Author's Note: Hey! This is my first Hunger Games fanfic. It's a complete 100% Everlark fluffsicle, and it's greatly inspired by Taylor Swift's Today Was A Fairytale. It's an awesome song! Go listen to it right now if you don't know what it is! There are a lot of references in this story from that song, obviously. Hope you enjoy and tell me what you think! Too long? Too short? Are the characters OOC? Reeeeeeeeeeeview!
Here are the lyrics to Today Was A Fairytale by Taylor Swift:
Today was a fairytale
You were the prince
I used to be a damsel in distress
You took me by the hand
And you picked me up at six
Today was a fairytale
Today was a fairytale
Today was a fairytale
I wore a dress
You wore a dark gray t-shirt
You told me I was pretty
When I looked like a mess
Today was a fairytale
3Chorus:3
Time slows down
Whenever you're around
Can you feel this magic in the air?
It must've been the way you kissed me
I fell in love when I saw you standing there
It must have been the way
Today was a fairytale
It must have been the way
Today was a fairytale
3 3
Today was a fairytale
You've got a smile
That takes me to another planet
Every move you make
Everything you say is right
Today was a fairytale
Today was a fairytale
All that I can say
Is now it's getting so much clearer
Nothing made sense
Til the time I saw your face
Today was a fairytale
3Chorus3
Time slows down
Whenever you're around
I can feel my heart
It's beating in my chest
Did you feel it?
I can't put this down
Can you feel this magic in the air?
It must've been the way you kissed me
Fell in love when I saw you standing there
It must have been the way
But can you feel this magic in the air?
It must've been the way you kissed me
Fell in love when I saw you standing there
It must have been the way
Today was a fairytale
It must have been the way
Today was a fairytale
Today was a fairytale
Boring disclaimer that no one reads but I have to put it on here anyway because there could be a crazy psycho person out there who might sue me if I don't: I AM NOT SUZANNE COLLINS OR TAYLOR SWIFT! I DO NOT OWN THE HUNGER GAMES OR TODAY WAS A FAIRYTALE!
Okay, enough crap. Now presenting… my story! *applause*
-MJ888
When I was much younger, my father used to tell me stories. Old stories. Stories full of things like magic, talking animals, and princesses. Fairytales, I believe he called them. I used to think fairytales weren't real. Now I'm not so sure.
"Can I look now?" I plead.
Peeta laughs. "No."
"But-"
"Trust me, Katniss. It'll be worth it. I promise," he assures me.
I sigh and roll my eyes. Peeta and I are walking. To where? I have no idea. I'm blindfolded and Peeta is leading to me to our secret destination. He woke me up early this morning, super excited about some "special surprise" he had planned for the two of us. We had a quick and simple breakfast and Peeta requested for me to wear a dress. He won't tell me what his surprise is, no matter how much I beg him.
It's been seven years since we won the Rebellion, and Peeta and I have been married for two years. I still have constant nightmares at night of those I've lost, and Peeta has his "shiny memories" from time to time, but, I have to admit, life has gotten much better. District 12 is completely rebuilt and Peeta is doing a great job running the bakery. He's hired a couple of teens who were looking for jobs to help him out. I assume one of them is in charge today.
"Okay, you can look now," Peeta whispers in my ear.
"Finally," I say, slowly untying my blindfold.
We're at the Meadow. It looks especially beautiful and peaceful this time of the year, when all the flowers are just in bloom and butterflies dance around the bushes. The fence surrounding the woods was replaced with a cheerful white picket fence with a gate. It still keeps the animals out, but people may come and go as they please. I look over at Peeta and see that he is setting up a picnic basket that he probably picked up from the house after he blindfolded me. Seeing Peeta standing there, looking striking in his dark grey t-shirt, with the sun shining on him just right it seems he's glowing, I fall in love with him even more.
"Do you like it?" he asks.
"I love it," I reply.
Peeta grins. "Good." He takes me by the hand and gently pulls me down so I'm sitting with him on the red and white checkered blanket. He opens up the picnic basket and pulls out two sandwiches, handing one to me and keeping one for himself. Slices of the turkey I shot yesterday are wedged between Peeta's warm bread. Mmm, delicious. My eyes light up when Peeta pulls out something else out of the basket. "Your favorite," Peeta says. Cheese buns.
"Thank you!" I say with gratitude.
"No problem," he says.
I devour the cheese buns in a matter of seconds like a vacuum. Peeta laughs at my eagerness. We enjoy the sandwiches together. I feel truly happy at this moment. Like nothing in the world could go wrong, despite the past. The past is over, and this is the present. When lunch is over, Peeta pulls out a single cupcake from the basket. The cupcake is done beautifully, obviously frosted by Peeta's hands. The frosting is green and it's toppled with what looks like a whole garden of flowers. Yellow flowers, pink flowers, orange flowers, blue flowers, purple flowers. It looks like the Meadow we are sitting in right now. It is a wonderful creation, it really is. It's probably one of Peeta's finest creations.
"Peeta," I breathe. "It's… beautiful."
"Glad you like it," he says, giving me a kiss on the cheek. "Here, let's split it in half."
I agree, so he takes out a knife and divides it in half. It's so pretty that, at first, I don't want to eat my half. But when I finally do, I don't regret it. It tastes even better than it looks! The frosting is smooth and delicate, and the flowers taste like they were dipped in Heaven.
"Wow, Peeta," I marvel. "I'm so lucky that I have a baker as a husband."
"And I'm so lucky that I have you as a wife," Peeta responds.
"Why? I can't bake at all," I say, recalling the time I attempted to bake a cake for Peeta's birthday. Long story short, it ended up with the oven catching on fire…
"No, but you're gentle, affectionate, and beautiful in every way, inside and out." Peeta flatters.
I blush at that. Peeta always finds a way to make me feel good, telling me I'm pretty when I look like a mess. Sometimes just one small compliment from him can turn my whole day around, turning a bad mood into a good mood. "You look pretty today," he said to me one day, a day after a terrible, terrible nightmare, a day when I was just so gloomy I would rather just lie in my bed all day instead of getting up. "As always." After that, I felt way better, and actually went out into town.
"Hey, what do you want to do now?" Peeta asks, bringing me out of my thoughts.
I shrug. "How long are we staying here?"
"The whole day," he says.
Suddenly I get an idea. "Come on," I say, standing up. "You can leave the blanket and picnic stuff here."
"Okay," he consents. "Where are we going?"
I smirk mischievously. "You wouldn't tell me, so I'm not telling you."
Peeta chuckles. "Fair enough. Are you going to blindfold me?"
"No, it will make it a lot more difficult to get there."
"Alright."
I lead Peeta to the gate of the picket fence. The woods. I still go to the woods a lot to hunt. My bow and sheath of arrows are still hidden in a tree. Even though it's no longer essential for me and my family's survival, I still hunt because I like to. And, plus, you get bored when you're home by yourself all day, with your husband at work and the only neighbor you have is an old drunk. So, yes, I go to the woods often and I still know it like the back of my hand. I grab my bow and arrows and sling them around my shoulder. I'm not hunting, but it's a good idea to have a weapon with you when you're in the woods in case you come across a pack of wild dogs.
I am a bit older, but I'm still very athletic and silent as I was seven years ago. And Peeta is still as loud as he was seven years ago. Snap, snap, snap. It's a good thing we aren't hunting.
An hour later, I can tell Peeta is tired of walking. He's trailing quite a long way behind me, huffing and puffing and out of breath.
"We're almost there," I say. "I promise."
"I was saying that to you a few hours ago," Peeta says.
I step into a clearing and smile. "We're here."
Peeta stumbles in behind me. "It's exquisite," he says, about the lake.
"It was me and my father's special place. We would spend whole days here. He taught me how to swim here." I glance at Peeta. "I've never shown anyone this place. Not even Gale."
"Really?" Peeta asks.
"Yep. You're the first person I've shared it with. It was too private. But I figured it would be nice to share it with you."
"Well, I feel honored."
We take a moment to take the breathtaking place in, and then Peeta says, "Teach me to swim?"
"In our clothes?"
"Sure."
"Will your leg be okay?"
"Yeah, it's waterproof."
"Okay."
We take off our shoes and socks and Peeta takes off his shirt. I jump in the lake right away, but Peeta vacillates.
"Come on!" I shout, waving him over. I dunk my head in a few times and swim around, getting used to the cold water.
"Is it cold?"
"A little. But you'll get used to it," I answer. Peeta still looks uncertain. "Peeta, you were the one who wanted me to teach you how to swim!"
"I know…"
Peeta takes one deep breath and runs in. As soon as he gets in, he jumps about sky high.
"Katniss, it's really cold! Not just a little!" he complains.
I laugh and slap him playfully in the shoulder. "Aw, come on. Man up, Peeta."
He's shivering hard, but he laughs anyway. "Okay, teacher. Teach."
Well, it's not as easy as he makes it sound. First I try to get Peeta to float on his back and stomach, but that just ends up with him getting a mouthful of lake water. He comes up choking and sputtering, every time.
"Just relax," I instruct him. "Put your arms up. No, not like that. No, Peeta- yes, there you go. Now just relax. Don't be so tense. Loosen up. Now, I'm going to let go of you. When I do, don't flail around. Just stay still and be calm. Okay?"
It takes at least twenty minutes for him to learn how to float on his back. When he does for the first time, I praise him like he's a dog who just learned a new trick.
"Am I done?" he asks.
"Nope. You haven't even started. That was just learning how to float."
"Oh."
I spend hours trying to teach Peeta to swim. Literally. Hours. Every time he fails by coming up choking, I get more and more exasperated, until I just can't take it anymore.
"I give up!" I groan, throwing my hands up in the air. "You are officially un-teachable!"
"Says the girl who is un-teachable at baking," Peeta jokes, grinning.
I laugh. "Touché." I glance up at the sky. The sun tells me it's approximately four o' clock, so I say, "We might want to start heading back. We don't want to be in the woods after sunset."
"Okay."
We get out of the lake and put our shoes back on. There is a slight breeze in the air, and since both my dress and Peeta's pants are soaking wet, it chills us both to the bone. I intertwine Peeta's fingers into mine as we begin to head back.
"Thanks for taking me there," Peeta says, after we've been walking for about ten minutes.
"It's no problem. You deserve to see it," I say.
"Does it hurt?" he asks. "Being there?"
I know what he means. Whenever I'm at the lake I can just feel my father's presence. Like he's a ghost or a spirit, hanging around us and watching us. I think if he is watching us, he would be happy. Happy that I've moved on through all the bad things, the bad things that started with his death.
"Sometimes," I admit. "But mostly it makes me feel… I don't know. Peaceful, I guess. Yes, it reminds me of my father. But in a good way. It's… bittersweet."
Peeta nods perceptively. He understands. He remembers his father everyday when he's in the bakery. The new rebuilt bakery isn't the exact same one he used to work in with his family, obviously, since the bombing ruined that one, but the rebuilt one surely has traces of his father.
The rest of the walk home is silent. Peeta and I are both lost in our own thoughts, I guess. When we reach the fence, the sun is almost setting and Peeta steps in front of me and drags me quickly back to our picnic place. He wants to watch the sunset. I'm sure he's been waiting for this moment all day. When we're settled back on the picnic blanket, my head on his chest, him playing with my hair, I can't help but think of that day on the roof before the Quarter Quell, watching what we thought was our last sunset.
"I wish I could freeze in this moment, right here, right now, and live in it forever," I whisper, remembering that's what he had said.
"Excuse me? Are you quoting me?" Peeta asks teasingly.
"You remember?" I ask. Sometimes it's still hard for Peeta to recall certain memories.
"Of course," Peeta says. "That was one of the best days of my life. Well, if you set aside the fact that we thought we would die the next day."
I smile and yawn. "Yeah."
"Hey! Don't fall asleep yet. We still have to watch the sunset," Peeta scolds.
The sun slowly creeps down, hiding behind the hills. The sky is a masterpiece of oranges and pinks and purples. It looks just like one of Peeta's painting; the one that hangs in the living room in a golden frame.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Peeta murmurs.
"It is," I agree.
I must doze off for a while, because all of a sudden the sky is a deep blue canvas dotted with twinkling stars of promising hope in the sea of black. I sit up and look at Peeta to see if he's asleep. He's not. He's staring up at the sky, looking contemplative.
"You're awake," he says, glimpsing at me.
"Yep," I say, settling back on his chest. "Penny for your thoughts?"
"I was thinking up a reason I love you for every star in the sky," he answers. "I had to stop though. Because I ran out of stars."
I roll my eyes. "Oh, please."
"It's true. One; you're considerate. Two; you're fun to be around. Three; you're beautiful. Four; you're a great kisser."
At this, Peeta lifts my chin up with his finger so I'm looking into his beautiful blue eyes. Before I know what's happening, his lips are slammed into mine for a passionate kiss. Mmm. His lips taste like the frosting on that cupcake we had earlier. I wonder if mine taste the same.
I get that feeling. The feeling that I got once in the cave and another time on the beach. The warm and curious feeling that spreads throughout my whole body and doesn't satisfy my needs; in fact it does the complete opposite. Ever since Peeta and I got married, the feeling became a bit more common, but I still get excited whenever I feel it.
This kiss feels almost magical. I can certainly feel the magic in the air, dancing around me and Peeta like a ballerina. Does Peeta feel the magic too? I hope he does. It would be a shame to miss it.
The feeling increases throughout my body, taking over my legs and arms and soon enough my whole entire body. It feels good. I never want this to end. I undoubtedly don't want to be the one to break it.
But, very unfortunately, I actually am. I try to hold it in, but I can't. A big yawn escapes my mouth without my permission. Peeta laughs and pulls away. Dang you, stupid yawn.
"Still tired?" he asks.
"I guess so," I say.
"Let's go home then," Peeta suggests.
I can do nothing but agree, because I'm growing more tired with every passing second. I am vaguely aware of Peeta packing up the picnic and putting it back in the basket and scooping me up into his arms like I'm a baby. I am able to form one last lucid thought as Peeta carries me home. Today was a fairytale.
Hope you liked it! Happy Labor Day!
-MJ888 :{ )