The Pink Rose - Part 8

The Pink Rose - Part 8

Part Eight- July 15th, 74 ADD

Masterlist

Pairing: Haymitch Abernathy x reader 

Word count: 3,019

Warnings: televised death, hetero relationship, cuddles, dirty talk, piv sex, trauma response, panic attack, memory of assault

Katniss and Peeta had been in the arena for four days now. That they had made it four days astounded many and made it that much easier for Haymitch and [Y/n] to drive any doubt the sponsors had away. The only problem left was that Peeta and Katniss didn’t stick together. [Y/n] couldn’t understand it. First Peeta had declared his feelings for Katniss on a Panem-wide broadcast and then he joined the very group of careers who wanted to kill Katniss.

“There’s only one winner,” Haymitch had said to her on more than one occasion. It still didn’t make sense.

[Y/n] and Haymitch had a scheduled lunch soiree with several of their current and potential sponsors. Due to this, Effie allowed them to skip a public breakfast and just keep up with the Games from the comfort of the District 12 penthouse. [Y/n] was grateful for this brief break from schmoozing with the very people she despised- the Capitol Elite. 

Her body was so used to waking up early, she physically could not stay asleep no matter how much she wanted to. She put on a robe and slippers over her small nightgown. At the end of the hall, she stopped when she heard the voice of Caesar Flickerman giving an update on the previous days highlights. She then noticed Haymitch’s salt and pepper curls sticking out above the couch. She walked over and plopped down next to him before cuddling into his side and resting her head on his shoulder.

“Mornin’ Sweetheart,” he said before kissing the top of her head. His gaze never left the screen. 

Noticing his seriousness, [Y/n] sat up and followed his eyes, “Did something happen?”

“Not yet. Peeta and the Careers are camped out under the tree Katniss climbed. Peeta convinced them to ‘wait it out’ instead of them tryin’ to shoot her,”

“Shoot her?”

“Yeah, that District 1 girl has the bow and arrow,”

Oh. The weapon that would’ve benefitted Katniss was a tree height away and she couldn’t get it. The camera suddenly cut from the Careers to a little girl who had climbed up a tree adjacent to where Katniss was beginning to stir. The young girl- Rue- was only 12 years old and from District 11. The odds were completely out of her favor. [Y/n] wondered whose idea it was for Rue to get close to Katniss. Rue was the same age as Primrose and that was bound to be a weakness for Katniss. [Y/n]’s mind began to wander until she heard Caesar say “tracker jackers”. [Y/n] and Haymitch now watched intently as Katniss evaluated the hive of lethal, genetically engineered wasps. If Katniss were stung, she would experience intense hallucinations; or if stung enough she would not survive the encounter.

“What the hell is she doing?” Haymitch said with an elevated voice and slight tone of concern.

“Oh hell… is she- she’s gonna drop it on them!” [Y/n] didn’t know why she panicked, but she knew Haymitch saw this as a stupid risk where Katniss could be stung too.

Sure enough, as Katniss used her knife to saw the tree limb, the tracker jackers became aware of her and emerged from the hive. One found her leg first, another her neck, a few more her hands. Finally, the limb dropped and crashed to the ground in the middle of the camp where Peeta and the Careers slept. Katniss already looked out of sorts and the group below screamed in terror at the tracker jacker attack. They completely abandoned their site, forgetting their belongings and forgetting Katniss to run for the water. The camera tried to get a glimpse of everyone before a cannon sounded- and then a second one. The female tribute from District 4 had been stung too many times. The second cannon was the female from District 1- the girl with the bow and arrows. [Y/n] and Haymitch were stunned to silence. In a few short minutes, Katniss indirectly caused the death of two other tributes and managed to evade the others trying to kill her.

“Well… not what I expected to see before breakfast,” [Y/n] said quietly.

Haymitch put his arm around her shoulders and said, “It’s not over; let’s see what else she does,”

Katniss stumbled down the tree, almost falling about halfway down. Her torn pants displayed the large purple welt on on her knee that had started to ooze a green tinted pus. The District 1 girl was swollen beyond recognition from head to toe by the time Katniss got to her. Using all the strength she could muster, Katniss ripped the bow and arrows off the girl’s lifeless body. Katniss’ face contorted into something of fear- she was undoubtedly hallucinating.

“Poor kid; I don’t envy whatever she’s seeing,” Haymitch mused sadly. 

Suddenly, a noise came from the nearby brush and out jumped Peeta with a spear. 

“Shit,” [Y/n] said with a flat tone.

“Katniss! What are you still doing here?” Peeta hissed at her- he began to prod her with the handle of the spear, “Are you crazy? Get up! Get up!” he began to yell at her, “Run! Run!”

Katniss was absolutely hallucinating. Peeta finally got her up and shoved her forward to get her moving. He was trying to save her from the returning Careers.

Haymitch threw his hands in the air as he and [Y/n] watched Peeta shove Katniss away into the brush. Katniss stumbled into the plants and down the nearby slope before passing out. Her body was still except for the rise and fall of her chest. After a moment of stunned silence that no doubt resonated across Panem, Rue entered the screen. She tiptoed to Katniss’ body as she looked around for anyone else. 

Rue used all of the strength her body could muster and dragged Katniss into a hidden area, “Don’t worry, I’ve got you,”

*  *  *  *  *

“So, how do you feel about Miss Everdeen’s newest ally?” Plutarch asked as he poured himself a cup of tea.

“Well, she’s an interesting choice that’s for sure,” Haymitch said before plucking a finger sandwich into his mouth. 

“I think what Haymitch means to say is that we never discussed the possibility of Rue or Thresh as allies because we were busy prepping them to go into the arena,” [Y/n] interjected.

Plutarch chuckled, “Districts 11 and 12 have historically been allies given how poorly they’re treated. Even after Rue made the salve for Katniss’ stings and Katniss shared her burn medicine, one would imagine they’d had some sort of conversation,”

“What’s your point?” Haymitch asked with suspicion. 

“Why do you think dialogue between Katniss and Rue was never aired?” Plutarch challenged. 

[Y/n] studied her nail as she thought about it, “They were talking about home, they were discussing their struggles,” she said without looking up.

“Precisely,” Plutarch nodded, “Now, we know better than most what goes on in other districts and I know what the tributes discuss when they take a moment to sit down,”

[Y/n] and Haymitch nodded as they tried to recall conversations they’d had with other tributes in the arena.

“So again, what’s your point?” Haymitch asked, voice laced with suspicion.

Plutarch chuckled, “Mr. Abernathy, Ms. Bellwood, how much have you heard about the resistance going against the Capitol?”

“Only that it exists- I might know a few, but not what they’re up to,” Haymitch said.

[Y/n] took a deep breath, “They operate quietly out of… well…”

Plutarch and Haymitch looked at [Y/n] while she contemplated what to say next. Had she said too much? She let this information slip and she didn’t even know if she could trust Plutarch. He was a Gamemaker- how could he be considered trustworthy at all? When it seemed as if [Y/n] wouldn’t say anything more, Haymitch placed his hand on her knee to comfort her. 

“I understand your hesitance Ms. Bellwood; you’ve been burdened with knowledge that shouldn’t have been shared with you,” Plutarch said, “But you’re not wrong, the resistance is alive. And it’s looking to build. It’s currently in adolescence, but it needs to grow up- and fast,”

Haymitch’s hand gripped [Y/n]’s knee harder; concern had him on edge and it radiated out of his hand “What happened to make you approach us?” he asked with suspicion.

“The Girl on Fire has sparked some controversy in the outlying districts. Her strength resounds and the sparks just need some oxygen to turn into flames,” 

[Y/n] sighed and chuckled softly, “You’ve really taken a shine to the fire angle,”

Plutarch smiled, “You wouldn’t be the only Victors involved; or people involved in the Games directly,” he pulled a small copper plate from his pocket, “Don’t lose this,”

He squeezed each side of the plate and a small camera opened on one side; he started the camera and looked into it saying, “The Capitol is a dictatorial plague and I am for the resistance,”

Plutarch squeezed the sides again and handed it to Haymitch, “Press the button on the back,”

Haymitch did as he was told and a small image of Plutarch projected from the camera and played back what he had said to it. 

“I hope that convinces you enough- I’m giving you this in good faith and wholeheartedly ask that you don’t lose it,” he smiled grimly.

[Y/n] placed a hand on the table and looked at him, “I appreciate you coming to us for this; we’ll discuss and get back to you tomorrow?”

Plutarch nodded in agreement, “Thank you for joining me, and don’t worry, President Snow doesn’t have cameras in here. One of the perks of being me,” as he walked about, he stopped at the door and half turned towards them, “Ms. Trinket was right- you two are a handsome couple,” he left them in stunned silence.

“Handsome. Couple. Effie said that?” Haymitch asked aloud.

[Y/n] kissed his scruffy cheek, “You know she’s an emotional romantic,”

Back at the penthouse, the District 12 crew watch the end of day summary for the Games. Haymitch and Cinna marveled over Katniss’ use of the tracker jackers, while Effie and Portia pondered Peeta’s decision to join the careers and what that would do for his image. [Y/n] picked at her food and pondered the conversation she’d had with Haymitch and Plutarch. Was she supposed to tell Haymitch how much she already knew? Should she introduce him to her contacts. Why didn’t she already know about Plutarch’s involvement?

Standing up, she drew the attention of the table, “I’m going to bed, I have an early start tomorrow,”

The group wished her goodnight; everyone but Haymitch who sensed she wasn’t being completely honest. Once the dinner ended, he made his way [Y/n]’s door and knocked softly.

“Come in,”

“I thought you had to wake early tomorrow?” he smiled

“Well why did you come to my room then?” [Y/n] snapped playfully.

Haymitch walked up and wrapped his arms around her midsection. [Y/n] smiled softly at the goosebumps that rose at the touch of his warm skin. She watched the content look on his face in the mirror as she gazed into the glass.

“Who was winning the staring match before I interrupted?”

[Y/n] scoffed with a smile, “Probably my reflection,”

Her cheeks flushed as she studied Haymitch’s strong arms around her. 

“What’s so funny?” he asked at the sight of her smile

“Oh nothing,” she sighed before slowly pressing her rear backwards and moving it side to side.

A quiet groan came from his throat, “Tell me,” he whispered, “What do you want?”

“I want you to make me feel like you did the morning of Reaping Day,”

“You mean the part before Effie interrupted us?”

“Yes- but don’t be so gentle,”

“Oh?” he said with a small grin. Haymitch put one hand on [Y/n]’s waist turned her around and pushed her against the wall, “Define: not gentle,” He ducked his head down, leaving trails of warm kisses up and down her neck.

[Y/n] bit her lip before letting out a soft sigh, “I want- mmmm,” Haymitch began kneading her chest, “Haymitch- I want you to fuck me, like you’ll never see me again,”

He moved his hands up and placed one on each side of her face, bringing her to him. This kiss was different than others; it was filled with want and need. Appreciation mixed with desire and intention spread about them. He parted their lips by mere millimeters and whispered into her mouth, “Let me know if I cross a line Sweetheart, it’s about you this time,”

[Y/n] melted as her smile kissed him again. Their lips and tongues danced together as she pulled Haymitch closer. He moaned into her mouth and trailed his hands down her body, leaving a line of heat. He lifted the skirt of her dress until it was bunched up at her hips. [Y/n] moaned into his mouth as he used his fingers to run warm circles between her legs. She could feel how wet her lace underwear was.

“Haymitch, I need your cock inside me,” her hips ground into his fingers before she jerked away to remove her underwear. As soon as she did, Haymitch had already removed his pants and briefs. He grabbed [Y/n]’s rear and lifted her so she could wrap her legs around his waist. He used the wall and one hand to hold her up and the other to aim his tip towards her entrance. 

He looked into her eyes, “Are you ready?”

“I’ve been ready,” she smiled mischeiviously. 

He slowly lowered her down until he was fully sheathed inside her. They softly moaned simultaneously. He put his other hand back to her rear and carried her across the room. He laid her down on the bed, carefully so not to remove himself completely. Once they were both lowered, he moved his hips back and forth; starting slow but gradually building speed and force. 

“Goddammit Sweetheart,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Oh my days!” her back arched up and Haymitch’s name softly emerged from her lips.

Both of them mildly concentrating on not being too loud, a symphony of quiet moans, sighs, and ‘I love you’s’ passed between them as their bodies entwined. Haymitch could feel [Y/n] tightening around him and took that as a sign to keep up what he was doing. He felt himself reach the edge of his ability to contain himself. Trying to keep himself together for her, Haymitch placed one hand on her shoulder and stroked the front of her neck with his thumb, “I needed this,” he groaned softly.

Those three words. [Y/n] felt the blood drain from her face and a knot formed in her throat. She gasped and shoved Haymitch off her before nearly jumping from the bed. Haymitch stayed frozen on the bed, utterly confused at what had just happened. Heart dropping to his stomach, he reached towards her- hovering inches from her back, he recognized the reaction. It was too similar to what happened when she awoke from nightmares of the Games. The Games he understood, but this was different. This was something else completely. [Y/n]’s hair parted over her shoulders with the movement of her sobs. Haymitch suddenly noticed a raised edge at her hairline. He couldn’t figure out how he’d never noticed it, but suspected alcohol had a hand in that. Looking closer, he realized that the raised edge was a healed scar shaped like the letter P.

[Y/n] sat on the floor and continued sobbing quietly. Haymitch held out the blanket and she quickly wrapped herself in it. Haymitch put his briefs back on and sat cross-legged and at arms length. He placed his hands on the floor palms up and watched her with a pained expression on his face. He breathed deeply through his nose and out his mouth, creating an audible rhythm for [Y/n] to hear.

[Y/n] kept hearing the phrase in her head over and over again. I needed this. I needed this. I needed this. She replayed the memory of a pair of hands stroking her neck and pinning her down. Shaking and unable to breathe, she tried to focus on Haymitch’s breaths. Her heart pounded in her ears and it took all the strength she had left to change her breathing pattern in an attempt to match Haymitch. Barely moving her gaze, she saw his hands between them. She reached her trembling hands out and gently placed them on his. Haymitch didn’t move, but continued to watch her with worry building inside him.

They sat for several minutes, hands touching and bodies moving only with each inhale and exhale. With her brain almost clear enough to put a simple thought together, she closed her hands around Haymitch’s fingers.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Sweetheart… [Y/n]... I don’t know what you’re sorry for,” he cleared his throat softly, “But I have a feeling it’s not a bit your fault,”

[Y/n] crawled forward and curled up in his lap. She leaned into his chest and he felt her tears slowly drip down his body, “Can I hold you?”

“Yes,” whispered softly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

She nodded her head ‘no’.

“Do you need to talk about it?”

“Not now,”

“I’m here, Sweetheart. I’m here for you,” Haymitch slowly rocked their bodies back and forth. He kept his body still, soft, and calm. As a Hunger Games Victor, he recognized a response to trauma like a star recognized the sky. He and [Y/n] had taken turns calming each other after nightmares for years. Liquor kept him calm and warm now and for years before her. But this was different. This wasn’t a flashback to the same singular death-defying moment. This was… something repetitive.

He lifted his chin so she wouldn’t feel his jaw clench as rage flashed across his face: Who hurt her?

Masterlist