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katnissmellarkkk · 3 years

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Hmmm I should probably wait another day to post part two of Finnick being there for Everlark / being their friend but I don’t wanna sooo. Here it is 🤗

I see my mother lead in a group of mobile patients, still wearing their hospital nightgowns and robes. Finnick stands among them, looking dazed but gorgeous. In his hands he holds a piece of thin rope, less than a foot in length, too short for even him to fashion into a usable noose. His fingers move rapidly, automatically tying and unraveling various knots as he gazes about. Probably part of his therapy. I cross to him and say, “Hey, Finnick.” He doesn’t seem to notice, so I nudge him to get his attention. “Finnick! How are you doing?”

“Katniss,” he says, gripping my hand. Relieved to see a familiar face, I think.

Finnick, who’s been wandering around the set for a few hours, comes up behind me and says with a hint of his old humor, “They’ll either want to kill you, kiss you, or be you.”

Just as the elevator arrives, Finnick appears in a state of agitation. “Katniss, they won’t let me go! I told them I’m fine, but they won’t even let me ride in the hovercraft!”

I take in Finnick — his bare legs showing between his hospital gown and slippers, his tangle of hair, the half-knotted rope twisted around his fingers, the wild look in his eyes — and know any plea on my part will be useless. Even I don’t think it’s a good idea to bring him. So I smack my hand on my forehead and say, “Oh, I forgot. It’s this stupid concussion. I was supposed to tell you to report to Beetee in Special Weaponry. He’s designed a new trident for you.”

At the word trident, it’s as if the old Finnick surfaces. “Really? What’s it do?”

“I don’t know. But if it’s anything like my bow and arrows, you’re going to love it,” I say. “You’ll need to train with it, though.”

“Right. Of course. I guess I better get down there,” he says.

“Finnick?” I say. “Maybe some pants?”

He looks down at his legs as if noticing his outfit for the first time. Then he whips off his hospital gown, leaving him in just his underwear. “Why? Do you find this”— he strikes a ridiculously provocative pose —“distracting?”

I can’t help laughing because it’s funny, and it’s extra funny because it makes Boggs look so uncomfortable, and I’m happy because Finnick actually sounds like the guy I met at the Quarter Quell.

“I’m only human, Odair.” I get in before the elevator doors close.

At dinner, Finnick brings his tray to my bed so we can watch the newest propo together on television. He was assigned quarters on my old floor, but he has so many mental relapses, he still basically lives in the hospital.

Finnick presses the button on the remote that kills the power. In a minute, people will be here to do damage control on Peeta’s condition and the words that came out of his mouth. I will need to repudiate them. But the truth is, I don’t trust the rebels or Plutarch or Coin. I’m not confident that they tell me the truth. I won’t be able to conceal this. Footsteps are approaching.

Finnick grips me hard by the arms. “We didn’t see it.”

“What?” I ask.

“We didn’t see Peeta. Only the propo on Eight. Then we turned the set off because the images upset you. Got it?” he asks. I nod. “Finish your dinner.”

“This is what they’re doing to you with Annie, isn’t it?” I ask.

“Well, they didn’t arrest her because they thought she’d be a wealth of rebel information,” he says. “They know I’d never have risked telling her anything like that. For her own protection.”

“Oh, Finnick. I’m so sorry,” I say.

“No, I’m sorry. That I didn’t warn you somehow,” he tells me.

Suddenly, a memory surfaces. I’m strapped to my bed, mad with rage and grief after the rescue. Finnick is trying to console me about Peeta. “They’ll figure out he doesn’t know anything pretty fast. And they won’t kill him if they think they can use him against you.”

“You did warn me, though. On the hovercraft. Only when you said they’d use Peeta against me, I thought you meant like bait. To lure me into the Capitol somehow,” I say.

“I shouldn’t have said even that. It was too late for it to be of any help to you. Since I hadn’t warned you before the Quarter Quell, I should’ve shut up about how Snow operates.”

Finnick and I sit for a long time in silence, watching the knots bloom and vanish, before I can ask, “How do you bear it?”

Finnick looks at me in disbelief. “I don’t, Katniss! Obviously, I don’t. I drag myself out of nightmares each morning and find there’s no relief in waking.” Something in my expression stops him. “Better not to give in to it. It takes ten times as long to put yourself back together as it does to fall apart.”

Well, he must know. I take a deep breath, forcing myself back into one piece.

“The more you can distract yourself, the better,” he says. “First thing tomorrow, we’ll get you your own rope. Until then, take mine.”

The camera pulls back to include Peeta, off to one side in front of a projected map of Panem. He's sitting in an elevated chair, his shoes supported by a metal rung. The foot of his prosthetic leg taps out a strange irregular beat. Beads of sweat have broken through the layer of powder on his upper lip and forehead. But it's the look in his eyes--angry yet unfocused--that frightens me the most.

"He's worse," I whisper. Finnick grasps my hand, to give me an anchor, and I try to hang on.

“You have two hours to get footage showing the damage from the bombing, establish that Thirteen’s military unit remains not only functional but dominant, and, most important, that the Mockingjay is still alive. Any questions?”

“Can we have a coffee?” asks Finnick.

Steaming cups are handed out. I stare distastefully at the shiny black liquid, never having been much of a fan of the stuff, but thinking it might help me stay on my feet.

Finnick sloshes some cream in my cup and reaches into the sugar bowl. “Want a sugar cube?” he asks in his old seductive voice. That’s how we met, with Finnick offering me sugar. Surrounded by horses and chariots, costumed and painted for the crowds, before we were allies. Before I had any idea what made him tick. The memory actually coaxes a smile out of me. “Here, it improves the taste,” he says in his real voice, plunking three cubes in my cup.

Haymitch’s footsteps are still echoing in the outer hall when I fumble my way through the slit in the dividing curtain to find Finnick sprawled out on his stomach, his hands twisted in his pillowcase. Although it’s cowardly — cruel even — to rouse him from the shadowy, muted drug land to stark reality, I go ahead and do it because I can’t stand to face this by myself.

As I explain our situation, his initial agitation mysteriously ebbs. “Don’t you see, Katniss, this will decide things. One way or the other. By the end of the day, they’ll either be dead or with us. It’s . . . it’s more than we could hope for!”

Well, that’s a sunny view of our situation. And yet there’s something calming about the idea that this torment could come to an end.

I want to run, but Finnick’s acting so strange, as if he’s lost the ability to move, so I take his hand and lead him like a small child.

"Oh, Peeta," says Finnick lightly. "Don't make me sorry I restarted your heart." He leads Annie away after giving me a concerned glance.

I'm unaware that my feet are moving to the table until I'm inches from the holograph. My hand reaches in and cups a rapidly blinking green light.

Someone joins me, his body tense. Finnick, of course. Because only a victor would see what I see so immediately. The arena. Laced with pods controlled by Gamemakers. Finnick's fingers caress a steady red glow over a doorway. "Ladies and gentlemen..."

His voice is quiet, but mine rings through the room. "Let the Seventy-sixth Hunger Games begin!"

I laugh. Quickly. Before anyone has time to register what lies beneath the words I have just uttered. Before eyebrows are raised, objections are uttered, two and two are put together, and the solution is that I should be kept as far away from the Capitol as possible. Because an angry, independently thinking victor with a layer of psychological scar tissue too thick to penetrate is maybe the last person you want on your squad.

"I don't even know why you bothered to put Finnick and me through training, Plutarch," I say.

"Yeah, we're already the two best-equipped soldiers you have," Finnick adds cockily.

"Do not think that fact escapes me," he says with an impatient wave. "Now back in line, Soldiers Odair and Everdeen. I have a presentation to finish."

Boggs told Peeta to sleep out in full view where the rest of us could keep an eye on him. He isn't sleeping, though. Instead, he sits with his bag pulled up to his chest, clumsily trying to make knots in a short length of rope. I know it well. It's the one Finnick lent me that night in the bunker. Seeing it in his hands, it's like Finnick's echoing what Haymitch just said, that I've cast off Peeta.

He weaves the rope in and out of his fingers. "The problem is, I can't tell what's real anymore, and what's made up."

The cessation of rhythmic breathing suggests that either people have woken or have never really been asleep at all. I suspect the latter.

Finnick's voice rises from a bundle in the shadows. "Then you should ask, Peeta. That's what Annie does.”

Masks go on. Finnick adjusts Peeta's mask over his lifeless face.

"I just murdered a member of our squad!" shouts Peeta.

"You pushed him off you. You couldn't have known he would trigger the net at that exact spot," says Finnick, trying to calm him.

"Who cares? He's dead, isn't he?" Tears begin to run down Peeta's face. "I didn't know. I've never seen myself like that before. Katniss is right. I'm the monster. I'm the mutt. I'm the one Snow has turned into a weapon!"

“It's not your fault, Peeta," says Finnick.

I shout a warning to the others to stay with me. I plan for us to skirt around the corner and then detonate the Meat Grinder, but another unmarked pod lies in wait.

It happens silently. I would miss it entirely if Finnick didn't pull me to a stop. "Katniss!"

#thg #hunger games #the hunger games #katniss everdeen #Finnick Odair #mockingjay #bookcomb ♥️🔎

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lemonluvgirl · 2 years

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New Chapter Posted

Chapter 25 of Promise Me Little Brother is up

Read the entire chapter on AO3

“I remember what she did to you the first time she spoke to you. You walked away with your hands all cut up and bleeding, not less than a week ago.” Darius remarks in an amused tone.

I shrug again.

“A lot can change in a short amount of time.” I reply vaguely.

“Enough so that instead of pushing you into vases, she’s now trusting you to watch her back? I haven’t seen her trusting of anyone since Hawthorne.” Darius challenges.

I look at him squarely.

“Katniss and I are friends. We take care of each other. And I’d never walk away from her like Gale did.” I declare with certainty.

Darius cocks his head and lifts one of his red eyebrows at me before stroking his ridiculous mustache passively.

“No, I don’t think that’s true.” He says quietly, as he turns back to look at her. She’s made it to the roof now, safely. I can feel myself growing annoyed by this guy, this older peacekeeper who thinks he can comment on my friendship with Katniss.

Despite how it started, and despite her reasons for agreeing to it, I know that we are friends. We must be. Why would she do any of this if that wasn’t the case? She could have let the peacekeepers handle it. She didn’t have to personally put herself at risk to help me. That has to mean something. But I know now is not the time to be discussing these things. There’s more at stake than figuring what is or what isn’t going on between me and Katniss.

But the red peacekeeper persists.

“Me and Katniss are friends. At least, as much as anyone can be friends with a girl like Katniss Everdeen. Katniss and Gale were partners for years,” He says, giving me a sidelong look, “and she never held his hand in front of people like the way she held yours outside the bakery.” Darius finishes, in a soft voice that is meant to keep the conversation strictly between the two of us.

I think about his words carefully.

“Whatever it is you and Katniss are, I’d wager it’s a mite more than friends at this point.” Darius adds.

#PMLB #PromiseMeLittleBrother #lemonluvwrites

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yespolkadotkitty · 3 years

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I’ll Be by Edwin McCain came on the other day and instantly got me into my Zach feels. Something about it was so him - the mood, the 90s, the flannel. The line “rain falls angry on the tin roof as we lie awake in my bed” in particular sticks with me. If you have time, can I get a little nugget of Zach? Fluff or smut, or fluff with a wee kernel or smut? I love your writing.

Right so as discussed you didn’t ask for a multichapter fic but as I’ve got 4 chapters so far LET’S DO THIS

So many shoutouts for this so here goes:

THANKYOU @kindablackenedsuperhero for this STUNNING BANNER.

THANKYOU @thestrawberry-thief for US library advice

THANKYOU @heatherbel for the beta and UK library advice

THANKYOU @knittingqueen13 for the encouragement

THANKYOU @pedropascallion for the library clerk advice!

THANKYOU @disgruntledspacedad and @alienprincesspoop for screaming with me about this fic.

Chapter One

Warnings: Scenes of assault, attempted sexual assault ~ Words: 1380

Pairing: Zach Wellison x OFC Martha Song

Walk with your keys in your hand and keep a key between each finger.

Watch your shadows and reflections - a split second’s notice is better than none.

If they take you and put you in the trunk, kick out the headlights.

These are all things girls are taught from a young age. Things I knew, almost unconsciously. Things that were smart.

But did knowing these things stop me from taking a shortcut through the park after the sun had set?

No, they did not.

I had my hand in my pocket, around the keys. I did not have headphones on - needed to hear if someone was approaching.

Usually, I did all the safe things at night. Walked in the road if it was appropriate, so someone would have to come out from the pavements and buildings to grab me. Stuck to well lit areas.

But, well, I was tired, and hungry for the Chinese takeout leftovers in my fridge, could already taste the sticky pork ribs in my mind, and I took the lazy, unsafe shortcut.

I’m sure the media would have blamed me for what happened next.

I heard them before I saw them. I turned slightly. Two guys, one wearing a beanie, another with his hood up.

It wasn’t even seven pm, but in January the sun set earlier, and darkness had descended, filling up all the corners that daylight usually illuminated.

I quickened my pace. I’m sure they’re just coming off shift.

“Hey, babe,” one of them called.

I glanced around. No one else in the vicinity, and the park spread flat enough for me to see. A single streetlight ahead beckoned and I headed for it, the bag of books from work on my back slowing me down.

I thought about ditching it, but: books. I value books more than anything. I couldn’t sacrifice them even for my own benefit.

“Not gonna stop and talk?” the other one called.

They’re just cat-callers, nothing to worry about.

It was just shy of seven in the evening - where the fuck was everyone? LA should have been busy, was always bustling, but I had somehow chosen the one time where this section of the popular park was empty.

“Come on baby, spare a little sugar?” the first one called. Their steps got closer. The second one was snickering and I felt the little mouse of fear skitter down my spine.

I clenched my keys tighter. Shouldn’t have taken the shortcut.

The streetlight got closer, and I watched it, saw the first guy’s shadow with a hair’s breadth of notice. I spun as he reached me, the keys poking out between my fingers, but I was scared and all my punch did was piss him off.

“Pretty girl,” he half wheezed as he grabbed for me. “Don’t pretend you don’t want it.”

I struggled. Under the streetlamp I caught a glimpse of the first guy’s face, straggly mousy brown beard, cold eyes. The pit of my stomach fell.

“Let me.” Guy two was at my back, hands on my waist. He smelled of alcohol and something like old food, and bile rose up in my throat. “Loosen up, baby, we only wanna make you feel good.”

I tried to shout, but the noise died on my tongue. Fear had clutched itself around my body and the muscles weren’t responding. My keys fell from my fist.

Help, I thought. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth as the first guy slid his hand down my body.

No, no, no.

Then suddenly a rush of adrenaline hit my veins - come on, what would Katniss Everdeen do? - and I shoved my knee up into guy one’s groin. Not as hard as I wanted to, but he cried out, a litany of swear words falling from his lips. I kicked out, but guy two was stronger, and had an arm around my throat before I could move.

“Come on now. Don’t be like that,” he cajoled, his sour breath licking at my cheek.

By then guy one had recovered, his face caught in a snarl, white skin pasty under the streetlight. I felt like I was in a sort of backwards ballet, a dystopian dance where there was no way I could make the right moves.

“Hey, assholes.”

The new voice, deep, with a bit of Texas drawl, made me turn.

A man, mostly in shadow, a large duffel bag by his feet, wielded what looked like a big section of industrial metal pipe.

Guy two huffed out a laugh. “Oh look, it’s the little soldier boy and he brought a new toy with him.”

“Let her go, man,” the stranger called out, taking a step closer.

Guy one had recovered from my knee to his dick. “Or you’ll do what?” He grabbed for me again, but he was distracted by my would-be rescuer, so I took the opportunity to knee him again, but this time, like I meant it, like my life depended on it.

He buckled, and the release meant I could drive my elbow back into guy two’s kidneys. He was stronger, through, and he tightened his arm around my throat. I grabbed for his wrist, scrabbling, barely noticing the stranger moving out of my sight.

“Duck!” He yelled, and I summoned all my strength to yank my head down.

In a moment, a loud thunk confirmed my suspicions, the sound of metal on flesh and bone, and guy two toppled like a tree.

Breathless, I turned to scoop up my keys, and stared at my knight in - dirty jeans. He was panting, his arms still holding the pipe up.

“You okay?” he asked, and I saw him clearly under the streetlamp, the glow picking out the gold in his brown-sugar hair. A patchy beard, more stubble than anything, hugged his well defined jaw. His eyes were soft, kind, the deep brown of hot cocoa.

“I am thanks to you.”

Below him, guy one writhed on the floor and, feeling too angry to think, I stomped on the part of him closest to me, his hand.

He cried out and I couldn’t have cared less.

“You wanna call the cops?” the stranger asked, but his tone was wary. As if I might have been just as likely to call the law about him as the attackers.

I thought it over. I’d likely be raked over the coals for having the audacity to walk alone at night (as if anytime after sundown could be counted as night) and my attackers would get a wrist slap. If that.

“Nah.” But I stomped on guy one’s wrist again for good measure.

He whined.

“C’mon,” Brown Eyes said. “I’ll walk you to the edge of the park.” He set the pipe on his shoulder and crossed over to the waiting duffle bag. It was the size of his torso. I took in his weathered, unshaven appearance, and wondered if the canvas fabric contained his every worldly possession.

I checked behind me, but the stranger was quick to reassure. “They won’t be back for a couple days.”

“You’ve… seen them before?”

He ducked his head, and in the glow from a nearby streetlamp I saw a faint flush of rose on his cheeks. “I’m... here a lot.”

He’s homeless. But of course I didn’t say it out loud.

We reached the edge of the park. People milled about, some queueing outside a deli popular for its pizza sold by the cheesy, greasy slice.

I didn’t miss the way the stranger’s head jerked up towards the scent of pizza.

How long since he’d eaten?

“Want some pizza?” I asked.

Something unreadable passed over his face. “I’m not a charity case.”

“Oh, but I am?”

His head whipped around. “What?”

“Did you come to my defence just now because you felt sorry for me? Oh look, there’s a woman of colour being attacked, gosh I feel sorry for her-”

“No, of course not, what the-” then he huffed out a laugh. “Touchė.”

“It’s just pizza. And a thank-you. I’m Martha.” I held out a hand.

He looked down at my outstretched palm for a second, as if surprised that I wanted to touch him. Then he shook my hand, his own large, warm, callused. “Zach.”

***********

Tagging: @thegreenkid @reluctantlyresponsibleadult @littlemissthistle @havenforafrazzledmind @myheart-pedro @john-in-the-sky-with-paul @idreamofboobear @rae-gar-targaryen @miulola @abuttoncalledsmalls @buttercup-bee @strangelittlenobody @qseomilk @jazzelsaur @songsformonkeys @mourningbirds1 @pajamasecrets @myoxisbroken @just-the-hiddles @skdubbs @nelba @badassbaker @nelba @f0rever15elf @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @mylittlelonelyappreciation @theravenreads @filthybookworm @aeryntheofficial @toomanystoriessolittletime @lannister-slings-and-arrows (Zach Pit) and @absurdthirst might like this <3

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seasonsofeverlark · 3 years

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The Shivering Days

Author: @rosegardeninwinter

Prompt: Lost in the woods with you. Cool air, leaves starting to fall, a little blanket of snow. You make a shelter, cuddle inside to keep warmth as it’s cooler now … enjoying it so much you don’t want to be found … because I’ve got my love to keep me warm. [submitted by @katnissandpeeta125]

Rating: G

Author’s Note: Thank you to my sweet sister Bethy (she doesn’t have a Tumblr) for doing a once over on this, as she’d much rather be watching historical documentaries. I took a little liberty with this prompt, and it’s a tad more angsty than I thought it was going to be. This story piggybacks off of this drabble, where Katniss and Peeta resolve some of their post-Game differences pre-Tour. You don’t need to have read it to understand this, but all the same. Enjoy!

___________

“Thank you, by the way,” I say. “I didn’t know how you’d feel about the woods.”

Peeta shrugs and buries his hands deeper in the pockets of his coat. “It’s fine,” he says. “It’s prettier here.”

Prettier than the arena, he means. It is that. We’re in what my father would call “the shivering days” where everything seems to flicker and waver and change more than usual. The sunlight, peeking out from a cloud bank for a heartbeat, then gone again. The leaves, quaking and trembling in the breeze, rustling like gossip. People, teeth chattering, hands fidgeting for warmth, always moving.

But for some reason, he liked these days, my father. I can remember him standing almost exactly how Peeta does now, breath a cloud on the air, turning a slow circle to take everything in. The leaves overhead are a purple kind of red — a rich, decadent kind of color I’m sure they’d love to replicate in the Capitol, but never could. There’s a light snowfall, not more than a wisp here and there, but enough to remind us that November is nearing. Two months until the tour — and two weeks since I found Peeta on the floor of his bedroom, disoriented by phantom pains in his lost leg. I stayed with him until morning, both of us getting cramped sitting against the side of his bed, and he’d wheedled me to stay for breakfast, as a thank you. We ate toast and milk in the awkward tension of estranged friends, but it became harder, after that, to avoid each other’s gazes when we met in town.

“Can we talk?” he asked on Wednesday, catching me on the way home to get thread for my mother. “Not for long. If you don’t want. But I need to say something to you.”

Flicker. Waver. Change.

“Okay,” I said. “But not here.”

Even now, I’m surprised he made the trek out here with me. Maybe I shouldn’t be. I know I shouldn’t be. A handful of poison berries says he’d follow me into the grave if I asked. Guilt squeezes around my lungs like a vice and I cough, pulling Peeta from his reverie.

“You alright?”

“Just cold. Here, let’s go down further. There’s a place we can sit. Out of the wind.”

Peeta smiles, a small smile, but it sends a hundred confused emotions rushing through me like a sip of strong tin can coffee. “I don’t know how you don’t get lost out here.”

“My father knew these woods like he had a map on the back of his hand.” I pull my fingerless glove loose and hold my hand up to Peeta. “We had the same hands, he and I.”

His hand comes up to brace mine, like an old superstitious Seam Granny doing a palm reading. Two weeks ago, I would have drawn away sharply, but I don’t. “So the veins are rivers,” Peeta says with a playful note to his tone I don’t think I’ve heard since the cave. “And the knuckles are hills?”

“Something like that,” I say, feeling the back of my neck prickle with a blush. Peeta lets my hand go. I slip my glove back on. “It’s only a short way,” I say, and dart a few paces ahead of him, trying to parse out my thoughts as I lead us to the little dry gully that will protect us from the wind — and from any surveillance.

What are we doing? No. Forget that: what are we? I was willing to lay down my life, my dignity, almost anything, to keep Peeta alive in the arena, but hurt feelings and miscommunication have us feeling like broken-hearted teenagers after a date to the Harvest Festival gone amiss, rather than allies who survived a deadly game together.

I pause at the top of the gully. It’s deeper than I remember. I turn to Peeta. “You might … do you want a hand down?”

He’d be well within his rights to scowl at me over the implication that his prosthesis leaves him any less capable — but he doesn’t. He nods and accepts my hand. I steady him as best I can with my slight frame, remembering another time not unlike this when I helped him drag himself to our cave. But right as we’re reaching the bottom of the slope, my foot catches on a branch and I go down, taking him with me. I yelp as I roll head over feet into a pile of yellow leaves at the bottom of the gully, and Peeta lands directly on top of me, half squashing the air out of me.

“Off!” I squeak, batting at his shoulders with my hands until I realize that his back is shaking. On instinct, my hands stop their assault and fretfully hover around his hair. Is he crying?

“Peeta,” I fuss. “I’m sorry. Are you alright? Is it your leg?”

He lifts his head from where it’s pillowed on my ribs, and I see that his eyes are teary, but with laughter.

“It’s not funny,” I protest, even as my own laugh escapes me. “We could have been hurt!”

“Oh, I’m fairly sure we’d have survived,” he jokes darkly. “Given our track record.”

“Peeta,” I say. The snow that was coming in starts and stops is picking up now, soft flurries coming down on Peeta’s hair. I don’t try to push him away anymore. The warmth of his body against mine is such a nice feeling, I push all the past months’ frustrations to the side.

“Sorry. I know that wasn’t funny.”

I shake my head. “That’s not what I was saying.” I take a deep breath. “What … what I said on the train … I never meant to hurt you.”

“No, Katniss. You shouldn’t be apologizing to me.”

“But I should.”

“No, you shouldn’t. You were doing what it took to survive. To help us both survive. It wasn’t fair of me to hold you to anything you said in the Games.”

“I don’t want you to think I don’t care about you.”

“Katniss,” he says, “I know. I know you care. I haven’t known you for very long, all things considered, but I get the feeling that Katniss Everdeen isn’t the type of person to sacrifice her life for someone if she didn’t care about them … at least a little bit.”

“Only a very little bit,” I say softly. His eyes are bright robin’s egg blue against the autumn tones of the world around us.

“Well then.” He sighs. “Can we be friends, Katniss?”

Flicker. Waver. Change.

“Friends.” It’s a weighty answer. I’ve never been very good at friends, and after what Haymitch warned me about before our interviews … being my friend is like painting a target on your back. But refusing Peeta won’t keep him any safer. We’re in the same cart, he and I. We held out those berries together, didn’t we? And it’s like he said. I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t care. Besides, he’s the only person in all Panem who understands what we went through. He was there. He helped me through it, held me through it. I’m not sure friends is even enough for what we are to each other, what we ought to be, after all that … but friends is a start.

“Friends,” I repeat, an affirmative. “Yes.”

Peeta nods, looking relieved. I feel the same, like a great burden has been lifted from me. Which is a little ironic given that I’m still pinned beneath Peeta’s—my friend’s—body. But I don’t try to move. Not even when he leans down and presses his forehead to mine. I welcome the contact. It’s soothing, steady.

He rolls away at last, helping me sit up. We’re both damp now, and our clothes are covered in twigs and leaves.

“We have to climb back up,” I lament. But I’m not dreading it. I have my ally back. I’m not alone.

“No,” he says, offering me his hand and pulling me to sit beside him on a fallen log. “Let’s stay a while. It’s quiet here.”

Quiet. He understands what a luxury that is too. My mind hasn’t been quiet since we came back. I crane my head back to look up at the trees. Red and orange against gray. Like fire against steel and glass buildings. I shudder.

“You cold?”

“Something like.”

“I get it.”

His arm goes around me and I sink into the half embrace gladly. Our shoulders press, our hips, our legs. I feel the anxiety in my body melt at the contact points, and I nestle closer to him. He smells of whatever he must have been baking before he met me: spices and sugars and … Peeta. Homey and comforting and good. He points to the foliage above.

“It’s my favorite color. Orange.”

My heart skips. Leave it to Peeta to distract me with something so ordinary as a favorite color. I glance back up where he points, and I don’t see fire in the vibrant hues. I see —

“Like a sunset,” he says.

“A sunset,” I echo.

“Yeah.” He bumps my side with his, playful. “Alright, friend. I’ve told you my favorite color. What’s yours?”

I smile.

Flicker. Waver. Change.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #autumn #autumn 2020 #rosegardeninwinter #submission #prompt

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ears-awake-eyes-opened · 3 years

Text

Cracked

(Hayffie ❤️. After rereading the first half of Mockingjay, I recognize book-Haymitch in 13 as the saddest, most tragic muffin in this or any universe, and he needs so much more of Effie there than the three District 13 fics I wrote in the summer. So here’s another one for my sweethearts.)

“People of Panem, we fight, we dare, we end this hunger for justice!” Plutarch had been the one to compose the line on the card in Effie’s hands. Less than a year before, she’d held other cards, on which she’d inserted Capitol propaganda into the children’s Victory Tour speeches. That kind of writing was within her skill set. Creating propaganda for a rebellion — correction, a revolution — was not.

That said, Effie was confident in her ability to coach anyone entrusted with presenting content to a public audience. ...Well, almost anyone. Historically, Katniss had been hopelessly uncoachable. Even still, even out of her element, Effie was determined do her best to guide her girl into embodying Cinna’s vision of the Mockingjay.

Effie stood in the studio, rehearsing the line in her mind as she experimented with different body positions and different speeds of the circular fans which were brought in to simulate wind.

“Let’s have her start down on one knee then stand up and wave the flag, symbolically pledging to the people of Panem and rising with them into battle.” Plutarch announced from the sound booth. “By the way, Haymitch has been discharged from the detox unit. He’s scheduled to be here later when we shoot the propo.”

Effie shifted into uncharacteristic silence. She hadn’t seen Haymitch since before she was brusquely ushered onto a hovercraft and taken to 13. That was weeks ago. Against her will now, her heart beat into her throat. For an instant, she brushed her lips with her fingertips, remembering the night before the Quell.

“This is good news,” Plutarch said, “He’ll be able to anticipate how far Katniss can be pushed without breaking.”

“Good news...” Effie echoed the words but they didn’t register because she was still caught up in the ones he’d said just before.

She fiddled with the edge of the cloth covering her hair, with the frame of her sunglasses, with the neckline of her shirt, with the bracelet on her wrist. Her hands refused to stop moving.

Plutarch noticed her restlessness and let it go on without mention. “It’s probably best if one of us brings him up to speed beforehand.”

“I’ll do it.” As soon as she said it, Effie chastised herself for her eagerness. “The prep team is working to build Katniss up now from Beauty Base Zero. With that tragic scar on her arm and the lack of proper resources in this cavern, she will not be camera ready for some time.”

“Fine. He’s been issued Compartment 307, vacated by the Everdeens. According to his schedule, he’s there now ‘acclimating.’”

“Well, that is convenient.” Effie relentlessly folded and unfolded and refolded the cue card in her hand. She steadied her voice. “...I suppose I shall go do that now.”

“I think that would be best,” Plutarch agreed, “Before you’ve folded Katniss’s lines into an origami crane or perhaps... a valentine?”

Effie glared in the direction of the sound booth, irritated with Plutarch for perceiving more than a *decent* person should. His chuckle brought her to her senses. She slipped the cue card into her pocket and made her way to Compartment 307 with deliberate slowness.

She took the stairs partway, sliding her fingers along the cold metal rails as she walked. Their yellow paint was one of the few bright colors in this cement and steel dungeon. She’d developed an appreciation for the handrails for no other reason than because they were something besides dingy gray or lackluster white.

She paused outside his door. Awash with self-doubt, she checked her intentions. Her eagerness to see Haymitch had nothing to do with the propo, of course, and everything to do with curiosity and concern about his mile-deep drop into forced sobriety. She knocked with the feeling of wild bird in her chest.

“He isn’t home!” Haymitch hollered in a hoarse voice, “The purple crap on his arm says he’s ACCLIMATING.”

“Haymitch... it’s me.”

Effie. Her voice was without its usual trill, like a canary in a coal mine singing softly at the edge of stopping. The *air* must be okay enough, because here she was at his door.

He slid it open and took in the sight of her dressed all in gray with a turban on her head and a pair of sunglasses covering her eyes. Not a speck of sunlight would reach this place, except the glimmer that squeezed through the cracks in him just then and lit him up. For the first time in weeks, months, years maybe... he laughed. The laughter was so genuine that it moved through his body like a stranger.

She furrowed her brow and pursed her lips in annoyance. “I think I liked you better before you were sober!” She huffed.

“It’s good to see you too, sweetheart. Do you want to come in? This sure as hell ain’t the penthouse.”

She slid the dark glasses down the bridge of her nose and tucked them into her pocket with the cue card. That was when she really saw him. The fine details of his face tugged the flapping bird from her heart into her gut. She sucked in a breath and held it.

Weeks before, his body had been strong, prepared for battle. The muscles he’d built up during the months in between the Victory Tour and the Quell had wasted away during his stint in detox. She stepped into the room and caressed his yellowed cheek. Then she breathed again. “What have they done to you?”

He closed the door behind her. “If I said torture would you believe me?”

She heard teasing in his voice and a sharp edge of truth. “Yes,” she answered without hesitation. She brushed her fingers over his jaw and down his neck. It was the path tears might take if she ever saw him cry. She smoothed the collar of the shirt that 13 had issued him.

He refused to call it HIS shirt even while it was on his body. For a moment Effie made him forget that the collar choked him and that the walls were closing in. Her touch felt so good that he joked a bit in order to hold onto reality. “I got the standard District 13 makeover for a drunk. I had my own prep team and everything. That explains the unparalleled beauty you see before you.”

Then her arms were around him, and the sensations of her were filling him up. She smelled different. No coffee or cinnamon gum. No vanilla perfume or orange shampoo. ...Just Effie, so slight with no 5-inch heels, no layers of chiffon, almost no makeup, no corset...

He held her loosely with his hands on the small of her back. He said nothing else and asked her no questions. He slowly lifted the tail of her shirt, learning again the feeling of her skin as he slid his palms up to the strap of the bra she wore. It was probably no more hers than their government-issued everything else.

He wanted it off. He wanted to get rid of everything unrecognizable.

As if reading his mind, she pulled off the knitted hat he was wearing, and she ran her fingers up the nape of his neck into his hair. Her nails were short, and he felt the tips of her fingers naked along his scalp, sending warm shivers to each appendage of his body.

“What are you doing to me?” His voice was ragged as if cut by a serrated knife.

“Plutarch suggested I bring you up to speed.”

“Plutarch authorized this, did he?”

“I had to see for myself.”

“See what?”

Effie had closed her eyes as she held him, but she opened them again and pulled back far enough to see the dark circles below his. So much gray. “I needed to see what your *prep team* did to you.” She masked her sympathy, knowing he would detest it. She plucked a kiss at the corner of his chapped lips.

It was the kind of kiss he’d seen her give a thousand times in the Capitol. The kind that meant nothing. Only it didn’t feel like nothing. Her mouth was naked too, warm and wet like a bottle of something that could slip inside him and burn on the way down.

She brushed her fingertips across his forehead, sweeping the hair away from his eyes. Her breath lingered at the corner of his mouth. “I just... I need—“

“Oh, hell—“ He caught her lips and drank her in. The feeling of her spead through him like wildfire. When they’d kissed weeks ago in comfort, it hadn’t been like this. Yet here this was.

“Ohh...” Surprised by the suddenness of arousal, she was drinking him in too. “Oh, my God.”

He perceived *need* as a dangerous thing. If he didn’t need anyone, then he hurt less when he lost them — and he always lost them. He felt it then with Effie, that dangerous thing creeping up on him. He heard it too in the sound that came from the back of her throat. A whimper, almost pleading.

He yanked his hands out from under her shirt and stepped backward, catching his breath. “I shouldn’t be bringing you into this.”

“Why ever not? And what do you mean by THIS?” She knew what this was for her, and she wanted his answer.

“I don’t know. ...I just know you need to leave.”

“But the propo...”

“I’ll wing it.”

She held her ground, searching his face, trying to understand.

He focused on the concrete between their feet. He didn’t dare look at her eyes. In his mind, he saw them filling with tears. He was barely holding himself together, and if he saw her like that, then he’d be gone... and so would their clothes.

“Get out of here, Effie.” He refrained from screaming, refusing to make this degenerate into something resembling a nightmare. “...Just go.”

In all the years of moments that came before this one, he’d never looked so afraid. He was right in front of her, but he’d retreated to a place within himself that she wasn’t sure how to reach.

She pulled the repeatedly folded cue card from her pocket, slapped it against his chest, and let go. He caught it before it fell to the floor. “Consider yourself *brought up to speed!*”

She slid the door open. “And by the way, you did not BRING me into this. Push me away all you want, but I’m IN this. I’ve been in this longer than you probably realize. And that will NOT be changing!”

He looked up, and her eyes were dry, like sapphires set in bone.

“If you want me out of this, honey, you’re going to have to kill me yourself, so consider carefully what you want.” Before sliding the door shut, she added, “I’ll see you in the studio when you’re done... ‘acclimating.’”

He stared in shock at the door slammed in his face. Then laughter erupted again from those cracks in him where she’d slipped inside and lit him up. Maybe the *psych ward* had misjudged his readiness to handle this place without liquor. But there was no way he was going back down now, not with Effie up here making him feel alive again.

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bethpeaches123 · 3 years

Text

Oh, it’s you.

So I had an idea rolling around in my brain for a little while, and then a real-life situation presented itself that was eerily similar to this, and instead of acting on it in real life, I’m acting on it in fanfiction form. Because it’s less risky, ha. Here’s some enemies to friends to luvers. I’ve also posted it on AO3 for your reading pleasure. :) Enjoy! I would love some feedback too!

“Thanks,” said Katniss Everdeen briskly to the Uber driver in the front seat of the red Corolla. He grunted his acknowledgement in response as her hand grasped the door handle and pushed the rear passenger-side door open, swinging her slender legs out onto the sidewalk. She leaned back into the car and grabbed the bottle of wine off the seat, then ducked out and straightened up, slamming the car door closed as it drove off.

Turning to face the towering brick townhouse belonging to her cousin Gale and her childhood best friend Madge, Katniss squared her shoulders and took a deep breath.

“You don’t have to stay all night. Just a couple of hours,” she muttered to herself. “That’s like…four half-hours. Or...six twenty-minute periods…or 12 ten-minute chunks…or…anyway, whatever. Just do it. It’s Madge’s birthday, she wants you to be here, just suck it up.”

The night wind suddenly swelled, a gust whooshing past her, stirring up a pile of dead brown leaves around her feet that had fallen from the maple tree on their tiny front lawn. She realized with a start that she probably looks a little crazy to any onlookers, standing on the sidewalk in front of a picturesque townhouse after dark, staring up at it and muttering irritatedly to herself.

She huffed and rolled her eyes. “You’ve gotta get out more, you’re losing it being alone in that apartment all the time,” she muttered again, before stopping and shaking her head. You’re doing it again; quit talking to yourself already and just go inside, she thought.

She adjusted the crossbody strap of her clutch (the bright gold colour was out of character for her, but it was a gift from her sister and the nicest purse she owned) and curled the loose strands of dark chocolate hair that had slipped free from her side braid behind her ears. Smoothing her forest green shirt dress down over her slim frame, she tweaked the braided brown leather belt around her waist and absently brushed a piece of lint from the right thigh of her black tights, glancing down at her camel-coloured heeled booties.

She wasn’t entirely sure of the dress code of the evening, but at twenty-five, they were still at that age of being grownups, but not totally grownups, if that made sense; they were old enough to legally drink the copious amounts of liquor they downed at one of Gale and Madge’s house parties, but they were still young enough to thankfully not feel the full force of a crippling hangover the next day.

Hopefully this looks okay, she thought. Who are you trying to impress anyway? Stop. Stalling, she grumbled internally.

Irritated was her mood of the night and the night was only just beginning.

Clutching the bottle of wine with the golden bow on the neck, she pulled open the wrought-iron gate and proceeded up the short staircase to the house.

Leaning over and pressing the doorbell off to the right of the heavy black door, she glanced up at the night sky over her left shoulder and her eyes flickered to the wind blowing in the trees again. It was a warm night for the end of October – so warm she’d left her jacket at home and opted for just the long-sleeved dress. It wasn’t like she was walking anywhere. She’d take an Uber home later.

Katniss could hear the sounds of an upbeat indie tune floating through the open living room bay window off to the left. Her eyes flicked back to the front just in time to hear a voice on the other side of the door, where it swung open to reveal the guest of honour for the evening.

“Katniss! Hey! God, I’m so glad you’re here – Gale was wondering when you were going to show. Now maybe he’ll finally shut up,” said Madge, her smile spreading across her face and reaching her arms out to hug her best friend.

“Sorry I’m late,” said Katniss sheepishly, squeezing her back. “Carl the Uber driver wasn’t as prompt as the app said he’d be. He won’t be getting five stars from me tonight.”

Madge’s grin grew. “No matter – you’re here now, that’s what counts,” replied the pretty blonde. Her eyes softened as she looked at her old friend, hesitating. “How are you doing? How’s…everything? After…everything last week?”

“I’m okay. Really. It’s getting better every day.” Katniss said, quietly. She really didn’t want to go into details right here, right now. Or ever. The evening was supposed to be a happy occasion, for Madge. Katniss didn’t want to get into the depressing details of the collapse of her relationship with her long-time boyfriend Darius a few weeks before and the messy division of their things when he moved out of their shared apartment.

“Good, I’m glad to hear that...listen, I know it’s not the time or place, so I won’t pry, but please, let’s go for coffee again this week. You can bitch all you want about how much of a douchebag he is, and I’ll happily reassure you how you’re so much better without him,” said the birthday girl wryly.

“Deal,” replied Katniss, a small smile on her lips. “Here – this is for you,” holding up the bottle of Nova 7 that she knew Madge loved. “I know technically I should’ve gotten you champagne for your champagne birthday, but I thought you’d like this more.”

“Oh my God you’re my favourite person, you know that, right?” squealed Madge. “I mean, besides Gale, but whatever – where did you get this?! I’ve been trying all the liquor stores around town and they said they haven’t gotten a shipment in ages!”

“I had it specially ordered from their website! I’m glad you’re happy – I love you, but I’m never going through that hassle again. Customs are a bitch,” grimaced Katniss. Getting the white wine shipped from Canada seemed a bit much, but 25 was a big birthday and Madge had been Katniss’s best friend ever since they’d been paired together in Mr. Heffernan’s English Lit class in sixth grade. She deserved to be on the receiving end of a splurge.

“Well, you and I are going to drink this together tonight – no one else gets a drop,” beamed Madge. “Come on, I’ll stick it in the back of the fridge so no one can get at it before we do.”

She stepped over the threshold into the front porch and started to toe off her booties when Madge glanced down and stopped her. “No, no, leave them on, they’re part of your whole outfit. You look really good tonight, by the way,” she said, appraisingly. “I mean, not that you don’t usually, but, y’know, dresses are kinda rare for you. I’m babbling. Ignore me. It’s the wine. Come get a glass or three and start drinking with me please,” pleaded Madge as she turned back towards the kitchen down the hall and spotted her new husband. “Gale! Gale, Katniss is here! Get her a glass of Riesling, ASAP!”

“Hey Catnip! Good to see you – finally,” smirked Gale as he strode down the front hall towards them, but Katniss could see gentle concern in his eyes. He didn’t think you’d show, she thought to herself. She mentally huffed at her cousin.

“Obviously I’m here, it’s not like I’d miss my best friend’s birthday,” she said, somewhat shortly.

“Oh – of course not, I know that, I j-just...anyway, I’m glad you’re here. There’s a taco dip with your name on it so I hope you came hungry,” her older cousin stammered, glancing at his wife for reinforcement.

Both he and Madge seemed a little on edge at her presence, like they were afraid anything they’d say would set her off in some way. She knew they were only worried about her since the breakup, but it still irritated her to think that their shared glances probably meant they’d been talking about her before she’d shown up. Katniss hated being the centre of anyone’s attention or gossip.

It’s not gossip; they’re concerned about you because they love you, Prim’s voice popped in her head. Her younger sister was always her voice of reason and regularly called her out when she got in her own head and complained about people being interested in her personal life. With Prim on the other side of the country in medical school at Stanford though, she wasn’t here in person to call her out. But Katniss knew her as well as she knew herself, and knew it was exactly what Prim would say in this situation.

Steeling herself and wiping the scowl off her face, Katniss offered Gale a small, embarrassed smile and said, “I was really hoping you’d make your famous taco dip. I skipped dinner specifically for it.”

A flicker of relief passed over his face and Gale turned and gestured for her to follow him towards the dining room down the hall as Madge returned to the living room filled with guests. “I even covered it in extra shredded old cheddar, your favourite,” he grinned.

“Mmmm, hell yes. Where are the chips? I’m digging in right away,” she said eagerly, following behind him.

As they bypassed the living room and entered the dining room, she glanced back towards the front of the house and scanned the crowd. There was already a decent number of people here, some faces she recognized like old college pals Rue, Thom and Thresh, but others she’d never seen before. Gale’s work friends, probably, she thought absently.

“Is Joanna coming?” Katniss asked, turning her attention back towards the spread of food. “I haven’t talked to her all week. I meant to text her earlier, but I forgot.”

“Yep, she said she’s coming by once she’s finished at the office. Some big case she’s working on or something,” Gale replied. “Let me get you that Riesling, I’ll be right back,” as he turned towards the kitchen, leaving her to focus on the food. Grabbing a plate from the stack off to the left, she started piling taco dip onto it, her mouth watering in anticipation.

“Yeesh, Everdeen – leave some for the rest of us, why don’t you?” drawled a familiar voice.

Oh no. Not him, she groaned inwardly, the flush of annoyance rising up her neck and spreading across her face. She stiffened as she heard him chuckle softly and reluctantly turned to face the speaker.

“Oh, it’s you. Hello Peeta,” she said politely. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Why? Obviously I’d come to celebrate Madge. Besides, would you have stayed home and not graced us with your presence had you’d known?” Peeta smirked.

“Hmm, something like that,” she replied, pursing her lips before continuing reluctantly. “How are you? How are Delly and Connor? He must be, what, three now?” enquiring after his wife and son.

“…Yeah, he’s three now. Three and a half, actually, as he’ll tell you. Time flies when you’re having fun,” Peeta replied grimly, averting his eyes from her face. Confused at his response, Katniss was saved from having to reply by Gale appearing to their sides with her glass of wine.

“One Riesling for the lady. Hey Peeta, what can I get you? Beer? Liquor? Something to wipe that sour expression off your face?” asked Gale, wryly.

“Beer is fine, thanks Gale,” the wavy-haired blond replied. “I have to have something that’ll help wash down this taco dip, if Katniss doesn’t eat it all first.”

Katniss scowled at him. “Chill out, Mellark, there’s plenty there. I barely took any,” she retorted. Grabbing her plate and piling on a handful of nacho chips quickly, she turned and carried the plate and her glass of wine away from the irritating man before he could respond. Fuck, he’s such a dick, she stewed. Why does he have to be related to Madge?

Peeta Mellark and Madge Undersee-Hawthorne were indeed cousins, but he was also a former classmate of theirs from junior high and high school. It wasn’t like he and Katniss were friends though – they couldn’t have been further from that. Complete opposites throughout their early days, Peeta was a popular jock who seemed to get along with everyone. Everyone except quiet, kept-to-herself Katniss.

She had no idea why he never warmed to her – she’d sometimes catch him staring at her across the classroom or in the hallways, but he rarely spoke to her throughout their academic careers. She’d usually shoot him a puzzled look in return, because that’s exactly what he did to her – puzzled her.

Stupid Peeta Mellark. Why did he have to be here? And where was his wife, Delly? Katniss hadn’t laid eyes on the blonde bitch yet, but she was sure she’d know when she entered the room because the temperature would probably drop to below freezing, just like Delly’s chilly demeanour.

Katniss was never friends with Peeta, but she never understood what he saw in Delly. What was the title of that book she’d seen in Barnes & Noble one time? Why Men Marry Bitches? Maybe someone should’ve picked up a copy for Peeta Mellark because he could use some psychoanalysis as to why he married someone so horrible. Though, considering what she’d heard about the elder Mrs. Mellark while in school, maybe someone should pick up a book called Why Men Marry Their Mothers for him instead.

She moved through the crowd towards Rue and Thresh, when a flash of short brown hair caught her eye in the main hallway. “Jo! In here!” she waved to the petite brunette in a black pencil skirt and crisp white collared shirt. Johanna was her and Madge’s former college roommate-turned-other-best-friend who was currently kicking ass working at the hottest law firm in the city. She was fresh out of law school and had to article for a year before she could pass the bar and be a full lawyer, but the partners at her firm were already so impressed by her drive and her no-holds-barred attitude, they’d already offered her a position once she’d passed the bar in a few months’ time.

“Hey Kitty-cat, how goes it?” said Johanna, snaking her arm around Katniss’ shoulders in a side hug. “Ooh, gimmie that, I earned a big drink after the freakin’ day I’ve had,” pulling the glass of wine from her friend’s hand and taking a big gulp, then grimacing. “Ugh, never mind, I forgot you like girly drinks. I need something harder tonight.”

“Wine is sophisticated, thank you very much. Rough day?” Katniss asked sympathetically, taking the glass back and swallowing a mouthful of the cold, sweet liquid.

“Fuck me, it was brutal. This lawsuit is gonna be the death of me and I’m not even a lawyer yet,” Johanna groaned. “If I have to read through one more brief, I’m gonna stab my eyeballs out and shove them down the managing partner’s throat.”

“Graphic, but okay, sure,” winced Katniss. Jo was never one to hold back with her…colourful language. “Here comes Gale – give him your drink order, he’ll get you sorted.”

“Hey Jo, want a whiskey?” asked Gale as he approached, sizing up the brunette’s irritated expression.

“You read my mind, Hawthorne. Make it a triple? Or will we all judge me?” Jo drawled, glancing at her friends.

“Nah, the night is young. We’re celebrating!” Gale grinned. “ice, right?”

“Yep, thanks. So, Kitty, how are you? Finally feeling free of that douche canoe, Darius? Jesus, I’m so glad that’s finally over. You were way too good for him.”

“I can always count on you to not mince words. Jesus,” Katniss shot back. She knew Johanna hadn’t been Darius’s biggest fan, but now that they were broken up, she didn’t hold back on voicing her dislike of him.

“Well, at least you didn’t marry him. Divorces are messy. Though, you would’ve had me as your lawyer and I would’ve milked that fucker for everything he had, so maybe it’s a bit of a loss. I would’ve enjoyed that,” smirked Jo.

“God, you’re unbelievable,” sighed Katniss, but she said it with a small smile. Even though her bark was bad, Jo’s bite wasn’t. Katniss knew it was her friend’s way of showing concern and care for her.

“Whatever, you know you love me. Hey, is that Peeta? I saw his bitchy wife when I came in but didn’t see him,” Johanna said, gazing towards the dining room.

“Ugh, yes. What a tool. I was barely in the room when he started harassing me about taking too much taco dip. I’m pretty sure every one of our friends knows that taco dip was made with me in mind – Gale knows it’s my favourite.” Katniss grumbled.

“Well, maybe he needs a reminder. You can tell him yourself, because he’s headed this way.”

“Ugh, fuck me.” Katniss groaned, her eyes rolling back into her head.

“Sorry Everdeen, I’m a married man,” smirked Peeta, coming up behind her, a bottle of Stella Artois in his grasp.

Katniss flushed at his response, while Johanna smiled blandly at the young man. “I wonder for how much longer,” she muttered under her breath so that only Katniss could hear. Katniss’s brow furrowed at the comment, but brushed it off. Odd.

“Ah, Peeta. Everyone’s favourite prick,” smirked Johanna as she raised her voice, her eyes flicking between Katniss and the tall, brawny blond.

Katniss snorted. “What a lovely description, Jo. Very flattering.”

Peeta shot Katniss an irritated look before turning back to Johanna. “Nice to see you too, Jo. How’s life at your hot shot firm? Madge tells me your bosses love you.”

“Yeah, I think it’s more so that they’re afraid of me. Which I’m fine with. Men need intimidation a lot more than they realize.” Johanna replied, smugly.

“Well, you’ve got that covered then,” Katniss piped up.

“Speaking of intimidating women, Mellark, where’s your wife? Still got your balls in a vise or what?”

“Jo! Jesus.” Katniss blurted, her eyes wide and flickering to Peeta to gage his reaction. She didn’t like Peeta, but she also didn’t like awkward conversations about people’s relationships. Or any kind of conversation about relationships.

Peeta stiffened slightly at Joanna’s remark and drew his mouth in a thin line. “She’s over there talking to some co-worker of Gale’s. She’s fine.”

“Really? That’s not what Madge sa-,”

“Jo, I think Gale is waving at you – he’s got your whiskey,” Katniss interrupted. If there was one thing that could shut Johanna up, it was the promise of liquor.

“Finally, be right back,” Johanna threw over her shoulder as she strode towards Gale in the dining room.

Peeta glanced at Katniss, a slight frown on his face, which she ignored. She was eager to move away from the subject of his wife. “How’s Connor? How old did you say he was again?” she asked, nervously. She realized too late that by drawing Johanna’s attention to Gale and her drink, she was leaving herself alone with the person she despised the most at the party. Great. Just when I thought I’d escaped him, I land myself in another conversation with him. Good one, Everdeen.

“…Um…he’s three and a half…what was Johanna talking about? What did Madge say about Delly?”

Katniss pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and chewed on it, stalling. “Oh, nothing. She just…she said Delly seemed a little off lately, that’s all. I think she was concerned.”

Peeta snorted. “Concerned. Sure she was. You’re a terrible liar, Everdeen,” he said, bitterly.

Katniss glanced at him again, thinking awkwardly about the conversation she’d had with Madge the week before. Madge had made a passing comment to her and Jo about Delly being bitchier than usual and said Peeta seemed withdrawn and moody. It wasn’t really Delly she was concerned about; it was her cousin. Peeta wasn’t a bitter person. But ever since he and Delly married a few months before Connor’s birth, almost four years ago, they’d all seen a shift in him. He was friendly to everyone (except Katniss, of course) but there was an edge to him that hadn’t been there before. It seemed to be getting more and more pronounced as time went on.

Why do you care if he’s out of sorts? She didn’t, really. She was just curious. Even though he wasn’t nice to her, he was generally nice to everyone else, so to see him so bitter confused Katniss. Not that she cared, though. Because she didn’t. Really.

“Yeah, well, ask her yourself then. Excuse me, I need a refill.” Katniss said shortly, turning and leaving him alone for the second time that night.

_________________________________

The night wore on, with Katniss managing to avoid Peeta for the most part, sticking to chatting with Johanna or Madge or one of their other college friends. When she noticed Madge’s wine glass empty at the same time as hers as they were both pleasantly buzzed, she said, smiling, “what do you think, Mrs. Hawthorne? Time to crack open the Nova?”

“Excellent idea, Ms. Everdeen. Would you do the honours?” beamed Madge, her eyes a little glassy by now. The two of them made their way to the kitchen, where a few other people were already gathered, chatting. Katniss pulled open the refrigerator door and poked her head in, searching for the bottle of imported wine, but didn’t see it.

“Where’d you put it, Madge? Did you forget to put it in?” she asked.

“No, it’s in there, I swear – you know I love it super cold.” Madge replied breezily.

“What are you looking for?” asked another voice.

“A bottle of wine I brought for Madge– ” started Katniss, turning around and stopping, her eyes on Peeta Mellark.

And the bottle of Nova 7.

The empty bottle of Nova 7.

“…what the fuck. Are you KIDDING me right now? Did you open and DRINK that?!” Katniss screeched. “Are you actually kidding me?? Fuck you, Mellark!! Do you know what I went through to get that for her?!” She could feel hot tears forming in her eyes, catching her off guard.

Peeta had started to smirk, but when he saw her face, he faltered and his mouth dropped open slightly. “I didn’t–I thought–Gale said there was white wine in–we didn’t–” he stammered, his eyes darting to his wife’s, then back to Katniss's. Katniss hadn’t noticed Delly off to the side, her hand clutching an almost empty wine glass.

“What’s the big deal, it’s just a bottle of wine, there’s plenty here,” said the blonde woman testily as she rolled her eyes. “Personally, I never saw the appeal of Canadian wines. There are so many better brands from Australia or Spain. Canada’s not even that foreign; they’re like, right next door.”

Madge groaned and launched into Delly and Peeta, shouting about the importance of the special birthday gift to the oblivious couple. Katniss tuned her out as she could feel the heat rising in her neck up through her face. She was already having a shitty day moping over Darius and didn’t even want to come to the party in the first place; she definitely didn’t want to have to deal with stupid Peeta Mellark and his stupid bitch wife; and the only thing she’d been looking forward to was sharing the bottle with her best friend.

And the two of them had ruined it.

She had to get out of there before the tears spilled over and she embarrassed herself in front of them. She turned on her heel and stormed out of the room without a backwards glance.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

#katniss everdeen #Peeta Mellark #everlark fanfiction #everlark fanfic #enemies to lovers

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everlarkficexchange · 4 years

Text

The King's Mistress

Written by: @eiramrelyat

Prompt #9: Katniss is a commoner and Peeta is a cruel king. He wants Katniss to be his mistress. How they fall in love is up to you. [submitted by anonymous]

Ratings/ Warnings: Rated E for sexual content and graphic scenes.

A/N: So this is broken up into two parts, the second part will be posted to AO3 😊 I had fun writing this piece, and the time period it’s set in. I can’t wait to hear what you think! Enjoy!

Katniss remembered being thirteen when she first saw the King of Panem. She stood with her mother and Prim in the town’s square amongst the other townspeople, waiting for the King’s Guard to step through the stone archway of the city wall. Fathers and sons, taken from their families to fight against a lost cause- unity with the southern kingdom.

No one rejoiced as the soldiers made their first appearance, their King leading the silent march with a reserved expression.

He was young for a king, barely seeing his twentieth birthday before being thrust into the role of a leader. Katniss overheard older girls in the market whisper how handsome the King was, and how he had yet to take a bride. But Katniss didn’t grasp what they considered so attractive.

His face already reflected the burden that came with running a kingdom. Hard lines creasing his forehead and black circles, casting a stark shadow on his fair skin. Many already detested him after six months of being under his rule, and some have attempted to escape. But there’s a harsh penalty for those caught beyond the city wall. The King’s Guard flogged you in the town’s square as a warning for anyone else that attempted to flee. Few survived the brutal punishment, and Katniss witnessed many die on the kitchen table as their mother struggled to mend their wounds.

The King moved further up the stone path, and more soldiers processed through the wall. Families reunited, the local blacksmith embracing his wife and two sons. A spoil, Katniss thought, to have sons only for them to be sent to military training camps at twelve. That’s what happened to Gale. Katniss never had the chance to say goodbye.

Bringing girls into the world was less troubling, to some degree. They didn’t meet death with an early grave. Instead, women had arranged marriages at nineteen. If a man didn’t ask for your hand, then the law dictated you to work in brothels or out beyond the safety of the wall to tend the fields. Any of those options sounded better than dying, Katniss considered naively.

She’d later understand the negligible difference that stood between dying and having your life in the grip of another.

Katniss’s keen eyes studied all the faces of the men walking on the path, none of them Papa. She felt her mother’s purchase on her shoulder tighten as wagons towed by a pair of sturdy men came through the archway. Thin cotton sheets blanketed large burlap sacks stacked high.

The shoemaker’s wife was the first to wail out in anguish, flailing against the King’s Guard that kept her from moving toward the carts that were being set on fire.

“Come on, girls, we should prepare supper.” Their mother turned them away from the scene in front of them, dismissing Prim’s questions about Papa.

That night, Katniss laid in her shared bed with Prim, whispering soothingly in Prim’s ear after her sister tore awake from a nightmare.

“It’s okay, Prim. You’re okay. You’re okay.” Her sister whimpered, sniffling away her tears. “Shh, you’re okay."

The moon cast a glow through their small window, draping a curtain of white light over their bed. In the stuffy calm of the room, it blanketed them with quiet comfort, easing away the grief they were all feeling. Katniss rubbed Prim’s back drowsily until the girl’s shoulders relaxed, her breathing regulating back into deep even patterns.

From the other side of the room, where their mother slept, Katniss caught the faint sounds of her mother sniffling before she choked sobs into her pillow.

That day was the last day Katniss saw any response from their mother. That day, Katniss decided that she hated their King for ruining her family.

~~~~~~

"Hurry up, Prim,” Katniss whispered gratingly.

Katniss gripped Prim’s hand tightly in her own, their palms slick from the light downpour. They kept their heads low, hidden beneath the hoods of their cloaks as they stepped past the iron gates to the King’s palace.

It was late, and Katniss didn’t want to risk being noticed by any of the King’s Guards patrolling the streets.

Her nineteenth birthday was a month ago, and she kept a low profile for this long. Part of her worried about what would happen to Prim if she left to work in a brothel or ended up locked outside the city walls as a working hand for the crops. Katniss had heard hearsay of boys around town commenting on how ‘well’ the youngest Everdeen had matured. Prim turned fifteen earlier that year, and Katniss would fight off any boy before she’d let them touch her sister.

Their mother wasn’t any help. Most days, she sat in a lifeless state on her bed, hardly eating. Katniss helped her, even though she resented her mother for giving up on her and Prim. She only ever moved to tend the sick or injured that came knocking at their door, the local wise-woman some called her. But the number of patients they saw dwindled after the last war. Eventually, Katniss had to find a new means of making coins for their family and pulled out her father’s bow and quiver hidden under the floorboards in the kitchen.

Nobody seemed to question how the Everdeen women made their keep through the years, and Katniss wanted it to remain that way.

The only person who knew was the butcher and his two sons. He never interrogated how she bypassed the guards that patrolled the wall walk. But Katniss found a hole in the slowly deteriorating structure near the North gate. An overgrown bush camouflaged the wall’s impurity, keeping Katniss’s secret hidden from careful eyes.

Thankfully, the butcher never confessed to his nosey wife that Katniss poached to put food on the table. Katniss would be dead, and the King would send her mother and Prim off to tend the fields. Or worse, they’d be another example for the townspeople on why you shouldn’t defy the rules. Already, Katniss was putting her family’s lives at risk for living in hiding as a woman at nineteen.

Rough voices sounded from the other side of the palace gate, and Katniss pulled Prim to hide in the shadows. Suddenly, the wet hinges on the gate screeched as one of the King’s Guard pushed it open, causing Prim to jump and grip Katniss’s arm. A small woman, with a dress torn to shreds, was tossed out of the opening. She landed on her hands and knees in a pile of mud, and a sob shook her frail frame.

“Get out of here,” the King’s Guard sneered, before disappearing and securing the gate once more.

Katniss didn’t notice Prim step out of their hiding spot, until she was out of arm’s reach, steadily moving toward the woman.

“Primrose,” Katniss said loud enough for her sister to hear. “Get back here.”

But Prim ignored her. Katniss sighed and cautiously looked around before following Prim.

The woman sobbed into her hands, and as they drew closer, Katniss identified her as the shoemaker’s widow, Viola Cartwright. She remembered the blacksmith’s wife gossiping about Viola losing the store with her being a woman, and no man wanted to marry a widow, leaving her homeless. Katniss overheard that poor women often sought the King’s Guard because they paid handsomely, but Katniss never believed it was true. Until now, that is.

Viola’s face, swollen, and purple momentarily stunned Katniss. She noticed dry blood caked her hairline, matting her hair to her forehead. Vomit colored the front of her dress in streaks… Katniss instantly felt sick to her stomach as she understood what occurred to the woman, and she startlingly felt very light-headed.

“Katniss,” Prim muttered. “She needs help. We need to bring her to mother.” Katniss didn’t react, her feet stuck. Prim shook her shoulder. “Katniss, we have little time.”

This brought Katniss out of her daze, and she responded slowly. “Okay.” She looked back down at the woman in front of them, a mix of anger and disgust pressing her. “Okay,” she answered more firmly.

They swept down and carefully lifted Viola off the ground. She cried, and fresh tears fell from her bloodshot eyes.

“Hurry, Katniss. And be gentle, we don’t want to risk hurting her.”

Katniss held her breath as the acidic smell of vomit met her nose, and they hurried down the short alley between the bakery and butcher shop that led to their house.

Prim pushed open their front door. “On the table.” Her sister moved plates out of the way, and Katniss carefully helped Viola onto the table. “I’ll wake up, mother.” Prim bustled out of the room, and Katniss started pulling out rags and filling bowls with water. She didn’t know what else to do.

Their mother came into the room a few seconds later; her eyes alert as she switched into healer mode from the sight of Viola on their kitchen table. She set her hand on Katniss’s shoulder as she walked by, her way of letting Katniss know that she could leave. Katniss nodded curtly and recovered her game bag from the crack between the hearth and the wall. Then she pulled open the front door and snuck back into the night.

The north gate wasn’t far, but the time it required to get there was longer as there wasn’t a shortcut that kept her hidden from late-night dwellers. Katniss tucked the worn burlap of her gamebag into her breeches as she made it to the large bush. She bent down and reached under the pile of brush where she kept her father’s bow and quiver, her hand searching in the dark, but all she found was leaves. In the grip of silent panic, heart racing, Katniss reached under the brush again. Nothing.

She left it right here, didn’t she? Her hands scoured the small area, small sticks getting caught in her braid as she reached beyond the pile of leaves. Still nothing. They were gone, that meant someone found out about the hole and took the last thing she owned of her fathers…

“There she is,” Katniss heard from behind her, but she didn’t have time to react before something blunt connected to the base of her skull, and she fell forward into a black abyss.

~~~~~~

There were voices, many of them, spinning around in her head at once. But one overpowered the others.

“I said, move!”

A hand shoved her forward, pulling her back into awareness. With nothing to grab on to, she stumbled, nearly falling to her knees. She blinked, trying to navigate her surroundings in the ill-lit room. Where was she? Black dots clouded her vision, but she distinctly made out the back of a King’s Guard uniform, the polished metal glinting in the candlelight. Fright consumed every cell in her body, swelling with terror as they led her down a dank corridor.

She’s in the castle; she had to be.

They stopped at a thick iron door, and the King’s Guard in front of her pulled it open, poorly oiled hinges squealing from the effort. Another shove pushed Katniss inside; this time, she fell to the icy stone floor, scraping her palms on the rocks there. She winced as she strained against the chains around her wrists and ankles to catch herself, the cold metal rubbing her skin hot to the point of pain.

“Try nothing, and I won’t slit your throat.” Then she heard the door latch shut, closing out any light from the room.

Her mind raced. Did they know who she was? What would happen to Prim… and her mother? Katniss couldn’t recall speaking to anyone apart from the butcher. He was the only one outside her family that knew her secret. Could he have turned her in?

Katniss scuffled into the corner of the room near a window, the heavy chains dragging behind her. Despite the guard’s warning, Katniss looked down at the shackles and tried pulling her hands free. But as she tugged on the restraints, it became glaringly apparent that she wasn’t getting free without a key. Her eyes considered the room for something she could use to pick the lock, but the place was empty, aside from a small drain grate in the middle of the floor that was the size of a rat.

Defeat bubbled in the back of her throat and burned behind closed eyelids as she pulled her knees to her chest. She’s told herself countless times to move her gear, or alternate the days she went hunting. But she pushed it off for too long, overlooking the warnings that swirled in the crevices of her mind. Now she put the only person she really held dear to her heart in jeopardy.

The sound of the door latch unlocking caused Katniss’s eyes to snap open, her heart hammering as someone fiddles with the lock on the other side of the door. A second later, it’s forced open, allowing light to filter through that hit the wall near her head. Two guards step into the room, followed by a full silhouette illuminated by the candles flickering in the hall. He stepped closer, and Katniss felt bile stick to the back of her throat when she noticed the whip that dangled from his hands.

“Get up,” he directed, his voice grating as if he were asleep only moments before.

Katniss tried to stand from her position on the floor, but the heavy shackles made it difficult for her fatigued limbs.

“I said, get up!"

He stepped forward, grabbing her chain to yank her to her feet, then Katniss was peering into the face of her childhood friend. Gale stared at her, unblinking, and the hard expression on his face dissolved, replaced by a mix of emotions.

"Warden?”

This appeared to spring him back, and Gale turned toward the guards, remembering that they weren’t alone in the room. “Leave us.” One guard looked at Katniss, pale eyes glued to the tear in her raddled pants toward the top of her thigh. A slow smile pulled at his mouth, sending a series of chills down her spine, then he turned out the door, closing it roughly behind him.

When she and Gale were alone, he dropped the front, but he didn’t offer her a smile or a warm hug. After seven years of being divided by the corrupt laws that ran Panem, their reunion wasn’t a festive one. Instead, he paced the short expanse of the room, his eyes glaring at the floor beneath his boots.

Katniss had so many questions, the first being why he never wrote of his return to Panem after training. She wrote him several letters over the years, without a single response in return.

“Gale-” she began, but he cut her off before she could finish.

“Damn it, Katniss!” He stopped in front of her, the muscles in his neck twitching. Katniss shrunk back from his unexpected outburst, she couldn’t remember Gale ever lashing out at her. “Don’t you understand the number of laws you broke?” He tightened his grip around the whip, the object looming like a weight between them. “What were you thinking?”

Katniss gaped at him. How could he berate her when he knew the hardships they faced as kids to survive? Anger bloomed in her chest, and she glared at him. “You don’t know what it’s like out there,” she hissed. “I did what I did to take care of my family!”

Gale gripped her shoulders firmly, his slate grey eyes penetrating hers. “Poaching is punishable by death, Katniss. There’s no way for me to get you out of this!”

She shook off his hold of her. “So, what, are you going to kill me?”

With his jaw set, he stared at her with pleading eyes. “This is my duty, Katniss. I’m the warden.” A loud knock on the wooden door pulled Gale away, and his lips tightened when the two guards came back into the room.

“The King is waiting, sir,” one of them said hesitantly. Gale nodded, and without looking at Katniss, he stepped out of the room as one guard pulled Katniss by her chains to follow.

She stared at Gale’s back as she’s led down the corridor and into a new hallway, the whip he was holding now dangling from his belt. Katniss wondered how many people he had used it on and if she would be another bit of spilled blood to add to the tarnished leather. She didn’t recognize this version of Gale. Where was her friend that played with her near the courtyard as kids? Her friend who joined her family for meals, who laughed at her jokes?

Or maybe it was just that. Katniss and Gale weren’t kids anymore.

She’s led down a series of corridors until they’re at a large stone archway that leads into a long room. Columns and statues of past kings and queens lined the walls, leading up to a simple throne where the King sat at the head of the hall, contrasting with the more intricate features of the room.

There was a dangerous air that surrounded him, engulfing the room in calculated conversations. Voices were indistinct, and Katniss could tell they were afraid to speak out of turn.

As they drew closer, she felt the King’s eyes follow her, and she tilted her chin to meet his gaze head-on. Gale is the first to kneel for the King, and the guards pushed Katniss’s shoulders to bring her to her knees. After a moment, the King nodded, and they stood up, leaving Katniss on the floor.

The King was the first to speak. “I thought you said this was the crime of a woman.” Katniss can hear the mockery in his voice, and she felt humiliated when she caught the chuckles that circled around the room toward her father’s old breeches that she wore. Her cheeks burned, but she never faltered.

He rose from the throne, and everyone grew quiet as he descended the few steps toward Katniss. He crouched down to her eye level and roughly gripped her chin between his calloused thumb and finger. Katniss twisted her mouth in defiance and tried to pull her face away, but his fingers held her fast.

The longer he studied her, the more self-aware she became under his piercing blue eyes. Up close, Katniss hardly recognized the King compared to the mental image burned into her memory from years ago.

His face no longer carried the effect of war, yet a hardness remained there, hidden under a smooth exterior. Blonde curls caressed his forehead from underneath the gold crown on his head, creating a halo of ringlets. Katniss chastised herself for accepting it, but the King was handsome.

The King dropped her chin and rose to his full height. “Bring her to my chambers,” he ordered the guards before he turned to ascend his throne once more.

Katniss’s throat constricted. She tugged on the chains as she’s dragged away from the King. Gale couldn’t even look her way as she’s pulled from the throne room and out of view.

The guards haul her through the castle until they arrive at a unique set of double doors, the royal crest embedded into the reddish wood. One of them began unlocking the shackles bounding her limbs before they seized her wrists and tossed her inside the room. They close with a resounding thunk, and Katniss heard the tick of the lock as they secure the door. She clambered to her feet, now faster without the restraints, and tugged on the handle uselessly.

“Let me out!”

Silence met her ears from the other side, and she beats the door with her fists. She felt hot tears marking her face as she took out all of her desperation against that door until she was tired and slumped to the stone floor. Katniss cupped her face in her hands, dry sobs tearing through her, as she awaited her fate.

~~~~~~

She sat there for who knows how long before she heard a rustling noise outside the bedroom door. The door opened, filling the room with an orange glow, and Katniss lay unmoving, even as her stiff muscles screamed for relief from the stone floor. What Katniss didn’t expect was the sound of heels clicking into the room, the sound seeming an inkling more comforting than the heavy footfalls her ears grew accustomed to. Yet, she reminded herself that she wasn’t safe as long as she was in the castle.

They came closer, and Katniss started from the small hand that touched her shoulder. She rolled over and stared at an adolescent girl that might have been a year younger than Prim.

“I’m sorry mistress, I didn’t mean to startle you!” The girl twisted the apron in her hands. “I was sent to assist you.”

Katniss swallowed her apprehension and nodded her head. “O-okay.”

The young chambermaid helped her to her feet and reached for the front buttons on Katniss’s shirt. Katniss jumped and recoiled from the girl’s hands, tightening her cloak around herself.

“What are you doing?”

She looked up at Katniss with frightful doe eyes, “I-I’m sorry. We need to wash your clothes mistress.”

Katniss’s grip loosened, but she didn’t allow the girl to offer her further aid in undressing. She peeled off her clothes, tossing them into the worn wicker near the maid’s feet, then she stood in the middle of the room, as naked as the day she was born. Thankfully, the maid respected her privacy and turned away while Katniss washed with the basin set on the floor.

She hung a robe over one chair, then the maid gathers the dirty basin and wicker, before hurrying out of the room.

Katniss wrapped the robe tightly around herself, allowing her fingers to run along the strings as she fastened it at her waist. Her heart was racing as she paced the rug near the hearth. She should have run for it when the maid opened the door, what was she thinking?

She’s about to sit on the bed as the doors to the room opened. Katniss froze as the King emerged from the opening, his gold crown now absent from his head. He disregarded her and moved toward the hulking chair in front of the hearth, kicking his boots off once he was comfortable.

Her feet rooted her to the carpet for a second, uncertainty washing over her. Katniss wondered if he expected her to go to him. Without urgency, Katniss moved from her spot near the bed, until her bare toes rested an inch away from the King’s.

He looked up at her, then, intrigued.

With shaky fingers, Katniss reached for the tie at her waist and clumsily untangled it until the robe rested loosely on her shoulders. His eyes immediately centered on the sliver of exposed skin between the valley of her breasts, and he beckoned her closer with a finger, bringing her between his parted knees. Strong hands floated over the material at her thighs, sending a shiver down Katniss’s spine. Katniss couldn’t tell if it was from fear or the unexpected feeling that brought liquid heat to her belly from having a man’s hands grope her.

His eyes never left her face as he brought his hands up to the opening of her robe. He smirked when she jumped from the contact of his palms against her skin. The pads of his thumbs traced patterns into her midsection before he leaned forward and pushed the material of the robe open with his nose. His moist mouth now in line with her navel.

Another shudder coursed through her.

“Tell me, sweetheart, have you ever laid with a man?” His deep voice vibrated against her skin, making her muscles spasm. She felt mildly embarrassed to admit that a man has never touched her before, especially to the man that held her life in his grasp. “Answer me,” he demanded.

“No. I haven’t,” Katniss gritted out.

A slow smile burned into her skin, and he nipped the spot above her belly button. “Good.”

The King freed her trembling shoulders from the robe as his mouth nipped and licked her, the delicate silk falling into a milky pile at her feet. Her body folded in on itself when she was unprotected by his judgment of her flat frame, and she brought her hands up to shield her breasts from his eyes.

But he pulled away from her, and the look he gave her made her begrudgingly bring her hands back to her sides. Two hands gripped Katniss’s hips and he jerked her forward, maneuvering her body onto his lap, so her thighs rested on either side of his. This left Katniss with no other choice than to grip his broad shoulders for support.

She tensed when the new proximity flushed their lower halves together, the growing bulge in his breeches pressing between the apex of her thighs. It sent an unfamiliar heat toward the base of her spine. The King didn’t allow her to hesitate, as one of his hands wrapped in her hair, pulling Katniss’s mouth down to his.

Katniss pushed against his chest, and he answered by swiping his tongue along her lower lip. Her lips remained sealed until he tugged on her hair, causing her to gasp. He took this opportunity to search her mouth with his tongue, licking anything the strong muscle could reach. She moaned in disapproval and bit his lip, the taste of blood immediately hitting her tastebuds.

The King tore away and touched the cut on his lower lip from her teeth. He was breathing hard, blonde ringlets covering his forehead, and a threatening look fell on his features. In an instant, he pushed Katniss from his lap, and she stumbled backward to find her footing.

He stood up and started tugging on the belt around his waist. Katniss’s eyes rounded with trepidation. “Get on the bed,” he ordered as he hastily removed his breeches, keeping his shirt on.

Katniss swallowed and did as he said, shakily climbing onto the mattress and staring vacantly up at the canopy around the bed. But he grabbed her by the hips and flipped her around, forcing her onto her hands and knees. She wanted to clamp her legs shut as he roughly pushed them open with his hands, her feet hanging off the bed.

Her heart raced, and her arms shook as she waited for what came next.

She jerked when she felt the King’s thick fingers ghost through her folds, and she groaned unexpectedly when he pressed the pad of his finger against a bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs. Katniss cursed her body for responding to his touch so voluntarily.

His fingers swiped against the nerves, each pass sending white light behind her closed eyelids. She was so lost in the feeling of his fingers, that she didn’t notice when he lined his cock at her entrance and pushed forward. Katniss gasped, forgetting the slight amount of pleasure she felt as he broke her natural barrier.

“Fuck,” he breathed, and he stayed still for a moment, his fingers continuing to move between her thighs. He didn’t wait for her confirmation before he started thrusting into her.

Katniss felt a different feeling low in her stomach behind the pain that still clung to her core. She tried to grapple onto the unknown sensation as he picked up his thrusts. She moaned into the mattress as she felt the tip of his cock brush against a spot deep inside her, her walls clenching. He set a brutalizing pace, his pelvis slapping against the back of her thighs, both of his hands now grasping her hips. With every powerful thrust, Katniss felt her knees slide against sheets, pressing her further into the mattress.

“Touch yourself.”

Hesitantly, Katniss reached between her legs, searching for the spot he touched only moments before. She swiped it once, the liquid white heat returned, and she gasped against her fist that held on for dear life.

“That’s it,” he growled.

He gave two more thrusts before he pulled out, and Katniss felt something warm coat her lower back. She heard him release a guttural moan before he leaned forward to rest his forehead against her spine. One of his hands still gripped her hip as the other rested against the mattress near her head.

They stayed like that until he caught his breath, then he pulled away.

He cleaned himself off before handing Katniss the soiled cloth to wipe her back. Then he pulled back the sheets and climbed into the bed as Katniss wiped away the sticky mess that clung to her skin. He turned away from her, not sparing her a look. Katniss stood there near the bed, slightly shaken from what she just did. Her stomach churning from the aftershock.

With a shuttering breath, she walked around the bed and gently pulled open the sheets. She pulled them up to her neck as she crawled under the covers, and she blankly stared into the darkness of the room, as she listened to the King’s even breathing.

~~~~~~

The next morning, Katniss woke up to an empty bed, crisp sheets returned to their neat state, seeming unscathed. If it wasn’t for her extravagant surroundings, Katniss would have considered last night to be nothing more than a nightmare. Still, the dull ache that throbbed between her legs and the damp remnants from the night before, clinging to her thighs, were hard to ignore.

Katniss peeled back the sheets, recoiling from the sight of blood that she found there. She’d overheard mother help youthful wives after the consummation of their marriage, assuaging their worries in the middle of their kitchen. Katniss knew what the blood represented, she wasn’t naïve, yet it surprised her it was hers.

She released a shaky breath, and rolled out of bed, gripping the soiled sheet to her chest. Katniss looked around the vast room that was larger than her house, fabrics of maroon and navy colored the furniture, and gold details littered the ceiling. Prim would have been in awe, she thought.

A small pocket door pulled open in the room’s corner, startled Katniss, and she froze, expecting it to be the King. Instead, the chambermaid from last night came into the room, followed by three older women.

Katniss held the sheet closer to her chest, feeling unarmed in her current state of undress, especially in front of the young chambermaid that wouldn’t look her way. She could hardly fathom what they thought of her, another whore to pass the King’s time.

The two older chambermaids walked up to Katniss while the other two tugged on the bedclothes near the foot of the bed.

A maid with bright red hair gently pulled the sheet from Katniss’s death grip and spoke in a soothing voice. Katniss noted her foreign English accent. “It’s time to get ready for breakfast, mistress. If you’re lucky, there will at least be porridge left on the table.” Then she helped Katniss from the bed. Katniss winced when it aggravated the pain brewing between her legs, but the maid’s hand steadied her. “It’s all right. It’ll pass with time.” Katniss wondered how many women they had witnessed in the same predicament, or if they have been a victim.

She wrapped her arms around her nude frame. Even though the chambermaids didn’t pay her any attention, she felt exposed and offered herself an inkling of modesty.

“Where are my clothes?”

“Ah, those tattered things are being washed,” the auburn-haired woman said. “Not to worry, we have something more, er, womanly for ye to wear for the King himself.” Katniss scowled.

A small washing tub was placed in the middle of the floor, then it’s filled with steaming water from a wooden bucket before one maid grabbed Katniss’s hand and helped her step inside. Another bucket draped frigid water over Katniss’s head, and she released a shriek in surprise.

“I apologize, mistress. These would have been warmer hours ago, but ye were sleeping.”

They quickly washed and dried her, then they threw a clean shift over her head. She’s tugged and prodded on until she’s dressed in a pastel blue gown, and her hair was neatly fixed in a high bun atop her head. Katniss felt the beginning of a headache from the many pins poking her scalp to keep her hair in place.

“You look lovely,” the maid with red hair told her, but Katniss didn’t bother looking at her reflection in the mirror. It didn’t matter how she looked.

She’s escorted down to the great hall, by the two King’s Guards that waited outside the bedroom door. The room was alive with chatter and laughter, nothing compared to the reserved atmosphere in the throne room. At the head of the hall sat the King. He had his hands folded in front of him as he observed his guests. Next to him sat a man with long unkempt blonde hair, a permanent scowl cresting his features. He talked avidly in the King’s ear, while the King blatantly ignored him. An advisor, Katniss figured. The King’s blue eyes caught sight of her as she entered the room, but it’s a cursory look, and he turned his attention back to the table.

They brought Katniss to a chair that sat next to the King and pulled it out for her. Katniss stared down at it grudgingly, growing attention for herself.

“Would you prefer a different chair,” asked one servant, then Katniss sensed the reproachful stare sent her way from a pair of blue eyes.

She shook her head, “no, this is fine, thank you.”

Her eyes surveyed the selection of food on the table, her mouth-watering from the sight. Katniss swallowed the urge to stack her plate and reached for a lone roll from one of the many platters. But a servant covered her plate with fruit and cooked potatoes.

“Eat,” the King ordered, not looking at her.

There were some hushed whispers from the scene she caused, and Katniss slowly picked up one of her forks, piercing a diced melon on her plate. Their house only had five utensils that their mother kept tucked away in a drawer she didn’t use for patients. Out of the five, they used only three for eating. She knew she probably wasn’t using the proper fork, but no one slapped her on the wrist to tell her otherwise. So she figured it was okay, or they didn’t care enough to correct her.

Eventually, the people at the table forgot about her attendance and continued onward with their crowded conversations.

She picked at her plate quietly as she listened to the old man near the King grumble.

“I told you it was foolish to invite her to breakfast.” The King grunted in return, and it wasn’t clear if he agreed with him or not. “How are you going to find a bride when they see your whore sitting at your side,” the man continued. Katniss sensed the King freeze; that’s when Katniss strived to tune out their voices.

After the sixth insult from the King’s advisor, Katniss finally lost her appetite. She chewed on her roll until it became a concrete wad in her mouth, forcing her to swallow it down with a glass of wine. Then she pushed away from the table, yet a hand on her knee halted her.

“You will not leave until I tell you to do so,” the King said unwaveringly, his eyes fixed on the cooked potatoes and sausage in front of him.

Katniss wanted to shove his hand from her knee, but she knew better. She sniffed defiantly and stabbed a potato on her plate, biting back a retort, and she sat quietly for the rest of the meal.

~~~~~~

After the King dismissed her from the table, Katniss doesn’t see him for the rest of the day. The same guards escorted her back to the King’s chambers, before leaving her to herself.

She spent that alone time staring out the tall balcony window toward the courtyard below. She remained there for hours, doing by the protests of her sore feet. Katniss quietly planned her escape as she stared out that window, counting the number of guards that patrolled the area, or when they rotated. But the castle itself was more heavily guarded compared to the town outside its gates. An escape deemed itself impossible.

Katniss wandered away from the window after some time, noticing a worn book sitting atop a chest of drawers near the bed. The pages crumpled at the edges from overuse and the initials P. M. marked the binding. Curious, Katniss reached for it, but the doors to the room pushed open abruptly, seizing her movements.

She spun around to find the King stumbling into the room, his footing sloppy, and he slightly teetered. Katniss instantly noticed splatters of blood on his armor; fresh and translucent as the flames from the hearth reflected off the droplets running slowly down his breastplate. She felt her hands tremble at her sides; she wondered whose blood it was- if it was someone she knew.

He ignored her and stumbled toward the mantle, reaching for a bottle of wine that sat there. He doesn’t pour himself a glass. Instead, he throws back one long gulp of the darkened liquid before sending the empty bottle into the hearth. The delicate glass shattered on impact, and the flames grew, fueled by the alcohol that now stained its walls.

Katniss watched as he loosened the belt around his waist, before throwing it on his chair with a heavy plunk. Then he placed his hands against the mantle, staring blankly into the flames below.

He pushed back a few curly strands that rested against his forehead, only to have them fall back into his eyes. Katniss wasn’t sure what to do, her heart palpitating painfully in her chest. She feared his anger would strive toward her if she said anything, so she stayed quiet. But he veered his head, then, and guarded Katniss against the other side of the room.

“Come here,” he demanded.

Katniss hesitantly moved from her spot near the corner of the room, her knees wobbling, making her trip on the thick rug beneath her feet. The King released an impatient sigh and grabbed her wrist to pull her the rest of the way. Her heart thudded when she was merely a breath apart from him, the smell of blood and alcohol pungent, causing her stomach to stir. He was drunk, and this made him more dangerous.

“Undress me.” He released her wrist and waited for her to follow his instructions, his blue eyes staring through her.

Anger brewed underneath her fear, exhausted against his constant demands, and her hands balled into fists at her sides. “N-no,” she faltered. “No. I’m not your puppet.”

The corners of his mouth curled dangerously. “So, the street whore has a backbone.” He tugged the black gloves from his hands.

Katniss set her jaw at his taunts. “You know nothing about me. How can you belittle me when I’ve witnessed countless people die under your reign?” She waited for him to kill her, where she stood.

In a split second, he shoved all the liquor off of the mantle, prompting Katniss to jump. Glass littered the floor at their feet, glistening bright red from the wine. His chest heaved as he looked down at the mess, then he turned on his heel and stormed toward the door, leaving a shaken Katniss behind.

She took a ragged breath, and moved away from the broken glass, refusing to clean the mess that he created. In a daze, she wandered over to the bed, but an object reflecting from the corner of her eye made her turn her head. There, on his chair, laid his dagger still attached to his belt.

Katniss immediately snatched it and tucked it away underneath the bed where the chambermaids wouldn’t find it.

~~~~~~

Two weeks go by, since that night. And each night is the same. Katniss laid in bed until the King came into the room, and he used her body until he collapsed in a sweaty pile against the silk sheets. Then he’d clean himself off and roll over to fall asleep. Neither of them talked, and Katniss did her best to avoid him when they weren’t fucking.

Gradually, she ran on autopilot and went with the motions from day to day, unsure of one day to the next.

But today differed from the others. Everyone in the castle gathered down in the courtyard, and Katniss followed the guards in front of her aimlessly, ignoring the few stray stares she received from noblewomen. She wandered over to the end of the courtyard where the young chambermaid stood, the girl offering Katniss a polite smile which Katniss returned.

A clergy stood in the space in the courtyard, a roll of parchment gripped between two brittle hands. Katniss missed the beginning of the proceedings and turned toward the young chambermaid.

“What is going on,” Katniss whispered.

The girl’s eyes widened in surprise, and she looked at the two guards next to Katniss, before answering quickly, “a warden is being punished for disobeying our King.”

That’s when a topless man with a sack over his head came into view, the King trailing after them, a whip dangling from his hands. Guards tied the man to a wooden post mounted in the center, his back facing toward the crowd.

“… Twenty lashes."

Katniss looked away as the whip in the King’s hand raised and connected to flesh in one fluid motion, the sound echoing against the stone pillars. A cry tore through the masked man as he took lash after lash until the sack on his head fell off from him, thrashing against his restraints. It only took Katniss a second to apprehend who it was, and her eyes swelled in horror.

"No,” she yelled as another lash connected with Gale’s bared back, breaking through the skin this time. Blood dripped down his olive skin in rivulets.

The King raised his hand again for another blow, and Katniss ran out into the courtyard to stop him. A string of gasps from the crowd following her. “Stop!” But the King doesn’t hear her in time before the whip connected with the top of her cheek. She cried out in pain, feeling the very ends of the leather break open the skin, and she cupped her face, her vision now spotted.

“What is she doing here,” the King barked to one of the guards. “Get her out of here!” Then they dragged her away, locking her back up in the King’s chambers. Chambermaids come in moments later and tend to the wound that festered on her cheek.

Later that night, Katniss grabbed the dagger she hid under the bed and tucked it against her side. After they retired for the night, Katniss squeezed the handle in her hands, her fingers trembling with the adrenaline coursing through her veins. She watched the King’s back move in time with his even breathing. Up. Down. Up. Down. Katniss lifted the heavy dagger, ready to finally attain her freedom, but she faltered the longer she stared at him. Sweat covered her brow. Do it.

“What’s stopping you, sweetheart?”

She started. The dagger fell from her hand and clattered to the stone floor, reverberating loudly throughout the quiet room. The King turned to face her, poised eyes rooting her to the mattress.

“What’s stopping you,” he urged again. Katniss shifted to get up from the bed, but he roughly grabbed her wrists, hindering her escape. “I flogged your friend, I could have killed him. I hit you today. Why not get your revenge?”

Katniss attempted to pull her hands free, already feeling bitter tears prick the corner of her eyes. “Let me go!"

"Answer me.”

She didn’t and proceeded to hit him with her free hand, but he bound it against his chest with the other. “I hate you!” She spewed insults at him and tried kicking him with her legs. He wrestled her fighting limbs until he had her pinned to the bed with his body between her legs, her wrists caught in his giant hand above her head.

“Answer me,” his voice is now sharp.

To evade his stare, she turned her face into her arm, and she cursed the first couple of tears that fell. “If I killed you, then there would be nothing to set me apart from you.”

He was quiet for a second, the only sound being his steady breathing. After a moment, his voice breaks the silence in the room, deep and unyielding. “You intervened with the King’s Court today, and it didn’t go unseen…” He paused. “There are rules we must follow to keep order in the kingdom. I do what is asked of me as a king, as a leader to my people. I can’t allow laws to be broken and disregarded.”

Katniss felt his cock twitch against her thigh, and she waited for him to use her body, her eyes tightly closed. Yet… he didn’t. She tensed when she felt his lips ghost the top of her cheek, where the cut already scabbed over, before rolling over to his side of the bed. It was so soft Katniss wasn’t sure that it happened at all. Moments later, Katniss heard the soft snores that left his mouth.

Hours passed, and Katniss laid there, stock still, her mind restless. She couldn’t make sense of what transpired, and she finally grew exhausted around sunrise as the King rose and left the room.

~~~~~~

Katniss was no longer allowed to leave the King’s chamber after the incident with Gale. She was brought two meals every day that she hardly touched, slowly she felt her snug clothes lose their grip on her slender figure from her decreased appetite. The chambermaids never commented on her change in weight as they helped her dress for the day. And frequently, they were in and out of the room in less than half an hour.

Eventually, the King had other matters he needed to attend to and left unexpectedly one morning before Katniss rose. During his absence, Katniss found herself mildly relaxed without his presence hovering in the room. As a mistress, she wasn’t allowed to inquire about matters that didn’t concern her. Still, she wouldn’t have questioned his absence, regardless.

Throughout the day, Katniss would read the few books strategically placed around the room. And at night, Katniss rested near the hearth and stared vacantly into the flames that licked and burned everything in its path. As lonely as she became, she wasn’t entirely alone.

The young chambermaid came every morning to change the linens, and every evening to pour boiling water into the large metal tub. Katniss slept in the chair near the hearth and stuck to the metal basin to wash up at night, so she deemed it futile for the girl to come twice a day.

One day, Katniss took it upon herself to talk to the chambermaid as the girl busied herself around the room, cleaning nonexistent dust from surfaces.

“You can talk to me, you know,” Katniss said into her book, but she directed her words toward the youthful girl across the room.

For a second, she didn’t answer, yet the quiet shuffling against the floor came to a halt. “Thank you, mistress,” she heard her mumble.

Katniss moved the book from her face to stare at the girl across the room. She twisted a dirty rag between her hands, avoiding Katniss. Katniss hesitated at first, before saying, “you can call me Katniss. I’d prefer it, actually.” She has heard no one call her by her name in months, and she realized it was bothering her.

The girl wavered Katniss’s request, “I shouldn’t, I don’t think my King-” Katniss cut her off.

“It’ll be our secret.” The girl noticeably eased at this but wound the dirty rag between her hands. “It’s okay, he’s not here. When it’s you and me, you can call me Katniss.”

She set the rag down on the table she was dusting. “Uh, my name is Rue.”

Katniss nodded, saying Rue’s name back to herself in her head. “Like the plant.”

Rue’s eyebrows lifted. “How did you know?”

Katniss looked down at the book in her hands, unable to bask in the fact that she remembered one thing from her mother’s plant books. “My mother is a wise-woman. She studies plants and their healing properties.”

“My mother never taught me how to read,” Rue’s cheeks grew a shade darker. It wasn’t unheard of to have daughters that didn’t know how to read, most women were forbidden to learn how to read or write. Instead, elders taught them how to be a mother and a proper wife. Katniss was lucky that her parents never followed this principle.

“I can teach you,” Katniss suggested.

Rue gave a radiant smile, her enthusiasm reminding Katniss of Prim again. “Really?” Then her smile fell. “Wait, I shouldn’t-”

“Our secret,” Katniss said again. They shared a slight smile, and Katniss felt that she subsequently made a friend.

The next two days, Katniss and Rue sat on the couch near the hearth after Rue finished bustling around the room. Katniss taught Rue simple words and how to write her name before Rue retired to the servant’s quarters for the night.

Katniss started to eat again, mainly when Rue came to the room for her daily lesson. She even offered her the salted meat and potatoes that she couldn’t finish by herself. Rue declined, but Katniss insisted.

On the third night, she taught Rue how to write sentences, starting with short three-word sentences before adding the fourth word. Katniss wasn’t the most helpful with teaching. Still, Rue never mentioned it and made everything easier by asking questions when she found a word challenging.

When they finished Rue’s lesson, Katniss discarded the used parchment in the fire, destroying any evidence of their private sessions. But before Rue left for the night, Katniss had a question she wanted to ask ever since their first lesson.

“Rue,” Katniss rose, catching the girl’s attention. Rue looked over, two large pales in her hands. “I’ve never heard of anyone with the family name Abell in Panem.”

Rue nodded, dark little ringlets bouncing atop her head. “I’m not from Panem. I’m from a village in the southern kingdom.”

Katniss’s eyes widened from the revelation. The King didn’t take prisoners from other kingdoms. Katniss remembered the stories that circled around the market of the King, beheading anyone in his path during the war. “But… how?”

“My village was destroyed by a band of marauders. I was the only survivor.” Rue looked down at the floor, a faraway look masking her youthful features.

Katniss ran a hand through her loose braid, feeling remorseful for her friend. “I’m sorry Rue, I shouldn’t have asked.”

Rue shook her head. “It’s okay. He could have left me to die, killed me, yet he saved me.” She looked over at Katniss and offered her a kind smile. “Goodnight, Katniss.” Then Rue gathered her things and retreated from the room.

After her conversation with Rue, Katniss reflected on the recent information provided to her, and she concluded that the King held many secrets that she wasn’t sure she wanted to meddle in.

#Springtime Edition 2020 #eiramrelyat #prompt 9 #submission

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everlarkbirthdaygifts · 4 years

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Happy Birthday, elricsister!

Apologies for the delay, @elricsister (my bad!). We hope you had a wonderful day yesterday, surrounded by loved ones, and topped off with delicious cake! To bring your party back, the lovely @historywriter2007 has written a story just for you!

A/N: Happy Birthday Elricsister! I hope you are having a great day! I had you for the Secret Santa exchange and had an idea for this one, but I went with the more Christmasy prompt. I’m glad I got to put this together for you. I choose the song El Tango de Roxanne from Mulan Rouge, I thought it sounded angsty enough for an enemies to lovers story. Hope you enjoy it.

Two to Tango

Rated T (suggestive)

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Katniss took a deep breath as the other team finished their act, of course, they would go last, just one more way this entire situation screwed her over. It had been her second season as a dancer on Dancing with the Capital. She was thankful for the opportunity to be on the show, especially since it paid for her sister to go to college and for once they both had plenty. Unlike many of the other dancers, Katniss had to rely on herself to learn since she had to quit lessons at 11-years-old when her father died. At least she had enough of a base to continue, not to mention the Capital loved a survival story, as the producers put it. She should have known things would not be in her favor when it was announced that the powers that be wanted to add a show to the very end of their season.

Less than a week before they pulled everyone together to announce the additional episode, it would be a dance-off between the dancers, instead of the Capital darlings. They would all be paired at random, then given the song, it would be up to them to come up with the dance. The winners would get a bonus, something Katniss would be able to put away for Prim to use. She quietly prayed to be set up with anyone besides him, but of course, the first two names picked were Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like Peeta, in fact, she hated Peeta. He had started the same year she did, and at first, she thought they could be friends, but he showed his strips in the first few weeks. As soon as his dance partner, Cashmere showed up. He also bragged about the new movie deal he had received, some stupid action movie where he would undoubtedly show off his muscular arms and chiseled stomach, not that she noticed any of that. Things only got worse when Haymitch, one of the producers, showed up to tell them what song they had to dance to. El Tango De Roxanne, they thought it would be great to do a nod to “Old Hollywood” since he was now going to be a movie star. Haymitch reminded them that the Tango was filled with passion, and hatred would be just fine, then he laughed as Katniss scowled at him, apparently, everyone knew how much they hated each other.

She felt his presence before he spoke, “Do you want me to say something to piss you off before we go out there? You seem to do better when you’re especially angry at me.”

Katniss turned to look at him, for a moment she forgot herself as she took in his outfit. Black pants that stretched over his strong thighs, she was sure his ass looked great too, and a white shirt with only a couple of buttons done. Her eyes finally reached his face and found his giving her a smirk, “Just you being here is enough to piss me off.”

The could hear the judges telling Clove and Cato how they had done, any moment they would be introduced. Peeta’s face seemed to soften a bit, “One more time? For the crowd?”

She smiled back and nodded just as their names were announced, not giving her the time to think about how his eyes seemed to carry a bit of sadness.

Katniss stood in the center of the dancefloor, trying not to feel embarrassed. One more thing she hated, her outfit. It was little more than a corset with a small skirt and fishnet tights. The music started and she felt Peeta come up behind her, just as the practiced. The moves in the dance were passionate, angry and sensual. She had to admit, Haymitch was right, her anger seemed to work just fine with the Tango and especially with the song they choose. Doing some happy Jitterbug dance would have never worked for them. Enemies would have a really hard time acting happy.

They danced their hearts out, even though she was sure Peeta didn’t need the bonus he at least seemed to want to win this competition. Maybe it was because it was his last night. The final moves put Katniss fully at his mercy, one wrong move and he could drop her, but it was flawless. The judges praised the dance giving them 9’s and a highly coveted 10, meaning their score was the highest. All the dancers came to the stage for the announcement, Katniss and Peeta had won! Katniss jumped into his arms, hugging him before she could register what she had done. The moment his arms wrapped around her, without the guise of a dance move, she felt a spark run through her. She quickly stepped back, and they said thank you’s before leaving the stage.

Peeta walked with Katniss toward the dressing rooms. When she got to her door he stopped her. “I’m glad we got to dance together. I’m not sure why you hate me so much, but I just wanted to let you know I never disliked you. Good luck Katniss.” He turned and Katniss watched him walk to his room.

She stormed through her door, how dare he do this on his last night. Why wouldn’t she hate him, he was just like the Capital Darlings he danced with, manipulative and full of himself. She still remembered the way Cashemer looked straight at her when she announced she and Peeta had taken their “friendship” to the next level. She never thought someone like him would sleep his way to the top, she was wrong about him. Katniss then started noticing the little things, how he would whisper to others, many times looking her way. He was just like so many of the others that wrote her off as less than worthy of her job.

Katniss’s hair now hung loosely behind her, removed from the updo next she ripped off her outfit and put on a t-shirt and yoga pants, then to remove the pounds of makeup they always seemed to put on her. All the while she was getting angrier, why was he doing this now?

Against her better judgment, she stalked the three doors down and banged on Peeta’s door. She had to know what he was up to. Peeta’s blue eyes widen comically when he saw who was knocking. She noticed he had changed into jeans and a grey t-shirt already and took the gel from his hair, allowing his wavy hair to fall onto his forehead.

“Katniss, is everything alright?” He asked.

She glared at him, he honestly seemed sincere in his question. “Why did you tell me all of that?”

Peeta moved to the side and motioned for her to come in, she guessed he didn’t want a fight to get posted to the internet and cause issues for either of them. He closed the door and turned back to her. “I don’t know what I did, but I know you hate me and after a while, I just figured it would be easier for me to dislike you as well. The thing is no matter how much I tried I couldn’t. I’m sure I came off as more of an asshole than I meant, I just felt like I was being forced to go so far from how I really felt.”

“How did you really feel?” She whispered, afraid of what she’d find out.

Peeta’s shoulders deflated. “I like you and have from the day we met. But all of a sudden you changed and I didn’t know how to react. Self-preservation won out.”

Katniss shook her head, she couldn’t be hearing him right. “But you were with Cashmere, she made it a point to tell me all about it. Then your whispering with everyone behind my back.”

Peeta gave her a puzzled look, “What are you talking about? I’ve never done anything besides dance with Cashmere, in reality, she drove me nuts.”

“She told a few of us you did, she looked right at me when she did.” Katniss spit back, she was angry again.

Peeta raised his hands in surrender, “I swear I never touched her in any way that wasn’t professional.” Then realization came over his face. “She must have found out.”

“Found out what?” Katniss demanded.

“That I had a crush on you. She tried to get with me, but I didn’t take the bait. She must have done this to hurt me and you.” Peeta slowly reached for her hand, giving her plenty of time to pull it away. When she didn’t he rubbed his thumb over her knuckles and looked her straight in the eyes. “I swear on everything that I never did anything with her. I only wanted you, even when you made it apparent you wanted nothing to do with me, I couldn’t get passed it.”

Katniss narrowed her eyes for a moment as she tried to analyze everything he was saying. Had she really been that wrong about him? “And the whispering?”

“Some of the guys knew about my crush too or at least figured it out. They would try to get me to talk to you so I could fix it. Anytime I tried though you glared at me and I was too afraid.” Peeta spread his legs a bit so he could be closer to face level with her. “I’m leaving here soon, if you never want to see me again that’s fine but I don’t want you to leave thinking something that’s not true.”

Katniss looked him straight in the eyes, she always felt she was a good judge of if people were lying, it came from her rough childhood, and what she saw changed everything. “I don’t want that. I...maybe we could.” she couldn’t find the words, those were never her thing, instead she leaned in and kissed him.

His shock was apparent as he stumbled back into the door, breaking the kiss. She pulled back mortified that she had read it all wrong. He said he had a crush in the past, not that it was still there, especially after the way she’d treated him. Before she could apologize he regained his composure and put his hands on each side of her face and kissed her again. She felt the kiss flow through her body to her curled toes. She pulled him closer and could feel the effect she was having on him. A few steps away was the small couch, she lowered herself down pulling him with her. It was awkward, given his size and the size of the couch. It wasn’t going to work, but she wanted more.

He pulled back and pushed some of her hair behind her ear while giving her a sweet smile. “I want you, but not here, not like this.” He kissed her gently once more as if to make sure she believed him. “Come back to my place, I’ll cook for you and we can go from there. No expectations, just dinner.”

Katniss smiled, “That sounds nice.” He grabbed his wallet and keys, then walked her to her dressing room to get her bag. As they left she grabbed his hand, she’d already decided, they’d wasted enough time, tonight was all theirs.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #everlarkbirthdaydrabbles #everlarkbirthdaygifts #fan fic #by historywriter2007

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confessionsofaloudmouth · 4 years

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Red Queen by Victoria Aveyard; a blog post by Chelbey Trump

Happy Sunday, everyone! I’m generally going to be posting on Sundays because it gives me all of the weekend to write them. Also, you’ll catch on to the structures of these posts as we go.

This week, I am going to be discussing the novel Red Queen by Victoria Aveyard. Published in 2015v by Simon and Schuster, the novel was on the New York Time’s Bestsellers list. (In the future, I would like to write a blog post about that particular achievement because, let’s face it, almost every book has been on it.)

Characters:

Mare Barrow; A 17 year-old pitpocketer, living in the slummiest part of a country, with a younger sibling who has potential for their life, parents who are loyal to-said country even though they’re given the short end of the stick, and a male best friend who is, undoubtedly, in love with her. Come on down, Katniss Everdeen! Oh, sorry, I meant Beatrice Prior. America Singer? Oh, right this novel is uniquely science-fiction, even though it follows all of the rules of a dystopian-fiction series. Ehem: I hate this character. Her arch, though not necessary to the forward motion of the story, was lost completely by a million different subplots and, even, the main plot. I like the idea that, in the midst of becoming the face of the rebellion, she became less of an individual person and more of a loyal person to her people. That being said, she was incredibly selfish, with her pity-part-for-one attitude simply because she was born into the Stilts. She took for granted her sister’s opportunity to provide for their family by dragging into a scheme which destroyed her life. Did she save her by acting the part of princess? Yes, but, c’mon: It was either marry Maven or be killed. I hope that she loses this attitude within the next couple books because;

Cal Tiberias; What a hunk! Charming, self-less, sensible, and a future-king? Cal was a strong character, although it could be said that he was weak due to his loyalty to his father which was conditioned inside his brain from a young age. He turned his back on the lower part of his people to stay true to the upper, wealthy, ‘better’ half. He deserved better than this, after showing traits that he was, well, better than this! I understand it worked for the plot line, but how juicy would it have been to see Cal stand up to his father? I loved how passionate he was, though. Mare thought he didn’t care about the divide, but he was noble in saying he didn’t want violence to be what closed said-divide. He was willing to put his men on the same level as the Red soldiers, including himself, to fight the war. That’s hot. In the end, when he defended Mare even though she had offended him, I fell more in love with his character. He had stayed true to himself- or who he was meant to be- instead of a stupid girl, but when they turned their backs on him, he was ready to die with honor alongside that dumb female (synonyms!) If Cal was still the general, then I’d say:

Maven Tiberias; If Cal is a hunk, Maven is that nerdy, attractive guy. He was charming from start to finish even though he was, ya know, the ‘bad’ guy. It was hard to believe him even as the bad guy, however, because he only 17 and played Mare like a game of Chess. It’s understandable that he had, like Cal, been conditioned to love his mother and her cause for all of his life, that the king and Cal were enemies, that Mare could never possibly love him. But, Aveyard literally threw us twenty pages from the end of the novel. It felt rushed, uncomfortable and, well, forced. Overall, I still love his character and I’m excited to see him as a king in the next three books.

Queen Elara and King Tiberias; The. Best. Female. Character. What a literal queen! She didn’t care about anyone’s feeling, had powers which made her stronger than pretty much everyone, and waited so long to let her husband’s head roll so she and her son could rule. That’s amazing! I loved her smug attitude which was revolutionary because she was still a lady. She chided Mare for not acting like a said-lady and did so herself while still manipulating everyone and anyone. We dont see enough strong female characters who are still very much feminine, and we deserve to. Now, for the king: Off with his head! I’m so glad he’s dead because I dont think I could have stood another second of his toxic masculinity. That’s all I’ll say about that.

Ruth, Gisa, and Daniel Marrow; I wish we could have a family which is matriarchal. Too many books rely on normal societorial standards fo household and I’m slightly over it. I understand that in a normal kingdom, men, like Daniel, were the war hero’s, honorably discharged, wise, older, and the most-looked up to in the family. But, c’mon, Mare could literally manipulate electricity and her father couldn’t have made dinner? Her mother was too sweet and quiet and her father too quiet and judgmental. It was too basic and boring. However, I feel awful for Gisa: She absolutely deserved so much more than what she was given by Mare’s horrible decisions.

Honorable Mentions; Kilorn was just so annoying, trying to be masculine yet show his affection to Mare. Get over her, bud, she’s fighting a revolution! Evangeline was annoying, yet so, so satisfying to read about. She was exactly like Queen Elara with all the overwhelming traits of King Tiberias. Lucas, I felt, could have been used a lot more sufficiently than he was. Julian, too, was lost in the fast-paced motion of the novel. Overall, the relationships everyone formed with one another were not illustrated well through the novel. I refuse to believe Mare was falling for Maven, or Cal for Mare, or that Julian truly cared about Mare as much as he said he did because I saw no build up of that love.

Settings:

What Aveyard lacks in characters, she makes up for in description. Although sometimes it felt like she was going overboard with her language usage, fo rate majority of the time, I could see exactly what she was discussing. Her most creative ideas for setting were the forest which was able to prevent pollution from Gray Town, the usage of The Capital River running through the entire kingdom, and the bridge separating Archean and the Silver residencies.

Plot Lines:

Reds vs. Silvers; I hate and love the idea of the high-class citizens having silver-flushed skin and literally silver blood. It took the first half of the book for my mind to comprehend the distinction because I was too focused on hating Mare Barrow (just kidding!) I loved the moment when Evangeline dug her nails into Mare’s arm in order to draw red blood so that her identity would be revealed. But, I hated that there was no explanation as to why there was separation between the two classes.

The Love Triangle (Quartet?); How grossed out would you be if your brother was engaged to the girl you just kissed and made-out with her on a regular basis? Well, put yourself into Cal’s shoes and see you feel. I knew from the moment Cal pretended to be a Red citizen that he was the love interest for Mare- not that she didn’t end up having two others. The personification of his body heat connected to the feelings Mare would have for him, and that was interesting to read about. However, Maven had to be thrown into the mix because he was engaged to her for literal marketing reasons. I shipped Maven and Mare so hard, but Maven apparently did not. I wouldn’t call it a love quartet because we all know Evangeline didn’t actually love Cal.

Brother vs. Brother; The idea of Cal and his father vs. Maven and his mother reminded me of Reign and the relationship between Francis, Queen Elizabeth, Henry and Sebastian. As a fan of that show, I loved this power struggle. The idea of Cal being the OG son and Maven his half-brother showed that his blood did run deep with the Tiberias’. It allowed for him to feel disconnected and to want to follow his mother’s lead to power.

Symbolism and Themes; Let’s be honest here: There were none. Besides the fact that the division between the Reds and Silvers could stand for racism in any and all societies, the novel itself lacked depth. You shouldn’t look to this novel for guidance or meaning. Rather, it is a quick, cute read. Mare’s earrings stood fo her brothers, and eventually Kiloran, but that was literally given to us within the first five chapters. Most of the themes lied along the man vs. nature due to the issue of biological desterminism, and man vs. man for the revolution.

Dream Cast:

Jaz Sinclair as Mare Barrow

Charles Melton as Cal Tiberias

Tati Gabrielle as Evangeline

Jaeden Martell as Maven Calore

Melora Hardin as Queen Elara

I know, I know, this is not everyone. But, these are the only characters I truly felt needed to be played by specific people. And, yes, some are highly debatable, such as Melora because of her comedic timing, but I think these actors could play these characters well.

Quote Corner:

“The truth is what I make it. I could set this world on fire and call it rain.”

“Flame and shadow. One cannot exist without the other.”

“Words can lie. See beyond them.”

(Victoria Aveyard is a wordsmith. What she lacks in character and book depth she makes up for in language and description.)

Overall Rating: 3.75/5

I know I bashed the book a lot, but it was a pretty easy and cute read. I am going to read the sequel because I am very invested in Maven as character and would like to see what else Aveyard has in store. She took ideas from dystopian novels which were all familiar with and put her own unique twist on them, and I admire that.

Thank you for reading this week’s blog post. Next Sunday I will be discussing, “The Half of It.” Please like, follow, and reblog my posts to help get me out there. Happy Memorial Day Weekend!

#book and literature #literature #analysis #character analysis #red queen #victoria aveyard #mare barrow #maven calore #king maven #book review #book analysis #science fiction #dystopian #the hunger games #writer #free write #blogger #blog post

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holidaywishes · 3 years

Text

not all monsters do monstrous things...

Part 2: The Girl

Summary of Series: Delly Cartwright lost her best friend, Peeta, to the games. Now, the one that took him seems to have a soft spot for her.

Summary of Chapter: Delly’s P.O.V of the events of the last chapter.

Warning: Some fluff, some angst, some violence

Author’s Note: I’M BACK WITH ANOTHER CHAPTER! These two obviously were easy because they’re just P.O.V’s of the same events but I still had fun writing them whether anyone reads them or not! I’m aware that the Hunger Games Fandom is almost entirely asleep but I’ve reread the books and re-watched the movies, so I’m back in it. I’m also going to put in here again that the story idea is from a fic I read by Ophelia Tate (I believe that was the name) on FanFiction.net -- so full credit to her! If anyone does end up reading this series, I hope you enjoy it and ship Delly and Cato as much as I do! Also, have to make another note about the GIF. Credit goes to whoever made it, I found it on Google and it wouldn’t bring to the page where I could give credit, but whatever, it’s not mine don’t @ me. You know the drill!

masterlist

the other masterlist

Delly’s P.O.V

You sat beside Peeta’s youngest brother for most of the games but as more and more tributes lost their lives, you invited the Hawthorne’s and the Everdeen’s to watch with you. It helped a little, having everyone together, and the closer it got to the end, the more it seemed like Katniss and Peeta might both make it home.

“It’s just a role, you know,” you said to Gale, who had abruptly gotten up in the middle of the viewing to put his empty glass in the sink, “they’re not actually in love.”

“He is,” Gale stated with a hiss, “maybe he knows it can’t work so he’s playing it up more than he would, but Peeta is definitely in love with Katniss”

“But she’s not in love with him...” you said

“Does it matter?” he asked and you furrowed your brow, “if they both get out of this alive, it will be because they’ve convinced everyone they’re in love. Which means--” he stopped himself, not wanting to admit his feelings

“Which means you can’t be with her”

“And you can’t be with him”

“I gave up on Peeta and I being together a long time ago,” you smirked, “he was always in love with your dear Girl On Fire.”

“I just want her to come home safe. If she has to pretend to be with him, so be it. At least she won’t be fighting for her life.” A few days went by and the district couldn’t focus on much else other than the games

“I think they’re going to make it” someone would say

“They’re so in love” another would coo

“I’m so excited to see them back home” another would sigh. The feelings were echoed by everyone in the district but it was still too early to say, at this point there were still six tributes left. You couldn’t deny that you thought Peeta and Katniss’ chances looked good because of what they were selling but you didn’t want to get ahead of yourself. And then, the moment came, when you knew it was over.

“CATO!” the girl, Clove, from District 2 screams, “CATO!” she shrieks once more, crying out for her district partner but he is nowhere to be found. Tears begin falling from her eyes as she accepts what is now her last moment before a rock is crushing her temple. You could’ve sworn you heard something as her lifeless body fell to the ground; something in the background, a whimper or a scream. You couldn’t quite tell but when no camera’s focused on it, you assumed it was nothing. After Clove died, you knew, as well as anyone you watched the games with, that Cato would come after Thresh, then Katniss and Peeta. He was too strong for either of them to fight off alone, so you made your peace with your loss. Choosing to leave the games early that night and look at a picture Peeta had drawn for you years ago.

“It’s a sunflower!” His young voice rang in your ear, “it reminded me of you. So lively, so bright. Always pointed toward the sun.” You cried for him, this version of Peeta you’d lost long ago, and the boy you’d lost to the Hunger Games.

“Goodbye, Peeta.” you whispered to yourself, holding the image close to your chest. You remember it too well, the final day of the Hunger Games. You clutched Prim’s hand tightly as her sister fought Cato atop the large, steel Cornucopia where the games had begun; only for Katniss to be flung into the large pile of ravenous mutts below. Prim whimpered into your shoulder as you stared at Peeta, one of the final two, and you hoped he’d fight all the while knowing he wouldn’t win against Cato. You watched as the two blonde boys faced each other, Cato panting angrily and Peeta furrowing his brow.

“DO SOMETHING PEETA!” Peeta’s older brother, Flint, yelled at the screen

“He’s terrified” his mother scoffed but you didn’t see it that way. You’d seen Peeta terrified before. During the broadcast, sure, but also whenever he’d accidentally burn something in the bakery or do something to make his mother angry. The look he was giving Cato right now wasn’t one of terror, it was of pain. How could you blame him. Without Katniss, being a victor meant less than nothing. She was the only thing that made the games worth fighting in, she was the only thing he was willing to fight for. And now that she was gone, you knew what he was planning, forcing your eyes to well up with tears; letting them fall only when he stepped off the Cornucopia to face the same fate as Katniss.

You had wanted to put the games behind you for good, but that’s not the way it worked. Especially not when you lose someone to the games. Today was the start of the Victory Tour, so you dressed in a soft yellow dress in memory of both Katniss and Peeta. Two Peacekeepers guided you and Peeta’s family to the front of the square, while two peacekeepers did the same for Gale’s family and the Everdeen’s. Your eyes wandered around the square, taking in everyone’s anxiety as they slowly filed in after you. When Cato took his place on stage, he looked taller than you anticipated but younger than he did when he was on T.V. The blood that covered his face must have shielded his youth from Panem.

“I would first like to thank you for coming out today,” he started, his voice steady at first but it slowly began to falter as he caught sight of the crowd, “this is not an easy speech to make. The lives you’ve lost will be, uhm, will be felt by-- will be felt by the Capitol. Your sacrifices are -- will be missed.” When Prim let out a small sob, Cato turned his focus to her, straying from his carefully scripted speech, “Katniss was incredibly smart and, with the way she treated Rue, I could tell she had a big heart. Peeta had remarkable strength,” he turned to face yours and Peeta’s families. His eyes trained themselves on you and, try as you might, you couldn’t look away, “but for all his strength, he was kind, truly.” The words felt true but they quickly vanished from thought when Gale spoke up, calling the boy from District Two a murderer in a booming voice while Prim pleaded for him to stop

“You don’t care about them. You don’t care about us!” Gale said, pushing aside Prim so he could confront the large boy who stood on the stage.

“The Captiol thanks you for your sacrifices. Peeta and Katniss will be mourned.” The words were par for the course from a victor, undoubtedly something that was fed to them from the Capitol. You let out a whimpered sigh at the words but before you could even think to shed a tear, Gale was lunging forward. As Cato tried to walk off the stage, Gale ran to him, cocking back his arm and balling his hand into a fist

“GALE!” You screeched, even though you knew it was useless, “GALE DON’T!” you repeated, just as Gale released his fist, missing by an inch as Cato turned to face him. You could see anger forming across his features and you feared for Gale’s fate as the boy in front of him, who was now the newest victor, pulled back his arm to throw a punch in return, but he hesitated when he looked behind the curtain on stage. Then, as if Gale knew he only had one choice, he balled another fist, only this time it connected with the side of Cato’s face and blood flew from his mouth at the blow. You and Prim screamed as the Peacekeepers separated everyone, frantically trying to get Cato to safety and discipline Gale. As they tore Gale away, you ran after him followed quickly by his family as well as Prim and Clara. When you finally reached him, you saw his arms tied to the whipping post at the side of the square.

“I thought that was only there to scare us,” Rory asked, his voice trembling as he knew he was wrong, “they’re not going to actually use it...”

“It looks like it” Vick replied, a harshness in his tone to cover the fear you knew he had

“Boys, enough!” Clara and Hazelle rebuked while you and Prim started to walk to untie him. Maybe it was just a scare tactic, you thought to yourself and you could tell Prim was hoping the same thing when two large arms stopped both of you in your tracks

“Stop right there” roared two Peacekeepers as another stepped closer to Gale. It was the Head Peacekeeper’s outfit, but it wasn’t Cray, you could tell from his movements. When he took of his helmet, you realized it was Romulus Thread and your eyes went wide. He was a callous man, a man who loved the Capitol almost as much as he loved to watch the citizens of this district bleed.

“NO!” you heard Prim scream when you both saw Thread pull out a whip, “NO! STOP!” she yelled again after the first lash cut Gale’s back. Peacekeepers continued to hold you and Prim back, restraining the rest of your friends and family when they tried to approach, while Gale suffered enough lashes to drain him of all breath

“STOP!” you screamed alongside Prim now, fighting to get out of the Peacekeepers grasp as tears streamed down your face uncontrollably.

“ENOUGH!” a voice boomed from the back of the square, silencing everyone there, even Thread stopped his movements. You and Prim looked at each other briefly before the Peacekeepers released their hold on the two of you. You ran to Gale’s side not knowing if the guards would snap out of their trance-like state but needing to help the boy who had become as much of a friend to you as Peeta was. Prim followed quickly behind, frantically untying the knots at Gale’s wrist as you tried to wake him up, hearing him groan lowly, before you helped Prim. When his body finally dropped, he landed on top of you and you felt all of his weight begin to crush you. Prim took one of his arms around her shoulders and you did the same, as you began to walk him to safety

“Mr. Berenger, sir, I--” you heard Thread whimper

“Why would you whip this boy?” Cato questioned in a voice all of District 12 had associated him with, “because he mourns his friends? Because he is in pain?” The words he used forced you to stop. Even though his voice was callous and angry, there was sympathy to his words

“BECAUSE HE ATTACKED YOU, SIR!” Thread yelled as he straightened his posture, only to be met by Cato’s larger frame

“I don’t need your protection, sir!�� Cato countered, sneering down at him as he towered over the new Head Peacekeeper. You watched as the District 2 victor released Gale of his charges and forbid Thread of these acts again. Something about him now, as he fought for a stranger who had just attacked him, reminded you of Peeta.

“Delly, come on,” Prim whined, making you realize that you’d completely ignored Gale, “what are you doing?”

“Oh my gosh!” you gasped, doing your best to get your friend to the Apothecary, “I’m so sorry.” When the two of you set Gale down on the table, Prim made fast work of his wounds; soaking them in alcohol to sterilize them, cutting up old cloths to try to cover them as Gale screamed

“Delly, hold him down,” Clara said as he writhed in pain, “we can’t help him if he won’t stay still.” You stood up, Gale’s right hand clutching your yellow dress as you pushed his shoulders into the table. His screams became quieter and you didn’t have to hold him down anymore

“He should be okay for a while” Clara said as you pulled a chair close to sit next to him, watching his breath rise and fall in his body before another stream of tears fell from your eyes and you clutched his hand

“You shouldn’t have done that Gale” you whispered and he seemed to groan in response. Suddenly, you felt a small breeze run through the door, causing you to look up and a gasp to escape your lips. Why was Cato here? you thought to yourself, hadn’t he gone back to the train? You stood up to put a sort of barricade between Gale and Cato before you whimpered “please, he didn’t mean it. He wouldn’t have gone further than a punch, he was just upset..” You pleaded as Cato stood by the door, wiping the water from your face and putting a hand on Gale’s shoulder

“It’s okay,” he said, holding his hands up, palms forward, in reassurance, “I’m not going to hurt him or take him away. I just wanted to see how you– how he was doing…” More kindness, you thought, this was not the boy that the games had shown you. You furrowed your brow but decided to seat back down

“The lashes have exhausted him and he’s lost a lot of blood” you said as you rubbed your thumb gently across the back of Gale’s hand, watching as he slept soundly.

“I’m sorry” Cato whispered, much to your surprise and your head sprung up at the apology, your eyes growing wide as he stared at you. The mark at the side of his face from Gale’s punch was slowly forming into a purple bruise but it didn’t take away from his features. His bright blue eyes seemed to pierce through the tension, making you increasingly comfortable in his presence, and you found yourself examining him. You had always thought Gale was broad but, looking at Cato, he seemed small in comparison, “you must think I’m a monster...” he finally said, snapping you out of your head causing you to clear your throat before you spoke

“Because of this?” you said, “this was the Peacekeepers, not you.”

“Because of the games” he corrected, “I’ve watched those deaths more times than I care to admit. I saw how they portrayed me. How everyone else must have seen me.” You thought about it for a moment. Thinking about how cruel he was to Katniss, how he tormented the younger children in the arena and how he used Peeta throughout the games. It would be easy for you to say that he was a monster and no one in 12 would disagree with you, but you couldn’t help but consider everything he’d done for Gale in the square

“I don’t envy you at all,” you finally said, turning your body in your chair, ever so slightly, to face him more direct, “having to train your whole life to be taught to kill other children. Many your own age or younger. I’ve never understood why death, and the deaths of so many children, was the price the Capitol wanted to collect. You had to do awful things to bring pride to your district and I am very very very… sorry.”

“Sorry?” he questioned and you nodded

“Yes,” you said, “to have your life mapped out for you, without your say, couldn’t have been easy. I’m so very sorry that this is the life you were led to believe was all you could have”

“You’re so kind...” he almost whispered and you smiled to yourself, thinking about how you’d connected that word to him earlier, watching as his eyebrows scrunched together, “no one has shown me this much kindness in my life.” The idea made you sad, that he had never known kindness, but he was from District 2, they weren’t known for kindness there.

“I don’t think you’re a monster, Mr. Berenger,” he looked at you intently as you spoke softly, “I think you’re lost. Trying to fit an image that the Capitol and your own District has created for you.” He appeared as though he wanted to say something more when someone came through the door, nearly tearing it off it’s hinges.

“CATO!” a man you recognized barked, it was Cato’s mentor, Wade, “you can’t be here. We have to go. Now!” He brought a frantic energy into an otherwise peaceful space, causing your breathing to increase

“Take this,” Cato said, handing you a small silver box that he’d had in his jacket pocket, “it’s not much but it should help with his healing.” As you took the box from him, your finger grazed the palm of his hand and you swore you could feel a spark.

“Thank you” you replied with a smile before he was pulled out of the Apothecary and out of the district. You were left alone with what had happened for only a moment when Prim entered the room

“What are you doing?” she said, leading you to turn around sharply to face her

“Here. This is for Gale, from--”

“The victor?” Prim interjected, taking the box from your outstretched hand, and you nodded, “what are you doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“Delly, don’t play dumb.”

“Prim.. I really don’t know what you mean...” She stood silently in front of you for a minute before eventually moving toward Gale

“Do you think I’m blind? or stupid?” she scoffed, shaking her head

“Of course not--”

“Then why are you being so friendly to the person who killed my sister?!” she practically yelled

“We were talking, he dropped the charges on Gale. Thread won’t do this again, he promised!”

“Oh sweet, naïve, little Delly,” she sighed, “the promise leaves with the victor”

“Prim...”

“HE KILLED YOUR BEST FRIEND!”

“NO HE DIDN’T!” you shouted in return, shocked at your outburst, “Peeta jumped.”

“He still killed my sister” she said softly and you walked closer to where she stood

“I know,” you replied, “he just seemed so... broken. I’ve seen that before, from Peeta, and I just didn’t want him to think that our district is full of cruel, angry people”

“But we are angry! Why aren’t you?”

“What good does it do me, Prim? To be angry? That boy has never known kindness, maybe if someone had shown him some, he would’ve done the same to those tributes!”

“He’s not a boy, he’s a monster!” she yelled and you furrowed your brow, trying to get her to understand

“You didn’t see what I saw”

“You’d rather defend a murderer than say something unkind about someone else?!” she argued

“Enough! Both of you! Stop!” Clara yelled as she walked in the room, “Gale has to rest and your bickering will only agitate him. Delly, I think you should go home, your parents are probably worried sick about you.” You dropped your head, nodding in agreement, before laying a small kiss to Gale’s forehead

“Delly..” he moaned and you looked up at Prim and Clara

“Gale?” you said

“Prim.. Prim’s right” he groaned

“Don’t move, Gale” Prim said, placing her arms on his back

“He killed our friends. And so many others..” he tried

“Gale..”

“Prim’s right, the promise goes with the victor. Thread will do this again”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Clara said, “enough talking. Delly--” she tried to send you home again but Gale sat up

“Believing someone is kind is dangerous, especially when they’ve proven they’re not.” You could tell he was angry as he mustered up the strength to stand in front of you, however hunched he may have been

“I can’t be angry with him for Peeta jumping off that Cornucopia” you admitted

“Then be angry that he showed Katniss no mercy. Be sad that your friends and family had to watch someone they loved die”

“I don’t want to be sad anymore, Gale,” you added, “I miss Peeta everyday but I can’t be sad forever”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s gone. They’re gone. But we’re here. And we should be happy to be alive”

“LOOK AROUND, CARTWRIGHT!” he yelled, “Is any of this actually living?!”

“Gale...” you whimpered

“Listen to me, Delly, he is not kind. He is not lost or weak or any of the things that you told him you thought he was.”

“You heard that?” Gale scoffed, holding onto the table to keep himself steady

“He is manipulative, that’s how he won the games. He’s a monster. Delly,” he whispered angrily, as tears began streaming down your cheeks, “he’s not Peeta...” You looked up at him, seeing his grey eyes full of nothing but rage, and shook your head at his callousness before running out of the Apothecary. You couldn’t explain to him, any of them, why you were being kind to Cato, you could barely explain it to yourself, but there was something that made you want to comfort him. If for no other reason than the knowledge that you’d never see him again.

#Delly Cartwright #Delly #Hunger Games #the Hunger Games #Cato #Cato Hadley?#Cato Berenger #that's what I'm sticking with #sorry #it was never in any of the books #i'm positive of that #and it sure as h*ll wasn't in the movie #anyway...

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district7 · 4 years

Text

A Mockingjay Joniss AU - pt. 1: i’ve made up my mind (i’m never going back)

11.11.19

A Mockingjay Joniss AU - pt. 1: i’ve made up my mind (i’m never going back)

A Mockingjay AU WIP where Katniss reevaluates whether her best future is a path she had never considered. After Johanna fails the Block, it occurs to Katniss that her future is not pre-destined, that she’s done enough, and that she doesn’t owe any one, or any cause, a suicide mission.

A/N: There are no promises of quality assurance. Also, I make no promises about updates. (If I add that sort of pressure on myself about it, I’ll end up loathe to work on it.) This will likely hold a lot of things in common with other Mockingjay Joniss AUs, namely a return to District 7 instead of District 12, and an emphasis on the pair helping each other recover set against a backdrop of quasi-homesteading. I make zero assertions POV and tense will stay consistent across updates. This is an adventure in pantsting with a general goal in mind, rather than something I’m pre-plotting.

Feel free to send me constructive witticisms, requests, asks, comments, trolling, whatever.

_______________________

District 13 - Medical

Johanna’s limbs twitched, body emitting a mix of grunts and whimpers. Katniss guessed she was fighting in her sleep.

Or maybe running. The morphling line in her IV was a rifle with vicious recoil. Awake, it tricked you into believing pain was farther away and anxiety quieter than they actually were. Helpful. Maybe. Asleep, it made it harder to wake from the nightmares.

“Jo...”

Katniss nudged her shoulder with a knuckle, leaning forward out of her visitor’s chair only far enough to breach the edge of Johanna’s medical bed. Best to keep out of the way of swinging arms, if Johanna woke up fighting. “Johanna, wake up.”

In response, Johanna’s grunts and twitches ratcheted in intensity.

Katniss guessed at what she was dreaming. Maybe fighting mutts while they tried to pull her under water. What kind of mutts might the Capitol design for that? Giant fish with fiery eyes, men’s arms, and children’s hands? Eels with multiple tails which encapsulate you while the monsters drag you deeper into the pressing blackness, down until you finally have no choice but to gasp in water and drown yourself?

The Capitol and its mutts.

Katniss tried again to wake Johanna, but she only rolled in her hospital bed, tangling herself and her IV line in her bleached, too-white sheets while letting out a sleep-garbled plea.

Maybe not Capitol mutts, Katniss thought. This happened in The Block, the Rebellion’s own customizable mini-Arena. So, Rebellion mutts. Coin and her well-oiled machine could squeeze and fracture a person every bit as well as Snow and the Games could a Tribute. Less horrific and premeditated, definitely. Better justified, absolutely. Without the evil intent, hopefully. But they could still do it, all the same.

What was it Peeta had said in that interview?

Once you’re in the arena, the rest of the world becomes very distant. All the people and things you loved or cared about almost cease to exist. As bad as it makes you feel, you’re going to have to do some killing, because in the arena, you only get one wish. And it’s very costly. It costs a lot more than your life. To murder innocent people? It costs everything you are. So you hold on to your wish.

His wish had been for Katniss to live. Katniss’ had been for him to. And here they were. Everyone, except for Cinna, who she’d gone into the Quarter Quell caring about was somehow, miraculously, still alive. Prim. Her mother. Gale. Haymitch. Effie. Peeta might still be mentally disordered, but at least with her staying away, he was progressing well enough to decorate a wedding cake.

A wedding cake. That image made Katniss grunt. Finnick and Annie.

It wasn’t just those she cared about before the Quarter Quell who were still alive, it was also those she newly cared about. Those two. Beetee.

Johanna.

Johanna, for whom Katniss had experienced the impulse to volunteer as roommate. The one she’d sidled up to as a training partner. The one whose nightmares and traumas she’d been ready-fit acquaintances with. And also the one whose crass, doesn’t-give-a-fuck facade had gone from infuriating Katniss, when they’d first met, to actually making her laugh.

She sat on the edge of the bed and made one last, forceful attempt to stir Johanna, managing to cajole her onto her back and into wakefulness enough that she blinked with hazy recognition.

“Shit. Can’t a girl sleep without being molested?” Johanna was mumbling, voice rough.

“You were having a nightmare.”

“I can see your face, so clearly I must still be having it.”

“Funny.”

Johanna’s lids drifted shut.

“Have to be good for at least something, brainless, or else these wonderful District Thirteen people might decide it’s not worth the cost-benefit to feed me.”

“You’re good at lot of things,” Katniss joked. “Or at least that’s what you’re always going on to everyone about.”

Still with eyes closed, Johanna’s face pulled a smirk. “And wouldn’t you be lucky to experience every last one of those things, Everdeen.”

Katniss snorted and rolled her eyes. “You’re incredible.”

“Most wait ‘till after to tell me that.”

“You know what I meant,” Katniss corrected, refusing to fall prey to the attempt at embarrassing her. She started untangling the sheet from around the IV as something else to focus on.

Johanna peeked open one eye to watch, then wiggled the rest of her arm free from the bedding as soon as Katniss was done, purposefully floundering it through the air until she thwacked her palm against Katniss’ cheek. She pushed her face away with token force, punctuated by a complaining groan.

“Go a-way. Your sickening goodness makes my ass itch. How’s a mentally disordered person supposed to sleep?"

Katniss managed to huff like she was offended, but when Johanna’s hand didn’t move away from her face, she pulled it down to her lap and held onto it, frowning.

“They’re re-classifying you as that again?”

Johanna’s hand twitched in Katniss’.

“What? No. It’s nothing.”

“Johanna...”

“I’m fine, leave it.” She yanked her hand free. “Aren’t you supposed to be prepping for an assassination mission right now anyway? Why are you here?”

Katniss frowned again at the abruptly acerbic tone, but she’d built up some resistance to it over time, and was tired herself, so she chose not walk into the trap. She was about to lay her own, anyway, after a fashion.

“You mean the suicide mission?” Her voice was a whisper, and she said it only after looking away from Johanna and picking her cuticles for a few long moments.

“What?” Johanna shimmied up into a sitting position, eyes wide and body instantly tense. “What are you talking about?”

Boggs’ words from a group meeting with Coin weeks before had been revolving through Katniss’ mind for the previous twenty-four hours.

Even if we’re careful, we can’t guarantee her safety. She’ll be a target for every-

He hadn’t gotten to finish, because Katniss herself had interrupted him. But she could definitely fill in the blank herself.

“Think about, Johanna. Because since the Block, I’ve certainly been thinking about it. At best, it’s a mission doomed to fail. At worst, it’s a death sentence. I think I’ve slept less than you in the last forty-eight hours.”

“You promised.” Johanna and pulled her arms tightly around her shoulders to make herself smaller. Triggered into a minor episode, she shook her head non-stop, as if doing so could change the reality of what Katniss had said. “You promised you’d kill him for me. I need him to be dead!”

Katniss sighed loudly and stared up at ceiling, fighting her own frustration as well as Johanna’s. Fighting to keep her voice calm.

“I know. I know I did, Johanna. And he will.“ She put a hand on Johanna’s knee to calm her, only to have Johanna swipe it away. But she went on. “We’ve breached the Capitol. We have forces there. Everyone wants Snow’s head. The Rebellion has come too far to stop, and Coin is going to make sure he ends up dead one way or another. But think about it. I’m not a trained assassin, I’m barely a solider. I don’t have an anonymous face. What chance do I really have? I’m a girl with a rifle and a bow. In the middle of a city decked out with Gamemakers’ traps, thousands of peacekeeper who know my face, and tens of thousands of Capitol citizens ready to raise an alert.” She gave Johanna a grim smile. “Those odds are way higher against than we faced in all of our games combined. And my target? One man on the far side of a war zone, almost certainly sealed away in a well-guarded bomb shelter.”

Katniss gave a weak shrug. “Boggs is right. He didn’t call it a suicide mission out loud, but he knows it is. I’ve been seeing it in his eyes, the hoping that I'd see it for myself.”

“Fuck,” Johanna hissed. “I’m so fucking tired of all this SHIT!”

The sudden screaming brought in the medical staff. Johanna shouted wild curses at them, alarming them all the more, but Katniss eventually talked them into leaving. It took long minutes, but Johanna’s shaking slowly evolved to despondent rocking. And then her chin sank to her chest, followed a moment later by a sniff, and then her dragging an arm across her face to wipe at it. Finally, she gripped her skull and let herself fall back flat onto the bed.

“Jo, I don’t know what kind of a life you want to have when this is over, but I’ve made up my mind. I’m not going back. I’ve done enough. We’ve both done enough. We don’t owe anyone. It’s not selfish: We’ve reached the point where we’re no longer necessary. Coin and the other District Leaders can duke it out; it doesn’t need to be Mockingay business. The only thing I want is to live a quiet life where I know Prim is safe and I can shrink out from under the spotlight. That’s what started this for me. That’s the promise I need to keep. The one I made to her on Reaping Day. That I’d live and come back to her.” She added, “You can’t tell me that at least part of you isn’t interested.”

There was more sniffling, and more face wiping. And a few ragged breaths before there was an exhausted response.

“Do you really believe that’s possible?”

“I think Coin will give it to us. She needs popular Victors around after the Capitol falls like a bear needs bees stinging at its nose when it wants honey. At this stage, my quiet exit might be as tempting for her as it is for me. And face it, from her perspective- If I’m right- if I do go, at best my death makes a good propo, except that it comes at the cost of the Capitol claiming credit for killing me. But if I actually succeeded, she risks me having an even bigger voice in Panem’s future. Considering how we’ve butted heads already, that’s not something she’s likely to want. And that puts not just me, but everyone I care about right back in danger.” Katniss had risked sneaking that train of thought into a whispered conversation with Boggs over that morning’s breakfast.

The look he’d given her had been answer enough.

“For once, I’d like the chance to choose my own fate instead of being manipulated into one.”

Johanna continued to stare up at the ceiling.

“You’re serious about this.”

“I have the bone-chilling feeling I need to be.”

“And so what,” Johanna struggled for the energy to push herself up on her elbows, glaring, “this is you asking my blessing to beg Coin to send you, your family, and lover boy back to Twelve so you can have a guilt-free happily ever after?”

Katniss gave herself time to cycle through a slow breath. Being about to say it aloud made it feel more like killing someone than letting them go. But Johanna was impatient.

“I’m sick of this visit, Katniss. Just say whatever it is and get it over with.”

“Fine.” Katniss sucked in a breath. “Peeta’s a long way from being able to go anywhere without a counselor. Maybe things could be different. In the future, after time passes and he’s better and I don’t feel constantly conflicted over what I should be feeling and how much of that is me over what people keep telling me I feel. And-”

“There goes your self-righteous we-really-love-each-other act, princess.”

“Shut up, Johanna! It’s complicated and you know it. And like I said, maybe things could be different. None of us knows that, though. But what I do know is that neither he or I need that sort of pressure right now, and right now is when I need to make a decision for the people who are still within my reach.”

Johanna relented, begrudgingly.

“If you go back to Twelve, you realize he’ll just end up back there at some point. If you go home, he follows. He won’t be able to help it.”

Katniss hesitated, but then nodded sadly. “I know.”

“Is that what you want?”

Katniss didn’t respond. Instead, after some quiet, she reached over to the nightstand for Johanna’s pine bundle, laying it on the bed. Her fingers lingered on it briefly before withdrawing.

“This was on the floor when I came in. Decided you didn’t like it after all?”

“Probably fell out while I was sleeping.” Johanna picked it up and took a sniff, then kept it at her nose to breathe the scent.

“Had you wanted to go back to Seven when this was all done?”

“I...” Johanna’s shoulders slowly sagged. “I don’t know,” she said simply, expression carefully neutral. “I don’t have anything there. Haven’t for a long time. And I haven’t even been able to picture a world that’s that normal enough to even try thinking about it.”

“Well, do. At this point, the three us of would rather go to Seven with you than back to Twelve.” Johanna narrowed her eyes, surprised. Perhaps suspicious. It didn’t phase Katniss. “Haymitch and Finnick have both agreed to help me make the argument to Coin for us.” And when Johanna only continued to study Katniss, without voicing an objection, Katniss hazarded some levity, "And anyway, you’re practically required to say yes: Prim insists she wants to adopt you into the family.”

“I’m not a fucking pet,” Johanna responded, eventually, but without real heat.

“Whatever you say, lumber-woman.” Katniss chuckled at the dirty face Johanna made at that, before standing to leave. “I think we both know Prim's pretty good at getting what she wants.”

“It should be illegal to be that fucking adorable.”

“Yeah,” Katniss agreed, to be polite. “Okay, well, I’m going to go talk to Haymitch. You aren’t laying a string of profanity down on me, so I’m going to run with it.”

Johanna pulled her knees to her chest, making herself small again.

“What is it?”

Johanna shook her head.

“Come on, Johanna.”

“I... don’t want to get dragged there and then dumped, if you guys don’t like it.” A tear raced down her cheek, then another, which Johanna cursed even as she wiped them away. “I... Fuck, I can’t believe I’m saying this. If you tell anyone, especially that stupid head doctor, that I'm saying this, I’ll rip your spine out.” The tears were still coming. “But I don’t think I can handle having people and then losing them again.”

Again. The weight of that word settled on Katniss’ shoulders.

She struggled with how to respond, in the end climbing onto the bed and letting Johanna curl into her side.

#joniss #johanna and katniss #katniss and johanna #johanna mason #katniss everdeen #the hunger games #johanna x katniss #katniss x johanna #mockingjay #moockingjay au #district 7

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talesofpanem · 5 years

Text

At Work.

Author: @thegirlfromoverthepond

Rating: K+

No Trigger warning

Summary: The Harry Potter world meets the Hunger Games.

AN :My deepest thanks to @reachingforaspark for her help in betaing this little thing :)

(Depending on the reaction to this fic, I can be persuaded to expand it, and this universe. It’s all up to you, guys.)

__________

It was always the same thing when Harry Potter came to the Ministry of Magic.

Always.

Witches would rush to wherever he was going to be, whispering spells under their breaths or not to make their hair shinier or correct their make-up.

Wizards would find any reason to be in his way, to snap a picture with him, to proudly display such photo on Wizbook or InstaMagic for the world to see.

Katniss Everdeen only sighed at their behaviour. Of course she knew what Harry Potter had gone through to free the Wizarding World of Voldemort’s hold, all the sacrifices it had meant for him and his family, the losses, the pain, the desperation.

She was totally aware of all that, felt grateful for what he’d done, but couldn’t understand why witches would fan themselves at the mere sight of him, or would ramble for days because they thought he had looked at them.

The word had spread earlier that the Chosen One would be coming to the US Ministry of Magic around ten that morning, since then everyone was rushing around like bees in a beehive.

The only good thing was that there was much less people walking towards the Department of Muggle Arts towards where Katniss was heading.

She quickly checked her appearance in one of the windows that turned glass at her spell.

“You’re back again? Sure it’s for the art or for the art keeper?”

Katniss turned, scowling at the portrait of Sir Charles of Bethren that apparently couldn’t help commenting on her visits.

“I didn’t know there was a limited amount of time I could come around, Sir Charles.”

“There isn’t, young girl. You’re the one coming the most, though.”

“Well, maybe twice a month, that doesn’t make it a lot.”

“Twice a month? Well, perhaps you should start counting, my dear.”

With a wink, Sir Charles went back to the banquet in the background of the painting, yet his laugh remained.

“Damn paintings” she hissed, as she walked towards the door.

She liked this? room. Full of all kinds of Muggle things, from paintings of well known artists to things as mundane as a comb or even an old fishing boot. She liked walking around ?with these objects, the testament of a pre-witch life, when she didn’t know magic existed.

“Miss Everdeen!” A deep voice cuts into her thoughts, bringing her back into the old room.

“Good morning, Mr Mellark.” She answered, trying to hide the smile that was threatening to come to her lips.

NP There was something to this man that always felt … comforting. Even back in their days in Panem’s School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, there was something to Peeta that made him likable.

She could remember their early days in the wizard’s school. Peeta was the third Mellark son to attend Panem, coming with the reputation of solid Quidditch player, of pranksters, of heartbreakers.

Peeta was different from the first day. He wasn’t cocky as his brothers, spent a lot of time in the library, excelled in their different subjects. He tried every year for the Quidditch team, never to be picked.

Most of all, he wasn’t sorted into Fortius House like all of his family before, going instead into Altius, sharing most of his lessons with Katniss and her fellow students of Fidelius. Katniss remembered him as a kind, helping and sharing boy, always there for everyone, always smiling.

Untilit was time to go home. The Mellarks only went home for the Summer holidays, always with a sad look on their faces, a contrast to the dozens of smiles from the rest of their classes.

Katniss still remembered how he had aced all the tests, earning Outstanding marks in both their OWLs and NEWTs, how he finished at the top of their year class every single time. Professor Icarus, their Defense Against the Dark Arts absolutely wanted Peeta to train as an Auror - he always declined. There was nothing he loved more than old books or paintings.

It wasn’t a surprise to Katniss that in the course of five years, Peeta Mellark became the youngest curator of the Department of Muggle Arts, turning it into a museum and a research center.

“Katniss, please, we were in class together. Call me Peeta.” He said.

“I know, but Mr Abernathy is adamant that I call you Mr Mellark…” She replied, as usual.

Peeta smiled as he took off his glasses to clean them, a gesture Katniss knew he did when he needed to think. How many times did she witness him doing so while at school or here at the Ministry?

Which prompted her to immediately wonder How long did I spend watching him clean his glasses exactly to be able to know he uses theis move as a way to think ?

Too long, apparently. What Katniss pretended not to notice was the amount of time she had spent watching Peeta Mellark, or being nearby Peeta Mellark.

Some days, she found herself daydreaming about a future that would never happen. How could someone like him be attracted to someone like her ?

Their relationship was based on work, and work alone. She just had to convince her brain of that.

“Then let’s do this, Katniss, when it’s the two of us, you’ll call me Peeta. If the old Haymitch is around, you’ll go with Mr Mellark. Would this work?” He asked.

She smiled her answer.“It could work, I think.”

(Turns out, he got used of her calling him Mr. Mellark in the dark of their bedroom too.)

#tales of panem #talesofpanem #make up week #week 10 #work #thegirlfromoverthepond #submission

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jlalafics · 5 years

Text

Part Three of “Rent Control”

So there I was, hellbent on just having three parts...and now there’s a fourth coming.

In the meantime, enjoy this next part of the story.

If you haven’t read the other parts, follow the links below:

Part One

Part Two

Summary: Katniss Everdeen has found the perfect home in San Francisco—great neighborhood, an easy commute and, best of all, it’s rent controlled. There’s only one problem; the landlord will only rent to a married couple.

Enter Peeta Mellark.

_____

Rent Control

Part Three

One month later…

“Hey there, Mrs. Mellark!”

Katniss grinned at the dark-skinned man at the front counter. “Hey, Thresh! Is Peeta ready?”

“He’s just in the back finishing up with the inventory,” he informed her. “Feel free to go in and check on him—make sure he hasn’t drowned in coffee beans.”

She nodded, waving before rushing into the back room, her thoughts on everything that had happened since that first kiss. It had been an interesting month for them. They had decided to give ‘dating’ a try—and by dating she meant fantastic make-out sessions and mind-blowing sex.

If Katniss had known how great sex could be in her pretend marital bed, she may have considered marriage much sooner.

Part of her knew that it wasn’t all about the sex, there was also the ‘after’ of it all. The kisses against her sweaty temple, the feeling of his strong arms encircling her waist so she could play the small spoon. When Katniss was in her husband’s arms, she felt safe…and loved.

Ahh…love. That was a much more complicated subject between them.

“Peeta?” she called out as she opened the door to the breakroom. “You ready?”

Silence.

Katniss walked further down toward the open doorway of the stockroom, finding it empty.

“Where the hell is he?”

There was suddenly a set of arms rounding her waist and rough lips against her ear.

“Tell me—” Katniss groaned as teeth nipped gently on her lobe. “Does the smell of coffee do anything for you?”

She chuckled quietly, her hand reaching back to run her fingers through his pomade-maneuvered locks.

“I do adore a blond roast,” Katniss said as her hair was moved aside, and soft kisses were stamped on her neck. “Or a Sumatra…”

“Hey!” She turned as an indignant Peeta pulled away. “That’s Starbucks!” He put his hand to his forehead dramatically. “How could you?”

Laughing, Katniss wrapped her arms around his neck, her lips in a mock pout. “I’m sorry.”

Peeta grinned, his blue eyes shining at her. “At least you love a blond roast.” He planted a full kiss on her lips. “Hello, wife.”

“Hello, husband,” she greeted back. “Are you ready?”

“Peeta!” Thresh suddenly called out. “I’m heading out, locking the door behind me!”

“Got it!” Peeta called out. “See you tomorrow!”

Peeta turned back to her. “Just going to save my inventory numbers, then we can go.” Katniss nodded in agreement. “But, first…would you be interested in learning about our variety of roasts?”

She raised a brow. “What?”

He placed his hands on her shoulders, leading her towards the stock room.

Peeta’s mouth went behind her ear—her weak spot!—as he pressed himself against her backside.

Suddenly, she had a deep need to learn about coffee.

++++++

“You dirty, little sex monkey!”

“Mommy?”

Annie turned to Jack, playing on the rug adjacent to them.

“Sorry, honey…just excited about Aunt Katniss’ story!” After a wide-eyed Jack went back to playing with his blocks, Annie turned back to her friend. “I always wanted to try doing it at work.”

“You own a restaurant, so I’m sure it’s possible,” Katniss responded. “On the other hand, it sounds totally unsanitary.”

Annie and Jack had wandered up into the apartment when Finnick had cajoled Peeta into a game of one-on-one at a nearby park. It was the great part about living in the building; everyone had an open-door policy and it wasn’t unusual for the Odairs—or anyone else, for that matter—to just pop in. Katniss was more than happy to welcome the very pregnant mother and son into their much-more-decorated apartment.

More photos lined the mantle, including one from their welcome party featuring everyone in the building, gifted to them by Effie. The couch, previously owned by the Odairs, was charcoal grey and so plush that Katniss often found herself sinking into the cushions for a nap after a long day at the boutique. Peeta often found her passed out on it when he got home and would have to carry her into their bedroom.

Not like he minded.

Their cream and grey rug matched it perfectly and it had been cushy enough for them to lounge on when they had no furniture. Now Jack sat on it, looking up at Katniss adorably with his sea-green eyes.

“Yeah, but it’s the thrill of being caught.” Annie sighed; her eyes closed. “Oh, to be young and in love…”

Katniss laughed. “Annie! You’re the same age as me!”

“I know, but it’s hard to have alone time when you have a toddler starfishing in your bed,” her friend responded.

“Starfishing?”

Annie threw her arms and legs out. “See? Like a starfish. Finnick would have to maneuver over Jack to even hold my hand!”

“Poor, horny Annie.” Katniss patted her arm. “If you ever need us to babysit Jack, we would be happy to. Especially before the twins get here.”

Annie blinked back tears. “I would love that…I really am terribly horny.”

The two women burst into laughter.

“So, this is where the hot girls are!”

They looked to the doorway where Finnick and Peeta stood, matching grins on their faces.

“Daddy!” Jack ran to his father and Finnick easily scooped him up. “Horny.”

Peeta turned to the women on the couch.

“What exactly were you talking about?”

++++++

“So, why primroses?” Beetee asked as he knelt in front of the patch of soil. “I think they’re going to look great in the spring.”

Katniss settled next to him, handing him a spade so he could continue tending to the garden.

“Primrose is my sister’s name,” she explained. “And, besides Peeta—she is the person that I’m closest to.”

“That’s lovely.” Beetee sat back and gave her a gentle smile. “They are a perfect addition to our garden.”

Effie had informed her and Peeta that each new tenant contributed to the garden by picking out a plant or flower to be added, courtesy of Beetee. The tradition started when she and Haymitch first bought the building. They planted a lemon tree that stood in the back corner of the yard and it was used regularly by tenants as well as neighbors.

“How’s it going?” They turned to find Peeta walking over. Holding a hand out to Katniss, he helped her up before pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “The primroses look beautiful; your sister will be flattered that she’s an addition to the garden.”

“I’m going to send her a picture later,” Katniss informed him. A sweet breeze swept through the yard and she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. “It’s the perfect weather today.”

“I agree,” Beetee said. “As an old girlfriend of mine said, this is date night weather.”

Peeta chuckled. “Seems like she was majorly hinting.”

Beetee shook his head. “Maybe that’s why we never passed the six-month mark. I was a bit dense in the romance department.” He grinned as he stood up. “What was your first date night like?”

“Uh…” Katniss suddenly felt jumbled, her brain going through many scenarios but not quite landing on the right one. “So…I can’t remember.” She turned to Peeta. “Sorry, babe.”

“Yeah, well, it isn’t your fault,” he told her easily before looking to Beetee. “We never had a real official date. It was more like coffee hangouts and movie nights.”

“Well, get on that boy!” Beetee pronounced.

Peeta turned to her. “How would you like to go on a date?” His cheeks were tinged pink with embarrassment. “One without coffee or Netflix.”

Katniss found herself beaming at him. “I’d love to.”

++++++

“I like that dress,” Peeta said from across the dinner table.

Katniss looked down at the flowy rust-orange dress before meeting his eyes once more.

“I borrowed it from Effie…actually I think she gave it to me. She said I had the hips for it—whatever that means.”

“I bet you it was better than the little talk that Haymitch gave me about not getting fresh with a lady,” he told her.

She leaned forward, making sure that he could see the bit of cleavage from the V-neck opening of the dress.

“But what if the lady wants to get fresh with you?”

“You’re going to get me in trouble,” Peeta replied as he reached for his very full glass of wine.

“I know, but I haven’t steered you wrong so far,” she told him. Her eyes looked around the cozy restaurant, furnished with wood tables and vintage chairs. “Annie did a great job with this place. It could use a greenery wall in the back to give more of that homey feel that it already has.”

“You’re definitely a Design Major.” Peeta gazed at her, his eyes lit with warmth. “Why did you decide on Johanna’s instead of going for a design firm? Not like it’s not great place or anything...”

Katniss shrugged. “I didn’t want to work under anyone. I always wanted to design on my own.” She met his eyes. “At least with Johanna, she gives me some sort of creative outlet. She’s less of a boss and more like a friend who happens to pay me.”

“You have free rein on the apartment, you know.” He reached over and took her hand. “Maybe when I finally get Mellark Bakery over to the west coast, you can design the layout for the space—if you’re not too in-demand by then.”

Katniss squeezed his hand in response. “I will always make time for you…for us.”

Peeta leaned down to press a kiss to her knuckles. “I hope that’s for a long time.”

She really…really hoped so, too.

“Katniss?”

Looking up, Katniss almost fell off her chair. “Gale?”

Her high school boyfriend stared at her nervously, his grey eyes fleeting between her and Peeta.

“I’m here with some work colleagues,” he informed her before nodding at the bar where a group of similarly suited men stood, along with a pretty blonde in a black dress who seemed to be staring her down. “Just a little catch-up with the firm.”

“Our neighbor is the executive chef and owner,” Peeta suddenly piped in.

Katniss gave his hand an assuring squeeze before looking to Gale. “This is Peeta Mellark—my husband.”

Gale looked taken aback but gathered himself quickly. “Gale Hawthorne—a friend of Katniss’.”

He held out his hand for Peeta to shake.

Peeta took his hand, shaking it, his own stare firm.

“Oh, come now—you’re a little more than that. Katniss and I don’t keep secrets from each other.”

“Yeah, I followed him here.” Her eyes went to Peeta, her lips rising in a smile. “But if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have met you.”

“Then, I guess I owe Gale,” he replied, his own gaze on her. Peeta looked up at the man. “Thank you for bringing her to me.”

“No problem…I guess,” Gale said tightly. “Listen, I have to get going, but it was great seeing you again—and it was great meeting you, Peeta.”

“Of course,” they chorused together.

Katniss met Gale’s eyes. Once upon a time, she couldn’t look at him without swooning and after they broke up, she couldn’t think about him without her chest squeezing in pain.

Now, as she looked at him, she felt nothing.

“Goodbye, Gale.”

Giving her a tight smile, he stumbled off to rejoin his group.

Peeta looked. “You okay?”

Katniss nodded, cupping his cheek before leaning across the table to place a gentle kiss on his lips. Her heart leapt hearing his content sigh against her mouth.

They pulled apart, their eyes never straying from one another.

“I’ve never been better,” she told him as they stood to leave.

Together, they walked hand in hand out of the restaurant.

They didn’t even notice Gale frantically texting on his phone.

++++++

“Do you think you got enough flour?” Katniss teased as they walked into their apartment building. “I mean, I can understand one bag, but four…you are insane.”

“You have to understand that these are not just any old flours,” Peeta said, his arm reaching around her waist to pull her close. “One is regular white flour, one is coconut, one is almond, and the other whole wheat. They may seem the same, but they have different effects. Plus, they are all local. Imagine if I opened Mellark Bakery, I would need a place to buy flour and why not local?”

“Farmers’ Markets have never been this interesting.” Katniss reached into her bag as they reached their floor. “I have to drop off some stuff to Annie and Beetee. Come with me?”

“Of course.” Together, they walked up the flight of stairs and into the open door of the Odairs’ apartment. “Hello?”

On the weekends, everyone usually left their door open for visits from one another. It had been an interesting first weekend for them when Effie came knocking and they had to scramble to make themselves presentable.

“We’re in here!” Finnick’s voice came from the back of the apartment. “Bedroom!”

“You better not be naked!” Katniss responded as they carefully walked down the hallway to the room. “I brought the honey that Annie wanted.”

“Please don’t tell us that you’re doing something that you’ll need the honey for!” Peeta said as he closed his eyes.

Katniss peeked into the room, letting out a sigh. “Open your eyes, Peeta.”

Annie, Finnick, and Jack were all on the bed, their friend’s belly exposed.

“Hey Mellarks,” Finnick greeted with a jaunty smile. “We were just listening to the babies.”

It was then that they noticed the pair of earbuds resting on Annie’s stomach along with a small box.

“It’s to catch the fetal heartbeat,” Annie explained as she scooted up. She turned the box over to show them a small probe as she placed an earbud in one of her ears. “All I do is move it…here.” Annie handed Katniss the other earbud. “Listen.”

Carefully, Katniss sat on the edge of the bed next to Annie and took the earbud, placing it in her ear.

“Hear that?” Annie said to her. “That galloping is the heartbeat of one of the twins.”

Katniss felt her heart pound when the sound of galloping hit her ears. “I hear it!” Her mouth rose into a grin. “That’s amazing!”

Her eyes met Peeta’s, warmth in his own. For a moment, Katniss wondered how he might be like as a father. Probably great—better than she would be as a mother, anyway.

She turned back to Annie, who beamed at her. “I know that look.” Her friend nodded at her husband in the doorway. “It’s that look guys get when they’re trying to figure out how to plant their seed in you.”

“That’s…descriptive,” Katniss replied. “But, it’s still so early for that.”

“Are you sure?” Annie questioned, peering at her curiously. “We’re the same age and I had Jack about three years ago...but it might be different for you two.”

Looking back at Peeta, Katniss felt her heart sink at the thought that maybe later he might be having children with someone else.

“Yeah, maybe,” she managed to muster.

++++++

“Gorgeous artichokes,” Beetee said as he peeked into the bag that Peeta handed him. “Thanks for bringing these over.” He placed them on his kitchen island. “An old friend of mine is coming down from Portland and I’m cooking her dinner tonight.”

“Friend, huh?” Katniss chuckled seeing the man go scarlet.

“I’ve known Wiress since forever,” he told them plainly.

“But sometimes it can become more,” Peeta said. “Katniss and I were friends for a good few months then, all of a sudden, it was like I couldn’t live without her.”

She whipped around. “Really?”

Peeta went to her, lifting her chin. “I mean, who could live without these smoky eyes?” His hand went to her cheek. “Or these freckles?” Leaning down, he traced her lips with his thumb. “Or this bow on her lip?”

“Very descriptive,” Beetee told them with a small smile. “I will keep that in mind.” There was a beep and the man reached into his pocket to pull out his phone. “Effie is calling you down.”

“We have to get these into our place and then we’ll head over,” Peeta said. “I’ll bring up a loaf for tonight’s special dinner. It will go great with that raspberry spread that we got you.”

“Thanks.” The man waved them off. “Now, go—you’ve made me nervous!”

They laughed as they walked down the flight of stairs to their floor.

“I wonder what Effie wants,” Peeta said as they took their last step down.

“Probably just wondering what our plans are for tonight,” Katniss said.

He put an arm around her. “I was hoping for a quiet night of me and you—and The Great British Bake Off.”

Katniss quickly pressed a kiss to his lips as they stepped into their apartment.

“As long as you cook then I’m game for anything.”

“Katniss Everdeen—how could you!”

She turned to find her mother standing in front of them, the framed photo of their ‘wedding’ in her hands.

++++++

“Mom?”

Katniss was definitely the spitting image of the woman standing in front of them.

Except this woman looked pissed.

“Katniss!” A young blonde suddenly appeared and hugged his wife. Peeta recognized Prim immediately, despite the fact that she wasn’t wearing pigtails like her photo on their mantle. When Prim pulled away, her blue eyes were panicked, and the girl got closer to Katniss. “I was texting you…”

“My phone service sucks,” Katniss said, quietly bewildered. “It’s hard to get a signal when you’re on the train.”

Prim looked between them. “Why did you never mention…” She looked to Peeta. “…him?”

Katniss turned to him. “We are so fucked.”

The sound of laughter echoed in the hall and they all turned to find Effie and Haymitch, accompanied by a dark-haired man. They were all holding glasses of what was looked like Haymitch’s favorite rum.

“Katniss, your father is such a charmer,” Effie said as they entered the apartment. The woman went to her, eyebrows furrowed. “You look grey.”

“Stephen.” They all looked to Katniss’ mother, still gripping the wedding photo. “Look.”

Katniss let out a pained moan and Peeta pulled her close to keep her from keeling over.

Her father took the photo, staring at it for a moment before giving it back to his wife.

Silently, he walked over to them and Peeta braced himself. Katniss’ father was a burly man and he had that look about him—like he could hurl his daughter’s fake husband down the building’s stairs.

“Congratulations, baby,” he said softly before holding his hand out to Peeta. “Stephen Everdeen—your father-in-law.”

Carefully, Peeta shook his father-in-law’s hand—just in case it was a trick and he was actually going to break his wrist.

Katniss lifted her head from his shoulder to look at her dad. “You’re not mad?”

“When Hazelle called and told us that Gale insisted that we come to San Francisco, I thought the worst!” he informed her.

“This isn’t the worst-case scenario?” his wife suddenly burst out.

“Katniss, Peeta—you hid this from your parents?” Effie scolded. “For a year?”

“You’ve been married for a year?” Katniss’ mother screeched.

“Robin, you made it seem like something terrible happened—like she had married Gale!” Her dad said. He looked to where Katniss and Peeta clung to one another. “This I can deal with. I mean, he looks completely harmless.”

Peeta wasn’t sure if he felt insulted or flattered. Behind him, Haymitch guffawed at the man’s words.

“I didn’t realize that you hated my best friend’s son that much.” Katniss’ mother had crossed her arms, scowling at her husband.

“Honey, that is not what I meant.” Stephen went to his wife. “You know that he was a tool who dropped our daughter like a hot potato as soon as he discovered the joy of college girls. Is that what you wanted for our girl?”

“No,” Katniss’ mother said petulantly. “But, married for a year?” She looked to Katniss, her eyes watering. “Why not tell us?”

“We’re sorry,” Katniss said quietly. “We planned to, but then it just got too hard.”

“And, before we knew it, it was a year,” Peeta finished for them. “My parents don’t know either, if that helps.”

“It doesn’t,” Prim told him bluntly. “I’m Prim, by the way…your sister-in-law.”

There was a sharp whistle and they all turned to see Haymitch at the doorway.

“Now that we are all caught up, might I suggest that we get some rest and then meet up for dinner in the backyard,” their landlord said. “Mr. and Mrs. Everdeen will stay in our guest room. Prim can stay on Katniss and Peeta’s couch, if that’s okay with her.”

“I’m cool with that,” Prim said, eyeing the couple.

“Robin, would you like a drink?” Effie asked, approaching Katniss’ still shell-shocked mother.

The woman nodded and, with a wink from their landlord, Robin was whisked off to the Abernathy apartment.

Immediately after the apartment door across shut, Prim turned on them.

“Now, what’s really going on?”

++++++

“Oh shit.”

Peeta set down the plate of buns and homemade jam before joining Katniss and Prim on their couch.

“Yeah, I know,” Katniss agreed as she took Peeta’s hand. It had taken an hour to explain the whole complicated tale that they had woven to Prim—enough time for Peeta to start therapeutically baking. “But, we’re happy.”

He kissed the side of her head. “We are.”

“But, you’re lying,” Prim replied as she took a bun and tore it open. “Everyone thinks you’re married!” She looked to Peeta as she took the butter knife on the plate and smeared jam all over the bun. “Your parents don’t even know. How long do you think you can keep this up?”

“We had agreed on a year,” Katniss told her sister. “But, you’re right, we should tell everyone.”

Prim took a bite of the bun and her eyes went wide. “Oh damn! This is delicious!” She looked to Peeta and grinned through her chews. “Now I can understand why my sister pretend-married you. She can’t cook anything.”

“Hey!” Katniss looked to her sister incredulously. “That’s not fair. His family has a bakery!”

“I’m not with Katniss because of any of that,” Peeta told her sister. “I care for her. I want to be with her—for as long as she wants…”

Katniss felt her eyes burn at his words. “You do?”

Peeta pressed his forehead to hers, his blue eyes glowing. “I do.”

“You two are just the cutest fakest couple ever,” Prim concluded as she polished off the last of the buns. “Are there any more?”

++++++

It was during dinner that the other shoe was dropped.

“I’ve decided that you’re going to have a proper wedding,” Katniss’ mother pronounced.

Everyone had gathered except for Beetee who was having his dinner with Wiress. Their neighbor had introduced her on everyone, a blush on his cheeks that matched the shy woman’s scarlet complexion.

The Odairs had joined them and, at Katniss’ insistence, Johanna. She could always count on Johanna to keep things civil—or be a distraction.

Katniss looked over to where her mother sat next to Effie, who apparently, she had become quite buddy-buddy with. “What?”

“Since you decided to leave us out of your official wedding, I think it’s only right that we have another ceremony with both our families,” her mother informed her.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea!” Effie agreed, her eyes bright. “However, that does take a lot of time—planning a wedding.”

“I used to be an event planner when the girls were still little,” Robin explained. “So, it’s a no-brainer for me. Getting it done in two weeks might be a little difficult, but we can’t take any more time away since Stephen has so many patients that need him at the clinic.”

“Two weeks?” The comment came from Peeta, who had suddenly gone pale. Underneath the table, the grip on Katniss’ hand had suddenly tightened. “And, I haven’t told my parents—”

“No need,” Katniss’ mother replied. “I have already called them and introduced myself. They should be arriving in a day or two.”

“How did you even get their contact information, mom?” Prim asked, next to Johanna.

Haymitch cleared his throat. “I might’ve had Beetee get their contact information.” He avoided Katniss’ glare. “Also, Google.”

“I have a great idea,” Effie said. “We can do the ceremony here in the garden, along with the reception. There’s more than enough room…and I know someone who can design a lovely arch for the ceremony to take place under.”

“I can do the catering,” Annie added from her seat. “I know a few bakeries willing to make a wedding cake for me, too.”

“I’ll take care of the music,” Finnick said, rubbing his wife’s back. “Beetee can help with connecting a sound system.”

Robin nodded in approval until she reached Johanna. “And, what will you contribute?”

For the first time since Katniss had met Johanna, she could tell that her friend was flustered.

“Um…I guess bridesmaid dresses and such?”

“What about a wedding gown?” her mother probed.

Johanna squirmed. “I don’t think I have anything like that—"

“Wait! Katniss can use mine!” Effie called out excitedly. “It was awhile ago, but I think the silhouette is still in fashion.” She smiled warmly at Katniss. “It would be an honor if you would.”

Katniss could see the tears in Effie’s eyes—how could she refuse?

She turned to Peeta who looked like he was about to faceplant into his plate any moment now, before turning to her landlord.

“I would love that.”

++++++

“I’m exhausted.” Katniss flopped on the bed, closing her eyes as Peeta joined her wearily. “You okay?”

“Other than the fact that both of our families have swarmed into our lives like locusts?” He chuckled quietly. “I guess I’m okay.” She opened her own eyes to find him gazing at her. “Come here. I need to hold you.”

She shifted to lay her head on his chest, her arm splaying across his stomach. “I’m sorry that this is such a mess.”

“When do we tell them?” he asked her.

“When your parents arrive.” she suggested.

Peeta turned his head towards her. “Katniss, I’m not ready to give you up.”

She looked up at him, her hand reaching for his cheek. “Neither am I…does it have to end badly though?”

“Effie and Haymitch…everyone else…they’re going to hate us,” Peeta replied. “I don’t want them to.”

“I know.” Katniss swallowed the lump in her throat. “They’re like…”

“Family,” he finished for her. “And, Katniss, you know…” Peeta stopped to sit them both up, his expression serious before meeting her stare. “You know that I lo—”

“KATNISS! PEETA! Open up!”

They shot out of bed, pulling open their door and heading down the hallway to the frantic knocking coming from their front door.

Prim sat up sleepily from the couch. “W-What’s going on?”

Opening the door, they found Finnick with Jack in his arms and a panting Annie, holding a bag.

“It’s time,” he told them before handing Jack to Peeta. Thankfully, the little boy was fast asleep. “We’ll call you guys as soon as we can.”

“Of course,” Peeta agreed, patting Jack’s back.

“Do you have everything?” Katniss asked. “Or, do you need us to call anyone?”

“No…” Annie breathed out. “We have no other family…just you guys…”

Katniss felt something tighten in her chest at her friend’s words.

“Of course.” She gave Annie and Finnick a hug. “Don’t worry. We’ll take care of Jack.”

“Good luck,” Peeta added.

Closing the door, they looked at one another then at Prim, who was already falling back asleep, before their eyes went to Jack.

“I guess we have another addition to our bed,” Katniss whispered.

Peeta shifted the toddler in his arms. “Guess so.”

Prim snorted, somewhere between dreams and sleep.

“Perfect birth control for those imaginary children that you’re trying to prevent!”

Katniss chuckled, ignoring her sister’s words. “Let’s get him to the room.”

It was later that night as she watched Jack and Peeta sleep that she realized just how much Prim’s remark had affected her.

Katniss did want children. Deep inside—in that small vulnerable space that she kept hidden away—is where she admitted that she maybe wanted them with Peeta.

++++++

Within the next few days, there were several new additions to the building.

Sarah and Rose Odair arrived in the wee hours of the morning. While born early, both were perfectly healthy, and sporting their father’s fiery locks. Annie and the girls were released after a day or two and everyone, especially Effie, were excited for their arrival.

Peeta, along with Stephen and Haymitch, helped build the nursery since the parents didn’t have the chance. It was then that Peeta got to know his faux father-in-law. He was an oncologist at a prominent hospital and clinic where his hours were long, but the job was fulfilling.

“What do you want to do career-wise?” Stephen asked as they sat in the half-done nursery, which was also Jack’s room—whenever he decided to sleep in it.

“My parents own a bakery in Washington D.C. It’s called Mellark Bakery, of course,” Peeta started. “And, I wanted to expand it to the West Coast. I majored in Business and created a pretty solid plan…but they still need convincing.”

Stephen chuckled as he finished bolting one side of the crib that the twins would be sharing.

“I’ve been there,” the man told him. “My parents were unsure of my plans to go to medical school. I was a bit of rebel—caused all kinds of trouble in high school—and so they also needed convincing. Hand me that flathead?”

Peeta handed him the necessary screwdriver. “And, how did you convince them?”

“I didn’t. Robin did,” Stephen said. “She has a lot of conviction—like Katniss.” He went back to tightening the bolt. “Maybe you might want to have Katniss convince your parents.”

Peeta shook his head. “I wouldn’t want her to do that. I mean, I’m glad she supports me, but I need them to have faith in me—if this business plan is going to work.”

Stephen stopped, placing the screwdriver down, before turning to him.

“That’s how I know you’ll be good for my girl. You want her to walk beside you, not behind or in front. You’re equals. I love my wife, but she had a lot of work when she took me on!” The man laughed. “And if Katniss had been with Gale, she would be his little wife, playing hostess and such. I never wanted that for her.”

“If anyone really knows Katniss, they would know that she was never meant to be on the sidelines.”

The man grinned at him, patted his shoulder, before they both fell back into working on the crib.

++++++

The Mellarks showed up the day after the twins came home. They arrived in a black Sedan, smartly dressed, and obviously curious about Peeta’s life in San Francisco.

Peeta’s father Christopher was tall and sandy-haired—it was obvious where Peeta had inherited his kind, blue eyes and bright smile from. Katniss almost swooned; she would never admit it to anyone though, thinking that Peeta would be the mirror image of his father when he was older.

Peeta’s mother Daphne was petite and slender with ice-blue eyes and a sharp face. However, when she saw Peeta, her mouth broke into a wide smile, bringing warmth to her expression.

“Darling!” She kissed her son on the cheek, pressing a bright-red lip imprint on him. “You look wonderful!”

Peeta raised his brows in confusion. “I do?”

“Happier,” his mother said before looking to Katniss. “This must be Katniss.” Daphne reached out her hand for Katniss to take. “I’m Daphne Mellark—your mother-in-law.”

“It’s wonderful to meet you, Mrs. Mellark,” Katniss said congenially.

“Please, call me Daphne…or Mom!” The woman told her.

“Daphne! Is that you?” Katniss’ mom was suddenly embracing the woman excitedly; the two were practically bouncing. “You’re just in time! Effie and I were just working on Katniss’ dress!”

“I can’t wait to see it!” Daphne exclaimed.

The two rushed off, hand in hand and skipping away.

“That was…weird,” Peeta said.

“Like watching two cheerleaders pumping themselves up for a competition,” Katniss added with an amused smile.

“Your mother is just excited to have some female company,” Peeta’s father informed the two. He hugged Peeta before extending a hand to Katniss. “Christopher—your father-in-law.”

Katniss shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, sir…and can I just say—wow.”

The man laughed before pressing a kiss to her cheek. “I think you’re going to be a great addition to the family.”

“Where are Bran and Alex?” Peeta asked.

“They were heading up when Prim and Johanna accosted them in the backyard. Couldn’t resist that Mellark charm,” his father replied with a grin. “I’m going to head to Effie and Haymitch’s. Your father and Haymitch promised me a great whiskey tasting while your mothers take over your wedding.”

“Oh good,” Katniss said weakly.

Peeta put an arm around her. “Let’s go see my brothers.”

They all separated in the hallway and together, Katniss and Peeta made their way downstairs.

“I have to warn you,” Peeta started. “My brothers can be…boisterous.”

“That’s fine,” she replied as they walked into the backyard door. “I just saw our moms bouncing like two sorority sisters on spring break.”

Peeta laughed, kissing her affectionately on the cheek.

“PEETA!”

Katniss yelped, seeing the two figures rush towards them. She hurried away, joining Prim and Johanna, both staring shamelessly at the three blonds.

“Bran! Alex! Quit it!” Peeta yelled.

“Oh no, little brother!” one of them responded.

“It’s time for the Mellark roundup—and you get to be in the middle!” the other added.

Katniss along with Prim and Johanna watched as the brothers jumped, Peeta helplessly in the middle, and began to shout:

“Mellark! Mellark! Mellark!”

“It’s like an all blond rugby match,” Katniss said in amazement.

“Or a really hot Swiss porn,” Johanna added.

“Can you see them in lederhosen?” Prim asked.

Simultaneously, they all tilted their heads trying to imagine the Mellark brothers in the get-up, suspenders and all.

They weren’t disappointed.

When the brothers separated, Peeta embraced them both before leading them to Katniss.

He reached for her hand, giving her a happy smile. “Bran, Alex—this is my Katniss.”

A rush of warmth engulfed her—she was his Katniss.

The taller blond in a business suit and leather loafers approached her. “Bran Mellark, the oldest…and the best.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Congratulations. I can tell that Peeta has himself a great girl.”

Alex bounced over to her. His hair was much lighter, and his blues were more like Daphne’s. However, the roundness of them were Peeta and Christopher’s.

“Sis…” He lifted her off the ground. “I can’t believe that Peeta snagged you. You know I’m still available.” Alex winked flirtatiously.

“I much prefer this particular Mellark,” Katniss said, her hand going to Peeta’s shoulder.

“Well, now that you’re part of the family…” Alex looked to Bran and nodded.

“You have to be part of the Mellark round-up,” Bran finished.

Katniss shook her head. “I’m good.”

However, they were already sandwiching her and Peeta between them.

“This is like a fantasy and a nightmare all at the same time,” she told Peeta.

Peeta grimaced. “This is my nightmare.”

There was nothing she could do about it now because they were already jumping.

Prim rushed over, tripping over her feet. “Let me join in! I’m your sister, too!”

“Wait!” Johanna was never one to be left out. “Me, too!”

Katniss met Peeta’s eyes as both her sister and friend joined in on the chanting, their arms wrapped around their very own Mellark brother:

“Mellark! Mellark! Mellark!”

Katniss smiled wryly.

“Now this is my nightmare.”

++++++

“Good evening, everyone.” Katniss’ father stood at the head of the table. “If we haven’t been properly introduced, I am Katniss’ father, Stephen. My wife along with Peeta’s parents, Christopher and Daphne, want to thank you for welcoming our families into your homes.” He looked out at the table of people, assembled outside in the backyard of the apartment. “We also want to thank Effie and Haymitch, who have welcomed our children, Katniss and Peeta, to become part of their makeshift family.”

Effie beamed and Haymitch put an arm affectionately around his wife’s shoulders.

“I know that it might seem fast to be having this wedding in a mere few days,” Stephen continued. “But, I guess that’s just the way things have fallen into place. From what we’ve been told, that’s how the first wedding happened.” He eyed Katniss and Peeta affectionately. “I am not too surprised, however. I know my girl, Katniss, and she has always instinctively known what was right.”

Immediately, Katniss’ chest began pounding. There was a slow balloon of air filling her chest and she swallowed it down, giving everyone a tight smile.

“Katniss was named after her grandmother, a woman of great conviction and bravery. A woman who was never afraid to tell the truth—even if it hurt…”

The balloon was getting bigger and Katniss gulped trying to catch her breath.

“…and when I first looked at my baby girl, I knew that she would be just like my mother—”

She couldn’t breathe!

Abruptly, Katniss gasped and pushed up from table. “E-Excuse me!”

“Sis, are you okay?” Prim asked from across the table.

She nodded, though her head was spinning. “I-I-I’ll be right back!”

Turning, Katniss rushed out of the yard and sprinted into the building. Gripping the stair railing, she pulled herself up towards her floor and practically flung herself into her apartment.

With a slam of the door, she felt the tears escape.

She was a fraud.

“Katniss?”

Peeta was closing the door behind him and she reached for him.

Immediately, he wrapped his arms around her, his hand going through her hair. “What’s going on?”

“All of them there…acting like a family…and us lying to them…” Katniss swiped her hand across her hands. “They’re all going to be heartbroken when they find out.”

Peeta nodded in understanding.

“Then…we don’t tell them.”

Katniss started at his words. “What?”

“We do the ceremony,” Peeta said. “And like we agreed, we move in one year…or just break up.” He looked torn. “It’s what we agreed on.”

“Well, that was before—”

Before she had fallen in love with him.

The realization hit hard.

And, she couldn’t breathe again.

End of Part Three

Yeah, I’m a liar. There’s going to be a part four. It was getting crazy long.

However, I’m sure the next part will be much shorter.

Thanks for reading y’all!

Until the end, JLaLa

#Rent Control #Everlark #Everlark Fanfiction #fakemarriage!au

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readswithreed · 4 years

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Throne of Glass by Sarah J Maas

I really loved this book and I’m excited by the adventures to come in this series. There are some aspects of reading these books while knowing some spoilers that makes me a little sad that I’m missing out on the full ToG experience. On the other hand, I’m slightly more prepared for some future heartache (only slightly because my heart still feels things, okay?)

Anyway, reading reactions and thoughts down below the cut. 👇🏻👇🏻👇🏻

& If you want more Reed Reads ToG:

Reed Reads The Assassin’s Blade

Reed Reads Crown of Midnight

I texted myself the following to log all of my reactions, thoughts, and gifs while reading:

I already have so many questions going into this book. What happened to magic that it disappeared? Who had the magic? What is Celaena hiding about her past and Terrasen?

This synopsis raises a lot of questions too but I guess I’ll just jump in here.

Okay some of these names sound familiar from various tumblr posts but I can’t remember the context in which I read them. Maybe for the best here.

It breaks my heart knowing (some of) what she’s been through and now she’s admitting that she knew escaping was impossible and she basically hoped they would kill her.

Dorian, crown prince of Adarlan, wants Celaena, Adarlan’s Assassin, to compete as his would-be champion and all I can think of is

Wait, Celaena is magic? Is she Fae?

Aww! Little faerie friends bringing her flowers. It’s so cute 🥰

So she gets to the castle and immediately makes her hair pin shank & hides it but she notices something off about the dimensions of the room. Hmm 🤔 Wonder what could be going on with that. Probably a secret passage way or hiding place

She dropped a flower pot on the girl talking shit 😂 Love this level of petty!!!

Some real Katniss Everdeen vibes in that training room.

I’m already loving the blooming friendship between Celaena & Princess Nehemia

Dogs remains found half-eaten and murdered men in ribbons.

So far I kind of like Dorian and Chaol but at this point I’m overly suspicious of everyone

Are Dorian and Chaol not-so subtly fighting over Celaena though?

I don’t trust Kaltain. She seems like she’s up to something. Maybe just after a crown but it seems like more than that.

Celaena’s playing piano and thinking of Sam (and crying?) 😭 my heart

Every training session and test, Chaol @ Celaena

Chaol likes to put so much emphasis on Celaena being an assassin like that’s all she can be is a killer and like that’s what she chose to become. In his defense, with his position and title, he SHOULD be wary of Celaena and those like her and she DOES have quite the reputation as Adarlan’s Assassin. BUT is he really going to just write off Celaena going out of her way to save Nox’s life as Celaena showing off? If she wanted to show off, she’d just win each test...

I’m trying to keep track of these potential champions. They started with 24. 1 was murdered (23), 1 was eliminated at test #1 (22), 1 was killed when he tried to escape (21), another was eliminated at test #2 (20). There was a second murder (19) and I’m assuming 2 more were eliminated at tests #3 (18) and #4 (17).

PTSD nightmares 😞

What are these Wyrdmarks? And what was Cain doing with them???

What did Nehemia see on Celaena’s face that made her suspicious of her??

Spooky mysterious hidden passages hidden behind a tapestry 😱

(I totally called it though)

Okay so it definitely seems like both Dorian and Chaol have a little bit of a crush on Celaena...

Chaol says that he’s concerned for the safety of the prince but implies he’s concerned with protecting Celaena... 🤨

So an ancient half-Fae Queen was led to Celaena (just as Celaena was led to Queen Elena’s tomb) so that she could give Celaena a message/warning that she was meant to defeat this great evil? And the Wyrdmarks are a portal being guarded by the gargoyles? Is that why everyone gets a bad feeling about the clock tower? And now I’m REALLY curious what Cain was doing to the Wyrdmarks.

Elena gave her an amulet... is that like the Archesian amulet Bryce Quinlan wears???

One more champion murdered. I believe that leaves us with 16 champions remaining

If Cain knows Celaena for who she truly is, how does he know her & what is he up to?

So Wyrdgates... are those like the gates in Crescent City???

It took me re-reading that library scene to realize that Chaol was picking on Celaena and making the spooky noises and there wasn’t genuinely something making that noise that only Celaena could here.

Dorian pulling the whole “no you’re holding it wrong, do it like this, here let me just show you” move & then totally getting called out on it! 😹

Why does Celaena seem like the sleepiest assassin?

I love how Celaena doesn’t even draw her sword, casually kicks ass and it just like “I’m bored. Give me someone actually worth fighting”

I’ve officially lost track of how many champions are left.

Celaena’s over here investigating crime scenes like she’s Aragorn tracking Merry & Pippin.

What the hell is going on with Perrington?? His eyes and the ring and is Kaltain involved? Does it have something to do with her headaches???

I’m sorry but why is Celaena not freaking out about this ghosty Fae queen keeps visiting her, leaving her with jewelry and hints??? Celaena’s just like

But apparently the creepy ghost Fae lady visits payoff if it means she doesn’t die of poison.

PUPPIES!!!

What the hell was that weird interaction with Cain???

Chaol was fine with vomit but the mention of Celaena being on her period...

Me, knowing full well these boys are not ENDGAME™: “I”m not gonna fall in love with any of these SJM boys except for THE ONE™”

Also me, still knowing full well it’s not going to end well:

So Dorian recognizes the amulet and seems suspicious...

Were the Wyrdmarks under Celaena’s bed targeting her or protecting her??

What is Nehemia hiding now?

I really can’t trust anyone in these books

Celaena waking up and eating so much candy her teeth turn red 😂😂😂 That’s ME!

Puppy present!!

Gotta admit, I would have been disappointed if Celaena didn’t crash the masked ball.

I remember reading something that said this book was vaguely inspired by Cinderella but Celaena entering the ball is the first and only time that I’ve even seen that. But that definitely was a Cinderella moment entrance.

I get that Celaena feels a bit guilty and like a bad friend for suspecting Nehemia but I still think she did the right thing. Plus she got to dance and flirt with Dorian.

That first kiss though!!

Okay this is what I love about SJM’s writing. I genuinely end up feeling what the character feels. Celaena fell in love with Sam & I fell in love with Sam. Celaena likes Dorian but also knows she shouldn’t like Dorian and I feel the same. She wants Chaol to like her and she’s warming to him. She’s friends with Nehemia but doesn’t fully trust her. It makes for an incredible reading experience but I know that there is a lot of upcoming heartbreak and anguish and trauma coming up that I’m not looking forward to.

Perrington you snakey snake of a man and Kaltain you simpering idiot!!!

So obviously it was Cain summoning the creature, not a shocker at all but it kind of doesn’t feel over... like maybe that was too easy. Not that being bitten and nearly dying is easy but that seemed less dramatic, fight-to-the-death-y than I was anticipating from a creature that was eating all of the champions organs.

Celaena seems to be back in the good graces with Nehemia but I can’t tell if Nehemia is withholding information because she’s up to something sneaky or because she doesn’t want to talk about magic???

I really can’t get a good read on Chaol. Because it seems like he likes Celaena or has a crush on her and is jealous of her flirtation with Dorian. But he’s not always that nice to Celaena and then he does something random and kind for her... jury is still out on this one.

Nox putting the pieces together about who Celaena really is

Kaltain is high af and seeing Cain for who he really is but why is she not more terrified??

Wyrdmarks under her bed again? I’m just asking again, could those possibly be protections?

More kissing 😽

Dorian is fully in love with Celaena, isn’t he?

I hate Kaltain & Perrington. I hope they both get their asses kicked.

The king may be a monster but he’s a true entertainer, putting Cain VS Celaena as the final duel

Nehemia offering Celaena her staff to fight the duel with, knowing full well that it’s a tiny act of rebellion to the king

I love how petty Celaena can be... “Better than Cain’s time”

The king definitely knows that Celaena was poisoned right? And just doesn’t give a fuck...

Ah!! This makes me so anxious.

Everyone watching the duel (& me reading it)

How does Cain know those specific things about Celaena???

Chaol telling Celaena what we’re all mentally screaming at her, “Get up!”

Celaena is being attacked by shadow demons & dead things in this hallucination world but everyone can clearly see her just fighting nothing??

Does Nehemia have something to do with Queen Elena showing up?? What’s she doing with her hands?

Celaena is a total fucking badass!! Even if she got help from Elena to remove the poison, Celaena is still severely wounded, and still beats the shit out of Cain AND WINS!!

But what's up with the mark on her forehead?

And Cain is a sore fucking loser

Dorian said it! He loves her!

Yeah, Kaltain was played for a fool

I know I didn’t always trust her but I do really like Nehemia.

And I knew the Wyrdmarks under Celaena’s bed were for protection!!

& now Dorian is verbalizing how much he really does care about Celaena

Perrington was controlling Kaltain? And Cain? How???

The king knows about the Wyrdmarks?? Is he using them somehow?

What the fuck are these two up to??

Chaol comes to check in on Celaena & as she’s thanking him, he’s like “gotta go, byeeeee” he’s so weird.

She’s breaking up with Dorian 😿

Is this a manipulation from Perrington & the king though?? Just because her thought process reminds me of some of Kaltain’s inner dialogue while she seemed to be under Perrington’s influence.

I mean its probably for the best Celaena is ending things with Dorian, knowing he’s not ENDGAME™ but if I was reading this without knowing certain information, I’d be very upset right now (I’m still a little bit upset right now)

I just feel really sad for Dorian because he does actually love her and she’s probably breaking his heart. 😭

What are these blood ties Elena speaks of??

She’s officially the king’s champion now...

Okay so who is the king going to make Celaena kill? What the hell are he and Perrington up to? What information is Elena going to continue revealing? What’s going to happen with Celaena x Dorian? Is Celaena x Chaol going to be a thing? (It doesn’t matter, Katie, because neither are ENDGAME™) What memories does Celaena have buried from her past? Are they secrets or a coping mechanism?

I can’t wait to read the next book.

#Reed Reads #Reed Reads ToG #throne of glass #ToG #tog spoilers #throne of glass spoilers #Reed's reading reactions #reading reaction #reading reactions #SJM #sarah j maas

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