#Suzzane Collins

[trolliworms]

I think the most depressing thing about sunrise on the reaping is how it shifts everything we know so far. We spent so long feeling bad for Katniss and Peeta just to find out they didn’t even have the worst of it. The original hunger games trilogy was just the tip of the goddamn ice berg.

I rewatched the first movie and I cried so much harder than usual because I know this was not the first Prim. Not the first Rue. Not by a long shot. And we have no clue the depths of the cruelty.

[glass-dagger]

I appreciate that Suzzane Collins always humanizes the tributes in the arena, even the Careers that are often the “villains”.

That scene where Silka is all alone, finds the tree Haymitch and Wellie are in, and just sits there and cries. That moment of solidarity when Haymitch drops the chocolate down to her. That reminder that they are all just kids who are either brainwashed or forced to be violent.

The other tributes are never the real enemy.

[changetheprophecy81]

I love how mrs everdeen thinks Katniss is too young to have a boyfriend but she's completely fine with her going hunting in the forest to provide for the family. No one understands how parents work better than suzzane collins does lmao

[obsessmess]

I LOVE THIS TREND SO MUCHH 😭😭

[nyxemisa]

pretty with a purpose!

[lovinghimwasted]

You guys want Finnicks book so bad but personally Suzanne can keep it bro I don’t want to read what happens after his games I don’t think I could handle it. Sunrise on the Reaping destroyed me and I haven’t even finished it yet 😀

[jellybellyblimp]

All this talk about Haymitch seeing Burdock in Katniss, but how many times do you think Burdock looked at his stubborn reckless little girl hurling herself at problems like a battering ram and thought “you are so like your uncle” “she is Haymitch come back to haunt me”

[cloudy-roro]

I'm a little ashamed to admit this but back when I first watched the hunger games trilogy it never occurred to me how Big of a tragedy the victors purge truly was and I consider it one of the most horrifying and cruel things in the story

The victors stayed under snow's control ever since he became president and as he forced them to relive their trauma with how they would mentor other children who would experience the same horrors as they do and the cycle continue , he stripped them of their youth and innocence and in alot of cases their families yet still still forced them in the position of themselves as entertainment for the capitol and condemned them to feel guilty and tramatized by the children that they couldn't save and lots of them turned to self distraction because of it and in the end he killed them after years and years of them scarfing their agency and sanity and being tools for him to keep the status quo he set an example with their deaths

All the victors deserved the chance to see a Free panem and to see the demise of the person who held them at gunpoint for years. They all deserved to get to experience a life without having to worry if they will fail another child, and they all deserved to get to heal and find love and learn to forgive themselves for the children that they couldn't save and they deserved to be resured that the future generations will grow up without fear of getting their name pulled and they deserve to be able to rebuild their lives and be allowed to see if they wanted to have kids since they will no longer have to be afraid of them getting reaped

All of District 1 and 2 and 4 victors deserved to see that the lies they were taught would never be taught again for other children that kids won't spend their lives training in the hopes of participating in a death match thinking that they were becoming heroes but in reality they were pawns the capitol was willing to discard at any moment

And yet out of 65 victors only 7 survived and got to see that JUST SEVEN like I love all of them as much as the next person but it's still tragic besides the district 12 victors who became their own little found family the other victors lost people who they have known for years and who were their neighbors and friends or colleges . Annie lost finnick and mags being the most obvious example but enobaria and Johanna and beetee also lost their colleges and would be the only ones left in victors village in their districts and the people who shared their burdens were gone

It's truly tragic for everyone and I feel ashamed that it took me this long to realize that. The victors were undoubtedly the biggest victims of the capitol and lots of them never got to see justice be done it's honestly making me go crazy Suzanne is the type of writer who doesn't hold back at all

[daydreamer-in-reverie]

I think that, as a literary device, Finnick’s story is one of the most effective ones I have ever read.

When you think of victims of sex-related crimes, you so rarely think of a man.

In our modern society, we more often imagine women to be victims of such crimes. Beautiful women who are battered and bruised, their eyes holding that faraway gleam of pain and trauma. Sex-related violence against women is such a common occurrence that it is difficult to find a woman who doesn’t have intimate knowledge about it. Perhaps not every woman has been raped but every woman knows at least one who has. As young girls, we’re told so many things to try and prevent rape. Don’t go out by yourself at night. Be careful of what you wear. Don’t drink alcohol. Fight them off. And yet, if you did everything right and still fail at protecting yourself, just give in. Better raped than dead. Come home to your family and friends hurt and bruised but alive.

And it is this message that Finnick, a man, lives by.

Better taken advantage of, bruised and hurt, than dead. Better you than your parents or your siblings or Mags or Annie. Do whatever it takes to stay alive.

And, the thing is, we didn’t have to hear this story from him. We could have heard it from Cashmere.

In his propo to the Capitol, Finnick reveals that attractive Victors are pimped out by President Snow to the residents of the Capitol. One such Victor is Cashmere.

Knowing this layer of her story makes Cashmere the picture perfect victim. A woman who is repeatedly described as beautiful. She is a typical description of what a rape victim is. Suzanne could have used her character instead of Finnick’s to portray an instance so familiar to so many women and yet, she didn’t.

She chose Finnick. And I think the reason why she did that is because hearing it from Cashmere would have made the story fall flat.

Would we have blinked an eye had it been Cashmere who revealed the horrors of being a Victor? Would we have felt anything other than a vague sense of sympathy? I don’t think so. Like so many women before her, Cashmere’s story is so familiar to us that it no longer leaves that bitter taste in our mouths. We, as a society, have been so deeply desensitized to this plight that we no longer feel the same indignation we used to feel. Instead we are resigned to our fate. Cashemere isn’t the first victim of rape and she won’t be the last.

Yet to hear it from Finnick had us shocked. Finnick? A man? Attractive, to be sure, but he is at the prime of his life and yet he is a victim? Finnick, who can wield a trident so effectively he became the youngest Victor in the 75 years the Hunger Games operated, was raped? Finnick, who has literally killed people with his bare hands, was prostituted? Finnick, who cracked jokes about killing people was whored out by President Snow?

It is absurd! It is a bizarre and strange! It has to be untrue!

And yet it’s not.

Finnick being representative of that particular storyline was effective at reminding us of what it means to be victimized like that. And using Finnick, a man, instead of Cashmere, a woman, reminded us of why we have to be rightfully angry and upset about such things instead of resigned to our fates.

Suzanne Collins is an absolute literary genius.

[i-know-the-endss]

i think the most frustrating part about tbosas is the fact that you want to root for coryo. you want him to be a better man for lucy gray. you want him and sejanus to become closer, to become the best friends sejanus believes them to be. you want him to run away and find a way to relearn all the oppressive and tyrannical ideals the capitol instilled in him.

but that’s not what happens.

coriolanus isn’t necessarily a good person. he’s not a bad person either, not yet, but he’s no where near good. and rather than try to be good, he gives up, he lets himself “go bad”, he rats out sejanus, he lets his anger get the best of him and loses lucy gray.

the idea that coryo could be a good person but chooses not to be is exactly the reason this book and this character are brilliant.

[mythicalyeticat]

Okay but “District twelve where you can starve in safety.” Is such a cold line. It just has a raw honest feel to it, like that’s what Katniss thinks of her district in a nut shell. I love how Suzanne Collins was able to put so much information in the first chapter without it feeling like it’s overwhelming.

[glass-dagger]

The Careers are a metaphor for the Capitol and the Newcomers are a metaphor for the revolution

The Capitol scrubbed any mention or evidence of the Newcomer alliance because it would have sent the message to the districts that the weak are stronger together.

Wyatt says that the Careers always have good odds but these Games are different because of the alliances. Normally, the Careers have better odds not just because of their strength and training, but because of their alliance. The Careers are always outnumbered by the rest of the tributes but they stick together and they make plans. They are organized. The other tributes biggest weakness isn’t really that they are physically weaker or less trained, it’s that they are often on their own and fighting each other as well as the Careers.

Throughout the book, the oppressed are mentioned to outnumber those in power multiple times: the Newcomers to the Careers, District 12 to the peacekeepers, the tributes in the the training compound to the peacekeepers, and (obviously) the districts to the Capitol.

The tributes from 6 say no to the alliance at first because they don’t want to be targeted by the Careers. This seems so irrational because of how the Games work. The Careers would still try to kill then eventually so why not join the Newcomers to have better odds? But this is exactly what keeps people in the districts from rebelling: fear of retaliation from the Captiol. People know how brutally rebels and their loved ones are punished. But is avoiding being targeted actually better in the end if the Capitol is still in power?

Plutarch asks Haymitch why they submit to the peacekeepers and the Capitol. And when Haymitch says they don’t want to end up dead he responds:

“And yet, I still don’t think the fear they inspire justifies this arrangement we’ve all entered into. Do you?”

The Newcomers are the districts after they unite during the revolution. They find their strength through binding together against a common enemy. The Capitol had purposefully pitted the districts against each other because they knew if they stop fighting each other, they might finally unite and overthrow them.

They edit the 50th Hunger Games to make it look like Haymitch was a selfish jerk who played the Games alone and drove his only ally away in the end. The Games with the biggest tribute alliance ever was completely erased and replaced with a story of a victor who only looked out for himself.

The Capitol wants to push the narrative that it’s every man for themselves. Even the Careers will turn on each other eventually because there can only be one victor. They push individualism because it keeps people weak and under control. Unity will always be the most powerful advantage.

[wiiblerr]

Lenore Dove Baird

[shyjusticewarrior]

⚠️ spoiler warning for Sunrise On The Reaping ⚠️

Katniss mentally comparing Prim to a bird right before her death. Haymitch mentally comparing Louella to a bird right after her death. This book was written to make me specifically crash out.

[flowercrownsandherondales]

Against the Odds Pt. 7

Sorry this is so late! This weekend was insane and totally got away from me. I promise I’ll go back to updating daily for those who are following it! Let me know what you think! 

VII: Lost Track

Haymitch was the one to break my emotional kiss first. 

“Y/N…” He murmured, petting my hair with a look of…pity? I pulled away, wiping my eyes harshly with the heel of my hand. His pity disgusted me and maybe I wanted it? 

“Sorry I- sorry.” I mumbled, turning on my heel and towards the door. I needed to curl up in bed and never come out. Maybe I’d earn the title of hermit woman and no one would ever bother me again. 

Part of me hoped Haymitch would call after me, beg me to stay and talk about what happened. Instead he just stood shell shocked, mouth open like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. If I had turned around again I would have seen him gently pick up the discarded flower, cradle it in his hands as if it was a piece of his heart rather than mine, and place it with utmost care onto his dresser. 

I raced out of his house at the speed of light, forgetting all of my cleaning supplies as I cut through the seam and into my house. The door slammed behind me with a rattle as I tossed myself into bed, not bothering to lock the door. Let someone come in and see the mess I’ve made of things. 

I laid in bed for two days before there was a knock at my door. The energy to physically open it was too much, instead I stayed silent as it cracked open and Burdock Everdeen strutted in. I watched with half lidded eyes as he unloaded his bow onto the shoddy kitchen table, laying out a plucked chicken and some vegetables with it. 

He gave me one look from the kitchen, his eyes soft and gentle, bringing me to tears. Burdock sighed heavily, rummaging through my kitchen as I closed my eyes. Safe. He’s safe. 

I opened them again to the smell of soup filling my nostrils. He was still here, humming a tune under his breath while ladling out two bowls. Another voice joined him in his song, his little girl with two brunette braids singing softly. I rubbed my bleary eyes, heaving my body off my bed turned coffin to join them. 

“Welcome to the land of the living.” Burdock grinned, presenting me with a steaming bowl. “I don’t think you’ve met my girl yet. Y/N, this is Katniss.” The girl gave a shy smile, digging into her own bowl. I nodded to her, offering a quirk of my lips, not quite a smile but close. 

She was the spitting image of her father, especially when he was younger. The female version of the boy I had seen in Haymitch’s photo. Katniss wasn’t a talker, similar to Wiley. Instead she offered small glances and half smiles. Burdock just ruffled her hair, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek before he joined us at the table. 

“You’ve been cooped up here for a few days, figured you needed a good meal and good company.” He said, careful not to bring up Haymitch flat out. I just nodded, taking small sips so I didn’t get sick. I had only gotten up twice to rummage through my pantry, surviving the last few days on stale saltines and water. This meal was like being blessed with manna from heaven. 

I didn’t know how to properly thank Burdock. He had been a silent, solid figure all my life, watching from the sidelines and never quite making his way into my orbit. It was as if he had seen his chance and taken it, treating me with the care he treated his girls with. 

The sounds of glasses clinking and quiet chatter from Burdock filled the space with peace. He had opened the blinds before I woke, letting light back into my dungeon. Katniss was a quiet girl, reflective and inquisitive. She hung onto every word her father said as if he hung the moon and stars. For just a minute I looked up to see my boy sitting there, giggling at my impression of Effie Trinket, chewing on his flapjacks with a barely contained grin. My mood didn’t sour with the comparison, rather it lifted. What a blessing it is to have another little one giggling in my dining room. 

Burdock and Katniss cleared the plates, ignoring my protests to do my own dishes. I watched as he shoo’d his daughter away from the sink. She frumped down at the chair again, looking around for something else to do. Her gray eyes caught the old record player I had inherited from my pa in the corner, lips upturning as she softly padded towards it. I got up to follow her, crouching down to meet her level on the floor. 

“You ever played a record before?” I asked, watching her braids shake no. I sat with her, looking at a few of the records pa left. Old folk bands that had been recorded decades ago. The record player had been in our family for generations, and while it was broken down, it still played on with a crackle. I picked something random, showing Katniss how to put it on the spinner and place the needle. Gentle music broke through, something soft and sweet that made the morning come alive. 

“I like this.” she said so softly I almost didn’t hear it. She started to sway, Burdock looking on fondly as we chatted quietly about the different records in my collection. 

They stayed for a few more hours before he mentioned something about Primrose and Astrid waiting for them. I walked them to the door, Burdock pulling me into a bear hug and scolding me lightly on the importance of taking care of myself. I turned to Katniss, who chewed on her lip for a moment before she shot out to give me a hug, throwing me back before I slowly wrapped my arms around her. 

“Thank you for coming to visit, sweetheart. If you ever want to come and listen again, my doors always open.” I whispered to her, feeling her shy smile and nod as she pulled away. I watched as they faded down the path, folding my arms around my body and feeling lighter than I had in days. 

As the night descended I decided to sit on the steps outside for a bit, needing the warm breeze against my skin. I lit a cigarette, exhaling into the night. It would be autumn soon, the air chilling and bringing in the scent of warm cider from the hob. My mind drifted from thoughts of Wyatt and I running around the harvest festival a lifetime ago, orange and yellow flowers woven in my hair as he pulled me through the seam, pushing me into areas where we wouldn’t be seen to steal a kiss. Then, a few years later when I had taken Wiley and my ma, both of us holding his tiny hands as he waddled around babbling. 

Another memory hit me, one I hadn’t thought about since it happened. Before Wiley or Wyatt, Louella grasping my hand as she tried to find Haymitch. That year she’d had the biggest crush on him, wanting to follow him around incessantly. Sid had been sick, Mrs. Abernathy shooing her eldest off to the festival without them. Haymitch had stuck with Burdock and Blair as they ran circles around the seam, filling up on fried bread and cider. It was before Haymitch started spending every spare moment with Lenore Dove, young love hadn’t entered either of our lives yet. 

Louella and I had caught up with the three of them as the band started playing. Haymitch had dramatically bent down, asking for Louella’s hand to dance. I watched from the sidelines as he spun her around and around, both their faces in a permanent smile. I giggled at Louella’s blush, listening to Blair rattle about Hazelle Whitaker. Burdock had been attempting to conceal his eye rolling for the last fifteen minutes before nudging me and begging for a spin. I had refused, trying to laugh off the fact that I had two left feet and no ounce of rhythm. He just wiggled his brows, coaxing me out onto the dancefloor. 

We swayed for a while. “I can’t listen to him talk about her anymore. I like someone too but you don’t see me boring him to death about it, do you?” he grumbled, his eyes locked in on the blonde who was dancing in a circle with Merrilee and Maysilee Donner. 

“It’s just a crush, he’ll get over it eventually.” I retorted. Burdock chuckled, pointing to Hazelle who was blushing up a storm talking to Garrett Hawthorne. “He’s going to have to, looks like his girl might be preoccupied.” The music changed up, a faster song that involved swinging. Burdock watched as Merrilee and Maysilee grabbed onto each other, spinning around in circles. “Now’s my chance, sorry Y/N.” I barely caught on before I was spun, landing straight into Haymitch Abernathy’s arms. I hadn’t noticed Blair taking over with Louella, picking her up and sweeping her all around the dancefloor. 

“Hey.” He grinned, one hand falling to my waist while the other caught my hand. 

“Hey yourself.” I said breathlessly, falling into a semi rhythm of soft swaying. We stayed quiet for a minute, a blanket of pre-teen awkwardness falling over the moment. Louella shrieked as Blair held her forearms and lifted her off the ground in a spin. 

“She’s having the time of her life.” Haymitch grinned at the comment, watching on fondly. Burdock had managed to grab Astrid for a dance, his face beet red as she leaned into him. “So is he.” Haymitch commented, both of us erupting into laughs. 

“Should we try and one up them?” He asked, a sly grin taking way. Before I could protest I was being tossed at arms length before being swung back in. Haymitch grabbed my left hand, holding it up and swinging me in front of him, a hand wrapping around my back as he bent his knees and brought me across, dipping me low to the ground. I yelped, face blanching as my calves brushed the ground. We locked eyes for a minute, breathless as he brought me back up. I felt a few eyes on us, hoots and hollers at the insane move he pulled with effortlessly. Burdock raised his eyebrows, looking between the two of us. 

The moment had been broken by Louella begging to be swung around like that, which Haymitch had laughed and obliged. 

Maybe my emotional kiss hadn’t come out of the blue afterall. 

Lost in the memory of the dance, I once again didn’t notice the heavy boots coming to settle beside me. Haymitch looked like hell, carefully sitting down next to me. We sat in silence, letting the night air breeze between us. I let out a deep sigh, my hand coming to rest on the concrete next to him.

Softly his fingers inched closer to mine, hovering over before settling on top of my hand. He let out his own sigh, still looking out into the night. 

“We need to talk about some things.” he whispered into the air. For once, I agreed. Standing up and brushing off my pants, I moved in front of him, holding out my hand. 

“Let’s go then.” He hesitated, finally resigning with a huff and taking it from me, letting me lead him in the house. 

[scarletmika]

hi!! could i request mr lovely peeta mellark and his fiancee baking together with the windows open during a pretty summer day post hunger game… perhaps….

they get flour on their faces, swipe frosting on each other’s noses—all that cute stuff hdjdhd <33

Okay I have to preface this with the fact that this was submitted by a dear friend of mine that's practically my little sister who I introduced to The Hunger Games like LAST YEAR so she's a little late to the Peeta Mellark loving train. But she's been begging for this (I've been too engrossed in Bob) so I must deliver

I'm Glad You're Here : ̗̀➛ Peeta Mellark x Reader

Pairing: Peeta Mellark x Reader

Summary: The War is over, the Mockingjay has won. All that's left is you, the man you've loved through it all, and the life you now get to choose together.

Warnings: the amount of fluff in this is actually fucking insane I can't, rhy I hope this is everything you ever dreamed of I can't believe I'm writing Peeta Mellark fanfic in the year of 2025, female reader description, some allusions to torture/brainwashing, talks of war, obviously SPOILERS for The Hunger Games series

Word Count: 1,300 words

Requests are open! : ̗̀➛ Find my masterlist here

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧

"You have to let the dough rest, love, you can't keep kneading it,"

A giggle fell past your lips the second the words left Peeta’s mouth, and he could only shake his head in amusement at you. The windows were open, that cool summer breeze carrying the scent of the lavender bushes planted directly outside of the kitchen into the room, mixing with the scent of the freshly baked bread sitting on the dining room table. A sweet smell hung in the air, courtesy of the frosting that Peeta was attempting to place on top of the cupcakes you’d insisted on making.

Katniss didn’t like celebrating her birthday, but she did enjoy the baked goods you and Peeta had grown accustomed to making over the years. She’d say no to any gifts, unless it was your baked goods.

“Kneading it is so fun though!”

He’d laughed as you glanced over, his eyes already locked onto you. Those pretty hazel eyes that you adored so much, that you’d been in love with since you were just a young girl.

It was you and Peeta, it had been since the moment you had met. The daughter of a middle-class merchant family who found herself glued to the side of the baker’s son from early on. From there, you’d begun volunteering yourself around the bakery, and it was clear to just about everyone that knew you that it was because of a certain blonde.

You’d held one another after every Reaping ceremony, just thanking whatever god might be watching that neither of you had been chosen. But then, Peeta was, and you finally mustered the courage to kiss him before they whisked him away, to kiss him before you never got the chance to.

Then he’d come home, albeit on the arm of Katniss Everdeen, the girl who had saved his life, the girl the broadcasts claimed he was in love with. Until he’d whisked you away, into the most private location he could think of in all of District 12, and kissed you back like he should’ve done before the games.

If Peeta was asked what got him through it all, he’d forever say you. The games, the victory tour, the Quarter Quell, the bombing of District 12 that took everyone from him but you, the hijacking by the Capitol. You stood as a testament that someone loved him, that despite everything bad that had happened, someone would always love him. Not as a victor, but as Peeta Mellark, the baker’s boy from District 12 who was just unlucky enough to have his name drawn.

That’s why the ring sitting on your left hand was only ever going to belong to you. He’d played his part for the camera, to live and come home, but he knew you were always waiting for him on the other side. He didn’t have much luck on his side, because he must have spent it all to keep you by his side all these years.

“I know you enjoy it,” Peeta commented, saddling up to your side with one freshly frosted cupcake in his hands, the hint of a smirk on his face as he held it toward you. “Now, come on, try out this new recipe and see if Katniss is going to shoot me for it.”

You knew your Peeta, you knew him well, so you saw that little smirk. But his eyes held an innocence to them that had you thinking, ‘Why should I doubt him?’ And so, you happily leaned forward, taking a quick bite of the cupcake and savoring the flavor.

“I like it, it’s light. I’m not sure Katniss will like how sweet-”

You’d gasped, and Peeta had laughed, your words cut off as he tilted the cupcake, shoving your nose directly into the blue icing. Your eyes widened as Peeta quickly dropped the cupcake on the counter, lips tugged into a wide grin as he stepped back with his hands held up.

“Now, we don’t want any violence here, darling-”

What he never saw was your hand still on the counter, directly next to the open bag of flour you’d procured just that afternoon. Before he could finish his sentence, a dust cloud of flour was streaking his way, coating his face and his clothing. His eyes went wide, and this time it was you who laughed at the sight before you.

“I’m sorry, what was that about violence?”

“I don’t know, but now you’ve started it,”

Baking was put on hold as you shrieked, diving out of the way as Peeta surged forward with his open hand full of flour, just barely managing to coat the side of your dress in the powdery substance. He wasn’t that lucky, though, as you were fast enough to make it to his tray of cupcakes, taking one in your hand as you readied yourself for attack.

“Alright, if we’re doing this, then we’ve got one ground rule here,” you chimed in as Peeta tilted his head. “We have to save just enough to give to Katniss, and at least a couple to give to Haymitch.”

“Deal,”

War is war, whether it’s fought with guns, people, or, in this case, with freshly baked goods. The counters and the floors were coated in flour, as were both of you, and there was blue icing smeared down your entire face and neck by the time Peeta had his hands on you. That gave you ample time to smash another one on top of his head, unable to contain your grin as laughter rolled out of him as you spread the blue icing throughout his blonde hair.

With the icingless cupcake clattering to the floor, both of you panting like madmen, you were left curled around one another. Peeta’s hands rested on your waist, as they always did whenever he could have them there, as yours lay delicately on his shoulders, tracing little patterns in the flour across his shirt and apron. He leaned in with a cheeky grin you’d come to know well, pressing it messily to your cheek that was still covered in icing as you laughed, similar laughter rolling off of him.

“God, I love you,” he’d whispered into the skin of your cheek, leaning back so he could see you fully. A soft grin fell on your lips as your arms wound their way across his shoulders, hands joining together at the back of his neck.

“I love you too, bread boy,”

Neither of you knew who leaned in first, but did it really matter? Your lips met, molding together in a sweet kiss accented by the sweet taste of the frosting. Laughter was shared, lips still pressed together, as he mumbled yet another ‘I love you’ into his kiss.

The breeze picked up again, filling the mess of a kitchen with the smell of lavender once more. Your head found it’s way to his chest, lying there as Peeta’s hands moved to the small of your back, tugging you as close as he could hold you with his head resting on top of yours as you watched the treeline in the distance, the way the leaves swung gently in the breeze.

Then, you felt it. That deep breath that Peeta took in, followed by the softest of exhales. The same one he always did when those thoughts reinvaded his mind, when the hijacking fought it’s way to the front to remind him of what he’d been made to be, of what the Capitol tried to create out of him.

So, as you did every time it happened, you tightened your hold on the man you loved.

“I’m glad you’re here with me,”

“...there’s nowhere I’d rather be, darling. Not a single damn other place in this world than right here,”