thatismahogany - Tumblr blog

[thatismahogany]

GOTG 3. Just. go see it.

[thatismahogany]

right guys I know I haven't been online for ages but Ive got the opposite of writers block. I have so much motivation and no ideas.

PLEASE REQUEST SOMETHING

[thatismahogany]

GUYS. I NEED YOUR HELP

so I found this really cool black phone fic on here and I forgot to like it and now I can't find it!

Last time I checked, it had about six parts and was about finney's time with the grabber.

PLEASE help this is annoying me.

[thatismahogany]

now taking reqs for pjo!

[thatismahogany]

My, My, Miss American Pie

Jonathan Byers x GN!Reader (angst, with fluff at the end)

dedicated to my lovely friend @axle2929 enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bell rings. I see him rush out the door with his bags and book still in hand. How does he do that so quickly?

I try to do the same, try to flee down the corridors and catch up with him. I jog through the hustle and bustle of people, but even with my pace I can't speed up with the rate he's walking at.

Jonathan-freaking-Byers. My best friend since toddler-hood. When his dad freaked out and left, I was there for him. When my aunt drove herself into a tree, he was there for me.

Jonathan and ____. Him and them. We were never seen without eachother.

Until about three weeks ago.

From what I can understand, Jonathan's sweet younger brother, Will, went missing. They pronounced him presumably dead a few days ago and stopped the search party.

Jon has been a mess, and that's an understatement. I can speak to him at home anymore because he doesn't pick up the phone.

I can't speak to him at school anymore because he's always in a rush to get away from me.

"Jon-" I say, loudly as I trail behind him. Trying to get his attention clearly doesn't work, because he keeps pushing forward through the slowly clearing crowd of highschoolers. I resolve to try harder, so I yank him by the bag and shove him into a locker before he can respond.

I didn't shove him too hard, but the look on his face is astonished anyway.

"What was that for?" he asks, very angrily.

"You're avoiding me."

"I am not-!" he raises his voice slightly, but people around us turn their head anyway.

"I am not avoiding you." he whispers.

"Yes, you are! You hardly talk to me anymore. I wanna know why, I wanna know why you can't trust me with how you feel. I'm your best friend, Jonathan. I want to help you."

"I don't need your help. There's nothing wrong with me." he goes to move away from the locker, but I grab his arm and hold him in place.

"I know that it hurts, okay? I've been there too! I know what it's like to feel like nobody is listening to you, like nobody will help. But I'm here for you, Jonathan."

"I know you're here for me, but I-"

"Don't give me the 'I'm fine' bullshit. I know you aren't. Just talk to me."

He furrows his eyebrows, before ripping his arm from my grasp.

"If I wanted to talk to you, I would've done it days ago."

I reel back, like I've been struck.

What was that?

I look away at him, traversing through the crowd again as if nothing happened. He acts as if nothing happened. He acts as if what he's doing to himself is okay. Like what he's doing to us is okay.

I've never thought of me and Jonathan as more than friends, but our family always used to tease us that we were bound to be married someday.

Even still, I care about him more than anyone. He means the world to me. I won't let him destroy himself. I can't.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I rap the Byers' frontdoor quite loudly, hoping that if anyone is in, they'll hear me over a TV or something. I hold a very warm plate of cherry pie in my left arm, with my right hanging freely by my side.

The cherry pie was made as a peace offering. Its a crappy recipe, gotten over five minutes from the bakery downton. I still hope that it'll suffice, though. Everybody loves cherry. But Jonathan isn't everybody.

Well, what does it matter?

I wait for about five minutes before I knock the door again, louder and longer. I wait another few moments before I angrily shout Jon's name at it.

When again, nothing happens, I hastily try the doorknob.

The door swings open, revealing the living room that I've spent more time in than my own house. My eyes widen, as I clearly didn't expect that to work.

I'm lucky it did, though.

I walk through the house, searching for any sign of intelligent life. It looks... Heavily lived in, to say the least. The house isn't untidy, not by any standards, but it's not the cleanest.

I walk to the very back of the bungalow, until I hear faint music in one of the rooms: it's Will's room. Faint hope strikes inside of me, before going just as quick as it came.

I set the pie down on the table in the hall, and walk closer. 'The Clash' rings in my ears, and it clicks that it's Jonathan in the bedroom, not Will.

I knock on the door. Once, twice, three times, before it finally opens and I see a messy haired and red-eyed Jon.

"How... How did you get in here?" he asks.

"Door was unlocked."

"Oh."

We stand there for a few moments, the awkwardness filling the room. I study his face. He looks so tired, so upset and exhausted. I do badly want to hug him, to touch him and make him feel safe. But something deep sindie me recognises that nothing I can do will make him feel okay. Perhaps nothing ever will. Instead, I apologise.

"I'm so sorry, Jonathan."

"Its not your fault. You were worried about me-"

"No. It wasn't right for me to put you on the spot like that. You're going through a lot right now, that wasn't fair on you."

I reach forward slightly, my fingertips brushing his. For a moment, I feel something spark between us, but I ignore it. He nods in acceptance, and turns his back to sit on Will's small bed. I follow suit.

We sit on the edge of the bed in silence for a few minutes. We don't dare say anything, fearful that the comforting quiet will be broken, and we will be thrust into harsh noise evermore.

He is the first to break the silence.

"Do you think he knows?" he says. I look at him, confused.

"Do you think he knows that we love him?"

I bite my lip, the sadness on his face igniting my own.

"Yes." I say softly, almost a whisper, as I touch his hair, the strands feather-light under my fingers. After a few moments, his face breaks and my heart shatters.

As he starts to cry, I hold him in my arms, as wrecking sobs tear through his body and he holds onto me like an anchor.

After what feels like decades, he let's go of my and falls down onto the bed. I fall down beside him.

"I just miss him so much."

"I know, sweetheart. I know."

"You know, I always thought that after dad left-

I thought that nothing could hurt as much as that. But this hurts so fucking bad. It's like, somebody is jumping into my chest and ripping out my heart." as he empties all of his thoughts to me, I lie beside him.

"I can't do this. I can't. I don't know how to live without him."

I might just cry then and there. But I don't. Right now, I have to be the strong one.

I take his hands and pull him up to sit on the bed and look dead straight into his eyes, taking his face in my palm.

"Listen to me. I know it feels like your whole world is ending. I know it feels like nothing is going to get better, like you're never going to be happy again. But that isn't true, Jonathan. You'll always love Will, and you'll always miss him. It'll always be hard, but you can get past this. It doesn't have to be right now, it doesn't even have to be in the next twenty years, but you can live without him. It'll suck, and you won't wanna do it: but you can be happy again. Come hell or high water, I will do anything in my power to make sure that you're happy again. Do you understand me?"

"I-"

"Yes or no. Do you understand me?" I smile at him, letting him know that despite my brash words, I mean it in the best way possible.

"Yeah. I do."

I still look into his eyes, seeing all the browns and oranges and the pain and the joy and just him, just Jonathan.

And it hits me, right there, in his missing brother's bedroom that when people said we were inseparable, they meant it. I was always Jonathan's, and he was always mine.

Without thinking, I grab his face and pull it towards mine. We stay there for a few seconds, the 'kiss' very steely and stiff. It's clear from the get-go that neither of us have done this before.

Although, it very quickly warms up as we embrace longer. But we are human, so we break away for air and press our foreheads together. It's nice, this way.

I don't want to disturb this, but I have to.

"So... I've got a cherry pie outside that's getting cold. You want some?"

He laughs.

"Everybody loves cherry."

[thatismahogany]

I edited Conversations With Friends! I made it longer and even added a mitski reference. In the meantime, I'm working on a multiple-part fic and a few one shots. The fic will not be an x reader, but I'm sticking to that format with my one shots. stay tuned

[thatismahogany]

Why Don't You Stay?

In which Anakin's sibling struggles to comprehend the aftermath of his turn.

(this one is long I'm warning you. The ending is kinda cheesy but I like it. Lmk if you want a part 2)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Padme's agonised screams and shrills echoe through the halls. They are the only thing grounding me, as I sit on a cold chair outside her room. Obi-Wan Kenobi sits opposite me, with Yoda a few metres away.

As of this moment, everyone I love is dead. I only know three things.

My brother was Anakin Skywalker.

Anakin Skywalker is no more.

The Grand Republic has fallen.

How did we become of this, I ask myself. How did such a powerful and stoic influence in the galaxy reduce to mere nothingness after a few hours?

We all know the answer, yet we don't dare say anything: admitting what we don't want to believe will ruin us.

I bring my hands to my knees, bracing myself as if to suddenly stand up and make myself useful. I don't. There is nothing we can do. It is almost inevitable that Padme will die; I understand that it's ironic.

In his haste to save her, Vader was her ultimate downfall. Vader was everyone's downfall. I cringe sadly at the memory of seeing the hologram that saw my brother, kindhearted yet tortured Anakin turn into the ruthless Sith Lord.

A few minutes ago, (although, it seems like hours) Obi-Wan relayed the story of what happened on Mustafar to me. I didn't say anything afterwards, nor did he. We're all to exhausted to strike up a conversation. Even our expressions speak volumes.

Yoda, calm and calculating, never letting his fear or anger overcome him.

Obi-Wan, ever the peacemaker, putting peace before war every single godamn time.

And me, as I can guess, I sit there with a torn face, looking and feeling like my whole world has collapsed in on itself.

In a way, it has.

I would give anything to hold him again. For one more conversation, one last shred of hope that he will come back to me.

And then, I realise. If his one true love, if his own wife wasn't enough, why should I be? I think about what I could've done differently, what I should've said.

I should've told him I loved him.

It hits me suddenly, that he's gone. I will most likely never see him again. My Ani, who only ever wanted the best for his blood, is dust.

I break down, right then and there, with only two people left to comfort me. I wonder if they're capable of comforting anymore.

Obi-Wan consoles me as I rid my body of all the tears it can hold, feeling like my heart is being torn from my chest. Wrecked sobs rip through my body, and through it all, Obi-Wan is there. A beacon of hope, encapsulating hope in every aspect. I have no more room for hope.

Finally, I bring myself to speak. I tell him that I'm sorry, I tell him that I could've done more.

Yoda tells me that there was nothing to be done. Anakin had made his choice, and now we must make ours. Obi-Wan, although hesitantly, agrees. I immediately conclude that they both mean to seek refuge from their previous lives as soon as the child is born.

We sit there, in silence once again, the only sound is Padme screaming. Each of us finally understand that this is our life now. Destined to run from who we are for all our eternity. I feel hollow, I feel nothing. I hate this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a few hours, a doctor comes outside to greet us. She has vibrant purple skin, and I find myself distracted by the distinct and almost ethereal patterns decorating her face. Even still, nothing prepares me for what she says next.

"I think it will be best if you say your goodbyes now."

It is only then that the panic begins to set in, fogging my vision and clouding my thoughts. Instinct takes over intuition, and I shoot up from my seat. This is all happening so fast, too fast. I can't lose her too. Her kid can't lose her. If she dies, I will be the only one left. I can't handle that.

I bound into the room, ready to boss whoever it is I need to boss around to keep Padme alive. I go to her bedside, and I see the look of pure exhaustion on her pale face. I know that whatever I do, she cannot be saved. I have to let her go.

I keep my eyes to hers, briefly hearing Yoda and Obi-Wan converse quietly about "never expected twins". I don't care.

I try to say something to her, but she beats me to it.

"It's okay. Let him go." she croaks.

I inhale and exhale shakily, and I stroke her hair, withered with childbirth. Although on her deathbed, she looks as beautiful as ever. I smile weakly. I understand that this is the last time I'll see her. I hug her, quickly and tightly, then before I can break down again, I retreat from the room.

I never did tell her that she was right. I didn't reassure her that I would be okay, because the truth was, none of us knew that. She had more hope in one sentence than I ever had in nineteen years.

We all feel her slip away. Then we hear the child, or rather, children- cry. They call out for their mother, their father, for anyone. I know that I should do something but I can't bring myself to.

Instead, Obi-Wan rushes to one of their sides, and Yoda to the other. They hold and sooth them, trying to imitate a mother as best as possible.

They do it for some time, until both of the children cease their cries. I wouldn't find out until they were adolescents that their names were Luke and Leia. Spitting images of their mother and father.

Finding the last resolve within me, I heave myself up from that godforsaken chair and gather my things. I can't stay here. Every single moment I remain, only serves as a painful reminder of what I'll never have back. But I know I can't leave without saying goodbye. I owe them that much.

I go over to the cribs, one yellow and one purple. Little Luke is asleep in the purple crib, yet Obi-Wan still sits nearby with an awake Leia.

I kiss Luke on the head, silently promising that I'll see him again one day.

I glide over to Leia and Obi, keeping my composure as best I can. He sits in a chair and cradles her.

"Do you want to see her?" he asks.

"I can't." I say, wishing I hadn't. I wish so badly to hold her.

"If I look, I'll never let her go." we both laugh, wetly. There's a hint of sarcasm in my voice, but most of it is true. If I hold onto the last bit of Anakin, I will never let him go.

"Promise me you'll look after them, Obi. You will guard them with your life. If they ever get hurt, you will heal them. If they are ever in danger, you run miles away from it and don't stop. You won't let anything happen to them, you understand?"

He nods. I wipe my eyes, tears pricking at them. I kiss her on the head too, and walk out the door.

I take my ship, and I go to the nearest planet in the Outer Rim. The desert planet Tatooine.

I never expect to see any of my old comrades again, and I certainly never hope to.

But when I see Obi-Wan again, ten years after our last conversation, at a market.

I pay for his food, and he thanks me, albeit silently.

I bid him farewell, and I go back to my small cave. My life is a sad one, but I am content in being alone. Luke is safe, Leia is safe, Ben is safe. I hope Anakin is safe. Even if he's constructing a weapon that will obliterate all life, I still hope he's safe.

We don't speak, there is nothing to be said. I know that he takes care of them, I always knew. In the back of my mind, I wondered if they would be better in someone else's care, but Ben's look is enough.

Then, a rough 6 years later, is when I formally meet my niece and nephew. It is on a Rebel ship. When they ask me my name, I tell them the closest thing to it. It's not believable, barely so, but they don't think anything of it.

I ache to tell them of their lineage, of their father, and the twin they see beside them everyday but they are so blind to. It is a pain, deep in my chest, knowing that with my current age, I'll leave this life without ever seeing them embrace as brother and sister.

Until, they find out without me. They find eachother. I am happy for it, happy that they have what we had. Happy, if only the melancholia deep within my soul didn't envy them for what they will have for years to come. For what they will get that we didn't have the chance to.

So, when the time comes, I let go. When we find old Vader on that drasted second Death Star, when he removes his mask, and his son begs him to leave with us. I tell him, "No, Luke. It's okay. Let him go."

We leave the ship. I leave him behind. I let go.

When the funeral comes around, Luke and I are the only ones to attend. Han never had a connection. Leia, for all her faults, couldn't care less. I don't blame her.

As the fire roars and the flames burn his face, I almost laugh. The thing to bring Vader up was the very thing that brought him down.

When it ceases, I touch his face. Withered with pain, anger, fear, loss.

As we go back to the party, I feel him behind me. I don't turn around. I keep on walking, keep moving forward. As I said to a friend, many years ago, if I look, I will never let him go.

[thatismahogany]

okay but what do you guys wanna see from me, im interested it writing for the following fandoms

MCU

Star Wars

The Maze Runner

Evelyn Hugo (will only write f!reader for Celia/m!reader for Harry)

The Hunger Games

XMCU

The Kingsman Films

(I'll mostly write Platonic but if you wanna do it romantic I'll be happy to)

[thatismahogany]

GUYS. READ MY FIC PLEASE.

[thatismahogany]

Conversations With Friends

Thor Odinson x Reader (Platonic)

After the incident with Zeus, Thor finds himself thinking about his family. A certain person wants to fix that. SPOILER FREE FOR TLAT!

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I walk out onto the deck of Asgard Tours, escaping the smell of Val and her mead. I'm absolutely exhausted after that incident with Zeus and his goons: Jane could see it on my face, with the way I was rubbing my face like there was a permanent itch on it.

I notice Thor, standing at the starboard side of the ship. He's looking at the Bifrost-Dolphin-Hybrids staring unfocusedly into space. We're all a little worried about him, what with losing all of his friends and family. And on top of that, he doesn't even have his planet anymore.

I move to join him, my boots click-clacking on the soft wood of the ship. As my presence is made known, he turns to face me, a small frown being replaced with a hesitant smile.

"Hello, little one."

I cringe at the name, instantly remarking that I'm not a teenager anymore. He may be 1500 years old, but nobody else is. Or, maybe Valkyrie is.

"Ah, but you'll always be little to me." He chuckles, and I smile back at him; knowing what has to come next.

"Thor."

"Yes?"

"We're gonna talk about it."

"Talk about what? I'm fine! We're fine, everybody's good. What is there to talk about?"

I immediately notice what he's trying to do. In all the years I've known him, Thor has a habit of not confronting his problems until the last minute. Not that he'd ever admit it, though.

"Are you okay?"

His smile falters, but he's quick to fix it.

"I'm fine, promise. What is it you Midguardians say? 'Cross my heart and hope to die'? I don't know why anyone would hope to die, but I must say, Midguardian culture is a new subject for me-"

"Thor."

I look at him, and when he looks back, I see something in his eyes. He knows, just as much as I do, the importance of what I'm going to say next.

"You miss him, don't you?"

"Who?"

"Loki."

He looks like a kicked puppy, his lips quivering and my heart shattering.

"Every single day."

I cock my head to the side, thinking.

He's been through so much, lost everything. In a way, Thor and I are alike. I didn't have any idea who I was after I lost my family, and I never thought I could get better. Yet now, I have something to do again. I can finally help innocent people, I can do what I love with people I trust.

"How do you do it?"

I'm snapped out of my haze, looking at him confusedly.

"Do what?"

"All of.... This." he gestures around him, obviously not noticing my confusion.

"Thor, I-"

"How can you live without them?"

The breath is knocked out of me, and I see tears brimming in his eyes. I turn my face back toward the direction of the dolphins, pursing my lips as I think of what to say next.

I don't know what I can say, I don't know how I can make him feel better. After my parents died, after my brother left, I was left broken. Yes, I got better, but it took my weeks to just get outside again, and here he is. Fighting a monster he doesn't know he can beat. I say only my truths, I say only what I truly understand.

"It gets easier, after a while. That pain, that ache... It never goes away. But after some time, you find purpose in yourself again. You find the will to go shopping, to go to work, to fix yourself. You live the life they would've wanted you to live. Otherwise, what's the point of their sacrifice?"

I know my words don't mean anything to him, but there's that dull hope inside me that they do.

He doesn't look at me, not yet, but there's that look that I understand he's taken in what I've said.

"You know, throughout all our fights, all our bitter squabbles, I could never find it in myself to hurt him. Not truly, anyway. We would always find our way back to eachother."

"I know that feeling. After my brother did...

After he killed all those innocent people, after he betrayed me-

I could never hate him. He's my family. I loved him, so, so much. We laughed together, we cried together. He was my best friend, my confidante. In a way, he'll always be my brother."

He turns his head to face me, a tear very briefly rolling across his face.

"But I can't forgive him. What he did to me, I will never ever forget. It's okay to miss your family, but you can't hold onto them because of what they were. It's what they do now that matters, what they make of themselves in the present. My brother was my best friend, but I'm fine with... not seeing him again. That part of my life is finished now. I've moved on."

"What was it like? What was... he, like?"

"He was wonderful. When he was in your life, it felt like everything was okay. Even if you were sitting in a corner, taking up space, when he walked in... You were loved. He just made everything ten times better. That's why when he left, it hurt ten times harder."

He blinks profusely, not understanding what I mean. Before I can elaborate, he says something I didn't expect.

"I never had that with Loki. Even after our battles together, our studies, I was never crushed when he left. He wasn't heartbroken when I first fell to Earth. But he was my brother, even if he was always out to get me. We were raised together, on Asgard, as brothers. That was all I could ever ask for, I think."

I smile wetly, feeling a lone tear roll down my cheek. I quickly wipe it away, and respond.

"That's what it's like. No matter what you do, no matter what they do to you, you will always be family. I just can't bring myself to call him my best friend anymore. I've found my best friends, I've found the people I want to spend the rest of my life with."

I look over my shoulder toward Korg and Val, laughing about something over a pint. I think of what we've been through together, from Sakaar to Wakanda and even to New York. We've laughed together, we've cried together. They're my best friends, my confidantes. I don't know what I'd do without them.

"In the end, you have to do what makes you happy."

"Have you done that?"

"Yes."

He smiles softly, and moves to walk away, back into the ship. He stops, briefly, before turning to face me again.

"Thank you, little one. You're a brave person, and your I'm proud to call you my friend."

And for once, I don't cringe at the nickname.

[thatismahogany]

All My Love, Katniss.

when there's a hole in your soul, how do you fix it?

Dear Prim.

Hello, little duck. I haven't written to you in awhile, I'm sorry about that. Life here is busy, to say the least. With trying to rebuild the Government, the country, and even our lives, I barely have time to breathe. During the war, I liked having things to do, but now, I can barely walk without someone calling my name.

I miss being Katniss. Just Katniss. Not the Girl on Fire, not the Mockingjay. Before the Reaping, when I was just your sister, things were simpler. Gale and I would hunt, you would tend to Lady, and that was that. And now, with everybody I know either fractured or gone, I find myself in a state of limbo.

I'm trying to help everyone else, but sometimes I find myself struggling to get out of bed in the mornings. Haymitch is there, he helps. But what can he do? I speak to Effie, sometimes. She's busy in the Capital, doing whatever Effie does.

Peeta has probably been the biggest help. I know that he is struggling too. We all are, to be honest. We all miss people, people we've lost, but we've also found new people. Things to hold onto. I wish I could say Mom, but I can't remember the last time we properly spoke. I think I was only holding onto her for your sake.

I miss you so much. I bet you didn't even know how much I loved you, how much I adored you: everyone did. Little Primrose Everdeen, never wronged a soul. I was the one people spoke about. I was the one that people never truly trusted, but they loved you. I can see why: even now, everyone still talks about you. It's a funny thing, I've thought about that moment, in the Capital. I was so angry: at Gale, at Coin, but most of all myself. I couldn't save you. I promised all those years ago that I would always protect you, but in your time of need I wasn't there.

I find that I'm not angry about it anymore. It wasn't my fault, I realise now. While I am still working around my grief, I'm hopefully working towards something of a new life. A present, where I can go to sleep and no longer think of tomorrow: I can actually have one. I just wish I could've given that to you.

I miss you, little duck. And I love you, so, so much.

All my love,

Katniss.

(ps: just know, wherever you are, that i will always watch over you.)

[thatismahogany]

Their Bluish-Greenish-Brownish Color (drabble)

Pairings: Katniss Everdeen x Peeta Mellark

Characters: Katniss Everdeen, Peeta Mellark, Primrose Everdeen, Haymitch Abernathy (mentioned)

Warnings: Fluff, angst, like one cuss, also prim lives because im not ready to let her go!

First Post yayyyy

The soft chopping of onions and peppers and what sounded like leeks echoed through the kitchen of Katniss' house, and although she was stretched across the couch reading, she could still hear Prim scribbling away in her medical book and Peeta throwing the vegetables in the simmering pan on the stove.

She threw the boring book down onto a cushion beside her, and sat up, with a yawn resting in her mouth. She resisted the urge to grab her sheath and bow to go out hunting, but the yearning for killing random animals had ceased, along with the end of the war.

She longed for her bed, but Dr Aurelis and Haymitch agreed that drowning her sorrows in sleep would do nothing to help her bouts of nightmare. Heck, even Haymitch was trying to stop his irreparable drinking.

Katniss knew, deep down, that they were right. She slept too much, as much as 15 hours a day, and each night, when she awoke sweating and her face tear-stained, the sleep that once again befalled her brought nothing but pain and hatred. Katniss thought that killing Coin would have brought her peace, something good to revel in during the times of terror, but with her mother abandoning them to Four, and Gale getting that high-end job in Two, all Katniss wanted to do was cry. And sleep.

But, alas, she couldn't. So she summoned the courage to jump off the couch and ventured into the sunlit kitchen, careful not to disturb her sister and friend in their activities.

She slid down into the chair beside Prim, lightly tapping her on the shoulder. Her sister jumped, spilling her ink all over her hand.

"Jesus, Katniss- What the hell!?"

Katniss weakly smiled at her sister's response.

"I missed you, little duck."

Prim furrowed her eyebrows, clearly annoyed at her sister's indifference.

"I'm going to my room."

Katniss' smile quickly faltered, as she called at her sister as Prim trudged up the steps in the hallway.

"Prim, come back! I'm sorry!"

Peeta, meanwhile, looked down at the pan of vegetables infront of him, failing horribly to mask his laughter. Although, once the girl behind him doubled over in laughter, he did the same. For a moment or too, they both laughed until their chests hurt.

When their laughter faded, and a comfortable silence existed between the two, Peeta turned to face Katniss, and she to him.

She slitted her eyes, and looked into his. She couldn't quite make out the color. It was a sort of mix of greens and blues and a little yellow round the edges, but she didn't mind. They were pretty. And they were Peeta's. Katniss thought anything of Peeta's was pretty.

She broke the silence between them, with a soft mumble.

"I like your eyes."

Peeta stood up straighter, a soft smile cascading across his face.

"Thanks. I like yours too."

And they sat there, for a while. Conversing about nothing, about everything, about Prim and Buttercup, about the war, about their lives before the war, and about how nothing would be quite the same again.

But they would be okay with that. Sometimes, change is for the best. And while they had eachother, nothing could go wrong.