peetas face when she hugs him

jobanana7  asked:

Hi!! Mi birthday is March 31st! I would love a dribble in the wilderness universe... Maybe dome cute pregnant werewolf sutt?? Thanks!

Originally posted by foodiest-stims

Wishing you the happiest of birthdays @jobanana7! To help you celebrate in style, the lovely and generous @chele20035 has written this perfect little drabble, just for you! Enjoy


Another Piece of Their Happily Ever After… a Wilderness Drabble

rated M


“Oh,” Katniss moans. “Your fingers have to be magic.”

“You say that every time,” Annie chuckles. “You just want me to keep massaging.”

Katniss sighs, “You never should have told me that you were a therapist.”

Her stomach ripples at the sound of their voices. Katniss scratches where what could only be an elbow, or maybe a foot is poking out while Annie offers, “You were the one who was asking the questions for your new book. I can’t help it if my wolf won’t let me lie to my Alpha.”

Katniss looks up at her friend. “I’m not your alpha.”

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Alright everybody, I promised smut and fluff after PiP, so here be the smut. This is a continuation of a drabble series I started back on Halloween in which Katniss escapes dealing with her sort of an ex by making out with Peeta. Part 1 here, and Part 2 here. Part three continued below the cut because…well because of smut. ;-D

Many thanks to the fantastic abbythebear for her editing prowess and always hilarious comments. I really wish you guys could read some of the things she said on this one. I may post them later.

Happy reading!


Surfacing slowly from sleep, Katniss groans. She was having the most wonderful dream. The last remnants of it escape her grasp and she sighs. That’s when she notices something odd. Something heavy lies over her stomach, pinning her to the bed, and a cool breeze tickles across her bare shoulder.

Why is there a breeze in her bedroom?

Cracking her eyes, she checks her immediate surroundings. Cream curtains dance in the winter breeze and the stark morning light filters through the gauzy fabric. Katniss pulls the unfamiliar blue comforter up over her body and the loose shirt she’s wearing slips further, exposing some of her upper arm. The bed shifts beside her and the weight over her middle tugs her into a solid, warm body.

The previous night comes flooding back and she nearly leaps from the bed, but Peeta’s arm tightens around her, an iron band holding her to him. He mumbles something and she turns her head to look at him.

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anonymous asked:

-“i got you for secret santa so i got you this really expensive but sentimental gift that you’ve always wanted, hoping you’ll never find out it’s from me - and that i’ve been in love with you 1234567 years” -SNOWBALL FIGHTS + staring at each other on the snow -the burning/cooking one -person a seducing person b into taking a few steps back/backing them against the wall (”oh look, how did that mistletoe get right there????”);; any of these or a combo of these would be great ☺️☺️☺️

okay i’m going with this prompt specifically:

“we were playing in the snow and you suddenly tackled me to the ground and now…we’re just…staring… at each other…”


Peeta shakes the snowflakes off his jacket and stomps his boots on his parents’ front porch to dislodge the clumps of wet snow before he opens the front door, slipping into the warmth of his childhood home. 

“Hey,” he calls out as he sets his bags down to shrug out of his coat, throwing it over the coat rack.

“We’re in the kitchen,” his mother calls back. Peeta lays his overnight bag at the bottom of the stairs and makes a pit stop in the living room to drop his Christmas gifts at the tree, then he ventures into the kitchen where his family is gathered around the bar. He’s vaguely aware of an unfamiliar woman, but his attention is on his parents as they stand to greet him.

“It’s good to see you, son,” his dad says as he pulls him into a hug.

“Hey, dad,” Peeta says, letting go of him to reach for his mother next.

“You look half-frozen!” she frets, cupping his cold cheeks in her hands before she wraps her arms around him. He hugs her, touching his cold hands to the back of her neck, and she shrieks, pushing him away. “Peeta! Where are your gloves?”

He laughs as he releases her, rubbing his hands together. “Sorry, I guess I lost them in the move.” She shakes her head disapprovingly, moving back to the bar.

“You’ve been in California too long, man.”

Peeta turns around at his brother Rye’s lighthearted chastisement, his eyes flitting to the woman beside him that he’d noticed when he first walked in. She’s not as unfamiliar as he originally thought, but Peeta can’t quite place why that is.

“I guess I have,” he replies, hugging Rye and slapping him on the back before looking back at the woman curiously.

“Peeta, this is my girlfriend, Katniss,” Rye introduces, and she smiles at Peeta, leaning forward to shake his hand.

“Oh, hey,” Peeta says, though he’s still racking his brain to place her face.

“Hey,” she says, releasing his hand. She looks a little sheepish, but she’s still smiling. “I think we actually had a class together at State a few years ago.”

Suddenly, it clicks for him. “Oh, yeah! With Professor Abernathy, right? Intro to Poetry, I think?”

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Lost & Found: Home for Christmas

Peeta sat in the dark cave, the one he’d stumbled upon weeks after being stranded, when the rainy season chased him from the beach and into the jungle, looking for shelter. He stared at the marks on the wall. He didn’t need to count them. Every cut he’d made into the stone so far had made a simultaneous cut onto his heart as well, and he’d felt acute despair with each one of them.

336 marks and counting. Peeta knew he was eight by now, having left his home in January. He didn’t remembered the exact date they’d set sail, and while he knew the months of the year and the days of the week, and that his calendar might be not be completely accurate, he knew he was close enough.

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Empty Nest

Author: @sagittaria-sagittifolia

Rating: G (one bad word)

Trigger warning: sadness

A/N: 1) I don’t own the Hunger Games or any of its characters. They belong to Suzanne Collins

2) Seems like all prompts/drabbles I’ve written in the last few weeks are just rushed pieces, written in five minute breaks between my work or a bit before I fall in bed totally exhausted.

3) Only checked it once, no time for a beta check. So sorry for all mistakes.


“Stop it!“

He just looks at me, confused. “What do you mean? I am just baking,” he says to me, trying to look innocent, but the tone of his voice, the absolute manic way he kneads the dough in front of him, or how he throws the dirty baking pans into the sinks speaks louder than a thousand words.

My darling husband is pissed off, frustrated, angry, anxious and so many other things at once. And he is too proud to admit it.

I can just sigh at this behavior. It’s not like I feel the same like him- I am rigid with fear that something will happen, but this non-stop baking for the last four weeks, since she told us the news, is crossing a line.

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Once Upon a Winter’s Morn

Perhaps this is cheating, but since it fits both the Capitol Treats prompt (sort of) for @everlarkedalways‘ #merryeverlark for Dec 12th and the Snow prompt for @loveinpanem‘s Dec 13th challenge, I’m tagging both. Also, I’m posting at a time when it’s technically the 12th where I am but it’s the 13th almost everywhere else. Lol. Thank you, lovely ladies for running these events and keeping the fandom alive. That last bit needs to be said in your best Haymitch voice. ;-)

This is not beta’d and was written rather hastily, so all mistakes are entirely mine. And I need to tag one more person, @ohmakemeahercules, who asked for: “How about Everlark: Peeta recreates the hot chocolate recipe from the Capitol?” Thank you, dear, I appreciate the prompt! <3


The snow storm arrived with no warning, several weeks earlier in the year than usual, dropping three feet of thick powder onto the ground of District Twelve, and trapping its residents inside their homes. As several made attempts to leave their newly built homes for their various jobs in the early hours of the morning, they discovered how ill-equipped they were. District Twelve had plenty of shovels for construction, pointed and spade shaped for breaking ground, but few people had ordered flat edged snow shovels yet.

Each of the Twelve houses of Victor’s Village came equipped with a fully furnished garden shed. Not that Victors were expected to perform such remedial tasks as gardening or shoveling snow from their walkways. Generally speaking, they could afford to hire someone to do it for them. But the Victors of Twelve had never been just your average Victor.

They started their mornings much as they had all done for the past few months. Peeta rose early, gently kissing Katniss’ forehead and brushing aside her hair to ask if she wanted breakfast before she went into the woods. On a gloomy day with snow blanketing the earth, Katniss tended to prefer the comfort of her bed, though. Such a day made her think too much about where she spent her last winter.

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8

Truly sorry.

Protecting Bae
  • Peeta: Katniss, let me come with you. I can be a good distraction. They know my face.
  • Katniss: No. I'm not losing you again.
  • Gale: But what if they go door to door? What then?
  • Peeta: Give me a nightlock pill. I won't go back there.
  • Katniss: *realizes that's the last thing she wants as well; stares at Gale till he bequeaths his pill to Peeta*
  • Peeta: *stands there*
  • Katniss: *hugs Peeta*
  • Peeta: Katniss when I see you again it'll be a different world.
  • Katniss: *tucks her head into the crook of his neck, slowly lets go, turns to Gale* You ready?
  • Gale: Yep.
  • Katniss: Let's go. *leaves*
  • Me: she left him behind cauSE SHE'D BE DAMAGED BEYOND REPAIR IF SHE LOST HIM AGAIN. CAUSE SHE LOVES HIM. SHE WANTS TO PUT HIM SOMEWHERE SAFE WHERE NO ONE CAN HURT HIM. MY OTP IS PERFECT AND IN LOVE!!!!
Everlark Drabble: White Roses

For @chele20035 and @notanislander on their respective birthdays.

To my two very good friends who have a birthday!  @chele20035, I meant to have this ready yesterday but I’m batting zero when it comes to being on-time with birthday drabbles.  @notanislander lucks out with her birthday being a day later! Woot!  Woot!  Many thanks to @thegirlfromoverthepond and @akai-echo for their pre-reading prowess.

This is pure fluff with a sprinkle of angst. Hope you enjoy!

White Roses

“Get them away from me!” Katniss shrieked when the flowers were delivered to their home. Peeta, who was in the kitchen, rushed out to find Katniss tearing the vase with the roses from the courier’s hands and hurling it ferociously onto the pavement outside their home.

The delivery boy, who’d ducked to protect himself from the projectile, slowly straightened himself as the vase shattered into a million pieces against the pavement. The flowers swirled out with the seeping water like blood oozing from an open wound.

Not content to see the flowers lying defiled on the ground, Katniss stomped out of her house and down the stairs to crush each plump, velveteen cluster until they lay shredded and blackened under her hunting boots. None of the 12 flowers received mercy from her abuses.

Peeta thought to stop her but, convinced that she would neither hurt herself or the courier, watched with a stricken expression as Katniss - chest heaving and braid swinging with her fury - made short work of the flowers.  When she was satisfied that there was no way to recognize them any longer for what they were, she kicked them against the gutter of the road until they fell into the gaps leading to the underground sewers.  Without a word to either the young man who stood transfixed by her destruction of the flowers, or to Peeta, who knew better than to try to stop her, she shot like a bolt up the stairs, the pounding of her steps ending with the loud crash of their bedroom door.

Peeta smiled apologetically to the young man, who could not have known what those flowers meant to her, before collecting the sender’s card and tipping him, sending him away in a state of utter bafflement.

A glance at the road revealed the extent of the mess she’d made but Peeta couldn’t hold it against her. If the truth were told, he could feel the anger building up in him.  Of all the days for her to be mortified by the reminder of the greatest evil they’d ever survived.  He fetched a broom and swept up the glass and any remaining, crushed flowers, being careful not to leave even the minimal evidence of their invasion.  He shook off the broom and left it in the shed outside near the kitchen entrance, eager to check on Katniss.

Once inside, however, Peeta had a thought. He removed his apron, folding and setting it on the counter as was his habit. He made his way to the study, pulling the envelope out of his pocket, and glanced inside to confirm what he already knew.

He dialed the familiar number, waiting for the telltale buzzing sound of the call as it traversed the entire expanse of Panem.

“Plutarch Heavensbee,” came the lilting, nasally response that marked him as a Capitol native, different from every other accent in the nation.

“This is Peeta Mellark, District 12…” Peeta began but was cut off by the older man’s effusions.

“Why yes, my boy!  I assume the flowers arrived?  A Happy Birthday to our Girl of Fire!” he said gleefully and, Peeta was sure, filled with both pride at his generosity and good intentions towards Katniss. Whatever were Heavensbee’s sentiments, they were not enough to soften Peeta’s temper.

“Funny you should say that,” Peeta seethed but kept his voice steady.  He decided that Heavensbee was not malicious but simply an idiot.  “Yes, the flowers arrived and while we’re very grateful, I have to insist that you never send roses again.”

“Well, why not? They are in bloom, after all!  And they make the most fashionable contrast to the Lady of the Revolution…”

“Would you not…!” Peeta raised his voice but then got control of himself again. “She’s just Katniss.  Not The Girl on Fire or Lady of…whatever name you just came up with. Just. Katniss.  And please, about the flowers. No. More. White. Roses!  In fact, forget roses of every kind!” Peeta wiped his face in frustration. “Anyone who knows Katniss even a little would know that she can’t see white roses. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

Peeta could almost hear Plutarch’s horror as understanding finally descended on him. “I’m so sorry.  It didn’t even occur to me…”

“No, obviously not,” Peeta interjected, replaying the image of Katniss destroying the flowers in his mind.

Plutarch spoke, his words heavy with regret. “We’ll be careful next time. I’m sorry. I’d like to make this up somehow.”

“Don’t worry,” Peeta answered, his anger dissipating at Plutarch’s apology. “Just call me the next time you are confused, okay?  These things take time and it’s only been three years You understand, don’t you?”

“I do, I do,” Plutarch answered, after which they said their goodbyes and hung up.  

Peeta stared at the white card for a few moments, images flashing unbidden before his eyes, images he did not want to see during the daylight hours but found that sometimes, he had no choice. He shook his head to clear out the memories of fire and pain and slipped the card in his pocket. Upon arriving at the landing on the second floor, he slowly opened the door to their bedroom.  The room was silent except for the quiet sobbing that came from the darkened closet.  He hunkered down onto the ground as best as his leg allowed, leaning against the doorjamb as he listened to Katniss sniffle inside the closet.

“Katniss?” he asked, careful not to startle her.

“I’m okay. I’m okay. I just need a minute…” she said before choking the words at the end of her sentence.

Peeta leaned against the wall, waiting as he thumbed the card in his pocket. After several minutes, the door opened and she crawled out, surprised to catch him on the ground also.  Her face was swollen and blotchy with tears, a sight that saddened him because he couldn’t stand to see Katniss cry.  Without preamble, he took the card out of his pocket and handed it to her.  She stared at it as if it were a rattlesnake that would just as soon bite her as be handled by her.

“Don’t you want to know who they were from?” Peeta asked.

She shook her head but then paused, considering the card and nodded. “Would you open it?”

“Would you be mad if I told you I opened it already?” Peeta said, sliding the card out. “It says, Happy Birthday, Girl of Fire and it’s signed Plutarch Heavensbee.”

Katniss gulped hard and took the card from his hand. “I know it’s crazy because he’s dead but I thought…I thought…”

Peeta pulled her into a hug, rubbing her shoulders and arms as if to ward off a chill, though the room was filled with the warmth of spring.  “I know what you thought and I’m so sorry,” he said as she leaned into him and rested her head in the crook of his neck.  “It won’t happen again. I called Plutarch and explained his mistake.”

Katniss lifted her head, looking at him with round, red-rimmed eyes. “You did?”

He smiled, pushing a tear-dampened strand of hair away from her cheek.  “I did. I told him that he was not allowed to send flowers or call you by any other name but ‘Katniss’ or I’d take my bum leg down to the Capitol and kick his ass.”

Her eyes widened, and she gasped as she stared at Peeta. “You didn’t!” she exclaimed, low chuckles turning to peals of laughter.

“Well, everything except the ass-kicking part. But it was strongly implied!”  Peeta said as he watched her face melt into a mask of humor.  She laughed and laughed and he thought he’d never make it to the Capitol to kick anyone’s ass because he’d die first from the joy of seeing her laugh so hard.

“That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day!” Katniss said, her eyes tearing, though not from sadness any longer.  “He has this new thing he’s been calling me lately…”

“Lady of the Revolution,” Peeta suggested, which made her laugh even harder. 

“Where does he come up with this stuff?” she gasped as she wiped her tears with the back of her hand.

“I don’t know but I told him to stop.  He won’t be doing that anymore,” he answered, watching as Katniss became serene again.  He felt himself brighten as an idea came to him.

“Hey, the meadow’s in bloom. Let’s take a basket out there and pick some real flowers.  It’ll be fun and make up for today.”

Katniss’s face brightened as a watery smile broke through her puffy cheeks. Without warning, she flung her arms around his neck, nearly knocking him over. “You always manage to make everything better.”

Peeta hugged her back, gripping her tightly to him. “That’s what you keep me around for, right?” he laughed as he pushed the strands of her hair that had come loose from her braid before angling his face down to kiss her. He felt his appetite for her open up, heating his blood and sending electricity throughout his body. When they broke off, he asked in a voice husky with desire,“You want to stay in for a bit here before we go out? The day is still young.”

Katniss pressed her nose into his neck, breathing in the scent of him before she whispered. “Or we can go to the meadow and kill two birds with one stone. What do you think about that?  It’s my birthday, you know.”

Peeta pulled back, lifting his eyebrows in surprise. “I think that’s the best thing I’ve heard all day.”

Push - An Everlark Drabble

A/N: Just something that popped into my head when listening to Nick Jonas’s Push. Enjoy!

X-X-X

It was happening again, but he could take it.

Katniss was once again spewing words of hate and anger, pushing him further away with every syllable.

She knew every one of his buttons to push. His mother. His brothers. His childhood.

He stared at the wall behind her, his name coming from her lips causing him to meet her eyes, normally so clear they appeared almost silver, but now they were a dark, cloudy, almost charcoal color.

“Peeta, maybe we should see other people.”

This argument always ended the same way. With those exact words. And at this point, they had lost their ability to sting. He was numb to them.

She held his heart, and they both knew it, the same as they both knew he held her’s.

But he had created a safe place inside his head, a warm, fuzzy place where he was content to wait it out, weather the storm. A place she never got to go. A place he never let her in.

But when it came to these words, as numb as he had become, he knew no one else was good enough for her. He himself was barely above par.

“Don’t say that,” he said, reaching out to stroke her cheek gently with his thumb, stilling when she went rigid at his touch, backing away a step.

“You’re suffocating me, Peeta!” It was more of a whine, even a plea, than an accusation.

“You need your space, I get that,” he said softly, taking a step toward her, putting them practically back where they were. “And time. Whatever you need, I’ll do. It’s me and you.” He wrapped his arms around her in a hug, if only to hide his face for a moment.

In reality, it was just her, and no him. No matter how much he was there for her, no matter how much they repaired, there was always a flaw in their plan, and they always fell through the cracks, back here at the start.

He willed his tears to not fall. They could make it through this. But he was wearing thin, being pushed too far. For once he wanted to repair things if only just so he could be the one to push her away for once.

X-X-X

Things started to get better. They fell back in synch. Until one day it happened again out of the blue.

And for some reason Peeta felt himself growing anxious and frantic, like he had the first few times. The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could process them.

“Please don’t go. We can do whatever you want. Wanna go to a concert? We can do that.” He hated concerts. “Want to just sit at home? That’s fine.” Not really. It was awkward now. “Want to fly to the moon? I’ll try.” His promises were empty despite his smile.

Was all this worth it? Getting buried deeper and deeper, dragged further and further down, only to be left there alone, in the dark, wishing for a ray of light.

Once again he enveloped her in a hug to hide his face, not because he was insincere, but because his eyes were wide with fear.

All the empty promises rang in his head as he realized what they were.

A means to an end. A line to pull her in, bring her close, only so he could finally be the one to push.

And that hurt most of all.

X-X-X

They had broken up for what must have been the fifteenth time.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror, wondering how they had gotten here again.

Finally it dawned on him as an unexpected tear rolled down his face.

He needed her enough not to notice.
He wanted her enough to lie.

And that scared her. He should have seen it sooner, but she was so good at wearing that confident face, along with all the rest, that he was drawn in just as much as any by her beauty.

But now that he saw her vulnerability, the man behind the curtain, and saw all her flaws, all her short comings, he also saw all the parts she’d hidden that were so unmistakably her, and so unmistakably beautiful, she was no longer just beautiful, she was radiant.

And he had been the one to finally push.

X-X-X

They reconciled a week later. A week from hell, in Peeta’s opinion. They grew back together, once again in synch.

Until one day that she simply broke down for no apparent reason. Suddenly she was sharing things about her family, her past, everything, and all Peeta could do was listen.

He held her as she sobbed, rocking her gently. Kissing her temple when she took a shuddering breath. Holding her close and squeezing her tight to hide his face, because the smile he wore would be misinterpreted.

“I’m so sorry, Peeta. I’m so sorry for how I treated you. I need you.”

His smile only grew, and as he pulled away to finally let her see his face, he whispered a promise in her ear.

“Don’t worry. I’ll hold you so you can be the one to push back.”

X-X-X

“Higher, daddy, higher!”

Peeta smiled as his little girl giggled and squealed as she soared to new heights with every push of the swing.

“Mama, look at me! I’m flying!”

Peeta looked over to find Katniss leaning on the porch frame with a smile, their little boy waddling down the hill toward Peeta.

He couldn’t help but smile back at her.

“Papa!” The little boy called as Peeta ran up to him, picking him up and swinging him around above his head, making him fly.

“Daddy! Come on! I’m dying over here!”

Peeta laughed at his daughter’s description of her slowing swing.

“Okay, Pumpkin, be right th-”

“I got it,” Katniss said as she walked passed him, making him jump. He hadn’t even heard her coming.

Looking at him with a pointed, nostalgic, but happy twinkle in her eye, she smiled and said, “I believe it’s my turn to push.”

'I Give a Fic About You' (Stacylk's Drabble Gift Xmas)-Okay

For Elysepeetakatnisseverlark

Prompt: Jealous!Katniss

She knocks at the back door of the bakery before shifting her game bag over her shoulder. She’s thankful for the decent haul despite the sweltering heat. Katniss can feel the sweat that gathers at the base of her neck travel down her body to settle at the small of her back. The strands of hair that have escaped her braid now stick to the side of her face and she can feel herself become impatient. She reaches out to knock once more and as she does she hopes he’s the one to answer the door. It had been awkward the last time she came to trade and one of his brothers had answered. Katniss was in mid-step to place her hands at their face when she noticed that the blue eyes staring back at her didn’t belong to Peeta. She had clapped her hands strangely and loudly exclaimed about how warm the weather was. He had agreed warily before discussing the trade.

There’s a tense minute before the door opens. Katniss breathes a sigh of relief when the blue eyes she’s spent hours staring into are looking back at her. She can feel her body relax. Peeta’s muscular arms are covered in sweat and flour as he crosses them over his broad chest while leaning against the doorframe. Peeta smiles at her in that way that makes her stomach flip flop and her face flush. She’s about to speak when suddenly he leans forward and takes her by the wrist. Katniss doesn’t fight him as he pulls her over the threshold and she tries to ignore how dizzy the feel of his hand on her skin makes her.

How light headed it always makes her feel.

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It’s clear that Katniss knew the whole pregnancy thing was fake. She looks surprised when Peeta first dropped the baby bomb, but she also looks sad. When Peeta hugs her, you notice this look on her face. To me it almost seemed like she was mulling it over. Her pregnant with Peeta’s baby. She has that bit of sadness on her face because she has planned on sacrificing herself to keep Peeta alive, and thus eliminating children as a choice for them. And as she’s hugging him, she’s thinking how, if only for a moment, it doesn’t seem like such a bad idea.

To my friend @arbyeatscheesebuns It was a pleasure writing this and I hope you have enjoyed it as much as I have. Tonight ends the official Christmas Season for me. This is the conclusion.  If you would like to read the first chapters you can do them by clicking here

Thank you for your kindness to @hijacked-victor, and @titania522 for the encouragement and edits and for the banner created by the lovely @otrascosasseries

Thank you Suzanne Collins for the Hunger Games (which I do not own.)


It was the morning of Christmas Eve. Katniss sat in the local jail cell wondering what was going on. It was empty and silent. When they arrested her, Peeta tried to help her. He told them he was not kidnapped. The cops arrested her anyways and dragged her out of her house. Katniss rubbed her face.

She was glad her family was not arrested. They were in shock and upset especially with the wild accusations Glimmer and her crony Clove were making at the time of the arrest. Katniss was sure her family most likely abandoned her. She refused to make her one free call, there was no one who she could call. Angry frustrated tears appeared fell from her eyes. Once more Katniss felt sorry for herself, thinking everyone abandoned her.

“Katniss Everdeen?" 

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'I Give a Fic About You' (Stacylk's Drabble Gift Xmas)-Dandelion

For Rach jhutchmyanchor

Prompt: Rich!Katniss Poor!Peeta, love confession, and balcony sex

He enters the house making his way through the crowd of mourners that have congregated by the door. Most are huddled together speaking softly but even with their voices at a whisper the high vaulted ceilings cause every sound to become amplified. Peeta ambles around the foyer which is decorated in the rich gold and reds he associates with the Everdeen home. The sea of muted and black clothing is a stark contrast to the deep colored décor and it only causes his mood to sour more. Peeta bumps into more than one person as they try to converse while eating off the white china.

He’s not surprised by the turn out, since James Everdeen was beloved by most of the town. Peeta can hear sobbing echo through the manor and when he stops at the door leading into the main room he sees Mrs. Everdeen leaning over in hushed conversation with visitors. She’s as controlled as she ever was but Peeta can see her pause after a few words to take in a deep breath. He looks over to the older woman’s left to see little Prim, who isn’t that little anymore at twenty six and it feels like a lifetime ago when she was twelve and asking him to play dolls with her. Peeta doesn’t bother to look for her, because she won’t be down here where others can watch her grieve.

He knows where she’ll be.

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