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maraudersilver · 3 months ago

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DOE EYES (Haymitch Abernathy x Fem!Reader) Chapter 6

MASTERLIST Warnings: alcohol consumption, swearing, mentions of death, mentions of sa.

A/N: Sorry for the delay, I'm now both working and studying a new master's degree and I'm trying to have enough time for everything, so I'm sorry if this chapter is written worse than the others. Let me know what you think!

Wc: +3,5K

You gawked at your friend, her hands on her hips. She looked skinnier, beaten and dreary. Dark bags lurked under her eyes that makeup could not cover. And if she looked like that after all the trimming from the prep-team, what was she hiding underneath it? The mere thought made a shiver run down your spine in cold sweat.

“Johanna—”

“Not gonna invite me to a drink? What a way of treating your friends, Y/N,” she interrupted you nonchalantly, sitting by you on the bar.

In your stupor, you stood with your mouth agape and an expression that could only be defined as sorrow on your eyes. It was Haymitch who broke the silence like thunder crashes after a sunny day.

“What do I owe the pleasure?”

He continued speaking with that preen, condescendent tone that was getting on your nerves. Against your better judgement, you huffed, turning your back to him just to look directly at Johanna.

“Wha—?”

“I mentor! Just as you two. Don’t get your hopes up, Haymitch, didn’t come here for you.” She winked at him, a smirk perched on her face constantly as if she hadn’t been missing for months.

Haymitch scoffed, quaffing his glass in one sip. “Do me a favor and leave me alone.”

“Someone’s grumpy,” she murmured in amusement, lifting her eyebrows playfully at you.

“He was already like that when I found him.” You raised your hands, to which Haymitch groaned louder.

Johanna’s hair was shorter. Where once had reached her lower back, now was barely below the shoulders. The way her clothes hung looser than what they usually did was indication of malnourishment. But what victor was malnourished? A one month supply would feed a whole town for a couple days.

Sipping her drink, Johanna smirked before taunting Haymitch again. “Here you are, old as a sequoia and flirting with young little things. Aren’t you shameless?”

“Johanna—,” you warned her.

“And here you are, looking uglier than ever and still thinking high of yourself,” slurred Haymitch with the same bite.

“Oi! Haymitch!”

But to your surprise, Johanna was laughing her head off. You looked at her dumbly, blinking twice in confusion. What the hell was going on?

“It was nice catching up. Maybe I can get you alone later in a certain room, Y/N,” she flirted, and it took you aback for a second before you made the connection. She couldn’t say whatever she wanted in a bugged room. So you just nodded, watching her leave the bar in a confident strut.

“Had the suspicion you were bangging Odair, but never thought of you and Mason,” said Haymitch with a lifted brow.

You scoffed. “Oh, yes, I’m shagging with half the Capitol.”

“Must be itchy down there.”

“Wanna scratch for empiric proof?”

“Nah, I’m fine. Don’t wanna be infected by whatever you have going on in there.”

It was ridiculous. Really. But your eyes damped and your nose started burning. What was wrong with him that day? He wasn’t prince charming by norm, but he was never this mean. With an angry slam to the table, you stood up and threatened Haymitch with a piercing look that did nothing to him, as he was as immovable as ever.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you today, but don’t talk to me unless you apologize,” you spat, and Haymitch just lifted his glass in a toast much to your frustration.

That was the last time you saw him in days. You spent the time mentoring your district kids and sweet-talking possible sponsors. You barely caught a glimpse of Finnick and Johanna, too centered in doing your job the best as you could.

It didn’t take long for the games to start, Keit dying in the bloodbath. At least it was fast, you thought. Luckily, Burry made it out of there and secluded himself in the frozen tundra. It was your time to shine.

Miss Rainwall was your first victim, sponsoring coal for Burry to make some fire. And then you charmed your way over the rooms, working your way in beds as you had been forced to not that long ago. Anything to help that boy survive.

You found Finnick on the third day of the games. You were coming back from an encounter with a Capitol higher up, a business owner who took a long time to convince to sponsor Burry. At least he didn’t have any kinks that showed up on your skin afterwards.

“If it isn’t my girl!” Finnick exclaimed, opening his arms for you to run eagerly. Only, your core felt too sore to be able to move comfortably, to which Finnick caught wind of. He rushed to your side, enveloping you in a warm hug. “Are you okay, sweetheart?” he whispered.

“Yep,” you chirped, hugging him as tightly. “Just tired. How have you been?”

“As busy as you, it seems.”

Dread shrinked in your stomach, he had been forced to perform his usual matiné, but ‘out of will’ this time, just like you. Both his tributes were still alive, so that made him need double the money.

You placed your chin in his chest, looking up at him with a pout. “Wish I could make it easier for you.” It was true. For the last few years you hadn’t been as molested as when you were a teen, but Finnick never stopped being harassed.

He lifted a brow, scanning your surroundings and giving a wicked smile, purring loud enough for the people around to hear. “Maybe you could join me in my next affair.”

Something between a scoff and a laugh left your mouth, but when you heard the coos and admiration from the Capitol guests, you just smirked back. “Is that so? Haven’t played with you in a long time.”

Finnick just nodded, eyes amused when you touched his chest over the shirt. “Can’t wait to feel you again, hotstuff.”

You hated to acknowledge the wet spot in your panties. At the end of the day, you did share a past you were not ready to talk about. The Capitol twats gushed all over you as Finnick took off, not before kissing your hand.

Rolling your eyes while a smile pulled at your lips, you made your way to a table filled with walking wallets. Burry needed some ointment for a cut in his arm, and those were expensive. Didn’t take long for one of them to agree. Apparently, Finnick had promised her a night of fun, and her only condition was for you to join after that ‘erotic’ and ‘sensual’ encounter you had with him at the hall. Fighting back the chills down your spine and the cold sweat collecting by your nape, you agreed.

Little did you know a certain drunken man had been listening to the conversation, and you startled at his approach when he leaned in to pull a dove feather stuck in your hair, to which he stared as if he had seen a ghost for a moment too long. Then, he recomposed quickly. “So I was right about you and Odair.”

You groaned in annoyance, already done with Haymitch. “If you’re here to be a dick then you can leave me alone.”

“I have nothing else to do.” He shrugged. Both his tributes were already dead, so he had all the free time he wanted to get wasted.

“Why don’t you bother the bartender? Maybe he can refill your hip flask.”

“Uhh, so ruthless. No wonder you won your Games with that attitude.”

His breath reeked of liquor, and by the way he was stumbling he had probably had his fair share already. You sighed.“What do you want, Haymitch?”

“Can’t I spend time with the one woman that insists on writing to me? Thought we had something special going on,” he taunted, grabbing his flask and sipping from it like he hadn’t drank anything in years.

“Sorry if I gave you that impression, but I don’t do assholes.”

“You’re bangging Odair.”

“Are you still with that? For fuck’s sake, can’t women and men be friends?” Then you turned to him and saw his insufferable smirk, and you knew he had been teasing you since the moment he approached you. You huffed. “Are you even drunk, Haymitch?”

“Tipsy, at most. But don’t let them know,” he placed a finger on his lips with a knowing look.

You caught yourself before smiling. He had been horrible on the first day of the Games, and he had yet to apologize.

Haymitch huffed at your snarl. “I’m sorry about the other day. I was having a terrible, terrible day. Can you find a place in your heart to forgive me?” He was always so sarcastic that you wondered to what point he was being truthful, but at least he was recognizing his mistake, wasn’t he? You expected it, at least.

You sighed dramatically, looking up as if thinking it thoroughly, and finally glared back at him. “Only if you promise to not be mean anymore to me.”

“I can’t promise that, Doe Eyes.”

“See you—.” You were about to leave, a playful grin on your face, when he pulled you back from your wrist.

“Alright, alright. I promise to try and not be mean to you even when you are a pain in my ass, Doe Eyes.”

“I’m not the one begging for forgiveness here, Haymitch. I would say you’re the pain in my ass.”

He groaned and you snickered, pleased at what your teasing was doing to him. “Grab it or leave it.”

“You didn’t deny it!” I gasped enthusiastically, and he made the motion of walking away. “Okay, I’m grabbing it. But next time, I’m spilling your drink over you.”

“What a threat, to be bathed in alcohol,” he shook his hands in feign terror.

“You almost bit Finnick’s head off when he spilled your drink a few months ago,” you deadpanned.

“That’s different.”

“Is it? How?”

“Stop being annoying, I’m trying to ask you to the bar so I can buy you a drink to make peace with you, dumbass.” Haymitch flicked your forehead, tutting at your laugh. “I always end up stuck with the maddest people in the Capitol,” he complained.

You granted him a pass and let him get away with that comment. It’s not as if he was lying. You had seen him around Chaff and Beetee, and now you, the three of you not the most sane people among victors.

He invited you to a coffee, something you appreciated amply. You hadn’t slept much, worried about Burry and waking up to him dead. He took some nepenthe for himself, and both of you sipped quietly surrounded by yellow lilies.

“So, you speak another language?”

You lifted your head rapidly to him, just to find him with his eyes fixed on his glass. Confused by his question, you nodded dumbly. “Uh, yes. I speak Basque.”

“Interesting,” he mused, circling his glass. “So you’re Basque?”

“Yes,” you furrowed your brows. “Well, I’m from Panem, but I'm a descendant of Basques and I— What’s with all the questioning?”

“I’m just curious,” he slurred. “And anything else? Just the language?”

You were trying to read his expression, but after years of parading around the Capitol, he had become a master of neutral facades mixed with shamelessness. “We have our own mythology, customs, language, gastronomy… Although many things have been lost and others are impossible to perform. Like cooking. We don’t have many of the ingredients necessary.”

Haymitch hummed, glancing at you with his dimmed, grey eyes. “I’ve never heard of Basques. Where did you come from, anyway?”

You giggled at that. It was true your people weren’t studied at school, only the districts who had Basques knew about them, so it wasn’t surprising for Haymitch to be ignorant about you. “We come from the old continent. Apparently our people were running away from a civil war and repression, and ended up in a place called Boise. They were shepherds. I think it was in District 7, but with industry being established in District 6 most of them moved there. Johanna told me there are some Basques still around there, anyway.”

“That’s just some bad luck. Fleeing from war just to end up here and repressed,” Haymitch murmured, no sarcasm in his tone for the first time that day.

You nodded, feeling a little bit appalled. “Yeah. I sometimes wonder how things would have been for them if they had stayed in their land.”

“Who knows, maybe it was worse there than it is here.” He shrugged his shoulders.

“Do you really believe that?”

“No,” Haymitch scoffed. “We have the Games here and ninety percent of the population is dying of starvation.”

You looked around with wide eyes, hoping no one was paying attention to Haymitch. “You don’t mean it. C’mon, let’s get you some water to sober you u—...” The look on Haymitch’s eyes showed a determination you had yet to witness on him, shutting you up in mere seconds.

“Let them think what they want. I meant it when I said I had nothing else to lose. Your ancestors would have been better off staying in that old continent you talk about.” There was no debate. It was true. “Say, can you speak your language freely in District 6?” You shook your head.

“No. I mean, it had never been legal, but until a few years ago we were able to speak and sing and have our ceremonies in peace.”

Haymitch placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, squeezing it lightly at your saddened tone. “What changed?”

“Me,” you admitted, ashamed. “When I sang that mourning song to Sirius— My ally, apparently there were some clashes back in my district. Burned containers, trains on fire, Basque songs and mottos all over the streets… The laws about Basque hardened after that.”

“Seems like something Snow would do, especially covering it up,” Haymitch laughed punginly. “And your family?”

“Surprisingly they survived. I don’t know, I was terrified of finding them dead when I arrived.”

Haymitch stilled next to you, his hand on your shoulder becoming rigid and his eyes misted. In a second, he was back as he usually was, leaving you confused. “If there were riots, killing your family would have only caused more rage among the district. You were lucky.”

You caught on his own sad voice, almost disgruntled. He had been so mean during the first day of the Games, and the past year he had been overly drunk as much. It was so different from the way he behaved the rest of the time, so maybe something had happened to him during his Games that made him act like that on the fourth of July.

You clasped your hand over the one he held at your shoulder and squeezed it back. “Yeah, I got lucky in that sense. But it was a nightmare for my district. Sometimes I think I should’ve died in the bloodbath.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Burry died on the seventh day, two days before the end of the Games. In a very wicked, almost machiavellian thought, you were glad he was gone, because if he won, he would have to suffer the life of a victor. Now both angels were together on the Earth, back to Amalur.

You had done everything in your hand, Finnick could testify on your behalf. And now you had all the free time you wanted, much to your sorrow.

They had removed the pool from the training centre, so the only other enjoyable place was the bar. You were heading there, hoping to find Haymitch on the way, when someone pulled you inside a cleaning room. You were about to maneuver and take them down when a voice you recognised very well spoke from behind you.

“It’s me,” she whispered.

“Johanna!”

“Shh!” Your friend placed a hand over your mouth and waited for a few seconds, as if expecting anyone to open the door. But when everything remained steady, she removed it.

“What are we doing here?” you whisper-yelled, turning around to be face to face with Johanna. She had gained a little bit of weight, but she still was as pale as a ghost.

“Plutarch promised me this closet wouldn't be bugged. I needed to talk to you.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “Yeah, me too. Where the hell have you been? We haven’t seen you in, what? A year? No letters, no phone calls, nothing. We were worried, you know? Sickly worried, and—”

“Y/N. Y/N!” Johanna stopped you, shaking your shoulders with force. “Let me speak, okay?” Her voice clipped, and you knew something was very wrong, because Johanna never cried. So you just nodded, to which she spoke after gathering some breaths. “I was… Still am, no more than ever, isn’t it? But I was in a rebel plan.”

Your breath hitched. “What?”

“Let me finish.” At your silence, she continued. “There was a plan to end the Games last year.”

“There’s a plan to end the Games every single year.”

“Exactly,” Johanna said, exasperated. “But last year it was bigger than I have ever seen. Beetee said there weren't that many people implicated since the last Quarter Quell.”

“Beetee? He was on it, too?”

“Y/N!”

“Sorry, sorry, continue.”

“But some of us got caught. A couple gamemakers, a Capitol rebel, and me.”

You felt your heart quickening. She had been caught. She had been caught.

“Y/N I… I never wanted it to be like that, I can’t get them back.” Johanna started hyperventilating. You grabbed her hand and placed it over your chest, so she started mimicking your breathing, although her sobs were becoming louder. “They drowned them! All of them! My parents, my little sister. Everyone! And it was my fault!”

Heartbroken for her family’s fate, you accompanied Johanna in her mourning, and let her cry on your shoulder, embracing her tightly. Johanna had been missing for a year because her family had been killed. And the first thing you did was scolding her. After years of this, you should had known better.

“It’s okay, Jo, everything’s gonna be okay,” you mumbled in her ear, caressing her head and rocking you both. “I’m with you. Finnick’s with you. You’ll be fine, sweetie.”

It took a while for her breathing to get to its normal pattern, you whispered as many soothing words as you could, knowing deep down that there was nothing you could do to help her other than supporting her grief.

Slowly, she pulled away from you, wiping her tears aggressively with the sleeve of her sweater. So much suffering for a nineteen year old.

“What can I do for you, Jo?”

She shook her head, breathing clipped in trembling sobs. “J-just… Stay here, please.”

“Of course.”

You still had so many questions. A rebel plan? Who had been part of it apart from the people Johanna mentioned? And why didn't you know about it? You were tempted to ask, but didn’t do so until Johanna had been completely calmed and steady.

“Johanna.”

She hummed, looking at you with tired eyes.

“Who else was part of the plan?”

She cocked her head to the side, biting her lip in thought. “Beetee, Chaff, Cashmere, Finnick—.”

“Wait!” Finnick? Finnick knew? “Why did you two know and I was left in the dark about it?”

“That’s what worries you? Not being included?” Johanna furrowed her brows.

“I mean, am I not trustworthy or what?”

She huffed a mirthless laugh. “Do you think this is a game?”

“Of course not! But I would have liked to be in a rebel plan, in case you forgot what happened in my district after I won.”

“Oh, forgive us, miss rebellion for not being able to catch you alone to get you in! Think it this way, at least your family IS ALIVE!”

A bucket of cold water fell over your bones, and shame wrapped around you like a blanket. “I’m sorry.” What were you thinking? Your friend had just lost her whole family because of rioting and this is how you react.

“Yeah, well. Can I continue or are you going to whine about not playing with us on the playground?” Her tone had become bitter, not that you deserved any better. “Plutarch—”

“Plutarch?” I gasped.

Johanna nodded, exasperated at your constant interruption, but you were left there, remembering all the times you had seen Beetee and Plutarch speaking publicly. You had never really paid them any mind, Plutarch was host of many of the events, so it was only natural to speak to him. But him being part of a rebel plan? What if he had been the one to give notice of what was happening among the walls of the Capitol? But that couldn’t be possible or Finnick would have suffered consequences, too. Or did he and he hadn’t told you?

But you couldn’t linger much on your thoughts when the last name left Johanna’s lips.

“And Haymitch.”

Tag list: @beingalive1 @timessa @chivasgozilla @bey0nd-1he-stars @anakhroni3m @heidiland05 @cailleachcola @needz1nk

#haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch x reader #haymitch abernathy #haymitch abernathy x you #haymitch x you #thg haymitch #thg sotr #thg series #sotr #sunrise on the reaping #hunger games #finnick odair #johanna mason

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maraudersilver · 3 months ago

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I'm writing chapter 6 for Doe Eyes and Haymitch has such a soft spot for reader that I'm going to cry. It's not very obvious, but it's there. And Finnick being Finnick hurts so much

#haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch x reader #haymitch abernathy #he's such a loving man #even though he's so bitter

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maraudersilver · 3 months ago

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I need to know if I was too intense with this one or if you guys got weirded out

Nothing you can take from me was ever worth keeping (Haymitch Abernathy x Fem!Reader)

Summary: When Lenore Dove appears in your living room almost thirty years after her death, you fear your husband, Haymitch Abernathy, will never recover.

Warnings: mentions of death, grief, somewhat toxic? thoughts, swearing. Wc: +6K

Fate was callous. That you very much knew. At thirty-two you had lived more cruelties than an average person would in a lifetime. The Games, the losses of loved ones, the rebellion and the toll it took on you. And yet it seemed life was not over with the misseries it could still send your way.

Haymitch and you had been happily married for five years now. Your love story was nothing out of a fairytale. No one in their right mind would ever be part of one after surviving the most traumatic events you can push on a teenager. However, Haymitch proved himself a romantic when, after a few years of tossing and turning, you two finally gave in to the obvious attraction between you and the overbearing feelings that threatened to put more weight on your shoulders under the control of the Capitol.

You learned about his mannerisms, his likes and dislikes, the way he drank his coffee with a considerable jet of liquor. He always claimed he didn’t mind which one to use, but you knew he preferred it with the sweet touch of whiskey over the plonk white liquor they selled in District 12.

He told you about his past when you told him about yours. It took him a while to open up, memories still too painful even after the fall of the Capitol. But you were patient. And you loved him too much to pressure him about it.

Your heart bleeded as he recalled his family, his illegal reaping, the tributes, his sweetheart Louella and what happened to her, Lou Lou and her banished origin, the odds lost to Wyatt, and his sister Maysilee. Bile tripping up your throat when he narrated the way he loved and lost Lenore Dove, the one he thought would be his true love.

And you hated yourself for the pang of jealousy that cursed through you as a lightning would a tree. Burning, destructive and unnecessary, yet impossible to impede. Mixed feelings settled in your chest. Rational thinking told you it was stupid to envy a dead girl, that Haymitch was married to you; fear, however, had other plans. Would you ever be loved by him like she was? Would you ever be enough?

Haymitch had been nothing but loving and doting to you. It was unfair to aim at him the depth of your insecurity. Lenore Dove was dead, a little bird with clipped wings when too young to figure out how to fly. You were ashamed of how fast the thought of a teenager who could never live a full life made your present tremble like the foundations of the empires of old.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Haymitch,” you mumbled sincerely, swallowing the breakfast that was threatening to paint the rug by your feet.

He hummed, tightening his hold around your shoulders and pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “At least I can have you.”

It should have been enough solace, if only your mind wasn’t winding like a venomous and envious viper. Were you his consolation prize?

It all settled down after a few weeks where Haymitch behaved more loving than usual. Bringing breakfast to bed, picking flowers from the meadow and presenting a bouquet for his ‘loveliest flower’, making love to you in an almost reverent prayer. Soft oaths, sweet whispers, taunting touches. You had completely forgotten about the reasoning behind your unnerving fear.

That morning you were both perched on the couch by the porch, watching the sunset in the arms of the person you both loved the most. The mild scent of coffee permeated the open sliding doors of your home along with Haymitch’s cologne, and it meddled with the orange and pinkish colours painting the sky and grass on the horizon. It was perfect.

Out of nowhere, lightning struck down a tree by the far woods. Both Haymitch and you startled, looking up at the sky to confirm there were no clouds surveying the District. Nothing seemed to catch on fire, and after a few minutes of nothing more occurring, you brushed it off, enjoying the caresses and kisses your husband was spoiling you with.

The day transcurred without any more incidents. Katniss and Peeta stayed over for lunch, and dinner was a quiet date between Haymitch and you under the light of candles and the scent of wildflowers he picked for you the day before. It was still brand new, the way your life went from chaos to the peace you now breathed.

Hours later, soft mumbling woke you from your slumber. Confused, you looked out the window to a starry, closed night. It seemed like you still had a long night of sleep ahead. Grinning, you turned around to cuddle Haymitch once more when you noticed he was not in bed, his side of the mattress cold. You furrowed your brows, grabbed his robe by the doorknob and put it over your naked body before walking down the stairs to the dimly lit living room.

Why didn’t Haymitch wake you? Both of you had agreed a long time ago to lean on the other if the nightmares were too much. Poor thing may have felt pity to tag you out the land of dreams and was probably dealing with his horrors by himself. Gnawing at your bottom lip, you raced your steps, hating the thought of him suffering alone.

What you didn’t expect was for a visitor so late at night sitting in front of him. She looked young, really young, with dark skin that glowed under the candle flames and curly brownish hair so pretty it resembled a lion’s mane. She was dressed in a loose dress patched in different fabrics and colours, and her brown boots seemed too large for her.

But what made your heart constrict in anguish was Haymitch’s haunted look. His skin had paled and his eyes, bloodshed in tears so great his grey irises were almost undetectable, were fogged as if he had just seen a ghost.

The moment seemed too thin to break it with your presence, feeling like a stranger in your own home. What was a teenage girl doing in your house, talking to your husband, in the middle of the night? Had she gotten lost in the woods and was looking for shelter? And if so, why hadn’t Haymitch woken you up?

With a shattered breath, you found your voice to mutter a small: “Haymitch?”

He didn’t turn to you immediately, his eyes fixed in the young girl before him. But he had heard you, a small whimper coming out the depth of his throat as a wounded animal would.

In tentative steps, you approached the two of them. The girl was looking at you with curious and gentle bright eyes. Were they green? It was impossible to tell in such bad lightning.

“Haymitch,” you tried again, clearing your throat off the hoarse of sleep. “Care to introduce our guest?”

Haymitch stood still as a cat, gaze still upon the girl who smiled brightly at you. Now you wished you had put some clothes on instead of relying on your husband’s thin robe. “I’m sorry we woke you up. I told Haymitch to speak quieter! But you know how he is, quite the chatterbox!”

The girl giggled melodically, and your brows furrowed in confusion. Did she know Haymitch? And from where? Didn’t seem like she had spent much time with him, though, because Haymitch was many things, but a chatterbox wasn’t one of them.

“Oh, um, well,” you stuttered, shifting your gaze to Haymitch just to find him in the same state as seconds before. “I didn’t know we were having guests today. My husband forgot to tell me.”

She giggled louder. “Please, don’t blame him. There was no way he could have known.” She patted the space next to her. “C’mon, sit down, Y/N. We have a lot of things to talk about.”

It all seemed like too much. Waking in the middle of the night to your husband looking appalled as if he had witnessed a murder and talking to a teenage girl you had never seen before, but that seemed to know you.

“I’m fine where I am, thanks.” Why were you thanking her for offering a seat on your couch? You tried to shake your mind awake, still too numb in slumber. “I’m sorry, but I haven’t caught your name. Or what you’re doing here at this hour.”

That seemed to take Haymitch away from the place he had gotten lost in his mind. He shook his head, tearing his gaze off the girl and peeking at you briefly, before looking down at his hands, elbows plopped on his knees. “She’s…” His voice broke slightly, and if you weren’t so confused, you would have rushed his way to comfort him. “I— She’s…”

“I’m Lenore Dove,” the girl happily replied, complimenting Haymitch’s unfinished sentence.

You felt a bucket of cold water drench you from the inside out. What had she just said?

“Lenore Dove? As in—?”

“As in my…,” Haymitch stopped himself, rubbing his face with his hands, swamped by the situation.

You waited for him to finish the sentence, wanting to hear what you were sure would crash your heart forever. But he didn’t. And, in his stead, Lenore Dove took over.

“Please, Y/N, have a seat. There are a few things I want both of you to hear.”

She was so sweet, it almost made you feel guilty for the rage boiling in your veins. What was a dead girl doing here? Don’t dead people stay in their graves? How could she possibly be here? Was this some kind of joke? Was Haymitch pulling a gaudy joke on you? You had never seen Lenore Dove, not even a picture or drawing, so this girl could perfectly be a random teenager from another District who just decided to prank you in the cruellest way that Haymitch could think of. Of course that had to be it. Ghosts didn’t exist.

But looking back at Haymitch, he seemed measly. He wasn’t that good of an actor, at least not enough to feign the haunted look in his beautiful grey eyes, or the way his hands trembled as if he was going through rehab again.

“That’s impossible,” you settled for, shaking your head in alarm.

Lenore Dove gave you a sad smile. “I’m not really here. Well, yes, but technically no.” At the lack of life coming out of you, she bashfully lifted the corners of her mouth. “I’m not a ghost, but not a person, either. I don’t know why, but I’ve been granted a few hours to arrange my unfinished business. Clerk Carmine is one of them, and you and Haymitch are another.”

Your knees wobbled and you had to catch yourself in the corner of the couch. If this was true, if the remotely possibility of this being true could be real, you had nothing to do with Lenore Dove in life. What business could she have with you?

Your gaze shifted to Haymitch again, who’s shoulders shook in uncontrolled and quiet sobs. An irrational hatred stringed your heart ablaze. “Do you think it’s funny?” you seethed, and Haymitch looked up in despair. But you had no time to reflect on it, because your mouth was flickering. “What the hell were you thinking!? What kind of prank is this, Haymitch!? Waking me in the middle of the night for this bullshit? How much did you pay the girl for this? Are you—!?”

“I did nothing!” Haymitch screamed back, startling both you and the supposed Lenore Dove, before he stood up wonkily. “Do you think I can make the dead come back to life!? If I could, they would all have been alive by now!”

“Are you trying to tell me this girl is the Lenore Dove that died more than two decades ago!?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you!”

“And you want me to believe that!?” By now, both of you were screaming to the top of your lungs, probably waking Katniss and Peeta at the other side of the village. But you didn't care. You were furious and your husband was to blame.

“You should have stayed in—”

“That’s enough!” Both Haymitch and you turned to Lenore Dove, who had also stood from her seat. Her smile had been replaced by a sneer, her hands tight in fists at her sides. “Are you hearing yourselves? Were you willing to say something you don’t mean?” She was now looking at Haymitch, shaking her head in disappointment. “I can’t believe you two are grown adults. Maturity’s out the window.”

Why you were ashamed of being scolded like a schoolkid by a schoolkid herself was beyond you. But she made both you and your husband shut up.

“Sit down. Both of you. And you’re going to listen to me. You too, Y/N.”

Haymitch did as she said, but you stood still. Your rational mind was begging you to not believe a word of what was going on, but Haymitch’s reaction seemed genuine for it to not be really Lenore Dove.

That made you feel even worse. Of course he hadn’t woken you up. If Lenore Dove was here for real, he didn’t need you. He probably wanted to catch up with her, bask in her presence once more after almost thirty years of abstinence. You were the piece that didn’t fit in. And the lack of beat in your chest was begging you to get away from there, to flee and not look back. What were you thinking? That Haymitch would love you unconditionally when he had known true love at the age of sixteen? He would have never even laid eyes on you if his girl had been alive. Because yes, Lenore Dove was his girl. You were just the woman who happened to be there, wasn't it?

“No,” you snapped, Haymitch and Lenore Dove startling at your harsh tone. “No, you both need to catch up. I’ll just…,” you said much softer, losing your train of thought as the possibility of running away for the time being was tempting you so captivatingly.

Without sharing any other word, you made a beeline to the door and slammed it as you rushed. Needle-like leaves stabbed your barefoot soles while you ran for the woods. The fend around them had been brought down once the Capitol fell, so it had never been easier to disappear between the myriad of trees that grew in the forest.

You had no destination planned, no reasoning behind your behaviour apart from the heartache that threatened to take you down drop dead in the mossy grass. It was impossible. There was no way Lenore Dove had come back to life. What were the odds? It had to be a nightmare. Yes, that was it. A nightmare. But Haymitch’s somber eyes kept materializing in your mind.

How could you have been such a fool? The memory of that girl had haunted your relationship even before you knew of her existence. You should have left the moment his deep and husky voice made you blush under the Capitol party lights that fatidical night. You had thought the world of him, giddiness beating any reason at his mere presence, his words sounding like endless jokes. For once, the odds seemed to have been in your favor when he confessed his love to you. But, in reality, the odds had never been in your favor at all. How sad you learned it too late.

Up, up, up. Higher, higher and higher you climbed, until your feet drenched in freezing water. It woke you up from the mist, your brain first awake since you had stirred in bed not that long ago. Looking around, you realized the sky was starting to lighten, a softer, clearer blue taking over the dark night. Well, it seemed you had been hiking for longer than you had sensed.

On your feet, a body of water surrounded you. A lake, you noticed. Still obscure from the lack of light, the tides ebbed and swung to a rhythm lost on you. With nothing left to lose, you crunched down and sat, the lake freezing your legs and rear. Maybe you’d be lucky and die of hypothermia.

You spent hours like that. Not that you kept track, but the sun moved from the east to the middle of the sky and you were still there, drenching in self-pity.

Haymitch didn’t come after you. You huffed, laughing mirthlessly. Why would he? The love of his life had presented herself before him again. What need did he have for you now?

In the solitude of the forest, and sound assuaged by the waves, you allowed yourself to cry. Thirty-two and crying because a sixteen year old girl kept haunting the man who had proclaimed his love for you endless times. You were pathetic. Your life was pathetic.

In moments like these, you wished you had stayed in District 2 with what was left of your family and friends. You had given up so much for Haymitch, thinking it was worth it, that his love for you was enough to keep you satiated.

What you hadn’t counted on was the ghost of a sixteen year old girl to appear after almost thirty years of her death to make your husband turn on you.

“I don’t want to take Haymitch away from you.”

You screamed in panic when the sweet voice of Lenore Dove filled the silence that had been perpetrated by you and the forest. There she was, seated beside you, legs stretched comfortably and hands supporting her weight behind her back. You gaped at her, probably looking ridiculous in a robe, barefoot, eyes as red as part of her dress and gaping like a trout.

“I just wanted to let him know that my death was not his fault. Do you know how tiring it is to see the boy you love the most drowning in guilt for something he couldn’t control?” she sighed, shaking her head. “I mean, you do. You’ve been doing it for years now. But you get what I say, don’t you?”

You stared at her in bewilderment. “When did you get here?”

Lenore Dove scoffed. She had had enough bullshit from adults in less than a day, it seemed. “I told you! I’m no ghost, but not a person either. It’s strange, don’t waste time trying to understand it.” She turned her head to you, eyes softer now. So they really were green, you thought. “I mean what I said. I’m not here to take Haymitch away from you.”

You grimaced, a scowl drawing in your lips. Your mood swinged from sad to sour in continuous jumps. “He was never mine to begin with. Haven’t you noticed he’s still in love with you?”

Lenore Dove sighed, bringing a hand up to press the bridge of her nose. “You two are stubborn as mules! No wonder you ended up together”, she huffed. “Of course Haymitch loves me! Have you not seen how wide his heart is? He loves everyone he meets, because he’s kind like that. Maybe your Haymitch is not like that anymore after everything he’s gone through. But Y/N, that boy—, man, is love in its purest form.” Her eyes brightened, dazzling in a way only a teenager could manage. “But he also loves you, silly. He’s irrevocably in love with you. He’s yours, and you’re his. And I came here to tell you both how happy I am that you had found each other.”

You were at a loss of words. Mostly because she couldn’t stop talking, but also because she stirred a part of your brain in the right way with what she was saying. It was clear Lenore Dove had loved Haymitch with all her being, and shame overcame you at the envy crawling in your chest again. You wished you had met the Haymitch she knew in their youth, something that was lost forever and that only belonged to them.

“The future is yours,” she continued. It was incredibly disturbing how she knew what you were thinking. “I was so worried for him… Always drunk in sleep syrup or alcohol. Haymitch drinking alcohol! Can you believe it? And all alone. My poor, sweet boy. He had lots of friends, you know? It was so sad to see him on his own for decades.” You tried to imagine a sober Haymitch; not his current sober, but one who had never tasted the sweet drops of oblivion. But nothing came to mind. “And then you came. It took a long while, more than what it should have. But he felt guilty for me,” she scoffed again. “Betraying a dead girl. He’s so stupid, sometimes. But luckily you are as stubborn as him.

“He loved you since the moment he saw you, don’t let him tell you otherwise,” she whispered in collusion, as if sharing a juicy secret. Your heart drummed against your chest at her words. “But he was still holding on too much. And for what? My sake? There’s no pain or heartache where I am now. You can’t betray what no longer lives. Why deprive yourself of something good for an illogical moral? That’s when I was granted this. I really hoped it had been different, I wanted to talk to you both at the same time. But thinking about it, I don’t know how I would have reacted if the dead girlfriend of my husband appeared in my house in the middle of the night.” You huffed a laugh and Lenore Dove giggled, shoving her shoulder against yours slightly.

“I’m sorry for reacting like I did. I—,” your voice was sore and husky from lack of use, a knot untying little by little on your throat. “I just didn’t know what to do.”

“Don’t be, at least we’re talking now.” She paused for a moment. “Although I’m doing most of the talking.”

You chuckled through your tears. “Yeah, you’re the chatterbox, dear.”

She laughed. “I’ve always been, Haymitch told me as much.”

Silence fell over you two. Lenore Dove looked so peaceful in the lake you didn’t want to stand up, even though you couldn’t feel your legs and rear anymore. She was so sweet and smart, of course Haymitch had fallen head over heels so soon in life for her. And, if circumstances were different, you were sure you two would have grown to be good friends, even when you resented her in the very hidden corners of your heart for being Haymitch’s true love.

“I wanted to thank you.”

You lifted your head so fast that you feared to have snapped your neck. “What for?”

“Loving Haymitch and showing him he could love again as intensely as he once did.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that, loving him is as easy as breathing.” You shook your head. “But he doesn’t love me as intensely.”

“Y/N,” she groaned in frustration, a grin flashing in her youthful features. “Accept what it is and not what you think it is.”

You furrowed your brows. “What the hell does that mean?”

“That you’re a full grown adult self-pitying like a little girl.”

You went to object, but it stung how right she was. You were complaining about your husband not loving you enough to a girl who died too young and couldn’t get the life that you were enjoying now with Haymitch.

“I’m sorry.”

“Just let your intuition guide you, not your panic.” Lenore Dove stood up, stretching under the sun, and her dress dry for some strange reason having to do with paranormal stuff you didn’t have knowledge about. “And trust him when he says he loves you, okay?”

She marched to the woods, and you rose rapidly to your feet to try and go after her. “Wait! Lenore Dove! Are you leaving?”

She looked at you from over her shoulder, her hair dancing in the movement. “All the people I care about are well. I have no more reason to stay.”

“Wait!” you stopped her again when she started walking once more. There was something eating you up, gnawing at you in curiosity ever since she mentioned it. “What is the afterlife like?”

At that, her mood lifted and she smiled brightly. “It’s different for everyone, but all of us encounter the others in many paths. You’ll see when you get there, but don’t rush!”

And then, you were left alone in the woods, as if Lenore Dove had never been there. The breeze continued its whistle, the water tiding and ebbing in waves, the grass dancing under the sun. Yet everything was different.

The perturbing silence broke with huffings and puffings coming from behind you. It was clear the lack of Capitol had brought down your senses, because how could you not have heard someone so loud hiking to the lake? Something within you hoped it was Lenore Dove to explain what she had left out.

But there stood Haymitch. Less shaken than before, yet still wrecked, disheveled and out of breath. His shirt and short pants were wrinkled and definitely not fit for a hike. Not that you had gone better prepared than him.

“What were you thinking running like that!? For fuck’s sake, woman. Do you know how worried I was?” He huffed between breaths, hands coming down to his knees in search of oxygen while sweat ran down his forehead.

“How did you find me?” you asked softly, walking towards him in slow steps, never getting too close.

“I— I followed a rabbit,” he grumbled, so silently that you didn’t hear him, so you asked him to repeat himself. “I followed a rabbit!”

“A rabbit?” you questioned in confusion.

“It’s— Fucking hell. It’s difficult to explain, but I somehow knew he was bringing me to you.”

After encountering Haymitch’s dead girlfriend, everything seemed plausible, so you just nodded.

Once he regained his composure somehow, he took short steps, hands raised as if approaching an injured animal. You huffed. “No need to walk on eggshells, Haymitch.”

“I don’t know, you’re quite lethal when you want to.”

You laughed, biting your lip and shaking your head. He could be so unabashed sometimes. A rascal, they would have called him at the Capitol. But he was no rascal, he was your husband. Your Haymitch.

“I’m not going to murder you, your girlfriend tamed me down,” you snorted.

Haymitch stopped in his tracks, eyes going wild. “So she came to see you?” He asked after some tense seconds, voice broken and gentle.

You nodded your head. “Quite the talkative girl, she is.”

“Yeah, that hasn’t changed at all,” he smiled softly, a nostalgic look misting his eyes. Your heart stung again at it. “What did she say?”

“Why should I tell you?” You narrowed your eyes, and he narrowed his playfully.

“Because you love me.”

“Well, who told you that lie?” you teased, staggering down in the grass. It was uncomfortable how your clothes clenched to your skin, but you didn’t feel like hiking down again, and Haymitch was in no shape to try to do so.

He sat in front of you, bringing his knees to his chest. “You.”

“I’m such a liar.”

“Oh, of course you are.”

It was nice to be back to your usual banter, signaling that things weren’t too strained after what happened at the house.

“She wanted to thank me for loving you,” you huffed a laugh. “As if it wasn’t the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

“I’m not easy to love, darling,” Haymitch muttered lightly, a sad smile etching in his tired face.

“You are,” you smiled back at him, a lovesick grin plastered in your mouth. “You’re the easiest person to love, Haymitch. I wish I was as easy to love as you are.”

“That you are,” Haymitch said, face solemn. A serious expression etched at his face in a second, his fine lines and wrinkles that had formed over the years making him look older than he was. It took you off guard. “You are so easy to love that I couldn’t help but to fall irrevocably, truly, in love with you.”

“Since when are you so romantic with words?” you teased, trying to hide the way your heart was begging to carve out of your chest and jump into his hands.

Haymitch rolled his eyes good naturedly. “You’re impossible.”

“Exactly.”

“Don’t go there.” He pointed at you with his index finger, more earnest than before if it was possible. But after the last few hours, was there anything impossible at all? When you didn’t utter a word in a while, he sighed, dread shedding out of him. “You are the best thing that’s happened to me ever since I won my games, Y/N.”

“I just wish I could be the best in general.” As soon as those words left your mouth, you heard how selfish, childish and evil you sounded, shame wrapping around you as a blanket would.

Haymitch sighed again, more patient than you had ever known him to be. “I can’t erase who I loved. I loved Lenore Dove, yes, and a part of me will love her forever.” A bullet to your heart. “But I also loved my brother Sid, and my ma, and Maysilee, and Burdock, and Blair, and Louella, and even Wyatt. I’ve loved many people in different ways, and that doesn’t mean I love them less than the others. Time can’t take my feelings from me, that very much I have proved. But I can also love others now.

“I love Katniss as a daughter, I love Peeta, too. I care for Beetee, and for Annie and her son. I still care for Finnick and Prim and Chaff and Seeders. And I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you. Like I never thought I would love again. Like sunrise loves the light, like mountains love their trees, like a lover loves their lover.” By then, Haymitch had crawled and kneeled beside you, wiping the tears you were ushering amply. “You’ve shown me that romantic love was a possibility again. And I love you. I love you so much that if I could stab open my chest and serve you my heart on a silver plate I would. And I’m sorry I’ve made you feel like I don’t.”

Your body trembled in sobs. This was not the aloof, somewhat grumpy and drank in booze Haymitch you were used to. Was this what Lenore Dove was referring to? A Haymitch so full of love he had no remedy other than to shout it from the rooftops to get it off his chest?

Haymitch pulled you into his arms, whispering soothing words to your ear and caressing your hair while detangling it sweetly. You shook your head, clenching your hands to his shirt. You could feel your heart bleeding at his confession, at the pain of the people he loved and lost, at the hopeful colour he used when he addressed his love for you. Oh, your beautiful, lovely, adoring man. “I— I’m sorry.” He shushed you, kissing your temple. “I— I thought I could n-never be as loved by y-you as her and,” your uncontrollable sobs interrupted you again. Gosh, you should know better at your age. “And when I s-saw her I thought you— you would leave….”

“That I would leave you?” Haymitch asked in surprise, almost alarmed. You nodded, and he gaped at you, pulling away slightly to look at you with utter perplexity. “Are you mad? Lenore Dove died at sixteen. Fuck, she looks sixteen!” He flicked your forehead. “And I want to stay with you. For better for worse, in sickness and in health, beyond death, remember? I do not take these vows lightly. Do you think so little of me?”

You started sobbing again, laughing through it. “I wasn’t thinking.”

Haymitch scoffed. “Yeah, no doubt you weren’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know, I’m sorry, too.”

Haymitch held you for a while, rocking you side to side like the wind bending a willow. It should have been in reverse, you thought. He was the one who had the girl he thought he would never see again appearing before him in your living room. So, while he kissed your forehead for the hundredth time and his stubble pinched your skin the way you liked it, you gathered the strength to ask.

“Are you okay?”

Haymitch stiffened in your arms, taciturn in his silence. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “But what I do know is that I feel better than I’ve done in years.”

You prepared yourself for the blow. “I can’t even imagine,” you started with your voice clipped. “I’m happy you got to see her again.”

“Yeah.” He kissed your temple reverently, nuzzling his nose in your hair. “I was so lost in my grief that it took me years to make a move with you. I thought I was betraying her memory.” You latched tighter to his shirt, kissing his shoulder in comfort. “I didn’t realize I was holding back still these days. But I’m glad she gave me an earful for that,” he chuckled softly. “You deserve to be loved by my whole being.”

“Whatever you’re willing to give me I accept it, I’ve done it so far,” you mumbled against his shoulder, lips pressed on it.

“No. I want to give you everything. That’s why Lenore Dove wanted to talk to me. To tell me it was alright that I fell in love again, to tell me what she always wanted for me was to be happy. And you make me the happiest, Y/N.” Haymitch pulled you away by the neck in a soft grip, locking his acute grey eyes on yours. “I’ve felt guilty over loving you for too long, she came to give me the green light. Oh, my love, I’ve been such a wanker,” he laughed tearily, shaking his head with a lovesick grin.

You replicated his smile, cocking your head to the side. “If it makes you feel better, I was jealous of the memory of a sixteen year old dead girl. So, talking about pathetic, I win.”

Haymitch scoffed and you huffed a laugh, crimson blood warming your cheeks in embarrassment. “Two loves can live comfortably in my heart, darling. No need to be jealous when you’re the one that gets to spend your life with me, much to your detriment.”

It was your time to scoff, and you swapped at his chest. “Yeah, living with a grumpy old man can be quite querulous,” you joked, at which he rolled his eyes good naturedly.

“Stop complaining and stand up, you’re going to catch a call and damn me if I have to take care of the most annoying patient in this goddamn country.”

And there he was, your Haymitch. Something in you feared he would go back to the man you met in the Capitol all those years ago after the paranormal incident with Lenore Dove. Retract, wistful and lost to liquor. How good to see him acting like he always did, with a touch of romance added to the mix.

He scooped you up when you took too long to rise up, having been focused on him the entire time. You squealed in delight, and he patted your asscheek. “C’mon, my love, we need to get you in the shower. Only you would have the bright idea of jumping in a lake in march.”

“So much complaining for someone who will get to bath with me.”

At this, Haymitch perked up, and with a smug smirk he grabbed your hand and rushed down the hill back to town.

You never thought you would meet Lenore Dove. Who in their right mind would have? Yet, after the initial terror of losing your husband to grief, you appreciated her visit and words. So wise for such a youthful thing, so full of life for death to claim her. And when lightning struck again that night in a clear starry night, you bid your goodbye and respect to the sweet, brave girl who taught your man years ago what love was.

‘Goodbye, Lenore Dove. Fly like a bird and haunt like a ghost. And thank you for allowing me to love your boy. I’ll take care of him.’

Haymitch never mentioned the visit of Lenore Dove again, and neither did you. Yet her haunting memory served for your love to grow stronger and fiercer. The light jiggling of Haymitch while cooking breakfast, his wide smiles, his way of reminding you of being the love of his life. She had granted him the forgiveness he had been beseeching for ever since she died, and that allowed him to live like he always wanted. With a happy wife he loved like a madman. Because nothing they could take from him was ever worth keeping, and you were the most precious thing that he owned.

#haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch x reader #haymitch abernathy #haymitch abernathy x you #haymitch x you #mentioned haymitch abernathy x lenore dove #past haymitch abernathy x lenore dove #thg sotr #thg haymitch #thg series

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maraudersilver · 3 months ago

Text

Finished reading the Holy Scriptures to Haymitch Abernathy fanfiction 🧎‍♀️🙏🏻

Hunger Games Masterlist

Haymitch Abernathy & The Dead Donner Girl

Summary: Haymitch is forced to mentor the niece of his former ally, aka the prequel to all things Moves & Countermoves. (Warning: Sunrise on the Reaping spoilers.)

Part 1 | Part 2

Exile

Summary: Y/N Undersee thought the games were over after becoming a victor. Unfortunately, life outside the arena has become just as dangerous. Prequel to Moves & Countermoves. Trigger warning: forced prostitution, explicit sexual content, alcohol abuse and other mentions of trauma. 18+ ONLY

20 Questions

Summary: For Y/N’s 20th birthday Haymitch gifts her 20 questions, that he has to answer honestly, no matter what. Mentions of sex/forced pregnancy. Set in the Moves & Countermoves universe.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Horn Of Plenty

Summary: The Capitol sends a very special gift for Y/N and Haymitch’s son on his first birthday. Set in the Moves & Countermoves universe, can be read as a stand alone. SoTR Spoliers Warning: SMUT 18 + ONLY, mentions of trauma

What’s in a name?

Summary: Haymitch Abernathy x Reader set in the moves & countermoves universe. Y/N is currently pregnant with their second child and they need a name. SMUT 18+ only

Moves & Countermoves

Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing.

Hi, Haymitch

Summary: the family is all together and ready to teach Haymitch a new game. Short, fluffy and spoiler free, set post epilogue, Moves & Countermoves universe.

Capitol Loss

Summary: Set in the Moves & Countermoves Universe. Years after the rebellion, Y/N and Haymitch’s son is off to study in the Capitol, where he discovers the true cost of being a victor. Discussions of trauma and forced prostitution, proceed with caution.

The Star-Crossed Lovers Of District 12

Summary: The rebels are coming to kill them, that’s all she knows. Aka the Moves & Countermoves AU where Y/N gets caught by Snow in the tribute center, while trying to rescue Peeta in mockingjay.

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

#the hunger games #hunger games fanfic #haymitch abernathy x y/n #haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch abernathy

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