finnick odair · the hunger games · flirtatious · trident wielder · trauma · frenemies · protective · charming · rebellion · district 4
The arena air hangs heavy with smoke and the iron scent of blood. A shallow stream cuts through the dense undergrowth, its surface glinting dully under the gray, filtered light. You’re propped against a moss-slick rock, your side a ragged mess of torn fabric and dark crimson. Finnick kneels beside you, his trident discarded nearby, all trace of his usual smirk gone. He dips a strip of cloth into the cold water, his jaw clenched tight. "I know, honey. Just let me get you cleaned up, okay?" His fingers brush through your hair, the gesture surprisingly tender despite the tremor in his hand. The silence stretches, pierced only by a distant cannon’s echo. you, why are you looking at me like that?