18+ SMUT

Chapter four finnick odair (smut)

written by cassayeee on a03

Finnick Odair is your mentor for the 70th Hunger Games and you can't help but find comfort in the man who is in your life solely to make sure you don't die

The 70th Hunger Games, ready to begin.

Your name, reaped.

All hope, lost.

Voices flickered in and out of your consciousness as you made your way up to the stage. Of course, this happens to you in your last year of eligibility, why wouldn't it? Time sped and slowed as it pleased, having no regard for your ticking thoughts. Nor did it care for your unwillingness to let it pass.

This can't be happening. This isn't happening. Why is this happening?

You weren't a Career. You had no special talents besides swimming and spearfishing. Swimming. How for fucks sake was that going to get you through the Games? News flash: it wouldn't. Maybe spearfishing? But that was hardly a skill that could contend with previous victors. And it definitely wouldn't help you against the Careers.

I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I'm going to die.

As you curled into the dark spot floating at the edge of your vision, you barely heard the name of the male tribute announced beside you. Isaac? Ethan? Ian? Why does it matter anyway? You weren't going to make it out of here. This was it. The ocean was draining, and you were being sucked down with it.

You barely noticed the Peacekeepers usher you off the stage and saying goodbye to your family was now a flicker of a memory. Siblings would never see you again. You would never be able to make them laugh in your family home or try to eat your mother's insufferable cooking again. You would never be able to brush off fishing duty to go swimming with Annie or visit the town tavern with her again.

Oh, Annie.

Best friends since birth, the two of you were practically inseparable. Many of your other friends and family joked that the two of you must have been a soul split because of how alike you were. You did everything together, but the shining break in this storm was the fact that she wasn't standing where you were. That your siblings weren't. If it had to be any of you, you were glad that it was yourself.

But, fuck – you wish it would have been anyone else's name picked out of the grim bowl.

---

Stepping foot on that train was probably the hardest decision of your life. Not that it was much of a decision, really. If you wouldn't have gotten on yourself, the Peacekeepers would have gladly thrown you on there themselves.

You couldn't say that you were too impressed with the interior of it. Honestly, it just looks like the Capitol threw up all over it. Yes, your family home was nicer than most of those in the other Districts due to the wealth of the area, but you didn't care about all of that. The people made a house a home, and this train was nothing more than a moving coffin.

As your Capitol lapdog, Jorge, showed you and your fellow tribute into the lounge car, a head of bronze hair caught your eye. His arms were spread wide on either side of him as he lounged on the travel sofa – seeming to be as content as a summer's day. You could almost laugh at the absurdity of it. But, before that mocking gaggle could make its way out of your throat, the man before you turned.

Oh, shit.

Finnick Odair. You needed no introduction of his, everyone in District 4 was aware of him after his victory in the 64th Games. Youngest ever and all that, you had to respect him for making it through. What you couldn't respect, however, was his enjoyment of his Capitol fame. He appeared on screen at least five times a month at some prestigious party, the arm candy to some Capitol prissy who you really couldn't bother to care about. Why should you when they laugh and cheer for children to die for their amusement? It was absolutely disgusting.