Prompt: I think I came up with a prompt and I think you haven't done it before. I checked the tags. Effie and Haymitch have to go to a photoshoot together to promote D12 and Haymitch is naturally annoyed but Effie is excited and then the photographer wants them in close poses. I imagined it to be in the early years. I so hope you'll do it. Thank you, thank you.

AND

Prompt: Have you seen EB's post on Instagram? Can you write something for HADS where Effie doesn't know where to put her hands (on Haymitch) during a photo session? I think it could work but you are the writer and a genius, so it's up to you.

It's Hard To Be A Star

"Oh, would you stop sulking!" she chided him as Haymitch sighed, dragging his feet behind her. "Every year, it is the same story with you."

Every District team had to sit through an official photoshoot every year. It was traditional and it was supposed to be fun. The individual photoshoots were by far what she loved best. She loved to pose and the photographers were always happy with her. It reminded her of her modeling days.

The shooting studio was large but the schedule was tight. They passed by Eleven's team on their way in. She ignored Viola, exchanged a warm good morning with Seeder and rolled her eyes when Chaff and Haymitch looked at each other as if the whole process was a burden.

"Some people would kill to be there, Haymitch." she reminded him.

He looked at her as if she had grown a second head.

"Capitols." he spat. In his mouth, it was always an insult.

She fought the urge to roll her eyes again. She had been working with Haymitch for three years now and she was half of a mind to ask for a raise. She had been warned he was difficult but difficult didn't cover it. He was impossible. When he was not drinking himself into a stupor, he insisted on behaving like a child she had to scold on a permanent basis.

She greeted the photograph with a bright smile and unchecked enthusiasm, hiding her annoyance at finding the man less than responsive. Granted he had spent his morning taking pictures of all the Districts' victors and escorts and they were last on the list but that was no reason to be any less professional about it. She intended to leave this studio with stunning pictures, no less.

She had a reputation to uphold.

"I shall go first, shall I?" she declared cheerfully, guiding Haymitch to a stool and forcing him to sit down by digging her nails in his shoulder. "Try to reach for that flask in your inner pocket and I will make sure it is the last taste of alcohol you get for the remaining of the season." she threatened in a low voice.

"You're a bitch." he spat in the same tone.

She knew he wouldn't try his luck though. He might be scary when angry but she was equally scary when provoked. And unlike him, who vowed he would kill her every other day of the week, she followed through with her threats.

Her dress was green and reached her ankles, the top was made of intricate lace while the bottom flowed down in layers of tulle. It was exquisite.

She had a lot of fun. She aimed for a playful look, smiling wide and laughing for the camera, gathering her dress and tossing it around so it would float around her while she twirled… The photographer soon looked less bored and actually got into the shooting, giving her instructions and requests she was only too happy to follow. She was good at this. This was her thing.

"Let's try for something a little more sexy." the photographer suggested.

Effie was alright with that.

It was all very professional but for every pout and hot gaze she gave the camera, she saw Haymitch leaning more and more forward on his stool, elbows propped on his thighs. She winked in his direction simply because she liked seeing him flustered – and she enjoyed it when he looked all grumpy and scowling because he had been caught ogling her. It didn't go any different that time. He glared at her as if she had personally insulted him.

"Your turn, Mr Abernathy." the photographer said.

Effie sauntered to the stool, leaving the stage to her victor.

It was a disaster.

How long had he been posing for promotional pictures? Fourteen years?

She distractedly clucked her tongue. He was too tensed, his shoulders rigid, his stance far from natural. He buried his hands in his pockets and stared straight at the camera, his face blank. He took the very same pose every year. The only difference were the outfits.

The photographer tried to give him hints but Haymitch was uninterested and uncooperative. She gave it ten minutes and then bolted from her stool, deciding enough was enough. She had held her tongue for two years.

"I am sorry to say you look constipated." she commented, marching on him. "See how vulgar you force me to be, talking about this sort of things." She tore the jacket off his shoulders, ignoring his protests and his attempts at fending her off and then forced it in his hand before guiding his arm back so the jacket would hang over his shoulder. "Now, look cocky." He scowled at her. She batted her eyelashes, unimpressed. "Just imagine you just bested me in a particularly vicious verbal spar."

"Don't have to imagine, Princess." he scoffed. "Just remember."

She stepped back enough that the photographer could catch the expression on his face. It was more smug than actually cocky but she didn't fight too much on that front. It was still better than his usual blank stare.

She talked him through difference poses, bodily forcing him in position to the point he started smirking.

"You like pawing me." he accused.

She didn't gratify that with an answer but she checked on the photographer's computer and that picture of him smirking was by far the best one yet.

"I want the two of you together now." the photographer demanded.

"So does Trinket." Haymitch snorted.

"Back to back for starters." the Capitol man said. "Let's play on the frenemies vibe."

She couldn't see Haymitch's face with her back on him so she dearly hoped he wasn't back to his blank staring.

"Okay, give me some hugging now…" the photographer requested.

That was more awkward. For one, she didn't quite know where to put her hands. She settled for his shoulder and his waist, all very proper, tucking her head under his chin so she could look at the camera.

So naturally he had to put his hand on her ass. And not only did he have to put his hand on her ass but he had to squeeze.

"Haymitch!" she rebuked, drawing back enough to glare at him. She heard the camera clicking and she pushed her victor away with annoyance. "I think we have all we need."

"That's alright with me." the photographer agreed.

She politely thanked him for his time and then stormed out after a last dark glare at Haymitch.

She was irritated and flustered for no good reason.

She did find a good reason later that night when the official promo pictures for the 64th Hunger Games were released and she found out the photographer had decided to use the one of Haymitch groping her while she glared at him. It was an immediate hit, everyone loved it. And, truth be told, it was very them.

Still, she spent the remaining of the season ranting about it.

He would never hear the end of it even if he lived to be a hundred, she vowed, and if she died first she would come back to haunt him simply because of that picture.

She was very set on it.