be kind.

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

hello! I’m happy you’re here!

about me:

my name’s Syd but I also go by Bean on here. I use she/her pronouns. I’m currently 26 years old and have a cat that I love dearly, and I’m just getting comfortable with sharing my writing ideas on here which has been exciting!

writing info:

here are my request guidelines. be sure to read that before requesting anything!

below is a masterlist (that I’ll try to update when I remember to) of all my current writing.

Requests are open currently, but please be patient with me as I’m still finding my groove as a fanfic writer :)

Last Updated: June 2026

Currently writing for: Dispatch (video game), The Hunger Games

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

DISPATCH

Robert Robertson III

• Experiencing Robert’s anger firsthand

• Robert x Chubby!Reader #1

• Robert x Chubby!Reader #2

• Robert notices you don’t accept help easily

• You’re insecure of Robert and Blonde Blazer (PART ONE) (PART TWO)

• Reader with major mommy issues (PART ONE) (PART TWO)

THE HUNGER GAMES

Finnick Odair

tag list: @just-lilita @idreamofbunnies69

previous part

————————

Fuck.

You were still standing in the kitchen, eyes burning from the onslaught of tears that you were unsuccessfully trying to stave off, when you heard the front door to your shared apartment with Robert open up.

“Hi Beefy boy, hi sweet girl! Where’s your mama, hmm?” You hear Robert talking to your two fur babies in a voice that he always swears “is not a baby voice, sweetheart! I just, I dunno, I can’t contain the love I got for them, ya know?”

You take a shuddering breath, keeping your back to Robert as he rounds the corner. He stops in his tracks, however, when he notices a few things.

One — you’re clearly tense, shoulders hiked up an uncomfortable amount.

Two — you’re gripping the counter as if it personally wronged you (which, in his opinion, it kinda has with the amount of times you’ve caught your hip on the edge of it, resulting in some random bruises).

Three — you’re clearly avoiding turning to look at him. You only do that when you’re trying to either suppress or hide whatever you’re feeling.

Having clocked all of this in the few seconds he’s looked at you, Robert waltzes right over to you and wraps himself around you from behind. He presses a kiss to the space right behind your left ear and gives you a moment to gather yourself before he pounces.

You take a few more shaky breaths, closing your eyes as you relax into Robert’s hold. It’s okay, you’re not in her house anymore. You technically don’t even have to see her if you don’t want to.

Once Robert sees that you’ve calmed down a bit, he ventures into things. “Hi sweetheart. You wanna talk about it?”

You let out a huff of laughter because of course Robert could read your distress from a mile away.

You shift a bit in his arms, turning to face him. Your hands slide up his chest to rest near his shoulders as your eyes slowly follow the same path up until you lock eyes.

And man, no matter how many times you look at him, he still manages to take your breath away.

His brown eyes shine with concern and love, wanting — no, aching to take and carry whatever problem you think you need to manage on your own. His thumbs rub gentle circles into your hips as your back rests against the countertop behind you.

You grimace a bit once you zone back in, Robert’s lips quirking up at the corners when he realizes he lost you for a sec but he’s always willing to wait for you.

“It’s just… my mother texted me today.”

Robert’s eyebrows lift at your statement, letting out a small hum to urge you on.

“She said that there’s a family get-together this weekend. Everyone’s going to be there.”

Robert nods, but is a bit confused at where this is going. “Okay… was there a reason she sent this to you? She’s obviously been aware of your radio silence since the last time you two saw one another.”

You wince a bit knowing that he’s not going to like the next words out of your mouth.

“She’s expecting me to come and wants me to bring you to meet everyone.”

At this, Robert lets out a bark of a laugh, not believing the audacity of your mother.

Well, I can’t blame him for that reaction. He hasn’t met the Wicked Witch yet.

He stops himself once he sees the seriousness that lines your facial expression. “Oh fuck, you’re serious aren’t you? Baby, why on earth would you subject yourself to going? You know it’s just going to be a shitshow.”

You grow a bit frustrated at that because Robert doesn’t fully understand the family dynamic that exists with you and your mother — sure, the two of you have trauma bonded a bit before with some similar situations from growing up. Robert isn’t a stranger to strained relationships with parental figures.

However, he doesn’t know.

He’s never had to deal with her never-ending guilt trips, often ending in her crying because “how could you be so selfish?”

He’s never had to be on the receiving end of one of her “I’m just so disappointed in you, sweetie” speeches.

He’s never had to feel the need to apologize for something that isn’t even your fault, all because you need to be the bigger person in the moment.

He’s never had to deal with the anxiety that stems from constantly walking on eggshells, never knowing if your actions or words will set her off.

He’s never had to deal with her. And so, you try to calm the bubbling frustration you feel building up because you know it’s stemming from everything else and has nothing to do with Robert.

But your mouth has different plans.

You push yourself away from Robert, making to move around him. “OF COURSE I know it’s going to be a shitshow! You don’t think I don’t realize how it’ll affect me by attending? It’s not that easy to say no.”

Robert grabs your wrist before you can get too far. “Whoa, whoa, whoa — not so fast. Sweetheart, I wasn’t meaning anything bad by that. I just worry because from what you’ve told me before, I know it’s not great between you and your mom. Hell, I’ve seen how you are after you’ve gotten off the phone with her. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to go.”

You tense up, your body still on the defense. You close your eyes for a moment, taking another deep breath before continuing, “I can’t just say no, Robert. You don’t know how many times I’ve been put in this same situation. I can already predict how her little speech will be if I don’t show up. ‘Of course, my ungrateful daughter decides not to grace us with her present. You know, it doesn’t surprise me because I know you haven’t been watching your weight and you figured you should avoid me since you don’t want to listen to me. I’m only trying to help you, honey.’” You mimick your mother’s voice on the last bit, already hearing the rest of her guilt-inducing words that will be said to you if you elect to not attend.

“Okay, fine. I’ll tell her no then.” Robert says in all seriousness, his gaze shifting to be more determined as he thinks about all of what he wants to say to your mother.

Your eyes widen at that, your heart leaping into your throat at the very thought of Robert speaking to her. You don’t even realize you’re shaking your head fast until Robert shifts to hold your cheeks, eliciting you to stop.

“Baby, relax, it was a joke. I won’t do that to you.” You ease a bit at that, but your nerves still simmer deep in your gut. Robert senses this and opts for a different approach. “Okay, how about this? We’ll go for a little bit, make the appearance and what not. But the second that she tries anything, we are getting the fuck out of there. Does that sound alright?”

You just stare at Robert and are just reminded of how much you utterly love this man. The fact that he’s willing to deal with my toxic mother is completely crazy and makes no sense, but—

“But I’m doing it because I’m also utterly in love with you, sweetheart.” You didn’t even realize you’d been speaking out loud until Robert’s voice breaks you out of your stupor. His lovesick gaze brings a smile to your face and you lean in to kiss him. He fully wraps you in his arms then, letting out a small sigh of happiness. When you pull apart, you finally open up your text thread with your mother and send her a “👍” before exiting out of your messages and kissing Robert once again.

———————————

It’s officially the weekend and you’re now faced with both having to see your mother and introduce Robert to your entire family.

“Tell me why we couldn’t have faked our deaths and left the country?” You ask Robert as you both walk up the small path leading to your parents’ door.

Robert chuckles, shooting you a small wink as he presses the doorbell. “Because who’d look after our two babies back home?”

You automatically say, “Chase.”

“Fair. But we’re not, so let’s face this and then we can go home to them.”

You pout a bit before conceding. “Okay, fineeeeee, BUT we’re watching some of the new season of Love Is Blind when we get home.”

“… deal.”

At that moment, the door swings wide open and you’re greeted with the gaudy scent of your mother’s perfume. She’s dressed in loose white capri pants, a turquoise color blouse, and some sandals.

Ever the picture-perfect hostess, you bitterly think.

“Ahh, darling! I’m so glad you’ve made it. And it looks like you do know how to listen! Hi, I’m Name’s mother. And you are?” She doesn’t even bother giving you a hug as she zeroes in on Robert entirely, reaching out a freshly-manicured hand to him.

Robert lightly grasps it before introducing himself.

“Well, it’s so nice to finally meet you! I know Name has been hoarding you all to herself — I swear, sometimes she forgets that not everything revolves around her! Come on in, everyone’s out back on the patio.”

You tense at the comment and notice Robert clenching his jaw out of the corner of your eye, but you elect to say nothing as you just arrived.

The three of you move through your childhood home, your grip on Robert’s hand tightening the further you get inside. Robert takes a moment to look around, noticing how there’s hardly any family photos around. The place looks straight out of one of those fancy home decor magazines.

You catch him looking around and while your mother’s back is turned, you shoot him a questioning look.

He leans closer to you, “No family photos?”

You make an “ah” face before whispering, “Yeah, mom thought that I looked unflattering or too plump in most of the photos, so she decided early on to just leave them in some photo albums in the family office. I don’t think I’ve seen one up on the walls since I was a little kid.”

Robert feels his heart ache for what you had to experience growing up. Granted, he knows a bit about coming from a shitty home life, but the way that your mother framed so many things as being an issue caused by you in some way (especially pertaining to your weight) is just outlandish and frustrating.

He nods once at your statement and quickly leans over to give you a quick peck. You give him a small grin before returning your attention to what lies before you.

The rest of your family.

You take a deep breath, squeeze Robert’s hand once more for luck, and allow yourself to get pulled into the grilling of the century.

———————————

You’ve been at your family gathering for all of 15 minutes before the real shitshow starts.

Robert was introduced to your other family members, primarily your father who pulled you aside later and said that he was “glad you found someone who makes you happy, bubs” to which you immediately hugged him for.

He’s also been introduced to too many aunts, uncles, and cousins for him to keep track of, but hey, he’s trying his best!

After the excitement of you bringing your “secret” boyfriend settled down, you both grabbed some food and sat down with a couple of your cousins who you’re the closest with. They were intrigued on how you two met and Robert happily shared the story, allowing you a chance to breathe and collect yourself from the overwhelming anxiety that’s been plaguing you all week.

It was during this moment that you heard it.

It being your mother talking with a few of your aunts and uncles as well as some old family friends who you hadn’t seen in a long time.

One of the couples, who’ve been close with your parents since you were little, never really rubbed you the right way. They always seemed to agree with some of the awful things your mother had to say about you, especially in regard to your size, and even went so far as to add their own input. They had a few children of their own that they often compared you to, citing how “you could take a few tips from them, sweetie, our kiddos love to stay in shape and could help you get on track with losing a few pounds!”

Tuning into the conversation that was conveniently taking place not too far from where you were sitting, you could hear your mother speaking.

“I am happy for her, I am — it’s just hard to believe is all.” A few hums of understanding were heard from the rest of the group.

One of your aunts chimed in, “Yeah, it’s hard to believe that our kids are growing up! I never thought I’d see the day that Name brought someone home for us all to meet.”

“That’s what hard to believe! I mean, don’t you think with how much extra weight she’s put on that that would be a dealbreaker for him? Or anyone for that matter? I just can’t believe after all this time, she’s still refusing to follow those workout routines I’ve sent her and use the meal plans my fitness coach made.” Your mother huffed a bit at the end, taking a sip from her wine glass.

Your parents’ friends, the couple mentioned before, chose this moment to speak. The man said, “Truthfully, I think he’s probably feeling sorry for the poor thing and is acting a bit out of pity.” His wife nodding sympathetically.

You didn’t hear the rest of the conversation, a faint buzzing taking over as your brain focused in on what was said.

Hard to believe.

Extra weight put on.

Feeling sorry for me.

Acting out of pity.

A slight shake to your thigh grabs your attention, but only for a second as you quickly notice how much your thigh jiggled from the movement.

Wouldn’t be that way if I actually listened to her.

“Baby, did you hear what I said?” Robert leans into your space a bit, searching for your eyes that seem to evade his at all costs. He picks up on your sudden change in mood, noting how your breath is picking up again and you’re trying to make yourself appear smaller. Oh no, he thinks. Not on my watch.

He chances a glance at your two cousins who you’ve been sitting with and the one subtlety nods their head at the group just off to the right of your table. The group that happens to include your mother.

Fuck.

Robert tries getting your attention once more. “Sweetheart, I’m going to grab another drink from inside. You wanna join me quick? You guys want us to grab you anything?” He looks at your cousins once more and realizing what he’s trying to do, they both offer a drink selection to give you more of a reason to step away from the outside gathering for a moment.

Robert grabs your hand and before you can even try to protest, he pulls you out of your seat and guides you toward the patio door. He briefly locks eyes with your father, who sends him a sincere look, before heading inside with you in tow.

The two of you round the corner, out of sight from the others, and Robert places himself between you and the door. He notices the glassiness of your eyes and curses before pulling you into a hug.

You melt into his body, releasing a small sob before letting it all out. All of the worries, the frustrations, the overall hurt of not being enough for your mother every single time. Your body shakes from the force of your crying and Robert takes it all in, allowing you the space and safety of his embrace to escape from everything and just be you.

Your crying eventually slows down until it’s nothing more but a few shuddering breaths and some residual tears on your cheeks. Robert quickly takes care of the watermarks on your skin, softly brushing beneath each eye before giving you a small kiss to your forehead. He gives you a look, you okay or you need more time? to which you shake your head. He nods at this before speaking.

“Alright sweetheart, lay it on me. Whose ass do I need to kick?”

You let out a breathy giggle, sniffling before shaking your head once more. Robert tuts at you for this.

“Nope, we’re not just brushing this off. You just sobbed into my chest and now you’re trying to say there’s no one who I need to beat up? Baby, I want names.”

“Robbie,” oh, now you’re pulling out the big guns as you only use this nickname in absolute minimal instances, “I don’t want to make a scene.”

“Well, you’re in luck because you won’t be. I will.” He firmly grasps your chin when you try to duck away, bringing your eyes back up. When you see the fire-laced determination laid within those gorgeous eyes, you know you won’t win this battle. Letting out a slight huff, you relay to him what you overheard.

“There, now you know what happened, so let’s just leave while we’re away from everyone—“ You cut yourself off as Robert immediately rushes out the patio door. Your heart stutters in your chest.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You quickly follow suit and step outside to see him storming up to your mother and the small group around her.

You can’t exactly hear what he’s saying to them but all of a sudden, you hear a “I beg your pardon?” from your mother and a few gasps from the others in the group before Robert turns and addresses the rest of the crowd.

“And for anyone else who needs to hear it, I better not hear anyone say anything negatively about Name again, especially about her body, or I will fucking end you. She is the kindest, most thoughtful person I know and is an absolute stunner. I’m so goddamn lucky that she chose me to be with and I thank whatever higher power there is for gracing me with her presence because she’s an actual goddess. She’s fucking gorgeous and does not need ANY one of you trying to tell her otherwise.” Even though the party was outside, you could hear a pin drop with how quiet it was after Robert finished talking. He turned towards your two cousins, “It was nice meeting you both. I’m glad to know that not everyone in this family are fucking pricks.” They both laughed and gave you a small wave.

Robert turned towards your father. “Sir, it was nice to finally meet you as Name has spoken highly of you. I hope to see you again, hopefully in a better setting next time.”

As he was walking back to where you were standing stunned on the patio, your mother chose this moment to speak up once again.

“How dare you try to speak to me and my guests like this in my own home. No wonder you’re with Name, the both of you are perfect for each other, with acting entitled and self-centered. Hell, I’m surprised, Name. I thought you’d have more respect for yourself and would try to make some changes to better please your future part—“

“ENOUGH!” Your father’s voice boomed out, deftly cutting off your mother’s tirade. She turned, wide-eyed and mouth hanging open, to glare at her husband.

“And what do you—“

“I said enough. You have continuously belittled, insulted, tore down, and hurt our girl for far too long. And I’m ashamed that it’s taken me this long to finally call you out on it.” He shoots you a quick glance full of shame and guilt, causing your eyes to tear up once more. “If you continue to treat our daughter like this, she’s going to cut us out of her life once and for all, and I won’t wait for that to happen. Either you shape the hell up and start treating her like an actual human being or we can end this entirely.” A small gasp left the mouths of some of your aunts and uncles, realizing the severity of your father’s words.

He turned to you and Robert. “I’m sorry, bubs. I know that won’t make up for the past, but starting now, I’m changing my priorities to what it should’ve been this whole time: you.” You wipe your cheeks, giving him a watery smile. He nods once again before ushering the two of you out. “I think we’ve had enough for tonight. Let’s start wrapping this up, everyone!”

Robert and you head back out the front door, with him primarily leading you as you’re still in a state of shock at what just took place.

Once you both are buckled in, you sit for a moment in the driveway. Robert notes your silence and reaches over, squeezing your hand.

You glance up at him, the tears on your cheek finally dried up, and he asks, “You okay? I’m sorry if I overstepped or—“

“Let’s get married.”

Robert shuts his mouth immediately after you spoke.

“I mean it. You— you’re incredible and I just, I’m still a little in shock at what just happened, but you reminded me once again how much I love you and am lucky to have you in my life. And I don’t want to waste another second of it.”

Robert’s looking at you as if you hung the stars and the moon. He gives you a wide grin before leaning over to passionately kiss you, putting everything he’s feeling at the moment into the kiss.

The two of you part for air and Robert says, “Okay, let’s get married.”

————————————

Summary: More time has passed in District Four and you're slowly acclimating to your situation; however, it soon becomes apparent that things were too good to be true when you slip up.

A/N part one: Another time jump! Like I said in the last post, I'll probably be doing more time jumps as the series continues on. Once we hit that sweet sweet lovin' with our resident fish boy, it'll be more consistent in terms of storyline pacing.

part four

—————————

It's been a month now and things are... better.

Somewhat.

It's hard to tell at times because you're trying not to think about it too much. Because then you'll spiral and it'll be harder to keep your story straight. However, you haven't spiraled too much since that night when you overheard Finnick questioning your stay once more to Mags and you broke down in the safety of your room.

Crazy to think of it as my room, you huff a laugh as you continue on your walk into town.

You're on your way to Deena's shop to work a shift. You had stopped back in shortly after Mags introduced you during your initial shopping trip, and you had asked Deena if she needed any extra hands around the store. She had lit up at the inquiry, immediately asking what your availability looks like and if you'd ever worked in a similar job before back in your home district.

You couldn't exactly tell her that you've had plenty of retail and customer service experience, from working at Target to waiting tables a a local restaurant in your hometown, because she would look at you like you had a second head at the mention of these random store names.

Granted, you wouldn't have to mention any of the stores, but just to be on the safe side, you say that you haven't had much work experience aside from helping out your family.

Deena wasn't put off by this, instead opting to show you around the store a bit more, explaining certain aspects of how she runs things -- what inventory looks like, how her prices work, the usual factors involved in retail.

You've been working there for the last couple weeks and it's been so nice.

Nicer than your previous jobs.

The big difference between Deena's store and your past experience was that there didn't seem to be any other employees and Deena was extremely easy-going. Your previous work experiences weren't the best, seeing as some of your old coworkers loved to mess with your work locker ("It's not like you really needed those chips, right? You've got plenty in reserves!") and constantly made jokes about your weight ("I don't get why our manager thought hiring Miss Piggy over there would do the company any good"). Plus, your managers never did anything to stop it because there wasn't really any proof you could procure to show what was happening and why would they listen to the newbie compared to their seasoned employees?

Thank god I don't have to see those douchebags again, you think as you push open the door, the bell above letting out a small chime.

"Hi sweetie! I'm so happy you're here -- I got something to show you!" Deena shouts from the back room behind the front counter. You quickly drop off your bag underneath the countertop and shuffle into the back, trying to locate where Deena might be.

Suddenly, there's a CRASH! from your left and you startle a bit as a few boxes tumble over from one of the stacks piled high all around the room.

"Ah shit, I did not mean for that to happen. None of the boxes hit you, right?" Deena pops up from behind the other stacks, dust particles floating around her slightly frizzy hair as she brushes her hands off on her pants. She's dressed in a comfy frock today, lightweight to combat the heat that seems to be taking over in Four.

You smile and shake your head, "None of the boxes hit me. Are you okay? It seemed like a pretty big stack to fall."

Deena lets out a small chuckle, waving off your worry with a wink. "Not the first tower to fall, certainly won't be the last! That's not what I wanted to show you though. It's over here, c'mon."

She leads you to a different stack, one that's a bit more sturdy and has an open box on top. You peer in and see an assortment of what appears to be materials to make jewelry -- brightly colored beads, different types of textured string, various clasps and hooks for necklaces, bracelets, and earrings.

Deena gives you a bright grin, "Neat, huh? I got the shipment in yesterday and haven't sorted through things yet, but I figured this could be a little project we work on during slow days. I've always wanted to sell something alongside the clothes and haven't found any good jewelry places that aren't ridiculously expensive to buy from."

"This is so cool! I used to love making bracelets when I was growing up." You slowly dig through the box, taking in the different color schemes and types of beads included as your brain starts to put together some ideas of potential products you could create.

"Back in Nine right? Did you ever think of selling some of your creations? I'd love to see some of your work if you brought any with you to Four!" You stiffen up while Deena's talking, not even realizing your slight slip-up when talking.

It's okay, it's nothing big. Nothing I can't fix.

You shake your head and try to not waver when speaking, "Sadly, I didn't have time to grab too many things when I was heading out from my house. We were running late to head to the train station and we had been busy with a few issues at the house, so I only really had time to say goodbye before I left."

Deena nods, but seems to still have some lingering confusion. She promptly jostles herself out of it, "Anywho, I thought that today could be an inventory day. We'll go through, take note of what came in, and put it away on the storage shelves back here. Then we'll probably call it a day as I'm not anticipating too many customers today seeing as the market by the docks is open."

You let out a small breath you didn't realize you were holding and get to work. Soon enough, you both fall into a rhythm and before you realize it, the day has turned into evening and your shift has come to an end. You bid Deena goodnight and grab your things, moving towards the door. Before you can exit though, Deena's voice calls out to you once more.

"Oh, by the way, I just wanted to say I'm really thankful for your help around the store! It's been nice having another person here." She appears almost bashful at admitting the last part and you have a slight realization that perhaps you and Deena aren't that different. You've appreciated having another person asides from Mags to talk to, seeing as Finnick still isn't making any attempt at getting to know you.

Your face softens and you shoot her a grateful smile, "I've enjoyed helping out! I... it's nice to know another person in Four." Deena's bashfulness morphs into appreciativeness, a shared look of understanding passing between the two of you.

"Well, sweetie, you've got a friend in me! We'll have to get together sometime outside of store hours, maybe go for a drink down at the pub near the water."

"I'd love that." With that, you slip out of the door and start the trek back to Victor's Village.

You make it back before dusk settles in, taking in the beautiful sunset that's slowly fading along the water's horizon as you walk up the path towards Mags' house. You're surprised you haven't run into Finnick yet and while opening the front door, it dawns on you that you haven't seen him in the past few days.

Weird, usually he's over here dropping something off for Mags.

You toe off your shoes and call out for Mags. Muffled noises are coming from the kitchen, so you figure that's your best bet on where she might be.

You wander in and are greeted with the delectable scent of garlic, onion, and fresh bread. You smile at Mags who turns away from the stove and gives you her usual greeting.

"How was your day today?"

She shrugs her shoulders, shaking her head a bit. You've come to know that as her way of saying same old, same old.

You lean against the island across from her, "Well, it smells wonderful in here! What are you making?"

She gestures to a recipe lying on the counter and slides it over your way. You can see at the top, Finnick's Famous Pasta!, written in a scrawl different from Mags' usual writing.

Oh, it must be one of Finnick's recipes then. You hum as you push it back her way. Mags motions towards you.

How was your day?

You beam a bit, "It was great! Deena actually got some really neat things in her last shipment, so we spent the day going through inventory and putting away the new items. She's wanting to make her own jewelry!"

Mags' face brightens at this and she reaches over the squeeze your hand, pleased that work seems to be going well for you. She turns back to the stove to stir the sauce that's simmering in a pot next to some boiling water, awaiting the fresh-looking pasta resting off to the side. She glances at you over her shoulder, nodding towards the table.

Go sit down.

You head to the table, sitting in the chair that you've claimed as "yours" over the past month. You look out the patio door as Mags finishes up cooking dinner and soon enough, the two of you are indulging in the slight feast that Mags has laid out for you.

Finishing up a bite, you wipe your mouth with your napkin before speaking, "Is Finnick joining us tonight? I noticed that he hasn't come around the last couple of days."

Mags was about to take another bite of her pasta, but freezes up at your question. You've gotten to know her better since you appeared on the beach, and as such, you feel like you've gotten pretty good at reading her expressions and body language.

Because of this, a sinking feeling starts developing in your stomach because of how she seems to brace herself after processing what you asked.

She locks eyes with you, seeming to be at a loss for what to say.

And it's in that moment that you remember who exactly you're living with... which book series you found yourself literally immersed in.

Fuck, I can't believe I forgot.

You mentally berate yourself because the answer is right there in Mags' eyes.

"He's in the Capitol, isn't he?"

A brief glimmer of shock passes through Mags' eyes before she solemnly nods at you. You glance down at your lap where your hands rest, finding that you've been digging your nails into the palms of them as soon as it hit you, your nails close to breaking the skin.

If he's in the Capitol... then that means he's probably having to see clients. Your stomach rolls at the very thought of the sinister things these people are subjected to.

It was unfathomable the first time you read it, it's even harder to bear when you've met one of them in person.

God, I don't even know if Mags was ever subjected to that. You catch yourself glancing at her once more in thought before you chance speaking once more.

"Is he... going to be there for awhile then?"

Mags shrugs her shoulders once more.

It's hard to tell.

You both sit in silence for another moment. You don't even realize you started speaking until the words are out of your mouth.

"God, I hope the ones he gets aren't completely god-awful to deal with. Hopefully he's able to leave soon and come home." As soon as the words left your mouth, you move your hands up to cover your lips. The blood has drained from both yours and Mags' faces as the truth behind your words settles between the two of you.

You start to shake your head as you remove your hands, opening your mouth to speak but Mags cuts you off with a hardened look. She gets up for a brief moment, grabbing her trusty writing pad and pen and takes her seat once more.

Pushing her plate out of the way, she furiously scribbles on the paper before hastily pushing it your way. You can see that she only wrote two sentences, but regardless, her words steal the breath out of your lungs.

How in the hell do you know about that? Who are you?

Well... it was good while it lasted.

A/N part two: I felt inspired to write a little something for this series as I don't want it to become stagnant and then forget about it. I'm also hoping to update my other writing pertaining to Dispatch, so if you're a fan of that, be on the lookout!

Summary: It’s nearing the end of your first week in District Four and you’re nowhere near solving your situation as Finnick is with figuring out why you’re here.

A/N part one: Small little time jump to give us some space to work with in the storyline :) Hope you enjoy!

part three

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It’s been one week.

One week since you found yourself immersed in a world you only ever dreamed of visiting.

One week of trying to craft a believable story for those questioning a newcomer in District 4.

One week of getting to know some of your favorite characters, still not entirely comprehending that they do in fact exist and you are indeed not imagining them.

Mags has been nothing but kind to you since finding you alone on the beach in only your pajamas and without any type of identification or belongings on your person. She’s been allowing you to stay at her house in Victor’s Village and thankfully hasn’t mentioned kicking you to the curb anytime soon.

Not like I’m planning on rushing that possibility, you think as you finish up in the bathroom for the morning. You chance a glance at yourself in the mirror and give yourself a reassuring smile. Your hands grip the edges of the sink basin as you mentally prepare yourself before breakfast.

“Okay, you can do this. It’s already been one week and you’ve managed to make it this far without coming across as a crazy person. Well, maybe not to Finnick but that’s beside the point…” You trail off as your mind drifts to your most recent interaction with the bronze haired man.

Finnick has been… interesting, to say the least, since he met you a week ago. He’s popped up at the most random moments and continues to be hot/cold with you, not entirely sure if he can trust you even though Mags continued to offer unwavering support for your presence.

He also continues to call you “gorgeous” which you are completely baffled by, but you’ve given up asking him to stop after the first few times fell on deaf ears.

Shaking yourself out of your small stupor, you open the bathroom door and trail down the hallway towards the kitchen where Mags is currently sitting at the table sipping on her morning tea. She gives you her signature smile and motions to the countertop where a cup waits for you as well as some fresh fruit from Finnick’s most recent visit.

You’ve discovered that Finnick often stops by at least once every other day. It seems like he normally would stay for an extended period of time to touch base with Mags, but since your arrival he’s seemed a little hesitant to stay since that first night.

- the first night -

“Well well, what do we have here? Need something, gorgeous?”

You flinch at his words, taking a small step back at the look on his face. Something flashes across Finnick’s face at your reaction, but it’s gone just as quick as it appeared.

Mags slides around Finnick’s body, planting herself in between you and him. Finnick quickly switches his focus to the older woman, obviously not happy with her current position. A silent conversation happens between them and after a few moments, Finnick’s shoulders slump and he lets out a small sigh.

Interesting, you think. So quick to jump me, but backs down at the slightest hint of disagreement from Mags.

He spares you one last glance before telling Mags that he’ll stop by in a day or two, bidding you a quick “goodnight gorgeous”. Mags turns after the door shuts and motions towards the kitchen.

Follow me.

You both take a seat at the table and Mags grabs a nearby notepad and pen, quickly scribbling down a few words. She slides the pad towards you.

Tomorrow we’ll go get you some clothes and we’ll go from there.

You look up and give Mags a grateful smile, your body slowly releasing the tension you hadn’t realized you’d been holding since Finnick walked in earlier this evening. You’re hesitant to ask, but you feel you need to clear the air a bit after that awkward interaction with Finnick.

“Mags, can I ask you a question?”

Mags just sits and waits. You look down at your hands, picking at your nails as you try to verbalize your thoughts.

“Is there a reason Finnick doesn’t want me here? I know I’m practically a stranger and haven’t known you for more than a few hours, but it seems like he has a bigger issue with me past the whole ‘stranger danger’ standard.” Mags lets out a small huff of air at your words, shaking her head before reaching for the notepad once more.

You watch her take a moment before writing down her response. She slides it back to you shortly after.

It’s not you, dear. Finnick just… struggles to trust people, especially people who aren’t from Four. Don’t take it personally.

You glance up after that, seeing a sympathetic look in Mags’ eyes. She reaches for one of your hands, giving it a short squeeze before motioning towards the hallway. You understood that to mean “time for bed” and quickly move towards the room that she led you to earlier in the evening.

- present day -

After that night, Mags followed through on bringing you into town the next day where you finally got to experience District Four in its entirety.

Holy shit this is crazy!!! You think as you pass by the docks and head towards the storefronts that litter the streets leading from the water. People pass by with curiosity in their eyes, seemingly taken aback by the presence of a newcomer with the infamous Mags Flanagan. Normally, they’d see her accompanied by the golden boy, Finnick Odair, but he’s nowhere to be found and instead here you are.

You find yourself subconsciously tugging on your clothes as if it could hide you from their gazes. You’ve never been one for being the center of attention, but you’ve somehow garnered it over the years due to your size.

Being plus-sized was nothing new to you. But, to others, it sometimes seemed like an unfathomable concept to them and it often led to a large number of stares and comments over the years.

Hence, you’ve grown used to trying to cover yourself up more or shrink yourself down to take up less space/attention.

Mags glances at you out of the corner of her eye at your fidgeting, only reaching out a hand to point at one of the stores up ahead. We’ll stop in there.

It’s a quaint shop near the middle of the street, with white paint on the outside and blue shutters on the windows. There is an assortment of flowers growing out of the numerous pots that line the small sidewalk below both windows, giving it a softer look compared to some of the other buildings you passed on the way.

Your stomach is in knots at the prospect of shopping for clothes, knowing already that there’s going to be little to no options in your actual size, let alone any clothing that might be somewhat stylish for plus-sized women. Better accept disappointment now, you bitterly think as the bell jingles, announcing your entrance to the shopkeeper.

However, you’re pleasantly surprised to see a woman not that much older than yourself behind the counter. She makes to move out from behind to give Mags a hug and you’re shocked to see that she’s plus-sized.

Your shock must’ve been clear on your face as Mags gives your cheek a little pat while silently chuckling. The shopkeeper doesn’t bat an eye and greets you with a kind smile, “Well, it’s been a long while since I’ve seen a new face in Four! What brings you ladies in today?”

Mags motions to you and you flush a bit in embarrassment at the fact that you’re still in your pajamas from the night before. At least they’re passable as regular clothes, you think, I could’ve been wearing my boxer shorts, so thank god I chose differently the other night.

The shopkeeper, who you learn is named Deena, shows you around and tells you to let her know if you need help finding anything in particular or if you have any items that need to be hemmed or adjusted. You browse freely while Deena and Mags talk at the counter and ultimately find a few items that can tide you over for the time being.

When Mags pulls out some money, you almost turn down her offer but remember that you arrived in the district without any type of money on you, so there’s no way for you to cover the cost. So, you bite your tongue and resolve to find some way to pay Mags back for her unending kindness. You both leave the shop and wish Deena a good day, with her telling you “don’t be a stranger now!”

Arriving back at Mags’ place, you go to put away your clothes and find yourself standing in front of the mirror once more in the bathroom, staring at your body with a lost look in your eyes. You’ve swapped your pajamas for a new pair of denim shorts and a loose knit, lightweight sweater.

You still cannot believe you were able to find some clothes that fit. Somehow, you’re not having to squeeze your stomach and thighs into uncomfortably tight shorts or have to worry about having to stretch out your shirt in order for it to not fit like a second skin, clinging to ever divot and roll on your upper-body.

You don’t even register the knock to your bedroom door until you hear the faint turn of the doorknob.

You quickly move away from your spot, moving to stand in the doorway but stop in your tracks when you see who has come into your room.

“Hey gorgeous. Mags wanted me to come grab you for lunch.”

Finnick leans against the doorframe, hands in the pockets of his cotton shorts. His hair is slightly damp and even from this distance, you can smell the ever-present sea salt that seems to cling to his being. He just looks so effortlessly put together that it makes you a bit envious. His face houses his usual smirk and he takes a moment to look over your figure. He lets out a low whistle.

“Those new?” You fidget with the hem of your shirt, not expecting him to comment on your appearance. You give a short nod before moving towards the doorway, stopping when Finnick makes no move to exit.

He remains standing in front of you and you’re unsure of what the issue is now. Is he upset that Mags bought you some clothes? Is he bothered that you’re still staying here with Mags? Or does he think a girl like you shouldn’t be wearing something like this — something slightly revealing?

You feel a little fed up, already with your previous emotions in the bathroom at your appearance and now with Finnick being weird once again, you let some of your frustrations out.

“Listen, I don’t know what the hell your problem is with me when you haven’t even known me for a week. Yes, these are new and whether or not you think someone my size should be wearing shorts is something you can keep to your goddamn self, Odair. Now, if you’re done inspecting my appearance, move out of the way.”

You don’t even wait to hear a response nor to see his face as you push past Finnick to head to the kitchen. You immediately find a seat at the table and see an assortment of fruit once again along with some supplies to make sandwiches laid out.

Mags is at the counter mixing some iced tea and sends you a small smile before glancing at the doorway. You don’t even spare Finnick a glance as he walks in, sitting in the seat directly across from you. You keep your head down as you dish up, Mags giving you both a brief look of confusion while she brings over the iced tea. She locks eyes with Finnick, noticing that his demeanor is a bit off compared to when he first arrived at her house today.

Lunch goes by in a quiet manner, the only sound coming from everyone eating and Finnick making brief comments to Mags about random things happening in the district. You’ve only looked up a couple of times, once when Mags reached over to get your attention about something and another accidentally when you and Finnick both were reaching for the pitcher of iced tea.

When your eyes connected with Finnick’s, you couldn’t discern what his eyes were trying to convey to you. After everyone finished eating, Mags and Finnick started to clear the table. He seemed like he wanted to talk to you about what happened before lunch, but you made an excuse that you were tired and that you were going to take a nap.

As you were walking down the hallway, you briefly heard Finnick let out a sigh and say, “Mags, how long is she going to be staying here?” You quickly walked away, not wanting to be caught eavesdropping again. You also weren’t really wanting to hear Finnick complain to Mags once again about you being there.

You climb into bed, feeling a bubble of tears build up behind your eyes. You curse yourself as a few tears escape, angrily wiping them off your cheeks. No, I’m not going to cry over some guy not liking me. I haven’t even been here long enough for him to get to know me, not like he seems to be interested in doing that. It’s useless to think he’d want that.

You sniffle to yourself as your emotions from the past week crash over you. Being in a foreign place with nothing of familiarity around you, no way of knowing if you’re permanently stuck here, and being surrounded by strangers along with the usual feelings of insecurity and self-doubt is the perfect culmination of factors for a breakdown.

Well, you sourly think, it’s been a while since I’ve had one of these so might as well let it happen. So, you allowed yourself this time to break down and eventually fell asleep, your thoughts drifting to a certain bronze haired victor…

A/N part two: apologies if these seemed so scattered and not well-strung together. I felt inclined to update, but the timeline of the story might’ve slipped my mind a bit at certain parts (I’m getting antsy for the slow burn with Finnick lol). I’ll probably do another big time jump in the next installment, just to get some more space for my storyline to grow in. Appreciate all of you and please leave your thoughts below 💗