#reply:peeta

[phantom-overdose]

@southern-belle-outcasts

"Sorry," Peeta apologized, head down like a scolded puppy. He paused a moment, then looked up at Katniss through his long, blonde, eyelashes, pouting. Trying to look cute and pathetic enough that she'd forgive him without a second thought. It didn't usually work, but it was amusing to try. "No more paint fights in the house. Right kids?" The children, both giving their mother the same look he was (pout and all), nodded their agreement. Though Peeta had a feeling their pouts and big doe eyes were working much better than his own was. He'd be scrubbing paint up off the floor the rest of the day, no doubt. But it was entirely worth it. He just wished Katniss hadn't come home before he'd had a chance to clean up and pretend nothing happened.

[phantom-overdose]

"Being kind to everyone else doesn't count if you're cruel to yourself." Katniss & Peeta

@southern-belle-outcasts

Peeta gave her a half-smile, an expression that didn't crinkle the corners of his eyes like his sincerity usually did. It wasn't bitter, either, though. There was an attempt being made at making this real. But the attempt was faltered, at best.

"I am kind to myself," He assured her, as if she didn't know the truth. As if she had brought it up randomly and not because Peeta had a way of dulling himself, thinking himself less-than. "When it's earned." An amendment that said everything. When it's earned. And when, exactly, was that? He wasn't even entirely sure of it, himself. But there was a hint of truth to what he'd said- he wasn't always cruel to himself. It just seemed, especially lately, that he had earned the self-hatred he carried inside of himself all the more. He'd made mistakes he couldn't forgive himself for. Yes, most of the worst of it had been under the influence of the hijacking, but that didn't make the guilt any easier to carry. He could still remember the things he'd said to Katniss, blaming her for losing their child like she'd done it on purpose to spite him (and, at the time, he'd really believed that. He'd really believed she'd done it to hurt him. That's what had been planted in his head). He'd even put his hands on her, choked her, been entirely prepared to kill her...

But he'd caused more hurt than just those bigger things. He'd not protected Prim as well as he'd meant to. The poor girl had come out of all of this on death's door and thoroughly traumatized. And he'd been the reason that their faked romance had had to happen in their first game, leading into his second: if he'd never admitted to his crush on her on live television, they wouldn't have announced the possibility of two winners. He would have died in the arena and she would have gone home the sole victor. They wouldn't have been forced to "perform" for Snow. She wouldn't have ended up pregnant with a child she'd later lose to the infinite stress placed on her slender shoulders. He'd caused her so much pain since this all began, and he knew he didn't deserve to give himself kindness. Not while he was still trying to repent for the awful things he'd caused, done.

"There are people a lot more deserving of my kindness than I am," He said, coming to a standstill and leaning down to pick a bright yellow wildflower that had just barely been peeking out from the tall grass around his ankles. He twirled it between his fingers for a moment, admiring it from each angle. He'd probably paint it someday later when the world was quiet and he had it in his heart to smear paint on canvas again for the first time since the war had ended. For now, he held it out to Katniss. An offering. He doubted she forgave him yet, not fully. But he was trying to mend things back into friendship, at least. Apologies could never be enough, but this flower might be a small step in the right direction. "I've still got a lot of things to make up for before I've earned it back."

[phantom-overdose]

"Kiss me until I forget." Katniss & Peeta

@southern-belle-outcasts

Peeta watched her, felt the slight pull of her fingers gripping the front of his jacket. It had been months since the war had ended and Peeta, finally, was feeling himself again. But that didn't mean that the echoes of what they had been through had subsided yet. He knew that things still felt fresh in his mind- the Games. The hi-jacking. Learning he'd lost his entire family (another loss he had yet to properly grieve). But he had been (marginally) better than Katniss at holding it all down. It helped that he had pain medication for his leg when it was sore, and he sometimes took it not to soothe the ache but to help him sleep. He hadn't yet turned to alcohol like Haymitch and he didn't want to- but the thought had certainly popped in his head a time or two... or twenty. Katniss, on the other hand, had nothing to turn to. At least, not as far as he knew. And her mother... her mother had checked out again with the loss of Prim. Peeta wasn't sure how long she'd be gone from Katniss this time- a year? Two? Another 10 or 15? Whatever the case, she would be of no help. Not when Katniss needed her most. For a while, Peeta had been no help, either. Katniss had kept her distance from him, not that he could blame her for it. He'd planted the primroses at her place, left her cheese buns or other baked goods from time to time as an apology. But, otherwise, he had let her come to him. And, eventually, recently, she had.

Peeta breathed her in. Should he give into her request? Or deny her? They'd kissed only once more since the end of the war, less than a week ago. He'd seen the tears staining her cheeks, even as she tried to hide them, and Peeta had touched his lips to her forehead at first. And when she looked up, brushed her lips to his, he had indulged in pressing closer, kissing her nice and slow. Katniss hadn't mentioned it since, and Peeta wasn't sure what that meant. Had it been a mistake? Had she regretted it? His own love for her was still vast. Now that the fake memories had been mostly discarded, he could remember her, the real her, more clearly. And he could remember why he had loved her so entirely. But she still had things to work through, and love, he guessed, was likely far from her mind right now. He was happy to wait, and he's understand if she never came to love him how he loved her. Sometimes, things weren't meant to be. But this moment, and the one before, had him feeling confused. Was it possible this was the only way she knew how to self medicate?

"Katniss..." He gently cupped her face in his hands. "I don't want to take advantage of you," His voice was soft but stern. "If this is... if this is all just to help you forget..." Oh, but was it selfish of him to turn her down even if that's all this was? He had his pain medication. Haymitch had, for a long time, had his booze. What did she have? Shouldn't he be willing to be the thing that calmed her mind, even if that's all he was? He leaned in closer, rested his forehead to hers. "I still love you," He said quietly. Was it an admittance? Or a warning? "I'll do anything for you," Anything at all. "But I don't want to take advantage of your pain. If this is only to help you forget and nothing else, I need you to tell me now so that I don't-" So that he wouldn't take things too far. So that he could be extra careful to let her place the limits. And also, in large part, so that he could know better than to let his heart get too involved.

[phantom-overdose]

“You're half frozen! Just had to do a snowball fight before dinner, didn't you?” Katniss & Peeta

@southern-belle-outcasts

His nose and cheeks were rosy from the cold, snow caked on his winter coat, his mittens, clinging to every part of him. The same could be said for the kids, too.

"You should have come with us," He grinned. They'd only been in the yard, not all that far away from where they were right now, but that had been enough for the kids- even now giggling as they raced inside past him and began to peel off their outdoor attire.

Haymitch, who had stayed inside with Katniss, shook his head, a small chuckle falling from his lips as he watched the kids help each other out of their tight laced boots and well wrapped scarves. Little warm bundles of childish joy. "Don't think my joints would have liked the cold," He admitted. He was older now, had cut the drinking, but most of the damage had already been done by the years he'd spent with bottle in hand. He had aches that wouldn't go away and joints that liked to lock from time to time. But even with his slowly dying liver and his stiffness, he was still kicking. Still keeping going as long as he could. He had something to live for now, after all. "Tomorrow might be a little warmer, though. Then I'll show you a real snowball fight."

This set the kids off in excitement, the thought of not only another snowball fight but one with Haymitch?! He'd take something for the aches and pains and he'd weather the cold for a little bit of playtime with the kids. He could manage that, even if it meant he'd have a little bit of soreness later.

Peeta, now out of his coat and boots and winter dressings (as were the kids), made his way over to Katniss and gently cupped her face... knowing all the while that his hands were still chilly. He had to toy with her a little bit, right? And if he could unfreeze his hands a bit faster with her body heat, all the better!

"Ahh... that's better," He sighed happily, then laughed, a warm, hearty, sound. He didn't leave his hands there long, though- he didn't actually want to make her cold. Just goof around a little.

But the fire was going and there was food cooking, and the bread dough had finished rising enough in its pan that he could actually bake it now. A sweet, almost cakey, bread loaded with fruits and nuts for dessert. He'd drizzle over it with a simple, sugary, icing once it was out of the oven. Tomorrow, after dinner, he'd surprise the kids with a nice chocolate cake, instead. Something decadent and nearly tooth aching. Getting hold of the cocoa powder hadn't been easy, nor especially cheap, but he'd brought some home from the Capitol a few weeks back after his most recent check on his prosthetic leg. He'd brought home that alongside a few other goodies for not just the children, but for his wife and Haymitch, as well.

"Let me get this in to bake and we'll settle down for dinner," He kissed Katniss's cheek- once, then twice- before calling for the kids to go wash their hands then sit down at the dinner table. Haymitch followed after them to do the same, but also just to keep an eye on the little mischief makers. Peeta would follow suit soon, too, but for now he had a moment alone with Katniss and he was going to enjoy it. Parenthood didn't leave them many opportunities of actual alone time, after all.

He wrapped her up in his arms and pulled her in close, holding her tight. Then he touched a little kiss to the top of her head. "How are you feeling?" He knew this time of year could be rough on her, even all these years later. It was for him, too. All the people left behind. The people who should have been here with them... They still had each other, though. And the kids. And Haymitch. And they'd likely be seeing a letter from Finnick and Annie in the coming days. They weren't alone. Not in their joy, nor in their grief. They had plenty of people still here who loved and cared about them. It wasn't always enough to stop the pain of loss, but it was enough to keep carrying on.

[phantom-overdose]

@southern-belle-outcasts (liked this post for a short starter from Peeta <3)

"Hey. Don't look at me like that. I told you I'd be back, didn't I?"

[phantom-overdose]

“Stop being perfect. I’m drunk and vulnerable and it’s unfair.” Katniss & Peeta //post rebellion

@southern-belle-outcasts

Peeta laughed, the sound hearty but with an edge of softness. Katniss was definitely drunk and Peeta wasn't too far behind her. Another couple drinks and he'd be well out of the tipsy zone.

"I'm not even doing anything," He insisted, that laughter still evident in his tone, a bit of childishness to him. "If anyone's perfect, it's you," And although he carried that same tone of voice, he meant it, really. Nobody was perfect, of course, but she came damn close. At least as far as Peeta was concerned. "But..." He reached over and took her half empty glass, then shotgunned what was left in it before putting it back on the table on the other side of himself, out of her reach. "I think you've also had a little too much to drink." Honestly, maybe they should quit while they were ahead, before either of them got to Haymitch levels of inebriation.

[phantom-overdose]

"So... about last night." Katniss & Peeta //after Snow forced them. Yes, I’m mean. Oops?

@southern-belle-outcasts

Guilt. It came as a ringing in his ears, a cold rush of blood through his body. This wasn't how he had wanted this to go, not at all. But how could he have said "no"?

Even now, in the wee hours of the morning after, Peeta felt wide awake in a frightful way. Nightmares from the arena still plagued him, of course, but it wasn't that keeping him awake this time. It was remorse. And love. The fact that he had had Katniss in a way he had, until last night, only dreamed of. But it was a tainted act. Something done not out of spontaneity, not out of adoration or even of choice. It was part of a performance, just like the rest of their relationship had been. And it had been for the viewing pleasure of a sick, twisted, old man who wanted to be sure they were as in love as they claimed to be.

The thought that he had likely watched every moment of it made Peeta want to throw up. Worse was the question of if Snow had been the only one viewing their most intimate moment. After all, weren't they now just some spectacle for the capital? They'd never be free of it. Never.

The kitchen was quiet and Peeta's hands, his apron, were covered in a thick layer of flour. He had already prepped two loaves of bread (on their second proof, a half hour or so still from being tossed into the oven) and was currently working on finishing up a carefully crafted dozen cheese buns. He made his way to the sink to rinse the flour from his palms, pretending that he didn't hear Katniss walk in (and pretending, also, that his heart didn't sink at the sound of her footsteps).

Did she hate him now? She almost definitely felt as used as he did. As embarrassed. As humiliated and degraded and disgusted. But she didn't love him the way he loved her and he wondered if that made this whole situation harder to stomach or easier.

She stayed quiet for a few moments longer and Peeta didn't dare to say anything, either. Instead, he focused on whisking his egg yolks, brushing them atop each of the buns. More cheese followed to top it off before he popped them into the oven, and in maybe 15 minutes or so they'd be nice and hot and ready to be eaten. Though Peeta wasn't sure that he had much of an appetite.

When he finally looked at Katniss, really looked at her, he wasn't sure what expression to make. He wanted to smile at her and tell her everything would be okay, but she had been violated last night. And, yes, Peeta knew that it hadn't been his choice, but he still felt like it had been his fault. He should have done something, said something, not let this happen. He should have killed himself with that nightlock and spared her all of this. She would have had a much easier time playing the role of a mourning lover than trying to feign real, genuine, love when she didn't feel it. And she wouldn't have had to sleep with him to try to prove something to President Snow. He thought about it a lot. How much better off she would have been if he had died in the arena. He didn't think there was a single person who would have had real trouble moving on if he hadn't come home.

He parted his lips with the intention of saying something, but nothing came. He felt frozen in time.

But Katniss made up for it by speaking first. Her voice hadn't failed her the way Peeta's had.

She dove straight into the topic and Peeta felt his stomach lurch. He'd wanted her so badly. He had dreamt about kissing her, about his fingers tracing along her skin. But he hadn't wanted her to want it, too. He hadn't wanted… this.

"Last night…" He wanted to say something. Apologize? Call it a mistake? Beg for her forgiveness? He couldn't find the words, least of all when he wasn't entirely sure how she was feeling. Hell, he could hardly decipher what he had felt about it all.

Peeta wanted to pull her into a hug. He wanted to hold her, shield her, tell her everything would be okay. But he couldn't. He wasn't even sure that she would let him touch her…

He swallowed, felt that sting of remorse, of guilt, in his gut. There was nothing he could say to make this okay. Nothing he could do to make it better.

All he could do was hope that she didn't hate him. That someday she could forgive him. It hadn't been his fault- somewhere in his head he knew that. But it felt like he had been the cause of all of her misery. Not just this, but all of it.

"Katniss… I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…"

[phantom-overdose]

"Don’t smile at me like that. It’s not fair." Katniss & Peeta

@southern-belle-outcasts

"Don't smile at you like what?" He asked, keeping that same smile on his face even as he questioned her. He definitely knew what she was talking about, there was no doubt about it. But he was playing dumb for a moment just to tease her some. "What's actually not fair is that you don't want me to smile at you. Do you know how hard it is not to smile when I'm looking at you?" With that, though, he switched from that soft, sweet, smile to an intentionally exaggerated pout, clearly messing around. "Is this better?"