#filed under: the ballad of a drunk and his lady

[allonsysilvertongue]

Seasons

The Ballad of A Drunk & His Lady: Seasons

Sorry this came a day later! This is for the first day of the Hayffie Week :)

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The trains came and went, as did the seasons. 

Each summer, each bloom of the flower, each floating of a snow flake often left him emptier than before.

Wrapped in his winter jacket, Haymitch trudged through the thick blanket of snow that had fallen over Twelve since the night before. He took in the sight, let his hand sweep over it to feel the wetness on his palm as the snow melts. Should have worn gloves, he mused but he was used to the cold. 

Twelve had never seen snow this white, uncontaminated and unpolluted before. Never. It was so pure. Since the charcoal factories were destroyed during the war and no one had bothered to rebuild them up again once people started moving in, the ashes couldn’t stain the snow. 

It was for the best. 

They should focus on some other trade. Something that wouldn’t kill the boys and men; something that wouldn’t leave women to become widows and childless. 

Haymitch eventually reached the train station and as was his habit, he settled down on one of the benches he often occupied during his monthly vigil. 

Sometimes, he could see the look of pity on Katniss’ face – this foolish old man, waiting on something that was never going to be his – but he would ignore it. Peeta was always full of hope, always giving him unsolicited words of assurance that it wouldn’t all be in vain. The boy would pack some bread for him so Haymitch wouldn’t be hungry during his wait, and Katniss would often make her displeasure known.

“Stop encouraging him,” she would snap at Peeta. “Don’t you see what it’s doing to him?”

Haymitch waited. 

In all honesty, he wasn’t expecting this month to be any different. Soon enough, the sun gave way and the night set in. The last train entered the station for the night. His last hope – if he was the sort – after six trains had docked and departed. 

He watched as people alighted and boarded, watched every face as he searched for a familiar one. In the end, he sighed and stood up, ready to leave. 

“Nothing, Mr Abernathy?” a man asked from the guard house.

“It would seem so,” he answered gruffly. “Maybe next time - tell me when the alcohol comes in though.”

“Will do,” the man nodded. 

He walked away until a voice stopped him cold.

“Still drinking,” it said, sounding amused. “Hello, Haymitch.”

His breath bitched, heart lodged in his throat. Sounded like a dream. 

Raising his head, he turned over his shoulder to see the person he had been waiting for standing right there, holding on to a lone suitcase. 

“Hello, sweetheart,” he schooled his facial expression. “Finally found your way, huh?”

“I wasn’t lost. I just needed time.”

“It’s winter again,” he told her and wanted to kick himself right after. Of course she was aware of it – why did he have to say that?

He left her behind to take Katniss home during one of the Capitol’s winter. She had told him then that she needed time and since then, two winters had passed.

“And yet you waited…” 

It sounded more like a question than a statement. As if she was unsure if he wanted her around.

“Ain’t got nothing else to do,” he shrugged. “Besides the geese.  Gave me something to look forward to.”

She smiled and he released a breath, feeling himself relax. He would have waited for her throughout all the seasons if he had to.

[allonsysilvertongue]

Nursery (Day 4 - Cliche Trope)

The Ballad of A Drunk & His Lady: Nursery

A/N: Actually not so much cliche, more of just an AU. But hope you enjoy nonetheless.

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Generally, Effie disliked hospital from that one experience she had in her teen, dragging Portia through the emergency room after she became unresponsive from alcohol intoxication.

The entire incident had been traumatising for her – having to recount their night, facing Portia’s worried parents and then waiting for hours for her friend to wake up.

She avoided hospitals except for today.

Today was a happy occasion and she didn’t mind it one bit, especially since this was in a different wing then the emergency room altogether.

Effie stood in front of the nursery, admiring and marvelling at all the new born babies with a little smile of her face. They were all so beautiful swaddled in blue and pink and all so innocent – a blank canvas, and she hoped they will be a bundle of joy to their parents.

She strained her neck to catch a glimpse of little Finn at the back of the room. Her hand was pressed against the glass window, her face inches from it so her breath was fogging the glass.

“If you’re so eager to see the baby, you might as well go in to the damn room,” a deep amused voice commented.

She bristled at that, annoyed that someone would be telling her what to do. But since she wasn’t raised to be rude, she turned towards the stranger with a smile.

“Here’s fine, too,” she answered.

The man next to her was handsome – tall and rugged looking. But he did not seem like someone she would normally pay any mind to from the way he was dressed or the slight bulge of his stomach but what struck Effie the most was his eyes. They were silvery grey under the light of the hospital corridor and his dirty blond hair that frame his face accentuate his eyes.

He looked away with a shrug and stepped closer to the window, peering in just like she had.

“They all look the same to me,” he remarked. “Thought they were supposed to cute or somethin’. Ain’t nothin’ cute ‘bout them – just wrinkly skins and squishy faces. Kinda look like aliens if you ask me.”

“Lucky for you, nobody’s asking you,” she huffed, unable to help herself. “How rude of you.”

“I’m not insultin’ your kid in particular, sweetheart,” he chuckled. “Don’t take offense, yeah?”

“It’s too late. I’ve taken offense. It is such an unwarranted remark. I do pity your baby if that’s what you really think of them. Does your wife know of your opinion?”

“Lucky for them,” he smirked, “none of those are mine. Just here to visit. No wife either,” he added and had the audacity to wink at her.

“I see,” she said. “How about a girlfriend?”

Effie realised the words were out before she could stop it and bit her tongue down, refusing to look at him.

“Interested, are we?”

He sounded so smug, so full of himself that Effie wanted to say something that would deflate his ego. He angled his body so that he was leaning against the window, facing her.

“Which one’s yours?” he asked, jerking his head towards the direction of the nursery.

“Just visiting,” Effie matched his stance.

“No girlfriend. I ain’t about all that.”

Effie lifted a curious eyebrow. “What are you about then – apart from insulting innocent babies?”

He let his gaze roamed over hers and Effie, who should rightly feel disgusted, felt a thrill ran up her spine at the intensity of it. It was a good thing then that she was in her favourite yellow dress that hugged her figure in all the right places. Johanna had scoffed at her that morning for taking too long to get ready but she had wanted to set a good first impression for Finn, even if he was just a baby.

“I’m about us finding an empty room and then seeing where it goes, sweetheart,” he said, the corner of his lips curling into a smile.

Effie actually laughed at that – a genuine, loud laugh tinged with amused disbelief.

“That was so bad. It was horrible! I’m sorry – but it really is. Did you actually manage to get women to go with you with that line before? I’m openly curious.”

The man scowled, but Effie could see the fire in his grey eyes; determined and resolute. She was sure his interest was now piqued.

“I better go,” she said when she saw one of the nurses getting ready to transfer Finn out of the nursery to the where Annie would be. “Nice meeting you, Mr….”

She extended her hand.

“Haymitch,” he grasped her hand. “Just that.”

“It was nice meeting you, Haymitch,” she gave him a smile and this time, she let her gaze wandered over him openly. She took in the sight of the dark red open collared button down shirt with faded jeans and boots that was a little muddy. She wondered where he was from and what he does for a living. “I enjoyed the view.”

“Of the babies?”

“The babies, of course,” she affirmed and walked away without even letting him have her name.

Effie saw him again the next day.

He was in the waiting room lobby outside of the nursery with a baby girl in his arms. Curious, she approached and naturally, gushed over the infant with her mop of thick black hair and cute button nose.

“My kid got a kid,” he explained. He looked seemingly lost, and as Effie began to notice, looking a little stiff carrying the baby. “One of her stitches let out so doctor’s in there. Her husband, too. And I’m out here minding the baby. Should have just let the nursery have her,” he muttered.

“You’re good with her,” Effie assured. “Look at her, she is not crying at all. She’s peacefully asleep. Such an angel, isn’t she? You must be doing something right so, really, Haymitch, there is nothing for you to be worried about.”

“Sure,” he scoffed. “Just a matter of minutes and the little devil will wake up screamin’.”

He said that but Effie could see the fondness in his eyes, plain as day. He loved the baby already. In fact, to her, he looked like someone who would let himself be wrapped around the baby’s little finger.

“What’s her name?”

“Willow… Willow Mellark.”

“It’s a beautiful name,” she brushed a finger against the baby closed fist. “I have a proposition if you are interested, Haymitch. If you see this through until the doctor is done with Willow’s mother, I shall take you out for a drink.”

“That so? You’re gonna take me out, are you, sweetheart?” His gaze flitted up to her face, challenging.

“Yes, I am,” she answered.

“And empty room after?”

“Oh, do not be so desperate, Haymitch.”

“You’re hot – makes any man wild. And you’re difficult – makes me wild,” he teased. “Give me a name, sweetheart.”

“It’s Effie,” she told him.

“Sure,” he chuckled, thinking of how ridiculous it sounded. “We’ll go with that. Who you here for?”

“My friend, Annie, gave birth to a baby boy. Finn Odair.”

“Pretty committed for a friend – you’ve been here two days in a row. Nothin’ much going on in your life, sweetheart?”

“Effie,” she repeated. “Learn my name.”

[allonsysilvertongue]

Different Page

Hello! I know I've been missing from the hayffie world for ages. I wrote this while bored and I know it won't be as good as what I used to write so pls go easy on me. Also, really excited about that Hunger Games prequel we're getting next year!

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The Ballad of A Drunk & His Lady: Different Page

Twelve was different nowadays.

Effie glanced around, taking in the sight of the train station. It wasn’t as crowded as Four or the City, but there was definitely more people commuting as of late. There was a ticket booth set up to the left of the station’s main entrance which was never there before and it showed one the most glaring development Panem had gone through since the fall of the Capitol – the freedom to travel between districts.

Leaving the station behind, Effie took the familiar route to Victors’ Village. Today in particular, it brought back a rush of memories especially the time she came to Twelve as an Escort for the Third Quarter Quell. She blamed it on the reports she spent the last one and half weeks pouring over for the Council, a task that had been given to her as the only surviving Escort in Panem.

The ringing from a bicycle startled her out of her thoughts. She stopped to give way to the teenage boy with a big basket mounted behind him on his bicycle, carrying bags of flour.

“Thanks, Ms Trinket,” he shouted over his shoulder before disappearing at the next bend to Peeta’s bakery.

She wondered what this week’s special would be at the bakery. It was always something different each time she visited, which she would later on in the afternoon. First, there were other agendas on her itinerary.

Standing at the fountain in the middle of Victors’ Village, Effie took a deep breath before crossing the threshold to the run down, familiar house. Haymitch had adamantly refused to repaint the exterior no matter what she said. It had now become an amusing point of contention between them, amongst other things. At least though, the overgrown weeds were under control so Effie took that win.

She knocked and waited patiently, knowing full well that Haymitch usually takes his time to answer the door.

“Good morning, Haymitch,” she greeted him with a warm hug.

He grunted in response but brought his arms around her before stepping back to allow her in.

“How have you been?” she asked politely, taking off her coat and scarf.

“The same,” he shrugged, an answer he gave her each time.

Effie tutted in disapproval.

“Perhaps a trip will do you good, as I have often suggested.”

She watched him wave her suggestion away. Haymitch ambled over to the kitchen, limping slightly. It pained her to see him this way but he seemed to have accepted his bad hip from the horrible fall he suffered last winter. The two weeks he spent in the hospital in the City had been a stressful two weeks for her before he was eventually cleared to return to Twelve and she could once more breathe a little better.

He never walked the same since but he still treated her the same, and that was all that mattered.

Effie settled down on the chair she had marked as hers, watching him quietly put the kettle to boil. He took her favourite strawberry teabag from the cupboard above him and set it on the tea cup.

“Have you heard of the plans they have for Four?” she asked.

“The ones in the paper? Yeah, read about it. It’s stupid.”

She couldn’t help but chuckle. Of course he would think that of a carnival.

“I think it will be fun,” she countered, taking the tea cup from him. It was interesting how domestic they have become since the war ended. It was a shame though, she thought, that she was too scarred by the war for them to be anything more. “We are excited for it.”

“Hmm?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Annie, Jo, Finn and myself,” she clarified. “I will be inviting the children when I see them tonight, and of course, you are more than welcome to join if you are so inclined.”

He made a face and pushed a plate of sponge cake in her direction. She nodded her thanks but did not touch it. Knowing him, it could have been from a few days ago and she was much too polite to be checking it for moulds in front of him. It was best to just stay away from it altogether.

They stayed silent with Effie sipping her tea and Haymitch, his coffee. She enjoyed this monthly visit to Twelve, something she had been doing for the past three years since the war ended. They maintained a polite civility, often talking about Katniss and Peeta, about Johanna and Annie as well as her baby in Four. They talked about her work in the City but they never talked about them. Never.

Not since he tried that one time and she completely regressed into herself, throwing away six months’ worth of therapy out of the window. It had scared him off, and he would rather have her mentally healthy and physically well even if she would never become his rather than have her falling apart.

She wasn’t sure if they were both contented with this life, but at least she was. And she wanted to allow herself just this one time to be selfish.

So whenever she was asked, she would always answer that yes, she was happy because it was the truth. She was happy that Haymitch and her were friends; that he seemed to be more open and was able to share more things with her. Maybe that was what they needed; for them to be friends first before anything.

Their friendship was comfortable to her; it was new and yet, so familiar.

So she wasn’t sure if she wanted more. Annie had often asked and she had always shook it off. Being with Haymitch had been something she wanted more than anything else once, a lifetime ago. But now… She was a different person now.

War tended to do that to people – change them.

 “I’ll think about it,” he said, leaning back against this chair. “So, you doing okay?”

“Yes,” she smiled. “Oh, speaking of. I have taken the liberty to restock your multi-vitamins.”

As if on cue, he rolled his eyes but took the bag from her nonetheless. It started out with pills for his hip and since he was taking them, Effie took a step further and got him some vitamins for his general health. Sometimes, Effie thought, he had never imagined that he would survive the Quell, then the Rebellion and finally the war that when he actually did survive, he didn’t dare to take this chance at life for granted.

So he began to make an effort to take better care of himself. He would still wait for his shipment of alcohol that would arrive with her every month but it was no longer drinking to drown his sorrows and dull his memories. He drank to keep the shakes at bay; to keep this body from going into withdrawal because at this point, a withdrawal would likely kill him.

It was progress and Effie was more than willing to take that.

“Have you heard…” she began. “Plutarch is dating.”

He choked on his coffee but cocked his head to the side, waiting to hear the gossips she would bring in with each visit. Effie had certainly gotten used to this – this easy friendship with Haymitch.

Perhaps one day, things would be different but she had made no promises to him and he was not expecting anything from her more than this recurring visit and the time she spent with him.

They were both alive and that was all that mattered to each of them.

[allonsysilvertongue]

Begin Again

Begin Again

The wedding festivities were out of place.

Amongst the ruins of Twelve, on the plot of empty land where the meadow once was, a white tent was erected. It was a small, intimate affair with only five tables. Five tables with ten people to each, and he had the unfortunate luck of being seated next to Plutarch Heavensbee.

Haymitch’s gaze roamed the place, looking for one person in particular. It didn’t take him long to spot her, standing two tables away directly behind Johanna’s chair, her head thrown back in laughter. He wondered, for a moment, what or who could have made her threw all abandon away to laugh without care.

The unreasonable jealous part of him thought it could be that man who had come along with Johanna, Annie and the baby. He didn’t know who he was but he knew from the grapevine that Effie was often at Four with Jo and Annie and his mind couldn’t help but wonder if….

He shook his head, dispelling the dark thoughts.

“You should take it into consideration.”

“Not interested,” Haymitch muttered, waving Plutarch off. His gaze was still riveted on Effie. “Ain’t a politician.”

Sensing that something was distracting his friend, Plutarch looked behind his shoulder and chuckled when he realized.

“If it’s any consolation,” the heavy-set man leaned forward, “taking up that position will almost guarantee having to work closely with Ms. Trinket once more. I would assume that should work out in your favour….”

“It’ll be in the city,” he pointed out.

“The City, yes,” Plutarch confirmed. “But… She will be there.”

Haymitch’s gaze snapped back to Plutarch and with a frown he said, “Crowding her like that won’t work. Quit meddling and find someone else.”

“Well, at the very least, Haymitch, ask her for a dance,” Plutarch commented, slapping Haymitch’s shoulder as he stood up and walked passed. “It’s a wedding after all.”

Haymitch didn’t, of course.

He grabbed a bottle of whiskey and left the tent.

His black shoes that he had taken the pain to shine just this morning was quickly becoming dirty, covered with sand dust and ashes. Taking a swig from his bottle, he took good look around the meadow.  The sun was slowly starting to set, giving the sky a beautiful orange and purplish hue. It was beautiful just as the meadow had once been beautiful. It had been one of his favourite places in Twelve, a long time ago. Back when he still had a girl and a family.

He walked around aimlessly, drinking under the moonlight until he saw a figure emerged from the tent. She walked towards the lone oak tree that remained despite the fire bombings.

Haymitch stood, watching her. Enthralled by how familiar everything was about her. The way she always used her right hand to get whatever it was from the pocket of her jacket or the way she often stood with her left leg slightly forward.

Effie rubbed her hands up and down her arms in the breezy outdoor. Underneath the tree, bare from any leaves, she lighted up a cigarette.

Haymtich approached her quietly.

“We make quite a lonely pair out here,” he broke the silence.

At the sound of his voice, she jumped and shot him a glare when she realized who it was.

“We do,” Effie agreed, leaning against the tree bark.

“You did a great job with the wedding, sweetheart,” he commented. “Never seen Katniss give off that kind of … energy.”

She afforded him a smile and went back to her cigarette, smoking quietly.

When the silence stretched, he took a chance and said softly, his voice almost lost in the wind.  “I miss you.”

He knew she heard him because she sighed.

She dropped the cigarette butt on the ground and he watched that with a frown but she was quick to use her heel to put it out. Effie raised her head to look at him, an expression of regret washed across her face.  She stretched out to give his arm a gentle squeeze before disappearing back into the tent to join the celebration.

He threw the bottle he was holding in frustration.

This was what had become of them; broken, distant, cold.

It was a far cry from the time when he would remain in her bed and she would talk, thinking he was asleep. She would whisper that she loved him. She would tell him her dreams for them; all naïve and silly, as he once thought. He missed it now. He missed her.

Gone were her hopes for them; that the stigma of someone from the Capitol and the District being together would be eradicated so they could live out their lives. She no longer dreamt of them living in his house, having some semblance of being an ordinary, normal couple.

Effie felt betrayed, and rightfully so. But he had no idea what else he could do. Peeta convinced him that what Effie needed was space and time, except it had been twelve months since he brought Katniss home with him from the Capitol.

How much longer was he supposed to wait?

Patience wasn’t exactly his greatest virtue.

She waited for you for years before, a voice whispered. She waited for you that night at the roof top for hours and you left without even an explanation.

Feeling greatly annoyed at himself and with everything, Haymitch left the reception. He had given Katniss away. He had given both the kids his blessings and even took photos with them. He had stayed and mingled as was required of him. He had discharged all responsibilities tonight and there was nothing else expected of him.

He couldn’t stand being in the same room as her, pining after her like a hopeless teenager, when she treated him like a stranger.

So he walked away.

Maybe tomorrow he would be able to find the will to begin again but tonight, he was just tired.

[allonsysilvertongue]

Anchor

Hello everyone! I was recently listening to Next To Me by Imagine Dragons and couldnt help but feel that this song is about hayffie so here you have it, a songfic! Just know that timeline is not in order.

Anchor

Something about the way that you walked into my living room Casually and confident lookin' at the mess I am But still you, still you want me Stress lines and cigarettes, politics, and deficits Late bills and overages, screamin' and hollerin' But still you, still you want me

Haymitch squinted.  The bright glare of the sunlight streaming through the curtain someone had clearly parted open was making the throbbing in his head worse. He tried to speak – to demand that the curtain be pulled shut – but his mouth was dry and he couldn’t form words. There was a cloud over his head, one he couldn't shake free to think.

He moaned instead, reaching out blindly to look for something – a blanket or cushion or a soiled shirt – to cover his face but his hand connected instead with something soft, warm and bony.

Haymitch blinked, trying to form coherent thoughts but it was a slow process. He glanced up and all the misery he felt vanished at the sight of her.

“Sweetheart,” he slurred and he was sure he was grinning.

She wasn’t. Her lips were pursed into a thin line and her jaw was set, but her eyes… She looked sad. His fingers that were curled around her ankle tightened.

“Haymitch,” she sighed, freeing herself from his grip. She stood over him and surveyed the mess he made. “This simply won’t do.”

Then just like that, she was going around his living room cleaning after his mess. She threw empty bottles into a black trash bag; she fluffed old cushions and arranged them on the sofa; she discarded dirty clothes into the hamper and plates into the sink.

He could only watch as she moved around with the familiarity and confidence of someone who knew where things should be and ought to be. When she was done, she returned with a glass of water and a pill to help with his headache and sat next to him on the floor with her back against the sofa.

“I do not like seeing you like this,” she told him.

He fumbled but managed to cover her hand with his own. Clumsily, he rubbed his thumb over her knuckles, silently trying to temper her anger and soothe her.

“It’s who I am,” he shrugged.

“It’s not,” she argued. She shook her hand free to reach for her cigarette and lighted it up right there in his living room. “You need to learn to live.”

He chuckled.

If only it was that easy…

He felt lost after the war, as if he had no purpose. For years, his life had been building up to the Rebellion; to help find the right spark and when the spark turned out to be one of his charges, he vowed to protect her and the boy because they were his to protect. Now it was all over and he did not know the role he should play.

Haymitch figured that sooner or later, Effie would be tired of this; she would be tired of coming to Twelve to find him passed out somewhere with his house in a mess; she would be tired of having to clean so it would be habitable for the entire week that she was visiting; she would be tired of them spending the week, depending on their mood,  fucking and making love before she headed back to the City where she worked for President Paylor; she would be tired of waiting for him to tell her that he wanted something more instead of them acting as they were before the war; she would be tired of them arguing about inane things and her words falling on deaf ears.

He figured she would leave one day but he would always find her there, month after month after month.

Oh, I always let you down You're shattered on the ground But still, I find you there next to me

She trusted him.

He knew that and yet, he couldn’t even secure a passage for her to District Thirteen. He was a fool to think that she would be safe here in the Capitol. He was a fool to trust Plutarch and his equally banal associate.

He should have trusted his gut.

Haymitch brushed her hair away from her face, taking in the pale skin blotched with various bruises, the multiple bandages covering her wounds and the cast on her ankle. She might never be able to walk with heels again and while he thought that was a small price to pay for being alive, he knew she would still be upset.

The hours ticked by and between running to check on Katniss, Peeta and Effie, Haymitch was exhausted. He didn’t realise he had fallen asleep on the armchair until he felt a weight settled on his laps. His eyes flew open and his breathing quickened, a thousand horrible thoughts crossing his mind.

“Stupid,” he muttered. “You know to never do that. I could have hurt you.”

She gazed up at him, looking helpless and loss.

Haymitch sighed but wrapped an arm around her and slowly, she rested her head on his shoulder. He had picked the smallest hospital gown for her and still, it hung off her frame. If that wasn’t evident enough of the tremendous amount of weight she had lost, he barely felt a thing even with her now settled on his lap.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked.

“Feel better this way,” she answered, pressing her cold nose against his neck.

He couldn’t understand how she could still seek solace from him when he had let her down and disappointed her. She was looking at him to pick up her shattered pieces and that thought alone shook him.

I got no innocence, faith ain't no privilege I am a deck of cards, vice or a game of hearts And still you, still you want me

“I’m a monster,” he spat in her face.

“So am I,” she retorted, standing her ground. “Do not come and tell me you have blood on your hands because I do, too. Do you want to see which one of us is the bigger monster, then?”

He stomped away, not that he got far because she grabbed his arm. He yanked it free.

Effie side stepped him to block his path, shoved him back against the wall and kissed him hard.

“You are a difficult and silly man,” she said, biting down on his lower lip. “But you are not driving me away with that drivel about being a monster. We are all guilty of something, Haymitch, but we are also loved by someone somewhere. Do we not deserve it?”

Was he deserving of that?

He didn’t know. All he knew right then was that his fingers digging into her waist would leave a mark tomorrow.

“I got nothin’, sweetheart. Nothing to offer you,” he managed say in between kisses. “I’m just an old drunk with no more faith for the future left.”

“You saved Katniss and Peeta. They lighted up the hope in you that you thought was long gone. Let me in, Haymitch,” she begged. “Believe in me, in us. We’ll teach each other to feel alive.”

He stared at her, this impossibly stubborn woman. She deserved far better and he couldn’t understand the reason she kept coming back to him.

Shared history, a voice whispered.

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She had recently stopping wearing the wigs, and even if they were no longer some bright, obnoxious colours as they were before, he still preferred her this way with her blonde hair falling over her shoulders. She had let it grow over the months and she was beautiful.

“We need to get inside. Annie should be cutting Finn’s cake soon,” she sighed, stepping out of his embrace.

He lamented the loss of her warmth almost immediately.

But when she slipped her hand in his and tugged him forward, he followed. He should realise by now that despite the occasional self-loathing that he felt on bad days, it could never drive her away.

Oh, so thank you for taking a chance on me I know it isn't easy But I hope to be worth it

“Sweetheart?”

The house was quiet which shouldn’t be the case, not with two children in the house. Haymitch unwrapped his scarf and shrugged off his coat to hang them on the hooks by the wall that he had only put up two weeks ago after Effie’s nagging had become too much to bear.

He poked his head into the living room only smiled at the sight.

The eight year old Finn was sprawled on his back on the floor with the television still turned on to one of his favourite cartoons. Effie was curled on the sofa with little Willow Mellark tucked safely by her side.

That would explain the peace and quiet.

To get the children to take an afternoon nap was a difficult thing to do on his own but this was Effie so he shouldn’t really be surprised. She could accomplish anything she sat her mind to.

Depending on when they took the nap, he figured he would at least have another hour or so before one of the children wakes up.

He deposited the grocery on the kitchen counter and started on the snacks. He had prepared it with Effie a few times now to know what to do. When he was done, he brought the plates laden with cookies, fresh milk and hot tea out into the living room.

Haymitch kept away the toys, stack the books nicely on the coffee table and folded the blankets that he had used to make a fort with Finn earlier.

“You’re back.”

“Hey,” he greeted. He walked over to where she was slowly stretching to press a quick kiss on her lips, “cookies and milk for the brats, strawberry tea for you all on the table.”

“Oh, Haymitch,” she smiled. “I made you take the trip to Town -”

“I even cleaned,” he said proudly.

“Oh, you did!” she marvelled.   “And you prepared snacks for them all by yourself….”

“I wouldn’t have if it wasn’t for you.”

“Is that so?”

“They’re lucky I’m fond of their grandmother,” he shrugged.

She laughed and pulled him down for a kiss to thank him for all his efforts. She didn’t have to, not when he should count his lucky stars to have her with him. Effie was always there in nearly every chapter of his life and his only desire is to make it worth for her.

[allonsysilvertongue]

Day 1: Mistletoe & Wine

Hello, Hayffie fandom! Well, I did what I could and I hope you’ll like it :)

The Times Under

The first time Haymitch found himself under mistletoe, his girl had laughed out right and told him that he had to wait until someone passed under it too; someone he could kiss.

He had groaned loudly and declared it stupid but Myra was adamant that tradition be upheld. So he waited, partly because it was easier that way and also because there was something about seeing her perched on her corner, smirking at his predicament.

It would have solved his problem if she could just stand next to him but she would never make it easy for him, no matter how much he told her that they could essentially make out under it.

“I hope it’s one of the boys – Aspen or Toby or Nolan,” she taunted.

“Yeah? Maybe it’ll be a pretty girl that Aspen brings around to this damn gathering. And when I kiss her… We’ll see if you’re still laughing then. Bonus if it makes Aspen red in the face – I bet this was his idea.”

Growing up, they didn’t have much but they knew how to have fun with whatever they have.

“Why are you standing in the middle of the door way, Abernathy? Can you please – oh!”

Myra’s eyes widened and then her smirk deepened. Haymitch glanced at her direction before turning his attention to the girl caught with him.

“Hazelle,” he greeted and with a nonchalant shrug, he said, “tradition says we have to kiss and Myra’s holding me hostage until I see this damn thing through.”

“I am not kissing you,” the dark haired girl muttered.

Regardless, he kissed her - on the cheek, of course, because he was not stupid enough to kiss a girl with a mean right hook.

The second time he found himself in that position was a few years later at a Capitol party he had been commanded to attend.

“Well, the hell you waiting for, Abernathy?” Enobaria demanded. “Get it over with.”

She was clearly impatient because before he could steel himself, she had kissed him full on the mouth.

It wasn’t pleasant.

Her fangs nicked against his bottom lip and her nails scratched the back of his scalp. When she stepped back and released him, he was actually quite relieved.

“Heard you were a good kisser but that’s rubbish,” she scorned.

He would have said something but he felt Effie staring at him from her place two tables away.

The next morning, the gossip magazine published photos of those unfortunate enough to be standing under the mistletoe.

There were a few more instances after but strangely, he was never under one with someone he actually wouldn’t mind kissing. Someone like Trinket, he thought.

Once, it was Mags and like he had done with Hazelle during his teenage years, he kissed her on the cheek with a shake of his head and a fond smile. The year after, it was Johanna Mason who had rolled her eyes, stood on tip top and kissed the corner of his mouth before sauntering away. The time he found himself standing under the mistletoe with Chaff had sent Finnick doubling over, clutching his stomach. Effie had chocked on her drink when she caught sight the two of them. Chaff on the other hand, was grinning as only he could when found himself in such a situation.

“I could kiss you,” his friend laughed raucously. “Get us both out of this. Where would you like to be kissed, buddy? Choose wisely, I ain’t asking twice.”

“We’re just gonna shake hands and that’s it,” Haymitch muttered. “You kiss me I’ll cut off the other hand.”

That only made Chaff laughed harder.

Sometimes, at Christmas parties, his eyes would track Effie just to see if she had found herself under the mistletoe and needed a little help. Perhaps… Well, perhaps, he could ‘accidentally’ walk into one she was under but Effie seemed to have perfected the art of avoiding it altogether. He had never seen her standing under one.

Two years after the war, at one of those Christmas dinner that Peeta put together, he found himself yet again, a victim of it.

“I actually think that you enjoy it,” Johanna said from where she was sat perched by the window with a glass of mulled wine in hand and little Finn playing at her feet. “How many have you kissed over the years?”

“Wrong,” he muttered. “These things are out to get me.”

And because he had the worst rotten luck in the world, Effie Trinket, the only person he wouldn’t mind finding himself under the mistletoe with, walked under it and squeaked when she realised.

Johanna laughed triumphantly and threw a wink at Peeta’s direction. He knew right then that it was a set-up.

“Thought you always managed to avoid these things, sweetheart?” Haymitch muttered.

“When I came, it was all already set up so unfortunately, Haymitch, I never had the opportunity to memorise where all the mistletoes are located.”

He let out a breath. Before the war, he would have kissed her with no hesitation. She would have kissed him back, too. They were good at that… kissing. It was the only time they shut up, the only time they were not arguing.

Except times have changed and she had not really been speaking to him since the war ended other than to exchange polite pleasantries whenever they crossed paths.

“So are you just gonna stand there all day or…?”

“Fuck off, Jo,” Haymitch snapped.

The young woman left the room with a mocking laugh, leaving the two of them to figure their way out through this.

“I know how much you hate these but it is bad luck to walk away without ….” Effie trailed off. She touched the skin of his arm and it sent a jolt right through him. He turned to look at her, noting the way she changed her hairstyle and the small scar on her collar bone. He realised right than that he really missed her. He missed the familiarity and companionship, and it made his heart ached. “Let’s get this over with.”

And just like that, he felt as if he had been slammed back against the wall. The way she said it as if the last thing she wanted was to spend another minute with him, as if she couldn’t wait to get away…

He clenched his jaw and bend forward, kissing her on her right cheek. Then he stomped out of there, away from her and all the festivities. He wasn’t in the mood.

Haymitch spent the remainder of the night by the porch. The wine that Katniss gave him earlier was left forgotten on the banister.

Effie came not long later, cigarette in hand.  

With a glance in her direction, he exhaled slowly and pushing himself up from the chair he had occupied for the past several hours.

“All yours,” he gestured vaguely at the porch.

He brushed past her to make his way inside but she stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“I would have thought you’d kiss me properly.”

He blinked, convinced that he had heard her wrongly. “What?”

“Under the mistletoe… I thought you would have kissed me…. The way you’ve always kissed me.”

“I would have… I didn’t know if you’d wanted it,” he said slowly, suddenly unsure. “Didn’t need to give you another reason to be angry with me.”

“I’m not…” she sighed. “Will you kiss me, please?”

He stared and made no move at all to do as she asked. It made her frown and she was never one to be kept waiting so she huffed impatiently.

“Perhaps you need a little motivation?” she raised an eyebrow. Effie tugged on his wrist and marched them inside until they were once again back under the mistletoe. “Kiss me now.”

The slow smirk spread across his face.

“I like you best when you’re bossy,” he whispered before his arm wound around her waist and he kissed her soundly on the lips.

When they pulled away, Haymitch glanced up, plucked the berry from the sprig of the mistletoe and placed it in her palm.

“That’s the last,” he said. “No one has to kiss under this anymore.”

“Yes,” she nodded, touching the spot where their lips met. She looked up at him in a daze as her fingers closed around the berry.

“I miss you, sweetheart,” he admitted, watching her reaction carefully.

She smiled.

“Me too,” she whispered and reached for his hand. “Come, let us enjoy the holidays.”

I don’t celebrate Christmas so the berry thing was something I read online.

[allonsysilvertongue]

The Sabotage

A few weeks/months back, someone asked me for a teacher!hayffie au which I couldn't write because no inspiration until yesterday. My secondary school chemistry teacher finally got married and i remember being a student in his class with my classmates matchmaking him with our English teacher so that inspired this one-shot.

This is a continuation of the teacher!hayffie I wrote previously - The Proposal. I think I might have written another but I can't remember what it's called.

The Ballad of A Drunk & His Lady: The Sabotage

Nestled just at the first corner of Main Street, the two buildings that made up the only high school in the small town stood imposingly. With school just having been reopened after two burst pipes flooded the school a week ago, the students were behaving rowdily. Not meeting their friends for a week meant that they had a week’s worth of things to catch up on.

Frankly, Haymitch was exhausted and it was only two hours into school. He wished another pipe would burst so he would have another week of respite.

“Did you see Ms. Trinket today?”

At that, Haymitch glanced over his shoulder to see Finnick grinning at him from where he sat at the back of the classroom. Next to him, Annie Cresta was carefully arranging her textbooks and writing materials.

“No,” he answered, turning his attention back to the whiteboard. “Wore something clownish again, did she?”

Somewhere in his class, a snicker rang out. Johanna, he put sound to name.

“She looks exquisite,” Finnick said. “I’m mesmerised.”

He turned just in time to see Johanna roll her eyes at the boy. “You’re disgusting,” she shot at her best friend.

Haymitch remembered being at their age, and having eyes for one or two of his female teachers; a harmless crush which made coming to school a little bit more interesting.

Still, the class’ obsession – not just Finnick’s – with Ms. Effie Trinket had been a source of consternation for him since she joined as a full-time permanent staff nearly a year ago. He found her difficult, stubborn and downright obnoxious, and he would rather much she had stick to teaching one of those elite schools in the City. It would have suited her better than here.

“Enough about her,” Haymitch grumbled, intending to start his lesson as soon as possible. “Alright so… Binomial expansions… Did the exercise I gave – “

“She made us study Sophocles’ works,” Katniss chimed in, clearly disgruntled.

He clenched his jaws, annoyed. But, he couldn’t blame the girl. Katniss preferred the outdoors and having to suffer through a class of literature with the eccentric teacher sporting an odd accent must have been torturous for the girl. Still, he had no regrets tracking the girl down after she was absent from school for two months straight and ensuring that she attended every day. Katniss was work in progress.

“The motherfucker,” Johanna nodded in agreement.

“Hey,” Haymitch warned. He might have some reservations where Effie Trinket was concern but he still wouldn’t stand for such disrespect from students toward another member of the teaching profession. “Watch it or I’ll have you in detention for calling a teacher names.”

“What?” Johanna said in an outraged. “The protagonist fucks his mother, like literally. You should read it.”

Haymitch blinked, surprised.

“What in hell is she teaching you guys? That even part of the syllable?”

“Don’t know,” Finnick shrugged and then the grin split across his face yet again. “Now, why don’t you ask her about it?”

He narrowed his eyes. Unless he was mistaken, his students are purportedly being meddlesome.

“Why don’t you?” Peeta agreed with an enthusiastic nod.

This wasn’t the first time or the isolated incident when his students, especially Finnick and Peeta, had tried to get him to have some form of conversation or contact with their literature teacher.

It was as if they could sense he was going out of his way to avoid her. He was. He was really trying to avoid her as much as he could after the incident in the library, and then again at his place, and again in his car, and the music room they found themselves in two days later, not to mention that time when he had been on his knees eating her out in the teacher’s lounge after school ended. It was mortifying how easily anyone could have walked in on them and the thrill had been addictive.

She had been so good, one of the best he had, not that there were many and truly, the dirty things she could do with her mouth should be outlawed especially given her image as the rule-abiding, strict teacher that she was. The only problem with sex as good as hers and as addictive as her was that he had felt himself craving her at every turn and entertaining inappropriate thoughts at unfortunate times. The last straw was when he had very nearly asked if she could just stay in bed instead of leaving once the deed was done. It sent him into a panic so naturally, he firmly told her that he was not interested – the first lie he ever told to her.

She had not taken that well at first but came around a week or two later to tell him, of course, Mr. Abernathy, you’re absolutely right. We’re teachers and we should be professional about it. It wouldn’t do to mix work with pleasure, wouldn’t do at all. What would the students say if, god forbid, rumours about us started floating around. Better to nip it in the bud. You had the right idea, of course.

So that was that.

XxX

“Binomial expansion is the worst,” Katniss muttered loudly after a nudge in the rib from Peeta.

“What is that, dear?”

Effie watched the students taking their seats in the classroom which she had painstakingly decorated and was profoundly proud of. If memory served her right, they should have just finished a class with Haymitch.

“Oh, Katniss is just upset because Mr. Abernathy has assigned us four pages of binomial expansion problems to work through the weekend. He’s torturing us,” Finnick sighed dramatically. “He doesn’t understand that some of us have work on the weekend. Lifeguard duties – you know about that, don’t you, Miss Trinket? You must have seen me at the beach?”

“Ah, Mr. Odair, I am sure your mathematics teacher just wants the best for you. The exams are not far off, only a few months away,” Effie placated.

“Yeah, months and you don’t give us that much homework,” Johanna pointed out. “A reading here and there, and that’s it.”

“Readings which you failed to do on more than one occasion.”

“Because he gave us so much homework,” Johanna argued. “I gotta do his so I don’t have time to do yours, and if I don’t do his work, he’ll send me to detention.”

“Would you be able to please ask him nicely to have mercy on us?” Peeta requested. He slid a box of cheesecake flavoured muffins in her direction. “These are your favourite, right?”

She tried not to have favourites but Peeta Mellark had always been sweet on her. She came across his family’s bakery on the second week that she moved into town and she swore that no other bakery had cheesetarts and muffins as delicious as theirs.

“Now, now, Mr. Mellark, I really do not want to be stepping on his toes. His class, his discretion but I do see Ms. Mason’s point. It is certainly not fair that he takes up all your time. You do need time to review my lessons.”

“Exactly,” Finnick nodded enthusiastically. “Please talk to him. He has a free period right after our English class, Ms. Trinket.”

XxX

With the bell having just rung out to signal the end of school day, the hallway was packed with students. She walked briskly, pausing only to tap a boy on his shoulder for making out with his girlfriend by the drinking fountain.

By the time she reached the teacher’s lounge, she was quite glad to have made it through students jostling each other in the hallway and talking loudly to be heard in the crowd.

Opening the door to the place, she saw exactly the person she was looking for. He raised his head at the creaking of the door, not at all expecting her to be the one entering.

He stood on his feet the moment she marched in his direction, sensing that whatever this was, it was not going to be good.

“What is this I hear about you giving abnormally heavy homework to the students?

He frowned, trying hard but failing to keep his eyes from wandering down to take in the sight of her endless legs in that pair of 4-inch heels.

“What are you on about?”

“My students are saying that they had little to no time to prepare for my lessons because they were consumed with trying to solve your problems.”

“Yeah, so?” he asked. “Mathematics is more important than learning ‘bout a character who – hold on, what was it the kids said again? – oh right, fucks his mother.”

She sputtered. Out of all the things the students picked up from that play…. Did she not make her point clear to them during lessons?

“That is not the take away from that.”

“Pray tell what is?” he sneered.

“Are you blatantly trying to sabotage my lessons?”

“Sophocles coming out for this term’s exams?” he asked. “Don’t think so. I checked with the head of your English Department.”

“You did what? For what purpose?”

“My kids will be better off knowing how to – “

“Solve algebra? I’ve left school for nearly two decades and not once have I ever found myself in a situation where algebra was needed nor did I ever found the need to plot sine, cosine or tangent on graph paper!”

His sneer only deepened.

“That’s ‘cause you have no ambitions and you’re stuck in a dead end school, and the only thing you’re good at is flaunting your asset all over the school.”

“Assets which you ogle at every opportunity,” she smartly and haughtily reminded him.

He internally cursed his own weakness. She was hot and beautiful, and despite his sneering at her teaching literature, he actually liked listening to her reading off passages. Not that she had ever read it to him, per se, but he had had classes next to her classroom and the walls were not soundproof.

“You want me,” she took a bold step forward. “You are not not interested as you so claim to be.”

Effie scoffed when he stood frozen where he was, his gazing falling to her lips, back to her eyes, and then down towards the neckline of her blouse.

“Oh, you’re very much interested, Mr. Abernathy.”

“Stop this,” he gritted his teeth.

His fingers twitch at his sides. It would be so easy to grab her by the waist, settle her on his desk right now, shove the skirt up and out of the way and fuck her. It would be so easy, and it was very tempting. He could recall with so much clarity what it felt like to be wrapped in her warmth, to slide in and out of her and the taste of her on his lips. His mouth felt parched all of a sudden.

“You stop trying to railroad my lessons and perhaps, I will ensure that my skirt is a little less tight so you will not be tempted,” she whispered, the nail of her index finger raking slightly on the exposed skin on his chest.

He hissed because that was unfair.

“Deal,” he said through gritted teeth. “Dress like a nun tomorrow.”

“Was not what I said,” she laughed. “And truly, even if were to dress more modestly than I already have, do not tell me you don’t remember what we did there.”

Her gaze strayed to her desk. He did not need the reminder of what they had done there but it was too late. The memories assaulted his mind and he forced himself to sit down before she could see the bulge growing in his pants.

He was a lost cause when it came to her.

[allonsysilvertongue]

Hello, I hope your day is going well! I have a prompt for you - I would love to read a story about Effie and her sister Eirene bonding after the war. Maybe Haymitch is struggling to help Effie recover, and calls her sister to help?

sorry this took awhile!

The Ballad of A Drunk & His Lady: MendingBridges

Haymitchwatched her over the rim of his coffee cup, wondering if Effie would be proudat the manner he was treating their guest. He had woken up early to pick her upat the train station, prepared them both a pot of coffee, and had even indulgedin the woman’s need to fill up the silences with small talk. She was just likeEffie in that regard.

Except now, hewas slowly running out of polite topic of conversations to talk about – and hewas trying hard to be exceedingly civil for Effie’s sake – when the soft,familiar footfalls coming down the stairs caught their attention at the sametime. Haymitch glanced up in time to see Effie enter the kitchen and stop deadwhen she saw who was in the kitchen.

“Hey,sweetheart,” Haymitch greeted, rising to his feet.

She stared atthe guest and then at him questioningly before her eyes narrowed to slits.

“Familyreunion… surprise!” He said with an uncertain grin, an attempt at humourwhich fell flat.  He winced. “Sweetheart,she’s come a long way.”

“Clearly,” Effie pursedher lips, her gaze darting to her sister warily.

“Effie,” Eirenestood in front of her and in response, Effie folded her arms, holding herselfstiff as her sister kissed her cheeks. “Haymitch called. It is a goodthing too that he did.”

Behind her, Haymitchstood his ground under Effie’s hardened gaze. He had gone behind her back andit would be something he would need to explain and answer to but to him, it wasthe right thing to do. The only thing left he could think to do.

“I hadPlutarch make contact,” Haymitch said. “She’s your sister,sweetheart. You ain’t letting me in to help and so I thought - ”

“So you thought thatcalling my sister would help?”

“Yeah.”

“Now, now, darling,”Eirene was quick to intervene. “Do not be angry with him. He is onlyconcern about you. Besides, I am so very glad he did.”

“I do apologise for thisinconvenience, Eirene,” Effie said. Frankly, she was not sure where shestood in Eirene’s life now and it would be gratuitous of her to presume that Eirenewanted to be here. “If I had known - ”

“Nonsense! Why don’t youshow me your bedroom? A little dolling up will do you wonders!”

At that, Effie glanced down atherself. She was wearing Haymitch’s oversized shirt and nothing else. In herdefense, she was not expecting guests.

“Excuseus, Haymitch,” Eirene threw him a dazzling smile over her shoulder andHaymitch nodded with a lingering look in Effie’s direction.

Eirene lovesher music and Effie watched on as her sister commandeered the bedroom she sharedwith Haymitch, switching on the radio and turning the volume up. She set thebath and with a smile, beckoned Effie to it, humming quietly while washingEffie’s hair. All the while, Effie’s mind raced, trying to think of somethingto talk about. It was not like her sister to let the time whittle without talking and it occurred to Effie thenthat her sister could be trying to be mindful.

This entirescene was not like them. When they were younger, Effie remembered times whenthe bathroom would be filled with giggles and gossips. Her eyes fluttered shutand she could picture it as clearly as if it just happened the day before –Eirene by the bathroom mirror fixing her mascara while she perched at the edgeof the bathtub -something that would horrify their mother – as she watched hersister doll up. Effie would commit the precise stroke of the brush against hercheek to memory and observe the way Eirene curled her pink hair. All that justso she could emulate them in the future.

“He shouldnot have called you,” Effie broke the silence with a small frown as she sat onthe ottoman in front of the vanity.

Eirene pausedmomentarily before she resumed the task of brushing Effie’s hair.

“He isworried. He cares about you with such open genuinity that I have not seen of inmany men.”

That observationand remarked surprised her.

“That isbecause we are from the Capitol. Everything there is… It’s…”

“You were,” Eirene corrected.

From thereflection in the mirror, Effie caught her sister’s gaze, searching for anysigns that she was being mocked but there was nothing.

“Are you disappointedthat I left?”

“I – I believeyou must have your reasons,” she admitted. “The Capitol is not what it used tobe. Walking down the street is not the same as it was before.”

“I know,”Effie said quietly.

She knew itall too well; the stares and the talks behind her back. Although she supposed,if her sister was stared at, it was for being associated with her. A part ofher was trying to spare her sister that when she left but the selfish part ofher wanted to get away from it all because shecould not handle it.

“I miss youterribly, Effie. I am – I am glad to be given this chance to see you once more.I know that you – “

“The reason Ididn’t call you or look for you…“ Effie interrupted before she could lose hernerve. She had wanted to explain this to her sister since they were alone inthe bathroom. She needed her sisterto understand the reason she abandoned her and her brother’s son. “I – I didn’twant you to see me like this.”

By reflex,her sister’s hand fell from her hair to her shoulder and her thumb brushedagainst the circular mottled skin from where she had been burnt by a cigarette,and Effie tried hard not to flinch. She still flinched when Haymitch kissed herscars at times.  

“What didthey do to you? I have heard stories but I just… I didn’t know that you – “

Effiechuckled, a little bitterly.

“Terriblethings,” she answered, leaving it at that. “I was – Eirene, I was quite certainthat you must have been horribly angry with me for where my loyalties were inthe war or that… That Emmanuel will hate me for what happened to his parents.”

“He is tooyoung to really understand it. He is only eight, Effie,” Eirene tried to assureher. “Our family is far from repaired but he knows you are somewhere andcouldn’t understand why you have not visited. As for me, I was not angry, quitethe contrary in fact. I was worried. I admit I – I do not understand whyyou have to be involved with those rebels but,” she sighed, “you have alwayshad a sound head on your shoulder so I am sure you would be able to explain tome your reasons and I will understand them eventually. I came here with an openmind.”

“I am afraidyou are sorely mistaken. My decision to help them had nothing to do with beinglogical. I love him, Eirene. I have loved him for a long time since he showedme past the glamour and the glitter that we lived in. I have seen my tributesin body bags and when Katniss and Peeta won, they became my victors, same as him. I had to protect them.”

“Of course,”her sister nodded emphatically but this was not something that could be told ina single setting.

She hadhidden years of her life from her family and she would need time to explain itall. Her sister was here and willing to mend broken bridges so she should too.

“Will you stay?”Effie asked. “At least for a few days.”

It was anolive branch and Eirene took it gladly with both hands, her eyes lighting up indelight. “I would love to.”

Knowing thatthey would have time for that later, they put aside the heavy discussion forthe time being. Effie let her sister pick a dress together with a matchingcardigan to cover her scars and Eirene fussed over her like she used to do whenthey were children.

When Haymitchknocked on the door sometime later to see Effie with a smile on her face and alaugh on Eirene’s lips, he paused, taken aback by this change in her. He hadbeen trying to get her out of the house for a walk and fresh air for days, andhe had tried to get her to talk to him but she had kept to herself mostly. Shefelt guilty now for what she had put him through.

“You look…” hestarted before his gaze strayed to Eirene and the words remained locked.

“I’ll leaveyou two to it,” her sister said, taking the hint.

“Peeta is -um – he’s downstairs waiting with Katniss, if you want to walk ahead withthem,” Haymitch told her. “We’ll meet you at Sae’s.”

“Certainly,”Eirene agreed and closed the door behind her.

Once Eirenewas gone, Haymitch’s attention was back on her and he said, “You look good.”

“Just good?”Effie stood in front of him.

He smirked. “Beautiful.”

Effie smiledat him. “I feel good, too. I feel better.”

“You ain’tstill mad at me, right?”

He lookedtorn and she hated that she made him feel this way when all he had been tryingto do was help her so Effie took pity on him. She kissed him, wrapping her armsaround his neck and pressing herself closer when he brought his hands on herwaist.

“I’m not. Iknow you have my best interests in your heart,” Effie rested a hand on herchest, feeling the strong beating of his heart under her palm. “I am glad youcalled her. I am thankful.”

“You stillhave a family, Effs,” he tugged a lock of hair behind her ear. “You should keepthem close.”

“Yes,” sheagreed. “But you must know that you are my family, too.”

Again, hesmirked at her. “Yes,” he mimicked. “I know. That’s why I’m keeping youclose.”

[allonsysilvertongue]

Could you Write a one Shot with this quotes : "Haymitch, it is Midnight" "So What? I wouldn't mind seeing for Once the Capitol Princess turning back into cinderella" ?

I’m curious, anon, where did you get the quote? :)

The Ballad of A Drunk & His Lady: Midnight

Overthe years, there were a few things that Haymitch had grown immune to. Effie’sconstant nagging, for one. Right now, he felt compelled to add her glaring intothe list. The glare she sent his way was enough to make lesser men quake intheir boots but he figured that the worst she could do after the glaring was totalk his ears off.

Trueenough, that was exactly what happened.

Hecouldn’t really blame her. She was having a pleasant night, smiling and talkingto sponsors, but she had been forced to drag him away from the party back tothe Penthouse in order to contain the damage he was causing when he made ascene when he defended Finnick against a particularly entitled Capitol man.

EffieTrinket had grown a lot over the years and because of that, she understood thathe needed to rant about the man and so had ushered them to rooftop buthe was exhausted now. He let her have the floor.

Theglare meant that while she understood why he did what he did, there were stillbetter ways to handle the situation without dragging Twelve’s reputation downthe drain and hinting to the world at large about the deals with prettyvictors.

He stared at her, wondering how she could talknon-stop when it tire him out within five minutes. Shouldn’t the anger andannoyance with him alone make her want to sit down for a breather?

Taking pity on her, Haymitch crossed the distance andshe fell completely silent, staring at the hand he held out to her.

“Are you asking me for a dance?” Effie askedin disbelief. “Right now when I am angry with you?”

“You wouldn’t shut up about missing it,” heshrugged. “And right now when you’re angry with me is the perfect time forit.”

“Let’s be clear about something. I wouldn’t havemissed the dance if it weren’t for you. Noble as your reasons were, the -”

“I know,” he told her before she couldcircle back to the crux of the matter and repeat the entire tirade.“Now, shut up and take my hand. I ain’t offering again.”

She seemed put-out by his tone but stepped forwardanyway. “There is no music,” she complained as she placed the palm of her handin his and another on his shoulder.

“Sweetheart,” he rolled his eyes even astugged her closer, “you don’t need music to dance. Sure yeah, having musicmakes it better but no rule that says you need it…Use your imagination,” hetaunted, leaning in to whisper in her ear.

From then on, the night took a little positive spinand went better than the party. They swayed quietly on their feet, completelyin rhythm to a music that was heard only by the both of them.

The silence was surprisingly comfortable and welcomed.

When he released her from his embrace, he watched heras she took a step back, putting in the distance between them once more. They haddanced before when it was required of escort and mentor during Crowningcelebration but this was different. They had no audience and in a way, it feltmore intimate. Haymitch wisely didnot address it.

Instead, he settled on the floor with his back to thewall and his legs stretched out in front of him. He took a drink from thebottle and then set it next to him.

In turn, Effie took that as a sign that was happened betweenthem moments ago was over. She glanced at him briefly and then shook her head.

His fingers closed around her ankle just as she wasabout to make her way out of the rooftop.

"Running away, already?”

She glanced down where his fingers touched her skin. “Haymitch,it’s midnight. I’m not running away, I’m tired.”

“Liar,” he chuckled. “I’ve seen youparty till morning – this is nothing.”

“Handling you and trying to avoid a disaster inthe making takes quite a toll on me, if you must know,” she pointed out. “Rightnow, I want nothing more than to slip out of this dress and draw myself a warmbath. Or at the very least, take off my wig and get into more comfortableclothes. It’s not a sight you want to see, I can assure you.”

"Oh, she’s human,” he gasped mockingly justto avoid thinking of her naked in a bath.

Her smile at his teasing comments was the fondest hehad ever seen, not that he would ever admit that to her.

“So what if you want to take off your wig or… orremove your make-up, I wouldn’t mind seeing the Capitol princess turning backinto Cinderella.”

Effie blinked at that unexpected remark. They staredat each other and then he patted the space next to him.

“Come on,” he encourage. “Let me see.”

She eyed him and the floor warily.

“The floor won’t kill you. What’s holding youback?”

With a sigh, she took her place and he waited.

“This is improper. This is not a show,” shefrowned.

“Who cares? I just want to see you.”

He had seen her once before without the wig andmake-up through the small opening of her door as he passed by her room twoseasons ago, but she had been so surprised by it that she had shut the door andthe incident was never mentioned or brought up again.

For the second time that night, he held out his handbut this time, to hold her pins as she took them off from her wig.

Somehow, while writing this, my thoughts led to Reflection from Mulan!

[allonsysilvertongue]

Hi, Yesterday I read "Wild Flowers" and I Really love it, could you Write a sequel? Maybe He decided to kiss her or smell her Skin (her nape)?

Some of you asked for a second part, you got it.

The Ballad of A Drunk & His Lady: Wild Flowers IIPart 1

The subtle fragrance of something sweet andfloral wafted through the heavy, musky air. Haymitch stirred, his nose wrinkling.That was the first thing he took note of as he slowly awake from his slumber.

Weird, he thought, because he did not remember passing out insomeone’s garden or anywhere near the meadow but anything was possible when hehad too much to drink.

The throbbing sensation in his head wasuncomfortable enough to be distracting but yet, he was aware of someoneslipping something in his palm. Without pausing to think, he focused on theinsistent voice asking him to swallow the pill and then he tasted the drop ofwater from the rim of the glass that was pressed to his lips. He gulped bothpill and water down, and then hauled himself heavily on his feet.

Haymitch swayed but she was there to hold himsteady. As he was guided to a chair, the high pitch voice became clearer.Plopping down unceremoniously, he cradled his head in his hands and let herramble.

“Itis far too late for a shower now. Not to mention that I would rather not haveyou stumble in the bathroom or trip on your own feet. Heaven knows what wouldhappen if you crack your head open,” the voice nagged. “You’ll miss the Reapingand what will people say if the mentor of Twelve is not present?”

“Fuckoff,” he muttered.

Itwas always nice to know that she cared more about Twelve’s reputation than hiswell-being.

“We’lljust have to make you look presentable enough for the Reaping. I can work withthat,” she said, coming to a stand in front of him. “How’s the headache?”

“Wouldhave gone off faster if you stoppedtalking,” he retorted.

“Yousound like yourself already,” Effie declared with a grin. “Now, stand up.”

Shewas bossy and persistent, and he had to keep swatting her hand away when shekept trying to help him unbutton his shirt, likely because she was impatientwith how slow he was going.

“Giveme the shirt,” he growled.

Inthe end, she stood and watched as he changed from the sweat stained shirt to anew one.

“Sameperfume,” Haymitch mumbled out of the blue.

“Whereis it? I do not know which cologne you use.”

“Notmine, yours - same perfume.”

Itstartled her.

“I– Yes,” Effie touched her wig gingerly, unsure of what to make of hisobservation.

Itwas worst, he decided, to smell the vanilla and wild flowers here in his home.It made him think of her living in a district. It made him picture her walkingthrough the meadow and leaving it smelling of the flowers there. He imaginedher with her natural hair flowing in the wind and a flower tucked behind herear. It made him want to know the colour of her real hair and how she wouldlook like without the wigs… or the make-up. The scent was making him want tosee her as more than just the Effie from the Capitol.

Heshook his head to clear his thoughts.

Thescent only intensified each time the wind blew in his direction from the openkitchen window, and stronger still as she stepped forward to fix his collar.

Heheld his breath.

Shewas so close. Slowly, his fingers began to tap a rhythm against the side of hisleg to distract himself.

Butwhen she lifted her hand to tug a strand of hair from the side of his face, hislungs felt like bursting so he inhaled and the mistake cost him. He caught thewhiff of the scent from her wrist and without any true conscious thought as towhat he was doing he turned his head slightly and pressed a kiss to her wrist.

Effiestilled completely.

Hetouched her hand, his fingers curling around her wrist to lower it to her sideand away from his face.

“Haymitch…”she whispered, her gaze fixed on him.

Hiseyes flickered towards her, then to her neck and that urge from the year beforeroared into life inside of him. Lowering his head down to the side of her neck,his nose brushed against her jaw line and finally, he breathed in the scent ofher.

“Themeadow…” he said, his breath warming her skin, “smells like this.”

[allonsysilvertongue]

Hi, I don't know if you still get prompts, But if you did could you Write this? Haymitch entered in Effie's bathroom because He is searching rum, but Effie goes in and He hide himself meanwhile She is undressing and She is Washing in the bathtub (they are Not lovers) Thank you so much

Hi anon, you sent me the perfumeprompt too, right? I’m gonna call you the Wild Flowers anon henceforth.

The Ballad of A Drunk & His Lady: Rum

Of all the foolish things he had done, this wasprobably one of them.

He wanted to knock his head against the wall for hissheer stupidity. The bathroom was the worst hiding spot because of course EffieTrinket would be heading to the bathroom right after she undressed. Thecountless times she emphasised about practicing about proper hygiene shouldhave clued him on it.

He should have found a better place to hide but timewas a merciless enemy. She was not supposed to be back this early and sowithout thinking too much about it, he had ducked into the bathroom the momentthe heard her high heels clicking against the floor. He disappeared out of hersight in the nick of time.

Haymitch peered through the small gap between the doorand frame as he hid behind the bathroom door.

Effie was in the room by now, in front of the vanity,slowly taking off her earrings and bracelets and keeping them carefully in ajewellery box. His head fell back against the wall, wondering how long he wassupposed to remain hidden.

He checked again.

“Damn,” he cursed and bit his tongue.

Outside, Effie paused, having heard that slightdisturbance but when she saw nothing she let the dark red dress fall. It pooledaround her ankle on the floor and as she stepped out of it, her fingers madequick work to loosen the strings of her corset. She let that fall too, leavingher breasts bare but since she had her back to him, he saw nothing.

Still, he let his gaze trailed down the length of herback, admiring the smooth and flawless skin, taking in the gentle curve of herspine, down to her covered ass and he swallowed in the sight of those long,endless legs. For a moment there, the thought that she might even slip out ofher lace panties made his blood spike.

He knew she was hot but this… Haymitch bit hard onhis lower lip. His stomach stirred and something down his groin twitched inanticipation.

How desperate was he to have the beginning of anarousal at the sight of a naked woman?

Except this was not just any woman. This wasEffie Trinket – a little hard to get, a little out of his league if he wantedto admit it and just a little out of his reach which meant, she was achallenge. That was something he thrived on.

Effie turned around then heading straight for thebathroom. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply.

His mother raised him right and this was wrong.He wasn’t a pervert or a creep. It was especially not fair on her to think thatshe had her privacy when he was right there in the bathroom.

The humming that accompanied the sound of the waterrunning in the bath was unexpected. But that also meant that this washappening. She was about to take a bath – naked - with him in the room.

“Shit,” Haymitch cursed under his breath.

He was screwed. Any second now, when she moved toclose the door, she would find him hiding there.

“Sweetheart,” he called her in a wince.

Her movement ceased.

“I’m coming out alright. I ain’t looking – got my eyesshut and everything. Coming out now,” he repeated the warning before poking hishead out so she could see where he was.

“Haymitch!” she screeched.

There was a sudden burst of movement followed by the rustlingof clothes. That was when he finally opened his eyes to catch a glimpse of herbreasts disappearing under the robe.

“What in the name of Panem are you doing here?”

“Uh – got lost. Wrong room,” he mumbled,rubbing the back of his neck. “Drunk. Gonna leave.”

“You are not drunk. I doubt that. There isnothing in here for you to be drunk on. I made sure of that.”

“Fine,” he scowled. That was the problemthat led him in this situation in the first place. “I came here looking fora bottle of rum. You’re fucking insane hiding all these bottles away. The helldo you think this is? A game? I’m an alcoholic. I need the drink.”

“You are not an alcoholic. Give it a few more years ofthis constant drinking and you are well on your way,” she argued. “I am tryingto help you. Besides, why would you think that you will find any here?“

"Maybe you thought this is the last place I’dlook? How the hell would I know what goes on in that head of yours.”

She pursed her lips. “Get out, Haymitch. Rightnow.”

“Aw, come on. Don’t make me leave here emptyhanded. At least tell me where it is.”

“One thing is for certain, it is not here in thisbathroom,” she hissed. “Get out, Haymitch.”

That was the end of the conversation and he knew it,too. She was clearly annoyed and there would not be any sympathy tonight forhim. If he needed a drink, he wouldn’t get it from wherever Effie had hid it.

“Let me repeat myself – leave.”

His eyes twinkled as he said, “You’re hot. Hotter whenyou’re mad.”

As he passed by her, he tugged on the drawstring tolet her robe fall open and continued walking towards the door without a lookback.

“Flattery will not get you what you want,”she shouted after him.

At the door to her bedroom, he paused to get a wordin.

“Sweetheart, you don’t have the faintest ideawhat I want right now.”

From the way he let his eyes raked over hers, she mightjust know what he meant.

[allonsysilvertongue]

Hi, I don't know if you still get prompts but if you do could you Write something about a new Effie's perfume that Haymitch Really loves and He couldn't stay in the Same room with her because He Wants to kiss her? (They are Not lover)

The Ballad of A Drunk & His Lady: Wild Flowers

Haymitchcould always tell the moment that Effie entered the room.

Theclicking of her heels was the first indicator followed by her scent. He knew itwas her before she even came into view. The smell of her perfume was alwaysstrong, heady, distinctive and downright overwhelming. He hated it. It piercedhis nose and he was quite adamant that prolonged exposure lead to him nursing aheadache. Sometimes, he turned it into a game. Which would make his head spinfirst – the perfume or her high pitch voice?

The smell of herdesigner perfume was seared into his memory and it was not something he wouldeasily forget so he knew when she changed her perfume.

It was sweet thistime; subtle, even pleasant. When she rounded the sofa where he was sprawledwith a drink to give him a passing glance, he caught a whiff of it. Vanilla, he thought. But there wassomething else; something that smelt of wild flowers from his childhood whenthe meadow was a place he often frequented.

“The hell are youwearing?” he muttered under his breath.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Your scent… Yourperfume – what the hell is it?”

“Oh!” she beamed as ifpleased he noticed at all. “Isn’t it exotic?”

Clearly, what wasexotic to her was home to him and the smell of it on her…

Haymitch swallowedhard before forcing himself to take a drink lest he said something that might embarrasshim.

Thinking that theconversation was over, Effie moved closer, not on purpose, but to take thepapers from the coffee table. In response to her proximity, Haymitch curled hisfingers tighter around the bottle. If he were to move his finger an inch to theleft, it would brush against the naked skin just above her knee which her dressdid not cover.

“You did not sign onthis yet,” she waved the paper as she sat next to him. “I instructed you to.”

Effie must havesprayed it on her wrist too, he deduced because the smell became stronger asher hand rose in front of his face.

He glanced surreptitiouslyin her direction to see that she was intently reading the fine print on thepaper. Taking that opportunity, he allowed his gaze to linger on her neck,taking in the delicate curve as she bend forward slightly in her seat. Hewondered then if she sprayed some on her neck, too. The sudden urge to scootforward and nuzzle the spot just beneath her jaw with his nose to breath in herscent engulfed him completely. He would like it very much to kiss the hollow ofher throat and taste the sweet perfume on her skin. The thought stopped himshort.

Haymitch blinked.

Whatthe hell is wrong with you?

In a bid to distracthimself, he grabbed the paper from her. She made it clear that she thought itwas rude to snatch it off her but she then wordlessly handed him the pen and hesigned the forms to release the two bodies of their dead tributes to be takenback to Twelve.

“Leave me alone,” hemuttered.

That earned him adisapproving look.

“You’re in a moodtoday,” she commented.

“Considering we losttwo tributes ten minutes into the games, yeah, sweetheart, I’m in a fuckingmood.”

“Fine,” she clickedher tongue. “See you next year.”

He exhaled loudlythrough his nose; clenching and unclenching his fingers until the odd desire togo after her just to kiss her dissipated. It wasn’t an easy feat because longafter she had shut the door to her room, the thought still played in his mind –just like her perfume, she lingered even though she was already gone.

[allonsysilvertongue]

Hello! I hope you are having a nice weekend! I have a prompt, it's a bit silly, so I understand if you don't want to do it, but I thought you would make it fun! Kind of would like to read something in which Effie needs help with her hair for whatever reason, and Haymitch is the only one around. Take it whichever direction you feel - scissors mishap? Hair dye mix up? Thought it might be funny to read!

A Ballad of A Drunk & His Lady: A Pesky Problem

If there was one thing he missed dearly butwould never admit especially now, was her long hair. He remembered a time,especially during the victory tour, when he would spend it in bed with her,running his fingers through her silky blonde locks. The repetitive movement wascalming to him and even if her hair was never her favourite part of herself, itwas one of his.

After the war, he understood the need to keepher hair short, very short. She hadinsisted and at first, he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why. He wouldhave thought that after her release from Thirteen’s medical team that she wouldgrow it out but that had not been the case and when he asked, her reply stunnedhim silence. Keeping her hair short meant that no one could grab her by herhair the way they did in prison. After that, he let her be even if he missedher hair.

Now, it was work in progress.

As the months passed and she slowly begun tolet it sink in that she was safe here in Twelve with Haymitch, Katniss andPeeta, she was starting to cautiously grow her hair once more. Still, it wasnever the length it used to be. Haymitch doubted that she would ever let itgrow passed her shoulder again but where there was progress in her healing, hewould take it.

Her hair now had grown past her chin, a little aboveher shoulder and so far, she had not said anything about cutting it shortagain.

He did not bring it up either.

But that afternoon, he walked into the livingroom and she followed him into the kitchen with a request he never thought hewould hear.

“I was thinking…” she started, “that I mightwant to dye my hair.”

At that, he shot her a look.

“Why?” he queried. “You never believe in dyeingyour hair which is why you’ve always had a wig on before, yeah?”

“Well, yes, but I did that partly to spite mymother. She had always insisted that I should give some colour to my hair whenI did not wish to. Wigs solved that problem. Now, my decision is my own and Iwant… I want to see something different,” she patted her hair uncertainly. “Willyou help me with it?”

“You sure? You don’t wanna go to a salon? Get aprofessional to do it? They ain’t gonna hurt you.”

Her hair was her crown and she would never leta stranger touch it again. It was one of the things she still had difficulties acclimatingherself to after her ordeal.

“I trust you,” she told him.

That was how he found himself standing behindher with a scissors in his hand as she sat on the chair they had pulled intothe bathroom. The plan was to give the ends of her hair a slight trim to getrid of any split ends. They had also gotten Katniss to buy a pack of dye –strawberry blonde. As much as he loved the honey blonde look on her, he wasquite frankly looking forward to this change.

“Your back’s all done,” he announced.

His workmanship was far from perfect. It lookeda little jagged and uneven but Effie had not thrown a fit. She even seemedpleased by it, telling him that she could pass it off as the layered look.

“Gonna do your front now.”

“Be very careful,” she warned because thistime, it mattered greatly. “Not too short. I want to be able to tuck it behindmy ears and too short would mean having my hair in my eyes.”

“Sure.”

Effie rewarded him with a smile and which hereturned with a smirk as he leaned forward to press a kiss on her lips. When hestraightened up, Haymitch combed a portion of her hair to the front – the portionhe wanted to snip off – and set the scissors on it.

She screamed, loud and piercing, and jolted inher seat.

It startled him and for a moment he thought hehad accidentally cut her skin.

“What the fuck?” he demanded, jumping back fromher.

“Cockroach!”

Effie was already on the chair, standing precariouslyon it and she was pointing down at the bathroom floor.

“Kill it, Haymitch,” she demanded. “Kill it!Don’t let it come near me!”

If the cockroach came anywhere near the legs ofthe chair, Haymitch was sure she would jump to the left and into the bathtubwithout a second thought, and that he couldn’t risk. She could miscalculate everythingand hit her head.

“Stop screaming!” he shouted because herscreaming was not helping matters. “It’s a fucking cockroach. It won’t killyou.”

“It won’t if you kill it first!” she retorted.

It was almost comical because she still had thered plastic bag that he had cut a hole the size of her head so that it wouldprotect her clothes from the hair and the dye.

“Haymitch, I swear it is out to get me!”

“For fuck’s sake, stay still. You’re gonna loseyour fucking balance.”

By then, he had grabbed a face towel off therack and threw it over the pest. He saw the cockroach trying to wriggle free sohe stepped on it.

“It’s dead.”

“You sure?”

He grunted under his breath but picked thetowel up and turned it over in his hand to show her and squashed animal.

“That is absolutely disgusting. That face towelis beyond salvation. We’ll have to burn it.”

“Or we can just simply throw it away instead ofbeing dramatic,” he rolled his eyes.

With the cockroach gone and the bathroomdecidedly calmer, Haymitch turned around to look at her and he stared. Hestared hard. Effie had already gotten down from the chair.

Then he started laughing silently, his shouldershaking with mirth. Effie gave him a confused look.

“Oh, fuck,” he gasped in between the quietlaughter. “I hate to be you.”

Sensing that it was her he was laughing at, she became self-conscious and approachedthe mirror. That was when she started screaming all over again.

“What have you done?!” she screeched.

She had a good reason to react that way. Agenerous portion of her front hair was gone. It was way above her eyebrows andshe looked… There was no other way to put it, he thought, she looked comical.

“You did it,” he said defensively. “Youscreamed and that happened,” he waved her hand in the direction of her hair.

“Haymitch, this is – “

“It’ll grow,” he tried to appease her

He was no longer laughing. She lookedheartbroken and terrible sad. Her fingers kept prodding her hair and pulling itforward as if by that action alone, it would miraculously grow longer.

“Haymitch…” she whined.

“It’ll grow, sweetheart,” he repeated and tookher into his arms. He kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry, alright.”

The hilarity was gone and now, he was mostlyworried that this might trigger some memories of prison, when her hair formedpart of her nightmare so he held her close.

“Look, I’ll go with you to the salon. We’ll getit fix.”

“No,” Effie shook her head. “I’ll – I’ll wrap ascarf around it. We – We’ll save the hair dye for next time.”

“Alright,” he nodded. “Hey,” tilted her chinup. “You’re still beautiful, yeah? Nothing’s changed.”

“You’re saying that to make me feel better.”

“Nah, I ain’t that sort. It’s the truth. You’rebeautiful and your hair will grow.”

“I do hate cockroaches, Haymitch. This is whywe should have a cat.”

“Nice try,” he chuckled.

Thanks for the prompt anon. Not sure I pulled of the funny, felt more like angst/comfort to me, still, I hope you like it :)

[allonsysilvertongue]

Wild Flowers

I’ve got a few people asking for a part 3 so this is the last and final part to the Wild Flowers.

The Ballad of A Drunk & His Lady: Wild Flowers (Part III) Part II

The lights in the Penthouse was turned to a low dim, sufficient enough to cast a comfortable glow in the living room where Haymitch was sitting at the very end of the sofa with Effie at the other opposite. After what happened in his kitchen that morning, they were both wisely keeping their distance, Haymitch because he did not trust himself to be near her and Effie because she was not sure what to make of the incident.

What happened was foolish. He had let his guard down when he kissed her neck. Being vulnerable around her made him uncomfortable and he was trying to avoid any further incident.

Effie was intently watching the recaps of the Reaping as if the very fact that he had acted out of character around her was not bothering her at all.

It annoyed him.

Shouldn't she be just as affected the way her perfume was bothering him? Even now, he was focused on trying to regulate his breathing. His glass of whiskey was strategically placed in front of his face under his nose and he had been inhaling the fumes for the past half an hour. So far, it was working. The whiskey was masking the smell of wild flowers wafting off her.

"Finnick Odair," she muttered under her breath which caught his attention. He turned his gaze to the television and at that moment, Effie said out loud what he was thinking. "He is far too handsome."

Exactly, he thought, and for the boy’s sake, Haymitch hoped that he wouldn't win because death would be better than what was waiting for him once he came off age after his win.

Effie made a few more notes of the tributes on her tablet and when the Reaping ended, she left the living room with a goodnight in his direction. He breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, he set his glass down and propped his feet on the table.

It did not take long for Chaff to emerge from the elevator and into the Penthouse.

"Finally, right?" Chaff rolled his eyes and Haymitch understood what he meant by it – that he was finally freed from having to sit through the recaps. "So, we gonna go to a bar or what?"

Chuckling, Haymitch pushed himself up.

The usual bar they frequented was a distance away from the City Circle and was unusually crowded that night. He heard whispers of Finnick Odair's name, excited murmurs and initial talks of placing bets.

It was not unusual for the Capitol to be excited about a particular tribute but to place bets on a young tribute even before training started was taking it too far. There was something about that boy that was giving the Capitols a blood rush.

Chaff nudged him in the ribs and nodded at a pair of ladies standing in a corner. He moved towards them and Haymitch followed, out of the need to get out of blocking the door more than his interest in those women.

"This place is hot," Chaff said as he sidled up to them. "Like you. Both of you."

Haymitch groaned and abruptly turned around to get himself a drink and put in some distance between him and his friend. That pick-up line was frankly, embarrassing and he did not want to know if the women fell for it.

Except, sure enough, Chaff send one of the women after him. Haymitch bought her a drink simply because he thought it was the right thing to do. He nodded where appropriate as she talked. When she touched his arm and ran her hand up his shoulder with a suggestive smile etched on her lips, he did not react to it. On any other occasion, depending on his mood, he would have flirted right back but tonight... He wasn't into it. He turned his head away slightly.

Haymitch was beginning to think that he was doomed to spend his entire time in the Capitol this season turning his nose up in an attempt to avoid women’s perfume because he was doing the same right now but for an entirely different reason than him trying to evade Effie’s perfume.

The woman – whose name he had already forgotten – smelt of strong, cheap perfume. It was a far cry from the classy perfumes Effie wore and Haymitch was finding it difficult to breath. When she leaned in closer to him, the scent became so overpoweringly harsh that it caught in his throat. He stood up abruptly, surprising her, and he left without a word.

When he burst out of the bar, the fresh air was a welcome change that he decided to enjoy it by walking back to the Penthouse. By the time he reached, he was in a much better mood but stopped short when he saw Effie sitting in the kitchen with a cup of tea in her hand.

She eyed him, likely gauging to see just how drunk he was.

He wasn’t. At least, he wasn’t drunk enough to face her alone in the middle of the night when he spent half the time walking home plotting of a way to steal a piece of her clothing just so he could have her smell. It was insane and downright alarming that he was becoming so obsessed with it.

“Were you waiting for me? I’m touched,” he mocked.

Effie was already in a robe but since she was out of her bedroom, likely waiting to hear of any troubles he might have caused, the wig remained as did a light dusting of make-up. With the robe on, it also meant that he couldn’t smell the wild flowers on her anymore. He understood of course that she wouldn’t be spraying any perfume when she was ready to go to bed but still, such a shame, he thought.

He liked those wild flowers on her.

Emboldened now by the fact that the temptation was not present, Haymitch stepped closer. He walked right behind her to the kitchen counter to get himself a cup and that was when he caught a whiff of something else entirely, something softer and creamier, but equally just as enticing as the wild flowers. It still smelt sweet to him.

It took him awhile to realize that it was her soap. The Capitol loved their floral soap which he tended to avoid at all costs.

Haymitch set his glass down. This was proving to be another problem. With his back to her, Haymitch took a deep breath.

It wasn’t helping. The breathing, the counting down to ten was not helping. The smell was taking up his entire attention. It was front and center.

He turned abruptly and crossed the small distance to stand directly behind her. Effie must have sensed his presence because her grip on the cup tightened in anticipation.

“Is it rose?” he asked in a low voice that reverberated in the empty kitchen. He couldn’t stand it if it were.

“It’s not.”

His hand rose and rested on her shoulder. Effie didn’t move. At all. She sat still, waiting to see what he would do.

He hooked a finger on the collar of the robe and tugged it down to expose her right shoulder. In a daze, he dropped a kiss on it and then another until it reached the curve of her neck and shoulder. Haymitch inhaled the scent. Instead of the wild and exotic, this floral smell mixed with her natural scent was calming. It didn’t make his blood rush but it made him want to do something equally stupid like to gently touch and caress her.

“You – You have a thing for flowers,” she noted, her own breath hitching in response to her touch.

“No,” he denied in a growl, but when she turned in her seat to face him, he said, “I might. I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it until – don’t wear that perfume anymore, those wild flowers.”

“Why?” she asked in a challenge. “You don’t get to say in what I choose to use.”

There was something in the way she was staring at him with those blue eyes that twinkled with a hint of stubbornness and defiance that made his stomach stir. He placed a finger under her chin to hold her in place.

“Because it’s making me want to do things with you and I wouldn’t know what I’d do if – if I smell it on you again. It’s a line I ain’t willing to cross, a line we shouldn’t cross.”

“Would it be so bad if the lines were blurred?”

“Don’t,” he warned.

“Don’t what Haymitch?” she taunted. “Don’t wear the perfume? Or was that really meant for you? Don’t kiss me… Was that it? Because you want to, don’t you?”

He clenched his jaws and gritted his teeth.

“Do it,” she demanded. “Give in to it. There is no point in torturing yourself and denying yourself that.”

The grip he had on her chin tightened in reflex as his gaze flickered to her. She stared at him unyielding and the smell of the floral soap mixed with the tension in the air was too much even for him who prided himself in his self-control.

The kiss was bruising and rough which she returned in equal fervor. It grew heated and messy rather quickly, and when she bit on his bottom lip, he pushed back. He was clutching the edge of the table to steady himself while the other had moved from her chin to cradle the back of her head. His body was trapping her in between him and the table behind her. At some point, she had tried to stand up and wrestle control but he made sure she remained seated as he kissed her until they were both breathless, panting, and mortified by the intensity of it.

For years after that, he never smelt the wild flowers on her anymore. It didn’t mean he wanted her any less because the wild flowers was just the catalyst. When she did wear it again years later after the war, it was always a surety that they would end up behind closed doors for hours.

I have this long standing hc that Haymitch has a thing for flowers after seeing him sniff them in THG & CF.

[allonsysilvertongue]

Ignorance Is Bliss. Or Is It?

The Ballad of A Drunk & His Lady: Ignorance Is Bliss. Or Is It?

Effie stirred, taking awhile to accustom herself to the unfamiliar surroundings. Slowly, the memory trickled in and she turned to look at the man sleeping next to her. Haymitch was a dead weight with his arm slung across her stomach and his leg hooked over hers.

Being here in his house, in his bed and the rarity of such occasion made it feel so much like a one night stand except Effie knew it wasn’t. Her heart grew heavy, knowing that they would never have more moments like this in his house.

Her stomach grumbled, reminding him of the reason she was awake in the first place.

She tried to push him off her carefully, finding a way to wriggle out of his embrace without waking him up.

It was futile. With a sigh, she shook his shoulder gently, quite aware of what could happen if she were to startle him. Thankfully, his knife was not within his reach.

“I have to go,” she whispered when he groused in annoyance.

“No,” he tightened his hold on her.

She loved it when he was in this state; half asleep to be truly and fully conscious of his actions. He was often more affectionate and clingy, so very unlike him when he was sober and alert.

“Stay,” Haymitch insisted.

“I’m famished. I should get back to the train in any case. I cannot be seen coming from your house. What will people say?” she tried to rationalize.

Katniss might be oblivious but Peeta and Mrs. Everdeen certainly wouldn’t be, and she would have to face the lot of them for the Reaping. Although, to be fair, the issue of her sneaking out of Haymitch’s house would be the least of everyone’s worry.

“There will be something to eat in the train,” she continued. “I’m hungry, Haymitch. I haven’t had anything since lunch.”

He opened an eye to look at her and then rolled on his back, freeing her from his hold.

“Me too,” he grumbled, pushing himself to his elbows. “The things we did… It makes a man hungry, sweetheart.”

She couldn’t help but smile fondly at him. Almost without thinking, she brushed her fingers through the lock of his hair.

“Stop it,” he caught her wrist with a frown.

The sudden rough movement threw her a little off guard but she matched his frown with one of her own.

“I might never get the chance to do this again,” she told him. She saw the look in his eyes and almost wished it back but the words were already out there. “We may never – “

“Stop that,” Haymitch rebuked. “We’ve talked about this. It’s got to be me. I can’t let Peeta go, Effs. I thought you understand this.”

“I know, I do,” she nodded. “And you’ve promised Katniss to keep him safe. I know, Haymitch.”

“Good. You gotta be stronger than this, sweetheart,” he said tucking her hair behind her ear.

When he had told her about his promise to Katniss, she had been upset. She had been angry with Katniss even; angry that she dared to ask that of Haymitch. But when she had calmed down – after he had fucked her and calmed her down – Effie realized that this was the only way. He had saved them once so if there was a way he could save them both again, he would never let the children go through what they went before.

“Alright, come on,” he tugged on her wrist, this time rubbing his thumb gently over the spot where he had grabbed earlier. “You said you’re hungry, yeah?”

She laughed at that.

“I am but I am not eating anything from your house, Haymitch,” she teased but followed him out of the bedroom anyway. “Who knows what had gone bad without you being any the wiser…”

“I’ll have you know, sweetheart, that since Katniss put Hazelle on housekeeping duties, nothing has gone bad around here,” he assured as they entered the kitchen.

He grabbed some bread and cheese from the cupboard and a bottle of wine from another. Effie made to take two glasses for the wine but realized that she had no idea where they were being kept. He nudged her towards the fireplace. He had a fire going the night before but it was dying and she wondered why he was kneeling in front of the fireplace to start the fire once more because she was leaving soon anyway.

“Sit with me,” he requested over his shoulder. “Come on, just relax. It’s at least two more hours or something before the sun comes up. It’s still dark out there – plenty of time for you to sneak back to the train.”

He was already settled on the floor and the warmth from the fire was far too tempting for her to argue too much so she sat next to him.

Effie reached out for the bread only for Haymitch to slap her hand away. “Wait,” he rolled his eyes.

He toasted the bread over the fire which made Effie frown. He could have used the toaster in the kitchen, couldn’t he? It seemed a little archaic.

She was about to make a remark when he took the bread away from the fire, tore off a piece and blew on it to cool it down. Her eyes widened in surprise when he pressed the bread against her lips, his intentions clear. He was trying to feed her. It was odd for her. Haymitch had never done anything like this before.

But he was patiently waiting, watching her quietly so she parted her lips for the bread and the cheese that he gave her next.

“I believe it is only right that I return the favour,” she said as she looked at him.

There was a look in his eyes, intent and contemplative. It made her shiver to be looked at that way, as if she was the only one that mattered currently.

“What’s gotten into you?” she asked, wiping the crumbs off his lower lip.

He blinked, looking away before finding her gaze again. She could get lost in the greys of his eyes, she thought.

Could die in the next few days, sweetheart,” he whispered, lips inches away from hers.

His hand rose to the back of her neck and he curled his fingers on her nape, pulling her slowly forward until he could kiss her.

“I’m scared, Haymitch,” she admitted in the cover of the night. “I’m scared for you. I – I don’t want to –“

He didn’t let her finish and he didn’t answer her. Instead he let his hand wander under her blouse again.

XxX

“I do apologise for my tardiness,” she said, taking off her scarf and coat as she entered Katniss’ house. “What’s this about?”

Since she was late, through no fault of her own but the train was delayed in District Eight, nobody answered her question.

It would seem that she had arrived in the middle of the ceremony. Peeta and Katniss had invited her two weeks ago but wouldn’t say what it was for except that it was important to them. Of course, whatever was important to the children was important to her as well. She had tried asking if there was anything she could help with but the children had assured her that only her presence was required. She wished she had taken an earlier train, even if it meant arriving a day early. She could have checked in into one of the motels or guesthouses.

Katniss’ living room was clean and cozy. It felt homely with the picture frames, paintings and vases of flowers decorating the room. The fireplace was lit up and there were rugs as well as cushions on the floor. Each of the guests invited was holding a glass of wine.

The atmosphere in the room was peaceful. Those in the room seemed relaxed even if there was an air of anticipation. Effie chanced a glance over at Haymitch to see that he had cleaned up well. His beard was neatly trimmed and his hair which was usually in a mess had been combed. He even made an effort with his clothes, Effie noted. She had not seen him since the day he left for Twelve with Katniss and he had filled out a bit since then. He looked healthy. Life seemed to suit him well.

Life after the war seemed to suit every one well. Even Johanna was smiling, with Finn seated on her lap. The boy was quiet, distracted by a long piece of string Johanna keep spooling and unspooling for him.

“Katniss, it’s time,” Peeta said, holding his hand out to her.

She took his hand and joined him in front of the fireplace, the both of them knelt on the red cushions. To his right, Haymitch handed each of them a steel skewer with a piece of bread skewed to its front and stepped back. They held it over the fire.

Effie smiled, even as she tried to hide the sudden feeling of discomfort that had creeped in. The scene was oddly familiar, like a memory from the past.

With the bread now off the fire, still kneeling, the kids turned to face each other. Peeta was smiling and Katniss… Effie had never seen Katniss that way; looking at Peeta with a glimmer of fondness. She was calm; shoulders relaxed and her gaze focused solely on Peeta instead of darting everywhere for any signs of danger.

Annie stepped forward to hand them each a glass of wine, and just like Haymitch had done before, she stepped back.

“Here,” Johanna pressed a glass into her hand.

Smiling, Katniss and Peeta raised their glasses, as did everyone.

“To the newly wed,” Greasy Sae’s said, startling Effie. “May a thousand years of happiness shine upon you both and your union be blessed with children.”

Katniss reeled in surprise.

A wedding?!

She had just attended a wedding. Had she not been in this exact situation in front of a fireplace, and the bread, and the wine, just three years ago on the morning of the Third Quarter Quell’s Reaping?

“To Katniss and Peeta,” everyone toasted.

Her gaze darted to Haymitch, eyes wide in shock and panic. He caught her gaze but promptly looked away, keeping himself busy by refilling everyone’s wine glass.

He avoided her. She was well aware that he was avoiding her because each time she tried to move closer, he moved away, immersing himself with the surrounding conversation which Effie knew from all the years spent working together was not something Haymitch enjoyed.

She seized her chance when she spotted him making his way to the empty kitchen. Effie excused herself from the conversation with Annie and went after him. He was searching the top cabinet when she walked in, fingers curling around the neck of the whiskey bottle when Effie closed the cabinet door.

He turned towards her to see her glaring at him, arms folded.

“Would it be wrong and presumptuous of me to say that you’ve been avoiding your wife?” she said coolly.

“Yeah.”

“Which would that be? The part where you’re avoiding me or the part where I’m your wife?” she crossed her arms.

“Listen,” he raised his eyes to meet hers briefly. “Now’s not the time to talk about it. The kids – “

“Are married,” she finished him off. “Apparently, so did we three years ago. We had a marriage ceremony by your district’s customs and you did not even think to tell me?

“Wouldn’t make a difference,” he muttered.

“What was that?” she demanded. “It wouldn’t make a difference?”

She wanted to grab the nearest thing and hurl it at him but she refrained herself. She was furious. How could he have kept her in the dark over something so important and life-changing? It felt like he had robbed an important decision and aspect of her life.

“We’ve been married for three years, Haymitch,” she hissed. “Three years!”

 “It’s just some stupid custom and tradition, alright,” he murmured. To his credit, his voice had a hint of guilt.

She sputtered, truly lost for words.

“A tradition is not stupid,” she countered. “It is rooted in – in … Oh, you are so unbelievable, Haymitch! I have half a mind to strangle you until you’ve regained some shred of common sense.”

“We didn’t register it,” he tried another point of argument. “Relax about it already.”

“No, oh no,” she laughed. If anyone were to walk in now, Effie was sure, she was the image of the mentally unstable. “I will not relax about it. I spent that last one year angry at you and another after that trying to piece my life together which by the way, involved me thinking hard about where I want you in my life. We spend the last one year being cordially civil with one another and you didn’t say a word about this, Haymitch. Not a word.”

“Exactly why I didn’t,” he thundered. “Because you’re finally talking to me, Effs. I finally felt as if I had you back. Look, you have a right to be angry with me. I gave you a lot of reasons to be furious and if you ain’t ever gonna forgive me, it’s right too.”

He rubbed his face tiredly.

“It doesn’t matter. The toasting and what it symbolize…. I don’t hold you to it. Truth is… I was selfish,” he chuckled derisively. “I thought I was gonna die, yeah? And I – I wanted to make you mine.”

Despite herself, Effie shivered at that word. She had never thought Haymitch would ever want her that way she wanted him.

“I wanted to have something,” he said.

“Why didn’t you tell me then? Why didn’t you tell me what we were doing?”

He shook his head and for the first time since they started this conversation, he took a drink from the bottle he was holding.

“Because if you knew, and if I died after, you’d be broken, sweetheart.”

There was some truth in that.

“I would still be broken whether or not we were – are – married,” she told him.

He raised his head, giving her a pained smile.

“I know,” he admitted quietly. “I’m sorry. Shit,” he cursed. “What I did, it wasn’t fair to you so … In all honesty, I know you’re tryin’ to get on with your life. You’re tryin’ to find your footin’ and move on. I want that for you, sweetheart. And if there’s a guy in the City,” he seemed almost visibly in pain just trying to get that word out, “that you know, you’re seeing… It doesn’t – What I’m tryin’ to say is, I don’t hold you to that sham of a marriage we had. It ain’t binding in the eyes of the law. You’re free. You were never tied to me.”

“That is true. It might not be legally binding but you heard them out there. No one feels married until they had had their toasting. Which means to the people here, and you by that extension, the toasting carries a heavier meaning and weight than any legal document.”

“And I’m telling you that I’m not holding you to it,” he growled in frustration. “So go.”

“Don’t do this, Haymitch,” she pleaded, reaching out to touch him. “Do you want us to be married? Tell me the truth, please. Do you still want what you wanted three years ago?”

He looked affronted, as if he had never expected to be asked that question. When had anyone ever asked him what he wants?

Effie studied him, waiting.

“What do you want, Haymitch? More than anything else in the world, what do you want?”

“Come on,” he tugged his hand free from her grip. “This is stupid.”

“It’s not. Answer the question, please.”

“A proper shot at life,” he told her truthfully once he realized that she would not budge. “And it wouldn’t mean shit without you, sweetheart.”

“So… What does that mean? Do you – Do you want me?”

“Yeah, course I do,” he nodded, looking down at his boots. “Every single day.”

“Okay,” she said. In a declarative tone, without giving him much room for argument, she told him. “I want to give this a try.”

“Being married?” he blinked.

She shot him a glare, and if looks could kill, he would have been dead.

“Being together,” Effie said. “We give that a shot and then we’ll do the toasting. Properly this time.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he repeated and he must have seen that she was about to argue because he pulled her close, a hand resting on her hip. She could feel his thumb drawing random, soothing circles on her hip bone. “It doesn’t matter to me if we’re married or not as long as you’re here.”

[allonsysilvertongue]

The Ballad of A Drunk & His Lady: Protective Custody

AU where Effie is an informant and Haymitch is an agent tasked to keep her safe

The Ballad of A Drunk & His Lady: Protective Custody

In the adjoining kitchen, the smoke detector went off and he watched Effie Trinket grabbed the pan to toss it into the sink, desperately turning on the tap. Sometimes, he wondered how Snow’s men had not found out that he had hidden her here yet. They could just follow the smoke. She burnt things in the kitchen every other day.

He stood by the bay window, a hand on his hip. His tie hung loosely around his neck with the top button unbuttoned. He was frazzled and to be honest, coming out a little stressed and the news Chaff just delivered from the other end of the phone was not helping matters.

“There’s nothing I can do, Haymitch. We have orders from Coin to end protective custody.”

“Chaff, you’re not looking at the big picture here,” he ran his hand through his hair, hissing into the phone. “You can’t do that, alright? It’ll leave her expose. Snow’s men will go after her.”

“The operation is a success, Haymitch. Agent Everdeen took him down. Snow’s dead.”

“There will be loyalist,” he argued

“Your girl’s high maintenance, Haymitch. She’s burning through our resources and you know how Coin is about cutting budget. Trinket’s got three of our men guarding her day in and day out.”

“We’re talkin’ about someone’s life here!” he exploded and brought his voice down when Effie shot him a curious glance. “I get it, okay. I get that this suite is too much for Coin’s bank account. I get that Trinket needs to be maintained and that we could use our manpower for something else but what about all those information she’s been giving us, huh? They’ve checked out at every turn. She’s been doing us a solid, Chaff.”

Effie Trinket was a socialite and one cannot just whisk a socialite away from her scene into a two star hotel, expecting her to cooperate. Instead, Haymitch had put her up at a suite, far away from the city under protective custody. There were clothes in her wardrobe, even if she spent day in and day out in the room with nowhere to go but he understood that that was what kept her sane. Her life was crumbling apart and dressing up was her armour. He couldn’t deal with her having a mental breakdown again since it was not beneficial to closing the case so after pulling strings with Coin, he had compensated her lack of social activities with clothes and shoes and make-up. She was shallow, vain and all in all, a fucking pain in his ass, but he learnt to deal with it.

He had provided her cigarettes every few days and a deck of card which she sometimes cajoled his agents into playing with her. He stocked up the kitchen and brought her wine when he visited to get information from her. He inevitably learnt her favourite brand of wine and even if he tried to refrain from drinking on the job, she always had her way in the end.

“It’s over, buddy,” Chaff said. “We’re recalling all agents back. That includes you. Ms. Trinket is free to go.”

“For fuck’s sake,” he cursed loudly.

He knew that decision was final. Calling Coin would not result in anything. Haymitch threw his phone on the sofa.

“I’ve told you again and again about using that sort of language,” she rebuked when she felt his presence in the kitchen.

He watched her pull the kitchen glove from hand and folded her apron. The pasta sauce was burnt and she had clearly given up making a new batch. If he knew her, she would sidle up to him and talk him into helping her or she would approach Agent Mellark standing guard outside the door, sweet talk him into leaving his post to cook for her.

She had been here only five months but he knew well by now. She was his responsibility since he was the one to approach her.

Haymitch leaned against the kitchen counter. He would have to break the news to her.

“Sweetheart,” he began.

“Will you ever learn to use my name, Agent Abernathy?” she teased.

His lips twitched into a small smile.

“What’s the matter?” she frowned when she glanced behind her shoulder to see the pensive look on his face.

“Snow’s dead.”

The ladle clattered to the floor. Her eyes widened.

“Truly?” she asked, hurrying forward to stand before him. “If this is one of your jokes…”

“I wouldn’t joke ‘bout something like this,” he scowled.

Haymitch raised his hand and with the back of his finger, he tenderly brushed her cheek. He watched his own movement, mesmerized. There was no guarantee of what would happen, if they would see each other again.

She caught his hand and held it tight.

“That is good news. But why – you do not seem thrilled by it. Is something the matter?”

“I have orders to pull my men out,” he answered quietly.

Effie blinked and then let go of his hand as if scalded.

“What does that mean?” she whispered. “Haymitch…”

“It means…” he exhaled heavily. “It means you’re not under our protection anymore. We have orders to clear out by tomorrow.”

“That’s it?” she asked and then her face morphed into something ugly. “You are not responsible for my safety anymore? You bring me in. You make a deal and now that you have what you want, you’re leaving me for dead?”

Haymitch winced. Effie chortled bitterly. She was starting to sound hysterical.

“That’s not how – You’d still be under protective custody, sweetheart, even after you’ve given us all the information that you have. That’s how it usually is. But Snow’s dead and my superiors do not deem whatever that was threatening your safety before to be a threat anymore.”

“And you? What do you think?” she demanded, taking a threatening step towards him.

“Sweetheart…”

“No,” Effie snapped. “Because that is what will happen, Haymitch. They will come for me. I worked for him. I worked for Snow and I betrayed him.”

“You did what was right.”

“Fuck you,” she spat and he knew she was furious.

“Children died, Effie,” he raised his voice. “You damn well knew it so don’t tell me that even if I hadn’t approached you that you would stay to work for him!”

“Plutarch said I could trust you,” she whispered. “Is he free to go to?”

“Yes,” he rubbed his stubble. “Everyone… Everyone’s free to go.”

“Do you know what happened to Seneca, Haymitch? Snow murdered him and made it look like a suicide,” Effie told him. Haymitch was well aware of that. “You have no proof that all of his cells have been cleared out. They’re like rats. They will come for me. You might as well put a gun to my head right now. You will be doing me a favour.”

Haymitch let out a breath. To be safe, he put a hand on the gun in his holster just in case she decided to do something impulsive like make a grab for it.

“I’m not gonna do that,” Haymitch shook his head. “I’m not – I won’t let anything happen to you. I swear on it.”

He had a list of people he had failed to protect but he swore, Effie wouldn’t be one of them.

“You will forgive me if I find that difficult to believe.”

She walked past him into the bedroom. He knew her mind was a mess because she did not even bother to fold her clothes. She threw them into her luggage.

With nowhere to go, Haymitch set her up to live with Annie Cresta and Johanna Mason, both former agents and both retired due to medical reasons. But Johanna was still deadly, and she would be able to protect her until he could find a more permanent solution. Or until he personally made sure that all of Snow’s men were gone.

He would make it his own personal mission if it came down to that.

“You’ll be safe here.”

She said nothing to it. She wouldn’t even look him in the eye when he stooped down to press a kiss to her lips.

“I’ll come back for you.”

I found this half-written in a folder and went to work on it this afternoon