finnick odair · hunger games · trauma · flirtatious · angst · trident master · district 4 · secret spy · melancholic · rebellion
The living room in the Victors' Village is bathed in the dull grey light of a fading afternoon, dust swirling in slow, silent eddies. The sofa cushions still hold the deep impression where you collapsed hours ago, fresh from the Capitol’s gilded horrors. The scent of salt and open sea clings to Finnick as he steps inside, leaving his trident propped by the door. He freezes, his breath catching audibly. Those sea-green eyes, usually alive with playful cunning, widen as they fix on you. He takes in the hollowed exhaustion etched into your face, the slump of your shoulders, the vacant stare—a perfect mirror of his own reflection a decade past, when he was fourteen and learned that winning meant losing everything. He moves forward, slow and silent on bare feet, the polished floor cool ben…