#SOTR Victor

[justafewberries]

haymitch very likely knew the effect finnick’s story could have on the captiol in propos. he’s the one who worked out an angle for Katniss and Peeta in the first games, not Effie. He knew how to play the crowd in his own games. He proposed authentic footage of Katniss in combat rather than studio propos. He knows a story and the way to tell it.

But even he knows there are some things that you don’t ask of people. So when Plutarch suggests Finnick tell his story in a propo, Haymitch, who had known Finnick since he won his games at 14, raised hell.

“But it’s my message to President Snow that gets the wheels spinning in Plutarch’s brain. He hastily calls Finnick and Haymitch over and they have a brief but intense conversation that I can see Haymitch isn’t happy with. Plutarch seems to win- Finnick’s pale but nodding his head by the end of it.”

[onlybeeewrites]

A Change of Plans

Request: hi!! could i request a oneshot for haymitch where theyre already in a relationship, takes place during the 75th hunger games and shes reaped, reader is very similar to annie cresta - soft spoken, shy, kind but emotionally fragile due to past trauma - maybe haymitch and katniss’s alliance negotiations are more desperate because he promised to get her out of the games? please and thank you!!

Pairing: Haymitch Abernathy x Fem!reader 

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: mentions of PTSD, spoilers for Catching Fire 

A Change of Plans: Next

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The train hummed beneath them—too smooth, too quiet—like it had no business carrying something as ugly as death. Haymitch sat stiffly in his usual seat, a glass in hand he hadn’t touched. For once, the burn of liquor wasn’t enough. Not for this.

The reaping was over.

For District 12, at least.

Katniss and Peeta were reaped.

Well—he was. Technically.

Peeta volunteered, though it wasn’t like Haymitch could do much to stop him. Not when the Capitol stacked the deck so neatly, not when Snow already knew every move they’d make before they made it.

It was all exactly what he feared.

And somehow worse.

Because it wasn’t just Katniss and Peeta.

It was who else had been chosen.

The third Quarter Quell.

Where the victors themselves became the tributes.

A punishment wrapped in a celebration.

He hadn’t seen her yet. Hadn’t let himself imagine it. Wouldn’t allow her face to take shape in his mind—not until he had to. He thought he could delay it. Maybe she wouldn’t be reaped. Maybe, for once, the odds would lean in their favor.

Now, the screen played the recaps—district by district. A slow, cruel countdown. Effie had turned the volume up, her voice unnaturally chipper when she said they should “know who we’re up against.”

Peeta sat with his elbows on his knees, eyes fixed. Katniss sat rigid beside him, barely breathing.

A notepad lay in Peeta’s lap, filled with frantic notes and rough sketches. Names circled, others crossed out, arrows and question marks scribbled into the margins. He wrote based on Haymitch’s earlier comments—strategy, personalities, strengths. He wanted to be ready. Wanted to protect her.

They didn’t know how impossible that would be.

Haymitch sat bracing himself. His hands were already trembling, though he hadn’t taken a sip. He didn’t look at the others. Didn’t dare.

District 8.

The screen flickered.

There she was.

Standing alone on the platform, washed in that horrible blue-white Capitol lighting that made everyone look a little more ghost than human. Her hands were folded in front of her, fingers white at the knuckles. Her shoulders hunched slightly, like she was trying to make herself disappear into herself.

Just her and one other female tribute.

She hadn’t changed much. Maybe a few more lines around her eyes, a new softness in her features. But the essence of her remained untouched. The gentleness. The quiet strength. The kindness.

Even now, she looked soft.

Everything the arena was not.

Katniss inhaled sharply beside him. “Oh.”

Effie’s hand fluttered up to her mouth, her expression crumbling. “Oh no…”

Haymitch didn’t look at them. Didn’t acknowledge anything but the screen. His heart thudded slow and sick in his chest, and his fingers curled tight around the glass he still hadn’t touched.

Y/N stepped forward when they called her name. Her voice was low, trembling—barely above a whisper. But she walked. Unflinching. No dramatics. No sobs. Just the quiet dignity she always carried, like a thread sewn into her very bones.

She didn’t look surprised.

She didn’t cry.

That was her.

Always braver than anyone realized.

Braver than him.

“Won’t the other volunteer for her? She’s…” Peeta’s voice trailed off, uncertain, trying to say the right thing. “She’s not the most violent, is she?”

Haymitch’s jaw clenched. “I doubt it,” he said tightly. “The other female victor, Cecilia. Sweet woman. But she’s got three kids. If she wasn’t picked, she wouldn’t volunteer.”

Katniss was watching him now, not the screen. Her voice dropped into something softer than he’d ever heard it. “You didn’t think they’d pick her.”

“No,” he said flatly. “But then again…” He raised the glass, whiskey burning his throat. “Sometimes the odds are leaned into our favor.”

He tasted bitterness more than alcohol.

Because he knew.

He knew Snow did this on purpose.

Picked this Quarter Quell theme.

Picked Katniss.

Picked her.

This wasn’t justice. It wasn’t random. It was Snow’s hand around his throat, squeezing harder every time Haymitch dared to hope for something better. Dared to love something again.

Haymitch leaned forward and set the glass down, scrubbing his hands over his face like he could erase the image burned into the back of his eyelids—his wife, his wife, standing stiffly as Peacekeepers took her from the stage. They cut the footage just before she looked back.

But he didn’t need to see it.

He knew that look.

He’d seen it before.

The first time she was reaped, before they’d ever met.

Before she won.

Before he ever dared to let someone in again.

He had spent years protecting her in the only way he knew how—keeping her name quiet, keeping her out of the Capitol’s grasp, tucked away in the shadows of District 8. She had always felt too good for this world. Too soft for it. But she’d survived it once.

Her condition, her fragility, her gentle demeanor—none of it ever made her weak. It just made her precious. To him.

Now they were throwing her back into the fire.

“Haymitch,” Effie said gently. Her voice had lost all its Capitol shine. “I am… so terribly sorry.”

He didn’t answer. What was there to say?

There was no plan. No maneuver. No clever twist of words that could undo this.

All he could see was her. That quiet smile she gave him when she mended his clothes. The way she held his hand in bed when the nights were too dark. The smell of her hair. The small kiss to his wrist when she thought he was asleep. Her voice saying his name like it meant something.

Gone.

No.

Not gone.

Still within reach.

The plan was still in motion. The one he’d built with Plutarch piece by piece. But now… now it needed to be reshaped. Bent to save her.

He stood abruptly. His voice was rough, slurred at the edges, but solid where it counted. “She’s not dying in that arena.”

“Haymitch—” Peeta started, knowing that at the end, only one of them could get out. There was no way they’d let them get away with it a second year. 

He turned, eyes burning. “I mean it. I don’t care what it takes. If we’re—” He stopped himself. Too many ears. Too many cameras. He gritted his teeth.

Katniss nodded slowly, picking up what he was putting down. “We’ll watch her back. But you know how this works. Especially now. Only one can make it out.”

Only one.

That’s what the Capitol wanted them to believe.

But Katniss and Peeta didn’t know what he did.

Didn’t know Beetee’s plan.

Plutarch’s plan.

Didn’t know the ship hovering beyond the clouds that would be ready for when the time comes.

Didn’t know he’d already laid the groundwork to get her out. He just needed to get the other Victors on board.

He just had to keep Katniss alive long enough to make it happen.

For the rebellion to happen.

But now he had another factor to worry about. His wife was now stuck in the games. Haymitch needed to figure out a way to keep her safe. Sponsors would only do so much, and Cecelia would ensure you were looked after. The capital loved you and all the clothes you made. A Capital favorite, especially to all the designers like Cinna.

Maybe Finnick would do. He could be trusted.

Or Johanna. She liked Y/N. Had a soft spot for her, even if she’d never admit it.

It could work.

It had to.

Effie dabbed her eyes with a lace handkerchief. “She’s one of the good ones,” she whispered. “Always has been.”

Haymitch didn’t reply.

He couldn’t.

He turned and left, boots heavy against the floor as he crossed the car to his compartment. Once the door slid shut, he walked to the window and leaned a hand against it. The tracks blurred by below, the sky painted in ash and dying light.

Somewhere out there, she was being powdered, painted, packaged for the cameras. Being forced into a dress she didn’t want. Touched by hands that didn’t know her. Made to smile through the terror.

Somewhere, she was alone.

And he was here.

But not for long.

This time, he wouldn’t watch from the sidelines.

This time, if the world wanted war—they’d get it.

Because no one was taking her from him again.

Not without burning for it.

[effieotto]

thinking about how haymitch’s biggest fear was being recognized for something the capitol forced into him. how highly he valued his right to tell his own story, and paint his own poster, because he didn’t want the capitol to control the way his people would see him. about how easily he accepted defeat and sunk to submission when he lost hope, allowing the world to see him as wathever the capitol wanted them to. how he threw rocks at asterid and burdock, and stop talking with blair and his friends, because he didn’t recognized himself as the boy he was…

about effie’s first interaction with him, after he embraced the version of himself the capitol sold, being her saying she wasn’t scared of him, because she knew who he was. how she so easily reassured him that he was still the same kind person who had helped her with her makeup box, and nothing else…

[loveipromiseimnotinsane]

I'm sorry but if you're mad about Mags, Wiress, beetee, and effie being in SOTR I'm simply going to assume you read the books with your eyes closed.

[buttercups-revenge]

Everything we know about Plutarch now makes it so much funnier that he was the gamemaker that fell into the punch bowl during Katniss’ private session.

[besiriusiamwild]

rip wyatt callow, you would’ve loved peeta mellark—another son of a parent who had the odds stacked against their own child.

[maudestivory]

If I see one more person say the characters that show up in SOTR are just fanservice I’m GOING to lose my mind!!! USE YOUR CONTEXT CLUES!!!

[reluctantfir0]

Haymitch sucker punches Chaff, Johanna body slams Finnick into a table, Katniss is choking Peeta whose scratching at her, and Gloss kicked Cashmere in the shins, all viciously aggressive.

Capital Sponsors, sweating: Are they okay?

Effie "damage control" Trinket: Yes, this is just how they show affection.

[youcantseeus-fan]

I’ve commented on it several times over the years, but I’ve always been amazed at how many fans miss the fact that the other victors are Haymitch’s friends. This is stated multiple times in Catching Fire and Haymitch himself even confirms it at least once so it’s not just something Katniss thinks to herself.

The other victors are his friends.

It’s true that the book doesn’t specify which victors are his friends other than I believe Chaff. But the text does state friends in the plural. And if I’d had to guess which were his friends then I might have guessed that the people involved in this conspiracy to blow up the arena that Haymitch is also knee deep in would be pretty good candidates. So Beetee, Wiress, and Mags would all be good candidates.

So I guess while some people were surprised at their inclusion in SOTR, I was just sort of like … “okay, cool. This is how he meets some of his friends from Catching Fire.”

[justafewberries]

what if the reason haymitch sleeps with a knife isn’t from the arena? what if it’s something that happened after? say, someone coming for those he loves in the middle of the night?

[thefloatingwriter]

annie cresta is mentally ill. annie cresta is traumatized. she is traumatized from her Games. she does not need another reason to be traumatized, the Games are traumatizing enough. no, she was not involved in a secret rebel plot. no, her ptsd is not from being tortured by the capitol (though the Games themselves could be classified as capitol torture.) and no, you adding a rebel plot does not add anything to her story. in fact, it takes things away.

[batcavescolony]

I think we need to give Burdock Everdeen more credit, he basically mentored half the victors of district 12. His guidance is the reason 3/4 of them are alive. Did he know that was what he was doing? No, but he's basically the reason Katniss and Haymitch can swim, identify some plants, and know the woods. We talk about haunting the narrative, what about helping the narrative?

[giulyshipsarelife]

DAY 2: young Hayffie + role reversal au

Effie Trinket -> D12 Tribute

Haymitch Abernathy -> D12 Stylist

[gracefletcher]

Rewatching after reading the new book is so brutal.

[getmethefuckouttahere]

I fulfilled my promise about the reaping, or at least lent a hand, but she says I can’t come to her yet. I have to look after my family

[effieotto]

one of the tricks of the arena in the Quell being the forcefield showed just how it was all planed for Haymitch. They weren’t expecting Peeta to jump on and volunteer…it was always meant to be him. Katniss and Haymitch, the mockingjay and the example -both of the minds who had the guts to defy the Capitol. Both the sparks who almost burned the nation down with black berries and forcefields…

Snow had thought that, by killing every single person Haymitch had ever loved in his life, he had finaly been able to put a leash around his neck. And still, despite all his efforts, twenty years after he pulled his trick with the axe and won the 50th edition of the Hunger Games, Haymitch still had the guts to challenge the president one more time by creating the whole star-crossing-lovers approach with Katniss and Peeta, knowing the girl would never follow through Snows expectations, knowing all too well the sparks in her eyes and the damage it could cause-If the mockingjay did everything she did, it was because her mentor had allowed it- and Snow was very familiar with how hunting dogs like Haymitch Abernathy and Katniss Everdeen could not be disciplined….how dangerous it was to let someone with such strong ideals to walk around safely and sound, corrupting the minds of future tributes. He knew the only way out of it was getting rid of them, both of them- he had left the example alive once, and he would not make the same mistake again

the mockingjay doesn’t exist without her mentor