WHAT MEETS THE EYE
finnick odair x reader
part I of pure heroin.
synopsis. ꩜ on your way to the capitol, you run into the capitol’s so called prince and he's not who you think he is. he's worse.
author's note. ∿ chapter 1 of pure heroin!! decided i needed to start writing again and what better way than with finnick!! drug themes/use will get more prevalent throughout the series; if that makes you uncomfortable I suggest you don't read it. angst!
word count. ⨾ 1.5k
Only in such a vain society could the word for a person you have yet to meet be a “stranger.” Their label in your mind plants their roots in the word “strange” with a remote emotional predisposition towards rejection. But you lived in this society and everyone you had met, had their strange; strangers or not.
You weren’t fond of meeting people but you had to pretend to be. Just like you pretended to be a lot of things. You pretend to be a persona, the one Caesar had given you since you first hunger games interview. Beloved, bewitching, tantalizing, tempting, and almost precarious. Those were the words that any citizen of the nation would use to describe you—not solely exclusive to the capital. Those were the words you'd been deemed the moment you'd won the 70th hunger games.
You pretended to be a lover, adored since they'd announced your victory, lusted after since you stepped foot out of the arena. You woke up in different bed every so often, desired by many but loved by few. You were merely a trophy wife for the capitol to show off time and time again.
You pretended to be happy.
You had to be all of these things because who were you if you weren’t? You’d be dead, one way or another.
But pretend isn’t reality. There were moments when you had decide what was and wasn’t—when to be their darling and when you could turn it off like a switch and the facade of sincerity would fade away like sea foam on a shoreline.
The facade crumbled the moment you settled on the train heading for the capitol. The peace and quiet gave you more than a few moments to yourself, allowing you revel in reality. You could do what you wanted for a few hours without eyes watching in judgement. But mostly you thought about the dread that consumed you, the dread whose culprit was no other than the capitol.
You made trips to the capitol more than often and more than you wanted to. You had to make appearances—you had to pretend.
The dread that filled your travel was interrupted once the train arrived and you quickly gathered your belongings. Late to a meeting with you stylist, you were haphazard in getting yourself together. So haphazard in fact, you’d almost left your watch behind. Almost. You went back to grab it before leaving the train car. People complimented the object like they seemed to know whose it was, the stories it held. It was like a glimpse into you life; a piece of reality.
It rested in your hand along with the handle of your bags along with a few other items, having no time to put it back on you wrist while rushing out of the train car.
Once you made your exit, you were met with a sea of people you were sure you could drown in. You caught the eyes of most no doubt, you were one of their many beloved victors—it was inevitable.
Making your way through the station, a woman and her daughter approached you, asking you to sign her notebook. Her mother stood by, easing her excitement as she watched you interact.
"Sure," you said accepting the book and pen, smiling as you did so; the facade was back once again.
"I want to be like you when you grow up!" The girl exclaimed. Your stomach dropped. You laughed. You played pretend.
"Why's that?" You asked handing the book to her.
"You're so pretty and cool, I wanna win the games like you did."
No she didn't. You thought.
If only she knew the truth. But she didn't. She knew you for what the capitol made you to be, ever since your very first interview with Caesar Flickerman. He provided you with the impression, the character, the place you'd be stuck in for the rest of your existence. You charmed him, and to your demise you'd from then on be known as district one’s Belladonna; beautiful, but he believed you to be just as deadly. And your victory only confirmed that.
If only she knew you fought tooth and nail to survive. That you've killed. That you can escape the arena but never the games. That there are no winners, only survivors.
You looked in her eyes, making sure she understood your sentiment. "Good luck." Your words were genuine.
You greeted them goodbye, checking the time and you were running even later than before. You picked up your pace, strides getting longer—only to be cut short. You ran into somebody, the strong figure knocking your belongings out of your hand. Your bags dropped and your watch flew to the ground, immediately stepped on by the foot of a passerby. Abandoning your bags you picked it up and the glass was cracked, but it was still working. Barely.
You were already upset, now you were sure your blood was boiling. Tapped on the shoulder, you were met with the man you had run into and he was handing your bags back to you. He was Finnick Odair.
Finnick Odair was the nation's golden boy, the capitol's prince so to speak. He was wholly and utterly charming; you hated it. His reputation spoke for itself: numerous lovers, a flirty personality paired with power and skill, and that movie star smile. Repulsive. But he was like you. A victor with an image to maintain, however, you didn't know him. You didn't know what parts of him were real and what were a part of a made up fantasy.
And right now you didn't have time to dwell on it. Right now your watch was broken, you were still late to your meeting, and Finnick decided to make it all the more worse telling you to, Watch where you're going, sweetheart. With those renowned white teeth and famed dimples.
"You should take your own advice," You retorted, not missing a beat and taking your bags back from his hands.
“Don’t deflect this to me now, i’m just the messenger,” He smirked, holding his hands up as if he’d been caught red handed.
“I’m not deflecting, I’m telling you the truth since it’s something I know you don’t hear that often.”
He feigned hurt, clutching at his chest as if you stabbed him in the heart.
“You really live up to the title, Belladonna. Keep going and my ego will be dead in minutes.”
You scoffed. “I think you need more than a hurt ego.”
He cocked his head, playing along. “Like what?” He asked.
“A reality check.”
“Oh, honey, what’s got you riled up?” His tone is phony you can hear it in his voice, it's almost condescending. Patronizing. You could try and make it to your meeting sure, but taking the golden boy down a peg seems much more enticing.
“You made me drop my watch. Now, thanks to you, it’s one crack away from broken.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I didn’t make you do anything, honey. You ran into me.”
“Call it what you want. You were in my way, it's your fault.”
“And it’s just a watch.” He’s not teasing now, not even a hint of charm left in his demeanor. Not any that meets the eye. You choose the second option.
“Of course you’d think that, I mean, what would you know anyway?” You see a flash of affliction in his expression before it was gone in a heartbeat, lost completely.
“All beauty, no brains. It must be so hard being nothing more than pretty face. Someone to spend the night with.” You laugh pleased with yourself. You words cut deep and you know it because you’d practically been told the same thing, it was ad nauseam.
You could tell he wanted to say something, whether to express his hurt or defend himself, he held back and bit his tongue.
You quirked your head to the side, your pride taking over. “What is you head hallow?”
You laughed once again to yourself, happy with your accomplishment. You feet start to move from under you but Finnick grabs your arm before you can get much farther.
You turn around and he pulls you towards him, his lips at your ear.
“I’m going to whisper this since there’s camera’s all around us and I want to save you the humiliation. It’s going to look flirty, intriguing even, but I hope you know it’s anything but,” He told you.
“You and I, we’re the same. But right now I have something you don’t. Humility. You’re upset and you can go for blood because I broke your stupid watch, sure, but I could eat you alive. I know things you don’t. Secrets. So I’d be careful about what you say.”
You pulled away from his ear so that your faces were merely inches apart.
“I guess you act entitled enough to be a prince if that’s what the capitol calls you,” You remarked looking in his green eyes. It was a shame they were so beautiful.
“But empty threats don’t look good on you,” You muttered and you swore you saw his eyes flicker to your lips. And so with your last attempt to stick it to him, give Finnick a taste of his own medicine: you winked. He smirked with contempt or sincerity; you couldn’t tell.
“Have a nice day.”
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