i need photographic evidence

What the fuck do you mean “isn’t a little weird that you took a picture” NO ITS NOT AT THIS POINT BECAUSE I KNEW YOU WERE GOING TO BE A FUCKING PRICK AND ACT LIKE A TWO YEAR OLD SO I NEEDED PHOTOGRAPHIC EVIDENCE BECAUSE THIS HAS BEEN GOING ON FOR 5 SEASONS AND YOU PUT MY FUCKING GIRLFRIEND IN JAIL AND I DONT. FUCKING. TRUST. YOU. BITCH.

The Contractor - Chapter 3

While I usually don’t update this fast, I somehow managed to throw together this chapter in just a few days! I had no logical reason to withhold it (apart from being a royal butthead) so I just thought, hey, let’s throw it out there.

A billion thanks to louezem and deinde-prandium, who are both lovely proofreaders AND lovely people. This chapter is readable only because of them. They’re magnificent.

If you want to check out the chapter, you can find it here!


“You were not,” Katniss laughs, scrunching up her nose.

She watches Peeta from across his desk, amused with how poorly he’s fighting a smile. “You have no idea, Katniss. I was the chubbiest kid in my class. Tubby belly and all.”

“I need photographic evidence.”

Drawing his phone from beside his computer, Peeta leans back in his swivel chair and drags his finger in a series of swipes across the screen. “I’m flattered you think I’ve always had this magnificent physique, but growing up as a baker’s son did have its consequences.”

Katniss still can’t believe it. Although she’s only seen him in dress shirts, the way the cloth tightens around his thick biceps and stretches over the flat plane of his abdomen suggests he has the body of a god, or at least a professional basketball player. It’s hard to imagine a time when that wasn’t the case.

But then Peeta’s eyes light up, a smirk slinking across his face as he holds his phone out for her to see. And there it is, a mediocre-quality snap of a school photo, the subject a blue-eyed boy with blonde curls and an impressive, sagging tummy. Oh my.

She clamps a hand over her mouth, trying – and failing – to stifle her giggle. “Oh, Peeta,” she snorts into her palm. She can tell it’s him because of the eyes, but otherwise, the doughy boy is virtually unrecognizable. “You were so—”

“Obese?” he chuckles.

“I was going to say cute.” She pushes his phone away, motioning to his body. “When did this happen?”

“High school. A healthy combination of wrestling and growth spurts really does wonders, doesn’t it?”

Oh, it does, she wants to say, but she keeps her lips sealed.

They smile at each other across his desk, their gazes locked for a second too long. Warmth tangles in her chest as she studies the slight wrinkles webbing from the corners of his eyes, the ones that deepen as he grins; she’s been noticing them a lot in the past week, since he’s been inviting her to his office every night. She wonders how much of her he’s been noticing, too.

Then suddenly, as if an invisible fist socks them both in the gut, they flinch and look away – Katniss, to what little is left of her food, and Peeta, to the ceiling.

What was that?