The Hunger Games Fic - Tumblr Posts

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all the version of me dead (and buried in the yard outside)

word count: 4,985 ao3  

After the events of Mockingjay, Katniss Everdeen struggles to come to terms with everything she has lost. Peeta is there to help her through it.

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the way she tells me i'm hers (and she is mine)

word count: 5,260 ao3 

In which Peeta Mellark doesn't want Katniss to see just how badly he's holding up until everything eventually comes crashing down on him. A sequel to all the version of me dead (and buried in the yard outside)

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the sweeter the sun, the harder the rain

word count: 3,157 ao3  tumblr

"She stands there before Peeta, suddenly self-conscious about the way she must look under his gaze. Her skin looks as if it’s been stretched over her bones; Katniss Everdeen is gaunt, sinewy , rough at the edges, and she’s healed wrong so many times in the past few years that her body is a patchwork of old fractures and burns that are still slightly pink.

Katniss wonders how Peeta can even recognise her like this."

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a little fall of rain

word count: 1,927 ao3 

Katniss dances in the rain and remembers a similar moment with her sister! Peeta is amazing! Fluff ensues! That's basically it!

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storms always pass (and this one will too)

word count: 1,621 ao3 

“I’m sick.”

She doesn’t mean to start crying, she doesn’t, but when Peeta’s kind gaze finds hers and his warm hands meet her smaller ones, Katniss feels the floodgates burst open. 

In seconds, his arms are around her, lips pressing against her forehead as she’s pulled against his warm chest.

“I know, honey, I’ve got you. You’re okay, you’re okay.” 

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just close your eyes, the sun is going down

(an ongoing collection of oneshots!)

word count: 10,570 ao3 

the ghosts that haunt you tumblr

girl on fire, up in flames tumblr

home is wherever you are tonight tumblr

we'll find comfort by the lakeside tumblr

here is the place where i love you tumblr

where do we go from here?

and it all hurts (but it's fine) tumblr

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the forest, the fire, and the witnesses watching

word count: 4,974 ao3

Johanna Mason and Finnick Odair watch the 74th Hunger Games.

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no grave can hold my body down (i'll crawl home to her)

word count: 13,851 ao3

Finnick Odair doesn't die in the sewers, but he still has a very rough time getting out of them.

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there's space for both (here, in my heart)

word count: 8,671 ao3

Four times Nile says she's okay and the one time she really, really isn't.

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with wax melted, i'd meet the sea

word count: 2,161 ao3

joe struggles with the aftermath of what happened at merrick's and nicky is a good husband.

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love grows, wherever you turn

word count: 1,926 ao3

a soft morning with Gwen and a soft evening with Lancelot!

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!

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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.

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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.”

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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.

HOME IS WHEREVER YOU ARE TONIGHT𖥔 ݁ ˖๋࣭ ⭑🌱🌲

Fluff request: sleepy katniss demands to be carried by peeta

Word count: 1.3k

cw: none!

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It's late afternoon and Peeta is showing Katniss how to make muffins in her kitchen. He's talking her through the steps, carrying out each action slowly so she catches it, when Katniss begins to look around the room.

Save for the flour on the countertop, it's spotless. Everything is in order - the space is leagues away from the mess it was when Peeta first found her after his return from the Capitol.

Katniss can’t help but feel a little proud of how far she’s come since then.

“Still with me, honey?” The sound of Peeta placing the baking tray into the oven pulls Katniss out of her thoughts.

The girl hums noncommittally as Peeta's hand moves to frame her waist - brushing over where her stomach is far softer than it was all those months ago; warm and filled with food for the first time in forever.

He pulls her away from the countertop easily.

"What are we doing?" Katniss's voice is light- almost unrecognisable when she thinks back to the hoarse mess it once was.

Peeta pulls her close so that their chests are pressed together and her head is resting against his collarbone, "We're dancing, sweetheart."

(Katniss is hesitant to call it 'dancing', but when she looks up, Peeta looks so blissful and at peace, that she decides to keep her mouth shut.)

She and Peeta move around the kitchen slowly, bodies pressed together. There’s a smudge of flour just above his eyebrow, and Katniss knows that there’s probably some on her face too. But then Peeta sweeps her up in his arms; one arm around her back, the other under her knees as he spins her around and Katniss finds that she couldn’t care less.

Neither does Peeta apparently because the boy leans forward and presses a soft kiss to her lips like he hasn’t a care in the world.

“I can hear you thinking from here,” he whispers, placing a kiss to the tip of her nose. “What’s on your mind, Kat?”

Katniss just shakes her head, nestling further into his arms. "Nothing really. What's on yours?”

Peeta hoists her a little higher up kissing her again sweetly. When he pulls away there’s a sunlit smile adorning his face.

“You’re on my mind. Always are.”

Katniss rolls her eyes at this but the way her heart starts thudding quicker in her chest is near impossible to miss.

“I love you,” Peeta murmurs then, and it’s so casual, so easy, that Katniss can’t help but feel a little envious of his openness. She smiles back and dips her head.

“You’re a sap.”

Peeta kisses her temple swiftly and grins, “Only for you, sweetheart. Only for you.”

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That night, dinner is warm muffins and milk on the couch. Katniss’s legs are in Peeta’s lap as he chatters to her about his morning at the bakery.

The girl is only half listening so Peeta’s words wash over her easily - she focuses instead on the way his soft blonde hair curls a little at the nape of his neck and his blue eyes light up when he laughs. When a badly stifled yawn escapes her, the boy cocks his head and smiles.

“Tired?”

There’s no point lying to him, so Katniss doesn’t even try.

“A little.”

Peeta takes her mug from her hands and places it on the countertop before crouching in front of her.

“C’mon then. Let’s get you upstairs.” He brushes her hair back and Katniss leans into the touch, covering his hand with her own so it cradles her face.

“Carry me?” Tiredness can make Katniss Everdeen incredibly bold sometimes, and the girl can't find it in herself to care.

With anyone else, she’d be nervous about asking something like that. But this is Peeta, so when her request registers, the boy smiles softly and nods.

“Always.”

Placing an arm around her back and the other under her knees, Peeta scoops Katniss up into his warm arms for the second time today, carrying her upstairs with such care that Katniss thinks she might just be seconds away from melting on the spot.

He sits Katniss down on the bed in their room and gets back up, moving to rummage through their closet.

“You’re sweet when you're tired.”

Katniss sticks her tongue out at him in retaliation and Peeta snorts, raising his hands in mock defeat.

“I take it back - you’re fearsome.”

And then he’s laughing, and peppering her face with tiny kisses and Katniss giggles too - a small girlish sound that she woulnd’t have been caught dead making a few years ago - pushing him away gently as her face warms.

Peeta places the shirt she’s been wearing to bed on the comforter beside her before stepping away and beginning to change out of his own clothes.

Katniss makes a halfhearted effort to get changed before flopping backwards on the bed.

“I’m too tired.”

(She’s not really, but the sound of Peeta laughing in response makes her heart soar.)

“Do you need some help?” He comes over and gestures to her legs, or more accurately, the sweatpants she’s still wearing.

Katniss nods, and Peeta kneels in front of her, pulling the sweatpants down her legs easily.

She’s struck by how normal it feels. The domesticity of it all - the sweet intimacy of his actions. There was a time when Katniss would have shied away from his featherlight touch but tonight she finds herself revelling in it.

“Arms up for me, sweetheart.”

Katniss obliges and Peeta pulls her shirt off, replacing it with the one he’d left beside her.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” She’s shocked by how much emotion her voice carries, but Peeta just grins down at her.

“Always.”

Then, he pulls back the comforter and helps her slide under. Katniss doesn't protest at all - just lets him tuck her in and press his lips to her forehead as she shuts her eyes.

She’s almost in the warm embrace of sleep when she hears Peeta shuffling around the room, bare feet padding against wooden floorboards quietly.

(He has always been heavy-footed, but she can tell he's trying to make as little noise as possible).

"I'm so proud of you, Katniss. I'm so, so proud of you all the time, sweetheart. I should probably tell you more often."

It dawns on Katniss then that he must think her asleep, and her suspicions are confirmed when his soft voice drifts across the room and wraps itself around her like a lullaby.

Katniss can almost hear the smile on his lips as he mumbles.

"You're real pretty, you know that, Katniss? Real pretty. Leave me breathless all the time. I wish you'd see it too. You are so, so beautiful." His voice is closer now, and Katniss feels his hand brushes featherlight against her cheek as he speaks.

"I wish you'd let me paint you. I'd put flowers in your hair, maybe daisies?" A soft snort follows, "Who am I kidding, you'd never let me do that."

He lies down next to her then, wrapping his arms around her waist easily and moulding himself around the curl that her body forms.

Katniss knows, she knows, that she should say something back. Thank him for his words, maybe. Tell him that she's proud of him too. Everyday.

But it's Peeta who has always been the one with the sweet, loving words. A boy practically brimming with soft, kind reassurances and easy proclamations of devotion. Katniss on the other hand has never been very good at finding the right words and knowing when to use them or at explaining how she feels.

Still, when she hears his breathing even out, the words fall out of her mouth - whispered under the moon’s watchful gaze as Peeta sleeps. Katniss takes the hand that’s on her waist and brings it up to her lips - dusting a kiss over his fingertips.

“I love you too, Peeta.”

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!

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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.”

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

The live broadcast of Peeta’s interview with Caesar Flickerman has already started when Katniss Everdeen steps into the District Thirteen mess hall.

The boy looks wrong, hollow, Katniss thinks. Gaunt and ragged on the Capitol’s live stream. Dark shadows hanging under his eyes as if all the life has been sucked right out of him. The tie around his neck looks like the collars that Katniss has seen the Peacekeepers use on their dogs to keep them obedient. It looks like a noose, she realises with a start; a necklace of rope tight around his adam's apple.

He looks like a ghost and Katniss isn't sure if she's breathing or not as her eyes stay glued on Thirteen’s display.

At first, Peeta seems complacent enough - responding to Caesar's questions with curt, quiet, measured answers that Katniss doesn’t quite pick up on through the numb rushing in her ears.

Then, Peeta calls out for Katniss to flee.

Alarm bells ring.

"They're coming, Katniss,” he stares at her through the screen, eyes bloodshot, mouth frantic. 

“They're going to kill everyone in District Thirteen! You’ll be dead by morning, you have to-"

Two gunshots are fired in sharp succession. Peeta slumps into the chair, mouth agape, eyes glazed over, blood trickling down from his nose.

Dead.

Dead.  Dead.  Dead.  Dead.  Dead.  Dead.  Dead.  Dead.

Guttural cries tear their way out of Katniss's throat at this. Feral, terrified things that morph into wails when she looks up and the live feed cuts out causing Peeta's lifeless form to disappear before her very eyes. Just like that, another person is gone. Another person she loves - gone.

"Peeta?" His name is barely a whisper on her lips, but her throat feels like she's been screaming it for days.

The girl squeezes her eyes shut and presses her hands against her ears then, desperate to erase the residue of Peeta’s image from her head, desperate to forget. But it's no use. The memories come pouring through anyway.

Finnick; screaming out for her as mutts drag him down, tearing his body apart limb by limb with their bloody, snapping jaws. Ribbons of his blood mixing with the water and splattering on the cement below.

A terrified Rue resting one hand over the gaping hole in her blood-soaked chest and using her other to grip onto Katniss's fingers shakily. A tear slips down the small girl's face. "Can you sing?"  

Cinna's lips pressing against her forehead. "I'm still betting on you, Girl on Fire.” And then- bangs, yelling. His broken limp body being dragged away as Katniss screams and reteches and hurls herself against the glass separating her from him.

Prim. Messy blonde plaits backdropped by bloodshed and violence. Tuck your tail in, little duck. Somewhere in the distance, Katniss hears children wailing, and she struggles to her knees, crawling closer to Prim, needing to pull her sister away from the death and anguish surrounding them. Another bomb goes off before Katniss can reach her and then - burning skin, burning hair, and all Katniss can think about is how she can't see her little sister’s blue eyes anymore-

Katniss wakes up with a jolt, panicking and breathless and sobbing. Reaching out for something - anything -  hands frantic and trembling as she gains her bearings in the darkness.

“Peeta? Peeta-” she gasps out for him, another scream starting to tear its way out of her throat when she gets no reply.

But then;

“I’ve got you, Katniss. You’re okay.”

A light switches on. Gentle hands find her shaking arms as warm blue eyes find her own and then Peeta is there, tapping smooth patterns into her wrists, tugging her close so that her forehead can rest on his bare shoulder.

“You’re safe, We’re okay, sweetheart. It’s okay. We're in our room. You had a nightmare.”

His words are slow, grounding- reminding her where she is, who she is. The only thing tethering her to reality as the nightmare threatens to pull her back under.

Katniss’s memories (blood and screams, death, Peeta-) rears up again in the back of her mind and she shakes her head desperately, a jagged sob escapes her before she has the chance to stifle it.

Peeta’s voice is soothing and kind, contrasting his sleep mussed appearance. When he opens his arms, Katniss falls into them, allowing herself to be gathered up, still sweaty and shaking, and held against his chest.

She probably shouldn't be doing this. Feels near sick for having woken Peeta up, but the boy just holds her tight, despite the shudders. Cradling her head against his shoulder and letting his fingers massage her scalp gently.

“I promise you’re okay, sweetheart,” his murmurs are soft but they reach her regardless. “I’ve got you.”

“Real?"

Katniss sounds like a terrified child when she asks, the admission tumbling out of her, cleaving the air between them into fragments.

Peeta, noticing her growing panic, takes her hand in his and presses it against his chest, right above his heart.

"Real,” he murmurs firmly. “We’re alright, okay? I'm here, Katniss. I'm here. The war is over. The Games are over. You’ve got me."

In all honesty, she's not sure how long she cries for, trying her hardest to fight against the tight grip of sleep that threatens to pull her out of Peeta’s reach. Just knows that at some point, the bone-deep fear that's been carving a path through her finally begins to retreat.

Katniss digs the heels of her palms into her eyes so hard that stars begin to appear behind her eyelids. Pressing her head into Peeta’s chest and taking slow breaths in order to calm her racing heart back down.

The boy notices her attempts, letting his hand brush over her hair as she takes shaky breaths

“That’s it, Kat,” Peeta coos sweetly. “There you go. Deep breaths.”

By the time she manages to find some kind of semblance of calm, there are already choked apologies are prepared on her lips.

“I’m sorry, Peeta. I didn’t- I didn’t mean to wake you-”

“Hey, hey. None of that, honey. It’s okay.”

She feels his chin resting on the crown of her head, a kiss pressed softly against her tangled hair.

“But I woke you, and I know you get tired after full shifts at the bakery and-” 

Her mouth is clumsy, exhausted. Stumbling around as she tries to speak.

She’s making a fool of herself.

As if he can read her thoughts, Peeta shakes his head and pulls her hands away from her face, squeezing them gently in his own.

“Katniss, you don’t have to apologise. I love you, a nightmare isn’t ever going to change that. Do you want to talk about it?”

The girl shakes her head, no words needed. She prefers to talk about her nightmares during the day, when daylight can wash them away easily and everything feels a little more bearable. She always has.

Peeta’s eyes just soften as he brushes her hair out of her face with gentle fingers.

“C’mere.”

He lies back, pulling her down with him carefully - a careful hand cupping the back of her head, as he guides her to lie on top of him.

Katniss goes willingly, fitting against him like a puzzle piece. Her head finds its home under his chin whilst her hand makes a loose fist against his bare chest.

“We’re okay,” she murmurs into the almost darkness. “Real or not real?”

“Real.”

“We’re safe.”

“Real.”

“You love me.”

Peeta unclasps the fist her hand is making smoothly and then pulls her palm over his chest, slightly left of centre.

“Right here.”

ᨒ↟↟ᨒ↟ᨒ↟↟ᨒ

"I'm back!"

When Peeta comes back from work the next day, it’s nearly midnight.

Katniss hears the sound of the boy shutting the door behind him and it’s enough to get her off the couch and rushing out of the living room, bare feet surging over freezing tiles, before the boy even has the chance to step through the foyer.

She throws herself at him and he catches her, hands framing her waist easily as he laughs.

"Woah, hey sweetheart," Peeta presses a kiss to her forehead, pulling away a little when his lips come into contact with her skin. "You’re freezing!”

Katniss shrugs and presses her face into the crook of his neck.

"Missed you. I shouldn’t have let you go this morning."

Peeta shoots her a look that says I told you so and Katniss flicks his shoulder lightly.

In all truth, he hadn’t wanted to go to work this morning. Had curled up against her under the comforter and whispered that he could take the day off - that Delly wouldn’t mind opening up.

But Katniss had shaken her head, still slightly guilty for keeping him up through the night.

“You deserve a break from me, Peeta. Go and do what you love.”

When he’d whispered with a shit-eating grin that she was what he loved, Katniss had kicked him straight out of the bed.

Now, she’s regretting that choice.

Oblivious, Peeta smiles down at her. "I missed you too. How was your day?"

The girl rubs at her eyes a little as she shrugs again.

"Boring. Cold, I hate winter," she grumbles. "The heater broke."

"Oh yeah?" Peeta cocoons her hands in his and blows on her fingers - warming them up absentmindedly.

"You're telling me I've been sitting in a warm bakery all day whilst my girl has been freezing at home?"

Katniss nods against him but doesn't reply, perfectly happy to stay here, tucked into his chest as he sways them back and forth slightly.

“You sure you're okay?”

“I’m fine.”

”In that case, we should probably get some rest, sleepyhead. It’s getting late.”

“I’m fine. It’s fine.”

“Katniss.”

“Peeta.”

She feels his lips move against the crown of her head. "Let's go upstairs?"

The girl grumbles a little in protest but Peeta presses a finger to her lips with a tut.  

"Nope, I'm not hearing it, you're dead on your feet. We need to get you warmed up and then we can take a nap. That sound alright to you?"

Katniss flinches slightly at the second proposal and Peeta's gaze softens as if he senses her reluctance.

"I'll be there if you wake up, Katniss. I promise."

When they lie down in their bed a few minutes later Peeta repeats his words.

"Sleep, Katniss," he says. "I'll be here if you wake up."

Winter's first snowfall brings with it memories of war and fear and death, but with Peeta Mellark at her side, Katniss feels like she's halfway to spring already.

ive just realised that my first ever everlark fic has hit 2 thousand hits on ao3 and whilst i know that might not be much in the grand scheme of the site, i wanted to say that i’m so proud of me for even building up the courage to write and post it?

a while has passed since i uploaded it and though i’ve written a few other fics since, this one has remained my favourite. it was such a cathartic and formative thing for me to write, especially seen as i was going through a really rough period at the time. and i’m just so? very proud of myself for putting it out there and for putting my whole heart into it. it’s not perfect, but it is mine and that means a lot.

anyways i’m rambling now so i’m gonna shut up but yeah i’m proud of me!

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.

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.

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: 4,974

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.

finally got around to editing this :)

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

Keep reading

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

Keep reading

If my college essays were fanfic, I’d have them all done by now

I srsly need some tbosas moots or fanfic moots in general, it’s so lonely in my mansion

I just want moots who I can rant about tbosas (mainly just me being in love Coryo and Lucy Gray).

We love hot fictional murderers and their love interests

Me when I literally just came up with the angstiest Coriolanus fic idea you’ve ever seen, prepare to cry bitches xoxo gossip girl

I got called into work early today and I didn’t get to finish the Coryo fic :( if I get let of early I’ll keep writing (even though I have a breakfast shift tomorrow)

Some cute Sejanus fluff hcs out now…

Mostly just because I’m struggling trying to finish my sejanus angst fic and I feel bad

Title:Set Fire to the Rain

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Haymitch Abernathy x Fem!Reader

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District 12 had always been a place of despair and survival. It was a backdrop of soot and ashes, where life was more about getting through the day than living it. Amongst this grayscale existence, Haymitch Abernathy found himself in the same bleak routine: drunk, disheveled, and drowning in his memories of the past Hunger Games he had won so many years ago. He had long since stopped believing in hope, love, or redemption. But then, there was you.

You had always seen something more in Haymitch. Despite the walls he had built around himself, despite the self-destructive tendencies, you believed there was still a part of him worth saving. Your heart, though bruised by its own battles, saw his pain and wanted to heal it. For a while, it seemed like you were making progress. He began to drink less, laugh more, and sometimes, just sometimes, he would let you in past those iron walls.

But the Capitol never truly let go of its victors, and Haymitch was no exception. The memories, the nightmares, and the guilt were chains that he could never quite break free from. And on those nights, when the darkness consumed him, he would push you away with harsh words and cold silence, leaving you to pick up the shattered pieces of your heart.

One particularly stormy evening, the rain poured down on District 12 like a cleansing fire, a rare and violent storm. You found Haymitch in his usual spot, the run-down house that smelled of old liquor and regret. He was sitting by the window, a half-empty bottle of white liquor in his hand, staring at the rain as if it could wash away his sins.

"Haymitch," you called softly, stepping into the room. "You don't have to do this alone."

He turned to you, his eyes bloodshot and weary. "What do you want from me, Y/N?" His voice was a blend of anger and sorrow, each word a knife to your heart.

"I want to help you," you replied, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions. "I want you to let me in."

"You can't help me," he spat, standing up abruptly. "No one can. Not you, not anyone. I'm broken, Y/N. Can't you see that?"

Your heart ached at his words, but you refused to give up. "I don't believe that, Haymitch. I believe you can heal. We can heal together."

He laughed, a bitter, hollow sound that echoed through the empty room. "Together? Don't you get it? I destroy everything I touch. I killed them, Y/N. All those kids. And I can't...I can't live with that. How could you?"

Tears streamed down your face as you stepped closer to him, your hands reaching out to touch his, but he recoiled, the look in his eyes one of pure torment. "Haymitch, please. Let me in. Let me help you carry this."

"No!" he shouted, the bottle slipping from his hand and shattering on the floor. "Just go, Y/N. Leave me. Save yourself."

Your heart shattered with the bottle, the finality of his words sinking in. You had given him everything, your love, your hope, your dreams of a future together. And now, it was all crumbling down around you.

"I can't," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the storm. "I love you, Haymitch."

He turned away, unable to meet your gaze. "Go, Y/N. Before I hurt you more than I already have."

With a heavy heart, you turned and walked out into the storm, the rain mingling with your tears. Each step away from him felt like a dagger to your soul, but you knew you couldn't stay. Not when he was so determined to push you away, to drown in his own misery.

The rain poured down, a cleansing fire that mirrored the agony in your heart. You walked through the empty streets of District 12, the sound of the storm drowning out your sobs. As the rain washed over you, you felt a small spark of hope amidst the overwhelming sorrow. Perhaps, someday, he would realize that he didn't have to face his demons alone. Perhaps, someday, he would find his way back to you.

But for now, you had to let go. You had to set fire to the rain, to burn away the pain and the heartache. Because sometimes, the only way to save someone is to let them go.

As the storm raged on, you whispered a final goodbye to the man you loved, praying that the rain would wash away his torment and lead him back to you one day. Until then, you would carry the hope that love, no matter how broken, could one day heal even the deepest wounds.

Masterlist

Keys = 💚-angst/comfort. 🩷-fluff. 💙angst/no comfort. ❤-suggestive content. 🧡-ambiguous

Request guidelines

Avatar(the blue people)

Beneath the sea's gaze (Aonung x reader)🩷

Waves of destiny (Tsireya x reader)💚

Echoes of the heart (Lo'ak x reader)

🩷

Harry Potter

Nothing yet...

Twilight

Home with you (charlie swan x reader)🩷

Scream franchise

Haunted hearts and healing shadows (Billy Loomis x reader x Stu Macher)💚

Criminal minds

Unspoken words. Pt 2 (Spencer reid x reader)💙/💚

When comfort finds you (Spencer Reid x reader)💚

Industry Baby (criminal minds drabble)🧡

A cozy night in (Derek morgan x reader x Spencer reid)🩷

Resting in loves embrace (Aaron Hotchner x f!reader)💚

Domestic possession (Derek morgan x reader)❤🩷

Partners in every sense (Derek morgan x f!reader)🧡🩷

Shield of silence (Aaron Hotchner x f!reader)🩷💚

Tables Turned (Aaron hotchner x f!reader)🩷🧡 (pt2 for shield of Silence)

The Walking Dead

The shadows of sanctuary (Daryl Dixon x reader)💚

Bittersweet (Carl grimes x reader)💚

Mercy in the apocalypse (Daryl Dixon x reader)💚

A Fight for Survival (Daryl Dixon x f!reader) 💚🩷

The Hunger Games

Set fire to the rain (Haymitch abernathy x reader)💙

Crimson rain and golden sands (finnick odair x reader)💚🩷

Game of Thrones

Hearts Of Fire (Daenerys targaryen x f!reader x Khal drogo(slightly)🩷❤️

Divergent

Nothing yet...

Suicide squad

Nothing yet...

The Maze Runner

Nothing yet...

Charmed

Sanctuary in her arms (piper halliwell x f!reader) ♥️🩷

House M.D.

Nothing yet...

The Last Of Us

Echoes Of The Past (Joel miller x platonic!gn!reader)💚

Other fandom fics

Running Back To You (Pietro Maximoff X f!reader 💚🩷)

Analysis section:

Sydney Prescott x Stu Macher

Crimson Rain and Golden Sands

(Finnick Odair x reader)

The jungle air was thick and humid, clinging to every inch of exposed skin. The cacophony of sounds from unseen creatures echoed through the dense foliage, creating a disorienting atmosphere that made it difficult to discern friend from foe. The Quarter Quell arena was a masterpiece of cruelty, designed to break even the strongest tributes. And it was succeeding.

You pressed forward through the jungle, your heart pounding with anxiety. You had been separated from Finnick Odair, your ally and anchor in this nightmare. His reassuring presence was a balm to the constant threat of death, but now, without him, the oppressive weight of fear was almost too much to bear.

You stumbled through the underbrush, every rustle making you flinch. The canopy overhead barely let in any light, casting eerie shadows that danced at the edges of your vision. The memory of Finnick’s last words before you were separated echoed in your mind. “Stay safe. I’ll find you.” You clung to that promise, hoping it would guide him to you.

Suddenly, you broke through to a clearing and found yourself face to face with Johanna Mason. Her eyes were sharp, and she held her axe with a confidence that was both reassuring and intimidating. She regarded you with a mix of annoyance and concern.

“You look like hell,” Johanna remarked, her voice rough but not unkind. “Come on, we need to keep moving.”

You nodded, too exhausted to argue. Johanna was fierce and abrasive, but she was a survivor. And right now, you needed that strength. As you followed her, you couldn’t shake the unease that gnawed at you. The arena was a living entity, constantly shifting and presenting new horrors.

It wasn’t long before you understood why Johanna was so insistent on moving quickly. The sky began to darken unnaturally, and the oppressive humidity seemed to thicken. A distant rumble filled the air, growing louder with each passing second. Then, without warning, the heavens opened, and blood began to rain down.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. The sight of the crimson rain was horrifying, an assault on your senses. You could feel it soaking through your clothes, its metallic scent overwhelming. Panic clawed at your mind as you tried to move, but your legs felt like lead.

Johanna grabbed your arm, pulling you forward. “Keep moving! We need to get out of this!”

But it was too much. The blood was everywhere, and your vision began to blur. You stumbled, your strength ebbing away. The world around you seemed to warp and spin, and you could barely hear Johanna’s shouts over the roaring in your ears.

Your knees buckled, and you collapsed to the ground. The last thing you saw before darkness claimed you was the red-stained leaves above, swaying in the tainted rain.

---

When you woke, the first thing you noticed was the sound of waves crashing against the shore. The air was cooler, and the oppressive weight of the jungle had lifted. You blinked, trying to clear the fog from your mind. You were on the beach, the golden sand a stark contrast to the nightmare you had just endured.

Then you saw him. Finnick was there, kneeling beside you, his expression a mixture of relief and worry. He looked haggard, his usual effortless charm marred by exhaustion and fear. But he was alive. And he was here.

“Finnick,” you croaked, your voice weak.

His eyes met yours, and a smile broke through his weariness. “You’re awake.”

Without thinking, you pushed yourself up and launched yourself at him, wrapping your arms around him with all the strength you could muster. He caught you, holding you close, his grip strong and reassuring. Tears streamed down your face as you buried your head in his shoulder.

“I thought I lost you,” you whispered, your voice choked with emotion.

Finnick’s arms tightened around you. “I promised I’d find you,” he said softly. “I always will.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your heart swelling with gratitude and love. In that moment, the horrors of the arena seemed distant. All that mattered was that you were together again, and as long as you had each other, there was hope.

As the sun began to set over the horizon, casting a warm glow over the beach, you allowed yourself a moment of peace. The battle was far from over, but with Finnick by your side, you felt ready to face whatever came next.

Requests are open!!!!!!