#i could've used a wood grain brush

[tlmtwelve]

Dryad Mayday

Creature Prompt: @pinahallowsevecloneparty

[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 five: Click here, butters, elpacho, last meheecan.

Part six: You're here, dumb!

Part seven: Finally here!

Wattpad account: L0calxDumbass

Peeta and I end up helping Haymitch to his compartment, the reek of vomit and alcohol wasn't exactly pleasant.  Since we couldn't set him down the bed, we ended up hauling him to the bathtub, setting the shower on him. 

Peeta gave me an odd look when I laughed awhile ago; there was no humour in the situation after all. Forming a good impression wasn't really on my agenda. "It's alright; I can take it from here," he said.

I nodded, "Okay," I nodded, putting my lips together. "Do you—need me to call those Capitol people?" I asked, stumbling over my words. My confidence seemed to have been drained at some point.

He shook his head "No, I don't want them," he responded. I nod for the last time and head to my own room, relieved that I don't have to wash putrid vomit off Haymitch's chest hair, or something. Though it would be the perfect "revenge" for the people working here, I get why he doesn't want to see them. 

I wonder, why does he want to help such a wreck? Was he simply kind like the time he gave me bread? Or was he using this to gain Haymitch's favour? A feeling of nervousness bubbled up within me, a kind Peeta Mellark was way more dangerous than an unkind one. Not everyone in the district can afford to be kind, so kind people make such a mark on me.

I looked at the packet of cookies at the table beside the fancy bed—a lump formed in my throat. Kindness would've been nice, but not in this situation. I sighed, taking my attention to the window instead. 

There stood a lonely yellow flower, a dandelion. It took me back to the schoolyard, all those years ago. My eyes had just left Peeta's bruised face when I saw that dandelion; hope rose within me that moment, I plucked it gently from the ground and hurried home. I grabbed a small, broken bucket and grabbed Nal's hand and headed to a meadow. It was filled with the same flowers.

It was the first moment where Nal smiled after our Father's death. He loved the way the flowers smelled and looked. However, he was quite upset because we had to eat them, with the rest of the bakery bread. My father loved his plants, maybe a bit too much. 

I remember countless hours we spent in the woods looking for a specific type of plant, whether for eating or for medicine. He had me memorize them by heart, which took a couple of years because I got distracted halfway through. 

The next day, we were off to school. I hung around the edge of the meadow after, contemplating whether I should jump the fence. My mother couldn't get a job, well, she didn't want to. She thought the whole District would shame her the moment she stepped out of our crumbling home. It made no sense to me; we had nothing to lose anymore.

Which is exactly why I went under the fence, retrieved the old, leather-bound daggers my father made from scraps and wood. It was pretty frail, but if you handle it carefully and throw it properly, it won't break—most of the time.

I didn't go beyond twenty yards that day; I didn't feel confident enough to go deeper, fearing I'd get lost in the forest. I took home a small rabbit that day, we hadn't had meat for months, so it honestly looked like a full course meal, like the one we were served in the tribute train.

My mother isn't the greatest cook, so she burnt a couple of bits, mainly the thighs. But it still filled us. The woods became my second home, escaping the sad atmosphere my mother gave off and the pressure the Peacekeepers would regularly make us feel. 

The hunting started slow, but each time I went under, I went deeper. I stole eggs from nests, jumped from tree to tree and managed to shoot a squirrel or two down. I struggled with the fish; my father would always throw his dagger to the fish with little to no effort. Whenever I'd throw mine, it would miss. It took me a couple of times to figure out the water distorts my vision.

The plants were no effort; I knew which one to pick, which ones were poisonous. The signs of danger used to terrify me back to the fence until I gathered enough courage to climb the tall trees, then I stuck with it, not liking the feeling of being chased. The wild dogs would always leave me alone after a while.

On July 15th, I finally signed up for the tesserae, carrying the first batch of grains and oils in the same broken bucket I used to gather those dandelions. I patched it up with some scrap bark. On the 15th of every month, I would put my name once again. I still had to hunt; grains weren't enough. We still needed soap, milk, thread and many more things we used to have. I began to trade in the hob, learning how to hold my tongue in the process. My father used to trade there as well; he used to do all the talking while I watched, stayed silent. 

And so I simply tossed the game I had to their tables. They caught on fairly quick; I'd only speak up when it came to bargaining or when I'd change what'd I'd buy. Or when I would insult wild dog soup. My father was a charismatic man, always able to persuade people to buy whatever. Not me, though, I was like a sore thumb. Painful, to talk to at least.

My mother wasn't very enthralled with the fact that I had been hunting, too much like my father, she said. That's when we argued, "Don't be stupid like your father!" she shouted. I remember my face contorting to anger, how my fists clenched as she continued to scream. 

I finally exploded, "Why don't you go out and get a job if you don't want me hunting, then? You'd rather we starve?!" I said, slamming the table. "I won't die, I won't end up like father! I won't be Capitol's pig, neither was he!" 

"But if you do die?" She argued back, tears flowing down her cheeks as she gripped both my shoulders. "I'm only thinking of you, Y/n!"

I scoffed, glaring at her, "If you're thinking of us so much, then why aren't you helping us?! If I don't die being accused of rebellion, then I'll die because of those stupid games because of you!"

"Don't blame me for this! It was your father's fault for being brash—" She reasoned, but I cut her off by pushing her off me. I stared at her as if she grew three heads. "They asked you," I whispered, "All you did was nod, you could've lied."

Her green eyes shook at my words, "Lie to the Peacekeepers? The Capitol? And get us killed as well?! I only what your father wanted," 

"They didn't have anything on father! It was your voice that gave it away! It's your fault that he's dead, now we're over here starving because you can't get over yourself—"

Then there was a sting on my cheek. She had slapped me. My eyes landed on a crying Kunal; guilt surged through me, so I ran. I ran to the woods and slept on top of a tree, humming a soft tune to the mockingjays next to me. They listened and sung back. I fell asleep to their lullaby, surprisingly, not falling off.

I found my hand on the same cheek my mother slapped that day. I was going to die the same way I said, how ironic. I won't be able to apologize or tell my mother I loved her anymore. A sigh left my lips as I continued to stare out the window. 

I clenched my fists, punching the wall as my breath hitched. I let out a groan, holding the stinging part of my hand. I glared at the wall, grumbling under my breath before I decided to fall asleep, not wanting to think of my regrets and what I could've done. As I closed my eyes, I only hoped my dreams would be pleasant. 

"Up! Up! Up! It's a big big day!"

Effie Trinket's voice awoke me from my dreamless slumber. I groaned, muttering profanities as she left my compartment. I tried to imagine what it was like in that stupid wig--- well--- head of hers, it made my head hurt.

I had fallen asleep in the green shirt, causing it to become wrinkled, the. Not that I cared, there will be some stylist stripping me anyways. I shuddered at the thought of Capitol people touching me, what a nightmare. My eyes landed on the packet of cookies on my bedside table. I decided to grab it.

I entered the dining compartment, still half-lidded and yawning. Effie Trinket brushes me with a cup of black coffee. She was muttering obscenities, probably because of Haymitch. Peeta held a roll, looking somewhat embarrassed  "Sit down! Sit down!" Haymitch said.

Peeta flashed me a smile, amused by how dishevelled I look. To be fair, I wasn't a morning person, I find waking up to be a tiring task. I rubbed my eyes, the packet of cookies still in my hands as I slid down the chair.

They served an enormous platter of food. I'd hate to admit it, but I was starving. So for the first time, I decided to stab it with the fork, not sure what to do with the cookies so I pocketed them. I figured I'd eat them much. . . much later.

I chewed slowly, glare on my face as my eyes struggled to remain open. I didn't even notice the orange juice next to me because of it. Peeta nudged me, handing me a cup of brown, rich liquid. It was quite warm. "They call it hot chocolate," he said. "It's quite good,"

My green eyes moved from him to the cup, then back to him. As if asking for permission. I sniffed, muttering a "thank you," before I took the cup from him. The moment the hot chocolate touched my lips I felt awake.

Not only was it hot, but it was also amazing. I've never tasted anything like this before. Coffee was a luxury, this I cannot even fathom. After I've drained my cup, I put it down and muster a sheepish smile. "Is there more?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

Effie seemed to be excited by my sudden interest. "Glad you're finally appreciating the finer things," she quipped as another cup was passed to me. "Right," I responded, gripping the cup tightly.

I stopped eating when I felt somewhat full, only asking for more hot chocolate. Peeta is still eating, breaking off bits of roll and dipping them in his hot chocolate.

Haymitch hasn’t paid much attention to his platter, but he’s knocking back a glass of red juice that he keeps thinning with a clear liquid from a bottle. Judging by the fumes, it’s some kind of spirit. I don’t know Haymitch, but I’ve seen him often enough in the Hob, tossing handfuls of money on the counter of the woman who sells white liquor. He’ll be a mess again by the time we reach the Capitol.

"So, you're supposed to give us advice," I said, taking a sip of the hot liquid. He grinned, "Here's some advice, stay alive," then he burst out laughing.

My brows furrowed, "Ha. Ha." I let out, unamused. I glanced to Peeta, surprised to see Hardness in his eyes. Usually, he looked mild. "That's very funny," he said as if adding to my remark. He suddenly lashed out at the glass in Haymitch's hands. It shattered, spilling the blood-red liquid on the floor. "Only not to us,"

Haymitch took this opportunity to punch Peeta straight in the jaw, knocking the boy out of his chair before turning around to reach for more spirits. I stopped him, driving a knife into the table, between his hand and the bottle, barely missing his fingers.

I expected some sort of retaliation, but that didn't come. "Oh, well what is this?" he said. "Did I actually get a pair of fighters this year?"

Peeta rose from the floor and scoops up a handful of ice from under the fruit tureen. He started to raise it to the red mark on his jaw.

"No," Haymitch stopped him. "Let the bruise show. The audience will think you’ve mixed it up with another tribute before you’ve even made it to the arena."

"That’s against the rules," said Peeta. "Only if they catch you. That bruise will say you fought, you weren’t caught, even better," said Haymitch. He turns to me. “Can you hit anything other than the table?"

I shrugged, pulling the knife off the table. "Your head or. . ." I said, before tossing the knife in between the seams of two panels. If I was confident at one thing, it's my aim. But not so much with a bow.

"Stand over here. Both of you," ordered Haymitch, nodding to the middle of the room. We obey and he circles us, prodding us like animals at times, checking our muscles, examining our faces. “Well, you’re not entirely hopeless. Seem fit. And once the stylists get hold of you, you’ll be attractive enough.”

Peeta and I don’t question this. The Hunger Games aren’t a beauty contest, but the best-looking tributes always seem to pull more sponsors. Though I do enjoy the fact that the stylists are likely going to have a hard time styling me.

"All right, I’ll make a deal with you. You don’t interfere with my drinking, and I’ll stay sober enough to help you," said Haymitch. "But you have to do everything I say,"

Of course, there's a catch. "Fine," Peeta said while I shrugged carelessly, sipping on my hot chocolate. "In a few minutes, we’ll be pulling into the station. You’ll be put in the hands of your stylists. You’re not going to like what they do to you. But no matter what it is, don’t resist," Instructed Haymitch

Oh, well there goes my plan on being a general nuisance. Damn you, Haymitch.

He takes the bottle of spirits from the table and leaves the car. As the door swings shut behind him, the car goes dark. There are still a few lights inside, but outside it’s as if night has fallen again. I realize we must be in the tunnel that runs up through the mountains into the Capitol. The mountains form a natural barrier between the Capitol and the eastern districts. It is almost impossible to enter from the east except through the tunnels. This geographical advantage was a major factor in the districts losing the war that led to my being a tribute today. Since the rebels had to scale the mountains made them easy targets for the Capitol's air forces.

Peeta and I stood in silence. My finger raised, mouth opening but I decided it wasn't worth it and awkwardly shuffled to one of the windows. He seemed to have caught on, however. "Nice view, isn't it?" he joked.

"I guess if you're blind," I answered dryly, raising the warm cup to my lips. "Sophisticated darkness, my favourite type," I finished.

He chuckled, walking next to me, the train slowing on cue. My muscles tensed as the sunlight entered the compartment. It was blinding. After my eyes adjusted I finally saw the Capitol.

I would be lying if I said it wasn't beautiful. Rainbow hued buildings that tower to the sky, possibly beyond. Shiny cars rolling on the fancy, clean pavement streets. The cameras failed to capture its beauty. It would've been perfect if not for the fact that the oddly dressed colours, wearing blizzard wigs and painted faces exist.

They looked painfully artificial. I much prefer the natural tones of district 12. "Eugh, how do they look at themselves?" I muttered, catching the attention of Peeta, who chuckled at my comment.

Huh, I forgot that he was there.

The same disgusting people began to point at us, enthralled. I was sickened, they couldn't wait to watch us kill each other like wild wolves. I suppose that's better than ending up at soup.

I stepped back, a scowl on my face. No longer able to stand the obnoxious attires and the mocking smiles of scums. Peeta held his ground, smiling and waving at them.

He only stopped when the train stopped at the station, blocking up from their view. "Who knows?" he said. "Some of them may be rich."

My body seemed to freeze as I took one last sip of the now-luke warm hot chocolate. That's when I realized, I had misjudged him. Not that I can read people well.

Which made sense, if I could I would've known that his father visiting me, offering to help Haymitch only to challenge him and now, waving and smiling at those slugs. He had a plan in mind.

He hasn't accepted his death yet. Peeta Mellark, the boy who gave me bread was fighting hard.

And that terrified me.

word count: 2.8k

Hey guys! sorry for the long wait! Had to take a break!

tags;

@nin3s

[malaks-perch]

jewel of land and sea

portia devorak x reader

mazelinka's beautiful friend surprises you in more ways than one...

warnings: uhh... a dash of spice because it's portia

you were a friend of mazelinka's. she'd taken care of you as a kid and raised you to be quite the privateer. it was because of her that you'd become resourceful, intelligent, and honorable amongst those who were either mercenaries or royal officers.

when she asked you to come along with her on a voyage looking for some rare, magical ingredients that were up for grabs in nevivion. but you didnt know it would mean meeting her lovely friends.

ilya, or better known as julian, he'd kept you company for most of the trip. both of you telling extravagant stories to each other as the day went on, joking and racing around the ship as if you were two children competing for nothing, but their pride.

when you saw julian was balancing fruit on his limbs you decided to have fun with him. going up behind him, a bag of spoiled potatoes overboard and shrieking.

"mazelinka fell overboard!" you shouted.

julian stumbled off the barrell falling onto his stomach making the fruit spilled around the doctor. laughs from behind you forced you to spin around finding mazelinka shaking her head with a smile and a very breathtaking redhead giggling next to her.

pretty red curls spilling over her shoulders and framing the porcelain skin that was blushed by the heat of the sun. maybe it was the pearls that peaked between plump lips. maybe it was how her eyes peaked open and the ocean itself laid beneath them. or the constellations of freckles on her face.

"you're staring again."

your head whipped away from portia down to julian in an effort to distract yourself from the pounding in your chest. "it's hard not to when the jewel of land and sea is standing before us." returning julian's knowing smirk, but not daring to look over at portia.

"what a charmer.." julian raised his brows at you and then portia with a smile. "is there anyone else who doesn't fall victim to that wonderful smile?"

"mazelinka." you grinned, motioning over at her. "m my compliments no longer brush through her impeccable fortress."

"pasha, is the only one." julian smiled, nodding to the redhead who was not so shyly checking you out. "she always gets what she wants."

"as her brother you must know that her smile could end wars." you winked at portia who raised a brow with a smirk aimed at her brother.

"it could attract the wrong company." julian huffed, tossing one of his fallen fruits toward you.

"don't call that one the wrong company!" mazelinka hit julian across the forehead with a spoon.

pepi curled around your legs, purring and rubbing herself on you, "see?" the feline mewled upon being picked up and held. "pepi loves me."

"pepi loves anyone who can give her a good scratch." laughs ensued on the deck upon seeing pepi's version of a glare that was pointed at julian.

mazelinka was quick to wrap up this evening, "alright everyone! i want to be at our midway point before dusk."

julian was climbing the mast and you were rushing down to mazelinka's cabin to calculate the speed of the ship's course.

you were rolling out a map, setting paperweights down and laying out papers when mazelinka's door peeked open.

standing half in the doorway, portia stared at you with innocent eyes that sparkled with curiosity and a bit of anxiety. she wandered into the room with a shy smile and gave a nod towards the papers.

"need something?" how rude was that? you were kicking yourself upon first greeting mazelinka's family.

portia blushed, clearing her throat and her fingers bridging in the same way a servant might have. "mazelinka said you might need help finding her compass."

"i do." you admitted, standing upright so you didn't look so frantic from being unable to find the simple drawing tool. "i would love a helping hand from mazelinka's most precious ward."

portia went around the desk, sliding out a drawer and clicking open it's underside to reveal the hidden tool.

"was that always there?"

"she said that she rearranged this place."

"that's strange, she said everything was how she—" you weren't ready for when portia turned to face you.

pretty blue eyes staring up at you, the smell of coconut fanned over your face from the fruit she'd so eagerly devoured earlier. you forced your eyes to stay on hers to keep from glancing down at portia's lips.

"— wanted it." you murmured.

the redhead leaned close to you and nothing stopped your hand from craddling her hip when one of hers slowly ran up your arm.

"mazelinka's probably waiting for the ship's speed."

portia hummed, her fingers coming to brush the tiny hairs at the nape of your neck. your other hand coming to rest on her hip as portia brought you a little closer.

she leaned in, her nose brushing yours and eyes becoming lidded. the heat coming from her body was making you slowly lose your train of thought.

it was as if each other's presence was getting you drunk. it was as if her being this close and confined to a room with her was turning your mind to mush.

"we.. we should.. we should p-probably—" your words died on your tongue when her lips brushed yours.

something in the both of you snapped because one minute you were kissing her and another she was tugging you into a heated kiss that made your toes curl inside your boots.

portia tugged you back so she was perched on mazelinka's desk. mazelinka's desk.

you sharply tugged back, stumbling into the chair behind you and onto your bottom. the redhead was still leaning on the desk, gripping it's edge as she too tried to get ahold of herself.

"it's nice to meet you," you hastily waved from where you sat on the floor. "my name is actually y/n l/n. i go by y/n, it's a name that caught on growing up."

portia gave a soft smile, "i'm portia. pasha is my actual name. it's nice to meet you, too."

there was a silence before you decided to stand and pull up the damp knot hanging from mazelinka's window.

"so do you kiss everyone you meet or just me?"

if you hadn't been turned around, you would've seen portia's face as bright as the hair on her head.

"you're an exception." portia nervously laughed, scratching the back of her head and moved so you could write down your findings. "it's not every day that you meet mazelinka will shamelessly appraise."

you smiled when you saw portia watching from over your shoulder while the compass in your hand dragged across the map.

"likewise." you couldn't help your smirk as you fought to keep the dominant edge that kept portia blushing. "it's not every day that i meet mazelinka's esteemed company. she talks highly of you."

"i'd hope so, even though i can't balance fruit on every limb." you couldn't help, but laugh at her remark. shaking your head as she eyed a couple pages. "what do all these numbers mean?"

"math, love." you sighed, motioning to the pins that marked distances on the map. "that knot hanging off the ship determines our speed and i need to estimate where we are. given time and speed, i need to estimate when to adjust our sails so we miss any troublesome mercenaries when we arrive at midway."

at some point while you were talking, portia had taken it upon herself to pry the drawing compass from your hand. "they don't teach this in schools."

"of course not. no one teaches you the necessary knowledge on how to avoid mercenaries or how to properly man a ship of this size."

"then teach me." she stared up at you with pleading eyes and you sighed, unable to keep yourself from giving in to that smile.

in the ten minutes you'd explained to portia how to navigate with a drawing compass and the correct formula to use when calculating speed and time, she managed to grasp it.

"why do you have so many steps for something so simple?" she asked motioning to the scribbles of numbers that portia had written down.

"the long way doesn't require you to check your work." you motioned to a blank piece of paper, "the hardest part about this job is neatly logging the work down for future reference."

portia's jaw dropped and you couldn't help but laugh then. "the entire process would take at least an hour to complete."

"when you're experienced, you only need about twenty minutes." you waved around a paper making portia light up and eagerly look over the work neatly splayed on the paper. "could you give those to mazelinka?"

"sure thing!" portia was practically skipping for the door when you stopped her short.

"portia?" her pretty blue eyes found yours. "you're the exception. i don't go around kissing beautiful nevivion girls. just you."

portia's lips quirked up and she waved to you before leaving you alone in mazelinka's study with your thoughts.

beautiful and smart. who could've guessed you'd fallen for mazelinka's company?

by the time you had come back on the deck it was dark out. you weren't surprised to see someone from mazelinka's trusted circle of friend's guiding the ship away from the small island mazelinka called our midway point. but you were shocked to see portia still up.

"can't sleep?" you called making her spin around to look at you.

she smiled and turned her gaze up to the many constellations in the sky.

"i've never seen this many stars out." portia sighed, watching the stars in the horizon.

you noticed the stars were a bit off until you called up to the person behind the helm, "you're a little off, go a couple knots starboard."

"what does that mean?" portia asked as the ship turned in the slightest.

"we were going at the wrong angle." you told her, motioning to orion's belt, "we are supposed to go along that constellation's middle, not toward's it."

"i've heard of using stars like the north star." portia beamed, looking up to the sky again. "you use them for navigation?"

"something like that." you forced out a laugh as you turned your gaze to the water, unable to help scraping your fingernails against the grain of wood upon seeing portia's smile again.

"i'll never get used to that."

"used to the sky?" portia smiled, turning her gaze to the visible galaxies that beamed purples and blues with the lack of moonlight.

"that smile of yours."

portia flushed and she turned her eyes down the water, "you're not too bad yourself," came her shaky response. a confidence made her straighten and lean towards you, "do i make you nervous, too?"

"not in the slightest." you hummed, leaning on the rail and staring down at the water that swirled with the star light.

portia motioned to your white knuckles that squeezed the railing. you tucked your shaking hands behind your back with a shy smile.

"maybe a little.."

it was portia's turn to laugh. she leaned into you and despite how your heart was pounding for you to look away, but her eyes.

"not everyone takes well to a lively disposition on the open ocean."

she seemed to slump, but you couldn't help smiling as you take in her appearance.

the galaxy seemed to swirl in her blue eyes, promise of a warmth that not even the sun could provide. you shook your head, cupping her face in your hands and stroking the apple of portia's cheeks.

"but you're the exception."