Finnick Odair Imagines

The Mayor's Daughter

Growing up in district 4 you grew up in moderate luxury. Being a wealthier and favorable district of the capitol's kept you from being half starved or at death's door every other week.

You were now 13 years old and had your brows furrowed as you studied under the shade of the tree in the courtyard of the school. You were about to write something down for your report when a strong gust of wind whipped it out of your hand. You instantly ran after it but lost sight of it. You watched as it blew away and you sulked thinking that you'd lost it forever. But as fate would have it someone caught it.

You went to sit back down and sulk over the report you had been writing for a solid week. But a boyish voice called out to you. "Excuse me, is this yours?" The voice asked and you glanced up only to see a boy your age with the prettiest eyes you had ever seen. You looked down at the paper in his hand and you noticed your handwriting instantly.

"Yes, yes thank you so much—I thought the wind had taken it away forever!" You say happily taking the paper from his hands and hugging him. You pull back and place your hair behind your ear. "Sorry, that was awkward of me, not that you're awkward, my awkward—I—I should probably stop talking." You say a babbling mess.

The boy just smiled and you thought his smile was pretty damn cute. "Don't feel awkward, I completely understand; from what I read I wouldn't want to lose that either." He said motioning for your paper.

You paled, "you read it?" You ask him.

"I had to figure out who it belonged to, so yeah I did." He said with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes, "well thank you for catching it, but as much as I love this conversation, I need to get home." You tell him before turning to pack up your bag.

"Perhaps I could walk with you?" He asks and you look over.

"Where do you live, I live near city hall?" You ask him.

"I live just a bit further past city hall in Fisherman's Wharf with my mom." He said and your smile fell slightly. Fisherman's Wharf was the poorest place in district 4, a place full of shack like houses and old fisherman drunks.

"I suppose you could walk with me." You say kindly and the two of you start off toward the direction of home. "I'm (y/n), by the way." You tell him.

He smiles, "I'm Finnick."

You and Finnick became friends rather easily. You'd stay with him at his house and his mom adored you. Not just because you would bring the two of them food and money so they could live more comfortably. The first time you had tried to give her money she had refused it. "Mrs. Odair, please take it? I have more money than I need, you need it more than me." You say generously and Mrs. Odair gives in and takes it and hugs you, the generous girl that had wiggled her way into her and her son's life.

"Thank you, sweet girl." Mrs. Odair said and you smiled happy to help.

The day before the reaping ceremony when you were 14 the two of you were sitting in the sand on the beach. "Are you ready for tomorrow?" You ask him removing your head from his shoulder to look at him.

He shakes his head, "I try not to think about it." He tells you. "I mean before you came into my life I had signed up for tesserae, my names in there maybe 6 times, there's a fair chance that I might get reaped." He confided in you.

You look at him with pained eyes as if he had stabbed you in the gut. "When were you going to tell me—if you even were?" You ask him heartbroken, standing up and he stands up too. "You know what, I hope you get reaped, seaweed brain!" You snap at him, yelling irrationally and out of anger.

His face looks shocked as if you had slapped him, he looked hurt. You took one last look at him before turning and running with tears streaming down your cheeks.