74th hg

anonymous asked:

I want to make your list of prompts even longer, so here we go: Haymitch and Effie are at a party and are already planning to have sex afterwards but when they get back to the Penthouse, they are both really tired and not in the mood, so they just go to bed together to sleep. And it just kind of happens, although it's a big step in their "realtionship". I hope you consider writing it. Thank you in advance!

Hello! I’m going to post the details for the hayffie christmas week tomorrow so keep an eye out! [X]

A Long Night

The sky was turning pinkish when the car lined up in front of the Training Center and Haymitch stopped nuzzling Effie’s neck almost with relief. Her fingers were lazily squeezing him through his pants but they withdrew quickly too. She flashed him a teasing smile as she opened the door and he forced himself to smirk back.

They had been flirting all night when they weren’t hunting for sponsors and it had been implied that sexy times would wait for them at the end of the night. Thing was, the party had gone on forever, long enough in any case for him to actually sober up from his tipsy state – he had promised Peeta he would keep the drinking to a minimum and, for once, sponsors were taking the bait so he actually as holding up his end of the bargain – he was so tired he didn’t think he could get it up that night. Still, there was a matter of pride there.

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Oookay, here you have a massive hayffie Christmas story so I hope you like it because it’s long and it required a lot of work. It’s a little Effie!centric maybe but… Well. ^^

Please if you read and like, do let me know what you think, I need love right now ^^.(and don’t mind the tags it’s part of my classification project)

Merry Christmas! [X] & [X]

Wishing On A Golden Star


At eight years old, Effie’s favorite holiday was Christmas.

She loved it more than she loved Halloween or the Games season. The Capitol was dressed for the occasion, the city was always full of blinding twinkling lights and of so many colors it sometimes made her little head spin. She loved the huge tree that seemed to reach the sky on Main Square, she loved the daily Christmas parade in the City Circle, she loved the songs, she loved how joyful people looked when they dashed in and out of stores with their arms full of presents for their loved ones…

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So if you follow me on tumblr, you might have seen this crack idea I had about tattoos and such and… Well I wrote it. The drawing of the tattoo can be found at the end ;) This one is very long and I don’t have as much time for prompts as I would like so this will count for today and tomorrow ;) Enjoy! [X]

6 times people found out about Haymitch’s tattoo and one time he finds out about someone else’s instead


Haymitch woke up to the annoying sound of a spoon clicking against faience.

He forced an eye open – happy already not to have startled awake for once – his head pounding with a particularly nasty headache. He wasn’t exactly surprised to find his escort sitting in an armchair, stirring her coffee, a glossy magazine on her lap.

“Good night, was it?” she hummed.

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anonymous asked:

I saw a text post a while back about how people say "I love you" in different ways, for example, "text me whn you get home" or "make sure you get enough sleep tonight", etc. I don't imagine haymitch would actually tell Effie he loves her a lot (particularly before the war when it would have likely been dangerous) so could you please do a fic of a couple of incidents where haymitch told Effie he loved her without actually saying "I love you"

I will be very, very honest, this one grew and escaped all control so it is very long. I’m not sure how great it is but… I did my best. Also warning for the occasional steam/smut and canonical violence toward the end.[X]

5 Times Haymitch said « I love you » without saying so and one time Effie did


“What’s up with you tonight, love?” Chaff asked.

Effie was so rattled she almost shrugged.

“She’s miffed ‘cause her sister is out there playing queen of bees.” Haymitch snorted, tilting his glass in the direction of Lyssa who was, admittedly, holding court in the midst of a few escorts and victors. It was difficult to say what they where drooling after : her body or her money.

“Don’t be preposterous.” she chided him.

“Ah, the prettiest sister who’s so much better than Trinket?” Mason piped, appearing behind them as if summoned by the simple prospect of making Effie’s life a living hell. “Not that it’s hard, mind you. I need to see this for myself. Which one is it?”

Effie waved her fan angrily, stealing Haymitch’s glass and taking a long sip. She knew she should have gone to another party.

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anonymous asked:

Prompt: (Hah you probably aren't gonna do this but its worth a shot because your work is amazing and I'm desperate enough to try. )4-5 times effie wants to say 'I love you' to haymitch but he stops her everytime because he tells her its not safe and it isn't until after mockingjay when they reunite in district 12 where they hug tightly and both finally say it to each other. (I just really love your writing, so I wanted to suggest something :D )

Here you go! I loved that prompt thank you! [X]

It’s a bit long sorry for people on mobile

Better Than Liquor


At the end of the 71st Hunger Games victory party, Effie was almost in tears by the time she and Haymitch regained the penthouse. Effie couldn’t remember when she had last laughed that much – or seen Haymitch actually smirk so hard – that her sides hurt.

“Did you see her face?” Effie cackled, recalling again the look of pure horror on Viola’s face when he had not so accidentally spilled his tall glass of whiskey on her dress. It served her right, she had spent the night demining Twelve, its mentor and its escort. Of course, the best part had been Chaff’s leg stretched out not so accidentally either when Viola had tried to rush out of the room to save her dress. Effie shouldn’t have been laughing at her fall, it wasn’t nice at all and the whole thing was very immature. And yet she was still in stitches.

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“I watch him as he makes his way toward the stage. Medium height, stocky build, ashy blond hair that falls in waves over his forehead. The shock of the moment is registering on his face, you can see his struggle to remain emotionless, but his blue eyes show the alarm I’ve seen so often in prey. Yet he climbs easily onto the stage and takes his place.”


“You know what my mother said to me when she came to say good-bye, as if to cheer me up, she says maybe District 12 will finally have a winner. Then I realized, she didn’t mean me, she meant you!” bursts out Peeta.
“Oh, she meant you,” I say with a wave of dismissal.
“She said, ‘She’s a survivor, that one.’ She is,” says Peeta.


“You really wanna know how to stay alive? You get people to like you. Oh! Not what you were expecting? Well, when you’re in the middle of the games, and you’re starving or freezing, some water, a knife, or even some matches can mean the difference between life and death. And those things only come from sponsors, and to get sponsors, you have to make people like you. And right now, sweetheart, you’re not off to a real good start.”


I poke around in the pile, about to settle on some cod chowder, when Peeta holds out a can to me. “Here.”
I take it, not knowing what to expect. The label reads lamb stew. 
I press my lips together at the memories of rain dripping through stones, my inept attempts at flirting, and the aroma of my favorite Capitol dish in the chilly air. Some part of it must still be in his head, too. How happy, how hungry, how close we were when that picnic basket arrived outside our cave. “Thanks.” I pop open the top. “It even has dried plums.” I bend the lid and use it as a makeshift spoon, scooping a bit into my mouth. Now this place tastes like the arena, too.


“I need to get down, to get going, but for a moment I lie there, digesting what I’ve heard. Not only is Peeta with the Careers, he’s helping them find me. The simpleminded girl who has to be taken seriously because of her eleven. Because she can use a bow and arrow. Which Peeta knows better than anyone.”


I feel around for the parachute and slide my fingers inside until they close around the pearl. I sit back on my bed cross-legged and find myself rubbing the smooth iridescent surface of the pearl back and forth against my lips. For some reason, it’s soothing. A cool kiss from the giver himself.