Oh look at that, I finally posted the better ending. Surprised? I hope so lol
Honestly I didn't know where this ending was gonna go, and I lost a lot of brain cells thinking of dialogue so cut me some slack please.
I was also watching some Alexander Hamilton whilst creating because why not
TW: Swearing, uh...maybe violence? Not sure
Hoping to go for some fluff at the end, not sure how it'll turn out.
ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥThe bullet shot through the satin material of the pillowcase, and probably through the mattress. The sound was silenced by the mattress, so there's a chance that gunpowder will be stuck to it.
And your victim? Nowhere to be found. As if he merely teleported.
And suddenly, you felt your hands behind your back as you were held in a defenceless position, your gun halfway across the room. Shit.
Your eyes widened, shocked by the speed and how alert Finnick was. Even after staying up hours later. Was he really a light sleeper?
You let out a slight grunt before trying to force Finnick to carry all your weight, which seemed to catch him off guard for a moment. You used the opportunity to free yourself and kick Finnick hard in the stomach.
This wasn't what you were planning, so your options were getting limited. Usually, your victims didn't fight back like this, and even if they did, your plan didn't fail. Not until now. And you were stupid enough to only bring your gun, and nothing else.
You could try and go to the gun, but that would leave you in a vulnerable position, and probably would get pinned once more. Your only options were to knock him out or strangle him.
Let's just hope Finnick has rope to use for the evidence.
You waited for Finnick to make a move, before moving to the side and sending a quick jab to the side. Though, Finnick didn't seem to flinch. You mentally facepalmed, you almost forgot you were facing a Victor. A very strong one at that.
Adrenaline was pumping through both of you, yet you were both experienced. You had to control the flow.
You sent a punch, he avoided, he retaliated, you dodged. It continued for quite some time.
That is, until you sent a punch at the wrong place, at the wrong time. Finnick caught your fist and twisted you around before pinning you to the ground, pressing his knee to your back whilst holding your fists with a firm grip. You struggled under his grip before realizing it was futile.
"Damnit," You muttered under your breath, clearly annoyed. "Curse you being a Victor." Finnick ignored your comment.
"Who sent you?" Finnick asked, calm, and collected. His face was tense than usual, though you didn't sense any anger from his words.
Although his Victor training paid off, Finnick himself was surprised upon sensing you in his room uninvited. And after realizing you were here to kill him, it was a double shocker. (Though, he wouldn't deny that your motive was much better than...other girls...)
"I don't have to tell you anything." You responded, your tone cold and bitter, unlike the kinder tone you used in the daylight.
"Well, you do." Finnick said. "Because it's either you tell me, or you end up dying. Which would you prefer?"
You stayed silent for a minute. Debating the positive and negative effects of telling him. You realized that if you'd like your life to be spared, you might as well tell him.

YOU ARE READING
The Hunger Games Imagines
FanfictionDo you love the Hunger Games? Ever wondered what it would be like if YOU were with your favourite boys? Well fear no more! I got you covered! Updates will be very frequent, so feel free to pop this in your library and start reading! I do not own any...