anonymous asked:

“i’m the lawyer helping you get custody of your daughter and oops you’re all kinds of adorable with her and also i think she’s growing attached to me is this good or bad” au pleaaass

Anon, writing has been a struggle for me for the last few weeks; words would just not come. But, this morning I woke up, and I wanted to write this. So thank you. I hope you like.


She’d figured for the longest time that kids were simply not her forte.

Katniss Everdeen liked them just fine - after all, she had two nieces and three ‘honorary’ nephews courtesy of Madge and Gale, and they all thought Aunty Kathiss (4 year old Poppy had never been able to pronounce her name properly, and it had simply stuck) was the absolute best. She’d practically raised Prim through childhood after their father had died and their mother had drowned herself in work to forget her loss, and even after all these years, Katniss still knew how to handle a temper tantrum better than most anybody.

But Prim was 26 now and a mother herself who no longer warranted the close attention like that of a child, the temper tantrums she dealt with were those of adult lawyers who really should know better, and the last time Lily had wailed like a banshee while she held her, Katniss had promptly handed the squirming then-two year old back to Prim and headed for the wine fridge. Her days of being a stand-in parent were over, and she was quite happy with that.

But then Allie Mellark had skipped into her office, and it had become another story entirely.

Keep reading

Under the Willow (an Everlark Drabble)

Katniss rolled away from Peeta and ran a hand over her growing stomach. “I’m scared.” She admitted softly.

“Me too.” He put his hand over hers and kissed her softly.

“I had a tough day.”

“I figured.” He trailed his fingers over the small bump. “You’re usually into it, but you weren’t much this time.”

She pushed his hand away. “I don’t want this.”

He watched her a moment and then rolled out if bed.

She sat up. “What?”

“I’ll be right back.” He pulled on his pants and walked out of the room.

She pulled the blanket over her shoulders and curled onto her side. She was about to fall asleep when Peeta came into the room. Katniss rolled over and watched as he sat several tubes of paint on the beside table and unloaded some brushes and a board to mix paints. He exited into the bathroom and came back with a glass of water. He sat down on a stool.

“What are you doing?” She asked.

He pulled the blanket down to her waist. “Painting.”

“You want to paint on me?”

“Yes. Will you sing me Deep in the Meadow? Me and the baby, I mean.”

She sighed and started singing softly as he mixed his first paint color.

He slid the brush up her stomach and she faltered. “Tickle?”

“And cold.” She combed her fingers through his hair and continued to sing to the conclusion of the song. She got used to the tickle and the chill. She lay silently, staring up at the ceiling for a long time afterward.

“I’m sure the baby will love when you sing to it.” He said softly.

She looked at him. “You love it. I should do it more often.”

He looked up and smiled that dazzling smile she loved. “You definitely should.” He went back to work.

She combed her fingers through his hair some more and trailed her hand over her shoulders and back. She caressed his arm. She noticed his hand falter and she returned her hand to his hair. “I do love you. And I’ll love the baby. I’m still just so scared.”

“I know.” He blew on her stomach and then looked up at her. “Yesterday when I was slicing that loaf of bread, I got the urge to bring the knife to your throat.” He swallowed. “But then you started humming and I relaxed. And I finished slicing the bread and made you a sandwich.”

She moved her hand over his shoulder and down his arm. “Do you think the baby being here will help?”

“I don’t know.” He put his brush aside. “What do you think?”

Katniss looked down and say that Peeta had painted a detailed willow on her stomach. She smiled. “It’s beautiful. But it won’t stay long.”

“Doesn’t matter.” He closed his paints. “You notice how relaxed you are now?”

She smiled and moved her hand over his chest. “You’re going to be a great dad.”

“You’re going to be the best mom.” He rubbed her arm before he moved away to put his paint things on the dresser. He walked back to the bed and shed his pants. He climbed into the bed and traced the outline of the tree on her belly. “I’ll repaint it if you ever need me to.”

She picked up his hand and kissed his palm. “I’m still scared.”

“So am I.” He wrapped his arm around her as he moved closer. “It’ll be okay.”

She nodded.

“Hey, Katniss, you love me. Real or not real?”

“Real, Peeta.” She whispered.

“That’s all that matters right now.”

She curled into him. “Hold me tighter.” She begged.

He complied and eventually they both fell asleep.

It’s only now that he’s been corrupted that I can fully appreciate the real Peeta. Even more than I would’ve if he’d died. The kindness, the steadiness, the warmth that had an unexpected heat behind it.