IDo y'all happen to have lists for fics from f4lls? I looked around but couldn't fine one and am interested in reading as many as were made public since I missed these events
Hi d1163
F4LLS was a multi-fandom charity event run for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society.
We don’t currently have masterlists for the Hunger Games F4LLS stories, but we do have a list of those stories for 2013, 2014 and 2015 and can see if it is possible to create masterlists for them. Unfortunately, on first glance, more than a few of them have been deleted…. but leave it with us. ;)
In the meantime, I have listed the stories below this cut, and you can start to look them up yourself?
2013
Amber Kay - For the WinAmelia day - Take Care (Part Two) Anais117 - Find My Way: The Letter one-shot Baronesskika - As Pretty as a Piece of Flesh (Part One) Court81981 - All for One (Prologue) Court81981 - Good Fences DandelionSunset - Here is the Place Where I Love You one-shot DustWriter - Truth Be Told (sequel to Truth or Dare) FalafelWaffel - Placebo Effect one-shot FamousFremus - To Those Who Wait HGRomance - Rebel: Five Years Later Jazzfic - I Want, I Want one-shot Loveleee - And We Tumble To The Ground (And Then You Say) Marycontrary82 - The Thirteenth Soldier (Prologue) MTK4FUN - Pour Toujours (For Always) one-shot PassionatelyCurious - Once…In This District PeetasAndHerondales - Livin’ on a Prayer (Sequel to “Not So Chaste”) Phoenix Refrain - Between Us one-shot Prisspanem - Magic Mellark one-shot SassyEverlarking - Unexpected Confessions one-shot Sohypothetically - Brighter Than Angels one-shot Sponsormusings - Drifting Between Grey and Blue ThirtySomething - Seven Days one-shot Wollaston and PompeiiGraffiti - The Beginning of the End WritingForHugs - Nothing’s Lost If You Have A Map
2014
Acciograce – What Will Be Will Be (A “For the Movies” Outtake) Alatariel Gildaen – Even Artichokes Have Hearts Ameiko – Coming Up Roses Anais117 – Find My Way: Prologue Annieoakley1 – If I Have YouBaronesskika - 26.2Baronesskika - I’m Gonna Bruise You (An “All the President’s Men” Outtake) Court81981 - For the Crown Dazzlingjosh – A Memorable Journey Dracoisalooker76 - Forelsket ETnRL4L - Click Europa22 – The Day FamousFremus – Writer’s Block - Extended Cut Fnurfnur – Feeling Something Girl-aflame – The Hunter Gozips28 – The Eyes of My Savior HauntedSilver – Don’t Let Go Yet Hutchhitched – Always Rivals Izzy Samson – Duty and Devotion Jazzfic – What Normal Really Is JennaGill and Wollaston – Goodnight Pearl Justme-kt – One Night, Forever Jypzrose – Yeah, Yeah (Bonfire) Kaceywithak – Of Chasing Quaffles and Katniss Everdeen, Part 2 Lauralulubee – The New Breed Loueze – Waiting for Midnight Modernlifeofash – Oh Where Do We Begin? MrsBonniemellark – Katniss Everdeen and the Half-Blood Baker MTK4FUN – It Takes A Village Naqia – Love in the Times of Social Media Norbertsmom - Mockingjay Manor Offmyhead – Before & After: The Untold Stories of the Victors of Panem Ohalaskayoung – Forbidden Fruit Ohmakemeahercules – Steadfast Waltz OMGitsgreen – Unbelievers Oywiththepeetaalready - Tracking the Ten PassionatelyCurious – Body Wave PeetasAndHerondales - Fate Phoenix Refrain – The Girl Who Felled Giants Prisspanem – The Hunger Game SassyEverlarking – Clocks Shesasurvivor - So We Beat On SoThere – After Hours Sponsormusings - Crossfire Suk-fong – Nirvana ThirtySomething – A Good Man Titania522 – The Ivory Maiden
2015
Dracoisalooker76 - If I Should Die Before I Wake FanfcAllergy – Godfather FanfcAllergy & RoseFyre – Fractured Fairy Tale Wedding Greenlark – Fire Hutchhitched – Time’s Up JLala – Fated to Love Juliet’s Shadow – Annie and the Shark: 70th Hunger Games Mina Rivera – Ensnare MTK4FUN – To Live And Learn PassionatelyCurious – Lay Me By Your Side RedHeadedFlame - Once Ronja – Make a Wish SassyEverlarking – Comfort Shesasurvivor - Slumber On, Baby Dear Titania522 – Six Weeks Trippy41 – Turning Wheels (Part One)
Hey! One of your fics, Forever Rivals, was a part of Stumped Sunday. The link they gave was the first chapter (which was your F4lls submission). Any chance you continued it? It’s quite good.
Hi! Thanks for the ask. I’m so glad you enjoyed Always Rivals. Sadly, I haven’t continued it yet. I have it outlined and the chapters all planned out, but I’ve gotten caught up in other projects. However, I will finish it–hopefully, this fall. I hope you’ll check back with me after @mores2sl is over. I’ll have a better idea of when I can finish it then.
It’s December, which means it’s time for F4LLS stories to post publicly! Enjoy!
Rating: T
Disclaimer: The Hunger Games characters belong to Suzanne Collins and do not belong to me.
Summary: Is it ever too late for soulmates?
Author’s note: My sincere thanks to Fandom4LLS for organizing such an important fundraiser to fight cancer (a disease I hate with my entire being). A huge thank you to Jackie (@jennagill) and Lisa (@myusernamehere) for their beta skills, Caryn (@papofglencoe) for pre-reading, and Any (@loving-mellark) for the gorgeous banner.
This story is dedicated to all those who want to and can't.
I was ten years old the first time I had a maternal instinct, but I didn’t realize that’s what it was at the time. All I knew was that my heart clutched when I witnessed my younger sister Prim crying over something that really mattered, and I knew I’d do almost anything to never have to witness it again.
The good news was that I wouldn’t have to. The bad news was that Prim would never weep for the same reason because we only had one father, and she was crying because he died—killed in a work accident, an explosion that made national news.
Everything changed after that. My mom broke down, and I became an adult way too soon.
That’s probably why I convinced myself I didn’t really want kids. I grew up fairly normally with one sibling and my parents happily married. I had it in my head that I’d do the same as my role models. I’d fall in love in my early twenties, get married, find a career, and have a couple of children. That was “normal,” right? That’s what the standard was in my life and in the lives of those around me.
When my father passed and I unwittingly and unwillingly became the head of the household, my responsibilities multiplied. I should have been playing in the meadow with my sister, catching raindrops and snowflakes on my tongue. Instead, I learned to balance a checkbook, hunt deer and rabbits in the woods on our farm, and plant a garden to supplement our food supply. I learned to cook and treated the burns I received with aloe vera plants my mother grew in the kitchen window.
I resented all of it. All of it except Prim, that is. I adored her. She was the only person I knew I really loved after my father’s death, and that shaped me more than I could have imagined at the time.
The junior high and high school years were hard. I mean, they’re difficult for almost everyone unless you’re one of the popular crowd, and I wasn’t really. Well-known, probably. Definitely notorious when my bristly personality became even more abrupt during puberty, but people didn’t really seem to like me all that much. I was too standoffish, too serious, too different. Maybe I was too hard on myself at the time because now I wonder if there was also a little bit of admiration as well, but that didn’t cross my mind during the hardest years of my life.
I had two real friends back then. One was Madge. Her father was the superintendent of schools, and she got a lot of flak for her good grades and success in a number of extracurricular activities. She was very smart and incredibly driven, but none of our classmates wanted to admit it. I guess it’s easier to unfairly discredit someone than it is to celebrate that person’s talents. What most people didn’t know was that she spent her free time helping her very busy father take care of her clinically depressed mother, a woman who survived the trauma of her twin’s murder by self-medicating. Madge’s life wasn’t any easier than anyone else’s in spite of her father’s position.
My best friend Gale was the only person who really understood me while I was stuck in my hometown. Our fathers had worked together at the coal power plant, and he’d been forced into a similar situation as I had. Unlike my remaining parent, his mom continued to work when she became a widow, but he had more siblings than I did which meant more mouths to feed. Social Security and all the other methods of assistance couldn’t begin to make life okay for either of our families.
Gale became my confidant and partner. He couldn’t keep a plant alive to save his life, but he could set snares that always resulted in fresh game even if we couldn’t bring something down with our bows or guns. Hunting season restrictions hampered our ability to provide as much as we wanted to for our families.
When Gale graduated and went to work, I saw him a lot less. It was strange because I didn’t really miss him so much as I missed the way things had been, the comfort I received from a familiar person and voice. I missed the way he tugged my braid to tease me but also to be able to communicate silently when we were in the woods together. I even romanticized his annoying nickname for me—Catnip, as if I would be named after that kind of plant.
Of course, I still remember how scared and worried I was when I got the phone call that he’d been injured on the job. He worked at a meatpacking plant, which seemed terribly ironic to me, and his boss ordered him to work even though his equipment wasn’t functioning properly. When I got the news that he’d been hurt, I rushed to the hospital to be by his side. Maybe maternal instinct number two was the reason I was so upset. He needed to be cared for, and I wanted to be the one to do it. Somehow through that experience, we tricked ourselves into thinking we were in love.
Tragedies do seem to be a common factor in my maternal instinct rearing its head, now that I think about it—my father’s death as a cause for my adoration for Prim and Gale’s accident as an impetus for my devotion to him. He recovered quickly and was back on the job within a few weeks, but we were well on our way to a serious relationship that lasted several years when he clocked in for the first time after being hurt.
Now, I know what you’re thinking. Trust me, I do. Gale’s an attractive guy. He was then, and he still is from the pictures I’ve seen of him online and from members of both our families. I’ve been told I’m not the most unattractive person either, and we both certainly had enough fire in our temperaments that no one would have been surprised if things got…uh, a little hot, if you will.
Somehow, though, that never happened between us. I mean, things happened. I’m not a prude, and Gale was a typical early twenty-something male. We made out a lot, got naked together, tried pretty much everything, but somehow we never quite went “all the way.”
All the way. It’s such a strange reference for sex. Isn’t all the way really a euphemism for an orgasm? So, why does that phrase only apply to vaginal intercourse? I’ve never understood it, but that’s not really the point, I guess.
Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that we never did consummate our relationship with that kind of sex despite the other stuff we did. At the time, I was gripped with a fear of getting pregnant that was so oppressive, I could barely breathe when he tried to… Well, you know. I didn’t have a problem with his anatomy, as long as he didn’t ever try to stick it inside anything other than my hand or mouth. I knew we were safe that way, and that’s all I really cared about in the long run. My maternal instincts didn’t extend to potential unwanted children.
I think Gale always hoped I’d change my mind, but we’d been together for almost eight years before he realized I wasn’t going to budge on the situation. He wanted kids—despite the hardships of his life and the almost certain cycle of poverty into which we’d fall if we brought children into the world. He seemed to think being a dad would be worth it, but I was still too scarred from being forced to play mom to my little sister and my own mother to want to actually be one. I wanted off food stamps and welfare. I didn’t want to need that assistance for the rest of my life, even though I was grateful for it.
Maybe I was naïve. It’s not like other people in my situation haven’t been able to enjoy good lives and raise a family, but I didn’t want to risk it. I didn’t want to have children, and I didn’t love Gale enough to change my mind—if that’s even how it works.
When he realized I was serious, he regretfully broke it off, but that didn’t really end our relationship. We continued to seek each other out when the physical urges got to be too much. We still didn’t sleep together, but we spent a lot of time making sure the other was happy. Again, I know it sounds strange and certainly not the norm, but it worked for us. Until he found someone else, that is.
You should have seen him when he discovered her. His face lit up like a two year old who’s just been presented with an entire birthday cake, and he fell hard. It only took him a month to move past the pain he said I caused him and propose to her. A year later, they were pregnant, and I sighed in relief that it wasn’t me.
I was happy for him. Really, I was, and I was also happy for me. I felt like I was in charge of myself. I felt like I had it all figured out. I didn’t really want any more than I had. I was daughter to a mom who’d finally returned to herself; my little sister was about to graduate college and was planning her own wedding to a really nice guy; and I had a career I was proud of and could enjoy for a few years before I needed any further schooling.
There was no reason at all for me to feel a tiny glimmer of sadness at Prim’s wedding. I was thrilled to be her maid of honor and see her happy beyond words, but then she got pregnant too. And then so did our only female cousin. One by one the male cousins married as well, and they and their wives had babies. I was halfway through my master’s program and seven years removed from a relationship with my only boyfriend before I realized I was the only one still single on both my mom’s and dad’s side.
Still, that didn’t bother me. I enjoyed my life—living on my own, traveling when I wasn’t working or going to school, spending time with friends, and loving on my sister’s kid as he learned to walk on shaky toddler legs.
Strangely enough, it wasn’t my nephew or any of my cousin’s kids who got to me. Instead, it was a detergent commercial that had a young child, maybe four or five years old, with wavy blonde hair, gorgeous, deep set blue eyes, and a lopsided grin that captivated me. I sat on the couch as the child actor ran to his mother, who picked him up and spun him around in a shaft of light. Something pitched in my heart that day, and I felt the third and strongest maternal pull I had yet experienced.
I’m embarrassed to admit that I spent the next several years observing men who could have been that child’s father and imagining being with each of them. The solitary nights spurred a lot of frustration, and I tossed and turned with dreams of strong arms and locks of golden hair flashing through my sub-consciousness. I lost count of the times I woke up with my thighs pressed tightly together and my chest heaving with breathy moans.
My attitude took a turn for the worse about that time. I grew increasingly irritable and fought bouts of anger. I couldn’t pinpoint anything particular that was wrong, but I knew I wasn’t happy. Instead of enjoying my time alone, I became sullen if I stayed more than one night at home by myself. Instead of looking forward to spending time with my sister and other relatives at family gatherings, I dreaded going because I knew I’d get the third degree about whether or not I’d met anyone. One of my particularly clueless aunts actually asked me if I had “anyone picked out yet.” Apparently she thought men could be chosen the same way one buys groceries—off a shelf.
Months passed, and then a year turned into two. I had entered my early thirties by that point, and I’d never been so sexually frustrated. It wasn’t as if I didn’t have opportunities to scratch the itch, but somehow I couldn’t ever quite engage in a one night stand. It wasn’t the sex I really wanted as much as I longed for a connection with another human being. Okay, I wanted both, but I knew a quickie or two wouldn’t ever be enough.
I didn’t even realize how bad things had gotten until finally one of my co-workers, a smart-mouthed woman named Johanna, took me out for a drink after a particularly rough week at work. She didn’t mince words, and I still blush when I remember her bluntness.
“When’s the last time you got laid?” she demanded, and I almost spit out my drink in surprise.
“What—what do you mean?” I sputtered through a coughing fit.
“What do you mean, ‘what do I mean,’ brainless?” she growled. “I mean, when’s the last time you got off? You’re pissy as hell all the time, and it seems like a lot of stress to me. When’s the last time you were flat on your back with your feet in the air, holding onto your ankles with a man pounding into you?”
I sat there with my mouth gaping and the drink forgotten in my hand until she snapped her fingers in front of my eyes.
“What? Are you into girls instead?” she challenged curtly, and I blushed a deep red.
“No! No, I’m not into girls,” I mumbled in embarrassment. “I like guys.”
“Then find yourself one. Soon. Your attitude sucks, and I’m tired of you biting my head off every day.”
Johanna’s words didn’t upset me so much as they made me think, and it’s dangerous when I do that. Too much time in my own head allows me to wallow, and that’s what I did.
A month or so later, she pulled me aside a few days before Christmas and handed me a small box wrapped in cheerful candy cane striped paper.
“Don’t open it until you get home, and put it to good use, brainless. I can’t believe you don’t already have one of these,” she scoffed before heading out the door for her holiday break.
When I got home, I peeled back the paper and was shocked to find a bright green vibrator with a dozen or so batteries. I sat on the couch for several minutes before I could figure out if I was grateful Johanna cared enough about me to want me to feel, uh, relieved or something, or if I was humiliated beyond belief. I think the answer was both with the scale leaning much heavier toward the latter option.
It took several more days before I took the present out of its packaging, but I didn’t regret it once I did. A whole new world opened up for me, but I still wasn’t really happy. Johanna’s gift may have eased my cravings, but it didn’t make me any less lonely.
It took me that long, almost a decade, to realize my baby sister getting married hit me harder than I thought it had. Looking back now, I can admit that, but I sure didn’t want to when I was going through it. I think maybe I’d tried to convince myself that I didn’t really want to find someone, despite my intense loneliness. It made things easier that way, so I repressed my unhappiness and told myself that I enjoyed being on my own. And I did. That wasn’t necessarily a lie; it just wasn’t the entire truth either.
Prim was so happy, and the love she and her husband displayed for each other warmed everyone around them as the years passed. I certainly didn’t want to admit I was jealous or acknowledge the pang of despair I felt when I attended events with them and realized I might not ever get the chance to participate in those things with a husband and kids of my own.
Despite their marital bliss, several years passed before Prim gave birth to her second child, my niece. My nephew had just entered that awkward stage all boys go through before they hit puberty, but Prim’s daughter smelled like Heaven when I put my nose to her soft skin. I wanted to be happy, but instead I spiraled further. I was 38 at that point, and when I held that beautiful baby in my arms, I felt a pull so intense that I cried myself to sleep that night.
I wondered at the time if I was a horrible person, if the jealousy and anger and sadness I felt toward my sister and her happiness meant that I didn’t deserve what she had. It’s amazing how easy it is to beat oneself up when faced with real human emotions, and that’s what I felt. I was stripped to the bare bones of my humanity and finally accepted that I did want to be with someone I loved, and I wanted to have children with them. I wanted my own family, and I wanted to be a mother that my child never resented the way I had my own.
The problem was that I didn’t have any way to make that happen. I’d barely dated during my thirties, not because I didn’t want to but because no one really seemed to be compatible to my lifestyle. The men who did approach me came off as brash and arrogant, and I couldn’t stand to link myself to them platonically, let alone romantically or physically.
My friends and family tried to be supportive. I can’t fault them for wanting me to be okay, and I knew I wasn’t. I felt like life had passed me by. I had a career and people who loved me. In other words, I had everything that should have made me happy except a life with someone who loved me the way I wanted to be loved.
I spent the next two years going through the motions. I got up every day and did my job; I spent time with people who cared about me; I traveled; I revisited my love of archery by frequenting local shooting ranges; I signed up for singing lessons after having stopped exercising my voice after my father was killed. I did everything I knew how to do to fill the gaping hole I felt in my life.
Thankfully, some of it worked. Some days, even some weeks, I was happy. I smiled more than I scowled, which wasn’t necessarily my standard behavior, and even convinced the most cynical people in my life that I felt fine. Even Johanna thought I was doing okay, until she realized I wasn’t. She approached me at work a month or two after I celebrated my fortieth birthday and made my world stop.
“Hey, brainless,” she teased somewhat affectionately as she stopped by my desk. “Do you have time for a drink tonight? I have some news.”
I narrowed my eyes at her and nodded. “Sure. The Seam? Meet you at the elevator at five.”
It wasn’t until we were settled into a booth at our favorite bar and Johanna ordered a glass of water instead of her normal gin and tonic that I felt a spark of panic in the pit of my stomach.
“Katniss,” she started and paused. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d heard my real name from her mouth.
“Katniss,” she began again, “I have some news.”
“You mentioned that,” I managed to choke in a tone more sarcastic than I intended.
Her gaze swept across my face before she said more quietly than I’d ever heard her speak, “Katniss, I’m going to have a baby.”
I pretended to listen as she explained that she hadn’t intended for this to happen, but she realized she was pregnant a month after her on again off again boyfriend left for a tour in Afghanistan and decided he didn’t want to maintain a relationship with her. When she told him the news, he thanked her for the information but politely declined any further responsibility as the baby’s father.
“A month after?” I asked in shock. “How far along are you?”
She shrugged a bit more nonchalantly than I think she intended and answered, “A few months. Fourteen weeks, the doctor said. Is that three months or something?”
I nodded, but I could barely speak after that. I was happy for her. I really was, but I also despaired that even my most pessimistic, sarcastic friend was entering a phase of life I couldn’t join.
I’m pretty sure I hid it well. Johanna clearly wasn’t trying to upset me, and she asked more than once how I felt about her news. She didn’t want to rub it in, but I don’t think she really understood the conflict that existed inside me. If a baby could soften even the hard-hearted Johanna, then how could I be anything but happy about her situation?
Except that I was anything but happy. I was devastated. As countless acquaintances throughout my life got married and had children or gave birth as single parents, I always thought I could depend on Johanna to understand my predicament because she was in the same boat. Now that boat was empty except for me, and I wanted to scream my frustration.
I thought about other options—adoption, IVF, freezing my eggs. The problem was that I couldn’t really afford any of those options as I struggled with finances, and there was another dilemma as well.
A few months before my fortieth birthday, my cycle changed. I’d always been disgustingly regular with my period occurring every 28 days and with very little pain. However, my new normal became a shorter cycle occurring more frequently and resulting in much more discomfort and intermittent spotting. I’m sure my hormones went a little haywire with the fluctuations too, and I paid my doctor a visit to ease my concerns.
Unfortunately, that didn’t happen. Instead, I was informed that my reproductive system was doing what it was supposed to do as I aged and my biological clock wound down. My body was releasing the eggs faster and faster, and I wasn’t holding the cells that could nurture a fertilized egg into a successful pregnancy.
After Johanna’s news, I bit my tongue and focused on turning my frustrations into support for her. She certainly hadn’t chosen an easy path, but she did love her unborn baby with the same fierceness with which she approached everything else. It was inspiring, but it was also painful to know she had entered a world into which I couldn’t follow.
I became an honorary aunt to Johanna’s baby boy, and a few months later I turned forty-one. Forty had been hard, but at least it was a big milestone birthday. No one even pretends to celebrate the individual ones after that. Another passed and then another. Before I knew it was staring the mid-forties in the face, and nothing had changed.
I think everyone who knew me could tell I was at the end of my rope, and I’m positive they worried about me. Prim tried to involve me as much as possible in her family’s events, and Johanna continued to treat me as though I really was her sister and the aunt to her child. I pretended that was enough, but it wasn’t. Instead, I fought my own emptiness as I attempted to celebrate their lives. The ever-present ache never really went away unless I intentionally chose to ignore the pain.
It was a chance meeting that ended up changing everything. I worked for an advertising firm, and a client came in to explain the product to me more fully so I could tweak the campaign I’d created for his company. Little did I know the meeting would generate an entirely new path to my life.
“Mrs. Everdeen?”
I glanced up from my computer screen to find the source of the husky, deep voice, and almost choked. The most beautiful shade of blue eyes I’d ever seen were framed by a mop of blonde curls that fell over a tanned forehead. The man’s jaw flexed before his mouth curved into an adorable smile that displayed incredibly charming dimples. It was as if that precious boy from the detergent commercial I’d watched years ago had grown into this fine specimen. My mouth hung open for several seconds before I could regain control.
“Y-yes?” I stuttered. When his face fell slightly, I realized my mistake and corrected him. “Sorry, not Mrs. It’s Ms. Ms. Everdeen. I’m not married. Not that you need to know that. I’m so sorry. That wasn’t very professional. But still, I’m definitely single.” Flustered, I snapped my mouth closed and tried not to die of mortification as my cheeks flamed.
His face broke into another disarming smile, and he sighed in relief. “That’s good to hear. So am I, although...” He shook his head and laughed. “Not that you need to know that. That wasn’t very professional either. Let’s start over.”
“Deal,” I agreed through a wide smile. “I’m Katniss Everdeen.”
“Hi,” the Adonis look-alike said and extended his hand for me to shake. “I’m Peeta. Peeta Mellark. I’m here from Capitol Bakery. You have some advertising proofs to show me, if I’m not mistaken.”
I’ve always heard about people who meet someone and their world stops, but until that meeting, I really didn’t understand it at all. I’m positive he felt it too because his eyes had widened slightly when he first saw me and his cerulean eyes sparkled as he shook my hand. Surprisingly, there was no electric current when his calloused palm closed over mine, but there was enough power in our locked gazes to charge an entire city for years.
Swallowing hard, I was able to regain my professional demeanor in order to welcome him to District 12 Advertising and slip the mockups I’d created for him across my desk. His fingertips brushed my shaking hands as he reached for them, and we locked eyes, my silver ones with his, for a solid ten seconds before he glanced away. I’m forever grateful for his ability to maintain his composure because I almost drooled onto my desk.
We discussed the work, and he provided a few suggestions before standing in preparation to leave. I remember my heart fluttered in panic when I thought I’d never see him again, but instead he asked in a gentle voice, “I know this isn’t the most appropriate question, but would you be interested in having dinner sometime?” I could barely contain myself as I agreed, and two nights later we went on our first date.
It didn’t take longer than a few weeks before Peeta and I knew we were supposed to be together. Everything in me yearned for him so much that being apart physically hurt. Since we felt as if we were one person, it made logical sense to marry and create someone who was part of both of us. Unfortunately, we were already well into our mid-forties, so the odds weren’t exactly in our favor to conceive a child naturally.
Of course, that didn’t stop us from trying both before and after our wedding. Finally, I was able to feed my craving for physical affection that I hadn’t even really understood I possessed. I hadn’t let anyone get too close since Gale and I parted ways, so Peeta’s heat against mine felt so incredibly good. Peeta loved to hug me, and he loved to hold me more. His kisses rained onto my lips, and his strong arms cradled me to him as his naked body pressed against mine. He worshipped me with his hands and lips, and I found paradise with him inside me.
I relished in the sound of him as he pounded into me, the groans and grunts rumbling from his chest and ripping from him as he found his release. He swallowed my wanton cries as he repeatedly drove me to completion. Our sex life became something to celebrate in ways that could have edited every how-to guide for a happy marriage, and with it, everything else improved too. We talked and laughed and worked and played together so intimately it seemed as if our souls were only parts of each other.
If love had been enough, we would have been graced with a houseful of children, but maybe I’d already received my blessing in my soulmate. We tried for a few months before it dawned on me that it might not happen. I thought (or tried to convince myself) that I would have been fine with a family of two, but Peeta wanted them so badly, and I longed to give him everything.
It was when I skipped a period the month before my forty-fifth birthday that I thought I’d conceived. I was two weeks late when I decided to take a pregnancy test. I’d never used any type of birth control except condoms, and Peeta and I hadn’t bothered with those since our first few times together. There was no one else for either of us, and at our age, a baby wasn’t something we could easily delay without taunting Mother Nature.
I don’t think I realized how much I wanted to carry Peeta’s child until I saw the test result. The pink negative sign hit me so hard my knees buckled, and I had to grab onto the sink in order to remain upright. A desperate sob ripped from my chest, and I sank down to the edge of the tub as howls of grief wracked my body. I tried to hold myself together with my arms crossed over my chest, but nothing could ease my anguish.
Peeta found me when he came home from his evening run. I’d slipped from my perch and was slumped on the floor with my back against the cold porcelain. My tears had dried into jagged tracks, and I could barely hold my head up from the pain. He gathered me to him and held me until he could pry the useless wand from my fingers. When he saw the negative, his eyes filled with tears, and he buried his face in my shoulder for a few seconds as he processed the news.
Thankfully, Peeta is mentally stronger than anyone I know, and he pulled himself together quicker than I could have or did. He picked me up and carried me to our bed where he held me until I fell into a fitful sleep. I woke screaming several times during the night, but his arms comforted me every time. It was only the next morning that he smoothed my hair from my face and broke the silence.
“Katniss, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even know you were thinking it might have happened. Why didn’t you tell me?”
The softness in his voice would have caused me to break down again if I’d had any tears left to give, but I was dry. My chest ached with a hollowness I didn’t know existed, and I managed to gasp as I shook my head, “I’m sorry for disappointing you.”
His face crumpled at my confession and evasion of the question, and he bit his bottom lip to hold back his own tears. “Maybe it would be a good idea to make an appointment. See if anything’s wrong,” he suggested. I tensed against him. The thought of an examination after such a significant disappointment sickened me.
“I don’t want to,” I grumbled into his chest, unwilling and unable to meet his eyes.
“Katniss, look at me,” he commanded in a gentle, but firm, voice. When I finally raised my gaze to his, he spoke calmly and with authority. “I love you, sweetheart. So much that I want a dozen babies with you, but I want you safe and happy and healthy more than anything else. Let’s see what’s going on. Just in case.”
Just in case.
Those words rang through my mind as I gave him the go-ahead to contact my doctor and schedule an appointment. They echoed in my chest when my period started the next day. They haunted me in my dreams as I imagined hearing news of cervical cancer or worse. The potential of not being able to give Peeta a child of his own was terrifying, but the possibility of being sick was even more horrifying as the days passed until I could see the doctor.
Peeta, the ever doting husband, went with me and held my hand through the procedure. He waited with me as the tests were run and we tried to keep ourselves from going crazy during the days until the results came back. What I appreciated more than anything was his steady presence when Dr. Aurelius gave us the news.
“Katniss, Peeta, it’s good to see you,” he said in greeting as we entered his office. I probably should have realized what was coming since I wasn’t in an examining room but sitting in a leather armchair facing his desk as he flipped through my file.
“Likewise, Doctor.” Peeta was unflappable. Always. I don’t know how he did it.
“Unfortunately, I don’t have the best news,” Dr. Aurelius began. “Katniss, your body has reached its pre-menopausal state.”
My heart sank at his words, and I clutched my husband’s hand tightly. I didn’t want to hear what hid in that file, but I also couldn’t bear not knowing.
“What does that mean?” I asked and tried to control the tremor in my voice.
He looked at me, his face serious, before speaking again. I glanced sideways at Peeta and saw the effort with which he tried to keep his face clear. I knew that was for my benefit, and that made what came next hurt even worse.
“It means your body has expelled almost all of your viable eggs. It would be virtually impossible for you to conceive at this point.”
I’ll admit that I whimpered at his announcement. Realistically, I know the report wasn’t made to hurt me, but I felt as if a sword of fire cut through my chest when I heard the words. Peeta’s hand continued to hold mine, but I couldn’t bear to glance at my husband. I knew if I saw the pain he surely felt, I’d collapse under the weight of disappointing the man I loved more than my own life.
Dr. Aurelius looked at us both with sympathy pooling in his eyes before explaining, “I wish I could give you better news, but the simple explanation for what happened is that your reproductive system is fighting over whether or not to continue to ovulate and menstruate or to stop altogether. It’s somewhat early for your cycle to stop altogether, but the absence of healthy eggs is causing the problem.”
At that, Peeta finally spoke, his voice harsh and broken. “So there’s really no chance?”
The older man crossed his hands on the desktop and shook his head regretfully. “I’m a man of science, Mr. Mellark, but I also believe in miracles. Unfortunately, you and your wife are going to need one for this to happen. I wish I could give you better news, but…”
“Give it to me bluntly,” I begged, desperate for something to make the news real so I could believe it and begin the process of accepting something that was too horrific to be true.
“Bluntly—time’s up.”
We wandered from the doctor’s office to our car, and somehow Peeta managed to drive us home. When we were parked safely in the garage, he made no attempt to exit the car. He sat, his hands lying listlessly in his lap, without expression.
“Peeta,” I urged him in a whisper, “please talk to me.” Everything stood still as he slowly turned to stare at me. The haunted glint in his eyes shook me to my core.
“What do you want me to say?” he asked in a voice I barely recognized as his.
We stared at each other for several moments before I could put into words what my fears really were, and I hated myself when I recognized them.
“That you still love me.”
Because that was my most deeply seated fear. I didn’t want him to stop caring about me because I couldn’t carry a child that was his. I didn’t want him to cast me to the side, even though I was his soulmate, because another woman could welcome him inside her and have his baby. I didn’t want to lose him because I was useless to him.
I shouldn’t have been surprised when he exited the car immediately and entered the house. He returned in minutes having changed into shorts, a t-shirt, and his running shoes. He was around the block before I could process that he hadn’t answered.
His normal thirty minute run stretched into an hour, and then two, and finally three before I heard the front door open and his irregular tread on the hardwood floor. Somehow I’d dragged myself from the garage to the living room and sat with my back to the door and staring at the wall in an attempt to not think or feel.
He entered the room, but I didn’t turn my head to look at him. I jumped slightly when his gentle hands landed on both my shoulders and squeezed slightly. I responded automatically, raising my right hand to cover his and waited.
“I still love you.”
Another thing I’ve always heard about is the feeling of intense joy mixed with brokenness and how you can find one in the other. It’s something else I never really understood until that moment—when the elation of knowing my husband’s love was never-ending juxtaposed against the agony of losing a lifelong dream.
I don’t remember much of the immediate aftermath; just that I wailed hopelessly while Peeta held me to him, my face buried in his sweaty chest. When my tears gave way to soft sniffles, he wiped my face and kissed me until we joined together. Our bodies spoke in a way neither of us could, offering forgiveness and acceptance and understanding when words had failed us.
Afterward, we lay together, comforted by our act, and finally Peeta found his voice again.
“I didn’t leave because I don’t love you,” he began. “I left because you doubted me. How you could ever believe how I feel about you is based on contingencies?”
His fingers tangled in my hair and worked to unwind my unkempt braid. I could barely keep my eyes open at the soothing gesture, but I still registered everything he was saying.
“Sweetheart, nothing will ever make me stop loving you. I’m yours. Always.”
The words poured from him then. He admitted his disappointment but also his sorrow that I felt guilty. He suggested finding another method by which we could try for biological children, and if those didn’t work, he declared that he was open to pursuing adoption. He kept talking, so long that I couldn’t take anymore. I was still much too raw to consider anything other than Dr. Aurelius’ words and my crushed heart.
The next day was hard, the day after that harder still, but I came back to life slowly over the course of several months. Some nights I woke screaming and thrashing from nightmares, and some days I didn’t want to talk to anyone, not even Peeta, because I hurt so much.
To his credit, Peeta didn’t waver. I know he fought his own demons as he grew older too. I know he had to deal with his own disappointments, but he didn’t push me to consider anything before I was ready. He simply allowed me to heal as he put himself back together too.
I’ll admit I never really thought about how infertility impacts the male partner before we discovered we couldn’t have our own children. Prim spent considerable time making sure I worked through my pain, but Peeta really didn’t have anyone to help him except me—and I wasn’t the best at supporting him because it only increased my own anxiety.
He spent more time with our niece and nephew after we got our news. He ran more, painted more, baked more, and worked more. He did everything more to fill the void I knew we both felt. Several times I entered a room and caught him gripping the furniture, his knuckles white, as he fought through his own sadness and disappointments. If I’d been able to break out of my own funk, I would have been able to help him heal.
The clock inside my head kept ticking, but the passage of time no longer held any urgency for me. I already felt it was too late to hurry. We had another couple of close calls, but, not surprisingly, neither case resulted in a miracle pregnancy. By the time I was ready to acknowledge our situation, we could hardly find an IVF clinic that would treat us since the chances were so slim. We also attempted to harvest what eggs I had left in case a surrogate was the answer, but that option failed too. After we exhausted every resource and possibility we had, we had a frank discussion about adoption and fostering a child.
Maybe I’m a horrible person—okay, it’s not really maybe—but I didn’t know if I was ready to face the potential pitfalls of that process. Peeta and I were in our late forties at that point, and I didn’t know if I could open myself up to the pain of losing out on a child again. We were warned by so many people of mothers changing their minds or international adoptions going wrong and not being able to bring a child back into the country after spending thousands of dollars to do so. Fostering should have provided a wonderful option, but I couldn’t accept that I’d only have a child for a short period of time before the potential arose that he or she would be taken from me and placed somewhere else. I just couldn’t do it.
Peeta understood, but it was awful to finally admit my insecurities and fears to him. We celebrated my forty-eighth birthday with an agreement that it would just be the two of us in our family. It wasn’t a good birthday present, but can it ever really be to lose something so inherently human?
Not everybody wants to be a parent, realistically I know that, but I did—even if I realized it too late for it to actually happen. Peeta would have been a better father than almost any man I’ve ever known, but he was robbed of the chance by falling in love with me. He’d never admit that. He only says that I make his life better in every way, and I struggle to believe him every single day.
The year we turned fifty, we made a pact. We vowed to stop waiting to try new things. We promised to take advantage of what life still had to offer us. We created a bucket list and began crossing off the items one by one. We vowed to embrace everything life could offer us since we lost the thing we wanted the most besides each other.
Story submitted! Make sure to contribute to fandom4lls to gain access to hundreds of pages of The Hunger Games fanfiction months before those stories are made public.
Thank you to my “prep team” who makes me look way better than I ever could: jennagill, myusernamehere, papofglencoe, and loving-mellark for being my betas, pre-reader, and banner maker, respectively.
I wrote this for F4LLS last year and forgot to post it. It’s my take on why the morphling sacrificed herself for Peeta and Katniss - not everything was done for the revolution.
Always Rivals is the first portion of a multi-part series that will post during the first few months of 2015 and follows Katniss Everdeen and her academic rival Peeta Mellark through high school, college, and beyond. Many thanks to myusernamehere and jennagill for their beta skills and baronesskika and court81981 for brainstorming sessions regarding content and form. Also, a much deserved thank you to fandom4lls for creating an opportunity for fanfic authors to contribute to such a worthy cause.
Static echoed throughout Haymitch Abernathy’s classroom as the students struggled to finish their exams before the period ended. Katniss Everdeen finished her last answer and set down her pen to listen to the announcement that was sure to follow.
As Vice Principal Thread’s voice boomed through the halls of the school, Katniss’ eyes drifted to the front of the room where her blond and blue-eyed classmate sat. Peeta Mellark’s brow creased in concentration as he scrawled an answer in his deft script. Katniss knew from attending school with him since kindergarten that his handwriting was remarkably neat and almost artistic for a boy.
With a sigh of relief and a faint smile of satisfaction, Peeta scanned the exam sheets a final time and placed his pen neatly at the top of his desk. His sharp blue eyes met hers briefly as he glanced at the clock in the back of the classroom, and he offered her a sweet half-smile. Katniss rolled her eyes and looked away to fix her stare on the speaker above the chalkboard from which Thread’s voice continued to drone.
None of the announcements were important. She’d heard every one of them a million times during her tenure at Coriolanus Snow High School, but the Vice Principal seemed to gain an inordinate amount of satisfaction from hearing his own voice at the end of every school day. She couldn’t wait for the next three weeks to pass so she’d never have to hear his voice again.
But more than that, she looked forward to never seeing Peeta Mellark again if she could help it. He’d been her nemesis since the first day of school thirteen years prior, and she’d grown tired of living in his shadow.
It wasn’t so much that Peeta deserved her wrath or the significant amount of distaste she felt for him. In fact, he didn’t deserve it at all. He’d only ever been nice to her—kind, considerate, helpful, and a million other complimentary adjectives that infuriated her more than anything. Peeta was nice to a fault—smart, popular, compassionate, and worst of all, her biggest supporter despite her best efforts to shoo him away.
On the first day of kindergarten, he’d smiled shyly at her when they spied each other for the first time across the schoolyard, but Katniss was wary of people who looked like him. He practically sparkled in his clothes that reeked of newness. His wavy hair fell in a soft frame around his face, resembling a halo. Her own mother had the same coloring, but her clothing was drab and fit for a miner’s wife. Katniss’ attire reflected her family’s impoverished state as well, so she was cautious about allowing much contact between herself and those who were considered “better” than her.
The problem was that Peeta didn’t seem to understand those parameters. He didn’t view her any differently than he viewed himself, despite their obvious dissimilarity in socio-economic status. Whenever he'd had a chance to interact with her, he'd done so (albeit shyly), and his kindness had started to grate on her nerves.
When the class bully, Cato, pulled her skirt over her head and shoved her into a mud puddle in second grade, Peeta had helped her up and chastised her classmates for laughing at her before reporting Cato to the teacher.
Each year on her birthday, which fell near the end of the school year, he brought her something special from his dad’s bakery. The gesture rankled her, even though she knew it was unfair. He was simply being nice, but the other kids noticed and teased her about his obvious devotion to her. It didn’t seem to matter if she reciprocated or not. He became her unofficial champion and protector so subtly and intrinsically that no one teased her about anything but him.
Her father was killed in a mine explosion the year she turned twelve, when she and her little sister Prim needed him the most. Her entire world changed then, with the exception of Peeta. He remained steadfast during the crisis, bringing her homework every day during the time her mother allowed her to stay home from school and mourn. With the homework, he brought with him a simple brand of compassion that eased her devastation just a little more each day. His presence at her father's funeral made her eyes water with as many tears as saying goodbye to her beloved dad did. Peeta was the only one of her classmates who bothered to make an appearance.
During middle school, she’d managed to bury some of her pride and be civil to him. They’d even maintained a friendly rivalry once it became clear that they both wanted to succeed as much as possible. Peeta was remarkably talented in art, and she in music, but the core classes were where they both shone as academic successes. By the time they reached high school, it was clear they’d be duking it out for valedictorian and salutatorian spots as well as the scholarships that went along with them. Both of them needed the monetary support if they were to attend college, but Katniss unquestionably needed it more.
Katniss shook herself out of her reverie at the sound of her name leaving Thread’s lips.
“Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark, please report to the counselor’s office at this time. I repeat, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark, please report to the counselor’s office at this time.”
Katniss cursed under her breath as Mr. Abernathy smirked, and a few of their classmates twittered with laughter. Peeta’s ears tinged pink, and his head hung low as he flexed his hands into nervous fists before turning in his seat and glancing at her with a raised eyebrow.
Someone released a quiet wolf whistle before their teacher grunted, “That’s enough. No talking during exams,” and the class returned to a silent state.
“Katniss, Peeta, turn in your tests if you’re both done and get going.”
Katniss sighed heavily and pushed herself away from her desk, stalking past Peeta to Mr. Abernathy’s desk. Peeta stood aside politely, and his gentlemanly gesture caused her to roll her eyes again.
He’d been just that chivalrous the previous spring when he’d sweet-talked her into being his date to their junior prom, and that had ended in an unmitigated disaster.
Again, it wasn’t really his fault. During their junior year, Peeta and she had settled into an easy camaraderie. Their schedules were mostly the same, and their GPAs were so similar that it seemed silly not to help each other out. Her grades had improved to almost perfect with his help, and his had as well. They drilled each other for the ACT and SAT until they both scored as high as could be expected.
Katniss grew so comfortable with him that she let down her guard, and that’s when he’d made his move.
During their last study session for the ACT, Peeta cleared his throat shyly and closed his book. She knew he had something to say, so she waited patiently. Peeta didn’t respond well to pushiness, so she sat quietly in expectation.
After thirty seconds of painful silence, Peeta stammered, “Uh… Katniss… so, I, uh…” He stopped to gulp down his panic and started again. “Well, I thought maybe… if you aren’t going with anyone else… uh… well, maybe—do you think you might want to go to prom together?”
Katniss had sat in stunned silence for several minutes and studied him. He kept his eyes cast downward to his lap and picked at a hangnail while his face flushed a deep red. It must have taken a lot of guts to ask her to be his date after the vehement dislike she’d thrown at him for the past decade. When he pressed his lips together to stop them from quivering, her heart ached at the sweetness of this boy who’d tried to break through her wall for so many years.
The problem was that she didn’t want to go to prom, with him or anyone. It was a waste of time, a waste of money, and waste of her self-respect. She couldn’t understand why so many people made it such a big deal when it wasn’t, and she didn’t want to contribute to the group mentality that prom was anything more than an overhyped dance.
But then he raised his head to look at her and the wistfulness and hope reflected in his eyes drove her pride from her.
“Please?” he said so softly she barely heard him.
A ping shot through her stomach at his vulnerability, and she answered with a hesitant “yes” before she could stop herself. Relief and pure joy washed over his face when she accepted, and she knew she couldn’t renege without ruining the precarious friendship and study relationship they’d struggled to build over the last few months.
As a result, three weeks later, she found herself wearing a dress with too much poof and way more organza, tulle, and lace than she thought existed in the world. When she opened the door to greet him, she gasped at the sight of his broad shoulders covered in his black suit jacket and the way his hair angled away from his face so that his eyes pierced hers with their intensity. Even his cheekbones stood out more prominently than she remembered.
She couldn’t think of the last time anybody had looked so gorgeous, and it was clear he felt the same about her. His eyes sparkled with adoration as he took in her dress and her carefully braided hair. Her mother had spent hours getting it just right as she fidgeted and twitched in her chair.
Peeta brought her a wrist corsage of wild primrose that made her throat ache at his thoughtfulness. It was no secret that she adored her sister. While most of her classmates fought with their siblings like cats and dogs, she thoroughly enjoyed spending time with Prim. Peeta didn’t question it. Instead, he often invited Prim along to their study sessions and gave her a treat from the bakery while they worked through their homework together.
Peeta’s plans for prom were perfect, so she knew on that night and still knew to this day that what happened wasn’t really his fault. However, she had been so humiliated that she couldn’t quite get past the anger she had misdirected toward him.
Prom started out as many other dances did. No one danced, and everyone stood awkwardly around the edge of the room waiting for someone else to make the first move. Finally, a couple of over-eager underclassmen dragged their dates from the junior class onto the floor. After a couple of songs, Peeta extended his hand to her and asked her for a dance.
It was a slow song, and she allowed him to pull her into his strong arms and against his solid body as they swayed to the music in the dimly lit room. She relaxed slightly as they moved together—until she felt something poking into her upper thigh. Confused, she pulled back to ask him what he had in his pocket.
His face flushed red, and he stammered, “N-nothing,” before pulling away to hold her several inches from his body.
It was then she realized what had happened, and her mouth hung open in shocked disgust.
“You have a boner on the dance floor?” she blurted much louder than she should have. A few couples turned their heads in her direction and snickered. Peeta’s face blushed darker red still, and he dropped his hands from her entirely.
He held his palms up and backed away a couple of feet. “I’m sorry,” he offered. “It was a natural reaction.”
She shook her head and walked back to the edge of the room to perch on a chair there. Peeta followed her slowly, his head down in humiliation, and sat next to her.
“Can’t you control yourself, Peeta?” she spit in exasperation. “We barely even like each other. So it’s not like we’re going to end up in some cheap hotel room together, fumbling around until we lose our virginity with uncomfortable sex, you getting off in ten seconds and me left wondering what was such a big deal.”
Anger and hurt colored his face, and he clenched his jaw. “I can control myself Katniss, but you might want to open your eyes at some point because I do like you. I have for ages, and I wasn’t going to do anything you didn’t want to do. I wouldn’t ever do anything to hurt you.”
Katniss was sure nothing could have been more of a shock. She knew Peeta liked her, but to really like her? To like her so much that his body reacted without any prompting from her, that he’d put up with her being a jerk to him for so many years, that he’d swallowed his pride to ask her out when she’d seen him as little more than an unwanted and unwelcome rival…
It was those thoughts that resulted in her giving into her own budding curiosity about sex after the prom ended.
The night itself had been so awkward, she was sure he thought she was having a miserable time, but she wasn’t. Instead, she spent the remainder of the night trying to figure out what she would do if Peeta presented her with an opportunity to explore things with him physically. By the time the DJ announced the last song of the night, Katniss wanted to leave but not because she wasn’t having any fun. It was because she was curious about what it would feel like to have Peeta’s mouth on hers, the weight of his muscular frame pressed on top of her as his strong hands weaved through her braid, causing loose strands to fall in waves upon her shoulders.
When he asked if she was ready to go, she bit her lip and nodded before practically running to the car. Why hadn’t she considered this before? Once his erection pressed into her on the dance floor, she couldn’t stop the thoughts circulating in her mind, those of Peeta slipping inside her with his eyes closed in determination and sweat beading his forehead. The juncture between her legs practically dripped with arousal, and she needed to know what he felt like without the barrier of cloth between him and her hand.
Peeta, however, had other ideas. He drove her home and parked in front of her house before she realized what he was doing. Dismayed, she looked at him and asked, “What are we doing here?”
He looked at her in confusion and answered carefully, “I thought the night was over. You were so quiet all evening, I assumed you didn’t want to spend any more time with me.” He sounded defeated, and she really couldn’t blame him. She hadn’t been very nice to him.
“But,” she started before blushing such a deep red that it matched the deep orange red of her dress. “I—I thought—I mean…don’t you want to go somewhere? Somewhere private maybe?”
Peeta’s head jerked upward so fast, she feared he’d break his neck. Disbelief flickered in his eyes, and he gaped at her repeatedly in an attempt to decide whether or not she was serious.
“Are you sure?” he practically whispered.
She didn’t answer. Instead, she nodded sharply and returned her gaze to the windshield. She sat stiffly, scared senseless, but with so much anticipation that her hands shook in her lap.
Peeta pulled the car into a deserted grove of trees that was located off a wooded road a few miles from town and released a huge gust of air.
With his eyes fixed on the trees surrounding the car, he asked tentatively, “Are you sure about this, Katniss? You said earlier tonight that you barely even like me. This seems… well, it seems like a one-eighty if you’re…you know.”
She didn’t look at him. She only nodded again and said with a shaky voice, “I’m sure.”
Peeta leaned toward her and tilted her face towards his. He moved closer, and his warm breath caused the hair to stand up on her arms.
“Katniss,” he whispered in awe before brushing his lips against hers.
Waves of warmth rushed through her body as his mouth caressed hers, and she remembered now in embarrassment the way she’d practically attacked him. She turned and threw her arms around him, putting him in a lip lock that caused him to grunt in surprise. She slipped her hand down to his crotch and grabbed him through his pants so hard that he jumped, and her cheeks burned in humiliation when she recalled that it had been her who pulled them into the backseat when he reacted to her. The shift from front to back was also probably why they missed the flash of headlights that flickered across the car. They had been much too preoccupied with each other.
Peeta seemed to try to slow things down, but she was insistent. She reached behind her to unzip her dress, and his mouth found her nipples without hesitation. She arched into him and pulled at his fly until she managed to free his cock and jerk it a few times. She was wild and out of control. Peeta croaked, “Katniss, slow down,” as she pulled his mouth to hers and bit his bottom lip while jacking him off.
A moan of pleasure emitted through Peeta’s chest, and his breath caught before he groaned in supplication. His body tensed and pulsed as he spilled into her hand, spurting thick, sticky streams up her arm and all over the skirt of her prom dress.
She shrieked in surprise, and his face froze in horror. “Oh god, Katniss…” he sputtered before he fell silent.
Katniss lifted her arm and watched a glob of moisture drip from it and onto her dress. She knew he was humiliated, but so was she, and what happened next only served to make it worse.
They both jumped in shock when a hand slapped against the outside of the car’s window. A rush of profanity followed as Peeta’s mother screamed at both of them at the top of her lungs. Peeta fumbled to tuck himself back into his pants and tug her dress over her breasts, but there wasn’t anything to do about the residue from Peeta’s orgasm except to wipe the rest of it on her skirt.
“WHAT ARE YOU TWO DOING? You filthy girl! What are you doing tempting my son this way?!” his mother screeched as she flung the door open and pulled Peeta from the car by his hair.
Peeta tried to placate her and calm her down, all the while attempting to apologize to Katniss, but nothing could save the situation from being awkward. Katniss found out later that Peeta’s mother had followed them from the dance to check up on their post-prom activities. Not only was it a gross invasion of Peeta’s privacy, but it was creepy to Katniss. When Peeta made an effort to apologize again later, she didn’t want to hear it. Nothing could erase the abject degradation she felt at pushing Peeta so fast that he prematurely ejaculated on her arm right as his mother caught them together in the back seat.
After prom, Katniss avoided Peeta liked the plague, and after a few weeks, Peeta gave up trying to approach her. It helped that school ended only a few days after that and they didn’t have to see each other again until the beginning of their senior year.
She missed him, she admitted to herself when she spent hours slogging through AP biology homework and wrote a ten page term paper on Shakespeare. Her grades didn’t suffer though, and Peeta respected her distance. He continued to show her he was open to her approaches, but she refused to cross the line. Her mortification was simply too much to hurdle.
Back in the present in the hallway of Coriolanus Snow High, with her long-time rival following behind her at a safe distance, Katniss strode purposefully toward the counselor’s office. Peeta hurried to keep up with her and attempted to break the ice.
“What do you think Thread wants?” he asked, his voice matter-of-fact but with a hint of curiosity.
She snapped at him, “Nothing. We’re going to see the counselor, remember?”
“Well, yeah, Katniss. I just meant—”
“I know what you meant,” she barked at him, and he fell silent.
She rounded the corner and put her hand on the door of the counselor’s office when Peeta reached out and covered her hand with his. She jerked to a stop and whipped her head to look at him with eyes that flashed with anger.
“Don’t touch me!” she almost yelled.
His voice was gentle, soothing, as he pled, “Katniss, come on. It’s been a year. We’re going to graduate in a few weeks, and we’ll never see each other again. Can we please bury the hatchet?”
“I don’t want to bury the hatchet,” she sputtered. “Get out of my way.”
Peeta stepped back and allowed her to pull open the door to Mrs. Trinket’s office. Effie Trinket, the school counselor, looked up and took in Katniss’ flushed face and Peeta’s chagrined expression. Without blinking an eye, she waved them forward.
“Come in, come in, children. It’s a big, big, big day! I have some scholarship information for you both and news about your class rank. We have to get ready for graduation,” she tittered.
Katniss swallowed her irritation and sat down to hear what the counselor had to say about her future. She’d struggled for thirteen years to escape from this town and go to college so that she could make a better life for herself and her sister. She’d toiled side by side with Peeta in an attempt to make it through her junior year without letting her GPA slip. She’d worked three times as hard her senior year to keep those grades without his help. Pretty soon Peeta wouldn’t matter. Nothing would matter except the opportunity to get out and help make her and Prim’s lives better.
Peeta and she both sat anxiously in their chairs and faced Mrs. Trinket. She fiddled with her hair for a few minutes and pushed the brightly colored curls from her face as she juggled papers.
“Now, children,” she started, and Katniss rolled her eyes at being addressed as an infantile. “I know you’ve both driven yourselves very, very, very hard, and I’m thrilled to be able to give you such good news.”
She smiled warmly at them, but Katniss wanted nothing more than to hear the results. “What’s the news?” she cried, unable to control herself. Peeta chuckled at her impatience, which earned a look of disgust from her and an indulgent smile from the counselor.
“Patience, dear, patience!” she clucked and tapped a stack of papers together. “You’ll be happy to know that you are practically tied in class rank and GPA. Peeta has the edge because of an A+ he got in art his freshman year, so congratulations!”
Katniss’ stomach dropped at the information. She thought they were tied. She knew she had no hope of beating him out this last semester, so he’d won if that were true. She dropped her gaze to her lap and twisted her hands together. She needed the extra scholarship money the top position would get her. There were only a few hundred dollars in difference between valedictorian and salutatorian, but every single one of them mattered to her. Peeta’s family wasn’t much better off financially. They did all right, she knew, but not enough that he could make it through college without help.
“Congratulations,” she muttered in attempt to be gracious.
“Thanks,” he responded softly. She knew he could tell how upset she was.
“Now, Katniss, there’s good news for you both. Don’t look so glum.”
Katniss fixed her eyes on the counselor and willed her to reveal the information she needed to hear.
“You’ve both been such good students and ambassadors for the school that Panem State University has taken note. For the first time ever, PSU has decided to grant both of you full-ride scholarships.”
A wide smile broke across her face, and Katniss felt her heart lurch in joy. “Really?” she squealed. She’d never squealed before in her life, but this occasion seemed to call for it.
“Really,” Mrs. Trinket said with a deliberate nod. “You’re both headed to the same college in the fall—unless you want to turn down the Tribute Scholarship. By the way, no one has ever done that. No one. The Tribute scholarship is… well, it’s the most prestigious scholarship in the nation.”
Katniss almost leapt for joy until she realized what the words meant. With trepidation she looked at Peeta, who sat stoically in his chair. When he turned to face her, his eyes locked with hers, and she bristled at his voice.
“Well, I guess we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other over the next few years.” His voice was measured, and she could tell he was working hard to hide any hint of relief, irritation, or happiness.
“I guess so,” she reluctantly agreed.
When they were out in the hall, Peeta turned to her and said, “Classmates, friends, rivals, tributes… I’ll just add it to my list of words to describe you.”
Katniss couldn’t shake her feeling of dread as she realized he would be around for at least another four years of her life—but there was also something comforting when he winked at her with his blue eyes. Despite their rivalry, Peeta had always been there for her, and she didn’t want to admit that made her feel better about the next step in her life.
“Always rivals,” she said firmly as she headed to her locker. She just wanted to go home and share the good news with her sister rather than dwell on another four years of close proximity to Peeta.
I have no patience... I jumped on the bandwagon and posted my F4LLS story, After Hours (FFnet / AO3).
Peeta M (sent 11:46 PM): Don't tease me, Everdeen.
Katniss (sent 11:47 PM): Who's teasing?
Katniss (sent 11:48 PM): Maybe it's just nice to be noticed.
Sparing one last glance over at Gale, she rolled over and faced away from him. She tucked herself under the blankets, clutching her phone like a lifeline, waiting for a response.
Peeta M (sent 11:50 PM): You're hard NOT to notice. You're smart, and kind, and funny. You're incredibly generous and loyal. And you have such a good heart. You would give your life for Prim if it came down to it.
I'm working on uploading my F4LLS collaboration with alonglineofbread tonight to Ao3 but it might just end up on our blogs. What is it, you ask? It's a beautifully illustrated Mockingjay-Goodnight Moon crossover.
