Warning: These one-shots feature heavy subjects, including alcoholism, drug abuse, suicide and torture... so far. Now adding: depression, cheating, heartbreak, underage, implied prostitution, suicidal thoughts, someone having acid thrown on them, smut, implied rape/non-con. I'll add more as the story wears on, just in case.

Disclaimer: 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 or the playlist. Enjoy c:

AN: I'm not going to lie - I really just took this from one of my old documents and edited the hell out of it. I'm sorry. I realized I was taking too long to get a chapter up so I just went with this. Again - sorry .-.

Song: Chivalry Is Dead by Trevor Wesley

Chivalry Is Dead

Girl, just let your hair down
Let's paint the whole town
Life is our playground, yeah

The loud noise from the establishment next door is what drives her out of her petite little flower shop at noon, during her lunch. A laughing, shouting, and loud music drift from the open doors of the tattoo shop and through her windows, rocking her tiny establishment. It had to be illegal to be that loud, right? Katniss Everdeen was absolutely sure the other business owners on the block didn't favor the noise.

Ever since she'd bought her tiny little flower shop, she'd been dealing with this mess. The shop was supposed to be quiet and serene - the flowers were supposed to be soothing and relaxing. Primrose, her little sister, had said that's what flowers are supposed to do for people. But things couldn't be quiet and serene when the neighbors were a bunch of loud bikers with nothing better to do than waste ink on their bodies. It wouldn't even be so much of a problem, if it were restricted to just day or night, but this seemed to be 24/7. When she arrived at the shop at nine in the morning, it was mostly quiet. But as soon as eleven o'clock hit, the noise kicked up and by noon it was unbearably loud. And it didn't end until long after she'd closed down and gone home for the day.

Sighing, Katniss calls to her sister. The girl pokes her head out of the back room - where she'd probably been arranging the flowers - and moves to the front counter.

"Do you hear that?" Katniss asks, staring at the building with narrowed eyes. Prim nods her head, her blonde curls swishing around her face.

"Who doesn't hear that? Why don't you go ask them to quiet down?" she suggests, drumming her nails against the counter. Katniss shakes her own head, before going over to stand next to her sister. The windows rattle again.

"Doing nothing isn't going to get them stop, Kat," Prim says. "And I've been dying to know what it's like in there. Bring back details - juicy details, please and thank you." Katniss looks at her sister, prepared to laugh in her face at the notion. Her? In a tattoo shop? Katniss was a bit of a hermit - her main destinations consisted of the apartment she shared with her sister, the shop and the occasional adventure into the next town to visit with her family and close friends. She didn't even go to the library - she always sent Prim. Why the hell would she go to a tattoo shop? Even if it is just to ask them to quiet down?

Then again, her sister was right. Doing nothing wasn't going to quiet them down, and she'd be damned if she sent wild and untamed Prim over there. Next thing she knows, her sister is coming back with her arms covered in ink and her face littered with piercings. At least she knew she didn't want any of those things, and she could easily go and comeback without worrying about warping her face or body.

Katniss sighs in annoyance and runs her hand through her hair, ignoring the slight nudge of Prim's elbow. Marching over to the coat rack reluctantly, she instructs Prim to watch the shop and not to follow her. Her sister, rolls her eyes and promises. Wrapping her jacket around herself, Katniss pushed open the door and marched outside into the cold weather. It was louder outside, and she cringed. How could they hear anything over this music? This was impossible.

It's barely a couple of feet from her establishment to theirs - Imperial Ink, what a stupid name - so it doesn't take long for Katniss to slip into the building. Her eardrums threaten to pop at the intensity of the music, and the sound of needles against skin and the cries of patrons makes it worse tenfold. The busy artists concentrate quietly on their work, occasionally looking up to check on their client, but the ones without work sit in their chairs or on their tables and talk. If Katniss could think past the noise, she would wonder why they couldn't use their inside voices inside of a building. Or maybe how they could hear each other over everything.

"Excuse me!" Katniss yells over the music. A few artists look up at her, but only one of them makes their way to her. This man is decked from the neck down in tattoos, his body covered in different patterns and pictures. His right eyebrow is pierced, and his hair is unruly and too curly - it appears to be in desperate need of a wash as well. There are so many things about the man that screams dangerous, but the one thing that really stands out are is eyes. At first glance, she thought they were grey. But once he's closer, she can tell they are more of a slate - a blue and grey mixed color. They're alight with mild amusement, and she mentally prepares herself.

"What can I do for you, sweetheart?" he asks, his voice rough and a bit raspy. His eyes droop a little, becoming half-lidded, and she realizes he's flirting. One of the artists coughs 'slut' loudly and the entire shop riots in laughter, making Katniss' face go red. The man turns and gives them all the finger, much to Katniss' shock. How did he use such an insult so lightly? And why weren't any of them offended - the gesture was only causing them to laugh harder. It was like nothing she'd ever seen before. "Excuse those dickheads, what is it you want?, love"

Clearing her throat, Katniss says, "I just came to ask you to turn your music down. I work at the shop next door and well... the noise is a bit disturbing. Do you mind just quieting it down? Please?" Katniss has to admit - that last 'please' is laced with anger and sarcasm, but she's can't help it. There's a missed beat, where the man stares at her as if she's as strange creature whom he'd just discovered. Then he laughs - actually laughs - in her face, shaking his head and placing his hand on her shoulder.

"No can do, sweetheart. This shop thrives on our music - turning it down is inhumane, barbaric... uncultured," he says the last word in mock horrification and a few of the patrons and artists laugh. She slaps his hand off her shoulder, fighting the anger that bubbles inside of her. It was no secret that Katniss had a mild anger problem, one that could be sparked in the slightest of things. But of course, this stranger probably didn't know this, which is why she counts to five before answering. "I'm sure your owner would disagree. Do you mind if I speak to him er..." her eyes scan his shirt for a nametag, but it seems as if there is none there. Noticing her confusion, the man smirks.

"Haymitch Abernathy, sweetheart. I am the owner." A woman with half of her head shaved and tattoos running up her arms walks up to Haymitch, scowling meanly at Katniss before whispering something in his ear. They chat for a moment, and Katniss doesn't miss the snickering in her direction when he explains the situation. She is truly shocked. How could anyone hire people so rude and uncaring towards the general public?

"Ah, excuse me a bit, sweetheart. There's something wrong with... er... some shipping. I'll return shortly," and with that, Haymitch darts to the back of the building, leaving Katniss standing amongst the artists and patrons nervously.

It takes a long while, and for a moment she believes he hadn't gone to fix a problem at all. But then he returns with notebook and a smile.

"Hey there, pretty lady," Haymitch calls, once close enough in hearing range. "Thought you'd be gone by now." The half-shave girl pats his shoulder and saunters off, the arrival of a new customer being her new interest. Katniss rolls her eyes, despite the unladiness of it.

"Now, about the music," she says calmly. Haymitch nods, and for a second she actually dares to believe that he's seeing sense.

"You know, you're a pretty raw canvas," he says, causing her to startle. "Fresh meat, from the looks of it. From the pole obviously shoved up your ass, I know you've never been touched by ink. Why don't we change that, princess? You seem like the type of girl to want flowers inked on her. And there's nothing wrong with that," he smiles.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Katniss asks, ignoring the insult about the pole shoved up her arse. She was going to chew him a new one on that later.

"You need to relax, sweetheart. Let's see... you're a daffodil type of girl? Or maybe daises? C'mon, owner's treat," he says, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. Katniss quickly pushes him off, unable to contain her rage any longer.

"I don't want to scar my body with your tattoos, mister! All I want is for you to turn down your music so that I could go back to my shop in peace! Is that so hard to ask?!" Almost immediately after her little outburst, a silence blankets the shop - sans the loud music. The man clears his throat and waves the girl with the half-shaved head over. He whispers something to her, all the while the both of them staring at her like nothing they've ever seen before. When the man is done talking to her, she goes over to the speakers and turns them down - the music still blasting through the air, but actually much quieter.

"Thank you," Katniss says triumphantly, adjusting her shirt. "And how about something better than that music? That would be even better than turning that stuff down." The man smirks and nods his head before walking her to the door and opening it.

When Katniss returns, her sister is reading a magazine and humming the tune of the music under her breath. Katniss makes sure to slam the door closed to alert Prim of her presence before sliding into the chair next to her, not even removing her coat.

"That was awful," Katniss says, after a long pause of silence. Looking up, Prim goes to open her mouth to reply, but the classical sounds of Mozart fill their shop - louder than the music that was playing before.

My momma raised me to be classy, not flashy
I'm happy to please you
Though I can tell that's not what your use