#greasy sae granddaughter

[notsocooljess]

i think my favorite not-explored-enough detail from Mockingjay is how after Katniss breaks down when she is reunited with Buttercup, she falls asleep on her sitting room floor but later wakes up in her bed.

i just imagine Peeta tagging along with Greasy Sae and her granddaughter to eat with Katniss for dinner, and they walk inside and see her laying on the floor, unconscious, her features red and puffy from crying. they see Buttercup curled up near her (but not next to her, since he’s still a little weary from the thrown pillows). the two of them exchange a brief look, and with no words said, Greasy Sae offers Peeta a nod and walks herself and her granddaughter home.

Peeta steps closer to her, noticing that she washed herself and changed her clothes from when he saw her earlier in the day. he silently studied her features. then, as gently as he can, he scoops her up into his arms and carries her upstairs to her room with Buttercup, awoken from the movement, trodding at his feet. he tucks her into bed, wanting to stay but knowing he shouldn’t. he gives her hand a gentle squeeze and goes home.

the next morning, he and Sae show up for breakfast. they don’t mention how her face looks puffy from fresh tears. they know this means she’s finally trying to heal.

[heavensbeehall]

"Mockingjay", Chapter 27

Part 3: The Assassin

Chapter 27: Snow laughs. Katniss is now "the assassin" of Panem's President, finally. She says goodnight to the bow and prepares to kill herself, but Peeta stops her. Gale doesn't shoot her. She is imprisoned in the Triaining Center. She tries to kill herself but morphling withdrawl stops her. She starts singing. She doesn't die. Haymitch comes to take her home. Plutarch is in the Hovercraft. Haymitch is now her guardian apparently because her mother isn't coming back to 12. Greasy Sae feeds her. Time is a mystery in this chapter. Peeta returns. He's got primroses. Madge is dead. But Buttercup is alive. More stuff happens. Peeta and Katniss fuck.

Thoughts:

-- This chapter is weirdly impressionistic and I don't really like how quickly it goes sometimes. Time slips by. The only other chapter like this--that covers so much time in one go--is the Reaping in Catching Fire, which also covers several weeks, I think. This is more time than that though.

-- So this is when Lucy Gray makes her full return, in the form of song. The same chapter that Snow dies. I do not think that is a coincidence.

-- Greasy Sae is an interesting character. She's first mentioned in the first chapter of the first book, and she returns for the final one. She's not very important in the middle though. I mean it says she raised money for Katniss and Peeta in the arena and she makes in to 13, but she doesn't get any real story or backstory. How come she has a granddaughter but doesn't seem to have a child?

-- Plutarch seems happy. He has won. Everything went the way he planned, apparently. And he seems to live in his own world a bit, because he laughs at his own jokes and is happy when so many people are dead. Is that what is needed in a Gamemaker?

-- Buttercup is Katniss, right? Like he only likes Prim and is all beat up and scraggly? She also made it all the way back from 13, in a way.

Quotes:

“Let me go!” I snarl at him, trying to wrest my arm from his grasp.

“I can't,” he says. 

D:

I no longer feel any allegiance to these monsters called human beings, despise being one myself. 

Like Tigris?

I strip, and flakes of skin the size of playing cards cling to the garments. 

This bit always freaks me out. PLAYING CARDS? That's really big!

That what I need to survive is not Gale's fire, kindled with rage and hatred.

I feel like this is a fairly harsh burn for Gale (no pun intended). "Rage" and "hatred" are strong words though I guess it's technically true given his rants about the Capitol. But you could also say "survival" and "family" though?

[briarlovesginny]

“Real.”

!!spoilers for hunger games: mockingjay!!

cw// grief, grief processing, trauma responses/panic, not knowing what’s real

(this is based off of the book series and is pre-relationship everlark hurt/comfort)

It only takes a week of making the book before Peeta remembers. 

Katniss had been staring at him, barely paying attention-- she was too busy marveling at how the light reflected off of some hairs but shone through others-- when all of a sudden the pen is dropped, ink gushing out of the tip as it burst on the parchment. She jumped backwards, preparing for an attack, only to see Peeta shaking so violently he looked like he was in an earthquake. 

“Peeta?” She asked, reaching out to touch him, but he was far beyond hearing her. His eyes were open and shining, and his arms were out in front of him like they were still cuffed. She had seen him do it before, the rocking motion of his hands as if to soothe himself, but never this violently. “Peeta!”

She wasn’t sure if it was the right idea or not, but she grabbed his arm and, when that did nothing, threw both of hers around his body. She felt him jerk slightly, and after a minute or two, his breathing started to slow down. 

“Peeta?” The mumbled softly into the back of his shoulder. “What is it?” Gently, she pulled away, but Peeta grabbed her hands with his as he turned to face her. His cheeks were red and splotchy now, tears streaming down his face as he gulped for words. 

“Finnick.” He said, tentatively, as if he was afraid of the answer, “He died, in the Capitol, from the mutts. Real or not real?”

Katniss’s heart crashed in her chest, and judging by Peeta’s reaction, so did her face. He let out a low whine, beginning to shake harder, but she knew she had to answer him.

“Real.” She said, clear but quiet, and a loud sob burst out of her. She loathed this-- loathed that she was crying when Peeta needed her, loathed that she was this weak, that she couldn’t hold it together for her friend, but once she started, she couldn’t stop herself. 

Her grief came in waves-- after her return to 12, it had been a morning routine, but with gentle hugs from Greasy Sae’s granddaughter and warm bowls of soup from the woman herself, she was usually able to make it days at a time without a breakdown. 

“Humans,” Peeta choked out, “humans are supposed to feel pain this deeply. This is what grief is.” Katniss threw herself forward again, this time wrapping her arms around his solid, warm torso itself, and felt him mirror her. Her hands clenched his back, and she felt his press against her shoulder blades. She let out a shaky sigh and a small laugh before continuing. 

“Real.”

[everlarkism]

how about a prompt where katniss does not begin to care for herself again after peeta returns to 12 at the end of mockingjay and after a few days he is desperate to help her so he takes her upstairs and gives her a bath? make as intimate or not as u plez

I am so happy a lot of you are sending them in. Other prompts will be posted when I have the time to write and upload them. Don’t worry, I didn’t forget about anyone’s! I’ve decided to try first person with this. I don’t do that often. Excuse any typos or if this is all over the place, I started typing this up at like 5AM since I was so excited to write something wholesome. It’s kind of rushed too, so it’s not my best work. Enjoy!

I know he doesn’t like seeing me like this. He never liked seeing me upset, period. But I’m not upset, I’m depressed and he obviously knows it.

Returning to Twelve was a blessing and a curse. It’s a relief that I came back to the place I call home, but it’ll never be the same. The Victors Village was still intact, but everything else had to be built again. My childhood home is demolished. Primrose is dead. Mom moved to another district, so did Gale. Haymitch was here and so was Greasy Sae who would frequently check up on me before Peeta’s arrival. That woman would even drag her young granddaughter along… I’m aware Sae wanted to help, but I don’t like feeling as if I’m a burden to anyone.

I’m a fighter, I’ve been doing this for years. Why should I let anyone help me now? I can do this all by—

“Katniss.”

I’m quiet as I sit on the couch, running my fingertips against the cushion to ease my nervousness. I’ve been avoiding eye contact with Peeta from the moment he walked inside. It’s been around two weeks since he came back from the Capitol, and I’m surprised he’s not like me.

Distant. Suicidal. Neglecting basic needs. Hasn't stepped foot outside in days.

Maybe it’s the therapy, Haymitch told me about it a day or two after he arrived. But that doesn’t mean he’s magically cured, or whatever. Peeta’s bound to have his episodes, regardless of how much treatments he’s had. At least they’ll be manageable. I know I should be doing therapy but I’ve been avoiding Dr. Aurelius at all costs.

“Katniss…” Peeta calls out again.

A heavy sigh escapes my lips as I lift my head. He didn't need my reply to continue talking, all he wanted me to do was look at him.

“You can’t stay in the house forever.” He said, taking a step closer and gesturing to the couch,”You don’t move from that spot either. Come on, you have to do something.”

I furrowed my eyebrows and shook my head,”No, I don't. I’m fine with what I’m doing.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s healthy… We can start small, okay?”

“We?” I repeat.

“Yes, we’re doing this together.” He nods,”Because-”

I cut him off, deciding to finish the sentence,“That’s what you and I do. Protect each other.”

A smile can’t help but to form on my face. He remembered.

“And that’s what we’ll continue doing.” He replied, making his way over to the couch and sitting beside me. His hand reaches over and rests on top of mine. “I care about you, Katniss and I want to be here for you in any way that I can… If you let me.”

Silence lingers between us for a few moments, until I finally make up my mind. I can’t push him away, we both know that - he would continue to try and help me anyways. “Okay, I’ll allow it.”

He leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. “I’ll run you a bath, go eat something if you haven’t already.” Without another word, Peeta stood and walked upstairs to the bathroom.

There was already an urge to say something, to forget the whole idea and tell him I could run my own bath if I needed to… But we both know I wouldn’t. If he didn’t show up, I’d still be on this sofa, reeking of body odor and starving.

I sigh, pushing myself up from the couch and making my way into the kitchen. Buttercup was there, munching at the food in the metal bowl. Once the cat noticed my presence, he meowed.

“Yeah, I know. I have to eat too.” I roll my eyes. Cats can’t talk, obviously - but I swear Buttercup knows what goes on and scolds me.

I walk to the cabinets and decide on making a sandwich. It’s better than nothing. I slather peanut butter and jelly onto the two slices of bread then sit down to eat.

I took my time with eating, since it takes the tub a while to fill up. After I’m done, I head upstairs and as I’m making my way down the hall - the water is being shut off.

I lean in the doorway with my arms crossed over my chest, watching Peeta stand from the crouching position. He’s a bit awkward at times, but it isn't his fault. The prosthetic leg tends to make things more difficult. Over the years, he’s been better with it. When he turned around, he gasped and took a step backwards. I couldn’t help but to chuckle, I didn't mean to scare him.

“Sorry.” I mumble.

“It’s okay. I was going to come get you, but you’re here now.” He lets out a small laugh.

“Thank you, by the way.” I reply as I move past him. I looked over to the bathtub, and not only was it filled with water but there were bubbles too. “Seriously, bubbles?”

Peeta shrugs,”What? It might cheer you up a little.”

He was right. Peeta always knew what to do or say so I could feel better.

I remain silent and stare at the bathtub. I was drained as it is, even making a sandwich was hard enough. I bit the inside of my cheek before refocusing my gaze onto the blond boy. “Could you help me? Unless, that’s weird– I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, or anything.”

I blurted out the last sentence, since I was on edge. I didn’t want to make this weird for either of us.

“I promise, it’s not.” He shakes his head,”I don’t mind.”

He continued to reassure me as he helped me undress. Once the last piece of clothing comes off, I quickly get into the tub as Peeta looks away. I caught a glimpse of his face and it’s obvious that he’s blushing. To be fair, we were both nervous… I’ve only seen his body once, in the first Games by the river. That was it. Him, on the other hand, hasn’t seen my body at all.

I just wish he didn’t have to see my body like this - the scars, the skin grafts, the damage done after all of these years. I look more like a mutt than a human being. Hell, I look worse than him. However, that’s another thing we have in common now: Earning scars that will tell a story of how we got here.

The water was warm, it even smelled of lavender. He must’ve found the oils in the cabinet. I never bothered with messing with those. Luckily they’re being put to use now. Slowly, I leaned back and sunk down into the water until it was to my collarbone. My eyes flutter shut as I dwell in the moment. “This is nice.” I whisper.

When I sit up, that’s when Peeta rolls up his sleeves and kneels near the tub to reach for the shampoo bottle. He put a small amount into his hand and began to run his fingers through my long locks. My hair isn’t in the best condition, thankfully not matted as it used to be but it still has some bad knots. He’s gentle, taking his time with applying the shampoo and rinsing it out. I swear Peeta even hums a tune while doing so. A giggle escaped from me and he paused.

“What?” He furrowed his brows.

I shake my head with a grin,”Nothing.”

Next was the conditioner and as it sat in my hair, we moved onto bathing. He already has the cloth, so I hand him the bar of soap.

“I feel like a child… Maybe, I should’ve done this myself.” I admit with a laugh as he starts to clean my face and behind my ears.

“There's nothing wrong with asking for help.” He chuckled,”I don’t mind, Katniss.”

“But Peeta, I just feel like-”

He replies before I could even finish my sentence. “No, you’re not a burden. This isn’t a chore to me, either. I want to be here for you.” Using his free hand, he manages to pick up a small amount of bubbles and place it on my nose,”Even if it means giving you a bath.”

“Hey!” I exclaim, wiping them off with a smile.

“That’s what you get.” He teased me.

“Don’t make me splash you.”

“You wouldn’t.” He rolls his eyes playfully.

“Oh, but I would!” I pretend to get ready to splash Peeta and he leans back instantly. I can’t help but burst out in laughter. “You should’ve seen your face.”

He laughs along with me,”I seriously thought you were going to do it.”

After the little trick I pulled, he continued to bathe me with the washcloth. Every once and a while, I’d threaten to splash him again or pull him into the tub with me. Peeta got his so-called payback by splashing me instead… As if I'm already not covered in water.

When our antics come to an end, Peeta rinses my hair and I step out of the tub, soon wrapped in a towel he brought me.

“You reek of lavender.”

“Better than body odor.” I giggle.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Peeta chuckles. “Now, let’s go get you dressed, shall we? Maybe I could try braiding your hair?”

“You, braiding my hair? In your dreams.”

“Fine, but one day - you’ll have to teach me… Deal?”

“Deal.”

[ao3feed-everlark]

Blooming in the Spring

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/XkrR9iq

by morgswrites

I am empty and want nothing more than to drown it all out--all of the fear, the guilt. The guilt. There is so much of it, all the time. Guilt for those I've killed. For those who I could not save. They haunt me every second of every day, always there, always in the back of my mind clawing their way forward. Today, it is Finnick. Yesterday, Cinna. The day before that, Castor. Prim. Always Prim.

~

In the months following the fall of the Panem's Capitol, Katniss Everdeen is continuing to fight a battle-this time against herself. After surviving two Hunger Games and leading a revolution, losing countless loved ones along the way, Katniss is forced to learn how to live on with her trauma and how to navigate a new life with the boy that saved her life.

~

An after Mockingjay fanfiction.

Based on The Hunger Games trilogy written by Suzanne Collins, who owns all original characters and plot lines.

Also can be found on Wattpad.

Words: 15191, Chapters: 7/7, Language: English

Fandoms: The Hunger Games (Movies), Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Characters: Katniss Everdeen, Peeta Mellark, Haymitch Abernathy, Greasy Sae (Hunger Games), Greasy Sae's Granddaughter (Hunger Games), Effie Trinket, Mrs. Everdeen (Hunger Games), Gale Hawthorne

Relationships: Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark

Additional Tags: Inspired by The Hunger Games

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/XkrR9iq

[mega-aulover]

Lucy Gray Baird - an innocent victim or a manipulator?

What's your first impression of Lucy Gray?

Do you think she loved Coriolanus in tbosas?

What do you think might have happened to Lucy Gray in the end?

What's your opinion about theories :

1. Greasy Sae as Lucy Gray.

2. Coin as a daughter or relative of Lucy Gray.

Thank you :)

@curiousnonny

Oh @curiousnonny So excited for this question. Okay so...

Lucy Gray is not exactly an innocent. She is a performer she understands how sway an audience. I do love Lucy b/c she carries within her the fire that the people of the Seam carried within them.

They like to dance and party. We see that in District Thirteen in the books. I do think Lucy believed Snow while in the Capitol. She needed him, much like Peeta believed Katniss when in the Arena. However do I think she tried to play every angle to get out, of course. Did she like Coryo - yeah he's handsome, and flirtatious. I do not think she thought that she would see him again after the Games.

Oddly enough if not for Coryo Lucy wouldn't have survived. She would have died, by the hands of one of the Tributes.

Now the part I LOVEEEEEE!!

Greasy Sae as Lucy Gray….SHUT THE FRONT DOOR! I never ever thought of this. But it would make sense because she would be the oldest person in the district. She has a grandchild and it does make me curious as to why she's so interested in taking care of Katniss - it would be awesome to think that Greasy /Lucy survived Snow…

Coin as a daughter or relative of Lucy Gray...this is the one I tend to lean into...b/c it explains why Coin knew to rescue District Twelve refugees. She was possibly monitoring D12. Also explains why Coin was motivated to get rid of Snow. And why she wanted to make the Capitol Children go through the Hunger Games. Maybe she wanted Snow's granddaughter to go through what her mother went through. I can see Coin as being revengeful. Katniss embarrassed her by making her do the Mockingjay accord and say in front of everyone. Boggs knew enough not to trust her, even though he was one of the highest ranked officers. He warned Katniss - it explains so much!

[ears-awake-eyes-opened]

The better to taste you with, sweetheart

(Hayffie trick-or-treat 🧡 🔥 NSFW. Sexual content. Thanks @chocolateshipcookieblog for the prompt. This fic is a bit all over the place, but so is Halloween, so I just went with what came up. District 12 started feeling a little like Stars Hollow, so I kind of embraced that too. Now I can’t look at a lollipop without picturing it in Effie’s mouth, and I’m not complaining 🍭. Writing this was fun and touching.)

***

A fire burned in a wood stove in the corner of the Hob where people gathered for the town hall meeting. The large brick building held the chill of early autumn. Effie shivered, regretting her decision to wear only a sweater rather than a coat. She huddled close to Peeta. Sae’s granddaughter held Effie’s hand in a childlike way, swinging her arm periodically. Effie didn’t mind the connection with the unusual woman who was her neighbor now. That evening she appreciated the warmth of her hand.

“I told ‘em they were buildin’ this place too big,” Greasy Sae said matter-of-factly, not caring if the mayor or anyone in particular heard her or not. “A body gets cold in here no matter the size of the crowd.”

“Sure beats the heat in summer,” a man behind them said.

Effie peered over her shoulder and recognized him as one of the spice traders. “Spice” was a term used loosely in 12 to refer to dried roots, stems, bulbs, barks, and herbs, including tabacco and cannabis.

“Summer gets real hot.” He glanced at Effie from her forehead to her shoulders, then his eyes shot back up without gazing further. It was a look she knew well now. In 12, no one in his right mind stared wantonly at Haymitch’s girl, at least not openly, even when they were drunk or stoned.

The town hall had drawn a decent size crowd. More folks started showing up at those meetings once the council stopped hosting them every month and switched to quarterly. The people of each district had representatives and a governor, but those positions dealt with broad political issues, leaving local issues to be facilitated by a mayor and a town council.

It was Effie’s first autumn since letting go of her apartment in the Capitol, and Peeta was a dear to be joining her that night since she hadn’t wanted to go alone. She figured the only way she’d stop feeling like an outsider in 12 was to walk the line awhile between being present and being nonintrusive. She had a lifetime of experience walking lines much finer and more perilous than that one, so the task suited her.

The Hob filled with the fragrance of coffee brewing. People in attendance sipped mugs of it and devoured the muffins Peeta brought, baked with fruit from pawpaw trees. Katniss had encountered a grove of them in the woods. The fruit dropped in late summer and early fall, and Katniss gathered up what she found after hunts.

The mayor called the meeting to order and proceeded with the usual agenda: reconstruction updates, old business, new business, and so on. Effie was fairly bored until some new business sparked her interest.

“Since last year’s revival of All Hallows’ Eve was well received,” the mayor said, “The council invites all to attend this year’s festivities which will be held on the last night of October. We’ll have a bonfire again at the meadow’s edge to honor the departed. In the first two hours after sunset, everyone is encouraged to participate in the ancient tradition of guising.”

“Guising?” Effie murmured the question to Peeta.

He whispered back, “Dressing up in costume — mostly creatures from old stories. And going door to door after dark for treats — sweet foods, coins for children, liquor for adults.”

Costumes, sweets, money, alcohol... that sounded to Effie like regular living in the old days of the Capitol. But this tradition, one night each year under the cover of darkness, was something unique. In the Capitol they’d only celebrated national holidays.

The mayor continued, “Spread the word... anyone planning to offer treats, please remember to light a lantern or a candle on your doorstep in order to avoid the — confusion — we had last year.”

“Confusion?” Effie quietly asked Peeta again.

“Pranks on people who were home but not answering their doors: knocking late into the night, tossing a few eggs at windows, minor mischief.”

Effie could guess who probably refused to answer his door. This year that was going to change if she had anything to say about it, which of course she did.

***

On the last evening in October, Haymitch slouched on the sofa in front of a fire with his feet propped up on the coffee table. The flames burned low, but he felt too lazy to add another log. He reached instead for his glass of whiskey.

He could already hear people gathering near the meadow. Bonfire, music, dancing... traditions to honor the dead. Folks were saying that a long time ago All Hallows’ Eve was celebrated as some “sacred” night when the “veil between worlds” is thin and the dead are close. Katniss had a few memories of her father telling *ghost* stories that his mother used to sing about. The old lady had been a strange one for sure. To Haymitch it all seemed like load of horse shit since “dead” meant decayed to bones, then nothing and gone forever.

“Traditions” for Haymitch had always meant the ones that happened under Snow’s control. Reaping Day had been the big “holiday.” Work paused and citizens dressed up. Those were government orders. Eventually people shamed their neighbors who didn’t stop working and didn’t wear nice clothes. They no longer needed government to do the punishing about not following traditions because people did it to each other. Families whose children didn’t get reaped celebrated quietly, behind closed doors, reserving special food for the occasion if they could afford to do so. *Holiday traditions* didn’t sit well with Haymitch.

“Manners!” Effie scolded as she approached from the kitchen and saw his bare feet on the coffee table.

“Loosen your corset. There’s a coaster right here.” He said it without looking at her.

Not wanting to start an argument just then, she bit her tongue as she moved toward the fireplace. “I’m not wearing a corset tonight.”

His peripheral vision caught a flash of red, and he turned to watch her. She wore a velvet cloak buttoned down the front. She pulled off a long satin glove before grabbing a log to throw on the fire.

His eyes passed over her from head to toe then back up again. “What’s this?” he asked, with a smile on his face.

She slipped her glove back on and confronted him with her hands on her hips. The hood of her cloak was pulled up, and her hair peeked from beneath, framing her face in blonde curls. Her makeup was light, apart from her lipstick which was as crimson as blood.

“My costume, for guising.”

His expression was a mix of intrigue, amusement, and irritation.

“I told you weeks ago that we’re going, and I mean it! Posy’s already on her way over here. I’m paying that girl a small fortune to hand out cookies and quarters and whiskey, so Hazelle doesn’t have to wash dried egg off YOUR window panes tomorrow like Peeta said she had to do last year.”

“Whiskey?! I didn’t agree to give out liquor to freeloaders.”

“Everyone is doing it. You’ll be receiving as much as you’re giving away.” Effie sat beside him on the couch, crossing her legs so the cloak parted near the fur-lined hem where she’d left a couple of buttons unfastened. Above knee-high boots, her thighs were covered in lace stockings.

“You’ll be wearing that?” His mouth watered for treats other than food and drink.

“All evening.”

He reached out to her thigh, but she smacked his hand before he could touch her.

“What the hell!” He sat up straight, aroused by the sting of the slap as much as by her appearance.

“You get to touch me when we’re out of the house, not before!”

“That’s extortion.”

“That’s PATIENCE... and holiday spirit!” She softened the blow by adding, “...I’ll be touching you too — if you want.”

Yeah, I want. “No corset? Hmmm. So what are you wearing under that cloak?”

“You’ll see tonight — after we visit everyone, and we’re home.”

“That’s more extortion!”

“That’s more patience.”

“And what am I supposed to wear?”

“It doesn’t matter, honey. With me dressed like this, they’re not going to be looking at you.”

***

Twilight was fading, and the last trace of blue drained from the sky. Effie had never seen more stars than she did when looking up from the clearings of 12. She slipped a flat round disk of hard candy from a wax paper sleeve and held it up by its wooden stick.

“Shine the lantern on it,” she directed, “I want to see the color.”

The lantern swung casually at Haymitch’s side. He didn’t lift it up. “Why’d you insist on us bringing this thing when we could each be using a flashlight? Or better yet, sitting at home where there’s electricity. Or lying in bed pretending we’re not home.”

“If we’re in bed, then people coming to the door are going to know we’re home. I wouldn’t be quiet, and you’d wind up smothering me with a pillow.”

“That sounds accurate.”

“Besides, where’s your sense of adventure?”

“Too dark to find it.”

“What’s too dark — the night or you?”

“Both.”

She stopped walking, and he followed suit. With him it was always easier to catch flies with honey. She slid the basket of gathered treats over her wrist. It was growing heavy with pastries, fresh and dried fruits, nuts, and confections like taffy from the sweet shop in the Hob.

She reached above the zipper of his coat and stroked the hollow between his collarbones. “I like the darkness in you.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere when I’m freezing my ass off.” Her fingertips were warm, red satin against his throat. The gloves stretched from her hands to her elbows. When she’d pulled them on earlier that evening, he wanted her to touch him right then.

“Let’s see...” She moved her hand away. When he was about to protest, she nestled her body against his and slipped her gloved fingers beneath his coat, into the back waistband of his pants. “Your ass is still here, and it’s not frozen.”

She teased his flesh without grasping, drawing him out with her, not home for sex. He felt the difference. If he wanted something now other than this “guising” nonsense, then he’d need to do some coaxing of his own.

He encircled her waist with one arm and murmured against her temple. “Why do you need a lantern when you can just taste the thing?”

With her hand in his pants, her mind started spinning things she wanted to taste. The heels of her boots brought her mouth up close to his. He smelled like the wool hat and sweater he’d dug out from the cedar chest, the ale they’d been given at the previous house, and bites of chocolate.

“What ‘thing’ would I be tasting?”

“That lollipop ...unless you have something else in mind.”

Even as she clenched the thin wooden dowel, she’d forgotten it. “A lick would be good...” She touched the tip of her tongue to the corner of his mouth. “...But maybe I’ll need to suck on it awhile.”

Reluctantly she slipped out from the warmth of him and pulled away, transferring the basket of treats back to her hand.

He lifted the lantern, otherwise it would have been too dark to watch her suck on that stick of candy, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to miss that.

She opened her mouth slowly and met the lollipop with her tongue, then lingered a moment before drawing the candy inside. She pursed her lips around the stick, and her cheeks sucked in. Her tongue moved side to side awhile, savoring the flavor. When she pulled the stick out, her lips were still puckered. The candy followed, glistening in the lantern light.

Her mouth turned up at the corners. “It’s okay to blink now,” she said.

He cleared his throat. “So how does it taste?”

“Find out for yourself.”

She held out the lollipop, but he didn’t take it. Instead he wrapped his hand, gloved in leather, around her satin-clad one. He tugged her toward him, and tasted her. She was sticky sweet, like white sugar sprinkled over warm berries.

The kiss sent the sweetness coursing through her. Her breath came out in a rush over his tongue. He felt it everywhere.

“Damn, Effie. Let’s go home. I wanna take off your cloak. I can hardly feel anything with these gloves on.”

He was tempting, but she steeled herself against temptation. “Not yet. We haven’t been to the mayor’s house or the bonfire.”

“The bonfire? Shit. You didn’t say anything about that.”

“It was implied.”

In the lantern light, she watched him scowl.

“Implied...” she leaned in again and murmured against his neck, “...Like the sex we’ll be having later. I didn’t say anything about doing that either, but you know we will.”

“Fine. ...While I’m waiting, feel free to keep sucking on that candy.”

Effie slid the basket over her wrist again, laced her fingers with his, and enticed him with the lollipop between her lips as they strolled on.

***

“Ah, what do you know! It’s Haymitch Abernathy, out on All Hallows’ Eve. Effie, you’ve accomplished a miracle.” The mayor poured them each a cupful of brandy.

“This is WONDERFUL, Taylor. It’s the council that’s accomplished a miracle.” Effie sipped the drink. The ability to make small talk with anyone was a long rehearsed part of her skill set.

“You are dazzling in red. Why don’t you wear that color more often?”

“I save it for special occasions.”

“Haymitch, who are you supposed to be? ...The woodcutter?”

“I’m pretending to be a nice guy.” He downed the brandy in a single gulp.

“Ah, a wolf in sheep’s clothing! Well, ‘nice guy’ looks much better on you than the *grumpy old man* costume you wore last year.”

“Very funny...”

Effie half-expected the words to be followed by a snide “sweetheart.”

The mayor dropped a brown paper package tied with blue ribbon into Effie’s basket of treats. “Fudge. From the sweet shop. After last year’s pumpkin explosion, I’ve sworn off baking.”

“When I visit Peeta or Sae’s kitchens, they make me sit on a stool and drink coffee.”

“That’s not a bad deal.”

“I agree.”

The mayor glanced around, then whispered, “Truth be told, I overcooked the pumpkin intentionally, figuring I’d be spared future requests for baked goods. But the explosion was a surprise.”

“My lips are sealed.” Effie finished her drink, and they handed the glasses back to the mayor.

“I’m heading to the bonfire. How about you two?”

“We were just about to—“ Effie started, but Haymitch interrupted with his hand on her back.

“—make another stop. Maybe we’ll see you later.”

***

“What other stop?” she asked when they were walking on the road again.

He slid his hand up her back and grasped the nape of her neck, caressing her through the velvet. “I didn’t get all *dressed up* tonight to spend time with the mayor. I wanna be with you.”

She wrapped her arm around him and hooked her thumb on his waistband. “I want to be with you too. It’s almost too bad there are people crawling all over town tonight.“

“Come here.” He lead her around the side of the Hob.

“I am NOT making out with you behind the dumpster!”

“Keep going. I know what you like and what you don’t.”

The back of the building was steeped in shadow. There were a couple of pallets stacked high with wood for the stoves. He lead her along the narrow passage between them to a spot sheltered under the eaves.

He took the basket from her hands and set it on the ground along with the flickering lantern. She smiled as she backed up against the brick wall. “Do you bring all the girls here?”

“Just you... Red.” He pulled off his gloves and dropped them beside the basket. “I’m done waiting to touch you.”

He held her hips and pulled her lightly against him. One hand shifted to the small of her back. The other brushed her bottom lip with his thumb. The crimson color lingered elsewhere now, on the rims of unwashed liquor glasses and a discarded lollipop stick. Her lips parted, naked and soft.

“I want this mouth on me.”

“Where, honey?” She was already inching down the zipper of his coat.

“You choose.”

She snuggled against his sweater. His body was warm and hard, and she immediately wanted more than what she felt was accessible in the shadow of the Hob.

Her hands touched him first before her mouth. Satin fingertips traced around his coat collar, pushing it low. She sucked the tendons on the side of his neck, up to his jaw and back. Then she bit down.

He flinched, groaning in a mix of pain and pleasure. He gripped her wrists, holding her against him rather than pushing her away. “Is that how you want to play this?”

“Uh huh,” she mumbled against his neck, kissing gently now. “I’m making some marks. Everybody in this town is treating me like I’m *yours*. If that’s how it’s going to be, they should know you’re mine too.”

“I haven’t been telling ‘em anything.”

“They know it just the same.” She plucked kisses like a rope around his throat, then bit him on the other side.

He let it all happen, anticipating the sensations, and flinching again. He nudged her against the wall, letting her feel what she was doing to his body. “You know, I can get you off right here,” he said.

The same force that spent a decade pulling her to 12 was tugging at her now. Everything inside her melted like that lollipop in a mouthful of hot brandy. The temptation was too much. “We have to be quick. Anyone might find us.”

“So what? If they see you fucking me, that’ll offer ‘em more clarity about us than you biting up my neck.”

“Haymitch, there are children!”

“So we’ll keep our clothes on and stay quiet... mostly. No kids are gonna be scarred — not even you, sweetheart.” He toyed with the top button of her cloak.

“How do YOU want to play this?” she asked.

“I wanna see you.” He unhooked the buttons, keeping his eyes fixed on hers, waiting to take in the sight of her all at once, whatever it might be.

After the last button was unfastened, she didn’t wait for him to open her cloak. She did it herself.

Damn... She’d been walking all over town wearing nothing under that thing except a white neglige and a thong. Both were made of some sheer fabric that hid little to nothing of her. The thin silk straps around her hips matched the ones over her shoulders.

“Effie...” He wanted her. Every bit of her. And he knew the thing that people had been thinking was true. She had him. Nothing was changing that, unless he drank himself to death, or she left him — whichever came first. Later, when more blood was flowing to his brain, he might be afraid of that awareness. But for now he was hers.

“Surprise.” She beamed. “You better come closer, or I’m going to be the one freezing my ass off.”

His arms went around her within the cloak, and he crushed her against him, taking in the sensations of her with his hands and mouth.

Her palms skimmed up his back under his shirt. “Closer...” she urged.

“You first.”

She’d spent a long portion of her life in gloves. Her fingers were nearly as dexterous within fabric as they were bare. She opened his pants and pulled his dick into her hands, working him between her palm and fingers. He thought about letting her make him come like that. But he wanted to be inside her.

His hands were warm when they slipped into her thong, bracketing her with fingers in her folds and spiraling just above. When he touched her, everything quickened. She stroked him with insistence and moved against his hands with rapid cadence.

Far too much noise was coming from her throat. “Where’s that pillow so I can smother you?” he teased.

“Just fuck me,” she pleaded, “Now before we’re arrested.”

He untangled his hands from her thong. She lifted one of her legs, and he hiked it up in the crook of his elbow, flattening his palm against the wall. The heels of her boots brought her up to a perfect height to fuck like this. She slid her thong to the side, and he dipped within her — plunging, stirring. She met his thrusts with her own.

He clutched her waist and pressed her against the bricks, commanding stillness. “Don’t move your hips.”

“What!” she huffed, “Fuck you, Haymitch! I’m so close.”

“PATIENCE,” he teased with her inflection in his voice, “Wait for it, and it’ll be better. You know I’m right.”

She knew.

He was close too. She was all satin and velvet inside and out. Her breasts brushed against his sweater. It was so much.

She was crying out, and “Shhh” was accomplishing nothing. He covered her mouth with his palm. His pinky pressed against her nostrils. She could breathe, but barely. They’d played this game before. Adrenaline surged through her body as she came undone. She clung to his neck as her thighs shook. Her whimpers passed through the closed slits between his fingers. Her eyes were wild in shadow, never leaving his.

“I know, honey. I’m right here... Oh, fuck. I know... Goddamn it... Effie...” He heard her name several times as he climaxed. He must have been the one saying it, since his hand was still covering her mouth.

When he let go of her, she sucked in the night air, still clutching his neck. She was high. So high like this.

“Are you okay?” He panted.

She caught her breath. “The mayor, Greasy Sae, the damn spice trader, they’re all right... I’m yours. I just am. It’s like breathing. Even when it’s hard to do, I’m still yours.” — It was the closest she would come to a declaration of love.

Her words moved through him like the music he heard in the distance. He was chuckling, not knowing exactly why. Release mostly. The lantern flickered near their feet. The hood of her cloak had slipped back, and her curls were stretching into wisps, fatigued like his body. She was so beautiful.

“I’m pretty sure my neck is bleeding now, so apparently that makes me yours too.”

“Oh...” Oxytocin was working its magic, and she filled with empathy. She pushed the coat off his shoulders so she could see. Her teeth marks were there, but no blood was dripping. She slapped his chest. “You’ll live.”

They pulled apart far enough to put themselves back into a semblance of order: readjusting, covering, zipping, and buttoning up. Then he held her until she was warm enough to move out again into the night.

***

They returned to the road, rather than cutting through the meadow. Yeah, “dead” meant decayed to bones, then nothing and gone forever, but Haymitch still didn’t want to be walking across a mass grave, no matter how thick the grasses were growing, no matter that flowers would pop up in spring.

Effie felt the energy of the evening diffusing. Sparks from the bonfire floated away on the breeze with red maple leaves. Haymitch carried her basket in the crook of his elbow where her leg had been settled a short while before. In that same hand he held the lantern. Both of her arms wrapped around his free one, the way he held her sometimes in sleep.

That night, children who had never known the Games wore their blankets around their shoulders to be heroes or over their heads to be ghosts. They cuddled their blankets in their arms as they grew tired and snuggled against their parents, or whoever they had left to love them. Effie’s Nana had held her like that, once upon a time. Many years passed before she experienced again that quality of feeling.

She squeezed Haymitch’s arm tighter, and her eyes filled with tears. If someone had asked her all the reasons why, she couldn’t have told them. Some emotions are too layered to translate into words on cards. They’re unexplainable to an audience of even one.

She paused. “Let’s go home.”

“No bonfire?”

“Not tonight.”

“Okay. Ain’t nothing there that you and I don’t already have right here.” — It was the closest he would come to a declaration of love.

Whether they were taking the path of pins or the path of needles was irrelevant. The thing they had — the one that drew him out and filled her up —was always leading them the same place.

“Let’s stop first at the kids’ porch.” Effie added, “Peeta told me he was dressing up in Katniss’s hunting jacket, and he was going to try to wrangle her into wearing one of his aprons.”

“That I’d like to see... But don’t go getting any ideas.”

“Don’t worry. I wouldn’t be caught dead in that hat of yours, and there’s no way I’m letting you borrow this cloak.”

“The mayor did say I look dazzling in red,” he joked.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to disappoint the mayor. ...I’ll let you wear my lipstick.”

“Only if you kiss it onto me then kiss it right off again.”

Some *traditions* might not be so bad after all.

[paintedpeeta]

Peeta keeping bakery prices as low as possible so that everyone can buy fresh food, Katniss and Peeta sneaking a cookie for every child that comes in, and of course, they always give free bread if they think that someone needs it ❤️

i really think they’d keep prices so low that it just covers the cost of ingredients and the running of the shop and nothing more. they’d probably be pretty taken care of financially as i’m sure there would be some sort of reparations paid to them (as well as the other victors) after the war or who knows, maybe they’d keep their victor’s salary which seemed to be a pretty significant amount from what we know of. and i think katniss would be pretty great with money, she’s sensible and frugal in all the right ways and would make sure they had something tucked away for a rainy day (i personally think she’d like to ensure her children are never faced with poverty, and so squirrelling away and saving for them would be a big part of her maternal love language)

and i just loooooveee how we all totally accept that peeta is extra liberal with freebies in the bakery, because it’s so on brand for him 💀 kids are handed an extra cookie or two along with their mother’s order for the week, an iced cupcake on special occasions like festivals and birthdays. usually offering his services for free when it comes to wedding cakes and other such ceremonial events.

and yes, taking care of those less fortunate always by giving an extra loaf of bread here and there. i can also see him handing in food parcels of sorts to struggling families, dropped on doorsteps to avoid any shame and containing items from the bakery as well as her hunts and other essentials they picked up in town. also delivering baskets of food to people who just need some extra help, like a mother who’d fine it difficult to go into town with a newborn or a local worker who got injured walking to his work in the morning. just little acts of kindness that mean a lot to the people they benefit, and of course katniss would be all about it too.

people like greasy sae and her granddaughter who never have to pay for a thing from the mellark’s, because they outright refuse to take it. peeta would be particularly grateful as she took care of katniss when she returned to 12, and so the old woman finds herself always well stocked with baked goods and fresh meat and handpicked berries.

[nerdyafbutonlysometimes]

On page 386 of Mockingjay Katniss Wales up in her bed after crying with buttercup over Prim. She fell asleep in the living room from what I can tell. So does that mean Haymich or Peeta came by to check on her and then carried her upstairs to her bed?

I mean personally I like to imagine Greasy Sae and her granddaughter lugging Katniss up the stair and hitting her head on the door frame. But you know, to each their own.

[katnissmellarkkk]

Did Greasy Sae have a last name???? Did her granddaughter have a name?

[savvylark]

Radiant-

An Everlark Drabble. This is how I imagine Katniss realizing she is truly happy post-mockingjay, after she’s had time to grieve, somewhat recover and find a new normal. @everlarkedalways had an ask about Katniss being truly happy, and I just so happened to be writing this. Also orgasms are good for your skin, sceptical? Look it up. ;)

In canon “growing back together” so Rated: E for smut. The amazing, talented @katnissdoesnotfollowback beta’d this, thank you! 😘😘

Frothy mint swirled in her mouth as Katniss swept her toothbrush over her teeth. Her gaze found the reflection in the mirror and she couldn’t fight the smile tugging on the corners of her mouth. Reflecting back, a woman who almost looked like a stranger. Katniss finished up her task and rinsed her toothbrush but took a moment to inspect what she saw in the mirror. Her gray eyes seemed to gleam in an ethereal way, an unbridled happiness she hadn’t known since she was a girl.

Smiles came easier to Katniss these day. The apples of her cheeks were fuller and healthier than when her cheekbones were sharp, visible from hunger. Her olive skin seemed to glow. Katniss didn’t have a terrible complexion, although the scars of her past would always remain. And blemishes would frequently come and go. This clear almost radiant skin was new. Katniss had to admit that she felt beautiful.

Katniss brushed out her long, glossy black locks and wondered if anything was different that could be attributed to her clearer complexion.

Katniss heard her mom’s voice in her mind recite questions she habitually asked her patients about changes in diet or habits. She searched her mind, recalling anything new as of late.

Her face grew warm and she tried to stifle her grin while her mind flooded with whispers and images of all the recent changes she had experienced. All of which Peeta Mellark was entirely to blame.

“You have the look of love about you, child.” Greasy Sea had remarked as she held Katniss in an embrace after dinner one evening two weeks ago. The sleeves of her favorite sweater bunched at Katniss’s elbows as she reciprocated the wise Seam woman’s affection.

Social dinners had become a habit in her Victor’s Village house. How could she possibly begin to thank someone who had been there for her when Katniss was so broken and alone? Making Greasy Sea and her granddaughter dinner once a week was a start. The woman had become the mother figure Katniss needed after the war. Sea had held Katniss’s face in her hands and offered a gentle reminder that it was safe to admit that the former Mockingjay wanted a life with Peeta.

All the heartache was in the past and they had grown together, beautifully. Friend. Victor. Enemy. Target. Mutt. Neighbor. Hunter. Tribute. The star-crossed victors had come to an impasse, they had grown past friends. Not yet lover’s. Katniss wasn’t terrified anymore but the fear of losing Peeta again after admitting she needed him still lingered.

That night, Greasy Sae’s words had nudged Katniss off the precipice. And when she asked Peeta to stay, for probably the hundredth time, she had a new intent. Her walls were coming down.

Weaving her hair into her usual braid, Katniss beamed back at her reflection. Strange bits of happiness. She bites her lip and and her eyes soften. The words Effie spoke to her on the train so many nights ago come to her mind could explain her glowing completion and maybe the shimmering silvery look in her once dull gray eyes.

Katniss had tried to sneak out of Peeta’s room unnoticed, but she was caught by Effie. “Well, I never! Honestly Katniss, have some decency, sharing a bed with a boy! It’s just not proper. Although… it’s a highly praised beauty secret,” Effie had paused and tilted the back of her hand over her mouth, whispering as if quoting a capitolite magazine secret. “A woman with regular well executed orgasms has a glow about her, and it works wonders for the skin. Having sex improves blood circulation, which helps to pump oxygen to your skin and make it brighter. It also helps to eliminate toxins and can actually make your lips a little fuller.”

At the time Katniss scowled at the district escort and blushed at the implication of what she was doing with Peeta in bed.

But Katniss’s response to the memory of Effie Trinket’s words was entirely different. Because the evidence is all over her face. She didn’t blush. She felt no shame, bit her lip to hold back a mischievous smile and tried to get a hold of her heavy breathing, toying with the tail of her braid.

Finally Katniss gave in to the urge to revel in the memory of Peeta’s hands and lips just the night before. Like two weeks ago and so many nights since, once she felt the hunger like on the beach in the Quarter Quell, Katniss let it overtake her.

“Oh Peeta!” She had gasped as his hot lips found the bud of her nipple, the things Peeta could do with his mouth and tongue blew Katniss’s mind. She arched into him as he sucked and nipped. His grip on her back pushed her closer while his free hand toyed with the lace of her panties. Katniss moaned as Peeta cupped the front of her and rubbed in lazy circles. When his thick fingers dipped under the lace and through her folds. She gasped and her eyes slid shut. Katniss felt Peeta’s wet kisses trickle down her belly while his fingers teased her hood with just the right amount of pressure until she was writhing and begging for more. When his kisses journeyed along her hip bone and inner thigh he took her breath away. Just when he reached the spot that ached to be touched, Peeta spat a curse. “You’re so wet, Katniss.”

Peeta dove in with more pressure, and Katniss hummed. His fingers were suddenly replaced by his mouth. She yelped at the first swipe of Peeta’s tongue and nervously turned away from him, clamping her legs shut.  

She was nervous, and surprised by how arousing this new experience felt.

Breathing in deeply Katniss took a minute to regain her composure. She sighed, her heart was still racing. Peeta’s hooded blue eyes and shy, boyish smile softened her resistance and he carefully read her face. Slowly and gently Peeta glided his rugged hands up her thighs.

Hands that had been through over a decade of baking, two hunger games, a war, severe torture, and burns that resembled her own from the City Circle. These hands protected her, held her through her worst nightmares. These hands that Katniss thought would never want to hold her, hug her, and love her again after his hijacking, were now opening her up and loving her in the most intimate ways. He opened her legs and gently caressed up and down the inner thigh, stoking the fire. Katniss grew more wet and more vulnerable. He kissed her hip bone and nipped the sensitive skin lower and lower, then his hot breath fanned over her most intimate parts.

“Katniss,” his voice low and husky, obliterating her hesitation, increasing her need. “I want to try something new, I’ll stop if you don’t want to. I just– I want to make you feel good. Do you trust me?”

She kissed his palm, her response a word that meant so much to both of them, “Always.”

Before she had finished her answer, Peeta lips and tongue were eagerly lapping her so intimately, taking great care to unravel her. She bit her lip and writhed. She struggled to stay quiet until Peeta told her, with glistening lips, that he didn’t what her to hold back. He wanted to hear every noise. Unhuman whines and groans escaped her mouth as fireworks sparked behind her eyelids. An electric current of pleasure ran from the source through her belly and out every limb, leaving Katniss, a panting, sated, exhausted mess.

She caught sight of Peeta’s face through hooded eyelids and he was grinning like the cat who ate the canary. He wiped his mouth and took her in his arms. She buried her face in his neck and wrapped her wobbly legs on either side of his hips as her breathing evened out.

“I love you.” Peeta whispered and Katniss felt hear heart soar out of her chest. Her lips greedily claimed his with an envigored passion.

Within minutes, their kisses grew heated. Katniss whipped off Peeta’s underwear, a barrier was put in place, and their bodies slid together. They were one. Katniss felt so full, so whole with Peeta inside her, she used her thighs and thrust her hips the create the delicious friction they both craved. She relished in the look on Peeta’s face when his jaw dropped and eyes rolled back. Whenever they made love like this she felt powerful and vulnerable at the same time.

Encouraged by Peeta’s reaction, as the hunger continued to build she chased after that feeling again. The new incredible feeling, satisfied hunger, the immense bliss. She craved it. Katniss lifted one of her legs higher to take him in deeper, she felt him hit a spot deep inside her that made her moan and caused her thighs to quiver.

She heard Peeta growl. He bit into her shoulder, and his breathing grew ragged. His response seemed to spur on her chase. She clenched Peeta inside her, the rhythm of her thrusts broke and grew lazy. She felt his thick fingers rub the nub inside her, sending a tidal wave of lighting and pleasure to wash over her. Wave after wave, she paid no attention to the sounds she made, as Peeta groaned and grunted her name in ecstasy and tightened his arm around her.

“What are you smiling about?” Peeta asked. Katniss jumped, so lost in her illicit memory that she didn’t hear his heavy footsteps.

Peeta’s eyebrows shot up as he flashed her a brilliant smile. His warm strong arms embraced her. Arms that were her only refuge from the cruel world for so long. Peeta’s warm lips brush her cheek. Her heart thumped faster in her chest.

“You, I guess.”

In response to her answer Peeta scooped her up in his arms as if she were a feather and flung her on their bed. Katniss laughed until she was cut off by his plump, delicious lips. Peeta’s addictive kisses consumed her. So intertwined, she wasn’t sure where she began and he ended. When she felt the hunger overtake her like a raging fire, Katniss happily surrendered again.

[readyfreddieforyourbullshit-blog]

Deep in the Meadow, Chapter 1.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Attempted suicide, torture, brainwashing, kidnapping, attempted murder, traumatic flashbacks, twelve year old writing, drinking, swearing, betrayal, and probably more stuff. (Yeah this isn't light hearted. At all.)

Plot: The boy she loves is basically gone, her sister is dead, with her best friend to blame, she's responsible for the death of hundreds. But somehow, she and Peeta learn to heal. But just as their nightmares start to cease, they come to life in the worst way possible.

A/N: Like I said, this was written by my twelve year old self, so is the writing the best? No. But I am kind of proud of this! Don't be too harsh, please. This was my first attempt at fanfiction. Please let me know what you think! I'm going to upload one chapter a week. Anyways, please enjoy!

We arrive in District twelve at night. The sun no longer there. The fire burned out.

I go straight to my home, Haymitch following me. When I get there, I lock the door behind me, and go straight to the kitchen. There has to be a knife in there. I hear another door open, but I know it's only Haymitch. Locking the door. drinking all of his remaining liqur. If there is any. I highly doubt it, but knowing Haymitch, he probably hid some incase a disaster was to happen, and he wouldn't have to be sober for once in his sorry lifetime. For instance, me and Peeta winning the Hunger games.

Peeta.

I haven't thought about Peeta in a long time. I wonder how he is, if the hijacking took over his mind after what I did. Probably so, and just as he was coming back too. The old Peeta, whose smile brightend the whole room, his hands, that could create such beautiful paintings, his words, used to heal. Not hurt.

I am attacked by racks of sobs. I cry and wail. I just can't help it.  I killed him. I killed Finnick. Prim. Madge, who had no reason to die other then being my friend. And now I've lost Gale. My friend. My hunting partner. The only one besides Peeta that I would allow to see the weak and defenceless side of me.

I know that the world would be better without me. Without a mad, murdoress girl. I make my way somehow to the kitchen, and find a butter knife. Not as sharp as I was hoping for, but enough that it would work. I start to put it up to my throat, when someone comes bursting in thru the door.

"Katniss?" Peeta. So, he's not gone over the bend yet. Good. I didn't kill him after all.

I start to drag the knife across my throat, when a terrible thought hits me. If he finds me in here, then he surely would go mad. no doubt about it. He would try to find me, and when he did, go completely insane. I will have to get him out of here, and try again when he leaves. But before I can even move, he's right there in the doorway, almost as if he expected me to be there.

"Katniss, what are you doing?!" He grabs the knife from me and throws it at the wall, causing it to pierce right into it. He kneels down onto the floor in front of me, and grabs my shoulders and starts shaking me. "Why did you do that?! Don't ever do that again! Do you hear me?! Ever! I can't lose you too!" His face is now red and puffy from crying. He holds me in his arms. rocking me back and forth. His sobbing dies down a little, but not much. "Do you know how many times I wake up from a nightmare telling myself 'not real'? Only to find you about to slit your throat?!" He grabs my face, and pulls me closer. "Don't ever let that be real. Please Katniss. I can't lose you too." His tears fall silently down his face. His blue eyes locking into my gray ones.

"Peeta, I can't-"

"Yes you can, Katniss. If you won't do it for me, do it for Prim." This strikes a chord in me. I bow my head in shame. Peeta puts his hand under my chin and tilts my head up. "Look at me."

I force myself to meet his gaze.

" I love you too much Katniss. Please make me this promise." I can't. I can't even lie to him. Not while he is in this state of weakness. "Do you remember in the Quarter Quell, how I told you nobody needed me, and you said you did? Katniss, no matter how much you think nobody needs you, you're wrong. Think about it. Your mother, Gale, me." I feel the tears welling in my eyes. "Katniss, if you die I will have nobody. I would rather die than lose you. Do you understand?" I nod my head. Peeta gives a slight smile. I fall into him, his arms wrapping around me. Even with Peetas warmth, I start shivering. "God, Katniss. What did they do to you?" I realize that this must be the thinnest he's ever seen me. Even when me and Prim were slowly starving to death, we weren't as thin as I am now. I scratch my throat and discover a small cut that the butter knife must have made. "Oh Katniss." He cradles me like an infant.

I must have fallen asleep, because when I woke up, I was in bed with Peeta laying next to me. His arms still wrapped around me. I look at him. He looks like he's at peace when he's asleep. Before I know what I'm doing I gently press my lips into his. I pull back when I feel him doing the same. His eyes open and he smiles. "Hey." I say as though I didn't just kiss him in his sleep.

"Hey. You're up early." Confused, I turn my head to my window facing opposite of me. And it turns out Peeta was right. It didn't look close to dawn, either. "Did you have a nightmare?" Peeta asks.

"Huh- oh! No! I...I think this is the first time that I didn't wake up from a nightmare."

"Mine too." Replies Peeta. He doesn't seem to want to know why I kissed him. "You kissed me, real or not real?" Never mind.

"Real." I admit. He wraps his arms around me. I gladly go into his warm embrace.

When I wake up again, I smell something. Cheese buns. Peeta knows they are my favorite. I walk downstairs into the kitchen and my suspicions were correct. Peeta from what I can tell is nowhere to be found, so I eat alone.

I think of last night. How did he get here in time to stop me? Did he hear me crying? If he did, then does that mean Haymitch did too? And if he did, why didn't he come here with Peeta? Was he so drunk he passed out, or did he just not care after almost two years? About a million questions run through my head, and even after almost an hour and a half, I still don't have a slightest clue. Like as to why Peeta was in District twelve, and what did he mean by 'I need you'? Could he have meant it in a non-lovers way like I did? Or was he just saying it in a moment of desperation? By noon I still don't know.

Greasy Sae comes at one to make me lunch with her granddaughter. She picked up one of my mothers blue yarn balls she used to knit with.

"Claire, put that down!" Greasy Sae yelled at the little red-headed girl, who seemed to like to live in her own little world. If my world wasn't so dark and terrifying, I might just join in on the idea.

"It's alright. She can have it." I tell greasy Sae. I eat my breakfast while greasy Sae watches me. Making sure I eat every last bite. No doubt told to by Haymitch or Plutarch. When they leave, I become aware of the fact that I smell terrible, so I take a shower. After about an hour of combing out my thin hair, I go to the kitchen to see what to do about the knife in the wall. I pull it out and look at the hole. It's not to big, so I could probably just put a table in front of it, and nobody would notice.

I go to the meadow later that day, and try and answer my question. Like how is it that I can survive over sixteen years of starvation, two Hunger games, a rebellion and yet not know anything about love, other than it's impossible! I groan in frustration.

Then I see it. The evening primrose. I look at it, afraid to touch it, like if I did I would set it on fire.

"Prim." I whisper softly. It's still a little cold in district twelve, so I notice that there's is some frost on it, left behind by the cold. I feel tears wealing up in my eyes as I touch the soft petal, watching the frost melt at my touch. I feel the tears starting to fall down my cheeks. "Prim." I say a little louder this time. I hear something 'meaw' behind me, and snap my head around to see what it was. Buttercup. Of course it's Prims stupid cat. "Go away." He hiss' at me. "Go. You won't find her here, so just GO!" I scream at him. I grab a thin stick that won't make a dent in him, but all I want is for him to just go away. "Prim is dead! Do you hear me, you stupid cat!?" I wave the stick around like a manic. But he doesn't run away. He just sat there, taking it. Along the way of me screaming Prims death he must of realized something terrible has happened, and starts giving his own animal crying. I fall to my knees and hands and try to catch my breath. Buttercup comes to me and rubs against me. But instead of pushing him away, I hold him as we cry. At dusk me and Buttercup make our way to my house, where when we get there we find a frantic Peeta. "Peeta?" I'm very confused as to why he's here.

"Katniss!" He holds me in his arms tightly while Buttercup goes off to find a place to sleep, and I don't blame him. He looks like he also has had a couple of sleepless weeks. "I thought you were dead! I didn't know where you were! Oh my god are you okay?!" He asks hysterical. I must still look like I've been crying and made him think something terrible has happened to me.

"I'm fine Peeta. I just went out to the meadow and...I found a primrose..and-" A look of understanding appears on his face, and he holds me in his arms and rock me gently. Murmuring that it's okay and he's still there for me. I pull away and look at him. "Thank you." I say softly. We both start leaning in and our lips have barley touched when the door opens with Haymitch stumbling in.

"Well sweetheart, looks like you're alive." He says as he takes a swing from a flask. So I was right about the alcohol.

"Yeah. I see you're as drunk as usual." I'm a little mad he came stumbling in on an important moment.

"I got it Haymitch." Peeta says after seeing the look in my eyes. Haymitch  grunts and turns to walk out saying

"Fine. I didn't wanna see you makin' babies anyway." and slams the door behind him. I look at Peeta and see what must be a mirror of my face. He has wide eyes and his face was an interesting shade of red, with his mouth partly open. We lock eyes for a moment and bust out laughing at how ridiculous we look. After our laughing fit we go to the kitchen.

"Peeta, why were you here? I mean, I thought greasy Sae was making me dinner." I ask him in confusion.

"Sae came to my door to tell me that she lost her granddaughter while shopping so she wanted to ask me if I could fill in, and I said 'yes'." He replied. I nodded and watched him for a while. After we ate, I asked Peeta a question that had been on my mind.

"Peeta, why did you come last night?" He sighs and thinks for a moment.

"I was sent here last week after you killed Coin for my safety. Or at least that's what they told me. I didn't care really, I just wanted to go home. They told me you and Haymitch were coming home that day and I wanted to see you. It was almost eleven by the time you got home, so I decided to wait until tomorrow. Then I heard screaming, and...I...I almost had an attack." I look at him. He looks like he's lost to the world, staring at the fire in the fire place.

"Peeta?" He looks at me, but not in the same caring way he did only a few moments ago. I try and move away, but his hands are around my throat before I can move. "P-Peeta." I can't breath. "P-Please. Peeta."

"Mutt!" He throws me away. I feel my head snap backwards and forward. I put a hand to my throat and cough while I try to get up, but I stumble and fall.

"Peeta..." I whisper as I drift into unconsciousness. Waiting for death to come from the boy with the bread.

A/N: Like I said, not the best writing in the world, but I'm still proud. Please reblog! Thank you for reading!

[ellanainthetardis]

Progress is made... Or is it? 

[ff] or [ao3)

Chapter 7 : An Understanding

The thing was… You couldn’t not like Greasy Sae.

It barely took two days for Sae to win Trinket over. He got up one morning, wandered to the kitchen trailer for his morning dose of coffee and found the two of them laughing together.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, half-expecting Trinket to run away like she had more or less being doing for days – weeks, really.

“You trying to climb on an elephant and landing in its droppings.” Effie deadpanned.

He choked on his cup of coffee and glared at Sae. “The fuck you’ve been telling her?”

“Relax, Haymitch…” Trinket grinned. “I find those childhood stories… endearing.”

That was the problem with someone who had known your mother before you were even born… They were never short of embarrassing stories and most of his new friends seemed eager to hear them.

Katniss, unexpectedly, took to the cook like a fish to water, her wariness around strangers apparently not applying to this particular case. Prim and Rue, on their ends, made sure Dorit, Sae’s granddaughter, felt welcome and soon had her helping out with the goats and the other animals. It didn’t take them long at all to find their place in the group.

Sae, of course, immediately adopted the crowd of kids in a blink and the old woman was soon a favorite, pampered and fussed upon by each of them. Even the workmen loved her and she kept them all in line, old crew and vets alike, with a firm hand and a scowl when necessary. It made Chaff’s work that much easier and Haymitch often teased him she should have been the foreman.  

Those days, Haymitch often mused as he watched the settling or the dismantling process, they were looking more like a real circus and less like ten people struggling to put a tent up.

It would have been great if the troupe cohesion had been there too but he forced himself to be patient about that and not so resentful that some of them had still not completely accepted him when they were so ready to welcome Sae or even Chaff.

Katniss, at least, had finally consented to let him teach her a few tricks.

That was what his mind was on that afternoon under the Big Top, as a few of them had claimed the space in the ring to rehearse. And, granted, since he was already waist deep in water, trapped in a huge fish tank that he had found in the odds and ends of a storage truck, he should maybe have been a little more focused on himself.

The water was cold and the chains were slippery. Later on, he would have weights on his feet that would make him sink and keep him at the bottom but for now he needed to build up his endurance because he wasn’t confident at all he could hold his breath long enough to get out of those chains. In the past, he might have, now…

“Add more water.” he ordered the kid who was standing on the ladder next to the tank. On the ground, Rue dutifully handed Prim the last bucket and, soon, he had water up to his neck. “Okay, you’re ready?”

His eyes swept around the ring one last time, aware that Marvel and Glimmer who were working a few feet away were watching him. So were Peeta and Gale, and Finnick was somewhere up there, playing with his trapezes and probably keeping an eye on him too. The safety net, at least, had been pulled out for training today.  

“Ready!” Rue called out, his old timer in her hand.

“Here goes nothing.” he muttered. “Go.”

And he dived underwater, reminding himself not to panic, to focus, and not to lose air with ridiculous unhelpful movements.

Those were the three rules to that sort of act: never panic, focus on your objective, don’t waste oxygen.

There were three locks to open. He was in the middle of taking care of the second one when Effie Trinket sauntered inside with an easy smile and a global greeting he couldn’t hear, shed her coat and stood there in nothing else than a neon-pink leotard.

Even through the grainy glass of the tank and the blurry water he could tell that the leotard might as well be a second skin. Then she sat down on the hay and spread her legs on either side of her body as if it was completely natural to break out into a split wearing only a leotard without warning innocent bystanders.

He might have gasped a little.

Which wasn’t a good thing when your head was underwater.

He immediately kicked his bound feet when the water went down the wrong pipe and his head shot out. His hands were already free so he grabbed the edge of the tank and pulled himself up, coughing and spitting out cold water, ignoring Rue’s and Prim’s anxious questions about his health.

Everyone under the Top was staring at him with concern but it was Effie’s gaze he sought. Had she done that on purpose? Walking around wearing next to nothing and taking poses just to…

To what?, a little voice at the back of his mind mocked, Make you drown? Get over yourself, man.

Effie, as it turned out, looked just as worried as everyone else but relaxed when he stopped coughing.

“Easy, there, Haymitch.” she called out. “We would not want to lose our ringleader.”

“Maybe warn a guy next time you wanna walk into a room half naked…” he shot back before thinking twice about it.

Her eyebrows shot up and she glanced around, too aware perhaps that they had an audience.

“And there I thought you were enjoying the view.” she deadpanned anyway, clearly unwilling to let him have the last word.

“A bit too much.” he snorted, not quite joking.

The way she flattened her body on the ground next when her legs were still spread on either side of her was simply provocative, he decided. It was lucky the water was so cold because his mind was very much fixated on how flexible she was.

“Behave.” she warned from her new position.

He bristled at the off-handed rebuke but with so many people watching, he couldn’t really reply to that like he wanted to. After all, he hadn’t started it.

The odd tension was broken by the creaking of the safety net when Finnick dropped on top of it from the tent’s heights. He didn’t look entirely happy and he hopped off to strut to Effie – he strutted everywhere, that boy was a peacock – and engaged her in conversation while she stretched. They were clearly discussing possible new figures so Haymitch grumpily went back to his own training.

He tried to focus on the locks and not on the various stretching positions Effie submitted her body to.

Once he was satisfied he could hold his breath long enough to get rid of three locks, he disappeared behind the bleachers to change into a dry shirt and pants and came back to help the girls put his material away.

Someone had turned on a radio by that point and cheerful upbeat music was filling the Big Top. A few of the others had drifted in and he wasn’t really sure who started it. He thought it might have been Prim dragging Katniss for a laugh but soon the girls were twisting and shaking, Thresh grabbed Rue and they were dancing too, then it was Marvel and Glimmer… When the first notes of something even upper-beat followed, Finnick jumped off his trapeze to bounce off the safety net and take hold of Annie who had been shyly clapping next to Johanna… Jo tugged Gale on without leaving him much choice in the matter…

When Haymitch felt a hand close around his, Peeta had cut in and stolen Katniss away from Prim and the girl had turned to Rue and Thresh.

He hadn’t seen Effie get down her perch up there but he shook his head even as she took hold of his other hand and started twisting and trying to force him to do the same.

“I don’t dance.” he told her.

For a second, she looked like she had been slapped and she tried to snatch her hands away but he found himself entwining their fingers to keep her there. It was the first time she had willingly approached him – friendly approached him – since what had – not – happened between them in his trailer and he was loathed to lose the contact.

“Never been good at it.” he clarified before she could misinterpret that by him not wanting to dance with her.

“Patently untrue.” she huffed, giving up on trying to get free. “I saw you lead the whole troupe in musical numbers.”

He rolled his eyes. “That’s different.”

“It really is not.” she dismissed with a cheerful laugh. “Follow my lead.”

“Don’t I always?” he mocked but let himself be convinced to emulate her movements.

The success of the endeavor was mitigated. He looked like a constipated chicken and she laughed so hard tears pooled in her eyes. He might have been vexed if she hadn’t been such a pretty sight, her cheeks flushed from the dancing, her eyes bright from the laughter and her body clad in that pink monstrosity of a leotard.

Naturally, because Haymitch’s luck was either fantastic or terrible depending on one’s perspective, the radio then sprouted out a slow dance. The girls, Tresh, Gale and Jo all opted to sit that one out but Peeta and Katniss and Annie and Finnick all gave it a go. Haymitch didn’t miss the jealous glance Gale gave the teenagers before storming out of the Big Top. He might have followed and tried to smooth ruffled feathers – maybe offer the boy a drink – if Effie’s arms hadn’t tentatively locked around his neck.

He placed his at the small of her back. The fabric seemed thin under his palms and she must have been freezing. It was with that thought in mind that he tugged her closer, so he could warm her up… At least that was what he told himself.

He pressed his cheek against the side of her head. Her blond curls were held back with a scarf again and his stubble caught a little on the silky fabric… He closed his eyes, let himself enjoy the moment… She tightened her hold a little, let out a soft sigh…

“We’re done fighting, sweetheart?” he whispered, low enough that the music would cover it and none of the kids would hear.

“Were we fighting?” she replied, a touch too detached to be genuine.

His hand ran up and down the bumpy line of her spine once but he didn’t go past the small of her back, mindful of the various kids sitting around, probably watching them. He might have otherwise.

“I’ve been an ass and you’ve been a bitch.” he shrugged.

“Language.” she chided automatically but her voice was hesitant. “Your behavior is… One moment you look at me like you are interested and the next…”

“I’m interested.” he sighed. “I’m very much interested. Thing is I’m not… I’ve been in that place before. Running a circus, living with my girl… Didn’t end well.”

“A bad break-up…” she started arguing, drawing back a little.

“She died.” he cut her off, maybe too harshly.

He saw the understanding dawning on her face. “The fire… Oh, Haymitch…”

“My family too. You probably know the story.” He scowled because he didn’t want her pity. “I ain’t… I don’t wanna get attached, Princess. Haven’t gotten attached to anyone in years and that works out for me. Sex is sex, I can deal with that. But feelings…” He spat the word out and then shook his head. “Ain’t you. ‘Cause you…” He licked his lips and averted his eyes, staring at Peeta and Katniss. The boy was blushing and Katniss was either oblivious or very gifted at playing coy – the first one, he would have bet. Young love. He remembered that. He remembered it so well. Love was dangerous though. Love crept up on you when you weren’t looking. Love knocked on your door wearing a red dress and if you weren’t careful it would swallow you whole. “Relationships ain’t my thing anymore. So, yeah… I like you and I’m… You’re fucking attractive and you know that… But…”

“But you do not wish to pursue anything serious.” she finished for him. She rested her head on his shoulder after a second. “I do not… I need to set an example for the girls. I cannot enter any promiscuous arrangement just because… And it would not be like me anyway. I… I had intimate relationships before but never any that weren’t… meaningful.”

“Got that.” he murmured. “That’s okay. We can… We can be friends, yeah? For real this time.”

“Friends who really want to sleep with each other?” she mocked but it was a little bitter.

“Friends who won’t break each other’s hearts ‘cause one of them is an old drunk who’s too broken to love you back like you deserve.” he countered carefully. “Wouldn’t even know how to anymore.”

The last part was, maybe, a little wistful.

“You are not old. You cannot be more than thirty.” she argued as if it was the most important thing there.  

He didn’t answer and they kept on swaying. If she noticed he tightened his embrace, she didn’t let on but, then again, she was pressing closer herself.

“Hey! You’re gonna stay like this all day or you’re coming to dinner?” Jo called out and Haymitch realized belatedly that the music had stopped and most of the kids had left the tent.  

They immediately let go of each other. Effie was a bit red in the face and she cleared her throat, muttering something about getting changed into something warmer before fleeing the tent. Haymitch, after a moment, grabbed the leather jacket he had abandoned on the bleachers and followed Jo out, ignoring the suspicious glances the kid was giving him.

He waited for the young woman to corner him all evening which was why he was so taken off-guard when, at the end of the show, when they were putting everything away, it was Finnick who stopped right in front of him with a serious expression on his face.

“Don’t toy with her.” the young man warned him. “I like you but she’s the closest I’ve ever got to a mother and I swear if you hurt her I will smash your face.”

His eyebrows shot up and his lips twitched despite himself. “You think you can take me in a fight, boy?”

Maybe he could. The kid was younger. But Haymitch had gained back the muscles he had lost drinking since he had come back to circus life and he had always been strong in a brawl.

“I won’t be alone.” Finnick shrugged and then walked away to where Jo was leaning against a pillar.

Duty accomplished.

[cambrand]

*~*

My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am eighteen years old. My home is District 12. I was in the Hunger Games. District 13 took me in. Peeta was taken prisoner by the Capitol. He died by President Snow’s hands. Prim died by Coin’s. I was not allowed to die by my own. I need an escape. Beetee is offering me an escape…

A Song of Ash and Arrows

I sit at the kitchen table, alone in the darkness, the book I made splayed open in front of me. The only sound in this house is the crisp and steady turn of each page. I am on autopilot, looking but not seeing.

Greasy Sae and her granddaughter have come and gone. I’ve proven I’m capable of cooking for myself again but she’s still making sure I eat, and I accept the company. Or I don’t have the heart or the fight to turn it down. Even Buttercup curls up on the table and I don’t yell at him to get off. He sits in a loaf, purring, watching me. As attentive as Greasy Sae. I guess I must be getting bad again.

Suddenly his paw shoots out and pats at something, startling me out of my stupor. I almost swat his paw out of the way when I do a doubletake at the page.

It’s Prim. The photo he tapped. And next to her, my drawing of Peeta.

A dull ache hiccups in my chest, shooting up to my throat. I try to swallow it back down, but even so, my fingers trace the images on the page. There’s an actual photograph of Peeta too somewhere, on another page I think, but I thought it would be a nice tribute to his memory to try to draw him. It’s nothing compared to Peeta’s paintings, or the illustrations I know he would’ve gladly added to these pages, but it’s enough to elicit a reaction from me.

I wonder sometimes if he would’ve drawn Prim, if he had been there, if he had known…

There’s no question, I realize as I remember his painting of Rue. I don’t wonder. I know. He would’ve picked a primrose from the forest, pressed it in the pages, surrounded her with a crown of them in his art…

Buttercup takes another swing at the photo, at my hand, and I notice I’m pressing my fingers so hard against the page that they’re shaking. I swat back at him this time and abruptly slam the book shut. The sudden motion and noise on impact startle Buttercup so much that he scampers and jumps off the table.

I storm upstairs to bed. The cat follows shortly after. He curls up next to me, waiting for me to sleep, the way he used to with Prim.

I wish Prim were here. I wish Peeta were here. I want either, both, in Buttercup’s place.

I sleep for hours. Possibly more than the cat.

Sometime in the afternoon, between Greasy Sae meals, I decide to go see Haymitch. He has nothing going on, I have nothing better to do besides hunt. As always, we are a match made in hell – or at least the Victor’s Village.

I greet his geese when I arrive. I like them well enough, find myself amused by them. It’s nice to be hissed at by an animal that isn’t Buttercup. He hasn’t been doing as much hissing at me these days anyway, which is unnerving – and then depressing when I remember the reason. Some of the geese flutter their wings at me, and it makes me think of the ones Cinna made. Reminders are everywhere in District 12.

Missing the luxury of Haymitch having Hazelle for a housekeeper, I push open the front door and brace myself for a sour smell.

It doesn’t come. Or, rather, it’s not as bad. Have I become accustomed to it after all this time, or has my sense of smell gone dull…?

From the look of things inside, this does not appear to be the case. There’s no vomit, no liquor bottles on the floor, at least half as many wrappers discarded in various places. Haymitch has cleaned up. Or someone else has. And the answer is draped on the couch next to him, freshly untangled from his arms and staring wide-eyed back at me.

“Effie?” I say, because there’s nothing else to say. The answer to “what are you doing here” is pretty clear.

“Katniss!” Effie breathes, still straightening her wig. “Oh, good, you’re here.” As if there’s nothing out of the ordinary, nothing to see here.

“Knock next time, sweetheart,” Haymitch drawls. There are no bright lipstick marks peppered on his face where I expect them to be. Except I think I see a shimmer of pink and gloss when I squint. Looking at Effie now, I notice she’s dolled… down. Her wig is more contained, her makeup more subtle.

“Should I come back later…?” I ask dryly, already wondering how best to drive this image out of my head.

“Yes,” Haymitch replies.

“No,” says Effie at the same time, hasty as she stands from the couch. “No, I’m glad you’re here.”

Haymitch makes a noncommittal grunt, but Effie rounds the table and strides over to me, engulfing me in a perfumed hug.

“It’s good to see you, my girl,” she murmurs in my ear. I try not to cringe when I smell Haymitch on her breath.

Nicely, I hug her back, and give her a pat of greeting. “I didn’t even know you were visiting,” I say, making sure to fit a hint of accusation in my tone.

She picks up on it and has the sense to look embarrassed, batting her eyes innocently after we pull away. Her lashes are still shiny and glittery. “I was going to come by your house at three,” she assures me.

“It’s a quarter past,” I inform her.

Effie looks briefly horrified, which allows me a small spark of joy. “Well, no matter,” she amends, but shoots a dour glare at Haymitch, who looks rather pleased with himself. She picks something up off a counter and hands it to me. “Here, a letter for you.”

“Who’s it from?” I ask preemptively, accepting it from her. I can’t register the name or handwriting just yet, but I venture a guess. “Annie?”

“Oh, have you been writing to Annie?” Effie asks with a smile.

“Now and then,” I tell her, and lose my filter. “I guess when you’ve both seen your district partners decapitated, you tend to gain a sense of camaraderie.”

Effie exhales sharply. “Katniss!”

“Sorry,” I say. Using humor to cope doesn’t actually make it any easier. But it does bring a wry, knowing mouth quirk to Haymitch’s face. Not exactly a smile, of course, but acknowledgement. He won’t laugh, but he knows.

“It’s alright,” Effie sighs. “I suppose there’s a ring of truth to it.” I think she’s gotten somewhat used to my shock factor.

Flipping the envelope in my hands, I glance back down and finally make sense of the name. “It’s from Beetee.”

“Yes, I imagine he’ll mention whatever brilliant creation he’s been working so hard on these days,” Effie remarks, making a face as she examines herself in Haymitch’s cracked mirror. “He’s been at it for months and he won’t tell a soul what it is. But I suspect if there’s anyone he’d share his big secret with, it would be you.”

Beetee. I don’t hear from him nearly as much as I do Annie, Finnick, or Johanna. Not at all, really. I initially chalked his silence up to guilt because of the bombs, but it sounds to me like he’s simply been in a world of his own, inventing away in District 3. I tear open the letter, confusion giving way to curiosity.

Dear Katniss,

I hope this letter finds you well. Or, at least, in good health. First, I must apologize that it is so many months overdue. Ever since the war ended, I have devoted my time and efforts to a top-secret project I believe you will find particularly interesting. The few times I have spoken to Effie, Haymitch, Finnick, Annie, and Johanna, they have mentioned you are still going through a great deal of emotional and physical pain. I cannot refute that I am possibly to blame. Words cannot express my sorrow, nor how much the thought haunts me. Too much has been taken from you. Too much loss, in too short a time, for someone still so young. However, I think we can help one another.

I offer you a potential escape.

Perhaps this is too much of me to ask, but I invite you to please come see me at my workshop in District 3. You will be the first to find out what I have been working towards. And perhaps, if you are so inclined, the first to experience it for yourself.

Regards,

Beetee Latier

I squint at the words on the paper, unsure if I’ve read them right. Beetee’s expertise is in weapons and wiring. The war is over; what can he possibly have that I want? The tiny chip that holds hours of songs…? No. He’s too smart to think that’s enough of an escape for me.

“What’s he want?” Haymitch asks, keeping his voice gruff to contain his interest.

Lowering the letter, I look over at him and Effie. “He wants me to come to District 3,” I say, but try to bury my curiosity as well. “Am I not still bound to District 12?”

“That was until further notice,” Effie reminds me. “Beetee has cleared it with Paylor and you are free to visit him as you please.” She eyes the letter with heightened interest. “Did he tell you what his newest invention is?”

“No,” I tell her softly. My grip crinkles the edges of the letter. “But I’m going to find out.”

On the train, I lean my head against the window and stare outside as the world races by. I see a lot of green, which should encourage me. Instead I am just tired.

Effie is my escort to District 3, probably so I don’t do anything to hurt myself on or off the train. It makes me feel like I’m on my way to another Hunger Games with Peeta. I try to ignore it. She tells me Haymitch mentioned my book to her and I tell her a few things he and I have included, like Rue and Boggs and Maysilee, and Effie keeps sighing, “Oh, Katniss,” so I don’t tell her about the drawing of Peeta because this tires me too.

When the train stops, she directs me to the Victor’s Village and leaves me there to go meet up with an old friend, which makes me feel like a child being dropped off at school. I shrug it off and find my way to Beetee’s workshop. Since there have been only two victors from District 3, he made use of the space in the extra houses when he ran out of room in his own. Wiress’s is available too, now, but I figure he’s chosen to respect and preserve her space.

He’s clearly put his winnings to good use. There’s a winding staircase that leads to a vast, technology-packed basement. Screens, wires, and machines everywhere. I recognize a lot of equipment from District 13 and the Capitol. There’s even a tall glass cylinder and metal plate that looks like it’s ready to launch me into an arena.

I hear movement and tinkering, so I call out, “Beetee?”

A head pops up from over in the corner. “Katniss,” he says, his voice weary but warm and relieved at the sight of me. He rolls past some equipment and makes his way towards me with a smile of greeting. There are bags under his eyes and his beard has filled in considerably. It’s clear he’s spent a lot of all-nighters working on this project of his.

“What is all this?” I ask, cutting to the chase. “Why did you ask me to come here?”

He waves me along and wheels himself to a computer where he types something in and flicks at the screen a few times. Then he turns back to me.

“First off, I never officially extended my condolences to you, and I wanted to do so in person,” he says softly. “It didn’t fully hit me until Coin gathered us for the vote. Seeing you there, but no Peeta… I couldn’t… and your sister so soon after…” He is like Wiress, his words fading in the air. He takes my hand in his. “I’m truly sorry, Katniss, for what happened that day.”

I don’t know what to say, but I don’t have Peeta to say things for me. “I know,” I push out. “Why else.”

“I told you, I think we can help one another.” He releases my hand, straightens his glasses, and peers at the screen again, dragging images this way and that. “After the war, the innocent lives lost… lives of the victors torn apart by grief… guilt devouring so many of us from the inside… I dreamed of worlds where wrongs were set right. Of second chances – third chances. Of timelines where we won with the least innocent blood spilt.” He glances over at me. “Perhaps you’ve heard of the string theory?”

I nod; I have a vague idea of it. “I didn’t think the multiverse or parallel dimensions were your kind of thing.”

“They are now,” he says, elbowing a stack of physics books out of the way. “And that, Miss Everdeen, is exactly what I’ve been delving into for the past few months.” With that, he taps exuberantly at a few more buttons and gestures behind him to the glass cylinder, which begins to come alive inside with shimmering, sparking, and vibration. It reminds me of the force field in the training area with more flecks of color.

“What is that?” I ask, baffled by its energy.

Beetee smiles. “A portal, if you will,” he tells me. “A means of multidimensional travel. And I believe I’ve finally made it work.”

I stare at the portal in quiet disbelief. “Beetee, that’s not possible…”

“The same could be said about our current technology by people who lived a thousand years ago,” Beetee counters. “Five years ago, many people thought it impossible to overthrow the Capitol and end the Hunger Games. Yet here we are.” He looks over at me, solemn but proud. “Impossible things happen every single day, Katniss. I’ve always endeavored to make the impossible, in fact, possible.”

Pretty words. “Can that thing bring back my sister?” I deadpan, trying not to raise my voice. “Can it bring back Peeta?”

His smile plummets. “No,” he says. “I haven’t – I don’t know yet for sure. It was designed with that and you in mind, but such close, specific alternate timelines… the odds of it taking you there—”

“—aren’t in my favor,” I finish for him, my bitterness choking me on that last word.

“I need to test it,” Beetee clarifies quickly. “Think of it, Katniss. It can take you away from all of this. Take you to a different world, a different time. It’s, as I said, an escape.”

My muscles begin to unclench, but my mind is buzzing just like the portal. If it’s true, then what he has done is amazing. I can’t deny that. My interest is piqued, even though I try not to show it.

After a long pause, I ask quietly, “Why me?”

“Why you?” he repeats, like the question is amusing yet strange to him.

“Plenty of people have suffered, from the Games and the war,” I point out calmly. “Why me, why not Haymitch?”

“Haymitch has Effie,” Beetee replies, and I bristle. Of course I’m picked because even Haymitch has someone to love and I don’t. Poor, lonely Katniss, who lost Peeta and Prim on the same day and drove away Gale after it all. Even Johanna, who claimed there was no one left she loved, has apparently rarely been apart from Finnick and Annie since the war’s end. But I’m the crazy cat lady who eats Greasy Sae’s meals and bursts in on Haymitch and Effie’s kisses.

All of this must show on my face, because Beetee takes one look and continues.

“He’s also old, Katniss. Old like me,” he says. “He’s tired of adventures and wants to rest at home with Effie and his geese. But you are still young. You have your whole life ahead of you. I know you think there is not much left for you here… I figured if anyone needed a fresh start, it would be you.”

“I have nothing left to lose,” I murmur to the floor.

I know deep down Beetee is right. I don’t want to be in District 12 anymore, where I am living just to live and all that I used to survive for has gone. I would miss my mother, who is in District 4, and Haymitch, but it’s not enough. He of all people knows what I’m going through, but he cannot help me. He cannot give me what I need. The only escape he can offer me is in a bottle. Beetee, on the other hand…

“Given some more time, weeks or more likely months of readjustments,” Beetee muses, poring over his books and screens and data, “it’s possible I could perfect it enough so that we could directly locate the parallel universe where Peeta and your sister are alive. But it’s ready now.” He peers at me hopefully over the top of his glasses. “I just need a test subject.”

I consider the portal for a moment, watch as it pulses invitingly. “So it’ll take me someplace different?” I ask. “Someplace new?”

Beetee nods. “I don’t have exact control over where you might end up. The possibilities are endless. But I will ask you to wear a very small camera so I’ll be able to see for myself and establish a connection from both ends. Perhaps then I will be able to locate you, and send things to you if you have need of them.”

Might, possibilities, perhaps… there’s a lot of ambiguity here. I really am a test subject in this situation. A tentative question comes to mind. “Will I be able to come back?”

Beetee tilts his head at me knowingly. “Will you want to come back?”

I falter. His question is better than mine. He was right to select me as his test subject – we can help one another. If this thing works, I will go to a universe that is not ravaged by Panem’s war, or haunted by the Hunger Games. Maybe a vast wilderness filed with wildlife where I can lose myself in the forests and the ghosts can’t find me.

If something goes terribly wrong, well, then maybe I will just be gone. Gone like Cinna and Peeta and Prim and Rue. And Beetee knows that would make me happy too.

“I’ll need some time to think about it, and say my goodbyes,” I tell him, and crack a wry grin. “Get my affairs in order, as it were.”

“Of course,” Beetee says encouragingly. “Make all the preparations you need.”

The portal thrums with potential, with promise. I walk over to it and place my hand gingerly against the protective glass, feeling the energy inside. My heart and stomach do flips, and I almost pull my hand away, as if afraid the portal will somehow suck me in and take me before I’m ready. Then I realize I’ve been ready since I woke up in the hospital after losing Prim.

“I just want to be someplace where the train ride is officially over,” I say quietly. “Someplace I don’t have to be the Mockingjay anymore.”

I see Beetee’s understanding smile through his reflection in the glass. “I think that can be arranged.”

Somehow, I convince Effie to take me to District 4 so I can see my mom. I stay with her for a while, taking the chance to visit Finnick and Annie and their son – and, of course, his auntie Johanna.

Deep down, I know there’s still a part of Finnick that thinks I blame him for Peeta’s death, so I try to put it to rest before I go. It’s not like Peeta’s mind was in his control – it was barely within Peeta’s. None of us, not even Peeta, could have expected that moment of clarity during the battle with the mutts. But he must have remembered how Finnick saved his life in the Quell, he must’ve remembered he had Annie waiting for him. That’s how I’ve managed to rationalize his sudden sacrifice.

He was gallant to the end, too gallant for his own good. At least he got to die as himself, like he always wanted. And now he and Finnick are even.

It helps to see Finnick plays games with his son, knowing Peeta gave him that. But my smile still fades when the childish laughter triggers something in my mind, like a dream, and I imagine the little boy with blond curls playing with Peeta in the Meadow. Maybe I’m there too, watching, even holding a baby sister we named after Prim.

I once wished for a world where Peeta’s child would be safe. It’s here now, a world without the Games, and maybe one day I could’ve given him this. The boy with the blond curls and the Seam eyes. Or another girl could if I wouldn’t, but I hate this thought more than I ever hated Gale’s hypothetical tribute partner or the girls he’s probably kissing in District 2.

I only know that I mourn Peeta’s children, even the fictional one that died in the Quell. I mourn the happy ending he deserved. So before I leave, I kiss the red hair of the baby boy whose father he saved.

Maybe I overdo it a little when I hug Johanna goodbye. Although she returns it, she pulls away after a generous ten seconds and searches my face with knowing eyes.

“You’re not just leaving Four, are you…” she says, in a tone that adds more.

I shake my head. “I’ll explain more in a letter,” I promise.

“That is proper etiquette, I guess.” She sighs, arms folded across her chest. “I don’t suppose there’s anything I can say or do to stop you…?”

“No. It’s just something I have to do,” I tell her, and offer a half-hearted shrug. “Who knows, if it’s possible, maybe I’ll come back someday.”

Johanna looks baffled. “I mean, sure. If you believe that…”

A light goes on in my head, and I laugh. “Just wait for the letter.”

When I hug my mother goodbye, though, I make it last. Because Johanna is basically right. Odds are, this portal could be a one-way trip. If I go through, I’m dead to the world. There is no coming back.

The next time Effie arranges to meet Haymitch, she meets up with me and we share a ride back to District 12. I try to subtly spend as much time with them both as I can without walking in on any more kisses. This is hard to do – the subtlety, not just the timing – and Haymitch eventually calls me out on it while we’re alone.

“Alright, what are you up to, sweetheart?” he asks. “Months of hibernation after Peeta’s death, and then you come back from your little Beetee trip and suddenly you’re so…” I watch him dance around the word clingy. “…social. You’re like a cat that’s always underfoot.”

I look up from the floor, swallowing as I search for my resolve. “I might be going away for a while,” I say. “I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

Haymitch studies me closely. “You don’t know ifyou’ll be back,” he realizes, because even in the most bizarre of situations, the man knows me.

I keep my answers vague and my requests and instructions clear. He’ll be looking after Buttercup and the house while I’m gone (begrudgingly, of course). I’m leaving the book in his care, too, since he helped make it. Lugging it around with me might not be feasible. I already thought of this, so I asked Beetee for a favor. Now copies of the pages will be saved in a small handheld device, if I ever want to look back. Only a few tangible photos are coming with me.

At home, packing is an ordeal. I’d planned to travel light, but Beetee advised me to prepare for anything. A winter coat for a blizzard, a wetsuit for a world of water. He’s even considering getting me those night-vision sunglasses from my first Games, in case the world has gone dark.

“Feels like I’m going back into the arena,” I say idly to Buttercup, who is hovering in the doorway. He’s doing that cat thing where he wants to watch me but not from the same room. Since he’s a stupid cat, and not Beetee, he has no idea what I’m talking about, so I turn and go back to my packing.

The mockingjay pin rests inside the opened silver parachute on my desk, waiting for judgment. I pick it up, hearing the pearl and spile roll and clink at the disturbance, and weigh it on my palm, unsure. I told Beetee I didn’t want to be the Mockingjay anymore. But this is a symbol from my district. A district I am choosing to leave behind…

I sigh and let it drop back into the parachute, which I am taking with me. If anything, I want to keep it with me to remember Madge.

Peeta’s medallion goes in there too. I’ve replaced Gale’s picture with his since I cannot bear to have Gale next to Prim anymore. That’s the last reminder I want to carry with me.

After stuffing in a few more supplies, I zip up my bag and head downstairs. Effie will be heading back home so she’s escorting me to District 3 again on the way. I’m sure she’s confused despite whatever Haymitch may have told her, but I have a letter written for her just as I have for everyone else. Despite her puzzlement, she’ll want to leave on time, so I quicken my pace as I make for the front door, but a rusty meow startles me.

I look down, and there’s Buttercup. Prowling, threading through my legs, leering up at me. It occurs to me suddenly that he’s been making a lot of noise today. Like he knows I’m going somewhere. He keeps meowing, making short little noises that seem inquisitive and even demanding, though I know I’ve already fed him. I’m pretty sure he just wants to get in my way.

“What?” I ask him. “Oh, don’t pretend like you’re going to miss me.”

He gives that helpless kitten mew, then continues circling me relentlessly, even starting up a rattly purr.

Disgusting, I think. Have some dignity. But I don’t know which one of us I’m talking to as I lean down and pick him up.

I almost feel bad for the little beast. We’re more alike than I care to admit, and while we can both survive without each other, we would not be better off. Besides my mother in District Four, we are each other’s last living shred of Prim. I’m not sure I have it in me to take that away from him.

Holding him in my arms for once, rather than by the scruff, I look him in those dirty yellow eyes of his. “You would just end up eating Haymitch’s geese while you were there, wouldn’t you?” I accuse him.

He licks his chops, as if agreeing with me.

I like those geese. And Haymitch doesn’t have to worry about vermin if Effie’s been getting him to actually clean his place up once in a while, so there’s no point in dumping Buttercup on him. I wouldn’t wish this cat on my worst enemy, let alone Haymitch.

With a defeated sigh, I stuff him in my game bag for old time’s sake. For better or for worse, Prim’s ugly old cat is staying with me.

“If it turns out to be a world full of water, you might end up finally drowning after all,” I warn him as I walk out the door.

Buttercup rumbles a low growl inside the bag. He’s too stupid to know I’m bluffing.

The cat stays securely in the bag while we’re inside Beetee’s workshop, since I just know if he gets loose he’ll bite something important and screw things up. Instead, he makes occasional muffled growls and yowls as Beetee and I make our final preparations. As promised, Beetee’s managed to compress a few things (coat, clothes, food, arrows, medical kit) so that they fit in my one pack, because that’s all I’m carrying besides my bow and game bag.

“Makes you feel like you’re going into another arena, doesn’t it?” Beetee says with a wry smile, watching me slip the night vision sunglasses into a pocket.

I shake the pack to make the glasses settle in deeper before pulling the zipper. “It’s all of the Cornucopia with none of the Bloodbath.”

He chuckles and turns back to his screen, tapping and clicking at the program until with a small lift of his glasses he looks satisfied. “Alright. We should be good to go.”

After one more tap, the portal starts up with an ethereal shimmer. A soft whirring sound signals the rising of the protective glass and it finally hits me that I’m meant to step into that energy. I take a deep breath and sling the pack on over my shoulders, silently reminding myself that I’ve faced worse. To go into the unknown is better than to go on decaying in District 12.

Beetee attaches the tiny camera to my shirt and shows me how to turn it on and off. It’s a little thing, but in case my microphone and earpiece don’t work, he just wants to make sure I’ve made it over okay. Besides that, he’s interested to know what it’s like wherever I show up. I can tell he’s excited about this, and I feel sort of guilty for initially hoping the thing might just obliterate me from existence.

Once I’m set and secured, squirming game bag in hand, I approach the portal and take one last look at Beetee. “Any final words of advice for me before I go in?”

“Hm,” says Beetee, fidgeting. He’s even more nervous than I am. “I guess that is the kind of thing a mentor would do.” He tilts his head at me. “What would Haymitch usually say in this situation?”

There’s no doubt what he would say if he were here. I can hear him in my head as if I’m already wearing the earpiece.

“Stay alive,” I murmur.

Beetee laughs. “Yes. Please try to do just that,” he says, tapping at the keyboard. Then he sobers, straightens his glasses, and looks up at me. “Good luck, Katniss.”

I nod at him. “Thank you,” I say, and trust that he understands the double-meaning.

Then I step onto the metal plate, turn, and watch the glass case descend before the energy engulfs me.

[ao3feed-everlark]

To love and lose

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/xL5mNnD

by Hdishebrna

This is my take of the everlark growing back together. I’m a hop, skip and a jump away from my comfort zone but I think it’s alright.

More tags as chapters progress bc I have no clue what’s gonna happen

Words: 3476, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Peeta Mellark, Katniss Everdeen, Primrose Everdeen (mentioned), Greasy Sae's Granddaughter (Hunger Games), Greasy Sae (Hunger Games)

Relationships: Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark, Katniss Everdeen & Peeta Mellark

Additional Tags: growing back together, Grief, Painting

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/xL5mNnD

[mega-aulover]

Greasy-Sae's Granddaughter