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ma1dita · 3 months

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buddy system

a ‘partners in crime’ installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 4.2k

summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where he comes with you to rescue your twin brothers, Pollux and Castor. A weekend 'quest' teaches you a lot about Luke, and about yourself too. Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader

a/n: um i cant apologize for this word count and ive been looking at this for too long so fuck. Anyways do yall think Luke felt bad when he found out Castor died in battle because of his army in this universe? just me?? okay :) also trouble gets a cool magic item that makes an appearance here, kinda works like polyjuice but with smoke

(posted 2/7/24 betad by lovely ellie @lixzey might edit again when i get some sleep)

—

“No. You might be my father, but you’re crazy, man!”

You’re standing in D’s office at the Big House, and what was supposed to be a short talk before the counselors’ meeting has turned into a full-blown argument. It’s hard to focus on anything other than the words leaving your godrent’s mouth.

You’re going to pick up your little brothers.

“Those two statements are both true, kid. You’re old enough to understand that!”

They need your help.

“You’re really letting your 16-year-old daughter drive down to Florida by herself to pick up some kids she’s never met? Won’t even send me with any quest companions, or like, Grover?” you say exasperatedly, before slumping down into a seat.

“Think of it as family bonding! They’re great from what I remember. You all need to get along anyway.”

Whether it was jealousy or the sudden urge to be petty, you impulsively grab your dad’s Diet Coke and chug it, crushing the can with your fist as a tiny act of rebellion.

Another one appears on the desk and you chuck it over your shoulder. Mr. D sighs as he conjures another one, to which you do the same thing.

“I can do this all day, kid.”

“So can I, and you know if I do, we’ll be sitting here until I’m 40,” you say expectantly, tapping your fingers on the hardwood surface of his desk.

“What do you want?”

The keys to his car are a start, as well as extra pocket money—but there was something, or rather, someone missing to make sure this weekend goes as smoothly as possible.

Your smirk widens at your father, and he wonders when you’ve gotten good at playing his own game.

It’s like looking into a mirror but his worst nightmare manifested as a teenage girl.

—

There are only two things Luke can think about when he hears the sound of your laughter.

The first is that, unlike your angelic singing that could rival the Muses, your laughter takes after the sound of a maniac, an incredulous crescendo that only something curated by Hades in the deepest pits of Tartarus could produce. It was almost madness-inducing, and it went off in his brain like you were a siren (although he means the kind used for weather advisory, he too gets lured in by your laughter each time he hears it like he’s lost at sea).

Second, as he watches you storm down the lawn of the Big House, your anger brewing something comparable to a Category 5, he raises an eyebrow and thinks, well this ought to be good. Or entertaining at the very least.

“You,” you growl at him, guttural and sharp like the finger you jab into his chest, “we’re going on a quest!”

“Me?” Luke blurts, eyebrows furrowing at you.

A loud groan echoes through the grassy space between the house and the counselors as everyone looks up to see Mr. D dragging his hands down his face at the sheer thought of his daughter causing him more gray hairs.

“That’s not what we agreed on, kid!” “If you want any of your children to come back to this hellhole in one piece I need backup!” “There’s more of you?”

Both you and your dad glare at Luke now, like he’s interrupting a private conversation.

“Since when do you like asking for help, princess?”

Mr. D’s arms are crossed over his chest as he speaks to you. Though your height severely differs due to the wooden steps of the Big House, the air is palpable with fear only an Olympian could invoke, reminding the counselors that the man wearing the ugliest Hawaiian shirt known to humankind, is in fact inhuman. You, however, are standing tall in the freshly-cut grass in your combat boots with wrath that could rival Ares’ as you stare your father down like the rest of them wouldn’t get struck into the next lifetime due to your impertinence, as Annabeth loves to call it. She looks up at Luke, with her eyes conveying that she thinks you must be clinically insane, but he knows that already so he shrugs.

“I’m not asking for it, I’m demanding it. Besides, he’s like my ESA,” you say, then taking Luke by surprise as you grab him by the wrist and drag him off the front lawn. You think you can hear Beckendorf and Clarisse bite back chuckles.

“Someone tell Rodriguez he’s in charge of 11!” you yell into the air, and words of affirmation and good luck are muttered in response.

“Don’t I get a say in this, trouble?” Luke says playfully, tugging at your arm lightly but unresisting as you sigh and pull him along. Who in their right mind says no to a long weekend away from this place? Monsters and demigods be damned.

“No. Besides, they’re gonna need more luck than we do.”

“Liam, I don’t know why she trusts you, but if my daughter dies, I’ll make sure you’re next!” Mr. D yells out to your retreating figures, and all of the counselors turn to face him realizing that without you, well… that means he actually has to be in charge.

“So what’s the meeting supposed to be about, Annabelle?” Mr. D says, looking at Annabeth only knowing that she’s supposed to be the smart one—and the small girl sighs.

This is gonna be the longest weekend yet.

—

You’re speeding down I-95 with the windows down and the wind brushing through both of your hair. While Luke watches you from the passenger seat with the road signs blurring past his periphery, he also notices that it’s the first time in a while that he’s seen you this carefree. With both of you taking up counselor positions a few months ago, and your dad appointing you to be in charge of all of them (because why have a counselor for a population of one), there’s a lot about you that’s grown up in the two years you two have known each other. But what type of demigod gets to enjoy their childhood anyway, right? Luke can only remember bits and pieces of his.

“How do you even know where we’re going? I can barely read the signs,” he asks.

“Cool blessing from my stepmom. Ariadne’s chill. We talk sometimes and she likes that I keep D in check, so now I can never get lost,” you grin toothily, violet eyes flickering to meet his.

“Was it true what your dad said? That you trust me?”

His voice is a bit louder than it should be over the wind tunnel that blocks out the sound of the radio as the air whips in and out of the car.

“Well, I wouldn't say trust,” you drag out, leaning back against your seat with your eyes still on the road, “More like if I got abducted by a harpy, I think you could cut its wings off and give me a fighting chance at living.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t invite Mason to come,” he mumbles, and you smirk.

“Who?”

His hands are clenched in his lap as a blush brushes his cheeks, windswept in the rays of the late summer sun.

“Your boyfriend. Wouldn’t he be a better companion?”

Something about the older son of Apollo always ground his gears. It was even worse that you both would sing Broadway musicals together during his sparring sessions. Your harmonious voices echoing from the amphitheater aside, the repetitive grating feeling in his stomach reminds him not to go see Hamilton if he ever makes it out to the city.

“He’s not…” you huff, tapping your fingers on the steering wheel as you think hard on what to say next, “He’s nothing serious.” You pull the sun visor down as you squint, tilting your head in case he says something else, but you hear nothing. Luke’s staring at your side profile, unable to hide his grin at the new information, biting his cheek.

“Besides, he’s a fucking terrible shot. And you’re supposed to be the best, so I’ve heard. Who else would I want on this trip with me?”

He chuckles at this lightly, your words bolstering his ego.

“So you’ve heard.”

And for a second, the sight of his smile distracts you enough that the car swerves a tiny bit closer to the median. You both ignore it and keep driving.

—-

Hypnos increases his hold on your senses as you finally take a break somewhere in North Carolina, taking refuge in a dimly lit corner of a gas station parking lot. The old car reeks of greasy fast food and all the sugar Luke could get his hands on at rest stops (it was really cute to see him indulge in more normal things like sweets instead of swordsmanship), and both of your seats are leaned back, but it’s hard to get comfortable after having your butt in the same seat for several hours.

You readjust yourself again, making the car shake a bit as you turn over to face Luke.

“What’s wrong?” he mumbles through closed eyes. His head’s banged against the window one too many times, and it was starting to get annoying.

“Sorry. Just can’t sleep. Thinking too hard.”

He sighs, reaching over to toss your pillow into the backseat, and as you sit up, he rips your blanket off of you too.

“Hey!”

You go silent when you watch him make a makeshift bed for you, turning back with tired eyes as he gestures, “Go ahead. I don’t mind.”

“I feel bad, Luke. You’re taller than me and your knees almost hit the dashboard.”

He rubs at his eyes, looking at you impatiently, and you know his body is calling for comfort too.

“I’ve slept in worse conditions, you gotta remember that, trouble.” The stories Annie used to tell you about the both of them sleeping on the streets pull at your heart, and as you crawl towards the back, you move before you think rationally–tugging on his arm.

“Come on over here.”

“You sure?” “Before I change my mind, yeah.”

You both move around trying to find a place both of you can be comfortable in, first starting with your heads at opposite windows, legs tangling in the middle before he laughs a little too hard at your fumbling and you launch your pillow at his face. Awkwardly, you climb over his legs into his outstretched arms, slotting yourself against his side as he pulls your hair up from getting trapped between his shoulder and your back.

It’s deadly quiet, and Luke thinks if you could move any closer to him, you might hear his heart thundering in his chest.

“You smell like french fries,” you grumble into his sweater, and his laughter shakes you like an earthquake, uprooting the faint traces of sleep in your mind.

“At least the monsters won’t find us. Gonna be harder when the twins get here. A lot of demigod smell to ward off.”

You don’t answer, and he thinks you may have fallen asleep until he notices your hand playing with the frays of his sweater.

“Trouble?”

“They’re really little,” you mumble, so low that he barely hears the hesitance in your voice.

“The monsters? Yeah, I fucking ho–” “Pollux and Castor. My…half-siblings, with really Greek names, and a mom that depends on me getting them to camp safely…” you trail off before your head jerks up to meet his eyes. It’s colder at night now, your bodies and the tiny throw blanket from your trunk providing ample heat even if his socked feet fight their way out from underneath.

“How old are they, nine?” He feels you nod against his chest before he continues, “I was nine when I left home.”

Your eyes get glassy at the thought of a smaller version of Luke, one who’s not all gangly legs and lean muscle—one much softer and innocent than the boy you lean your weight upon, running away from home to find a place he can belong.

“I didn’t know that. I’m sorry.”

He shrugs, the arm propped against the headrest wrapping around you and resting on your hip, tapping you to continue your previous thought.

“I don’t know how to do this, I guess. I’m ripping them from their home and I—” “You’re not some kind of monster y’know? You put yourself down too much sometimes,” he sighs, and he watches the windows slowly start to fog up, “What don’t you know how to do?”

Ignoring his question, you change the subject hoping to talk about something lighter, and far less revealing to the thoughts inside your head.

“Do you remember all of that? Going to school and chalking up the sidewalks on the way home, hopscotch and ice cream trucks… I don’t want to take them away from that.”

Luke ponders, digging through his brain for anything happy from his childhood, but through the years his memories started to collect dust in the back of his mind.

“I don’t remember much.”

“Gods, I’m sorry…”

Mason had told you of your habit of putting your foot in your mouth. You dealt in extremes, giving too much or too little, always saying the wrong thing—and it was the reason why things didn’t go further with the son of Apollo. As well as with the daughter of Aphrodite you saw briefly that told you you didn’t know how to love, not if you didn’t know how to share yourself with others (yeah that one hurt a lot).

Sharing.

That’s what you’re hesitant about.

“Don’t be. It was a long time ago now,” Luke mumbles, a beat of silence passing before he redirects the conversation like you did, “What don’t you know how to do, trouble?”

“How to share. Be a sibling. Someone likeable.”

Luke doesn’t mean to laugh at your expense, but he does, and you punch his stomach hard enough he gasps for air.

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Everyone likes you.”

“Everyone’s usually scared of me because of D, or hates me because I take dessert privileges and write them up,” you say matter-of-factly, staring out the window above his head at the gentle shine of the moon on his features. It’s a crime for him to look so soft under the low light, and you realize you’re staring when he calls your name.

“No, you don’t get it—you’re the most selfless person I know. You give up sleep to sing to kids before bed, conjure juice boxes so they don’t pass out during training—I’ve seen you carry a kid almost as tall as you across camp because they broke their ankle. You’ve got a lot of love in that twisted heart of yours. I’d know… I mean—I have to share a lot… I’m basically an expert.”

You blink at him as if seeing him in a new light, and you realize then why you picked him to go on this weekend quest with you. Your heartbeat slows despite the show of vulnerability in front of him, and you understand now that Luke makes you feel safe. Biting your lip to hold back a sigh, you decide to just unload the rest of your thoughts, knowing that you’re in the hands of someone who wants to hold the weight. “I’m just used to being alone, I think. I mean who knows what we're like when we're alone but us, right? What a terrifying thought,” you deflect, and Luke closely watches the slope of your nose, down to the smoothness of your lips, unable to put the right words to how he’s feeling.

I know you, he thinks, and it's not as all bad as you make it seem.

“We’re never truly alone, y’know. Besides, even if you are, you still have me,” he says nonchalantly, and the warmth on your cheeks could generate enough heat to run the car for miles. Chuckling lightly as your eyes flutter closed, you know you need to rest before morning comes since you’re the only one between the two of you that can drive. You reckon you’ll teach Luke by the end of the year if he wants to.

“We’re getting pretty terrible at this enemies thing, Castellan,” you jest with nothing hard to back it, and a smile falls onto both of your lips.

“We were never really enemies, trouble. I just like getting on your nerves.”

Your laughs fall silent, settling into a comfortable silence, until his next words send you off into slumber as you listen.

“I remember my mom singing in the kitchen as she put peanut butter on my sandwiches. She'd act like she left the dishes out for me to wash, but let me lick the knife clean every time and I’d put too much soap and the sink would be filled with bubbles. I don't remember much else but that. Her kitchen. She smelled like…chamomile.”

A wandering hand pulls his free one into yours, holding it until sunrise.

—-

You push Pollux and Castor out the door before the sun rises after a short stay at their mother’s house, and as the engine heats up, you and Luke watch them say goodbye to her with the both of you thinking of last words with your own. The both of you ward off the hellhounds biting off at your heels for a few hours like how you deceived the police the day previous, a purple Zippo lighter in hand whose smoke grants temporary illusions wafting through the car, and it smells like grapes (thanks D!). The kids sleep most of the way, none the wiser and heavy with sleep and their emotions of leaving everything they’ve ever known. Your eyes flicker to their sleeping heads in the rearview mirror, ready to take them home.

Hours later, Luke decides to make you stop at a diner to get you a bit of rest, get actual food, and let the twins pee, and your head is bobbing slightly in front of your plate of food once he brings them back from the bathroom.

“You wash your hands?” you say tiredly, both Pollux and Castor shaking wet hands in your face in response, making you giggle before sipping at your coffee. Luke cut you off from Redbull yesterday, saying he was scared for your liver and saying you needed to drink something else for a bit. He bristles at the sight of you drinking more caffeine, and you smile as the mug touches your lips.

“You’re gonna kill yourself one day. At least your dad drinks Diet Coke.”

“Not by choice, though what a way to go!” you joke, and the twins giggle as the both of them gulp down root beer like it’s essential to their being. Luke sighs at the idea of you having two minions under your belt, who you’ll most definitely train to raise hell on Camp Half-Blood now that you’ve taken more of the administrative side of things.

“Is he your boyfriend, sissy?” Pollux, or maybe it’s Castor pipes up, swinging his legs under the table and you smile at the sound of the nickname, noticing the dimple in his cheek. Luke chokes on his burger, coughing until you elbow him.

“He’s more of my ESA,” you remark, and he still doesn’t know what that is, so he raises an eyebrow like your brothers do as they peer up at you from across the table.

“What’s an ESA?” Castor, you realize, who has no dimples, spits out behind munches of a pickle.

“Luke’s my emotional support animal.”

He eats the rest of your fries despite your confidence in that response, grumbling exactly how a resistant dog would.

As you’re paying the bill, a large shadow looms over the sunny disposition of everyone at your table—and then Luke shouts for everyone to cover their eyes. Glass shatters over you, revealing a hellhound the size of a minivan, and it pounces toward the twins, large teeth bared at their throats. Before Luke can pull his sword out, you whistle sharply and the sound whizzes through the air like a bullet as you toss the Zippo lighter at him as he’s pushing the kids to the car. Though he’s reluctant to lose sight of you, he wards them with an illusion, locking the doors despite their cries and he runs headfirst back into battle, you with your thyrsus and him with his sword, back to back.

“They okay?” you heave, jabbing at the red-eyed canine between the eyes as Luke pulls around to slash it across the neck, coming out of the tussle unscathed as you both watch it keel over at your feet into golden dust minutes later.

“Yeah. Are you?”

Though you originally found it funny, Luke does perform his job well, getting you to calm down as he holds you to his chest until you can breathe normally again.

“Mhm. Just scared me.”

The two of you run out of the destroyed diner and into the warded-off car before the police show up hand in hand as you escape without detection. As he falls asleep, Castor dreams that you two are Bonnie and Clyde like in an old Western movie he was definitely not old enough to watch.

—-

You’re finally back on the Island now, only an hour away from Montauk and Luke is getting restless in the passenger seat. He pulls apples out of his backpack, wiping them off with his shirt as you sing along to a Taylor Swift song playing on the radio.

And maybe someday when we’re older, this is something we’ll laugh about…. Foolish one… you hum, tapping the wheel to fight off your exhaustion.

Pollux and Castor are using their fingers to pretend to hop over obstacles in the smudged windows, babbling about something they did in class last week. The son of Hermes pulls out a pocketknife he nicked from a gas station this morning as he starts to cut the apples into pieces, putting some into a ziploc bag for the boys to share, and you smile at him, wistful at your trip nearing its finish line. If you weren’t enemies before this like he said, it’s crazy to consider him your closest friend. But he is, isn’t he?

His knuckles nudge yours over the console, pressing an apple slice into your palm.

“You know, Castellan, you’re sweet when you want to be. Shame you and that sister of Annie’s didn’t work out.”

Luke scoffs at the reminder of his ex, slicing another piece off for you to eat. She did say he had wandering eyes…always looking for you. He’s not going to admit that though.

“I just know you like your apples cut. Saw you battling it out with a butter knife last week. Couldn’t help but notice,” he says lowly like it’s normal for people to be that considerate about others, normal for him to care about you like that, a constant push and pull between you two.

“Hurts my teeth,” you mutter, and Luke chortles like you’ve told him something life-changing. Your hand bumps into his again, feeling nothing but his calloused fingers, and when you look up his cheek protrudes with the last slice.

“Tax,” he winks, and you’re delirious with this feeling that only he can bring you, almost comparable to being high.

The popstar’s voice continues to trill in the background, with my head in my hands, saying “How could I not see the signs?”

You both don’t realize you’ve stopped singing until Pollux pipes up asking for you to play Fireball by Mr. 305 himself.

—-

The car finally pulls into the driveway of the forest path and you’re all greeted by the campers holding blazing lanterns. Chiron, your father, and the nymphs are waving as the twins marvel at the fairy lights strung up along the way for a warm welcome.

“You’re alive,” your dad remarks, and this time he doesn’t say it in jest, sounding more relieved.

“I was in good hands,” you affirm, looking up at Luke amongst the noise of your cheering friends and the feeling that comes with calling this place home.

The boys are tucked in at your side, shyly looking at the crowd, Pollux holding your hand while Castor holds onto Luke’s, and Chiron calls your attention.

“I know you didn’t get your official announcement,” he starts, and you laugh at that, remembering the bubbles in the lake.

“Because I pulled a fast one on D.”

“Nonetheless, I would love for you to get recognized for your efforts. Dionysus. Storyteller, Herald of Chaos,” he continues by announcing your name, and then,” Pollux, and Castor– children of the grapevine, the God of Wine!”

The campers are kneeling and you look at Luke, who’s smiling from the ground beside you.

“Take a picture, trouble, it’ll last longer.”

“My children are home safe. And thank you, Castellan, for being a formidable companion. My deepest appreciation.” Mr. D sounds serious for once, pulling Luke up as he nods in respect.

It’s a crazy feeling to finally feel at home though you’ve been here for two years now. But you remind yourself quickly of why that is when you see Luke carrying Pollux on his shoulders as Castor latches onto his legs.

“You know, your family is a nightmare. You two hellions will fit right in,” he grins.

You can’t help but agree.

—

“I hadn’t told them about you, but they saw you bathing in my eyes. I hadn’t told them about you, but they saw you in my written words. The perfume of love cannot be concealed.” -Nizar Qabbani

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#luke castellan x dionysus!reader #luke castellan x reader fanfic #luke castellan x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo x reader #luke castellan fluff #made by ma1dita ♥︎#trouble!verse #thank you for reading my love ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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on-my-vigilante-sht · 1 year

Text

Capitol Punishment III

Haymitch x Reader

Summary: The Capitol continues to torture it’s victors no matter how long ago they won through punishment, exploitation, and worst of all; their relationships.

A story in which Haymitch’s lover is a plaything for the Capitol.

Warnings: Canon level violence, rape (though never explicit), alcohol, murder, systemic poverty, exploitation, rebellion (?), more reliance on movie than book, suicidal thoughts

Word Count: 3.0K

Part II | Masterlist | Part IV

You, Cinna, and Effie were all eagerly sat on the couch in the living room of the penthouse waiting for Katniss and Peeta to return from their individual session with the game makers. You were discussing game outfits with Cinna when Effie suddenly interrupted you. “Y/N where is Haymitch?” she demanded.

“Calm down,” you began, “he’s down in the training area waiting for them.”

Before Effie could huff anymore the elevator dinged and out stepped the tributes and Haymitch. Haymitch made a beeline for the bar again as Katniss and Peeta approached the couch. “So how’d it go?” you asked.

“Katniss shot an arrow at them,” Peeta jumped in to answer.

“Peeta!” Katniss scolded.

“Katniss!” Effie shrieked. “Why would you do such a thing?”

As Haymitch rounded the couch, drink in hand, he gave Katniss an emphatic thumbs up. You were glad to she a smile tug at her lips, probably the first since she’s gotten here. “Calm down,” Haymitch told Effie as he sat next to you, throwing an arm over your shoulder.

“Calm down? This reflects badly on all of us!” she huffed.

Haymitch just ignored her. “Tell Y/N what you said,” he laughed.

Katniss chuckled, looking down at her hands. “Thank you for your consideration.”

Haymitch laughed again, repeating the line as Caesar Flickerman appeared on the screen, rattling off numbers until he got to District 12. “From District 12: Peeta Mellark. 8.” Everyone erupted into excited gasps until they were quelled by Caesar’s voice. “Katniss Everdeen. An 11.”

Had you not gotten so good at keeping your face blank, your jaw would’ve dropped. An 11? That was practically unheard of. “I thought they hated me,” Katniss said in disbelief.

“They must’ve liked your guts,” Haymitch answered.

“And your accuracy,” you added.

Cinna then stood up, glass raised. “To Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire!”

You and Haymitch were stood with the other victors and tributes who had already gone, huddled around the screens displaying the tributes’ interviews. You watched intently, the career districts dazzling the audience as always. As for the poorer districts they were all clearly very uncomfortable, boring the audience. You had been a lot like them. You were very uncomfortable with the skin tight, almost sheer dress you had been put in and you gave short, quiet answers to Caesar’s questions.

You watched as Katniss entered the stage looking dazed, tension clawing at your throat. “She’s gonna pass out,” you commented to Haymitch who had a hand rested on your hip.

“She’ll be fine. She’s the girl on fire, people will eat it up.” You only nodded, eyes still locked on the screen as Caesar welcomed her to the stage.

Caesar made a comment, waiting for a reply but all he got was a “What?” from Katniss.

“I think someone’s a little shy,” he laughed gently. “I said that was quite and entrance that you've made at the Tribute's parade the other day. Do you want to tell us about it?”

“Well, I was just hoping that I wouldn't burned to death.”

The crowd erupted into laughter, meanwhile Katniss still looked like she was going to throw up. “When you came out of that chariot, I have to say… My heart stopped. Did any of you experience this as well?” he asked the crowd which let out an applause. “My heart stopped.”

“So did mine,” Katniss breathed, earning another laugh.

“They love her,” you said in awe.

“Yeah they’re liking the vulnerability and the girl on fire thing,” Haymitch said, taking a swig from his drink.

“Now tell me bout the flames. Were they real?” Caesar asked.

“Yes,” Katniss answered with a slight smile. “In fact I'm wearing them today. Would you like to see?”

You clutched Haymitch’s blazer as the crowd began cheering.

“Wait wait wait. Is it safe?” Caesar asked. Katniss smiled and nodded, standing up. She faced the audience before spinning around, flames erupting from the bottom of her gown. “Woah woah woah! Steady!” Caesar called as Katniss’s spins slowed. He helped her sit back down, giving her a second to gather herself. “Katniss, that was something. That was something. Thank you for that. I have one more question for you. It's about your sister,” he paused for a second taking her hand. “We were all very moved, I think when, you volunteered for her at the reaping. Does she come to say goodbye to you?”

“Yes,” Katniss’ voice echoed across the now silent audience. You could see everyone looking incredibly sympathetic towards her.

“And what did you say to her in the end?”

“I told her that I would try to win. That I will try to win for her.” The crowd ‘awed.’

“Of course you did. And try you will,” Caesar said solemnly before take her hand and standing up. Back to him normal, excited presenter self he yelled, “Ladies and gentlemen, from District 12, Katniss Everdeen, The Girl On Fire!”

“They ate that up,” Haymitch celebrated, jostling you a bit. “Sponsors will be clamoring to help her.”

Katniss then walked in, spotting you and Haymitch just as Peeta was entering the stage. “Nice job, sweetheart,” Haymitch complimented. “And nice dress.”

“Thanks,” she muttered before turning her attention to the screen.

Peeta was sat on the chair next to Caesar, looking very comfortable with the spotlight. “How are you finding the Capitol? Don't say with a map,” Caesar said with a laugh.

“Uh, it's uh… different. It's very different,” Peeta said with a suave smile.

“Different? In what way? Give us an example.”

“Uh okay, well the showers here are weird.” The crowd laughed.

“Showers?”

“Yes.”

“We have different showers,” Caesar told the audience.

“I have a question for you Caesar,” Peeta leaned up a little. “Do I smell like roses to you?” he asked very seriously even.

“Um…” Even Caesar, a seasoned professional, seemed surprised by the question.

“Do I?” He seemed especially surprised when Peeta leaned closer, gesturing Caesar to smell him. “Do I?”

“Yeah,” Caesar agreed. “Do I smell like it?” The audience once again roared with laughter as Peeta smelled the host.

“You definitely smell better than I do,” Peeta said, leaning back.

“Well I’ve lived here longer.”

“That makes sense.”

None of the other tributes’ interviews held a candle to Peeta’s. The Capitol was eating up his charming banter and they had adored Katniss’ awkwardness coupled with her image as the girl on fire. You glanced around the room, finding the career tributes sending side eyes to Katniss. Some were trading their glares between Katniss and her district partner on the screen.

You were brought from your thoughts by Caesar’s next question. “So Peeta tell me… is there a special girl back home?”

Peeta chucked bashfully. “No, not really.”

“No? I don't believe it for a second. Look at that face. Handsome man like you, Peeta. Tell me.”

Peeta licked his lips, the only sign of nervousness tonight. “Well, there a… there's this one girl that I had a crush on forever. But I don't think she actually recognize me until the reaping.”

“Well… I'll tell you what Peeta. You go out there and you win this thing. And when you get home, she'll have to go out with you. Right folks?” The crowed cheered.

“Thanks but I uh… I don't think winnings gonna help me at all.” Peeta was picking at the arm of his chair, not making eye contact. “Because she came here with me.” All three of you froze, both you and Haymitch slowly turning to look at Katniss. She had a look of shock that slowly morphed into anger.

The crowd broke out into sounds of sympathy and shouts of support.

“Well, that's bad luck,” Caesar said, surprised again for the second time this interview.

“Yeah. It is.”

“And I wish you all the best of luck.”

You, Haymitch, and Katniss headed towards the elevators, Katniss still silently fuming. Once you pressed the button, Peeta rounded the corner to meet you. Katniss made a beeline for him, pushing him over into a table, knocking over a vase which broke. “What the hell was that?” she demanded.

“Stop it!” Haymitch yelled, standing between them.

“He made me look weak,” she seethed.

“He just did you a favor,” Haymitch countered. “He made you look desirable. Which in your case can’t hurt sweetheart.” Ice rushed through your veins as you realized what Peeta just did to Katniss should she be the one to come out of the games.

You stepped over broken glass, towards Peeta. “C’mon,” you said, gesturing to help him up. He reached up towards you but stopped when he saw blood coming from hi palm. “It’s okay,” you dismissed his concerns about getting you dirty, “we’ll get that bandaged up.”

He took one of your hands with his non-injured one, allowing him to stand up. “We’ll go to the infirmary. See you up there?” Haymitch nodded, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before facing the elevator once more.

You led Peeta down the hall, finding the training room and the infirmary just off of it. “Hello?” you called, expecting someone to be there. You got no reply.

“I don’t think anyone’s here,” Peeta said, still applying pressure to his palm.

“Yea, me too. Why don’t you sit down, I’ll find some gauze and bandages,” you requested, guiding him towards a chair. You then went into one of the back rooms, finding all the supplies you’d need. You grabbed them, walking back out towards Peeta. “Let me see,” you tugged on his hand, squatting down. “So, was that thing about Katniss real?” you asked, dabbing blood away from the wound.

“Yeah,” he said bluntly, seeming to have nothing else to lose. “I used to watch her walk by to school every day.”

“Well, sorry she kind of rejected you,” you laughed. Fortunately he did too.

“Yeah, definitely one of the harsher rejections.”

“Well if it’s any consolation, the sponsors absolutely loved you.”

“Hey, what’s your deal with sponsors?” Peeta asked. You froze, trying not to show it. “I mean you change whenever sponsors are mentioned.”

You huffed. No point in keeping this kid in the dark. “Because the sponsors who saved my life feel… entitled to me. And it’s become this situation where people pay Snow, and in return they get me for the night.”

“Oh…” Peeta said. “I’m sor-”

“Don’t be,” you cut him off. “It’s the price I pay for getting to love Haymitch. If not for him, I’d be long gone by now.”

“Do the people know about you and Haymitch?”

“No, Snow wants me to seem available. Even if we were allowed to be a couple publicly I doubt it’d change much. The Capitol loves to take things from the districts. I suppose my… predicament is also Haymitch’s punishment.”

“Can I ask— and I don’t mean to be rude—” you laughed internally at that. You were pretty sure this kid didn’t have a rude bone in his body. “Why are you with Haymitch? He’s like 15 years older than you and an alcoholic.”

You chuckled a little at the ridiculousness of it. Many others who knew about your relationship had asked you the same. “Because he was there for me my entire games. Even after he was beaten down by the Capitol and cynical about the world, he was there for me, meanwhile I had absolutely no one else. I won my games out of spite… Haymitch has become my only reason to live.” Peeta sat speechless, not sure what to say. “C’mon,” you said, taping down his bandage, “let’s get you to bed.”

You headed upstairs, making small talk as if you hadn’t just poured out your heart to this kid. You made your way into Haymitch’s room where he was laying on the bed, watching a holographic television. “Hey, how’s the kid?”

“He’ll be fine, just sucks he has to go into the arena with a cut open hand,” you said, lying down next to Haymitch. He rolled closer to you, pulling down the neckline of your dress a little, revealing bruises you didn’t cover up with makeup. Your presence had been requested by a Capitol man not long after Katniss’ 11 was announced. As he was using your body he demanded to know how Katniss scored an 11 and when you refused to tell him, he got violent until a couple avoxes that had been in the room had to pry him off of you.

“They’re getting more violent,” Haymitch noted, an edge of anger in his voice. “Y/N this is getting really dangerous.”

“There’s nothing either of us can do about it,” you sighed. “I’m doing this until I’m no longer desirable.”

“You’ll always be desirable to me,” Haymitch murmured, pressing his lips to yours. He rolled more so he was on top of you, sliding his hands down your body.

You placed a firm hand on his chest, pressing against him. Taking the hint Haymitch pulled away from you. “Not right now, I want to wash him off me first.”

“Yeah, of course. Take as much time as you need,” he said, pressing a peck to your lips before getting off of you.

The next morning both you and Haymitch walked Peeta to his tube, Katniss having decided to go with Cinna, the two of them becoming close over the past couple days.

“Remember, run away from the Cornucopia, nothing in there is worth getting killed in the first two minutes,” you advised. “If you join an alliance leave early, remember no one in there is your friend. Only one person comes out.”

Peeta nodded nervously, standing in front of the platform.

“I really do, sincerely hope I get to see you again,” you said, pulling him into a hug.

As you stepped back, Haymitch reached forward, taking Peeta’s hand, shaking it. “We’re going to try our best to help you in there.”

You watched nervously with the other victors as the time counted down. “3… 2… 1.” The tributes ran to the cornucopia. You watched as Peeta ran off into the woods along with two others. As for Katniss she ran towards the cornucopia, stopping only a couple feet in. She looked around, trying to figure out what to do as you internally cursed her for not having a plan.

Fortunately all the career tributes who had weapons were too distracted, slaughtering the others tributes who also went for supplies. Which gave Katniss enough time to decide to grab a backpack further away from the cornucopia than the weapons. She was suddenly knocked to the ground by another fleeing tribute before he was taken down by the girl from District 2 with the knives. She flung another one at Katniss which would’ve hit her in the chest had she not used the backpack as a shield. Taking the knife out of the backpack, she ran for the trees. Fortunately the girl with the knives lost interest in Katniss.

By the time the bloodbath was over there were 11 dead children, and you needed a drink. Seemingly reading your mind, Finnick appeared with a whiskey. “Sorry about your tribute,” you muttered into the drink.

Finnick shrugged sadly. “He was only 12. Didn’t have much of a chance anyways. Just sad that no one volunteered for him.”

“Yeah,” you agreed softly.

“I see your human torches are still alive. Congratulations.”

You chuckled. “Yeah well only one listened to me. Katniss got lucky the other careers didn’t target her as soon as that timer went off.” You looked over at Cashmere, Gloss, Brutus, and Enobaria who were observing their tributes as they officially formed their alliance. Every other tribute had either fled or laid dead, leaving them in control of all the weapons and supplies.

Suddenly, Peeta and the boy from District 3 came out of the woods, hands raised high in surrender. “No Peeta,” you whispered under your breath as Beetee came over to you.

“They’ve formed an alliance,” he commented.

“Yeah one that’ll get them killed as soon as they eliminate their biggest threat: Katniss.”

“I think Byte will prove to be a bit more useful to the careers than yours,” Beetee said in a slightly excited way. “No offense.”

“None taken,” you muttered. It wasn’t uncommon for victors to take pride in their tributes, especially the ones that had a shot at winning. No one wanted to watch the child they had just trained for a week get slaughtered.

“Sorry about your tribute Finnick,” Beetee said. Finnick only hummed a response.

You all watched as Peeta and Byte acquired the careers’ trust. With Byte saying he could rig the explosives to protect their supplies. And Peeta promising that he could help find Katniss. Finnick sucked air through his teeth. “Cold blooded. Say you’re in love with the girl from your district only to create an alliance to hunt her down.”

“Unless he’s slitting all their throats in their sleep, they’re going to kill him the first chance they get,” you said.

Suddenly peacekeepers entered the room, making a beeline for you and Finnick. Seeing the threat, Haymitch was immediately by your side, wrapping a protective arm around your waist.

“Finnick Odair,” you silently breathed a sigh of relief, “your presence is requested.” Finnick huffed, used to the drill, before handing you his drink and begrudgingly heading off with them.

“Glad it wasn’t you. I don’t think your body could handle it,” Haymitch muttered against your hair in relief, referring to the wounded state you had been returning to him in.

Part II | Masterlist | Part IV

#haymitch #haymitch x reader #haymitch abernathy #haymitch abernathy x reader #thg #the hunger games #the hunger games x reader #capitol punishment

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