THG ficlets, first batch (Finnick/Annie, Finnick/Haymitch)
Finnick buying Haymitch a gift at the Hob in the Spin Control 'verse, for sabaceanbabe, 200 words.
Finnick liked novels, stories from before the Dark Days, stories about people other than him, places other than Panem. Haymitch liked non-fiction, he liked facts. He liked books that taught him something, anything, books that didn’t waste his time with fancy words. Victory had gained him access to amounts of knowledge that he’d never had a chance to gather in school.
The book was on cars, though Twelve didn’t have cars, especially not the old-fashioned kind with rubber wheels depicted on the faded cover, and it was overpriced. Finnick knew it, and Salla, the book lady knew it, too. He bought it anyway.
Eyes were on him, everywhere around. People were talking, voices rushing through the Hob - enjoying himself so quickly again after the Games, guess he got bored without a girl to fuck, the other one at least would look like he belongs.
Salla took his money, with a short nod and eyes that noticed too much. Finnick returned the nod, pocketing the book, not attempting a smile. It would be wasted here. He’d keep it for when he got home.
Finnick and Annie watching the sunset on the beach, for sabaceanbabe, 200 words.
Annie snuggled closer against Finnick’s chest. Her eyes were on the horizon, the sun setting down onto the sea and spilling dark red splashes all across. Spilling blood, her brain supplied and stuttered while it tried to decide if it should care.
“What is it?” she muttered, feeling Finnick shifting his weight, careful so she wouldn’t have to move.
Feeling him kissing the top of her head, he said against her hair, “Doesn’t matter.” She said, “Finnick,” and he chuckled, abashedly, and said, “My arm fell asleep.”
Rolling her eyes at him while she adjusted her position, she took his hands and folded hers on top of them, holding them in place. “Better?” she said in a tone that said, don’t fuck with me. He snorted against the back of her head, shaking his fingers awake underneath hers, whether it tickled her belly or not. He didn’t let go, though. “Yes, ma’am,” he told her hair and she snorted herself, very pointedly, before she settled in to focus on the sunset again.
She’d been wrong, she told her brain; it had been ludicrous to think it looked like blood.
Finnick/Annie, the moment he realized he was hooked, for terresdebrume on tumblr, 300 words.
Wind was blowing harshly on the Victor’s Rock, howling through the night, and Finnick swore to himself when he bumped into something, a trash bin someone had left on the sidewalk. He told himself there hadn’t been storms in his arena, adrenaline shouldn’t be pumping through his veins the way it did. He just wanted to be home.
They’d kissed - she had kissed him and he had let her like he was used to, except that was a lie, because he had kissed her, it had been his idea. Stupid, he thought, angry at himself, and he didn’t know what he’d been thinking. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t been thinking. He couldn’t believe he’d spent the last weeks thinking about Annie without noticing what it all meant.
“I’ve got to go,” he’d said, trying to not look her in the eye and to not see the expression on her face, and he’d been gone.
“What happened, is something the…” his mom started saying when she opened the door to his banging, and he said, “It’s nothing, mom, please, go back to bed,” brushing past her up to his room. She hadn’t expected him back so soon, not when he’d been spending most evenings at Annie’s until way past midnight, and yes, he’d been an idiot, all the way through.
That hadn’t been anger on Annie’s face when he’d left her there, although she would have had a right to be angry after how he’d led her on. It had been confusion - concern. Breathing hard, Finnick reached his room, throwing his jacket on the bed, trying to think. Trying to figure out how he would make it up to Annie once he went back.
Because of course he would go back.
That was the scariest part of all.
Finnick liked novels, stories from before the Dark Days, stories about people other than him, places other than Panem. Haymitch liked non-fiction, he liked facts. He liked books that taught him something, anything, books that didn’t waste his time with fancy words. Victory had gained him access to amounts of knowledge that he’d never had a chance to gather in school.
The book was on cars, though Twelve didn’t have cars, especially not the old-fashioned kind with rubber wheels depicted on the faded cover, and it was overpriced. Finnick knew it, and Salla, the book lady knew it, too. He bought it anyway.
Eyes were on him, everywhere around. People were talking, voices rushing through the Hob - enjoying himself so quickly again after the Games, guess he got bored without a girl to fuck, the other one at least would look like he belongs.
Salla took his money, with a short nod and eyes that noticed too much. Finnick returned the nod, pocketing the book, not attempting a smile. It would be wasted here. He’d keep it for when he got home.
Finnick and Annie watching the sunset on the beach, for sabaceanbabe, 200 words.
Annie snuggled closer against Finnick’s chest. Her eyes were on the horizon, the sun setting down onto the sea and spilling dark red splashes all across. Spilling blood, her brain supplied and stuttered while it tried to decide if it should care.
“What is it?” she muttered, feeling Finnick shifting his weight, careful so she wouldn’t have to move.
Feeling him kissing the top of her head, he said against her hair, “Doesn’t matter.” She said, “Finnick,” and he chuckled, abashedly, and said, “My arm fell asleep.”
Rolling her eyes at him while she adjusted her position, she took his hands and folded hers on top of them, holding them in place. “Better?” she said in a tone that said, don’t fuck with me. He snorted against the back of her head, shaking his fingers awake underneath hers, whether it tickled her belly or not. He didn’t let go, though. “Yes, ma’am,” he told her hair and she snorted herself, very pointedly, before she settled in to focus on the sunset again.
She’d been wrong, she told her brain; it had been ludicrous to think it looked like blood.
Finnick/Annie, the moment he realized he was hooked, for terresdebrume on tumblr, 300 words.
Wind was blowing harshly on the Victor’s Rock, howling through the night, and Finnick swore to himself when he bumped into something, a trash bin someone had left on the sidewalk. He told himself there hadn’t been storms in his arena, adrenaline shouldn’t be pumping through his veins the way it did. He just wanted to be home.
They’d kissed - she had kissed him and he had let her like he was used to, except that was a lie, because he had kissed her, it had been his idea. Stupid, he thought, angry at himself, and he didn’t know what he’d been thinking. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t been thinking. He couldn’t believe he’d spent the last weeks thinking about Annie without noticing what it all meant.
“I’ve got to go,” he’d said, trying to not look her in the eye and to not see the expression on her face, and he’d been gone.
“What happened, is something the…” his mom started saying when she opened the door to his banging, and he said, “It’s nothing, mom, please, go back to bed,” brushing past her up to his room. She hadn’t expected him back so soon, not when he’d been spending most evenings at Annie’s until way past midnight, and yes, he’d been an idiot, all the way through.
That hadn’t been anger on Annie’s face when he’d left her there, although she would have had a right to be angry after how he’d led her on. It had been confusion - concern. Breathing hard, Finnick reached his room, throwing his jacket on the bed, trying to think. Trying to figure out how he would make it up to Annie once he went back.
Because of course he would go back.
That was the scariest part of all.