#Peeta Mellark fic

[bruisedboys]

peeta mellark !!!! who loves all your insecurities likes it’s breathing <3 and who worships the ground you walk on because you’re his sun!!

peeta who loves your stretch marks even if you don’t. he’ll run his hands over the soft ridges, up and down, over and over. he’ll kiss the ones on your hips when he’s feeling lovesick (which is always) and he likes how you shudder under his mouth, say his name all breathless while you bury your hands in his hair.

peeta who doesn’t care if you don’t shave, it couldn’t bother him less. and if you do want smooth skin, he’ll offer to do it for you, claiming, “I’m an expert, sweetheart. c’mon, can I please?” you never say no, you can’t. he’s unbelievably careful and kisses your knees when he’s done.

peeta who loves your tummy and your thighs!! he’s always got a big warm hand on your thigh, or one under your shirt, kneading your stomach. they’re kind of his favourite parts of you. the parts he can squeeze all his love into. his favourite thing ever is when you wear a big t-shirt to bed so he has easy access to your thighs and tummy <3 better if it’s his t-shirt, of course.

peeta who braids your hair back for you before you sleep, no matter how tired he is. you sit on a cushion on the floor while he sits on the bed, fingers gentle as they card through your hair. sometimes you’ll fall asleep against his knee. he never has the heart to wake you up, so he lifts you into bed himself. you wake for a handful of seconds, enough to murmur a sweet, “thank you, pete.” he kisses your forehead, his way of saying you’re welcome.

peeta who takes your face in his hands when you cry, endlessly gentle. he swipes at your hot tears with his thumbs and curls his fingers behind your ears. “did you know you’re pretty even when you cry?” he’ll say. “how do you do that, hm?”

peeta whose love is hot like stars and infinite. he’ll go to the moon and back for you and he’s not afraid to let you know that <333

[destourtereaux]

just a little bit of hope - peeta mellark x fem!reader

⤷ summary: with katniss and gale both gone, peeta steps in as an unlikely hunting partner for y/n. ⤷ wc: 2.6k ⤷ requested? yes. see request here. ⤷ follow @lovebirdupdates and turn on notifs to be on my 'taglist'!

⤷ a/n: two things - one, peeta has dimples here, it's just how i imagine him, so please bear with me; two, pretend gale's father is alive please, i didn't think our girl would be able to support two families, no matter how strong she is.

___

The day is horridly warm, exacerbated by a heavy humidity. As you wake, hot air suffocates your surroundings, and the sun glares through the window, hung on a span of blue sky. Pushing yourself up on your elbows, your bare feet find the ground, then immediately retract. The floor is burning hot, baked by the sun. You grit your teeth and force your feet back onto the wood, ignoring the searing heat. You have things to do.

You make a bowl of porridge, watery, but edible. You drink half, and leave the rest for your mother. Your father is off to the mines already, his boots absent. You get dressed, pulling on the prettiest dress you own. You're ready. Or, as ready as one can be. 

Today, there will be no hunting with Katniss and Gale, no trading at the Hob. Today, there is only the reaping.

___

You spot Katniss at the edge of the square, gripping her sister's hand. Your friend looks nothing like she normally does. Gone are the boots and hunting jacket, replaced by a simple blouse tucked into a modest skirt. You nod grimly at her; neither of you feels like smiling.

Gale is over on the other side of the square, across from the stage they've set up. Your eyes meet, and he mouths "good luck".

After a few minutes of the routine announcements, Haymitch is introduced, then Effie. By now, the crowd has settled into an air of grimness, despite the clear blue sky overhead.

You don't hear Effie's jokes, and nobody laughs. She finally stops smiling, looking extremely awkward – you almost feel bad for her. Almost.

Then, she sticks her hand in the ball of names, each carrying a life, and pulls one out. Her smile is back on her face when she announces, "Without further ado, our female tribute is: Katniss Everdeen!"

You freeze, repeating her words in your head as if hoping they'd sound different. Your oldest friend – determined, brave Katniss, given a death sentence.

But Effie doesn't wait. Her next words are just as devastating. "And for our male tribute: Gale Hawthorne! Come on up now, dear, don't be shy."

Peacekeepers erupt through the crowd, grabbing your two best friends in the entire world by the shoulders, and forcing them up to the stage. Katniss whips her head around, looking at you with pleading eyes. You know what she's asking for.

"I'll take care of her, Katniss. I won't let her die. And you can't let yourself die, okay? Promise me. Katniss! Promise me!"

Your last words are hysterical, but ironically, Katniss is not. Having heard your commitment to Prim, she is satisfied. She yanks her arms free of the Peacekeepers and walks by herself, her head held high and her face serene.

You grab Prim's hand. Her whole body is shaking, wracked with sobs. You don't hear Effie's last words, but you know what they are.

"May the odds be ever in your favor."

___

It's been two weeks since the reaping which stole your best friends. It's shocking how quickly you fell back into routine, as if nothing has even changed. The only indicator of their absence is an added part of your day: splitting your earnings between your family and Prim's.

There are now double the mouths to feed, so you spend double the hours in the forest hunting. Villagers are sympathetic – that may be the only reason you're all still alive. They love Prim, and they trust you. Everything you hunt manages to be traded.

But still, you're cracking. It's just too much, and you don't know if it'll ever get better. You have no idea what Katniss and Gale are going through right now, and you don't let yourself think of them. It would break your heart.

___

Peeta Mellark has always been observant. His teachers told his parents this, back when he was a child. It's this trait that makes him notice you. The girl with the weight of the world on her shoulders, killing herself day after day to provide for not one, but two whole families.

He doesn't understand how no one else sees it. But maybe they do – it's just that no one in District 12 is really in a position to do anything about it. Still, the fact remains that you're close to breaking. You can't keep doing this alone.

Peeta Mellark has never been brave. His mother yells at him, beats him, and he takes it. He has never talked back to teachers, or dared disobey the Peacekeepers. So when he offers to hunt with you, he surprises even himself.

"What?"

"I'm Peeta Mellark. We were in the same class, and my parents run the bakery. I was wondering if I'd be able to hunt with you?"

So you weren't hallucinating. The baker's son – a boy you didn't think could kill a fly – had just asked to hunt with you. Your shock translates into a small laugh, not that anything about the situation is funny, really. Hurt flashes in Peeta's eyes, and you quickly backtrack.

"I'm sorry, that was rude. I'm Y/N L/N, I know who you are. I just didn't think you'd be the hunting type," you explain. Because you're gentle, and kind, and I've never seen you hurt anyone, with your words or physically. But you don't add that last part. 

"I've only ever hunted with Katniss and Gale, you must know them, they were reaped this year." Your voice cracks a bit with those last words, and Peeta acknowledges the fact with a nod. His hand twitches; he wants to pat you on the back, or grip your shoulder, anything to stop the melancholy leaking into your eyes, but he doesn't.

"But you're welcome to join me," you end with a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes.

___

The new partnership starts early the following day. You meet a groggy Peeta near his home, and the two of you begin the walk to the Meadow.

You hear no electrical hum from the fencing, which means it's safe to touch, and you guide Peeta across the boundary which separates the Seam from the forest. This is all illegal, you know, but you're too used to it to even notice. Peeta, on the other hand, feels an exhilarating sense of rebellion as he crosses the barbed wire, following your figure into the woods.

"You've never hunted before, have you?" you probe, although it's more of a confirmation than an actual question.

Peeta nods. "But I'm a quick learner. And I won't get in your way, I promise."

You smile, a genuine one this time. "We'll see about that, Mellark."

Over the next hour, you go over all the traps you had set from the day before, collecting from Katniss and Gale's traps as well. True to his word, Peeta picks it up quickly, and even has a great eye for camouflaging the traps. This becomes his task, using grass and twigs and flowers as his medium, painting a deceptive scene which looks safe and welcoming to the many squirrels and rabbits in these parts.

You also start him on foraging. Only one type of berry is poisonous in the Meadow, and it's easy to identify. You make sure he's clear on which to avoid, and leave him to it, while you head to the hollowed out tree where you've hidden your knives. The familiar sight of Katniss' bow and arrows within the trunk brings a pang in your heart. You leave them nestled within and retrieve only your daggers. You were never a good archer.

Another hour passes, and you return to Peeta with a deer. You're happier than you have been in weeks – this will be enough for almost a week's worth of food. Peeta is not empty-handed either, he has two buckets of progress, one filled with strawberries, the other with raspberries. He gives you a soft smile – he has dimples, you think. He then immediately turns a faint shade of green, having noticed the dead deer. 

You're seized with the desire to laugh, "Why'd you offer to hunt with me if you get queasy from the sight of game?"

He looks at you with an indignant pout, and you can't stop the giggle that tumbles out, then the full on laughter. 

"I'm not like this with all game, just, you know, the larger animals. I can look at dead squirrels just fine – stop laughing!"

Making your way back, within the District, you stop just outside of the fence to split your gatherings.

"Take the squirrels and rabbits, and the bucket of raspberries. I'll keep the deer and trade the strawberries with the mayor," you offer.

"No, you take it all," he crosses the barrier carrying the buckets, and you follow after him, shaking your head.

"I can't, Peeta. That wouldn't be right. This is a fair split."

"I never said I wanted to keep what we hunt. Only that I wanted to hunt with you, Y/N. Take it. I know you need it more than I do. I'll see you next weekend?"

And with that, he pops a strawberry in his mouth, smiling at the sweetness, and walks away.

You're left with your mouth open, unable to process what had just happened.

___

The next morning, you show up at the bakery. His bakery. You earned a few dollars from selling your strawberries to the mayor, and you figure that if Peeta won't take anything, you should buy from him instead.

A few dollars is enough for two loaves of good bread, and so you head to the bread aisle. But your gaze catches on the beautiful cakes on display, decorated with multi-colored icing and swirling script written in melted chocolate.

"I did those," comes a voice from behind you.

Whipping your head around, you see Peeta himself, looking at the cakes with fondness and a bit of pride.

"You did what?"

"The cakes. I decorated them. My mom bakes, but I decorate. I like doing it – it's like painting, just on a different canvas."

"They're really lovely. You have a talent for it," you confirm, "I bet that's why you were so good at hiding traps yesterday. You can see nature's patterns."

He gives you a soft smile in return, and you can see the dimples again. They're adorable, you think. I want to see them every day.

He gives a small cough, looking at you questioningly.

You startle, and blush a deep crimson. "Sorry, I lost my train of thought. I'm here to buy bread. Two loaves," you say as you lower your head to stare down at the ground, refusing to meet his eyes.

It's only when you hear a chuckle that you lift your head back up. Peeta's eyes are sparkling, and his dimples are clear as ever.

"I'll give you three."

___

Two months after the reaping, your partnership with Peeta is still going strong. Every Saturday, the two of you head to the woods, and spend half the day fishing, gathering, and hunting. Originally silent company has evolved into true friendship, with witty banter, fleeting touches, and shared smiles.

You have come to know Peeta Mellark. He isn't just the baker's son, the one who decorates cakes and hates seeing dead animals. He's the boy who saved you, when no one even knew that you needed saving. 

Day after day, he has shown up, offering kindness, companionship, and warmth, without expecting anything in return. You care about him more than you thought you could ever care about someone who wasn't family. You care about his messy blond hair, and you care about his broad shoulders. You care about his blue eyes which sparkle when he tells a joke, and his beautiful heart which leads him to give the occasional customer an extra free loaf. Most of all, you care about his dimples, which come out when he smiles at you. You care so much about him, that it scares you.

And Peeta cares about you. He cares about your hands, calloused but nimble, lethal when holding onto your twin daggers. He cares about your face, how it glows when you laugh at his jokes in the woods, but dims a bit when you're back in the district. He cares about your hair, always tied in a ponytail when in the Meadow, but left to flow freely down your shoulders when hunting's over. Most of all, he cares about your smile, which comes out when Prim thanks you week after week for your help, and forces you to take bottles of goat milk and pet Buttercup. He cares so much about you, that it scares him.

___

This hunting day, Peeta comes with news from the Capitol. A few weeks back, he started giving you updates on the Games, after you told him that you couldn't stomach the thought of watching your friends fight to the death.

"Y/N! Good news!" he greets, exiting the bakery. As the two of you begin your walk, he adds, "I'll tell you when we get to the Meadow."

"You're insufferable, Mellark. You can't just hook me like that, and not tell me what it is."

Peeta doesn't answer, so you start walking twice as fast, ushering him toward the edge of the Seam so you could figure out what exactly he wanted to tell you.

Once in the grassy plains of the Meadow, between the forest and the fence, you turn back to the boy, the impatience evident in your face.

"Tell me, Peeta, or I swear I'll –"

"Alright, alright," he laughs, "but it's not really good news, per se. It's just a little bit of hope."

You nod, urging him to continue.

"It's about the Games. About Katniss and Gale."

The last traces of your smile fade. Concern is etched onto your face, and your eyebrows scrunch up, your jaw tightens.

Noticing this, Peeta pulls you in by the waist, so that your head lands on his shoulder. "It's good news, Y/N. Don't look so defeated. They're both still alive, and they're fighting."

"But at least one of them won't be coming back," you whisper into his neck, so quietly you wonder if he even heard. But Peeta always hears you.

"Y/N. That's the news. They could both come back. Caesar Flickerman has just announced that they will be changing the rules this year – allowing two victors of the Games, provided they're tributes from the same district!"

You look up at him in awe. A change to the Games. Katniss and Gale, not one or the other. Both could win. Both could come back.

You choke down a sob, staring at Peeta's brilliant smile and those mesmerizing dimples. And before you can process what you're doing, you wrap your arms around his neck and press your lips to his in a bout of bravery.

Peeta's frozen for a second, before he begins to reciprocate the kiss in earnest. He pulls you in, one hand holding your neck and the other wrapped around your torso, pressing himself impossibly closer. He tastes like icing and strawberries, and you can smell the comforting scent of warm bread.

The kiss ends far too quickly for your liking, and you're suddenly impossibly shy, all bravado gone. You lower your eyes so you won't have to meet his eyes, but realize that you're practically sitting on his lap, having moved there at some point during the kiss. This observation brings a flaming blush onto your cheeks, and you scramble to move away, but you're held in place by Peeta's arms, forming an iron-tight cage around your figure.

He brings a hand to your chin, lifting it up, and kisses you again, more gently this time.

"Don't go all shy on me now, Y/L/N," he teases, and holds the back of his hand against your forehead, as if feeling for a fever. "You're burning up, darling."

"You know damn well that's not a fever–", you start, but you're cut off by his laughter, and once again distracted by those dimples of his. 

Maybe Peeta was right. Maybe there is just a little bit of hope left for you.

___

interested in other works of mine? see my masterlist!

[dixonsbrat]

whenever peeta is feeling stressed or just in need of calming, he'll drag you to bed or to the couch where he'll lay you down just to snuggle with you. he buries himself in you, arms wrapped under your waist, head nuzzled between the valley of your chest. his legs tangle with yours as your fingers intertwine. you play with his hair, running your fingers gently across his scalp continuously as he listens to the sound of your beating heart. all he needs is the reminder that he is with you, the love of his life, to feel at ease again because nothing in the world could possibly ever matter more than that ᡣ𐭩

[bonesandchalamet]

from the shining lights, to the sandy beaches, I’ll only love you — p.mellark

masterlist | pairing: peeta mellark x fem!reader

summary: bored and facing the capitol, you give the citizens of panem some drama to spice up the games

warnings: slight mentions of 18+ ideas but nothing graphic + mentions of insecurity

hours you think. it had to have been hours layered laying in woven grass blankets with flattened bread in your pockets that’s sure to be moldy soon from the moisture.

“how long have I been out?” a grunt escapes your lips to signal your awakening to them. you attempt to sit upward, but your hands were badly blistered and your arms were weak.

peeta lunged into the makeshift tent, he gently lays you back down shushing you to not worry about taking the next shift. after all, you’d been the one to trip over rocks in the acid rain, if anyone should get sleep it’s Finnick who carried you like it was nothing.

Finnick. sweet, sexy, district four, Finnick odair. the man women are obsessed with, and you could see why. his beautiful blue eyes and cocky smile, if it weren’t for the baker beside you, you’d be all over that fine man.

there was nothing wrong with peeta. his tenderness, the warmth he provides, he was an amazing boyfriend. but the ever thought of another man seemed to spark a load of questions piling up in your brain.

the storm had been out for awhile now, leaving you with some time of peace. you flip onto your left side, facing peeta, a wicked smile lifts your lips that he can’t even read. but it gives him something to laugh at in this place, “what’s your problem?”

“if you could fuck someone in the capitol would you do it? someone dressed like Effie?”

finnick makes a repulsive noise. hes had a fair share of capitol women, and even the sight of Effie was enough for him. having ran into her with zero makeup on, and nothing but a wig, Finnick odair would rather steer clear of any women from the capitol.

“I’d really prefer we think about our game plan—“

“it’s a simple question.” johanna finally wakes, she sits up carefully, her voice draws finnicks attention briefly from looking out.

sweat thickens above his upper lips. peeta knows there’s a correct answer. being in love with you, he’d never thought of another woman, so why would you ask? he can only imagine to lighten the mood, lift the spirits of the citizens watching in boredom, so he thinks it’s not harmful to play along?

“I’ve only ever wanted intimate moments with you.” peeta extends out his hand, the roughness of his palm touching your cheek, “you know I only love you.”

“this is such a yawn.” Johanna counters, she eagerly sits forward breaking the moment, “not a single woman caught your eye on the tour? you’re going to die anyway, might as well admit it.”

peeta let’s out a light laugh, and you know he’s serious. he’s only ever had eyes for you, but to Johanna, Finnick, haymitch, and potential sponsors, he needs to play in. he needs to draw them something, so he does what he’s a natural at; story telling.

“well there was a girl,” he pauses, eyes swiftly glancing at you before back at johanna, “hard to tell how old she was under those capitol lights, but she just kept following me. every room she was there, and I just couldn’t take my eyes off her.” he looks up the makeshift tent, a sadden glow casts across his face, “I wonder if I’ll see her again.”

you can’t quite remember a woman who followed him in every room besides yourself. maybe that’s who he was discussing? but he’d bought Finnick and Johanna’s approval leaving peeta to slip out the tent.

“what about you, y/n? sleep with a capitol or finnick?”

finnicks head snaps his head in the direction of his name, a spark lights in him earning a bright cocky smile, “I don’t bite, babe.”

it’s your turn to make a repulsive noise, but you know everyone at home is inching closer to their screens: would you screw around with Finnick for a night? or would you dare head back to the capitol? Finnick it is.

“just for a night,” you pause taking a long look at peeta. he’s fixated his eyes on something with the sand, probably just to occupy his mind from this conversation that’ll haunt his last memories with you, “I’d do Finnick, on the count that peeta can be there.”

“a threesome?” Finnicks words echo across the sandy beaches practically giving away your hiding spot, “I’m not sure I’ve ever done that.”

“I’d pay to be a fly on the wall of that night.” Johanna grins.

“I’ll pass. I don’t think I’d well with sharing.” Peeta blurts out.

a wide grin takes hold of Johanna’s face, yours is covered in a deep red blush that you’re thankful no one can make out in the darkness.

“peeta, possessive? never would’ve thought of that.”

it’s a shock to everyone, even you. peeta never showed any care that you were close to other guys, like Finnick or even beetee, but maybe it’s because he always knew you’d come back to him. he always knew it was him you’d love and swear you’d never leave. it must be the insecure feeling that if you saw what Finnick had, you’d leave.

to answer his worries, you wrap your arms around peetas neck and press a long kiss to his lips, “I kind of like it.”

“I’d rather sleep with haymitch than either one of you lovebirds.” finnick answers johannas question that was slightly forgotten from you three in the tent.

“come on, it’s my turn to watch.” johanna crawls out the tent, and for a second it’s just you two alone. you slip beside him, resting your head against his bicep, “who was the girl from the capitol?” you whisper.

a smile lifts to his lips, his shoulder slightly budges you to sit up, “who do you think?”

it was you. only you.

[msmk11]

I Made You a Pie

Peeta Mellark x fem!reader

WC: 849

CW: Mentions of food; you and Peeta had a fight; making up; reference to r's father believing in stupid gender stereotypes; fluff

Summary: The aftermath of you and Peeta's first fight.

Day 9 of mk's mad dash

You and Peeta fought.

You couldn’t wrap your head around it. 

You and Peeta just had your first fight, and it was awful. 

Scratch that, it is awful. You suppose the fight hasn’t been resolved, seeing as you’d told Peeta you needed some air an hour ago. 

It’s not like you’re trying to run away from your problems. 

Okay, maybe you’re trying to run away from them a little. But you also actually needed some time to think. To cool off. Sure, you and Peeta had a fight. But that doesn’t mean you want to say anything mean or nasty just to hurt your boyfriend. You’re a mature adult who can handle conflict well, it’s just that sometimes, you need to step away for a moment to regulate your emotions.

Probably. 

The fresh air has done you some good. After taking a long walk through the woods, you feel calm, level headed, and reasonable. Still, your stomach is in knots as you climb the steps to Peeta’s home where you’d left him. 

When you open the door, you’re surprised- pleasantly surprised that is. The air smells sweet- sweeter than it usually does, at least. You’re not sure if it’s your heart or nose, probably both, that guide you towards the kitchen where you find your boyfriend hovered over the oven. At the sound of your footsteps, Peeta’s head snaps up, “Honey, you’re back. I thought you might’ve left for good,” he says with a nervous chuckle.

“Sorry, I lost track of time in the woods…was trying to clear my mind.”

“Did it?” Peeta asks, “Help clear your mind, I mean.”

“Yeah, definitely. I feel much better now.”

He smiles warmly at you and you almost forget why you fought in the first place. Nosily, you crane your neck to see what new concoction he has before him.

“What have you been up to?” You question nonchalantly.

Peeta looks down awkwardly and scratches his neck, “Oh, I, uh, made you a pie.”

You certainly melt this time, your resolve no match for your boyfriend’s tooth-rotting sweetness. You walk forward and pull him into an embrace, “thank you, sweetheart.”

“I made your favorite too,” he says, mumbling into your neck. 

You pull away and grab his face, placing a soft kiss to his nose. Then, more seriously you add, “Can you step away for a moment so that we can talk things through?”

“Yes, yeah, of course, love,” the blonde responds. He grips your hand tightly and pulls you to the kitchen table. Though you’re already sitting in the chairs right next to each other, Peeta grabs the back of your chair and pulls you closer to him, so that your knees are in between his own. 

You’re still overcoming your flusteredness at being so close to your boyfriend when he starts to apologize, “Honey, I’m so sorry I-”

You reach out and put your hand on his thigh, “Peeta, sweetheart. Wait. You’re not the one that needs to apologize first. It should be me. I’m the one that overreacted.”

“But-”

“Please,” you plead, “Just let me say this first.” 

He nods at you to continue.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you this morning when you were just trying to be helpful. Of course I appreciate your nice gestures, and I understand that you just want to do things for me because you like to spoil me. And I love that about you. But I guess sometimes it makes me feel like I’m incompetent. Like you don’t think I can do things around the house to help- even if it is your house. Growing up, I was told I was incapable or incompetent simply because I was a girl. My father didn’t believe I could do anything besides help out in the kitchen or with the laundry, and it always bothered me. I guess I’m just sensitive about that sort of thing. And I want to be viewed as an equal.”

Peeta squeezes your hand softly, “I’m sorry that happened to you so young. I know you, sweet girl, you are capable of whatever you put your mind to, and I never intended to make you think I think otherwise. I just, never want you to have to work a day in your life if you don’t want to. I only want the best for you, honey. But I can see how that can feel degrading, so I’m sorry.”

You reach out and peck your boyfriend’s lips gently, “Thank you, sweetheart. I do really love how well you take care of me. Just know, I’m not afraid to do the dirty work. I know this isn’t my place but-”

“It might as well be,” Peeta interrupts, “You may not live here yet, but I always think of this place as ours- the place we’ll someday live as a married couple, maybe with a few kids.”

The biggest, silly grin crosses your face, “I rather like the sound of that, my sweet boy.”

“Even sweeter with the pie I made you?”

You’re pretty sure the kiss you give him answers the question. 

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

the winner takes it all

pairing: peeta mellark x gn!reader

wc: 890

warnings: blood and weapons mentioned. cato getting eaten by mutts (spoiler i guess). a self-sacrificing suicide (i fucking fridge someone off)

summary: there can only be one winner of the hunger games.

A/N: bread boy! lover boy! peeta mellark everyone!!!

masterlist

cato was dead.

his screams of agony mixed with the growls and snarls of the mutts ripping him apart. you and peeta peered down from above on the cornucopia, panting from the strenuous fighting while witnessing the horror below. his screams of mercy, begging to be put to his death. all you could do was watch as he finally went silent, his vocal cords ripped out by a mutt with dark brown eyes. they ran away once their prey stopped putting up a fight, disappearing into the dark woods.

a canon went off in the silent night. you and peeta are the only two left. it’s over, the hunger games were over and there were two victors.

“we won,” peeta sighed. you slowly looked over to him, a barely there smile as his eyes seemed to bring a twinkle in those swimming blue irises. “we won.” repeating it with more enthusiasm.

your own lips twitched at the corners, both of you smiling at each other as you go in for a bone-crushing hug.

arms over his shoulders while your fingers sink into his dirty blonde hair, your face buried into his neck as you deeply inhale peeta’s natural scent. peeta held you close by the waist with his palms pressing flat to your back, his breath tickling your ears as his lips left an absent kiss on your skin. “we won,” practically cried at those words. you both could go home and be happy together, get to enjoy your growing love in private.

leaning apart while moving your hands from peeta’s hair to caress his rosy cheeks, smiling so wide the apples of your cheeks ache. your eyes roamed over the scars and dirt smudging over his pale skin, how he still was your peeta mellark. still kind, selfless, and caring. your charming, handsome bread boy.

hands on his face you bring him close as you lean in so you are able to press your lips together, sighing in relief. it’s been too long since your last one, having been separated for most of the games. you could drop your guard and indulge yourself wholly into being with peeta, tasting peeta, touching peeta. it was heaven on earth.

“i love you. i love you so much.” peeta declared breathlessly, puppy eyes peering into your heart. you leaned in for another kiss, muttering against his mouth, “i love you too.” you ignored the ghostly feel of all district eyes watching this heartfelt moment, it was just the two of you in this world.

peeta helped bring you to the ground just as the sky was changing from night to day. looking to the sky thinking a helicarrier might appear from above ready to whisk you both away from this nightmare, but nothing. no peacekeepers stomping the grounds, no obnoxious trumpet flair or announcer's voice, nothing.

“we won. why- why aren’t they-” frantically looking around just as a feedback noise sounded throughout the arena. seneca crane’s voice a godly thing. “the two victor rule has been revoked. there shall only be one winner of the hunger games. may the odds be ever in your favor.”

heart dropping to your stomach, tears pooling in tired eyes, your knees gave out and you dropped to the grassy floor. the salty drops stained your cheeks and burned your tongue as a scream was ripped from your chest, head pounding in protest. you didn’t notice peeta’s arms wrapped around you until he started whispering in your ear, “it’s okay. it’s okay, you’ll win.”

and those two words made you go insane. “no! no, this- this isn’t fair! we- we won!” trying to shake peeta’s embrace off of you, panicking about the next move for either of you. someone needs to die, and it’s not gonna be peeta.

feeling for the hunting knife in your waistband you gripped the thick handle and held it at your side. peeta looked down and shakily inhaled before locking eyes with you, forcing an imitation of his lovely smile. “you deserve to win, it’s only fair.”

you steeled your nerves so that with your empty hand you could reach for peeta’s cheek like earlier and bring him back to you, capturing every last touch of him before it becomes a distant memory. the returning tear drops bullets on your skin.

“peeta mellark,” pulling away and taking a few steps back, “i’ll love you even when i’m dead.” slicing the sharp blade over your throat, causing a warm thick waterfall of your blood to flow downstream.

“no!” he rushed to your limp body, catching you and bringing you both to the ground. he cradled your upper body into his chest, pushing your sweat-soaked strains away from your face. his face was twisted in agony, something you caused to spare him any pain.

“please, please don’t leave me. i need you.” peeta’s hand fretted about your paling face, drops of dark red blood staining your mouth. “i love you. you’ll be in my dreams forever.” kissing your temple with every ounce of love he could pour into it.

your heavy eyes memorized the freckles scattered over his cheeks, the shade of green coloring peeta’s orbs, and the feel of his skin on yours. with your last breath, you were able to choke out, “forever.”

then your heart stopped.

and a canon went off.

-

[quiet-out-there]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Hunger Games (Movies), Hunger Games Series - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Peeta Mellark/Other(s), Peeta Mellark/Original Female Character(s), Peeta Mellark/You, Peeta Mellark/Reader, Peeta Mellark & Original Female Character(s), Peeta Mellark & You, Peeta Mellark & Original Character(s), Peeta Mellark & Reader Characters: Peeta Mellark, Finnick Odair, Reader, Original Female Character(s) Additional Tags: Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Reader-Insert, porn with little plot, Sex Pollen, Mildly Dubious Consent, POV Peeta Mellark, Explicit Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Light Dom/sub, Dom Peeta Mellark, Vaginal Fingering Summary:

When Finnick notices how the reader's drink has been spiked with sex pollen at one of President Snows Balls, he and Peeta make a plan to save her from the special services the victors sometimes provide for the capitol. Finnick causes a distraction, while Peeta makes sure to take the reader away to safety, only the plan doesn’t go accordingly, and ends up with a sex crazed reader stuck on a closet.

[mscresta]

omg yaya can u plss write a fic where katniss is sick and peeta takes care of her. Make it all fluffy and warm and sweet

sickness and in health. 🥖

I’m a firm believer that petta loves drawing katniss. So I wanted too add that too this mini fic!!

This fic is kinda short so I’m sorry!! But thank you for the request <3

Tw: Sickness, shitty spelling, mention of chopping ???

Peeta was calmly chopping vegetables for the soup he was making for Katniss. He knew she hated being sick for lots of reasons. She hated feeling weak, especially when Snow was watching.

He made her a good, yet simple soup and brought it over with a smile that made even the girl on fire feel safe. She hated how easily he could make her feel that way, but it was also what she adored about him.

“You didn’t have to do this,” Katniss said, looking up at him.

“Yeah, well… I did, so eat up.” He smiled again and sat down next to her.

Katniss hesitated for a moment before taking a spoonful of the soup. It was warm, soothing, and tasted better than she expected. She glanced at Peeta, who was watching her with a soft, unwavering gaze, his hands folded neatly on the table.

“I hate being like this,” she muttered, setting the spoon down. “It feels like Snow wins every time I’m weak.”

Peeta shook his head. “You’re not weak, Katniss. Being sick doesn’t change what you’ve done or who you are. Snow doesn’t win because you have a cold.”

She opened her mouth to argue but stopped. There was something about the way Peeta said it—calm, steady, like he was absolutely sure of it. He always had a way of grounding her, even when her world felt like it was falling apart.

“You make it sound so simple,” she said, her voice quieter now.

“It’s not simple,” he admitted, leaning back in his chair. “But you’ve got me, and I’m not going anywhere. Not for Snow, not for anyone.

Katniss didn’t respond right away. She didn’t need to. Instead, she picked up the spoon and started eating again, her thoughts swirling. The room felt a little warmer, not just from the soup but from Peeta’s presence.

After a few moments of silence, Peeta reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, crumpled piece of paper. “I was going to save this for later, but…” He smoothed it out and slid it across the table to her.

Katniss raised an eyebrow and took the paper, unfolding it carefully. It was a drawing—a simple sketch of her sitting by the fire, wrapped in a blanket, with a faint smile on her face. She recognized the scene immediately; it was from one of the rare quiet nights they’d shared in the Victor’s Village before everything went to hell.

“I thought you could use a reminder,” Peeta said, his voice soft. “That even in the hardest times, you’re still… you.”

Her throat tightened, and she looked at him, unsure of what to say. Instead of speaking, she reached out and took his hand, holding it tightly.

Peeta smiled again, his fingers curling around hers. “Eat your soup, Katniss,” he said gently. “You’ll need your strength for when we fight back.”

And for the first time in days, she felt a spark of hope.

[trumpkinhotboy]

After, and everything that comes with it

Pairing: Peeta Mellark x f!reader/katniss

Type: Not requested

Warnings: None. Mentions of war, loss, grief, and marriage (lol? but no religion talk!)

Requests are open for twilight, narnia and heartstopper

A/n: It's written in 2nd person pov so you may see it from Katniss' or as if you were in her place.

this little fic might be one of my favorite thing ive ever written and i hope you will love it too xx

(I suggest reading it with a novo amor playlist in the background)

“summary” : i have never written anything about the Hunger Games but i've been thinking about this little scenario, after the war has ended, and our victors can finally breathe and heal.

The war has been over for a few months now. Over is the pain, the betrayals, and the atrocities committed by both the Capitol and the rebels. Now, in their wake only lies the remnants of wounds they inflicted. Some days are heavier. Sometimes, you can barely breathe from the grief's steel grip on your organs. On other days, the pain feels like a distant pinch in your heart, and breathing is effortless. You feel almost totally secure. 

Some part of you may never be able to let go of the debilitating fear of being thrown into an arena again, but with each passing day, you can make it disappear a little more.

The first months felt agonizingly long. Still, winter was over in a sigh of the cold wind. Soon, the sun, the leaves on trees, and the wildflowers bloomed again. To be alone and to be your true self without worrying about putting up an act was a liberation. Nonetheless, it also meant you were to carry the enormity of your grief all on your own.

That is until he came back.

You will always recall that day. You had just gotten back from a walk in the woods. You carried in your basket a few plants and berries you had picked up along the way. With your gaze on the ground, your thoughts waltzed around without any real center point. Until you saw him, he was walking outside his house, about to head back in. You didn't notice letting go of your basket. The sound it made as it crashed on the ground was barely registered, but he heard it. He turned around, his gaze searching for the source of the mysterious sound. You recognized the tense stance of his feet and shoulders. You saw it about a billion times. You would have had the same reaction in his situation. Soon, his eyes found you. Just like that, his body relaxed, his shoulders slumped, and a new expression appeared on his soft features.

"Peeta." 

You sprinted for him, and all the air exited your lungs as you made contact with his body. He caught you as he always did with his strong arms wrapped around you, his hand going up in your hair as he whispered sweet nothings. From that day on, you were no longer alone.

You started having dinner together and went on walks. Peeta taught you how to plant a garden and make the best bread. You taught him how to recognize the good berries and plants in the forest and how to hunt. All things you never had the leisure to do because of the constant fear you lived in. It destroyed any other thought than eating, sleeping, working, and staying alive.

You had known each other in survival. You knew each other as fighters, victors, and players in a game that was so much larger than both of you. You now had the opportunity to know each other simply as you were. 

With each passing moment spent together, it got harder to deny what had already been there. Stolen glances, warmth spreading in your fingers any time your hands touched. Butterflies in your stomach whenever he brought you flowers. You weren't fighting for your life anymore. You had space in your mind and body to fall in love, and you did oh so helplessly and effortlessly.

On one starry night, you shared your first kiss. You were so nervous, but once your lips touched, it all vanished, and you wondered why you had waited so long. Quickly, you decided to move away from your victor's houses. Start again together, farther in the meadow where no nightmares had ever taken shape. 

That's where you awoke a year later. In a cozy little cottage you both built from your beaten hands. Your limbs caught in a tangle of fluffy blankets. The sun shone through your window, illuminating the room with honey-colored sunshine. You lazily patted around in your bed, searching for another warm body. Only to be met with cold emptiness. With a grunt, you turned on your side to face his. Your nose tickled with the touch of a few petals from a little bouquet of wildflowers gathered with a piece of string. A little note accompanied the gift.

'Meet me downstairs whenever you're ready sleepy girl x'

You couldn't hold the tilt of your lips as a smile spread on your face. You quickly got up, put on your nightgown, and headed downstairs with your little bouquet.

You immediately noticed the delicious aroma of freshly baked bread and took a second to appreciate the smell. Once you opened your eyes again, you eyed the table set with your best plates. Which really were old ones from the victors' houses, Peeta and you had handpainted. Another bouquet graced the table, and a pot of coffee was lazily fuming in the morning sun. You heard a few noises from outside and quietly headed for the back door. It was left open, its view set on Peeta's baking oven. He was oblivious to the world around him as he retrieved the current batch from the hot embers. He turned around, still focused on his precious bundles. When he finally noticed you, you were resting on the door with your arms crossed on your chest, a look not very far from adoration on your face.

"Good morning," you said as he flashed you a grin.

"Good morning," he answered with his deep voice.

He walked to you with both loaves of bread wrapped in a cloth. When he was within distance, you wrapped your arms around his neck. 

"And how are you this morning, my favorite baker?" you quietly asked before kissing his lips. What started as a soft kiss was deepened by the frenzy Peeta Mellark seemed to trigger in you even after all this time. You couldn't help it. Anytime you kissed him, you only wanted more. The innocent peck evolved into a kiss that made shivers dance on your skin, and butterflies swarm your belly. Once you separated, he finally answered, a little out of breath, "Definitely much better now."

You stared into each other's eyes and shared another little kiss before he guided you back inside. His hand was warm in yours as you squeezed it lightly. Once sitting down, you immediately filled your cup of coffee and took a big sip of the warm liquid. You uhmed in appreciation while Peeta uncovered both pieces of bread. The smell got richer. Amazingly, you noticed aromas you hadn't smelled in years.

"You made chocolate bread?" Your eyes went up a size as pure surprise illuminated your face.

"I might have," he added with a grin. "Isn't this your favorite?" Pride shone on the young man's face. Peeta Mellark was nothing if not a man who loved to spoil you with gifts. He was incredibly observant and reeled in finding out all the little things you adored to later give them to you.

"In what honor? That must have cost a fortune!" you still stared at him in disbelief. Cacao and chocolate were still rare products to get your hands on, even a year after the war had ended. 

"This is a good occasion, I promise. Do you want to taste it?"

You nodded eagerly and couldn't contain a moan of appreciation from leaving your lips as he hand-fed you a piece of the delicious bread. Peeta certainly was a master at what he was doing. 

"This is delicious. You know I am eternally grateful that you baked this. I don't quite know how you remembered this is my favorite thing in the world, but I really can't help but wonder why you decided to make this?"

He squeezed your hand and let out a shaky breath. Gone was the boyish grin on his lips. 

"This past year has been great for me, for us. I am so happy with what we built together. My only wish is to keep this going." 

You nodded with a small smile, still unsure of where he was getting at. "Through the games, you asked me to 'stay with you'. Until the end, that was the only thing that kept me going through everything we had to endure. I have no family anymore. You are my family now." The games and the war had taken everything from both of you. You suffered unbearable losses. Even if Peeta hadn't been very close to his family, you knew what it had taken from him to lose them. You cuddled his cheek with the palm of your hands. He instinctively leaned into the touch and took a breath before continuing. "I've always answered 'always', and this is a promise I intend to keep for the rest of my life."

He moved down from his chair to get on his knees, a pair of golden bands laid in the bottom of his palm. 

"Peeta," you gasped.

"I know this is not much, this breakfast, the chocolate bread, this little cottage of ours. I know we don't have anyone to celebrate with us, but it doesn't matter to me. I want you to be my wife. I want to symbolize our promise and union with these rings. We've been through hell and back. I never thought I could have this life with you. Now that we do, I want to do anything to be as close to you as possible. These rings symbolize our love for each other. It symbolizes how we protect each other and will continue to do so forever. So if you accept it, I would love to give you this ring and be able to call you my wife. My partner. My other half."

Tears rolled down your cheeks. In the last few years, you have been solely living in survival. You were only trying to make it to the next day, trying to make money to buy food and clothes and take care of the ones you loved. Then, it had been the games and the war. Never once could you have imagined being in such a secure and safe place in your life that you could even consider being with someone, even more, marrying them. But this, this life you had been slowly building with Peeta, this haven you were creating, finally allowed you to entertain such things. 

You looked at the man kneeling before you. This man with the purest heart. This man who had stayed kind and generous through it all. This man who felt like sunshine, homecooked meals, and wildflowers was all you would ever need. 

You joined him on the ground, softly wrapping his shaking hands in yours. 

"Will you be my wife? Will you stay with me?" he whispered. 

Tears hung on to the line of his beautiful blond lashes. He was once more offering you everything he was and would ever be. Even after this year spent together and all the previous ones spent protecting each other and clumsily hiding your feelings, he looked so unsure, so vulnerable. Still, his eyes carried so many emotions and love. All for you to cherish and protect for the rest of your life. 

"Always."

[bruisedboys]

reader and peeta showering together after a hard day (just some innocent intimacy nothing suggestive) 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻 love this man sm 😭🤞🏻🤞🏻

!!!!!! thank you for the req angel <3 this inspired me so so much! thanks for kickstarting my writing for peeta era hehe

peeta mellark x fem!reader 16+ please for non-sexual nudity. not really in universe but can read as post mockingjay if you want it to!

Peeta’s sketching on the bed when you come inside. One knee propped up with his back against the wall behind the bed, his sketchbook pressed against his thigh. His golden hair falls over his forehead, messy where he’s been too distracted by his drawing to push it back.

He looks up when you enter, smiling a bruising smile you don’t feel deserving of.

“Hey. Hey, sweetheart.” It’s alarming how quickly he sets aside his book and pencil to reach for you, as if he hadn’t been immersed in his sketching mere seconds ago. “C’mere, I missed you.”

As much as you’d like to be wrapped in his strong arms right now, you’re filthy, and he’s just changed the sheets earlier today.

“I can’t. I’m all dirty, see?” You wiggle your dirt-covered hands at him. You’ve been in the garden all afternoon. Time drifted away from you as you planted a new batch of tomato seeds. By the time you were done, the sun was setting and you hadn’t even realised. Your knees are stained dark brown and you’ve got dirt up to your elbows. “I’ll shower first, then we can cuddle. Sorry, baby.”

Peeta looks decidedly put out. You turn away from him before he can convince you any further, because you know if he looks at you like that for much longer you’ll give in. You pull fresh clothes from your side of the dresser and then move down the hallway to the bathroom.

The showers warming up and you’re starting to undress when Peeta knocks on the door. It’s unlocked, and he doesn’t have to, but he knocks anyway.

“It’s me,” he says. Who else would it be? You think. Silly man. “Can I come in?”

You pull the door open for him instead of answering. You’re halfway out of your clothes but it doesn’t phase him. Sure, he looks, but not for long, and not in a way that would suggest anything other than affection.

“Hey,” he says. He pushes the door closed behind him. The shower runs in the background, a peaceful thrum. “Do you mind if I join you? You can say no.”

You huff a soft laugh. He should know by now that saying no to him is a near impossible feat. “Yeah, of course. I don’t mind.”

You finish undressing quickly, eager to be clean and warm. Peeta leaves to get fresh towels while you hop in under the hot spray. The majority of the dirt on your skin has been rinsed by the time he gets back. You hear him moving around the bathroom for a minute or so before he pulls the shower curtain aside. You let him in, moving aside to make space for him. It’s tight, but it’s not uncomfortable. Weirdly, it’s almost a perfect fit for the two of you.

Peeta moves under the shower head and the water quickly drenches one half of his hair and one of his shoulders. His big hand slides over your hip and he carefully moves you into a position where you’ve both got equal spray.

“Hi,” he says, smiling. He’s so close you could count his freckles, each light brown spot scattered across his collarbones.

“Hello,” you say back. His thumb rubs your hipbone, up down, up down. “Is it too warm?”

“No, it’s perfect.”

You smile and touch your palm to his cheek. “You okay?” You’re not asking because he seems out of sorts. You’re asking because you want to know, and if he’s not he’ll tell you. He does the same for you. It’s just how you love each other.

Peeta nods. “Yeah, I’m okay. How did your gardening go?”

You beam. You love that he cares about what you care about. “Good. We’ll have tomatoes growing out of our ears by summer, I think.”

Peeta laughs. It’s a brilliant sound that bounces off the shower walls and warms your chest. “Awesome,” he grins. Then, “Hey, you’ve got dirt under your ear.” He reaches behind you to grab the flannel hanging on the shower caddy. “Look that way for me?”

He holds you still with a hand at your jaw and rubs the dirt from your skin so gently you barely feel it. His touch is like a magnet — you’re drawn to it over and over again, no matter how generously he gives it to you. When he asks if he can wash your hair, you’d be crazy if you said no.

“Yeah, please,” you tell him, past caring how desperate and needing of his touch and love you are. He knows, anyway.

Peeta turns you by the hips so your back is to him, then gently tilts your head backwards. You hand him your shampoo and he squeezes a dollop onto his hands, rubbing his palms together before spreading the bubbles over the top of your head. He’s very, very gentle with it, much more than you’ve ever been, massaging the soapy, sweet-smelling bubbles into your hair, fingers rubbing circles onto your scalp. His dedicated touch, along with the gentle thrum and warmth of the shower spray, is enough to almost put you to sleep.

“Okay, you can rinse now,” Peeta speaks up. His tone is soft and you suspect he’s noticed your sleepiness. He gets very soft with you when you’re tired. “Shut your eyes, please.”

You do as he says and he directs you under the spray. He holds a hand over your forehead like a barrier so the bubbles can’t escape and sneak into your closed eyes. The action in itself makes your chest ache. He cares more than you could ever comprehend.

When he’s done rinsing you finish scrubbing the dirt from your knees, your elbows. Peeta washes his own hair, and you help him rinse the same way he did for you.

“Thank you, angel,” he says. Warm water and soapy bubbles stream over his shoulders, his neck. His eyelashes are wet, clinging to each other in sparkly triangles. He dips down and kisses your shoulder, then your cheek. “Love you.”

You beam. You love him more than anything. You get on your toes to kiss him properly, a warm press of your mouth on his, a promise for more of the same later, when you’re clean and dry and fed. “Love you too, Peeta.”

-

thank you for reading! please consider reblogging if u enjoyed 🤍

[lesbianjackies]

🍞peeta mellark masterlist🍞

key: ❤︎︎ - fluff, ☁︎︎ - angst, ★ - smut

coming soon!

[dixonsbrat]

ᰔ 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝!𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐚 𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐲 ᰔ

[xspeter]

do yall ever think about the jaw dropping fics that are probably sitting collecting dust in someone’s drafts rn.

[msmk11]

peeta mellark masterlist ❂

-one shots-

nothing here yet!

-head cannons-

nothing here yet!

-series-

nothing here yet!

-blurbs-

❂ I Made You a Pie

[sameschmidtdiffname]

I personally choose to believe that the Hunger Games series is supposed to be Katniss's memoir/way of setting the record straight about her and her loved ones part in the Games/war. Meaning I think the entire country of New Panem was going into a FIT with every new chapter they read, let alone book. Just imagine the podcasts for a second.

"SO THE STAR-CROSSED LOVERS OF DISTRICT 12."

"YEAH."

"FATED SOULMATES."

"DESTINED TO BE TOGETHER."

"Role model for all of our relationships, I think it's safe to say."

"Mmhmm."

"It was a SURVIVAL STRAT????"

That baby reveal??? Had the country in SHAMBLES when they realized Peeta was lying. Her editors probably told her to just keep that out and she probably just said "why?? I have actual kids now, it's fine." The tabloids are blowing clear the fuck up all day every day. Peeta's hijacking??? People already knew but they didn't know EVERYTHING. God, those podcasts were LIT.

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

would anyone be willing to send a small prompt for v-day? might help my brain to write something small.