#Peeta fluff

[mcsstydia]

Dance with me in the rain - Peeta Mellark

prompt: from these prompts ''I'm right here baby, it's okay'' ''Dance with me in the rain''

pairing: peeta x reader

warnings: nightmares, otherwise only fluff

word count: 1.9k

Masterlist

Peeta and you, you were friends. Well, kind of. You were pretty sure you were in love with him. You weren't as sure regarding his feelings. But you needed him too much, too often, to ruin whatever was going on between you by telling him how you really felt.

What you really felt was electricity whenever he touched you. It was your stomach getting warm and turning at the thought of his lips ever touching yours. It was thinking about him, each and every day, the whole day. It was the desperation of being near him, of having him around, of hearing his laughter and seeing his smile. So you chose the safest way to keep him close: staying friends.

Well, as already mentioned, friends and whatever it was that was going on between the two of you. Because most nights, well, almost every night now, he held you as you went to sleep, and was still there when you woke up, either from nightmares or from the sunrays coming in through your bedroom window.

It had been the same last night. Peeta came over to your house. You opened the door, he took your hand into his warm one, and you went up to your bedroom in silence.

When both of you finally got under the covers was when you really started to talk. In the darkness, in the comfortable silence that came with Peeta's presence, it was alsmot easy talking about what moved your heart the most.

You talked about poverty, about the hunger, Peeta talked about the games. Your problems had decreased ever since Peeta won the games, and you tried to lessen the pains of his memories by drawing circles on his skin when he talked. You held him through his nightmares about the games, he held you through yours about losing him. You never told him exactly about what the darkness of your nightmares consisted of, but you had the vague feeling he knew anyway.

So he held you, this night, as he always did, when you woke up screaming his name frantically. You sat up and your arms flailed around your body, feeling around the matress in panic. Peeta's arms were around you in an instant, stopping your arms from further flapping around. ''I'm right here baby, it's okay.'', he whispered into your hair, and pressed a soft kiss against your temple.

Your fingers tightly warpped around the arm that was draped acrossd your upper body as Peeta rocked you back and forth. His chest pressed into your back as a stream of silent tears flowed down your face. The arm that wasn't wrapped up between your fingers moved soothingly through your hair. Peeta's fingers solved and created knots between your hair strands but whatever he did, it did its part in calming you down, even if it was just the lightest bit.

As your body slowly recovered from the violent shivers that shook it, Peeta pulled you closer, so you leaned fully into him. What had he called you? Baby? Since when did he do that? You tried recalling a time when he had ever said that to you, and you failed. Had he done it accidentally? Where did this come from? What did it mean?

Even now, his lips lingered in your hair, touching your head without pressing them into your skin. The sound of rain splattering against your window began filling the silence of the room. Peeta suddenly shifted behind you, and you thought you did something to ruin it, to make him want to run. Had he realised what he had called you? Had he finally figured out that you were in love with him?

Your heart rate sped up as the thoughts raced around in your head. But instead of getting up and leaving, he shifted his body so his legs were around your body, and tried to catch your gaze. His arms never leaving their embrace around your upper body. You felt completely engulfed by him, you felt safe. You finally caught his eyes, making the corners of his lips twitch into a smile.

''Dance with me in the rain,'', he whispered. To your surprise, he pressed another light kiss onto the skin of your upper arm, and then leaned his head onto your arm, searching your eyes for an answer. In turn, you searched his eyes for a clue of whether he was joking around or whether he really meant it.

Peeta must have sensed your doubts, because he repeated his request. ''I mean it,'', he said, wiping a tear from your cheek and then tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. ''C'mon, let's go outside and dance.'' The tears did not stop filling your eyes when you answered. ''I can't dance.'', you whispered back, hesitant.

A small chuckle escaped Peeta's lips as he rubbed one of his hands down your back. ''Of course you can,''. Slowly, he got up. He didn't let go of you, always touching some part of your body, always keeping you close. As he stood in front of your bed, he held both of your hands. ''C'mon, baby.''

There it was again. Baby. This time it was for sure no accident. It couldn't have been. You let him tug at your hands and pull you out of bed. As you let him pull you to stand, you stood directly in front of him. He closed his arms around you again, and your head rested on his chest in comfort.

When he broke your hug, he did it gently, still never fully removing his touch from you. Downstairs, you put on your shoes. Peeta opened te front door and a shower of rain greeted you, accompanied by the smell of it you adored so much.

Peeta took the first step outside, his hand still in yours. He looked back at you to catch your gaze, encouraging you to follow him. Rain dops were already collecting in his hair, making his blond hair look slightly darker than it was.

Finally, you could feel yourself beginning to smile and you stepped out of the comfort of your home into the rain. Peeta pulled the both of you onto the empty and deserted street. He stopped when you were right in the middle of it, then he took both of your hands into his and pulled your body close to his.

One of his hands grabbed yours firmly, the other landed on your waist. You placed your free hand onto his shoulder, then also leaned your chin upon it. Peeta took the lead, if you could call it that, and swayed both of your bodies from side to side.

The rain fell down onto you, wettening your hair, your clothes, your skin, until you were soaked to the bone. ''What are your nightmares about?'' Peeta suddenly asked, still swaying from side to side. You lifted your chin from its position on Peeta's shoulder to be able to look him in the eyes, contemplating about telling him the truth.

The look in his eyes suddenly told you that you could. ''About losing you,''. Something changed in his expression, but you couldn't quite decipher it. He freed the hand that was clasped in yours and placed it in the back of your neck. He pulled your head into his chest and placed countless kisses on the side of your head, into your hair, onto your temple and your forehead.

Then silence overtook you again, though Peeta was still swaying your bodies from left to right. ''Aren't you gonna ask me what mine are about?'', he whispered into the wet locks of your hair, then placing another kiss into them. His hand was still placed on your neck when you pulled back, just far enough so you could look at him again.

You did so tentatively, still not knowing what your confession did to him. A glint of amusement glistened in his eyes, yet you could not make out why. ''They're about the games.'', you stated, matter-of-factly. His hand came to rest at the side of your face, and you leaned into it out of habit.

''Sometimes, yes,'', he began, never once breaking eye contact when speaking. ''Most of the times, they are about losing you.'' The statement surprised you to say the least, and for a moment you felt dizzy. Your eyebrows rose up in genuine confusion as you stammered for an appropriate answer. ''Wha-.. what? I mean... what? Really?'', you sounded helpless, stupid even. Nonetheless, whatever you stammered, it made another chuckle escape Peeta's lips, his fingers absentmindedly caressing the skin of your cheek.

''Did you not know?'', he asked, smiling. Your confusion and lack of answer made his smile vanish from his face, and his eyebrows drew together in concern. ''Seriously, did you not know?'', he pressed. ''No,'' you asnwered silently, but really, how could you have?

You were about to argue, ask him where he had given you signs, where he had made it obvious, when he cupped both of your cheeks into his hands, as if to shake some sense into you. ''It doesn't matter now,'', he whispered, staring so deeply into your eyes you thought he wanted to read your mind.

''I am desperately in love with you,'', he confessed, shocking you again, your face a clear display of it. ''So much that I cannot stand it when you are not with me, not talking to me, not by my side in any way.'', he continued. Your heart skipped a beat, or two, you didn't know how many, really. Yet you didn't, couldn't, answer him.

''Can you say something?'', he asked, desperate at your lack of reaction other than utter confusion. ''I..'', you began, not knowing why you couldn't voice your feelings. The rain still poured down on your bodies, wettening your faces to a point where water was dripping down your cheeks, your lips, your chins.

Lips. Peeta's lips. You stared at them, then back into his eyes. Then something overtook you, you gripped Peeta by his shirt and pulled him into you, pressing your lips onto his in one swift move. You grasped at his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer. Something clicked in him and he tried to pull you closer as well, pressing his lips onto yours with an urge you could not describe. His lips were wet from the rain but still warm.

Your chests heaved heavily with your breaths as you kissed and kissed as though you thought you could never kiss again. One of his hands left your cheeks and he draped it across your back, to keep you as close as possible when your lips finally stopped moving against one another. He leaned his forehead against yours, all parts of your bodies still touching except of your lips.

''I love you,'', you chuckled, making a smile spread across his lips. You have never been as good with words as Peeta was, but you had to let him know either way. ''That's why you are the only one who can calm me down after a nightmare, because it is only you I care about. It is you I love, you whom I cannot spend a day thinking about, spend a day living without.'', you finally confessed.

The smile did not leave Peeta's lips after that. ''I love you too,'', he answered. ''So much.'', he continued, then leaned down to place a delicate on your lips.

Afterwards, you went to Peeta's house, changed into dry clothes, and cuddled up in warm blankets. Peeta held you, and he kissed you, and it was the first night the both of you spent without any nightmares.

[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. 

[coca-lastic]

How would the THG male characters make the tiktok trend about ranking kisses?

Characters: Finnick Odair, Corionalus Snow, Peeta Mellark.

If you don't know what trend i'm talking about, click here <3.

My first lenguage Is not English btw.

Modern AU.

I think that if Finnick lived in a world like ours, he wouldn't be that kind of person who uses social media a lot, I think he would preserve his love for nature, especially the sea, so he wouldn't find out about this type of trends, you are the one who should ask if you can do it together.

Once you ask him and let him know the trend, he would gladly agree, he is too sweet, he simply saw that it was an activity as a couple, kisses, laughter, and said "yes"

Noooow, his ranking:

1. Lip kiss: Have you seen this man? He is the sweetest, kindest and most loving person there is, so a kiss on the lips would be his favorite kiss. He loves to kiss you on the lips at all times and looks for an excuse to do it even in the most unexpected moment, but if there is something he loves most it is that you take the initiative, that makes him feel loved and cared for.

2. Forehead kiss: He likes it because he considers it something cute and a sign of care. According to him, it is a way of consoling and giving comfort, a way of saying "I'm here for you but you have your space."

3. Check kiss: He loves to use it as a way of saying "hi" or "bye", he likes it when you do it to him and he likes it when he does it to you. "It's simple, but it's important," he says.

4. Top of the head kiss: He likes it more when you do it to him than when he does it to you, because yes, it's cute to kiss you in the middle of all your hair, but when you do it to him, OH GOD. He loves that because that almost always comes accompanied by a lot of cuddles and cuddles, scratches and caresses in his hair and a lot of kisses there, and that relaxes him a lot, he loves those little touches.

5. Nose kiss: It's funny, a kind of funny that makes you laugh, you also like it because it's tender, but at the same time it's fast, you don't need much time to do this type of "kiss", just a small approach and the magic It is done.

6. Neck kiss: The reason why this is not higher is because he feels that they are necessary for specific moments, I mean he is not going to use them unless he wants something, but if he not dislikes the sensation, he likes it and even more so when the room is hotter than usual and you are on top of him. BUT he doesn't mind if you do it at any time.

7. Butterfly kiss: It's a bit like the nose kiss, he likes it because it makes him laugh, but he doesn't like it as much as the nose kiss. Although, the advantage of doing this kiss is that he loves seeing the color of your eyes, and you love his.

8. Air kiss: "I'd rather you kiss me on the lips and that's it, but you look cute when you do that."

9. Hand kiss: It's not a common thing in your two's relationship, so it's not something he loves very much, but he values any kind of kiss, so obviously a kiss on the hand will also make him smile.

10. Bite kiss: He doesn't even do it, you just bit him a little because it appeared in the filter and he smiled, but he doesn't totally like it.

I admit, I'm not a fan of Corio, but I think he's soooo handsome, I just can't forget his future stuff.

But it's all for the girls. Anyway, I think Corio would have social networks and use them, but he would not be the guy who would participate in trends, I don't even think those things appear in his fyp, but if you ask him, he will be totally willing.

In my opinion, Corionalus, unlike Finnick, is a spicy boy, so I think the kisses he likes would be more double meanings, so this part may be a little suggestive.

And, his ranking goes like this:

1. French kiss: I think that for this and the kiss neck it was a complicated battle, but what could be more pleasant than a French kiss? He likes the feeling of mixing, the unification of the voices and tonges of the two of you.

2. Neck kiss: And here it is, almost number one but it was number two. I have a feeling that he likes to do it, to do it to you, because I think it would be a song for him to hear your voice telling him that you like his kisses, so he would go on and on and on, so a well-deserved 2nd place.

3. Lip kiss: It's the classic, the boy may have his hot side but I have a feeling that he also likes the little moments in which you go to an expensive restaurant and kiss each other on the lips while the moon and stars watch you two. Small kisses while you two laugh, or while you talk, perhaps it is not the first place in the ranking but those moments and those kisses are important for him.

4. Earlobe kiss: And we return to that usual side, he likes to hear your voice close to his ear, saying sweet little things. He likes the mix of emotions and the way both of your bodies react.

5. Bite kiss: It depends a lot on what type of bite it is, sometimes you two do it as a joke to scare or annoy the other, but if you do it after a French kiss and in specific areas it totally moves up the ranks.

6: Forehead kiss: Making sure his girl feels loved is important too, so he would do whatever type of kiss you like. But this one in particular he considers very sweet, he likes to do it to you and he likes it when you do it to him, he loves it when one of the two of you does it after a long night or after a moment of stress.

7. Top of the head kiss: The level of his affection for this kiss is a little similar to the previous one, the only reason this is lower in the ranking is because he can't feel your skin or your lips touching his skin as much, so 7 is the right place.

8. Hand kiss: He's done it to you a few times but not enough to love the gesture, it just seems elegant to him.

9. Check kiss: Once again, if you want it he will give it to you, but it doesn't seem like a big deal to him.

10: Butterfly kiss: "what Is this shit?"

MY BABY PEETA. Ok ok ok, if Peeta lived in our world his tiktok would be full of random things, but yes, things about couples would appear, so maybe he would be the one asking you to make some trend, maybe it would be you, it doesn't matter, he will always will be willing to do them.

I think that, like Finnick, he is a boy who likes the sweetness of a relationship more, a person who values small signs of affection, so his ranking would be like this:

1. Check kiss: This is because as I said previously he is a person who values even the smallest things, mine needs a long kiss to be happy. Also, when you kiss him on the cheek and smile at him I suspect he would blush and smile like a fool.

2. Lip kiss: Didn't you see him kissing Katniss? This guy knows how to kiss and he loves it, AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA, he would just come up to you and ask if you could give him a kiss.

3. Earlobe kiss: Whatever the intencion is, he likes it, it seems like a sign of affection in which he can hear your silly giggle and at the same time receive affection.

4. Forehead kiss: He sees that kiss as tender, so kind, so loving. He would probably enjoy giving them to you, he would like to see you close your eyes briefly and give you a little kiss there, it makes him happy.

5. French kiss: I feel like it would take you two a while to do it, because I have a feeling that Peeta would prefer to slow down, appreciate each moment and get used to your affection. But when they get to this point he loves it, he loves doing it but he doesn't do it so often so as not to take away that special effect.

6. Butterfly kiss: "Awww, that's cute, you look cute".

7. Top of the head kiss: Maybe after help you with your hair or when you are already in bed, but it is not that common, although that does not mean that he does not like it.

8. Spiderman kiss: "That's very complicated, better just give me a kiss." And he is right, because it is not a bad position but it is not the most comfortable for the two of you.

9: Nose kiss: Find it cute, but that's all :(

10. Air kiss: Because he prefers that you give him a kiss, but if for some extra mega hyper ultra important reason you can't, he might accept it.

My mom just hit me because I told her that she always gets upset, so she got upset and hit me 😀👍🏼 I want to kill myself haha

[soulofapatrick]

Steadfast Sanctuary - Peeta Mellark x Female Reader 

Summary: You have a nightmare and Peeta is there to help you through it

Words: 1.8k

Y/N’s POV

The arena unfurls before me like a macabre canvas, a haunting tapestry of memories etched in pain and survival. The 75th Hunger Games, that unforgiving stage that nearly claimed my existence, manifests once again in vivid hues. My fingers tighten around a makeshift blade, a crude and desperate attempt at defence, carved from a jagged shard of metal.

Cannons echo in the distance, a grim symphony marking the fate of those who dared to seize resources from the cornucopia. Each reverberation pounds against my chest, the rhythmic thud of a heart burdened with the imminent spectre of doom. I falter at the edge of a stagnant pond, its waters a murky mirror reflecting the desolation that surrounds me. The feeble rays of light filtering through the canopy paint a sickly sheen upon its surface.

In an eerie dance, the water coils and rises, a grotesque ballet choreographed by unseen forces. Twisting tendrils form macabre visages, grotesque echoes of fallen tributes—faces contorted in anguish and despair. Their silent screams pierce the air, an icy grip seizing my veins with terror. Desperation propels me to turn away, to flee this haunting spectacle, yet my feet betray me, ensnared in the nightmare's merciless hold.

From the depths emerges a spectral hand, skeletal and ethereal, reaching out with phantom fingers extended—an invitation or a warning, I cannot discern. Its silent plea beckons, a macabre summons to join the chorus of the departed. Horror seizes my senses, a scream clawing its way from the depths of my throat, a cacophony echoing through the desolate terrain.

Abruptly, I’m torn from the clutches of that harrowing vision, gasping for air, drenched in cold sweat. Reality feels tenuous, a delicate thread woven between the tendrils of the dream and the anchor of the present. Peeta's voice pierces through the fog, a distant lighthouse guiding me back to the shores of wakefulness. Struggling against the dream's residue, I attempt to tether myself to the present, to sever the haunting tendrils that cling mercilessly to my senses.

“Hey, it’s alright. You’re safe,” Peeta’s voice, a soothing melody, washes over me. His touch is gentle as he brushes strands of hair from my forehead, a gesture both comforting and grounding. I struggle to anchor myself in the present, to shake off the lingering tendrils to that haunting dreams. 

My fingers instinctively seek purchase, clutching at Peeta’s arm as if its the sole lifeline tethering me to reality. His presence is a steadfast anchor amidst the storm of lingering terror. With each word, his voice seems to carve a path through the fog, gradually guiding me away from the haunting remnants of the dreadful dream. 

Peeta responds to my struggle with unwavering patience, coaxing me gently to sit upright. The coolness of the room contrasts sharply with the lingering hear of the nightmare, but his touch is a comforting warmth against my skin. His steady guidance helps regulate my breathing, his had a reassuring weight on my back, rising and falling in rhythm with erratic gasps for air. 

As I attempt to wrestle free from the tendrils of fear that cow around my consciousness, Peeta’s calm presence remains a beacon of solace. His gaze, a soft azure amidst the shadows, holds a silent promise of safety and understanding. 

“Hey, baby, focus on your breath,” He murmurs, his voice a soothing whisper against the chaos in my mind. His hand rests over mine, guiding it gently to his chest, urging me to feel the steady thud of his heart. I press my palm against the comforting rhythm, seeking refuge in the tangible assurance of his existence, a living testament to the present. 

In synchrony with his heartbeat, I attempt to steady my own tumultuous rhythm, finding solace in the simple act of feeling his pulse beneath my palm. Peeta's unwavering presence and the reassuring cadence of his heart serve as a lifeline, gently guiding me back to the calm shores of wakefulness.

Peeta makes a move to rise, perhaps intending to give me space or fetch something to soothe the residual tremors of the nightmare, but a sudden surge of panic grips me. Instinctively, I tug at his arm, a silent plea not to leave my side. He hesitates, his eyes reflecting concern and empathy, before heading my unspoken request. 

As Peeta hesitates in response to my unspoken plea, I feel a surge of panic, a silent but urgent need for him to stay. His eyes, pools of concern and empathy, seem to comprehend he unspoken turmoil within me. Without a word, his decision is made. With a tender understanding, Peeta shuffles closer, his movements deliberate yet gentle, as though he’s afraid I might break. He eases into the bed beside me, our bodies naturally gravitating towards each other. There’s a subtle, unspoken language in the way we fit together, an effortless dance of limbs finding their perfect place.

As he envelops me in his embrace, I'm cocooned in a warmth that transcends the physical. His arms, a fortress of safety, draw me closer, and I instinctively respond, seeking solace in the proximity of his comforting presence. The faint scent of freshly baked bread still lingers on his skin, a familiar fragrance that intertwines with the essence of safety and home. His breath, a gentle rhythm against my hair, mirrors the steadiness of his heartbeat, both a symphony of reassurance.

In this shared intimacy, I'm reminded of the depth of emotions I harbour for Peeta. The way his mere presence can quell the tempest raging within me reignites a myriad of feelings—gratitude, affection, and a love that had never truly faded, only lay dormant beneath the surface. As we squeeze closer together, his closeness sparks a familiar warmth within me, reigniting a flame that had never truly extinguished. The subtle brush of his skin against mine, the synchronised rise and fall of our breaths, kindles a fire of emotion—a reminder of the bond we share, resilient in the face of trials and nightmares.

Peeta's face, bathed in the soft glow of the room, holds an ethereal quality, a blend of concern and tender reassurance. Without conscious thought, I find myself gently pulling back, yearning to see the familiar contours of his features—the sincerity in his eyes and that gentle curve of his lips. 

As I meet his gaze, his eyes, a reflection of concern and unwavering support, seem to hold an unspoken understanding. There's a magnetic pull drawing me to him, an inexplicable need to bridge the gap between us, to feel the warmth of his skin beneath my touch. 

My hand rises, guided by an instinct I can't fully comprehend, and caresses the softness of his cheek. His skin is warm beneath my fingertips, a canvas that has weathered its own storms, yet bears a resilience that captivates me. The gentle brush of my thumb over his bottom lip elicits a hitch in his breath, a subtle reaction that sends a shiver through me, awakening a stirring within. Something stirs deep within my chest at the vulnerable tenderness reflected in his eyes. His breath, caught in a moment of anticipation, hangs between us, charged with unspoken emotions. The way his gaze softens, the way his breath hitches at my touch—it's as if the connection between us hums with an unspoken language, a dance of emotions that transcends words.

In the delicate interlude between us, a silent understanding blossoms, an unspoken dialogue that resonates deeper than words could convey. The air crackles with anticipation, a palpable tension that hangs between our shared gaze and the tender brush of my thumb against his lips. 

Without warning, Peeta leans in, a gentle yet decisive movement that bridges the last remaining space between us. His lips meet mine in a soft, tender kiss—a gesture brimming with a depth of emotion that transcends the physical realm. It’s a caress, a whisper of reassurance, and an affirmation of something profound that stirs between us. The touch of his lips against mine is a gentle awakening, a surge of emotions that floods my senses. His kiss feels like a delicate embrace, a promise of unwavering support and affection. It's a tender affirmation that I am something valuable, something to be cherished and loved, sparking a warmth that radiates from the depths of my being. 

His hands find their place with a tender certainty, one cradling the curve of my cheek with a tenderness that belies the rough calluses and strength beneath. The other settles at the small of my back, a grounding touch that speaks volumes of protection and stability. Despite the softness of his touch, there's a subtle roughness to his hands, a testament to the hardships endured—a reminder of his resilience and determination. 

As our kiss lingers, the warmth of his touch and the gentle pressure of his lips convey a myriad of unspoken sentiments. It's an embrace of shared solace, an unspoken promise of standing together amidst the turmoil. In this intimate connection, I feel not just desired but truly seen—a profound validation that ignites a longing for more, a yearning to deepen this unspoken bond that seems to resonate within every fibre of our beings. \

As our kiss softens into a tender embrace, Peeta draws me closer, enveloping me in the warmth of his arms. I lean into the comforting stronghold of his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat against my cheek—a rhythmic reassurance that anchors me in the present moment.

He presses a soft, lingering kiss to my forehead, a gentle caress that speeds volumes of his unwavering care and affection. It's a silent vow etched in that tender gesture—a promise of steadfast support and enduring presence in the face of whatever challenges lie ahead. With a whisper barely audible, he reassures me, "I'll always be here, for you." His words carry the weight of a solemn pledge, resonating with a depth of sincerity that brings solace to the uncertainties that once lingered. 

In the cocoon of his embrace, I find a sanctuary, a haven where vulnerabilities are embraced and fears are gently soothed. The reassurance in his words echoes a profound truth—a comforting reminder that amidst the chaos of our world, I have found a sanctuary in his unwavering presence, a safe harbour in the tempest.

Peeta's promise lingers in the air, a beacon of unwavering support that alleviates the shadows of doubt. In this tender moment, wrapped in the shelter of his arms, I feel a renewed sense of strength and an unspoken resolve to face whatever trials await—knowing that his steadfast devotion will always be a guiding light through the darkest of times.

The Hunger Games Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

[plutodexay]

Can I ask for a Peeta blurb? Something cute and sweet??

first time writing for the original baby girl

Peeta surprising reader! Short blurb!

It had been a long and stressful day full of twists and turns that left you angry every time. You could feel the angst leaving your body as you walked up to the front door, knowing full well Peeta would be behind it waiting to help the stress melt away by any means necessary.

Yet when you pushed the heavy door in he was nowhere to be seen. Not in his usual evening spot waiting for you to come home, even if he would never admit that is what he does, he was just not there. With a sigh you turned to close the door behind you, dropping your bags without much concern, all of your thoughts turning to try and find your boyfriend.

"Peeta?" Words echoed in the quiet room.

"In here honey!" Following his words you made your way into the kitchen, anxious to see what you would find turning the corner.

Once you made it in the room you saw him, black apron covered in flour handprints and hair sticking up in all different directions. He had a bright smile on his face as always, looking to you with love and amazment on his face. It dropped momentairly when he saw the sour look on your face and drooped shoulders. In response he moved to the side, giving you a full view of the counter.

"It's not done but tada!" His voice full of excitment and complimented with the overdramtic jazz hands he was trying to do.

On the counter was a cake, small in size but the rainbow of colors made it look much bigger, enveloping the space around it. You could tell it wasn't done, as the red had been almost left off and the bowl of color sat next to it. There were countless piping bags scattered around the table, all resting on paper towels to not make a mess.

"You made a cake?" There was amusment in your voice as you went to look closer.

"I made you a cake!" He emphized the 'you' part of his words, moving to stand right behind you as you looked at his creation.

He wrapped his hands around your waist as your eyes scanned over every color, making small comments on the twisting designs Peeta had put into it. He let you ask every question your mind could come up with about the cake, for about five minutes before kicking you out of the way, claiming the icing was going to go bad.

"You can watch me if you want" He whispered, more to himself as you went to walk out of the room.

With his words of techincal encourgment you did stand and watch, watched as his eyes furrowed in focus and how he shifted on his feet when the color would touch the cake, hand slow paced. It was a site you had never seen before yet one that made the rest of the world disappear.

[darknight3904]

It Burns For You

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: ɪɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏʀʏᴏ ɢʀᴏᴡ ᴜᴘ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀᴘɪᴛᴏʟ ᴀɴᴅ ��ɴᴇ ᴅᴀʏ ᴄʀᴏꜱꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɴᴇꜱ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅꜱ

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: ɴᴏɴᴇ, ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ. ᴏᴏᴄ ᴄᴏʀʏᴏ, ʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴛᴏᴛᴀʟʟʏ ʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ʜᴇᴇʟꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ. ᴄʜᴇᴄᴋ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ!

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ

Coriolanus is 12 when he sees you for the first time. Your red uniform is pressed perfectly and your school bag looks brand new. Your lunch consisted of a hearty-looking sandwich with roast beef and lettuce and a container of fresh fruit that had his mouth-watering.

"Do you want a piece? Our maid always packs too much and I can never finish it. You can have some if you want." Your voice fills his ears

A delicate-looking hand is holding a juicy-looking strawberry in front of him. He reaches for it and it takes every ounce of self-control he has not to shove it in his mouth. Instead, he takes a small bite and thanks you for sharing.

"Don't you have a lunch today?" You ask

He doesn't. The school had said they would start supplying the students with lunches soon but how soon? Coriolanus had already been attending for a number of years and still nothing.

"I already ate it." He lied

"You're still hungry though. You can have the rest." You say with a smile as you push your fruit bowl to him.

"Is it your first day?" He asks

"Yes, my mother thought that my governess wasn't doing a good job so she had my father enroll me here. I miss being at home with my new kitten though. She has long white hair and she is the cutest thing in the whole world." You said

Coriolanus can't believe that you had your own governess, let alone a pet to call your own. He later learns from Arachne that your father became incredibly rich by manufacturing weaponry for the Capitol. Despite your inherent wealth, you've never flashed it around him.

You and Coriolanus are 15 when you discover all the lies he tells at school about his family. He had left his uniform jacket behind on his chair and you got his home address from Sejanus, meaning to give it back so he'd have it for tomorrow. Instead, you had discovered the Snow's decrepit-looking building and barely functioning penthouse. Coriolanus' heart nearly stops when he emerges from his room to see you and his Grandma'am sitting together as she compliments your shoes.

"What are you doing here?" He asks, ready for your judgment and teasing words

"I wanted to return your jacket, Coryo. You'll need it for tomorrow."

The red of the jacket in your arms matches his face as he ushers you to the door, trying to hide the fact that Tigris was preparing cabbage in the kitchen that would undoubtedly stink the entire place up with the scent of the Snow's poverty.

"Stop rushing me, your cousin invited me to stay for dinner." You say trying to stop the way he is leading you to the door.

"You don't want what she is making. Tigris is a terrible cook." He said

Tigris lets out a shout of disagreement from the stove and Coriolanus ignores it.

"How about, I go out and get something to add to the meal Tigris is cooking, and by the time I get back you change your attitude about me staying for dinner Coryo. "

And with that, you walk out the door and slam it in his face. He's rather stunned at your declaration but knows you're serious. He rushes around their home, trying to clean up what he can while Tigris laughs at his frantic motions. Then, just as he was debating whether or not he wanted to change out of his uniform, you return from your short trip to the closest market.

"I wasn't sure what Tigris is cooking so I got a couple of things." You say placing the bags on the table.

Coriolanus is sure you spent a fortune on what is in these bags. Fresh bread accompanied by a sickly sweet fruit spread and a block of butter sits in one while the other holds something else in a brown box. You take your seat next to him at the ugly little table he has eaten too many meals at and cut a piece of the bread for Grandma'am. He is worried when Tigris starts portioning out the cabbage she cooked on the stove. Coriolanus watches your expression as you take a bite but nothing that he expected happens. You don't knit your brows in disgust or get up to leave and take your fresh bread and mysterious box with you. Instead, you go back for a second bite and compliment what Tigris has done with the food.

He sits stiffly next to you and can barely accept the slice of bread you offer him. You excuse yourself to use the bathroom and Tigris reaches across the table and pinches his shoulder.

"Stop sitting like that, Coryo!" She scolds

"Like what?" He asks,aware that Tigris meant how oddly straight his back was.

"You're making her uncomfortable. You've been friends with her for years she isn't worried about what our home looks like." Tigris says

"She might not be but what happens when she goes to school tomorrow and talks?" He asks

He shuts up when he hears the sound of the bathroom door opening again.

"That was lovely Tigris. I've never had anything like it, I'll have to invite you all to my own home for dinner sometime. Our cook makes these pastries that are simply wonderful. They even get sold at local markets, which leads to this..."

His eyes widen when you finally unveil what was hiding in that second bag. A dozen expensive looking deserts sit in the brown box you brought, each one decorated differently.

"I hope I picked something everyone would like. I know Coryo mentioned that Grandma'am liked chocolate so I picked this one just for her."

Coriolanus feels a wide smile stretch across his face as you pass out your little desserts. His worries about you gossiping to their peers fade from view as he bites into what he thinks is a croissant. You laugh at his reaction and toss a napkin at his face which is most likely covered in the gooey fruit filling that was in his pastry.

He walks you back to your home that night and thanks you for making his night. He can't remember the last time Grandma'am had smiled from eating chocolate. You accept his thanks and gently tell him that he shouldn't be ashamed about his financial situation. He never gets to disagree with you though because a soft kiss is pressed to his lips followed by a rushed,

"Goodnight, Coryo! Thanks for the cabbage!"

He walks back to his own home with a jump in his step. Thoughts of you consume him as he smiles to himself, proud his first kiss was shared with you. He feels his heart burn with something that felt like it was going to come up and out his mouth as he finally made it back to his room, you officially had him wrapped around your finger.

Your room is flooded with sunlight the first time Coriolanus sees it. A soft, silky-looking bed spread sits atop one of the biggest beds he has seen as you beckon to your cat, Maisy to come and say hello to him. He looks at the oversized wooden dresser that sits against one wall. He sees the photograph of him and you that was taken a few weeks ago at your 17th birthday party nestled among little knickknacks. Books Coriolanus has never even heard of line your shelves as he you place a record on the player that sits on your desk. Soft sounds of a piano and the words from an unnamed singer fill your gorgeous room as he turns to you.

"Do you want to dance?" He finds himself asking

You accept and he leads you or well tries to. You're rather stiff and it turns out dancing is harder than it looks because he isn't any good at it either. You laugh as he trips over his feet and end up falling with him, landing on the ground entangled in each other. Your fingers brush his curls from his eyes as his nose brushes yours.

"What're you doing?" You ask quietly

"Nothing." He responds, his eyes flicking to your lips.

The moment his lips touch yours, a tingle shoots down his spine. This is a real kiss, not what you gave him when you were both 15. He cups your face and your hands are tangled in his hair as he deepens it. He felt his head spin as you moved against him, almost as if you wanted him to swallow you whole right here on your bedroom floor. A giddy feeling swelled in his chest when he pulled away for air.

"Coryo...what was that?" You ask

"I thought you'd know by now. That was a kiss, darling." He laughed brushing his thumb across your lip

"I know that...but why'd you give me one?" You ask

"Don't you know?" He smiles and places a chaste kiss on your lips "My heart, it burns for you, it always has."

Part 2 is out now!

Series Masterlist

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

a darling and a virgin | f. odair

masterlist

summary: you are a victor from district four, having just ended your first victory tour. after being confronted by president snow, you have no choice but to lose your virginity. luckily, your previous mentor is willing to provide some guidance.

pairing: finnick odair x reader

warnings: mentions of forced prostitution, angst, gentle smut, loss of virginity, fingering, lots of consent, praise, happy but also unhappy ending??, reader takes contraceptives.

notes: i’ve recently found that i’m incapable of writing short smut one shots so… i’m sorry y’all. love describing every detail too much.

word count: 6.8k

Your hands were clasped over the balcony railing of the penthouse you were spending the night in, the vibrant artificial lights of the Capitol burning your retinas as you overlooked the city. You had finally completed your first Victory Tour and were offered one more night in the Capitol to enjoy its ‘luxury’ and ‘generosity’ before returning to District Four in the morning.

For the past two weeks, you had read fabricated speeches to each District, resurfacing both your trauma from the Games and the families of the tributes you had murdered in the arena. The toll it was taking on you was heavy, but you managed to put on a splitting grin for every interview, speech, and disturbing congratulation. But not for your previous mentor, Finnick Odair.

Finnick had been there for you through the whole nightmare, even during the week before your Games. His support was unwavering which was one of the many reasons you had managed to survive from the moment you were Reaped to the end of the Tour. It was hard to tell when his mentorship had turned into something more complicated, but it had. It had become more about feelings than simply survival. Not a relationship per se, but not just a friendship either. You teetered on the line between the two, never crossing it and never discussing the fact that you were both aware of it either.

For six whole months.

When the final destination of the Tour came—the grand celebration at President Snow’s mansion—Finnick had told you it was the easiest part. All you had to do was manage a happy face, mingle with obnoxious Capitol citizens, and eat an abhorrent amount of food. He would have been right if you were a different person. If President Snow hadn’t demanded your singular presence at the end of the night.

You exhaled a shaky breath, watching the white mist drift into the light-polluted sky. The President’s words bounced around your head: Desirable… Customers... Family. The conversation played on a loop in your mind. You could remember the repugnant smell of roses, the overwhelming whiteness in the room, and the way his too-pleasant face lit up as fireworks exploded outside the window.

Shivers trickled down your spine, forming goosebumps that were borderline painful. The fact that you were on the ninetieth floor and wearing flimsy pyjama shorts and a thin long-sleeve shirt wasn’t helping either. The crisp wind blew against your body, but you had no intentions of moving to seek warmth. It felt appropriate to stay in the cold when your body would soon know nothing but unwelcome heat.

So lost in your spiralling thoughts, you failed to notice as another body silently took up space beside yours, warming up the side of your arm. This heat was welcome.

“Pretty cold out here.”

A startled gasp escaped your mouth. You straightened up and turned to the owner of the voice, only to find Finnick leaning against the railing, forearms over the edge the same as you.

“Sorry.” He chuckled. “I know my presence can be a little breathtaking sometimes. Nice shorts by the way.”

He turned his head turned to you, revealing his infamous flirtatious smirk. The dimples in his cheeks were prominent and charming. His bronze hair was perfectly dishevelled as usual, as if someone had purposefully placed each strand to give him the ‘sexy bed hair’ look. He was still wearing his white button-up and black trousers; the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows and a few buttons were undone, revealing his toned chest. The outfit had been accessorised with a metallic golden corset-like belt among other decorations that made him fit in with the Capitol crowd, but he must have taken them off. Now the outfit sort of resembled one that a boy would wear to a Reaping. Simple yet formal. Still gorgeous, not that he needed reminding.

Normally, you would retort with a snarky remark or, on the off occasion, flirt back, but instead, you resumed your previous position over the railings. You weren’t immune to Finnick’s charms; you praised anyone who was. You would usually be internally swooning at the sight of him, especially with the way he looked right now and his obvious flirting. But this night was much different. Flirting and swooning were at the back of your mind. All you could think about was your interaction with the president; the way his guards manhandled and escorted you to his study. The conversation that destroyed your hopes of a peaceful future.

Desirable. One word that sent ice coursing through your veins. Or snow, to be more poetic.

“I don’t think you’ve said a word since we got back,” said Finnick, still a hint of playfulness in his tone. He watched your gaze—eyes distant though not really seeing. It was clear something was wrong, so he continued, this time more softly. “You were gone during the fireworks.”

You remained unmoving, staring straight ahead at the city. Only when he uttered your name did he finally gain your attention. As you turned your head to face him, tears began to well up in your eyes.

Finnick noticed the silent distress in your expression and straightened up his stance. He towered over you, brows knitted together whilst his sea-green eyes flickered across your face, looking as if pieces were slowly falling together in his mind.

“He spoke with you, didn’t he?” he said. “Snow.”

To answer his question for you, a tear escaped your eye, but you were quick to swipe it away with a sniffle.

Your arms wound around your torso, hugging yourself as the words began flowing. “After I won my Games, when I was being crowned, he said something to me that I didn’t really understand." Your voice was gentle, just above a mere whisper. “Months passed and I’d forgotten all about it. Until now at least. He told me…” You swallowed the ache in your throat. “He told me, ‘I have big plans for you, Miss (L/N). I think you will be a very valuable asset to the Capitol citizens.’”

Finnick’s face had melted into an unreadable expression. His entire body turned to stone; it was like he was a marble statue portraying a Greek God. All of a sudden, he was sixteen again. He was in Snow’s study, being told that if he didn’t cooperate and essentially sell himself to the Capitol, his family would pay the price. And they did.

With a sad smile, you whispered, “I know what he meant now.”

Something inside him snapped and he broke from his stupor.

“No.” He vigorously shook his head. “He can’t do that. You can’t. I’ll go to him and—fuck!” His hand ran through his hair, making it even more dishevelled. The bright lights from the city were reflecting off his eyes, revealing the shine that was starting to gloss over them. “I can fix this for you, I swear I’ll—"

“Finnick.”

“He’s a fucking—”

“Finnick.” The plea in your voice ceased his panicked movements. He just stood there, looking completely and utterly helpless. You both did. Another tear slipped down your cheek as you stared at him, your voice wavering as you asked, “Can you hold me?”

He let out a breath as if the air had been knocked from his lungs and in one fell swoop, he stepped forward and pulled you into his arms. Silent tears began to flow more heavily, saturating his white shirt which he held you tightly against. There was a hand wrapped protectively around your lower back and another stroking the hair flowing over your neck.

You were certain Finnick let a few tears slip too because you could feel the cold breeze nip at the top of your head the slightest bit more. He mumbled the words “I’m so sorry” over and over into your hair but you just shook your head. You told him it wasn’t his fault, but he wouldn’t accept it. He had told you months ago about his arrangement with Snow. You couldn’t have imagined what it was like for him then, but you would be able to now. You would know every single little detail.

His embrace tightened as you turned your head and pressed your ear to his thumping chest.

The tears had stopped, and you managed to find your voice again. “Snow threatened to kill my family. What if the customers don’t think I’m good enough and he takes it out on them? I mean, I don’t have any experience.”

You remained silent, awaiting his response. When the hand stroking your hair halted, you realised your mistake. You realised what you had just admitted to him and mentally kicked yourself. Repeatedly.

Finnick moved both hands onto your forearms, gently pushing you away from him to get a clear view of your face. The surprise in his expression was enough to make you want to jump over the balcony ledge in embarrassment.

“You’re a virgin?”

Hearing the words out loud would have sent you over the edge—literally—if Finnick’s large hands weren’t wrapped around your arms. You tried to turn away from him, but his grip was unshakeable. Your eyes began to water again, and you felt pathetic.

“Hey,” he said tenderly as he tried to regain your eye contact. “It’s not a bad thing.”

Your distraught red-rimmed eyes snapped back to him. “Not a bad thing? Of course it’s a bad thing, Finnick! I have to give my body to a stranger despite never even having my first kiss! Let alone sex!” As you said the words, the full reality of your situation began to set in. Panic turned to sadness as you realised yet again, the Capitol was taking another innocence you thought was your own to give away. You looked down, your tone becoming quieter. “I thought my first time would be special. Or at least with someone I loved.”

God, you felt so embarrassed admitting that to him. Sure, a lot of your conversations were flirty and full of sensual banter. Sex, however, was not a topic that came up very frequently. You would never want to accidentally cross a line with Finnick, especially given what Snow forced upon him. So you liked to avoid the subject as much as possible. Now, it was inescapable.

He released his grip and sighed heavily, looking out toward the view as if he were deep in thought. The vivid city lights cast an unnatural hue on his usually golden-tanned skin; even now the Capitol was changing him into something he wasn’t. His eyes shut for a quick second before he reopened them and looked back at you. The only time he had looked this serious was the morning of your Games and the night you returned. It was a little intimidating.

His jaw ticked and his gaze bore down into your own. “Sweetheart, I’m going to ask you something,” he began, “and I want you to know you do not have to say ‘yes’ if you don’t want to, okay?”

Alright, now he was really starting to scare you.

“Okay,” you said warily.

The hardness on his face remained for a moment longer, but then his expression softened and became the most vulnerable you had ever seen.

His voice was gentle. “Do you want me to take your virginity?”

*************

You were sat on the edge of Finnick’s bed, toying with the black satin sheets with a frown. Your room didn’t get satin sheets. It was probably one of the benefits of being the Capitol Darling. Not that you envied him very much. He would probably be content with sleeping on a dirt floor if it meant he got his autonomy back.

Finnick was in the bathroom doing God knows what. You weren’t sure if he was trying to make himself more presentable or hyping himself up to have sex with you. The latter worried you. The last thing you wanted was to pressure him into something he didn’t want to do. Then again, he was the one who asked.

After you had told him “Yes, please”, he had tentatively but oh-so-gently taken your hand in his and guided you inside and to his room. Neither of you had spoken along the way; you just walked in silence toward something that would either ruin or deepen your relationship. Despite being two victors, this was still a mentor making sure his tribute stayed alive.

You heard the bathroom door slide open and looked up to see Finnick standing outside the door. Shirtless, pants still on, and towel in hand. It took everything in you to not stare at his perfectly sculptured torso, his equally toned arms, or his broad and muscular shoulders. Instead, your eyes met his for a split second before you returned to the satin sheets.

Blood rushed to your head and everything felt too real. Finnick Odair was standing before you, looking like an angel and willing to fu—

“You’re allowed to look, you know,” he chuckled.

But your gaze remained on the bed.

“I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“You won’t.’” He spread the towel on the bed, positioning it in the middle. Then he stopped his movements as he realised what you meant. “It’s not like that. I’m not being forced to do this. I want to.”

Your head snapped up and your heart leapt as those three words left his lips—I want to. For a second, you believed him, but then reasoning came to deflate your hopefulness.

“You wouldn’t want to if I weren’t in this situation.”

He let go of the towel, sitting down mere inches beside you, his eyes amused despite the solemn context. “And how do you know that?”

“Because…” you trailed off, searching your brain for an explanation only to find none. “Because.”

He smirked. “We need to work on your argumentative skills, sweetheart.”

A small smile worked its way across your lips. He returned it with a comforting smile of his own, though the sense of playfulness never left. It never really did and that was one of the things you admired most about him. Even in the darkest of situations, he was able to provide some light.

Rosy heat crept into your cheeks and you were forced to break eye contact again. Hiding how much he affected you was pointless now; if this was going to work out, you needed to be vulnerable with him. With each other. You looked down at the space between your bodies. His hand was resting on the bed beside him and soon enough, it was slowly creeping across the sheets over to your own. He gently brushed his fingers across your knuckles before sliding his hand beneath your palm and interlocking it with yours. You couldn’t help but notice how small your hand looked compared to his, feeling butterflies flutter around your stomach at the small observation.

The both of you silently watched your intertwined hands. That is until Finnick decided to speak up.

“I would,” he said ambiguously, caressing the side of your hand with his thumb. “I would still want to. Even in different circumstances.”

The blush on your face reddened even more; your cheeks were on fire at this point. Even in different circumstances. Was that his way of confessing… that he did have feelings for you? It wasn’t exactly explicit, but it was certainly implied. Oh god, you didn’t know what to think.

You didn’t bother to reply; words probably would have failed you anyway. You just gave his hand a slight squeeze in acknowledgement—well, it was more in appreciation. It was obvious how hard he was trying to make you feel comfortable, but no matter how hard he tried, you couldn’t shake the nerves that were rattling your entire being.

Sex was a pretty big milestone—to you, at least—and here you were, on the precipice with someone you trusted with your life. Did you love Finnick? You weren’t sure. What you did know was that your feelings for him were deep, and even though neither of you had ever clearly confessed to each other, you knew he felt something for you too. Which made everything all the more daunting.

“Are you nervous?” he asked softly.

You nodded.

“We still don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

You shook your head, lifting your gaze to his. “No, I—”

His eyebrows pulled inwards, awaiting your answer. His eyes were so inviting and full of understanding, if you hadn’t lost the ability to form full sentences, you would have found yourself spilling all your secrets to him. He was so patient with you. So good. You had to rethink your uncertainty about loving him.

“I…” you tried again. Your eyes flickered back and forth from his sea-green eyes to his soft, pink lips. As shameful as it felt to admit, you had imagined what it would feel like to have his lips on yours many times before. Usually right before you went to sleep. Never would you have thought the day would come when it would actually happen.

He was still caressing the side of your palm, silently reassuring you, encouraging you to communicate with him. You sighed, closing your eyes. If he wanted you to communicate, then you would.

“Finnick,” you whispered. “Kiss me.”

Your words drifted into the air, stilling everything in the room—the air, Finnick’s hand. Your heart. He just stared at you, unblinking, unmoving, like someone had hit pause on the television at the tensest moment. The tension was tearing you apart and you almost got up and left the room. But you didn’t. Because suddenly, the sides of your face were cupped by large hands and his lips were on yours.

Finnick Odair was kissing you.

His lips pressed against yours once more in one long close-mouthed kiss before leaving again. Shock came and left within seconds and you found the courage to copy his actions. Your lips locked perfectly onto his, remaining still, enjoying the pressure and tingly warmth of simply having them connected. Then your lips moved to kiss him again. And again, and again until soon enough, his tongue had slyly slid into your mouth and you had somehow instantaneously become a master at French kissing.

This kiss felt familiar, despite it being your first. Like something you had done millions of times before, but only with him. Like having his lips on yours was the most natural thing to ever exist.

A hand moved onto your waist and suddenly you were being pulled onto his lap, legs straddling his lap. Your hands fell on his chest, mindlessly wandering and feeling the toned muscles ripple underneath your palms as he pulled you closer by the neck to deepen the kiss. Damn the people of the Capitol, but they were right to say he was an incredible kisser.

“Finn,” you huffed in between kisses, “have you got a rock in your pants?”

He pecked your lips once more with a smirk, resting his forehead against yours as you both attempted to catch your breaths. “No,” he chuckled. “I’ve just got a beautiful girl on my lap.”

Your eyes opened to see him grinning at you with mischief. Oh.

“Is that okay?” he asked.

You nodded jerkily. “Ye—Yes, that’s okay.”

“Okay, good.”

Biting your lip, you looked down between your bodies. Curiously, you rocked your hips along the length of his lap once, earning a quiet grunt from him.

He tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. “Careful,” his voice was low, tempting.

And of course, in full defiance, you did it again. His warning was a bluff. He made no real action to prevent you from grinding any further on his erection, so you kept moving, and he kept revealing how good it made him feel. The thin fabric of your shorts created a little barrier between his hard lap and the growing sensitivity between your thighs.

Meanwhile, you found yourself never wanting to be parted from Finnick’s lips. With every rock of your hips, your hands ran over every inch of his upper body, eventually settling in his hair. The way he kissed reminded you of stories of District Twelve. A district full of hunger and desperation. Only what Finnick was craving wasn’t the fullness of food in his stomach, but the desire to devour you whole. To ravage you. And by God, would you give anything to satiate him.

Forget what you thought before. This wasn’t just a victor keeping his tribute alive. As clear as the sea on a sunny day, this was a man giving himself over to a woman he loved. You. Finnick loved you.

When you pulled back to tentatively lift your shirt over your head, his eyes stayed on yours. Your breasts were literally bare and he just continued to scan the features of your face. However, you did notice the subtle shift in his breathing.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, stroking the side of your breast.

A shy, cheek-warming smile crept on your face and then suddenly, Finnick was rolling you over. Your head fell back onto the soft silk pillows, Finnick hovering above you. This position remained for a long while, the time spent simply kissing each other, alternating between deep tongue-filled kisses and soft sweet pecks. There were moments when you both stopped to flirt or giggle. These were the times you entirely forgot the whole reason you were doing this in the first place.

It was just you and Finnick. Two new lovers in a perfect world.

After a while, your lips had swollen with warm, passionate heat. You were flushed and you didn’t even need to look to know your hair was already a tangled mess. But you didn’t care.

One of Finnick’s hands had begun to wander down your stomach, breaking the established pattern of merely making out. You knew what was coming and surprisingly, you weren’t afraid. Unlike outside the penthouse apartment, there was no danger. Not in this room, in this bed, or in the hands that caressed you. He grazed across the skin beneath your belly button, causing your body to flinch up into his.

Of course, he smirked at that—the smug asshole.

He returned to your lips before lowering down to your neck and sucking soft, red marks into your fragile skin. His fingers found the edge of your waistband. At this point, you were already breathing like a marathoner.

His lips detached from your neck. “Can Itouch you?”

“Yes, please,” you breathed.

As he travelled down, down beneath your waistband, he pecked your reddened lips once more. A soft gasp escaped you and warmth tingled between your thighs. His fingers were gentle as he began circling that sweet, sensitive spot only you had ever touched. Having someone else touch you felt so much more different, so much more exquisite. Your body responded to his touch immediately, hips following each movement of his fingers, breaths quickening in pace.

Finnick gazed down at you, observing each pleasured twist of your expression. He began to pick up the pace as he noticed your body familiarising itself with the sensation. More pressure was applied and the gasps leaving your mouth were gradually turning into quiet moans.

“This feel okay?” he asked. Obviously, he knew the answer, but after years of having others take advantage of him, he couldn’t help but want to hear your willingness. Your consent.

But you weren’t sure if the words could form. Everything felt like it was vibrating. All you could do was focus on the pleasure his fingers were building.

“Come on, sweetheart. You can tell me.”

His voice had taken on that seductive purr he was well-known for and you just couldn’t deny him. It took everything inside you to muster up the words. “It—it feels so good.”

He smiled and pressed a kiss to your forehead. The gesture was so sweet, you could have cried. So sweet even with his hand stroking between your legs and his hard cock pressing against your thigh. Time slowed as his fingers sped up. Muscles in your stomach were tightening. Your insides were churning—not like when you first entered your Games’ arena, but in the best way possible. It was a sensation you had never felt before, but before it could build any more, Finnick’s hand stilled. And you genuinely whined at the loss of friction.

Then his hand moved even lower, resting a singular finger over your slick entrance. Your eyes were wide, unsure of how to feel with the sudden turn of events.

Finnick’s eyes flickered between your own. "You trust me?”

You weren’t sure if an easier question existed. “I do.”

And his lips were on yours again, deep and sensual. His tongue rolled over your own, pushing forward and then retreating in a perfect rhythm. He almost successfully distracted you from the feeling of his middle finger sinking into you knuckle-by-knuckle. Some sort of sound resembling a mix of discomfort and surprise vibrated in your throat as his finger bottomed out.

There wasn’t much pain. It was just an odd feeling.

Your lips parted from his and he looked down at you, his eyes holding an immense amount of security as he communicated through your shared gaze.

Does it hurt?

You gave him a gentle smile. No. Keep touching me.

He returned your smile with a grin. Gladly.

His buried finger curled, shooting a sharp pang up into your stomach which caused your back to arch up against his bare torso. Whether you considered it painful or pleasurable was uncertain. Perhaps a mix of both. He did it again. This time you settled on describing it as a tight twinge in your lower stomach which sent a wave of chills down your legs. Definitely pleasurable. Only, he stopped indulging you with the sensation after the second time.

Instead, you felt another finger slowly slip inside you and whimpered. Now that hurt. You felt your inner walls stretch with the second addition and it stung. Especially when he began to scissor his fingers inside you. This was him preparing you for the real deal. How you were supposed to have Finnick inside you when just his fingers had you stuffed was incomprehensible. But you allowed him to keep going, trying to enjoy the comforting kisses he pampered onto you.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” he said.

Your hands moved to push back his messy bronze hair as he hovered above you. His dimples deepened with a grin and you swore you would endure any pain to keep them etched on his face. After he deemed you stretched out enough, he slowly rose to his knees, unbuttoning his trousers and throwing them aside. You couldn’t do anything but stare. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

The way you gulped was almost cartoonish. How the hell was he supposed to fit? You had never seen a man naked before—you weren’t even sure Finnick was human. He had a body sculptured by the Gods, a face carved by angels, and a… well, let’s just say he didn’t disappoint in any other areas. You weren’t sure if the smug look on his face was real or a carefully curated mask created for his Capitol customers. By the way it quickly washed away, you could tell it was the latter.

He began sliding your shorts down your legs, tossing them to the floor. Suddenly, you felt extremely vulnerable. Almost inferior. Your knees fell together, concealing the most private part of yourself from him. You avoided his gaze, cheeks becoming red and hot as he observed your naked frame. He had a way of looking at you as if you were a long-forgotten masterpiece, rediscovered from centuries of being lost. No one had looked at you like that before him.

Gently, he pried apart your legs and you didn’t bother trying to resist. Only when he descended and settled between your legs did the insecurity dwindle into the background of your mind. Your naked bodies were hot against each other. His weight pinned you against the bed. Everything that was yours touched all that was his. You thought this experience would feel like a dream, but it all felt so real. You were nervous, you were trembling, and your breaths were shaky.

Finnick was quick to recognise the nervousness radiating off you. His arm curled beneath you, somehow pulling you even closer, meanwhile, his other arm rested beside your head. He brushed strands of hair away from your face, soothing you with his tender touch.

“Tell me to stop and I will.”

You nodded. You wanted this—wanted Finnick. It was just the anticipation that was killing you. Your thighs squeezed his sides to tell him you were ready. For a few moments longer, he restarted the pattern of sweet kisses, rolling tongues, and the warmth of blood rushing to your head. His hand was caressing your cheek; yours were splayed on his back, gliding over the rippled muscles.

Then finally, he shifted, his hand moving south to align himself with your entrance. All you could do was watch his focused expression. This was the moment. The threshold of your relationship would be ­­crossed as soon as he pushed forward. There was no one else you wanted to share the experience with because you knew this wasn’t just sex. Not for him or for you; it was more than that. Something bordering spiritual, breaking the bounds of physical pleasure and entering into a deep emotional connection. Something no paying customer of the Capitol could provide.

He was gazing down at you, half-cradling your head as he began to say, “Are you su—" But before he could finish, you had pressed your lips to his, answering his question. You were sure. He nodded in response.

His eyes were hesitant he began to push his tip between your folds. Your fingers dug into his back, more from anxiety than anything else. It became a game of stopping and starting as he moved deeper inside inch-by-inch, allowing your walls time to adjust around him. Never had you seen someone’s face filled with so many emotions—concentration, controlled gratification, affection. So many feelings twisted his expression. Meanwhile, yours held only one. Discomfort. He was so big; you felt like you were being split apart and he wasn’t even fully inside yet.

Finally, when his pelvis connected with yours, you exhaled a heavy breath. It hurt. Bad. Finnick had the right idea to lay down a towel because you definitely needed it. He had you filled to the brim, stretched out and stuffed. Even the slightest shift in his position had your hands flying to his shoulders in pain.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yes, just—” You bit your lip in an attempt to suppress a whimper. “Just go slow.”

He nodded. You smiled. Then for some odd reason, you laughed. And then so did he. Finnick’s face fell into the crook of your neck, muffling his boyish laughs into your skin. The added movements had your insides dully aching, but you didn’t pay it much attention. The moment was so innocently intimate that you wanted to stay in it forever. He lifted his head to press his grinning lips to yours and the laughter began to dissipate. Your mouths moved slowly together, full of heat and fervent emotion, and suddenly, Finnick’s body began to move too.

Careful as not to harm you, he slid himself backward in one slow motion and then pushed forward again in another. Pain stung at your inner walls and your lips left his as a gasp escaped your mouth. You were tempted to close your eyes whilst riding out the discomfort but couldn’t bring yourself to look away from Finnick’s face. He was so mesmerizingly beautiful.

His cheeks were a baby pink. Lips were a rosy red. There was a thin sheen covering his forehead, slightly wrinkled by his furrowed brows. Those messy bronze locks you adored so much fell in strands across his forehead. The evident concentration and care on his face just made him look all the more picturesque.

While you admired his features, you started to notice the pain accompanying his slow thrusts was becoming more tolerable. There was still a sting, but also a dull twinge in your stomach that had you biting your bottom lip. It felt sort of… nice. And you wanted to experiment with that feeling.

Your hands were hooked around his shoulders. “Faster.”

Are you sure? His lustful eyes spoke.

You pulled him back down to your mouth. Absolutely.

And so, his hips started to rock back and forth at a faster pace. You could feel yourself clench around his cock from the change of rhythm but forced yourself to relax. He thrust in and out, rubbing against the ripples of your walls, tip brushing at a spot inside you that was anything but pain. That is what you focused on—that one sweet spot.

Time went on and he gradually increased his speed. Your lips were swollen and red, no doubt from the way he would nip and suck on your bottom lip in between each flick of his tongue. His breaths were coming out louder, heavier, as were your own. Soon enough, you were in a rhythm that was both pleasurable for him and for you. The pain lingered but it was no longer unbearable. A shudder ran down your body and your pussy fluttered around him. Finnick broke away from your lips with a breathy groan that you swore you could feel in the pit of your stomach.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

His thrusts became a little faster, a little more painful. A hand slipped down between your bodies and the pain faded quicker than it came. He was rubbing circles around your clit, occasionally running his fingers across it which caused you to lurch upward. All of a sudden, you came to the realisation that everything bad that had been clouding your mind had disappeared. The ache, the confrontation with Snow. Everything. The only thing you could focus on was the pleasure slowly building between your thighs and in your stomach. And Finnick. His tantalising eyes. His wicked mouth. His throbbing cock.

People always said your first time would be horrible; this was anything but. Maybe it had to do with the fact that you… loved him? Yeah, you loved him. Also because he was something of an expert at sex. You were in a pretty unlucky predicament but having Finnick willingly fucking you was a blessing.

His fingers were relentless, applying the perfect amount of pleasure that had you writhing beneath him. And added with the sensation of his cock repeatedly hitting that spot inside you, your uneven breaths turned into soft moans. He fucked, he rubbed, he nipped and sucked at the delicate skin of your neck. Heat was enveloping your entire body.

“Finnick,” you moaned.

“I know, sweetheart. I know.” His voice was strained and hoarse.

His hand left your clit, hooking around your thigh, and curling it around his back so he could thrust even deeper. He restarted his rhythm of rubbing circles, but his thrusts felt different. Instead of just brushing that sensitiveness deep inside you, he was mercilessly hitting it. Over and over. Your moans were louder now; Finnick was more vocal too, grunting and occasionally uttering words of praise.

This went on for a while. His stamina was incredible—if you had a moment to think, you would have realised the depressing reasoning behind it. But you couldn’t think at all. Your heel was digging into his back; nails scratching at his skin. Both of you had a layer of sweat covering your bodies, skin wet, slapping and sliding over one another. Your pheromones had filled the room with the smell of sex, driving your need to finish.

Finnick’s mouth had been everywhere at this point. Your lips, your neck, shoulders, and breasts. Everywhere except your pussy, not that it really mattered anymore.

It was hard for you to comprehend how fucking amazing the sensations you felt were. There was heat and pressure pooling in your stomach, increasing at a slow pace, and growing more powerful by the minute. Finnick’s hips moved at a steady pace, but his hand had begun to slow. Even he had to succumb to fatigue at some point. He sounded like he had run for miles though was obviously pushing himself on for your benefit.

Instead of ceasing his tiring hand movements entirely, he switched hands. And that was when the heat in your stomach turned into a blazing inferno. He was much faster now. Applied more pressure. Your head fell back against the pillow with a cry. His cock was throbbing inside you at the sound.

“That feel good? Huh?” he practically moaned.

He left kisses across the stretch of your neck, running his tongue over the skin and leaving behind red marks.

“Yes!” you cried out.

Your entire body felt like it was being dipped into a white-hot flame of pleasure and the feeling was only increasing. It was clear Finnick felt the same way. His thrusts were becoming more frantic, he was cursing left and right, and he was practically pulsing inside you.

The heat in your stomach was overwhelming but you needed more.

“Finnick, I feel—I feel—” You couldn’t even describe it.

Finnick nodded, breathing heavily above you. God, he looked gorgeous. “You’re gonna come.”

Your half-lidded needy eyes met his. Something about him saying those words sent a wave of acceleration through your body. You hadn’t known what the edge was until you were on the brink of coming, and there was no stopping it. His cock plunged in and out, pushing deep inside you, practically rocketing your orgasm to the surface with each thrust. His fingers moved at such an intense pace you didn’t even know was physically possible.

As your eyes fluttered shut, your mouth fell open and every frantic breath, moan, and cry was able to escape. Finnick had the same problem. Fuck, he sounded so sexy, it only spurred you on.

Then it hit you all at once. “Fu—"

Every inch of your body tensed. You were sent into a space where white noise filled your hearing and bliss was all you knew. No pain. No sadness. Just ecstasy. Electric sparks jolted up and down your body, rising to your head, and causing you to see stars behind your closed eyes. Your moans were uncontrollable and desperate, voicing Finnick’s name over and over.

His thrusts were frenzied and sloppy, prolonging your orgasm as long as he could. He had lifted your lower back into an arch, enhancing the sensation coursing through your body. Your walls were clenching and pulsing around him, so much that he was abruptly thrown into his own high. His hips stuttered and eventually, his cock filled you as deep as he could, spurting out warm strings of white that coated your inner walls.

He collapsed on top of you, face buried in the crook of your neck. Your fingers wound into his hair, clinging to him as the aftershocks of your orgasm ravaged your body. Legs trembling and mouth panting, you lay there allowing yourself to regain your breath and ability to move.

After pressing a lazy kiss to your neck, Finnick slid off you, falling onto the bed beside you. Hopefully the towel was enough to save the silk sheets.

Now that you were resting, exhaustion had the chance to cloud your mind. You weren’t sure what the customs were after sex—whether you made conversation or simply went to sleep. The latter sounded pretty good though. A warm hand slipped beneath your back, turning your body sideways and pulling you so you were half strewn across Finnick’s chest and legs. You made no effort to resist.

Eyes closed, you listened to the heart beating inside his ribs. Thrumming intensely though starting to return to a normal rate.

“Are you okay?” he asked with a murmur, sounding utterly drained.

His thumb drew gentle patterns on the skin of your waist.

You nodded against his chest, remaining silent. After a little while you finally decided to speak. “I’m glad it was you.” And then after a few more moments of silence, you added, “I wish it was just you.”

You felt him press his lips to the top of your head. A long and emotional kiss. The whole reasoning behind losing your virginity returned to mind. It felt heavy, weighing down the atmosphere in the room. No matter how hard you tried to deny it, what was coming was inevitable. You wouldn’t get to stay with Finnick in this bed. You wouldn’t get to belong to him, or he you. You both belonged to the Capitol. To Snow. No matter how much you wished to belong to each other.

He whispered, “Me too.”

[waitimcomingtoo]

Jealousy, Jealousy

Pairing: Peeta Mellark x Reader

Synopsis: Peeta helps Johanna unzip her dress in the elevator and it makes you jealous

Masterlist

“Can I have a hand?” Johanna asked as she turned her back to Peeta. Peeta looked at you and Haymitch for a split second before shrugging and taking ahold of her zipper.

“Oh. Sure.” He said as he pulled the zipper down her back. Your head slowly turned to Peter and you stared at him with a slack jaw. Peeta looked at you and his smile immediately dropped. He adverted his eyes as long as he could until they found their way back to the scene in front of him. Johanna was looking between you and Peeta with a smirk when she turned around to pull her sleeves off her arms. Peeta and Haymitch couldn’t help but watch her as she undressed and dropped her clothes onto the elevator floor. It appeared that you were the only one able to keep your eyes on the ceiling as Johanna stripped out of her last piece of clothing.

“Thanks. Let’s do it again sometime.” She said as the elevator doors opened. She walked into the hallway fully naked and left a silence when she left. Peeta and Haymitch chuckled and exchanged looks as the elevator went up another door. Peeta then made eye contact with you and gulped when he saw the daggers in your eyes. You could not believe he had just looked at her the way he did. Seeing him unzip her dress and watch her made your blood boil in your skin in a way it never had before. You were so consumed with your jealousy that you didn’t hear Peeta try to change the subject and only knew she spoke when you saw his lips move.

“What?” You asked him.

“I asked what outfit you liked the best.” Peeta repeated. “I thought District 5’s was kinda cool. But it didn’t look very comfortable.”

“I don’t know. And I don’t care. I wasn’t looking at the other tributes.” You said and eyed him up and down as the elevator doors opened on your floor.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Peeta’s face scrunched in confusion as he followed you out of the elevator.

“Nothing. I’m going to sleep.” You announced and headed straight for your room.

“You’re sleeping already? Aren’t you gonna eat?” Peeta asked with concern.

“I’m not hungry.” You said without looking back.

“I can meet you on the roof in a little bit if you want to hang out.” He offered.

“Not tonight.” You replied and disappeared into your bedroom. Peeta frowned and felt disappointment sink in over not getting the night with you that he thought he’d be getting.

“Uh oh.” Haymitch chuckled as he poured himself a drink.

“What was that?” Peeta asked and gestured to where you had just been.

“That, my friend, was you getting in trouble with your lady.”

“What?” Peeta blushed at what Haymitch called you. “She’s not even my lady.”

“But she wants to be.” Haymitch said pointedly and took a long sip.

“Y/n? There’s no way. She knows I like her and she made it very clear that she just wants to be friends.” Peeta insisted.

“Peeta, I don’t really know how they do things in 12 nowadays, so let me spell things out for you. That girl wants you but she’s way too stubborn to admit it to you or even herself. She doesn’t want to tell you how she feels because she wants you to just know. And she definitely didn’t want to see you undressing another girl right in front of her.”

“I wasn’t undressing her. I just helped her unzip her…” Peeta trailed off when he saw Haymitch raise his eyebrows in amusement. He realized how bad the moment in the elevator must’ve looked to you and began to panic.

“Oh no.” Peeta gulped. “Is she really mad at me?”

“Definitely.”

“What do I do?” He whined.

“Talk to her. And prepare to get hit a couple times.” Haymitch chuckled and patted Peeta’s shoulder as he passed him. Peeta thought about it for a moment and then went up to your room to do what Haymitch said and talk to you. He knocked on your door and you opened it pretty quickly as if you were expecting him. You had ditched your parade outfit and were now in some silky yellow pajamas.

“Hey.” Peeta smiled at you.

“What do you want?” You replied, making his smile drop.

“Just to talk. And I wanted to see you.”

“I’m really tired. I’m not in the mood to talk tonight.”

“Oh, okay. We don’t have to talk if you don’t want. I’m tired too. We can just sleep.” Peeta offered. You usually slept in the same bed to keep the nightmares away but there was no way you were letting him in your bed after what happened in the elevator.

“I’m gonna sleep alone tonight.” You told him with a tight smile.

“Oh. Okay.” Peeta said again and felt his disappointment settle in a pit in his stomach. Your cold expression suddenly melted to one of insecurity and you looked down the hallway as if you were expecting someone else to be there.

“Are you?” You asked quietly.

“Huh? Who else would I be sleeping with?” Peeta genuinely wondered, not realizing you were asking about Johanna.

“I don’t know.” You said quickly. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight. See you-“ Peeta was cut off by you closing the door in his face. He sighed and put his hand on your door before walking away.

“Tomorrow.” He mumbled.

When tomorrow came, he woke up in his lonely bed and went straight to your room. Your door was open and you weren’t inside so he assumed you already went downstairs. You weren’t there when he got to the table and let out another sigh. You were clearly avoiding him and he was not handling it very well. Peeta decided not to let it get to him and busied himself by making you a plate of all your favorite breakfast food. Haymitch watched Peeta scrambling to get back in your good graces and laughed to himself. You came down just as Peeta was finishing your plate and eyed him curiously.

“Good morning.” He greeted with you a smile.

“Morning.” You replied without looking at him.

“I made you a plate.” He said and put the plate in front of you. You stared at the plate for a minute and almost gave it and apologized for your cold behavior until you remembered the way he looked at Johanna last night. That was enough to make you lose your appetite so you pushed the plate away.

“I’m not really hungry.”

“You’re not? But you didn’t eat last night.” Peeta said worriedly as he sat beside you.

“Yes she did. For a hunter, you’re not very quiet. I could hear you rummaging for food all the way from my room.” Haymitch said to you.

“You came down to eat?” Peeta asked. “You should’ve gotten me. I would’ve kept you company.”

“Maybe I didn’t want your company.” You shrugged, making Peeta frown.

“Oh. Ice cold, sweetheart.” Haymitch chuckled. “You better watch your back in the games, Peeta. This one has death in her eyes.”

“You’re still mad at me?” Peeta whispered to you.

“Who said I’m mad at you?” You said without looking at him.

“I know you are. We usually talk on the rooftop and then sleep in the same bed. And then come down to eat breakfast together. You didn’t let me do any of those things.”

“Maybe I just need some space. We spend every hour together every single day. Excuse me for wanting some privacy for a little while.”

“We should be spending every hour together before we don’t get the chance. How long are you gonna be mad at me?”

“I already told you, I’m not mad.” You whispered harshly.

“Fine. You’re not mad. But when can we be friends again?” Peeta asked and tugged on your sleeve.

“Peeta.” You said warningly and pushed his hand away.

“Come on. I miss you.” He whined and tugged on your sleeve.

“I’m right here.” You scoffed but started to feel guilty for your behavior.

“No you’re not.” He pouted. “You’re far away.”

“Stop whining so much. You sound like my cat. And I hate that cat.”

“So you hate me now? All because I un-“

“Don’t.” You cut him off and got up from the table. You passed Effie in the hallway as you went back to your room.

“What’s going on? Y/n just told me she wants to train alone today.” Effie said as he joined the boys at the table.

“She’s mad at loverboy.” Haymitch said and pointed to Peeta.

“What did you do?” Effie asked him.

“Nothing. I didn’t do anything.”

“He unzipped Johanna Masons dress in the elevator.” Haymitch tattled.

“What? Are you insane?” Effie gasped. “You can’t do something like that in front of your lady.”

“Why does everyone keep calling her my lady?” Peeta asked. “She doesn’t even like me.”

“Of course she likes you. That’s why she’s so upset. She’s jealous.” Effie laughed like it was obvious.

“Jealous? Of me and Johanna? I don’t think I even said a word to her. I just pulled the zipper.”

“It’s not about Johanna, silly. It’s about you giving attention to another girl. That’s why she’s jealous. She wants to be the one you’re unzipping.” Effie explained, making Peeta choke on the water he had just sipped. He wiped his mouth once he stopped choking and sighed.

“I need to fix this.”

“Yeah. You do. Before she makes you her first target.” Haymitch told him.

“She wouldn’t do that. Oh my God. Wait. Would she?” Peeta worried.

“She might.” Effie shrugged and Haymitch nodded in agreement.

“Well what do I do? She won’t talk to me.”

“So don’t give her a choice. Go in there and show her that she’s your only lady.” Haymitch instructed.

“What if she tells me to go away?” Peeta asked.

“Stay.” Effie answered. Peeta nodded his head and got out of his seat to go talk to you. He knocked on your door but this time, you didn’t answer. Peeta took a deep breath before opening the door and going in. You were on your bed with your knees drawn up to your chest. You gasped when he came in and threw a pillow at his head.

“What are you doing in here? Get out.”

“No. We’re talking.” Peeta said and sat on the edge of your bed.

“Well I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Too bad. Because I want to talk to you. Please? I can’t take it that you’re mad at me. I don’t want to go in the arena without hearing your voice. Can’t we just talk?” Peeta begged.

“Fine. What do you want to say?” You asked him.

“That you’re a big baby.” Peeta replied.

“Excuse me?” Your eyes widened when you didn’t get the apology you were expecting.

“You are.” He insisted. “You don’t get to be mad at me for unzipping Johanna’s dress when I didn’t even know what was happening.”

“What?” You laughed nervously. “I’m not mad at you for unzipping her dress. Why would I care about that?”

“I don’t know why you care. But I know that you’re jealous.”

“Jealous? Oh, please.” You scoffed and got off the bed to get away from Peeta.

“It’s okay to admit it.” Peeta said calmly. “I admit that I was jealous when I saw you talking to Finnick. And his giant muscles that are always out.”

“They are, aren’t they?” You smiled coyly.

“Hey.” Peeta said defensively.

“You’re the one who’s jealous. Not me.” You said and pointed to him.

“Then how come you’ve been mad at me ever since I unzipped her dress?” Peeta asked and walked over to you.

“It’s not about the dress!” You exclaimed.

“Then what is this about?” He asked. You scoffed again and folded your arms to close yourself off. Peeta wasn’t about to give up that easy and put his hands on your shoulders.

“Please tell me. I miss my friend.” He said quietly. You sighed and looked into his big sad eyes.

“I don’t care that you unzipped her dress.” You admitted. “You were just doing what she asked. I care that you were looking at her when she took her clothes off.”

“In my defense, I’ve never seen boobs before.” Peeta stated, making you laugh for second.

“Me either.”

“Not…not your own?” Peeta whispered in disbelief.

“Yes my own. Never another girls.” You explained and smacked his arm.

“Oh. I was gonna say. I know we don’t have a lot of mirrors in 12 but I think they’d be kinda hard to avoid- “

“I don’t want you looking at Johanna, okay?” You cut him off. “Or any other girls. I hated it. It made my blood feel hot and my stomach dropped to the floor. And then I couldn’t sleep because I kept replaying it in my head. What is that?”

“Thats jealousy.” Peeta explained with a pleased smile now that he knew Effie was right.

“Oh. Well I don’t want to feel it ever again. I didn’t like it.”

“Well I didn’t like when you didn’t talk to me.” Peeta said quietly.

“I’m sorry. I feel like my life is completely out of my hands lately. But you and I are the one thing I have a say in. So when it felt like our relationship was threatened, I tried to gain control by shutting you out.”

“It’s okay. I probably would’ve curled into a ball and cried right in front of you if I saw you unzip some guys pants.” He admitted, making you laugh again. You chuckled and pulled him into a hug to apologize for being so cold towards him. When you pulled out of the hug, you kept your arms around his neck and looked into his eyes.

“So seeing me with Finnick really made you jealous?” You asked with a smirk.

“Yeah. I was questioning our alliance the second I heard him make you laugh.” Peeta replied, making you laugh.

“Yeah. I know the feeling.”

“Why do you think we got so jealous seeing each other around other people?” Peeta wondered. You looked down at the floor and sighed.

“I think maybe we underestimated our feelings for each other.” You admitted.

“We?” Peeta raised an eyebrow.

“Fine. I underestimated my feelings. When I saw you looking at another girl, I realized the only one I want you looking at is me.”

“As if theres anything in this world that could make me take my eyes off you.” Peeta said softly.

“Except for Johanna’s boobs.” You mumbled under your breath.

“You’re the only one I’m looking at right now.” He assured you. You smiled for a second, then frowned.

“But you’re not thinking about them, right?” You asked him.

“I’m about to if you don’t stop bringing them up.” He said out of the corner of his mouth.

“Maybe I can take your mind off it?” You asked with a shrug.

“How?” Peeta barely got the word out before you were kissing him. He wrapped his arms around you to deepen the kiss as your hands found their way to his hair. There were no cameras and no witnesses because it was just yours.

“So we’re friends again?” Peeta asked once you pulled away.

“I don’t know. I don’t get jealous like over just my friends.” You said coyly. Peeta picked up on what you were saying and felt his face heat up. He pressed his forehead against yours and looked into your eyes.

“Good.” He said. “Because I never wanted to be just friends with you.”

[natti-ice]

Being comforted on your period.

cw: menstrual cramps, just periods in general

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated<3

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

Your lower belly has been spasming all day and it’s made you so miserable, it feels like your body is trying to fight itself as you toss and turn on the couch desperate to get comfortable. When he walks into the room and sees you laying there in pain his heart begins to ache, he knew how bad it got every month and it killed him. If he could take away your pain he would do it in a heart beat, but unfortunately he cannot, so he has to settle for the next best thing. He immediately goes to get the heating pad, when he comes back he doesn’t say a word he just plugs in the heating pad and puts it on the setting you like. He kneels down beside you and says softly “lift up your shirt for me, baby.” You give him a soft appreciative smile and lift your shirt, you let out a soft relieved sigh as you feel the warmth on your skin. You were so grateful to have a man who truly cared for you.

[joshfutturman]

[phefics]

I NEED to know how the hg boys would react to you stealing and wearing their shirts around the house without anything underneath

OR wearing their sweatshirts on casual outings

Xoxo- 🦢

peeta gets giddy when you wear his clothes, he finds it so romantic and intimate. especially with nothing underneath...that's a whole new level of sexy to him. "look so good in my clothes, baby," he mutters, toying with the hem, pushing the shirt up so he can kiss your stomach before going down on you.

gale teases you about it. "little thief," he says in your ear, grinning. "but i do like how you look in my sweater..." and bends you over a table to punish you for stealing, pounding into you.

finnick finds it so cute, he wants you to wear his clothes all the time. when you're on the beach and it starts to get chilly in the evening, he'll take off his sweater and hand it to you, smirking because he knows you always "forget" to bring your own clothes to keep warm. and, if the mood is right, he'll press you against a towel in the sand and go down on you.

coriolanus pretends that it bothers him, but he finds it really sweet. "i need that shirt for work," he'll say, pretending to be annoyed. "you gonna wash it for me?" he comes up behind you, plays with the buttons. "tigris made me this shirt, i don't want to fuck you in it, baby. take it off and meet me in the bedroom, alright? make sure you hang it up nice so it doesn't get wrinkled."

sejanus jokes that he clearly doesn't buy you enough clothes, and asks if he's neglecting you, but he's grinning the whole time. "clearly i don't spoil you enough," he teases. "since you have to steal my stuff." and kisses your neck, nipping at your ear playfully.

[normafuckingrockwell]

hes so bf coded

[msmk11]

peeta mellark masterlist ❂

-one shots-

nothing here yet!

-head cannons-

nothing here yet!

-series-

nothing here yet!

-blurbs-

❂ I Made You a Pie

[schmidtsbimbo]

i would never talk back. dinner would always be ready and served. the house would be spotless. as many kids as he wants.

[soulofapatrick]

Home, Sweet Home - Peeta Mellark x Female Reader

Summary: You reunite with Peeta after winning the 76th Hunger games and you act on your feelings for him

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: none

Y/N’s POV

The Victory Tour has been an elaborate masquerade, a relentless parade of smiles plastered over a soul still reeling from the wounds of the Games. Every handshake, every fabricated grin, felt like a weight pressing down on me, the agony of pretending to revel in the celebrations when all I truly yearned for was the solace of home. 

The Capitol’s decadence, its opulent celebrations, and effervescent extravagance—it’s all a cruel reminder of the life I’m expected to embrace, the left I’m supposed to relish as a victor. But it’s a facade, a role I’ve been forced to play. My heart remains tethered to District 12, to the quiet streets and familiar faces that offer a semblance of genuine comfort. 

Amidst the sparkling lights and the cheering crowds, my mind drifts back to the memories of the arena, to the mentorship under Peeta, to the haunting absence of Katniss in District 12. 

Peeta Mellark. His name is a lifeline woven into the fabric of my survival. From the moment our paths intertwined, his presence became an anchor amidst the chaos of the Games. His guidance wasn’t just about tactics and strategies; it was a steady stream of compassion and unwavering support that stitched together the shattered remnants of my courage. 

In the heart of the arena, amidst the looming threat of death, he was my solace—the calm in the eye of a relentless storm. His words were a balm to the wounds inflicted by the ruthless Games, and his unwavering belief in my abilities breathed life into the embers of hope flickering within me. But it wasn't just survival that bound us. It was the unspoken understanding, the shared pain, and the unyielding determination to rise above the horrors we were subjected to. Peeta’s presence was a beacon of resilience, a reminder that humanity perseveres even in the darkest of times.

His absence during the Victory Tour amplified the void within me. Each forced smile for the Capitol's pleasure felt hollow without his reassuring presence. The memories of his kindness, his selflessness, and the way he made me feel—safe, understood, and cared for—lingered like an ethereal melody, a symphony echoing in the chambers of my heart.

Every victory in the arena felt incomplete without the prospect of returning home to District 12, where I knew he would be waiting. His absence now is a stark reminder of the yearning that's blossomed within me, a yearning that transcends mere friendship. It’s a yearning rooted in admiration, respect, and an inexplicable pull toward someone who understands the depths of my soul.

As the train hurtles closer to District 12, my mind lingers on the bittersweet ache of anticipation. The knock on the carriage door draws me from my reverie, and when it creaks open, Haymitch stands there, his gruff exterior softened by a knowing glint in his eyes.

“We’re almost home kid.” He tells me, looking for the liquor which Effie had tried to hide but I just point towards the cupboard Effie put it in as he’s gone almost cold turkey the whole tour. He makes a triumphant sound when he finds it and I retreat back into the cocoon of my thoughts, sketching aimlessly while visions of home dance in my mind like fragments of a beautiful dream. Peeta’s words resound, his descriptions of the Victor’s Village painting vivid images of a serene haven—a place that promises solace amidst the remnants of a harrowing past. 

He spoke of the houses with such reverence, a testament to the life waiting beyond the tumultuous journey, “It’s beautiful, you’ll see.” He had assured me with that trademark sincerity of his, as though he wanted to paint the scene for me, to offer a glimpse into eh sanctuary that awaited. I remember his promise, a simple yet heartfelt vow: a cake waiting for me upon my return. The thought brings a smile to my lips despite the weariness clinging to every muscle. It’s a gesture, a small slice of normalcy in the chaos of our lives—a symbol of comfort, of the simple pleasures we often take for granted. 

The idea of stepping into the Victor’s Village, of sharing a slice of cake baked by Peeta in a house that holds the promise of peace, feels like a respite—a chance to shed the weight of the Games and the elaborate facade forced up me during the tour. 

The train's rhythmic chugging signals our imminent arrival. The anticipation swells within me, a mingling of excitement and relief. Home. It's not just the physical place; it's the prospect of being enveloped in familiarity, of finding solace in the warmth of companionship, and, most of all, of reuniting with Peeta—a friend, a confidant, and perhaps something more. 

As the train slows to a halt, the station looms ahead, a beacon drawing me closer to the arms of District 12, to the Victor's Village, and to the person whose unwavering support and promise of a simple joy await me—a promise embodied in a freshly baked cake, a symbol of the comfort and understanding that Peeta Mellark embodies.

Haymitch, ever the gruff guardian, extends a steadying arm, guiding me up from my seat as a twinge shoots through my right calf—a lingering reminder of the games that won’t easily fade. His presence offers both physical support and a sense of familiarity that grounds me in this whirlwind of arrival. 

As the doors of the train slide open, a cacophony of jubilant cheers fills the air, reverberating through the station. The collective uproar, a symphony of gratitude and celebration, overwhelms my senses, but amidst the adoration echoing in the air, my focus remains fixated on finding Peeta. 

Through the sea of faces, my gaze darts around the mass of faces until it lands on him—a familiar silhouette standing slightly to the side, his ocean blue eyes locking onto mine with a mix of relief and unspoken understanding. In that moment, the cheers fade into a distant hum, and everything else blurs into insignificance. The intensity of his gaze feels like a lifeline, pulling me through the tumultuous sea of emotions. 

My heart swells with a surge of emotions, a rush of feelings that transcends the boundaries of mere friendship—a torrent of affection, gratitude, and a love that had quietly blossomed amidst the chaos. In the depth of his ocean blue eyes, I find a reflection of the unspoken sentiments that echo within me. 

The realisation crashes over me like a wave—I’m in love with Peeta Mellark. It’s not just a fleeting infatuation; it’s an undeniable truth that has been silently growing, nurtured by shared experiences, understanding, and the unspoken connection that binds us. Before rational thought can temper the surge of emotions, instinct takes over. Without a second thought, I break away from Haymitch, the thudding of my heart growing out all other sounds. The cheers, the bustling crowd, the very world around us becomes a blue as I sprint towards Peeta, my every stride a leap closer to the person who has become an integral part of my being. 

The distance between us diminishes with each step, the air crackling with an unspoken anticipation. His eyes widen in surprise, a mix of astonishment and a mirrored rush of emotions dancing within their depths as he realises my intent. With an unabashed burst of emotion, I throw myself into his embrace, my arms wrapping around him with a fervour that words could never encapsulate. Peeta’s initial surprise melts into a reciprocated rush of emotions as my embrace envelopes him. His arms, strong yet tender, instinctively encircle me, pulling me closer as though trying to bridge the gap that time and distance had imposed between us. In that shared moment, the world around us dissolved into insignificance, leaving only the raw intensity of our connection. 

“I’ve missed you,” my whispered confession hangs in the air, laden with unspoken emotions and the weight of an unguarded heart. 

His response is immediate, a gentle yet desperate movement as he shifts slightly, enough to cup my cheek with a tenderness that makes my heart flutter. His eyes, a reflection of the unspoken turmoil within, lock onto mine with a raw honesty that needs no words. And in that unspoken exchange, he pulls me closer, his lips seeking mine with an urgency that echoes the unspoken longing we both shared. 

The moment our lips meet, it’s a collision of emotions—an amalgamation of desperation and relief, of aching hearts finding solace in each others embrace. The kiss is a symphony of emotions, a crescendo of pent-up feelings that spill over in a rush of passion and tenderness. The screams and cheers of the District get even louder but also fades away. 

His lips mould against mine, conveying a depth of longing and understanding that transcends words. In that kiss, there’s a separation to erase the distance, to soothe the ache of separation, and to find solace in the shared embrace—a moment of reunion that feels like coming home. Every brush of his lips against mine is a reassurance, a promise of understanding and support. It’s a silent affirmation that speaks volumes—of shared trials, unspoken confessions, and a love that had silently bloomed amidst the chaos. 

My heart pounds in my chest, the world narrowing down to the sensation of his lips on mine, the warmth of his touch, and the overwhelming rush of emotions that threaten to overwhelm me. It's a moment of surrender and acceptance, a moment that feels like the missing piece in the tumultuous puzzle of our lives has finally found its place.

“Come home with me.” Peeta murmurs against my lips and I’m nodding, pressing another kiss to his lips this time chaste. 

“Take me home Peeta.” 

The Hunger Games Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

[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