Everlark for number 29? Your fics are great, keep on writing!
So, um…this prompt is two years old. Yikes. But anyways, the requested dialogue phrase is “I thought you were dead,” and it will be a miracle if the Anon who sent this even remembers sending it (*crazed laughter*). Anyhow, this prompt along with a few reviews shook something loose in my head and the below 4K+ word vomit happened. Not beta’d, so forgive my mistakes, also the end feels rushed but short of completely rewriting Catching Fire this is what you get. It is a continuation of something that is a year old, which you can read on:
your choice. You’re gonna want to read that part first. And before you ask…yes there’s a third part in the works. So now I have to figure out how to post this part to the other sites when I said I wouldn’t expand it. Why do I do this to myself? I should be working on ms2sl or It’s All a Lie. Enough whining! Rated M for sexy times. Enjoy.
It takes a good two minutes for what they’re suggesting to sink into my brain. As soon as it does, I shake my head vigorously. “I’m not saying that.”
“Come on, Katniss. Your mother will know it’s a lie.” As if that would be my only real objection.
“No!” I shout at Gale but my eyes are drawn to Peeta, sitting in one of the bright chartreuse armchairs, hands clenched with his forearms resting on his thighs. There’s a strange tick in his jaw and a gaping chasm between us that I don’t know how to breach. My next words are directed at him. “This was your idea, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” he whispers. My eyes burn and bile rises in my throat as I run from the room.
“Catnip,” Gale pleads. He hasn’t called me that unless there’s a camera around since before the last Games.
“Let him talk to her and explain,” I hear Haymitch say and I know that Peeta’s following me. I run to the only place I can think of that might allow me to talk freely, so long as the wind is howling like it was last night. A cold blast of wind hits me when I reach the roof, bringing me to an abrupt halt. Peeta’s warmth crashes into my back. I didn’t think he’d be able to catch up that quickly.
Prompt for @lovelyluthor, ‘I’m always a hoe for “turtlenecks in the summer to cover up hickeys”’
If anyone asked her, Kim would stand by her words that it was all Trini’s fault. That is to say, she didn’t regret anything that had happened up until then, but the fact remained that the consequences were inconvenient, uncomfortable and altogether undesirable.
Kim was hot. Like, really hot. The fact that it was summer and Angel Grove was one day into the projected heatwave was only exacerbated by the fact that she was currently wearing a heavy, black knit turtleneck. In June.
why are you smiling like that? thinking about a special someone? ;)
nah it's nothing lol
IMAGINE BONES AND SPOCK WALKING DOWN A COUNTRY LANE WITH AUTUMN LEAVES; IMAGINE THEM WEARING MATCHING CABLE-KNIT TURTLENECK SWEATERS; IMAGINE THEM HOLDING HANDS; IMAGINE THEM HAVING HOT APPLE CIDER IN FRONT OF A ROARING FIRE AFTERWARDS; IMAGINE THEM SPENDING THE NIGHT AT A ROMANTIC PRIVATE LODGE WITH ROSES AND CHAMPAGNE
Curious about that Another Man photo where he was tearing up? Maybe this was why.
Rating: G (Fluffy and GROSS)
“Love, Love”, was the first thing you heard that morning, between
small strokes on your cheek and kisses on your neck, his warm and completely
bare body cradling you from behind now becoming more prominent as you woke up.
It took you a beat to realize what was happening, before you could actually
hear his voice. There was a slight tremor added to his normal morning grumble –
but the thing you heard the most was enthusiasm, and even before you could physically see him, you could hear him
you snuggled yourself closer into him, feeling that he now had put some sort of
underwear on his hips as you could feel the hair on his legs as you intertwined
yours with his.
smiled and even though your sleepy eyes were closed, still, you kissed the
bicep that was wrapped around the top of your head, his hand on his own ear as
he smiled down at you, running a hand up your thigh, pressing another kiss to
get up, baby”, he cooed softly in your ear, his nose running along the edge of
it, making you shiver and stretch, turning your head so you could fully see him
and plant a kiss on his full lips, opening your eyes to find his tired ones
pulled into a half-grin. He was looking at you, again – probably watching you
sleep. But this morning was different – he was rushing somewhere and once you
got your bearings straight, you realized that the sun wasn’t even blaring
through the windows in his home in England. Either that or it was raining, but
you didn’t hear anything.