warnings: 18+ MDNI, dolly!reader, smut, pet names, reader being a brat, unprotected piv sex (wrap it tho), riding, finnick talking you through it, fingering, praise, begging(?), slight orgasm denial :((
summary:finnick has enough of your bratty behaviour
a/n: she’s backkkkkk, hello again beautiful people, i’m so so happy to be on here again, for the last year i was literally experiencing worst psychosis ever lmao, anyway i’m not here to complain but to deliverrrr, i got some very very sweet messages from y’all and it was the biggest motivation for me to come back on here. i got out of my extremely toxic and emotionally abusive relationship so now i finally can focus on myself and my writing again. thank you all for supporting my work <3
word count: 2.5k
"that's it baby, no more sass now, hm?" he mutters, while he leans his head back against the couch almost lazily, as he watched you straddling his lap, a huge contrast to his big, warm hands on your body. one was gripping your thigh and the other one was buried two fingers deep inside your pretty pussy, pumping in and out almost mercilessly.
finnick had been trying all day to make you cave, to make you give him your undivided attention and affection, showering you with kisses, sweet words and all but nothing seemed to work. ever since morning, you were giving him attitude and kept your distance. you could’ve not possibly be more different from your usual soft, clingy self.
"talk to me, pretty girl, hm? what's wrong?" your boyfriend tried to gently pry out of you, what got has gotten into you today for maybe the hundredth time since the morning as you had only given him flat, bratty answers to every sentence he spoke out loud to you. finnick wrapped his strong arms around your shoulders as you sat behind you vanity and applied some lipgloss to your pinky lips. his biceps flexed, the tanned skin glowed in the morning light so it made his muscly arms appear even more edible.
"don't wanna talk about it." you just mumbled densly, not even sparing him a glance as you finished getting ready and even shrugged off his embrace, which was most likely the last thing he expected you to do and the way his eyes widened and eyebrows rose spoke for it enough.
not so much later, finnick and you went to the town, just like every sunday. he lead the way through the crowded market, gaze dragging over each peace of the various fruits, vegetables, breads and you carried the, for now almost empty basket with just few herb tussocks on the bottom. while you stand half behind your man, more and more people start to cluster around so instinctively, he reaches out his arm to wrap protectively around your waist and pull you closer to himself, making sure he won’t lose you in the sea of people from district four, but you only whine quietly in protest.
“baby, c’mere, you’re in their way.” finnick tries to approach you softly again, tugging you into his side ever so gently as you were blocking the view of the carrot stall from the middle aged couple stepping impatiently behind you, even if they’ve been waiting for thirty seconds tops. the bronze haired boy was sure they were ready to use worse than mean glares towards his girlfriend so naturally he wanted to figure out how to avoid such a situation, but when he was met only with an eye roll from you, his jaw hardened noticeably and his look was now disapproving rather than questioning.
the very last of his intentions was to attract more attention or god forbid share your rocky morning with the rest of the town, you were watched closely anyway, unnecessary drama would be anything but helpful now. “don’t roll your eyes at me.” he murmured under his breath as he led you towards the stall with spices, because you’ve been complaining for weeks that they need to be restocked as soon as possible and you two always forgot, getting caught up in a conversation or just distracted by the moment, not today though.
“i’m gonna do, whatever i want to do.” you scoffed slightly, bottom lip already jutting out into that stubborn pout that drove your boyfriend up the wall in every way imaginable. it was now his time to roll his eyes, oh he hated when you were like this. he didn’t really. but he did. “is that so, pretty?”
and all he had to be satisfied with for an answer was a hum breaking past your lips. the sun was already high above your heads, providing the kind of warmth only late spring ever could. the crowd slowly eased into smaller groups, groups back into families and those have by now practically cleared the town square, heading back into their homes to prepare lunches. you and finnick weren’t different, soon enough, you managed to collect all the missing groceries, even stuck in tense silence.
the villa in victors’s village was now scented with the fresh rosemary, basil and garlic as your boyfriend cooked the pasta with creamy sauce, you were curled in the chair, unlike usually when you would sit on the countertop with your legs dangling above the ground and yap his ear off. finnick’s eyes were constantly trailing over to you, waiting, trying to read your own, that were squinted in focus as you read your magazine, something about the newest fashion trends he believed, you had always loved this stuff.
“i could’ve done it.” at that finnick’s head spins much faster into your direction again, his eyebrows shot up as he pauses stirring the boiling sauce. “it’s okay, honey, i got it.” he says, still being nice, but his tone is also anticipating, expecting. maybe you had calmed down finally.
“whatever.” or maybe not. you just mumbled the answer, before turning your attention back to the magazine on your lap. finnick’s face once again fell flat, he let out a deep sigh and turned off the stove, with each second the sizzling was quieting down and then your boyfriend turned to you with his arms crossed tight over his chest. “what’s with the attitude today, hm?”
“i don’t have an attitude.” throwing a small glare in his direction you said and before there could be another bratty argument coming his way, finnick made his way over to the dining table, towering over your sitting form. “yes you do, you’re being a brat since the morning. why’s that, baby?”
there’s only a soft huff coming out of your lips as they pull into a pout again and you turn your gaze away from him. “really? is this how’s it gon’ be?” and the lack of reaction he received was what has gotten you here. spread out over his lap, your knees on either side of his hips, skirt bunched up around your hips and your lacy panties pulled to the side so he’d have easier access to you.
“finn..” you whine helplessly, nails clawing at his shoulders as his thumb stimulates your clit, rubbing in circle motions while his middle and ring finger continue thrusting inside you, not giving you time to breath at all.
“oh, baby, what is it? y’ have something to say?” finnick cood almost mockingly. he watched your face twist in pleasure, he pulled his fingers out slowly, making you whine again at the loss of contact. he slid his fingers in between your folds, gathering the slick wetness on his pads before just teasingly circling around your entrance.
“finn, please, please..” you begged your boyfriend desperately to bring you over the edge as you clenched around nothing, trying to shift your hips to grind against his palm. “no sweetheart, none of that, you don’t get to cum until I say so.” finnick said firmly, stopping his movements entirely as he brought his other hand from your hip and wrapped it over your jaw, tilting your head up gently.
you look up at him all doe eyed through your lashes, absolutely angelic and needy. it always worked on finnick so you’d get your way of things with him, but not now, he seemed more than unfazed and just clicked his tongue slowly, head tilting sideways in a mock sympathy.
“why were you mouthing me off the whole day, huh? is it because you were needy, baby? is that it? ” finnick cooed, looking you right in the eye, his sea green orbs bored into yours and not even the needy whine you make seems to take pity on you and bring you to your orgasm. “just too shy to ask me, weren’t you angel?”
“finnick, you’re being mean.” the desperate cry rips through the air, your face is all scrunched and your fingers are gripping the soft fabric of his linen shirt tightly as if it would break him. his eyebrows rose to the top of his forehead and he let out a quiet chuckle that echoed in your head three times like a taunt that levelled your frustration - the deep sexual frustration you felt towards your bronze haired boyfriend and have been feeling for a quite some time now. “mean? i’m being mean, baby? y’ haven’t seen me be mean yet.”
but then without a warning, finnick slipped his finger back inside you gummy walls, then another one and relentlessly penetrated your soaking wet pussy with his long, thick digits again and again, purposely avoiding stimulating your clitoris so you had to embarrassingly buck your hips against his hand to get yourself off.
“that’s it baby, help yourself.” he praised gently, intently watching your eyebrows furrow with a smirk plastered on his face. content and proud. he leaned forward and pressed a soft, sooting kiss to your temple before finally caving in and blessing you with his full capabilities of pleasuring his girl. you moan softly, eyes squeeze shut and your walls fluttered around his fingers, leaning your head forwards, you press your face into his chest as if it makes the overwhelming sensation less intense. the coil in your tummy snaps, your orgasm flows through your entire body, making your thighs shake and your eyes roll back. finnick gently fingers you through it, letting you ride out the aftershocks as the string pf his praises mixes with the sound of your sweet noises.
“shh i gotchu honey, i’m right here.”
lost in the haze of your release, you barely even registered how hard was finnick beneath you. slowly, he pulled his fingers out, before bringing them up to his mouth, making a show of swirling his tongue around them and sucking them clean as he moaned at the delicious taste of your juices. “so fuckin’ sweet.” he murmured before taking ahold of your hips with both his hands again and tugged you closer to his chest, making you brush against the obvious bulge in his pants.
the rough material of his jeans rubs your sensitive, puffy clit and you whimper quietly, eyes staring up at him with pure desire. he smiles down at you with that cocky glint in his eyes that makes your knees buckled, before he pats your hip as an encouragement. “lift your hips for me, honey.”
it doesn’t take you more than two seconds to obey, finnick reaches down, unzips his jeans and pushes them just low enough so he can free himself from his boxers. just the sight of his thick length, tip angry red and leaking, makes you clench around the air again. without breaking eye contact he wraps his fist around the root of his cock before slowly lowering your hips down, guiding you to slowly take him inch by inch.
“that’s a good girl, you can take it.” you whine, whimper and moan when he’s not even halfway inside, your spongy walls already squeezing him. he feels your manicured nails bite into his shoulders again as he sweetly praises you to sit on his dick completely. “good job, angel. you’re doing so good.”
he gives you time to adjust to him. his cock is filling you so good, you feel him all the way in your tummy and he’s stretching your glistening pussy so wide you thought he will split you in half.
“finn..” you whine helplessly when he starts ever so lightly guiding you up before slamming you back down, hushing and comforting you with soothing words. his fingers dig into your hips, the softness of your body spills through them and your tits bounce underneath your top at the sudden motion.
“fuck baby, can feel how tight you are.” finnick groaned, throwing his head back against the back of the couch and his jaw fell slack purely at the feeling of you taking him whole and greedily clenching around him whenever he hit your g-spot with the pinkish head of his shaft that was stuffing you completely full. his hips fucked up into you and his hands that were gripping yours bounced you up and down in repetitive motions as you became a moaning mess on top of him and your slick was smeared all over his balls and the jeans he hadn’t pushed low enough to avoid coating them with your sweet juices.
“ugh, i finn..mhh..finn, ‘m gonna…” you try to speak but the sounds spill from your glossy lips on their own together with the glittery tears that roll down your cheeks, stained with your eyeshadow as your boyfriend continues fucking you stupid on a sunday afternoon all because you were being mouthy.
“yeah, shh i know baby, i know.” he pants as you start grinding your hips harder on his cock, chasing your second release. he raised his head straight again, looking at how breathtakingly ethereal you look in the haze of sex with your makeup smeared, hair messy and desperate for him. “y’ gonna cum f’ me again?”
you find yourself unable to do anything but nod frantically, nails clawing into his clothed back, pussy fluttering around him and squeezing him deeper. “y-yes, yes, please..” you sob so sweetly for him and he cannot but melt at the sight. he reaches his hand between your bodies and in mere seconds starts rubbing your clit in tight circles to bring you over the edge faster and harder.
“go on then, babydoll. ‘m right here.”
crying out his name, you reach your second orgasm in the last hour, your vision whitens and he sloppily fucks you through it. your eyes roll into the back of your head, your mouth hangs open wide in a pretty o shape and moments later, his milky, warm semen fills you to brim as it already starts dripping down at where you’re connected.
“god, you did so good, angel. m’ so proud of you.” finnick praises reaching his hand to wipe off the tears from your gorgeous face with his thumb, his touch was as gentle as it could be before he pressed a comforting kiss to your forehead, both your cheeks and then finally your pouty lips.
i’m very much thinking of going back to my knight!finnick x princess!reader au!! it’s been almost a year tho since i posted the last part so are we still interested in that or nah??
warnings: 18+ MDNI, dolly!reader, smut, pet names, reader being a brat, unprotected piv sex (wrap it tho), riding, finnick talking you through it, fingering, praise, begging(?), slight orgasm denial :((
summary:finnick has enough of your bratty behaviour
a/n: she’s backkkkkk, hello again beautiful people, i’m so so happy to be on here again, for the last year i was literally experiencing worst psychosis ever lmao, anyway i’m not here to complain but to deliverrrr, i got some very very sweet messages from y’all and it was the biggest motivation for me to come back on here. i got out of my extremely toxic and emotionally abusive relationship so now i finally can focus on myself and my writing again. thank you all for supporting my work <3
word count: 2.5k
"that's it baby, no more sass now, hm?" he mutters, while he leans his head back against the couch almost lazily, as he watched you straddling his lap, a huge contrast to his big, warm hands on your body. one was gripping your thigh and the other one was buried two fingers deep inside your pretty pussy, pumping in and out almost mercilessly.
finnick had been trying all day to make you cave, to make you give him your undivided attention and affection, showering you with kisses, sweet words and all but nothing seemed to work. ever since morning, you were giving him attitude and kept your distance. you could’ve not possibly be more different from your usual soft, clingy self.
"talk to me, pretty girl, hm? what's wrong?" your boyfriend tried to gently pry out of you, what got has gotten into you today for maybe the hundredth time since the morning as you had only given him flat, bratty answers to every sentence he spoke out loud to you. finnick wrapped his strong arms around your shoulders as you sat behind you vanity and applied some lipgloss to your pinky lips. his biceps flexed, the tanned skin glowed in the morning light so it made his muscly arms appear even more edible.
"don't wanna talk about it." you just mumbled densly, not even sparing him a glance as you finished getting ready and even shrugged off his embrace, which was most likely the last thing he expected you to do and the way his eyes widened and eyebrows rose spoke for it enough.
not so much later, finnick and you went to the town, just like every sunday. he lead the way through the crowded market, gaze dragging over each peace of the various fruits, vegetables, breads and you carried the, for now almost empty basket with just few herb tussocks on the bottom. while you stand half behind your man, more and more people start to cluster around so instinctively, he reaches out his arm to wrap protectively around your waist and pull you closer to himself, making sure he won’t lose you in the sea of people from district four, but you only whine quietly in protest.
“baby, c’mere, you’re in their way.” finnick tries to approach you softly again, tugging you into his side ever so gently as you were blocking the view of the carrot stall from the middle aged couple stepping impatiently behind you, even if they’ve been waiting for thirty seconds tops. the bronze haired boy was sure they were ready to use worse than mean glares towards his girlfriend so naturally he wanted to figure out how to avoid such a situation, but when he was met only with an eye roll from you, his jaw hardened noticeably and his look was now disapproving rather than questioning.
the very last of his intentions was to attract more attention or god forbid share your rocky morning with the rest of the town, you were watched closely anyway, unnecessary drama would be anything but helpful now. “don’t roll your eyes at me.” he murmured under his breath as he led you towards the stall with spices, because you’ve been complaining for weeks that they need to be restocked as soon as possible and you two always forgot, getting caught up in a conversation or just distracted by the moment, not today though.
“i’m gonna do, whatever i want to do.” you scoffed slightly, bottom lip already jutting out into that stubborn pout that drove your boyfriend up the wall in every way imaginable. it was now his time to roll his eyes, oh he hated when you were like this. he didn’t really. but he did. “is that so, pretty?”
and all he had to be satisfied with for an answer was a hum breaking past your lips. the sun was already high above your heads, providing the kind of warmth only late spring ever could. the crowd slowly eased into smaller groups, groups back into families and those have by now practically cleared the town square, heading back into their homes to prepare lunches. you and finnick weren’t different, soon enough, you managed to collect all the missing groceries, even stuck in tense silence.
the villa in victors’s village was now scented with the fresh rosemary, basil and garlic as your boyfriend cooked the pasta with creamy sauce, you were curled in the chair, unlike usually when you would sit on the countertop with your legs dangling above the ground and yap his ear off. finnick’s eyes were constantly trailing over to you, waiting, trying to read your own, that were squinted in focus as you read your magazine, something about the newest fashion trends he believed, you had always loved this stuff.
“i could’ve done it.” at that finnick’s head spins much faster into your direction again, his eyebrows shot up as he pauses stirring the boiling sauce. “it’s okay, honey, i got it.” he says, still being nice, but his tone is also anticipating, expecting. maybe you had calmed down finally.
“whatever.” or maybe not. you just mumbled the answer, before turning your attention back to the magazine on your lap. finnick’s face once again fell flat, he let out a deep sigh and turned off the stove, with each second the sizzling was quieting down and then your boyfriend turned to you with his arms crossed tight over his chest. “what’s with the attitude today, hm?”
“i don’t have an attitude.” throwing a small glare in his direction you said and before there could be another bratty argument coming his way, finnick made his way over to the dining table, towering over your sitting form. “yes you do, you’re being a brat since the morning. why’s that, baby?”
there’s only a soft huff coming out of your lips as they pull into a pout again and you turn your gaze away from him. “really? is this how’s it gon’ be?” and the lack of reaction he received was what has gotten you here. spread out over his lap, your knees on either side of his hips, skirt bunched up around your hips and your lacy panties pulled to the side so he’d have easier access to you.
“finn..” you whine helplessly, nails clawing at his shoulders as his thumb stimulates your clit, rubbing in circle motions while his middle and ring finger continue thrusting inside you, not giving you time to breath at all.
“oh, baby, what is it? y’ have something to say?” finnick cood almost mockingly. he watched your face twist in pleasure, he pulled his fingers out slowly, making you whine again at the loss of contact. he slid his fingers in between your folds, gathering the slick wetness on his pads before just teasingly circling around your entrance.
“finn, please, please..” you begged your boyfriend desperately to bring you over the edge as you clenched around nothing, trying to shift your hips to grind against his palm. “no sweetheart, none of that, you don’t get to cum until I say so.” finnick said firmly, stopping his movements entirely as he brought his other hand from your hip and wrapped it over your jaw, tilting your head up gently.
you look up at him all doe eyed through your lashes, absolutely angelic and needy. it always worked on finnick so you’d get your way of things with him, but not now, he seemed more than unfazed and just clicked his tongue slowly, head tilting sideways in a mock sympathy.
“why were you mouthing me off the whole day, huh? is it because you were needy, baby? is that it? ” finnick cooed, looking you right in the eye, his sea green orbs bored into yours and not even the needy whine you make seems to take pity on you and bring you to your orgasm. “just too shy to ask me, weren’t you angel?”
“finnick, you’re being mean.” the desperate cry rips through the air, your face is all scrunched and your fingers are gripping the soft fabric of his linen shirt tightly as if it would break him. his eyebrows rose to the top of his forehead and he let out a quiet chuckle that echoed in your head three times like a taunt that levelled your frustration - the deep sexual frustration you felt towards your bronze haired boyfriend and have been feeling for a quite some time now. “mean? i’m being mean, baby? y’ haven’t seen me be mean yet.”
but then without a warning, finnick slipped his finger back inside you gummy walls, then another one and relentlessly penetrated your soaking wet pussy with his long, thick digits again and again, purposely avoiding stimulating your clitoris so you had to embarrassingly buck your hips against his hand to get yourself off.
“that’s it baby, help yourself.” he praised gently, intently watching your eyebrows furrow with a smirk plastered on his face. content and proud. he leaned forward and pressed a soft, sooting kiss to your temple before finally caving in and blessing you with his full capabilities of pleasuring his girl. you moan softly, eyes squeeze shut and your walls fluttered around his fingers, leaning your head forwards, you press your face into his chest as if it makes the overwhelming sensation less intense. the coil in your tummy snaps, your orgasm flows through your entire body, making your thighs shake and your eyes roll back. finnick gently fingers you through it, letting you ride out the aftershocks as the string pf his praises mixes with the sound of your sweet noises.
“shh i gotchu honey, i’m right here.”
lost in the haze of your release, you barely even registered how hard was finnick beneath you. slowly, he pulled his fingers out, before bringing them up to his mouth, making a show of swirling his tongue around them and sucking them clean as he moaned at the delicious taste of your juices. “so fuckin’ sweet.” he murmured before taking ahold of your hips with both his hands again and tugged you closer to his chest, making you brush against the obvious bulge in his pants.
the rough material of his jeans rubs your sensitive, puffy clit and you whimper quietly, eyes staring up at him with pure desire. he smiles down at you with that cocky glint in his eyes that makes your knees buckled, before he pats your hip as an encouragement. “lift your hips for me, honey.”
it doesn’t take you more than two seconds to obey, finnick reaches down, unzips his jeans and pushes them just low enough so he can free himself from his boxers. just the sight of his thick length, tip angry red and leaking, makes you clench around the air again. without breaking eye contact he wraps his fist around the root of his cock before slowly lowering your hips down, guiding you to slowly take him inch by inch.
“that’s a good girl, you can take it.” you whine, whimper and moan when he’s not even halfway inside, your spongy walls already squeezing him. he feels your manicured nails bite into his shoulders again as he sweetly praises you to sit on his dick completely. “good job, angel. you’re doing so good.”
he gives you time to adjust to him. his cock is filling you so good, you feel him all the way in your tummy and he’s stretching your glistening pussy so wide you thought he will split you in half.
“finn..” you whine helplessly when he starts ever so lightly guiding you up before slamming you back down, hushing and comforting you with soothing words. his fingers dig into your hips, the softness of your body spills through them and your tits bounce underneath your top at the sudden motion.
“fuck baby, can feel how tight you are.” finnick groaned, throwing his head back against the back of the couch and his jaw fell slack purely at the feeling of you taking him whole and greedily clenching around him whenever he hit your g-spot with the pinkish head of his shaft that was stuffing you completely full. his hips fucked up into you and his hands that were gripping yours bounced you up and down in repetitive motions as you became a moaning mess on top of him and your slick was smeared all over his balls and the jeans he hadn’t pushed low enough to avoid coating them with your sweet juices.
“ugh, i finn..mhh..finn, ‘m gonna…” you try to speak but the sounds spill from your glossy lips on their own together with the glittery tears that roll down your cheeks, stained with your eyeshadow as your boyfriend continues fucking you stupid on a sunday afternoon all because you were being mouthy.
“yeah, shh i know baby, i know.” he pants as you start grinding your hips harder on his cock, chasing your second release. he raised his head straight again, looking at how breathtakingly ethereal you look in the haze of sex with your makeup smeared, hair messy and desperate for him. “y’ gonna cum f’ me again?”
you find yourself unable to do anything but nod frantically, nails clawing into his clothed back, pussy fluttering around him and squeezing him deeper. “y-yes, yes, please..” you sob so sweetly for him and he cannot but melt at the sight. he reaches his hand between your bodies and in mere seconds starts rubbing your clit in tight circles to bring you over the edge faster and harder.
“go on then, babydoll. ‘m right here.”
crying out his name, you reach your second orgasm in the last hour, your vision whitens and he sloppily fucks you through it. your eyes roll into the back of your head, your mouth hangs open wide in a pretty o shape and moments later, his milky, warm semen fills you to brim as it already starts dripping down at where you’re connected.
“god, you did so good, angel. m’ so proud of you.” finnick praises reaching his hand to wipe off the tears from your gorgeous face with his thumb, his touch was as gentle as it could be before he pressed a comforting kiss to your forehead, both your cheeks and then finally your pouty lips.
warnings: knight!finnick o’dair x princess!reader, fencing, mentions of arranged marriage and misogyny, tiny bit of angst, yearning, mentions of dead parent, daddy issues
summary: sir finnick is admired by all. the noble ladies, fellow knights or the common peasants. for his honourable heart, undying loyalty, unwavering kindness and surprising knowledge not a lot of other knights possess. finnick swore a sacred vow to the king to protect the princess with his life and so he shall, upholding to the vow without a compromise, but underneath his mostly strong exterior, in the shadowed corners of the gardens, in the darkness of nights, across the beautiful ballrooms, his eyes are unable to hide the deep, forbidden love he feels for the princess
a/n: my biggest inspiration for this are czech fairytales which i recommend greatly, all of themmm, and i gotta say knight!finnick is my weakness now i love him…
word count: 2k
“with all due respect, m’lady, i do not believe he is a suitable courter for you hand.” the silver plate clad male, walked precisely three steps behind you, the distance respectful enough for his title, hands behind his back, eyes trailing over every inch of the garden, where peonies fade from the softest to screaming pinks.
panem laid somewhere between the lands of unknown —dark forests, dreadful mires, perilous crags, and the kindgdom of a never ending winter, one that was ruled by a man with a heart colder than ice. king crassus snow left behind two children after passing away due to a cruel illness, thaddeus and coriolanus snow, who as the first born prince, must find a noble girl for matrimony to become the new king of thorneveil.
“perhaps for my hand he is, finnick, but not my heart, of course, i agree with your concerns, but i am hesitant to go against my father’s wishes, i do not wish to upset him. prince coriolanus is a respected and wealthy man and i know that i will bring honour to my family and our marriage would be of gain to my kingdom, but,” a deep sigh coming from your own lips interrupted your perhaps a little long monologue before you carried on. “i am not sure i can stand a man this coldhearted.”
finnick o’dair, ever the fearless young man, worried. he dreaded thoughts of you being taken away and given to that tyrant of a man, he did not understand how could your father approve of this arrangement. the truce, of course, an important piece to the puzzle if you wish to reign, a sacrifice for the greater good, many have said, but not finnick. the bronze haired knight would have burn down the world until nothing remains, die a thousand times on a bloody battlefield, cross rivers, move mountains, only to save you.
“my liege, i can see this arranged marriage disturbs you greatly and i cannot stand by and only watch you suffer, perhaps i can intercede with his majesty on your behalf and voice my doubts.” if you were to be wed to a heir of a throne, it is no longer your father’s duty to provide for you. it is a choice, yes, but not with the service of your protection, dressing — that becomes the chore of your husband and finnick was certain, prince coriolanus will forbid you from seeing people he thought of as inferior. he would loose you.
“oh finnick, you are kind, but i do not want to send trouble upon you by my fault. you shall not speak unkindly about prince coriolanus in front of the council, they might tell on you and he is indeed a cruel man.”
your soft spoken words, a soothing balm for his aching heart and invisible wounds, brought a smile to his perfect features. his steps out of sudden fastened, the metal armor plates clinked against one another providing a soft sound. in a trice, finnick stood before you, forbidding you from walking forward, intense gaze of the sea greened orbs seeped into the depths of your pores, his eyes yearning for your attention, “will you?” left his throat when he obtained it.
“do you must ask?” you look up at him, lower lip ever so subtly trembling when it parted from the upper one, eyelashes fluttering in the spring breeze and the rest of your words were now refusing to leave your throat. the intensity in his eyes — you felt it with each and every human sense you controlled. how could a warrior look at a princess that way and not be punished? he absolutely would have been if anyone’s greedy eyes saw, that is why finnick and you, keep these moments hidden in the shadow of the pink blossom tree, behind the hundreds of rays’ of peonies where no one can take it away.
back and forth. back and forth. hypnotized almost, finnick watched the pendulum of a the huge golden clock swing, a fashionable contrast to the baby pink wall they decorated greatly. day by day, he accompanied you to breakfast, school lessons, your walk through the royal gardens, afternoon shenanigans, dinner and lastly to the library where you together read the stories of forbidden romance, true love, struggles, adventures. finnick then would lead you to your chambers, where the maids switch to take care of you, wishing you sweet dream and sound sleep, prepared himself, to find home, wash off the day, let his mother’s cooked meal comfort him and the feeling of his freshly laundered sheets sooth him.
perhaps it was just his mind playing tricks of him, but no one uttered a word. he hasn’t seen such quiet dinner in a very long period of time. firstly, his thoughts wondered to prince coriolanus, to the moment when the king announced to his daughter, she is about to be wed to the crown prince of the never ending winter kingdom .
“but father —“
“no buts! you will do as i say, you are my daughter, you are a princess, this is your duty, what you were born for. to be a wife, to be a mother and you better be one your failed to be.” cold, bitter taste the words leave on a tongue, a twist of a knife in a wound they are to a young broken heart. eight minutes. that is for how long finnick let the throne heiress out pf sight, leaving her with her father, big mistake. he hurried, walked as fast at he could if he wanted not to gain everyone’s attention. what was happening in the throne chamber, he wanted to know immediately.
“i am going to the celebrations tomorrow.”
your voice took finnick back from the memories, he lightly shook his head, raising his head back high, gaze immediately glued to you and the subtle clearing of his throat was heard due to the pin drop silence that followed your sentence. the celebrations at the village’s market. pf course. how could have he forgotten, that tomorrow may seventeenth, marks the anniversary of the queen’s fiftieth birthday. his majesty king arthur’s wife, isolde, was treasured by the people of panem all her life and after she passed unto the eternal rest, nothing changed, perhaps for the mourning. nobles, warriors, maids, commoners, children, they all still celebrated their queen.
“no. you are not going beneath the walls, not to the town. dangerous people live down there.” there was no doubt in that statement had indeed upset your father. in a way, he loved you. in a way, he loved his wife, he was certain he did. his worry and care for you was not feigned or a formality, loosing his only child would break him into the pieces he was made of, into the pieces your mother’s death break him into and your smile was the only glue holding him together.
“they are not dangerous, father. they are struggling and that is a difference. i want to bring honor to her memory.”
“by silly dancing, feasting and songs? don’t be foolish. you are not going, it is not safe.” the disdain in his voice made your heart ache a bit. you wished your father saw you as more than a puppet in his perfect play of the throne and peace. one day you would grown wings and will be as impactful as your dear mother was. or so you pray.
it was not fair. you wished to be allowed to cry, to be allowed to be anything more than just a princess. perhaps you were foolish, perhaps it is foolish to be unhappy when kilos of foods are served to you three times a day, when you had four dresses to change each and every day, when only your single bedroom was bigger than a house where families of five lived in just under the hill, but you were allowed to feel, no?
“i will be taking finnick with me,” unexpectedly you drop your fork to the plate, the loud noise changing the look in your bronze haired savior’s eyes, oh how he wished for you to have a better treatment, to be respected as the brilliant, kind woman you are than only a pawn. “i as well had lost my appetite. good night.”
pink heels click against the hard wooden floor, again and again as you storm off from the dining room, finnick following closely behind you, not before a short bow to the head of the kingdom, almost running to not loose you out of his sight.
“your majesty —“ one of king arthur’s councils spoke up, indignantly scowling, raising from his place, but the raise of his lord’s hand stopped him.
“let her go. she will abate her feelings by tomorrow.” the gray haired man spoke calmly, a great contrast to the previous coldness in his voice. you took so much after your mother it made him want to shed tears, but that was something he was not allowed to do. a king, a leader is never allowed to slip, to fail he just cannot. would he not love to see you shine brightly with happiness, find your true love and rule the people you love so much, along your husband. but that is impossible now. prince coriolanus had not only proposed but also threatened so your father will rather live with being the villain in your story than to have you hurt and loose the lives of innocent in a war they wouldn’t win.
“oh my dear, i wish for you to be by my side still.” his gaze found the painting of queen isolde — it hung high just on the wall opposite to his chair and the words left him like a silent prayer as if the dead could be brought back, as if she was going to hear him. king arthur was never much of a romantic man but he used to have his gallant moments. a book about soulmates, silly children’s fairytale, but it was her favorite so he read it. thousand times there and back just to be closer to her, because to loose a lover is to loose a half of our own soul.
“my princess. it would be my pleasure to accompany you to the town’s celebrations by the morning.” finnick understood your grief, your anger, he knew pain of losing someone so close to heart at such a young age. he wished to take your hurts away, heal your wounds and to love you for eternity without hiding, but if all that his fate has prepared for him, is to be your protector so shall he be, but perhaps he cannot protect you from yourself.
“i could not thank you enough.” you knew finnick in no way, small or loud, was allowed to speak against the nobles. ghat was the meaning of his title. a warrior, a soldier, a knight, he must obey and do as he is told to bring honor to his duty, his family, his kingdom even if he loses his life in the way, but you understood from his stance and tone, he was on your side.
“you must not thank me, it is my duty, m’lady.” finnick smiled at you gently once you both stood before the white, decorated door of your chambers. the moonlight piercing through the window illuminated your face features and for a moment he thought he saw hallucinating, seeing an angel and if heaven was you, he wanted it, all of it, all of you, to cherish it forever, before and after death, from dawn to dawn, never look away from the entrance to your soul of eyes they were. convinced they would heal, perhaps turn into a diamond he’d catch every one of your tears with the pad of his finger like it was sacred and he’d hush you in his arms until nothing but a smile remains.
guys tonight i went as a support to my boyfriend’s punk band’s concert again and he was so great ofc, he’s such a talented guitarist but i got literally jumped by a HUGE old man, trying to drag me into a mosh pit omg i’m traumatised (it was not the first time but i don’t complain on this app enough 😔😔)
warnings: knight!finnick o’dair x princess!reader, fencing, mentions of arranged marriage and misogyny, tiny bit of angst, yearning, mentions of dead parent, daddy issues
summary: sir finnick is admired by all. the noble ladies, fellow knights or the common peasants. for his honourable heart, undying loyalty, unwavering kindness and surprising knowledge not a lot of other knights possess. finnick swore a sacred vow to the king to protect the princess with his life and so he shall, upholding to the vow without a compromise, but underneath his mostly strong exterior, in the shadowed corners of the gardens, in the darkness of nights, across the beautiful ballrooms, his eyes are unable to hide the deep, forbidden love he feels for the princess
a/n: my biggest inspiration for this are czech fairytales which i recommend greatly, all of themmm, and i gotta say knight!finnick is my weakness now i love him…
word count: 2k
“with all due respect, m’lady, i do not believe he is a suitable courter for you hand.” the silver plate clad male, walked precisely three steps behind you, the distance respectful enough for his title, hands behind his back, eyes trailing over every inch of the garden, where peonies fade from the softest to screaming pinks.
panem laid somewhere between the lands of unknown —dark forests, dreadful mires, perilous crags, and the kindgdom of a never ending winter, one that was ruled by a man with a heart colder than ice. king crassus snow left behind two children after passing away due to a cruel illness, thaddeus and coriolanus snow, who as the first born prince, must find a noble girl for matrimony to become the new king of thorneveil.
“perhaps for my hand he is, finnick, but not my heart, of course, i agree with your concerns, but i am hesitant to go against my father’s wishes, i do not wish to upset him. prince coriolanus is a respected and wealthy man and i know that i will bring honour to my family and our marriage would be of gain to my kingdom, but,” a deep sigh coming from your own lips interrupted your perhaps a little long monologue before you carried on. “i am not sure i can stand a man this coldhearted.”
finnick o’dair, ever the fearless young man, worried. he dreaded thoughts of you being taken away and given to that tyrant of a man, he did not understand how could your father approve of this arrangement. the truce, of course, an important piece to the puzzle if you wish to reign, a sacrifice for the greater good, many have said, but not finnick. the bronze haired knight would have burn down the world until nothing remains, die a thousand times on a bloody battlefield, cross rivers, move mountains, only to save you.
“my liege, i can see this arranged marriage disturbs you greatly and i cannot stand by and only watch you suffer, perhaps i can intercede with his majesty on your behalf and voice my doubts.” if you were to be wed to a heir of a throne, it is no longer your father’s duty to provide for you. it is a choice, yes, but not with the service of your protection, dressing — that becomes the chore of your husband and finnick was certain, prince coriolanus will forbid you from seeing people he thought of as inferior. he would loose you.
“oh finnick, you are kind, but i do not want to send trouble upon you by my fault. you shall not speak unkindly about prince coriolanus in front of the council, they might tell on you and he is indeed a cruel man.”
your soft spoken words, a soothing balm for his aching heart and invisible wounds, brought a smile to his perfect features. his steps out of sudden fastened, the metal armor plates clinked against one another providing a soft sound. in a trice, finnick stood before you, forbidding you from walking forward, intense gaze of the sea greened orbs seeped into the depths of your pores, his eyes yearning for your attention, “will you?” left his throat when he obtained it.
“do you must ask?” you look up at him, lower lip ever so subtly trembling when it parted from the upper one, eyelashes fluttering in the spring breeze and the rest of your words were now refusing to leave your throat. the intensity in his eyes — you felt it with each and every human sense you controlled. how could a warrior look at a princess that way and not be punished? he absolutely would have been if anyone’s greedy eyes saw, that is why finnick and you, keep these moments hidden in the shadow of the pink blossom tree, behind the hundreds of rays’ of peonies where no one can take it away.
back and forth. back and forth. hypnotized almost, finnick watched the pendulum of a the huge golden clock swing, a fashionable contrast to the baby pink wall they decorated greatly. day by day, he accompanied you to breakfast, school lessons, your walk through the royal gardens, afternoon shenanigans, dinner and lastly to the library where you together read the stories of forbidden romance, true love, struggles, adventures. finnick then would lead you to your chambers, where the maids switch to take care of you, wishing you sweet dream and sound sleep, prepared himself, to find home, wash off the day, let his mother’s cooked meal comfort him and the feeling of his freshly laundered sheets sooth him.
perhaps it was just his mind playing tricks of him, but no one uttered a word. he hasn’t seen such quiet dinner in a very long period of time. firstly, his thoughts wondered to prince coriolanus, to the moment when the king announced to his daughter, she is about to be wed to the crown prince of the never ending winter kingdom .
“but father —“
“no buts! you will do as i say, you are my daughter, you are a princess, this is your duty, what you were born for. to be a wife, to be a mother and you better be one your failed to be.” cold, bitter taste the words leave on a tongue, a twist of a knife in a wound they are to a young broken heart. eight minutes. that is for how long finnick let the throne heiress out pf sight, leaving her with her father, big mistake. he hurried, walked as fast at he could if he wanted not to gain everyone’s attention. what was happening in the throne chamber, he wanted to know immediately.
“i am going to the celebrations tomorrow.”
your voice took finnick back from the memories, he lightly shook his head, raising his head back high, gaze immediately glued to you and the subtle clearing of his throat was heard due to the pin drop silence that followed your sentence. the celebrations at the village’s market. pf course. how could have he forgotten, that tomorrow may seventeenth, marks the anniversary of the queen’s fiftieth birthday. his majesty king arthur’s wife, isolde, was treasured by the people of panem all her life and after she passed unto the eternal rest, nothing changed, perhaps for the mourning. nobles, warriors, maids, commoners, children, they all still celebrated their queen.
“no. you are not going beneath the walls, not to the town. dangerous people live down there.” there was no doubt in that statement had indeed upset your father. in a way, he loved you. in a way, he loved his wife, he was certain he did. his worry and care for you was not feigned or a formality, loosing his only child would break him into the pieces he was made of, into the pieces your mother’s death break him into and your smile was the only glue holding him together.
“they are not dangerous, father. they are struggling and that is a difference. i want to bring honor to her memory.”
“by silly dancing, feasting and songs? don’t be foolish. you are not going, it is not safe.” the disdain in his voice made your heart ache a bit. you wished your father saw you as more than a puppet in his perfect play of the throne and peace. one day you would grown wings and will be as impactful as your dear mother was. or so you pray.
it was not fair. you wished to be allowed to cry, to be allowed to be anything more than just a princess. perhaps you were foolish, perhaps it is foolish to be unhappy when kilos of foods are served to you three times a day, when you had four dresses to change each and every day, when only your single bedroom was bigger than a house where families of five lived in just under the hill, but you were allowed to feel, no?
“i will be taking finnick with me,” unexpectedly you drop your fork to the plate, the loud noise changing the look in your bronze haired savior’s eyes, oh how he wished for you to have a better treatment, to be respected as the brilliant, kind woman you are than only a pawn. “i as well had lost my appetite. good night.”
pink heels click against the hard wooden floor, again and again as you storm off from the dining room, finnick following closely behind you, not before a short bow to the head of the kingdom, almost running to not loose you out of his sight.
“your majesty —“ one of king arthur’s councils spoke up, indignantly scowling, raising from his place, but the raise of his lord’s hand stopped him.
“let her go. she will abate her feelings by tomorrow.” the gray haired man spoke calmly, a great contrast to the previous coldness in his voice. you took so much after your mother it made him want to shed tears, but that was something he was not allowed to do. a king, a leader is never allowed to slip, to fail he just cannot. would he not love to see you shine brightly with happiness, find your true love and rule the people you love so much, along your husband. but that is impossible now. prince coriolanus had not only proposed but also threatened so your father will rather live with being the villain in your story than to have you hurt and loose the lives of innocent in a war they wouldn’t win.
“oh my dear, i wish for you to be by my side still.” his gaze found the painting of queen isolde — it hung high just on the wall opposite to his chair and the words left him like a silent prayer as if the dead could be brought back, as if she was going to hear him. king arthur was never much of a romantic man but he used to have his gallant moments. a book about soulmates, silly children’s fairytale, but it was her favorite so he read it. thousand times there and back just to be closer to her, because to loose a lover is to loose a half of our own soul.
“my princess. it would be my pleasure to accompany you to the town’s celebrations by the morning.” finnick understood your grief, your anger, he knew pain of losing someone so close to heart at such a young age. he wished to take your hurts away, heal your wounds and to love you for eternity without hiding, but if all that his fate has prepared for him, is to be your protector so shall he be, but perhaps he cannot protect you from yourself.
“i could not thank you enough.” you knew finnick in no way, small or loud, was allowed to speak against the nobles. ghat was the meaning of his title. a warrior, a soldier, a knight, he must obey and do as he is told to bring honor to his duty, his family, his kingdom even if he loses his life in the way, but you understood from his stance and tone, he was on your side.
“you must not thank me, it is my duty, m’lady.” finnick smiled at you gently once you both stood before the white, decorated door of your chambers. the moonlight piercing through the window illuminated your face features and for a moment he thought he saw hallucinating, seeing an angel and if heaven was you, he wanted it, all of it, all of you, to cherish it forever, before and after death, from dawn to dawn, never look away from the entrance to your soul of eyes they were. convinced they would heal, perhaps turn into a diamond he’d catch every one of your tears with the pad of his finger like it was sacred and he’d hush you in his arms until nothing but a smile remains.
knight!finnick o’dair x princess!reader au moodboard
princess!reader who lives in a kingdom that bears the same name as the mystic lake beneath the mountain ranges that line it’s borders, panem. her castle is majestic, surrounded by gardens of the pink peonies she loved so dearly. almost as dearly as the people in her kingdom. it was remarkable how she valued each and every human as if they were to be equals.
princess!reader who is sweet, polite, as precious as she can possibly be, truly the fairest of them all. her innocent look, childish curiosity and sensitivity oft hide her brilliance and fierce passion. she has humour, grace and courage. her teachers are overwhelmed with the number of questions they receive each lesson and the only voice that answers, remains her protector. a span older, sea-green eyed, sir finnick. the only one to cause her to perceive her specialness. no title, no dynasty, her.
princess!reader who despite the discomfort loves the huge pink robe dress, the laced corsets, the pretty heels, the ribbony bows in her hair, the tiara she sets on the crown of her head with every dawn, the jewels— pearls, rhinestones or gold. she loves being pretty but wishes to be free. not of her title, not even the in-her-humble-opinion little uptight royal family, but of marriage. a marriage with a man she does not love, a man she knows treats women poorly and disdains them. to be loved, is to been seen. her favourite quote from her favourite book said, a book she was once gifted by someone she wishes would see her, but prince coriolanus, was not the suitable one for her, in any universe.
princess!reader who loves love. young and curious, she wants to feel everything to the fullest. she spends her time getting lost in fairytales, where the princess steals her prince’s heart and their true love heals all their wounds. she wants to feel loved, to love someone so much, only she does not know how to. after her mother passed away, the only soul she feels connection to is her knight’s. not a bit of fairness holds the law saying a noble cannot be wed to a non-noble, not only that, if a common man tries to make court to a lady, there will be chastisement and as the king was known, there would be nothing but a beheading waiting on the end of this path for her sweet, sweet knight.
knight!finnick who grew up beside the royal family of panem, on the court with his father who was the lord commander, his mother who was the princess’s maid and his little brother that drowned when they were just children. in childhood finnick’s usual playdates were with the princess!reader herself, given his mother’s post and the king’s approval, it made his family’s life just a little bit easier to not have to worry about leaving him alone at home.
knight!finnick who thanks to his parents’ high positions never suffered from hunger, always wanted to help those in need and the day he lost his little brother he swore to himself he would never let harm get in the way of anyone dear to him, again. he trained for over ten years and when at the age of sixteen he was bestowed the title of knight, the king, to pledge his deep trust for finnick’s father, assembled him to be the guardian of his daughter among his other duties
knight!finnick who calls princess!reader “m’lady” “my princess” “my liege”, never “your highness”, always his and sometimes, when the moment asks to be theirs “my sweet girl” leaves his lips. always quieter, softer, more vulnerable. he walks her through the gardens, always a respectful distance behind her, hands behind his back, eyes everywhere. “do you worry a rose thorn would smite me?” princess!reader would always jest whenever finnick would touch the handle of his sword. “fear not, m’lady. i will slay any flower that might be a threat to you.” her bronze haired knight’s spirit always synced with her into a moment as precious as a snowflake.
knight!finnick who is gallant, graceful, witty and charming. he’s admired by all. the noble ladies, fellow knights or the common peasants. for his honourable heart, undying loyalty, unwavering kindness and surprising knowledge not a lot of other knights have. finnick swore a sacred vow to the king to protect the princess with his life and so he shall, upholding to the vow without a compromise, but underneath his mostly strong exterior, in the shadowed corners of the gardens, in the darkness of nights, across the beautiful ballrooms, his eyes are unable to hide the deep, forbidden love he feels for princess!reader, the most delicate touches that linger, the personal interest in her future. finnick more oft than not, finds himself torn between his feelings and duty.
knight!finnick who does not come from noble blood, but his soul and his heart are the most noble among any at the royal court. due to his intellect he is aware his choices might not always serve him, but he is torn. torn between being the foremost knight of this century and staying true to his heart. certainly he cannot be both. so as the moments pass, he choses to love her in silence, picture her delicate features in poets’ verses and dreams of what ifs that might have held truth were it that finnick had a royal blood flowing through his veins. to love, is to yearn. oh, he hated that book and the amount of truth it held, despite being children’s bed time story.
summary ۶ৎ you're suspicious over finnick's sudden clinginess.
warnings ۶ৎ allusions to finnick's prostitutions, finnick's awfully clingy
word count ۶ৎ 2.5k
author's note ۶ৎ mi bday special cuz im officially an adult in 42 mins ( ｡ﾟДﾟ｡)
There’s a shift in the air.
You could feel it from a thousand miles away. Hell, it’s like you have a sixth sense when it comes to Finnick—an internal alarm that goes off the second something is off with him. And this morning, it rang the moment you woke up.
Finnick’s arms were wrapped too tightly around your waist, his body practically fused to your back, his nose buried so deep in the crook of your neck it felt like he was trying to melt into you. You didn’t even have to open your eyes to know: he’s hiding something.
The problem is, you can’t figure out what.
It started with how hard you had to work just to get him out of bed. He clung to you like a lifeline, whining and pouting like a lovesick teenager. His sea-glass eyes held a look that was too intense for just morning cuddles, and when you cupped his face and asked what was wrong, he only gave you this goofy, love-drunk smile before pressing soft, distracting kisses to your lips. “Breakfast can wait,” he mumbled, flipping you over with too much ease for someone who looked so emotionally frazzled.
Then came the kitchen.
Your house is small, especially the kitchen, tucked into your inherited little wooden beach cottage, filled to the brim with mismatched pots and hanging herbs. Two people don’t fit in there, not without bumping hips and brushing arms—and Finnick? He was practically glued to you. Wherever you moved, he followed, hands around your waist, his head nestled in the crook of your neck again like he was trying to memorize your scent.
It would’ve been sweet if you weren’t so damn hungry. And if you weren’t still recovering from the thirty minutes of relentless affection earlier.
At one point, you spilled batter down your shirt from how many times you bumped into him.
That was the last straw.
You turned around, firm hands on his broad shoulders, brows raised in tired disbelief. “Baby,” you said, tone edged with warning. “Will you please just sit here and look pretty?”
He let out an exaggerated huff but nodded quickly the second your brows lifted higher, that signature ‘don’t test me’ look you’ve perfected over the years. He pressed a kiss to your nose—loud and wet and obnoxiously smug—and plopped himself down in one of the wooden chairs with a dramatized sigh. You backed away slowly, eyes narrowed, watching him as if he might leap right back up again the second you turned around.
He sat there like nothing was wrong, like he hadn’t been acting weird as hell since he got back last night.
Now it’s afternoon, and you’re curled up in the pink nook by your bedroom window, knees tucked under your chin, your fingers holding a book you’re not really reading. You’ve been trying to research flowers for your garden. Finnick built you a greenhouse just last month—white picket fence and everything—because you mentioned once, half-asleep, that you wanted to grow your own vegetables. Tomatoes. Garlic. Onions. Anything so you wouldn’t have to keep hauling yourself down to the market every few days.
It took him a day and a half to build it. Just showed up grinning with dirt on his cheeks and a ribbon tied to the gate latch.
But today, your mind can’t focus on gardening.
You keep replaying everything from the moment you woke up. The bed. The kisses. The slow, almost too tender sex. The shared shower—where Finnick insisted he wash your hair. The way he kept looking at you like you might disappear if he blinked too long. He’s always been affectionate, yes, but this was different. This wasn’t just clingy. This was like he was terrified.
He finally left the house an hour ago to swim, saying something about not missing his daily laps. It took you twenty-five minutes to get him out the door. He kissed you repeatedly. Begged you to come with him. Told you it wouldn’t be fun if you weren’t there. And when you refused—because, frankly, the ocean is freezing and you’re not trying to die today—he pouted like a child and dragged his feet all the way down the porch.
You shake your head, trying to will the thoughts away. Surely, if it were something serious, Finnick would’ve told you by now. He’s never kept things from you—not since the night he finally told you what the Capitol really made him do during those long absences. Not since he looked you in the eye and admitted the truth with shaking hands and a voice that barely held together.
You didn’t flinch, judge or looked at him differently. You just held him. Because you were glad that he let you in. That he trusted you enough to share the darkest parts of himself.
You love Finnick. That much is undeniable. Sometimes you think about where you’d be if you hadn’t met him two years ago—and the image is always darker. He pulled you out of a hole you didn’t even know you were sinking into after your parents died in the fire at District 4’s fish market. It was a freak accident—took several others too, including Finnick’s uncle, the last family he had.
So yeah. It’s an understatement to say you’re worried about him.
You glance down at your notebook and realize, with a tired blink, that you’ve scribbled “causes of Finnick’s sudden clinginess” instead of “causes of pest infestations in a garden.”
Your pen stills, and you blink—once, then again—staring down at the page as the weight of it all finally settles in. Even now, with two rooms and a closed door between you, you can still feel him—his presence like gravity tugging at your chest.
Before your thoughts can spiral deeper, the door creaks open and Finnick steps into the room.
He’s a mess. A towel is draped over his head, soaked and sliding halfway down his neck. His bronze skin is glistening with seawater, droplets trailing down his bare chest and soaking into the waistband of his shorts. He’s left a winding path of damp sand from the hallway, every step tracked in prints that smear slightly with each move he makes. His feet are bare and his curls are still dripping, little beads of water falling onto the wooden floor.
You stare at him from the window nook, frozen for a second, your book slipping slightly from your lap.
He looks at you like he hasn’t seen you in years.
Then, without a word, he crosses the room, moving with that same effortless grace he always has—except this time it’s less like a flirtation and more like a need. When he reaches you, he doesn’t pause or ask permission. He just climbs right in, damp and heavy and all saltwater heat, stretching himself across your curled-up body like he belongs there. Like he has to be there or he’ll unravel.
You grunt under the sudden weight, your hands instinctively bracing against his slick shoulders. “Finnick—”
He silences your protest with a peppering of kisses across your face. Cheeks, nose, forehead, chin, lips—he leaves no space untouched. Each kiss is frantic, uncoordinated, wet with ocean and something deeper—something you still can’t name.
“I missed you,” he mumbles between kisses. “God, I missed you. I was only gone for an hour and I missed you.”
“Finnick,” you laugh breathlessly, tilting your head back as he continues his unrelenting affection. “You were literally just—hey! You’re soaking the cushion!”
“Don’t care,” he mutters into your neck, arms wrapping tight around you like you might disappear if he lets go. “You smell better than the ocean.”
“Finnick,” you say again, softer this time. There’s a flicker of something uneasy in your chest, something too big to ignore anymore.
You push him back just enough to see him clearly, your hands moving up to cup his cheeks—firm, steady, squishing them together until his lips pout in that ridiculous way that practically begs to be kissed. It takes everything in you not to give in to the urge.
Instead, you hold his gaze.
His sea-green eyes blink at you, wide and soft, still wet at the lashes.
“What’s wrong, baby?” you finally ask, your voice barely above a whisper.
Finnick blinks at you, lips still squished between your palms. He gives a pitiful little hum, eyebrows raised innocently like he’s got no idea what you’re talking about.
“Nothing’s wrong,” he says, words slightly muffled through his puckered mouth. “I just love you, that’s all.”
You narrow your eyes. “Mmhmm.”
He tries to lean forward again, aiming another kiss at your jaw, but you tighten your grip on his cheeks and pull back just enough to stop him.
“Nope,” you say firmly. “We’re not doing that.”
His brows knit together, the pout deepening. “Doing what?”
“You trying to distract me with kisses and charm so you don’t have to answer.” You tilt your head, voice still teasing but firm beneath it. “We can sit like this for the rest of our lives if we have to. I’ll hold your face hostage, Finnick Odair. Don’t test me.”
A beat passes.
Something shifts in his expression. The smile fades. His mouth relaxes under your hands, and his eyes—those heartbreakingly beautiful eyes—drop slightly, losing the usual glint of mischief. He swallows hard, and when he looks back up at you, it’s like something inside him finally gives way.
“I had a dream,” he says quietly, almost like he’s ashamed of it. “Last night. You died.”
The words hit you like a jolt, but you don’t move, don’t flinch. You just keep your hands on his face, grounding him.
“You died,” he repeats, voice cracking slightly. “And it felt so real. I woke up and—I couldn’t breathe. I thought I lost you. I thought—God, it was so stupid, but I couldn’t stop thinking about how I waste so much time just… assuming you’ll always be here.”
He leans into your touch then, like he needs it to keep going.
“I realized I can’t do that. I don’t want to waste a single second. I don’t want to go another day without making sure you know how much I love you. How much you mean to me. Because if something happened to you and I didn’t say it enough or loud enough or clear enough…”
His voice trails off, and then he breathes out—soft and hoarse, like the weight is finally leaving his chest.
“I’d rather spend one tomorrow with you, making sure you know I love you,” he whispers, “than a thousand tomorrows without you… and never get the chance to say it.”
You stare at him, heart squeezing painfully, lips parted—but the words don’t come. Not right away. Because what do you even say to that?
You don’t say anything right away. You just release his face with the gentlest touch, then open your arms and pull him into you—tugging him into your chest like you're trying to shield him from the very world that haunts his dreams.
He doesn’t resist. He folds into you like a tide pulled home, arms locking tightly around your waist, his cheek pressed into your shoulder. He holds you like he thinks you might vanish again. Like it’s your last night together. And it breaks something inside you.
You run your fingers through his still-damp hair, slow and steady, the same way someone might soothe a frightened animal or calm a child after a nightmare. He trembles once. Just once. But you feel it. And it makes your chest ache.
“Finnick,” you murmur softly, lips brushing the shell of his ear, “I know you love me.”
His arms stiffen slightly, like he’s unsure if you’re just saying it to soothe him, but you pull back just enough to see his face, your hands resting lightly on his shoulders.
“I know it,” you repeat, firmer now. “Not just because you say it. But because you show it.”
You smile faintly, eyes locked on his. “You built me a greenhouse in less than two days just because I said I wanted to grow tomatoes. You kiss my forehead every time I fall asleep reading. You get up before sunrise to untangle my wind-chimes when the sea breeze knots them up. And when you think I’m not looking…” Your voice catches a little. You look at me like I hung the stars in your sky.
His eyes are glossy now, red at the rims, but he doesn’t look away. You don’t let him.
“You’ve already told me you love me a hundred different ways, Finnick. Even when you don’t say it.”
You rest your forehead against his, nose brushing his as you close your eyes. “So next time you have a dream like that… just wake me up. You don’t have to wait. You don’t have to hold it in. I want to be the person you can fall apart with. Okay?”
Finnick nods, slow and silent. And then he kisses you—not with urgency this time, not to dodge or distract—but like he’s memorizing the shape of forever on your lips.
It’s warm and slow and almost shy, like he’s still trying to believe you’re real. His lips move against yours with a tenderness that steals your breath, his hands trembling slightly as they cradle your waist, holding you like something precious. Like something breakable. Like he’s scared he might crush you if he holds too tightly, but terrified you’ll slip away if he doesn’t.
You kiss him back just as slowly, threading your fingers into his damp curls and brushing your thumbs over his cheekbones, tasting salt—maybe from the ocean, maybe from him. Neither of you pulls away. Time stops. The only sound is the faint ticking of the old wall clock in the corner and the hush of waves crashing somewhere in the distance, just beyond the house.
When you finally part, it’s only because you both need to breathe. Finnick leans his forehead against yours again, his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with yours.
“I don’t want to lose you,” he whispers. “Ever.”
“You won’t,” you whisper back, just as fiercely. “You’ve got me. For as long as you want me.”
His eyes flutter open. “Forever, then.”
You smile, tears burning quietly at the edges of your vision. “Forever sounds just right.”
He pulls you in again, tucking your head under his chin, wrapping himself around you until you can barely tell where you end and he begins. His heart beats against yours like it’s trying to speak a language only the two of you understand. The silence that follows isn’t awkward. It’s full. Heavy with everything that didn’t need words.
You stay like that for a while. Wrapped in each other. The sun dipping lower through the bedroom window, casting everything in a soft amber glow. Outside, the waves keep crashing. Inside, he’s holding you like he’ll never let go again.
