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angelicamerlinbarnes · 3 years

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TUA HUNGER GAMES AU:

(please understand that by AU, I mean they share an incredibly small amount of things in common with the original source material which I barely remember BUT the “story” takes place in the setting of the books/films) (not to be misleading or anything :p)

(BEWARE: abuse, murder, human experimentation, etc.)

(If you can handle watching Umbrella Academy AND The Hunger Games, this will be fine for you.)

(Katniss) Allison doesn’t want to be here, but she wasn’t just gonna let Ray be taken from her by a stupid punishment meant for her great-grandparents. She resolves to win the Games for Ray, so she can make it back to him and they can start their lives together in a better place. But when she wins, her life is changed in ways she never could’ve anticipated.

(Peeta) Luther won a few years ago. He’s Allison’s age, but lives up in Victor’s Village, hiding from the rest of the District. She’s the only one who’s seen him in years, as she brings him food and supplies from town as one of her jobs. She’s fallen in love with him, and he with her, and when she goes to the Games, Luther begins to work with Ray to find and aid the rebellion, hoping to bring her home alive.

(Gale) Ray has understood the tragedy of the Games far better than most others since he was very little. He was chosen when he was twelve, but his sister volunteered for him and died in the last rounds of the Games. He’s been dreaming of running away ever since, writing his pamphlets and letters in hopes of stirring up a revolution, and when Luther approaches him for help, he thinks it might just finally work. He just hopes he doesn’t lose Allison, who he’s been planning on marrying since the day he met her, now that she’s volunteered for him too. Too many people love him, he thinks, and too much.

(Rue) Claire is a young girl Allison makes friends with during her Games, taking on a motherly role to her. Claire is struck down by another tribute, Patrick, and Allison killed him, but not before Claire is already too far gone. Allison holds her as she dies and joins the revolution, eventually, in her name.

(Prim) Vanya fell in love with Sissy a long time ago. Her husband died in the coal mines, and Vanya has been a nanny and second mother to her adopted son Harlan ever since. When Harlan is chosen, Vanya volunteers in his place, knowing she’ll die. Imagine her surprise when Allison saves her with a scheme about sisterly love.

(Johanna) Lila was one of the younger victors, known for seeming meek and eventually murdering over half her fellow tributes to win. She went mad with grief and rage after the Games, and only Diego, her beloved brother who she volunteered for, could calm her. Eudora is her lover, though they keep it exceptionally quiet, and she’s incredibly close with Five, though they’ll never be self-sacrificial for one another, as it breaks their agreement to respect each other as warriors. Lila’s ready to murder Reginald for what he did to her family - but first she wants to murder the Handler, who’s kept her on a leash for years by threatening Diego’s life.

(Finnick) Eudora is a victor, and the capital’s darling. She’s quite daring and charming, and seeks to help and mentor every tribute she can, not just those from her District. She, Diego, and Lila, a victor she mentored and later her lover, were childhood friends and were all possible contenders for the Games, though Diego never participated despite being Reaped twice because both Eudora and Lila volunteered for him. She considers Diego a brother, and ensures he is safe when his rebellion threatens his life. She is the hero of the revolution, and eventually takes over as President of Umbrellacademy (Panem) after the war is won.

(Snow) Reginald is the President of Umbrellacademy, and is hated by every District. Five has tried multiple times to kill him, but Reginald has escaped his murderous clutches every time. With each attempt, Reginald has locked Five away in a pitch-black room deep beneath the ground for days or weeks on end with only food and water as signs of life. Because of this, Five is distrusting and angry and doesn’t show loyalty to those if he can help it, yet is terrified of being alone. (Five is, however, the one who executes Reginald in the end. Because he goddamn deserves to.)

(Coin / Dr. Gaul) The Handler runs the Commission (District 13), a former District bombed into nothing in the first war. Five became her ally when he won, but soon realized she held nothing but contempt for the people of the Districts just like Reginald, and escaped from her. She keeps a tight grasp on Lila, who she knows was Five’s ally and friend, and works even harder towards her goal of taking over Umbrellacademy and ruling the lands for herself. In the end, Lila kills her when she gives her an ultimatum: choose unfathomable power and riches and kill Five, or choose Five and die by his side. Lila gives her a sad look and plunges her sword into the Handler’s heart wordlessly, gathering Five to her chest.

(Haymitch) Five has been bitter and angry since his victory, which occurred in the first quarter quell. His District chose him overwhelmingly, voting for him to be in the Games because he offered to give up his life for their children by being the tribute, knowing he could win. The trouble came when his fellow tribute Dolores, an unwanted, became his ally and friend, eventually sacrificing herself for him. One of her snakes bit him and the venom made him ageless, so he’s looked thirteen for forty-five years. He helps run the resistance, eventually leading it as the war worsens and they lose more and more people. Because of Dolores, he does not allow anyone to get too close to him, but is kind and loyal to anyone he does choose to hold his favor - Lila, Diego, Klaus, Allison, Luther, Vanya, and Ben. Though he’s gone mad from his traumatic experiences and time alone, he’s still one of Umbrellacademy’s most treasured citizens, and lives celebrated as a war hero by every survivor comes the war’s end.

(Effie) Klaus travelled to the Capitol when he was seventeen after his lover Dave volunteered for him in District 12. Horrified, Klaus followed him as a stowaway on the train, earning Five’s respect and protection. When Dave died, Klaus was devastated, and turned to drinking and partying to drown his woes. He works for the resistance with Five, but keeps his persona so bubbly and aloof nobody would ever suspect him of being even nearly as smart as he is. He’s found ways to manipulate the Capitol’s scientific brilliance for his own tributes’ advantage, once he won his right to be an escort for his District following Dave’s death. He used this knowledge to save one of his tributes, Ben, whom he formed so strong an attachment to they became near-lovers, partners in all but the physical. Klaus faked his death during training and preserved his spirit in the body of a mockingjay, who he keeps as a pet. He is dangerous, but vulnerable - for all his brilliance, Klaus is prone to emotional attachments, and finds himself making careless mistakes when the lives of his loved ones are threatened.

(Cinna) Diego is the fashion designer for District 12, having come to the Capitol with his sister Eudora after she won her Games. They’re both from District 4, but he instead chooses to work for 12, entranced by the District’s escort Klaus from their first meeting. The two fall deeply in love, but only acknowledge it in coded conversations and never touch if they can help it, knowing that to take any risk in revealing their feelings for each other would result in one or both of them being killed by the Capitol as an example. Diego has another sister in Lila, who volunteered for him when he was Reaped a second time, and protects both of them with his life. He is close to Five, who he works with closely when training tributes, and immediately recognizes Allison as the face of their rebellion, risking his life for her in the hopes that she will lead them to a better world where he can finally hold Klaus in his arms.

(Cato) Leonard is a tribute in Allison’s Games. He tries to kill Vanya, which prompts Allison to kill him towards the end of the Games. Though he had very little chance originally due to being from the incredibly poor District 8, he grew in danger with every tribute dead, and was well-known for his manipulative charm that won him many sponsors. Allison’s hatred of him does not stop him from showing himself as a prominent victim in her many traumatic dreams.

Hazel and Cha-Cha are peacekeepers, both of whom have wavering loyalties to the Capitol. Hazel is on the fence because he fell in love with a District 12 marketplace vendor, Agnes, and Cha-Cha has been in touch with the Commission for years, hoping to bring the rebellion to the forefront and finally make a safe home with Hazel that isn’t so structured and merciless. This is made difficult by the fact that the Handler has complete control over them, threatening Agnes’ life if they don’t cooperate, and they’ll both do anything to save her - Hazel because he loves her, and Cha-Cha because she loves Hazel.

Agnes is a woman from District 12 who sells tributes lucky charms. She gave Allison her wolf, and Five his snake, and Klaus his mockingjay, and continues to help her people in whatever way she can, offering them bread and treats in secret whenever she manages to scrounge some from Hazel and Cha-Cha. She’s a prominent figure in the black market, but dies when District 12 is bombed, prompting Hazel and Cha-Cha to begin infiltrating the Peacekeepers from the inside despite the overwhelming risks.

(Lucy Gray) Dolores was Five’s ally and friend in his Games, one who shared his emblem of snakes. She learned to control them and change their venom’s property with herbs, granting Five agelessness when she had one bite him just before dying in his arms, having sacrificed herself so he could win. Her death cemented Five’s hatred of the Games and Capitol and his belief of attachments as weaknesses, and he often hallucinates her and speaks with her phantom when he’s locked away from the world, leading her to be known as a sore subject with Five and his greatest weakness. (That is, until his new family comes along and gives him something to fight for.)

(Mockingjay) Ben was a tribute in one of Klaus’ first Games as an escort, and he fell in deep platonic love with him. The two remained bonded throughout the years, as Klaus saved Ben by faking his death and keeping him in the body of a mockingjay until their victory in the second war, and Ben stayed by Klaus’ side for all that time as his beloved pet. Klaus would receive the names of marks from Five and give Ben poison to kill them with, having found a way to alter the venom in Ben’s talons from records of Dolores and Five’s Games, and a couple of vague and shallow conversations between himself and the latter. When Ben returns to his human form, Klaus tugs him into his arms and thanks him for all he’s done, never leaving his side again.

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nothingeverlost · 3 years

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On the Wings of an Owl (3/?)

Remus and Sirius both go back to the beginning to find a friend.

Prologue I Chapter 1

All Roads Lead Back to Hogwarts

There were few places in the world that Remus would like to avoid more than Hogwarts. The place was both haunted with the memories of a happier time and full of people he didn’t want to see. It was unfortunate that he couldn’t shake the feeling of obligation when it came to letting Dumbledore know of his plans. There were also a few research items in the library that weren’t anywhere else, to his knowledge. He knew how his friends had turned into animals; now he needed to learn how to make one of them turn back into a human, or at least as close as one could be to human when they had betrayed their friends.

“Yorkshire pudding.” He managed to get through most of the castle without seeing anyone except Professor Trewlany who hadn’t looked in his direction when she’d walked past. Perhaps she thought he was another spirit haunting the place. The password from a month ago was surprisingly still good, the staircase revealing itself to him. As he ascended Remus couldn’t decide what he hoped for the most, that Dumbledore would be alone so he could deliver his plans swiftly and be on his way, or that the headmaster was not in his office and he could delay his errand for another day.

“Remus, this is a surprise.” Dumbledore sat at his desk, a stack of papers beside him. So it was to be option number one, apparently.

“Is it? You always seemed to know when I was coming, even when it wasn’t planned.” For most of the past year he had been asked to stay away from Order meetings as his own assignment was something that was supposed to be a secret. Most of his meetings had been with Dumbledore either in his office or in Hogsmead. Every time he’d arrived there had been some small sign of Dumbledore’s awareness; a book for him to borrow, a bar of Honeyduke’s chocolate, a folded copy of the Profit open to an article be needed to see. Too often he’d learned of a friend’s death alone in this room with Dumbledore.

“I thought perhaps you would be in Weybridge.” Remus almost had to laugh at the serious suggestion from Dumbledore. Did he really not know anything that had happened in the last year? The relationships that had cracked, the arguments, the long silences and suggestions of doubt? The headmaster usually prided himself on knowing more than anyone.

“There’s no reason for me to be there.” He’d assumed that Sirius would go there; from all accounts the house in Godrick’s Hollow wasn’t livable anymore. It was good to have confirmation.

“I’m not sure that’s the way other people would see it. Harry…”

“Jame and Lily’s son has his godfather and his grandparents. He will be protected and cared for.” The pain of thinking about James was too much. The loss of Lily was almost as bad. He couldn’t speak of them to anyone, and certainly not to a man that had once promised they would be safe. And thinking about Sirius made it impossible to breathe. “But I didn’t come to talk about him, at least not directly. I wanted you to know that I’m going after Peter.”

“I supposed I should have expected that.” Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable.

“No one has found him yet. I know him better than any Auror.” He didn’t know Peter at all, not if he could have so completely betrayed them all. The boy he’d shared a dorm with for seven years had been a friend and a bad liar, not someone who could sell out James to Voldemort. Still, he did know more about the man’s habits and likes than anyone else alive. “And I don’t have anything else to do now.”

“The war is over now, Remus. There will be new opportunities.”

“For a werewolf?” he scoffed. He wasn’t sure if Dumbledore was really so naive, or if he just didn’t want to admit out loud that he’d educated Remus out of pity for a future he could never really have. “We’re not the most popular creatures in the best of times, sir. It’s only going to be worse for now. But that’s neither here nor there. Someone needs to find Peter. It makes the most sense if that person is me.”

“I had hoped…” Dumbledore shook his head. “There are a great many things that I had hoped would have turned out differently, but nothing can change what has already happened. Madame Pince should be able to help you with your task. There is a spell you’ll want to practice, to reveal Mr. Pettigrew’s form. Will Mr. Black be joining you on your journey?”

“Do you really imagine there’s any situation in which I could bring him back alive if I took Sirius?” He hadn’t seen his friend since James had died. Sirius had been locked up when the Potters had a funeral. Since then Remus had stayed in Wales. He knew without having to think, though, how Sirius would react. He did not handle betrayal with anything less than vengeance.

“Yes, I suppose…”

“Headmaster?” The door opened and Remus froze. He knew that voice.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He had his wand raised and a spell at the tip of his tongue when he turned to see Snape standing on the doorway.

“That is between myself and Dumbledore.” Snape’s expression was carefully schooled, his wand at his side.

“The only thing that should be between you and anyone at Hogwarts is a dementor. I know what you did to Benji.” Remus moved quicker than people expected sometimes, especially people he’d gone to school with. They were so used to looking at Sirius and James that they didn’t pay attention to him. Before Snape could answer Remus pushed up the sleeve of his robes, revealing the tattoo on his arm. The same tattoo that every other Death Eater wore. He wondered if Peter bore the mark as well. How much had they missed in the last year? “I know what you are.”

“Do you really, Lupin? It seems to me that your observation skills are somewhat lacking, but perhaps you should ask Potter about that.” Remus shoved Snape against the wall, wand pressed against his neck, anger making his heart race.

“Severus that was quite unnecessary. I hope I don’t have to point out that an apology is in order.” Dumbledore rested his hand on Remus’s shoulder. Remus’s hands shook as he lowered his wand.

“I apologize,” Snape said with a lack of sincerity.

“Remus, I know you’re anxious to get started. I hope I will hear from you soon regarding the outcome of your task.” It was a blatant dismissal to anyone who knew him well.

“I can’t leave you alone with him.” Snape had always made Remus uneasy, but he’d tried to push aside his feelings until it had become clear that Snape was the same as his housemates.

“I will be fine, though you are good to worry. Severus and I have things to talk about.” Dumbledore squeezed his shoulder again. There was nothing he could do, not once Dumbledore made up his mind.

“I won’t be far.” He would have to check on the headmaster before he left and make sure nothing had happened. After all Dumbledore’s instincts might have helped them win a war but they were far from perfect.

It took three days before Sirius was able to manage a decent Patronus spell. Happy memories were in short supply, but the vision of Harry spitting out pureed carrots while saying ‘Pad-foo no’ and then giggling when the carrots wound up on Sirius’s face instead was enough to help him focus. He’d sent two owls to Remus but both had come back with the letters still carried with them. A Patronus was his third attempt. Certainly things between him and Remus had been strained in the last year but the war was over and they were the only two Marauders left. They needed to fix things between them.

He didn’t want to think about the possibility that Remus might not want to repair their friendship.

“I don’t know what to do, Effie. I need to talk to him.” Once upon a time he’d teasingly called Euphemia ‘mum,’ mimicking James and teasing that she liked him better. He couldn’t do it now, not when her son was gone and he didn’t deserve to sully the memory by using the name. He’d settled on Effie and she didn’t seem to mind.

“He’s a quiet lad, our Remus. Always seemed like he drew in on himself when he was troubled. Maybe he needs some time alone.” Harry slept in his playpen in the morning room. Sirius wasn’t good at letting him out of view, and paced the room while keeping the playpen in view.

“The last time we talked…” But no, Sirius doesn’t want to think about that. “Things between us haven’t been good for a while. What if he’s not just taking time? What if he doesn’t think he’s wanted?”

“Harry will be quite safe here with Monty and me. Why don’t you visit him in person and make sure he knows how you feel. And tell him he’s welcome here always. He came to the funeral but he left before anyone could talk to him. I was sad I wasn’t able to speak with him.” Effie rested a hand on his forearm. “Both of you meant so much to my boy. He would only want the best for you.”

“James meant everything to us too.” Every time he said the name out loud he wanted to cry, but he needed to be stronger than that for Effie and Harry. “He hated that Remus and I weren’t talking.”

“You still have time to fix things, Sirius.” She kissed his cheek.

“Maybe if all goes well I’ll bring him home for dinner.” His mind made up, Sirius didn’t want to wait any longer. He checked on Harry on last time, stopped in the hall to put on his shoes and get a coat, and apparated to the edge of the Lupin family farm.

The place was dark.

“Remus?” The front door was locked but opened easily with a basic alohomora. It was sloppy security, and surprising for someone who had just spent years fighting a war. There were signs that Remus had been there recently; a teacup beside the sink, a Daily Profit on the table that was only two days old, and a lack of dust on most surfaces. Sirius didn’t know what it was exactly that told him Remus wasn’t coming back tonight, but he knew. Still he scribbled a note and left it on the table, letting Remus know he was with the Potters and that Harry wanted to see him.

He checked the last flat Remus had been renting, but someone else was living there. He tried a few other places he could think of; a favorite bookshop, a muggle bar they used to frequent when he and James and Remus and Peter sometime met up on Friday nights, the Three Broomsticks. It was when he was walking out of the Three Broomsticks that he gritted his teeth and made himself check the shrieking shack. The damage to the place was older, lacking any recent fresh marks. Remus hadn’t transformed there this month. The fact that he didn’t know where Remus had been transforming for the past year was a pain in his stomach that he didn’t want to deal with right now. James had been focused on protecting his family and Peter was more of a rat than they ever could have known, and the only person that could have made Remus’s transformations more bearable was himself.

Without knowing what else to do he found himself headed for Hogwarts, up a familiar path to the castle from Hogsmead, first traveled with so much joy when he and his mates had been allowed into the village second year, now traveled so much slower and infinitely more alone.

It was late enough in the afternoon that most classes were over. Students who had been in their first years when he graduated were now as tall as him, wandering mostly in groups, looking at him curiously but staying their distance. In a war any stranger was a threat and they had learned well to only stay with people they knew. It would take their whole world time to learn to trust again.

“You seem to be a mite lost, Mr. Black. You do remember graduating I hope?” The first person to stop as he walked the halls was McGonagall. Of course it was. He couldn’t help but grin, wondering just how many times in seven years she had caught him in a place he wasn’t supposed to be. She looked almost the same as she always had, though a little thinner than he remembered with hands that showed their age a little more. He’d last seen her at an Order meeting months ago, when plans were being made to put both the Longbottoms and Potters in hiding. The entire world had changed since then.

“I suppose graduating means you can't take any house points from Gryffindor? It would hardly be fair to them.” He wanted to hug her, a rare impulse that he might have indulged in if James or Remus were around, just to make them laugh. For a moment he was a boy again, caught outside the common room, his worst fear that they wouldn’t win the house cup.

“I’m sure I could come up with something suitable.” Her expression softened as her voice dropped. “How is Harry? Albus said you were staying with Euphemia and the boy. I was relieved to hear your name had been cleared.”

“He misses his mum and dad.” Every time he wailed for ‘mum’ or asked ‘dada?’ hopefully Sirius’s heart cracked a little more. He wasn’t sure how much a heart could fracture and still function but it seemed to be an infinite number of times.

“Of course he does, poor boy.” McGonagall smiled wistfully. Sirius remembered hearing that her nephew had been killed earlier in the war. No one had been spared from their share of the pain. “It’s good that he still has his grandparents. And you, of course. Lily had a sister as well, didn’t she?”

“Not one worth talking about. She’s a useless bint, married to a plonker. Doesn’t have a kind bone in her body. I wouldn’t trust her to care for a hamster let alone a child.” She had a kid, he remembered vaguely, but that didn’t matter. The way she’d talked about Lily and made her cry was enough for him to know that she didn’t deserve to even look at Harry.

McGonagall shook her head, but didn’t comment on Petunia. Sirius had the feeling that she knew more about the situation than a vague “she had a sister” but there was no point in wasting any time thinking about it. “Did you come here for a reason, Mr. Black? I don’t believe Dumbledore is here right now.”

“I’m trying to find Remus and I don’t know where else to look.” It sounded faintly ridiculous when he said it out loud, but the threads that tied them together ran strongly through Hogwarts and he needed to follow them. Not for the first time he wished that the map that they’d made covered more than just the school grounds.

“Mr. Lupin isn’t here now, but I believe he did visit a few days ago.” There was a look in her eyes that told him that she might know more, but she was well used to keeping her own counsel about things.

“I mucked things up badly. We knew there was a spy, and Remus wouldn’t tell me what he was doing, and I...” He took a breath and shifted his weight from foot to foot. McGonagall was a rare person whose opinion of him actually mattered and he hated to imagine what she might think of him. “I have to fix things.”

“I don’t know what he and Albus talked about, that is between them, but I think I have some idea of how Mr. Lupin might think. The war might be over but there’s at least one loose end that’s still unraveled for which he might feel a great deal of responsibility.”

“Peter.” Without realizing it his hand reached for his wand, hand wrapping tight around it. They had fought, just hours after finding James and Lily dead and understanding how it happened. He had tracked Peter down and the fact that they were on a muggle street hadn’t mattered. The fact that he had beaten Peter in any duel they'd ever fought hadn’t mattered. All that mattered was that James was dead and Peter had made it happen. Peter, with fear in his eyes. His mate, the Death Eater.

“The Aurors haven’t had any luck tracing him. Some people are arguing that he can’t be found because he’s dead.”

“I didn’t kill him.” They had dueled, and for one moment he thought that maybe in his rage he had killed his former friend, but he’d seen Peter transform too many times to miss the signs. The rat had escaped, leaving behind a finger. His stomach turned knowing that Peter had severed his own flesh. That he had known it would be necessary.

“I believe Remus is of the same mind on that, and I think we both know what that means.”

“Remus has gone after him.” Alone, Sirius didn’t add. It should have been the both of them, sharing the weight, but instead Remus was somewhere owls and a Patronus couldn’t find him, tracking down the man who had once been their friend.

“I believe so.” McGonagall nodded in the direction of her office. “There’s tea and biscuits if you’d like to come with me.”

“Thanks, but I need to get back to Harry.” Even a few months ago the offer would have been something to delight in; he was not one to be offered a biscuit from a professor often. But he needed time alone to take in what he’d learned and figure out what to do next.

“Be well, Mr. Black. And tell Euphemia and Monty I said hello.”

“Yes, professor.” He had to walk out of the castle and down the path past the gate before he was able to apparate. Before he went inside he looked up at the sky just starting to get dark and the waning moon. Somewhere Remus was in a strange land, alone. If he got himself killed hunting Peter Sirius was going to find a resurrection stone to bring him back just so he could be the one to kill him. Damn Remus and his refusal to ask for help or believe that he was worth more than being a sacrificial lamb. And damn himself, for helping Remus to believe he wasn’t worth more.

The cottage where Peter had grown up was empty, the dust too thick for anyone to have been there for months, The food in the pantry well past any sell-by date. Remus hadn’t expected Peter to be anywhere so obvious, but he had to rule it out. There was a fort in the woods behind the house that the Aurors wouldn’t have known about. From the crisp packets and empty cans of beans it looked like Peter had stopped by more recently, though not for long. It looked like maybe he had slept there once before moving on.

Peter’s aunt claimed that she hadn’t heard from him in over a year and Remus believed her. After living for so many years with James and Sirius his bullshit detector was refined and he was good at judging lies. Peter didn’t have any more relatives, his parents both being dead. The only person he’d dated seriously since school had ended was Mary McDonald and it was ridiculous to think that she would have anything to do with helping a Death Eater.

Many of the known Death Eaters were already in Azkaban, Aurors working fast in the last weeks. There were others, of course, who had been better about hiding who they were, or claimed that they only acted under the Imperious curse. Remus questioned a few, but didn’t find any sympathy for Peter amoung them. Peter’s actions might have killed James and Lily, but they had also eliminated Voldemort and ended a war that Death Eaters had been certain they were winning. Peter wouldn’t find any aide in that quarter.

Once Remus eliminated any options in England he prepared to search farther afield. Peter had to be hiding somewhere. Remus would find him.

He would start in France, Remus decided, as French was the only language Peter spoke other than English. He’d loved Paris when they all went the summer after graduation. It was as good a place as any to begin.

#wolfstar #wolfstar fic #remus x sirius #sirius x remus #remus lupin x sirius black #sirius black x remus lupin #harry potter #harry potter fic #my fic

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everlarkficexchange · 7 years

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Mockingjay Inn

Written by: @burkygirl

Prompt 25: Katniss and Peeta are both frequent pop-in guests at an out-of-the-way B&B. One weekend, it is surprisingly booked up and the manager asks if they can share a suite in an effort to be less of an inconvenience for such loyal customers and since they sort of know each other. (Submitted by @roseymama )

Rated E, Trigger warnings for smut, a few curse words and mentions of a dying family member.

———

The silver Civic slipped up the paved drive that sloped through the woods before bursting into the clearing where a white, two-storey colonial waited serenely, like a queen holding court.

The driveway twisted around a shade garden tucked into a copse of trees and Katniss veered into the parking area, pushing the grief that threatened to overwhelm her away long enough to shift the car into neutral, set the parking brake and turn the key. Closing her eyes, she let her head fall against the headrest and drew in a breath. Her belly filled with air and then she expelled it slowly, imagining the stresses of her day floating away. She did it again. And again, drawing the negative energy along her limbs and visualizing it drifting away on the breath. Some days it helped.

Today was not one of those days, not after the news Prim had delivered this afternoon.

Her eyelids fluttered open and the square corners of the heritage home came back into view; its perfect symmetry, its black shutters and red front door bidding her welcome. The sheltering walls of the Mockingjay Inn had become a second home to her these last months. She loved this old house, tucked away in the woods, invisible from the main road and advertised only by word of mouth. Her old school friend, Madge, had painstakingly renovated it after inheriting it from her grandmother a few years ago. It was a labour of love for Madge, who seemed to have planted her spring flowers since Katniss was here last week. She spotted the happy faces of pansies peeking out from around the hostas that lined the beds next to the house and red and white petunias spilled from the urns on the front steps.

When she stepped from the car, the heady rush of the crisp breeze set her heart racing and teased at the hem of her skirt. A fresh gust whipped the wayward wisps of raven hair that always escaped the confines of her braid. She breathed deeply again, filling her body with the brisk, clean air and whisking away the stench of slow decay and antiseptic attempting to permeate her bones. This time, her exhale carried a piece of her burden away.

Her sorrow eased, however briefly, Katniss popped open the trunk of her car and grabbed her black overnight bag. She’d go inside, get checked in, and then curl up in front of the Inn’s fireplace with a glass of wine. If she was lucky, Peeta would be there already and they could chat. It was a real stroke of luck that his business seemed to bring him to Panem, New York every week since she’d first met him here at the Inn. There were few things she enjoyed more than sitting beside Peeta as he sketched whatever came to mind and they talked about the days that had passed since they last saw each other. She loved putting aside the drama of her own life to listen to stories about the eccentric customers who frequented his gallery.

Her feet all but flew up the steps and she breezed through the door only to find Madge and Peeta engaged in a serious conversation near the antique dresser that Madge had placed in the foyer and from which she liked to conduct her business.

Peeta’s hand was fisted in the golden curls at the back of his head. He pulled his hair and then released it to scratch at the back of his neck. In the dresser’s mirror, Katniss could see that his face was twisted in consternation while Madge tried, a little desperately, to convince him of something.

Madge’s offered Katniss a bright smile as the door closed behind her. “Hello, Katniss. Welcome back!”

Peeta nodded in her direction, the expression in his usually bright blue eyes still troubled. “Katniss.”

“What’s going on?” Katniss dropped her bag on the Oriental rug arranged under the chandelier in the middle of the room.

Peeta grimaced and dropped his hand to the granite top of the dresser. “You’re going to love this one, Katniss.”

Madge shushed him. “Katniss, the Inn has just been given a remarkable opportunity. A team from a Capitol TV travel show is coming to do a story on the area and they want to feature the Mockingjay Inn as Panem’s best kept secret.”

Katniss’s chest surged with pride for her friend. “Well, it is,” she said firmly. “That’s wonderful, Madge! Such great exposure for you!”

Madge beamed, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement. “It is. I’m so thrilled. I just knew you’d understand.”

Peeta scoffed. “No, she doesn’t Madge. You haven’t told her when they’re arriving.”

A leery tingle of suspicion crept up Katniss’s spine. “When, Madge?”

“Tonight,” her friend enthused. “So, if you and Peeta would just agree, then everything will be just perfect.”

“Madge…” Peeta warned.

Madge caught her perfect pink bottom lip between her teeth. “Well, you see, Katniss,” she cleared her throat. “They will be staying tonight, to get the full experience. They require four rooms, and the Inn has-”

“Five,” Peeta interrupted impatiently. “The Inn has five rooms. Madge wants us to share a room.”

“No,” Madge corrected hastily. “The Inn has six bedrooms. The master suite has two bedrooms. It’s usually booked by families, but you and Peeta are such good friends, Katniss, that I’m sure it would work. I’ll cut your rate in half for tonight, if you’ll agree.”

Katniss had to admit that a cut on her room was rather appealing. Travelling up to Panem from the city each weekend was costing her a fortune. She could stay elsewhere, but the lonely, cookie-cutter rooms of the hotels in the downtown held no appeal at all. She could stay at her sister Prim’s house but that felt like a prison sentence, especially after Prim’s revelation today. The quiet of the Inn and her time with Peeta have been her oasis in the middle of this ordeal. She wasn’t sure she would get through the night if she wasn’t able to put her troubles aside for a little while and enjoy his company. Plus, she knew she would be safe with him in the suite.

“Okay,” she decided. “I’ll allow it.”

She almost laughed at their reactions. Madge’s face was the picture of relief. Peeta’s was filled with shock.

“Really?” they said in unison.

She shrugged. “Who am I to turn down a cheap night in a four-star bed and breakfast?”

“Peeta?” asked Madge. Katniss watched him clear his throat and nod.

“If Katniss is comfortable with it, then I’ll be fine,” he softly replied.

Madge was still clapping her hands in glee when Katniss turned to pick up her suitcase and started for the mahogany staircase. “Alright Madge, show us tonight’s accommodations.”

——

The room was not what she expected.

As they’d travelled up the broad steps in the heart of the house, Madge had nattered on about her master suite, then she’d opened the door to the room and whisked off to prepare the other rooms for her Capitol TV guests.

A queen-sized four-poster bed dressed in a russet orange duvet graced the main room of the suite and was heaped with a mound of plush and inviting pillows. In the corner, a couple of rich leather armchairs with embroidered footstools flanked a gas fireplace. Two doors stood firmly closed on each side of the bed. Behind one door was a tiny private bathroom with a marble stand up shower. Behind the other was tucked a double bed and a small nightstand. Madge had obviously renovated a walk-in closet and a dressing room to construct the suite. It was perfect for a family with young children.

Not so perfect for a couple of friends, Katniss thought, and scowled. “We’ve been bamboozled.”

Beside her, Peeta huffed in frustration. “I’m not sure how to be the gentleman here,” he frowned. “If I take the smaller bed, I compromise your privacy. If I take the bigger bed, I’ve consigned you to the smaller room.” He scrubbed his hand over his face. “We could get rooms in town?”

She turned to observe Peeta watching her warily. His light blue button-down was hanging over a pair of well-worn jeans, its sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms. His leather overnight bag still hung from his shoulder. Was he expecting her to have a fit over their accommodations? Not likely. It was still better than her alternatives. At least he wasn’t suggesting they split up. She was a little afraid to be alone with her thoughts. They’d pull her under and she’d never find her way out. Dropping her bag on the butler’s bench poised at the foot of the bed, Katniss shook her head. “We’re here now. We’ll just have to make the best of it. We can flip a coin for the bed later.” She lowered herself to the bench. “How was your week?”

The corner of his mouth twitched and he closed the space between them, dropping his bag on the hardwood floor as he perched on the edge of the bed. “Not bad. Ms. Trinket finally bought that piece she’s been eying.”

“That was the modern one with all the bright colours, right?”

Peeta nodded. Effie Trinket, a retired Broadway actress who Katniss figured had more money than brains, was one of Peeta’s customers. “That’s the one. Then I sold her a sculpture of a man made out of recycled cans. His legs once held creamed corn, I swear.”

Katniss couldn’t help it, she laughed. “She lurves you, Peeta. She’d take anything you’re selling. You’ll be husband number 6, I just know it. “

Peeta shuddered. “I’m pretty sure she made more money collecting on divorce settlements than she ever made on the stage. Her latest husband, Mitch, I think his name is, answered the door when I made the delivery this week. He was as drunk as a skunk.”

Katniss’s eyes rounded. “You’re doing the deliveries now?”

“Only if the client pays for a professional installation. Which Effie always does.”

She shook her head in resignation. “Effie, huh? Well, you’ll have to be sure to give me her address before you leave. If you don’t show up here next Saturday, I’ll send the police to check her basement. She’ll have you tied to a post, trying to make you her love slave.”

Peeta gagged and threw himself back against the bed, clapping his hand over his face “You’re going to give me nightmares.”

Katniss was still laughing when he raised his hand and turned his head to look at her; his face so close to hers that she could count each one of his long, golden eyelashes.

“Don’t worry, Katniss. I’ll be here next week. Wild horses couldn’t keep me away,“ he whispered, brushing her cheek with the pad of his thumb.

Katniss wondered if they’d ever been this close before. She’d never noticed the flecks of grey in the blue pools of his eyes or the tiny freckles that sprayed across his nose. His lips were smooth and softly parted.

A swift rap on the door interrupted her train of thought. “I opened you guys a bottle of merlot in the drawing room,” Madge called out from the other side before carrying on down the hall.

Peeta’s hands slapped against his knees as he sat up. “A drink before dinner sounds great.” He stood, and offered his hand to Katniss. “Shall we?”

She took it and Peeta’s long fingers wrapped securely around hers as she followed him to the door. She missed their steadiness when he let go to allow her passage over the threshold ahead of him, but then they ghosted along the small of her back as he guided her through. The warmth of his touch lingered all the way down the stairs and into the drawing room.

After Peeta poured them each a glass of wine, they settled into their usual spots on the couch in front of the fireplace and Peeta began a story about his client, Mr. Craine, his strange beard and his taste for phallic imagery in modern art.

“Honestly, Katniss, I showed him a cubist portrait the other day. I told him the subject’s nose, which was located where the ear should be, appeared to have been subtly but deliberately widened at the base, and he bought it on the spot.”

Katniss looked pensive. “I wonder if you could sell him a still life bowl of fruit.”

“If it’s got bananas in it, consider it sold.”

They were still snickering when they heard the entrance door burst open and the house was filled with chatter.

“Lovely, just lovely,” boomed a pompous voice. “It’s so perfectly quaint and cozy. What do you want to bet her grandmother’s needlepoint hangs over the fireplace?”

A high-pitched female voice tittered and Katniss peered up at the mantle. She thought the intricate needlepoint was probably done by Madge’s great grandmother, but wasn’t sure what was so hilarious about valuing where you came from.

Another female voice, this one lower and more soothing murmured to the group.

“I don’t know, Cressida. Is there a bell on that old dresser, there?” the male voice replied. “Ring it, why don’t you?”

“No need, no need.” They could hear Madge bustle in and begin tending to their varying needs. Yes, the heat had been turned down in Mr. Heavensbee’s room. There were no feathers on Ms. Cardew’s bed. Yes, the rooms were large enough to store the equipment. Yes, Madge could provide a vegetarian meal for dinner. No, vegan was not an option. Yes, the list of Cressida’s food allergies had arrived by email. Yes, she had free wifi. Yes, there were private bathrooms in each guest suite. No her towels were cotton, not bamboo.

Peeta rolled his eyes and Katniss laughed again.

“You’re sure you don’t want to stay downtown?”

She imagined herself dissolving into tears in a sterile hotel room. “I’m positive.” Peeta smiled at her and raised his glass to sip his wine. “There’s no way we could drink wine and talk about penis paintings in a hotel lobby.”

Peeta was still choking when the rotund body that belonged to the booming voice in the entryway appeared in the doorway to the room.

“Brilliant! Other guests.” His beefy hands collided in a swift clap and then he rubbed them together. “Plutarch Heavensbee. I’m the producer of Byways and Getaways for Capitol TV. We’re doing a segment on the town and the inn. But, don’t you worry. Your visit will not be disturbed.”

Peeta, now recovered, offered him an easy smile and stood, offering his hand. “Peeta Mellark, “ he said and gestured to Katniss. “My friend, Katniss Everdeen.”

“A pleasure to meet you, “ Plutarch enthused. Katniss wished she could say the same. He had invaded her favourite space and now he was interrupting her Peeta time. “What brings you to the inn?”

“Just up for the weekend, “ he replied, and Katniss thought it odd that he didn’t mention he had business in the area.

“Exactly the demographic we are trying to reach with our show. I knew we were right about this place. Where do you hail from?”

“I’m the curator of PMG in the city. Katniss lives there too. She’s an environmental engineer.“

Katniss reached out her hand to shake Plutarch’s and it felt like she’d wrapped her fingers around a dead fish. Her father used to say that a man’s handshake told you all you needed to know about him. “It’s a pleasure, Katniss. Well, what do you think? Isn’t this the perfect spot for a romantic getaway?”

“I suppose,” Katniss conceded, though she found it hard to imagine staying here without tragedy looming over her head. “I’m from Panem, actually, so I’m just here to see my family.”

“No reason why the two of you can’t mix family obligations with a little romance, especially in a setting like this one,” said Plutarch with a laugh before turning to Peeta.

As Plutarch and Peeta continued with their social niceties – it turned out Plutarch had heard of Peeta’s gallery and knew Effie – Katniss pondered why her path had never crossed Peeta’s until they had met here. They both lived in the same city. They were about the same age. But it was a huge city, and she wasn’t much for the nightlife, so maybe it wasn’t such a surprise after all. But even now that they’d met, they didn’t see each other between visits to the Inn.l They exchanged the odd text, but they never met for lunch or grabbed a quick drink after work. She’d never questioned it before, but now she wondered why that was, and whether that would change if she were no longer coming to the Inn each weekend. What if it didn’t? Would another female guest take her place? The idea clawed at her.

“Dinner is served,” called Madge from the doorway.

As they passed under the chandelier in the foyer to the dining room across the hall, Peeta tucked Katniss’s hand under his arm. She was surprised to discover his bicep was rock hard beneath the soft cotton of his shirt. She chanced a glance up at him and found his eyes full of concern.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No, of course not.”

The thumb of his free hand stroked over her knuckles. “I wasn’t sure. You seemed so distant in the other room.”

“It’s not you, Peeta. I’ve just… Got a lot on my mind.” He nodded in understanding, but did not release her hand. That was fine with Katniss. His gentle strength was exactly what she needed.

In the dining room, the lights had been dimmed and the large table where they usually supped with Madge was already filled with the television crew. Katniss spotted Plutarch settling in beside a dark-haired woman whose face powder gave the apples of her cheeks a silver glow. Across the table from him was a man with a red-tinged beard and another willowy woman whose hair was shaved on one side of her head.

Madge pointed them to a table for two she’d set up near the windows. “I thought you two might enjoy some privacy.” Peeta gave her a grateful smile and he led the way to the more intimate setting, where the flickering of the candle was reflected in the glasses between their places and glimmered in the polished silver that lay on the tablecloth. When Katniss reached her chair, Peeta quickly pulled it out for her and slid her into place. Madge arrived tableside and poured another rich red, wine into fresh glasses.

“This meal has to be perfect,” she whispered to them, her back to the camera crew.

“It will be, Madge,” Katniss soothed. “All your meals are perfect. They’ll love it.”

“Let’s hope so,” her friend sighed, and outlined the evening’s dining choices: a braised lamb shank in a red wine sauce and served with rosemary garlic mashed potatoes or eggplant parmesan with arugula salad.

Peeta grinned at Katniss. “I know what you’re going to choose.”

“The lamb,” they said in unison.

“For you as well, Peeta?” Madge asked. He nodded and their hostess pasted a smile on her lips. “Okay then, wish me luck.” She turned back to the crowd at the table to take their orders.

“I guess you know what a carnivore I am by now,” Katniss teased after Madge left.

“You told me a few months ago that lamb is your favourite.”

“I did?”

“Sure, one night Madge served a gorgeous Beef Wellington and you said that you enjoyed it but that lamb was your favourite.”

Katniss remembered that night – the flakey crust wrapped over the succulent steak, the rich aroma of the wine. Madge had dimmed the chandelier over the dining room table and they’d talked for hours. Peeta had told them all about the hours he’d spent on a beach in the south of Spain, painting the sunset over the Mediterranean Sea, frantically mixing his paints to achieve exactly the right shade of orange. His eyes were as blue as the water that night and Katniss has never looked a a sunset the same way since.

“I can’t believe you retained a little detail like that,” she said.

Madge arrived with their meals and the savoury aroma curled tantalizingly toward her.

Peeta tugged his napkin from under his cutlery and laid it in his lap. “I remember everything about you, Katniss.” He cleared his throat and looked back up at her. “So, how were things today?”

She fiddled with the stem of her wine goblet before lifting it to take a healthy swallow. “Rough, as usual.” Rougher than usual, really, but she’d promised herself she wouldn’t think about that yet. “Dad just lies there, fading to nothing. Prim takes Mom with her every day when she goes to work at the hospital. She drops Mom off in his room, works a 12-hour shift, then picks her up in his room when it’s time to go home. Mom doesn’t leave his side, except to go to the bathroom.”

“She’s certainly devoted.”

“She is, but it’s more than that, Peeta. It’s like she can’t function without him. Dad’s car accident was four months ago, and she’s barely said a word since it happened. When she’s not at the hospital, she’s sleeping.”

Katniss adored her father and she’d missed him every day since he’d lost control of his truck on that icy road last winter. But it was her mother’s desertion that hurt the most. Her father might have been alone in his vehicle, but she and her sister had lost both of their parents that night.

And since Katniss lived and worked in Capitol City, poor Prim was bearing the day-to-day stress of caring for both of their parents. It was Prim who’d called Katniss to say the doctors had decided their mother lacked the competency to make decisions about their father’s care. Prim had closed up their parent’s house and moved Mom into her place. Prim made sure Mom got out of bed, ate, washed herself and went back to bed. Prim dealt with the myriad of decisions that had to be made for both of their parents every day. All Katniss had to do was show up on Saturday morning, take their mother to the hospital and spend the day watching their father waste away while a respirator and a feeding tube kept his body alive and her mother desperately clung to the hope he’d wake up. When the sun began to set, she kissed her father’s cheek, took Mom back to Prim’s house and put her to bed.

Every second of every minute that she sat in that ass-numbing visitor’s chair beside her father’s bed, Katniss wished she could be somewhere - anywhere - else; to run to her car, drive back to the city and never return. Only the bone-crushing guilt that her baby sister was dealing with this fiasco on her own had her packing her car every Saturday morning for the 60-mile drive north to Panem.

Well, that, and the man sitting on the other side of the table, whose smile lit up every room in her heart. He smiled at her sympathetically.

“I’d like to say I understand what you’re going through, Katniss, but my father’s death was so sudden, it can’t compare. Just know that I haven’t forgotten what that felt like. I understand what it means to lose someone so important to you.” His hand covered hers, and then his thumb stroked over her knuckles. “I’m here for you, Katniss, whatever you need. I hope you know that.”

His kindness made her want to laugh and cry at the same time. What did she ever do to deserve a friend like him? “Thank you, I-”

“Look at that!” Plutarch’s voice boomed from the other table. “Pollux go get your camera. Do you see it Cressida? They’re perfect!”

Katniss turned her head towards the other table where Plutarch was grinning like someone who’d found the prize at the bottom of the cereal box. The woman across from him was considering them carefully, the long, platinum locks on the unshaved part of her head falling over her left shoulder. Finally, she nodded. “Yes, you’re right. They’re perfect. And the setting is just right.”

“Well, you two. How about it?” Plutarch rose from the table and loomed over them. “Want to be on our show?”

Peeta was the first to recover. “We’re not-, I mean…”

“Professional actors. I know,” Plutarch said. “That’s what makes you so right for this. Your chemistry is palpable. It was slapping me in the face, even all the way over there.”

It was? Her attempts to process that revelation were interrupted by the thumps and rattles of the cameraman, Pollux, who came back into the room, a television camera hoisted on his shoulder.

She was already working up an impressive no speech when Cressida spoke up. “You don’t have to of course,” she demurred from the other table, “But don’t you want to help your friend? Footage of an actual couple enjoying the inn is so much more effective than shots of charming but empty rooms.”

One look at Madge’s pleading face and Katniss’s protests crumbled. Three minutes on camera wasn’t going to kill her. When she peeked over at Peeta, he was wavering too. But she knew he wouldn’t agree, not without her.

“Alright, fine,” she acquiesced. Peeta gave a swift nod and Plutarch threw his hands up in joy. He might as well have won the lottery. Before long, Cressida – who apparently was the show’s director – had Pollux in position for a long shot.

“I want you to start wide,” she instructed Pollux, “And bring it in slowly on the two of them while they continue their dinner. Pollux nodded and got into position. She turned to Peeta, “And I want you to go back to looking at her as though she’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. And you,” she laid a hand on Katniss’s shoulder that Katniss had to force herself not to shrug off, “You just keep looking up at him like he hung the moon.”

It was impossibly awkward, trying to eat while the camera was rolling. She was conscious of every chew of the lamb, every bite of her potatoes. They tasted like ash in her mouth because she couldn’t relax. Meanwhile Cressida’s words kept rolling through her head. Since when did Peeta look at her like she was beautiful? How ridiculous. Just the implication that he had feelings for her had even turned the tips of his ears pink. But now, that the camera was rolling he was putting on a masterful performance, smiling sweetly at her in the candlelight.

Three minutes turned out to be twenty. Each time Pollux finished the shot, Cressida reviewed it, picked it apart and had him shoot it again. Once Cressida was happy with the long shot, she had Pollux pan from one of them to the other. Then Peeta gazing at her. Then her doing her best not to scowl at him. She also had him shoot their joined hands before pulling out to their dinner.

She heaved a sigh of relief when Pollux finally turned off the camera, but by then her meal was cold. Madge collected their plates with a smile, and whispered that she was so grateful for their help that she was comping their room for the night.

At least they didn’t bother her while she was enjoying her tiramisu. Plutarch’s plan that Peeta feed her a bite from his fork, was thwarted by Madge who suggested they all have a break and some dessert.

Katniss had never been so relieved to be finished with a meal. She was already making her escape to the staircase when Plutarch started wheedling for just a “few more shots” in the drawing room. Before long, she found herself nestled hip-to-hip with Peeta in front of a roaring fire, Katniss tucked beneath his arm and their long-stemmed wine glasses clutched in their fingertips while the camera rolled.

“Cut!” At Cressida’s call, Pollux put the camera down and rolled his shoulders. Cressida was oblivious to his discomfort. “Alright, Katniss,” she coached. “This time when Pollux starts recording, I want you both to be staring into the fire. Then on the count of five I want you to lay your head on Peeta’s chest. Got it?”

She bit her lip. It was one thing to hold hands over dinner or sit in front of the fire. This next shot felt terribly romantic and it seemed wrong to continue to pretend like this. Peeta picked up on her uncertainty and was arguing that they were tired when she realized she might never again have a chance at a moment like this with Peeta. Even if Prim changed her mind about tomorrow and she came back the following weekend, she had no idea whether Peeta felt anything for her but friendship. Suddenly, she found her tongue.

“It’s fine, Peeta. Don’t worry about me.” His blue eyes were full of concern when they peered down at her.

“You sure?”

She nodded, wondering if it were possible to drown in someone’s gaze. “Yeah.” The corner of his mouth quirked in a slight smile and she imagined pressing her lips to the spot.

Plutarch made a pleased noise. “Oh that’s perfect. That’s exactly what we want, Isn’t it Cressida?”

“We’ll do it all in one take,” the director agreed. “Fulvia, take Peeta’s glass, please.”

“I’m the host, not a gofer,” the other woman huffed as she snatched Peeta’s glass away.

“You’re not a coat rack either, yet you insist on standing there and doing nothing,” Cressida snapped.

Katniss decided she rather liked Cressida, who turned back to her, her irritation buried under her professional veneer. “As I said, you two, we’ll do one last take and then we’ll set you free. Katniss, I want you to do exactly as I said. Gaze at the fire, count to five, lay your head on his chest. Then Peeta, with your free hand, reach up to stroke her cheek. And if you two stare at each other with the same intensity that you just had, the Mockingjay Inn will be full for the next 10 years.”

“Can we please just do this?” Peeta sounded pained.

“Rolling,” Cressida called. The room was silent except for the crackle of the fire. Katniss watched it dance in the hearth before relaxing against Peeta and laying her cheek against the soft cotton of his shirt. She could hear his heart racing beneath her ear. She closed her eyes, fixing the moment in her mind forever. The spice of his cologne, the natural musk of his skin. The firmness of his chest and the warmth of his body. Even if it wasn’t real, she wanted to be able to recall this memory whenever her thoughts strayed to him. When his fingers grazed her cheek, Katniss opened her eyes and found his to be staring back at her, filled with fondness and, dare she say, longing?

“Cut!” Cressida said and Peeta leapt to his feet, reaching out to tug Katniss off the floor.

“Well, it’s been fun, folks, but Katniss and I are calling it a night,” he said, never letting go of her hand. Cheerfully waving good night, but allowing no further discussion, he ushered her from the room. His jaw was tense, she noted, and a current was passing between them that was almost palpable in the air. When he glanced toward her, she could see something brewing in his expression that she’d never noticed before.

When they reached the top of the stairs, Peeta opened the door to their room and allowed her to pass through before him. It snicked closed and they were left in the cozy space where it seemed Madge had snuck in to light the fireplace and turn down their beds. Lamps glowed on the end tables on each side the big four-poster.

“Katniss,” Peeta said, in a voice just barely above a whisper. Her eyes flew to where he stood by the door, watching her. She was reminded briefly of a stormy sea and then she found herself surrounded by him, wrapped snugly in his arms as his lips came crashing down upon hers. At once, they gave and demanded. Took and soothed. He bit her lip, begged forgiveness with a swipe of his tongue and then parted her bruised lips to slip inside. Here, her body sang as her tongue slid against his. Here is what you’ve been looking for. What you’ve been missing. The one you need.

When they were both gasping for air, he pulled back, framing her face with his hands, feathering kisses across her cheeks, the tip of her nose, her forehead before finally lowering his brow to hers. She locked her hands around his wrists.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I’ve been waiting so long to tell you how I feel. You’ve been dealing with so much. You don’t need demands from me too, but the way you were looking at me down there, Katniss…. I just- I couldn’t hold back anymore. You mean so much to me and if you don’t want this, I’ll try to under-”

She had to shut him up. Had to. So she rose up on her toes and kissed him with all that she’d been holding inside for him; weaving her fingers into his hair as she’d ached to do, revelling in the sharp scrape of his stubble, committing the taste of his lips to her memory. How could they both have been feeling this way and not known the attraction was mutual?

“It’s not just you,” she assured him when they broke apart again. “I didn’t know how to tell you. I’m not very good with words, especially when it’s important.”

A groan sounded low in his throat and his hands clutched at her hips, pulling her close. Heat flashed between them and she stroked the iron of his biceps and wrapped her arms around his middle before clutching the back of his shirt in her fists. Her own shirt rose slightly and his thumb stroked the bare skin that appeared just above the waistline of her jeans. Goosebumps prickled on her flesh and the sharp edge of need sliced through her again. A soft mewl escaped her lips and his hands slipped from her hips to stroke the soft curve of her bottom. His lips roamed her jaw then moved to suckle the sensitive spot on her neck just below her ear.

It felt indescribably good, like she’d found a part of herself that she hadn’t known was missing. She craved him, each touch drawing her ever deeper under his spell. Her panties were soaked and her mind was whirling. She wanted him over her, inside her, wrapped in the knot of her legs while he took her flying.

Was it wrong to give into this now? When they’d only just confessed their feelings? When she knew tomorrow she’d be kissing her father good-bye?

Peeta lifted his head to stare down at her. His lips were swollen from her kisses; his blonde locks tousled. His eyes burned with desire, but his gentleness and innate decency remained. Her hands slid into his hair, toying with the curls at the nape of his neck.

He leaned down to nuzzle her nose. “Everything alright?”

“Prim told the doctors they could unplug our dad tomorrow.”

With a curse, Peeta released her and then led her over to the bed. They toed off their shoes and curled up under the covers where he drew her into his arms. She lay there quietly, her body still thrumming with need, but her mind at peace.

”Katniss, I’m so sorry. I know you were hoping he’d get better.”

“I was for awhile,” she admitted on a shaky breath, “But now, I just want him to be able to hold on to his dignity. He would hate this, Peeta. More than anything. Sometimes I think he won’t wake up because he’d never want to face this.”

He pressed a kiss to her brow. “I’m sorry. I should never have started all that before. If I’d known what you were going through-”

She covered her mouth with her hand. “Stop. Please don’t be sorry for that. I can’t handle it if you say sorry for wanting me.”

He snorted and she wondered if he’d picked up that habit from her. “Can’t be sorry for that,” he answered. “Not when it came to me as naturally as breathing.”

She gave her head a brief shake and raised up on her elbow. “What?”

“You have no idea, the effect you have on me.” At her dismissive noise, he flipped her over, settling his body on hers and pinning her wrists above her head. “It’s true,” he insisted. “I walked into the drawing room that first night we met. You were curled up on the couch, staring into the fire, your braid falling over your shoulder. You turned to look at me and my mind just blanked. And then I knew.”

She felt like she should scoff and push him away, but another part – the part that remembered their first meeting like a favourite movie – hungered to hear the rest. “Knew what?” she croaked.

“That you were perfect for me. I just needed time to convince you that I was perfect for you too.”

No convincing had been necessary. Not really. Not when she spent Monday to Friday thinking about when she would see him again. “I guess you’re lucky that work kept bringing you up here, then.”

He chuckled, pushing her hands higher over her head, his face so close she could feel the heat of his breath on her cheeks. “Is that what you think? That I’ve been coming up here week after week, for work? Do you really think there are that many art connoisseurs in this little town?”

“Well, why else would you-”

Peeta rolled his eyes, exasperated. “Katniss.” He clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Why do you think?”

Oh. “But you never called, hardly ever texted me during the week. How was I to know if you never gave me a sign?”

He blushed a little. “There were plenty of signs. I guess I was waiting for one from you.”

She spread her legs until he was nestled between her thighs. Locking her feet under his knees, she brought her lips to his. “How’s that for a sign?”

“I’ll take it,” he rasped, locking his fingers with hers. She took his bottom lip between her own and clung, nipping lightly. He let go of her hands to frame her face with his own and buried his fingers in her raven tresses. Free to wander, hers fell to his shoulders, admiring their breadth before slipping between the two of them to loosen the buttons of his shirt. Dissatisfied with the amount of skin she could reach, Katniss tugged impatiently at the hem of his shirt.

“Off,” she muttered as she laved her way up his neck to take his earlobe in her teeth. “Now,” she whispered in his ear.

“Bossy,” he complained from inside the shirt as he rose on his haunches to pull it over his head, too eager to be free of it to finish with the buttons. He tossed it aside and at last she could glory in his sculpted chest, his pectoral muscles dusted with blonde hair that narrowed into a trail that disappeared below the waistband of his jeans. She scratched her nails along his chest until they reached the button of his jeans. When she flipped it open, and reached for his fly, Peeta’s hand covered hers.

“You first,” he insisted. “I need to see you.” he swallowed. “Take your shirt off, Katniss.”

The heat of her blush raced up her neck until even her ears burned. “I’m nothing special,” she protested. “Let me touch you.”

He shook his head. “I’ve been having this dream about you. Please.” She huffed. Her fingers wrapped around the hem off her sweater so that she could whip it off, when he stilled her hand again.

“Slowly.”

Obediently, she slowed her hand. Her grey eyes locked on his face, watching his expression as she exposed the flat of her belly, the olive skin coming into view inch by inch. His eyes were dark, like bottomless pools. His tongue flicked out across his bottom lip, still swollen from her attentions. The sweater climbed over her rib cage and up her breasts before finally slipping over her head and falling into a heap on the floor.

She lay before him, her slight breasts still encased in the white cotton bra she’d donned that morning. His eyes closed and he exhaled softly, then opened them and smiled. “You are so beautiful.”

Her heart flipped over in her chest and she knew it was lost to him, that her feelings shone from every pore. He flicked open her jeans, lowered the zipper and lowered his lips to the soft flesh just above the hem of her panties. His mouth slid higher and her core burned as he laved a trail along her belly button, dipping in briefly before travelling up her sternum to the valley between her breasts. His lips caressed one soft mound and then the other. Her fingers wove themselves back into his hair, clutching him to her, and he moaned softly when she gave it a little tug to bring his mouth back to hers. He tasted of wine and she drank him in, revelling in the pleasure of his skin against hers. Her hips rose from the bed, sending a spike of heat through her as her most sensitive place ground against his erection. She moaned and arched her back as she moved against him again.

Peeta’s hand slipped beneath her to remove her bra, unclasping it, and then sliding it from her shoulders to toss it to the floor. He closed his hand over one before drawing the soft brown tip of the other into his mouth, the tension continuing to build ever higher between her legs. His name fell from her lips and he raised his head to give her a naughty grin and then lowered his mouth to her opposite breast. With his other hand, he rolled the nipple he’d already teased into a taut peak between his fingers.

Her hands ran down his back and slipped beneath his shorts, admiring the shape of his ass before driving him even harder against the apex of her thighs.

They grunted in unison, and Peeta raised his head, his eyes dancing as they laughed. He pecked her lips and then slid off of her. They lay side by side, their arms draped loosely over each other’s sides. The next smile he offered her was sheepish.

“I didn’t exactly come prepared for this,” he admitted, “If you want to take this farther, that is.”

Katniss bit her lip as she considered the contents of her bag. “Me either.” She considered a moment. “We’ll just have to be creative,” she decided and sat up, smiling to herself when she noticed his eyes following her breasts.

She climbed from the bed and shimmied out of her jeans. “C’mon Mellark, match me?”

By the time she climbed back up on the bed, Peeta’s jeans were hitting the floor, his boxer briefs not far behind them. Still on all fours, her eyes roamed his body, the broad chest, the tight abs, the happy trail pointing the way to a long, hard cock. She licked her lips, thinking about what she had in mind and it twitched slightly. Amused, her eyes flew back to Peeta’s face. He shrugged. “It’s just saying hello. Come closer, please. I want to touch you.”

She crawled to him, enjoying the way his eyes followed the sway of her hips, then rose up on her knees before him. His hand slid up her inner thigh, trailing up until he brushed against her lower lips before sliding down again to her knee. He rose up on his elbow, placing a kiss against her hip.

“So lovely,” he murmured against her skin. “I’m going to paint you, someday, if you let me.” His lips travelled just above the dark triangle between her legs while his fingers crept up her thigh again. “Your hair unbound, falling down your back in the sunshine. Your skin practically glows, Katniss. I can make all kinds of colours in my paint box, but I could spend all day trying to get your skin just right.” This time, his fingers caressed her slit slowly, drawing her breath from her in sharp pants, before delving deeper in search of the swollen bud seeking his attention. Her head fell back and a high pitched moan fell from her lips when he began to stroke it.

“Peeta,” she gasped, riding his hand.

“Fuck, Katniss. You’re so wet.”

Her hands slid slowly up her body, cupping her breasts and then rolling her nipples between her fingers. The pleasure shot straight to her clit and she groaned again.

“Can I taste you,” he asked, and she nodded.

“But I want to touch you too. Lie back.” She turned in the bed, straddling Peeta’s body so that his cock was perfectly positioned for her mouth. She heard him curse again, then felt him lower her into position over his face. He licked her slowly, sending another jolt of pleasure through her body. Pleasure she needed to share.

Her tongue stroked down his cock, from the tip all the way to the root near his balls. The strangled groan that fell from his lips vibrated through her. She palmed his balls in one hand and then slowly began to stroke him with the other.

Peeta’s ministrations grew more passionate. He sucked her clit into his mouth, working it furiously with his tongue.

Katniss licked her lips, then took him in, sliding her tongue around the head and then deep into her mouth. Another groan sounded from behind her and she took him deeper, moving her hand in concert with her mouth. His hips rose and fell, even as he pulled her ever deeper against his face, his sounds of pleasure causing hers to spiral ever higher.

She drew back, licking the head of his penis before plunging down upon him again. His mouth worked her furiously, whimpers of pleasure bursting from her, when suddenly she felt her orgasm overtake her. She bucked against his face as he held her in place, drinking her up. She sucked him desperately, opening her throat and with one last groan, he erupted, and she swallowed each drop as it slid down.

They lay silently for a few minutes, while their hearts raced, Peeta kissing her thigh periodically. When she could avoid it no longer, she climbed off him. When she turned around, she could tell he was as stunned as she.

“I guess I should go to bed,” he said softly.

She lay her hand on his chest. “No, stay with me.”

He smiled at her and held out his arms. She thought he whispered something into her hair as she snuggled down beside him.

Peeta sat up to pull the covers back over them. They each flicked off a light and before long she was once again wrapped up in his arms. They lay quietly in the dark as she listened to the comforting thud of his heartbeat just below her ear. She was just drifting off to sleep when she heard his voice again.

“I’d like to go with you tomorrow, if that’s okay.”

She desperately wanted to say yes, which made her think she should probably refuse. “It will be awful, Peeta. I don’t want to put you through that.”

“Tomorrow, your mother will be there for your father, and your sister will be there for both of them. You’ll be taking care of Prim. Someone should be there to comfort you, Katniss. And that should be your boyfriend.”

Her lips twitched upwards in the dark. “Is that what you are? My boyfriend?”

“If you’ll allow it.”

There was a brief silence before she answered. “I’ll allow it.”

“And tomorrow?”

“I’ll allow that too.”

#Everlark Fic Exchange #Springtime Edition 2017 #submission #burkygirl #roseymama #prompt 25

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allonsysilvertongue · 7 years

Text

Silver Pen: Be, and it is!

During a particularly long stretch of writer’s block, Haymitch Abernathy discovered a world of his own making. (AU)

Chapter 4: Be, and it is!

As it turned out, there was nothing magical about it.

There were no forms taking shape once he typed in the last 't' in Trinket, no woman materialising in the space in front of him. Since he was not expecting something out-worldly like that, there was no disappointment to be had.

Still, he expected something.

Haymitch resigned himself to wait and he waited for days.

He supposed if Euphemia Trinket were to make an appearance, it would be the way Katniss and Peeta did, out of the blue and without much fuss.

He began to look for signs of new neighbours or anyone who moved into this town for that matter. There was more time spent outside his house feeding his geese, fixing their pen and on one afternoon, he even resorted to weeding out his garden.

Haymitch wandered out of the village on random mornings and nights peeling his eyes out for anything unusual. He even made frequent trips to the town market to pick up on any talks or gossips of someone new.

This went on for a week or so that even Katniss, as obtuse as she could be, started to notice. When asked, he waved her off.

As he slouched on the sofa, on a dreary afternoon, watching Katniss and Peeta sitting cross-legged in front of his coffee table writing recipes for Peeta’s book, it jolted him the fact that these two kids were spending more and more of their time with him. They treated his home like theirs and he was, likewise, welcomed to theirs at any time.

He wasn't sure when or how this familiarity began but it scare him. He knew they were not real and it terrified him even more if they found out the truth about themselves.

They're real, a small voice argued.

They were right there in front of him. He could have a conversation with them and touch them. He could argue with Katniss. He had carried little Finn in his arms and he had eaten the oysters that Annie had given him, only to spent the next few hours in the bathroom with an upset stomach.

Reality is often what an individual perceived it to be and this could be his. It could be, he thought. He had been alone long enough. He deserved to have this even if they used to be just his characters but they were so much more now. He was slowly, and without realising it, letting them become a fabric in his life.

Maybe, to a reasonable sane man, he was losing his mind but he felt .... better than he had in a long while.

It made his head ache just thinking about it so he forced himself not to dwell too much on it. He was good at that – forcing issues to the back of his mind with a drink in hand.

It seemed to work well, too. For the next three days, not once had the thought of Katniss and Peeta as being not real entered his mind.

XxX

Haymitch glanced up at the sound of footsteps approaching. He picked the last of the egg from the pen and stood up just as Katniss stood in front of him with three squirrels in her hand. She tossed one to him.

“How’s your hand? Steady enough to skin?”

He glared at her.

The town was running late on their shipment of liquor and he had been staving off the shakes by distilling his own potatoes, which was not going fast enough so there were days without alcohol. Peeta thought it was a good time to cut down but he shrugged the boy off.

“Can’t you get your boy to help?”

Katniss clearly did not like Peeta being referred to that way because she shot him a look. Haymitch chuckled. It was easy to tease Katniss sometimes.

“He’s really serious ‘bout the bakery, huh?” Haymitch asked after Katniss informed him that Peeta was at the kitchen coming up with a menu.

“He is,” she nodded. “He’s in talks about leasing the space at the town market across from Finnick. He tells me that Miss Trinket will be coming down in two days to go over the contract.”

His knife ripped through the squirrel and blood spattered on Katniss’ arm. She clicked her tongue in annoyance as she inspected the skewered meat.

“Seriously, Haymitch,” she frowned. “I was going to sell that one.”

“Who?”

“How would I know who’s going to buy it till I go down,” Katniss muttered. “Probably someone down at the Hob.”

“You said someone’s coming… About Peeta’s bakery.”

“Miss Trinket?” Katniss looked at him. “She’s the property agent. She was the one who got us the house so Peeta went back to her about leasing a space.”

“Yeah, Trinket… What’s her name? She must have a name… or a business card. You have her card, kid?”

His questions made her stop whatever it was she was doing with the squirrel to focus her attention on him.

“Why are you so interested?” she asked. “Are you planning on selling your house? Where will you go?”

“Don’t answer my question with questions of your own,” Haymitch grumbled. “Tell me her name.”

“She calls herself Effie Trinket. To be honest, I didn’t really trust her when I first met her. She’s a bit… She’s not like you and me, but she’s okay, I guess. Peeta invited her for dinner a couple of times before we moved in and out of all things, she commented about our good table manners.”

Manners…. Haymitch wanted to laugh. He had written a line about her having immaculate manners and it seemed, that single description had manifested itself well into her being.

That thought came to a screeching halt as another bigger, more important thought burst through the forefront of his mind.

She existed.

“Effie…” Effie… Euphemia.

He wrote her and now she was somewhere out there in the world….

And she’s coming.

The ‘Miss Trinket’ Katniss was talking about had to be her. It was no coincidence. Except… While he did write her as being interested in architecture, after the blonde woman standing in front of a building, being a property agent seemed to be going a bit off the tracks.

What about modelling?

These questions only made him more excited and eager, because while he might have given his character a background to exist upon, the way they were spinning and crafting their own tales made him curious.

XxX

Two days seemed to stretch, and for once in his life, he began to pay careful attention to the setting of the moon and rising of the sun.

It made him restless having to wait for her arrival so he went back to his study in an attempt to work on his novel. He was staring at the piece of paper and it had been hours now but so far, there was only one paragraph.

Haymitch flipped through a folder. In a novel that was published years ago, he had written about the Dark Days in the fictional world of Panem. It told the story of a band of ragtag rebels who believed wholeheartedly in their cause set during a time of a massive plague. It was a story his father once weaved during bedtime, one that incurred his mother’s wrath because it was too dark a tale for children.

But he had loved it, and that had garnered his interest in the art of storytelling.

There were so many ways his father’s story could go so during his teenage years and well into his adult years, he began to write the story his father never managed to finish.

Haymitch’s story ended with the collapse of the first rebellion.

Ironically, it was also his collapse.

He lost his family in an explosion from the mine and the fire had spread to their home. Peeta’s story about losing his family was his story. Peeta’s guilt about not being able to save his family was Haymitch’s guilt. He had tried to separate his life from his characters but there were some things that bled from his subconscious into paper.

The loss of his family marked the loss of his inspiration, too. He had tried to get back on his feet in between sober moments by writing stand-alone pieces of heroes from the first rebellion. They had hit the shelves but it was a pitiful attempt and was never as good as the novel itself.

The sequel had been in plans for a few years now. Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark were meant to be in it but until now, he still could not quite get the plot to crystallise.

Everything he needed was in his head; pieces of scenarios here and there. All he needed to do was to write them out.

With a frustrated sigh, Haymitch tore the paper away from the typewriter. Crumpling it in his hand, he tossed it behind him and out of the window.

“How lazy of him to just throw his trash out of the window!” a high pitch voice commented. “There should be a rule about littering.”

“It’s his own yard,” Peeta chuckled. “He can do as he pleased and that includes throwing things all over.”

“It is unpleasant to the eyes,” the woman’s voice rose once more. “I am not sure that I will like him. In fact, I am rather wary of seeing the inside of his house.”

Katniss’ amused laughter reached him at his study and just seconds later, there was a knock on his door.

Without seeing her, Haymitch deduced that the foreign voice must belong to Euphemia Trinket. Of course, he was not expecting her to make a house visit and he had no idea why the kids were bringing her over.

When he finally made his way downstairs to the front door, the sight of her rooted him to the spot.

He was staring and she was growing ill at ease by it.

“It is rude to stare.”

She was beautiful.

When he had written her, he had pictured Marilyn Monroe in his mind’s eyes. She was the first person to pop in his head so he had based Effie Trinket on that but Haymitch had also included details that would make Effie Effie. He had written her with freckles which was not present because of her make-up and with a scar from her childhood.

She was taller than he had imagined but that, he supposed, was due to the heels she was wearing.

“I’ve been told I’m rude and I ain’t making an exception for you, sweetheart.”

The pleasant smile on her face faltered.

The title is taken from an Arabic phrase – kun (be) faya kun (and it is).

There is a little more backstory here for Haymitch and hayffie finally meeting - so share your thoughts by leaving a review :)

#hayffie #effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #everlark #silver pen

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