lol that moment when you post the wrong question with a gif

Summary: When Katniss Everdeen finds herself stocking up on Midol and tampons at her local Target, the last person she expects to check her out is Peeta Mellark.

An age gap!Everlark love story. Rated E for explicit language and sexual situations.

This is an ongoing group drabble written by @dandelion-sunset, @everlylark, and @papofglencoe. Each author writes her installment individually and with no knowledge of what material she will receive until the previous author has posted hers. Unbetaed. 

Banner by the brilliant @loving-mellark

Also on AO3.

Thanks to everyone who has supported the story so far and to my co-authors for being the best ever! Apologies for the delay posting this update… the past week was nicht so gut, bordering on sehr schlecht indeed. lol. Feeling pretty vulnerable about this update, like I’m walking around school with my pants around my ankles, so I really hope it doesn’t suck! Tag, H. I think/hope I’ve set you up for some juicy stuff. :p

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Legs…

What are those again?

Katniss can’t seem to remember what the leaden stumps attached to her body are or what purpose they serve. She sinks heavily onto the edge of the cracked vinyl booth, searching for words through the static suddenly jamming her brain. Sae’s is crowded, bustling with morning diners who are laughing and chatting or catching up on the news, but as she looks around she can’t hear them. Their mouths move, their teeth flash in the bright sunlight streaming in through the windows, but all she can hear is a wall of white noise.   

Shock.

It comes to her in an epiphany, and yes, that seems to be the word to describe this feeling that is not a feeling.

Peeta makes as if to sit, nudging her hip with his to encourage her to move over for him. She scooches in, going through the motions even though they lack all meaning.

I sit like this. I rest my elbows on the table like this. I cross my hands like this. A human behaves like this.

She doesn’t realize how tense she is, her shoulders arched like the back of a hissing cat, until a heavy weight falls around them, drawing her back.

Peeta.

She exhales and sinks into the hollow of his arm, silently asking him to support her body. He’s warm and relaxed, and the gentle, repetitive motion of his hand drawing light circles on her upper arm reminds her: He’s here. We’re here. Together.   

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