#sure i have to go look for the feels behind Katniss being blind as a bat

[ticklishraspberries]

Neck Kisses (Katniss/Peeta)

Summary: Peeta gives Katniss kisses over the years. (Week #4 of @august-anon's Tickletober prompts!! I've never written a Hunger Games fic before so let me know if y'all like it and/or want to see more!!)

The lights are blinding, and Katniss is struggling to keep that fake smile on her face. They’ve been standing, taking photos, being gawked at for what has felt like years.

Cinna has dressed her in gold. Peeta’s suit matches perfectly. He does look handsome, but she isn’t sure the color really does him any favors: The shimmer pops on her skin tone, compliments her dark hair and eyes, but Peeta’s pale and blonde and would probably suit silver more, she thinks. Not that she knows anything about fashion, nor does she care about how Peeta dresses. She only cares about how he’ll fight in the arena, and how his hand around her waist right now is really irritating. She wants nothing more than to shrug him off, to roll her eyes right at those cameras, to take all the stupid pins out of her hair.

Instead, she just stands and tries to look pretty.

Peeta’s head moves in her peripheral vision and she shoots him a confused glance, and then twitches when he presses a gentle kiss to her shoulder where the dress has left her skin exposed. No one has ever kissed her there, and goosebumps immediately spread over her skin. It doesn’t feel bad, but she still digs her elbow into his side in retaliation anyway, because he could have at least warned her that he and Haymitch were upping the affection quota.

When they’re finally free from the cameras and lights, and Katniss has shed most of her ridiculous outfit, Peeta comes and sits beside her, away from prying eyes.

“Sorry I kissed your shoulder,” he says, avoiding her eyes. “Haymitch and Effie have been trying to get me to…sell this whole love story thing. I should have asked you if that was okay first, I just had the idea in the moment and went for it.”

Katniss looks him up and down, the shyness in his body language and the genuinity in his tone, and her hard expression softens just a little. “It’s fine. Just…warn me next time.”

He nods, offering her a little smile. Then, after a moment of comfortable silence, he asks: “Did it tickle?”

“What?”

“When I kissed you. It seemed like it tickled.”

Katniss does roll her eyes now, ignoring the way her face feels suddenly warm under his scrutiny. “No, it just felt weird. And I wasn’t expecting it.”

Peeta has this stupid smile on his face that makes Katniss want to punch him. But, there are rules about tributes fighting, and she also doesn’t think she could really hurt him when he looks so innocent, so…She huffs and gets to her feet.

“So, you aren’t ticklish? I just think if we’re going to be allies, I should know your weaknesses, you know?” Peeta says, and he’s fully grinning now.

“Goodnight, Peeta,” she replies, refusing to turn back and let him see the way her lips have started to curl. Watching him try to find the light, the humor in this all, to get to know her even though it’s probable he will have to kill her…Well, those thoughts dampen her mood quite quickly.

The truth is, she is ticklish. Most of her experience with tickling has been her tickling Prim, and sometimes Gale tickling her, but she always fights him tooth and nail when he does it. He’s usually all rough hands squeezing her sides and scribbling behind her knees. What Peeta had done was different, it was gentle and made her stomach flutter…She supposes it would have felt nice, if they had been alone, and she had known he was going to do it, and could have prepared.

She falls asleep trying to ignore the little voice in her mind that wants him to do it again.

***

The sound of birds chirping outside the window is what wakes her.

Katniss blinks against the sunshine seeping into the room, and settles comfortably into Peeta’s arms that are wrapped around her waist. The morning is still, the children still sleeping instead of climbing into their bed with excited babbling as they do most mornings.

Peeta begins to stir beside her, and Katniss finds herself smiling as he nuzzles his face into the crook of her neck. “Morning,” he mumbles.

“Morning,” she replies softly.

Peeta’s lips press a soft kiss to the skin of her shoulder, and then continues to pepper those little kisses up to her jaw and back down again. She’s giggling in seconds, having been unprepared for such antics so early. She’s still stubborn as she was as a scrappy teenager in the Seam, and normally when Peeta tickles her, she holds her laughter in and fights back, turning the tables or running off into the grass. She doesn’t have that chance now, lovingly encased in his arms and still too sleepy to launch an escape plan.

She doesn’t even remember the first time he pressed his lips there, back before the first Games, on that stage with the blinding lights. That feels lifetimes away, has been buried under much worse memories, forgotten. They are making new memories now, better ones.

“Peeta, we’ll wake them,” she says, trying to keep her giggling to a low volume.

Peeta just grins. “They’ll be up soon anyway.”

And with that, he starts tickling her belly with ten fast fingers, and Katniss has no choice but to dissolve into laughter. It isn’t long until the children are roused by the sound, curious as to what their mama could be finding so funny.

Now, she starts her day with genuine smiles, laughter, and love.

[danisbrainrot]

reader calming down johanna during quarter quell and the others are like wtf

johanna mason x reader

the thick hot blood had you blind, choking and running around like headless chickens. johanna screamed, her hand reaching out for yours; your hands were already full, unfortunately. between your large knife and wiress' hand, you couldn't console johanna as she grew more panicked.

she grabbed the back of beetee's neck, dragging him through the forest, while you held tightly onto wiress and ran. the blood wasn't slowing down, instead pouring even harder.

suddenly, you heard the screams of johanna's district partner and turned around. you and johanna began calling for him—you even turned around and tried to follow the direction the sound had come from; after a minute of silence, everyone heard the sound of a cannon and jumped out of their skin. he was gone forever.

the group of four finally made it to the beach, you snapped your head to the sound of someone running up to you and calling out your name. still running on adrenaline, you held out your sword—ready to swing—before realising that it was finnick as he shouts, "johanna!"

"finnick!" she cried, you both lowered your weapons before she ran up to greet him. sheathing your sword, you swiftly made your way to johanna's side, hugging finnick tightly; you were glad to see another person you could consider your ally.

you spot katniss and peeta hiding in the trees; noticing the absence of mags, your heart sinks as you realise that one of the cannons you'd heard from before must have been hers.

the moment of relief passes when finnick was joined by the two figures who were hiding in the foliage, "rain started. thought it was water at first. turned out to be blood. thick and hot. we were choking, staggering around blind," johanna answers, talking quickly, "that's when blight hit the force field," she shakes her head, trying to hold the tears back. "he wasn't much, but he was from home."

you reach out for her hand, and she looks down at it at first, before sighing softly and taking it—she offers you a weak nod.

"what's wrong with her?" katniss asked, nodding at wiress. you shrug, looking over your shoulder to see the woman mumbling something to herself.

"she's in shock. dehydration isn't helping," betee replies, taking his glasses off to clean them.

johanna looks behind her, yelling at wiress, frustration evident on her face, when katniss shoves her to get her to stop. "hey!" johanna cried, shoving her back, "I got her out for you!" your eyes widen as you realise what johanna was saying.

you grab her by the arm, softly dragging her to the water. she grumbles, wanting to swing at katniss, but you sigh and shake your head. "you know what she means. you can't just hit her because she's annoying," you explain, wincing at the cool feeling of the water.

you only went to your waist, before dunking your head underwater and scrubbing the blood off your body. johanna does the same, mirroring your movements. as she washes out her hair, you pull her into a soft embrace, nuzzling your face into her neck and sighing. "this is so unfair," you mumble.

she hums in agreement, tentatively placing an arm around your waist and pulling you in closer. she hated being affectionate in public—she felt weak and vulnerable knowing that snow would target you next if he knew. she supposed it didn't matter much anymore; you either both died in the arena or you ended up in district 13—and johanna was going to make sure that you made it out of the arena alive.

katniss nods to where the two of you were standing, "what's going on with them?" she asks finnick.

he sighs and shakes his head. "you and peeta aren't the only star crossed lovers forced to compete against each other," he replies, digging his trident in the sand.

"but they're from different districts," katniss states, hoping for further clarification. peeta also looks up, squinting at finnick as he waits for finnick's answer.

finnick snorts, betee and wiress also smirk knowingly at each other. "doesn't matter to them, they make it work," his hand shields his eyes from the blaring sun, as he watches the two of you kiss passionately in the water.

it was such an intimate moment, that they all turn away and talk about something else, hoping to give the couple privacy—well, as much privacy as you can for someone being constantly filmed for the capitol's entertainment.

[brella]

Peeta pov "She came here with me." ? or him planting the Primrose for her. ?

Haymitch had thought, at first, that he was joking. Peeta can hardly blame him. Who with half a brain would expect the truth from a Tribute? Joke or fable or bald-faced lie, it’s all the same—a good story on Caesar Flickerman’s show is the surest way to get sponsors. Only, Peeta could come up with better stories, and better lies besides, than being in love with Katniss Everdeen.

You’re a good showman, I’ll give you that, Haymitch had said, once he realized that Peeta was serious.

Peeta’s skin had crawled under the soft lighting in the suite. Making a show of what he felt for Katniss seemed immoral, somehow. It was meant to be a whisper under an oak tree, shaking hands and secret wants—not a tool, not a spectacle. Then again, he knows he’d never have the nerve to say it to her face. On live television, to an indifferent Panem, is much less frightening. And even though it’s sooner than later that he’s six feet under (as the old song goes), he doesn’t want that secret to be buried with him.

So: a show it is.

Caesar is almost blinding to look at in person. His immaculate wig, his sun-white teeth, his spray-tan and the baubles on his suit: Capitol excess incarnate. But he’s easy to talk to. Most people are when you’ve got years at the register under your belt, when saying the right thing to your mother could spare you a bruise—Caesar, though, is something else entirely; he’s got a kind of charisma that could stop Death itself for a minute or two. Peeta can’t help but study him. Everything is measured, everything has value: timing, cadence, eye contact. It’s easier to mirror than Peeta expects.

“Tell me,” Caesar says, once the pleasantries and banter have run their course. “Is there a special girl back home?”

Even though just about every Tribute, every Games, gets that question from Caesar, Peeta has to wonder if Haymitch had pulled some strings. His pulse quickens with anticipation, but he keeps his cool. Be coy. Build suspense.

“Nah,” he says, slipping in a little of a District 12 drawl. It makes for a bashful tone. “Not really.”

He has to make it obvious he’s fibbing, but not too obvious. He ducks his eyes, focusing on the tips of his shoes. Patent leather. Probably cost enough to feed a family. Have other Tributes worn these? Surely the cost would make it impractical not to reuse them.

“No? I don’t believe it for a second! Look at that face!” Caesar exclaims. “Handsome man like you…”

Oh, Peeta thinks. So I’m a man now.

“Peeta.” Caesar leans in, so congenial, so inviting. Behind his charming eyes, though, Peeta sees nothing. Nothing to recognize or remember. “Tell me.”

Now is the time. Make them ask you twice before you answer. Peeta can feel the audience’s attention, swelling in the room, almost symphonic.

“Well, there, uh…” He pauses, gathering his guts. That’s where the best acting comes from, he’s found: truth. “There is this one girl that… I’ve had a crush on forever.”

Crush—so half-baked, flourless—but he knows the Capitol will eat it up. Sure enough, Caesar nods his head, eyes twinkling.

“But,” Peeta goes on, “I don’t think she actually… recognized me until the Reaping.”

That, too, is the truth. Why should Katniss remember him at all? She had lived—she had not died. That was all that mattered. What she remembered from that rainy day, he expected, was the hunger—a kind of hunger he had never had to know.

What he remembers is her face—clearer than his mother’s fists, clearer than the pain.

Clearer than any pain in the world.

“Well, I’ll tell you what, Peeta,” Caesar says—almost encouraging, like an uncle giving advice to his favorite nephew. It’s the first time in the interview that Peeta has felt genuinely, truly sick. “You go out there, and you win this thing—and when you get home? She’ll have to go out with you.” He turns back to the audience, drawn by the sound of applause. “Right, folks?!”

There’s that laugh of his: brassy, gleaming, perfectly rhythmic and perfectly pitched. Peeta’s body wants to laugh along, purely on instinct. He lets a fraction of it through. Just a fraction.

“Thanks, but, uh… I don’t think winning’s gonna help me at all.”

“And why not?”

Here. Right here. Peeta’s breath shakes on its way out of him, hollow at the center. How to answer? How to explain to Caesar Flickerman, to the glittering Capitol, to the Districts who couldn’t give a damn about him—how to explain Katniss Everdeen’s braid in the sunlight on the walk to school, the gentle clarity with which she’d sung the Valley Song, the sight of her and Gale Hawthorne and their pocket-knife-smiles in the schoolyard, the devotion that she had to her sister, the calluses along her fingers from a bowstring—how to make them understand the constant, quiet heat of her, and all the winters of life through which it had kept him warm?

This is the time to be exact. A sound bite is worth a thousand speeches. If you’re gonna do it, Haymitch had said, with a kind of cutthroat pride, do it so it breaks their hearts.

“Because she came here with me,” Peeta says.

[ellanainthetardis]

Something I love about the 74th Reaping: 

Sure you can take it straight as Katniss tells us and conclude Effie is just a bubbly dumb empty-headed drone and Haymitch is just a drunkard who’s “disgusting” and pathetic but... If you read between the lines... 

I don’t think Effie is flustered because she doesn’t know what the protocol is for a volunteer or because she doesn’t know what to do. I think she is flustered because she’s really good at reading situations and she can feel the situation is about to slip out of control (and Haymitch is drunk, which means she’s on her own because I don’t think she would trust the mayor to help and she’s responsible for the Reaping going smoothly probably since she’s the Capitol representative here) which is why she reaaaally goes slick on the bubbly cheerful act. To me, she doesn’t read cheerful, really, she reads a little panicked. She’s good at reading the room and 12′s audience isn’t exactly supportive or happy. 

As for Haymitch, he only steps forward and makes a big spectacle of himself when the tension is at its paroxysm and everyone in 12 is doing the fingers salute, refusing to applaud, being very quietly rebellious... He steals the spotlight from Katniss, makes it all about himself, brings the eyes on him, goes as far as attacking the Capitol by pointing straight at the camera... And then promptly falls off the stage, breaking the tension off, making himself the comic relief, turning himself into the joke victor of Twelve, offering the perfect distraction for Effie to spring the rest of the Reaping along... Even drunk, he knows it’s too dangerous and Katniss is going to be in the Capitol’s bulleye if this goes on too far... I’m so 100% sure he did all of that on purpose... 

So, yeah... One interpretation is to take the text as literal but, honestly, you can’t convince me that it wasn’t Effie and Haymitch playing the games, doing what they do best, being a team. 

No this post had no other point than gushing over my favorite characters...

And we’re not even talking about how the first thing haymitch does when he goes on stage all confused (probably because he was dragged there by peacekeepers instead of his escort) is to hug effie like it makes perfect sense to his confused drunk brain. “a big hug”, Katniss says. I say it must have been a hell of a hug to tilt that wig to the point she has to hold on to it later XD Oh the lectures that must be happening off stage later on... 

[jlalafics]

“Operator”-an Everlark Ficlet

For @mrspeetamellark, who wanted “Peeta’s dirty filthy sex talk”. Enjoy!

Katniss couldn’t believe she was doing this.

Delly had convinced her that this would broaden her horizons.

Apparently, that’s what she needed after a dumping such as hers.

Her year-long relationship with Cato had ended with a bitter fight and him telling her that she was bore in the bedroom. Then, he promptly informed her that he was moving out of their apartment to shack up with Clove, a little beast of a woman who had clawed her way up into Cato’s penis.

That was fine. The relationship had been going downhill months ago.

However, this was kind of a new low for her.

She went to the mirror in the corner of her bedroom, looking at her reflection and wondering if the black nightie was necessary.

Then, pouring a glass of wine from the bottle on her bedside table, Katniss pulled out a card with the scantily clad man on it and dialed the number.

It rang a twice.

She told herself she would hang up on the third, when someone suddenly picked up the line.

“Hello?” came a smooth, deep voice.

“Hi,” she croaked out nervously. “This is stupid.”

The man on the phone chuckled. “I hope not. It’s how I make a living.”

“Oh hell—I’m sorry!” Katniss slap her palm to her forehead. “I’ve never done this before, but my friend suggested it as a way to help me discover ‘my sexual goddess’—whatever the fuck that means.”

“Sounds like you’ve been going through something,” the man replied. “Want to tell me about it?”

“I’ve been living with my ex for a year and he just dumped me for a girl who will let him put it anywhere he wants.”

“Ouch. Sounds like a real charmer.”

“You bet,” she responded wryly. “I’m not too sad about it. I’m more insulted that he thought I was boring in bed. I mean, I would’ve let him put it anywhere, but some foreplay would’ve been nice. Also, being completely silent while I’m pulling out the big guns didn’t help.”

“Some guys expect women to just automatically go for anything,” the man said. “But I find that, in healthy sexual relationships, there has to be an equal amount of give and take.”

“Exactly!” Katniss took a sip from her glass and sat back against the pillows of her bed. “You seem like a decent person. Why are you working on a phone sex line?”

“Because I enjoy it,” he told her simply. “Also, this is just an evening job.”

“So, it’s like a stripper at night and paralegal by day kind of thing,” she replied.

The man chuckled. “Kind of. I have a pretty standard office job.”

“Me, too.” Katniss took another sip, her nerves beginning to relax. “So, how do we do this?”

“Let’s start with your name,” he told her.

“Katniss.”

“Katniss,” he repeated.

His voice tightened at the last bit of her name and she straightened at the change of tone.

“Is there something wrong?”

“No, it’s just a very different name,” the man said. “But very pretty. I think I’m going to like saying it into your ear as you come.”

Her nipples immediately tightened at his words. “Oh yeah?”

“Yes.” He laughed roughly. “What pretty little thing are you wearing for me?”

“I knew you were going to ask that, at some point.” Katniss fingered the strap of her nightie. “I’m wearing a black nightie with lace along the top.”

“Sounds lovely,” the man replied. “Tell me; do you feel uncomfortable taking instructions?”

“Depends.” She smiled into receiver. “What are you going to tell me to do?”

“Give me a name,” he told her. “A name that means something to you. A name that turns you on. But I don’t want you to say it until you come.”

“Alright,” she agreed.

There was only one name that Katniss wanted to say.

He, however, was unattainable.

“Close your eyes.” His voice was low, and the timbre instantly electrified her…down there. “I can tell that you’re analyzing every single part of this call…what I must be thinking about you…what I look like—am I right?”

Katniss giggled. “Exactly.” She sighed and closed her eyes. “I closed them.”

“I think that you’re a brave woman who’s taking control of her sexual life.” The man breathed against the receiver and Katniss shivered imagining his warm breath against her ear. “I’m blond, average height, with blue eyes. Imagine me in your mind.”

Katniss took a deep breath, the image of a man forming in her head. She saw him, undoing her favorite red tie, removing his black loafers, before lying next to her.

“I’m playing with the strap of your gown, Katniss…what were you doing before I came home?”

“Drinking wine…imagining what we would be doing once you got home,” she stuttered out. “I’m not good at this.”

“You were doing beautifully,” he assured her. “The tone of your voice…low…grounded…I bet you growl when you’re turned on…and I'd love to make you growl…”

Katniss felt the gush as her core pulsed at his words. She had foregone underwear and could see her arousal gleaming on her inner thighs.

“While you were waiting for me, did you touch yourself?”

Her fingers traced along the opening of her gown. “Yes…”

“Oh fuck—” He groaned into the receiver and the sound traveled straight to her cunt. “I’ve been thinking about you all day. Just thinking about coming home to you made me hard—” There was a grunt on her speaker, and she gasped at the image of him, cock straining through the zipper of his pants. “I had to close the door to my office and stroke myself to the thought of you…”

Katniss mewled into the phone, her hand traveling down between her legs as the other massaged her breast.

“God…”

“That’s right, sweetheart,” he rumbled on the line. “I’m kneeling in front of you, open your cunt for me—”

“What?”

“Take those pretty little fingers of yours and use them to spread your labia, Katniss. I want to see that lovely hole…the one that I’m going to stick my fingers…then my tongue…and finally my cock—”

Behind her eyes, Katniss imagined this mystery man kneeling before her and using her index and middle finger, spread her outer lips apart to his hungry eyes.

“Mmmm…more…” She groaned into the phone. “I want more…please…”

“I got you—” Katniss could hear shifting and wondered if she was actually turning this stranger on. “You’re so wet for me, Katniss. I bet you taste delicious...go on…taste yourself.”

Losing herself in his voice, she lifted her hand to her mouth and stuck her fingers in her mouth.

“I can hear you sucking on your fingers.” He sounded desperate. “What do you taste like?”

She moved her fingers from her lips. “Light…but musky…”

The man moaned into the receiver. “Do you want to fuck me?”

“Yes,” she growled. “I need you inside me.”

Her fingers went back to drenched core, moving along her inner lips, and dancing along her entrance.

“Undo my belt,” he commanded. “I can’t wait anymore, Katniss. I want you to pull out my cock. I want you to rub your cunt against my pants so every time I wear them, I can remember my dick ramming into that soaked hole of yours—fuck!”

Katniss took her fingers, plunging them straight into her core. “UH!” She lost herself in the motion, her hips jerking as she fucked herself—or in her mind, he fucked her—into oblivion. “I’m going to come…”

“Me too, baby,” he moaned. “Touch your clit, make yourself come for me, Katniss…”

Her hand went to her pearl, circling the peaked nerve, and she felt the crest of her climax in sight.

“Don’t forget…” he demanded. “Say my name…say my name when you come—”

Her whole body arched, tensing, before she crashed, and her hips bucked as the white-hot pleasure blinded her.

“FUCK—PEETA!”

She could hear his ragged breaths as her hips landed back on her mattress.

“Oh God…that was amazing.”

“You are amazing,” he breathed, almost tenderly.

“Thank you,” she whispered into the phone. “I thought that maybe my ex was right—that I was a horrible lay. But it wasn’t me. He just never inspired me…or made me want…you did.”

“Katniss?”

Her eyes opened slowly. “Yes?”

“It’s me—” He took a deep breath. “Peeta.”

She snorted. “Yeah, sure.”

“Today is your 25th birthday.” Katniss shot up at his words. “Your office gave you a cake—chocolate with strawberries on top and almonds sprinkled on the sides, along with a bottle of wine.” Her eyes went to the open bottle of pinot. “My office is right across from yours—and I’ve been in love with you since the moment I met you.”

“Peeta…” Her eyes filled. “Two years?”

“Two years,” he confirmed. “Delly told me that you and Cato broke up. I had to take a chance even if it was this.”

“Do you actually work as a phone sex operator?”

“No,” he replied. “Delly made that flier.”

“Damn her and her graphic skills,” she muttered.

“Do you hate me? For lying to you?” Peeta asked carefully. “If you ended up not calling, I was going to ask you out on Monday, but I understand if you never want to speak to me—”

“Peeta.” He stopped. “Would you really do all the things you said over the phone?”

“Fuck yes.”

Katniss laid back against her pillows. She didn’t want to wait till Monday to see him.

So, she told him her address.

FIN.

[always-andshewrites]

Another Way Out - Chapter 2 “Sneak Peek”

Hey guys, I thought I’d give a little sneak peek into Chapter 2.  I am also still looking for a beta/or anyone wanting/willing to pre-read for me.  Just a heads up, so far my chapters have been MASSIVE, coming in at around 13-15,000 words. So any help would be greatly, greatly appreciated!!!  Here  you go....

| Katniss |

“Katniss, Kat, wake up.”  I hear Peeta’s voice before I’m fully awake and slowly open my eyes.  Except when I open my eyes, everything is pitch black and there is something covering my face.  When I reach up to remove whatever is blocking my sight, Peeta gently places his hands reassuringly on top of mine.

 “What the— why can’t I see anything?”  I demand, tensing up at my sudden blindness.

 “Good morning beautiful.” He says, placing a kiss to my cheek and then pulling me into his arms for a moment.

 “It’s a surprise.”  He whispers into my ear with one hand on my back, the other pulling on my arm as he helps me to a sitting position.  I have never been the kind of person that enjoys surprises; I like to know everything.

 “I don’t like being left in the dark; pun intended.” I scowl, unsure if he can see it because of the blindfold that’s covering my face, as well as not knowing how much light is in the room.  I know today is tour day, and who knows what surprises it has in store for me, so I’m not sure I can handle anything extra. Not to mention that the inability to see takes me back to the arena, back to the tornado.  Back to when the gamemaker’s distorted our sight, blinding us all. Back to when they tried to get us to kill each other.

 “You’ll like this one, I promise.  Just . . . trust me.  You do trust me, right?”

 “You know I do.”  I tell him, fighting the smile that is forming on my lips. 

 “What time is it anyway?”  I ask as Peeta guides me through the house and down the stairs.  With the blindfold securely over my eyes, Peeta has helped me get dressed.  Once it became clear that the blindfold was more trouble than it was worth, Peeta finally allowed me to remove it, but only in the bathroom. 

 Thankful for the absence of the blindfold, I take my time in the bathroom.  I do my business, wash my hands and face and then brush my teeth.  All the while, wondering what Peeta has up his sleeve.  As soon as I open the door, Peeta is waiting for me with that damn blindfold in his hand.  He secures it around my eyes, folding it in a knot at the back of my head.

 “Is this really necessary?” I snap at him, scowling once more.

 “Katniss, I promise you’re going to love it.” He trills.  How someone can be so chipper this early in the morning is beyond me.

 “What time is it anyway?”  I ask, conceding to the fact that he intends to keep me blind until he shows me this “surprise.”

 “Really early.  Sun’s not even up yet.”  He informs me, helping me get my jacket and boots on and then leads us out the door. 

 Peeta interlocks our arms together once we pass through the front door, never releasing me from his grip.  Together, we stomp through the foot of snow that covers the ground, making our way to Peeta’s surprise. Using my remaining senses, I intuit that we are headed into the woods.  Or maybe it’s the meadow, I can’t be certain without my sight.

 Finally, after what feels like an hour of walking through the snow, Peeta pulls me backwards into his arms and gently removes the blindfold.  Even though I complained about not being able to see from the moment I woke up, I keep my eyes closed for another moment, inhaling the sounds of mother nature.  I pick up the sounds of tree branches scraping against each other from the force of the wind; the scampering of chipmunks racing up a tree as they hop from one spot to another.  I hear the symphony of birds chirping their morning melody, signaling the start of a new day.  The mockingjay’s are not far away, mimicking the bird’s song, and then there is something else that is slightly out of place.  Something that is not of mother nature’s doing.  It sounds like . . . like the crackling of a fire?

 The anticipation is driving me mad, so I slowly open one eye, and sure enough we are in a small clearing in the meadow, surrounded by trees.  Peeta has prepared a picnic, surrounding us in my favorite things.  Trees, nature and him.  

 The entire district is covered in a blanket of white, minus this one tiny spot in front of me where Peeta has shoveled the snow into a heaping pile.  He must have done this days ago, allowing the sun to soak up any remnants that he was unable to scrape away because the ground isn’t even wet.

 There is a blanket spread on the ground for us to sit on, as well as an additional blanket to cover up with.  Less than a foot away, he has built a small fire to keep us warm, which means he must have woken up hours ago, made the trek out here to start the fire and then walked all the way back home to wake me up and bring me out here.  Now, I feel guilty for giving him such a hard time this morning. 

 I turn around to face him, my eyes filled with tears at his thoughtfulness and wrap my arms around his neck.  “PEETA!  When did you— how did— oh my god Peeta, this is incredible, it’s just . . . it’s amazing!”  My mind is blown at his creativity, at his thoughtfulness.  He has transformed a day I have been dreading for months into something . . . better.  No matter what happens for the rest of the day, I will always remember the incredible way it began.

 “I just thought it would be nice for us to get away from everything.  You know, spend a quiet day in the meadow, with just the two of us before we are bombarded by our prep teams and . . . everything.” His cheeks pinken, and from the way he’s looking at the ground I know it has nothing to do with the frigid temperatures. A smile forms on my lips at the thought of a bashful Peeta. 

 He kneels onto the blanket, lifting the lid to the picnic basket and pulls out a plate and two cups.  Then he looks up at me, extending his arm, his eyes twinkling with the setting moon.  “Come have some breakfast with me.”  He urges, inviting me down to him.

 He doesn’t have to ask me twice as I drop down next to him, joining him on the blanket.  We feast on all my favorites; strawberries, oranges, and somehow, he even managed to acquire some grapes.  Where did he even get all of this from; and better yet, when?  I have to give him credit, I never knew he could be so duplicitous.

 I wonder if all the secret phone calls with Effie was actually him scheming to create this perfect date for us.  Normally, he orders what we need from our local grocer; I know it’s only to give him business, but all this food . . . it couldn’t have come from anywhere but the Capitol.

 “Oh my gosh Peeta, this is delicious!”  I moan with a mouthful of oranges, sighing with pleasure from the tart, juicy fruit in my mouth.  His eyes meet mine and they darken slightly, before a mischievous glint appears in his eye.  Maybe it’s not mischievous, but more like . . . seductive. Whatever it is, I like it.

 Before I know it, he pounces on top of me, pinning me to the ground.  He intertwines his fingers with mine; trapping my hands above my head.  He leans down to kiss me, dipping his tongue into my mouth.

 “Mmm . . . you’re right.  Mouthwatering—” He says, suckling on my lower lip, “Scrumptious, absolutely—” He leans down again, giving me another kiss, “—insatiable—” Forgetting altogether about the delectable food, I lock my arms around his neck and savor his lips.  Vulnerable to my kisses, I wait for the perfect moment to flip us over so that he is the one pinned to the ground.  Straddling his hips, I never break our connection and cherish this moment, wishing with all my might it never had to end.

 Finally, we come up for air, never breaking our gaze.  The love in Peeta’s eyes is so prevalent, I think I could stare into his striking blue eyes for the rest of time and be completely satiated.  His hand reaches up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind my ear.  “I love you Katniss.”  He tells me with so much sentiment that I can literally feel the love emanating from his pores.  It is in this moment that I know; without a doubt how absolutely, completely, irrevocably I am in love with this boy.

 His eyes sparkle under the moonlight when he looks at me.  Looking at me, no— into me, as if he has a direct link into my soul. He looks at me like I am the most beautiful thing in the world to him and I love it.

 Eventually, I slide off his hips and curl my body next to his.  I rest my head on his chest, listening to the steady sound of his thrumming heart.  It is the sound I fall asleep to each night and it quite possibly could be my most favorite sound in the world.

 We lie here for a while, watching the miracle of another sunrise bleed its beautiful array of colors into the sky, as it does every other day.  Except today is not like the others, today is tour day.

 A shudder runs through me when I suddenly get a flashback of the other night.  When Peeta and I were kissing, and it just wasn’t enough anymore.  My conversation with Madge comes to the forefront of my mind when I remember the want I felt.  

 Peeta and I wanted— no, we needed more as we explored each other’s body’s more intricately than we ever have before. There was a time when simply being in Peeta’s arms and kissing each other was enough, but now; I always feel like I need more.  It’s like no matter how close I curl into him, no matter how much of our skin is touching, it’s just never enough.  I think about needing him inside of me, wondering if that would be enough.  Would it satisfy that hunger?

 I begin lightly trailing my fingertips along Peeta’s abdomen and instantly feel the goosebumps appear on his skin.

 “Stop . . . you know what that does to me.”  He sighs, shivering before he begins to supply me with my own form of torture and begins trailing kisses down my neck until he reaches my collar bone, sending a shiver coursing through me.

 My body is filled with electricity for Peeta which sends my mind back to the last time it felt that way; when Haymitch barged into Peeta’s house and caught us in a compromising position.  I am so glad we are out here alone, with no Haymitch to interrupt us.  Oh god, Haymitch!

 “OH CRAP!  Haymitch!” I yell out, my eyes opening to see the sun perfectly straight up in the sky, meaning it is getting close to noon.

 “You’re kidding, right?  You’re thinking about Haymitch right now?”  Peeta groans, giving me those sad, pathetic eyes and pouting his lip. He reaches out to pull me closer to him.

 “No Peeta,” I begin, removing his hands from underneath my shirt.  “—he said not to let him oversleep.  Come on, we need to go wake him up.”  I sit up, scooting away from Peeta.  I know that if I do not remove myself from his touch, I will be incapable of saying no for long and proceed to button my shirt back up and tame the stray hairs on my head back in place.

 “I um, I’m going to need a minute.”  Peeta tells me, shifting uncomfortable on the ground.

 Embarrassed, I look anywhere else but at Peeta and simply nod.  “Okay, I’m sorry.  I’ll um . . . I’ll start packing up.” I say, thankful for something to do.

 Peeta takes a few deep breaths and then he is by my side, helping me consolidate our remaining food.  We throw some water on the fire and fold the blanket before heading towards Victor’s Village.  While Peeta has mastered walking with his new leg on solid ground, making this trek in the snow is a challenge in itself and it takes us much longer than it normally would to get to Haymitch’s house.

 Once we reach Haymitch’s front door, I brace myself for the putrid stench that normally fills his home.  However, when we enter his house, I am surprised that it smells . . . clean.  Or, well, cleaner than it usually is.  I wonder if he hired someone to help him tidy up since he knows Effie is coming today.  The clock above his stove reads 10:30, meaning we are not as late as I originally thought.  He still has at least an hour before Effie arrives.

 Haymitch is passed out at the kitchen table, as usual.  He is snoring loud enough to rumble the house, and his head is hidden in the crook of his arm.  Most likely, he passed out drunk earlier this morning.  Even twenty-five years after his games, Haymitch still refuses to sleep in the dark.  I probably would too, if I didn’t have Peeta.  He is my light in the darkness.

 “Haymitch, come on.  Wake up Haymitch, it’s time.”  Peeta says, gently nudging our near comatose mentor.  Having been on the other end of waking Haymitch up from an alcohol induced slumber, I don’t even attempt to wake him up.  Instead, I spot an empty cannister and grab it, making my way to the sink.  I turn the faucet on and fill it slightly over halfway, leaving just enough room so that it doesn’t slosh around during the walk back to Haymitch.

 ‘Watch out.’  I tell Peeta, motioning for him to move out of the way.   Slowly creeping next to Haymitch, I dump the entire contents of the cannister onto his head and quickly jump back, bracing myself for his swinging hands that are most likely clutching onto at least one knife.

 “What the hell!  Why am I all wet?”  Haymitch grumbles once he spots Peeta and I in front of him.

 “You said to wake you up; it’s tour day.  Effie will be here in about an hour.”

 “I said to wake me up, not give me pneumonia.” He scoffs, reaching for a towel to pat his face dry.

 “Well, you’re awake now, so mission accomplished.  I suggest you take a bath first—” I say, grabbing Peeta’s hand and making our way to the door.  “—and you might want to clean up a little, you know how she is.”  I finish, slamming the door behind us.

 “I just did!”  I hear him grumble from the other side of the door.

 Peeta and I both look, first to my house, and then to his, not sure which one to go to first.  Once our prep teams arrive, we will be separated until the cameras arrive, a moment I am dreading.  I do not like it when Peeta and I are not together, but I absolutely detest it when we are forced apart.

 However, when we turn our heads to Peeta’s house, there is a sleek, fancy black car that is most certainly from the Capitol camped out in his driveway; making our decision for us.

 Tightening my grip on Peeta’s hand, we sprint over to his house, wondering who our guests are, yet something in my gut says I know exactly who it is.

[everlarkbirthdaygifts]

Happy Birthday, albinokittens300!

Happy Birthday, @albinokittens300​! We hope you’ve got some wonderful things planned for the day, and that you’ll top it all off with some delicious cake! To get your party started right, the lovely @endlessnightlock​ has written a story just for you!

Katniss came to an abrupt halt in the doorway of Peeta’s hospital room. He’s back, she realized, the relief hitting her like a warm gust of wind before she darted into the room. The largest part of her had been sure he would never come out of the Capitol alive. But somehow, despite Snow's promise to break him because of her, he was here.

Peeta's appearance was shocking- his skin littered with bruises, some yellowed with time while others were still fresh black and blue. There were cuts and burn marks visible all over his face, his arms, his legs, even the tops of his shoulders and upper back that presented themselves to her from the edges of the thin hospital gown he wore. He looked painfully thin with little left of the stockiness she'd assumed he would always maintain.

Peeta sat on the edge of the bed, wide awake and shaken. He was surrounded by doctors- one shone a bright light in his eyes while another was checking his pulse. A short, older woman in a lab coat had a hand on his back; she was speaking to him in a low tone. Katniss couldn’t hear what was being said. She wished she knew.

Peeta hadn’t seen her yet but she realized he must’ve been looking- he kept glancing around the room despite the blinding light they insisted on shining in his eyes. "Is she here?” he asked. When he got no immediate answer from the medical staff he spoke again in a frantic tone and his body began to shake. “Where’s Katniss?"

That did it, the desperation in his voice that matched the same feeling in her heart. His pleading tone cracked her wide open.

“Peeta!” she said, her voice shaking.

The doctor with the bright light lowered his instrument to his side when Peeta tried to slide off the side of the bed, placing a restraining arm on him. “Mr. Mellark,” he said urgently, “you must stay still. We need to examine you-“

But the doctor didn’t have a chance to say anything else. He was shoved out of the way in a show of strength that would have surprised Katniss from anyone else in Peeta's condition, just far enough that she stepped around the man and darted into his arms.

“Katniss. Oh, Katniss you’re here," He wrapped his arms around her as she fitted herself against him.

Instead of answering with words, she pressed her lips to his hungrily. His lips were cracked and dry and tremoring beneath hers, his skin cold to the touch as she stroked his face.

Nothing had ever felt better.

He seemed so fragile now for the boy she knew. But she didn't care. He was with her again.

He was safe.

“You’re late,” Katniss finally said, pulling back to look him in the eye.

Peeta shook his head, his gaze searching her face while tears rolled down his cheeks.

Katniss didn't hesitate to wipe the dampness away with the pads of her thumbs. “It’s after midnight,” she whispered around a shaky smile. "You were supposed to meet me at midnight.”

He managed a laugh. "I'm sorry," he said weakly, "I'll do better next time, I promise."

"You'd better."

There was more kissing then. That time it was with more relief and less desperation. A little more ownership like the kiss they'd shared at the lightning tree.

“I missed you so much,” Katniss told him, pulling back enough to catch her breath. Just enough to look at him for a moment, before resting her head in the crook of his body where his shoulder and neck met. She was on the edge of tears she didn’t want Peeta to see. He’d just gotten his own to stop.

Katniss wanted to be strong for him now, the way he had been so many times for her.

She buried her nose in the side of this neck. His skin smelled medicinal, like disinfectant and pain, but underneath those scents that shouldn't be on him, it was just Peeta. She burrowed herself in further.

“I never thought I’d see you again,” he admitted, one hand going into her hair and stroking it a tad too roughly like he wasn’t really in control of himself yet.

She squeezed him tighter.

“Ms. Everdeen,” one of the doctors said, interrupting them.

Her tone was not unkind when she laid a hand on Katniss's shoulder, “we need you to leave the room now so that we can examine Mr. Mellark. I know you are relieved to have him back, as are we all, but you can surely appreciate that he needs medical attention. We need to run some scans to check him for internal damage and do some other testing. He's in very poor condition."

Like I don’t know that, she thought.

“I’m not leaving,” Katniss said, pulling away and looking up at Peeta. “I just got him back."

Panic began to overtake her, and she couldn't help the way her thoughts went back to the time the two of them were separated by the Capitol doctors after the first Games. She'd clawed at the glass door that had separated them then like some kind of wild animal, and the same desperation was forming inside of her now.

“No,” Peeta insisted, “I need her."

Katniss knew what he said was true. She remembered the beach when she’d used the word need about him, but more importantly, at the moment she thought about the reality of now, here in Thirteen.

Peeta did need her to be here with him. There were so many things he was going to have to hear- that his family was gone, that their district was in ruins, that the life they'd always known, even the good things, was gone forever. He couldn't face those things alone. He needed her the same way she needed him.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m his wife,” she said, hoping the medical staff still believed the lie Peeta told to try and keep her out of the 75th Games. Surely they wouldn't turn away his wife?

“Sweetheart...” Haymitch said from behind her. Katniss flinched when she heard his footsteps begin moving towards her like he was going to try and take her away from Peeta.

"You can't make me!" Katniss shook her head like a small child would before a tantrum. “I’m not leaving him. But I promise I won’t cause any trouble. Here,” she said, backing away a little, aware her reputation wasn't one of cooperating with authorities. She stood beside Peeta and threaded their fingers together. “I’ll sit on the other end of the bed or something. I'll stand. I’m just… you don’t understand, you can’t ask me to leave him. We were… we were separated by the Capitol and...”

Peeta put his other hand over hers. “I need her here,” he repeated, his voice shaking, his body trembling harder at the thought of being separated again. "After… everything I've been through, please."

After a moment of studying the pair, the doctor sighed. Maybe he realized what others already knew about the two of them. They were a team, a single unit. “Fine, but we insist on you remaining out of the way Ms. Everdeen. You may sit behind him for now.”

“I will,” she reiterated, dropping his hand just long enough to climb onto the bed behind Peeta before the doctor could change his mind. She tucked her legs up underneath her and made herself as small as possible.

“Peeta, I’m right here,” she reminded him, touching his shoulder before dropping her hand to her side.

At her words, he let out a breath and seemed to relax a little.

She was going to keep Peeta safe now, no matter what. She was never going to let him out of her sight again.

[throwaway3844893]

Imagine: Katniss reminisces on Peeta's proposal

The first thing Katniss saw when she woke up was her husband's sleeping face. A smile spread on her face as she took a deep breath of the fresh morning air and examined the ring on her finger. It shone in the sunlight, and the pearl that Peeta had given her in the Quarter Quell arena looked dazzling in the direct rays from the sun. She turned to the side, pulling the thick sheets up around her bare arms, and watched as Peeta slept. Katniss had grown so used to the practice that she was able to spot the imperfections you could only find if you truly looked. Of course, with her Peeta had no imperfection other than her. But that thought was immediately replaced as Peeta stirred, and she grinned to herself as she allowed the self deprecating thoughts to wallow away as she rejoiced in the atmospheric eyes of her husband. "Good morning," she whispered, stifling a yawn in the process. She stretched her limbs so that her toes touched the edge of the birch headboard.

"Good morning," Peeta replied, resting his head on his hand. "How did you sleep?"

"No nightmares," Katniss said, the realization hitting her. "It's been so long since I've been without one. I think the excitement of the day just wore me out."

Katniss observed the room, and it gave her an ultimately peaceful feeling. Sunlight bled through the blinds, illuminating the whole room into a magnificent blend of neutral colors. Waves overlapped the sand, which was evident because the open window allowed Katniss and Peeta to hear the crash of the waves upon the sand. She soon realized that they had the entire day to themselves, and it filled her with joy to know that she could spend her entire day in a tranquil bliss.

"Peeta?" Katniss' voice was quiet, and her eyes met his.

"Yes?"

She paused for a moment, then asked, "Can we stay like this all day?"

Peeta chuckled a bit, "Sure, I have no objections. We can just have people bring us food. It may not be the Capitol's food, but I'm sure the seafood District Four provides us with will be just as good.

"I'd love that," Katniss sighed. Peeta's free arm unwrapped itself from her, and pushed the button on the wall that called one of the staff members to bring them food.

He moved his arm back over Katniss. His lips touched mark he'd left on her the night before.

"Last night was... amazing," he whispered, "but are you okay after-"

"Yes," Katniss laughed. "you're supposed to bleed the first time. You don't want to know how many times my mother has tried to or had that conversation with me." Their hands intertwined, and Katniss' eyes looked at the shiny diamond ring on her ring finger.

Katniss thought of the day Peeta proposed.

My yellow sundress flows through the wind as we walk back laughing into the house. We're both soaking wet, dripping into the grass. Our hands disconnect for only a moment, but that moment makes me feel empty. I need him. It makes me physically sick to not have him with me. That's why whenever he's working, I always roam around the new Hob. Every day at eleven thirty I stop at the bakery, and he always has fresh cheese buns out of the oven waiting for me. After lunch, I somehow always end up near what used to be the Seam. Shops upon shops have been built from the rubble. Today I stopped at a local jeweler to get my Mockingjay pin polished and the jeweler was always looking over his shoulder, like he was doing something forbidden. I assumed he was just nervous, a lot of people still look wary after I pass them or they see anything related to the Mockingjay. I don't blame them, I'm afraid too. Every day I'm afraid that somehow, someone will take away what I need most.

Later this evening, after I got home, I put on a yellow sundress and head to the lake, leaving a note telling Peeta to come when he was done with work. Soon after I saw him walking and sitting down next to the stream next to me. My hand twirled in the mud, picking at a katniss root, which I was named after. The rock he sat on was sturdy, but loose, so if he leaned over he will fall into the small lake.

"Hey Peeta, can you lean over and take a look at this plant?" I asked him. He soon leaned over and, as expected, tipped over and fell face first into the lake. His head popped up to see me rolling on my belly, laughing hysterically.

"Not. Funny," he said through chattering teeth, his golden hair dripping water droplets into the lake. Soon I felt my foot being grabbed and helplessly grabbing grass while laughing, I was plunged into the cool water. My head resurfaced, watching as he laughed loudly, not knowing I was silently behind him. I was only a foot away when a big wave fell over his head.

"Shi..." He began to say, but was muffled by the water going into his open mouth and over his head.

Giggling, I pushed myself out of the water, grabbing Peeta's arm and pulling him onto the soft dirt-turned mud. He shivered slightly, making a chattering noise with his teeth.

Soon after, we left which lead to this moment.

Inside the house, I had on a fresh pair of pajamas, and was just chilling on the couch watching TV when Peeta called me into the living room. I stood up with a sigh, and, feet pattering across the wood flooring, entered the dining room.

The scene before my eyes was incredible.

On the cherrywood table an uncountable amount candles were lit, giving off a sweet aroma and illuminating the room with a soft glow. Piles upon piles of my favorite foods were lined up, and my eyes instantly landed on the savory cheese buns I had every day, and the lamb stew Peeta only made me on my bad days, where I could hardly bring myself out of bed. The pictures of our families, both of us young, seemed To stare at me in the flickering light.

"Peeta... this is too much, it's not even a special occasion," I said, barely above a whisper. My hand was to my mouth, and I stared into those blue orbs that held the chair that must be mine. He just motioned with his hand to sit, and I hesitantly did so. He walked around the table, sitting in his own seat. After I realized there was no hope of getting an explanation of why he was doing this, other than the fact that he loved me dearly, I served myself and dug in.

After, when my belly was stuffed to the fullest, Peeta walked back to me and grabbed my hands. Standing up, we walked until we were near the edge of the table.

"Katniss Everdeen..." he said quietly, almost as if he was speaking to himself. It would've seemed that way too, had we not been holding each other's hands. Slowly, he let go of one hand. "You are the love of my life." Leaning down, and reaching into his pocket, my heart began to race. Was this really happening? "And I wouldn't want to spend it..." his other hand let's go, leaving me out of his grasp. Soon a brown box opens, revealing a small, diamond ring. He grabs my right hand again, "with anyone else. So, Katniss Everdeen, will you marry me?"

"Yes."

It is in this moment Katniss realized, smiling to herself, that all of her doubts and worries were worthless. She thought he wouldn't love her in five years, that she'd be alone, but then, laying there, she whispered to herself, "He's not going anywhere."

[mygalfriday]

and the piano’s this melancholy soundtrack to her smile (haymitch/effie)

It’s been five years since the end of the Games and being in the Capitol still makes Haymitch itch for a drink. He stays clear of the bar, just in case. Aside from the occasional glass, he’s remained mostly sober since the very painful drying out process in Thirteen. He hadn’t wanted to disappoint the kids. Right now, it’s hard to remember why. He curls his trembling hands into fists and tries not to breathe whenever someone walks by with a glass of liquor.

The booze is the only thing this damned anniversary celebration has going for it and he can’t even enjoy it. Capitol parties have never been his thing and if Plutarch hadn’t guilted him into attending to keep the spotlight off Katniss and Peeta, he wouldn’t be here. It brings back far too many memories — drinking in some corner with Chaff, hiding from his Escort. His friend is dead and Haymitch hasn’t seen Effie Trinket in five years.

He still thinks about that kiss more than he should.

At the time, it had seemed like a good idea. He’d always wondered what it would be like and he’d figured what the hell, right? Probably never see her again. And she’d been beautiful, standing there in the snow and blinking her feathered lashes at him. Now he knows what a mistake it had been. Her lipstick had tasted like raspberries. He still can’t eat them all these years later.

Haymitch has been wandering the party for a couple of hours, making sure he’s seen by anyone who might matter so Plutarch won’t have anything to bitch about later. He’s in the middle of holding his breath as he walks past a group of elderly men nursing glasses of scotch and contemplating the best way to slip out and catch a damn train when he senses it. It’s been years but he has never forgotten what the room feels like when she walks into it — the ripple in the air, like a pebble dropped into a pond. The room shifts focus, however briefly, to stare at her.

He swallows, turning slowly on his heel. His eyes are drawn to her instantly, just like everyone else. Fashion in the Capitol isn’t what it used to be but Effie still knows how to turn heads. The short, simple black cocktail dress is sequined and sparkling, catching the light every time she moves and showing off endless legs. She isn’t wearing a wig and it’s the first time he’s ever seen her real hair. It’s blonde and shiny, curling around her face in soft waves and resting against her pale shoulders. Her wide smile is nervous but he’s pretty sure he’s the only one who knows her well enough to see it.

Without really thinking about it, Haymitch steps forward. He wants to see her, wants to talk to her, wants to hear that ridiculous Capitol accent grow thicker when he irritates the holy hell out of her. He makes it two steps before he finally notices she isn't alone. She’s hanging off the arm of some tall brunette peacock in a three piece suit. Haymitch freezes, letting people maneuver around him as something cold and unpleasant floods his stomach.

She keeps smiling, leaning into her date and greeting people who come up to chat with her. She still knows how to command attention and it isn't long before she’s surrounded, her expression more at ease as she charms her audience. A possessive hand rests at the small of her back and the man looking down at her wears a fond smile, like he can’t quite believe his luck.

Haymitch swallows back bile.

Across the room, Effie laughs that soft, tinkling laugh he remembers. The sound takes him back to another time, when it was his arm she held and her laugh in his ear as she tried to charm sponsors into giving them money. He’d been too soaked in liquor to appreciate it back then but now — Haymitch forces himself to stop staring at her and move. He turns and walks away blindly, searching for an exit.

The first door he comes across leads out onto the balcony and it isn’t quite the permanent exit he’d been hoping for but some fresh air will have to do. He gulps in the city air greedily, lungs burning. He wants a drink. He really wants a damn drink. He curls shaking hands tightly around the iron railing until his knuckles turn white, bowing his head and shutting his eyes.

She’s with someone. Of fucking course she’s with someone.

“Fuck.”

“Your vocabulary hasn’t improved, I see.”

He starts, eyes snapping open. Though he doesn’t dare turn around, he straightens from his defeated slouch against the railing and stares out at the skyline, twinkling lights and skyscrapers as far as the eye can see. His hands ache but he can’t bring himself to let go of the railing. “Hello sweetheart.”

“Hello Haymitch.” He listens to the click of her heels as she moves closer. “I wasn’t sure you were ever going to come to me so I thought I’d come to you instead.”

He snorts bitterly. “Saw me, did you?”

She hums and out of the corner of his eye, he sees her lean against the railing beside him. Her dress glitters resplendently under the neon city lights. “You’re hard to miss.”

“You’re one to talk, Princess.” He hesitates, still refusing to look at her. “You look…good.”

“Thank you.”

He can hear the smile in her voice and keeps watching out of the corner of his eye, drinking in her every move like a starving man before a feast. She lifts a hand to brush her hair behind her ear and the sparkle of the ring on her finger almost blinds him. It feels strangely similar to being punched in the stomach. He must make some strangled noise in response because Effie seems to realize her mistake a moment too late. She drops her hand hastily, looking away.

After a moment of tense silence, she sighs. “How are you, Haymitch?”

If she’s looking for a change of subject, he isn’t in the mood to be indulgent. “Not as well as you, apparently.”

“Haymitch-”

“You love him?”

She hesitates. “I…admire him.”

“Not what I asked.”

Another sigh, this one full of resignation. “And yet it’s my answer.”

“He good to you?”

“Yes,” she admits. “Far better than I deserve.”

He scoffs, his breath clouding in the night air. “Bullshit.”

“I was an Escort,” she says, as though he needs reminding. “And then a rebel. I am an enemy to both sides of the war. I don’t truly belong anywhere and it was quite lucky anyone at all would be seen with me-”

“Is that why you’re with him?” He asks, incredulous enough to finally turn and look at her. Arguing with Effie feels familiar, feels more like home than even Twelve does. It puts him at ease for the first time since he set foot inside the Capitol. “Because he tolerates you? Kind of a low bar isn’t it, sweetheart?”

Effie frowns. “It’s hardly a fairytale but one does what one must.”

He stares at her. This close, he can see the cute little lines around her eyes and the way her mouth trembles like she doesn’t even believe her own lies. “That’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard you say,” he declares, looming over her. “And I’ve heard you say some dumb shit, Princess.”

She huffs, turning away to glower at the street down below. “I don’t expect you to understand, of course. You have the children and an entire district that adores you. You belong somewhere.”

“And you don’t?” He scowls, leaning further into her space. It always made her pay attention to him before but now she won’t even look at him. “You have me, Eff. Katniss. Peeta. I told you-”

Effie whirls suddenly, blonde hair bouncing against her shoulders and blue eyes fierce. “You kissed me goodbye and said don’t be a stranger. Don’t be a stranger, Haymitch. That is what you say to a casual acquaintance upon parting when you don’t care if you ever see them again. It is not an open invitation to show up and insert myself into your lives when you’re all trying to move on-”

“I wanted you there,” he snarls. “Fuck, Effie. I waited for you to show up with your fucking pink suitcases and -”

He stops abruptly, alarmed by the tears filling her eyes. Effie crying has always been more than enough to make him stop in his tracks, no matter how drunk he might have been at the time. He’d always grimace and panic and slur apologies, pet her wig until she swatted him away and dabbed at her eyes. He can’t handle Effie crying. He just fucking can’t.

“Eff,” he begins, voice significantly softer. “Don’t-”

“I didn’t know,” she whispers, blinking rapidly. “I wanted to come but… I thought you were just being polite.”

“Effie,” he says again, searching her face intently. “When the fuck have I ever cared about being polite?”

She chokes out a laugh, delicate fingers covering her mouth. Her damp eyelashes flutter and the lines around her eyes crinkle and that tinkling laugh fills the air between them. Warmth fills him like sunlight at the sound and before he knows it, Haymitch is laughing too. He doesn’t know who reaches for who but suddenly she’s in his arms again, wrapped up tight in his embrace. She’s so tiny but she fits perfectly against him, her head tucked just beneath his chin.

Haymitch buries his face in her hair and breathes her in. Beneath his hands, Effie trembles with suppressed laughter and something else, something soft and tender that makes him ache between his ribs. “I’ve missed you,” she whispers.

He tightens his grip, suddenly terrified she might slip through his fingers. Gruffly, he says, “Then come home.”

Effie hesitates. Her fingers grip his coat in her little fists and her damp lashes flutter against his throat. Her engagement ring digs into his chest even through his coat and he indulges in fantasies of slipping it off her finger and throwing it from the balcony until she finally breathes out, “All right.”

He smiles into her hair and doesn’t let go.

[ilguna]

Tacenda - Chapter Nine (f.o)

Summary: you’ll never truly be free from the Capitol.

Word Count; 4.7k

Warnings; swearing, DEATH MENTION, MURDER

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

The sun is the first thing you see when your head peaks out of the tube. It’s blinding, enough so that you have to cover your eyes to even see anything. You squint, and blink and shake your head a little bit as if that’ll reset your eyesight or something.

The smell of salt is just as blinding as the sun. It’s like a hard slap to your face, and you inhale deeply because it’s so comforting. It’s not a painful slap, it’s more of a  welcoming one, strangely enough. It screams home, it screams your name at volumes you can’t comprehend.

Your skin begins to prickle slightly, as if it’s excited to finally go swimming again. When your eyesight comes back and there isn’t black disformed dots taking over your vision, you can see that you’re surrounded by the blue water. You stare straight down, curious to see how deep it is, and you’re not surprised when you do see the depths. It probably goes far down.

You hold your hands out as you reposition yourself on the podium. You don’t want to accidentally fall off, because that will get you blasted sky high. It’ll suddenly start raining blood and chunks of your body on other tributes. Which could possibly trigger other podiums too.

As you look around, you have to take in the arena as fast as you can, since this year’s countdown is shorter than normal.

In the middle is the cornucopia, made out of silver. It’s shaped uniquely, as usual. It’s on one gigantic, jagged black rock. Around it is scattered displays with weapons. Swords and spears it looks like, the more common things. The special weapons like the tridents, axes, bow and arrow and so on look to be inside of the cornucopia, as well as the actual boxes.

Around the cornucopia, is water. It’s deep, but you can’t tell how much from where you’re standing. You’re sure you’d end up drowning before finding out how deep it actually is. You trust that there’s an entire ecosystem of fish beneath you, which will help with food.

The cornucopia is split into–what you can only assume–twelve slices with the same uneven, black rock as before. It extends all the way out to the beach, which goes all the way around the arena. By the looks of it, the beach isn’t very long, like a second or two to get to once place to another. Behind it, is the jungle.

You can see the birds flying, hear the birds chirping over the waves of the water beneath you. The trees are tall, and their limbs extend up to the sky. They all seem to be extraordinarily healthy, as if they haven’t seen a day of dead winter. There’s bushes, flowers, roots and so much more out there. You’re sure that there’s an unimaginable amount of wildlife in there. There should be no trouble with hunting later. And if there is, you guys just aren’t looking hard enough.

The entire arena is humid. You can feel yourself start to sweat already from the heat of the sun beating down on you. This is probably why you guys were given these wet-suit type clothes. It’s breathable, you’ll admit that, but it’s not very practical. You hope that the nights don’t get too cold, and it’s reliable when it comes to getting snagged on thorns.

To every division of the water, are two tributes. So, in your little slice, to your left is the male morphling. You guys are supposed to be in the alliance together, but by the way he’s eyeing you, you have a feeling that it doesn’t really apply anymore. He must be nervous over your televen and whether or not you’re going to hold up the alliance. You have to keep an eye on him.

Over to your right is the rocks. Over that, you can see Peeta and the guy from District Nine. Unfortunately, nine isn’t in the alliance which means that Peeta is in a serious amount of danger. You hope that he can see that nine isn’t friendly by any means, because nine is eyeing Peeta the same way that the male morphling is.

Looking up again, you can see that the clock is ticking down. It’s hit ten seconds already. You prepare your body in a diving position, every now and then you look over to the left, keeping an eye on the morphling. It looks like he’s trying to subtly turn his body towards you.

He’s going to be your first kill.

Peeta looks over to his left again, which is where you’re standing. This is when he notices that you’re standing there, because his body relaxes slightly. You wave to let him know you’re friendly, hoping that he sees the ring on your finger. Then, you point to your eyes, and then towards him, but in a way that says to look to his right.

He stops paying attention to you with this new information.

You count down the seconds with the clock. Breathing in and out accordingly. You can feel the adrenaline already seeping through your blood. How jumpy you suddenly are. It could be from the excitement of being in the water again, or it could be completely because you’re going to have to fight the second that you jump off of this podium, and you don’t know which one it is.

Just before the gong sounds, you suck in as much air as you can get. It goes off, and you take the male morphling by surprise. Instead of going off to your right, like he was expecting–which he jumped that way–you hesitated for half a second so when you jump to the left, you would hit him perfectly.

It works, your shoulder slams into his chest painfully hard, even for you. The both of you hit the water, and that’s where the real challenge begins.

He must be realizing his mistake now, seeing you float over him for a moment while you decide what to do. You could completely leave him to live, but you risk the chance of him grabbing your ankle. You have to finish him off.

You swim down to him, and he tries to fight you off for a moment. However, you manage to get behind him. From this angle, you wrap your legs around his with an iron lock. Crossing them tightly to make sure that he won’t be able to kick. And with his torso, you force his arms to his sides, and then quickly wrap your arms around his chest in an ‘x’.

This is when you begin to squeeze as hard as you can manage. It takes a moment, but it starts working. There’s a flurry of bubbles heading towards the surface, while you guys continue to sink down deeper. The bubbles start to come to a slow, which is when you arch your stomach outwards, while pulling everything the other way.

It’s an uncomfortable position to be in, and consequently, he starts to breathe out more. Once he’s on low air, he tries to suck in, but all he gets is a mouth full of water. Again, he sees his mistake, and tries to thrash around to get you off of him, but you hold on tight to make sure that he doesn’t get free. You don’t want him to live to tell the tale.

After a few more mouthfuls of water, he begins to get limp. You take your chance then, not wanting him to suffer any longer, and you let go, getting above him a little bit. You place one hand on his jaw, and the other on his cheek as you twist at an upwards angle. You can’t hear the cannon go off, so you do it two more times just to make sure that his neck snapped properly.

You begin to kick your legs and move your arms rapidly after that. Years of being in the water have prepared you for this moment. Your lungs are burning, but you let no air out, and keep your lips pressed together tightly. Left arm over the head, and then right. The boots are a little frustrating in this moment, you’d rather it be your bare feet now.

Your hand breaks the surface first, and a second later, your head is above water. The air is warm on your face from how freezing cold the water is. You take a moment to take in your surroundings, because you definitely got turned around while you were underwater.

Your back is now turned to the cornucopia, so you go to spin to look back towards it again, when you spot Katniss and Finnick on the rocks to your right. They’re leaning over, helping someone onto the path with them.

“Did you see (Y/n)?” Finnick sounds panicked.

It has to be Peeta that they’re helping, “Behind you–”

Finnick turns at the news, obviously hoping to see you over here. His eyes spot you instantly as you swim over. He kneels down for you, holding his hand out.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Fine–the guy from District Six turned on me.” you say, putting your hand in Finnick’s.

He helps pull you up, and you stumble a little bit when you get on the land. You don’t hesitate to turn to Peeta next, offering your hand to him the same time that Finnick does. Peeta looks unsure for a moment, because the move looks so rehearsed on your parts, since it was too in sync. But Peeta grabs onto you guys, and you pull him up.

“The careers are in the middle.” Katniss says.

You look around her to see that they’re guarding the path to the cornucopia you guys would have to take. It’s unfair.

“Alright, let’s go.” you push Peeta to start moving first.

You follow behind Peeta, Finnick behind you, and Katniss takes up the back. Peeta makes a beeline for the trees, since that’s all you guys have. You slow down when Finnick ushers Katniss to go in front of you too. You’re not bothered with being in the back, except for the fact that you’re weaponless.

You all follow the path that Peeta makes. Dodging the leaves that reach out to caress you, and just barely sliding past the small branches that would leave a nasty cut. The further you run, the darker it seems to get because the leaves off of the trees are making one giant shadow.

Every now and then, a stream of light manages to break through the leaves. The shadow isn’t prominent enough to make the entire place dark. With or without the light, you can see just fine. However, you can imagine how nasty it will be to try and navigate this jungle at night, with only the moon to give off light. You have a slight feeling in your gut that the careers won’t be hunting tonight. You guys are going to be in the clear.

Your lungs are burning by the time Finnick yells for them to stop for a moment. They crouch down, while you sit on the floor completely. There’s salt water mixed in with your sweat, and it’s running down every part of your body. Going from holding your breath for several minutes to running wasn’t an ideal transition, and you need to compose yourself in some way.

Finnick rubs your back slightly, letting you know that he’s aware that you’re struggling to breathe. You try and focus on the sounds of everything around you. It’s all animals and bugs that are making these noises. The cicadas are especially loud, because it’s one constant noise.

Katniss crouches down with the rest of you, still looking around and taking in the scenery. It’s a way to adapt to your surroundings. You know about a hundred different ways to escape if someone were to come running up to you guys. It’s fast analyzing, and preparing your steps ahead of time.

“God, it’s hot,” Peeta breathes, you wipe your sweat from your forehead as he says that.

This heat reminds you of the days that you would spend on the dock with your family. Those are the type of days when the weather is reaching ninety degrees, and if you don’t put on some form of sunscreen, you’re going to burn all your skin. You can remember a couple of times when you ended up doing that.

Reed had spent the entire day reminding you to put on the sunscreen, and you lied to him throughout the whole day. He knew you were lying, and he just wanted to see how far you would go until you would finally put it on. Unfortunately, you never did, and ended up turning a bright red by the end of the day.

He used it as a learning moment later in that week. He told you then, that he had warned you all day to put it on so you wouldn’t get as bad as a sunburn as you had, and you didn’t listen. He wasn’t going to force you to put it on, because you needed to learn why in the first place.

Luckily, it was during the summer, so you didn’t have any school going on. But either way, that was the very last time you had let yourself get sunburnt. Because it was a painful week, and you never wanted to experience it again in your life.

“We got to find fresh water.” Peeta says, Katniss moves some hair out of her face.

You all sit in silence for a second, until the first cannon goes off. All of you look up, as if you’ll see who’s just died, but it’s more of a reaction to the noise coming above. Since it isn’t necessarily surrounding you. Two more cannons follow the first.

“Bloodbath,” you say, wiping your face again.

Finnick laughs, “Well, I guess we’re not holding hands anymore.”

You can’t help but to smile with him. Because as you thought last night. You worked together as one, to try and get the games to stop. And you held hands and showed that you were a force to be reckoned with. But today, it all went to shit. You were all at each other’s throats, despite being in alliances.

“You think that’s funny?” Katniss asks.

“You don’t?” you breathe, “Did you really think for a single moment that we would all stick together?”

Finnick tilts his head your way, almost like saying that you’re right, and then he goes to say his own bit, pointing up to the sky, “Every time that cannon goes off, it’s music to my ears.” Finnick then places his hand on your knee, “I don’t care about any of them.”

“Good to hear.” Katniss says, reaching back and pulling a machete out of her quiver.

“Wanna face the career pack alone?” he challenges, “What would Haymitch say?”

Finnick has definitely shown her the bracelet. And just thinking about it now, you reach to play with the ring on your finger, still not completely used to the texture. You twist it around, and Peeta goes to look to see what you’re doing.

“Haymitch isn’t here.” Katniss says.

The statement could go a ton of ways. But she’s basically saying that she doesn’t have to stick with the alliance that Haymitch has clearly made for her. She’s not happy that Finnick is challenging her like this. Finnick might seem heartless at first glance, saying something like ‘I don’t care about any of them’ but he does care.

He just can’t show it. You guys have to prove that you’re ruthless. If you’re going to kill someone, there is no second-guessing. You fall through on it, you get over it and not mull on it the entire games. You can address what you did in the arena later on. She must not like this route.

She’s looking at them from the ‘they’re people’ perspective. She’s completely right, they are people. But people tend to think for themselves. Your first instinct is to always save yourself, and the second would be to save someone around you. When you’re thinking of them as people, and you’re worrying about the lives they would have lived, you’re putting yourself at a disadvantage.

Again, you could reflect on this all later, after the games are over.

“Let’s keep moving.” Peeta tries to ease the tension, but Katniss is still staring straight-faced at Finnick.

Finnick holds out his hand for you to use as leverage as you push yourself up. Then, he follows behind and holds onto your hand tightly. With the other, he has the trident. Katniss passes off the machete over to Peeta, and you can’t help but to feel the jealousy of not having a weapon for yourself.

“I’m defenseless.” you mutter to Finnick, watching where you step as you guys begin to follow Peeta. Katniss walks behind you three.

“Maybe you’ll get a sponsor.” Finnick tells you.

“I hope, because I don’t want to rely on you three for help the entire time.”

“That wouldn’t be so bad.” Finnick grins, “It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve done it. For me, at least.”

“Leave Typhoid out of this.” you shake your head, laughing.

Peeta starts swinging at vines that are hanging from the trees so it’s easier to pass through. You watch as he does it for a little while, since there’s not really much to talk about.

“I could let you borrow my trident,” Finnick holds it up, and then offers it to you.

“Yeah, right.” you laugh, but you take it from him anyway.

It’s heavy because it’s made out of pure metal. Too much for you to handle, you’d rather have something lighter. If you’re going to be stabbing, this would be perfect, but you’re not opposed to throwing either. The spears made by District Two aren’t so bad. They’re not as heavy because they don’t require so much. It’s a metal pole with a point at the top.

As for the trident, it has to split off, and it makes the trident top-heavy. It may work for Finnick well, but you’d never be caught dead trying to wield this thing. You haven’t done it before, and you’re not really looking forward to doing it now either.

You pass it back to Finnick, “I’d rather have a sword.”

Finnick chuckles a little bit, “Classic career.”

“Don’t know what you’re implying, but for your sake, I’m going to ignore it.” you look up to see how much further you guys will have up the hill.

Peeta swings the machete the same time Katniss yells, “Peeta, no!”

The machete hits the forcefield, and from the amount of electricity that comes from it. Not only do sparks fly, but Peeta is sent flying back into you guys.

You hit the ground a little hard, laying on your back. Finnick takes a moment to breathe, because the wind was probably knocked out of him since he was in front of you. He got the blunt of Peeta’s body.

The dome makes a sound as it goes back to its facade of being a jungle. Katniss pushes herself up, and you can hear her mumble, “Peeta?”

“Peeta?” she asks again, you push yourself up into a sitting position, “He’s not breathing! He’s not breathing!”

Finnick is up almost instantly after that, heading straight for Peeta. You watch as he pushes Katniss away from Peeta, and you know what’s going to happen. You move to put yourself between Katniss and Finnick, watching as she goes to pull out an arrow. Finnick is not going to get shot trying to save her fiance.

“It’s CPR!” you shout, holding your hand out to keep her at a distance. She looks over to Finnick to see that he’s starting compressions.

Once you’re sure that her body relaxes, you move out of her way completely. You go back to where you were sitting before. A little pain is flaring in your lower back, and you rub it lightly, hoping that it’s because you just hit the ground a little too hard. It’s nothing you could control, you were in the air for a couple of seconds, it’s got to build a tiny bit of momentum.

You watch as Finnick gets a little desperate, muttering under his breath. His face looks strained, almost like he’s afraid what will happen if Peeta dies right now. To the forcefield of all things. The rebellion would die right here, and Katniss wouldn’t be able to carry it out.

Katniss leans over Peeta too, but out of Finnick’s way. She has a hand on his arm, watching and pleading for Peeta to breathe again.

Peeta takes a deep breath, and you can see relief wash over Finnick as he gets out of the way. You pull him towards you, not really focusing on Katniss anymore. You place your hand on his chest first, before moving his face to look at you.

“You’re okay? Nothing hurts from hitting the ground?”

He shakes his head, and you nod, removing your hand from his face, “And you?”

“A little back pain,” you smile slightly, “Nothing I can’t handle. You did good, Finnick.”

“I know.” he smiles, and then he sits up a little bit to kiss you.

After that, you help him onto his feet. He leans over and gathers the trident and machete while Peeta and Katniss hug. You pause for a moment, watching how hard Katniss squeezes Peeta.

When you look to Finnick, he has that same look on your face. He’s thinking the same thing that you are. That you two have clearly misjudged the relationship to some degree, because there are clearly some feelings there. It wasn’t a total act like it looked. There’s something underlying beneath.

Finnick looks like he’s about to suggest to keep going, but the sound of a sponsor gift stops all of you. You look over to where it’s coming from, and your eyes widen a little bit at the size of the gift.

Unfortunately, it gets stuck in the damn tree.

“I got it,” you tell them, Finnick gives you a boost, and then you carefully navigate around the sturdy and the flimsy branches. Fortunately, the one it got stuck in, is strong enough to hold your weight.

You sit with your legs on either side of the branch. Without any warning, you curiously open it up with a slight head tilt. You’re hoping that it’s a gift for either you and Finnick and not one for Katniss or Peeta. It could be for them, considering Peeta just took a thousand volts to the fucking head.

You pop open the top regardless, picking up the paper, “It’s for me.”

“Are you sure?” Peeta asks.

“It’s got an ‘M’.” you say, holding out the paper for them to see, “And it says ‘I promised’.”

You disconnect the parachute part from the tin, closing the top and then handing it down to Finnick. You hop from the branch to the ground. Finnick opens it up, curious this time.

“Holy shit, (Y/n).” Finnick says.

You see exactly what he means, picking up the knife.

Listen, in the betting room they sometimes sell these souvenirs. Typically, they’re plastic and made for the kids to play around with. They’re not real, which makes them pretty much useless.

However, this is very real, and you can tell by the way the silver metal glints in the sunlight. These ‘toys’ are limited edition. They’re specially made for each games, and on top of that, each district has their own design. It’s mostly a way to show your support for a certain district. You buy them, show them off later and prove your loyalty or whatever.

This knife is obviously from Laurel, just because of the ‘I promised’ remark. It hasn’t even been an entire day already, and she’s sent you the gift that you needed. She knows that you can’t survive in here without some sort of protection. And she had to have heard your sword comment. Although, this is no sword.

The hilt of the knife is specially carved to make it unique. You can always see the beach theme with District Four, since that’s what you’re known for. Being on the ocean. Where the hand is supposed to go, there’s waves made into the shape of a hand so it fits perfectly. It’s the ‘right’ way to hold it, and it’s probably the most comfortable too, just by the looks of it.

Around it, there’s more waves, fish, seashells, and some pieces missing to resemble dips in sand, you think. You hold it in your hand properly, and this is when you notice the little button where the thumb goes. You move out of the way of the three watching you, as you press the button.

And just like that, the knife extends into a sword. It’s all silver, and there’s no proof that it had been a knife before. The pieces blend together perfectly. When you move it, it’s light. It’s easily portable, and when you swing at a vine in the way, it flys clear off.

“Oh, this was expensive.” you say, swinging it in your hands, “I didn’t even know they sold these as actual weapons.”

“It’s because they don’t.” Finnick tells you, taking the paper and looking at it again, “Who promised?”

“Laurel, just before I was sent in,” you tell him.

You press the button again, and the blade goes right back into that perfect knife shape. You grin at Finnick, and he seems to have the same look on his face. He goes ahead and drops the tin into the bushes, to keep it ouf of the way, but he holds onto the paper.

You guys get back to it, Katniss now walks in front of you guys, occasionally throwing rocks to make sure that you don’t walk into the forcefield again. Behind Katniss is Peeta, and then Finnick, then you. Finnick had wanted you in front of him, but you wanted to play around with the knife a little bit.

Plus, he would need to be there to catch Peeta just in case Peeta isn’t all there still. It was an acceptable answer for both parts, and Finnick let you hang back. You spin the knife in your hand subconsciously, checking behind you every now and then to make sure that you guys aren’t being followed.

It’s mostly a walk filled with silence. Finnick will occasionally help you down a steep part of the hill, and then go back to what he was doing before. Once or twice he asked about your back, making sure that it’s starting to feel better, and you were able to tell him it’s like the pain wasn’t even there.

You wonder what everyone else is up to in here. Since there’s not much to do, other than try and hunt for some sort of water source. Which is what you guys have been doing this entire time. Circulating this section of the arena in hopes that you’ll find water. You’re sweating more than you can afford, and it’s beginning to weigh you down.

Hopefully, Johanna and Blight had successfully gotten Beetee and Wiress out of the bloodbath. Knowing them, they’d probably head to the middle on the idea that they would be able to get something out of it. However, Wiress and Beetee aren’t built for combat like the rest of you are.

You also hope that Cecelia was smart enough to run away from the cornucopia, rather than towards it. You would have absolutely no idea, simply because you were underwater for the entire beginning of the games. When you had gotten out of the water, it was over. You were already running to get away from the middle because of the careers.

Things would have gone so much differently had you been allowed to go to the middle, rather than drown what was supposed to be an ally.

[alliswell21]

This was a prompt I saw @lovely-tothe-bone had posted. You know me, I suffer “shiny-red-ball syndrome” or actually “puffy-tail-plot-bunny Syndrome”

Anywho... Rated M for language and adult situations. Modern!Everlark. Also, I stole a line from @mega-aulover and I’m not sorry! 🙃

The Garage

The Panem Mockingjays were in the Super Bowl for the first time in history, a true Cinderella story of perseverance and teamwork that brought them to play against none other than the legendary Capitol Mutts, who were getting the beating of their life! 27 to 3 with only thirteen minutes on the clock and one timeout left.

The trophy was in the bag, and it was beautiful!

The Mockingjays were in possession; the Mutts ran an aggressive defense, but the Mockingjays’ quarterback sidestepped a tackle and scored a 30 yard touchdown.

The whole room in the Everdeen home exploded in cheers!

Katniss had been squirming half the evening in the loveseat she occupied with her best friend, Peeta Mellark, and decided she couldn’t take the tension anymore. She had to do something about it.

Looking around, Katniss stood up and motioned Peeta to follow her. She put a finger to her lips to shush him, then wrapped her hand around his, and pulled him out of the den, where their families were celebrating raucously the victory they could practically taste.

“Where are we going?” Peeta whispered harshly, trying not to trip over his feet.

“Somewhere quiet, where we can be alone for a minute.” She responded in a similar tone. “Now, stop walking so loudly, would you?”

“Sorry.” He said sheepishly, and really tried to step lightly on Mrs. Everdeen’s pristine hardwood floors.

They made it to the kitchen, but instead of turning left, to the staircase leading upstairs to the bedrooms, Katniss went straight, out the kitchen door to the backyard, and on to the detached garage.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Peeta asked nervously.

The garage was Mr. Everdeen’s pseudo mancave, complete with a mini fridge, a rickety couch and an ancient TV set on top of his work bench. Their fathers hung out there for hours drinking beer, working on projects, deploring sports statistics and generally gossiping about whatever it was grown man gossiped about.

Katniss winked and closed the garage door with a click behind them.

"Our parents are so drunk, they won't even notice we left. Calm down." She told him as she fell to her knees, making quick work of his fly and undershorts.

Peeta tried to argue— honest! but Katniss was fast with those clever fingers of hers— her mouth on his cock shut him up quickly.

Peeta stood there uselessly, struggling between watching her suckle his dick while pumping the parts of him she couldn’t fit in her warm little mouth, and letting his head fall backwards and enjoy the ride until it was his turn to reciprocate the favor; and Lord in Heaven, did he wanted to reciprocate!

She had really gotten good at this, he thought when feeling the telltale tingling at the base of his spine. He was so close!

He couldn’t help his slow, whiny moan, “Katnisss… fuuuuck!” His eyes squeezed shut, his hands grabbed onto some surface he’d knocked his ass against when he started coming into Katniss’ gloriously wet mouth.

It wasn't until the door opened, that his eyes were able to focus again... on the angry face of Mr. Everdeen as he took in the sight of his daughter’s full mouth.

“What the fuck is this?!” The man slurred loudly.

Katniss scrambled to her feet, somehow blocking her father from seeing Peeta tuck himself back into his pants. But nothing prevented the man from watching his daughter wipe the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand.

It only took the man a surprising two steps to cross the garage and reach his child. He was about to grab her upper arm when Peeta pushed her behind his broader frame.

“I can explain!” Peeta shouted fanning out his arms to shield the girl.

“You can explain? What, how the two of you stabbed me and everyone else in the back by sneaking around like this?” Mr. Everdeen’s bloodshot eyes were crazed, spittle flew everywhere out of his mouth. “You can explain you disrespected my home and my daughter by taking advantage of her under my nose?”

“He didn’t take advantage of me!” Katniss protested ducking under Peeta’s outstretched arm to face her father. “I wanted to do it. I brought him out here ‘cause we like each other… a lot!”

Sensing danger, Peeta grabbed Katniss by the waist and shoved her out of the way. “Sir, I swear is not like—”

“You little shit!“ Mr. Everdeen took ahold of the boy’s collar and yanked him away from Katniss.

She leapt forward, scratching at her father’s wrist. “Stop it! Let him go!”

“What’s going on?!” Another man’s voice boomed in the chilly room.

As if the situation wasn’t mortifying enough, everybody spilled out of the house and crowded around the garage’s open door, watching the scene with wide eyes.

Mrs. Everdeen rushed forward to pry her husband’s fingers from Peeta’s crumpled, stretched out shirt.

Mr. Everdeen rounded up on his neighbor and best buddy, “I’ll tell you what’s going on. I caught your back-stabbing son defiling my daughter!”

“What? That is preposterous. Our Peeta is a good boy. He would never do such a thing. It was probably that wild child of yours that threw herself at him.” Said Mrs. Mellark in that condescending tone she liked using even on her own family.

“I beg your pardon?” Mrs. Everdeen dusted her slacks exaggeratedly. “Katniss isn’t wild!”

“It’s that boy of yours! I knew his innocent, helpful, quiet kid next door facade wasn’t to be trusted! He better not had gotten my baby pregnant, or there will be hell to pay!”

“First you’ll have to prove it’s his. I’m more worried my son could’ve contracted something!”

“How dare you insinuate—“

“Enough!” Bellowed uncle Haymitch, whom usually had his moments of deep wisdom when really inebriated. “Y’all are acting like a bunch of morons! All you’re accomplishing with this yellin’ is making your kids even dumber than they already are.”

Ouch!

Everyone stopped bickering at once, looking rightly shamed and partly stunned by Haymitch’s outburst.

“Now, there ain’t enough booze in this house to make freezing my ass out here, worth watching y’all bitch over two fucking 18 year old college students who’ve been glued at the hip since I can remember, doing the horizontal lambada together.”

Nobody argued, so Haymitch continued.

“I’m not saying what the Boy and Sweetheart did was smart, it was in fact pretty stupid. But you too did dumb shit as horny teenagers,” Haymitch glared a both sets of parents, now blushing. “Give the kids credit, they’re legally adults. You’re blind if you haven’t noticed them making puppy-dog eyes at each other. Is sickening!

“I’m starving, and it’s too cold for this shit!” Haymitch burped, “I’m going inside now.”

Peeta and Katniss were wrapped around each other during the hullabaloo. But slowly loosen their hold to face their family.

“I’m not… pregnant.” Katniss squeaked. “Not even a small chance.”

“Neither of us has any diseases.” Muttered Peeta scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably. “Not much chance for that either.”

“How can you be so sure?” Mr. Everdeen snapped, still not ready to let his anger go.

“What are you using for birth control? You can’t depend on condoms alone,” Declared Mrs. Everdeen.

“Mom!” Exclaimed Katniss scowling, “Geez! We are not actually doing it! What Daddy walked in on— and believe me, I wish he’d never seen that— is as far as we’ve gone.”

She peered up at Peeta and he smiled down at her, squeezing her hand in his.

“Look,” Peeta exhaled and then faced their parents. “We are sorry we didn’t say anything before, but we knew you guys would react… exactly like you did. We can assure you, nobody has anything to worry about. But just to put your minds at ease...” He took a decidedly shaky, deep breath and confessed, “We are still… virgins.”

“TMI, dude! Nobody needed to know that!” Called Peeta’s middle brother. His girlfriend’s bulging eyes followed the shit show with interest.

Peeta threw his brother a withering glare, but it was Katniss’ fourteen year old sister, Primrose, who answered.

“Oh please! Why the Hellman’s real mayonnaise are you here then, Rye?! You didn’t protest our parents belittling Katniss and Peeta in front of everyone, when Daddy interrupted their private moment! Grow up!” The teen crossed her arms over her chest petulantly.

Maybe Prim felt a tad jealous and kinda out of sorts seeing her secret crush’s girlfriend at her house, but nobody messed with her sister and brother-in-law on her watch! The thought made Prim looked guiltily at her parents; but then she remembered how they’d been screaming, blowing things out of proportion, and felt smuggly vindicated. She could still hold a couple of secrets for her sister without blabbing.

“Everyone should be happy Katniss and Peeta are together. They love each other and will keep each other safe! Uncle Haymitch’s right, you guys are just selfish.” Primrose turned on her heels so fast heading for the kitchen, her long, blond braid smacked Rye on the chest with a dull thud.

Mr. Everdeen sighed. “I’m still angry with you both. And I still think you were disrespectful. But I guess Prim’s right. We’re lucky Katniss is not bringing home some lazy hooligan with a criminal record. I just wished…”

“I know, Daddy.” Soothed Katniss still holding Peeta’s hand. “I’m sorry. We both are.”

“We, all are.” Said Mrs. Everdeen sidling with her husband. Then she turned to the Mellarks, “I think we all owe the kids an apology. And each other.”

Everyone apologized for the things they said and promised to be more supportive and less reactionary, despite still being disappointed Katniss and Peeta hid their relationship from them.

“Well, that was terrifying.” Peeta whispered shuddering when their families finally left them alone.

Katniss chuckled. “I know. I wonder if we should’ve told them this all started ‘cause we got shit-faced and eloped two weeks ago?”

Peeta smiled wryly, wrapping an arm around his “for-now” wife. “Nah. My mom would’ve gotten an aneurysm. She’d probably drag us to the hospital to get tested for STDS, pregnancies and DNA. In that order.”

“Yeah but, they would’ve calmed down when we told them we were getting an annulment.” Katniss said a little unsure.

“About that…” Peeta trailed off catching Katniss’ curious eyes peering up at him from his chest. “What if… we just kept… married?”

Katniss bobbed her head, although there was nothing to consider, really. “We could apply for housing together.” She offered.

“Share expenses.”

“Go further... than oral?” The question came out high pitched and ragged.

Peeta breathed out a sigh of relief, he wasn’t the only one thinking about it.

He nodded readily. “Together?” He bit his lip, and pulled a black pouch out of his pants pocket. A ring with an iridescent pearl on top spilled into his open palm.

Katniss’ eyes widened, but she lifted her left hand, spreading her fingers apart so Peeta could slip the ring in place.

Admiring her new jewelry, Katniss smiled.

“Together!” She confirmed rising on tiptoes to kiss her “for-Always” husband in the lips.

[thehopefuldandelion]

Not Him

part 2

part 1 is here on ao3. here on fanfiction.net

thanks to all who supported me in part 1 specifically @lovely-tothe-bone​ and @tindomrl​

everlark.

I do not own any of these characters:)

***

A day later and I still hadn’t process the fact that just yesterday, Gale and his “intern”, Madge, were in my bed. Gale cheated on me. So what, maybe I had some erotic thoughts about Peeta. I hadn’t actually gone through with them. He’s my boss anyway. I can’t think like that.

Shaking that thought away, I focus on getting ready for the day. Another day ignoring Peeta, another day without Gale. I get dressed quickly in a pencil skirt and button up shirt with a black suit jacket. The more conservative today, the better.

The apartment seems, empty, without another soul here. The tv which used to drown out the blaring noise of honking cars is silent, no dents in the couch to be seen. I don’t have to cook breakfast for two people, instead just for me. One singular person. I suck in a breath and release it. In all honesty, the apartment might seem empty, lonely even, but I don’t miss Gale. As our relationship dwindled and tottered over the edge, we became more like roommates. I can’t even remember the last time he touched me romantically. Pass by pecks and simple questions with simple answers is the only interaction we really had near the end. No wonder he cheated on me.

I should probably be making a bigger deal out of this but I’m too exhausted to care. Gale seemed done with me so why should I still keep rekindling the tiny fire we had? I push all these thoughts that have haunted me since last night far back into my overwhelmed brain and hope that today goes smoothly.

Shit. There goes the milk spilling all over the floor. Yeah today is not gonna be smooth. I don’t have time for this. Shit. Shit. Shit. I hear the toaster pop! meaning the toast is done, burnt, of course. And as I spread butter a chunk slides down my freshly ironed shirt. Fuck. On my way to the bedroom, pretty much jogging, I bump my hip into the chair, hard, (that will leave a bruise) causing me to stub my toe on the door post. 

“Aghhhhhhhhh,” I scream in pain and frustration.

I guess this is the world punishing me for some odd reason. Dang. I’m late. I mean I do need this job, but I won’t have to see Peeta anymore so it’s kinda a win-win. Not really, in the end it would be a hard loss and a joyful win.  Stop thinking, Katniss. You need to get to work. Yikes. This day sucks.

***

“Good Morning, Katniss,” Peeta greets me while sipping a cup of coffee. Black.

“Hello, Peeta. How was your night?”

“Wonderful. Isn’t it such a lovely day?” He says looking straight at me. I noticed he didn’t even glance out the clear windows. “And how are you on this beautiful day?”

“Uh, it’s great...I’m great,”I respond while gritting my teeth. I can’t stand his kindness. He peered at me, his face in disbelief, turning his head slightly.

He almost scoffs and then says, “Ok, Katniss. Whatever you say.”

What is he? A psychopath? Telekinetic? Wouldn't be surprised.

“Oh, and Katniss? You have a stain on your shirt.”

Fuck.

Over the past week of working at this hell-hole, I observed Peeta giving me looks, unsettling but not in a vicious way. I almost want to relish in the tingling feeling they bring from head to toe. What is wrong with me. My brain and heart are sending two very different signals to my body. I need to throw all thoughts of Peeta in the sudden absent trashcan in my baffled brain. Can anyone find that missing trashcan? 

“Katniss?” I hear someone call from behind me.

My chair swivels around and I see a jubilantly smiling Peeta fixated on me, or more particularly the stain. Ugh, that freakin stain. He pulls a hand from behind his back and I see he’s holding a shirt. I give him a befuddled look and he quickly stammers to explain what it’s for.

“Uh, I always have an extra button up with me and was wondering if...well if...if you wanted to wear it until tomorrow. I mean, obviously, you can change when you get home. You don’t actually have to wear it until tomorrow.” He rubs the back of his neck with his hand and blushes a deep shade of red. “So, if you’d be interested, I uh-”

I save him the embarrassment by grabbing the shirt out of his hands and running to the bathroom.  He gives me a bewildered look and I almost want to laugh. But I don’t. Because I hate him. Right? Right. Lie. And me borrowing his shirt is just because I have no other option. Right. Lie.

Slowly unbuttoning my shirt, I imagine what this would feel like if it was a different situation with Peeta unbuttoning it for me. Oh god. A shoot of pleasure settles in my lower half. What is this man doing to me?

The white button up smells of dill and almost, if I’m not mistaken, cinnamon. The sweet smell wafts into my nose making me hungry. As expected, I am engulfed in the shirt, enveloping me in warmth and...love? That’s bizarre. I never associated Peeta and love. Those two never intermingled in my mind. With the shirt tucked into my skirt and having splashed frigid water on my face, I walk, no, speed-walk towards my desk.

Peeta pops his head out from his office and is about to say something when he looks at me. His mouth opens a few times but no words form. Ok then. “K...Katniss, uh, um, I, uh, can you-

The phone rings distracting me momentarily from his stammering. 

“This is she.”

 “Yes, he is here.”

 “I’ll transfer you now.”

I turn to Peeta, seeing him still utterly flabbergasted, and say, “Katie’s Cakes on line 1, Mr. Mellark.”

Recovered, he answers, “Thank...Thanks, Katniss.” In a blink of an eye he is back in his office with the door safely closed.

I snort to myself and wonder where else the day will lead.

***

My head is throbbing. Countless phone calls and a trip to the coffee shop down the street later and its 6pm, and I’m still at work. Honestly, a pint of Ben and Jerry’s and Netflix are calling my name. Ugh, I can’t wait to go home. I should've brought some Advil. Mentally adding that reminder for next time.

A quick glance around the office assures me I’m the only one here. Hallelujah. I’m starving. Maybe there's something in the break room. As I open the fridge and bend down to reach some leftover cookies form a party, I hear a gasp and someone run out of the room. Huh. That’s odd. My head hurts and I’m hungry so I guess I’m hallucinating. Eh, it happens.

Oh my God. These cookies are heaven on earth. I moan as I take a bite. Another gasp. What the hell. It can't be me...can it? I start to investigate. My thought process is that if it is a demon or ghost, at least I can die and never have to come here again. The only lights on are from my cubicle and...wait that's weird, why are Peeta’s office lights on. Hmm. 

As I turn the corner to get to his office, I bump into a something hard.

“Oof.”

“Are you ok, I’m so sorry Katniss.”

It takes me a second to regain my bearings. “Peeta? What the fuck?”

“Ah, I didn’t mean to bump into you,” he says with a slight blush on his cheeks. He then offers his hand for me to take and helps me up. I brush the dust from the ground of my skirt.

Ok, then.

“It’s fine Peeta. I’ll survive.”

“CanIbuyyoudinner?”

“What?”

“Uh, can I take you out?” he says.

“As a date?” I inquire him. There is no way in hell I would go on a date with Peeta Mellark. Right?

“Um,” he rubs the back of his neck, the blush spreading from his cheeks to his ears, then neck. “I guess. I was thinking more of an apology. For bumping into you, that is.”

“Ok,” I say slowly, reminding myself this is not a date. Yes, definitely not a date. “When?”

“Now?”

“Uh, um, sure. Yes, now is fine.” I say quickly trying to cover up my stammering.

I walk over to grab my purse and put on my jacket. “So where, were you thinking?”

“I have something in mind,” he tells me with a glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

***

We end up at a bakery about 2 miles outside of city limits. I was confused at first, until Peeta told me he grew up around here and worked at this bakery until taking over Mellark Enterprises from his dad. The bakery is small and homey, wood tables slightly worn down from years of use. The counters are stained, each stain telling a story. It seemed like a nice place to grow up, full of love and laughter, something I never understood.

Peeta lets me try a variety of pastries, all delicious and mouth watering.

“I actually own this bakery.” Peeta tells me.

“So that’s why we are in here safe and sound and not arrested for breaking and entering.” I tease him.

He laughs and looks me in the eyes. “I don’t come here often enough, being CEO of a company and all,” he says while stabbing his fork into a muffin. “It’s peaceful out here. Almost like, everyone has taken time to reflect on their lives and go about their days how they want too.”

“So, what I’m picking up on is you didn't want to be a CEO of a multi-million dollar company.”

“Honestly, no.” He breathes out. “I wanted to be a famous painter and if that didn't work out I’d just stay here, spending the rest of my days baking.”

“Makes, sense. Painter you say? Just how good are you?” I laugh.

Peeta shrugs his shoulders. “I’m not terrible.” One of his curls has fallen over his eyes and it takes all my restraint to not reach my hand over and brush it back.

Hours later we were still talking and laughing. I was having a great time.

“No, way. You actually said you were the doctor and flew around in the TARDIS. I can’t believe she considered that that was true.” 

“Oh, yeah. She was mortified. Best blind date I’ve ever been on.”

“Well, I wouldn't have run off,” I blush.

“Good to know,” Peeta says in return, giving me a look of hope.

We both just peer at each other, lost in thoughts of our own. The silence isn't awkward per se, it’s almost satiated.

“Well, I should get home. I do have work after all.”

“Of course, Katniss. Thanks for joining me. I hope this evening was apology enough,” he says kindly.

“It will suffice,” I tease.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asks, almost sad to see me go.

“Tomorrow. Good Night, Peeta.”

“’Night, Katniss.”

I drive away feeling strange. Do I like my boss? More importantly, do I like Peeta Mellark?

***

After hanging up my coat and setting down my purse, I shimmy of my skirt, keeping Peeta’s button up on, I jump into bed and spread out like a starfish. This day is over. Finally. As my eyes become heavy and I drift off into a deep slumber, my phone pings!

From: Unknown 11:46

Hey Katniss, this is Peeta. I just wanted to know if you got home safe.

From: Katniss 11:47

Hi Peeta. I did thank you for your concern. Sleep Well.

From: Peeta Mellark 11:49

Sweet Dreams, Katniss.

I turn off my phone, not even considering what the message implies. It’s been a long day and the last thing I need to worry about is Peeta and I’s relationship.

I remembered to set my alarm last night, luckily, so I won't be late for work. I am still wearing Peeta’s button up. Slowly, but surely, I get out of bed, shower, and eat breakfast. I turn on the tv, because I need some distraction. Opening the window next to the fire exit, allows for some much needed air into the apartment. A familiar voice draws me out of my mental to do list for today.

Holy Shit.

Peeta is on tv. Why didn't I know about this? I’m his secretary for god’s sake. Caesar Flickerman who hosts Good Morning Panem is asking him questions about everything, from his favorite food to his love life.

“So, Peeta. What's it like being the CEO if such a profitable company?”

“Uh, it’s great. Hard work, but it’s good,” Peeta says with a somber look on his face. I think back to our conversations last night. He never asked to be CEO, but it was thrust upon him like a teacher giving homework.

“That’s awesome, Peeta.” Caesar leans back in his chair preparing to ask the next question. “Tell me, you were just added on “Forbes Top 10″ and given the title of “Panem’s Most Eligible Bachelor”. Anyone out there who catches your eye?”

Peeta has a slight hesitation in his voice before looking the camera in the eye and saying, “No, not really anyone at the moment.”

“Aw, c’mon Peeta. There must be one special someone. You can tell us.” Caesar inquires.

I see Peeta gulp nervously and blink a couple times. “Well, there is this one girl. I’ve loved her since forever, really.”

The audience, including Caesar, perk up at this. “Here’s what you do, buy her some flowers and chocolates and win her heart.”

“She’s not really that type of girl, plus I think she hates me.”

“Ah, well that's too bad,” Caesar shrugs. “Her loss. Am I right folks?”

The audience abounds in laughter and claps. Who is this mystery girl? I mean I hate Peeta, or used too, but it can't be me. Can it? Shaking those thoughts away, I turn off the tv, and grab my jacket and purse. Time to start the day.

***

Peeta’s office is still locked. I’m assuming he is still at Good Morning Panem. These past few days have been, strange. From breaking up with Gale, realizing I don't hate Peeta, and finding out he loves this mystery girl, I just don't know what to expect from this job anymore. My mind can’t process this abundance of, in a way, drama. Hey, I’m anti-social. What can I say?

Sticky notes with phone numbers and lists can be found on almost every surface of my workspace. I try to eliminate the countless number of them as the day drags on. No sign of Peeta. It’s boring without his tacky humor and clever remarks. 

I decide to call Annie to get me out of this slump.

“Hey Katniss! What’s up?” Annie asks. “Peeta likes, no, loves someone and I think it's me. What do I do?” I say shakily, unsure of what to think of all these conflicting emotions.

I hear Annie giggle and then regain her composure. “Hi to you too. And I don’t know, Katniss. Just ask him on a date and if he says yes then he likes you.”

“But, every time I even consider doing something like that with him, I’m brought back to all the times in our childhood when he was just rude and infuriating.” 

“Sounds to me that you might like him back, Katniss. You do know, that when a guy teases you it usually means he likes you. That could explain why he was how he was in middle school and high school,” Annie explains.

It makes sense, but I can’t justify that for his true feelings. The only way to figure this out is to confront him. Crap.

“You have a lot of thinking to do Everdeen. I’ll see you tomorrow for zen, yeah?”

“Yup, thanks Annie for the much needed clarification,” I say gratefully.

“Of course. Anytime, my friend. See ya.”

“Bye,” I hang up.

I go to the closest cafe for my lunch break, needing to get out of the office, and forgo an afternoon pick me up for a sandwich. It’s not as delicious as the sandwiches at Peeta’s bakery, but it does the job of filling my stomach. The bread isn't fresh and the meat was probably cut a week ago, then frozen, and don't even get me started- wait, when did I become a food connoisseur? 

I throw away the trash and walk back to Mellark Enterprises, hit the elevator button for the 8th floor, and continue in my secretary duties. I see Peeta’s office door open and something compels me to talk to him.

“Hey, so I saw you on tv this morning,” I say to a slightly surprised Peeta.

“Uh, yeah,” There he goes rubbing the back of his neck again. “What did you think?”

“You did great, I mean, you always do,” he blushes at this. “Mystery girl, eh? Caesar Flickerman had to bite tooth and nail to get that out of you.”

“She’s something special, indeed. I don’t think she knows I like her,” At this, Peeta gives me puppy dog eyes.

Clearing my throat, I respond, “I was wondering if you were free, possibly tonight? There’s this movie that came out that I’ve been dying to see and wanted to go with a friend.”

“Yeah, I would love to, Katniss.”

“O-Ok cool,” I say as I shoot finger guns at him. Finger guns...really Katniss?

Flustered and slightly embarrassed, I leave the office and sit down at my desk.

***

We meet up at the theatre and head straight for concessions. My stomach grumbles at the savory smell of popcorn and melted butter, salty pretzels and bubbly soda. 

“What do you like Peeta?” I ask him curiously.

“Oh, I myself love a classic bucket of buttered popcorn and M&Ms,” he says confidently.

“Mmm, sound delicious.”

“Do-Do you want to share Katniss?” Peeta inquires me nervously.

“It is a large bucket of popcorn; I don't think I could finish it on my own. Sure, we can share.” I have to remind myself this is not a date. I kinda wish it was though.

Before I even have a chance to get my credit card out, Peeta is already paying for our snacks.

“Peeta!” I scold while hitting his arm jokingly. “I should pay. I invited you, after all.”

“Too late, Katniss,” He says as he taps my nose.

We both look away nervously, embarrassed by our intimate actions.

About halfway through the movie, we stop passing the popcorn bucket and I feel drowsy. I wake up by someone softly calling my name.

“Katniss, Katniss. Time to wake up.”

Quickly, I realize my head is on Peeta’s shoulder and my arms are wrapped around his. How did that happen. 

“I didn't want to wake you. Your slumber looked peaceful, sleeping beauty.” 

“I’m so sorry, Peeta. I swear I didn't mean to fall asleep on your arm,” I apologize.

“It’s ok. You can fall asleep on me any time you need to,” He tells me smiling without a care in the world.

I gasp. “U-Uh, o-ok Peeta. Thank you for the offer.”

On our way out, I turn to him and give him a peck on the cheek. Then, like a cheetah, I dash to my car, leaving Peeta speechless. What is happening to me?!

***

3249 words later and this is the product. Hope you enjoyed!

[everlarkficexchange]

Reflections

Written by: @justajjfan

Beta’d by:  @sunsetsrmydreams

Rating: Mature (for adult themes)

Prompt 54:  Katniss, for some reason, using a car’s window as a mirror not knowing there was someone inside the car because of the window being so heavily tinted. Until Peeta, the owner of the car, rolls down the window. [submitted by @sunflowerslyf]

A/N:  There’s not much to add to this except it’s a one-shot piece and I hope you enjoy reading my little story.

Thank you to @javistg and @xerxia31 for all their hard work and dedication arranging this wonderful event. Thanks to my dear friend and beta @sunsetsrmydreams who is always there for me. And lastly, thank you to @sunflowerslyf  for your wonderful prompt. I had a lot of fun writing this for you. I hope you like it.

~~~~~~~~~~

The sun’s rays filter through the lush, lavender canopy of the giant jacaranda tree, soaking my naked body with delicious warmth. I am so relaxed and utterly contented, the struggle to keep awake seems pointless.

I give in to this luscious feeling and curl my back deeper into the strong arms that belong to the naked body laying behind me. His warm breath across my neck and shoulders and the gentle caress of his fingers up and down my body has me tingling with desire and the feeling keeps me from drifting off to a blissful sleep.

“Does that feel good?” His sultry voice asks.

“Mmmmmm…don’t stop.”

“Okay.” He chuckles. “Just a little longer but then you need to get up; you don’t want to be late today.” He whispers softly in my ear.

“Mmmmmm…just a little longer.” I purr.

Moments seem to pass and I’m suddenly feeling a little cold. I stretch out my body and reach for his arms to warm me.

“I’m cold.” My voice, an embarrassing whimper.

He wraps one arm tightly around my waist and with his free hand, makes quick work of unravelling my braid. Gently, he begins to comb his fingers through my matted hair and I fall deeply into this new and sensual feeling, any effort to suppress a moan of pleasure is lost with each gentle stroke.

Squinting my eyes in the bright sunlight to look at his face, he moves his body over mine to deflect the blinding light. His smile takes my breath away, yet it is his eyes, as blue as the morning sky, that causes my heart to skip a beat. Looking deep into his crystal blue orbs, I see my own reflection looking back at me and I’m suddenly feeling self-conscious about my appearance.

“Ugh! I hate my hair. It must look a mess. Maybe I should just get it all cut off.”

His fingers stop mid-stroke and he looks at me with pleading eyes. “Please don’t. Your hair is perfect.”

He brings his lips to meet mine before I have a chance to disagree but there’s an annoying buzzing sound in the background that is so loud it begins to hurt my ears.

***

I immediately spring up and lunge to the side of my bed and slam my fist at the offending noise. I sweep my hair away from my face and look around, realising that I’m in my tiny flat, alone and it was just a sweet dream. Sighing heavily, I’m left feeling a little disappointed because it seemed so real.

Turning my head back to the flashing numbers on the alarm clock, I try to focus my sleepy eyes on the time. I jump out of bed when I see I needed to be awake, showered, dressed and out the door half an hour ago. I can’t believe I slept passed my alarm.

“No…no…no…no. I can’t be late. Not today!”

I repeat these words as I run to the shower removing my pyjamas along the way; I don’t even have time to wait for the water to heat up before I step in and scrub my body in the tepid water then shampoo my hair as quickly as I can. Thankful at least that I decided on what clothes I am wearing today before I went to bed last night.  

Showering and drying in a matter of minutes, I dress, shove my resume, a hair comb and some lip balm hastily in my handbag then grab my car keys before running out the door. My hair is still dripping wet, but I can braid it and add a touch of make-up in the car during traffic light stops. I paid for parking online, so I just need to turn on my phones’ GPS and be on my way. Hopefully I locked the front door on my way out, but I don’t have time to go back and check. I have nothing worth stealing anyway.

Struggling to make ends meet with two part-time jobs and a university loan, this job is the answer to all my prayers. In my preparations, I made sure to research everything there is to know about Mellark Corporation. I just need to get there on time to have a chance at making a good impression during the interview.

I fumble with the keys and finally get in the car and turn on the ignition waiting for temperamental ‘old Betsy’ to start up. It takes a while for her engine to warm up and today is no different only, she won’t even click over. 

“No…no…no…Not today Betsy…Please start; I promise no more E10 fuel; Just start for me!” I plead with the old rust bucket.

Still nothing and time is only wasting further away. With nothing to lose and everything to gain, I get out of the car and head for the bus stop. If I run fast, I should make the next express bus into the city.   

When I get to the bus stop, the line is long, of course it is, but I’m determined to get on the first bus that arrives. Finally, a little luck comes my way and I manage to step into the ‘standing-room only’ packed bus. I’ll have to wait to fix my hair and makeup when the bus gets to the city but that shouldn’t be a problem.

There’s got to be a ladies’ restroom or something, right?

I look at my watch for the hundredth time when the bus comes to a complete halt. Looking around I can see the large office buildings, but my stop is still a few streets away. The cars, trucks and buses in front are banked up and, in the distance, I can hear sounds of sirens from emergency vehicles.

“Looks like it might be a traffic accident.” I overhear a fellow passenger say.

“Yeah, we could be here for a while…might be quicker to walk.” Another passenger replies.

I watch as several passengers ask the bus driver to open the doors allowing them to disembark and walk the rest of the way. He’s happy to comply if they watch their step getting off the bus. Taking all that I see and hear on board, I estimate how long it would take me to walk the distance and judging by my phone…it’s a brisk 30-minute walk. I just need to find somewhere to stop and fix my hair and make-up.

“Can you leave the door open please? Thank you.” I say to the driver as I step off and away from the bus.

***

“Good morning Peeta.” The sound of my secretary comes through clear on my car’s Bluetooth.

“It started off good Effie, but this traffic is a mood breaker. Have the candidates arrived yet?”

“Yes, 2 of the 3 candidates have already shown up; we have a diva who is not happy about waiting, she keeps giving me dirty looks every time she checks her Rolex. Clearly her time is precious. The other looks like he’s been out all night. His suit is terribly wrinkled, and I can literally smell beer from my desk! What do you want me to tell them?”

I press the mute button and laugh at Effie’s summarisation of the candidates waiting to be interviewed for the marketing position. When my former Chief Marketing Officer and friend Annie got married and moved across the country, her chosen replacement left an opening in the team and the job hopefuls are outside my office right now…and I’m stuck here.

“There’s not much I can do from here Effie. The Police are stopping all traffic from moving forward. It must be a bad car accident if they’re doing that. Everyone seems to be pulling over to the side so I’m just going to do the same and wait it out for a bit. I might even grab a coffee. Apologise to the candidates on my behalf and ask if we can re-schedule their interviews for this afternoon.”

Confident that Effie will handle the situation with her usual charm and poise, I hang up from our call and settle in the car to catch up on emails and maybe read copies of the resumes Effie just sent me. Waiting for my laptop to start up, I take a moment to stare out of the window and people watch, knowing that no one can see me through the heavily-tinted glass.

A lean figure of a woman walks up directly in front of my window and reaches for something from her handbag and I’m just about to wind down the window when she begins to comb her beautiful long black hair. My heartbeat quickens as I watch her braid and un-braid her hair. She seems to be arguing with herself, unable to make up her mind which looks better. Braid or no braid and in that moment, I am mesmerised.

***

I’m about 4 minutes into my walk to the Mellark Building when I spot a parked car with darkened windows. Perfect! It’s squeaky clean and I can see my refection so clearly. Looks like someone cares about their car.

I reach for the lip balm first then grab my comb and start to comb out the knots in my hair. Braiding it seems like the best solution.

“Go for the neat and tidy look.” I say to no one, looking deep into my reflection.

“No, it looks too girlish. Out…I should wear it out.” I think better of it and start to remove the hair tie.

“No…it looks too…I don’t even know what it looks like!” I huff.

“Ugh! Maybe I should just cut it all off!” I shout in frustration.

The sound of the car window sliding down leaves me frozen and I am unable to move my legs. A man stares at me with blue eyes and a smile that would light up your darkest day.

“Please don’t! Your hair is perfect.”

I gawk at him and sputter. “Uh…Thanks. I’m late for an interview and I was just trying to-”

His smile widens. “Well, if you’re late, I’m certain they are too. Why don’t you give them a call and explain the situation? I’m sure they’ll understand.”

Looking down the clogged street and footpaths hopelessly, I agree with this stranger’s sound advice. I need this job, and I’ll have no chance at all if I don’t let them know that I’ve been held up.     

I grab my phone and call the secretary who surprisingly, is more than happy to move my interview to later in the day. I thank her and hang up, turning my attention back to the handsome man in the car.

“My interview has been changed to 3pm.” Relief washes over me and I can’t help the wide grin on my face.

“Great! I was just going to get some coffee.” He points to a small café down the way. “Would you like to join me?” 

“Yes. Yes, I would.”

He swings open the door and throws himself out. The movement is quick and ungraceful, and I can’t quiet my chuckle.

With a hint of a blush heating his cheeks, he straightens his jacket and offers me his hand. “Peeta.”

I take his warm hand in mine. “Katniss.”

***

A year later…

“Katniss wake up.” Peeta says as he lays soft kisses on my neck.

“Noooo…Just 5 more minutes.” I moan as I cuddle closer to him.

“Okay.” He chuckles and kisses my bare shoulder before whispering softly in my ear. “Just a little longer but then we need to get up; you don’t want to be late today.”

“It is our wedding day after all.”

The end!

[ultimavolatusrpg]

ACCEPTED // MARGOT NOVAK

21 years old, 91st Hunger Games, FC: Dakota Fanning

Wallflower, Ambitious, Fractured, Easily-Influenced, Detached

tw: extreme violence, abuse, death, mentions of prostitution

ARENA:

A complicated system of underground sewers and subways and tunnels, Margot’s arena was entirely underground. The Cornucopia was in the middle of the complex web, a large atrium where the tunnels emptied mysterious green sludge and the monstrosities they called mutts: oversized rats with poison bites, electronic flies that sucked blood. As a Career, Margot was mostly spared from crawling through the narrowest of the tunnels, opting to stay close to the Cornucopia until it was necessary to begin “hunting.” The lack of hiding places made for a relatively short games, leading to a week and a half of chases through the tunnels after an errant noise was heard echoing down the narrow passageways. 

Margot Novak entered into the arena with her boyfriend, Carian Vox,  though the two of them decided against playing up the “star-crossed-lovers” angle and only revealed an emotional connection to each other once in the arena itself. While in the arena, Margot gained her reputation for being strange in a slightly off-putting way: many watchers commented that the detached and calm way she watched the arena was one of the more memorable parts of the games. 

And what she watched? Her boyfriend going completely and totally savage.  Inspired by the crownless games that happened when they were too young to remember it, Carion wanted to show what the natural conclusion of the Career’s was: unprecedented blood and gore. 

Long before the 91st arena, he roped in Margot, whose ambitions had turned from winning the games to doing whatever Carian wanted. She would drop anything, do anything, spend any money, be any person if she knew it would make Carian smile. So, when he was sixteen and he was eighteen, they volunteered in tandem. Prior to the games, they seemed run-of-the-mill Career tributes, intense and tough but ultimately forgettable, forgettable, forgettable. Until. The bloodbath wasn’t overly fatal, ten deaths in total, but what Carian did before the Capitol could bring up their bodies was unspeakable. He went savage. Think tearing flesh, think cracking bones. Blood gets in your mouth. 

The Capitol liked their blood sports, but they considered themselves civilized: subjecting the entire country to unnecessary mutilation did not go over well with the gamemakers. The Career pack broke up and Margot and Carian received no more support from sponsors, which was a delight to Carian, since this meant it was working: he was disturbing the country. Maybe next they would t h i n k.

Margot had a total of five kills in the games, nothing to scoff at, but she kept the theatrics to Carian. She would be a silent, detached watcher as he shocked the country. Blue eyes looking but not watching. Sometimes, the blood would splatter, stain her pale smooth skin. 

Of course, they killed him. They had to kill him. They weren’t going to have a psychopath for a victor. But he had Margot looking out for him, Margot as his good luck charm, he said. She pulled him out of the way of falling pipes, killed mutts that seemed to lust after his blood and only his blood. But the gamemakers decide what becomes of the games, and luck doesn’t last forever. It ended with her, Carian, and a pair of allies from the outer districts. They were going to let them win. She and Carian didn’t want to win, that wasn’t the point. They had made their point. They were going to let them win. But they killed Carian first, and the girl laughed when she did it. She was so relieved, she killed him with a smile on her face, and something inside Margot S N A P P E D.

The plan was to not fight either of them, the plan was to stand defiant and proud, but instead Margot tackled the girl bodily and slit her throat quickly, kicking her aside and then going for the boy, even while her mind told her to stop, to let him live. She didn’t do that. A  knife through the boy’s eye, throat and chest, fifteen, twenty, thirty times. It was to be the icon of his games, Margot not stopping when the cannon went off, or when they started playing the song, or when the Gamemaker’s voice sounded over the empty arena. Margot Novak didn’t stop fighting. 

Until she did. 

BIOGRAPHY:

MARGOT NOVAK

It’s been five years since Margot Novak was lifted into the sky as she scraped at the empty air, desperate to stay on the ground. 

It’s been five years since Margot Novak had a clear purpose, a destiny. 

It’s been a long five years. 

***

Margot’s father, Abraham, had a simple enough job. He was a Peacekeeper, had always been a Peacekeeper, and was very good at his job. He rose through the ranks, and pretty soon his reputation precedes him.  That reputation, among those who knew him, was not unlike a hammer. When a district stepped out of line–low productivity rates, ripplings of uprising, low morale–he would take over as the head Peacekeeper for a short stint, remind the citizens of the district how good they had it. Cue the public whippings, the crackdowns on black markets, complete lockdown of the district. He was known for his cruelty. His youngest daughter Margot didn’t view him as cruel, though. More of a challenge. As with everything else he was and did in life, Margot’s father was withholding, strict, uncompassionate, and unclear about expectations or instructions. That had just pushed her to impress him. A warmer man wouldn’t have asked anything of her. Abraham asked the world, and Margot was determined to meet it with the sort of intensity found only in little girls. Small and wispy stature be damned, Margot threw herself into the rigorous training of the career academy, not letting anything distract her from her ultimate goal, no,d e s t i n y , of joining District Two’s storied victors. 

Well, almost anything. 

Carian Vox was two years her senior, with dark curls framing his face and cow eyes so sweet and sincere that had the unfortunate habit of making Margot feel like she was melting. It wasn’t the eyes she fell in love with, though. It was the head behind them. Carian Vox was one of the top recruits at the Academy, but he didn’t idolize the old Victors like everybody else. He didn’t want to bring glory to his District, or win riches for himself. He wanted to make a point. His heroes were secret, a hidden sign he held in his heart, the three-note song of the Mockingjay. Despite the overwhelming pressure building up around the country that sometimes seemed centered in Two, Carian believed in Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark. He was revolutionary-minded, smart and ambitious, with a big heart that yearned for justice, for freedom. 

He was also a bit  insane.  

(Poor Margot, she doesn’t even realize that now.)

Margot fell in love with his philosophies, his ideas, his dreams. She tied her’s to his. Carian’s dream was this: The Crownless Games showed Panem the cruelty of what happened to the tributes from the Outer Districts, who never even have a chance at anything: not love, not hope, not life. It took the Capitol’s methods to their natural conclusion. And that he did, dying in the arena for his display for gruesomeness. Margot had planned on dying with him, that was the plan that didn’t happen, and Margot found herself a Victor, alive when she hadn’t exactly meant to be.

It seems that Margot left her fight in the arena, at least where the Capitol’s concerned. Immediately following the games, she was questioned by the Gamemakers on what, exactly, was the point of all the violence: had she and Carian simply gone mad? Were the bloodthirsty monsters created by the training academies, or was there something else? Whatever the cause, they made it clear in no uncertain terms that any subversion of the Capitol’s will would not end well for her.

 Margot’s not an idiot, and she hasn’t gone insane, despite what some reports may claim. She’s weighed her options. She’s realized how good she has it. Carian talked of rampant poverty, of murdered children, of corruption, but none of that applied to Margot, not anymore. She lived in a big, beautiful house in the Capitol. She was waited on by avoxes, she never had to worry about money, about work, about anything. Sure, sometimes she had to “entertain” the occasional visitor, but that’s a small and managable torture. A revolution would be worse, and wouldn’t work–God knows Carian’s didn’t. It didn’t change anything at all. She’s chalked up that belief to the blind optimism of youth–her love for Carian was real, the only real thing she’s ever felt, but the dream is dead.

And with Carian dead, she feels like half of her soul has been ripped out at the seams, and she’s unmoored, unsure of her place in this strange new world where she is alive and he is not. She feels amputated and hemophilic, a wound that won’t stop bleeding, will never heal. 

And the Capitol has taken advantage of her passivity. They’ve turned her into a tool, a small weapon of war. After the arena, Margot just wanted to be protected, wanted to continue unbothered by change, after the first sixteen years of her life had been marked by it. They offered her protection, for a price: among the other activities expected of Victors, she has also become something of a little bird for the Capitol: nothing serious, nothing dangerous. But she’s surrounded by Victors, she’s one of them. They trust her, as much as any Victor can trust. So, when something seems off–a rogue comment or complaint, strange behavior–she lets the Capitol know. 

Maybe it made a traitor to her people. A coward. But it also made her safe.

PENNED BY: BRIDG

[jlalafics]

I have a prompt request please! Competitive themed number 5!!!! I love your drabbles! Warm regards :)

I hope you enjoy, anon, because I adored writing this!

______

5. we’re always making stupid bets like ‘bet you can’t drink this whole bottle of BBQ sauce’ but then you did and now you’re sick and I feel really bad here let me look after you

 It was their thing.

These stupid bets.

For as long as she and Peeta Mellark had been friends, they were always making bets with one another. In elementary school, it was a bet that she could land farther than him jumping off the swings—the scar from smashing onto the tanbark ground was now a faded mark on her chin. In high school, it was who could jump over more hurdles on the track—he still complained how his left testicle hasn’t been the same since taking the infamous tumble.

When she’s pissed, Katniss calls him ‘One-ball Mellark’.

Now, as she sits on a painfully uncomfortable chair in the ER waiting room, Katniss Everdeen can’t help but wonder if they’ve taken their bets too far.

++++++

Peeta was moving out of his apartment and into a townhouse closer to the newly opened Mellark Bakery; the business that he had literally built from the ground up. They were cleaning out his fridge when they discovered a bottle of BBQ sauce that Marvel, his roommate, had left after moving in with his longtime girlfriend.

Katniss opened it and took a whiff of the sharp-smelling sauce. “Wow, that’s potent.” She handed the bottle to Peeta, who was next to the trash bag. “I bet you can’t drink this whole bottle.”

“I have an iron stomach, Katniss,” Peeta responded and she grimaced at his arrogance. However, despite being an egotistical little snit, he was ridiculously handsome with golden waves and dark blue eyes, so arrogance worked for him. He grabbed the bottle from her and took a sniff. “I’ll do it.”

She snorted. “Yeah, right.”

“If I win, you owe me a favor—no questions asked,” he told her. Peeta held out his hand. “Go on. Shake it…unless you’re not sure you’ll win.”

Katniss cocked a brow before taking his hand and shaking it firmly. “Deal.”

Peeta grinned, bottle in his hand. “Cheers.”

And, she watched him gulp that whole damn thing down.

Less than a minute later, Peeta doubled over onto the floor.

++++++

“Is there a Katniss Everdeen here?”

Katniss looked up at the woman in blue scrubs standing before her.

“Is Peeta alright?” she asked, shooting up from seat.

“I’m Doctor Paylor, one of the ER doctors.” They quickly shook hands as they headed down the hallway. “Your boyfriend had a bad reaction to one of the spices in the BBQ sauce,” the woman explained. “It was a good thing that you brought the bottle with you.” She led Katniss to a set of doors and scanned her badge. The doors opened and they walked through. “He should be fine in a day or two. I’m going to prescribe bismuth subsalicylate to keep him comfortable.”

Katniss looked to her anxiously. “What is that?”

“It’s basically Pepto Bismol.” The woman led her to a curtain and they entered to find a pale faced Peeta. “It won’t be pretty coming out. So, for the next few days, try to keep him comfortable.”

“Katniss?” The pathetic call came from Peeta’s colorless lips.

“Peeta!” She rushed over to him, taking his hand. “Are you okay?”

He gave her a weak smile, squeezing her hand. “You owe me a favor.”

“Yes, of course!” Katniss wiped the ridiculously tears leaking from her eyes. “Anything.”

“Marry me.”

She stiffened. “What?”

Behind her, the doctor who had been reading over Peeta’s vitals gasped.

“You owe me a favor—no questions asked,” Peeta insisted, his eyes staring up at her; the paleness of his pallor made his blues blindingly bright.

“This is ridiculous,” Katniss reasoned. “We’ve never…you’ve never said…”

“You’re questioning whether or not, I’m in love with you?” His gaze went fierce. “I may not say the words, but I’ve felt them everyday since I’ve known you. Since you faceplanted on the playground, who gave you the ointment for that scar on your chin? I used all of my allowance money for that!”

“We were children,” she argued. “You couldn’t have possibly fallen in love with me when we were kids.”

“Children can be capable of a wide range of emotions, including love. I’ve always been sure. Isn’t it why you’ve spent most of our relationship calling me arrogant?”

“Fuck Peeta.” Her voice had gone full watery. “Why the hell would you want to marry me?”

“Because when we were ten, you made me a bet and I intend to win,” he replied hoarsely.

Katniss straightened up. “And, what bet was that?”

“You bet that I wouldn’t never need you,” he replied. “But I do need you. I need you to love me. I need you to take care of me for the next few days and I hope for the rest of our lives like I’ll take care of you. I need you to have my children—whenever you get it out of your head that you’ll never want children.”

“I won’t change my mind about kids—”

“And, I need you to marry me because I love you and I think underneath all the stubbornness and annoyance with me, you love me too.” He looked at her pleadingly. “I thought that I was going to die today and all I could think about is that I’m never going to get the chance to spend the rest of my life with my best friend, Katniss Everdeen.”

“That’s a little melodramatic,” she replied quietly.

“The pain was blinding,” Peeta argued. He smiled nervously. “So, what do you think?”

Katniss sighed, her mouth in a thin line as she looked him over.

They had never talked about their relationship; there had always been love there and she had never been able to explain how no one could comfort her, anger her, excite her like Peeta did. He was her constant, the comfortable blanket that she could wrap herself in for comfort, and he was her shield when she needed to be exceptionally brave.

God help her, she needed him too.

“Doctor.” Katniss turned to the woman, who had just witnessed the life-altering moment and was now trying to hide her tears. “Is he discharged?”

“As soon as you sign off to be his caretaker, I’ll write up his prescription,” Dr. Paylor replied.

“Okay.” Katniss turned to man, covering his hand with hers. Peeta beamed, color returning to his cheeks. “I’ll take care of him.”

“I-I’ll go write that prescription,” came the doctor’s wavering reply before disappearing.

Lowering the railing, Katniss crawled in next to him, her head going to his chest as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“Do you want to make a bet?” he asked, lips against her temple.

Katniss looked up to him, her hand reaching to cup his cheek.

That cocky little grin that made her heart race returned. “I bet that I’m a better kisser than you.”

She always loved a challenge.

“You’re on.”

FIN.

[everlarkchristmasgifts]

A/N I had a super hard time with this one and any sort of fluidity, so sorry if it’s come out garbled: It felt like trying to untangle my hair after a night of tossing and turning, and I didn’t want to ask anyone to beta read on Christmas Eve so I finally just gave up and hit submit.

Part Two for the Pasty White Raisin Follow Up Christmas Drabbles done for @everlarkchristmasgifts. Part One is here.

Rating: T

_______________

Eleven Days to Christmas - Secret Santa Exchange

The clang of the bell over the door brought Peeta out from the back of the bakery.  The customer already had his face glued to the case with the day’s remaining cinnamon rolls.  They were each the size of plates, and covered with syrup glaze and walnut halves.

“Can I help you?”

“Yeah. You can tell me whether it’s possible to have an sugar crash that’s existential, or if it’s just a thought in my head.”

“Sorry?”

The guy laughed at his own joke and came over to the counter. He looked friendly, but also exuded a confidence that made Peeta, run down as he was, feel less so.

“Are there walnuts inside those? Or just on the top?”

“Walnuts throughout.”

“Walnuts throughout,” the man parroted with an appreciative nod. “I like you. Walnuts throughout.”

When he didn’t say or do anything else, Peeta cleared his throat and suggested, “Do you want me to box one up for you?”

“Maybe. I’m looking for Peter.”

“You mean Peeta.”

“Ah, Peet-ah. He’s got the Boston thing going on!”

Peeta tried to smile, but smiling was hard. Too many orders, too many hours. Too old of a story. Rue usually worked part time, but had needed two extra days off that week because of finals. Thom was still technically full time, but he’d been out sick on and off for the last two months because his mother was ill. Cashmere had quit right before Thanksgiving. And Katniss…

Well, he’d run Katniss off.

The last two days the operation had been a solo show.

“Actually, it is ‘Peeta,’ not Peter. And that’s me. I know, blame my parents.” He needed to get back to work. “What can I do for you?”

The man gave him an appraising once over that bordered on invasive, followed by a nod of approval. “So you’re the one.  I can see it. I can totally see it.”

Peeta cleared his throat and shifted a little on his feet.

“Uh… The one what?”

“Katniss’ ‘There can be only One.’ Aside from me, of course.”

Peeta’s back stiffened.

“And you are?”

The man didn’t notice, or wasn’t phased, by Peeta’s abrupt gruffness.

“Handsome. Funny. Amazingly talented. I go by many names. In previous times, I was referred to as ‘God’s gift to women.’ But alas, now that I’m on the road to a lifetime of sweet monogamy, I go by the unassuming alter-ego Finnick Odair.” He held his hand out over the counter, joking grin giving way to an earnest smile and a lower-key manner. “Hi, good to meet you. I work with Katniss at the brewery. I’m the one she always gets your everything bagels for.”

“She’s mentioned you.”

Peeta crossed his arms but Finnick kept his hand extended until it was rude to not shake it, so he used a stronger grip than necessary.

“Road to monogamy with…Ann?” Peeta didn’t look away from Finnick for a millisecond, squeezing his hand tighter. “Or was it Annie?”

“Wow, ice, ice, baby. You sure there isn’t a Peter back there?” Finnick squeezed back, hard. “‘Cause to hear Katniss, you’re, and I quote, ‘warm and amazing,’ not Mr. I-Might-Murder-You-Where-You-Stand. And yes, it’s Annie, definitely not Katniss, if that’s what your grip is asking, so,” Finnick stared pointedly at their hands then back up, “release the hostage; it comes in peace.”

Peeta held on for an extra few beats, then released.

“Thanks.” Finnick cracked his knuckles. “Not that I don’t enjoy holding your hand, but really, I don’t enjoy holding your hand.”

Peeta smiled apologetically. “Sorry. Christmas season makes for long baking days and grumpy bakers.  Did Katniss send you to talk to me?”

“About what?”

When Peeta didn’t respond, Finnick studied him, eyes narrowing.

“Interesting.”

“What?”

“You thought I might be making a move on Katniss. Katniss hasn’t been bringing me my bagels. You think Katniss might have sent an emissary.”  He stared until Peeta reddened. “You two have had a fight that she hasn’t let on about, haven’t you?”

Peeta stared down at the worn linoleum tiles. They muttered at him about unionizing if they didn’t get better mop and wax benefits.

Finnick hmmm’d.

“So that’s why she’s been ultra reclusive lately. And here I assumed she was just having her traditional end-of-year wigout about breakage losses.”

Peeta forced himself to look back up.

“So does that mean she didn’t send you?”

“No, she didn’t.” Finnick was still analyzing him. “You know, I’d say it’s none of my business, but she’s Annie’s best friend and the closest thing I have to a sister, so really it is. What’d she do?”

“Excuse me?”

“What did she do? Shut down on you? Annie and I were worried that might happen. She avoids relationships like a golfer avoids water traps, and with how happy she’s been, we’ve both been worried she might try a runner.”

“A runner?”

“She might seem like she’s got the emotional stuntage of coal, but behind the scowl and the lasso of bookkeeping truth, she’s actually really nice… and also terrified of losing people.”

Peeta cleared his throat. “Look, I appreciate your concern, but it’s my business and hers.”

“Hang on…” Finnick’s staring was approaching full on x-ray power.  

Peeta found a rag and started wiping at the counter nervously to avoid it.

“It wasn’t her, it was you. What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything. And it’s a private.”

“Nope, you don’t get to do that. Not where it concerns Katniss. You’ll have the entire Tribute Brewery Suicide Squad coming down on you if you break her. And trust me, you don’t want to face Mason’s interrogation techniques.”

“Mason?”

“Johanna.”

“Is that ‘Jo,’ the assistant brewmaster?”

“Yeah.”

Peeta stopped wiping the counter, and looked up.

“Shaved head, leather collar, and a tattoo of Wile E. Coyote holding a stick of dynamite that’s about to go off?”

Finnick cocked an eyebrow. “You two’ve met?”

Peeta shook his head and took a few extra wipes with his rag before standing upright and tossing it onto the counter. He crossed his arms and relaxed enough to laugh a little.

“Naw. But Katniss showed me a picture once of Jo pretending to mount one of the vats.”

Finnick cracked a laugh. “Christmas party last year. We all remember, unfortunately. And she almost got fired for it.”

“Does that mean it was a tamer Christmas Party this year?”

Finnick laughed. “If you think the threat of being fired would tame Jo, you’ve definitely never actually met her.” After a few seconds, he leaned forward on the counter, tone lowered to something more serious, but also more open, “Look, we know about you and obviously you know about us. Even Haymitch calls you ‘The Boy,’ which means you have the official seal of approval. But even though we keep expecting an engagement announcement, every time we try to goad her into bringing you by, Kat claims you’re too busy.  So what’s the real reason you’re afraid of meeting us?”

Peeta stared down again at the linoleum.

“I’m not. I haven’t been. I just work crazy hours, and my schedule doesn’t fit with a normal person’s.”

“Baloney. She thinks you’re the greatest thing since— What’s that guy she likes on t.v.?”

“Which one?”

“She’s always yakking about with Annie after a new episode airs. He saves businesses or something.”

“Marcus? I think?”

“Yeah.” Finnick picked a half donut hole from a sample plate by the register and popped it in his mouth. “She thinks you’re the greatest thing since Mr. Marcus, and if that’s true, then over the course of a year, you’d have found time to meet us at least once. What’s really the hangup?”

“Listen, I appreciate that you’re trying to help—”

“Man, I’m proposing to Annie Christmas Eve. If there’s a blind date program for grooms to find best men, you and I have already been enrolled, so we might as well accept the arranged bro-marriage Annie and Katniss have negotiated for us and move on to the deep stuff.”

Peeta hesitated.

“Look, just looking at you it’s clear you need a break, a shave, and a good roll in the sack. Which,” he took another half donut hole, “Katniss needs, too, if for no other reason than it might get her off my back about that over-order of glassware I made last week. But more than that, you look like you need a pep talk. Katniss wouldn’t fall for a loser, so tell Mr. Odair what you did, and he’ll help you figure out how to smooth things over.”

“There’s no ‘smoothing things over.’”

“Kat still has a selfie of you two as her desktop background at work. Trust me, we can get you back in the clear.”

Peeta sighed and slumped his shoulders.

“If you didn’t come here because of Katniss and me to begin with, why are you here?”

“I miss my everything bagel. And Annie likes the sea salt ones.”

Peeta frowned. “Aside from the baked good.”

“Ah, well, see… I’m a man in need of advice. I drew Katniss’ name in the Secret Santa bag today.”

“And?”

“Annie said I’m on my own, and the only thing that comes to mind when I think of Katniss and gifts is a run to the office supply store for a stack of ledger books and fine-point Sharpies.”

“You want help buying her a gift.” Peeta wasn’t convinced.

“Yes. She doesn’t hardly drink, doesn’t go out, doesn’t have any hobbies that I’m aware of except for stalking Bambi in the woods with her bow and watching CNBC. And pretty much as far as we can tell, the only social things she does outside of work or her time with Haymitch is what we force her to do, or,” he added with meaning, “the time she spends in the company of ‘Pee-tah,’ her favorite, local, friendly neighborhood baker-man.” Finnick’s grin went wide enough to give Peeta’s own dimples a run for their money. “My real talent lies in buying lingerie. But I’m pretty sure if I bought Katniss a naughty Mrs. Claus nightie, none of us would be comfortable at Christmas ever again. Well, except for maybe Johanna. So,” he rubbed his hands together, “throw a man a life line.”

Peeta glared a little, then pulled a box flat from under the counter, folded it up, and went to retrieve one of the cinnamon rolls, then got a paper bag, went back to the baskets along the back wall and put in two everything and two sea salt bagels.  

“Have you heard of Sweet Pete’s,” he asked, after he slid the box and bag across the counter to Finnick.

“That high-end candy place over on 4th?”

“Yeah. Katniss always seems to like going there. Maybe a gift card.”

Finnick nodded. “Thanks. What else? It’s a twenty dollar limit, but she went above and beyond yesterday  helping me get the perfect present for Annie. And, she dug into her own wallet to make it happen, so I’d like to go a bit extra.”

“There’s that archery store there in the mall she loves.  Maybe they’d have something to suggest. Like some sort of bow wax or something.”

“What are you getting her for Christmas?”

Peeta ducked his head over the register to ring up the order, not offering an answer.

“A ring would be a good idea.  Speaking of,” Finnick pulled his wallet out and put a twenty down to cover the bill, “when are you and Katniss finally gonna do it?”

“Uh…” Peeta took the twenty and keyed in the cash. The drawer popped open.

“Well?”

Peeta cleared his throat, made change, then closed the register’s drawer with quiet push. “I’m not exactly in the habit of discussing bedroom matters with people I barely know.”

“Well, getting married is a lot more than…”

They stared at each other, Peeta looking uncomfortable.

Finnick’s mouth slowly twisted into a grin.

Peeta went red.

“You mean to tell me that you two haven’t even…” Finnick laughed so hard he could barely talk, his words eventually came out bookended with wheezes, “And yet somehow she’s always contented and glowing when she talks about you. Man, you need to tell me what you put in your baked goods, ‘cause it took me two years just to get Annie to trust me enough to go out on a date.”

“Anyway,” Peeta cleared his throat and handed Finnick his change, “I need to get back to cleaning up in the back. I hope you find something good for Katniss.”

“Wow. Andy Stitzer.” Finnick was still trying to catch his breath from laughing. “You really are her ‘There can be only One,’ aren’t you?”

Once he managed to fight down his amusement, he gave Peeta a nod of genuine admiration.

“Look, you talk to Katniss, I’ll talk to Katniss. Trust me when I say she’s not the kind of woman who keeps a guy in bad graces just for the drama of it. We’ll work it out.”

Peeta hesitated.

“I’m the one who ended it.”

Finnick’s smile faded.

“What do you mean ‘ended it?’”

__________

When he finally came to the end of his very long day, Peeta found a second present waiting at his apartment door.