#post!mockingjay fic

[laangdonn]

mother

summary: willow mellark can’t stop crying, and katniss stubbornly refuses any help from her mother.

pairing: post!mockingjay peeta mellark x katniss everdeen

a/n: i really love fics that explore katniss’s internal struggles with being a mom & prim’s absence in that… so i wrote my take! enjoyyyy

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three in the morning. it was three in the morning and still, sleep had not won over the incessant cries bouncing off of peeta and katniss’s bedroom walls.

katniss knew something was wrong the moment she heard the shrill cries, unlike any she’d ever heard, tear from her newborn baby girl’s small mouth. they were high pitched and never ending, surviving through countless attempts at feedings, diaper changes, and even a bath which left their bathroom floor flooded.

“peeta, she won’t stop!” katniss wanted to rip all the hair out of her scalp. “why won’t she stop?!”

“we’ve tried everything,” peeta said over the screams, his hands tugging at the roots of his hair as he paced back and forth. “we should call-“

“no,” katniss snapped, her clothes wet with their daughter’s tears, who was cradled in her arms, disheveled on her body. “no, we can do this.”

“we have been doing this,” peeta said, exasperated. he almost looked worse than katniss did, hair frazzled and eye bags drooping down to the middle of his nose. “i think it’s best we call-“

“we aren’t calling my mother.” katniss said definitely, stroking the wet pudgy cheek of her baby, red with the strain of her cries. her tiny fists clenched up against her face.

peeta ran a hand down his face, stopping to rub furiously at his eyes, “katniss, there’s no harm in asking her for help.”

“by the time she even gets here willow might’ve stopped.” katniss lied straight though her teeth, knowing very well their night was far from over without her mother there to help. “i can do this, i’m her mother.”

one of the many reasons why katniss never wanted kids was because she felt unworthy of being a mother. holding a title so precious, so serious, she’d assumed ‘tribute’ and ‘victor’ was more fitting. surely, katniss everdeen had no maternal instinct to anyone but her sister.

prim. suddenly, the thought of her crept into her mind as willow screamed bloody murder. how perhaps, if prim got to be a mother, her baby wouldn’t be so miserable. katniss always knew prim be better at this than she could ever dream of.

and it was a nightmare.

katniss could feel the tears burn behind her eyes, her nose stuffing up and her lips beginning to swell. the both of them crying would do absolutely no good, but the lack of sleep and the overwhelming feeling of not being good enough was more than she could take.

peeta recognized this, his facial features softening as he slowly approached her. “katniss, give me her.”

“no,” katniss shouted over willow, her voice breaking without warning. “i-“ she hiccuped a cry, “i can be this for her. let me be this for her.”

“you don’t have to prove anything, katniss.” peeta said softly, holding his hands out expectedly for his baby. “let me hold her while you take a break.”

reluctantly, katniss handed willow over to peeta, his lips curling into a solemn smile as he looked down at her, as if it would make her stop. her crying persisted, getting so bad to where they both wondered if haymitch would call from next door to put in a noise complaint.

katniss sat on the edge of the bed, watching through blurry, wet eyes as peeta paced back and forth, bouncing willow in his strong arms. she looked so small compared to him, her face buried snugly in his chest as she wet his shirt with tears and snot.

“cmon willow, what’s wrong?” he mumbled, using his other hand to rub down his face again.

“what if she’s sick?” katniss asked aloud, “what if somethings hurting her, what if-“

“i suggested we call your mother,” peeta reminded.

katniss rolled her swollen eyes, “i-“ she swallowed a sob, “i- i don’t-“ her chest began to weigh down on her. “we can’t call her-“

she hasn’t spoken to her mother since willow was born, and that was almost three months ago. it was like she knew katniss would be a bad mother, hovering over her the few days after the birth, till she finally decided to go. it made katniss breathe a sigh of relief when she heard the front door shut.

“breathe, katniss.”

katniss hadn’t even realized her eyes were clenched shut and she was shaking, choked sobs getting caught in her throat. peeta was bent down in front of her, willow still crying from the bassinet in the corner peeta had placed her in. his hands were on her knees, rubbing comforting circles.

“i cant even get my own baby to stop crying!” she sobbed out, the weight on her chest starting to crumble apart. “she’d be so ashamed of me,”

“your mother only wants to help-“

“no!” she shouted, digging her knuckles into her eyes. her next word came out weak and frail, “prim…”

calling her mother would only prove her point correct. that katniss can’t do this and prim should’ve. willow’s unending misery was an extension of her absence and katniss was suffocating in it.

and peeta knew. he always knows.

“she would be so proud of you, katniss.” she could barely hear him over her and willow’s combined sobs. “all baby’s cry.”

“not like this.” katniss defied, shaking her head.

peeta brushed a calloused hand on her cheek, forcing her chin up to look at him. “yes, like this.”

katniss sniffled, staring into the depths of his blue eyes to stabilize her. he was a constant in her life, through all the life changes they’d experienced in the past year, he’d always remained by her side. through his episodes and hers, he was always there.

and even now, as willow’s tiny lungs emit ear-splitting sounds, katniss remained his first priority.

“now, let’s call your mom so we can help our baby, okay?” katniss’s eyes focused on the bassinet behind him. a quick brush of his thumb on her cheekbone brought her back to his gaze. “okay, katniss?”

she sniffled again, her cries subsiding. “okay.”

they were lucky mrs. everdeen picked up in the late hours of the night, or early morning. katniss bit her fingernails as she watched peeta on the phone, willow resting on his chest, her tiny head on his shoulder as he rubbed her back soothingly. her screams were starting to get hoarse and quiet from strain.

he hung up the phone after a while, running his now free hand through his frizzy hair again. “she said take her outside, the fresh air could help.”

katniss nodded, looking at her daughter.

peeta followed her gaze, “do you want to take her?”

she shook her head yes and she was placed in her arms again. the two walked outside, praying haymitch wouldn’t come out to scold them for disturbing his peace.

both of them knew there’s no one he loved more in this world than willow, though.

the chilly morning air of june felt indescribably good on katniss’s sweaty, wet face. and apparently, it felt good for willow, too. her cries started dying down as gusts of light wind passed over them.

peeta had a hand brushing willow’s baby hairs, murmuring comforting words to her while katniss rocked her. the two working as a pair.

and it was katniss’s chest she nestled into when sleep finally overcame her, and her little fists unclenched and fell flax on her soft face. the silence was overwhelming and unfamiliar.

the two looked at each other, smiles gracing both of their faces.

“we did it.” peeta whispered, placing a light kiss on willow’s forehead, then giving katniss one on her chapped lips. “i told you,”

her eyes fell down to her daughter again. calm. because of her. because of them.

regardless of how katniss ever felt about her role, she’d always be willow’s mother. and peeta will always be her father, and raising a child isn’t a one man job. there’d always be him to keep her grounded, and vise versa, so she could always be there for willow.

“thank you,” she mumbled, looking up at him. “she wouldn’t have stopped without you.”

he smiled softly, “without us.”

once they’d gotten back into bed, and willow was sleeping softly in her bassinet, katniss felt her body completely relax itself. hearing her daughters soft breathing fill the air was more a reward than her life after winning the games.

“y’know,” peeta started quietly, running his fingers down katniss’s back as she lay on his broad chest. “your mom knew it wasn’t your idea to call her.”

she drew patterns on his chest, “i knew that much.”

“she knew why but she told me she’s never seen anyone love their baby as much as you do, katniss.”

her fingers stopped their movement, her head craning to stare at him.

peeta continued, “and she knew you’d figure out how to help her, eventually. even if that means taking advice from someone else.”

katniss sighed, turning to lay back down.

“you’re an incredible mother, katniss. she knows, i know it, and willow certainly knows it.”

peeta hesitated before saying,

“and prim knows it.”

yes, katniss thought, the movements of her fingers continuing on his chest. she knows.

[sodafizzyart]

Meant to draw something more explicit but I couldn’t get through the exposition

[adsosfraser]

always

everlark; post mockingjay; jealous katniss

The roof is leaking. 

The tin bucket rings with the tap tap tap of the evenly spaced droplets. 

The deluge of rain hit hard last night and it has me humming happily, excitement in my chest. 

I’ve always loved thunder. The way it rolls deep within my chest and echoes in the deep old bones of the mountains around us. I would squeal with each clap and reach up to catch it in our Seam home as my daddy smiled from his chipped armchair. We’d play a game of hopping from spot to spot on the floor at each rumble and though his eyes hung in deep dark circles from his shifts in the mines, my father never tired. Then, Prim was born and she was terrified of thunderstorms for a time. 

It’s just one leak in our shiny and spiffy Capitol made home that’s been standing for almost a century now though. Thom and his builders have much more important things on their minds than a tiny leak in our roof. 

Some people still don’t even have roofs. The make-shift canvas of the sturdy tents lining the district hardly constitute roofs. 

When the war began, the Capitol wasn’t quite as invested in the architecture in their dear sweet Victors’ homes. They couldn’t keep up their perfect veneer in District 12 when they obliterated it into the ground. The poor things. 

And besides, a little water didn’t hurt that much. In my father’s home, we had at least ten designated containers to catch the drip of rainfall. 

When I step outside into the morning, the sun is bright and clear in the sky. No trace of the ominous grey and green puffs above remains. The grass is wet and smells of rain. A small trickle of a stream has formed on the gravelly road, opposite our home. At least the geese have been subdued into some semblance of peace because of the storm. 

Peeta had left this morning before the sun even stretched out into the sky. Usually I would already be out in the woods too, or by his side watching him knead dough or wipe sweat off his brow. 

But, I couldn’t settle last night. Even in Peeta’s arms I was restless. And when my eyes finally drooped shut, a nightmare had found me. The giant crash of thunder that split the sky in two in the middle of the night woke me up. In my dreams all I heard were bombs and gunfire. It had reminded me of-

Peeta let me rest in this morning when he heard my grumpy grunt as I shoved my face under the pillows to hide from the sunlight. Not that he let me do anything. But he had gently tucked me back in and left a muffin on my nightstand for when I was ready. 

Part of me wanted to pull him back in by the shirt of his buttoned collar and waste away the day. But even my arms wouldn’t listen to my demands. The bed was so nice and I fell deep into the mattress covered in one of the sheets as Peeta left the fan to run for me. The cinnamon and dill buried deep within the fabric of his side made me feel like I was rocking on a boat, in a lake with gentle rolling waves in my head. 

Besides, we haven't even kissed since he returned to me almost four months ago. At first the chaos of finishing the important parts of the bakery and going through the final touches to get it up and running had us distracted. Now I’m not so sure he wants to kiss me. 

I kick the loose rocks littering my path to the bakery. They skip and hop and fling themselves in the air. One hits another rock and angles itself to launch at someone passing me clear across the street but their back is turned and they don’t even feel it ping off the heel of their boot. I mumble an apology to myself though, and feel the heat of shame caving in on me from every inch of air around me. 

Before I know it, I’m in front of the bakery. It was one of the first buildings up in Twelve. Everytime I see it my heart swells with pride for Peeta. Even though it’s just the bare bones now, I can see its future clear across every brick. The sign hangs proudly over the front. The ‘s’ in Mellark’s is slightly crooked and splotchy because of my shaky hands, but when Peeta began painting it with such excited and reverent hands, he insisted I contribute to at least one part of it. 

Normally, I never enter through the front door of the bakery. The back door has always been home to me in a way. The first time I ever came to the back doorstep, I was sitting tall on my father’s shoulders and happily babbling along to a tune he was singing. He and Mr. Mellark quickly exchanged two squirrels with a respectful nod and I mimicked them which put the trace of a laugh onto the baker’s weathered face.  

Now, I want to surprise Peeta as one of his customers. The bell of the door jingles as I walk through the door. No one mans the front counter so he must be in the back. 

“I’ll be with you shortly.” 

His voice carries through the opening to the room with the ovens and prep tables and my shoulders relax at his calm but steady voice. The way the bakery was built and rebuilt, it’s easy for him to call out to customers without having to yell. My lip twitches up into a soft smile and I pull out one of the chairs dotting the tables around the room. 

His clomping footsteps and another ring of the bell clash together in my mind. I look up to see the new customer, expecting someone from Thom’s crew but I instantly tense up at the sight. 

Her hair is coiled perfectly into ringlets around her face and a big fur coat rests on her shoulders. Her chest is unnaturally large and her bottom even more so. But she’s perfect, right down to her nails. Not a blemish in sight and her blonde hair shines with health and lustre. 

She’s big and pretty.

“Artementia!” 

Peeta’s shout pulls me from my scrutiny of the clearly Capitol woman. His steps are quick as he approaches her and wipes the flour off of his hands onto his apron. 

My head jerks back when he reaches for her across the counter and they embrace. His smile is brilliant and he doesn’t even notice me lurking in the corner. 

“Oh my dear.” They pull back from their hug and that woman kisses both of his cheeks, dangerously close to the corner of his mouth. “It’s been far too long.” 

“It really has Artie.” He squeezes her hand. “How have things been for you?” 

“Well why don’t we go and have lunch together? I’m sure you’ll be having your break soon anyway.” 

“It’s just me today, I’m not sure I can just close up shop for my lunch break.” 

“They can survive without you for an hour I’m sure. Just flip your little sign over and we can go to the opening of that restaurant down the street.” 

Peeta’s head turns to the back, searching a long moment for something. When he turns around, it seems he’s already made up his mind. He lets out a sigh before plastering his smile back on for the woman. 

“Well alright,” His hands work swiftly to unknot the apron around his waist and place it on the counter. “Sure wouldn’t want anyone else to give you the grand tour of our pristine district.” 

She places a hand over her chest and lets out a soft laugh and Peeta’s chest rumbles with a short chuckle. 

They walk over to the door, not even glancing my way as Peeta flips the sign on the door over to ‘closed’ and locks the door. Before the door smacks shut behind them, I shove it open and storm past them in the opposite direction. To the woods. 

The rock in my hand scatters to the ground. 

It was pretty and I thought Peeta would’ve enjoyed its smooth surface and swirling brown rings. 

But maybe now it’s not enough to preoccupy his mind with the pretty blood and flesh woman beside him. 

His head whips back to the loud sound of the slamming door and ping of the rock and I quickly turn my face away from his line of vision. 

“Katniss?” His hopeful voice calls out. But I’m already pushing to round the corner of the rebuilt merchant businesses. “Katniss!” 

He can have fun with his gorgeous Capitol woman on his arm. I don’t care. 

I save the grumbling for later though, my mind focuses on the ground below me as my legs carry me in a spring towards the fence. I duck under my spot in the chain-link and snatch up my bow and arrows. 

After the fifth poor squirrel participates in my very important exercise of letting my feeling’s flow for the day, I climb up a strong and tall tree. I lean into the familiarity of pulling myself up its sprawling branches and swinging my body up and up. Reaching for the sky just as its leaves are. 

Have I really lost my dandelion in the spring already? 

Did the hungry storms of last night, and the contrast of the harsh summer sun this morning already wilt it?

He so easily welcomed that woman’s touch. Someone from the Capitol no less. And he’s barely touched me in months. Save our desperate grip on each other as the terrors of the night take over. 

I will not be sharing a town with the woman Peeta so readily shares himself with. 

Instead of rough bark behind my back, I feel the hard arm of a rocking chair digging into my spine. The room is cosy and safe, like Peeta. I feel the sway of my body with the branches of the tree and hug my knees tight to my chest. 

“This baby takes nothing from you Kitty, my heart just has to grow some more. Like my tummy. That’s all.” 

I relax into her arms, feeling the steady beat of her heart where my head lays. Her stomach is fat, nice and cushy. As fat as anyone in the Seam could ever get. She smells pretty. Like the dirt and plants Daddy lets me dig my grubby little fingers into. I feel the song rattle through my chest as she hums to me. My head gets droopy and I curl further into her. Her hands run through my hair and as she rocks our bodies together on the chair, my head clouds with dreams that I can’t touch yet. But I know they’re there. Happy and warm. 

“I’ll always be right here with you baby.” 

Shivering in the downpour I’ve been caught in, I hum the same tune she soothed me to. Without thinking, my body rocks back and forth on the soaked moss and lichen on the limb closest to the ground. If I let my hand hang limp from my side I could probably brush the tops of the chives sticking out near the base with my fingertips. I don’t remember my journey down from the top of the tree, but it must’ve happened somehow. 

I could be crying. I don’t know. The fat raindrops on my face disguise any that may come. 

But it would be hard to disguise the snot squirming its way out of me. I rub my bare forearm under my nose. 

I do what I do best. 

I run. I hide away. And I sulk. 

It doesn’t matter. 

They all leave. 

Even if they don’t want to, they always do. My father and Prim's choice was made for them. I don’t know what’s worse. To have Peeta’s choice made for him or for him to actively choose that I no longer fit into his life. 

Either way, it’s all unbearable to think about. I gasp in sharp breaths and my chest is tight with the pain and fatigue of it all. I feel like I’ve just run the worst marathon of my life, and I’ve never even gone over five miles when training for the Quell put a stick up Peeta’s ass. 

His clomping footsteps alert me to his presence long before I can see his form through the sheets of rain obscuring my vision. Maybe if I tuck further into myself he won’t notice me sitting on the lowest branch of the tree. 

I was never a lucky person though. 

He approaches me slowly, like I would a skittish animal. I tuck my chin into the safety of my knees. Surely he’ll go away if I ignore him hard enough. 

I feel the air move around me as he swings a leg up and over and brings his body to rest on the same branch as me. It’s not without difficulty though, I know his leg still bothers him and can be cumbersome at times. After a quiet moment of him gathering his balance again, he lifts my chin up with his finger. 

I can feel the tear tracks, dry and crusty against my cheeks and I know I look like a drowned rat, or rather a drowned Buttercup from my little pity party under the torrential rain. 

“Oh, Katniss.” Warmth floods through me, all-consuming and relieving as his thumb traces the skin under my eye. “What’s wrong baby?”

My nose stings again as a fresh wave of fat tears fall from my eyes at the nickname. My lip wobbles and I can’t breathe. I try to answer, but everything comes out as a choked sob. Peeta reaches around to wrap his arm around me, rubbing my back in comforting circles. When I finally get the words out, they’re incomprehensible with my stuttering breath, throat full of tears, and snot muffling everything. To anyone but Peeta, who knows me so well, past the need for language. 

“Why doesn’t she want me anymore?” 

“What brought all of this on sweet girl?” 

“You’re leaving me.” 

“Not real.” 

“Maybe not your arms. But you are. Your heart.” 

“Never Katniss.” 

Fat rain drops fall from his delicate eyelashes, leaving behind them a darker shade of blond from the moisture. 

“You’re right here Katniss.” His steady and warm hands take my hand that’s shivering from the cold. He guides it straight over his chest and the comforting thump of his heart beneath warms me more than his coat he wrapped tightly around me does. I blink at his motions, my mind puzzling and patching them together into an attempt at coherency. 

His other hand reaches towards me and he watches me closely for any sign of apprehension in my eyes. I can’t manage any to bubble up in me at the moment. Tentatively, he presses the pads of his fingers against my own chest, speeding up the beat of my own heart along with his under the firm press the palm of my hand has against it. His fingers straighten until the heel of his own hand is flush against my heart. The soaked fabric of my shirt clings to us both from the water of the rain. 

“And I’m right here.” The pitch of his voice sounds at the edge of a question and a statement. 

It’s not fair to him to be stuck with me though, just because he knows I wouldn’t be able to handle it. He deserves someone good and beautiful. Just like him. 

Not a girl scarred from the fire she wore for pageantry and glory. 

“I’m not pretty enough for you. I’m not big enough.” 

“Sweetheart.” 

“I wasn’t enough.” 

“Katniss.” My name breaks on his tongue; he physically can’t even force the muscles to move again, as if the ache in his chest is agonisingly painful from the blow of my words. I understand now. His heart is broken. Like I shot an arrow through him instead of the truth. Maybe I did, the day I sang to the birds in kindergarten and we’re forever tethered now from the invisible line of bow string to arrowhead. 

“I love you.” 

His beautifully made eyes well with tears, glossing the blue over with his pain. My eyes begin to water again, even after I’ve exhausted myself of the hydration required to sustain them. It’s not hard to feel what a man like Peeta feels for yourself, deep in your bones. 

“I came back for you. Back to twelve. Back to myself.”

“It kills me that you think you’re not enough. I’m so sorry I said those words in 13 to you. I know I’ll never be able to take them back. Or the-” He stares at my throat, where his hands once wove together into a nest of fear and pure hatred and I swallow under his gaze. “But I promise Katniss. I will remind you how beautiful and smart and brave and loving you are every single day. You are perfect for me.” 

“But you don’t want me.” 

“I’ve wanted you that way ever since I’ve understood what it meant.” 

But that doesn’t make sense. His constant distance and the sincerity behind his words clash within my mind. My brow furrows and my face deepens into a scowl.  

“Show me.” 

His eyes drag from their connection with mine, down to my lips. He looks back to me and his eyes widen with an emotion I’m all too familiar with. 

“I’m afraid.” 

“What?” 

“I’m afraid I won’t stop Katniss. They changed me. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“So don’t stop. You’re my Peeta. No matter what.” 

The kiss is gentle and sweet and I pull my body back against the rough bark, forcing him to lean into me even more. I cradle him between my thighs and smile against his lips. They taste like a fresh burst of blueberries on my tongue and my smile widens at the thought of him sneaking his own fresh muffin from the bakery’s supplies. The way his lips slide against mine, slick with the torrent of rain that assaults us is new and exciting. To consume the very rain itself off of his lip makes my chest flutter at the fact that not even the rain will get the chance to touch him that way so long as I remain in this embrace. 

He shifts slightly against me and I immediately panic at the feel of him in that way. My body stiffens straight under him and he pulls back from my lips with a sheepish grin. 

There’s an apology in his clear eyes but I won’t have that. I speak before his mouth can form the words.  

I blurt out in a pant. “I like kissing you.” 

I tuck my head into his shoulder to hide the blush that crosses my cheeks. But it’s too late. He’s already seen it if the dopey smile on his face is any indication. 

“I like kissing you too.” His lips find the small space of skin by my hairline that isn’t hidden. 

I scoot closer to him and burrow into his chest. 

And that motion was a big mistake. Or maybe the best mistake I’ve made today.

We both carreen down into the cushion of soft grass below us when I push Peeta off-balance. A giggle bursts from my mouth unbidden as I land mostly on top of him. His body bears the brunt of the fall but he seems completely fine and a goofy grin crosses his face. He leans up to me and my heart flutters when he pulls me in for another short, sweet kiss. I nestle my knees around his hips and pull back from him with a smile. 

I reach my hand to his ear and tuck a wisp of blond back behind his ear. The kisses and our proximity have made me bolder. Bold enough to interrogate him. “What is your little blonde girlfriend going to think about this?” 

He sits up to bring his upper body off the damp ground and my body follows him. 

“Who?” 

I roll my eyes at him. I hold a hand to my chest and bat my eyelashes at him. “Oh Peeta it’s been far too long.” 

“So that’s what this was all about. You were jealous?” 

“No.” I scowl, crossing my arms tight over my chest. 

“Katniss, she’s old enough to be our mother. Maybe even our grandmother.”

“Hmm.” My eyebrow twitches. “Maybe you’re into that sort of thing.” 

He wraps his arms tighter around my waist, deliberately lower than where they were last time. He looks into my eyes for any sign that he’s gone too far but I won’t give him any. With a light pressure, he squeezes my backside tentatively with a wolfish grin, as if he’s just gotten away with stealing the last cookie from the cookie jar. 

“What I’m into is what I have my hands full of right now.” 

“But seriously Katniss, she saved us from the bombing in the Capitol after I tried to drag you away. She visited us both but I was the only one awake when she did.” His eyes are tender as he brushes a sopping wet piece of hair off of my collarbone. “It’s only ever been you my darling girl.” 

“And it only ever will be?” 

“Always.”

[vasilissadragomir]

Everlark Fic Drop: Us Among the Living

hi y'all! it's been a longgg time coming but i'm so excited to share my first fic in over 10 years (and my first thg fic ever)!

Us Among the Living is a canon-compliant, pre-epilogue growing together fic exploring Katniss and Peeta's relationship as well as their lives in District 12 in the months following the second rebellion. it's gonna be long, it's gonna be a slow burn, and according to @everdares and @belikov, it's gonna cause tears.

i am on temporary hiatus until july. however, when i return i will update every friday as usual. i hope y'all enjoy <3

18 chapters out now posted on a03!

[oolhan]

our little games

Wordcount: 1.7k

| Post-mockingjay. Peeta and Katniss making up their own guessing game with pastries that he brings home every night from the bakery |

No warnings! It’s literally a fluff fest following my realization about what Peeta and Katniss smells here and @mollywog’s replies conceiving a sudden birth of this prompt. Lol. This is my first time writing for everlark and I kid you not I oiled up my rusty writing skills from lit classes. Thanks also for @distractionsfromthefood for your support! Unbeta-ed, but enjoy!

It started when I came home early from the bakery, surprised to find Katniss curled on the couch covered with her oversized hunting jacket. She looked up from the arm rest and her cheeks were red and dry with tears. Nothing surprising, honestly, it’s just one of those days. I automatically walked up and knelt on her side, forgetting to take my shoes off in the foyer.

“Who is it this time?” I hushed, giving attention to her black strands clinging dry on her cheeks, softly flinging them aside while her head rested on the arm rest.

“Dad…”

“In the woods?” I glanced at her father’s hunting jacket she used as a blanket and carefully move it to wipe her tears, tucking its collar under her chin.

“No, couldn’t get past the door…”

“Okay, do you want to stand up now?”

“No…” A silence.

“Stay with me though?” Ah. There it is. Yeah, alright. Always.

She scooted on the couch to give me space and I obliged, lying down cramped with my shoes still on, faces inches from one another.

“What do you want for dinner?” I whispered, caressing her brow with my thumb. I’ll never get tired brushing her face this way.

She scoffed a smile. “Pancakes?”

“Pancakes?” my eyebrows shot up. Pancakes for dinner?

“Yeah, you smell like maple,” she chuckled, her eye wrinkles right under my thumb.

“Probably because of the maple butterscotch brownies I made for Sae’s granddaughter today,” I murmured, tracing lines on her nose. “She said she didn’t know what maple tastes like,”

“That’s so Peeta of you to do,” she grumbled, mustering all seriousness with her brows. That made me snort.

“Yeah, well.”

“I want those butterscotch stuff now.”

My smile got wider.

----

The next day, I set aside some of the cupcakes I frosted for the seamstress’s kid’s birthday to bring home for Katniss. I never got to take my shoes off when she wrapped her arms around my neck, her face on my chest, the boxed sweets held on my free arm as I put the other over her.

“Hello, again,” I say, giving her a kiss after leaning back. “I’ve got you something,”

I hid the blue box behind me, smirking at her head tilting in curiosity. “You have to guess it first!” I played.

“Is it food?”

“Mhm.”

“Cheese buns?”

“No, I just made those for you two days ago.” I chimed. Her and her obsession with cheese buns.

“Those butterscotch brownies?”

“Unfortunately sold out,”

“Wait,” She reached for the front of my jacket, sniffing it. Then she’s whiffing off my undershirt, my hands, my chest, my neck. I tried not to shiver when her nose pressed under my earlobe.

“Buttercream…”

I tried not to grin.

“Cupcakes?” She eagerly tugged on my jacket.

“Oh, Katniss,” I chuckled, presenting the box wrapped with a simple red bow. She unties it and quickly picks the one with green frosting.

“This would be dessert after venison!”

----

After that, I practically came home everyday bearing random pastries for her to guess. I never get my shoes off in the foyer when she hauls herself on me and give my daily hugs.

“Ooh, something creamy today,” she quipped, leaning back from my undershirt. “Is it a cake?”

“Not even close.”

“Tarts?”

I shake my head.

“Something with custard?”

“Probably.”

“Custard pie?”

“Warmer,”

“Egg pie?”

“Warmerrr,”

“Ice cream? Vanilla cake with cream frosting?” She tugs on my jacket repeatedly, almost shaking me to give up my answer.

“Sweetheart, you’re cold again.” I tried not to laugh at her growing impatience when strands from her braid fell on her face, the box still unreachable behind me, and my free arm curling those anrgy locks between my fingers. Her eyebrows are beginning to crease the way they do when she gets close enough to Haymitch’s geese.

“What is it, Mellark?” Oh, I love nothing more than seeing her scowl.

“Guess, Everdeen. Or I’ll eat this alone after din—” She cut off with a grasp on my head and a kiss on tiptoes.

“Tell me now, Mellark!”

“That’s coercion!” I teased. She leaned up for more pecks, but I backed away chuckling.

“Peeta!”

“Alright, let’s make a deal. Guess this right with three tries, or give me a kiss every time you bite to it.” I challenged, plastering an impish grin.

“How am I supposed to guess it? All pastries have cream!” Her eyebrows are close to meeting now.

“Oh yes, minced meat pie is creamy.”

“Is it minced meat pie?”

“No, it’s not savory.” I clued in, getting impatient myself. I didn’t even take my shoes and jacket off and we’ve been playing this guessing game for minutes now.

Just pick the latter and let me kiss you.

She crossed her arms playfully, “Screw you, Mellark. I’ll take the second option just because dinner is getting cold. Now give it.”

“Groundbreaking choice.” I thumbed her annoyed forehead and unraveled her angry arms, revealing the box from behind and untying the red ribbon.

Her creases came back when she saw the hidden pastry.

“How is bread pudding close to a pie?!” She exclaimed, all angry tone and yet she’s pinching off a piece from the pudding. I made some batches up from the stale ones.

She bites through the pinched bread. I took the first peck.

----

It became a routine. Coming home at dusk. Stomping my shoes on the foyer. Her arms clinging briefly, nose sniffing, her guessing every item right, a peck on the lips, a dinner and a dessert.

“You smell dill and garlic today,”

“Did it cling that strong?”

“Doesn’t matter. I like it, it’s soft, like a little savory treat.” She murmured in my ear, rendering me still when she softly nipped my earlobe.

She never does that.

Her arm swooped under my elbow, taking the blue box from my hands and revealing a bed of focaccia sprinkled with dills. “Hmmm,” she moaned through her bites and I fought the urge to kiss that crumb off on the side of her mouth.

Is she trying to kill me?

I coughed, brushing off her innuendos and finally taking my shoes off.

----

Assuming her favorite days were cinnamon and buttercream, she does more than just short kisses whenever those days come. The soft bites on my neck and earlobes happens only when I come home smelling like it. That’s the time I sink down my fingers in her hair a little deeper or my hands grip her hips a little tighter.

Today, I grasp her braid a little stronger, my arm roping around her backside, giving her neck some nips of my own. I breathed her in, taking a whiff of her own scent—woods, sweat, something feminine, and entirely Katniss—wishing I could store away some of her in this manner, freezing this moment. I let her lift my head and kiss me senseless, mouths meeting, tongues twirling.

“I, uh, frosted someone’s wedding cake today,” Taking a peck on her nose, I tried to catch my breath when we break away.

“requested something with cinnamon and buttercream frosting,” I sighed, brushing off her brow, noticing her now diluted eyes. I failed to bring anything home because of those three tiers.

“Good for them,” she breathed.

“Couldn’t bring home anything,”

“Good for me,” She gulped and collided our mouths again. She took my shoes off along with my jacket. Dinner got cold that night.

---

Fall had a slow welcome. It was a seasonably cold day when she doesn’t push herself to me after I opened the front door. Disappointed, I took off my shoes and head to the living room, finding her standing up from near the fireplace when she noticed me. Our memory book laying on the carpet along with some papers.

“Hey you,” her cold form wraps around mine and I tried not to ask her what’s wrong too quickly.

“Guess?” I quipped, pecking her red cheeks. Did she just come back from outside?

“Butter cookies?” even with her wavering tone, she was right. Although I don’t point out the way she hid a small choke when she hugged me.

“You okay?” I let out warm breath on my palms, placing them on either side of her face and this time I felt her visibly holding her breath, her nose scrunching. “What’s wrong? Who is it this time?”

“No, no episodes. I just… I was nauseous the whole afternoon and tried to walk it out. I think I just miss them,”

“Hm. Come here, let’s warm up,” I led her to the fireplace and sat down together, the memory book lay open in front of us.

“Actually Peeta, I think I’ll prepare dinner.” She suddenly stood up, giving me a kiss on the forehead before heading to the kitchen. That was uncharacteristic of her.

But I didn’t question it. Not yet.

I started to wonder when she doesn’t meet me in the foyer anymore. Our guessing game slowly turned from minute hugs to silent smiles. It was when I brought home some seasonal apple pie that she couldn’t hold back a gag when she tried to hug me.

Doesn't she like apples? Can’t I recall if she hated apples?

“God I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to gag at all. I just, I don’t know, it just smells sour.”

“I baked them fresh this morning so they’re likely not foul. But yeah, okay, I’ll just drop these off to Haymitch—”

“No, Peeta, your hands. They smell so apple-y.” Her expression was a twist of scowling and being disgusted. I sliced dozens of apples today so the scent clung too much even when I washed off with some soap.

“Sweetheart, we chopped all day at the bakery, the smell will last for some hours I think,”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why, I always liked apples,”

“It’s okay, let me give these to Haymitch and then I’ll scrub off in the shower.”

----

The next day I brought home some of the extra orange cake slices, dreading she’ll also hate these.

They were never put down on the table.

She devoured three slices in minutes.

Also gobbled my orange scented fingers.

----

Still mildly unhappy we didn’t return to our guessing games after a week, I didn’t bring anything with me today. I was taking my shoes off when I saw her beaming by the couch, her face tinted red with anticipation and she looks like she’s about to cry.

“What? What is it?” I rushed to her in my loose shoes and jacket still on.

“Peeta, I think I know why.”

Eyebrows crinkled. My hands on her elbows.

"You know I always love what you make but...

Her fingers fidgeting. Her blushing cheeks and silver stare the only things registering in my mind.

“I think I’m pregnant.”

She guessed right.

[itcanbegoodagain]

Pregnancy Cravings

Word Count: 1288

Rating: N/A

Inspired by this video.

"There's no rules, baby," Peeta says softly, the corner of his lip quirking up in amusement at my frustration. "Do what your instinct tells you to."

I close my eyes. Take a deep breath. Then, carefully, I dip the brush into the light pink I made, swirling together white and red. I bring it to the canvas and begin to fill in the gentle lines Peeta drew for me. I start at the edges of the petals, bringing the color down in quick strokes. I've learned that if I think too much about how I move the brush, the more I mess up.

A few minutes of silence pass by before Peeta murmurs that I'm doing well, and the primroses look beautiful. I smile, not taking my eyes off the painting in front of me. "Eyes on your own work, Mellark."

He laughs next to me, and I hear him shift before putting his palette down. He holds my head steady, pressing a kiss to the side of it. "What can I get you to eat? I'm going to the kitchen."

"I'm okay," I reply.

"Yeah, sure, the noises coming from your stomach totally mean you're not hungry," he says with an eye roll I can hear.

I look at him out of the corner of my eye, clearly admitting he's right. "Do we have any leftover cinnamon rolls from yesterday? I could probably eat a whole baker's dozen in three seconds."

"Lemme check." Then he's out the door, taking the warmth of his hands on my head with him.

Cabinets open, then he yells back. "No cinnamon rolls."

Immediately, tears spring into my eyes. They blur my vision slightly, but I focus on the flowers and holding the brush correctly. Slowly, one drips down my face. Down the drain that hope goes.

He walks back into the room, holding a small plate of date bread he made today. "I brought the bread from this morning to hold you over until-" he breaks off. Peeta sets the plate down with a quiet sigh. He nears, frees my hands, then kneels in front of me. He holds my hands to his chest and looks up at me. "What's up, Katniss?"

I sniff, feeling ridiculous, and say, "I just... cinnamon rolls sound really good right now. I wasn't lying when I said I could eat a lot of them."

He laughs quietly. "I know -- you can always eat a lot, even when there isn't a baby asking for more." He brings my hand to his lips for a kiss. "What do you want me to do?"

"Can you make some?" I ask hopefully.

"I don't have everything here," he says, protesting when my face breaks again. "But hey, hey, there is some dough at the bakery that I've had proving since last night. I can go get it and make you some fresh rolls in less than an hour."

"No, Peeta, I don't want you to go all the way there for me."

He smiles, shaking his head a little. "What, like that's the most taxing thing I've ever done for you?"

"Peeta, I'm serious," I cry.

He pulls me into a hug. "Me too, Katniss, okay? I love you and our baby you're carrying, and if you both want some cinnamon rolls, who am I to deny you?"

I brush my hands over my face, wiping away the tears. I look at him, and my heart feels so close to bursting it's hard to breathe. "Are you sure?" I ask quietly.

"There is nothing else I want to do right now," he replies. My stomach does a little flip at his words.

"Okay," I whisper. "Thank you."

He grins at me, leaning forward to press a kiss to my lips. I hold him there for a moment, relishing in his warmth and comfort and love.

"I'll be back soon. Get comfy, or keep painting, and there will be cinnamon rolls before you know it." He presses one more kiss to my lips before walking to the doorway. Once there, he pauses for a moment, leaning against the doorway to watch me compose myself. When I start painting again, he taps the wood with his hand a couple times and he's gone.

--

I'm in the living room when I hear the timer go off for the oven. I'm curled up on the couch with a blanket, stroking Buttercup's fur.

Soon, Peeta exits the kitchen with a large plate in hand, a knife and napkins in the other. He sits beside me, setting the plate on the small table before us. "There, fresh and warm. All for you," he tells me, laying an arm across the back of the couch.

I reach forward and grab one with my fingers, ignoring the knife completely. As I bring it close, I get a close whiff of its smell, and my stomach turns. My mouth closes, my face turning away from it and Peeta.

"Katniss?" he asks. "What is it?"

I break down into tears again, putting the roll back on the plate. I cover my face, getting a little bit of frosting on my forehead with the movement.

I cry and laugh simultaneously, not believing the state I'm in right now. This is absolutely stupid. "I..." I begin. I feel his hands on my back, rubbing soothing circles, and I cry harder.

"Katniss," Peeta says again, real concern pushing through.

I drop my hands and look at him, tears running down my cheeks. "I know I said that cinnamon rolls sounded good, but... But they don't anymore. And you went all the way to the bakery to get the dough and make them for me, and I don't even want them anymore, and I'm so picky and ungrateful-"

"Woah, hey," he says, cutting me off. "First of all, you are not picky. You would eat food off the floor. Second, you are not ungrateful, Katniss, okay?" His hands move to my face, brushing away the hair there so he can get a good look at my tear-stained cheeks. "You thank me all the time even though you don't need to. We're married, so you never have to feel bad or thank me for taking care of you. It's the pride of my life."

Without conscious thought, I crawl into his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck. His arms circle me, pulling me close. Slowly, he rocks us back and forth, and my slight hiccuping sobs grow smaller before they fade away entirely. He presses kisses to the side of my head the whole time, whispering little things about his love for me in my ear.

"Okay?" he asks, minutes later.

I take in a shaky breath. "I'm okay," I tell him quietly. "And I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for," he replies. "You're doing something incredible, giving over your body for months for something we both get to enjoy for the rest of our lives. I don't have to feel what you do. I want to take care of you, no matter what that looks like."

He pulls my head from his neck. "I love you, Katniss, and the baby you're growing in your stomach. If I wasn't in it for the ups and downs, for the long haul, I wouldn't have married you. But I am, so I did."

"I love you, too," I say, leaning forward to kiss him. It's a little snotty, a little teary, but that's okay. "You make me feel so safe. I wouldn't be able to do this without you."

Peeta hugs me close for a few minutes more. "Katniss," he says quietly, "I can literally feel your stomach growling. What sounds good?"

[blackpatrxnum]

(too many) thoughts and headcanons on life post mockingjay for hayffie and everlark

- it's just pure fluff with some hurt/comfort thrown in there, whoopsie -

Haymitch becoming Katniss' caretaker is so beautiful, I truly see him keeping sober after the war - maybe he bingedrank once back at twelve because the old demons are hard to chase away, but the next day when he sees Katniss depressed he realises he is far more useful sober. He had to take care of her, he still had a purpose. He is slowly helping her get better, maybe accompanying her to the woods for the first few times. He's just there

And even though Peeta goes back home, moves in with her, loves her, keeps the nightmares at bay... Haymitch keeps coming back, keeps making dinner for them, keeps going on walks, teasing, fussing a bit (it seems like he's learnt a lot from effie)

One time, when Peeta and Katniss both have influenza, Haymitch goes full doctor/dad mode - and for the first time, a highly feverish Katniss calls him dad. I'd see Haymitch stopping whatever he was doing for a sec and fight back at smile and then giving Katniss a kiss on her forehead and telling her a less charged version of stay alive.

Eventually, I think that Effie would come to 12. She'd move into Haymitch's house and at first, that feat would bring Katniss and Haymitch even closer. Effie was everywhere, she nagged and she prodded, she got on his nerves. So Haymitch sometimes runs away to Katniss' house, he took solace in the other's kindred spirit. They'd have a laugh, she'd let him bitch about her. She liked Effie but she didn't know her well enough yet. I think in these instances Peeta would be either at the Bakery or he just knew to let them have their time, he saw what they were to each other, how important they were for the other's well being.

But then, during the last months leading up to Prim's death anniversary, right around the time Katniss starts closing in on herself, getting broodier - moodier. Haymitch and Effie's relationship changes, after months of living together, learning their tricks and ticks; they fall in love, properly, absolutely. Haymitch gets lost on the high of the honeymoon stage. It also serves as a bit of a coping mechanism to keep the nightmares and horror from the war at bay.

It's not that he ignores Katniss, or Peeta for that matter. He's just... less aware, looks at everything with rose coloured glasses. After a long time, they are fine, content. The past is past.

Katniss feels like Effie is EVERYWHERE. She's the only one out of the three victors that isn't as happy with her presence. Effie loves Katniss, she considers Katniss as hers but Katniss isn't there... yet. (I feel like this would steem from her own relationship with her biological parents' - her dad left, he couldn't help it, he died but he always took care of her and her family, he taught her how to survive / SEE THE PARALLELISM WITH HAYMITCH TELLING KATNISS TO STAY ALIVE / but her mum... she abandoned her, from a young age, Katniss had to make do, she put bread on the table, she protected Aster and Prim, and her mom at the end, once again, CHOSE to leave her behind)

So yeah, Katniss is naturally wary of Effie, pair that with her Capitol self and it could be a recipe for disaster. At some point, they'd have a row - she says stuff that hurts Effie to her core - and Haymitch hates that. He tries to mediate but he gets "scalded". Katniss starts to avoid them, him. She gets worse. The demons are louder than ever.

And Haymitch two weeks into it, finally has to take matters into his own hands. They fight like they've never done before. Katniss yelling "You're not my dad" stops them in their tracks, 'cause at some point Haymitch really forgot. He just thought they didn't do the mushy shit and say it, there was no need for more acknowledgement after that feverish night. She was his to protect, she was his to care for, she was his to love.

It'd hurt him more than he'd let on.

They'd sulk, for a bit. Haymitch would storm out, but he'd also be the one to patch them up. I think they'd talk. It would go well, even though they're not such open books. They'd compromise. They'd acknowledge in the open air what they meant for the other. They'd move on. I think this would be the point when they start working on the Tributes book; because Katniss needs to do something with all the grief inside her. The woods and the happy family was not cutting it anymore.

And the four of them would sometimes get better, other times' they'd get worse. But they're always there for each other, like proper family. After sometime Katniss would leave behind the flight/fight mode. And yeah, life goes on.

I see her relationship with Effie getting better, to the point that sometimes she goes to her instead of Haymitch for stuff. Because she knows she won't leave. She learns to accept her flaws, she learns to love her happier and more optimistic demeanor. Effie also lets Katniss see, finally, the other side to her - the more human, vulnerable side that only Haymitch was privy to. Peeta's always seen through the cracks tho, so it doesn't surprise him as much. Peeta does know he's hers. Katniss learns to see herself as hers too.

And Peeta's and Katniss' wedding comes. They're forced to make a bigger spectacle than what they wanted to. Mama Effie and Papa Haymitch come to the rescue and fight to get them as much privacy as they can. Effie plans the whole thing to their liking.

I think she'd insist on adding a bit of Capitol tradition to it: the bride and the groom spending the night before the wedding apart. At first Effie would spend the night at Peeta's and Katniss' house, to keep him company in case he has an episode. And Katniss would go to Hayffie's. But Peeta makes a funny comment "It's not like you and Effie are getting married too, there's no need to make you suffer through the night alone" and Haymitch...just gets this little twinkle in his eyes. They accept with the promise that if Peeta has any troubles he'd come to them. So Katniss is the one that spends the night at Hayffie's.

They'd have a mostly quiet night in, Effie has more outward nerves than anyone else. The next day, Effie wakes Katniss up with her "big big day". But in a flurry she's gone to Peeta's, to make sure he gets dressed and is right on schedule. It also gives Katniss and Haymitch a bit of space to sneak out to the comfort of the woods for a bit. They make sure to come back before Effie catches them. She comes back to help Katniss get ready, she's teary eyed. Haymitch too, when he sees Katniss coming down the stairs. She looks soft, beautiful.

Effie leaves with Peeta, 10 minutes before them. Haymitch is in charge of getting Katniss to the justice building, that's when she asks him to give her away. And he does. The whole thing is perfect.

After an evening of partying, they bid their farewells. And go to have their private toasting. Peeta and Katniss want this part to be just theirs.

It's winter so at Effie's and Haymitch's the fire is roaring too. And she gets... curious; she's never been privy to that part of twelve customs so Haymitch takes the hands on approach and shows her how it's done. Effie understands what he's doing halfway through, Haymitch can see the recognition in her eyes. The slight stopping, the widening and surprise in her gaze. But she lets him go on, doesn't stop him even when he leaves enough space for her to make a run for it during the last part. He says wife, she says husband and she kisses him with all her fervor. All the love she has for him, all the love she's kept from him during their time as escort and victor.

She still makes him promise they'll have a proper party after a year.

They don't tell the kids what they've done tho. That ceremony is only theirs too.

[catindabag]

What happens when crazy old lady Lucy Gray and Katniss meet each other will they have some kind of singing of test like the rainbow songbird vs the mockingjay and in the zoo is there at least one rabid raccoon squirrel hybrid living there now

Oh, Panem, Horn of Plenty! Katniss “Nepo Baby” Everdeen will literally bow down before Lucy Gray and her grumpy husband, Panini Panlo when D12’s local ✨girl on fire✨ finally meets them in person.

Also, Panini Panlo will probably scold Katniss for stealing her little sister’s only opportunity to compete in Panemvision. #justice4Prim #primcansingbetterthantheswamppotato #antivolunteer #fightforbuttercuprights

At least poor Peeta can finally learn how to bake “real” bread from Peepaw Pan Pan and crazy old lady Sheaf the Chief.

As for the rabid raccoons and feral squirrels, they’re still the sacred creatures of the Capitol (and all of Panem after Felix Ravinstill became the “regent” President). So by law, it’s illegal to cage, hunt, and/or kill them no matter what they do to you or your family. Moreover, the rabid raccoons are also being protected by the Ravinstill Capitol Act 7070.

However, R.C.A 7070 does not apply to those who officially identify themselves as wannabe “werewolves” (Nero Price and Brandy) because of the ongoing controversial feud between the two groups.

Lastly, as for the Capitol Zoo, it’s now fixed and running like a real “functioning” zoo since Gaius Breen became the head of his family.

And as long as you ignore the ✨Bichon Frisé Puppy Paradise Enclosure✨, it’s totally worth your time and money.😉

[whodancy]

Yours & Mine by Whodancy

(Haymitch Abernathy/Effie Trinket)

‘Just as Peeta and Katniss had the chance to grow together, as fate may have it, Haymitch and Effie will too’

Post-Mockingjay Hayffie! 😼😼 Please check it out!

Chapter 1 Out now!!

[fyreflys]

*cackles evilly* I’m mean. I’m wicked. I like to torture my readers.

[Snippet from CH4 of Swan Upon Leda (out now- linked in my pinned) and a snippet from my CH5 draft]

[cardansletter]

look, i love post-mj fics as much as the next girl but where the fuck are the first games fics ??? i wanna read about katniss being hopelessly oblivious while peeta keeps publicly declaring his love for her in the middle of a televised bloodbath. i want more angst about him finding out it was all a lie and moreover, i want more fics about katniss realizing oh shit, it wasn’t all a lie. give me all the fics about the 74th games. we need more of them.

[brisingr-sword]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Hunger Games (Movies), Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Haymitch Abernathy & Katniss Everdeen & Peeta Mellark, Haymitch Abernathy & Katniss Everdeen, Haymitch Abernathy & Peeta Mellark, Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark Characters: Haymitch Abernathy, Peeta Mellark, Katniss Everdeen, Effie Trinket (mentioned), Haymitch Abernathy's Geese Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Haymitch Abernathy Needs a Hug, Drunk Haymitch Abernathy, Caring Haymitch Abernathy, Mentor Haymitch Abernathy, Whump, Haymitch Abernathy Whump, Minor Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark, Peeta Mellark Needs a Hug, Katniss Everdeen Needs a Hug, District 12 (Hunger Games), District Twelve Trio as Family, Found Family, Caring Katniss Everdeen, Caring Peeta Mellark, Animals, Animal Death, sorry guys i hurt some of the geese, its for an excuse to hurt haymitch though, Medical Inaccuracies, probably, Chronic Pain, Haymitch Abernathy Has Chronic Pain, Emotional Hurt, Fluff, this is definitely one of my more fluffier ones, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcohol, Post-Canon, Post-Series, no beta we die like finnick, Happy Ending, Haymitch Abernathy Sleeps With a Knife Series: Part 6 of Whumpuary 2024 Summary:

What it says on the tin. Except we've also got Katniss and Peeta being neighborly, Haymitch being angry and bitchy but also trying not to be for once, and the District Twelve Trio finding some healing in the family they've built.

Whumpuary 2024 Days 11-12 Exhaustion | Blindfolded | Old Injuries

[endlessnightlock]

Thank you for taking prompts ☺️🥳

How about a story with Buttercup and Peeta baking together? Or any bonding time really. Fun times!

For my friend @buttercupeatscheesebuns 🤗

Thank you so much 🙏❤️

@dandelionlovesyou thank you! I hope you and @buttercupeatscheesebuns both like it. I wrote this quickly (best way to do a drabble!) so excuse any errors

Standing at the kitchen sink as I wash my hands, gazing out the window at Haymitch's place, I realize I'm no longer alone in the kitchen. There’s a ticklish brush against my ankle, all fine bones and silky fur, a long tail curling around my foot. Buttercup has proven to be as silent as Katniss. Unless that cat wants you to know he's there, you don't.

"Morning, buddy," I greet, my voice a low hush to keep from waking Katniss. She's still dozing in the living room. She and I were up late last night and ended up falling asleep together on the couch. I woke before her, and instead of going home like I thought about doing, I decided I'd get up and make breakfast for us instead.

I'm full of nervous energy as I retrieve ingredients from the cabinet over my head, thoughts and feelings running wild as I complete the simple task of gathering flour and baking powder, sugar, and salt and setting them next to the mixing bowl. I'll make us pancakes since Katniss doesn't keep yeast in her kitchen. I'll have to bring her some of mine and put it in the refrigerator if I decide to do any baking over here.

Out in the living room, I hear Katniss stirring on the couch. I keep my face averted, my stomach fluttering with nerves at the thought of facing her this morning. She asked me to stay, and I can't quite settle on how sleeping with her last night leaves me feeling today.

All the while, Buttercup loops between my legs, rubbing his face against my intact leg. I know he's trying to get my attention. When he nibbles on my ankle, I flinch. It doesn't hurt; I'm jumpy, thus the cooking. Preparing food is a surefire way to settle my nerves. "That's not very nice," I scold that cat when he meows plaintively at me.

"Who isn't?" Katniss asks, yawning as she walks into the kitchen, shooting me a sleepy smile. It does something to me; that smile, it settles my nerves a little. She's not upset I'm here, and I'm not upset I'm here either. So it must be okay.

"The cat," I say, catching myself from calling Buttercup her cat. We both know he was Prim's cat, not hers.

"He's an asshole," Katniss agrees, and I laugh.

"I wasn't going to go that far."

She pulls out a stool at the counter and sits, gratefully accepting the mug of tea I fix her. "Suit yourself," she says, lifting the rim of the cup to her lips, pausing before taking her first sip, "he likes you better than me."

"Maybe," I murmur, rubbing his side with my foot. Buttercup purrs contentedly, a low vibration against the sole of my foot. Katniss never pets him. She does feed him raw meat, though, so it's hard to say for sure.

[vasilissadragomir]

Us Among the Living Chapter 15 out now on ao3!

CONTENT WARNING: non-graphic mention of sexual violence.

i hope y'all enjoy this chapter. it's one that's meant so much to me to write.

also, if you haven't checked out thgcommentfeast yet, stories are now ready to view! i've read a ton of them so far, and i've found some of my new favorite fics set within catching fire. so if you enjoy stories set between the 74th and 75th hunger games, this is your opportunity to show some amazing fic writers some love :)

my one-shot submission, Dusk, is up as well if you want to check it out. it's my first Peeta's POV, and, as it is canon compliant, it can be read as part of the Us Among the Living universe. i hope y'all enjoy <3

[realmermaid333]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark Characters: Peeta Mellark, Katniss Everdeen Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Peeta Mellark Needs a Hug, Fluff, Post-Book 3: Mockingjay Summary:

Peeta has a PTSD attack in the kitchen.

[notafraidtodissapear]

i literally hate whenever im trying to read a cutie little ao3 fan fic about katniss and peeta post-mockingjay AND THEY KISS (or do ANYTHING pretty romantic) IN THE FIRST CHAPTER OR TWO!!!!! like..... katniss' first thought when she gets back to twelve is not going to be "aw prim is dead... ig i should start thinking abt peeta with his shirt off!!!" like COME ON i understand not being a good at plot and stuff.... but if u want to write a fic abt them being in love starting in the first chapter, THEN PLS DONT DO IT WHEN KATNISS/PEETA FIRST GETS BACK TO TWELVE!!! like give my poor babies some time to grieve :((