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xerxia31 · 6 years

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Blanket Fort

The ever delightful #smutketeer extraordinaire @burkygirl sent me this link and a request, and how could I resist?

I give you E-rated Everlark blanket fort. Sorry it took so long, my friend.

Between the craziness of the holidays, the back-to-back snowstorms that rendered the roads treacherous for days on end, and the extreme cold that made it impossible to send the kids outdoors to play for more than a few minutes, Katniss was certain she was losing her mind. And it certainly didn’t help that half of Peeta’s staff had the flu. He’d been stuck late at the bakery every night since Christmas, leaving Katniss to deal with her cabin-fevered brood alone.

So when her friend Madge called and offered to take the kids for the night, Katniss did what any sane person would do - she gathered up pyjamas and toothbrushes for Willow and the twins and packed them all in the back of her Subaru.

Driving back down her long country driveway forty-five minutes later, Katniss began to relax, for the first time in weeks. An evening alone. She could have a long, hot bath, drink a glass of wine, and check Tumblr while awake enough to actually read it. Oh, maybe that incredible mermaid story would have an update? The possibilities were endless…

Shucking her boots and coat, she walked into the living room smiling to herself, only to stop dead in her tracks. The room was in complete disarray, blankets and pillows were everywhere, draped and piled over the furniture. Damn, she thought she’d cleaned up all of that crap earlier. Archer must have pulled it all out again while she was wrestling Rye into his snowsuit. As much as she adored her four-year-old sons, they were definitely going to be the death of her.

Her sigh looking at the mess was long and loud. So much for a relaxing evening; it was going to take the last of her energy just to refold all of the blankets and schlep them back to the linen closet. But then a mop of golden curls popped out of the chaos, and she jumped. “Peeta?”

With his pale curls and mischievous grin, Peeta Mellark was almost the spitting image of his sons, albeit bigger and older. But the glint in his crystalline blue eyes was all his own.

Katniss knew that expression. She loved that expression. Warmth spread throughout her, pooling in her core, dashing her annoyance at the mess and the interruption of her solitary plans. “You're home,” she murmured as he held open the flap of what she was beginning to see was a blanket fort and beckoned her inside with a wiggle of his brows. She rolled her eyes, but dropped to her knees to crawl in after him.

The fort was far more elaborate than she’d first thought, and while not huge inside, it was perfect for two. Peeta had strung up white twinkle lights and low music hummed from his docking station. And on what she thought was normally their ottoman (though it was hard to tell, all swathed as it was in sheets), sat a bottle of wine and a white bakery box that she hoped was full of Mellark’s famous cheese buns.

(She knew it would be.)

Once she’d clambered over the piles of throw cushions to sit beside Peeta, he pulled her into his arms. She was enveloped in warmth, wrapped in the scents of cinnamon and dill that clung to him a like a lover’s caress. Katniss sighed, curling into her husband as he kissed her hair, luxuriating in the comfort and quiet of their cozy little nest. “Gale texted me, let me know he and Madge have the rugrats,” he said. “I called in some favours so I could get home to you early for a change.” He buried his nose in her hair, inhaling deeply.

“Favours?” She sighed as his lips slid lower, his breath hot against her ear.

“Mmmm,” he agreed. “I might be making the cake for Thresh’s daughter’s sweet sixteen.”

Katniss laughed. “You were already going to make Rue’s birthday cake.” Peeta chuckled too, but the mirth cut off as she dragged her fingers under the hem of his shirt, palming the abdominal muscles that were still firm and flat even after ten years of marriage. Forget the wine and cheese buns, all she really wanted was Peeta.

He growled as her fingers slipped into his waistband. “I’m trying to seduce you here, with wine and treats,” he mumbled. “You’re spoiling my plans.” But the erection he thrust against her hip told her he wasn’t upset in the least.

Peeta slipped the buttons of her flannel shirt open, one by one, dipping his head to kiss each exposed inch of collarbone. Her fingers abandoned their wandering, sliding up to instead tangle in his curls, overlong, just the way she loved them.

She lost herself in sensation as Peeta explored maddeningly slowly, his stubble rasping across her skin. He kissed the soft swells above her simple cotton bra, groaning his appreciation into her flesh. “So sexy,” he whispered.

It hadn't been that long since the last time they'd made love, not really. But the stress and solitude of the past couple of weeks made it feel like forever. She was aching for him, body and soul. “I've missed you so much,” she breathed, then cringed at the vulnerability in her voice. She knew Peeta didn't want to be away so much, knew he hated missing out on their home life.

Peeta lifted his head. “I'm sorry I haven't been here,” he whispered, but she silenced him with a kiss.

“We’re here now,” she said against his lips.

“We’re here now,” he agreed. “And I just want to spend every possible minute with you.”

“I'll allow it,” Katniss smiled, tugging him to lie on top of her, revelling in the feeling of his solid weight pressing her down. Safe and cherished.

Peeta continued with his controlled exploration, as if he knew intuitively that what she needed at that moment was to be loved slowly, fully, with no distractions. Gentle hands caressed, peeled away each layer reverently, lips and tongue and teeth following, building in intensity until Katniss was nothing but a panting, squirming ball of need. “Please,” she begged. “Please, Peeta.”

“Tell me what you want,” he growled, gravel-voiced. Though she was in nothing but panties he was still fully clothed somehow, the seam of his trousers rubbing her just right as he rocked above her. Katniss arched against him, trying to tug off his shirt.

“You,” she gasped.

“I’m yours,” he said simply.

“Take off your clothes,” she whispered. He knelt between her splayed thighs, head brushing the roof of their blanket fort, static and twinkle-lights haloing him. Katniss licked her lips as he pulled off his tee, baring pale, toned skin kissed by burnished golden hair. He was impossibly hot, even hotter than he had been when they first started dating, way back in high school. She reached for him, stubby fingernails tracing his outer obliques, the oh-so-sexy vee that pointed downwards, beckoning her eyes to follow.

She couldn't resist cupping him over his khakis, and he twitched in her hand, his head falling forward, breath escaping in a shuddering moan. “Can you feel the effect you always have on me?” he murmured, thrusting shallowly against her hand. Katniss squeezed her affirmation, earning another guttural groan.

Together, they stripped away the last few garments between them.

“You're so wet,” Peeta panted appreciatively as his fingers found her core, circling with a confidence born of years together.

“I want you,” she gasped, knowing what that word would do to her husband. Though he was a strong, confident man, the shy teenager who took years to shore up enough courage just to speak to her still lurked in his psyche. Any reminder that she chose him, above everyone else, drove him wild.

Peeta kissed her, hard, a kiss flavoured with lust and love and gratitude. Then his huge hands were caressing her thighs, spreading her wide for him. His head dipped, teasing her aching flesh, driving her higher but not letting her get too close to the edge, tormenting even as he worshipped her body until she was begging. She tugged his golden curls, and he acquiesced, sliding back up her body, practically chuckling at her impatience. But when she took him in hand his humour changed into something more carnal.

She guided him home, sighing as he filled her, revelling in the stretch, the burn of his possession. She loved the way Peeta always had to pause when he first entered her, as if the feeling of her body gripping his was so overwhelming it momentarily paralyzed him.

Then he was moving, deep, controlled thrusts. Even with the thousands of times they’d done this, Katniss swore it only got better and better. Peeta’s pace never faltered as he kissed and licked and nipped her body, leisurely building her pleasure.

She moaned softly against Peeta’s throat, but he lifted his head, locking his lust-hazed gaze with her own. “Let me hear you, Kitten,” he growled. “I want to hear you.” She knew what he meant. Far too often their lovemaking had to be nearly silent, lest they wake the kids. But they were alone, they could be free with their passion.

“Peeta,” she gasped, and his smile turned cocky.

“Louder, Kitten,” he said, gripping her thighs to tilt her pelvis, increasing the force of his thrusts and she complied, howling her pleasure to the fabric sky. Peeta cursed, sliding a hand between them, stroking her deftly as she watched him struggle to stay in control.

“I’m so close,” she all but wailed and his thumb pressed just a little harder against her pearl, sending her skyrocketing. He followed, his shout of release loud and joyous. Then he collapsed beside Katniss, gathering her into his arms, gasping words of praise.

They laid together in perfect post-coital contentment until Katniss’s stomach protested. Peeta laughed, and pulling himself upright, kissed her stomach - softer now, after three children. Then he reached for the bakery box while Katniss watched him, silver eyes glowing with affection.

He fed her sips of wine and bites of golden pastry, kissing away the crumbs, the adoring smile never leaving his handsome face. And Katniss felt relaxed and refreshed, for the first time in weeks.

“So why the blanket fort?” Katniss asked as she nibbled a second cheese bun. Peeta laughed.

“There was a trail of blankets all down the hall when I got home,” he said, and Katniss groaned. She should have known Archer had been behind this after all. “I was going to put them away, but then I figured why not have fun with them instead?” Peeta pulled her closer, dislodging one of the quilts to wrap around her naked body. She hummed her approval.

“I like it,” she admitted. “Our own little cozy cave. Like a refuge from reality.” Peeta’s eyes were alight with pleasure. Marriage and parenthood and adult responsibilities did little to dampen his boyish enthusiasm for life, his lightness, his goodness, and Katniss couldn't help loving him for it. He always brought whimsy and play into their lives, even when the day to day drudgery was almost overwhelming. Especially then, really.

“We could stay here all night,” he teased, but Katniss shook her head.

“Cozy, yes, but far less comfortable than our bed,” she laughed. “And I think I’m lying on crumbs.” She sat up reluctantly.

Peeta sighed with mock annoyance, but his eyes twinkled. “Oh all right.” He handed Katniss the wine bottle and half-empty bakery box. “You go on ahead, I’ll put away the pillows and blankets.”

“Leave them, at least until the kids get home tomorrow.” Katniss glanced around at the twinkle lights, the impressive way the roof was suspended using one of Willow’s skipping ropes. All three kids would be enamoured with Peeta’s creation, and it would doubtless buy her a solid forty minutes of peace.

She might get to read Tumblr yet...

#everlark #xerxia writes #burkygirl

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everlark-your-own-adventure · 7 years

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Powder Keg, Chapter 1

Hey, Fandom! We’re back with the Holiday Edition of Everlark Your Own Adventure! Anyone fancy some love in front of a roaring fire in the middle of a blizzard? What about a good, old fashioned argument-turned kissing frenzy in the snow-covered woods? It can happen, but not without your help! This story will take us right up through New Year’s, so start reblogging and adding your thoughts in the tags today, and check back every Monday through to continue voting whether these two can put their past behind them, or if it’s just not in their favor this round.

Enjoy the first chapter of Powder Keg, written by @peetabreadgirl.

“I’m scared, Katniss! I can’t do it!” Sally cries, clutching onto my ski pants. If she keeps it up, the tears running down her cheeks and the clear goo starting to leak from her nose will freeze before break time.

“It’s okay.” I use my best big sister voice to try and soothe away her fear of skiing on a slope that’s only a little flatter than my chest. “You’re going to do just fine. See that flag there?” I point to the pole that’s halfway down the bunny slope on the edge.

“Uh-huh,” she half-sobs, nodding her head, her fingers flexing in and out, probably trying to get a better hold on me.

“All you have to do is make it there. I’ll be right behind you. Nothing to worry about, yeah?”

She sticks her nose back in my pants and shakes her head vigorously. I check my watch. I’ve been at this for 46 whole minutes. Only 14 left to go. Seemingly, a lifetime of seconds trying to convince a five-year-old that she has nothing to be afraid of, feels like hell. At this rate, I’ll have celebrated seven birthdays before we reach the bottom of the training slope.

Work with me, kiddo, I think, trying not to huff my frustration audibly. Happy parents give good tips.

Speaking of, I wave to Sally’s mother, sitting on the patio of the lodge, watching our progress. Or lack thereof. She’s propped in an Adirondack chair with sunglasses that cover half her face and a perfectly styled bun with just the right touch of messy. Her expensive jacket is only zipped halfway, and even from here I can see a the cleavage from her super-sized breasts.

She doesn’t wave back, clearly not impressed with my skill as a ski instructor. It’s my first time to teach here at Mt. Mockingjay Resort, but I’ve been skiing here all my life. I guess being a good skier doesn’t necessarily translate into being good instructor. I didn’t realize it would be so difficult.

But I’ve got an entire season to go, and it’s just starting to get busy with the holidays right around the corner.

Just as I’m about to pat Sally on the head, I hear a whoosh behind me. Before I can turn around, Peeta Mellark, my childhood-crush-turned-enemy stops in front of me and releases the bindings on his snowboard, stepping out of it.

“I’ve got this, Peeta,” I tell him, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice in front of Sally. I know what he’s about to do. Thinks he’s God’s gift to females of any age.

He ignores me, eyes on the little blonde girl who could pose as his offspring. She might be, considering the rumors that he receives tips from his students in the form of blow jobs and other activities in the bathroom. Ugh. That was harsh and those rumors probably aren’t true, but Peeta does get the most requests for private lessons of any of the mountain’s ski instructors. Mostly women. I guess he’s not completely unfortunate looking. Sort of classically handsome.

I cross my arms over my chest as he starts speaking to my lesson in a tone that’s both soft and fun, something I can’t seem to master no matter how hard I try.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

Sally looks up, connecting her blue gaze to his. The smile that lights up his face makes her keep her focus on him instead of burying her face back into my clothing. I notice a giant wet spot on my upper thigh. Thank goodness for waterproof gear.

“Sally,” she manages through a few sniffles. She wipes her nose with a gloved hand.

“Sally, I’m Peeta. It’s nice to meet you.” He pulls off his glove and holds his hand out to shake hers. “Are you having some trouble getting down the mountain?”

“Mhm,” she nods, turning her body towards him. Her skis move a little, sending her off balance. Her eyes widen in fear but Peeta catches her by the arm and steadies her.

“Here’s what we’re gonna do, Sally,” he says, like she’s just going to go along with it. I cock my hip, waiting for the outburst that’s sure to turn this crappy day into a win for me.

“I’m gonna hold your hand and walk right beside you all the way down, and then when we get to the bottom, we’re going to go inside that building right there,” he points to the ski lodge, sounding as excited as kid on Christmas morning, “and get the best tasting hot chocolate on Mt. Mockingjay. What do you say?”

Sally looks from him to the lodge, then back. I know I shouldn’t relish a child being scared, but right now, if it will put Peeta in his place, which happens to be out of my stratosphere, I’m rooting for a tantrum.

“Okay,” Sally says to him, wiping the remnants of her tears away. I would choke on my own spit if the air weren’t so dry when Peeta’s face breaks into the smile seen round the world, it’s so bright. Damn. People in China are waking up wondering what the hell happened to the moon.

“Um, you know what Sally, I can do that with you, okay? We can let Peeta get back to…” Whatever he was doing. Or whomever.

“No, I want Peeta,” Sally says, letting go of me all together and launching herself at him. Traitor. She’s known me for 46 minutes and him all of 46 seconds. I stare daggers at him as he sets her skis at the right angle and adjusts the strap that keeps the tips from sliding too far apart.

If I weren’t so dumbfounded at Sally’s change in attitude, I would forbid him to take her from me. Before I can utter a syllable, he starts down the slope with Sally in tow, making a game out of it. I finally snap out of the shock and push my poles into the ground, shoving off in their direction, seething.

When we reach Sally’s mother, Glimmer, she gives her mom a huge hug. “I did it, Mommy! Did you see? Did you see?” the little girl cries excitedly.

“I did!” Glimmer responds, looking up to Peeta. His shades make him look like an aviator pilot. She practically purrs like a cat in heat. “Thank you so much, Peeta.” Her hand goes to his bicep. Of course it does. That’s not obvious at all.

“I thought Katherine would never get her off that slope.”

“It’s Katniss,” I correct her with barely concealed irritation. She doesn’t even look at me. Neither does Peeta or Sally. It’s like I don’t exist. My seething is turning to a rapidly boiling rage. If Glimmer leaves a tip, he’s not getting it. I wasn’t even finished before he came waltzing in to play the unnecessary hero. “I’m sure Sally would have gotten down just fine if I’d been given a few more minutes to convince her she could do it.”

Peeta’s eyes snag mine and I see the warning there. Glimmer Abernathy is the richest ski bunny on Mt. Mockingjay. Her husband practically keeps these lifts open with how much money she spends here every year.

“Mommy, Mommy!” Sally says excitedly. Glimmer finally looks down at her daughter, her hand still on Peeta’s arm. “Peeta said we could get hot chocolate if I got down!”

“Did he now?” Glimmer looks back up at Peeta with a coy smile.

“It’s my treat,” Peeta tells her, showing off his dazzling smile and perfect teeth.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” she gasps, smashing her free hand against her chest, pushing her ample cleaving damn near up to her chin. I want to barf. “I’ll buy if you let me come.” The twinkle in her makes me wonder if that’s a double entendre. I’d rather not stick around to find out, but this show ain’t over yet.

“Sally hasn’t finished her lesson, yet,” I remind them. If the lesson doesn’t get completed, I have to forfeit the whole hour’s pay.

“I think we’re all done.” The way Glimmer says it makes it seem like I won’t have any repeat business from her. “Thank you for your time, Kennedy.”

The three of them turn and walk across the deck, into the revolving door of the lodge, leaving me gaping at the backs of their ski-cap covered blonde heads. Kennedy? It’s not even close to Katherine!

I don’t have another lesson until the afternoon, so I huff and puff all the way back to the offices, almost slinging my skis into my locker. I’m so mad I barely register the other bodies in the room.

“Sorry, Everdeen.” Johanna Mason, my boss, says following it up with a low whistle. “It wasn’t my first choice.” If there’s a skier equal to my talent, it would be Jo, but an unfortunate accident blew out her knee and now she has to sit on the sidelines, scheduling us all over the mountain while she keeps warm inside. It sucks big time, and while we’re not super close, we’re better friends than when we were competing against each other in high school. I was a freshman giving her, a senior, a run for her reputation as the fiercest chick on the blacks.

I growl and grind my teeth together before answering. “You knew?.” I turn to face her, hands settling on my hips in challenge, ready to defend my earnings. “I didn’t get to finish the lesson. I was 14 minutes away, Jo! I shouldn’t be docked if he physically skis away with the kid.”

“I wish I could pay you,” she starts with a sincerity that’s usually not like her, “but when I made rounds earlier Glimmer caught me and requested that Peeta finish the lesson. I tried to convince her to let you have the full hour, and then we could switch instructors if she still wasn’t happy, but she complained that her hard-earned money was being wasted.”

I snorted. Hard earned money, my ass. She married a paunchy, balding drunk that made a fortune from a lucky investment in bitcoin.

“Keep it to yourself,” Jo stops me before I can say it out loud, probably not wanting it to get out what most of us think about her, flicking her gaze to Bristel and Gale, two other instructors this year. Bristel’s a boarder like Peeta, and Gale a skier like me, though he couldn’t beat me down from the top of the bowl if one my legs was broken.

“Look, Everdeen, I know it’s a tough situation, but the policies are what they are and we have to keep our best customers happy. And the fact of the matter is, you couldn’t get the kid to do what she needed to do, and Peeta can.”

I let out a deep breath and pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to let it go. As one of the ‘best’ customers of the lodge over the last five years, Glimmer gets what Glimmer wants. And she always chooses Peeta. He’s been her instructor since he started at the resort 3 years ago.

Another piece of gossip I picked up in the locker room.

“At least I have my afternoon lesson,” I say to myself.

“Actually,” Jo starts, and I feel my heart squeeze inside my chest. “They canceled. Kid has a cold or something.”

“So I get nothing at all today?” I shriek, lifting my hands in disbelief.

“You can clock into the snack bar and get a couple hours in,” she offers.

“That’s minimum wage!” I cry, my hands pounding my thighs they fall so hard. I spin and bang my forehead against the locker.

“It’s better than no money at all,” she shrugs.

She’s right, but I don’t want to admit it. I strip my outer gear off and toss it in my locker, slamming the metal door shut, and take off for the cafeteria. If this keeps up I’ll have to work the snack bar through the summer to make the money I need. In lesson tips alone I would quadruple the pay I’ll be getting working hourly here at the lodge, not including the $25 an hour I acquire for teaching.

I’m fiddling with the soda machine, trying to figure out how to adjust the carbonation setting on the Dr. Pepper when someone taps me on the shoulder. I whirl, coming face to face with Peeta. He looks… nervous. My earlier irritation isn’t as pronounced now that I know he was forced to retrieve Sally, but I’m not used to being second best to anyone, and it kinda blows.

“Hey, Katniss, look - I’m sorry about earlier.” He unzips one of his pants pockets and pulls out a wad of cash. “It was unfair what Glimmer did to you, and I want to be sure you get paid. I was watching you with Sally, and,” he swallows as my suspicious gaze narrows at the bills, “she’s a real handful. Not your fault.”

My instincts say to reject it. What he did years ago comes rushing back, slapping me with reality. I can’t take his money. It would be like forgiving him for that.

But I really need it. My old Jeep needs four new tires and my mom just lost her job. Not to mention Christmas is in six short weeks. Mom could use the income to help buy Prim some presents, but I don’t want to take his pity money. It’s not like I can’t do the job. I’m the best skier here. I’ll have more opportunities, right?

But what if I don’t? What if more lessons cancel and more parents aren’t satisfied? I hate to think what a dismal season I’ll have if I get only a few lessons assigned to me and no requests.

Help me! Do I take the money, or do I tell him to shove it up his ass?

#everlark-your-own adventure #powder keg #peeta #katniss #ski instructors #holiday edition #2017 #vote!#peetabreadgirl #xerxia31 #burkygirl #we're at it again

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loveinpanem-blog · 7 years

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Love in Panem Presents - Cadavres Exquis part 10

After @peetabreadgirl, it was up to the lovely @burkygirl to write in the dark :)

Here is part 10 :)

“Katniss,” he husked, “You’re killing me here.”

But still she felt no hurry. Her finger continued to trace the thick vein that ran along his shaft and then she took him in hand, squeezing the base of his cock and sliding it slowly upwards where she swirled her thumb in the pearly drop that had formed at the head. A sharp breath hissed through Peeta’s teeth and she thrilled at the rush of heat that raced through her before transforming into an ache between her legs. She squeezed her thighs together, seeking relief.

He’s the only man she’s ever done this for. Sex, since she said the horrible words that forced him from her life and back to school, had become a means to an end, a physical release of pent up tension. Finding someone just looking to get off was easy, she’d discovered. But the desire to give pleasure, and to find pleasure in so doing, had lain dormant inside her since the door slammed behind this man.

Instinctively, her hand began to move in the rhythm he taught her. Peeta watched from under hooded eyelids, drinking in the sight of her head in his lap once again.

The tip of her tongue flicked across her swollen pink lips and then along the rim of his penis. The fist in her hair tightened, but still he waited. She offered him a sly smile and then drew him inside her mouth, swirling her tongue around the head of his cock, sucking hard.

“Fuck,” Peeta muttered and dropped his head back against the seat. “Just like that, Katniss.”

She lowered her mouth further, opening her throat to him. They began to move. His hips rocked gently upwards, fucking her face while she laved and suckled him.

Bits of filth and murmured endearment fell from his lips as she picked up the pace, hollowing her cheeks, swirling her tongue about him. She pulsed with desire and thought briefly of bringing herself relief and then rejected it. Nothing would do now but Peeta’s hands, Peeta’s lips; his cock inside her.

The rocking of Peeta’s hips became more frenzied as he lost control.

“Move, Katniss I’m gonna come,” he begged, but she shook her head and sucked more fiercely until he cried out in release and she drank down the salty fluid.

All was still as they waited for Peeta’s breathing to return to normal. His fist released from her hair and he stroked her head where it lay on his knees.

“That was…” He shook his head. “I don't know. The best damn thing to happen to me in eight years. I’ve missed you so much, Katniss. But we really need to talk.”

A sense of dread laced with disappointment filled her. What did he need to tell her? Clearly, her feelings had not changed, but was it the same for him?

She didn't wasn't ready to hear it. She sat up and pulled her shirt over her head.

“Later,” she replied. “Now it’s my turn.”

Things have heated up, right ? We wonder what @geekymoviemom wrote after ...

#Love in Panem #LIP 2017 #September 2017 #Cadavres Exquis #burkygirl #LIP drabbles

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peetabreadgirl · 7 years

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Unexpected II

Happy birthday, @burkygirl!! I’m cutting it close, and I know you’re asleep and won’t see this until the day after your bday, but I heart you very much and hope you likey my story for you. I’ve been talking about a part 2 for my @loveinpanem submission back in February so I went ahead and wrote it for you. Enjoy this fluff-fest! If you haven’t read it, you can find part one here.

“What’s gotten into you today?” Lavinia, the PA in his pediatric office, asks as Peeta picks up the chart of one of his patients.

“What do you mean?” He gives her a funny look.

“You’re whistling and all happy,” she tells him with a cocked brow.

His own eyebrows raise in challenge. “I’m always happy,” he replies, knowing it’s not the complete truth, but he’s never unpleasant. He’s built his reputation on the best bedside manner a doctor could hope to achieve. There is a wait list of families dying to become patients of Dr. Peeta Mellark based on his happy demeanor and way with children.

But now that it’s been brought to his attention and he can compare last night’s accidental meeting with Katniss against every minute before it, he knows something has shifted. He’s not unhappy per se, but he can’t deny he could be happier, and there’s something about Katniss that magnetizes that hope in her direction.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he deflects, not yet ready to reveal his fast inflating hopes and crazy luck from the night before.

He’d thought he was in love once before, in his junior year of college, but that had ended in flames and his grades had suffered for it. It had almost lost him his scholarship, so he’d sworn off dating, or even looking at women until he’d graduated med-school. It was a long, lonely road, and once he’d finally gotten there - and at the top of his class, too - he’d continued to focus on his residency and opening up his own practice.

Now, at the age of 33, he knows it’s time to jump back into the dating pool. He still can’t believe his luck; a beautiful girl sat down at his table that was never meant to be there. She wasn’t even meant to be in the same restaurant, or even the same side of town as him. He’d thought on it all night. Had wanted to text her the second she stepped out of the restaurant. But he’d waited. And it killed him to think she was meeting up with someone else. What if they hit it off? He had no right, he knew that, but fate had been testing him, and he sure as hell was planning on passing.

“Hello, Jenny,” Peeta coos sweetly as he enters the princess room. He’d insisted on themed rooms for the kids to make them feel happy in his office and help take their little minds off their troubles and pains. “What seems to be the problem?”

Though his question is for the blonde girl he sees at least once each month, her mother speaks up. “She has a cough. Cough for him, honey,” Ms. Rogers directs her daughter, as if giving her a signal. Peeta wants to roll his eyes. He knows there’s nothing wrong with Jenny. She’s perfectly healthy. There is, however, something wrong with Glimmer Rogers.

Still, Peeta is nothing if not the consummate professional, so he checks Jenny over, takes her temperature, asks her a series of questions. At one point he has to stand in between Jenny and her mother to block the signals she’s giving the little girl. Glimmer would make a fantastic baseball coach.

“Looks like you may just have a bit of a dry throat. Drink more water and suck on this lollipop, alright?” Peeta pulls a green apple flavored sucker from his coat pocket - the flavor he knows is her favorite - and hands it over. Jenny’s eyes light up and she unwraps the treat to pop it in her mouth. “Why don’t you wait in the front room and let me speak with your mother, alright?”

Jenny nods her head enthusiastically and leaves the room.

“Is it serious?” Glimmer asks as she closes the distance between them with two strides, settling her hand on his upper arm. He glances over her and wonders, not for the first time, why she tries so hard. She’s pretty in a conventional, California-girl way, although she wears skin tight yoga pants and cleavage baring tops every time he sees her, revealing her goods to any and everyone. He’s well aware of the way single moms try to attract him.

This is why Katniss was such a breath of fresh air last night. She’d completely disarmed him with her nervous charm and unabashed wit. And then his gut had twisted at her profuse apologies and abrupt departure. That’s when he knew he needed to see her again, so he’d rushed after her to get her number, albeit under false pretenses. He’d sent her a transcription, just like he’d promised, and she got it done in record time and with such professionalism and perfection he fell even harder for her.

Forcing his mind back to the present, Peeta shook his head and smiled sincerely at Jenny’s mother. “No, she’s fine. She hasn’t been sick since the first time I examined her over a year ago. You’ve done a wonderful job keeping her healthy, Ms. Rogers, but I really need you to only bring her in for well checks and if she has a fever.” Peeta pats Glimmer’s hand and gently removes it from his bicep. “There are sick children that need the spaces you frequently reserve for your healthy girl.”

He sees the flash of irritation at being rejected in her dark blue eyes. “I’m only concerned for the well being of Jenny, Dr. Mellark. I want to catch germs and such before it turns into something worse.” She huffs and hastily makes her way out of the room. He wonders if it’s too much to hope she won’t be back unless Jenny needs real medical attention. He finds himself wishing Jenny all the health in the world.

Seeing patient after patient drug the day out like never before. Peeta knew it was because Katniss was waiting at the end of it. He hadn’t been able to get his mind off her. Every little girl with dark curls or little boy with blonde hair he treated made him think of what it was he really wanted. What he’d put off for long enough. And whom he wanted it with. It was way too soon - way too soon - to be thinking that way. He knew this, yet something deep in his bones whispered to him that this was it.

Now, standing in front of her door, his palms were sweaty and his heartbeat was erratic. He wondered if maybe it had all been a fluke. She wasn’t so charming or beautiful or magnificent as his lonely heart made her out to be. He would know any second.

He didn’t feel the door under the weight of his knuckles as he knocked. He couldn’t feel his toes or swallow. His mouth was drier than sun-baked dirt. He barely registers the door swinging open, light from the inside shining out into the dark hall, bathing this dark-headed beauty in a swath of angelic light. She’s wearing a sweater dress that fits her like a glove and flat riding boots. Her hair is braided and hangs over one shoulder.

No, his mind had definitely not played tricks on him. How could she be even more radiant than she was only 24 hours ago?

“Peeta.” Katniss is first to speak and Peeta feels his mouth flop open and closed, like a fish out of water. He finally manages to whisper her name. He clears his throat and tries again.

“Katniss. You look lovely.” He remembers the flowers he bought just minutes ago at the grocer on the corner, and holds a bouquet of white daisies out to her. Her gorgeous gray eyes widen and a full smile appears on her pink lips. He thinks about kissing those lips.

Slow down, buddy, he tells himself, taking a slight step back.

She takes the flowers from him, her eyes darting back and forth between them and Peeta. “Thank you. I’ll be right back,” she says sincerely, and disappears only for a short time, but to Peeta it feels like an eternity.

“Ready?” he asks when she reappears in her winter coat. She nods and he holds out his arm for her. When she slides her hand through the crook of his elbow, he places his hand over hers, berating himself for wearing gloves. Practically speaking, it’s freezing out and he’d be crazy not to. But impractically speaking, he could be touching her skin right now because her hands were bare.

“Would you like my gloves?” he asks her before they step into the cold. She gives him a shy smile that heats his already melted heart.

“I’ll be fine, thank you,” she says. Peeta keeps his hand over hers the entire two blocks it takes for them to walk to Eno’s Pizza, a trendy but casual place he picked for their first date. Or is it their second? He doesn’t really care as long as it turns into more.

They sit in a cozy booth across from each other. Peeta would rather sit right beside her, thigh touching thigh, fingers and gazes locked in silent affirmation, but he doesn’t let on that he’s already planned their wedding, booked their honeymoon, and built their first home in his head. There’s a porch swing out front and a trash compactor in the kitchen. It’s crazy even for him to consider, yet it’s there and he can do nothing to stop it.

Katniss orders white wine and Peeta orders red. They share a pie topped with goat cheese, basil and proscuitto as Peeta tells her all about working with kids and the crazy things they say. Katniss laughs, and to him it’s the perfect harmony he’s been missing for so long to accompany his lonely melody. It’s so cliche, he thinks, but they’d make such beautiful music together.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” she hesitates, the lovely smile slipping from her lips. “It’s just been on my mind all day…”

“Ask me anything,” he encourages her. He’d tell her whatever she wants to know; his most intimate secrets, his bank account and social security numbers. The names he’s chosen for their four children. Okay, well, he doesn’t actually have that information.

Yet.

“Why were you alone on Valentine’s night?”

Peeta drops his eyes, but his lips curl up into a smile. Fate isn’t going to let him off the hook. No time like the present to be honest, he guesses, but Katniss rushes to fill the silence he let fall between them.

“It’s just… hard to believe a guy like you would be alone. You’re a catch, Peeta. Is there… someone else? Was she not able to come?”

The reluctant way she asks the question moves his heart to his throat. He suddenly wants her to know without a doubt that there is no one else. “Actually, I… haven’t seen anyone seriously in a decade.” There was the office Christmas party last year, and that one graduation party where he’d let loose for just that night. Oh, and his brother’s bachelor party where he’d made out with the stripper like a teenager, until his training had kicked the alcohol glazed-frenzy to the curb and reminded him of communicable diseases that were rampant in professions such as hers.

Her eyes widen and her mouth falls open, as he expected it would. As his would have if the situation had been reversed. “I’ve just been career focused, and I know it’s time to add more to my life, so I made the reservation at Terilli’s months ago, hoping I would have a date by then. Or even a fiance,” he laughs nervously and his hand reaches to run the back of his neck and he glances up at her, surprised by the emotion in her eyes. “Anyway, it, uh, kind of snuck up on me and I found myself still alone.” He laughs lightly, nervously. “It takes months to get into that place, so I went. And then you showed up. And sat down in the seat I reserved for my plus one.”

Katniss has a far away gaze in her eyes and doesn’t say anything for a few beats. Peeta’s heart hammers in his chest. He didn’t outright say fate had brought them together, but if she asked he wasn’t going to lie.

The waitress comes over to collect their plates and show them the dessert menu. Katniss declines the sweets and Peeta follows suit, sad that the night seems to be coming to a close.

It ends too quickly for him, and he can only hope she feels the same.

It’s brutally cold outside, but he slows their walk back to Katniss’s apartment, desperate to do anything that prolongs their time together. They take the stairs lazily, fingers entwined, arms swinging between them. No gloves were worn on the walk back. As a doctor, Peeta should have insisted she borrow his, but he couldn’t resist wanting to be the one that kept her warm.

They stop in front of her door. He wants to kiss her. Been thinking about it all night, but Katniss’s eyes dart around the hallway, landing on his every now and then. He wonders what she’s thinking, but he becomes concerned when she uses her hand to fan herself, looking flushed and a little faint. His doctor instincts kick in.

“Are you alright?” He touches her forehead with the back of his hand, then moves it to her warm cheek.

“Y-yes. I’m fine just a little,” she swallows, “overheated.”

“You don’t feel feverish,” he says seriously, stepping closer as he wraps his hands around the base of her neck, thumbs snaking over underneath her jaw to feel the glands there.

“It’s not, I’m not… sick-sick. I’m just, you make me nervous. That’s all. I really like you, Dr. Mellark.” Her voice deepens when she says his professional name. It makes some things - like his heart - turn to mush, and other things turn very rigid.

“Lucky for you, I can prescribe the exact remedy you need,” he says smoothly, his thumbs brushing back and forth under her jaw. He can feel her swallow, see her eyes darken as her lashes shutter with the same need he’s feeling.

“Should I take some aspirin and call you in the morning?” Her voice is rough now, deeper than before.

“Not even close,” he whispers, dipping his head and brushing his lips against hers. They’re as soft as they look. She parts them for him and the tip of her tongue darts out. He stifles a groan, ignoring the intensity he really wants to give into, instead moving his lips to the corner of her mouth, placing tender kisses across her cheeks, eyelids, brows, and finally landing on her nose. “Kisses. Lots and lots of kisses,” he says as he pulls away.

“I’m not cured, yet,” she admits, a small, playful smile dancing in her eyes and on those soft lips he now knows he’ll never tire of. “In all honesty, I may never be cured.”

“Then feel free to kiss me anytime you want,” he says, backing her into the door before finally giving in to the drug they both need.

#unexpected #part 2 #peetabreadgirl #burkygirl #Happy Birthday!

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everlarkbirthdaydrabbles · 7 years

Text

Biggest Fan - Chapter 2

Way back in February, @peetabreadgirl had a birthday and her gift was Biggest Fan -- Canadian!Peeta and Texan!Katniss meet in the Marvel fandom and then have a real-life meet-up in Québec City. You can find the first chapter of this story on this blog. We've decided to stretch her birthday fun for five months and offer you this latest chapter. Enjoy!! Banner by @xerxia31

When the morning sun finally begins to glow behind his eyelids, Peeta is contentedly floating on a cloud of sheer comfort. The bed feels exactly right beneath him, his pillow cradles his head perfectly and Katniss is snuggled firmly against him, her head pillowed on his shoulder.

Never has a bed been so inviting.

He’s not sure when she migrated from her side of the bed to his, but he can’t say he’s sorry to start the day with her in his arms, her soft, steady exhales painting a warm trail on his pectoral muscles under his t-shirt. His senses are full of her; the sweet fragrance of her hair, the weight of her arm across his belly, her feet tangled in his. He leans down just enough to place a kiss on the crown of her head and is rewarded with a sigh from Katniss.

She stretches like a cat against him as her body comes to life. “Time is it?” she mutters.

“I’m not sure, about eight? Practically mid-day for a baker.”

The sound of his voice seems to bring her back to herself more quickly. Her grey eyes widen and a pretty flush paints her smooth cheeks as she notices the way they’re practically wrapped around each other, and the fact that they’re both nestled on his side of the bed.

“Sorry,” she squeaks, and in her haste to push away from him, she discovers just how awake Peeta is. He emits an involuntary hiss.

“Oh God,” she drops to her back and slaps a hand over her eyes. “I’m sorry again.”

Peeta can’t help it. He laughs. “It’s not like you hurt me, Katniss.” He rolls to his side, hoping it will provide some slack in his pyjama pants. She parts her fingers and peeks out at him. “Morning wood’s a pretty ordinary thing for a healthy guy, especially if he’s been curled up with a pretty girl all night.”

She snorts and her hand drops from her face in exasperation. “I may beta smut instead of writing it, but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t teach you a few things, Cap.”

That line sends his mind careening in all sorts of different directions. His cock throbs for relief.

Her puzzled voice forces his train of thought off its rather sordid track. “Wait a minute. You think I’m pretty?”

He’s forced to shake his head in amazement. “Kat, I thought your Google Docs avatar was pretty. In real life, you’re so much more than that. Beautiful, yes, but there’s just something about you. It’s….” He stares at the ceiling searching for the right word. “Magnetic.” When he chances a look over at Katniss, her face is pale, her front teeth pillowed in her bottom lip.

“I’ve got to take a shower,” she whispers. Then she bolts for the bathroom, snapping the lock behind her.

Peeta lies in bed, bewildered by the turn of events. Wondering if he’d gone too far calling her beautiful. After their nice evening together, and especially after waking up with her in his arms, he’d thought they were on the same page. Now he’s left trying to figure out what’s real and what’s not.

He can hear the water running behind the bathroom door. A mental image of Katniss standing under the spray, her long black hair wet and cascading over smooth olive flesh flashes through his head, and he groans softly. Knowing she’s naked just a few feet away isn’t doing anything to help rein in his dirty thoughts. It’s taking every speck of his restraint not to take himself in hand. It wouldn’t take long. He’s so hard from being this close to her, she’d only have to breathe on it and he’d come.

Fuck, did he really just think about her lips near his cock? With a decisive kick, Peeta knocks the bedcovers aside and shoves his pants down his hips. He exhales in relief when he wraps his hand around the hot flesh, twitching in anticipation. It's not the first time he's stroked himself to thoughts of Katniss Everdeen.

But it’s the first time since he’d held her in his arms, learned her scent and the exact shade of her pink pouty lips. His hand circles his cock, his thumb sweeping over the weeping head to gather the moisture and ease the movement of his fist, slipping slowly downward from tip to root. He imagines those perfect lips enveloping him, slick and wet, taking him deep into her mouth. A quiver of excitement passes through his body and his breath quickens as he envisions Katniss’s grey eyes, dark and cloudy with desire, staring up at him from his lap. A moan rumbles from low in his throat and his strokes quicken, his hips flexing in time with the movement of his hand.

In his mind’s eye, Katniss’s perfect breasts bounce with every pass. She’s riding him now, his cock buried deep within her, the walls of her pussy tightening around him like a silken prison he has no wish to escape. The pleasure builds higher and higher, bringing him closer to what he craves. Every muscle in Peeta’s body tightens and strains as the pleasure mounts within him. He can see her, head thrown back in abandon, needing this, needing him the way he burns for her touch. He bites down on his lip when the familiar tingle begin in the base of his spine, sending bliss sparking throughout his body. And in the moment when his mind flies free and his body follows, he releases onto his belly, her name a whisper on his lips.

It’s only when he’s wiped himself clean with his t-shirt and thrown it to the floor, that he can focus on Katniss’s reaction and what, if anything, he ought to do about it.

He pulls up his bottoms and climbs out of bed, tossing his dirty shirt into his duffle bag. Effie had said something yesterday about breakfast being delivered to their room in a petit panier. Sure enough, he discovers a picnic basket just outside the door. An array of fresh baked pastries, fruit, cheese, yogurt, and juice are tucked inside.

He’s just closing the door behind him when Katniss emerges from the bathroom, still in her tank and sleep shorts, her hair wrapped in a towel. He must have taken her by surprise because she gapes at him.

“Breakfast,” he smiles, holding up the basket and crossing to a small table beneath the window. “It looks amazing. I can’t wait to try these croissants and see how they compare to mine.”

Peeta fishes out a little card that states Gracieuseté de l’Hôtel du Vieux Québec. “A beautiful day is desired to you," he reads aloud. “It’s signed by the manager. Huh. I’ll forgive her English if she tolerates my high school French I suppose. It was nice of her to personalize it, don't you think, Katniss?”

“Katniss?” He turns to find Katniss still standing near the bathroom door, staring at him intently. “Would you like some breakfast?”

Her tongue darts out over her lips and she gives her head a shake. “Uh, yeah, sure. Just let me get dressed real quick. I, uh, forgot my bag earlier. I just need to, um, grab a few things.”

He nods and turns back to the basket. But reflected in the window, he can see Katniss still staring. A slow grin spreads across his face as comprehension dawns. Katniss Everdeen is checking him out.

He can't resist showing off a little. Though there's nothing wrong with the basket’s position, he hefts it into his arms, knowing it'll make the muscles in his back - toned and sculpted from years of lifting hundred-pound flour sacks - ripple and flex.

“OK Kat, you go ahead and get dressed. I’ll take good care of this breakfast basket.”

In the window, he watches her eyes snap off his back to shoot arrows at the back of his head. “Oh,” she sneers, “I don’t think so, Cap.”

He snatches a croissant from the basket and, turning to face her, tears into it with his teeth. His mouth is full of its flaky, buttery goodness when he smirks at her. He swallows. “That’s delicious.”

“Fine,” she harrumphs. “I’ll eat.”

They settle down at the tiny table, the morning light streaming through the window, enjoying the contents of their basket. The fruit is juicy and perfect. They sample ripe melon and strawberries, bits of pineapple and delicious raspberries. Katniss sinks her teeth into what appears to be an apple danish and sighs contentedly.

Peeta fishes an apple out of the basket, breathes on it slightly and is about to shine it on his shirt when he remembers that it’s sticky and buried in the bottom of his bag. Feeling Katniss’s eyes upon him, he shrugs playfully and mimics shining the apple against his chest instead. Katniss’s eyes follow the action, her rosy lips slightly parted. “See something you want?” he asks.

Her eyes round and return to his face. “What?”

“Just wondered if you wanted my apple,” he replies innocently, the rosy flesh of the apple now masking his grin. Katniss flushes and declines. With a shrug, Peeta brings the apple the remaining distance to his lips, the apple providing a satisfying snap as his teeth dig into its tart flesh.

It’s possible, he concludes as he chews, that the attraction he is feeling for his writing buddy is mutual. It’s just too bad that he’s fallen for a girl who’s every bit as shy as she is stubborn. If he approaches her directly, she’ll be on the first plane bound for Texas.

He’ll just have to convince her it’s all her idea.

→ thg ←

By mid-morning they’re both dressed and ready to face the crowds of Carnaval. Hôtel du vieux Québec faces out on the busiest street in the downtown core. The crowds have already begun to gather as people wander in and out of the quaint shops along the narrow streets in the historic city.

Peeta watches in amusement as Katniss takes in her surroundings, eyes wide, head snapping this way and that. The narrow stone buildings, the ancient churches, the snow-encrusted trees -- he sees all of them with fresh eyes as he observes Katniss’s awe. Several times, as they walk towards Carnaval, she’s distracted enough to nearly bump into someone in the thickening crowd.

It’s one of those quintessential Canadian winter days, brilliant sunshine streams across the frozen landscape, setting the snow ablaze in diamond-bright sparkles. But the sun’s intensity belies the breathtaking cold. And while Peeta is accustomed to the weather, Katniss, bundled up in her borrowed down coat and the boots and the snow pants Peeta brought in from the car that morning, has already started shivering.

Peeta tugs her close and gives her upper arms a brisk rub. “Cold already?” At her frantic nod, he tugs the firm trimmed hood of her coat over her bare head. “What have you got on for gloves?”

“These.” Katniss holds up her hands and Peeta clucks his tongue at the thin leather that covers them.

“We’ll have to do better than that,” he decides, and points to a little shop a bit further down Rue Saint-Jean. “They’ll probably have something in there,” he tells her. “Here, tuck your right hand into your pocket and I’ll hold your left in mine. It’ll help you stay warmer.”

The two of them weave their way through the jolly crowd meandering along the sidewalk, their breath freezing in puffy clouds before them as they make their way to the store. The warmth of the little shop is a welcome relief from the crisp winter cold and Katniss immediately lets go of Peeta’s hand to blow heat onto her own. “So cold!” she gasps as she stomps her feet and covers her ears with her hands.

Peeta can’t help but laugh at her reaction. “You’re no winter soldier, KatsEye.”

She scowls at him. “Shut up, Cap. It was 82 degrees in Texas on Thursday. I had lunch on a patio in my flip flops.”

“And now you’re a Katsicle.” Her silver eyes roll skyward and he reaches out to squeeze her hand. “Come on,” he urges, changing the subject. “What better Canadian souvenir than a pair of mittens?”

The kitschy little souvenir shop is plugged with shelves of stuffed moose and beavers in Mountie uniforms. Peeta spots bottles of genuine Quebec maple syrup lined up on a shelf near the cash and a whole display of magnets shaped like maple leaves and fleur de lis. Near the back of the store, they finally find a thick pair of navy mittens with “Québec” embroidered upon them in white stitches. They snatch them up and are soon back out into the cold, making their way towards the Plaines d’Abraham where Carnaval is held each year.

Katniss’s newly mittened hand is clasped in Peeta’s once again when he spots l’Escalier Casse-Cou. The steep concrete staircase descends between historic buildings and patios to the lower part of town.

“Why don’t we go this way,” he suggests as they stand at the top, admiring the view over the snow-topped roofs of the centuries-old buildings below. It reminds him of a medieval village. “This is the oldest part of the city, founded in the 1600s by an explorer called Samuel de Champlain. There are some fantastic galleries down there.”

“Are you sure? We could break our necks walking down these steps.”

“Well, they call it the Breakneck Staircase, but I’ve never heard of anyone actually breaking their neck. I’ve never been down it in winter before, though.”

“Maybe we should get a selfie before we fall to our deaths,” says Katniss, pulling her phone out of her coat pocket, but her mittens are so thick she can’t swipe the screen to unlock it. She curses in frustration and pulls off the right one before sliding her finger across the screen. “The ice was just starting to thaw from my fingertips,” she mutters.

“It’s a Canadian hazard. Come here and stop complaining,” laughs Peeta, and holds out his arm. Katniss snuggles underneath it, her arm around his waist, but she can’t angle her camera high enough to get both their heads in the shot. “It’s a good thing you’re cute,” Peeta teases as he seizes the phone from her. They’re still laughing when he takes the picture. It’s a good one. They’re wrapped in each other; rosy cheeked and smiling brightly with the Quartier Champlain in the shot far below them. “Send me that, will you?” Peeta asks, and she nods, making a few quick swipes on the screen before slipping it back in her pocket.

“Together?” Her navy mitten reaches for his gloved hand.

“Together.”

The trip down the stairs is surprisingly uneventful. The wrought iron handrail is every bit as sturdy as it is decorative and before long, they’ve stepped farther back in time, wandering the narrow cobblestone streets and peeking into the mottled glass windows of the historic buildings. The wooden signs that swing by the doors of the various storefronts boast of artists and artisans of every kind. Peeta points out the textile artists and the painters. Music and delicious smells waft through the doors of the various pubs and restaurants as their heavy wooden doors swing open and closed.

He’s telling her a story about the founding of the city more than four hundred years ago when she stops suddenly, nearly yanking his arm from its socket. “Wait,” she says, leaning towards a window display, her mittened hand hovering over the glass.

It's the kind of combination gallery and souvenir shop that's ubiquitous in Quebec, so he's not sure what's caught her eye. She tugs him closer, silver eyes alight. "My sister," she says, and Peeta nods. If there's anything Katniss talks about more than Bucky Barnes, it's her little sister, Prim. "She's studying marine biology. She'd love that." Peeta squints through the glass and finally understands. In the middle of the handmade mukluks and miniature inukshuks is a soapstone seal, its glossy green surface glinting in the spotlights. “Can we go in?”

Like he could ever say no.

His hand delicately resting on her lower back, Peeta guides Katniss under a garland of greenery, festooned with tin cups and snowshoes, and into the warmth of the shop. It’s small, even smaller than it appears from outside, and jam-packed with Aboriginal art. Katniss heads straight for the window display, but Peeta is distracted by the framed prints that fill every inch of wall space. Until, that is, he realizes the shopkeeper - an older man with greasy hair and bloodshot eyes - is speaking at Katniss in rapid-fire French while she stares, wide-eyed and silently pleading for him to intervene.

“Monsieur,” Peeta says, pulling the man’s attention from his horror-struck companion. “Est-ce que vous pourriez nous aider?”

“Aie, mon homme, viens ici une seconde.” Peeta struggles to keep up with both the speed of the shopkeeper’s speech and his strong accent that suggests he’s from the Outaouais region of Quebec. “J'veux te montrer un p'ti truc qui va sûrement te rendre chanceux avec ta blonde ce soir,” the shopkeeper continues, grinning, and Peeta can feel the heat flooding his cheeks. He’s exceedingly grateful that Katniss doesn’t speak French. He can’t imagine she’d be thrilled to know that a greasy huckster thinks buying this piece of Inuit art is likely to improve his chances of scoring with his beautiful friend. “Check ça mon gars, une super beau phoque.” He gestures to the seal sculpture in Katniss’s hand, and she jumps back, eyes widening further. “J'te dit, c'est un vieux eskimo qui a sculpté ce phoque - il a soixante-quinze ans!” Peeta snickers at that, carved by a seventy-five year old Eskimo. Yeah, that’ll increase the price for sure. He glances back at Katniss, and his amusement recedes. She’s full-on scowling. The shopkeeper clearly doesn’t notice, because he wraps an arm around Katniss’s shoulder and continues. “Tu trouve pas que ta blonde aimeras ça? T'sais déjà comment elle adore ce phoque!”

Peeta slips between Katniss and the older man before she has an opportunity to eviscerate him. Bright red splotches stand out on her cheeks and her jaw is tense, he can practically hear her teeth grinding. Peeta didn’t think she understood French, but he knows she speaks Spanish, so maybe she’s catching more of the shopkeeper’s lewd suggestions than he’d hoped.

“J'te laisse pour cinquante pièces. C'est bon? Tu va me remercier, c'est sûr,” the clerk says, waving toward the small sculpture and winking at Katniss. And while fifty dollars is highway robbery, Peeta is anxious enough to get out of the store that he’ll pay pretty much anything.

“Oui, nous allons le prendre, s'il vous plaît,” he says, sliding the sculpture from Katniss’s clenched fist and pulling out his wallet while Katniss huffs beside him.

By the time they emerge from the shop and back out onto rue Petit Champlain, Katniss is absolutely seething. “Hey,” Peeta says, reaching for her as she attempts to stomp away in the wrong direction. She shrugs him off, spinning to glare at him. Her anger is a lot scarier when it’s aimed in his direction.

“What the hell was that?” she spits, and Peeta struggles to guess which part of the entire strange transaction she’s referring to. “How could you let that guy talk about us like that?”

Peeta stammers. “Katniss, I’m sorry. I was just trying to get us out of there. I didn’t know how much of the conversation you understood.”

"Understood?” Katniss throws her hands in the air, her eyes afire. “What was there to understand? That guy dropped more f-bombs than IronMutt in a smut scene!”

“F-bombs?” Between the colloquial French, and the tension in the shop, Peeta is certain he missed a few words, but he doesn’t remember any f-bombs - French or English - in the shopkeeper’s pitch. He’s just about to argue with Katniss that the salesman - while incredibly lewd - hadn’t actually cursed, when the realization hits him. Phoque sounds a whole lot like fuck to the untrained ear. It was a source of endless joking back in middle school, but Peeta hasn’t thought about it in years.

He snickers like the middle school boy he once was, and Katniss growls. “It’s not funny, Cap,” she says, her voice only slightly below a yell. She’s so pissed that she looks ready to explode, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek hard to tame the giggles. “I thought you Canadians were supposed to be polite?”

She tries to storm away again, and it sobers him. ”Kat- Katniss, no, wait,” he begs, grabbing her arm to halt her escape. He can see her body stiffen, but she doesn’t pull away, turning to face him with fire in her silver eyes. Peeta is struck by the thought that she looks good in flames. Very good. He pulls back, rubbing a mittened hand over the back of his neck, attempting to derail the lustful train of thought his mind is trying to take. “I’m sorry,” he says, a bit breathlessly, and her expression softens a little. “Phoque,” he says, drawing out the vowel sound slightly, “is the French word for seal.”

“It… wait, what?” Katniss scrunches her nose up in confusion, and Peeta bites his cheek again because he wants to tell her that she’s adorable, and he doubts she’d consider it a compliment. Not right now anyway. “Really?”

“Really. The conversation would have sounded a lot different if you’d picked a polar bear instead.” Well, it would have to her, anyway, Peeta thinks. The greasy clerk would probably have been just as convinced of the seductive powers of an ours blanc if it meant freeing another fifty from their wallets.

“Oh,” Katniss says softly, watching him with that cute wrinkle between her brows, as if she’s not completely sure whether to believe him. Peeta wants so badly to kiss that little line. He shakes his head slightly to clear away the image. She has no idea, the effect she has on him. But if he’s learned anything in his eighteen or so hours with Katniss Everdeen, it’s that he has to be patient.

“Yeah, oh,” Peeta smiles, unable to resist teasing her just a bit. He winks to soften the sting. “Let’s continue,” he says, tugging her elbow gently. “There’s so much more to see and daylight’s wasting.”

She huffs, but relents, and they fall into step again, walking the snowy cobbles in silence.

“Ah, there it is,” says Peeta, and points to the end of the street, where the word “Funiculaire” is posted in huge letters on an old house.

“There what is,” asks Katniss, her voice still showing traces of temper.

“The Funiculaire. Our way back up,” Peeta explains. They halt in front of the doors of the house and Katniss cranes her head to watch the little white car slowly climbing the track up the cliff.

“Oh lordy,” she mutters. “Just what, exactly, is a Fun-ic-yoo-layer?”

“Huh.” Peeta purses his lips and screws up his face as he thinks it over. “Well, if an elevator had sex with a ski lift, the Funiculaire would be their love child.”

Katniss looks at him incredulously and then bursts out laughing and squeezes his hand. “You’ve written some crazy analogies over the last year, Peeta, but that one takes the cake.”

Peeta grins sheepishly and shrugs. “Hey, cake is never bad.” He thinks he hears her snort, but is too busy thinking about how natural it seemed for her to take his hand to be sure.

“Come on, let’s go before I change my mind,” she orders, tugging him down the street. “You’re paying for the ride in this death trap, beeteedubs.”

A few minutes and six Canadian dollars later, they are slowly riding up the cliff. Katniss snaps a few shots of the city from the air as they slide towards the summit. When they get to the top and exit the green gazebo-like terminal, they find themselves at the foot of Quebec City’s largest, and possibly most famous, landmark; the Château Frontenac, its turrets pointing to the sky and each one of the pristine windows in the brick towers glinting in the icy glare of the winter sun.

“That is literally the biggest castle I’ve ever seen,” Katniss murmurs. “Not that I’ve ever seen one before.”

“It’s actually a hotel,” Peeta explains. “The oldest in Canada. I would guess that royalty has probably stayed there, but it’s never been an actual castle. I think it has something like 700 rooms.”

“Have you ever stayed there?” She wanders the path in front of the Funiculaire exit and snaps a few pictures with her phone.

Peeta wonders if he should have tried to get them a room there. “No. My parents have, a few times, I think. It’s very swanky.”

“It’s a beautiful building, that’s for sure, but I bet they don’t serve breakfast in a basket.”

Peeta watches her pocket her phone and wonders whether she could be any more perfect for him. Her grey eyes are dancing when she links her arm with his and they start to stroll along the boulevard beside the hotel. “How much farther to the Car-na-val?” She lingers over each vowel sound, attempting the French pronunciation. It’s so adorable he can hardly stand it.

Instead, he points to the noisy park just a stone’s throw away. “We’re almost there. Can you see the ice castle? That’s where Bonhomme lives.”

“Who’s Bonhomme?”

“The King of Winter,” Peeta explains. “Come on. We’ll get our effigies and we’ll go find him.”

“Effigies? What kind of carnival is this?”

Peeta laughs. “Relax. It’s like an ornament. Of Bonhomme. It’ll get us in and out of the carnaval.”

When they get to the gates, Peeta requests, “deux passeports de Carnaval, s’il vous plaît.”

“Quatre-vingt-dix pièces, monsieur.”

Peeta reaches for his wallet to pay for their ultimate passes, but Katniss stills his hand. “No way,” she insists. “You paid for the hotel room. You paid for dinner last night. You bought the phoque.” Her upper lip curls when that word slips past her lips. “You’re not paying for this too.”

He sighs, knowing there’s no point in arguing with Katniss when a line is forming behind them. “Fine. I asked her for two Carnaval passports. It’s $90.”

Katniss pulls her wallet from her pocket. “Lemme get my Monopoly money out. So, I need a pink one and two green ones, or one brown one, right?”

He can’t help it. He snorts, but gets out of her way while she pays the ticket seller. The look on her face when a plastic bag filled with goodies is shoved back through the window is so priceless, he laughs aloud. They make their way through the gate and Peeta pulls her aside, whipping the fleece-lined souvenir toque from the bag, and tugging it down over her ears before flicking her nose with one of the bright red pom-poms that swing from a braided tassel.

“I look ridiculous,” she huffs.

“We’ve got a second set for me, so we’ll look like tourists together. Now shut up and put on your scarf.” He pulls the brightly woven scarf from the bag and ties it snugly around her neck. He pins her effigy to her coat and stands back to admire his work.

“Canadian is a good look on you,” he decides. “Plus, now you won’t be cold.”

He pulls off his own toque and replaces it with the official carnaval hat, then ties his scarf around his neck and pins on the little plastic snowman. There are six tickets in the bottom of the bag that he passes to Katniss, asking her to tuck them in her wallet. He stuffs his old hat and scarf in the bag, tosses in the infamous phoque sculpture and takes her hand back in his own before tugging her towards the giant ice castle.

“C’mon. I want a picture of us at the castle,” he insists, “all dressed up in our matching gear.”

Peeta drags her past vendors and activities. She points to snow rafting, an ice slide and a petting zoo and begs to stop, but he keeps going until they are standing in the shadows of l’Assemblée Nationale du Québec where an enormous castle made of ice glistens in the afternoon sun. “

You people sure like your castles,” she drawls.

“This is Bonhomme’s house,” he explains. “It’s our best chance to see him, but first I want that picture. Peeta pulls his phone from his pocket and positions himself behind Katniss with his arm around her waist. He waits for her to pull away and can’t help but feel a surge of pleasure at the way she relaxes against him instead. He whips off his mitten and aims the camera for the perfect selfie. “Now smile,” he orders.

When he lowers the camera, he can’t help but smirk at how couple-y they look in their matching gear, wide grins and cozy pose. The tips of their noses glow and their eyes sparkle in the sun.

Katniss pulls out her phone and waves it at him. “Send me that,” she orders, and he obliges. She flicks her finger across the screen and a satisfied smile spreads across her lips. “It’s a good one.” She flicks and taps the screen a few more times to save the image and then tucks the phone back in her pocket. “So, are we going to meet this snowman or not?”

Hand-in-hand, they join the queue for Bonhomme’s home, shuffling as it snakes slowly forward and stamping their feet to keep their toes from freezing. When Katniss starts to shiver, Peeta wraps his arms around her.

“Bonhomme, Bonhomme sais-tu jouer ? Bonhomme, Bonhomme sais-tu jouer ?” Peeta’s song is more than little off-key but she laughs as he bounces her back and forth in his arms, so he keeps going. “Sais-tu jouer de ce violon-là ? Sais-tu jouer de ce violon-là ?”

“Peeta, what on Earth are you singing?”

“The Bonhomme, Bonhomme song,” he chortles. “The Ontario education system tortures us all with it. Bonhomme, Bonhomme, tu n’es pas maître dans ta maison quand nous y sommes!”

By the time they make it to Bonhomme’s front door, Peeta has challenged Bonhomme to play the violin, the flute and the drums and Katniss is begging for relief. But she’s not shivering, so he counts that as a win.

Just inside the door, an eight-foot tall snowman awaits them.

“Holy frick, what is that?” Katniss breathes, her head tilted upwards to take in the giant’s red toque and maniacally grinning face. Her head leans against Peeta’s chest, the pom pom of her Carnaval hat tickling his jaw and he almost sighs with how good it feels.

“That,” Peeta says, unable to resist the urge to pull her a little closer, “is who we’re here to see. Meet Bonhomme Carnaval, the king of winter.”

“Hello! Bonjour!” calls Bonhomme to the crowd. The voice booms through the ice castle, but Peeta finds the whole effect to be a bit strange since the snowman’s mouth can’t move in his plastic face. “Bienvenue! Welcome to my home. Do you want to see my kick?” The giant kicks his leg high into the air.

As the snowman carries on with his antics, someone taps Peeta on the shoulder. He turns to find one of the festival workers grinning broadly at him. “Veux-tu que je prenne un photo de toi et ta blonde avec Bonhomme?”

“Absolument,” Peeta replies. “Merci.” He tugs Katniss’s hand. “They’re going to take our picture with Bonhomme.”

“Peeta, he’s creepy,” she hisses as they approach the front of the line.

He agrees, but can’t resist teasing her. “Who were you expecting, Frosty the Snowman?” When she sputters in outrage, he gives her hand a tight squeeze while handing his phone off to the attendant. When he’s sure no one is listening, he leans over to whispers in her ear. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you from the weird cultural icon.”

Just then, Bonhomme steps between them and throws his arms around their shoulders. “So, you want a photo with Bonhomme? Bon! Un joli sourire pour le caméra. Un, deux, trois!”

The flash on Peeta’s phone goes off and they are hustled away to make room for the next group. The attendant meets them with a grin and passes the phone back to Peeta. “Je crois que ta blonde n’est pas une fan de Bonhomme,” he says gleefully.

No, Peeta thinks, gazing down at their latest picture. Katniss, her face twisted into a suspicious grimace, certainly isn’t a Bonhomme fan. “Elle est Américaine,” he confides, causing the Carnaval staffer to burst into laughter. The other man nods knowingly as though Katniss’s nationality explains everything. “Joyeux Carnaval!” he calls out, slapping Peeta on the shoulder before they make their way out of the castle.

Once outside, Peeta realizes the day is slipping away. “How about a hot chocolate?”

Katniss looks at him in relief. “No more weird snowmen?”

“Not today,” he chuckles. “We’ll sip hot chocolate, check out the snow sculptures and then go back to the hotel. Sound good?”

Before long, they have traded two of the tickets in Katniss’s wallet for steaming cups of hot chocolate. Katniss hums happily as she takes her first sip and the warmth Peeta feels around his chest has as much to do with the smile on her face as the chocolate in his belly. Arm in arm, they stroll around the Plaines d’Abraham, admiring the sculptures that are strategically positioned between the other attractions.

“The snow sculpture contest attracts artists from all over the world,” Peeta explains as they gaze at a mythical horse rising out of the snow, it’s mane unfurled around it. “It’s one of the biggest snow sculpture competitions in the world.” Their next stop is a giant lizard, his long tongue stretching across the snow, seemingly ready to lick unsuspecting passersby. A man of snow lies on the ground, fighting off a pack of wolves. Each design is more fanciful than the one before and Peeta and Katniss find themselves weaving elaborate stories about them.

“What do you think about this one?” Peeta asks, as they admire a sculpture of a woman, gowned in an elaborate dress, her hands outstretched in a frozen plea. Her wings tower high above them. “An angel?”

Katniss shakes her head vigorously. “No way. She’s a warrior. Check out the arrows on her back.”

Sure enough, Peeta spots the strap of her quiver carved into her dress and the fletchings peeking out over her shoulder. “I guess she’s an avenging angel, kind of like you.”

Katniss peers at him incredulously. “Are you kidding me?”

“C’mon Katniss. You know you love the underdog the best. You’re not afraid to fight for what you believe in. You even shoot. And I think she looks a little bit like you.” His companion scoffs. “No, really. Look. Long hair, pointed chin, big eyes that are impossible to resist. She’s stunning. Like you.”

Katniss gazes at him silently over the rim of her cup for a few seconds, then downs the rest of her hot chocolate. “You about finished?”

Peeta nods slowly, swallowing the now-cold dregs of his cocoa and watching her carefully. He’s observed - and catalogued - a wide variety of different Katniss expressions over the past twenty-four hours, but he’s not sure he’s seen this one before. “Sure,” he says. “Shall we head back to the hotel?” He knows she’s cold. He is too, and a little tired.

“How about we get some food?” There’s something about her soft smile that makes Peeta think she’s not talking about maple taffy, or frites from one of the food vendors around Carnaval. “There’s, uhm. There’s a little restaurant at the hotel. I peeked at it this morning,” Katniss says shyly, and Peeta can’t help grinning. They don’t have reservations, but he’s prepared to grovel, or maybe bribe the maitre d’, if it means seeing Katniss’s shy smile again.

They toss their paper cups in a bin, then Katniss’s mittened hand curls around Peeta's again.

The sun sets early in Quebec City in the winter, so when they pass Bonhomme’s house once more, the towering ice castle glows an almost otherworldly blue in the fading light. “It’s beautiful,” Katniss breathes, and as Peeta looks at her lovely face bathed in the ice-diffused spotlights he can’t help but agree.

A comfortable silence stretches between them as they stroll in the twilight, until they’re only about a block away from the hotel. “Hey,” Katniss says, her nose wrinkling in that way that Peeta can’t resist. “How are we here already? Where’s the foo-nic-yoo-lair?”

Peeta laughs, a silver-mist cloud of delight. “We took the scenic route this morning. I figured you’d want to get back to warmth a little faster tonight.” Katniss shrugs, but her hand squeezes his more tightly, he thinks maybe in gratitude.

Once they reach the hotel, Katniss heads directly to their room while Peeta pops into the restaurant to see about a table. It turns out he doesn’t have to beg or even take out his wallet; once he gives his name to the host the man smiles and tells him to come back in an hour. Peeta can’t help marvelling at his luck that Bistro Tournebroche can fit them in, even though it’s Carnaval time and the city is crazy busy.

He bounds up the stairs two at a time, anxious to tell Katniss the good news.

Katniss is sitting on the edge of the bed, watching the gas flames in the small fireplace. She’s taken off her winter gear, reddened fingers and stocking-clad feet stretched out towards the warmth. And for a few moments, all Peeta can think is how perfect a picture she makes, how much he would love to see her similarly perched in front of the fireplace in his Toronto condo. But he shakes away the mental image. Too soon, he chides himself.

When Peeta clears his throat, Katniss turns from her contemplation of the blue flames, and lifts an eyebrow. “They can fit us in at six-thirty,” he says. “Just enough time for a hot shower, if you want?” Peeta wouldn’t mind one himself; despite the breathtaking cold, all of the day’s walking has left him sweaty and with an epic case of hat-hair.

“Perfect,” Katniss says, standing gingerly. “Maybe that’ll thaw out my toes.”

They manoeuvre around each other in the small room like two people perfectly in sync, taking turns in the washroom, sharing the lone mirror. When Peeta emerges from the bathroom refreshed and fastening the cuffs of the deep blue button down shirt his father talked him into packing, Katniss is waiting. He freezes, jaw dropping. “What, too casual?” she asks.

“God no,” he breathes. She’s wearing the same slim jeans she wore yesterday, the ones Peeta already knows cling to her curves in the most incredible way, but she’s paired them with a slinky silvery top that hugs her perfect breasts. “Wow,” is all he can manage.

Katniss snorts, and the sound shakes away the fog, forces him to lift his eyes to the cascade of black hair, unbound and framing her face. To her lush lip, trapped between white teeth as gazes at him with trepidation, waiting.

“You are absolutely beautiful,” Peeta says sincerely. Her silver eyes briefly light up in pleasure, but she shrugs off the compliment.

“Right, okay, let’s go before I starve to death.” She tries to push past him, but Peeta reaches for her hand, tucking it firmly into the crook of his elbow.

The restaurant, like the hotel interior, is modern and cozy. They’re seated by one of the large windows, the perfect place to watch the flock of tourists who still stream by, lit by the street lamps. “Bonsoir madame, monsieur,” a young man in a waiter’s uniform greets them. “Puis-je vous apporter quelque chose à boire?” he asks, gesturing to the expansive wine list on the table.

“What do you think,” Peeta asks, skimming the list. “Would you like wine, or there’s a nice selection of local microbrews?”

The waiter, it turns out, speaks English, like many in the tourism industry in Quebec do. When he returns with their drinks - red wine for Katniss, beer for Peeta - he seems quite happy to translate the menu for Katniss and answer her questions. Peeta sips a very pleasant bier de blé while listening to him explain to Katniss the various organic offerings on the menu, the farms they’ve partnered with, the garden and beehives on the hotel’s rooftop. As Peeta watches her animatedly discuss ethical farming, he marvels at how perfect she is for him, how easily her interests align with his own.

And he knows-- she’s it for him. He’s completely head-over-heels in love with her.

It's the best date Peeta's ever been on, and he's not even sure it's a date. He's utterly captivated by the way the candlelight plays in Katniss’s ebony hair, crowning her in fire. He's lost in her silver eyes, imprisoned by her musical laughter. She's the most attractive person he's ever seen, the most appealing, the most dynamic. But beyond that, she's still his KatsEye, his best friend in the world. She still makes him laugh and think; still amazes him, only now the thoughts that enthrall him aren't lines of text in a chat, but actual words murmured in her husky voice, accompanied by a wrinkled nose or a bemused smirk.

They linger over coffee and crème brûlée, never once running out of things to say. Only when Katniss stifles a yawn does Peeta become aware of just how long they've been huddled together in the dim restaurant. “I guess we should call it a night?” Peeta’s reluctance is clear in his voice. But Katniss only nods.

Hand in hand, they ascend the stairs to their room. When they pause at the door, Peeta is struck by how much it feels like walking a girl to her door after a date. Except this isn’t just any girl, this is Katniss Everdeen. And he won’t be leaving her at the door.

He closes the door behind them, then turns to find Katniss stopped just inside, looking up at him with a mischievous glint in her steely eyes. “I had a really great time today,” she says, just barely loud enough for him to hear. “Thank you.”

“The pleasure was all mine,” Peeta smiles. He knows this day will live forever in his memory as one of the best of his life. Then Katniss reaches up, fingering the collar of his dress shirt, and he swallows hard. He wants to kiss her so bad, the impulse nearly consumes him, but he reins it in; even as her thumb brushes against his jaw, catches the day’s stubble, making him erupt in goosebumps. His hands find her tiny waist seemingly of their own volition, but even then he holds back. Peeta knows how skittish she is, knows that if he pushes things she’ll run, and he just won’t risk that.

But then Katniss smiles, beautiful and blinding, and before Peeta even realizes it, he’s leaning down. And she’s standing on tiptoe, her fingers winding in the curls at the nape of his neck. Time seems to stop at they stare, unblinking, lips only a breath apart. Fuck it, he thinks. She flew all the way here, she’s already been bold. Now he has to be too. And with that thought, his eyes drift closed and he places a gentle kiss on those lips that are just as soft as he imagined.

He pulls back a little, but she chases him, then they’re kissing like they really mean it, a delicious exploration. Home, Peeta thinks as Katniss nips his bottom lip, then soothes the sting with a swipe of her tongue. He’s home, and he never wants to leave.

Each slide of her lips against his fuels his hunger, each soft sigh a lightning bolt straight to his gut. As many times as he’s fantasized about kissing Katniss, the reality is so much better. Her shuddering breaths against his cheek. The heat of her skin where her top has pulled up just an inch, smooth under his twitching fingers.

They’re both breathing heavily when Katniss pulls back, eyes still closed and licking her lips as if she wants to savour every last taste of him. Peeta drops his forehead to hers, their noses just brushing. “Wow,” she whispers, and he puffs out a soft laugh.

“Wow,” he echoes

→ thg ←

While yesterday there was a sweet awkwardness in climbing into bed with Katniss, today there’s a crackling tension. Yesterday, the tank and tiny shorts she sleeps in were adorable, today they’re excruciating.

Peeta managed, barely, to get himself under control while Katniss was changing in their shared bathroom. But as she clicks off the light and slides under the comforter, her bare legs grazing his flannels, it’s all he can do to keep his dick in check. She’s gorgeous, she’s six inches away, and he now knows what her perfect peach pout tastes like. It’s the most delectable torture. But her post-kiss escape to the bathroom convinced him that they needed to slow down. For now.

He lies on his back, watching bits of light from a crack in the curtains play across the ceiling and listening to Katniss squirm as she tries to get comfortable. The distance between them feels intolerable, he wants to touch her, just to remind himself that she’s here, that she’s real. So he reaches out, tugging her closer. She stiffens, just a bit at first, but then she sighs and rests her head on his chest, right above his heart. And Peeta’s world realigns itself.

“Peeta?” It’s been quiet for so long he thought she was asleep. His fingers still where they’ve been doodling designs on the soft skin of her bare shoulder.

“Mmm?”

"What does tablon mean?”

“Tablon?” He searches for what she could be asking, coming up blank.

“I heard it a lot today. The crazy seal guy said it. The guy with the scary snowman. Even the waiter tonight. And maybe I’m wrong, but I think they were calling me tablon?”

Peeta’s breath catches. She means ta blonde, and yes, those men were definitely referring to her when they said it. “Ah,” he says, uncertain how she’s going to react. “Ta blonde, it, uh. It means ‘your girlfriend’.” He holds his breath, waiting for her to yell, or slap him.

“Oh,” she murmurs. “Ta blonde.” Her lilting accent makes the endearment sound like music. Then she nestles more snugly into his chest and he swears he can feel her smiling.

#peetabreadgirl #xerxia31 #burkygirl #smutketeers

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everlarkficupdate · 7 years

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Chapters: 5/? Fandom: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, Hunger Games Series - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark Characters: Katniss Everdeen, Peeta Mellark, Thresh (Hunger Games), Madge Undersee, Delly Cartwright Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - High School, Teen Romance, Awkward Flirting Summary:

An Everlark high school romance, published 500 words at a time. The first three chapters were written for @everlarkbirthdaydrabbles on Tumblr.

Chapter 5 is up but I couldn’t find anything on @burkygirl‘s blog to re-blog.

#everlarkficupdate #everlark authors #weekend reads #locker talk #burkygirl

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thgfanfictionlibrary · 2 months

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Friends to Lovers Fics Masterlist (5)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 /

Created: March 18th, 2024

Checked:---

A Girl, A Boy, and Everything Else.-CassandraO (ao3) Summary: It's been a year since the war ended. Peeta and Katniss are in the process of growing together. Peeta is learning about setting boundaries and taking better care of himself and Katniss is drowning in depression. How they grow together as friends and eventually, something else, all the while facing new challenges.

Arranged-CassandraO (ao3) Summary: Facing the death of her mother, 14-year old Katniss Everdeen and her 10-year old sister Prim move in with their widowed maternal grandmother, the apothecary's wife. In a world in which unmarried women cannot own property, Katniss' grandmother arranges with the town baker to marry off her eldest granddaughter at sixteen to protect her in case she dies before the girl is ready to marry. Luckily for all, Katniss gets to marry the youngest son, her close friend Peeta. Now, married young, the summer is coming, and with it, the 74th Annual Hunger Games.

Biggest Fan-burkygirl, Xerxia (ao3) Summary: Fanfic writer Peeta Mellark - Captain Amellarka to his readers - can hardly wait to spend a fun-filled weekend at the Québec Winter Carnival with Katseye, his beta and best friend. She's also possibly the love of his life, but he figures he probably should lay eyes on her in real life before he declares his undying devotion.

Crash My Party-Court81981 (ff.net) Summary: Modern AU. Peeta Mellark has never been able to say no to Katniss Everdeen. But after years as friends with benefits, that's going to have to change. Everlark.

Indestructible-HGfanonezillion (ao3) Summary: Mockingjay and Nightingale work hard to keep their city safe. But when Snow Industries introduces a new threat, can they keep the ones they love most safe? And will teaming up with Gaia and Electrode be a help or a hindrance? Just Friends-HGfanonezillion (ao3) Summary: Single father Peeta agrees to let his daughter sign up for an outdoor day camp for the summer. What he didn't expect was to befriend the director Katniss, a single mother herself. And no matter what all their friends say, the pair are ONLY friends. Right?

Mockingjay Inn-burkygirl (ao3) Summary: Katniss and Peeta are both frequent pop-in guests at an out-of-the-way B&B. One weekend, it is surprisingly booked up and the manager asks if they can share a suite in an effort to be less of an inconvenience for such loyal customers and since they sort of know each other.

Peeta's Blessing-cd291104 (ff.net) Summary: A Blessing In Disguise in Peeta's POV. AU/OCC. K/P have been best friends for years. They have difficulty with relationships. One night after a break up and with the help of tequila they find themselves crossing a line. The next morning they agree to pretend it never happened however that becomes impossible once Katniss confesses she's pregnant. Where does that leave them?

The One-burkygirl (ao3) Summary: Peeta is Katniss’s best friend and almost everything in her life revolves around him. When thoughts of Peeta start invading her dreams, Katniss must decide whether just being friends is enough.

This is Halloween-bubblegum1425 (ao3) Summary: Katniss Everdeen has been in love with her best friend, Peeta Mellark, for nearly as long as she'd known him. They'd grown together, carrying on their yearly Halloween tradition of watching The Nightmare Before Christmas and other scary movies, but this year was going to be different. This year, Katniss is finally going to use their time together to tell Peeta how she feels…if he doesn't ruin her plans first. College Everlark. Modern AU

#friends to lovers #masterlist #friendstolovers #thg fanfiction #everlark fanfiction #thg #everlark

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withheartfulloflove · 7 years

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Getting lucky (Love in Panem New Author’s challenge)

I’ve honestly tried to finish the story in time, but life happened((( And sadly it didn’t agree with my plans. This story was originally started as a birthday present for one of the most lovely ladies I’ve met in my life - @madamemarquise. I wasn’t happy with it, because it was supposed to be much better, so when @loveinpanem offered this wonderful challenge to help new authors, I decided to join)) My deepest gratitude goes to my amazing mentor @burkygirl. Your advice and encouragement are invaluable! Thank you!

This story was supposed to be a one-shot, but turns out it will be a short series in 3-4 parts. Rating: T. Enjoy!

Getting lucky

Coming home to Peeta was always the best part of any day for Katniss.

After hours upon hours spent working with people and keeping her customer-friendly smile on at all times, walking over the threshold of their small apartment was a true joy. And smiling because Peeta was already home, making something delicious she could smell all the way from the door, felt so much better than smiling because her manager threatened to lower her pay if she continued to scowl at people.

But that day there were no tell-tale signs of a meal cooking in the kitchen, and instead of the customary clatter of dishes in the sink, she could hear the distant clatter of Peeta typing something. He was still in the t-shirt he usually wore under his apron, and there was a bit of floor on the back of his neck. It looked like he was searching for something, as he kept clicking on different links, his gaze fixed on the screen. He was obviously very interested in whatever he was doing, considering he didn't even notice Katniss was already home. Getting behind him quietly, she saw him searching hotels in Paris. “Going somewhere?” she whispered, making him jump right out of his chair.

“Katniss! You almost gave me a heart attack!” Peeta took a deep calming breath. “Why are you home so early?” He checked his watch. “Oh, I can't believe it's so late already. I must've lost track of time. Do you mind ordering pizza? I haven't even started on dinner,” he said sheepishly.

“Sure!” Katniss settled into Peeta’s vacated chair. “Will you tell me what this is all about?” She asked while flicking open another tab and choosing their neighborhood pizza place from their favorites. She began to type in their order.

“Please don't laugh! I know it's silly, but I kind of came across this contest. We describe our dream vacation, and if we win, we get to go with all expenses paid,” Peeta explained with a small, hopeful smile.

“You do realize our chances of winning are practically non-existent? Neither one of us is particularly lucky. And nothing ever comes easily to us. The odds aren't exactly in our favor.”

“I know, I know… I just thought it would be nice to imagine it, kind of like traveling in our own minds? Please? It's not like we need to pay to enter, and we can have fun looking up the most ridiculous destinations or something,” Peeta pleaded. And he was right, as usual. No harm could come from spending one evening looking up places they will never get to see for real, and pretending they were going on an adventure.

The ultimate question was where to go. Assuming they won the contest, money ceased to be a problem, so they were only limited by their imaginations.

“New Zealand? We could go see the Shire.” Katniss chewed on her piece of pizza thoughtfully.

“I'm not sure I'm willing to spend a once in a lifetime opportunity on Hobbits,” Peeta chuckled softly. “And it's literally the other side of the world.”

“Okay, so Australia is out too, I guess. South America?”

“We could probably manage to go there ourselves someday. I was thinking Europe. We could go to Paris,” Peeta offered a bit shyly.

“Isn't Paris a bit cliche? It's pretty much the go-to romantic getaway.”

“Yeah, well, that's because it's amazing! We could see so much, Katniss! Just think about it!”

“So what, we spend two weeks going from one museum to the next? I'm not sure I'll survive that much culture and art, Peeta.”

“How about we split it then? One week in Paris, and for the other we do whatever you want? Please?”

“Fine.” Katniss kissed him softly. “France and neighboring countries then?”

Peeta's wide smile was her answer.

With their destination in mind, figuring out the schedule, flight connections, looking up apartments (and arguing whether the location of said apartments was more important than their interior design), writing down all the attractions they wanted to visit and all the things they wanted to experience in Paris was easy enough. Peeta took over the writing part, and in a couple hours Katniss was reading a thrilling tale of their Parisienne vacation-to be.

“Where should we spend the second part of our vacation?” Peeta wondered, nuzzling Katniss's neck, as they were lying in bed. She sighed in response, snuggling deeper into his embrace. “Katniss? I've seen how you looked at all the pictures of the mountains we've come across. Do you want to go hiking in the Alps?”

“No. Yes? I'm not sure how comfortable it would be for your leg. You are still getting used to this new prosthetic. And I want you to enjoy yourself, not exhaust yourself. Hiking in the mountains is ...well, they are mountains, so it would be demanding.”

Katniss kept rambling looking at his chest as new possible obstacles continued to invade her mind.

“Hey, it would be okay! I love you! Thank you for thinking of my comfort first, but I could do it, I promise! If you can brave museums, I'm more than willing to try the mountains. I can already walk long enough distances, so with a little more practice I'll be fine. Perhaps I'll have to skip the most dangerous trails, but I'm sure I'll manage the rest of them.”

“Thank you! And I love you! So much!” Katniss wrapped Peeta in a fierce hug, grateful for his willingness to take on such a formidable challenge. With a promise to figure out the details the next day, they fell asleep in each other’s arms, a smile on their faces.

The next day, they picked out a cozy chalet close to Annecy. Katniss looked through all the trails available in the vicinity of the little village they chose, and found many that would easily work for her and Peeta. She knew it was silly to get so excited over a vacation they would likely never take, but somehow, figuring out how they wanted to spend their time together had brought them so much closer.

After hitting the submit button, she tried to focus on the here and now, without getting her hopes up. It was a great dream, but that was all it was.

Hopefully you liked the first part of my little story)) I’ll try my best to post the next part in a few days. Have a wonderful weekend!

#My writing #getting lucky #madamemarquise #burkygirl #love in panem

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katnissdoesnotfollowback · 6 years

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@burkygirl replied to your post “If Peeta was in the Winter Olympics what would his event be? Hmm,...”

@peetabreadgirl wrote the volleyball fic. It's called Going for Gold and it's amazeballs. Personally, I see Peeta as a hockey player and K as a biathlete with gold medal potential. They're both Canucks, of course. ��

Get back here, @burkygirl. You slipped out of getting included in my last rant but don’t think you can hide from me! I don’t care how far north into igloo land you live. I’ll come find you. We’re gonna need some Team Canada fics during our Olympics-Palooza. @xerxia31... I SEE YOU LURKING IN MY NOTES LIKING THIS SHIT! Co-write together if you have to.

#burkygirl #xerxia31 #the topic of discussion is #winter olympics everlark #and i demand results #you all have unleashed my inner haymitch #now write the freaking stories

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everlarkficexchange · 7 years

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Mockingjay Inn

Written by: @burkygirl

Prompt 25: Katniss and Peeta are both frequent pop-in guests at an out-of-the-way B&B. One weekend, it is surprisingly booked up and the manager asks if they can share a suite in an effort to be less of an inconvenience for such loyal customers and since they sort of know each other. (Submitted by @roseymama )

Rated E, Trigger warnings for smut, a few curse words and mentions of a dying family member.

———

The silver Civic slipped up the paved drive that sloped through the woods before bursting into the clearing where a white, two-storey colonial waited serenely, like a queen holding court.

The driveway twisted around a shade garden tucked into a copse of trees and Katniss veered into the parking area, pushing the grief that threatened to overwhelm her away long enough to shift the car into neutral, set the parking brake and turn the key. Closing her eyes, she let her head fall against the headrest and drew in a breath. Her belly filled with air and then she expelled it slowly, imagining the stresses of her day floating away. She did it again. And again, drawing the negative energy along her limbs and visualizing it drifting away on the breath. Some days it helped.

Today was not one of those days, not after the news Prim had delivered this afternoon.

Her eyelids fluttered open and the square corners of the heritage home came back into view; its perfect symmetry, its black shutters and red front door bidding her welcome. The sheltering walls of the Mockingjay Inn had become a second home to her these last months. She loved this old house, tucked away in the woods, invisible from the main road and advertised only by word of mouth. Her old school friend, Madge, had painstakingly renovated it after inheriting it from her grandmother a few years ago. It was a labour of love for Madge, who seemed to have planted her spring flowers since Katniss was here last week. She spotted the happy faces of pansies peeking out from around the hostas that lined the beds next to the house and red and white petunias spilled from the urns on the front steps.

When she stepped from the car, the heady rush of the crisp breeze set her heart racing and teased at the hem of her skirt. A fresh gust whipped the wayward wisps of raven hair that always escaped the confines of her braid. She breathed deeply again, filling her body with the brisk, clean air and whisking away the stench of slow decay and antiseptic attempting to permeate her bones. This time, her exhale carried a piece of her burden away.

Her sorrow eased, however briefly, Katniss popped open the trunk of her car and grabbed her black overnight bag. She’d go inside, get checked in, and then curl up in front of the Inn’s fireplace with a glass of wine. If she was lucky, Peeta would be there already and they could chat. It was a real stroke of luck that his business seemed to bring him to Panem, New York every week since she’d first met him here at the Inn. There were few things she enjoyed more than sitting beside Peeta as he sketched whatever came to mind and they talked about the days that had passed since they last saw each other. She loved putting aside the drama of her own life to listen to stories about the eccentric customers who frequented his gallery.

Her feet all but flew up the steps and she breezed through the door only to find Madge and Peeta engaged in a serious conversation near the antique dresser that Madge had placed in the foyer and from which she liked to conduct her business.

Peeta’s hand was fisted in the golden curls at the back of his head. He pulled his hair and then released it to scratch at the back of his neck. In the dresser’s mirror, Katniss could see that his face was twisted in consternation while Madge tried, a little desperately, to convince him of something.

Madge’s offered Katniss a bright smile as the door closed behind her. “Hello, Katniss. Welcome back!”

Peeta nodded in her direction, the expression in his usually bright blue eyes still troubled. “Katniss.”

“What’s going on?” Katniss dropped her bag on the Oriental rug arranged under the chandelier in the middle of the room.

Peeta grimaced and dropped his hand to the granite top of the dresser. “You’re going to love this one, Katniss.”

Madge shushed him. “Katniss, the Inn has just been given a remarkable opportunity. A team from a Capitol TV travel show is coming to do a story on the area and they want to feature the Mockingjay Inn as Panem’s best kept secret.”

Katniss’s chest surged with pride for her friend. “Well, it is,” she said firmly. “That’s wonderful, Madge! Such great exposure for you!”

Madge beamed, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement. “It is. I’m so thrilled. I just knew you’d understand.”

Peeta scoffed. “No, she doesn’t Madge. You haven’t told her when they’re arriving.”

A leery tingle of suspicion crept up Katniss’s spine. “When, Madge?”

“Tonight,” her friend enthused. “So, if you and Peeta would just agree, then everything will be just perfect.”

“Madge…” Peeta warned.

Madge caught her perfect pink bottom lip between her teeth. “Well, you see, Katniss,” she cleared her throat. “They will be staying tonight, to get the full experience. They require four rooms, and the Inn has-”

“Five,” Peeta interrupted impatiently. “The Inn has five rooms. Madge wants us to share a room.”

“No,” Madge corrected hastily. “The Inn has six bedrooms. The master suite has two bedrooms. It’s usually booked by families, but you and Peeta are such good friends, Katniss, that I’m sure it would work. I’ll cut your rate in half for tonight, if you’ll agree.”

Katniss had to admit that a cut on her room was rather appealing. Travelling up to Panem from the city each weekend was costing her a fortune. She could stay elsewhere, but the lonely, cookie-cutter rooms of the hotels in the downtown held no appeal at all. She could stay at her sister Prim’s house but that felt like a prison sentence, especially after Prim’s revelation today. The quiet of the Inn and her time with Peeta have been her oasis in the middle of this ordeal. She wasn’t sure she would get through the night if she wasn’t able to put her troubles aside for a little while and enjoy his company. Plus, she knew she would be safe with him in the suite.

“Okay,” she decided. “I’ll allow it.”

She almost laughed at their reactions. Madge’s face was the picture of relief. Peeta’s was filled with shock.

“Really?” they said in unison.

She shrugged. “Who am I to turn down a cheap night in a four-star bed and breakfast?”

“Peeta?” asked Madge. Katniss watched him clear his throat and nod.

“If Katniss is comfortable with it, then I’ll be fine,” he softly replied.

Madge was still clapping her hands in glee when Katniss turned to pick up her suitcase and started for the mahogany staircase. “Alright Madge, show us tonight’s accommodations.”

——

The room was not what she expected.

As they’d travelled up the broad steps in the heart of the house, Madge had nattered on about her master suite, then she’d opened the door to the room and whisked off to prepare the other rooms for her Capitol TV guests.

A queen-sized four-poster bed dressed in a russet orange duvet graced the main room of the suite and was heaped with a mound of plush and inviting pillows. In the corner, a couple of rich leather armchairs with embroidered footstools flanked a gas fireplace. Two doors stood firmly closed on each side of the bed. Behind one door was a tiny private bathroom with a marble stand up shower. Behind the other was tucked a double bed and a small nightstand. Madge had obviously renovated a walk-in closet and a dressing room to construct the suite. It was perfect for a family with young children.

Not so perfect for a couple of friends, Katniss thought, and scowled. “We’ve been bamboozled.”

Beside her, Peeta huffed in frustration. “I’m not sure how to be the gentleman here,” he frowned. “If I take the smaller bed, I compromise your privacy. If I take the bigger bed, I’ve consigned you to the smaller room.” He scrubbed his hand over his face. “We could get rooms in town?”

She turned to observe Peeta watching her warily. His light blue button-down was hanging over a pair of well-worn jeans, its sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms. His leather overnight bag still hung from his shoulder. Was he expecting her to have a fit over their accommodations? Not likely. It was still better than her alternatives. At least he wasn’t suggesting they split up. She was a little afraid to be alone with her thoughts. They’d pull her under and she’d never find her way out. Dropping her bag on the butler’s bench poised at the foot of the bed, Katniss shook her head. “We’re here now. We’ll just have to make the best of it. We can flip a coin for the bed later.” She lowered herself to the bench. “How was your week?”

The corner of his mouth twitched and he closed the space between them, dropping his bag on the hardwood floor as he perched on the edge of the bed. “Not bad. Ms. Trinket finally bought that piece she’s been eying.”

“That was the modern one with all the bright colours, right?”

Peeta nodded. Effie Trinket, a retired Broadway actress who Katniss figured had more money than brains, was one of Peeta’s customers. “That’s the one. Then I sold her a sculpture of a man made out of recycled cans. His legs once held creamed corn, I swear.”

Katniss couldn’t help it, she laughed. “She lurves you, Peeta. She’d take anything you’re selling. You’ll be husband number 6, I just know it. “

Peeta shuddered. “I’m pretty sure she made more money collecting on divorce settlements than she ever made on the stage. Her latest husband, Mitch, I think his name is, answered the door when I made the delivery this week. He was as drunk as a skunk.”

Katniss’s eyes rounded. “You’re doing the deliveries now?”

“Only if the client pays for a professional installation. Which Effie always does.”

She shook her head in resignation. “Effie, huh? Well, you’ll have to be sure to give me her address before you leave. If you don’t show up here next Saturday, I’ll send the police to check her basement. She’ll have you tied to a post, trying to make you her love slave.”

Peeta gagged and threw himself back against the bed, clapping his hand over his face “You’re going to give me nightmares.”

Katniss was still laughing when he raised his hand and turned his head to look at her; his face so close to hers that she could count each one of his long, golden eyelashes.

“Don’t worry, Katniss. I’ll be here next week. Wild horses couldn’t keep me away,“ he whispered, brushing her cheek with the pad of his thumb.

Katniss wondered if they’d ever been this close before. She’d never noticed the flecks of grey in the blue pools of his eyes or the tiny freckles that sprayed across his nose. His lips were smooth and softly parted.

A swift rap on the door interrupted her train of thought. “I opened you guys a bottle of merlot in the drawing room,” Madge called out from the other side before carrying on down the hall.

Peeta’s hands slapped against his knees as he sat up. “A drink before dinner sounds great.” He stood, and offered his hand to Katniss. “Shall we?”

She took it and Peeta’s long fingers wrapped securely around hers as she followed him to the door. She missed their steadiness when he let go to allow her passage over the threshold ahead of him, but then they ghosted along the small of her back as he guided her through. The warmth of his touch lingered all the way down the stairs and into the drawing room.

After Peeta poured them each a glass of wine, they settled into their usual spots on the couch in front of the fireplace and Peeta began a story about his client, Mr. Craine, his strange beard and his taste for phallic imagery in modern art.

“Honestly, Katniss, I showed him a cubist portrait the other day. I told him the subject’s nose, which was located where the ear should be, appeared to have been subtly but deliberately widened at the base, and he bought it on the spot.”

Katniss looked pensive. “I wonder if you could sell him a still life bowl of fruit.”

“If it’s got bananas in it, consider it sold.”

They were still snickering when they heard the entrance door burst open and the house was filled with chatter.

“Lovely, just lovely,” boomed a pompous voice. “It’s so perfectly quaint and cozy. What do you want to bet her grandmother’s needlepoint hangs over the fireplace?”

A high-pitched female voice tittered and Katniss peered up at the mantle. She thought the intricate needlepoint was probably done by Madge’s great grandmother, but wasn’t sure what was so hilarious about valuing where you came from.

Another female voice, this one lower and more soothing murmured to the group.

“I don’t know, Cressida. Is there a bell on that old dresser, there?” the male voice replied. “Ring it, why don’t you?”

“No need, no need.” They could hear Madge bustle in and begin tending to their varying needs. Yes, the heat had been turned down in Mr. Heavensbee’s room. There were no feathers on Ms. Cardew’s bed. Yes, the rooms were large enough to store the equipment. Yes, Madge could provide a vegetarian meal for dinner. No, vegan was not an option. Yes, the list of Cressida’s food allergies had arrived by email. Yes, she had free wifi. Yes, there were private bathrooms in each guest suite. No her towels were cotton, not bamboo.

Peeta rolled his eyes and Katniss laughed again.

“You’re sure you don’t want to stay downtown?”

She imagined herself dissolving into tears in a sterile hotel room. “I’m positive.” Peeta smiled at her and raised his glass to sip his wine. “There’s no way we could drink wine and talk about penis paintings in a hotel lobby.”

Peeta was still choking when the rotund body that belonged to the booming voice in the entryway appeared in the doorway to the room.

“Brilliant! Other guests.” His beefy hands collided in a swift clap and then he rubbed them together. “Plutarch Heavensbee. I’m the producer of Byways and Getaways for Capitol TV. We’re doing a segment on the town and the inn. But, don’t you worry. Your visit will not be disturbed.”

Peeta, now recovered, offered him an easy smile and stood, offering his hand. “Peeta Mellark, “ he said and gestured to Katniss. “My friend, Katniss Everdeen.”

“A pleasure to meet you, “ Plutarch enthused. Katniss wished she could say the same. He had invaded her favourite space and now he was interrupting her Peeta time. “What brings you to the inn?”

“Just up for the weekend, “ he replied, and Katniss thought it odd that he didn’t mention he had business in the area.

“Exactly the demographic we are trying to reach with our show. I knew we were right about this place. Where do you hail from?”

“I’m the curator of PMG in the city. Katniss lives there too. She’s an environmental engineer.“

Katniss reached out her hand to shake Plutarch’s and it felt like she’d wrapped her fingers around a dead fish. Her father used to say that a man’s handshake told you all you needed to know about him. “It’s a pleasure, Katniss. Well, what do you think? Isn’t this the perfect spot for a romantic getaway?”

“I suppose,” Katniss conceded, though she found it hard to imagine staying here without tragedy looming over her head. “I’m from Panem, actually, so I’m just here to see my family.”

“No reason why the two of you can’t mix family obligations with a little romance, especially in a setting like this one,” said Plutarch with a laugh before turning to Peeta.

As Plutarch and Peeta continued with their social niceties – it turned out Plutarch had heard of Peeta’s gallery and knew Effie – Katniss pondered why her path had never crossed Peeta’s until they had met here. They both lived in the same city. They were about the same age. But it was a huge city, and she wasn’t much for the nightlife, so maybe it wasn’t such a surprise after all. But even now that they’d met, they didn’t see each other between visits to the Inn.l They exchanged the odd text, but they never met for lunch or grabbed a quick drink after work. She’d never questioned it before, but now she wondered why that was, and whether that would change if she were no longer coming to the Inn each weekend. What if it didn’t? Would another female guest take her place? The idea clawed at her.

“Dinner is served,” called Madge from the doorway.

As they passed under the chandelier in the foyer to the dining room across the hall, Peeta tucked Katniss’s hand under his arm. She was surprised to discover his bicep was rock hard beneath the soft cotton of his shirt. She chanced a glance up at him and found his eyes full of concern.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No, of course not.”

The thumb of his free hand stroked over her knuckles. “I wasn’t sure. You seemed so distant in the other room.”

“It’s not you, Peeta. I’ve just… Got a lot on my mind.” He nodded in understanding, but did not release her hand. That was fine with Katniss. His gentle strength was exactly what she needed.

In the dining room, the lights had been dimmed and the large table where they usually supped with Madge was already filled with the television crew. Katniss spotted Plutarch settling in beside a dark-haired woman whose face powder gave the apples of her cheeks a silver glow. Across the table from him was a man with a red-tinged beard and another willowy woman whose hair was shaved on one side of her head.

Madge pointed them to a table for two she’d set up near the windows. “I thought you two might enjoy some privacy.” Peeta gave her a grateful smile and he led the way to the more intimate setting, where the flickering of the candle was reflected in the glasses between their places and glimmered in the polished silver that lay on the tablecloth. When Katniss reached her chair, Peeta quickly pulled it out for her and slid her into place. Madge arrived tableside and poured another rich red, wine into fresh glasses.

“This meal has to be perfect,” she whispered to them, her back to the camera crew.

“It will be, Madge,” Katniss soothed. “All your meals are perfect. They’ll love it.”

“Let’s hope so,” her friend sighed, and outlined the evening’s dining choices: a braised lamb shank in a red wine sauce and served with rosemary garlic mashed potatoes or eggplant parmesan with arugula salad.

Peeta grinned at Katniss. “I know what you’re going to choose.”

“The lamb,” they said in unison.

“For you as well, Peeta?” Madge asked. He nodded and their hostess pasted a smile on her lips. “Okay then, wish me luck.” She turned back to the crowd at the table to take their orders.

“I guess you know what a carnivore I am by now,” Katniss teased after Madge left.

“You told me a few months ago that lamb is your favourite.”

“I did?”

“Sure, one night Madge served a gorgeous Beef Wellington and you said that you enjoyed it but that lamb was your favourite.”

Katniss remembered that night – the flakey crust wrapped over the succulent steak, the rich aroma of the wine. Madge had dimmed the chandelier over the dining room table and they’d talked for hours. Peeta had told them all about the hours he’d spent on a beach in the south of Spain, painting the sunset over the Mediterranean Sea, frantically mixing his paints to achieve exactly the right shade of orange. His eyes were as blue as the water that night and Katniss has never looked a a sunset the same way since.

“I can’t believe you retained a little detail like that,” she said.

Madge arrived with their meals and the savoury aroma curled tantalizingly toward her.

Peeta tugged his napkin from under his cutlery and laid it in his lap. “I remember everything about you, Katniss.” He cleared his throat and looked back up at her. “So, how were things today?”

She fiddled with the stem of her wine goblet before lifting it to take a healthy swallow. “Rough, as usual.” Rougher than usual, really, but she’d promised herself she wouldn’t think about that yet. “Dad just lies there, fading to nothing. Prim takes Mom with her every day when she goes to work at the hospital. She drops Mom off in his room, works a 12-hour shift, then picks her up in his room when it’s time to go home. Mom doesn’t leave his side, except to go to the bathroom.”

“She’s certainly devoted.”

“She is, but it’s more than that, Peeta. It’s like she can’t function without him. Dad’s car accident was four months ago, and she’s barely said a word since it happened. When she’s not at the hospital, she’s sleeping.”

Katniss adored her father and she’d missed him every day since he’d lost control of his truck on that icy road last winter. But it was her mother’s desertion that hurt the most. Her father might have been alone in his vehicle, but she and her sister had lost both of their parents that night.

And since Katniss lived and worked in Capitol City, poor Prim was bearing the day-to-day stress of caring for both of their parents. It was Prim who’d called Katniss to say the doctors had decided their mother lacked the competency to make decisions about their father’s care. Prim had closed up their parent’s house and moved Mom into her place. Prim made sure Mom got out of bed, ate, washed herself and went back to bed. Prim dealt with the myriad of decisions that had to be made for both of their parents every day. All Katniss had to do was show up on Saturday morning, take their mother to the hospital and spend the day watching their father waste away while a respirator and a feeding tube kept his body alive and her mother desperately clung to the hope he’d wake up. When the sun began to set, she kissed her father’s cheek, took Mom back to Prim’s house and put her to bed.

Every second of every minute that she sat in that ass-numbing visitor’s chair beside her father’s bed, Katniss wished she could be somewhere - anywhere - else; to run to her car, drive back to the city and never return. Only the bone-crushing guilt that her baby sister was dealing with this fiasco on her own had her packing her car every Saturday morning for the 60-mile drive north to Panem.

Well, that, and the man sitting on the other side of the table, whose smile lit up every room in her heart. He smiled at her sympathetically.

“I’d like to say I understand what you’re going through, Katniss, but my father’s death was so sudden, it can’t compare. Just know that I haven’t forgotten what that felt like. I understand what it means to lose someone so important to you.” His hand covered hers, and then his thumb stroked over her knuckles. “I’m here for you, Katniss, whatever you need. I hope you know that.”

His kindness made her want to laugh and cry at the same time. What did she ever do to deserve a friend like him? “Thank you, I-”

“Look at that!” Plutarch’s voice boomed from the other table. “Pollux go get your camera. Do you see it Cressida? They’re perfect!”

Katniss turned her head towards the other table where Plutarch was grinning like someone who’d found the prize at the bottom of the cereal box. The woman across from him was considering them carefully, the long, platinum locks on the unshaved part of her head falling over her left shoulder. Finally, she nodded. “Yes, you’re right. They’re perfect. And the setting is just right.”

“Well, you two. How about it?” Plutarch rose from the table and loomed over them. “Want to be on our show?”

Peeta was the first to recover. “We’re not-, I mean…”

“Professional actors. I know,” Plutarch said. “That’s what makes you so right for this. Your chemistry is palpable. It was slapping me in the face, even all the way over there.”

It was? Her attempts to process that revelation were interrupted by the thumps and rattles of the cameraman, Pollux, who came back into the room, a television camera hoisted on his shoulder.

She was already working up an impressive no speech when Cressida spoke up. “You don’t have to of course,” she demurred from the other table, “But don’t you want to help your friend? Footage of an actual couple enjoying the inn is so much more effective than shots of charming but empty rooms.”

One look at Madge’s pleading face and Katniss’s protests crumbled. Three minutes on camera wasn’t going to kill her. When she peeked over at Peeta, he was wavering too. But she knew he wouldn’t agree, not without her.

“Alright, fine,” she acquiesced. Peeta gave a swift nod and Plutarch threw his hands up in joy. He might as well have won the lottery. Before long, Cressida – who apparently was the show’s director – had Pollux in position for a long shot.

“I want you to start wide,” she instructed Pollux, “And bring it in slowly on the two of them while they continue their dinner. Pollux nodded and got into position. She turned to Peeta, “And I want you to go back to looking at her as though she’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. And you,” she laid a hand on Katniss’s shoulder that Katniss had to force herself not to shrug off, “You just keep looking up at him like he hung the moon.”

It was impossibly awkward, trying to eat while the camera was rolling. She was conscious of every chew of the lamb, every bite of her potatoes. They tasted like ash in her mouth because she couldn’t relax. Meanwhile Cressida’s words kept rolling through her head. Since when did Peeta look at her like she was beautiful? How ridiculous. Just the implication that he had feelings for her had even turned the tips of his ears pink. But now, that the camera was rolling he was putting on a masterful performance, smiling sweetly at her in the candlelight.

Three minutes turned out to be twenty. Each time Pollux finished the shot, Cressida reviewed it, picked it apart and had him shoot it again. Once Cressida was happy with the long shot, she had Pollux pan from one of them to the other. Then Peeta gazing at her. Then her doing her best not to scowl at him. She also had him shoot their joined hands before pulling out to their dinner.

She heaved a sigh of relief when Pollux finally turned off the camera, but by then her meal was cold. Madge collected their plates with a smile, and whispered that she was so grateful for their help that she was comping their room for the night.

At least they didn’t bother her while she was enjoying her tiramisu. Plutarch’s plan that Peeta feed her a bite from his fork, was thwarted by Madge who suggested they all have a break and some dessert.

Katniss had never been so relieved to be finished with a meal. She was already making her escape to the staircase when Plutarch started wheedling for just a “few more shots” in the drawing room. Before long, she found herself nestled hip-to-hip with Peeta in front of a roaring fire, Katniss tucked beneath his arm and their long-stemmed wine glasses clutched in their fingertips while the camera rolled.

“Cut!” At Cressida’s call, Pollux put the camera down and rolled his shoulders. Cressida was oblivious to his discomfort. “Alright, Katniss,” she coached. “This time when Pollux starts recording, I want you both to be staring into the fire. Then on the count of five I want you to lay your head on Peeta’s chest. Got it?”

She bit her lip. It was one thing to hold hands over dinner or sit in front of the fire. This next shot felt terribly romantic and it seemed wrong to continue to pretend like this. Peeta picked up on her uncertainty and was arguing that they were tired when she realized she might never again have a chance at a moment like this with Peeta. Even if Prim changed her mind about tomorrow and she came back the following weekend, she had no idea whether Peeta felt anything for her but friendship. Suddenly, she found her tongue.

“It’s fine, Peeta. Don’t worry about me.” His blue eyes were full of concern when they peered down at her.

“You sure?”

She nodded, wondering if it were possible to drown in someone’s gaze. “Yeah.” The corner of his mouth quirked in a slight smile and she imagined pressing her lips to the spot.

Plutarch made a pleased noise. “Oh that’s perfect. That’s exactly what we want, Isn’t it Cressida?”

“We’ll do it all in one take,” the director agreed. “Fulvia, take Peeta’s glass, please.”

“I’m the host, not a gofer,” the other woman huffed as she snatched Peeta’s glass away.

“You’re not a coat rack either, yet you insist on standing there and doing nothing,” Cressida snapped.

Katniss decided she rather liked Cressida, who turned back to her, her irritation buried under her professional veneer. “As I said, you two, we’ll do one last take and then we’ll set you free. Katniss, I want you to do exactly as I said. Gaze at the fire, count to five, lay your head on his chest. Then Peeta, with your free hand, reach up to stroke her cheek. And if you two stare at each other with the same intensity that you just had, the Mockingjay Inn will be full for the next 10 years.”

“Can we please just do this?” Peeta sounded pained.

“Rolling,” Cressida called. The room was silent except for the crackle of the fire. Katniss watched it dance in the hearth before relaxing against Peeta and laying her cheek against the soft cotton of his shirt. She could hear his heart racing beneath her ear. She closed her eyes, fixing the moment in her mind forever. The spice of his cologne, the natural musk of his skin. The firmness of his chest and the warmth of his body. Even if it wasn’t real, she wanted to be able to recall this memory whenever her thoughts strayed to him. When his fingers grazed her cheek, Katniss opened her eyes and found his to be staring back at her, filled with fondness and, dare she say, longing?

“Cut!” Cressida said and Peeta leapt to his feet, reaching out to tug Katniss off the floor.

“Well, it’s been fun, folks, but Katniss and I are calling it a night,” he said, never letting go of her hand. Cheerfully waving good night, but allowing no further discussion, he ushered her from the room. His jaw was tense, she noted, and a current was passing between them that was almost palpable in the air. When he glanced toward her, she could see something brewing in his expression that she’d never noticed before.

When they reached the top of the stairs, Peeta opened the door to their room and allowed her to pass through before him. It snicked closed and they were left in the cozy space where it seemed Madge had snuck in to light the fireplace and turn down their beds. Lamps glowed on the end tables on each side the big four-poster.

“Katniss,” Peeta said, in a voice just barely above a whisper. Her eyes flew to where he stood by the door, watching her. She was reminded briefly of a stormy sea and then she found herself surrounded by him, wrapped snugly in his arms as his lips came crashing down upon hers. At once, they gave and demanded. Took and soothed. He bit her lip, begged forgiveness with a swipe of his tongue and then parted her bruised lips to slip inside. Here, her body sang as her tongue slid against his. Here is what you’ve been looking for. What you’ve been missing. The one you need.

When they were both gasping for air, he pulled back, framing her face with his hands, feathering kisses across her cheeks, the tip of her nose, her forehead before finally lowering his brow to hers. She locked her hands around his wrists.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I’ve been waiting so long to tell you how I feel. You’ve been dealing with so much. You don’t need demands from me too, but the way you were looking at me down there, Katniss…. I just- I couldn’t hold back anymore. You mean so much to me and if you don’t want this, I’ll try to under-”

She had to shut him up. Had to. So she rose up on her toes and kissed him with all that she’d been holding inside for him; weaving her fingers into his hair as she’d ached to do, revelling in the sharp scrape of his stubble, committing the taste of his lips to her memory. How could they both have been feeling this way and not known the attraction was mutual?

“It’s not just you,” she assured him when they broke apart again. “I didn’t know how to tell you. I’m not very good with words, especially when it’s important.”

A groan sounded low in his throat and his hands clutched at her hips, pulling her close. Heat flashed between them and she stroked the iron of his biceps and wrapped her arms around his middle before clutching the back of his shirt in her fists. Her own shirt rose slightly and his thumb stroked the bare skin that appeared just above the waistline of her jeans. Goosebumps prickled on her flesh and the sharp edge of need sliced through her again. A soft mewl escaped her lips and his hands slipped from her hips to stroke the soft curve of her bottom. His lips roamed her jaw then moved to suckle the sensitive spot on her neck just below her ear.

It felt indescribably good, like she’d found a part of herself that she hadn’t known was missing. She craved him, each touch drawing her ever deeper under his spell. Her panties were soaked and her mind was whirling. She wanted him over her, inside her, wrapped in the knot of her legs while he took her flying.

Was it wrong to give into this now? When they’d only just confessed their feelings? When she knew tomorrow she’d be kissing her father good-bye?

Peeta lifted his head to stare down at her. His lips were swollen from her kisses; his blonde locks tousled. His eyes burned with desire, but his gentleness and innate decency remained. Her hands slid into his hair, toying with the curls at the nape of his neck.

He leaned down to nuzzle her nose. “Everything alright?”

“Prim told the doctors they could unplug our dad tomorrow.”

With a curse, Peeta released her and then led her over to the bed. They toed off their shoes and curled up under the covers where he drew her into his arms. She lay there quietly, her body still thrumming with need, but her mind at peace.

”Katniss, I’m so sorry. I know you were hoping he’d get better.”

“I was for awhile,” she admitted on a shaky breath, “But now, I just want him to be able to hold on to his dignity. He would hate this, Peeta. More than anything. Sometimes I think he won’t wake up because he’d never want to face this.”

He pressed a kiss to her brow. “I’m sorry. I should never have started all that before. If I’d known what you were going through-”

She covered her mouth with her hand. “Stop. Please don’t be sorry for that. I can’t handle it if you say sorry for wanting me.”

He snorted and she wondered if he’d picked up that habit from her. “Can’t be sorry for that,” he answered. “Not when it came to me as naturally as breathing.”

She gave her head a brief shake and raised up on her elbow. “What?”

“You have no idea, the effect you have on me.” At her dismissive noise, he flipped her over, settling his body on hers and pinning her wrists above her head. “It’s true,” he insisted. “I walked into the drawing room that first night we met. You were curled up on the couch, staring into the fire, your braid falling over your shoulder. You turned to look at me and my mind just blanked. And then I knew.”

She felt like she should scoff and push him away, but another part – the part that remembered their first meeting like a favourite movie – hungered to hear the rest. “Knew what?” she croaked.

“That you were perfect for me. I just needed time to convince you that I was perfect for you too.”

No convincing had been necessary. Not really. Not when she spent Monday to Friday thinking about when she would see him again. “I guess you’re lucky that work kept bringing you up here, then.”

He chuckled, pushing her hands higher over her head, his face so close she could feel the heat of his breath on her cheeks. “Is that what you think? That I’ve been coming up here week after week, for work? Do you really think there are that many art connoisseurs in this little town?”

“Well, why else would you-”

Peeta rolled his eyes, exasperated. “Katniss.” He clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Why do you think?”

Oh. “But you never called, hardly ever texted me during the week. How was I to know if you never gave me a sign?”

He blushed a little. “There were plenty of signs. I guess I was waiting for one from you.”

She spread her legs until he was nestled between her thighs. Locking her feet under his knees, she brought her lips to his. “How’s that for a sign?”

“I’ll take it,” he rasped, locking his fingers with hers. She took his bottom lip between her own and clung, nipping lightly. He let go of her hands to frame her face with his own and buried his fingers in her raven tresses. Free to wander, hers fell to his shoulders, admiring their breadth before slipping between the two of them to loosen the buttons of his shirt. Dissatisfied with the amount of skin she could reach, Katniss tugged impatiently at the hem of his shirt.

“Off,” she muttered as she laved her way up his neck to take his earlobe in her teeth. “Now,” she whispered in his ear.

“Bossy,” he complained from inside the shirt as he rose on his haunches to pull it over his head, too eager to be free of it to finish with the buttons. He tossed it aside and at last she could glory in his sculpted chest, his pectoral muscles dusted with blonde hair that narrowed into a trail that disappeared below the waistband of his jeans. She scratched her nails along his chest until they reached the button of his jeans. When she flipped it open, and reached for his fly, Peeta’s hand covered hers.

“You first,” he insisted. “I need to see you.” he swallowed. “Take your shirt off, Katniss.”

The heat of her blush raced up her neck until even her ears burned. “I’m nothing special,” she protested. “Let me touch you.”

He shook his head. “I’ve been having this dream about you. Please.” She huffed. Her fingers wrapped around the hem off her sweater so that she could whip it off, when he stilled her hand again.

“Slowly.”

Obediently, she slowed her hand. Her grey eyes locked on his face, watching his expression as she exposed the flat of her belly, the olive skin coming into view inch by inch. His eyes were dark, like bottomless pools. His tongue flicked out across his bottom lip, still swollen from her attentions. The sweater climbed over her rib cage and up her breasts before finally slipping over her head and falling into a heap on the floor.

She lay before him, her slight breasts still encased in the white cotton bra she’d donned that morning. His eyes closed and he exhaled softly, then opened them and smiled. “You are so beautiful.”

Her heart flipped over in her chest and she knew it was lost to him, that her feelings shone from every pore. He flicked open her jeans, lowered the zipper and lowered his lips to the soft flesh just above the hem of her panties. His mouth slid higher and her core burned as he laved a trail along her belly button, dipping in briefly before travelling up her sternum to the valley between her breasts. His lips caressed one soft mound and then the other. Her fingers wove themselves back into his hair, clutching him to her, and he moaned softly when she gave it a little tug to bring his mouth back to hers. He tasted of wine and she drank him in, revelling in the pleasure of his skin against hers. Her hips rose from the bed, sending a spike of heat through her as her most sensitive place ground against his erection. She moaned and arched her back as she moved against him again.

Peeta’s hand slipped beneath her to remove her bra, unclasping it, and then sliding it from her shoulders to toss it to the floor. He closed his hand over one before drawing the soft brown tip of the other into his mouth, the tension continuing to build ever higher between her legs. His name fell from her lips and he raised his head to give her a naughty grin and then lowered his mouth to her opposite breast. With his other hand, he rolled the nipple he’d already teased into a taut peak between his fingers.

Her hands ran down his back and slipped beneath his shorts, admiring the shape of his ass before driving him even harder against the apex of her thighs.

They grunted in unison, and Peeta raised his head, his eyes dancing as they laughed. He pecked her lips and then slid off of her. They lay side by side, their arms draped loosely over each other’s sides. The next smile he offered her was sheepish.

“I didn’t exactly come prepared for this,” he admitted, “If you want to take this farther, that is.”

Katniss bit her lip as she considered the contents of her bag. “Me either.” She considered a moment. “We’ll just have to be creative,” she decided and sat up, smiling to herself when she noticed his eyes following her breasts.

She climbed from the bed and shimmied out of her jeans. “C’mon Mellark, match me?”

By the time she climbed back up on the bed, Peeta’s jeans were hitting the floor, his boxer briefs not far behind them. Still on all fours, her eyes roamed his body, the broad chest, the tight abs, the happy trail pointing the way to a long, hard cock. She licked her lips, thinking about what she had in mind and it twitched slightly. Amused, her eyes flew back to Peeta’s face. He shrugged. “It’s just saying hello. Come closer, please. I want to touch you.”

She crawled to him, enjoying the way his eyes followed the sway of her hips, then rose up on her knees before him. His hand slid up her inner thigh, trailing up until he brushed against her lower lips before sliding down again to her knee. He rose up on his elbow, placing a kiss against her hip.

“So lovely,” he murmured against her skin. “I’m going to paint you, someday, if you let me.” His lips travelled just above the dark triangle between her legs while his fingers crept up her thigh again. “Your hair unbound, falling down your back in the sunshine. Your skin practically glows, Katniss. I can make all kinds of colours in my paint box, but I could spend all day trying to get your skin just right.” This time, his fingers caressed her slit slowly, drawing her breath from her in sharp pants, before delving deeper in search of the swollen bud seeking his attention. Her head fell back and a high pitched moan fell from her lips when he began to stroke it.

“Peeta,” she gasped, riding his hand.

“Fuck, Katniss. You’re so wet.”

Her hands slid slowly up her body, cupping her breasts and then rolling her nipples between her fingers. The pleasure shot straight to her clit and she groaned again.

“Can I taste you,” he asked, and she nodded.

“But I want to touch you too. Lie back.” She turned in the bed, straddling Peeta’s body so that his cock was perfectly positioned for her mouth. She heard him curse again, then felt him lower her into position over his face. He licked her slowly, sending another jolt of pleasure through her body. Pleasure she needed to share.

Her tongue stroked down his cock, from the tip all the way to the root near his balls. The strangled groan that fell from his lips vibrated through her. She palmed his balls in one hand and then slowly began to stroke him with the other.

Peeta’s ministrations grew more passionate. He sucked her clit into his mouth, working it furiously with his tongue.

Katniss licked her lips, then took him in, sliding her tongue around the head and then deep into her mouth. Another groan sounded from behind her and she took him deeper, moving her hand in concert with her mouth. His hips rose and fell, even as he pulled her ever deeper against his face, his sounds of pleasure causing hers to spiral ever higher.

She drew back, licking the head of his penis before plunging down upon him again. His mouth worked her furiously, whimpers of pleasure bursting from her, when suddenly she felt her orgasm overtake her. She bucked against his face as he held her in place, drinking her up. She sucked him desperately, opening her throat and with one last groan, he erupted, and she swallowed each drop as it slid down.

They lay silently for a few minutes, while their hearts raced, Peeta kissing her thigh periodically. When she could avoid it no longer, she climbed off him. When she turned around, she could tell he was as stunned as she.

“I guess I should go to bed,” he said softly.

She lay her hand on his chest. “No, stay with me.”

He smiled at her and held out his arms. She thought he whispered something into her hair as she snuggled down beside him.

Peeta sat up to pull the covers back over them. They each flicked off a light and before long she was once again wrapped up in his arms. They lay quietly in the dark as she listened to the comforting thud of his heartbeat just below her ear. She was just drifting off to sleep when she heard his voice again.

“I’d like to go with you tomorrow, if that’s okay.”

She desperately wanted to say yes, which made her think she should probably refuse. “It will be awful, Peeta. I don’t want to put you through that.”

“Tomorrow, your mother will be there for your father, and your sister will be there for both of them. You’ll be taking care of Prim. Someone should be there to comfort you, Katniss. And that should be your boyfriend.”

Her lips twitched upwards in the dark. “Is that what you are? My boyfriend?”

“If you’ll allow it.”

There was a brief silence before she answered. “I’ll allow it.”

“And tomorrow?”

“I’ll allow that too.”

#Everlark Fic Exchange #Springtime Edition 2017 #submission #burkygirl #roseymama #prompt 25

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everlark-interviews · 7 years

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Interview with Everhutcher!

It’s been a while, but we have more interviews lined up, and we’re ready to tackle 2017 and get you the inside scoop on all your favorites, plus some newbies coming into the fandom! Reblog, follow, and get connected with the lovely folks in the HG community. Read on for all the juicy deets about @everhutcher!

Describe yourself like your friends would describe you.

Silly, weird, funny, compassionate. Honest. Loyal. Raunchy. A ball-buster. Someone with zero personal space. Good with details.

Raunchy? That’s interesting… How so?

Oh wow. I’ve just never had a filter. I think it’s a family trait. I’m from a large, loud Eastern European family where everyone speaks their mind, sarcasm is the norm, etc. As far back as high school, my friend and I would read smutty romance novels (mostly Jude Deveraux’s books) out loud at the lunch table just to make our male friends cringe. Totally juvenile, I know. I suppose if I psychoanalyzed myself I might see it as a way to explore sexuality in a safe way or something. Because I’m not nearly so bold in my actions in that way. But even now, I’ll see a double entendre in anything and won’t hesitate to point it out. Cards Against Humanity gives me life. I blame the inner 10-year old boy in me who giggles at inappropriate times. My own 10-year old son is far better behaved than I am in that aspect.

LOL! At some point our inner teen makes a reappearance.

What Eastern European country is your family from? Have you been there?

We’re Ukrainian on both sides of the family. I’ve never been there but it has been fun to connect with cousins from over there through social media. Some of them grew up in the Soviet days, so when I was a kid, we never really had contact with them.

Give me an example of everhutcher as a ball-buster…

It’s sort of just who I am… again, the no filter thing. I will say I don’t ball-bust in a super-aggressive or antagonistic way, because I know that’s how some people interpret the term. My brand is more teasing. My husband is 14 years older than I am, so the old man jokes are abundant. I’m always telling him at the store to ask about the AARP discount or I’ll remind him that when he was 18, I was in preschool. Just often enough to creep him out.

How did you end up in THG fandom?

That was definitely not a straight line between two points. I knew of the books for a long time, but never read them. I’d also seen THG and CF on DVD at the time they came out, and was entertained enough, but didn’t love them in the way I loved other fandoms like HP or Star Wars.

Then my stepdaughter sort of made me read the books right before MJ1 came out in theaters. She promised I’d love them. And she was right. I loved them and then my love for the whole franchise grew from there.

I can relate to that! It definitely ‘snuck up’!

Have you written for other fandoms?

To be honest, nothing has grabbed me the way THG has, so no.

I get it! Same here.

I guess one exception is that I took part in a RPF Secret Santa thing for JHutch fans. I was really satisfied with how the story turned out but I’m not as comfortable writing about real people, so I have not been compelled to do that since. Kudos to those who can, though.

So what drew you into writing fic?

The ending of MJ just left me unsettled and unsatisfied.

And although I understand that in a way, it was likely written in the way Katniss would have genuinely told it (i.e., not dwelling on details), as a reader I wanted more. So, I went in search of some insight into Suzanne Collins’ choices as a writer. Instead, I stumbled across fan fiction. I started looking for some good “growing back together” fics. And my love for the entire genre was born. Eventually I felt brave enough to dive in and write some of my own because I couldn’t get enough of Everlark in just about any setting.

What was it like for you when you posted your first fic for all to see?

The same as it is now: I hit “post” or “send” and I squeal and do a panic dance in my home office. I feel like I’m jumping off a cliff or something.

You never know how it’s going to be received. You don’t want to look or sound stupid (the story or yourself). You might think it’s the best work you’ve done but it’s a load of shit. You just never know what will resonate with people and what won’t. I mean, ultimately you can’t worry about that during the writing process; you have to go with your gut and let the story take you where it wants to go. But you just have to hope people will see something in it that they can relate to as well.

It really never gets any easier, does it? What was a pivotal moment for you in the books?

Arghhhhhh. I think there are so many people who are so much better at noticing details of the book. So many moments. I don’t know if I can classify anything as “pivotal” but I do think some parts resonate with me more than others. The entire sequence of Peeta’s time with the Star Squad in Mockingjay was particularly important to me as a reader, as I think it lends a whole sense of hope, which is so central to the series. In particular, I think the moment Peeta realizes the lizard mutts are coming and he chooses to protect Katniss by yelling for her to run... that, to me, is it. He has already chosen Katniss over Snow in that moment.

Such a good one! What was the hardest moment for you in the series?

I would probably say Everlark’s separation at the end of Catching Fire. I’m such a sucker for those two. Throughout that book they’re connecting in a way they never had before. And unlike the film, Katniss and Peeta are both aware of the other’s presence somewhere around the lightning tree in those final moments in the arena. They can each hear the other calling out. They’re desperate to save one another, and are so close to achieving that. You know, as the reader, that it’s not going to end well for either of them. And, of course, it doesn’t.

What’s the moment you hold onto from the series? That ‘Yes! This is why I love this series’ moment…

That has to be Peeta’s return to 12. As I said earlier, you have these pivotal moments in Mockingjay where Peeta chooses Katniss, in defiance of his hijacking, sometimes without really even being conscious of it. I always wonder what happened to Peeta during his time in the Capitol after Katniss’s trial. Was it a deliberate decision to return to 12? Or was it just instinct driving him to where he felt he belonged? Either way, he returns to Katniss and his first thought is to help Katniss heal. To show Katniss some beauty in the world. He yet again creates a thing of beauty - a simple flowerbed to celebrate Prim’s life - and says “I thought we could plant them for her.” Not me, but we. Even though Katniss isn’t involved in his project, he includes her. They are a team. He is with her, in whatever way she needs. It’s unconditional and pure and lovely to see this reborn in him. Wounded but not broken.

I think you did a lovely job of picking out the details!

What do you enjoy writing most? (Trope, canon/AU, etc)

I think modern AU is probably what comes easiest to me. For one, it’s fun to imagine Peeta Mellark alive and well and walking amongst us in the modern world just waiting for love - and who doesn’t want that? LOL. I’m a fairly open book emotionally, more like Peeta, so writing Katniss is a fun challenge for me. And in modern AU, there’s the added challenge in presenting Katniss as someone who stays in character, still finds it hard to open up, without the details of her life in canon District 12 at play. You have to get into the psychology of a modern young woman and the things which might affect her life.

Where do you get your inspirations?

Oh, man. So many places. I suppose, now that I think about it, a lot of of my fics start with real-life events. Some are sad, like the circumstances of a friend of friend which inspired my PiP fic Promise. Others are often inspired by the random convos I have over chat or text with other bloggers. Like, Drill and Fill started with me complaining to another writer about having to go to the dentist but that thank goodness, at least my dentist was cute, and the rest unfolded from there. I also love that there are so many prompt ideas out there, whether on Tumblr or elsewhere. I’m so grateful that someone might not feel comfortable enough writing a fic on their own, but still has a great idea they want to share with others to make the story a reality.

That’s a really great observation. Give me an idea of yours that you will never write, but you would love to read.

Oooooh. That’s so tough because I think, never say never. If it’s something I’d want to read, and it doesn’t already exist, then I generally wouldn’t hesitate to at least attempt to make it a reality myself. That’s why I started writing fic, not just consuming it. I had ideas that I wanted to share. So I’d have to dig deeper to find something I’d read but not also write.

What has been your favorite fic to write?

No fair! My fics are my kids! I love them all for different reasons LOL.

If two of your fics were drowning… see where I’m going with this?

Well, if I have to choose, I’d probably say Under His Wings. I wasn’t sure where I was headed with it at all. Usually I have a strong idea to jump start the process, and my struggle is to keep the momentum of the story going later on. In this case, I had a hard time starting this story, and it picked up steam as I went along. It sort of took on a life of its own very quickly. I think it’s probably my most moving story.

What is the most challenging fic you’ve written?

I tend to write very quickly once an idea hits me, so anytime I end up with a WIP it’s because the mojo isn’t there. I’m currently on the third version of a story that I haven’t published yet. It’s supposed to be part of @papofglencoe’s clearance condom series, which she started after I took a trip to Target while chatting online with her. Her Pumpkin Spice story was such a treat, and I really want to do something fun and sexy with all that inspiration. But if I force it, I know it won’t be as good as it might have been. So WIP it remains.

If you were stranded on a desert island with any THG character, who would you pick? Just one, now!

Peeta. Hands down. Or wherever the hands want to go. See what I mean about raunchy?

HA! Down is a start in the right direction, though, yeah?

We all have that fic that’s our go to - whether it’s our own or someone else’s - that we return to because we love it and know exactly what we’re going to get. What’s yours?

If we’re talking Everlark fic, I’d probably say The Bucket List by Meadowlark27.

Why?

Faith constructed such a beautiful and heart-wrenching story that made me cry several times. If Everlark fans haven’t read it yet, it has it all. Humor and angst and sorrow and friends to lovers, all my favorite elements. And the ending. Ughhhhhh. All the feels, for sure.

What’s your writing process? Some people like to write their stories all at once, then post weekly, while others like to take it one chapter at a time, where posting is more random. Where do you fall in that spectrum?

I’d like to have the discipline to be the former, but I’m definitely the latter. Once I finish a chapter I want people to see it right away. In theory I always think it’s going to force me to work more steadily, because then I can tell myself that people have read it and want more. In reality, life always seems to fill up my time. The older I get, the more of a procrastinator I seem to become.

I get it. Why is that??

Favorite Book? (non THG)

Probably the Lord of the Rings trilogy.

I first read it in sixth grade, not understanding the historical context in which Tolkien crafted it. At the time I just knew it as a cool good versus evil kind of story. Now I have a much deeper understanding of the historical context, and as a history teacher it speaks to me on that level, for sure. Beyond that, the immense time and energy and effort Tolkien put into creating that universe is just astonishing. The man crafted an entire mythology that the world has embraced as readily as anything mythology of ancient times.

It is incredible. I completely agree, and I love the series!

What do you like to do in your spare time?

I have to think about what spare time is these days lol. I suppose beyond work and family (my husband, son, two stepkids, daughter-in-law and any day now, a stepgrandbaby!)

Congratulations!

My fandom activities have filled most of my free time. Otherwise, I definitely have a love for genealogy. I’ll go through spurts where I’ll spend hours a day scouring records to add to our family tree. And I enjoy traveling. I wish I had more resources for that, but I try to get out of town every couple of months, even for just a night or two. Living in the Northeast helps, being so close to so much. I’m basically halfway between NYC and Toronto; I have a ton of family and connections in Philly so I’m always there, too. I just spent my birthday in Vegas and I really want to get back out to L.A. soon. Been an East Coast girl my whole life but I love California.

Favorite thing about Tumblr?

The friendships. They’ve gone so far beyond fandom it’s sort of astonishing. The ladies I connect with the most are just about the most open, take-me-as-I-am group of people I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. I have my group of girlfriends here in “real” life, particularly my friends from work. But my blogger friends are a constant presence as well. Maybe even more so, because you can always shoot off a text or a group chat throughout the day, come back and find someone three time zones away has weighed in on whatever was on your mind. We throw story ideas at each other, talk about our jobs and kids, nothing is off limits. And when you know most of you write Everlark smut you can’t really hide anything after that lol. They’ve become some of the best friends I’ve ever had.

Can you give some advice to new writers?

Just don’t be afraid to jump in and try something. Challenge yourself. There is a vast community of writers out there with a huge array of talents and strengths and styles. If you are worried about how your work compares to someone else’s, and allow it to make you hesitate to write, you’re bound to hold yourself back due to fear of failure. The only failure is to not let you idea come to life in one way or another. Put it out there and share it. Audiences are always going to be better off for it.

Thank you for taking time to talk to me!

You can find Everhutcher’s stories on AO3. Don’t forget to leave a comment! And stop by her ask box to say hey!

#everlark-interviews #everhutcher #peetabreadgirl #xerxia31 #burkygirl

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