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alice-in-wonderart · 4 years

Note

I have found your blog and I love it!! Good look with it! Can you do headcanons for pregnancy and post-delivery for the juniors? (I see you write about them, and I don't know which other characters you are comfortable to write for). Thnkx~

I write for right about all characters! The Nies, the Jiangs, the Wens, the Lans, even all of the Jins (except Jin Zixun he can go be mean somewhere else) + Yi City power characters are all characters I write for ✌️ (I may have missed a few names) That aside, thank you so much for reading my stuff! I'm glad you enjoy them ❤️❤️ Aside from having 0 time management skills, running such a blog is so much fun! Here is your request about the Juniors being...well- themselves.

Ouyang Zizhen

You're what now?

OYZZ.exe stopped working.

Then he realised three fundamental truths at the exact same time. (if u get the reference, bless ✌️ )

Once the realization of the situation hit, his eyes watered and a loud, yet emotional whail escaped his lips, before engulfing you in a big hug. He was going to be a dad! You two were going to have a baby. And then realization hit him again.

Shit. He was going to be a father. A father to a baby - his baby. That was a lot of responsibility he was about to take. A lot of work, a lot of sleepless nights, a lot of time and energy. Babies are hard.

And then realization hit him a third time. He was going to have an actual family with you. And you were the mother to his child. YOUR child. He almost couldn't believe it.

Cue OYZZ becoming 70 times more affectionate and careful. You want to go outside? By all means, but let your gentle lover accompany you. Just in case, y'know. You want something sweet? By all means, what kind of sweets does the queen desire? You need new clothes because of the baby bump? By all means, what kind of silk do you want? Colour? Pattern? Style? You want to sleep? 3, 5 or 50 pillows?

OYZZ is a walking panic bomb when it comes to your pregnancy. Conveniently, he also knows how to mostly hide said panic. But you being in pain, having morning sickness and and in general feeling off is not something he signed up for. So, he will dote over you as much as humanly possible.

But then judgement day arrived. And he was out of it. He somehow never considered the fact, that you were going to one day have to give birth to that baby.

You have never seen a more distressed looking man than OYZZ when he finally got the permission to see you. His eyes were puffy, his lips were quivering and he was so pale, he could easily pass for a corpse. It seemed as if he was the one giving birth, not you.

And he immediately dropped to his knees next to your bed, gently taking your hand in his. You were alive. You were alive and argueably healthy and that was what he needed to hear.

But then! In comes the medic, holding your child in pure white blankets, gently letting you take it. And the moment his eyes landed on that baby he knew, that his heart was stolen once more.

"Congratualtions! It's a girl."

Guess who is about to become "Daddy's little princess".

Jin Ling

"Hahahahahhahha. Funny. Oh wait, you're serious?!"

PaniK

What do you mean you're pregnant? When did that happen? When did you learn? How were you sure? Wait, you were how many months in?!

Give him time. It's not, that he isn't happy. He's just panicking like crazy. Of course, once the initial mental breakdown™️ wears off, he'd come up to you and give you the most emotional hug you've ever experienced. He'd hide his face in your hair, as he mumbled into you how incredibly grateful he actually is.

Now, as the Lanling Jin Sect's leader, of course it was expected of him to have an heir, so such news travelled quickly. Immediately this became the gossip of every household and ultimately led to you receiving a metric ton of gifts from all over the place. Jin Ling would also make sure you were living the most lavish, yet healthy lifestyle possible.

The truth is, he was utterly terrified. After all, he grew up without parents, lived only with his uncle and as a result was quite hot-tempered. More than anything, he wanted to be the best dad possible. He wanted his children to grow up in a loving family, with their parents next to them, with a mother to care for them and a father to teach them. And he was afraid whether he was capable of even being a good father. But of course, you knew he was going to be the best father in the world.

Now, speaking of hot-tempered, Jin Ling honestly would throw more hissy fits than you. In fact, he'd get more mood swings than you too. In fact, even when pregnant, you're the calm one. Because if you think he's snappy and over-protective of you usually, wait 'till you see him once he learns you're pregnant. Hoo boy.

He was at work, dealing with the pressures of leading a sect when one of Lanling's servants hurriedly burst into the room, giving him the news that made his tough guy act crumble in seconds - his wife was giving birth.

At the time, he was surrounded by now Sect Leader Lan Sizhui, (idk it's a hc), Nie Huaisang and of course - his uncle, who all ushered him to go see you. Thus, he stormed out, running towards the nursery like his life depended on it.

"What do you mean I can't enter yet, my WIFE is in there." You haven't seen scary until you've seen Jin Ling, amidst an utter mental breakdown, being held down by a few nurses, trying desperately to stop him from going in.

Once they DID let him in, he'd be by your side in 0.001 seconds, only to see you holding not one, but two babies.

"A-Ling, look. They're twins. Say hello to papa, little ones." For once, Jin Ling didn't mind the tears that began falling from his eyes, as he gently held one of his two sons in his embrace. Perhaps, being a father wouldn't be that bad after all. Not with you by his side.

Lan Jingyi

*dramatic gasp*

For once the loud, wild Jingyi was left speechless, unmoving, utterly starstruck by the news. He'd never admit it, but for a while he'd been dreaming of having a family with you. So, when you told him the news, his heart skipped a beat. His dream was coming true.

And then, with the biggest smile on his face, he'd lift you up, carrying you to your now shared room, stating how you shouldn't strain yourself and how he'd take care of everything you need.

"Er-gege, I'm only 3 months in, it's barely noticeable yet, I can take care of myself."

Denial.

Lan Jingyi will be there for you at the cost of right about everything, even if it meant breaking Lan's rules, much to yours and everybody's dismay. Macho man™️ will protect his darling flower. What he wasn't ready for was how complicated pregnancy actually is.

Whenever you're more moody, he'd be quick to anger as well, so small and pointless arguments wouldn't be uncommon. But for every little argument, there is also a sleepless night where he'd cuddle you, whenever your stomach would hurt, or you'd feel uncomfortable.

Now Lan Jingyi is a cool dad. He is a cool dad before he is officially a dad. Whenever you two are alone, lying in bed, he'd lean in to rest a hand on your stomach. And he'd always give a happy yelp whenever he felt his little one move. And gosh, how much he'd talk to the baby. He'd tell your stomach stories of his great adventures, he'd joke around and believe me, he's planned every family outing for next 10 years.

Absolutely everybody thought it was going to be a boy. Ouyang Zizhen and Jin Ling even bet on it, OYZZ being ABSOLUTELY sure it would be a boy.

Giving birth was a whole new adventure. He'd wake up much too early for his liking with you frantically shaking him awake.

"The baby is coming." "Who's coming?" "The baby." "THE BABY?!"

Cue, Lan Jingyi losing his damn mind. He'd be up and running in a blink of an eye, casually scaring the medics and waking up the entire Cloud Recess in his hurry. Don't run in Cloud Recess? He's not running. He's SPRINTING. Do not shout in Cloud Recess? He's not shouting, he's SCREECHING. Do not speak out of turn? FOR GOD'S SAKE MY BABY IS COMING. And he'd be like that the entire time, until he's allowed to see you. He'll write the rules a thousand times if he has to later. He won't, Lan aren't heartless.

Seeing his healthy little baby, he was right about ready to pass out. He almost didn't hear you joking how your little girl was a loud crier and was about to be just as wild as her dad.

" Wait. It's a girl? We have a little girl!" Cue Ouyang Zizhen screaming in misery, as Jin Ling victoriously smirks his way.

Lan Jingyi on the other hand couldn't have been happier.

Lan Sizhui

QWQ

"This is the best day of my life, I can't believe we're going to have our own family!"

With a bright smile, he'd pull you in for a sweet kiss, shaking with excitement. Honestly, he'd have the best reaction out of all the Juniors. He's a family guy, who gets to witness true love everyday around his fathers, so having a child of his own with you was one of his long-term goals. He was old enough and wise enough to be absolutely ready to embark on an adventure through fatherhood.

Lan Sizhui would be so loving and gentle with you. You'd have him wrapped around your finger, he'd respond to your every beg and call. He'd minimize any work-related travelling to make sure he could be as close to you as possible.

When he wasn't there, he'd assign his cultivation partner and trusty bestie Lan Jingyi to take care of you and look after you. Did you necessarily need it? No. But you understood his worry, so you let him be.

He'd be there for you when you were feeling down, through your mood swings, morning sickness. He never complained, never fought with you, never gave you anything short of his unconditional love.

In fact, he was so SO compassionate, that he'd get pregnancy cravings WITH you. Nothing like the two of you, sitting awake at 2 am, (uncommon for him) eating chocolate-covered cucumbers and apricots.

Similarly to Lan Jingyi, everybody were already 100% sure the two of you would have a little girl. With Sizhui's sweet soft-spoken behavior and big warm heart, having a little gentle flower to spoil rotten seemed like the obvious outcome.

Lan Sizhui, on the other hand, refused to give into all of those "what ifs". Only time could tell. Besides, he'd be just as happy and proud no matter what gender the baby would be.

With his careful planning and skillful avoidance of any travelling, thankfully he was there when the due date was up. On the outside, he remained as calm as physically possible, but oh, on the inside it was a storm. Few could see through his façade, but by the trembling of his fingers, discreet chewing on the inside of his lip and eyes darting all around him, his true feelings came to light.

And when he finally got to see you, you've never seen him more unlike himself. With a worried expression and hasty movements he'd make his way to you, trembling hand reaching out to cup your face. He'd leave a gentle kiss on your forehead, before turning to the newborn in your hands.

"Sizhui. Say hi to your son."

A single tear rolled down his face, carrying the weight of all of his love in it. One look at his child and his heart was pierced by a million arrows. At that very moment he vowed, that he'd protect this child with all he's got, teach him all he knows and love him with all of his heart.

Thank you for reading~

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ears-awake-eyes-opened · 4 years

Text

Effie turns 40

(Hayffie 💜🔥💥. NSFW. Sexual content and intensities at the threshold of midlife. Despite the title, this fic is primarily Haymitch-centric. The story, set about 7-8 years after Mockingjay, is part of a longer arc. Envisioning H & E’s character development is such a muse for me. Their voices were difficult for me to write in this one. I’m figuring them out as I go along. It’s a labor of love right now. Thank you for sharing the prompt — #13 below.)

***

Some decisions are calculated; you make them after they’ve turned over in your mind for hours, days, years even. Effie moving to 12 had been like that. Other decisions can’t even be called ‘decisions’ really. ‘Impulses’ would be more accurate.

Haymitch was generally not impulsive, unless alcohol clouded his judgement or blacked out all thought. There had been no alcohol the night before — on the eve of Effie’s 40th birthday, sobriety was part of their deal. And the whole thing was argueably the best sex he’d ever had with her or anyone else. Not that anyone was arguing the point.

Except something nagged at him — an impulse half-remembered, not because he’d been drunk, but because it had been hers — her impulse... maybe. And only as the sun came up did he give it thought.

“Don’t pull out...”

Her words turned over in his mind, belatedly.

During the night, the sheets had slipped to his side of the bed. If she woke just then, she’d accuse him of stealing the covers, which he likely did, since his sleep was fitful. A lock of hair coiled above her collarbone. He wasn’t sure how the ringlet stayed, given how many times he’d raked his fingers through her hair, pulled at it, dove inside it with that part of him that was into her far beyond the reach of his body.

He traced the curl with a fingertip then glanced down her breasts to her belly. Over a year ago there had been a baby there, for a while. He usually tried not to think about it. But the memory of its heartbeat nagged that morning along with the rest of Effie’s words.

“...Come inside me. It’ll be okay... It’ll be incredible.”

He didn’t hesitate. After pulling out all those months, staying in and feeling her clench around him as he spilled inside her had been so intoxicating that he didn’t even drink afterwards.

Before the pregnancy, Effie was fastidious about birth control. She set timers and took pills at precisely the same minute every day. After the miscarriage, she needed time to decide what to do since the pharmaceuticals had failed. And she felt like her body had failed.

Was she using something new? Did she get a shot or an implant? She hadn’t told him. Why hadn’t she told him?? Why hadn’t he asked her as she clutched his hips and reassured him and kept him in when he would have pulled out. Damn... just thinking about it made him want her exactly like that again.

He was planning to eat her out with breakfast. There was whipped cream in the fridge, and strawberries. He’d bought champagne, which she preferred to hard liquor. He’d drink it from the hollow of her stomach and let her do whatever she wanted to him, within reason. His girl would not be happy waking up 40, but he was planning to make her happy.

His thoughts mulled hot like spiced cider. And his mind wouldn’t let go of uncertainty or the memory of the heartbeat...gone. He didn’t want to go through that shit again.

He slid the covers over her, tucked the curl behind her ear, and waited impatiently for her to wake up.

***

Even with the curtains closed, the sun tormented Effie with reality. In that moment, 40 was the last thing she wanted to be. She rolled away from the window, pulled a blanket over her eyes, and tried falling back to sleep to no avail. She sighed in resignation.

Beneath the sheet, Haymitch caressed along the curve of her hip. His thoughts and emotions which had been rolling earlier were holding steady at the surface. This was her birthday. How long should he let her wake up before asking what he wanted to know?

She dropped the blanket from her eyes and opened them. As he stared into her, there was nothing playful about his expression, just unmistakable intensity. The feeling of a luminous bubble expanded in her chest and stretched along her midline to the juncture of her thighs.

She reached out and held his face in her palm. His jaw was still smooth with just a hint of stubble. She brushed her fingertips in the direction she knew the hair would grow. The familiar act flooded her with sensations of the night before, and she wanted his mouth on her.

She inched closer and nestled against him. Her lips plucked his once, and then again, sliding the tip of her tongue along the seam of his lips. He opened as she expected, and he sucked her in all at once. His teeth caught her lip, and the sting brought her nails digging into his back.

He groaned along her tongue as their bodies brushed, seeking a fit to burst the bubble, which he was feeling now too. Intensity built quickly. He had something to ask, but there wasn’t space now between them for thinking, just feeling.

She drew her leg up along his side, and she opened. He clutched her hips and slipped in slowly, but slow wasn’t enough — like when horses turn home, anticipating oats and cubes of sugar.

She pressed her calf to his ass, urging. A thrill rushed through her as he sank into the sweetest spot. “I’m gonna come fast, honey.” She let go of his mouth in order to say so. “I can feel it.”

His toes curled in the words. He was snug inside her, and she was so wet already. “Fuck, Effie. We just started.”

“I know.” She met him with upward thrusts, letting go of restraint and taking control in turn, drawing out her own pleasure. “Look at me.”

He met her gaze again and held it. Her fervor was catching. He gritted his teeth and matched her pace, holding back when she slowed. Then pushing home like the horses.

“It’s so much,” she spoke of the feeling between them. Her nails played up his spine to the nape of his neck, then along his scalp. His shiver was a harbinger of what was coming. “It’s so much, Haymitch.”

His confession was quiet, tucked somewhere in between guttural sounds and a calloused thumb stroking her breast. “It’s everything.”

The admission, the gentle roughness, the flood of emotion lit her up. “Ohh, I can’t stop it.”

“Jesus. Why would you wanna stop it?” He said it to himself as much as to her.

Luminosity exploded. Her body quaked, milking the length of him. The force of creation swelled. For a moment she was the whole world — his girl. The whole goddamn world. He climaxed inside her without asking the question, without saying another word beyond their cries of pleasure and release. They broke open, glistening.

When her shaking stopped, there were tears on her cheeks. Her leg flopped back onto the bed. “Damn...” she whispered, “I’d be willing to turn 40 every day if each one can start like this.”

He wanted to linger inside her and kiss her tears and tell her how glad he was that she’d been born exactly WHEN she was so she could be exactly WHO she was — somebody who made him feel things he never thought he’d be feeling.

But the nagging uncertainty which had been holding steady on the surface boiled over, and he said none of that. Irritation crept into his voice.

“Damn it. You’re a fucking Siren.” His shift in tone was clear.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That depends.” He looked into her eyes once more, assessing her critically. Then he rolled out of her before he’d fully softened.

“On what?” She turned to face him.

“What birth control are you using now?”

She hesitated. “It’s called being 40.”

“What?”

“I’m old now.”

His face was blank. “40 isn’t old, and it sure ain’t birth control.”

“Withdrawal isn’t 100% effective, and you’ve been doing that for a year with no babies.”

Haymitch sat up, trying to figure out what was happening. “Me pulling out is a hell of a lot more effective birth control than you being 40!”

She draped her arm across her eyes. Saying the truth was uncomfortable, especially with him upset. “My eggs are mummified.”

“Overnight?! You were on your period last week for christ sake! Your drama is gonna get us pregnant again. Is that what you want?!”

Everything got quiet. She uncovered her eyes and dropped her arm to her stomach. “You said ‘us.’ Why talk about US getting pregnant when it’s never going to happen?”

“It ALREADY happened, not even two years ago. And right now there are millions, maybe hundreds of millions, of my guys swimming inside you. It just takes one *non-mummified* egg, and we’re back where we were a year and a half ago. Is that where you want to be?!”

She paused before answering. The delay was long. Way too long, he thought. Her thumb caressed her stomach, just once, but he noticed.

“Effie, do you want a baby?!”

“...I don’t know. ...Maybe. I don’t know!”

“Maybe!? You don’t know!? Well, you might have just gotten one, and I didn’t even get a say!”

He was inches from her in their bed, and he wasn’t touching her. He was scowling as if she’d stabbed him in the back with his own knife.

“I didn’t force you to be with me just now — or last night! ‘IT’S EVERYTHING,’ you said. You JUST said that! What happened to THAT?”

“‘Don’t pull out,’ you said! ‘Come inside me,’ you said! ‘It’ll be okay — It’ll be INCREDIBLE,’ you said!!”

“It WAS incredible! Sex is always good between us but never quite like that. And it’s not because you shaved, or I waxed or I wore that awful pleated skirt. It’s something more. I felt it last night and again just now. Don’t tell me you didn’t feel it too because I KNOW you did!”

He leaped out of bed and stood naked in the middle of the room, fuming at her. Every muscle in his body was rigid. She wanted to touch him and soothe him and make him understand.

“Why do you have to be like this and ruin everything?!”

“You tricked me.”

“I did NOT! When have I EVER been deceitful?! You’re being unfair.”

He stormed into the bathroom and slammed the door.

As the water ran in the shower, Effie stayed in bed. Only when the room was quiet did she realize what she’d been doing. While they’d argued, she was clenching her pelvic floor, holding in those millions of sperm he’d mentioned. If I’m certain that I’m too old to have a baby, and if I don’t even know whether or not I would want to have one, then why am I doing this??

The only answers she could think of were that just maybe she wasn’t too old, and just maybe she knew more than she’d realized. Everything was jumbled, and she didn’t want to let go.

When Haymitch stepped out of the bathroom, he dressed in stony silence.

“We need to talk about this,” she said.

There were fresh tears on her cheeks, but they barely phased him. “I feel suffocated. I’ve gotta get out of here.”

“Fine. Walk away...” As he did, she tried to sound angry. “Walking away is what you always do!”

She steeled herself against the sound she knew was coming. When she heard the front door slam, she told herself, “At the end of the day, it’s my bed he’s crawling back into!” She tried to sound confident, but her voice wavered. Because she wasn’t confident — and she wasn’t angry. Not really.

She was confused, and she was sad. She was 40 — and so goddamn sad.

***

Getting out of the house wasn’t enough. Haymitch wanted out of his feelings, out of his thoughts, out of his body. Walking away wasn’t enough, so he ran — at least fifty yards, veering off the road through a field, thick with grasses and aging saplings. He steered clear of scattered houses and the voices of people. People were just waiting to screw him over and slit his throat. Oats and cubes of sugar were a fucking fantasy. He was running toward nothing, chasing his own breath.

When he couldn’t catch it, he stopped and reached into his coat for his flask. It wasn’t there. Shit. At least coins jingled in his pockets. He gathered them up, and counted out enough to buy a bottle. He set off again in the direction of the Hob, walking now since he’d lost steam for anything else. He’d have to face people after all.

The building was uncrowded for mid morning. Fragrances of food and coffee made his stomach protest its emptiness. He bought a bottle of whiskey and had enough cash left on him for a bowl of soup.

“Mornin’, boy,” Greasy Sae greeted him in the usual way, “You’re showin’ up here mighty early.” She glanced at the bottle tucked in the crook of his elbow. “You pickin’ up supplies for the party?”

Fuck. He’d forgotten. Peeta was hosting a surprise that afternoon, baking a big cake and everything for Effie. Haymitch had no idea who all had been invited. Damn near everyone in 12 knew her now, outgoing as she was. Hopefully Katniss had reined in the boy’s generosity, and they’d keep the gathering small. Though Haymitch didn’t want to deal with any of that shit now.

“Can I get you a cup of beef soup?” Sae asked when he hadn’t responded, “Just made it fresh this mornin’ with the real thing.”

“The party. Right...” he answered late.

Peeta had asked him to come up with some excuse to get Effie to their place early in the afternoon. ...I just heard the kids talking about curtains, maybe you should go over and help them out... Something like that ought to do. Until the fight that morning, he’d been looking forward to spending time with them. He’d been looking forward to everything.

“...Soup would be fine,” he answered after Sae had already ladeled some into an oversized cup.

“How’s that girl of yours?” She filled the silence as Haymitch counted out change. “Turnin’ 40 can be tough for a woman. We tend to feel age differently before we’ve got kids. Once there’s kids, we ain’t got time to feel old. Take a moment to even breathe, and they’ll run right over you.” She handed him the soup. “I know she lost one, and losin’ ‘em hurts. It’s real hard to lose your first. But I got hope for you.”

As he stood there with the cup warming his hands, facing Sae’s crinkled brown eyes and thin smile, he felt Effie’s words filling his gut... Why do you have to be like this and ruin everything?! The thought stole his appetite, but he drank the soup anyway in three gulps and handed the cup back to her. The food calmed his stomach. “Guess I was hungrier than I felt.”

“Feelin’s can fool us. A body can get so used to emptiness that we start feelin’ full from it. But emptiness ain’t gonna nourish you. ...Now, I got customers waitin’. Tell Effie I’m wishin’ her a happy birthday.”

“I’ll do that,” Haymitch said out of habit. He was going to have to talk to Effie eventually, but he wasn’t ready.

He left the Hob feeling like a hypocrite. He’d accused her of tricking him when he was all too eager to finish off sex inside her with nothing in between them — so eager he’d done it twice. And, damn it, he’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t want to do it again.

He cracked open the bottle and tried to chase away regret about what he’d said to her. He followed the gravel road deeper into what used to be the Seam. Long ago it was home, but home changes. The only things that tied him to that stretch of land were memories and wounds long sealed by scars.

His open wounds were elsewhere now, like home was. Swallows of whiskey wrapped the wounds in a layer of gauze. He could think and feel through it, but the thoughts and feelings were hazy, like the mist that covers the meadow in the morning before it’s touched by the sun.

Ghosts of a sort came out of the mist and murmured their stories. He wasn’t sober enough to tell the voices to fuck off, and he wasn’t drunk enough to not hear them. So he listened through the haze, walking without a destination in mind.

***

The first voice — longing — came from the seashore. Skipping rocks and building sandcastles with Annie’s boy had flipped a switch in him. The kid had been his shadow. At the week’s end, the little guy reluctantly said goodbye with a bear hug and a sloppy kiss on Haymitch’s cheek. What might have been if Effie’s baby had lived and become a child? Their child. It would have been something in between a giant pain in the ass and a love big enough to eat him alive.

I’d be a fool to consider bringing a kid into this fucked up world on purpose, the second voice — reason — said. He was an alcoholic who drank to stay alive. He believed he had no business being anybody’s father. And Effie nearly had a seizure every time she stepped in a pile of goose shit. Babies crap all the time, and they puke all over the place. And sleep?... Forget about doing it because they don’t.

And sometimes they die. A third voice — grief — lamented. They fucking die, and I can’t do a damn thing about it.

That fateful morning last year when Effie was losing the baby, she’d roused him from sleep. The chill in her voice tugged his heart into his stomach. “Haymitch, something is VERY wrong.” Cramping had come on in her back and abdomen, and she was bleeding.

Adrenaline rushed to his limbs as if he was in the arena. He’d gone to call for the doctor, and when he returned, Effie was sitting in the dry bathtub, still in her nightie. A steady stream of blood trickled down the drain, and she was holding something reddish purple in the palm of her hand. It was the baby — no bigger than an apple. ...Its name had been pulled from the Reaping Ball before it even had a name.

“I’m sorry,” she kept telling the tiny thing. “I’m so sorry...” She looked at Haymitch as he wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and chest. Her eyes held no tears.

He wasn’t thinking about the baby just then. He was scared out of his mind about losing Effie. “The doc will be here real soon.” It was all he could say as he sat on the edge of the tub, kissing her forehead and stroking her hair. He must have said it as many times as she said “I’m sorry.”

The doctor’s arrival, exam, and treatment were all a blur.

“I know it seems like a lot of blood,” the doc said later, “But there are no signs of hemorrhaging or uterine abnormalities. I was able to remove the placenta. A miscarriage happens more rarely at this stage, but it’s not uncommon. I’m sorry, Effie — Haymitch. ...She appears to be developmentally normal for 15 weeks gestation. I wish could offer an explanation. Sometimes these things just happen. A miscarriage doesn’t necessarily negatively affect subsequent pregnancies. It may take several weeks to recover. When you feel ready, you can try again.”

“We weren’t trying.” Haymitch wasn’t sure why he’d felt the need to clarify.

“She?” Effie had heard the doctor say it, even if she took in nothing else. She had only let go of the baby long enough for the doc to examine it. Otherwise she held it against her chest.

“Gender can be difficult to determine this early, but the signs indicate a girl. An autopsy could confirm, and it might show the cause of the miscarriage. If you’d like—“

“No,” Effie insisted, “I can’t let you take her and cut her open. She’ll be staying here.”

That afternoon Haymitch dug a grave under the maple tree in the backyard. He made it a full six feet deep so the scavengers wouldn’t find her and pick her apart.

Effie wrapped the baby in a small blanket along with her umbilical cord and the pieces of placenta and laid her in a jewelry box. “She’s used to being inside me. She’d be cold in the ground without a blanket.”

The words had been madness. If he’d let himself think about it like that, then he wouldn’t have gotten through it. One of them had to stay sane. Burying the tiny girl was his first and last act of care for her. Shoveling all that dirt over her was like burying an axe in his gut.

I refuse to go through that shit again, the fourth voice spoke in a convergence — anger and fear. It had been the one yelling earlier, as he took the discomfort of his wounds out on Effie. Thinking about the baby was too much, and his body wasn’t even the one she’d lived inside all those weeks. ...Effie’s was.

His feet turned him around, and he headed back up the road. This time he knew where he was going.

***

At home in the yard, the geese barked at him about leaving them to forage for their own breakfasts. The grass was sparse due to lack of attention. Not wanting their hunger to be something else on his conscience, he scooped wheat into their water buckets and pellets into their feed bowls. As they ate, they quieted down and left him alone, which was just fine by him. He liked most of them better at a distance.

Grass didn’t grow under the maple tree. A dense network of roots kept other plants from taking hold. He’d dug through six feet of those roots, and he pictured them growing back now around the jewelry box. The little coffin wouldn’t drift underground whenever the rains came. The tree would hold it in place.

He sat with his back against the tree and took another drink of whiskey — just enough to try to restore the haze which had worn off, leaving him raw again. Mist filled his eyes. The memories coming up were vivid and close. He wiped his nose on his sleeve. He hadn’t cried about anything in so long that he’d forgotten the way tears clog a person’s head before slipping out. They slid down the back of his throat until he’d swallowed so many that he thought he might throw up.

Effie found him there. She shuffled her feet as she approached so she wouldn’t startle him. She sat on the ground, cross legged with her hands in her lap. In the moment, she didn’t care if the soil stained her skirt. In all the years she’d known Haymitch, she’d never seen him cry. She ached to touch him, but she was afraid he’d pull away, so she didn’t reach. He didn’t look at her, but he didn’t tell her to leave, and he didn’t leave either.

Long minutes passed before either of them spoke. In the silence, Effie was uneasy, but at least she wasn’t alone. He was right beside her. The geese wandered the grass, and a breeze was blowing through the maple leaves. The leaves brushed against each other, whispering things she could only imagine.

“We need to talk.” Choked up and hoarse, Haymitch sounded like a stranger.

“Yes, we do.”

He looked at her with swollen eyes. Hers were more pink than white. He was beating himself up inside for making her cry about this, especially today. “I don’t wanna fight,” he said. The battle raging between the voices in his head was all he could handle.

“I don’t want us to fight either. ...Not here. Not about this.” She glanced at the the baby’s grave. “I had no intention of tricking you about anything, especially this.”

“I know.” His swift acknowledgement surprised her. He reached for her hand and interlaced their fingers in her lap. “I didn’t mean to ruin your day.”

She held his hand as a lifeline. “It isn’t ruined.” She paused before saying it in order to keep from crying again.

“It’s not what I planned.”

“Things don’t always turn out the way we plan.” She hesitated before saying more. “...For a short time after I lost the baby, my breasts made milk. Did I ever tell you that?”

“I don’t think I was hearing much then.” He looked at her breasts, wondering what other details she’d faced alone. “I remember tracing veins there that I hadn’t seen before. ...Sometimes I watched your stomach while you were sleeping.” Sometimes I still do, he didn’t say.

“I never got to feel the baby moving inside me. She was always too small to feel. ...She had the prettiest hands. Long fingers for playing piano. Do you remember?”

He shook his head. He couldn’t remember her hands. He leaned his head back against the tree and closed his eyes. “I’m mixed up, Effie.”

She scooted closer and laid her head on his shoulder. “Oh, honey, I am too.”

He caressed her thumb with his, and she watched the maple leaves cast shadows over their entwined fingers.

***

Eventually the geese wandered over, honking for more handouts.

“Give them an inch, and they want a yard.”

“If they had an actual yard, they probably wouldn’t be so demanding.”

“Suddenly you’re the goose whisperer?”

“‘Goose’ and ‘whisper’ do not belong in the same sentence.”

“I’ll give you that.” He pulled her to her feet, and they went in the house.

Despite the bit of teasing, the solemn mood followed them inside. There was much more to say, but they were both saturated.

“Listen,” he told her, “I don’t know if you want to hear this, but in about an hour I’m supposed to tell you that the kids are talking about getting new curtains and maybe you ought to go over and help them out.”

“Is that the secret code for my surprise party?”

“Peeta is trying to be subtle.”

“That dear boy is anything but subtle. This morning he was decorating a two-tiered cake with the blinds open. They actually COULD use some curtains.”

“If you’re not up for the party, I’ll have them call it off. Peeta might have invited half the town. I don’t know.”

“Be with me awhile. Then I’ll be okay to go.”

Haymitch was unsettled by the realization that being with her ‘awhile’ might never again be enough. Having witnessed so much death, ‘forever’ had always been a subjective and fairly meaningless concept. But it was starting to feel like something other than an endless train of horror. It felt precious and terrifying in a different way.

Effie stepped into his arms as he opened them. He needed to be held as badly as he needed to be holding her. Needing somebody other than himself was dangerous. He was uneasy with it, but he didn’t let go.

“Are you hungry?” He spoke softly against her temple. “I screwed up what I had planned for you for breakfast. I wanted to make you — happy.”

“I ate a little. Maybe we can have your breakfast for dinner?”

Sex was a touchy subject just then, but he wasn’t going to tiptoe around it. “It was gonna be breakfast in bed, using our bodies as plates and glasses. ...Are you still interested?”

“That depends. Will I get to make you — happy — too?”

If he thought too much about her sucking whipped cream off his dick, then they’d never make it to the party. “It’s your birthday, sweetheart. You make the wishes. I wouldn’t turn down that offer.”

At the end of the day, it’s my bed he’s crawling back into. The understanding was as comforting as his arms around her. She didn’t know what ‘everything’ would be, but whatever it might be, she wanted it with him.

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