#mj time

You know I HAD to do it. It’s too good to resist for long XD The title comes from the song “You” by Keaton Henson that kept popping up when I was writing it.

My Life’s Best Part

Effie’s staring at him, dumfounded, and Haymitch can’t help but think he should have listened to Chaff and not waited until the last moment to unload everything on her. But even now that he’s told her, he still doesn’t think it’s a good idea to tell her anything at all. He still doesn’t think…

“I wouldn’t have told you any of it.” he adds with a wince, turning away from her and crossing the short distance to the roof’s hip-high wall. They waited until the children came back down to sneak up there, to have their own moment – a moment that isn’t about desperately fucking each other in her room, too aware that it probably will be the last time. The roof is quiet outside of the distant clicking of the wind chimes she hang there a couple of years ago, the rush of the city spreading at their feet has long become background noise he barely even registers anymore. “If I had a choice I wouldn’t have told you any of it.”

None of the rebellion. None of the plan. None of it.

Ties

Effie stared at her reflection in the gilded framed mirror hanging above her bathroom sink, trying to ignore the small cracks in the upper right corner. They had fixed as much in her apartment as they had been able to in the last few weeks, in between preparing for Katniss’ trial, but there was still a lot of work to do. Work, she was certain, they wouldn’t have time to do.

Her face was marked with lines at the corner of her eyes and her mouth. She blamed the months in Thirteen without proper skin care. Or maybe she should just blame the perpetual stress she had been in.

It still felt surreal some mornings, to be back in the city.

Comes from a grey’s anatomy prompt list, probably ? Also, this is named Chasing Cars because the song fits it too well ahah. It’s a grey’s classic.

Chasing Cars

He had known.

It had hit him the moment he had stepped out of that court room, his ears still ringing from the judge’s sentence, Plutarch’s agitated chatter making it impossible for him to focus on anything else but the harsh reality of what was going to happen. What he had volunteered for. A trap, clearly. Designed for him just as much as for the Mockingjay.

Sent the embarrassingly crazy girl-hero away, out of sight out of mind.

Ger rid of the mentor who was trying to meddle in politics by the same occasion.

The second Aster Everdeen had given up, his own fate had been sealed.

But it wasn’t until that moment, that moment when he had stepped out and the pale winter sun had hit him in the safe, that he had known just what he had lost.

Let’s all thank the anon for the cheery prompt, shall we? XD Well, obviously trigger warning for MC death. One more to add to the collection of dead Haymitch or Effie. Next time I say I never kill them off you can call me a liar ;)

Living Without A Heartbeat

Haymitch strode down the hospital’s corridors wondering if he would ever manage to get away from that part of Thirteen.

At this very moment, it didn’t seem likely.

He had spent half the night in a long useless briefing with Peeta’s doctors and it seemed clear that, for now, there were more questions than answers about the boy’s state. He had briefly visited Annie to check she was alright – which she seemed to be given that she and Finnick had barely stopped kissing long enough to greet him – and then had sat at Katniss’ bedside until the young hours of morning when the doctors had finally figured out the involvement of tracker-jacker venom and had called another long meeting to talk Peeta’s condition over. At that point, Portia and the boy’s prep team had been executed and he had watched with Plutarch from a screen in one of the doctors’ office, dreading who they would kill next.

But Effie hadn’t been dragged on that platform to be shot and he had forced himself to keep working and to stop obsessing over her. She hadn’t been in the cells with the victors, that had to be a good thing.

Always The Bloody Hawthornes!

Effie was so exasperated that she tossed her arms in the air in frustration, pacing the limited available space in the tiny compartment Thirteen had allotted her. “Oh – You are lying!”

Haymitch let out another sigh, clearly frustrated himself, but didn’t move from where he was sitting at the small table, burying his face in his hands. “Effie…”

“I know you are lying.” she snapped, not bothering to pause to listen to his claims that nothing had happened and nothing would happen and it was all in her head – how cliché. It only fed her fury. How fucking cliché. “You know how I know? Because you are a bad liar.”

A glint of offense shone in his eyes when he dropped his hands to glare at her. “Ain’t that bad of a liar or we wouldn’t be here fighting over shit, we’d be dead in the Capitol.”

“Oh, of course, that would be what you deem worthy of an answer.” she sneered, pausing her pacing to face him. He had the decency to squirm under her glare, at least, to wince… “Go for it, I dare you. Tell me again how I misunderstood the situation.”

 All He Has Left

After they dropped Plutarch in Three, Katniss spends the rest of the trip pretending to sleep and Haymitch humors her just because he is in no shape to have a conversation. Not to mention the fact that any conversation they might have right then would have to be an emotionally charged one. They haven’t talked about Snow or Coin or anything serious and he doubts they ever will. It’s not their style.

No, he figures, watching her twitch when he stares at her too long. She must feels his gaze on her and, he knows from experience, it’s hard to pretend to sleep when someone is staring at you. No, their style is more to fake sleep to avoid talking. Anything not to have the difficult conversations. Anything to avoid facing their feelings.

He takes a sip from his flask and relocates his gaze to the small round window, absolutely uninterested by the clouds or the landscape underneath.

He feels restless but he doesn’t have the will to stand up and stretch his legs.

5 Times Haymitch Wore Panties And 1 Time Effie Wore Boxers

1.

Haymitch was just closing his bedroom door for the night, having made the decision to retire early – to escape the desperate eyes of the tributes as much as because there was a perfectly good bottle of hard liquor calling his name – when a woman swiftly slipped in before he could close the door all the way.

“Please, come in, sweetheart.” he taunted with a heavy dose of sarcasm that fell on deaf ears.

Effie simply grinned at him, sauntering all the way to the bed like a proud peacock. She was still wearing that ugly puffy blue dress, the pink wig and the clownish make-up. She stood at the side of his unmade bed for a second, calculating no doubt how long he had been in the city so far and how dirty it could actually be, before tossing the sheets and comforter back up and sitting on top of them. Then she looked up at him, her grin turning into an impatient impish thing, her blue eyes sparkling in delight.

“Show me.” she ordered.

Prompt: Hi Ellana! I Love your stories. If you have time and still are reciving prompts for HADS I will Love to read one about Effie's pov when she makes love with Haymitch. Thank you!