nebulaafterdark

[nebulaafterdark]

Exile (Part 9)

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. SOTR SPOILERS

Trigger warning: forced prostitution, explicit sexual content, alcohol abuse and other mentions of trauma. 18+ ONLY

Part 8

After the burned plot of land sits barren for a while, Y/N returns to visit. Three headstones are all that remain of what had once been Tyson’s home. She used to cry there, to grieve. But now she does neither, moving through her days completely numb. A ghost of the girl she had been.

Fucking Haymitch is the only time she feels anything and she tells him so.

“That’s not good.” He admits, “you should probably take something.”

“I don’t want drugs, I want you.” Y/N tells him, “that’s the only thing that helps.”

Haymitch sighs, “come here, angel.” God, he’s ruined her. Or maybe the world ruined her and he’s picking up the pieces. It doesn’t really matter, because he’s inside her now. Whether it’s wrong or right. He doesn’t know, or frankly care.

She beckons his lips down to meet hers, sighing into his mouth.

“How’s this?”

“Perfect.”

“Tell me,” Haymitch murmurs, “tell me how it feels.”

“So fucking good.” Y/N pants. “Like you care about me, like I’m not alone.”

Oh, you sweet thing. Haymitch cradles her cheek in his hand. You sweet, beautiful, wonderful, broken thing. “I do. I care about you.”

Y/N nods.

“More than anyone in the world.”

Her hands tangle in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer.

“Everything I do is for you.”

“Haymitch,” she whimpers, squeezing his cock so goddamn tight he has no choice but to follow her over the edge of bliss.

Grunting as he tilts her hips upward.

“Fuck!” She’s twitching beneath him.

Haymitch catches his breath, stilling her movements.

“Please.”

“Shhhh.” He hushes her. “Just breathe.”

She needs him to move, to do something.

Haymitch rocks against hers once, experimentally. To see if she can take it, if he can. Every inch of him a live wire.

“I need you.” She admits. Not just for this, she needs him all the time.

“I need you too, angel.” He’s fucking her again, slower now. Savoring her, cherishing her. Worshipping her. Because for the first time in a long time…Haymitch wants to live. And it scares the hell out of him.

————————————————————————

They each have a place, one they gravitate toward when the other isn’t looking. Truth is, Haymitch is always looking. As long as he can see Y/N, she is safe. He can make her safe.

“Sun’s down.”

Y/N startles at the sound of her husband’s voice.

“You should come home.”

Y/N dries her eyes, in a feeble attempt to conceal her tears. “Yeah.”

“You ok?” Haymitch asks, coming to stand beside Tyson’s grave, where she’s kneeling.

“I don’t know.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Haymitch plops down beside her in the charred grass.

“I’m never going to be me again.”

“You’re still you.”

“I mean like the me that I was when he knew me.” Y/N explains, “it’s like I’m…outgrowing him. Not just because I’m technically older now. I’m turning into someone he’ll never know.” She inhales, “and it scares me.”

Haymitch nods. “I lost my partner too.” My sister. My sweetheart. Lou Lou and Wyatt.

“Yeah.” That doesn’t make it any better somehow.

“I lost everyone.” My love, my Ma…Sid.

“I know, Haymitch. I didn’t mean to make it seem like my losses are greater than yours.” She still has her parents and Madge.

He bumps her shoulder. “Come on, I wanna show you something.”

Y/N blinks at him. “You said we should go home.”

“It’s not too far out of the way.”

“Is it your house?” Y/N asks, taking his hand and allowing him to help her stand. “Where it used to be?”

“Not quite.” Haymitch slides his fingers through hers as they trudge past the tree line into the woods. Not his house, but one of the people he considered home.

“Lenore Dove,” Y/N understands, immediately.

“I think she’s still around,” Haymitch tells her. “But that’s crazy, isn’t it?”

“No,” Y/N shakes her head, “I think that’s really beautiful, Haymitch.”

He tosses an arms around Y/N’s shoulder and she leans into him.

————————————————————————

If there is a such thing as contentment, they’ve found it. In their house in Victors’ Village. It doesn’t stop the sadness. But they find respite here, in each other. Tangled up on the couch watching old films on the projection screen.

The mail slot at the front door creaks open and shut, sending a crisp, white envelope onto the entryway floor. Y/N jumps, pulling her head from Haymitch’s lap, into a sitting position.

“It’s ok,” Haymitch gentles her back down, “just mail. I’ll get it in the morning.”

“It’s late for mail.” She yawns.

“Mhm.” Haymitch agrees, stroking her hair with the hand that isn’t clutched in hers.

The envelope is all but forgotten as they eventually head up the stairs for bed.

Y/N nearly slips on it the next morning. Taking the letter addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Abernathy to the counter. They’re probably due to film again, but that can wait until Haymitch wakes up.

She starts with her morning coffee. Deciding on pancakes for breakfast, with a side of bacon and eggs. Haymitch does more than half of the cooking, so breakfast in bed will be nice for him.

He’s too quick to come down the stairs though, joining Y/N at the table instead. “This looks amazing. Thank you.”

Y/N smiles.” You’re welcome.”

“Did you grab the letter from last night? I didn’t see it.”

“Mmm,” Y/N hums, around a mouthful of bacon. Stealing it from the countertop. “Here. I almost killed myself by stepping on it this morning.”

Haymitch chuckles, tearing it open like a bandage, to get it over with. He skims the words, finding nothing about recordings or the camera’s at Y/N’s house. The second time, he examines it more closely. All the blood draining from his face.

“Haymitch?” Y/N reaches for him. The pounding in his ears is so loud he hardly hears her.

Haymitch drops the letter onto the table between them, storming off.

Y/N hesitates to reach for it, trembling as she does.

‘Mr. and Mrs. Abernathy,

I hope this letter finds you well. The success of your marriage thus far will surely be celebrated for years to come. Within the year, we do so hope for an announcement regarding the expansion of your family.

At this time, contraceptive therapy from the Capitol will cease, to aid in your efforts. You are to notify the Capitol, by mail or other correspondence, once you have successfully conceived. My personal congratulations will be in order.

Best regards,

President Snow’

Y/N follows the sound of Haymitch’s cursing, to the sitting room. “That’s not fair,” she snarls. “Don’t fucking leave me alone in this, it’s not fair.”

“Y/N-” Haymitch scrubs a hand over his face, unable to look at her.

“No! We just figured this out, you can’t take it back.”

This. Being together. “I’m not taking anything back.” I can’t.

“It’s not fucking fair! You can’t just leave me when I need you.” I can’t bring a child into this world. Not with the games. Not like this.

“You’re right. It’s not and I’m sorry. I should never have made that deal with Snow. I should have thought of something else. I should’ve-”

“This isn’t your fault.”

“It is my fault. This is all my fault.” The marriage, the tapes, the fire. Snow’s letter.

That’s why he ran. Why he’s skirting her like a wounded animal. “Don’t say that.”

“I trapped you here with me. I ruined any chance you ever had at freedom. I-”

Y/N closes the distance between them, taking his face in her hands before he can move away. “Haymitch…you saved me.”

Still he can’t meet her eyes, offering only a shake of his head.

“You saved me,” she insists. “I don’t give a shit if you believe that or not.” No one else does. “But I’ll keep saying it until you’re ready to hear it. You. Saved. Me.”

“Angel,” his voice breaks, “please.” Please leave me to wallow in misery. Please don’t do this to me.

“Please.” Y/N echoes. “Please don’t shut me out.”

Haymitch cuts her off, sealing his mouth over hers. Because it is physically painful not to touch her; comfort her. “Give me a minute. I need to think. That’s all.” He murmurs against her lips.

Y/N nods, kissing him again.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He pecks her lips again, then her forehead in parting. Taking the stairs to the second floor two at a time, with a bottle of whiskey in hand.

Taglist: @spideysimpossiblegirl @ancientbeing10 @1-800-styles @l3xi3luv @lam-ila @druby2011-blog @liballer @readinginthe-am @rae-11 @champomiel @mariechristine00 @solacestyles @inky-sun @dadbodfanatic-x @sandorcleganeslutt @indigoashh @mustainelove @darkened-writer @ch3rrybutterfly @boredomquest @theladyofmanyfandomsofficial @kisskittenn @kwllakka @feeblemindedfool @oopsieikilledan @that-one-fangirl69 @just-levyy @thisisthepartwhereishutup @alixxhere @quackitys-amor @pepelachanel @lurkingsparrow @faithalsip09 @cwallace02sblog @animaloversammy @peachiesnsilk @libbyaller @juiceboxfullofslime @libra-2409 @heidiland05 @evansorry @caraxes-syrax @pookiei-bookie

[nebulaafterdark]

Exile finally TONIGHT!!! Are you ready? I’m not tbh 😅

[nebulaafterdark]

I’ve decided that Exile might actually be the saddest thing I’ve ever written. I mean they really only had each other. Haymitch doesn’t have anyone left but her, Y/N is at odds with almost everyone in her life that she has left… They literally only had each other, against the whole entire world. They became the world to each other and then everything blew up in their faces AGAIN! I’m really sad to send these two fictional characters into Twenty Questions, because I know what happens 😭 it’s worse knowing how they’re going to spend the next decade. Why would I do this?

[nebulaafterdark]

Alright my loves, I’ve begun writing the last chapter of ‘Exile.’ It covers the two/three month span before Y/N’s birthday and ends with Haymitch receiving the envelope from Snow that we learn about in the opening scene of ‘Twenty Questions.’

If there is anything you would like to see in this chapter please lmk. I will try to work it in, as long as it lines up with the timeline and the information we already have about what happens next ❤️

[nebulaafterdark]

Exile (Part 8)

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. SOTR SPOILERS

Trigger warning: forced prostitution, explicit sexual content, alcohol abuse and other mentions of trauma. 18+ ONLY

Part 7

“I’m tellin’ you somethin’s goin’ on with Y/N. The way she’s actin’.” The footage they’re showing of that little girl mentoring the games, makes it look like she’s having the time of her life. “That ain’t her.”

“You need to leave now.” Y/N’s father insists, attempting to close the front door between them.

“Valor, please.” Cherry presses her hand against it. “She’s your daughter.”

The mayor’s eyes narrow, full of rage. “Do you think I’ve forgotten that? Don’t you think I’ve tried to buy her way out? Barter and plead her way out? She’s my daughter, for god’s sake!”

“So what then? You just give up?” Tucker places his boot between the door and its frame.

“My daughter will be home from the Capitol any minute.” Valor reminds them. “After which time, I have one year to come up with a solution that doesn’t end with my entire family dead. I advise you to do the same.”

Tucker yanks his boot free of the slamming door. “Prick.”

“What do we do now?” Haymitch doesn’t have any family left. No real friends. Just that girl and him, exiled in Victors’ Village.

“There is someone who might know something, but it’s a long shot.” Burdock hasn’t spoken to Haymitch in years. Not since Haymitch started pelting him and his girl with rocks.

Doesn’t matter who it is. “It’s the only shot we’ve got.”

————————————————————————

Burdock and Asterid are not expecting visitors. So when there is a knock at the door after supper, Burdock answers, warily.

Waiting at the stoop is their neighbors from a few blocks down. Cherry and Tucker Carell, lost their oldest in the games a few years back.

“We need to speak with you about Haymitch Abernathy.”

Burdock steps out onto his porch, floorboards creaking beneath him. “What about him?”

“I remember you were close as kids.”

“We’re not kids anymore.”

“Please,” Cherry cuts in. “It’s Y/N. I know you don’t know her, but we do…we did.”

“The laryngitis girl?” Haymitch’s wife.

“Yes,” Cherry snaps her fingers. “She said she lost her voice because she didn’t want them usin’ her words to glorify somethin’ she didn’t believe in.”

Burdock sighs, “I am very sorry for your loss.”

Their loss. They’ve lost that girl.

“We want to get her back.” Tucker explains.

“I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you can’t. Once a person belongs to them, there’s no turning back. Whatever is happening to her…cannot be undone.”

“That’s not true.” It can’t be.

“Haymitch was my best friend.” Burdock presses on. “He changed, and I don’t blame him. For all he lost…the things he’s seen…”

“Did it happen all at once? The change in em?” Cherry asks.

“No.” Burdock admits, “it took time.” The drinking didn’t help.

“This happened in a week.” Tucker points out.

“Are you sure it is her?” Burdock mutters.

“Who else would it be?”

“I don’t know how true this is,” Burdock clenches his jaw, “the person who told me was…indisposed at the time. But there was a tribute from twelve, reaped for the Quarter Quell who was killed in the parade. They replaced her with a girl who looked enough like her…”

“A body double?” Cherry’s brows pull together.

“She had something in her ear to control her. They could speak into it and even pump some kind of medicine through it.”

“Some kind of bug.”

“Must’ve been.” Burdock nods. “Haymitch said it would bleed.”

“Haymitch told you this?”

“Like I said, I don’t know how true it is. He wasn’t well. But Wyatt Callow died before her,” or so the story goes. “Louella’s casket smelled a lot worse than his when we buried them.”

The silence hangs heavy between them. 

“You seem like good people,” Burdock says, “and I am truly sorry you’re wrapped up in all this. Please be careful, or people are gonna start dropping like flies again.”

Tucker tosses an arm around his wife, leading her away. “Thank you for your time.”

Burdock watches them go, with a heavy heart. To the victor go the spoils.

Cherry and Tucker make their way back home, leaning into each other as they walk.

“We gotta do it.” Run. This could be their last chance.

“We can’t take her.” Not like they wanted to. Not the way they planned it before.

Tucker hangs his head, staring down at the ground. “I know.”

Can’t even tell her goodbye.

“This is what she would want.” He reminds his wife. “The little girl who showed up on our doorstep with flowers for our boy and a gift for each of his siblings. She would’ve wanted us to go.”

“We could leave her somethin’ at least.” Cherry suggests, “a letter.”

————————————————————————

“We’re packin’ just a couple things, like we talked about.” Cherry reminds her children.

“When are we leaving?” Micah, her second oldest son, asks.

“After dinner.” Tucker tells him.

“Can I take my bear?” Peach, their youngest, newly six, holds up her favorite stuffed animal.

“Of course,” Cherry taps her nose. They’ve already packed up everything the little ones would need.

Interdistrict travel is strictly prohibited, but Cherry’s mother was always telling stories about when she was a girl. ‘Free as birds, we were. There’s life outside these districts, Cherry. Don’t let them tell you otherwise.’

District thirteen was said to be destroyed by the Capitol, turns out that isn’t true. A couple of their friends have trickled out to test the waters, sending signs that the coast is clear. They were only waiting for Y/N to get home.

Cherry sits down at the table, paper and pen in hand.

‘My dearest, Y/N.

I’m afraid there’s been a change of plans. I once suffered from some delusion that Tyson’s memories are tied to the walls of this house. That some part of him resides in the bones, buried outback. But I was wrong. My son is not trapped in a place, or a body or even this earth. We are.

Trapped in a district the president has no love for. Where children are starved and slaughtered for entertainment. There’s got to be more than this. We’re going to find it, for our boy, for all of our children, for you.

We tried waiting for you, couldn’t bear leaving you behind. I can hardly bring myself to do it now, but you belong to them. And they will never let you leave.

I know, in my heart, that if the girl we opened our home to and love like our own is still inside you; she’ll understand. I hope we find each other again, somehow, someway, in a new, free world. But for now we’ve gotta go and you’ve gotta stay. We’re still rooting for you, little girl.

Love always,

Ma, Pa, Tyson, Micah, Hudson, Rixi, Adelaide, Hoytt, Valley, Iverson, Olivette, Harvest, Fauna, Wells and Peach.’

When she is finished, Tucker raises the letter to eye level. Resting a hand on her shoulder as he reads it over, then folds it in eighths. Taking the pen in his own hand to jot down, ‘burn after reading.’

“I’m going to sit with Ty for a while before we go.” Cherry tells him, leaving the note and their simmering stew, in his care.

“Alright, baby.” Tucker presses a kiss to her cheek as she passes.

Cherry treks through the house and out the back door. Tyson’s headstone is decorated by a beautiful arrangement of wild flowers. Each picked by hand. She all but collapses onto the ground beside him.

“Tyson, I need a sign.” She murmurs into the evening breeze. “Tell me I’m doing the right thing.”

Nothing.

Even the electric fence beyond the yard is silent. Silent because it’s off.

Knocking from the front door carries through the house. Cherry rises, brushing dried grass and dirt from her dress. “Tucker, who is that?” She closes the back door behind her, watching her husband peer through the peek hole.

“It’s Y/N.”

————————————————————————

When Y/N is finally permitted to leave, Cherry and Tucker are left with a truth much more devastating than any hypothetical they’d considered.

Y/N is still herself.

Fully aware; in her own body.

What controls her now is the fear of losing people she loves.

“We can’t leave her. Not now, not like this.” Cherry whispers.

Tucker covers his mouth. “Cherry, I put the note in her pocket.”

“What? Why?”

“Because nothing changed,” he takes her face in hand. “All we’re doing by staying here is giving Snow more leverage against her. Are you willing to put the blood of every name you signed in that letter on Y/N’s hands?”

“No,” Cherry shakes her head.

“Neither am I.” Tucker huffs, “we have to do this now. Like we planned, the fence is off. It’s now or never.” He doesn’t want to do this, he has to do this.

————————————————————————

Valor is still pacing in the foyer, after his unexpected visit from the Carells. Given their status, they’re not being watched by the Capitol very closely, if at all. They may be able to help Y/N in ways he can’t.

Donning his coat and shoes, Mayor Undersee sets out to visit the seam. The stares he receives from those who reside there are not the kindest. Still he waves and offers a quiet, “hello.”

There’s some commotion, near the far end, the very house he’s headed for. Smoke and screams greet him as he rounds the bend. The Carell house is on fire.

“Get up! Everyone, out of your houses. There’s an active fire. We need water.”

————————————————————————

Y/N is still holding the letter when Haymitch wakes the next afternoon. She’s so far gone that she doesn’t even realize he’s behind her, until a pair of arms encircle her waist.

“They’re gone.”

“I’m so sorry, angel.”

“They left,” Y/N waves the proof at him. “The fire was a distraction.”

Haymitch inspects it carefully, reading over the letter twice, before clearing his throat. “Gotta get rid of it.” Too damning all around.

“I know.” Her fingers clutch the corner.

“Come ‘ere.” Haymitch turns her away from the fireplace. Slowly working the parchment free from her hand. “Hold onto me instead.”

She does, desperately fisting his shirt in her hands.

Haymitch tosses the evidence into the fire, watching flames eat away at the words, until there is nothing left. He keeps her close, shuffling backwards toward the sofa.

“Don’t go anywhere, Haymitch.” Y/N says, softly.

Haymitch mulls it over for a moment. Hoping that some great words of comfort and encouragement will flood his brain. But there is no divine intervention, just the weight of her head against his shoulder. “I won’t.”

“Hold onto me instead.”

Part 9

Taglist: @spideysimpossiblegirl @ancientbeing10 @1-800-styles @l3xi3luv @lam-ila @druby2011-blog @liballer @readinginthe-am @rae-11 @champomiel @mariechristine00 @solacestyles @inky-sun @dadbodfanatic-x @sandorcleganeslutt @indigoashh @mustainelove @darkened-writer @ch3rrybutterfly @boredomquest @theladyofmanyfandomsofficial @kisskittenn @kwllakka @feeblemindedfool @oopsieikilledan @that-one-fangirl69 @just-levyy @thisisthepartwhereishutup @alixxhere @quackitys-amor @pepelachanel @lurkingsparrow @faithalsip09 @cwallace02sblog @animaloversammy @peachiesnsilk @libbyaller @juiceboxfullofslime @libra-2409 @heidiland05 @evansorry @caraxes-syrax

[nebulaafterdark]

I'm going to admit that he didn't even cross my mind because I wasn't thinking about the timeline and the fact that he was still alive in Exile 😭 but I am so excited for the next part!

Yes! I’m so excited to share it. It’s sooo juicy. I’m writing as we speak lol

[nebulaafterdark]

Very important person? My guess is either Beetee or Plutarch, (which i am completely okay with being wrong on) but I'm also wondering, if it was one of Tyson's parents who slipped her the letter, which one was it?

Do not read any farther if you don’t want to know because I can’t hold it in anymore, I’m too excited lol

SOTR Spoilers

Sadly, he is killed in the mine explosion before we ever get to see him in Moves & Countermoves but Exile is set 10 years prior, meaning that he is still alive.

After the games and his tragic homecoming, in a sleep syrup induced haze, Haymitch accidentally opened up about Louella/ Lou Lou to his childhood friend. This person was very significant to Haymitch before the games and they later have a falling out because of the trauma surrounding the games and everything after.

It’s Mr. Burdock Everdeen.

[nebulaafterdark]

Maybe they didn't know specifically that the house would be set on fire, but they knew they were in danger. Maybe they found roses on Tyson's grave, a flower that they knew Y/N wouldn't put there herself. (You definitely don't have to agree with this, it was just a thought that popped into my head)

This is a GOOD theory and tracks with for President Snow to have roses appear there. Ugh, I got chills lol. Especially because that’s what he did with Daisy’s crib in Moves & Countermoves.

We are going to get a flashback of Cherry and Tucker conversing with someone VERY important, who knows exactly how much the games and Capitol can change a person. The person who spilled the tea about Louella McCoy/Lou Lou, a story Haymitch believes he’s never told anyone.

[nebulaafterdark]

There's a moment in part 6 of Exile where Tyson's parents hold Y/N for an unspecified amount of time, could have been one of them that slid the note into her pocket during that time?

Alright, we’re onto something here. So his parents knew something was up and needed to tell her nonverbally, just in case she was bugged. Did they know the house was going to be set on fire? And if they did, how did they know?

[nebulaafterdark]

For my Exile lovers, I know we want to know what the letter says. BUT! I think where the note came from is equally important. We can deduce that it was in Y/N’s back pocket before the fire, as Haymitch tells us that it fell out while they were fondling each other. SO! How and when did the letter get there?

[nebulaafterdark]

LOVE EXILEEE LOVE ITTTT quick question are we finding out reader is pregnant with Everest in this fic?

THANK YOU! So she actually doesn’t get pregnant with Everest until after her birthday in Twenty Questions. So I think the plan is to end Exile right before or at the start of Twenty Questions.

[nebulaafterdark]

AHHHH! I NEED TO KNOW WHAT THAT NOTE SAYS

That new part of Exile broke me. Your writing is so heartbreakingly addictive

Well the note clearly says “burn after reading” lol someone has done something they weren’t supposed to 👀

THANK YOU SO MUCH!

[nebulaafterdark]

Exile (Part 7)

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

SOTR spoilers

Part 6

Y/N doesn’t know Haymitch terribly well, but she does know him better than most. So she can tell by the look on his face that someone did have a bug in their ear. And that someone had once been very dear to him. “Haymitch, I don’t need to know everything.” She sighs.

“No, I-” he breaks off, in an attempt to collect himself. “I’ll tell you.” I’d tell you anything.

“Let’s sit.” She leads him to the couch, grabbing one of the open bottles from the coffee table and holding it out to him.

His response is caught between a snicker and a sneer. “You might want a swig or two for this one, angel.”

Y/N plops down beside him, raising the alcohol to her lips and choking down a few mouthfuls.

Haymitch accepts her offering when she holds the liquor out again. Chugging down the remains of the half empty bottle before he begins. “Back in my day, we didn’t have the pretty, well trained, ponies you did.”

The games are ever changing, more ‘show’ each year. Like the Capitol is trying to outdo itself. Even Y/N’s stay at the tribute center was less grand than the accommodations made for Maximus and Denali. “Sure.”

“Some idiot let a firecracker loose, spooked the horses and they threw us off. The other female tribute from district twelve…her name was Louella McCoy.”

‘Turns out, somethin’ like this happened before. With the McCoy’s girl.’

Haymitch feels Y/N’s hand close over his. “I tried to get to her.”

“Of course you did.”

“It happened quick.” He tells her. “Louella was gone. I wasn’t sure what would happen. They needed her for the games.” Not like back in the early days when tributes were lost before the arena. They needed four tributes from district twelve. “Maysilee told me they were going to take her body. I couldn’t let them. Not yet.”

Y/N nods, hanging off every word.

“I jumped back on the only chariot with any chance of ending up at the mansion and showed Snow what he’d done. Applauded him even.”

“I’m sure he loved that.”

Haymitch chuckles, reaching for another open bottle. “When they finally did take her, I thought it was over.”

How could they bring her back to life?

“I received a belated birthday present from the president himself.” Haymitch tosses back another swallow. “It was ‘Louella McCoy.’”

“How?” There is something sick about the inflection in his voice.

“We called her Lou Lou.”

“So if she wasn’t Louella, who was she?”

“Our best guess was a rebel’s kid out of district eleven.” Haymitch squeezes his eyes shut against the unbidden image of the girl. “They’d starved her, injected something into her face to make it fuller. They…” He can hardly bring himself to say it, “god, Y/N, I don’t even know what they did to her.”

Y/N shifts closer, wrapping her arms around him.

“They had some kid of device in her ear that controlled her.” Haymitch recounts, “Wyatt died trying to save that little girl. He didn’t even know her real name.”

‘The Callow boy died a while before she did and didn’t smell half as foul when he got home.’

“I can’t imagine they buried her.”

“I’m sorry, Haymitch.”

“What aired in the districts…they doctored it.” Haymitch tells her, “there were things that happened in that arena they didn’t want anyone to know.”

Y/N guides the bottle in his hand to her own mouth. The liquid is still foul, burning its way down her esophagus.

“You told Plutarch you wanted to break the board.” Haymitch breathes, “I need you to know that I’ve already tried. It’s not possible.”

“Maybe we just had to be on the outside.”

“Angel.”

“Maybe we have to keep playing the game for while. But I think we can do it together. We can still break the board.”

“It will take years of playing the game.” He warns, “people are gonna hate you for it.”

“People already hate me.” Y/N scoffs.

“They’re going to hate you more.”

“Then they can hate me.” She decides, “one day they’ll understand.”

“I can’t let you do that to yourself.” Haymitch argues.

“You can’t stop me.” Y/N arches a brow.

He groans, tossing his head back against the sofa. Staring up at the ceiling as he releases a disgruntled, “I’m tired, Maysilee! Your niece doesn’t listen for shit and she’s drinking up all my hooch.”

Y/N laughs, a deep belly laugh that fills the baron walls of Haymitch’s house with joy. Breathing life back into it. Making it a home. “He’s lying, Lee. He’s the one who doesn’t listen.”

“Lee?” Maysilee never struck him as a ‘Lee.’

“It’s kind of silly,” Y/N says. “When I was really little, I couldn’t remember who was Maysilee and who was Merrilee. So I called them both Lee, when I got old enough to tell the difference it was too late. The name stuck.”

“Nicknames’ll do that.”

“It’s weird sometimes…how much you miss people who’ve been gone longer than you ever knew them.”

“Yeah,” Haymitch’s mouth twitches. Love is funny that way.

“That’s why we have to break the board, Haymitch.”

Haymitch grins, passing a hand over his face. “I’m not agreeing to anything, but that was a great pitch. I’ll give you that.”

“Come on, Haymitch!” Emboldened by the alcohol, Y/N turns toward him, straddling his hips. Their noses pressed together.

He can’t help but laugh, resting his hands against her waist.

“Everyone is rooting for us.”

“This is very compelling,” he assures her.

“We can do this.”

Haymitch inhales, pulling his face away from hers, a fraction of an inch. “I will consider it.”

She’s kissing him then, hot and heavy, hands buried in his hair.

His own hands wandering, catching on a folded piece of paper in the back pocket of her pants. It falls to the floor.

Neither of them can be bothered with it.

————————————————————————

Bam!

Bam!

Bam!

Y/N rubs at her eyes, forcing them open.

Bam!

Bam!

Bam!

Someone is pounding at the front door.

Haymitch is still sleeping soundly, one arm draped over her waist.

“Haymitch,” Y/N shakes the limb, gently.

“Hmm?”

“There’s someone at the door.”

“And they can stay there until morning.” Haymitch nuzzles against her shoulder.

“Y/N!” The mayor calls, “Haymitch!”

“It’s my dad.” Y/N springs from the bed. Tossing one of the nightgowns, gifted by the Capitol, over her head. Shrugged on the matching robe.

Haymitch is slower to dress, pulling on pair of black silk shorts and button up pajama set.

In their slippers and bedhead, the victors of district twelve meet him at the door.

“What’s wrong?” Y/N demands, breathlessly.

“I’m so sorry,” her father pulls her in for a hug. “The house is up in flames.”

“What house?”

“The Carell house.”

No.

No.

No.

“They’re in the house.”

Haymitch rushes past them, taking off like a bat out of hell. Sprinting from Victors’ Village to the house at the far end of the seam.

The scene is familiar to him. The fire, everyone running either to or from it. Buckets of water that do little but fizzle in the heat.

“Are they still in there?” Haymitch asks one of the bystanders.

“Where else would they be? We ain’t all got a village to ourselves.”

I hate this. Haymitch is now the one holding someone he loves away from the flames, as they beg and scream to be released. I hate this.

The fire takes the house down to the studs, despite everyone’s best efforts. The Carell house is gone and so are they.

“Everyone please return to your homes, we are looking into this!” The mayor’s voice booms into the night air.

Onlookers scurry away from them and the shadow of death and destruction that follows. As though they are cursed…perhaps they are.

————————————————————————-

When there is nothing else to be done, Y/N and Haymitch are dismissed.

“If there’s any word, you’ll be the first to know.” Y/N’s father promises.

So they return to Haymitch’s house, locking the door behind them. In a state of shock, Y/N moves toward the nearest piece of furniture to lie down.

“No,” Haymitch steers her away from the couch. “You need to bathe, you’re covered in soot.”

Y/N stares down at her hands, stained with ash and dirt. She allows him to march her up the stairs and draw her a bath.

Haymitch washes her meticulously, though he himself remains dirty. The water is black when he’s finished. So he drains it, only to fill it again. When he is satisfied, he towels her off. “Do you think you can get dressed while I shower?”

Y/N nods.

He doesn’t dare close the door between them. The distance from the bedroom to the ensuite is excruciating enough.

She’s two bottles deep when he returns, passed out on the duvet, with the evidence in each hand.

Haymitch moves them away. Glass clattering to the floor. This game is going to break your heart. She is different than him. Better. Not nearly as selfish. Oh no, my angel. This game is not for you.

————————————————————————

Haymitch wakes to the afternoon sun, the mattress is cool where Y/N had been. He sets out in search of her, finding Y/N standing at the fireplace; note in hand.

As he moves closer, Haymitch is able to make out the words etched into the parchment.

‘Burn after reading.’

Part 8

Taglist: @spideysimpossiblegirl @ancientbeing10 @1-800-styles @l3xi3luv @lam-ila @druby2011-blog @liballer @readinginthe-am @rae-11 @champomiel @mariechristine00 @solacestyles @inky-sun @dadbodfanatic-x @sandorcleganeslutt @indigoashh @mustainelove @darkened-writer @ch3rrybutterfly @boredomquest @theladyofmanyfandomsofficial @kisskittenn @kwllakka @feeblemindedfool @oopsieikilledan @that-one-fangirl69 @just-levyy @thisisthepartwhereishutup @alixxhere @quackitys-amor @pepelachanel @lurkingsparrow @faithalsip09 @cwallace02sblog @animaloversammy @peachiesnsilk @libbyaller @juiceboxfullofslime @libra-2409 @heidiland05 @evansorry @caraxes-syrax

[nebulaafterdark]

Technically this should’ve been posted on this blog 🤫

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

Today is a big day.

Through all the diapers and sleepless nights, they made it. One year of being parents to this perfect little boy. Haymitch is still in awe of him.

“Vanity sent clothes.” Y/N tells Haymitch, watching as he turns to her with their son in his arms. “Cameras will be here later.”

“Surprised she’s not here.”

“She’s got a show,” Y/N inches closer, enough to tickle Everest’s little belly. “High fashion waits for no one.”

The boy squeals, hiding his face in his father’s shirt.

Haymitch smiles, keeping hold of the wiggling child. “On a scale from ugly to hideous, how bad are they?”

“They’re pretty tame,” Y/N shrugs.

I love you. Haymitch has to bite his tongue to keep the words from escaping. He just can’t risk it.

————————————————————————

Y/N’s family joins them for the festivities and cake of course. Though there is only so much a one year old can do, Caesar Flickerman is hosting live from the Capitol. And they’ve sent Everest a very special gift.

“Now, we’ve sent this all the way to district twelve.” Caesar narrates, as the cameras in their living room move of their own accord. “I do hope it’s to your liking.”

“I’m sure it is, Caesar.” Haymitch says, “you know us all so well.”

Everest, in his white collared shirt and powder blue overalls, claps his hands, watching his father remove the lid of the box. The sides fall free, revealing a black rocking horse.

“Oh,” Y/N gasps. “This is beautiful!”

Haymitch wants to play his part, to smile and admire the craftsmanship, but he can’t move. He can barely breathe.

Y/N carefully seats her son on the horse, keeping hold as he begins to rock. Drawing the camera away from Haymitch, to a tight shot of the birthday boy.

‘Oh, Horn of Plenty. One Horn of Plenty for us all. And when you raise the cry, the brave shall heed the call, and we should never falther. One Horn of Plenty for us all.’

The anthem ends only to begin again.

Everest babbles, toying with the horse’s mane.

“He loves it!” Y/N rejoices, and through the camera’s speaker she can hear similar applause in the Capitol.

“Ahhaha! We are so please to hear that.” Caesar’s voice booms through the camera speaker. “As much as we hate to see you go, I’m afraid it’s time for our next segment.”

“Of course, we understand, Caesar.” Y/N says. “Thank you all for your generosity and for celebrating Everest’s birthday with us!” She waves. “We’ll see you soon.”

“Bye, bye.” The little boys coos.

“Bye, bye!” Caesar replies, tearfully.

The cameras power down and wheel themselves out the open door, leaving the birthday boy and his family.

“Get him off that horse.” Haymitch demands, slamming the front door closed and turning the lock.

“Why?” Y/N’s father laughs, “surely we don’t need to be so strict about bedtime. It’s my grandson’s birthday.”

“Dad,” Y/N whispers, taking Everest back into her arms. “It’s been a long day.”

“Haymitch?” Madge waves a hand in front of his glossy eyes. “Are you ok?”

“I need a minute, Maysilee.” Shit. Fuck. “Madge. I’m sorry. I meant Madge.”

Too late. Y/N’s mother bursts into tears, clutching at her head.

Madge’s face crumples, “it’s ok, Haymitch. I know you didn’t mean too.” This happens a lot, not with Haymitch, but her mother. Maysilee or Merrilee. I’m whoever you want me to be.

He wishes the earth would open up and swallow him whole.

“They took them all, they took them!”

“Melodiee, please my love.” Y/N’s father sighs, stepping around his daughters to his wife. “Where’s your medicine?”

With the commotion, Everest begins to cry.

“It’s ok,” Y/N forces a smile, looking down at her son. “You’re ok.”

Haymitch moves, as if in a trance toward his son. Oh my baby. My poor, sweet baby. What have I done? Can I spare you? He says nothing, caressing the back of Everest’s head. No, I fear, they will not let me spare you.

One might find humor in the fact that a rocking horse could cause a family to collapse; splintering apart on what should be a happy day.

The Undersees clear out, leaving only Haymitch, Y/N and Everest. Who still needs to be rocked to sleep, despite what the morning may bring.

Y/N sits with Everest in the rocking chair of his nursery. They’d hoped to wean him off of nursing, but tonight he is too restless. And Y/N is too tired to be in this chair any longer than necessary.

She hums and sways until the little hand fisted in her shirt releases. He’s out like a light.

Haymitch watches from the doorway as Y/N eases their son into his crib. Waiting until she closes the door to his room before speaking. “I took it to the other house.”

The ‘other house’ had once been hers. Now plagued with unwanted cameras and haunted horses.

She nods, before taking his face in her hands. “Haymitch, I know that after everything we’ve been through, things can seem worse or bigger than they are. It happens to me too. But if anything, Snow just wanted to rile you up. I don’t think the horse means anything.”

“We got thrown off the chariots. Louella died and I took her body to him using a horse that looked just like that.”

“I know,” Y/N nods, “I hear you.”

“Tributes are drawn by black horses in the parade while the anthem plays.” Haymitch snarls, “Snow wants him for the games.”

“Then we have eleven years to change his mind.”

“Beetee had twelve.” Haymitch’s heart is beating itself out of his chest. “We’re raising a lamb for the slaughter.”

“No,” Y/N stops him. “No we’re not.” She passes her thumb over his cheek. “We can learn from Beetee. We’re gonna play our parts, we’re gonna do whatever Snow says.”

Haymitch knows he should object, this isn’t what Y/N wants. She longs to be wild and free, to storm the Capitol, guns blazing. But he needs her, like air, to breathe. “It’s too late, Y/N. He knows.”

“He knows what?” Y/N breathes.

“That I love-” Haymitch tries to stop it, to stuff the words back down, but he can’t. “You! I love you and he knows.”

“Oh, Haymitch.”

He presses a hand to his mouth to contain the unbidden sob.

Y/N wraps her arms around him. “I love you too.”

He clings to her, as though she will slip right through his fingers. “I love-” he wants to tell her a hundred, thousand times, but the words burn, like acid in his throat.

“I know,” Y/N strokes his hair, the same color as their son’s. “You don’t have to say it. I know.”

He holds her and weeps. For his Pa, Ma and Sid. For Maysilee and Louella and Loulou. For Wyatt and Ampert. And for Beetee, who surely lives in unimaginable pain. For Lenore Dove, who despite her own untimely death, surely sent him an angel. “Everyone I love is dead; except for you and that little boy. Everyone I love.”

“I’m so sorry, Haymitch.” Y/N buries her face in the junction between his neck and shoulder. Kissing him and kissing him and kissing him, doing everything she can to ease his pain. “So sorry.”

Even she can’t stop it. He is broken, defeated and tired. I cannot lose you.

“We’ll be alright.” Y/N promises, “I’ll do what it takes to stay right here with you and keep Everest safe.”

He brings her impossibly closer. I cannot lose Everest. “He’s ours.”

“It’s like you’ve always said, if we make the Capitol fall in love with him, they won’t be eager to watch him fight to the death.” Y/N believes that, she has to.

She’s right, he knows she is. But he’s at the point of no return, words cannot calm him.

“Here,” Y/N snakes a hand between them to unbutton his pants. She knows it is wrong, to comfort him this way. To place a bandage over a bullet wound but she can’t stand his tears. Or the sound of his ragged breathing, cannot bear the thought of him in any kind of pain.

Haymitch helps her shuck his pants down around his ankles, knowing they stand no chance of making it to the bed.

“Ask me again.” Y/N pants, against his mouth. Gentle fingers find the waistband of her panties, forcing them into the ground.

“What?” Haymitch can’t think of anything beyond shoving himself inside her, as deep as he possibly can, on the hallway floor.

“It’s real,” Y/N gasps, welcoming the feel of his length stretching her. “Ask me again.”

“I wanted to do something special.” Not now, within an inch of losing his mind.

“This is special,” Y/N assures him. “Ask me again, I want to be your wife.” If we’re running out of time…I want to be your wife.

“Marry me.” Haymitch says, tugging at her bottom lip with his teeth. “Marry me and you’ll never be alone. You’ll be mine and I’ll be yours. I want to be your husband.” He admits, “I want you to be my wife. Marry me.”

“Yes.” Y/N nods.

Haymitch kisses the side of her face, the corner of her mouth, relishing her little whimpers. Rutting against her harder, faster, until he feels the familiar flutter of her walls around him. Milking him dry.

Y/N sighs contently as Haymitch’s arms give out and he rests his full weight against her.

“I wanna do a toasting.” Haymitch tells her.

Y/N yawns. “Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, angel,” he smiles, “tomorrow.”

————————————————————————

Haymitch wakes to the sound of Everest fussing in his crib. The noise used to send him sprinting from bed, to see what danger had befallen his son, but he knows better now.

“Sometimes babies cry, Haymitch.” Y/N reminds him, “he’s alright. Just wants a clean diaper and milk. Or to be held for a while; he’ll calm right down.”

Haymitch sits up, stretching both arms above his head. Y/N is sound asleep beside him. He presses a kiss to her head before padding down to their son’s room.

Everest leans against the pristine, white slats of his crib. Peeking out to see who’s come to his rescue. “Dada.”

Haymitch grins. “Good morning.”

Everest squeals as he’s lifted from the confines of his bed.

“Well, kid, I’ve got bad news.”

Everest babbles, shaking about the rattle laid beside him on the changing table.

Haymitch tosses the soiled diaper into the waste basket. “Your mama is still sleeping and we need eggs to make breakfast.”

“Mamamamama.”

“Which means we have to raid one of those wild goose nests outback.”

Everest only smiles as his father dresses him for the day.

“They don’t like me very much, so I’m hoping to distract them with your cuteness.” Haymitch tells him. “Not sure how well it’ll work, given that you look like me and all, but it’s worth a shot.”

[nebulaafterdark]

Thank you so much!

Exile (Part 6)

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

SotR SPOILERS

Part 5

“Y/N’s become too Capitol for the districts, she’s losing her pull there.” Anyone with eyes can see that’s been Snow’s plan all along. Sever her ties with the people.

“How do we fix that?” Haymitch wonders.

“We don’t,” Plutarch decides. “We let her play her hand and wait.”

“How long?” How many recordings? How many tributes? How many of her tears will waiting cost?

Plutarch lifts a shoulder. “Your guess is as good as mine. But when the time comes, she’s our in with the Capitol.”

This news does subsequently nothing to make Haymitch feel better. If anything he feels worse. Downing the rest of Plutarch’s prized liquor bottle before returning to the tribute center. They won’t be provided passage home until the games are over.

The penthouse is quiet now, without Maximus and Denali. Y/N can’t cry anymore about it, not now. She’s had one too many glasses of champagne. Making quick work of the buttons on Haymitch’s shirt, as the door of their suite closes behind them.

Alcohol is nice, drugs are better, but nothing brings the temporary tidal wave of euphoria like Haymitch. His mouth pressed to hers, reducing her brain to mush.

Haymitch rests his hand over hers. “You ok?”

“Not really,” Y/N admits. “Need something to take the edge off.”

“I can get you-”

“You,” she breathes, “I just want you.”

Haymitch tightens his hold on her. I want you too. More than I want to want anything.

Her dress joins his shirt and then his pants, until they’re laid bare. Not district, nor Capitol. Perhaps because they are meant to be neither; they belong to each other.

Nothing exists outside of the gentle rocking of his hips. Nothing to do but breathe him in.

Y/N’s fingers tangle in his hair, drawing him closer.

————————————————————————

They aren’t made to stay past the announcement of Cashmere’s victory. The tribute’s caskets are loaded onto the train and they’re off to twelve.

“Do they have family?” Haymitch asks.

“No.”

“Not even extended? No aunts or uncles?”

“I don’t know, Haymitch.” Y/N sighs. “They’d been going it alone all their lives, if they had someone, I’m sure they would’ve been there.”

Haymitch nods.

“I can ask Cherry and Tucker if they have room.” Tyson’s parents have a little cemetery outback, couldn’t bear to be parted from their son. A few others from the seam take up residence in the spaces beside him now.

Again he nods, before tipping his empty glass upside down and rising to his feet. “I’ll be in the bar car if you need me.”

Y/N lowers her gaze, waiting until the door slides closed behind him to stand. She is headed elsewhere, to the car where two coffins rest, side by side. Collapsing to her knees in the small space between them and resting a hand over each.

Her gut tells her that under her right palm lies Denali, the spitfire of a girl who showed up the careers. And beneath her right is the little boy who clung to her in the elevator. Maximus. But Y/N has not the want nor will to push back the lids and prove her theory.

She remains there, holding vigil until her legs ache. Shifting position enough to lie down and cry herself to sleep.

Once he’s nice and wasted Haymitch stumbles down to the train car farthest from their sleeping quarters. The sight of Y/N’s feet poking out from between the caskets is an unwelcome reminder that this is standard practice for her.

He crouches down, giving her leg a little shake.

“Haymitch?” Y/N lets out a sleepy sigh.

“Come to bed, angel.”

“I don’t wanna leave them.”

“I know,” Haymitch breathes.

“You can go, it’s ok.” She won’t be alone.

“I’ll stay,” though the notion is still foreign to him.

————————————————————————

Y/N’s first stop after departing the train station is the Carrell’s front door. Her district partner, Tyson, had taken care to list off each of his siblings favorite snacks, then his Ma and Pa. Y/N takes equal care to make sure she never comes to them empty handed.

His parents, Cherry and Tucker, embrace her with open arms. Growing together through their collective loss.

Today is different. His siblings are sent to their rooms and Y/N finds herself strapped to the dining room chair.

“What are you doing?” She laughs. Surely this is a joke of some sort.

“What are you doing?” Tyson’s father bites out.

“I brought you cinnamon rolls.” Y/N stammers, “you don’t like them anymore?”

“Don’t do that.” Cherry snaps.

“Do what?” Y/N is starting to panic now, struggling at the rope binding her hands behind her back.

“Act like you’re the same. Nothin’ about you is the same.” The woman says. “You stopped goin’ to the hob, stopped comin’ to see us. Married a man who wouldn’t spit on you if you were on fire, started chummin’ it up with those freaks in the Capitol.”

Tucker shakes his head.

“Uh, uh, not my girl.” Cherry presses on, “I started askin’ around, tryin’ to make sense of what I was seein’. Turns out, somethin’ like this happened before. With the McCoy’s girl.”

“What are you-”

“They took that baby for the games, but she didn’t make it that far. Those animals did somethin’ to her, replaced her with somebody who had a bug in her ear. Didn’t fool her parents none.”

“Like a body double?” Y/N asks.

“The Callow boy died a while before she did and didn’t smell half as foul when he got home.” Tucker recounts.

“I don’t understand.”

“She was long gone before anybody knew and that was over a decade ago.” Cherry murmurs, “imagine how good they coulda got at passin’ people off for somebody else in fourteen years.”

“You think I’m someone else?” Y/N frowns, “a body double from the Capitol?”

“Maybe not a double, maybe they did somethin’ to you.”

“Nothing like you think.” Y/N assures them.

“I love you like my own, so I’m only gonna ask you once.” Tucker drawls, “did they put something in your head?”

“No,” Y/N shakes her head. “If you have questions about what happened to the girl in the Capitol during the Quarter Quell, Haymitch might know.”

“I don’t trust Haymitch any further than I can throw him,” Tucker runs a hand over his grief stricken face. “And right now I’m not even sure I can trust you.”

“Please don’t say that.”

“Then tell us what happened. And it better make a hell of a lot more sense than what you’ve been saying, little girl.”

Y/N pauses, collecting herself. “Snow was going to sell me to the highest bidder. Haymitch made him a deal.”

“Why would President Snow give a damn if you married him or not?” It doesn’t make any sense.

Y/N tells her. “A victor has never married a victor before, the curiosity was there. Snow just took advantage of it, he recorded us together and sold that instead. Threatened my family, if I didn’t perform, I’m willing to bet that includes you too… So I performed.”

The room is silent.

“It’s up to you, believe me or don’t. I came here to make sure you were ok and to ask if I could bury my kids in your backyard.” No secret Capitol agenda.

“Tell us something only you would know.” Tyson’s father demands, wanting to believe her but needing to be sure.

“The first flower I left for Tyson was a dandelion. When it died, I replaced it with a daisy, and a bluebell after that.”

This is Y/N, as best they’ll ever be able to tell.

“Should I keep going?”

Cherry cuts the rope around Y/N’s wrists. “Why do you want to bury them here?”

“They didn’t have a family before, I thought it might be nice for them to have one now.” Y/N massages the blood back into her hands.

Tyson’s mother joins his father, in front of the younger woman. “Sorry about all that.”

“It’s fine.” Y/N sighs, “no one has ever gone to the trouble of tying me up for an intervention before. You guys must really love me.”

“You do what you gotta, from now on Ma and Pa are with you.” You’re the closest thing we’ve got to our boy.

Y/N thanks them, allowing them to hold her for as long as it suits them. The same way she always has.

Eventually she finds her way back home, back to Haymitch and the house in Victor’s Village. He’s the only one who understands her now.

“What’d they say about the kids?” Haymitch wonders.

“They said yes.”

“You were gone a while.”

“They tied me to a chair for interrogation.” Y/N tells him.

What in the hell? “You wanna talk about it?”

“Yeah, actually. They thought I was a Capitol body double or that I had a bug in my head.”

Oh.

Taglist: @spideysimpossiblegirl @ancientbeing10 @1-800-styles @l3xi3luv @lam-ila @druby2011-blog @liballer @readinginthe-am @rae-11 @champomiel @mariechristine00 @solacestyles @inky-sun @dadbodfanatic-x @sandorcleganeslutt @indigoashh @mustainelove @darkened-writer @ch3rrybutterfly @boredomquest @theladyofmanyfandomsofficial @kisskittenn @kwllakka @feeblemindedfool @oopsieikilledan @that-one-fangirl69 @just-levyy @thisisthepartwhereishutup @alixxhere @quackitys-amor @pepelachanel @lurkingsparrow @faithalsip09 @cwallace02sblog @animaloversammy @peachiesnsilk @libbyaller @juiceboxfullofslime @libra-2409

[nebulaafterdark]

Exile (Part 6)

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

SotR SPOILERS

Part 5

“Y/N’s become too Capitol for the districts, she’s losing her pull there.” Anyone with eyes can see that’s been Snow’s plan all along. Sever her ties with the people.

“How do we fix that?” Haymitch wonders.

“We don’t,” Plutarch decides. “We let her play her hand and wait.”

“How long?” How many recordings? How many tributes? How many of her tears will waiting cost?

Plutarch lifts a shoulder. “Your guess is as good as mine. But when the time comes, she’s our in with the Capitol.”

This news does subsequently nothing to make Haymitch feel better. If anything he feels worse. Downing the rest of Plutarch’s prized liquor bottle before returning to the tribute center. They won’t be provided passage home until the games are over.

The penthouse is quiet now, without Maximus and Denali. Y/N can’t cry anymore about it, not now. She’s had one too many glasses of champagne. Making quick work of the buttons on Haymitch’s shirt, as the door of their suite closes behind them.

Alcohol is nice, drugs are better, but nothing brings the temporary tidal wave of euphoria like Haymitch. His mouth pressed to hers, reducing her brain to mush.

Haymitch rests his hand over hers. “You ok?”

“Not really,” Y/N admits. “Need something to take the edge off.”

“I can get you-”

“You,” she breathes, “I just want you.”

Haymitch tightens his hold on her. I want you too. More than I want to want anything.

Her dress joins his shirt and then his pants, until they’re laid bare. Not district, nor Capitol. Perhaps because they are meant to be neither; they belong to each other.

Nothing exists outside of the gentle rocking of his hips. Nothing to do but breathe him in.

Y/N’s fingers tangle in his hair, drawing him closer.

————————————————————————

They aren’t made to stay past the announcement of Cashmere’s victory. The tribute’s caskets are loaded onto the train and they’re off to twelve.

“Do they have family?” Haymitch asks.

“No.”

“Not even extended? No aunts or uncles?”

“I don’t know, Haymitch.” Y/N sighs. “They’d been going it alone all their lives, if they had someone, I’m sure they would’ve been there.”

Haymitch nods.

“I can ask Cherry and Tucker if they have room.” Tyson’s parents have a little cemetery outback, couldn’t bear to be parted from their son. A few others from the seam take up residence in the spaces beside him now.

Again he nods, before tipping his empty glass upside down and rising to his feet. “I’ll be in the bar car if you need me.”

Y/N lowers her gaze, waiting until the door slides closed behind him to stand. She is headed elsewhere, to the car where two coffins rest, side by side. Collapsing to her knees in the small space between them and resting a hand over each.

Her gut tells her that under her right palm lies Denali, the spitfire of a girl who showed up the careers. And beneath her right is the little boy who clung to her in the elevator. Maximus. But Y/N has not the want nor will to push back the lids and prove her theory.

She remains there, holding vigil until her legs ache. Shifting position enough to lie down and cry herself to sleep.

Once he’s nice and wasted Haymitch stumbles down to the train car farthest from their sleeping quarters. The sight of Y/N’s feet poking out from between the caskets is an unwelcome reminder that this is standard practice for her.

He crouches down, giving her leg a little shake.

“Haymitch?” Y/N lets out a sleepy sigh.

“Come to bed, angel.”

“I don’t wanna leave them.”

“I know,” Haymitch breathes.

“You can go, it’s ok.” She won’t be alone.

“I’ll stay,” though the notion is still foreign to him.

————————————————————————

Y/N’s first stop after departing the train station is the Carrell’s front door. Her district partner, Tyson, had taken care to list off each of his siblings favorite snacks, then his Ma and Pa. Y/N takes equal care to make sure she never comes to them empty handed.

His parents, Cherry and Tucker, embrace her with open arms. Growing together through their collective loss.

Today is different. His siblings are sent to their rooms and Y/N finds herself strapped to the dining room chair.

“What are you doing?” She laughs. Surely this is a joke of some sort.

“What are you doing?” Tyson’s father bites out.

“I brought you cinnamon rolls.” Y/N stammers, “you don’t like them anymore?”

“Don’t do that.” Cherry snaps.

“Do what?” Y/N is starting to panic now, struggling at the rope binding her hands behind her back.

“Act like you’re the same. Nothin’ about you is the same.” The woman says. “You stopped goin’ to the hob, stopped comin’ to see us. Married a man who wouldn’t spit on you if you were on fire, started chummin’ it up with those freaks in the Capitol.”

Tucker shakes his head.

“Uh, uh, not my girl.” Cherry presses on, “I started askin’ around, tryin’ to make sense of what I was seein’. Turns out, somethin’ like this happened before. With the McCoy’s girl.”

“What are you-”

“They took that baby for the games, but she didn’t make it that far. Those animals did somethin’ to her, replaced her with somebody who had a bug in her ear. Didn’t fool her parents none.”

“Like a body double?” Y/N asks.

“The Callow boy died a while before she did and didn’t smell half as foul when he got home.” Tucker recounts.

“I don’t understand.”

“She was long gone before anybody knew and that was over a decade ago.” Cherry murmurs, “imagine how good they coulda got at passin’ people off for somebody else in fourteen years.”

“You think I’m someone else?” Y/N frowns, “a body double from the Capitol?”

“Maybe not a double, maybe they did somethin’ to you.”

“Nothing like you think.” Y/N assures them.

“I love you like my own, so I’m only gonna ask you once.” Tucker drawls, “did they put something in your head?”

“No,” Y/N shakes her head. “If you have questions about what happened to the girl in the Capitol during the Quarter Quell, Haymitch might know.”

“I don’t trust Haymitch any further than I can throw him,” Tucker runs a hand over his grief stricken face. “And right now I’m not even sure I can trust you.”

“Please don’t say that.”

“Then tell us what happened. And it better make a hell of a lot more sense than what you’ve been saying, little girl.”

Y/N pauses, collecting herself. “Snow was going to sell me to the highest bidder. Haymitch made him a deal.”

“Why would President Snow give a damn if you married him or not?” It doesn’t make any sense.

Y/N tells her. “A victor has never married a victor before, the curiosity was there. Snow just took advantage of it, he recorded us together and sold that instead. Threatened my family, if I didn’t perform, I’m willing to bet that includes you too… So I performed.”

The room is silent.

“It’s up to you, believe me or don’t. I came here to make sure you were ok and to ask if I could bury my kids in your backyard.” No secret Capitol agenda.

“Tell us something only you would know.” Tyson’s father demands, wanting to believe her but needing to be sure.

“The first flower I left for Tyson was a dandelion. When it died, I replaced it with a daisy, and a bluebell after that.”

This is Y/N, as best they’ll ever be able to tell.

“Should I keep going?”

Cherry cuts the rope around Y/N’s wrists. “Why do you want to bury them here?”

“They didn’t have a family before, I thought it might be nice for them to have one now.” Y/N massages the blood back into her hands.

Tyson’s mother joins his father, in front of the younger woman. “Sorry about all that.”

“It’s fine.” Y/N sighs, “no one has ever gone to the trouble of tying me up for an intervention before. You guys must really love me.”

“You do what you gotta, from now on Ma and Pa are with you.” You’re the closest thing we’ve got to our boy.

Y/N thanks them, allowing them to hold her for as long as it suits them. The same way she always has.

Eventually she finds her way back home, back to Haymitch and the house in Victor’s Village. He’s the only one who understands her now.

“What’d they say about the kids?” Haymitch wonders.

“They said yes.”

“You were gone a while.”

“They tied me to a chair for interrogation.” Y/N tells him.

What in the hell? “You wanna talk about it?”

“Yeah, actually. They thought I was a Capitol body double or that I had a bug in my head.”

Oh.

Part 7

Taglist: @spideysimpossiblegirl @ancientbeing10 @1-800-styles @l3xi3luv @lam-ila @druby2011-blog @liballer @readinginthe-am @rae-11 @champomiel @mariechristine00 @solacestyles @inky-sun @dadbodfanatic-x @sandorcleganeslutt @indigoashh @mustainelove @darkened-writer @ch3rrybutterfly @boredomquest @theladyofmanyfandomsofficial @kisskittenn @kwllakka @feeblemindedfool @oopsieikilledan @that-one-fangirl69 @just-levyy @thisisthepartwhereishutup @alixxhere @quackitys-amor @pepelachanel @lurkingsparrow @faithalsip09 @cwallace02sblog @animaloversammy @peachiesnsilk @libbyaller @juiceboxfullofslime @libra-2409

[nebulaafterdark]

Exile Part 6 posting 3/27

Y/N’s new found popularity with citizens of the Capitol causes those closest to her in district 12, to question what extreme measures have been taken to cause this shift in her behavior. And if the woman returning to them is even Y/N at all. (It obviously is, but 🤫 they need to question it.)

Horn of Plenty (over on @nebulablakemurphy) coming soon. For Everest’s first birthday he’s gifted a beautiful black rocking horse from the Capitol which plays the national anthem. Featuring angst, ptsd and Haymitch telling Y/N that he loves her for the first time. Get ready.