a haymitch x donner reader who are hiding their relationship and eventually get caught together would be so cute !!
a/n: details, details, details!! this was so cute to write ok but honestly writing young, pre-hunger games haymitch being soft and smirky behind a sweet shop completely revived me. i just love writing for young haymitch so much, there’s something about him!! let me know what you guys think!! ♡
cw: secret relationship, maysilee being maysilee, making out in an alleyway, sibling bickering, fem!reader
the scent of peppermint sticks and honey-cakes clung to your dress, a fragrant cloud that felt absurdly out of place here, behind your father’s sweet shop. the air here smelled of damp brick, sour garbage and coal dust. specifically, the coal dust currently smudged on the cheek of haymitch abernathy, who had you pressed against the rough wall, his mouth hot and desperate on yours.
this was your secret. the district’s golden girl, the donner daughter from the town square shop with the pretty ribbons in her hair, and the sharp-tongued seam boy with violence in his eyes and a mocking smirk for everyone but you.
“you taste like sugar,” he muttered against your lips, his voice a low, rasping thing that sent a shiver straight through you. one of his hands was splayed on the brick beside your head, the other firm on your hip, his thumb tracing small, dizzying circles through the thin fabric of your dress.
“is that your way of saying you want more?” you retorted, tilting your head to give him better access to your neck, a thrill running through you at the daring of it. you were playing a part—the spoiled, pretty town girl slumming it—and you both knew it. but the way his breath hitched when you ran your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck? that was real. “it’s my family’s trade. you’re tasting.. proprietary donner caramel, abernathy. a luxury.”
he snorted, a warm puff of air against your skin. “a luxury, huh?” his teeth grazed your pulse point, not hard, but enough to make you gasp. “feels more like a necessity.” he pulled back just enough to look at you. in the dim alley light, his blue eyes were dark, intense.this was the haymitch only you got to see. the one who looked at you like you were the only real thing in a world of plastic capitol props.
“you’re insufferable,” you whispered, but you were smiling, tracing the line of his jaw.
“and you’re a terrible liar, sweetheart,” he murmured, closing the distance again. this kiss was slower, deeper. his hand left your hip to cup your face, his calloused thumb stroking your cheekbone with a tenderness that made your chest ache. you melted into him, the spoiled-girl act forgotten, your fingers curling into the worn fabric of his shirt. this was the truth: the frantic, hidden meetings, the stolen moments that tasted of desperation, the way he made you feel alive.
“ahem.”
the sound was like a bucket of ice water.
you jerked apart. haymitch moved fast, shoving you behind him in one fluid motion, his body a solid, protective wall between you and the intruder.
maysilee donner stood at the mouth of the alley, her arms crossed over her pristine apron. her pretty face, so similar to yours, was a mask of utter, profound disgust. her nose was wrinkled as if she’d smelled something far worse than the alley’s usual offerings.
for a long, terrible second, no one spoke. the only sound was haymitch’s ragged breathing slowly steadying into something cold and controlled.
“well,” maysilee said finally, her voice dripping with a disdain so pure it could have crystallized sugar. her eyes raked over haymitch, from his scuffed boots to his disheveled hair. “i wondered where all the peppermint extract had gone. i should have known it was wafting down here to cover the stench.”
haymitch didn’t move from in front of you. you peered around his shoulder, your face burning.
“maysilee, it’s not—”
“don’t,” she cut you off, holding up a hand. she focused her withering gaze on haymitch. “i suppose i should have expected this. you always were a magpie, abernathy. drawn to anything shiny that doesn’t belong to you.”
haymitch’s shoulders tensed. you felt the anger radiating off him, but his voice, when it came, was deceptively flat. “got something to say, donner? or did you just come down here to work on your capitol-worthy sneer?”
maysilee’s eyes narrowed. she took a step forward, ignoring him to glare at you. “father is looking for you. mayor allister is placing a large order for her town hall party, and he needs you to mind the counter. though, given where your mind currently is…” she let the sentence hang, her gaze flicking back to haymitch with fresh revulsion.
then, she delivered the killing blow. she sniffed, her lip curling. “really, sister. itchy itchy haymitchy? of all the boys in the district? he probably still has lice from the seam.”
the old, childish taunt, so absurd and so perfectly, viciously maysilee, hung in the air.
a sound escaped you. a choked, horrified giggle that you instantly tried to swallow. it was the tension, the shock, the sheer absurdity of your perfect sister saying something so ridiculous in her iciest tone.
haymitch went very, very still. you felt the exact moment the protective fury morphed into something else. his head tilted slightly.
and then, from behind him, you heard it. a low, rusty sound you’d only heard a handful of times. a genuine, quiet chuckle.
“lice, huh?” haymitch said, the smirk audible in his voice. he finally shifted, turning just enough to glance at you. his blue eyes were alight with a wicked, shared amusement. “better check your fancy ribbons, sweetheart. might be contagious.”
you couldn’t help it. the giggles burst out of you, a helpless, unstoppable stream. you laughed at the insanity of it all—caught by maysilee, of all people, while being kissed senseless by the boy you weren’t supposed to want
maysilee looked from your laughing face to haymitch’s smirking one, her own expression shifting from disgust to something akin to furious bafflement. her perfect plan to shame you had backfired spectacularly.
“you’re both disgusting,” she spat, but the edge was gone, replaced by frustration. “and you,” she pointed a finger at you, “have caramel on your collar. and your hair is a mess. fix it. now.” with a final, flouncing turn, she stormed back towards the sweet shop, the sound of her heels clicking a furious retreat.
the alley was quiet again, save for your subsiding giggles. haymitch turned fully to face you, his hands coming up to frame your face. his thumbs gently wiped at the smudged caramel and coal dust on your cheek.
“itchy itchy haymitchy?” he repeated, one eyebrow arched, the ghost of that rare laugh still in his eyes.
“she’s an idiot,” you breathed, leaning into his touch.
“yeah,” he agreed softly, his gaze dropping to your lips. “but she’s your idiot. and she’s right about one thing.” he leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper meant only for you, a secret within a secret. “you are a mess, donner.”
and then he kissed you again, right there in the alley where you’d just been caught. this kiss wasn’t desperate or hungry. it was slow, sweet it tasted like stolen caramel, coal dust, and the thrilling, secret truth that not even maysilee donner’s perfect disdain could ruin this. he adored you, spoiled bits and all. after all, you were his sweetheart.
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