#'but who is she gonna choose' - about peeta and gale sigh

[mistlekissy]

watching thg with my mom has been hilarious btw

[nnight-dances]

HOW TO FALL BACK IN LOVE WITH YEONJUN

pairings: yeonjun x f!reader

tropes: one-sided enemies to lovers >:-)

plotline: yeonjun loves you. you've loved him before but now you're convinced he deserves nothing but your ironic smiles. well, you're wrong. these three acts of your life uncover the truth behind your resentment and the depth of yeonjun's love. plus, an epilogue where we collectively hate on short stories because only poetry can truly capture a writer's horniness!

what to expect: a lot of rambling in parentheses but i promise it's essential to the storyline, (i have many thoughts about how i've used this feature in this story which i can share if anyone's interested.) mbti talk, some tiktok slang.

song recommendations: sweet by cigarettes after sex, moonlight by dhruv, lay all your love on me by abba

—

THE FIRST ACT: 2 THINGS YOU (MIGHT) HATE ABOUT YEONJUN

it’s not a secret that yeonjun does everything with his everything. he’s only invested in his select few interests but just the little things take up all the space in his heart. you could argue for or against his way of living, he’s more than aware it’s not the healthiest to be like this but he’s not ready to change, not while he’s still young. for now, he’s a summation of fixations and obsessions in his world. and it just so happens that one of his obsessions is you.

“what’s this? y/n’s got a new piercing?” he leans back on his heels dramatically, mouth forming an o at the sight of the newly-added butterfly stud on the helix of your ear. “and it’s only tuesday. week not going very well for you.”

you narrow your eyes at him in your typical resting-bitch-face fashion, instantly taking on an aloof demeanor, “i’m extremely uncomfortable with the fact that you’re keeping up with the number of piercings i have. can’t say i’m flattered.”

“ha! at this point, i don’t even have to try to keep count. you get a new one every other day.”

“oh, leave her alone, jun,” calls out taehyun from behind you, “she’s doing it for inspiration for her portfolio that’s due in three days.”

two ring-adorned middle fingers stick up in front of taehyun’s face, your hoarse voice following suit, “you’re a terrible friend, kang taehyun.”

“two days? and you’re not done? sorry, love, but as an ESTP, i physically cannot forgive you. i have to shame you in public.”

yeonjun laughs a little too hard for your liking at that, about to chime in with his own patronizing comment but you cut in, “oh, well, you know who else is an ESTP? donald j. trump!”

yeonjun laughs again at that, enjoying the banter between you and taehyun a lot. he joins in, “i’m an ENFP. that’s the same as katniss everdeen’s, so i’d say that explains why i’m so hot.”

you frown, “you mean you would choose peeta over gale? yeah, i can see why you have such bad taste in everything.”

taehyun howls in laughter at that and yeonjun shakes his head, “oh, ho ho ho,” he shuffles closer to you, “you don’t understand, y/n, how badly you’ve just insulted yourself.”

before you can fully comprehend the meaning of his statement, he’s gone, grabbing (stealing) a can of beer from hueningkai who’s busy forcing beomgyu to arm-wrestle him.

“whatever that means,” you huff out, massaging your temples. taehyun sighs, concealing a knowing smile, “yeah. i’ve no idea what he means.”

you rest your head against the sofa he’s sat on, stretching out your legs, “i actually hate you for betraying me like that.”

“oh god, maybe i’ll stop the day you stop talking like we’re still in the second grade and i’ve lent my eraser to the wrong person.”

“you might as well have!” you complain, not in the least petty because, “choi yeonjun did not need to know i’m behind on my portfolio. god knows what he’s gonna do with that information.”

taehyun snorts, “ah, yes, he’s probably going to plan a full-fledged assassination involving your family and kids simply based on the knowledge that you’re a helpless procrastinator.”

“you know what?” you sit up with a groan, “i think you’re the one i should be worried about sharing my secrets with. you’re the real threat here.”

your ‘friend’ simply chuckles under his breath as he watches you depart his side and hopes yeonjun’s somewhere in the crowd of the party to keep your nerves… unnerved.

yeonjun is present in the crowd, sat on the less than reassuring metal stairs of beomgyu and hueningkai’s shared apartment. his hand fidget with his phone, struggling to stop himself from going on tinder only to be disappointed because he’s just looking for another y/n and that near impossible, unless you break your oath to rely on “real life encounters and experiences” (your very own words) to find love.

he finds you then, in a group of people hanging around the balcony, cigarettes in hand. you stand a little far apart from the others, looking undoubtedly spaced-out as you swing on your heels back and forth. you’re pretty, even though yeonjun can only see one-fourth of your face, what with all the darkness and your hair in the way.

but you hate him. even if your disgusted grimaces and cold glares are all but a joke, you did seem harbor some kind of resentment toward yeonjun. he’d no idea what it was and trust him when he says he’s been putting his neck on the line just to figure out why.

so far the reasons that have him most convinced include,

one: you hate all men in general and he just happens to be a particularly irksome male presence in your life.

this is a pretty likely explanation, he thinks as he approaches you, because even as an outsider to the group you’re in, he can see that you reserve your expletives for certain men.

“…and that’s why i think everything is soup,” yuta finishes saying when yeonjun joins you. for a second there’s silence and even mark who usually can’t control his laughter maintains a poker face. then, you groan, “yuta, if i had a pencil right now, i genuinely would have stabbed you with it.”

now, this makes everyone crack up while you regard them in disbelief with a look that screams you guys know i’m serious right? because you’re dead serious.

so yeah, it’s a good bet to say that men aren’t your favorite kind of people. but still, yeonjun couldn’t shake off the feeling that your dislike for him is more personal. wishful thinking, perhaps? but then, you turn and notice yeonjun standing beside you.

your half-smile tightens into a frown, “when did you get here?”

there it was. that specific tone you use with, that was missing when you’d threatened lucas just moments ago. the grit in your teeth, the intensity of your eye-contact, even the way you say you changes. which brings him to the next and last potential reason that yeonjun has spent days, if not years, pondering.

two: yeonjun had done you wrong without knowing and ever since then, you’ve grown to absolutely despise him.

now, yeonjun knew for a fact that you’re expert at holding grudges, clear from how quick you’ve always been to bring up embarrassing things people around you, specifically taehyun, had done. and to be honest, you’re just good at remembering unusual amount of detail which you use to your advantage.

which is why yeonjun knows you’ll know he’s lying when he says, “i’ve been here for a good ten minutes, y/n. i’m so hurt you haven’t noticed.”

“stop that,” you shoot back instantly, raising a singular but intimidating index finger, “i know what you’re doing.”

yeonjun raises his eyebrow in amusement, “stop what? what am i doing?” he slightly leans in to dramatically tuck in a few stray strands of hair, “please, enlighten me.”

the low, husky voice he uses is not lost on you. despite your flaming cheeks, you scoff, “that! you’re flirting with me!” you reach up and promptly untuck the hair from behind your hair, “these are my slut strands. you’re not allowed to touch them without permission.”

“your—” yeonjun pauses, “slut... strands? right.” he swallows a chuckle, smirking instead, all while internally he’s having a breakdown over how insane you are. like in a good way. in the way that everything you say is fucking crazy but it’s so native to your logic that it drives him crazy and holy cheese, yeonjun is scaring himself right now.

he looks away momentarily to see the rest of the group’s conversation floating elsewhere. he turns back to you, “so you noticed?”

you cock up a brow, “that you’re flirting with me? no shit, yeonjun, you know i may not look street-smart but i have to live with taehyun and his witty ass so trust me, i’m not oblivious.”

“oh, i beg to differ,” he settles closer to you, leaning against the same pillar as you, shoulder flush against yours, “i didn’t think for a second that you were oblivious.”

“that’s why you ran away after telling me i was insulting myself by insulting your taste?”

yeonjun flushes, taken aback by your straightforwardness, coughing to cover up his lack of excuses at that. you breathe out a laugh at his flustered state, “hmm, so goes down the all-mighty choi yeonjun.”

“at least i wasn’t defeated by my inability to complete my creative writing portfolio due in three…” yeonjun looks down at his watch, “actually, now, two days.”

this time, you’re left without a comeback, “that’s a low blow, man.”

he laughs, “come on, isn’t this like your first time being this late?”

“once again, i remain creeped out at you knowing things like that but,” you relax noticeably next to him, “i guess i ran out of ideas this time. not sure what’s wrong.”

“and this had never happened before?”

“i thought you already knew this.” yeonjun rolls his eyes, a complete contradiction to the grin on his face. ”hm, maybe you’ve run out because you’re trying to do it the same way you’ve always done it?”

“i mean, of course i’m doing it the same way,” you mutter, “that’s like the point of having a regular writing practice. it needs to become natural.”

“yeah, but you need spice things up a little sometimes!”

“gross,” you scrunch up your nose, “you sound like you’re prescribing me a threesome right now.”

he shrugs playfully, “if that’s what rocks your boat.” you push him away at that and he laughs out, “okay, okay, but i’m serious. try something new.” you quieten down at that, probably thinking.

“what about…” you look up at him expectantly and he almost fumbles over his words, “um, what about walking around the city?”

—

THE SECOND ACT: LOVE BEGINS BEHIND CLOSED PARENTHESES

full disclosure here: yeonjun’s second reason is right. the first one isn’t completely wrong, but it’s more so the second one that finds you in the gropes of overthinking that night.

you know how at a certain point in the past, you really (really, really, really) like someone but then things don’t work because that person isn’t into you (but more because you’re too caught up in your own self-perception to do anything) so slowly that lots (and lots and lots) of like turns into a lump of resentment? yeah, that pretty much describes your relationship with yeonjun. more or less, you hate him for not liking you (”in the past!! i don’t care about him anymore!” you hastily add from behind kang taehyun who had been narrating this whole paragraph. taehyun poorly covers up an incredulous snort.)

“so now you’re going on a date with him?” taehyun asks a little too loudly, “how does that happen?”

“it doesn’t happen because nothing is happening because i’m not going on a date with him!” you half-scream, hitting the brunette on his head to try and shove some sense into it, “and please, stop being so loud or i’m going to cry.”

“y/n, we live alone. and i think you’re going to cry nevertheless, but okay. if it’s not a date, what is it?”

“it’s just a walk,” you say and when taehyun looks at you blankly, “a walk around the city, in his exact words.” more blankness. more silence. “i was going to go alone but yeonjun said he knows an obscure part of town that would help me become, you know, curious.”

“uh-huh, right, of course…” taehyun purses his lips, intrigued to see how far you’d go with your denial.

“stop looking at me like you’re so much better than me! and no—” you cut him off knowingly, “don’t say that you are better than me. you’re not. what you are is an asshole and i hate you.”

you fall into your sheets with a frustrated wail and taehyun laughs at your state for a few seconds before returning to his role as your therapist slash best friend.

“okay, y/n, i know you don’t like to think about, let alone admit it, but you’re into yeonjun. and since i can’t let what happened a year ago happen again, i’m telling you that i’m almost completely sure that he’s into you, too. so please, don’t be hostile tomorrow on your date— sorry, your ‘walk’ with him. use the opportunity or i’m sleeping over at kai’s.”

—

“i don’t know why i let you talk me into this,” you scoff as you fall into step next to yeonjun. “we’re literally at a stupid park.”

he gasps like the theatre kid he should be, “first of all, this is a huge park and you’ve no idea how much people-watching you can from here. and secondly, i bought you coffee so all you’re being right now is ungrateful.”

you stay silent, eyes scanning a group of middle-aged ladies that passes you. you hear a whiff of their conversation, something about one of them wanting to take a break by the water fountain.

“see? you’re already in the zone and i didn’t even have to shut up.”

you look back at him, awed look morphing into a scowl, “no, i think it’s just really easy for me to forget you’re here.” yeah, it’s safe to say you haven’t taken a word taehyun said to the heart.

but no matter what you say, half an hour later finds you perched on a bench, crouched over your notebook, fingers scratching quick bullet points into the paper. you look up every ten minutes or so, head moving up and then rotating slowly, and then back to writing.

it’s only when yeonjun brings you your second cup of coffee that you notice the stiffness in your shoulders. he smiles at you, brightly. brightly? no, it’s the sun that’s bright, not yeonjun. he’s… moronic.

“wanna take a break?” he asks. you stand up in answer, taking the cup he holds out for you, the words thank you leaving your lips a little too quickly. he doesn’t overreact like you expect him to, his attention on some kids a few ways away from where the two of you are.

“you wanna play frisbee?” you mean to mock, not offer, but yeonjun’s ear perk up and he’s pulling you after him before another word can be said.

“hey, kids!” he greets the children who look like they’re maybe in middle school, “could we join y’all for a bit?”

it’s a a girl in pigtails who answers excitedly, probably encouraged by yeonjun’s looks (hey, yeonjun is objectively good-looking. just because you’re stating facts about his appearance doesn’t mean you’re in love with him. because you’re not in love with him.)

“sorry, this one is a little zoned out most of the time, so just don’t aim at her face,” you hear yeonjun say as you finish convincing yourself of your lack of feelings for him. you resist the itch to flip him off and flash a polite smile to the blonde boy next to you.

he responds with an enthusiastic wave, “hello! i’m ren!” you raise your eyebrows, not expecting him to introduce himself but return with a, “hey ren, i’m y/n. nice to meet—”

you’re cut off by yeonjun’s yell as the yellow frisbee flies your way. your hands come up to shield your face but ultimately it’s yeonjun’s body crashing into yours that saves you. does it, really? you wonder as you groan from under him. the grass is damp and you’re in it and yeonjun’s on top of you. you’re not sure what makes you more annoyed.

“i fucking hate you,” you whisper as yeonjun props himself up. he’s still close enough though so he grins, looking objectively good-looking despite the twig that’s found its way into his hair. “smile, babe, i just saved your life.”

you don’t know how to respond to his outrageous use of the endearment so you’re grateful when ren exclaims, “he just called y/n noona baby!!!! ewww, they’re dating!!”

on second thought, you’re not grateful because apparently, this is enough to wreak havoc among the group of children. weren’t they already at least ten? isn’t that old enough to not be annoying? you don’t find out because next thing, yeonjun’s hand is wrapped around your wist as he helps you up.

you shoot him a glare and the loud boy next to yeonjun screams, “they’re holding hands!!!”

“gosh darn, kids, your parents never touch each other or what?”

“my mother said my father’s breath smells like beer and that’s why she won’t give him kissies like she gives me them!” the girl in pigtails answers, proud for some reason. despite everything, you crack a smile at that, leaning into yeonjun’s side who’s struggling to stifle his laughter.

“i think we’ve had enough of a break, no?” he says to you and you nod, “please, let’s go before i’m forced to write about the bad parenting in my portfolio.”

about five minutes pass in you trying to break free from the group who insist on another round. another round takes two minutes before ren takes a hit to his knee and you both take the chance to leave, with you almost sprinting back to the peace of your bench in the shade.

you fall against the tree next to the bench, yeonjun close behind. “that was…” you take a moment to catch your breath, “not bad?”

yeonjun claps his hands together, “that’s exactly what i’ve been trying to tell you! this park! those kids! me? not bad!”

and well, because you guess you can allow that the whole affair isn’t half bad, it’s already evening when you’re too tired to write anymore. you look away from your almost illegible handwriting to find yeonjun gazing at you. weirdly (longingly).

he clears his throat, “you think you have enough?”

feeling weird (love-struck), you also clear your throat, “um, i should. i hope so, my fingers feel like they’re going to fall off.”

“that’s a good sign you’ve worked hard,” he pats your head. you don’t flinch away somehow. he continues, “it’s also a good sign that we should get some food.” when you narrow your eyes at him, he rushes to add, “you know, to relax your fingers.”

the excuse is ridiculous. the premise of this entire day is ridiculous. hell, yeonjun’s entire being is ridiculous. but you’re spent, your walls aren’t as rigid in the soft light of the sunset, and yeonjun’s eyes have an unreal glow when he’s silent.

and so, ridiculously enough, you answer yeonjun, “we should get sushi.”

—

that night, you return to your place to a tipsy party (?) of taehyun, soobin, and beomgyu with hueningkai glued to his phone-screen in concentration, filming everything. “you’re back!” kai announces when he opens the door, phone still recording, and you flip the camera off, not without a careless smile.

taehyun stands up at the sight of you, “i take it you had a fruitful date?” soobin laughs, so very loudly. “lmao,” (yes, soobin has the ability to say text slang out loud irl, next question please), “get it? fruit-ful? date? dates are fruits? am i drunk already?”

you shake your head at them and simply hug taehyun, feeling unbelievably affectionate today. “oh? what’s this? y/n initiating physical contact? choi yeonjun must be a god.”

you pull away, “this has nothing to do with him,” you say, sounding unconvincing even to your own ears, “i’m just tired. good night. if you make too much noise, i will take kai hostage and—”

“oh, do that anyway!! please, i’ll pay you!!!!” beomgyu shouts enthusiastically and you leave the living room before you have to witness any more of their drunken behavior.

but even in bed, you find yourself unable to sleep, mind occupied with… thoughts (is hanging out with so many men making you slightly dull? maybe. is it making emotionally constipated? absolutely. you make a mental note to schedule a lunch date with yeji later).

to be more specific, the image of yeonjun sat across from you holding out a piece of spicy tuna roll in your direction is too stubborn to leave your head. you think about yeonjun, among other things, that night.

yeonjun is no different, his mind still reeling from the realization that he’s spent an entire day with you. a day. a date? maybe, but whatever it was, you definitely couldn’t hate him too much if you could stand to spend that much time with him. you even shared a meal with him, laughed when he pretended his chopsticks were an airplane transporting food to your mouth. you humored him. you laughed with him. was that real?

—

if you think there’s nothing worse than waking up, walking out of your room— and right into yeonjun, then you’re wrong. because the disorientation you feel comes nowhere close to compare to yeonjun’s condition when he runs into you on his way to the common bathroom. he’s not sure what he else expected but it doesn’t surprise him to see that you sleep in a ginormous graphic tee (with mona lisa’s face on it?) and shorts.

“what are you doing here?”

the sense of deja vu overwhelms yeonjun for a moment before he smiles a little because your tone is not hostile, only confused. could he take this as progress? (or are you just half-asleep?)

“i’m… i’m here for brunch?” he’s a bit out of it by the time you raise your arms to stretch, heaving a half-groan, half-sigh. and listen, yeonjun’s not a pervert but he is considerably in love with you so seeing you with your slightly droopy eyes and slumped shoulders in your perfectly in-character pajamas sets off his imagination. to all kinds of destinations. (you as a domestic cat? you as a tired soul resting in his bed after a long night? god, he’s not doing this right now.)

“i don’t? i don’t remember agreeing to brunch?” you mumble confusedly, almost petulantly.

“you know,” announces soobin, suddenly revealing himself from the shadows (he’s literally been standing beside the two of you for two minutes, waiting for you to notice him. all he gets is the heat of the sexual tension between you and yeonjun. he could cook eggs on that shit.) “yeonjun was our friend before he knew you, y/n. actually, taehyun was our friend before he was your soulmate, so a brunch is a pretty normal occasion for us.”

yeonjun nods and you simply nod your head, probably too sleepy to make any witty comments at that. he shrugs, “but you’re more than welcome to join us if you want. for brunch? i’m guessing you haven’t eaten anything since our— since last night.” why’s yeonjun flustered? he’s only invited to brunch with four other people.

“i’m—” you’re cut off by yeonjun making his way to the bathroom. when he shuts the door behind him with a less than dramatic thud, you look at soobin in confusion. “so many things are happening too early in the morning.”

but brunch becomes a thing. and you join brunch, helping yourself to taehyun’s nearly perfect breakfast spread, your plate filled with bacon, eggs, and waffles.

“i say it’s nearly perfect because all we have in this house is fucking peanut butter!” you cry out, making taehyun give you a glare because he’s heard this many times before, “i don’t know how many times i’ll have to tell you this, but jam! jam is meant to be eaten with bread, it’s the only right way, it’s the way god intended things. do i look like a gym bro to you?”

“lol no,” says soobin, high-fiving you (you’re not sure if he does that because he agrees with your point about the jam, or if he’s also not a gym bro?) “y/n has a point. there’s so much more options with jam, think of all the berries you could be eating! peanut butter is the same old, same old.”

“god, i hate it when these two are in the same room.” you don’t have time to respond to beomgyu’s exasperated comment because yeonjun shifts closer to you on the sofa, coffee kettle in hand.

“want some? i’ll pour it out for you,” he offers, eyebrows raised. you pause for a second, mouth almost hanging open at how motherly he seems, but nod in a daze and watch as he stands up, takes out a black mug (that coincidentally happens to be your self-proclaimed mug) and pours coffee into it. you’re unaware of the little smile on your face when he brings it back to you, placing the hot mug next to your plate.

you’re about to think out loud about his motherliness when beomgyu follows up on his previous comment, even more boisterous, “oh, but these two in the same room are even worse.”

you look up at that to see the other three staring at you. you make a disgusted face, “why are y’all staring at me? please stop, i feel unsafe.”

“in that case, yeonjun must be feeling really fucking unsafe from how closely you’ve been staring at him,” laughs soobin, words slightly muffled from the food in his mouth. he’s lucky he’s your favorite friend (honestly, it’s just because he looks adorable with his cheeks full but eh, his personality wasn’t that bad you suppose).

“i’ve? not? been staring?” you ignore beomgyu’s snickering, picking up the coffee, “you guys need to get lives so that you stop searching so desperately for crumbs of drama here. i’m not here to serve as a source of entertainment for yo—” you promptly, contradict your statement by spilling the top half of your drink right into your lap.

while you sit there with scalding on your bare legs, it’s only yeonjun who seems concerned (overtly so, you’d observe if you’d care to admit it) with the others laughing their hearts out, satisfied at the comedic timing of your accident.

yeonjun, meanwhile, rushes to you with a handful of tissues, lips in a pout, “what the fuck, are you stupid? how do you spill that? have you never had coffee before?” you sit there trying to get the tissues from his hand, but he swats your attempts away, swiping the coffee from your thighs.

he’s much more careful that you would’ve been, making sure none of it soaks through your grey night shorts and a hand on your knee, probably to steady himself (spoiler: his hand on your knee doesn’t steady either of you, especially not him). but he manages himself well, his worrying outweighing all else as he looks up at you, “are you okay?”

you realize you haven’t said a word, eyes raising to taehyun’s who’s now looking away but watching slyly from his peripheral vision. beomgyu and soobin are in similar positions, pretending to be decent people when really, they’re over the moon.

“yeah, i’m okay, i didn’t really feel any of that,” you mumble, patting at your thighs, “but, um, sorry i wasted so much of your coffee.” yeonjun takes one of your hands, “no, don’t worry about it, i can always make more. you can’t make more of these legs.”

“okay! that’ll do it! i can’t take it any more!” beomgyu stands up with a melodramatic groan, “you two are gross, dude! like, not even in an elementary school way, you’re just objectively gross. i hate this.”

“what was that you said about not being our source of entertainment?” jokes soobin, elbow poking yours, pointing at you and then yeonjun who’s still crouching in front of you, one hand on you, “i very much feel like i’m in a k-drama right now, so i’ve no clue what you mean.”

you can sense from the tilt of taehyun’s grin that he’s about to follow suit with an equally, if not more, obnoxious comment, so you stand up, declaring, “i’m going to my room. i have a portfolio to finish in two days!”

you retire to your room after that, deciding concentrating on your work will do you some good now that you’ve… socialized? could you even call it that? you leave it at that, plopping down on your study desk where you would’ve usually conceptualized your rough drafts like you’d done yesterday in your notebook. it doesn’t compare to the park yeonjun took you to, but there is a window to your right from where you can see the slow street in front of your apartment. people-watching through that window has given you some pretty cool ideas for your pieces. you suppose it was like a pocket-sized version of your experience at the park.

you work the afternoon away, surprised to see it getting dark outside when there’s a knock at your door. you twist in your chair and call out, “come in!”

a light-brown head of hair pokes through and squinting in the darkness of your room, you can tell that’s not taehyun. “yeonjun?”

“woah, haven’t you got electricity in here?” he asks, stepping in and you see he’s put on a cream-colored cardigan on the blue shirt from brunch.

“nah, taehyun uses the money i give him for the electricity bill and gambles it all away,” you joke, sighing with feigned sorrow.

“ah, right, i forget taehyun has a gambling addiction. i’m sorry, miss, can’t imagine what it’s like to be married to someone like that.”

you laugh at that, yeonjun joining in. he leans in against the wall across from you, finding the switch to the lights in your room and turns them on. you’re both quiet for a moment.

you, because you’re reveling in the new-ness of your relationship with yeonjun. you feel like you’ve moved on in some way, no longer feeling caught up in the bitterness that had been coloring your interactions with him so far. he’s close to you, this yeonjun right now, who really, truly looks at you. you don’t even remember the yeonjun who broke your heart. (was it him who broke your heart? you begin to wonder, or just your imagination?)

for yeonjun, he doesn’t think he could’ve said anything even if he wanted to. you look so otherworldly in the dim glow of the evening, your eyes meeting his eyes, unapologetically and most importantly, without resentment. you’re beautiful, here silently in front of him, and he thinks he might have a chance with you after all.

“um,” he’s the one to break the silence, “have you eaten since brunch?”

you shake your head, “have you?”

“nope, beomgyu roped me into watching netflix with him when i tried to study,” he admits with a shy giggle, “next thing i knew the sun was setting.”

—

THE THIRD ACT: WINE FLIES WHEN YOU'RE HAVING FUN

conversations with yeonjun always lead the most unexpected places, and this one ends up with you driving with him to the supermarket. one day, you’re taking walks and playing frisbee with yeonjun, the next you’re grocery shopping with him because he’s had a whim to cook dinner for everyone. oh, how fast the night changes.. or however that one direction song goes.

“do you like spaghetti?” he asks, approaching the shelves stacked with different types of pasta.

“think before you ask me if i like pasta again, yeonjun,” you shoot back, inspecting the packets with your hands clasped behind your back. “wow, it’s been so long since i’ve been grocery shopping. taehyun never trusts me to get stuff and that’s how we end up with only peanut butter.”

yeonjun chuckles as he scans the shelves for the kind he likes and you shuffle around a lot, making little noises at all the cute shapes in the different packings. “they have heart-shaped pasta?!” you hold up the pink package excitedly at yeonjun who closes in on you with a fond smile.

“hmm, i think i get why taehyun never lets you come grocery shopping,” he starts, “it says here this a kids’ pasta.”

you regard him with your hands on your hips, unimpressed scowl on face, “you’re saying i have to be a kid to eat heart-shaped pasta? i don’t ever want to talk to you again.”

yeonjun is in a fit of laughter but he reaches out for your wrist as you pretend to walk away anyway with a hurried, “no, no, i think we should get the heart-shaped pasta.”

the rest of your trip is you roaming around being pulled off by the obscure brands and unusual types of foods while yeonjun grabs the ingredients you’ll actually need for dinner. about fifteen minutes later, when he’s done checking off everything on his list, he finds you typing away on your phone.

he catches a glimpse of the notes app on your phone and smiles as he comes to stand in front of you, “what’s up?”

“ohh, are you done?” you look away, “i got some ideas. i’ll use them for future pieces.”

“you’re done with your portfolio?” he asks. and you nod, eyes twinkling as the two of you head to the counter, “yep, i guess your plan with the park wasn’t completely a fail. it was not bad, really not bad.”

yeonjun laughs, piling the items for the worker to bill them. you gasp at the sight of a dark purple container, “you got blueberry jam?”

(fuck, his heart skips a beat. cheesy but valid. you look like you have hearts in your eyes.) “yeah, i saw it and thought you’d like it.”

you crack a delighted smile and even though both of you are paying for the groceries, you feel like you’ve been gifted the world. “i think i love you.” (you’re only joking. …right?)

—

“taehyun!!! beomgyu!!! soobin!!!!” you holler into the house, setting up five wine glasses around the table, “dinner’s ready!”

beomgyu is the first to come out, summoned by the smell of food, gaping at the fancy set-up of the two casseroles on the table, one bigger for the spaghetti and a small dedicated to your heart pasta. “woah, this looks insane,” he comments and calls out for the other two.

yeonjun emerges from the kitchen, the bottle of red wine you’d picked out with your hands. you hadn’t been the most helpful in the conquest of the pasta ingredients but you knew a thing or two about wine. this one was one the cheaper side so you didn’t have the greatest expectations for it, but it’ll have to do.

taehyun and soobin make it to the table five minutes later, shocked at seeing a table full of homemade meal. “is this, like, you and yeonjun announcing that you’re officially a couple?” soobin asks. (he’s not joking. the way the two of you stare down at the dinner you’ve put together proudly truly has him convinced that you’re finally over the pining.)

clearly this is not the case but the sight of both of you turning as red as the spaghetti for dinner is enough to elicit a few chortles from all of them. “honestly… shut up, soobin,” yeonjun scolds and you take a seat at the table wordlessly.

the dinner is an experience. it’s been a while since any of you have had good home-cooked food like this, the past few weeks having been cluttered with take-out meals and the extent of cooking you’ve done involves frozen food.

“this is so good,” you hold up a heart pasta, waving it in the air at everyone, and then at yeonjun, “i told you this would be good. it’s so good.”

“judging from the way you’re acting like a child, i’m guessing you’re done with your portfolio?”

you glare at taehyun but nod anyway, shooting him a thumbs up, “done and dusted, sir. i even managed to proof-read it before submitting it this time.”

yeonjun has been sitting beside you, eyes round with adoration at everything you say. you can’t blame him, you’d changed into a white dress with puff-sleeves before dinner which doesn’t only fit the mood but single-handedly creates it, and it’s a rare thing to see you in a dress so casually.

taehyun smiles, “i’m proud of you. even though you’re doing the bare minimum by completing your work on time.”

you roll your eyes at his twisted way of affection, the words on the tip of your tongue dying out when yeonjun leans into you suddenly, arm reaching out for the bottle of wine beside you. he shoots you a half-smile when he meets your gaze, pouring some out for you. as he returns to his position, he says under his breath, “try not to spill this on yourself, babe.”

you hold in the giddy breath that almost escapes your throat at his words, but you can’t stop the mellow feeling that blooms in your chest, eyes following him as he pours some wine for the others, too. was it the wine that was mellow or yeonjun’s voice? (hint: it was the moment of his love for you that was mellow.)

you make it through dinner, occasionally asserting the supremity of your heart-shaped pasta for kids here and there, but overall, overwhelmed by the man by your side. when everyone’s finished eating and lazing around the sofa, beers in hand (”wine is for sissies,” beomgyu aims at you because he knows you hate it when he says that, “let’s get beer guys.”), you take to the balcony with a glass full of wine to yourself.

the night air is pleasant after the warm atmosphere inside the house and you breathe through your mouth a few times, to calm your nerves. you can feel yeonjun’s eyes on you from the living room but choose to stay still, welcoming the feeling of spacing out in solitude.

“you alright?” his voice greets your ears not two moments later. (is he really close to you right now? or is the balcony just too small for two people?)

you hum affirmatively. then, you look at him, a light laugh leaving your chest. you’re leaning into his side now, you enjoy his warmth. “i’m good.”

“didn’t know wine could make you drunk,” he breathes, heart in his throat.

you shake your head at him, “i’m not drunk.” you hesitate and then, “at best, i’m tipsy.”

“i was talking about myself. i feel drunk. ‘s never happened before.”

you frown, throwing a careless glance over your shoulder, “beer and wine? yeah, that’ll make you drunk.”

“i didn’t have any beer,” he reveals. when you narrow your eyes, he continues, “i’m not lying. i don’t like to mix the two. i’ve read it gives you headaches.”

you stay silent, holding your breath for no special reason. (…)

“besides, once i start something, i like committing to it.” if his words themselves aren’t meaningful enough, the soft look on his face is full of unmistakable love.

“you’re not just talking about wine,” at first, it’s a statement you speak, your gaze fixed. then, memories of your past hurt rush in and you finish with an uncertain, “are you?”

“i’m not,” his voice is hushed and you feel there isn’t a moment lost between when he says his words and when you hear them. you’re so close to him, in all meanings of the word. “do you still hate me?”

you’re a little stunned by the jarring question. “i didn’t hate you. really, it was… something internal. like a dilemma. a phase, almost? i don’t think i could hate you if i wanted to.”

“you think?” you can feel his words inside of yourself now, even though you doubt either of you have moved any closer to each other.

yeonjun’s heart is on fire, destructive but determined. his hand brushes back your hair. “you’re so pretty when you wear your hair down.”

you hide your face in your shoulder, away from him, flustered that his words have such an effect on you. you’ve been complimented before. with much more zest, with more elaboration. but this is different. you feel like yeonjun is holding you.

he chuckles, “are you okay?”

you pull yourself away, swallowing, but not making eye-contact with him yet. “that’s the first time you’ve called me pretty.”

“that’s the first time you’ve heard me calling you pretty,” he corrects you. his fingers are in your hair again, this time to make you look at him. “you should listen to my thoughts sometime.”

you laugh and he’s moving closer, both his hands coming to your face. your hands move from where they’ve been clasping the balcony railing for dear life and find yeonjun’s waist, silently beckoning him nearer.

when your noses touch, yeonjun hums, “i’m crazy for you, y/n.”

you want to chuckle at his silly phrasing but instead, you’re saying it back, “fuck, i’m the crazy one, yeonjun. i’ve—” you stop your words, suddenly hesitant.

but yeonjun is firm, his lips hovering over yours and his question will you kiss me? unanswered because you’re already kissing him when he asks you.

(this kiss is. . . not bad.)

—

EPILOGUE: A SELF-AWARE SLANDER OF SHORT STORIES

“so…” your voice struggles to stay stable as you prop yourself on your elbows, yeonjun’s arms never letting loose of your sides. “when you say you’re crazy, is it that you’re crazy for me or crazy because of me?”

yeonjun stops in the middle of the tantrum he’s throwing with his buried in your neck. he blows out air through his mouth and you giggle, your hands pulling him up by the hair. “answer me!”

he sighs, “i don’t know, babe. both? neither? either.”

“come on, there’s a fundamental difference between the two,” you whine, “am i a symptom of your craziness or the cause of it?” he stays motionless, lips pressing against your cheek. you add, “just so you know, there’s no right answer. i’m honored to be either.”

“god, i can’t believe you’re using your boyfriend as material that’s going to be read by your entire class. a class of pretentious, sleep-deprived kids. they’ll hate me, y/n.”

you groan, kissing yeonjun’s ear lightly, “not true! you’re a very cute boyfriend.”

“so you are using me for your creative writing class?”

you pause and yeonjun flops onto the bad, pouting and feigning a cold shoulder. “the audacity of women these days!”

“hey!” you pull him back into you, “i’ll have you know that my love language is turning people into literature.”

yeonjun’s pout is already fading when taehyun’s voice breaks into your room (you should probably re-inforce the rule about knocking now that there’s a half-naked man in your room more often than not). “that’s true. she’s already written a story about me.”

your boyfriend’s interest is piqued at this, his eyes jumping between taehyun and you. “what? really?? and you haven’t written about me?”

“i’m trying to! you’re not making it easy.”

“did you ask him all these questions when you wrote a whole story about him?” taehyun cackles in glee at yeonjun’s returning pout.

you roll your eyes, “yeonjunie, it was a short story— the most unromantic form of literature. i’m basically saying i would rather write a bunch of boring description than even think about having sex with him.”

“hmm, it seemed like a pretty enthusiastic piece to me,” taehyun supplies unhelpfully. you glare at him. if you weren’t in just your bra, you would’ve gotten up to shut the door in his face.

“babe, i’m having serious doubts—”

you quickly shut down yeonjun’s whining, “i want to write a poem about you, my love. that’s why i’m asking you so much. it takes a little more to be properly romantic! i want to be truthful.”

he hesitates and you kiss his nose to seal the deal. taehyun groans in defeat, “gross. i just came here to get your asses to brunch. hyuka’s brought mint chocolate snacks from home so we need someone to handle him, so please hurry,” he starts to close the door as he leaves, but stops when the two of you make no move to wake up, “and you’d better not start fucking now! nobody needs to hear that this early in the morning, especially not poor hyuka.”

you laugh into yeonjun’s chest as he shouts back comforting words to taehyun. his lips attach to your shoulder. “i love you, y/n. you’re the explanation for my craziness.”

you shift to look back at him, smile widening, “hm, that’s interesting. can i quickly write that down-? okay, okay, sorry, i was kidding, love, come back here!!”

—

[seasonsofeverlark]

Pride

Author: @juxtaposie​

Prompt: It’s pride month! Could I request Everlark celebrating pride? [submitted by anonymous] 

Rating: T for some swearing

Wordcount: 870

Summary: Personal identities are weird, even when they feel right.

Author’s Note: This piece showcases some of the author’s opinions about the characters sexual identities. If you can’t handle people being anything but straight this probably isn’t the fic for you. ______________

“Three minutes!” Johanna hollers from the foyer. “Parade starts at ten, and if we don’t get a good spot I’m gonna make it everybody’s problem!”

Katniss is still in the bathroom, but she hears Peeta laugh. “I love how she says that like she doesn’t make everything everybody’s problem.”

“She will leave us,” Katniss shoots back through the open door. 

“That’s what Lyft is for.”

Katniss sighs. “You know how I feel about getting into a stranger’s car.”

“I’m ready to go, sweetheart,” he says - a gentle reminder that she’s the one who’s holding them up. 

She glances at the counter where her (safe, normal) black tank top lays haphazardly with its straps in the sink, then takes another look at herself in the mirror, her anxiety climbing. 

“I know I’ve already said it,” Peeta begins, his tone one of exaggerated nonchalance, “but you really don’t have to come if you’re not comfortable.”

“I’m comfortable,” she snaps. They’ve had this talk half a dozen times at this point. “I want to support you.”

“And that means a lot to me,” he says, “but I know how you feel about big crowds of drunk people, and I’d rather you be comfortable at home than uncomfortable out with me at Pride.”

That makes her feel a little bad. She knows she’s been groaning under her breath every time this weekend has come up in conversation, but it has nothing to do with Pride and everything to do with the aforementioned crowds of drunk people - crowds she’s braved for far less important causes. 

“I’m gonna pee!” Johanna yells, “then anyone who’s not in the car is finding another ride!”

“It’s now or never, sweetheart,” Peeta says. Then, when she doesn’t answer, he adds, “I’ll bring you some beads.”

Her rickety bed frame creaks as Peeta climbs to his feet, and Katniss peeks around the bathroom door to watch as he runs his hands back through his already wild curls and shuffles slowly towards the bedroom door, like he wants to leave but there’s a magnet inside him trying to drag him back to her. She knows because she feels the same pull in her chest, like their hearts are tethered together and they can only ever be so far apart, and it’s that gentle tug that finally moves her feet.

Squashing down her fear - what is she even afraid of? Peeta is the most accepting person she knows, and she’s never given a shit what anybody else thinks - she steps out of the bathroom, looking at the scuffed toes of her boots. Even with her eyes firmly on the floor it’s hard to miss the way Peeta’s eyes light up when he sees her.

“Hey!” he says excitedly. “You’re wearing-”

“I am,” she says quickly, cutting him off. She pulls self-consciously at the hem of her crop top as Peeta wisely bites his tongue - literally, she can see him clamping his mouth shut - and they stare at each other for a few long moments before she asks, “Is it okay?”

Katniss immediately feels stupid. It’s her goddamn crop top on her goddamn body. Why is she asking Peeta if it’s okay? She doesn’t care what he thinks about however she chooses to identify.

She doesn’t. 

Like he can read her mind, he says, “It’s your shirt, Katniss. Do you think it’s okay?”

“Yes,” she replies, trying not to snap and only just barely succeeding. She wants to leave it at that, but her stupid mouth keeps moving. “Do you think it’s right?”

She’s so annoyed when he asks, “Do you think it’s right?”

While she’s fumbling for a response, caught between her annoyance and an irritating fondness, Peeta reaches for her. He slings an arm around her waist, and she doesn’t resist when he pulls her in close. She’s eye level with the pink stripe that makes up the shoulders of his t-shirt, a garishly happy rendition of the bi pride flag, and she’s grateful, not for the first time, that her own shirt is monochrome, except for the purple stripe. 

“You’re the only one,” she says, burying her face against his chest so that her words are muffled. “I used to think something was wrong with me. One time freshman year Madge told me she thought Gale was hot, and I just thought she was crazy, or… that I was broken, or something.”

Peeta rubs circles into her back, trying to distract her as he turns them around and starts walking her, backwards, out the open bedroom door. She doesn’t fight him.

“You’re not broken,” he says gently. “You’re perfect.”

She laughs a little. “You have to say that, you’re my boyfriend.”

“I thought you were perfect even when I wasn’t your boyfriend,” he says, kissing the top of her head. Then, before she can protest, he swings her up into his arms and over his shoulder so he can carry her down the stairs. 

“Hey!” Johanna says excitedly, almost shouting to be heard over Katniss’ shrieking laughter. “You’re wearing the shirt!”

“One more member of the alphabet mafia,” Peeta says proudly, marching right out the front door that Johanna holds open for him. 

“Fuck yeah!” Johanna shouts. “Let’s go to Pride!“

***

Further Author’s Note: In case it isn’t clear, Katniss is demi - and we all know Johanna is a big ol’ lesbian. 

[everlarkingjoshifer]

A Different Way CHPT 13

Hello, my lovelies, 

I’m here with another late ass chapter of this crazy story. It’s been a busy week for me but I’m trying. LOL

First, I would like to thank @titaniasfics and @javistg for her incredible beta work. (You ladies are awesome!) To @mega-aulover @jobanana7 and my sexy Hubby for being such amazing cheerleaders and finally to @sunsetsrmydreams for her beautiful banner. 

To my loyal readers and those who have left such incredibly sweet comments, I just wanted you all to know how incredibly honored I feel and you guys are the very reason I keep writing despite all my doubts and second thinking. Without you, I wouldn’t even be in the position I’m in. So Thank you guys, thank you for your continuous love and support. Know, that I appreciate everything from the bottom of my overly anxious heart! 

If you’d like to access any other chapter, you can do so here AO3

As always, don’t forget to read, review, and reblog. Now on to the story... 

Katniss awoke to Peeta’s arm slung across her hip. They’d decided to cuddle on the sofa and ended up falling asleep. After an unsuccessful attempt to move, she instead resorted to using her free hand to shake him awake. “Peeta wake up.”

“No, not yet,” he moaned, wrapping his arm around her tighter and breathing in the scent of her hair.

“Peeta, I don’t want the kids to see us like this. We have to get up before they do,” she insisted patting him on the arm.

Blearily, Peeta raised himself from his sleep and rubbed his eyes. “Fine, I’m up.”

“Toothbrushes?” she asked covering her mouth.

Peeta pointed to a general area, “It’s in the closet with the towels.”

Katniss nodded and went to freshen up. She widened her eyes when raccoon-like prints looked back at her and groaned. this was exactly why she hated makeup so much. Turning on the faucet she tried to wipe as much of the mascara as she could. Once she was satisfied with the results she got to brushing her teeth. Hoping Peeta hadn’t noticed the disheveled mess she’d woken up as she walked out of the bathroom and said, “Should I make breakfast?”

“That would be great!” Peeta said brightening up while he folded the comforter.

The kids woke up midway through Katniss making scrambled eggs and bacon.

“So, what is it with Johanna and your sister? Are they lovers or roommates,” Peeta asked with a bite of his eggs.

Katniss choked. “Oh god, no, they’re just roommates. They’re both highly hetero.”

“What’s hetero daddy?” asked Rye, big eyes looking his way.

“It means a man and a woman like each other,” Peeta answered looking at Katniss.

“Oh, so it’s not like aunty Rue, right mommy? She likes a girl,” Willow added.

“That’s right, baby, she’s a lesbian. You get two aunties. Aunty Rue, and Tia Clove,” Katniss replied smiling. She looked over at Peeta. “Rue’s my old college roommate.”

Peeta nodded understanding. Once everyone had their tummies filled, Katniss hung out until Willow begged to go home because she missed her own clothes.

Putting on her coat, she smiled at Peeta and squeezed his hand while Willow gave Rye a quick hug goodbye before walking out of the house.

A couple of weeks passed. Katniss had never felt hornier than when around Peeta Mellark. It was as though she were a teenager all over again. She would often go over to his house while the kids were at school. Sometimes as early as dropping Willow off. Sometimes he would let her in and had what Katniss considered to be the hottest sex she’d ever experienced, and other times work took a priority leaving Katniss to settle her discomfort on her own which frustrated her to no end. Her hand could only do so much as Peeta was more than attentive and knew exactly which buttons to push.

Her work, thank God, never suffered. But when Johanna Skyped her in the middle of her little sessions Katniss grunted with frustration at not being able to finish, cursing herself for not bothering to close the stupid laptop.

“What the hell are you doing, and why are you so sweaty?” Johanna asked rummaging into a chip bag.

“I was busy if you must know,” Katniss answered hoping to avoid any more questions.

Johanna looked unconvinced as she chewed. “Doing what?”

“None of your business,” Katniss clipped.

“Ask her if she was flicking the bean,” yelled Prim off camera.

Katniss gasped and turned crimson.

“Oh my god, you were, weren’t you?” Johanna squealed.

Katniss shook her head. “No, I wasn’t.”

“Liar. I can always tell when you’re lying,” Johanna accused. She turned to call Prim who rushed by. “Your sister was flicking her bean.”

Katniss covered her face. “Oh my god, I hate you both.”

“You were?” asked Prim looking both surprised and a little grossed out.

Katniss swallowed and closed her eyes as she nodded. She could hear both girls squealing gleefully and felt herself blush even more.

“What brought on this new course of events?” asked Prim settling on a chair next to Johanna. Both women looking attentive waiting for an answer.

Katniss sighed knowing there would be no way she could keep her secret from them. They’d eventually wear her down. “I slept with Peeta.” Mortification set in as both her sister and best friend gasped and Johanna yelled a ‘fuck yes’. Katniss could picture them pumping their hands triumphantly.

Rolling her eyes she groaned, “Okay, you can stop now.”

“Hell to the no,” yelled Johanna enthusiastically. “You have so much more to explain. When did this happen and, more to the point, was he good? I betcha he was good.”

“ I really hate you,” Katniss groaned.

Johanna stuck her tongue out. “No, you don’t. You love us.”

Prim made a disgusted face. “Ew, I don’t want to know about my sister’s sex life.”

“Well then, cover your dainty ears. Wouldn’t want to affect your delicate sensibilities,” Johanna advised.

Prim stuck her tongue out.

“Why me?” Katniss whispered knowing her best friend was right.

Johanna gave off a cartoonish cackle, “Why not? You’re super hot and you can be nice when you want to be.”

Katniss gave them the middle finger as she did everything to avoid their gaze. “I’m awesome, okay? And for the record, yes he’s amazing. Come to think of it, I don’t think Gale was ever half as good as Peeta. I think this is the best sex I’ve ever had.”

“Probably the ONLY good sex you’ve ever had. It doesn’t look like Gale would ever be good at any of it,” Johanna tuned in.

Katniss snorted. “How would you know that?”

Prim rolled her eyes. “Puh-lease. He’s so into himself that I suspect he’s selfish. Bet you he was more worried about his pleasure than yours.”

“Not to mention that I think he has a small dick that curves to the left and he has problems with cumming as fast as the flash runs,” Johanna chimed in.

Katniss laughed nervously. “How did you know?”

“She was right?” asked Prim scrunching up her face. “Ew.”

“What can I say, I’m a talented woman,” Johanna looked so proud of herself.  

Clearing her throat Katniss continued, “Actually, I’ve been sleeping with him for a couple of weeks now.”

Both Johanna and Prim’s eyes looked like saucers as they gasped and covered their mouths to muffle their squealing. Katniss was beginning to suspect Prim and Johanna were part dolphin, what with the frequency they emitted through the computer. It was both thrilling and annoying at the same time.

“You’re fucking that hot piece of ass and didn’t tell us right away? Oh, now I’m mad,” Johanna murmured and glared once she regained her bearings.

“Yup,” Katniss answered.

Prim looked impressed. “Not bad.”

Rolling her eyes, Katniss told them the whole story of Gale and his insensitive words. Both ladies reacted appropriately, with Johanna promising to crush his nutsack between her hands and Prim, who wasn’t one to use curse words, finally calling him a fuckface.

When she got to the part where Peeta showed her his painting and she discovered her portrait they sighed romantically.

“Don’t be such a stingy hoe and share more details already,” Johanna pouted bouncing on her chair like a spoiled five-year-old.  

“What else is there to say, though,” Katniss asked shrugging.

Prim laughed shaking her head. “You could tell us if you guys are dating. Do I get to call him my big brother now?”

“That’s the problem, we haven’t exactly established anything, and he hasn’t taken off his wedding band. I’m afraid I’m falling for a guy who feels he has to keep the memory of his wife alive as some sort of punishment to whatever he feels he’s guilty of,” Katniss said. She hesitated for a second taking a wavering breath. “I’m scared,” she whispered

“Katniss, there’s nothing to be scared of. He’s loved you forever, and I’m pretty sure he’s feeling just as insecure as you. I mean, you have to deal with Lame Gale,” Prim said looking to Johanna for assertion.

Katniss pursed her lips, “But what if he decides that having a relationship could ruin his son?”

“That won’t happen. Rye would’ve already rejected you and he hasn’t,” Johanna put in choosing to resume her chip munching.

Katniss groaned running her hand across her face. “What am I gonna do?”

“Katniss, do you love him, or even like him enough to know that you can love him?” Prim asked.

Katniss thought for a minute. “I’m not sure if what I feel for him is gratitude for helping me so much or love. Maybe it’s a combination of both, or I don’t really know.”

“Well, I suggest you figure that shit out first,” Johanna said with Prim nodding vigorously.

Katniss huffed. “Well, I guess fuck me, huh?”

Johanna wiggled her eyebrows. “More like keep fucking him! He’s delicious looking, you lucky bitch.”

Katniss snorted. “Shut up.”

[ellanainthetardis]

A short one today but papa!H is still rocking! I hope you enjoy it, please let me know! Feedback makes my day!

[FF] or [AO3]

Chapter 7 : How We Survive

Haymitch must have surrendered to unconsciousness because when he opened his eyes next, the room was dark saved from the fire roaring in the fireplace.

He wasn’t drunk anymore.

His back was on fire.

People were talking in the next room. He identified Katniss, and Gale’s deeper voice. He listened to the words but they didn’t make much sense to him.

He wished she would put an end to that. He understood she might have feelings for the boy but she was putting him in danger with that fling. Him and Peeta both.

He drifted off again, only really stirring when he heard her quiet footsteps coming closer. He tried to look up at her but it disturbed the wounds on his back and he resolved not to move again if he could help it. She crouched next to the couch so they could be at eye level.

It was too dark for him to really make out the expression on her face but he could see the dark bags under her eyes in the pale glow of the fireplace.

“Should get some sleep, girl.” he muttered. “You look like shit.”

“’Cause you look so good.” she retorted and then immediately glanced down, as if she regretted the gibe.

He licked his dry lips, making sure to keep his tone light. “Yeah, well… What do you know, I’m not eighteen anymore… We can’t all look good half beaten to death. Your friend’s making it difficult for the rest of us.”

“Please.” Katniss scoffed. “Everyone’s talking about how you walked through the whole District with your back torn open. It was stupid but they all think it was brave or whatever.”

“They’re easy to impress.” he snorted.

For a second, he thought she would keep up the banter but she grew somber instead. “No, they’re not.”

He let out a long breath. “Let’s not do this, yeah?”

“Do what?” she frowned.

“The thanking part.” He moved his hand to rub his face and regretted it when it tugged on the stitches.

“You didn’t have to do that.” she whispered.

“Yeah, I did.” he sighed.

She shook her head. “It was my fault and I could have taken it more easily. You’re not… You’re not young anymore. We can’t lose you, Haymitch. Cinna and Portia just… We can’t lose you too.”

“Why, thanks.” he chuckled to lighten the mood, wincing when it woke the pain in his back. It also ended up in a coughing fit that did nothing to help. “I saved you and you call me an old man. Real nice, sweetheart.”

“You know what I mean.” she argued, sounding almost angry now. “And it wasn’t your place anyway… You owe me nothing. That law… It’s for parents. You’re not…” She stopped, clearly embarrassed. “You shouldn’t feel you have to do that for me. I can handle myself. I didn’t ask you anything.”

“You don’t need to, that’s the thing.” he pointed out. “I’d do it again too. But not anytime soon, so try to stay out of trouble.”

“Well, I don’t want you to!” she snapped. “I can’t be responsible if…”

“You’re not responsible for me. I am responsible for you.” he interrupted firmly. “That’s the whole point. You’ve got a shitty understanding of how that kind of relationship works, you know?”

“You’re not my father.” she spat, full of fury and resentment. And maybe some bitterness too.

“Does it matter?” he asked. He would have shrugged if he hadn’t been so certain it would make him pass out. “I’m your mentor. It makes you my kid.”

“I don’t want to be your kid.” she growled. “I’m fine on my own.”

“But you’re not on your own.” he spat. “And the sooner you realize that, the better. You didn’t choose this life, I get it. Trust me, I get it. But, guess what? It’s too late now. You need to wake up, Katniss. Everything you say or do now… You’ve got people depending on you. You fuck up, they’re the ones who’re gonna pay the price. It’s not fair. I fucking know it’s not fair, but that’s the way it is. Your mom, your sis… Peeta. That boy over there. They’re your people. You’re responsible for them. You fuck up, it’s them who end up hurt. So you play the game. You play the fucking game like a good victor. Even when it’s hard. Even when it’s unfair. Even when it hurts so bad you want to scream. Even if it makes your skin crawl. You need to think before you act.” He let out a long sigh. “What you did today, it was stupid. It could have ended up much worse than it did. If you’d let it go… Gale would have been hurt but hurt isn’t dead. Hurt isn’t dead. Understand?”

He almost expected her to bolt because that was her thing when it became too difficult. Run, hide, process and then come back.

She rubbed her eyes instead. “We’re never getting off the train.”

“We’re never getting off the train.” he confirmed.

She didn’t say anything else for a long time. Her face was turned away from him, toward the dark kitchen and he couldn’t guess at her expression. He was starting to drift off when she spoke again, her voice flat. “Are we your people? Peeta and me.”

He didn’t know if Katniss’ house was bugged. He regularly made sweeps through his own but they hadn’t bothered trying to spy on him in a long time. Katniss’ house, now, he had no idea, so he kept it at a half truth. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re my people.”

And Effie, but that part he left out.

“Did you have people? Before.” she asked.

It was dark and she wasn’t looking at him. It was the only reason why he told her the truth. “I did, yeah.”

“What happened?” she insisted, without any tact.

He closed his eyes, feeling the same wave of sadness and anger rise in his chest he always did when he let himself think about his family, about his girl. He wasn’t up for sharing the details.

“I fucked up.” he admitted quietly.

He didn’t need to clarify what it had meant for him in the long run. How he had ended up the way he had, drunk and alone… He supposed it was self-explanatory.

“I wish I had never won.” she whispered. “What’s even the point of winning…”

“Nobody ever wins the Games.” he scoffed. “Haven’t you figured that out yet? There’s no winning. There’s no winners. There are survivors. The sooner you get the difference, the better. We’re still in the arena, it’s just a different kind.”

“So what do we do?” she scowled. “There must be a way to…”

“We do what we always do.” he cut her off, before she could make a rebellious comment. “We survive.”

“That means other people will die.” she snapped. “That’s how we survive? By letting other people die?”

“Yeah.” he confirmed coldly. “’Cause that’s how we make sure our people survive too. We bear the guilt so they don’t have to.”

“It’s shitty reasoning.” she declared.

“You find a better one, you’re welcome to share.” he retorted. “Twenty-five years in, that’s the only one I’ve got.” That seemed to shut her up. She reached out for something on the coffee table and handed it to him. It took a few seconds for him to make out the shape of a bottle in the dark. “See…” he smirked, snatching the liquor, careful not to pop his stitches. “You’re an ungrateful brat but you do have your virtues.”

She rolled her eyes and stood up. She stopped on the threshold. She didn’t look back but she cleared her throat. “I’m not ungrateful.”

He supposed it was the best he would get.

He just hoped she had understood the message.