Prompt: Icing

This is a take on Finnick's background after the games for the July One Shot hosted by the Starvation Forum. I'm re-attempting present tense for the second time so please bear with me if my tensing is strange. I hope you enjoy the story!

Resident Heartbreaker

Finnick's POV

They say when you take a bite out of a cake; your tongue will experience a melt-in-your-mouth moment filled with sweetness – flavors dancing in your mouth as you savor the soft crumbly inside or the creamy filling.

However, when I was younger, my family was always too poor to be able to afford cakes like these. That's why I just had assumed that they were all sweet. Each and every cake in the local bakery window was always different, but I assumed that each and every one of them would be just as mouthwatering as the next.

The most intriguing about them was what the baker did with the icing – he rippled it in some cakes, smoothed it out in others and created lifelike representations of objects for few. Icing was so versatile – just the idea that something that was completely made out of sugar could create such beautiful things was simply magic.

So after so many years of my life admiring these delicious cakes, I was finally given an opportunity to taste one on the train to the Capitol when I was reaped for the 65th Hunger Games. I didn't know whether having this opportunity was worth risking my life, but hell, I didn't seem to care at the time. They were just as delicious as I had thought for so many years, my taste buds salivating for more.

When I was proclaimed Victor, my family was given a luxurious home in the Victor's Village, an endless amount of food and so much cash I would be able to buy out the bakery. But, if I bought out the bakery there'd be no baker to bake my cakes now would there? Therefore, I simply visited the bakery frequently and soon become their one and only regular customer.

Two years on, living life as a Victor is probably the best life one could ever have. The nights are the worst though, sleep always replays yourself and the other tributes spearing, shooting, slicing, cutting, sawing, killing. Your hands constantly covered in the blood of people you used to know. But after a few years you get used to it. You get used to short nights, you get used to hating sleep. Your body grows accustomed to this routine and soon enough you're operating as your normal self except you have more time.

I only live with my parents – as I am an only child – and I feel like the Capitol has finally left my small family alone. The district isn't too poor and I still go fishing because it's the only part of me that reminds me that I'm home. I get home that day, pushing open the door to my splendid home. My father is sitting back comfortably in an armchair, flicking through the miniscule amount of television channels before settling on a fishing show and commenting on everything. My mother is on the phone with a frown, muttering a 'yes sir' every now and again. She gives one look at me and ushers me to answer the phone.

"Hello?" I say.

"Ah, Finnick Odair," The man on the line says. "I hope you haven't forgotten about me already."

My family rarely gets calls since no one else in the district has phones, so I try to recall whom the man on the line is.

"May I ask who this is, sir?" I try to ask politely.

"So you have forgotten," he says. "Well, allow me to remind you. Who is it that gave you this beautiful home? Who is it that gave you fame?"

Then it strikes through me. President Snow. "What is it that you need, Snow? Surely your reign over Panem is sufficient." I hiss.

"Oh I don't need anything, Finnick. I just want things. And right now, I want you. I want you to come to Capitol."

"And what makes you think that I'll do just that?"

"Your parents, they're safe right now aren't they?" I fall silent. "If you don't do what I say, both of your parents will suffer a long, a excruciatingly painful and gruesome death. You convinced yet?"

His voice makes me shiver as I look towards my mother's concerned face and my father enjoying his life in the new home. Not having to worry about every cent we spend. Not having to painstakingly wake up every morning at the crack of dawn to catch enough fish to sell. I already lost so much by entering the Hunger Games. I don't want to lose the last bit of flesh and blood I have left with me.

"Fine." I snarl.

"I knew you'd comply!" Yeah, like I had a choice. "A train will arrive in your district in an hour. Remember, you're my slave. You do whatever I say, or else your parents are dead." Then, the line goes flat.

＊＊＊

After much reluctance from my parents, I board the train and head down to the Capitol. All the scenery that I once admired on the way to the Hunger Games and the Victory Tour is now nothing more than dull background flashing past my eyes. The cakes are no longer sweet; all I get is this bitter aftertaste. To rid of the horrible pastiness in my mouth, I grab a few sugar cubes and suck on them. They seem to be the only thing that's still sweet in this ugly world.

When I finally arrive at President Snow's mansion, he summons me up to his office. He swivels around on his large padded chair and stares at me with those cold eyes.

"Well, Finnick. Welcome back to the Capitol," he says, pointing to the seat opposite his desk. I reluctantly sit down. "You're sixteen now Finnick. So it's about time you begin giving back to the one place that has given you everything."

"You killed my friends, my extended family. All I have left are my parents and now you've forbidden me to see them too. What else do you want to take away from me?" I growl.

"No, no! I'm not taking anything away from you my dear Finnick," he laughs and spins around in his chair, pulling a cigar from his pocket and lighting it. "You're a handsome man, Finnick. That's what got you through the Games."

"So? That has nothing to do with what's happening now."

"You are to show all of Panem that only the Capitol get what they wish for."

"What are you asking of me?" I clench my teeth together.

"You should be informed that you have many fans here in the Capitol. Let them have a piece of you. Make them happy. Do this, and your poor parents will be spared."

"You sick man," I growl. "You can't expect me to give myself to the people who tried to kill me for entertainment!"

"Yes, in fact I can actually. Remember what's on the line," he chuckles to himself and waves at the guard. "You may be dismissed. Remember, Finnick – you wouldn't want your poor parents to be involved in an accident now do you?"

As the guard pushes me out I grab a handful of sugar cubes from a bowl on his desk and shove them into my mouth. A limousine pulls up in front of the mansion and I step inside its luxury to find twenty screaming females. I grit my teeth together before pulling a flashing smile and brushing my golden hair back with my hand.

"How are we today ladies?" I say in a smooth voice. They squeal in reply as one begins to button down my shirt.

＊＊＊

"You're so manly, Finnick Odair," One tall female says as she traces her finger down my chest. Another female is walking around without a stitch of clothing on, holding a champagne glass between two fingers. The only female in the room with clothes on walks past holding a tray of wine as I call out to her.

"What… what time is it?" I ask, raising my hand up to my forehead. My head is pounding as I push a girl off of me to stand up.

"Four in the morning," she replies. I look around the room. All the girls from the limousine are standing around the room with little or no clothing on. I look back at the lady – whom I'm guessing is the waitress – and back at all the females who were all staring at me in the room. "How many…?" I mumble.

"Me." The one in the corner of the room with the auburn hair raises her hand.

"Me too." Another shrugs. More call out and to my disbelief, I've done almost every girl in the room.

"This is against my morals…" I mumble to myself, pushing my hair out of my face. I notice my jeans on the floor and look down to the lower half of my body. "Oh god." I swipe my jeans off the floor and fix it back onto my body. The ladies all stop to look at me. Just as I was going to leave the room, the waitress stops me at the door.

"A note," she says, passing it to me. "For you."

I look at her in dismay as she gives me a look to tell me that I should open it. I peel open the envelope and pull out a card with a few simple words written with scripted handwriting.

"Remember what's on the line, Finnick."

President Snow. I swear I will destroy that man if that's the last thing I do.

I gaze at the waitress who holds her hand out in gesture to take the envelope back. I hand it to her and my parents cross my mind. For them. I think as I make my way back into the room filled with women.

＊＊＊

Two years later

I stand in front of the richest house in all of District 7. Its wooden door is carved neatly and precisely as I examine its intricate details before raising my right hand to knock on it. However, I am held back by the growing guilt I have bottled up inside of me. I lower my hand and look at the boxed cake I was holding and feel absolutely stupid. For everything I've done to her, did I really think she was going to somehow accept a sudden gift?

A cake – supposedly a 'sweet' gesture with 'sweet' icing… it's something my tongue can no longer familiarize itself with. It was something I used to love eating… but now all I get is this bitter, pasty texture in my mouth so often that I begin to think that it couldn't just be a coincidence that the baker messes it up so many times.

It's been a total two years since I've been a puppet for President Snow. It was sick. But, I learned to get used to it. I've been saving up for my master plan to overthrow him. You see, he never gave me specifics on how I should please my fans, so I ask for payment. Payment in secrets about the inner workings of the Capitol. Secrets about President Snow.

However, on several occasions like today, he sends me out to the districts to be what he calls a 'heartbreaker'. I have to woo a specific girl he picks out for me – most of the time it'll be someone of some sort of significance – and then absolutely crush their heart when I know I've won it.

Doing this makes me feel absolutely horrible inside. These are people, people who watch their family, friends and neighbors die every year. They aren't those sadistic people back at the Capitol. They are pure hearts, and I'm the one that breaks them. Stupidly though, after every single one of these outings I leave a cake on their doorstep. President Snow thinks it's just something to continue to reel them in but in actual fact it's supposed to be a 'sorry' gift.

So currently I'm standing stupidly outside this house before I decide to just leave the cake on the doormat, ring the doorbell and walk off. It happens like this every single time.

A note is delivered to me that evening with the details to my next assignment.

My resident heartbreaker,

Well done yet again. A train will arrive in half an hour to take you back to District Four. However, you may not visit your family. If I find you make any contact with them, you know what happens.

Visit your regular bakery and talk to the baker.

Signed,

President Snow

District 4. I haven't even stepped foot back in that place since I left two years ago. I wonder what's changed…

The train arrives promptly on schedule and I board it without looking back. Another heart broken for the safety of my parents… I wish they could understand…

A few hours later I step foot back in my homeland. Nothing much has changed. The usual hustle bustle is about, with everyone packing up their market stalls for the day. I walk up to the bakery and admire the cakes momentarily before pushing the door open and stepping inside.

"Sorry! We're out of brea-"

"It's me, Finnick." I say, watching the baker turn around to see me.

"Finnick ma boy! Where have you been? My cakes have been rotting in the corner without you around!" he says, grinning. "Someone said that you would be arriving back sometime soon. I was told to give you this." The baker hands me a small box. "It's a cake, but it's especially ordered for you. Thankfully I baked it today so it's still fresh."

I nod and thank him. "I might be back tomorrow," I call back. "No promises though."

"You're welcome anytime, Finnick."

I walk past my house purposefully, glancing through the window to see my parents as frail as ever. All I want to do… is just… run in and tell them that I'm here… Everything I'm doing is for their sake.

Sitting at a park bench, I open the box and see etched in icing is a name I've never come across before. My next target.

Annie Cresta.

Ahahaha so it was supposed to come out MUCH better than this, but with the time constraints I had to deal with with homework, tests and stuff, this is all I could churn out. If you'd like me to write what I planned to happen after this, please mention it in a review so maybe I can continue it when I get around to it!

And while I'm at it, I'll probably re-write this... the prompt completely stuffed me over. ):