A/N: we finally get out hot n sexy man on staaaaaage, roll up, roll up, introducing our man finNICKK

Warnings: trauma, swearing, killing, idrk, tell me if there's anything else

Word count: 1685

 I stand by the pair of black horses that will pull our chariots into the open ceremonies. I scowl, which wards off conversations, but not curious stares. There's only one other victor I really know, and I don't even want to look at him. If I do, it'll just make it harder for me to kill him in the end. But I think he's made it his goal to speak to me. No doubt about that, actually. I sense his presence, his gaze on me, but I don't turn and meet it as he approaches.

'Hello, stranger,' he purrs in my ear.

'Fuck off, Finnick.'

'No nicknames, I see,' he chuckles. 'Oh don't worry, no need to explain yourself. You want to distance yourself from me so it's easier for you to kill me when the time comes.'

He knows me. Down to my very core. He's seen every scar on my body, and I've seen every scar on his. I've comforted him in the night when he jolts awake, mind still broken from being forced to kill at the tender young age of fourteen. He was one of the youngest victors. That was ten years ago. And just a year back, he and I... We distracted each other, him me from my worry for Kat and Peeta, me him from his worry about the tributes he was mentoring. I know I can kill him. Last year we were playing with each other. We both knew it wasn't love. We both knew it wasn't real. What is, nowadays?

I turn around and see that his stylist has decided the most sponsors he'll get are from young, single women who will drool over him, because he's dressed in this flamboyant golden net that is sneakily knotted over the groin so he isn't fully naked. Lifting my eyes to his face, I see the way his bronze hair glints a little in the light, his half grin, perfectly symmetrical, and his sea green eyes that drown me, suck me in, hold me there, every time I look. Shaking my head, I back away until my spine hits the chariot behind me.

'Go away.'

'Want a sugarcube?' He asks, holding out a handful. He pops one in his mouth and crunches slowly, eyes fixed on me in this hypnotic way that only Finnick Odair can manage without looking absolutely crazed. Or maybe he does look crazed, I just don't see it. He speaks through a mouthful of sugarcube. 'They're for the horses, but who cares?' He shrugs. 'They have years to eat sugar whereas you and I... well, if we see something sweet, we better grab it quick.'

He grins, and his eyes glimmer suggestively. It almost breaks me, that familiar mischievous glint from those days when I tried to block out Kat on the screen of the luxurious, curved screened TV. Those days when he distracted me from that TV screen. His tongue darts out and wets his lips, and I know he knows he's driving me crazy as he pins me down with his gaze, a gaze I'll never be able to brush off until he's dead.

'Please, Finn,' I choke. 'Just go.' At this point, I'm desperately hoping that Peeta will appear and save me.

'Why, Ryn?' The use of my nickname in response to his own makes me turn away from him as I stumble for words.

'I - I - '

He leans in closer, hands either side of my head, trapping me. Normally, it would make me smirk, make me bury my hands in his hair, make me kiss him, but I nimbly duck under his arm and put a good bit of distance between us before he can trap me again. I cross my arms, trying to shake off the ghostly memory of my lips on his.

'Don't you have some woman at home who you shower with gifts and wouldn't be happy with you and me?'

His facade drops for a moment. I see right through him, see the hurt I've caused. Low blow, and we both know it. He was fucking turned into a prostitute pretty much as soon as he got out of the Arena ten years ago, and somehow I have the stupidity to joke about it because I desperately need to pull myself away from those enchanting emerald eyes.

'No, no, no,' he laughs to himself. 'I kept myself free for you. I didn't know you'd end the fun so early.' He teases.

'Not everything's about you, Odair,' I say, hardening my heart as Peeta comes in. 'I didn't volunteer so I could enter the Games with you.'

~

'Remember,' Haymitch says as I make my way to the lift to head to training. 'Don't forget to make friends.'

'Me?' I laugh. 'Make friends?'

'You'll have to. Over the last few years, you've distanced yourself from them. You and Peeta will be the easiest to kill.'

My face darkens, and I know he's right. 'Just as long as you don't recommend Finn - uh, Finnick.'

Haymitch shrugs. 'You're as antisocial as your sister.'

The mention of Kat hurts me, cuts deeper than Haymitch intends. Because Kat isn't here to 'mentor'. She's back home, maybe because she couldn't bear to see the Arena again, or maybe because she knows that I need her to look after Mum and Prim. Either way, she's back in District Twelve, and I wouldn't be surprised if she was sparking a rebellion. She's the girl on fire, after all. The figurehead of the rebellion. The mockingjay. I glance down at the pin that Madge gave her, which she fixed onto my shirt as I left. It reminds me of her, and instead of pitying myself, I let it strengthen me, let it raise my chin and straighten my spine, let it fuel the fire in my eyes.

'Ready?' I ask Peeta Mellark, but it comes out more like a hate filled snarl aimed at the Capitol.

'Uh, yeah,' he stammers, probably intimidated by the small woman who looks like she could kill the President with her eyes - or her bare hands. Oh, how I would love to do that. I step into the lift and hold the doors for Peeta, who climbs in behind me. I jab the button for the training level with a little more vehemence than it deserves.

'Are you okay?' Peeta asks. I almost turn around and slap him, but I realise that he knows Kat loves me and he wants me to live so she won't be grieving at the end of these Games. But if I win, Peeta dies, and he's not aware just how much she needs him. So instead of staring at him sullenly, I force a smile.

'Yeah. I just wish...' I cut myself off from saying something that I'll regret. 'Peeta,' I sigh. 'I don't care what you think, you're going to win these Games. I'm not going to - I'm - I'm only here so Katniss didn't have to go. I'll kill myself at the end if you can't. I fucking will. So, while I'm here, you've got a personal bodyguard, okay?'

'But - '

'Yes, I'm Kat's sister. Yes, she'll be sad if I die. But it'll break her heart if you do, and I won't have that.' I stare him in the eyes. 'Got it?'

'She - '

'Got it?' I say a little more sharply. He sighs.

'Yes.'

I nod. 'Good.'

~

As I enter the training room, I'm not surprised. Around half of the victors haven't bothered to come. I narrow my eyes at the other two in the room. Brutus, a District One and Enobaria, a District Two. Both Careers. Not batting an eyelid, I turn back to Peeta.

'Alright,' I say. 'Go where you want. Divide and conquer, okay? And make friends. If that means buttering them up or letting them win when you spar with each other, do it.'

He nods, and I make a beeline for the sword floor, just out of curiosity to see if I can still handle a blade as well as I can a bow.

Grabbing a thin, sleek blade, I try a few thrusts. Nope, no erosion of my swordsmanship. Methodically, I move around the room, trying out each station, spending about a quarter of an hour minimum on each. By 10 o' clock, only half the tributes have shown. I move to the knot station, which I know is one of my weaknesses.

I'm puzzling over a harder, more intricate knot than the ones I know, chewing on my lower lip, when I sense someone behind me.

'Go away.' I huff. 'I know you know possibly every single knot invented and have absolutely no reason to be at this station.'

'You're here, and that's a pretty good reason,' he answers, his arms wrapping around me and finishing the knot I'm working on. The toned body behind me, the hard chest pressed to my back, the strong arms curled around me, those hands, those fingers... They're so familiar I don't even flinch. His fingers are quick and deft, and they make the knot seem like the elegant, looping braids Mum put Kat's hair in last Reaping Day. I can't help it, I sink back into his arms with a sigh, tilting my head back to rest it against his collarbone.

'Changed your mind about pushing me away, Everdeen?' He chuckles.

'Shut up, Finn,' I mutter, enjoying the feel of his arms around me. He brushes a hand through my hair, and I decide that I'd better make the most of it before I have to kill him. In my left ear, I hear his soft laugh, but it's the one he uses to capture women, not the real one I've heard only once or twice. It unsettles me enough for it to cause me to pull away from him, and I glance over when I feel a few pairs of eyes on me. It's the Career tributes. And the way they glare tells me I'm the first to die.

lmfao the amount of dirty jokes you could make about the vocab in this chapter makes me want to cry but i cant think of any better substitutes *shrugs wearily* just please have mercy