I can’t remember the last time I wrote anything, let alone posted it, and I’m sorry for that. So I tried something different. Hope you enjoy.

(I don’t own the Hunger Games, I’m just having fun)

Imagine that Modern AU, where Katniss and Peeta are still in school and they are friends. But Katniss starts to long for a little more than a platonic friendship with him and, to get that stuff out of her chest, she decides to write him a poem. It’s easy to say that that doesn’t go very well, it turns out to be way harder than what she thought it would be. Just trying to make words rhyme is impossible, and lets not even start with writing down her feelings, it just, ughh. No, thank you. The paper ends scrunched up on the floor of her bedroom.

Enter Prim. Sneaky little Prim, snooping around her older sister’s bedroom, looking for that white stuffed goat of her sister so that it can have tea with her stuffed cat, Buttercup. But Prim ends up finding something else. Something much, much better than the old goat. A ball of paper lying inconspicuously on the floor near the end of the bed. A paper that, after straightening and taking her time reading it, happens to contain the best secret in the world ever. Ever. In the entire history of secrets.

But Prim can’t deliver it like that, oh no, so creased and stained, and look! It’s not even signed! She has to pretty it up. It is a declaration of love, after all.

Hi Anon! I want to say yes so much, because To the Surface is one of my favourites from the stuff I’ve written, but I’ve been trying to expand it since the beginnings of time and it never gets a happy ending. And you and I both know that if it isn’t Everlark it just won’t do… (tbh I just don’t want to write angst).

Small Everlak drabble, because I’ll never get tired of unhijacked!Peeta.

This was written in the spur of the moment; my fingers were just itching for the keyboard. Two weeks is way too long without writing and I just had to post this now, so it’s unbeta’d and probably not my best, but who cares?

Enjoy.

Peeta’s awake already, sitting on the side of the bed, looking bewildered as a trio of doctors reassure him, flash lights in his eyes, check his pulse.

I’m disappointed that mine was not the first face he saw when he woke, but he sees it now.

But he sees her now. And moves the doctors aside, his eyes looking straight at her, his expression something she can’t quite place. He leaps to his feet, unsteady, but doesn’t let it stop him and reaches for her. She runs to his embrace, to him. And he engulfs her in his arms, so tightly that it hurts, but in a good way, because it means that he’s here. Peeta’s here. He’s shaking and she wants to hug him tightly in return, but she’s afraid of hurting him even more. But it doesn’t really matter because he’s here.

“—niss,” he gasps against the curve of her neck, something like her name, a breath of air against her skin. And nothing has ever felt quite this good. It’s relief. It’s everything.

“Peeta” she weeps in return, tears running down her cheeks, not knowing when they started and unable to stop them. Her voice comes out broken, just like she is, but so complete at the same time, because Peeta is back, he’s in her arms. Finally. “Peeta,” she repeats, just for the sake of it, just because she can.

He pulls back a little, enough to see her eyes. His hands are on her arms, her hair, her cheeks, his fingers shaking as he maps her out, rediscovering… Making sure she’s real.

And then, he closes the gap between them, his mouth, tentatively at first, touches hers, so, so softly, like a whisper. And when he sees she doesn’t disappear, she won’t run away, he kisses her a second time. Firmly. And doesn’t let go.

His lips find hers over and over again, between sighs and small confessions, words that both wished had said long ago, but never did. Hands grasping wherever they can reach, holding each other close. Peeta keeps repeating her name, unable to believe that this is real and not a dream. She keeps repeating his name, followed by apologies, I’m sorry’s and ‘it should have been me’s.

He kisses her silent. He kisses every inch of her skin he can find; starts with her lips and moves to her cheeks, nose, eyelids, forehead, temple, jaw, everywhere, anywhere. Always saying her name in between a kiss and the other, like a secret, like a prayer. Begging for it to be real.

 .

I just posted Chapter 3 of For the Wrong Reasons.

So, I’m posting the new chapter tomorrow night (which I guess is evening for most of you), but I wanted to leave this little teaser here :)

That Friday, she goes to the bakery early, knowing that Peeta has the afternoon shift. The baker seems surprised to see her, but doesn’t comment on it apart from saying that it was good seeing her and then carries on with the trade, as if he was the one she had been doing them with for the past three years. On Sunday, she sends Gale to the bakery by himself, claiming she had promised she would help Prim with her homework. And on Monday, she goes during the morning again, happily aware of it being Peeta’s day off.

Her new routine works perfectly.

In fact, her routine isn’t what fails her. Quite the opposite actually, because when she steps out of it, almost three weeks later after her pitiful proposal, and goes to Madge’s toasting, Peeta is there, too. How fitting. Because of course the next time she’d see Peeta Mellark after demanding he marry her would be at a toasting.

She shouldn’t be surprised; what with the size of the party it was more than likely that he would be here. All merchants, or so it seems, were invited after all. She finds him through the crowd, standing on the other end of the garden, wearing a light blue collared shirt, his hair combed back. He’s next to a table, setting down a white tall box, which surely contains a fancy cake from the bakery.

Her fast paced heart and sweaty palms urge her to slip away unnoticed while she can. But the toasting hasn’t taken place yet, and there is no trace of Madge’s whereabouts.

So I couldn’t resist myself and have officialy posted a WIP. Hope this goes well...

Summary: They weren't part of the rebellion. In fact, it was years ago. That first summer Katniss had to wonder why her father had died fighting to end Snow’s reign, if now she had to assist mandatory viewing and watch as Capitol children were reaped for another version of the Hunger Games. This was their new life. At first of ghosts and memories. Of reconstruction, cold winters, and thin bare clothes. They got a cat, maybe in replacement of a mother. A Panem AU where the Capitol is gone, but nothing is really different.

Summary:  They were rescued years ago after having escaped the bombing of Twelve with few survivors. A hovercraft had found them near the lake and taken them to Thirteen. The war rages on. The Capitol and Thirteen continue fighting over power in what is left of Panem, with few moments of peace in between.

#Peeta is from 13.

A/N: I’m undecided if I should turn this into something longer, so please tell me what you think. I’d still have to figure out some plot holes, but I’d like to read your comments about it. Enjoy!

I don’t own the Hunger Games, English is not my first language, unbeta’d, all mistakes are mine.

They go up. Outside. The clouds are moving across the sky, constantly playing a game of hide-and-seek with the sun.

She watches him stand there. His eyes closed. When was the last time you felt the wind blow?, she wonders, a soft breeze tussling his curls. She pulls her sweater tighter around her. He’s wearing a short sleeved t-shirt, but doesn’t seem to mind the chill from when the sun is hiding.

Her fingers twitch and she wants to reach for his hand.

Instead, she turns around and starts walking to the forest, silently beckoning him to follow her.

After a few uncertain seconds, she hears his heavy footfalls behind her.

This is a self-prompt I wrote a while ago, but never got into continuing it. It’s really short, but hope you like it.

Unbeta’d, English is not my first language, all mistakes are mine.

It starts when she finishes the song. A flash. The first one.

He’s had them ever since, unable to stop them, and not knowing when they’re going to happen. These strange peeks cascading before his eyes. Moments that have never occurred, but for a second, exist. Most of the time they’re gone too fast in a blur of colors and shapes. But other times he’s able to catch them. A glimpse. A moment caught in time, a little less than reality, something more akin to a memory, a might have been. An if.