It's all right to kiss me anytime you feel like it

Lindsay. 22. THG fanfic writer and reader extraordinaire. Currently whiling away my college years here on tumblr and obsessing over Everlark in my spare time. Hit me up anytime! OfPearlsandShoelaces on ff.net and AO3.

[lynx-irl]

Pages to blossom #8: After the fire, Ashes remain by AlwaysEverlark, chapter 1

As a reward for my pearl level tier patrons on Patreon I draw sketches each month ;) and this one is for the first chapter of angsty story by @alwayseverlark (we will make sketches for each chapter 😊) and I really love this moment, angsty one, ugh. And also Peeta holding a tray! Yummy 🤤.

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[coryoslot]

BIG NEWS!!!

[frostingpeetaswounds]

“I like to watch his hands as he works.” - Katniss Everdeen

[doctorkepner]

Drabble Queeeen, can you indulge me with a scene post mj where Peeta and Katniss are in their early stages of being together as a couple, and Peeta second guesses himself, thinking Katniss is only with him because he's who she got stuck with in the games, was the star crossed lovers, etc. Katniss maybe tells him how much she kept tabs on him before the games, not even realizing what those feelings might have been at the time and how this would have happened anyways... take it anywhere you want!

smut is always welcome too, not ever gonna say no to that

Sometimes, on rare occasions like today, I'll wake up before Peeta. These days are my favorite, because I like watching him sleep.

I'm lying on my side this morning, trailing one finger down his face - gently enough not to wake him. His eyelashes, those wildly long eyelashes, grace his cheeks, and his lips are pouty and slack.

I can't resist kissing them, so I don't try. I give him a small, soft kiss and then sit up, stroking his hair a few times before pressing one last kiss to his face and getting out of bed.

I haven't been to the woods for a while, and the morning looks like it will be beautiful. There's no excuse not to go out today, so I find the right clothes, lace up my boots, and shrug on my father's old jacket.

I was right - the day is clear and the air is crisp, and I fill my lungs with fresh air on the way to the woods. Once I'm there, I spend a while casing the area before I figure out exactly what I want to target.

It's easier to let my mind go blank out here than it is anywhere else. At home, things have been rocky lately. Dr. Aurelius is adjusting the dosage of Peeta's medication, and it's affecting him - and some days are worse than others.

He doesn't always exhibit symptoms in the way of episodes. Some days, he's so low and depressed that he can't get out of bed - and those days scare me the most. Those days, his behavior reminds me of my mother, and it's all I can do not to spiral. I haven't, though. I've been steady, strong for Peeta when he needs me to be.

After all, he was strong for me for a long, long time. I'll gladly take my turn.

But there's nothing wrong with needing space, that's what Dr. Aurelius says. That's why the woods are so therapeutic for me.

The sun is high in the sky by the time I head home, and I smile all the way there. I'm looking forward to seeing Peeta; as I walk back, I wonder what he's up to, what he'll want to eat for lunch, if he'll come work in the garden with me today. I'm excited by the smallest things in life now. Talking to Peeta is one of them. We talk every day, but I still look forward to it.

This must be what love is.

I'm still smiling to myself when I walk in the door. I set the game that I shot in its specific refrigerator so I can prepare it later, then take my gear off by the door.

Peeta is standing at the island, preparing a batch of frosted cookies that someone from town ordered yesterday afternoon. He's concentrated, his blonde eyebrows set low, so I don't say anything when I come in. I wash my hands at the sink, take off my outer shirt, then wrap my arms around him from behind - as gently as I can.

I missed him. I want to touch him. But when I do, he freezes.

"Are you okay?" I murmur, my cheek squished against him. I rub his stomach slowly, then give him a squeeze.

He exhales from his nose, then leans forward to continue his work without answering. I shrug off his reaction and kiss his back through his shirt, then press my forehead between his shoulder blades.

"I missed you," I say.

He lets out another short breath and says, "You don't have to do that."

I frown, confused. "Do what?" I ask.

"That," he says, then stands up straight and shrugs my arms off of him. "Be all... like this. With me."

I furrow my eyebrows and lean against the island, trying to get him to look at me. He won't, though. He keeps working on the cookies and doesn't lift his eyes.

"I'm not being 'like' anything," I say. "I'm just happy to see you."

"Mm-hmm," he says. He's blinking rapidly. That's a main tell of his that I've grown to know - he is not doing well today.

As if his attitude isn't enough of a clue.

I try to shrug it off, though. Sometimes, he can climb out of the bad mental place if I just pretend it's not happening. Then, it's almost like it really isn't. "I needed to see you," I say. "There's nothing wrong with that."

"Oh, you needed to," he says.

"Yeah," I say. "I need you all the time."

"I don't think you need me," he says, shaking his head. He's still blinking very fast as he tries to keep working on the cookies. His hands aren't steady anymore, though. Pretty soon, he'll get frustrated with himself and stop.

"Peeta, you don't know what you're saying," I say.

"Yes, I do," he says. On a dime, his demeanor has changed again. Instead of surly and mad, he's now on the verge of tears. His eyes are glassy and he's clenching his jaw to keep his chin from trembling. This is what he was trying to hold back. "You got stuck with me. Back then, back in the Games. We were the 'star-crossed lovers.' It was our gig. Well, you're free to give it up now."

"Peeta," I say. "Look at me."

He doesn't. With one swift movement of my arm, I snatch the icing bag out of his hands and set it on the counter. He snaps to attention, irritated, but I push the bag out of his reach. He has no choice but to look at me now.

"You think you've got it all figured out? You don't know the half of it," I say. "This started before the Games, long before. Don't you remember when you saved my life when we were eleven?" I say. "No one in the District spared food for us - but you did. You didn't have it to spare, but you spared it." I cross my arms over my chest. "And you claimed to watch me, but I watched you, too. I always knew where you were, what you were doing, who your friends were. I kept tabs on you. I didn't know what it meant then - I didn't think it meant anything. But it did."

My eyes are hot, so I swipe at them with both hands to get rid of the tears. The new just replace the old, though, so I let them come.

"This," I say, motioning between us, "would've happened anyway."

The expression in his eyes is so hard to decipher. I don't know if what I said got through to him, or if he's still in that negative, bristly place.

Peeta and I have lived together for the better part of four years now. We do everything together. We cook together, eat together, fix up our house together. We sleep together, laugh together, and have sex nearly every night.

I know how he feels about me, and most of the time, I think he knows how I feel about him. But never, not once, have we said those three important words to each other. And I think it's time.

"Peeta," I say, "I love you."

His chin drops to his chest then, and his hands come up to cover his face. When I see his shoulders shaking, I know that he finally let the dam break, so I wrap my arms around him and hold him tight.

I'll be the anchor. I'll remind him who he is, who I am, and what he is to me. No matter how many times he needs to hear it, I'll tell him.

Because that's what love is, I think.

[escapinghades]

I will never get over the fact that Katniss picks Peeta. 

Because in itself it’s so powerful. 

She picks Peeta not because he is better than Gale. Or because he is better with her than Gale. 

She choses him because he has something Gale cannot give her.

Hope

And no it’s not that Gale can’t give her hope. He certainly can. 

But it’s the kind of hope Peeta gives her. 

Peeta represents a peaceful hope. Understanding what you’ve been through and trying to move on and make the best out of what you have. 

Gale represents a rougher kind of hope. He represents the battle that you go through to get to it. The anger and the pain.

And though Peeta has those traits. He has come to terms with the fact that he cannot change what has happened to the world. But he knows that he can help make it better by planting little seeds of hope as he goes along. 

Because Gale wants to just uproot a tree and plant it in his garden. 

But if you do that you never get to see the plant grow. And it could die because it’s not used to where it is. 

Peeta represents hope. 

LITERALLY 

He is the hope. 

Katniss says that he gives her a peace that Gale could never. 

She chose him because he will help make her a better person.

Which is so amazing. 

Because Peeta makes her feel safe. 

But not safe from the world. 

Safe from herself.

Safe from her worries and struggles. Safe from her fear. 

He grants her a peace of mind that cannot be given with roughness.

But through gentle progression. 

And I think thats beautiful

So that is why I think Peeta was the best person Katniss could have decided to spend the rest of her life with.  

[uncawanwo]

don’t judge a person by their looks, judge them by their opinion on peeta mellark

[saintsoup]

for the 80th year in a row, the song of the summer is Everytime We Touch by Cascada

[djdangerlove]

Here. Have kudos on that fanfic you wrote in your head while you were in the shower and never typed it out. When I recover from the brilliance of it, I’ll come back to leave a review.

[rosegardeninwinter]

for @katnissmellarkkk, who asked for some Bridgerton + Everlark (with my own spin on both book and show)

No sooner had the Viscount Mellark flung the door to his study open and cloistered himself inside than the golden doorknob smacked against the wall with force and a disheveled Miss Everdeen marched in after him.

“What are you playing at?” she snarled in a decidedly unfeminine tone, “You invite my mother and Primrose to dine with your family, giving all pretense of being on the verge of proposing to my sister, only to raise a toast to her future marriage prospects? Such cruelty is beyond the pale, my lord, even for you!” 

Peeta waved a distracted, angry hand at her, and lunged for his wine decanter. It was true he had been about to propose to Miss Primrose, and it was true she would have made a fine bride for him: a sweet and soft-spoken girl with sunny gold curls falling about her light brown shoulders. Yes, she would have made a fine wife, and a beautiful one: but not the one he wanted. When it came to it, when it came to standing up at the head of the table, and looking down into those placid blue eyes, all the while knowing the sharp silver ones were on him, he could not bring the words forth. Could not lie to innocent Miss Primrose, could not pretend he had no feelings for the infuriating Miss Katniss when, on the contrary, every bloody fiber of his body ached for her. 

Keep reading

[paintedpeeta]

your most gentlest easiest headcanons? 💛

this has been in my ask box for a lil while, but i was missing everlark and now i’m doing a reread (i forgot how heavy these books were like whew…for YA fiction it is a LOT) so i hope you don’t mind that it’s taken me so long to answer ❤️

first of all, a little moment that stuck out for me in the first book was katniss saying she often has mint tea after dinner at home. it’s such a small, domestic part of a routine but one i like to think she carries on after the war - and one that peeta adopts too. they share the cooking duties when it comes to dinner, but she always makes the tea. she learns how to make his perfect cup, as well as she can make her own, and the dishes from dinner will wait (until he caves and does them before they go to bed) as they almost always wind up snuggled up on the couch together while they drink it.

they both like to watch the other sleep. not in a creepy way, just after one of them has woken from a nightmare or just can’t doze off - seeing the other sleeping peacefully in the safety of their home is enough to calm the nerves and help them relax. if they’re ever caught in their observations, the other usually just pulls them down beside them to urge them to sleep. (peeta is a little more prone to teasing her when she gets caught, but she has her moments of making fun of him too just for good measure).

he likes to heat her slippers by the fire for her. and her socks. and sometimes her pyjamas. although katniss is so pragmatic and capable, she does seem to enjoy simple comforts throughout the series. nothing too crazy, and i think it would still take some time for her to feel like she deserved any little bits of luxury but that’s where peeta comes in. because he wants to pamper her and take care of her, and in the grand scheme of things is it really too indulgent to let him warm up her bath towels before she uses them, or tuck her up when she goes for a nap? at first she reconciles with it because it keeps peeta happy, but i think she’d grow to love all of the little inexpensive but thoughtful things he does for her.

she cuts his hair for him. it’s something her mother used to do for her father, and i’d imagine it was something she had to do for prim and herself when her mother was ill. one day, early on while they’re growing back together he mentions that he needs a haircut because he feels like it’s too long. she offers to do it for him because he doesn’t know how, and that day he lets her cut his hair at the kitchen sink. it’s far from perfect, but it’s tidy and keeps the curls from his eyes. her face is kind of flushed the whole time because the act feels so intimate and familiar, but from then on it becomes a routine that she does for him every couple of weeks.

and on the topic of hair, he just loves to play with hers. while they work on the memory book together and he has a hand free, while she’s reading on the couch curled up beside him, while she’s falling asleep with her head on his chest… he just always wants to be playing with her hair (partially for his own self and partially because it relaxes her). he braids and unbraids it, winds loose strands round his fingers, scratches her scalp because he knows it makes her shut her eyes everytime.

he has a bad habit of putting his cold hands on her when he just gets home from work on winter days. sometimes he doesn’t think and it’s totally by accident, other times he’s trying to be a nuisance and slips them up the back of her shirt when she comes to greet him in the hall. she gets her own back when she snuggles up against him in the night, putting her cold feet on his good leg and almost making him jump out of his skin.

and all of the massages. there’s plenty of opportunity for sore muscles in their daily tasks (hunting in the woods and hauling around sacks of flour) (and also, secretly some faked or exaggerated injuries) so the other has to massage the painful area and take care of them. particularly when she’s pregnant, he’s always offering to rub her back or her hips or whatever’s hurting most.

[river-of-wine]

Ten years ago today we met them for the first time

[little-lynx]

THE FATHER

💔👟

in honor of my husband's dad who passed away this Wednesday

[lemonluvgirl]

#9 Drabble Prompt: "We're not just friends.....”

For @peeta-pocket and @pookieh who both asked for #9 

Peeta and I have been whiling away the hours in quiet companionship ever since we got back. 

We’re two burned out shells trying to find a way to breath life back into our fragile casings. We make sure the other eats, and showers, and goes through the motions. It’s not quite living, but its better than what we’d be doing alone. 

Lately we’ve added a new item to the list of things we tackle together. 

Sleep.

Peeta and I have resumed sharing a bed like all those nights where the only things keeping us from cracking under all the pressure was the press of the other’s warm body to keep the nightmares at bay. 

Its familiar. Its comforting. Its confusing. And lately when there’s no subtle breeze to blow the steamy heat that radiates off us as we lay huddled together in the night, its been terrifying. For the both of us. 

But probably for entirely different reasons. 

I worry that the aching, gnawing hunger that settles low in the pit of my stomach each night, no matter how much of Peeta’s delicious food I stuff myself with, is a return to what I experienced with Peeta on the beach during the Quell. I worry that he’ll hear me one night, calling his name not in terror but in longing. 

I worry that I’ll screw everything up between us. Again. 

And Peeta, sweet, unerringly optimistic Peeta, is still fighting off visions of me torturing him, killing his family, taking away everything he’s ever loved. 

He tries to downplay it. But I hear the way he moans my name plaintively in his sleep. I know all his nightmares are about me. 

So I keep my mouth shut, and my thighs pressed together and I pray to whatever higher power there maybe that I can just forget my own selfish desires JUST THIS ONCE. 

Because Peeta deserves my friendship. He deserves whatever part of myself I can spare. I resolve to bury my inconsequential urges. I dig my hands in my pockets whenever he’s around. I try not to stare at his eyelashes. And whenever I get the itch to lean in and kiss him like I want to live inside his mouth and never stop, I bite my tongue and count to 30. Or 40. or 100. Whatever number I have to climb to until the feeling passes .

Its been working out great so far. 

So when he sets his fork down at dinner and fixes me with serious look and asks me, “Katniss, what are we to each other?” I’m completely caught off guard. 

I almost choke on my bite of roasted fessant. 

“What?” I ask, once I’ve washed down the piece of food with half a glass of water. 

Peeta for his part, seems to barely have noticed I choked. He’s still looking at me with that unreadable look that makes me want to simultaneously want to run for cover and also mount him. 

“What. Are. We. To. Each. Other?” He asks again, slowly and deliberately, as if I was a child. 

I’ve begun scowling before I even realize it. 

“Don’t give me that look. Just answer the question Katniss.” Peeta snaps and I have to swallow past the dry lump in my throat. 

I know where this is coming from. Haymitch had made a few comments in passing about how we should just officially move in together since we’re never apart for more than a few hours each day anyways. Not to mention we’ve been spending all our nights together for the past few months. 

Peeta had gotten a strangely pensive look on his face when Haymitch said that. And he’s been weirdly quiet for the rest of the day. 

If I could march over to his house and shoot Haymitch right now I probably would. But it still wouldn’t get me out of this sticky predicament with Peeta. 

He waits, seemingly patiently for my answer. But I’m terrified beyond all reason that whatever I say will be the wrong thing. 

“What do you want to be?” I say finally, deflecting and throwing the question back at him. I can’t deny that my heart is beating faster with fear and hope alike. 

Peeta purses his lips, and his mouth twists slightly. I can see he’s getting upset. 

“I asked you first Katniss. Why can’t you just be honest with me? For once!” He asks, standing up abruptly, he’s breathing hard, when he moves to grab the back of the kitchen chair I know that despite my best intentions I’ve fucked it up anyway. 

I hear him muttering under his breath about how I always lie, and how he can’t trust me. 

Tears roll, unbidden down my face as I watch him try to reign the flash back in. 

“Not real! Not real! Peeta, I’m sorry! Please, please I’ll answer any question that you have! I wasn’t trying to lie to you I swear!” I cry, reaching for him before I think better of it. He catches me around the waist and wraps his thick arms around me, holding me to him so tightly it’s borderline painful. 

His pupils are doing that strange thing where they dilate to pinpricks and blow up huge again. I feel my heart thundering out of control as I stare up at him helplessly. 

I could scream right now, and maybe Haymitch would come running, if he hasn’t already drunk himself senseless by this time. 

I could try to twist out of his hold. 

I could headbutt him. 

The options flow through my mind in flickering images that last about a millisecond before I discard them. 

In the end I do nothing. 

I just stand there trembling for so many reasons while his arms cage me to his strong muscular body, the least of which being fear. 

As debased as it sounds, I can feel my body wake up in ways it only ever does when Peeta is close to me. 

I stare up at him, my lips parted to speak, but unable to find the right words. The only thing I’m capable of doing is lowering my head in shame to hide against his shoulder. 

My touch causes Peeta to shudder. 

“Just tell me what we are Katniss. I can’t take the uncertainty anymore.” He says in an exhausted voice. Its his tone alone that lets me know the majority of the danger has passed. Peeta only ever sounds this tired after successfully fighting off an episode. 

“We’re friends Peeta.” I say weakly, hoping that at the very least this title will be enough to keep with me, but not too much to scare him away. I feel the traitorous tears well up in my eyes again, and only barely manage to choke back my regretful sob. 

Peeta freezes, becoming rigid against me. 

Slowly, very tentatively I feel his fingers reach down to graze my jaw. I tense, waiting for his hands to wrap around my neck, but they never do. Instead he tilts my chin up so that I have to look him in the eyes. 

And I guess he sees more there than I ever intended him to, because the next moment his lips come crashing down over mine. 

And its so strange because even though the force of our kiss is cutting off my air supply, I feel like I can finally breathe for the first time in months. 

I practically sob into his mouth, when he brushes his tongue against mine. 

Peeta pulls away, only for a second,  and I whimper at the loss of his warm lips. 

“We’re not just friends, and you fucking know it.“ He tells me right before he scoops me up and I wind my legs around his waist. 

I sigh at the feeling of him hard against my stomach as he carries me up the stairs to the bedroom. 

“Definitely not friends.” I tell him when he lays me down across the bed. 

[am2c]

“You're back,” I say.

“Dr. Aurelius wouldn't let me leave the Capitol until yesterday,” Peeta says. “By the way, he said to tell you he can't keep pretending he's treating you forever. You have to pick up the phone.”

He looks well. Thin and covered with burn scars like me, but his eyes have lost that clouded, tortured look. He's frowning slightly, though, as he takes me in. I make a halfhearted effort to push my hair out of my eyes and realize it's matted into clumps. I feel defensive. “What are you doing?”

“I went to the woods this morning and dug these up. For her,” he says. “I thought we could plant them along the side of the house.”

I look at the bushes, the clods of dirt hanging from their roots, and catch my breath as the word rose registers. I'm about to yell vicious things at Peeta when the full name comes to me. Not plain rose but evening primrose. The flower my sister was named for. I give Peeta a nod of assent and hurry back into the house, locking the door behind me.

I was commissioned by @oakfarmer12 to do this scene ☺️☺️

[saltpepperbeard]

Because I’m always tilting my head to the side to watch this kiss…

[notanislander]

Choosing vs. Settling

Do you want to know why I think Katniss “chooses” Peeta at the end of Mockingjay, and doesn’t “settle” for Peeta? 

Because of all that time she planned to kill herself, when she finally had the opportunity, she didn’t. She was sent back to District 12 and left to her own devises. But she was “waiting for something”. When Peeta returns, she comes back to life. That’s how I know she chose Peeta. 

[seaquell]

You do love him. I’m not saying in what way. Maybe you don’t know yourself. But anyone paying attention could see how much you care about him.