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lemonluvgirl · 1 year

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New Everlark Fall Fic

*very lightly beta read*

The wind was kicking up as Katniss exited her modest home on Seam street.

Outside the whole world had been turned to muted gold. The trees were painted through with streaks of orange and red to herald the reign of autumn over all nature.

The breeze felt pleasant as the setting fall sun spread its final rays of warmth over the surrounding region, but Katniss knew that once the sun had set the air would turn thinner and chillier as the night wore on.

That was why she made sure to tell her little sister to button up her sweater.

“I’m thirteen, not three, Katniss,” Primrose Everdeen grumbled under her breath even as her delicate fingers moved to obey her older sister. They were only four years apart, but Katniss was as protective of Prim as any mother was of their own child. It was just in her nature.

“Anyone can catch a cold at any age, or don’t they teach you that in your fancy medical courses?” Katniss teased. In actuality she was extremely proud of her little sister, who had been chosen out of hundreds of other students in the district to be accepted into the Twelve’s very exclusive youth medical training program. They only took the very best kids, who showed the most potential. Katniss had been considered once, when she was thirteen, due to her practical knowledge of local plants and herbs, but her squeamishness around blood and patient nudity had ruled her out as a serious candidate.

Twelve was still one of the smallest districts in the country, and although things had improved in recent years after the 2nd war was fought and won to free the districts, it was still by and large a mining community. 75% of adults worked in mining or mining related jobs, and the other quarter were identified and trained from a young age to work essential jobs in medicine, teaching, and law enforcement. Katniss herself was apprenticed to the local tanner, and when she graduated in two years she would be able to help expand the dwindling business to meet the needs of their growing district. It wasn't a glamorous job, by far. It was often foul-smelling hard work, but Katniss felt she was lucky to not end up slated to work in the mines, like so many of her other classmates.

Her brilliant little sister Prim, she had always known, was meant for much bigger and better things.

“Courses on the human immune system don’t start until next semester,” Prim said with a small smirk, “but yes, I am aware that anyone can get sick, at any age.” She finished with a small laugh, and turned back to her big sister with blue eyes large with excitement, glad for any excuse to talk about her new studies, which of course her big sister knew, and worked into conversations readily just to see her little sister smile so freely.

“Did you know that catching a virus from being outside in cold weather for extended periods of time is a huge misconception, actually, it's the congregation of large groups of people in small spaces…” Prim prattled on and Katniss paid attention to the joyful gleam in her eyes, more than her actual words as they headed towards town and the reason for their late afternoon excursion.

The No-More-Reaping Festival.

***~***

A drop of sweat slipped from Peeta’s hairline and trailed precariously close to his eye as he transferred the freshly made batch of cinnamon twists from the third oven to the cooling rack. Peeta blinked repeatedly and tilted his head in order to encourage the sweat droplet to alter its course.

It worked.

The bead of perspiration trickled along his hairline, lodging itself finally in the slightly overgrown ashy blond curls that peaked over his ears.

With a sigh of relief, Peeta adjusted the tray’s placement on the cooling rack to make sure it was secured properly, before picking up the edge of his apron and mopping up the excess moisture that was dotting his forehead.

He was sweating like a roast pig.

But 12 hours working 4 ovens and baking for an entire district will do that to you, he thought with amusement.

“Peeta, how’re the twists coming?” a familiar deep voice called out from the kitchen entrance.

Sure enough, when Peeta looked over he saw the graying mop of ash blonde waves and bright blue eyes so much like his own, only a few decades older, staring back at him.

“All done, Dad,” he replied proudly, extending his arm in a sweeping motion as he gestured towards the cooling rack.

His father beamed in response.

“That’s great Peeta! Right on schedule, as always,” he praised.

Peeta gave his father a humble smile in return and wiped his palms on his aprons.

“Why don’t you go and wash up?” his father suggested, and Peeta looked back at him in surprise.

“Now? But it's only half past five! We’ve still got to transfer everything to the outdoor stand, and then set up and-” Peeta’s list was cut off by his father’s amused laugh.

“That’s what your brothers are for Peeta. They might not be my apprentices, so they don’t have to help bake for the festival, but they still live under this roof and have to pull their weight around here. You’ve done enough for today. Take the rest of the night off.”

Peeta stared back at his father in bewilderment. He had assumed he’d be working the entire festival since he was officially apprentice to the only baker in district 12.

“Go on!” His father ordered jovially, “Go meet up with your friends! You’ve been working too hard lately!” his father added with a laugh and a friendly slap to the back when Peeta couldn’t seem to shake off his surprise.

That got him going.

With a jolt he sped up the stairs and made a dash for the bathroom, speeding by and jostling his middle brother who had been heading for the bathroom as well.

“Hey! I was going to take a shower next!” Rye complained loudly from the other side of the door as Peeta anxiously stripped off his dirty work clothes.

“Dad said to tell you to head to the kitchen!” Peeta called back through the door, and turned on the water of the shower to help drown out the curse words and indignities his brother lobbed against the door before retreating downstairs to help their father pack up the sweets they’d be selling for the No-More-Reaping festival.

***~***

The festival didn’t officially start until 7pm.

Yet, Main Street was lit with strings of glowing bulbs strung between the trees and lampposts overhead. The town square itself had been transformed with quaint decorations of hay bales and baskets filled with fall harvest vegetables, like squash and pumpkins. At the front of the square a stage was set up, but stood empty at the moment.

The sides of the festival were lined with activity though, because even an hour and a half early many of the food and game booths were open. A handful of the vendors were handing out small free samples or free turns to play.

That’s why Katniss always made sure she and Prim came to the festival early each year.

It's not that they were hungry per say, but every little bit helped ever since they had lost their father in the last big mining accident to befall District 12 six years ago. They got by alright on their father’s accident payout checks that arrived every month, but their mother had never recovered from the loss of her husband, she was still despondent and unreachable most days, and consequently never got a regular job like many of the other miner’s widows had been forced to do in order to make ends meet for their large families.

Luckily, their family had been small enough that if they budgeted well and also subsisted with Katniss’ hunting, they were alright. In fact, it was her hunting that had helped her claim the coveted spot as the tanner’s apprentice. The fact that she shot her kills in the eye every time, wasting none of the hide, or meat, was widely known and respected. The tanner decided that it was more beneficial to choose an apprentice who had ready access to pelts on a consistent basis, even if she was kind of tiny, and a girl to boot.

Once Katniss graduated, she’d start earning a real wage and then things would be even better for her and Prim. Kantiss mused, as she sipped on a small cup of spiced apple cider.

“Mmm,” Prim intoned happily as she chewed on a cranberry she had plucked from her sister’s cup.

“Ok, where do you want to go next?” Prim asked after she had swallowed the tart little berry.

Katniss shrugged, she didn’t really care much for the games or contests at these things. They were just distractions from the food in her opinion. But she knew Prim loved the entire festival, from the stupid bobbing for apples contest to the late night historic recounting the mayor recited every year.

They’d probably end up walking the entire festival circuit twice before the night was over. So Katniss ambled in a random direction while Prim practically skipped at her side.

“Well, if you leave it up to me you know where we’ll end up!” Prim said with a mischievous glint in her eye, before turning in the direction where both sisters could hear short strains of melodies ringing out. The musicians were already tuning their instruments.

That stopped Katniss short, and she groaned.

In times past dancing in the square with Prim had been fun, a way to keep warm as the night grew progressively colder. But recently, in just the past couple of years, Kantiss had come to dread the dancing portion of their festival.

Every year there were more and more boys, who were determined to intrude on their sisterly fun. Always asking to cut in, or if they wanted some cider to drink, or if they wanted something stronger than cider.

Katniss had been tempted to break Corey Carwright’s nose last year when the little sneak kissed Prim’s cheek after she agreed to dance a reel with him. No good, presumptuous little weasel. But Prim had stayed her hand, and the Cartwright boy had given Prim a wide berth for the rest of the festival, and the rest of the year after Katniss had promised hellfire and retribution to any boy foolish enough to make designs on her precious little sister.

Katniss wasn’t anxious for a repeat of last year, and so she dragged her feet when Prim tried to usher her towards the dancing arena set up in the middle of the square.

“Come on, Kantiss!” Prim cajoled with a pleading look as she fixed her large blue eyes into two wide pools of beseechment.

Katniss huffed, and grumbled, and threatened bodily harm to any boy who tried to take liberties, but eventually she gave in and followed her sister. They claimed a coveted spot near to the stage just as Mayor Undersee began his opening speech.

“Welcome ladies and gentlemen of District 12! Tonight we celebrate the end to years of tyranny and oppression, a hard fought end to years of hunger and grief. On the 25th anniversary of the last Hunger Games ever fought, we strive to keep the memory of The Last Victor alive. We, of District 12, are honored to have been the District that The Last Victor called home. We are honored and grateful to have been the start of the rebellion that sparked the war that freed all the Districts of Panem, even though it came at a great cost. That is why every year we gather together to make merry on a night that once brought countless families grief. 25 years ago, four families sent away four of their children to fight, and die in the Quarter Quell. That night was filled with tears and a bitter longing for the day when every family would be free of the fear of The Reaping. Then, many more families lost sons and daughters in the war against The Capitol. All of those lives lost, all that blood shed, to bring about one simple thing. It is a freedom every father and mother alive today can now enjoy, as we watch our children play and frolic as children should, without anxiety of a future filled with Reapings. With a future marred by the shadow of The Hunger Games. So tonight, I implore each and every person here, from the age of 2 years old to 92. Be happy! Be merry! Be free! Countless died so that you could see this come to pass. Honor them by making the most of it!”

A great cheer went up as the mayor concluded his speech and the band on the stage took up their instruments and started playing a lively fast tune right away. Prim grabbed her sister’s hand, and Katniss smiled a real smile, large and free, because she was glad she didn’t have to imagine living in a time when her little sister’s name might be called in a Reaping.

She laughed as she and Prim spun around, forgetting about the usual worries of meager finances and a coming winter. And just for a moment Katniss Everdeen was a girl of 17, happy and unburdened.

***~***

She looked radiant as the late fall sunset as she twirled around the square with her little sister. She was wearing a blue wrap dress that floated around her hips and billowed in the breeze underneath her usual too large leather jacket. She had brown colored stockings on, and plain flats on her dainty feet, but her beautiful dark hair was coiled around her head in a maze of intricate braids, with little pieces left to frame her delicate heart shaped face.

Peeta stole glimpses of her from the corner of his eye as she danced song after song with her sister, always turning down any offer she got from the boys her age.

It was a widely known fact that Katniss Everdeen didn’t fraternize with the opposite sex, or anyone for that matter. People had lots of theories as to why. Some speculated that she still held a candle for the miner’s son, Gale Hawthorne who had been recruited out of high school for a specialist engineering program and had relocated to District 2 a few years back. There had been talk that the two of them were an item when Katniss was still in middle school and Gale was in his first year of high school. They were hunting partners for a few years after the mining accident that claimed their father’s lives and forced the new government to revamp the entire mining infrastructure to make it more secure and sustainable. But Peeta always personally thought she didn’t have the look of a girl in love with a memory, or in a long distance relationship. When she came to trade her game at the back door of the bakery, or when he sat beside her in history at school, she had the look of a person who didn’t have the time or energy to waste on romance.

So, for a boy who’d been in love with the same girl since kindergarten, he resolved to bide his time. She might not be ready for romance right now, but maybe she would be one day, when her little sister was settled in her medical training program as the new District doctor, and Katniss herself took over for the tanner.

He could wait, Peeta told himself.

But then Katniss shrugged off her leather jacket and draped it over a nearby chair and suddenly he got to see her newly developed curves in motion. The swaying of her gently rounded hips tested Peeta’s resolve.

He wanted to throw caution to the wind to ask her to dance with him, no matter that she would probably turn him down like every other poor fool before him.

Instead Peeta beat down his more impulsive side and downed more of the spiked cider his friends were passing around, and he chewed on the corner of his bottom lip. He tried very hard to ignore the flush of her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes as she laughed and kicked out her feet in time to the music.

But he wasn’t sure he would ever be successful at ignoring Katniss Everdeen at all.

***~***

As the night wore on, Prim danced more and more with her friends, other girls her age and even a few boys, though Kantiss kept a sharp eye on those coed interactions.

Colin Cartwright steered clear of the Everdeen girls, and stuck mainly to his big sister and her friends, lucky for him. Prim and Katniss even took a few breaks from dancing to play the booth games and eat the cheaper snacks the vendors were selling. The cinnamon twists were especially delicious.

All in all the night was going splendidly. It wasn't until Kantiss was taking a water break from a particularly upbeat rendition of the old District favorite, ‘Still Comes a Crawling to You,’ that things started to go sideways.

Prim bounded up to her with a great big smile on her face, the one that meant she wanted something.

“Katniss, Marcee McAffey invited me to sleep over at her house tonight!” Prim squealed in delight.

Suddenly Katniss’ carefree attitude dissolved into the rapidly cooling air, and a familiar frown started to form on her young face.

“Please say I can go Katniss! It’ll be so much fun! Odette and Gia are going to come as well!” Prim argued preemptively. Katniss was much more comfortable with Odette and Gia, who were residents of Seam street like her and Prim. All three girls were in the medical youth training program as well, with Odette and Gia training to become midwives. But even with the reassurance of the other two girls, Katniss still wasn’t sold on the idea of her little sister staying over at a rich girl’s house in town.

Marcee McAffey was the daughter of the mine doctor. And although Prim came into contact with their family because of the medical training program, the position of mine doctor was still fairly new, having been created only five years before in response to the death of many miners after the last tunnel collapse. The collapse that Katniss and Prim’s father had died in. Officials who investigated the collapse after the fact had argued that if a trained medical professional had been on site at the time of the tragedy, many men could have been saved. So, the government sent Doctor McAffey to District 12 to ensure that if anything like the horrid collapse ever happened again, some of the miners would have a fighting chance.

Despite the fact that Dr. McAffey was well liked by the miners and Seam residents, Katniss still had never gotten over her wariness of him. He and his family were from District 14, or as many still called it, the old Capitol. Even though he was not a part of the generation that had enslaved and oppressed the people of the Districts during the time of the Hunger Games, his grandparents had no doubt grown up in that era.

She worried, however subconsciously, he might think that all District born people were beneath him in some way. Less educated, less cultured, less human.

Katniss had still been a child when her father first explained the concept of the Hunger Games to her, when she came home from school asking questions. She had been unable to understand people, many of them parents themselves, had been ok with sending off children to fight to the death in a horrid pageant of violence. Her father had explained, with some difficulty, that people in the Capitol back in those days had seen the citizens of the Districts as something less than human and therefore, thought almost nothing of sending scores of children to die year after year for their entertainment.

It was a lesson that had shaken her down to her bones, and still shook her to this day. However, her father had also told her that people could change their minds, and their hearts if they truly tried. That was why the districts gave the people of the Capitol another chance, and instead of wiping them all out they opted to vote them in as the 14th District of Panem.

Katniss did not want her little sister staying in the home of people who held to old beliefs of Capitol superiority, but she also didn’t want to judge them without proof. Therefore, she resolved to go meet the McAffees and ascertain what kind of people they were.

Without saying a word, Kantiss grabbed Prim’s hand and marched over to where the Doctor and his wife and daughter were sitting at the edges of the dance area, ignoring Prim’s questions along the way.

“Thank you for inviting Prim to the sleepover. But my mother is very strict about who Prim spends time with,” she stated flatly, without so much as an introduction.

At this statement, Marcee McAffey’s face fell, and Prim let out a shocked little squeak.

Mrs. McAffey looked confused and slightly affronted.

But Dr. McAffey remained remarkably unperturbed.

“Ah, well that’s understandable. Can I assume you’re Katniss, Primrose’s older sister?” At this Katniss nodded, and the doctor continued, “Is your mother here? So that we can meet her and discuss things?” Dr. McAffey asked amiably.

But Katniss simply shook her head.

“My mother wasn’t feeling well enough to come to the festival. But she left me in charge of Prim. I’d like to ask you some questions before I give permission for Prim to go to the sleepover,” Katniss said.

“Katniss!” Her little sister tried to admonish her. Prim was starting to feel embarrassed and annoyed, but Katniss wouldn’t budge.

“Oh, I see,” Dr. McAffey replied with an accepting nod of his head. “What would you like to know?”

“How are you liking it here in District 12?” Katniss asked, eyes narrowed in concentration.

Mrs. McAffey laughed at her question and Katniss frowned, she did not like being laughed at.

She was sure that the woman was amused by the simplicity of her question, and probably thought Katniss was a little dim witted. But Katniss wanted to see what kind of answers they would give. If they would admit to missing District 14 and all its modern conveniences, or if they would try to lie and save face by saying they loved it out here in backwater little District 12 where people still died of black lung and the flu every winter.

But then Dr. McAffey put his hand on his wife’s forearm, in a gentle but restraining manner. And murmured, “Jean,” with a hint of rebuke.

“Forgive my wife, we’ve lived here in 12 for over five years so it seems a little strange for someone to be asking how we like it, this late in the game,” Dr. McAffey explained.

Katniss only narrowed her eyes even further at his choice of words. Game. Was that what his assignment here in District 12 was to him? She wondered.

“But to answer your question, we have made District 12 our home and are happy here. Happier than we could have ever been in District 14.” The doctor elaborated in an even tone.

“Happier? Here in 12?” Katniss asked incredulously.

Dr. McAffey nodded, and seemed sincere. But Katniss wasn’t willing to let it go at that.

“How so?” she prodded, and the doctor smiled gently at her in response.

“If we would have stayed in District 14 we could have had quite a comfortable life. Doctors are needed in every District as you can imagine, but we chose to come here, to 12, so that we could make a difference. Once we heard about the need for medical professionals in the outer districts, we made up our minds to volunteer,” the man told her in a very matter of fact voice.

Katniss blinked back at him in surprise, trying to process what she had just heard. She had always believed that the position of mine doctor had been assigned. She had no idea why anyone from the inner and more affluent districts would volunteer to come out here to a place like 12 where some areas still struggled to get running hot water and reliable electricity.

“Why?” she asked again, posing the question more to herself than anything, but Dr. McAffey still answered her as if she had asked him directly.

“That answer is simple, to repay the Districts for freeing us from the tyranny of President Snow,” Dr. McAffey replied, daring to use the name of the most hated and reviled man who had lived in the past century.

Katniss’ eyes grew wide, at his frankness and his use of Snow’s name. In recent times most people used it in place of a curse.

“You can go with Snow for all I care!” or “Why don’t you keep Snow company in hell!” were common examples. So it was unusual for someone to mention the evil man in casual conversation.

Despite her speechlessness, Dr. McAffey went on.

“A lot of people from the Districts aren’t aware of just how oppressed people from the old Capitol really were under Snow’s regime. They were spied on constantly, in their own homes, watched by the secret police and their own neighbors. Anyone suspected of not conforming to the ideology of Capitol supremacy was turned into a mute slave, or summarily executed. My own grandfather helped treat the surviving Hunger Games’ victors while he was alive. His biggest regret was that he was unable to help the victor from your district, the Last Victor, Haymitch-”

“Don’t-” Katniss interrupted him, with a slight shake of her head. Hearing the Last Victor’s name always upset her for some reason. Maybe because her father always spoke of him with a respect that bordered on reverence, or maybe because his story was just too tragic to remember on a night when everyone was supposed to be celebrating their gains instead of lamenting their losses.

Dr. McAffey simply inclined his head in acquiescence, noting the sheen of her eyes, and the tightness of his lips. He supposed maybe Katniss might have been a distant relative of the man, the hero of 25 years ago who had stood up to the Capitol, to Snow, and all their combined fury and refused to back down.

“My grandfather’s name was Dr. Felix Aurelius and it's because of him I became a doctor. Though he specialized in the healing of the mind, whereas I was only smart enough to become a general practitioner, he implored me to continue working with and for the people of the Districts,” Dr. McAffey elaborated.

“He always said we owed you, especially in District 12, a debt we’d never be able to repay, for opening our eyes, and for giving us the courage to fight back despite the odds being against us,” Dr. McAffey finished his speech in the same quiet and even tone he began it in, but his eyes held a special spark that resonated with Katniss, through and through.

Katniss took a deep breath, and weighed the man’s words in her head with the impression she got from him. She had always been a good judge of character and she trusted her instincts in this case. That and she knew Prim wasn’t a little kid anymore. She was growing up and Katniss would have to start making allowances for her to interact with people her own age. She couldn’t keep her locked up in their little house forever or Prim would start to resent her, which was something Katniss never wanted to happen.

“Alright, Prim can go to the sleepover, as long as it's only girls, and they go straight from the festival to your home, and they are supervised properly the whole time,” Kantiss acknowledged with a small inclination of her head and Prim let out an excited squeal, which Marcee immediately echoed back as she jumped up and wrapped Prim in a girlish hug.

“But just so you know, I’m the best hunter in the district and my mother was apprenticed to the apothecary before she married my father. She knows all sorts of herbs and plants. You take good care of Prim, and all those girls, or you’ll be hearing from us,” Katniss said with as much dignity as a 17 year old could muster while threatening a full grown adult man.

Dr. McAffey did his best to keep his expression neutral even though Katniss thought some part of him might privately be amused at the idea. But Katniss was dead serious when it came to protecting Prim. She was the one person Katniss would give her life for in a heartbeat, no questions asked.

“We could arrange to have Prim call you before bed and also in the morning if that would make you and your mother feel more comfortable,” Dr. McAffey offered graciously, and Katniss felt better about the decision already.

“That would be good, yes,” Katniss accepted the offer with equal grace and Prim turned around and hugged her tightly.

“Thank you!” she whispered into her big sister’s ear. Katniss hugged her back with equal force and whispered instructions to follow should anything go ary.

Then Prim broke away to confer her excitement to Macee, and the two were soon joined by their other friends, Odette and Gia until the four of them resembled a giggling, squealing mass of high pitched anticipation.

Mrs. McAffey came up beside Katniss then and gave her their address and telephone number, with an ironic smile and a comment about how it wasn’t the girls Katniss needed to be worried for, if anything it was them as the adults who’d be outnumbered tonight.

Katniss hid a laugh behind her hand and waved to Prim as the group set off, followed closely by the McAffeys, who walked hand in hand while the girls discussed the sleepover activities they wanted to indulge in, in loud voices.

After their group had disappeared from sight Katniss looked around and found herself alone at the harvest festival for the first time in her life.

It was only nine o’clock and she suddenly had no idea what to do with herself.

***~***

It was nine o’clock and Peeta had no idea what to do with himself. He had danced a few clumsy reels at his friend Delly’s insistence, but none of the girls here tonight left any lasting impression on him.

Well, all except for one, and Peeta couldn’t seem to think up a way to approach her.

He scanned the crowd for her dark braided crown and blue dress, expecting to find her small blond sister by her side.

But no, she was alone, and more than that she seemed almost sad.

This would not do at all.

Peeta wasn’t sure if it was the slightly vulnerable and lost look on her face or the small buzz from the three cups of spiked cider he had consumed over the course of the night but suddenly he found himself walking over to where Katniss stood apart from the crowd, watching the festivities with a detached sort of expression.

When he was about three yards away her gaze suddenly snapped up in his direction as if she could feel him looking at her and gazes locked.

Katniss looked at the blond merchant boy coming towards her.

Well, nowadays Peeta Mellark looked more like a broad shouldered young man and less like the sweet-faced boy who was kind enough to bring over a basket of breads from the bakery when her father died when she was eleven years old.

She glanced around to see if she happened to be standing near one of his friends or something, but she was as alone as she had been when Prim left.

He gave her a small, friendly smile once he reached her. Katniss’ brow only furrowed in confusion.

“Nice night, huh?” Peeta asked casually, as if they chatted all the time. The truth was they had never really spoken before, at least not outside of school and the banal politeness that was expected there.

“It's alright I guess.” Katniss answered suspiciously. She wasn’t sure what he was doing here, approaching her and making small talk.

“You looked like you were having fun earlier, dancing.” Peeta commented and turned to face the area of the square where people were still dancing jovially.

“Uh, yeah. The music’s good this year.” Katniss replied without thinking, because she was still mostly caught off guard that Peeta Mellark was speaking to her. More than that, he had sought her out to have this strange quasi-conversation. He was known to be exceedingly friendly and popular, but he’d never extended that reputation to try and include the district’s solitary and taciturn huntress.

“Yeah. The band’s got a much better fiddler than last year.” Peeta added, still not looking at her but staring now fixedly at the musicians on the stage.

Katniss nodded in agreement, still shooting him confused looks.

“So why aren’t you dancing anymore?” Peeta asked after a moment.

“My sister’s my partner every year. She left.” Katniss replied matter of factly.

“Oh.” Peeta nodded understandingly and stole a sideways glance at her.

“And Prim’s the only one you’ll dance with.” He said it like a statement, not a question.

“Yes.” Katniss replied affirmatively, almost defensively.

“How about food?” Peeta mumbled.

“What?” Katniss asked, turning towards him sharply. His cheeks pinked at her sharp tone.

“Food? Do you like any of the food this year?” He said after he cleared his throat.

“Um…there were these cinnamon things-” Kantiss began,

“Cinnamon twists! Yeah, I made them with my dad this year.” Peeta interjected excitedly, shooting her a proud grin.

Katniss just blinked at his sudden enthusiasm.

“Oh, so I guess that means you were chosen for the apprenticeship to the bakery?” She asked after a moment of too long silence.

“Yes, to the great relief of my father. He was afraid that out of his three sons, none of us had inherited the baking gene.” Peeta replied with a wry chuckle, seemingly unperturbed by her dismal conversational skills. .

“How fortunate for him. And are you ok with that? Becoming a baker?” She asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“Oh, yes. I always wanted to keep the family tradition alive. It might not be glamorous but baking puts a smile on people’s faces. I think that’s gotta have some value in the scheme of things.”

Katniss privately thought simple jobs like feeding and clothing people had a lot of value, but she was afraid if she said that out loud it would sound ridiculous, so instead she nodded her head in agreement and studied Peeta out of the corner of her eye.

His cheeks looked windswept and the tip of his nose looked cold, but his blond eyelashes caught the light of the suspended bulbs overhead. They were so long, she wondered how they didn’t get tangled up together when he blinked.

“Would you-”

“Why are you-”

They both started speaking at the same time and shared a quick, awkward laugh.

“You go ahead.” Katniss recovered first and prompted Peeta to speak.

Peeta lifted his right arm and rubbed at the back of his neck nervously before he spoke.

“Do you want to take a turn around the festival together?” Peeta asked cautiously.

“Like, just walking?”

“Well, I thought maybe we could play some games and eat some more of those twists. I could probably get them for free since I know the baker.” Peeta finally said, and he added a playful smirk at the end that almost tugged a smile onto Katniss’ own lips.

Almost.

“Why?” She asked incredulously.

“Because it's a festival, and we should be having fun. I mean, this is all for us you know,” Peeta tipped his chin up toward the festivities, the people dancing and eating, and talking, “It's supposed to be a celebration of our unfettered youth. No more reapings, or hunger games. Just music and dancing and a good time.” He turned towards her then, and gave her a shrug that seemed like an invitation.

Katniss studied him for a moment, his ash blond hair curling over the tops of his ears and his blue eyes that seemed like a piece of the noon day sky broken off and captured in his open stare.

“Ok,” She said, surprising both him and herself.

“Yeah?” Peeta asked, blue eyes practically glowing with poorly contained excitement.

“As long there will be more of those cinnamon twist things.” Katniss said sternly.

“I’ll get you as many as you want, if you show me how you got the top score on the ball toss game.” Peeta promised with a sweet smile, that was just a tiny bit shy and compelling.

“Baked goods first.” Katniss ordered and Peeta laughed deeply and freely as he took her elbow and hurried towards the bakery stand.

Part 2 Coming Soon

#fall 2022 #everlark #thg #fanfiction #autumn #lemonluvwrites #my writing #romance #fall feels #no games au #no reaping

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jennagill · 4 years

Text

Take a Shot at Love

Summary: Katniss is new in town and Peeta is her range guide. Now rated M.

Part 3 is written for @promptsinpanem in the 15 Days to Finish Your Fic (For Kika) Round. Parts 1 and 2 on AO3 here. They’re short if you missed them in ... checks notes... 2015 and 2018.

Yes. I told him yes. His face brightened into a warm smile at my acceptance. We agreed to meet at the Club but that doesn't stop the butterflies in my stomach while I get ready in my apartment.

Right now I'm struggling with what to wear. Practical over anything else. Closed toe shoes, high neck top, practical above anything else. I don’t want a rogue shell casing burning me. Besides, it's only a Sunday afternoon, right?

So it feels like a date, but I—and anything else in my head is blinded by the flash of someone’s daytime running lights outside my apartment. It’s just someone turning around but my eyes cut to the clock and I need to leave now. Long-sleeve turtleneck and vest with jeans it is, as I slide into my boots and head out the door. The drive over to the Capitol Hunting Club is mercifully short, compared to the growing list of questions in my head. I park and grab my bow and quiver with standard arrows before rushing inside.

The main showroom is packed. Who knew so many people wanted to attend this event? How am I ever going to find Peeta in here? My mind buzzes as I scan for his face when a gentle nudge from behind stops me in my tracks.

“Hey, found you,” he greets me with another one of those disarming smiles.

He’s definitely cleaned up well. Gone is the safety hue and in its place, a fetching shade that matches his eyes.

“Hey, uh yeah. This place is crazy busy. How'd you manage the day off from work?” I ask as my eyes roam the facility and catch a few familiar faces. “Looks like they have the whole staff on point here tonight.”

“I traded a coworker for a few Saturdays. It was quite the negotiation,” he pauses for a long moment, as if he is deciding something. “Ultimately though, I told him that I had a really special date,” he says as heat blooms across his cheeks.

“So this is a date, then?” I say with caution. “I wasn't sure, so I'm glad we have that clarified.” It almost sounds like a contract, rather than romance.

“It's a date if you allow it,” he stammers as his cheeks reach beet red before settling back into his normal skin tone.

I consider this, weighing my heart, body, and head on the matter. I can only imagine the confusion my face must show until I meet his eyes and the fog begins to lift. “I'll allow it, though...having a first date on Valentine's Day? What kind of omen is that?”

“Truth be told, Katniss, I've been wanting to ask you out for months but never worked up the courage until now,” he says quietly. “I’m not placing any special emphasis on the day, I’m just happy to be here, with you.”

Well that’s hard to argue. “Okay, well where do you want to start?” I try with a smile.

“Shoot first?”

“Pardon?”

“The pistol range, then the archery range, and then the meal?”

“Oh, I don’t… really know that much about pistols, my only experience with guns is the shooting we did the other weekend.”

“Oh I have a feeling you’ll be dead on with your aim and we can rent from the club too since I don’t own a pistol. I’ll run you through a safety briefing too.”

I keep considering his motives and his actions, if they are aligned or if I’m missing something as we move to the first station. It’s not much more than a series of door frames with walls in between, just enough for two people to stand closely with a shelf at waist height to place the weapons. I watch Peeta take aim at the ringed hearts on paper hung seven yards away. Blue, purple, and pink. Pop, pop, pop, goes my nerves and heart. The sound is too much on this indoor range with the pistols, even with the noise canceling headphones Peeta lent me.

“Your turn,” he gestures and shows me that the pistol is on safety and pointed down range on the shelf. He changes the target out for good measure too.

I take the pistol in my hands, forming the teacup he mentioned and squinting at the target. The cool steel chills me—I’m more accustomed to the warm bow wood. I flip the safety off and squeeze the trigger, taking a breath between shots. A crackle of electricity runs through my shoulders and spine as I finish my clip but it’s not the same thrill found in the woods. I take another glance at the target. All of the paper hearts are shredded.

“Is there anything you can’t do?” Peeta asks in amazement.

“Thanks, though I think I’ll stick with my bow or trap and skeet,” I say, flipping the safety back on, placing the weapon down, and backing away from the shelf.

Peeta sends another series of shots down range but I’m done shooting pistols for the day. My fingers are itching to get back on a bow. I go over to the archery station for some sanity while Peeta returns the equipment to the rental booth.

Red balloons are attached to the various targets on the archery range with prizes inside. Peeta takes aim with precision and hits nearly all of them. The slips float down to the floor to be retrieved by attendants. “Bullseye! Have you been taking lessons?” I ask casually.

“No. I just replayed what you told me in my head, and well—I wanted to impress you.” A lopsided grin sneaks across his face and he shuffles his feet.

His honesty takes me aback. He says everything in such an offhand way and I am foolish to have suspected ulterior motives. “Well...it shows, you’ve improved a lot since the other day.”

He beams at the praise and then it’s my turn to shoot. The attendant notices that the standing balloon targets offer no challenge for me, so he releases balloons from a ceiling net I had not seen earlier. At first it seems stupid, but it turns out to be kind of fun. Much more like hunting a moving creature, albeit a slow-moving one. Since I’m hitting everything he releases, he starts increasing the number of balloons in the drop. I forget the rest of the range and this date and lose myself in the shooting. When I manage to take down all five balloons in one round, I realize it’s so quiet I can hear each prize slip hit the floor. I turn and see the majority of the people of the range have stopped to watch me. Their faces show everything from jealous to admiration, though Peeta’s face is the brightest of them all.

The attendant calls for cease fire and I retrieve my arrows and prize slips—gift cards for the Club store and café, mostly. We venture toward the cake and coffee bar set out for this event. I wrinkle my nose at the coffee but notice that they offer hot chocolate too. “Oooh, that cake looks amazing!”

“You should have a slice, I have it on good authority that it's delicious,” he says.

He's met with a raised eyebrow.

“It's from my parent’s bakery,” he shrugs with another disarming smile. “Red velvet cake, cream cheese icing, and dark chocolate shavings on top.”

And he’s not wrong. The dark flavors burst in my mouth, sending ripple effects down my spine. The cake and hot chocolate together give me a nervous energy, propelling me toward the next steps of this date. I feel like I could run 26.2 miles now, okay maybe just a half marathon. We both finish our desserts though I have something sweeter in mind.

“Will you walk me out to my car, Peeta?”

Like a gentleman, he does and he waits patiently while I put up my equipment in the trunk.

“Katniss, may I kiss you goodnight—”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish because it’s me that leans in, answering his question with my own response. His lips are surprised but warm up instantly to me. His kisses are warm. His kisses leave me dizzy with want. Amazing kisses. Toe-curling kisses. I feel a swipe of his hot tongue in my mouth and I know that I need more.

He must feel the same way since he’s pulling me closer to him and kissing my jaw and neck, or what he can reach around my sweater. His body is so firm wrapped up with mine, something I’d like to explore more in private.

“Maybe it doesn’t have to be goodnight,” I say to the sinking sun and feel him pause at the shell of my ear, “maybe we can—“ deep breath “maybe we could go back to my place?”

Peeta clears his throat and meets my eyes, “Really?” His eyes cut to the parking lot, realizing that we’re still in a very public place.

“Um, yeah, I don’t live far from here and you could follow me there, if you—if you want to, that is,” I manage, though my confidence is slipping.

“Heck yeah, lead the way!” he says and grins.

“Okay, right, well let’s go,” I say before I change my mind.

If I thought the drive over to the Club was short earlier, this one flew by, my mind racing at the scenario I’ve just proposed. We’ve made it back to my place before I can second guess myself any further.

He parks next to me and follows me to the door, “This is a great location,” he chatters as I unlock it, “I mean, it’s a nice place too,” and then he’s scratching the back of his neck, looking around my sparse apartment.

“Well… as you know, I haven’t been in town very long and it seems like I spend most of my free time out at the Club, trying to compete for your attention with others,” I shrug.

“Compete?“ he laughs and hides his face in his large hand for a moment. “You don’t have any competition anywhere, Katniss,” and this time, it’s him that leans in.

Our lips have barely touched when I ask, “Couch or bed?”

He pulls back to look at me and curls that lip of his under a set of very white teeth. “Honestly, Katniss, whatever happens, you’re calling the shots.”

“Right then, bed it is,” and I pull him into my bedroom.

We spend the next few hours teasing, tasting, and exploring as much of each other as possible since Peeta only has one condom with him. He makes it last though and thoroughly fucks me. My favorite part is probably his ass. I remember checking it out on that very first day, and it’s certainly ample to cup while trying to coax him deeper into my throat or dig my heels into it as I spur him to the orgasms that finally give our bodies peace. My mind wanders just before we drift off to sleep, I just hope he doesn’t have an early shift tomorrow.

~~~~~~

Thank you @papofglencoe for the encouragement and quick beta skills on this third part! It was fun to come out of semi-retirement!

#look out for a moodboard #everlark fanfiction #prompts in panem #skeet!everlark #I write stuff #for kika

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seasonsofeverlark · 3 years

Text

A Mellark Family Thanksgiving

Author: @mandelion82

Prompt: Peeta takes Katniss home for Thanksgiving to meet his crazy family. [Submitted by @eiramrelyat]

Rating: T

____________

Of all the times to meet your (relatively) new boyfriend’s family‒Thanksgiving?!

It was stressful enough meeting your significant other’s family, especially one as important as Peeta was to Katniss, without throwing a holiday into the mix. Now, not only was there the normal amount of pressure to be expected from that, but added to it was the hustle and bustle, the overeating, the uncomfortable dinner table silences (or, on the opposite end of the spectrum, too much and too loud of talk), and in general, the attempt to get a big group of complete strangers to like you.

For Peeta to suggest it, he must have been hitting the cooking sherry. Katniss had heard that phrase on an old TV show…

Well, turned out Peeta wasn’t sauced, and when she questioned him, he said inviting her over to meet his family on Thanksgiving was purely for practical purposes. He said the timing just fell as such and that it was a rare opportunity when the whole Mellark clan would be together, for one of his brothers had moved out of state and his other was insanely busy with his own family.

Peeta thought it best for her to meet his family in one fell swoop and get it over with… That didn’t sound good.

Katniss and Peeta had been dating for going on six months now, but their love story was practically written in the stars. From the moment they met, there was a connection unrivaled by any two people. They both felt it, although Peeta was much better at expressing things like that. It took Katniss a while to realize what it was, herself.

Yes, their growing together, and eventually being together, had been a long time in the making. Peeta said he knew they were meant to be from the start, but for Katniss, it was a period of discovery. Theirs was an age-old friends-to-lovers tale. Two inseparable people coming to realize they care more about each other (and in a different way) than simple friends, even best friends. They’d been there for each other through thick and thin over the course of the last few years, through good times and hardships, stood by one another during familial issues and the stress of school and new jobs.

And eventually something more awakened, something physical‒raw and magnetic.

Yet, she still hadn’t met his family.

Briefly, Katniss wondered if Peeta wanted her to meet his family all of sudden because he was thinking of taking their relationship to the next level. She wasn’t sure what that level might be, though. They were already sleeping together regularly, and last month, she’d agreed to move in with him. That was a big challenge for any couple to face, but so far, it was going fantastic.

As for marriage, they’d never really talked about it; although Katniss knew Peeta wanted it someday, and he knew she didn’t look favorably on it. Oh, it wasn’t for lack of ability to commit or any kind of stance Katniss was taking against the institution. Plain and simple, it was because of her parents. Katniss’s mother had completely fallen apart when her father died, and Katniss feared the same thing happening to her.

Yeah, that was probably why they’d never discussed it. Neither of them wanted to ruin the great thing they had going.

However, both were in too deep now, anyway. And Katniss planned on being with Peeta forever. Whether they got married or not, she couldn’t fathom anyone but Peeta by her side for the rest of her days. That is, if he could accept that she may never want marriage or children…she worried about it sometimes…

But no, her Peeta would never abandon her, no matter what.

Then again, now there was this whole meeting his family thing…and she didn’t know what it meant. Could it be Peeta trying to tell her he wanted something more? Or, was it just a formality, an ‘oh well, you might as well meet them,’ even after all this time had passed?

Katniss felt nauseated just thinking about it.

But Peeta was important to Katniss, quite possibly the most important person in her life, as her father had died and she didn’t have a close relationship with her mother. The only other person who came close to Peeta was Katniss’s little sister, Primrose. The two of them were pretty much tied for her affections. Yes, Peeta and Prim were the most important people in the world to Katniss, and the only two people she was sure she loved.

Katniss would do just about anything to make Peeta happy. And she really didn’t want to mess this up.

She wanted this to go well more badly than she wanted one of Peeta’s gooey cheese buns right now. Consequently, he’d made some for Thanksgiving dinner, but he wouldn’t let her sneak any. The rat! Said she’d spoil her appetite or some crap like that. Of course, on the way over, he’d informed her that he’d set some aside just for her and that he’d slip them to her later because he had a feeling his hoggish brothers would take way more than their fair share.

They were on their way over now, and Katniss was anxious and famished. How long did Peeta say the drive was? An hour-and-a-half-ish?

Sensing her nervous energy, and probably feeling the bounce of her leg, Peeta glanced over. He snuck his hand across the console and laid it over her hand, which rested on her black stockinged leg. Since she was wearing a dress, tights were a must as it was cold and pantyhose ripped too easily.

And that was another thing, having to stress over what to wear. As ridiculous as it was to do it for this reason, she’d settled on a nice sweater dress to impress his family. To make her look like a proper lady or some nonsense she’d made up in her head. She knew Peeta wouldn’t have cared if she’d gone in a ratty sweater and old jeans, but apparently, she was trying to be someone she wasn’t, for his sake. Now, the fact that the dress was sunset orange, that was all for him.

“Have I told you that you look beautiful, sweetheart?” Peeta asked, smiling affectionately.

“Yes,” Katniss replied. “Several times. But thank you, again.”

Peeta chuckled. “And I like that you wore my favorite color.”

“I knew you would.” She smirked. His eyes had practically bulged out of their sockets when he caught sight of her attire, and they were almost late heading out.

“And I know you’re uncomfortable wearing it, but I promise to get you out of it just as soon as possible.” He gave her a wry grin and squeezed her leg suggestively.

It actually wasn’t all that uncomfortable, but she definitely wasn’t going to turn down Peeta’s offer, especially when she’d had the very difficult task of turning him down earlier, for lack of time.

“I’m gonna hold you to that,” said she, grinning over at him.

He stroked her leg, causing a frisson of energy and a quivering between her legs. Inadvertently, she squeezed her thighs together. If he kept this up, well…it would be so good, but then again, not…

Fortunately and unfortunately, Peeta soon turned from amorous to serious. And he almost seemed as nervous as she was about tonight. Not exactly reassuring…

“You know, Katniss, it’s not too late to back out.”

Katniss wasn’t expecting that at all, and it made her wonder. Did he really think she’d say, sure, yeah, turn the car around, or drop me off at the local…wherever? Considering they’d gone rather far to go back home now, it wasn’t very practical.

“What’s the matter, Peeta?” She played off her unease in a teasing manner, “Are you ashamed of me or something?”

“No way, I want everyone to meet you.” He laced his fingers through hers. “I just wish you didn’t have to meet them.”

Katniss laughed. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.” But really, she wasn’t.

“It will be,” Peeta assured, giving her hand a squeeze. “Although…I think I should prep you on a few things.”

“Prep me?” she asked curiously.

“Yeah.” He sighed, then went on to tell Katniss his main worries: that his parents would fight while they were there, that his brother would be an ass, that his uncle would (no question about it) be drunk and say or do something stupid…

That she would lump him in with this crazy lot and want nothing more to do with him…

But Katniss wasn’t expecting the perfect family or the perfect evening. Family was family, and every family had its…issues. Every family was crazy in its own way. And it was a holiday, which basically meant that people were either going to be on their best or worst behavior. But she was ready for it. She would go anywhere with Peeta.

When they arrived at the typical suburban home Peeta had grown up in, Katniss took a good long look, and she smiled. This was where Peeta grew up. And for that reason alone, she loved this house.

“Katniss?” Peeta broke her free from her trance.

“Yes, Peeta?”

He turned toward her, taking both of her hands in his. “Promise me something?”

“Anything,” she said, with so much emotion in her voice it shocked her.

“Promise me that…after tonight…that you’ll still love me.”

“What?”

Katniss nearly laughed at him, yet he was completely serious. But how could he be? It was utterly ridiculous. How could Peeta think that meeting his family would change anything? For someone to make her stop loving Peeta…no one could do that.

Still, Peeta’s baby blues were boring into her grays. So, she promised; fervently, she promised, and she sealed it with a deep kiss.

Seemingly convinced, Peeta beamed at her. He released one of her hands but kept hold of the other, and he turned the two of them to face the doorway. They stared at the red door for a long moment, the garish, brightly-colored fall wreath, gifted by his aunt, which his mother only put up once a year for her benefit, hung there, mocking them.

Peeta sucked in a deep breath and slowly released it. “Together?” he asked.

“Together,” she replied. Peeta opened the door, and they stepped over the threshold of the Mellark home as one.

—-

Peeta’s mother was the first one they saw upon entry. Clearly coming from the kitchen, she was wiping her hands on her apron and looking a little displeased. She didn’t move to hug her son, nor did he make an attempt to.

“Mother.” Peeta greeted her in such a formal tone, though Katniss wasn’t surprised, considering all the things Peeta had told her. “Sorry to get you out of the kitchen. Thought I’d spare you the trouble and let myself in.”

Mrs. Mellark humphed, and Peeta ran his free hand through his curls.

“Uh, Mother, this is Katniss Everdeen, my girlfriend. Katniss, this is my mother, Helena Mellark.”

The tiny, sturdy woman looked Katniss up and down, a faint sneer curling her lips. Finally, she spoke, and Katniss rather wished she hadn’t. “She’s not very big. Not very pretty, either,” said Helena Mellark.

“Mother!” Peeta scowled at her, and they engaged in some kind of brief stare-down.

Not like she was good at breaking tension, but Katniss decided to give it a try. “Uh,” she cleared her throat, “this is for you.” And she handed off the dish Peeta and she had made together.

That was another frustrating thing about Thanksgiving‒having to make a huge meal, or even just bring a special dish and having to make the tough decision of what to bring.

And Katniss hated cooking. Oh, she wasn’t a bad cook, exactly, and Peeta, bless his heart, had tried teaching her and garnering her interest, but it just wasn’t how she wanted to spend her time.

Peeta’s mother gave Katniss a cursory ‘thank you’ and a ‘pleased to meet you’ as she accepted the dish. It didn’t sound genuine, but it was progress, Katniss supposed.

At that, Mrs. Mellark turned her back and waved them into the foyer. They followed her for a moment, but fortunately, she headed for the kitchen, and Peeta veered Katniss off toward the living room.

“Saved the worst for first,” Peeta quipped, squeezing Katniss’s hand tightly. “All part of the plan.”

“Oh yeah?” Katniss muttered, still a bit shaken by his mother’s coldness toward him and her disapproval of her. 0 for 2. But so what if his mother didn’t like her? She seemed like a witch, anyway. And at least Peeta had begun to defend her before she interrupted. She was glad she had. As much as she disliked Peeta’s mother from what he’d told her, she didn’t think it would make Peeta feel good to get in a fight with her over his girlfriend on a holiday.

“Don’t worry. It’ll be gravy from here on out,” promised Peeta, obviously trying to sound soothing. “Well, sort of.”

“You’re not instilling me with much confidence,” said she. He responded by pulling her tight against his body and kissing the side of her head.

As they headed into the living room, Christmas piano music, laughter, and loud talking could be heard. Ah, the sounds of family…

The atmosphere seemed nice enough, but why did Katniss feel like she was being lined up to be shot, or perhaps have her tongue cut out?

Peeta’s two brothers were there; they had to be his brothers, anyway, for they looked almost exactly like him. All three Mellark boys were stunning and could easily be shampoo models with that gorgeous blond hair of theirs. They were all stocky, too, although Peeta was slightly shorter and bulkier than his brothers. But Katniss liked that. She loved his big, strong physique.

Peeta was definitely the most clean-cut. His face was clean-shaven, unlike the other two, who both appeared to have at least a day’s worth of stubble. And Peeta’s hair was gelled to perfection, whereas Rye’s was a tousled mess and Brant’s was neatly combed back but thinning.

Peeta proudly introduced his father, Graham, who was as jolly as Santa Claus. The older Mellark told Katniss how glad he was to meet her and tentatively reached out to her. She allowed it, and Peeta’s father gave her the gentlest bear hug she’d ever had.

Then, Peeta officially introduced his older brothers, Rye and Brant, and Brant introduced his wife and pointed out his kids.

Brant Mellark, Peeta’s eldest brother, was polite, but he didn’t say much. His wife, Elena, was friendly, though, and beautiful. Like Peeta and his brother’s, she was blonde and blue-eyed, and she wore her hair in perfect curls.

The second Elena met Katniss, she squealed, “Oh my, Peeta, your girlfriend is so…exotic!”

Katniss had gotten the ‘exotic’ comment quite a bit, and a few people had even asked her where she was born as if she was born in some faraway land. She wasn’t always sure the exotic thing was supposed to be a compliment, but Brant’s wife seemed nice enough, so she assumed that, in her case, it was.

Peeta shrugged at Elena’s remark. “I don’t know about exotic; all I know is she’s beautiful.” He took Katniss’s hand and kissed it.

Rye made a gagging noise.

The middle Mellark brother, Rye, was basically a twerp of epic proportions, which was hard to believe of a guy in his early thirties. Right off the bat, he’d teased Peeta about not letting go of Katniss’s hand, and he’d started hitting on Katniss and calling himself the superior Mellark brother. Katniss had challenged that straight off, pointing out all of Peeta’s excellent qualities and how he had him beaten in every way. Rye had slunk off with his tail between his legs, but he kept casting glances her way. Peeta’d apologized for him and kissed Katniss’s cheek.

“Rye, aren’t you a little old to be grossed out by affection?” Peeta pointed out.

“Just when you do it, little brother,” taunted Rye.

Next to meet was Peeta’s regal, old-fashioned grandmother, who Peeta suggested not mentioning the fact that they were living together and having sex to because she had strict views on the matter. Again, he emphasized that it wasn’t that he was ashamed, but it just might make things uncomfortable. Not like Katniss was planning on opening with that one, anyway. It didn’t seem likely to come up, either, but with family, you never know.

Then Peeta’s mother’s sister, Effie, arrived, late. She wore a dress that looked like it was made of turkey feathers and some silky type of material. Not long after came Peeta’s father’s brother, Haymitch, a crotchety old drunk, who supposedly had some kind of twisted love-hate thing going with Effie, according to Peeta.

Effie shrieked in a high-pitched, affected accent over how amazing Katniss’s eyes were. She didn’t think they were so amazing, though. Gray. Kinda plain, if you asked her. But other people seemed to think it was ‘exotic.’

When Katniss met Haymitch, she was standing next to Effie. “Nice dress,” he commented, giving Katniss a thorough look, then glancing over at Effie’s. “Not yours,” he told Effie. And she scowled at him.

Haymitch proceeded to tell Katniss a story about how Peeta had helped him shower off the vomit after he’d gotten good and drunk, much to Peeta’s chagrin.

Peeta scrubbed a hand down his face. “What a great Thanksgiving story, Uncle Haymitch! And God, why in front of my girlfriend?”

“What? I was tryin’ to give ya a compliment, boy! Tellin’ sweetheart here that she’s got a good one. Good at taking care of people. Shows fine qualities for a husband and father.”

Peeta must have seen that it made Katniss a bit uncomfortable because he deflected. “Yeah, well, you are like a giant baby, Uncle Haymitch.”

Most everyone in the room laughed, including Katniss. Not Haymitch, of course.

“Hey,” growled Haymitch. He turned to Katniss, then. “Well, even though he said that, ya still got a good one, sweetheart. I don’t know ya, but ya could probably live a hundred lifetimes and not deserve him.”

“Haymitch,” groaned Peeta. “You’re wrong. Katniss is definitely the one who’s too good for me.”

That earned some awws, and of course, another gag from Rye.

As soon as they were relatively alone, off in a corner and out of earshot, Katniss thanked Peeta for what he’d said, and the two of them whispered about Haymitch and Effie’s interaction and the strange timing of them arriving within seconds of each other. Peeta’s theory was that something was going on between them.

Once the pleasantries were done with, the family headed to the dining room to have their Thanksgiving dinner. The table was nicely set with a huge spread, but there was the issue of who would cut the turkey. Usually, Peeta’s father did it, but he had burned his hand this morning at the bakery, so he offered the job to one of his sons. No one was stepping up, though. Odd, considering Peeta was pretty good with a knife.

“I can do it,” chimed Katniss, much to everyone’s surprise. Graham smiled at her and presented her with his special turkey-cutting knife that had been in the Mellark family for years.

Rye was still being a pain and began crowding Katniss, pretending as though he was going to stick his hand in the way just as she prepared to cut. Both his brothers and his father warned him, Graham saying he didn’t need to take anyone to the emergency room tonight, but Rye wouldn’t listen.

“Don’t you touch that, Rye,” warned Katniss one last time. Honestly, she’d had enough of this man-child. As anticipated, Rye didn’t listen and kept sliding his hand forward, just to screw with her, so Katniss did what any normal girl who’s handy with a knife would do in such a situation‒she stuck it right between his index and middle finger.

Awed and horrified looks and a few gasps resounded in the room, Effie’s ringing above the others. “That is mahogany!” Effie exclaimed, horrified by Katniss’s barbaric behavior.

But not everyone was so horrified.

Uncle Haymitch was chuckling off to the side. “Oh, relax, sweetheart. Loosen your corset.” Effie glared at him. “You, too, Helena.” Peeta’s uncle glanced over at Peeta’s frowning mother. “The girl didn’t hurt the table none! All she did was kill a placemat!” Haymitch bellowed. “A cheap one at that.”

Haymitch was right, of course. The knife hadn’t even gone through the plastic turkey placemat, and that was Katniss’s intention. She hadn’t meant to ruin the Mellark’s table; she had, however, meant to scare Rye and get the fake turkey straight through the eye.

Mission accomplished.

Katniss briefly met Haymitch’s similarly colored eyes, and she swore she saw something akin to respect there. Had she just earned Peeta’s uncle’s approval?

She looked to Peeta, then. His blue eyes were wide, and he was quiet. She wondered if she’d humiliated him. Probably so. Honestly, he couldn’t take her anywhere! How could she do that?

Contritely, Katniss removed the knife, and Rye carefully pulled his hand back, taking time to examine all his fingers thoroughly to make sure they were still in-tact.

“Did you see that?!” Rye practically shouted, though he didn’t seem mad. “She almost chopped off my fingers! But she didn’t. She missed on purpose.” Don’t be so sure, Rye, thought Katniss. “That was amazing!”

Peeta’s mother didn’t seem to think it was so amazing, though. She must hate her more than ever now. And Effie clearly thought she was a total heathen. But when she looked back at Peeta again, he was smiling at her. She smiled back.

Brant was also impressed, as was Peeta’s dad. Graham didn’t quite know what to say at first, but he finally came out with, “Your girl sure has spunk, Peet.” And he gave Katniss a big smile.

Katniss finished carving the turkey with precision, and nearly everyone oohed and ahhed over her skills. Then they all sat down to a ginormous dinner of turkey, stuffing, noodles, mashed potatoes, etc, and of course, plenty of freshly baked bread.

However, between Peeta’s middle brother’s lascivious glances, his mother’s looks of disdain, his uncle’s occasional drunken belching, and the general chaos around them, Katniss was fairly certain she was at the threshold of hell.

It could always be worse, though, right? At least the food was good. So good she couldn’t get enough, in fact.

Katniss had already put away a plate and a half of Thanksgiving fixings and two whole cheese buns (the larger, cheesier ones Peeta had made especially for her). She hadn’t even gotten to the dessert table; yes, an entire table dedicated to desserts‒pastries, cookies, and several different pies, including chocolate and the traditional pumpkin. It all looked mouth-watering.

She knew she should have eaten a little something today. Truth be told, she was saving room for the large meal, but to her shock, her stomach seemed to be a bottomless pit tonight.

Peeta glanced over, concerned, probably wondering if she was so nervous she was stress eating.

“Sweetheart, you okay?” he whispered in her ear.

“Yeah,” she whispered back, “just really hungry…” She did have a habit of snacking when she was stressed; although, this seemed like more than usual.

Peeta gave her thigh a squeeze under the table, and Katniss looked at him questioningly. Was he trying to be reassuring, or was he getting frisky? Surely not the latter. Not at his parents’ house on a holiday. She was pretty sure it was a comforting one, given the context, but she checked his face. She’d be able to tell by the look in his eyes, whether there was a playful twinkle or they were steady and comforting.

“Wow, your girlfriend can really pack it away,” commented Rye, breaking their moment. Peeta pressed his lips together and glared at his older brother. But that didn’t stop Rye. “She eats like I did when I was training for football. How does she stay so thin?”

“Metabolism,” responded Katniss.

Peeta smiled and nodded. “And speaking of football, Rye,” he turned his attention on his brother, “you may have trained, but you quit after the second game.” He looked back over at Katniss, and they exchanged grins. Okay, so he was hitting below the belt a little, but Rye deserved it after the way he’d been tormenting Katniss all evening.

“One day that’ll all catch up with her,” remarked Peeta’s mother. “It’ll settle in those nice, trim hips of hers.” Peeta stiffened beside Katniss. He swallowed thickly, and Katniss was fairly certain he was prepared to say something to her.

And he did. “No matter if it does or not, Mother. Katniss will always be beautiful to me.”

Katniss smiled at her boyfriend faintly. She appreciated him sticking up for her and also the fact that he’d love her no matter what she looked like‒and it didn’t really bother her, because she knew she could stand to gain some weight‒but she hated this whole need to validate themselves to his family. She didn’t like how they were always ripping on him, either.

Dinner ended, and Peeta’s mother began the dishes. Out of politeness, even though she didn’t like her, Katniss offered to help the witch. Peeta’s mother informed her that they had a dishwasher, but of course, it was going to take several loads, so Katniss suggested she could do the excess by hand, which was how she was used to doing it growing up.

Helena let her.

After dinner and the dishes were done, the Mellarks switched immediately into Christmas mode. Peeta’s father took Rye, Brant, and his kids to pick out a live Christmas tree. While they were gone, Peeta’s mom and Brant’s wife got out the Christmas decor; they had it out before Katniss could offer to help.

But they let Katniss join in decorating once the tree was set up. It was pure chaos, though kind of fun.

When things settled down, Katniss took a good look around. The place did look festive, and the atmosphere wasn’t bad with the lights and the tree up, the quieter talking and the drinking of hot chocolate and the eating of cookies. Family. She supposed there were some nice things about it.

Before they left, Peeta snuck Katniss up to his room as if they were teenagers. Over his doorway, he’d strategically placed a piece of mistletoe, which they both had to walk under. Keeping with tradition, Peeta swept Katniss into his arms and planted a long, deep kiss on her. They made out and felt each other up for a good 3-5 minutes before slipping back downstairs. Any longer would have made the others suspicious, and if they’d kept going, they might have ended up naked in Peeta’s old bedroom. And that wouldn’t do. Not on Thanksgiving, anyway…

Still, the idea had its merits, and frankly, it’d excited Katniss a little bit. She couldn’t wait to get him home.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #autumn #autumn 2020 #mandelion82 #submission #prompt

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ears-awake-eyes-opened · 4 years

Text

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.

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everlarkrealornot · 6 years

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The PANEM Initiative, Chapter Twenty-Two

Sorry loves! Its been forever since I updated! I had meant to have this ready in time for Christmas and you can all see how that went since is February now! lol

Chapter 22

Katniss loved Christmas. The lights. The cookies. The comfy sweaters. The smell of pine and peppermint – she loved it all and so had her father. On Christmas Eve they would open their stockings after dinner, a new pair of socks or slippers, a mug, and a special ornament. Then they would stay up and watch a movie and drink hot chocolate. Christmas morning usually consisted of Katniss holding Prim back from waking their parents up until 7am and then tearing into their few presents. They would then spend the rest of the day eating food, watching movies, and playing games.

Katniss hung the now empty stockings back up over the arch way, touching each one before grabbing her new mug and slippers and carrying them into the kitchen. She had cleared out a few of the old mugs from their cabinet the other day, discarding the chipped ones and storing the ones they simply no longer used in the basement. She placed the three new mugs on the shelf and smiled to herself as she closed the cabinet – dad would have been happy.

She glanced at the clock on the wall, 12:23am. It was Christmas morning and Peeta was going to be there soon. She slid her feet into her slippers and hurried to her room to find a sweater, grabbing a crumpled one off the floor before going back to the living room. She smiled as she looked out the window and saw Peeta pulling into the driveway.

“Hi.” She held out a cup of hot chocolate to him as he hung up his coat.

“Hi.” He took the cup and wrapped his free arm around her waist and planted a kiss on the top of her head. “Sorry, I’m late…I wasn’t sure you were still up when I texted you.” He kicked off his boots and followed her to the couch.

“You said the bakery was crazy.” She tucked her knees up under her chin and sipped on her drink.

“Yeah…” he rubbed a hand over his face, “I’m not a big fan of Christmas.”

“Grinch!” Katniss playfully hit his arm.

“You would be too if you were forced to work every Christmas Eve.” He stared at his mug while he talked.

Katniss winced at his words – holidays were always special at her house but she knew they had been hard for him.

His grandpa had built the bakery when he young, just out of high school. Henry had grown up in the bakery and knew he was going to own it one day, but that day came much sooner than he thought when his father had a bad fall, breaking his hip and crushing one of his hands. Ryen was two when Henry and Ida moved into the house and took over the bakery. His grandparents moved into a small place of their own, which the boys visited as often as their mother would let them. Peeta had just turned 12 when his grandpa passed away and then six months later his grandma did. But before that, the boys had spent every Thanksgiving and Christmas afternoon at their house without their mother.

“I’m sorry, I know things haven’t been the same for you since your grandparents passed.” Katniss took his free hand in hers and squeezed. He smiled and sat his mug down on the coffee table before trailing his free hand over her exposed neck, moving her braid out of the way.

“It’s been five years and it still feels strange to stay home holidays.” He rubbed her neck absentmindedly while he talked. “I’m glad I have you now.”

“Me too.” She finished her drink and sat her mug down. “Do you think your dad will ever close on Christmas Eve? I know it was your mom’s idea to work it.” Peeta snorted and shook his head.

“No. It’s one of the biggest nights for us.” He looked at her and slid his arm down around her waist. “But working Christmas Eve won’t be so bad if I get to see you right after.”

He leaned in and kissed her, capturing her bottom lip between his. She grabbed the front of his shirt and held on, kissing him back.

“Wow,” she whispered when then broke apart for air.

“I missed that,” he said as he ran his thumb over her swollen lips.

“Mhm,” Katniss hummed in agreement.

Peeta smiled and leaned back in, but Katniss placed a hand on his chest, stopping him and making him groan.

“I have something for you before we continue.” She hopped up and grabbed something from under the tree. “As you know,” she turned back to him, holding whatever it was behind her back, “in this house we have a Christmas Eve tradition of opening stockings and even though it is technically after midnight, it’s still the night before Christmas morning.” She held out to him a red stocking, stuffed to the top, with his name embroidered across the top in green.

“I get my own stocking?” he asked as he took it. Katniss shrugged.

“Prim and my mom want you to feel like part of the family.” She sat back down next to him. “And so do I.” He cupped her face and kissed her quickly.

“Thank you.” He slowly tipped the contents of the stocking into his lap. He smiled at the socks with paint brushes all over them.

“My mom found those,” she said. “And Prim found this.” She held up his new mug.

“‘I’m not perfect but I’m a baker so close enough’” he read. “That’s awesome!” He kissed her again.

“There’s one more thing.” She reached into his stocking and handed him something wrapped in tissue paper. He unwrapped it slowly, a confused look on his face and then recognition dawned on him.

“It’s a cheese bun ornament!” He laughed. “Where did you find this?”

“I had to special order it…the lady had cinnamon rolls in store, but when I asked her about a cheese bun, she said no problem.”

“That is…” he sat the ornament on the table next to his new mug, “Kat, I love it.”

“I’m glad.” She took the empty stocking and hung it next to hers. “Merry Christmas Eve, Peeta.”

“Merry Christmas Eve.” He stood up and wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her off the ground and kissing her. “Thank you.”

“It’s freezing out here!” Katniss said through chattering teeth. Peeta pulled her tighter against his side and ran his hand up and down her arm.

“It’s worth it!” She heard Prim say.

They had just finished Christmas dinner at the Mellark’s when Henry and Helen had excitedly had Prim and Ryen tie blindfolds over Peeta and Katniss’s eyes. They had been led outside and onto the porch without stopping to pull coats on.

“Okay! Take your blindfolds off!” Helen told them and they both reached up, pulling the fabric away from their faces.

“Surprise!” Sitting in the Mellark’s driveway was a green Jeep.

“Is that our new car?!” Peeta shouted.

“It’s not new, but yes.” Henry clapped his son on his back. “We knew that with Katniss’s new job, between the two families, we needed another car.”

Katniss turned to her mom and pulled her into a tight hug. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“You’re welcome, honey.”

“Here,” Henry handed Peeta a key, “Go take it for a drive!”

Katniss stared in awe at the amount of food that was covering the Mellark’s dinner table.

“Do you really think you’ll need this much food?” she asked as Peeta piled up the cubes of bread for the cheese fondue. “I thought it was supposed to be a small New Year’s Eve party?”

“Rye and Bran got a little carried away with inviting people.” He smirked and popped a piece of bread in his mouth. “I know parties aren’t your thing,” he wrapped his arms around her waist, “but if you want to ditch the party early, I’ll come celebrate midnight with you.” Katniss smiled at him.

“That’s very sweet, but you’ve been looking forward to this party, so I’m gonna stay.” She pulled his lips down to hers and laced her fingers through his hair. He tightened his hold on her and moved his lips slowly against hers.

“Good god! Get a room!” Bran sneered in disgust as he pushed them out of the way so he could put more food on the table.

“Maybe we will. What time is it?” Peeta pulled his wrist up to his eyes dramatically. “Oh, party doesn’t start for another two hours?...We’ll be upstairs!” He winked at Bran and pulled Katniss after him, her cheeks bright red.

The days between Christmas and New Year’s Eve were like a dream for Katniss. She would spend her days with Prim, watching old movies and playing games, and her evenings with Peeta. Since his open declaration of love, their cuddling had turned to kissing, which had turned to full on making out, which had turned into exploration each other again. And this afternoon was no exception.

“As much as I love laying here and kissing you, I am starving.” Peeta extracted himself from Katniss’s arms and legs and stood up. “Plus, just kissing you is killing me.” He found his t-shirt and pulled it on.

“I remember quite a bit more than just kissing,” she said, popping herself up on her elbow.

“That’s the part that’s killing me.” He knelt on the bed and kissed her again. “Come on, people will be here soon.”

“So?” She grabbed ahold of his shirt and brought him crashing back down on top of her. She captured his lips with hers and swept her tongue across his teeth. Peeta groaned as she ran her hand down his front and rubbed.

“Katniss!” He hissed her name in frustration.

“What?” she asked, giving him a cheeky grin. He shook his head at her and pushed himself off the bed, away from her wandering hands.

He rubbed his face and took a deep breath. “I love you…but you’re slowly killing me.”

where are you? – P

hiding – K

madge go home? – P

yes – K

do you want to come play cards? – P

this introvert needs some space – K

k – P

ill see you at midnight – K

*click*

Katniss looked up from the game she was playing on her phone, anger washing over her the moment she did.

“Using the office as your hideout?” Gale asked.

“Yes.” She pulled her feet off the desk and sat up straight. Gale scanned the bookshelf, trying to look interested but failing.

“Looking forward to your new job?” he asked as he sat down on the couch.

“Yes.” She shifted uneasily in her chair – she was still pissed at him for the way he had acted after he found out about her feelings for Peeta. “What do you want, Gale?”

“I miss hanging out with my best friend,” he said sheepishly.

“You have a funny way of showing it,” she bit out. He stared at her in silence, a frown on his face. “Look, it’s almost midnight,” she pushed her chair back and stood up, “I’ve got to go.”

“I’ve been a shitty friend,” he said as she reached the office door. “I’m sorry.”

Katniss sighed and walked over to the couch, sitting down.

“I miss you too.” She leaned over and gave him a hug. He squeezed her tightly. “But, things have to change.”

“What things?” Gale asked as he let her go.

“You are going to have to accept that Peeta is in my life,” Gale started to nod, “…and that I like him,” she added. He clenched his jaw quickly before nodding.

“Fine.”

Katniss knew the next point was going to upset him and that his reaction would set the tone for their friendship going forward.

“You can’t come in through my window anymore.” She held her breath waiting for his temper tantrum.

“I always have.” He sat back and crossed his arms.

“I know,” Katniss agreed.

“Does Peeta have some objection to it?” he asked, an edge of irritation in his voice.

“No, but I know it bothers him and he is just too much of a good guy to say anything.” She wasn’t going to risk the progress that she had made with Peeta just so Gale could have things his way.

“Letting your fiancé’s feelings come before yours, how honorable.” He rolled his eyes.

“Isn’t it though?” She spat at him and stood up. She marched over to the door and threw it open.

“Katniss, wait, I’m sorry!” Gale called as he walked after her. She weaved her way through the group of people in the dining room and hurried into the empty kitchen, heading for the stairs. “I’m sorry,” Gale said as he caught her elbow before she could run away. “Katniss, please.”

“It’s not like it was before,” she explained.

“I know…I’m just not used to having to share you.” He gave her a small smile but she frowned.

“You still don’t get it Gale, you’re not the one who is sharing me!” She stamped her foot in frustration.

“I do get it! You’ve been matched – you have a fiancé, but that doesn’t mean you can’t have friends!” He gestured between her and himself.

“Ten, nine, eight, seven, six,”

“That’s not what I’m saying…all I meant was that...I just…I just need things need to be less complicated.”

“Five, four, three,”

“And they will be,” he said as he took a step closer.

“Two,”

“You promise?” she asked.

“One!” The others in the dining room and living room erupted into celebration.

“Happy New Year, Catnip.” Gale leaned down and placed a small kiss on cheek.

“That makes it complicated, Gale,” she whispered.

“I know.” He gave her a tight smile and left.

Katniss sighed heavily and raked her fingers through her hair.

“You always said it was complicated.”

She turned and saw Peeta.

Buy Me A Coffee?

#everlark #thg #the hunger games #au #arranged marriage #kate writes #tpi

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everlarkholidaystyle · 6 years

Text

Katniss Decorates

@litlifelover Today its all about a Christmas tale and nothing says story like Katniss stepping into Peeta’s shoes. In beta’d all mistakes are mine.

Rated G:

"Flipping jackrabbits," Katniss scowled at the wreath she held in her hands. Making a bow shouldn't be hard, but here she was twenty three minutes into the process and she'd hadn't been able to make a straight bow with the shiny fabric.

"I hate it, I hate this..." Katniss mumbled under her breath. "It doesn't look right....agggghhhh!!" A pine needle stabbed her underneath the fingernail her index finger. She dropped it as if it were hot a coal narrowing her eyes at the inanimate object.

This hurt, and her eyes watered, and she was an expert on pain. She’d suffered through two Games and the Rebellion. But this hurt most because this was for him. Her boy with the bread, the boy who could make her feet curl with a simple kiss. Or make her how with pleasure with those skillful baker hands of his.

They’d grown close, so much more that there were times they finished the other’s sentences and communicate with a glance. Katniss loved Peeta and that is why she was sitting in his home nursing an injured finger frustrated.

She wanted the house to look perfect.

Peeta was sick and he would have done this on his own, then gone over her home and done the same thing. Katniss didn’t care for the hype of decorations or Christmas itself but for him she was willing to push past her discomfort to do something nice.

Squaring her shoulders she resolved to finish the wreath, set up the tree, and hang the garland. Picking up the wreath she bit her bottom lip and gingerly untied the bow and re-knotted it twice just like he did with his shoes.

Next she took pine cones, cinnamon sticks, and red berries and with fishing wire she tied it to the wreath. Satisfied, she smiled and gave herself a pat on the back. Next she moved on to the tree she’d selected and hauled here by herself. She was glad she used her stealth like moves to bring the tree inside without Peeta noticing.

He was so sick he didn’t notice when she went upstairs to check up on him. Her heart fluttered with love when she saw his red nose and splotchy cheeks. She wanted to pepper him with kisses and hold him, but she didn’t and came downstairs to decorate for him.

She placed the tree in the stand but no matter how she arranged it the tree fell down.“Daggonit!”

She was sweaty and sticky with tree sap by the time she finally got the tree up. She decorated it with ribbon, berries, pinecones and popcorn strands. She was lucky she knew how to sew, something she’d learned from living in the Seam. It was always necessary to mend clothing, nothing was discarded. Standing back, she tilted her head, “Okay, this is good.”

Hanging the garland presented a different challenge, a vertical one. She had to climb to tie the decorated greenery. It was a much slower process since her arms didn’t stretch that far, she’d nearly fallen a few times.

When finished Katniss cleaned up, made a small fire and made soup, and went upstairs to leave it for him on his bedside. But he looked so good and comfortable on the bed that she slipped out of her sweater, jeans and climbed into bed with him and yawning twice she fell asleep.

Twenty minutes later Peeta woke up feeling better than he had in days. In his arms slept Katniss, her head nestled on his chest. He sighed contented, and stayed there a few minutes happily holding her. He glanced outside and saw that it was snowing, his stomach growled, showing that he needed to eat.

Getting up he noted the tray with the soup. He smiled as he put on his prosthetic. It warmed his heart to know she’d come over to watch over him. He wanted to ask her to stay, here with him. Most of her stuff was here, there were days she she didn’t leave his place. He thought maybe he’d broach the subject after he gotten better.

He and touched the bowl it was tepid, he liked his soup hot. Peeta grabbed the bowl and quietly walked out of the room. He padded down the hallway his free hand he ran his hand through his unruly curls. He wanted a haircut, but Katniss liked it long.

When he reached the landing at the bottom of the stairs he stood shocked. Someone had decorated his house, poorly.

The tree was tilted on its side, the garland was unevenly hung, and the wreath wasn't round. The bow looked like it had seen better days.

“What do you think?”

At hearing Katniss shy voice he turned to see her standing basically with his shirt, her socks pooled at her ankles. Her hair was loose, she gazed at him bashfully.

“You did this?” His mouth hung open. Suddenly the tree didn't look so crooked, the wreath looked round, perhaps the garland needed help. It hit him Katniss had decorated for him. He was humbled by her gift.

She nodded, “This our home. I know how much you like this but you've been sick and...I just-" She shrugged.

“I love it.”

She beamed at him.

He sneezed.

She frowned,”Peeta go upstairs back to bed, I'll heat up your food.”

Peeta acquiesced the smile did not rub off because Katniss had decorated their home.

#secret santa

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javistg · 6 years

Text

Secret Santa Reveal

Now that my Secret Santa cover has been blown, I can share the small Everlark treats I wrote for @moviefangal this month.

I want to thank the lovely ladies over at @loveinpanem, for organising this fun activity and for keeping our fandom connected and engaged during the holidays.

To everyone else, happy holidays! Hope you enjoy!

First Snow

Katniss peered through the open window and smiled.

The sky was blue, the sun shone bright, the unblemished snow sparkled under its light. It was as if winter had come overnight.

From across the yard, Peeta called out, "Hey, Katniss, wanna go out for a walk?"

Her heart rejoiced at the sight of him, his blonde waves tucked under a woolen cap and his warm, hopeful eyes holding on to her with a smile.

His pale cheeks were turning red in the wintry air.

Without a word, she grabbed her jacket and headed out the door.

New Traditions

“Are you sure about this?” she asked looking at the small sprig in her hand.

“Yes,” Peeta said, sounding knowledgeable. “Effie says that’s the tradition. People standing under the mistletoe have to kiss.”

Unconvinced, Katniss hung the green ornament from the door frame and moved to step down of the small stool where she stood.

Her feet had just touched the ground when Peeta wrapped an arm around her waist and brought her close.

Surprised, she leaned into him, relishing the feel of his heart beat against her chest.

With a gentle hand, Peeta cupped her cheek, lifting her chin to meet his gaze.

Lightheaded, Katniss melted into him, allowing his lips to find hers in a soft, tender kiss which sent a blast of warmth coursing through her veins.

Katniss’s heart soared, being so close to him was as sweet as it was addictive.

Her small hands tightened their hold on Peeta’s sweater, keeping him rooted in her arms.

A heartbeat later, Peeta pulled away and pressed his forehead against hers. “Seems to work just fine,” he said with a playful wink.

Prim’s Wish

My other Christmas drabbles and one shots.

#Secret santa #happy holidays #stuf I write #love in pan #yuletide in panem #my holiday fics #everlark drabbles

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xerxia31 · 7 years

Note

I wish you would write a fic where Katniss and Peeta are both single parents

Ahhh this took me forever, but I’m plodding my way through the prompts I’ve received, slowly but surely :) So this is a strange little bit of fluff.

Small World

rated T

In the small town where Peeta Mellark grew up, he was used to seeing the same people everywhere he turned. It was expected, really, that you’d bump into at least five neighbours, or teachers, or coworkers every trip to the grocery store. That’s how small towns worked.

But this wasn’t his small town. And in the bustling metropolis of just under a million people where he’d moved a year after the divorce, he’d been pretty much anonymous.

Until now.

Of course he’d noticed Archer Everdeen’s mother at meet the teacher night. The raven-haired beauty was hard to miss, with her silver eyes and incredible ass. But sticking his toes back into the dating pool definitely didn’t include the parents of his kindergarten students, however single they might be. (And according to Archer’s file, she was very single).

But Archer was a great kid, friendly and intelligent, hard-working and polite. There wasn’t going to be much need to speak to his mama. Which was a good thing, Peeta reminded himself.

o-o-o

Charlotte needed an afterschool activity, something more active than the arts-and-crafts program the school board offered. And living in the big city, Peeta thought his daughter might benefit from learning a martial art for self-defence, in spite of what his ex-wife thought of the idea (or maybe because of what Delly thought, if he was honest with himself.)

On the first night of karate classes, he met the dojo owner… Ms. Everdeen. She smiled in recognition as he took his seat with the other parents.

Watching her put Charlotte and the rest of the group of pseudo pyjama-clad six- and seven-year-olds through their paces did nothing to diminish his attraction to her. Still, it was nothing more than a coincidence, a consequence of there only being a single dojo in the west end of the city. A pleasant coincidence, to be sure. But nothing more.

o-o-o

But then he arrived for Charlotte’s semi-annual dental cleaning to find Ms. Everdeen and Archer sitting in the waiting room. “I’m starting to think you’re a stalker,” she laughed, her voice richer and more melodic than he remembered. And he grinned back. For five fabulous minutes, he found himself chatting with Katniss, as she insisted he call her, about the strangeness of giant small towns, before they got called away.

o-o-o

Of the thousands of parks in the city, how was it possible that they frequented the same one? Yet there they were, Archer in the swing, squealing in delight as Katniss pushed him. And Katniss, beautiful Katniss was there, dressed casually in jeans that highlighted that ass so much better than her karate gi did, and a hooded sweater in his favourite colour. Katniss who was rapidly becoming utterly irresistible to him. A stranger, a literal one-in-a-million in this city, but someone he kept seeing everywhere.

In five minute spurts between chasing their respective children, he learned more about her. And damn did like what he learned.

o-o-o

“Charlotte!” a little voice rang through the aquarium, where Peeta - and possibly half the city - had come to avoid the cold November rains. Peeta and his daughter both turned in tandem, twin blue eyes searching the crowd. A mop of ebony hair over silver eyes and a giant gap-toothed grin burst through the mob, waving wildly.

“Archer,” an exhausted Katniss chased after him, reprimand in her voice. “What did I tell you about running off?”

“But it’s Charlotte, mama, and Mr. Mellark. They’re not a strangers.”

o-o-o

“Now which one of us is the stalker?” Peeta smirked from his table at the little cafe where he liked to sketch every other Sunday afternoon, when he was waiting for Delly to bring Charlotte home from her court-mandated visitation. Katniss glanced over at the sound of his voice, her face lighting up.

“Well hello, Peeta,” she said, grabbing her cup and Archer’s from the barista and crossing the few steps to stand before him. Her black hair was loose today, partially covered by a red knit cap, and her cheeks were flushed from the cold. “Come here often?”

“I do,” he admitted, and she wrinkled her nose.

“Huh. My uncle owns this place,” she said, confusion in her voice. “Archer and I come here at least a couple of times a week.”

“No way,” he laughed. “What are the odds?”

Katniss regarded him thoughtfully. “With us,” she said, softly enough that he had to strain to hear her. “Seems like the odds are always in our favour.”

o-o-o

“Somehow I knew I’d see you here,” Katniss laughed, standing with a fidgeting Archer in the slowly-snaking line to see the mall Santa. There were eleven shopping centres in the city that had a Santa display, and three more weeks until Christmas. That she’d be at the one he chose seemed impossible. And yet…

“Well everyone knows that the Bayshore Santa is the only real Santa,” he drawled, moving seamlessly into line beside her. Katniss knelt to greet Charlotte who twirled, showing off her new Christmas dress. Katniss threw back her head, laughing at something Charlotte whispered to her. Peeta was transfixed. Watching his beautiful friend interact with his daughter made something long-dormant flare in Peeta’s gut. Something suspiciously like hope.

o-o-o

It had been a long time since Peeta had last gone to Christmas Eve Mass. But Delly had Charlotte until noon Christmas day (and not a minute later, damn it), and he was lonely and restless, not even certain what he was looking for.

The cathedral downtown was a marvel of Baroque styling, tall and graceful, and it was even more incredible decorated for Christmas with boughs of holly and evergreen, and tall candles flickering. He settled into a crowded pew and let the beauty of it all wash over him.

When the choir took their places to the side of the altar, the hair on the back of his neck stood up. There she was, robed in regal burgundy, just one face in the large group, but the one face that drew him like a magnet. Katniss. He didn’t hear any of the sermon, repeated the prayers by rote, all of his attention focussed only on her. And then she sang a solo.

The sound of her soulful voice crooning Mary Did You Know struck the congregation silent. Her voice and her words wrapped around his heart, freeing it from its stubborn confines, fluttering foolishly, laid bare.

And he knew, in that moment, that he was a goner.

o-o-o

“Fancy seeing you here,” he smirked, holding the door open for Katniss. She slapped his chest gently with the back of her hand.

“You invited me, doofus,” she laughed, levering up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

“That I did,” he said, ushering her into his modest apartment. “Where’s Archer tonight?” he asked, though he knew already.

“With my mother,” she grinned. “Until tomorrow afternoon.”

“Delly has Charlotte until four,” he murmured, toying with the strap of her sleek silver top. Despite seeing each other everywhere all of the time, despite having had playdates and family dates and one-child-or-the-other-had-to-come-at-the-last-minute dates, it had taken five, ten, fifteen weeks to arrange a date with neither child present. Though strange coincidences might have pushed them together, attempting to find alone time had left them all but star-crossed.

Until now.

“Nineteen hours,” Katniss sighed, leaning into him. “Let’s not waste a minute of it.” Peeta kissed his agreement into the warm skin of her throat.

Peeta wasn’t sure he believed in fate or providence or serendipity, couldn’t imagine that some giant celestial hand had picked their names from a big glass bowl. But he knew he believed in Katniss, and believed that what was developing between them was real.

And that was good enough for him.

I wish you would write a fic where…

#everlark #fic writing meme #xerxia writes

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ellanainthetardis · 7 years

Photo

Today there is an attempt at shaving, a phone call reunion and a stroll. It’s the small steps that count, they say ;) Let me know your thoughts!

[FF] or [AO3]

Chapter 11 : Ghost Town

Haymitch tried to fall asleep but the voices in his head wouldn’t shut up. The ghosts lurking in his mind were hungry and he didn’t have anything to dull their presence. Guilt and shame and sorrow… It all twisted and mixed in a deadly brew.

He remained sullen and apathetic when they finally took the stitches on his back out and he didn’t really acknowledge it when they told him he had been out for almost five days.

Five days seemed too little a time for the hell he had just been through but at the same time it seemed like too much.

He was lost, he wasn’t feeling quite like himself and he didn’t like it. He hated being that unsettled. He hated being diminished. The fact that he needed help to do simple things – like walk to the bathroom and back – was making him feel ashamed and Peeta’s forced casualness about it – while appreciated – only increased that feeling.

“You were never alone.” the boy whispered one evening. “Sometimes it looked like… It looked like you didn’t know that but… We never left you alone.”

It occurred to him that the boy felt guilty about forcing him through sobriety. He wished he knew how to tell him it wasn’t his fault but finding the right words to voice feelings had never been his strongest suit.

Katniss, on the other hand, didn’t seem to feel guilty at all. When she visited, she looked exactly just as on edge as he felt trapped in that bed.

“What’s wrong with you?” he grumbled after three days of watching her pacing a hole in his bedroom.

“The electric fence is back on.” she muttered, kicking the foot of the bed. “There’s no getting out now. We should have run when we had the chance.”

“Yeah, who’s that we?” he taunted, pretty sure of the answer. Peeta would never suggest running away. It wouldn’t even occur to the boy. Gale Hawthorne, now…

She flushed red and then scowled at him. “Oh, shut up.”

He rubbed his face, too exhausted for this bullshit. “How many conversations do we need to have about this?”

“I didn’t see him since he went back home with his mom.” she snapped. “I won’t see him again, alright? I got it.”

“Halle-fucking-lujiah.” he deadpanned.

“I’m glad it makes you so happy.” she sneered. “I’m going to marry someone I don’t love just so…”

“Peeta’s not your first choice, yeah, I got it.” he cut her off. “You think he doesn’t know? Let me tell you something, though. That boy loves you. I’ll-die-for-you loves you. That’s rare, sweetheart, and that takes courage. You’re spitting on that. Nobody’s asking you to be happy with the cards you’ve been dealt but maybe show some common decency, yeah? ‘Cause if you think Peeta’s any happier about this wedding than you are, you’re wrong. He’s just not making a scene about it every chance he gets like some spoiled toddler.”

She glared at him and stormed out, making sure to slam every door she could on her way out.

It did nothing for the permanent headache building behind his eyes.

He was sick and tired of lying in bed so he dragged himself to the shower. Like everything else lately, it was harder than it should have been. It was a struggle to reach the bathroom, it was as if his legs were out of practice. His muscles clenched and relaxed without any input from his brain.

He held onto the sink to keep himself upright and took a good long look in the mirror. He looked like hell. Dark circles under his eyes, pale complexion that looked less than healthy, beard eating half his face, tangled hair…

He had lost weight too.

He didn’t try to catch a glimpse of what his back now looked like. The scars wouldn’t be pretty and he didn’t feel he needed the visual. With a sigh, he accepted that he would never manage to stand long enough for a proper shower. He ran himself a bath instead.

He was completely exhausted by the time he lowered himself in the hot water. It wasn’t that bad a place to take a nap anyway. He washed himself quickly, feeling better once the grime of the last week was gone, and then he slumped down in the water, resting his head against the side of the tub.

He woke up with a crick in the neck and Peeta looking down at him.

He startled. Whatever foam had been in the water had long disappeared and, while he was aware the boy had been his main caretaker while he was out of it, it still made him feel awkward to be caught naked in his own bathtub.

“You mind giving a man some privacy?” he scowled.

“I’m sorry.” Peeta made a face. “You weren’t answering and I grew worried.”

“Well, I didn’t drown. Get out.” he growled.

“Yes, of course.” the boy nodded. “You’re sure you don’t need help?” He tossed the soap at the kid’s head who ducked and then lifted his hands in mock surrender. “Fine. I’ll be downstairs. You can shout when you want something to eat.”

He was so done with being coddled.

He hauled himself out of that bath, resolved to go back to some semblance of normalcy. He brushed his teeth for a good ten minutes, hoping it would get rid of the bad taste lingering in his mouth, and then considered the mess that was his hair. Shaving it all seemed the most practical solution but once the razor was in his hand, he wasn’t that sure anymore. The tremors weren’t as bad as when he had first woken up from his delirium a few days earlier but nobody would have been able to claim his hands were anywhere near steady.

He tried shaving his beard first with mildly successful results. He left uneven patches of stubble behind and more than a few cuts. He looked like a clumsy teenager after his first shave and he rolled his eyes at himself, giving up on the idea of doing anything to his hair.

Whatever.

He put on the first pair of sweatpants he found and slipped on the thickest woolen sweater he owned. The smell in his bedroom was awful and he opened the window, leaning out to breathe some fresh air. It smelt like spring. He hated that season. Spring meant a new reaping.

It also meant he had survived longer than he had expected to when Cinna had told him Thirteen had bailed out.

He was starting to think they really weren’t going to off him after all, just make his life a living hell.

The bed was a mess of dirty sheets even by his own standards so he changed it, grateful for the fresh linens Hazelle had stocked in the closet.

He was bone-deep tired when he was done with that and he was sure Aster would have had something to say about overdoing it but he pushed himself all the same and forced himself to walk down the stairs and to the kitchen where Peeta was doing… whatever with his oven. Something was boiling on the stove, smelling rather good, and his stomach grumbled.

“Should you be up?” the boy worried.

“Probably not.” he muttered, dropping on a chair. “So… What did I miss?”

“Not much.” Peeta shrugged, filling two plates of stew. It was mostly vegetables, Haymitch noticed, no meat. He was hungry but the idea of eating made him nauseous. He had long been conditioned to eat what was in front of him though, used to not knowing when the next hot meal would come. It had been a long time since he had had to worry about food but there were things that never went away. He stabbed a carrot with a fork without too much effort and it would probably have been impressive if he hadn’t been aiming for the turnip next to it. The thing in the oven turned out to be bread and Peeta distractedly cut the loaf in two while he talked. “They reopened the mines.”

“Good.” he commented with relief.

“But they cut down the wages in half.” the boy added with a wince.

“Less good.” he sighed, shaking his head. It would be a disaster in the long run.

He wondered if the same thing was happening in other Districts or if it was just them. He wondered if it was the Capitol’s way of reminding everyone of its strength or if it was meant as a punishment for Twelve’s victors.

“Thread likes Dad’s bread.” Peeta declared, almost out of the blue. “Mom tried to give it to him for free but he started talking about how bribes wouldn’t be accepted…”

“They’re alright?” he frowned.

Peeta stared at his plate rather than looking at him, never quite at ease when it came to talking about his family. “You know Mom. She can get out of anything.” He shrugged. “I guess we know Thread likes bread.”

“Great. What’s the plan, bread boy? Poison his next loaf?” Haymitch snorted, stabbing another carrot – one he had aimed for, this time. “You’ve got better plans usually. Sounds like something Katniss would come up with.”

“Well…” Peeta let his sentence trail off.

“Should have known.” he scoffed, rubbing his eyes. “That girl’s a menace. Talk her out of that, it’s the last thing we need.” They ate in silence for a while, lost to their own thoughts. It was only once he was cleaning the sauce on his place with his piece of bread that he talked again. “How’s the arm?”

Peeta’s sleeves were rolled up on his forearms, free of any bandage, but Haymitch could see the reddish line on his skin.

The knowledge that he had been the one to do that…

“It’s fine. Really.” the boy offered. “I didn’t even need stitches.”

His grey eyes remained on his now empty plate. “Sorry.”

It wasn’t a word he said too often.

“You don’t need to…” Peeta started.

“Yeah, I do.” he cut him off, looking up at him.

The expression on the boy’s face looked a bit too much like pity for his taste. “Then, I forgive you.”

Haymitch cleared his throat and stood up to clear the table. Just because it was something to do. He still wasn’t sure his legs would hold his weight but he tried to ignore that small fact like he liked to ignore his biggest problems.

“Effie called twice.” Peeta announced.

The dirty dishes clattered in the sink more brutally than Haymitch had meant to. “What did you tell her?”

“That she could do whatever color theme she wanted for the wedding?” the boy joked. “She wanted your opinion. And she wanted to know if you would like to give Katniss away.”

He highly doubted that was what Effie had really been after.

“You told her about…” he hesitated.

“No.” Peeta shook his head. “I wasn’t sure how much was safe to say on the phone.”

He shouldn’t have been impressed by the boy’s foresight. Peeta had proven himself quick on the uptake before. But he was a little bit all the same.

“Smart.” he agreed, leaning back against the counter to watch the kid. “So what was I doing that was so important I couldn’t talk to her?”

“I told her you weren’t in the mood to chat.” Peeta winced. “She wasn’t really happy.”

“You don’t say.” he sighed. There would be hell to pay about that probably.

“I’m not sure at what time the Quell’s announcement is.” the boy said. The switch of topic threw him a little because he had forgotten about that. He made quick calculations of how much time he had spent completely cut off the world and concluded the announcement should take place in two days time. Too soon. He wasn’t ready to spend two months agonizing over whatever sick twist the Capitol would play on his next tributes – if he lived long enough to witness it – all the more so without liquor. “You could call her to ask.”

The suggestion made him lift his eyebrows and a smirk stretched his lips. “Careful, boy. You’re becoming really good at scheming. Must be my awesome influence.”

Peeta dismissed that with an amused shrug and left before curfew, after making sure Haymitch would be fine on his own. He wasn’t sure that he would be fine on his own but he was sick and tired of being treated like an invalid so he hurried in kicking the boy out.

Then he grabbed the phone, his eyes automatically darting around for a bottle of liquor because he usually drank while she talked his ear off. Habits were hard to break. And he would still have killed for some booze.

The line rang for the longest time before she picked up and her voice was lost to a loud music and the sound of laughter and conversations. She must have been giving a party.

“Effie Trinket, speaking.” she answered cheerfully.

“You’re drunk.” he accused. She had her drunk voice.

“Tipsy, actually.” she retorted, quite frosty. “How good of you to finally find me worth talking to. Unfortunately, I am currently busy and it is of the utmost rudeness for a hostess to ignore her guests so… What did you want?”

He hated it when she took that petulant entitled tone. He was doubly annoyed because he actually enjoyed hearing the sound of her voice. He missed her. It came out like a pang in his chest.

He missed her.

Not that he could tell her.

Not that he should.

It really was the worst time to realize that maybe…

“What time’s the announcement again?” he asked. “We can’t remember.”

“Eight pm for us. So… Ten pm for you.” she answered casually. “As your TV would have told you if you had bothered turning it on. They are advertising it everywhere.”

“Not much one for TV.” he reminded her. “I’ll leave you to your fun.”

“I was not expecting any apologies for your atrocious behavior but you could at least sound a little more contrite.” she huffed.

“Believe it or not, I’ve got other things to do with my day than listening to you prattle about a fucking wedding.” he snorted.

“Awful man.” she snapped. “I will never understand why you take so much pleasure in hurting my feelings.”

“Cause it’s so easy it’s almost no fun.” he retorted. The argument was so familiar he didn’t even need to think about his replies. They had played that scene a thousand times before.

“I am glad it amuses you. Now if you will excuse me, there is a charming gentleman right here who wishes to court me and I am of a mind to let him.” she snapped.

“Make sure he’s rich first.” he taunted.

She huffed and then the line rang dead.

He was irritated with her stupidity. Couldn’t she have understood than bigger things were happening? Had she already forgotten about Cinna and Portia?

Or was she simply playing it that way to fool everyone?

It was the problem with her. She was too good at the game. Sometimes, he couldn’t really tell.

She didn’t call the next day or the day after that and it left him in a sour mood.

He pretended really hard that it had nothing to do with images of charming gentlemen sweeping her off her feet with roses, champagnes and clever declarations of love he wouldn’t have had the first clue about professing. He pretended that the thought of her with another man, in another man’s arms, in another man’s bed wasn’t enough to make him seething mad with jealousy. He pretended he still believed she was nothing more than an easy go-to lover.

Mostly, he failed and made everyone around him pay for it with harsh words and snappish retorts.

Aside for his irritability, he felt better though. The more he moved around, the less sluggish he felt. The headache never really went away and the tremors could be bad but his stomach stopped being so upset and he wasn’t scared of collapsing after two steps anymore.

On the morning of the quell’s announcement, he followed Katniss around the District. It was his first time leaving the Village since Thread’s arrival. Almost three weeks. To say he was apprehensive would have been putting it mildly but he kept a detached expression and made a lot of stupid jokes sorely to annoy the girl.

Annoying Katniss was almost as satisfying as annoying Effie.

He had been anxious about how people would behave with him. He didn’t want their pity. So many people had ended up victimized by the Peacekeepers that his whipping was old news though. Nobody even blinked at seeing him walking around. They were too used to his hermit behavior. It wasn’t the first time he had remained holed up in his house for weeks at a time. Nobody had ever ventured to the Village to check if he was still alive before and there was no reason for that to change, all the more so now that the kids were there. It might have hurt him a little that people so obviously didn’t care but he pushed that aside. They were right not to. He didn’t deserve it. What had he ever done for them anyway? Aside for having a new trigger happy Head Peacekeeper appointed, that was.

Twelve looked like a ghost town.

People were hurrying from point A to point B. There was no lingering in the street, no chatting with neighbors… Everyone was tossing frightful glances around, studying everyone else with suspicion… There was also a nervousness in the air that he attributed to the closeness of the announcement. People were dreading to know what would happen to their children, he figured, and with reason.

The Third Quarter Quell…

Seventy-five years of Games… In retrospect, it seemed almost arrogant of him to have thought he could put a stop to that. The Capitol was a monster he was too weak to defeat. It would have taken a hero and he was nothing of the sort. Katniss could have. Maybe. Or she could have, at least, looked the part.

They stopped at the apothecary – the reason for the trip in the first place – and grabbed everything Aster had put on her list. They circled back by the meadow to go home and Katniss looked beyond the electric fence with longing. The humming sounded loud in the unnatural fearful hush that lingered on the District.

She missed the woods, he knew, missed the freedom she found there.

Just like he missed his booze.

He didn’t try to offer any empty words but he nudged her shoulder with his.

She nudged it back.

They didn’t need to talk about it, they understood each other, he thought.

He declined the offer to dine at her house and trudged back to his own, short of breath and almost drunk on all the fresh air he had just gotten.

He waited all day for the phone to ring.

It didn’t.

Fuck her, he mused, his mood darkening with each hour that passed.

He was restless. His foot tapping the floor impatiently, his eyes darting between the book on his lap and the TV, waiting for it to start… He clutched a glass of water just because the simple act of holding one in his hand was a little soothing. Maybe his brain thought it was liquor, maybe it was just habit. All that was certain was that he thought better when his fingers were wrapped around a glass.

His heart was beating uncomfortably hard in his chest as he waited for the stupid program to end and for the announcement to start.

He wanted to know what they were going to face, what their tributes would be in for.

He would need to start prepping the kids for what mentoring entailed and he wasn’t looking forward to that.

When Panem’s anthem finally rang, he wished time could freeze.

He realized he wasn’t ready for what was to come.

#hayffie #effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #into that good night

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everlarkbirthdaydrabbles · 7 years

Note

Our absolutely amazing pal and fellow smutketeer @peetabreadgirl has a birthday on February 23rd. @xerxia31 and I were wondering if you'd be willing to accept a submission from us in her honoUr?

Happy Birthday @peetabreadgirl! By special request, Here’s a birthday drabble crafted just for you!

Biggest Fan

AN – Happy Birthday PBG! This is part 1 of 2 because your birthday is too special to cram all into one day!

Mesdames et messieurs, votre attention s’il vous plaît. Les passagers de la vol Air Canada 8637 arrivent à la gare vingt-quatre.

Peeta Mellark bobs up on the balls of his feet, eager to see around the crowd of tired commuters coming in on the flight from Montreal to Quebec city. Just a few more minutes and he’ll finally lay eyes on the infamous KatsEye, the best beta in the Avengers fandom.

And his best friend. Possibly the love of his life, but hey, he figures he probably should lay eyes on her in real life before he declares his undying devotion.

The crowd is thinning a bit now as the business crowd moves toward the airport doors, a sea of suits and muttered French. He checks his phone. Her text had said she was near the back of the plane. Surely she’ll be out soon.

KatI’m wearing an orange sweater.

When he looks up again, he sees her coming through the gate. Her aviator glasses are perched on her head and her hair is tied up in a side braid that spills over her shoulder onto the gorgeous coral sweater she’s wearing. It causes her olive skin to glow even though he can tell she’s not wearing a stitch of makeup.

His artistic sensibilities practically giggle at the idea that she’d consider the shade to be orange. It’s softer, more muted; kind of like a sunset at the end of a sultry summer’s day.

Regardless, it’s his new favourite colour.

When he notices her scowling as she scans the crowd for him, he uses his free hand to hold up the little sign he made: KATNISS EVERDEEN. It’s her real name, what her friends and family back in Texas call her. Frankly, it’s what what everyone who isn’t an Avengers fan calls her, but in his mind, she’s always Kat.

Her frown vanishes when she spots his sign and she moves toward him, offering a nervous smile. “Cap? Is that you?“ Her southern drawl lilting over his pseudonym delights him.

“Hi Kat.” He offers her a smile that he knows will never convey just how happy he is to see her. “Welcome to Canada.” Her cheeks pinken.

Damn. He knew she was pretty, but that little one centimetre by one centimetre picture on her Google Docs avatar wasn’t big enough to tell him the whole truth. His Kat is beautiful. More than that, really. She’s fucking radiant.

He reaches out to hug her and realizes halfway there that he’s a strange man in a strange place and a hug might not be a welcome gesture. Instead his arm dangles awkwardly in mid air. “Can I, uh, take your bag?”

She clutches the strap of her carry-on and insists that she’s got it.

“Oh. Um, I wasn’t sure if you’d have warm gear, so my sister-in-law loaned me her Canada Goose coat.” He passes over the bright red parka with the fur trimmed hood and she accepts it solemnly with a whispered “Thanks.”

“They’re down-filled,” he explains, “Those coats, I mean. It should keep you nice and warm when we’re at le Carnaval tomorrow.”

Katniss strokes the fur on the parka’s hood and just nods.

They settle into an awkward silence and he does his best to hold his disappointment at bay. He’s never met a woman who has captured his attention quite the way Kat has. His day is not complete until they’ve hashed out the latest fandom drama and she’s stolen all of this extra words or scolded him for using the passive voice. But, they’re of one mind more often than not. He trusts her exclusively with the inner-workings of his imagination. He offers her his soul, naked and raw on the page, and she heals it, clothes it and sends it out to the world. How is it that now that they’re face to face, they can’t even string ten words together to make a sentence?

The luggage carousel jerks into gear and they move toward it in unison. A tired sigh slips through Katniss’s lips. She’s been travelling since sun-up and changed planes three times just to get there. The journey made Peeta’s eight-hour drive from Toronto today, including the harrowing trip through the tunnel in Montreal, seem like a stroll in the park.

Before long, her suitcase comes into view and when she moves to pick it up, Peeta snatches it off the conveyer belt and tugs out the handle. He resists the urge to apologize.

“Your hands are full already. Let’s go find the car,” and he drags the rolling bag behind him. As they stroll toward the parkade that is connected to the airport, Peeta alternates between trying navigate the crowd and admiring Katniss’s profile. He thinks it may have been sculpted by fairies. Her cheekbones are high and delicate; her nose, straight and slightly turned up, and her jaw slopes gently downward into a chin that’s just soft enough to prevent it from being labelled as pointed. When his thoughts start to trend toward how his lips would cruise along that jaw to the hollow of her throat, he reverts his attention forward.

“You should probably put the coat on,” he recommends at the door and when it opens, allowing in a gust of winter air, Katniss shivers and drops her bag, quickly tucking herself into the coat. Once she’s bundled up, they pass through the sliding glass doors and continue on their way.

“It’s over here on the left,” he directs, wishing he’d thought to take her hand as they left the terminal. He fumbles in his pocket for the key fob, finally managing to unlock the trunk of his father’s crossover.

“A BMW,” Katniss observes, her eyes wide.

“My dad’s,” he explains, hefting her suitcase into the trunk beside his dufflebag. “It’s better on gas than my Jeep.”

The trunk door lowers automatically and Peeta follows Katniss around to the passenger’s side, reaching around her to hold the door. Her expression is the picture of surprise, but she says nothing and slides into her seat. He closes the door behind her and circles back around to the driver’s side. When he presses the button to start the car, he notices Katniss stroking the leather of her seat and admiring the stitching on the leader dash.

“A big step up from my shitty Corolla,” she mutters.

He grins at her as he backs the car out of its spot and aims it for the exit. “My folks bought me my Jeep in high school. It’s kind of a beast now, but it still gets me around, so I’m not ready to part with the old girl.”

Katniss’s lips press together and he wonders what’s going through her mind. “You work for your father,” she recalls. “I’m sure you told me that.”

Peeta nods, piloting the car onto the Autoroute that will take them into the old city and the two-bedroom apartment they’d booked. “We own a chain of bakeries throughout southern Ontario. Dad runs the head office. I work there. My brother Rye is in charge of operations at the biggest bakery, the one in Toronto. My other brother, Bran, has human resources.”

Katniss’s eyes flick over to him. “I thought you were a baker, not an executive.”

He laughs. “I am. I bake all day. I’m in charge of the company’s concept kitchen.” He slows the vehicle as they move further into busy downtown traffic on their way to the old city. “I’ve been experimenting with cheese buns lately. I’ve got this recipe with a hint of rosemary that…” He looks over at Katniss to find her observing him strangely. “What?”

“I’ve never seen anyone get so excited about bread.” Her teeth sink into her bottom lip as she tries not to laugh. Her head falls back against the headrest. “Okay, so I’ve been travelling for the last 10 hours. Tell me what’s been going on in our little corner of the Internet.”

He’s grateful for an easy topic to fill the thirty minute drive with. They chat about the fandom all of the time, it’s familiar. “Remarkably, our absence has not been noted,” he says with a laugh. “Let me think. Um, mega-buckylover published the prologue of a new wip.

“Blackwidowdoesnotfollowback just posted a new chapter of that college au she’s working on. Something about Cap and Peggy and a pool table.”

Kat hums beside him. “Next chapter is even hotter,” she confides.

“Right,“ he concedes. “Almost forgot she’s my primary competition for access to the best beta in our fandom.”

She rolls her eyes. “Careful, CaptainAmellarka, or I’ll be forced to steal your U’s again.”

He snorts. “Paws off my superfluous U’s. Oh – Glimmer and Clove are at it again.”

Katniss shakes her head. “They’re going to divide the fandom if they don’t cut it out.”

Glimmer, whose actual handle was @peggywithmoresparkle, and Clove, who used @therealpepperpotts, were in a constant battle over whose fave was the true leader of the fandom. Sick of typing out their names, while they made snarky remarks about their diva-like behaviour, Peeta and Kat had renamed them, Glimmer – because Peggy Carter was too cool to need bling; and Clove – because pepper is a perfectly useful spice and cloves are one only useful about once a year.

Katniss leans forward, captivated, as they start to move into Vieux Quebec where the snow-covered 400-year-old stone walls and cobblestone streets leave every visitor entranced. “My God, it looks like something out of Beauty and the Beast,” she marvels.

“Surprised?”

She snorts. “No more surprised than when I discovered CaptainAmellarka, my favourite fanfic author in the entire fandom, was a Canadian.”

“Hey,” he defends, “They didn’t make Dudley Do-Right an Avenger, so what’s an earnest, well-meaning Canadian boy supposed to do?”

That gets a laugh out of her. “You know, I haven’t seen a single moose or a mountie anywhere.”

“Only in every souvenir shop.” Peeta replies with a grin. He turns up a small side street and parks in front of a three story building built of stone. Quaint blue shutters frame each window and matching boxes sit primly underneath, primed to overflow with flowers in summer. For now, they are filled with twinkle lights and greenery.

“Here we are,” he announces cheerfully, popping out of the car. Together, they approach the house and Peeta raps smartly on the door.

“Oui?” A woman with spiky black hair answers the door. Her makeup is perfect, but her matte red lips are twisted into a frown.

“Madame Johanna?”

“Oui, monsieur.”

“Bonjour madame. Je m’appelle Peeta Mellark. Nous avons loué votre appartement pour la fin de semaine.”

Her frown deepens and turns into a scowl. “Hein? Non, non, non. Impossible!” Madame Johanna’s hands fly into the air. Peeta feels Katniss take a step back, overwhelmed by their animated hostess. “Mes visiteurs pour cette fin de semaine sont déjà arrivés.”

“Peeta, what’s wrong?”

“There’s some sort of mix-up,” he translates. “She wasn’t expecting us. There’s someone else in the apartment.”

He turns back to the little French fireball guarding the entrance to their rooms and tries to turn on the charm. “Madame, pourriez-vous vérifier encore, s’il vous plaît?”

“Tabernacle!” The door slams in their faces. Peeta turns to Katniss and sees her face etched in concern.

“She’s going to check,” he explains. The door whips open again.

“Vous êtes booké pour la semaine prochaine.”

Booked in for next week? Shit. He’d been so careful when he made the online booking. “Est-ce que-”

“Non,” she interrupts. Their would-be hostess seems to have had enough. “Etes-vous fou? C'est le Carnaval! Vous auriez de la chance si vous trouvez quelque chose dans la ville!”

He is truly fucked. Kat is exhausted and now they have nowhere to stay. Johanna must see the look on his face, because she relents slightly.

“Mon amie, Effie, est la gérante à l'Hôtel vieux Québec. Peut-être elle aura quelque chose. Mais à la dernière minute, ses chambres sont coûteuses.”

Peeta nods grimly. “Merci madame.” The door again slams in their faces. He turns slowly to Katniss, whose eyes are wide and wary. “So,” he starts, running his free hand through his hair. “How do you feel about a little adventure?”

She scowls, but says nothing as he leads them back to his father’s SUV.

He explains the situation to Katniss while simultaneously scrolling through his phone to look up the hotel Madame Johanna recommended. “I’ve heard of the place she mentioned,” he says. “It’s nice, I think. If nothing else, we can be sure the bathroom will be super clean.” He can hear Kat’s little huffs of frustration, but he tries to paint it for her as a good thing, even if he’s worried sick himself. Hundreds of thousands of tourists descend on Québec for Carnaval every year, finding a room anywhere is a longshot at best. Effie’s hotel might be their only chance.

Google says L’Hôtel vieux Québec is only a dozen blocks from Madame Johanna’s apartment, but the drive feels like it takes forever. A tense silence fills the car, and Peeta gets more and more anxious. He’s been looking forward to this trip for months, and already he’s screwed it up.

Thankfully, he needs all of his concentration to navigate the narrow, twisting streets of the old city. And trying to parallel park the Beemer next to the massive snowbanks makes him wish he’d brought his Jeep after all.

By the time they walk the couple of blocks from the street parking spot Peeta found to the hotel, Katniss is visibly shivering, in spite of the thick coat she’s wrapped in. He rushes her down the final few feet, a gentle hand on the small of her back.

The hotel looms above them, red brick and charmingly old like so much of the city, but obviously well-kept. The walkway has been cleared of ice and snow, and the awnings over the large front windows glow red in the setting sun.

When Peeta pulls the door open for Katniss, he can’t help but hold his breath. He really has no idea what he’ll do if this doesn’t pan out. He could take her back to Toronto for the weekend, but the prospect of another eight hours travelling might just make her decide to hop back on a plane for the warmth of Texas instead.

Katniss’s wide-eyed reaction to the lobby relaxes him just a little. In contrast to the exterior, the inside is bright and modern, with lots of stone and natural wood surfaces, and gorgeous local art on the walls. “Why don’t you sit down and warm up a little,” he says, pointing her towards the small lounge just off the lobby. “I’ll get us a couple of rooms.” Or at least, he hopes he will.

The concierge raises a brow askance when Peeta asks for two rooms and admits he has no reservations. “Mais monsieur,” he says. “Certainement vous savez que c'est Carnaval?” Yes, Peeta knows well that it’s Carnaval, and everyone in the city booked a place to stay months ago. He booked the apartment where they were supposed to be staying months ago himself. He still can’t figure out how he managed to mess up the dates when this weekend has been circled in red in his calendar since the moment he suggested it.

“Please,” Peeta says quietly, aware of Katniss sitting just on the other side of the large glass doors, her gaze flitting back and forth between the fireplace and the counter where he stands begging. The whole pathetic story spills out, the hours of travel, the wrong reservations, his desperation to salvage what he can of the weekend. “Madame Johanna,” he says, in a last-ditch effort, “Elle nous a dit que madame Effie pourrait nous aider?”

Recognition lights the attendant’s face. “Un moment, monsieur,” he says, then walks through a door behind the counter.

When the door swings open again, Peeta does a double-take. The woman approaching him, talking a mile a minute as she does, is nothing like the elegantly modern man with whom he’d been speaking. With her scary white grin, pinkish hair, and spring green suit, she looks like she’s from another planet. He sneaks a peek over at Katniss and can see her hiding a grin behind her hand.

The woman - Madame Effie Trinkett he thinks she says her name is - speaks in such rapidfire French that Peeta has trouble keeping up. His high school French is sufficient for getting by as a tourist, but it’s not strong enough to keep pace with the effervescent whirlwind in front of him, pink curls bobbing. “Un peu plus lentement s'il vous plaît,” he implores. Instead, she switches to heavily accented English.

“My dear friend Johanna telephoned me, told me of your situation tragique, truly star-crossed,” she says, and Peeta struggles not to roll his eyes. “I think we can help you, non? Flavius?” she trills, and the concierge reappears.

Ten minutes - and four hundred and eighty-eight dollars - later, Peeta is clutching a keycard and breathing normally for the first time all day. They have a place to stay. One room, the only room left, but Flavius assured him the room has both a bed and something Effie called a petit divan. He thinks that’s a couch. Peeta is more than happy to sleep there, if it means saving the weekend with Kat. The weekend he’s been dreaming about since, while they were brainstorming winter soldier AU plotlines, he tentatively suggested setting their story in Canada, at le Carnaval d’hiver du Québec, the largest winter festival in the world.

He walks over to Katniss and flashes the keycard. She grins, and his heart soars.

His relief lasts only as long as it takes to climb the stairs to room twelve, their assigned space. The room, while beautiful, opulent really, is tiny. And the couch is little more than an oversized chair.

Peeta can’t look at Katniss, can’t stand to see her disappointment. Or worse, her anger. “I’ll, uh. I’ll go get our bags,” he says, then bolts back out of the room and onto the street.

Stupid, stupid, stupid echos through his head, a litany. He’s so pissed off about the lodging situation, so damned mad that their original plan got fucked up when he’s certain he booked the right weekend that he has half a mind to storm back to Madame Johanna’s.

Peeta pouts the block-and-a-half to his car and the block-and-a-half back. Everything is so completely messed up. Sharing a room was certainly not in their plans. Regardless of how he feels about Katniss, he’s a gentleman. But how’s it going to look to her when she trusted him to make all of the reservations, to deal with all of the people in a language she doesn’t even understand? Of course she’s going to think he’s an idiot, or worse, that he’s lured her here only to take advantage of her. He’s blown his chance with Katniss, and he’s probably also lost himself one of his best friends in the world.

It’s with trepidation that he pushes the room door open. But he finds the room empty, the door to the ensuite shut tightly, the faint sound of water running behind it.

He leaves her suitcase next to the bed, beside her carry on, and tucks his own beside the petit divan - that means loveseat, he remembers, not couch. Of-fucking-course. Now that he’s not running away, he can appreciate how cool, if small, the room really is. Hardwood flooring, exposed brick, and a gas fireplace across from the bed. He flips that on, thinking that Katniss will appreciate the little bit of extra heat.

The fire is crackling merrily when the bathroom door opens and Katniss treads back into the bedroom. Her eyes are swollen and red-rimmed and he feels like the worst kind of heel.

“Kat? What’s wrong?”

She shrugs and then sniffs. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.” She shoves her hands into the pockets of her jeans. “I’m just tired I think.”

“Of course I’m going to worry about it. Look, I’m so sorry about the screw up at the apartment, alright? I don’t know how it happened. I swear I checked the date three times before I booked. I won’t fit on the loveseat, but I’ll sleep on the floor in front of the fireplace or the bathtub or something. And you can-”

“Cap.” She holds up her hand to stop him. “You paid a fortune for this room, I saw the bill when we came upstairs. I can fit on the loveseat. You shouldn’t have to give up the bed, not for someone you don’t particularly like.”

There have been few times in Peeta Mellark’s life when he’s been struck nearly speechless, but this is one of them. “You, you think… what?” he sputters. “Kat, you have no idea. “I’ve been waiting for this day for months! And now you’re finally here. And you’re just so amazing.”

She looks doubtful, confused, the redness of her eyes only enhancing their stunning silver colour. She’s unlike anyone he’s ever met, and that he’s somehow made her believe otherwise guts him.

“It’s true,” he insists. “Although why you haven’t run away screaming back to Texas after all the ways I’ve screwed up is beyond me.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t know why you think you’ve screwed up.”

Maybe it would be easier if he ticks them off for her one by one. “Lemme see. There’s whatever happened with the reservations-”

“That bitch was double-booked! On purpose!” Katniss bursts out. “She totally lied to you and you were incredibly polite. Ick. It was so Canadian of you. I wanted to shoot her in the eye with one of my arrows.”

Wait. She shoots? He wonders at that a bit and then continues. “I couldn’t get us a room with two beds.”

“You got us the last room in the city, paid a fortune for it, and now you’re refusing to sleep in the bed.”

He ignores that one. “Then there was that moment at the airport when I tried to hug you and you clearly didn’t want me to.”

“What if I did want you to!” she bursts out, her eyes shining. Realizing what she’s said, Katniss flushes and stares at her toes. “I’m not good at this people thing, Cap.”

“Peeta,” he corrects gently. “Please, Kat… Katniss, I mean. Call me Peeta.”

“Peeta.” The way her accent lingers over the vowel sounds in his name causes him to slip even deeper into love with her. “When you reached out to hug me I just froze. I didn’t know what to do. I’m sorry.”

For the first time since she stepped off the airplane almost two hours ago, Peeta feels a bit of hope bloom in his heart, as warm and gentle as a Texas spring night. “Could we start again, maybe?”

Katniss laughs a little hysterically and nods, even as she swipes at her eyes before wiping her hands on her jeans.

“Hi Katniss. I’m Peeta. I’m a big goof, clearly-” She chuckles. “But I am so happy you’re here. Thank you for being brave enough to come all the way up here to meet me.”

The smile he receives is more blinding than any dawn, more beautiful than any sunset.“ Hi Peeta,” she answers, and holds out her arms to him. He scoops her up, clasping her tiny frame against his broad chest and spinning her around, just once. A laugh bubbles from within her. She squeezes back and smiles up at him. “I was glad to make the trip. I wanted to get to know you for real.”

It feels so impossibly good to hold Katniss in his arms, Peeta knows he won’t be the first to let go. But eventually, she steps back and he releases her. “So what now?“ she asks, and her stomach growls.

“Sounds like it’s time to find something to eat.”

Katniss nods, looking lighter than she has all evening. “I haven’t eaten since my layover at O’Hare,” she admits. “But, do you think maybe…” she starts, then shrugs and looks down shyly.

“Anything,” Peeta says. “Tell me, this is your vacation after all.”

“Well I wasn’t kidding about being tired. I left my house at five this morning.” Katniss glances at the clock beside the bed. “That’s nearly fourteen hours ago.”

“Thirteen,” Peeta snickers. “You’re not in the cactus timezone anymore. This is igloo time here.” Katniss rewards his teasing with a smile, a real smile, and it leaves him breathless. He can barely tear his eyes away. “How do you feel about pizza?”

Though he could order cardboard pizza from any one of the hundreds of shops in the old city, Peeta figures food is his chance to really impress Katniss. He leaves her to rest and freshen up while he makes the ten minute drive to La Boîte à Pain, home to the absolute best pizza in the entire province. He already knows what she likes; mushrooms, pepperoni and bacon.

It takes a little longer, but her groan of delight when he hands her the pizza box is worth it. “This smells incredible,” Katniss says from her perch, sitting cross-legged on the bed.

She’s changed clothing, the gorgeous coral sweater and slim jeans have been swapped out for yoga pants, and a t-shirt that clings to her slight curves. She almost looks happy. Peeta starts to move over to the loveseat, but she shakes her head. “Sit up here with me. We’ll have a picnic.”Peeta sets out the paper plates, napkins and bottles of water that came with their pizza before toeing off his shoes to join her. He grins as he watches her paw through the other bag he’s brought back. “What in God’s name is this?” she asks, waving a container. She flips back the styrofoam lid and sniffs cautiously

“That, my American friend, is poutine, practically the official food of la belle province du Quebec.” Peeta hands her a fork, but she doesn’t take it, continuing to stare. “It’s french fries, gravy and cheese curds.”

Her nose wrinkles adorably. “You eat this stuff? It looks like dog food.”

“I don’t just eat it, I love it,” Peeta says, laughing.

“Well there’s no accounting for taste.”

Peeta spears a serving of poutine onto his fork and takes a big bite. The fries are perfectly cooked; the rich, savoury gravy still warm. The salty curds have begun to melt, but they still make a satisfying squeak as he chews. “This is possibly the best poutine I’ve ever had,” he enthuses.

Katniss takes a healthy bite of her pizza. “It’s all yours, big guy.”

“That’s what she said!”

Katniss groans.

“Seriously Katniss, this is a Canadian tradition. Don’t knock it until you try it.” He waves a dripping forkful under her nose until she relents. The sight of her wrapping those lush peach lips around his fork is so unintentionally erotic that he can’t blink. But then her face screws up in revulsion.

“Oh my God, that’s nasty,” she says, reaching for her water bottle. Peeta laughs hard enough to shake the entire bed. “Y’all really eat that? You’re not just pranking me?”

Peeta tries to affect an affronted expression, but he can’t stop giggling. Katniss laughs too, and they fall into the comfortable banter that they’ve always enjoyed, only now it’s face to face. And it’s incredible. Seeing her expressions - how her face lights up like dawn breaking when she’s excited, the little crease that appears between her eyes when she’s skeptical. The way she chews on her bottom lip when she’s pensive. He’d already been falling in love, but having her here now, live and three-dimensional and real… he’s a goner.

The pizza box lays empty, except for crusts and stray bits of mushroom, and they both lean against the headboard, chatting. But Katniss’s eyes are heavy from her long trip, and Peeta too is feeling the effects of the drive and excitement and stress of the day. “We, ah. We should probably get some sleep if we want to make an early start tomorrow.” Katniss nods, and Peeta thinks she looks just a little reluctant to end their evening. It reminds him off all of the nights they’d spent instant messaging while he’d been lying in bed, so exhausted he’d continually drop his phone on his face, and yet still not want to sign off.

Peeta takes the remnants of their meal out of the room and down the hall to the recycling station. When he returns, Katniss has started making up the petit divan. “Katniss, no,” he says. “You can’t sleep there, you’d be all twisted like a pretzel and I’m not going to be responsible for wrecking your back.” He tries for levity, tries to push back that anxiety about having screwed up so much, but he thinks she hears it anyway by the little line that again appears between her stunning silver eyes. “Please,” he says softly, tugging a pillow from her hands and tossing it onto the floor in front of the fireplace. “Take the bed. Don’t make me beg.”

Something flares in her eyes before she simply nods.

But when Peeta emerges from the bathroom, teeth brushed and curls still damp, Katniss is tucked into bed and all of the bedding is gone from the floor. She meets his confused expression with something that looks like defiance. “Look C- Peeta, it’s ridiculous for either of us to sleep on the floor after what you paid for this room. And this bed is huge.” He’d argue that queen-sized isn’t exactly massive, though she certainly looks tiny nestled in the crisp white sheets. “We can share.”

“Are you sure?” Peeta winces at the words, the girl of his dreams has just invited him to share a bed with her - however platonically - and still he feels compelled to be a gentleman and try to dissuade her. But if there’s anything he’s learned about KatsEye; passionate fangirl, smutketeer and ass-kicking beta extraordinaire, it’s that she never does anything she doesn’t want to. She’s strong and loyal, she’s the peanut butter in their friendship sandwich, the glue that keeps them together.

“Get in, goof,” Katniss grins, throwing back the corner of the comforter.

Though there’s a full twelve inches between them as they lie facing each other in the darkness, Peeta is struck by her immediacy, her presence. The sound of her soft breaths in the hush of the small room is soothing, comforting. It feels like such a luxury, drifting to sleep with Katniss right there, right beside him.

Katniss shifts, then Peeta feels her small, cool hand grasp his own under the sheets, their fingers entwine almost automatically. “I’m so glad you’re here, Katniss,” he whispers sleepily.

“Me too.”

#happy birthday to you #peetabreadgirl #xerxia31 #burkygirl

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