I started this fic in 2015, last time I updated it was 2018.
Some of you would think , why am I finishing it now? The answer is easy: Kika.
I didn’t have time to finish before the deadline of @promptsinpanem but I still promised myself to finish the Fic to honor her and her amazing writing . She was one of the first Everlark writers I read. She was one of my fave writers also.
I had the luck and honor to work in this project with @ombradellaluna who has illustrate the ending of the fic with a gorgeous drawing in honor of Kika also.
Summary: Katniss is new in town and Peeta is her range guide. Now rated M.
Part 3 is written for @promptsinpanem in the 15 Days to Finish Your Fic (For Kika) Round. Parts 1 and 2 on AO3 here. They’re short if you missed them in ... checks notes... 2015 and 2018.
Yes. I told him yes. His face brightened into a warm smile at my acceptance. We agreed to meet at the Club but that doesn't stop the butterflies in my stomach while I get ready in my apartment.
Right now I'm struggling with what to wear. Practical over anything else. Closed toe shoes, high neck top, practical above anything else. I don’t want a rogue shell casing burning me. Besides, it's only a Sunday afternoon, right?
So it feels like a date, but I—and anything else in my head is blinded by the flash of someone’s daytime running lights outside my apartment. It’s just someone turning around but my eyes cut to the clock and I need to leave now. Long-sleeve turtleneck and vest with jeans it is, as I slide into my boots and head out the door. The drive over to the Capitol Hunting Club is mercifully short, compared to the growing list of questions in my head. I park and grab my bow and quiver with standard arrows before rushing inside.
The main showroom is packed. Who knew so many people wanted to attend this event? How am I ever going to find Peeta in here? My mind buzzes as I scan for his face when a gentle nudge from behind stops me in my tracks.
“Hey, found you,” he greets me with another one of those disarming smiles.
He’s definitely cleaned up well. Gone is the safety hue and in its place, a fetching shade that matches his eyes.
“Hey, uh yeah. This place is crazy busy. How'd you manage the day off from work?” I ask as my eyes roam the facility and catch a few familiar faces. “Looks like they have the whole staff on point here tonight.”
“I traded a coworker for a few Saturdays. It was quite the negotiation,” he pauses for a long moment, as if he is deciding something. “Ultimately though, I told him that I had a really special date,” he says as heat blooms across his cheeks.
“So this is a date, then?” I say with caution. “I wasn't sure, so I'm glad we have that clarified.” It almost sounds like a contract, rather than romance.
“It's a date if you allow it,” he stammers as his cheeks reach beet red before settling back into his normal skin tone.
I consider this, weighing my heart, body, and head on the matter. I can only imagine the confusion my face must show until I meet his eyes and the fog begins to lift. “I'll allow it, though...having a first date on Valentine's Day? What kind of omen is that?”
“Truth be told, Katniss, I've been wanting to ask you out for months but never worked up the courage until now,” he says quietly. “I’m not placing any special emphasis on the day, I’m just happy to be here, with you.”
Well that’s hard to argue. “Okay, well where do you want to start?” I try with a smile.
“Shoot first?”
“Pardon?”
“The pistol range, then the archery range, and then the meal?”
“Oh, I don’t… really know that much about pistols, my only experience with guns is the shooting we did the other weekend.”
“Oh I have a feeling you’ll be dead on with your aim and we can rent from the club too since I don’t own a pistol. I’ll run you through a safety briefing too.”
I keep considering his motives and his actions, if they are aligned or if I’m missing something as we move to the first station. It’s not much more than a series of door frames with walls in between, just enough for two people to stand closely with a shelf at waist height to place the weapons. I watch Peeta take aim at the ringed hearts on paper hung seven yards away. Blue, purple, and pink. Pop, pop, pop, goes my nerves and heart. The sound is too much on this indoor range with the pistols, even with the noise canceling headphones Peeta lent me.
“Your turn,” he gestures and shows me that the pistol is on safety and pointed down range on the shelf. He changes the target out for good measure too.
I take the pistol in my hands, forming the teacup he mentioned and squinting at the target. The cool steel chills me—I’m more accustomed to the warm bow wood. I flip the safety off and squeeze the trigger, taking a breath between shots. A crackle of electricity runs through my shoulders and spine as I finish my clip but it’s not the same thrill found in the woods. I take another glance at the target. All of the paper hearts are shredded.
“Is there anything you can’t do?” Peeta asks in amazement.
“Thanks, though I think I’ll stick with my bow or trap and skeet,” I say, flipping the safety back on, placing the weapon down, and backing away from the shelf.
Peeta sends another series of shots down range but I’m done shooting pistols for the day. My fingers are itching to get back on a bow. I go over to the archery station for some sanity while Peeta returns the equipment to the rental booth.
Red balloons are attached to the various targets on the archery range with prizes inside. Peeta takes aim with precision and hits nearly all of them. The slips float down to the floor to be retrieved by attendants. “Bullseye! Have you been taking lessons?” I ask casually.
“No. I just replayed what you told me in my head, and well—I wanted to impress you.” A lopsided grin sneaks across his face and he shuffles his feet.
His honesty takes me aback. He says everything in such an offhand way and I am foolish to have suspected ulterior motives. “Well...it shows, you’ve improved a lot since the other day.”
He beams at the praise and then it’s my turn to shoot. The attendant notices that the standing balloon targets offer no challenge for me, so he releases balloons from a ceiling net I had not seen earlier. At first it seems stupid, but it turns out to be kind of fun. Much more like hunting a moving creature, albeit a slow-moving one. Since I’m hitting everything he releases, he starts increasing the number of balloons in the drop. I forget the rest of the range and this date and lose myself in the shooting. When I manage to take down all five balloons in one round, I realize it’s so quiet I can hear each prize slip hit the floor. I turn and see the majority of the people of the range have stopped to watch me. Their faces show everything from jealous to admiration, though Peeta’s face is the brightest of them all.
The attendant calls for cease fire and I retrieve my arrows and prize slips—gift cards for the Club store and café, mostly. We venture toward the cake and coffee bar set out for this event. I wrinkle my nose at the coffee but notice that they offer hot chocolate too. “Oooh, that cake looks amazing!”
“You should have a slice, I have it on good authority that it's delicious,” he says.
He's met with a raised eyebrow.
“It's from my parent’s bakery,” he shrugs with another disarming smile. “Red velvet cake, cream cheese icing, and dark chocolate shavings on top.”
And he’s not wrong. The dark flavors burst in my mouth, sending ripple effects down my spine. The cake and hot chocolate together give me a nervous energy, propelling me toward the next steps of this date. I feel like I could run 26.2 miles now, okay maybe just a half marathon. We both finish our desserts though I have something sweeter in mind.
“Will you walk me out to my car, Peeta?”
Like a gentleman, he does and he waits patiently while I put up my equipment in the trunk.
“Katniss, may I kiss you goodnight—”
He doesn’t get a chance to finish because it’s me that leans in, answering his question with my own response. His lips are surprised but warm up instantly to me. His kisses are warm. His kisses leave me dizzy with want. Amazing kisses. Toe-curling kisses. I feel a swipe of his hot tongue in my mouth and I know that I need more.
He must feel the same way since he’s pulling me closer to him and kissing my jaw and neck, or what he can reach around my sweater. His body is so firm wrapped up with mine, something I’d like to explore more in private.
“Maybe it doesn’t have to be goodnight,” I say to the sinking sun and feel him pause at the shell of my ear, “maybe we can—“ deep breath “maybe we could go back to my place?”
Peeta clears his throat and meets my eyes, “Really?” His eyes cut to the parking lot, realizing that we’re still in a very public place.
“Um, yeah, I don’t live far from here and you could follow me there, if you—if you want to, that is,” I manage, though my confidence is slipping.
“Heck yeah, lead the way!” he says and grins.
“Okay, right, well let’s go,” I say before I change my mind.
If I thought the drive over to the Club was short earlier, this one flew by, my mind racing at the scenario I’ve just proposed. We’ve made it back to my place before I can second guess myself any further.
He parks next to me and follows me to the door, “This is a great location,” he chatters as I unlock it, “I mean, it’s a nice place too,” and then he’s scratching the back of his neck, looking around my sparse apartment.
“Well… as you know, I haven’t been in town very long and it seems like I spend most of my free time out at the Club, trying to compete for your attention with others,” I shrug.
“Compete?“ he laughs and hides his face in his large hand for a moment. “You don’t have any competition anywhere, Katniss,” and this time, it’s him that leans in.
Our lips have barely touched when I ask, “Couch or bed?”
He pulls back to look at me and curls that lip of his under a set of very white teeth. “Honestly, Katniss, whatever happens, you’re calling the shots.”
“Right then, bed it is,” and I pull him into my bedroom.
We spend the next few hours teasing, tasting, and exploring as much of each other as possible since Peeta only has one condom with him. He makes it last though and thoroughly fucks me. My favorite part is probably his ass. I remember checking it out on that very first day, and it’s certainly ample to cup while trying to coax him deeper into my throat or dig my heels into it as I spur him to the orgasms that finally give our bodies peace. My mind wanders just before we drift off to sleep, I just hope he doesn’t have an early shift tomorrow.
~~~~~~
Thank you @papofglencoe for the encouragement and quick beta skills on this third part! It was fun to come out of semi-retirement!
Summary: There should be a hard rule: the guy who steals your coffee order is not allowed to be attractive. Or attend the same university as you. Or be royal.
Summary: In a post war Panem, the male denizens of the districts sacrificed their life to free their people from the corruption of the Capitol, endangering the population of the country. The Sister Wife Initiative was put in place to encourage the procreation of a new generation. But no system is without flaw.
Author’s Note: Hello y'all... I know the deal was to finish a WiP in two weeks in honor of Kika, but I just wasn’t able to do it, even working on this when I was supposed to be sleeping... anyway, here are the first 1000 or so words of Chapter 2 of Sister Wives. I was only able to do minimal editing on this puppy, but I will post the finished fic by the end of October... It's almost complete, and ready for editing!!!
Thank you @promptsinpanem for hosting this “In Memorian” round. Authoreskika will certainly be missed.
KPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPK
After the reception, Peeta brings me to my new home, the place Glimmer, him and I, will share, now that I’ve married him.
He smiles nervously for a moment, “Welcome home!” He says, holding my hand just outside the front steps.
“Thanks,” I whisper. My heart is hammering furiously against my ribs.
He harrumphs, “May I?” He asks, bowing slight.
I’m confused at first, but the then he’s scooping me up and carrying me across the threshold, like I weight nothing, and for one awful second I’m afraid his bad leg will give out and we’ll both fall on our faces, or something equally terrible.
My fears are unfounded. Peeta’s so strong and steady, built like a boulder. He cradles me to his chest, so close, I can feel his heart beating erratically under my body. I’m almost afraid of looking into his face… what if I see some emotion there I can’t reciprocate?
“Welcome to your new home, Katniss. I vow to work tirelessly to make this a loving place for you, warm and safe.” Peeta says, placing me back on my feet. “I’d carry you deeper into the house, but… my leg…” he gestures downward, embarrassedly.
“Don't apologize. Please! I never expected to be walked inside in such a gentle way anyway. Thank you.” I tell him bashfully.
Peeta’s leg got mangled by a rabid dog— a Capitol muttation— originally aimed at his brother, Bannock’s face, during a Capitol’s cowardly ambush on sleeping rebels out in a strip of no-man’s land.
Peeta never talks about it, about his time in the rebel army— neither do his brothers, like they want to keep the horrors of those days in the very far recess of their minds; but the story of how Peeta’s leg got turned to shreds by the hungry, wet maw of a dog-like beast, and he still managed to save a fifth of his squadron, was well documented by the rebel army, and highly publicized in anti Capitol propos.
Rye told a boy once some details were exaggerated, while others got tune down, to make the story more appealing, but he wouldn’t go into further detail. What’s clear is that Peeta sensed danger and tried to rouse his brother and some nearby soldiers. He insisted something felt wrong, and they should secure a perimeter around their camp, but Peeta was the youngest in the company, two weeks shy of 15 at the time, and the other men ignored him and went back to sleep. Peeta couldn’t.
Less than an hour later, a dozen mutts surrounded the camp, and the only reason they didn’t massacre the whole lot of them, was because of Peeta’s vigil.
Many lives were lost that night. Rebels fought the hoard of mutts valiantly to their bitter end, but only so many of them managed to survive the attack and get away from there.
Bannock was fighting a mutt off one of his buddies, when a second beast snuck up on him. Peeta shoved his brother out of the way just in time, at the cost of his leg.
When the war ended, the Mellark brothers came home War Heroes, but all the pomp and circumstance faded, as the reconstruction efforts intensified around the country. I think the boys like it better that way anyway.
“Peeta, darling, you’re finally home!” I'm rudely brought back to reality by Glimmer’s simpering tone, “Look at you! You’re limping!” She chides like a mother hen over her chicks. “Come, I’ll prepare you a bath in my rooms, so you can rest—“
“That’s not the custom!” I blurt out, surprising myself. “As his new bride, it is my responsibility and honor to make his bath and get him comfortable.” Nevermind I haven’t the faintest idea of how to do any of that!
“Nonsense! Peeta’s tired and weary from the party. It dragged on too long without any consideration to his poor leg!”
“The party was the perfect length, Glimmer.” Peeta says calmly, “Thank you, but Katniss is right, I’ll spend the next three nights with my new wife, as is my right.”
“But, she knows nothing on how to take care of a prosthetic leg!”
“I’ll learn!” I counter. Glimmer is right, of course, but I’m a fast learner, and it just rubs me the wrong way she’s rying to stake a claim that isn’t hers to claim.
I did a lot of writing in 2020, but unfortunately not a lot of finishing my writing.
One story I dusted off was Bumps, my Everlark modern AU that portrays a less-than-smooth road to building a family. I tried to churn out another chapter as part of the PiP tribute to Kika / @krousewrites but I ultimately failed.
Assuming the world doesn’t implode completely in the near future, I do plan on continuing. Here’s a snippet for those who may be interested.
——
"Is that the same t-shirt you were wearing Monday?" Prim asked one morning, eying Katniss warily.
"Huh?" Katniss asked with a shrug. She looked down at the gray Panem Wrestling shirt she'd stolen from Peeta's drawer. There were several faded milk stains from when her breasts had leaked between feedings, and an unidentifiable beige spot that she thought might have been from yesterday's lunch. "Maybe?”
Prim narrowed her eyes disapprovingly. "When did you last shower?"
Katniss groaned at the sound of Cara starting to fuss from her bassinet. "Uh... I don't know. Saturday? Sunday?" She tried to think back, but her mind was fuzzy. "What day is it?"
"Katniss!" Prim sighed. "It's Wednesday!"
"Well, I'm sorry, Prim, but I've had a few things on my mind." She picked up the squirming baby and sat on the couch, quickly pulling up her shirt. Cara fussed for only a moment more before latching on. "I can't be worried about things like appearances."
"That's not what I meant," Prim replied, her voice softening as she took a seat beside Katniss. "I'm just worried about you. I just want to make sure you're okay."
Katniss could feel tears coming on, but fought them off. "I'm fine," she said weakly. She doubted she could convince Prim when she barely believed it herself.
“You’re not fine, Katniss,” Prim said. "You aren't taking care of yourself. Are you eating? Sleeping? You need to take some time for you once in a while."
"I'm doing the best I can!" Katniss shouted, the tears falling unstopped now. At the sudden outburst, Cara unlatched from her breast and began crying too. Katniss put her up on her shoulder and began patting her back to burp her.
"She needs to eat all the time! And now the pediatrician is worried she's not gaining weight fast enough. So I'm trying to feed her and pump to increase my supply and make sure she sleeps and... I can't do it all!"
Prim pulled the baby from her arms and resumed the patting motion as she settled down. "You don't have to do it all, Katniss. You have me, and Peeta. Let us help you."
"You can't," Katniss sobbed. "Peeta can't. Nobody can. I'm the mother. It has to be me."
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Some of you would think , why is she finishing it now? The answer is easy: for Kika.
I didn’t have time to post this chapter for @promptsinpanem to honor Kika , but I committed to finish it. Kika was an amazing writer, one of the first Everlark fan Fic writers I read.
I’ll post it soon with the collaboration of another Everlark artist ☺️
