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avoxrising · 4 months

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The Feral One • Ch 30

Finnick x Y/N

Series Masterlist Link

I can’t believe this is the last chapter 😭 Enjoy!

Content Warnings - none :)

On the one year anniversary of Snow’s death, aka Freedom Day, you married Finnick for real. He had proposed to you in your garden a few weeks after you’d returned home from the capital. You said yes of course.

Your friends traveled from all over Panem to witness your real special day. Katniss and Peeta (who were on good terms but not quite dating yet) took the train from 12, dragging a not so sober Haymitch along with them. Beetee, who is now living in the capital as Panem’s head of military technology, arrived along with Effie and Tigris. Finally, Johanna arrived a few days early from 7 to spend some extra time with Annie (much to Mags’ delight).

Mags, Annie, and Jo had decided that wedding planning was their new favorite activity and planned the whole thing for you and Finnick. They even arranged for Peeta to make and decorate the cake again. Tigris designed your dress and Effie helped with the makeup.

Everything was perfect. Finnick had suggested that Mags officiate the wedding because in District 4, it’s tradition to have the elder of the family perform the ceremony. Although neither you nor Finnick had any living relatives, Mags was a mother figure to both of you.

The ceremony commenced half an hour before the sun was set to disappear over the waters. Beetee had designed cool contacts for everyone so they could watch the sunset behind you and Finnick without going blind.

District 4’s wedding march boomed out over the ceremony as a group of local children played it on their hand drums. Your dress flows beautifully behind you as you walk your bare feet down the sandy aisle, without the assistance of anyone else.

You catch Finnick’s eyes as you approach him and Mags. He’s standing there in awe of you as he wears somewhat casual dress pants and a flowy button down shirt. Mags signals for the children to stop drumming when you reach Finnick.

Mags pulls out a net, handwoven by herself, to drape over you and Finnick. Finnick has to help her a bit due to her height but eventually you’re both caught under the net. Mags proceeds to sign the ceremony dialogue as the net rests over both of you.

When she finishes the formalities, she has Finnick lift the net off and wrap it around your shoulders, securing it so it doesn’t slip while still allowing your arms to move freely.

You take the bowl of salt water from Mags and dip your fingers in it before gently gliding them over Finnick’s lips. He then takes the bowl from you and traces your lips, leaving saltwater in the wake of his fingers.

This is where District 4 does the vows. You both do your best to convey in words your love for each other but words can’t possibly describe the depth of your love.

Finally, your love is sealed in a salty kiss. Nothing else matters in this moment; not the watching crowd, not the scars of your own battles, nor the pain you had endured. Your life was complete as long as he was in it.

To everyone else, you’re a survivor, a human, a warrior. To yourself, you’re healing, you’re safe, you’re loved. To him, you’re everything.

The epilogue will be out sometime soonish (I still haven’t finished it lol but I promise I’m working on it).

Taglist:

@randomgurl2326 @mystargirl-interlude @uther-pendragon-is-an-ass @yourdailymemedelivery @americanprometheuss @|3хі3luv @noisyalmonddreamer @nordicvxid @teaganthemorningstar @samatokisunfinishedcigarette @justtrying2getby @lvsticm @notplutos @innercreationflower @nexxus13 @kachelleee @helluvafire @haymitchabernathyslover @memeorydotcom @frostsword @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @giverosespls @honethatty12 @just-levyy @dd122004dd @nekee-lilac02 @impeterporker @nox-the-gay-nerd @redsakura101 @hopefulatrocity @eddiemunson4ever @fangirlvibez @kittimbo @zucchinimalfoy @sleepy-roman @secretsicanthideanymore @writerofadream @finnysmusic @mayonesavegana @lilifl0wer @finnickodaddy @abbersreads @fox-bee926 @ginger-swag-rapunzel @isasalom @yizhoutv @livingdead-reilly @coriolanussnowswife @faephoria @omwtkydttfym @iris1587 @sarcasm-and-stiles @10ava01 @impossessedbyjeongyeon @littleanubis21 @scorpiolystoned @maxinehufflepuffprincess

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#hunger games #finnick odair #hunger games fic #the hunger games #finnick odair x reader #finnick x reader #finnick odair x you #finnick x y/n #finnick fluff #thg finnick #finnick odair fluff #the feral one

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rose-pearls · 5 months

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Watching you go - Part 11

Here is the new part!! It took some time but it's here and I hope you like it!

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187, @nyx2021, @thestarspangledcaptain, @kmc1989 (open for everyone)

Series taglist: @wannapizzamymindposts, @experiencebeinanamericanwhOre, @capswife, @star-of-velaris, @simpinformunson, @nobody7102, @r1dd1kulus, @primscat, @fishfetus, @jellybear455, @ghostieraccoons, @inky-sun, @happinessinthebeing, @magical-spit, @mrsjna, @whats-that26, @fluffybunnyu, @jdbxws, @yazminetrahan, @pillowjj, @v4mpygoth (open)

Previous Part - Next Part

The sun had been shining for the past few days and you couldn’t stop smiling. The whole district seemed happier when the sun came out, which helped with the underlying tensions that always seemed to be in district twelve.

“Alright, I need your honest opinion.”, you hear Peeta say as he comes out of the bakery, the back door closing behind him.

“I promise.”, you tell him, and he smiles shily before showing you a small cake with a large scoop of frosting on it and some decorations.

“Peeta, it’s beautiful.”, you can’t help but whisper as you look at all of the small details, the flowers and the greenery. The boy seems unsure at your words, but you smile brightly, making him sit down next to you.

“Thank you, it’s a test. If they sell out at the end of the day my mother has said they will be a weekly occurrence.”, he seems nervous at the prospect, so you take his hand in yours, squeezing it in reassurance.

“I’m sure people will be rushing in to buy them.”, you tell him and Peeta smiles softly at you, that now familiar look in his eyes, full of love.

It had taken some time to get there, mainly you thinking that Peeta was in love with Katniss and the boy proving you wrong every step of the way. He had been looking at you like you were the somehow the best thing that happened to him and you looked at him the same way.

You never thought of Katniss and Peeta again, until they went into the games and suddenly there was third person in your relationship. Or so you thought, it seemed as if now you were the person too much in the relationship and not Katniss.

You couldn’t breathe, it was like someone had their hands wrapped around your throat, tears brimming in your eyes.

“Hey, kid, focus!”, you hear Haymitch say, and you take a shaky breath, holding onto his arm and trying to keep your beathing at a normal pace.

He takes your hand and puts it over his heart, making you take deep breaths with him and after a moment you finally manage it, tears sliding down your cheeks.

“What happened?”, he asks softly as you fall against the wall, your legs close to you as if they could protect you from the harsh reality.

“I can’t – I”, he nods quietly, as if understanding that you couldn’t explain it.

“It was the sight of them, right?”, Haymitch asks after a moment and you look at him, with the same blue-grey eyes.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know the girl was there.”, he says, and you simply shake your head, it wasn’t his fault.

“It’s a shitty feeling, right? Seeing the person, you like falling in love with someone else.”, you look at him with questioning eyes, he looked cynic, but there was sadness in his eyes.

“Are you talking about my mum?”, you ask him quietly, you hadn’t approached the subject with him but maybe you needed to talk about it.

“No, it wasn’t her.”, he says softly, and you look at him for a moment before you remember something.

“You really are like Haymitch.”, Johanna had whispered in the hospital, a soft smile on her lips.

“Johanna.”, you say and for the first time you see him flinch in response.

“How do you know?”, he asks, eyes wide as if you had just discovered his darkest secret.

“I was wondering how Peeta was, and she said that I was just like you, more busy worrying about others then myself.”, he closes his eyes like it’s painful.

“What happened?”, you ask softly and Haymitch lets out a sigh.

“It’s nothing compared to your love story with lover boy there.”, Haymitch says, and you know that he is trying to avoid the topic, you did the same thing.

“Every story is different, doesn’t make it less important.”, you tell him softly and he chuckles before looking at his hands that are wringing his beanie.

“When Johanna got out of the arena, she had no one, her mentors didn’t help her, so I took her under my wing. She was the first person to tell me my four truths to my face, the rest had always been too scared.”, you couldn’t help but chuckle at the image of an angry Johanna spewing words at him.

“Yeah, she was real fun back then. But little by little she started opening up and so did I, we told each other practically everything without even realizing it. She reminded me of my first girlfriend and slowly I started falling for her.”, there is a sad smile on his lips at the words and you take his hand in yours.

“She never felt the same, she was in love with Finnick. The boy had taken some time to realize how amazing she was but once he did, he finally saw what was in front of him and he took the chance I never had.”, there are tears shimmering in his eyes and you squeeze his hand.

“Why didn’t you tell her?”, you ask him softly.

“Because she deserved better than an old drunk like me. Plus, she was never really interested, she always had eyes for Finnick.”, he whispers, and you feel frustrated at his negative thoughts.

“You are far more than an old drunk.”, you tell him and your father scoffs at your words, but you shake your head.

“You won the 50th Hunger Games and had to go to every game after that, that is not something a coward would be able to do. Sure, you may have a drinking problem but, in the end, you were always there for the people who needed you, Katniss, Peeta, Johanna and me. You are insanely smart and cunning you just need to believe in yourself again, don’t let Snow win in making you believe that you are useless.”, he is looking at you with teary eyes, but you can’t stop yourself.

“And you are my goddamn dad, whether it was planned or not you are, and I will not let you bring yourself down. Never let anyone make you feel insecure about yourself, you deserve so much. And if that person doesn’t realize how amazing and wonderful you are then it’s her loss.”, you tell him and after a moment you think of your words, the words that you should also be telling yourself.

Peeta wasn’t in love with you anymore, no matter how much you would try to ignore it and push everything aside. He wasn’t the sweet boy you had met at the bakery, the both of you had changed whether you wanted to or not.

“I think I need to do something.”, you whisper and Haymitch nods in reassurance, there is that knowing glint in his eyes that tells you he already knows what you are going to do.

“I’m here if you need a pep talk or just someone to be with.”, he tells you and you nod in response. He smiles softly at you before kissing your forehead.

“Thanks for the pep talk sweetheart.”, he whispers, and you smile at him.

“Anytime you need it.”, he nods in response before leaving you in the hallway, thinking over what you were going to say.

He looks surprised to see you there, his blue eyes wide open but there is a familiar smile that appears.

“Hi.”, you say, unable to move from the door and Peeta nods in response, like he is unable to say something at the moment.

“How are you doing?”, you ask him as you manage to make your feet move towards the end of his bed and you sit down at his feet.

“The doctors say that I’m doing better, some memories come back, and others don’t.”, he looks unsure at the end, like he doesn’t know if he should say it or not, but you simply nod.

“You can tell me that you don’t remember us, I won’t get mad.”, you tell him softly and he looks at his hands for a moment, fiddling with his bedsheet, he always used to do that when he was nervous.

“How are you doing?”, he asks, his blue eyes meeting yours and you smile, trying to reassure him.

“I’m fine, the doctor told me that I could leave the medical ward and that Johanna should check on my wounds.”, you tell him, and he snorts softly.

“Better be careful with Johanna.”, he says teasingly, and you laugh at the words.

“She’s alright, she was actually the first person I saw when I woke up and she didn’t immediately start yelling around.”, the boy laughs at your words and there is a silence that follows your words. For the first time in a long time, you don’t know how to fill it.

“You like her, Katniss.”, you say after a moment and Peeta looks at you with wide eyes but before he can say anything you start talking.

“I know you do; I recognize the look in your eyes. You used to look at me with that look.”, you tell him, and he seems ashamed of the words.

“I’m sorry.”, he whispers, and you let out a shaky breath.

“It’s not your fault. The worst part is that the both of us haven’t had a say or do in this.”, he looks at you with sad blue eyes and you look at him with tears welling up in your eyes.

“I’ve loved you since I was a little girl and I saw you behind your father’s legs. But we aren’t the same people we were before you got reaped, we tried to make it work but it didn’t in the end.”, you say, your breath shaky as you talk and Peeta takes a deep breath.

“It’s not your fault, I want you to remember that. You didn’t have any control in what happened in the Capitol and even before you got captured it was not perfect.”, you tell him as the blond boy closes his eyes.

“I will always love you, some part of me always will and I will always cherish the moments that we had together, but we can’t keep pretending that all of this didn’t happen.”, Peeta seems pained at the words, and you feel sick at the thought of hurting him.

“I have to choose myself and give you the chance to discover everything again without me holding you back. That doesn’t mean that I’m giving up on you, I’ll always be there for you, but this is me choosing myself for once.”, you tell him, and he nods in understanding.

“You’re right. I was scared to hurt you, but we should’ve done this sooner.”, he says, and the words hurt more than any wound you could ever get physically.

“Don’t be a stranger Mellark.”, you whisper softly and Peeta smiles sadly.

“Don’t be a stranger either Abernathy.”, he whispers, and you shake your head, promising yourself that you would be there for him.

“Goodnight Peeta.”, he whispers goodnight back and you get off the bed, walking towards the door feeling like you are losing a piece of yourself.

And as you close the door behind you, the tears fall down your cheeks and you feel like someone has ripped a part of your body off.

You feel arms wrap themselves around your body and you get ready to push the person off until you recognize the pine smell that Johanna always carried with her, and you just fall in her arms sobbing.

“Haymitch told me you would need me.”, she whispers, and you hold her tighter, sobs leaving your lips.

“It’s okay I’m right here, I’m not leaving.”, she whispers, and you close your eyes, wishing for the memories of the blond boy to disappear but they just flash in front of your eyes.

You don’t realize that at the same time the boy with the bread is watching the door with tears streaming down his cheeks, memories coming back one by one.

#hunger games fanfiction #the hunger games #hunger games x reader #the hunger games peeta #peeta mellark x reader #peeta x reader #peeta imagine #peeta mellark #i love peeta

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littlemarianah · 20 days

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WIP

How Katniss and Peeta chose their children's names

prologue of my fanfic in progress about Katniss motherhood. "The Flower and the Willow"

_________________________________________

My name is Katniss Everdeen.

My parents named me after a long-stemmed flower that grow on the edge of lakes. You will never starve if you find one of them. Its roots are sweet and juicy like a potato. The delicate and small white petals contrast with its arrow-pointed leaves.

My sister got her name from the Primrose flower. Different from katniss flower, primroses are everywhere. It has small petals, but its vibrant colors make it stand out among the undergrowth.

They chose beautiful names to decorate us with.

Beautiful things like the songs my father sang before I went to sleep.

Beautiful things like the colorful dresses my mother wore on Sundays.

Things that keep ourselves alive.

When my father stopped singing my mother stopped wearing her dresses. And then it was like she was dead too. That's when I realized that those things made us live.

Without the laughter, without the songs, without the hugs that my father gave me covered in dust from the mines, without the dresses, without the beautiful braids that my mother gave me and Prim. Without anything beautiful, without anything happy. We had nothing but hunger, cold and misery.

Peeta's parents had a similar idea. They chose their children's names from bread. Peeta, for a wheat bread that's as thin as a sheet and hollow inside. Rye, for a bread made with rye flour and very soft. Bran, for bread made with bran and molasses. Sweet in taste and brown in color.

It was kind of funny for a family of bakers to take their children's names from a cookbook, but they followed the same logic as my parents. Naming their children after the only thing that keep them together: work.

In the Mellark household no one had an empty stomach, but everyone woke up before sunrise to grind the wheat, sift the flour and heat the wood fire and work until night fell. Peeta once told me he never thought he would be the one to run the bakery. Her parents decided to have children to pass on the business to when they got old. The first was planned. The second was accidental, but useful in a world where your son could always go to games. The third was unwanted, but at least one more hand to work with.

Until shortly before giving birth I didn't know what name to choose. Peeta said he wanted me to decide, but nothing felt good enough. When I discovered I was a girl I started singing the lullabies my father always sang. I hummed them when I helped Peeta knead bread in the morning, I whistled them when I walked through the forest. Every time my head was empty, some new song came back to the surface. One day I found myself singing an old song that I had forgotten for a long time.

Deep in the meadow

Under the willow

A bed of grass, a soft green pillow

For so many years I even banned myself from humming its melody, I preferred it to disappear from my memory completely.

All the little girls I had sung that song to were dead. But I got pregnant and I couldn't stop it anymore. It was a girl, I would have a daughter. Even with the horrible pain in my chest I wanted her to hear that song.

Here your dreams are sweet

And tomorrow brings them true

Here is the place where I love you

Deep in the meadow

Hidden far away

I chose Willow after that in honor of the willow tree in the song. Peeta liked it.

Two years later when I got pregnant with my second I gave Peeta a taste of his own medicine and made sure he chose the name. He spent hours listing names for me, looking for inspiration in books, names of important people. Until one day he put down the history books and picked up a recipe book. He flipped through the pages... sponge cake, carrot cake, cinnamon rolls... as if it was the first time he was reading it.

Even the recipes he made every day, like wheat bread from the bakery, he read again. He said he would wait until the baby was born to finally choose a name, but I had the impression he already had some ideas in mind. When Peeta took our boy in his arms he said he saw his brother Rye's eyes on him.

So, following the tradition of our families, our children's names are in honor of what is important to us.

Rye, a bread to satisfy our hunger.

Willow, a tree from an old song.

#WIP #the flower and the willow #the hunger games #thg #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #everlark #fanfic #willow mellark #rye mellark #prologue #looking forward to posting this fanfic #some days who knows

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goldenchunkycat · 1 year

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Certain things can't be overcome, you just have to learn how to live with it...

- Pairing: Peeta Mellark x Therapist!Reader - Summary: Even if he loves you, even if you love him, her memory won't let you have a happy ending.

Warnings: Mention of trauma, PTSD, requited love but unrequited love too ? it's complicated, hurt and comfort ? -

A/N: I just finished watching Hunger Games and boyyy, Peeta deserved better. Like, fight me idc, he's the sweetest ever, must protect. Feedback and comments are appreciated ♡

"What do you remember, Peeta ?"

"Blood. Screams. Lots of screams."

"What period of your life are you talking about?"

"My teenage years? The games, I think. There was a lot of death. S-so much death…"

"It's okay Peeta, you're safe now."

"Am I..?"

"Of course you are. Look around you. Tell me three things that you can see."

"You. A vase and...a cat."

"Three things that you can hear."

"Your voice, the birds and a kettle."

"You're doing good Peeta. Now three things that you can smell ?"

"Your fragrance, bread and lavender."

"Excellent. See ? There's nothing here which can harm you. Well except for Mittens but I swear that he's a good companion. Hold on I'll be back in a few seconds."

Peeta watched you get up from your seat and walk to the kitchen, a smile on your face. He loved to see you smile. You were so pretty when you smiled.

"Peeta ! Would you like some tea ?"

The boy smiled to himself and answered "Yes !" before taking a look at his surroundings, noticing once again the cozy decorations which made your house look cozy. He has been there so many time that he could tell what and where were the objects in the room with his eyes closed.

"Here. I brought us some of the bread that you gave me. What do you think about Camomille tea ?"

"Sounds perfect, thank you."

A comfortable silence took over the room, the sound of water filling glasses and birds singing outside adding to the serenity Peeta felt. He wasn't used to feeling like this. So…peaceful. He only felt that way when he was in this room. No. When he was with you. But every time he questioned his feelings for you, a name kept coming to his mind.

"Katniss."

"Yeah ? What can you tell me about her ?" you got comfortable in your seat, crossing you legs and taking a sip of your tea.

"She was a mutt- No. She was my first love. She's the… the Mockingjay. Katniss Everdeen, tribute of District Twelve." Peeta murmured, his gaze growing distant as the words left his mouth. And yet, he continued to speak, trying to make an effort but… "She is the reason for the war. The reason why- why all those people- Argh!" the young man shouted and stood up, grabbing his hair and walking at an increasing pace around the room. "My name is Peeta Mellark and I'm from District 12. My name is…"

"Peeta Mellark and you're a baker in Senew."

"Katniss-"

"Left to live her life in the forest."

"You're lying!" he approached you with long strides, pointing an accusing finger at your face.

You put your cup down and sat up straight, shrinking into your seat so that Peeta wouldn't perceive you as a threat. "No Peeta. I am not. All of this. What they said, what they did to you, it's all gone." you added in a soft voice, in an effort to get him through this post-traumatic episode as calmly as possible.

"Is- is it..?" he asked with a quivering voice, falling on his knee just in front of you.

You reached out to him, hesitated, and then brought your hand back to you. He was your patient, he needed a professional, not physical affection. "It's all gone. You've lived here since the end of the rebellion, you said you always wanted to be a baker who could help anyone in need. Everyone loves your food, people come from everywhere to get a piece of cake."

"Yeah, I always wanted to be a baker…" he whispered. He inhaled deeply, trying to regulate his breathing, but judging by the trembling of his hands you knew he was about to give in. "Why… Why can't I just overcome it ? All of this, the nightmares, the screams, the memories. Her…" he sobbed, resting his head on your legs as he hid his face. He didn't want you to see him in such a pitiful state.

"Certain things can't be overcome, you just have to learn how to live with it. You do things that you like, meet people that you love, eat what you enjoy the most. You live your daily life and hope that the pain will go away, you change your mind and try to not think about the things that you lost. You learn everything again. Yo take baby step."

"Did you- did you do all of this..?"

"Yes, yes I did…" your voice broke a little but you tried to keep a strong exterior for Peeta, you had to be the one to console him, not the other way around. "We all suffered from what happened two years ago. We all have lost loved ones. Sometimes their presence lingers in the air. You think you hear them, you hear them laugh. But it's just a memory, something your mind made up to make you feel better…"

"I listen to the laughs of someone that I like. I watch him smile. He's just right there in front of me, it's enough. I remember that I'm not alone, I'm not the only one who suffered, we all are here for each other, to help, protect and provide."

"Sometimes I- I hear a laugh. A woman's laugh. I see the glimpse of her smile and I feel the stroke of her hands on my hair. And- It feels so real."

"Does it ?"

"Yeah."

"Isn't it just a memory ?"

"No. It's real. You're real."

"Peeta..."

"I'm so sorry, you deserve so much better than a guy with a bunch of traumas who can't forget about his first love."

"You-" you burst into tears. How could you be the therapist here when this man, this precious, kind and lovable man was degrading himself for others mistakes. When the man that you secretly loved was telling you that his heart could never truly belongs to you ? "You are so much more, Peeta, so much more."

#hunger games #peeta mellark #peeta x reader #peeta mellark x reader #hunger games imagine #peeta mellark imagine #x reader #angst #the hunger games

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lemonluvgirl · 10 months

Note

Hugs! I think you’re great!!

You’re being hard on yourself, but your writing has brought me and others so much joy!!

Go reread your favorite fic you’ve written or sit down and write a fun piece of smut as a treat. 😘

Dear Anon, this sweet post completely inspired me to write this:

If someone had asked me to pinpoint the moment it happened, I couldn’t say.

All I know is that we went into the woods as two survivors who had lost practically everything, except the will to live.

I taught him how to fish, and hunt, and gather plants.

He taught me how to thatch the roof of the bombed out old house by the lake and how to seal the cracks in the windowsills, and how to shape clay and bake it into usable things. Like bowls and cups.

We taught each other how to carry on, and it was easier to face the silence, and the emptiness when you knew there was someone else facing it with you.

Those first few months were grueling. It was a race against time to load up on as much game and edibles as we could.

I had to build additional meat drying racks and Peeta had to build a smoker for all the fish we caught.

There was so much work, so much to do. I was the the more knowledgeable of the two of us. So I thought it was my responsibility to make sure we were prepared, ready for anything. I was gruff with him at first. All business and extremely irritable. He never took it personally. In fact he seemed to take it instride. He was good at turning things around. Seeing opportunities where at frist glance I saw problems.

Over time we started to do better, and we got along. We worked together as a team and found solutions to problems I never could have fixed on my own. It started to get easier, and when that happened, it was easy to forget about everything else.

Still, touching never came easy to me.

Not after everything I had lost.

So even though I felt like after two months I could name the number of freckles on Peeta’s face because his was the only face I stared at day after day, that didn’t mean I wanted to touch him.

Or him to touch me.

The only exception was when one of us was hurt.

Which happened with unavoidable frequency.

Cuts and scrapes and burns and insect bites had to be cleaned, and closely monitored. Infection was always a danger, even more so in the wild where treatments were few and far between.

I cleaned any wounds he couldn’t reach and he did the same for me.

His hands were so much bigger than mine. Calloused but warm everytime. He always gently bandaged me up and applied salve with a the lightest touch of his fingertip.

So featherlight I almost didn’t feel it.

I asked him once, how he had gotten his light touch and that night he explained about how he used to decorate the cakes at the bakery.

The sad, wistful smile and the suspicious sheen in his eye was enough to have me hurrying to close down the conversation.

Talking about the past never led anywhere good.

So I guess in all honestly there were two things I wasn’t very good at. Touching, and talking.

That first winter came and went and we scraped by.

It was uncomfortable being cooped up for long stretches of time, but we made do.

When lake thawed, and the snow melted, and all the world came alive again we were a few pounds lighter, and a few shades paler, but not much worse for wear.

Peeta immediately started building back up our woodpile, now that it was possible to spend longer amounts of time outside without freezing the tip of your nose off.

He started making plans to build more shelves inside the house so we could store more dried meat and food.

“Come next winter, we’ll be better prepared.” He said with determination.

I didn’t argue with him. Or tell him how I was used to losing much more weight in the winter time back when I lived in the Seam.

Spring, real spring made itself known a few weeks later. With soft showers springling over the earth and tender shoots bursting out of the ground, seaking the sun that had come out to play once more.

Giving life and ligh to a world that had had enough darkness for a season.

When the rains let up, I tugged Peeta out of doors with a grass-woven basket in hand and told him to gather up every dandelion and borage and wild bit of lavender he could find. And then I taught him that you could eat them.

Summer followed spring and brought a heat that was perfect for swimming.

Peeta admitted shyly that he didn’t know how to swim. So I spent the summer teaching him.

Long afternoons floating under the hot sun lead to a deep tan for me and a moderate sunburn for him.

I had to apply salve on the back of his neck, his shoulders, and the tips of his ears.

It wasn’t quite as difficult as I thought it would be.

In the fall season, at summer’s end, when the cold air blowing down from the mountains hit the still-warm water of the lake, a steamy fog would rise across the surface of the water. Enveloping the ground in a hazy mist.

It was easy to imagine we were the only two people left in the world on days like that. Maybe we were. The only thing we really knew for sure was there was no home to go back to. All we had was what was ahead of us and what we built for ourselves with our own two hands.

Every morning, no matter the weather, Peeta would go outside to check on the supplies, and if the woodpile were low, he’d set to work filling it up again.

I would watch him from the one intact window of the lake house as I sipped mint tea from a rough-hewn mug he had made for me out of clay. I’d watch him from the window, the only one we hadn’t boarded up in preparation for winter, and I’d hum quietly to myself, something with no words and no set melody. Just whatever came to me.

Peeta’s feet would be swallowed up by the mist and sometimes, depending on the thickness of the fog, his upper legs and hips would be too.

But not his torso. Or his arms. Or his face. Those were still visible. And my eyes would trace the way the fabric of his shirt stretched across his broad back. How his arms would smoothly and effortlessly swing the axe down. How sweat would dampen his collar and the ash-blond waves would stick to his forehead.

He made quick work of the wood most days.

He had strength in his hands. The kind that could inflict real damage if he were ever inclined. But I knew his heart was not inclined towards cruelty or shows of strength for showing off’s sake.

As much as he liked to joke, and play, Peeta was an introspective kind of soul. He had unspoken principles that he exuded. Things he never talked about but lived by just the same. He made them known in the way he spoke, in the way he walked, worked, and above all, in the way he cared.

For everything. For the house, and the things we filled it with. For the food and supplies we gathered. For the lake, the plants, and even the animals.

Everything had a place and a purpose and he learned how to live off the land with a quiet kind of enthusiasm and respect that surprised me. I had not expected him to adapt half as well as he did, and certainly not as quickly.

But after a few months, Peeta started to thrive.

He didn’t complain about the hard work, or the inconvenience, or the solitude.

He got up every morning and stepped outside the door and took a few seconds to just breathe.

And in those five seconds, he looked freer than I had ever felt in my entire life. And then he was ready to go. Ready for any task, any trek, any objective.

Except walking quietly. That was the one beginner skill he never seemed to master no matter how much he tried. But it was ok. I’m better at hunting anyway.

It was hard not to resent him just a little bit for enjoying the wilderness maybe even more than I did. Which was ridiculous, but I had a long history with these woods, and by all accounts, Peeta had grown up his whole life in town. It shouldn’t have been so easy for him.

And maybe I felt a little territorial at first. The woods were supposed to be my thing. My place. My sanctuary.

The woods had given me joy and adventure when I was a child. They had given me life when I was a young starving adolescent. And now that I returned to them a grown woman they were no less harsh or dangerous. But they were still stunning. They were still the place where I felt I could best be myself. Where I could drink in the clean air and expel any worry that didn’t have to do with hunting or foraging. Or making sure Peeta didn’t wander too far from camp when he went in search of new colors for his homemade inks.

I learned little by little to share the woods with him, in all their grandeur, in the same way, my father once shared them with me.

And in the quiet hours of the morning, I could get away with just watching him bask in their natural brilliance for a few minutes. Uninterrupted. Without self-consciousness creeping in because he was always too absorbed to notice.

So I was free to notice things about him.

Like how there seemed to be entire worlds hidden away inside of him. His eyes would take on a special look of focus when he examined a plant, or when he looked at a bird, or a rock, that I could spend hours trying to analyze, but never figure out.

Or how sometimes the autumn sunset would hit his hair just right and for a second it would look softly dazzling, with warm colors like a fading fire.

Or how when the weather was clear and the sky was cloudless, the lake would look like a pristine jewel so untouched and startlingly blue that the only thing more beautiful was the way it was almost an exact match for the shade of Peeta’s eyes.

Or how all the world was quiet when I watched his strong gentle hands at work. Chopping wood. Setting a fishing line. Hanging up herbs to dry. Painting spots of color on the back wall.

All the world felt new when I looked into his eyes.

And here, in the fierce wilderness where my father taught me to love the plants and the trees and every growing thing, I started to love the thing growing silently, steadily, between Peeta and me.

The night was full.

Full of the deep dark quiet that fell over everything that needed to sleep when the sun went down.

Full of the night time symphony of the wide wild woods we called home.

Bull frogs croaked, crickets chirped, owls hooted. And in the distance, wolves or wild dogs howled.

Peeta always made sure we had enough wood to feed the fire the whole night and I always made sure that the lantern was ready.

We kept the door barred, to keep out any unwanted predators.

But the only thing we couldn’t keep out completely was the dreams.

Dreams of a different life, full of the song of different voices, different faces, and life long since past. When I dreamed those kinds of dreams I often couldn’t fall back asleep. I knew Peeta had dreams like that too but after he tried to talk about it once, we got into such a big fight that he never brought it up again.

So, yes, the nights were full. But often they left me feeling empty.

He stopped pretending to sleep through my nightmares during that second winter. He started waking me before they could go on too long. Often he wouldn’t say anything, as he looked down at me, he’d just heave this big breath, like there was so much he could say, or maybe wanted to, but he wasn’t sure if I wanted to hear him say it. So he just stayed quiet. Propped his back up against the wall next to my sleeping pallet and just stayed. Watching over me.

I allowed myself to be sleepy, to let the exhaustion take over when he was near. I rested my head on his shoulder. Folded the old threadbare blanket I had salvaged from my old home over our legs, and closed my eyes.

The dark didn’t seem so dark and the nightmares didn’t feel so inescapable when he stayed with me.

We traded stories of our childhoods, never naming names but we both knew who they were about.

His favorite was the one I told him about two sisters who loved each other beyond measure and how they found ways to make each other smile no matter how poor they grew. He said he admired how tirelessly the older sister worked to provide for the younger, even going so far as to use her money from the first buck she ever shot, to buy her younger sister a goat for her birthday.

“Was the goat still wearing the pink ribbon?” He asked when I told him about how the younger sister used her healing knowledge and her goodness to bring the goat back from the brink of death.

“I think so.” I answer. “Why?” I ask, curious.

“Just trying to get an accurate picture.” He says.

He tells me stories about a little boy who grew up with two older brothers, who were always pulling pranks and getting into scrapes. He talks about how the little boy loved painting and art but hardly found the time or the materials to practice except on special occasions when someone would order a fancy cake from the family’s bakery.

Then the world would come alive for the little boy, who reshaped it into something beautiful with tiny images created out of sugar and fondant and food coloring.

But he had to be very careful not to waste ingredients or the fire-breathing she-dragon who ruled the kitchen would punish him for being wasteful. Often giving him only the stalest bread, the kind that was practically moldy, to eat.

“I always wondered if you ate cake and cookies everyday.” I admitted quietly, after his story was done.

“Oh, no.” He says, stifling a yawn. It’s late, and we’ve stayed up longer than usual, just talking. “Hardly ever, unless we got invited to the same celebration where the cake was being served. Practically everything we ate was stale. That’s why my father was so keen on buying your squirrels and berries. Sometimes that was the only fresh food we saw all week.”

He snuggles down closer, burying the side of his face against the side of my head. In my hair. I fall asleep dreaming about what it must have been like to have enough food but only be able to eat other people's leftovers.

One night he tells me the story about a little boy who fell in love with a girl who had a voice like a sunrise. He tells me about her mother and father who had a love so true that it crossed boundaries, divides, and prejudices just to exist. He paints the boy’s father as a footnote of unrequited love. And the girl as this beautiful free spirit who never looked at the little boy twice, at least not until they were the only two people left in the entire world—

“That’s not true.” I interrupt, voice thick and choking with emotion.

“Are you crying? Katniss, please don’t cry.” He pleads. “I’m sorry. I never should have brought it up. I know you don’t like talking about the past, and these kinds of things and —”

“But I did.” I protest. “I did see you, that day with the bread, and every day after that.” I tell him, tears streaming down my face.

“Did you?” he breathes, voice softer than a whisper. As fragile as the moonbeams floating through the open window. Then, in a stronger voice, “You don’t have to say that, to try and make me feel better. You don’t have to spare my feelings.”

“I knew you were strong. You could throw a hundred-pound sack of flour over your head like it was nothing. Ever since 8th grade. You came in second in the wrestling tournament. And I knew you were smart and good with people. You always knew what to say in class and you had so many friends at school. I saw you, Peeta. I always meant to say thank you for the bread but—”

I’m cut off by him leaning in and resting his forehead against mine. I watch him take in a breath and heave it out. A light shudder passes through him.

“I never needed a thank you, for the bread. I never needed anything at all. I just hoped that it helped you in some way. And if it did, that was enough for me. Katniss I never could have dreamed that you’d notice all those things about me.”

He looks at me he’s just discovered something wonderful and completely surprising. He smiles that smile of his. The one that’s so genuinely sweet with just the perfect hint of shyness. That smile does things to me. It makes more words tumble out.

“I know a lot more now. You’re a painter. And a baker, even if the only bread you can make now is acorn flatbread. You never use berries to sweeten your tea, even when they’re in season. You always double-knot your shoelaces. You always sleep with the window open-”

His hands cup my face, his warm breath ghosts over my lips. He looks into my eyes for permission, but all I can think before I touch my lips to his, is that this would have happened anyway.

This is always where we were heading, Peeta and I.

Even if we hadn’t been the only ones left, we would have gravitated to each other.

Because I need him. I need him like air. Like water. And yet it’s more than survival. It’s more than just the way my body yearns, and hunger ignites in my veins in an entirely new way.

It’s the warmth and heat of being touched by someone that knows me, perhaps better than I know myself. He has memorized every facial expression and every errant sound from the grumbling of my stomach to the way I cry out for him in the dark.

But the sounds I make when he puts his hands on me, are not cries of fear. Distress, maybe, but only because I never, ever want him to stop touching me—ever.

And I don’t want his mouth to stop kissing me, except after he makes me fall apart with his tongue and then everything is just a bit too sensitive for a little while.

But that’s ok because then it’s his turn and oh, there’s nothing more beautiful than seeing the person who means the world to you come completely unglued at your touch.

Peeta’s never been as exquisite as he is when he’s completely bare and open to me, yearning, straining, for his peak. And even though it's clear that neither of us has very much experience with these kinds of things, what we do know is each other. Every breathy moan and deep sigh is a map to guide us to each other’s pleasure.

It may be new, and it may be scary at first, but it's us, and that makes it okay. To get lost in the sensation. To lose ourselves in each other, chasing the stars that burst beneath our very skin.

For all the thrumming pulse of passion that drives us, when it happens it’s still sweet, and slow. Like the bud turning towards the sun. The ice thawing from the tree branches. The animals coming out of their burrows and nests and waking up to a world of sunlight and possibility. It’s the thing that exists inside all creatures after they’ve braved the darkest of winters and come out the other side.

The feeling of death giving way to life. The past to the future. Fear letting go, and being replaced with something else.

The hope that life can be good again, despite our losses. That we can go on.

I know now that what I need is not the detachment of life without touch, severed forever from my past and divorced from the idea of family. I need the dandelion in the spring, the vibrant, enduring promise that dawn will come and make the world new, and us along with it.

What I need is him.

So when Peeta asks me in the morning if I love him, I say I do.

#thg #thg fanfiction #lemonluvwrites #lemonluvanswers #everlark fanfiction #everlark smut #nonexplicit smut #I wrote this for fun #self indulgent #peeta mellark #katniss everdeen

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endlessnightlock · 1 year

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hi!! 💞 I LOVED your district 13 drabble!!! I was wondering if it’d be possible to request a prompt with everlark (either hijacked peeta, or non hijacked peeta where he escaped quell with katniss lol) sneaking away during Finnick and Annie’s wedding to a hiding place bc their sexual tension hits a peak👀??

12 Sneaking away to a hidden corner to share a secretive kiss.

17 Tucking their hands beneath the other person’s shirt, just to watch them break the kiss and gasp in surprise at the sensation of cold/warm hands on their skin.

50 A kiss, followed by more that trail down the jaw and neck.

Here's a link to the first two parts of this story on Ao3.

Everlark In-Panem Canon Divergent A/U.

District 13.

An interesting couple of weeks have passed since Peeta woke from a weeks-long coma. The doctors kept him in the hospital for most of that time, running scans, drawing blood, and doing tests to assess what sort of damage was done to his mind and body. Between Capitol torture and his more recently-acquired injury, a hard knock to his head on the floor when soldiers stopped him from choking me the night of his rescue, there is much to watch out for.

His aggressiveness seems over, other than some irritability, and frankly I can't blame him. I don't spend much of my day with him to know, so what I learn is gleaned in pieces. Considering everything he's been through, he's not doing too bad. I just don't know what to say to him now.

With Peeta safe and out of immediate danger, needing a distraction from my thoughts, I've fallen back into the scheduled life of a soldier in training. Directions are printed on our arms every morning here. Wake up, have breakfast, train, rest, lunch, afternoon class, afternoon training, etc. In between, I try not to think about the death and destruction unleashed around us. The mental and physical acrobatics leave me with little time on my hands, which is exactly what I need right now. Spare time is a bad thing when you're trying your best to keep your sanity.

Evenings are reserved for visiting Peeta. Others come to see him too. Johanna, Annie and Finnick, Prim, Haymitch, my mother. Even Gale. Oh, and Delly Cartwright. I think she's the one who told him about his family. She lost hers in the bombing as well. I'm glad I didn't have to tell him myself.

Life in Thirteen, while relatively safe since the night of the air raids, has fallen into drudgery. Grey walls, grey uniforms, grey food, grey moods. But tonight, we underground moles have something to break up the monotony. Finnick and Annie are getting married. I sit in the crowded cafeteria with my mother and Prim, watching the happy couple recite vows to respect, love, and cherish each other for the rest of their lives.

In the corner of the room, there's a designated celebration area. A woman from back home managed to save her family fiddle from the bombing, so there's to be dancing after the ceremony is over. The crowning jewel amid the sparse decorations a place like Thirteen could offer is a beautiful cake Peeta decorated for Finnick and Annie..

"What do you think of it?" Peeta asks, appearing at my side out of nowhere as I study the turquoise waves, dolphins, and copper-headed mermen. He catches me off guard but I'm so in awe of his artistry that I don't have to consider what to say.

"It's wonderful," I tell him sincerely, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Gorgeous," I add for good measure, gesturing to the seashell cluster on the top layer.

"I worked on it most of the week, and I'm still not completely happy with it," Peeta admits, turning toward me. He looks the healthiest I've seen since his rescue. His hair has grown out enough that it's curling again, and the purple streaks beneath his eyes have faded away, leaving the brightness of his blue eyes and smile to draw my attention.

"Don't say that. It's perfect."

I swallow nervously when his gaze locks on mine, and I realize I've been staring at him while my mind wanders. He is so close to the old Peeta tonight that my heart aches for what we had in the Quarter Quell arena before everything went to hell. The way I kissed him, the way I knew I'd give up on living if he was taken away from me.

He's looking at me intently. When one corner of his mouth turns up in a questioning smile, a swelling warmth trickles out from my heart and careens through my veins to each of my extremities until every nerve hums. Peeta is here, alive. While neither one of us is screwed together exactly right anymore, and neither of us may live to see the end of the war, for now, we're here together. We made it out, and that has to mean something.

I reach for his hand and thread my fingers through his. He frowns, perplexed, until I tug on his hand and walk away, leading him out of the room. "Where are we going?" he asks, his voice low.

"I don't know. Not here," I say, ignoring the glances people give us. Gale is nowhere to be found, not that he would stop me now. I don't want to hurt him, but I can't pretend there's any chance of me ever wanting him the way I want Peeta.

"Away from the audience," Peeta murmurs. He sounds a little in awe. "Is this real? If not, please don't wake me up."

That's the old him I love morphed into the person he is now. Older, wiser.

We stop at the end of the hallway, where one of the overhead lights is burnt out, leaving a shadowed corner perfect for two. We're alone, but I want to take no chances.

I take his other hand in my free one. "It's real," I admit.

"We've never---"

"I know." My voice shakes at the end of my admission. "I wanted to be alone with you. Everyone, they've seen enough, judged enough. I want this to be ours."

"Want what to be ours?"

"I don't know exactly, but I really want you to kiss me right now."

He smiles widely and laughs, his eyes crinkling up in the corners. I don't know if he's in disbelief or excited or what, but I return it. He doesn't keep me waiting. My lids have already dropped before he presses the softest kiss on my lips. His arms wrap around my waist as I lean into him, two hearts bent on the same quest---to be closer, as close as we can get. When my hand inches beneath his shirt to feel the warmth of his body, he gasps at the first touch of my fingers. "Where have you been all night, in an icebox?"

Instead of denying my whereabouts, I pull him closer, kissing him deeply, then pulling away to trail more down the cord of his neck. I brush my nose against his skin, taking in that Peeta smell that makes me feel like I'm home.

Whatever happens in the upcoming days, whether we're thrown into the middle of another fight or not, at least we have tonight.

#endlessnightlock writes #everlark in D13 #thg drabble #canon-diveragence a/u #katniss everdeen/peeta mellark #sorry this took me so long to get to Anon! :)#on a bit of spree here lately glad to have the writing mojo back

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periwinckles · 1 year

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The Train Back to twelve - Chapter 18

(This is mainly a Thelly fic but I know some of you only want to read the Everlark bits. That is why I'm uploading the everlark chapters simultaneously to another work as well, to those of you that want to be saved from the Thelly drama. Enjoy.)

Week 10 - Katniss

When I wake up, the bed is empty beside me, and I sit up with a jolt. I'm always scared when I wake up and I don't see him right away, but the noise coming from the kitchen is enough reassurance.

He can't help himself from getting up early, and he beats me to it most of the time, but I'm still terrified every single time I wake up and he's not there. Of course I don't tell him this. He has enough burdens to carry and baking for the district is one of the few things that keeps him going.

When I reach the kitchen, I lean into one of the cabinets and silently observe him. He has his back turned to me, several loaves of bread already set aside on the counter, and several more inside the oven. He's still working on something, but it's not bread. I know his kneading movements by heart and that's not what he's doing right now.

The oven dings and when he opens it the familiar scent makes my mouth water.

"You made cheese buns?"

He's startled by my voice but quickly turns to a smile.

"Good morning! Did you sleep well?"

When I reach the counter I notice he has a tray set up, with a handful of berries I collected yesterday and some scrambled eggs sprinkled with rosemary. The plate is decorated with mustard flowers that he must have foraged close to Haymitch's backyard.

"The flowers are edible, I double checked your father's book. I know how particular you are with frivolous things." He tells me with a shy glance. Old Peeta would have smirked at this, maybe even given me a flirty wink. I need him to be back at his old self and sometimes I dare myself to believe he has. I told Dr Aurelius this the last time I talked to him and all he asked me was “Does it really matter if he never goes back to his old self? Are you going back to your old self?”

I guess not. But we still have this. Peeta making me cheese buns, like he used to.

"Is this for me? " I ask, but the answer is so obvious he doesn't bother to say it.

He finishes pouring the batter he was working with into a pan and placing it inside the oven.

"Is that a cake?" I ask curious as I try to catch a glimpse at the oven door.

"Yeah. Hum. Thom and Delly are coming for dinner tonight and I thought… Do you remember how last week he said he never tasted a birthday cake? I thought about making one for dessert today."

I smile at his thoughtfulness, and I am sure Delly will be delighted at his attempts to make Thom feel welcomed. This is just another thing that is so like old Peeta that it makes me hope again.

"So we're having birthday cake on a regular Friday?"

"That's the point of surviving isn't it? Enjoying life?" He asks me and we stay silent for a while. There are so many people who will never taste life again but I suppose he is right. That’s what surviving is all about isn’t it? Living?

"That cake is huge, I don't think the four of us can eat all of that." I tell him as he carefully places the cheese buns on the breakfast tray.

"Haymitch is coming too, he's been dying to have a chess match with Thom. And I thought they could take all the leftover cake back for the kids in camp. "

Peeta picks up the breakfast tray and then looks around unsure of himself.

"Well, you're out of bed now, so I guess the tray is useless…huh… do you want to…" He gestures to the kitchen table but an idea pops into my mind. He tried to do something special for me today and I don't want it to go to waste.

"Why don't we eat outside on the porch? It's nice today, and we'll get a bit of early morning sunlight."

The smile he gives me is so heartwarming that it's almost like I made him breakfast myself.

Peeta's house is the last one in Victor's village, and being on a high point means we get a full view of the forest. We watch it come to life as we savor each bite of our food.

"What day is it today?" I ask him. "I thought it was Thursday."

"It is." He tells me, popping a blueberry in his mouth.

That's strange, Delly and Thom usually come on Fridays. I ask him about it but he shrugs his shoulders in confusion as well.

"I don't know, I guess something must have come up and they can't make it tomorrow."

The wind picks up a bit, but other than that it's a beautiful spring day. Wildflowers are beginning to bloom everywhere. These were my mom’s favorite days as I would be able to gather most of her medicinal plants around this time of year.

"So what are your plans for the rest of the day? From the looks of it you already baked everything you needed to."

He looks at me with a smile and nods.

"Yeah, I was up early and I thought I might as well get that out of the way. I have to help for a bit, at the construction site this afternoon. Thom wants my help to draw some changes on the capitol’s blueprints for the buildings. Other than that, I'm free. "

Peeta has been back for more than a month now. We have breakfast and dinner together and we spend the nights together in the same bed, sometimes clinging to each other like the other’s arms was the only thing keeping us tethered to the world. But we never spend time together during the day.

"Do you want to come to the woods with me?" I ask him before I back down.

"For real?"

"Yeah, I don't have to hunt today, yesterday's spoil was big enough. I might still catch something for Sae, but you won't be a bother. We can bring the memory book and work on it for a bit, in the forest."

Read the rest on AO3

The train back to twelve

What would I do without you? (selected Everlark scenes from The train back to twelve)

#The hunger games #thg fanfiction #everlark #everlark fanfiction #peeta x katniss

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subsiist · 9 months

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Setting: Mellark Bakery, a few weeks after the 74th Hunger Games With: Peeta & Cael @caelmellark

Getting around is harder now, but Peeta also appreciates the ability to leave the house. Up until a few days ago, he'd hardly left, in too much pain and still working through recovery. And, while he can still only manage a couple of hours a day, it's better than nothing. Holing up at home, feeling the warmth radiating from the Everdeens, and watching Katniss meet Gale every Sunday had kind of been torture. He'd grown angry with his own dark thoughts. It's better now, since coming back to work a couple of days ago, even if it's awkward.

He sticks to the back because that's better than prying eyes. He can avoid those people who want to wish him well (nice, but exhausting) or those people with the questions (invasive, but he can't say no) or even those that advert their eyes when they see him (putting him at ill-ease). It's nice, turning his brain off for a couple of hours and delicately tracing pretty flowers in frosting or dripping icing onto a cake.

Ma tends to stay up front, too, which is always nice for Peeta. Today, on his fourth day back at the bakery, Cael is stationed with him. There are usually two of them - someone to decorate (typically Peeta with his artistic abilities and steady hand) and someone to do the actual baking, kneading dough or stirring a mix.

They're not talking much, but that's okay. There's something easy about the quiet - until Peeta moves and accidentally stumbles, knocking into a pan and making it clatter to the floor. For a moment, everything freezes and Peeta glances up at his brother, then at the door to the front part of the bakery. One, two, three... he lets out a breath when Ma doesn't come through. "Sorry," he mumbles and then tries to bend to pick it up. It's awkward for him, not quite used to all the movements, and it only serves to make him stumble again.

He catches himself on the counter and then lets out a huff, like an angry breath. He glances at Cael again. "Can you?" he asks.

#character | peeta mellark #interaction | peeta mellark #eventidepast #caelmellark #abuse tw #not really but implications of past abuse

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thealwayshungrygames · 5 months

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through peeta's eyes

the 74th games through peeta's eyes! ♡

[ chapter 1 ]

I hate today, granted I can't think of a single soul in panem who enjoys reaping day, excluding the capitol of course.

District 12, being on the outskirts of panem and as far away from the capitol as possible, is usually lifeless and dejected but every year on reaping day the whole place feels like its at a standstill, it's so quiet all throughout the district. There's never usually any customers on reaping day, maybe a few after the reaping is finished and sometimes a couple of kids trying to trade what they've hunted that morning for some bread. I don't like the silence in the bakery, there's nothing to distract my disquieted mind, all I can do is try and get ready while Effie Trinket's speech repeats in my head over and over again like a broken record, "may the odds be ever in your favour," I can't help but imagine her reading my name through that microphone, knowing that I more than likely wouldn't see my district, my family, my home ever again it terrifies me every year. I've managed to escape the hunger games for the past four years, I'm luckier than most kids in my district, I'm the baker's son. My family, despite having three kids to feed, has never really struggled for food therefore I've never had to take out any tesserae and get my name put into the reaping lottery more times than its required in exchange for a years supply of grains and oils. I know majority of the kids in my class and all around the district are forced to take out tesserae as it can be their only chance at survival, I could never imagine being in that position.

The constant thoughts of what would I do if my name was called out wont stop, I know my chances aren't as high as the other kids in the district and technically I'm in a better position than majority of the other boys but nothing is impossible and hearing "Peeta Mellark" could switch from an imaginative scenario to my reality. I need to stop, I can feel my hands getting sweatier and I need to cool off. I sit on the front steps of the bakery despite my mother telling me not to so I dont ruin my nice clothes. I just sit and watch the dust and leaves get taken by the hot wind, there's no kids or parents outside this morning, they're all inside trying to scrape up their nicest clothes and fixing themselves up for the reaping. I'm drawing little doodles in the dirt with a stick when I see these big, very worn boots standing in front of me.

"Is your dad home?" I look up and standing over me is this very muscular and big boned brunette boy, he hasn't gotten changed into his 'nice' clothes yet and he's holding a dead squirrel by its legs. I recognise him, his name is Gale Hawthorne, I don't know him awfully well apart from the fact that his dad was a miner and died in the big mine explosion that happened and ever since then he's hung around with the skinny girl with the brunette braid who sings from my class, even though he's a year older than us. They both see my father regularly trading all sorts of animals that they hunt and kill for food such as bread.

"Inside, decorating a cake I think, why?" Although I know exactly why, he's hoping that my father will trade this squirrel for a loaf of bread, maybe even more because its reaping day and maybe my father will feel compassion for him, I certainly would, I heard his name was in the lottery over 40 times, his age and hunting ability made him the main provider for his family after his father's death and he's had to take out tesserae under his name for each of his 3 younger siblings. Selfishly, seeing him standing in front of me with the squirrel and knowing his need for tesserae calms me down, knowing his name is in there so many more times than mine makes me realise how little my chances truly are compared to a lot of other boys.

"I want to trade this squirrel with him." He says.

I tell him i'll be right back and take the squirrel from him. As I'm walking inside with it I notice that it's been hit right in the eye, I knew he was a good hunter as he's often around the bakery trading something with my father but I hadn't ever seen such a clean shot on his animals. I give the squirrel to my dad and he gives me a loaf of bread and four fresh cookies, one for him and each of his siblings, out of the fresh batch he had baked just this morning. My dad usually bakes a big batch of cookies every reaping morning, his attempt at lightening the dampened mood in the household.

"Here." I put a half smile on my face, my own attempt at lightening the mood. "Good luck." I say, god knows he needs it more than I do.

"Yeah, thanks." He broadens his shoulders and walks away as if he's trying not to succumb to the mournful feeling in the air. As I watch him walk away, already taking a bite from one of the cookies, I think about what his chances of survival would be if he got reaped, they certainly would be a lot higher than mine.

I go back inside and try and fix my hair, the heat has made me sweat and it's starting to show in my hair. Mum slicks it back with some gel and then tucks my blue shirt into my shorts. Before I know it it's time to leave, I stare at myself in my mirror for a second and think to myself 'will this be the last time I see myself in these clothes?'

The town square is packed to the brim with nearly the whole of district 12. Every child aged 12 - 18 is here waiting to find out if they live or die. The same video from the capitol that plays every year before the reaping is playing, the video is glamorising the hunger games and trying to convince us that they aren't as cruel as we believe and are purely a result of the districts own actions from 'the dark days', a war that ended 67 years ago. It truly frightens me how cruel a whole population of people can be, so cruel that they find forcing innocent children to fight to the death every year as a spectacle, they celebrate it likes it some sort of holiday while families in the districts are being torn apart and peoples whole worlds are being turned upside down. Instead of watching the video I find myself looking around, looking at all these people I know and wondering if this will be my last look at them ever, my classmates, my brothers, even Gale. Maybe even myself.

The video stops and Effie Trinkets heels click across the stage. Effie Trinket is district 12's capitol escort, she is sent by the capitol to present our reaping day and accompany the two tributes to and through the capitol. She dresses in such bizarre and boisterous clothing I can't help but giggle at her huge wigs and crazy outfits. Effie tries to start her small speech before the reaping but Haymitch Abernathy, district 12s only alive victor, stumbles across the stage and steals the microphone from her, in a drunken rage he starts yelling sentences that nobody in the crowd can understand before collapsing and being dragged back to his seat, watching him always makes it clear why he is district 12's only victor since the 50th hunger games, because he is meant to be our mentor, that drunk mess is meant to guide the tributes through the games and teach them how to win.

Effies face slowly loses the bright red colour that Haymitch caused her as she tries to steer the reaping back on track and save district 12 from being the laughing stock of the capitol, once again.

"As always, ladies first." She makes her way over to the bowl on the right with all the young daughters of district 12s names in it, she waves her hand around before picking one piece of paper and reading it to the crowd, before sending one girl to die.

"Primrose Everdeen." Her voice echoes through the crowd, silence. I look up and see Gale put his head down in sorrow, the only time I have ever shown him truly let his guard down. I look to my right and I see little Primrose desperately looking around as if she's silently begging for someone else's name to be read out instead, I truly don't understand how someone can be so unlucky, she was only twelve years old and had never taken out tesserae, her name was in the lottery once and only once.

Primrose slowly starts walking out of the pack of girls and through the middle walkway, still looking around praying that this isn't real. Suddenly my head snaps around as I hear another voice yelling "Prim! Prim!" Her sister, Katniss Everdeen, the skinny brunette girl who sings at school. I have never properly interacted with Katniss apart from once, a few years ago, during a thunderstorm I noticed her sitting, leaning, against the big tree out the front of the bakery whilst I was baking more bread. She looked so lifeless, she couldn't even stand up properly, a result from constant starvation. I had noticed her around school before that and started growing curious about her after hearing her sing in the schoolyard, she captured me with her brown eyes and I wanted nothing more than to get to know her properly but why would she ever like me? I was the baker's son, for all she knew I had never struggled, her and I were in no way similar, I never stood a chance. After seeing her hunched over at the tree, so colourless and torpid, I burnt the loaf of bread I was meant to be baking, this angered my mother as food was scarce during the wintertime and we could barely afford to eat the food that we sold. She hit me over the head and pushed me out the front where she yelled at me to feed the burnt bread to the pigs and hit me one more time before storming inside. I noticed Katniss just staring at me, watching the whole encounter, I got embarrassed that she witnessed that. I started tearing off a couple of pieces of bread and threw them to the pigs, I looked over to the tree and she was still just watching me, I looked back at my bread and threw her the rest of the burnt loaf, she finally lifted her head and slowly moved towards the bread, she looked at me disoriented and puzzled, charity was not well known in district 12, in a world like ours it's all about self preservation.

"I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute." Katniss cries out. A volunteer? District 12 has never seen a volunteer in the whole 74 years of the games.

When the shock of Prim's reaping dies down Effie walks towards the bowl with all the boys names, I can't look up, every year I can never look up.

"Peeta Mellark!"

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

yay! finished chapter 1! this is lowkey so embarrassing if nobody reads this lolllll but oh well! here's a link for a tag list just incase anybody does read this and wants to know when I post a new chapter! (i hope it works, soo awks if it doesn't)

ps! I've finished and uploaded this at 3:22am so please if there's any grammar and/or spelling mistakes ignore themmmmm!!!!

#the hunger games #books #peeta mellark #the hunger games peeta #katniss and peeta #thg peeta #thg #thg fanfiction #the hunger games trilogy #stories #creative writing #the hunger games stories #the hunger games fanfic #peeta #team peeta

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bellybounce · 6 months

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Day 3 - "Cosy Comforts"

Day 3 of @fatguarddog's feedist kinktober! Was strugging to do one a day so I'm just following the prompt list and posting them inspo hits.

As always, my fic is a little plotty but does feature feedist kinks

Prompt : "Cosy Comforts"

Finnick finds comfort in his growing body as a way to forget his past. Peeta finds comfort in his over excessive baking as a way to stay connected to his family.

-------

From the hallway, Finnick could already smell the enchanting mixing aromas coming from the kitchen. Caramelised sugar and rich chocolate swirled with the contrasting deep spice from nutmeg and cinnamon, the tandy scent of fresh fruit and warm dough pulling him closer. He freed himself from his jacket and stored it away in the cupboard next to the doorway and padded his way further into the house.

In the kitchen, Peeta was balancing a tray carrying a dozen cupcakes in one hand whilst he shifted bread tins on the counter to make room. His apron and hair showed traces of white flower and edible paint as he hummed quietly to himself. Finnick approached him, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulled him flush against him, breathing in his warm scent.

“Hello, love,” Peeta smiled, twisting his head to place a kiss on the corner of Finnick’s lips.

“Hello yourself, have you been busy?” Finnick teased, nodding his head to the counter that held an overflow of baked goods. Sugar glazed muffins, caramel tarts, sourdough bread, fruit cakes and more sat in rows across their kitchen in various stages of cooling and decoration.

“It’s mom’s birthday tomorrow,” Peter spoke softly, placing the tray down so that he could hold onto the arms wrapped around him. Finnick hummed and placed a kiss to the side of his head, swaying him gently.

It had been nearly 15 years since they had won the rebellion and freed themselves. In time, a new government had been put forward and the districts began to rebuild. Still specialising in their own fields, the districts worked together and provided for one another; they traded, they travelled, they lived freely.

Peeta and Finnick had built for themselves a peaceful existence on the outskirts of District 4 together. They sold baked goods, like Peeta’s family, and they sold fishing supplies, like Finnicks, and they were happy.

Nevertheless, the past haunted them and they had to find ways to cope. Peeta baked in excess amounts to stay connected to his family. The family recipes long burnt to ashes in the ruins of 12, Peeta constantly recreated them to keep them fresh in his mind. Most of the time baking for the shop was enough, but on days like this when anniversaries were creeping closer, it was not, and suddenly the house would fill with sugary treats.

Peeta turned in his arms. “Do you want a snack?” Peeta asked, resting his hands on Finnick’s gut.

And it was certainly a gut.

What started out as having an extra cake here and there to trail recipes had led to a need inside of Finnick. For the first time in his life he wasn’t training, wasn’t keeping himself at peak physical health in case he had to once again be hunted. He no longer had to worry about what he looked like under his clothes, no longer had to cut meals so that he could stay toned enough that his paying customers would keep happy. It didn’t matter if he ate an extra - or 10 - cookies after dinner because the only person to touch him now was Peeta. He could finally relax and enjoy himself, and enjoy himself.

“Always,” he grinned, giving Peeta a squeeze before stepping back and making his way to the table, sitting down in his chair with an oof. Once he was up and moving, it was easy to forget the weight he carried, but as soon as he sat down he could feel the tightness of his trousers around his waist, could see his buttons straining on his shirt to contain his girth that sat halfway covering his thighs. His back would radiate with pain, screaming with relief that it could rest the weight it had been lugging around all day.

Sighing, he leant back and rested his hands on his stomach, lightly stroking as he watched Peeta plate him a platter and come to hit beside him. He reached his hand out and rubbed Finnick’s belly causing it to jiggy with emptiness. “Let’s get you fed, shall we?”

One by one, Peeta shoved desserts into Finnick’s mouth, hardly giving him time to swallow before the next sweet treat was shoved into his mouth with an explanation of a change in the recipe or a new flavour he decided to try. Finnick breathed around mouthfuls, chewing as he mauled his ball of a belly, feeling it tighten. With each bite he could feel his skin pulling and burning as it stretched to accommodate his bloating gut.

Those who bought his body for a night at a time would sometimes feed him, but it was always sexual. A grape dangling above his mouth, a smear of chocolate licked off of their thumb, a cherry passed from their tongue to his. It was never the warm sight of Peeta before him placing an eight sliced cream and jam sponge in front of him with a smile. It was never Peeta pushing forkfuls of his laboured love into his lips with words of kindness.

Finnick huffed, gasping for breath as he finished his fourth slice. Four slices of cake, two dozen cookies, a whole family sized loaf of bread and a creamy box of fudge weighed heavy on him like a rock and he felt fit to burst. He pawed at his stomach groaning with content at his fullness.

“Come on, love, only half left,” Peeta encouraged, rubbing his sore, tight skin.

“I can’t,” Finnick’s breath was now a pant, his fleshy chest rising and falling against the shelf of his stomach. “If I have anymore I’ll be stuck here.”

“Well we can’t have that,” Peeta declared, standing to attention. “Let’s get you into bed and you can finish the slices there.” Grabbing Finnick’s hands in his, he braced himself and tugged Finnick out of his seat and onto his feet. Even with a lifetime of lugging 80 lbs bags of flour around, there was a straining in his arms.

“God,” Finnick moaned, pushing his stomach forward as he rubbed his back with both hands, looking like he was full term with child. Leaving one hand on his back, he cupped the mass of his stomach with the other in a vain attempt to stop it from dragging him forward as he waddled his way to their bedroom. Each step felt like he was wading through water as he dragged the weight of what felt like two men on his bones. Behind him, he heard Peeta giggle and a flash of love ran up his spine.

Once in their bedroom he freed himself from his tight clothing and threw himself onto their bed, his bare flesh crowding his vision as he expanded above him. He ran his fingers over the silvery stretch marks he had collected over the years and smirked. If only Snow could see him now, he thought.

Peeta had also stripped down to his underwear and had placed the remaining cake next to him on the bed as he climbed on top of Finnick, straddling his hips. He placed the cake on the convenient table Finnick had managed to grow around his waist and resumed the stuffing.

Finnick moaned between each bite in a mix of pleasure and pain, with each sugary bite bursting with flavour in his mouth and further bursting his stomach. On him, Peeta murmured words of love with each forkful that made Finnick adore him even more.

“Last bite,” Peeta smiled, shoved into his lips before quickly following with his own pressed against Finnick’s. He swallowed and let out a groan as Peeta collapsed onto him, his slender frame pressed flush against Finnick’s endless rolls of fat. Peeta’s hand cupped his growing chin as he peppered kisses against his cheeks, licking a few crumbs off as he went.

Peeta rubbed at Finnick’s aching stomach, pressing and kneading like he did with the bread dough in the morning, his expert hands finding the tightest areas and massaging away the tension.

“I love you, Finnick,” he told him softly as he stroked Finnick’s expansive body. And Finnick loved him too, more than he could ever articulate, because with his help, Finnick had created a body that could never be sold again, and was instead decorated with rolls and stretch marks that showed how much he was cared for.

Also on Ao3 if you could go show it some love there.

Comments welcome! You can send your prompts via Tumblr or Ao3

#the hunger games #finnick odair #peeta mellark #weight gain fiction #weight gain #belly kink #fat belly #belly rubs #stuffing belly #soft feedism #feedist kinktober 2023 #getting bigger #belly expansion #obese belly #ball belly

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avoxrising · 5 months

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The Feral One • Ch 17

Finnick x Y/N

Series Masterlist Link

This is kind of Chapter 16 part 2 so apologies that it’s short!

Content Warnings - Panic Attack, mention of previous rape, descriptions of gore, self harm

You decide to visit Peeta again. If anyone was going to tell you what you wanted to know, it would be him. You told Haymitch and Boggs that you wanted to visit him to tell him about the wedding in the hopes that it would cheer him up. They agreed and they let you inside.

“Peeta!” you grin as you enter his room. The blond looks up at you surprised.

“I didn’t think you were going to come back,” he states, sadness in his eyes.

“Well Peeta,” you reply. “I have lots to share with you, and something you can share with me.”

“Ok…” he hesitantly agrees.

“Firstly,” you start. “Finnick and I agreed to get fake married in District 13 to make people happy. People are sad right now so we thought it was a good idea.”

“Oh,” he states, taking the information in.

“Second,” you continue, “I talked to Haymitch and Boggs and they’ve agreed to let you decorate our wedding cake!”

“You want me to decorate your cake?” he asks. “I’d be honored.”

“Ok now I need your help on something,” you tell him, hoping Boggs and Haymitch won’t notice what you are doing and pull you out of there.

“I don’t trust the people here,” you explain. “But I trust you. The capital erased some of my memories and I’m trying to figure out what I’m forgetting. Apparently something happened on my victory tour that was very bad but nobody will tell me. Do you know what they are talking about?”

Peeta nods his head, sadness filling his eyes.

“Johanna told me in the arena,” he responds. “You… you were raped by a man in the capital; some important guy I think. You killed him during it and that’s why the capital hates you. After that you didn’t talk to anyone besides Finnick for five years and didn’t let anyone touch you. It’s why the capital calls you Feral and everyone is afraid of you.”

You can faintly hear Boggs enter the room but you’re frozen in place. The memories were starting to come back to you; the feeling of his hands on you, gouging out his eyes…

Boggs is guiding you out of the room but suddenly you don’t want him touching you. You don’t want anyone touching you.

“Don’t touch me,” you growl as you shrug his arm off of you. He goes to say something into his radio and you take the chance to bolt away from him and everyone else near Peeta’s room.

Shouts for you are ignored as you run down the halls of District 13. You make turn after turn, hoping to lose the people chasing you and yourself deep in the bunker.

When your lungs are burning and you can’t run anymore, you climb into a supply closet and shut the door. You need time away from people. They’re probably chasing you to hunt you down. You’re dangerous.

A worried Haymitch comes flying into the training room where Finnick is throwing around his trident.

“Finnick!” he shouts, out of breath. “We need you on deck 9 now.”

Haymitch had never seen the young man move so quickly. He instantly dropped his trident and sprinted past the older victor, not even stopping to ask questions.

When Finnick arrived on deck 9, he was greeted by Boggs.

“Is she alright?” he asks worried. “Where is she?”

“I have soldiers trying to figure that out as we speak,” Boggs states. “She visited Peeta and it didn’t go well. He told her about her victory tour and she ran. We were hoping you’d be able to help us find her.”

“Give me some sedatives just in case,” Finnick responds. “Do you know what direction she went in?”

“That way,” Boggs states and the blond runs off in that direction.

It takes two hours and a suggestion from Katniss to check the supply closets for Finnick to find you. The soldiers had opted to secure the surrounding corridors to keep you from moving locations, deciding that you’d be the least likely to hurt anyone if Finnick found you.

“Y/N?” he asks, shining a light into the closet.

“Get away from me!” you growl.

He looks down at your shivering form on the floor of the closet. Your face was wet from crying and your arms were red from you clawing at them.

“Y/N,” he states calmly, causing you to look up at him. “I’m going to sedate you and then take you to my room. You need somewhere to process this and a supply closet isn’t safe.”

You shake your head at him, knowing he’s right but not wanting to go anywhere. He crouches down towards you with his hands out in front of them. He has a small syringe in one containing what looks like sedative from the hospital.

“You’ll be in my room when you wake up,” he tells you. “I won’t let them take you anywhere. Do you understand?”

You give him a slight nod before you close your eyes, allowing him to sedate you and carry you off.

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#hunger games #finnick odair #hunger games fic #the hunger games #finnick odair x reader #finnick x reader #finnick odair angst #finnick angst #finnick #mockingjay #the feral one

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69slaysoulsister69 · 2 years

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Thoughts I Had While Re-Watching The Hunger Games After 6 Years

1. I was crying for the first couple of minutes but as soon as Katniss went hunting and she met up with Gale I realized that the acting is so bad. Like literally horrific. At first i thought I was going to throw up because I loved it so much but now I'm going to throw up because its so bad

2. The only emotion I’m feeling in all of this so far is because of the prim and katniss sister relationship

3. Its the tribute parade and im crying again

4. How the fuck did decorating cakes at the bakery teach peeta to disguise as a tree?? Thinking about it more I decided that peeta was just undermining himself and he had been painting his whole like and really good at it, but didnt want to say that so he was just like “oh yeah, the cakes”. Because I know this boy did not get all of that from the bakery and i HOPE he was not out here making fucking tree cakes so

5. I just realied the whole thing about hope and how it applies to the two victor situation. How that little bit of hope was good in snows eyes but it had to be revoked because having two winners would be too much.

6. “Becuase she came here with me” whoop there it is

7. Gale is a terrible friend. Why the fuck wasnt he watching the start of the hunger games? Like seriously pathetic.

8. Why don’t the careers kill peeta right when they find Katniss?

9. Peeta malark is my everything

10. Katniss saying damn you to peeta after she said that to gale at the beginning???

11. Listen, Katniss and peetas love story obviously doesn’t hold as much weight because they weren’t literally in love with each other for 15 years, but I’m here for it. It was nice when she freaked out because she thought he was dead

12. I feel like the end came so quick in this movie? Like it literally took not that long at all and it just went by so fast.

13. Everything about this movie just feels so rushed. Like I feel like I blinked and everything happened. It was so easy for them. This is actually a bad movie

14. I JUST REALIZED THAT KATNISS DIDNT WANT TO EAT THE BERRIES BECUASE SHE LOVED PEETA like I’m seriously pretty sure that I always thought that but it’s not true. She cared about peeta, sure but in the end she was just angry and she wanted to defy the capital. Oh my god the things we realize now

15. I’m going to watch catching fire now and I’m going to regret it

#the hunger games #catching fire #i was a mega fan in middle school and going back to it now is so rough

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janeeyreheresy · 8 months

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A Happy Ending or An Unreliable Narrator?

Was the ending truly a happy one--or is Jane lying to us?

Let's take a look: Jane Eyre ("I am no bird no net ensnares me") married her much older former master, who, due to his limited use of limbs and visual impairment, requires care. We know there's no hired carer, because Jane explicitly says she was the one who looked after him (hence why she had to send Adele to school) and also, as I noted in my recap post, it's not likely they'd be able to hire anyone. They've got no room for a live-in staff and a live-out one won't be able to make their daily way to Ferndean, which is located away from habitable civilisation.

Ferndean Manor, we are told, is not in a good state. We are told that Rochester didn't move Bertha there because the damp walls would eventually result in her death. This is the house where the Rochesters now live. Jane, however, tells us nothing about any repairs being done. Neither does she mention any decorating, purchasing furniture, wallpaper, carpets, curtains, pictures on the walls--zilch. She got a lot of pleasure out of cleaning Moor House in time for Christmas (shortly after she discovered she and the Riverses were cousins). Just look at this:

“My first aim will be to clean down (do you comprehend the full force of the expression?)—to clean down Moor House from chamber to cellar; my next to rub it up with bees-wax, oil, and an indefinite number of cloths, till it glitters again; my third, to arrange every chair, table, bed, carpet, with mathematical precision; afterwards I shall go near to ruin you in coals and peat to keep up good fires in every room; and lastly, the two days preceding that on which your sisters are expected will be devoted by Hannah and me to such a beating of eggs, sorting of currants, grating of spices, compounding of Christmas cakes, chopping up of materials for mince-pies, and solemnising of other culinary rites, as words can convey but an inadequate notion of to the uninitiated like you. My purpose, in short, is to have all things in an absolutely perfect state of readiness for Diana and Mary before next Thursday; and my ambition is to give them a beau-ideal of a welcome when they come.”

This one paragraph contains more home cosiness than the entire last chapter. The "I have now been married ten years" paragraph may be very poetic, but it tells us nothing. She was his eyes, then he regained some sight, so he can pretty much move about by himself. She says they visit Diana and Mary, but that's all. Nothing else about how they spend their time, the long summer days or the long winter nights.

And then, that "when his first-born was put into his arms" line. Even Katniss Everdeen isn't this cold about her kids, and she didn't want any. She only had them because Peeta talked her into it. There's nothing in the book that would indicate whether Jane wanted children, but neither is there anything that would indicate she didn't want them. Presumably she did, married life would have meant kids (unless, idk, they lived sexlessly, or there was birth control). She only mentions how Rochester felt about the kid ("On that occasion, he again, with a full heart, acknowledged that God had tempered judgment with mercy."), not her. It's baffling.

Lastly, the final words are dedicated to St John. Why? She receives his letter from India, in which he tells her he feels death coming. She gets tears in her eyes. Does she wish she married him instead?

Of course, that would not have been a better option than marrying Rochester in any way, but she may have thought the grass was greener in St John-landia.

So to sum it up, there's certainly an argument against it being a happy ending. Take it any way you wish.

Personally I don't care. I actually think she was, indeed, happy. I may not see caring for a spouse in a dump like Ferndean in Bumfuck Nowhere a happy ending, but that's me. Jane, however, does. This is a woman with a very limited worldview, who has never been anywhere and not met many people, who fell in love with the first man who crossed her path, who at barely twenty years old believes nobody will ever love her the way the Roch did. She doesn't think that she deserves anything better than what she got. So yeah, she was happy.

But like I said, I don't care. What I do care about is that Bertha was happy after her escape and divorce from Rochester.

#jane eyre #jane eyre heresy #not recap

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lukas-crying-heart · 1 year

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Annie blinks, “What about me?”

“Do you live alone, or with anyone?” “Oh,” Annie says, and then she nods, before she remembers Katniss would not know what part she is nodding to, “I live with someone. Peeta Mellark,” she watches as Katniss' face flashes with something, “Do you know him?” She knows Katniss knows him, but she pauses, and then Katniss nods, “We went to the same school,” she says simply, “how is he?” Annie humms, “He's good, doing cake decorating now, and studying art.” Katniss nods, “That sounds about right,” she looks at Annie again, “What brought you to the city.”

To hide from your trauma “For a change.”

Oooooh

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seasonsofeverlark · 2 years

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Fool Me Once

Author: @jhsgf82

Prompt: I hope some taboo romance would be okay… Katniss and her friends always throw the worst pranks on april fool’s day, they’re literal legends when it comes to it and their creativity makes sure that every target falls for their pranks/rumours. This time is no different but they decide to prank the uptight pastor of their local church, Peeta. What if Peeta decides its up to him to stop the gang? Will prankster gang leader Katniss agree or sweep the stuck-up, cute pastor off his feet? M or E, older Peeta, HEA. [submitted by @sparklingdust4612]

Rating: T (for now)

Summary: Troublemaker Katniss Everdeen and her group of friends are legendary pranksters in their sleepy Appalachian town, until one day they take their pranking too far, incurring the ire of the young associate pastor of their local church, Peeta Mellark. After being caught by Pastor Mellark, Katniss is sent in to talk to him and to try and convince him not to press charges against them. Will she have the effect on him everyone seems to think she does? Or will he end up having an effect on her‒and possibly, changing her life? Bad girl!Katniss x Pastor!Peeta, childhood acquaintances, mutual pining

Author’s Note: Part 1 of 2. In this fic, Peeta is meant to be a Christian pastor (I kept the denomination vague, but I was thinking either Baptist or Protestant or something fictional but with some similarities to those). Forgive any inaccuracies here; I don’t know much about becoming a member of the clergy, and I also took some liberties for the purposes of this fic. No disrespect meant to Christianity or any other religion here; this is just for fun. Happy April Fools’ Day! I hope you enjoy this fic, @sparklingdust4612, and everyone else! Word Count: 2,744 __________________

Katniss Everdeen had a problem‒its manifestation was in the form of one Peeta Mellark. Correction, Pastor Peeta Mellark.

Pastor Mellark was medium height with a stocky build, ashy blond hair that fell in waves across his forehead, and bright blue eyes, the bluest Katniss had ever seen. He only had two years on Katniss’s nineteen, though he was already far ahead of her in terms of success, at least, as much success as one could have in their small town. But then again, Peeta was from the Merchant district, and Katniss was from the Seam, the poorest area, on the edge of town.

Despite their difference in status, Katniss and Peeta had gone to school together (well, there was only one); they’d even ended up in the same year from high school on because Peeta had missed two years of schooling‒one in 9th grade when his father became ill and he had to help out at the family bakery and also back in second grade for some mysterious reason which was never explained.

Katniss recalled Peeta used to wrestle in high school. He was good, second to only his brother, and she’d found herself stopping to catch his matches here and there. When she could. She’d stand way in the back, out of sight, and watch, silently cheering him on.

Peeta used to work at his family’s bakery. She remembered he was able to lift 100-pound sacks of flour straight up over his head, and he’d lug them around the bakery from day to day. She knew he had a small burn scar across the back of his right knuckle from the ovens. She also knew about his artistic flair and how he’d decorated the cakes down at the bakery. However, somewhere down the line, he’d decided to pursue a religious vocation. He’d managed to graduate early and was already going into his second year of seminary school.

In the meantime, he was the Associate Pastor (in training) and Chaplain for the town. He preached at the church most Sundays now, and he got involved in a number of town activities, particularly charity and fundraising ones, such as a food for the needy program, bake sales (he always baked bread and the best cheese buns Katniss had ever eaten), and she recalled Pastor Mellark coming up with the idea for the Harvest Festival, during one of which he’d auctioned off himself and a few other young men for dances. Peeta Mellark had quite a few female admirers, Katniss noted. Their eyes had met that night, Katniss recalled (as foolish as that sounded), and there was a moment when it looked like he was heading straight for her, but she’d veered off and run into the woods.

Another thing Katniss knew about Peeta Mellark was that he was kind. She knew he visited the sick, the wounded, and the dying (she’d even seen him in her home on a few occasions when her mother had been tending to some people) to provide them comfort and guidance, whatever they needed. He’d really done so much for this town. And for her…

But that was another story…

Katniss didn’t go to church anymore, hadn’t for a long time, but on the Sundays when Pastor Mellark preached, she would watch and listen through the back window from a high tree. She’d seen him today, outside of church, dressed in casual clothing. It’d been a while since Katniss had seen Peeta dressed casually. He always looked so proper and pristine. Sometimes he wore a clerical collar, crisp black shirt, and neatly pressed black pants with a belt, but usually, it was a suit and tie. He often wore a gray suit with a blue tie, which brought out his eyes, or an orange and white striped shirt. And when he preached he typically slicked his hair back, but today, he wore his hair in messy bangs that swept across his forehead, like he used to back in school. She remembered they’d get a bit damp when he sweated during his wrestling matches. She preferred his hair this way.

Preferred. Huh. As if she’d really given it some thought.

Katniss supposed she knew a lot about Pastor Peeta Mellark, despite not attending church. Apparently, she hadn’t been as oblivious to him as she’d imagined, or wanted to think she was. The flour. The scar. The wrestling. She’d kept track of the boy with the bread, her town’s new and upcoming pastor.

—–

When you lose a loving parent at a young age (and suddenly become responsible for your entire family), it changes you. Sometimes, it changes you for the better. And sometimes, for the worse. Some people step up, do what they need to do; others act out. For a while, Katniss did the upstanding thing and provided for her sister’s and mother’s needs, but she no longer felt needed or necessary.

Katniss had no real aim in life now that her sister was old enough to care for herself and their family was much better off than they once were, thanks to her sister and mother’s new business and some regular food donations from the local church. Katniss never really felt comfortable about accepting those, especially when she could go hunting, but her pride needed to take a backseat to feeding her family when food was scarce.

Thus, Katniss spent a lot of time with a group of friends, mainly in the woods. Among Katniss’s friend group, there was Gale, her best friend and hunting partner. Their friendship had begun over mutual loss and understanding. Both their fathers had been killed in the same coal mining accident when Katniss was 11 and Gale was 13. They’d met when she was 12 and he was 14, in the woods, both hunting to help their families survive. And they’d decided to help one another by sharing their individual strengths (Gale was a whiz at snares, and Katniss was handy with a bow). Gale’s mother had had no job then and simply couldn’t support her four children, and Katniss’s mother, though she had a job as the town healer had gone into a deep depression after her husband died and stopped caring for Katniss and Prim, or even responding. They’d had to force-feed her, and it took years before she even resembled the woman she once was.

Gale was a good friend, and things with him were simple. Or, at least, they were for the longest time. He had tried to kiss her once; she supposed he’d misread their friendship. Either that, or he’d been jealous of the local peacekeeper, Darius, hitting on her and had wanted to try and stake some claim he never had.

Then Johanna Mason came along. She’d moved to their town a few years back from another district. Jo and Gale were practically an item now (they might as well be for as often as they made out in the woods and at the slag heap), although Gale seemed to also have his eye on the mayor’s daughter, Madge Undersee. Even though he ragged on her for being a stuck-up, prissy little princess, he definitely looked at her the way a guy looks at a girl, or so it seemed to Katniss, though she was no expert on the subject. But since that was never going to happen, Gale seemed to have set his sights…lower, or rather, on someone more his speed, someone he could actually get. And that’s where Johanna came in.

Katniss’s group of friends (there were five of them) called themselves the Mockingjays, after the elusive, fabled (but nonetheless, real) bird of the woods of their district. It was said it could imitate any song or sound. Although the members of Katniss’s group weren’t singers‒well, she was, or rather, used to be‒they liked the symbolism of the bird. As for Katniss, she’d never been one for stupid names or labels, but she went along with the rest of them just to keep the peace. She did that a lot as it were, on a lot of things, including pranking. Yes, her group was notorious for their pranks, legendary. No one really knew it was them, because they were never caught red-handed (they were too sneaky for that), but everyone knew, or at least suspected, it was them.

The townspeople were often annoyed by the pranks, at times amused, and for the most part, no one did a thing about them. Or rather, no one used to…

It seemed to be Pastor Mellark’s latest endeavor to bust them for their shenanigans, so the Mockingjays spent a great deal of time giving him the slip. He was keeping close tabs on the Hob, though he hadn’t tried to shut it down yet. He’d even found their hideout, and they’d had to move it. Katniss didn’t know how he could have found it unless he’d followed her or one of the others there. But she didn’t think that possible, for Pastor Mellark's gait was loud-it was easy to hear him coming from miles away.

Despite his heavy tread, Pastor Mellark was able to hinder several of their pranks; he was a formidable foe, and Katniss knew that Gale, in particular, was getting sick of him.

—–

Spring had arrived. On April 1st, Gale and Katniss met up before dawn without the rest of the group. Gale had said he wanted to discuss a ‘plan’ with her, an April Fool’s Day prank, before sharing it with the others. Katniss was suspicious, of course‒the last time he’d tried to get her alone like this, when they weren’t hunting, was when he’d last tried to kiss her‒but he did seem happy enough with Jo, so she wasn’t too worried about it.

“What’s the plan?” she asked him directly. “Who’s the target this time?”

The corners of Gale’s lips twitched, and he said, “Pastor Mellark.”

Oh no, not him…

—–

A little later that morning…

The Mockingjays were on the steps of the church setting up their childish yet rather elaborate prank, prior to this morning’s services.

“I don’t know about this…,“ grumbled Katniss, crossing her arms. She didn’t like the idea of pranking Pastor Mellark, even though he’d been a thorn in their side for weeks now…

“You’re not going soft on us, are you Brainless?” snipped Jo. Katniss glared. She hated when Johanna called her that.

“No, I just…” It felt wrong. Peeta‒Pastor Mellark‒might be a stuck-up, Bible-toting goody-two-shoes, but he was genuinely a kind person. Kind people had a way of working their way inside Katniss and rooting there. And of course, she could never forget about that one time…with the bread…

Katniss sighed as she watched Gale light up a cigarette. She scowled, finding it to be a disgusting habit. Not quite as disgusting as his tobacco-chewing habit, but equally bad (or worse) for his health. She recalled Gale had had a mouthful of chew when he’d tried to kiss her, which was only one of the reasons she’d reared back from him so fast she nearly snapped her neck. “Gross!” she’d exclaimed. “You actually tried to kiss me with that in your mouth, after you just spit a huge wad of that brownish-black gunk out?!” It was a good excuse at the time, but she’d eventually had to explain that she wasn’t interested in him that way. Gale had been hurt at first, but he’d bounced back pretty quickly by taking more than one girl to the slag heap.

“You just what, Catnip?” asked Gale between drags. “You agreed to this, didn’t you?”

She had. But now she was rethinking the whole thing.

“I did,” she conceded.

“Then, go on,” Gale motioned with his head toward the gnarled old oak outside of the church. “Get to your post.”

Katniss scowled. Don’t boss me around, she told him with her glare.

Gale answered by casually throwing a rock through one of the church’s stained glass windows.

“Did you have to go and break the window, asshole?” growled Katniss. She didn’t like where this was going. All their pranks before had been relatively harmless, but now they were venturing into vandalism territory. And not to mention, she really liked that window. She thought it was intricate and beautiful. She recalled Pastor Mellark really liked it, too. He was artsy and had once mentioned from the pulpit how he had an eye for beauty. Strange that he’d caught her eye in that moment.

Gale one-arm shrugged, and Katniss glared harder at him.

After a quick inspection of the damage to the window, Katniss sighed defeatedly. She was about ready to pull the plug on the whole operation, what with Gale being so demanding and then breaking her favorite window, but it was too late now, so she meandered over to her lookout post. She purposely took her time so as not to seem like she was complying with Gale’s ‘orders.’ She took to climbing the tree, and once she was settled in high enough to see the roof of the church and the entire town from all directions, she gave the low whistle of the Mockingjays.

Just then, Katniss caught sight of Pastor Mellark through the broken window. Crap. What’s he doing here so early?! He was limping a little, which happened sometimes, probably from being on his feet for too long. He had a bad knee, after all, an old wrestling injury, which caused him to favor his other leg, and he tread heavily on it.

All of a sudden, Katniss was flashing from an image of Peeta in high school to a near-future one. She was seeing him drenched and covered in flour from head to toe, thanks to their prank. His hair and nice clothing were wrecked, but his face was the worst, his forehead crinkled up, a look of pure betrayal in those gentle blue eyes. Because he knew it was her…

So, this was how it was going to be? Rather than thanking him for the bread, for saving her and her family’s lives all those years ago, she was going to deceive him?

Stunned by his appearance and shaken by her guilt-ridden thoughts, it took Katniss a couple of extra seconds to recall the situation they were in and issue the warning whistle. When she did, he turned in her direction and looked out.

Shit.

Pastor Mellark made his way over to the window, surveyed the damage at close range, and then headed out the back door.

Double shit.

Katniss was up maybe 15 to 20 feet in the air, but Pastor Mellark seemed to know exactly where the whistle had come from, so he’d surely look up. She needed to get out of this tree fast. She looked down to see Gale and Johanna staring up at her, mouths agape, questioning. She waved them off. The other two were already hightailing it toward the woods.

—– While Gale and Jo took off, Katniss shimmied down the oak, only to miss her footing when she heard her name called loudly. She swore as she lost her grip and tumbled unceremoniously out of the tree. Were she her sister’s cat, Buttercup, she might have landed gracefully on her feet. However, she was not, and instead, she hit the ground at a bad angle, causing her ankle to twist awkwardly and painfully. She winced in pain as she lie on her side, clutching her injured foot. She didn’t think it was broken, but she also wasn’t certain she could walk on it. Her face contorted as she tested with a bit of pressure, preparing to attempt to stand.

There was no use in trying, however, for she’d already been spotted by Pastor Mellark, and he was swiftly making his way toward her. He was no longer limping, but rather, he was running toward her. Katniss’s head swam in pain, not the worst she’d ever experienced, but definitely considerable. She looked up into the concerned blue eyes of Pastor Mellark.

“Katniss, are you alright?”

“Yeah, I, uh…think so…” She winced again, and his forehead wrinkled.

“I’ll get you home,” he said.

“No, it’s okay‒” But before she could protest further, he was lifting her into his strong arms and carrying her bridal style.

She’d been caught, and Katniss knew she was in big trouble; however, she couldn’t help but lean in slightly and inhale the sweet scent combination of cinnamon and dill emanating from Pastor Mellark’s high-collared shirt and neck.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #spring #spring 2022 #jhsgf82 #submission #prompt

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