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babiedemon · 9 months

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THE GREAT WAR . . . katniss everdeen / reader

genre . . . angst, hurt/comfort, mockingjay era, movie-based

tw . . . major character deaths, pstd, slight gore

district thirteen was boring, to say the least. you’d been there for weeks following the destruction of your district. a bunker underground was your last choice for comfort, but it was a lot better than the ashen shambles of the home you’d escaped from.

the only bonus you counted was the presence of katniss everdeen, the mockingjay for all intents and purposes. she was complicated, to say the least, and especially as a roommate.

there wasn’t a single night where you weren’t woken by her tortured screams, by her delirious sleepwalking through the compound. and there wasn’t a single night where you weren’t clambering up to her bunk, sinking in beside her, following her through corridors.

“i’m sorry you got stuck with me,” she’d rasped one night, both your heads submerged in a private world beneath a blanket. you’d chuckled, brushed a few dark hairs from her eyes.

“it’s not stuck if i signed up for it,” you’d whispered back. she’d smiled then, a half smile that hardly reached her eyes.

“i signed up for a lot of things i wished i hadn’t.” the words had hurt your heart, the large portion dedicated specifically for her.

“if i hadn’t, i would’ve spent the rest of my time here wishing i had.” she’d sighed, fought the smile on her lips, avoided eye contact.

it was that night that you first entertained the idea that, perhaps in an ideal world, you could care for katniss. that you could love her in ways other than camaraderie.

katniss looked good in grey. you acknowledged this from the other side of the atrium, your gaze crossing dancing bodies and gleeful faces to observe her steely expression. you could see the contemplation on her placid visage, the slight crease of her eyebrows, the frown tugging just barely at the corner of her lips.

she was planning, brainstorming, setting her sights on a new goal. you could tell from the sea of thoughts swarming in her grey seam eyes. you could see the hint of pain on her face, either from her recent exposure to the shambles of peeta mellark or the bruised ribs occupying her chest.

johanna approached her, the shadowed cheekbones and shaved head only adding to her dismaying persona. she and katniss spoke for a few long moments, johanna’s free facial expressions a stark contrast to the guarded feelings of katniss. it left a bad taste in your mouth, a dread in your stomach. you didn’t like it, especially as katniss seemed to let relief wash over her for the first time in weeks.

something was happening, and it was bound to be a train wreck.

you were right, as your gut typically was. you gave yourself no time to triumph your infallible intuition, the plane jolting as it touched down in rebel headquarters, as it touched down within a half mile of katniss’s whereabouts. you were the first to leave as the doors opened, a bulletproof vest hanging off your shoulders and a rifle weighing on your fingertips. finnick lingered meters behind you, and after him were boggs, pollux, castor, messalla, and cressida.

you couldn’t stop the smile from breaking on your face upon spotting katniss’s dreary face hidden amongst her squad members. you were struck with tunnel vision, briskly walking to your brunette comrade, ignoring the burn in your calves in favor of reaching her.

“y/n?” she inquired, face confused and eyes lit up, already bounding towards you. you opened your arms for her, slowing your pace and letting her fall into you. you could feel the relief settling into her bones, her muscles relaxing into your chest, a troubled sigh heaving from her bruised lung. “what are you doing here?”

“i think the better question is what are you doing here? you’re supposed to be back in thirteen,” you chastised, voice stern despite the aching dread fleeing your stomach. she chuckled breathily, muscles tensing back up, your words chasing every drop of sudden joy from her thin frame.

“i had to kill him. i had to kill snow,” she whispered, loud enough for only your ears.

there was another suspicion of yours confirmed. she’d signed herself up for certain death under the smallest inkling of a chance to murder her worst enemy. so much for being selfish, you mused. there wasn’t a selfish bone in her entire brittle body.

the pods were a nightmare. you decided this as you watched a stream of flame erupt and a peacekeeper vehicle explode, shrapnels of molten metal flying in every direction. they were deadly, unpredictable, unable to be entirely safe from.

somehow, you found peeta mellark’s arrival to be more of a nightmare. he was muttering to himself, trampling over the marble ruins of the capitol, clearly out of his mind as he made his best effort to join your unit. you’d been given the grand responsibility of cuffing him, the battered look on his haunted face sending wave after wave of sorrow wracking through your body.

he was once kind, a sweet baker’s boy with a talent for paint. he’d hugged you once as a child, after helping you up from your uncoordinated trip over uneven pavement. he hadn’t known you then, and he didn’t know you now, the recognition absent from his hollow eyes. that was what pained you the most. he was an empty shell of the kind soul he once was. you could see the pain on katniss’s face, too.

nightfall had arrived, and your watch had finally ended, leaving you exhausted in the wake of your eventful day. katniss sat upright behind your head, her thigh just barely brushing the ends of your hair, her fidgeting sending shockwaves through the cement and into your body. you let your eyes crack open, squinting up at her in the dark ruins of what was once a home.

her eyes were far away, reflecting some distant feeling of chaos and dread. you had a feeling it wasn’t so distant from her, not with the source of all her stresses slumbering a few feet to her left. her hand had begun absentmindedly twirling your hair, her face showing no signs of awareness. it was enough to lull you to a restless sleep amidst all the chaos.

you awoke to her body clambering from the floor and her boots snapping with each quick step from you. you arose drowsily, sweeping your gun into your hand, and followed her outside. she was brittle, as was shown by the tortured contortion of her freckled face. she barely cast a glance your way in all of her inner turmoil.

the most you could do was rub her shoulder and hope for the best.

boggs was in less than top working condition, his legs having been blown off mere moments before. your hands shook as you struggled to secure a tourniquet around what was left of his left leg. he wasn’t going to make it, and you knew this in your core, but you couldn’t live knowing you hadn’t at least tried to save him.

the blood rushed out in copious amounts, staining your hands and the marble ground of his final resting place. wails and cries of one of the leeg sisters, leeg two of you weren’t mistaken, were merely background noise, your hearing taken by the rush of your heart in your chest and your own desperate, whimpering sobs. you were only pulled from your frenzied haze by castor’s hand grasping your shoulder, a somber look on his face as he shook his head.

the grief was short lived, leeg one setting off a pod in her attempt to tend to her sister. you were the first on your feet upon seeing the courtyard closing in, your feet carrying you to the nearest building. katniss lay at the back of your mind, your adrenaline kicking in and your survival instinct prioritizing your own self-preservation.

it was your gun that shattered the glass door, and your footsteps that echoed first in the empty shell of a townhouse, and your mangled cry that carried down the stairs upon finding the stairs dismantled. you made your best attempt at finding a way up them, somehow tugging yourself up onto the crumbling stone by exposed metal braces.

you waited for only a few moments before katniss appeared in view, face red and eyes darting, searching the small crowd of her unit. you noted the absence of holmes alongside boggs, and your heart sunk. you’d lost not one, but two.

“where’s y/n?” you heard, her voice frenzied and dripping with her anxiety. the black goo had infiltrated the building, gushing in at such high velocities you were scared you’d all drown in it. it kissed the edge of the stairs, climbed up them slowly, slowing to a complete stop just as it touched the top of the staircase.

“shit,” gale muttered, his face crestfallen as he mourningly gazed out to the sea of black flooding the courtyard. it was then you remembered you had a voice, your throat having been closed the entire duration of the short lived conversation. you peaked around the corner from where you’d climbed up to the next landing, now sobered from your adrenaline rush and realizing just how far of a jump it would be to get yourself down. how had you gotten up here?

“up here, kat,” you called, voice breaking mid sentence, breathy and terrified. relief leaked into her not because of the lethal goo draining from the building, but from the realization that you had in fact made it out.

“how in the hell did you get up there, sunshine?” cressida breathily chuckled, her nose scrunched as a crooked smile took her face and her head tilted. you shrugged, eyes darting as you attempted to plan your descent.

“i haven’t the slightest clue. can someone help me down?” you asked timidly, slowly inching to the edge of the decimated staircase. gale and pollux made their move, both being the largest men, with finnick ready to support if need be.

you got down, but not without a few bruises and a hefty amount of brute force. you’d jumped to save time, gale barely catching you and ending up slamming into the plaster behind him. it was katniss who settled you on your feet and it was katniss who pushed you behind her.

“give me the pod, everdeen,” jackson demanded, her face somehow harder than usual. katniss was defiant, refusing the give up the pod, a lie tumbling from her lips faster than the rate at which all weapons were lifted. you were just as steely as jackson, rifle lifted to your chest, aimed for her head, eyes narrowed and fierce.

“it’s true,” cressida interjected, stepping in the direct line of fire. you admired her bravery, the gall she’d never hesitated to make use of, remained unfazed by the barrel of a weapon aimed at her head. “coin wants it televised.”

you all knew it was a lie, every last one of you. the mission from the start was to film propos until the rebels took president snow into custody. it was common knowledge amongst both the soldiers and district thirteen’s film crew. katniss was a terrible liar, but with more against her than supporting her, jackson had no choice but to back down. it was an outnumbered match and there were peacekeepers minutes away. your unit had to move, and quick.

seeing your face paired with a canon was the last thing you’d expected to see broadcast in a capitol home. you and gale had made quick work of devouring handfuls of snacks left by the homeowners, a frown on your face as your mind struggled to wrap around the events transpiring moments ago.

the leeg sisters were dead, blown to bits by peacekeepers nearly an hour before. boggs was dead, holmes was dead, and there was no way out except down. you knew this, and you knew it well. your numbers were dwindling, and if your unit had any chance at survival, the best way to proceed would be through the sewers and underground railways.

katniss was in a worse state than you, her entire body down to her eyes dissheveled and frantic. she hadn’t stopped shaking since you’d arrived in the townhouse across the courtyard, a distracted gleam in her grey eyes. you hoped she could make it through this alive.

sewer water was surprisingly cold, chilling you to your core. you lingered just behind katniss, the light of the holo guiding your way, your hand braced against the hem of her vest. the water reached your shoulders, smelling rancid and leaving a grimy feeling against your skin.

“i don’t like this,” you whispered to katniss, your voice echoing in the flooded pipes. she let out a shaky sigh and nodded, a smile hardly lifting the corner of her mouth.

you reached a resting point at last and you were hot on her heels, just behind her in clambering up the ladder. you were panting as you collapsed on the lifted platform, chilled as the dirty water dried to your skin and protective clothing.

“get some rest,” katniss heaved, eyes darting to meet yours, knuckles brushing yours. a jolt of electricity jumped through your arm. you could feel the heat of your face in your eyes. she smiled, a small gesture that barely stretched past the small curl of her lips and the slight crinkle of her eyes, but it was enough for you — enough to show she cared.

“i don’t think i could if i wanted to,” you whispered, punctuating your statement with a chuckle. you looked down at yourself, at the other rebels hidden away with you. your gaze lingered on peeta, the exhaustion clear on his dozing face. “besides, our watch starts soon. we’ve still got peeta to look after.”

“still, get some rest ‘til then.” you nodded hesitantly, letting your head lean back against the concrete railing. she sighed, a soft sound that echoed in the crowded space. her forearm slid behind your head, hand curling to cup your cheek, and guided your temple to her shoulder. the scratchy gear was uncomfortable against your skin.

you hadn’t realized you’d fallen asleep until your watch started. katniss jolted, waking you with such suddenness that a violent gasp escaped your lips and your hands automatically came to grip your rifle. your eyes darted around, finally piecing together the situation, and you let yourself heaven a soft sigh of relief.

peeta and katniss exchanged a few words as you sat, words you couldn’t bring yourself to eavesdrop on. your eyes, instead, scoped the dark enveloping your unit. there wasn’t much to see, wasn’t much to hear beyond the drip of water and the faint light rippling in the sewer water.

it was a long while until there was something to hear, screams of avoxes echoing distantly in the sewer system. katniss was quick to descend the steel ladder into the murky abyss below. you followed diligently, rifle up and aimed at the dark tunnel she shone a light down. your own light was on, shining a bit further than the holo’s, casting a white glow on the walls and water a hundred meters away.

“what is it?” you whispered as quietly as possible. katniss was equally as confused, eyebrows furrowed and eyes large. it wasn’t until peeta jolted awake that you realized there was something truly to fear lingering in the tunnels.

“we gotta go,” he gasped, horrified, eyes as wide as saucers and face paler than you’d ever seen it. he practically jumped down from the platform, using only one rung to guide himself down. “they released mutts!”

all was well, until it wasn’t. you’d been the second person to climb through the small concrete window, joining pollux on the other side. gale crept across next, then katniss, and peeta, and finnick, until jackson remained. she swept over her surroundings with a piercing light, turned to face you, and froze. you didn’t need any other sign, taking hold of pollux’s hand and dragging him along with you. your warning bells were going mad, adrenaline flooding your muscles and sending you into overdrive.

an explosion lit the passageway behind you, and gale’s fiery shots illuminated your way through the winding sewers. the mutts were gaining, castor’s agonized screams echoing hauntingly loud in your ears. you pushed down your tears, your sorrow, and ran. you ran until you reached an opening, until you reached a ladder, and swung around with your rifle in hand.

“go! go!” you shrieked, shooting down every grotesque capitol creation you could aim for. katniss disappeared into the water, dragged off the metal platform by a mutt. you felt like you couldn’t breathe, shooting anything that moved, even after katniss had ascended, until you and finnick were the only soldiers remaining in the convergence. finnick shoved you, breaking your spell, a mutt only barely missing your jugular. its teeth sunk into your shoulder, ripped apart by finnick’s small dagger. your scream echoed, tearing through your throat.

“christ, y/n, go!” he bellowed. it took nothing more for you to spin on your heel and begin your ascent to your unit, to katniss. her eyes jumped between you and finnick, her arm outstretched to help you up. the pain radiated into your spine, your rib cage, your elbow. it was blinding and it was everywhere. you finally grasped katniss’s shaking hand, letting her and gale rip you away from the opening quicker than the mutt had ripped into you.

“oh my god, y/n. oh my god,” gale gasped, fingers applying pressure to the gaping, bloody wound stretching into your nervous system. you smacked his hand away, a hiccuping sob shrieking from your chest. you dragged yourself onto your feet, scooping up your weapon, tugging pollux’s hand with teary eyes.

“please. pollux, please, we need out,” you wailed, eyes blindly darting for an exit. you pushed through once you’d found it, rifle up and aiming the second you passed through. you were running, the footsteps of your comrades sounding behind you. you saw the peacekeepers before they saw you, a gut feeling guiding your aim. you’d shot down as many as you could see, bullets whizzing past.

circular panels in the ceilings began lighting, dread sinking into your stomach. upon a glance over your shoulder, you realized messalla hadn’t noticed in time. an unidentifiable mass of smoking cubes made up what was once a dear friend, another piece of your heart breaking as the capitol stole yet another life from your grasp. you turned your attention back forward, pushing against the wheezing in your lungs and the ache in your shoulder and the burn in your legs. you reached the stairs before the others, pausing to let them catch up.

peeta lay crumpled on the floor, rotating saws having broken the tile floor where you’d all ran mere moments ago. you struggled to catch your breath, the adrenaline proving to be the best natural stimulant. if it weren’t for the pure terror coursing through your veins, you were sure you wouldn’t have made it out of the sewer. you were certain finnick would’ve had to leave you.

where was finnick?

you gave yourself no time to dwell, cressida’s body pushing past you, darting up the stairs and leaving nothing but a gust of wind in her wake. you followed closely behind the others, holding up the rear, your rifle aiming in every direction.

“open the door!” cressida was shouting, slamming her hand repeatedly against the glass door. “open the door! let us in!”

the shouting didn’t stop until you filed in, slamming the door shut with your injured shoulder. it sent a violent wave of agony through your body. you collapsed with a hand cradling your bleeding wound, tilting your head to the ceiling.

“come on,” katniss breathed, thumb stroking your cheekbone. you shook your head, sob after sob wracking through your body. you’d never felt such a horrible pain in your life, stretching to your very core, leaving all your organs aching in its wake.

“i can’t, i can’t,” you wheezed, struggling to find your airway again. katniss was grounding, her fingers stroking yours, her hand settling on your chest above your vest. you found your breathing that way, with her palm reminding you where your lungs were.

“one more ladder. i promise,” she spoke, voice calm despite the alarm you spotted in her eyes. you crawled to the edge of the trap door. your hands found the railing. you managed to drag yourself down, to plant yourself on the concrete ground. katniss landed seconds after you, her arm wrapping around your middle. she helped you to the nearest unoccupied wall, the two of you collapsing together.

“i’m so sorry,” she wailed. “there was no plan. coin didn’t send me to kill snow. i killed them. i killed them all — finnick — oh god, i’m so sorry, pollux.”

“we knew,” you gritted out, vision growing black around the edges. “we all knew you were lying. we made the decision to come with you.”

you blacked out seconds later, the blood loss finally getting to you as your adrenaline dissipated.

you awoke late the next day to a quiet shuffling about. your shoulder was still painful, but it was a bit less excruciating now, and your head was absolutely killing you. you sat yourself up slowly, letting the blood flow slowly move through you as you situated yourself. you found that you were the only person remaining in the hidden bunker, soft chatter carrying through the open hatch.

“hello?” you called, voice croaky and hoarse. all movement on the higher floor stopped, heavy shoes trekking over top of you until cressida’s mop of blonde hair sunk over the edge. she looked relieved to see you awake, in all your undressed glory.

your top half had been undressed to your undergarments, a thick layer of gauze holding pressure to your wound, your skin prickling as cold air wafted over it.

“morning, sunshine,” she breathed, a bit more relief in her tone than you were comfortable with. gunfire sounded in the distance, hardly loud enough to touch the underground bunker, but loud enough to alarm cressida. “shit.”

“katniss is out there, isn’t she?” you asked meekly, an unsettling dread weighing on your stomach like a boulder. the blonde gave a nod, worrying her lip between her teeth. her head disappeared and her feet appeared, scaling down the ladder to join you in your underground prison.

“she and gale went together, disguised themselves as refugees. they were hoping to infiltrate the manor, but it sounds like the rebels got there first.”

you sighed as you settled back onto your makeshift cot, wincing as the uncomfortable floor brushed your shoulder the wrong way. cressida shook her head with a faint smile, touching her fingers to the white bandaging.

“you’re lucky you’re even alive, sunshine. we almost lost you. the blood loss got to you before i had a chance to let you decide how much of your clothes i cut off,” she mused, her eyes alight with pain.

“i’m sorry about messalla,” you croaked. “i know you guys were close. castor too.”

“don’t worry about them. it wasn’t your fault. we knew what we were getting into. we were all willing to die for this cause. we made this choice.”

you let out a sigh, eyelids growing heavy. “i’m falling asleep again,” you muttered. you were out before you’d had a chance to hear her response.

district twelve was quaint as ever. the seam was in shambles, the merchant square in scarcely better shape. you’d finally been given permission to return home following correspondence with katniss and haymitch, gifted a spare room in katniss’s home. you knew she needed the company. lord knows how suffocating it must be in that vacant manor, without her mother, without prim.

“i missed you, kat,” you sighed as she finally wrapped you in the embrace you’d missed painfully. she let out a chuckle, the first authentic laugh you’d heard from her since the seventy-fourth games.

“missed you too, sunshine. let’s get inside,” she breathed, cupping your face as she released you from her gentle grasp. she smiled at you, and it was different this time. there was something different shining in her eyes — something different from the way gale looked at her, from the way haymitch looked at effie, from the way finnick looked at annie. there was something different, but something so similar.

“let’s go home.”

the great war was over.

the great war was over, and with the end had come peace. you still held the scars as a reminder, as most of panem did. you held them in your heart, in your mind, in the skin of your shoulder. katniss held them too, in the occasional wheezing, the tormenting nightmares, the fragments of her heart.

“your scars are healing nicely,” she murmured, standing in the doorway to the bathroom, a soft smile lingering on her full lips. you gave a weak smile, tracing the raised, grotesque bite marks spotting your bare shoulder.

she was right. they were healing nicely. but they were a reminder, of finnick, of castor, of messalla, the leegs, primrose, boggs, holmes, jackson. they were a reminder of all those you’d lost, all the lives taken in the great rebellion. they were a reminder of johanna, finnick, annie. a reminder of cruelty and unnecessary bloodshed.

“i wish the inside ones would heal too,” you hummed, tugging a loose shirt over your head. katniss heaved a great sigh, past memories reflected in her granite eyes.

“i do too, sunshine.”

her hand found yours, and your faces found the sun, and your bodies finally found the relaxation they’d craved for generations.

all was at peace.

the peace lingered until the dreams came. they were suffocating, torturous, unbearable. katniss had them worse than you ever would, but she’d never vocalize that. she’d never belittle your suffering because hers was greater.

instead, she’d crawl into your bed, wrap her thin arms around your waist, cradle you until the crying stopped. she usually hadn’t gotten to sleep yet anyways.

your bed had become hers. she spent more time curled around you than settled in her own sheets. it was reminiscent of your days in district thirteen, of the bunk beds and the grey clothing. it was different now, though.

the hesitation in her movements had gone, along with the hefty wall she’d used to guard her inner workings. it was all gone, and she was revealed to you, unraveled before your eyes like some sacred scroll only you had access to.

“remind me why i let you sleep in my bed, again,” you mused late one night, your fingers stroking her cheekbone, your eyes unable to leave the sun kissed skin of her round face. she chuckled, rolled her eyes, tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

“because you love me.” a pause. “and i love you.”

you captured her lips in a chaste kiss, rested your forehead against hers, took a deep breath.

“i love it when you say that.”

“then i’ll keep saying it, every single day until you grow tired of it. and then i’ll keep saying it, every single day until i can no longer speak.” her nose brushed yours, her breath fanning over your face, her lips just barely brushing yours as she spoke.

“that sounds like a long time.” she kissed you, firmer, longer, until she couldn’t breathe and you couldn’t think, until you could no longer distinguish where your skin ended and her skin started.

“i’m hoping for forever.”

#the hunger games #katniss everdeen x reader

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babiedemon · 9 months

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MISERABLE MAN . . . haymitch abernathy / reader

genre . . . fluff, post-war

warnings . . . age gap, mentions of war, swearing, sexual themes

inspired by miserable man — david kushner

haymitch was a drunk. he was a miserable old man with a bad temper and a lifetime worth of pent up trauma. even with the newfound peace, the end of the rebellion, the birth of a fair nation. you knew no matter the time, the level of freedom, he’d forever be a miserable old man.

you mulled over this as you approached his home, a looming tower of a house in the shambles of district twelve. you’d taken the train there, what was once a capitol luxury now a simple means of transportation. the gravel of the deserted district crunched beneath your designer boots, ricocheting off empty buildings of the desecrated town.

there was no response to the heavy knock you left on his door, or one of the side windows, or the back door. you’d almost given up hope, prepared to break the door off the hinges, muttering angry words to yourself as you rounded the side of the house, when you caught sight of a moving figure in the distance. you couldn’t mistake that mop of black hair for anything else in the world, the long hair of the former face of rebellion.

“hey, katniss!” you called over the wind rushing in the space between you. she brought her hand up to wave, a pair of squirrels dangling from her fingers, a slight smile on her softened face.

“hey, eagle eye!” she shouted in response, an echoing reminisce of your rebel nickname. “what brings you to twelve?” she was closer now, close enough for you to pinpoint where her eyes sat over her nose, the once hardened stone color softened to a plush storm cloud. she stopped a few feet before you, eyes giving you a onceover.

“here to see the drunk. any idea if he’s home?” you inquired, lifting your eyebrows. katniss tilted her head to the side, squinted against the piercing rays of the setting sun.

“knowing haymitch, he’s probably drunk off his ass right about now. he usually leaves a window cracked in the front if you wanna try getting in that way,” she suggested, switching the tails of the squirrels from one hand to the other in favor of scratching her eyebrow.

“thanks a bunch, kat. i’ll be sure to pay you a visit sometime before the week ends. lord knows i’ll have my hands full with mitch,” you hummed, slowly backing away as you spoke. she bid her silent goodbye the same way she’d bid her welcome, lifting a single hand as she parted ways toward her towering home.

you found the crack in the window almost as soon as you’d reached the top of haymitch’s stairs and pried it open, the metal frame squealing in protest as you forced the pane of glass wide enough for your body to fit through.

getting in was much harder, your body falling on the floor and taking out half the items displayed crudely on his windowsill. you were certain that you’d gained at least a few bruises from the tumble it took for you to reach the hardwood floor, a grimace on your face as you inspected your exposed, aching elbows.

“what the hell are you doing here?” haymitch sighed, his voice carrying over to the foyer from his place on the living room sofa. you couldn’t see him, and you doubted he could see you, but you guaranteed from your loud entrance he could deduce it wasn’t his usual visitor.

“is that how you greet all of your long distance girlfriends?” you asked dryly, pushing yourself up from the floor with a few grunts. you rounded the foyer into the living room, spotting haymitch’s salt and pepper curls from the entryway.

“‘s how i greet everyone, sweetheart. get used to it,” he muttered, making quick work of pouring himself another glass of liquor. his hands trembled violently, likely due to the withdrawal contorting his face, liquor splashing over the edge of his glass and pooling on the mahogany coffee table. you sighed as you seated yourself beside him, took the bottle from his hands, and shot him an unimpressed look out of the corner of your eye.

“how many have you had?” you asked, studying the hazy sheen over his stormy eyes. he tutted, lazily rolling his eyes, his body sinking into the cushions.

“only three today. woke up about six hours ago, so i’d say that’s pretty tame,” he remarked. you suppressed the agitated sigh and tipped the bottle, pouring a hefty amount of whiskey into his chosen cup.

“i thought for sure when you didn’t answer the door you were passed out in your own piss and vomit again,” you murmured, voice softened as you regarded him. he was aging, his stubble shining with a number of grey strands, the curls atop his head beginning to gain more of his eye color with every visit. he’d gained back a bit of weight in his cheeks and stomach since you’d last seen him, his face and gut now rounded out a bit more.

“i figured if it was important, whoever it was would find their way in,” he spoke, voice gruff, a pause interrupting his sentence. “i was right about both. it was important, and you did find your way. besides, i’ll have you know i happen to have cut back on my substance abuse, thank you.”

“you know i’ll always find a way to come pester you,” you mused, reclining next to him. you felt a bit of pride swelling in your chest, a smile growing on your lips as you processed his minor recovery from years of raging alcoholism. haymitch’s arm slid easily over your shoulders, an almost inaudible chuckle leaving his lips, the rim of his glass snuffing it at the source.

“you definitely are a pest,” he hummed, tongue lapping up the remnants of whiskey on his lips. “what brings you here anyways?”

“i was hoping we could spend some time together. i’ve missed you,” you spoke softly, your cheeks heating up with your admission. haymitch hummed, his nose brushing the top of your head, the smell of alcohol wafting off of him. you’d come to enjoy the bitter scent, associating it with the man you’d fallen for over the course of your teens and now early twenties.

“missed you too, doll face,” he muttered, letting his head loll against the back of the sofa. his fingertips, ever as tremorous, came to scratch at the itchy stubble spotting his chin. “got some geese around back if you wanna check ‘em out.”

“when the hell did you get geese?” you inquired, face lifted in amusement as your eyes traveled haymitch’s exposed windpipe. the skin there was red, flushed from his consistent substance abuse, and a few scratches laid about from his incessant scratching. your fingers reached to trace the raised lines, smoothing them over with your thumb.

“not that long ago. decided i needed a hobby. shit’s boring around here,” he grumbled, watching you curiously. he realized the source of your focus after a few seconds, clearing his throat embarrassedly. “my hands shake too much to shave now. can’t cut my hair either.” he gestured to the top of his head, where his curls fell unkempt to his chin. you tilted your head to the side, running your fingers through the knotted ends of his dark locks, a smile on your lips.

“i could always trim you up, mitch,” you muttered, picturing different cuts and styles framing his face. if only one thing benefited you from your days as a capitol stylist, it was the cosmetic knowledge. you got free cuts, free colors, free hemming. “i think you’d look pretty good with a shag. your curls would suit it nicely.”

“do whatever gets it out of my goddamned eyes,” he gruffed, grumpy as ever, prompting you to begin your search for his razors and scissors. for a reason you couldn’t place, you’d begun cleaning as you searched as well. you’d washed his clothes, polished the kitchen, dusted the paintings and tables, all whilst he lingered in every doorway with a bottle and glass in hand, eyes watching you with burning intensity.

“you look good cleaning,” he remarked, the devious smirk on his lips hardly hidden by his whiskey glass. he slunk towards you, footsteps slow and wobbly against the hardwood floor.

“you’re only saying that because i’m bent over scrubbing your toilet,” you muttered, standing straight up upon feeling his hips meet yours. he looped an arm around your middle, your heart beating out of your chest as you turned your face to let your gazes meet. his eyes, grey and clouded, held a heady desire you hadn’t seen in months. his body pushed yours partially forward as he leaned, settling his drink on the toilet lid in favor of taking full hold of both your hip bones.

you gulped, face red as you turned in his loose grasp, letting him back you until your hips met the bathroom counter. his hand settled beneath your chin, guiding your head up until your eyes settled back on his, his other palm settling on the marble beside your blushing body. his gaze was honed in on your parted lips, eyebrows furrowed and concentration painting his flushed face.

“haven’t seen you in ages,” he mumbled, voice breathy and depraved as a slight smirk quirked the corner of his lips. you let out a shaky laugh, looping your arms around his neck, toying with the greying curls jutting from the nape of his neck.

“i’m starting to think you missed me more than you let on,” you breathed, pupils dancing over the space between his eyes and mouth. his fingers slid, igniting a fire beneath your skin, thumb caressing your jaw and palm cupping the side of your neck. he let out a soft chuckle, leaning in just barely close enough for his chapped lips to brush the gloss from yours.

“that is the understatement of the century.” his eyes fluttered shut as he pressed a fleeting kiss to your buzzing lips, pulling away much too soon for your eager impatience. you sighed, breath fanning over his scruffy face, eyes squeezing shut as the smell of his musky body soap twisted with the stench of his preferred beverage.

“i’m supposed to be cutting your hair.” you chuckled airily, prying your eyes open to meet his lusted stare. he took a moment to process, no doubt distracted by the touch of your fingers to his exposed collarbone.

“you’ll have to wet my hair, right?” as he spoke, voice husky and eyes dropping to your body, he made agonizingly slow work of undoing the top few buttons of your dress shirt. you followed his train of thought, chest heaving against his fingers, eyes darting to the shower standing to your right.

“i like the way your pretty little head works.” you gripped the collar of his shirt, pulling him down to your level, lips taking his in a short lived, rough kiss. “strip, then.”

“you don’t have to tell me twice, sweetheart.”

you couldn’t help the boisterous laughter tumbling from your chest.

#the hunger games #haymitch abernathy x reader

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