#gadge drabble

[thgfanfictionlibrary]

Not Rated Fics Masterlist (8)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 /

Created: February 2nd, 2024

Last Checked:-----

Campfire-CassandraO (ao3)  Summary: During the Star Squads' early days, Peeta wakes up in the middle of the night and has a chat with Katniss. cellar conversations-CassandraO (ao3)   Summary: Multiple versions of Peeta and Gale discussing who Katniss loves. Canon compliant. All told from Peeta's POV. Chapped Lips, Cold Hands, Warm Heart-Annieoakley1 (ao3)  Summary: Peeta and Katniss work on a school project together on Valentine’s Day. Cold Coffee-Andromedadoesntwrite (ao3)  Summary: Katniss Everdeen is a 26 year old English teacher who one day has an unfortunate run in with a stranger and his coffee. Ruining her day, but little did she know how much of him she was really about to see. Coming Alive-Albinokittens300 (ao3)  Summary: A moment between Katniss and Peeta after she makes the choice to go hunting again. Or, Peeta's PoV as Katniss slowly begins to live again. Cupcake-chele20035 (ao3) Summary: Katniss and Peeta at five, waiting for the spring, sharing a day with their dads and a cupcake… Dandelion fluff-deinde_prandium (ao3)  Summary: Various drabbles and one-shots that I have posted via tumblr. Mostly Modern AU, but with some canon-friendly pieces as well. Almost entirely Everlark, but there is a Gadge piece as well. As the title suggests, expect a lot of fluff. Drips and Drabbles from District 12-Appleblossomgirl (ao3)  Summary: A collection of drabbles posted on Tumblr, mostly written for d12drabbles. Many thanks to the moderators of District 12 Drabbles for the prompts and to @Xerxia for her amazing beta skills and friendship.

For Love (And Money)-HGfanonezillion (ao3) 

Summary: After dating for nearly six months, Peeta reveals an important secret to Katniss.

grow together-Abagail_Snow (ao3)  Summary: Canon compliant drabbles posted over the years.

[withclawandvine]

those olympic edits of athletes running to celebrate with their partners had me thinking about my gadge high school au again so here’s a drabble about that state qualifier that gale secured for his baseball team ok bye 

After a rocky start to the season, the Covington Jays had found their stride; going on a twenty-two game winning streak that put them back in play for the state championship for the first time in over a decade.

But only if they won this final regular-season game, and the Fort Treze Rebels were putting up a hell of a fight. Enough to drag the game into extra innings, going run for run. 

From where he stood at second base, Gale watched the raucous welcome for the runners he brought in turn into shouts of Send it, man! as Bristel jogged up to the plate. Behind him, a reinvigorated home crowd. And at its center, a cluster of tar-black hair and keen gray eyes. 

Noticing they had his attention, Posy jumped up, her gap-toothed grin brighter than the stadium lights as she waved at him enthusiastically with both hands.

No, not just waving — pointing. 

To a girl wearing a pretty white dress, emblazoned with a cobalt pin featuring her own last name in bold letters. While Gale blinked disbelievingly at her, she winked.

Up only one run, they couldn’t afford to give anything up — and that started with Gale. But despite that pressure, he stepped onto the mound with a clear head and something bright and buoyant in his chest.

The first strikeout was swift and decisive: three hard swings that hit nothing but air and shoulderblade. The second — drug out by two fouls and a rogue pitch so high Thom had to jump for it — wasn’t earned so easily. 

The first baseman stepped up to the plate. He was a heavy hitter, and Gale knew that if he got the right pitch, that ball was a goner. 

Gale was known to throw a lethal fastball, but the pitch that really got him attention from scouts was his change-up. It wasn’t something many of his peers had in their arsenals. Batters fell into it like a trap: thinking the ball was coming in hot, only for it to drop to a breezy 81, sailing right below the bat. 

The un-countered momentum of that final swing nearly brought the Rebel to his knees.

The umpire hadn’t even finished calling the strike before a tide of blue and white  swarmed him — rushing in from their positions, tripping over each other clearing the dugout.

Teammates clumsily worked their shoulders under Gale’s legs, lifting him up. And as they jostled him up and down, fellow classmates and family members ran onto the field to join the celebration.

A coach once said that you’d never be able to tell if we was winnin’ or losin’ by lookin’ at Hawthorne’s face. Up five runs or down, Gale remained unruffled and unreadable — getting emotional stimied his game, and letting his opponents see it bolstered theirs. But that was hardly the reason he tolerated hero treatment for only another minute before rolling, throwing his weight down so the team had no choice but to drop him.

And when his cleats hit the ground, and he took off, it wasn’t because he wanted to run away from his team, or their riotous joy. It was because he wasn’t feeling it himself. 

Gale was running for home plate. Or rather, the blonde girl in the white dress standing next to it, diamond dust already smudging her glossy heels. 

He swept her right off of them, wrapping her in a spinning embrace. 

Madge clung to him, her legs locked around his waist and her fingers interlaced behind his neck. She was saying something, but it was lost to the celebrations and the thunder of his own heart. 

As cliche as it seemed, Gale was on top of the damn world.

Trusting Madge had a strong enough hold on him, Gale let go of her waist to cup her face in his hands and kiss her. His lips met hers once, twice, before his smile was too big and toothy, and he had to settle for just staring at her in astonishment. 

His cheeks were starting to hurt. “What’re you doing here?” 

Madge leaned back as far as her grip on his neck would allow, getting a good look at him, that smile, before answering, “As if I’d miss this.” 

Gale was too caught up in it all — the thrill of victory, the reignited hope of getting another, the girl in his arms — to notice the reporter for the local paper until after the blinding flash of the camera.

[strategicundersee]

“What are we? I mean, really?”

then “It’s better this way.”

gadge prompt for drabble pls!

I did two versions of this, but ended up liking this one more, so here you go. It's kind of a childhood friends!au.

summary: gale hawthorne always wanted to join the army, and now that panem's at war, he sees the perfect opportunity for it. for him, it's almost like a dream come true. almost. because there's one person he doesn't want to leave behind.

word count: 734

It was late, even for Madge Undersee and her midnight reads, to show up at his porch. But then again, it was late for Gale to be outside too. According to his wrist watch, it was 4:38 when he first saw her doll-like silhouette walking towards the house.

A smile took over his face almost immediately, mirroring her own.

It threatened to disappear as soon as the first words came out of her mouth.

- I've been told you're gonna break up with me. - She smirked making her way to the stairs, to sit beside him.

- Who told you that? - He jested, not looking up at her.

He's never telling Katniss anything, ever again.

- A little bird who sings in the meadow. - Madge voiced jokingly, not that he didn't know. She was the only one Gale had talked to about it. - But i do have a question.

- You wanna know if it's true or not.

- I want to know... - She sighed, shifting her weight from one leg to another, then finally sitting down - What are we?

- Madge...

- I mean, really. What are we?

- You're my girl. - Gale blurted out simply. It was the truest thing in his universe, the only way he found to say it.

Because while yes, they kissed, cuddled, and took care of each other when sick, there had never been an official label.

They weren't just friends, that he knew for certain. He looked out for her everyday, and felt a mix of extreme anger and heartbreaking pain whenever she was hurt. She'd come to his house for sunday meals and play with his siblings, help his mom with the dishes. He'd feel jealous when somebody asked her out.

There wasn't a label. She was his girl, and that was it.

- Okay. - Madge answered, a tiny pleased smile in her lips once again. At least she wasn't mad at him - And what does that mean?

- Right now? It means that i love you.

- So why are you breaking up with me? We've never... God, we've never been attached to the boyfriend-girlfriend titles, have we?

True, he thinks to himself, they never seemed right anyway. What he and Madge shared... It was stronger than any kind of stupid title.

- I'm going to the army in two weeks - He says, instead of the thousands of words stuck in his throat, all about how he didn't wanna do it - And I don't want you to wait for me.

- Why?

- I want you to be happy, Princess. I don't want you to hold on to something that'll potentially end terribly. I could die, you know.

- Don't say that. - She whimpered - Don't ever say that.

Madge knew it was gonna happen eventually, of course. They talked about it for years, and she'd always laugh when it was brought up, as if she didn't think he'd actually, voluntarily, go through with it.

It certainly didn't seem funny right now.

- Sorry - He muttered. - I won't say it again.

Madge squeezed her eyes shut, a comum reaction of hers to hold back tears. Gale thought of something else to say, a way to comfort her.

Before he could even open his mouth, she leaned in to kiss him.

His hand found her hair in record time, and she kept pulling him closer and closer. Their mouths felt like a perfect match. He didn't want to go, not if it meant never getting one of those kisses again.

Gale hoped she wouldn't ask him to give up on going, because heavens know he would. He'd do anything for her, burn down the world if she wanted to.

- See, that's what I'm talking about - He smiled weakly when they stopped, still breathless - Your kisses are too good to never be given to anybody else if we don't see each other again.

- And if we do?

If we do, I'll ask you to be my only one.

- If we do, Princess... We'll talk about it then. Okay? It's better this way.

- Okay. - She said, side hugging him. - Can i at least write to you?

She shouldn't, Gale knows she shouldn't. But he doesn't have any logical reasons to explain why, or the strength to deny her possible last wish to him, so he nods.

He's never been religious, but while he's kissing her hair, he prays to come out of the war zone alive, for her.

Because, for the first time, he feels like he has to.

[jlalafics]

I would love to read your take on Gadge! Maybe where Katniss learns they've been secretly dating and they are scared of her finding out her two best friends are dating each other but it turns out that Katniss actually thrilled for them?

Hello, hope you enjoy! 

____

“Gale…we need to stop—” Madge’s protest was stopped by her boyfriend’s lips sliding over hers. “—Katniss will be home any minute.”

The two settled back on the couch, their hands still entwined. It had been three blissful months of dating. They had a rocky start, Gale, who was Katniss’—her roommate—childhood friend had been wary of Madge, the pretty blonde who had been brought up in wealth as their former mayor’s daughter.

He had thought that she was slumming—moving into their roughened apartment complex and befriending Katniss, who had come from a grittier part of their district just like him.

However, during a particularly nasty argument, Gale had found out that Madge no longer lived off her parents. In fact, they were barely speaking since her father had practically bartered her to an official’s son to gain a senatorial seat.

The admission had humbled him and when he met her eyes once more, that had been it.

Madge was his and he was hers. Their kiss, that day, sealed the deal.

However, there was the whole issue of telling Katniss.

“You know we should tell her,” Gale suggested carefully. “We’ve hit a milestone. Three months of being your boyfriend is a big fucking deal to me. I want to share it with the people I love and care about.”

Madge sighed, leaning back against him.

“You’re right. I would love to tell every one of those bitches in my office that that grey-eyed fox that visits Katniss is mine. I almost ripped Glimmer a new one when she went into detail over what she’d like to do if she got you in her office alone.”

��I didn’t realize that sales reps were so catty,” Gale remarked with a snort. “Don’t you sell medicinal marijuana? And calming herbal gummies?”

“They’re supplements, not miracle workers.” Madge stood, holding out her hand. “Why don’t we invite Peeta to join us and Katniss for dinner? Then we can tell both our roommates that we’re officially dating.”

“Sounds perfect.” Taking her hand, Gale stood, and they left the apartment crossing the wide hall to he and Peeta’s apartment. He fished out his key and unlocked the door.  “The good thing is that he’s been in a great mood lately—”

Entering the apartment, Gale and Madge discovered the reason for his roommate’s good mood.

Some things in life should be left unseen.

For example, your childhood friend’s bare ass straddling your equally naked roommate.

From behind him, Madge yelped, “Holy hell!”

The two quickly separated and Peeta grabbed a pillow—thankfully—covering his junk.

“What the fuck, Gale?” His roommate scowled at him. “Could you be a little louder next time you come in?”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t realize that you would be in here fucking Katniss!” Gale retorted.

Katniss, sitting next to Peeta, arms and legs crossed, grinned smugly.

“Excuse me, if anyone was doing the fucking, it was me.”

Madge stared up at the ceiling, trying to avoid the nudity. 

“How long has this been going on?”

“Around the time, you and Gale started dating,” Katniss told her.

Gale looked to his friend. “You knew?”

“I walked into the apartment while you two were mid-kiss and just quietly stepped back into the hallway,” his friend replied. “Unlike you, I have a little more tact. I decided to hang here until I thought it would be safe to come back.” Katniss turned to Peeta, the two beaming at one another. “Peeta was very accommodating.”

“Gross,” Gale replied, turning to look to Madge. “Are you okay?”

His girlfriend’s eyes remained on the ceiling, but he saw her lips tremble slightly.

“Katniss, are you upset because we kept this from you?”

It only took two strides before Katniss was gathering both Madge and Gale in her arms.

“Of course not, I love you both,” she assured her friend. “I knew that when it was the right time, you’d tell me.” Madge finally lowered her gaze to the ceiling to find her friend’s greys full of happiness as they pulled apart. “I really couldn’t be happier that you two finally realized that you cared for one another.”

“Thanks for letting us take the time to gather ourselves,” Gale said. “We were actually going to invite you and Peeta to dinner to break the news.”

Katniss nodded. “Dinner sounds good.”

“Great,” Gale replied. “Now will you put some fucking clothes on?”

His friend smirked. “Don’t be mad because I have an awesome body.”

“You do,” Peeta agreed, his eyes full of tenderness. He stood up, throw pillow still covering his front. “Come on, love. I think most of our clothes are in a heap on my bedroom floor.”

Taking Katniss’ hand, he led her out of the room��but, not before Gale and Madge got a full look at his ass.

“Now those are some baker’s buns,” Madge remarked, and Gale turned to her. She chuckled at his raised brow. “Me and Katniss had a very drunken talk about Peeta once. I should’ve known then that she had a little thing for him.”

“That was more of Katniss and Peeta that I needed to see,” he told her. “Good thing, Katniss is practically asexual in my head.”

“I feel like I should be more bothered by all of this, but I’m actually relieved.” Madge reached for him, her arms wrapping around his neck. “Now may I get a kiss from my boyfriend?”

“Gladly.”

Taking Madge into his arms, Gale dipped his head down and kissed her, finally happy to have it all out in the open.

Though he could’ve done with less nudity.

FIN.

[d3ndroica]

after party

I can do this, Madge told herself. She pressed her hands against the fabric of her dress.

I can do this, Gale thought, as he straightened the tie it took him four attempts to get tied properly.

Here we go, Madge steeled herself as she checked her coat and found the right reception hall.

Here we go, Gale breathed as he acknowledged a coworker walking through the lobby, heading for the hotel ballroom.

What did I do to deserve this, Madge muttered to herself as she flashed a fake smile to yet another political somebody who supposedly knew her father.

What did I do to deserve this, Gale wondered as a waiter proffered a tray of skewered meatballs.

Fantastic, Madge thought, as the social media coordinator tried to chat her up.

Fantastic, Gale grinned, as his boss handed out their holiday bonuses.

Time to go, Madge breathed a sigh of relief and checked her purse for her valet ticket.

Time to go, Gale sighed as he headed for the lobby, flying high.

Shit, Madge scowled at the sight of her old high school nemesis standing in the lobby.

Shit, Gale gaped when his high school crush stepped off the elevator.

This is a terrible idea, Madge chided herself as a well-dressed and friendly Gale Hawthorne offered to buy her a drink, but why the hell shouldn't she take him up on it?

This is a terrible idea, Gale thought as Madge tossed back a tequila shot.

I can't believe this is happening, Madge puzzled as she divulged her lousy evening.

I can't believe this is happening, Gale marveled as he explained about his office party.

Fuck me, Madge sighed, her pulse racing from the warmth of his gray eyes when he looked at her that way.

Fuck me, Gale breathed as she bent to take off her heels, her hair tumbling over her shoulder as she leaned on his arm.

This is right, Madge concluded as they stepped off the elevator.

This is right, Gale knew, when she accepted the ring.

I love you, she whispered on their wedding day, overwhelmed by it all.

I love you, he said to mother and child, overwhelmed by it all.

[cranberry-cosmo]

does anyone want to write gadge in this romantic february?

[porchwood]

Cupid & Psyche!Gadge Drabble

Because someone will inevitably assume (since I managed to write something): no, things are not better. Lucky’s heart issues have stabilized, more or less, for which I’m immensely grateful, but now we’re looking at $$ tests to see if she might have Cushing’s disease (which I don’t even want to think about) and we’ve been adding acupuncture (yes, again) to try to ease her stubborn separation anxiety - at $65 a pop. To top it off, she hurt one of her front legs somehow on Thursday (and has a slight but persistent limp, which seems to respond fairly well to her CBD drops), so we’re monitoring to see if an x-ray/professional assessment is needed. :(

And let’s not even get into all the non-dog worries. 

Okay, now that that’s out of the way, here’s what happened on the writing front yesterday. I’ve been getting back into Greek mythology lately and was kicking around the idea of writing a few (VERY BRIEF) drabbles with various pairings in fave myths. (Seriously, Janek/Raisa/Jack as Theseus/Ariadne/Dionysus - with Raisa’s twin Luka as the Minotaur - is the best idea I have yet to write!) Because I love Cupid and Psyche wildly, I was contemplating various pairings that might fit the bill (not in lieu of Honey-God, mind - in addition to!) and of course, Gadge was top of the list. As it was my day off, I made myself a latte and crawled back in bed with Lucks, but before I let myself crack open the next book in my pile, I wanted to quickly type up a paragraph or so of ideas I had for Cupid and Psyche!Gadge.

Somehow, three hours later I had about 4600 words. I haven’t written like that in longer than I can remember. It’s still extremely unpolished and may never get finished, but that seems to be forgivable in rapidly written drabbles, and I thought I’d share it here just in case anyone’s interested. (Tagging @kat-of-a-different-color and @feelingjane in particular as I thought you might like to see this. ❤) And lest ye worry: there is no Galeniss here, just Gale thinking he has everything figured out. ;)

Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps. - Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing

Contrary to other accounts, his mother was not vain or jealous; indeed, she was an ordinary domestic goddess – if powerful and remarkably beautiful to look upon – who thought nothing of pausing on her way to wash the soiled underthings of an ailing beggar.

He had never enjoyed his vocation in any part. After all, the birds and beasts managed these things every season without his interference. The female chose whoever won – often, whoever survived – the fight. Whoever made the most magnificent display. Whoever offered the finest gift, or prepared the loveliest home.

But humans, tiresome creatures, wanted love – affection, tender feelings, right at the outset. Oh, some accepted that these things came later, with offspring and a secure living, and would take the match that parents and practicality presented. A girl impatient to leave her father’s house could do no better than a virile widower, and a plump plain woman made a finer wife than any beauty, who would turn no fewer heads as a mother than she did as a maiden. When humans remained stubbornly blind he would intercede as needed, but more often than not, he was unconcerned with the outward appeal of the match to the individuals involved. Their progeny was of primary significance, though they knew it not, and while Galen could not read the future, he had witnessed centuries of the outcomes of wild pairings and knew that reproductive compatibility was integral to the success of a match.

Naturally, he approached his own match with a similar pragmatism. He had observed her for several years, for she came often to the woods, and as an immortal, he might grow impatient but never hasty, for he had all the time in the world. She was of exceptional stock – a wise, beautiful herbalist mother and a strong, clever hunter father – and, since her father’s untimely death a few years before, had proven herself an entirely capable survivor, as adept at hunting and foraging as any wild thing.

Perhaps she was, he considered with a frown, not fully ripened. Oh, she was of an age to wed and bed and bear, but she was still so very small and slight, with next to none of the curves that implied fecundity. Her grandsire had been similarly ill-favored, he recalled, and her stubborn granddam soon saw where that lead. Galen had regretted this half-century that he had not claimed Ashpet the huntress for his mate, for she had been a veritable mountain lioness, lithe and fierce and so very beautiful, but his mother had put her foot down – and her distaff, across his knuckles – and sternly commanded that this lady be allowed to make her own match, and he not consider her for another moment.

His mother had thus far made no similar protest against Katniss, and Galen was anxious to act, for as he had witnessed in that cosmic mis-match some fifty years past, he could be subverted by men who courted like birds. Asa the weakling – Ashpet had saved him from a mountain lioness, by all that was holy! – had wooed almost entirely as a bird, presenting his beloved with bright bits of ribbon and shiny objects, and though outwardly unyielding, she spent the duration of that courtship secretly laying up stores of lavish provisions and – to Galen’s utter shock – veritably threw herself into the weakling’s reedy arms when he finally caught her at it.

His urge to act upon Katniss, the little huntress, was motivated by a similar scenario. A baker’s son – the youngest of three; a solid match, if not a fine one – had been watching her since childhood and had slowly, carefully commenced a courtship both bird-like and appealing to a bird, like a hermit in the woods with a loaf of bread, patiently drawing a curious sparrow to eat from his hand. Katniss was much wilder than any sparrow, but there had been none to provide for her since her father’s death, and the baker’s youngest son – a stout, strong youth – was almost desperate to take on the office, with his surreptitious gifts of bread and apples and coal.

The blackbird’s heart was not yet affected, Galen was certain, but she was pragmatic like himself, and winter was drawing nigh. The baker’s youngest son would be warmer than any bricks in her bed, and his family was a fit and fruitful line. Mating was mating, he told himself with a scowl, and whatever gestures came before – kisses, caresses, and the like – only prepared the bodies for a successful copulation, but still he bristled at the thought of that broad blond boy covering the little huntress like a stag, of the gasps and pleasant cries she would utter beneath him, and the babes that would fill her womb as a result.

Pregnancy would ripen her hills and valleys, Galen decided, and he could truly wait no longer. He reached into his pack for a coil of sharp golden wire, then paused – at a scent, not a sound: lilacs, heady and purple and entirely out of season – and huffed with displeasure, for once again, his quarry was not hunting alone.

For reasons that he could not comprehend, a friendship had risen up between his huntress and the only daughter of the village mayor, a friendship that saw his huntress now and again donning pretty frocks and spending time indoors at idle nicities like book-reading and playing that enormous piece of furniture called a piano – which, he supposed, he could allow, for her father had been both musician and storyteller – but what was more, and far worse: his huntress often brought the mayor’s daughter into the woods with her. She had taught that girl – a girl whose table would never be empty, even if she married a beggar – to wield a bow with deadly force, though the huntress did all the butchering herself, sparing her companion’s eyes and fine pale hands.

The mayor’s daughter, though wealthy by human standards, was of far inferior stock to his huntress. Her father was slight and balding – though he was not yet old – and had willing sired only one child upon his delicate, perpetually ailing wife, who had once been a twin and never recovered from the untimely loss of her other half. Twins were a fine legacy to marry into, Galen allowed – two strong offspring where others produced only one – but the baker’s wife had also been a twin, and therefore Katniss’s suitor offered such a possibility in his bloodline.

He would have to act swiftly indeed.

The mayor’s daughter – perpetually scented with lilacs as she was – lagged a little behind today, collecting the last of the acorns not claimed by bolls or squirrels, while the huntress moved noiselessly on with her bow. They would meet up soon, however, so there was no time to waste. 

Invisible against the trunk where he watched and waited, Galen shaped the snare-loop with the practiced ease of centuries. They would wed today and bed tonight. Everything was prepared. His lodge swept clean by his mother’s hearth-maidens, fires laid, a feast to be prepared as soon as he gave the word. His den blanketed with the plushest furs – for he had never done this either, though the process seemed simple enough, and he had observed through the centuries that a few creature comforts served both parties well, most especially in the first union. He would feed her and groom her and mount her – carefully, of course, for she was such a small thing – and when he had planted his seed he would lay her in the furs and nuzzle her bare throat, for she would be his then, sated and submissive to such a vulnerable gesture.

Unless, he thought with a frown, she was a great cat like her granddam, and should pull away with a snarl when their mating was complete. Galen’s heart was not set upon the little tendernesses that seemed to follow so naturally on the heels of a successful copulation, but the spilling of seed seemed to drain both gods and men, and remaining upon and inside his naked mate as his vitality returned seemed a surpassing pleasant prospect.

Attraction was an irksome thing to Galen, for it sprang up untimely – where he had neither time nor interest – and while he wanted the little huntress for several reasons, simple carnal hunger was least among them. He turned sharply away from the sight of her slender shape melting among the trees and gasped at a sudden pain lancing the tip of his right trigger finger.

Some fool snake had bitten him – its last act, he thought with bitter relish, for immortal blood was more deadly to beasts than any venom – and he glanced down to see not a serpent but the razor golden wire of his snare slicing a thin, shallow line across the fingertip.

He cursed soft and viciously and looked about him, frantic for the retreating back of the huntress. He could pursue her, of course, but anyone he saw in the process would capture his devotion, and while there were few folk in the woods at any given moment, there was currently at least one other –

“Katniss?” called the mayor’s daughter quietly – a hush entirely suitable for one in the woods – and Galen cursed again, bitterly, because that one word in her voice yanked at his heart like a lead rope. If he looked at her, all would be lost, yet every fiber of his being was already straining to do so.

For reasons he had never understood, heart-snares were especially powerful on immortals.

“Katniss, I believe I have found the roots you wanted,” she called in a slightly louder voice, and there was a smile in it now.

Galen ground his back against the rough bark, hoping the discomfort might cut through the longing, and gritted his teeth, even as his loins stirred, delighted by the prospect of mating after centuries of being impatiently suppressed and ignored. The idiot girl – the lovely, darling, supple, stunning idiot – was drawing nearer, and he realized she had not seen the direction in which the huntress departed. He had invariably made some small sound to draw her attention – for he was invisible only, not silent – or perhaps she had heard his quiet curses and thought it was her friend behind the tree, struggling with roots of her own.

“For the pigment,” she added, her voice – sweet and silky as cream – so near she was surely upon him, and Galen squeezed his eyelids as tightly as he could, against every urge in him screaming to the contrary. If he did not look, perhaps it was not too late.

Her skin smelled of goat’s milk soap and dried lavender, and the heady pulse of lilacs from the hollow of her throat, beneath her ears and between her breasts was almost overwhelming. Heavy purple buds bursting into clusters of fragrant blooms after a winter’s gestation, and her belly would be ripe when they blossomed if he planted himself in her now, tonight, in that den of lush furs…

“For your sweetheart,” said the mayor’s daughter with an impatient little laugh and rounded the tree, and Galen’s eyes snapped open in consternation, for his huntress – for one last stubborn moment he clung to her in his mind – surely had no sweetheart.

The mayor’s daughter looked into his eyes and gave a little start, not because she saw him but because she saw no one, where surely her friend must be. “Katniss,” she called again, puzzled, and walked away, and it took every ounce of Galen’s immortal might not to follow her.

He was livid, in love, and raging with longing. She was beautiful – even pragmatically he could admit as much – still slender in a maiden’s fashion, but soft swells peaked the front of her dress, and her skin was all silk and cream, like her voice. Wavy fair hair – not black like his own, like the huntress’s – tied back with a pink ribbon, deft pale hands smudged with earth, and her breath was fragrant with the wild strawberries she loved; for which she had first braved the woods, and which might still be found in hidden places.

Hidden places – how he craved to bare her belly and buttocks, to uncover those soft swells upon her chest! Breasts might be no mystery, not to the son of a domestic goddess, and every mother presents a nipple for her young to suckle from, but he had never seen this girl’s, and their capacity for suckling infants suddenly became secondary to how they might feel beneath his fingers.

He tore off in search of his mother and found her in the humble pavilion at the heart of her sacred hazel grove, mending the trousers of some supplicant, and she clucked at his wound, shaking her head even as she set aside her work for a little roll of clean linen. “You are too impatient with your knives,” she chided.

“This came not from a knife,” he retorted. “I cut myself with the golden wire.”

His mother’s countenance brightened at this, though she endeavored to restrain a smile. “Had you shaped the snare already?” she wondered, though it was clear from her manner that she knew the answer well enough.

“I was distracted for but a moment,” he snapped, drawing his hand away as she made to wrap the finger. “Don’t bind it – heal it. Take it away.”

She laughed at last, both delightedly and uproariously. “Oh my son, you know better than anyone that such is beyond the power of any god! Come, she cannot be so very loathsome, and you love her already.”

“It was the wrong maiden,” he groaned, but in resignation now, more than rage. “Two there were, and the huntress moved out of sight.”

“So it is Myron-the-Mayor’s daughter,” his mother realized, and to his horror, nodded approval. “Katniss would not have suited, darling one. She was too like you to begin with, and already she loves the baker’s youngest son. Did not you know this?”

He thought of the mayor’s daughter’s words, of the pigment for Katniss’s sweetheart, and his brow darkened. “But I laid no snare for her, and most assuredly not toward him,” he insisted.

“And like her granddam, she was tamed like a bird,” his mother soothed. “The baker’s son loved her without your help as well; it happens often enough, as you know, and he will make her the happiest of women. They will bear strong, lovely children.”

“She was to bear strong, lovely children with me,” Galen groused, but petulantly, as a child who covets another’s toy even as he holds his favorite in his hands.

“And had you snared her, she would have swiftly come to resent you,” his mother explained, “for you do not perpetually smell of bread, nor have you the patient tenderness of that gentle baker’s boy.”

“I do not smell of lavender and goat’s milk neither,” he said dryly. “I am not some perfumed popinjay, as the mayor’s child will surely wish.”

“Her name is Madeline, and the sooner your tongue embraces it, the better,” his mother urged, but merrily. “To resist the draw will only exhaust you while delaying the inevitable, and besides, consider the company she chose: a slim dark huntress who smells of loam and pine, and as like you as a sister.”

“Hardly,” Galen snorted, for he had a sister who, while small and dark and lovely, was decidedly more delicate in her ways than the huntress would ever be. But the struggle with his newborn love and longing was painful now; it had spread all the way to his toes and fingertips and the very roots of his hair, and his mind – repeating No, not her! over and over again in a cannon-like roar – was like a castle under siege, powerless and defeated, with only shouts of fury and protest left to volley.

His mother pressed the linen firmly against his cut fingertip and murmured, “Love her, Galen, for you do already. I know the lodge was prepared this day; I will bring her there tonight, and a holy man to perform the rite. Your body knows what will happen next, and there will be such joy in it. Mate with your wife and seed her with the babes you long for.”

“I will not,” he whispered, but weakly, for now he could think of little else.

“I will bring her at dusk, and the holy man,” his mother answered patiently, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “You may arrive whenever you like, but she will lie in your den tonight.”

Galen stormed off into the woods, rebellious to the last, but his deft hands found wild strawberries wherever he passed and he stuffed his pockets with the small bright fruits. I shall make a breakfast of them, he told himself crossly, but he knew it would pain him to consume even one when his beloved – curses, for now so she was! – loved them so. He would guide each tiny crimson bead between her soft lips; perhaps bring her to bed in such a fashion – or after, when they were spent with mating, would keep her there thus.

Would she be receptive, he wondered suddenly, to the marriage or even, simply, to him? Galen knew himself to be uncommonly handsome, but this did not always ensure pleasure in a match, nor indeed, in the mating. And only he had been affected by the snare; she might look on him with revulsion, as sometimes brides did when they were given no choice in their union.

Madeline… His mind flinched even as it shivered with bliss at the name. He would not call her that, nor think of her thus.

Madge, he determined. A quick, rough, grunt of a diminutive with none of those exquisite undulations of the additional syllables. She wanted to be a woodswoman; Madge suited such a one just fine.

He plucked autumn roses from climbing briars and hummed vigorously to drive the exquisite melody of Mad-e-line, Mad-e-line! from the delighted shadows of his mind, and without quite realizing how, he found himself – rendered invisible once more – standing in the village square, just outside the mayor’s house.

He drew up to the parlor window and looked within, where his mother, wasting no time, addressed the mayor, his wife, and Madel – Madge! – on a sofa. His beloved had exchanged her woodswoman’s weeds for a pretty white dress, almost as though she had anticipated this meeting, or what must follow it, and she was frowning thoughtfully at whatever his mother was saying.

Hazelle, of course, had not presented her true self to them but was neatly outfitted as dowager of means, and Galen pressed his ear to the glass, curious what she was saying to obtain this maiden for him by day’s end. But in so doing, he saw that there was another occupant in the room: a youth – the butcher’s youngest son, cousin to the baker’s; every bit as gentle and twice as merry. It had amused Galen now and again to think of setting this boy’s heart upon the unattainable village beauty, a seamstress’s daughter, but he had never bothered to set the snare, and suddenly he realized that this boy, like his cousin, might have courted of his own volition and even been accepted.

Was he already Madeline – MADGE’S! – intended?

The pane shattered with the force of Galen’s jealousy and he leapt with supernatural swiftness to avoid the shards, neatly vaulting into the parlor.

“What on earth?” the girl exclaimed, eyes wide, though she did not seem afraid, and she stepped forward to investigate the broken window.

Galen, still invisible, drew back soundlessly and as near the sill as he could, but still she stood face-to-face with him, though once more she knew it not. Her eyes were a soft shade of blue, like little glimpses of sky on a cloudy day, and her lips parted slightly – exquisitely – at a thought.

It was all he could do not to take her in his arms and discover why lovers so enjoyed pressing their mouths together.

“Again,” she mused, frowning at the place where he stood then, curiously, over her shoulder at his mother. “Twice today no one was where someone should be,” she remarked, returning to her parents. “In the woods this morning and now again, at the window, and I smell the woods as though I stood in their midst.”

“He that would wed you lives in the very heart of the woods,” Hazelle volunteered with a small, shrewd smile, for she knew full well why the glass had shattered and why the mayor’s daughter suddenly smelled the woods in her parlor. “Perhaps you anticipate him already, or the home you would share.”

“With respect to the lady,” interjected the butcher’s son, stepping between Hazelle and the mayor’s daughter, “this is an impossible proposition. Wedded tonight in some stranger’s home, with no family present or welcome.”

“Your village priest will officiate,” Hazelle reminded them – perhaps a little hastily, sensing her son’s jealousy ascending once more. “I will ensure his transport both ways, and he will assure you that all is well.”

“I have no right to protest,” the butcher’s son declared, and looked very much as though he wished to take the girl’s hands in his own as he gazed at her. “For all my esteem and affection, there is no understanding between us, but I present myself as an alternative just the same.”

“You know I adore you, Judah,” said Galen’s beloved, and she leaned forward to kiss the butcher’s son on one cheek.

Something snapped in Galen’s mind at this gesture, and he would have shattered every lamp in the house had his mother not silently stayed him with her steady gaze.

“But we are not for each other,” the girl went on gently. “There is another you mean most earnestly to court, and for my part, I would meet this strange bridegroom.”

“But you cannot change your mind if you like him not,” her father cautioned. “We have only this – estimable,” he added with a deferential bow of the head, “lady’s assurances; the man himself would not come to meet you, let alone to offer his hand!”

“He could not,” Hazelle remarked wryly. “For he is overcome by the force of his feelings, so swiftly kindled at the sight of your daughter, and feared he should lose all grace and eloquence in her presence. His love for you is presently like a thunderstorm,” she told the girl. “Loud and furious, but by eventide it will have blown itself out into a gentle rainfall.”

Madeline – Madge, sweet Madge – considered these words as Galen held his breath. She did not want the butcher’s boy – blessed day! – but his mother had spoken truly. He was furious with love for her, and furious for loving her, and perhaps eventide was too optimistic an interval.

But the mayor’s daughter extended one fine white hand to Hazelle, and it was all Galen could do not to stride across the room and kiss each finger in turn. “I look forward to meeting the storm that is your son,” she said graciously, and Galen’s heart leapt halfway out of his chest. “Allow me to dress for the journey, and I shall meet you outside the home of the priest.”

Once departed from the parlor, Madeline’s composure crumbled to dust. She adored Judah just as she had said; they had been friends since childhood, and he would have made the very finest of husbands, just as Peeta was shortly to become for Katniss. Whatever had possessed her to shake hands with this mysterious lady from many villages hence, who offered a bridegroom she was not allowed to meet or even see till their nuptials – to take place this very eve?

Because you love the woods, came the answer from somewhere deep inside her. The dowager’s son was a huntsman, with a lodge in the heart of a private woods; this alone would have drawn her powerfully, but again and again the dowager spoke of love and longing – and matter-of-factly, as though these were simple things to observe and quantify.

Madeline had never been loved by a man, let alone wildly, let alone a huntsman of great means with a lodge in a private woods, and the prospect made her tremble with anticipation.

The dowager had caught her wrist ere she could depart and murmured, so gently, He will want children, and soon. Can you consent to that as well?

He will be my husband, she had answered, in a voice steadier than she had thought she could muster in response to such a statement. I cannot promise success or speed in conception, but I would naturally consent to his attempts.

She thought now of these attempts as she filled a satchel with her precious bottle of lilac water, the little cake of lavender soap made by Katniss’s sister, clean underthings, hair ribbons, and her pretty white dress, as she exchanged it for the woolen one she had worn in the woods this morning. The huntsman might prefer her thus arrayed, and it would be easier to demonstrate her small prowess in the woods in such garb, did he seek for it.

The dowager, a striking woman, declared that her son was surpassing handsome to look on, and as she was surely of an age with the mayor and his wife, the huntsman could scarcely be older than Madeline herself. No gouty graybeard, then, and a huntsman could hardly be corpulent.

Madeline had never even drawn close to a man before, save for the moment in the parlor when she kissed Judah’s cheek, and she shivered at the thought of a huntsman’s dexterous hands on her body.

At that selfsame moment, Galen also trembled at the very same thought, for, unable to tear himself from his beloved’s presence, he had followed, unseen, to her bedroom and watched almost desperately as she undressed to her shift, then donned the rough woolen dress she had been wearing when first he loved her. The linen undergarment was not so very thin, but there were perceptible peaks beneath the bodice, and the material lay close against the soft contours of her hips, and he ached and raged at the sight, and what it evoked in him.

He would mate with her tonight, he conceded, but he would not linger when the act was done, nor offer any caresses beyond those necessary to bring their bodies together. He would not hurt her, of course, for angry as he was, he loved her like his own flesh, but he would leave it to his mother’s hearth-maidens to tend her before and after. She would not even need to see him…

She would not even need to see him!

Somehow, this epiphany soothed him like no thoughts of love had yet managed to do. Between the natural darkness of nightfall and the invisibility he could assume at will, this girl he most ardently did not want to love would never look on him. He would be hidden from her entirely – even within her arms, if so he chose!

He wanted her with all his might, and loved her with every fiber of his being, and he desperately wanted none of it.

He knew that the huntress was no longer a possibility, though the grief of that realization had quickly dulled to simple disappointment, for he had not truly loved her, merely sought her for how well she would suit him. No, in this moment Galen most assuredly did not want to love anyone at all, ever, but alas, his heart was caught and held between the fine white hands that were presently closing and shouldering the satchel.

[thgfanfictionlibrary]

Teen and Up Rated Fics Masterlist (7)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 /

Created: September 13th, 2023

Last Checked:----

Squeaky Clean-SoThere (AO3)

Summary: Katniss experiences confusing new feelings when she helps her injured best friend. Modern AU inspired by the Everlark Drabble Challenge prompt from anais117: Katniss or Peeta recovering from surgery and the other helping them bathe.

Taste of the Toasting Cake-ally147writes (Tumblr)

Summary: In-Panem, no-games AU. Gadge toasting with a supportive Katniss in attendance who talks with Peeta about his previous misunderstandings about her relationship with Gale.

The Ashes-papofglencoe (AO3)

Summary: Peeta returns to Katniss in District 12 following his release from the Capitol. Canon-compliant. Pre-epilogue. Contains book dialogue.

The Awkward In-Between-LilyMaid (AO3)

Summary: Days after winning the 74th Hunger Games Katniss recognized her life was changing, not just her home. She was already mourning for that old life, when things were difficult, yet so simple. With a tightening in her chest and a fear she didn't understand, she wondered what would be left. Cannon Divergent AU- pre Catching Fire

The Ballad of Snares and Arrows-monabus (AO3)

Summary: "At the end of the day, it’s no different. Hunting is hunting, regardless of what’s at the receiving end of Katniss’ arrow. All that matters is surviving, staying alive. No matter the cost. If I were in the Hunger Games, I would stop at nothing to make it out alive." What was going on in Gale’s mind during the 74th Hunger Games? What exactly did the audience back in District Twelve see on their screens? A chance to explore the moments of the Games that Katniss never saw — all through Gale’s eyes.

The First Year-thinkinthankin (AO3)

Summary: The first year back in Twelve, an extension of the last chapter of Mockingjay. Picks up from "Peeta, bearing a warm loaf of bread, shows up with Greasy Sae. She makes us breakfast and I feed all my bacon to Buttercup." A year of Katniss and Peeta making do, breaking down, and "growing back together." Working on the book. Baking. Hunting. "Real." Sitting around the fire with Haymitch. A birthday, a toasting. "Strange bits of happiness."

The Fruit Stand-Mollywog (AO3)

Summary: The stand was unremarkable in itself, except for the woman behind the antique register. She had been singing when they approached the tent but had stopped upon noticing them. It was a song Peeta couldn’t identify but left him feeling nostalgic for things he’d never experienced; at least not in this lifetime.

The Hunger Games from Peeta's POV-thismustbeagoodidea (AO3)

Summary: “I don’t think it’s going to work out. Winning…won’t help in my case.” I want to go back to the charming lies. I planned for this, so why does it feel like something in my gut is rotting? “Why ever not?” Caesar asks. I drag in a deep breath. All that strategizing over how to win the most sympathy, and now I feel like I’ve lost control of my face. My mask is slipping, my cheeks growing hot. There are so many eyes on me, all of them hungry. I meet Haymitch’s gaze in the crowd. His hard expression isn’t exactly comforting, but at least he isn’t enjoying this the way everyone else is. I feel my mouth open as though pulled with a string. “Because…because…she came here with me.”

The List-orphan_account (AO3)

Summary: "The list that Dr. Aurelius and I had made together was burning a hole in my pocket. A list of triggers. A list of things I should avoid." Peeta comes home after the war.

The Lost Girl-Mollywog (AO3)

Summary: Finnick had received a letter from Lord Abernathy before the start of the season alerting him of his niece's debut. He had more accurately instructed him to “watch out” for her. Finnick still wasn’t sure whether it was meant as a request or a caution. At present it felt more like a warning. How Finnick and Katniss became unlikely allies.

[litlifelover]

Breakfast For Mom

Short Gadge!family drabble because I saw the pic on pinterest (like every other pic I ever use for stories) and simply had to write this ... and well, @xerxia31 told me I should write it, and I tend to listen to her when it comes to this. There's a reason why she's my mentor, after all. ;) Thanks for the edits, dear.

That's it, folks. Hope you enjoy, would love to hear from you. Likes, reblogs and tags are like rainbows and unicorns. ;)

Thanks for taking time to read!

Read on AO3

"Can I have some more bacon, Dad?"

Gale sighs but can't hold back the smirk either. Hunter stands with his plate beside the stove, looking longingly at the pan with the sizzling meat in it.

"You realize we're making breakfast for Mom, right? There won't be anything left if you eat everything I cook, Champ." At the same time he puts two more strips on his son's plate. The boy grins back, one of his front teeth still missing, before digging into the meal. Hunter is the one who reminds him the most about himself at this age: Active, lean and tall, and always hungry.

Molly, his youngest daughter, giggles and interrupts his musings. He looks at the counter to his left, where three of his kids help preparing Mommy's birthday breakfast. The twins sit side by side on top of the counter. Noah still holds the measuring cup they needed for the pancake mix, while Gemma helps the youngest one, who stands on a stool in front of them, taking sips from a glass of water.

"Not so fast, Molly! Or you spill everything on your PJ's," she laughs, and continues trying to keep her sister dry. The older girl is his wife through and through, from her laugh up to the way her hair slightly curls.

"More bacon, please!" Hunter pipes in at that moment, toothless grin in place again.

Gale playfully rolls his eyes, pushes his glasses further up his nose, and puts another stripe of bacon on the plate his son holds out to him.

"It's impossible to sleep in this house," a grumpy voice interrupts at that moment, and the four fair-haired heads of his kids turn to the kitchen entrance. Samantha shuffles into the room and flops down on one of the barstools at the kitchen island, followed by her younger sister Lily.  

"Good morning, sleepyheads," Gale greets his two eldest daughters before he flips another pancake. Sam props her head in her hands, her dark hair spilling wildly around her. By now she's reached an age where it isn't always the easiest to communicate with her. She's fifteen, headstrong and proud the same way he was at her age. And while he was the parent she went to with problems when she was younger, by now Madge is her confidant.

"Mom will be downstairs any minute," Lily announces then, which makes her siblings cry out in excitement. She helps Molly down from the stool, swiftly followed by Gemma and Noah jumping down from the counter and Hunter forgetting all about another piece of bacon. Even Sam picks herself up and joins her brothers and sisters in front of the table.

Gale turns off the stove and places the platters with the food on the breakfast table before he joins his kids. For a couple moments everything is quiet as they listen for steps on the stairs. When they finally hear movement from upstairs an excited whisper falls over them.

"Daddy! The flowers!" Noah remembers then, and Gale hurries into the pantry where he hid the flowers from Madge.

He has just placed them in the middle of the table, when his wife walks into the kitchen.

"Good mor-"

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" they announce all together, a whirlwind of voices and laughter. The younger kids run over to their mother and embrace her all at the same time, nearly pushing her over in their excitement. Her laughter rings like bells through the room.

Sam and Lily follow as soon as the younger siblings make a little room.

"Happy birthday, Mom," Sam whispers and hugs her tightly. By now she's as tall as her mother. Lily wraps her arms around Madge's waist and rests her head under her chin for a moment, repeating the sentiment.

"Look, Mommy!" Molly calls then, her hair spilling out of the ponytail, "Breakfast!" Her eyes sparkle, and she's as hyped as if she'd eaten a whole package of Reese's Pieces.

"I can see that! Thank you, guys!" Madge smiles brightly, and brushes her hand over Sam's head, who has still an arm wrapped around her.

In one harmonic motion the Hawthorne's move over to the table. The kids chatter. Sam helps Molly in her high chair. Lily fills the twin's glasses with orange juice. Hunter announces proudly that he helped with the bacon.

Gale steps over to Madge and wraps her into his arms. Her hands automatically slip under the hem of his shirt at the back.

"Happy birthday, baby!" he whispers and presses a soft kiss to her lips. "Six kids later and you're still the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Nobody's going to believe you turn forty today."

"You're a charmer, Gale," Madge snickers, her cheeks the color of rosebuds. Six kids later and he's also able to still make her blush. She rises on her tiptoes and kisses him again.

"Mommy! The pancakes are getting cold!" Gemma calls then, putting the third pancake on her own plate, before doing the same for her twin brother. Sam cuts one of them in pieces for Molly, Lily finishes filling the last glass with orange juice, and Hunter is munching away on another piece of bacon.

"Well, my loves," Madge smiles at them. "You all outdid yourself. I think this is the best birthday breakfast I've ever had." She sits down in her usual seat, between Molly and Noah. Gale sits down on the opposite side of the table.

"You say that every year," Samantha smirks, before taking a bite from her bagel with cream cheese. Her siblings all confirm this with nods and shouts of That's true.

Madge beams at them, her eyes travelling over her family; it makes Gale's heart nearly burst out of love. He winks at her as he takes a bite of bacon, which makes her giggle like a schoolgirl.

He watches her interacting with their kids; helping Molly with her food, telling Hunter to slow down on the bacon, asking Sam about the upcoming Junior Prom.

Taking another bite from his breakfast, he smirks to himself and is happy to be able to say: Six kids later and he's still so very much in love with her. 

[thgdiscovery]

may I boost the Ao3 (also shewaksupwiththesun) I just got(also shewaksupwiththesun), particularly the multi-chap Gale fic I'm writing at the moment called 'If You Would and You Could?'

Of course! Please forgive the delay in our response. We featured the one you wanted as well as selected two others as we typically choose 3.

THG

Writer: @shewakesupwiththesun-If You Would and You Could? (NR, Gadge, Everlark, Rory, Vick, Posy, Mayor Undersee, Mrs. Undersee)

Summary: Things have changed since the rebellion after the 75th Hunger Games. The games have ended, but has life in Panem really changed all that much? Missing his best friend, Gale Hawthorne is still trying to make ends meet for his family when he agrees to pretend to be the boyfriend of the mayor's daughter, Madge Undersee, for one evening.

Daisy (G, Mr. Mellark/Mrs. Mellark)

Summary: “You know,” he said, pulling at some of the plants beside him “I’ve heard before that Margret has a nickname.”

Timothy Mellark gives his girlfriend a new nickname.

We Seal the Pages (G, Everlark, Katniss Everdeen & Peeta Mellark's children, Mr. and Mrs. Everdeen, Delly Cartwright)

Summary: a place for me to put all my little drabbles, a lot of them from prompts

[strategicundersee]

NOTHING ELSE MATTERS - a gadge drabble.

Nobody asked for this one, but i felt like i had to write something cute for them, in honor of valentine's day. hope you enjoy it!

summary: her father would never let her go out with a boy like gale hawthorne, not in this lifetime. so she did it in the dark, when he was already asleep and the streets were mostly empty. some would crucify her, but they never understood. gale made her happy in a way no one else ever could.

word count: 710

Her heels almost made her trip in the middle of the street - or was it her lack of attention? - but Gale was there to catch her.

Madge doesn't remember whose idea it was to dance, but they've been doing it since they left the Merchant Quarters. His arms were the warmest she'd ever been in, and he all but minded her soft humming.

It wasn't an actual song, just a random melody she played on her piano the morning before, something she invented when she thought of him.

Okay, maybe the dance had been her idea, after all.

- Don't you even think about taking those off. - He arched his eyebrows, his breath like a sweet whisper in her ear - The streets here have all kinds of shit in them, even glass. You're gonna hurt yourself.

- They're hurting me more. - She argued - Please? We're not far from your house!

- No shoes, no dancing. You should've thought about that before putting these on, Undersee.

She didn't choose them, and he knows. Her father did, for some stupid diplomatic duty she had to show up in. Why couldn't he leave her out of all those capitolite visits for good?

She loved to study about them, to hear him complaining about the districts problems and come up with a solution for them in her head, but what did it matter if she couldn't say a word out loud?

What did anything matter if she had to keep her relationship a secret from loved ones, for Gale's sake? Her father would never accept it.

- Okay, then we stop dancing. And you guide me to safety, soldier Hawthorne.

- Deal.

Then, and only then did he release her, his joyous laugh filling her ears. And the second her heels were off instead of pulling her closer like she thought Gale would, he picked her up.

- What the hell are you doing? - She giggled

- Guiding you to safety, just like you asked me to. - He smirked - You better hold those shoes really tight though, because it's gonna be a bit complicated for us to come back to get them if they fall.

- Deal.

She was right, they weren't far from the Hawthorne's. That dancing was probably what was slowing them down, because once it stopped, they got there in a matter of minutes.

Gale stopped in front of the door to put her down and get his keys, but picked her up again when they were in the living room kissing her on the lips right before.

- We're inside, you know - Madge smiled - You don't need to do that anymore, I'm not gonna step on anything.

- Do you want me to stop? - He asked, staring at her so tenderly that it seemed like she created the whole universe - Honestly? Cause the kids are probably still awake, and i don't wanna share you with anybody else.

Madge didn't even have time to say no, cause Gale's statement proved itself to be true: Posy Hawthorne was standing in the hallway, her curious little eyes widely open, as she didn't believe what she was seeing.

- Madgey! - She screamed excitedly, running towards the couch - You're back!

- Hey, little princess. - Madge opened her arms, for Posy to go into her embrace - How was your day today?

- Rory dropped Agape on the floor. He said he was sorry, but her hair is all dusty now. And Gale was taking too long to come back!

- Oh, that doesn't look like the greatest of days. - She sighed, petting the little girl's hair. She'd never tell a soul, but out of all Hawthorne siblings, Posy was probably her favorite - But Gale's here now, and we can brush Agape's hair together if you like.

- Really?

- Of course, darling. Why don't you go get her and the hairbrush?

- Okay! - And just like that, she ran to her room to get the doll, stopping midway to scream - I'm still mad at you for taking too long, G!

- You're not gonna say that once I'm hugging you when you come back! - He screamed back.

There, Madge thought, in that house filled with excited screams and loud jokes, in Gale's arms while he kissed her... Nothing else mattered. Not her dad, not the capitol, not the entire district.

She never felt happier.

[hawthornewhisperer]

Gadge - wedding reject table

Madge found Table Twelve and grimaced internally.  Cool, thanks Delly, she thought.  I’m at the weird cousin table.  They weren’t actually cousins— just the sort of awkward childhood friends who had grown up together but weren’t best friends.  Close enough to warrant an invite to the wedding but not close enough to be in the wedding.  To be fair, Delly had invited her with a plus one, but Katniss was busy and Madge wasn’t seeing anyone, and honestly, a blind date at a wedding was worse than being alone.

She sat down and pulled out her phone so she could at least pretend to be texting and someone sank into the chair next to her.  She stole a glance at him, and then another.  Abruptly, her opinion on the weird cousin table changed because the newcomer, well...he was hot.  She clicked off her phone and smiled sweetly at him.  “I’m Madge,” she said, and pretended not to notice that he checked her out.

“Gale,” he said.  “I work with Delly, but apparently we’re not good enough friends to warrant not being at the Rejects table.”  His eyes widened comically.  “Not that you’re— shit, that was not the best first impression, was it?”

“Not your best, no.  And Reject’s table?  I call it the Weird Cousin table,” she grinned.

“Weird Cousin works too,” he said, his grey eyes twinkling, and Madge decided maybe Delly knew what she was doing after all.  

[panemdirectory]

Author:  Medea Smyke

Pairing: Gadge

Rating: Teen

Summary: We know Gale got the Everdeens out. We don't know how or who else. When the Quarter Quell came to it's shattering conclusion, a whole new game of survival begins with a desperate escape from the Mayor's home. An expansion of my drabble "And So We Run." AU

[d3ndroica]

Trail ride

“Can I ride that one?” Posy asked. “Pleeease?”

Gale looked over the row of horses, each tied to a separate post along the fence. “Which one? The white one?” They'd driven past the main gate on their way into town. Donner Ranch Scenic Trail Rides, it had said. It was the one thing Posy said she wanted to do.

“She's gray, Gale,” Posy informed him. “They don't say white.”

“What? Why not?” he retorted.

Posy just shrugged.

“That's ridiculous. It's white,” Gale asserted. Though of course, Posy would know far more about the secrets of the horse world than he, considering she'd been picking out library books about horses for at least the last year.

“She's gray,” called a voice behind them with a laugh. Gale turned and saw a woman walking toward them. She wore a plaid shirt cinched at her waist, tight-fitting jeans and cowboy boots, and she was followed closely by a brown horse. “Howdy,” she held her hand out to him in greeting. “I'm Madge Undersee, welcome to the Ranch.”

Gale shook her hand, mildly surprised by the firmness of her grip. “Hi,” he said, looking into her blue eyes and suddenly feeling tongue tied.

She gave him a teasing smile. “Your young lady's right. If a horse looks white, it's gray. Centuries of horse breeding means we actually understand a bit about how their colors are inherited, and true white is extremely rare, most are really gray. They don't even start out gray.” Turning to Posy she continued, “Take your girl Dancer there. She was chestnut at birth, born right there in that barn. They turn gray as foals, and get whiter and whiter with age. That gal's thirteen years old now,” she said with a fond smile. “Anyways, that's why they call 'em gray not white.” She brushed a loose lock of hair back behind her ear toward the braid at the base of her neck.

“Dancer? I think she's pretty. I want to ride her,” said Posy.

Madge answered “Well li'l miss, you hafta meet her first, don't'cha think? What's your name?”

“I'm Posy.”

“Well, miss Posy, let's go over and say hello. We'll see how you and Dancer get along.” Madge drawled, sending a quick wink toward Gale. She led Posy over to the horses, showing her how to walk safely around them and helping her pet Dancer's nose. She explained how the dark skin on Dancer's nose was one way to know she was a gray horse, since white horses' skin appeared pink.  As Posy got acquainted with the mare, Madge wandered back toward Gale.

“What about you, cowboy? You ready for a ride?”

[whiskeykneat]

50+ Followers Celebration!

I'm going to do a small giveaway to celebrate!

all you have to do is reblog or comment with who you'd like a headcanon or smutty drabble about. I will write for: Gendrya, SanSan, Love Island the Game, Norribeth, Gadge, Brieme, Podsa, or Galeniss. I will choose 3 winners by randomizer next week!

Thank you for following me!! 😘

[porchwood]

A series of modern AU oneshots/drabbles, each depicting a typical morning in the life of a certain character or pairing and inspired, of course, by the old Folgers tagline, so coffee should make an appearance somewhere in each installment. Smut, fluff, angst, and humor may all apply. Minimally edited, so may be tweaked in the future.

So...life is extremely difficult still always right now. My doggie’s heart failure is a constant fear (not to mention a big expense :/), and I’ve been trying to find something to do in the quiet times (because she sleeps almost constantly now and it’s difficult not to just sit there and watch her breathe) so I can be with her but keep myself somewhat distracted with pleasant things.

I’ve had this silly fic idea for years and decided to give it a try, and wonder of wonders, here are three (minimally edited :/) bits of prose that resulted. Or if you’d prefer: 

Luka (Middle Mellark)/Johanna

Raisa (Mrs. Mellark), with plenty of Jack nods

Gale/Madge (with a bonus pairing...)

I anticipate more installments to follow but as always, no idea if that will actually happen.