Prompt: Heyyyyy I don’t have a clue how to do this 🤣. But my birthday (I’m also @spookykatnissmellarkkkk ) is on November 16 sooooo I would 👉🏻👈🏻 like to request a oneshot 😘. Post war and sweet are my only two specifications 🥰. Thank y’all 💜🤍
[submitted by loganmarsss (@festivekatnissmellarkkkk)]
Rating: T for non-graphic mentions of sex
Summary: Katniss begins to look toward the future, and Peeta is just happy to share it with her.
Author’s Notes: I’ve had this little scene in my mind for a long time, and I thought it fit the prompt nicely. Happy birthday love, and I hope you enjoy!
______________
“I was thinking,” she says into the darkness, her words muffled from the way her cheek is squashed into Peeta’s chest. It’s early, so early the sun isn’t even peeking over the mountains, but it’s been a hard night, and there’s no going back to sleep for either of them.
He shrugs his shoulder when she doesn’t go on, rolling her head until she’s looking up at his chin, and she plants a kiss there‒just because she wants to, just because she can‒before starting again, “I was thinking…it might be nice to have a buck. For the Fall Festival.”
It’s a new thing, this festival, a way to celebrate the last days of sunlight before the cold, dark winter months set in. This is only the third year it’s been celebrated, but it’s been such a rousing success that they’re almost known for it. There’s even been talk of forming a tourism council, though all three Victors have been staunchly opposed.
“They’ll be in season soon,” she goes on when Peeta doesn’t say anything. “Could feed a lot of people, maybe give away the antlers as a prize or something. I don’t know.”
Peeta’s continued silence makes her feel a little silly. She doesn’t know why she’s bringing it up now, but it’s been on her mind for a few days. Deer hunting isn’t too different from any other kind of hunting she does, but if she wants to bag a buck, she’ll need to make some preparations and do some tracking.
“That sounds great,” Peeta says finally, his voice rough‒with sleep, or emotion, she can’t tell. She wants to ask him what’s wrong, if anything, but before she can, he’s cupping the back of her head in one big hand and tilting her face toward his for a kiss. She accepts eagerly (wonders how she could ever have done anything else), and by the time he’s slipping her nightgown over her head, she’s pulling at his shoulders, trying to roll him on top of her.
They make love with quiet urgency, hands clasped together and held against the mattress above her head. It’s still new, this intimacy, and even though it feels so fragile in the sunlight, there’s never any doubt in her mind when they come together under cover of night. She thinks she could live off the taste of his breath and the feel of his hands on her body. He is every good thing in her world.
After, when the bone-deep contentment of completion has seeped into both of them, Katniss asks, “What was that?”
It’s not a real question, or at least not one that needs answering. She’s teasing mostly, trying to make him understand how the great weight she carries always feels lighter in these precious moments. She’s not expecting a reply.
He gives her one anyway, after he’s gathered her up in his arms again and tucked her against him. She would have hated that once, feeling pliant and manipulated. Now all she feels is safe.
“It’s just good,” he says, pressing his face into the tangle of her hair. “You never talk about the future.”
She inhales, her heart squeezing with a sudden sense of fragility. He’s right‒she doesn’t talk about the future, because she never thinks about the future. It’s hard enough just to get through a single day, and when she starts to imagine the stretch of weeks out into months and years, there’s nothing but a clawing feeling of uncertainty. Nothing is promised. Nothing is safe.
“It’s just good,” Peeta says again as if he can tell what she’s thinking. His hands stroke down her back and along her arms.
And Katniss, unsure and afraid, has to admit that he’s right.
I just want to say thank you. I’ve been craving a more focused spirituality, and you’re the first exposure I’ve really had to secular witchcraft, which is just the thing I was craving. I’ve had a really awful summer, but your posts and suggested readings have helped me stay strong and start practicing in a way that is comforting, empowering, and meaningful. Wishing you all the good luck and vibes. I’m forever grateful.
Aw, thank you! That’s so kind of you to say. I hope you have a better end of the summer and the most excellent autumn as possible.
Prompt: Peeta is an artist volunteering to paint faces at a local fall festival. Katniss is a single mom who takes her daughter to Peeta’s booth to have her face painted. Romance blossoms between Katniss and Peeta, of course! Bonus: Including fall festival/carnival/fair activities, e.g., bobbing for apples, pumpkin games, a ferris wheel, and mentioning fall festival foods. [submitted by @jhsgf82]
Rating: G
Summary: He’s just packing up for the day when he hears the tell-tale wailing of an unhappy child… When he turns toward the commotion, Katniss Everdeen‒at least, he’s pretty sure it’s still Everdeen‒is standing on the other side of the rope, kneeling in front of a crying child that could only be her daughter.
Author’s Note: This is based on a real place my wife and I go every fall, and yes, punkin’ chunkin’ is a real thing ;)
______________
He’s just packing up for the day when he hears the tell-tale wailing of an unhappy child. It’s not uncommon at the face-painting booth, and Peeta’s mostly learned to tune it out anyways, but then a voice says, “I know baby, I’m sorry,” and something pricks in his memory. When he turns toward the commotion, Katniss Everdeen‒at least, he’s pretty sure it’s still Everdeen‒is standing on the other side of the rope, kneeling in front of a crying child that could only be her daughter.
It’s like being punched in the gut. The lifelong crush he’d tried so hard to rid himself of in college comes roaring back to life like a phoenix reborn in the flames, and for a moment he can’t even breathe. He hasn’t seen her in a few years‒since he found out she was having a baby‒but time has been good to her. She’s even prettier than she was in high school, though she’s not any taller. Her hair is shorter, hanging loose around her shoulders, and even though she’s just in old jeans and an oversized green sweater, she is absolutely radiant.
Get a grip, he chides himself. She probably doesn’t even remember you.
Only, when he looks up again, Katniss is looking at him. He only just manages to not stare, but when she gives him a hesitant smile and a small wave, he can’t help smiling back.
“Hey,” she says, picking up her still-crying daughter. “I didn’t know you worked here!”
“I don’t,” he replies, tucking his hands into his pockets and ambling down the empty roped-off line. “I’m volunteering.”
“Oh,” she says, nodding. “That’s really nice of you.”
The conversation seems to stall at that point, and they both stand there awkwardly for a few moments until the little girl in Katniss’ arms lifts her head off her mother’s shoulder and says, “I wanna budderfry.”
“I know, sweetheart,” Katniss says, smoothing the dark hair out of the little girl’s face, “but he’s closed. He has to go home.”
The crying starts up again, and Peeta’s heart breaks a little. Before he knows what he’s doing, he’s reaching for the rope. “Come on back. I’ve got time for one more.”
“Oh, no, that’s okay,” she protests, but she’s barely got the words out before the little girl is struggling in her arms, kicking to be let down, and shouting with joy.
“It’s fine,” Peeta insists, smiling at the child. “I wouldn’t offer if it wasn’t.”
Katniss sighs as her little girl finally wiggles out of her arms and rushes to the chair, scrambling up into the seat all on her own with so much enthusiasm that only Peeta’s arm across the back keeps the whole thing from toppling over. Then, with his heart aching a little in his chest, he says, “I’m Peeta. What’s your name?”
“Amaryllis,” she says proudly.
Peeta whistles, raising his eyebrows at Katniss before turning back to the girl. She’s small, like her mom, with long dark hair in two braided pigtails. “That’s so pretty. Very unique.”
“Issa flower,” she says, smiling. “Like Mama’s name. Can I have a budderfry?”
He laughs. “Of course! What’s your favorite color?”
“Orange!” she proclaims loudly, tugging at her pumpkin-colored corduroy overalls.
“Me too!” Peeta agrees as he starts unpacking his paint kit. “Can you sit still for me while we paint your face?”
Amaryllis nods, freezing comically with her eyes squeezed shut, and in the silence Katniss says, “Thank you.”
He swallows, suddenly more nervous to talk to Katniss than her daughter. “It’s no problem. I’d cry too if I couldn’t get my face painted.”
“Still,” she says. “I really appreciate it. We haven’t been having a very good day.”
“Oh?” he says as he begins to swipe bright orange paint over Amaryllis’ upturned face.
Katniss sighs again, and when Peeta glaces at her she’s looking at the ground, her arms crossed over her chest. “Yeah. I had to go into work; then, I realized today was the last day of the festival, and I promised Lissy we’d go this year, but everything is over by 4:00 or 5:00, and it was already past 4:00 when we got here, and…” She trails off, shaking her head, then says, “Seriously, thank you.”
A plan forms immediately in Peeta’s head, his heart kicking up in his chest. “There’s stuff to do until about 6:00 if you’re intimately acquainted with the festival schedule.”
“Yeah?” Katniss asks, eying him. “Like what?”
“Oh, lots,” he says, trying to be casual. “Apple canons, punkin’ chunkin.’ The candy cannon goes off at 5:00; the last pig race is at 5:30, and the corn maze is open until 6:00.”
Katniss hums, thinking, and says, “Don’t those first things take tokens?”
“We’re poor,” Amaryllis offers with the startling frankness of the very young.
“No,” Katniss says patiently. “We have a nice, warm apartment and all the food we need, and money to pay our bills. We’re not poor.”
He feels a little embarrassed, remembering how she grew up; all the weight she lost when her dad died, the same clothes gone threadbare over years of hard wear, how she’d frequently come to school without either lunch or lunch money.
“Here,” he says, digging into his pocket to pull out a handful of tokens. When Katniss won’t take them, he hands them to Amaryllis, and when Katniss starts to protest, he says, “They give us a bunch for volunteering. I’ve already done everything I want to, and it’s the last day. They’ll just go to waste if you don’t take them.”
“Okay,” Katniss says, though she doesn’t look happy about it. “Thanks. Can I give you some money for them?”
This is it, Peeta. Take your chance.
He makes sure he’s looking at Katniss, that she sees his face when he says, “Why don’t you let me show you around? I can chunk a punkin’ crazy far.”
She smiles, almost in spite of herself, but smothers it immediately as her face turns red. Looking
at her little girl, she says, “I don’t know.”
“Please, Mama?” Lissy says. “He’s nice. He can help us spend the tokens.”
“I’d really like to,” Peeta says. “If you don’t think your boyfriend will mind.”
He’s fishing and he knows it, but he’s pleased when Katniss says, “No boyfriend to mind.”
“My mom and dad aren’t married,” Lissy offers helpfully.
“That’s okay,” Peeta tells her. “My mom and dad aren’t married anymore, either. You ready to see your face paint?”
“Yeah!” she squeals, laughing, and when she smiles, she looks just like her mother.
Prompt: My Birthday is October 20th. I would like an HEA with knights and armor. [submitted by @mega-aulover]
Rating: G
Summary: Alone in the cave, Peeta despairs.
Author’s Note: This prompt inspired sooooo many ideas in me that paring them down into a single story was nearly impossible, so I picked a scene near and dear to all our hearts. Happy birthday darling! I hope you like it. Title from (and fic partly inspired by) Stan Rogers’ song, The Witch of the West Moreland.
_______________
The fever raging through him had left room for only one thought in Peeta’s addled head‒he had woken alone.
After all he had been through, all they’d been through together, Katniss had abandoned him.
And why wouldn’t she, a traitorous voice seemed to whisper. You’re a third son, so sentimental and soft you couldn’t even see your own mother was plotting your demise. This was always meant to be your end.
“Well,” he said to the darkness, “I suppose you got what you wanted, Mother.”
Steam curled up from his mouth, visible now that the light of the dawning sun was creeping into the cave. It was cold, so cold that Katniss had clung to him in the night, but sweat was pouring down his body now, pooling in the blankets beneath him. He’d be dead soon, and all the heartache he’d experienced‒his mother’s betrayal, the days alone in the woods, the fear, the starvation‒still paled in comparison to the gnawing loneliness he could feel now that Katniss was gone. She’d promised she wouldn’t leave him. Surely even his wicked mother wouldn’t wish him to die alone.
But that’s not true, darling, the voice tutted sarcastically. I poisoned you and left you to die, and even that silly girl seems to have come to her senses.
Oh, but that stung‒to have his mother proved right once again. All his life she’d been hurling the words at him: useless, worthless, sentimental. Ill-fated.
Unloveable.
He’d thought Katniss a blessing. Wounded and lost in the woods, far from home and left to die, he’d had no hope of rescue before she’d appeared. She’d come to him silently, seeming to melt out of the dappled sunlight on the forest floor, her clothes handmade, sturdy and worn.
“Are you one of the fair folk?”
When she’d smiled and shaken her head, the dying light had caught in her impossibly gray eyes, and Peeta had fallen hopelessly, helplessly, under her enchantment.
It hurt to think of her now. She’d saved him that first night, tended him, tried to heal him, and he’d thought‒hoped‒that maybe she’d fallen a little in love with him, too. Now, he felt her absence like a knife in the heart, a pain greater than the poison slowly overtaking him. All he wanted in the world was to hold her hand as he died. He’d thought, after everything, that he might be granted at least that.
Then the shadows falling on him shifted, and when Peeta could find the will to move his head, there was a person silhouetted in the mouth of the cave. His heart soared‒Katniss had come back to him.
But no. Katniss wore the simple, homemade garb of her trade. Whoever this intruder was, they were clothed for war, in helm and chainmail, a sword gleaming wickedly at their side. It seemed his mother’s spies had found him.
For a moment, his courage was enough to give him strength. He struggled out of the blankets, limbs shaking with the effort, but when he reached for his sword he discovered one final humiliation. Katniss had taken more than his heart when she’d abandoned him.
The stranger advanced upon him, and Peeta laughed disbelievingly. Lying back in the blankets, he said, “Are you such a coward you’d kill a sick, unarmed man?”
The figure paused, seemingly confused, then pulled off the visored helm. Dark hair tumbled down, a messy braid as long as a man’s arm, and there Katniss was standing before him. She cast both sword and helm aside before kneeling at his shoulder and reaching for his hands with her own.
“You were gone,” he said dumbly, taking in her lovely face. There was a cut across her brow, likely from the helm which would never have fit her head. She was dwarfed by his chainmail, and he marveled at the strength in her small body, that she could carry such a weight so effortlessly.
She shook her head. “No,” she said. “No, I promised I wouldn’t leave you.”
“You were gone,” he said again, “and I thought-”
“I had to do something,” she said, pressing her fingertips to his mouth to silence him. “You were dying. I couldn’t just watch it happen.”
His sweet girl. His brave, wonderful Katniss. “What-?”
“I have it,” she said, smiling as she reached into the bag over her shoulder. “I have the antidote.”
Prompt: It’s pride month! Could I request Everlark celebrating pride? [submitted by anonymous]
Rating: T for some swearing
Wordcount: 870
Summary: Personal identities are weird, even when they feel right.
Author’s Note: This piece showcases some of the author’s opinions about the characters sexual identities. If you can’t handle people being anything but straight this probably isn’t the fic for you.
______________
“Three minutes!” Johanna hollers from the foyer. “Parade starts at ten, and if we don’t get a good spot I’m gonna make it everybody’s problem!”
Katniss is still in the bathroom, but she hears Peeta laugh. “I love how she says that like she doesn’t make everything everybody’s problem.”
“She will leave us,” Katniss shoots back through the open door.
“That’s what Lyft is for.”
Katniss sighs. “You know how I feel about getting into a stranger’s car.”
“I’m ready to go, sweetheart,” he says - a gentle reminder that she’s the one who’s holding them up.
She glances at the counter where her (safe, normal) black tank top lays haphazardly with its straps in the sink, then takes another look at herself in the mirror, her anxiety climbing.
“I know I’ve already said it,” Peeta begins, his tone one of exaggerated nonchalance, “but you really don’t have to come if you’re not comfortable.”
“I’m comfortable,” she snaps. They’ve had this talk half a dozen times at this point. “I want to support you.”
“And that means a lot to me,” he says, “but I know how you feel about big crowds of drunk people, and I’d rather you be comfortable at home than uncomfortable out with me at Pride.”
That makes her feel a little bad. She knows she’s been groaning under her breath every time this weekend has come up in conversation, but it has nothing to do with Pride and everything to do with the aforementioned crowds of drunk people - crowds she’s braved for far less important causes.
“I’m gonna pee!” Johanna yells, “then anyone who’s not in the car is finding another ride!”
“It’s now or never, sweetheart,” Peeta says. Then, when she doesn’t answer, he adds, “I’ll bring you some beads.”
Her rickety bed frame creaks as Peeta climbs to his feet, and Katniss peeks around the bathroom door to watch as he runs his hands back through his already wild curls and shuffles slowly towards the bedroom door, like he wants to leave but there’s a magnet inside him trying to drag him back to her. She knows because she feels the same pull in her chest, like their hearts are tethered together and they can only ever be so far apart, and it’s that gentle tug that finally moves her feet.
Squashing down her fear - what is she even afraid of? Peeta is the most accepting person she knows, and she’s never given a shit what anybody else thinks - she steps out of the bathroom, looking at the scuffed toes of her boots. Even with her eyes firmly on the floor it’s hard to miss the way Peeta’s eyes light up when he sees her.
“Hey!” he says excitedly. “You’re wearing-”
“I am,” she says quickly, cutting him off. She pulls self-consciously at the hem of her crop top as Peeta wisely bites his tongue - literally, she can see him clamping his mouth shut - and they stare at each other for a few long moments before she asks, “Is it okay?”
Katniss immediately feels stupid. It’s her goddamn crop top on her goddamn body. Why is she asking Peeta if it’s okay? She doesn’t care what he thinks about however she chooses to identify.
She doesn’t.
Like he can read her mind, he says, “It’s your shirt, Katniss. Do you think it’s okay?”
“Yes,” she replies, trying not to snap and only just barely succeeding. She wants to leave it at that, but her stupid mouth keeps moving. “Do you think it’s right?”
She’s so annoyed when he asks, “Do you think it’s right?”
While she’s fumbling for a response, caught between her annoyance and an irritating fondness, Peeta reaches for her. He slings an arm around her waist, and she doesn’t resist when he pulls her in close. She’s eye level with the pink stripe that makes up the shoulders of his t-shirt, a garishly happy rendition of the bi pride flag, and she’s grateful, not for the first time, that her own shirt is monochrome, except for the purple stripe.
“You’re the only one,” she says, burying her face against his chest so that her words are muffled. “I used to think something was wrong with me. One time freshman year Madge told me she thought Gale was hot, and I just thought she was crazy, or… that I was broken, or something.”
Peeta rubs circles into her back, trying to distract her as he turns them around and starts walking her, backwards, out the open bedroom door. She doesn’t fight him.
“You’re not broken,” he says gently. “You’re perfect.”
She laughs a little. “You have to say that, you’re my boyfriend.”
“I thought you were perfect even when I wasn’t your boyfriend,” he says, kissing the top of her head. Then, before she can protest, he swings her up into his arms and over his shoulder so he can carry her down the stairs.
“Hey!” Johanna says excitedly, almost shouting to be heard over Katniss’ shrieking laughter. “You’re wearing the shirt!”
“One more member of the alphabet mafia,” Peeta says proudly, marching right out the front door that Johanna holds open for him.
“Fuck yeah!” Johanna shouts. “Let’s go to Pride!“
***
Further Author’s Note: In case it isn’t clear, Katniss is demi - and we all know Johanna is a big ol’ lesbian.
Prompt: Hello! My birthday is April 2 and I would adore a birthday drabble 😃Prompt: Peeta is Katniss’ 4 year old son’s soccer coach. He’s 21, she’s 25. He’s been lusting after her all season. Finally, the season is over and he doesn’t have to worry about a potential relationship with her getting him fired. He has no idea she wants him too but is scared of the age gap between them. How their relationship starts off is up to you. Smut happens. Please make it a happily ever after! 😃 [submitted by @mrspeetamellark]
Rating: Explicit
Summary: Soccer season is over, but neither Katniss nor Peeta are ready to let go of their mutual attraction.
Author’s Note: Here’s part 2! There’s smut!
____________
Dinner had gone well.
So well, in fact, that when Peeta crowded her up against the passenger side of his car Katniss was already pushing up on her toes to meet his kiss. She’d worn her hair loose down her back, and he threaded his fingers through it, cradling the back of her head and guiding her where he wanted her. The move made her whimper. She couldn’t believe how turned on she was, and he hadn’t even put his tongue in her mouth yet. Hell, he hadn’t even put his hand on her thigh at dinner. She’d worn a short skirt just to tempt him, but he’d been a perfect gentleman, and by the time they’d paid the bill she’d almost given up hope that she’d get more than a goodnight kiss out of him on the first date.
Now he was pushing against her, kissing her like he needed it to breathe. The car door was cool against her back, but it only served to highlight how warm Peeta was beneath his blue button-up. She pulled at his shirttail, bunching it in one hand until she could slip the other up the back of his shirt and flatten her palm against his skin, and she felt a tremor run through him at the touch. He was half hard, his erection pressing against her belly, and Katniss felt rational thought slipping away from her. They were in a public parking lot, and even though it was dark anyone could have walked by. That didn’t stop her from hitching her leg up around his hip, or from wrapping her legs around his waist when he grasped the backs of her thighs and pulled her off her feet, pinning her to the car with his body. He felt so good pressed against her, and she wanted him in a way she’d never wanted anybody.
Pulling back from the kiss, she braced her arms against the car and used the leverage to rock against him, drawing a rumbling moan from deep in his chest that she felt more than heard. She wanted more of that noise, wanted to ring it out of him, wanted to watch him fall apart.
She wanted to know what he tasted like.
The idea took hold of her as she squirmed against him, imagining the shape of him through his jeans, the weight of him in her palm - against her tongue.
Peeta let her go when she pushed at his shoulders, even made to take his hands off her, but Katniss didn’t give him the chance. She looped an arm around his waist to keep him close to her, and dug into the front left pocket of his jeans, where she could feel the keys. When the door was unlocked, she pulled it up, maneuvered them around, and pushed Peeta down to sit on the edge of the back seat.
He gave a huffing laugh, but the noise cut off into a pleased groan when she pulled his hands from her waist and forced them down onto the seat.
“Holy shit,” he breathed when she reached for his belt buckle.
***
“Wait,” he said, one hand on her shoulder and the other across his eyes, like he could somehow block out the sight of her on her knees, her kiss-swollen lips parted in anticipation.
“Um,” Katniss said when he didn’t move. “Is this - is this okay?”
“Jesus,” he swore. “Yeah, it’s okay. It’s great.”
“But?”
Peeta sighed, and rubbed a hand over his face. “But - look, don’t laugh, but I didn’t come out with you to get laid.”
He wanted to kick himself when her face fell with a quiet, “Oh.”
“No,” he said, placing both his hands over hers, trapping them on his knees when she tried to remove them. “No, I mean, I hoped I would, uh, but-” He gripped her wrists, squeezing gently until she looked at him. “I wasn’t looking for a one night stand. I wanna take you out again. I like you.”
She smiled shyly, seemingly unaware that she was kneading at the flesh under her hands. “I like you too,” she murmured, fingertips pressing into his knees. “And for the record, I don’t normally give blow jobs in parking lots.”
He wasn’t proud of the way his cock jumped when she said blow job. She was still smiling and flushed, obviously embarrassed by her own admission even as she placed one hand over his erection, squeezing gently.
“I just wanted you to know,” he said, taking her face in his hands. “Before you…just, before.”
She surged up against him, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the underside of his chin, the pulse point in his throat, the tender spot behind his ear. “And I,” she said as her fingers curled around his belt buckle, “I just… want.”
***
Her knees clenched when she finally got her hand around him, desire igniting like wildfire on dry tinder. He groaned as she pumped him, liking the feel of him, hot and heavy in her palm. That crazed feeling was back - her mouth was actually watering, and the noise he made when she rubbed her thumb over the head of his cock just made her hungrier. She couldn’t believe that she was on her knees in a public parking lot about to blow a guy after just one date. She’d never wanted a man more in her life.
She started with a long, slow lick from root to tip, savoring the way her name fell, strangled, from his lips as she followed the same path back down with wet, suckling kisses. With her free hand she pushed his shirt up his stomach, spreading her fingers across his abs to feel the way the muscles jumped when she took as much of him into her mouth as she could. He had one arm thrown across the headrest, but the other hand was laying beside him on the seat, his knuckles white.
Pulling her mouth off of him, she reached for his hand and said, “You can touch, just don’t… push.”
“Something tells me you’d bite my dick off,” he said with a breathless smile as he wove his fingers through her hair, cupping the back of her head.
She hummed in agreement as she licked him again, tongue swirling around the head of his cock. He swore under his breath, fingers pulling at her hair, and the mingled pain mixed with the pleasure of having him in her mouth and shot straight to her core. She moaned as she closed her mouth around him, aching to have him inside her, and fantasized about the face he would make if she shimmied out of her panties and straddled him right there in the back seat of his car. He was already barely keeping it together - if she climbed onto him, he’d lose it.
Then, like he could read her mind, he said, “Fuck, I’m gonna come.” He made a small attempt to push her head away from his lap, but she wouldn’t let him, and when she was done swallowing he pulled her up into his lap for a slow, wet, absolutely filthy kiss.
“What can I do for you,” he asked, fingers already skimming up her thigh to creep across her soaked panties.
“Take me home and return the favor?”
***
Peeta woke suddenly, pulled from deep sleep by something unidentifiable. A storm was brewing outside, but the room was still dark. The clock read 3:47.
“Peeta,” Katniss said, obviously not for the first time, and that was all it took for him to be wide awake.
“Is it go-time?” he asked, already pushing the blankets off and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. From her own side, Katniss was doing the same.
“I think so, but I wanna shower first,” she said as he came around the bed to help her stand. “Can you call Gale and tell him to come get Asher?”
“You got it,” he replied. “You need help stepping into the tub?”
Katniss laughed. “I haven’t needed help for the last nine months, and I don’t need help now.”
Peeta made an unhappy noise, and dropped her hands to cup her sizable belly. “Are you gonna be this stubborn?” he asked, directing his question downward.
“No doubt in my mind,” she said, placing her hands over his. Standing on tiptoe, she kissed his chin. “Make me eggs and toast before we go?”
Prompt: My birthday is in two weeks! I have an Earth Day birthday (April 22), and I know Katniss cares about trees and the environment. I’m pretty sure Peeta would find a way to make sure to recycle. Think anyone would like to write that for me? I’d be delighted to read that. <3 [submitted by @hutchhitched]
Rating: PG-13 for the fuck word
Summary: The first time Katniss Everdeen talks to him - actually talks, like with words instead of furtive glances - it’s to tell him he’s been throwing his trash away wrong.
Author’s Note: A little bit of desperate, pining!Peeta. The title is a joke about certain lifestyles, obviously, and I can’t take credit for it.
__________
The first time Katniss Everdeen talks to him - actually talks, like with words instead of furtive glances - it’s to tell him he’s been throwing his trash away wrong.
“What?” he says, not quite sure he’s heard her correctly over the din of the student union cafeteria. He still kind of can’t believe they wound up at the same school.
“That plastic water bottle is recyclable,” she says again, stalking toward him carrying the same ratty backpack and wearing the same worn hiking boots she’d sported all through Senior High. For one beautiful, fleeting moment he thinks she might be moving in for the awkward “hey, someone I know from high school” hug, but when she gets to him all she does is glance pointedly between him and the trash can.
“Oh,” he says stupidly when he finally realizes what she’s getting at. Fishing the bottle out of the trash, he looks at the other options. “Green is recycling.”
“Green is compost,” she says shortly.
It even says ‘COMPOST’ in big letters above the green trash can. Fuck. Why can he suddenly not read?
She takes some pity on him, and points to the blue can. He trashes the offending bottle with much more enthusiasm than was probably necessary, practically slam dunking it.
“Thank y-” he starts, but the words die on his lips as he turns to face her. She’s already halfway across the cafeteria, and she doesn’t even look back.
***
They wind up in Environmental Economics and Policy together. Peeta has some vague ideas about turning his parents’ bakery into a green business, and Katniss has some very concrete ideas about the changes necessary to correct the planet’s current path to self-destruction. He knows this because she sits down next to him, eyes his single-use plastic water bottle while they exchange meaningless pleasantries, and then jumps right into the subject matter along with the teacher. He hears her voice more in that first week of class - three classes, each an hour long - than he did the entire time they were in school together, and it doesn’t do a goddamn thing to squash the crush he’s been trying to get rid of since middle school.
He’d thought maybe with college he could let go of it. He’d never had a girlfriend, never even really looked at another girl, and he’d always known that was a little weird but he’d never let it bother him. Part of him thinks he should find it a little off-putting, watching Katniss do her best impersonation of Hermione Granger, but it has exactly the opposite effect. He always figured she was smart, but now he knows she’s smart; always suspected she was passionate, but now it’s on display for the entire class, and before he can think about it he’s coordinating a study group and practically begging her to join since, “she obviously has a passion for the subject matter.”
“Sure,” she says as she’s packing up her bag at the end of class. “But do me a favor?”
“Anything,” he says, not at all caring that he’s acting exactly the opposite of cool and disinterested.
“Stop buying bottled water.”
He books it to Walmart as soon as his last class gets out and picks up two reusable water bottles, a hot beverage mug, and a recycle bin for his dorm room.
He passes on the compost bin, but it’s a close thing.
Prompt: Everlark roadtripping/camping in a campervan for the summer. Where do they go? What do they do/see? What memories are made? Can be tied to a holiday. Writer's choice :) [submitted by @daydreamsandcaffeine]
Rating: M for sexytimes
Summary: Katniss just wants to take a roadtrip with her boyfriend, but when a bad day and her own complicated feelings threaten to ruin the best thing that's ever happened to her, she does the only thing she can think of - she pulls away
Luckily for her, Peeta is up for a chalenge.
Author’s Note: There's a part two of this coming soon. Enjoy! Wordcount: 1073
_______________
“So the wedding is on the eighth,” Peeta said, his eyes fixed on the Google map open on his laptop.
Katniss nodded. “Right.”
“And you want to leave on the second.”
She nodded again.
“And you wanna see five national parks in six days?” he pressed, his voice skeptical.
“I’ve never been out west before,” she protested gently.
He laughed and squeezed her knee. “I’m not saying no. I just think we need more time. Like another week.”
She made an unhappy noise, laying her hand over his. “I don’t think I can afford to take two and a half weeks off of work.”
“A problem that would be solved if you’d just move in with me.”
She pulled her hand away. “You’ll probably be sick of me after a week.”
_____
She took three weeks off. She hadn’t wanted to accept Peeta’s offer to help her pay her bills that month, but in the end the draw of the outdoors - of actually being able to hike, and sightsee - had won out. They’d even added another park to the end of their trip.
She’d sworn up and down that she would pay him back, that it was just a loan so they could make the most of their first vacation together. They’d been dating almost a year, and between their siblings and roommates they’d never had more than a weekend alone together. She wanted to spend more time with him, and more than that, she wanted to do it in the most beautiful natural places the country had to offer - places her dad had talked about, places he’d promised to take her before he’d died.
It hurt her heart in the most profound way, to think of hiking up Angel’s Landing without him, but now that the chance to make that hike was within her reach it hurt her more to think of not going.
She would have given anything to have her father with her, but she would take Peeta in his stead and love him the best she could for as long as he stayed with her.
_____
“Never?”
Peeta shook his head, smiling at her from the driver’s seat.
Katniss couldn’t contain her disbelief. “Not even once?”
“Does summer camp count?”
She laughed. “Not usually.”
Peeta’s smile slipped a little, and he turned his face away from her to check the mirrors as he drove. “My mom,” he said, “she was never big on the idea.”
Katniss didn’t know what to say to that. It was the worst kept secret in town that Mrs. Mellark was a joyless, soul-sucking Bible-thumper who was responsible for the bruises her youngest son wore to school every Monday. CPS had been involved more than a handful of times, but nothing had ever come of it. There was no doubt in her mind that Mrs. Mellark had never wanted anything to do with a vacation as unglamorous as camping. An all-inclusive five-star resort would have been much more her speed.
“Well,” she said finally, “I think you’re going to like it.”
_____
“You were right,” Peeta said, his eyes glued to the gentle bounce of her breasts as she rode him. “I like camping. I really like camping.”
Katniss laughed, breathless. “You’ve said that every single time we’ve had sex on this trip.”
Which had been a lot. Every night, most mornings, and once just off a trail in the Great Smokeys when she’d been so perfectly content that she’d decided she couldn’t wait until they got back to the car.
His hands skimmed over her ribs to palm her breasts, then he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down against him. The air mattress squeaked alarmingly as he dug his heels in and began to thrust up into her, his pace just edging on brutal. “I’ll stop saying it when it stops being true,” he panted, his breath hot on the damp skin of her neck.
Any reply she might have made was lost in a long, drawn-out moan as he held her to his chest and fucked her, and after - after she’d come so hard the wetness had run down her thighs - she snuggled into his side, laughing, and said, “I love camping. I love you.”
_____
Things started to sour when they hit the Texas border. It was almost 12 hours from Texarkana to Big Bend, and it had been pouring rain when they’d broken camp. They’d argued over where to stop for breakfast, then again when it was time to stop for lunch. The miles seemed to wear on, especially once they left Fort Worth and the land turned flat and brown. They picked at each other the whole day, arguing over everything from where to stop for gas to whether or not lying was ever morally justifiable (a real sore spot for Peeta, who’d lied so convincingly to Child Services that he’d been allowed to stay in a home with a woman who’d taken her every frustration out on him). By the time they’d checked into the Chisos Campground, they hadn’t spoken in almost an hour.
“I’m so glad this day is over,” Peeta said, once they were safely nestled inside the truck bed tent. He was laying on his back beside her, taking up most of the room on the air mattress with his broad shoulders and splayed legs, and for the first time in her life Katniss was annoyed with that too.
It was still easy to let Peeta pull her in against his side, easy to rest her head on his shoulder, drape her leg across his hips, and tuck herself into his side.
But sleep eluded her. Her mind was racing, replaying every argument and concocting new ones for them to have later - maybe hiking the next day, maybe a week from now at Finnick and Annie’s wedding. How many little arguments would they have to have before the big one that sent Peeta running.
And he wanted her to move in, to rearrange her entire life for something that was only going to end.
By the time the sky began to lighten, she was exhausted and heartbroken. She dressed as quietly as she could before grabbing her pack and climbing out of the tent. She shot Peeta a quick text to say she’d gone hiking, that she would be back before lunch, and took off on foot for the closest trailhead.
