Note: Just to clarify, English is not my first language, and if anything is wrong, I apologize and ask for your understanding.
Contains: misunderstood feelings, unspoken love, a quick kiss, conversation about the future.
Katniss Everdeen is not driven by romance — but that was never the problem.
She doesn’t know how to name her feelings. She doesn’t know how to feel them, or how to express them.
And then there’s you.
What was supposed to be a simple friendship, born from the unfortunate fact that you were forced to participate in another Hunger Games, slowly turned into an imperceptible kind of admiration.
She sees herself in you, even though you come from very different districts.
During the Games, the two of you grew close. The difference was that you had already lost the person you loved.
Unconsciously, Katniss admires your strength in carrying that grief — because she doesn’t know what she would do if she ever lost Peeta.
When the Games end and she becomes the symbol of the revolution, you worry about her. And she notices.
You sit beside her. You talk when she wants to talk, and you stay quiet when she only needs to think. You support the plan to rescue Peeta. You give advice.
And when you’re not around, she notices. She looks for you just to ask anything. She does small things without realizing it, just to keep you close. When someone else stands too near you, she feels uncomfortable — even if she doesn’t know why.
And most importantly:
You are there when the nightmares come.
And then, one more night, she wakes up screaming — dreaming of the Games all over again.
Katniss wakes up gasping, her body rigid, the air trapped in her chest.
It’s the third time this week.
You hear it from your room and reach hers as fast as you can.
“Katniss, are you okay? Another nightmare?”
She nods. She doesn’t trust her voice.
You already know what she’s going to ask, so you spare her the words.
You sit on the edge of the bed. She stiffens for a moment, then leans into your chest — like it’s instinct.
“When this is all over,” you whisper, “I swear I’ll do everything I can to keep you away from anything that reminds you of this.”
She lifts her head slightly to look at you.
“These dreams probably won’t ever go away.”
“Then I’ll stay,” you say. “Every night. To help you through them.”
A small, almost invisible smile appears on her lips. The silence that follows is soft.
“When it’s over,” she murmurs, “you, me, and Peeta. Somewhere far away.”
You let out a quiet laugh. You like seeing her dream — even if it’s only a little.
But then you realize you’re looking at her for too long.
She freezes. She isn’t used to hearing that from you.
Her heart stutters. Her cheeks warm. She doesn’t understand why — only that it feels good. She has always thought you were strong, incredible. Knowing you see something good in her matters more than she expects.
“Thank you,” she says softly.
“It’s not a compliment,” you reply. “It’s a fact.”
You look at each other again. She doesn’t quite know what she’s doing when she tilts her head toward you — and you do the same.
Your lips meet in a short kiss. Brief. Gentle. Enough.
Her heart races, and she settles back against your chest.
“Sorry,” she murmurs.
You don’t answer. You just run your fingers through her long, dark hair, slow and steady, until she falls asleep — safe in your arms.
She doesn’t know it yet.
But she’s going to want to kiss you many more times.
What do you think of a fanfic about Katniss Everdeen x a female reader? I'm completely in love with it and crazy about everything related to The Hunger Games.
no one will ever be more annoying than a girl who decided that she was katniss everdeen at 7 y old after reading the hunger games for the first time (yes im talking about me)
Katniss had never heard the phrase “happy wife, happy life” until you entered her world, carrying your worn-out romance novels like they were sacred. You read them with dog-eared pages and ink-smudged notes in the margins, the kind of books Katniss would’ve dismissed as silly in any other life. But somehow, when you quoted them—half-joking, half-sincere—they felt like lifelines. Words like that one, light and whimsical, tucked themselves into the back of her mind before she even realized they meant something.
It was during her time in District 13, when everything felt cold and gray, and she was still trying to process the ruins of what once was District 12. Home had been reduced to ash and memory. Peeta had been taken by the Capitol, leaving her adrift with no anchor. Haymitch tried to help, in his own battered, blunt way, but he couldn't reach her—not when his own wounds were still bleeding. Prim was sweet and gentle, but Katniss had never leaned on her. She was the protector, not the protected. And her mother… well, her mother had never been someone she could fall apart with.
Then you appeared. A flash of soft sunlight against cement walls. Katniss first noticed you in the cafeteria, skipping past tables with a hum in your throat and a tray balanced on your fingertips like it was the easiest thing in the world. You looked oddly familiar—bright smile, tanned skin, long dark-blond hair that curled at the ends. It wasn’t until Prim leaned over and whispered, “That’s Finnick’s little sister,” that everything clicked into place. You shared his warmth, his effortless charm, but your presence felt lighter, like someone who still believed in good things despite everything.
Katniss found herself looking for you without meaning to. A subtle glance when you passed in the hallway. A moment longer than necessary watching you laugh at someone’s joke. And when she visited Finnick one afternoon, there you were—curled up near his bunk, book in hand, and eyes lighting up as you met hers. You smiled, wide and toothy, and slid into conversation like you’d always known each other. For someone who had never been good at talking to strangers, Katniss surprised herself by how easy it was with you.
From that day on, you were simply… there. Bringing her soup when she skipped meals. Guiding her trembling hands through a nightmare. Sitting beside her during long silences without demanding anything in return. You didn’t try to fix her, didn’t push. You just stayed, soft and steady. And for the first time since Peeta, Katniss felt seen. Not as the Mockingjay, not as a soldier, not as a symbol—but as a girl who was trying to survive something she couldn’t name.
And then, everything cracked again.
The Capitol fell. So many were lost. Finnick. Prim. The world reshuffled its weight and left you both staggering. Katniss was sent home, quiet and hollow. She waited as long as she could before boarding the train, stalling in hopes of catching one last glimpse of you. She sat by the window the whole way back to District 12, eyes searching for your face in every crowd. But you never came.
Weeks passed. She tried to plant things. Flowers, mostly. It helped, a little. The earth was quiet and didn’t ask her questions. Then one day, without warning, she looked up from the soil and there you were—kneeling in her garden next to Peeta, hair shorter now, dulled in color, face thinner, but still unmistakably you. You were helping plant a primrose bush. Your fingers moved through the dirt like they belonged there, and when you looked up at her, your smile flickered like it was remembering how to exist.
Later, when you sat beside her on the porch with lemonade and tired eyes, you laughed softly and muttered something about “happy wife, happy life.” Katniss raised a brow. You told her it was from one of your silly books, the kind with messy kisses and quiet mornings and people who made each other better. Katniss didn’t say anything in return—just leaned into you and let her hand find yours in the space between them.
The words echoed in her later that night, when your head rested against her shoulder and your breathing evened out. It wasn’t something she’d ever imagined for herself—this softness, this slowness. But you had brought it, piece by piece. And for once, she didn’t feel like she had to earn it.
Katniss didn’t expect to ever get married. Even after you came back into her life, even after the long, slow rebuilding of trust and warmth and mornings spent shoulder to shoulder in the garden—it still felt like a foreign concept. Marriage had always sounded like something for other people, for people who weren’t broken in places that couldn’t be seen. But when she looked at you, arms dusted in flour, hair tucked behind your ear as you laughed at something Peeta said, it didn’t feel like a question anymore. Just a quiet inevitability. A promise she was already keeping.
The wedding was small. No white dress or grand speeches. Just a patch of wildflowers in a clearing, a couple of rings made from twisted wire, and a few close friends who had become family. You squeezed her hand as you recited your vows, voice shaking just enough to make her throat tighten. Katniss, who had faced death more times than she could count, was afraid of very few things. But standing there with you, trembling and smiling, she realized love was the bravest thing she’d ever let herself do.
Married life with you wasn’t a sweeping romance. It was domestic and quiet and filled with rhythms that settled into her bones like second nature. You filled the house with warmth—real warmth, the kind that came from small things. You made tea for her when she got headaches. You left notes on the kitchen counter, simple and sweet: “Don’t forget your coat, love.” “Saved the last muffin for you.” “Come back to bed, it’s cold without you.”
Katniss began to understand that saying you’d always quoted—“happy wife, happy life”—not as something silly or soft, but as something profoundly true. Because when you were happy, when your laughter filled their little home or your shoulders relaxed into her touch, Katniss felt grounded. She felt like maybe the world didn’t have to be so cruel, not when you still chose her every single day.
She took care of you in her own way—quietly, instinctively. She made sure the firewood was stacked high before the winter months hit. She brought home your favorite kind of jam when she came back from the market. She didn’t always have the words to tell you how much you meant to her, but you saw it in the way she reached for your hand under the table, in the way she kissed your temple after nightmares, in how she always let you sleep in on the mornings you looked worn out.
And it was in the simple, daily acts that Katniss found peace. You’d hum softly while brushing your hair by the window. She’d curl against your back after a long day. You still read those worn-out romance novels, and Katniss pretended not to care—but she’d often listen closely from the kitchen, her lips twitching when you read the especially cheesy lines out loud on purpose, just to get a reaction.
Some days were harder than others. There were still scars—physical and otherwise. Some nights, she still woke up sweating, heart pounding, eyes wide in the dark. But you were always there. You never asked her to be anyone else. You never pushed. You just wrapped your arms around her, whispered that she was safe, and held on.
Years passed quietly. The pain didn’t vanish, but it softened at the edges. And Katniss, once all sharp corners and bristled silence, became someone who smiled without needing a reason. Someone who looked at you, messy hair and all, and thought, “This is what I was fighting for. This is what I didn’t know I needed.”
You were her safe place. And she had become yours.
“Happy wife, happy life,” you would still tease whenever she brought you coffee in bed or let you hog the quilt. Katniss would roll her eyes, but her smile always gave her away.
She had lived through hell. But with you, she finally learned how to live.
And every time she looked at you across the room, or caught your reflection in the window while you sang to yourself and folded laundry, she knew one thing for certain: it wasn’t just a saying.
It was the life she chose, the love she grew, the peace she never thought she'd deserve—and finally did.
A.N.: Sorry this took me so long! Hope you like it! I totally forgot where Katniss is supposed to make her move in lol rip.
You wandered around what was being rebuilt in district 12. The crater in the middle of the town was slowly being filled in and you had heard plans of a monument being built on top of it once it was flat enough. You weren’t from 12 but this was the last district of your plan of visiting them all to see how they were faring after the war ended. You had won the 69th hunger games. The ruins of the districts reminded you of your arena and you weren’t too sure where you wanted to end up. You definitely knew you couldn't go back home. Finnick wouldn’t be there and you couldn’t face everyone when it should’ve been you.
The sound of the nearby construction was loud and put you on edge. You gripped at your shirt as your head started to feel like it was being squeezed. The meadow. Katniss said the meadow. You walked as fast as you could, district 12 rushing by you in a haze as you quickly found yourself surrounded in high grass and flowers. The nearby forest provided the sounds of birds and water as you felt your breathing pick up. You stripped your jacket off, the brisk spring air hit you and you sighed a little in relief. You sat on your jacket on the ground and tried the breathing exercises your therapist had taught you. It wasn’t working as well as it did in the session and the air around you felt tantalizing as you didn’t feel as though you weren’t breathing at all.
The memories were starting as you sat in the meadow. The birds chirping faded into the background as you were surrounded by the tributes you had killed to survive. The boy from district 12 clung to a piece of the building as the district 2 girl was throwing knives at him. You rushed her with your short sword and felt the hot sticky blood run down your hands as she choked on her own blood. You were only 12 when you had been reaped and it had scared you deeply. You watched in horror as the district 1 boy threw the district 12 boy down onto the ground from his little safety and smashed his skull in with his boot.
Your throat felt raw as you felt hands on you. You reflexly put up a fight. The capitol wouldn’t get you now. You had so much more to live for.
“You’re safe. You’re safe.” The dark haired woman repeated at you as she hugged you in your spot in the meadow. You had found Katniss before in the throws of her memories before but hadn’t let anyone see you like this before. Katniss knew, they all knew, and so when she said when you were in district 12 the meadow to the east of the town was the best spot to calm down, you believed her.
You slowly relaxed into the hold and stopped trying to fight your rescuer. You could smell the leather of her jacket and the sweetness of the flowers around you. She was running a hand through your hair as she hummed a song to calm you down. She was humming a song you had never heard her sing before and you knew she hated to sing in front of people. You hesitantly looked up at her and she smiled at you. Her hair was in its standard braid and her bow was set down beside her. She had been hunting for something to give to those in the district who needed the extra food right now. She told you about it in a letter a week or so ago.
“I didn’t know you were coming to visit, Bug. You never sent a letter.” She continued to massage your scalp as you stared up at her.
“I wanted to surprise you.” You whispered out to her. Your throat felt raw and your voice sounded strained.
“You certainly did surprise me. You scared off all the game within 4 miles.” She had a mischievous glint to her eyes you hadn’t seen before.
“Sorry.” You whispered. “Didn’t mean to.”
“Think you’re okay to walk now?” She stopped running her hand through your hair and grabbed your hand instead.
You didn’t answer with words but instead opted to start standing up. Your head hurt and your limbs were moving in slow motion but she was patient with you as you put your jacket back on and moved to follow her towards her cabin. She decided after the war that she couldn’t stomach living in the victors village so she had Johanna come help her build a small cabin off in the woods. You started to hum the song she used to calm down as you shuffled behind her. The rough dirt turned into a smooth road leading to her cabin as you drew your jacket closer around you, her hand still in yours.
“How long were you going to visit?” She opened the door to her cabin. A cat rubbed itself along your legs as she put her leather jacket on a hook by the door. The cabin smelled of lavender and pine and Katniss. You reached down and scratched the orange cat under its chin.
“I don’t know.” You replied honestly. You still hadn’t decided where you were going to go after you saw the districts.
“Stay here with me Bug. I’ve missed you.” She stated. Katniss was never one to lay out her emotions like this. The end of the war brought on a lot of heartache for her but you guessed her therapy was going very well.
“The view is definitely worth it.” You commented as you took a seat at her dining table. Your eyes never strayed from her and you could swear there were hints of pink to her cheeks as she sat down across from you.
You sat in silence for a few minutes. You both were lost in your thoughts trying to think of something to say. It was a comfortable silence as you chewed on your bottom lip.
“Peeta still lives in the victor village.” She offered. “He helps Haymitch when I can’t.”
“I’ll stay.” You decided. Katniss’s smile reached her eyes.
hii!! love your works, and ive had this request on my mind for a while :3 think you could do a peeta x reader x katniss modern au where they're all roomies and college students, please? thnx!!! <3
Roomates | School!Katniss x reader x Schhol!Peeta
Pairings: Peeta x reader (platonic), Katniss x reader (platonic), Peeta x Katniss (platonic)
Type of fic: Comedy, Comfort
Warnings: None
Summary: Living with Katniss and Peeta is pretty chaotic to say the least, but truly you wouldn’t trade it for anything.
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The apartment was a mess.
Not a disaster, but definitely in that lived-in by college students who barely have their lives together kind of way. A few empty takeout containers littered the kitchen counter, a pile of textbooks was stacked precariously on the coffee table, and someone’s socks—probably Peeta’s—were abandoned by the couch.
You sighed, stepping over the socks as you made your way into the kitchen, still groggy from your nap. Katniss sat at the table, legs curled beneath her, flipping through one of her textbooks. Peeta was at the stove, humming to himself as he stirred something in a pot.
“You’re cooking?” you asked, rubbing your eyes.
Peeta grinned over his shoulder. “Someone has to, and since Katniss was about to eat dry cereal straight from the box—”
Katniss shot him a look but didn’t deny it.
You smirked and flopped into the chair across from her. “What’s on the menu, chef?”
“Pasta,” Peeta said. “Simple, easy, and something we won’t burn.”
“We?” Katniss snorted. “You’re the only one cooking in here.”
“That’s why I’m in charge of food,” Peeta said smugly.
You smiled, watching them banter. Living with Katniss and Peeta had been an adjustment at first—Katniss was reserved and prickly, Peeta was too damn nice for his own good, and you were somewhere in between, playing peacekeeper when their personalities clashed. But over time, the three of you had found a rhythm.
You were a unit now. A weird, chaotic, sometimes dysfunctional unit—but a unit nonetheless.
Peeta turned to grab plates, and your eyes flicked to Katniss. She was still staring at her textbook, but you noticed the way her fingers tapped idly against the edge of the table. She was distracted.
“What’s wrong?” you asked.
She glanced up, then back down. “Nothing.”
“Liar,” Peeta called from the kitchen.
Katniss sighed and shut her book. “It’s just… this exam tomorrow. I don’t know if I’m ready.”
“You’ll be fine,” you reassured her. “You always say that, and then you end up getting one of the highest scores in the class.”
Peeta set a plate of pasta in front of each of you before sitting down himself. “Yeah, and if it goes terribly, at least we’ll have a dramatic story to tell about how you bombed an exam and still somehow managed to graduate.”
Katniss rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at her lips.
The three of you ate together, talking about nothing and everything—your classes, the weird guy from your philosophy lecture, the upcoming campus party that none of you wanted to go to but might get dragged to anyway.
It was simple. Comfortable.
And maybe you didn’t want to think too hard about the way your heart felt full whenever you were with them. The way Peeta always made you feel warm and safe, or how Katniss made your pulse race when she let her guard down.
Maybe you didn’t need to think about it at all.
Because whatever this was—whatever the three of you were—it felt right.
Hey i love your work and i have a request can u make katniss slowly realizing she has feelings for fem!reader while having to secretly date/protect peeta pls and thank you 😊 ❤️
hello! thank you so much anon, and i formatted this as hcs because i wasn't sure of a good scenario for this, i hope that's okay <3
katniss everdeen x reader.
• the two of you were always best friends growing up, like from the age of 5.
• katniss had always only seen you as a friend, due to the fact that she really had no clue that she liked girls in the slightest
• when she turned 13 she realized she DID like girls, but she never realized which girl she specifically liked.
• obviously when she was 16, she got sent to the hunger games, and during her time in the arena, she had realized the fact that she did indeed have a crush on her girl best friend
• unfortunately, she was already set up in a lover's scenario with peeta.
• when the two won their games and went back to 12 as a "couple", she told peeta that she had feelings for someone else while they had to fake date.
• peeta understood, and the situation bloomed into more of a lavender marriage type thing, because they obviously couldn't act out of love.
• eventually, katniss told you about her feelings, which were reciprocated, and a secret relationship happened.
• after mockingjay, since the capitol had been destroyed along with snow, peeta and katniss split as a fake couple, yet obviously stayed very close friends due to trauma bonding.
• you and katniss live happily ever after because she doesn't have to play pretend anymore!!! yay!!!
Pairings: Katniss x reader (platonic), Peeta x reader (platonic), Gale x reader (platonic), Peeta x Katniss (platonic), Peeta x reader (platonic), Peeta x Gale (platonic), Gale x Katniss (platonic), Mrs. Everdeen x Katniss (family), Mrs. Everdeen x reader (platonic), Mrs. Everdeen x Peeta (platonic), Mrs. Everdeen x Gale (platonic)
Type of fic: Fluff, small Angst/Comfort
Summary: Katniss never had proper Christmas so you decided that it’s about damn time to fix that
—————————
You lived with Katniss in a small, cozy house just outside the main square of District 12. After everything—the war, the loss of her sister, and the slow rebuilding of their world—you’d done your best to make life feel steady for her again. You weren’t just her friend; you were her constant, the person who reminded her it was okay to breathe, to smile, to want something good for herself.
This year, you wanted to give her something she’d never truly had: a real Christmas.
When you pitched the idea to Peeta, he immediately agreed. “She deserves something warm, something simple,” he said while sketching plans for decorations on the edge of a recipe card. Together, you decided to avoid anything too extravagant—nothing that might remind her of the Capitol. Just a proper tree, handmade decorations, and small, thoughtful gifts.
While Katniss was out hunting, you and Peeta worked quickly. He baked while you strung up a few lights, setting up a small tree that you’d chopped down earlier that week. Mrs. Everdeen, who’d agreed to join you, her hands trembling slightly as she worked.
“She doesn’t talk about Prim much, does she?” Mrs. Everdeen asked softly, glancing at you.
You nodded, placing a carved wooden ornament onto a branch. “I know. I don’t push her. I just… want her to feel like she’s allowed to be happy, even if it’s just for tonight.”
Mrs. Everdeen gave you a small, understanding smile.
As the sun began to set, you and Peeta placed a few modest gifts under the tree—things Katniss would actually appreciate: a new set of arrows, a hand-knitted scarf, a wooden craving and a few practical tools. Gale had declined your invitation to join, saying it was better for everyone if he stayed away, and though his absence was felt, you knew it was for the best.
When Katniss returned home, she stepped through the door, her bow slung over her shoulder and a pair of squirrels hanging from her belt. She froze the moment she saw the tree, the soft glow of lights illuminating the room.
“What is this?” she asked, her voice cautious.
You stepped forward, wiping your hands on your trousers. “It’s Christmas,” you said gently, giving her a tentative smile. “I know it’s not something you’ve really celebrated before, but… I thought you might like it. We kept it simple.”
She looked around the room, her expression unreadable. Her eyes lingered on the tree, the small gifts, the garlands strung along the walls. Then she looked at you. “You did this?”
“Me, Peeta, and your mom,” you admitted. “We just wanted to do something nice for you.”
Katniss’s lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, you worried you’d made a mistake. Then, slowly, her shoulders relaxed. “It’s… nice,” she said quietly, stepping further into the room. “Thank you.”
Dinner was humble but warm. Peeta had baked bread, and you’d made a simple stew with the squirrels Katniss brought home. Mrs. Everdeen sat with you all, her eyes misty but her smile genuine.
When it came time to exchange gifts, Katniss opened hers carefully, her fingers tracing the scarf you’d knitted. “You made this?”
You nodded, a little sheepish. “It’s not perfect, but—”
“It’s perfect,” she interrupted, pulling it around her neck.
By the time the evening ended, Katniss seemed… lighter. She wasn’t beaming or laughing uncontrollably, but there was a softness in her gaze you hadn’t seen in a long time.
Later that night, as the others retired, Katniss sat beside you on the couch, her body leaning into yours. She didn’t say much, but her hand found yours, squeezing it gently.
“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
You rested your head against hers, your fingers intertwining. “Merry Christmas, Katniss.”
For the first time in what felt like forever, she smiled.
