part 1 and 2 and 3 on ao3. part 1 and 2 and 3 on ff.net.
thanks to all who have supported me on this journey!
*sends kisses and hugs*
also I'm sorry this has taken me weeks. life has been hectic.
***
Peeta
My god. Holy frickin cow. Katniss kissed me. Well, my cheek but still! The burning sensation from her soft kiss is still present. She may have run from me but at least I have a chance with her, the most beautiful goddess there is. I sound like a fuckin’ love sick teenager.
That fateful day that the stars aligned and she interviewed, I knew the universe was sending me a message. I’ve known Katniss since forever. Those putrid yellow swings’ memory still burns a hole in the back of my mind. The little girl with the red checkered dress and two braids moving with the wind, she was absolutely breathtaking, and, well, she still is. I may have been 5, but hey, the heart wants what it wants.
Graduation, class of 2009. It was sunset, the most vivid sunset I think I’ve ever seen. The sky was painted with indigo, orange, and rose colored pink. Katniss Everdeen, the star of my wet dreams, became more than I ever thought a person could. She not only stole my heart but gained a new title, the girl on fire. The subtle reds and vibrant oranges mixed behind her while she gave her eloquent valedictorian speech. My heart only had room for her and I could barely breath she was just that alluringly, gorgeous. I thought of her as my Katniss even though every interaction with her ended with insults. She loathed me and I wasn't sure why. I’m still confused as to what changed.
I watch her long, wavy raven hair flutter behind her as she runs to her car. I bring my fingers up to touch my cheek, savoring the memory of her soft lips.
Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.
***
Katniss
As I drive home, I begin to question my barely there sanity. I-why did I kiss him? Not only is he my boss but I hated him. No, hate not hated. What’s wrong with me? I feel as if everything in my life is changing so fast I can’t see the path in front of me like a car on a foggy morning. My lungs fill with air that can’t seem to release and before I know it, I’m hyperventilating. Blindly, I shove the key in my apartment door, unlock, lock, and sink to my knees with my back against the door.
I can’t explain these rampant feelings that are blindsiding me. Do I actually like Peeta Mellark? He does cause butterflies to erupt in my stomach and warmth to flow throughout my body when he walks in a room. Our past 2 “dates” awakened my soul more than it has been in years. He was flustered and shy after I kissed his cheek. What could that mean. Does he like me? Wait, he hated it didn't he. God, I’m such a dickhead and I don’t even have one.
As the days pass into weeks and weeks into months, I do my best to avoid Peeta at all costs. He seems to be doing the same which is fine with me. I still have erotic thoughts and memories of that fateful night at the movies but as times moves on, it pushes to the back of my mind. He and I aren’t a thing. Right?
It was Christmas time in Panem. Rosy cheeks and runny noses with melodious laughter fill every coffee shop, street, and home in this little town. Snow banks pile up on the edges of roads. I decided to come home for my Christmas vacation, not that there is really a home to come back for. While the neighbors would hang boughs of holly and red ribboned wreaths with colorful lights, my house was bland. It wasn’t always like this. When my father was alive, there never was a dreary day. Of course that all changed when he passed and my mom became a recluse. She moved away shortly after, but I couldn’t bring myself to sell the house. Memories of sweet hot cocoa and Eskimo kisses flood into my mind. A slice of my heart died with my father.
Shaking those troubled thoughts away, I climb the steps of the rickety wood porch and open the front door. Because I never visit, it has fallen apart, literally. Oh, father I’m so sorry. Roughly all the window panes are broken and rat droppings are scattered around. The kitchen faucet is loose and dust clouds.= every surface. I have my work cut out for me.
I spot some firewood outside and lay it in the hearth, lighting a match and setting the wood ablaze. Warmth. Love. Home. I missed this. The smell of wilderness and smoke waft into nose. I curl up and fall into a deep sleep, rat droppings and all.
Tap. Tap. Tap. I awake to a sharp knock at the door. Peeta? What is he doing here all handsome and muscular. My god, his arms. I want to lick the sweat that glistens on his forehead.
“Peeta? What are you doing here?” I ask confused and slightly drowsy from sleep.
“Katniss,” Peeta says breathlessly. “I-I can’t keep doing this. Why did you stop speaking to me?”
Taken back by his words, I hesitate before saying, “I thought you hated the kiss, I mean, me.”
“Hate you, no, never Katniss. I love you, completely and incandescently,” he says while stepping into the house and brushing a strand of hair behind my ear.
He...loves me? Me? How was I so stupid. Without thinking, I gently press my lips against his. He is hesitant at first but adds pressure to my lips, lightly kissing back. He then wraps his arms around my waist, as I bite his lip, sucking it to relieve pain. He tentatively tangles his tongue with mine causing a moan to bubble up in my throat. We break for air, the tension sizzling between us. His baby blue eyes are darker and filled with lust.
I forcefully latch my lips on his and he pushes me against the now closed door. Through our bruising, loving, tender kisses, I feel an underlying urge for more. To initiate this, I jump into his arms with my legs wrapping around his waist. I hear a “Fuck Katniss” and I groan loudly.
‘Do’. Kiss. ‘You’. Kiss. ‘Know’. Kiss. ‘How’. Kiss. ‘Long’. Kiss. ‘I’ve’. Kiss. ‘Wanted this,’ Peeta says shakily. He makes his way to the stairs and I point him in the direction of my bedroom. He grins and gently lowers me to the bed. He gently unbuttons my shirt while I push down his jeans.
“Peeta,” I moan excited for what’s about to happen. I can’t believe-
Bang. I sit up looking around me. My hair sticks to my forehead as my whole body is drenched in sweat. Shit. The handle of the sink in the kitchen fell off. The fire is nothing but embers and ashes at this point with the sun streaming though a crack in the curtains. Disorientedly, I walk to my bag and pull out a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. I am in definite need of a shower.
I decide to go into town once I’ve showered and changed. A quick glance outside of the kitchen window shows evidence of powdery snow dusting every surface. It’s a winter wonderland, literally. I wonder what Peeta would think of this. He always had an eye for beauty. Thoughts of him brings me back to my dream. It was so realistic and I-I wish it could be real. What am I thinking? Even though it's not exactly right, I don’t regret any of these thoughts.
***
As I walk around the narrow brick streets, stopping briefly in each store, my stomach lightly grumbles. In the distance, a bakery can be seen. Warm light spills out the clear windows, illuminating the snow in gold. My fingers itch to open the heavy, wood door and feel the heat tingle my cheeks and toes. The aroma of freshly baked pastries and bread waft into my nose, leading me to the door.
The wooden floor is worn but homely and the countertops have just been cleaned. Surprisingly, the cozy bakery is empty, not a soul can be seen. Eh, their loss. More pastries for me.
I bend down to look at all the mouth watering cookies, mini cakes, and breads. and spot something that I remember from my childhood. When I was younger, my dad would take me to the bakery every Sunday after hunting. He would buy a cheese bun and spilt half of it with me. The curly haired baker’s son would walk from the back with a fresh bun and hand it to me with a shy grin on his face. That all stopped when my father passed and I never saw the baker or his kind son ever again.
A man’s voice shakes me out of that memory.
“Would you like to buy something, miss?”
I stand up slowly and look the man on the eye and say, “Yes, definitely.”
The man is an older gentleman with crinkles around his bright blue eyes when he smiles. His hair is golden with gray mixed in. He is also tall with broad shoulders, he seems like an older version of Peeta almost.
“Can I get 1 cheese bun please?” I ask politely to the man.
“Yes of course, Katniss,”he responds.
“What-wh-how do you know my name?” I reply in a shocked tone.
“Why Katniss, it's me. Peeta’s father.”
“Oh my gosh. Mr. Mellark? It’s been years.”
“Yes indeed it has. I sold this bakery about a decade ago and moved closer to the city to be near Peeta. He helped me open a bakery there, which he owns now, and it is very successful,” he says with pride in his voice. “I moved back to Panem about a year ago and bought this bakery back and it has been my love ever since.”
I nod at this and realize that Peeta works for a huge corporation he started up and owns a bakery. What else can he do?
Mr. Mellark walks to the back, I’m guessing to pick up a fresh cheese bun, and discusses something with someone. I’m slightly craning my ears to hear what is being said when the last person I expected to be here walks out.
Peeta.
Fucking.
Mellark.
“K-Katniss. What are you doing here,” he says, slightly flustered.
My cheeks blush as I remember my erotic dream of last night. Peeta’s hair is unruly as if it has been brushed through by his hands one too many times. He is wearing a tight fitting white shirt with a similarly colored apron around his muscular waist. A bit of flour lines his upper cheek and icing trails down his shirt. He is hot.
“Uh, I decided to come home for Christmas. What about you?”
How ironic is it that the girl who always had something rude to spat out at Peeta, can barely make a comprehensible sentence.
“Same. So, um, here is your cheese bun,” Peeta replies while handing me the gooey and delicious pastry with a crooked grin.
Oh my God.
Peeta is that boy. The boy with the bread. My boy with the bread.
“Th-tha-thank you,” I stutter out.
I quickly turn on my heel and find a table to eat at. The daisies and flickering candles create a sweet ambiance that distracts me from the weather outside. Speaking of which, the snow is heavily falling, to the point where you can’t see your own hand in front of your face. On top of that, it's dark, the sunset having already set, and I realize that getting home will not be easy.
Shit.
The cheese bun, which was delicious, is gone in a flash and I start towards the door. I push with all my might but realize it won’t open because of the packed snow in front of it. Dang it.
“Katniss, do you need help?” Peeta asks, watching my struggle.
“No, I don’t need help,” I grumble. I then turn back around, back facing Peeta, and push some more.
After a couple more attempts and badly held in giggles from Peeta, I give up and resignedly walk back to the table I had preciously occupied. Damn him.
I come to the conclusion that I will not be leaving this bakery until at least morning. Might as well get prepared for a long night.
Peeta comes towards the table and says, “Seeing as the snow won’t let up any time soon, I guess we are stuck here.” No duh.
I shrug my shoulders nonchalantly at this and lay my head on my arms.
“Well, the table can’t be comfortable, Katniss.”
“It’s fine, Peeta. Perfectly okay,” I mumble to him in my sweater.
“I-I have a loft above the bakery with a bed and bathroom if you want to use it. I don’t mind, honestly,” he rubs the back of his neck while blushing causing me to fluster. Why am I so weird around this man?
“Uh-well, if y-you don’t mind,” I respond while standing up and gathering my stuff.
“Follow me.”
Peeta leads me through what seems a maze of a kitchen in the back and farther into the building until we reach a flight of stairs.
“Ladies first,” he tells me.
I blush, again, and walk quickly up the stairs. At the top, is a large oak door which I can only guess was from a large tree that soars into the air. Peeta steps around me and unlocks the door, cracking it open. I cautiously peer at him and he nods his head in a manner of telling me to enter.
Whoa. That is my first reaction to the professional kitchen with metal countertops and floor to ceiling window on the south wall. In one corner is a mini office, complete with a desk and chair with stacks of paper, bills I'm guessing, laid on top. The opposite side of the loft holds a worn, blue couch and small tv. Outdoor lights brighten the place and can be found hanging from almost every high surface. The bathroom is directly across from the front door and the spacious bedroom is next to it. Who new a loft could have this much character with its brick walls and worn orange wood floors.
“My father has a house about a mile from here and we rent this place out when I’m not home. It helps during slow times at the bakery and I don’t get down here much so its rented almost all year round. This is home for me, I guess.” Peeta says timidly.
“I’m speechless. This loft is beautiful,” I say in awe.
I drop my belongings and follow Peeta as he gives me a quick tour.
“Thank you for this, truly,” I address him.
“Of course, Katniss. I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he smiles back at me.
“Could I use a toothbrush and tooth paste by chance?”
“Yes, I will go get them for you,” Peeta says as he walks to a small hall closet. “I also have some sweats and a t-shirt you can borrow if you would be more comfortable.”
“U-uh yes. Thank you,” I say quickly, stumbling on my words. To be honest, I hadn’t even thought about changing but Peeta offered so I couldn't refuse.
He returns with clothes and basic toiletries for me to use tonight and I take them and smile shyly.
“I’ll be back.”
He nods his head and walks over to the kitchen, I presume to bake.
Closing the bathroom door softly, I realize the awkward predicament I am currently stuck in. What does it mean that I’m wearing my boss’ clothes? I wore his shirt before. This isn't that different. What about sleeping arrangements? Surely, he will want to sleep in his bed and I’ll take the couch. Yes, right, that’s perfect.
The shirt’s scent was, well, Peeta. Dill and cinnamon with a hint of detergent wafting to my nose. It was a couple sizes too big and hung off my shoulders. The sweatpants were a different matter altogether. They too, slipped off my body, causing me to tighten the strings. It will have to do. I kinda loved being in his clothes, Peeta’s scent radiating around me and his warmth enveloping me.
Tonight is going to be a long night.
***
Peeta
As soon as I saw Katniss sitting quietly at the wooden table, munching on a cheese bun that I made, I knew I had to talk to her. Through her struggles to open the door and my giggling which wasn't hidden well, I couldn't be more in love with her. I never thought for a second that she would say yes to my proposal of coming upstairs and spending the night. The tinted blush on her cheeks is so adorable causing me to think of things I shouldn't.
I offered her my clothes and didn't even think of how irresistible she might look with them on. Well, shit.
I decided to cook Chicken Alfredo, seeing as she only ate a meager cheese bun and must be starving.
“Thank you again, Peeta,” I turn as I hear her say this, “for the clothes and letting me stay tonight and uh everything else,” she smiles.
God, I love that smile. It’s directed at me too. Can this day get any better?
That’s when I notice my oversized clothes on her slender body. The sight will never fade from my memory. She is sexy and breathtaking. I feel a sense of ownership because she is wearing my clothes. My Katniss. I feel a playful growl wander its way up into my throat and I quickly swallow it down. No need to scare her off, Peeta. Don’t be stupid.
“Y-yeah of course. I don’t mind one bit.”
She hops on the counter next to the stove as if it is an everyday occurrence. “Whatcha cooking? It smells divine,” she asks while her stomach rumbles.
I let out a snort, “Hungry are we?”
“Duh, I may be small but I will never pass up food.”
“Chicken Alfredo. I hope you enjoy it,” I respond. Then, I reach for the wooden spoon and dip it into the soft noodles wrapping them around it. I swerve it towards her mouth, a risky move, I know, and see a look of surprise spread across her elegant face. She opens her mouth slowly and sucks off every noodle playfully causing a twitch in my pants and a hunger in my stomach to form.
Katniss leans her head back and moans in delight from its taste.
“Peeta, this is delicious. Can you cook for me everyday?” she remarks with a glint in her eye.
“You wish,” laughter erupts from deep in my belly. I meant it, though. I would, Katniss, I would cook for you forever if I could. If only she knew.
Later, after dinner has been devoured and dishes are being washed, I hear a slight humming noise. It sounds like a distant memory embedded in my mind. That song, I know it. Katniss is washing dishes and I bump my shoulder against hers.
“That song. I’ve heard it before. What is it?”
“The Valley Song,” she turns the water off and gazes at me softly. Before I can respond she asks a follow up question. “Why did you push me off those yellow swings when we were younger?”
I racked my brain for the situation she was indicating. Oh, that day.
“Long story short, I have-had a slight crush on you and may have been trying to show off with my super strength.” At this, I lift my arms in a front double bicep position, showing off my “strength”. I kiss each bicep and hear a giggle slip out of Katniss. I turn my head and give her an inquisitive look. Neither of us can hold a straight face causing laughter to erupt between us like a volcano.
When she finally can breathe after laughing so terribly much, she responds, “I guess that makes sense, body builder.”
“Yeah right, if only.”
Instead of laughing, she peers at me silently, with an unreadable look on her face.
Later into the night on the couch with almost one season of Ozark under our belts and the popcorn bucket empty, I realize Katniss has dozed off on my shoulder. Her forehead isn't creased like it usually is during the day and that scowl that I have come to love has seamlessly disappeared. A tiny flicker of hope floods my senses. Many nights of Katniss curled up against me, me tucking her in our bed with a peck to her forehead, little feet pattering on the hardwood, maybe even the click of a dog's paws. If only this could come true, I sigh internally.
Resolute to enjoy this moment, I fulfill one of my imaginations. Carefully, wrapping my arms under her knees and her back I walk to the bedroom. She is laid down gently on the bed and I notice her plump red limps. Tiny puffs of hair escape her mouth causing tendrils and wisps of her long locks to float. I couldn’t imagine not loving this woman. She has turned my life upside down, for good.
What would it be like to memorize every facial expression she forms or to hug her large round belly filled with my kin, an Everdeen-Mellark. As I tuck her in, pondering these unrealistic thoughts, she stirs.
“Peeta?” the goddess faintly asks.
“Yes, my lov-Katniss,” I respond, almost slipping up, still overwhelmed by those dreamy thoughts.
She reached for my wrist and wraps her slender hand around it.
“Stay?”she murmurs, drowsily.
There is one, singular answer that can fulfill this question.
“Always,” I tell her.
Wrapping my arms around her in bed and kissing the top of her head lightly I realize something I could never let slip from my memory.
Even if Katniss and I are never what I wish, as long as she is in my life, a part of my heart and soul, I shall not want again. My love, my beauty, my Katniss flower.
***
Katniss
A kiss on the forehead and a warm man next to me. Who knew that would make me feel like I’m home. No, not just any man, Peeta. I couldn’t comprehend loving another man. Oh. My. God. I love him. I don’t know when, I certainly don’t know how, but I just do. A sleepy grin crosses my face as I slip into a soft sleep with the man I love by my side. Home isn't always a place but sometimes a person. People may enter your life unexpectedly and flip it upside down. You may even hate the person but one thing is for sure, forever and always, I’m glad it's him.
***
So that’s it? I can do an epilogue if you want it just let me know. It probably seems rushed but I don’t really care. This has been such a joy to write and I’m so so thankful to each and everyone of you for sticking around to the end. Also, did you enjoy Peeta’s perspective?
Mayor censored LGBTQ+ books in Brazil. Masterpost.
The mayor of Rio de Janeiro, Crivella, posted a video online saying that he had censored copies of the comic book "Avengers - The Children's Crusade," exhibited at the Book Biennial. "The Rio de Janeiro City Council has ordered the organizers of the Book Biennial to collect this book [Avengers - The Children's Crusade], which features sexual content for minors," Crivella says, and adds that it was not right for children “to have early access to subjects that do not agree with their ages”. The alleged pornographic content is a kiss between Wiccan and Hulkling, two male superheroes.
The comic shows two boys kissing, fully dressed. This is the image -
That’s a blatant contradiction with the standards applied to other superhero comics that contain not only many heterosexual couples kissing, but also a considerable amount of depictions of weapons and munitions. As books like “Fifth shades of grey” and comics with naked straight couples are still being sold, and those people so bothered about a gay kiss, never complained about.
Well - Booksellers at the Biennial refused to acquiesce to the order from Crivella - and in fact, copies of The Children's Crusade began selling out of stock at the festival. That pushed Crivella to take a more drastic step: sending law enforcement officials into the Biennial to either forcibly censor or confiscate material deemed "inappropriate" or "pornographic." As a countermeasure to the mayor's aggressive pursuit of censorship, the book Biennial has filed, "a request for a preventive injunction with the Rio de Janeiro Court of Justice (...) to ensure the full functioning of the event and the right of exhibitors to commercialize literary works on the most diverse subjects - as foreseen by the Brazilian legislation."
The response.
A Brazilian youtuber, Felipe Neto, posted a video a few hours after the event - and branded the attempted censorship a “sad day for Brazilian democracy,” adding: “Love is not porn. Love should not be censored. It cannot be prohibited for minors. We need to send a message of unity, to show these people there is no way that they will censor LGBT+ content. So I bought all the stock of all the major LGBT-themed books at the festival, and they will all be delivered for free, tomorrow, to those who are there and want a free book.”
In a mischievous act of compliance with the mayor’s demand that LGBT+ books are sold with content warnings, the books come in black bags with a label that says: “This book is inappropriate for backwards, outdated and bigoted people.” And it was a success. Thousands of people lined up to get a free LGBT+ themed book, people brought signs, LGBT flags, and left with a big smile on their faces.
“All ended well!” you thought? Nope.
The court of Rio de Janeiro overturned on Saturday the injunction that prohibited the city to search and collect books at the event. So now, all books that are LGBTQ+ themed are being apprenheded. Those free books that Felipe Neto was giving out, books in black bags and with warnings, can now be collected.
This is not only censorship, this is a direct attack to our democracy and constituiton, an attack to our rights to free speech, diversity, inclusion - and it’s straight up homophobia and the beginning of a dictatorship.
September 29 marked the day women across the world stood together against Bolsonaro, the fascist candidate in the presidential run in Brazil. He is racist, homophobic, sexist and a threat to brazilian democracy. Knowing the amis would stand up against him gives me peace of mind, so here is Musichetta, Cosette and Eponine showing their support to brazilian women #Elenão
Okay, so today was one of the most scary days of my life. Over 48% of Brazilians voted for a fascist, dictatorship, anti-feminist, homofobic, racist man for president. If you think Trump is bad, make it times 10. He thinks rape it’s gonna be fixed with chemical castration (if the RAPER chooses so, in exchange for a smaller penalty). He thinks women should get paid less, because we can get pregnant. He rather have a son die in a car accident than them being gay. HE IS PRO TORTURE. This man has no economical knowledge, Brazil is going to break. This man is going to be our president. I’m scared for my life and for those around me. I’m fucking scared.
