mellark loves everdeen

8

List of Favourite OTP’s; (3⁄4) Literature couples ≡ peeta & katniss (the hunger games)

You’re a painter. You’re a baker. You like to sleep with the windows open. You never take sugar in your tea. And you always double-knot your shoelaces. What I need to survive is not Gale’s fire, kindled with rage and hatred. I have plenty of fire myself. What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again. And only Peeta can give me that. So after, when he whispers, “You love me. Real or not real?”
I tell him, “Real.”

TUSCANY, MY LOVE

A/N: Welcome to my contribution for the New Author’s Month over at @loveinpanem​ 

Nearly two months and 16,000 words later and I can finally present it to you. But this wouldn’t have happened if for a couple of very special people, starting with the awesome ladies fom LIP: @thegirlfromoverthepond​, @akai-echo​, @titaniasfics​ and @louezem. Thank you for your dedication and all the work you put in. You’re doing a wonderful job.

My biggest, warmest and most heartfelt THANK YOU is - together with INCREDIBLE beta @honeylime08​ - for my awesome mentor: the unbelievably talented, witty and wonderful @xerxia31​ 
I loved working with you so much, and look forward to our future cooperation. :D

And last but not least: to my best friend, Pez. She’s not on tumblr, but she helped with this story like it was her own. I love you so much, bestie! 

Enough said, let’s start with the story. I really hope you enjoy! Thanks for all the support! :)

Editing to add: AO3 / FFn


TUSCANY, MY LOVE

“If you don’t show in the next five minutes, she’s gonna have a heart attack.”

Katniss groans, the strap of her bag constantly slipping from her shoulder. With every other step, she nearly crushes her heels with the suitcase she’s pulling behind her. Damn high heels, she should have worn her sneakers. She’s a fit person: she jogs, she visits the gym at least twice a week, she loves hiking. Ok, fine. She could eat a little healthier, but between jobs and her sometimes very atypical hours she can’t find the time to cook as well. So it’s fast food most of the time. But all in all she thinks of herself as a person with good constitution.

Right now, she huffs like a railroad engine, and her feet hurt like she ran a marathon. All the while she tries to hold her cell to her ear and listen to her best friend’s calm but slightly sarcastic voice. Even though she’s running through a busy airport, she can hear Prim’s hysterics in the background.

Code Red it is.

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Punsh

For @loveinpanem’s July-challenge “Adopt A Fic/Finish A Fic” I had the wonderful opportunity to finish a short ficlet of @xerxia31. She sent me the first 800 words, and I finished with the rest. Therefore I asked her if it would be ok to post this here as co-authors (also because “co-author” sounds so swanky and makes us feel very sophisticated. ggg).

Thanks to the team of LIP for another awesome challenge, thanks to @xerxia31 for not only being co-author, but beta as well, and thanks to all of you awesome people for the constant support. You’re lovely!

You can also read this on AO3.

Happy reading! :)


Originally posted by haidaspicciare

PUNCH

Katniss was slumped in a chair, the painkillers they’d pumped her full of making her light-headed but doing precious little for the pain in her broken hand.

They weren’t helping the hurt in her heart either.

“Finnick, where are you?” she grumbled under her breath. The hospital wouldn’t release her without someone to take her home, despite her insistence that she’d be fine on the bus. So she sat, fidgeting with the sling that supported her newly-splinted hand, feeling miserable.

She dropped her head into her one good hand, concentrating on her breathing. She wouldn’t cry. Not here. She didn’t cry when it happened, didn’t cry in the cab to the hospital, didn’t cry while the doctors and nurses poked and prodded. She wasn’t going to cry. At least not until she was home, alone.

It felt like forever before footsteps crossed the room, familiar ones that her mind refused to consider possible until a pair of double-knotted sneakers appeared in her line of vision. She quickly dashed away the few tears that had defied her iron will and fixed her face into a scowl before looking up.

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