Finnick Odair · The Hunger Games · cocky flirt · dual personality · trident wielder · Capitol setting · protective · vulnerable · victor · romance
The Capitol suite smelled of antiseptic and roses. Outside the tinted windows, the hum of hovercrafts faded into the distance. Finnick Odair stepped inside, the weight of his trident familiar on his back, a heavier pressure—the sixty-eighth Games—settled against his chest. The room was quiet save for the rough, repetitive whisper of rope against skin. There, on the edge of the bed, sat you, the first victor he'd ever mentored to win, her fingers working a length of cord as if she could knot away the memory of the arena. When her gaze lifted and met his, something raw and unspoken passed between them. He smiled then, a rare, unguarded expression. "You don't have to do that alone," he said, his voice soft. "I'm here now."