#i swear i'm going to finish some of these outstanding wips and prompts and everything next year....

[katnissdoesnotfollowback]

👀

end of year WIP meme!

send me a 👀 and i’ll post a snippet of art/writing that i never got around to finishing this year (r.i.p)

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Thanks @madelion82! This is from one of the many, many *hangs head in shame* @everlarkficexchange prompts that I’ve collected over the years. I had every intention of finishing this one, but then I didn’t. Sigh. The prompt is from the 2019 exchange, so I’m gonna claim that I got completely distracted by Unmasked. haha. Anyways, I made some real progress on it this year, outlined and ideas all sort of squared away, but just couldn’t get it all written. The prompt is: Everlark friends, one is a writer of romance or smut (novels, fanfiction, whatever) and uses the other as inspiration. What happens when they find out?

This one’s near the top of my priority list for 2021.

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Pounding on my door makes me scream and my pulse spike. I pant and stare at the surface.

“Katniss!” He shouts and I close my eyes to catch my breath while he pounds some more. “You aren’t answering any texts. If you don’t answer the door, I’m using my keys. Fair warning!”

“I… I fell asleep,” I say and stumble to the door, unlocking and then flinging it open to reveal my best friend in the whole world, who is mercifully completely dressed. His hair may be slightly messed up, but it’s no more than what the wind would do to it on his way over. He’s also carrying a grocery sack.

“You scared me,” Peeta accuses. “The only reason you ever ignore my texts is if you’re dead or Effie isn’t happy.”

“Remind me when the last time was that I died?” He scowls at me then and I think for a brief moment that as often as he teases me for my signature scowls, he’s packing a few killer looks of his own behind those baby blues.

“I brought ice cream,” he says instead of responding to my quip and shoves the grocery sack into my torso.

I don’t know what comes over me, but I fling my arms around him, trapping the ice cream between us.

“Whoa.”

“Thank you,” I mumble into the side of his neck. I take a deep breath and then melt against him as his one arm wraps around me.

“Was Effie that harsh?” he asks, his voice now soft as silk, only making me melt further into his embrace. His hand gently rubs my back.

“No, she was just honest.”

“Okay, well. It can still be fixed then, so let’s get you working. I’ll serve up the ice cream. Let me go before it melts all over us.”

At this point, I couldn’t care less if it did. I’m just elated that he’s here and not wrapped up with bedazzled jeans Barbie. Still, something about what he said niggles at me.

“There might’ve been another reason I didn’t answer your texts,” I hedge as he plucks the grocery bag back out of my arms and leads the way into my kitchen.

“Oh?” He sets the bag on the counter and opens a cabinet. The right cabinet for my ice cream bowls. I scowl, not sure if I’m annoyed that he knows his way around my kitchen like it’s his own or that he’s being dense.

“I might’ve had a man over,” I say and even I can tell it’s petulant. He snorts and I outright glare instead of scowl.

“You don’t do random hookups. Guys have to pass an FBI background check, the friend check, the sister check, and then some kind of weird and rigorous personal checklist I swear you have locked up in your diary somewhere before you’ll sleep with him.”

“So? There’s nothing wrong with having high standards. Or being careful with your heart,” I snap as he scoops out the ice cream. “Hot fudge.”

“I’m working on it. I haven’t forgotten how you like it,” he says, ignoring my snippy tone. “So, since Johanna was pestering you only two days ago about getting laid, I think it’s safe to assume that you would not yet have a man…”

He trails off and smiles at me as my scowl deepens. “Oh wow. Hold on.”

Before I can blink, he’s got his phone out and has snapped a picture of me. “That’s gotta be the Katnissiest scowl I’ve ever seen.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” I ask and grab one bowl, only for him to snatch it back.

“Hot fudge,” he reminds me and turns to get it out of the fridge. “It means I’m using that as your profile pic on my phone from now on.”

“You’re lucky you came with ice cream,” I mutter.