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ilguna · 7 months

Note

I love your work! Could I please get #17 of list 2 with Haymitch? I was thinking it could be a nightmare from the games or going into the reaping for the 75th? Thank you 💜

☼ history repeats itself (Haymitch Abernathy) ☼

warnings; swearing, death mention, alcohol use.

wc; 1.6k

prompt; 17. "Hey, listen to me. You're safe. Nothing is going to hurt you."

—

The last time Haymitch was himself was the night of the reading of the card for the Third Quarter Quell, which happened in the winter. He hasn’t been the same person since, but you weren’t really expecting him to be.

The horror that President Snow presented in front of the entirety of Panem had shook him, and every other victor across the country that thought they were safe. You remember sitting with him in silence on the couch. When you looked at him, it was clear to you that he was slipping away.

It hadn’t even been five minutes since the news reached your ears.

Haymitch stood up from the couch without a word, walking from the living room into the kitchen. You didn’t have to turn around to know what he was about to do. You couldn’t blame him, either. You didn’t even think to hold it against him.

He slammed open the window, you jumped at the noise, and he muttered an apology. The first breeze that came through was nice, it seemed to calm the warmth that had crossed your skin. You looked over to find him pulling a bottle of white liquor out of the cupboard, reaching to open it.

There was a series of hard knocks on the door, you got to your feet to answer it, but it was already swinging open. It was Peeta, a string of apologies leaving his lips for barging in. In the next breath, he was addressing Haymitch, and it wasn’t for what you’d thought it would be.

Peeta started to beg Haymitch to allow him to go inside of the arena again. He didn’t want Haymitch to interfere, to let the reaping run its course. He said that if Haymitch were drawn, he’d volunteer. But if he was drawn, Haymitch wasn’t allowed to lift a finger. He wanted to go back into the arena if it meant that Katniss would be.

You watched as Haymitch cracked the seal on the bottle, taking a long drink of it, before walking over to the dining room table to set it down. “I’m not going to make any deals, Peeta.”

It started out as them talking civilly, and then it began to fade into an argument. With Peeta telling Haymitch that since he protected Katniss the first time around, that meant he owed Peeta. Anything. And Peeta wanted a chance to go into the arena again.

By the time Peeta left, Haymitch was a quarter of the way through his bottle. When Katniss showed up, he was halfway in, drunk. You were sitting at the table with him, asking him if there was any way he could get out of this. You knew what the answer was already, you were just hoping it wasn’t true.

He did what he always does with Katniss—antagonize her. He asked her if she was there to ask him to go back inside of the arena for Peeta. She denied it and sat down with you two, drinking from his bottle. And then, instead of suggesting for him to volunteer, she said she wanted Peeta to be saved from the arena, no matter the situation.

It was only when Haymitch agreed to this, did she leave. The next day, Peeta came by and dumped all of the liquor in the house down the drain. He told you that neither you or Haymitch were allowed to buy it from Ripper down at the Hob—not that he thought you would, anyway.

If you’re being honest, you thought that his whole plan to get Haymitch to train alongside him and Katniss would last a few weeks at best. It wasn’t until the three of them started to show signs of improvement, did you believe that Haymitch wasn’t going to slip back into his habits.

Still, his attitude about the situation hasn’t changed in the past six months, and it’s grown worse over the past week, leading up to today. When you woke up this morning, you were expecting him to say anything about the reaping that will be taking place in the matter of hours. Instead, he pulled himself out of bed and disappeared into the bathroom.

You’ve kept a close eye on him all morning, something you’re sure he doesn’t appreciate very much. You don’t know what else to do. You tried to pretend like everything was alright, when he picked up on it, he asked you to stop. Every attempt you make at conversation falls short.

It’s like he wants to revel in the doom cloud above him. And who are you to tell him otherwise? If you were in his place, you’re sure you’d do the same. He’s the first victor of District Twelve, and he was a tribute in the last Quarter Quell. If there’s anyone that’s earned a right to silence this morning, it’s him.

That doesn’t mean it’s any easier to see him this way.

“Are you almost ready?” Haymitch asks.

You look into the mirror to see where he’s standing, finding that he’s in the bathroom doorway. You tilt your head to the side as you slide the earring into place. “Almost.”

He nods, turning his body halfway to leave, and then he changes his mind. He leans against the frame, head tilted downward to look at the ground. He’s dressed nicely, considering the situation. You’re even able to see the muscles that he’s built up from training. The only thing he’s missing is his blazer, but if he doesn’t have it in his hands already, that means he’s not planning on bringing it.

“I wish I could go with you.” You tell him, rising from your stool in front of the mirror.

Haymitch’s eyes snap up. “No, you don’t, (Y/n).”

“If it means that you don’t leave me, I do.” You close the drawers, and then begin to walk in his direction.

“You’re safer here.”

“It doesn’t feel like it.” You murmur. “I’m ready.”

He lets your comment slide, not wanting to fight. The two of you leave his Victor home, going down the steps. He shuts the door behind him and doesn’t stop to lock it. Usually, you’d say something about it, but you’ll be coming back here after you bid him goodbye at the train station. You’ll have the house to yourself for the next few weeks while the Victor’s battle it out in an arena.

You barely make it out of the neighborhood before you’re pulling his hand into yours, squeezing tightly. He glances in your direction, you catch it out of the corner of your eye. Your head is facing the other way, not wanting him to see your face, and the frown that’s struggling to settle on your mouth. You won’t let it.

What you’re feeling is selfishness and guilt. You hope that Haymitch gets his name drawn first, and you hope that Peeta goes through with volunteering. You don’t want today to be your last day with him. You want him to go to the Capitol as a mentor so that you’ll be able to see him again.

This isn’t fair.

The walk to the Justice Building from Victor’s Village only takes a few minutes. From a distance, you can see the crowd that has gathered around the stage. This year, since there is no giant pool of young teenagers, it’s doubled in size.

Haymitch stops you, letting out a shaky breath.

You raise your eyebrows, eyes watching his face. He presses his lips together, breathing quicker, eyes locked on the stage.

“Hey, listen to me.” You squeeze his hand. “You’re safe, nothing is going to hurt you.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about, (Y/n).” He tells you. “I don’t want to lose you, the same way I lost them.”

Your face twists, confused for a moment, until it dawns on you. You haven’t been with Haymitch for long, only about two and a half years now. You’ve seen who he was before Katniss and Peeta, and heard his mindset because of what President Snow did to him.

In the beginning of your relationship, it felt like he was doing everything in his power to hide his history from you. It wasn’t because he was ashamed of it, he just wasn’t prepared for your reaction when he told you all of it. You knew the basics, the stuff everyone knows about his Games.

It was the aftermath of it that was hidden.

At the end of his Games, the Career girl had thrown her axe at him, and Haymitch collapsed because of the wound on his stomach, causing her to miss. The axe flew over the cliff, but came shooting back up, lodging in her skull.

Supposedly, they saw this act from Haymitch as one of rebellion. He was crowned Victor, and two weeks later, his mom, younger brother and girlfriend were all killed in retaliation. He tells you that he tried to put an effort into mentoring, but it was hard to exist everyday without aid. When he figured that he was never going to get a winning tribute, he turned to drinking, and stopped trying altogether.

This is what he must’ve been thinking about all morning.

You pull Haymitch in by your hands to hug him. He places his face in your neck, breathing in deeply.

“You’re not going to lose me. I’m going to be right here when you get back, Haymitch.” You tell him. “They can’t take me away from you.”

“I’ll be back, (Y/n).” He pulls you closer.

“I know.”

this is part of my 3k celebration!! you can join until the cure is released on Oct, 31st at midnight!!

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nebulablakemurphy · 11 months

Text

Moves & Countermoves (Part 19)

Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing. Trigger warning: discussions of trauma surrounding ‘desirable’ victors.

Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18

“Tell me about the stairs,” Dr. Aurelius says.

Y/N stares at him blankly, the stairs.

He waits a moment, tapping his pen to paper. “At the request of your husband, you will be issued a nightlock pill, to use in the event that you are captured.”

Y/N nods. One of the stipulations to Haymitch agreeing to her deployment, on this mission to rescue Peeta.

‘Show me you can reach it with your mouth.’ He tested the accessibility of her suit’s pill pocket, rigorously. ‘Show me you can still reach it with your hands behind your back.’

It isn’t something he wants her to use, but knowing that whatever Snow has planned for her would make Peeta’s captivity look like child’s play…

“By President Coin’s orders, I cannot release this… medication unless you are of sound mind.”

“You have reason to believe I’m not?” Y/N asks.

“One of your former guards told me you asked if anyone had ever jumped from the elevator.” Aurelius purses his lips.

“It was one time!” Y/N waves a hand, “and it was a joke.”

“You have a dark sense of humor.”

“You would too.”

The therapist affords her a soft smile, “you may be right. Even still, you are my patient. I need to act in your best interest. So please, tell me what happened on the stairs.”

Y/N takes a deep breath, “it’s kind of a blur. Everyone was pushing, yelling, especially after the upper levels were damaged and the rain started coming down.”

“How did you feel?”

“I felt…worried, I guess.”

“In what way?”

“About Haymitch, Madge and the kids. Worried about what was happening to Peeta. Worried about getting Katniss into the bunker.”

He jots this down.

“That was a normal response.” Y/N snaps.

“Very much so,” the doctor agrees, “not every note I make is a bad one.”

Y/N crosses her arms.

“Did you worry for yourself? Your own safety?”

You’re supposed to say yes.

“There is no right answer, Y/N.”

“There’s an answer that gets me to Peeta and one that doesn’t.”

“True,” he shrugs, “but I trust you not to lie.”

“You shouldn’t.” Y/N narrows her eyes. “I’m a good liar, I’ve been doing it since I was fifteen.”

“How do you feel about death? Is it something you long for, or run from?”

“If I die, my kids lose their mother, my husband loses his wife, my sister loses her sister. The list goes on. So it really doesn’t matter how I feel about death. All I know is that I cannot die.”

“Yet you think you could bite down on this pill?” He presents the dark purple capsule.

“As a last resort. If I have fought tooth and nail and I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I can’t get free? I could.” Y/N decides.

Dr. Aurelius nods, holding the nightlock out to her. “Best of luck.”

————————————————————————

Haymitch curses Katniss’ name, as he shuffles through the crawl space she’s gone to hide in, after refusing to make the propo saying thirteen survived Snow’s attack.

Have kids, they said. It will be fun, they said.

Though none of his biological children have forced him to squeeze in such a tight space, parenthood is not for the faint of heart.

He plops down beside her with a sigh, “so this is the end, huh? I guess we’re just gonna hide down here forever.”

“I can’t be the mockingjay,” Katniss chokes out.

“Not the mockingjay,” Haymitch tosses a bit of hair away from her face, “just Katniss.”

She blinks at him, warily.

“Look, I know I’m not good at this pep talk stuff. That’s Y/N’s department.”

“She doesn’t want to see me,” Katniss understands.

“She spent the morning getting cleared by her shrink.”

“Cleared for what?”

“They’re going to rescue Peeta.” Haymitch tells her.

“What?”

“The dam went down in district five, took out most of the power to the Capitol. Knocked out their signal defense, Beetee’s inside their system, reeking all kinds of havoc. The window is open to us, for how much longer? I don’t know, I guess until the Capitol can get the power back on.” Haymitch explains.

“And Coin?”

“I can never fully support that woman. But Plutarch got word that Peeta and the others are in the tribute center. With the power out, Coin sees this as an opportunity. She knows that Peeta is the Capitol’s weapon, the same way you’re ours. And as opposed to having you two pointing at each other, she’s going to get him.”

“I have to go help them.” Katniss springs to life.

“Woah, hey,” Haymitch reaches out a hand to stop her. “What’re you just gonna jump out of the vent and go storm the Capitol? Besides it’s already underway. Six soldiers went in, volunteer only. Y/N, Gale, Boggs and three others.”

“You just let her go?” Katniss frowns.

Haymitch admits, “she’s not the type of person you ‘let’ do things. But you know how that is, sweetheart. Between the two of you,” he lets out a low whistle, “I’m exhausted.”

————————————————————————

Madge breaks her dinner roll in half. Splitting it between Everest and Arista, the same way she’s watched Y/N and Haymitch do since they got here. Making sure little bellies are full, before their own.

Pollux approaches, motioning to the seat across from Madge, at the metal mess hall table. He sets down his tray and pulls out his note pad, to jot a message down. “Is this seat taken?”

“No,” Madge greets him, “please, sit.”

“Hi, I’m Pollux. You’re Y/N’s sister, right?”

Madge nods.

“She keeps your picture in her pocket.” Pollux smiles. “And them.” He points to the oldest children.

Everest’s eyes scan the page. “Our mom told us about you. What happened to you in the Capitol…I’m really sorry.”

“Honey,” Madge runs a hand over his hair.

“Thank you, Everest. It’s nice to meet you. Your mom talks about you all the time, she is so proud.” Pollux turns the page quickly, for more room. “Arista and Daisy too, of course. Your mom loves you all very much.”

With that the children turn back to their meals.

Madge smiles, stabbing at her food with one hand, while patting the baby in the sling. The tray moves and Pollux holds out a hand to stabilize it. “Oh, thank you. It’s ok though, you eat.”

He draws the hand back, long enough to scribble, “I’d offer to hold the baby instead, but I don’t think we’re there yet.”

Madge laughs, “funny.”

“It’s really no trouble.”

Madge shrugs, as he grips the edge of her tray, loosely. Managing his own dinner just fine.

Cressida calls him away, after a while, for Finnick’s live propo, to help jam the Capitol’s airwaves.

“I’ll see you around.”

“I’ll see you.”

————————————————————————

“This is Finnick Odair, winner of the sixty-fifth Hunger Games, coming to you from district thirteen, alive and well. We survived an attack by the Capitol, but I’m not here to give you recent news.”

“Why is Finnick doing a propo?” Katniss wonders, watching the split screen of the control room. The large, right panel is an image of Finnick. Just outside the rubble, where they asked her to film earlier, the sun has set and the lights are trained on him. The left hand side is home to six smaller panels, with the soldier’s helmet cam footage.

“It’s a lot more than that,” Haymitch informs her.

“Beetee’s commandeered the system,” Coin says, proudly.

“They’re down to generator power, so there’s a more limited range of frequencies available to them. I’m filling them all up with Y/N and Finnick. It looks like they’re both live.” Beetee assures Katniss.

“Snow will think she’s still here?” That’s brilliant.

“Not many will see it, but those who do will assume they’re just propos.”

“What they don’t know is that these broadcasts are jamming their entire system with noise. Early defense warnings, internal communications, everything. As long as one or both of the broadcasts are going through, our team should be able to get in and out without being detected.” Beetee assures her.

“You can survive the arena, but the moment you leave, you’re a slave.” Finnick narrates. “President Snow used to sell me, or my body, at least.”

“Mockingjay one, you are twenty seconds from perimeter defense.”

“I wasn’t the only one. If a victor is considered desirable, the president gives them as a reward, or allows people to buy them. If you refuse, he kills someone you love.” Finnick presses on, looking straight at camera.

“Ten seconds.” The hovercraft pilot begins counting down. “Nine, eight, seven, six.”

“Just because a victor is married doesn’t mean they’re safe.”

“Five, four, three…”

“The Capitol’s more generous patrons paid dearly to watch the wedding night, even more to witness the conception of the most beloved children in Panem.”

“Two, one.”

Katniss freezes, surely he doesn’t mean- it couldn’t be. The dress, that stupid dress they crammed her in. Why it upset Y/N so badly. Snow was taunting her.

“No response from perimeter defense, we’re inside Capitol airspace.”

“Yes,” Beetee rejoices.

Haymitch is watching the smaller screen, his jaw tense, doing his best to ignore the eyes that fall on him. Twisting his wedding band around and around. It doesn’t matter what secrets Finnick reveals, so long as he keeps jamming the signal. Keep Y/N safe.

“To make themselves feel better, patrons will offer presents of money or jewelry. But I found secrets to be a much more valuable form of payment.”

“Gear up,” Boggs orders the soldiers on the hovercraft. They are just seconds away from the tribute center. “Masks on.”

Their lenses are tinted for night vision, the red light inside makes Y/N’s heartbeat faster.

“Open the door.” Boggs says, his voice echoing through her headset. “Command, this is team leader, preparing to deploy gas. We will confirm once inside.”

“Such a young man when he rose to power, such a clever one to keep it. How, you may ask, did he do it?” Finnick is captivating, well spoken.

Katniss is hanging off every word.

“One word, poison.”

The timer for the gas grenadines finishes, on Bogg’s stop watch, “get ready to drop.”

Y/N secures her harness to the wire, giving it a firm tug. Descending through the open loading dock, releasing the wires as they reach ground.

“Clear.” Boggs, informs the team. “We’re inside, headed for target number one. Cell B forty-five, lower level two C.”

“So many deaths to well known adversaries, even allies who were deemed as threats.”

It’s dizzying, giving equal attention to Finnick’s message and the feed from inside the tribute center.

Haymitch is glued to that screen, her screen. Like he wants to reach through and bring her back with him.

Once Peeta’s holding cell is gassed, they are cleared to enter.

“Snow would drink from the same cup, to deflect suspicion. But antidotes don’t always work, which is why he wears roses that reek of perfume. To help cover the scent of sores, in his mouth, that will never heal.”

Poison, Katniss shakes her head to clear it. He’s still talking about poison.

Inside the room is a lab, full of jars, experiments. Cages. Medical equipment, some with blood still visible.

“What the fuck?” Y/N whispers, reaching out to try and make sense of it.

“Abernathy, on me.” Boggs warns, they need to stay focused.

“What is this place?” Gale asks, venturing deeper.

Their screens lights up, all of them at once. Too bright to see.

“Ahh.”

There is a collective hiss, from those in the tribute center. The power’s back on.

“Beetee?” Katniss has a hand flat against her belly, where the worry eats her alive.

“Ma’am, the Capitol air defense is rebooting. It’s coming back online.”

“They must be diverting power from another source, filtering transmissions. Another sixty seconds and we’ll be cut off.” Beetee scowls, typing furiously at the control panel.

“Get them outta there,” Haymitch demands.

“Madame President, should we call back the hovercraft?”

“Broadcast me,” Katniss decides, “if Snow’s watching this, maybe he’ll let the signal in, if he sees me. Put me on the air so he can see me.”

“Yes,” Plutarch snaps a finger. “Yes.”

“Put her on,” Coin agrees.

“Can we still do this?” Haymitch’s hands are shaking as he positions the camera in front of her. “Can we still get in?” Can we still save her?

“Yes, for the moment,” Beetee replies. “The line’s open, he will only see you.”

“Ok, Katniss,” Haymitch steps away. “Go.”

“President Snow.” Katniss says, “President Snow, it’s Katniss.”

The static continues to crackle. No more Finnick, no more footage from the tribute center. Just her.

“President Snow, can you hear me?” Katniss repeats, hoping for a miracle. “I need to speak with you, are you there? President Snow.”

“Miss Everdeen,” his voice is distorted for a moment, until the signal hones in. “What an honor. I don’t imagine you’re calling to thank me for the roses.”

“I never asked for this. I never asked to be in the games.” Katniss reminds him. “I just wanted to save my sister and keep Peeta alive. Let him go and I will stop being the mockingjay. I will disappear and you’ll never have to see me again.”

“You couldn’t run from this anymore than you could’ve run from the games.”

“Please, you’ve won.” Katniss says, “release Peeta and take me instead.”

Snow shakes his head with a smirk. “We are long past the opportunity for noble sacrifice.”

“Then tell me what to do, I’ve always kept my promises. Haven’t I?”

“You said you didn’t want a war, and that’s just what happened. I told you what a fragile thing peace was and still, like a child, you took pleasure in breaking it. I know what you are, I know you can’t see past your narrowest concerns. But please, Miss Everdeen, I doubt you know what honesty is anymore.”

“You asked me to convince you that I was in love with Peeta,” Katniss challenges. “Haven’t I at least done that?”

Snow takes great pleasure in what he’s about to say, it’s written all over his twisted features. “It’s the things we love most that destroy us. I want you to remember I said that.” He pauses. “Don’t you think I know Y/N and your friends are in the tribute center?”

Katniss feels the floor fall out from under her.

“Cut them off.” Snow says, turning away from the screen. It returns to the static hum of nothing.

They had comms back, but now Beetee’s lost them again.

“What happened?” Katniss sobs.

“Boggs, do you read me? Boggs, come in.”

“He knows they’re in there,” Katniss calls to Haymitch. “It’s a trap.”

“Katniss, calm down.” Haymitch whispers.

“We have to get ahold of them, tell them to get out. He knows.”

“There’s no signal, we can’t contact them,” Plutarch sighs.

“No, Haymitch.” Katniss crumbles, “he knew the whole time, he was taunting me! No, Haymitch-”

“No, no, we don’t know that.” Haymitch hushes her, because he has to be strong. He has to be steady, even with his world falling to pieces.

“Did I lose them all tonight? Did I lose them all?”

Haymitch pulls her into a hug. “Shhh,” he smooths down her dark waves, the same way he would his other daughters.

She holds fast, allowing him to comfort her. “Did I lose them?” The cry is muffled against his shoulder.

“Shh,” he sways them, gently.

“No, no.”

“Katniss,” Haymitch breathes, “listen to me. I need you to listen.”

She nods, unable to calm her erratic breathing.

“If Y/N died, I would feel it. I would feel it in my heart, if she was gone and I don’t. If she’s alive, Peeta is alive, Gale is alive. All we have to do is wait.”

————————————————————————

“Systems are back online.” The pilot informs them.

There’s nothing they can do. Communication with thirteen is shut down, no way to get through to Beetee. They’ll either shoot them out of the sky or they won’t. The only way out is through.

Y/N doesn’t mean to, but she holds her breath. Waiting until they clear Capitol airspace to resume a normal pattern.

Of the five other soldiers on this rescue mission, there is one medic. She begins tending Annie, Johanna and Peeta in turn. Starting IV fluids, as they are all dehydrated; unconscious from the gas.

Annie looks like herself, maybe a bit gaunt, but recognizable. Peeta is thin, so thin and covered in bruises. Johanna’s head has been shaved, cheeks hollow and ribs showing. Y/N tosses off her helmet, running both hands over her face.

“Soldier.” Boggs puts a hand to her shoulder. “You did good. We accomplished our goal. Now we can all go home.”

Y/N nods, blinking away tears.

“Take a breather, there’s a separate compartment through there,” he motions to the rear doors. “He’ll need you when he comes to.”

Peeta does not wake for some time, beginning to struggle at his bindings. No, he realizes, it’s not a binding that holds him. It’s a hand. Just one wrapped loosely around his.

It feels familiar, soft. Someone he knew once, it smells of artificial air. She is warm, the space around her is warm, gentle and kind. A second hand strokes his hair, the way he once wished his mother would.

His eyelids begin to flutter open, daring to reveal that he is conscious. If he’s wrong…if it’s not her and they’ve tricked him again, it will be his own fault.

“Peeta,” Y/N says, staring down at him.

He blinks up at her, in the too bright light. His breathing heavy as she tries to move away, to give him space, but he holds her. Squeezing her fingers.

“Peeta, do you know who I am?”

His throat is sore, voice hoarse, from screaming. “Y-yes.”

“Good,” Y/N smiles.

“Where am I?”

“We’re in a hovercraft, on the way to district thirteen.”

Peeta studies her face. There was something…something is missing, something’s wrong. “What happened to the baby?”

“She’s fine.” Y/N assures him. “Keeping her siblings and Haymitch company.”

“You’re all ok?”

Y/N nods, “yeah, honey, we’re all ok. Now we focus on getting you healthy. Ok?”

He doesn’t flee from her touch, only the occasional flinch when he forgets where he is, until she reminds him that he is safe. “You came back for me.”

“Of course I did.”

Y/N leaves him briefly, with the doctors, upon arrival in thirteen. She needs to find Haymitch, tell him she’s ok. And she is running, searching, colliding into him, with such force that they are both sent off balance.

Down to the floor, the dirty, cold floor. But no place has ever felt better. To hold him, for him to hold her and inhale the scent at the crook of his neck.

“Never again.” He pleads, massaging the back of her scalp, like he does when she’s falling asleep. “Never do that to me again.”

“I’m sorry, Haymitch.” She nuzzles the delicate skin of his throat.

“Don’t make me live in a world where you don’t exist.”

‘All I know is that I cannot die.’

Part 20

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your-averagewriter · 1 year

Note

Hi,

Can I please request a young!Haymitch x reader where they’re both in the 50th Hunger Games and they team up and there’s like romantic tension (+ some rivals to lovers) and they end up having a steamy make out please?

Word count: 3.4K (I got so carried away here.)

Warnings: Blood, weapons, murder, death, usual Hunger Games warnings, kissing, make out session.

“I think we should work together.” I say, planting myself down on the seat in front of Haymitch.

“And why would we work together?” He says, bringing the fork full of food to his mouth.

“There’s gonna be 48 kids in that arena, do you really want to go in there alone?” I ask him.

“Why would I team up with you?” He asks as if I’m disgusting.

“You know me.” He looks at me unconvinced. “Well, sort of know me. Know of me then.” I correct. “We’re from the same district, similar age and I’ve got a good set of skills. I could be a good asset to you.” I say, with less confidence than I intended as this boy towers over me, even sitting down.

“What skills do you have?” He asks, still doubtful and rightly cautious of me.

“I can track, animals or people. I can identify most if not all plants and roots and I can prepare them for eating. I can also hunt with minimal tools, I only need a blade, the size doesn’t matter.” I say with a smile, content with my pitch.

“And you want to be allies?” He asks.

“Yes. You and me until the final five or six.”

“If we get that far…” He chimes in.

“Yes… If we get that far.” I sigh. “So, what do you think?”

“I’ll work with you but I’m not gonna put myself in danger for you.” He says, with a dark, snarky tone.

“Okay.” I say and chuckle slightly nervously. Having Haymitch with me not only offers me a bit more protection but company and companionship.

“In training tomorrow we can figure out more of a strategy and how this is gonna work.” He says signalling to the two of us. I nod, happy that he’s changed his mindset.

“I’ll see you then.” I say, hopping up from my seat, grabbing a bread roll and leaving the room but not before Haymitch stops me.

“Also, this is exclusive.” He signals to us again. “Don’t go partnering up or inviting other people.” He says and I nod before leaving the room.

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

“(y/n).” I hear someone whisper as I enter the training room. Slightly overwhelmed by the sight of masses of armed kids in the room and the loud noises they’re all making I turn around, slightly stressed looking for the voice. “(y/n).” I hear again although slightly louder this time and I manage to clock the direction of the voice. Turning to face the voice I’m met with Haymitch sat on one of the benches sharpening a set of knives.

“Hey.” I say quietly, walking over with a smile and sitting next to him. “What are these for?” I ask.

“You. I wanna see how good you are with them.” He says, focusing on the blades.

“I thought we were going to plan a strategy.” I say, confused.

“We can’t plan a strategy if we don’t know what each others’ skills are.”

“Okay.” I say and he stands up, gripping the knives.

“C’mon.” He says and I follow him blindly towards one of the stations. We move to stand by the throwing mark, luckily the station is unoccupied. “Go on then.” He says passing me three blades for the three targets.

I step forward to stand on the throwing line and take a deep breath before preparing the blades. Each one I throw hits right in the centre of the target (the meaning on the target has taken on a much darker meaning after being thrown in these Games). I turn around to see Haymitch with a small smirk on his face causing a hint of a smile to emerge from mine.

“I told you I could hunt.” I say and tries to suppress his smile.

“You did. Okay, you’ve held up your end of the deal, my turn now.” He says and I follow him again through the training room to the weapons rack. Collecting an axe he walks over to a different station to present his skills.

He prepares to throw and hits the bullseye quite impressively and I cheer for him despite him looking back at me with a scowl which only makes me chuckle. It’s funny how an action so small can make you forget about having to fight to the death.

“That was impressive, where’d you learn that?” I ask.

“I didn’t ask where you learnt to hunt in a district lacking in nature so don’t ask me where I learnt my shit.” I’m taken aback by his response and the abrasiveness of it.

“Sorry.” I say quietly and trail behind him again, suddenly all too aware of the eyes following us.

“It’s fine.” He says reluctantly, the depth of his voice finally revealed. “Let’s just get on with the strategy.”

The next few hours were spent either eating (lunchtime) or spent planning for the arena: tactics, plans, strategy, weapons, everything. Luckily during our planning session he relaxed a little and we ate lunch together (separate to the other tributes, there’s no point getting to know people who we’re gonna kill or will get killed).

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

Today’s the interview day which means a day packed full of fancy clothing and fake smiles. Every year we’re forced to watch the Hunger Games and nothing feels more fake than the interviews. This year because it’s a Quarter Quell and there’s double the number of tributes we’ve been paired with another from our District so Haymitch and I are getting interviewed together.

I’m smothered in perfumes and fragrances and a dress is fitted to me, needles prodded in me on multiple occasions. It’s a fairly horrendous dress - it’s black and form fitting with trails of rock like material symbolising the coal mines of District 12. I’ve got red lipstick and a fairly generous amount of blush.My hair is pulled back and pinned as tight as they could without pulling it and similar black “gems” are dotted on my head.

Rolling my eyes, I walk out of the dressing room to go and meet Haymitch (who is hopefully dressed better than me but I wouldn’t be surprised if we’re matching) in the tribute queue. I walk through the corridor and curse the black gems stuck to my eyelid preventing me from blinking without them irritating me.

I find the queue and look for Haymitch.

“Haymitch?” I question, craning my neck to see down the line.

“Down here!” I hear him say, sticking his hand out from the line, waving.

I make my way down the line, careful to look out for Haymitch as I trail past the districts, a slight wobble in my step because of the unnecessarily large heels.

“Hey.” I say, finally reaching the end of the line, tripping slightly at the end on my dress but mostly because of my heels.

Haymitch reaches his arms out grabbing onto my hands so I don’t properly fall over. I feel his warm palms against mine and manage to restabilize myself.

“Thanks.” I say, letting out a sigh of relief.

“You look… beautiful.” He says, looking up at me and still holding onto my hands just a little more gently.

“Really? I hate the dress.” I say looking down but luckily the excessive blush covers my natural blush. “The lumpy bits are so tacky.” I say, looking at the things that are meant to represent coals.

“Okay, maybe not the rocky parts…” He says trailing off with a chuckle.

“I can’t believe you don’t have these stupid rock things on your suit, that’s so not fair!” I say and he finally releases my hands to straighten his tie. “You’ve only got the little gems on your tie!” I point out and cross my arms in frustration.

“It’ll be fine. We’re last anyway so most people will have stopped paying attention by then so no one will even care.”

“You don’t think anyone will watch?” I ask, slightly down about it and he seems to ponder the question. “How will we get any sponsors?” I say, disheartened.

“I’m sure our scores of 9 and 10 will help there.” He says with a small smirk referencing our private training sessions that were assessed.

“We did pretty well.” I say.

“Now, you’ve just gotta look pretty and answer their questions with a smile. Shouldn’t be too hard.” He smirks.

“Only if you turn on the charisma and show everyone your dashing smile. Maybe then we’ll get sponsors.” I already have a smile on my face.

“You’re making this too easy to win.” He replies, a smirk planted on his face.

-----------

After a successful interview filled with smiles and sponsors and small flirtatious comments we finally got to sleep, ready for what the next day had coming: The 50th Hunger Games.

I wake up the next morning and after choking down some bread and butter we’re all sent straight to our prep teams then off to the arena.

I get to talk to Haymitch once more before we’re thrown into the arena so it’s our last chance to finalise our plans.

“As soon as we get in the arena you don’t go for the Cornucopia - I’ll grab what I can from the outskirts before meeting you by the edge of the forest or whatever it is, the edge of the Cornucopia. Got it?” He asks, holding onto my hands and emphasising the plan. I try to listen to him but the nerves make it harder and harder by the second.

“Y-yeah.” I manage to breathe out but I can feel my heart thumping in my throat.

“You sure?” He asks, aware of what I’m feeling, at least partially.

“I’ve got it. Basically run.” I say trying a smile but only managing to upturn the edges of my lips. He nods and grips onto my shoulders grounding me before we’re separated.

In my tube (separate from Haymitch) I can’t help a hopeless feeling overwhelm me before we start rising. Finally in the arena, I survey the area, it’s woodland which optimises both our skill sets and offers us resources. My eyes scan across the tributes, searching for Haymitch, he’s a little less than half way around the circle of tributes meaning our positioning could be better but it could be worse.

Looking behind me I check for possible meeting points before spotting a backpack which we were told includes a water bottle, rope, a small weapon (likely to be a knife) and possibly a sort of medicine, bandages or food. My mind replays the conversation I just had with Haymitch about running but the bag is so alluring. Our chances could be greatly increased by the contents of that bag so I make the decision as the countdown starts to race to grab the bag before running.

The clock is counting down and as it reaches the lower numbers I prepare to launch myself off the podium but I’m careful not to step off before the countdown is up.

As soon as I hear the gun fire I dart off of the podium towards the bag keeping an eye on the tributes around me. A lot of them ran but because there’s a greater number of tributes a greater number ran towards the Cornucopia including, surprisingly, me.

Sprinting across the field I feel my heart thumping in my chest, terrified of the prospects of a battle but desperate for the chances the backpack could provide. I get to the bag and reach for it, wrapping my fingers around the straps and hoisting it onto my back before shooting back away, towards the treeline but I feel someone’s hands on my shoulders pushing me to the ground. I fall and knowing it’s not Haymitch I try to roll over and squirm away only to be met with the smirking face of one of the District 4 boys. My chances at life diminish as time goes on and I feel the tears fall down my cheeks as he makes mocking remarks and motions, shoving a knife in my face - playing with me. I try to move out of his way but he has me pinned down by my shoulders and he’s sat on my torso, legs around my waist.

I try to push him off and when he budges, falling off of me I know that it can’t have been because of me. He’s at least twice the size of me, at worst three times.

I look around and shuffle backwards hurriedly trying to remove myself from his grasp. Once I’m out of his reach I turn around to see him being tackled by another boy who then knocks him out but I’m not sure whether he’s dead or not as there’s so many cannons going off it’s hard to tell who's is who's. Now scared of this unknown boy who just beat up my attacker I shuffle further, stumbling as I try to get to my feet but he turns around to reveal a familiar face. Haymitch. I let out a small sigh of relief before he’s running back towards me, grabbing at my arms and yelling at me to run.

I shake my head, slightly, snapping back into the Games realising that these moments define our lives or our deaths. He grabs hold of my arm and I’m careful to grip onto the bag as we run. We make it to the treeline and I watch him turn his head quickly, looking for the other tributes but he makes sure to keep it brief and turns, pulling me into the woodland with him.

We run for what feels like forever but could’ve only been a matter of minutes. There’s no noises other than that of the cannons and our fast breathing, and I swear that I can hear his heart beating over mine. His hand remains securely lodged in mine, careful not to release me as we make our way further into the forest, for I’m not sure how much longer.

After a few more minutes, Haymitch’s pace slows down and I’m glad it does because my lungs feel like they’re gonna explode.

He slowly lets go of my hand as we draw to a stop in a grassy, wooded area. Immediately, I fall to the floor, on my hands and knees to try and catch my breath whilst he stands leaning over, his hands on his knees, gasping like I am. Whilst I can run, I’ve never run like that before.

Dumping the backpack beside me I notice that Haymitch has a large cut on his calf. I quickly open the backpack, desperate to see that it was worthwhile running for the bag. I start pulling items out of it: a rope, water bottle, small set of knives, a bundle of bandages and a wound cleaning kit. I sit back on my heels and feel a sense of relief as I make my way towards Haymitch.

“S-” I swallow, clearing my throat. “Sit down, please.” I say quietly, still struggling with my breath.

He sits down on the grassy floor and I shuffle towards him, preparing to clean and bandage his wound. “I’m sorry.” I say, quietly, ashamed that my quick thinking got him hurt. “I’m so sorry.” I say and I struggle to focus on the medical equipment in front of me when my tears blur my eyes.

He doesn’t say anything so I move to clean his wound.

“I thought I was gonna die.” I say, my voice cracking slightly. “He was mocking me, had his knife in my face and that.” I say, finally in control of my breathing, my heart rate still too high. “He would’ve killed me if you weren’t there.” I say and pause looking up at him even though he’s not looking at me. “Thank you.” I wrap the bandage around his leg, careful to tie it tight enough but not too much. “I owe you my life.” I say. “I hope I can repay you one day.”

“I hope you can’t.” He says and I look at him, confused but also happy that he’s talking.

“What? Why?” I say getting up after finishing with his leg.

“I don’t want you to die for me.” He stands up a mere moment after me and finally looks me in my eyes.

“You just put your life on the line for me. You could’ve died.” I point out even though it’s obvious. “Because of me being stupid and not following the plan.” I say with a frown. “You said you wouldn’t do that.” I say, remembering the conversation we had when we first became allies. “You said you weren’t gonna put yourself in danger for me.” I repeat his earlier words.

“Yeah, well, things change.” He says.

“What changed?” I ask, my hands threaded in my hair, stressed out by both the conversation and the situation we’re in.

“I changed.” He says before leaning in towards me and tentatively placing his lips against mine, it’s experimental and he pulls back after a few seconds, nervously. My eyes are wide and my mouth lies open, confused but also in awe of what just happened. It takes me a few moments to process what just happened before I see Haymitch staring at me, looking slightly disheartened by my reaction.

“Forget about it-” He starts and turns to walk away but my hands reach for the sides of his face and I pull him back round so his lips meet mine again. This time more fervently and with a sense of desperation and longing. Now it’s his turn to look confused but he quickly gets into it and his hands move to find their place on my waist. He deepens the kiss, his lips desperate against mine, determined to make the most of these moments. One of my hands stays cupping his face whilst the other moves to the back of his neck where I find myself playing with the tufts of his hair.

After a few more seconds I pull away, needing to breathe but I place my forehead against his as we both breathe in unison. There’s a smile on my face, the feeling of stress has now been replaced by a warm, fuzzy feeling in my stomach - butterflies as some would say.

“You do seem to have changed…” I say with a quiet laugh.

“Shut up.” He says, suddenly embarrassed by his previous words before pushing his lips against mine harder than before,

The force sends me back a little bit due to my surprise but his hands on my waist reassure me of my safety as he pins to a nearby tree. The bark is rough against my back but I can’t say that I care when his lips are on mine. His lips move roughly against mine and I gladly allow his tongue entrance as it presses against my lips. Mingling with mine, his tongue pushes through my lips and seems to search through the corners of my mouth. His lips are dry but so are mine after our run. He pulls away only for his lips to meet the skin of my jaw, he peppers kisses along my jaw but makes sure each kiss has all his attention and care.

I tuck my head to the side, embarrassed at how bare I am, standing, pinned against a tree by a boy I only really met a week ago.

“Don’t hide your face, love.” He says and the pet name at the end makes me feel weak and my knees suddenly become wobbly which doesn’t seem to bother Haymitch as he just holds us both up - one of his knees pushed against the tree, between my legs to keep me up. I look into his eyes as he’s focused on my jaw, making his way up my face to my lips once again with nothing but desire consuming his eyes.

“They’re watching.” I say quietly, indicating with my eyes towards the cameras hidden amongst the arena.

“I don’t care.” He says between kisses. “Fuck them.” He breathes out as he presses his lips against mine with one of his hands trailing down my torso to my leg, stroking the plush skin of my thigh causing me to feel hot and flustered, the feeling tingling and travelling through my veins and making my body hot.

“Fuck them.” I say, quietly against his lips, feeling him smirk against mine.

AN: I really enjoyed writing this, it was such a good request and I loved it so I hope you do to! Thanks for the request!

I got a bit carried away with this piece, I only intended it to be about 1,000 words but it turned out at three times that much.

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daisydaisybilly · 1 year

Text

be enough? | h.a

pairing: haymitch abernathy x gn!reader

summary: Reader watches Haymitch propo

word count: 500 ish

warnings: mentions of what happens to desirable victors, death (what happened to haymitch’s family), swearing, angst and fluff

a/n: written in 3rd person, wanted to try something new 😅 hunger games trending has me really thinking of new fics @nebulablakemurphy haymitch fic also a big inspiration (finnick mini series maybe 👀 been playing with an idea for awhile too) Everyone needs to read it.

Very unsure how to feel about this, feedback is highly appreciated

I saw this prompt and thought it was very haymitch

In the control room they watched the screen nervously, the capital was seeing the same thing but would no doubt they would be watching with interest. That had always been how they viewed the tributes and victors, like they all were animals in a zoo.

Finnick had just finished his propo when Haymitch took stage, with a frown the other district 12 victor looked to a guy working the computer. “He agreed to this?”.

The tech guy gave a shrug, “up top said he had something to say”.

Still worried they looked back to the screen, Haymitch had been sober since reaching 13, it was hard at first for both, having to watch him almost broke their heart. But he had risen through the detox and became an almost new man.

“You’ve already heard what Snow did with the wanted Victors, but what you don’t know is what he does when you say no” Haymitch said. He went on to say how everyone he had loved was taken from him. The small details had been known to them, how the way he had won the games cost him his whole family.

By the time Snow was done he was no one to threaten Haymitch with, so he became an example. This is what will happen if you don’t agree.

His jaw tightened. Something was happening in his head, choosing what words to use. He laughed dryly. For a moment they thought he was having a breakdown live for everyone to see.

“For the last 15 years I have been in love with my fellow mentor” the room fell into a hush, all eyes found them, standing still. “The rebels will win and you will not need to live in fear, stand up and join us”.

Something else played but they couldn’t say what, was he even telling the truth? It wouldn’t be the first time he had come up with a lie to move a crowd. Even themselves weren’t a stranger to lying.

Someone called their name as they turned and ran from the room. They ran up all the stairs until what they guessed was half way when they ran straight into Haymitch. He caught them before they fell.

“Watch it sweetheart,” he laughed.

Eyes wide they stepped back, “was it real or not real?” They asked.

Haymitch nodded, watching them.

Their chest shook. “Why did you never tell me?”.

“It was a personal issue,” he shrugged.

“You being in love with me kind of also involves me." They exhaled. They looked down the never ending stairs, then back to Haymitch. “I wouldn’t have expected anything. Not kissing me, not touching me. Fuck we wouldn’t even have to live together. Just you”.

“What kind of love would that be?” he mumbled, his blue eyes shining.

In return they grabbed his jacket and held up close, “enough. I would have you and that’s all I’d ever need. Wouldn’t that have been enough for you?”. His reply didn’t come come, the tears were slowly starting to fall now. “No don’t answer” you shook your head, “this isn’t easy, i know that I do”.

You brushed away a tear from his face.

“When they war is over and we have nothing to fear, i’ll tell you those three words and eight letters and we’ll go from there, okay?”.

“Okay”

#haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch x reader #Haymitch Abernathy x yn #Haymitch Abernathy x you #Haymitch Abernathy fanfic #Haymitch Abernathy fanfiction #Haymitch Abernathy x gn!reader #gn!reader #hunger Games #hunger games fanfic #hunger games fanfiction #Haymitch Abernathy

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hlstead · 5 months

Note

Could you do 2 + fluff + haymitch :)

hold my hand - haymitch abernathy x reader

warnings: no use of YN

all of my works are poc friendly

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The air in the crowded Victors' Village felt heavy with the weight of memories as I approached Haymitch's house. It had been weeks since his triumph in the Hunger Games, and the entire district buzzed with a strange mix of pride and unease. I couldn't shake the anticipation building within me as I stood at his doorstep, my heart racing with a blend of excitement and apprehension.

When Haymitch opened the door, his weary eyes met mine. The toll of the Games lingered in the lines etched on his face, but there was a raw vulnerability that hadn't been there before. He greeted me with a half-smile, the weight of his newfound status evident.

"I've missed you," I admitted, unable to conceal the concern in my voice.

He nodded, a subtle acknowledgment of the shared experiences that bound us together. "It's been a rough ride," he confessed, gesturing for me to come inside.

As we settled in his living room, the atmosphere crackled with unspoken emotions. I watched as Haymitch took a deep breath, as if preparing himself for a conversation he'd been avoiding. The silence between us stretched, broken only by the distant sounds of life in District 12.

Unable to contain the yearning building within me, I finally spoke, my voice barely louder than a whisper. "Can I please hold your hand?" The request hung in the air, vulnerable and raw, echoing the unspoken desire for connection.

Haymitch's gaze met mine, and for a moment, the stoic demeanor faltered. He reached out, his calloused hand enveloping mine. The touch was a silent reassurance, a bridge between the darkness of the Games and the fragile hope that lingered in its aftermath.

#thg imagine #the hunger games imagine #haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch x reader #haymitch abernathy #haymitch abernathy imagine

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ilguna · 4 months

Note

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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nebulablakemurphy · 1 year

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Moves & Countermoves (Part 15)

Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing. Warning: depictions of labor/childbirth and violence/death.

“Y/N,” Effie all but accosts the woman emerging from the hallway.

“What’s wrong?” Y/N frowns, bewildered by Effie’s urgency.

She is in tears, “it’s Cinna.”

“What happened to Cinna?”

“He’s…he’s dead.”

Again the floor is falling out from beneath her, sinking, never ending. “How?”

“I don’t know, dear.” Effie breathes, it’s all being kept hush.

“I have to-” Haymitch left before Y/N, allowing her to rest. Her eyes are still swollen from the tears, no amount of sleep or makeup will hide it. “Haymitch is waiting for me.” Does he know?

“Of course,” Effie nods, excusing herself.

Y/N moves for the elevator, jamming the call button repeatedly with her finger. It dings upon arrival, moving at a snail’s pace to the ground floor.

The outdoor viewing area is open today. As if nice weather is reason enough for a picnic, while tributes slaughter each other on screen.

Chaff is still alive; hiding, waiting it out.

The current threat is monkey mutts, blood rain and the giant tidal wave; that sends Peeta and Katniss’ alliance to meet up with Johanna, Wiress and Beetee on the beach.

“Johanna?” Finnick spots her first, covered in blood from head to toe. “Johanna.”

“Finnick!”

“Looks like we have more allies,” Peeta remarks.

Y/N finds her husband, near the far wall of the indoor viewing area. He’s easier to spot in a crowd after all these years, the width of his shoulders, the color of his hair.

“Just couldn’t stay away, huh?” He is tired, worn down and unfortunately, the only news she has to share does nothing to help.

“Cinna’s dead.” Y/N whispers, plopping down in the seat beside him.

“Blight hit the forcefield, died on impact. Female morphling sacrificed herself to save Peeta.” Haymitch adds to the death toll.

“Do you think he lied? Plutarch.” That’s what gamemakers do. They lie to get in your head.

“His plan is to get Katniss out. I don’t think he lied about that.” If they keep this alliance going long enough-

“What about Peeta?” What about everyone else?

Can’t protect anyone in an arena. “He’ll be with Katniss.”

“Tick tock,” Wiress says, for what must be the hundredth time. Grabbing Johanna by the forearms to spin her.

“What’s wrong with her?” Katniss asks.

“She’s in shock, dehydration isn’t helping.” Beetee tells Katniss.

“I’ll get her some water.” Gloss takes the spile into the tree line. His back is torn up pretty good from the mutts.

“Tick tock.”

Katniss leads Wiress out into the water. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Johanna follows, while Beetee stays closer to shore, winding something on a spool.

“What’s Beetee got there?” Katniss wonders.

“Some kind of coil.” Johanna picks pieces of debris from her axe.

“Did he get it from the cornucopia?”

“Took a knife in the back to get it.”

“Tick tock.” Wiress gasps.

“I can’t,” Johanna holds up a hand in defeat. “Have fun with nuts.”

“Tick tock,” Katniss repeats, though it makes little sense to her. Allowing the water to wash away any blood clinging to Wiress’ hair.

Y/N looks to Haymitch, “tick tock?”

He lifts a shoulder, hell if I know.

Lightening strikes the large tree, at the far end of the arena, twelve times. Almost like- “a clock.” Y/N mutters under her breath, “chimes on a clock.”

“Twelve sections.” Haymitch realizes, “everything stays in its own…the forcefields in between.”

“Oh,” Wiress bobs up from the water. “Tick tock.”

“Tick tock,” Katniss says again, “it’s a clock. Wiress, you’re a genius.”

————————————————————————

With this new knowledge, the alliance heads back to the cornucopia.

“It all starts with the lightening. Then the blood rain, fog and monkeys, that’s the first four hours. At ten, that big wave hits from over there.” Katniss pauses to watch Peeta sketch a crude outline of the arena, with his sword.

“The tail points at twelve,” Peeta adds.

“That’s where the lighting strikes, at noon and midnight.”

“Strikes where?” Beetee asks.

“That big tree.”

Beetee cocks his head to the side, “good.”

“Hickory dickory dock, the mouse ran up the clock,” Wiress is singing softly to herself, beside the water.

Gloss takes a seat beside her to keep watch, smiling kindly. He doesn’t know this song.

“What about the other hours, did you guys see anything?” Cashmere asks Johanna and Beetee, hoping to fill in the other six wedges.

“Nothing but blood.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Peeta moves to stand, “as long as we steer clear of whatever sector’s active, we’ll be safe.”

“Yeah,” Finnick chimes in, “relatively speaking.”

Wiress gasps in surprise, drawing their attention.

Brutus is there with his sword buried in Gloss’ sternum. He had shielded Wiress with his own body. Gloss tumbles into the water. Cannon.

Leaving Wiress dead by Enobaria’s hand. Cannon.

Katniss draws her bow, the other victors now on defense.

Cashmere is lost in a fit of rage, knocking Brutus from the rocks.

The archer lands an arrow in Enobaria’s left arm, the career diving back into the water.

Haymitch scrubs a hand over his face. No time to digest the news as the entire cornucopia begins to spin. What the hell are you doing, Plutarch?

Johanna keeps hold of Katniss for as long as she can, but she is eventually lost to the whirling water.

She’ll drown. Y/N gnaws at the inside of her cheek. She’ll drown while I’m sitting here and all I can do is watch.

The spinning stops, the same way it started; suddenly and without cause. Eventually Katniss is able to kick to the surface, the viewing room cheers.

“Let’s just get what we need and get off the bloody island.” Johanna scowls, patting at Katniss’ back while she hacks up water from her lungs.

————————————————————————

“Besides Brutus and Enobaria, who’s left?” Katniss asks, sifting sand between her fingers.

They are back on the beach now.

“Maybe Chaff,” Peeta offers, “just those three.”

“They know they’re outnumbered, I doubt they’ll attack again.” Finnick reasons, “we’re safe here, on the beach.”

Cashmere hasn’t said a word…not since Gloss.

“So what, we hunt them down?”

“Katniss!” Prim’s howl ends the conversation prematurely. “Katniss, help me!”

“Prim!” Katniss takes off; without back up, or logical thought. Prim is in danger and she needs to save her.

“Katniss, wait.” Peeta chases after her, his leg becoming more irritated with every step. Still he presses on, ignoring it as best he can.

The bird carrying Prim’s scream is shot dead. Jabberjays.

Finnick is the fastest, joining Katniss in the clearing. “Katniss, are you ok?”

“Finnick! Ahhhh!” Annie’s voice draws him deeper into the forest.

“Annie! Annie, where are you?”

Peeta pounds his fist uselessly against the forcefield. They can’t hear him, he can’t hear them.

Katniss and Finnick run back towards the beach, only to realize that they are trapped. Birds wailing all around them. Katniss sees Peeta before she collides with the forcefield.

“It’s ok, it’s ok. They’re just mutts, they’re not real.” Peeta yells, hoping Katniss can make out the words.

She screams, covering her ears, crumpling to the ground. Peeta follows; touching his forehead to the forcefield. They wait for the hour to pass.

Y/N’s lower back is taut, spasming and releasing, stealing the air from her lungs.

Haymitch notices the uncomfortable shifting beside him. “You ok?”

Y/N nods, not trusting her own voice.

Haymitch begins thumbing circles along her spine.

————————————————————————

Word comes from Plutarch, the extraction is happening tonight. A hovercraft commandeered by district thirteen will arrive shortly and they will go. Collecting the remaining victors, under the guise of death.

Beetee’s plan is a good one, it will cause enough of a distraction. Using his wire to conduct electricity from the lighting strike at midnight.

“How do we know the wire’s not gonna burn up?” Johanna demands, leaning heavily against a tree branch.

“Because I invented it,” Beetee looks up at her. “I assure you, it won’t burn up.”

Cashmere stares out at the water. The hovercraft never came to collect Gloss’ body. Did the cornucopia tear it up? Or do they just not care enough to recover it?

Finnick returns to the sea, waiting out the sunset.

Katniss and Peeta find solace in each other, the way they always have.

“I think we need to go.”

“This plan’s gonna work,” Peeta disagrees.

“I think so too,” Katniss whispers. “Once the careers are dead, we all know what happens next. I don’t wanna be the one that shoots first.”

“What if they don’t either? What if all of us refuse to shoot first?”

The gamemakers will send mutts, or perhaps gun them down if they’re feeling impatient. “We might still end up dead.”

“Maybe not,” Peeta lifts a shoulder, “I mean it worked for us last time.”

“They’re not gonna make that mistake again. We both know there’s only one person walking out of here and it’s gonna be one of us.”

“The careers are still out there. I say we stick with these guys till midnight, and if we hear a cannon, we go.”

Katniss nods in agreement.

“Katniss, I don’t know what kind of deals you made with Haymitch, but he made me promises too.”

“Way to throw me under the bus, kid.” Haymitch raises his glass to Peeta before chugging it down.

Y/N just shakes her head. For a man who claims he doesn’t love those kids, he sure does make a lot of deals. With them, for them, doing his damnedest to keep them alive.

When the star crossed lovers kiss, there is no denying it’s real. Katniss loves Peeta, Peeta loves her. Finally she understands, what Y/N had been trying to tell her, that day on the train. Peeta is that person; her best friend, her partner, the one who waits.

“Alright, lovebirds.” Johanna calls them back.

What’s left of the alliance heads to the lighting tree.

————————————————————————-

“You two girls go together now.” Beetee hands Katniss and Johanna the wire. “Unspool it carefully, make sure the entire wire is in the water. Then head to the tree at the two o’clock sector, we’ll meet you there.”

“I’m gonna go with them as a guard.” Peeta insists.

“No,” Beetee’s head snaps toward him. “You’re staying here to protect me…and the tree.”

“No, I need to go with her.” Peeta is not backing down.

“They’re trying to separate them.” Madge realizes, pulling the throw pillow into her lap. The children and her mother are asleep, leaving only her and her father on the couch.

Y/N’s family set up camp in Victor’s Village, providing Everest and Arista some normalcy. In their own house, in their own beds. They are often found in their parent’s room, clinging to pieces they left behind.

“I’m sure there’s a reason.” The mayor shoots his daughter a reassuring smile.

They rarely watch the games together, not since she was a child. Under different circumstances Madge might think their time spent together was nice.

Katniss leaves with Johanna. Staring back at Peeta until the darkness swallows his silhouette.

A few feet later Katniss feels a bit of resistance from the line, tugging lightly. Must be stuck on a rock. “It’s caught on something.”

Brutus cuts the wire, sending the loose end flying back toward Katniss.

Johanna turns on her then, slicing a gash in Katniss’ arm and smearing the blood across her neck. “Stay down.” She tosses her axe at the careers and darts off into the woods.

Katniss pushes herself upright once their footsteps are out of earshot. “Peeta.”

“Johanna,” Finnick comes to check on his friend, after the commotion.

Katniss remains silent, allowing him to pass her by. Gathering her bow, she heads back to the tree.

Cashmere is missing and Peeta is gone. Leaving only Beetee; unconscious and twitching after an ill fated tryst with the conductor.

His spear harbors the evidence, wire still wrapped around it’s blade.

A cannon sounds, symbolizing Chaff’s death.

“Peeta!” Katniss screams.

Finnick sprints back toward the sound, “Katniss, where are you?”

She draws her bow, aimed at Finnick as he returns.

“Remember who the real enemy is.”

Just like Haymitch said…

The artificial storm cloud looms above them, and Katniss knows what must be done. There is only one shot at this, one way it ends.

“Katniss, get away from that tree,” Finnick warns.

She does not heed it, preparing for her final act. Twisting the wire around her arrow, a single shot toward the bolt of lightning. Her body is sent flying when it collides.

The screen goes black, Madge’s mouth agape. Nothing like this has ever happened. What will happen? What will Snow do?

She doesn’t have long to agonize over the prospect before the old communication system hums to life. Static cracking through the speaker. A jumble of nonsense and then a voice, her voice. Madge would know it anywhere.

“Into the woods-”

“Y/N,” Mayor Undersee nearly trips in his haste to reach the receiver. “Sweetheart, are you there?”

“District twelve…” the line crackles, “into the woods.” Then she is gone.

They aren’t able to revive the signal.

“We have to move.” Madge understands.

“She wasn’t making any sense.” Her father argues. “It might be safer if we stay-”

“Y/N is stuck in the Capitol, that may be the last message she ever sends and she sent it here. To you, to me. So we have a chance.”

He squares his jaw, struggling to accept this news. Not because he thinks his daughter is wrong…because he knows that she is right.

“I’m gonna warn the Everdeens and then I’m taking Everest and Arista into the woods where it’s safe. Pounding on doors and screaming, all the way, for our people to follow.”

“Get the kids ready to move, I’ll get your mother.”

“Thank you.” Madge says, chest heaving as she turns on her heels. Waking the children, taking nothing but the clothes on their backs.

Her parents are waiting at the door, with Gale and Katniss’ family.

“How long do we have?” Gale asks, Primrose and Miss Everdeen tucked away behind him.

“Hovercrafts could be here in an hour, maybe two.” The mayor informs him.

“Something tells me they’re in a hurry.”

————————————————————————

“I need you to take a big breath for me.” Haymitch is kneeling in front of his wife. Cupping her face in his hands, the line is down, they can no longer communicate with district twelve.

“I can’t.” Y/N claws at his hands, unable to deny that she’s having contractions, no more than two minutes apart. “Haymitch…” what if they didn’t get the message.

“Everest and Arista are gonna be waiting for us. Madge too.” Haymitch knows it. There is no other outcome. “Thirteen is sending hovercrafts for evacuation as soon as possible.”

“Did we get Peeta?”

“We have Katniss, Beetee, Finnick and Cashmere, for now. The pilot is swinging back around for Peeta and Johanna.” They only have a few minutes before the Capitol fleet arrives. “We’re gonna get them, ok?”

Y/N nods, breathing out through her nose.

“I need you to focus on this.” He runs a hand over her belly, tense with another contraction. “Healthy baby, healthy you.”

————————————————————————

Katniss startles awake, an oxygen mask tied to her face. She’s in the hovercraft. They’re taking us to the Capitol. Beetee is beside her, still unconscious. They must be holding Peeta elsewhere.

The last thing she remembers is the arrow firing, broken pieces of the arena falling around her and the claw.

“Ahhhhhhh!” A piercing scream echoes through the hovercraft.

All the more terrifying because Katniss knows it, she heard it among the jabberjays. Y/N. They are torturing her. Katniss can’t say how, but it must be something awful. Tearing the flesh from her body…

Removing the mask, she scans the area for something, anything she can use, a syringe. All she needs is a clear shot at one of her veins, save Y/N from whatever they’re planning to do next. Then she would move on to Peeta, spare him this hell.

Katniss hides the weapon behind her back, tapping the glowing access panel to open the door.

Y/N is there, sweat clings the material of her dress to her body; mouth open in an agonized howl.

Haymitch is seated behind her, keeping her upright, holding her hands. Cashmere is perched between her legs.

Finnick spots Katniss first, from his place beside Plutarch, at the holographic display table. “Katniss.”

“Katniss?” Y/N repeats, eyes searching for her.

The syringe clatters to the ground, Katniss charging toward her and crouching at her side.

“Honey, are you ok?” Y/N shakes one hand free from Haymitch’s grasp, reaching for her.

Katniss, takes it, pressing her cheek against the back of her mentor’s hand. No. “I thought…”

Y/N bears down as another contraction ripples through her abdomen.

“That was good.” Cashmere nods, patting Y/N’s knee.

“What is that?” Y/N’s given birth twice before, this is different.

“Just keep doing what you’re doing.” Cashmere encourages as tiny feet appear, “everything is ok.” It’s not ideal, but if they keep the baby moving-

“Where’s Peeta?” Katniss turns to Haymitch.

His eyes are glossy, hesitant to reply, “he’s in the Capitol. They got him and Johanna. We couldn’t get to him in time. But we’re gonna talk to President Coin when we get to district thirteen and figure out the best way to get him back.”

You’re a liar. Katniss wants to scream it, to slap him, hard, for breaking his promise. But it will have to wait. You promised to save him over me.

Exhausted and frustrated, Y/N reaches a hand down to make sense of what’s happening. “Breech?”

“Yeah,” Cashmere breathes.

Finnick is just beyond the blonde’s shoulder, a pained expression on his face. Or perhaps nauseated, watching over Y/N without actively watching.

“Once we deliver the shoulders, it should be easy.” Katniss has seen this before, her mother delivered a handful of breech babies, as a healer. The women of district twelve would call on her when the babies got stuck.

Y/N pushes again, crying out as she does.

Haymitch rests his cheek against the crown of her head. “I’m sorry.” He apologizes to the sound of her sobs. “I’m so sorry.”

Y/N continues, the same way Haymitch has known her to face any difficulty, with fierce determination. The infant is placed on her chest, kicking and crying. Healthy; same as her brother and sister before her.

Part 16

#haymitch abernathy x y/n #haymitch abernathy fanfic #thg haymitch #haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch abernathy #haymitch abernathy x you #haymitch x y/n #haymitch fanfic #haymitch abernathy x yn #haymitch x reader #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark

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nebulablakemurphy · 1 year

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Moves & Countermoves (Part 14)

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

Sunlight seeps through the curtains of Y/N and Haymitch’s room at the tribute center. Katniss and Peeta are taken to suit up for the games.

Y/N does not want to leave this bed; she does not want to live this nightmare.

Haymitch startles himself awake with his own snoring. He had too much to drink last night, after Chaff refused his bangle and the alliance.

“No, Haymitch. Give those kids their best chance.”

They fought, then made up; the way brothers do. Still it is Finnick wearing Haymitch’s token into the arena.

Y/N turns over in Haymitch’s arms, resting her head against his chest, lulled by the steady rise and fall.

“I can hear you thinking.”

“Bullshit,” she calls it.

Haymitch huffs a laugh, “it’s true.”

“Fine. What am I thinking?”

He flicks her ear, playfully. “Never said I was a fucking mind reader.” I just know you.

“His leg.” Y/N confesses, “Peeta won’t be able to take the prosthetic off. It hurts when he leaves it on too long.”

Haymitch sighs, “the kid’s strong. He’ll pull through.”

“I won’t be able to live with myself if anything happens to them.”

“You’d be surprised by the things you can live with.” He knows first hand.

Y/N holds her tongue.

“I know it’s not fair and I know that it hurts you.” I hate that it hurts you. I hate that it hurts them. The damn kids that grew on him like warts.

She lifts her head from his chest, staring into those tired, blue eyes. Tracing the furrow between his brows, “it’s not your fault.”

“So you can read minds.”

“No, I just know that you hate yourself.”

At this Haymitch laughs, rumbling out from deep in his chest. “Hate is such a strong word.”

“I love you, Haymitch,” she tells him.

He half smiles, “now that is your own fault.”

————————————————————————

The viewing room is different this year, all sponsors have chosen tributes. The arena theme is unclear but the tropical setting will make for an interesting game.

Finnick will thrive there, which is good news for all of them.

Katniss is visibly shaken when she’s raised onto the pedestal. Peeta is placed strategically on the opposite side of the cornucopia.

“Let the Seventy-Fifth Hunger Games begin. May the odds be ever in your favor. Ten, nine……”

“Something’s wrong.” Y/N covers her mouth with one hand.

“Eight.”

“Cashmere’s right there,” Haymitch points out. “She’s in a good spot.”

“Seven.”

“Brutus.” He’s on the opposite side, not really an enemy, certainly not a friend.

“Six.”

“Well there’s no perfect spot.” Peeta’s got Mags, and Parker. The male tribute from ten, without allegiance to the rebels or the Capitol.

“Five.”

People are going to die in the bloodbath, there’s no way around it.

“Four, three, two, one……” Cannon.

Katniss dives in, swimming toward the rocky pathway which leads to the cornucopia. Brutus comes up about the same time, hot on her trail for a moment, before jumping back into the water.

Gloss is keeping an eye on her as Cashmere reaches the weapons; securing her own, her brother’s and the bow. Gloss trips up, leaving Katniss alone when she finds Cashmere.

“Katniss,” the blonde says, gently. Extending the bow and arrows to her, with the arm sporting Y/N’s gold bracelet.

Katniss eyes the token. This is who Y/N’s chosen, above anyone else. After a moment she nods, accepting the weapon and drawing it quickly.

Gloss joins them, gathering his sword without a word. Prepared to defend them against the other victors. All three turn to Finnick, ready to strike.

“Good thing we’re allies, right?” He also flashes a bangle.

Leaving Katniss too stunned to speak.

“Duck.” Finnick warns, throwing his trident; it lands in district five’s male tribute. Cannon. “Don’t trust two. I’ll take this side, you three hold them off.”

“We need to find Peeta.” Cashmere says, shocking Katniss farther.

“I’m on it.” Finnick disappears, beyond the edge of the cornucopia.

A flicker of dark hair crosses the screen and Haymitch grabs Y/N’s face. Turning her away from the screen and holding her hostage as she bats at his hands.

“What are you doing?” She protests, continuing to push at him.

“Don’t look.”

A scream, the slash and stab. The blood that gushes out in its wake.

“Haymitch, please, who is it?” Y/N is panicking in earnest now.

Cannon. Her body tumbles into the water.

“Seeder.” Haymitch releases her, spared from the image forever ingrained in his mind.

“Mags found Peeta, he’s over here.” Finnick calls.

Peeta is grappling with Parker near his pedestal.

Katniss tries to line up a shot, but it’s impossible with the tangle of limbs. Eventually they both go down, under the water. Finnick dives in to assist but the cannon booms.

“Peeta?”

The viewing room is still, until that blonde head of hair pops out. Panting and disoriented, searching for Katniss. When he finds her there Peeta knows it is worth it. The bloodshed, the fight, the reason to keep on living is right here. “Katniss.”

“Peeta,” the archer reaches for him from the rocks.

Just that morning, Katniss told him she wanted no allies, only him. Luckily something seems to have swayed her. Cashmere, Gloss, Finnick and Mags have joined them. Together they set off into the forest for refuge, taking a moment to breathe about half a mile out.

The cannon sounds, five more times, in quick succession. “Guess we’re not holding hands anymore.” Finnick remarks.

“You think that’s funny?” Katniss sneers.

“Every time that cannon goes off is music to my ears.”

“Finnick,” Cashmere warns, with a shake of her head.

“Let’s keep moving,” Peeta insists.

The forest is deep, vines hanging in all directions. Peeta is at the forefront beside Gloss, hacking down the overgrowth to clear a path.

Katniss spots the shimmering ahead, something not quite right about the edge of her sightline. A forcefield. “Peeta, no!”

He rebounds off the electro current, knocking down the others. His body emitting hints of smoke.

“He’s not breathing.” Katniss cries, turning Peeta onto his back.

“Anybody know CPR?”

“I do,” Finnick takes over.

Katniss keeps a close eye, not sure that she trusts him.

Cashmere touches her back and the girl flinches, “it’s ok, Katniss.”

Haymitch watches intently, he does not turn Y/N away or even attempt to. Come on Finnick. Come on Peeta.

“Come on. Come on, Peeta.”

“Please, Peeta.”

The boy gasps, drawing fresh air into his lungs.

Y/N’s shoulders sag in relief, running a soothing hand over the lively child in her belly.

“Alright,” Haymitch huffs, resting a hand over hers. “Everybody calm down.” As if he himself hadn’t been in a state of unrest. He leans forward, addressing their child directly. “That means you too.”

There it is, the familiar brush of his lips against her stomach. Y/N realizes that she hasn’t felt it as frequently this time around. Perhaps she prevented it, she wasn’t ready and he knew it. She regrets that now.

————————————————————————-

After some investigation Katniss discovers that the arena is a dome.

“We’re safest with our backs protected, I say we set up camp here for the night.” Gloss says, eyes still scanning the area.

“I’ll take first watch,” Finnick volunteers.

“Not a chance,” Katniss grunts out.

“Honey, that thing I did back there for Peeta, that was called saving his life.” Finnick cocks his head to the side. “If I wanted to kill either one of you, I would’ve done it by now.”

“Enough,” Cashmere cuts in, they’re worse than a couple of kids.

“Just for a little bit, let’s get some rest.” Peeta squeezes Katniss’ arm as he passes. Tucking in comfortably, against one of the trees and falling asleep.

Finnick helps Mags get settled. Cashmere and Gloss break off in the opposite corner.

“We’ve gotta get them some water.” Y/N picks at her nails, anxiously.

“You want me to go?” Haymitch offers.

“I’ll go.” Sponsors this year are chomping at the bit to send essentials for their favorite tributes. All seated near the request booth. Y/N paints on a smile as she approaches them.

“Y/N,” a hand reaches out to grab her. “We’ve been waiting to help Katniss and the baby.” The Capitol woman coos.

“That is so kind, thank you.” She jerks her chin towards the desk. “Come with me?”

The woman squeals in delight, nearly leaving behind her pocketbook in haste.

“We’d like to send my tributes water.” Y/N tells the man working the booth.

“How many bottles?”

“Not bottles.” Y/N wracks her brain, “do you have any kind of filtration system?”

“Nothing portable.”

So they can’t use the salt water.

“Is this an arena without any fresh water?”

“There is water.” The man says, giving Y/N nothing to work with.

————————————————————————

Katniss can’t risk sleeping, so she sits up with Finnick as the sky grows dark.

“How’s Peeta?”

“He’s ok, I think.” Katniss croaks out. “Just dehydrated like the rest of us.”

The national anthem rings out over the arena, lighting up the sky with images of the fallen.

Katniss thinks of her mentors then. How many were their friends?

A chime finds their ears as the Horn of Plenty ends. A parachute. Water, Katniss hopes.

She moves for it, splitting open the metal container. No water, just a note and…

“What’s that?” Finnick wonders, looks painful to use.

“From Haymitch and Y/N, I think it’s a spile.”

“A what?” Finnick follows her to the nearest tree, watching as she hammers the sharp end in with a rock. The sound wakes Peeta.

For a moment there is nothing, Katniss slams her fist against the tree. She can survive without food, she’s done it before, but not without water.

“Why isn’t it working?” Y/N is fuming, ready to wring the man’s neck who sent the faulty tool. But then, by some miracle, a steady stream of water begins to flow.

Once everyone has had their fill, those not on watch return to sleeping.

“Well if you’re not going to sleep, I will.” Finnick decides.

“Go ahead,” Katniss nods, prepared to handle it on her own.

The viewing room begins to clear out, supply booths are closed and most sponsors have excused themselves. Y/N and Haymitch take the elevator up to their floor, switching on the projector as they ready for bed.

Cashmere comes to sit beside Katniss, noticing that she keeps dozing off. The blonde says nothing, just offers a soft smile before turning her gaze out to the forest.

Y/N dares to close her own eyes, wrapped up in Haymitch’s arms as he massages the back of her scalp.

“Ahhhhh!”

Y/N turns back to the games. Back to Katniss with blisters on her hand from the thick mist.

Haymitch hisses, “get outta there, sweetheart.”

“Run!” Katniss calls, rousing the rest. “Run! The fog is poison.”

Maybe this is part of Plutarch’s plan, make it believable.

Finnick has Mags on his back, bringing up the rear. Katniss and Peeta are between Gloss and Cashmere, offering whatever protection they can. But the fog is closing in from all sides, leaving no clear path.

Poison hits each of them in turn, Cashmere worse than Gloss, who doubles back for his sister. Peeta worse than Katniss when his foot gets caught on a root.

Finnick wails when the mist finds him. Mags is silent, though the pain is evident on her features, arms coming loose enough to topple them both over.

“Mags, please!” Finnick rushes her back on.

The six of them stumble over each other, fighting to clear the effected area which spans endless.

Peeta is down, unconscious.

“Peeta,” Katniss shakes him, patting at his face. “Peeta, we have to keep moving.”

“Shit,” Haymitch curses.

Y/N paces the small space beside the night stand, tethered by her husband’s hand.

Gloss has Cashmere tucked up under his arm, her skin a tapestry of raised blisters. “We need to get him up.”

Cashmere pants out. “I’m…it’s bad. Save Peeta.”

Finnick and Mags stop to assess the damage.

“Here,” Katniss approaches Cashmere, tossing one arm over her shoulder. “I’ll take her.”

Gloss does not argue, gathering Peeta and dragging him forward.

“We’re almost-”

“Katniss, you have to leave me.” Cashmere insists.

“No,” Katniss cuts her off.

In the end it is Mags who disappears into the fog, allowing Finnick to help the others. The cannon that follows is deafening, paired with Finnick’s agonized scream.

It hits Y/N square in the chest, her knees buckle, sinking back onto the bed. She does not cry. Allowing anger to fill the holes left by the games. It seeps into her blood, familiar and all consuming. Burning hot.

Haymitch can feel the shift, from grief to rage and he does not fault her for it.

Y/N blinks at the screen. “I can’t live with it.”

“I’ll help you.” Take it out on me, if you need to. Just let me make it better…at least let me try.

Part 15

#haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch abernathy x you #haymitch abernathy x y/n #thg haymitch #haymitch abernathy fanfic #haymitch x reader #haymitch abernathy #haymitch x y/n #haymitch fanfic #haymitch abernathy x yn #the hunger games fanfiction #peeta mellark #katniss everdeen

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nebulablakemurphy · 1 year

Text

Moves & Countermoves (Part 17)

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

“People of Panem, we fight, we-” Katniss freezes, staring at her own reflection. Makeup done, hair styled to perfection, holding up a stick for the camera. This isn’t real. This isn’t war.

“Does she know the line?” Plutarch asks, into the microphone, for all to hear.

“I know it.” Katniss shakes her head to clear it.

“She’s just warming up.” Effie explains. Even she has joined the effort, leaving behind her drab quarters for Katniss.

“Alright, let’s go again. Whenever you’re ready.” Plutarch instructs.

Y/N sways, soothing her tired infant to a sleepy submission on the opposite side of the glass. Daisy May is not fond of sleep, especially with the world bustling around her.

Katniss gets back down on one knee. This is take three.

“Maybe if you show her.” Cashmere whispers to Y/N.

“Might not be a bad idea.” Plutarch watches the mockingjay, with a hand to his head.

“Yeah?” Y/N is willing to try.

“Here,” Cashmere puts her arms out, “gimme the baby.”

Y/N looks down at her daughter, kissing her tiny nose and handing her off.

She fusses for a moment, in Cashmere’s hold.

“Shh,” the blonde coos, allowing the baby to take a fistful of hair. “It’s ok, my Daisy.”

The little girl sighs, closing her grumpy eyes, never letting go of Cashmere’s waves.

“Ok, Katniss, Y/N’s coming in to do a demonstration. Just follow her lead and we’ll go from there.”

“Yeah, ok.” Katniss’ eyes scan the reflective surface, searching for her.

A second later, her mentor pops through the connecting side door. She is not made up, or wearing some crazy outfit, her stylist squeezed her into; she is just Y/N. Somehow that is enough.

“I’m a method actor, obviously.” Loved her fake husband so much that their staged marriage became a real one.

Not that Haymitch is any better. Content to kiss the ground where she walks, if he couldn’t be with her.

The joke lands only with Plutarch and Cashmere. Katniss thinks she understands, but doesn’t find it all that funny.

“First thing’s first, I’m gonna move around a little, get the blood flowing, get that shortness of breath.”

Katniss moves with her, trotting in place like a show horse.

“Good, now we’ll go down on one knee.” Y/N demonstrates and Katniss follows. “Slowly and with some effort, I’m gonna rise to my feet.”

“Because you’ve just been in battle.”

“Exactly,” Y/N smiles, before her features harden.

She is a thousand miles away, just stormed the outskirts of the Capitol. The ease with which she shifts from one to the other terrifies Katniss.

“People of Panem, we fight, we dare, we end our hunger for justice!”

Even with the wind and the stupid stick in Y/N’s hand, raised in the air, Katniss almost believes it. This is the type of person that fuels a rebellion.

She was the people’s victor. She won her own way, same as Haymitch. So Snow manacled them together and scarred them with his brand.

The more Katniss learns about Y/N the more her heart aches, for the indifference she held toward her for so long. To know her is to love her and it’s a shame that not many people ever did.

“Yes! That was perfect.” Plutarch exclaims, “Katniss, now you try it. Just like that.”

“O-ok,” Katniss stammers.

Y/N moves aside, switching places so that Katniss is on the pedestal.

Katniss repeats the words verbatim, copying Y/N’s performance as best she can. She only agreed to be the face of the revolution after seeing what happened to district twelve. After seeing the reaction to Peeta’s interview with Caesar, she knows this is the only way to protect him.

There’s a slow clap from the corner, growing closer until he steps into view. The top of his blonde hair covered by a dark knit hat. “And that is how a revolution dies.”

Katniss glares at Haymitch, his hand resting at Y/N’s waist, as if no time has passed between them.

“Is this how you greet an old friend?” Haymitch cocks his head to the side.

“Maybe I don’t recognize you sober.” Katniss bites out.

“I guess it looks as bad as it feels.”

Y/N turns to him, whispering something Katniss can’t make out.

He offers her a smile and a chaste kiss.

Katniss sees herself and Peeta. The way they might have been, ten years down the line. Peeta would love her like that…and she’d love him the only way she could.

It would bubble up and swell in her chest, until she burst. Just like Haymitch, pouring from an empty cup.

————————————————————————

Katniss sinks down in her chair, as the propo plays for the team. Wishing she could melt into it, disappear. No one’s going to buy this.

Y/N rubs at her back, “it’s not as bad as you think.”

“You’re right,” Haymitch cuts in, “it’s worse.” He’s always been a tough love kind of guy. Even with an infant strapped to his chest, he isn’t brimming with compassion.

Y/N rolls her eyes, “not helping.”

“Indulge me for a moment.” Haymitch holds both hands up in surrender. “Lets everybody think of one incident where Katniss Everdeen genuinely moved you.” He moves to the digital display, in front of the meeting table. “One moment where she made you feel something real.”

“Ooo,” Effie waves a hand. “When she volunteered for her sister at the reaping.”

“Excellent example.” Haymitch uses his forearm to clear data from the screen. He’s observed enough of Y/N and her tablet over the years, this technology is no different. “Hope that wasn’t important.” He steals a glance over his shoulder, before scribbling in, ‘volunteer 4 sis,’ with the stylus.

“And when she volunteered for Y/N.”

“When she sang that song for little Rue.”

Haymitch adds it to the list. “You know Effie, I like you better without all that makeup.”

“Well, I like you better sober.” The woman says in return, causing Haymitch to glare at her.

“When she chose Rue for an ally as well.” Beetee chimes in.

“Now, what do all of these things have in common?”

“Nobody told her what to do.” Gale understands better than anyone.

“Unscripted,” Beetee agrees, “yes. So maybe we should just leave her alone.”

“And wash her face.” Boggs narrows his eyes, “she’s still a girl, you made her look thirty-five.”

Katniss smiles at this.

“The opportunities for spontaneity are obviously lacking, here below ground.” Plutarch points out. “So what you’re suggesting is that we toss her into combat?”

“I can’t sanction putting an untrained civilian into combat for effect. This isn’t the Capitol,” Coin argues.

“Oh, that’s exactly what I’m suggesting. Put her in the field.” Haymitch knows this is the only way.

“No, we won’t be able to protect her.” The president looks to Y/N now. Surely she is not onboard with this.

“It has to come from her, that’s what people respond to. You want a symbol for the revolution, she cannot be coached into it. Trust me, I know.” Haymitch presses on.

“He’s right,” Y/N sighs. “It’s not ideal but…it’s our only option.”

“Maybe there’s someplace less dangerous.”

“District eight, they sustained heavy bombings last week. No military targets left.”

“We can’t guarantee her safety.”

“You’ll never be able to guarantee my safety,” Katniss adds. “I wanna go.”

“And if you’re killed?” Alma’s words hang heavy between them.

“Make sure you get it on camera.”

————————————————————————

“You realize this is dangerous, let alone highly irresponsible.” Haymitch remarks, watching his wife load her gun. The bullets are color coded; black for regular, yellow are incendiary, and red for explosive. Though they’ve been asked not to fire the red ones down here.

“Yeah.” Y/N cocks the gun, squeezing the trigger and letting the bullet fly. She’s gotten better with practice, now hitting her target at dead center. “You don’t approve?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then what are you saying, Haymitch?”

“As your former mentor, I’m not inclined to advise you waltzing into a war zone.” You search for water. High ground, stay away from the cornucopia.

Y/N nods, “and as my husband?”

“I’m even less inclined.” Though his feelings for her have shifted over the years, the need to protect her is fierce and unwavering.

“I can’t lose Katniss.” Not like we lost Peeta.

“Yeah,” Haymitch huffs, “I get that.”

She sets down her weapon, on the steel table in the training room. “I’m a good shot.”

“You are.”

“I’ve been working on my stamina, I’m almost back to where I was before Daisy.”

Haymitch won’t deny it. “You’ve got good aim, you’re fast, resourceful and a little bit scrappy. You can survive in harsh conditions.” You’re my victor. “But there’s a hole in your uterus the size of a dinner plate.”

“Was,” Y/N corrects him. “The doctors cleared me for this.”

“I watched you almost bleed to death; twice. So you’ll have to forgive me for being reluctant to let you risk your life. I understand that this is important to you-”

She turns, cupping his cheek, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose. “I wouldn’t want you to go either. I love you too much.”

Haymitch affords her a soft grin, “that always gets in the way, doesn’t it?”

Y/N lifts a shoulder, “somehow I just keep getting sucked in deeper.”

“You keep getting sucked in?” He chuckles. “I was perfectly content on my own for over a decade, before you put your hooks in me.”

At this she laughs, harder than she should. “Don’t make it sound so romantic now.”

Still his arms are around her. Y/N’s at the nape of his neck, toying with the hair that has started growing in with gray peppered throughout and makes him feel every bit his age.

Their lips meet, by her accord or his own; he can’t say for certain. Y/N bids him closer. Deeper, harder, more. I’m yours. Nothing more, nothing less…just hers.

“Stay off him!” Cashmere scolds from the entryway, effectively breaking them apart. “It’s like you’re trying to singlehandedly repopulate this hellhole.”

“Our contribution to this great nation,” Haymitch salutes her.

————————————————————————

“We’ve gotta be quick about this. Get in and get out.” Boggs orders, as they file out of the hovercraft. Nobody wants the mockingjay on the ground for long.

Introductions are brief. Commander Paylor, of district eight, shows them to the makeshift hospital.

Bodies of fallen civilians line the entrance, covered only by tarps. “There’s a mass grave, about two miles west. But I can’t spare the manpower to move them.”

This place is a breeding ground for infection. All the wounded in one place, nothing sterile in sight.

“Don’t film me in there. I can’t help them,” Katniss says to Cressida, as they move farther into the masses.

“Just let them see you,” the woman insists. She left the Capitol for this, she knows what she’s doing.

“Come on,” Y/N gives her shoulder a squeeze.

Katniss opens her mouth to speak but Y/N disappears into the crowd, helping nurse the wounded.

There is someone in the corner; no one tends her, she is alone and clearly suffering. A bucket of water, with a single sponge inside, sits beside her, bandages to the left.

“I’m surprised they let you out just to show face. Thought you were more important than that.” The woman from district eight says.

“I’m not here to show face. I’m here to support Katniss and what I believe in.” Y/N takes a seat, beginning to clean her wounds.

“You sure this is the side you fall on?” She chokes out. “There’s no fancy parties or big houses here.”

Y/N lifts a shoulder. “I never liked the parties and the house wasn’t very homey. The only good thing about it was my family inside.”

“People used to look up to you.”

“That was a long time ago,” Y/N murmurs.

“They will again.” The woman is sure of it, “and when they do, make sure you’re ready. Make sure you stay on the right side of things.”

“I was just trying to survive, couldn’t see beyond that.”

“He’ll kill you for this.” President Snow. “For standing with us.”

Y/N nods, with a tired smile. “Yeah.”

“Then why are you here?”

“This is what I believe in…a new Panem. Where we are equals and have a say in our own lives. It’s worth the risk. It’s gonna take all of us, every person in every district, we all have to fight for it.”

The woman presses her lips together, allowing Y/N to dress her wounds. She says nothing else, looking up at the victor, from time to time. I see you.

It feels good to be seen, by a stranger who owes her nothing. Someone to see her without the tainted film of rose colored glasses.

————————————————————————

“How have things been since your release?” Dr. Aurelius inquires.

“Alright, I guess.” Haymitch is not here of his own free will. “Never gonna be good, given the prohibition you have going on around here. But I’d rather be with my family than locked up a mile away.”

“Tell me about your family.”

“My son’s name is Everest, he’s ten. My daughter, Arista is six and Daisy is four weeks old. Then obviously Y/N and her family. Katniss.” Peeta.

“Were they planned? The children.”

“Yes and no.” Haymitch scrubs a hand over his face.

“Can you explain what that means?”

“I don’t want…” Haymitch pauses, “our children are not burdens, Y/N and I have always said that. Those kids are everything and I don’t want that getting twisted. Ever.”

“Of course.”

“Snow gave us deadlines and we met them. With Everest and Arista, we had a year. In that year Y/N needed to be pregnant.”

“But not Daisy?”

“They screwed around with Y/N’s birth control. We’re fertile people, it doesn’t take much.” Haymitch admits.

“And your marriage, would you call it a happy one?”

“Yes, by my account. But I’m sure she’s told you all about me.” This is a joke, for the most part.

“I can’t say much, as it would be a breach of confidentiality. Still you should know, she speaks highly of you. She loves you very much.”

Haymitch drops his gaze.

“Where did you go just now?”

“Nowhere.” Haymitch brushes it off, “I was just thinking.”

“Thinking about Y/N?”

“Isn’t it fucked up how someone like that could love someone me?”

“In what way?” Dr. Aurelius asks.

“I mean you’ve met her.” Haymitch huffs, “had a few sessions.”

“Sure.”

“She’s special.”

The doctor lets him speak.

“She’s a good person. She’s smart and she’s funny and she deserves the world.” Haymitch shifts in the chair, “she got me instead. Not exactly a fair trade.”

“I don’t think she feels that way.” The doctor informs him.

“Hmm,” Haymitch mulls it over.

“From the sound of it, you have always been very protective. Now you tend the children, so she can aide the rebellion. That must be hard for you.”

Haymitch scoffs, “I want to chase her down and bring her back.”

“Then why haven’t you.”

“If you love something, you set it free or some bullshit like that.”

“You love her deeply.”

“Coin offered to ‘dissolve’ our marriage. Did Y/N tell you that?” Haymitch changes the subject.

Aurelius sighs, “she didn’t mention it.”

“Tell me, oh great one, what does that mean?”

“Her mind is made up about you, Haymitch. Whether it’s right or wrong, no matter who deserves what, the heart wants what it wants. You are what she wants.”

“I want her too,” Haymitch snaps.

“You’ve mentioned that you struggle with the fact that Y/N didn’t get to choose you as a partner. Yet each time she does, you cannot accept that she is choosing you. As though you feel unworthy, unlovable.”

“Is that your official diagnosis?” Haymitch wonders, making no effort to confirm or deny.

The doctor flips quickly between entries in his notebook. “There is no distinction in any area of your relationship, a true lack of boundaries. All of your triumphs and failures, all of your sadness and your joy, is either sourced from her or the lives you’ve created together.” Dr. Aurelius tosses both hands up. “The greatest tragedies ever written are love stories, after all.”

Part 18

#haymitch abernathy x y/n #haymitch x reader #thg haymitch #haymitch x y/n #haymitch abernathy x you #haymitch abernathy #haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch fanfic #haymitch abernathy x yn #haymitch abernathy fanfic #peeta mellark #katniss everdeen #moves & countermoves

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nebulablakemurphy · 1 year

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Moves & Countermoves (Part 16)

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

It is cold and dark, woken from a peaceful slumber to run. Everyone around them is yelling, it’s always scary when grown ups yell.

They are scrambling now, tripping over each other in haste, to get to the woods. A place they’ve been forbidden to go.

“Come on, baby. Keep up.” His aunt insists, in a voice that sounds so like his mother’s. His mother.

“What about my mom and dad?” Everest asks.

“We’ll see them soon.” Madge tells him.

The sky opens and rains fire.

“You said we had an hour.” Gale shouts, over the commotion.

“They must’ve launched the fleet out of district eleven.” Everest’s grandfather calls back. “Get to the woods.”

He is a quiet man. Even tempered, he does not yell; yet he is yelling.

“Dad!” Aunt Madge tries to catch him, but her hands are full.

Full of Arista and me.

“Captain goes down with the ship.” He is gone, lost in the smoke, never to return. A debt paid for the lives he saved.

“No!” Everest wants to go back. Run to him, change it, but he can’t. Someone is holding him still, shaking his shoulders.

“Everest.”

His mother. But she isn’t here. She couldn’t be.

“Shh, shh.”

Mom. The boy startles awake, in their new living quarters of district thirteen. Just a dream.

The baby is crying, he must have woken her too.

Still his mother is there, rocking him gently, smoothing down his hair. “I’m here, you’re safe.”

Everest clings to her, watching as she uses a foot to push the bassinet from side to side. Quieting his littlest sister.

Daisy May.

A child wrought into the world through his mother’s blood, sweat and tears. She cries like it pains her to be separated from the woman who’s given her life and he does not blame her.

“Here, you can come lay with me.” Y/N offers, it is hard to be in two places at once.

Everest climbs into her bed, the spot left vacant by his father. The doctors are trying to make him comfortable, while his body adjusts to the lack of alcohol.

To the victors go the spoils.

————————————————————————

Morning comes much too early, signified by the shifting brightness of lights, rather than the sun.

Everest and Arista leave with Madge for school. There aren’t many children here in thirteen, most teachers have been made useful elsewhere.

This is one of the few things she has allowed, over their three weeks underground, hoping it will help the children acclimate.

Y/N sets her daughter down, in the makeshift bassinet, causing the infant to wail in protest.

“Just for a minute, just for a minute.” She’s coos, pulling on her jumpsuit as fast as she can. Even showering has proven difficult without the extra set of hands. Without Haymitch.

“Civilian Abernathy.” One of the guards call from outside the door.

“She’s fine.” Y/N assures him, finishing up the last of her buttons and tossing the baby sling over her head. Reaching down for the infant, she situates her gently. The silence is instant.

“Happy to hear it. Your presence is requested by President Coin.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. If it’s not one president it’s another. She opens the door to find the same man who’s been keeping an eye on her since arrival. “It’s not on my schedule.” She holds out her forearm, showcasing the printed timesheet.

“Your schedule will be revised to compensate the time.”

“Perfect.” Y/N forces a smile. “Any idea what this is about?” She follows him down to the elevator.

“I’m just here to escort you.” He draws the large metal doors closed around them.

“Ever had anybody jump?” They must be thirty stories up.

The soldier shifts. “Are you thinking about it?”

“No,” she shrugs, “just making conversation.”

They reach their destination and the gates plunk open, “charming.”

The rest of their trek is silent. He opens the door and then closes her inside to stand watch. Leaving her to the wolves.

“Y/N, thank you for meeting with me.” Alma Coin says, seated at the long rectangular table. “Please, have a seat.”

“She likes it better when I stand.” Y/N says, patting the child on her chest as she approaches the table.

“Of course.” Coin nods, “you look well.”

“I’m weller than I was when I got here.” Unconscious and hemorrhaging from birth complications.

Plutarch smiles. Hello again.

“I was glad to hear that you’ve received a clear bill of health from our medical team.” Coin runs the tip of her pen over paper as she speaks.

“So the therapist you have me meeting with is just for fun?” Y/N cocks her head to the side.

“For anyone to endure the level of psychological abuse that you have seen and still persevere…you are an inspiration to us all.”

Y/N swallows hard. What do you want?

“Even still, we feel it’s beneficial for you to continue your sessions with Dr. Aurelius.”

“Any word on extracting the victors being held in the Capitol?” Peeta. Johanna. Annie.

“Rest assured, we are working around the clock to find a safe and effective way to liberate the other victors.”

Y/N nods, bouncing lightly from one foot to the other.

“I hear Haymitch is nearing the end of his withdrawal process and will be assimilated into the general population in the next few days.” Coin continues.

Another nod.

“I understand how delicate this subject may be for you, but if you’d like to keep separate quarters-”

“Why would I do that?” Y/N demands.

Plutarch clears his throat. Alma Coin is about to step over the line and finally understand why Snow kept such tight reins on his Capitol darling.

“Given your history.”

“History?”

“This can be a fresh start for the both of you.” Coin replies, softly. “Dissolve the marriage, with custody arrangements for the children.”

“I don’t want to dissolve my marriage.” Maybe there was some version of her that did. A casualty of war, buried long before his babies grew inside her.

“This is all you’ve known since you were nineteen. I can see how the idea of leaving would be intimidating.”

“You don’t know half the hell I’ve been through, or what Haymitch had to do for me to be standing in this room today. If you did, you wouldn’t be insinuate that this ‘arrangement’ is something I want.” Y/N’s chest heaves, anger boiling in her veins.

“Forgive me.” President Coin concedes, “I didn’t mean to offend you, it was only an offer.”

“I appreciate the thought, but it won’t be necessary. If that’s all-”

“There is one more thing,” Alma is not yet finished, “in regards to Katniss.”

Leave her alone. “Katniss needs more time.”

The president steeples her hands. “I wish we had that to offer, unfortunately the revolution has grown stagnant. We need to fuel this fire, otherwise we might be waiting another seventy-five years.”

“What do you want her to do?”

Now Plutarch takes the floor. “We’d like to shoot a series of propaganda, I like to call them propos. Ideally, we would use you and Katniss in tandem. The districts will follow Katniss, but the Capitol will follow you.”

We would use you. “Can I talk to her first?”

“Please do.” This is a clear dismissal.

————————————————————————

“Sorry I’m late.” Y/N is all but panting when she reaches her husband. Past the rooms harboring Cashmere, Finnick, Katniss and the other patients of thirteen.

He stops bouncing the muted green ball off the wall, catching it in hand. There’s not much to do down here, especially in what feels like solitary confinement. The good doctors are all concerned with his fine motor skills. Haymitch simply tells them, ‘they’re fine.’ Somehow they don’t find this funny.

He gives his wife a tired grin. “Word is, you got stuck in a meeting with Coin…anything new on Peeta?”

“No,” Y/N sighs, “she called me in to tell me about her master plan with Plutarch.”

“Ah,” Haymitch chortles, “do tell.”

“They wanna use Katniss to appeal to the districts and use me to rally support in the Capitol.” She plops, unceremoniously, onto his bed, shoes and all. Removing the baby from her carrier when she begins to fuss.

Thirteen’s jumpsuits are nothing to write home about, but easy enough to open and nurse at a moment’s notice.

“I can think of a few reasons as to why it won’t work.” Haymitch sits at the foot of his mattress.

“Lay it on me.”

“First of all, Katniss can’t act. Not to save her life.”

Y/N lifts a shoulder, “maybe she’ll do better with practice.”

“I think it’ll be harder than they’re expecting. Especially now, without-” Peeta.

“Yeah,” Y/N looks away.

“What else is wrong?” He knocks her knee.

“Coin offered to dissolve our marriage.”

Haymitch shifts, “and what did you say?”

“I told her to fuck herself.” Y/N says, with a hand over Daisy’s ear. “Nicely.”

At this he smiles, “good. I’m glad we’re both in agreement.”

Y/N reaches for his hand. “You look really good today, Haymitch.” Healthy. No longer trembling or in pain, from lack of alcohol.

“You too.” This separation thing is brutal. They’ve never been apart like this since before they were married.

Y/N can’t run down, at any hour after a nightmare, to crawl into his bed. Same way she couldn’t sit by his bedside and comfort him, when he needed it most, because their children needed her.

“Don’t do that,” he chides.

“Do what?”

“Don’t cry. Don’t.” He moves in closer, putting an arm around her, with Daisy nursing between them.

“I just miss you.” I wanna be with you.

Haymitch inhales, deeply. “When I get outta here, I’m gonna be so far up your ass-” This earns him a laugh, so he keeps going. “You’re going to be sick of me.” I wanna be with you too.

————————————————————————-

“Katniss.” She is in the same place Y/N left her. Alone in her room, with her mind out to sea.

The girl says nothing, acknowledging Y/N with a glance as she rolls Peeta’s pearl between her fingers.

“I was hoping we could talk.”

Katniss pauses to consider. “I stayed with you.”

“Hmm?”

“I stayed with you and slept in that stupid chair by your bed for three days, before they made me leave.”

“Katniss.”

“They took Haymitch first, when his headaches got too bad. Madge took the baby and it was just us.” Katniss recounts, “I thought you were gonna die.”

Y/N runs a hand over her dark hair, loose from its braid.

“Then you got up and kept on living, like nothing happened. Like Haymitch wasn’t drying out in some facility, like the bombs never went off, like the games never happened and Peeta isn’t gone.” Katniss says, “but I’m not like you, I can’t do that.”

I hope you don’t end up like me, Katniss. “Can I show you something?”

Katniss nods.

“This is a trick somebody taught me a long time ago. I think it might help.” Y/N holds out a hand.

Katniss mirrors her.

“I feel everything right in my chest. All my pain, worry, anger; it always starts right there.” She gently rests her hand over her heart, just above where her child sleeps, content in her sling.

Katniss follows, placing a hand on her own stomach.

“I just hold it there and think.”

“Think about what?”

“What I’m going to do with those feelings. Sometimes all I can do is feel them. Other times I can channel them into something else, something good.”

“Haymitch taught you that, didn’t he?”

‘That’s where it hurts, huh? Right here?’ Haymitch rubs at the ache in her chest.

That was a lifetime ago. “He did.”

Katniss allows her hand to fall away. “I can’t forgive him.” Not yet, maybe not ever.

“I’m not asking you to.”

This stuns Katniss, eyes wide, searching.

“I do want you to remember that he cares about you and he cares about Peeta. Leaving him behind isn’t something he wanted. It was a choice we had to make; the Capitol fleet was within firing distance. We took a hit and we still circled back, but Peeta and Johanna were already gone.”

“I didn’t know.”

“How could you know?” Y/N replies, ruefully. I wasn’t here to tell you.

Katniss blinks at her.

“I had a meeting today, with Plutarch and President Coin.”

“What did they want?”

“They wanna use us, namely you, to fuel the revolution.” Y/N cuts to the chase, “I’m no stranger to being used, but I have found that if you play your cards right, it can be mutually beneficial.”

“Beneficial how?” She wonders.

“Help us get Peeta back and take down Snow.”

————————————————————————

“It’s been a week since our last session. Any changes? Anything specific you’d like to talk about?”

Y/N sinks back into the chair. “My son’s been having nightmares.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Dr. Aurelius jots this down. “About anything in particular?”

“The bombs, district twelve, losing his grandfather.” My dad.

“This was your father, correct.”

“Yes.”

“And what about your husband’s family?”

“They were killed before I met him.”

“Killed?” This is news.

Y/N nods, “Snow had them killed as a punishment for how Haymitch won his games.”

“That must have been hard.”

“That’s not my story to tell.”

“Tell me your story.” The doctor crosses one leg over the other.

“Which one?” Y/N picks at the bed of her thumbnail.

“The real one, if you feel so inclined.”

“I’ve never told anyone.” Not even people I’ve known for years.

“There’s a first time for everything.”

“I don’t even know how to tell it.”

“Try.” He says simply.

“Well, I was born in district twelve, to my mother and father. My dad was the mayor and my mom…” My mom- “they both grew up in town.”

“What does that mean?” There is an implication he doesn’t understand.

“In district twelve,” which doesn’t exist anymore, “only the merchant families live in town.”

“They’re wealthy?” He deduces.

“By comparison.” Nothing like a victor’s salary.

“To what?”

“People from the Seam.” Y/N explains, “where Haymitch grew up.”

“I see.”

“The first few years, I was close with my mom’s sister, her name was Maysilee.”

“Was she lost in the bombing as well?”

“No.”

“How did she pass?”

Don’t you watch the games down here? “In the Quarter Quell, same year Haymitch won.”

“Did he kill her?”

“Come on, doc, the story’s not that twisted.” Y/N shakes her head. “They were allies.”

Part 17

#moves & countermoves #haymitch abernathy x you #haymitch x reader #haymitch fanfic #thg haymitch #haymitch abernathy fanfic #haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch x y/n #haymitch abernathy x y/n #haymitch abernathy x yn #haymitch abernathy #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark

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nebulablakemurphy · 1 year

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Moves & Countermoves (Part 13)

Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing. Trigger warning: discussions of trauma surrounding ‘desirable victors’ and mentions of sex.

The tribute parade is a glimmer of hope after a losing streak. Capitol citizens screaming and chanting for Katniss as the chariots are drawn out for display. Even the elites are vying to sponsor the star crossed lovers, who saved their mentors and the sweet little baby in Y/N’s womb.

There is no waving or smiling this year, at Cinna’s request.

“Way to make friends out there, you two.” Haymitch waves over Peeta and Katniss once they dismount the carriage.

“Well, we learned from the best,” Katniss shoots back.

“I want to introduce you to some special friends of mine, this is Chaff and Seeder.”

Seeder smiles in acknowledgment.

While Chaff closes the distance between them, giving Katniss a kiss on each cheek; then pulling away in a fit of laughter.

She is caught off guard, dismay painted across her features.

“He’s very friendly.” Haymitch chuckles, clapping his friend once on the back. “But don’t invite him over, he’ll drink up all your liquor.”

Y/N approaches with Cashmere and Gloss in tow, as if Finnick introducing himself with the sugar cube, before the parade, hadn’t been enough.

“There she is,” Chaff opens his arms, “come here.”

Y/N smiles, slinking around the side to greet him, for what might be the last time.

“It’s good to see you, baby.” He tells her, in earnest. For a minute there, I thought you were coming in with us.

“Good to see you.” She pulls away, giving Seeder a quick hug. Tears welling up in her eyes, without permission.

The older woman taps her chin, when they break apart. “Don’t you cry.”

“We wanted to come introduce ourselves,” Cashmere explains. “I’m Cashmere, this is my brother, Gloss.”

“We’ve heard nothing but good things.” Peeta says, truthfully.

“Pleasure,” Gloss grins, extending a hand to Peeta, allowing his sister to mirror the gesture with Katniss. Moving in perfect synchronization, like a well oiled machine.

“And to thank you,” Cashmere squeezes Katniss’ hand.

“For what?” Katniss wonders.

“Saving my friend.”

You love her too. The realization sits heavy in Katniss’ chest.

“Alright, let’s go get some of that makeup off you.” Haymitch spares Katniss from farther floundering.

They move into the elevator, just the victors of district twelve, until a hand slips in to stop the doors from closing.

Johanna she struts in with a heavy sigh, pressing the button for the seventh floor. “You look amazing.”

“Thank you,” Katniss responds, under her breath.

“My stylist is an idiot.” Johanna tosses her bracelets to the ground. “District seven, lumber…I’d love to bury my axe in her face.” She shuffles closer to Peeta, moving her, long, red, ponytail over her shoulder. “Unzip?”

“Sure.” Peeta stammers, earning him a death glare from Katniss.

Johanna does not look away as she strips down to nothing, without preamble.

Katniss’ mouth is slightly ajar, Peeta’s lips set in a nervous smile.

“Not in front of the children,” Y/N gasps, rushing to hold a hand over both sets of eyes.

“Come on, you know you like this.” Johanna chirps, playfully.

“I remember when mine used to sit up like that.” Y/N cranes her neck to meet Johanna’s gaze, “enjoy it.”

“Cry me a river, you’re a walking wet dream.” Johanna rolls her eyes.

Haymitch is strangely silent, enjoying their banter.

Whether they are fighting or flirting, Katniss cannot tell. In any event, she’s glad when the elevator dings on the seventh floor.

“That was fun, let’s do it again sometime.” Johanna grins, quite pleased with herself as she exits.

“Johanna Mason, district seven.”

————————————————————————

“Explain to me exactly how this is going to work.” Y/N whispers, beneath the spray of the water.

Whoever is tasked with monitoring the audio from their room, in the tribute center, must think they have the highest libidos in Panem. Though they are here to exchange information, they are also in the shower, nude, at very close proximity.

“Plutarch has access to the trackers, he can override the information.” Haymitch allows his eyes to close, at the feel of familiar fingers in his hair. “Cannon goes off while the tribute is still alive. They are extracted by the crane, from the hovercraft, same as always. One by one. Ideally, Katniss and Peeta near the end, Snow will want to see their bodies for himself. By the time he realizes what’s happened, everybody is safe, underground, in thirteen.”

“What about twelve? First thing he’ll do is retaliate.”

“We have open lines of communication, we’ll be able to warn them.”

Y/N nods, in understanding. His lips are on hers then and they are no longer pretending.

————————————————————————

Keeping this secret from Katniss and Peeta is easier than Y/N anticipated. They assume she is distancing herself out of self preservation, reverting to the calculated woman they’d met on the train last year. Neither of them blame her.

They score twelves during individual assessment, painting even larger targets on their backs. And tonight, the last night before the games, they are prepping for their interviews with Caesar.

Katniss is almost certain that the master of ceremonies will ask about her volunteering. She does not regret it, even now, she would do it again in a heartbeat. No one deserves a happy ending more than you. Katniss hates that she is being laced back into Y/N’s wedding dress.

“I think you’re going to be happy with the alterations.” Cinna fluffs up the layers of fabric.

Haymitch downs his drink, drowning the vision of his sweet girl in the dress; squeezing his fingers when it hurt too much. The way she shook like a leaf beneath him, “it’s just you and me.” She is still after that, steady; allowing him to bring her pleasure she has never known.

Crying when it is finished, because he locked himself in the bathroom to vomit. Sick over what he had done to keep her safe, while she thought he was disgusted by something she’d done.

Apologizing profusely when he returns. “Haymitch, I- I was just nervous. Not because of you…I’m sorry it wasn’t, I’m sorry you didn’t like it. I’ll do better next time.”

His heart seizes, thrumming to an unbearable ache. “It’s nothing you did. Please never think that I-” Haymitch stumbles over the words. Evidence of his ‘enjoyment’ is mixed with her blood on the sheets, rolling forth a fresh wave of nausea. “Like you said, it’s not because of you. It’s everything else.” Snow and the cameras and-

Y/N knows how much he’s already given up, the deals he made for her. “I still want it to be real someday.”

Their marriage, their love story.

“You tell me when it’s real, and I’ll ask you to marry me again.” No more rushing, no more bullshit.

“Promise?”

“I promise.” Haymitch swears. I’m getting you out of here. No matter how long it takes, I’m getting you out.

They are no longer in that room, trapped beneath the mechanical whirl of the cameras. They are here, with Y/N’s arms around his waist, one hand resting over his heart. Holding him where it hurts, because she understands him better at thirty than she could at nineteen. This dress is a prison, he hopes the girl on fire lights it up.

“These victors are angry, Katniss. They’ll say anything to try and stop the games, I suggest you do the same.”

When it is her turn to be interviewed, the audience is enamored at the sight.

“Welcome, Katniss Everdeen!” Caesar is humming with excitement. “Look at you, absolutely stunning.”

“Don’t go crying on me now, Caesar.” Katniss retorts.

“Oh, you know I can’t help it.”

“You know I wouldn’t believe you even if you did.”

“Ah ha ha, the girl on fire, so cheeky. I love it. Now, Katniss…on a more serious note, we’re all here a little disappointed, well more than a little, that a certain wedding will not be taking place.” Caesar laments, sharing his sorrow with the nation. “But here you are, in Y/N’s dress, the dress you would have worn. How do you think she feels, seeing you on stage tonight?”

“I hope that…” Katniss exhales. “I hope that she’s proud of me.” She searches beyond the blinding stage lights for Y/N, finding her in the sea of faces. She looks at Katniss the same way she always has, with love, sadness; something more. Perhaps it is pride.

“Awww.”

“I know she is,” Caesar nods. “It has been so beautiful to watch your story, to see this family you found. How you volunteered, first for your little sister and then to save your mentor. You are incredible. Would you do us the honor?”

The twirling.

Katniss finds Cinna, beside Y/N and Haymitch, catching his eye. He gives the go ahead and she begins to turn. The skirt of her dress igniting into flames, leaving a black and gray design in its wake. As fire reaches the top, it has transformed completely. Feathers at her shoulders spread with her arms. Wings.

The crowd rises from their seats, her mentors and stylist among them. Cinna has an arm around Y/N’s shoulder, “for both of you.”

“Thank you,” she leans into him.

“It’s like….it’s like a-a bird! Like a-” Caesar racks his brain.

“Like a mockingjay,” Katniss finishes for him.

“Your stylist has certainly outdone himself. Cinna, take a bow.” Caesar turns the camera’s focus to the audience.

Cinna kisses his hand and holds it up, sending all his love to Katniss. When the applause has died down, she joins the other tributes, on the risers near the back of the stage.

Peeta is last, in a pristine white suit, designed to match his wife-to-be.

“So, Peeta, the wedding.” Caesar gets right down to business. “The marriage, never to be.”

“Actually, we got married. In secret.” Peeta says, captivating the crowd to a stunned silence.

“A secret wedding? Tell us more.”

“We want our love to be eternal, Katniss and I. We’ve been luckier than most and I wouldn’t have any regrets at all if-” Peeta breaks off. “If it weren’t…”

“If it weren’t for what, Peeta?” Caesar is all but holding his breath. “What?”

“If it weren’t for the baby.”

Once again viewers are out of their seats.

“Baby!?!”

“Tell us more.”

“Well we knew that Y/N would be too far along and we all agreed that Katniss would have a better chance.” Peeta explains.

“Stop the games!” The cry heard around the Capitol, is resurgent and in full force. The victors of district twelve have not one baby at stake, but two.

“Alright now, this is news to all of us.” Caesar reminds the audience.

Their outrage echoes off the walls. “Stop the games!”

“We’re going to find out what we do about this.” Caesars attempts to stop the riot. He leans in to Peeta, asking him to go stand with the others. “It’s a great night.”

Peeta trots up the stairs to Katniss, embracing when they meet.

“Oh, my heart.” The woman behind Y/N leans over the seat. “That’s why you tried to stop her from volunteering. Because of the baby.”

Y/N nods, sniffling for effect. “I just can’t stop thinking about the babies.”

“Don’t worry, President Snow is a good man. He’ll get this figured out.” She rubs at her back.

The victors joining hands only serves to further rally the crowd. Together they watch as the lights cut off. Leaving them all in darkness.

————————————————————————

The deliberation is long, or Snow makes it out to be. Y/N, Haymitch and Effie wait, impatiently, on the bench with the other mentors. It was a good show, with a response better than they could’ve asked for. But in the end, the games are still on.

This is more or less the outcome Peeta and Katniss were expecting. Somehow that doesn’t make it any easier to deliver the news.

Haymitch has to hand it to Peeta, “baby bomb was a stroke of genius. Unfortunately, the games are still on.”

The room is still.

“This is goodbye for now.”

“Presents,” Effie reminds them, their tokens. “Bracelets for you two.”

Y/N opens her box, revealing a slightly thinner version of the bangle her husband’s been gifted.

“And for Peeta, the medallion we talked about.”

“Thank you, Effie.” Peeta hugs her, in parting.

This year is different. Mentors will not be seeing tributes to the hovercraft, only stylists. Presumably for the districts that only had two victors to begin with.

“Thank you, Y/N.” The boy finds her next and she squishes him to her properly.

“You’re welcome,” she sighs. Stay safe.

When it is Katniss’ turn to say goodbye, the girl on fire is struck by the realization that she cannot. Instead she buries her face in the woman’s shoulder.

“You can do this, Katniss.” Y/N passes a hand over her hair, “I believe in you.”

Katniss nods, “thank you.”

The five of them remain together for a while. Katniss and Peeta splinter off first, sending them all in different directions. Effie to her room, Y/N and Haymitch to opposite floors of the tribute center.

Y/N reaches the last level before ground. Cashmere is waiting, wringing her hands. “We almost did it,” stopped the games.

“This isn’t over yet,” Y/N reminds her. “I have something for you.”

Cashmere sighs, the rebel plan is a wild one and there’s no guarantee it will work in time.

Y/N turns over the gold bangle, “Katniss knows it’s mine. As long as she sees it, she’ll honor the alliance.”

“I’ll do what I can to keep her alive…the boy too.” Cashmere assures her.

“Keep you alive too, while you’re at it.” Please.

The blonde gives her a sad smile, “you know me.”

Part 14

#the hunger games fanfiction #thg haymitch #the hunger games #haymitch x reader #haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch abernathy fanfic #haymitch fanfic #haymitch abernathy x y/n #haymitch abernathy #haymitch x y/n #haymitch abernathy x you #haymitch abernathy x yn #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #johanna mason

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nebulablakemurphy · 1 year

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Moves & Countermoves (Part 12)

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

“We have one month, that is all. After that, two of us are back in the arena and we need to be ready.”

This meeting of district twelve’s victors is called to session a bit earlier than Haymitch would like. Not that any of them have been sleeping anyway.

“So you want us to do what, exactly?” Haymitch cocks his head to the side.

“I think we need to train, all of us. Everyday.” Peeta says, pointedly.

Haymitch huffs a laugh.

Y/N squeezes her husband’s shoulder, “I don’t think it’s a bad idea.”

“You’re gonna start deadlifting until this kid comes flying out of you?” Haymitch rears back in perturbed amusement.

Y/N shakes her head. “There are things I can still do. Brush up on my skills, learn a new one.”

“I could teach her to shoot,” Katniss offers.

Y/N shrugs, “she could teach me to shoot.”

“And you could teach us how to throw knifes.”

“We’ve all won the games.” Peeta reminds Haymitch in particular. “We can all learn from each other.”

————————————————————————

A couple weeks later they sit down with the kids, unsure how to broach the topic of tonight’s discussion. But the whispers around town are loud, better they hear it from their parents than someone else.

“Do you remember when we talked about the Hunger Games?” Y/N begins.

Everest nods, they talk about it in school too. “If you win, you become a victor.”

“Right,” Y/N leans across the table a bit more.“This year is a Quarter Quell.”

“That means a special games, like Daddy’s.” Arista adds.

“This year…” Haymitch hesitates, “it means that only victors can go.”

“They can’t do that,” Everest interjects.

“But you’re victors.” Arista says, a look of realization dawning over her features.

“Let’s talk through this.” Haymitch attempts to calm his children. “I know you both have a lot of questions.”

“No, they can’t do that. It’s not fair!” Everest’s little hands ball into fists.

“Honey-”

“Are you gonna die?” He cries, angry, hot tears cascading over his cheeks. “Katniss? Peeta? What about our friends? Cashmere, Gloss, Finnick, Mags? Who’s gonna take care of us if you’re both-”

Arista’s breathing picks up and she abandons her seat, crawling into her mother’s lap, though there is not much room. “They can’t make you play with a baby in your belly.”

“Shhh.” Y/N rocks her gently. “I don’t want you to be afraid.”

“So that’s it? We just give up?”

“No,” Y/N locks eyes with her son. “We’re not giving up, we’re gonna fight. Every victor, all of us, to try and stop the games.”

“Maybe you can stop it.” Arista nods, against Y/N’s chest.

“Maybe we can,” Y/N agrees, “but if we can’t, just incase, we need to talk about-”

“Is Aunt Madge gonna take us?”

“That’s the very last resort.” Haymitch admits, “we don’t know whose names they’re gonna call, even then, someone else could volunteer. Ideally, one of us will be able to-”

“So what you’re saying is that after this two weeks we might never see you again?”

“We’re going to do everything we can.” Haymitch promises.

“But it’s possible?” Everest is confused, outraged.

“Yes. It’s possible.”

The days run together, between training and spending as much time with their children as they can. On that last night, the children sleep between them, Y/N on one side and Haymitch on the other, clinging to this moment.

Cruelly, inevitably, the sun rises. Madge is at their door and Y/N comes to answer, while Haymitch and the children ready themselves.

Her sister says not a word, pulling Y/N in for a hug.

“Thank you for coming.” Y/N breathes, smoothing down the younger woman’s hair.

“You don’t need to thank me.” Madge wishes she could do more. “I’ll do my part here and wait for you to come home.”

“They need you, Madge. Now more than ever.”

Madge only holds her tighter. “I love you.”

“I love you so much.”

Peacekeepers are sent to collect them, marching the four victors to the justice building. Prim and Mrs. Everdeen trail closely behind Madge and the Abernathy children, one clasped in each hand.

“Welcome, welcome,” Effie begins her speech, “as we celebrate the seventy-fifth anniversary and third Quarter Quell of the Hunger Games.”

From his place on the stage, Haymitch can see his children. The boy, that squawked like a bird the first time he was placed in Haymitch’s arms, reminding him that the world might not be such a terrible place. The girl, that had him wrapped around her little finger before she could speak and gave him reason to dream. They look to him in fear now. Fear that they will lose their mother, fear that they will lose him.

“As always, ladies first.”

Y/N reaches for Katniss’ hand. There is nothing to hope for, no favorable outcome.

Effie draws the name, clearing her throat before announcing. “Y/N Abernathy.”

Madge lifts Arista into her arms, hushing the little girl as best she can, but she is distraught. Her hiccuping sobs causing the crowd to shift uncomfortably. Prim scoots in to rub her back.

Everest does not move. He does not blink and he does not cry. Forever ingraining this image of his mother in his mind.

Y/N can’t risk a glance at Haymitch. She knows how deeply the knife is buried in his chest, how the guilt will twist it, now and for years to come.

Katniss jerks her back almost forcefully, “no.”

“It’s ok,” Y/N whispers.

“I volunteer.”

“Katniss, please don’t do this.” Y/N pleads, but they are out of time, they are out of good choices.

“I volunteer as tribute.” Katniss announces, with more certainty the second time. Pulling her hand from Y/N’s to stand beside Effie, at the center of the stage.

“Wonderful.” Effie swallows down her sorrow, the show must go on, “and now for the male.”

Y/N’s head is light, spinning as if she might faint. Her lungs burn, perhaps she has stopped breathing.

“Haymitch Abernathy.”

“I volunteer as tribute,” Peeta says, without hesitation.

“I can’t let you do that,” Haymitch stops him, with a hand to his chest.

“You can’t stop me.” Peeta narrows his eyes.

“Peeta-”

“Let go.”

Haymitch has no choice but to obey. Sending their victors back as tributes, erasing all they’ve done.

“Very well,” Effie sniffs, hoping to regain some composure, “the tributes from district twelve; Katniss Everdeen…and Peeta Mellark.”

The entirety of their district raises three fingers in solidarity. They are not alone in this sadness; this defeat. Among the crowd, Y/N finds her mother, who has not been coherent enough to attend a reaping since her own.

She’s never blamed her mother, not for her absence or her addiction, nor the inability to move past Maysilee’s untimely death. Y/N cannot imagine losing her little sister, part of her would die too.

The idea that maybe she could talk to her before she leaves, maybe her mother has some divine words of wisdom or comfort-

Commander Thread takes Katniss by the arm, robbing her and Peeta of the chance to say goodbye. Y/N and Haymitch are carted away shortly after. Straight to the train station.

The ride is silent for a long while; eventually the four of them find each other, dutifully seated in the blue velveteen chairs. Drawn together like magnets, though there are no words.

Haymitch slumps down in his chair, extending his free hand to Y/N.

She takes it, the same way she always has, with a love and understanding that Haymitch is sure he will never deserve. But that is the problem with love; with life, really. So rarely does anyone get what they deserve.

Y/N continues preparing her presentation for the morning, detailing the participating victor’s strengths and weaknesses. Hesitating at each name she knows well.

Cashmere and Gloss, district one…

The train car doors open and Effie joins them, “before we begin, I’ve had a thought.”

“You don’t say.”

Effie gives Haymitch the side eye, pressing on in spite of his remark. “Katniss has her gold mockingjay pin, I have my hair.” The swirling golden updo. “I’m going to get the three of you something gold.”

Y/N finally looks up.

“And why is that?” Haymitch wonders, sipping at his teacup, containing a bit more than leaves.

“A token! Show them we are a team, and they can’t just-”

“Thank you,” Katniss says, taking Effie’s hand.

Peeta’s gaze softens. He’s accepted his fate, the only thing to do now is make sure Katniss is happy, keep her alive.

————————————————————————

No expense is spared for this very special Quarter Quell. A new training center and tribute living quarters are waiting to greet them in the Capitol.

“I want you to forget everything you think you know about the games.” Haymitch cuts through the silence. “Last year was child’s play, this year you’re dealing with all experienced killers.”

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

“It means you’re going to need some allies.”

“No.” Katniss shoots him down.

“Do it your own way, but we know these people and if you go it alone their first move will be to hunt you down.”

“Katniss, I know it’s not easy for you to trust them,” Y/N understands how difficult this all must be. “So you’re just gonna have to trust us.”

“Fine, show me.”

Y/N makes for her tablet, dimming the lights as her slideshow is put to the big screen.

“This should be good.” Peeta relaxes farther into the loveseat beside Katniss.

“Cashmere and Gloss. Brother and sister from district one, they won back to back games, Capitol favorites, lots of sponsors.”

“This is your first choice?” Katniss nearly chokes on her own saliva.

“Well,” Y/N swipes to the next screen, “they’re careers so they are extremely lethal. A few other positive attributes would be strength, agility, very intelligent. They offer protection, opportunities for better sponsors-”

“Despite some favoritism and general bias on her part,” Haymitch motions to Y/N, “this a strong choice.”

Katniss nods, she’ll consider it. For Y/N.

“From district three, Wiress and Beetee. Not fighters, but brilliant and…weird, real tech savvy.”

“We chose them because they offer a unique skill set-”

“Yes.” Katniss agrees, surprising even Peeta.

“O-ok,” Y/N moves to the next contender. “This is Finnick, from district four.”

“He won his games at fourteen, youngest ever. Don’t let that fool you, he’s incredibly humble.”

“You’re kidding.” Katniss scoffs.

“Yes, he’s a peacock, a total preener,” Haymitch does not mince words, “but he’s the Capitol darling, they love him here, lots of sponsors.”

“Very skilled in combat, especially in water.”

They carry on like this for some time, through Johanna in seven, Chaff and Seeder in eleven. Leaving Peeta and Katniss much to discuss as they retire for the night.

“You think she’ll come around?” Y/N dares to ask.

“You want me to be honest?” Haymitch tosses wayward hair from his eyes.

“Yes.”

“It’s gonna take a miracle.”

————————————————————————

Watching Haymitch’s games is a necessary evil, giving them some insight into the craftings of a Quarter Quell arena. The landscape is nothing short of paradise. Vibrant colors, beautiful creatures and a feast, complete with candy, weapons, anything a tribute could ask for; right at the cornucopia.

But the food is poison and the wildlife is deadly, in the games nothing is ever as it seems.

Though Haymitch does not fall prey to the gamemarker’s trap, many tributes do. He goes it alone for a while, ending up head to head with a pack of allies. He fights, better than Katniss imagines anyone could without experience; managing to take down two out of three opponents, before the knife is held to his throat.

The girl who spares him looks familiar, in a way that Katniss can’t place, sporting the same gold mockingjay pin she was given at the hob. “We’d live longer with two of us.”

“She looks like Madge.” Peeta voices this before Katniss can.

“She’s my mom’s little sister,” Y/N explains.

And then it all makes sense, or none of it does. Another layer to their mentor’s great ‘love story’ for Katniss and Peeta to attempt dissecting, in a bizarre form of pillow talk.

Haymitch has found the edge of the arena, Maysilee wants to turn back and he doesn’t. “We should say goodbye now. There’s only five of us, don’t want it to come down to the two of us.”

“Ok,” Haymitch lets her go.

Her screams follow not long after, the bubblegum pink birds begin tearing through her throat with razor sharp beaks.

Y/N remains glued to the screen, though the ending never changes and she cannot raise the dead.

In the end, Haymitch puts the force field to good use, leading the last career and her axe to the cliff side. Holding intestines inside his body with one hand, he waits for the weapon to ricochet; burying its blade in her skull.

“That was smart.” Katniss purses her lips.

“Too smart,” Haymitch bites out in warning, “do not attempt it. That move got my family killed.” He leaves without a word.

Y/N doesn’t go after him. Sometimes Haymitch needs to be alone and if she chases him, he won’t run. He’s too good a man and he loves her too much. He would stay, even as every cell in his body yearns to go.

————————————————————————

Haymitch returns, after a bottle or two and a very interesting talk with Plutarch. There is a plan, one to extract the victors from the arena, all they have to do is stay alive until then. He searches the tribute living quarters for Y/N, finding her already asleep in their bed.

He is determined not to wake her, flipping off the forgotten light overhead and changing out of his suit.

She stirs as he draws back the covers. “Haymitch?”

“Shh,” he climbs in behind Y/N to cradle her belly, “sleep.”

“Is everything ok?” She reaches back, stroking his hair.

“Everything is fine.” He finds her hand, kissing at her wrist and fingers, before gently lying it back on the bed.

Y/N nuzzles farther against him, “ok.”

“You know I’m always coming back, right? No matter what.” Their child shifts under his palm.

“I know,” she nods.

“If anything ever happened to you-”

“Haymitch, you don’t need to say it.”

Yes I do. “When I lost my family, I kept going. Out of spite, or insanity, whatever it was that kept me going, I did it. But if you were gone…if our kids were gone; I couldn’t. I need you safe. I need you.”

“You have me.” Y/N breathes, “right here. Just you and me.”

Part 13

#thg haymitch #haymitch abernathy x y/n #haymitch x reader #haymitch x y/n #haymitch abernathy x you #haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch abernathy fanfic #haymitch abernathy #haymitch fanfic #haymitch abernathy x yn #katniss everdeen #the hunger games #peeta mellark #moves & countermoves

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nebulablakemurphy · 11 months

Text

Moves & Countermoves (Part 18)

The room is silent, save for the children’s breathing and their own. Haymitch knows his wife is awake, as she toys softly with his fingers, draped over her waist.

It’s been two days since the propo, from eight, aired in the districts. There’s been riots in several of them.

“Katniss wants to go back to twelve.” Y/N tells him. “Show Peeta what Snow did to it.”

Haymitch sighs, “I figured.”

“After his last interview with Caesar…” she breaks off, “they’re gonna kill him, Haymitch. They’re gonna starve him, torture him to death.”

“We don’t know that.”

“You saw him, it’s only been a few weeks.”

Haymitch settles a hand over her heart, soothing the ache. “Beetee’s working on getting into the Capitol’s communications system. Once he’s in, they’ll play one of your propos and people will be storming the mansion.”

“He can’t get past his own design.” Y/N shakes her head.

“He will,” Haymitch whispers, “give it time.”

“I don’t know what to do,” she mumbles. “I can’t just keep sitting here while he’s suffering.”

“I wish I had some divine wisdom to give you.” Haymitch tells her. “I can make something up. Or I can be honest; say that I’m here and I won’t leave. I will support whatever you decide and advise you as best I can. But right now there’s nothing else you can do.”

It is honest and raw, a truthfulness he’s so often shielded her from. It feels different. It feels good. “Thank you, for being honest.”

“From here on out, that’s how it’ll be.”

The words land like blows to her gut. “You still love me though?”

“I’ll always love you.” Haymitch says, without hesitation. “You didn’t always make it easy, but never once did I stop loving you. You’re it for me.”

She wriggles farther against him, melting into his arms with a smile. “I love you forever, Haymitch.”

“Mommy,” Arista’s little voice sounds, from the corner. “You’re talking in your sleep again.”

“No, baby. I’m talking to Daddy.”

“Can I talk too?” Arista perks up.

Haymitch chuckles, “come on. But you have to be quiet, your brother and sister are sleeping.”

Eventually sleep claims them all.

Y/N wakes in a tangle of arms and legs. Both of their older children have joined them.

Daisy begins to fuss, she needs to be changed and she’s hungry. So Y/N pries herself away, tending the baby and settling against the pillows of Everest’s empty bed to nurse her. She wails when Y/N pauses, mid feeding, to switch her to the opposite breast.

“I know,” Y/N cooes, “life’s hard, huh?”

Daisy pops open an eye to glare at her, as if she understands. Then latches on with a content sigh and stops kicking her little legs.

Y/N strokes a finger over the infant’s cheek. Unbidden tears well up in her eyes, swiped away before they fall. It is a blessing and a curse, to have pieces of your heart live outside your body.

When it comes time for breakfast, the five of them go together. They sit and try to enjoy this moment, enjoy their time together. Y/N and Haymitch walk Everest and Arista to school, in the lower levels.

The children introduce their parents to the few friends they’ve made. Only six other children reside here in thirteen, not including their own, or Prim. She’s working down in the hospital these days. Childhood has fleeted her.

Orders come, it’s time for Y/N to load up with Katniss and the others on the hovercraft. Haymitch walks her to the loading dock, Daisy sleeping in the wrap, against his chest.

“Soldier Abernathy,” Boggs greets her. “Glad you could join us.” He wasn’t thrilled with her performance in district eight. Following the mockingjay into harm’s way, without a second thought. Though she acted erratically, he sees now, there is no safer place for Katniss than by her side.

“Boggs,” she nods, in return. Then gives her husband a proper goodbye.

Haymitch smiles into the kiss. It is not hungry or desperate, but sweet, calming even.

“I’ll see you for dinner.” She waves as they separate.

“I’ll see you.”

————————————————————————

They break for lunch, after filming a propo in twelve. It’s mostly Gale, recounting what happened after Y/N’s warning was received.

Everything is gone, save for bones and rubble of what they once called home. The houses in Victor’s Village still stand, preserved from the attack. Y/N passes through her front door.

She ventures to Arista’s closet, opening one of the tubs at the bottom, full of clothing that no longer fits. The ones they saved, just in case. A white footed onesie that Everest and Arista wore as infants should be there. Eventually she gives up looking, it must’ve been moved. Perhaps something Haymitch dug out, in preparation and forgot to mention.

Y/N closes the door to Arista’s room, catching a whiff of something sweet, floral, from down the hallway. The room they’d hardly touched, meant for Daisy. She pushes the door open, the crib is assembled, the bedding in place, surrounded by a bed of crisp, white, roses. Lying against the mattress is the missing outfit.

Forever tainted by this memory. She takes it anyway, holding the soft fabric to her chest. It no longer smells of her sweet babies, or the soap she used to clean the onesie once they outgrew it.

Stuffing it into her bag to wash, Y/N takes their pictures, the baby books, as much as she can carry. She may never be back here, their memories are too important to lose.

When she meets Katniss and the others, down at the quarry, she’s not in the mood for small talk. Y/N takes a seat on the rocks, and chokes down her rations.

“What’s that?” Cressida nods toward the fabric peeking out of Y/N’s bag.

“Oh, it’s just um,” Y/N tucks it back in, “nothing.”

The director smiles. “Can I see?”

Y/N takes a deep breath, “sure.” She pulls the garment free, holding it up for inspection. “I’ve had it since my son was born, my oldest daughter wore it too, so I figured-”

“Did you make it?”

“No.” Y/N lowers her gaze, “it was someone else.”

“Where are they now?” Cressida wonders.

“I don’t know,” Y/N lifts a shoulder. “I don’t know if they’re even alive, or…” dead. “Either way I don’t think we’ll see each other again.”

Cressida nods, “it smells like the Capitol.”

“Reeks,” Y/N agrees, “needs to be washed.”

————————————————————————

“Are you, are you, coming to the tree? Wear a necklace of hope, side by side with me.”

“That line used to be necklace of rope,” Plutarch informs the viewing room, as the newest propo of Katniss singing in district twelve, plays over the large screen. “I had it changed to necklace of hope.”

“Ah,” Haymitch raises his cup to the gamemaker. It’s full of nothing but water, still it feels familiar to have there. “You are a true wordsmith.”

“It’s a little on the nose, but of course, so is war.” Plutarch smiles.

“Every district is seeing this?” President Coin asks.

Gale’s message is strong, redeeming on Y/N’s behalf. It’s enough to win over the districts, without breaking whatever ties she holds with citizens of the Capitol.

“Yes, but not the Capitol.” Beetee frowns, “we’ll get there.”

Y/N nods. There was no time between supper with the kids and being called to this meeting in command.

Haymitch doesn’t know about the crib or the outfit, but he picked up the scent of roses from her bag. He knows something is off.

They are dismissed after a time. Again they wait, walking hand in hand to their living quarters. Haymitch moves for the touchpad to open the doors.

“Wait,” Y/N stops him. “There’s something I need to tell you…about the house. It’s still there.”

“I figured.” She wouldn’t have come back with things from inside if it was burnt to ash.

“Snow had the crib moved into Daisy’s room. He took the onesie Vanity made out of Arista’s closet and left it there.”

“That’s why it smells like that?”

“Yeah, the nursery was full of roses.”

“He doesn’t know,” Haymitch realizes.

“Know what?”

“If he knew her name was Daisy, he would’ve left daisies instead. He would want us to know that he knows. He’s fishing for information he doesn’t have.” Haymitch knows this game.

“So what do we do?” Y/N asks, turning worried eyes to her husband.

“We’re getting through to the districts, Y/N. We just have to wait him out.”

————————————————————————

Peeta’s final interview with Caesar does not air in the mess hall, like the others. Only higher ups in the command center are granted access. Y/N leaves the children with Madge. Rushing to meet Haymitch once the message reaches her.

The boy she once knew is broken, hollow. His eyes haunted by the horrors inflicted upon him. His voice trembles over each word. Oh, Peeta.

“Are you, are you, coming to the tree? Where they strung up a man, they say who murdered three.”

The image of Katniss cuts through his own.

“Katniss?” Peeta stammers, searching for her.

“He sees it.” Coin rejoices, “he sees our propo.”

“Katniss, are you there?”

Y/N moves closer to Haymitch, searching for his hand and finds it inching toward hers.

“Peeta.” Katniss whispers, a hand held to her belly as she crowds the screen. Desperate to offer a comfort she cannot give. I’m here.

“Peeta, please continue.” Caesar redirects him. “You were telling us about these savage attacks.”

Peeta nods, his thoughts clouded. Perhaps he had been seeing things, just imagining Katniss; the sound of her voice. “The attack on the dam was a callous and inhuman act of destruction.”

“The dead man called out…for his love to flee.”

Peeta sees her again, sitting up at the edge of his chair. He knows what he has to do. Even if they kill him for it. “Think about it. How will this end? What will be left? No one can survive this. No one is safe now. Not here in the Capitol, not in any of the districts.” He pauses, mustering the courage. “They’re coming, Katniss. They’re gonna kill everyone. And in district thirteen you’ll be dead by morning-”

The blow of Snow’s cane sends blood spattering across the screen. His features twisted in anger.

“That was a warning,” Haymitch says. President Coin is dense, he needs to be sure she understands.

Y/N rushes to Katniss, turning her away.

“They’re gonna kill him.” Katniss cries. “We have to get him out.”

“Shh,” Y/N hushes her. “We’re gonna get him.” She believes what she’s saying, she has to.

“Can you see anything?” Coin asks the patrol operator.

“Nothing on Doppler.”

“He was in the mansion, he could’ve overheard something.” The president reasons.

“Possibly,” Plutarch agrees.

“He wouldn’t just make it up,” Y/N snaps.

Alma mulls it over for a moment, “it’s time for an air raid drill.”

The alarms sound, immediately. “This is a code red alert, please remain calm and follow evacuation protocol. Proceed in an orderly fashion to the nearest stairwell and descend to level forty. Blast doors will be sealed in six minutes.”

Y/N is still holding Katniss as Haymitch closes the distance between them. “Take Katniss and I’ll meet you there.”

“Haymitch, no.” Y/N shakes her head. “I wanna come with you.”

Haymitch turns to Katniss, “Prim and your mom are down at the hospital, right?”

Katniss nods, tears welled up in her eyes and she cannot speak.

“Good, they’ll be waiting for you.” One less thing to worry about.

“Haymitch,” Y/N says again.

“Getting to Madge and the kids will take longer with three of us and you know it.” He’ll have to fight his way up through a crowd of people rushing down. “I need you to trust me.”

“I-” she wants to argue, but there’s no time. She has to trust him. “Ok.”

‘If you love something, you set it free or some bullshit like that.’

The furrow of his brow softens. The words come easier now, in the panic and the shouting; at the thought of losing her. “I love you.”

“I love you.” Y/N and Katniss go left, hands clasped together.

Haymitch turns right; and they lose each other in a sea of strangers.

Part 19

#moves & countermoves #haymitch abernathy fanfic #haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch abernathy #haymitch abernathy x y/n #haymitch x reader #haymitch abernathy x you #haymitch fanfic #haymitch x y/n #haymitch abernathy x yn #thg haymitch #the hunger games #hunger games fanfiction #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark

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nebulablakemurphy · 1 year

Text

Moves & Countermoves (Part 11)

Eight weeks.

It’s been eight weeks since the tour. Y/N grows more anxious with each passing day, waking from terrible nightmares alone. She finds Haymitch sitting on the couch, with a bottle in hand.

“You need to sleep,” he says after a long moment.

“I can’t,” she argues.

“Come here.” Haymitch waits until she is settled, with her head in his lap, before throwing the blanket over her. “Close your eyes.”

She nuzzles against his thigh, utterly exhausted but unwilling to return to the horror of her dreams.

In truth, that’s why he’s forsaken the warmth of their bed for the couch. They’re coming up on a Quarter Quell…and anything can happen in a Quarter Quell. He knows that better than anyone, after being reaped with double the tributes.

He peeks down. Her eyes are closed; breathing too fast, her muscles rigid. “You’re safe.” Haymitch murmurs, “it’s just you and me.” These whispers continue until she snores lightly.

He wakes with a hand still twined in hers and a kink in his neck, from sleeping upright.

Y/N doesn’t stir as he stretches and yawns to the patter of little feet on the second floor. Haymitch stumbles into the kitchen, flipping on the burner to start breakfast.

“Honk.”

He turns with the spatula in hand. Surely he is dreaming, or perhaps the years have slowly driven him insane. But he knows for certain that damn goose is not in his house, again. And if it were, it sure as hell wouldn’t have the audacity to honk at him.

“Get,” Haymitch warns, shooing the beast out through the back door. It wails at him all the while, rousing Y/N.

She rubs her eyes, trying to make sense of the scene. “Louie?”

“Honk.”

“Don’t say his name.” Haymitch grunts, closing the door harshly behind the animal.

Y/N laughs, “how’d he get in here?”

“I had the sliding door open for some fresh air.”

“Smells good,” she takes another whiff.

“I made breakfast.”

“Thank you,” she forces herself from the cushions. Brushing past her husband toward the bathroom.

Haymitch is in a better mood when she returns. Everest and Arista are seated at the island, scarfing down pancakes as Haymitch fills them in on the goose fiasco.

“I turn around and he’s standing there.” Haymitch points to the exact spot.

Arista gasps, resorting to his full name, “Louis.”

“Had to chase him out with the spatula.”

Everest chuckles, around a forkful of eggs.

“You didn’t hit him, right Daddy?” Arista looks up with those big eyes, the same color as Y/N’s.

“No,” Haymitch sighs, “I didn’t hit him.”

Y/N comes to collect her plate, standing beside Haymitch, opposite the kids.

“You can sit down.” He smirks, watching her take the first bite.

“I’m ok,” she bumps his hip with her own. They are fuller now, at seven months pregnant. “I’ll just hang out here with you.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” Stay with me forever.

“Hey mom,” Everest calls her attention.

“Hmm?”

“Do you think we can plant some of the seeds Peeta gave me?”

The geese have done a number on their garden.

“Yeah, we can do that.” Y/N agrees, wanting to soak up as much time with them as she can before the baby.

They haven’t talked much about names. Even the crib resides in one of the spare rooms, untouched, unprepared.

————————————————————————

“Oh, Katniss.” Octavia, of her prep team, has tears in her eyes at the sight. “You look beautiful.”

The Capitol has chosen this dress; the dress. The one she’ll be married in, though it needs quite a bit of alteration.

“Is that my dress?” Y/N chokes out. She thought it might be strung up in a museum somewhere, immortalized as one of Snow’s trophies, or sold to the highest bidder. She thought she’d never see it again; not now. Not on Katniss.

Katniss opens her mouth to speak. Though it isn’t her choice, she feels sick.

“She can’t wear this dress.”

“It’s what the people chose, dear. Because you’re a family,” Flavius explains. “Don’t you want Katniss to feel the way you did on your special day? We can always alter it again to fit your daughter, when the time comes.”

“No,” Y/N breathes, this can’t be happening, “no, where’s Cinna?”

“I’m here.” He emerges from the hall, scraps of ivory fabric draped over one shoulder.

“I need to talk to you, please.” Y/N is visibly shaking as Cinna follows her to the sitting room, closing the glass door so Katniss has no chance of overhearing. But she can still see them.

Her mentor’s frantic explanation, Cinna’s steadying hand at her shoulder as he listens. Gaze changing quickly from sadness to anger, mirroring Y/N’s. Cinna nods, one final time before Y/N squeezes his upper arm in parting.

“We’re going to make some changes.” The stylist says upon his return.

“Y/N,” Katniss calls from the pedestal, unable to go after her. “Wait.”

“I’ll be back.”

“I’m sorry.” Katniss apologies, for whatever she’s done.

“No, don’t be. It’s-” Y/N breaks off, “nothing. I just need to see Haymitch.” She rushes out before Katniss can get a word in.

Cinna begins sketching out a few new additions, taking away the old, making it new.

“Is there something wrong with this dress?” She asks, itching to remove it.

Cinna shakes his head, even he has trouble looking at her in it now that he knows. “Nothing we can’t fix.”

Katniss recounts the events to Peeta later that night, he doesn’t fully understand either.

“It’s like she was afraid of the dress…or what would happen to me while I was in it.” Katniss looks down at her hands. “Maybe something happened to her.”

Peeta swallows hard, the more they learn about the Capitol, the more reason he has to believe… “I think a lot of things happened to her.”

————————————————————————

Commander Thread arrives within the week. Tearing through the hob, taking away what little they have and screwing down a big metal whipping post in the square.

The chaos is not missed by the inhabitants of victor’s village, Katniss least of all. Pushing her way through the crowd to find the source of the tortured screams echoing out into the streets.

Interrupting Gale’s punishment earns her a black eye, with a gash underneath and one lash to the outside of her thigh, on the eve of the big wedding. When she stands again, she is faced with the barrel of Thread’s gun.

The first person to rise to her aid is the last person who should be standing between Katniss and a bullet. Shoving Katniss behind her with one arm, the other held protective over her growing child. Explaining who she is and talking him down. Thread recognizes her, Katniss too after a moment; if he kills them it will be his head on the chopping block.

Haymitch is fuming when he finds them there. Furious with both Y/N and Katniss for putting themselves in harm’s way. Peeta arrives on scene, another person for Haymitch to shove behind him without a second thought.

“You sure Snow wants four dead victors? Because that’s what we’re looking at here.” Haymitch reasons, holding both hands in the air. “It’s bad enough that you marked up Katniss’ face on the eve of the big wedding. My wife is carrying the most eagerly anticipated baby in Panem, all this stress isn’t good. Let it go…and we will too.”

“Fine,” the commander licks his lips, “but next time it’s the firing squad.”

“Excellent idea.”

The flogging is broadcast to the nation on a five second delay, cutting out just after Katniss jumps in.

No one sees past that point except the president. Again, the victors of district twelve have proven themselves to be a united front. A family of agitators beyond reason, who consider themselves above the law. Snow knows exactly what he must do and Plutarch already has a plan.

“It’s what we gamemakers like to call a wrinkle.”

————————————————————————

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is the seventy-fifth year of the Hunger Games.”

Everest and Arista are off playing with Madge and Y/N’s parents, leaving the eldest victors of district twelve to sit silently in front of the projector.

“It was written in the charter of the games, that every twenty-five years there would be a Quarter Quell, to keep fresh for each new generation the memory of those who died in the uprising against the Capitol. Each Quarter Quell is marked by games of a special significance.”

Y/N skates her thumb over Haymitch’s knuckles hoping to comfort him.

“On this the seventy-fifth anniversary of our defeat of the rebellion, we celebrate the third Quarter Quell.” Snow pulls the card free from its envelope. “As a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female tributes are to be reaped from the existing pool of victors in each district.”

“What?” Y/N leans forward, surely she misunderstood.

Haymitch grips his glass with enough force to shatter it, broken shards falling to the floor. He is bleeding, but he can’t feel it. The anger, the fear, the rage swallows the initial bite of pain.

“The victors will present themselves on reaping day; regardless of age, situation, or state of health.”

Y/N examines his wounds, scarlet pooling across his palm and fingers.

“Leave it, angel.” Haymitch warns, needing it to tether him to reality. Proof that this is more than a nightmare.

“I need to check on Peeta and Katniss.” Y/N remembers, pushing past the clouded lens of her own mind. “Let me take care of you before I go.”

“I need you to leave it.” He says a second time.

“Ok- I,” there are no words. Not as she stands, or presses her lips to the crown of his head and leaves. Instead she focuses on her steps, one foot in front of the other.

Haymitch stays there, unmoving, allowing his blood to stain the pristine fabric of the couch’s armrest. The front door creaks open, enough to startle him to action, he doesn’t want his children to see. Instead he tosses the throw blanket over the evidence.

“Where’s Y/N?” Katniss demands, identifying herself as the intruder.

“Ah, it’s just you.” Haymitch whips the fabric off, using it to gather the broken glass. “Take a seat.”

“We have to save them.”

“Finally done the math, have you?” Haymitch muses.

Promises are easier to make than keep. Asking for Peeta and Y/N to live is essentially asking each other to die. That’s not something that Haymitch can bring himself to do. But he does agree to volunteer for Peeta; with a sneaking suspicion that Katniss will do the same when it comes down to it.

Y/N is good, kind and selfless. Katniss has known it from the day they trained together, on the mat of the tribute center, what feels like a lifetime ago. The same way Peeta is good, willing to stand by her, comfort and protect her, at his own expense.

“Haymitch!” The sound of it is awful, wretched from Y/N’s throat.

“What’s the matter?” Haymitch stands immediately, as does Katniss, rushing toward the entryway.

“I went to check on Peeta,” Y/N flies into his arms, closed eyes shining with tears.

“You’re ok,” Haymitch murmurs, smoothing down her hair.

“But I couldn’t find,” Y/N opens her eyes to find the very person she’s been losing her mind over. “Katniss.”

Haymitch releases her. Relieved that the cause of her anguish is nothing more than a misunderstanding.

“Katniss.”

Katniss embraces her, holding fast, like it might save her, like it might change anything. In Katniss’ mind there was always some understanding, that Peeta is to Y/N as she is to Haymitch.

They fit together crudely, like an ill crafted puzzle. Even still, Katniss can no longer deny that Y/N loves her just as fiercely. No different than her own child. “Sorry I scared you. I just had to get out of there.” My mom’s screams…Prim’s questions.

“It’s ok,” Y/N pulls back to look at her. Stroking her thumbs over the blotchy apples of her victor’s cheeks. “We don’t know who they’re gonna pick.”

Katniss nods, allowing Y/N to fuss about her. Needing it just as badly, though she would never ask.

“But we know all of the victors and depending upon the reaping, I have some ideas for potential strategies and alliances-”

“You know it’s me.” Katniss says finally, voice breaking over the last word. “If the only choice is you or me in that arena, I’m the one Snow wants dead.”

“We don’t know that, sweetheart.” Haymitch scrubs his unmarred hand over his face.

“And he’d prefer you dead over Peeta.” Katniss points out, not in the mood to sugarcoat.

“You’re right,” Haymitch admits. “We know the bowls are rigged, but we don’t know how. If they want entertainment and shock value, it’s gonna be us together.” He flicks a finger between himself and Y/N. “Or you and Peeta together. We’re all star crossed lovers now and I promise you, we won’t be the only ones. It’ll be lovers, siblings, friends. If Snow’s doing it to punish us.” Now the finger is pointed at Katniss. “He’s sending in Y/N and Peeta. If it’s simply to eliminate their problems, that’d be you and me, kid. And we won’t have any idea what their angle is until reaping day.”

Part 12

#haymitch x reader #haymitch abernathy x you #haymitch fanfic #haymitch x y/n #haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch abernathy x y/n #haymitch abernathy x yn #haymitch abernathy fanfic #haymitch abernathy #thg haymitch #the hunger games #the hunger games fanfiction #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark

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nebulablakemurphy · 1 year

Text

Twenty Questions (Part 1)

Summary: For Y/N’s 20th birthday Haymitch gifts her 20 questions, that he has to answer honestly, no matter what. Mentions of sex/forced pregnancy. Set in the Moves & Countermoves universe.

Haymitch Abernathy x Fem!Reader

Haymitch finds Y/N at the dining room table, slapping down her present beside her half eaten lunch. “Happy birthday.”

“Oh.” Y/N reaches for the envelope, warily. More instructions from President Snow?

“It’s from me.” Haymitch huffs, pouring himself a glass of gin.

From him. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Well you got me something so,” he raises his cup to her.

“Thank you, Haymitch.” He turned thirty a couple months ago and Y/N gifted her husband a rather large assortment of alcohol. Y/N opens the gift, a piece of paper with the words ‘20 questions.’

“Since you’re so interested in yours truly, this is an open invitation to ask me anything you want. Twenty times, I’ll answer honestly.” By this time next year we’ll be neck deep in diapers, or dead.

Y/N smiles, softly. “First question, why are you doing this?”

“Because I-” love you. I love you and there’s no fucking way around it. “If you’re gonna have my baby, you deserve to know me.”

“I think I know you.”

Haymitch sinks back a bit more in his chair. “You know me better than most people would ever want to, I’ll give you that.”

“Do you want to have a baby with me?”

There it is, straight for the jugular. “That’s not a question, that’s a trap.”

“Tell me why,” Y/N laughs.

“If I say no, it will upset you. If I say yes, it will upset you. I can’t win.”

“It’s not about winning, it’s about how you feel.”

“I feel like,” he takes a moment to look at her, really look at her. “If I was just some guy and you were just some girl, who hadn’t managed to piss off Snow to the point of no return. We wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“That is not an answer.”

“That’s how I would want to have a baby with you, or anybody for that matter.” Keep your emotions out of it. “If we were- It wouldn’t be dangerous for the poor kid getting brought into all this. We wouldn’t be rushed by orders to do this now, we would have time. And you could choose me…or hell, you could not choose me. Either way it would be your choice.”

“You think I wouldn’t choose you?”

Haymitch chuckles, bitterly. “Nobody in their right mind would choose me.”

“I might’ve.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Why?”

“You’re burning through these questions pretty quick, angel.” Haymitch warns, tapping at his tumbler.

“If I run out, I’ll just have to torture the answers out of you.”

“You wouldn’t hurt me.” Haymitch calls her bluff. “Not on purpose.”

“Have I hurt you, Haymitch?”

Fuck. “Hurting you hurts me.”

“You’ve never hurt me.”

“Not on purpose.” He agrees, “but you’ve been hurt by things we had to do.”

“That’s not the same.” Y/N shakes her head.

“It is, whether you’re ready to admit that to yourself or not-”

“Is that why you threw up the first time?”

The first time, that terrible night with those damn cameras. “I threw up because of how you looked at me.”

“How did I look at you?”

“Like you wanted me to help you and I couldn’t.”

“I’d never been that close to anyone, ever. It was intimidating, but I trusted you.”

“I tried to make it good for you.”

“You did!” Y/N raises her brows, “you made me cum like four times.”

Haymitch grins, “next question.”

“What’s the best sex you’ve ever had?”

“Best I’ve ever had…”

“Doesn’t have to be with me.” Y/N says, holding up both hands.

“No, it was you.” He scoffs, downing his drink and pouring another.

“Which time?”

“You’re gonna kill me for saying it.”

“No, please, Haymitch,” she pouts. “Tell me.”

Being ‘just friends for now’ didn’t stop them from kissing whenever they wanted, sleeping in the same bed, or screwing every chance they had. “My birthday.”

“Oh,” Y/N purses her lips. She’d taken one of those stupid pills from the Capitol and rode him to kingdom come. “What did you like about it?”

“That you wanted me.”

“I do want you.”

“You have me.” Dammit, get a hold of yourself.

“If I have you, then you have me.” I’m yours…if you want.

Haymitch sighs, “what number are we on?”

“Like four or five.”

“Four or five?” She’s trying to pull a fast one on him. “Gotta be at least ten.”

“No, they don’t all count. We were just talking!”

“Fine, we’ll only count five. But from here on, they all count.”

“Deal.” Y/N agrees, she can still cover a lot of ground. “What is your worst fear?”

“There’s a few, like running out of liquor.”

“Of course,” she nods.

“But the worst would be losing someone I care about.” My worst fear is losing you.

“Yeah.” Y/N swallows hard, “me too.” He has spared her from losing her family, the way he did, giving up pieces of himself to do it. “Do you ever regret what you did to help me?”

“No.” No matter what happens, he doesn’t want her to end up like him. All alone…until now.

“Next one’s hard.”

“Hard to ask or answer?”

“Both.”

Haymitch narrows his eyes, “shoot.”

“How do you feel about me?” She aims to kill.

“I feel like you know.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“You’re my friend. Best one I’ve got for miles. You are hands down the most stubborn person I have ever met and I like that about you.” Haymitch admits.

“What is your least favorite thing about me?”

That you ripped my heart open and shoved yourself inside. “You never stay on your side of the bed.”

Part 2

#thg haymitch #haymitch x reader #haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch abernathy #haymitch abernathy x you #haymitch abernathy fanfic #haymitch abernathy x y/n #haymitch fanfic #haymitch abernathy x yn #haymitch x y/n

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your-averagewriter · 4 months

Note

hi! Would mind writing a part two to your young!Haymitch x reader? Maybe with both of them winning and just developing a relationship through the aftermath.

Summary: Haymitch and (y/n) struggle to adjust after getting out of the Games together but find comfort in each other.

Word count: 1.7K

Warnings: Kissing, swearing, mention of gore (a little at the start, not really though).

“Are you ready to go home?” Haymitch asks, snapping me out of my frozen state, staring out of the window of the train.

I turn to look at him, seeing the empty train cart, unable to stop seeing the two other tributes from our district, they came with us and now we’re leaving without them. Their bodies lie on the floor and are draped across the table, forcing me to see their mutilated states.

“I’m gonna throw up.” I say after a second, standing up and hurrying to the bathroom on the train cart, my hand covering my mouth.

“(y/n)?” I hear before I fall to my knees in front of the toilet, throwing up into the bowl, gripping the sides to stabilise myself. Haymitch pulls my hair out of the way and rests his other hand on my shoulder. “What’s wrong?” He asks during a break in throwing up.

I lean back, sitting on the back of my feet as I look back to face Haymitch, wiping my face with one of the towels provided.

“I’m just not feeling very well.” I say, standing up slowly and walking back out to the main section of the train cart once I’m sure I’m done throwing up.

“Come on, (y/n), what’s wrong? We both know that’s not it.” He says as we sit down by the window again, I turn to look out the window, staring at the scenery despite the train not moving yet.

“They’re not here.” I say quietly.

“Who’s not here? Do you want me to get the escort lady or shitty mentor guy?” He raises an eyebrow, clearly confused.

“The other two tributes from 12.” I say. “They came but they’re not leaving. They won’t ever leave.” I mumble, resting my head on my hand, wiping away a tear by my eye.

“Don’t think about them.” He says gruffly and I’m slightly appalled by his uncaring statement towards dead children.

“Don’t think about them? Are you telling me you don’t feel bad about any of it, sad, guilty, anything?” I ask, my voice is louder as I get more upset.

“No, I don’t.” He pauses as I stare at him confused and disappointed. “Because if it didn’t happen then you wouldn’t be here and neither would I.”

His response shocks me. “What?” I ask quietly.

“You’re alive, I’m alive, that’s all I care about at the moment and so should you.” He says more softly, opening his arms and offering me a much needed hug.

Shuffling towards him, I wrap my arms around him, resting my head on his chest.

“Let’s just think about getting home first and all the fancy food we can eat on this train.” I chuckle at the end of his sentence and it’s clear he’s trying to distract me. He places a kiss to the top of my head before standing up, taking my hand and leading me after him.

“Come on, let’s cost them some money.” I chuckle again, standing up with him and wiping a final tear from my cheek as we walk to the food carts.

Walking into the next heart lays a table full of fancy food and colourful drinks.

“Oh my god they have whipped cream.” I smile as I quickly sit at the table, Haymitch not far behind, chuckling at my newfound excitement. “I’ve only had whipped cream like…” I pause thinking. “Once.” I reach for one of the deserts covered in whipped cream, placing it in front of me and swiping some of the cream with my finger, lifting it to my mouth and tentatively tasting it. “You need to try it.” I smile, reaching for one of the spoons and scooping a bit and feeding it to Haymitch.

“That is good.” He says smirking.

I turn back to the table, seeing a bowl of strawberries and liquid chocolate to dip them in whilst Haymich grabs his own food.

Dipping a strawberry in chocolate, I taste the delicious combination, making a bit of a mess with the chocolate but enjoying it nonetheless.

“You’ve made it a bit of a mess with that chocolate, it’s all over your lips.” He says and quickly moves towards me pressing his lips against mine, cleaning the chocolate with a satisfied hum. “Delicious.” He pulls back, smirking at my flustered state.

“You caught me off guard, don’t look too proud.” I huff, biting into another strawberry.

-----------

The train pulls up to the station and I’m instantly jumping up from my chair to get to the door, not expecting the crowd that appears in front of me when the door opens.

“Mum?” I ask quietly, my voice being drowned out as I search over the crowd, looking for her.

Haymitch appears behind me after a moment and is blinded by the bright light of the sun and deafened by the sounds of the crowds.

“Fucking hell.” He groans as I look over the crowd, still looking until I see her waving, kept back by the crowd a little while away.

“Mum? Mum!” I shout as I disappear into the crowd, avoiding the questions as I dart past people and into my mum’s open arms. Upon closer inspection I can see the tears that stain her cheeks and the weight she’s lost whilst I was gone, I imagine she can feel the same has happened to me.

After reuniting with my mother, she heads home to pack herself, ready for us to move into Victors’ Village. Some of the crowds have dissipated so I look around for Haymitch, wondering where he went, knowing he’s not the biggest fan of crowds.

“Haymitch?” I cup my hands around my mouth calling his name whilst looking around. “Haymitch?” I wander around before seeing him leaning back against a tree, eating an apple from the train. “Haymitch.” I smile, walking over to him. “You okay?” I ask softly, sitting next to him and resting my head on his shoulder. “I know you don’t like the crowds.”

“What’s there to like? No one’s even waiting for me.” He grunts out.

“Your dad didn’t come?” I ask gently, knowing his dad is a sore subject as he’s always been a little absent in Haymitch’s life. Actually, him not turning up to meet Haymitch is quite in character for him but Haymitch just shakes his head. “I’m sorry.” I say quietly.

“‘S not your fault.” He mumbles fiddling with a small blade from the train, cutting off bits of an apple.

“They gave me a house, a real fancy one in the village down there.” I point. “You’ve got one too, we can move in when we want.” I try to lighten the mood. “Do you wanna check it out?” I offer with a small smile, trying to distract him a little.

“Fancy houses? Like rewards?” I shrug.

“I guess so.” He chuckles darkly.

“That sounds about right from the President.” I nod and we both stand up, walking to the village.

Feeling the cold nipping at my skin I walk close beside Haymitch, reaching for his hand in an attempt to warm myself up.

“There’s like ten houses here, which ones do we get?” He asks, looking around.

“These closest ones have name plaques on them.” I say, leading him to one of the houses and seeing my name engraved on a gold plaque. “I guess this is mine.” I quirk a small smile, excited as the door clicks open and we walk in.

It’s silent except the sound of creaking floorboards under our feet as we explore the house, hand in hand still.

“This house is massive.” I say in awe as we walk around, inspecting the rooms. “There’s like a million rooms.” I chuckle excitedly as he follows me around, entertaining my exploration with a small smile. “Do you think your house is built differently?”

“I don’t know, love but I’m sure you’re gonna take me to look in a minute.” I nod, a telling smile on my face as we both know it’s true.

“You know,” I pause. “You could stay with us.” I say, turning to face him as we walk down the stairs.

He quirks an eyebrow, looking slightly confused.

“If you didn’t want to stay with your dad, I mean there’s plenty of space in this house, so many bedrooms!” I chuckle. “You don’t have to, but the offer’s there.” I smile softly.

“No, I’d like that.” He says, a smile emerging on his face. “Sounds real nice. It’d do us both some good.” He says and I look at him confused.

“Your nightmares, I know you don’t think I know about ‘em.” He says as I react a little shocked.

“So you’ll help with my nightmares and I’ll help with your antisocial tendencies?”

“Antisocial tendencies?” He scoffs.

“Your habit of ignoring and avoiding people.” I point out and he is forced to conceive. “You won’t be able to ignore me if we live in the same house.” I chuckle.

“Are you trapping me? This sounds like kidnapping…” He jokes.

“It’s not kidnapping because you want to be with me.” I point out with a smirk as we walk into the kitchen, still looking around.

“Goddamn right I wanna be with you.” He says, lifting me up in the air, causing me to shriek slightly in surprise before he presses his lips against mine.

He places me back down on the ground but doesn’t pull his lips away from mine, instead wrapping his arms around my waist leaving my hands free to reach around his neck, pulling him closer to me.

He pushes his lips against mine, harsh but not too harsh, pouring all the pent up emotions from the last few weeks into the kiss, the passion and fears combined. My fingers tangle in the threads of his hair, the soft curls situated on the back of his head.

“(y/n)!” I hear my mum shout through the house before walking in the door, not giving us time to separate or jump apart before she appears with a few bags in hand. “Oh, I’m sorry.” She says, looking a little embarrassed although not as much as us. “I’ll leave. It was nice to meet you, Haymitch.” She says quietly before walking out the door.

Once I hear the door close, signalling she’s walked out the house, I bury my head in Haymitch’s chest, cheeks burning as he chuckles lowly.

“Your mother seems nice.” He jokes and I groan only causing him to laugh more.

AN: I hope you enjoyed reading!

Sorry I'm taking a while to get through requests!

I have rewritten this part two at least four times, I'm glad I've finally got a better version to post.

#hunger games #haymitch abernathy #hunger games x reader #hunger games x you #hunger games x y/n #hunger games x yn #haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch abernathy x you #haymitch abernathy x y/n #haymitch abernathy x yn #hunger games fanfiction #hunger games fanfic #haymitch abernathy fanfiction #haymitch abernathy fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #the hunger games #catching fire

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