#and haymitch will be more useful as a mentor | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ilguna · 24 days ago

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☼ odds are (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; you and Finnick have never seen eye to eye, despite both being close friends with Johanna. it isn't until you save his life in the arena, does he see you different.

warnings; swearing, weapon use, blood, ehhh gore, death, drug mention, kinda starvation mention, suicide (mags), puke mention, the usual hunger games stuff.

wc; 9.6k

If there’s one thing that you’ve learned so far about the other district’s personalities since becoming a mentor, it’s that District Four produces the most annoying people by far. You don’t know if they’re born that way, or if it’s the water they drink, but they take that top spot without a close runner up.

Which is crazy, considering people like Enobaria and Gloss exist. They don’t know when to stop even when it’s obvious, yet they can be more mature than Finnick Odair is half the time.

He has the ego the size of a hovercraft and he just uses it to do whatever he wants to whoever he wants. He thinks that if he can smother someone enough, they’ll back down and let him have his way. Arguing with Finnick is truly like talking to someone who always assumes they’re right just because they’re older than you.

Except, in this case, it’s because he’s been mentoring longer, since he won ten years ago. It gives him seniority in calling the shots, or it does in his mind, at least.

He wants to be the main ally that corrales Katniss and Peeta into doing what’s best in the arena. The problem with that is Katniss doesn’t like Finnick, which will make it a huge ordeal trying to get her to do anything for him. He seems to think that as long as Peeta trusts him, Katniss will follow.

Only, Peeta’s not a complete idiot and he knows how to think for himself. Beyond that, in a setting where there’s going to be twenty-two other tributes that have also won the Hunger Games in their own unique ways—Peeta’s going to follow Katniss’s lead. There’s not a single doubt in your mind that he’s going to let her take the reins and trust her to protect him in dangerous situations.

So, in the end, while Peeta might have his own opinions on what he’d like to do, he’s going to value Katniss’s opinion first.

Finnick can’t seem to understand that. It doesn’t matter how you explain it to him, he doesn’t want you to be right. Even with Johanna standing here, telling him that you’re not wrong, he refuses to believe it.

“You’re just going to make her mad.” You tell him again, throwing your hand up. “We all saw the way she looked at you yesterday, and today she’s gone out of her way to make sure she can’t talk to you.”

Finnick glances over in Katniss and Peeta’s direction. They’re on the far side of the Training Center, sitting with Cecelia from District Eight. This morning’s the last chance you get to train before the private session with the Gamemakers in the afternoon. From what you’ve been watching, they’re taking it easy.

“We already knew she wasn’t going to like me.”

“Does it have anything to do with the way you approached her during the parade?” You ask back, tilting your head. “You’re terrible at first impressions.”

“I am not.” Finnick’s face twists.

“Yeah, and that’s why we’re friends, right?” Your tone sarcastic. “I’m not asking for your permission, I’m going to tell Haymitch that you’ll meet up with us later on down the line.”

Finnick shakes his head. “That makes no sense. You are not a strong fighter, I need to be there to help with Katniss.”

“Katniss doesn’t need help!” You exclaim quietly. “What Katniss needed is someone she can trust, and that’s obviously me. I just spent the past two days getting to know her. She doesn’t want to be around either of you.”

You then place your hand on Johanna’s shoulder, but she gives you a shrug. “I don’t care. She’s going to have to deal with me sooner or later. I have no preference.”

“You have basically no fighting experience, all you’ll do is get in her way.” Finnick tells you.

“Excuse me, I do know how to fight. I set the highest score when it came to hand-to-hand combat with a weapon.”

“When?” Finnick asks, not believing you.

“Today.”

“Bullshit.”

“Finnick, she’s not lying.” Johanna sighs. “And that’s besides the point. We can’t keep (Y/n) out of the plan just because you can’t get along with her. She’s right about Katniss.”

“I can and will keep her out of the fight.” Finnick tells Johanna, causing your face to scrunch up. “Who’s going to get to the Cornucopia first, you or me?”

“I’m not airheaded enough to think it’s me.” You snap back. “But—”

“Katniss knows how to swim, we saw it last year. She’s going to get there second. What stops me then?”

“Me, when I get my fucking hands around your neck.” You point at him. “What happens on the off-chance you chase her off? What’s your big idea then?”

“Haymitch is going to get me something to signal to her that we’re already allies.” Finnick shrugs. “I bet he didn’t talk to you about anything like that.”

“He doesn’t have to.” You laugh. “That’s the entire point. I don’t need him to signal to her about anything. She picked me as an ally on that first day. You can’t say the same. It says a lot about your character.”

“My character?” He’s unimpressed.

“No one likes you!” You shout at him.

“Okay,” Johanna says. “Let’s talk with Haymitch tonight, see what he has to say about the situation.”

“Fine, but I’m not spending the rest of my day with this idiot.” You tell her.

—

Monkeys.

At first, it was only a couple that were hanging above Peeta, who couldn’t be more oblivious. Now, a troop of them have gathered in the twilight in the time it’s taken you, Finnick and Katniss to assess the situation. They’ve completely appeared out of thin air, gathering on open branches.

And they’re all watching Peeta.

You eye Finnick, wondering what he’s thinking on how he wants to handle this. After all, he’s been directed to take charge in situations where Katniss and Peeta’s lives are in danger. Or rather, he asked Haymitch to make it official, because he couldn’t live with the idea that you might be the better fit.

Either way, there’s several different approaches you could take. Does he want to go to Peeta and guide him out of the jungle to make sure he keeps his head down or will that trigger the monkeys? You could try gathering around Peeta and set off the monkeys on purpose to ensure you’re in control, because they’re bound to go off anyway… right?

Or maybe it’s a better idea to lure Peeta out of the jungle and hope for the best?

Katniss makes a decision before Finnick does, carefully arming her bow with two arrows, just in case a fight shows itself. This causes Finnick to nervously adjust the trident in his hand, not ready for what she’s planning on doing.

You, on the other hand, trust her.

“Peeta.” Katniss’s voice is calm, but there’s a slight edge to her voice if you listen closely. “I need your help with something.”

“Okay, just a minute. I think I’ve just about got it.” Peeta tells her, fiddling with the tree so he can put the spile in the bark. “Yes, there. Have you got the spile?”

“I do. But we’ve found something you’d better take a look at,” Katniss continues. “Only move toward us quietly, so you don’t startle it.”

Katniss has decided to lure Peeta out, then. It’s not a bad plan. With how the monkeys are tracking Peeta’s every movement, anything mildly offensive could cause them to attack. And since eye contact is a form of aggression, he needs to keep his head down.

Peeta turns to face the three of you, panting from trying to drill into the tree with the awl that Mags had passed over before she died. “Okay.” He agrees, not an ounce of hesitation.

He begins to come in your direction, but he’s not at all being quiet whatsoever. This is expected, he wasn’t last year, either. He’s not used to hunting or gently shuffling your feet through leaves. He worked in a bakery, carrying heavy bags over his shoulder.

It doesn’t matter, as long as the monkeys are holding their position—and they are—despite the amount of noise he’s making. He’s only five yards from the beach, where you’re standing, when he finally feels how off the air is. His eyes dart up for only a split second, but that’s all it takes.

Their shrieking fills the air, almost causing you to cover your ears at the pitch. The monkeys launch themselves off the branches and aim straight for Peeta, ready to kill. They’re too quick for your eyes, making them one blur. They slide down vines, jump from the trees with teeth bared, hacked raised and claws as sharp as knives.

You jerk forward, drawing your sword back to swing as soon as you get into range.

“Mutts!” Katniss blurts, in case you haven’t figured it out by now.

Katniss and Finnick take off after you. You swing hard, right at the first monkey that thinks they can get their paws on Peeta. The blade cuts right through fur, slicing skin right open, blood flying everywhere. The mutt collapses, struggling to breathe.

It’s just the first of many.

You move on, drawing Peeta in closer to protect him easier. Katniss shoots her arrows two at a time, taking down twice the amount of mutts you can. Finnick tries to keep up with her pace by spearing several of them at once and flinging them aside. Peeta can’t do much with his knife, but you’re able to keep them off of him with just your sword.

The fight grows harder the longer it goes on as you try to see through the darkness, breathing in the cloud of blood and must. Even as you end up back to back with your allies, it doesn’t get any easier.

“Peeta!” Katniss suddenly shouts. “Your arrows!”

Peeta stops swinging, briefly looking over at Katniss to see what she means. In an instant, he begins to slide out of his sheath so that he can hand it over to her. He doesn’t even wait to make sure the coast is clear before he does.

“Peeta!” You blurt.

You swing at a mutt that’s already coming at you, catching the sight of another one flying out of a tree, heading in his direction. For a moment, you think you have just enough time to fling the monkey off your sword to save him, but the mutt at the end of your blade grabs your wrist, yanking you out of the formation.

You’re thrown into the jungle, a blur of green and brown passing by, until you hit the ground. You roll for a couple of feet, and then come to a stop, staring at the leaves above your head, trying to get a hold of your air. There’s a dull pain on the right side of your body from the impact.

And then you get back up.

Katniss is running for Peeta, hands outreached to grab him before the mutt does, but she’s too far.

A body materializes from one of the trees, screaming, jumping in front of him just in time. The mutt’s claws swing inward pulling—who you believe to be—the morphling from District Six in for a deadly hug as it sinks its canines into her chest.

You’ve managed to regroup with them now. Peeta wiggles out of the sheath, letting it fall to the dirt so he can bury his knife into the monkey’s back. He stabs it repeatedly until it finally releases its jaw, kicking it away. Katniss retrieves her arrows, loading her bow, waiting for another attack.

You turn to look at the monkeys in the trees, curious to see what they’re doing. They stare back at you, unmoving, observing you the same way. Beside you, Finnick is breathing heavy, trident resting on the ground. He must think that the fight is over, then.

“Come on, then! Come on!” Peeta shouts at the mutts, trying to egg them on.

They seem disinterested in continuing though, satisfied with the life they’ve taken, retreating. They disappear into the darkness of the jungle silently, and even though it appears they’re gone, it doesn’t feel like it.

“Get her,” Katniss says, she’s talking to Peeta. “We’ll cover you.”

You eye the morphling, who’s audibly wheezing, not quite dead yet, but she will be soon. Peeta carefully lifts her, turning to leave the jungle, the beach being a few feet away. Finnick motions for Katniss to follow Peeta, you don’t even bother to argue with him about who goes next after that.

There are several orange bodies on the ground on the way out. You step over them, wary of the possibility that they could be pretending to be dead. As soon as you step foot onto sand, a shiver runs up your spine, causing your neck to shrink into your shoulders.

You tense too harshly, the pain in your side returns. You can’t help the gasp that escapes you as you reach to grab your exposed skin. Since you no longer have a jumpsuit to protect you because of the poisonous fog, several cuts and scrapes have been inflicted across your skin.

“Cold?” Finnick asks, it sounds like he’s teasing. Before you can answer, he keeps going, “Or does your body hurt because you couldn’t handle some hand-to-hand combat?”

You look over your shoulder to see him, eyes narrowed into slits. “You think you’re so funny.”

“What about my observation makes you think that I’m joking?” He asks, coming to a stop. “You just proved me right.”

“What are you talking about?” You ask, face twisting. “Prove you right, how? We’ve barely said anything to each other since the Cornucopia.”

“You have no fighting experience.” He tells you with a straight face. “You’re a danger to the alliance.”

You press your lips together, staring at him, holding back the urge to scream profanities in his face.

What would he have liked you to do at that moment? You were occupied with a mutt, and Peeta just straight-up abandoned his job to give Katniss a sheath without thinking twice. You were off your game because you didn’t know what to do with a monkey flying at him, while trying to defend yourself at the same time.

You’ll give it to Finnick, you made an error which could’ve easily have resulted in your death, but it didn’t. What he doesn’t realize is that you will learn from it, you don’t often make the same mistakes twice. You’re not a fucking child, either.

“You forget I was invited to the alliance.” You tell him, choosing not to engage in his behavior. “I don’t know why I bothered responding to you.” You start to move away from him. “All you’re capable of doing is criticizing people.”

You turn away from him, heading to Katniss and Peeta, who are hovering over the morphling girl. They have cut away the jumpsuit over her chest, revealing the four puncture wounds from the mutt’s fangs. There’s blood slowly running out of them, making the situation appear better than it is.

She’s gasping for air, desperate for every lungful, holding onto Katniss’s hands, unable to control her twitching. A part of you wonders if she accidentally got caught up in the fog, but that can’t be the case. It has to be withdrawal, considering the green shade of her skin, her prominent cheekbones. She watches the clouds in the sky blankly, trying to hold on.

“I’ll watch the trees.” Finnick says, right before turning away from the scene.

You stare at the back of his head, and then turn your attention back to the morphling. Peeta moves to be on the other side of her, crouching down to gently stroke her hair, speaking quietly. “With my paint box at home, I can make every color imaginable. Pink. As pale as a baby’s skin. Or as deep as rhubarb. Green like spring grass. Blue that shimmers like ice on water.”

The morphling is completely encapsulated by his words.

“One time, I spent three days mixing paint until I found the right shade for sunlight on white fur. You see, I kept thinking it was yellow, but it was much more than that. Layers of all sorts of color. One by one.” Peeta murmurs.

Rustling of leaves drags you out of what he’s saying, you look over in time to catch the back of Finnick’s body, heading back into the jungle. You give a glance to Katniss, who seems to be in her own world at the moment, and decide that they can protect themselves for a moment while you have a conversation with Finnick.

You head straight in without an ounce of hesitation, following the sound of muttering, leading you straight to him. He’s picking the arrows out of the grass, swinging them out periodically to rid them of the mutt blood they’re soaked in.

“Listen,” You start, Finnick pauses long enough to look at you, before going back to what he was doing. “I get it, you don’t like me. The feeling’s mutual. I don’t need you up my ass about every decision I make. So, worry about yourself, and I will worry about me.”

“I’m not up your ass.” He scoffs. “I was pointing out what happened. You can’t fight, it’s a fact.”

“It’s not.” You shake your head. “While I was trying to kill the mutt, I was figuring out how to save Peeta, there was a monkey—”

Finnick holds up his hand, cutting you off. “I don’t need your excuse.”

You tilt your head at him, lips parted, actually speechless. You knew Finnick’s personality resembled a dumpster, but you’ve never experienced it yourself. It’s always been second hand retellings from your friends.

“Anything else?” Finnick asks after a moment of silence.

You’re stewing again. It’s insane how easy it would be to tear him down from the horse he sits on, but you can’t afford ruining the alliance. With how he’s acting, you wouldn’t put it past him to throw in the towel and tell you to do it yourself. Which you can do, it’s just a matter of whether or not you’d like to at this point.

While you’re glowering at him, thinking of a response that doesn’t end in the two of you fighting, something moves from behind his head. You take a step to the side, eyes searching the ground, but you quickly realize that’s not where it is. It’s up in the trees.

“What?” Finnick asks.

“We should leave the jungle.” You tell him, not wanting to mention it in case your eyes are playing tricks. “It’s not safe here.”

Finnick digs his heels in. “Now you’re being paranoid.”

He turns around, going back to rummaging through the greenery to find the arrows for Katniss. He’s already got a good handful already, does she really need the rest?

A branch dips, your eyes flicker to it.

Even though the sun is finally rising, the light hasn’t quite reached this part of the arena yet. You pat your hip for your sword, afraid of what’s to come, and realize that you left it out on the beach with the Twelve tributes.

“I’m serious, let’s go.” You tell him.

“I don’t care.” He says back, inching closer to the tree.

A hand creeps out of the darkness, a furry hand wrapping around the branch further down, as if preparing itself to launch at him.

You bite the inside of your cheek. You can’t lure Finnick out the same way that Katniss did to Peeta. And you can’t fight your way out of this situation without a weapon. As nice as it would be to turn around and leave him in here, knowing what’s behind him, you’d never be able to live with it.

“Finnick, just trust me this once. Katniss has enough arrows.”

Finnick stands, the movement is too quick, causing the monkey mutt to jerk into the light, revealing itself too soon.

“If you’re scared, you can go back to the beach, (Y/n).”

“Finnick, get down.”

He takes a step toward you, mouth opened to continue what he was saying. You watch in horror as the mutt’s body tenses, getting ready to attack Finnick. You rush at him, the same way the morphling did to Peeta.

“Get out of the way!” You shout, jumping to tackle him.

Finnick turns in time to dodge you and the monkey, putting you into each other’s path, forcing you to collide. The monkey’s claws dig into your skin as it throws you down, your head flying back. A sharp pain strikes your skull, your vision immediately going black.

A rough hand grabs the underside of your arm, jolting you awake. You blink quickly, trying to get rid of the blurry vision as you’re harshly brought back to reality. The person tries to pull you to your feet, but your legs aren’t ready for the weight. Your knees buckle, hand grabbing the shoulder of whoever it is to steady yourself.

The throbbing in the back of your head begins, feeling like a giant headache. You wince, gritting your teeth, pressing the heel of your hand to your temple. The back of your neck feels wet and sticky.

“Can you stand?” An irritated voice asks.

It’s Finnick, face twisted into a hard expression. The grip you have on his shoulder loosens, you lock your knees to keep from falling over. You’re trembling though, you can see it when you let go of him completely.

“Yes, I’ve got it.”

You reach back and dab your hand against the sore area on your head. Your fingers are coated in blood, shining in the sunlight that manages to escape the leaves. A sigh leaves your lips, hand falling at your side.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Finnick asks.

You shrug your shoulders. “There was a monkey in the trees.”

“You couldn’t have told me that?”

“The same way we could’ve told Peeta?” You counter, and then motion to the jungle. “I didn’t know how many there were. I left my sword on the beach.”

“Another great idea of yours.” He says.

You don’t say anything to him at first, turning to go back to the beach. Just before you hit the treeline, you murmur, “A thank you would be nice.”

Whether or not Finnick actually hears you is a mystery, because he doesn’t respond.

Katniss and Peeta are sitting together in the sand, side by side, looking out at the water. Your sword is tucked at Katniss’s side, right next to her bow. You come to a stop a foot or so behind them.

Finnick passes you, dropping the arrows in the sand. “Thought you might want these.”

“Thanks.” Katniss says. “Where’s (Y/n)?”

“I’m here.” You tell her.

You continue dragging your feet through the sand, wanting to go to the water to clean the blood out of your hair before it dries. Katniss comes to join you soon after, mostly to clean her weapons. When she sees that you’re having trouble, she carefully massages the blood out.

When you’re done, Katniss goes to get moss from the jungle to dry off her arrows. You sit in the sand with your sword, haphazardly playing with the blade.

“Where did they go?” Katniss asks.

“The bodies? We don’t know exactly. The vines shifted and they were gone.” Finnick says.

Katniss hums. The four of you sit on the beach in silence, staring at the water, watching the sky come to life. Katniss starts to scratch her arm, and then stops suddenly, looking at you, and then to the boys. You follow her gaze curiously, and find them scratching at their faces.

It’s the scabs from the fog, Katniss’s skin is covered in them, so is half of Peeta’s body and Finnick’s face. You, however, not so much. You were able to stay ahead of the fog, you thought to guide them out with the best possible path. Still, Peeta has trouble with his prosthetic leg and he needed support and…

Finnick never should have asked Katniss to carry Mags down the hill. You knew as soon as the words came out of his mouth that he was making a mistake. Katniss doesn’t have that sort of strength, she’s a skinny girl. She might’ve put on some weight since her Games, but it basically replenished what was taken in the first place.

He should’ve asked you. And even though you tried to object, he shut you down and told you to keep running. You didn’t have time to argue with the fog closing in, so you went right back to what you’d been doing before. It wasn’t even three minutes later when Katniss fell with Mags on her, causing Mags to take the situation into her own hands.

She kissed Finnick goodbye and walked into the fog.

None of you have mentioned it since it happened. You would like to say something to Finnick, but you’re sure it wouldn’t go over well with him. You can guess what he’d say back to you, taking none of your feelings about her into consideration. Besides, he seems to be holding it together pretty well, the last thing you’d want to do is accidentally send him over the edge.

“Don’t scratch.” Katniss tells them. “You’ll only bring infection. Think it’s safe to try for the water again?”

You don’t move from where you sit, letting them go back into the jungle to gather water. You’ve already had more than your fair share of injury in the past hour and a half, you’ll let them take their chances.

Peeta brings back a shell of water for you to drink, and even goes back one more time for a refill. You thank him and tuck the shell of water into the sand for later.

“Why don’t you three get some rest?” Katniss asks. “I’ll watch for a while.”

“No, Katniss, I’d rather.” Finnick says.

There’s a moment of silence, and then Katniss concedes. “All right, Finnick, thanks.”

Katniss and Peeta lay down in the sand, you don’t bother. You turn your back to Finnick to ensure he knows you’re disinterested in conversing with him. You spend the next few hours picking the clumps of bloody sand from your sword and flicking them toward the water.

You’re not entirely sure what Finnick does, and you don’t really care. The more you think about him and the alliance, the more irritated you grow, causing your pounding headache to get worse.

First, he tells you that he’s going to get you kicked out of the alliance by talking to Haymitch before you, and he nearly does. It’s a good thing that Haymitch doesn’t make rash decisions, otherwise you’d be on your own right now. He was almost convinced that you’d be more harmful than useful to the rebellion.

It wasn’t until Katniss made a comment about how much she trusts you, did he make up his mind and tell Finnick to deal with it. Katniss doesn’t like people easily. It was different for Mags, Wiress and Beetee because they don’t really pose a threat to her, and she doesn’t think that they’d go out of their way to kill her.

With you, all she told Haymitch was that it was easy to talk to you and she didn’t feel like she had to hide her true feelings. Which is an accomplishment and something you can use to your advantage later if needed. For right now, it’s pretty clear what she’s thinking even if she’s doing her best to hide it.

Anyway, Finnick doesn’t like that you don’t have to try with Katniss. And just like he told you in the Training Center, Haymitch had to give him a gold bracelet to symbolise to Katniss that he can be trusted. Which was funny when you found out at the Cornucopia.

Finnick was right, you didn’t make it there first—not that you thought you were anyway—but you did show up a minute later. Katniss was the one that saw you and welcomed you onto the island, despite Finnick trying to tell her not to.

He’s been pretty pissed and cold since.

By the time Katniss stirs awake, it’s about midmorning. Your sword is clean, the shell cup empty of water, and you’re surprisingly feeling a little bit better. And it appears that Finnick has been busy this entire time.

He’d woven a grass mat and laid it on some branches to shield Katniss and Peeta’s faces from the sun. There’s two bowls full of fresh water, and a third that contains shellfish.

He sits with them in front of him, cracking shellfish open with a stone. “They’re better fresh.” He tells Katniss, ripping flesh from the shell and popping it in his mouth. His eyes are puffy.

A tang of sadness hits you, you can’t imagine how difficult it’d been for him to cry silently with you sitting so close. His eyes lock with yours briefly before you turn away, getting to your feet. You brush the sand from your skin.

Katniss goes to reach for one of the shells but stops. She then holds her fingers close to her face, observing the blood beneath her nails.

“You know, if you scratch you’ll bring on infection.” Finnick says.

“That’s what I’ve heard.” She says, getting up to wash the blood off in the water. She stomps back up to you two a moment later. “Hey, Haymitch, if you’re not too drunk, we could use a little something for our skin.” She tells the sky.

A second later, a parachute swings out of the jungle, heading for her. She reaches up to catch a tube in her hands. “About time.” She says, going to sit next to Finnick in the sand.

She unscrews the lid, squeezing the thick, dark ointment into her palm. Her face twists, whether it be from the color or the smell, and then begins to massage it into her leg. A sigh escapes her while she closes her eyes.

“It’s like you’re decomposing.” Finnick says after she hands him the tube. But looks must not matter to him for the moment, because he gives in and starts to treat his skin as well.

“Poor Finnick. Is this the first time in your life you haven’t looked pretty?” Katniss teases.

“It must be. The sensation’s completely new. How have you managed it all these years?” He asks back.

“Just avoid mirrors. You’ll forget about it.”

“Not if I keep looking at you.”

Katniss offers the tube to you, but you hold up your hand, shaking your head. “I’ll be fine, save it for yourselves.”

“You’ve got a couple spots.” She motions.

“I’m good, really. But thank you.”

You swing your sword, and then wander away from them, trying to put some more distance so you can sit alone for a while longer. They wake Peeta up a few minutes later, and then you can hear the cracking of shells against rocks. You don’t bother to join them for the meal, you’re still full from last night.

You draw shapes in the sand, smooth them over to start over, and then write names. It isn’t until you’re on the third one, do you realize it's the names of dead tributes that you’ve mentored recently. You stare at them, mystified as to why you’ve chosen them, of all the people you know.

A scream from across the arena interrupts the silence of the arena. Your head jerks up, eyes searching the trees beyond the Cornucopia to find the source. A wedge of the jungle begins to vibrate, a huge wave crests over the trees, coming down the hill. You get to your feet, sword clutched tightly in your hand as you watch the wave hit the center water, and distribute evenly over the Cornucopia.

The wave that comes toward you reaches your knees, going as far back as the treeline, before retreating back to the center lake. Katniss, Peeta and Finnick gather their belongings before they float away.

A cannon fires. The hovercraft appears over where the water had come from, dipping down to collect the body. The claw comes back with the body, and that’s the last you see of the hovercraft.

You go to sit back down when Katniss’s head whips in your direction. “There.”

You turn your head, curious as to what she’s found. It’s three people stumbling on the beach, one of them being dragged onto the beach by the second, and the third is wandering in circles. They’re red, blood red.

“(Y/n), get back here.” Finnick hisses.

You don’t move from where you are, squinting at the figures.

“Who is that?” Peeta asks. “Or what? Muttations?”

The second person dragging the first suddenly drops the body, throwing their arms down at their sides and stomping their foot in anger—a move that you recognize from someone else, but can’t place your finger on. It isn’t until the person marches over to the third one to shove them over, do you realize.

“Johanna!” You shout, delighted. “Finally!”

“(Y/n)!” She replies.

You run toward her, sword swinging at your side, excited that you’re not stuck with Finnick by yourself anymore. Johanna will be able to act as a buffer between the two of you, and she’ll be able to shut him down when he gets mouthy with you now.

You throw your sword to the side, slamming into a hug with Johanna. The two of you rotate, her laugh is musical in your ear. You’re so happy that she’s alive, you don’t know what you’d do without her.

When you pull away, you motion at her. “What are you covered in?”

Finnick walks up beside you, “Hey, Johanna.”

“Finnick.” She says, and then she motions to the jungle. “We thought it was rain, you know, because of the lightning, and we were all so thirsty. But when it started coming down, it turned out to be blood. Thick, hot blood. You couldn’t see, you couldn’t speak without getting a mouthful. We just staggered around, trying to get out of it. That’s when Blight hit the force field.”

A small gasp comes from you as you cover your mouth. “Johanna, I am so sorry.”

“Yeah, well, he wasn’t much, but he was from home.” She sighs. “And he left me alone with these two.” She nudges Beetee with her foot, he doesn’t seem to acknowledge it at all. “He got a knife in the back at the Cornucopia. And her—”

Wiress has gotten back to her feet, wandering, murmuring, “Tick, tock. Tick, tock.”

“Yeah, we know. Tick, tock. Nuts is in shock.” She rolls her eyes, but at the mention of Wiress’s nickname, she’s drawn to Johanna, placing her hands on her. Johanna shoves her down to the beach. “Just stay down, will you?”

Lay off her.” Katniss snaps.

Johanna’s eyes narrow at her. “Lay off her?” She hisses. In an instant, she raises her hand and goes to slap Katniss, but you’re able to grab her wrist before she’s successful, pulling Johanna away from her. “Who do you think got them out of that bleeding jungle for you? You—”

Finnick steps in, tossing Johanna over his shoulder, forcing you to let go of her while he brings her to the water. You listen and watch as she screams some really insulting words at Katniss, and then Finnick drops her into the water to silence her. He does this until she goes quiet.

Katniss and Peeta take Beetee and Wiress to the water to clean the blood off of them, since they’re both incapable of doing it themselves. You wander to join Finnick and Johanna in the water, despite the unwelcoming glares you receive from Finnick.

—

“Get up.” Katniss suddenly orders, shaking Peeta, Finnick and Johanna awake. “Get up—we have to move.”

It’s about noon, judging by how the sun is positioned directly overhead in the sky. It’s been a relatively quiet morning these past couple hours, mostly because the entire group has spent it napping on the beach. For a while, you were sitting with both Johanna and Katniss, but Johanna eventually got tired and laid down on the beach.

You’re not entirely sure why Katniss suddenly feels the need to move. The only event that has happened recently is an announcement of sorts from the Gamemakers. A bell tolled twelve times like it had late last night, and the lightning started again. It must mean something to her, because she stood up to look around the arena.

“What is it?” Johanna slaps Katniss’s hand away.

“I think the arena works like a clock.” She says, Peeta rubs the sleep out of his eyes, while Finnick squints at the surrounding jungle. “(Y/n), you remember last night when the bell tolled?”

“Yeah.” You pull your knees to your chest, watching her.

“It was because it was midnight, and the start of the clock.”

“Twelve bongs.” Finnick murmurs.

“Yes.” She nods. “Wiress figured it out first, that’s why she’s tick-tocking. She’s trying to tell us the arena’s a clock.”

“That doesn’t make sense.” Johanna says, shaking her head.

“It does.” Katniss tells her. “Lightning at midnight, blood rain at two, poisonous fog at three, monkey mutts at four…” She trails off, assuming you get what she’s saying.

Peeta’s nodding, looking down at the sand. “It’d explain why we had to deal with the fog and monkeys back-to-back.”

“So what’s going to happen now, then?” Johanna asks.

“Blood rain.” Finnick tells her.

The group of you sit in silence for a moment, digesting this. If she’s right, then that does mean you have to move, or at least get to a point in the arena where you can observe. After that, you could move from wedge to wedge to avoid what lurks in the jungle.

“What should we do, then?” Peeta asks.

“We need to move, get out of the way.” You say, looking at Katniss. “The Cornucopia?”

“That’s not a bad idea.” Johanna agrees.

Katniss nods.

You break apart, going to collect your belongings out of the sand, securing them to your body to carry them with you. Finnick and Peeta work together to get Beetee back into his jumpsuit, now clean of blood.

Katniss goes to wake Wiress, who’s been murmuring in her sleep this entire time. She jolts awake, grabbing onto Katniss’s arms tightly. “Tick, tock!”

“Yes, tick, tock, the arena’s a clock. It’s a clock, Wiress, you were right.” She tells her. “You were right.”

Wiress relaxes considerably, nodding a little. “Midnight.”

“It starts at midnight.” Katniss confirms.

Wiress nods at one of the wedges. “One-thirty.”

“Exactly. One-thirty. And at two, a terrible poisonous fog begins there.” Katniss says, pointing at a different area of the jungle. “So we have to move somewhere safe now.” Wiress smiles and stands. “Are you thirsty?”

As soon as the woven bowl is handed over to her, Wiress gulps it down. Finnick gives her some of the bread from a sponsorship you missed, she slowly chews on it. From what you can see, it’s the salty seaweed bread from District Four. Yuck.

You hand Katniss her weapons, watching her secure the spile and the tube of medicine to a square cloth of a parachute before using a vine to tie it to her belt.

Beetee’s not entirely conscious, so Peeta goes to lift him out of the sand, causing him to stir and become deadweight. “Wire.”

“She’s right here.” Peeta says. “Wiress is fine. She’s coming, too.”

Beetee tries to push Peeta off of him. “Wire.”

“Oh, I know what he wants.” Johanna rolls her eyes, crossing the beach to pick up a cylinder. It’s still covered in a thick layer of blood, making it impossible for you to see what it is. “This worthless thing. It’s some kind of wire or something. THa’ts how he got cut. Running up to the Cornucopia to get this. I don’t know what kind of weapon it’s supposed to be. I guess you could pull off a piece and use it as a garrote or something. But really, can you imagine Beetee garroting somebody?”

You snort, she tilts her head.

“He won his Games with wire. Setting up that electrical trap.” Peeta tells her. “It’s the best weapon he could have.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Katniss chimes in. “Seems like you’d have figured that out.” She says slowly. “SInce you nicknamed him Volts and all.”

Johanna’s eyes narrow in her direction. “Yeah, that was really stupid of me, wasn’t it?” She asks. “I guess I must have been distracted by keeping your little friends alive. While you were… what, again? Getting Mags killed off?”

The air becomes hard to breathe, you steal a glance at Finnick out of the corner of your eye and find his eyebrows drawn in, thinking. You can’t believe Johanna just threw that out in the open.

Katniss’s hand grips the knife on her belt.

“Go ahead. Try it. I don’t care if you are knocked up, I’ll rip your throat out.” Johanna tilts her head.

“Maybe we all had better be careful where we step.” Finnick says, trying to calm the situation. He gives Katniss a look, taking the coil from Johanna to set it on Beetee’s chest. “There’s your wire, Volts. Watch where you plug it.”

This allows Peeta to pick up Beetee without an issue. “Where to?”

“To the Cornucopia, like (Y/n) said.” Finnick says. “I’d like to watch. Just to make sure we’re right about the clock.”

One at a time, you approach the nearest sand strip, heading to the center island. You take up the very back with Johanna, who has her arms crossed, seething. Or maybe not, you can’t see her face at the moment. Every time Katniss tries to call her out for her behavior, you know they get closer to considering killing each other.

The Cornucopia is barren of any Careers, allowing you to spread out and pick where you’d like to be in the mouth. The weapons that remain have been thoroughly picked-over, the only thing you could possibly grab now are knives. You don’t really have any specialty weapons. You had to teach yourself how to fight with a sword.

Peeta lays Beetee in the small bit of shae that does exist. As soon as Beetee’s comfortable, he calls over Wiress. She crouches beside him, and he hands over the coil of wire. “Clean it, will you?”

Wiress nods, and hurries over to the edge of the island. She dunks the coil in the water, quietly singing a song to herself about a mouse running up a clock.

“Oh, not the song again.” Johanna groans, throwing her head back. “That went on for hours before she started tick-tocking.”

She suddenly stops, standing up straight, coil of water in her hand, dripping watery blood onto the black rock. She points to the jungle. “Two.”

You look to where she’s pointing, and find a wall of fog seeping out onto the beach.

“Yes, look, Wiress is right. It’s two o’clock and the fog has started.”

“Like clockwork.” Peeta says. “You were very smart to figure that out, Wiress.”

All she does is smile, and then she goes right back to singing and cleaning. “Oh, she’s more than smart.” Beetee says, coming back to life. “She’s intuitive. She can sense things before anyone else. Like a canary in one of your coal mines.”

“What’s that?” Finnick asks.

“It’s a bird that we take down into the mines to warn us if there’s bad air.” Katniss explains.

“What’s it do, die?” Johanna asks morbidly.

“It stops signing first. That’s when you should get out. But if the air’s too bad, it dies, yes. And so do you.”

This is clearly a topic of conversation that Katniss doesn’t want to participate in, so it drops. Johanna turns to head inside of the Cornucopia, flicking her short hair over her shoulder. Katniss and Finnick follow soon after, going to stock up their weapons.

Johanna comes out with a pair of axes, looking over the blades with a fairly impressed look. She then swings the axe forward, at the golden walls of the Cornucopia. Since it’s been softened by the sun, the blade sticks. Johanna grabs it with one hand and yanks it out.

You watch as Peeta draws a circle with his machete on a large leaf he took from the jungle. He seems to draw a map of the arena, with the jungle and beach having its own sections. And then he divides the circle into wedges. “Look at how the Cornucopia’s positioned.”

Katniss comes over to look, “The tail points toward twelve o’clock.”

“Right, so this is the top of our clock.” He says, going on to write the numbers one through twelve around his circle. “Twelve to one is the lightning zone.” He writes lightning in small print in the wedge, working clockwise to add blood, fog, and monkeys to the next three sections.

“And ten to twelve is the wave.” Katniss says, he writes it in.

Finnick and Johanna come to see what they’re doing now. Tridents, axes and knives hanging off their bodies. Johanna pulls one of her knives from her belt, twisting it in her hand, holding the handle out to you.

You take it from her, holding it in your hands while you watch Peeta.

“Did you notice anything unusual in the others?” Katniss asks JOhanna and Beetee, but they haven’t experienced anything other than the blood. “I guess they could hold anything.”

“I’m going to mark the ones where we know the Gamemakers’ weapon follows us out past the jungle, so we’ll stay clear of those.” Peeta murmurs, drawing diagonal lines on the fog and wave beaches. He then sits back. “Well, it’s a lot more than we knew this morning, anyway.”

You look over the clock in silence.

Silence.

Your eyes dart up, and you find that Katniss is one step ahead of you, an arrow armed on her bow, pointed at a soaking wet Gloss. Wiress is sliding toward the ground, her throat slit open, it’ll be impossible to save her. The arrow slams into his temple, killing him instantly. Johanna is already on her feet, swinging her axe into Cashmere’s chest.

The sound of sand crunching beneath boots causes your head to whip in the direction, finding Brutus and Enobaria running up the other side. A spear drawn back in Brutus’s hand, aimed in your direction.

And furthermore, Finnick’s.

“Get out of the fucking way!” You scream, shoving Finnick down.

The both of you hit the sand, the spear whizzing right over your heads, where you had been standing seconds prior. It slams into the golden Cornucopia, the entire head buried in the structure. Brutus had thrown it with enough force to kill you both in an instant.

Two arrows are sent back by Katniss in retaliation, but neither of them must land, because she jerks forward to chase after them. Three cannons blast in quick succession, confirming three dead; Wiress, Gloss and Cashmere.

Katniss disappears around the mouth, with Johanna and Peeta right behind her. You and Finnick are just picking yourselves out of the sand when the ground jerks beneath you. Your shoulder slams into the sand, and then you begin to quickly roll, as the rock island that the Cornucopia sits on begins to spin, fast.

You desperately reach out, trying to find a ridge to dig your fingers into, but you only come up with handfuls of sand. The jungle has turned into a blur of green and beige as you pick up speed, water turning to mist in the air.

You’re almost at the edge of the rock when a hand clamps around your ankle, stopping you from falling off. You’re left to face the water, dizziness beginning to overcome you, until you slam to a sudden stop.

The urge to vomit rises up your stomach quickly. You yank your ankle free from whoever it is that has a hold of you, quickly crawling to the edge to puke up water and bile into the water. You try to close your eyes to make yourself feel better, but all it does is speed up the rate that you’re spinning.

The throbbing in your head returns in full swing.

When you finally finish gagging over the rock, you pick yourself up from the sand, wiping it from your skin. The others have gathered together at the mouth of the Cornucopia, just as disheveled as you are.

“Where’s Volts?” Johanna asks.

You sit down while they circle the Cornucopia to confirm he’s off of the island. Finnick apparently spots him about twenty feet out in the water, and dives in to retrieve him. Katniss, on the other hand, finds Wiress in the water, the coil still clutched tightly in her hands.

“Cover me.” She tells Johanna, racing down the strip closest to her body before diving in. She swims hard, battling the hovercraft on who will get to Wiress’s body first. She reaches her first, working to loosen Wiress’s fingers, and then comes back to the center island.

By the time she makes it, Wiress is gone, as well as the two other bodies that were floating in the water. Finnick lays Beetee down in the sand, letting him get a hold of himself again. Katniss places the wire in his lap, now clean of blood, sparkling in the sunlight.

Beetee unravels a small bit of the wire, running his fingers over it. It’s a pale golden color, and it’s incredibly thin. You know Johanna was joking about him using it to garrotte people but it would be completely impossible to. As soon as you’d tighten it, it would snap.

For a while, you sit in silence together, catching your breath, wringing the water out of your clothes or shaking sand out of your clothes. When it appears as though you’re ready to move on, Johanna stands. “Let’s get off this stinking island.”

You’re forced to recollect your weapons, since they had been strewn across the island due to the spinning. Your sword and the knife Johanna handed you are relatively easy to find. While the others have to take a moment to dig.

Beetee tells Peeta that he thinks he can walk now, as long as he’s patient and willing to go slow. It’s better than carrying him again, so Peeta helps bring him to his feet. It’s then decided you all should go to the beach at twelve o’clock, because it should give you several hours before you have to face the jungle again.

Peeta, Johanna and Finnick head off in three different directions.

“Twelve o’clock, right?” Peeta asks. “The tail point at twelve.”

“Before they spun us.” Finnick reasons. “I was judging by the sun.”

“The sun only tells you it’s going on four, Finnick.”

“I think Katniss’s point is, knowing the time doesn’t mean you necessarily know where four is on the clock. You might have a general idea of the direction. Unless you consider that they may have shifted the outer ring of the jungle as well.” Beetee says.

You squint, face twisted. You would hope the Gamemakers didn’t shift the jungle too, that would give the entire secret of the clock away, wouldn’t it? But then again, you guess it doesn’t matter.

“Yes, so any one of these paths could lead to twelve o’clock.” Katniss says, offering you a shrug when you look at her.

You circle around the Cornucopia as a group, picking out every detail of the jungle, only to discover that each wedge has been almost perfectly replicated. Katniss says something about how there was a tall tree in the lightning section that stood out, but now she can’t find it.

Johanna suggests following Enobaria and Brutus’s footsteps, but the sand has been blown away completely from the wind. Katniss lets out a heavy sigh, “I should have never mentioned the clock. Now they’ve taken that advantage away as well.”

“Only temporarily.” Beetee says. “At ten, we’ll see the wave again and be back on track.”

“Yes, they can’t redesign the whole arena.” Peeta says, trying to make her feel better.

“It doesn’t matter.” Johanna’s tone impatient. “You had to tell us or we never would have moved our camp in the first place, brainless.” She pops a hip out, crossing her arms. “Come on, I need water. Anyone have a good gut feeling?”

A path is chosen at random. At the beach, they peer into the jungle, trying to judge what could be inside.

“Well, it must be monkey hour. And I don’t see any of them in there.” Peeta shrugs. “I’m going to try to tap a tree.”

“No, it’s my turn.” Finnick objects.

“I’ll at least watch your back.” Peeta offers.

“(Y/n) can do that.” Johanna waves her hand. “We need you to make another map. The other washed away.” She yanks one of the leaves off of a tree to hand it to him.

“Wait, I didn’t agree to this.” You make a face, shaking your head.

“Then Katniss can go with you to keep the peace.” Johanna motions, Katniss nods.

You smile at her, but send a glare in Johanna’s direction, irritated that she’s already working to pair you and Finnick together. You’re tired of his presence and being forced to talk to him. You liked it yesterday when he was stubborn and refused to talk to you the entire day unless he had to.

Either way, you have no choice now. Finnick leads the way into the jungle. About fifteen yards in, he stops in front of a tree that looks like it’ll give you a good stream of water. He then holds his hand out, “Knife.”

“You have your own.” You tell him.

“Johanna gave you the best one.” He says, fingers beckoning for the knife. “It’s thinner.”

“You’ll make it dull.”

“Don’t be a pain.”

“Use your own knife.”

“No, I’m not ruining my own knives.”

“So you’ll ruin mine instead? Don’t you have like ten of them?” You motion at his belt. “Choose one of them.”

“I don’t want any of those.”

“You do realize that the knife is the only weapon I have beside my sword, right? You’re carrying like three different tridents, why don’t you use one of those?”

Finnick’s face twists at you. “Don’t tell me you’re actually that dense.”

“No, but you are.” You tilt your head at him.

Katniss shakes her head. “I know why Johanna sent me in here now.”

You look over your shoulder. “You can go, Katniss. We won’t kill each other.”

She purses her lips, thinking. “I’ve got to pee, so I’ll do that and come back.”

“Sounds like a deal.” Finnick tells her.

Katniss wanders off with her bow, heading deeper into the jungle, completely out of your sight. You look back at Finnick, who still has his hand out, waiting for your knife. You grab it begrudgingly, placing it in his hand.

He starts to drill into the tree with the tip of your knife, ruining it immediately. You’ll get him back for this later. You’re not sure how, because trying to use his trident would make you look stupid. Maybe you’ll steal a knife off of him when he’s sleeping, since he seems to place a lot of trust in the others to watch over him.

The silence between you and Finnick is fine for the first few minutes, but you really don’t like standing over him like this without saying anything. You clear your throat, turning your body away so you don’t have to look at him.

“I’m sorry about Mags.” You tell him. “I didn’t know her well, but she was always kind to me when I was with her. I can’t imagine how you’re feeling.”

“I’m fine.” Finnick tells you. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not.” You shake your head. “I should’ve taken Mags during the fog, I could’ve carried her.”

“It wouldn’t have made a difference.” He mutters. “Either she died during the fog, or the monkeys, or even the Cornucopia. At least she didn’t suffer.”

You hum. “I guess that’s true.”

There’s a few beats of silence, and then he sighs. “You’ve saved my life twice now.”

You make a noise, not really interested in this topic. All he’s going to do is start keeping score. You’ll even bet he’s going to tell you he doesn’t want to be in your debt.

“Hardly.” You tell him.

“You saved me from the monkey in the jungle, and if you hadn’t moved me out of the way, I could’ve died because of the spear.”

“We could’ve died.” You correct him. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is.” Finnick says, he stops drilling into the tree to look at you. “I was wrong when I said that you’d get in the way.”

You shrug, not really feeling the need to thank him. “Okay.”

“I’m sorry.” He tells you. “Really.”

“Forget about it.”

190 notes · View notes

ssweeterthanfiction · 22 days ago

Text

Glimpse of Us

summary: routine became something finnick cherished. but course, the capitol must ruin everything, including his love. but he will still find a way to get her back.

finnick odair x fem!reader

content warnings for the whole story: descriptions of death, torture, starvation, and everything described in The Hunger Games, mentions of suicidal thoughts, implications of S/A

mood board + playlist

previous part | masterlist | next part

Chapter III

You couldn't sleep and Finnick was trying his hardest to get you to sleep, even if it was for a little while.

"Come on angel...you've gotta sleep, you need energy for tomorrow" he says as he strokes your hair.

You've always had trouble sleeping, ever since you won your games. Nightmares were something that came with winning, but Finnick was always there to console you. No matter how long it took, he was always there.

When he finally got you to sleep, he held you for a little while longer before slowly pulling away.

He went to the living room and sat in the dark. His mind was racing. What if you get hurt in the arena? What if you die? His thoughts were interrupted when he heard the soft swish of the door open.

He thought you had woken up, but when he turned his head he saw Haymitch.

"Haymitch. What brings you by?"

"Just came to drop this off.." he says as he holds up a gold bangle.

Haymitch tosses it to Finnick and he catches it with ease. "Put it on before you go in tomorrow, then show it to Katniss, she'll know that you guys are allies."

Finnick quirks an eyebrow, "Are you sure?"

Haymitch shrugs, "We'll only be able to see tomorrow"

"About tomorrow..." he says, spinning the bangle around his finger, "This whole plan. Are you sure it's gonna work?"

"About 90% sure it'll work"

"Can you promise me something?"

Haymitch nods, "Sure"

"If anything goes wrong, you save her. Get Katniss, get Peeta, get whoever else you need to and save her. Leave me if it comes down to it."

Finnick watches as Haymitch hesitates, "Promise me Haymitch or I won't protect Katniss and Peeta." he says in a low threatening tone.

Haymitch puts his hands up in mock surrender, "Alright, alright. I promise."

After Haymitch leaves, Finnick returns to you, wrapping his arms around you in a protective embrace.

🌊 .·:*¨🌊🐚🌊¨*:·. 🌊

The next morning, you both woke up at the same time and decided to stay in eachothers arms for as long as possible.

Neither of you wanted to get up, you both knew what it meant if you did.

Finnick kisses the top of your forehead. He could feel the heat of your skin against his, the soft thrum of your heartbeat. For a brief second, he allowed himself to pretend that everything was normal, that this wasn’t the last morning he might spend with you. He knew it wasn’t possible, but he wanted to hold onto that feeling of peace for just a little longer.

It was only when the silence grew unbearable, when the weight of what was coming came crashing down.

Finnick pulled away just enough to look at you. Your eyes were wide, searching his face as if to find an answer, a reassurance he wasn’t sure he had.

"Finnick... I..." you started, but the words faltered on your lips. He could see the fear in your eyes. The same fear that he saw in your eyes when he mentored you.

"Don’t," he whispered, gently cupping your face in his hands. "You don’t have to say it. I know."

You swallowed hard, but your gaze never left his. Finnick felt his heart crack a little more as he saw the vulnerability in your eyes. He planted his lips on yours, "We’re going to make it through this," he said firmly, more to himself than to you. He didn’t know if he believed it, but he had to say it. For you. For both of you.

You nodded slowly, he could tell you didn’t believe it either, but you were trying for his sake.

He kissed you gently again, as if trying to imprint that feeling of safety into you for the storm that would come. "I’ll never leave you. Not now. Not ever."

For a long moment, neither of you moved. You just held each other, that was until you heard the high pitched voice of Lyssandra call out for both of you.

"Guess it's time.." he says in an annoyed tone.

You both get up from the bed. Finnick pulls you close, cups you face and gazes into your eyes, kissing you one last time before letting you go. "I'll see you soon." ***

"I'll see you soon tadpole."

Finnick watched as Kael gave you a big bear hug before being ushered onto the hovercraft with the other boys. He could see that you were nervous, well of course you were, you were basically being sent to your death. But Finnick knew that Kael would protect you in the arena.

Your voice trembled as you spoke, pulling him from his thoughts. "Any last advice?"

Finnick takes a step close and give you a tight hug, "Stick with Kael and stay alive."

He pulled away from you reluctantly, his hands lingering on your arms for a fraction of a second longer than necessary. "Stay alive," he repeated, his voice breaking slightly.

You nodded, though Finnick could see the uncertainty in your eyes. He wanted to say more, but the hovercraft’s engines roared louder, drowning out everything else.

As he watched you board the hovercraft, he wanted nothing more than to pull you back into his arms where you would be safe.

But he couldn't.

He could only hope that you would survive and make it back to him.

***

Finnick blinks a few times as he adjusts to the light of the arena. Looking around him he noticed that the cornucopia was in the middle of a lake and so was everyone's starting podiums.

"Let the 75th Hunger Games begins. May the odds be ever in your favor."

He looks around frantically for you but can't figure out where you are. Wherever you were, he needed to find you, Katniss, and Peeta fast.

"Ten."

Finnick’s heart pounded as the countdown began. He scanned the expanse desperately, his eyes darting from one podium to the next.

"Nine."

Where were you? Were you close by or on the opposite side? His chest tightened at the thought of you being too far away, out of reach before the bloodbath began. He had to find you. You had to survive. He wouldn’t forgive himself if you didn't.

"Eight."

Finnick’s hands tightened balled into fists. He felt the anxiety again. The same anxiety he felt when he was fourteen.

"Seven."

His gaze landed on Katniss, a few podiums to his left. Her face was set in determination, her body tense like a coiled spring. He knew it would be easy to get to her

"Six."

Where were you? His jaw clenched as frustration and panic built in his chest. He should’ve been able to spot you by now, to gauge how far you were and what he needed to do to get to you. The lake wasn’t large, but it felt infinite when you weren’t within his sight.

"Five."

His mind raced with possibilities. Would you run for the Cornucopia? No, that wasn’t your style. You’d likely stay back, wait for the chaos to thin out before making a move. But this was different. What was smart in your first games wouldn't be as smart now.

"Four."

Finnick reminded himself that you're strong. Stronger than you gave yourself credit for.

"Three."

His muscles tensed. He could already hear the splashes of water, the frantic scrambles of tributes who’d dive in as soon as the cannon sounded. He could picture the chaos, the blood, the screams. It was always the same, no matter the arena.

"Two."

Finnick took a deep breath and locked his eyes on a trident. If he couldn’t see you now, he’d find you once he got to the center. He had to. He’d promised himself that much. He’d protect you, no matter what it cost him.

"One."

The cannon sounded, and Finnick leaped into the water, the world exploding into chaos around him. His only thought, his only focus, was finding you before it was too late.

It wasn't long before he reached the center. He grabed his trident and after a quick encounter with Katniss that would establish the alliance, he was quick to make the first kill of the District 5 male that tried to run up on him and Katniss and after that was taken care of he went to the other side to look for you and Peeta.

He calls out your name and then sees you standing on the strip of rocks with a spear in hand as you look into the water. He calls out your name again.

Your head snaps up, "Finnick! It's Peeta!"

Finnick holds up his hand, "Just wait there! I'm gonna go get Katniss!"

He doesn't take long to come back with Katniss.

"He's there!" you say as you point to Peeta fighting a tribute in the water.

Finnick hands you his trident and immediately dives into the water. As he swims to Peeta, he panics when a cannon goes off and a body floats up to the surface.

But once he sees Peeat pop his head out he lets out a sigh of relief, one that he's sure everyone shared.

Once he has Peeta, you all start making your way to the jungle, the one place you all think you'll be safe.

Finnick takes your hand, holding it with a firm grip and runs behind Katniss and Peeta.

The four of you pushed deeper into the jungle, the thick canopy above shielding you from the blistering sun. Finnick’s mind raced as he scanned your surroundings.

"Okay, hold up. Hold up!"

Now in the middle of the jungle you all stop and crouch down, trying to desperatelt cath your breaths.

Finnick puts his hand over yours and squeezes it, a silent way of asking if you're okay, when you nod Finnick relaxes a bit.

"God it's hot. We gotta find fresh water." Peeta says, panting slightly.

Before anyone can respond, the cannon fires three times. Three more tributes are gone.

"Well I guess we're not holding hands anymore." Finnick says as he laughs.

He watches as you shoot him a 'shut up' look, silently scolding him for what he said.

Katniss glares at him. “You think that's funny?” she snaps, her voice icy and accusatory.

“Every time that cannon goes off, it’s like music to my ears,” he says smoothly. “I don’t care about any of them.”

He feels you nudge his shoulder and watches as you shake your head.

“Good to hear,” Katniss bites back, her expression hardening as she draws her machete with a metallic scrape.

"Wanna face the Career Pack alone? What would Haymitch say?"

"Haymitch isn't here."

You and Peeta exchange a look and Finnick watches as you both start to get up.

"Let's keep moving." Peeta says as he gets up.

You get up as well, but Finnick and Katniss don't. They stay crouched on the ground, glaring at eachother.

"Finnick." you say in a firm, yet soft tone.

Finnick finally stops glaring at Katniss, "Right...okay."

As you all start to traverse through the jungle, Finnick could feel the tension between the two of you.

"Did you have to say something earlier?" you say in a hushed tone.

Finnick scoffs under his breath, running a hand through his hair. “Oh, come on. I’m the one who kept everyone alive so far. I grabbed the trident, took out a tribute, and got Peeta out of the water, didn’t I? Forgive me for cracking a joke.”

You stop walking for a split second before catching up to him again. “It’s not about the joke,” you mutter, your voice quiet but firm. “It’s about the way you said it. You sounded like you didn’t care.”

Finnick’s steps falter, and he glances at you, his expression softening just slightly. “I care,” he murmurs, his tone barely audible. “You know I do.”

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, your annoyance fading but not entirely gone. “Then show it. Because if she thinks she can’t trust you, this whole thing isn't gonna last long and then the plan will be out the window."

Before he could even think of responding, the sound of Katniss screaming cuts through the air, and before anyone could even react, Peeta goes flying off the force field and crashes into everyone.

Finnick groans, "Are you okay?"

You nod but then start hitting his shoulder and pointing to Katniss.

"He's not breathing. He's not breathing! He's not breathing- Peeta!"

Finnick dashes towards the two and pushes Katniss off of Peeta to start CPR.

You see Katniss go to reach for her machete, her movements quick and defensive, but before she can strike, you call out sharply, “Katniss, stop!”

Her hand freezes in mid-air, fingers gripping the hilt of her machete, eyes wild with confusion and fear. The tension in the air is suffocating, and for a moment, everything stands still.

"Come on Peeta. Come on."

A painful silence hangs in the air as Finnick continues, his heart hammering in his chest. The seconds stretch out like an eternity, every beat of his pulse ringing in his ears.

Then, finally, finally a shudder runs through Peeta’s body. Finnick’s breath hitches, and he shifts, leaning in closer as Peeta coughs, sputters, and gasps for air, his chest heaving as life returns to him.

"Peeta?" Katniss breathes, her voice soft with disbelief as she touches his shoulder gently. "Peeta oh my god”

Finnick takes a step back and you take a step closer to him.

You both watch as Katniss kisses and as she pulls Peeta into a tight embrace.

"It's real." you whisper.

Finnick looks down at you for a spilt second and then back at Katniss and Peeta.

It defineitely is real.

🌊 .·:*¨🌊🐚🌊¨*:·. 🌊

After walking for a bit longer, the group stops as Katniss climbs up a tree.

You step closer to Finnick and reach out for his hand.

You look flushed, the heat and dehydration was catching up to you.

"You okay angel?" he says in a gentle tone.

"Yeah... just had a little déjà vu back there.”

Finnick tilts his head, brows furrowing as he watches you, “Déjà vu? What do you mean?”

You stay quiet for a moment, "When you were giving Peeta CPR...it reminded me of what happened in my games." you whisper, looking down at the ground.

Finnick frowns, he knows exactly what you're talking about.

***

He was sitting in a lavish Capitol viewing party, surrounded by jeering, laughing citizens who are oblivious to the weight of the lives being traded for their amusement. His eyes were glued to the screen, watching as the Games unfold in front of him.

You and Kael were safe, you were both deep in the forest, away from all the other tributes. The cameras were constantly following the two of you, you were both already deemed Capitol favorites.

“Oh, aren’t they just adorable together?” one woman gushed, her hair a shock of neon pink feathers. “Kael is such a protector. Did you see how he looked at her when she almost tripped over that root?”

The party goers continued to comment and make remarks while the cameras continued to follow you both as you forged for something to eat.

He was already thinking of how if neither of you found anything, he could just persude one of these partygoers to send you bread, soup, anything to keep you alive.

He watched as you picked a few berries and examined them, he could tell that you weren't sure if they were safe to eat, but you still set them down onto a small leaf ontop of a rock.

He watched as you turned your back to try to find some more...but then he saw a tribute. He felt his heart stop. Kael was no where near you, so if this tribute attacked, you would have to fight on your own.

But instead of going after you, he watched as they lunged for the berries and as they ate all of them.

The tribute had collapsed almost immediately. The camera zoomed in on their lifeless body, the effects of the poison quick and deadly.

He watched as you turned around and froze. Your face twisted in horror, your hands were shaking violently. You realized what had happened. You hadn’t meant for this.

Without hesitation, you dropped to you knees beside the fallen tribute, desperately pressing your hands to their chest, trying to revive them, trying to save them.

But it was too late.

He wanted to turn away, to block out the sight of you cradling the body in your arms, your face streaked with tears as you whispered frantic apologies.

“Oh, she’s so sweet,” one Capitol woman remarked, her hand pressed to her chest, her voice high with faux sympathy. “She never meant to do that. She was just trying to help. Poor thing.”

The women around him murmur in agreement, calling you “sweet” and “innocent". “She doesn’t belong here,” one woman says, tsking as she crosses her legs. “Such a delicate thing. She’ll never survive, not with that soft heart of hers.”

He wanted to tell them to shut up as they all continued to make comments. But he couldn't. All he could do was hope that you come out of this alive.

***

"The force field. It's a dome, we're at the edge of the arena." Katniss says as she adjusts her bow. "I couldn't find any signs of fresh water."

Everyone shares a look of disappointment. It was now hotter than before, almost too unbarable.

"It's gonna get dark soon." Finnick says, "We'll be safe with our backs protected. We should set up camp."

"We can take turns sleeping" you say.

Finnick nods, "I'll take first watch."

"Not a chance." Katniss scoffs.

He scoffs and stands up.

"Honey. That thing I did for Peeta back there? It's called saving his life."

"If I wanted to kill either of you, I would've done it by now."

"Finnick.." you say as a warning.

He starts walking away but you tug on his arm.

"Finn. Come on. Stop acting like this."

"Like what?

"Like you don't care!"

He gazes at you as you put your hand on his cheek.

"Finn. I know you care. More than anyone I know you care." you whisper. "But they don't." you say as you motion to Katniss and Peeta.

"I know.." he whispers, "But you know I can't just break this whole act."

You nod, "I know...I just- I don't want Katniss to not trust us."

He puts his hand on you cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin as he gazes into you eyes. “I’ll try,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible. “For you. But it’s not gonna be easy.”

“I’m not asking for perfect,” you whisper back, your voice soft yet firm. “Just… don’t make them think you’re the enemy. We need them as much as they need us.”

His lips twitch into a faint smile, “Alright, angel. I’ll behave. For now.”

You let out a small, relieved sigh and drop your hand from his arm, giving him a nod. Finnick straightens, his gaze briefly flickering to Katniss and Peeta, who are both watching the two of you from a distance. Katniss still looks wary, her hand resting on her bow, while Peeta’s expression is one of observation, as if he’s trying to piece together what's going on between you and Finnick.

🌊 .·:*¨🌊🐚🌊¨*:·. 🌊

It's not long before nightfall hits. Finnick and Katniss are the only two awake as you and Peeta try to rest.

He keeps his gaze locked on you as you sleep next to him, admiring how pretty you look under the moonlight of the arena. Then he looks over at Katniss.

"How's Peeta?"

"He's okay I think. Dehydrated like the rest of us." Katniss says as she looks over to you, "How's she?"

Finnick sighs, "She's fine, just like you said, dehydrated. I just hope she doesn't get sick." he says as he runs his hand through your hair.

"You really care about her, don't you?"

Finnick look at Katniss, who has a look of skepticism on her face. He nods, "Course I do."

Before Katniss can say anything back, the anthem starts playing causing you and Peeta to wake up.

You all look up and watch as the holograms of the fallen tributes appear on the screen. You and Finnick share a sigh of relief when you don't see anyone that's apart of the plan up on the screen.

Except for Seeder and Cecelia.

Finnick watches as you tear up when you see Cecelia up on the screen.

"Her kids Finny..." you say as your voice breaks, "Her kids...they’re all alone…"

He's quick to put his hand against your cheek to console you, "I know angel. I know." he pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around you. Your forehead rests against his shoulder, your quiet sobs muffled by the crook of his neck.

“It’s not fair,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

“I know,” he says, his own eyes shining with unshed tears. “It’s never been fair. But that’s why we have the plan, angel. To make sure it ends.” he says so quietly that only you can hear, letting you go from his arms.

Once the holograms finish, Katniss says she counted eight. Sixteen tributes are still out there.

The familar sound of the chiming of a sponsor gift fills the air.

Katniss walks over to it and Finnick follows her.

When Katniss realizes its a spile, she goes over to a tree and using a rock she taps it into the tree. The minute water starts trickling out of the tube, everyone starts to drink from it.

Before you can even move, Finnick comes up to your side with a leaf full of water.

"Finn..I could've gotten it myself.."

He smiles, "But I wanted to get it for you. Here, drink" he says as he brings up the leaf to your lips.

He watches as you drink from it, "Better? Do you want more?"

"I'm fine, I don't need anymore, this is enough."

He nods and places a hand on your cheek, "Come on, let's get you back to sleep."

A few minutes pass and you're sound asleep next to Finnick again, he idly runs his fingers through your hair in a soothing motion.

Only when you hear the banging of what sounds like a gong do you wake up.

"What's going on?" you say sleepily.

"I don't know.." Finnick says, looking around.

"I counted 12." Katniss says.

"For midnight?" Finnick says, continuing to stroke your hair.

"Or for the number of Districts"

You then all hear and see a huge strike of lighting hit a tree in the distance multiple times.

You all look at it puzzled by what it meant.

Finnick sighs, "Well..if you're not gonna sleep, I will" he says to Katniss as he moves to lay down with you.

🌊 .·:*¨🌊🐚🌊¨*:·. 🌊

You were lying on Finnick's chest as he holds you close. Both of you were fast asleep. Hearing the distance sounds of the waves coming from the beach made it feel like you were both back home.

That you were both back in four in the comfort of your house.

But the ugly reality came crashing down when you were both awoken by Katniss' screams of pain.

A/N: AND THAT ENDS DAY ONE OF THE GAMES!!!!!! i hope u guys enjoyed! next chapter will be filled with more finnick and angel moments I PROMISE. also if u guys have any questions or just wanna like chat my asks/requests are open! i don't have school AT ALL this week so i will be able to respond to a lot more than usual!

Taglist: @jacaeryslover @sundawn1990 @redama @noodleisodd **if you'd like to be included in this taglist lmk in the replies!

#finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #thg finnick #the hunger games #finnick odair imagine #finnick fanfic #i love finnick odair #finnick imagine #finnick x reader #finnick x you #finnick #hunger games finnick #finnick odair angst #finnick odair fluff #catching fire #thg

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avoxrising · 1 year ago

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The Feral One - Prologue

I had an idea for a mini Finnick x reader Tumblr series so I wrote a short prologue to gage y’all’s interest. Lmk if y’all want to see more!

“I want you guys to forget everything you think you know about the games,” Haymitch states as the District 12 team sits down to eat.

“Last year was child’s play,” Haymitch continues. “This year, you’re dealing with all experienced killers.”

“All right. What does that mean for us?” Peeta asks.

“That means you’re gonna have to have some allies,” he replies.

Peeta starts, “ok I think that if we…”

“Whoop,” Haymitch interrupts. “You’re not the problem.”

“No,” Katniss states as she stares at the pair, seemingly upset that they even suggested allies.

“Look,” Haymitch sighs. “You’re starting at a disadvantage. Most of these people have been friends for years.”

“That just puts us higher on their kill list,” Katniss states.

“Do it your own way,” Haymitch tells her. “But I know these people. You go it alone, their first move is going to be to hunt you down. Both of you.”

“Katniss come on,” Peeta sighs.

“How could any of us even trust each other?” she asks.

“It’s not about trust,” Haymitch responds. “It’s about staying alive.”

After the group eats they move to the lounge to watch the recap of the reapings. Haymitch proceeds to give his tributes a rundown of their competition.

“Cashmere and Gloss,” Haymitch states. “Brother and sister, District 1. They won back to back games, capital favorites, lots of sponsors. They will be lethal.”

He clicks to the next clip. “And the other half of the career pack, Brutus and Enobaria.”

“What’s with her teeth?” Katniss asks, noticing the abnormally sharp teeth in her mouth.

“She had them filed into fangs so she could rip peoples throats out,” Haymitch explains.

“She’s committed, I’ll give her that,” Peeta declares. Haymitch moves on to the next clip.

“Wiress and Beetee,” he states. “Not fighters, but brilliant and weird, real tech savvy. He won his games by electrocuting six tributes at once.” The tributes absorb this information as Haymitch moves on to the next clip.

He moves onto the next clip and Katniss speaks out. “Finnick Odair right?”

“Yes, he won his games at 14, youngest, ever, extremely humble,” Haymitch replies.

“You’re kidding,” Katniss gapes.

“Yes, I’m kidding,” Haymitch sighs. “He’s a peacock, a total preener. But he’s the capital’s darling, and they love him here; charming, smart, and very skilled at combat, especially in water.”

“What about weaknesses?” Peeta ask and Haymitch skips back to the escort calling out the female tribute’s name.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” Haymitch states. “Known in the capital as ‘the feral one’, winner of the 69th games”.

Katniss and Peeta shrink deeper into the couch.

“Isn’t she, um, a serial killer?” Peeta stutters.

“Well technically most of the victors are,” Haymitch responds. “But yes, she has killed outside of the games. She’s a deeply misunderstood creature.”

“Why is she Finnick’s weakness?” Katniss asks.

“She was Finnick’s first victor that he mentored,” Haymitch explains. “It’s hard not to get attached to the ones you bring home, especially your first. However, those two are a bit more complicated. I’d says it’s probably more of a… situationship… than an actual relationship but if you mess with either of them I can assure you that you’ll be dead pretty quickly.”

“So we should avoid them,” Peeta states, taking a mental note of Haymitch’s explanation.

“No,” Haymitch states, confusing his tributes. “The best move is to ally with them. They’re your biggest competition in the arena besides the careers, but they’re arguably more reliable and you don’t want to get on her bad side. They call her feral for a reason.”

#hunger games #finnick odair #hunger games fic #the hunger games #finnick odair x reader #finnick imagine #finnick x reader #catching fire

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muldersfingers · 12 days ago

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The 61st Bloodbath

An MSR/Hunger Games AU by muldersfingers

Chapters: 14/21 Word Count: 56,024/80,000 Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully Characters: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Samantha Mulder, Walter Skinner, Haymitch Abernathy, Mags (Hunger Games), Coriolanus Snow, Cigarette Smoking Man (X-Files), Original Characters

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Dana Scully was the 60th victor of the Hunger Games. Dana Scully was a petite redhead who, despite hailing from a promising district and having been born in an even more prestigious one, was not a favourite to win her Games. Dana Scully was a broken, distant shell of a person who probably couldn’t knock a grasshopper off its legs. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ On the eve of the tribute reaping for the 61st Hunger Games, the District 4 victors attend the mentor reaping.

PART ONE

PART TWO

Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine - Chapter Ten - Chapter Eleven - Chapter Twelve - Chapter Thirteen - Chapter Fourteen

#hunger games au #my fic #poangpals #i will post one chapter a day until part one is finished #x files fanfic

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nebulaafterdark · 1 year ago

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Exile (Part 4)

Summary: Y/N Undersee thought the games were over after becoming a victor. Unfortunately, life outside the arena has become just as dangerous. Prequel to Moves & Countermoves

Trigger warning: forced prostitution, explicit sexual content, alcohol/drug use and other mentions of trauma. 18+ ONLY

Part 3

The reaping for the 64th hunger games, brings forth their tributes, Denali and Maximus. The girl, is sixteen and her little brother, only fourteen. Orphans, surviving solely off of tesserae and profits made from pedaling contraband at the hob.

When Y/N comes to greet them on the train, Denali has her brother tucked behind her protectively, near the table of food. “Hello.”

Denali watches her with wary eyes.

“You should eat.” Y/N tells her. “Both of you. Get your strength up for the arena.”

Maximus reaches out for a dinner roll, but his sister slaps it from his hand.

“You first.” Denali demands. She needs to be sure it’s not poisoned.

Y/N closes the space between them, taking the abandoned bread and tearing off a piece. Placing it into her mouth, she chews and swallows.

Maximus presses his lips together, gulping hard. He can almost taste it.

“My name is Y/N. I’ll be your mentor-”

“Where’s the other one? The man?”

“Haymitch is down in the bar car.” Y/N tells them.

“He’s been doing it longer, we want him.” Denali says.

“Fine.” Y/N crosses both arms over her chest, toying with the bracelet on her left wrist. “But the two of you stay here, and eat. Please eat.”

The girl narrows her gray, seam, eyes, watching the woman leave. She’s seen her before, sneaking around where she didn’t belong. The man, Haymitch, was from the seam, before he won the games. He still comes down to the hob, Denali’s sold to him a couple times. Most recently, a bracelet, woven from stitching scraps. For his wife, he’d told her…and the woman, Y/N, is wearing it.

The victors return after a long moment, their hands intertwined. Y/N appears to be leading Haymitch toward them, against his will.

Maximus and his sister stare at him, expectantly.

Haymitch smiles, “I heard you wanted to see me.”

“Y-yes. You’re our mentor and we need strategy and-”

“Woah,” Haymitch stops the girl’s train of thought, “you’re barking up the wrong tree, sweetheart.”

“What?”

“That’s her department,” Haymitch jerks his chin toward his wife.

“Then what do you do?” Denali asks.

“Enjoy the refreshments,” Haymitch lifts his glass.

————————————————————————

Upon arriving in the Capitol, Y/N and Haymitch are collected to film interviews. Caesar always finds a way to make the most of their time here. But over the years, it has proven useful in gaining sponsors for their tributes.

“We’re happy.” Haymitch reminds Y/N. “We’re in love and so glad to be here.”

Y/N nods, blinking up at him through obscenely long lashes. Vanity has done a number on her this time. Y/N is her muse, the one who inspired her to leave her position as stylist for the games and design pieces for her victor full time.

The people of the Capitol cannot get enough. Anything Y/N wears, they want to wear. Tonight is a cotton candy pink dress.

“For the first time, on this very stage, we will be joined by Mr. and Mrs. Abernathy.” Caesar announces, riling the crowd into a frenzy.

Last time they were here was their wedding day and Snow obviously had better things for them to do afterwards than gossip with Caesar Flickerman.

“Please give our newly weds a warm welcome, Y/N and Haymitch.” Caesar motions toward them from the stage, their queue to join him.

Haymitch reaches back for her hand, waving out at the crowd as they cross the floor.

Y/N greets Caesar first. He likes her better than Haymitch anyway, most people do.

————————————————————————

“Where’ve you been?” Maximus asks his mentors, after the tribute parade.

“Clearly they have more important things to do than help us.” Denali turns up her nose in their direction.

The tributes are dressed as coal miners…again.

“Do you have any idea how much a bottle of water goes for in the arena? A loaf of bread? Medicine?” Haymitch cuts in. “Those things don’t come cheap, sweetheart.”

“So what?” Denali doesn’t understand how their absence would change that.

“There’s people here with a lot of money.” Y/N explains. “The more time we spend with them, the more money they’re willing to provide our tributes. I’m sorry that we had to step away, but that’s why I supplied you with the tablets. Did you have a chance to look over the strategy files?”

Denali shakes her head of dark curls.

“That’s ok, we still have time.” Y/N assures her, “let’s go up to our floor. We can discuss it over dinner.”

————————————————————————-

The district twelve escort, a woman named Cordelia Walters, who desperately hopes to be reassigned to another district; holds the elevator for them. “Chop, chop.” She claps her hands together. Like herding animals in a zoo.

“Always a delight.” Haymitch snarks, as they step into the confined space.

Y/N huffs a laugh, pressing her lips together. Their escorts seem to have a high turnover rate. She hopes that holds true.

Dinner is tense, Cordelia can’t be bothered with listening to defense strategy details. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Oh, sure!” Y/N pipes up, “let’s discuss the up in coming fashion for the spring. I have all of Vanity’s sketches.”

“Really?” The woman squeals, “you don’t think she’ll mind?”

“Not at all.” Y/N lies, “here, take it. You can bring it back in the morning.”

“Thank you.” The Capitol woman races away, closing the door to her suite behind her.

“That’s one way to do it.” Haymitch lifts a shoulder, poking at the peas on his plate.

“Now we can talk?” Maximus asks, shoveling another spoonful into his mouth.

“Yeah,” Y/N smiles. “You can start by telling me what you’re good at.”

“I’m a fast runner.” The boy tells her.

“Had to be, we’ve been running all our lives.” Denali adds, still unsure if Y/N can be trusted.

“And what about you,” Y/N asks, “what are you good at?”

“I’m strong and good with a knife.” The girl tells her. “We just need you to give us a chance.”

Y/N leans in, across the table, “we can train you, separate from the other tributes. We can supply you with anything you might need from a sponsor. We can prepare you for your interviews. No one is rooting for you more than we are.”

The four of them talk late into the night, answering questions. Exchanging stories and discussing useful weapon tactics.

Haymitch’s number one rule is not to get attached. However his wife, either cannot or will not follow it.

When they finally retire to their room, Y/N makes a mad dash for the white pills, on the bedside table. The contents rattle in her shaking hand.

“Here, angel.” Haymitch takes it from her, “that won’t help.”

“But you said-” White is for pain.

He reaches for another bottle. “Take this.” He deposits a yellow pill into her hand. Then a blue. For her nerves and to help her sleep.

Y/N swallows them down, attempting to catch her breath.

“Come here.” Haymitch wraps her up in his arms. Placing a hand over her heart and rubbing gently, “that’s where it hurts, huh?”

She nods, praying that the pills take effect soon.

“The white ones can’t help with that.” He continues, attempting to soothe the ache.

“How do you do this?” Y/N leans into him. “It’s only been four years and I feel like-”

“Before you, those ten years after I won….I drank until I blacked out and I can still see their faces. I remember their names. I see their families, back home and it never gets easier. It never gets better. But you find ways to live with it.”

Y/N lets out a sob, “I can’t. I can’t.”

“I’ll help you.” I’ll do whatever it takes.

“I want to go home.”

“I know,” Haymitch breathes. “But the pills are gonna kick in soon. Then you’ll feel better.”

“I don’t want to feel better. I want to save those kids!”

“We can try.” Haymitch says, somberly.

“If I overdose, what happens to my family?” Y/N wonders, eyelids growing heavy as Haymitch shuffles her toward the bed.

“Snow wanted to have them executed after your games. As punishment for you not killing Tyson. He was only willing to negotiate a deal, in exchange for my…work. If you kill yourself, I have nothing else to offer him. No leverage. He’ll kill them and sell me; again.” Haymitch explains, pulling off her shoes. “But I wouldn’t blame you.”

Y/N sucks in a breath. She has something to live for. Her sister, her parents and him. She has Haymitch to live for. Therefore she cannot die. “It was only a hypothetical question, I wasn’t- I wouldn’t-” leave you.

Haymitch pats her cheek, the drugs have kicked in and her tears have subsided. “Goodnight, angel.”

Taglist: @spideysimpossiblegirl @ancientbeing10 @1-800-styles @l3xi3luv @lam-ila @druby2011-blog @liballer @readinginthe-am @rae-11 @champomiel @mariechristine00

#haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch abernathy smut #haymitch abernathy x y/n #haymitch x y/n #moves & countermoves #haymitch abernathy #haymitch abernathy x you #haymitch smut #haymitch x reader #hunger games fanfiction #hunger games #the hunger games #exile

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daydreamer-in-reverie · 7 months ago

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I want to put focus on how significant parents are in the Hunger Games franchise, most especially on the role a parent has in shaping their child’s psyche and I want to do this by using Katniss, Peeta and Snow as reference.

In the books and the movies, parents are more or less background characters. We truly only see glimpses of them. Both of Peeta’s parents are alive yet we rarely see them featured prominently in the books/movies. Both of Snow’s parents are dead and we only get to hear of them in passing and while Mrs. Everdeen is alive, she’s often relegated to the background because of how dismissive Katniss is towards her mother.

Yet these characters and the very essence of their beings are shaped by their parents.

Beginning with Katniss, we saw how deeply her father’s death wounded her. He was their provider, the sole person responsible for bringing food onto their table. We know how deeply he was loved by his children and his wife and how beloved he was by the other citizens of 12 by Katniss’ stories. Mr. Everdeen was a well known figure in the Hobb and Katniss firmly believed that it was because of him that people took pity on her and allowed her to bargain with them. It was his death that served as a catalyst to Katniss’ journey to becoming a Victor. Without his death, without Katniss being forced to hunt to serve her family, she wouldn’t have made it out of the arena. To Katniss, her father was the hero deserving of being placed on a pedestal and it was his values and actions that she tried desperately to emulate to protect her family.

On the other hand, Katniss scorned her mother. She hated Mrs. Everdeen’s inaction when she spiraled into a deep depression after her husband died. And though it wasn’t Mrs. Everdeen’s fault, I can’t blame Katniss for feeling this way about her mother. She and her sister were near the brink of death by starvation on the day she met Peeta. Even when Mr. Everdeen was alive, Katniss was partial to her father because he stoked the rebellion in Katniss’ heart while it was her mother who tried to stop it. Katniss perceived her mother’s depression as a weakness and even after she got better, Katniss was determined to keep her at arms length. The love she felt for her mother may have been unconditional but she constantly put her mother under the test. Waiting to see if she would disappoint her, fail her by abandoning her once again. And when Prim died and Mrs. Everdeen left for District 4, Katniss’s unconscious bias against her mother was once again reaffirmed.

It’s why Katniss struggles to form a good bond with motherly characters like Effie but maintains relatively good relationships with fatherly figures like Haymitch and Cinna. Katniss openly admits that of the two people who guided them throughout the Hunger Games, it was Haymitch she was most alike. They grew up at the Seam, and shared similar features and she was adamant that should she have been forced into becoming a mentor like Haymitch was, she was looking at what her future would have looked like. Drunk and continuously intoxicated like Haymitch was.

On the other hand, we have Peeta.

Peeta was routinely abused by his mother. While we don’t know the full extent of what it was he had to endure, we know that it wasn’t a pleasant experience. Peeta’s mother took pride in the knowledge that District 12 would finally have another Victor, and she wasn’t referring to Peeta. We saw him take a beating to feed Katniss and whatever relationship Peeta had with his father was practically nonexistent. It was his mother that served to be the looming presence in his life the same way Katniss’ father haunted her. It’s why I believe Peeta got along so well with Effie and why Effie likely preferred Peeta over Katniss. Aside from the fact that Peeta was so much more civil to Effie than Katniss was to Effie, Peeta always deferred to Effie. He and Effie are similar in the same way Katniss and Haymitch are similar.

Peeta was characterized to be of the merchant class, the “upper” class of District 12. As a given, Effie is from the Capitol, the upper crust of Panem. It was Effie who provided Katniss and Peeta with the script necessary to ensure their survival after the 74th Games and in return, Effie knew how effectively a person’s image and reputation could mean life and death in the arena and in this, Peeta is in agreement. While Katniss may have used a bow as a weapon, Peeta used his words. He always knew the right things to say and do to get people to side with him, so much so that he managed to convince the careers of the 74th Games, his biggest enemies in the arena, to ally with him. Had anyone else been in his situation, they would have been killed. Peeta craved Effie’s maternalism the same way Katniss craved Haymitch’s paternalism because these were the things they lacked growing up.

And then there’s Coriolanus, who lost both his parents and it is both of these parents who haunt him. His mother, described to be beautiful and kind, was represented by the powder compact he kept with him constantly. His father, harsh and cruel, represented by the handkerchief that Snow kept with him.

In TBOSAS, Snow has two mentors himself.

Dean Highbottom and Dr. Gaul.

It’s not lost on me that in them, the characterization of the two are reversed from Snow’s parents. Highbottom, like Snow’s father is stern and harsh. He is Snow’s biggest critic and while I doubt Mr. Snow would go so far as to hate his own child, he would not have been kind to Coriolanus had he lived past the war. Yet Highbottom and Mr. Snow’s similarities end there. Because of Highbottom’s remorse and the kindness that he showed Lucy Gray after she won the Games, he takes after Snow’s mother in that regard. He is compassionate and filled with horror at the abomination he created.

On the other hand, Gaul treats Snow with a gentleness that Highbottom never had for him. Though Snow finds Gaul creepy, it is Gaul that takes him under his wing. It is Gaul who stitches up his wounds after he is attacked in the arena and retrieves Sejanus and Gaul who praises him for his ingenuity at suggesting the sponsoring system. Gaul genuinely likes Snow and begins grooming him to become her replacement in the event that she dies. But while Gaul may have been a woman with the capacity for gentleness, she is a terrible human being who threw children into the arena to fight for their survival. She is the same woman who hung a child for running away from the games and paraded the corpses of children on the streets of the Capitol. She is pure evil. She is exactly like Snow’s father.

It isn’t loss on me that Snow, who has an abundance of maternal figures in his grandmother and Tigris, chooses to take after Gaul, who is externally like his mother but internally like his father, rather than Highbottom, who is the opposite.

At every instance Snow had to do good, to choose to do the right thing and be like his mother, he intentionally continued to do the evil thing for the sake of his selfishness and be like his father.

“You look just like your father, Coriolanus.” Were the words Tigris used to describe him at the end of the movie because that is precisely who he chose to become.

And as Snow poisons Highbottom and becomes a gamemaker under Gaul’s tutelage, he kills whatever remnant of his mother he had left in him, fully embodying his cruel father’s ideals.

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moethewriter · 1 year ago

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Could you do one for Finnick where no one knows they are together except close friends, we know katniss doesn’t like him much at first and the reader knows the rebellion plan and obviously Finnick so she doesn’t stop him from flirting with her and maybe(?) thinks it’s amusing because she knows why he’s doing it but it’s revealed in the arena they’re together and katniss is shocked

I hope you like it! I was excited to write it but I fear I made it far more angsty and less flirty than you would like! TITLE: A Lover's Cry WORD COUNT: 1.8k PAIRING: Finnick Odair x Reader WARNINGS: General hunger games violence, secret relationships, angst and multiple POV! (Katniss, Reader) TAGS: Let me know if I need to tag anything else! A/N: I actually really loved writing this one, and i hope you enjoy it despite only loosely basing it off your prompt! Thank you so much for the request and as always I take constructive critisicsm! Not beta read as usual! -

“So what’s with those two?” Katniss questioned, pointing towards the screen.

She had watched Haymitch flick through the tributes, giving her and Peeta the basics on everyone who was going into the arena. Two had caught her eyes immediately, Finnick Odair from District 4, and Y/N L/N from District 8. She knew their names, their faces but she didn’t know anything about their skills or who they were. But both seemed far too polished, posh and pretty standing in front of their respective crowds. It seemed like they were ready to head back in there, almost like they wanted too.

Haymitch turned towards the television.

“Finnick Odair and Y/N L/N.” He stated, watching the scenes of people he knew, waving towards the crowd of people. Picture perfect smiles adorning their faces.“The Capitol Darlings, everyone loves them … and people to watch out for. Finnick Odair, the youngest Victor in history at only fourteen and Y/N L/N took the top spot for kills from Beetee during her games. Took out nine people in one go. Extremely humble” He shook his head, remembering the brutality.

Katniss made a face. “You’re kidding right?” She snorted.

“Yes, I’m kidding.” Haymitch rolled his eyes. “They’re both peacocks, preeners … The Capitol loves their charm and friendship. They have a lot of support. They would make good allies … but deadly competition.” Haymitch explained.

“Weaknesses?” Peeta questioned, leaning towards his mentor.

“Finnick will have Mags in there, she basically raised him. He’ll want to protect her in whatever ways he can” Haymitch told them, taking a seat. “Y/N … far too trusting at heart and will do anything to protect them both. She’d rather see herself die than her friends.” He stated.

Katniss simply nodded.

Katniss walked into the training room, and scanned her surroundings … She didn’t know these Victors well enough to decide who she wanted to align herself with. According to Haymitch … to make it through the Quarter Quell, she and Peeta needed strong allies. Though she knew deep down the only one she could truly depend on was Peeta.

Katniss walked towards the bow and arrows laying on the table when she heard the sound of a faint giggle, something she thought she would never hear. She looked up, and her eyes moved around the room … finally they landed on the culprit. She frowned at the sight as she watched a blush rise on Y/N’s face. It wasn’t from endurance training, but from Finnick Odair.

Katniss had not taken Finnick, refused to, even … he was far too cocky for her taste and she didn’t want him anywhere near her. But Y/N seemed almost enamoured by him … like she liked … whatever the hell was going on.

Katniss made a mental note of the two, as she headed towards Mags … she would keep that to herself for now. She needed to make some friends here, and Katniss thought that Mags would be a good start.

“You’re going to get us caught, Finnick.” You blushed, pushing him away as you headed in the opposite direction. “Play it cool, Odair … can’t have everyone knowing about us.” You whispered.

“Sorry.” Finnick put his hands up in defence, a small smile lacing his features. “I’ll try to tone it down but looking at you … that’s going to be hard to do.”

“Zip it.” You made the motion of your lips. “We’ve got training to do.” You told him, gesturing towards the room.

Everyone else was laser focused on honing their skills, making it known that they were not to be messed with in the Games. But you two were simply goofing off, and giggling like two schoolgirls who had gossip that no one else knew. You were certain that Snow wasn’t pleased, nor was the new Game Maker but you were in your world. Finnick had always made it hard to concentrate on the task at hand.

You and Finnick had been together for three years. During the 71st Hunger Games you had both been mentors for your respective Districts, and he had confessed to you. It was strange … so confusing to find love in the hardship of the Games but you wouldn’t trade that for the world. You loved him more than anything and he loved you right back. Long distance had been hard at first but you made it work, you would always make it work for him.

“Find me later?” He asked.

“I know your room number.” You said, smiling towards him.

“I don’t know if I’m ready to go back in there.” You whispered, snuggling closer to Finnick.

You knew the plan, and you knew you had to get Katniss and Peeta out of that arena. Plutarch and Haymitch had made that abundantly clear. There was a Rebellion and Plutarch was on your side, he was hiding in plain sight, ready to take down The Capitol. You jumped at the chance to join, even if that meant sacrificing your own life. Finnick had agreed immediately once he knew you were joining. He had always shared your sentiments about having a better future for everyone.

You wanted a better life, a quiet life with him and you would fight for that every single day. You finally had your chance, and you had no idea if it was going to work but you had to try, you had to fight.

“I know.” He whispered, his thumb gliding across your hip. “I’m not either.”

“When we’re in there …” You muttered, kissing his jaw. “You have to remember that Katniss and Peeta are the most important ones there. Okay? You have to protect them first and everything else comes later.”

He smelt like vanilla, probably from the soap supplied from The Capitol, but it was so soothing to you.

“I … I don’t know if I can do that.” Finnick said, plainly. “I know this Rebellion is important … I know that they are important but they’re not the most important things to me, Y/N. You and Mags will always be far more important than some Rebellion.”

“Finnick.” You felt the lump rise in your throat.

This could be the last time that you two were together, and you weren’t handling it well. You knew you would never be safe again after winning The Games. You were well aware that you would never have peace again, but you didn’t think you would be in this position ever again. You certainly didn’t want to be here with Finnick.

“Let’s just be together right now.” He said, kissing the top of your head. “Let’s pretend that nothing is going to happen tomorrow and we're just laying under the stars and nothing is going to go wrong.” His breathing started to even out, and his heartbeat steadied your own.

“Okay.” You whispered, desperately swallowing. “Okay.”

“Finnick! Katniss!” You cried, chasing them into the woods, Johanna and Peeta on your tail.

The Games hadn’t been going as planned.

First you had been separated from Finnick, which had caused you great distress. You ended up pairing with Johanna, Beetee and Wiress, fighting your way through blood rain and wild beasts.

Then you had lost both Wiress and Mags. You had lost so many who joined The Rebellion, you watched the announcements every night and flinched whenever a cannon fired, wondering if you were losing a friend or foe. But you didn’t have time to grieve either of them, so much was at stake. You had to make it through another night to ensure that you would be saved. Giving up when you were so close wasn’t an option

But God you were so tired.

Then … the jabberjays started.

You hated jabberjays.

They hadn't been used during your games, but you knew they tortured anyone who listened.

You had stepped out to find something food for everyone, and Beetee volunteered to come with you. You were all hungry, and getting weaker, especially after the fight at the cornucopia. You needed some sort of energy, and you weren’t going to see anyone die of starvation.

You had been gone for maybe twenty minutes when you heard Katniss scream, shortly followed by Finnick. Fear had seized your heart, as you wasted no time chasing the sounds, Beetee desperately calling for you.

You weren’t afraid to fight whatever threat was out there … especially when Finnick’s life was on the line. You would gladly die if it meant he lived.

You had met up with everyone, chasing down the other two and when you had found them, screaming, Jabberjays fluttering above them … your voice crying for help … you had cried, desperately trying to reach Finnick but to no avail.

He and Katniss were trapped, writhing on the ground … sobbing and there was nothing you could do but wait.

It had been horrible to watch, you could only imagine what they were experiencing.

You didn’t care who knew anymore, you would scream from the rooftops that you were in love with Finnick, if that meant he would be okay. You needed him to be okay.

It seemed like hours before the Jabberjays had flown away, and you had run to his side in an instant. Holding him close to you, assuring him that you were okay.

“Y/N?” His voice sounded so goddamn small.

“I’m here baby.” You whispered, into his ear, gently rocking the man. “I am here, and I am okay. You’re okay.” You leaned in and kissed his forehead.

You were well aware of the shocked eyes on you, no one but Johanna knew anything about the two of you, and you met the brown eyes of Katniss. She seemed the most shocked out of anyone here. You knew she didn’t particularly like Finnick, she had only really met the persona he portrayed to the world. She didn’t know him like you did, you knew his heart.

“Everything is going to be okay.” You told him. “It’s going to be all okay.”

“He loves them.” Katniss said after a moment of silence, watching the two figures in the water.

She wondered how she could have missed it, all the signs were there yet she had been shocked. She didn’t understand the two, probably never would but that wasn’t really any of her concern.

“Yeah.” Johanna nodded. “They do. They’ve been through a lot together, I’ve known for a long time that those two were together. It’s disgusting really how much they love each other, they would quite literally kill for one another. Can’t blame them though, when you find someone like that you keep them close to your heart.” She shrugged.

“I never thought …” Katniss trailed off.

“That anyone could ever love someone that much?” Johanna questioned, crossing her arms. “Well believe it, Katniss, because it’s right there.”

Katniss moved her gaze away from Johanna and back towards the water, the kiss was short and sweet but in that moment she knew that nothing could break those two apart. Nothing would, and they had something worth fighting for.

#moeswriting #writing #hunger games #the hunger games #finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #angst #fluff #katniss everdeen #johanna mason

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bearambles · 7 months ago

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sober (haymitch a.)

words: 3.9k

warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex, p in v, oral (f + m receiving) , teasing (?), too much plot 😭

notes: this is so late! i am so sorry to whoever requested, i got super busy and couldn’t post it the day i planned. also, this is my first ever smut! so i am sorry if this is terrible, i’ll get better over time. enjoy!

The party lasted hours. Your feet hurt, your stomach is churning, and your head pounds. You've never wanted your district bed more than now. This place reeks of wealth and lies.

Unfortunately, skipping these monthly events would anger Snow. He already dislikes you and your district, so you have to do whatever it takes to please him. If that means enduring long nights of drinking and throwing up, so be it. It's better than death, you suppose.

There's only one other District 12 victor here with you, and he disappeared halfway through the night. Haymitch, despite being a good friend and your former mentor, is possibly the worst person to rely on in these social situations. He's been sitting at the bar for who knows how long, drinking who knows how much. It's only when the host literally announces it's time to leave that you find him, slumped over the counter on a stool.

"Haymitch? Come on, we have to go," you urge, shaking his shoulders.

"What? No, let me stay. I'm sleeping," he mumbles.

"You're not sleeping. You're fine. Here, I have one of those drinks that make you throw up. It'll sober you up enough to say goodbyes," you say, handing him the glass. He pushes it back towards you without even looking up.

"I don't want that Capitol shit."

"This Capitol shit will help you a lot right now. Haymitch, get up!" You push his head to the side so you can see his face. He opens his eyes to look at you.

He's only in his late twenties, but his eyes seem older. He looks as rough as he acts. His hair is too long, and his beard is starting to come in slightly, despite him saying he'd groom himself for this occasion. Still, he looks handsome. Not that it matters; his current state reflects his antisocial night.

"Please. I'm trying to keep us out of trouble. You've been alone all night. At least come say goodbye to people with me. Then we can go home, okay?"

If harshness isn’t working, you'll try being soft with him. Sometimes, just sometimes, it works. It seems to today.

He sighs and sits up, steadying himself with his palms flat on the counter. He reaches for the purple liquid and swallows it like a shot, squeezing his eyes shut and grimacing.

"Okay, I'll be back then," he says, going off to throw up.

You nod and take a seat on the stool next to where he was sitting, waiting. You can't help but feel guilty. You should have stayed with him longer that night before he went off on his own. You knew he'd go drinking, but you didn’t know it would get this bad.

Since you've known Haymitch, he's had a bit of a drinking problem. Mostly under control when he mentored you—never more than tipsy. But in recent years, as more of his tributes lost the Games, it's gotten worse. It's weighing on him, you can tell. You want to help so badly.

"Okay, let's go," he says, returning a few minutes later, running his fingers through his hair. He's clearly sobered up a bit, maybe even washed his face. His breath smells of mint.

The host and his wife are among about a dozen people remaining by the time you leave the bar and walk to the main room together. Nonetheless, you both put on a show, shaking hands and smiling, thanking them endlessly. You never know who's watching, present or otherwise.

As you make your rounds to the last few victors, Haymitch latches his arm closely with yours. The move surprises you; you realize he hasn't been this physical in a while. It seems to come with sobriety or maybe just part of the Capitol's show. Together, you almost look like a couple. It's odd.

When you leave through the doors, he doesn't let go of your arm. It's a cold night, and you shiver, but the warmth of his body next to yours feels weirdly nice.

"Thank you," you say, looking up at him on the train ride home.

"For what?" he asks, furrowing his brows.

"For taking the glass. I know you hate that stuff, but—"

"But I need to get sober," he says, looking away from you into the distance.

"I didn't say that, but it's nice when you are. I mean, it's helpful with the image when you aren't stumbling around—"

He detaches his arm from yours.

"So I shouldn't drink because the President said so?"

"He didn't say so, Haymitch. I'm saying so. You shouldn't drink because I say so."

"And why's that?"

"Because I like you better like this."

He goes quiet, then looks down at his feet, his hair falling in his eyes.

"Yeah, well, it's harder than it looks, sweetheart."

"I know that. I'm sorry," you say softly.

The rest of the ride is quiet. It's just the two of you on the train, and any sound you make seems to echo for ages. Neither of you wants to speak; too much is unsaid.

You care about him; you know that. You just aren't sure how. Though it seems increasingly clear to you in moments like this when all you want to do is tuck his hair behind his ear and kiss him softly. You have no idea how he'd feel about that, though. You have no idea how he feels most of the time.

In fact, just then, it's the first time he's seemed to feel bad about his drinking. And it doesn't seem like he cares about his health or the Capitol's opinion on his image. It seems like he feels bad for disappointing you.

When the train stops, you both get out, him first, then you. He offers his hand as you step down, and you take it with a slight smile. His hands are cold, as is the night.

Your houses are directly next to each other in Victor's Village, making the walk there excruciatingly awkward. You can't tell what he's thinking, or if he's thinking at all. Finally, after what feels like an hour, he speaks.

"That stuff is really nasty, you know that?" he says.

You look up at him. "The purging stuff?"

"No, the desserts they were serving," he says, rolling his eyes and bumping his shoulder against yours. "Yeah, the purging stuff."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. You're right. What you said and stuff. That's all right. You're right."

You smile and look up at him. He looks back at you and smiles softly, then looks away. He clearly hates to admit it.

"Don't be cocky about it, though. And don't expect me to stop. It's not that easy."

"I don't. I just like you like this."

"Yeah, you mentioned that. What do you mean?"

You've reached your house, and he stops in front of your door, feet planted. He looks down at you with a questioning gaze, and his blue eyes seem to dart across your face. Your cheeks flush. You have no idea what to respond.

"You know, just... sober," you say, looking away.

"No, I know, but the 'like' part. What do you mean? Because you got all shy when you said it," he says, swaying a bit where he stands, impatiently waiting for a response.

"I don't know," you say quietly.

"You don't know?"

"No. I think we should go to sleep. You should go to sleep. No more drinks. At least wait until tomorrow."

You try to push past him to your door, but he takes both hands out of his pockets and gently shoves your shoulders back. Not hard, but enough to make you stumble. He gazes down at you and steps forward, closing the space between you.

"Whoa, you're so eager all of a sudden. Look at me," he says, tilting your head up with a hand under your chin. "Why are you so embarrassed?"

"I'm not."

"Yeah, you are. You like me?"

"Haymitch, stop. You're—" You stop, tears pricking at your eyes. He's teasing you, you're sure of it. The last thing you want is for him to figure out your feelings. Not after he's been your mentor, not after he's seen you at your worst, after he's been your friend (?) for this long. It doesn't make sense. You know that. And he knows that, most definitely. That's why you're sure he doesn't feel that way towards you. He can't.

"You're crying. I thought you were all tough?" he says.

He's right. You were tough. Crying makes you weak. You hate talking like this. So honestly.

"Stop it," you jerk away from his hand, which had crept up to your cheek. "Go to bed."

But you don't take a step forward, don't shove past him again. You just stand there, your breath heavy, looking away. He gazes at you like he's seeing you for the first time, his eyes darting from your eyes to your mouth to your body.

"I don't want to. I want to talk to you," he finally says.

"About what?" you say, still looking away.

"Us," he says softly.

"What about us?"

He takes a step forward.

"Come on, sweetheart. You're so good to me. Take care of me. Trust in me. Give me hope."

Your breathing speeds up as you feel his hand stoke your arm gently up and down as he speaks. You’d always been cautious of his words, so used to his drunken thoughts being untrustworthy and sometimes cruel. But this feels honest. Real.

“I know you feel something.” he says as you lift your head to look back at him. “You might not know what. I don’t know either. But c’mon.”

He starts to lean closer and your eyes drift closed. Before you can even register, his lips are on yours, and you’re kissing back. Your hands hold his elbows and his hold your face.

His mouth tastes of the mouthwash from the capitol washrooms. He’s so slow with you, like he’s trying not to scare you. You aren’t sure if he possibly could.

Suddenly you pull away.

“What’s wrong?” Haymitch asks, his eyes wide.

“We should go inside.”

“Oh. Yeah.” He registers quickly what you mean.

All along the village are cameras for the capitol to see what goes on. Although it’s unlikely you’d get in much trouble for a kiss, you never knew what would land you a meeting with snow. Or just become the talk of the next victor event.

You push past him and unlock your door quickly, before turning back to him, motioning for him to come inside. By the time you close the door, he’s kissing you again, this time the careful act gone. He catches your lips and kisses you like his life depended on it. It’s messy and wet and you’re so turned on it’s insane.

His hands both reach down to hold yours, and he pushes them up against the door. The motion catches you by surprise and you moan softly into his mouth. He hears you and holds down tighter on your wrists, just enough to feel but not to hurt.

His knee starts to spread your legs apart slowly as he kisses down your neck, and you let his name slip from your mouth.

“Haymitch~”

He stops to look at you.

“Yeah? You like this?” He sounds like he’s genuinely asking. Like he needs to know.

You nod, your brain already fuzzy.

“Okay. Okay.” He sounds out of breath but resumes

his task, getting down to your collarbone.

Hes rough with his kisses when he’s below where any marks would be seen. As he unbuttons your shirt, he looks at you, smiling like an idiot. It hits you then that he seems to have wanted this as badly as you all along. He leans in to leave a soft kiss on your lips before pulling your sleeves off your arms and throwing your top to the floor.

“Jesus…” He mutters as he looks down at your tits.

You reach behind you to unhook your bra, and let it all forward and land next to your shirt.

“Holy fuck.”

You laugh quietly at his words. He looks up at you in awe and with a look of asking as he creeps his hands from your waist up to your chest. You nod and let out a sharp breath when his cold hands hold your tits and knead them slowly.

You wonder then if he’d ever done this with a woman before. He was younger than you when he won, so probably not before the games. And after…he’d never really seemed the type. But then again, he was attractive and still young, so you couldn’t be sure.

Besides him, you’d only been with one or two boys from district before you were reaped. They were, however, nothing like this.

He takes one nipple between his thumb and pointer, pinching slightly. Between the pressure and his cold hands, you let out a noise of surprise and pleasure.

“Does that hurt?” He asks

“No, just…it’s a lot.” You say through deep breaths. “K-keep going.”

He smiles and does the same with the other, and your hips jut forward slightly in reaction. He doesn’t notice, which you’re grateful for. You’re so eager it’s embarrassing. Every touch makes your stomach flip and your underwear wetter.

Slowly he starts to kiss down from your collarbones to your chest and takes a breast in his mouth. He looks up at you as he sucks softly, his tongue swirling your nipple. His big eyes looking into yours makes you feel like you could cum then and there. you let out a moan instead.

He plays with your breasts for a while longer before they’re nice and covered in both his spit and dark, red marks. He knew what he was doing, putting them where nobody could see. you thought of changing in front of a mirror days to come, just looking at them. Knowing it was from him. sober. He wants this.

He gets to his knees before you can stop him, and begins to pull down your skirt.

You’re left in your underwear, your slick having left a clear spot in the front. You turn your head in embarrassment as he touches up your thighs and leaves open mouth kisses.

“All this from that, huh?” he asks, laughing softly

“Shut up.” you mutter into your hand.

“You want me to stop?” he asks, his fingers hooked under the sides of your panties.

“N-no.”

“What was that sweetheart? C’mon, look at me.”

“Don’t stop.” you say, clearer now, making eye contact as he kneels in front of your pussy. You couldn’t be more vulnerable, and yet, you trust him with every inch of your being.

He looks back at your core for a moment before licking a stripe up the thin fabric. You curse quietly and he pulls them down, the air hitting your heat before his tongue does. But when it does…

He laps at you like he’d wanted to for years, which you’re now sure that he has. The urgency makes your legs buckle and he uses both hands against your knees to hold them open. He switches between your folds and your clit, paying attention to both. Every so often he stops and just admires.

At some point haymitch sucks at your clit, and your hands fly to his hair, pulling slightly.

He lets out a groan of surprise against your core.

“Sorry, sorry…” you mutter, loosening your grip.

“No, keep going, I like it.” he says, stopping to look up at you, his eyes nearly glazed over in bliss.

You resume your hold on his head and tug as he continues. Between his lips and his tongue, you’re overwhelmed. before you know it, you feel the coil in your stomach tighten.

“Stop…stop…” you manage in between moans.

He gives you one last kiss to your clit before standing up, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You okay?”

“Just don’t wanna finish yet.” you say without thinking, before getting flushed. Even after all that, you couldn’t believe you were speaking to him like this. Haymitch.

He smiles lazily and goes in to kiss you again, and you can taste yourself on his tongue. It should repulse you, but instead, it turns you on more. He's so happy right now, and it’s so hot.

“Do you wanna go to my bed?” you ask him when you get a breath, his forehead resting against yours.

He picks you up and carries you.

Haymitch knows your house as well as his from all the press training, meetings, and late night conversations you’ve had there. He practically lives with you at this point (Besides the sleeping over part. Usually. Unless he’d passed out.)

He drops you on your mattress and pulls off his own shirt in one motion. Your breath is caught in your throat.

You knew he was in shape, at least he was when he had mentored you all those years ago. But even now, behind the big shirts he wears and raggedy jackets, soft abs trace his stomach. His arms as big as your thighs. No wonder the pressure on your neck felt so nice.

He sees you staring and smiles, leaning down to tuck your hair behind your ear.

“You gonna say anything, pretty girl?”

You try, but you find no words. Instead, you kiss him, and slowly trail your hands down his chest. you can feel raised scars and for a moment, remember what he’s been through. What you both have been through.

You reach his belt and whisper into his mouth,

“Can i?”

He nods against your forehead and you start to undo it, throwing it to the side. You pull his pants down with urgency and run your palm against his boxers.

He lets out a noise you’ve never heard him make before, a mix between a whimper and a moan. You smile and start to palm him faster, before taking him out of his underwear and looking between you at his length.

He’s bigger than you expect, and definitely bigger than the boys you’ve been with before. A solid seven inches and thick. Your eyes can’t look away and your breath rises and falls.

He takes your hand softly into his and guides it to his length. He looks up at you as he does, searching for any hesitation in your eyes. Instead, you look up at him before flipping you both over quickly, so you sit on his thighs.

He’s strong, but so are you, and he doesn’t resist as you take charge over him. He does, however, look a bit surprised, and reaches to hold your hand again. You take it and kiss it, which he smiles at. Then, you lean down, and let a glob of spit dribble from your mouth to his cock.

“Jesus christ…” he mutters, as you use your free hand to pump up and down. “When did you…fuck…feels so good sweetheart”

You smile and take him in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down quickly. His other hand still holding yours, he grips at your hair (much gentler than you did his) and makes a make-shift ponytail so he can see your pretty face.

Despite the view, his eyes flutter shut in pleasure, and your pace quickens. You feel him pulse inside your mouth and you’re sure he’s about to cum.

You take him as deep as you can before pulling off, leaving his cock hard as a rock and covered in your saliva. You admire your work for a moment before he reaches forward and pulls you on top of him by your hips so you’re right against his chest.

“C’mere” he moans, fucked out, before taking his cock in his own hand and looking over your shoulder to position himself in front of your entrance.

“You want this?” he asks, taking your cheek in his free hand and stroking his thumb against it.

“Please.” you whisper.

Slowly, he inserts himself into you, catching your moans in his mouth as he kisses you slowly. He stretches you out so well, and your slick helps him move without much pain. Still, you bite down on his lip at the feeling of being full once he’s in. You let out a whimper.

“I know baby, I know. Shhhh. Tell me when to move, okay?” he looks into your eyes.

For a moment you just kiss him, his mouth so warm on yours and his cock so warm inside you. You could die like this.

Then, you pull away, and lift your hips, before slowly moving back down.

“Fuck…” he moans, before catching into the pace you set and moving you up and down on his cock. “So perfect for me, yeah? You feel that?”

You nod dumbly at his words. He could say anything to you at this moment, and you’d agree. He feels so good. So right.

“You wanted this huh? Is that why you want me sober? To fuck me?” he asks, and you shake your head as you bounce on his dick.

“Hm, but that’s part of it, yeah?” he insists, “You like this. Me. C’mon sweetheart, you’re needy. That's okay, I'm givin’ it to you. I'm here.”

You fall against him and place your head on his shoulder as he fucks into you like you’re a doll. He knows just what to say to get you so embarrassed and so wet. The words only add to your pleasure and you can feel yourself getting close.

“Haymitch…” you moan against his shoulder.

“M’ close pretty thing.”

He takes one of the arms holding your hips and moves to your clit, rubbing quickly. The feeling sends you over the edge.

“Fuck, haymitch, i’m cumming~” you mutter, raising your head to look at him as you fletch down and your orgasm washes over you.

As you come down from your high, he speeds up rutting into you, and you put each hand on one of his shoulders for support. His eyes are closed and his mouth slightly open as he mind your name over and over like a prayer.

He lifts you off of his cock and back onto his thighs before cumming all over your belly. You reach a hand down to stroke him as he does, but he catches your wrist. He’s sensitive, you can tell, and you laugh softly.

“Sorry pretty girl. Made a mess.” he says, looking in between the two of you. Between his cum and yours, there’s not a part of either of you that isn’t slick. He takes a finger and swipes a bit of his own before putting it in front of your mouth. Grinning, you take it in your mouth and suck, tasting him.

“Jesus.” he says softly, as you lay down next to him, your face buried into his neck.

You lay there like that for a moment, breathing. His hair sticks to his face in certain places, and his cheeks are rosy. The reality of what had happened hits you.

“You know, this isn’t the only reason you should drink less-“ You begin, propping your head up on your hand.

He sighs.

“I know. I’m too happy right now for lectures though, alright?”

You consider for a moment before deciding that’s fair. Laying back down, you cuddle into his side.

“You admit this is part of why though, huh?” he says after a few moments, and you can hear the smugness in his voice.

“Was it worth it?” you ask

There’s a pause.

“I’d do anything for you.” he answers.

And for now?

That’s all you need.

tysm for reading! like + reblog if you enjoyed :)

#haymitch abernathy #haymitch x reader #haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch smut #haymitch abernathy smut #the hunger games #the hunger games smut #the hunger games fic

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nebulablakemurphy · 1 year ago

Text

Moves & Countermoves (Part 24)

Part 23

Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing.

“Lean your head back, so I can rinse.” Y/N instructs Katniss, gently.

It’s been two weeks back in twelve. The Abernathy family, Katniss, Cashmere and Johanna. Peeta had to stay behind, not quite ready to be exposed to all the potential triggers of home.

Cashmere and Madge had no problem cozying up in the Abernathy home. However Katniss keeps to her own house in Victor’s Village and Johanna has agreed to stay in the house gifted to Y/N after her win. Finnick and Annie will visit too, of course. After the baby.

The girl on fire sits in the tub, knees pulled up to her chest, with both arms around them, as her former mentor washes her hair. Katniss can’t bring herself to do much these days. Rotting away on the couch, after Prim… But Y/N is nothing if not stubborn and loves Katniss more than her own mother ever could.

When Y/N is finished, she leaves Katniss to dry off. “I’ll bring you something to eat.”

Katniss blinks at her, nodding. She does not speak.

Y/N returns to her own home, bustling with life. Nothing here is still. The victor dances past her oldest daughter, twirling about the living room to music. Moving carefully behind the house of cards that Everest and Cashmere are building on the dining table and into the kitchen.

Haymitch follows her there, Daisy in his arms. He hardly puts her down. “How is she?” Katniss.

Y/N sucks in a breath. “You should go see her, Haymitch. Maybe she’ll talk to you.”

“What makes you think she’ll talk to me?”

“Because you understand each other.” Y/N says, “I love her, she knows I do. But it’s not the same. She needs you.”

“And if you’re wrong?” Haymitch frowns, “if it sets her off? Makes it worse?”

“The last thing Katniss needs right now, is to feel like another person has abandoned her.” Like her mother. Like Gale. “Especially you. You don’t have to say anything, just be there.” Y/N wrings her hands, anxiously. “Please.”

Haymitch shakes his head, bouncing between feet, when Daisy begins to fuss. “The things I do for you.”

Y/N half smiles, “gimme the baby.”

At this he hesitates. It is hard enough being in a separate room from his children. Or not to holler in protest, each time Y/N moves out of his sight.

“Haymitch?” Y/N rests a hand against his back.

It’s not you, it’s me. “Here.” He forces a smile, passing off their child.

“Haymitch, what’s wrong?” Y/N wonders, adjusting the infant in her arms.

“Nothing.” He clears his throat, “it’s nothing.”

“But-”

“I love you.” Haymitch tells his wife, pecking a kiss to her lips, “nothing’s wrong.”

Y/N pulls back, slightly, studying him. “I love you too.”

He pats her cheek, in parting. Hurrying out the door, before Y/N can get a word in.

“You guys are disgusting.” Johanna remarks, leaning heavily against the refrigerator.

Y/N murmurs. “Yeah.”

“I’m out of eggs.” Johanna adds, to explain her presence.

“We have plenty. Help yourself.” Y/N waves toward the fridge.

“There’s something wrong with him.”

“I know.”

“What are you gonna do about it? You’re Mrs. Fix It. That’s why we’re all here. So you can fix us.” Johanna scoffs, “you can’t even fix yourself.”

“I can,” Y/N cuts her off. “I will.”

“You think I haven’t noticed there’s a room you can’t even go in?” Johanna continues.

“It’s not what you think.”

“I think you’re afraid of old hunks of metal that used to record you getting your rocks off.” Johanna crosses both arms over her chest. “They can’t hurt you.”

“They can hurt me.” Y/N purses her lips, “they did.”

“You should get rid of them.” Johanna suggests.

“I can’t.” I just can’t.

“My head doctor would call it ‘exposure therapy.’”

“Will you help me?”

Johanna huffs a laugh. “What are friends for?”

————————————————————————

That night, after the children are fast asleep, Y/N tosses and turns in bed.

“Just say it.” Haymitch snaps.

“It’s nothing.” Y/N whispers, “I’m sorry.” She turns away from Haymitch, nuzzling her back against his chest, until he has no choice but to wrap his arms around her.

“Angel,” Haymitch pauses, trying to find the right words. “I’ve never done this before.”

“Done what?”

“Been free.” Haymitch confesses, “not since the games, never as an adult. Never as a husband or a father; and I am terrified that at any moment, all of this is going to be taken away from me.”

Y/N squeezes his hand, a bit tighter. “Sometimes I think that too.” We’ve been playing the game too long. “Do you think we’ll get used to it? Being free?”

Haymitch sighs, pressing his lips to her shoulder. “I hope so, angel.”

This is new. Haymitch having hope. “Me too.”

————————————————————————

Nights bleed into days. Days into weeks.

Daisy naps contently, in the sling against Y/N’s chest, while she tidies the kitchen.

Everest and Haymitch have set out to pluck weeds from the pathway between houses of Victor’s Village.

Arista is playing in the backyard.

The birds chirp.

The sun shines.

Then Arista screams. “Mommy!”

Y/N abandons the pan she is washing, into the sink, water still running, as she races toward the sound of her daughter’s voice. “Arista!”

“Mommy! Daddy! Hurry!”

Haymitch and Everest rush toward her cry. “Arista!”

Y/N finds her first, at the far edge of their yard, hunched over a mass of white feathers. “Arista? Are you ok?”

“He came back.” Arista tells her mother, with overjoyed tears in her eyes. “Louie came back.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Y/N chokes down the panic that has risen in her throat. “That’s wonderful.”

Everest comes to a stop beside his mother, panting as he takes in the scene before him. “She’s ok?”

“Yeah,” Y/N reaches a hand over, to ruffle his hair. “We’re all ok now.”

Haymitch joins them last, out of breath, face flushed. “Is everything-”

Y/N turns to him, with a grin. “Louie came home.”

“It’s just the goose.” Haymitch can’t help but laugh. “Just the god damn goose.”

————————————————————————

That night, at dinner, with Madge, Cashmere, Johanna and even Katniss, the phone rings. The sound of it still jarring, after being without a form of easy communication between districts for so long.

Maybe it’s Annie and Finnick.

Maybe there is news in the Capitol.

Maybe Effie.

“I’ll get it.” Johanna volunteers.

Y/N holds up a hand, not wanting to speak with a mouthful of food.

“Or not.”

“I’ve got it.” Y/N excuses herself from the table, into the hallway. Lifting the phone from the receiver to her ear; heart pounding. “Hello.”

“Y/N, it’s me.”

Her free hand comes up to her heart, attempting to quiet the ache. “Peeta, hi. How are you?”

“Better, I’m good.”

“That’s good, honey.” Y/N blinks back tears. “That’s so good to hear.”

“Dr. Aurelius says I’m free to leave the hospital, as long as I keep up with sessions over the phone.” He sounds nervous, like the other shoe is about to drop.

Maybe he’s staying with Effie in the Capitol.

“The train leaves tomorrow morning.”

“Can I- I’ll come get you from the train station?”

“Yes.” Peeta says, immediately. “That would be great.”

“Ok,” Y/N breathes, “that’s perfect. I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon.”

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#moves & countermoves #haymitch abernathy fanfic #haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch abernathy x y/n #haymitch abernathy #haymitch x reader #haymitch abernathy x you #the hunger games fanfiction #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #haymitch abernathy fanfiction #haymitch fanfic #thg haymitch

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lost-in-beacon-hills · 1 year ago

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I think at this point everyone has different opinions on each of the Districts and honestly I love that. It's so fun to read people's thoughts.

(I'm sure I'm not the first person to think or say this but) I have a theory on why District One/Two win so many of the games beyond just being Volunteers in a game full of people going in blind.

It's something I've thought heavily about and even incorporated into my own fanfics.

But District One, I think, they win by raising their volunteers to be pretty. They train them to fight, yes, but I think they pull sponsors by making their kids "sexy." In both the book and movie, Glimmer is heavily sexualized. In the book, she's in a sheer gown that shows everything. In the movie, they tone it down but still show quite a bit of her body during the interview. Even the two victors we get to hear a little more about (Cashmere and Gloss) are mentioned to be pretty. Despite being a sibling duo, they're incredibly popular within the Capitol.

But even after they get 'popular' they don't turn down their attractiveness. She still dresses pretty with make up and smiles like she's been taught to do. He's still beefy and hot. You would think if they had any bodily autonomy they would start to tone themselves down in order to get away from the sex slavery.

I think sex appeal is what makes them a victor. Literally. People 'sponsor' them in the hopes of getting to fuck them. They get told that these people are who they're indebted to and most likely are forced into sex as a way to 'repay' them. Everyone says if Glimmer had won she would become the next Cashmere. Which is true. But no one points out how this is planned and a tactic that one consistently uses. Once they win they realize how fucked they are. They don't know they shouldn't want to win until it's over. It's too late to back out. Part of why Cashmeres life is devastating is because Gloss knew what was coming and he wanted better for her. But it happened away. And now they're stuck repaying the Capitol with their bodies.

In Two I think they raise fighters. They put all their effort into skill, endurance and survival. Out of all of the districts I think they do the best at giving them a chance. They make sure they send the best trained, the most skilled and the smartest. Clove is such a good example of this. She never missed her target. (Except for when Katniss moved the backpack making her miss). She was brilliant. Cato too. He was strong and a fantastic fighter. They only lost because the story demanded Katniss win. Hell there's so many moments where Katniss almost dies at their hands only to **magically** get away. (Thresh owing her, tracker jacker nest, not seeing her a few feet away) all of it. They weren't stupid meat heads. They were warriors. Children raised to kill.

I think they delbrately send plain victors. They don't want want to send "pretty" kids. They tone down any sort of beauty their tributes have. One of my favorite examples is Enobaria. She's pretty. And I think that's her downfall. It's mentioned in the series that she wins by ripping another tributes throat out with her teeth. (A popular theory is she was raped and used the very last thing she had in order to get away.) But she ends up getting her teeth filed down. While a lot of people think it was the Capitol, I believe it was her mentors. They filed them down, knowing she wouldn't be able to be raped again. I mean, who would have sex with her knowing one wrong move and you could be dead? She can bite your dick off in seconds if she wanted to. (Not to say she doesn't get booked) It would sway a lot of people away. I think much like Haymitch fighting against Katniss's breast implants, her mentors fought to get her teeth sharpened.

If they're able to I believe Two will alter the victors in order to make them less desirable. One plays it up, Two tones it down winning off skill and merit alone. Any sponsors they get isn't driven by sex.

It's why they win so much, and why the other districts have such a hard time getting sponsors.

I also think that District Four, the last of the career pack, has it's own way of creating victors. They send tributes like the rest but I think they do something different from the rest. My own headcanon is that they send orphans. It's fucked up but if I remember correctly they never mention Finnick having family.

I think they take the kids with nowhere else to go and put them in a training center. Whoever scores the best goes that year. Unluckily for Finnick, he was picked at 14. He was attractive, and part of me thinks Mags played into that to give him the advantage, thinking he didn't have family to leverage. It would have been fine, but then Annie happened. They use her as a control tactic.

I also think Finnick is the reason it was a one and done on leaning into the sex appeal. It fucked him over. Annie was pretty too but she wasn't used. (No one has ever said ah yes she's crazy let's just not rape her, fuckwads do it anyways.) But I think Mags learned from her mistake and played Annie down. Made her less pretty like they do in Two.

It's fucked. The entire system is fucked. But I think each 'career' district creates winners any way they can. No one in Four would volunteer they're disillusioned unlike one and two. So why not send the kids who have nothing, no one to come back to? In Two why not train them and maim them after to keep them safer? In One why not make them fuckable to win? They won't understand until its too late?

Maybe I've overthought this. Probably have. Idk. Just a thought.

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greywitchproject · 3 months ago

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More of this

Sorry if you can't read my handwriting lol.

I wanted to doodle stuff and I keep thinking of the au in which Effie is a Tribute and Haymitch is a mentor (?).

Anyway let me ramble, I truly think Effie would be a merchant girl because of her blonde hair and blue eyes. And then I got the idea of her being a seamstress from a fic called needlework by ivyeyed, which is one of my favorite hayffie fics ever.

I wanted to keep Effie's personality still in this au (or at least Effie's personality in fanon). After the reaping I kinda see her using that bubbly personality as a facade to fool everyone so people would underestimate her and make them feel comfortable with her enough to let their guard down. Or I can also see it as her way to cope with things.

I'm still playing around with Haymitch's character in this au. I still haven't decided if the setting is like in tbosas. Haymitch could be half capitol half district (like Sejanus). Or he could be a recent Victor about to mentor new tributes (like Finnick with Annie).

Idk I'll probably draw more of this au if I feel like it. Who knows.

#hayffie #effie trinket #the hunger games #haymitch abernathy #thg #haymitch x effie

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ilguna · 1 year ago

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If you are willing to do another haymitch could I please get #6 from list one? Thank you

☼ beneath the surface (Haymitch Abernathy) ☼

warnings; swearing, death mention, drinking mention, haymitch gets a concussion.

wc; 3.3k

prompt; 6. to outsiders, it looks like they don't get along at all.

notes; there's a 14 year age gap...

There is nothing more sickening than watching the roped-off section at the front of the stage begin to fill with young faces. Each year, you promise yourself that you’re going to show up a little later to the reaping to avoid the unavoidable nausea, but the restlessness gets the better of you.

So, you always get the displeasure of sitting on the stage and seeing every face, wondering which two will be the unlucky chosen ones. You used to be one of them almost ten years ago. You were just a face in the crowd of hundreds in the eighteen-year-old section in District Twelve.

You see a reflection of yourself in the older kids the most. The fleeting innocence, the fear, the determination, the hope that you’ll make it through one more year. All for it to be crushed in the span of thirty minutes.

The odds should’ve been in your favor—you never put your name in more times in exchange for Tessera. Which means that in a glass bowl that contained thousands of paper slips, only seven of them had your name written across them in clean handwriting. And still, you were picked.

The terror that took over your body in that moment still frequently returns itself to you. As your life flashed before your eyes, you remembered the amount of Career wins in recent years. And all the District Twelve tributes that never made it to the final ten. How this was going to be your fate in a short week.

Fortunately, it wasn’t. By some miracle, you managed to break a curse on District Twelve that had lasted fifteen years. The same curse that had a fifty year run before Haymitch Abernathy won the Quarter Quell. Not that it matters, because it’s beginning to build up again, anyway.

It’s nothing that you can help.

Which sounds awful, and you’re acutely aware of that, but you’ve tried every trick in the book. You’ve taken advice from other mentors, you’ve listened to Haymitch’s experience, you’ve used ideas that come to you in the middle of the night. The truth is that District Twelve is doomed.

It’s hard being a mentor, knowing that your efforts don’t really make a difference in your tribute’s survival unless they’re willing to try. It’s so rare to come across them. The tributes nowadays default to the idea that they’re going to die, which isn’t necessarily true.

Of course, they were born in this black vortex, but they can crawl out of it. It’s been done twice, by Haymitch and then by you. When you try to explain to them exactly what they have to do, they realize how much energy it’ll take. And because you don’t sugarcoat the fact that they probably won’t even catch the attention of the Capitol despite your steps, they don’t bother to continue.

It’s like they want the attention, the sponsors, the good scores and the alliances handed to them on a platter. Which is such a ridiculous concept, because when has a single person from District Twelve ever been handed those opportunities? You can’t figure out where they got this fantasy from.

Regardless, it always ends up going the same way. They let the Capitol week play out the same way it has for years, ultimately screwing them over. They put in no effort for the Tribute Parade, they don’t bother with the Training Center, and they end with low scores. It’s always by then where they come to their senses, because there’s a day before the interview, where there’s one-on-one coaching.

Due to you asking questions on their angle, their plan, what they’re willing to reveal to Caesar and the Capitol, it gets the gears turning. They realize that they’ve made a mistake, and they rely on you to fix it, but it’s always too late. You can’t come back from just a single interview.

As much as you try to help the tributes that come through, you’ve begun to slack. In the past, you jumped on them as soon as they got on the train. It was the best way to maximize their time with you, getting them a head-start, preparing them for what’s to come. Now, you observe them, and come to your own conclusions on whether or not they’ll listen to what you have to say.

Recently, you’ve been calling it the Haymitch spiral. This is exactly how he must’ve felt for the first few beginning years of mentoring, until the shine wore off and he realized that this is a rigged game. You were lucky enough to get him while he was still semi-sober, and your win even set him back on track for a couple more years.

It didn’t last long, though. He was gone by the time the Sixty-Seventh Hunger Games came around. For the first time, you were on your own to figure things out. The tributes made it farther than you thought they would under your guidance, and when you remarked to Haymitch that with his help, they could’ve made it, he brushed you off.

A part of you despises him for this, for throwing away every tribute that comes in his direction. For rubbing it in your face afterward because you tried to make a difference. It takes everything in you not to shove it all back onto him sometimes. All you’d have to say is, “No wonder we’ve lost dozens of teenagers, they had you to help them.”

You know that if you did ever say that, then he’d shut down. Which you can’t afford him to do. There's moments of clarity where he’ll help, telling the tributes factors that you didn’t even think of. But these times are so few and far between that they hold practically no worth.

As much as you’ve learned to love and appreciate Haymitch, you truly hope that you never end up like him. That you lose so much hope and self-control that you end up with a drinking problem and blurry memories for the rest of your life. It’s your worst nightmare.

As the time nears two o’clock, the flow of teenagers go from a slow trickle to a steady flow. They shuffle into their designated areas, choosing the spots where they’ll be hidden the most from the cameras. From the prying eyes of the Capitol.

You reach up to brush a dribble of sweat from your forehead. If there’s one day out of the year that you can count on being uncomfortable, it’s reaping day. The dry heat has been particularly torturous this year. It makes you look forward to being on the train, at least it’s air conditioned.

As if activated by your movement, Effie Trinket leans in your direction, the gentle pink curls of her wig tickling the side of your face, so that she can whisper without alerting Mayor Undersee. “Where is Haymitch?”

Your face twists, moving away from her to get some space between you, allowing you to see the look on her face, which has been painted white this afternoon. You scratch your skin to make the feeling go away.

“He couldn’t even pull himself out of bed this morning. I just left him there.” You whisper, eyes sliding away, to the crowded streets, wondering if you’ll be able to spot him. “He managed to leave the neighborhood at the same time I did, if I had to guess…” You trail off, looking in the direction of the Hob, where the white liquor is sold for cheap.

“Again?” She asks incredulously, as if the idea is outrageous when you’re talking about Haymitch. It’s not the first time that he’s shown up to the reaping drunk, but if he doesn’t come soon, he’ll be late. Which will be a first for him. “You need to find him.”

You shrug. “And do what, Effie?” You look at Mayor Undersee, “Excuse me, what time is it?”

He raises his eyebrows, flipping up his wrist to look at the watch. His eyebrows draw in, “I’d say five minutes to two.”

Effie’s eyes have widened. “We’ll get in trouble, (Y/n).”

“It’s not like I can get up and look for him.” You throw your hands up, they slap the top of your knees when they land.

Effie presses her lips together, unhappy with your indifference. Neither of you speak for the remaining five minutes, which you spend hoping that Haymitch will appear out of thin air. When the clock strikes two, Mayor Undersee gets to his feet, heading for the podium. He can’t wait for Haymitch.

He begins to read the history of Panem, which is done every year at the reaping. He talks about the disasters, the droughts, the storms, the fires, and the seas that claimed hundreds of miles of land. A war was fought to claim what was left of it, with the result being Panem.

A Capitol surrounded by thirteen districts, that was supposed to bring peace and prosperity to its residents. It was gone when the Dark Days came, the districts rebelling against the Capitol. Out of the thirteen districts, only twelve survived. The Treaty of Treason was written up to guarantee peace, the Hunger Games being part of the new law.

“It is both a time for repentance and a time for thanks.” Mayor Undersee says. “District Twelve has had three victors in its time of existence. An unknown woman, Haymitch Abernathy, and (Y/n) (L/n).”

A voice shouts something slurred and unintelligible. You glance over to see if the Peacekeepers are reacting, when you find that it’s Haymitch, struggling to get up the stairs safely. You sit up in your seat, watching as he stumbles across the stage, drunk.

The crowd applauds like they’re supposed to after the announcement of the victors. A sloppy smile crosses Haymitch’s face, as he falls into the empty chair beside you. The smell of liquor burns your nose, making your face twist as you go to look away.

Haymitch reaches over, a hand on your cheek as he directs his face to yours. You place your hand over his mouth, shaking your head, disturbed. “Will you pull yourself together?”

“May I introduce District Twelve’s wonderful Capitol escort, Effie Trinket?” The mayor asks, trying to save the moment.

Effie gets to her feet, straightening out her spring green suit. She heads for the podium, while Mayor Undersee comes back to the row of chairs with wide eyes in your direction. As if he’s asking for you to get a handle of Haymitch. You’re not his babysitter—you’re hardly even his girlfriend. He’s a grown man, he doesn’t want to listen to you.

“Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!” Effie bubbles, tilting her head.

You should be past the point of fixing Haymitch’s behavior, especially since what you say goes in one ear and out the other. This might be your breaking point, with him showing up late and drunk and then embarrassing you. It’s fine if he doesn’t want to be taken seriously with the Capitol, but you’re still trying to be a good mentor.

“It is such an honor to be here today.” She says, placing a white-gloved hand over her chest, as if she’s being sincere. “It’s always such a pleasure being here in District Twelve, seeing all of your lovely faces.” She takes in a breath. “Ladies first!”

She crosses the stage to go to the glass ball with the girls’ names. She stops in front of it, reaching inside, digging her hand deep into the thousands of slips of paper. She pulls one out from the bottom, making her way back to the podium.

The square has fallen completely silent. She opens the piece of paper, reads it to herself silently, before looking up to the teenagers that are presented in front of her.

“Primrose Everdeen.”

A girl materializes out of the twelve-year-old section at the very back. You sigh, sinking in your chair. The crowd gathered around begins to talk amongst themselves happily, which is common when a tribute so young is picked. No one thinks it’s fair, not even the ones that illegally bet.

Primrose is pale, hands clenched in fists at her sides, taking small steps toward the stage. She makes it past the sixteen section, before there’s an objection. “Prim!” A cry cuts through the silence. “Prim!”

You watch as an older girl makes her way through the crowd, as the teenagers part to let her free. Primrose is just reaching the first step when the older one moves her away. “I volunteer!” She gasps. “I volunteer as tribute!”

You sit upright in your chair again, looking at Mayor Undersee. He’s got a deep crease between his eyebrows, eyes slightly squinted, staring ahead, thinking. District Twelve never gets volunteers, it’s likely been decades since it last happened. In other districts, teenagers fight to be the tributes that year.

“Lovely!” Effie chirps. “But I believe there’s a small matter of introducing the reaping winner and then asking for volunteers, and if one does come forth then we, um…” She’s lost confidence in herself.

“What does it matter?” The mayor says, face grave. “What does it matter? Let her come forward.”

Primrose is beginning to scream, latching onto the volunteer. “No, Katniss! No! You can’t go!”

“Prim, let go.” Katniss says harshly, trying to pry Primrose’s arms off. “Let go!”

A male slips out of the eighteen section, coming for the both of them. He grabs onto Primrose, pulling her into his arms, where she begins to trash violently. He says something to Katniss, before walking to the end of the aisle, where a crying mother has a hand over her mouth.

“Well, bravo!” Effie gushes. “That’s the spirit of the Games! What’s your name?”

Katniss has made it onto the stage. “Katniss Everdeen.”

“I bet my buttons that was your sister. Don’t want her to steal all the glory, do we? Come on, everybody! Let’s give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!”

Silence.

As no one claps, no one moves. This is typical, what you’d expect from your home district. If people were to listen to Effie and applaud, then that means they approve of what is happening here. Which is far from what they believe.

It’s like this for several seconds, before you see the movement. It’s just one person at first, and then it ripples across the square. As your people press the three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips before raising it in the air. A gesture that is rarely used, primarily seen at funerals.

It’s a thanks, it’s a sign of admiration, and it means goodbye to someone that you loved.

Haymitch has risen from his seat, you swipe at his hand to pull him back into his seat, but he’s surprisingly agile. He makes it across the stage, where he throws an arm around Katniss’s shoulder. “Look at her. Look at this one!” He shouts. “I like her!” He stares, “Lots of…” He tilts his head back, as if looking to the clouds for inspiration. “Spunk!” He suddenly says. “More than you!” He moves toward the edge of the stage. You almost get to your feet, because that’s a bad idea for the state he’s in, but you refuse to be dragged down, too. “More than you!” He points directly into the camera.

He doesn’t realize that the stage ends, you know this because he walks right off the front of it. You bury your face in your hands, shaking your head. By the time you lift it, they’ve taken him away on a stretcher, clearly unconscious.

“What an exciting day!” Effie’s voice is wavering. “But more excitement to come! It’s time to choose our boy tribute!” She quickly moves to the boy bowl, where she plucks the top slip out, hurrying back to the podium. She opens the paper, not stopping to read this time. “Peeta Mellark.”

A boy from the sixteen area comes out. A competitor, you think, but you’ve thought the same in the past. You watch as he comes to stand on the other side of Effie. She asks for volunteers, but when none steps forward, Effie and Mayor Undersee trade places again. He begins to read the Treaty of Treason, but you’re leaning over to speak to Effie.

“Are they going to take Haymitch to the train?”

“I believe so.” She places her hands on her knees. “They’ll probably dispose of him in his bed.”

“Dispose.” You echo.

When Mayor Undersee finishes his speech, he motions for Peeta and Katniss to shake hands. When they’re done, the anthem of Panem plays in full. Then, they’re taken through the front of the Justice Building by the Peacekeepers. You get up from where you’d been sitting.

Mayor Undersee comes to join you and Effie, where he places a hand on your shoulder. “He’s likely inside of the building in the far back.”

“Of the Justice Building?” You ask, looking at Effie. “They didn’t just take him to the train?”

“We don’t have the cars to spare. We have one for you and him, and then we have the separate one for Effie and the tributes.”

“Right.” You smooth out your pants. “Will you bring us to him?”

Mayor Undersee nods, heading inside of the Justice Building. You glance back at the front of the stage to see that the crowd is slowly dispersing, the Peacekeepers shut the doors a moment later. You’re brought all the way to the back, where the mayor leaves you to figure it out.

You open the door, stepping inside, finding Haymitch sitting upright on a bed. Usually the ones the school nurse provided in her office for when you felt sick. His face is twisted, touching a tender spot on the side of his head.

“Are you fucking kidding?” You cross your arms. “What was going through your head to think that it was okay to show up drunk?”

“I lost track of time.” Haymitch says.

“I don’t care that you were late! You were drunk on stage! This is a televised event, Haymitch.”

“I know that.”

You shake your head. “Then you should know that this will not be happening again. You’re done drinking.”

He scoffs. “Am I? Who’s going to stop me?”

“Me!” You shout. “Did you even see what happened out there? We have a volunteer that must mean something to the people here. And a boy that looks like he could maybe come from District Two.”

“Wow.” Haymitch mutters, he’s still drunk.

“You will not be doing this in the Capitol. I will not let you be this way in the Capitol, I want you to actually mentor, not your shotty half-ass work. We have a real shot.”

“We have a real shot.” He mocks your voice. “You call my mentoring shotty and half-assed when you can’t even give them sound advice. You’re too worried about how you look for the cameras. I have my head screwed on straight.”

“Are you seriously calling me Capitol-obsessed right now?” Your voice drops.

Haymitch squints at you, possibly realizing his mistake. And then he opens his mouth, “Well you are, aren’t you?”

The room is tense, Effie clears her throat. “Maybe you two shouldn’t be together if you don’t like each other.” She says quietly.

“No, I like Haymitch.” You scoff, waving your hand. “In fact, I love him.” Haymitch blinks in surprise. “But I would equally love the idea of him being sober for once in the Capitol. It’s not easy for all of us, you know. You think I like sitting through this every year while you get to have a drink?”

Haymitch sighs, head hanging slightly. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m tired of the apologies, too. Unless you’re going to do something to fix it, don’t bother.”

this was part of my 3k celebration!!

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