#the idea basically is that most of the echoes are the “better versions” of rue

[gloobo-gleebus]

back on my rue bullshit

anyways as an echo knight, the idea (right now) is that the echoes don’t actually listen to rue because they fucking hate her. to them, this is kinda just a pathetic version of themselves. whatever actions the echoes take is just what that version of rue would do, as they wouldn’t listen to what rue tells them to do anyways

[hutchhitched]

High Heels at Midnight

Written by: @hutchhitched​

Prompt 134: Visual Prompt. To see it go HERE [submitted by @javistg​]

Ratings/Warnings: Rated T for innuendo, sexual tension, and mild language

A/N: As with many other authors, I didn’t get my @everlarkficexchange​ stories submitted prior to the deadlines in April and May due to 2020 being abysmal and my muse taking a very long vacation. My apologies for the delay, but I’m excited to bring this one to you, especially since it’s for @javistg​, who’s worked tirelessly to bring this exchange to the fandom. You are amazing! I hope this interpretation of the prompt brings you joy.

 “So, here’s the real question,” Peeta murmured in her ear as she took another sip of champagne. “How many of these people are going to last past 10:30?”

 Katniss surveyed the ballroom and narrowed her eyes at the crowd. Everybody was there. Finnick and Annie were across the room swaying together in the corner instead of cutting up the dance floor. That had to be because of Annie’s anxiety and not Finnick’s propensity to be the life of every party. Haymitch held down his end of the bar while Effie attempted to curtail his alcohol consumption. Gale and Johanna disappeared down the hall in the direction of the bathrooms but not without groping each other inappropriately at least five times first. Madge waved from across the way as her boyfriend fed her a bite of cake, and the happy couple, Thresh and Rue moved from table to table as they greeted their wedding guests and thanked them for coming.

 “Not too many. Haymitch is halfway to drunk, at least one couple is about to have sex in the bathroom, and my feet hurt so badly, I might have to kill someone if they make me stand up for another ten minutes.”

 He chuckled, a gloriously beautiful sound that made her heart swell in her chest and wonder how in the hell her best friend was the most gorgeous human she’d ever met. His blue eyes glinted with humor, and the smile splitting his face made her stomach do a little flip. He slung his arm around her shoulders and tugged her over to their table. Without a word, he sank onto a chair and then settled her in his lap.

 “I’m gonna make an executive decision here,” he said with a motion to her feet. “Take them off.”

 “Go barefoot at the classiest wedding since Mayor Snow’s niece rented out the ballroom in the Plaza? I don’t think that’s the best idea,” she declined with a shake of her head. “I did promise Rue I’d be on my best behavior.”

 He shifted under her, and her face flushed at the feeling of his crotch under her silk and g-string not-really-covered ass. “What are you doing?”

 Peeta lifted her right leg, yanked off her shoe, and tossed it under the table before moving to the other one. “I’m taking these bullshit shoes off you. I’m tired of being the date of the most boring woman here.”

 “I’m not boring!” she protested, but he didn’t even bother to listen to her.

 “We’ve done nothing but stand around and watch everybody else. I’m done with that shit. Let’s dance.” He hauled her onto the parquet floor, pulled her to him, and led her in a vigorous, almost athletic, swing dance that left her breathless. After that, he guided her in a waltz, and then (to her complete surprise), he broke out his club moves and got down to a G-rated version of what she knew was an extremely X-rated hip hop song. It was halfway through watching him grind his hips against hers that she decided she not only needed to escape to the bathroom but really needed to get the hell away from him before she threw him down on the floor and ruined Thresh and Rue’s wedding, her dress, and both their reputations.

 “Nice moves out there, Everdeen,” Johanna said with a lascivious smirk as she stood washing her hands at a neighboring sink. “You’ve got some rhythm, but Mellark’s buns shake like a bowl full of jelly. I’d eat that all day long if I had a chance.”

 Katniss glanced over at the other woman and rolled her eyes. “Didn’t you just get your rocks off with Gale? Can’t you leave my best friends alone?”

 “Don’t hate. Gale and you have barely talked since you decided Mellark was more your speed. You can’t blame a girl for taking what’s offered when it’s in the form of tall, dark, handsome, and broody.”

 “For love of all things, Jo. I don’t really want to know what you two get up to. You don’t have to share every thought in your head.”

 Johanna turned toward her and cocked her black leather clad hip against the counter. She ran her hands through her spiky black hair and perused Katniss and down. It was clear she found the green taffeta bridesmaid dress and Katniss herself severely wanting.

 “You know, if my best friend looked like Peeta, was as kind and considerate as he is, and had been in love with me for the past two decades, I’d take advantage of that shit. Maybe you should stop thinking so hard and just go for it tonight. It’s an open bar. Drink some more, get a little tipsy, and bed that man before he loses his patience and moves onto someone who actually appreciates his package.”

 “I appreciate him!” she protested, but Johanna snorted.

 “You appreciate that he’s your default plus one, changes burned out lightbulbs, and cooks you dinner while he willingly keeps you company every Saturday night instead of going out to the clubs to find another woman. You appreciate that package, but he’s got another one that needs some attention. That is, before his own arm falls off from jerking himself while he waits for you to figure out you’re meant for each other.”

 Katniss’ mouth fell open at the other woman’s words. Peeta had been her best friend for so long that she’d become immune to the whispers and side-eyes they received from people who didn’t believe they were actually affectionate to each other because they enjoyed spending time with each other and weren’t primarily focused on jumping into bed together. Johanna’s blatant discussion of her relationship with Peeta was a bit off-putting. If she were being honest with herself, Katniss was a little shaken up at the overtly sexualized language about her platonic best friend.

 If she were actually being completely honest, she’d admit she was turned the hell on at the thought of jumping her best friend’s bones and seeing the pert little ass Johanna seemed to regard so highly. See it naked, that is. Or jiggling like jelly? Or something. She’d kind of lost her train of thought thinking about Peeta’s butt.

 “Close your mouth, Everdeen. You two are the only ones who won’t admit you’re in love with each other. The rest of us have been aware for a long time.”

 “But I’m not—”

 “Yeah, you are.”

 “But I’m not!”

 “You are.”

 “Well, even if I was, he’s not—”

 “He is.”

 “Noooooooo! He’s not.”

 “He really is.”

 “He’s… But— Fuuuuuuuuuck!”

 She almost laughed when she heard herself. Her expletive reeked of shock and discovery and so much hope it almost scared her. Who would have known a trip to the bathroom would be so enlightening? It almost made it worth it to have her shoes back on. They were still killing her.

 “Go get your man, woman!” Johanna ordered and pushed Katniss out of the bathroom.

 Music from the DJ echoed down the hall causing her eardrums to thrum and her heart to beat erratically. Or perhaps it wasn’t the music. Maybe it was the sudden realization that the man she’d spent almost every day of her life with for the past several years wasn’t just the person she trusted with her secrets and called when she was having a bad day. He was absolutely her best friend, but he was also the man with whom she was head over heels, desperately, and completely in love.

 Almost numb with the discovery, she drifted down the hall and back to their table. She sank into a chair and toed off her shoes while her head spun. A new song started, a driving, poppy beat, that she loved, and he materialized suddenly in front of her with his hand out and a beatific smile plastered on his face. She stumbled against him when he hauled her to standing, and their torsos brushed together. She savored the sparks of electricity and the way his eyes shone with appreciation. His mouth was so red, she bit her bottom lip just to keep from biting his.

 “Come on, Everdeen. This is our song!”

 They took the dance floor by storm, and she laughed riotously as he twirled and spun her around the room. Song after song passed as the guests slipped away. Before she knew it, it was almost midnight and the newly married couple escaped in a hail of bubbles and well wishes.

 “Drink for the road?” Peeta asked and motioned toward the bar. She nodded and allowed him to pull her over to that side of the room and order them both two fingers of whiskey. She’d had quite a bit of champagne earlier, but it didn’t seem to be hitting her too hard. It must have been the amount of dancing they’d done. Taking the glass offered to her, she tossed it back and grinned when Peeta suggested another round.

 “Don’t mind if I do,” she said with a grin and leaned into him.

 “Better watch it. I might have to carry you home.”

 Emboldened by the feel of his warm chest against her bare shoulder, she downed her second drink while looking at him through her lashes. She shivered when his throat bobbed, and she motioned for one more refill.

 “I kind of don’t want to think anymore tonight,” she admitted and closed her eyes as the whiskey loosened her muscles and relaxed her limbs. She snorted when she realized she’d basically just had four shots of whiskey and was eagerly awaiting five and six. She always had such tight control over her emotions and actions, but after her chat with Johanna in the bathroom, she really wanted to see how things evolved if she stopped fighting herself and allowed the attraction to her best friend to develop.

 “I’ll take care of you,” he promised and clinked his glass against hers. His low voice made her insides quiver, and she moved closer to him, allowing her hips to graze against his in clumsy, awkward crashes.

 “I’m counting on it,” she said before tipping her head back and swallowing the amber liquid. The burn of it down her throat felt amazing, and her head swam when Peeta steadied her by putting his hand against her bare skin. Silently, she thanked Rue for picking backless bridesmaids dresses. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and, not only was her entire back exposed, but so were the sides of her torso. Even so, it still felt like too much material between her and Peeta when he leaned in and slowly, carefully cupped her face in his palm.

 “Katniss?”

 He asked carefully and tenderly, his words tinged with disbelief and something she could only describe as awe. He hesitated, and she watched as the tip of his tongue licked away a stray drop of whiskey from his lower lip. She couldn’t tear her eyes from him—not when his thumb caressed her cheek or when he leaned in closer or when he finally leaned in and his warm mouth brushed softly against hers.

 “Oh, hell,” he breathed and nudged forward, chasing her tongue with his.

 Katniss closed her eyes then and lost herself in the feeling of him—the way he tasted, his scent, the solid length of his muscled body pressing against hers, the way he trembled against her like he couldn’t believe what they were doing was real. How long had she waited for this? How many times had she dismissed her feelings because she didn’t want to face the possibility that he felt the same way? And now. Now that they were kissing, she wanted to go back in time and live the last five minutes over and over again. She didn’t want the kiss to end, but Peeta pulled away at the sound of the DJ’s voice.

 “All right, party goers! It’s almost midnight. Last dance of the night. Let’s make it a good one.”

 “At the risk of sounding completely like a cliché,” he murmured, “you wanna get out of here?”

 Katniss giggled against his neck and nodded. She couldn’t help the grin splitting her face. “Don’t forget my shoes.”

 He grabbed her hand and headed for their table. She stumbled along behind him as her head spun. He scooped up her shoes and dangled them from his free hand. She snatched her clutch and trailed along behind him to the revolving door of the hotel and out into the street. The pavement was cold on her feet, but she didn’t care. His hand was warm on hers, and she wanted nothing more than to follow him into the future. Or something. She might have had too much to drink.

 Instead, she stumbled into a cab after him and trailed him up the stairs to his apartment where he pulled her inside and closed the door behind them. Giggling and grinning like fools, they kissed against the door, her back to it and him pressing her between him and the wood. It didn’t take long for them to move from playful and giddy to panting and frantic.

 “God, you taste good,” he groaned as he hitched her leg over his hip and buried his hand under her skirt. The material frothed around her, blocking his access to her, and she considered shimmying out of her clothing for a few seconds before realizing she was moving way too fast.

 “Peeta. Peeta, we should… Fuck,” she breathed as his hand found panties and slipped underneath to smooth over her skin.

 “We should fuck,” he agreed, his mouth warm on her neck. “God, I want you.”

 “That’s not what I meant,” she giggled and pushed against his shoulders. “I mean, not that I don’t want to eventually, but—”

 “But you’re wearing green taffeta and fake eyelashes and are a little drunk?”

 Katniss started laughing, then, full-bodied laughter that reached to her toes. “You’re not supposed to talk about the eyelashes!” she yelped and swatted his chest.

 Peeta plunked his head against the door and stilled his hands. His shoulders shook with the effort it took him to slow his breathing, and he let her leg go so she could steady herself. “You want to slow things down,” he sighed.

 “I don’t want to,” she protested. “What I want is to rip my clothes off and let you bang me against this wall, but I am a little drunk. And you are my best friend. And I just figured out that…”

 “That?” he asked, his voice warm and soft in her ear.

 “That I’m crazy about you.”

 She felt his mouth quirk into a grin and ducked her head in embarrassment. Her limbs felt heavy, thick, and unwieldy, and she thanked her lucky stars that he was still holding her upright.

 “Crazy about me, huh?”

 “I didn’t know,” she explained, a little plaintively. “I hadn’t even thought about the possibility until today, and Jo said something in the bathroom, and then I realized I’d been repressing what I felt for a long time, and now… Now, I don’t want to ruin this. I don’t want to stop, but I don’t want to mess it up.”

 He groaned and pushed away from the door. From an arm’s length away, he leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the lips before moving to her cheek and then placing a soft press against her temple.

 “You know, I haven’t had a drunk make out session in a while, especially with someone who just figured out she likes me. And I have a really big, comfy couch.”

 “But do you have a t-shirt and some sweats? Because I don’t really feel like being in this fucking dress anymore.”

 “Bathroom. I’ll bring you some clothes. I can tell you’re dying to strip off those lashes, anyway.”

 He grabbed some pajamas for her, knocked on the bathroom door, and slipped them through the crack she allowed. While she was changing, she watched as he stripped out of his suit and tugged a worn navy t-shirt and heather gray sweats on and padded to the kitchen where he rummaged until he found some medicine for headaches. He filled two glasses of water and then crossed to the couch. Dropping to the cushions, he arranged things on the coffee table for easy access. He didn’t want her to wake up the next morning with a hangover, she realized, and that was absolutely adorable.

 “Hey,” she said softly, and he raised his eyes. She was dwarfed in his clothes and haloed in the light from the hallway. The look that crossed his face made her knees weak and her chest clutch. It was equal parts awe, adoration, and want.

 It seemed like it took forever for her to cross the room, but he groaned when she sank down next to him and leaned into his side. He folded her against him and sought her mouth with his. Kiss followed kiss until they were sunk into the cushions, wrapped around each other, drunk on each other, drowsy and vulnerable, and delighted with new-found feelings. Before long, they lost their battle with consciousness and drifted into a contented sleep. When they woke the next morning, still wrapped around each other, she stretched under him and grinned.

 “I’d ask if you want to get breakfast, but I don’t know where my shoes are. I lost them around midnight.”

 “Okay, Cinderella,” he teased with a nudge to her cheek.

 “No! That makes Johanna Mason my fairy godmother.”

 “Whatever works.”

 Peeta kissed her again, and it was an hour before either of them worried about breakfast.