Please Please Do An Alex Turner Fic Fluff Or Angst Or Both Pretty Please!!!

please please do an alex turner fic🙏🙏 fluff or angst or both pretty please!!!

boys and girls i’ve come out of hibernation for this and this only.

REQUESTS OPEN

.☘︎ ݁˖𐦍༘ ⋆₊⊹.

hi my smoochies i’m alive and well pls ignore my 5 month hiatus. my requests ARE OPEN!! i wanna write for more people so my character list is as follows and not in any particular order ;)

✧finnick odair

✧ jj maybank

✧ anakin skywalker

✧ bellamy blake

✧ peeta mellark

✧ alex turner

✧ paul atreides

✧ lorenzo zurzolo

✧ anyone! just request and im sure id write it

- missed u guys, kiss kiss

could you do like enemies to lovers with finnick please 🥺🥺

love this idea, here it is ! wrote this with @rottingpeache ‘s idea/req of “i don’t really like you” and “i don’t really believe you!” i hope u like it!!

ONE FOR THE ROAD !

pairing; mentor!finnick x victor!reader

summary; you’ve been finnicks since the moment you met, after your interviews you break- who can fix you better than him?

contains; ANGST/FLUFF, two idiots in love, typical thg themes- i’m sure by now you know what i mean ;(

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finnick watched you from behind the curtains of the stage, somewhere in a hallway with your face on the screen infront of you. watching you with your hand over your heart as you gushed about your faux-greatfulness to the capitol.

he watched your face drop as all of your kills were flashed onto the large screen, he watched the squint in your eyes, the way your brows furrowed, the way your jaw clenched. he pleaded now to you, through his mind- bury the hatchet sweet girl, don’t fall apart, you’ve made it this far.

his fingers were crossed his foot tapping anxiously until the milisecond your interview concluded.

your stylists crowded around the hallway, waiting to applaud you on how good you were- but finnick knew you better than anyone, he kept his distance.

your presence came with fury, tearing off your ridiculous headpiece- it falling to the ground in pieces with seconds. each step you took seemed to get angrier. your stylists behind you with a hand on their chest. something their dull minds couldn’t understand, how could she be so angry when it’s over with?

when you turned the corner and he saw you, when he saw the darkness in your eyes clouding your every move. desperate to be alone, to rot away- he twisted you around and into him.

you fought against him- struggling to release yourself from his hold. finnick only pulled you closer to him, with a tighter hold. “it’s okay, you’re okay.” he hushed into your ear, your arms softened. they found a home around his neck while your head hid away in his neck.

“no,” you only shook your head. how could he lie to you when you’re like this? “it’s not, it’s not fucking fair.”

he understand, if anyone- he understands. “i’m still me, you’re still you.” he said that and he wanted to believe it, wanted it to be true. thought maybe the cards would fall into the right lineup for him- to all be in his favor, but when had they ever been?

“no im not.” you didn’t believe him, and he couldn’t believe himself- maybe the two of you could build a city of lies in your heads.

you wanted to tell him what a monster you were, how awful you were-but he had to have already known .

he’d watched you be the most deceitful creature in the game, the most twisted, two fast creature. you’re sure he knew.

“yes you are princess, i know it’s bad but you’re safe, you’re with me.” finnicks voice always had this perfect serene pitch, even when you didn’t mean to- in a world of voices it would be the only thing you could focus on.

the tears cascaded down your face, black mascara indefinetly staining his white sweater.

he would never admit this out loud, it almost ate him up inside thinking it- and he would beat himself up for it for as long as he lived, but you were not the same- you never would be. but he could love you in any way you came.

you weren’t the same girl who would collect the seashells that reminded you of him and run up to his door with a basket full of them- you would never be the same girl who’s eyes would sparkle at the smallest conversation between you, him, and mags in her living room on a summer night. the same girl who’d laugh so hard that your stomach ached and you’d slap his shoulder.

you weren’t the same girl. and he knew that the moment your knife went for your allies neck, the way you screamed when the last cannon went off.

and you’d never say it, but you thought of him. every time someone would charge at you- desperate to hear the cannon. you thought about how all you needed to do was run home into his arm and scream at him for not letting you love him sooner.

and now, now he needed to think of you. think of your loving touch- your pure heart and the sound of your overjoyed laugh when he’d hug you too tight- or catch you off guard with a joke. he needed to think about brining all this anger- this hate, this disgust and guilt out of you- for he’d rather take it all on himself than watch it eat at you.

so he would hold you close when you woke up screaming, bathe you when your body was too tired to hold itself up, whisper sweetheart nothings into your ear as he cradles you back into a deep slumber.

-

a/n; very short, just wanted to get a lil angst out for u guys ;))

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INBOX OPEN!!

KILLS TO KNOW !

part one

pairing; finnick odair x f!reader

summary; set in his ways, finnick got the best of you- you’d forgiven him- but you are so quick to temper.

contains; ANGST, self hatred, insults, mean!reader (she got her get-back fr fr), if ykwim, manipulation, mentions of forced prostitution.

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you and finnick had talked, briefly. you’d formed an alliance- it killed you like a disease. all for plutarchs plan of rebellion which had worked, except for peeta and johanna- oh, peeta and johanna

you felt physically sick seeing the young boy on capitol news, and to have the intuition of knowing what they’d likely done to johanna- it all made you sick.

katniss and finnick had been sedated upon arrival to district thirteen, you’d been much too preoccupied with the bullet wound in your abdomen to care. it seemed it was torment after torment after torment in the third quarter quell.

blood rain, monkeys, poisonous fog, and worst of all- after you, johanna, beetee, and wiress found the others after the blood rain and unfortunate death of johanna’s district partner, finnick looked at you with pity.

soaked in somebody else’s blood, frantically washing it off in the water whilst johanna gets it out of your hair, how dare he look at you with pity?

now here you were, in such an extravagant set of a hospital gown, unable to make any moves without the hawk eyes of a nurse.

it wasn’t until your curtain flew open- your hopefulness begged it to be news of a rescue but much to your dismay, it was only finnick.

he didn’t say anything, he just looked into your careless eyes and face that lacked its old vibrancy.

“they had to sedate me.” he doesn’t look too good either, his under eyes are grey and red- but what do you care, right? “they had to sedate me because i wouldn’t stop screaming for you.”

you had to bite back a snarky response, or bile- you didn’t know. “will you leave me alone if i tell you how much i care?” to you, right now, that wasn’t snarky. that was honest.

he only pinched the bridge of his nose- it seemed he’d purposefully locked himself out of your mind and couldn’t get the door to open again. “there’s so much i wanted to say, that i couldn’t. because i have cared, y/n. each and every minute since i met you i’ve cared and it didn’t stop after that night.”

you laughed- in his face. your ears must be deceiving you. there was no way finnick odair in his right mind had come to his knees and begged you to understand him? to reason with him?

“the capitol taught their darling well, i almost believed your act for a second, finnick.” you spit his name out- like fire on your tongue, desperate to have the word leave your mouth- it left a bitter taste. “if you came here to have me understand you- you’re four years late.”

you knew how to press his buttons, but he knew how to press yours too- how could you forget? it was the last thing he’d ever done to you- defile you at your most vulnerable- desecrate you when you had only ever beamed at him with pure love and adoration.

“i had to protect you, if only you’d let me speak you’d understand-“

“no! i don’t want to understand finnick! i don’t want to hear you speak or explain. i healed myself from the torture that is you. so i hope im not spoiling your glory or satisfaction from winning me over again, but i will not be left to put myself back together again because of you- i’ve lost the hatred and anger, all i am now is over it.”

you were right, he was a form of torture- knowing him was a dark sickness of death and pain- but he thought it would have been left in the districts- not here. he thought he could explain now- but you were utterly closed off at him. finnick held his pleas in- his wails of sorrow- all these years he held them in, all he had to do now was manage to snuff them out.

“things are different now.” he annunciated each word, made then sharp, made you really listen to what he was saying. “i’m not going to excuse what i said, or how i left you. but it was different then- we aren’t in the capitol anymore.”

you were confused at what he was insinuating, so you let him continue this time.

“it was the only way to keep you away from harm.” if by harm, he meant the life or death prostitution you faced on a monthly basis- then he’d failed miserably at protecting you- but you were wrong.

“i’ve heard whispers of what they’d make us do, y/n.”

us?

“snow had made his points very clear, i had two options but i made my own choice- i had to leave you.”

your eyes were burning into his, red brimmed and damp. you wanted to speak but the sinking feeling in your stomach suppressed it all.

there was something in his eyes, something you hadn’t seen since he held you all those years ago- kissing your forhead as the sobs wrecked through your body. the blood of kids your age still so fresh on your hands, heavy on your mind.

“i believe you.” it was all you could let out, you didn’t want to cry in front of him- you didn’t even know why this all hurt you so much. all these years you spent hating someone who had only done what he had done to protect you from him. you hated someone who already so deeply hated himself he let go of the only good thing in your his life to save it.

“it’s not your fault.” he reached out to you- hand running over your knuckles that lie in your lap. you don’t respond, your jaw is clenched and it doesn’t matter how long you’d been apart he can read you like an open book. finnick knows you’re fighting back tears, that you’re blaming yourself, you’re almost as self destructive as him. “y/n, it’s not your fault.”

he could repeat it all he wants but it won’t stop you from thinking it’s true, not now- maybe not ever.

but maybe he’d teach you how to forgive yourself- he who knows best than anyone. and maybe you’d teach him too. maybe you’d be help eachother heal.

-

masterlist

FEVERS !

finnick x reader series

pre seventieth-hunger games

contains; angst, heartbreak, second perspective, little to no use of ‘y/n’.

the water is anything but a mirror of your stagnant body, the waves are fighting the shore- crashing angrily as if to make a point of the fury climbing through your body.

you’re still, despite the slight water droplets tickling your bare legs. another year, another reaping, a handful of deaths. and with reapings in district four, came finnick, finally returning from the capitol.

it wasn’t hard to go on with your life without him, the most difficult of times being when you’d wake up with things to tell him, not knowing what was going on in his life. remembering how he looked down on you, how he laughed pointedly in your face before treating you like one of his fangirls- pretentiously slamming the door in your face.

but you were fine on your own now, over four long years had passed by in a flash and you’d left him alone- though he was everywhere and nowhere all at once.

you didn’t see him at the lighthouse near the pier, you didn’t hear him lauging when you’d walk to school together, you didn’t smell the sea salt whenever he’d walk into any room, didn’t feel the water spraying over you shivering body when he’d shake his wet hair out of the beach.

none of it mattered, your best friend was gone. you’d unfailingly remember the day finnick had been reaped, he wasn’t too sterling on putting on a mask back then. his eyes blown, his hesitance to step up to that stage. his eyes would’ve found yours in any crowd then. you thought you’d gone through the worst of it all losing him- oh, how you thought it was all over.

it was a dark morning in district four, you were simply just impending your attendance at the reaping to conclude, then return back to your bed, easier said than done.

your body distastefully pulled itself from the sand as the sun creeped up on the shoreline, signaling the end of your escape.

your mind was elsewhere- zoning out into your own world of issues until that familiar hue of lilacs from the hydrangea bush near your home caught your eye.

the trek from the beach was short, and your home was small. despite the fact that district four was amongst the wealthiest districts, the balance came in practical ways; enough food to go round, electricity and power for each family, but still treacherous working conditions.

finnick is standing behind the placemats of where the tributes will stand minutes from now, he can spot you in any crowd- but it scares him in a way. why can he only see you? despite the sea of girls your age surrounding you he can only see you.

the video plays, the same video that plays every year before finnick gets to get a good look at his tributes. it’s snow, he talks of war, of despair- as if the districts are a stranger to it.

usually he zones out, usually he doesn’t mind the names called. but something feels wrong about this day in particular. something that makes him easily strartled, like he should run.

you keep your eyes to your shoes, to the sand that covers the tips of them- but you can still feel his eyes, they’re burning you. not quite like the sun that scorches your eyes, but a burn you couldn’t hide from.

“ladies first!” your escorts voice is too peppy, it scratches your ears wrong. you just want to go home, more than usual. you want to close in on yourself.

the crinkling of the unfolding paper echoes through the microphone, a smile on the escorts painted lips, you almost feel like your dreaming.

you and finnicks minds are brought back to reality when your name is called. finnicks mind must have made it up, maybe hes been plagued with sun poisoning. his excuse is cut short as the girls around you form a gaping path from you to the stage, he knows you want to disappear, a part of him does too. your mother lets out a wail, but you can’t look at her- only as the peace keepers who lead you with hands on your back your back to the stage.

finnicks guilt consumes him wholly, it was surely his fault. something he did, something he said- he got your name into that bowl far too many times then it needed to be. he sees your face, he sees your tense shoulders as you walk your way up the stairs, onto the placemat on the stage. he knows you feel closed in at the stares, at the eyes of everyone- the cameras.

this is sickening, how well he can read you after all these years. how he has instantly promised to any god that was listening that he would not sleep until you made it out, that he would not quit the pleasure and charms of the capitolites until they gave you all of the materials you needed.

sickening, how your hair had waves it in- and he instantly knew it was from you taking your hair out of braids after they’d gotten wet from the saltwater. how you were slowly blinking- your dead give away at calming yourself down.

he cursed the crowd, he cursed snow, he cursed himself. how has nobody volunteered? how could snow try and hurt you after he’s spent so long shielding you from this exact moment? how could he let himself sit here and do nothing?

“and now, the boys!” the escorts voice makes finnick sick now, he swears he can feel blood dripping down his ears. the same voice that called out yours- that tried to take you to your death. “lux dagon!”

you’ve heard of him before, he’s a year older than you. he’s said to be charming, smart, likeable. all of your premonitions are proven to be true when he squares his shoulders off, a captivating smile flooding his mouth. unlike you, he doesn’t hesitate to stride up to the stage- he was a career child.

he’d waited his whole life for this moment, he was smarter, stronger, taller, and faster than you. his eyebrows were thick and dark, just like his round eyes. olive skin, and dark hair that fringed down to his forehead.

you were sure you were dead this moment, you were dead and you couldn’t even put up a fight. it was slightly enthralling, how your last bit of hope for survival was crushed at one mere name.

luxs smile reappears when he turns to you, the color was drained for your face- mouth slightly agape. he winks incredulously as he sticks his hand out to shake yours. you take it, well aware of the fact that your hand is very-likely soaked in sweat.

you can’t keep eye contact with him, all you can see is your mother being held back by peacekeepers- her face would be etched into your mind for some time. her only child, only family- you felt saddest for her most of all. because you knew this would be the last she saw of you before you’d be killed on television- you didn’t want to think about how helpless she’d feel, how she’d never quite be the same.

you try not to pay any mind to finnick as you make your way to the train car. infact, you don’t pay mind to anyone.

but nevertheless, finnick is hot on your tail- leaving no room for personal space. you’re sure it will be a long train ride, silent on your part.

the walls are dark grey, lined with gold. light fixtures decorate every surface. a plethora of food and drinks await you, none of it is fish nor vegetables. you don’t know what it is, but your stomach can’t handle the sight of it.

you sit on a red couch, gold hugs the ends of the seat. lux joins, taking the spot next to you. you don’t cause a stir when finnick sits in front of you, and certainly not when mags sits diagonal.

it almost feels like a sick joke to finnick, the idea that you’re infront of him after all these years, and not saying a word. you’re alive but you’re about to face issues larger than you’re ready for. it feels like he might never escape, like he may never rid himself of being tormented.

a voice tears him from his thoughts, “so, what can i do to win?” lux asks eagerly, his hands are clasped and his elbows are on his knees- eyeing finnick and mags.

finnick is solely not in a fit state to humor his excitement. looking to his lap with a sigh then pinching the bridge of his nose. “that’s a broad question.”

lux can’t sense the bitterness in his words, it almost seemed unprofessional of finnick. your district-mate mutters soemthing about how he’s already well equipped to kill, “water? what if it’s dry land?”

mags gets up from her seat, coughing- off to the bathroom. lux then splays his hands on his jean clad knees, and pushes himself up, irritated at the lack of response.

you can’t help but agree, if you’d really cared that much- if you were truly that desperate to win, and had been asking for advice to no avail, you’d be indignant as well.

one out of sight, finnick looks straight at you. your back is leaning into the cushion of the couch, hands fiddling. he wants to know where you are right now- that sinking dazed look is in your eyes, all he wants is to throw the rope and get you out of your head. “they love him already.”

you snap your head at his words, he doesn’t say your name- but it’s the first time you’ve heard his voice speak to yours in years. his words are covering the sweetness in his voice. you take this chance to study his face, a lot has changed- you just wished it wasn’t in these circumstances that you’d see your best friend again.

he sighs, “y/n.” finnicks eyes are pleading with yours now, “focus, if you can’t beat him, join him. we can’t have him being district fours favorite.”

your eyebrows furrow, you want to scream at him, it doesn’t feel right simply speaking to him- it felt too soon, but so long. “i’m sorry.” you let out a sigh, “can you speak in simpler terms, the poverty back home has given me brain rot- mr odair.” the ridicule in your tone has him seething, knuckles white as he grips the chair.

you’d never been one to simply forgive, you always held grudges, but never with him- it never should’ve been that way. finnick didn’t know what he expected when he thought he could simply prance into your life once more and beg for you to do as he says. he should’ve known you’d come up with a million reasons as to why he thinks he’s better than you, he knew you’d tricked yourself into thinking that he was on some sort of capitol high horse after winning.

but it’s what you’d do, what you’d always done. as if you were in a constant state of survival- this only scared him. finnick knew he’d make you a winner, no matter what it would take. he had nothing left to give to the capitol, his dignity, his body, his mind, but he swore he’d get you out of this- though he also knew the victors life would tear you to shreds.

you didn’t want to treat him this way, it was only the way he looked at you like he was high and mighty. so egotistical, nothing like the boy you once knew. as if his mind was superior to yours, like he was too snotty to be in your presence.

he sits up in his chair, running a hand through his hair before leaning close to you. “i’m just trying to help you.”

you knew this, yet you couldn’t take it. his advice burned your ears, it made you feel small. to have him try to teach you, after all that’s happened.

after a few beats of your eyes latching onto the ground- neglecting eye contact as he desperately tried to gauge your interest, he stood up, almost disappointedly. you supposed this was him turning in for the night.

the sceneries whizzed past you in the window, greens and brows in a haze. you just wanted to be back home, on the beach- far far away from the capitol. though like many things, it seemed too good to be true.

you couldn’t help but think about finnick, how all you needed was him right now- his laugh, the way he’d always know what to say. but you didn’t recognize him, the times you’d forget you weren’t friends, or even civil haunted you.

how did either of you forgive yourselves for letting things become this way, to have gone from a connection you were born to have built, to being unable to speak.

your mind blames him, blamed the fact that he’d changed and forgot to tell you, the fact that he’d slammed the door in your face. but your conscious thoughts blamed yourself, for not understanding what he’d gone through, for not being more patient.

and so you’d close your eyes, thinking of the times finnick had helped your mom cook fish- insisting to her that it’s impossible to burn fish. he wore a sweet smile then, his hair was shorter- he looked more comfortable in his own skin. you wondered when that had all changed, when things had been turned this way.

ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

a/n: this was just a preface! not an actual chapter. i actually hate this with my whole heart but i needed to get this out of the way so the story would make sense. trust they’ll work it out !!

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