☼ the lakes (Finnick Odair) ☼
summary; you can't help dreaming of running away with your muse.
warnings; swearing, mention of violence, derogatory language, and death threats.
wc; 1.6k
notes; this is a songfic. the lakes by taylor swift.
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As much as you hate to say this, with how everything is going right now, you can’t keep doing this.
There’s nothing that makes you second guess your choice of staying with Finnick more, than going to the Capitol together to mentor every year. You’ll go as a happy couple, without a single issue between you two, only to come home completely miserable, questioning whether or not it’s the right choice to stay together.
They know exactly what they’re doing each time you arrive. It didn’t bother you in the beginning, because you thought that tough skin never wears, but you were wrong. When they’re clawing at the same spot every year, it’s hard not to get sensitive over the topic, even with Finnick.
They’re hoping that you’re going to finally call it quits, and you’re getting close.
You don’t know how Finnick does it anymore. You get that he’s in the Capitol eye all the time, so he’s got experience when it comes to them fucking with him, but you thought that by now, there would be some urge to bite back and push them away. Especially when he sees how upset you get by their comments.
He likes to tell you that you need to stop worrying, and focus on the relationship more, that it’s easier to ignore them when you don’t care. His go-to question is, “What are they going to do about it?” Recently, you’ve been asking him, “What haven’t they done about it?”
You said you get upset by their comments, which is more than just words on the street, which you’ve gotten as well. They started off innocent enough at the start, where they told you to break up with him, you’re not good for him, they like him better single. And it turned worse, when they realized it wasn’t working.
You’re every vulgar name under the sun, apparently. And they own Finnick, which means that you’re not allowed to have him. If you don’t give him up soon, then your entire family’s going to be killed, while you watch. After that, they’ll kill you too, in front of everyone, where they’ll celebrate and throw a festival in Finnick’s honor.
You have received so many death threats, that you don’t bother to leave the Tribute Center without the Capitol escort or the stylists. You know that you’d be safer in numbers, and you stopped bothering to try and get away from that.
They have smeared your name across every platform possible, picking out every single one of your insecurities, and ensuring that the magazines and newspapers got to you somehow. So that you’d have to see what the latest rumor there is about you inside of the Capitol.
There’s only so much Finnick can do. He had a conversation with Coriolanus, in hopes that he’d get his people under control. It worked for one summer, by the time you came around the following year, it’s like it was a contract that lasted for a single month. You were back to being afraid.
Finnick can’t stop mentoring, per Snow’s rules, and even though you’ve tried dropping out a couple times now, Finnick won’t let you. He wants you to be there with him, because you’re his partner in crime. You’re the person he wants to work with in the Capitol to bring tributes home. He doesn’t want anyone else.
“Come here, baby.” Finnick murmurs, pulling you into his side. He presses a kiss to your forehead, “Don’t let them do this to you again, please.”
“I can’t do it again, Finnick.” You tell him, “I won’t survive another Capitol trip. We won’t survive another trip.”
“It’s not that bad.” He says, you meet his eyes for a few seconds. He’s got his head tilted, mouth pulled into a frown.
“They threw a drink at me this time.” You emphasize, “During their interviews, I had to sit with wine on my dress. How am I supposed to help them when I can’t even go talk to sponsors without ruining their chance? It’s not fair for them!”
Finnick stares at the gravel wordlessly.
“It’ll be one summer, you can take Mags with you. They love her.” You watch his face.
“What happens when you decide you don’t want to do it the year after that? And so on? I’m going to be left alone to deal with those people.” He shakes his head, “You can’t go there without them hating you, and I get eaten alive every night. I don’t like it either, (Y/n). I’m just asking you to suffer with me.”
“They want me dead.” You stop walking, “That’s my safety, babe.”
“I’m sorry.” He brushes a strand of hair out of your face, “I really am, (Y/n).”
You gather your hair into your hand before tossing it over your shoulder, “I’ll meet you at home.”
“Where are you going?”
“To clear my head.” You take a step toward him, he holds your jaw still to kiss you. When he pulls away, he gives you a half-smile before turning and walking away, going to Victor’s Village. You watch him go for a few minutes, before you turn to the left, and head straight for the woods.
It’s overgrown, the bushes and grass reach your knees easily. Your fingers brush over the top of the leaves, pulling them away from their position. When you move on, they spring back into place, bouncing from side to side until it eventually settles.
You like it out here. There are times you wish you grew up somewhere with more trees and less water. You’ve gotten lost here a few times, spending whole days wandering back home. The fences that were put up during the Dark Days are pushed back far, likely anticipating that the trees would get cut down and be replaced by houses or factories.
You’re glad that the forest has gone untouched here.
There’s a vague path stomped into the grass, one that you’ve taken before. You have two spots you like to go to, depending on which is closer and how far you want to go into the woods. Every time you come here, you’re upset in some way, and you unintentionally take your anger out on the flourishing plants that conceal you.
You love Finnick, you really do, but you can’t continue to sacrifice your happiness for him. And you are so genuinely afraid that you won’t be able to continue to be with him, if something doesn’t change, soon. The Capitol might treat him harshly at times, but they also praise the ground he walks on. He has no idea just how much you bottle to keep from upsetting him while you’re there.
If it were up to you, you’d leave and never come back. You’ve got nothing to lose, everything that had mattered to you is gone now. Snow took them from you to punish you for saying no to him. Finnick was the only one of the victors who bothered to check up on you after, because he knew what it was like to be isolated like that.
Finnick is the only person you have left, without him, you’re nothing. You can’t afford to lose him to the Capitol.
It’d be so easy for you to come out here and disappear, you’re sure that no one important would notice, like the mayor or the peacekeepers. They hardly care that you show up to the reaping each year, it would be Finnick that they’d be looking for.
There’s got to be some place to hide out here, beyond the fence. The trees are tall and thick, creating a dense forest. The leaves provide shade and shelter from the hovercrafts that fly by. There’s wild plants, and animals that you haven’t seen close up in a long time.
The further you go, the harder it would be to find you.
It would be just you and Finnick, forever. There would be no Capitol, no one following you around with an opinion, trying to pin you down and pull you apart. Every moment could be yours, without someone coming along and ruining it. You could live longer in peace, than in violence.
Those windermere peaks could be a perfect place to cry without someone turning your tears against you. It could be home, instead of some distant fantasy. And you’ll go, but not without Finnick, holding your hand the entire way there. Your future, so close and so far at the same time.
There, the air is crisp and clears your mind. The shade is cooler, you could sit in it for hours. The grass tickles every inch of skin that it can reach. The sun shines brighter, no clouds there to hide it. The birds sing louder, there are no threats to quiet them anymore.
You could be there for years, no one would come to bother you. You’d stay so long that the wisteria would grow right over your bare feet, locking you to the earth for the rest of your life.
You could finally be who you are without people telling you that you aren’t good enough for him. There’s no one to judge you, as you and your muse sit beside the lake, where all the lovers went to die before you. And you’d live in a small house, you and your family, where roses sprout out of frozen ground because the love you have to give is insurmountable.
You wish you were somewhere other than here.
