#haymitch you could have let katniss know that you're just pretending not to think

[diamondsunbursts-and-marblehalls]

The way Katniss is just stumbling through the Hunger Games like "I can keep Peeta alive through sheer willpower combined with how much everyone loves him cause he's the most wholesome and perfect person in the whole universe" and Peeta is out here making these elaborate plans; i.e., "she came here with me", "if it weren't for the baby", the locket with pictures of her mom and Prim, and GALE??? Wanting to make alliances.

Like, one of you is Haymitch's carbon copy and it shows.

[atelierlili]

Katniss, Peeta, and the messy in between.

For a while I've been seeing the sentiment of blaming the distance between Katniss and Peeta after the 74th games on Peeta entirely and I think it's rather unfair. It's a messy situation involving two teenagers who are both valid in their feelings at this point in time.

There's multiple things going on at the end of book 1 in regards to Peeta's relationship with both Katniss AND Haymitch that it feel unfair to blame him, when Peeta, like Katniss, more often than not, is the last one to find out other people's intentions/plans, even from his own allies.

Now before I start, I feel like I must preface this by saying I'm not bashing anyone in this analysis so if you're gonna say something rude and mean about my babies, make that U turn cause I aint having it. Also I'm a yapper so this is gonna be really long lol.

It begins on the train tracks. Katniss and Peeta are walking along the tracks when Peeta picks her a small bouquet of wildflowers as Katniss is struggling to convey the kind of danger they are in, while also being paranoid that they're being watched. At this time, she also connects Gale to the wild flowers Peeta has picked for her and its adding her anxiety to the point where she can't even pretend to be happy at Peeta's gift. And that's something he picks up on.

When the train makes a brief stop for fuel, we’re allowed to go outside for some fresh air. There’s no longer any need to guard us. Peeta and I walk down along the track, hand in hand, and I can’t find anything to say now that we’re alone. He stops to gather a bunch of wildflowers for me. When he presents them, I work hard to look pleased. Because he can’t know that the pink and-white flowers are the tops of wild onions and only remind me of the hours I’ve spent gathering them with Gale.

“What’s wrong?” Peeta asks. “Nothing,” I answer. We continue walking, past the end of the train, out where even I’m fairly sure there are no cameras hidden in the scrubby bushes along the track. Still no words come. -THG - Chapter 27

Its not until Haymitch appears and drop the bomb and bows out that Peeta finally catches on that Katniss and Haymitch are still playing up the lover act without his knowledge.

Haymitch startles me when he lays a hand on my back. Even now, in the middle of nowhere, he keeps his voice down. “Great job, you two. Just keep it up in the district until the cameras are gone. We should be okay.” I watch him head back to the train, avoiding Peeta’s eyes. “What’s he mean?” Peeta asks me. “It’s the Capitol. They didn’t like our stunt with the berries,” I blurt out. “What? What are you talking about?”

“So, what you’re saying is, these last few days and then I guess . . . back in the arena . . . that was just some strategy you two worked out.” “No. I mean, I couldn’t even talk to him in the arena, could I?” I stammer. “But you knew what he wanted you to do, didn’t you?” says Peeta. I bite my lip. “Katniss?” He drops my hand and I take a step, as if to catch my balance. “It was all for the Games,” Peeta says. “How you acted.”

-THG - Chapter 27

The truth comes out. Uh oh. It seems this star crossed lovers act when on longer than Peeta expected. Granted, I don't recall him or Katniss ever making their status official, but somewhere between the cave and now, Peeta thought both him and Katniss were on the same page about their feelings. He's not wrong for thinking Katniss liked him back, she does, what he didn't account for is Katniss not knowing herself that she liked him back.

I think Peeta learning the truth through Haymitch and not Katniss starts them on the wrong foot. Because she isn't honest with him for a majority of the time in this scene. Yes, Katniss was worried if the capitol could hear them, but even after Haymitch lets them know they can talk freely, she's still isn't 100% honest with Peeta.

Now here comes the big question.

“It was all for the Games,” Peeta says. “How you acted.” “Not all of it,” I say, tightly holding on to my flowers. “Then how much? No, forget that. I guess the real question is what’s going to be left when we get home?” he says. “I don’t know. The closer we get to District Twelve, the more confused I get,” I say. He waits, for further explanation, but none’s forthcoming

I'd be more than happy to dump all the blame on him for being a pissy baby after the revelation if it weren't for that last part at the end.

Peeta's hurt, yes, but he can rationalize that Katniss had to play lovers for the games, but here, right now, he's asking what he should be expecting when they get home. The words aren't there, but the subtext is loud and clear.

This is a confession. I'm hurt. But I still like you. Do you like me? Will we have something when we go home and the cameras are gone?

Katniss gives him her most honest answer yet. She doesn't know. She's confused and she's getting more confused as they get closer to home. And that's it. That's her answer. But it isn't enough.

Peeta explicitly waits for more of an explanation from Katniss. He hears nothing about her thoughts, feelings, fears. He only knows what she tells him. And when he doesn't get it, there's no other way to take it as a rejection.

So now what?

“Well, let me know when you work it out,” he says, and the pain in his voice is palpable. -THG- Chapter 27-

“No, I ate at the Hob,” I say. “But thank you.” My voice doesn’t sound like my own, it’s so formal. Just as it’s been every time I’ve spoken to Peeta since the cameras finished filming our happy homecoming and we returned to our real lives. -CF- Chapter 1

The camera crews and reporters packed up and went home. Peeta and I assumed the cool relationship we’ve had ever since. -CF- Chapter 2

And this is why I feel like it's so unfair to solely blame Peeta for their distance between THG and CF. This distance came from both sides.

Peeta ends Book one asking Katniss to be honest with him once she figures her own feelings out. But she never does. She just picks up her life and tries go back to what it was before the games.

Was he waiting for an answer? How long did he wait? When did he give up and accept that whatever was the 74th was something his mind made up while he lying half dead in a cave?

Katniss has a valid list of a million things that are clouding her feelings for Peeta. We know them because we're stuck in her head. But Peeta isn't. And to be honest, I don't think he ever knows all of them throughout the trilogy.

I want to tell him that he’s not being fair. That we were strangers. That I did what it took to stay alive, to keep us both alive in the arena. That I can’t explain how things are with Gale because I don’t know myself. That it’s no good loving me because I’m never going to get married anyway and he’d just end up hating me later instead of sooner. That if I do have feelings for him, it doesn’t matter because I’ll never be able to afford the kind of love that leads to a family, to children. And how can he? How can he after what we’ve just been through? -THG- Chapter 27-

And this isn't a silly little fling for Peeta. He's liked Katniss since forever. Has there been other girls that caught his eye? Yes, maybe, but Katniss Everdeen has always been a soft spot for him.

Now, there is a part of him that now as to wonder WTF was going on in the Games, in the Cave and the Interview that followed after. You know the one, where Katniss cries into his chest, buries her face into his chest and practically sits on him the entire time.

Unlike Katniss, Peeta now has to question everything because the rug has just been pulled from underneath him. Yes, he's aware about the lover act and playing it up for the audience, but he isn't aware that Katniss and Haymitch have some crazy telepathic connection to each other that was guiding how Katniss would act towards Peeta in the games. He was even delirious half the time. How far did that go? When did it even begin? He knew that Haymitch was sending packages to Katniss instead of him.

I'm not making this shit up because it's the one thing that Peeta outwardly expresses frustration at (especially) Katniss and Haymitch.

“This has to stop. Right now. This — this — game you two play, where you tell each other secrets but keep them from me like I’m too inconsequential or stupid or weak to handle them.” “It’s not like that, Peeta —” I begin. “It’s exactly like that!” he yells at me. “I have people I care about, too, Katniss! Family and friends back in District Twelve who will be just as dead as yours if we don’t pull this thing off. So, after all we went through in the arena, don’t I even rate the truth from you?” - CF - Chapter 5 -

So what is the point i'm making here? Oh right. I think Peeta is 1000% justified in withdrawing from Katniss after the train tracks. What else is he suppose to do? This isn't something he can bounce back and recover from right away. Taking a step back is the most mature thing to do in this situation. For his sake and hers.

I dislike the notion that his apology denotes complete wrong doing on his part. He's having a human moment and he navigates it better than most would. Yes, he freezes her out, but he doesn't berate her, blame her or is mean to her. He just fucks off and deals with his own emotions and only shows up to play the perfect boyfriend. (And when he does, he never does it with malice OR resentment, at least to from Katniss' obervation.) What other alternative is there? He's genuinely hurt and I feel like expecting him to be comforting and supportive on and off camera when he's hurting inside to be unfair.

We sympathize with Katniss because we're in her head 24/7. We can get to hear her yearn and pine for Peeta after the train tracks. But Katniss also just doesn't mention her every trying to fix her relationship with Peeta between books. She lets the ice freeze over until Peeta comes back to ofter friendship instead. Yes, she has trauma and more hang ups than the average modern day person, but so does Peeta. Trauma is an explanation, not an excuse. If Katniss is allowed three books to figure out her feelings for Peeta, Peeta should be allowed the in between of Book 1 and 2 to figure out his with Katniss.

There should be more nuance when we look at this point in time where Peeta and Katniss' relationship is estranged. Peeta has a lot of reasons why he might want distance from her and I think it's unfair to blame him for it. From him questioning the games, Katniss and Haymitch's involvement with each other and Katniss non-answer of a rejection to his feelings, there's a lot of things he needs to sort out himself. Yes, she saved his life, but she also doesn't answer a lot of questions he asks of her. Katniss doesn't owe him a relationship for what happened in the games, or even her reasons why she's not ready for a relationship. But in turn, we shouldn't blame Peeta if he personally needs time to pick himself up, to figure things out himself. And this is just one thing on top of the trauma that follows both of them after the games. He also just fucking lost his leg LMAO

[redrisingsun]

Currently sitting in my hayffie bubble pretending they had a reunion post-mockingjay. ITS WHAT WE DESERVE

no because you're so right?? i will never forgive susanne collins for not giving us more of these two. at least we got the kiss in the movies i guess :/

-

“Hey, you stupid fuck!”

Katniss watches with an amused grin as Haymitch chases after a wildly flapping goose. The poor thing hisses and honks as if that’ll save it from the hip flask that soon comes flying and just barely misses. 

There is only a moment’s panic when the peaceful morning is interrupted by footsteps and the crunching of sand underneath shoes.

When she turns to have a look over her shoulder, the sun blindes her for half a second. It’s enough to make her heart race, enough to make it difficult to breathe, but then her eyes adjust.

Effie Trinket comes towards her with a bright smile on her lips. She doesn’t wear a wig and her face is barely painted, though her dress is as extravagant as everything she wears. It’s a soft bluish green that reminds Katniss of the ocean and has been styled with silver jewelry and white gloves.

She wears flats. Katniss has never seen her so casual, and like this she must be shorter than Katniss herself. Even now, though, she’s dressed up in Katniss’ eyes. 

“Oh, my dear girl”, Effie greets. “Peeta said you would be out here.”

Effie glances over Katniss’ shoulder and Katniss thinks she can see a soft blush creep up on Effie’s cheeks, but even now the makeup hides it.

“Watching Haymitch is a lot more entertaining than anything they show on the TV.”

Effie laughs and they hug, a tight embrace that lasts just a moment too long.

“I got your letter”, Effie says, and only looks away when another string of obscenities leaves Haymitch. It’s impossible not to smile at her shocked expression. After all these years, you’d think Effie would have gotten used to it.

When she turns back to Katniss again, she smiles one of her blinding smiles (and it really is blinding, Katniss thinks, because her teeth are so white). 

“Congratulations!” Effie squeezes her hand. “I know the wed-…”

She’s cut off when Haymitch bursts through the gate and slams it shut, trapping the cackling goose on the other side of the fence. He’s panting, and only straightens up when he notices Effie.

The silent tension that follows is almost as bad as when her parents used to fight, back before her father passed away. It feels as if they should have so many things to say to each other, yet for a moment they say nothing at all. Katniss’ wonders if it would be awfully rude to walk away. 

Haymitch doesn’t break the silence, but he does open his arms and tugs Effie into a hug that’s just as tight and just as long as the one Katniss just shared with her.

“Took you long enough”, Haymitch says, but the grumble sounds too fond and gentle for him to actually be upset.

“You could write”, Effie protests, and when they finally pull away from the hug, Haymitch brushes his lips against Effie’s. 

Katniss has to suppress a gag. It could be comical, if it weren’t them. 

When their tender moment has lasted way too long for anything Katniss is comfortable with, she clears her throat and the two untangle from each other like lovesick teenagers that have just been caught by their parents. 

Disgusting, passes through Katniss’ mind before she changes her mind. It’s not so much disgusting as it’s unusual and weird and not how it’s meant to be.

-

When they’ve exchanged pleasantries, the three of them join Peeta in the kitchen. He pulls out two loaves of braided bread just as they walk inside and Effie squeals in delight.

On top of that, Peeta has made waffles and there’s half a jar of marmalade in the fridge. Katniss makes Effie and Haymitch coffee, and tea for Peeta. 

Effie and Peeta talk for a moment, and Effie lets out appropriate ohs and ahs at the right places.

It doesn’t take long until all four of them have found their seating at the table and Effie immediately asks about the wedding.

“Oh, if only we still had Cinna’s wedding dress”, Effie sighs into her cup of coffee. At the mention of the late stylist, her hand shoots up to her head, as if she’s suddenly reminded she’s without a wig. Her fingers touch her hair as if she’s surprised it’s there and Katniss has to turn away. It has her blood boiling for some reason. 

A tense silence follows and is only interrupted by Peeta offering everyone more waffles. Effie accepts two and Peeta passes the marmalade to her. Katniss’ shoulders drop slowly. 

“How long will you stay?”

“Actually”, Haymitch reaches for Effie’s hand under the table. “She’s here to stay.”

[lemonluvgirl]

“Do you think he’ll be ok?” I ask, gesturing towards the man behind the glass.

Peeta looks over at Finnick’s sleeping form, and after a few seconds, he shakes his head sadly.

“I know I wouldn’t be. If the Capitol had taken you. I’d be out of my mind.” He says, his voice thick.

Would you ever consider writing a small drabble of what it would have been like if Katniss had been captured instead of him? I keep reading this part of your story over and over again and I just looooveeeeee it.

Oh dear anon. I've written over 100K words about what would happen if Katniss had been captured and hijacked instead of Peeta. It's one of my main WIPs on Ao3 and FFN. Its called Golden Cages. Fair warning ⚠️ this fic is pretty dark, angsty, and completely whumpy. Proceed with caution.

Here's the link. And here’s an excerpt of Peeta being upset and angry AF about Katniss being captured: 

I fight the urge to spit in the face of the man I once considered to be the closest thing I had to a parental figure after my games.

"Look boy, you've got to hold it together for longer than 20 minutes at a time today. We need to go to a meeting in about an hour." Haymitch says as he stands at the foot of my bed.

"I'm not fucking going anywhere with you unless its to the goddamn Capitol to get my wife back!" I scream at him and his grey eyes squint at me. I must look ridiculous.

Strapped to a hospital bed. Dressed in a paper gown. An IV in my arm that is set to dispense a sedative at the first sign of trouble. They had learned after the first few escape attempts that I am very strong when I need to be. And I had torn the restraints before. I strained against them now, angry.

"Knock that shit off you little ass. You're not so delusional that you've forgotten the wedding was fake. Its time to stop pretending and man the fuck up. Face the reality of the situation. We've got no chance trying to get her back on our own. I know you know that! Your damn leg is so fucked up you can't even stand for longer than a few minutes. I can barely wipe my own ass. My hands may as well be purely decorative at this point. All our other fighters are out of commission. There's no way we'd get 5 miles-"

"Oh I'd get 5 miles. I'll crawl the whole way back if I have to! If you're too much of a damn coward then just sign the fucking papers and let me go! I'll go on my own! I'll go without you!" I scream at the top of my lungs.

He shakes his head at me tiredly. I want to laugh. I vaguely want to break something. But I've already broken more things than I can count. It doesn't help. They've removed everything nonessential from the room and watch me almost religiously whenever I go to the bathroom or sit up to eat. I just want to get out of here.

I need to get out of here, and find her.

The goddamn doctors and Haymitch had cooked up this bullshit scheme to keep me locked up in this hospital. Mentally unfit, a danger to myself, delusional, etc. They had made Haymitch my legal guardian. So I could only be discharged if he signed the papers.

I had broken a hospital food tray when they told me. Bent it in half and threw the whole thing through a window at the thought that Hyamitch, of all people, was capable of being my keeper. I struggled against the restraints again. Damn it they had tied them too tight this time. I couldn't get any leeway. While my arms were restrained, my fingers weren't. I flipped Haymitch off with both my middle fingers, letting him see my deep contempt and hatred for him at this moment.

"Goddamnit Peeta! Calm the fuck down for just a single minute! I need you to think about this logically. WE can't do this on our own. WE NEED HELP. We need to go to a meeting with 13's president. We need to plead our case. So I need you to hold it together. For an hour. Hour and a half tops. If you have to be sedated at any time during this meeting you will BLOW our shot at getting her back. If you start screaming about getting your fake wife back, or start sobbing under a damn chair or desk you will BLOW this for us. You need to reign it in. You need to find that boy from the tours. You need to get ready for show time, so that we can have a shot at this."

I look up at him. My very fraught and fragile mind took in the words plead our case, and 13's president, and shot at getting her back.

I stopped staring at the bands of immovable fabric holding me against the bed. I sat back and just studied Haymitch.

My mentor's face was not a pretty sight, not that he'd ever looked healthy since I'd known him. But he looked pretty bad right now. Grey and washed out. Hands bandaged into comically large balls of white gauze, and an all together sleepless and haggard look on his face. So I guess he hadn't just given up and worked his way into the painkillers or medical supplies in an effort to escape from all this.

I sighed.

"What about the others?" I asked him quietly. I had heard he was scheduled for another surgery three days ago. Apparently Deen at least had tried to keep his promise to me, and had gone after Katniss that last day even after he was so injured he could barely stay conscious. I had expected no less from him. But I had been worried about him, in the moments that I was lucid enough to worry about something other than what Snow was doing to Kantiss at any given moment.

"Deen’s till in a medically induced coma. The swelling in his brain hasn't completely gone down. The tracker jacker venom really did a number on him, especially since he tried to keep running after he got stung. It just pumped the venom all throughout his body. Bullet fragments were removed without incident. They're gonna try and wake him up in a day or two." Haymitch says in an equally tired voice and then closes his eyes, before running his bandaged hand down his face in worry.

I swallow around my dry mouth. The medicine they've been given me to try and pacify me has strange side effects, dry mouth being one of them. I needed to get off them. I needed my head clear, if I was going to have to be the golden orator they wanted from the victory tours.

"Fine. No more fucking pills or needles. And I need to shower, and I need some real clothes unless you think my bare ass hanging out the back of this flimsy hospital gown is gonna help our case." I tell Haymitch dryly and he looks up at me with a glint of hope in his eyes for the first time in a week.

"Hell if I know, boy. I've never met the woman." He says with something faintly resembling a smirk.

"So their president is a woman?" I ask and he nods.

"Yeah, Coin's her name. Don't know much else other than they're all really strict around here. Former military, they do everything by the book. So you should probably shave before you go down as well. That is, if you're not still planning on breaking out of here and taking on the Capitol with one good leg and a damn razor blade." He says, eyeing me suspiciously. He is trying to assess if my sudden change of attitude is genuine or feigned to get him to lower his guard.

"Haymitch all I want is to get her back. If I need to go to a hundred meetings to do that I'll go. I'll say whatever I have to. I'll be whoever I have to. I can't lose her."

"I know, boy. Alright, let me tell them to come and unstrap you." He says before he leaves and I sit back patiently. I am truly motivated, for the first time in all the long seconds and minutes and hours and days since they told me she'd been captured.

.

.

.

.

[endlessnightlock]

#36 please? :)

"You're the first person I think about when I wake up."

Thank you @heathersaid <3

From the prompt list 101 Ways to Say I Love You

An alternate take on the time between the end of THG and the beginning of Catching Fire. Canon-Divergent. Rated T

The sculpted bronze water fountain in the center of Victor’s Village had been installed, according to Effie Trinket, as a gift for Twelve’s Victors for their contributions to Panem. The care the artists took crafting it, entirely with them in mind, was situated in the center of the rarely-traveled lane. The fountain was for their enjoyment- why they should be honored by the gesture! 

Effie, of course, was full of shit. 

Like their homes and everything in them, the water fountain was nothing more than a prop for the Capitol crews to shoot footage around. Twelve’s drab surroundings certainly weren’t picturesque enough for the viewers without classing it up a bit. 

Couldn’t let anyone see the starving children or the emaciated elderly. It would be untoward to film the Star-Crossed Lovers in front of anything so crass as a row of run-down shacks— the “Capitol-provided housing” for most residents of the area.

Not that the water fountain held any meaning to Katniss. She gave very little thought to it and certainly wasn’t at that moment. It just so happened she finally cornered Peeta next to the fountain for a long-overdue conversation. 

Catching up with him had proved no small task. Not because Peeta avoided her, which he did. This was the first time Katniss found the nerve to approach him. 

Peeta and Katniss, The Star Crossed Lovers, were a big deal in the Capitol for their whirlwind romance, their oath to die together if they neither was allowed to live. 

Forget about them being lovers; Katniss was concerned with salvaging some part of their wrecked friendship at this point. “I didn’t know it was real for you till later,” she admitted to Peeta nervously while he stood next to her in silence. He made her ill at ease, but she was the one who’d stopped him, waving the white flag so she’d better suck it up and get out what she needed to say.

She missed Peeta. She was mentally caught trying to explain that she didn’t want to pretend they were in love for the cameras, only to act like strangers at home. It frustrated her and left her feeling guilty that they’d spent all those years hovering around each other only to slide back into avoidance post-games. 

Katniss didn’t care for people lightly. Whatever her feelings for Peeta meant, he’d lured her in with his kindness and now had a place in her heart. Their lives became irrevocably tied by both small things that meant a lot, like the friendship and coziness of time spent inside a cave in the middle of hell, and larger ones, like life-threatening sacrifices they made for each other. The horrors they’d survived and the misery of watching Peeta die behind an impenetrable wall of glass, twice, only for medics to resuscitate him. 

Peeta was the only one who might understand the nightmares waking her at night so fearful she prayed not to fall asleep, the guilt, the constant state of dread she existed in, knowing one slip up could mean the destruction of everyone she loved. She couldn’t lose Peeta. She needed him.

“I thought you were playing your part for the Games. I thought you knew,” Katniss murmured. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I was only thinking about trying to keep us both alive. It’s what I’ve done my whole life,” she added as an afterthought. “I didn’t know until the interview that Haymitch hadn’t let you in on our plan. He didn’t give me a chance to explain things to you or talk to you alone.”

“I’m not a mind reader Katniss, although you and Haymitch have that skill in the bag,” Peeta said. He sighed. “I know you weren’t playing with my emotions. I’m mostly embarrassed. I should have known.”

“Don’t be. Peeta—” she wanted to tell him she cared about him, but that would just confuse both of them more because she didn’t know what those feelings meant.

“What I don’t understand is why you didn’t believe it when I told you I liked you in the first place?” He seemed puzzled. Hurt, but not angry. “I don’t know what I did wrong.”

Katniss laughed uncomfortably. “You were such a good actor, and everything in the Games is a show. You know that!. That’s why I didn’t know what to believe from you. We didn’t even know each other then. It didn’t make sense that you were interested in me. And you’re hard to read.”

“Me? I’m hard to read?” he said dryly, smiling at her for the first time in a long time. That parting of lips and flash of white teeth bolstered Katniss’s confidence. 

“Look at how you got in with the Careers! You fooled them, and the Capitol audience loved you at first sight.”

“They only cared about me because of you,” Peeta said bemusedly. 

“You were the one who gave them something to be interested in in the first place.” Sure they thought a lot of her now but during the pre-Games interviews? She hadn’t stood out from the crowd a bit. “They didn’t give a damn about me until the Games began,” Katniss felt like shaking some sense into Peeta. “We both know they liked “us” better than me. You’re a lot more charming than I am.”

“Oh yeah?” Peeta said drily. 

“Yes, really,” Katniss had to cover a laugh behind her hand. 

The smile dropped off her face when he shrugged. “Charming to everyone but you.”

“I think you know that’s not entirely true,” she said, breaking the silence that settled between them once again. “You never let me explain once we got off the train.”

“You don’t have to say that,” Peeta told her. “I was such an ass to you that day, and I’m sorry for acting so wounded. I don’t always know what to say when caught off guard. Sometimes I lash out.”

“I never know what to say either. Obviously,” Katniss murmured, thinking of the whys of how they found themselves in this situation.

He smiled at her admission. “I’ve come to realize that.”

“But you’re wrong about everything,” Katniss began, scuffing the toe of her Capitol boots on the cobblestone walkway for something to do. She wasn’t good at saying things, but to get Peeta to see; she was going to try. “You thought it was all an act, but It wasn’t. I was confused by you and my feelings. I liked our time together in the cave,” she admitted. “I liked kissing you.”

“You did?” Katniss could hear the smile in Peeta’s voice.

“Yeah. You were funny and kind, and you made me feel safe. You don’t know how much it meant having you there. After, on the way home, I hated it when you thought everything I did or said was an act.”

“You said not all of it,” Peeta took her hand, threading their fingers together.

Katniss exhaled raggedly. “Not all of it isn’t the same as none, you know. Not all of it means some.  But it doesn’t matter what I feel or don’t feel. You’re wasting your time on me. I’m never getting married.”

“I didn’t ask you to marry me,” he said, sounding confused. “We’re sixteen, Katniss.” 

She had to make Peeta see he was only kicking the can further down the road with that thinking. She couldn’t begin something she wouldn’t let herself finish. She didn’t have that luxury. “Sure, we’re sixteen, but we won’t be forever. And then what? I can’t let myself feel that way about you. I care about you a lot, but I can’t fall in love with you.”

Peeta didn’t answer. He had that unreadable expression on his face again. “Can you at least say something?” Katniss prodded nervously. 

He sighed. “Do you want to try being friends? You’re the first person I think about every morning, and not talking to you or knowing how you are has been awful. I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Katniss admitted. “I’d love to be friends again.”

Peeta smiled, and the tension she’d been carrying around rushed away in a torrent, leaving her steadier than she’d felt in months. Overjoyed, she stepped into Peeta’s space and threw her arms around him. The last time they’d spoken, she never wanted to let go of him, unsure if she would ever have the opportunity again. Now that he understood, Katniss wasn’t going to waste it.

[bill-y]

𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐑𝐄

Peeta Mellark x male reader

We all know who Katniss Everdeen is, but what if Primrose hadn’t been chosen but another boy from another unfortunate family? YOUR family.

Info: This is basically a reader insert and I’ve changed a few rules, not ground breaking though. The reader is a bit bland for now but I plan for his actions to be different. Because he has different moral grounds from Katniss and such. Would appreciate feedback! FEEL FREE TO POINT OUT TYPOS. GRAMMARLY SOMETIMES DOESN’T DO MY DYSLEXIC ASS JUSTICE

Part two: Click here, bomburino tortilla pony horse.

Part three: You're here, my guy.

Part four: Click here, amigo

Wattpad acc: L0calxDumbass

It didn't take long before I came home, my mother and brother was already dressed, and I was right, Kunal has been crying.

He immediately lightened up when he saw the bread, pushing the sleeves of my first reaping outfit (which was now his) back in order to munch on it.

"Don't worry, you only have your name once in the pile, you're safe," I reassured him, as I've done many times before.

I smiled, patting his head. My mother glanced at me, but I pretended to not notice. It's been long since we've talked, the last time was a disagreement, a petty one at that. About two years or so?

I honestly surpised myself, how can I go without talking to her for so long. . .?

Another trait my father passed on to me was a short temper, though I never lose my head and scream, but something about her words made me yell. Her face was full of shock when I did that, almost as if I've betrayed her.

"Don't be stupid like your father!" She told me.

My father isn't a stupid man, he was smart. Lady luck just wasn't on his side that day.

I took a bath, scrubbing the dirt and soot off myself. When I saw my clothing my heart stopped. It was my Father's.

It was simple, just as he liked. A white button up tunic, the hems made of elegant gold lace. The pants were loose, with garters securing on the hip and the hems, he never liked tight clothing, just like me.

My eyes went towards my mother, who simply nodded, "After you get dressed, sit down, won't you? Let me fix your hair," she said.

My mouth opened to protest, only to shut itself when she whispered a small, "please," My eyes softened, her voice sounded so guilty, she regretted her words, just as I did. She knew I could get chosen.

But I'm a coward, I don't like apologizing, something I inherited from her.

I nodded, and got dressed before I sat down, just as she told me. She began to braid tiny sections of my hair. I've never been good at it, really, It would always look messy when I did it. So I just looked messy everyday.

But her hands can do magic, it was like she was weaving silk, her hands full of grace and utmost care as she intertwined every strand of hair. I could feel her hand shake a little, as if scared with one wrong touch, I'd shatter like glass.

She used to sew clothing, make various artworks with whatever was in the house. Her hand was naturally delicate, soft to anything she makes contact with.

I bit my lip, none of us wanted to say it. We we're both thinking the same thing, though.

I never really liked cutting my hair, always kept it atleast neck length at best. I don't think short hair suits me at all, though it does get in the way while hunting from time to time.

Once she finished, without a word she pressed her chapped lips onto my forehead, she then walked away, leaving me with a pit of guilt in my stomach.

Such simple words, why can't I just say it?

I sighed, fixing my tunic and tucking it in, the garter snapping back, making me wince a little. It was stupid of me to let go.

I took a deep breath in, mustering all the courage I had to walk towards my brother, who has devoured the entire loaf. "Good?" I asked.

He nodded, a smile on his face, the crumbs falling down. I chuckled, wiping his mouth with my hand.

"You're like a bird, aren't you, little mocking jay?" I said, patting his head again.

He hummed, nodding aggressively, his hair bouncing up and down. I snickered, holding his head still with both my hands. I squished his cheeks together, making his lips form into a duck beak-shape. "Hey, Y/n,"

I rose my brows, humming. "I won't get chosen, won't I?" he asked. I sniffed, shaking my head as I linked our foreheads. "No, no you wont, Nal," I said. "If they call you, I won't let you go, alright?"

"You promise?"

"Of course,"

Soon it hit one in the afternoon, it was mandatory to attend this "festival", unless you're at death's door, that is. I found myself beside Gale, who patted my shoulder for reassurance.

Maybe it was obvious I'm stressed, tense. I'm not worried about myself, I'm more worried of them, especially Kunal. He's only twelve, yet he can still get chosen.

Some kind of festival this is.

I clenched my fists tighter, palms started to go white as I also clenched my jaw.

On the temporary stage stationed in front of the justice building was a podium, three chairs and two large bowls. The district is divided into two sections, jumbled across those two glass bowls, waiting to be picked up.

Twenty of them contained 'Y/n Greyback', one of them contained 'Kunal Greyback'.

There were also bright banners hung up, though I'm sure it was just there to taunt us, it sure worked for me. Everytime I look at it I start feel sick, hatred bubbling in my stomach.

The feeling of claustrophobia began to settle in as people piled into the square, the late comers having to just watch from a monitor instead.

"You alright?" Gale asked, nudging me. I gulped, sighing, "Course, I just —" I turned back, looking at my brother. "Worry of him,"

He gave me a sympathetic look, "He only has one entry, I'm sure he won't be picked," He said. Something I've been saying for such a long time, it didn't help settle my nerves.

"I know," I answered plainly.

We looked towards Katniss' place, beside her was Mardge, who gave me a curt smile and a wave. Out of politeness, I simply nodded back before turning back to the stage.

My hands grew colder each second, by two, when the mayor finally reached the stage, my hands were as cold as a corpse's.

Beside the mayor was Effie Trinket, District 12’s escort, fresh from the Capitol with her scary white grin, pinkish hair, and spring green suit. It looked quite ghastly.

Everyone murmured in worry, for whom was the empty third seat for?

The mayor stepped in front of the podium, beginning to tell the tale of Panem, how the twelve districts lost in the rebellion and now have to face punishment.

The Hunger games.

It was simple, each district would pick two "tributes" to this little game, and then they either kill like a hungry wolf or die like lost cattle.

I gulped, sweat forming on my forehead as I instinctively reached for the end of Gale's shirt. He held my hand, patting it a few times to let me know it would be alright.

He then began to read the victors in every hunger games. In the past seventy-four years, we have had exactly two.

Only one is still alive. Haymitch Abernathy, a paunchy, middle-aged man, who at this moment appears hollering something unintelligible, staggers onto the stage, and falls into the third chair.

To say he's drunk would be an understatement.

The crowd responds with its token applause, but he’s confused and tries to give Effie Trinket a big hug, which she barely manages to fend off.

The mayor looks distressed. Since all of this is being televised, right now District 12 is the laughingstock of Panem, and he knows it. He quickly tries to pull the attention back to the reaping by introducing Effie Trinket.

Bright and bubbly as ever, she began to talk. I could feel my blood boiling upon hearing her obnoxious, Capitol accent. I tuned her out, gulping as my hands somehow grew even colder.

Please don't let it be my brother, anyone but him.

"Let's have the first pick, shall we?" She said, her voice at the end of the sentence practically sky rocketing up. She pulled a piece of paper from one of the Glass bowls.

My heart pounded, as if trying to escape my chest. I closed my eyes, taking deep breaths in.

"Kunal Greyback,"

My heart stopped. Why couldn't it have been me? I had twenty, TWENTY entries.

I watched as my brother walked past me, his lip quivering, eyes glossy. Oh sweet, sweet Kunal, as delicate as a Lotus.

Kunal, the boy who gathers flowers every morning just for me.

Kunal, the boy who loves pulling on my braids.

Kunal, my dear innocent brother. Afraid of his own shadow.

I felt my own body move, launching myself forward. Gale called for my name, but I didn't care, no. I needed to get to my brother, I made a promise.

"NAL! NAL! NO!" I yelled, desperation evident in my voice as I pushed through the other people. "Y/n!" He screamed back.

Most of then gave me and my brother looks of sympathy, some gossiped. "Greyback," they'd whisper. "Another one bites the dust," they'd continue.

The peace keepers pushed me back, preventing me from reaching my brother.

No, not like this. He's still so young, he still wants to gather lilys by the front of our house, he still wants to create flower crowns for me to wear.

He still wants to breath, to live.

The mayor looked at me, recignizing me almost immediately. He didn't know me, no. Rather, he knew my father, the man he put under the execution block.

Oh mother, I'm sorry it had to be this way. It seems another one of your family members will die at the hands of the Capitol.

"I volunteer!" I gasped, gulping down nothing. My mouth was dry.

"I volunteer as a tribute!"

Word count: 1.6k

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