#(who the fuck is buying those cakes from Peeta's bakery

[cheeseanonioncrisps]

I unironically love the character names in the Hunger Games series.

Haymitch, Peeta, Hazelle, Leevy, Maysilee, Finnick and Greasy Sae look bizarre when you first see them written down, but then if you think about how they look and/or sound it's pretty clear that they're meant to be modern names, only modern names that have changed spelling and pronounciation over time— as you would have expected them to have done so over how ever many hundreds of years it's been since our modern day.

(Remember, though The Hunger Games themselves have only been going on for 75 years, the universe they're in is canonically post-apocalyptic— the reason nobody ever mentions what's happening in the rest of the world is that everywhere except America was destroyed in a nuclear war. We're not given much of an indication how long it's been since then.)

Peeta is Peter, Haymitch is Hamish, and Hazelle is Hazel, Maysilee is Maisie— the changes in pronunciation are slight (Peeta and Peter are already virtually identical in my accent), and the spelling has changed to match.

Leevy is either a corruption of Lily, or more likely I suspect 'Livvy', a common nickname for Olivia; Finnick is probably from Finnegan (shorten in to 'Finneg' and then say it over and over very fast); Sae could be short for Sarah, or Sally or even Susan— it's not uncommon for nicknames to become real names in their own right (look at Harry or Molly as examples).

I also love the trend of having District 1 parents give their kids names relating to the luxury items their district produces— Glimmer, Marvel, Gloss, Cashmere, Velvereen (presumably a corruption of 'velveteen'), Facet— because those things are all a) objectively pretty/nice (like naming a kid 'Diamond' or 'Star' today) and presumably status symbols in their district.

Meanwhile District 3 does the same thing, but all the pronunciations are corrupted. You've got technical names to do with the manufacture of electronics— Wiress (wireless), Circ (circuit)— but you've also got what I'm pretty sure are meant to be corruptions of modern brand names— Beetee (BT), Teslee (Tesla).

To me this kind of suggests that District 3 is less conscious of this influence than District 1. Like, parents in 1 are more likely to deliberately think "I'll name my kid Glimmer, because things that glimmer are pretty" whereas 3 as a culture might have genuinely forgotten that those names used to mean something, in the same way that most of us don't think much about how the name 'Arthur' comes from the old word for 'Bear'.

And of course, then you've got the Capitol leaning hard into those ancient Roman vibes with names like Fulvia, Plutarch, Seneca, Tigris… but still using the European/American personal name+family name format, which the Romans didn't really do. Like it's very clear that this is a future society fetishising the classical era, rather than an actual resurgence of Roman culture.

It's just such a cool world-building detail. So many dystopian novels just go for modern names (and there's nothing wrong with that, especially if you're only looking a couple of hundred years into the future) but thinking about how names might have evolved over the centuries and the different naming traditions that might have developed in different areas really adds a whole new dimension to the culture of Panem.

#there are some definite problems with Hunger Games worldbuilding #(who the fuck is buying those cakes from Peeta's bakery? #90% of the population of District 12 are apparently starving #but they can still support a birthday cake industry???) #but this one specific thing is done really well #hunger games #suzanne collins #btw if you've read the trilogy and don't recognise some of the names in here #it's because i'm also using ones from Songbirds and Snakes #hunger games meta

[seasonsofeverlark]

Pumpkin Pie and Cheese Buns

Author: @evestedic​

Prompt: Hard working coming home for thanksgiving. Stops at the store on the way to pick up the dessert she didn’t bother to make no one will notice anyway and runs into their ex lover. Tries to leave fast but has to take the walk of shame back to grab the cranberries too. Arrives home not just with the cranberries and pie…  [submitted by anonymous]

Rating: T

____________

“God damn it!” Katniss was not happy. 

It was Thanksgiving, which meant she was being forced to spend time with people she didn’t even know.

Why?

Because they’re family, Katniss.

She could hear her Aunt Martha’s voice. 

Why should she care that her cousin was getting married?

Or that her nephew had gotten into college? 

Or that her godfather was slipping her a 20 buck bill while winking an eye at her? 

She wasn’t a total bitch, so she bore with it, but this was people she saw one fucking time per year! 

If it wasn’t for Thanksgiving, she was sure she wouldn’t see them again as they never even called. Nor did she.

But, be that as it may, Prim loved big gatherings and the attention; she was, after all, quite cheerful. Her father also bore with it, although better than her. 

However, who knew? This year her mother was coming with her new boyfriend. 

Ugh, puke… 

And that was why she was there, November the 26th, coming back from work and on her way to Aunt’s Martha’s house. 

Katniss was not happy. 

She had already left the store not five minutes ago, but something kept nagging at the back of her head while she accommodated the bags in the back of her car. 

Of course, being who she was, she had forgotten dessert. The pumpkin pie with maple whipped cream. Sighing and fuming, she went back to the absolute chaos of the aisles. If she arrived at her aunt’s without dessert…well, she would rather face a biblical plague. 

After perusing the dessert stand and seeing everything was completely wiped out‒not even crumbs were left‒she gave up and thought about getting some canned peaches and cherries.  That’s when she heard it…   

“Is that you, Katniss?” 

That voice. 

She had loved it at one point. Now, it was just nails on a chalkboard. 

Turning around, she set her eyes on a huge blonde guy; he had a perfect gym advertisement body, a smirk on his face, and his arm around a blonde girl with the same perfect gym advertisement body. 

“Cato.” 

“Buying for Thanksgiving?”

“No, just came because I was craving some peaches.” 

“Oh.”

Seriously? It was the most direct sarcastic answer ever, and he had actually believed her? 

Katniss rolled her eyes and was about to turn around when the Barbie clone spoke. 

“Is this the one, babe?”

“Yes, baby, that’s her.”

“Oh, I thought she’d be…I don’t know, prettier?”

“She never wanted to put in the effort, baby.”

“She is standing right here. And if working out turns you dumb, I’m glad I didn’t do it.” 

Katniss had gone out with Cato for two years when they were nineteen. Back then, he had been a kind guy, funny and perhaps a bit silly, but very nice, normal. He had asked her out after a college party, and she accepted; the rest was history. 

However, after one year of being together, he began frequenting the campus gym and suddenly started to change. All he could talk about were diets, exercise, and protein. Katniss was all in for a healthier life; hell, she knew if she kept on eating Greasy Sae’s food every other night, she was going to clog her arteries by the time she was 35, but Cato was relentless. He got rid of all of her comfort food and she had been forbidden to eat chicken and meat ever again. Only turkey and fish were allowed, vegetables, no dairy or eggs, no sugar! She was going crazy; Katniss had reached the obscene point of hiding in the bathroom to eat a Snickers bar, only to quickly brush her teeth and rinse with Listerine at least thrice so that her boyfriend wouldn’t taste any trace of chocolate when he kissed her. It was that night when she knew she couldn’t do it anymore. She no longer recognized the guy she had agreed to date or herself, for that matter. So, Katniss decided to end it right then and there. She skipped her next class and went to their dorm only to find him banging the very same Barbie girl who was in front of her in the canned aisle right now. 

Quickest breakup ever. 

He had said it was her fault for not ‘putting in the effort,’ and she hated him for it. 

“Jealousy doesn’t fit you, Katniss. Well,” Cato gave her a once-over, “I doubt anything does. Have you gained weight?” 

“If I have, that wouldn’t be any of your fucking business. What are you doing here? Came to buy something for dinner? I think there’s a celery and mineral water pack on sale.” 

“Still salty because I chose someone better?” Cato shamelessly licked the girl’s ear, making her giggle in an obnoxious way that made Katniss want to gag. 

She didn’t have to stand here and watch this; she-

Was that a hand on her waist?

“Hey, sorry I took so long. I literally had to wrestle this from an old lady.” 

That voice. 

Peeta Mellark was holding onto her waist and smiling that charming smile that could probably tame a wild animal, while proudly presenting a ham to her.

“Um…” Eloquent as always. 

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you were with friends.” 

“Yeah, no…Not my friends.” 

“Aren’t you the baker guy? You’re slumming it with the bakery employee?” Cato laughed while Barbie‒Katniss really couldn’t care less about her actual name‒looked at Peeta appreciatively. 

“I haven’t introduced myself,” Peeta said, extending his right hand but not letting Katniss’ waist go. Cato immediately took it, flexing his bicep as he did so, but his expression faltered when he shook Peeta’s hand. “Peeta Mellark, owner of ‘The Cake Lair’. Have you guys ever been?” 

Katniss was confused. 

It wasn’t as if she and Peeta were actually friends. They had talked, yes. She simply loved the pastries he sold, and because of how she had raved about his cheese buns, well…the double entendre put her in an uncomfortable position, but he had only laughed and thanked her for the compliment, as he had, in fact, baked those himself. 

Peeta always made sure to set aside at least two cheese buns for her prior to the end of the day. 

And okay, yeah, they had exchanged numbers and texted from time to time, but nothing deep. It was always things about the weather, the cheese buns, or how Prim was. Did that qualify as being friends? 

Katniss was awful at being a good friend, hence why she only had two: Gale and Madge. Her sister and father didn’t count; they were family. 

Shaking her head, she returned to the present to find that arm still around her and Cato’s face getting red. 

“Just let go, dude.  You’re about to pop a vein.” Peeta chuckled. 

Katniss directed her gaze at their hands; she could see they were both squeezing the hell out of each other. Cato probably thought he could scare Peeta off with his muscles, but he clearly hadn’t seen Peeta shirtless on a hot day, hauling 100-pound flour sacks onto his back as if they were light cargo. Peeta was strong, like ‘I could iron clothes on your stomach’ fit; he just didn’t flaunt it, and Katniss appreciated that.

Cato huffed and let go, and Peeta smiled once more and winked at Barbie, who was giggling like an idiot. 

“So, we should be going soon if we want to make it, Katniss. You know how Aunt Martha gets if we don’t get the groceries in time for her.” 

So yeah, she had told him about her hellish weekend to come last week, but Katniss didn’t think he would remember. 

With his hand still on her waist and her still not shrugging it off, they made to pass Cato and his doll, but, of course, the bodybuilder felt the need to use the sole neuron in his brain. 

“You know you’re just a replacement, right? I mean, she went and looked for the next guy that kinda looked like me because she clearly can’t forget me.” 

Tuck your thumb over your middle finger to make a proper fist. If you wrap your fingers around your thumb, you’re likely going to break it. 

Her father’s words and the boxing lessons came back in a flash, and before Peeta could hold her back, Katniss pivoted on her left foot, momentum aiding her, and connected her first with Cato’s jaw. She wasn’t an expert boxer or anything of the sort; she just liked the exercise, and she was strong. But Katniss must have been lucky enough to hit the sweet spot because Cato dropped to the aisle floor, unconscious. 

“Babe!” Barbie girl screeched, and suddenly, two more gorilla-looking guys were coming to her aid. 

Friends of his, no doubt. 

“Tell your boy toy, next time he wants to bully me to think twice, lest he finds himself beaten up again by a woman,” Katniss spat at the blonde girl. 

“You did this?” A broad and tall black guy asked. He was actually pretty scary, but Katniss held her ground and managed to nod. To her surprise, he chuckled and sort of bowed to her. “He’s an ass. I bet he had it coming. We’ll take care of him.” 

“Thresh! He’s your friend…” Barbie girl actually had tears in her eyes. 

“He’s not. We’re just in the same weightlifting class. And don’t cry; he’ll come to soon. Finnick, help me bring this idiot back.” 

“You must have a mean right hook, hon,” the guy with reddish hair and perfect teeth told Katniss. 

“I do.” She jutted out her chin proudly; her dad had taught her well. 

“Nice to know you have it all sorted out. Katniss, should we go?” Peeta was pulling her a bit, and she let him, both soon finding themselves out in the parking lot, having decided to leave behind the cans and the ham. 

Once they were in front of her car, Katniss did something she rarely did. 

“I’m sorry I cost you your ham.” 

Peeta seemed surprised, but he simply smiled. “That’s okay. There are a lot of hams left, actually; I just needed an excuse to walk up to you.” 

“Why did you do that?” 

“That guy was an ass, and I know you could’ve handled it on your own, but…,” he leaned in a bit and whispered, “doesn’t it feel good to let him know you’re with someone much better now?” 

Katniss couldn’t help it, she laughed. “You’re full of yourself, Mellark!” 

“Hey! I’m a catch, I tell you. Owner of his own bakery, hard-working; I know how to cook and bake, and I’m easy on the eyes, too.” 

“Not to mention, tons and tons of humility.” 

“That, too.” He smiled, and Katniss rolled her eyes, but she really didn’t feel angry with him. She hadn’t needed his help, but he had offered it freely without expecting anything in return. “So, I guess this is where we part ways.” 

“What are your plans for tonight, Peeta?” Katniss suddenly asked, and he was surprised as well. 

“Uhhhh, not much. Bake something? Eat it while watching TV, nothing exciting.” 

“You can come to my Aunt Martha’s, if you want. Prim would love to see you, and this way I can repay your ‘act of kindness’.” 

“Really? You sure it wouldn’t bother you?” 

“If it did, I wouldn’t have asked.” 

“Sure, I’d love to.” 

“Okay, but before that, there’s something I need you to do for me.” 

“What is it?” 

“Can you drive? My right hand is killing me.” 

                                                °•. ✿ .•°

“Why couldn’t you just buy it?” Katniss whined.

“Because I actually enjoy baking. You should know this already.” Peeta chuckled as he handled the mixer. After a few more turns, it seemed everything was ready. “I just need to flour the containers now.” Peeta patted his hands on his apron and went back to the pantry. 

Katniss took her chance. 

She slowly inched her hand forward, her eyes not leaving Peeta’s back, just in case. 

Two more inches and-

“I swear, Katniss, if you’re reaching for that dough I won’t make any cheese buns for a week.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” she exclaimed, shocked. That wasn’t fair! Peeta hadn’t even turned around, but he knew what she had been about to do. 

“Try me, love.” He then approached the table again, watching a grumbling Katniss cross her arms. “You know you can’t have raw dough while pregnant.”

“That’s a stupid rule. I bet it’s invented. How did women manage centuries ago, then?” 

“Oh, I don’t know. They sometimes died intoxicated, so no biggie.” Peeta was serious now. 

“I wouldn’t die over a bit of dough…” She said it under her breath, but he heard.

Peeta sighed, and Katniss felt a pang of regret. Damn him. “Katniss, do we really have to discuss this again? It’s Thanksgiving, and I’d bet my bank account Aunt Martha would come down here and force you to go to the party if you weren’t so-” 

“Go on, finish what you were going to say.” Katniss knew she was so big she might be in need of her own postal code. 

“-tired. You’re carrying twins, and that’s not an easy feat. The only thing she asked for was the pumpkin pie with maple whipped cream.”

“Every fucking year.” 

“She indulges during the holiday.”

“Why not just get one from the bakery?”

“She wants it fresh.” 

“Why doesn’t she come down here and get it herself?”

“You really want your Aunt Martha here? Right now? Today?”

“…No.” Why did Peeta have to be so logical? 

“I know you’re crabby and your feet are probably swelling. Let me put this in the oven, and then I’ll massage them with some of that lavender cream your mother gave you.” 

“And a bath.”

“A massage and a bath, you got it.” 

Peeta, of course, fulfilled his promise and left Katniss so relaxed she fell asleep and didn’t even notice her husband had gone and come back from the Everdeen’s annual Thanksgiving gathering. 

By the time she opened her eyes, he was sitting next to her, reading a book. 

“Hey…did you all get a proper rest?” Peeta put a hand on her belly, smiling. 

“I think so, yeah; they just started moving.” 

“I can feel. Here, let me help you up.” Peeta’s strength was no joke. He could single-handedly lift her up, yes, even when she felt like a whale, and prop her on the bed so she could sit comfortably. “That okay?” 

“Yes, perfect.” 

“Happy anniversary, love.” He presented her with a huge cheese bun, making her laugh.

“Peeta, just because we fucked for the first time four years ago today, doesn’t mean it’s an anniversary.”

“For me it is! Come on, I bet you didn’t think we’d end up doing it in the bathroom that night.” 

“I seriously didn’t.”

“But here we are, and that’s all that matters.” 

Her husband really was the cheesiest person alive, but she secretly adored that part of him. 

“Shut up and let me enjoy my cheese bun.”

“Your wish is my command.” 

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #autumn #autumn 2020 #evestedic #submission #prompt

[thehopefuldandelion]

Not Him

part 3

part 1 and 2 and 3 on ao3. part 1 and 2 and 3 on ff.net.

thanks to all who have supported me on this journey!

*sends kisses and hugs*

also I'm sorry this has taken me weeks. life has been hectic.

***

Peeta

My god. Holy frickin cow. Katniss kissed me. Well, my cheek but still! The burning sensation from her soft kiss is still present. She may have run from me but at least I have a chance with her, the most beautiful goddess there is. I sound like a fuckin’ love sick teenager. 

That fateful day that the stars aligned and she interviewed, I knew the universe was sending me a message. I’ve known Katniss since forever. Those putrid yellow swings’ memory still burns a hole in the back of my mind. The little girl with the red checkered dress and two braids moving with the wind, she was absolutely breathtaking, and, well, she still is. I may have been 5, but hey, the heart wants what it wants.

Graduation, class of 2009. It was sunset, the most vivid sunset I think I’ve ever seen. The sky was painted with indigo, orange, and rose colored pink. Katniss Everdeen, the star of my wet dreams, became more than I ever thought a person could. She not only stole my heart but gained a new title, the girl on fire. The subtle reds and vibrant oranges mixed behind her while she gave her eloquent valedictorian speech. My heart only had room for her and I could barely breath she was just that alluringly, gorgeous. I thought of her as my Katniss even though every interaction with her ended with insults. She loathed me and I wasn't sure why. I’m still confused as to what changed.

I watch her long, wavy raven hair flutter behind her as she runs to her car. I bring my fingers up to touch my cheek, savoring the memory of her soft lips. 

Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.

***

Katniss

As I drive home, I begin to question my barely there sanity. I-why did I kiss him? Not only is he my boss but I hated him. No, hate not hated. What’s wrong with me? I feel as if everything in my life is changing so fast I can’t see the path in front of me like a car on a foggy morning. My lungs fill with air that can’t seem to release and before I know it, I’m hyperventilating. Blindly, I shove the key in my apartment door, unlock, lock, and sink to my knees with my back against the door. 

I can’t explain these rampant feelings that are blindsiding me. Do I actually like Peeta Mellark? He does cause butterflies to erupt in my stomach and warmth to flow throughout my body when he walks in a room. Our past 2 “dates” awakened my soul more than it has been in years. He was flustered and shy after I kissed his cheek. What could that mean. Does he like me? Wait, he hated it didn't he. God, I’m such a dickhead and I don’t even have one.

As the days pass into weeks and weeks into months, I do my best to avoid Peeta at all costs. He seems to be doing the same which is fine with me. I still have erotic thoughts and memories of that fateful night at the movies but as times moves on, it pushes to the back of my mind. He and I aren’t a thing. Right?

It was Christmas time in Panem. Rosy cheeks and runny noses with melodious laughter fill every coffee shop, street, and home in this little town. Snow banks pile up on the edges of roads. I decided to come home for my Christmas vacation, not that there is really a home to come back for. While the neighbors would hang boughs of holly and red ribboned wreaths with colorful lights, my house was bland. It wasn’t always like this. When my father was alive, there never was a dreary day. Of course that all changed when he passed and my mom became a recluse. She moved away shortly after, but I couldn’t bring myself to sell the house. Memories of sweet hot cocoa and Eskimo kisses flood into my mind. A slice of my heart died with my father.

Shaking those troubled thoughts away, I climb the steps of the rickety wood porch and open the front door. Because I never visit, it has fallen apart, literally. Oh, father I’m so sorry. Roughly all the window panes are broken and rat droppings are scattered around. The kitchen faucet is loose and dust clouds.= every surface. I have my work cut out for me.

I spot some firewood outside and lay it in the hearth, lighting a match and setting the wood ablaze. Warmth. Love. Home. I missed this. The smell of wilderness and smoke waft into nose. I curl up and fall into a deep sleep, rat droppings and all.

Tap. Tap. Tap. I awake to a sharp knock at the door. Peeta? What is he doing here all handsome and muscular. My god, his arms. I want to lick the sweat that glistens on his forehead. 

“Peeta? What are you doing here?” I ask confused and slightly drowsy from sleep.

“Katniss,” Peeta says breathlessly. “I-I can’t keep doing this. Why did you stop speaking to me?”

Taken back by his words, I hesitate before saying, “I thought you hated the kiss, I mean, me.” 

“Hate you, no, never Katniss. I love you, completely and incandescently,” he says while stepping into the house and brushing a strand of hair behind my ear.

He...loves me? Me? How was I so stupid. Without thinking, I gently press my lips against his. He is hesitant at first but adds pressure to my lips, lightly kissing back. He then wraps his arms around my waist, as I bite his lip, sucking it to relieve pain. He tentatively tangles his tongue with mine causing a moan to bubble up in my throat. We break for air, the tension sizzling between us. His baby blue eyes are darker and filled with lust.

I forcefully latch my lips on his and he pushes me against the now closed door. Through our bruising, loving, tender kisses, I feel an underlying urge for more. To initiate this, I jump into his arms with my legs wrapping around his waist. I hear a “Fuck Katniss” and I groan loudly. 

‘Do’. Kiss. ‘You’. Kiss. ‘Know’. Kiss. ‘How’. Kiss. ‘Long’. Kiss. ‘I’ve’. Kiss. ‘Wanted this,’ Peeta says shakily. He makes his way to the stairs and I point him in the direction of my bedroom. He grins and gently lowers me to the bed. He gently unbuttons my shirt while I push down his jeans.

“Peeta,” I moan excited for what’s about to happen. I can’t believe-

Bang. I sit up looking around me. My hair sticks to my forehead as my whole body is drenched in sweat. Shit. The handle of the sink in the kitchen fell off. The fire is nothing but embers and ashes at this point with the sun streaming though a crack in the curtains. Disorientedly, I walk to my bag and pull out a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. I am in definite need of a shower. 

I decide to go into town once I’ve showered and changed. A quick glance outside of the kitchen window shows evidence of powdery snow dusting every surface. It’s a winter wonderland, literally. I wonder what Peeta would think of this. He always had an eye for beauty. Thoughts of him brings me back to my dream. It was so realistic and I-I wish it could be real. What am I thinking? Even though it's not exactly right, I don’t regret any of these thoughts. 

***

As I walk around the narrow brick streets, stopping briefly in each store, my stomach lightly grumbles. In the distance, a bakery can be seen. Warm light spills out the clear windows, illuminating the snow in gold. My fingers itch to open the heavy, wood door and feel the heat tingle my cheeks and toes. The aroma of freshly baked pastries and bread waft into my nose, leading me to the door. 

The wooden floor is worn but homely and the countertops have just been cleaned. Surprisingly, the cozy bakery is empty, not a soul can be seen. Eh, their loss. More pastries for me.

I bend down to look at all the mouth watering cookies, mini cakes, and breads. and spot something that I remember from my childhood. When I was younger, my dad would take me to the bakery every Sunday after hunting. He would buy a cheese bun and spilt half of it with me. The curly haired baker’s son would walk from the back with a fresh bun and hand it to me with a shy grin on his face. That all stopped when my father passed and I never saw the baker or his kind son ever again.

A man’s voice shakes me out of that memory.

“Would you like to buy something, miss?”

I stand up slowly and look the man on the eye and say, “Yes, definitely.”

The man is an older gentleman with crinkles around his bright blue eyes when he smiles. His hair is golden with gray mixed in. He is also tall with broad shoulders, he seems like an older version of Peeta almost.

“Can I get 1 cheese bun please?” I ask politely to the man.

“Yes of course, Katniss,”he responds.

“What-wh-how do you know my name?” I reply in a shocked tone.

“Why Katniss, it's me. Peeta’s father.”

“Oh my gosh. Mr. Mellark? It’s been years.”

“Yes indeed it has. I sold this bakery about a decade ago and moved closer to the city to be near Peeta. He helped me open a bakery there, which he owns now, and it is very successful,” he says with pride in his voice. “I moved back to Panem about a year ago and bought this bakery back and it has been my love ever since.”

I nod at this and realize that Peeta works for a huge corporation he started up and owns a bakery. What else can he do?

Mr. Mellark walks to the back, I’m guessing to pick up a fresh cheese bun, and discusses something with someone. I’m slightly craning my ears to hear what is being said when the last person I expected to be here walks out.

Peeta.

Fucking.

Mellark.

“K-Katniss. What are you doing here,” he says, slightly flustered.

My cheeks blush as I remember my erotic dream of last night. Peeta’s hair is unruly as if it has been brushed through by his hands one too many times. He is wearing a tight fitting white shirt with a similarly colored apron around his muscular waist. A bit of flour lines his upper cheek and icing trails down his shirt. He is hot.

“Uh, I decided to come home for Christmas. What about you?”

How ironic is it that the girl who always had something rude to spat out at Peeta, can barely make a comprehensible sentence. 

“Same. So, um, here is your cheese bun,” Peeta replies while handing me the gooey and delicious pastry with a crooked grin.

Oh my God.

Peeta is that boy. The boy with the bread. My boy with the bread.

“Th-tha-thank you,” I stutter out.

I quickly turn on my heel and find a table to eat at. The daisies and flickering candles create a sweet ambiance that distracts me from the weather outside. Speaking of which, the snow is heavily falling, to the point where you can’t see your own hand in front of your face. On top of that, it's dark, the sunset having already set, and I realize that getting home will not be easy.

Shit.

The cheese bun, which was delicious, is gone in a flash and I start towards the door. I push with all my might but realize it won’t open because of the packed snow in front of it. Dang it.

“Katniss, do you need help?” Peeta asks, watching my struggle.

“No, I don’t need help,” I grumble. I then turn back around, back facing Peeta, and push some more.

After a couple more attempts and badly held in giggles from Peeta, I give up and resignedly walk back to the table I had preciously occupied. Damn him.

I come to the conclusion that I will not be leaving this bakery until at least morning. Might as well get prepared for a long night.

Peeta comes towards the table and says, “Seeing as the snow won’t let up any time soon, I guess we are stuck here.” No duh.

I shrug my shoulders nonchalantly at this and lay my head on my arms.

“Well, the table can’t be comfortable, Katniss.”

“It’s fine, Peeta. Perfectly okay,” I mumble to him in my sweater. 

“I-I have a loft above the bakery with a bed and bathroom if you want to use it. I don’t mind, honestly,” he rubs the back of his neck while blushing causing me to fluster. Why am I so weird around this man?

“Uh-well, if y-you don’t mind,” I respond while standing up and gathering my stuff.

“Follow me.”

Peeta leads me through what seems a maze of a kitchen in the back and farther into the building until we reach a flight of stairs. 

“Ladies first,” he tells me.

I blush, again, and walk quickly up the stairs. At the top, is a large oak door which I can only guess was from a large tree that soars into the air. Peeta steps around me and unlocks the door, cracking it open. I cautiously peer at him and he nods his head in a manner of telling me to enter.

Whoa. That is my first reaction to the professional kitchen with metal countertops and floor to ceiling window on the south wall. In one corner is a mini office, complete with a desk and chair with stacks of paper, bills I'm guessing, laid on top. The opposite side of the loft holds a worn, blue couch and small tv. Outdoor lights brighten the place and can be found hanging from almost every high surface. The bathroom is directly across from the front door and the spacious bedroom is next to it. Who new a loft could have this much character with its brick walls and worn orange wood floors.

“My father has a house about a mile from here and we rent this place out when I’m not home. It helps during slow times at the bakery and I don’t get down here much so its rented almost all year round. This is home for me, I guess.” Peeta says timidly.

“I’m speechless. This loft is beautiful,” I say in awe.

I drop my belongings and follow Peeta as he gives me a quick tour. 

“Thank you for this, truly,” I address him.

“Of course, Katniss. I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he smiles back at me.

“Could I use a toothbrush and tooth paste by chance?”

“Yes, I will go get them for you,” Peeta says as he walks to a small hall closet. “I also have some sweats and a t-shirt you can borrow if you would be more comfortable.”

“U-uh yes. Thank you,” I say quickly, stumbling on my words. To be honest, I hadn’t even thought about changing but Peeta offered so I couldn't refuse.

He returns with clothes and basic toiletries for me to use tonight and I take them and smile shyly.

“I’ll be back.”

He nods his head and walks over to the kitchen, I presume to bake. 

Closing the bathroom door softly, I realize the awkward predicament I am currently stuck in. What does it mean that I’m wearing my boss’ clothes? I wore his shirt before. This isn't that different. What about sleeping arrangements? Surely, he will want to sleep in his bed and I’ll take the couch. Yes, right, that’s perfect.

The shirt’s scent was, well, Peeta. Dill and cinnamon with a hint of detergent wafting to my nose. It was a couple sizes too big and hung off my shoulders. The sweatpants were a different matter altogether. They too, slipped off my body, causing me to tighten the strings. It will have to do. I kinda loved being in his clothes, Peeta’s scent radiating around me and his warmth enveloping me.

Tonight is going to be a long night.

***

Peeta

As soon as I saw Katniss sitting quietly at the wooden table, munching on a cheese bun that I made, I knew I had to talk to her. Through her struggles to open the door and my giggling which wasn't hidden well, I couldn't be more in love with her. I never thought for a second that she would say yes to my proposal of coming upstairs and spending the night. The tinted blush on her cheeks is so adorable causing me to think of things I shouldn't.

I offered her my clothes and didn't even think of how irresistible she might look with them on. Well, shit.

I decided to cook Chicken Alfredo, seeing as she only ate a meager cheese bun and must be starving.

“Thank you again, Peeta,” I turn as I hear her say this, “for the clothes and letting me stay tonight and uh everything else,” she smiles.

God, I love that smile. It’s directed at me too. Can this day get any better?

That’s when I notice my oversized clothes on her slender body. The sight will never fade from my memory. She is sexy and breathtaking. I feel a sense of ownership because she is wearing my clothes. My Katniss. I feel a playful growl wander its way up into my throat and I quickly swallow it down. No need to scare her off, Peeta. Don’t be stupid.

“Y-yeah of course. I don’t mind one bit.”

She hops on the counter next to the stove as if it is an everyday occurrence. “Whatcha cooking? It smells divine,” she asks while her stomach rumbles.

I let out a snort, “Hungry are we?”

“Duh, I may be small but I will never pass up food.”

“Chicken Alfredo. I hope you enjoy it,” I respond. Then, I reach for the wooden spoon and dip it into the soft noodles wrapping them around it. I swerve it towards her mouth, a risky move, I know, and see a look of surprise spread across her elegant face. She opens her mouth slowly and sucks off every noodle playfully causing a twitch in my pants and a hunger in my stomach to form.

Katniss leans her head back and moans in delight from its taste.

“Peeta, this is delicious. Can you cook for me everyday?” she remarks with a glint in her eye.

“You wish,” laughter erupts from deep in my belly. I meant it, though. I would, Katniss, I would cook for you forever if I could. If only she knew.

Later, after dinner has been devoured and dishes are being washed, I hear a slight humming noise. It sounds like a distant memory embedded in my mind. That song, I know it. Katniss is washing dishes and I bump my shoulder against hers.

“That song. I’ve heard it before. What is it?”

“The Valley Song,” she turns the water off and gazes at me softly. Before I can respond she asks a follow up question. “Why did you push me off those yellow swings when we were younger?”

I racked my brain for the situation she was indicating. Oh, that day.

“Long story short, I have-had a slight crush on you and may have been trying to show off with my super strength.” At this, I lift my arms in a front double bicep position, showing off my “strength”. I kiss each bicep and hear a giggle slip out of Katniss. I turn my head and give her an inquisitive look. Neither of us can hold a straight face causing laughter to erupt between us like a volcano.

When she finally can breathe after laughing so terribly much, she responds, “I guess that makes sense, body builder.”

“Yeah right, if only.”

Instead of laughing, she peers at me silently, with an unreadable look on her face.

Later into the night on the couch with almost one season of Ozark under our belts and the popcorn bucket empty, I realize Katniss has dozed off on my shoulder. Her forehead isn't creased like it usually is during the day and that scowl that I have come to love has seamlessly disappeared. A tiny flicker of hope floods my senses. Many nights of Katniss curled up against me, me tucking her in our bed with a peck to her forehead, little feet pattering on the hardwood, maybe even the click of a dog's paws. If only this could come true, I sigh internally.

Resolute to enjoy this moment, I fulfill one of my imaginations. Carefully, wrapping my arms under her knees and her back I walk to the bedroom. She is laid down gently on the bed and I notice her plump red limps. Tiny puffs of hair escape her mouth causing tendrils and wisps of her long locks to float. I couldn’t imagine not loving this woman. She has turned my life upside down, for good.

What would it be like to memorize every facial expression she forms or to hug her large round belly filled with my kin, an Everdeen-Mellark. As I tuck her in, pondering these unrealistic thoughts, she stirs.

“Peeta?” the goddess faintly asks.

“Yes, my lov-Katniss,” I respond, almost slipping up, still overwhelmed by those dreamy thoughts.

She reached for my wrist and wraps her slender hand around it.

“Stay?”she murmurs, drowsily.

There is one, singular answer that can fulfill this question.

“Always,” I tell her.

Wrapping my arms around her in bed and kissing the top of her head lightly I realize something I could never let slip from my memory.

Even if Katniss and I are never what I wish, as long as she is in my life, a part of my heart and soul, I shall not want again. My love, my beauty, my Katniss flower.

***

Katniss

A kiss on the forehead and a warm man next to me. Who knew that would make me feel like I’m home. No, not just any man, Peeta. I couldn’t comprehend loving another man. Oh. My. God. I love him. I don’t know when, I certainly don’t know how, but I just do. A sleepy grin crosses my face as I slip into a soft sleep with the man I love by my side. Home isn't always a place but sometimes a person. People may enter your life unexpectedly and flip it upside down. You may even hate the person but one thing is for sure, forever and always, I’m glad it's him.

***

So that’s it? I can do an epilogue if you want it just let me know. It probably seems rushed but I don’t really care. This has been such a joy to write and I’m so so thankful to each and everyone of you for sticking around to the end. Also, did you enjoy Peeta’s perspective?

-xoxo Clara

#nothim #everlark #the hunger games #fic #its over #unless there is an epilogue #ahhh #thanks all #enemies to lovers

[cheeseanonioncrisps]

I have a theory about Peetas cake business. It’s just one cake that they rent and don’t eat and he scrapes the icing off and redecorates it for every rental 😂

Link to post referenced.

… This would actually make sense.

Okay, so for those who haven't read the books, here's how Peeta's cakes are described:

“Fancy cakes with flowers and pretty things painted in frosting. They’re for birthdays and New Year’s Day. When we’re in the square, Prim always drags me over to admire them, although we’d never be able to afford one. There’s little enough beauty in District 12, though, so I can hardly deny her this.”

So, they're explicitly birthday and festival cakes, they are pretty elaborately iced, and they are apparently on display all year round. Now this is an admittedly very clever way to account for Peeta's painting skills, but it just doesn't fit with the world-building.

The vast majority of District 12 are constantly on the verge of starvation at all times. They literally keep finding the bodies of people who have wasted away lying in the fucking street. Even Peeta's family, who are 'Merchants', members of the District 12 middle class, live mainly off of stale bread and Katniss's dead squirrels. We're told that cake isn't even all that common at weddings, so it seems unlikely that Merchants or Seam people are going to be splashing out on the yearly expense of birthday or New Years' cakes.

No, the only people who are realistically going to be able to afford a birthday cake, are the upper class— the Victors, the Peacekeepers, and the Mayor.

The Peacekeepers just don't seem like the types to buy birthday cakes. Admittedly, Songbirds and Snakes suggested that they do hang out together back at base (although that was over sixty years before the main series is set, and things seem to have changed a bit since then), but it really doesn't feel like a 'birthday party' environment.

Until Peeta and Katniss won the games, 12's only living Victor was Haymitch Abernathy, who is constantly pissed out of his mind, sleeps with a knife beside him at all times, and seems to have no friends besides the Victors from other Districts. Somehow I doubt he's buying the intricately iced birthday cakes.

The Mayor's family are the only ones that I think would actually buy the cakes, and that's only three birthdays, and probably one New Year's cake for the whole family. And Madge's Mum was horrifically traumatised by the death of her identical twin sister in the Hunger Games, so the birthday they used to share probably isn't exactly a joyous, cake-filled occasion.

The Bakery could certainly do those as special orders, but it doesn't explain the constant supply of cakes to put in the window and for Peeta to practise his one-day lifesaving frosting skills on. It's not as if they need to advertise, and it's got to be a complete waste of money throwing out the unsold cakes when they go stale.

However… if they've actually put the same cakes on display for years, and Peeta just scrapes the icing off occasionally and redecorates them, then that would at least explain how they could afford it. Not necessarily why they would do it in the first place— they're the only bakery in District 12, so it's not as if they need to advertise— but given Peeta's love of painting it's entirely possible that he came up with the idea of putting cakes in the window specifically so he got the chance to decorate them. (Perhaps justifying it to his parents as practise for decorating smaller, less elaborate, items that are probably more likely to sell, like the flower biscuits he makes in Catching Fire.)

#i like this theory! #anon #ask #yes this makes so much sense #this is my new headcanon #hunger games #the hunger games #thg #this isn't the only worldbuilding problem in the hunger games #btw #but it's one that's always bugged me #like suzanne collins is a great author #but in places it definitely feels like she struggled #between her desire to flesh out District 12 as a setting #and her desire to have it be no bigger than like #a small mining town #like here's another thing #how come the merchants and the seam people are able to be so clearly distinct #to the extent that they might actually be different ethnic groups #(the seam people have olive skin dark hair and grey eyes #the merchants are pale skinned blonde and blue-eyed) #despite the whole population literally not even requiring more than one school? #like realistically either the merchants are all totally inbred by now #or they intermarry with the seam population and so look just like them