finnick odair imagine | he’s insecure about his past
requested by anon
warnings: mentions of prostitution
In which Finnick tells you about his past and how it made him feel, and you’re there to help him see his worth again.
“There’s something I need to tell you.” Finnick worried at his lip as he finally broke the silence between the two of you. You had been seeing one another for weeks, but you’d had feelings for him for a lot longer than that, with him always flirting and you always rolling your eyes, secretly enjoying the attention. Ever since you had made it official, though, things had changed; he had been quiet, reserved, and you weren’t quite sure why. It seemed that perhaps now you were finally about to get your answer.
You sat down at the kitchen table across from him, your hands fidgety in your lap and your heart pounding so loud you were sure he could hear it. All you could think was: he’s going to break up with me. This is it.
“What is it?” You asked as calmly as you could. “You can tell me anything. You know that.”
He couldn’t meet your eyes. His usual cheeky smile had been long wiped from his face. You had never seen him like this, not even in the arena. He was always so confident, even when faced with death. That terrified you even more.
“[Y/N], I’ve not been honest with you about who I am. What I’ve done.”
He’s cheated, you thought, your heart sinking. “Okay,” you whispered. “What have you done?”
He took a deep breath, ran his hands over his face as though he didn’t want you to even look at him. “I’m a prostitute…or, was.”
“What?” Your eyes widened, your mouth slightly agape. This was certainly not what you had been expecting to hear. “What do you mean?”
“After my first time in the Games, Snow…He made me sell myself to women. Mostly those in the Capitol, but not always. He threatened the safety of my family. He made it clear that I had no choice.”
You had no idea what to say. He looked so broken—and more than that, ashamed—as he spoke. There were so many questions, so many thoughts rushing through your head, and all you could do was stare at him, a tear rolling down your cheek without you even realising. Your skin crawled at the thought of Finnick being treated so awfully.
“I didn’t let them pay me, at least, not with money. I asked for their secrets, instead. I never wanted it, [Y/N]. I never wanted to feel so…dirty.” His voice cracked on that last word and that was when you sprung into action, grabbing his hand above the table quickly.
“You’re not dirty, Finnick. It wasn’t your fault.” You squeezed his hand reassuredly, finding it difficult to hide your anger at the Snow. “It’s the Capitol. They’re disgusting. You didn’t deserve to be treated like some kind of animal. I’m so sorry you had to go through all that.”
A flicker of surprise passed over his face before his eyebrows furrowed again and he looked down at your intertwined hands. “I thought you’d be angry…or disgusted. How can you even look at me after what I’ve just told you? I was a prostitute, [Y/N],” he said again as though you had misunderstood the first time.
“It doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t make me see you any differently. How could it?” You smiled sadly, cupping his jaw with your hand and tracing a gentle thumb over the corner of his mouth. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, and when he opened them again, they were filled with tears of his own.
“Sometimes I just feel like I’m worthless. My own body didn’t belong to me. I was used, treated like I was nothing. How can I expect you to love me after all of that?”
“Because I’m not like them. Because I know that you’re so much more than what they made you.” You stood up and rounded the table until you reached him. For once, it was not you that needed the reassurance. It was not you who felt insecure and underserving of him, and you just hoped that you could show him how much he was truly worth. You sat in his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck and wiping away a tear that had fallen. “You’re not worthless, Finnick. You’re everything to me. I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t tell me sooner.”
“I thought you’d run a mile. I didn’t want you to see me the way that everyone else did, but I knew you had to know.”
“I could never see you that way.” You kissed his forehead gently and allowed him to rest his face in the crook of your neck. Of course, there was still so much that you needed to process, so much you knew he would eventually tell you more about, but you knew all that would come with time.
“What did I do to deserve you?” He murmured, the sound vibrating against your shirt.
“It should be me asking you that,” you smiled, pulling away and pushing his hair out of his face. You didn’t tell him you loved him—it was too soon for that, even though you both knew the feelings were there. Instead, you simply let him seek comfort in your warmth.
You sat there for hours, in his lap, his head against your chest. He was listening to the sound of your heartbeat as he told you stories about the Capitol and the women he would meet. He spoke for hours and you listened, not drifting off once.
“You never have to go through that again,” you told him when his voice had finally trailed off. “It’s over now.”
He nodded, the corners of his mouth turned up as though he wanted to smile but didn’t quite remember how to. When you woke up the day after, though, the smiling, teasing Finnick you knew so well was back and a weight having been lifted from his chest.
It wouldn’t be easy, but you would try your best to help him see his own worth again.