Prompt : Possesive Haymitch or Effie are always a delight to read.
Do one with Haymitch, I think Effie looks hot on one picture with the glasses and everything. I see Haymitch getting a little bit jealous cause Effie make her way through 13 with the clothes she "FIX" for her and some soldiers and distric people finds her distractingly atractive, cause you know they have never seen someone liek her. While other might hate ehr, she earns some admires herself xD. Can that work?
Fair warning, it got steamy.
The Reminder
"Wonderful!" Effie clapped her hands in delight at Plutarch's suggestion that they used fisher nets as decoration for the wedding.
Haymitch watched her from the other side of the table, shaking his head at her stupidity. Who cared about wedding decorations when they were in the middle of a rebellion? he wondered, going back to the report he had been reading before the former escort and Gamemaker invaded the room. He was happy for Finnick and Annie, of course, and he understood why Plutarch wanted to make a big thing out of it but… still. There were more urgent matters.
Effie and Plutarch's chatter became more high-pitched as they grew more excited over what to do and not to do, their Capitol accent was almost unbearable. Haymitch grew more sullen. He was yearning for a drink which, in turn, made him crave something else. He didn't know how Effie had managed it but her outfit looked like a sort of large tunic that day, it barely reached her woolen clad mid-thighs and kept slipping over one of her shoulder, revealing tantalizing creamy skin. His eyes kept straying to the grey strap of her bra but she didn't seem to notice. She wasn't paying him much attention anyway.
Plutarch wasn't as oblivious as she was, though. When she leaned over a sheet of paper to show him something, the Gamemaker's eyes drifted south.
Haymitch cleared his throat loudly, doubting very much Plutarch was looking at anything other than her cleavage. The Capitol man had the good sense to look ashamed, glancing at him before straightening up and going back to business. Effie remained unaware. At least, he thought she was.
It went on in that fashion for several more minutes : Haymitch pretending to read but sneaking glances at her, the Capitols getting in a frenzy of preparations…
"Oh, we need foliage to decorate the room." she declared. "Where can I find that?"
"I would be happy to show you, Miss." one of the young soldiers offered at once.
He belonged to the small group that always seemed to follow her around like overzealous puppies. Young, Haymitch figured, barely eighteen.
And obviously very enamored with her.
And why wouldn't he? District 13 citizens had been taught to hate and fear Capitols but Effie didn't exactly look the part of the Capitol woman anymore, she looked more like a hybrid between District and Capitol. There certainly was no other woman like her in the District. She showed more skin, she was naturally more elegant, she was always careful to look her best…
Sure, a lot of people found her peculiar and hated her for it but others…
"Oh, thank you, Gareth, that would be delightful." Effie flashed the young man a bright smile and placed a lingering hand on his arm.
Such a flirt, Haymitch thought.
He watched her disappear from the room, the young soldier's hand resting shyly but boldly at the small of her back to guide her, and he scoffed in annoyance.
He ignored Plutarch's pointed question and hid his irritation.
When he slammed shut the sliding door of her compartment later, during reflection, she barely lifted an eyebrow.
"Did you have fun earlier?" he growled.
The smug grin on her lips was an admission of guilt in his book. She neatly put her needles away and rose from the chair to prop a hip against the table where a lot of grey fabric was scattered. She was probably trying to customize another outfit.
"I don't have the slightest idea what you are talking about, Haymitch." she lied, faking an innocence that had no place on her face.
He leaned against the door and folded his arms, knowing it was probably the last thing she wanted. "I don't like it when men paw at you."
"I know." she grinned.
"Then why are you flirting with them?" he spat. "Trying to get a rise out of me? Dangerous game you're playing, sweetheart."
"Is it?" She lifted her eyebrows and sat on the edge of the table, legs crossed. The tunic rode so high it didn't cover much.
His mouth was suddenly very dry. "What's next? You're going to walk around bare ass?"
"Who says I'm not already doing that?" she challenged.
It was ludicrous but the idea that she could have been strutting around him all day without underwear was… It elicited a primitive growl from the very deep of his throat.
"Careful, Princess." he warned her.
"I don't want careful tonight, Haymitch." she replied, kicking off her heels. "I very much want you, though."
He didn't know how he went from leaning against the door to kissing her but he lost no time in flinging her sewing stuff away from the table. She seemed about to protest for a second yet when he pinned her to the cold metal and started nibbling on her neck, the only sound to leave her mouth was a soft whimper.
He tortured the skin at the hollow of her throat with his teeth, making sure it would leave a mark she would have trouble hiding. Fuck this, he thought, some people should think twice before looking at her the way they did, as if she was free for the taking. She wasn't.
"You're mine." he urgently whispered against her skin, tearing at her clothes.
It didn't take him long to discover she wasn't bluffing. She truly had nothing on under her woolen tights. It drove him crazy.
"Mine." he breathed over her stomach, kissing and biting in turn.
She was practically purring when she forced the ugly sweater, the shirt and the undershirt over his head at the same time.
"I'm not yours." she denied but she changed her tune quickly enough once he stopped playing to really have his way with her. He knew her by heart, he knew how to make her body respond, making her beg was easy, making her say she belonged to him was music to his ears.
She was a rag-doll by the time he was done with her and he wasn't in a much better state. He carried her from the table to her bed, it was a short distance but it still left him panting for breath. She snuggled against him with a pleased sigh, wrapping the blankets tightly around them until they were safely enclosed in a warm cocoon.
"You get a kick out of making me jealous." he commented, playing absent-mindedly with her hair.
"I think you need the reminder sometimes." she declared, pressing a kiss on the side of his neck. "You take me for granted lately."
"I've never taken anything for granted in my life." he snorted. "Certainly not people I care about." She lifted her head in surprise at that last piece of information. He didn't see why she was taken aback. He had never professed any feelings for her but they were friends of sorts, caring about her was the least he could do and certainly not the whole extent of his feelings. He kept the rest for himself. He wasn't ready yet. "I thought it was one of the perks, you know…" he continued, coiling a strand of strawberry blond hair around his finger and letting it bounce back in place. "If you're with someone, you don't have to worry about them going off with someone else."
There was a long silence.
"Are we… together?" she asked.
The question seemed loaded somehow. It was another thing they had never discussed, he supposed.
"I brought you to Thirteen." he shrugged.
"To take care of Katniss." she argued.
"Yeah." he agreed readily enough. "And because the idea of leaving you behind was…" He shrugged again. He didn't know what it was precisely, just that it had left him hollow and angry for a whole week until he had said fuck it and told Plutarch she was to be brought to Thirteen with full immunity.
"Would that be because I'm a convenient way for you to have sex or because it runs deeper than that?" she insisted, propping her chin on his shoulder to look at him.
"Don't be stupid." he spat. "If you were just convenient I wouldn't care what you do with other men."
He pulled her onto him – which was the best way to fit on those narrow beds anyway – and held her tight. He had never considered himself a jealous man before but with her… He was possessive. Perhaps because he was afraid of losing her so much.
She settled on his chest, making sure the blankets were still covering them, before pressing a kiss on his lips.
"You're really not a romantic man." she chuckled.
"If you want romance go see your soldier." he mumbled. "Younger than that and you will have problems with the law, sweetheart."
"Now who's being stupid?" She clicked her tongue in amusement. "I like my men mature, as you well know."
"Plutarch is mature enough." he retorted, still irritated. "And he seems to like looking down your shirt."
"Ah." she frowned. "That wasn't on purpose."
He carefully retraced the lovebites on her neck with the tips of his fingers. "I don't think it will happen again."
"Why? Because you branded me for everyone to see?" she deadpanned, an amused grin tugging at her lips. "It takes a lot more to discourage men, you know."
"How about my fist in their face?" he suggested, rolling his eyes.
"How about we just… say we're not single if the question arises." She was hesitant.
He brushed his fingers against her jaw up until her cheekbone.
He thought hard about it. There were risks in saying yes and there were other risks in saying no.
"Alright." he gave in at last, a bit reluctant.
Her whole body relaxed, he hadn't noticed how tensed she had become.
"Alright." she agreed with a stupid smile. She kissed him then and it was an odd kiss. He wasn't sure they had kissed in happiness before – or, at least, not about something happy that was concerning them. "See…" she sounded triumphant. " You do need the reminder sometimes."