#peeta mellark fic

[bruisedboys]

peeta mellark !!!! who loves all your insecurities likes it’s breathing <3 and who worships the ground you walk on because you’re his sun!!

peeta who loves your stretch marks even if you don’t. he’ll run his hands over the soft ridges, up and down, over and over. he’ll kiss the ones on your hips when he’s feeling lovesick (which is always) and he likes how you shudder under his mouth, say his name all breathless while you bury your hands in his hair.

peeta who doesn’t care if you don’t shave, it couldn’t bother him less. and if you do want smooth skin, he’ll offer to do it for you, claiming, “I’m an expert, sweetheart. c’mon, can I please?” you never say no, you can’t. he’s unbelievably careful and kisses your knees when he’s done.

peeta who loves your tummy and your thighs!! he’s always got a big warm hand on your thigh, or one under your shirt, kneading your stomach. they’re kind of his favourite parts of you. the parts he can squeeze all his love into. his favourite thing ever is when you wear a big t-shirt to bed so he has easy access to your thighs and tummy <3 better if it’s his t-shirt, of course.

peeta who braids your hair back for you before you sleep, no matter how tired he is. you sit on a cushion on the floor while he sits on the bed, fingers gentle as they card through your hair. sometimes you’ll fall asleep against his knee. he never has the heart to wake you up, so he lifts you into bed himself. you wake for a handful of seconds, enough to murmur a sweet, “thank you, pete.” he kisses your forehead, his way of saying you’re welcome.

peeta who takes your face in his hands when you cry, endlessly gentle. he swipes at your hot tears with his thumbs and curls his fingers behind your ears. “did you know you’re pretty even when you cry?” he’ll say. “how do you do that, hm?”

peeta whose love is hot like stars and infinite. he’ll go to the moon and back for you and he’s not afraid to let you know that <333

[lovekendri]

inexperienced | peeta mellark

request: hey! can you do headcanons or a fic about your first time, um, “doing the deed” with peeta? or like how he would be with someone who’s inexperienced. thank you! i love your writing 🤍 - anon

omg i love this! thank you so much for the request AND being my first request!! i'm a bit newer to writing smut, so i hope it lives up to your expectations! ♡

peeta mellark x fem!reader

summary: it's your first time, and your boyfriend, peeta, is determined to make sure your first time is magical.

cw: 18+ only! fluffy smut, p in v, soft and hard dom!peeta, inexperienced!reader, established relationship, first time, fingering, praise kink, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!)

wc: 2.9k

type: ✽ | ❀

As you poured another glass of a fancy sparkling pomegranate juice to end off the bottle, you tossed it into the bin next to the table and walked yourself over to the couch where Haymitch and Peeta sat, the room still buzzing with other District 12 residents.

The television was on, playing some sort of instrumental music, but you could barely hear it over the chatter in the room.

Haymitch and Peeta were deep in conversation about Haymitch's new relationship with Effie, and you've never seen Haymitch look so happy to talk about something.

You sat down next to Peeta, and you could tell he was ready to leave soon, probably after he finished the conversation.

You had indulged in homemade bread from Peeta with oil and vinegar all night, as well as fresh berries picked from the bushes in front of your house with the sparkling juice, and you were starting to get tired of eating to cure the boredom.

You had followed Peeta around all night like a lost puppy, and it wasn't a good look for you, but you were ready to go home after a few conversations.

"I personally didn't expect Effie to be your first choice," Peeta snorted, "I thought she drove you crazy."

Instead of paying attention to the rest of the conversation like you should've, you began to fully admire your boyfriend for the first time all night.

He wore a gray button up with the top two buttons undone, the sleeves tucked up around his forearms. It was tucked into a pair of blue jeans that appeared slightly too tight, the fabric straining against his legs. Finishing off the outfit with a brown belt. He sat manspreading, holding a bottle of something you couldn't see, the logo hidden in his hands, but you knew it wasn't alcohol.

Looking at him tonight brought a different feeling to your chest and stomach, an odd, tingly feeling you hadn't very much felt before around him. Watching him talk, watching his lips move as he responded to Haymitch, the nod of approvals he would give.

"But anyways, you two better get going," Haymitch said as you tuned in to the conversation once again, standing up from the old couch you all sat on. It was getting later in the night, and you were thankful for him to say that, as it was almost one in the morning.

Peeta stood up as well, taking your hand to help you up from sinking into the couch.

"Alright, good to see you," Haymitch said, giving Peeta a small hug, and clapping him on the back, like a brother would do.

Haymitch turned to you, and reached out for a hug. You wrapped your arms around his neck and gave him a short hug before pulling away from him.

"I'll see you tomorrow, probably," you said, smiling, subtly reminding Haymitch of your lunch plans tomorrow.

"Of course you will, sweetheart," he gave you a small clap on the back, weaker than Peeta's, but still a loving tap. A small lopsided smile appeared on his face and he turned away.

"You ready to go?" Peeta asked, looking down at you.

His eyes were trained on you, reminding you of what you felt just seconds ago about the tingling of your stomach and the tightness in your chest.

"Yeah," you smiled, trying to hide the fact you could feel the blush creeping up your face as you looked past him toward the coat rack near the door.

He grabbed your hand once again, grabbing your coat and slinging it over your shoulders, not bothering to have you put it on when you're a mere twenty feet away from his house.

You waved goodbye to any people who were paying attention at the slowly dying party, and walked out the door, hand in hand with Peeta.

"You enjoy the juice?" he asked as you reached the sidewalk, playfully giving you a little shove to the shoulder to knock you off balance a bit.

"You know I did," you replied, recovering your feet and taking his muscular arm in both of your hands. The crisp, cool air of the night nipped at your cheeks, and the leftover snow from the recent fall crunched beneath your feet.

It was a short walk, and by now you were at the door of Peeta's house. He took the keys out of his pocket to unlock his front door. The light over the door was still on, coating the walkway you stood on in a dim, yellow light.

"You looked beautiful tonight," he said as he unlocked the door, pushing in the door with more force than intended.

"Thank you, you looked rather handsome yourself," you replied, hearing a small chuckle escape his throat at your comment.

Without bothering to turn on the lights, he walked through the living room to reach his bedroom, and you ran inside before him to kick off your shoes and jump on his bed.

The softness of the mattress engulfed your body, and you rolled into the knitted quilt on top of his bed.

Tonight felt like a cuddling night, but something about the air felt different.

"Save some room for me," he said, having just taken off his shoes.

The feeling you had earlier watching him rose in your body again as he set his knee on the edge of the bed, climbing over to your side and collapsing next to you with a hand on your hip.

You turned to your side, throwing a side of the quilt on top of him.

"There's plenty of room for you," you said, looking down past his jaw. You saw the same outfit as before, but now his belt was slightly looser, his shirt half untucked. You tried your best to avoid looking toward his jeans, but you didn't have to force yourself anyways.

"Eyes are up here, darling," Peeta's hand reached out gently to your jaw, lifting your face to look at him.

Your face heating up immediately, you made eye contact with him. A small grin was growing on his face, a cheeky smirk you'd seen so often. He kissed you with the same pecks he always did when you were cuddling, but even after you'd kissed him hundreds of times the same way, you couldn't shake the feeling that something felt different tonight.

Doing your best to ignore the prying thought, you snuggled up to his warm body, basically steam rolling him to get on top of him. You laid on top of him, one of his hands loosely around your waist and the other lightly stroking your back. Your arms hooked under his.

After a while of laying in silence listening to each other breathe, you started to close your eyes, letting comfort and sleep take you over. Just as you began to feel the entire pull of sleep, you felt him sharply exhale. He dug his face into the crook of your neck at the same time his hand grabbed tightly onto your hip.

"You've never had sex, have you?" he murmured lowly.

The question startled you, increasing your heartbeat and waking you from any slumber that started to take you over. You turned your face into his neck as well, too embarrassed to lift your head and face him when you felt the heat radiating off your cheeks.

Is this what felt different? Did the air feel different because Peeta wanted to have sex with you?

"Absolutely," you say, the uneasiness in your voice a dead giveaway that you most definitely have not.

He knew you, he knew you hadn't. In fact, he knew that he was the only boy you had ever dated, the only boy who you'd ever kissed.

"Oh, really?" he says, his hands sliding from where they rested to lightly graze over the back of your thighs and your ass, one hand giving a light squeeze to your thigh.

A barely audible but obviously desperate exhale escaped your lips, your head dropping down completely to his shoulder.

He had never touched you like this before. Butterflies were exploding in your stomach, your chest and throat growing tighter as he continued to move his hand over the hills of your body.

"I thought so, baby," he whispered. "It's okay."

He didn't stop moving his hand, but his head dropped back down to the bed, an exhale leaving his own lips.

"Would you let me be your first time?" he said breathily, his hand moving up to rub over your back once again.

You felt like you couldn't say anything, your throat feeling so closed with his hands touching you in ways you'd never felt before, the feeling of his rough hands stroking across your body was enough to send you spiraling.

He noticed your silence, moving his hands to sit up. You refused to let go of your tight hold on his body, trying to catch your breath from the unnecessarily overwhelming feeling blossoming in your stomach.

"C'mon, baby. Talk to me," he whispered.

"Please, Peeta," your voice came out strangled. It didn't sound like your own, plagued by the tightness of your throat and the desperate want for him to touch you like he was before.

It took him a moment to register what you said.

"That's my girl."

His hands reached up to your arms, gently prying them away from his body in order to get you off of him.

He laid you gently on the bed, and you felt like a total mess. You knew you shouldn't be so obsessed with the way he was making you feel, but it felt so right to be touched by him, to be held in the erotic ways you didn't know he wanted.

He was on top of you, his arms out straight and his legs on the outside of yours blocked a cage around your body. You were in for it now.

At first though, he only kissed you.

The low light of the room added to the needy ambiance of the room. Kissing felt more erotic, less controlled, the way his lips moved familiarly but yet so foreign at the same time, the soft dominancy from him that you'd never felt before threatening to take you over. The way he would stop to take a short breath before continuing to kiss you, sometimes biting your lip as he pulled away. When you felt one of his hands creep up your hips onto your breasts, it was an explosion of feelings you hadn't had before.

Your gasp almost breaking the kiss, you felt him grin against your lips as his hand slipped under your shirt to run it over your torso.

His touch was so gentle, so polite, allowing you to feel the entire moment of what he was doing to you. Again though, it was so different from ways he had touched you before. So new and arousing.

His kisses began to trail down your cheek to your jaw, down your neck, and back up to your lips. He kissed you all over the neck, anywhere he could.

You felt so many butterflies and tingles in your stomach, and a warm heat between your thighs growing as he touched you more, lips and hands working in unison to sweetly prepare you.

His hand now moving down to pull the waistband of your pants ever so slightly down, pausing his kisses. He took the moment to move a knee between your legs, giving them a little nudge to open.

His eyes met yours, darkened with arousal and excitement. His lips were swollen and slick with saliva, his cheeks a light rosy tint.

"You ready?" he murmured, watching your face closely.

Though you were so nervous, you were eager.

You wanted this to happen, the more he touched you and the more he caressed your body allowed to the heat between your legs to grow, the unfamiliar tingles and butterflies in your stomach fluttered with anticipation. He was all you ever dreamt of, and the way his eyes bored into yours with lust and hungriness, you were as ready as you'd ever be.

"Yes," you forced out, the constriction of your throat still very prominent.

You watched as the grin on his face grew to a sinister smile, his eyes squinting with pride. He removed your pants with such swiftness you'd barely noticed, and he took the time to admire your bottomless body. Nothing he hadn't seen before, but something he got to see in a totally different manner.

He exhaled sharply, pushing a rough hand into your panties, a finger sliding through slick folds.

He wasn't near being inside you, but the first few circles around your clit felt like heaven, your mouth opening in shock and a strangled gasp forcing its way through. A white heat began to grow in your stomach quickly, and you pushed your head into the softness of the bed.

"Attagirl," he whispered, praise quickly falling out of his mouth as he watched you squirm underneath his fingers.

A slick finger suddenly pushed through you, sending more waves of pleasure to your core. His fingers worked magic on your clit while he pushed his finger in and out of you.

"Yeah, baby?"

Heat, heat, and more heat grew, the pleasure becoming almost overwhelming under your boyfriend's control, the praises coming out of his stupidly pretty face driving your body insane.

Gasps sweetened with whimpers and small moans fell out of your mouth like a sailor's cusses, your eyes screwed shut as Peeta worked your body perfectly. In no time, he pushed in a second finger, earning a loud gasp and a grab to his forearm, his legs tightening around your leg to keep you from wiggling away.

"You feelin' good, love?" he whispered. You could hear the curl of his evil smile, absolutely delighted to be making you feel the way you were. You desperately nodded your head, your grip on his arm growing tighter as the heat in your stomach grew, an overwhelming feeling threatening to fall.

He felt your walls beginning to tighten, and pulled his fingers out.

"Why?" you whined, the feeling in your stomach immediately dripping down to the small heat you had before. You grabbed for his hand, wanting him to make you feel amazing again, but he pulled it away from you.

"No, sweetheart, I want you to experience more than just my hand."

You watched as he undid the rest of his belt from before, your jaw falling open slightly in shock as he unbuttoned his jeans, undoing the zipper as well. His black boxers showed through the small opening in his pants now, and you could see what he was hiding beneath them.

"You okay?" he asked, aware of your jaw now basically on the floor. You nodded at his question, snapping your jaw shut once again.

Your face was hot, your body was shaking a little. You were so ready in anticipation of how he was going to make you feel. You didn't dare look at him, because you knew that you were basically going to finish at just the sight.

"You're sure you're ready?" he said, a hand holding steady on your hip and the other you could only assume holding his cock.

You nodded, your hands going to the quilt for a hold on something, your body beginning to tense.

"Good girl."

You felt him push into you.

A loud gasp pushed from your throat, your body jerking in surprise. He definitely filled you out, your eyes rolling back and heat beginning to grow again.

"What's wrong?" he said, the concerned tone in his voice loud, keeping still inside you.

"No, no, keep going," you whined, your eyes screwing shut.

He began to move slowly, only pushing in a few inches every time, preparing you for the full.

The friction felt so good, quiet moans falling out of your mouth as he pushed more and more inside of you, growing faster with each movement of his hips.

He pushed all the way into you, hitting a spot that sent white heat coursing through your body, electrifying, your vision blanked.

He dragged his cock out once again, pushing all the way inside of you once more.

The tingly heat grew quickly in your stomach as he found a medium pace, cock sliding easily in and out of your cunt with his hands gripping tightly on your hips.

"You look so pretty underneath me," he praised, so close to pushing you over the edge.

Uncontrolled moans forced themselves out of your throat, the heat building up so close to a release. His hips became sloppier and uncontrolled, his pace increasing as he worked to finish.

With one harsh thrust, your vision went white and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. A loud cry left your mouth as you came, your legs tightening around his hips.

He finished quickly after you, his thrusts extremely sloppy.

Pulling out of you, he collapsed next to you and pulled you into his arms, his body warm. You were both breathing heavily, his muscular arms engulfing you in a blanket of comfort,

"I love you so much," he murmured, tucking his head down, his forehead rested on top of your head.

"I love you," you whispered, "thank you."

He didn't say anything, kissing the top of your head and tightening his arms around your body.

"Thank you, pretty girl."

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[destourtereaux]

just a little bit of hope - peeta mellark x fem!reader

⤷ summary: with katniss and gale both gone, peeta steps in as an unlikely hunting partner for y/n. ⤷ wc: 2.6k ⤷ requested? yes. see request here. ⤷ follow @lovebirdupdates and turn on notifs to be on my 'taglist'!

⤷ a/n: two things - one, peeta has dimples here, it's just how i imagine him, so please bear with me; two, pretend gale's father is alive please, i didn't think our girl would be able to support two families, no matter how strong she is.

___

The day is horridly warm, exacerbated by a heavy humidity. As you wake, hot air suffocates your surroundings, and the sun glares through the window, hung on a span of blue sky. Pushing yourself up on your elbows, your bare feet find the ground, then immediately retract. The floor is burning hot, baked by the sun. You grit your teeth and force your feet back onto the wood, ignoring the searing heat. You have things to do.

You make a bowl of porridge, watery, but edible. You drink half, and leave the rest for your mother. Your father is off to the mines already, his boots absent. You get dressed, pulling on the prettiest dress you own. You're ready. Or, as ready as one can be. 

Today, there will be no hunting with Katniss and Gale, no trading at the Hob. Today, there is only the reaping.

___

You spot Katniss at the edge of the square, gripping her sister's hand. Your friend looks nothing like she normally does. Gone are the boots and hunting jacket, replaced by a simple blouse tucked into a modest skirt. You nod grimly at her; neither of you feels like smiling.

Gale is over on the other side of the square, across from the stage they've set up. Your eyes meet, and he mouths "good luck".

After a few minutes of the routine announcements, Haymitch is introduced, then Effie. By now, the crowd has settled into an air of grimness, despite the clear blue sky overhead.

You don't hear Effie's jokes, and nobody laughs. She finally stops smiling, looking extremely awkward – you almost feel bad for her. Almost.

Then, she sticks her hand in the ball of names, each carrying a life, and pulls one out. Her smile is back on her face when she announces, "Without further ado, our female tribute is: Katniss Everdeen!"

You freeze, repeating her words in your head as if hoping they'd sound different. Your oldest friend – determined, brave Katniss, given a death sentence.

But Effie doesn't wait. Her next words are just as devastating. "And for our male tribute: Gale Hawthorne! Come on up now, dear, don't be shy."

Peacekeepers erupt through the crowd, grabbing your two best friends in the entire world by the shoulders, and forcing them up to the stage. Katniss whips her head around, looking at you with pleading eyes. You know what she's asking for.

"I'll take care of her, Katniss. I won't let her die. And you can't let yourself die, okay? Promise me. Katniss! Promise me!"

Your last words are hysterical, but ironically, Katniss is not. Having heard your commitment to Prim, she is satisfied. She yanks her arms free of the Peacekeepers and walks by herself, her head held high and her face serene.

You grab Prim's hand. Her whole body is shaking, wracked with sobs. You don't hear Effie's last words, but you know what they are.

"May the odds be ever in your favor."

___

It's been two weeks since the reaping which stole your best friends. It's shocking how quickly you fell back into routine, as if nothing has even changed. The only indicator of their absence is an added part of your day: splitting your earnings between your family and Prim's.

There are now double the mouths to feed, so you spend double the hours in the forest hunting. Villagers are sympathetic – that may be the only reason you're all still alive. They love Prim, and they trust you. Everything you hunt manages to be traded.

But still, you're cracking. It's just too much, and you don't know if it'll ever get better. You have no idea what Katniss and Gale are going through right now, and you don't let yourself think of them. It would break your heart.

___

Peeta Mellark has always been observant. His teachers told his parents this, back when he was a child. It's this trait that makes him notice you. The girl with the weight of the world on her shoulders, killing herself day after day to provide for not one, but two whole families.

He doesn't understand how no one else sees it. But maybe they do – it's just that no one in District 12 is really in a position to do anything about it. Still, the fact remains that you're close to breaking. You can't keep doing this alone.

Peeta Mellark has never been brave. His mother yells at him, beats him, and he takes it. He has never talked back to teachers, or dared disobey the Peacekeepers. So when he offers to hunt with you, he surprises even himself.

"What?"

"I'm Peeta Mellark. We were in the same class, and my parents run the bakery. I was wondering if I'd be able to hunt with you?"

So you weren't hallucinating. The baker's son – a boy you didn't think could kill a fly – had just asked to hunt with you. Your shock translates into a small laugh, not that anything about the situation is funny, really. Hurt flashes in Peeta's eyes, and you quickly backtrack.

"I'm sorry, that was rude. I'm Y/N L/N, I know who you are. I just didn't think you'd be the hunting type," you explain. Because you're gentle, and kind, and I've never seen you hurt anyone, with your words or physically. But you don't add that last part. 

"I've only ever hunted with Katniss and Gale, you must know them, they were reaped this year." Your voice cracks a bit with those last words, and Peeta acknowledges the fact with a nod. His hand twitches; he wants to pat you on the back, or grip your shoulder, anything to stop the melancholy leaking into your eyes, but he doesn't.

"But you're welcome to join me," you end with a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes.

___

The new partnership starts early the following day. You meet a groggy Peeta near his home, and the two of you begin the walk to the Meadow.

You hear no electrical hum from the fencing, which means it's safe to touch, and you guide Peeta across the boundary which separates the Seam from the forest. This is all illegal, you know, but you're too used to it to even notice. Peeta, on the other hand, feels an exhilarating sense of rebellion as he crosses the barbed wire, following your figure into the woods.

"You've never hunted before, have you?" you probe, although it's more of a confirmation than an actual question.

Peeta nods. "But I'm a quick learner. And I won't get in your way, I promise."

You smile, a genuine one this time. "We'll see about that, Mellark."

Over the next hour, you go over all the traps you had set from the day before, collecting from Katniss and Gale's traps as well. True to his word, Peeta picks it up quickly, and even has a great eye for camouflaging the traps. This becomes his task, using grass and twigs and flowers as his medium, painting a deceptive scene which looks safe and welcoming to the many squirrels and rabbits in these parts.

You also start him on foraging. Only one type of berry is poisonous in the Meadow, and it's easy to identify. You make sure he's clear on which to avoid, and leave him to it, while you head to the hollowed out tree where you've hidden your knives. The familiar sight of Katniss' bow and arrows within the trunk brings a pang in your heart. You leave them nestled within and retrieve only your daggers. You were never a good archer.

Another hour passes, and you return to Peeta with a deer. You're happier than you have been in weeks – this will be enough for almost a week's worth of food. Peeta is not empty-handed either, he has two buckets of progress, one filled with strawberries, the other with raspberries. He gives you a soft smile – he has dimples, you think. He then immediately turns a faint shade of green, having noticed the dead deer. 

You're seized with the desire to laugh, "Why'd you offer to hunt with me if you get queasy from the sight of game?"

He looks at you with an indignant pout, and you can't stop the giggle that tumbles out, then the full on laughter. 

"I'm not like this with all game, just, you know, the larger animals. I can look at dead squirrels just fine – stop laughing!"

Making your way back, within the District, you stop just outside of the fence to split your gatherings.

"Take the squirrels and rabbits, and the bucket of raspberries. I'll keep the deer and trade the strawberries with the mayor," you offer.

"No, you take it all," he crosses the barrier carrying the buckets, and you follow after him, shaking your head.

"I can't, Peeta. That wouldn't be right. This is a fair split."

"I never said I wanted to keep what we hunt. Only that I wanted to hunt with you, Y/N. Take it. I know you need it more than I do. I'll see you next weekend?"

And with that, he pops a strawberry in his mouth, smiling at the sweetness, and walks away.

You're left with your mouth open, unable to process what had just happened.

___

The next morning, you show up at the bakery. His bakery. You earned a few dollars from selling your strawberries to the mayor, and you figure that if Peeta won't take anything, you should buy from him instead.

A few dollars is enough for two loaves of good bread, and so you head to the bread aisle. But your gaze catches on the beautiful cakes on display, decorated with multi-colored icing and swirling script written in melted chocolate.

"I did those," comes a voice from behind you.

Whipping your head around, you see Peeta himself, looking at the cakes with fondness and a bit of pride.

"You did what?"

"The cakes. I decorated them. My mom bakes, but I decorate. I like doing it – it's like painting, just on a different canvas."

"They're really lovely. You have a talent for it," you confirm, "I bet that's why you were so good at hiding traps yesterday. You can see nature's patterns."

He gives you a soft smile in return, and you can see the dimples again. They're adorable, you think. I want to see them every day.

He gives a small cough, looking at you questioningly.

You startle, and blush a deep crimson. "Sorry, I lost my train of thought. I'm here to buy bread. Two loaves," you say as you lower your head to stare down at the ground, refusing to meet his eyes.

It's only when you hear a chuckle that you lift your head back up. Peeta's eyes are sparkling, and his dimples are clear as ever.

"I'll give you three."

___

Two months after the reaping, your partnership with Peeta is still going strong. Every Saturday, the two of you head to the woods, and spend half the day fishing, gathering, and hunting. Originally silent company has evolved into true friendship, with witty banter, fleeting touches, and shared smiles.

You have come to know Peeta Mellark. He isn't just the baker's son, the one who decorates cakes and hates seeing dead animals. He's the boy who saved you, when no one even knew that you needed saving. 

Day after day, he has shown up, offering kindness, companionship, and warmth, without expecting anything in return. You care about him more than you thought you could ever care about someone who wasn't family. You care about his messy blond hair, and you care about his broad shoulders. You care about his blue eyes which sparkle when he tells a joke, and his beautiful heart which leads him to give the occasional customer an extra free loaf. Most of all, you care about his dimples, which come out when he smiles at you. You care so much about him, that it scares you.

And Peeta cares about you. He cares about your hands, calloused but nimble, lethal when holding onto your twin daggers. He cares about your face, how it glows when you laugh at his jokes in the woods, but dims a bit when you're back in the district. He cares about your hair, always tied in a ponytail when in the Meadow, but left to flow freely down your shoulders when hunting's over. Most of all, he cares about your smile, which comes out when Prim thanks you week after week for your help, and forces you to take bottles of goat milk and pet Buttercup. He cares so much about you, that it scares him.

___

This hunting day, Peeta comes with news from the Capitol. A few weeks back, he started giving you updates on the Games, after you told him that you couldn't stomach the thought of watching your friends fight to the death.

"Y/N! Good news!" he greets, exiting the bakery. As the two of you begin your walk, he adds, "I'll tell you when we get to the Meadow."

"You're insufferable, Mellark. You can't just hook me like that, and not tell me what it is."

Peeta doesn't answer, so you start walking twice as fast, ushering him toward the edge of the Seam so you could figure out what exactly he wanted to tell you.

Once in the grassy plains of the Meadow, between the forest and the fence, you turn back to the boy, the impatience evident in your face.

"Tell me, Peeta, or I swear I'll –"

"Alright, alright," he laughs, "but it's not really good news, per se. It's just a little bit of hope."

You nod, urging him to continue.

"It's about the Games. About Katniss and Gale."

The last traces of your smile fade. Concern is etched onto your face, and your eyebrows scrunch up, your jaw tightens.

Noticing this, Peeta pulls you in by the waist, so that your head lands on his shoulder. "It's good news, Y/N. Don't look so defeated. They're both still alive, and they're fighting."

"But at least one of them won't be coming back," you whisper into his neck, so quietly you wonder if he even heard. But Peeta always hears you.

"Y/N. That's the news. They could both come back. Caesar Flickerman has just announced that they will be changing the rules this year – allowing two victors of the Games, provided they're tributes from the same district!"

You look up at him in awe. A change to the Games. Katniss and Gale, not one or the other. Both could win. Both could come back.

You choke down a sob, staring at Peeta's brilliant smile and those mesmerizing dimples. And before you can process what you're doing, you wrap your arms around his neck and press your lips to his in a bout of bravery.

Peeta's frozen for a second, before he begins to reciprocate the kiss in earnest. He pulls you in, one hand holding your neck and the other wrapped around your torso, pressing himself impossibly closer. He tastes like icing and strawberries, and you can smell the comforting scent of warm bread.

The kiss ends far too quickly for your liking, and you're suddenly impossibly shy, all bravado gone. You lower your eyes so you won't have to meet his eyes, but realize that you're practically sitting on his lap, having moved there at some point during the kiss. This observation brings a flaming blush onto your cheeks, and you scramble to move away, but you're held in place by Peeta's arms, forming an iron-tight cage around your figure.

He brings a hand to your chin, lifting it up, and kisses you again, more gently this time.

"Don't go all shy on me now, Y/L/N," he teases, and holds the back of his hand against your forehead, as if feeling for a fever. "You're burning up, darling."

"You know damn well that's not a fever–", you start, but you're cut off by his laughter, and once again distracted by those dimples of his. 

Maybe Peeta was right. Maybe there is just a little bit of hope left for you.

___

interested in other works of mine? see my masterlist!

[bonesandchalamet]

from the shining lights, to the sandy beaches, I’ll only love you — p.mellark

masterlist | pairing: peeta mellark x fem!reader

summary: bored and facing the capitol, you give the citizens of panem some drama to spice up the games

warnings: slight mentions of 18+ ideas but nothing graphic + mentions of insecurity

hours you think. it had to have been hours layered laying in woven grass blankets with flattened bread in your pockets that’s sure to be moldy soon from the moisture.

“how long have I been out?” a grunt escapes your lips to signal your awakening to them. you attempt to sit upward, but your hands were badly blistered and your arms were weak.

peeta lunged into the makeshift tent, he gently lays you back down shushing you to not worry about taking the next shift. after all, you’d been the one to trip over rocks in the acid rain, if anyone should get sleep it’s Finnick who carried you like it was nothing.

Finnick. sweet, sexy, district four, Finnick odair. the man women are obsessed with, and you could see why. his beautiful blue eyes and cocky smile, if it weren’t for the baker beside you, you’d be all over that fine man.

there was nothing wrong with peeta. his tenderness, the warmth he provides, he was an amazing boyfriend. but the ever thought of another man seemed to spark a load of questions piling up in your brain.

the storm had been out for awhile now, leaving you with some time of peace. you flip onto your left side, facing peeta, a wicked smile lifts your lips that he can’t even read. but it gives him something to laugh at in this place, “what’s your problem?”

“if you could fuck someone in the capitol would you do it? someone dressed like Effie?”

finnick makes a repulsive noise. hes had a fair share of capitol women, and even the sight of Effie was enough for him. having ran into her with zero makeup on, and nothing but a wig, Finnick odair would rather steer clear of any women from the capitol.

“I’d really prefer we think about our game plan—“

“it’s a simple question.” johanna finally wakes, she sits up carefully, her voice draws finnicks attention briefly from looking out.

sweat thickens above his upper lips. peeta knows there’s a correct answer. being in love with you, he’d never thought of another woman, so why would you ask? he can only imagine to lighten the mood, lift the spirits of the citizens watching in boredom, so he thinks it’s not harmful to play along?

“I’ve only ever wanted intimate moments with you.” peeta extends out his hand, the roughness of his palm touching your cheek, “you know I only love you.”

“this is such a yawn.” Johanna counters, she eagerly sits forward breaking the moment, “not a single woman caught your eye on the tour? you’re going to die anyway, might as well admit it.”

peeta let’s out a light laugh, and you know he’s serious. he’s only ever had eyes for you, but to Johanna, Finnick, haymitch, and potential sponsors, he needs to play in. he needs to draw them something, so he does what he’s a natural at; story telling.

“well there was a girl,” he pauses, eyes swiftly glancing at you before back at johanna, “hard to tell how old she was under those capitol lights, but she just kept following me. every room she was there, and I just couldn’t take my eyes off her.” he looks up the makeshift tent, a sadden glow casts across his face, “I wonder if I’ll see her again.”

you can’t quite remember a woman who followed him in every room besides yourself. maybe that’s who he was discussing? but he’d bought Finnick and Johanna’s approval leaving peeta to slip out the tent.

“what about you, y/n? sleep with a capitol or finnick?”

finnicks head snaps his head in the direction of his name, a spark lights in him earning a bright cocky smile, “I don’t bite, babe.”

it’s your turn to make a repulsive noise, but you know everyone at home is inching closer to their screens: would you screw around with Finnick for a night? or would you dare head back to the capitol? Finnick it is.

“just for a night,” you pause taking a long look at peeta. he’s fixated his eyes on something with the sand, probably just to occupy his mind from this conversation that’ll haunt his last memories with you, “I’d do Finnick, on the count that peeta can be there.”

“a threesome?” Finnicks words echo across the sandy beaches practically giving away your hiding spot, “I’m not sure I’ve ever done that.”

“I’d pay to be a fly on the wall of that night.” Johanna grins.

“I’ll pass. I don’t think I’d well with sharing.” Peeta blurts out.

a wide grin takes hold of Johanna’s face, yours is covered in a deep red blush that you’re thankful no one can make out in the darkness.

“peeta, possessive? never would’ve thought of that.”

it’s a shock to everyone, even you. peeta never showed any care that you were close to other guys, like Finnick or even beetee, but maybe it’s because he always knew you’d come back to him. he always knew it was him you’d love and swear you’d never leave. it must be the insecure feeling that if you saw what Finnick had, you’d leave.

to answer his worries, you wrap your arms around peetas neck and press a long kiss to his lips, “I kind of like it.”

“I’d rather sleep with haymitch than either one of you lovebirds.” finnick answers johannas question that was slightly forgotten from you three in the tent.

“come on, it’s my turn to watch.” johanna crawls out the tent, and for a second it’s just you two alone. you slip beside him, resting your head against his bicep, “who was the girl from the capitol?” you whisper.

a smile lifts to his lips, his shoulder slightly budges you to sit up, “who do you think?”

it was you. only you.

[venuslore]

whenever peeta is feeling stressed or just in need of calming, he'll drag you to bed or to the couch where he'll lay you down just to snuggle with you. he buries himself in you, arms wrapped under your waist, head nuzzled between the valley of your chest. his legs tangle with yours as your fingers intertwine. you play with his hair, running your fingers gently across his scalp continuously as he listens to the sound of your beating heart. all he needs is the reminder that he is with you, the love of his life, to feel at ease again because nothing in the world could possibly ever matter more than that ᰔ

[lily-174]

Hi. Not sure where to request but can you write something up about Hunger Games (Reader x Peeta)? Like the previous winners being called back to the game (book 2). The reader was the one who won with peeta last time but this time round she's pregnant. The reader gets injured during the game and both her and peeta panic about the baby.

Run - Peeta Mellark

a short one for my boy, I hope you enjoy it! I'm so glad more Peeta fans are finding my account.

I haven't watched or read the 2nd in a while so I hope this is okay! feedback is appreciated!

===

run. you'd done this before. you could do it again. so that's what you did, only this time around you were weaker. following peeta's orders you ran. him close on your tail after being ambushed by other tributes. your legs moving as fast as they possibly could. the last time you were in this arena things were different. you weren't pregnant. you didn't have a child to worry about. but now. you had a family, a family you wanted to create with Peeta.

a searing pain in your side shooting through your body as you ran, the bag on your back only adding to your pain. you were caught by a machete during the ambush your reaction time the only thing saving you from being slashed open. your hand firmly pressed against the wound as you listened to Peeta shouting behind you telling you to keep running as you lost the other tributes.

your energy now draining quickly Peeta now running by your side as you came to be an abundance of trees and rocks. good enough shelter for now Peeta ordered you inside.

"Are you okay sweetheart?" Peeta gasped trying to catch his breath while helping you sit on the damp floor partially hidden by trees and rocks, his eyes full of worry as he caught sight of the blood seeping through your top.

"what if I lose the baby?" those words stung Peeta's heart as he dug around in his bag for a loose bit of material before pulling your top up revealing the wound, putting pressure on it he shook his head biting his lip refusing to let his emotions get the better of him.

"Please don't say that. we got through this once. we can do it again okay?" looking down you met his eyes, the ones you fell in love with. tears threatening to fall, this was something from his nightmares, the nightmares he'd had since winning the games last time. losing you, losing your baby. you were the only thing keeping him going, he loved you with all his heart.

"Peeta it's different this time. you know that." he shook his head, looking back down at the wound on your side, the bleeding had slowed but the risk of infection was still very real. infection, and malnutrition things that could very well lead to you losing the baby. but he refused to just let that be it, he would do whatever it takes to ensure the two of you were safe.

"y/n I'm not going to let anything happen to you or the baby, I'll do whatever it takes." he sighed looking up at you his face sterner now but only for a second before his look softened again placing a kiss on your forehead.

"the bleeding slowed down. get some rest, we will get out of this I promise you" he offered a small smile in an attempt to offer you some reassurance before sitting down next to you, one of his arms going around you as you nodded leaning into his warm body. his free hand going to rest on your stomach as he pressed another kiss to your head hoping everything would be okay, and promising himself he would do whatever it takes.

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

the winner takes it all

pairing: peeta mellark x gn!reader

wc: 890

warnings: blood and weapons mentioned. cato getting eaten by mutts (spoiler i guess). a self-sacrificing suicide (i fucking fridge someone off)

summary: there can only be one winner of the hunger games.

A/N: bread boy! lover boy! peeta mellark everyone!!!

masterlist

cato was dead.

his screams of agony mixed with the growls and snarls of the mutts ripping him apart. you and peeta peered down from above on the cornucopia, panting from the strenuous fighting while witnessing the horror below. his screams of mercy, begging to be put to his death. all you could do was watch as he finally went silent, his vocal cords ripped out by a mutt with dark brown eyes. they ran away once their prey stopped putting up a fight, disappearing into the dark woods.

a canon went off in the silent night. you and peeta are the only two left. it’s over, the hunger games were over and there were two victors.

“we won,” peeta sighed. you slowly looked over to him, a barely there smile as his eyes seemed to bring a twinkle in those swimming blue irises. “we won.” repeating it with more enthusiasm.

your own lips twitched at the corners, both of you smiling at each other as you go in for a bone-crushing hug.

arms over his shoulders while your fingers sink into his dirty blonde hair, your face buried into his neck as you deeply inhale peeta’s natural scent. peeta held you close by the waist with his palms pressing flat to your back, his breath tickling your ears as his lips left an absent kiss on your skin. “we won,” practically cried at those words. you both could go home and be happy together, get to enjoy your growing love in private.

leaning apart while moving your hands from peeta’s hair to caress his rosy cheeks, smiling so wide the apples of your cheeks ache. your eyes roamed over the scars and dirt smudging over his pale skin, how he still was your peeta mellark. still kind, selfless, and caring. your charming, handsome bread boy.

hands on his face you bring him close as you lean in so you are able to press your lips together, sighing in relief. it’s been too long since your last one, having been separated for most of the games. you could drop your guard and indulge yourself wholly into being with peeta, tasting peeta, touching peeta. it was heaven on earth.

“i love you. i love you so much.” peeta declared breathlessly, puppy eyes peering into your heart. you leaned in for another kiss, muttering against his mouth, “i love you too.” you ignored the ghostly feel of all district eyes watching this heartfelt moment, it was just the two of you in this world.

peeta helped bring you to the ground just as the sky was changing from night to day. looking to the sky thinking a helicarrier might appear from above ready to whisk you both away from this nightmare, but nothing. no peacekeepers stomping the grounds, no obnoxious trumpet flair or announcer's voice, nothing.

“we won. why- why aren’t they-” frantically looking around just as a feedback noise sounded throughout the arena. seneca crane’s voice a godly thing. “the two victor rule has been revoked. there shall only be one winner of the hunger games. may the odds be ever in your favor.”

heart dropping to your stomach, tears pooling in tired eyes, your knees gave out and you dropped to the grassy floor. the salty drops stained your cheeks and burned your tongue as a scream was ripped from your chest, head pounding in protest. you didn’t notice peeta’s arms wrapped around you until he started whispering in your ear, “it’s okay. it’s okay, you’ll win.”

and those two words made you go insane. “no! no, this- this isn’t fair! we- we won!” trying to shake peeta’s embrace off of you, panicking about the next move for either of you. someone needs to die, and it’s not gonna be peeta.

feeling for the hunting knife in your waistband you gripped the thick handle and held it at your side. peeta looked down and shakily inhaled before locking eyes with you, forcing an imitation of his lovely smile. “you deserve to win, it’s only fair.”

you steeled your nerves so that with your empty hand you could reach for peeta’s cheek like earlier and bring him back to you, capturing every last touch of him before it becomes a distant memory. the returning tear drops bullets on your skin.

“peeta mellark,” pulling away and taking a few steps back, “i’ll love you even when i’m dead.” slicing the sharp blade over your throat, causing a warm thick waterfall of your blood to flow downstream.

“no!” he rushed to your limp body, catching you and bringing you both to the ground. he cradled your upper body into his chest, pushing your sweat-soaked strains away from your face. his face was twisted in agony, something you caused to spare him any pain.

“please, please don’t leave me. i need you.” peeta’s hand fretted about your paling face, drops of dark red blood staining your mouth. “i love you. you’ll be in my dreams forever.” kissing your temple with every ounce of love he could pour into it.

your heavy eyes memorized the freckles scattered over his cheeks, the shade of green coloring peeta’s orbs, and the feel of his skin on yours. with your last breath, you were able to choke out, “forever.”

then your heart stopped.

and a canon went off.

-

[quiet-out-there]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Hunger Games (Movies), Hunger Games Series - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Peeta Mellark/Other(s), Peeta Mellark/Original Female Character(s), Peeta Mellark/You, Peeta Mellark/Reader, Peeta Mellark & Original Female Character(s), Peeta Mellark & You, Peeta Mellark & Original Character(s), Peeta Mellark & Reader Characters: Peeta Mellark, Finnick Odair, Reader, Original Female Character(s) Additional Tags: Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Reader-Insert, porn with little plot, Sex Pollen, Mildly Dubious Consent, POV Peeta Mellark, Explicit Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Light Dom/sub, Dom Peeta Mellark, Vaginal Fingering Summary:

When Finnick notices how the reader's drink has been spiked with sex pollen at one of President Snows Balls, he and Peeta make a plan to save her from the special services the victors sometimes provide for the capitol. Finnick causes a distraction, while Peeta makes sure to take the reader away to safety, only the plan doesn’t go accordingly, and ends up with a sex crazed reader stuck on a closet.

[trumpkinhotboy]

After, and everything that comes with it

Pairing: Peeta Mellark x f!reader/katniss

Type: Not requested

Warnings: None. Mentions of war, loss, grief, and marriage (lol? but no religion talk!)

Requests are open for twilight, narnia and heartstopper

A/n: It's written in 2nd person pov so you may see it from Katniss' or as if you were in her place.

this little fic might be one of my favorite thing ive ever written and i hope you will love it too xx

(I suggest reading it with a novo amor playlist in the background)

“summary” : i have never written anything about the Hunger Games but i've been thinking about this little scenario, after the war has ended, and our victors can finally breathe and heal.

The war has been over for a few months now. Over is the pain, the betrayals, and the atrocities committed by both the Capitol and the rebels. Now, in their wake only lies the remnants of wounds they inflicted. Some days are heavier. Sometimes, you can barely breathe from the grief's steel grip on your organs. On other days, the pain feels like a distant pinch in your heart, and breathing is effortless. You feel almost totally secure. 

Some part of you may never be able to let go of the debilitating fear of being thrown into an arena again, but with each passing day, you can make it disappear a little more.

The first months felt agonizingly long. Still, winter was over in a sigh of the cold wind. Soon, the sun, the leaves on trees, and the wildflowers bloomed again. To be alone and to be your true self without worrying about putting up an act was a liberation. Nonetheless, it also meant you were to carry the enormity of your grief all on your own.

That is until he came back.

You will always recall that day. You had just gotten back from a walk in the woods. You carried in your basket a few plants and berries you had picked up along the way. With your gaze on the ground, your thoughts waltzed around without any real center point. Until you saw him, he was walking outside his house, about to head back in. You didn't notice letting go of your basket. The sound it made as it crashed on the ground was barely registered, but he heard it. He turned around, his gaze searching for the source of the mysterious sound. You recognized the tense stance of his feet and shoulders. You saw it about a billion times. You would have had the same reaction in his situation. Soon, his eyes found you. Just like that, his body relaxed, his shoulders slumped, and a new expression appeared on his soft features.

"Peeta." 

You sprinted for him, and all the air exited your lungs as you made contact with his body. He caught you as he always did with his strong arms wrapped around you, his hand going up in your hair as he whispered sweet nothings. From that day on, you were no longer alone.

You started having dinner together and went on walks. Peeta taught you how to plant a garden and make the best bread. You taught him how to recognize the good berries and plants in the forest and how to hunt. All things you never had the leisure to do because of the constant fear you lived in. It destroyed any other thought than eating, sleeping, working, and staying alive.

You had known each other in survival. You knew each other as fighters, victors, and players in a game that was so much larger than both of you. You now had the opportunity to know each other simply as you were. 

With each passing moment spent together, it got harder to deny what had already been there. Stolen glances, warmth spreading in your fingers any time your hands touched. Butterflies in your stomach whenever he brought you flowers. You weren't fighting for your life anymore. You had space in your mind and body to fall in love, and you did oh so helplessly and effortlessly.

On one starry night, you shared your first kiss. You were so nervous, but once your lips touched, it all vanished, and you wondered why you had waited so long. Quickly, you decided to move away from your victor's houses. Start again together, farther in the meadow where no nightmares had ever taken shape. 

That's where you awoke a year later. In a cozy little cottage you both built from your beaten hands. Your limbs caught in a tangle of fluffy blankets. The sun shone through your window, illuminating the room with honey-colored sunshine. You lazily patted around in your bed, searching for another warm body. Only to be met with cold emptiness. With a grunt, you turned on your side to face his. Your nose tickled with the touch of a few petals from a little bouquet of wildflowers gathered with a piece of string. A little note accompanied the gift.

'Meet me downstairs whenever you're ready sleepy girl x'

You couldn't hold the tilt of your lips as a smile spread on your face. You quickly got up, put on your nightgown, and headed downstairs with your little bouquet.

You immediately noticed the delicious aroma of freshly baked bread and took a second to appreciate the smell. Once you opened your eyes again, you eyed the table set with your best plates. Which really were old ones from the victors' houses, Peeta and you had handpainted. Another bouquet graced the table, and a pot of coffee was lazily fuming in the morning sun. You heard a few noises from outside and quietly headed for the back door. It was left open, its view set on Peeta's baking oven. He was oblivious to the world around him as he retrieved the current batch from the hot embers. He turned around, still focused on his precious bundles. When he finally noticed you, you were resting on the door with your arms crossed on your chest, a look not very far from adoration on your face.

"Good morning," you said as he flashed you a grin.

"Good morning," he answered with his deep voice.

He walked to you with both loaves of bread wrapped in a cloth. When he was within distance, you wrapped your arms around his neck. 

"And how are you this morning, my favorite baker?" you quietly asked before kissing his lips. What started as a soft kiss was deepened by the frenzy Peeta Mellark seemed to trigger in you even after all this time. You couldn't help it. Anytime you kissed him, you only wanted more. The innocent peck evolved into a kiss that made shivers dance on your skin, and butterflies swarm your belly. Once you separated, he finally answered, a little out of breath, "Definitely much better now."

You stared into each other's eyes and shared another little kiss before he guided you back inside. His hand was warm in yours as you squeezed it lightly. Once sitting down, you immediately filled your cup of coffee and took a big sip of the warm liquid. You uhmed in appreciation while Peeta uncovered both pieces of bread. The smell got richer. Amazingly, you noticed aromas you hadn't smelled in years.

"You made chocolate bread?" Your eyes went up a size as pure surprise illuminated your face.

"I might have," he added with a grin. "Isn't this your favorite?" Pride shone on the young man's face. Peeta Mellark was nothing if not a man who loved to spoil you with gifts. He was incredibly observant and reeled in finding out all the little things you adored to later give them to you.

"In what honor? That must have cost a fortune!" you still stared at him in disbelief. Cacao and chocolate were still rare products to get your hands on, even a year after the war had ended. 

"This is a good occasion, I promise. Do you want to taste it?"

You nodded eagerly and couldn't contain a moan of appreciation from leaving your lips as he hand-fed you a piece of the delicious bread. Peeta certainly was a master at what he was doing. 

"This is delicious. You know I am eternally grateful that you baked this. I don't quite know how you remembered this is my favorite thing in the world, but I really can't help but wonder why you decided to make this?"

He squeezed your hand and let out a shaky breath. Gone was the boyish grin on his lips. 

"This past year has been great for me, for us. I am so happy with what we built together. My only wish is to keep this going." 

You nodded with a small smile, still unsure of where he was getting at. "Through the games, you asked me to 'stay with you'. Until the end, that was the only thing that kept me going through everything we had to endure. I have no family anymore. You are my family now." The games and the war had taken everything from both of you. You suffered unbearable losses. Even if Peeta hadn't been very close to his family, you knew what it had taken from him to lose them. You cuddled his cheek with the palm of your hands. He instinctively leaned into the touch and took a breath before continuing. "I've always answered 'always', and this is a promise I intend to keep for the rest of my life."

He moved down from his chair to get on his knees, a pair of golden bands laid in the bottom of his palm. 

"Peeta," you gasped.

"I know this is not much, this breakfast, the chocolate bread, this little cottage of ours. I know we don't have anyone to celebrate with us, but it doesn't matter to me. I want you to be my wife. I want to symbolize our promise and union with these rings. We've been through hell and back. I never thought I could have this life with you. Now that we do, I want to do anything to be as close to you as possible. These rings symbolize our love for each other. It symbolizes how we protect each other and will continue to do so forever. So if you accept it, I would love to give you this ring and be able to call you my wife. My partner. My other half."

Tears rolled down your cheeks. In the last few years, you have been solely living in survival. You were only trying to make it to the next day, trying to make money to buy food and clothes and take care of the ones you loved. Then, it had been the games and the war. Never once could you have imagined being in such a secure and safe place in your life that you could even consider being with someone, even more, marrying them. But this, this life you had been slowly building with Peeta, this haven you were creating, finally allowed you to entertain such things. 

You looked at the man kneeling before you. This man with the purest heart. This man who had stayed kind and generous through it all. This man who felt like sunshine, homecooked meals, and wildflowers was all you would ever need. 

You joined him on the ground, softly wrapping his shaking hands in yours. 

"Will you be my wife? Will you stay with me?" he whispered. 

Tears hung on to the line of his beautiful blond lashes. He was once more offering you everything he was and would ever be. Even after this year spent together and all the previous ones spent protecting each other and clumsily hiding your feelings, he looked so unsure, so vulnerable. Still, his eyes carried so many emotions and love. All for you to cherish and protect for the rest of your life. 

"Always."

[bruisedboys]

reader and peeta showering together after a hard day (just some innocent intimacy nothing suggestive) 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻 love this man sm 😭🤞🏻🤞🏻

!!!!!! thank you for the req angel <3 this inspired me so so much! thanks for kickstarting my writing for peeta era hehe

peeta mellark x fem!reader 16+ please for non-sexual nudity. not really in universe but can read as post mockingjay if you want it to!

Peeta’s sketching on the bed when you come inside. One knee propped up with his back against the wall behind the bed, his sketchbook pressed against his thigh. His golden hair falls over his forehead, messy where he’s been too distracted by his drawing to push it back.

He looks up when you enter, smiling a bruising smile you don’t feel deserving of.

“Hey. Hey, sweetheart.” It’s alarming how quickly he sets aside his book and pencil to reach for you, as if he hadn’t been immersed in his sketching mere seconds ago. “C’mere, I missed you.”

As much as you’d like to be wrapped in his strong arms right now, you’re filthy, and he’s just changed the sheets earlier today.

“I can’t. I’m all dirty, see?” You wiggle your dirt-covered hands at him. You’ve been in the garden all afternoon. Time drifted away from you as you planted a new batch of tomato seeds. By the time you were done, the sun was setting and you hadn’t even realised. Your knees are stained dark brown and you’ve got dirt up to your elbows. “I’ll shower first, then we can cuddle. Sorry, baby.”

Peeta looks decidedly put out. You turn away from him before he can convince you any further, because you know if he looks at you like that for much longer you’ll give in. You pull fresh clothes from your side of the dresser and then move down the hallway to the bathroom.

The showers warming up and you’re starting to undress when Peeta knocks on the door. It’s unlocked, and he doesn’t have to, but he knocks anyway.

“It’s me,” he says. Who else would it be? You think. Silly man. “Can I come in?”

You pull the door open for him instead of answering. You’re halfway out of your clothes but it doesn’t phase him. Sure, he looks, but not for long, and not in a way that would suggest anything other than affection.

“Hey,” he says. He pushes the door closed behind him. The shower runs in the background, a peaceful thrum. “Do you mind if I join you? You can say no.”

You huff a soft laugh. He should know by now that saying no to him is a near impossible feat. “Yeah, of course. I don’t mind.”

You finish undressing quickly, eager to be clean and warm. Peeta leaves to get fresh towels while you hop in under the hot spray. The majority of the dirt on your skin has been rinsed by the time he gets back. You hear him moving around the bathroom for a minute or so before he pulls the shower curtain aside. You let him in, moving aside to make space for him. It’s tight, but it’s not uncomfortable. Weirdly, it’s almost a perfect fit for the two of you.

Peeta moves under the shower head and the water quickly drenches one half of his hair and one of his shoulders. His big hand slides over your hip and he carefully moves you into a position where you’ve both got equal spray.

“Hi,” he says, smiling. He’s so close you could count his freckles, each light brown spot scattered across his collarbones.

“Hello,” you say back. His thumb rubs your hipbone, up down, up down. “Is it too warm?”

“No, it’s perfect.”

You smile and touch your palm to his cheek. “You okay?” You’re not asking because he seems out of sorts. You’re asking because you want to know, and if he’s not he’ll tell you. He does the same for you. It’s just how you love each other.

Peeta nods. “Yeah, I’m okay. How did your gardening go?”

You beam. You love that he cares about what you care about. “Good. We’ll have tomatoes growing out of our ears by summer, I think.”

Peeta laughs. It’s a brilliant sound that bounces off the shower walls and warms your chest. “Awesome,” he grins. Then, “Hey, you’ve got dirt under your ear.” He reaches behind you to grab the flannel hanging on the shower caddy. “Look that way for me?”

He holds you still with a hand at your jaw and rubs the dirt from your skin so gently you barely feel it. His touch is like a magnet — you’re drawn to it over and over again, no matter how generously he gives it to you. When he asks if he can wash your hair, you’d be crazy if you said no.

“Yeah, please,” you tell him, past caring how desperate and needing of his touch and love you are. He knows, anyway.

Peeta turns you by the hips so your back is to him, then gently tilts your head backwards. You hand him your shampoo and he squeezes a dollop onto his hands, rubbing his palms together before spreading the bubbles over the top of your head. He’s very, very gentle with it, much more than you’ve ever been, massaging the soapy, sweet-smelling bubbles into your hair, fingers rubbing circles onto your scalp. His dedicated touch, along with the gentle thrum and warmth of the shower spray, is enough to almost put you to sleep.

“Okay, you can rise now,” Peeta speaks up. His tone is soft and you suspect he’s noticed your sleepiness. He gets very soft with you when you’re tired. “Shut your eyes, please.”

You do as he says and he directs you under the spray. He holds a hand over your forehead like a barrier so the bubbles can’t escape and sneak into your closed eyes. The action in itself makes your chest ache. He cares more than you could ever comprehend.

When he’s done rinsing you finish scrubbing the dirt from your knees, your elbows. Peeta washes his own hair, and you help him rinse the same way he did for you.

“Thank you, angel,” he says. Warm water and soapy bubbles stream over his shoulders, his neck. His eyelashes are wet, clinging to each other in sparkly triangles. He dips down and kisses your shoulder, then your cheek. “Love you.”

You beam. You love him more than anything. You get on your toes to kiss him properly, a warm press of your mouth on his, a promise for more of the same later, when you’re clean and dry and fed. “Love you too, Peeta.”

-

thank you for reading! please consider reblogging if u enjoyed 🤍

[lovekendri]

painter | peeta mellark

peeta mellark x fem!reader

request: I saw a tik tok of someone painting on their s/o back and now I can only imagine peeta doing that

this is singlehandedly the cutest thing on this planet. i am absolutely sobbing. ♡

summary: peeta ran out of canvases, but can't he just make you a canvas?

cw: the sweetest fluff you'll ever read.

wc: 1.2k

type: ❀

"Baby!" your boyfriend, Peeta, called from the other side of your cozy home inside Victor's Village. "I ran out of canvases!"

He was coming down the hall with his box of art supplies under his arm, a soft blanket slung over his shoulder.

This wasn't the first time he had run out of canvases.

"Can you be my canvas?" he begged, setting his box down at his feet where you stood looking out the window.

It was a brisk summer day, a light wind breezing through the windows and the glowing yellow sun setting in the distance, casting a pale orange glow throughout the large windows in your house. The sky was a pale blue, fluffy, white clouds spreading across for as far as you could see.

You sighed happily, looking toward him and nodding your head.

A large smile spread on his face, and he proceeded to set down the blanket on a small clear area of the living room.

"Turn around!" you yelled, giggling at his startled reaction.

"I'm turning, I'm turning!" he said, spinning on his heel and making a dramatic cover of his eyes with his hands.

You began to take off your shirt, throwing it off to the side before you moved your hands to your back.

"You act like I've never seen you naked before," Peeta said, scoffing as his shoulders slouched, the click of your bra coming undone breaking the silence as you tried to come up with a smartass comment.

"Well, we're not doing that now, are we?" you asked, getting on your knees and laying down, your now bare back hitting the cool air and turning your head to face him.

He turned around, sitting down to your right and pulling his nearly falling apart cardboard box of paint toward himself.

"We need to get you another box," you said, your eyes meeting his big, blue doe eyes.

"I know," he nodded, pulling out a thicker paintbrush with an incredibly long wooden handle and setting it next to his leg, pulling out a plastic palette piled at least two inches high of old paint.

"Two things," you began, utter confusion coming out of your mouth as you gave him a weird look. He hummed, looking up from squeezing his paint onto the palette. "One, who the hell needs a paintbrush that long, and two, why haven't you cleaned off your palette?"

He paused, pondering the question before coming up with some snarky comment.

"I personally don't know why the paintbrush is so long, but I do know why I haven't cleaned it off," he squeezed a small portion of a brown onto his palette over a pile of greens, blues, and purples. "It's too much work."

You scoffed, turning your head back and placing your chin on your hands folded in front of you.

The first stroke of paint startled you.

"That's cold!" you squealed, your shoulders arching back as he began to paint a large stripe above your hips.

He set a hand gently above your butt, the waist of your shorts pulled down so he had room to paint.

The stroking of the paintbrush was easing, it had a slight peace and relaxation to it when you had eventually gotten used to the coldness of the paint.

It was quieter now, Peeta focused on his painting and you laying in the sun as his hands working skillfully over you, like a true canvas. He would occasionally pause to get more paint or to wash off his brush, the short sound of sloshing of water and sometimes the sound of his palette scraping on the floor from moving, to which he would groan at and take his hand off of you.

You watched shadows on the wall dance, affected by the beautiful trees and leaves fluttering in the wind outside as he painted along your back, eventually reaching toward your shoulders.

He paused, setting his paintbrush down and moving his hand carefully to your side as to not smudge the paint. He took your hair into his hands, gently pushing it over your shoulder, making sure he had every strand, and letting it go so it fell at your cheek.

You hummed a thank you, and he exhaled softly in response, picking up his paintbrush once again and painting over your upper back.

You felt him going in different directions and organic ways, but you still had no idea what he was painting. His paintings always consisted of something he remembered from the Games, or another form of memory, but they also consisted of nature and beautiful sceneries he had observed.

The few times he had painted on you before, he refused to tell you until you could see it for yourself.

"I'm almost done," he said after awhile of no talking. You could hear the smile and proudness in his voice as he said those three words.

"I'm excited," you said back, not being able to help smiling yourself.

A little bit later, he lifted his paintbrush off of you, the sloshing of water and the sound of the wood hitting the floor. The sun was almost entirely set now, the sky a dusky orange, purple, and blue.

"I'm done!" he said, standing up and groaning as he stretched his limbs.

You stood up carefully, trying not to disturb your hair and covered your chest with your hands. He took hold on your arm and lead you down the hallway to your shared bedroom so you could see in the floor length mirror, covering your eyes as he turned your back to the it.

"Ready?"

"Of course," you smiled.

He uncovered your eyes, and your head immediately turned around to look into the mirror.

Your jaw dropped in awe, a small 'wow' escaping your throat as you admired it.

He had painted a bouquet of sunflowers. The yellows of the perfectly shaped petals contrasted each other, the colors flitting in and out between one another surrounded by beautiful lookalikes. Dark green leaves sprouted from outside the flowers, perfectly crafted and painted with the curves and veins of each little detail. The center of the flowers were stunning, dotted black and brown seeds engulfed in a sea of beautiful oranges, yellows, and browns. The grass and stems below them connected, entangled by one another and painted into an ocean of green grass.

You almost wanted to cry at it's beauty.

"That's so beautiful, Peeta," you breathed, exhaling and laughing in disbelief and amazement.

"I'm glad you like it, you look gorgeous with it," he smiled, his eyes creasing in the corners as he admired your expression.

You moved to hug him, careful not to smudge the painting, your arms wrapped around his neck and his hands met your lower waist.

"I love you," you murmured into his shirt. "Thank you for this masterpiece."

"I love you more than you could ever know," he whispered back, placing a light kiss on the top of your head.

main masterlist | my profile | thg masterlist | request | proof-read: ✓

[cannibalizedyke]

🍞peeta mellark masterlist🍞

key: ❤︎︎ - fluff, ☁︎︎ - angst, ★ - smut

coming soon!

[xspeter]

do yall ever think about the jaw dropping fics that are probably sitting collecting dust in someone’s drafts rn.

[venuslore]

one of peeta mellark's love languages is reassurance. he needs to know constantly that he is still welcome in your life. that he isn’t being a burden. that he isn’t taking up space that is not granted for him.

it becomes a habit to remind him of such. that he is your world and there’s no other way you would have it. that there’s no one else you could possibly ever want invading your space. you wanted him to yourself forever and you would spend every second of every day telling him so ᰔ

[sameschmidtdiffname]

I personally choose to believe that the Hunger Games series is supposed to be Katniss's memoir/way of setting the record straight about her and her loved ones part in the Games/war. Meaning I think the entire country of New Panem was going into a FIT with every new chapter they read, let alone book. Just imagine the podcasts for a second.

"SO THE STAR-CROSSED LOVERS OF DISTRICT 12."

"YEAH."

"FATED SOULMATES."

"DESTINED TO BE TOGETHER."

"Role model for all of our relationships, I think it's safe to say."

"Mmhmm."

"It was a SURVIVAL STRAT????"

That baby reveal??? Had the country in SHAMBLES when they realized Peeta was lying. Her editors probably told her to just keep that out and she probably just said "why?? I have actual kids now, it's fine." The tabloids are blowing clear the fuck up all day every day. Peeta's hijacking??? People already knew but they didn't know EVERYTHING. God, those podcasts were LIT.

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

would anyone be willing to send a small prompt for v-day? might help my brain to write something small.