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Damn now I want fanart that is a picture of Katniss, Peeta, their kids, Haymitch, Annie and her son, and Johanna and maybe even Mrs Everdeen too. Full on family picture.

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Stormin the Capitol 😎

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actual photographs of Katniss and Peeta (Marpessa Dawn and Eric Vander) during their Victory tour.

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Coin being frustrated that she didn't get her wanted prize at the claw machine, as if the plushie with the bread wouldn't successfully gaslight her entire district on day one just to rescue his pregnant wife

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@triassictriserratops you MAY!!!!!!!!!!! they made cookies

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“If only one of us can be a parent, anyone can see it should be Peeta. As I drift off, I try to imagine that world… A place like the meadow in the song I sang... Where Peeta’s child could be safe.”

Catching Fire, page 354

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Questions from a Curious Child

and there was a tickle fight…the end.

this reblog has lived in the back of my mind for a bit and it inspired me to make this, so thank you @thesweetnessofspring

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Questions from a Curious Child

and there was a tickle fight…the end.

this reblog has lived in the back of my mind for a bit and it inspired me to make this, so thank you @thesweetnessofspring

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do i smell like roses to you? id in alt.

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Katniss is impatient, Peeta is patient.

Katniss can sing, Peeta cannot even whistle.

Katniss is messy, Peeta is neat.

Katniss can cook, Peeta can bake.

Katniss nurtures, Peeta’s got humour.

Katniss writes, Peeta paints.

They make one hell of a team.

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I forgot to post these

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Maybe when you're older

Katniss and Peeta Age: 5-6

“You better give that back Colton, or else.” the dark-haired girl sneered.

“Or what?” the older boy taunted.

“I’ll stick one of my daddy’s arrows in your eyes,” the girl retorted, glaring into his flesh like an angry bear from one of her daddy’s stories.

Th older boy bent down and tugged on her pigtails. Katniss’ face flushed bright red, she felt heat coursing through her veins. She unclenched her tight jaw and threw herself over the older boy’s arm and bit down, hard.

Colton let out a let out a loud yelp, dropped the crayon and scurried like a scared mouse.

“Here,” Katniss said, handing the orange to the blond-haired boy behind her.

“Thank you, “the boy replied, attempting his best smile in between tears.

“Don’t cry. I got your crayon back, it’s all okay now.” Her silver eyes softened as she watched long steaks run down the pale boy’s face.

The boy nodded, lifting his shirtsleeve to wipe his wet face.

“Come, you can sit with me and Madge,” Katniss offered with a sweet smile.

The boy beamed up at her and grabbed her shirtsleeve as they strolled down the lunchroom.

After that day the boy and the girl followed each other everywhere like lost puppies. He never let go over of her hand and neither did she.

---

“My daddy took me swimming last weekend, “the girl said.

“I wish my daddy would do anything besides bake all the time. Was is nice? What colour was the water?”

“It was  sooo fun. I keep begging daddy to take me again, but he keeps saying something about the Capitol adding more work time. It was so pretty Peeta, so many colours I can’t explain. It was blue and green and clean and sparkly and I just love it, love it.”

“Can I come with you next time,” the boy raised his head expectantly.

“Mmm, I don’t know. I’ll have to ask daddy.” She said, watching the boy intently as he unwrapped a piece of bread. Her mouth watered and so she shifted her gaze quickly trying not to look too obvious that she hadn’t had a proper meal in days, But the boy knew her better and pressed a piece of bread into her hand as her stomach let out a loud lurch.

“Thank you.”

She had watched her parents kiss multiple time, she never quite understood why they did but at that moment looking at her best friend’s face an idea creeped into her head.

Katniss grabbed both of his hands and leaned up close to his tiny lips and pressed her lips against them. They both pulled back in surprised, flushed and embarrassed.

---

They sat by side in art class, Peeta was immersed in painting his tree. While Katniss half-heartedly drew scribbles on her notebook, peaking glances at her best friend every so often.

She leaned in close to him and brought her hands at to his eyelashes and stroked them, The boy pulled back surprised,

“You’re eyelashes are very pretty.”

“Thank you.”

The boy turned around and kept colouring his tree a dark shade of green, the girl’s hair brushed against his shoulders as she watched her with droopy eyes.

Peeta turned once again and twirled her red ribbon against his index finger, the girl lifted her head, smiling and unwound her ribbon.

“Here.” She said, scruffily wrapping the string around his wrist.

---

“Daddy, I like a boy”.

“Really sweety? What’s his name?” The tall, dark-haired man asked his little girl.

“Peeta.”

The tall man laughed deeply thinking about the Mr Mellark’s deep affections for his wife when they were kids.

“Daddy can I stay with him, he has bunk bed and bread and crayons and everything.”

“Won’t you miss daddy? And what about Prim? How will she fall asleep if you don’t sing to her.” The man pouted.

“Hmm. I can’t leave Prim, you’re right. Maybe when I’m older?” The girl earnestly questioned the silver eyed man.

“Maybe when you’re older.”

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MEOW!!! ...... who said that

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Snow made me wear it

[PATREON REQUEST OF THE MONTH]

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I wrote this last night when I couldn’t sleep, will I finish it and post it on ao3? Let’s hope.

I sit with my back pressed tight against the wall. I try to hold myself together by the seams, my nails dig desperately into my skin. I thought I had become something of an expert on fear, or at the very least I thought I was familiar with it. But nothing could have prepared me for this universe shifting moment. This lack of control. I squeeze my eyes shut and dare not breathe more than I must. My heart knocks insistently into my chest. Bum, bum it says. Bum, bum, bum, bum, a reminder of this unending life.

“Katniss!” I hear Haymitch before I see him. The storage rooms door flies open, “Katniss, they’re back. Katniss!”

I blink and stare at him uncomprehendingly. He’s still shouting, his hands reaching out to grab me, but the shock is intense. I stare at my mentors’ familiar face, my eyes round and helpless, a child once more.

The child I am.

“He’s alive, Katniss, he’s alive.” Haymitch says in a slower more purposeful tone. He crouches as best as his useless knees will allow him, his hands reaching out to grasp me by the forearms. “Katniss, we did it. We got them back.”

And when I take my next breath, it feels like a car crash. The sounds of the world catch up to me and somehow, the meaning of Haymitch’s words finally enter my mind. Alive. Here.

I keep staring at Haymitch helplessly, but I scramble to my feet. I’m hyperventilating. Haymitch shakes me, but my breathing doesn’t slow. There’s no time. I push past him and nearly fall on my face, rushing down the hall.

I don’t need to ask; I know where to go. He’ll be at the hospital. He’ll be past this hall, around that corner. My body, my heart, something in me knows. It tells me where to go. Keep going, keep going. If I don’t get there quick enough, who knows. I have to get there.

“Annie!” I skid to a stop, taken aback by the absolute emotion in Finnicks’ voice. There’s so much joy, so much love.

“Finnick!” a woman replies, running to him and jumping into his arms. My skin itches, my heart burns. I’m so envious, I have to look away. I used to be held like that, I used to have that much love.

But then my heart stutters. Alive. Here. If I keep running, will the arms that I’m looking for hold me? Will I hear his voice? Will I feel his lips?

“Come on!” Haymitch takes me by the arm and yanks me in the other direction. We’re both running now, I’m surprised Haymitch can keep up. He pulls me towards a hospital room, a very busy one. There are doctors everywhere, nurses too. I shove my way past them because I know, oh god, I know it. He’s here, in this room.

“Peeta,” I gasp, and the longing is so intense. He’s awake and sitting up on his hospital bed. Regrettably, I wasn’t the first face he saw. But it doesn’t matter, nothing matters, not at all. Peeta’s eyes meet with mine and suddenly nothing else exists on this entire planet. Nothing else in this world.

“Peeta,” I repeat with a sob, my vision blurring. I rush towards him, and he sweeps his doctors aside. He’s so thin, and his face is so sharp. But he’s still my boy, the boy with the bread.

He grasps me, crushing me into his chest and whatever was left of my composure evaporates. Nothing holds the walls of emotions, of suppression after suppression, back any longer. My knees soften, and my hands claw at his back, greedily feeling him, ensuring his solidity.

Peeta’s hands are still big and heavy. They feel amazing on my back and my shoulders. I can feel him gasping against my neck, and the tickling of his breath feels like home.

“Is this real?” he whispers with his mouth pressed against my ear. “Are you here?”

“Yes,” I reassure him. “I’m here.”

“I missed you,” there’s a weight to his words, a reverence.

“Me too, a lot.” I choke and smile around my tears. There won’t ever be enough words to tell him. “So much.”

“They said you were dead, but I knew.” He confesses. “I knew.”

I nod. Yes. There’s a desperation in me borne from his complete understanding. “I knew too. I always knew.”

Peeta pulls away from me then, and I can see his face has broken into an emotional smile. He cups my jaw, and when his lips graze mine, everything is okay again. I can breathe, I’m alive.

I stretch up onto my toes, chasing after him. My arms encircle him. I never want to let go. His tears mix with mine on my cheeks, and we kiss. We kiss and we kiss, and we kiss. My tongue sweeps across his bottom lip and the metallic taste of blood fills my mouth, but we don’t stop. His fingers slip into my hair, and his touch lights me up.

His fingers tug too harshly against my hair and I reflexively pull back. He’s shut his eyes tight, his body suddenly tensed. My hands fly up to his shoulders, fluttering in search for injury.

“Peeta, are you okay?”

He doesn’t answer. To my alarm, he starts hitting the sides of his head with his firsts. “Peeta,” I repeat, pulling at his wrists, but he’s stronger than me. “Stop!”

“Katniss,” Haymitch says, taking me by the shoulder but I can shake him off easily, his heart isn’t really in it. “What do they pay ya’ll for? To stare? Help the kid!”

A nurse reaches out to Peeta, but he cowers away, like a frightened child. He folds in on himself on the ground, hiding his face behind his knees, and tugs on his own hair. I drop to my knees and crawl towards him, slapping away the nurses’ hands when she tries to reach out to him again.

“Peeta?” I ask, placing my hands on his knees. “It’s me, Katniss. Where are you? Did you go away?”

“Don’t,” He flinches away from my touch, leaving my hands hovering midair.

I look helplessly over my shoulder to Haymitch, but he looks just as lost as I am. I look back at Peeta, “I—”

A Doctor kneels beside me. She puts her hand on my shoulder, and I fall silent. “Peeta, I’m Dr. Amaltha, I work here at the hospital in District Thirteen. Your friends and I have been waiting a long time to see you. You’re safe. Would it be okay if I touched your knee?”

Peeta stills, a single blue eye peaking through his shaggy hair, “No touching.”

“That’s okay, we’re just a little worried about you, is all.” The Doctor offers him a smile. “Are you in any pain?”

“I’m fine,” he says curtly but reconsiders. “I can manage.”

“I know you can, but if you’re in any pain I can patch you up and you’ll be all better.” She inches ever so slowly closer to him. “Wouldn’t it be nice to go home with Katniss?”

“Home?” he asks.

“That’s right,” she reassures. “Once we check you for injuries, you can go with your friends.”

“No more hospital?”

“None.”

He slowly raises his head. He eyes the doctor uneasily for a moment before moving his gaze towards me. I try to rearrange my features into something less worried but I’m sure I fail. His eyes return to the doctor, “alright.”

She crawls closer to him still and Peeta bumps his head against the wall trying to get away from her. She smiles and he grimaces in return, but he allows her to check his pulse anyway.

“That’s a little fast.” The doctor comments, “Take a few deep breaths for me?”

Peeta complies. After some more goading from Dr. Amaltha he stands and allows her to check him for broken bones. He lets them take his blood pressure, and his shine lights in his eyes with no issues. He puts up a bit of a fuss over the blood work, so they let it go for now, asking instead if he’d let them take an x-ray just to be sure about his bones.

“No machines,” Peeta says insistently.