Warning: These one-shots feature heavy subjects, including alcoholism, drug abuse, and torture... so far. Now adding: depression. I'll add more as the story wears on, just in case.

AN: Credit goes to HannahSongla for the story idea. Please go check out her Hayniss story similar to this - Sweetheart. Credit goes to Suzanne Collins for the verse and the characters. I don't really own anything but the text of these one-shots. And no, that doesn't mean the song lyrics. Enjoy c:

Song: 10am Gare Du Nord by Keaton Henson

10 am Gare Du Nord

This feels right and I'm letting it
And now I know just what to do
Tire of me, if you will my dear
But I will not tire of you

Haymitch wakes with the sunlight spilled against his face, a mouth full of hair, and a dead arm. The familiar smell of honey and strawberries comforts him, although he can't place why it's so familiar. A figure sleeps tucked into his body, their bottom rubbing against his groin - much to his embarassment, considering his morning erection was making it's guest appearance -, their legs tangled with his, and their middle pressed against his arm, which explains why it tingles with lack of blood. The morning sun bathes their olive skin, a mismatched pattern of scars peppering their skin, scabbed over burns running up and down their arms and legs, nothing covering their modesty but a blanket.

First a rush of fear runs over him at the thought of having Katniss Everdeen, nude in his bed. But then an image of her, standing in nothing but one of his shirt, with her hair dripping down her shoulders and her eyes red from crying, and he remembers what happened. Peeta had broken it off with her - generally dumped her, because he was afraid of hurting her - two weeks earlier. He'd had a particularly bad episode, and when he had came to, Katniss had been backed into a corner, bleeding from a busted lip. And Peeta had left her while she was sleeping with nothing but a goodbye note. Hadn't even told her where he was going. But she had only been able to get dressed and leave the house recently, and she'd come running to him.

Another image - actually, it's more of a memory of her - slaps him in the face and he sighs in contentment.

Her legs wrap around his waist and he backs her against the wall, kissing and bruising the scars on her neck. Haymitch so desperately wants her to know that he thinks she's beautiful, but he's not good with his words, only with his mouth. Her nails scrape down his unclothed back, a tiny sigh escaping her lips as he rips at her clothing. He sighs at the pain, allowing her nails to make deep scratches into his back as the sex clouds his mind and thoughts. He finds pleasure in the way she hurts him - emotionally and physically. Mostly because if he didn't find pleasure in the little things, he would get nothing from this girl that he knew he was in love with.

"Haymitch," she breathes suddenly. "Haymitch wait." He freezes immediately, afraid that he had been hurting her or pushing her too far. He tries to find her eyes, but he can't help but stare proudly at her swollen and bruised lips. He had done that, and that swells his ego and something else. He wants to kiss her again at the thought.

"Sweetheart?" Haymitch asks, remembering that she had asked him to stop. She stares at him scaredly, an innocence in her bullet colored eyes that almost kills his growing erection. Haymitch remembers vaguely that she's barely eighteen, and a shame washes over him so hot that he almost draws away.

"It's just... I don't... I don't want to just sleep with you. I don't... I just... I don't want to be an easy fuck," she spits out the last word as if it's poison on her tongue. "If we sleep together tonight, will you kick me out tomorrow? I mean... if I let you in tonight, will I be nothing but cheap to you tomorrow morning? Because if that's how it's going to be then I don't want to be here. I don't want too do this." He laughs throatily, kissing her once, twice, three times on her lips. She stares at him in confusion, and it's the cutest thing ever.

"I thought is anyone would be kicking anyone out, it would be you. I've been waiting too long for this, as wrong as that sounds and, well, this more than I could have ever dreamed of. You can stay here tomorrow, and the day after that and the day after that. You don't have to call me yours, honey, but once I take you in this way, I'm calling you mine."

Haymitch buries his face into her hair again. He can't believe he actually told that to her - he can't believe he actually confessed his long awaited love to her. Even though a burning hot annoyance fills him at being so loose-tongued, he can't help but smirk lazily. As terrible as it was, he was glad the boy had broken her heart. But he was even more grateful that he was there to pick up the pieces for her.

Now the only problem was if she would break his heart.

Please do not hurt me, love
I am a fragile one and you are the white of my eyes
Please do not break my heart
I think I've had enough pain to last the rest of my life