heldsecrets.

[heldsecrets]

𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐚 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐞'𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬 . . . an independent writing blog of finnick odair, from the hunger games written as an original character with book and movie influences. multi verses available. triggering themes will be present. ( mia jane, 29, she/her + pst. est. 2023) . . . 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ?

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a study in: losing your autonomy to survive, the golden boy with scars, protecting her at all costs, igniting a rebellion, the one who understands, held secrets.

carrd. affiliated with // @salvatoraes, @m3lanch0lyh1ll.

[heldsecrets]

@chth0nia // from this post * always accepting.

a laugh rumbles low in finnick's chest as he looks down at her, the afternoon sun catching in the loose strands of bronze hair that have fallen across his forehead. for a moment, he makes no effort to move, content to remain exactly where he is. his grip shifts around her wrist—not tighter, merely more comfortable—as though settling in for conversation. "that's interesting," he muses, head tilting slightly. "because I distinctly remember you trying to stab me about thirty seconds ago." his gaze flickers briefly toward the discarded knife to the side of them before returning to her, sea-green eyes bright with amusement. granted, that had been the point of this training - strengthening their combat and proficiency with weapons. and yet ... "and miss this view?" the grin that follows is immediate as he hovers over her. his focus lingers on her for a beat longer than necessary, taking in the sight of her - the way her hair spills out behind her like honey - before he adds, "it's hard to focus on the specifics of the instructions under these conditions."

[heldsecrets]

@rosewiltd // * always accepting.

finnick leans against the balcony, chin turning up, sea green eyes searching the sky. the spotlights of the gala sweep the blanket of blackness, cityscape glittering below it. it feels so opposite to him. there are many things that feel unnatural in the capitol, and the more he is called to return, the heavier the uneasiness builds inside of him. what's natural never seems to matter here. all that matters to the people living in the height of luxury in panem is the order of president snow, something the victor from district 4 was explicitly ignoring tonight. finnick stares down at the woman - corinne, she had said - and nods in agreement to her words. "yeah. yeah, it is." he shifts his position to partially face her, a wistful smirk growing slowly along his features. "you know, even the arena i was in had stars - granted, fake ones," he amends before continuing, "but the sky had them nonetheless . . ." finnick trails off as he remembers, curbing the thought before he gets engulfed in the bad memories that loomed under the surface. "it's the only thing that was comforting - like a balm for the soul. unsettling that you can never see them here."

[rosewiltd]

❛   ▌┊𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 :   finnick ( @heldsecrets ) .

❝ —— you are... certain no one saw you, yes? ❞

[heldsecrets]

" mmm, typically when people see me, there's cheering or applause so i think i feel safe saying no. "

[zoinkd]

𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐒𝐘𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐒 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐒 𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐄, 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐈𝐓𝐒 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐄. 𝐎𝐇, 𝐈 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐌 𝐌𝐄. 𝐎𝐇, 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐗𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐃 - 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐆. // ( SHAGGY ROGERS WRITTEN AS AN ORIGINAL HORROR CHARACTER, as loved survived by mia jane. ©)

[rubymemes]

Send 👀 to know if my muse finds yours attractive!

Specify muse for multimuse blogs

[irvingsbailiffs]

THE DRAMA 2026 — dir. Kristoffer Borgli

[heldsecrets]

alright, im gonna work on this 2nd blog real quick then come back for my asks >:) hope ya'll are having a great monday byeeeeeeee

[heldsecrets]

ya’ll what verse do i write out and post next? fantasy and bridgerton are done but there are too many for me to choose. 💔

send help

tvdu

fourth wing

normal verse

acotar

greek mythos

d&d w/ bg3 tie in

Voting ended onMay 26

[heldsecrets]

i only have my asks left to do, wahooooo. felt productive. anyways, if anyone wants to plot anything, feel free to give this a like, and ill come knocking after soup time!

[m3lanch0lyh1ll]

A FEW SHUDDERING BREATHS LEFT ANNIE'S LIPS. her heart was pounding, her hands shaking as she felt herself slowly returning to the present. she hated when she got like this. when the memories became too much that she forgot herself. that she couldn't remember that the games were over; that she was safe now. rather, that safe as she could be. no victor truly was, even after leaving the arena victorious. she let out a shaky exhale, leaning more into @heldsecrets as he soothed her.

the victor hated that she could still hear the distant echo of the canons. firing off again and again as the arena flooded, killing most instantly. annie had been lucky to be such a good swimmer. but it had come at such a high cost. not just the guilt she carried, but the knowledge she had also taken a life to be where she was that day. “ sorry, ” annie murmured, her hands falling from her ears. an attempt to muffle the ghosts of the arena. “ i'm sorry… ” if she was apologizing to finnick, or the tributes from her memories, even she wasn't quite sure. but her breathing had at least started to even out. 

@heldsecrets (finnick) said: “ come here. you're gonna be okay. i promise. ”

[heldsecrets]

his fingers gently sorted through her hair, brushing the strands along the side of her temple as he tenderly placed kiss after to kiss to the crown of her head. finnick held her close, arms enclosed around annie as if he could shield her from the ghosts and memories that constantly chased after her - chased after the both of them. the shaky release of breath he heard from her gripped his heart within his chest, and threatened never to relinquish it. yet he knew he could do nothing more than what he was doing. finnick could simply be there for her, could ground her until she came back to him - until she became herself again.

at the sound of her voice, he gingerly shifted in front of her, cupping one side of her face in the palm of his hand as he examined her with a soft, encouraging smile - one where the corners of his lips didn't quite fully perk as he grappled with worry. "you never have to be sorry, annie." and he meant it. he had watched what she was reliving - he had seen the turmoil the female victor had endured live for all of panem to witness, the blood she watched spill in front of her very eyes from the tribute she entered the arena with.

it was always curiosity that drew him to the airings of the games. maybe it was just a way of reliving his own trauma, or showing himself that maybe his lived experience wasn't as bad as he made it out to be. it wasn't until witnessing the brutality annie had endured, finnick vowed to never so much as glance at another airing of the hunger games again. "love, you never ever have to be sorry," he repeats, leaning across and kissing her forehead. without wasting a beat, he reaches for her, draping his arm across her back and sliding the other one under her knees. finnick attempts to carry her, holding her as close to his heart as he possibly can, eyeing her carefully for protest. his thumb still manages to glide across her shoulder, moving back and forth in an effort to soothe her. "can i get you water? make you something to eat? annie, what can i do?"

[heldsecrets]

BRIDGERTON VERSE DROP - featuring themes of: trapped in the gilded cage you were born in, loyalty to one's heart versus their family name, when risk of reputation keeps you from living, the weight of the public eye, leaning into passion in a society that encourages restraint.

cw: writing in this verse will feature drinking, possible violence, and things mentioned in my pinned post, as well.

born in hanover to a hanoverian surname, a great nephew of king george, prince finnick was raised in a dual court system between hanover and london where he learned very early on that royalty was more than the blood in his veins. it was presentation. posture. performance. a prince must know when to bow, when to flatter, when to charm, and when to make a room believe he is as delighted to be there as they are to have him. upon entering society, finnick had already learned that attention was a currency, and that he himself was often the item being spent.

royal enough to be desired, foreign enough to captivate, and familiar enough to the crown to remain useful, finnick had spent the majority of his life being admired by people who never cared to truly know him. his looks became topic of conversation. his charm, once a shield, became the very thing everyone demanded of him. he often found himself exhausted by the end of the evening, sneaking out early only to be chastised in the morning about his sudden departure. wherever he went, there was always someone hoping to steal a moment of his time, be strengthened by his connections, or elevated by the mere suggestion of his interest.

it was little wonder, then, that marriage became a subject in which finnick was quietly, thoroughly jaded.

marriage was the great reward for the ton, after all: romance wrapped in rank, security dressed up as someone’s destiny. to finnick, it had long seemed like the final sentencing, a gilded cage where freedom and personal choice are sacrificed for duty, for the expectation given from one’s birthright. he began to view it as a transaction rather than a union of hearts, this social contract that prioritized alliances and appearances over genuine affection and affinity for one’s company. for finnick, the prospect of marriage felt like a culmination of the show he had always been forced to put on, leaving little room for his own desires and dreams. love, if it even existed at all, was expected to survive beneath all the gossip, political alliances, and the relentless hunger of everyone clutching the latest issue of lady whistledown. and he knew - deep in his heart - that anyone he chose as his partner would be subjected to this same torment. he knew he would not just be choosing a partner, but another political figure, another pawn. he swore to never curse someone to the same fate he had endured. 

now queen charlotte had decided it was high time he settled, and finnick was called to return to london for the season, moving into his mayfair residence - much to the delight of every ambitious mama in the ton. 

[wihlted]

            THOUGH   I   SIT   ALONE   IN   A   PILLAR,       I   EXIST   !

indpendent   original   character   serena   carlisle,     old   money   ballerina.           written   by   love.

         I   SEE   THE   SUN,       AND   IF   I   DON'T   SEE   THE   SUN,                                          I   KNOW   IT'S   THERE.

[divinityblooming]

▇▇▇ 𓆩 ♡ 𓆪   ... ( @heldsecrets ) as finnick ! ⊹     ˚˖⋆｡ [ PROMPT ] : they’ve always hugged, but lately those hugs linger just a beat too long.

LIZZIE was affectionate by nature. a hug, a kiss on the cheek, linking arms or holding hands. affection was a currency that she spent freely. and so this was nothing new, the way her arms wrapped around his midsection, head buried safely into his chest. they'd done this for years.

except, last march, something changed. they began to linger. finnick did it first, she was sure. right? it didn't matter, it was just that, she'd become entirely too aware of the warmth of his body against hers, found herself thinking of him and the way that he smelled for hours after they'd left each other. it was infuriating, and frankly, she was beginning to obsess over his stupid, annoying dimples. over him. she wasn't sure why it'd changed, but it had. she wasn't crazy. right?

when she pulled away, it was with great reluctance, arms lingering around his waist. she hesitated, meeting his gaze, pearl white teeth biting down into her bottom lip before sighing, frustrated, not one to avoid difficult conversations.

"what is this, finn? what's happening here? because i ...." she drifted off, always one to say too much, to come off too intense and overwhelming. "because i don't know what's happening, but i know that something is happening." she said simply, sealing her lips together, hands still gripping the back of his shirt anxiously. what if she's crazy?

[heldsecrets]

finnick lets out a soft sigh as his arms settle around her waist, hands settling at the small of her back. his cheek presses to the top of her head, the silkiness and sweet scent of her hair tickling his nose. time slows down when they're like this, and he wasn't quite certain when that had started. they'd been friendly, absolutely, but now ... he was certain he felt differently.

her presence in their encounters evolved from pleasant exchanges to a balm that settled the deep unrest that stirred inside of him. a flurry of anxious thoughts, shame and regrets lulled to a blissful silence. no, he wasn't sure when it began, yet finnick realized sometime ago that things were always better when lizzie was near. she became someone - one of the only ones - he'd held close in this way, both physically and emotionally. when someone can offer that feeling, that resolve, inside of a person, it becomes harder to let go. yet he manages as she pulls away, hands lingering in light protest of the minor distance between them.

he can see something is eating at her, the way she's mulling over the words she's contemplating. she must have finally gained the courage, because he watches each one spill from her in rapid succession, in the particular lizzie fashion he's come to adore. he lets the two of them sit in silence for a moment, breaking it with a laugh. he's laughing, a hand coming to cover his face, and he knows he shouldn't be, but he can't help himself as she finally puts words to the state they've been caught in - like a limbo of uncertainty, the push and pull of reading between the lines. finnick takes lizzie's face between his hands, fingers running along her cheekbone, sliding strands of blond behind her ear. he leans in, placing a gentle kiss to her temple. "i don't know . . ." he admits in a whisper, hovering there. "but i'm glad it's happening."

finnick reluctantly pulls away, taking a step back while facing her. he gives lizzie a beckoning look, casually nodding his head in the direction he's heading. "want to go somewhere to talk about it more?"

[thunderousmemes]

 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐓𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

(steel meets skin, laughter turns to breathless stillness)

Training Grounds & Bruised Pride

❛ You’re getting better… but not good enough to beat me. ❜

❛ That swing would’ve taken my head off if you weren’t distracted staring at me. ❜

❛ You call that a punch? Try again. Harder. ❜

❛ Careful—if you keep touching me like that, I’ll forget this is just training. ❜

❛ You’re supposed to disarm me, not pin me down. ❜

❛ If you wanted to get me on the ground, there are easier ways. ❜

❛ Oh, so now you’re blushing? Didn’t expect that from you. ❜

❛ Don’t hold back just because I’m close. Hit me. ❜

❛ You like this too much to call it practice. ❜

❛ You’re bleeding. …and you’re smiling about it? ❜

Clash & Proximity

❛ Stop moving—if you do, I’ll let you go. Maybe. ❜

❛ You’re enjoying this way more than you should. ❜

❛ I could feel your heartbeat when I had you pinned. ❜

❛ You’re supposed to block, not get distracted every time I breathe. ❜

❛ Funny how you only get serious when I get close. ❜

❛ Is this still a fight, or are we pretending it is? ❜

❛ If you wanted to touch me, you could’ve just asked. ❜

❛ That smirk’s going to get you in trouble. ❜

❛ You’re trembling. Adrenaline or something else? ❜

❛ You’ve got a death wish standing that close. Or maybe just a bad idea. ❜

Verbal Sparring & Tension

❛ What’s wrong—afraid I’ll beat you? Or that I won’t stop when I do? ❜

❛ Keep taunting me and I might forget to pull my punches. ❜

❛ You talk too much. Let’s see if I can change that. ❜

❛ Didn’t realize arrogance was one of your fighting styles. ❜

❛ Don’t act so calm—you’re shaking. I can feel it. ❜

❛ You like pushing me, don’t you? ❜

❛ Admit it—you only challenged me so you’d have an excuse to touch me. ❜

❛ I thought you were dangerous. Turns out you’re just distracting. ❜

❛ You keep saying this is training, but you keep looking at my mouth. ❜

❛ Try again. And stop pretending you don’t want to. ❜

Pinned & Breathless

❛ You should really get off me… unless you plan to stay there. ❜

❛ You gonna move, or are you enjoying the view? ❜

❛ You’re heavy. …Don’t you dare move. ❜

❛ Your hand’s still on me. Not that I mind. ❜

❛ Is this where you finally admit you like losing to me? ❜

❛ You can let go now. …anytime. ❜

❛ I said training, not straddling. ❜

❛ If anyone walks in right now, I’m blaming you. ❜

❛ Don’t look at me like that. You’ll make me forget we’re supposed to be fighting. ❜

❛ I thought this was about technique, not temptation. ❜

Aftermath & Smolder

❛ You’ve got blood on your lip. …Here, let me— ❜

❛ You hit harder than you should. I liked it. ❜

❛ I should hate how close that was. But I don’t. ❜

❛ You’re shaking. Here—catch your breath. ❜

❛ For someone who swears they don’t care, you sure looked worried when I fell. ❜

❛ You didn’t have to pull me that close. ❜

❛ I’ve fought a lot of people. None of them ever looked at me like that. ❜

❛ Are we still sparring, or… something else? ❜

❛ Tell me you didn’t feel that too. ❜

❛ Maybe next time, we skip the weapons. ❜

[wihlted]

something   about   the   window   seat's   got   you   feeling   like   a   poet.           —            @heldsecrets

         serena   breathes   a   half   -   laugh,     fogging   up   the   glass   beside   her   lips.         the   train   is   fast,     and   she   likes   the   views   of   going   around   and   around   the   capitol.           a   delicacy   that   only   capitol   citizens   get   to   enjoy,     having   the   free   time   to   ride   a   train   to   and   fro.           then   she   pulls   the   sleeve   of   her   dress   over   her   palm   and   wipes   the   fog   away   to   see   the   cityscape.

         ❛       i'm   sorry,     ❜                   she   says,       though   the   quirk   of   her   mouth   shows   that   she   isn't.                 ❛       i   don't   often   get   the   chance   to   speak   what   i'm   really   thinking.     ❜

[heldsecrets]

a thoughtful hum pushes past his lips in response as he folds his arms in observation, gaze fixing on her. he hates how deep her words anchor in him. it was a sentiment he was all too familiar with, more than he's ever been able to share. head tilting to the side, finnick recovers the persona he keeps at his fingertips, slipping into the carefully crafted mask he'd perfected through his time at the capitol. " you're free to speak your mind in any capacity you'd like with me, " he affirms with disarming warmth. though pretending, his sentiment is genuine. " no need to apologize. i actually rather enjoy it. "

he notes her admiration for the view of panem from the window of the train. what looks beautiful on the surface has been sullied for him. now he sees it for what it is - a stage draped in frivolous fabric to hide the blood panem was built on. finnick can't help the sinking feeling in his stomach. how long before she learns the truth? and what would she think - of her family, of him - when the deadly, political underbelly of the capitol finally sat bare before her? " if you think this is pretty, i ought to take you on a train to district 4. " finnick allows himself to look out the window then, as though the passing scenery might momentarily become ocean instead of the city landscape that's haunted him for nearly a decade. " less busyness, " he murmurs, " and more horizon. "

[heldsecrets]

soup time and bg3 time wahooooooo. more replies to come later! >:)