#everlark drabble
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Of course there's grief when, after a long life of love and pain and recovery, Peeta finally goes on to the thereafter.
Their children expect their mother to be devastated and inconsolable. No one has ever seen a wife love her husband as deeply as the huntress loved the baker.
But resting in her old rocking chair where many a baby had been soothed and a twilight hour spent in companionship, Katniss's wrinkles crease in a smile and she says, "He got his wish. He died as himself."
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tis I with a prompt: I request the first time post war Katniss lets Peeta into her bed again 🥺
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AN : wrote this the night you sent the prompt but I absolutely hated it until now. I finally got around to cleaning this up a bit and now I think it’s cute? Lemme know, all of y’all, if you like it! And my writing muscles are rusty so send me a prompt if you like, to try and work me out please! Can’t make any promises about what’ll trigger my brain but I can sure try! Anywaysss hope y’all enjoy this lil post-mockingjay-pre-epilogue drabble here!
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I watch with dread as Peeta scrubs away the last bit of sauce still dried to his plate.
“You really don’t have to do that,” I murmur halfheartedly from where I lean against the counter, watching him.
“It’s rude to not wash your own plate after dinner,” he says, his tone somewhat coy. He’s teasing me, I realize. He’s maybe even flirting with me but I can’t be sure and even if I could, I wouldn’t know what to make of it.
“I never wash mine after eating at your house,” I mumble, mostly to myself. I know he doesn’t care about cleaning off my plate for me. I know that he knows that I don’t mind washing his plate either.
But I don’t push the point and neither does he. Because we’re both stalling the inevitable.
It’s past ten at night and it’s time for Peeta to go home now. This time comes every day and we should be more prepared for it by this point, but every single night when the sun has long since left the sky and you can barely make out five feet in front of you without a flashlight, Peeta walks out the front door and my chest aches, as he disappears out into the night.
Ask him to stay, a tiny voice that sounds weirdly like both Haymitch and my mother — at the same exact time — pressures me.
But my tongue won’t cooperate and I can’t make the words form on my lips and I feel my stomach flip as I stutter out an awkward goodbye instead.
“Goodnight, Katniss,” Peeta says evenly, his face smooth and peaceful and totally level as he reaches out and squeezes my hand before moving to grab his coat.
He’s walking towards the door and I feel the familiar dread — the dread that’s been my constant companion for longer than I care to remember — rise up in my stomach and for a split second I want to reach out and grasp his elbow. For a split second I want to grab onto him and stop him from leaving.
And for a moment I plan to ask him to stay, to come upstairs with me, to get into his pajamas and brush his teeth by my side at the sink, to crawl beneath the sheets and hold me until we hear birds begin to chirp with the morning light. In that moment I plan to ask him to do exactly what we used to do on the train, exactly what we used to do every single night, back before everything between us completely shattered beyond recognition.
My hand drops midair before I can make the contact with his arm but it catches his attention just the same.
“What’s wrong?” He inquires, his face becoming concerned.
“Nothing,” I brush off tightly. Instead of saying what I’m thinking, instead of saying what I want, I just force a smile and lightly graze his hand. “Get home safe.”
At that, he shoots me a bemused look. “I live three houses from you. Somehow I think I’ll be fine.”
I nod and chuckle as he leaves, as he disappears into the night, making the shortest of journeys home, unwittingly leaving me to dwell in regret for all the things I wish I’d just come out and said.
As soon as the door shuts between us regret the size of an elephant lands on my chest.
And I know, without a doubt, this is going to be one bad night for me.
-
The funny thing about my nightmares is they never lose their edge. Not with time, not with practice, not with comparison. I’ve seen Cato get eaten by the mutts hundreds of times. I’ve watched Clove stab me with her knives and Brutus chase me through the jungle and Enobaria break my neck with one hand, more than I could possibly count.
I’ve witnessed my sister detonate, as if I’m still standing right there, in the city circle of the Capitol. I’ve witnessed it thousands of times since that day. I’ve witnessed it more often than I’ve managed to actually sleep since that day.
And it never gets easier. It never becomes routine. I’m never ever prepared for it.
Instead I’m left paralyzed as the same dreams plague me over and over and over again.
Other things do change though. I used to thrash around, kicking and screaming as the dreams tortured me for minutes on end. I used to wake up, sweat covered and coiled up in my bedding, trapped in a physical sense that only manages to make my dreams even more intense somehow.
But over time something shifted and somehow, between the bomb that killed my sister and taking down Coin and the trial I scarcely remember, the thrashing stopped and the walking began.
For months now, I’ve woken to find myself in strange rooms, in small crawl spaces I didn’t know existed, inside cupboards and beneath beds no one’s ever used in guest rooms I barely recognize.
But I’ve never found myself outside before. Never, in all the time I’ve dealt with these dreams, have I ever once ended up in my front lawn.
Never, in my wildest imagination, did I picture myself waking from my nightmare, facedown in some dirt, ripping grass from the ground as I let out a rabid scream.
“Katniss,” I hear a voice softly murmur, like speaking to an injured fawn, terrified of scaring them away. “Katniss, it’s okay.”
And my lips cry for the voice before my brain fully recognizes it. “Peeta?”
“It’s just me,” he says, and I feel his hands grasp the tops of my arms, gently pulling me upright. “It’s only me.”
I pry my swollen eyes open and take in Peeta’s kind, worried face, mere inches away from mine.
“You’re here?” I croak, still groggy and confused. “What’s going on?”
“You were having a nightmare,” he explains, thumbing away my tears as more come pouring out. “But it’s over now. It was just a dream. You’re okay.” His hand cups my cheek softly, holding the weight of my head.
I nod plaintively, my body still completely exhausted despite the fact I was just asleep. “I’m okay,” I try to say but all that comes out is a guttural raspy sound and I watch as his face softens even more.
“Come on. Let’s get you inside,” he whispers, offering me his hand.
I take it without question, but find that I’m not upright for long. The moment I’m standing, my bare feet touching the dewy grass, Peeta bends down and scoops me up in his arms.
I don’t question it though. Maybe secretly I wanted him to do that. I definitely didn’t want to wait around to see if Haymitch came outside, asking why I was screaming at this hour of the day.
Peeta carries me into the house as if I weigh as much as Buttercup, kicking the door shut behind him and walking over to the couch. He sits down with me on his lap and drops his arms, as if to let me decide the next move. I could either crawl away from him, put some distance between us, or I could remain where I am.
To me, the choice barely takes any consideration.
I curl up closer to him, the images from the dream still too fresh to handle alone. I press my face into his neck and fold myself into him and hope he reciprocates in kind.
It doesn’t take more than a second for him to respond. As soon as I initiate it, he’s there, pulling me tighter, cradling me against him, rocking me back and forth like I’m something precious to behold.
“It’s okay,” he repeats again and again and again, as if we entered a time warp and we’re back on the train, back in the Capitol in our little apartment, sharing a bed, guarding against nightmares we stupidly thought would be the height of our troubles. “I have you, Katniss. I won’t let anything hurt you now.”
I cry into the collar of his shirt, drained and shaking and still half-crazed, feeling slightly better only when his fingers begins to smooth my hair away from my face.
“I’m right here, sweetheart,” Peeta whispers gently, his hand moving from my hair to my lower back, rubbing soft, soothing circles there to alleviate my trembling.
Time begins to pass. My tears dwindle to nothing. I feel the shaking come to an end. Every last ounce of energy I have left seeps from my body. My eyes grow heavy.
And pretty soon, I feel myself lifted once again, into strong, protective arms, cradling me like a baby as they carry me up the stairs and down to the end of the hall.
I’m tucked into bed gently, with the utmost care. The covers are brought up to my chin, my hair is brushed off my forehead and his fingers lightly dance upon my cheek. But it’s not enough. I still crave more.
“Don’t leave me,” I whisper, and my voice still isn’t mine, it’s someone else, someone who isn’t afraid to ask for what she wants. For who she wants to lay beside her in the darkness.
“Okay,” he murmurs and it sounds like a promise but as he sits down on the side of my bed and takes my hand in his, planting a soft kiss upon the back of it, I know he doesn’t understand what I’m truly asking.
“No, Peeta, that’s not what I meant,” I say, shaking my head, before pushing the covers back. “Can you get in? Can you stay with me?”
I don’t really grasp my word choice and all the underlying meanings until it’s already slipped out and too late to take back again.
But I only have a moment to be filled with regret. Because that’s how long it takes Peeta to slide in beside me.
And as I curl into him, wrapping my leg around his waist, burrowing my face in the curve of his neck, basking in the feeling of utter safety and happiness that I have never, ever found in another pair of arms, he whispers the only thing that could erase my chagrin.
“Always.”
#everlark#thg#hunger games#thw#Katniss everdeen#Peeta mellark#300#my drabbles#my writing#drabble#everlark drabble#thg fanfic#everlark fanfiction
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If you feel inspired, #10 “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.” from the random prompt list <3
Her dad's guitar takes up a fair amount of space in Katniss's lap, boxy but lightweight, with room to hide behind when her nerves get the better of her. Slightly battered and smooth from use, the balsawood is cool to the touch when she picks its strings and makes it sing. But she's getting antsy, so she puts her guitar in its case and wanders over to the corner of the stage. She's careful to stay hidden behind the heavy velvet curtain. Ms. Trinkett will give her the devil if she catches her peeking out.
People are trickling into the high school auditorium: classmates, a few teachers, and a smattering of parents. She sees Gale and the rest of her cousins file into a row near the stage with Hazelle. Prim and her parents have been here for a while. Katniss hopes the auditorium won't be too full when Principal Flickerman starts the show. She's not a confident performer. Singing and playing are more of a compulsion for her, a hunger she has to feed rather than a bid for attention.
When the clock ticks down to zero (performance time! Ms. Trinkett brightly states), she's waiting for her turn to go on stage with the guitar strapped to her chest.
Madge starts the show with a classical piece. The school's piano is out of tune, but her best friend makes it work. Katniss can't keep the smile off her face. Madge is the shyest person she knows, and she's proud of her friend for getting over that fear to play tonight.
"Wow. Did you know she could play like that?" Peeta Mellark asks. Somehow he'd wandered away from the group he was standing with and up to her side.
Katniss gives a sharp nod, surprised he said anything at all. Not that he doesn't talk. He's popular, friendly, and always hanging out with one group or another. He just never talks to her.
"I mean, of course you do," he laughs at himself. "Is that why you're such good friends? Shared talent?"
She shrugs. "Maybe." She's never considered that before, but he might be on to something.
"Nothing like twenty questions before we go onstage. I'm just a little nervous. Talk too much when that happens."
"No, it's okay," she says. A strain of nervousness makes her insides tight, too. She decides she likes talking to Peeta. He says what he's thinking, but in a more thought-out way than she can pull off. Words stumble across her lips, leaving her embarrassed more often than not. "You can talk. It's not too much."
Peeta grins at her.
"Um, what are you doing?" she asks. "Not like, life in general. For the show."
"Comedy. Going to try getting laughs out of my dumb jokes."
"Oh. I didn't know you did that."
"Me neither, until two weeks ago when they posted the sign-up sheet. I had to find a way to get into the show."
"I was dragged here kicking and screaming. That's brave of you to try something new."
"Or stupid. We'll see." Peeta says. "I know you have a beautiful singing voice, but I didn't know you played."
"My dad taught me. This is his, actually." She pats the fretboard, keeping her eyes on the strings, feeling shy at the compliment. "I didn't know you'd heard me sing."
"I think it was your first public appearance. Kindergarten. Mrs. Paylor asked if anyone knew The Valley Song. Your hand shot up, and when you stood on your chair and sang, my fragile 5-year-old heart was lost," he says.
"That didn't happen," she says.
"Swear to god. You had on a red checkered dress, and your hair was in two long braids. I like your hair tonight, too. It's really pretty."
"Thank you," she murmurs. Katniss pats the braided, pinned updo her mother did for her. She likes the old-fashioned style because it feels in keeping with her mountain heritage.
Vague memories of that red and white dress invade her mind. She does her hair in a single braid most days because it's long and gets everywhere if she doesn't, and she did wear it in two as a child.
"You have an incredible memory."
Peeta shrugs, smiling down at the tips of his shoes.
"Peeta, you're next dear," Ms. Tinkett says, bringing Katniss back to herself. Madge's song was over three students ago in the rotation, and she hadn't even noticed.
"Wish me luck?" Peeta asks her quietly.
"Good luck," she says, kind of dumbfounded by their conversation. She'd caught Peeta looking her way when he thought she didn't notice but never considered what that meant.
She couldn't hear most of Peeta's stand-up routine, but she caught amused laughter from the audience. When it was her turn to go onstage and stand in the spotlight, their conversation was still in the forefront of her mind, and she found her fingers moving over the strings, playing The Valley Song and remembering the little curly blond headed boy from kindergarten.
#endlessnightlock writes#everlark#everlark fanfiction#everlark drabble#katniss everdeen/peeta mellark
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our little games
Wordcount: 1.7k
| Post-mockingjay. Peeta and Katniss making up their own guessing game with pastries that he brings home every night from the bakery |
No warnings! It’s literally a fluff fest following my realization about what Peeta and Katniss smells here and @mollywog’s replies conceiving a sudden birth of this prompt. Lol. This is my first time writing for everlark and I kid you not I oiled up my rusty writing skills from lit classes. Thanks also for @distractionsfromthefood for your support! Unbeta-ed, but enjoy!
It started when I came home early from the bakery, surprised to find Katniss curled on the couch covered with her oversized hunting jacket. She looked up from the arm rest and her cheeks were red and dry with tears. Nothing surprising, honestly, it’s just one of those days. I automatically walked up and knelt on her side, forgetting to take my shoes off in the foyer.
“Who is it this time?” I hushed, giving attention to her black strands clinging dry on her cheeks, softly flinging them aside while her head rested on the arm rest.
“Dad…”
“In the woods?” I glanced at her father’s hunting jacket she used as a blanket and carefully move it to wipe her tears, tucking its collar under her chin.
“No, couldn’t get past the door…”
“Okay, do you want to stand up now?”
“No…” A silence.
“Stay with me though?” Ah. There it is. Yeah, alright. Always.
She scooted on the couch to give me space and I obliged, lying down cramped with my shoes still on, faces inches from one another.
“What do you want for dinner?” I whispered, caressing her brow with my thumb. I’ll never get tired brushing her face this way.
She scoffed a smile. “Pancakes?”
“Pancakes?” my eyebrows shot up. Pancakes for dinner?
“Yeah, you smell like maple,” she chuckled, her eye wrinkles right under my thumb.
“Probably because of the maple butterscotch brownies I made for Sae’s granddaughter today,” I murmured, tracing lines on her nose. “She said she didn’t know what maple tastes like,”
“That’s so Peeta of you to do,” she grumbled, mustering all seriousness with her brows. That made me snort.
“Yeah, well.”
“I want those butterscotch stuff now.”
My smile got wider.
----
The next day, I set aside some of the cupcakes I frosted for the seamstress’s kid’s birthday to bring home for Katniss. I never got to take my shoes off when she wrapped her arms around my neck, her face on my chest, the boxed sweets held on my free arm as I put the other over her.
“Hello, again,” I say, giving her a kiss after leaning back. “I’ve got you something,”
I hid the blue box behind me, smirking at her head tilting in curiosity. “You have to guess it first!” I played.
“Is it food?”
“Mhm.”
“Cheese buns?”
“No, I just made those for you two days ago.” I chimed. Her and her obsession with cheese buns.
“Those butterscotch brownies?”
“Unfortunately sold out,”
“Wait,” She reached for the front of my jacket, sniffing it. Then she’s whiffing off my undershirt, my hands, my chest, my neck. I tried not to shiver when her nose pressed under my earlobe.
“Buttercream…”
I tried not to grin.
“Cupcakes?” She eagerly tugged on my jacket.
“Oh, Katniss,” I chuckled, presenting the box wrapped with a simple red bow. She unties it and quickly picks the one with green frosting.
“This would be dessert after venison!”
----
After that, I practically came home everyday bearing random pastries for her to guess. I never get my shoes off in the foyer when she hauls herself on me and give my daily hugs.
“Ooh, something creamy today,” she quipped, leaning back from my undershirt. “Is it a cake?”
“Not even close.”
“Tarts?”
I shake my head.
“Something with custard?”
“Probably.”
“Custard pie?”
“Warmer,”
“Egg pie?”
“Warmerrr,”
“Ice cream? Vanilla cake with cream frosting?” She tugs on my jacket repeatedly, almost shaking me to give up my answer.
“Sweetheart, you’re cold again.” I tried not to laugh at her growing impatience when strands from her braid fell on her face, the box still unreachable behind me, and my free arm curling those anrgy locks between my fingers. Her eyebrows are beginning to crease the way they do when she gets close enough to Haymitch’s geese.
“What is it, Mellark?” Oh, I love nothing more than seeing her scowl.
“Guess, Everdeen. Or I’ll eat this alone after din—” She cut off with a grasp on my head and a kiss on tiptoes.
“Tell me now, Mellark!”
“That’s coercion!” I teased. She leaned up for more pecks, but I backed away chuckling.
“Peeta!”
“Alright, let’s make a deal. Guess this right with three tries, or give me a kiss every time you bite to it.” I challenged, plastering an impish grin.
“How am I supposed to guess it? All pastries have cream!” Her eyebrows are close to meeting now.
“Oh yes, minced meat pie is creamy.”
“Is it minced meat pie?”
“No, it’s not savory.” I clued in, getting impatient myself. I didn’t even take my shoes and jacket off and we’ve been playing this guessing game for minutes now.
Just pick the latter and let me kiss you.
She crossed her arms playfully, “Screw you, Mellark. I’ll take the second option just because dinner is getting cold. Now give it.”
“Groundbreaking choice.” I thumbed her annoyed forehead and unraveled her angry arms, revealing the box from behind and untying the red ribbon.
Her creases came back when she saw the hidden pastry.
“How is bread pudding close to a pie?!” She exclaimed, all angry tone and yet she’s pinching off a piece from the pudding. I made some batches up from the stale ones.
She bites through the pinched bread. I took the first peck.
----
It became a routine. Coming home at dusk. Stomping my shoes on the foyer. Her arms clinging briefly, nose sniffing, her guessing every item right, a peck on the lips, a dinner and a dessert.
“You smell dill and garlic today,”
“Did it cling that strong?”
“Doesn’t matter. I like it, it’s soft, like a little savory treat.” She murmured in my ear, rendering me still when she softly nipped my earlobe.
She never does that.
Her arm swooped under my elbow, taking the blue box from my hands and revealing a bed of focaccia sprinkled with dills. “Hmmm,” she moaned through her bites and I fought the urge to kiss that crumb off on the side of her mouth.
Is she trying to kill me?
I coughed, brushing off her innuendos and finally taking my shoes off.
----
Assuming her favorite days were cinnamon and buttercream, she does more than just short kisses whenever those days come. The soft bites on my neck and earlobes happens only when I come home smelling like it. That’s the time I sink down my fingers in her hair a little deeper or my hands grip her hips a little tighter.
Today, I grasp her braid a little stronger, my arm roping around her backside, giving her neck some nips of my own. I breathed her in, taking a whiff of her own scent—woods, sweat, something feminine, and entirely Katniss—wishing I could store away some of her in this manner, freezing this moment. I let her lift my head and kiss me senseless, mouths meeting, tongues twirling.
“I, uh, frosted someone’s wedding cake today,” Taking a peck on her nose, I tried to catch my breath when we break away.
“requested something with cinnamon and buttercream frosting,” I sighed, brushing off her brow, noticing her now diluted eyes. I failed to bring anything home because of those three tiers.
“Good for them,” she breathed.
“Couldn’t bring home anything,”
“Good for me,” She gulped and collided our mouths again. She took my shoes off along with my jacket. Dinner got cold that night.
---
Fall had a slow welcome. It was a seasonably cold day when she doesn’t push herself to me after I opened the front door. Disappointed, I took off my shoes and head to the living room, finding her standing up from near the fireplace when she noticed me. Our memory book laying on the carpet along with some papers.
“Hey you,” her cold form wraps around mine and I tried not to ask her what’s wrong too quickly.
“Guess?” I quipped, pecking her red cheeks. Did she just come back from outside?
“Butter cookies?” even with her wavering tone, she was right. Although I don’t point out the way she hid a small choke when she hugged me.
“You okay?” I let out warm breath on my palms, placing them on either side of her face and this time I felt her visibly holding her breath, her nose scrunching. “What’s wrong? Who is it this time?”
“No, no episodes. I just… I was nauseous the whole afternoon and tried to walk it out. I think I just miss them,”
“Hm. Come here, let’s warm up,” I led her to the fireplace and sat down together, the memory book lay open in front of us.
“Actually Peeta, I think I’ll prepare dinner.” She suddenly stood up, giving me a kiss on the forehead before heading to the kitchen. That was uncharacteristic of her.
But I didn’t question it. Not yet.
I started to wonder when she doesn’t meet me in the foyer anymore. Our guessing game slowly turned from minute hugs to silent smiles. It was when I brought home some seasonal apple pie that she couldn’t hold back a gag when she tried to hug me.
Doesn't she like apples? Can’t I recall if she hated apples?
“God I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to gag at all. I just, I don’t know, it just smells sour.”
“I baked them fresh this morning so they’re likely not foul. But yeah, okay, I’ll just drop these off to Haymitch—”
“No, Peeta, your hands. They smell so apple-y.” Her expression was a twist of scowling and being disgusted. I sliced dozens of apples today so the scent clung too much even when I washed off with some soap.
“Sweetheart, we chopped all day at the bakery, the smell will last for some hours I think,”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know why, I always liked apples,”
“It’s okay, let me give these to Haymitch and then I’ll scrub off in the shower.”
----
The next day I brought home some of the extra orange cake slices, dreading she’ll also hate these.
They were never put down on the table.
She devoured three slices in minutes.
Also gobbled my orange scented fingers.
----
Still mildly unhappy we didn’t return to our guessing games after a week, I didn’t bring anything with me today. I was taking my shoes off when I saw her beaming by the couch, her face tinted red with anticipation and she looks like she’s about to cry.
“What? What is it?” I rushed to her in my loose shoes and jacket still on.
“Peeta, I think I know why.”
Eyebrows crinkled. My hands on her elbows.
"You know I always love what you make but...
Her fingers fidgeting. Her blushing cheeks and silver stare the only things registering in my mind.
“I think I’m pregnant.”
She guessed right.
#everlark#post mockingjay#everlark drabble#peeta mellark#katniss everdeen#the hunger games#everlark fic
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You voted, I delivered! Just a small drabble of Katniss getting injured while hunting and Peeta takes care of her. Short and sweet, I apologize for my rusty writing, it’s been a while.
Katniss returned home with a few scrapes on her hands and a limp after a hunting session. Usually she had an animal with her, but not this time. She was on a trail with a lot of tree roots that were above ground, took one wrong step and tripped. Once inside, the bow was hung up on a rack and the quiver of arrows were resting against the wall.
“I’m home.” She exclaimed, walking into the living room and leaned into the doorway. Peeta was folding a page in his book and getting up to greet her.
He furrowed her brows, noticing Katniss had no game with her. “No luck?”
She sighs, shaking her head,”I fell. I could always go back out later.”
“Are you alright?” His voice is full of worry as he gently takes her hands into his own, but pulls away as he sees her wince. Katniss turned them over, revealing the small scrapes on them.
Already, the boy was heading to the bathroom for the first aid kit. “No way you’re going back out there, Katniss.”
“But-“
“No.”
Katniss sighs, carefully making her way over to the sofa and sitting down. Why did she even bother to argue? This girl could have a bruise, and Peeta would be worried like this - but that’s the thing she liked about him, he always cared for her. He just never wanted to see her hurt in any way possible.
He returned to the living room and crouched down, placing the first aid kit on the floor. “Do you think you fractured your ankle?” He asks, starting to remove her boot and sock.
“Peeta, I swear I’m fine.”
Her ankle was swollen and not bent at an odd angle, so it must’ve been a sprain - nothing more. He still ended up wrapping it with an elastic bandage so it could reduce the swelling at least. Once the foot injury was dealt with, he sat on the cushion next to Katniss and asked to see her hands. She laid them flat, palm upwards so he could examine. There ended up being splinters, which he carefully took out with a pair of tweezers and disinfected the scrapes then bandaged them up too.
“Didn't know you were a doctor and a baker.” Katniss teased, a smile forming on her face. “But thank you, Peeta.”
“Learned from the best.” He replied, packing away the equipment,”We take care of each other… It’s just what we do.”
“So, doc… What do you suggest now?”
“To rest.” Peeta gestures to her bandaged ankle,”You’re not hunting until that is healed, I’m afraid.”
“Are you saying you’re going to be the one to hunt?” She jokes.
“I’d never dare to take the Girl on Fire’s place.” He shook his head with a chuckle,”Now let’s get you to bed, hm?” Peeta stood and carefully picked Katniss up in his arms, bridal style.
#my writing isn’t good here sorry#everlark#kinda don’t like this but enjoy#everlark oneshot#everlark is life#Peeta mellark#Katniss everdeen#comfort#worried peeta#thg#thg oneshot#thg drabble#everlark drabble#katniss#peeta#writer
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“So, how’s it working out with Peeta?”
Katniss doesn’t turn to look, and instead continues trimming the delphiniums in the garden.
“It’s going great. He’s very good to me.”
Katniss cringes upon hearing the soles of Ines’ shoes crush against the freshly-mown grass.
“Peeta’s good to everyone, though,” Ines grins like a cat.
“And he should be. Isn’t it just something a decent human being should be doing?”
Ines digs her foot into the grass. “Of course it is. What I mean is, you’re not all that special to him, Katniss Everdeen. This marriage will end sooner or later, and it’ll be Peeta who instigates it.”
“And you’re quite a pathetic attention-seeker, aren’t you?” Katniss drops the pair of shears and turns to face her.
“You don’t know anything about Peeta Mellark, do you?” Ines trails around the garden, her every step aggressive and rough as her shoes dig into the ground, causing striking damage to the greenery.
“You don’t know that he doesn’t take sugar in his tea,” Ines stops to pluck a flower from a bush. Katniss had just prepared him a cup of tea with a whole pack of sugar in it a couple of days ago, which he had finished without a drop left in the cup.
“You don’t know that he likes to sleep with the windows open,” Ines tosses the flower behind her. Katniss had asked on their first night together if it was alright for the windows to be shut, and he had told her he liked sleeping with the windows shut as well.
“You don’t know anything,” Ines looks at Katniss in the eye, “You don’t know anything because you didn’t grow up with him, you two aren’t meant to be together, and this whole marriage of yours is just a miserable twist of fate.”
Katniss glares at her without a word, her fists clenched.
Ines, satisfied with her reaction, twirls around and walks away as if nothing had happened.
Katniss picks up the shears and goes back to trimming the delphiniums, and somehow it gives her some sort of comfort, but not for long. A tear rolls down her cheek.
-
Katniss doesn’t even notice that the front door’s been opened and shut. She doesn’t even notice when Peeta announces his arrival while kicking off his socks and shoes at the door.
She sits sullenly on the floor of their bedroom, staring at a spot on the wall.
“Katniss?” Peeta lightly taps her shoulder, which startles her. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. Are you okay?”
“Oh, uh yeah, yeah. I’m fine. How’s the bakery today?”
“I brought back your favourite. Let’s have it in the kitchen,” he smiles and helps her up and leads her to the kitchen table, where a delicious-smelling loaf of raisin-and-nut bread sat.
“I had some spare time today, so I decided to make this for you since you haven’t had it in a while. It’s just the way you like it,” Peeta says as he slices the loaf into pieces with a knife.
He places a slice on her plate, “Have it while it’s warm. I ran home from the bakery just so it wouldn’t cool.”
“Thank you, Peeta,” Katniss takes a bite and breaks out into a grin. “You never disappoint.”
Peeta observes her quietly as he eats his own slice. Normally, she would be telling him about her day and rave about how she was getting better at managing the garden, something she never imagined she would be able to do.
For some reason, the crumb of bread on the table is seemingly more interesting to Katniss tonight.
“Peeta?”
“Hm?”
“I didn’t realise you like your tea without sugar.”
He stares at her, surprised. “It’s fine. I like it both ways actually.”
“You could’ve told me the other day when I dumped a whole pack of sugar into your tea, you know.”
Peeta laughs. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not that important whether I have sugar in my tea or not. You prepared it for me, and that’s all that matters.”
Katniss sighs. “You didn’t tell me you like to sleep with the windows open either. This isn’t how it’s supposed to work, you know. It’s supposed to be me and you. Not just me.”
Peeta smiles, and pulls her chair towards him. He takes her hands and massages them gently.
“I want it to be just you.”
“We’re in an arranged marriage, Peeta. It’s not like the movies, it doesn’t always work out. I don’t know much about you, I’ve never really done anything for you. You’ve been the one doing everything for me. And for some reason, you seem to know me so well with everything that you do.”
“Katniss,” he looks down at her hands and then her face. “Why do you think that of yourself? Just because Ines tells you that you don’t know about my preference to sleep with the windows open and to have no sugar in my tea, you think this relationship is doomed? Why haven’t you thought about how you decided to learn gardening because I told you that I like gardening? Why haven’t you thought about how you always save the best parts of the game you hunt for me? I’m still learning about you, Katniss, I’m still finding more parts of you to love everyday, as if there isn’t enough to love about you already. I know you’re doing the same.”
He reaches out to hold her face and pulls her in for a long kiss.
“Okay?”
Katniss nods with an embarrassed smile, her cheeks red and her head dizzy.
“How did you know about Ines?”
Peeta snorts. “I guessed that she’s been trying to give you some ideas. Ines has always been annoying, even when we were kids. I hoped that she would grow out of it, but I guess some people are just like that forever.”
Katniss chuckles. “Shall we sleep with the windows open tonight?”
“Katniss.”
#everlark#everlark fanfiction#everlark drabble#katniss everdeen#peeta mellark#katniss x peeta#the hunger games#FINALLY A DRABBLE AFTER FOREVER HOPE YOU LIKE IT GUYS my inspiration will probably dry again help
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first kiss
an in-panem, no games everlark oneshot
wc: 2222
Today is the first day. The first day I’m allowing Peeta to go steady with me. We’ve been tiptoeing around each other for the better part of two years now, until I finally crossed that line last night when I leaned in and pressed my lips against his at the Harvest Festival.
Just the thought of it makes me giddy with joy and a blush colours my cheeks.
Of course Madge won’t let it just slide when she sees it.
“What has you all hot and bothered Everdeen?”
My head whips back from Peeta’s vacant seat in the back to Madge’s to the right of me. “What?”
Her eyes trail back to Peeta’s seat and a smirk blooms across her face. It’s honestly terrifying. The maniacal joy in the search for my misery and embarrassment clashes with the cherubic face dotted with freckles and lined with corn silk blonde hair. Oh no.
“Or should I say who?”
Before she can begin the true teasing, I’m saved by our history teacher Mrs. Earworm. There’s a first for everything I suppose.
Last night surely taught me that.
It’s hopeless to even try to focus on the lesson. Though I do have Mrs. Earworm to thank for the consistent background noise that is her droning voice to set up the backdrop of my thoughts and tune out everything.
He’s in a dark green shirt, my favourite colour. I’m in my father’s old sweater and the only pair of jeans my mother owns. I really tried to find an outfit that would make me look beautiful for Peeta, and I wanted to wear his favourite colour, but I could only find the deep red sweater with specks of burnt orange. Throughout the night, I pinch my cheeks to bring colour to them like the girls in Town do with their makeup tins of blush.
Peeta leans closer to me, his breath crystallising in the air with mine in a giant satisfying puff. We sit on a bale of hay off to the side, tuckered out from all the dancing. The sun is long gone and only a few stragglers remain, swaying close together as a slow song plays from the fiddle. No one blinks an eye at us, already too far gone in their drinks or simply not caring about two teenagers dallying out at almost one in the morning.
His hand twitches and lands on my hip. The lanterns and fairy lights above blur everything into a softlight, and cast a halo through his pale messy hair. My heart races as he places his other shaking hand onto my hip and licks his lips. I know he’s staring at mine because I was staring at his not even two seconds ago.
Is this what my mother felt like? Drawn into my father like a moth to a flame?
I want his light to flood into me. I don’t want to capture it in a jar but I want to let it flow in both of us, so we can bask in it together. If he’ll allow.
As I raise my hand to brush away a lock of blonde from his eye, I smile at the small indentations left by the hay in the palm of my hand. Peeta smiles too, not knowing my reason for it, but wanting to share in it all the same. I know I react the same all the time.
It’s impossible not to smile when Peeta’s happiness shines everywhere around him and blocks out even the clouds.
His hand strokes my cheek and I lean into his warm skin with a shiver and close my eyes. I didn’t even notice his hand begin to travel from my hip until I felt his touch, too focused on the sight of his lips and eyes. I let the feeling of his warmth spread through me with a smile and place my hand over his, hoping to give him the same.
“Can I kiss you Katniss?”
I nod shyly, my cheeks blushing an even darker shade of red than I thought possible. They’ve been in a perpetual state of red ever since the Harvest Festival began. Or well, ever since Peeta walked down to my shack of a house in the Seam to escort me to the square, the whole time my hand held safely within his own.
“Yes.” Please.
His short bursts of warm breath puff against the seam of my lips. I close my eyes again. People are supposed to close their eyes when they kiss, right? Madge says it’s creepy to have guys staring straight into her soul.
I inch closer to him, connecting our hips and knees together so they’re flush against each other and there’s no space between them. Except for the fabric of our clothes. His top lip lightly brushes my bottom one and I sigh.
Everything is new and strange but I also feel like I’ve done this a thousand times with him before. I bring my other hand to the nape of his neck, tugging on the curly strands there. We pull apart, but not for long. I stare into his eyes that twinkle under the lights and surge back into him. My leg nestles between his thighs now and-
The harsh crash of a book against my desk nearly sends me into a heart attack. My hands startle away from under my chin and the finger that was on my lip drops to my side.
“Oh it must’ve been good.”
I look back to Peeta’s desk and it’s still empty. My heart drops at the sight but I try to ignore it. I’m just being silly. He probably is running late from the early morning shift at the bakery his brothers no doubt pinned onto him because of last night. I cringe at the thought. I never want Peeta to be in trouble because of me.
“Shut up Madge.” I hiss at her and clumsily gather my things to scurry out of the room.
I can hear her cackle echo behind me until I slip out through the door. I never knew she could cackle like that but I’m not surprised. She’s as special as me, even if she is a Merchant.
My pulse shoots straight up like the game with the hammer and the bell at the Harvest Festival. I don’t know how my poor heart handles me these days.
Peeta is looking directly at me over the shoulder of one of his friends. The circle of boys laughs at a joke he says and I smile at the way his eyes crease with humour. I like down at myself. I’m in a worn-down sweater darned with all different colours and patchy corduroy green pants. I frown down at my muddy boots and tuck back a strand of hair that came loose from my braid back behind my ear.
The shame is instantly gone once I catch Peeta’s smile again. My grin is so broad I fear it might split my face as I wave sheepishly at him. He keeps staring. And talking. And staring. His eyes squint, most likely with another laugh incoming.
I feel stupid waving my arm for almost thirty seconds with no acknowledgement and slap it down against my thigh.
And he rounds a corner out of sight without even a nod of his head to me.
Oh.
I thought he was different. I thought I was different.
So he only wants me under the light of the new moon. Where no one at all can see us under the dim stars. His dirty little secret.
My chest aches with a pain I never knew was possible before. Like someone reached straight inside and held my heart hostage with their inhumane grip. My heart sinks right through the floor under my feet, under the foundation of the school and deep in the dirt. I sniffle, but quickly shut that down. I’m angry. I’m pissed. I am not sad. He doesn’t deserve that from me.
Madge respects my need for space and quiet, sensing my complete change in attitude as I sit down next to her for our next class.
I don’t even know why I do it. Apparently I have no respect for myself and want him to trample all over me whenever he pleases. Or maybe I just want to yell at him, unfurl all of the hurt and anger that simmers in me and unleash it at him so we’re both stuck with it. I linger under the oak tree we always meet at after school for another second. A second too long it seems. Because he’s right on time.
His face looks far too cheery at the prospect of being with me. It just won’t do.
I turn on my heel, crossing my arms over my chest and ignore him. See how you like it, Peeta.
He catches up with me far too quickly, grabbing the crook of my elbow and forcing me to stop in my tracks.
“Hey, pretty girl, what’s the rush?”
“Why do you care?”
“Huh?!”
“You know some of your friends are still out here.” My head swivels to gesture around the schoolyard. “I didn’t think you’d want to be seen slumming it with a Seam slut.”
“Katniss what?”
“Oh don’t pretend like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing. I have some pride, you know. I’m not going to waste my first kiss on someone who doesn’t even recognise my existence but thinks he can
“What are you talking about? I didn’t see you at all today until now. I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to come into history and I needed to use lunch to feed the pigs.” His brows furrow in confusion.
I have to admit, he’s a pretty great actor. Maybe the Capitol would make an exception and welcome someone district into their ranks.
“I was right in the hallway after history. You sure were having a good time with your friends it seemed. Enough to stare straight through me even when I was waving at you for a minute like an idiot and not even give me the basic decency of acknowledging my existence.”
He frowns and turns me closer to him, both his hands on the outside of my elbows.
“Katniss, I didn't see you.”
“You didn’t see me or you didn’t see me?” I still want to be mad at him but it’s difficult with how miserable he looks, especially when his blue eyes are weighed down with everything he feels.
“Honestly I didn’t see you, I truly am sorry Katniss.” He explains sheepishly to me.
“Hmmm.”
I rip open my zipper and tear a piece of plain paper from deep in the bowels that is the pit of my bag. I’ve seen my mom do this test enough to understand what to do. It’s simple enough, really.
“Stay put.” I uncap the marker and walk slowly away from him, squinting myself as I approximate the distance that was between us in the hall. I scribble a letter onto it as I hold the cap in my mouth and press the flimsy paper against my palm. “Now what does it say?”
I hold up the card to my chest.
“Um… little d?”
I look at the letter in my hand and frown. An uppercase B is definitely not a lowercase d but they are similar enough.
“Hold on.” I call out to him.
I flip the paper and scribble a giant A with the marker and hold it up.
“T?” His response raises up at the end in an uncertain voice.
I shake my head with a teasing smile. As I approach him, I wag my finger back and forth at him and place the paper in his hand. The other hand is reserved to hold mine and he squeezes it in relief at my acceptance of his affection and attention now.
“You sir, need glasses.”
He scoffs and rolls his eyes. “I can see perfectly fine Katniss. I don't need glasses.”
“For most things, yes, but my little baker boy I’m sorry to say you definitely did not pass the eye exam today.”
He sighs, looking up from our linked hands into my eyes with a timid smile.
“It’s just-” I nod, encouraging him to say what’s on his mind. “If I admit it then it’s real. I really thought it would go away on its own somehow.”
I smile at the notion and shake my head at him again. Bringing our hands up to my face, I press a kiss to his knuckles.
“It’s okay, we’ll figure this out together. Maybe someone in the Hob will have glasses in good shape.”
I don’t have to say it and he knows it as well as I do. His mother would never buy him a pair of glasses.
Peeta reaches around my waist, pulling my body flush against his and I tuck my head under his chin.
He breathes into my hair. “I’m sorry my eyes didn’t capture your magnificent beauty in the hall today. But you really are so pretty today and everyday.”
“Apology accepted.” I grin up at him. “You know how you can make it up to me?”
He leans into me with a grin, of the same mind as I am.
#everlark#katniss everdeen#peeta mellark#everlark fic#everlark drabble#one shot#adsofraser writing#no games in-panem au#thg#the hunger games#first kiss#everlark one shot
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@safeinpeetasarms made the argument that Lumberjack!Peeta is canon. Then this scene formed.
No Games/In Panem AU rated M
~
the lumberjack’s axe 🪓
~
The noise pattern has grown louder and louder with her every step. She shouldn’t be surprised when she rounds the alleyway but somehow she still is.
Peeta’s blonde beard has fully filled in since she last saw his stubbled face.
The long winter months have not weakened his broad frame. He wields an axe on a freshly sectioned pine. Focused on the task before him. If he knows she’s watching, he hasn’t hinted at it yet.
“Hello.”
“Oh, hi Katniss.” Peeta rests the axe across his shoulders as he greets her. His open flannel shirt falls to each side.
His clothing choice is confusing. A warm thick flannel but covering just his arms and back. Is he hot? Is he cold? Obviously he’s hot. Enough of that, she’s here on business.
“I have three squirrels today.” She swallows too loud. “What are you doing out here?”
“As of Sunday, Bran is officially the new owner of the Apothecary.” He gives her a sad glance. “This was his favorite chore. Clears your head.”
“I never saw him chop firewood.” The stack lined against the back of the bakery seemed to magically never shrink. It was a fixture of her trades she’s paid little attention to until now.
“That’s cause he used to do it in the evenings.” Peeta lines up his next chunk of wood.
“And you’ve chosen the exact time I come to trade as the ideal moment for this?”
“Yep.”
He swings the axe down, every muscle flexes with the practiced motion. His sculpted forearms exposed by the way he’s pushed up his sleeves halfway.
He sets up the next log, pausing to catch her eyes. A lickable bead of sweat runs down his neck.
“What do you want, Peeta?? Do you think I’ll jump all over you right here in your yard?”
“It’d be nice.” The chop accompanies his nonchalance. The wood splits perfectly, falling into the piles on each side of the stump.
“Stop it.” She barely holds back the foot stomp. “This is the equivalent of me waltzing around in front of you shooting my bow in nothing but my underwear.”
“You’re right, that sounds terrible.” Peeta sticks his axe in the wood before coming to stand in front of her. “Not as terrible as marrying me though, right?”
Katniss tries to keep her tone and face neutral. “You know why I can’t.”
“I’m going either way. As soon as Rye’s first is born, I’m off to the mines. That’s how it works.”
That’s only how it works if he isn’t betrothed to another merchant.
She’ll drive the wedge as far as she must to protect him. “In that case, maybe I need to start dating someone else soon.”
His eye twitches ever so slightly. The tell let’s her know she hit her mark. But Peeta has his own tricks. He fixes a loose hair that’s escaped her braid. His hand grazes down her face as he leans in. “And maybe I need to keep you hot and bothered enough so that won’t be a problem.”
She’s squirming. It’s been so long since he’s touched her.
She can’t ignore the longing in his deep blue eyes for much longer. “The mines are my choice, Katniss. Do I have to keep staying away until then? Is that really what you want?”
She hates the way her vision is blurring from the tears she refuses to let him see. She stares down at his double knotted boots. “It’s not about what I want.”
They don’t need to have this fight again.
Katniss shakes her head. “How’s Delly doing?”
“Better. She seems to be through the worst of the morning sickness. Now she’s craving raisins of all things.”
None of this was supposed to happen this soon. Delly and Rye’s toasting was over a year away when Peeta told her about the pregnancy.
“Five more months.” Katniss isn’t sure if she says it to him or herself. Only five more months to change his mind.
“If I could sign up today, I would.”
There is no waver in his words. She knows he still means it. The Capitol’s business succession laws that keep the Merchant class separated. Strange customs around bloodlines that seem more fit for some ancient kingdom than bakers and cobblers. A birth certificate or a marriage license with her, whichever comes first, will usher him into Seam exile.
She never should have let things get this far. Should have insisted on only trading with one of his brothers or turned him down for that clandestine dance at the Festival. Never should have kissed him in the meadow or shared those perfect days at the lake. Or under the trees. Or at her house. Or at the slag heap.
Now instead of fleeting moments of happiness, he has forever in mind. Together through the good and the bad, the mundane and the memorable. He wants everything she never promised.
And she wants everything he did promise.
Peeta meanders back to the wood. “I need to keep chopping away at this pile.” He dislodges the axe and swings it over his shoulder. Once again exposing the full breadth of his chest. A lopsided smirk peeks through his beard. “Let me know if you need any firewood for the cabin. If you want to try that archery in your underwear idea, I’ll chop the wood in mine.”
Katniss spins on her heels and marches out of the yard. Looks like she’s having fried squirrel for dinner. How weak does he think she is? She’s no green pine that bows at the slightest touch from his blade.
~
Lumberjack Peeta featured heavily in their foreplay that summer.
🌲 🌲 🌲 🪓
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Post-war Everlark drabble. Rated T.
I wake with Peeta at the end of our bed, gripping onto the brass bedpost, hunched over and breathing deeply. He's in one of his episodes. After three years of therapy they are fewer and farther between, but they still happen.
I crawl out from the covers and make my way to him, flattening myself against his back. I stroke the back of his hands and then up and down his arms, waiting for him to come out of it. I start to worry as it goes on for several minutes–much longer than it's been for quite some time.
I start to talk to him in soft tones, letting him know that I'm here and he's safe.
Slowly, his grip relaxes and the muscles in his body underneath me ease. His breathing retains its deep nature and then he's letting go of the bedpost. My arms slide up his and around his torso, feeling his heart underneath my palm.
"We protect each other. Real or not real?" he says.
"Real."
"We live together. Real or not real?"
"Real."
He pauses and takes a few more deep breaths before he asks, "You love me. Real or not real?"
"Real."
I hear the speed at which his heart is still beating and the way he's still tense around me. We've been working on talking to each other more about what's bothering us, but Peeta can still keep so quiet about it.
I pull back to scoot to his side and look at his face. He's weary and pained, and I want to take it away from him.
I kiss his cheek and wind my arm through his. "Peeta? What is it?"
"I've just...I've been thinking," he says, gaze forward and away from me. "When the episodes come, I have so many words in my head that I'm trying to use to make sense of who you are. And when it's bad, I get confused."
Ally. Friend. Lover. Enemy. Fiancée. Target. Mutt. Some of the terms Peeta had once used to describe me batter around in my head. Who knows what others he had never said? And it hurts to think that there are still moments he's not sure what I am to him.
"It might seem silly," he says, "but sometimes I think if I had one word I could tell myself, one word I could use to ground me in what's real, maybe the episodes could get better."
"That makes sense," I agree.
"What do you think I should use?"
Other people have thrown around words to describe what I am to Peeta and he to me. Lover. Girlfriend/boyfriend. Partner. Sweetheart. It hadn't mattered to us. We'd never defined ourselves to each other before. We'd gone from friends to sleeping in the same bed to making and professing love, and finally living together. I'd never cared for those terms others had used, none of them fitting everything we meant to each other. Now for the first time, Peeta's asking me to tell him what it is I think I am to him, to help him come back from these frightening episodes.
Only one word clicks into my head as the right one.
"Wife," I say.
His confusion grows deeper and he shakes his head. "We aren't married."
"Is that all?" I ask, a smile growing on my face. "We can take care of that."
"You would...marry me?" His voice is in awe and somehow my smile still grows wider.
"Real," I tell him. And then he scoops me up in his arms and peppers kisses on my mouth, my cheek, my jaw.
"Wife," Peeta says, low and husky in my ear. "You're my wife."
"Mmmm," I hum as his lips kiss my neck and he touches me, eager and heated. "And what a lucky wife I am."
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Redwood Scandal
By @mega-aulover
Author's Note: This is based on the TV show Scandal, a political drama about a President that was in love with his crisis manager. This ficlet, however, takes place in the 1940s instead of the current date, the views on PTSD were much different then and it fits that Katniss would defend someone who was helpless and spiraling.
Special thanks to my beta and best friend @norbertsmom for taking time out of her busy schedule to help edit.
Rated T
Katniss sat listening to the latest crises involving Ryan Mellark, President Mellark’s brother. She tapped her pencil on her notebook. She should have been concentrating, but her mind was on the man sitting just across from her. Her skin prickled and her heart rate increased when his intelligent blue eyes trained on her.
Rye was out with a Hollywood starlet and crashed his car in the redwood forest. As a result, Peeta was meeting with three cabinet heads. Plutarch, the head of National Security was quietly listening and avoiding her gaze. Haymitch, the Secretary of State, and Effie, the Secretary of the Interior were bickering.
"Mr. President," Haymitch groused from the other side of the table. "I'm afraid your brother's antics are..."
"Intolerable," Effie Trinket harumphed with her nose in the air.
"Haymitch, what are you driving at?" Plutarch asked.
Haymitch took the newspapers and laid them on the table. Rye had become front-line news. The Post labeled him Wrecked-Mellark a play on getting drunk. "And that's a sample of what the Americans feel," Haymitch said. "It's picked up on the radio. They like a war hero, they just don't like a drunk one."
Katniss wanted to roll her eyes. Rye Mellark was a decorated war hero who liked to drink and it was worrying. She'd seen it coming and warned the other Mellark brother Graham, but Graham didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want Katniss anywhere near Peeta. He coldly told her to stick her nose out of family affairs.
Now the situation that could have been averted, had become worse. It didn’t matter what Peeta’s family wanted. She was a crisis manager. She spun bad news like this into rainbows and unicorns.
"He did irreparable damage to one of the beloved National Parks. And then he...defecated..." Effie sputtered.
"He took a piss, Effie," Haymitch said.
"In front of the reporter!" Effie ground out with clenched teeth.
Katniss looked into those blue eyes of Peeta's. He smiled sadly at her. He was one of the greatest Presidents ever elected, but because of his brother, every great piece of legislation passed was overshadowed by the antics of his older brother Ryan. But to Peeta, his Presidency didn't matter, it was his brother that needed help. Peeta's compassion was one of the reasons she'd fallen hard for him.
Everything Katniss wanted had been an upscale battle. She fought to be educated. Fought for her voice to be heard. She achieved so much in her young life. Peeta was the one thing she couldn't have. So she sacrificed for him. Gave him everything that she could, her time, her mind, her everything.
Madge, his wife, was terribly jealous of her and thus why Plutarch was presently ignoring her presence.
"Enough," Peeta commanded, and the cabinet members quieted.
"Mr. President," Plutarch said, straightening his purple tie as he stood. "I can have your brother reinstated in the military and shipped off to some far-flung island. This way he's away for six months to a year. And in that time the public will forget about him.”
"Miss Everdeen..." Peeta said, turning to face her.
"Mr. President, we don't need Miss Everdeen or her council." Plutarch stood in such a way that he commanded the attention of the room. "We are your cabinet and we advise on all matters of the state. What I've proposed can be enacted quickly." Plutarch finally looked into her eyes and smirked at her knowing Peeta would do anything for his brother, including sending him away. "Mr. President, this is the only way to take care of the problem."
Katniss sat back and raised an eyebrow. She didn't like the way Plutarch referred to Rye as 'the problem.' Rye was a human being and had Graham listened to her a few months ago, they wouldn't be here. "I don't think that's the right course of action."
"I agree with Plutarch, he is a menace..." Effie began. "He has no regard for morality."
Haymitch's lips thinned. "He made a mistake...there are a lot of men like Rye who are messed up because of the war..."
"You're a bleeding heart," Plutarch accused Haymitch.
"Yeah well, I've been through two wars, so maybe there's a reason," Haymitch spat back. He then turned to Katniss, "What do you have in mind, Sweetheart?"
"I think your brother needs treatment," Katniss said, squaring her shoulders. "He might be suffering from shell shock."
"What would you know about the war?" Plutarch sniggered.
She took the Post and said, "I was put on the front lines helping soldiers, nursing them back to health," Katniss said. "I was wounded by shrapnel and Peeta was the person who got me out. I know better than anyone what war was like Plutarch."
"You don't have to remind us how you two met," Plutarch grumbled.
"Then why are you acting like a blithering idiot?" Katniss questioned.
Peeta coughed, hiding his smile.
It was while convalescing that she and Peeta got close.
"Rye needs help," Peeta cleared his throat. "I want to know what you have in mind?"
"There is a clinic run by a man by the name of Dr. Aurelius. He helps people like your brother who experienced great trauma."
"Your brother doesn't need a quack, he needs to grow up," Plutarch said.
Katniss hated the erroneous sentimentality about mental health society held. "With all due respect, Mr. Secretary, Dr. Aurelius is highly recommended."
Plutarch snorted.
Effie was too busy sending nasty looks to Haymitch to speak.
"There are thousands of broken men who returned from the war. And I'm not talking about men who are missing a leg or an arm. I mean the men who are hurting on the inside. Rye can show them there is nothing wrong with getting help."
"How long?" Peeta asked
"Dr. Aurelius can help him become sober in as little as three months." Katniss watched Peeta's hands as they flattened on the table as if they were reaching out to her as she spoke. "After three months Rye can make an appearance by planting trees at one of the National Parks. Show some goodwill. We can even get that starlet he was with and several other Hollywood notables to help."
"What if he goes back to drinking?" Effie asked.
"Dr. Aurelius will give him an evaluation. He can recommend Rye to do an outpatient clinic or if he needs to stay, then more time at the Clinic."
"The public loves a comeback story," Haymitch said. "And if it will help the nation, we can make legislation to help the veterans."
Effie frowned. "We do have a rather important opening of Fort Vancouver coming up...I could use the press."
"Mr. President," Plutarch said. "You can't be considering this?"
"Mr. President, I spoke to Dr. Aurelius, they have a spot open for him," Katniss said.
"Fine, make it happen, Miss. Everdeen," Peeta said.
Plutarch turned as purple as his tie and rushed out of the room.
Haymitch cleared his throat, "Effie, do you want to go to lunch?"
"Only if you're buying," Effie flirted as she left with Haymitch.
Katniss sat in the room with Peeta.
"Thank you," Peeta said.
"Your welcome," Katniss breathed. "He…the doctor, helped my mother, you know, after my dad...."
Peeta nodded. Katniss put her hand on the table and Peeta covered them with his. "Katniss."
Katniss closed her eyes, loving the feel of his warmer hand covering hers. Her heart melted and cried for more contact. She looked down at their hands and she spied his wedding band, the moment was broken. "Peeta...Madge...she's got people watching us."
Peeta squeezed Katniss’s hands. "Screw Madge, I don't love her - never did." Madge was the woman his parents wanted him to marry. The marriage was phonier than a six-dollar bill. "I've only ever loved you, Katniss."
"Peeta we can't," Katniss pulled away. Standing, she began to collect her things. She heard Peeta's chair scrape backward and within seconds he was behind her. His hands gripped her shoulders. She felt his warm breath on her neck. It was the most exquisite torture. She wanted him with every fiber of her being.
"If I could, I'd leave her, leave all of this behind for you."
"No," she whispered, slipping away from his loose grasp. His face was a cacophony of emotions as he battled for control. Peeta loved her but he couldn't show it. "I can't be selfish. People need you, Peeta. The whole country needs you. Remember what we talked about when we met. How we would change the world."
"I wanted to be President and you made it happen."
"Well, the Undersee's money helped," she joked, as she wiped an errant tear that rolled down her cheek.
Peeta laughed mirthlessly.
When they met, a deep bond formed between them. They spent those long hours recuperating and planning for a future they would never have, even if Peeta was trapped in a loveless marriage.
Katniss respected that union. She wouldn't-couldn't cross that line. She knew she was all wrong for him. Katniss was from the wrong side of the tracks. She grew up dirt poor and to those few who knew her secret, she was the wrong race. Her father was half black, but passed as a white man. Her mother was a white woman. Katniss looked a lot like her father.
Peeta didn't care.
Peeta prized Katniss's ability to think on her feet. He relied on her, and as long as he needed her, she would be there for him. She would devote her life to him.
Peeta lifted her hand and pressed his palm to hers. She stepped back before her resolve broke and she did something foolish, like kissing him.
"When this is over, Katniss, I'm getting a divorce and then I'm marrying you," Peeta said.
Katniss smiled. She believed him. Peeta always kept his promises.
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so this is a thing now - a drabble
A/N: Inspired by a post @oakfarmer tagged me in. Enjoy this silly little thing!
—
Rrring. Rrring.
“Hey, Katniss, is Fin-”
“Hey, Annie. Yup, he’s still over here,” Katniss interrupts her dear friend’s obvious question.
“They’re still filming?”
“You know how they’ve been ever since that one post went viral. When an idea comes to mind, they’re laser focused on it.”
Annie sighs, “Yeah I should’ve known better. Well, I’ll head over there and hang with you then.”
“Sounds good. Wine and cheese will be ready when you get here.”
—
Twenty minutes later, Annie arrives at Katniss’ and Peeta’s place. Katniss is sitting on a picnic blanket on the front lawn with wine in hand, munching a piece of cheese from the charcuterie board she prepared.
Annie joins her. After pouring herself a glass of wine, she looks across the yard to the front of the garage. “So this is our entertainment for tonight, huh?”
“It sure is.”
They clink their wine glasses and settle in to enjoy the show.
Their show? Finnick and Peeta creating spooky season videos like so:
#everlark#everlark drabble#thg#thg drabble#silly shenanigans#modern!everlark#daydreamsandcaffeine writes
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143 for the prompts please xxx
"Are you trying to turn me on, or are you really that oblivious?"
From 150 Random Writing Prompts
A follow-up to this drabble, You've Never Even Touched Yourself?
I should have one more part based on another prompt in my inbox.
"Well, here I am," Katniss said, plopping on the bed next to Peeta without giving herself a heart attack. Not an easy task with the onslaught of nervous excitement. She was grateful Morning Katniss remembered to make the bed before leaving for school. Touseled sheets would have been way too suggestive for kissing him there.
At least, she thought it would be too suggestive. She had to be reading way too much into this. It was just a kiss. Not that big of a deal, right?
Oh god, she was panicking.
"Hi," Peeta said. His eyes met hers, teeth digging into the corner of his mouth, biting back a smile.
Had she ever paid attention to his mouth before today?
"Relax. Make yourself at home," he added, gesturing across her bedroom invitingly.
His dumb jokes broke the tension enough for her to roll her eyes. "You sound like a talk-show host."
He huffed. "Okay, I'll just make myself comfortable if you're not going to play along. You're not making it easy on me, trying to seduce you like I am," he said.
"Peeta---".
Man, she might be uptight, but he was going to kill her saying things like that. Her imagination was way too active.
He took her hand, squeezing it reassuringly. "Kidding. I'm just trying to get you to laugh. You look like Buttercup when he realizes it's time to go to the vet.
"Don't compare me to that cat." Blowing out a breath, she made an effort to relieve the tightness in her chest. "Is it that obvious?"
He nodded. "If you hadn't asked me to kiss you, I'd think this was the last thing you wanted to do."
Her eyes dropped to her feet. My, what ugly socks she was wearing. She definitely wasn't avoiding his gaze. "No. I, I want to," she said.
"Alright." From her peripherals, she sensed him moving closer. "Katniss?"
"Hmmm?"
It happened fast. One moment, he was on his side of the bed, and the next, he was kissing her. Fingertips on her jaw, gently turning her face toward his. Lips pressing against hers, soft and a little dry. She sighed. Her hands needed somewhere to go, so she grasped his shoulder. At one point, she thought he was going to pull away, so she leaned in further, tilting her face so their lips met fully, each parting a little.
When he leaned back again, she carded her fingers through his hair. "Don't stop," she said, kissing him again. She couldn't get enough of him.
"No?"
"Please." Why hadn't they been doing this with each other all along?
Her heart felt like it was beating out of her chest, and he sucked in a breath as she moved closer. She couldn't get close enough. Sitting up, she climbed across his lap and lowered herself to sit on his thighs.
"Oh god," he whimpered.
"Sorry?" she paused, embarrassed now, wondering if she read the situation wrong. "I don't really know what I'm doing. We can stop."
Weakly, he laughed, pressing his forehead into her neck. "Are you trying to turn me on, or are you really that oblivious?"
"Uh," she began. It was weird knowing she affected him that way. Him making her feel like this. Wonderful. Enthralled and unafraid. Like someone unlocked her body and set a live wire to her nerves.
"Never mind," he wrapped his arms around her waist.
#endlessnightlock writes#everlark#katniss everdeen/peeta mellark#everlark drabble#everlark fanfiction
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Can you write something based on Johanna and Peeta's coworkers picking Katniss out of a crowd and telling Peeta he could never pick up her using a cheesy line? Peeta using a cheesy line on Katniss? Not knowing they're together. 😁
“Finnick, there’s no way I’m saying that to her,” Peeta told his cubicle mate as they waited in line at a Starbucks near their office.
“Why the hell not? Are you worried she’ll turn you down? I say you go for it. She’s gorgeous, and totally your type.”
Peeta rolled his eyes. “First, because that’s the lamest pickup line I’ve ever heard. And second, what makes you think you know what my type is? This is the first time we’ve hung out outside of the office.”
Finnick looked between Peeta and their other coworker Johanna and chuckled. “Because every time we’re in a meeting we catch you doodling braids and gray eyes in your notebook. That little cutie over there looks exactly like whatever dream girl you’ve conjured up in your mind.”
Peeta sighed and rubbed his forehead. “And let’s say I did decide to go along with your attempt at publicly humiliating me. What’s in it for me?”
“If she gives you her number, I’ll give you fifty bucks.”
“And if she turns me down?”
Finnick rubbed his hands together, a devious smile on his face. “You do my expense reports for the next two months.”
Johanna nudged Peeta. “What do you have to lose? It’s a good way to make some easy money. Fifty bucks is fifty bucks. Gas is expensive, my dude.”
“Fine,” Peeta grumbled. “I’ll do it. Anything to get you two nutcases to shut up. All I wanted was an iced coffee, not a forced conversation with a girl way out of my league.”
Finnick patted him on the back. “I have faith in you, buddy.”
Peeta snorted and shook his head. “No you don’t. You’re the biggest tightwad I know. You must really think I’ve got no chance with her if you’re offering me that kind of scrilla.”
Finnick’s sea green eyes sparkled mischievously. “Well I guess we’ll find out shortly what the verdict is. Go on, little buddy. Your queen awaits.”
Peeta flipped his coworkers off before trudging dejectedly towards the stunning brunette sitting at a table near the coffee shop’s front window. He took a deep breath on the walk over, giving himself a pep talk in preparation for his come-on.
When she saw him approach, the woman gave him a sweet smile and put down the book she was reading.
“Hello,” she said. “Nice day for a cup of coffee, isn’t it?”
He grinned. “Sure is, baby cakes. Listen, I know this might seem a bit forward, but I saw you sitting here and just had to introduce myself.” He gave her an appreciative once over and added, “I have to say, those short shorts look so good on you, I sure wish I had some butter for them biscuits. Any chance I can get your number? I think I could bake you feel real good.”
Peeta cringed internally as he watched her face go from relaxed to flabbergasted.
But then she surprised him by throwing her head back and laughing, hard. He released a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding when it sank in that he hadn’t completely blown his chance with her.
“Sure,” the woman said, still chuckling. “A guy that can keep a straight face while delivering a baking pun that cheesy deserves a shot. Hell, I’m so turned on right now you can even come to bread with me tonight, if you’d like.”
Peeta was shocked at how quick-witted the woman was. His interest in her increased significantly; he had always found a sense of humor attractive.
“Here,” he said, handing her his phone.
He smiled as he watched her type her phone number into the device, already imagining how he would spend Finnick’s money.
“There you go,” she said. “I’m Katniss, by the way.”
“Peeta. Nice to meet you.”
“You, too,” she replied, smiling. “Text me. I feel like this could be true loaf.”
Peeta laughed, then said his goodbyes to Katniss and walked back over to his coworkers.
A stunned Finnick gaped at him. “I can’t believe that worked. I purposefully picked the worst pickup line I’ve ever heard. Fuck.” He opened his wallet and reluctantly handed Peeta several bills.
“Pleasure doing business with you,” Peeta said, as he pocketed the cash with a grin.
A few minutes later, while the trio walked back to the office, a text notification pinged on Peeta’s phone.
Katniss: They have no idea, do they?
Peeta laughed and typed his reply.
Peeta: That I’ve been happily dating you for the past five years and that we totally just swindled them out of $50? Nope, they’re clueless ;) Nice acting, babe.
Katniss: Sweet! Dough you wanna get down and dirty at my place tonight? I knead you.
Peeta: Oh, hell yea, baby, I’m more than bready for you. Can’t wait to see you rise all night long.
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(Prompt) Everlark + lazy Sunday mornings together 🤍
Hey love, you sent this to me months ago when I asked for prompts and I was just never able to really jump start any of them. Still, I absolutely loved this prompt, so here is a little post Mockingjay fluff with some implied (not shown) smut that I managed to knock out. So I guess rated T+ (ish?) I hope you enjoy it! <3 kdnfb
They woke to the gentle roar of rain on the roof, curtains snapping wetly in the breeze. Both of them would prefer to linger in the warmth of their sheets, the comfort of skin pressed to skin, lazy arcs of thumb over belly and steady exhales sending delicious shivers down spines. But yesterday had been laundry day, and the snapping of fabric wasn’t only the chorus of their curtains, but of their clothes and sheets left hung out on the line yesterday afternoon. They had meant to bring the linens and shirts and her one nice dress back inside near sunset, but other hungers had called and consumed the evening until starlight and sleep turned intentions of finished chores into, “It can wait until morning.”
Only, morning brought rain, a summer shower, though not quite a squall, sweeping over the thriving green mountains, in between cozy homes shut tight against the weather. As Katniss stood at the window, Peeta insisting that the laundry was already soaked, they might as well just leave it be to dry after the storm passed, come back to bed, my love, a hearty breeze splashed cool rain onto her bare skin, whipped one shirt off the line into the next, taking a towel and a bedsheet with it into the mud.
Which is why they found themselves, bare feet slipping and sinking into the mud, laughing with the ducks as they plucked rain refreshed laundry from the line, tossing the sodden clothes into a basket to keep safe from the mud until the winds calmed. The rain soaked them as well, his pajama pants plastered to his legs and his blonde curls half straightened and bedraggled with the water. It dripped from the tips down his face and neck.
His breath caught in his throat as he watched her, laughing and shoving wet bits of braid-escaped hair from her forehead in between laundry rescues, his shirt soaked through and molded to her body. Mud clinging to her ankles and shins like paint. His shirt stopped somewhere mid thighs with her arms down, but each lift of them teased him.
“Come on!” she called to him through the downpour and he shook himself free of the stupor, the enchantment of her laughter’s song, which never failed to make him stop and listen.
A few last items tossed into the basket and Peeta hefted it into his arms, Katniss leaning up against his left side, acting as crutch to prevent his prosthetic from slipping into the mud and causing a tumble. He dropped the basket on their porch as Katniss laughed, breathless and stunning, her shining gray eyes putting the rain soaked sky, churning with clouds, to shame as she wrung water in rivulets from her braid.
Inside, they peeled off the shared pieces of his pajamas and dropped them on the floor, started a fire, commenting on the strangeness of needing a blaze in late June, but the cool rain swept cool breezes through their house and their skin still shivered from their daring laundry rescue. They wrapped themselves in warm towels and blankets, and nibbled on rolls from last night, warmed on the stove.
Then with the rain pattering gently on the roof, they wrapped themselves in the warmth of each other, accepting that tomorrow would bring chores, but they could be lazy today. And as Peeta drew her into his arms, into the after soft kisses and whispers, he smiled at the thought that he never thought a lazy Sunday could leave him quite so breathless.
#words are peetas thing not mine#everlark fanfic#everlark drabble#post mockingjay fluff#and hints at smut#because i just can't help myself
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The ticking of the clock seems to be ten times louder tonight. I fight the urge to grab my bedside lamp and fling it towards its glass surface. It’s done nothing to deserve my fury, and has been serving us well for the past few months, unlike our old clock.
I usually have trouble falling asleep, but tonight it feels like my eyes are incapable of closing.
I turn over to the other side in my bed, hoping to feel more comfortable, but it doesn’t provide that relief. I pull the covers over my head, but it just feels too warm and suffocating in this weather.
Frustrated, I sit up against the bed frame and cross my arms. Maybe I just won’t sleep tonight.
“Katniss…?” Peeta stirs, raising his head from the pillow with half-closed eyes.
“Go back to sleep,” I tell him.
“Did you have a nightmare?” he asks in that sleepy soft voice he always has when he’s just woken up.
“Can’t have nightmares if I can’t sleep,” I say, shrugging. “Peeta, go back to sleep. You have a long day tomorrow.”
Peeta, still half-awake and his hair in a mess, gets up from his bed and shuffles over to mine. He sits on the other side of my bed and leans against the bed frame.
“Come here.”
“Um, it’s okay. I’ll go back to sleep in a minute,” I say, sliding back down onto my pillow and turning my back towards him. My face feels red-hot all of a sudden.
“It’s okay to want me to hold you while you sleep.”
He’s smiling, trying to stifle a laugh. I can hear it.
“Go back to your own bed,” my voice appears muffled in the sheets. “You’re going to push me to the edge of the bed if you keep sitting here.”
My heart leaps when he tucks one arm underneath my side. Before I can even process anything, I’m leaning against him, his heartbeat thumping steadily in my ear.
“Now we both have space.”
I can’t help but feel comforted by the weight of his arm on me. His warmth. It feels safe and cosy, and I don’t feel as vulnerable to the terrors of the night.
“Are you comfortable?” His voice is so gentle. I give a small nod.
“You could have woken me up if you were having trouble sleeping, you know,” he starts caressing my hair ever so gently.
“It’s not the first time anyway,” I mumble, “I’ve always managed it on my own.”
“You don’t have to, Katniss.”
“I’m not going to be that inconsiderate to wake you every night.”
“I want you to be inconsiderate.”
He adjusts my position so that I’m lying on his lap and facing him.
“Okay?” He looks me in the eye when he says this. It takes every ounce of my being to not break eye contact, because the butterflies in my stomach are having the time of their lives in there.
“Yeah, whatever,” I manage to say.
He smiles, seemingly satisfied with my response and closes his eyes.
“Now sleep.”
“You’ll get a sore neck if you sleep like that. I’m okay now, you can - ” I start wiggling out of his grasp, but he stops me.
“I told you, I want you to be inconsiderate. What I want to know is, are you comfortable?”
The truth is, I want to stay like this forever. Being in his arms makes me feel like I can, for once in my life, actually close my eyes without a care in the world. It’s a feeling I never want to let go of.
He seems to be able to read my mind. “If you’re uncomfortable, you can push me away any time. I won’t stop you again.”
I don’t move away, and instead I close my eyes.
He plants a kiss on my forehead and whispers, “Good night, Katniss.”
I’ll only be inconsiderate this time.
#weekly drabble eh hehehehe#everlark#everlark fanfiction#katniss and peeta#katniss everdeen#peeta mellark#the hunger games#everlark drabble#thg fanfiction#peeta x katniss
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Heyy 😊, maybe it's too much but I think these would go well together for everlark
your fingers slowly running through their hair
+
their face buried in your chest
+
patiently hearing them venting out their frustration and tiredness of the busy day
AND IT ALL HURTS (BUT IT’S FINE)
cw: none!
ᨒ↟↟ᨒ↟ᨒ↟↟ᨒ
Katniss realises there's something wrong with Peeta the moment he steps through the door.
Shoulders slumped, blonde hair messy, he shuffles into the living room and offers her a halfhearted smile.
"Hey, sweetheart."
He sounds exhausted, overwhelmed, and his voice cracks horribly when his eyes meet hers.
"Hey."
Katniss reaches out to him from her place on the couch and tugs him down on top of her when he places his hand in hers. The boy goes willingly, holding himself a little upright as to not crush her under his weight until Katniss pinches his side.
"Come closer?” It’s tentatively spoken.
Peeta hesistates. “I don’t want to smother you.”
“I’d like to see you try.”
The boy huffs a laugh at this but obliges. Leaning down more heavily until his head is tucked into the valley between her neck and her shoulder and his arms are wrapped around Katniss's frame. He takes a deep breath as the girl starts to rubs his back tenderly. His breathes slowly against her skin, nose nestled against her pulse.
Under her ministrations, Peeta admits, "Today was hard."
And Peeta hasn’t been one for brokenhearted confessions for a while now, so when this one leaves his lips, Katniss has to swallow her surprise.
"Would you like to talk about it?"
He shudders almost imperceptibly in her arms so Katniss raises her hands from his back to card through his hair calmingly. Letting his loose curls spool around her fingers as he sags against her.
“Take your time.”
(To anyone else, the softness with which speaks would sound near foreign, but she hopes that to her boy it sounds like comfort and home.)
Slowly, quietly, after a while of them lying there, Peeta begins to speak.
"I wanted to make a special recipe my dad taught me when I was younger. I've been meaning to for a while now. I thought it would be a new specialty at the bakery,” his voice is muffled in her cardigan. “We used to make it together all the time. Just the two of us.”
Katniss hums gently, encouraging him to go on.
"I even called Delly over so I could teach her it. I was so sure I'd be able to make it-“
He cuts himself off, swallowing deeply and going quiet again for a while. Katniss lets him gather his thoughts. Pressing sweet kisses to the crown of his head.
When he speaks again, Peeta sounds devastated.
"I couldn't remember.”
Katniss's hands don't stop carding through his hair. Peeta’s arms tremble around her waist.
“I couldn’t- fuck, Katniss, I laid out all the ingredients and then realised I didn’t know what the steps were.”
His voice cracks, and Katniss wants so desperately to be able to see his face, but he keeps it firmly tucked away from her. Reluctant to let her see him hurting.
“I was so embarrassed, Kat. And Delly didn’t mind because she’s Delly and she’s my friend, but I was so upset about it. I still am.”
He takes a teary breath in. "I'm so angry with myself. Because I should be better now, right? They said I would be. I should be remembering more things by now.” Then, quieter.
"Why can't I remember?"
Peeta’s upset is an knife to Katniss’s stomach.
“I’ve lost one of the only things I had left of him.”
Katniss’s hands do stop then, moving so that she can cup them around his face and tilt it upwards. Peeta lifts his head from her chest and allows her to do so, pliant under her touch.
Their eyes meet and Katniss’s heart tightens painfully in her chest.
“You haven’t lost him, Peeta.” She thumbs his cheekbone carefully, wiping at the mess of tears gathering there. “You’ve just forgotten. And it’s painful and it hurts, but you’ll get it all back in time. Your memories won’t stay taken forever.”
When Peeta doesn’t speak, Katniss continues.
“And besides, you carry on his legacy every day, Peeta. You rebuilt the bakery. You cherish the recipes he taught you. You are kind and you care for your customers like you told me he did.”
The boy leans back from her more fully and Katniss follows him up so that they’re sitting on the couch facing each other. Her legs thrown over his, chests only a few inches apart. She taps his heart, once twice.
“You carry him here, Peeta. Forgetting one recipe won’t change that.”
Peeta nods like he doesn’t quite believe her yet, but will in time. When Katniss shuffles closer to press her lips against his forehead, he doesn’t pull away.
“I’m sorry for being such a mess,” his voice come out low, ragged.
“Don’t be.” Katniss brushes his tears away with her fingertips. “I always want to hear about your day. Regardless of whether it was good or bad. We can try to make your recipe again tomorrow if you’d like.” she offers him a smile.
“Yeah, I think I’d like that.”
Peeta smiles back at her. A proper smile for the first time this evening. And it’s little dim at the edges, reminding Katniss of clouds when they obscure the sun ever so slightly. But it’s a smile nonetheless and so she takes it with open arms.
#the hunger games fic#everlark#everlark drabble#thg#thg fics#everlark fanfiction#katniss everdeen#peeta mellark#everlark angst#everlark hurt/comfort
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