#there is hayffie everywhere for those with the eyes to see

[mirixmoya]

hello friends welcome to GRADING TORTURED POET SOCIETY SONGS BASED ON HOW EASILY I COULD TURN THEM INTO A HAYFFIE FIC (PART TWO) i hope u enjoy.

(you can find PART ONE here, for anyone interested!)

i. the black dog: 8/10. excellent directly-post-war hayffie song. captures a moment when they haven't quite re-connected yet, but they're both dying without eachother. "my longings stay unspoken, and i may never open up the way i did for you" "six weeks of breathing clean air, i still miss the smoke" is all very them. a really effective illustration of how the world feels like a different place in heartbreak, it's desolate and aching, which is all very very hayffie.

ii. imgonnagetyouback: 9/10. this song is bananas crazy, but so is effie. so it fits. it reeks of the turbulent, on-again-off-again, boundaryless, situationship parts of hayffie. once again, i think this could be a VERY good directly-post-war vibe. "i can tell when somebody still wants me" "you'll find that you were never not mine" "even if it's handcuffed, i'm leaving here with you" are all crazy thought processes which i can 100% imagine effie having.

iii. the albatross: 7/10. i know everyone is really stuck on this being a lucy gray / katniss / snow parallel song, but i see the hayffie vision! i think it would be a good song to juxtapose all of effie's relationships with capitol men against her relationship with haymitch. how is she made to behave by love? how does her fame + position loom over her relationships? effie is mythologized by the men in her life, almost made unreal by their perceptions of her, and it's haymitch who makes her real again. if any of that makes sense.

iv. chloe or sam or sophia or marcus: 8/10. EVERYONE HEAR ME OUT ON THIS ONE, but i have this vision of really angsty post-canon hayffie where they try to make a proper relationship work, they really do, but they just... can't. but there is an ache to this failure. a regret. they thought that they would always be able to come back to this, to eachother, but they discover that life is actually a series of closed doors. things change over time. they're forced to grieve this past version of their relationship that they simply don't have access to anymore. "you turned me into an idea of sorts, you needed me but you needed drugs (ALCOHOL) more" "could it be enough to just float in your orbit?" "if you want to break my cold, cold heart, say you loved me" ... yeah, the angst potential is endless.

v: how did it end?: 7/10. ONCE AGAIN, excellent bones for an angsty post-canon 'well, it didn't work out' hayffie vibe. good general thg imagery with "lost the game of chance, what are the chances?" + "the empathetic hunger descends" etc etc. "we were blind to unforeseen circumstances" very very them.

vi: so high school: 5/10. i feel like i could twist it to be hayffie if i tried really hard. like maybe a post-canon movie-verse traumaless fluff vibe where everything just falls into place. "no one's ever had me, not like you" is a very good line for hayffie tho.

vii: i hate it here: 8/10. excellent potential for a pre-canon / during-canon hayffie where effie uses their relationship as her refuge from the rest of the world, it's the only place she can truly be herself. the precocious child stuff, the debutant stuff, "i'm lonely but i'm good, i'm bitter but i swear i'm fine", all feels veryyy effie. this song would also be a good framework for effie being incapable of articulating her relationship with haymitch to other people, the magic of it is lost on them, it comes out clunky and awkward. but SHE knows it's real.

viii: thanK you aIMee: 2/10. not a hayffie song. but i feel like i could make it about effie & The Other Escorts if i really tried.

ix: i look in people's windows: 6/10. listen, this album is just an post-canon hayffie gold mine. "i had died the tiniest death" (the war) "i'm afflicted by the not knowing" (her relationship with haymitch) "what if your eyes looked up and met mine, one more time" (they can try again, can't they?). the anxious, almost neurotic ruminating is very effie to me.

x. the prophecy: 10/10. THE HAYFFIE SONG! if you saw the twitter edit before it got taken down, you KNOW. "don't want money, just someone who wants my company" "i'm so afraid i've sealed by fate" ... devastating. i think the illusions to prophecy & fate & this lack of control all play into her role in The Games really well. the idea that she's being punished for her sins by this lack of love. so much of effie is controlled and precise, i think the fact that this one thing (her relationship with haymitch) is sooo out of her control would drive her insane. perhaps insane enough to beg on her knees...

xi. cassandra: 4/10. not really hayffie focused, but good potential for one of my more politically focused fics. maybe the year of the 75th, leading right up to the rebellion. cinna & portia strike me as very cassandra-coded.

xii. peter: 1/10. not hayffie. maybe seneca & effie relationship study, but def not hayffie.

xiii. the bolter: 10/10. PERFECT EFFIE SONG! NO NOTES! SHE IS THE BOLTER! a precocious child with a "quite bewitching face" who is "splendidly selfish, charmingly helpless"??? welcome back effie trinket! the chorus is very hayffie to me. i'm thinking pre-canon early affair vibes. we get all the fun contrast between her relationship with haymitch and her relationship with the capitol "trophy hunters". the bridge could not be more effie if it tried, "hearts are hers for the breaking, there's an escape in escaping". she falls through the ice (the war) but don't worry folks, she comes out alive!

xiv. robin: 0/10. i genuinely have no idea what i could do with this song. sorry.

xv. the manuscript: 3/10. potential for post-canon living-happily-ever-after hayffie but with effie reflecting on her past relationships with capitol men. there's lots of illusions to grooming and the imprint that age-gap relationships leave behind that i think could really work.

[gudvina]

the moments hayffie realized they were in love with each other

Of strawberry tarts and digging nails

Ship: Effie Trinket/Haymitch Abernathy

Fandom: Hunger Games

Serie: of Wildflowers and Ivies.

Can also be read on AO3! <3

67th Hunger Games, part one.

She didn’t enjoy having to walk around District Twelve. She felt out of place, she stood out too much with her colourful clothes and her wigs, and people stared a lot. Of course, it was very impolite, but she didn’t have time to lecture strangers. She’d searched for Haymitch everywhere, in the house, around the village, and she still couldn’t find him.

The reaping was in 5 hours, and the man was nowhere to be found.

It wasn’t until she reached something that looked like an abandoned warehouse, bustling with people and merchant stands, that she saw him. He was sitting on a chair, eating what looked like soup from a bowl. It wasn’t her ideal place, but she was there, and he’d been rude not to wait at home.

She entered, making her way through the crowd, never losing sight of him. When she got to him, she waited for him to look up and acknowledge her, tapping her shoe on the tinned floor, but he clearly hadn’t expected her to be there and it took him a moment.

His eyes widened and his jaw dropped. Had she been anywhere else, she would have laughed. Instead, she just chuckled.

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, Haymitch, not only did you break Hosting Rules by going out when you knew you’d have a guest to wait for, now you also greet me in the worst way possible!”

“You shouldn’t be here”.

“Oh, I think here is exactly where I should be. That’s where you are”. It was obvious, wasn’t it? She looked closer at him and realized he was looking around, as if to check if anyone was looking at them. And of course they were, she was the only one dressed decently in that place!

The old woman behind the stand, who she suspected cooked the weird soup he was eating, was certainly looking.

Her face fell when a sneaking suspicion rose inside her. Was he ashamed? It wasn’t like no one knew that they worked together, it was her job to prepare everything in occasion of the Reaping, so she hadn’t thought much of searching for him. But he looked concerned and now she felt humiliated.

He was ashamed of her. She was okay behind close doors, a fun distraction maybe, but outside… She was aware they were nothing, that to him she wasn’t nothing more than the escort he slept around with, but seeing the signs hurt.

To avoid making it worse she wore her escort smile brighter.

“Alright, you finish your soup and I’ll wait for you at the Village. Later!” she quipped a little too enthusiastically and turned around, retracing her steps. She left the weird marketplace- or whatever it was- and strutted back to the Victors’ Village, trying to be quick on her heels.

When she passed the Gates she sat down on the fountain at the centre of the Village, trying to look at the at the rippling water. Trying, because it was blurry due to the tears she refused to shed.

It was in that moment that she couldn’t ignore the truth. She’d known it all along, but now she felt it even more. She loved him. She loved who he was, his fine points and his flaws. And she’d been so stupid because she was never supposed to fall in love with him, and now she was reaping the results of her naivety. She heard steps behind her, so she proceeded to blink her tears away, breathing deeply.

“You shouldn’t have gone there”.

She turned and glared at him, charged with anger. Who did he think he was?

“Why? Do I look so ridiculous that it’s so bad to be seen with me?”

“Well, you do look ridiculous with those… dots? on your cheeks, but it’s not that” he said, and his voice was so even that it irritated her more. What was his reason, then?

“What, then? Is there a future Mrs Abernathy I don’t know about? Because if there is you can just forget ever touching me again!”.

When she was done speaking, she had expected him to leave her with her anger, maybe throwing a cutting remark to end the conversation. But he simply laughed. A roaring, exhilarating laugh, a real one. And it was for her. All for her, not because of a joke from Chaff, not because of someone’s lopsided wig or odd dress. Because of her.

She couldn’t help laughing as well, joining him despite her previous anger. She loved him so much.

“You really think that is a problem? You shouldn’t go around the District without Peacekeepers with you. It could be dangerous and then it’d be my job to kick someone’s ass. Don’t make me do it. Now let’s get inside, I bought a strawberry tart from the bakery. Because ‘hosting rules’ or whatever”.

“Well, it’d be only polite, given how badly I was received. A guest should never have to wait for the host!”

“Whatever let’s go” he said, offering his arm which she took gladly.

He smelled of alcohol, his house was a mess, and she knew she would end up nagging him to put on decent clothes, but for now it didn’t matter. She’d seen him laugh and he’d bought her a tart. Maybe daylight wasn’t made for them, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy the little things.

67th Hunger Games, part two.

Dawn came fast, casting a dimmed purple light in the bedroom. Their bodies were tangled together, covered only by a flimsy white sheet, as they swayed and rocked back and forth. It was slow, lazy. They had been in bed for hours at this point. They started in the early hours of the night, alternating drowsy rest with sex.

That year their tributes died in the bloodbath, and since their stylists were often busy with whatever meeting, they had almost the whole day to themselves. He’d spent the evening with Chaff, drinking at the sponsors’ lunge, and when he came back, he made a beeline for her room. He had his way with her like she always allowed him, especially after losing the tributes so early.

It had begun with rough handling and earthquaking orgasms, but gradually turned softer. He lied to himself, saying it was just the fatigue taking over, but that was all it was: a lie. Being inside her was becoming an addiction. He couldn’t get enough, couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted to.

“Effie” he groaned, sinking into her again.

“I can’t” she held him closer to her, her limbs shaking.

“You can take it”.

She whimpered and let her nails dig on his shoulder blade, as her body’s movements became more erratic. He could feel her walls tightening around him, and her legs shaking.

What perplexed him was that it wasn’t that different from anything they’d ever done, he knew her body so well by now that it should have made it boring. Or at least so he thought. Four years. A four years long affair that had started after her tumultuous start as an escort, one he’d made frustrating and vexing.

He was used to Lavinia’s ways. To be left alone unless strictly necessary, especially when it came to his drinking, but Effie was different. She was bubbly, determined, and, even though he’d tried his best to discourage her, she was unbeatable. Nothing deterred her unless it was truly impossible.

And even then, he wasn’t quite sure flying was impossible for her, if she put her mind to it.

Irritation had turned into a sexual tension so thick one could cut it, and after much fighting they both caved in. They’d told each other it was a mistake, but then it happened again. And again, gradually becoming a thing. If it was a mistake, they seemed keen to their errant ways.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew that what they were doing was dangerous, if not outright stupid, that it shouldn’t be anything more than it was, but he felt… something. Want, a feeling he’d never felt so strongly. And what did he want? More. More of her, everything that made this hellish woman what she was.

Looking into her blue eyes, that were hazy with pleasure, he tried to keep eye contact as he slid deeper inside her. He saw her lips part and her face contract slightly, her nails now digging on his waist. His hand travelled down to her core, and it took only a little teasing to have her come undone with a squeal that she tried to muffle with her hand.

Then he also reached his peak, coming inside her with a grunt. Her grip on him was softer now, and she soothed his body with gentle caresses. In the wee hours of the day, their bodies still trembling with the aftermath of their union, he realized.

It was the reason he didn’t want her to get the promotion, the reason he glared at Finnick every time he suggested switching escorts, the reason he’d felt relieved when her relationship with Crane ended. The reason his heart leapt when she smiled. The reason he was distressed when she was, even if he didn’t want her to see it.

He couldn’t bring himself to admit it, but it was there. It was that feeling that meant death, it was that feeling that could put her in danger. And yet she held him so tightly, kissed him so sweetly. As if he wasn’t cursed, as if touching him was the most natural thing in the world, and not something that could be very well fatal. Like she wasn’t afraid.

When he drew back to look at her, he saw something in her eyes. It laid there, unspoken, the proof of her own feelings. She stroked his jaw and he let her, transfixed by the simplicity with which she bore what she felt.

They were both fucked. This was the moment he should have gotten up, taken his clothes and ran away from there, but he knew it wasn’t going to last. He would end up between her legs the next morning, his body acting on his feelings despite common sense.

So he just kissed her, claiming her lips with a kiss more gentle than they could afford. There was nothing left to do.

[ears-awake-eyes-opened]

Intoxication (part 2)

(NSFW. Sexual content. 🔥🔥 Intense Hayffie experimenting with emotional drugs as an alternative to forced sobriety in District 13. Hayffie trying to have a sexual relationship without falling in love, and basically failing at the latter. The tattoo I created for Effie is revealed.)

“‘I’LL be her escort,’ he said. ‘I’LL look out for her,’ he said. ‘But I can’t promise she won’t get a scratch or two,’ ...Ha! The audacity to wink at me with those eyes and all the places they’ve been. How patronizing! Why did I expect HIM to keep ANY of those promises!” Effie ranted to herself as she paced her living quarters. She paused long enough to glance at her reflection in the small circular mirror. I’M the fool for trusting him.

It’s not like Effie would have escorted Katniss to District 2 or anywhere outside the relative safety of 13, but she should have INSISTED on... something. Though her heart knew that nothing was safe anymore.

“Thank god for Cinna. Still protecting our victor from beyond the grave. ...I hope somehow he’s in a better place than this.”

When the broadcast had shown Katniss shot down, Effie feared the worst, even knowing the design of the Mockingjay suit.

“What if one of those bullets had hit her neck? Her head? What if the loyalists had gunned down everyone in that tunnel?... Everyone except for Haymitch, of course. He’s preserved by a quarter century of alcohol. The only thing not bulletproof is his liver.” Her rant continued, but dark circles beneath her eyes told a more complex tale of worry. Effie hadn’t been able to sleep until they were back in 13.

She’d seen Katniss in the hospital. “Bruised ribs. A bruised lung! That child has already been bruised more than anyone should have to be in a lifetime. She deserves better. She will ALWAYS deserve better.”

Usually when Effie spoke to her ‘mirror on the wall’ about deserving things, she was thinking of herself, but not now. She realized — she believed — that she didn’t have the capacity to make the kinds of sacrifices required to be truly deserving.

She thought again of Cinna, wondering how his eyes had opened within the Capitol. She thought about her victors.

She had passed Haymitch in the hospital earlier without saying a word. She was angry with him for making promises that couldn’t be kept and angry with him for not keeping those impossible promises. She was more angry with herself for worrying about him and not being able to stop that feeling. And she was angry with herself for looking at him with her terror coated in the relief of seeing him unharmed.

She knew he’d recognized the look because he hadn’t pressed her for conversation. He’d let her walk away and fume by herself. Now she was angry too that he hadn’t followed her and angry with herself for thinking that he might have.

Even still, the knock on her door after an hour of pacing didn’t surprise her. She took her time opening it, glancing first in the mirror again. What am I doing? What am I even doing here?

She opened the door regardless. She didn’t stop herself. “What!?”

“Well, hello to you too, sweetheart.”

She didn’t ask him in, but she stepped to the side and left the door open. Familiar with Effie’s brand of agitation and nonsense, he saw the invitation for what it was. He ventured inside, sliding the door closed behind him.

“Do you want to talk?” he asked.

She pretended to busy herself with clothing and accessories on the table. “No.”

“Do you want to just be angry with me.”

“Yes.” She didn’t meet his eyes.

He stood beside her without touching. “What’s happening here?”

“Preparations for Finnick and Annie’s wedding...”

He captured her wrist and asked again, holding her pulse with his thumb. “No. What’s happening HERE?”

She tried to pull free, and he wouldn’t let go. “Haymitch!”

He stepped closer and loosened his grip. She didn’t withdraw her hand; she let him touch her, feeling exactly what her heart was doing. “Damn you.” She looked in his eyes this time and saw the reflection of her own intensity.

The wildness came out all at once and they were kissing. It wasn’t calm or familiar like the night before the Quarter Quell. This was not about comfort.

She bit his lip. Inadvertently? It didn’t matter. His mouth was rough with her too.

The bite stung. He tasted the metallic flavor on her tongue. His blood or hers? That didn’t matter either.

“Where?” he asked, “These bunks are so damn small.”

She knew what he was asking. “Anywhere... everywhere.”

He shoved her against a wall, “Haymitch! These walls are thin. The neighbors will hear.”

“The floor then,” he said, unbuttoning her shirt.

“The floor!? We’re not animals!”

“Yeah, we are,” he muttered into her mouth. She rolled her eyes, but she didn’t contradict him.

“The table,” he suggested.

“Civilized people EAT there.”

“Fine!” He let go of her, frustrated and in the frustration he just wanted her more. “This was a bad idea anyway.”

His irritation was erotic, and there’s no way she was letting this feeling go to waste. She positioned herself between him and the door. “If this is a bad idea, then why does it feel so good? ...Stay.”

The boiling reduced to a simmer. He reached behind her to make sure the door had latched. Then he pinned her against it, and methodically began taking off her clothes, starting with the turban. He interrupted her objection, “Shhh. No talking.”

Her hair fell to her shoulders, and he leaned in to smell it. “This is my favorite part of you.”

“Well, don’t get used to it.”

“We’ll see.”

“There are other parts of me you’re going to like more.”

Unbuttoning more of her shirt, he glimpsed a tattoo below her left breast. — a red tree branch scattered with colorful leaves shaped like feathers. The colors were natural: a bluebird rather than Caesar’s former hair, morning sky before rain rather than cotton candy. The branch curved with her breast and continued somewhere within her shirt. He traced the curve. “What do we have here?” Wanting more of her breasts could wait a moment.

“Something one of a kind.”

Like you. He didn’t say. Instead he pushed her shirt to the floor, wanting to see the rest. The branch transitioned into red ribbons, flowing and crisscrossing down her side and disappearing into the waistband of her pants. He tugged those to her hips, far enough to trace the ribbons which crossed the small of her back, hugging more of her curves. The ribbons separated at her spine, ending in a tiny pair of dancing shoes in the hollow of her sacrum.

“Jesus, Effie...” Capitol people are known for tattoos, but this one was unexpected. He wanted everything with her at once. “... I want to fuck you.”

“Shhh,” she mimicked his earlier statement, “No talking. ...It’s my turn.”

To hell with buttons. She pulled up his shirt, and he lifted his arms to encourage. The shirt caught on his chin, so she yanked it until it was free. It fell to the floor with hers.

“Are you trying to take my head off?”

“That depends on which head.” She toyed with the button of his pants.

He pulled her to him, unhooking her bra, stripping it away, and learning the shape of her breasts in his palms. Kissing her again would have meant taking his eyes off her body, and he didn’t want to do that yet. Without an alcohol-induced haze, everything was sharp along the edges, including his desire for her. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d experienced this quality of feeling. How much of this could he say without saying too much. Then again, maybe they were better off not talking.

The fine hair on his chest and stomach tickled her, gold and silver. Her smile wouldn’t stop.

“You’re beautiful,” he caressed her cheeks.

She knew.

“I’m a sure thing tonight, sweetheart,” she teased him with his sarcastic endearment.

He knew.

Still, he wanted this to stay as good as it felt right now. It had been longer for him than he cared to admit since the last time he’d had sex, and maybe the only time in 25 years that he wasn’t doing this drunk. Plus this was the first time with Effie. They’d been dancing around it for quite a while, and he wanted it good.

“Come here.” He lead her to one of the bunks. This time she didn’t object to the location. He could have fucked her against the door, as ready as she was.

They stripped down pants. His body was gorgeous. She stroked him in lieu of telling him so. “I don’t usually do this naked,” she said.

“And I don’t usually do this sober,” he admitted. His sexual experiences with women were usually just for him. The other wasn’t particularly relevant. But Effie was relevant, even when she was ignoring him. As her strokes turned to tugs. She definitely was not ignoring him.

He grabbed her waist and lifted her up onto the bunk. She wrapped her legs around his back, keeping him in front of her.

He kissed along the length of her tattoo from her breast to her hip, then slid his hand along the curves of the rest, stroking where he knew those dancing shoes lived in the hollow of her sacrum.

Why the shoes? He wondered without asking. He’d ask her later if she didn’t tell him first.

He rested his forehead against her chest and slid his palms up her thighs to the apex. He brushed against her with his thumbs circling.

She hadn’t expected this gentleness. Like this, he terrified her. She was too full of feeling.

“How do you want this, sweetheart?”

Keep going, exactly like this, she thought, but she denied the impulse. “Rough and impersonal,” she said, “...I don’t want to fall for you.”

He met her gaze, surprised again. She was pleading, but he kept touching her the same, even more tenderly. “Rough I can do, but not falling for me is up to you. I can’t make any promises.”

“That’s exactly why this can’t be too personal.” She said it with her hands behind his neck, stroking his hairline with her fingertips. Her touch tingled down his arms and legs and to his groin. He wondered if he could come like this, with just her hands in his hair.

This was personal. She was right. This wasn’t the time to fall for anybody, especially a Capitol girl who he knew all too well to be irritating as hell and now incredibly attractive in nakedness.

Effie moaned softly. “Are you going to fuck me or make me come in your hands because I’m close, honey.”

They needed to switch this up. Like now.

“Get on your knees,” he told her.

She hesitated, not used to men making demands of her.

“...If you want this rough, then get on your knees.”

She lifted her legs onto the bunk, and complied. He was quickly behind her grazing the length of her tattoo with his palm, and teasing her before slipping inside, all the way to her cervix.

The fit was perfect, curving to just the right spot. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of saying so, but her body betrayed her, with pleasure building so fast.

He clutched her hips, digging in and moving with a force that she certainly couldn’t call gentle. The ribbons of her tattoo danced in his hand. It was such a turn on, and curiosity got the better of him, “Why the red shoes.”

“To remind me that I make my own life... Oh, god... Haymitch...”

“‘God,’ works just fine, sweetheart,” he taunted as she clenched around him.

“Oh, you arrogant fuck... Oh, god...” she couldn’t help but say it again.

He reached around her body and flicked the sweet spot, without tenderness.

In the mix of pleasure and pain, she exploded with an intensity that wouldn’t be a secret from her neighbors after all.

“Honey, I like the way you make your own life,” he groaned, caressing the image of those tiny red shoes in the hollow at the base of her spine. It was erotic — the bit of gentleness that he couldn’t resist offering, the feeling of her skin, his sober awareness of her orgasm, the way her hair brushed against her neck as he moved inside her.

This was personal. This was just as personal as looking into her eyes. It wasn’t the how of it. It was her.

He tried to make it last because maybe this was a one time thing and this was all he’d have of her. And maybe they would be better off that way.

He didn’t think to ask, is this okay? This felt so much better than okay. He didn’t think to ask, where should I come? All at once it was just happening, and inside her was the only place he wanted to be. The release was almost better than liquor on his tongue, down his throat, into his veins. For a moment she was the best thing he’d felt.

As he came down from the high and his body eased, he could feel her crying.

Shit. He pulled out and lay beside her.

“Hey.” His voice was tender now. Screw what she’d said about the need for roughness. “Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head ‘no’ and laid it beside his.

He wiped his thumb across her cheeks catching her tears.

“I thought you might be dead,” she said, “Both of you. When Katniss was shot and the transmission stopped. I couldn’t know what was happening, and I thought maybe...”

“I’m here.” He kissed her cheeks, tasting salt and faint flowers, like a remnant of the froofy Capitol cocktail she used to be, and like what he imagined of the seashore. He wondered if she’d ever been there.

“We’re a team. ...I don’t want to lose you.”

He slid his hand up her spine and held her with their foreheads touching. “I don’t want to lose you either.”

Shit. This was so goddamn personal. They gave into the desire to let it be so. Who kissed who first was irrelevant. There was no clashing of teeth or tasting blood — just silk, like feathery leaves and ribbons, and dangerous words they thought but didn’t say.

[mirixmoya]

my initial first-read thoughts for SOTR PART III: THE POSTER there will be MAJOR SPOILERS under the cut but pls enjoy :)

chapter 19;

haymitch thinking poorly about himself makes me so sad i can't believe he's gonna do that for the next 25 years

"will she be haunted by me for the rest of her life?" other way around actually!

haymitch tryna smart ass his way out of panache killing him... this man never never changes does he

chapter 20;

"i've killed someone. two someones. brutally. it was self-defense, so question, but i know i can never go back to five minutes ago." he's so young he's so sweet i could cry

"mamaw used to say you never really knew who'd swim in a flood." there is annie cresta everywhere for those with the eyes to see

mags and haymitch mental communication via sponsor gifts... haymitch and katniss mental communication via sponsor gifts... crazy stuff.

HAYMITCH AND MAYSILEE BROTHERSISTER

"my dreams are nothing i want to remember, full of people i must never forget. i visit death after death. it's a relief to be woken up." oh :(

katniss and haymitch both getting a lil deaf in their games #family

KATNISS MENTION WAHHH

"one of us has to be the worst victor in history. tear up their scripts, tear down their celebrations, set fire to the victor's village. refuse to play their game." do i believe that post-sotr is a genuine addict and a handful? yes ofc. do i think he's also keeping his promise to maysilee a little bit? also yes.

chapter 22

"just programmed to be walked all over, i guess" he's like a sad wet dog i see on the street and then worry about for the rest of my day

chapter 23;

reading these moments that were already kinda knew but also didn't really know is so surreal

MAYSILEE MY SWEET GIRL :(

"I just stare into those burning blue eyes, letting her know she's not dying alone. she's with family. she's with me." :((((((((

effie mention again!! it's so good to be alive!!

"proserpina wasn't born evil; she just had a lot of unlearning to do." the trinket sisters have this in common i fear

"it's okay to cry around mags" suzanne what if IM the one crying

chapter 24;

okay must assume at this point that The Raven references are building to something but they are still lowkey jarring for me idk

"neither of us are going home [...] these Games will have no victor" he's literally six months pregnant with katniss here.

that whole cliff sequence... chef's kiss

"I die happy." :(

chapter 25;

A WHAT SWALLOWS A WHAT

sepsis mention.

"nobody's here because everybody's dead." and this is just his life now. sick. sick to my stomach.

him always remembering to mention effie even tho she was only there for like 2 days... mhm hm okay.

he's already likening his victor's village house to a prison stfu

snow locking this traumatized teenage boy in this apartment, alone, with only shitty symbolism food, and making him watch a gory clip show of the past hunger games??? i need to kill this man immediately

LUCY GRAY MY BELOVED

EFFIE!!!!

her ass is always having to act normal while people are shooting guns about her ears i know effie just hates her fucking life.

haymitch describing himself as an animal NOOOOO

the world could literally be ending and nothing would stop these two idiots from bantering. i hate them. literally the plot of mockingjay (the movie).

"i'm going to tell everyone you dressed me." and i'm expected to believe there's NOTHING going on between them???

this exchange is affectionate asf ohmygod

effie being given direct instructions from snow? possibly from the man himself?? oh im gonna have a field day with that one

"effie, to her credit, stands by me." TEARS. TEARS IN MY EYES. THIS LITERALLY BEING THEIR RELATIONSHIP IN A NUTSHELL.

"i won't hurt you." "i know that." ARE U KIDDING

"but they really are for a greater good. the hunger games." don't worry suzanne girl i've been there too. i love to ruin a nice hayffie moment with effie saying something horrible and inhuman.

mags in a wheelchair :(

"day 5 or 6? who knows? it's just one big, big, big day." literally effie trinket #1 fan alert

corioloanus snow i will literally shoot u with a gun

chapter 26;

haymitch literally being put in a cage and dangled for capitol amusement.... i don't wanna talk about it.

"the only person who keeps an eye on me is effie trinket." cried. cried very hard

the four tributes finishing their journey together suzanne why don't YOU just shoot ME with a gun.

"you can take several things from me--my ma, my brother, my love--that are the only things worth keeping." i am gonna throw up.

HANGING TREE :(

of all the way to kill haymitch's family suzanne chose the most devastating one. uh huh okay.

it's literally so over.

the dry cistern. how many times can i threaten to kms

burdock everdeen u are so loved by me. i would also leave my nice town family for ur broke ass and then be devastated beyond reason when you die tragically.

don't even get me started on the song choice... this book is wet enough already

"no one took more care banking a fire at night." Mrs. Abernathy i loveee u. i grew up in a house heated solely by fire, this is literally my Mom, i feel like i Know her, i was literally Raised by her.

HAYDOVE REUNION #GODISGOOD

nevermind.

chapter 27;

THE NIGHTMARES :(

"that i will never love anyone ever again. nevermore. because he will make sure they end up dying horrible deaths." i will be using this in all my future hayffie mockingjay effie-in-prison angst fics thank u very much

haymitch pushing everyone away to the point of throwing ROCKS at burdock and asterid??? i know he was sick to his stomach the first time he saw katniss on that train

i can't watch this poor young boy became an alcoholic in real time i really can't :(

snow losing lucy gray in the woods vs. haymitch looking for lenore dove in the woods. i see u suzanne.

lucy gray has a headstone this is incredible news

"it's effie trinket who finds me," and i knew she would!!!!

is she the stylist or the escort now? or both??

"you are capable of imagining a different future. and maybe it won't be realized today, maybe not in our lifetime. maybe it will take generations." that's right suzanne! remind the children that katniss was not a uniquely extraordinary revolutionary, she was simply a revolutionary who came in at the right time!

epilogue;

"i have to look after my family." the sob that just left my body was genuinely concerning.

i will never use sweetheart for effie again.

"i finally told our story" :(

KATNISS GAVE HIM THE GEESE!!!

"the capitol can never take lenore dove from me again. they never really did in the first place." haydove u were so beautiful and lovely it was a pleasure to get to know u

me, a hayffie girly, closing the last page on that epilogue: yeah :) i can work with that :)

not a single intelligent thought to be found this time. only a lot of incoherently rambling. i'm so excited to re-read it all again tomorrow.

[mirixmoya]

my initial first-read thoughts for SOTR PART I: THE BIRTHDAY obviously there will be MAJOR SPOILERS under the cut but i hope u enjoy :)

chapter 01;

laundress Mrs. Abernathy i knew u were real. i felt u in my soul

“woah, a promotion!” he’s such a dick (affectionate)

i know white liquor has been mentioned in previous books but i find its’ emphasis here as a part of district 12 culture (especially for the labouring class) to be really interesting. it feel analogous to the rise of drinking culture amongst working-class britons amid the industrial revolution.

“I’m not much of a drinker myself,” suzanne im gonna kms

lenore dove having a fancy for colourful things... there are haydove / hayffie parallels everywhere for those with the eyes to see

the change in the Covey culture between tbosas and sotr feels very poignant

i predicted hair ribbon lenore dove idc

haymitch thinking clerk carmine hates love only to find out the man is secretly in a long-term relationship for fear of persecution... don't u worry baby that's gonna be u in a couple decades.

i am also taking credit for predicting pocketknife haymitch

another M name for maysilee's sister... i'm basically a prophet

"you two didn't have to dress up for me" he's a comedian ladies and gentlemen

AN ESCORT!!!!!!

haymitch not being the original draw... suzanne do u want me dead.

chapter 02;

i find haymitch's reluctance to act when faced with things he knows are wrong to be really interesting, especially compared to lenore dove's insistence on action. it's something that sets them apart from one another, whereas i've always felt the hesitation to act was something that haymitch and effie had in common.

parallels between haymitch putting himself between lenore dove and the peacekeeper vs. haymitch putting himself between katniss and the peacekeeper... that's sick.

plutarch appearance? these two divas and their generational beef.

"or some extra-horrible snappy way to die" literally the worst thing in the world is happening and this boy is doing his tight ten standup.

i think drusilla vs. effie could be an interesting study in the de-escalation of the escort role. drusilla's persona is overtly and pointedly hostile compared to effie's put-on benevolence.

"the Capitol rigs the reaping!" gang we may have lost the battle (online discourse) but we have won the war (canon material)

"Not from her and not from me" haydove is absolute gas and i knew it would be

bruise-knuckled haymitch i loved u first

chapter 03;

“will she be able to make ends meet without my wages from hattie? she will, or she’ll die trying.” Mrs. Abernathy i love u so much.

him mourning the life he should have had… my shayla.

haymitch’s resentment for uptight frilly spoiled maysilee… haymitch eventually coming around to maysilee by way of forced proximity and circumstance. haymitch’s resentment for uptight frilly spoiled effie… haymitch eventually coming around to effie by way of forced proximity and circumstance. interesting.

Lucy Gray mention who else cried

putting money on mags being the twelve mentor rn

i know drusilla is the bad guy here but unfortunately i am predisposed to have a latent affection for snobby escorts “Daylight is murder!” is soooo effie.

chapter 04;

haymitch thinking about that cake the same way katniss thought about the chicken with oranges in thg that's my fatherdaughter duo

"don't let them paint their posters with your blood" okayyy mr. abernathy the poet

maysilee donner diva of all time i knew i would love her

i also like that the luxuries given to the tributes is a slow build up from snow taking power rather than going straight to the level of luxury we see in the og series. it feels indicative of the capitol's need to continuously justify the taking of tributes. the hunger games is not stagnant, it is a machine that is constantly in motion, constantly building upon itself lest it fall. it's interesting.

chapter 05;

"seems the capitol has to convince its own citizens, too" and y'all KNOW i love that shit.

something something haymitch's first token from lenore being a fire starter something something haymitch's second token from effie being patterned with fire

"i need to take a piss" olivia wilde nodding gif that's MY haymitch

haymitch judging the crowd for being drunk made me insanely sad like omg he doesn't even know what's coming...

chapter 06;

haymitch rearranging louella's braids and wiping the blood from her face... he's just a baby boy ur honour

"our eyes meet, and a smile plays on his lips. no anger, no outrage, and certainly no fear. i have not impressed him with my performance." suzanne im literally shitting bricks don't scare me like this.

them calling eachother Miss Donner and Mr. Abernathy... haysilee u ate that one lil thing i will not lie

WIRESS APPEARANCE I CHEERED!!!!

i would literally bet money on wiress being the one to teach haymitch how to spot the forcefield just like she did with katniss... my tethered fatherdaughter

MAGS!!! MY DIVA!!!

chapter 07;

"and while lenore dove will forever be my true love," i need every hayffie fan who freaked out at that line to relax, take a deep breath, and to never take a 16-year-old's word on love at face value.

haymitch having very realistic / literal dreams means haymitch having very realistic / literal nightmares for the rest of his life :(

"nice outfit" the world could literally be ending and this man would still be doing his standup.

"the arena's just a machine really. a killing machine" banger.

maysilee giving very Eyes Bright, Chins Up, Smiles On in this moment i have no choice but to stan

miss suzanne introducing the children to the idea that the Labouring Many will always outnumber the Owning Few and that it isn't for the Few to rule over the Many everyone say thank u suzanne

chapter 08;

plutarch and haymitch having a decades long beef might be the best lore drop of this book

why is plutarch that trust fund kid in ur first year polisci class who read marx once but has literally never had a conversation with anyone who went to high school next to a corn field.

his stressed out ass tryna get maysilee and wyatt's act together... welcome back Mentor Haymitch!

BEETEE APPEARANCE!!!!

beetee's son is gonna die :(((((

chapter 09;

"i don't drink" my babyyy my baby ur my baby

haymitch calling The Raven lenore dove's poem... baby that is Sir Edgar Allen Poe u are quoting rn.

snow being visibly unwell during the 50th i know his ass was RANCID by the 74th.

also also snow being a miserable old cotcher about the fact that he lost a bad bitch like fourty years ago damn take a hike peepaw.

ANYWAY some intelligent thoughts, mostly unintelligent rambling. i hope u enjoyed all the same! i'm so so excited to continue reading tomorrow and get back to y'all with more thoughts :)

[ears-awake-eyes-opened]

2000 miles

(Post-revolution Hayffie halfheartedly trying to move on and wholeheartedly longing. Some sexual content.)

She let the water run over her body until it turned cold. The cost would be extravagant. Nothing was a luxury taken for granted anymore. Even the water flowing from her tap came at a price. The price was worth it in order to stop smelling like the man who was asleep in her bed. With a few cocktails in her, he’d felt good enough. The more she sobered, the more she was disappointed with her choice for the night. The sex was alright enough to keep going, but the deal didn’t close for her, and she didn’t care enough to do anything with him other than fake it. She wished he had left rather than falling asleep. She hoped he’d slip out in the morning without saying goodbye. Unfortunately, he seemed like the type who would leave a note on her pillow with his number. He seemed like the decent type who would hope that she’d call. Effie just couldn’t get into the decent type. She closed the deal in the shower, alone with memories of Haymitch’s eyes on her.

***

He traced around the handle of his knife, the way he’d done thousands of times before. Sometimes the pattern helped him sleep. Usually it was just something to do in the dark to keep memories at bay. Fuck with me, and I’ll slit your throat. Memories were stubborn. Usually they were the ones who did the slicing. The smell of his sheets didn’t help: coffee and cheap perfume. The blonde from the Hob whose name he kept forgetting had stormed out of his house an hour ago. He’d climaxed murmuring “Effie... God, Effie.” It was barely a whisper, but the woman had sharp ears. Some memories he just couldn’t shake.

***

Effie turned off the shower and felt the memory of Haymitch letting go of her hips and leaving her body. Her heartbeat echoed in her chest with so much emptiness. She wrapped her hair in a towel, slipped on her robe, and stared at the blank screen on the counter. Since the revolution, there were still screens everywhere, but the government no longer used them to force broadcasts into homes. The technology was available for personal use. She called him with her body still pulsing. She dialed before sanity could creep back in and change her mind.

***

The call was a relief from the sleep that eluded him. He had just used someone else’s body to fuck her, and now here she was on his screen nearly naked.

“Can’t stop thinking about me?” he teased.

“Well, I’m not calling to exchange recipes, sweetheart.” She slipped in his mocking endearment before he had a chance.

“No? I have some delicious ones.”

“Yes, you do...” The taunting in her voice disappeared, replaced by an unmistakable ache. He sat with it a moment and felt it too.

“You look good, Effie.” It was a relief to say her name to her rather than to the blonde who sells coffee at the Hob and resembles her faintly.

He looked good too, wearing a rumpled t-shirt in a darkened room. “Did I wake you?” she whispered.

“Can’t sleep. ...Why are you whispering?”

She hesitated before answering, even though there were no promises between them, only feelings that wouldn’t quit. There was no reason not to be honest. “Buckley’s asleep.”

“Buckley?” Haymitch felt his skin crawl and then light on fire. The thought of someone else in Effie’s bed made him physically ill. He reached for a bottle of liquor and took a large swallow.

His jealousy was palpable. She liked it and played with the feeling. “The bartender. I gave him a hand at closing time.”

“Yeah. I’ll bet you did,” he scoffed, not even trying to make light of his annoyance.

“Haymitch!”

“I don’t want you with him.”

“Don’t be a hypocrite. Peeta says you’ve been seeing someone who works at the Hob.”

“That boy should mind his own business.”

“THAT BOY is a friend you barely deserve!”

She was right about that, but he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of agreeing with her. He’d play HER game instead.

“She was here tonight — the girl from the Hob.”

Effie grew stone cold. She slipped the towel from her head and brushed her hair. She knew this simple act turned him on. She knew what lit him up better than anyone else did. That’s the story she told herself as she pictured him fucking the Hob girl.

“I’m pretty sure that thing with her is over.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Apparently it pisses women off when you fuck them with your eyes closed and then call them ‘Effie’ when you come.”

She froze. “Liar.”

“Why would I lie about that? You and I have no promises.”

Hadn’t she thought those exact words just moments ago?

“If we have no promises, then why don’t you want me with the bartender?”

“And why are you calling me at midnight instead of being in bed with him?”

They didn’t need each other’s affirmation to know that the answer to both questions was the same.

Confessions were safer at a distance, but 2000 miles still felt dangerously close.

“I think of you when I come too,” she whispered for nobody’s benefit except his. “...Every time.”

“What do you think about?” he asked, simultaneously aroused and doubting her sincerity.

“Your eyes. The way we fit. How you feel inside me. How I feel with you inside me. Kissing you before... after. Everything.”

Her robe slid down her shoulder, and she didn’t bother pulling it up.

“What are you doing to me?” he whispered this time.

“You tell me.”

“You have some bartender in your bed, and you’re fucking with me.”

“I don’t want the bartender. I want you.”

“I want you too. Get on the train tomorrow.”

“I have to work.”

“Then Saturday.”

“Haymitch, each time I’m with you it gets harder to leave.” The ache was in her voice again.

“I know, honey.” 2000 miles was a lifeline and a kiss of death. “...Come anyway.”

They were playing with fire.

“Okay.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow.”

[ellanainthetardis]

Oh you know now I need to prompt a hayffie fic for that post you just did about person a not being able to sleep until person b comes and it's all fluffy. Love your work btw.

Here you go! I’m glad I’m finally able to publish one of your prompts! Thanks for always leaving a like <3 [X]

Nocturnal musings

Effie had long given up on the idea of sleepingand was now staring at the crack on the ceiling. Well… She couldn’t really see the crack on the ceiling becausethose compartments were dark once the lights were turned off – it would havebeen less dark if she hadn’t kept the curtains giving on the corridor closedbut she was still puzzled as to who wouldhave thought it a good idea to have a window giving out on a public area forpeople to look through and gawk at you as if you were a zoo animal. The only reallight was coming from the dull red numbers on the wall.

The numbers informed her that it was twothirty-six in the morning.

She had been staring at them since eleventwenty-two. Well… That wasn’t quite true. She had tossed and turned at first ina misguided attempt at getting a little warmer. She absolutely hated being forced to sleep inlong-sleeve shirts and pants – she never sleptin constricting long sleeves and pants, never ever – and she couldn’t get comfortable so she had tried a fewpositions only to end up on her back, staring at the crack on the ceiling whenshe wasn’t watching the number pass by.

If she had been at home – or even at thepenthouse, really – she would have either caved and found a sleeping pill orshe would have gotten up and tried to do something productive. Or she might have gone for a soothingcigarette. But she wasn’t allowed cigarettes in that place. She wasn’t allowed anything, least of all wandering thecorridors at night after curfew. She didn’t have the special authorizationsHaymitch had.

Truly, she understood Katniss’ frustration withhim. It was very unfair that he seemed to have all the privileges when Effie was being relegated at the bottomof the food chain. She resented that. She was not a bottom of the food chainperson. She was a predator. Well… A socialpredator at the very least.  

And now she wanted a cigarette.

She should never have thought about that.

With a sigh, she turned on her side and feltonly irritation when the leg of her pant inched up. She wriggled until she managedto pull it down with her other foot. She hated the cold. She hated it even morethan the clothes. But now that her mind was on it, even the cold wasn’t enoughto distract her from the attractive fantasy of a cigarette.

When was the last time she had one? Rightbefore the Quell’s launch, she thought. There had been no time afterwards. Herpacket had been lost in the kidnapping – Plutarch Heavensbee might call it howeverhe pleased, the rebels had grabbed her disguised as Peacekeepers and thatcounted as kidnapping in her book. There musthave been a black market somewhere in this District – wasn’t there everywhere? – but nobody trusted her andfinding it would take some digging and more free time than she had.

Because that was the irony, wasn’t it? Shewasn’t allowed to do anything after curfew if not specifically orderedotherwise but during working hours, she had to follow the timetable printed onher wrist to the minute.

Who even came up with the idea of printingtimetables on one’s wrist? It was convenient perhaps but certainly notaesthetically pleasing. If she had wanted a tattoo she would have gone and geta nice one, a pretty one.

For a few minutes, she amused herself picturingHaymitch’s face if she had done just that, if he had one day undressed her tofind a spiral or… Oh, the face he would have made if he had ever found his nametattooed somewhere on her! He would have freaked out, certainly. And then hewould have probably fucked her reallyhard because he might claim otherwise but there was nothing that turned him on morethan her somehow professing that she belonged to him.

He was a stupid contradictory man like that.

It might have been one of the reasons she hadnever grown bored of him.

And now it wasn’t just a cigarette she cravedand the possibility of sex was just as unreachable at the moment as a smokewas.

Two forty-two.

She rolled on her other side, hit her pillowtwice – honestly, they called that apillow but it was so soft it hardly filled its purpose – and closed her eyes,willing sleep to come and take her.

It was too silent.

Who could even sleep in such a place? Shemissed the background buzz of the city behind the soundproof glass. It wasenough to prevent the noise from being a bother but never enough to cut it out completely. The city was always there,within reach, comforting. Who neededthat much silence?

She didn’t like silence. Her parents’ house hadalways been too silent with indifference and latent loathing. She liked music.But music was probably either forbidden or strictly regulated in Thirteen.After all… They were all about soldiers,not artists.

The dark and the silence weren’t a goodcombination.

They threatened to swallow her whole.

She kept on her inner rambling about whyThirteen was the worst place in Panem because she could feel her mind slowlysliding down the familiar path it sometimes took at night when she couldn’tsleep. And she didn’t want to think about dead children right then. She didn’twant to think about all those faces haunting her dreams because…

The metallic squeaking of the door startled herand she laid completely still, not sure if she ought to scream or run for it.The door was slid open and closed slowly, almost as if whoever it was wastrying to be quiet about it. Then there was a muffled thud and a muttered curse and Effie relaxed when she recognized thevoice.

Whatever he had bumped into, it couldn’t havebeen a serious injury because it wasn’t long before he appeared in the sleepingarea. She could feel his presence in the small room, imposing and reassuringall at once. She listened as the silence was finally filled with the soft clicking of a belt being unbuckled andthe ruffling of fabric, followed by the annoyed mutter about bunk beds.

She hummed a tired agreement even as shecrawled back toward the wall to leave him some room to climb up. It wasn’texactly a smooth proceeding.

Eventually though, he managed to get under theblankets, lying on his back and taking up almost all the space on the narrowbed. It didn’t bother her, she snuggled as close as she could, practicallypurring at how warm he was, resting her head on his heart and draping a legover his stomach.

It was one thing she loved about Thirteen,perhaps the only good thing about theDistrict: if Haymitch went to bed at all, it was to hers, no matter whathappened between them. It had taken some getting used to on her part, this newhabit of his to just assume he was welcome in her room at any time and for anyreason but, truly, it thrilled her.He had spent years keeping her at arm’s length, denying her any expression offeelings and now… Now he was treating her as something more than just thefriend he slept with – and she loved that.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked, his voice rough andexhausted. He was always exhausted lately and it wasn’t just about the war. Sheunderstood, she felt the same way. It was also about Peeta and the others. Itwas about the withdrawals they had forced him through.

“I hate this place.” she mumbled as she had athousand times before.

It came out sulky and childish and he snorted,his fingers attacking her loose braid. It wasn’t long before he wasdistractedly playing with her hair, massaging her scalp from time to time, andshe relaxed like a very content cat. The thumping on his heart under her earwas making the silence less overwhelming, the room felt calm rather than deadnow.

She felt safe.

Perhaps it simply came down to that in the end.

She drifted off long before his hand stilled,buried deep in her hair, and his first snore definitively disrupted the silencebut she wasn’t awake to hear it anymore.

[ellanainthetardis]

Haymitch and Effie try not to be caught for obvious reasons when having sex so they keep the volume of their "love making" to a minimum but could you do a one-shot where they simply go "screw it" and have crazy loud unrelenting Hayffie sex as if the world was theirs? That would be magical. XD

So, as some of youhave noticed, I’ve been having troubles keeping up with a prompt a day lately,due to a certain number of reasons ranging from inspiration, passing through‘it’s spring so I want to do stuff outside’ and I’m playing dragon age again,and ending with I’m totally binge writing a huge hayffie story right now andI’m obsessed with it, which means I have less time to actually tackle prompts.

So I will keep to twoprompts a week for now (I’m thinking Tuesday and Thursday because I have thoseafternoons free usually but it may vary from week to week) but probably notfour anymore for the time being. It’s not a carved in stone rule, obviously, ifI’ve got time and inspiration I might publish one a day but… For now, I preferwarning you that it might stick to 2 a week for a little while. I hope nobodymind =)

[X]

Thirteen’s Rules

“Quiet.” Haymitch reminded her when a lowwhimper passed her lips. “Be quiet for me, Princess…”

He soothed that reprimand with a kiss, keepinghis thrusts deep and almost brutal, more frustrated than aroused by the way shewas fighting not to make a sound. It couldn’t be good for Effie. She was sofocused on trying to keep a hold on herself, there was no way she was going torelax enough to actually enjoy it.

Fucking District withits fucking rules…

Thirteen had taken everything from them. Theyhad taken his alcohol and his knife. They had taken her blinding armor ofcolors and her cheerfulness. They would nottake away the sex. Not if he had anything to say about it. It was his lastderivative, his last guilty pleasure in this life, and he would fight for it aslong as he could.

So, of course, contraception wasn’t availableat all in this place and abstinence was the only way to prevent a pregnancy –they had tried that, it had lasted a good total of two days before driving themcrazy and up against the nearest wall, which had prompted them to agree thatwith her fertility problems and his years of alcohol abuse, they would probablybe fine if they were careful about what they did. Of course, with a security astight as it was and with people coming and going to find him and drag him backto Command at every hour of the day, they were now more or less an open secret.Of course, Effie was angry and he was desperate and it made for a bad mix ofrough hate sex.

Of course.

But it wasn’t enough to stop them.

Even if they had been forced to sit through avery embarrassing lecture from a guard the other day about keeping it down forthe neighbors.

It seemed they were being too loud and thatthere had been multiple complains from the adjoining compartments.

Effie had sat through the whole thing lookingstoical, with a touch of polite interest on her face but not much else. Thewhole thing had enraged Haymitch to no end. The lecture had been given on thethreshold of her compartment, public enough that he was sure a few peoplepassing by had heard, and had so clearly be meant to humiliate them or to makethem feel ashamed – well, her mostly,he figured, because he wasn’t that vocal in bed – that it was all he could do notto punch the guy.

And he had never been prouder of Effie thanwhen she had simply smiled at the soldier at his end of his little speech, hadthanked him for sharing his concerns and had simply shut the door in his face.

They had avoided having sex again for a fewdays because, as much as it annoyed him, he knew it wouldn’t be that easy.

And there they were, with Effie keeping hereyes shut tight, breathing hard through her nose, her neck strained, so red inthe face, her hands clenching the crumpled standard sheets under her back…

He pressed a kiss on her throat, not quiteenjoying himself either. He didn’t like seeing her like that, restraining herself. She was sobeautiful when she lost control…

“Don’t.” she croaked. “Just… Finish, please.”

“You ain’t going to come like that,sweetheart.” he sighed, slowing down his pace. He hooked his elbow under herknee, forcing her leg higher, switching angle, hoping that maybe… What came outof her mouth was almost a sob. She bit down on her hand and he frowned,immediately prying it loose from her teeth. “None of that.” he chided her.

“I hatethis place.” she spat. “I hate it.”

“Yeah.” he agreed wholeheartedly, resting hisforehead on her collarbone, trying to convince his hips to stop their rocking.“Look, we’re just gonna…”

“You can finish.” she cut him off, snatchingthe pillow from under her head to press it against her face.

With each new thrust, she hugged the thingtighter and he was afraid she would suffocate. He held on for a couple ofminutes and then took it away and tossed it on the floor, far enough that shewouldn’t accidentally kill herself out of frustration.

“What do you need?” he asked, lips pursed inirritation. “What can I do to help?”

She shook her head. “If I let go, I won’t bequiet, Haymitch. It is not you. You are doing it very right, which is the problem…”

He stared into her blue eyes, calculating, andthen came to a decision.

“Fuckthem.” he declared, punctuating that statement with a brutal thrust. “Screamfor me.”

A strangled noise escaped her throat but shebundled the sheets in her hands even more, as if trying to find purchase.

“We will get in trouble.” she reminded him inan urgent whisper. “It is not worth it. You will…”

“Oh, yeah, it’s worth it.” he grumbled. “Ifthey’ve got a problem with us having fun in bed, maybe they need to loosen up alittle, have a good fuck of their own. Might even take that pole off their collectiveass.”

“But…” she argued and it morphed into a longmoan when he bit down on her neck.

“I’ll take care of anyone who complains.” hepromised. “Don’t worry your pretty little head…” The tension slowly left herbody to replaced by another, more pleasurable, kind. He could have gotten highon the little sounds she made before it became full moans and whimpers. Herewarded each and every one of them with open-mouth kisses on her sweaty skin,tongue poking at her flesh. “So beautiful…” he coaxed against her mouth,slipping his free hand between their bodies when she started wriggling a littleunder him. “Come for me, sweetheart…”

“Haymitch!” she shouted, loud enough to beheard two compartments away probably.

It made him smirk and he sunk his teeth on herneck in a kiss that would leave a mark, somehow answering to the primitive urgeto claim her as his. His thrusts werefrantic now and he hooked her leg even higher, thankful that she was soflexible because she was boneless under him and no help at all, lost to her ownbliss.

He felt her fingers run in his hair and downhis sweaty back, felt them trail lower until they shamelessly grope him hard,nails digging into the tender flesh of his butt cheek…

“My name.” she requested. “Say my name…”

It was more than he could take.

He barely had time to pull out before he cameon her stomach and breasts with a rare loud groan that vaguely sounded like hername. For a moment, he rested his whole weight on her, too far gone to think orcare.

She kept him there, one hand coiled at the backof his nape, her legs hooked around the back of his thighs. Eventually helooked up, feeling the sticky mess on their chests resisting the pull, andlicked his lips because she was so beautiful, so sexy, he could almost go for a second round. She had tossed herfree arm over her head on the mattress and she had that particular spark in hereyes that she always got after a good fuck.

He felt sorry for anyone who could ever thinkstopping her from being loud in bed was a good idea.

As far as he was concerned, it was part of thefun and he loved it.

And he didn’t care if it was bothering theneighbors.  

It was one thing to be quiet when they werehaving a quickie in the restrooms, in a supply closet or in a locked room in apublic place but it was completely another to be quiet in bed, where they couldtake their time and where it wasn’t about the rush of a hasty affair.

“I used my allotted hot water time for the dayalready.” she pouted.

“Yeah, me too.” he winced.

Five minutes of hot water every day wasn’tmuch.

She groaned even as he pressed an apologizingkiss against her throat. He should have known better and aim to the side. Itwas easier to clean messes from sheets or the floor than from themselves.

“I am sonot in the mood for a cold shower…” she complained. “I am finally warm…”

“We’re sweaty anyway.” he pointed. “We’ll catcha cold. Come on.”

He dragged her out of bed. She followed more orless willingly, knowing he was right but not happy about it.

He didn’t like cold shower any more thananybody but he didn’t mind them so much either. Cold water was all that oftenhad been available in his childhood and Twelve wasn’t exactly Four, you didn’tgrow up there and not develop a tolerance for low temperature. Effie, on the otherend, was sensitive to the cold and was forever complaining about the lack ofproper heating in Thirteen.  

The shower was small.

It was barely more than a square on the floor –and it left water everywhere in the tiny bathroom every time they used it. Heusually had to duck his head if he wanted to get it under the streamingfreezing water – which he wasn’t keen on at the moment. Fitting together inthere was a feast they had yet to perfect but Effie didn’t quite seem to mindthat her back wasn’t completely under the spray. She cleaned herself up veryquickly and stepped away, leaving him room to do the same.

Since she had yet to be assigned a roommate,there was only one towel and they were forced to share – which she grumbledabout a little. By the time she was back in woolen socks, the long-sleevesundershirt she had stolen from him and a pair of loose grey cotton pajamasbottoms – with which she had a love-hate relationship with because she hated sleeping in pants even though itkept her warmer than anything else she owned – her teeth were still chattering.

She hurried back into bed and under theblankets, immediately snuggling up against him when he eventually joined her.She trapped her cold feet between his legs, sneaked her freezing hands underhis shirt and buried her nose in his neck. It wouldn’t be comfortable to sleepbut he knew she would shift at some point after a few minutes, probablyinsisting on him draping his whole body over hers by spooning her, so she couldsleep in a warm cocoon.

Thirteen had forced them to adopt domestichabits he wasn’t quite sure about.

He disliked sleeping in his own compartment ifshe wasn’t there. He didn’t even mind justgoing to bed without anything happening if it meant having her close at night.He was slowly being forced to acknowledge feelings he had been denying for solong it almost was ridiculous…

Yeah…

Thirteen sucked.

“Will they punish us, do you think?” shewhispered, sounding a bit worried.

With good reason, he guessed. Punishmentsaround there hardly fitted the crimes.

“They won’t touch you.” he mumbled, turning hishead to her hair. Something else he wouldn’t really have done before. Gesturesof affection were getting out of hand on his part lately. Somehow, they hadstarted to become natural responses and…  

“You do not know that.” she breathed out.

“Oh, yeah, I do.” he snorted. “They need me andKatniss. Coin’s not a fool enough to go after you now… It’s not a total freepass but… She won’t go after us just‘cause we…”

“Have enthusiastic sex?” she finished, ateasing note in her voice.

“Yeah, that.” he chuckled briefly.

She chuckled too, right into his neck and hetried not to love the intimacy of it as much as he truly did.

“I love having enthusiastic sex with you.” sheteased. “It is the best sex.”

“The best, yeah?” he smirked, probably a bit toosmug.

Her chuckles turned to giggles and she shiftedon her other side, pulling his arm over her waist, effectively forcing her tobecome a human blanket. He wrapped himself around her willingly enough, mainlybecause with the war raging outside and so much of their friends missing, hecouldn’t help but feel overprotective of the ones he had close.

He was drifting off, lulled to sleep by thedistracted patterns her nails were drawing on his forearm, when she finallyanswered.

“The verybest.” she murmured, almost to herself. “The only kind I want for the rest ofmy life.”

Months earlier, it would have sent him in apanic.

Now, it still unsettled him but not enough thathe bolted from the bed.

He kissed her nape instead.

“Go to sleep, sweetheart.” he muttered. “Maybewe can get you to wake the neighbors tomorrow morning…”    

It would certainly be more fun than the sirenthat passed for an alarm clock in this place.