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ilguna · 4 years

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Tacenda - Chapter Ten (f.o)

Summary: you’ll never truly be free from the Capitol.

Word Count; 4k

Warnings; swearing, DEATH MENTION

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

Katniss throws another rock at the forcefield, and then she looks back to you guys, “Hang on.”

She heads straight for the tree that’s nearby. When you look up to see how tall it is, you realize that it might be one of the biggest inside of the arena. She would get a perfect view up there. Props to her for that quick thinking.

She slings the bow over her shoulder as she begins to climb up stealthily.

“Looks like I’m not the only one who climbed trees as a kid.” you laugh, covering your eyes from the sun to watch her disappear in the mess of leaves, tree branches and vines.

“Maybe you have met your match.” Finnick suggests, you scoff.

“As if!” you smile, leaning against a tree.

Peeta looks between you two curiously, almost like he doesn’t know what to think of you two. Of course he knows the basics, hopefully. The fact that you two won your games together, had a little falling out only to come back stronger when Annie had won her games. Hell, you came out engaged.

You’ve been married to Finnick for five, maybe six years now. You’ve known him for ten, but your relationship is almost like best friends. You two don’t drape over each other like lovers do. It could be because you guys know that the other will be just fine without it

You and Finnick can look after each other without being suffocating about it. It’s not like Katniss and Peeta have that type of relationship at all.

But then again, he could just be staring at you guys like this, because this is the type of relationship that he wants with Katniss. Something so laid-back. You guys can rely on each other, and share looks and know what the other is thinking without a single word being said. A mutual agreement, an understanding.

He’s not trying to protect you all the time, and you’re not trying to do the same to him. While with Katniss and Peeta, she’s so worried about him, that it doesn’t really leave room for mistakes.

You can see it all now.

“How are you holding up, Peeta?” you ask, still playing around with the knife, “Got superpowers yet?”

Peeta smiles, looking down at the ground slightly, “I’m doing good. Thank you, by the way, Finnick.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

You point to Finnick with the knife, and then raise your eyebrows, “You had your first kiss with Peeta, how exciting was that?”

Finnick laughs, shaking his head at you, “He was dead, it doesn’t count.”

You raise your eyebrows a little taller, “Okay, then do it again, I dare you.”

“I’ll pass, thanks.” Peeta says, moving away from Finnick purposely.

“You’re not my type, anyway,” Finnick says to Peeta, giving you a wink.

It’s quiet for a second, and then, “Haymitch gave you those?”

Finnick holds up his wrist, the same time as you hold out your hand with the ring. Not a word had passed between you two to spark this.

“Huh. Leave it to Haymitch, I guess.”

“You should be thanking him,” you shake your head, stopping with the knife, “He’s saving your lives. Had you gone this alone…”

They’d be as good as dead.

“What happened during the first bloodbath, anyway?” you ask, looking to Finnick.

“Guy from five tried to attack Katniss, saved her,” Finnick says, holding out his fingers, “Katniss shot at both Gloss and Enobaria. Gloss wasn’t quick enough, so he should be weak in one of his calves. Peeta killed the guy from nine.”

You look to Peeta to see that he’s nodding, “He can thank me for that. He almost missed it while he was looking at me.”

“I was surprised to see you, was all.” Peeta tries to defend himself, “And the ring was weird to see too.”

So, he did see it. Good enough for you.

“Anyone else?” you ask Finnick.

He shrugs, “That was it, besides the four cannons when we were running.”

Four, and the three kills that you had all gotten total, comes out to seven.

Only seven? That can’t be right.

“I guess we’ll see who exactly died tonight.” you say, and then look over to see Katniss coming down the tree.

She pulls the bow off of her back when she gets to the ground, “The forcefield, it’s a dome. We’re at the edge of the arena.” she stops next to Peeta, “I couldn’t find any signs of fresh water.”

“It’s gonna get dark soon, we’ll be safe with our backs protected. We should set up camp, take turns sleeping.” Finnick says, and then adds, “I can take first watch.”

Katniss laughs, “Not a chance.”

Finnick stands, and this is when you know it’s not going to be good. You reach out to grab his shoulder, glaring at Katniss over it, because you don’t want her to piss off Finnick.

“Honey,” he starts, gripping onto his trident a little tighter, “That thing I did for Peeta back there, that was called saving his life. If we wanted to kill either of you, we would have done it by now.”

And with that, you let go of his shoulder, nodding a little bit. Because he’s not wrong, there would be no point with keeping them around if you didn’t want them as allies. Hell, Finnick could have let Peeta die, and you would have sticked Katniss down. Problem solved, almost instantly.

Finnick pulls his trident up, and then offers his hand to you. You take it, and he begins to pull you off, away from where Katniss and Peeta are. He helps you up a step, and looks behind you guys, presumably at the other two. Then, he follows you to a tree you’ve picked out.

You sit against it, leaning your head back. Finnick checks up on you, and you tell him that you’re doing fine. You let him know before he goes that you’re fine with taking a watch if either of them suddenly decide they’re not okay with it. You make sure to say it a little loud so Katniss can catch that too.

She is supposed to be trusting of you, after all.

After that, you give Finnick a quick kiss, and close your eyes. Mostly hoping to take a nap, since you’re exhausted from the activity. You’ve already fought someone, and you’ve been climbing around the jungle all day with the sun beating down on your backs. The warmth of the arena is gross, and it hasn’t been comforting since the moment you arrived.

You place the knife carefully, so that if you suddenly make a grab for it, it won’t be the blade that you’re grabbing, instead it’ll either be dirt and leaves, or the hilt.

You begin to doze off, thinking about anything but the games. Mostly about your family back home. You’re aware that there’s a big chance that they have eyes on you right now. They could be seeing how tired and dehydrated you are. You’re just hoping that they aren’t worrying too much.

The question of whether or not they had watched you kill the male morphling comes to mind, and you keep telling yourself that it’s slim. That they wouldn’t have cameras underwater, because you and him were far down. Underneath the cornucopia and the path rocks is nothing but water. Unless they have cameras attached to the black rock, the chances of them seeing you were slim.

You’re just glad that you haven’t done anything above water just yet. You haven’t ran into any careers, or any stragglers. People who aren’t in the alliance would be a pain in the ass to fight. Especially since your little group right here, is made up of the two highest numbers. You and Finnick had gotten eleven’s, but Katniss and Peeta? The both of them had scored a twelve.

And going back to what you said earlier about numbers. High numbers are just as dangerous as low numbers. People tend to head for them, so the four of you are basically like a beam of light. If anyone that’s not in the alliance were to come after you guys, their first targets would likely be Peeta and Katniss, with you guys following shortly after.

However, you have a feeling that Katniss and Peeta didn’t deserve the numbers that they got. Sure, they could have shown off some deadly ass skill or something dumb like that, but once again, the scores are rigged. They could give them the high number just because they’re pissed off with them.

They want people to go after them. It’s not so that sponsors will go after them, it’s because they’re hoping that people will try to attack and kill them. Snow isn’t happy with Katniss by any means because of how rowdy the districts have gotten over her act of rebellion with Peeta.

Of course, Peeta had taken part in the action of almost eating the berries, but Katniss is the one that suggested it. She’s the one that pulled out the berries and wanted Peeta to eat them with her. Get rid of her, and the entire thing should die. There’s a chance that it’ll just make it worse, though. Because it would obviously be staged, but then again that could be why you’re all in this place.

It’s because Snow couldn’t just outright kill her. Everyone would be suspicious of it, and the Capitol absolutely loves them right now. They’d get mad at Snow if she ‘accidentally’ died. So, the only solution to that would be to alter what the Quell is. Change it from whatever unfortunate it was before, to what it is now. Now, the crowds can’t get mad if she’s suddenly killed, because she’s not the only one, and it won’t necessarily be his fault.

Katniss and Peeta won’t be killed in here though. It’s the entire mission, they’re going to get out of this arena alive. No matter what happens, you guys are supposed to take special care of Katniss, since she’s going to be the face of it. Keep Peeta happy too, because a happy Peeta, is theoretically a happy Katniss.

The sound of the anthem makes your eyes shoot open as if you’ve been shocked.

“It’s just the fallen.” Finnick says, “Nothing to worry about.”

You nod a little bit, settling your head back against the tree while hoping that your heart calms down some.

The first to show up is the guy from five. No careers are dead, Beetee and Wiress are alive, and obviously so are you and Finnick. Next to show up is the male morphling from District Six, following is Woof. He must have been the cannon that you guys heard when you were running, there’s no way he made it to the cornucopia. He’s old, he was barely doing well inside of the training center.

Your heart completely stops when you see Cecelia.

You slap a hand over your mouth, the tears already brimming your eyes. You’re careful to miss the knife entirely when you push yourself up. You can hear Finnick behind you while you move out of the way, away from Katniss and Peeta.

Cecelia’s dead. Her husband and three kids are now missing a wife and mother. She’s dead. Your best friend is dead.

“I should have saved her.” you sob, crouching down in the bushes while you try not to hyperventilate, “I should have saved her.”

Finnick rubs your back, “Breathe, it’s not your fault.”

“Finnick, I didn’t get to say goodbye.”

He makes you sit in the dirt, hugging you and shushing you slightly. He rocks you back and forth lightly, chin on your head. You can guess that he’s staring at the sky to check the last few people who have died.

“It’s okay.” Finnick tells you, squeezing you a little tighter, “It’s not your fault, honey. You were a good friend to her, and she knew it.”

You eventually start to get a hold of your breathing, but it still feels like a frog is stuck in your throat. You really wish that there was water, because you’ve definitely made this whole dehydration thing worse. Finnick moves from stray hairs back behind your ears, still rocking you and humming slightly, trying to get you to calm down.

It’s a few more minutes of this, before you finally decide that you’re okay. He double checks, and then helps you back to where you were sitting. On the way, he tells you the rest that had been killed. Both of District Nine, girl from ten, and Seeder.

You don’t feel like you can go back to sleeping, so you go back to spinning the knife in your hand, staring at the dirt adjacently. You try not to look in the direction of Peeta, not wanting to see him stare at you in pity. At least with Katniss, she’s behind you, therefore she can do it behind your back.

Eight have died, you were off by a number. There’s still fourteen people around the arena, taking away your group that you have going on, eight. The people left should be everyone up until four, the girl from five, the female morphling from District Six, Johanna and Blight, the guy from ten, and Katniss and Peeta.

It’s complete silence again, only the sounds of cicadas and other bugs filling the air. Until, the chiming of a sponsor gift breaks it. You look behind the tree to see that Katniss is already on her feet, heading towards where the gift had been dropped.

You can hear her break open the metal, clearly eager for whatever the gift may be.

“Drink up?” Katniss says, you’re guessing she’s reading the note.

“Is it water?” you ask, moving from your spot a little bit to see better, Peeta is also sitting up now.

“What is it?” Finnick asks, and you can just barely see Katniss hold up something.

“It’s from Haymitch,” she says, pausing for a moment as she turns it over her hand. Then, she gets up, “I think it’s a spile.”

“A what?” Finnick asks.

Katniss grabs a pretty big rock, and then goes over to a thin three. She hits it a few times, making sure that it gets into the tree. She waits, and you watch as Peeta gets up from his spot. On the way, he offers you a hand to get up too.

After thanking him, you join the other two at the tree. Katniss places her hand on it, waiting desperately. And then the water starts running.

“You’re kidding me,” Finnick laughs, and then he pushes you in front of him slightly.

Katniss gets water first, getting a mouthful. You can feel the smile come over your face suddenly, glad that there’s water. Peeta then goes next, taking his turn with it. Finnick still pushes you to go before him, so you take as much as you can hold, and then move out of the way too.

It’s weird to say, but you’ve never been happier to see water. You all continue to take turns with the water. For a little while, you sit under it, taking mouthfuls when you need it. And then eventually, when you feel much better and no longer sluggish, you take the knife from where you had been sitting at the tree.

“I’m going to find a place to sleep.” you tell Finnick, cupping his face slightly, “Don’t stay up for too long, okay?”

He nods, and brings you in for a kiss, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Finnick.” you say, moving some hair out of his face, “Drink more water.”

He laughs, “Goodnight.”

“‘Night.” you say, moving down to the spot you were eyeing. It’s farther down that Peeta is, and it’s next to a small drop in the dirt, caused by the root of a tree.

You place the knife in reach again, and then use one of your arms as a pillow. You close your eyes, falling asleep to the sounds of the bugs surrounding you.

You wake again at the sound of a gong. However, you don’t jump up like you did before, and you don’t open your eyes either. You try to keep track of how many times it happens, but you end up being impatient.

When it’s finally over, you can hear Katniss, “I counted twelve.”

“Midnight?” Finnick suggests.

“Or the number of districts.”

The silence consumes you guys again, until you hear sort of a charging sound. You recognize it, mainly because it’s the sound that your tv used to make at the house you had before winning. When the electricity used to be turned on for a couple hours of the day.

You open your eyes just in time to see the lightning strike the tree the first time. It’s partially loud, and you can help but to cover your eyes each time it flashes. You groan, turning over.

“Well,” Finnick starts, “If you’re not gonna sleep, I will.”

“Okay.” Katniss says.

You listen to the rustling of leaves and how they get louder. You don’t want to move from your spot, but you lean back slightly, opening your eye just a peek to see just how close Finnick is. He sets down the trident carefully, and lowers himself onto the ground.

“It’s just me.”

“I know,” you sigh, lifting up your arm, he slides in right behind you.

He spoons you, pulling you tight against his body. You hold onto his hand a little, squeezing it for reassurance. You’re thankful that the lightning storm doesn’t have any water either, even if cold rain would feel good right now. You don’t want to be huddled up, shivering like a cold, wet dog.

Eventually, the lightning storm becomes nothing but background noise to you. And instead of keeping you up, it lulls you right to sleep.

–

Katniss’ scream jolts you awake. Your hand is on the knife before you realize it, and you’re pushing Finnick’s arms off of you. You get up into a crouching position just as she yells, “Run!” Finnick sits up now, “Run! The fog is poison.”

You yank Finnick onto his feet as hard as you can. His trident was already in his hand, so he doesn’t have to bend over and pick it up. You watch as Peeta and Katniss race by you and Finnick. You two don’t lag very far behind, though. You’re pretty far ahead of the fog when you do start running.

You don’t hold onto Finnick, knowing that you can run just fine without him pulling you along. You use the vines on a tree to help you down, but as soon as they’re inconvenient, you let go.

Peeta leads the way on this one. He swings occasionally, taking down anything that might get in the way. Katniss is behind him, and Finnick is behind you. Eventually, you press the button for the knife to turn into the sword, as you swing at anything Peeta might have missed.

It’s quick motions. A twig gets in the way, you’ll swing at it, and keep moving. Anything that holds the potential of hurting you unnecessarily, you get it out of the way.

As you guys run, though, you can see that it begins to come from all directions. Peeta just barely slides by when it suddenly appears on your guys’ right. You make sure to get out of the way of the fog, but even then, you can still feel the tingle of the toxicity that it breathes into the air.

Peeta’s path becomes much more jagged. You guys will run to the left for a little while, and then the fog comes in, corralling you a different way. After that, it comes in from the right. You weave in and out of trees and bushes, until you finally realize that you and Finnick had split up from Katniss and Peeta.

Your eyes sweep the ground in front of you, and you take chances in quick glances to see if you can find where they had gone. You find them far off to your left, still running.

With this slip up, you can feel the entire right side of your body start burning. Without realizing it, you had accidentally started to run into the fog, rather than away from it.

Finnick grabs your hand while you try not to scream. Your run slows down considerably, since it feels like your entire right side of your body is on fire. From your head down to your toes, anything that had been exposed, is now aflame with the poison that the fog is made out of.

He tries his best to pull you along, not wanting you to slip up like that again. You watch as he makes almost the same mistake as you do. He yells out in pain, his arm twitching with the trident that’s in it, like he wants to raise the arm and hold onto his neck.

You watch as Peeta falls because Katniss isn’t able to carry him.

You and Finnick head to where Katniss and Peeta are.

“I can’t carry him.” Katniss says to Finnick.

You grab one of Peeta’s arms, lifting it for Finnick. He pulls the arm over his shoulder, and Katniss does the same on the other side. Finnick yells for you to keep ahead of them, and you comply, knowing that you can’t afford another encounter with the fog.

It still burns, and the more you walk, the more painful it seems to get. While you’re ahead though, you keep coming face to face with the fog. Just to make it all easier, you collapse the sword again so it’s not as heavy.

It’s a good thing you did, because you manage to throw yourself over a decline. The wind on your face is brief, as you begin to fall parallel with the dirt. But eventually, the time for flying is up, and you slam straight into the earth hard enough to shatter some bones.

Behind you, you can hear all three of them yell out in pain, before they’re following the same tumble as you are.

You try to keep a hold of the knife away from you, but eventually you throw it while you can in order not to land on it.

You feel the release in your body when you finally hit the bottom. There’s pain stabbing you all over your body, as well as the godforsaken burning that seems to have flared in your fall.

Finnick almost lands on top of you, but he just barely misses and stops to your left instead. You reach over, placing your hand on his chest to make sure that he’s still breathing as you watch the fog come closer. Once you feel that he’s breathing, you take in a deep breath.

You tell yourself over and over to catch your breath, and then get Finnick and go. You’ve been training for this exact moment, to be able to pick him up and bring him with you in the case of an emergency. He doesn’t even have to be cooperative in the movement, as long as you can get him on your back or something, you’ll be fine.

Just before you’re about to push yourself, you see the fog hit an invisible barrier, stopping it from getting to you four.

You fall back against the dirt again.

#ilguna #finnick odair #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair oneshot #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair tacenda #tacenda

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alliswell21 · 6 years

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Curling a Shot at Gold

I owed @katnissdoesnotfollowback an Olympic drabble... it’s not as detailed and riveting as I would’ve love to deliver, but I hope it’s still a good offering. I still have 5 minutes to post this on Feb. 25th, so, hope you enjoy it.

Rated G.

>>——————> >>——————->

Katniss plops on her stomach way harder than she meant to. She’s in first place and according to her calculations she’s got around 20 seconds on her closest contender. She got bullseyes on all of her targets in her previous two shooting rounds, so theoretically, she can relax and take breather, but her competitiveness won’t allow it.

To make matters worse (or maybe make matters better, she’s still on the fence on that) she saw Peeta at the edge of the track with the rest of the spectators cheering her on when she passed by. It’s irritating how easily she can pick him out in a crowd even in full winter gear covering his mop of ashy blonde curls and his sweet blue eyes hidden behind sunglasses. She could recognize the perfectly blinding smile even if he was masquerading as a riverbed rock like he once joked about. She shouldn’t be able to pick him out so fast, but after sneaking around the Olympic Village to be with him where no prying eyes could find them, she doubts she’ll ever erase his familiar presence from her sensory receptors. To her body and mind, he sticks out like a sore thumb.

She blushes, and is grateful for the protective mesh mask shielding her face from the achingly cold air, because her body feels his pull anywhere and responds to him with the least amount of provocation.

Katniss smiles to herself. She can’t deny she’s pleased he came to see her competing- not come across as full of herself, but who else is he here to see? She’s the only one from their selection left in this run- she likes to think, hopes really, their time together has made as deep, marked impression on him as it did on her. She was there for a couple of his events, including the night he made Silver on Curling Mixed Doubles, where he was paired with his sister-in-law, Delly Cartwright-Mellark, in his brother’s place, since the older Mellark sibling had fracture his leg in two places falling from the frozen staircase leading to their parents apartment atop their bakery back home.

The night he made his first medal was the night they celebrated without any discretion. They made out in public, drunk on his accomplishment alone, and the fireworks that exploded in his room after, where thing of legends. Of course, by the next day, everybody in their delegation had heard about them, if they didn’t witness it first hand.

Concentrating on her task at hand, she brings her rifle up to line the sight to her eye. Her finger rests comfortably on the trigger while aiming at the closest target. She inhales a calming breath and just as she shoots, the next competitor drops onto a lane two spaces away from hers, by the time Katniss is taking aim at her third target, two more athletes have arrived and chosen lanes for themselves.

She gets 4 bullseyes and one just an inch below. she’s glad all the prone shootings are behind her now, the position it’s not as accurate as standing, and it takes more time to reset for skiing. Barely registering the last target has flipped from red and white to black and white, Katniss hops to her feet, checks her skis and ambles into position to continue on to her next lap.

She’s freestyling. As she gets in her groove, she takes as deep a breath as she can. She’s calmer now somehow, but the race is not over; she still has two laps to go and one more shooting round in between before she can secure her victory.

She’s pleasantly surprised she didn’t picture Gale Hawthorne’s face as her target on this round, though. It's a good thing! It means she’s not as angry at him anymore. She’s relieved, but still scowls at the events that transpired the day after the Curling medal ceremonies.

“Are you serious, Catnip? You hooked up with that curler?” Katniss hears Gale’s angry voice in her head as she gains ground up the hill. Her heart races just as it did then, as if it was happening all over again.

“You say it like it’s a bad thing.” She had snap irritably. “As if it’s shameful or something.”

“He’s just some guy!” He practically yelled pulling his scarf off his neck and shoulders and balling it up in his fist. “You’re a serious athlete!”

“He’s as much an athlete as I am, in case you didn’t know this, I am just a girl too!” She rolled her eyes.

“You, are not, just some girl! You’re a skier. An Olympian. A Victor for fucks sakes! What are you doing with that guy?”

Her heckles rose. “For your information, Peeta is a hell of an Olympian himself. A silver medalists! A Victor, as you so obnoxiously put it.”

Gale threw his arms up in the air, scowling. He finally retorted angrily, “If you gotta fuck around, at least do it with a real winner! A gold medalist or something… but a curler?”

Katniss was furious. “Wait until the Men’s Curling events take the court. Peeta’s team will mop the ice with the rest of the other teams. They’ll wish they were the little brushes so they could experience the touch of greatness!” It was really bad form and poor sportsmanship to gloat and taunt, but she was beyond angry, defending their national Curling team to part of her own Biathlon team mate. “And even if they don’t win, I’d still be proud of Peeta and his accomplishments, and since the cat is very much out of the bag, I’d still go public with him when we return home.”

Relieving the satisfaction of walking away from a equally dumbfounded, stricken and angry Gale, would have to wait until later, the first bend of the lap was upon her.

With a shake of her head, Katniss looks up and brings herself back from her aggravating memories. Gale was way out of line, but he’s an amazing practice partner and she’d hate to lose him- training with a male biathlete has worked wonders for her times- he pushes her limits until she overcomes them. She’s faster, more aggressive and enduring thanks to her partnership with Gale, but there’s no way she can stay with him if he doesn’t get a clue soon, no matter how hard it is to find good practice partners.

She leans into position for the fast descent. Her form is graceful and perfect and soon she’s zooming across the familiar track. She mentally curses Gale again, she was so distracted relieving their argument, she didn’t take a glance at the board with the current standings or the other women in the Biathlon. Heck! She doesn’t even remember swinging her rifle back in place on her back when she left the shooting lane, nor she remembers taking her ski poles from her side. She thanks her memory muscle for acting on autopilot, because sure enough, all her equipment is exactly where they should be, and to prove it, she sinks her poles into the powdery snow to push herself forward, gaining speed.

The next shooting station is just behind the next bend, past the roped area where family, friends and other expectators are congregated. She is going too fast. She was hoping to take another peek at Peeta before her last shooting round, but the crowd was just a loud, colorful blur. For now, She has to content herself just knowing he’s out there, cheering her on.

She has to turn sideways to stop herself in front of the shooting lanes. Just like with the previous 3 rounds, she takes her position, brings her rifle up, loads the cartridge and aims, this is a standing round. She smirks, because although the target distance is larger on the final round, she’s racked up the points and has added at least two minutes to her run, and this is her favorite position and best event. The fact that she’s a much better shot than Gale Hawthorne any day of the week, has nothing to do with it… that’ll be petty. Although, she wants to see him try to match her speed. Just saying.

She tips her head from side to side, plants her feet in her shooting stance, squares her shoulders quickly relaxing them down and her eye aligns with the rifle sight. Her finger curls like a caress over the trigger. She inhales deeply.

“For the gold!” She exhales to herself.

One last thought crosses her mind: ‘I don’t need my man to make gold, I’m my own gold!’

Then she shoots.

Resets.

Shoots.

Resets.

It goes on like this until it’s over, in under 40 seconds.

She places her rifle behind her back for her last lap, all the while taking time to look at the board. Her name is in first place, by her count, she’s 33 seconds ahead of the next closest biathlete, which is enough for her, so she turns without comparing the times listed besides her name on the screen. She lowers her goggles over her eyes and pulls on her mask over her mouth and nose, and as soon as she closes her fists on her poles, she’s gone.

She crosses the finish line in a blur.

She comes to a halt hard, once she’s in front of the board and almost loses her balance. She can’t hear anything over the roar of her own blood rushing to her ears, but she can see her smirking picture on the screen, bigger than life, the number 1 next to her name, and a time of 43:34.8.

Then a couple of other women fly by and stop next to her, names and pictures pop up under hers, taking the second and third slots. Another group of skiers arrives. Then all the points from the shootings are awarded and the names on the board start scrambling and switching places, some drop a few positions, while others climb up, her name doesn’t change, but her times do. She gets 2 minutes subtracted off her skiing time, bringing her down to 41:34.8.

The next closest time is 43:05.6 including deductions, and she has no idea she’s jumping and screaming and crying all at once while pumping her fist into the air, until her pole that’s been flailing helplessly around with every shake of her arm, smacks her rifle on her back. Somebody drapes a flag around her shoulders, she has enough presence of mind to grip the edges tightly as she keeps her exuberant celebration going, until is time to take her place in the podium with her fellow medalists.

Her eyes find the face she’s looking for: Frostbitten nose and cheeks under sparkling, intense blue eyes and a smile so wide it has to be painful to its owner. He’s holding up a sign she didn’t see at first: “Katniss Shoot Straight! Your #1 Fan.”

Just then, she realizes, she has no clue about the intricacies of Curling, she knows there’s a good deal of strategizing involved, but she vows to learned all she can about the curler beaming up at her from the crowd. She’s his number one fan after all. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks, Curling is cool!

#everlark ficlet #winter olympics #biathlete!Katniss #Curler!Peeta #rated g

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ellanainthetardis · 7 years

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They’re getting ready to welcome the baby! I hope you like it! Let me know!

[FF] or [AO3]

28. Thirty-two Weeks

“Breathe.” Haymitch ordered her, prompting Effie to shoot him a glare. He rolled his eyes and lifted defensive hands. “Hey, you heard the lady, that’s what I’m supposed to say when stuff like that happens.”

It was her turn to want to roll her eyes and she fought against that bad habit very hard.

Haymitch hated the antenatal classes with a passion hardly rivaled by anything else but he was actually attentive during them, which didn’t always end up to Effie’s advantage. He found sitting on the floor, on yoga mats, stupid and irritating – she suspected it was mainly because he had to help her up afterwards and she was heavy – and he wasn’t a fan of the theoretical aspect of labor that he would have been happy to remain ignorant about until he was forced to face it. The breathing exercises, on the other hand, he had taken to with boredom but diligence – and he liked to spring them up on her every time she looked a bit off the weather.

“We are in a hospital, I dare say I am perfectly fine.” she sighed.

“Told you having the classes and the appointment in one day was too much.” he triumphed, far too smug for her liking.

“And as always I should have deferred to your superior experience with pregnancy.” she retorted. “You carried so many children before. Oh… Wait.”

His eyes twinkled. “Sassy.”

Perhaps going to the class and then to their appointment with Doctor Larcher had been a bit ambitious for one day. Even as she laid there, on the examination table, waiting for the doctor to show up, she felt ready to burst. And the added stress of being in the clinic wasn’t an added bonus.

“I cannot wait for this to be over.” she said. She immediately felt guilty about it because she certainly didn’t want her baby to come out now, well before his due date.

“Only a little over a month to go.” Haymitch reminded her, trying to be comforting. It wasn’t.

“Easy for you to say.” she snapped. “You are not the one full to the brim with a human being.”

Tears pricked her eyes and she blinked them away hastily. He glanced at the door, probably wishing Larcher would hurry up, and then brushed her hair out of her face. She batted his hand away. The wind had destroyed all her attempts at looking nice but she wasn’t going to let him make it worse.

“Mariana is right.” he grumbled. “You’re in a mood today.”

She hadn’t appreciated the comment when Mariana, the midwife, had muttered it and she didn’t appreciate it any more now. She wasn’t sure she liked the midwife at all, truth be told, and she dearly hoped Larcher would be free for the actual delivery.

She didn’t think Mariana wished her or the baby any ill – and Haymitch had certainly made sure of that with a background check Effie wasn’t supposed to know about although he should have known by now that he couldn’t keep a secret from her – but she had flinched away from Effie when they had first met and she walked on eggshells around her. She was young, in her twenties, not old enough for the terror of Reapings to having dulled and she was from Twelve, which made it worse.

The classes were in groups and the other three pregnant women in theirs had been cordial enough if not friendly. She hadn’t heard a single bad word uttered against her and she didn’t perceive any of them as a threat – something Haymitch would have most likely picked on because he had been overprotective to the point of suffocating her since Clay. Still, she felt lonely but she had never tried to join the other three women when they laughed or joked, just like Haymitch had stayed far from the other fathers.

“I am eight months pregnant.” she growled. “When either of you are eight months pregnant, you will get to comment on my mood.”

“Well said.” Larcher teased as he strode in. “How are we today, Effie?”

“Bitchy.” Haymitch answered for her.

If she hadn’t been lying on her back and if it hadn’t taken a lot of rolling left and right to get off that table, she might have tried to murder him. And given the smirk he flashed her, he probably knew it.

“I am tired.” she admitted. “And I feel dizzy more and more often.”

“That’s probably the baby pressing on your ribcage.” Larcher reassured her, studying her. “He doesn’t have much room.”

Once more, Effie fought not to roll her eyes. In her opinion, he had plenty of room. It would take her a long time to get her figure back.

The doctor examined her while Haymitch stared at the ceiling half in courtesy and half in embarrassment.

“He doesn’t move as much as before.” Effie told him eventually and, immediately, Haymitch’s attention snapped back to her.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he accused, his eyes darting between her and the doctor. “She had too much stress, yeah? The fucking wedding, the press, her family… That hurt the baby? Is he…”

“Calm down, Haymitch, the baby is fine.” Larcher chuckled, patting his shoulder. “It is perfectly normal for the baby to be less active, it means he probably shifted to be ready to come down so you can’t feel him as much. It also accounts for the pressure on your bladder, the dizziness and the heartburns you haven’t mentioned but I’m sure are there.”

Effie flashed him a sheepish smile. “Those are not so bad. They didn’t seem worth mentioning.”

“As you pointed out, you’re eight months pregnant. Everything is worth mentioning.” Larcher retorted without heat. “Now, are we ready for the last ultrasound?”

Effie nodded. It was odd to know it would be the last time she would see the baby on the screen, that the next time she would see him… She would be holding him in her arms.

She blindly reached for Haymitch’s hand and squeezed.

The familiar wooshing sound was the best part, in her opinion. Her baby’s heartbeat… She would never get tired of that.

“Here he is.” Larcher said, pointing to the mass on the screen, retracing the shape with his finger. “See? That’s his head, right here.” He was indeed, facing down, already ready for labor. “And…” Larcher frowned, leaning closer to the screen.

“What?” Haymitch immediately worried.

“Is there a problem?” Effie asked at the very same time.

They clung to each other’s hands. It couldn’t be that bad, she rationalized, the heartbeat was strong and their baby looked just like a baby ought to. It couldn’t be…

“A problem, no.” the doctor mumbled, still frowning, before dismissing it with his free hand. “I apologize, it’s nothing.”

“Are you sure?” Haymitch growled. “What about the cord? ‘Cause I’ve read they can go around the baby’s neck and…”

“It is a possibility I strongly encourage you not to worry about.” Larcher countered. “Everything looks good.” He typed on the keyboard. “He…”

“Aidan.” Effie cut him off. “His name is Aidan.”

Larcher smiled indulgently and started again: “Aidan is perfectly healthy and there is no reason to expect any difficulty during the delivery. He’s a little under four pounds now, which is perfectly in the range for thirty-two weeks.”

The idea that she would have to somehow get a baby who would weight more than four pounds out of her was terrifying.

“Are you still set on the home delivery?” the doctor asked.

“Yes.” she answered firmly.

There wasn’t much more to say or do. Larcher urged her to rest a little more and, soon, they were back in the town’s busy streets – well, busy for Twelve.

They walked slowly, mostly because it felt to her as if the Village was way too far for her to get back on foot.

“You’re sure you want to give birth at home?” Haymitch hesitated as they were rounding the Clarke’s coffee shop’s corner. “‘Cause… What they said at the shower… I know it scared you shitless.”

“Language.” she reminded him, placing a protective hand on her stomach, over the coat that wouldn’t close properly. The weather wasn’t that bad for March though, almost as if spring was eager to arrive. “And… It may have spooked me a little.”

She had been glad when Elindra and Lyssa had gone home with a promise to come back sometimes after she had had the baby – something Haymitch had just loved. She had also been somehow relieved when Annie and Johanna had left for Four. She hadn’t dared talk about it with Eileen yet though. She wasn’t sure she wanted to. How would it help to know just how much it would hurt?

“I know you don’t want a hospital…” he hesitated.

“I will be fine.” she replied, forcing herself to sound strong. “We will be fine.” She grabbed his hand and squeezed. “Won’t we?”

He winced. “I ain’t the one who’s gonna have to do this, sweetheart… If I could spare you the pain, I would, but…”

And he would, she believed that.

“It cannot be worse than a whip or…” She let her voice trail off and took a deep breath. Her sudden dizziness had nothing to do with the baby, it wasn’t him who was pressing on her ribcage. It was the memories. “Perhaps I will be in excruciating pain but it will be for something good and it will mean something. It won’t be pointless and it won’t be… I survived torture, I can survive giving birth. We will have a baby boy at the end of it.”

“Yeah.” he smiled, placing his arm around her shoulders and drawing her into his side.

She humored him for a few minutes but they couldn’t really walk like that anymore, it wasn’t practical at all, she was dawdling too much.

She was dismayed to realize they were still far from the slope that would take them to the Village.

“Do you think Katniss will be alright?” she asked, her mind jumping tracks in an effort to distract herself from the long way to go. “Were we clear enough?”

He shrugged. “That was mostly Jo being an ass. I shouted at her about it.”

“You shouldn’t shout at Johanna.” Effie chided him. “She went through a lot too. Did it occur to you the ideas she put in Katniss’ head had something to do with how she feels about the situation?”

“Jo’s a big girl.” he scoffed. “She’s practically got a kid of her own.”

Effie sighed. “You can be so obtuse sometimes.”

He shot her an irritated glance. “So what? You know Johanna better than I do now?”

“Well, we did share a cell, you know.” she retorted, a bit flippantly. “It tends to give new perspectives on people.” She shook her head, choosing her words carefully. “She… looks up to you a lot. You were always watching after her and Finnick but when Katniss and Peeta came along…”

“What? You’re saying she’s jealous?” he snorted. “Come on.”

“I am saying the situation is more complicated than what you make it out to be.” she argued firmly. “I do not think she was simply trying to get a rise out of you or Katniss.”

She sighed in relief when she spotted the slope leading up to the Village.

“Don’t know.” he admitted. “Maybe. But she’s doing fine on her own, she doesn’t need me hovering over her shoulder.”

“Perhaps try to tell her that next time.” she advised.

He rolled his eyes and placed a hand at the small of her back to subtly – or, at least, he thought it was subtle – help her up the path.

“I hope this one’s gonna be easier, sweetheart.” he declared.

She pursed her lips and tilted her head to studied him.

“Half you and half me.” she reminded him. “How much easier do you think it will be exactly?”

He made a face. “Point taken.”

They were silent for the rest of the way, mainly because Effie needed to save her breath. She could have wept in joy when she heard the familiar honking and barking at the corner of their street. Home at last.

Snowball jumped around her in welcome as soon as they made it to the backyard and Haymitch was forced to gently shoo him away in fear of her overbalancing.

“Don’t forget the mail.” she said, distracted by the puppy. If she didn’t remind him of those practicalities, the mailbox would burst with unopened letters and bills.

She let herself in and made a beeline for the living-room, dropping on the couch with utter exhaustion. Never again would she cumulate a class and an appointment. Haymitch had been right. Not that she was about to admit that much, he would become insufferable.

The front door was slammed shut and she clenched her jaw in annoyance. He needed to lose this bad habit and fast. Soon there would be a baby in the house and she wouldn’t appreciate it at all if he woke him up with his carelessness.

“You’d think they’d get tired at some point.” he grumbled, tossing a few letters on the coffee table and handing her a now crumpled newspaper. “It keeps coming and coming.”

When she realized what had him so irritated, she sighed. The press had been having a field day with them since the wedding. The interest about her pregnancy had died after the first few months but it had risen again with Clay’s attack – something she was definitely trying to forget about – and after the short-notice wedding…

It seemed nothing worthy of mention was happening in Panem because they were making the headlines one day out of two. They had tried to appeal to Plutarch’s good side but the former Gamemaker claimed his hands were tied. He had held the wolves back as long as he had been able, it was out of his control now – but the money went directly in his pockets, she couldn’t help but think.

“What are they saying today?” she asked, a tad bitterly.

Given that strict instructions had been given to their friends and relatives to not disclose anything about them or the baby – something her family was respecting to the letter because she had made it clear she would not tolerate her child being exploited for five minutes of fame – medias were forced to invent quite a number of things to keep the public interested.

“Wondering if it’s a boy or a girl and calling a girl.” he snorted, sitting down next to her.

He left her to peruse the article while he kept busy trying to tug a stuffed toy out of Snowball’s mouth. The puppy growled and wouldn’t let go but his tail was wagging in amusement. Effie’s attention wasn’t on the dog but when she caught sight of what exactly they were playing with, she frowned and then gasped.

“Snowball!” she snapped. “Bad puppy! Very bad puppy!”

Haymitch’s eyebrows shot up and he placed a protective hand on the dog’s head when Snowball suddenly huddled against his legs, doing his best innocent puppy eyes.

“He’s just fake growling, sweetheart.” he grumbled. “He’s playing. He ain’t gonna attack or anything…”

She pursed her lips and glared at the dog. “That bear isn’t yours, is it?”

The poor blue stuffed bear was damp with drool.

“What do you mean it’s not his?” Haymitch asked, confused. “Thought you had bought it for him… You’re always buying him toys.”

“This was in Aidan’s crib.” she hissed. “And it is not the first time someone tries to steal our son’s toys.” Snowball let out a whine and lied down in what was probably supposed to be a show of contrition. She didn’t let herself be moved – not too much anyway. “I am very angry with you. Bad puppy. Very bad puppy.”

Haymitch chuckled. “Maybe we should have the talk about the new sibling with him too… Hell, sweetheart… Maybe we should gather everyone we know and give them the talk. It would save time.”

“This is not funny.” she retorted. “This is a behavior problem that needs to be corrected now. He has his own toys and he is spoiled enough as it is. What if he steals our son’s favorite stuffed toy one day? What will we do then?”

“Put it in the washing machine?” he suggested, his grey eyes twinkling in mischief.

“Nothing that has been touched with puppy’s drool is ever going anywhere near my son.” she declared.

“Then we better burn down the whole house.” he shrugged, smirking with obvious fondness as if she was being adorably funny.

“You think I am overreacting.” she pouted.

“You, overreacting?” he repeated, faking astonishment. “Never.”

She might have started ranting if Snowball hadn’t warily carried the bear over and dropped it on her knees – still damp with drool. She made a face that made Haymitch laugh.

He laughed so rarely that it almost made the ordeal worth it.

Almost.

She placed the bear behind her, out of the dog’s reach, and patted his head. Snowball gave the toy a last yearning look – and she was certain he would find a way to steal it again because he had had his eyes on that bear ever since she had come home with it – and trudged to his own bed where he started munching on his purple monkey.

“You are doing the laundry.” she decided and then thought better of it. “Never mind. Last time I had you doing that it was a disaster.”

“You know I had lived alone for close to thirty years when you showed up, right?” he mocked.

“I do not think we should use the state your house was in during those years as standards.” she replied. “And dropping everything in the machine, adding a hazardous amount of detergent and typing on buttons at random isn’t how you do laundry.”

Her cashmere sweater had never recovered.

“If you say so.” he humored her.

“I do, actually.” she huffed, looking back down at the newspaper. “At least we know nobody is talking to them.”

The article claimed the chances of them having a girl were high because so called experts had examined the shape of her stomach on her wedding pictures. It seemed she had also been seen perusing dresses in a shop.

“They’re a pain.” he spat. “The fuck they want with us?”

“The same thing they always did.” she commented. “Use us to make money.” Her fingers brushed over the black prints. ‘A little girl for the Abernathy family?’ She snorted. “Let them exhaust themselves figuring out which girl name we picked. It will keep them busy and off our back.”

“Shouldn’t have tried to talk to them.” he accused. “I know you meant well but… It just fueled the fire.”

“Perhaps if you hadn’t threatened them.” she retorted, rubbing her stomach. She leaned against his side and rested her head on his shoulder. “What’s done is done.”

He wrapped his arm around her and let her use him as a pillow for what, she was sure, would be a long nap.

“I don’t want our kid to grow up in the spotlight, that’s all.” he sighed. “We can’t change who we are but…”

His voice trailed off but she knew what he meant. Their child shouldn’t have to carry that weight. “Yes. I wish…”

It was her turn to leave her sentence incomplete.

“Yeah.” he breathed out against her hair, pressing a kiss on the top of her head. “Fuck, if I know.”

#hayffie #effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #april showers

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