#has boarding school!everlark been done??

[thesunpersists]

🐑 Tags: #academic rivals #enemies to lovers #Peeta Mellark needs a hug

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Title: Gonna Make It Through This Year (If It Kills Me) Pairing: Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark Tags: Alternate Universe-High School, Boarding school, Academic rivals, Enemies to lovers, Peeta Mellark needs a hug Summary: Junior year didn't start well for Peeta Mellark. He is already behind in his schoolwork, his new wrestling coach is busting his balls, and his number one rival Katniss Everdeen is being even more of a pain in the ass.

Oh, and as if all this isn't enough, he is now roommates with Gale Hawthorne.

Why can't he get a break?

[everlarkficexchange]

The Change

Written by: @alliswell21

Prompt 59: Growing up Peeta started loving her. It was a gradual thing that happened throughout his childhood and into his teens. But something changes when he hits puberty. Her scent has heightened, he can spot her from miles away. He gets a bit possessive. But the biggest thing is when his body starts to heat up and even just the thought of you gets him hard for days. He finds out the family secret of his werewolf genes, something his parents thought passed him. How can he go by with his day and be with her without scaring her away by humping her because of his heat. [submitted by @animekpopxx]

  Rated M: for language and “adult-y” situations.

  Tags: Underage. No-Games AU. In Panem AU. Tags/Warnings will be added accordingly. Un-beta. All mistakes are mine. 

  Author’s Note: I really tried to write this as a one shot, but since the quarantine brought my husband and kids to work/do schooling from home, I’ve been busier than ever… and I really wanted to have something to post before the exchange was over. So here’s the first part of this story, around 2500 words.

  As always, thank you to the moderators of the Exchange, you ladies are terrific as usual. Thank you to @animekpopxx for her awesome prompts, I swear your prompts are my catnip and kryptonite rolled into one. 

Heads Up, there’s no verbal interaction between Everlark in this chapter.

Stay safe, everyone. Enjoy! 

Chapter One:

  Is ten fifteen in the morning when I start feeling feverish and thirsty. We’re in the middle of a social studies test, and I can’t keep from squirming in my chair, shaking the whole desk everytime I try to hold on to it for stability. 

  I catch the teacher’s eye and wince when she screeches in her affected accent for me to stop twitching. 

  I try to tell her I can’t help it, but before I get one word out she’s flying upon me from her own desk at the very front of the class. 

  “Mr. Mellark, you have exactly 5 seconds to—“ she gasps when her cold hand grasps my shoulder like a crow’s claw. “You’re burning up, Mellark!” She sounds concerned for a Capitolite, but by the way she extracts her bony hand from me, I have to think I must be burning through my thin cotton shirt. “Why did you even come to school if you were so sick, boy?” She snaps eyeing me suspiciously.

  Against my better judgement, I roll my eyes. “We have a test, Ms. Greer.”

  “A note from your father would’ve suffice.” She snips.

  “I didn’t feel sick this morning.” I explain, embarrassed when my voice cracks lamely and the other kids try to hide their quiet chuckles, so the teacher doesn’t turn on them. The boys in my year have already grown into their adult voices, and some of them even have facial hair. Not me. I still sound and look like a baby. “I don’t feel sick right now.” I almost whine, which actually disproves my statement, because I’ve never whined about anything; whining it’s a sure way to get on my mother’s bad side, so is the first thing we Mellark’s learn to suppress and avoid at all costs. 

  Ms. Greer huffs impatiently, “Well, you have a terribly high fever, and you’re starting to sweat all over the place, Mr. Mellark. I’m going to have to ask you to go home until you are well again. The last thing this district needs is some epidemic tearing everything apart.” She sniffs out the last phrase, probably more concerned about missing her fat paychecks every week she stands here feeding us Capitol propaganda that’s supposed to pass as schooling, than actually worried about the district’s well being. 

  I try to protest about the missing the test, but this time Ms. Greer rolls her eyes and waves me off, saying that I can make it up with a two page report on coal production and its impact in District 12’s economy… as if she herself doesn’t know that our local industry is a joke, District 12 is still the poorest district in Panem, even after the Reformation a few years back, when the Capitol dissolved the Hunger Games and promised to open fair Inter District negotiations. It never happened, at least not with us, yet the whole country uses our coal. 

  Ms. Greer’s glaring at me though, so I pack up and start shuffling out of the classroom, only stopping to grab a note she hands me to bring to the front office. 

  As I footslog to the door, strange things happen that startle the shit out of me: first, a rush of smells like pine needles, sun and wildflowers invade my nose leaving me disoriented and frenzied; is a combination like nothing I’ve smelled before, but somehow, instinctively my eyes lock with the gray orbs of Katniss Everdeen, who somehow I know in my bones is the owner of the aromas filling my nostrils— I already knew she was sitting there of course, I deliberately chose my seat so I could steal glances at her long, dark braid, during class, but… I’ve never stared at her so boldly and openly, and for a moment I think she is staring at me with some interest… concern, maybe? It’s gone as soon as her gorgeous eyes fly away. That’s when the third thing happens. I growl deep and low at her dismissal, a possessive and animalistic sound that rumbles in my chest, making the rest of our classmates stare at me… great! As if the other kids need any more reasons to giggle and whisper behind my back.

  I’m the shortest boy in my class; I still have what can be considered as baby fat in this District, holding on to my thick frame, and while my older brothers are wrestling champions, I’m too heavy and uncoordinated to wrestle myself. Is not that I’m at any risk of being bullied or anything, I learned to be witty and funny a long time ago as a self preservation mechanism, and everyone likes me well enough, but I still don’t want to give anyone any munition to use against me.

  Yet, I can barely control the noise rumbling in the back of my throat, an worst of all, I’m fighting this unbearable urge to stomp to Katniss’ desk and plant myself there until she turns her eyes back to mine and acknowledges me. 

  She scowls at her notebook and rubs her nose with her knuckle. There’s a spike of some strange smell— reminds me of discomfort, I think— mingling in with her original scent, and that’s what finally makes me snap to reality, and force my legs to trudge to the office to get me an official excuse for missing school for the next few days.

  I’m loathe to admit it, but I’m itching so badly all over my body, I’m glad Ms. Greer kicked me out of class for having a fever. I don’t feel sick, but the itching is just killing me, and I want out of my clothes now… maybe a layer or two of my skin as well, but that just sounds kinda gross. 

  To my surprise, when I arrive home, Mother’s hands stay put at her sides instead of flying up to scoff the side of my head for skipping school, as if I where stupid enough to come home if I was skipping for real. She looks at me oddly though, almost like she’s sad or disappointed I came down with this fever. 

  Father on the other hand, looks mildly alarmed for a moment, but after feeling my forehead, he cups my face and pulls the skin under my eyes downwards with the pad of his thumbs, tilting my head around like he’s checking their health. Then his thumbs let go of my cheekbones and hike up the skin over my upper lip, bearing my teeth to him. He tilts my head again studying my mouth like I’m some prized pony he’s hoping to buy. His thumbs slide the length of my canines and then prods the tip for sharpness. An uncharacteristic blank expression takes his face, then he nods seemingly done with his examination or whatever he was doing; he lets go of my face and asks in his usual, quiet voice, “Are you hungry?” 

  My stomach growls in response. I’m surprised at the sudden feeling of voracious appetite unfurling in my belly. “Yeah.” I mutter, watching him pin the school note to the board by the bakery door with all the operational permits, just in case someone comes asking about me missing school. The Hunger Games might be abolished, but school attendance is still compulsory and any unauthorized absences are punishable by hefty fines, no one can afford to pay.

  Father points at the dining table with a thick finger, and I sit down heavily in my usual chair. I’m very surprised when out of nowhere, my mother plops a plate heaped high with food— mostly fresh stuff too— but I ignore the serving of vegetables and the freshly baked roll, in favor of the few meats lining the plate. I know Mother keeps certain meats she can reheat and repurposed in other meals, so it’s disconcerting seeing this abundance in front of me.

  I only pause to look up at my parents standing side by side near the wall, watching me eat with some strange interest.

  “Eat, Peeta, before the food gets too cold,” My mother orders without her usual verb when they notice I’m staring back.

  I dig in unceremoniously, inhaling first a piece of goat meat, then a pigeon leg, and lastly a bite of fried squirrel that somehow makes me growl as soon as my teeth sink into the morsel. There’s an overwhelming taste of pine needles and flowery woods mixed in with the savory flavor of the squirrel; my mind is suddenly full of images of a long, dark braid swishing against a brown leather jacket. 

  “More squirrel!” I demand in a grunt. 

  My father���s eyebrows arch for a second, and again my mother is the one to bring a piece of meat, no bigger than the pigeon leg I just ate, and tosses it on my empty plate. 

  I throw myself at it like a savage beast.

  “After you’re done eating, you can go lay down.” Says my mother flatly. 

  Well, now I’m worried! 

  My eyes snap at my parents, anxiously. “Why?” I ask cowed. 

  The last time my mother encouraged any of us to rest during a work day was… never. They did send my middle brother to stay with our aunt once; he had chicken-pox. My brother got to stay in bed for as long as he wanted, until he wasn’t contagious anymore and Mother dragged him back home. 

  My father sighs, “So you can sleep off your fever, son. You can’t handle dough while you’re sick. We could get fined for a safety code violation. If the peacekeepers think you’re working while sick, we could get in a lot of trouble.” 

  “Oh… okay.” I’m relieved. But I still have to ask, “And you’re both alright with that?” 

  My mother snorts. “Eat up, Peeta. Then go to bed. We’ll see how you do in the morning.” She crosses her arms over her chest and shakes her head, dislodging a few blonde hairs from the tight bun at her nape. She leaves the room muttering to herself something about not being ready for any of this shit, leaving my father to stare at me alone. 

  We just stay there, mutely watching each other for a second. 

  “You like the squirrel meat best?” He asks, awkwardly pointing at the piece of food still clutched in my fingers. 

  “Yeah. I mean, everything is tasty, but this stuff is just great.” I take a big bite out of my piece to illustrate, and as soon as the flavors invade my mouth, I shudder involuntarily, even body parts that usually lay dormant during meals stir at the thought of the huntress this particular animal came from. 

  My father makes a noise at the back of his throat, then he asks, “How are you feeling? Any weariness? Tiredness? Lethargy?” 

  I shake my head, “Nah. I actually feel great. I feel like I should be outside chopping wood, or running laps for wrestling practice.” It’s true too, even the itchiness driving me insane earlier, is gone. 

  Father’s eyebrows arch, “Wrestling, huh?” 

  I shrug and go back to finish up my lunch. It’s the first time I’ve actually voiced my interest in the sport, but I don’t know why it should come as a shock? After all, everyone in town knows Mellark’s are somewhat legacy wrestlers. 

  “Well, we can figure it out if you still feel so energetic after your nap.” Father says before making his way back to the bakery, leaving me to my own devices. 

  I finish up my meal, returning to the icebox the vegetables and bread I didn’t eat, then wash my plate and put it away. Sick or not, Mother would throw a fit if there is a dirty dish in the sink when she comes back to the apartment. 

  I lay down, not expecting to find sleep since I’m so wired up. I’m tempted to fetch my sketchbook— really, it’s just a bunch of scrap paper I’ve put together in an ancient folder I keep under my mattress— and draw for beat, but I’m a 16 year old boy… lay in bed, idly. My mind wanders back to the stupefying smell I’m convinced belongs to Katniss Everdeen, and as usual, thoughts of her lead to stirrings in my nether regions, only this time my body heat increases to furnace temperatures, my mouth goes dry as a bone, my skin itches like crazy and I’m trembling with aching want like never before. 

  I don’t understand what the hell is wrong with me, but I only start to panic when my dick starts swelling in my trousers, and it keeps growing and growing and growing, until the crotch of my pants feels like it’s shrunk three sizes on my body. I tear at the buttons until the fly is open and hastily try pulling myself out of my boxers, but goddamned near impossible to do, and I desperately shove at bottoms freeing myself after squeezing and twisting like a maniac. 

  I’m a little disturbed at how purple and swollen my dick looks. There’s some kind of protuberance bulging at the base of my cock. I’ve never noticed it before, and I’m freaking out it may be some nerve end or some of those tiny veins that pop when pressured… I silently beg the universe my I didn’t break my dick while pawing at it to pull it out. I’m still pulsing with want, and my brain is screaming to go back to remembering the aroma of pine needles and freedom that’s Katniss… but at the same time, I can’t unsee the strange meaty ring at the base of my dong. 

  I bring my fingers to it apprehensively. I’m curious, so I poke it and hiss at the zap of pleasure I felt as soon as my fingertips grazed the turgid skin. 

  I chance another touch, just to see if I can recreate the sensation, and moan pitifully at the feeling. The head of my cock bobs dripping precome. I close my eyes and wrap my hand around myself, so I don’t have to look at how angry red my penis is. Images of Katniss come unbidden into my mind’s eyes, and before I know it, I’m pumping my fists and groaning like a wounded animal, lost in sensation. 

  I can’t keep a rhythm to save my life, but as soon as the heel of my hand makes contact with the strange, swollen ring around my cock, my body jerks violently; I double over at the waist, gasping, “Katniss!” Just as cum starts pouring out of me like a fucking fountain.

  I saw a kid in school convulsing once, it scared the shit out of me then, and the way I’m twitching and spamming in bed right now, vaguely reminds me of it. I wonder if this is what it would feel like to convulse? 

  My cock is still spewing ribbons of semen in every direction, but my erection keeps hardening and swelling; I try pinching the head of my penis to staunch the flow of cum to no avail and I’m getting anxious and scared enough, I consider calling my father for help, but the mess in my bed is embarrassing, and I can’t stop eyaculating. Suddenly, out of nowhere my mind is conjuring up memories of that sweet smell of Katniss’. 

  The phantom smell of pine and flowers tickles the roof of my mouth and start panting into my pillow. I’m lightheaded and out of breath, copious sweat covers my entire body and an overwhelming need to squeeze the base of my cock takes over my body. My hand wraps around the weird protruberance above my pelvic bone and I fucking howl on contact. 

  My vision goes dark, and I only have one more thought before passing out: “I have got to hide this filthy mess from Mother.” 

  To be continued…

[everlark-your-own-adventure]

Powder Keg - Ch 2

Happy Monday, everlarkers! Last week introduced us to ski!instructors Katniss and Peeta, and all of the gang at Mt. Mockingjay Lodge. When we last looked in, our cinnamon bun was offering Katniss some of the cash he earned when he stole away her private lesson. You voted to have her refuse the offer (understandably so, I think!) So what’s in store for our gang this week? Let’s see, shall we? This week’s installment of Powder Keg was written by @xerxia31.

As always, you have 48 hours to vote, until noon, Wednesday, November the 15th. Remember, vote in the comments or reblogs, not in the tags! And as always, share with your friends, more voices = more fun! Ready? Here we go...

The wad of cash in Peeta’s hand is so tempting. I have no doubt that Glimmer is a good tipper, probably even more so with Peeta than she would have been with me. And I really need that money.

As if he can sense my indecision, a hint of a smile lifts the corners of his lips, lights his eyes. For the briefest of moments, it’s as if I’m looking back through time, to that golden-haired boy with the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. The one who stole my heart.

The one who tore it to shreds.

Anger wells up inside me, stamping out the flicker of pain and humiliation that remembering that day has allowed to surface. Obscenities sit on the tip of my tongue, begging to be unleashed at him. “No,” I say instead, adding a tight “thank you,” when I catch Wiress frowning at me from her fry station. Peeta’s expression hardens.

“Take the damn money, Everdeen,” he hisses. “You earned it. I’m trying to do the right thing here.”

“Yeah, well you always were the superior one, weren’t you?” Peeta recoils, as if I’ve actually shoved him instead of just envisioning it.

A group of rowdy thirteen- and fourteen-year-olds bursts through the cafeteria door, all laughter and good-natured hijinks. Morning ski school must be over. A perfect distraction from the hurt on Peeta’s face. I head back behind the counter, ready to start dishing out meals to the skiers, and when I finally look up, Peeta is gone.

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The sun is still a solid forty minutes away from cresting the mountain when I pull my Jeep into the parking lot. Most of the instructors at Mt. Mockingjay stay in the staff dormitories, but I'm a local, having lived all of my life in Panem, just ten minutes down the mountain. No point in paying for lodging here when my childhood home is so close, though I've heard there are some crazy parties in the dorms after hours.

Stepping into my bindings in the blue-grey predawn is like coming home. My father had me on skis when I was barely old enough to walk. His seasonal job at this very resort opened the world of carving and shredding to our family, who otherwise could never have afforded it. My skis and boots were always bought at the end of the season, former rentals too dinged up to appeal to the tourists anymore, my lift passes purchased at the employee rate. But on the runs, I was never that poor kid from the Seam. My dad used to say Mt. Mockingjay was the great equalizer. This was his favourite place in the world, and it’s mine too.

Just enough snow fell overnight to frost the hills in a perfect layer of powder and I’m anxious to get up there and be the first to slice through it. I slide my key into the chairlift controls and fire up the engine. This is the smallest of the resort’s five chairlifts. I’d rather use the main lift, the one that services the two double diamond runs, but it’s a stupid idea to ride that behemoth alone. Instead, I make the four minute and thirty-seven second ascent to stand at the top of the single diamond Arena run.

My breath catches in my throat; from up here the mountain is a smooth blue-white canvas, faintly glittering in the slope lights, begging to be brushed by my skis. Though my first instinct is to race down as fast as I can, kicking up a spray of diamond-bright sparkles as I plow through the fresh snow, I instead carve through the powder, executing one flawless turn after another, concentrating on my technique, my father’s voice in my ears directing each perfect arc.

And when I reach the bottom, exhilaration and adrenaline spiking in my veins, I turn back to check out the pattern I’ve sculpted into the hill. Disappointment floods my veins as I realize that someone else is up there already, disrupting my curves. But as I watch, it quickly becomes apparent that the other skier is taking pains to mirror my line, almost exactly. Their turns are not as precise, but there’s a casual elegance in the careful line they’ve chosen. As they descend, a double helix emerges from the tracks in a way that has to be intentional, even artistic. I’m just reaching into my jacket for my phone, to take a picture of how cool it looks, when I notice that the other skier is wearing an orange helmet.

“Fuck,” I mutter, the word hanging in a silver cloud before slowly dissipating. There’s only one person in this place who’d be caught dead in safety-cone-orange headgear. I can’t escape that asshole for even one stupid morning.

Peeta Mellark has done everything in his power to make my first week here miserable. When he’s not actively stealing my clients right off the hill, he’s sabotaging my schedule. Just yesterday, he cheated me out of what would have been a high-tipping private lesson. I’m certain it was my name written beside Seneca Crane on the big board, but he swapped his own name in and took off with the older guy in his Armani snowsuit before I even noticed, leaving me instead with some punk kid named Marvel who was much more interested in his helmet cam than in learning.

And when I pointed that out to Jo, she just shrugged and said that the base rate was the same whether the lesson was with Mister Snowsuit-worth-more-than-my-car, or the disinterested brat. Which it is, but while Marvel’s dad only tipped twenty bucks, I’m certain Peeta got more than that from the guy he snatched away from me.

The entire week has been him dicking me around, then acting huffy when I call him on it. A whole week of us trading barbs. I swear I’m going to snap soon.

I scowl, watching Peeta traverse the rest of the run. He’s on skis today, I’d almost forgotten that he used to ski, before he switched to boarding with all of the other cool kids in his clique.  I know the moment he catches sight of me watching him, because he stiffens and nearly loses an edge, flailing just a bit. But he recovers quickly, barrelling towards me, spraying me in snow as he stops just feet away. Jerk.

He pulls off his helmet just as the thin winter sun finally crests the mountain top, crowning him in golden light, like he’s in some kind of damned shampoo commercial, then he flashes that arrogant smirk at me, the one that gets him all of the prime lesson slots while the rest of us peck at the dregs. “Good morning, Katniss,” he says, insincerity practically dripping from the words.

“What are you doing here?” I grumble. He gestures at his skis and raises an eyebrow.

“Same as you, it appears,” he laughs. I roll my eyes. “You want to share a chair back up?”

“No thanks, I’m done here,” I say, and ski away. I really wanted to get in a few fast, carefree runs before the day’s duties begin, but I’m not sharing a chair with him. And if I got on before or after, I have no doubt he’d stop the lift and leave me stranded, just for the pleasure of screwing me over yet again.

I can hear him calling after me, but I don’t turn back. “Dammit Katniss, wait,” he puffs as I shove the tip of my pole into my bindings with more force than is really necessary to release them. He’s chased after me, for some reason. I stack my skis in the rack beside the lodge entrance and yank the door open roughly. “The hill is big enough for both of us.”

“Forget it,” I bark, noticing too late that we’re no longer alone. A few early bird guests are already sitting by the big stone fireplace.

“Katniss!” He’s still following me, clattering awkwardly through the lodge even as he greets the guests sitting there by name. I roll my eyes. Suck up. I weave down the corridor that connects the main guest lounge with the staff area, Peeta huffing behind me.

He manages to catch up when I struggle for a moment to punch in the door code. “Why are you so stubborn?” he practically bellows as I finally push open the door. Several heads whip around to gawk at us, other instructors and staff members getting ready for their days. My ears burn, but I still don’t acknowledge him, stomping instead over to the huge whiteboard that outlines the day’s lessons.

Every square next to my name has been wiped clean. “What the hell, Peeta?” I whip around to face him, hands on my hips and fire in my eyes. “This the reason you got here early? Just to screw me out of a day’s pay?” My voice cracks pathetically on the last word. I really need a full roster of lessons if I’m going to earn enough for Prim to have a Christmas this year, not to mention keeping the lights on at my mother’s house.

“I had nothing to do with this,” he snaps, almost distractedly, as he walks over to the board. It’s only then that I realize the normally overflowing boxes next to his name are also blank. “What the--?”

“Oh good, you’re both here and still alive.” It’s far too early for Johanna’s acerbic tone. Peeta and I turn in tandem to glare at her, talking over each other in an attempt to accuse each other in the latest round of schedule manipulation. “Can it, both of you,” she barks.

“Jo, I can’t afford to spend another day in the snack bar,” I hiss, not wanting Peeta to hear how desperate I am for the higher pay that comes with teaching.

“You’re not in the snack bar today,” she says. “We have a school trip coming in. You’re leading it.” I feel a little better, there are no tips for teaching school groups, but I’ll at least get the full instructor wage for my time, instead of minimum. But then Jo looks over my shoulder. “Both of you.”

“No,” Peeta says before I can even spit the word out myself. “No, Jo, not today. I had five private lessons lined up today!”

“And now you don’t,” she smirks. “I gave them to Bristel.” A fiery flush sweeps up Peeta’s neck and his jaw clenches. It’s kind of fascinating. “You two are going to take the field trip kids, and you’re going to get over whatever this crap is between you.” I’m two seconds away from stomping off. I definitely didn’t sign up for this. As if she can hear my thoughts, Jo glares at me. “I have fielded seven complaints about the two of you already.” She waves her finger between us. “Seven! It’s only been a week!”

“None of that is my fault!” I try to defend myself, but Johanna cuts me off.

“Brainless, I’ve cut you a ton of slack because you’re by far the best skier here. But you’re at the end of the rope. You need to figure this out.” My heart sinks; I’ve never been fired from a job before, not once. And to be let go from Mt. Mockingjay… well I’d never be able to ski here again, never be able to look any of these people in the eye again. Suitably chastened, I stare down at my ski boots.

“And you,” Jo says, turning her attention to Peeta. “You think you’re safe just because the snow bunnies cream themselves when you unzip your parka?” I sneak a peek at Peeta, whose entire face is bright red now. “They’re not the ones managing this place. I am. And I haven’t forgotten that you still haven’t passed your level two certification.” My head snaps up at that, just as Peeta’s face falls. He isn’t even level two certified? He shouldn’t be teaching private lessons at all!

“Jo, I can’t work with him,” I plead. It’s true, we’ll kill each other. She tips her head back and lets out a mighty groan.

“You know what, Brainless, fine. Hawthorne’s scheduled to be off today. Call him in if you have to. You choose. Gale or Peeta.” She levels me with a glare. “Twenty-two fourth graders. Bus will be here at eight sharp. Make sure they’re all kitted and on the bunny hill by nine,” Jo says as she walks away. “The rest of you, get to work,” she calls to the group of other instructors, who scramble to appear as if they hadn’t been watching our entire dress-down.

I let out a deep breath as beside me Peeta does the same. I glance up at him. He doesn’t look pissed anymore. He almost looks… sad. Resigned. He turns his gaze to mine, expectantly, waiting to be dismissed. To lose an entire day’s pay.

What do I do? Bring Gale in on his morning off to teach with me, even though he’s likely to be pissed about it. Or see if Peeta and I can call a truce, if only just for the day?

[hollywoodx4]

These questions are gems @always-aaack-for-everlark

ALSO 48 IS UP SO IF YOU’RE NOT CAUGHT UP YET MY QUESTION IS WHY?

Favorite Article of clothing?

Skater skirts-she likes to wear them with button-down shirts or pretty blouses with big necklaces and they’re a staple in her closet because she can style them so many ways. Also, she is the proud owner (thief) of Alex’s big grey sweater with the one button (which is one of his favorite items of clothing, so he pretends to get mad about it when in reality seeing her in his clothes is the greatest thing)

He likes simple things; he has quite a few hoodies, but his favorite is one that Eliza got him as a ‘just because’ present from the Columbia bookstore one day. (as she does with clothes, and it’s honestly for her own benefit because she’s always right about what will look really good on him) It’s fleece lined. She got huge bonus points on that purchase. Also, he loves a knit grey sweater he has, but only because Eliza loves him in it, and does not ever forget to tell (or show) him.

Could they kill someone with their bare hands?

I fully support the idea that either of the two could kill someone with their bare hands. They’re both such passion-driven and caring people that crossing a particularly wrong path wouldn’t end well for the person.

Are they good at mental math?

Eliza is absolutely the worst at mental math. She’s really good at math as a school subject, but mental math freezes her up. Alex is the flipside of that-math isn’t really something he’s great at but mental math?? Quick thinking?? Sold. Even fractions. The tip at a restaurant? Done. It’s one of his weird talents.

Do they like to be told what to do?

Eliza’s alright with it. She was by far the most agreeable of the Schuyler children growing up; Angelica with her skill for argument and Peggy with…well, being the youngest and kind of a brat. So being shoved in the middle of those two shaped her into a pretty agreeable person. Alex on the other hand doesn’t care whether the person is one of authority or just a random guy off the street, he hates being told what to do. It makes him tense up, and feel immediately constricted. He’s confident in his own plan and his own way of doing things, and he wonders why the hell someone would want to mess with that.

Have they ever been in a situation where they lied and regretted it?

Eliza always gets caught up on the small things, so of course that’s a yes. We’ve talked about her catholic guilt before-how Catherine didn’t raise them on her religion but still instilled some of her…uh…traits on her daughters. Even little white lies Eliza will regret-telling Peggy a top looks cute when it doesn’t, saying she doesn’t have another stick of gum when she has a full pack she just bought (but doesn’t want to share with the maniacs in her English literature class). Alex’s regrets are bigger because he’s told bigger lies before-lies about who he is, or where he’s from…after he meets the rev squad, and after Eliza and finding his home within Columbia and his group of people, his biggest regret is the amount of times he’d lied about who he was before them. They teach him how to be truly proud of where he’s from, and to express it, regardless of who he’s speaking to or what they might think.

Are they protective of their friends?

Yes. There is no explanation needed.

What is their backstory?

Listen, go read the Schuyler Series and get educated. There’s too many chapters of backstory now to count. There’s layers. There’s a lot going on.

How do they express happiness, anger, and sadness?

Eliza’s an emotional whirlwind. She has no trouble speaking out when she’s feeling any emotion, but she also has a lot of tools that she uses to self-regulate them. Happiness is dancing through the kitchen, baking something sweet, doing a good deed for someone she may or may not know, and lots of love for Alex. Anger is quiet. Unless she is on the defensive and speaking for someone she loves, she’s more reserved with anger. She expresses her feelings on the issue, and she retreats. She lets the mood linger for a bit while she’s by herself, then she sketches or calls her sisters or Alex (depending on who/what she’s angry about) before she’s ready to come out and speak to someone about what’s happened. Sadness is a lot of tears.  It’s emotion that bubbles up with those giant droplets that hang in her eyes until Alex looks at her, and then she needs a lot of cuddling and quiet and she appreciates questions because they help guide her mind through the situation-and to her it means the person cares enough to need to know more.

Alex is definitely very reserved. His emotions are way harder to read; a lot of them are conveyed in silence. After living together for a while, Eliza knows that both sadness and anger end up with Alex needing some space, but that sadness takes him to the bedroom for a nap and anger to his office where he can pace and mutter and write down his feelings. Happiness, however, is lots of exuberant words thrown at Eliza all at once, and his need to hold her hand or hug her or keep her close but also a need to run around for a minute because happiness is a wonderful thing he never felt this often before.

Do they have motivation to become a better person?

Yes. Eliza’s is life; it’s this feeling of being given a chance to get through things, a chance to see her sisters and find joy in stupid everyday occurrences again. She finds it in her teaching-in being a role model for her students. Alex is very self-driven. He’s always wanted to reach higher, and do better, and a lot of that has to do with his wish to do his mother proud and to fulfill her wishes of success for him. They push each other to do their best, and to live their happiest lives.

How do they react to being told they’re wrong?

Eliza gets offended, and hurt, but she’s more able to shrug it off and talk to someone about it later if it’s still bothering her. Alex? Oh hell no. After the rebuttal (which lasts quite a long time, until the offender just has to walk away, and is backed by fact he pulls from what feels like thin air) he can not stop talking about it. He can’t. He has to have an at-length discussion (where Eliza or John are typically the sounding boards) about how stupid the offender was, and how his 100 various points are much more factual and make more sense in the context (which they typically do, but even if they don’t they never want to let Alex sink further into pointless research).

[everlarkbirthdaydrabbles]

My birthday is February 18. Could I have Smitty age gap please and thank you?

Happy, happy birthday @aaltena26! To help you celebrate in style, the always incredible @booksrockmyface has written this wonderful bit of Everlark, just for you. Enjoy!!

Dream Come True

Rated: Explicit

Trigger warning: Brief talk of a four wheeler (ATV) accident and a resulting injury ending in amputation of a limb.

Author’s note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I hope this is all you were hoping for and that your day is THE BEST! Much thanks to thesaltywinteradult for helping me get this story figured out when I got stuck on a transition.

________

Peeta remembered staying up late when he was eight years old to see Katniss Everdeen compete in the final archery round in Athens. She had been a frontrunner from the start, especially since she’d just barely missed out getting into the games four years before. She was his first crush.

When he was put in charge of showing the Olympian around campus as the Student Activities Board president, he was beside himself with excitement. He’d get to talk to her. Get her settled into her hotel. Introduce her to the group of students that would gather to see her archery demonstration.

“Calm down, Mellark. She’s just a person.” He told himself as he bounced around in the parking lot waiting for her arrival. “A really hot person you’ve had a crush on nearly all your like, but a person nonetheless.”

A compact car that looked like it had seen better days pulled in and Katniss Everdeen emerged. She was even more beautiful that Peeta could have ever imagined. Her long brown hair hung in waves over her shoulders. The sign, “Dangerous curves” came to mind as she stretched and looked around. She removed her sunglasses and sent a smile Peeta’s way, causing him to suddenly lose his normal ability to talk as her grey eyes landed on him.

“Are you Peeta?” She asked as she walked over, a blonde girl Peeta knew to be her younger sister in her wake.

“Yeah, that would be me.” He managed to stutter, holding out his hand. “Peeta Mellark. I have to say, Miss Everdeen, I am a huge fan. I watched the final round in Athens when you won the gold.”

Katniss laughed and blushed a little. “That was hard day. But the best day of my life.”

“I thought the day I graduated high school was the best day of your life.” The blonde girl teased.

Katniss laughed. “No, sorry, my gold beats your graduation and your wedding day combined.” She made introduction. “This is my sister Prim.” She pointed her thumb toward the car. “That’s Gale by the car. He’s my best friend. Also my brother-in-law.”

Peeta nodded. “Well, I can help you find your way around campus. Unless you’d like to get settled in your hotel.”

Katniss smiled. “Already got settled, actually. We got up pretty early this morning. Gale likes to drive, so Prim and I slept in the car.”

“Then, I would love to show you around our lovely campus.” Peeta led the way, jabbering away about the history of the school, all the while thinking about all the things he’d done while looking at Katniss’s pictures growing up. And all the things he was going to imagine long after she was gone.

Katniss didn’t seem entirely interested, but she at least asked questions every once in a while. She smiled and reached out to touch Peeta’s arm as they circled back to the start. “It’s a beautiful campus.

“Thanks.” He felt his heart pounding in his chest at her touch. “Can’t take too much credit, but I’m pretty proud of it.”

“As you should be.” She said kindly. “So what time do I need to be back here tomorrow?”

“Your demonstration starts at noon. You can come warm up any time before that. We’ll have a crew set up your targets and everything this evening. Someone will be on hand in the morning as early as ten.” He gave her his most dazzling smile. “But I can make sure you have my number in case you need someone before that.”

Katniss smoothly handed over her phone. “Thanks.”

Prim cleared her throat. Peeta noticed a look pass between the sisters, but nothing was said. He finished typing in his number and handed the phone back.

“Call if you need anything.” Peeta said.

“I will.” Katniss replied with a kind smile.

________

“Oh, wow, isn’t he cute?” Prim gushed as Gale pointed the car back toward the hotel.

Katniss snorted. “Please, Prim, he’s a baby.”

“What? Like twenty?” Prim said. “That’s not a baby.”

“Well, you’re married, so I don’t know what you’re going on about.” Katniss pointed out.

Gale chuckled. “Well, Catnip, you are very single and I think you should tap that. It would be good for you. Improve your mood.”

“Fuck you.” Katniss crossed her arms. “It would just be weird. I’m thirty-two and he’s barely out of high school.”

Prim leaned forward. “He’s cute and he’s smart and he’s totally into you. So what if he’s twenty? He gave you his number.” She squeezed Katniss’s arm gently. “And he did say to call if you needed anything. I say a toe-curling orgasm counts.”

Katniss covered her mouth as she laughed. “How do you know it would be toe-curling?”

“The way he looked at you, he’s probably been jerking off to your picture since he first figured out what masturbation was.” Gale said. “He at least knows a little bit.”

“Solo experience has nothing to do with how well someone will be in the sack.” Prim argued. “But you should try it anyway, Katniss. Maybe it’ll be a learning experience for him.”

“Yeah, he could put it on his resume.” Gale said with a suppressed laugh. “‘I fucked archery gold medalist Katniss Everdeen.’”

Katniss shook her head as she continued to laugh softly. “I can’t believe you two.”

Gale shrugged as he pulled into the hotel parking lot. “Might as well go for it. He nearly came in his pants just looking at you.”

This got all three of them going.

Prim said, “You’d know a thing or two about that, wouldn’t you, Gale?”

His ears turned pink. “Don’t know what you’re talking about, Prim.” He got out of the car and headed toward the front door.

Katniss and Prim followed, separating when they got to their floor. “Dinner in a half hour?” Prim asked.

“Sure.” Katniss stepped into the room and looked around. She sat down on the bed and looked around. Maybe Prim and Gale were right.

_________

Peeta groaned as Finnick beat him at yet another race. Which was unusual because he was pretty good at Mario Kart.

“You’re a little off your game today.” Finnick said.

“Just stressed.” Peeta dropped the controller on the coffee table and stretched. “Like I always am when we have campus visitors. I shouldn’t have run for president. This is a lot to take on.”

Finnick snorted. “Sure. Has nothing to do with it being Katniss Everdeen, your nightly wet dream.”

“Of course not.” Peeta said defensively as he snatched up his ringing phone. The number was one he didn’t recognize, but he answered anyway.

“Hi, it’s Katniss.” The voice that floated through the line was a little uncertain. “It’s Peeta, right?”

“Yeah, it’s Peeta.” His heart sped up and he hurried to his bedroom to get away from Finnick’s curious eavesdropping. “How can I help you?”

She seemed to hesitate a moment before she said, “You want to come hang out with me?” She laughed. “Would that be weird?”

“No, definitely not.” Peeta said quickly. “But are you sure you want to spend your time with some college kid?”

“I’m sure. My sister and brother-in-law are still in the honeymoon phase of their marriage and I always end up being the third wheel.”

Peeta chuckled. “I know that feeling.” He paused. “So you want me to come for real?”

She laughed. “Yes, I do.” She gave him the name of the hotel and her room number.

“Holy shit.” Peeta said, staring at the disconnected phone. “Holy shit.” He sat down on his bed and quickly pulled on his shoes. “Holy shit.” He pulled a few condoms out of their place in his top drawer and stuffed them in his pocket before he hurried out. “I’m going to hang out with Katniss Everdeen.” He said as he picked up his keys off the hook by the door. “Don’t wait up.”

Peeta drove like a madman to get to the hotel across town. He walked casually past the front desk clerk and up to the third floor.

Katniss opened the door just a moment after his knuckles made contact with the wood. She gave him a megawatt smile as she ushered him in. “I hope I didn’t pull you away from studying or something.”

Peeta shook his head and sat on the chair in the corner. “I was just playing Mario Kart with my roommate.”

“I used to play that.” She laughed. “When I wasn’t doing target practice.”

He sat down in a chair just inside the door. “So you really do practice all the time?”

She smiled and offered him a can of soda. “Not since I stopped competing so much.”

“So no Tokyo for you?” He asked.

She shook her head. “I’m moving on to coaching. Maybe I’ll get to go back in that capacity one day.” She opened her can of coke and took a sip. “So what’s your major?”

“Art with an emphasis on graphic design.” Peeta said proudly.

Katniss gave him a kind smile. “That’s a little lofty.”

“It is.” He said. “But my dad owns a bakery and I’ll go back to help him once school is done. I can still do art that way and not ever be broke or homeless.”

“Well, then, I suppose it’s smart.” She traced a grain on the table. “I never went to college. Too busy with hours and hours of training.”

He nodded. “I didn’t even want to go to college, but my mom insisted. I decided if I had to come, I was going to do it on my own terms. She wanted me to do a business degree, but I chose art instead to spite her. I plan on learning all my dad can show me, anyway.”

She bit her lip and placed her hand on top of his. “I’m sure your dad would be very happy to do that for you.”

“Yeah.” His voice caught in his throat at her touch. He blurted, “I have the biggest crush on you.”

She laughed and rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand. “I’m flattered.”

He laughed uncomfortably. “I told a kid in school when I was about twelve that you were a family friend and that I talked to you all the time. He didn’t believe me, of course, and asked my mom. I got in so much trouble for trying to start that rumor.”

Katniss laughed at that. “Where did you grow up?”

“Like an hour from your hometown. We really could have known each other.” Peeta took a sip from his soda and sat it down. “Do you have a boyfriend?” He felt himself blush and shook his head. “That’s a little forward of me, sorry. You don’t have to answer.”

“No boyfriend.” She said. “Never really had a lot of time for them.”

“Because of the practice?”

She nodded. “Plenty of flings and one night stands, though.” She gave him a steady look. “What about you?”

“I had a girlfriend in high school. Some flings of my own here in college. A few attempted one night stands, but they got weirded out when I took my pants off and made a quick exit.”

She gave him a questioning look.

“Not anything to do with my penis.” He said quickly. “They’re usually pretty impressed with that. It’s the fact that I don’t have leg.”

She glanced down.

He took the cue and pulled up his left pant leg. “Four wheeler accident when I was a kid. Too crushed to even consider any sort of reconstruction.”

“How far…?”

“Just above the knee.” He dropped his pant leg back down. “I’ve started trying to be up front about it when a girl doesn’t know me. So she can run before I get my hopes up.” He gave her a grin.

She smiled and placed her hand on top of his again. “Well, let me tell you, a prosthetic leg is nothing. You’re cute. And two legs or one, I don’t think I’d kick you out of bed for eating crackers.”

This has to be a dream, he thought to himself.

Lifting his hand up, she pressed her lips to his palm.

The breath caught in Peeta’s throat as his heart began to speed up. “You’re so beautiful.” He somehow managed to say.

Katniss smiled. “Would you like to go to bed with me?”

“Yeah, I’d like that very much.” He followed her across the room. “And I promise I won’t tell anyone about this.”

She shrugged. “I guess if you want to brag about it, you can.” She slipped her hands under his shirt, they were warm and eager.

“No, I don’t brag.” He smirked. “I’ve only slept with one girl that was decent and we learned all that together.” He brushed his fingers along her cheek. “You’ll probably want to forget all about this when all is said and done.”

She shrugged and pressed a kiss to his lips. A groan escaped him.

“I feel like this is a dream and I’m about to wake up.” He admitted.

She smiled and lifted his shirt over his head. “Well, this isn’t a dream. I promise.”

He grinned and whispered, “Prove it.”

A quick pinch to his nipple sent a ripple through Peeta’s body, causing him to let out a quick gasp. Katniss grinned and pulled him in for a deep kiss. One of her hands tangled in his hair as the other slipped between them to palm his growing erection.

He finally got the nerve to return her touches, slipping his hand up her shirt and sliding it over the smoothness over her lower back. The other hand grasped her bottom and pulled her closer.

Both of them were breathing heavily when she broke the kiss. “Take off my shirt.” She whispered.

He swallowed and quickly complied. She wasn’t wearing a bra. “Holy shit.” He breathed.

She smiled and pulled him in again, dropping kisses across his shoulder.

“Katniss.” He sighed.

She lifted her head and smiled. “You can touch me, you know.”

“I feel like you’re going to disappear as soon as I do.”

Her smile turned mischievous as she took his hands and placed them on her breasts. “Poof!” She exclaimed.

He laughed and then picked her up by her hips.

She squeaked and wrapped her arms around his neck as he took the last few steps to the bed. “Oh, wow, you’re strong.”

He smiled up at her. “I’m a wrestler.” He sat her down, his lips grazing against her skin as she slid to the floor. He slipped a hand behind her head and buried his fingers in her hair. In a hoarse whisper, he said, “I brought condoms.”

“Good. I begged one from Gale, but the more the merrier.” She bit her lip coyly. “Can I finish undressing you?”

Peeta smiled and nodded. “Yes.”

After a fleeting kiss, Katniss dropped to her knees and popped the button on Peeta’s jeans. She pressed a series of kisses across his stomach as she pulled his pants and underwear over his hips. Following the band with her mouth, she placed hot kisses down his leg until she was met with the top of his prosthetic. His heart started beating a different rhythm as she paused and sat back.

She looked up at him. “Does it hurt?”

He swallowed. “It’s like wearing shoes all day. Stuffy and annoying. Doesn’t really hurt unless I’ve been walking on it too much.”

She pressed his hips back until he sat on the mattress. She removed his shoes and the rest of his clothes. Running a hand up the length of both his legs she said, “Do you take it off or leave it on?”

“It’s really awkward to wear.” Peeta swallowed. “But if you would be more comfortable, I can leave it on.”

Katniss shook her head and stood. “You can take it off. I don’t mind.” She leaned over and pressed a kiss to his lips before moving to sit beside him on the bed, kissing his neck and shoulder.

Even though it was a muscle memory, he still fumbled with the removal of his leg while her hands and her mouth moved all over his skin. She was messing with all his senses. His cock twitched as her hand spread over his lower stomach.

“Condoms are in my pocket.” He gasped.

“In due time.” She said softly, wrapping her hand around his length.

Peeta lifted a hand and tangled it in Katniss’s hair once more as their mouths met in a crushing kiss that made his heart pound even harder in his chest. This was everything he’d ever dreamed of. All those nights staring at the pictures on his wall as he touched himself, wishing she could come out of those photos and take over.

And then she stopped and stood, dropping her pants to the floor before climbing into the bed and beckoning him with a single, crooked finger and a sly grin.

He dropped the leg and sock on the floor as he climbed up to hover over her. Their mouths met again and their hands roamed. Peeta slipped his hand between Katniss’s thighs and circled a finger slowly around her clit until she was gasping on the edge of orgasm. Then he pulled away, just as she had.

“Can I taste you?” He asked.

“That would be great.” She pushed on his shoulder.

He laughed and slowly trailed his mouth down her body. Pressing her legs apart, his mouth made contact with her hard and ready clit. She tasted glorious! And her response to him was nothing short of eager. She grasped his head and pressed herself into him. He took hold of her hips and doubled his efforts. She was panting and encouraging and just a short time later she was rocking against his mouth as she let out beautiful mewling cries.

When Katniss finally loosened her grip on his hair, Peeta moved up her body once more. He paused to swirl his tongue over her nipple as he palmed the other.

“That’s nice.” She breathed.

He smiled against her skin as he came to hover over her. “It was.”

She combed her fingers through his hair. “Condoms in your pocket, huh?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

After pulling him in for a long kiss, she moved from underneath him to find his pants among the piles on the floor. She came up with a triumphant sound and waved a square of plastic. She climbed back on the bed and sat beside Peeta. Her hands trailed over his skin admiringly. With a smile, she leaned down and pressed her lips over his skin. Then she slid her tongue up the length of his cock, taking the tip into her mouth for a moment and swirling her tongue around it.

“Holy shit.” He gasped.

She removed her mouth and grinned at him as she opened the condom. “Is that your favorite exclamation?”

“Yeah.” He panted. “I’m still sure I’m going to wake up any second.”

Katniss moved to sit on Peeta’s thighs as she rolled the condom on his length. “For at least this once, Peeta, I’m the real thing.” She grinned. “Wrinkles and all.”

He shook his head. “You’re perfect.”

She rolled her eyes. “You know, I’m already naked and almost on top of you, there’s no need for flattery.” She moved herself forward and lowered herself over him.

“But you are perfect.” He sighed as she surrounded him and he gripped her hips to keep her from moving. If she went too soon, he’d come in seconds. And if he was going to fuck Katniss Everdeen, he wanted it to last at least a minute.

She leaned over and braced her hands on the side of his head. “God, you feel good.”

He smiled up at her and bucked his hips. “So do you.”

Katniss set up a slow pace, twirling her hips as she went. It nearly drove Peeta to ruin. It took all his power to hold off. But it didn’t last long. He felt the tightening and she must have too because she sat back moved faster, stilling over him at the last moment. Everything was a little foggy for a few seconds as the orgasm took over.

She gently scratched his chest as he came back to himself, panting and heart beating wildly. “You good?”

He nodded, mumbling something that resembled a “yes.”

She leaned over and kissed him once more before removing herself from him. She stretched out on her back with a satisfied sigh.

“Holy shit.” He sighed.

She slipped her hand into his and brought it up to kiss his knuckles. “Holy shit, indeed.”

Peeta laughed. “That’s so much better than my dreams.”

“Honestly,” Katniss admitted, “that was better than I expected.”

He turned his head. “Glad I could be of service.”

“That came out wrong.” She rolled over and pressed her face into his neck. “I’m sorry.” She looked up. “How old are you, by the way?”

He grinned. “Twenty.”

She nodded. “Not too bad.” She rolled away once more. “I usually stick to guys my age. I don’t want you to think I’m on some sort of quest for younger men.”

He shrugged. “I don’t care. Tonight it’s me. And I mattered for these minutes. I may not matter to you a week from now.” He kissed the back of her hand. “But you capped off over a decade of longing with a great experience and I will never forget you.”

She grinned. “I’m glad I could be that for you.” She moved over him and kissed him softly. “You can stay as long as you like.”

“Thanks.” He pulled her close and kissed her deeply. He didn’t plan on leaving any time soon.