Everlark Fanfiction - Tumblr Posts

She pulls him even tighter into her chest, she can feel the hard planes of his back spasming and shaking along with the rest of his body. Quick and shallow breaths slip through gritted teeth and between them, drawn out incantations of her name. All she can do is offer a tight, reassuring hug from behind, holding on for dear life, and comforting words in small whispers until his episode is over. 

The death grip on the back of the chair loosens as he comes back to reality, swapping shallow breaths with deep sobs that wrack his body from the centre of his chest. A sigh of relief escapes her as she recognises the tell tale signs of him returning. He slumps over and falls to the floor as his leg gives into the post-episode shakes; bringing her with him. They hit the floor with a thump, and she moves out from underneath him and shuffles as close to him as she dares. He moves his hands to his scarlet face as tears stream down staining his shirt but she grabs them before they can get there. Holding them, she brings them down to her waist and wraps hers around his shoulders. Pulling him close. The closeness lets her hear a muttered apology coming from him, but they both know there is nothing to be sorry for. She is the first to speak since the incident happened, quiet enough as to not shock him anymore than he already was.

"It's okay. It's okay. It's not real. It's. Not. Real. I'm not a mutt, you're not a mutt. You are Peeta Mellark. You are 22 years old. We're here, at home, in District 12. You survived two games and a rebellion. And you are surviving now.”

By the time she has finished, his sobs have been reduced to a few stray tears that slowly make their way down his face. He takes a deep but shaky breath out as the adrenaline slowly leaves his body. A look of shame crosses his face.

“I'm so sorry. I honestly thought I was getting better. It's been months since my last episode and something little must have just thrown me off I guess.”

She shakes her head; smiling slightly.

“It's okay, I promise you. You were doing so much better but this isn't the end. You're not starting right from the beginning, just, taking a step back. Healing isn't linear, we both know that, I still have my bad days and you have your episodes but we have to keep moving forward. If we don't then we will be back at the beginning and He wins. We both can’t let that happen. We've been through too much to let that happen”

He looks defeated, his usual half-smile after her semi-threatening pep talks isn't present.

“I’m so… drained. What are we even fighting for anymore, Katniss? I try to remember sometimes. That old conviction I had. I was so sure I’d never lose it.”

“Hard not to once you’ve fought the same battle as long as we have.”

She leans forward, touching their foreheads together.

“But we have to keep pushing. You once told me that you didn't want them to change you, giving in is letting that happen. You won't ever lose that hope, it's always there. You're my dandelion, my hope. If you lose that we both fall apart. And I can't let that happen. The battle to get here was long and hard and will keep on going until we win and we will win.” 

His expression doesn't change; not believing in what she’s saying 

“I'm not the same teenage boy who said these words to you that night though Katniss. I have changed from the games, from Snow. I'm not the same boy whose name was called at that reaping 6 years ago. I'm not the same boy who spent nights with you on the train or whose heart stopped trying to protect you in the arena. They have changed me.”

Her mouth tilts downward starting to form into her ever present scowl.

“Maybe your not the love struck boy who spoke to me for the first time on a train to our deaths or kept me up straight, night after night, on the victory tour but you are the boy who risked his life to save me in the sewers of the Capitol and stopped me from taking my life after I killed Coin. I'm not the same girl who volunteered for her sister or held onto you for dear life while I was paralysed from torturous jabberjays. Neither of us are exactly the same as we were all those years ago. But everyday since then, you have shown me how some things inside you are so intrinsically you. Your optimism, love, kindness, charisma and hope are all you and can never be changed.”

He finally smiles, and a sense of hope runs through him. Not this hope she says is always within him, but from her. A hope so intimate and specific he can only attribute it to her and how she always manages to bring it to him in his darkest hours.

“I’m so… drained. What are we even fighting for anymore, [X]? I try to remember sometimes. That old conviction I had. I was so sure I’d never lose it.”

“Hard not to once you’ve fought the same battle as long as we have.”

╰┈➤  𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬: 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧!

my drabble/one-shot requests are now open! here are my fandoms and guidelines!

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆ ⋄✧⋄ ⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆ ⋄✧⋄ ⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆ ⋄✧⋄ ⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ 

fandoms i write for:

the hunger games

the old guard

marvel (occasionally)

characters + ships i write for:

the hunger games - anyone, but everlark are my faves!

the old guard - literally any of the characters!

marvel (occasionally) - sam wilson, bucky barnes, sambucky, natasha romanoff, steve rogers, peter parker, the eternals!

these are the fandoms and characters i feel most comfortable writing, but I’d love to write for more fandoms like arcane, bbc’s merlin, the witcher, acotar etc! if you’d like to request a character that isn’t on this list just drop me an ask or leave a message in my inbox! 

what i like to write:

hurt/comfort (a personal fave)

angst (with a happy ending!!)

fluff!

whump

character studies

what i WON’T write:

dark!fics + non-con/dub-con

dd/lg relationships

incest

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆ ⋄✧⋄ ⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆ ⋄✧⋄ ⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆ ⋄✧⋄ ⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆

THE GHOSTS THAT HAUNT YOU .𖥔 ݁ ˖๋࣭ ⭑🌱🌲

Prompt: Katniss freaks and panics over a Peeta choking her flashback. Peeta himself puts the pieces of her back together. Much whomp ensues.

Word count: 1.5k

cw: panic attacks, flashbacks, trauma, angst (but there’s a happy ending!)

ᨒ↟↟ᨒ↟ᨒ↟↟ᨒ

“I’ve been called up to the Capitol.”

Katniss is sitting on a stool by the kitchen counter watching Peeta knead some fresh dough when the words leave his mouth.

Instantly, her gaze snaps up to Peeta's, all the air rushing straight out of her lungs. It feels like she’s taken a bullet to the stomach.

(Katniss would know about the latter. She’s been shot in the stomach before.)

A single tentative word leaves her.

“What?”                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    

“I got the news this morning. They said I’m due for a check up.” Peeta replies; patient and gentle with her, far too kind for Katniss’s rough edges and sharp demeanour. He's still busy with the dough, but his eyes drift over to where she is - concern nestled in the blue of his irises.

The girl sits with the news for a little. Letting herself think at first that maybe she’s misheard. That this is all some cruel and sick scenario her head has made up to scare her.

But then the information begins to churn inside of her, looping around her ribcage, tightening around her lungs until she feels like can't breathe anymore.

“Katniss?”

“You’re leaving?”

Peeta brushes his hands off on the apron before stepping over to her, crouching down so that they’re eye level.

“It would only be a few days, sweetheart. Just so they can check me out. Then I’ll be straight back.” His hand is steady when he tucks her hair behind her ear, but this is Peeta and Katniss knows him better than she knows herself. He’s a practiced liar, but by now it’s easy for her to pick up on the way his smile wobbles slightly as he speaks.

“I don’t like it any more than you do, “ the boy murmurs. “But I have to go.”

Katniss knows logically that he’s telling the truth. That Peeta Mellark dislikes the Capitol just as much as she does. That he would never go back willingly unless it was something serious. The fierce urge to protect stirs inside of her and Katniss finds herself realising that she hates the Capitol, but she hates the thought of Pesta going alone even more.

“Can I come with you?”

(Katniss’s pardon does not allow for trips back to the Capitol and they both know it, but it’s still worth a try)

Peeta’s posture droops a little, expression sinking when he shakes his head.

“They won’t let you. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I did ask.”

Just like that, it’s gone. The last sliver of hope left in her. Katniss feels herself deflate, a thousand thoughts rushing through her head at breakneck speed. Noticing her growing panic, Peeta squeezes her hand in his.

“I’m coming back to you, Katniss. I will always come back to you.”

What if they decide to keep him there? What if they take him away from me? What if he comes back different? What if he doesn't know me anymore?

This last thought is the loudest and cruelest of them all.

Because that’s what really scares her. Not the thought of being alone again. Not the thought of having to face a few days with only Haymitch and Buttercup for company.

The thing that frightens Katniss most of all is the thought of Peeta Mellark not knowing who she is when he comes back.

“Please don’t go.” She hates how broken and frightened her final plea sounds in her own ears

“I have to.” His hands move up to cup her face tenderly, fingers gentle on her jaw and neck, but Katniss finds herself flinching backwards sharply.

The memory hits her like a barrel.

“Are you coming then?” Haymitch sounds lighter than he has in days and Katniss herself can barely contain her giddy excitement as they hurry towards the room that Peeta is in.

They got him back. 

He’s back, he’s back, he’s back.

That’s the only thing in her mind. Peeta is back and safe with her and maybe he can help her start making sense of Coin and Thirteen and the rebellion.

Something warm and sweet pools in her chest alongside the nerves. Hope.

Peeta is already standing up when Katniss opens the door, and the first thing that she registers is how gaunt he looks. Like his time at the Capitol has taken everything out of him and left a carcass in its wake.

But he’s still Peeta. He’s still her Peeta. Blue eyes and blonde waves. Strong hands, dimples.

Katniss reaches out for him, arms open - ready to pull his close and not let go for a long time - and Peeta steps forward too. His hands come up to her face to brush his fingers against her cheeks. Katniss can’t stop the smile that she feels unfurling on her face.

But then something in his eyes changes, and Katniss is too slow to react.

His hands find her neck, heavy and tight and suddenly the girl on fire can’t breathe. She struggles and kicks against him, but Peeta doesn’t relent - his hands pressing against her throat so forcefully that red begins to seep into the corners of her vision.

Haymitch and Boggs are there in an instant, trying their best to pull Peeta off her but his hands feel like they’ve been welded to her skin. The boy looks like something wild, something feral, snarling and baring his teeth at the men as they try to pull him off.

Katniss Everdeen has fought to survive every single day for the past seventeen years. But right now, held in the mercy of the boy she loves, Katniss feels all the fight leave her. She is going to die here. At the hands of the boy the Capitol once called her star-crossed lover.

The last thing she remembers before her vision goes black is the tearstained whisper that leaves her lips.

“I forgive you.”

Then, nothing.

“Katniss? Katniss?”

When Peeta’s voice drags her out of the depths of the flashback, the first thing she notices is that his hands are no longer on her.

Peeta Mellark is kneeling in front of her, palms up to show that he means no harm, eyes wide and worried.

“You with me, sweetheart? Can I touch you?”

The questions barely registers in Katniss’s head as she avoids his gaze.

“What- what if you come back different, Peeta I…”

“Hey, hey.” The boy’s voice is sweet. Reassuring. And Katniss can tell that he’s doing his best to not come closer - fighting against his every instinct to pull her back into his arms.

“They’re not going to change me, honey. I’m still going to be me when I come back. They aren’t Snow or Coin, Katniss. They’re good people, I promise.”

But she can still feel the ghost of his hands clenching around her throat. The bruises have long since faded, but the memory of what the Capitol turned Peeta Mellark into has not.

(Katniss doesn’t know if it ever will.)

They could turn him against her easily. They’ve done it before and the thought of it happening again terrifies her. Angry eyes, screams and insults hurled in her direction by a boy who doesn't know who she is anymore. A boy who sees her as the enemy rather than as someone who loves him.

Panic rears its ugly head once again.

“What if they hurt you? Or- Or if they change you and you don’t recognise me anymore? Peeta I wouldn’t survive that, I wouldn't-”

Katniss’s breath begins to come out in short sharp gasps and her hands curl up in fists at her side - nails digging into her palms hard enough to draw blood. She can’t breathe, can't do anything apart from letting the fear roll over her in big, black waves that threaten to drown her.

“You’re working yourself up, my love. You have to breathe, okay? Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

The girl shakes her head, whimpering a little when her vision blurs with tears.

“You can, Katniss. I promise you can.” Peeta shuffles closer, careful to keep his hands were she can see them. “C’mon, Kat. deep breaths. You can do it.”

Slowly but surely, as she follows Peeta’s slow, exaggerated breaths, Katniss finds that the panic around her lungs loosens. She looks up at Peeta, his blue eyes finding hers ones instantly.

“Can I touch you?” The boy tries again.

Katniss nods and leans forward ever so slightly, then Peeta is scooping her off the chair and into his lap, wrapping his arms around her easily.

“I’m scared that they’ll make you forget me again.” Her teary words are muffled against his sweatshirt.

Peeta pulls away gently, a slight smile on his lips as he reaches out to tuck her hair behind her ear.

“They couldn’t make me forget you, sweetheart. Not in a million years.”

His comforting words don't stop, even when Katniss burrows back into him, nestling her head into the space under his chin.

“I’ll come back,” he says to Katniss, lips moving against the crown of her head as his hands slip under the back of her shirt to run across the scarred skin there that has never bothered him.

The residue of worry clings onto Katniss, but here, safe in Peeta’s embrace, she thinks she can handle it for a while.

Peeta’s arms tighten reassuringly around her.

“I promise. I’ll come back to you.”

 .𖥔 ݁ ˖๋࣭ ⭑🌱🌲

GIRL ON FIRE, UP IN FLAMES .𖥔 ݁ ˖๋࣭ ⭑🌱🌲

prompt: katniss is whipped instead of gale in cf au where everlark are already together and in love + i request something everlark and extremely whompy.

Word count: 1.8k

cw: violence, trauma, whipping, heavy angst but a hopeful ending, established everlark!

ᨒ↟↟ᨒ↟ᨒ↟↟ᨒ

When the Head Peacekeeper forces Katniss Everdeen’s wrists into iron clamps and pulls out a whip, the girl breathes deep, plants her knees firmly into the ground and braces herself for the impact.

There’s someone crying in the crowd behind her, a baby she thinks, wailing as soldiers clad in Capitol uniforms storm through Twelve, laying waste to whatever they find - their pristine white armour darkening with dust and blood as they do so.

Then, the whip makes first contact with her skin, and anything that isn’t pure agony flies straight out of Katniss’s head.

The pain is earth shattering.

Unlike anything Katniss has ever felt. Raw, engulfing, crude - she bites down on her lip hard enough to draw blood and holds back the sob building in her chest.

She will not give them the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

Three more lashes follow in quick succession, each one heavier than the last.

“Let this be a lesson to you all.” Thread’s voice is low and promises a violent punishment for anyone who defies him.

“We are the law. And the law will not be broken.”

The whip comes down on Katniss’s back again and it feels like lightning striking the earth. She bites back a cry when something warm and wet slides down her back, sticking to her shirt as her skin tears under the blunt force of the leather. Blood begins to weep out of her body then, thick and heavy, the onslaught becoming near unbearable as Thread brings the whip down on her back over and over again.

As the whip cleaves her back to shreds, Katniss Everdeen clings on to her consciousness like it’s all she has left. Bares her teeth at it and dares it to leave her.

Then, a voice breaks through the pain - sunlight filtering through clouds in the midst of a storm. Peeta.

“Hey, hey! STOP!”  Katniss can hear him getting louder, more desperate, as he rushes towards them.

She wants to turn and yell at him to get back. To stay as far as possible from the people ripping Twelve to shreds, but the only thing that escapes her clamped lips is a low groan as the Threads whip makes contact with her skin once more.

Peeta’s words become choked and frantic when he hears it. “Stop, stop! You’ll kill her!”

There’s a scuffle and the sound of the whip hitting something else, someone else. Peeta stumbles backwards and into her eyeview, and the sight of his face - twisted in pain, bleeding - hurts far more than the whip. The boy gets back up steadily and Katniss sags against the post, unable to stop him.

“Want another?” Thread growls.

“Let her go.”

“Get out of my way. I won’t ask again.”

Peeta stands his ground.

“No.”

The stubbornness and open defiance that his voice carries makes Katniss feel sick.

“Peeta,” his name is a broken supplication on her lips. “You have to go. It’s not- It’s not worth it. Please-”

“I am not leaving you.”

She can almost hear the smile in Threads next words.

“Have it your way.”

The girl braces herself for the impact of a next blow that never comes.

Running footsteps echo through the square and from the corner of her eye Katniss sees Haymitch rushing towards them.

His hands are already raised in defence, voice breathless. “Woah, woah-”

Thread snarls - effectively cutting him off. 

“Get out of my way.”

“You don’t want to do this.” To anyone else, Haymitch might sound calm, almost warning. But Katniss knows him better than that, she can hear the desperation tinging her old mentors words.

“We caught her carrying illegal game through the district.”

“I never said she was smart,” Haymitch scoffs and his comment doesn’t sting as much as it usually would because Katniss knows that right now he’s doing anything he can to keep her safe.

“But the Capitol needs her alive. She’s one of last years Victors. Don’t you recognise her?” Haymith speaks clearly and concisely - loud enough that she can hear him over the blood rushing in her ears.

“You should be glad,” he continues, “that there aren’t any cameras on you right now. I doubt the citizens of the Capitol would like to see what you’ve done to their darling on the eve of the big wedding.”

Haymitch’s voice is cold and doesn’t allow for debate when he next speaks.

“Let. The girl. Go.”

What happens next is a blur.

Katniss is pretty sure that Threaf continues to speak, but she doesn’t hear the whip whistling through the air anymore, and her body sings with relief.

Peeta kneels beside her in the dirt - face tear streaked and pale as he struggles to free her hands from the iron clamping them to the sides of the post. She whimpers when at first the clamps don’t give and Peeta reaches out to cradle her face in his hands gently, pressing his lips against the crown of her head.

“Stay with me, Katniss,” The boy murmurs.  “We’re gonna get you out of here, just keep your eyes open for me. You’re okay.”

The girl doesn’t even have the strength to reply.

When her hands finally come loose, Katniss’s body sags against the post and she rocks forward, unbalanced - unable to stop the fall. Peeta’s arms are around her before she can hit the ground.

Then, she’s being moved, someone supplies a plank of wood and they shift her trembling body onto it. People crowd around, people she doesn’t even know, reaching out to help carry her away.

She must lose consciousness then because the next thing she knows, Katniss is being placed on the kitchen island in her house, Peeta and Haymitch right by her side.

Her mother and Prim are by her side instantaneously, working with a cohesion she’s never managed to achieve with either of them. When they start cutting the soaked shirt off her back, Katniss bites back a scream.

When something burning is poured over the open gashes on her back she begins to beg.

“Please stop- Please, PLEASE-“ She doesn’t know who she’s pleading with. All she knows is that the pain is relentless and she’s not sure how much longer she can bear it. Katniss Everdeen is a girl on fire, up in flames.

“Hold her still!”

Gentle fingers run through her hair as Peeta takes a seat next to her. “I know, I know. You’re okay, Katniss. You're okay.” He shushes her softly, brushing his thumb against her cheekbone as her mother’s voice rings out above.

“She needs morphling.”

The entire room sways in and out of focus, but the boy she loves stays clear and sharp in Katniss’s vision.

Peeta Mellark is the last thing Katniss sees before the darkness swallows her whole.

ᨒ↟↟ᨒ↟ᨒ↟↟ᨒ

When Katniss falls silent, her bloodied body going lax against the countertop as the morphling works its way through her system, Peeta Mellark breathes a sigh of relief.

It’s then, watching helplessly as Mrs Everdeen and Prim start making ointments and preparing bandages for Katniss’s back, that he knows he would take an eternity worth of lashes just to spare her from the pain splayed across her unconscious features.

(Her screams are still ringing out in his ears - it’s not something he’ll be able to forget for a long time.)

The remnants of Katniss’s bloodied shirt lie around her, and Peeta has to hold back the urge to vomit when he sees what was under them.

Katniss’s back is effectively shredded. A torn, mangled mess of open welts and bloodslick flesh.

Haymitch stands on the far side of the room, his head bowed. The man looks more exhausted than Peeta has ever seen him; shaken to the core as he watches Katniss through hooded eyes.

Prim on the other hand, is a picture of poise. Her hands are covered in blood, as are her mother’s - but the girl works diligently - calm and collected as her sister lies unconscious on the table.

They finish soon, and when they place the final bandages over Katniss’s back, Peeta finds himself releasing a long and shaky breath.

“We can only wait now.” Mrs Everdeen sounds tired and worn as she wipes a hand across her brow. She looks up at Peeta, smiling softly.

“We’ll give you two a moment.”

ᨒ↟↟ᨒ↟ᨒ↟↟ᨒ

Katniss wakes up hours later when Peeta takes her hand in his and begins to clean away the blood that’s run down her arm in rivulets with a damp cloth.

He slows his ministrations, watching as her storm grey eyes take in their surroundings.

“Hey, sweetheart. How are you feeling?”

Katniss winces, moving her head ever so slightly as to see him better.

“Hurts.”

Peeta nods, tries to not let the anguish festering  in his own chest display onto his face.

“Do you need anything?”

She shakes her head and Peeta squeezes her hand  softly when she starts to speak again.

“How could they do this, Peeta?” Her words are slow and struggle to make it out of her as she speaks - mouth stumbling around, heavy with morphling.

Peeta knows without a doubt that she’s not referring to the whipping she received - to the battered, maimed tapestry her back now is. There’s worry in her eyes but he doubts any of it is reserved for herself.

Katniss Everdeen isn't asking how the Capitol could do this to her.

She’s asking how it could do this to the citizens of Twelve.

“They want the Districts to stay in line. It’s a warning, I suppose.”

“This is my fault.” It’s a statement, but she says it like a question. Barely a whisper, as though a part of her is afraid of hearing the truth. Peeta shakes his head firmly.

“This is not your fault. None of this is your fault.”

He knows, logically, that what he’s saying is true, but the words in his mouth taste like a lie.  As acrid as nightlock berries and defiance.

Katniss’s lower lip wobbles ever so slightly as he speaks and Peeta realises that she hasn't shed a single tear throughout the entirety of this ordeal.

“You can let it out, sweetheart. It’s just us here.” He says it because he knows that Katniss likes to put on a brave face whenever she can. She’s strong, his girl, and a lot of the time, it makes him proud beyond belief, but sometimes all it does is worry him. He wants her to feel safe enough to show her true emotions when they’re together. 

Something like exhausted relief seeps into the girl’s weary features, as if she’s been waiting for permission. The thought alone makes him feel sick.

She sniffles a little, squeezing her eyes tight and biting her lip. But then the first sob breaks through and it’s like a dam has broken.

There is nothing quite as undoing as Katniss’s tears.

Harsh and pained and utterly defeated - probably blaming herself for what Thread did, despite Peeta’s reassurances that she’s not at fault.

And Peeta Mellark has never considered himself to be a revolutionary, but the tears that run down Katniss’s face make him want to rip the Capitol apart with his bare hands until there’s nothing but ash and dust left. Until Katniss is safe.

The next best thing he can do is be there for her, and that is what he does. In the darkening room, as the wind howls outside and the rest of the house sleeps, Peeta sits by Katniss’s side and presses his lips against her knuckles.

“We’re going to be okay, sweetheart.” He murmurs.

It’s a promise he intends to keep.

WE’LL FIND COMFORT BY THE LAKESIDE .𖥔 ݁ ˖๋࣭ ⭑🌱🌲

prompt: can we have a soft fluff everlark morning? i love the way you write their happy moments +  katniss + peeta + lake (bonus points for skinnydipping) love ur writing XD

Word count: 2k

cw: none i don’t think!

ᨒ↟↟ᨒ↟ᨒ↟↟ᨒ

The sound of Peeta Mellark’s soft humming is what wakes Katniss up.

Gentle and slow, a melody she doesn’t recognise but that sounds overwhelmingly like home.  

Her head is on his chest as his gentle hand cards through her hair, and Katniss wants to stay here forever so she keeps her eyes shut and her breaths steady.

But this is Peeta, and he knows her better than he knows herself. Sometimes she doesn’t know where she ends and he begins.

“Morning, Kat.”

Katniss shushes him swiftly; a quiet reprimand that has no real bite behind it, “We’re still sleeping.”

When she moves from his chest to look at him, Peeta is already smiling indulgently

“Oh, oh okay,” he brings a finger to his lips and nods along playfully. “I’ll be quiet.”

They stay there for a little longer, Katniss closes her eyes again and focuses on the way Peeta’s chest rises and falls slowly with each breath. Focuses on how calm and quiet and safe everything feels right now.

After a while though, the boy’s hand slips under her head carefully and moves her so she’s leaning on her pillow instead of his chest. He shifts away easily then, and Katniss whines a bit at the loss of contact, but she’s so warm where she is, so pliant in this cocoon that they’ve made for themselves that she can’t bring herself to be too mad about it.

“I’m going to make us breakfast, d’you want anything in particular?”

The girl shakes her head in response, “I’ll eat whatever you feed me. You know that.”

Peeta grins at her. “Pancakes?”

“Sounds lovely,” Katniss shoos him away then. “I’m going back to sleep.”

The boy raises his arms in mock defeat and walks to the doorway, but before Katniss can shut her eyes again he’s rushing back, smacking a kiss against her forehead, and her nose, and the shell of her ear like it’s for good measure. He carries on peppering kisses all over her face until she pushes him away gently.

“Peeta!”

“Okay, I’m going, sorry - I’m going!” but there's a smile in his words and Katniss can feel one forming on her face too because she adores Peeta when he’s like this with her - light and happy and endlessly gentle.

If someone had told her three years ago that this would be her life one day, the girl would have laughed them off, and there are still days in which she doesn’t know what she’s done to deserve the tender intimacy that their domestic life brings with it.

Katniss knows she knows she wouldn’t change it for the world.

ᨒ↟↟ᨒ↟ᨒ↟↟ᨒ

A while later, she shuffles sleepily into the kitchen to find him flipping pancakes.

A quick peck is placed on her hairline when she wraps her arms around his warm chest followed by a murmured, “Hey you.”

Summer sunshine filters through the half-open curtains, bathing Peeta in soft golden light. He looks beautiful like this, Katniss thinks. Beautiful and soft and kind and everything that Katniss is not.

(She has long resigned herself to the fact that she will never be as good as Peeta Mellark).

He gazes down at her, features relaxed and sweet, hand coming up to brush against her cheek.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “You okay?”

It’s a harmless question, but Katniss knows that it holds real concern because Peeta has always worried about her, and being out of the games, out of the war, hasn’t changed that at all.

These early morning checkups have become routine after years of waking up to nightmares and panic attacks. At first, Katniss had been diffident - unsure of how to reply, but now she answers with ease.

“I’m alright. You?”

Peeta smiles in return. “I’m okay. The pancakes are ready.”

They sit beside each other, eating in a comfortable silence until Katniss feels Peeta’s eyes on her.

“Do I have syrup on my face again?” she asks, suddenly self-conscious under his gentle gaze.

Her boy simply shakes his head and smiles as his hand moves forward to tuck her hair behind her ear.

“Just love you a lot,” he whispers.  

He says it like it’s the easiest thing he’s ever said; like loving her is the easiest thing he’s ever done. The proclamation rolling off his tongue as Katniss fights the urge to turn away so he can’t see the heat rising in her face.

Before she can reply, Peeta snorts softly, using his thumb to wipe a spot on her lip.

“You did have syrup on your face though.”

“Peeta!”

She swats at his arm with a gasp but the boy laughs and spins away before she can place a good hit. And then Katniss is smiling too, and everything feels okay.

Peeta comes closer then, pulling her against him, holding her face gently in his hands.

“I was thinking we could go to the lake later? Have lunch there? It’s nice this time of the year.”

“Are you asking me out on a date, Peeta Mellark?” Katniss teases him lightly but in her head she’s already said yes a thousand times.

“That depends,” he murmurs, pushing his nose against hers. “Will you come?”

Katniss nods, a smile tugging at her lips.

“Yes, Peeta, I’ll come.”

ᨒ↟↟ᨒ↟ᨒ↟↟ᨒ

That’s how she finds herself sitting on the banks of the lake later that day, her head resting in Peeta’s lap as the boy traces absentminded patterns on the palm of her hand. He’s talking to her about the renovations at the bakery and Katniss is just happy to listen whilst the sun rests in the sky languidly, casting a warm glow over the lake. Picnic food is spread out around them and Katniss is full and warm of bread and cheese and honey and fruit.

Peeta asks her something she hadn’t been expecting then, breaking through the peaceful bliss.

“Want to go for a swim?”

Katniss shoots him a glance as he nudges her up and stands, brushing himself off as he does so.

“We didn’t bring any swimwear.”

“So?”

And before Katniss can reply, Peeta Mellark starts to take his clothes off.

Katniss gapes as he strips down to his underwear. Neither boasting nor shy in his appearance. Peeta smiles in return.  

“C’mon, Katniss. It’ll be fun.”

“I think we have different ideas of what that word means.” Katniss snipes back, but she moves forward to sit on a rock by the water’s edge anyway as Peeta wades in.

When he’s chest deep in the lake, hands treading lazily by his sides, the boy looks up at her.

“Coming?”

“Don’t we have to wait for thirty minutes after eating?”

“That’s a myth.”

“Okay well the answer is still no.”

Katniss can’t believe it when Peeta pouts - actually pouts.

“Please?”

“Peeta I don’t- my body isn't exactly-” the girl gestures down at herself before looking back at Peeta’s lean muscle and chiselled angles.

The boy is practically perfect- gentle golden curls, perfect blue eyes framed by long eyelashes, a cute dimpled smile. It’s no surprise, she thinks, that the Capitol instantly loved him. The scars that cover his body have faded into pale lines for her to trace.

She, on the other hand, is a shell of rough edges and hard corners. Burn scars trailing all over her spine and shoulders - remnants of the war they managed to survive and a sick reminder of all the people who didn’t. 

Most days she doesn’t mind; convinces herself that if she doesn't look in the mirror, she won’t feel the guilt that the scarring bears.

Other days, Katniss just wants to hide from the world, from Peeta, because no matter how lovely he makes her feel, nothing he does will ever take away the scars of their past.

“Isn’t exactly what, baby?” he prompts her gently.

"I’m not pretty, Peeta.”

And it’s true. Katniss Everdeen isn’t pretty. She has been radiant and bold in the past - striking even - but never pretty.

The boy just tilts his head. "I've got scars too, sweetheart."

“It’s different."

"No,” his voice is gentle. “It’s not.”

Then, he puts his hand forward, reaching out to her from the water.

“Come, Katniss.”

The girl isn’t sure whether it’s the softness in his tone, or the sheer openness in his eyes that convinces her.

“Can you turn around please?”

It’s a stupid request, especially considering the fact that Peeta has literally seen her naked before, but the boy simply nods and turns away without question. Her clothes come off slowly, shirt first, followed by her shorts and lastly her bra (she keeps her underwear on for the sake of modesty).

The water is cool and gentle against her body when Katniss steps in, rippling around her as she wades towards Peeta. When she’s behind the boy, the lake deep enough that its water reaches just under her collarbone, Katniss speaks again, barely a whisper.

“You can look now.”

He turns to look at her and something like pure adoration sweeping over his features as they stare at each other.

And then he’s gathering her up in his arms, holding her against him, skin to skin, and Katniss can’t help the shiver that runs down her spine when Peeta’s large hands move through the water to bracket her waist

“Is this okay?” Peeta murmurs, checking in on her - because for all his teasing and cheek he still values her comfort above all.

“Yeah- yeah it’s okay.” Katniss tries to hide the way her voice shakes a little at the admission.

“Good,” then, “turn around for me, Kat.”

Katniss doesn't have it in her to bristle at the nickname because it sounds like a prayer on Peeta’s lips.

When she does turn, one of Peeta’s hands goes to the centre of her back underwater, fingers sliding over the burn scars that litter her skin as his other hand stays planted firmly on her waist - grounding her.

He traces her scars so lightly that Katniss lets herself relax a little under his ministrations, but when he reaches the nape of her neck, the girl flinches - eyes bursting open as he touches the place where she knows the scarring is worst. A marred patchwork of healed skin which must look and feel different to the rest of her. Peeta coos tenderly as he pulls his hands away gingerly.

"You’re okay, Katniss. Do you want me to stop?"

"No," Katniss mumbles. "No, you can carry on."

He takes her hand in his and spins her around carefully then, so they're face to face once more.

Katniss avoids his gaze desperately, but Peeta places two fingers under her chin and tilts her head up.

“There you are.” he presses a kiss to her forehead and squeezes her hand gently. “I’ve got you.”

Then, the boy breathes deeply as his thumb brushes over her collarbones before moving lower.

“You’re so beautiful. You know that, Katniss?”

“You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not, I swear it, sweetheart. You are the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. I’ve thought so for years. You know that.”

And maybe it makes her selfish to like the way Peeta showers her with compliments - to want him to do it a thousand more times until every last shred of uncertainty and embarrassment is gone - but Katniss can’t help herself.

“Sap.” The word comes out teasing but her voice is thick with emotion.

Peeta laughs, shaking his head. "Still okay?"

"I'm with you," Katniss replies, more serious. "Yes."

They stay in silence for a while longer, so Katniss can only hear Peeta's breaths and the water sloshing around them as his hands continue to travel over her.

Peeta Mellark touches the skin in a way that is near reverent, as if she’s something to be worshipped. As if he’s a cartographer, mapping her out for the first time - the faded meandering scars on her hands, the soft plane of her stomach.

Katniss wonders if he can feel the coils forming inside her too.

“Will you tell me if I hurt you?” Peeta asks, gesturing to her scars. “I know they ache sometimes.”

Katniss wants to laugh at this - tell him that his hands are by far the kindest to have ever touched her body. That she could let him hold her like this for an eternity and then some and it still wouldn’t be enough.

“You would never hurt me, Peeta.”

(Sometimes Peeta needs that reassurance too).

He kisses her then, hands moving up to cradle her head as his lips press against hers gently.

“I love you.”

His words are a gentle promise against her skin and his beam is brighter than the overhead sun when Katniss replies.

“I love you too.”

THE FOREST, THE FIRE, AND THE WITNESSES WATCHING

prompt: "can you write something about the Victor's reactions while watching Katniss and Peeta in the 74th Hunger Games? I always imagined Johanna laughing and cheering when Katniss pulled out the berries."

word count: 5,389

read on A03

The realisation that Rue’s body must still be warm under Katniss’s touch makes Johanna vomit there and then. Except she hasn’t eaten anything sufficient for days so all that comes up is bile as she retches and tears stream down her face.

If Finnick saw her like this, she thinks, he would unplug her television and make her sit outside in the cold. Pull her against him and rub at the gooseflesh on her arms like a brother would his younger sister. He’d ruffle her hair maybe, squeeze her shoulder comfortingly. Tell her that it’s going to be okay.

But Finnick isn’t here. No one is.

And so, without anyone to stop her from doing so, Johanna continues watching the Games.

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠

:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The realisation that Rue’s body must still be warm under Katniss’s touch makes Johanna vomit there and then. Except she hasn’t eaten anything sufficient for days so all that comes up is bile as she retches and tears stream down her face.

If Finnick saw her like this, she thinks, he would unplug her television and make her sit outside in the cold. Pull her against him and rub at the gooseflesh on her arms like a brother would his younger sister. He’d ruffle her hair maybe, squeeze her shoulder comfortingly. Tell her that it’s going to be okay.

But Finnick isn’t here. No one is.

And so, without anyone to stop her from doing so, Johanna continues watching the Games.

Based on the prompt; 

“can you write something about the Victor’s reactions while watching Katniss and Peeta in the 74th Hunger Games? I always imagined Johanna laughing and cheering when Katniss pulled out the berries.”

Word count: 4,811

read on AO3: the forest, the fire, and the witnesses watching

where do we go from here?

summary:

Her body has become an expanse of jutting angles and hard corners after weeks of not taking care of it properly but the boy doesn't seem to mind as he envelopes Katniss into his warm embrace. If he holds her tight enough, the Girl on Fire thinks that her flames might just wink out of existence.   

Right now? Nothing sounds lovelier.

or

Katniss struggles with disordered eating habits. Peeta helps her through it.

A/N: this is literally just a vent piece for me, i dont think i’ll even post it on ao3 (at least, not until i feel like im in the right headspace to give an idea / a story like this my full attention). What Katniss experiences in this drabble will not be relatable to everyone who has ever had to live with disordered eating because oftentimes experiences of the sort are very individual and personal. I wrote this with my own experiences in mind.

TW: disordered eating habits, talk of eating disorders. Please do not read this is if could harm you. 

————————

“You only have to eat what you can manage.”

Peeta Mellark sounds cautious as he puts a plate on the kitchen table and places the food on it (two slices of toasted and buttered bread, an apple, a handful of grapes). Treading carefully around her as if he’s scared she might break. 

There was a time when Katniss would have snapped at his behaviour. Told him to stop treating her like glass when she’s anything but.

Today, however, she finds that she doesn't mind too much.

(It's nice to be treated with tenderness sometimes.)

"I don't know how much I'll be able to keep down." Katniss is truthful with him because she knows by now that lying to Peeta Mellark never gets her anywhere.

"That's okay," he murmurs. "We can always try again later too, hm?" 

The girl nods but thinks to herself morbidly that this must be what decaying is like.

Dirty plates stacked up in the kitchen sink because she can't muster the energy to wash them. Food rotting in the pantry because she can’t bear the thought of even looking at it. When she does eat, the small morsels she's swallowed are retched into the toilet moments later. At night, she tugs or pinches harshly at the skin on her stomach and arms and thighs. Repulsed by the very same body that got her through two death tournaments and a war. A body that keeps trying to protect her, in spite of all the ingratitude she shows it. 

The irony of hating something that has kept her alive for so long is not lost on her. 

But it feels like control and Katniss wants to believe that it is.

(Peeta’s frequent hand squeezes and Haymitch’s worried gaze tell a completely different story, regardless of how hard the girl tries to ignore them both.)

Peeta's arms come around her then. Gently pulling her out of her thoughts and against his chest. Katniss goes willingly, swaying forward and breathing him in deeply - lavender, fresh bread, honey.  

She’s nothing but crumbling dust against the warm pillar his chest creates. 

Skin and atrophying bones that rattle inside of her with every step she takes. Brittle hair, a sandpaper tongue and razor-sharp teeth. Her body has become an expanse of jutting angles and hard corners after weeks of not taking care of it properly but the boy doesn't seem to mind as he envelopes Katniss into his warm embrace. If he holds her tight enough, the Girl on Fire thinks that her flames might just wink out of existence.   

Right now? Nothing sounds lovelier.

Her next words are muffled by Peeta’s soft blue jumper - one she recognises easily after having stolen it enough times.

What she says is; 

“You shouldn't have to deal with all this. I'm sorry. I’m sorry.”  

What she means to say is;

“You shouldn’t have to deal with me. I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve anything. Sometimes food feels like a privilege. Living always feels like one. I’m sorry, Peeta. I’m so so sorry.”

Peeta seems to hear all the words she can’t bring herself to say. 

 “Katniss, you don't have to apologise. None of this is your fault.”

She laughs at this; self-deprecating. As sharp as a knife and twice as brazen.

I let this happen to me. How is it not my fault?

But she doesn't say it out loud because despite Peeta’s reassuring words, the boy looks tired and sad and Katniss doesn’t want to argue with him and add to the heaviness he carries on his shoulders.

But then, Peeta does something she doesn’t expect. His hands move up so they're framing her face - thumbs brushing over her cheeks lightly. His eyes are cautious blue pools of worry and something sick and nauseating churns in Katniss’s empty stomach upon realising that he’s upset because of her. 

“Sweetheart, you gotta hear me.” he murmurs, ignorant to her thoughts. “None of this is your fault.”

And Katniss Everdeen doesn't really know why, but when she begins to cry, she nearly forgets how to stop. Peeta’s fingers brush away at the tears on her face and he presses his lips to the crown of her head gently. 

“Oh my sweet girl. Hey, hey - it’s alright. We’re okay.” His voice is reassuring as he manouvrers her head to his chest and wraps his arms around her once again. 

“I love you. You’re doing good. We’ll get through this too, Kat. I promise.”

Katniss’s hands just dig into his back as she shudders. Something like a hiccuped sob falling from her lips when his arms tighten around her comfortingly.

“I’m sorry I can’t look after myself better.” 

“It’s alright, Katniss. We’ll take each day as it comes. We’ll do it together, okay?”

And it’s not okay. Not yet at least. Both of them know that.

But when Katniss pulls away from his chest to see Peeta looking down at her with dewey eyes, she thinks that one day it might be.

Heyy 😊, maybe it's too much but I think these would go well together for everlark

your fingers slowly running through their hair

+

their face buried in your chest

+

patiently hearing them venting out their frustration and tiredness of the busy day

AND IT ALL HURTS (BUT IT’S FINE)

cw: none!

ᨒ↟↟ᨒ↟ᨒ↟↟ᨒ

Katniss realises there's something wrong with Peeta the moment he steps through the door.

Shoulders slumped, blonde hair messy, he shuffles into the living room and offers her a halfhearted smile.

"Hey, sweetheart."

He sounds exhausted, overwhelmed, and his voice cracks horribly when his eyes meet hers.

"Hey."

Katniss reaches out to him from her place on the couch and tugs him down on top of her when he places his hand in hers. The boy goes willingly, holding himself a little upright as to not crush her under his weight until Katniss pinches his side.

"Come closer?” It’s tentatively spoken.

Peeta hesistates. “I don’t want to smother you.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

The boy huffs a laugh at this but obliges. Leaning down more heavily until his head is tucked into the valley between her neck and her shoulder and his arms are wrapped around Katniss's frame. He takes a deep breath as the girl starts to rubs his back tenderly. His breathes slowly against her skin, nose nestled against her pulse.

Under her ministrations, Peeta admits, "Today was hard."

And Peeta hasn’t been one for brokenhearted confessions for a while now, so when this one leaves his lips, Katniss has to swallow her surprise.

"Would you like to talk about it?"

He shudders almost imperceptibly in her arms so Katniss raises her hands from his back to card through his hair calmingly. Letting his loose curls spool around her fingers as he sags against her.

“Take your time.”

(To anyone else, the softness with which speaks would sound near foreign, but she hopes that to her boy it sounds like comfort and home.)

Slowly, quietly, after a while of them lying there, Peeta begins to speak.

"I wanted to make a special recipe my dad taught me when I was younger. I've been meaning to for a while now. I thought it would be a new specialty at the bakery,” his voice is muffled in her cardigan. “We used to make it together all the time. Just the two of us.”

Katniss hums gently, encouraging him to go on.

"I even called Delly over so I could teach her it. I was so sure I'd be able to make it-“

He cuts himself off, swallowing deeply and going quiet again for a while. Katniss lets him gather his thoughts. Pressing sweet kisses to the crown of his head.

When he speaks again, Peeta sounds devastated.

"I couldn't remember.”

Katniss's hands don't stop carding through his hair. Peeta’s arms tremble around her waist.

“I couldn’t- fuck, Katniss, I laid out all the ingredients and then realised I didn’t know what the steps were.”

His voice cracks, and Katniss wants so desperately to be able to see his face, but he keeps it firmly tucked away from her. Reluctant to let her see him hurting.

“I was so embarrassed, Kat. And Delly didn’t mind because she’s Delly and she’s my friend, but I was so upset about it. I still am.”

He takes a teary breath in. "I'm so angry with myself. Because I should be better now, right? They said I would be. I should be remembering more things by now.” Then, quieter.

"Why can't I remember?"

Peeta’s upset is an knife to Katniss’s stomach.

“I’ve lost one of the only things I had left of him.”

Katniss’s hands do stop then, moving so that she can cup them around his face and tilt it upwards. Peeta lifts his head from her chest and allows her to do so, pliant under her touch.

Their eyes meet and Katniss’s heart tightens painfully in her chest.

“You haven’t lost him, Peeta.” She thumbs his cheekbone carefully, wiping at the mess of tears gathering there. “You’ve just forgotten. And it’s painful and it hurts, but you’ll get it all back in time. Your memories won’t stay taken forever.”

When Peeta doesn’t speak, Katniss continues.

“And besides, you carry on his legacy every day, Peeta. You rebuilt the bakery. You cherish the recipes he taught you. You are kind and you care for your customers like you told me he did.”

The boy leans back from her more fully and Katniss follows him up so that they’re sitting on the couch facing each other. Her legs thrown over his, chests only a few inches apart. She taps his heart, once twice.

“You carry him here, Peeta. Forgetting one recipe won’t change that.”

Peeta nods like he doesn’t quite believe her yet, but will in time. When Katniss shuffles closer to press her lips against his forehead, he doesn’t pull away.

“I’m sorry for being such a mess,” his voice come out low, ragged.

“Don’t be.” Katniss brushes his tears away with her fingertips. “I always want to hear about your day. Regardless of whether it was good or bad. We can try to make your recipe again tomorrow if you’d like.” she offers him a smile.

“Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

Peeta smiles back at her. A proper smile for the first time this evening. And it’s little dim at the edges, reminding Katniss of clouds when they obscure the sun ever so slightly. But it’s a smile nonetheless and so she takes it with open arms.

WE’LL FIND COMFORT BY THE LAKESIDE .𖥔 ݁ ˖๋࣭ ⭑🌱🌲

prompt: can we have a soft fluff everlark morning? i love the way you write their happy moments +  katniss + peeta + lake (bonus points for skinnydipping) love ur writing XD

Word count: 2k

cw: none i don’t think!

ᨒ↟↟ᨒ↟ᨒ↟↟ᨒ

Keep reading

HERE IS THE PLACE WHERE I LOVE YOU

prompt: Katniss has a nightmare and Peeta comforts her!

Word count: 1.7k

cw: nightmares, canon typical violence, trauma

ᨒ↟↟ᨒ↟ᨒ↟↟ᨒ

Keep reading

aBfiejfjejdjeHWVDJEHD BEACE SCENE BEACH SCENE BEACH SCENE

Beach scene.

"I do," I say. "I need you." He looks upset, takes a deep breath as if to begin a long argument, and that's no good, no good at all, because he'll start going on about Prim and my mother and everything and I'll just get confused. So before he can talk, I stop his lips with a kiss.

I feel that thing again. The thing I only felt once before. In the cave last year, when I was trying to get Haymitch to send us food. I kissed Peeta about a thousand times during those Games and after. But there was only one kiss that made me feel something stir deep inside. Only one that made me want more. But my head wound started bleeding and he made me lie down. This time, there is nothing but us to interrupt us.

My hands cup either side of his face, his stubble feels rough against my smooth hands. My cold lips envelop his impossibly warm ones, my hands make their way around the nape of his neck, and a sudden desire to pull on his golden curls overtakes me. A certain urgency invades my senses, and I lose my comprehension of reality and the gravity of the situation we are in.

His hands come around my shoulders to caress me, I think, until he pushes me away. My face surges with embarrassment. In what world would Peeta refuse my kisses? Is he out of his mind?

"Katn-iss, lo-ve, listen," he attempts to speak as I slither my hands down his waist, lifting the hem of his undershirt. "Yo-u're the one w-ho should—"

My heart races as his swollen lips form the word "love." Is he saying this for the audience, or does he really want to call me love? I am his love, aren't I? I think of a world where Peeta would come home from work every day and say, "Love, I'm home." Oh, how I would long for him all day, both our faces lighting up brighter than Sirius as we made our way to each other.

"Don't 'love' me," I spit, fuming at his selflessness. How dare he try to sacrifice himself for me? How dare he think I could survive one day on this earth without him? How dare he not realize how much I need him? My body heaves with anger and passion, lighting an ethereal flame as I engulf his lips once again. I lose all restraint, one hand aggressively tugging at his blonde locks and the other swiftly removing his shirt. I absorb his words with my mouth, sliding my tongue across his upper lip. A breathy sigh escapes from his mouth, sending shooting stars into my head. He finally gives in and unlatches his lips, allowing my tongue to enter. His tongue is no competition for mine; I push him over and explore his mouth with unearthly desire.

In the silence that follows, I find myself on top of him, straddling his lap. I grind my hips against him, breathing out his name as I feel his arousal against my core. His burning chest heaves harder against me as he peppers my neck with kisses, working his way to my ear. Overwhelmed with desire to become one with him, every inch of my body buzzes with electricity. A peculiar place in my body pulsates with energy, only slightly relieved when my hips grind against him. I want every inch of his body enveloping mine, covering me and holding me ever so tightly.

The rough pads of his fingers brush ever so slightly against my breasts, making me arch my back against him. He smirks mischievously against my collarbone, proud of the reaction he is able to elicit just through a slight brush. Oh two can plan the game, Mellark. Just you wait.

I glide my nails over his back, finally resting my hands on his hips, pulling him ardently against that spot that's begging for relief. His hips buck aginst mine as my mouth lays wet, open mouthed kisses all over his golden neck; Our moans chorus through the dead of the night as the breeze envelops our tangled silhouettes.

His stocky build flushes against my soft curves, reminding me of all those nights on the train. Why hadn't I tried this sooner? Why hadn't I realized that he is the only boy I really need? Why hadn't I understood that I literally cannot survive without him?

What if this could be it? What if one day I could take Peeta to the meadow behind my old house with miniature versions of us? A small girl with blonde hair, grey eyes, and a little boy with dark hair, blue eyes. Somehow under the hot, pink sky and the gritty sand digging underneath our feet, I imagine a world where my beautiful Peeta could be a father.

The sensation inside me grows warmer and spreads out from my chest, down through my body, out along my arms and legs, to the tips of my being. Instead of satisfying me, the kisses have the opposite effect, of making my need greater. I thought I was something of an expert on hunger, but this is an entirely new kind.

It's the first crack of the lightning storm - the bolt hitting the tree at midnight - that brings us to our senses. It rouses Finnick as well. He sits up with a sharp cry. I see his fingers digging into the sand as he reassures himself that whatever nightmare he inhabited wasn't real.