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: This isn't beta'd. And I've proofread it enough times that I would probably miss the slightest errors. But on a positive note, I'm back!

Song: Kill Kill by Lana Del Rey

Bound up the stairs
I'm in the shower
Do you know that
I am going, to leave you

She caught him on week three of being sober, sneaking back into the house. He was completely smashed - it was obvious, he was always a terrible liar while drunk - and he was very, very giddy about it. They didn't fight that night - no, they didn't fight because Katniss was smart and Katniss knew better than to argue with him while drunk. So she tucked him into bed and curled beside him and listened to him breathe and cried. She knew what she had to do to get him to snap out of it.

The next morning, that's when they fought. He woke up hungover and angry, and she had been at her wits end, and they'd fought. Worse than any other fight - she'd hit him and he'd shoved her into the wall and they'd screamed and ignored the screaming baby two rooms over. It was worse because this time, he'd been so close. He'd been slowly inching away from the late night shakes and vomiting. He'd been slowly getting there. This time, he'd been so very fucking close.

She wasn't his mother, he'd yelled, shoving past her towards the baby's room.

He was going to die, she'd replied, blocking his path because damned if she let him near her child.

In the end, once she'd put the baby to sleep, they'd made love and Haymitch thought she was over it. Thought they could try again. After all, it was the same thing in cycles, over and over again. They would brew in it for hours, or days or weeks until one was tired of fighting and the other was just as tired of pretending to be angry. Things would fall back into balance eventually - they'd forget anything had ever happened and move on.

He figured everything would eventually fall back into place until the next argument.

But not this time. No, this time, she meant it. Katniss knew how cruel it was, to let him think that everything was alright again. But she was done with playing this game of merry-go-round. She'd had her fill of games, of people lying to her and manipulating her to be putty in their hands. She'd had enough - she was damned if she let someone make a fool of her three times.

He found her on the couch at the crack of dawn, her bags at the bottom of the stairs and the baby asleep in her carrier. He was still in his pajamas, still rubbing at his eyes. Haymitch wracked his brain, looking for something he'd done in the most recent couple of days. Their last fight, the one that he'd never forget for the rest of the days, had been weeks ago. What had he done now? And what was so bad that she was leaving him?

"What the fuck is this?" he blurts. Katniss fidgets - she looks weird in a dress and flats, looks so un-Katniss that it sends an uncomfortable chill down his spine - before looking up to stare him in the eyes.

"I'm leaving. I'm going to stay with Johanna, Annie and Finn."

"What the fuck? Why?"

"Because I'm not going to sit around with a man who would rather destroy his liver before his kid turns three. I'm not going to let you destroy her like that," Katniss glances back to their child, gives a small smile at the tiny little cherub.

"Her or you?" Haymitch asks with a snort.

"Both!" she snaps, before the baby cooes in her sleep and she has to rock her a little. "Both, Haymitch." Her voice is quieter this time, and there's a cracking to the edge of it that tells him how much she's on the brink of a break down.

"You can't leave me. You can't... not like... please." Katniss shakes her head, tucks Beatrix's blanket tighter around her little body. Small tufts of dark hair peek out from the small cap on her head and Katniss squeezes her eyes shut. She knows that if her little girl would open her eyes, she'd see the same slate grey of Haymitch's, the same grey tinted blue that she fell in love with.

Was she really ready to risk her baby girl growing up without a father?

"Katniss, look at me. I'm trying, I promise. And sometimes I relapse and I get that it's infuriating but getting sober doesn't just happen at the push of the button. I'll stop, I promise, but it needs time. Please, don't take her away from me." She knows he's right - she was expecting a lot of him. This was a twenty plus year crutch she was trying to take from him.

"Haymitch, stop," she whispers. "Stop trying to... to guilt trip me. It's not going to work this time."

"Please, don't take her from me," he pleads. His voice is broken and filled with hysteria. It's the sound of a man in a losing battle. "I can't lose you both. You're all I have left."

"How do you think I feel?" Katniss snaps, remembering the anger and the fury and the late nights of reasoning had drove her to this decision in the first place. "At this rate, you won't live to see sixty! I need you! Beatrix needs you! And I can't raise her without you. I can't go one day knowing you're there for us and the next day having you dead."

Beatrix shifts in her carrier, the rise in volume slowly waking the child. Katniss quickly hushes her back to sleep. Infant or not, her baby shouldn't hear her parents fighting over anything.

"I'm sorry," Haymitch says weakly. "I'm sorry."

"You can't-" Katniss pauses, closes her eyes shut against the world.

My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am 27 years old. I have survived two arenas. I have survived a rebellion. I have moved past the relationship the Games have trapped me in. My husband is nearly twice my age. He has an alcohol addiction. We have a daughter together. And I am in love with a dying man.

"You can't just apologize and expect me to kiss you and make it better," she breathes out finally. "I need to know. I need for you to promise that you'll change. And I need for you to mean it. I can't keep doing this to Beatrix or myself."

"It won't happen in a day," Haymitch admits. "Or a week. Or a month."

"I won't expect it to."

"I'll change. I promise, Katniss. I promise. I'll change."

I'm in love with a dying man
I'm in love with a dying man
I have done everything thing I can