Mere

-.-

When Bucky told you that Sam invited you over for a weekend trip in Louisiana, you were excited. Shortly after arriving, that feeling dissipated. You knew that Bucky loved to get under Sam’s skin, but you didn’t know he would take it so far.

Across the lawn, your boyfriend had a charming, mischievous smirk on his face as he approached Sarah. She rolled her eyes, but her body gravitated towards him. He kept looking at Sam's irritated face from their flirty exchange. Meanwhile, you stood discarded on the porch, unable to do anything but watch.

AJ tugged on your hand. “Do you wanna play video games with us?” Behind him was his older brother, Cass. They could tell you needed an escape.

“I would love to!” Your once-sullen look was replaced by a cheerful smile as you followed the boys upstairs.

You had forgotten all about that jealous pit in the stomach by the time dinner rolled around, but that carefree feeling could only last so long.

“Boys, can you set the table, please?” Sarah asked over her shoulder, but it was more like an order.

Bucky got up from the couch without a second thought. “I got it.” He winked at Sam, who leaned on the counter behind Sarah.

With ease, he grabbed plates from the top shelf of the cupboard. Every seat he set was given more attention than you’d gotten all day. You couldn’t believe you were jealous of plates and silverware.

Throughout the meal, Bucky would relentlessly compliment Sarah’s cooking, and although you agreed that the food was good, it still upset you. There was a flirty undertone to his comments that irritated both you and Sam, but Bucky didn’t notice yours since he was solely focused on Sam’s reactions.

As the evening wore on, you thought that Bucky would finally be satisfied by Sam’s misery, but it was never enough. His comments got bolder; even though you knew he was just joking, they all sounded too real. 

Eventually, you decided to ignore Bucky since he was doing the same to you. The purpose of it was to give him a taste of his own bitter medicine, but he didn’t notice. He was so enthralled by his little game that eventually you just left.

The porch stairs were weirdly comforting. The ambiance created by the cicadas and grasshoppers almost made you forget why you were outside in the first place. You still couldn't wrap your head around why Bucky would do such a thing to you. Last week, he was waking you up with breakfast in bed and showering you with compliments. Now, he doesn’t care where you are or that he’s embarrassing you in front of a bunch of people you didn't even know 3 days ago.

The front door creaks open, snapping you out of your spiraling thoughts.

“The futon is set up.” Sam looks behind him before ultimately deciding to shut the door and takes a seat next to you. “I’m sorry.”

“What?” You furrow your eyebrows at him. “Why?” 

“You don’t deserve the way Bucky is treating you.” You look over to see his eyes full of sincerity. “The rise he’s getting out of me isn’t just because he’s flirting with Sarah.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “What else is it?”

“I think it’s embarrassing that he’s flirting with another woman when his girlfriend is right next to him. It’s embarrassing not just for you, but especially for him.” The sound of footsteps coming closer from inside ends the moment.

“The boys are asleep; I’m heading up to bed too. Y/N, do you need anything else?” Sarah asks from inside the screen door.

Your head turns at the sound of your name: “No, I’m alright. Thank you.”

She nods, “Goodnight.”

You and Sam both repeat it back as she walks away.

“I should be going to bed,” Sam grunts as he stands up as if he were an old man, which he kinda is.

“Goodnight.” You watch as he walks towards the door, but before he can disappear, you continue, “Thank you for noticing; it feels like nobody has in the past few hours.”

“Of course.” He says quietly before finally heading to bed. You truly did appreciate Sam’s words. It was nice you weren’t completely invisible, but it still was slightly embarrassing to have someone notice the douche your boyfriend had been.

“You got this.” You pump yourself up, taking three deep breaths to compose yourself to face Bucky.

Inside, Bucky lay in the middle of the bed, like he did every night. It wasn’t him taking up space, but he lets you choose which side you want to snuggle him on each night. Unfortunately for him, you wanted nothing to do with that tonight.

“Pick a side, James.” You tell him sternly while you dig through your suitcase for pajamas to wear.

Bucky’s face screwed up at your “unreasonable” annoyance with him. “What did I do?” He asked with genuine curiosity.

“You can’t be serious.” You mumbled, walking into the bathroom to put on your sleep set.

Bucky stumbled off the futon to follow you. “I am serious; I don’t know what I did to deserve this attitude right now.”

“I know you're 106, so your memory might be a little wonky these days. But do you seriously not remember anything that happened today?” Your voice is drenched in tension and hurt.

Bucky looked to the side while he thought; he didn’t want to be distracted by your half-naked body as you got changed. His mind replayed the day. It started with the early morning drive into the late afternoon, to sharing a beer with Sam and Sarah, to dinner, to you disappearing while he chatted with Sarah on the couch. Eventually it clicked.

“You’re jealous of Sarah?” He asks with an amused tone. Bucky was secretly a little excited at the thought that you could be so easily riled up by a few flirty remarks.

“No.” You pushed past him to throw your day clothes into the dirty laundry bag you brought.

Again, Bucky followed you like a lost puppy. "Really? ‘Cause you seem pretty jealous right now.”

“I’m not jealous, James. I’m irritated and embarrassed by the way you acted today.” You tell him earnestly, turning to face him for the first time during your conversation.

He immediately felt bad; he didn’t realize that his little game of annoying Sam was affecting you more than it did his friend, “I’m sorry I was such a stupid jerk today.”

You couldn’t help the way the corner of your mouth lifted at his word choice. You hated the effect he had on you. Even when he was being an asshole, he was still your favorite person.

“I swear I’m gonna make it up to you. Just don’t make me sleep outside.” He pleaded, getting down on his knees and holding onto your hand.

“You’re ridiculous; just change your act tomorrow.” You pull away from his grip and hop onto the left side of the futon. You patted the spot next to you twice, signaling to Bucky that he was welcome for your nightly cuddle session.

-.-

Editor’s Note: James Buchanan Barnes is getting beat for this behavior btw

-.-

Everything in your body ached as you opened the door to your hotel room. It was early morning by the time you were finished with your first client—if you could even call it that.

When you won the 69th Hunger Games at 18, you truly believed that the Capitol’s cruel treatment, torture, and starvation would end—at least for you and your family. That belief was far from the truth. 

Ignoring the pain that shot through your body with each step, you made your way through the suite with the goal to go to bed. Your feet felt like there were heavy weights tied to them and all you wanted to do was sleep off the feeling of disgust that you were drowning in. 

As you passed the living room of your temporary resident for the events of the 70th Hunger Games, you met with a disheveled figure of someone you didn’t want to see you this way. 

Finnick Odair. The man who had been your best friend for the past year. You met during your victory tour and clicked instantly. You started sticking around him during parties for the escape he was.  Something about his charming smile and goofy comments made it so whenever you two spoke, all the evil in the world disappeared for a few minutes. When you left to go back home, you thought that this was just going to stay a memory, but it didn’t. 

You returned to the capital for the 70th Hunger Games victory tour a year later, at the order of President Snow. During the first party, you caught Finnick’s eye from across the room. You thought that he was going to ignore you; instead, he crossed the large space and engulfed you in a comforting hug.

Finnick called your name softly. “Are you okay?” He asked, his worried eyes scanning your disheveled figure. 

Makeup was smeared all over your face, your dress was only half zipped up the back, and one of your spaghetti straps was hanging off the shoulder. Your right hand clutched your heels, and your left arm had a giant scratch up the side.

“Oh, I’m feeling fabulous right now.” You respond sarcastically, tears welling in your eyes.

Finnick stood with the intention of walking over to comfort you, but you flinched as he did. He froze, trying to figure out what to do next.

“I think I’m just gonna head to bed.” You jut your head in the direction of your room. If it were any other night, you would be questioning why he’s in your hotel room or how he even got in. Right now, you needed to escape his burning gaze.

“Wait.” He called as you stumbled into your room and shut the door, turning the lock without a second thought.

Once inside, you toss your heels into the corner and collapse on top of your covers. As tears flow down the side of your face, your mind tries to figure out what you did in life to deserve what's happening to you–trying to solve how to both save your family and stop being capital property at the same time, but you knew it was impossible. I guess I’ll just be the Capitol’s plaything for the rest of my life, you thought as your body sunk further into the mattress and your eyes became heavier.

Just when you start to drift off completely, a gentle knock bounces off your bedroom door. 

“Y/N, let me take care of you.” Finnick pleaded, but you couldn’t bring yourself to respond as tears started falling faster down your face.

At your lack of response, he doesn’t push too much. “I’ll be at the door when you’re ready. I’ll wait until morning if that's what you need.”

Deep in you was a voice yelling at you to open the door, saying that it would help the situation. You just couldn’t. You were both physically and mentally drained, your body and mind feeling too heavy to move. Sleep was quickly overtaking you, and there was a faint warmth in your chest knowing Finnick was close by.

-.-

The next morning, you feel slightly better. There is still a dark cloud above your head, knowing that today you have two more clients, but at least for now you can just be taken care of.

Finnick ran an expensive loofa up and down your back as you quietly sat in the soapy water. You didn’t really care that he saw you naked; half of the capital would by the time you're 25 anyway. 

Once Finnick is done, he leans you back into the water briefly to rinse off the soap. A minute later, he stands at the side of the tub with a fluffy open towel. His eyes are glued to the wall on his right to give you privacy as you step out.

He wraps the towel around your shoulders and allows you to pat yourself dry as he goes into your closet to find you something comfortable to lounge in for the few hours before the next Gala. 

“If I were the most beautiful girl in the world, what would I wear?” He asks himself out loud while sifting through your pajamas.

A smile creeps onto your face as you overhear him. You quickly try to hide it when you hear him coming back.

“I did my best.” Finnick walks in and places the pile of pink satin fabric on the counter.

“Thank you.” You shuffle to give him a side hug, your other hand still clutching the towel wrapped around you.

He reciprocated by placing an arm around your shoulders. “Of course.” He leaned down to give you a kiss on the top of your head.

Finnick leaves the room soon after to go make you food while you get dressed. You couldn’t help but flush at the tenderness and care he’s shown you. It honestly makes you feel stupid for having him sleep in the hallway last night, but the time to yourself was equally as beneficial as this morning has been.

“I’m not a chef, but I tried my best.” He places a plate of toast and fruit next to a glass of water on the table when you walk in.

“It’s perfect.” You tell him with sincerity, taking a seat.

Finnick places his food down too and takes the seat across from you.

The breakfast is quiet, a comforting silence that was welcomed by the two of you. It gave you time to process the past week. From Snow telling you that you must obey or have your family jeopardized, to the eccentric party that led to the worst three hours of your life. 

Before you could think deeper into it, Finnick nudged your foot, “Give your lip a break, pretty girl.” 

You hadn’t even noticed that you had been gnawing at it for the past few minutes as you were deep in thought. Now, you are incredibly mindful of the action. You were actively trying not to fidget in your seat.

“Do you want to talk about it?” His voice is cautious.

You shook your head, looking down at your hands that rested in your lap. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“I think I would.” He responds, slightly defensive of his ability.

Still, you didn’t budge.

“Snow makes me do it too.” His words make your eyes snap to his, yet he was looking to the side, trying to avoid any risk of you making eye contact.

“What? What does he make you do?” You ask, unsure if you both were talking about the same thing.

“Sell my body to Capitol officials,” Finnick answers quietly, almost believing that he interpreted the situation wrong. “I understand more than you think.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” You reach a hand across the table for him to take. 

He quickly accepts the gesture, “It’s okay.” He takes a deep breath before continuing, “This isn’t about me, though; I just want to take care of you.”

Your heart shattered in a million pieces. Despite him going through the same dreadful walk of life, his only goal was to make sure you had a shoulder to lean on because he never did.

The next couple of hours were spent on the couch, switching between trash TV and talking about how difficult it was to deal with what you were both going through. You wished you could just spend your life on that couch with him, but unfortunately, you had responsibilities that were impossible to get rid of.

“Finnick,” you catch his hand before he heads back to his room to get ready for the Gala tonight, “Thank you for everything.”

“Of course,” Finnick encompasses you in a hug, “You deserve the world and more, pretty girl.”

-.-

-.-

“You were serious?” Your roommate, Cara, stands shocked in the doorway. “This is a new low for you.”

Earlier that morning, you texted her that you had a date with a guy off Tinder. She sent back a voice note laughing hysterically and asked where you were meeting to study later.

“Thanks for being supportive,” you mumble, applying finishing touches to your makeup.

Cara rolled her eyes as she walked to her desk that was tucked in the corner. “I am supportive,” she insisted before quietly adding, “Just not for a Tinder guy.”

“Oh come on! It's just one date, not the end of the world.” You giggle at her disdain.

“Whatever,” she grumbles, “Just don’t bring him back to the dorm.”

The phone in your pocket buzzes, illuminating with a new message from a contact named “Tinder Guy.”

“I gotta go; see you later!” You run out of the dorm, ignoring Cara’s complaints about the pile of brushes you left on the floor.

Directly in front of the building was an old Subaru, Tinder guy leaning against the door in a grey T-shirt and blue jeans. His hair was brown and wavy, he had lean muscles visible in the tight sleeves of the shirt.

A grin graces his features, “You’re more beautiful in person.”

“Thank you, Patrick.” You say as a genuine smile creeps its way onto your lips.

“Who’s Patrick?” He asks with a mischievous glint in his eyes you immediately clocked.

You roll your eyes in annoyance but can’t stop the amused laugh that escapes you, “You’re so not funny.” 

“I’m not funny but who's the one laughing right now?” He asks, opening the passenger door for you.

In that moment, you knew he was gonna be trouble, but at least he knows how to make you laugh.

“So, where are you taking me?” You ask once you’re both settled in the car.

Patrick thinks for a moment before pulling out his phone to look at the name once again, “Tony’s music and brews.” He reads the name as if he were presenting the next act in a talent show.

“Wow, très fancy, how romantic.” You mock his choice, but it made sense; it was just a Tinder date after all—you’d been to worse places. One time, a guy took you to Taco Bell and made you pay after he ordered 3 meals all for himself.

“Even I surprise myself sometimes,” He jokes, pulling onto the campus’s main street.

The whole drive was filled with sarcastic quips and the occasional laugh when one of you broke character, it was as if you skipped the awkward part of a first date.

“After you, m’lady,” Patrick dramatically bows as he opens the door.

You flap a fake fan to “cool” your face as you pass by with pristine, “Thank you, kind gentlemen.”

Patrick takes the initiative once you’re inside; he greets one of the blonde food runners like they’d been friends for years before sincerely asking him for a favor. The mysterious young man nods before handing Patrick a twenty and cleaning a private table off in the corner. Before you know it, Patrick is at your side again.

“Is he a friend of yours?” You ask with curiosity about who that handsome man was and simultaneously try to learn more about Patrick.

He nods absentmindedly, “Yeah, I’ve known him for years. We play tennis together sometimes.”

“Oh really? What school?”

“Well I travel professionally, he goes to Stanford”

You groan, realizing you’d been taken into enemy territory, “Of course he does.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” His voice dripped of amusement.

“Oh don’t act dumb,” you swat lightly at his chest before following him to the freshly cleaned table in the corner. You look around to make sure no one’s nearby to hear you whisper-yell at him, “You just picked me up from Berkley.”

“A man can’t just ignore the rivalry? It’s not even relevant to us.” He feigns innocence.

You should’ve known something was fishy when he drove 30 minutes in the direction of that dreaded school just for a cheap date. He probably has a discount because of his friend, you thought while rolling your eyes for the millionth time tonight.

“So what do you go to school for?” Patrick asks, attempting to push the center of attention onto you.

“Undeclared.”

Before he could ask you another question, he was being called over by a group of frat guys walking up to your table.

“Yo, big P!” One of the taller ones leaned in for a dap up. 

Patrick nervously looks to you, but he finds nothing but bored eyes looking back up at him. He pulls one of them closer and whispers a not-so-quiet, “Can’t you guys see I’m busy here?”

A ginger stepped forward, his words slurring as he spoke, “Oh, don’t act like you're high above us. We know you just wanna get into her pants. She knows it too; she doesn’t look stupid enough to be falling for your old tricks.”

“Wow. Thanks.” He deadpans, pushing the group of boys away.

Patrick takes a deep breath prior to turning back to you, “Do you maybe wanna get out of here?”

“So you can get into my pants?” You ask in a serious tone, but shortly after, you let a little smirk peek through.

Instead of letting the embarrassment consume him, he plays into their crude comments. “Obviously.” His face mirrors your gleeful one as he takes the lead in exiting the bar.

Little did he know, he was actually going to be successful in doing it. It was his original plan, after all; you matching his sarcasm and dry humor was what made him actually try to woo you. That’s why Art slipped him a twenty; Patrick needed money to pay for your drinks tonight instead of making the classic “let's just pay for ourselves” deal.

Now don’t go acting like you're all high and mighty in this situation; you went on Tinder for a quick lay too. You just didn’t expect yourself to be successful like Pat did.

-.-

-.-

Ever since the panic attack in your hospital room, you and Finnick have been damn near inseparable. He spent the days of your recovery by your side and when you got out, he offered you the extra bed in his room, which you happily accepted. It was better than having to share a room with your father and it would be nice to have an anchor just in case something triggered your past to resurface.

That was over three months ago. Since then, you have developed a steady routine. The doctors said it would help mitigate emotional distress caused by your recent trauma. 

The day would start with waking up tangled in the small, military grade bed you started to share a month into you moving in. The weight from Finnick’s steady arms around you helped with the nightmares. Then both of you would go to your duties, and end the day right where it had started, in each other's embrace.

You and Finnick were not official yet. It was clear you both had feelings for each other and agreed to go slow; however, that didn’t stop everyone in district 13 constantly pushing you two together.

“I’ll see you during breakfast,” You sneak a small kiss on his cheek before heading down to the kitchens.

Unfortunately, Finnick didn’t show up during breakfast. He didn’t show up for lunch either. This had become a trend over the past two weeks, and whenever you asked where he was, he responded with a curt, “I had a meeting.”

His short responses didn’t help with your growing anxiety around the topic. You weren’t worried he was seeing someone else, you were worried that he wasn’t telling you what was actually going on. Of course you knew that the revolution had been catching more traction lately, it was impossible to miss the signs as more planes were loaded and the weaponry employees were working around the clock. You simply wanted to know if he was okay, if they were training him too hard, or just any part of his day, but he was a closed door. And it seemed like you lost the key.

It had been weeks of the same blunt responses, you had to find out something, like who was in the meetings or if he was actually “doing fine.” Sadly, you couldn’t leave your work station, but luckily, you knew someone who could.

Tova.

 She was a sweet old lady who escaped district 12. You both enjoyed an early start, meaning you showed up to your duty a half hour before everyone else. Her sanitary station was conveniently placed in the back of the kitchens, putting you both in a dead silent room with the occasional clashing of metal pans as you prepped for the other chefs.

The gray-haired woman made it clear she was not a fan of the awkward silence that would swallow you every morning. On day three she became a prominent part of your mornings. She would tell you about the starcrossed lovers before the games, you would tell her about the disgustingly lavish parties the capital officials would throw annually.

“Tova!” You whispered yelled her direction, discreetly catching her attention as the kitchen staff began cleaning.

The woman’s bun flopped as her head snapped in your direction, “Yes?”

You briefly checked to make sure no one was looking as you left the soaked towel on the counter to approach where Tova was sweeping, “Have you seen Finnick at all?”

Tova loved your relationship with that man. She even admitted to finding him quite cute when she watched the 75th hunger games only a few months prior. She waved off your shocked expression with a small, “I’m old, not blind.”

She looked up trying to recall her day before shaking in defeat, “No, sorry dear.”

“It’s alright.” 

Tova felt extremely bad, she could see how this was weighing on you. She too had noticed the influx of people walking in the structural wing of the base.

The older woman scrunched her eyebrows together, knowing she was going to regret her next words, “I can go look for him, if you would like.”

For the first time in hours you felt like something was finally going your way, “Really?”

“What exactly are you looking for?”

“I just need to know who’s in the meetings or if he’s doing alright.” You knew you were overstepping a little, it just felt impossible to live in the dark any longer.

Although Tova knew she could get in a little trouble leaving her assignment for a few hours, she’d never been one to deny relieving some of the tension you felt everyday. Afterall, you were still constantly on alert from your recent trauma. This attachment to Finnick was in response to that. He was familiar, safe, and understanding, anyone in your position would find it impossible to resist bonding to him.

“Hold my broom,” Tova dramatically hands over the cleaning device before marching off with a cleaning cart, a cover in case she gets caught, to the meeting room hallway.

In the meantime, you finished sweeping and wiping down the countertops. There were still a few hours until you had to prepare dinner so there wasn’t much to do while Tova was on her secret mission. You resorted to scrubbing the stovetops and arranging the seasonings alphabetically.

Your ears perked like a dog hearing its owner come home from work when you heard the clicking of Tova’s work boots. You could tell it was her and not another cleaner because her steps were softer and slower than others.

“Did you see him?” You ambush Tova at the door.

Her eyes go wide as a hand clutches her chest, “Give your dear friend a second.” 

Tova moves across the room to sit down on a stool near the cleaning closet, “I did see him, he walked over to chat with me between meetings.”

You rolled your eyes, of course he did.

“What did he say?” “That he knows you sent me and that he will definitely be at dinner.” She answers simply, hoping it would be enough to calm your nerves.

 You groan and slap your palm to your forehead, “Dammit he knows me too well.”

“But I’m sorry, sweetheart, I wasn’t able to catch who else was in the meeting room.” Tova stands up and brushes dirt off her uniform, about to head back to work.

“It’s alright.” I guess I’ll just wait until dinner, you thought. This time you were going to be a little more adamant with him.

-.-

After dishing dinner out, you finished your share of the cleaning as quickly as possible so you’d be able to have enough time to question Finnick on his odd behaviour. As you peered out into the dining hall, you were able to catch a glimpse of the blonde sitting at your usual spot.

In the reflection of a nearby stainless-steel pot you checked your hair before walking in his direction.

“I’ve missed you.” You whisper in his ear as you hug him from behind. He reciprocates the best he can by squeezing your hands that are folded over his chest.

“I bet I missed you more,” Finnick scoops up the last bit of food in his bowl as you maneuver into the seat next to him.

A blanket of silence surrounds you both, but not the comforting kind. It was stiff with tension, both waiting for the other person to make the first move.

Concern graces his gaze when he looks at you, “Where’s your dinner?”

“Ate it while I cleaned my station.” You answered, trying to end his attempt at avoiding the elephant in the room.

Finnick nodded slowly. 

As more time ticked by, your patience began to dwindle. The clinking of dishes from nearby residences had also been adding to the itchy feeling developing on your skin. You couldn’t take it anymore.

“So… why have you been so busy?” You ask, hoping the open-endedness motivated him to expand on whatever explanation he was about to give.

“I don’t know what you're talking about.” The blonde man inspects the table like it’s the most interesting thing in the world as he avoids your hard stare.

“Finnick.”

He sighs, finally giving in after two weeks,"We can’t talk about it here.”

“Why not?”

It’s clear Finnick is conflicted by the way his mouth opens several times without any words being spoken. He looks around the room before grabbing your forearm and dragging you towards the residential area.

You pry his hand off your arm but continue following him, “Seriously, what is going on?”

He opens the door into your room, allowing you to go in first. He may be in a rush and withholding information, but he’s still a gentleman.

Once inside, he sits on the rarely used bed and takes a deep breath, preparing to answer your questions, “I have to leave.” You feel your face screw in confusion and questions begin spilling out of your mouth, “What? Where? How long?”

“I’m leaving tomorrow to follow Katniss’s team to the capital. I don’t know how long I will be gone or if I’ll even come back here.” He takes three deep breaths as he awaits your unpredictable reaction.

“Okay.” You take a seat across from him, on the other bed, as you process his words. You wish you could be more shocked, but you couldn’t. Everyone in district 13 has heard about the escalating events with the capital and the new opportunities being created as other districts continue to revolt.

“It was only a matter of time I suppose.” You laugh dryly although there is no humor in this situation, “So, you're just gonna leave me behind?”

“It would be selfish if I didn’t” He simply replied.

“Wow.” You didn’t want to act irrational, but he was making it really difficult with the way Finnick threw out the word ‘selfish’ so easily. “So, I’m just gonna be a sitting duck while you go on some suicide mission?” “It’s not–” He cut himself off. Finnick knew that the survival rate was never high, especially when he’s going to infiltrate the capital with the mockingjay, who is their biggest target. “I’m trying to save Panem from corruption so everyone can stop living in fear and the Hunger Games stop.”

You nod at his words, knowing he was right in going. “Okay.”

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, leaning forward to grab your hand.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, I understand.” You squeezed his hand, “I just hope you come back to me safe.”

-.-

A/N: Yes. I was reading Remarkably Bright Creatures when I wrote this.

Masterlist

-.-

“Shh it’s okay,” It was a man you’d never seen before, but you weren’t scared.

Ignoring every instinct you’ve built over the past few weeks you walked towards him. He looked more scared of you than you were of him.

“Let’s get you home,” the brunette man tentatively lent out his hand.

You only thought for a moment before deciding to take it.

You jolted awake, a cold sweat running down your back. The room wasn’t the cold, stone cell that you had become accustomed to, it was sterile with machines lining the space. The wall across from you had a large window that let you see into the hallway. A blanket was draped over you and a pillow abandoned behind you, two things that were never allowed in your old chamber.

Next to you a familiar voice attempted to calm you down, “It’s alright, you’re in district 13.” His large hand began rubbing circles on your back but you quickly moved away from him.

“Please don’t,” you pleaded, terrified of what he might do.

A frown settled on Finnick’s lips as he backed away, “I’m sorry.”

You didn’t speak much after that, but he still stayed. Finnick was just happy you didn’t ask him to leave all together, he’d rather sit in the corner and stay quiet than be banished from seeing you. Especially since he finally got you back.

Later that evening, only a few hours after waking up, your father walked in. His clothes were ironed, a steady look on his face, and he walked like he had all the time in the world. Not at all how a man who just got his daughter back would be acting.

“Finnick,” Plutarch addressed the man slumped beside you, still staring at the same page he had been before you woke up. Finnick perked up slightly at the sound of his name, finally leaving the darkness that was his mind. “I would like time alone with my daughter, I suggest you go to the dining hall and catch dinner.”

He’s unsure at first, glancing between you and the door, but he knows it’s no use. Finnick nods and squeezes past Plutarch before disappearing into the hall.

Your father replaces where Finnick once sat beside you.

“Everyone was so worried about you.” He states, analyzing your heart monitor rather than looking at your shaken expression.

The silence in the room is deafening as you try to figure out if this was real or just a dream. He died. You watched him die.

This had to be another trick from the Capitol. Another simulation. Another test designed to break whatever parts of you were still intact, you thought.You had only been conscious for a couple of hours, there was nothing guaranteeing that you were actually in district 13 and not just a simulation that the trenchcoat man put you in.

Plutarch clearing his throat pulls you out of your trance, “Is everything alright?”

“You’re dead.” 

Your father is taken aback for a second but regains composure, “Pardon?” “You died. I watched you die.”

Plutarch was confused as he chose his words carefully, “Y/N, I’m not sure what they showed you, but I am alive and well. I’ve been in district 13 this whole time, if you saw me in the Capitol it wasn’t real.” His hand twitched, he was trying not to reach out for you.

“No,” You shook your head trying to get rid of the wave of emotions overcoming you. The monitor beside you beeped as your heart began to race, “Get out.” 

It wasn’t like you to be so demanding or emotional, Plutarch could see that whatever happened during your disappearance would change you for life. The old you was who really died in that building.

He left without another word, allowing you to process your overwhelming emotions alone.

-.-

The time by yourself was therapeutic. You appreciated Finnick’s presence, it was comforting, but you couldn’t help the fear that flooded your body every time he made the slightest movement.

A familiar figure passes by the door. One that you’ve seen in every dream since you left the capital. He was brunette with broad shoulders and dark eyes. Something about him and the fact that he saved you made you feel safe. 

Closing your eyes, you tried to remember his name. 

After walking at least a mile in the darkness of the sewers, the man started to lead you up a ladder which you presumed led to your destination.

“Ladies first,” He hooks his carbine on his shoulder so both of his hands are available in case you need assistance.

The metal creaked under your aching legs. Large hands encompassed your waist as you briefly lost your balance, “I got you.” He whispered and supported you until you were out of reach, his hands still out if you fell.

He was attentive and wasn’t afraid to show he cared, two things you also loved about Finnick. Finnick didn’t come to save you though. 

“Who are you?” you ask once you're clipped into your seat on the jet. You began feeling light headed from all the activity in the last hour, you knew you didn’t have much time before you fainted.

The man opened his mouth to answer.

“Gale!” 

His head snaps in your direction through the glass, a small smile appearing on his lips.

“I see you’re finally up, sleepy head.” He walks in and casually takes a seat on the edge of your bed. You don’t flinch when he puts a hand on your knee.

You roll your eyes at the nickname, “Guess I had a lot of sleep to catch up on.”

Gale laughs at your blatant response. He shifts more of his weight onto your bed, “How are you feeling?”

“Not great, but it’s better than being locked up.” You answer honestly, voice scratching painfully.

“Well aren’t you lucky you have me to save you.” He winked flirtatiously.

Heat crept onto your cheeks from the unexpected comment, “I guess I am.”

“Trust me, it wasn’t easy getting approval for that mission.” Gale grinned and leaned into your space.

Questions burned in your throat, you still didn’t have a clue what the condition was like before you arrived. The way Gale put it made it seem like he was the only one who cared where you were.

Before Gale is able to continue the conversation, Finnick walks in, “What is he doing here?” Finnick's eyes were glued to where Gale's side and hand were resting against your leg. He didn’t understand why you didn’t mind Gale’s touch but the second he made any move you would flinch. 

“Nothing, I was just about to leave actually.” The brunette pats your knee twice before standing up, “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

You nod in response, secretly looking forward to it.

After Gale leaves you’re quiet again, Finnick takes his place in the same, gray chair like earlier. The silence is thick with words unsaid.

-.-

Over the next few days Gale visits again and again, with Finnick in the room.

It pained Finnick to see you so comfortable with someone who you’d only known a few days, opposed to him, who you’d known for 7 years.

Gale made you laugh numerous times and made you feel normal. It was nice to talk to someone who wasn’t there from when you were a fake avox. When you talked to Finnick your words were measured, you were on high alert, and jumped back every time he moved. When you talked to Gale you blurted responses and leaned into him.

Finnick couldn’t take it anymore.

“Why him?” He whispered, almost inaudible, while you quietly read the newest report, it was your way of staying somewhat involved while recovering.

You look up mid-paragraph with furrowed brows, “What?”

Finnick took a deep breath, attempting to calm his racing thoughts, “Why are you comfortable with Gale, but not me?”

“If it weren’t for Gale, I would still be in the capital living a life of torture.” You answer with only half the truth, hoping he’ll drop it.

“Is that what he told you?”

It had been an assumption you made but Finnick defying it made you second guess your intuition. 

“You have no right to question me or Gale.” Ignoring the pain, you sit up straight to face him, “He came to save me while the man who I thought cared about me for the last 7 years prioritized his own safety. You didn’t even try to save me!”

Time stopped as you stared at each other, tears beginning to well in both your eyes. It felt like an eternity before he remembered to react.

“You think I didn’t try?” Finnick scoffed and shook his head in disbelief. He was furious, but instead of screaming insanities he fled, leaving you alone for the first time in weeks with no sign of coming back anytime soon. 

-.-

The next day he didn’t return, it was strange. Since the moment you woke up, the only time he would leave that gray chair was when he would get food or an extra blanket for you. Nervousness chilled your bones as you realized he truly wasn’t coming back and that he probably hated you.

You missed the quiet comfort that he provided and how he would pretend to read the same page for hours. He never overstepped your boundaries and took every crumb you would give him, you felt like such an ass accusing him. But, there was nothing you could do now. He was gone and it was your fault.

-.-

It had been a week since Finnick stormed out.

Gale’s bluntness, once comforting, had started to wear on you. He’d gotten too comfortable to the point where he made insensitive jokes, most not being labeled or perceived as one until he offhandedly said, “I was just joking.” Laughing with him felt like an obligation. It felt like you had to be kind and talk to him because he saved you, but doubts began invading your mind.

There was no way to avoid him, you were stuck on bedrest so if he came in, you had no choice but to listen. It didn’t take long before you memorized his footsteps so you could pretend to be asleep before he could see into the room. Still, it only worked 40% of the time, the man was relentless.

Even with Gale consistently checking in, you were given a lot of time to think. Unfortunately, the one thing you wanted to stop doing was thinking— about your father, the torture, the fight with Finnick, and the burden that Gale had become— it all clawed at your mind. You tried to suppress it but the dam was bound to break.

“Hey, sleepy head.” You were too busy reading your book to notice Gale approaching your room.

You tried your best to smile,  "Hi." Eyes staying steady on the book.

He wasn’t fazed as he hopped onto the edge of your bed and laid down across the foot of it, your feet scrunching to avoid his touch. “I’m surprised you’re still recovering. I’ve seen gunshot wounds heal faster than you.” He chuckled under his breath.

Gale loved to make little quips about your condition, it didn’t relieve any of the mental toll. He tried to be motivating but it only made you feel worse about what you went through. 

Finnick would never, you thought as you tried to contain your tears that always emerged whenever his name came up. Taking a deep breath you pushed the emotions down, I pushed him away, I have no right to miss him.

You flipped to the next page, hoping the book will be a good distraction and a hint to Gale for him to leave you alone.

“Stop comparing my recovery to others, Gale.”

“Well it's hard not to,” He turned his head to face you, a classic look of boredom painting his features. “I’m not trying to say what you went through wasn’t horrible, but you did survive.”

“And that’s supposed to mean something?” You tried to stay calm, but it was becoming harder as you looked up from your book. 

Reason entered your mind, He doesn’t know what happened in there, but you quickly threw it away as your emotions took the driver's seat.

“Yes. It means you're here.”  Gale ran a hand through his hair, something he did when he was unsure of what to do. 

Placing the book on your side table, you responded, “I think you’re missing the point.”

“Then explain it to me.”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, “You really want me to?”

“Yes.” He said it so simply.

The room felt like it was closing around you. “You weren’t there.” You whispered, looking down at your hands.

“I know.” His jaw tightened.

“No, you don’t.” You immediately regretted saying it, but the anger had already broken free. "You have no idea what it was like." 

"I never said I did." His shoulders stiffened. 

You weren’t sure if Gale was trying to escalate or deescalate the situation. Still, you responded like he was. "Then stop acting like surviving means I'm supposed to be okay."

Gale stood from the bed, "I'm not saying that."

"That's exactly what you're saying."

His frustration was becoming visible, "No, what I'm saying is that you're here, not captured in the Capitol."

"And what if I don't feel lucky about that?" The words slipped out before you could stop them.

Silence.

Gale froze and your own stomach dropped.

For a moment neither of you moved.

"You don't mean that." His voice was quieter now, not quite understanding. Afterall, Gale had fought to survive for his entire life, seeing someone who didn’t have that same drive as him was new.

You looked down at the blanket pooled around your legs. You didn’t even know if it was true anymore, but you knew it was when you were in that room.

Gale sighed heavily, "Y/N." The concern in his voice only made you angrier.

"You know what? Forget it," you replied, waving him away like he was a fly.

Gale didn't leave, instead deciding to continue arguing, "Every time someone tries to help you, you shut them out."

You laughed humorlessly, "Help me?"

His eyebrows shot up, "Yeah."

"You compare me to other injuries every chance you get."

"I'm trying to remind you that you're healing." He insisted.

"Well it's not helping." 

Gale looked genuinely taken aback. For the first time, he seemed to realize those comments weren't encouraging. Instead of backing down, he crossed his arms. "Then what am I supposed to do?"

You didn't have an answer. That frustrated him even more.

"I come here every day."

Guilt twisted in your chest, "I know."

"I talk to you."

The feeling begins to burn, "I know."

"I try to make you laugh."

You clenched your jaw, "I know."

"Then tell me what you want."

The question hung between you. You thought about Finnick. About the way he'd sit beside you for hours without asking for anything. The way he never pushed, never expected, never treated healing like something that could be measured.

Your eyes burned, "I don't know."

Gale stared at you, then something clicked behind his eyes and his expression shifted. Not anger, but understanding. The painful kind.

"Oh."

Your stomach sank, "Gale—"

He didn’t let you protest, "You miss him."

You looked away. That simple movement proved to him that his suspicions were true.

A pained laugh escaped him, "That's what this is."

"No." The lie sounded weak even to your own ears.

Gale shook his head, "I've been sitting here wondering what I'm doing wrong." He stepped toward the door, “And the whole time you've been wishing I was Finnick.Well, guess what?”

You hummed curiously, already annoyed and sensitive.

“Finnick isn’t here and he isn’t coming because he didn’t care enough to put up with you. I did.” He shoved a table of supplies on his way out, a loud clatter of heavy metal following soon after.

The crash sounded too much like the Capitol — metal clanging against concrete before another round of pain. Your shaking hands rose to cover your ringing ears as your eyes closed. Everything reminded you of the Capitol. The window looking into your room, the cold and humid air, and the silence that followed after each hit.

Gale’s words dug deep and the dam that sealed all negativity broke.

It really is my fault for being alone.

Everyone who cared for me hates me.

No one is coming to comfort me. 

They are going to send me back to the Capitol.

Tears streamed down your face. Your chest tightened, as if someone was squeezing your lungs. Breathing grew harder with short, quick, half-breaths that didn’t quite fill your lungs.

Footsteps ran towards your room. Through your tear stricken eyes you could barely make out who it was, but you recognized the uniform.

The nurse tried to soothe you with comforting words but you didn’t hear any of it. She could tell that just talking wouldn’t get to you and tried to rub your shoulders, but you flinched at the contact. Her hand retreated and tried to talk louder this time so you could hear her over your sobs, but it was no use.

You think she was asking what was wrong or if you were alright but you lacked the brain capacity to respond, instead you curled into yourself. Your hands grasped at the shoulders of your white t-shirt and pulled tight, looking for some kind of compression that would calm your nervous system. 

The nurse lingered in the corner, giving up on trying to calm you down by herself and conjuring another solution. Once she found it, she ran out of the room without another word. You didn’t even notice she left, since you were too focused on the horrible thoughts plaguing your mind.

You didn’t recall there being any new footsteps as the bed dipped from the weight of someone new.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” Finnick's voice broke through the wall that your mind created.

He didn’t touch you, he knew what your reaction would be if he did. He just sat, close enough to where you could reach out to him and far enough so he wasn’t initiating anything without your consent.

You looked up from where you shielded your eyes on your knees, still staying in that scrunched up position. He looked exhausted — frail and sickly — but still painfully beautiful. His eyes were red from crying and it was clear he hadn’t been going down to the dining hall.

Finnick was still whispering sweet nothings, his body stiff with restraint.

An unknown amount of time passed as you watched him, ultimately deciding that he wasn’t going to hurt you and he was still that sweet boy you met many years ago.

One trembling hand released your shirt and reached toward him. He reacted immediately, encompassing your hand in a firm hold, a breath of relief escaping his lungs.

Not even a second later you’re tackling him in a hug. His strong arms wrapping around you in a tight, passionate hold. Finnick’s hand rubbed up and down your back in comforting motions. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, damping his shirt with the final wave of tears. 

“Breathe with me,” One of his hands comes up to stroke the back of your head.

It didn’t take long in Finnick’s arms for you to come back to reality. The sobs eventually stopped and your breathing steadied, only occasional hiccups interrupting the intimate silence.

Eventually, you spoke, “Finnick?”

“I’m here, sweetheart.” He pressed a kiss to the side of your head.

“I’m sorry.” Your hold tightened around his, scared he might leave, “I- I shouldn’t have pushed you away and I’m sorry for comparing you to Gale, He’s such an ass. I’m such an ass—”

Finnick shushed you softly, “It’s okay, baby.” He didn’t want you to start spiraling again, you’ve already been through so much today.

It didn’t help much as more thoughts rose to the surface, “Are you mad at me?”

“No… I was hurt.” He watched your body rise and fall with each breath, “I won’t lie and say I wasn’t.” His hand continued rubbing soothing circles on your back, “But, I know why you said it.”

Finnick wiped away your tears and answered every question you had. They ranged from “What was for dinner?” to “Are we safe?”

Hours passed as you laid in his arms on that tiny, uncomfortable bed. There were probably more struggles to come but for now it was just the two of you and mindless conversations that you always dreamed of while in the Heavensbee mansion.

The clock on the wall signaled that it was the early morning and that you should rest. Finnick refilled the water by your bed and tucked you in.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N. Goodnight.” He leaned down to kiss your forehead in parting, but as he turned away to leave, you grabbed onto his wrist.

You tug him back towards you, “Stay… please.”

It only took those words and your big puppy-dog eyes for him to fold instantly. 

“I always will.”

-.-

Chapter 4

Masterlist

“Come on,” Peeta’s voice broke from behind the door, “just talk to me, please.”

You squeezed your eyes shut and buried your head further into the pillow. He was still using that warm, gentle tone that you loved, but you couldn’t stand it now.

A few weeks ago you would’ve opened the door without hesitation. Back when you were cuddling underneath a tree and dreaming of a future beyond Panem. Before the Reaping.

Now, all you can do is picture him confessing his undying love for Katniss in front of all Panem. Meanwhile, you stood in district 12 looking like a total fool.

“He doesn’t get to do this,” you whispered to yourself, “He doesn’t get to come home and pretend nothing has changed.”

The door creaked lightly as he pressed his forehead into the old wood, “I know you're mad at me, you have every right to.” His hand continued to paw at the knob, “Just let me explain—”

“Explain what?” You snapped, abruptly yanking the door open. “That you love her? That you made me a national joke?”

Peeta stared at you like you slapped him. Dark circles bruised his under eye, his thin body shaking underneath your gaze. Despite the abuse of the games, he still looked like your beautiful Peeta.

“It wasn’t like that.” He said quietly.

“You told the entire country you were in love with her.” 

“I had to keep her alive.”

“And what about me?” The words came out small and broken, mimicking what you felt on the inside.

Peeta’s expression cracked completely, “You think I forgot about you?” He stepped forward carefully, like you were a wounded animal. “In that arena, you were the only thing I could think about besides surviving.” His voice trembled, “Every second I kept wondering if you were watching me and hating me. It's clear you were.”

You swallowed hard, refusing to cry. “Then why act like I didn’t exist?”

“Because I had to,” His voice was strained.

You laughed bitterly, “Right. For the audience. For the Sponsors. I know.”

“No—You don't." The frustration in his voice startled you. He’s never sounded frustrated at you before. He ran a hand through his hair and looked away for a moment.

“They tell you in the Capitol that people only care about a good story,” he said quietly. “Haymitch kept pushing the romance angle because it kept us alive. Every kiss, every confession… It got us medicine. Food. Sponsors.” 

“It all sounded so real,” your throat tightened painfully.

“Some of it was.”

Your head snapped toward him

“I care about Katniss,” he admitted. “I always will. After everything we survived together, how could I not?”

The words stabbed you in the heart.

“But she’s not the one I imagined coming home to,” He closed the gap between you, “you were.”

You stared at him, unable to speak. His words were overwhelming.

“I thought you’d hate me after watching all that,” he continued softly. “And honestly? I hated myself too. Every interview, every time Caesar asked about love, all I could think about was you sitting somewhere hearing it. But if I didn’t play along, we both would’ve died.”

“I don’t hate you,” your hand reaches for him. 

“Really?” he asks, his voice somewhere between relief and disbelief.

You nodded, “I was mad, but I could never hate you.”

Peeta felt a weight lift off his shoulders at your words.

“I thought I was losing you… I mean even if you had won it felt like you’d never be mine again.” You whisper, hands now holding his as you look to the ground.

“Baby… look at me,” He whispers, one of his hands moving up to cup your face, making you look up at him. “You’re my everything. It's you, it’s always been you. As long as I’m breathing I will always be utterly and completely yours until my very last breath,” He brings your hand to the left side of his chest, right above his heart. “I’m right here, all yours, always yours.”

You move closer, closing the distance between you two as you lean into his warmth. His arms move to wrap around you in a firm embrace. He kissed the top of your head before adjusting to rest his chin there.

Although he had been back in district 12 for a week, he hadn’t felt at home until now with you in his arms.

-.-

That doesn’t stop Rooster from charming you; the following weeks are filled with Bradley being a silent gentleman and tiny quips.

After 2 months, you and Bradley begin secretly dating.

It was more for your peace than anything else. If everyone knew about you two, then it would be endless teasing, and Jake would rain hell on everyone for at least a few weeks.

Bradley is sweet, sickeningly so.

He doesn’t rush you; he likes the slow pace that was set.

He takes you to breakfast on the weekends and enjoys staying in for movie nights.

When he’s too busy to take you on a real date, you will go run errands together. Whether it be grocery shopping, getting car maintenance, or picking up medication from the pharmacy. He just likes to spend time with you.

The rest of the Dagger squad adores you as well.

Micky and Reuban relentlessly send you Instagram reels

Javy bets against you in darts and always finds a way to lose.

You and Bob share book recommendations

You and Nat have a monthly girls' night filled with wine and gossip, during which your secret relationship is revealed.

She promises to not tell anyone, but you pull a Hamilton and ruin your reputation before anyone else can.

To say Jake was pissed off when he found out was an understatement. He stormed out of the house and sped over to Rooster’s

You stood in between them as Jake yelled, you were the only reason it didn’t get physical.

Bradley was calm; he knew this would happen one day, especially if he planned on marrying you.

There was no group Hard Deck night that week. Instead, you, Nat, and Bob had your own girls' night to relieve stress. You baked and watched Jeopardy into the early morning.

Eventually, the bar nights return after Jake gives Bradley the shovel talk.

When you get married 3 years later, Natasha is the best man, and Jake is the maid of honor.

Full series coming soon!!