#thg writing prompt

[triassictriserratops]

okay, so DARK !HijackedPeeta idea/writing prompt for anyone who wants it:

(this is VERY loosely inspired by a twisted idea of The Little Mermaid, so if you want to add those fairy tale elements - have at!)

when Peeta strangles Katniss he manages to permanently (or semi-permanently based on your preference) damage her trachea/larynx, thereby damaging her vocal chords.

Katniss loses her ability to speak. Snow has now used Peeta as a tool to "silence The Mockingjay"

THINGS THAT COULD HAPPEN AS A RESULT:

1.) Katniss grappling with the loss of her voice and her ability to sing. Something she connects to better times with her father.

2.) Katniss needing to learn a whole new form of communication (likely through bonding with Pollux, who although different in circumstance, obviously, can empathize and wants to help her.)

3.) Plutarch tasking Beetee with taking voice clips of Katniss and creating an AI voice that can say anything he wants it to say. (To the horror of Katniss, her family, and Haymitch)

4.) As Peeta is able to recover from the hijacking, the knowledge of what his hands did will destroy him.

5.) As he watches that video of Katniss singing The Hanging Tree (and he flashes back to her father singing it) it will work as a kind of siren song. He's drawn to it. Drawn to her voice. But Katniss can't sing anymore due to his actions. And he has to grapple with that and what he took from the world and from her.

6.) They find ways back to each other. Where he was initially drawn to her voice from the young age of 5, without the "siren song" he finds himself constantly drawn to her in other ways.

[tetheredfeathers]

Prompt: “How am I supposed to focus when you look at me like that?”

A little prompt challenge me and @littlemarianah started.

Click here to her version of this.

No pressure tags at my lovely mutuals to continue this challenge.

@thesweetnessofspring @mollywog @katnissdoesnotfollowback

Kiss me

I rested my back agsint the couch as I watched Peeta swirl his brush to imitate the roots of Rue’s dark hair. Watching Peeta paint was so calming, his face seemed so relaxed I wanted to place a kiss on his forehead. I noticed that his curls looked mussed and wet on his head, just like they did when he came out of my shower the night before the quarter quell.

He furrowed his eyebrows, and his face took on that special look of concentration as he dipped his brush into 3 different colors to get the color of Rue’s skin just right. I had the sudden urge to reach out and fix his right eyebrow, since one side seemed more brushed out than the other. 

I observed that after each stroke he let out a small puff of air, relieved that he didn’t make a mistake. He never used to do that before, so confident about his paintings, my heart broke as I realized it must've been due to the hijacking. His chest puffed in and out so majestically, I wanted to place my head on his heart and listen to it beat, just like  I did all those night on the victory tour. 

“How am I supposed to focus when you look at me like that?” Peeta suddenly looked up and chimed, a smile tugged on his lips.

“Like what,” I asked, surprised. What? I can’t even watch him peacefully anymore! I thought as he stared at me.

“I don’t know you’re just…” he trailed off. “Never mind.” 

Peeta went back to mixing his colors and I resumed memorizing his face.

“Here I’m done, what do you think?”

Peeta leaned in closer than he needed to as he showed me the finished picture. I took the opportunity to rest my head on his shoulder as I judged the picture for much longer than needed.

“Maybe just add some more flowers, it looks a bit empty. “I lied, wanting to watch him for just a bit longer.

“Okay,” Peeta sighed.

I budged closer to him, swept my finger across his cheek. He looked up at me, surprised.

“Eyelash,” I said.

“Oh.” Disappointment scrunching face.

“Here make a wish.” I whispered

Peeta closed his eyes and muttered something under his breath before blowing it away. I looked up at him and licked my lips. We were sitting way too close I could feel his breath on my cheek. I should move away, but really I couldn’t.

His eyes peered into mine as he looked at me questioningly, so I tipped my head and brushed my lips against his, then pulled back to watch his reaction. He gasped loudly as I leaned in again، this time pressing my whole mouth against his. Peeta groaned loudly at the back of his throat and a surge of warmth rushed through my belly, at the noises he was making. Peeta slipped his tongue out and swiped it across my upper lip, a beastly urge came over me as I eagerly opened my mouth and climbed into his lap. Our wet tongues danced against each other languidly, his hands slid up my waist and caressed places I never thought needed to be.

“You were looking at me like you wanted to kiss me,” Peeta panted out between breaths.

[waywardangel-wilds]

one day the penny is going to drop and katniss is going to realize peeta did not have to have his lips against her neck for that long. and then she realizes all the homewrecker behavior from the quell and also a bit of the 1st games.

Katniss, just minding her own business in her and Peeta's yard. Humming. Looking at birds. Putting up the wash to dry. When suddenly.

She drops the basket. The whites are in the grass, people! She gasps. A rogue goose looks at her. It's wondering if it needs to bite her or not. Watch out, bitch. Katniss doesn't notice. She turns and marches right back into the house.

"Peeta Mellark, you shameless whore!" Peeta's mouth just drops open. The hunk of apple he just bit into? It's on the floor. The group of 4-5 year old girls around the kitchen island gasp.

"Katniss," Peeta hisses her name as he takes her by the shoulders and shuffles her into the little laundry room off the kitchen. "What are you doing?! The PTA is gonna have my ass if they start calling each other the w word!"

Katniss just gapes at him. How can he be concerned with the PTA at a time like this?! "You are shameless! You just wormed your way in, like-like a temptress. What is wrong with you??"

"What are you talking about??"

She tells him, in halting confusing detail, but eventually he puts it together. He just blinks at her, mouth open, before eventually smirking with self-satisfied delight.

"Man, you're slow." He rolls his eyes. "It worked tho? So... I got a bunch of little girls waiting to play fairy princess orphanage, so I actually gotta go. See ya!"

She's gaping. He has no shame! Has Katniss married the enemy? Has she laid down with the devil? Shackled herself -- permanently! -- with a homewrecker?

There has to be someone she can call. She needs to tell on him, some trusted adult, somewhere (please ignore the fact that she's nearly 40 years old) surely knows what to do! She's calling her mother!

[littlemarianah]

Fun ideas for fanfics that I don't have time to write - Part 1

A fanfic where Peeta teaches Katniss how to wrestle.

Peeta is training for a wrestling championship. It's nothing too big, but his competitive spirit makes him train until exhaustion.

He no longer has so much time to spend with Katniss and so as not to spend the whole week without seeing each other, she decides to watch him train.

Peeta is very attractive in those gym clothes and doesn't have anyone to train with, so Katniss decides to volunteer, because it seems hot™️. Peeta chuckles, she doesn't seem serious and he doesn't want to train seriously to hurt her. He tries to take it easy, he just puts her down so he can kiss her, no, it doesn't even remotely look like wrestling.

He is surprised when she actually starts to challenge him. She starts using force and complains when he lets her win. She hates seeing him go easy on her.

Katniss can be really good acc. He is surprised. She's not strong enough to stop him, but she's a good strategist and can put him in very complicated positions, or dodge his attacks for a long time.

Katniss isn't trying to be good, she's just really turned on by the idea of them pretend to fighting.

Peeta tell her that she is happy with how good she is, and maybe she will win if she competes with people of the same weight as her. Well, Katniss doesn't care much about wrestling, she just likes having an excuse to roll on the floor with him.

She went to see him train again next day, he invites her to the mat. Stops being so hot. Peeta starts teaching her real moves instead of getting on top of her just to touch her hips on his, and have his mouth close to her ear. Peeta acc starts training her.

Katniss finds it completely boring

Well, she doesn't wnat just say it all loud. (For plot reasons lol) So she starts putting him in complicated positions just to watching him lose control. Honestly, it's kind of hard to take Peeta out of competitive trainer mode and into boyfriend mode.

But when he realizes what she's trying to do he gets so turned on that smoke comes out of his ears. But without wanting to lose my composure he starts to play her game. After that, let's just say things get dirty.

It's a good idea, but I have so many ideas and so little time. I would just like to write something hot and fun, but I always end up complicating everything with too much plot. Sad life.

Do you guys think Katniss POV or Peeta POV is more interesting? or third person?

[aparticularbandit]

Making Cookies

Summary: Peeta tells Katniss he needs to talk, but they end up baking instead.

Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mallark

Rating: T.

AO3

“We should talk.”

Peeta’s stern, more stern than normal, but it’s better than the stilted formality that’s grown between us ever since the games.

But I don’t want to talk to Peeta.  I don’t know how to talk to Peeta anymore, if I ever did to begin with.  It doesn’t seem fair to keep up the ruse he’d created, and there’s no way to return to what we’d been before.  We hadn’t been anything before.  Just the boy with the bread and the girl he’d saved, a tentative past connection that meant everything and nothing.

But it isn’t just Peeta.  It’s impossible to return to anything the way it was before the games.  Other than Haymitch, he’s the only one who understands that.

Maybe that’s what makes this so hard.

I give him a silent nod.  It isn’t as though much else fills my days, and it isn’t though I have any excuse not to meet with him, other than simply not wanting to do so.  My eyes shift about me, taking in the empty houses around us, my own barely used with my mother and Prim, and Haymitch’s.  Sometimes, I envy his loneliness.  I do not envy his nightmares; I have my own.

“When?”

~

Peeta’s house smells strongly of bread.  It’s the same way he smells, but stronger; in the Capitol, during the games, that smell was gone, replaced with their fancy oils and powders then with dirt and blood.  By the end, he smelled like one of the rabbits Gale traps in the woods.  They have more time to be afraid.

Even now, away from the bakery, Peeta’s house smells like bread.  He bakes the way I hunt, to keep his mind off of everything else.  But no matter how much we try to go back, we can’t.  There will always be a difference between us and everyone else.  A different kind of surviving.  The scent is even stronger inside the house, overwhelming flour mixed with the sweeter scent of sugar and the sharp alcoholic tang of yeast.

I find him waiting for me in the kitchen, apron tied about his waist, flour decorating his hair like snow that doesn’t melt. “You wanted to talk?”

“Mm.  Hold on.  I’m almost done.”  Peeta pushes his hair back with one hand, leaving a trail of flour behind.  Then he sets his newest loaf on a tray, sticks it into the oven where it will be seared with fire, and leaves it be.  He offers me a smile.  “Needed a break.”

“I know.”  I sit on the stool across from him.  “You’ve got flour—”

“Everywhere.  I know.”  Peeta chuckles.  It’s a real laugh, even though it isn’t much, and the smile he wears when he makes it feels normal.  Like the way he’s supposed to be.  He lifts his apron and rubs his face with it.  “Better?”

Now there’s just as much flour on his face as there is on the counter.  “No,” I say.  “Worse.”

“Huh.”  Peeta looks confused.  He stares at his apron.  “That was supposed to help.”  He sighs and looks up at me.  “Well, I guess we’re just going to have to make you match.”

I barely get my mouth open before Peeta throws a spray of flour at me.  It coats my face, thick like the powder they force me to wear in the Capitol, and my mouth drops open as a little cloud puffs around me.  I reach over and push him.  “Hey!”

Peeta stands back, out of the way, and he smiles like he does when he’s happy, not the fake sort of thing he wears when we need to pretend for our safety.  “Now you don’t have an excuse.”

“An excuse?”

“Everything’s been so tense lately,” Peeta says, placing his hands flat on the flour-covered counter.  His smile fades as he looks down at them.  “You can’t teach me how to hunt, but I thought….”  He glances up and searches my eyes.  “I thought I could teach you to bake.  Something simple.”  He pulls a few shaped cutters from a nearby tray.  “Like cookies?”

I don’t want to stay here.  I don’t want to learn how to bake from Peeta, almost as much as I don’t want to teach him how to hunt.  Our lives are already so hopelessly entangled that this only makes everything more confusing.  It would be easier to not, easier to go back to my house and wash everything off.

But Prim will ask.  I can ignore my mother, but I can’t ignore Prim.

So I scowl and nod.  “Fine.”  I nod at the shapes.  “But only if we make one that looks like Haymitch.”

Peeta pulls out another cutter, one that looks like a wine bottle.  I don’t ask why he has one that shape or who would ever want a bottle-shaped cookie.  He offers me a smile. “Drinks and all.”

I don’t smile.  “Drinks and all.”

~

Peeta convinces me to make another batch while we wait for the first one to cook, and while we wait for the first batch to cool enough to decorate – I tell him I won’t be good at it, but he won’t let me leave the decorations up to him – he slices the freshly cooled loaf of bread, slathers it with butter, and hands it to me.  I try to tell him I’m not hungry, but he won’t listen.  Despite this, I take the slice and take a bite.

The bread melts in my mouth.  It’s sweet from the butter, a luxury that we have more than enough of now but that still feels like a luxury.  I scarf the rest of the slice down but don’t ask for another.  He smiles, assuring me that he’ll send the rest home with me.  Peeta gives us fresh bread and cookies every day, but it’s still – it’s another luxury.  One we don’t deserve.

It’s while decorating the body-shaped cookies that it happens.

My attempts at recreating Effie with her bright pink hair look nothing like her, just a puff of pink covering the whole of what should be her head.  I scowl at her and grab for another one of Peeta’s intricate decorating tools.  I want to scrape away all of the icing I’ve already laid, but that would be a waste.  Even something as simple as this, I can’t waste food.

I glance over at the cookie Peeta is decorating and stop.

The cookie, burnt a little from something beyond our control, has a much darker color than the other golden cookies we’ve been decorating.  This one, Peeta’s decorated to be a girl instead of a boy, and she looks the spitting image of Rue.

My breath catches in my throat.  “Peeta?”

Peeta doesn’t look up.  He stares at the cookie, continuing to decorate it – continuing to recreate her – as though it’s the only thing in the world.  “I won’t eat her,” he says.

I hadn’t even thought about that.  Eating Rue – biting off her legs, her arms, her head – the idea of it makes me sick to my stomach in a way that eating a fake Haymitch didn’t.  I remember her in those last moments, after she was dead, after I’d surrounded her with flowers, after I sang for her, for an audience I didn’t see and didn’t care about – and still don’t care about, although their investment saved the both of us together – and I stumble backwards.  “What are you doing?”

When Peeta finishes, he holds the cookie gentle in his hands.  “This is the only way I can save them.”

It’s a horrible explanation, and it doesn’t make any sense.  “You aren’t saving anyone—“

But Peeta lifts the carefully decorated Rue cookie.  He takes her to the freezer and sets her inside, where other cookies decorated like each of the other tributes – even Cato, who’d attacked him, who’d been left with us at the last; even Marvel, who’d killed Rue and who I’d—

“You made all of them,” I say, trying not to feel sick.  “All of them.”

“This is the only way I can save them,” Peeta repeats.  He sets Rue inside with the rest of them and then shuts the freezer door.  “I know it’s a waste, but—”

I wrap my arms around him the way I need someone to hold me during my nightmares.  “It’s not a waste.”  I stare at the closed freezer.  “It’s an honor.”

I don’t tell him that I saw myself in the freezer, too, or that I’d noticed how there wasn’t a cookie of him.

~

While Peeta is visiting with his family later, I sneak into his house.  It isn’t hard.  He doesn’t lock his door.  I don’t think I would either, if my mother and Prim didn’t live in my house.  Whatever I have can be stolen; it’ll just be replaced later, and I don’t need any of it, don’t want any of it.

Streaks of flour coat my face like claw marks.

I open the freezer and gently place another tribute inside.  The Peeta I’ve made isn’t beautiful, like the cookies he’s decorated.  It’s misshapen, and one of its legs has a lump in it.  I’m not good at baking.  Prim won’t even eat the other cookies I’ve made.

But this one wasn’t about baking.  It was about this, setting a Peeta to be protected, to be saved, with all of the others he’s made.

~

A few days later, Peeta meets my eyes and gives me a nod.  That’s how I’ve known he’s seen it.

For once, in all of this, I feel warm.

[nightlocked-in]

katniss crying about k and p breakup

The last final I have is online and on Saturday morning. It’s open book, and I mindlessly answer the short-answer questions and half-ass the essay at the end. I have such a high grade in that class that I could fail this test and still get an A, so I don’t care. I just submit it and plop down on the floor of my room again.

I sniffle a little, as now that my finals are over I don’t have a way to hide from my problems. And if Peeta came to my apartment, I wouldn’t be able to avoid him. And I could hide out at my house, but I know Prim would rat out my location anyway, since they’re such close friends apparently.

I feel my eyes prick with tears at the thought of him, so I lay down on the floor. My eyes are blurry from new tears, but I wipe them away, heaving a big, taxing sigh. And from this angle, I can see underneath the couch.

A piece of gray fabric. I grab it. I sit up.

It’s Peeta’s jacket.

My lip starts trembling as I hold the jacket, the jacket that is the same color as my eyes. And my dad’s eyes. And Peeta painted them the right shade, but I’ll never have the chance to tell him that now. He’ll probably go off and paint some other chick, and fall in love with her, and have beautiful blonde babies that look nothing like me.

And it hurts. It hurts so, so bad.

So I let myself have this. I let my tears drip onto the jacket. I let my vision go blurry. I let my hands clench around the fabric like they used to hold onto his hair. I lock my legs together like I should have done, all those weeks ago, and I hold my knees to my chest. And I drop my head to the jacket. In between shuddering breaths, I try to smell it, to breathe in his scent left there.

I let myself crack and crumble, collapsing and crying into the carpet.

[blackpatrxnum]

(too many) thoughts and headcanons on life post mockingjay for hayffie and everlark

- it's just pure fluff with some hurt/comfort thrown in there, whoopsie -

Haymitch becoming Katniss' caretaker is so beautiful, I truly see him keeping sober after the war - maybe he bingedrank once back at twelve because the old demons are hard to chase away, but the next day when he sees Katniss depressed he realises he is far more useful sober. He had to take care of her, he still had a purpose. He is slowly helping her get better, maybe accompanying her to the woods for the first few times. He's just there

And even though Peeta goes back home, moves in with her, loves her, keeps the nightmares at bay... Haymitch keeps coming back, keeps making dinner for them, keeps going on walks, teasing, fussing a bit (it seems like he's learnt a lot from effie)

One time, when Peeta and Katniss both have influenza, Haymitch goes full doctor/dad mode - and for the first time, a highly feverish Katniss calls him dad. I'd see Haymitch stopping whatever he was doing for a sec and fight back at smile and then giving Katniss a kiss on her forehead and telling her a less charged version of stay alive.

Eventually, I think that Effie would come to 12. She'd move into Haymitch's house and at first, that feat would bring Katniss and Haymitch even closer. Effie was everywhere, she nagged and she prodded, she got on his nerves. So Haymitch sometimes runs away to Katniss' house, he took solace in the other's kindred spirit. They'd have a laugh, she'd let him bitch about her. She liked Effie but she didn't know her well enough yet. I think in these instances Peeta would be either at the Bakery or he just knew to let them have their time, he saw what they were to each other, how important they were for the other's well being.

But then, during the last months leading up to Prim's death anniversary, right around the time Katniss starts closing in on herself, getting broodier - moodier. Haymitch and Effie's relationship changes, after months of living together, learning their tricks and ticks; they fall in love, properly, absolutely. Haymitch gets lost on the high of the honeymoon stage. It also serves as a bit of a coping mechanism to keep the nightmares and horror from the war at bay.

It's not that he ignores Katniss, or Peeta for that matter. He's just... less aware, looks at everything with rose coloured glasses. After a long time, they are fine, content. The past is past.

Katniss feels like Effie is EVERYWHERE. She's the only one out of the three victors that isn't as happy with her presence. Effie loves Katniss, she considers Katniss as hers but Katniss isn't there... yet. (I feel like this would steem from her own relationship with her biological parents' - her dad left, he couldn't help it, he died but he always took care of her and her family, he taught her how to survive / SEE THE PARALLELISM WITH HAYMITCH TELLING KATNISS TO STAY ALIVE / but her mum... she abandoned her, from a young age, Katniss had to make do, she put bread on the table, she protected Aster and Prim, and her mom at the end, once again, CHOSE to leave her behind)

So yeah, Katniss is naturally wary of Effie, pair that with her Capitol self and it could be a recipe for disaster. At some point, they'd have a row - she says stuff that hurts Effie to her core - and Haymitch hates that. He tries to mediate but he gets "scalded". Katniss starts to avoid them, him. She gets worse. The demons are louder than ever.

And Haymitch two weeks into it, finally has to take matters into his own hands. They fight like they've never done before. Katniss yelling "You're not my dad" stops them in their tracks, 'cause at some point Haymitch really forgot. He just thought they didn't do the mushy shit and say it, there was no need for more acknowledgement after that feverish night. She was his to protect, she was his to care for, she was his to love.

It'd hurt him more than he'd let on.

They'd sulk, for a bit. Haymitch would storm out, but he'd also be the one to patch them up. I think they'd talk. It would go well, even though they're not such open books. They'd compromise. They'd acknowledge in the open air what they meant for the other. They'd move on. I think this would be the point when they start working on the Tributes book; because Katniss needs to do something with all the grief inside her. The woods and the happy family was not cutting it anymore.

And the four of them would sometimes get better, other times' they'd get worse. But they're always there for each other, like proper family. After sometime Katniss would leave behind the flight/fight mode. And yeah, life goes on.

I see her relationship with Effie getting better, to the point that sometimes she goes to her instead of Haymitch for stuff. Because she knows she won't leave. She learns to accept her flaws, she learns to love her happier and more optimistic demeanor. Effie also lets Katniss see, finally, the other side to her - the more human, vulnerable side that only Haymitch was privy to. Peeta's always seen through the cracks tho, so it doesn't surprise him as much. Peeta does know he's hers. Katniss learns to see herself as hers too.

And Peeta's and Katniss' wedding comes. They're forced to make a bigger spectacle than what they wanted to. Mama Effie and Papa Haymitch come to the rescue and fight to get them as much privacy as they can. Effie plans the whole thing to their liking.

I think she'd insist on adding a bit of Capitol tradition to it: the bride and the groom spending the night before the wedding apart. At first Effie would spend the night at Peeta's and Katniss' house, to keep him company in case he has an episode. And Katniss would go to Hayffie's. But Peeta makes a funny comment "It's not like you and Effie are getting married too, there's no need to make you suffer through the night alone" and Haymitch...just gets this little twinkle in his eyes. They accept with the promise that if Peeta has any troubles he'd come to them. So Katniss is the one that spends the night at Hayffie's.

They'd have a mostly quiet night in, Effie has more outward nerves than anyone else. The next day, Effie wakes Katniss up with her "big big day". But in a flurry she's gone to Peeta's, to make sure he gets dressed and is right on schedule. It also gives Katniss and Haymitch a bit of space to sneak out to the comfort of the woods for a bit. They make sure to come back before Effie catches them. She comes back to help Katniss get ready, she's teary eyed. Haymitch too, when he sees Katniss coming down the stairs. She looks soft, beautiful.

Effie leaves with Peeta, 10 minutes before them. Haymitch is in charge of getting Katniss to the justice building, that's when she asks him to give her away. And he does. The whole thing is perfect.

After an evening of partying, they bid their farewells. And go to have their private toasting. Peeta and Katniss want this part to be just theirs.

It's winter so at Effie's and Haymitch's the fire is roaring too. And she gets... curious; she's never been privy to that part of twelve customs so Haymitch takes the hands on approach and shows her how it's done. Effie understands what he's doing halfway through, Haymitch can see the recognition in her eyes. The slight stopping, the widening and surprise in her gaze. But she lets him go on, doesn't stop him even when he leaves enough space for her to make a run for it during the last part. He says wife, she says husband and she kisses him with all her fervor. All the love she has for him, all the love she's kept from him during their time as escort and victor.

She still makes him promise they'll have a proper party after a year.

They don't tell the kids what they've done tho. That ceremony is only theirs too.

[aethermint]

Going to be writing prompts for my favourite ships in April! First time ever for me to actually post anything I write so excited for it.

The ships in question...

ZIBELL (MAGGIE X OA - FBI CBS)

GRINDELDORE (ALBUS X GELLERT - HARRY POTTER)

HAYFFIE (HAYMITCH X EFFIE - THE HUNGER GAMES)

And whatever else I fixate on in-between. Probably TIVA AND HANNIGRAM also

[delicatenightfury]

"I'm not that little girl you left there to die anymore."

2022 Month of Writing: Day 1

Pairing: Haymitch Abernathy x reader

Prompt:

Word Count: 982

Author's Note: please don't steal my work! you can choose to respond to the prompt as well, but don't steal my work

The scenery flew by, too fast to really process what was being seen. y/n however still chose to look out the train window. She didn’t really process anything she was seeing, too lost in her thoughts… in her nightmares… She couldn’t remember the last time she felt at peace. It certainly wasn’t now, not after what had happened and when she knew where she was headed.

The sound of a door opening barely registered. She faintly heard it, but she didn’t care enough to look up. 

Suddenly, someone sat down heavily in front of her. Her eyes shifted toward them, finding that it was her district mentor Haymitch Abernathy who sat down. His hair was messy, almost oily, and he had a drink in his hand. y/n turned her gaze back out the window. 

“So, I assume you know what’s coming next,” Haymitch said. “We’ve finished in the districts, so we wrap up the Victory Tour in the Capitol. Lots of parties, lots of people, lots of cameras. So that means-”

“I don’t want to hear about it, Haymitch,” y/n muttered.

“You don’t really have a choice, girlie.”

“As if I ever did.”

Haymitch rolled his eyes. 

“Once we get to the Capitol, it’s best to go back to the happy girl personality you had during the interviews. The Capitol people ate it up, so they’ll most likely want to see that. You want to make a good impression. You’re grateful to have survived, grateful for everything the Capitol has done-”

“Grateful?” y/n snapped, finally turning her head to look at her mentor. Her eyes narrowed at him. “You think I’m grateful for what happened?”

“It’s all about appearances, kid. I’m trying to help you out here.”

She laughed, almost throwing her head back.

“Trying to help me? That’s a first. Where were you when I was fighting for my life?”

“Listen, girl, I-”

“No. I’m not that little girl you left there to die anymore, Haymitch. I nearly died! I killed kids, kids my age and younger, for some stupid entertainment show! Meanwhile, you got to sit back and watch, drinking your alcohol and rubbing elbows with the Capitol. You abandoned me, Haymitch!”

“Will you shut up?” The two glared at one another for a long moment. Haymitch set his drink on the window ledge, giving her his full attention. “I get what you’re going through, believe me I do. But you winning? Close to a miracle. You’re from District 12. We’re automatically bottom tier. The Capitol doesn’t pay attention to us, nor do they ever expect us to win. So trying to get you sponsors was one of the hardest things I’ve had to do in a long time.I saw the potential you had since the Reaping. I’m bad at showing it, I know I am, but I was impressed. But I’ve been disappointed before and have had too many kids die to keep my hopes up. Whether or not you believe it now, I am trying to help you, y/n.”

She stared at him. Deep down, she knew he was right. District 12 had only ever won the Hunger Games twice in its existence, three times now. The Capitol was far more likely to bet on the careers than on her.

She felt like she had only won based on luck.

She had only managed to grab a pack before running from the Bloodbath. She was forced to scavenge, with no weapon other than a small knife. She had made a small alliance with a boy from seven, but they were both wary of one another and separated relatively early on.

The arena had been beautiful overall, with forests, a valley with a river, a lake in the south, and a mountain in the north. Truthfully, it was a nightmare. “Natural” disasters, mutts, the other tributes… some many variables out to kill. y/n had had to fight several times for her life, against both mutts and tributes, barely making it but coming out victorious.

She was lucky her pack had medicine in it, and that she was learning how to become a doctor back home. She had patched her own wounds, roughly but enough that she wouldn’t bleed out and die. Upon her return from the games, the Capitol had gotten rid of her scars from her work.

Haymitch suddenly leaned forward and took her hand, effectively snapping her out of her nightmare. She glanced down and realized she was running her hand over where one of the worst injuries had been on her arm. She had almost lost the ability to use her arm. The Capitol was able to repair it, but the phantom pains were there.

“The Games aren’t over, y/n,” Haymitch said. His eyes were somber and filled with understanding. “They are never over. We play the games every year, every day. That’s just how our lives are now. I’m just trying to help make it easier for you.”

y/n took a deep breath and nodded. She offered him a small smile.

“Thank you,” she said. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

“That’s all right. I get it. Just remember I’m here for you. My door is always open, though I can’t promise I’ll always be sober.”

She chuckled. She couldn’t remember the last time she had actually laughed in a way that wasn’t deprecating. She then reached forward and grabbed his tumbler, smiling a little as she took a sip of his drink.

“Ah ah ah!” he said. “Get your own glass.”

“Your’s was closer.”

He shook his head, taking the glass back when she offered it to him. A silence fell over them then, more comfortable than before. His hand hadn’t moved from hers, keeping her from fidgeting with her old wounds. She squeezed his hand - a silent thank you.

They were in this together.

[endlessnightlock]

P- Pool noodle!

Thanks for the prompt @thelettersfromnoone

Peeta wanted to woop for joy. He couldn't believe his luck! He hadn't crossed paths with her at all this summer. But there she was.

Waiting about a dozen people ahead of where he and his brothers were in line for the city pool were Katniss Everdeen and her little sister Prim.

He wiped away the beads of sweat forming at the base of his neck. Man, it was hot out.

Both of the girls had towels wrapped around their bodies, Prim's tucked into her armpits because she was so tiny---she was going into third grade this year but looked younger---while Katniss's towel was wrapped around the waist over her blue-striped bathing suit. Her skin had turned an even darker shade than it was during the winter, he noticed. Peeta was jealous of anyone who didn't burn in the sun without layers of zinc oxide, even if he was half in love with her. Prim's hair had bleached into a shocking white blond, the same way he used to get when he was her age. Funny how the girls had such different coloring but otherwise looked so similar. He had a feeling Prim was going to be just as pretty as Katniss one day; she was a dead ringer for her older sister at that age. Peeta would know. He's pined after Katniss since preschool.

Katniss hadn't caught a glimpse of him yet, but why would she. He was the one with a crush so massive his heart felt like it'd swelled up times a hundred and was trying to break through his chest and land on the sidewalk where it would sizzle like a hamburger in the mid-August heat.

Peeta glanced at his brothers, wondering if they had noticed Katniss waiting in line. He wasn't sure if he wanted them to see her. They might tease him relentlessly. More likely, he realized, they would be too busy checking out the high school girls to bother him at all. Peeta snorted. Mark was going to be a freshman this year and already acted like he was hot shit or something.

Soon Katniss and Prim disappeared around the corner into the girl's locker room and were already in the pool once he, Mark, and Tim emerged from the guys changing room. He was glad Katniss had a head start. It gave him time to talk himself into striking up a conversation with her.

Instead of heading towards the deep end of the pool with Mark and Tim because his brothers could be jackasses, Peeta found a spot to drop their stuff. The pool was filling up quickly today; almost every lawn chair was loaded with older girls or parents and their little kids.

Peeta spotted his friend Vick Hawthorne with his family and was relieved someone else was here he knew. Vick's mom was busy slathering his baby sister Posy down with sunscreen. Vick waved at Peeta and then turned to say something to his mom before hopping up from the corner of the chair he was sitting on and trotting his way. His younger brother Rory followed on his heels, a shorter, wiry version of his brother.

“Whatcha doing?” Vick asked, giving Peeta a gap-toothed grin and jabbing him in the shoulder lightly.

He pretend-winced and returned the gesture. “Don’t know. Just got here,” he admitted. The three boys lingered near the edge of the pool. Peeta was trying not to stare at Katniss, who he located at the shallower end of the pool with Prim. The girls had a pool noodle Prim was holding onto and kicking her legs furiously behind her. Katniss had a patient smile on her face. She must be teaching her sister to swim.

Peeta was too busy not looking (but definitely looking) at Katniss to miss the devious look Vick shot Rory. “Us too," Vick said, winking at Rory. "Want to go off the diving boards?” The line for the boards was pretty long, clear down the length of the chain link fence, but yeah, Peeta would go off the diving board. Vick was a better swimmer than him; tall and thin with ropey muscles, he could dive into the water and barely crack the surface. Peeta was more of a canon baller.

The three boys got in line for the diving board and weren't waiting as long as Peeta expected they would. The lifeguard assigned to keep an eye on them kept everyone moving. Soon, Peeta made his way onto the board after Rory and Vick insisted he go before either of them.

He was almost at the end of the board, staring down into the flat blue water of the deep end of the swimming pool, when he heard Rory pipe up from behind him, loud. The volume of his voice reminded Peeta of a bullhorn.

"Hey, Katniss! Katniss! Your boyfriend is up! Make sure you watch him!"

Peeta stood at the end of the board, dumbfounded, as his eyes connected with Katniss's from across the pool. Vick hooted behind him with laughter, the boys smacking palms like they'd pulled off the heist of the century. Katniss quickly looked away from Peeta, mouth set in a firm line. Prim was grinning at him.

He wasn't given any time to think about what any of this meant. "Into the water kid," the lifeguard reminded him and stupidly, Peeta bouned off the board, forgetting to plug his nose as he went in feet first.

Chlorinated water shot up his nostrils as he went down, down, before pushing himself back to the surface of the water. His sinuses, his eyes, everything in his head burned as he resurfaced. He spit the excess water from his lungs back into the pool and swam toward the edge.

Behind him, he heard Vick bounced once on the board, lightly, before diving into the pool. Sure, now he was going to be quiet, now that he'd humiliated Peeta.

He was pulling himself out of the water as his friend swam up behind him. "Why did you do that dumbass?" he hissed, mortified. Sure Vick had probably figured out he liked Katniss, but that didn't explain him calling him her boyfriend.

Peeta's eyes raked the length of the pool, finally catching a glimpse of Katniss with her back toward them. He wondered if that was deliberate on her part. He hoped she wasn't mad at him.

Vick grinned, running a hand through his wet hair once they were both on the concrete walkway again. The two of them stepped aside to let other swimmers, including Rory, climb out of the water. "She likes you," he said. shrugging.

"No she doesn't," Peeta said, confused. She's never said a word to him, hardly looks his way. Of course she notices him looking at her sometimes. He stares at her a lot.

"She really does," Rory insists, appearing at his brother's side. "Prim told me she told her that you were the cutest boy in her class, and she thought you were nice, too."

"Seriously?"

"Serious. See, she's watching you right now," Vick said, pointing over Peeta's shoulder. Peeta glanced over his shoulder just in time to catch Katniss snapping her face forward. "I know you like her too. Go talk to her!"

For a few seconds Peeta considered the sudden turn of events. He wouldn't have dreamed Katniss liked him, she was so standoffish, but Vick wasn't a liar.

"She's shy, dude. If you like her—“

Rory laughed, interrupting his brother. “Come on, you know he likes her.”

“You're going to have to make the first move," Vick added, giving Peeta a light, playful shrug. You had to be careful at the pool. They would throw you out quick for rough-housing.

"Okay," Peeta breathed out, glancing over his shoulder at Katniss once again. Tentatively she met his eye this time. He smiled at her; she smiled back.

Peeta nodded his head so firmly Vick and Rory snorted. He ignored them. "Okay, I'll do it."

[ongreenergrasses]

the people have spoken so as requested, i have archived all my tumblr prompts by fandom on AO3! links are below if you’d like to take a look, and if you prefer to read on tumblr, you can look under #prompts for everything

The Old Guard

The Hunger Games

Good Omens

[triassictriserratops]

I’m relatively new to this corner of THG tumblr, so I need to know: have we explored Peeta as a tattoo artist? I neeeeeeeeeed Katniss getting Peeta’s art on her body as a form of healing and reclaiming her body. Plus the intimacy and trust you have to have with your tattoo artist to have a truly great experience,,,,,,,,,,plus maybe some praise kink with Peeta telling Katniss she’s a good girl for sitting so well through long sessions??? MUCH TO THINK ABOUT!!!!!!

This is GENIUS and imma need three chapters on my desk by the end of the business day!

To my knowledge I haven't seen anything like this but is anyone else aware of any TattooArtist!Peeta AUs??? Because I NEED IT.

Okay so, I'm thinking, Katniss goes into Peeta's shop after the anniversary of her sister's death. She wants to get a memorial tattoo for Prim.

(my mind immediately goes here because I actually have a memorial tattoo of my own right over my heart, in honor of my late fiance. 💚🕊️)

She looks through all of the artist portfolio books in the shop. (there's an artist whose portfolio has a lot of trees and nude pinups, guess who that is)

But she's drawn to the plain, black portfolio book with a single dandelion on the cover.

The art inside, has incredibly detailed and delicate line work, explosive watercolor designs, gorgeous plant work, and a hyper-realistic profile of a face with eyes that look startlingly similar to her own... - she's in love (with the art, of course)

She talks to the spiky haired girl, who was probably born rolling her eyes, at the front of the shop to schedule with the artist of that portfolio. He's not in today but he can meet her next Tuesday for a consult.

MY MIND IS SPINNINGGGGGGG. THE POSSIBILITIES! I'm calling this "Skin Deep" in my head.

AND, AND, AND - IF YOU WRITE THIS MAYBE YOU COULD PARTNER WITH AN EVERLARK ARTIST TO DRAW THE TATTOOS!

(and, depending on the design... I might totally get that tattoo on my actual person)

[lemonluvgirl]

The Mockingjay Cries at Midnight

So, here I am again with another weird Everlark Christmas-themed story. This time I decided to go way-waaay out of the box and try a Christmas/mystery/thriller. Yeah. I know. Should be fun lol. Very festive. Hope you like the first 2 chapters.

Chapter One: The Journalist and Slippery Slope 

The winding roads were icy and seemingly endless. Not another car was in sight on the lonely stretch of highway he was traveling.  His legs had lost feeling from continuous driving, and his fingers were starting to feel a bit numb too, but not from lack of movement. It was the seeping cold that seemed to pervade everything, despite the heater being turned up to full blast in his old Jeep Cherokee. Bing Crosby’s velvety voice was “Pa-rum, Pum, Pum, Pum,”ing along on the radio, and Peeta Mellark was humming along off-key in a desperate effort to stay awake. 

He had been driving for too long, he knew that, but he was very near reaching his destination. He was used to going to uncomfortable lengths to get the story he was after. He had done this before many times. Wisconsin for instance, he drove 9 hours in the rain to make it to Steven’s Point, and it had been hell on his back but he got there, and he got his story. They had to run second and third prints to keep up with the demand. And in Villa Ridge Missouri, he had to stake out an abandoned stretch of road for two days, but he got the story on that one too. 

This one would be just like all the rest. A little discomfort, a little lost sleep, but ultimately worth it in the long run once he printed a full expose about the mysterious murders that rocked a little no-name town fifty years ago. 

“I am a poor boy too…” His voice warbled tiredly as his eyes searched for the mile marker that would tell him where to turn, but there was a steady sleet building outside and it was getting harder and harder to see in the worsening weather. 

He was looking for number 113 and going by the map he was forced to use after he lost GPS service, it was bound to be around here somewhere. 

“I have no gift to bring, Pa-rum, Pum, Pum, Pum” He had already passed exit 18 aways back. That meant 113 was coming up any minute now. 

“That’s fit to give a—shit!” He caught sight of the reflective marker with the numbers 113 and tried to turn, half a second too late and much too sharp, but the tires couldn’t find purchase on the slick road on such short notice. 

The car started to hydroplane. 

“Fuck, FUCK!” Thinking quickly, he did what all the experts said was best, which was to turn into the spin. 

But he was going too fast. The row of snow covered trees that lined the highway like silent guardians blurred and drew closer in his vision.  

Suddenly he couldn’t remember what was so important that he drove out to the middle of nowhere a few days before Chrsitmas to find. Surely it wasn’t this. A quick and violent end on an icy road with no one who even knew where he was this time of night. 

Only his editor knew where he was headed and she probably wouldn’t report him missing for days. 

All of these thoughts flew into his mind and flew out just as quickly, as fast as the old jeep spun out of control and headed for the treeline. 

The last thing he saw was what looked like a woman. 

A woman in a faded ruffle dress, with long dark hair, standing on the side of the road. Almost close enough to touch. Time seemed to slow-and stop altogether as she held his gaze. She had a sad, forlorn look in her large brown eyes, that were almost pleading with him.  It looked like she was trying to say something, but he couldn’t make it out. It seemed important if the desperate look she was giving him was anything to go by, and he thought that look would be impressed upon him forever should he live past this terrible night. 

Then the car made another revolution, and she was taken out of his sight. 

 Quicker than a blink everything was back to the breakneck speed of reality as the car careened completely out of control. Then there was the sound of breaking glass, the impact of wood on metal, and the sharp flash of pain that radiated through every inch of him. 

And then all was darkness. 

Chapter 2: The Angel with the Permanant Frown 

The beep-beep-beep-beeeep of her minitor almost caused her to knock over her peppermint tea. Almost, but Katniss Everdeen caught the tipping cup at the last second and righted it. She unclipped the mini-monitor on her belt loop, nicknamed ‘minitor’ for short by all the local EMT’s and held it up as the device beeped its special four note tone again. It was the tone reserved for immediately life-threatening situations and it meant she didn’t have a minute to lose. 

She grabbed her truck keys off the top of her desk, tossed on her coat, didn’t bother with her hat or gloves, and threw open the door to the office of the local quick-mart. 

“Sae! I got a call!” She hollered as she rushed past the woman ringing up customers at the counter. 

“This time of night?” The grey haired older woman asked in surprise as Katniss flew by. 

“Rules are whoever gets the call has to head to the garage! Call Darius to cover my shift if you need extra security! Or Rory if need someone to help close up!” She shouted over her shoulder as she ran out, the chime of the bell ringing loudly behind her as the door snicked shut. 

Panem county was one of the smallest counties in the continental United States. The small townships of the Seam, Hob, and Panem Town proper, or just Town, as the locals called it barely drumed up a population of 4,000 residents combined. The only EMTs the county could afford to keep were volunteer ones, and they didn’t have regular shifts or wait at the station like their big-city counter parts. When someone called 911, dispatch paged everyone within a certain radius of the emergency. Special pre-recorded tones caused their minitors to beep loudly, alerting them to the emergency. 

They had different tones for ‘urgent response’, ‘potentially life-threatening’, and ‘immediately life-threatening’ situations. The call she received was the former. Luckily everyone at dispatch knew where to find her on a Tuesday night. 

She usually picked up a couple shifts a week working security down at old Sae’s quick-mart. The nights were long and tedious and she spent the majority of them watching the security cameras in the office on the look out for shop-lifters or teens trying to buy beer with fake IDs. Nothing serious, at least, nothing she couldn’t handle with a stern look and few sharp words. 

But this—this was a not not nothing. She hadn’t had a call this serious…maybe ever. 

Working at Sae’s put her within a mile of the garage so that meant she was going to be one of the first responders to make it there. She needed one other person with her before they could leave, as per the rules. More licsenced EMTs could show up and could ride along but they would have to get there before the ambulance took off. 

Her train of thought refocused as she pulled up to the old garage that housed the only ambulance and two working fire trucks that serviced the entire county. She pulled into the closest spot and hopped out down from her truck, ice crunching beneath her boots as she hurried into the garage. 

She was indeed the first one to arrive and she busied herself with pulling on her EMT uniform, getting the ambulance ready to go, making sure the tires were inflated, and chained properly for ice and snow, and turning on the engine and checking that the tank was full-which it was, thankfully. 

Just as she had finished taking a quick inventory of the medical supplies in the backseat she heard a voice call out from the entrance. 

“Always first to answer the call huh, Catnip?” The voice of her oldest and best friend, Gale Hawthorne rang out clearly amidst the rumble of the ambulance’s engine. Of course he would be the second one to the garage. 

“Early bird, and all that yada yada,” She replied as she shut the back doors and strode out to the front. Gale was already shrugging off his old coat and pulling on his EMT coveralls. 

“Hurry up will ya? Any longer and the stragglers will start to show and then we’ll have to let them ride with.” She shouted as she tossed the keyes to the bus over to him before she pulled open the passenger side and slid in. She didn’t really dislike the other EMTs but her and Gale had been friends and partners for years. They had a system and they knew each other like the backs of their own hands. She preferred working with him if she couldn’t work alone, and adding other EMTs just complicated things. 

Gale caught the keyes smoothly, like she knew he would, and he sent her cocky grin before he followed suit and slid into the driver’s seat. 

“Didn’t think you’d be up for letting me drive.” He commented as he strapped in and adjusted the mirror to fit his above average height.

“I wanna be first out when we get on the scene.” She said quickly as she pulled on her seatbelt and then turned on the ambulance radio. It was programmed to tune into the local police frequency and there was already some chatter going on about an accident out on the highway. 

“‘Course you do.” Gale said with a shake of his head. She ignored him in favor of listening to the information the dispatcher was relaying. 

Katniss’ grey eyes narrowed as she heard more details come through.

Jeep Grand Cherokee 1998 crashed out on the highway—around mile marker 113—One driver spotted inside the vehicle—unconscious

“Hurry your ass up!” She hissed at her partner when she heard the last descriptor. Gale shot her a look, but she didn’t even glance at him. She was staring ahead at the road that waited outside the garage as if she could will herself onto it faster. Without further prodding Gale flipped the lights and the ambulance siren on with a flick of his fingers and then they were off, practically peeling out of the garage in the next second. Under different circumstances she might have chewed him out for reckless driving but the roads were practically abandoned tonight and they needed to get on the scene fast. 

Besides, she couldn’t shake the antsy feeling she had since she’d gotten the call. There was something inside of her that was telling her that she just needed to get there as soon as possible. 

The drive out to the highway usually took fifteen minutes. Gale got them there in nine. 

The ambulance finally came to a stop just a few yards past the mile 113 marker. 

Up ahead she could make out the mangled up shape of a jeep that had gone head to head with an old spruce and lost. Unfortunately they weren’t in an ideal position to get the injured party inside the ambulance unless Gale repositioned the vehicle. 

“Hey you said you wanted to be first on the scene.” Gale replied with a shrug as he moved to undo his seatbelt. Katniss shook her head at him. 

“Stay put and back this thing up properly. Doors first!” She bit out tersely as she undid her belt and cracked open her door. She hopped down and shut the door closed on Gale’s complaints, ignoring him completely as she pulled her EMT pack higher on her shoulder and started to march forward. 

Sleet was still coming down heavily, and the road was slippery under her boots but her feet pulled her forward as quickly and surely as a lodestone is drawn to a magnet. 

Before she knew it she was right outside the driver side door, looking in on the man who had been behind the wheel. His face was turned toward her and she could distinguish his featured clearly. 

He was young, maybe in his late twenties, early thirties, he had ashy blond hair that fell in waves over his forehead. She could tell one other thing about him immediately by just looking—he was damn lucky. 

The airbag in his car had properly deployed, from her vantage point she could see the steady rise and fall of his chest. He was knocked unconscious, but not dead. The airbag and the seatbelt he was wearing had most likely saved his life, even though he drove an older model jeep and that sometimes meant that air bags didn’t always work like they should. The only visible injury she could see on him was a gash on his forehead. 

She needed to get him out of the car though, so she could assess the rest of him, check his torso and legs, but he looked kind big. Not as tall as Gale, but broad and stocky, with wide shoulders that were going to be a bitch to manover out of the mashed up wreck of his car if she guessed correctly. 

She tried tapping on his window to get his attention. It would be easier to move him if he was conscious, also he could unlock the doors instead of them having to shatter the window or the windshield and pull him out. But the man in the car didn’t stir. She tapped louder, as she noticed the car’s radio was amazingly still going and it was still playing music. 

Very familiar music. 

Earth stood hard as iron

Water like a stone

Snow had fallen

Snow on snow on snow

In the bleak midwinter

Long, long ago

The version playing was a little known and even less played solo sung by a local artist. It brought back the sounds and stories of her childhood. It brought back the knife edge of pain and loss. That beautiful, effortless voice that sailed over the notes and floated down to mesh with the music was a sound so steeped in memory that for a moment she couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, she was so caught off guard. 

Then there was a pop and a whoosh, the sound of the air bag deflating, and with it the radio sputtered out and died. The disturbance finally seemed to arouse the unconscious driver. 

The bluest eyes she’d ever seen blinked open and locked on her. She stood there staring right back at him, caught up in the bizareness of the situation. 

Then her training kicked in. 

She knocked on the window again and said in her most stern but calm voice, “Sir, you’ve been in an car accident. I need you to unlock your door and roll down the window so I can help you.” 

The man stared at her, in confusion for a second, but then his left hand reached out to do as she had asked. The first thing he said to her when the window came down was not what she was expecting. 

“Am I dead? Are you an angel? Do all angels frown like that?”

[waywardangel-wilds]

hey, i love your writing!!! i wanted to see you write something about k&p complimenting each other's looks. like, katniss still has it since peeta said she's not "particularly pretty" and he has to reassure that he thinks she is the most beautiful woman alive etc thanks S2

Ask and you shall receive (I don't know where this came from):

I pulled the sweater on, running my fingers over my head to tame the static flyway's. I felt the distinct pressure of attention on the back of my skull, and with a smirk, I glanced over my shoulder.

"You're being such a creep right now."

"Am I?" Peeta replied from the other side of the closet. He didn't even pretend not to be staring at me. He just smiled shamelessly, standing there in his socks, boxers, and nightshirt, watching me as if he didn't see me every day. "You just look really pretty."

I rolled my eyes and walked over to the full-length mirror. "Okay," I said, braiding my hair with practiced ease. "If you say so."

"I do say so," he replied amusedly, going about the business of getting dressed for the day. I rolled my eyes, forgetting about the conversation as I assembled my list of tasks for the day. With my braid tied off, I started digging around the closet for my bag. I'd need something to carry the shopping back home with.

"Why do you always do that though?" Peeta asked, but my mind wasn't present, so he had to speak up again. "Katniss? Did you hear me?"

"Hm?" Aha, there it was. Why did I always have to throw it on the floor? "Did you say something?"

"I just asked you why you always roll your eyes when I say you look nice."

"I didn't roll my eyes," I refuted, wondering if we were going to end up having an argument over something.

"You know what I mean, you just always blow it off." he clarified, coming around to my side so he could smile in my direction. Okay not an argument then? "You look nice."

"Thanks," I said with a reluctant tone, rolling my eyes.

"See!" Peeta pointed at me. "Why do you do that?"

I gave him an unimpressed look. "Seriously? Can we just go?"

"Yeah, I guess." He shrugged; sounding put out.

I sighed, "are you mad at me?"

"What? No," Peeta laughed. "Why would I be mad?"

"Then why are you trying to have a fight?" I was exasperated. "It's like you're looking for something to be mad about."

"I'm not mad!" Peeta insisted with another laugh, he looked very confused. "I was just asking."

I crossed my arms, "You're being serious?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Oh," I looked down sheepishly, feeling my cheeks warm with an embarrassed flush. "I don't know."

Peeta shook his head, he looked bewildered. "This is silly, let's just go."

"I just-- I don't know, I guess I don't buy it is all." I admitted with a shrug, turning towards the exit with embarrassment. Peeta stared at me with an eyebrow raised.

"What?"

"You asked!" I tugged at the hem of my sweater. I felt twitchy and weird, like a fish out of water. "Stop looking at me like that!"

"I'm looking at you because you're not making sense," He ducked down to make an incredulous face at me. "Why are you hiding right now?"

"Ugh," I scoffed, pushing him away. "I'm leaving."

"Wait! I'm supposed to be driving you!"

"I'll just walk." I sneered over my shoulder. Well, we were arguing now. I strode across our bedroom and out onto the staircase, Peeta hot on my heels.

"So, what you're saying is that someway, somehow, you, Katniss Everdeen, the prettiest girl to ever come out of District Twelve, think you're not extremely hot?"

I shot him a look over my shoulder, not even bothering to acknowledge that insane statement. I headed for the foyer.

"If you're coming with me, I'm going to need you to shut up."

"One, hurtful." Peeta commented flippantly, lowering my hand when I gave him the finger. "Secondly, I'm just being honest."

I made a face and turned away to pull on my coat, "sure you are."

"Why would I lie?" Peeta asked as he shut the door behind us.

"Hey guys!" Peeta and I waved in reply to our next door neighbor. "I borrowed the wheelbarrow, if you don't mind?"

"That's fine!" I called back, Peeta flashed a thumbs up. I hopped down the stairs and went to yank on the door to Peeta's truck.

"Ah, ah, ah, I have the keys." Peeta waved them above my head. I tried to snatch them, but he just raised his arm higher. "Tell me why you're pissed all of a sudden."

"I'm not the one that's mad!" I insisted.

"And yet you're yelling at me, yikes." Peeta snickered, his free hand palm out to fend me off when I smacked him. "Okay, okay, you're not mad."

"I'm not." I agreed sullenly, crossing my arms. I sighed, realizing he really wasn't going to let it go. "Fine, if you want to know that badly, I know I'm not particularly pretty, or nice, or tall because someone told me."

"Why does that sound so familiar?" Peeta frowned, the realization slowly dawning on him. "Oh, oh no Katniss."

"Yeah ."

"You're being unfair," He frowned at me, going around me to put his key in the door. "You know that," he said, sliding into the drivers side.

I was taken aback, "so you're not going to apologize?"

Peeta leaned an elbow against the open window, "are you actually mad about that or are you using it as an excuse? Because if you really hadn't forgiven me for that you would have said something I'm guessing... six years ago."

I scoffed, rounding the car to climb into the passanger side. "Drive."

"Ouch, seems like I forgot how to do that." He leaned back on his seat dramatically. "I guess we just have to wait until my girlfriend starts being nice to me again."

I tried to glare at him but it was hard to keep the angry thing going when he was so clearly trying not to laugh. I groaned.

"Fine, I don't know. I'm just," I made a face moving my hands around to try to get the message across. "You know?"

"I really don't." He crossed his arms leaning towards me over the gear shift. "You seriously think you're ugly?"

"I," I briefly struggled to string a sentence together. "I guess? Just look at me. I could accept average, I think, on a good day."

He raised his eyebrows, "Wow."

"That's all you're going to say to me?"

"Wow, you're blind." He leaned closer to me, invading my personal space. "Blind."

"Can we go now," I gently pushed him away. "Please? I-just. I think Wendel is staring."

Peeta glanced out of the windshield, making a face as he put his key in the ignition. "Damn, I miss when we were the hermits of the District. Those were the days."

"Everyone thought we were deranged," I said dryly.

"But the privacy couldn't be beat." He turned to look out the rear as he pulled away from the house. Victor's Village hadn't originally been built with the intention of holding a car, let alone Peeta's massive truck, so he had to park in the yard and drive past the fancy wrought iron gate.

"We're not letting this go, just so you know." He said after he got the car on the road. "I'm just trying to keep all the neighbor kids alive."

"I don't want to talk about it anymore."

"Good thing I can talk for the both of us," he waved at an approaching figure. "Hi Mrs. McAlister! Lovely weather we're having. I'd love to stay and chat, but Katniss and I have to get going. Oh! Okay!" He laughed at Mrs. McAlister's usual joke. "Okay, see you!"

"You could roll the window up, you know." I said bitterly for no reason.

"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that because I'm a very nice man." Peeta retorted. "And because we're in the middle of a self-image issue."

"Ugh, you sound like my mother." I cringed thinking about her new 'therapy is the way' approach to life.

"Wha-" Peeta glanced at me with his mouth open, shaking with laughter. "Oh, by the odds, I try to tell you you're beautiful and you tell me I'm a middle aged woman. Where's the love? The poetry? You used to think I was the coolest thing that ever happened to you."

"I never thought that, you're delusional." I accepted the searching hand he placed on my lap, intertwining our fingers. "But thank you for saying that."

"I'm not just saying it, though." He leaned forward to look for an opening before he pulled onto the main road. "I'm being so deadly serious, Katniss. I think you're beautiful because you are."

"Peeta-"

"You have these eyes," he interrupted. "They're so intense. Like smoke. Sometimes, when you look at me it feels like.. God, it feels like fire. Like I'm going to die if I can't be near you."

I slammed my mouth shut, suddenly very interested in his new line of thought.

"You know, for a long time there I thought you couldn't get more beautiful than you already were. You were so serious back then, always frowning, like you were thinking about the hard stuff all the time. But then your smile. Katniss, I love your smile." He smiled at me then, before turning back to the road. "You have these funny uneven teeth, and on anyone else they'd look out of place, but on you? They're perfect."

"You like my buck teeth?"

"I love your little rabbit teeth," he said with a laugh. "And your hair? You have no idea how obsessed I am with you hair. I used to wait for you to fall asleep so I could smell it. It made me feel like a creep."

I laughed, "I knew about the hair."

"And you haven't left me? Wow, you must really like me."

"Just a bit," I agreed leaning over to kiss his cheek. "Thank you."

"Oh, I'm not done. I could write poetry about the curve of your nose. And your hands, even your lips. And we haven't even gotten to the dirty stuff yet. I think I actually did write something about how much I love your boobs once. It's in an old sketchbook somewhere."

I laughed, "I love you, dummy."

"Love you too." He honked. "Hey! Are you blind? Get outta the road!"

[littlemarianah]

Prompt: “How am I supposed to focus when you look at me like that?”

@tetheredfeathers and I started a challenge to write a text between 500 - 1000 words with this prompt.

Click >here< to see her version of this.

Just something fun to pass the time... I ended up writing my new non-reaped AU project, where Katniss and Peeta never go to the games.

I'm tagging these three incredible and talented writers to continue our challenge.

@mollywog @nightlocked-in @rainymyx

title:

The streak of luck.

A tide of luck had swept over me the last few weeks. Spring is always the best time of year to find things in the woods, but this year I outdid myself. I found two bee hives full of honey. It was very painful and I spent days recovering from the bee stings, but I managed to bring two bags full of honeycombs to sell on the rob. Honey is a rare item in district twelve, so it made me a lot of money.

I think that since spring began, there hasn't been a day that goes by that I don't come home with something to sell with. From juicy wild berries to Turkeys, swallows and wild dogs. I've been finding things more valuable lately.

This month, we had the luxury of spending more stuff than just on food. I was able to buy new boots for Prim, cold coat for me and a supply of oils for my mother to make ointments and resell.

And in the end there was still money left. So I bought a sewing thread and a needle. I grabbed my mother's old white dress from the back of the closet. She and Prim did all the repairs for me. Then I took my dress to Hazelle and paid her a good amount to wash it. She asked me for bleach, to remove the yellow stains from age and mold. Then she asked me for violet fabric paint. It was difficult to find something like that on the black market, it ended costing me a whole rabbit.

I was afraid it would turn my dress purple, but she said that the dye mixed in hot water removes all the yellow stains and makes the dress white like never before.

She was right. It was so beautiful it looked like I had bought it brand new.

As I get older and become more and more like my mother, her dress looks more and more like it was made out for me. The straight cut at the collar makes my long neck - which Peeta praises so much - stand out. The long sleeves hide my thin arms. The tight waist makes it my hips look more accentuated than they actually are. It's a simple dress, it looks like a nightgown. However, its fabric is so elegant that I look like a bride from the big city.

My mom puts my hair in a low bun and Prim makes a lavender flower crown to match spring.

The shoes I will wear are a problem. I only have my beat-up hunting boots and old school shoes. None suit the occasion. My mother's shoes are beautiful, but they are so tight on me. I refuse to spend the whole afternoon limping.

There is a third option, which I don't like very much. There are the shoes I used to wear at the reaping. The last time I wore them I was 19 years old, two years ago. This blue heels are so old they look gray.

I wish I had thrown them away, but you can never waste resources like that. Shoes are expensive. Even if they don't bring back good memories, they are still valuable. My mother cleans them and rubs them with lard to make them shiny. I feel weird, but it's my best option at the moment.

So here I am, dressed like a spring bride. And there he is, dressed like a merchant groom. Waiting for me at the door of the Justice Building.

He has combed his hair back and applied gel to keep the curls in place. A perfectly ironed white shirt, black pants with a silver buckle belt and a brown suit over everything, which make his shoulders pointy. He's perfect. On his feet are also his reaping shoes.

“You look so beautiful." he says.

“You too." I reply.

Then we link our arms and wait until they call us. I feel the heat radiating from Peeta. He doesn't usually get nervous, but today his forehead shines with sweat and he fixes his collar compulsively. So far I've counted five times in the last two minutes.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“Oh, my brother lent me this shirt. It's itchy" He groans, awkwarly. I smile at him and he seems to relax.

There are several couples around us, waiting too. Everyone wants to get married in the spring.

Many young women in white. Some with lacy and chic dresses, others with old and yellowed, but all the same holding the hands of their lovers. The young men, one exhausted by work, one covered in coal dust, and another with elegant blue suits and shiny shoes.

We are all there, waiting to get to our turn.

When the door finally opens the old man calls out "Thompson" in a deep voice.

Then a couple enters, the girl with a veil and a garland and the boy with a leather hat. The two are shaking with so much excitement, they are completely in love. Still too young to free themselves from the burden of the Hunger Games. It's not good luck marry before you're 19. So I sigh, and wish them good luck on next summer.

After a few minutes, the couple leaves smiling and receives a round of applause from their family members who are waiting for them outside.

Then the man screams again "Greenwood".

An older, handsome boy, next to him is a blonde girl in a flashy dress. They are accompanied by their parents, elegant merchants. I start stomping my feet anxiously. I want to end the waiting once and for all. After a couple long minutes, they finally leave the building and when I least expect it the man is shouting for "Mellark". I head towards him as if he were calling my own name.

My witness is my mother, I wanted it to be Prim, but she is still a minor. Peeta's witness is his middle brother. He seems a little uncomfortable being there, but he pats Peeta on the back to encourage him.

“Mrs. Everdeen and Mr. Mellark, is it of their own free will that you both meet here today to be united in matrimony?” says the old man.

“Yes.” Peeta said vigorous.

“Yes.” I said in sequence, quieter revealing my nervousness.

Peeta takes my hand gently and squeezes it with his sweaty palm.

I thought I was calm until this moment, now I'm sure I'm terrified. While that old man talks boring things about marriage and laws and the importance of family I get lost in Peeta's flush face. His lips are tight and raised in a restrained smile. I feel my heart skip a beat.

When the man stops talking we each receive a pen. Peeta leans over the thick book first, writing “Peeta Mellark” in cursive. Then it's my turn, my hands shake and I sigh, before finally putting the ink on the paper.

I start with the "K" of my name, with a less sophisticated calligraphy than Peeta's. Now my tremor is visible to everyone around me. Peeta's eyes are the heaviest on me, they make me blush.

“How am I supposed to focus when you look at me like that?” I sigh. He giggles and looks away as I write "Mellark." My new last name.

[harrysdracon]

just thinking about how peeta's love for katniss was probably never so pure after he was hijacked:/