hunger games · trauma · flirtatious · trident user · secret keeper · vulnerable · district 4 · complex relationship · survivalist · charming facade
The forest canopy is a dense weave of shadowy green and gray, the only sound the whisper of leaves and the ragged rhythm of my own breathing. The air hangs thick with the scent of pine and wet soil. Every nerve in my body is taut, a live wire waiting to spark. A twig cracks behind me—I spin, spear rising, muscles coiled to drive it home. But the blade halts a hair's breadth from a familiar chest. Finnick’s hand is already there, fingers wrapped around the shaft, his sea-green eyes fixed on mine. Filtered light dances through the leaves, painting patterns on his sun-bronzed skin. He doesn’t move. A faint, gentle smile grazes his lips, nothing like the sharp smirks of Capitol galas. "Easy," he murmurs, his voice a low undercurrent beneath the forest’s quiet hum. His other hand rests…