When I finished writing Broken, I intended it to be, well, finished. I have to be inspired when I write – I get an idea, and it just won't leave my head until I've written it. It can be pretty intense, but once I'm finished, it's over. But then I got PMs and reviews asking me to write a sequel… And you are right. There is still so much that is missing, even though I made sure they got around to doing the dirty deed at last! ;)

In other words: I'm still inspired by the Hunger Games universe.

So, first of all, I've changed my pen name, because Notwritinganymore is clearly not appropriate anymore. ;)

Secondly, I call this story "scenes from the sequel", not "the sequel". Which means that it won't be a story with a beginning and an end, like Broken, but mainly scenes, pieces here and there, probably written independently from each other. I might even go back and forth in time (but I'll let you know where we are on the timeline if necessary). I may also change the POV from one chapter to the next, but I'll indicate clearly if the POV changes from that of Katniss. I could've posted the stories separately, I guess, but I'm posting them all together to make them all easier to find.

I'm continuing on my own slightly AU story, Broken, which I recommend that you read first – you can find it here: s/9426259/1/Broken. In short, I left off after Peeta and Katniss finally (after 17 chapters LOL) got around to have sex for the first time. My additions to the original story arch are mainly that Peeta's hijacking was strongly targeting his sexuality and his sexual desire for Katniss, which left him very damaged, plus Haymitch was sold by the Capitol, just like Finnick.

I'm not sure where these scenes are going, but we'll see. I started off with a K rating, but I quickly realized I might as well rate it M right away. Hey, they are two teenagers in love, chances are they won't be doing it just that once. ;)

So the first scene is set pretty much where I left them in Broken– on the morning after their first time.

SCENE ONE: THE NEXT MORNING

I wake slowly from a deep sleep. My body feels so heavy, sinking into the mattress, becoming one with it. Even opening my eyelids seems like too much effort. There's a strange flapping sound, and it takes a while for my muddled brain to register what it is – the curtains flapping in the wind. My nose is ice cold. I open my eyes, blinking against the winter sun which is shining through the window. It's been snowing through in through the window, and I wonder why we didn't close it last night. The snow has started to melt there on the floor, even though the room is ice cold. It's nice and warm in bed, though.

Peeta is sleeping next to me. He's lying on his stomach, head turned towards me, he's been drooling on the pillow. I smile, I want to touch him, but I also don't want to wake him. He looks so content, so peaceful.

My body aches.

Content… It comes back to me, I wonder what took my sleepy brain so long. How could I forget what happened last night? I lie perfectly still, holding my breath. Wondering why everything feels the same, yet why it also feels so different. Am I different? Is he?

Tears spring to my eyes as I remember the look in his eyes last night, afterwards, holding me tight, as if he never wanted to let me go. Love, passion, pain, trust, hope, joy, awkwardness, curiosity.

I can't help myself, I reach out my hand to touch his cheek lightly. He needs to shave. I like his three-day stubble, it makes him look sexy in a sort of roughish way, but I think there are more than a few parts of my body that are now raw and sore because of them. I make a mental note to ask him to shave before we think about doing this again. As I shift my body, I wince, and suddenly realize that a repeat performance this morning, at least, is definitely off.

Peeta's eyes flutter open at my gentle touch, his eyes are so intensely blue in the cold winter sun. He doesn't look surprised, like me, he immediately smiles at me, lazily, sated. "Hey beautiful," he says.

I can't help but break out in a huge smile. I'm not used to being called beautiful. I've never regarded myself as beautiful – neither before the Games, nor after them, and certainly not after being burned. My body has been merely a functional item, strong and agile enough to hunt, bringing in food, preventing me from starving to death. Winning the Hunger Games. My body has known so much hunger and pain. Beauty has always seemed like a superficial, unnecessary quality, one I never considered.

But being with Peeta has taught me things I never knew about my body – a hunger of a different kind. Feelings I never knew existed. How his fingers, his body, his cock, could make me forget everything, until he is the only one who exists in my universe. So when he tells me that I'm beautiful, instead of making me feel embarrassed, or even angry, it makes me so grateful and happy. When did I become so weak and shallow that I want to be pretty for Peeta Mellark?

"You do know you're pretty biased, right?" I tease him.

He laughs. "Yeah, but that's my privilege as your lover," he whispers, huskily, leaning towards me, kissing my neck, lightly grazing it with his teeth. My body shudders deliciously.

Lover.

Now that's different.

It's both frightening and exhilarating. This could take some time to get used to – thinking of Peeta as my lover.

But now he is.

"My lover," I say, as if testing the word.

Peeta grins so widely I think the smile is about to go all around his head. His hair is a mess, sticking up in spikes. He looks so handsome like this, in the morning, still sleepy, all happiness. He deserves to be happy. He deserves it so much. And I, selfish, broken Katniss, is the one who's going to make him happy. That's scary.

"Yeah." He reaches out for me, brings my head in close to his, kisses me deeply, sensually, lazily. Our tongues touch, tasting, dancing, sharing. His other hand goes lower, stopping briefly over my breast, then continuing over my belly, down towards my sex. As his hand ventures between my legs, I whimper in pain and sit up, which makes the pain worse. I feel raw and skinless, and there's something that seems… dried on the inside of my thighs, it's as if my body is sticking to the bed sheets.

Peeta sits up, too, suddenly serious. "Are you okay?" I nod, lips pressed, pale. "Are you in pain?" I hesitate, then nod again. "Can I take a look?" I blush furiously – it's not as if he's never seen me naked before, of course, but this is different. Never have I felt this vulnerable. "Lie down," he says, and I do as he says. I distantly wonder when I, Katniss Everdeen, hunter, the girl on fire, suddenly started taking orders about lying down and spreading my legs, from a baker son. His fingers touch me, very lightly, on the inside of my thigh, over the dried something. His blue eyes meet mine. "You're sore. You should've told me I hurt you like this, I…" He looks so guilty, it's actually endearing.

"It's okay," I say, with a small smile.

"No, it's not."

"It was inevitable."

"No, it wasn't! I could've been more careful, taking it slower… We could've used several nights, not… everything had to happen last night. I didn't have to go… all the way inside. I should've been more careful."

I remember how he thrust into me, hard, a reflex reaction to my walls clenching around him. "It's not as if I was protesting, was it?" I tease him. I remember how vocal and wild I was yesterday, not sure if I should be embarrassed or proud. "It was perfect. Exactly the way it should be. I'll heal, I've had worse injuries."

Of course he knows, but none of my injuries have been caused by love and passion.

"I'll clean you up," he says, and goes into the bathroom. I look at myself, well, what I can see, anyway. I can only feel the soreness, which is hidden from my view, but I can see a mess of mostly dried blood, but also dried semen on my thighs and on the bedsheet. No wonder it felt like I was sticking to the bed.

Peeta comes back with some wet cloth wipes. He cleans me up, taking great care not to hurt me any more than he has to. This act of intense intimacy and care brings tears to my eyes. I feel so weak, and I, Katniss Everdeen, hate feeling weak. But somehow it's okay. Peeta's taking care of me. It's been so long since someone took care of me. It feels good. Safe.

Finally he's done. "Thank you," I say.

He kisses me on the lips, feathery light. "Thank you," he answers. "Last night was… wow."

"Wow?"

"Yeah, wow."

"Do you want to do it again?" I whisper.

"You bet," he whispers back, hot in my ear. "I want to do it again, all day, every day, every night, in every way possible." He leans back. "But not until you've healed up properly."

I can't hold back a small sigh of relief.

I need to go to the bathroom. Getting up hurts, and when Peeta worriedly asks: "Can you walk?" and actually tries to support me as if I'm a cripple, I shrug him off.

"It's not like my legs were shot off, Peeta," I hiss. "I'll be all right."

"Okay. Just go back to bed when you're done, I'll make us breakfast."

That certainly sounds like a good idea. I put on one of his old t-shirts I find in the bathroom, it's been used and smells of him. When he comes back with a tray of food and what can only be warm chocolate, I'm sitting on the bed, underneath the covers, waiting for him. "Do you have any idea how sexy you look right now?" he says, and I blush. "In my old t-shirt, your hair all fuzzy, heavy eyelids and flushed skin from being fucked by me?" I blush even deeper, and don't tell him that my face is flushed because I just washed it. Who knew that Peeta would say things like this? This seems like a whole new man. Peeta, a dirty talker?

I thought I knew him well, but obviously there are still things to be learned about him.

I can't wait to find out what they are. I can definitely get used to this.

We have breakfast in bed, which is another first for us. The bread is from yesterday, as Peeta has had other things on his mind than baking this morning, but it doesn't matter. Good company, yesterday's bread, hot chocolate – I can't remember a happier morning since… Before my father died.

Don't go there, Katniss. Don't ruin this perfect morning.

We're both starving, and we eat mostly in silence, only interrupted by an occasional kiss. After we're both done, we lie down on the bed, he's holding his arms around me while I play with the few blond hairs on his chest.

Then someone's pounding on the door. I sigh. I know who it is, it can pretty much be only one person. After all, there aren't that many people in District 12 anymore, and not many of them are likely to come visit us without prior arrangement.

Haymitch.

"He'll go away," Peeta whispers, as if Haymitch can hear him outside. Then he nods towards the still open window.

"Hey, lovebirds? I know you're in there! Open up!"

"Don't go!" I hiss.

"Do I have to break in the door?" He sounds drunk, but not more than usual. It is, I conclude after a quick look at my watch, nearly 11. He's had plenty of time to drink already.

Peeta sighs, and quickly puts on a pair of jeans, going downstairs to open the door. I can hear that Haymitch comes inside, but I can't hear what they're talking about, their voices being muffled by the doors separating us. I decide to get out of bed. I find some clean underwear and my jeans – putting them on makes me grit my teeth - quickly braid my hair and take a look in the mirror to make sure I look more or less presentable and hopefully not as thoroughly post-coital as I actually feel, and I go downstairs.

The stairs. Damn. Forgot about them. I take a deep breath and try not to let my pain show on my face. Peeta and Haymitch are standing by the door, I can't find out what they've been talking about, because they both stop talking when they see me venture down the stairs, walking like I'm treading on glass.

I'm such a horrible actor.

I curse myself for this stupid idea, why didn't I just stay in bed?

"Good morning, Haymitch," I say with a fake smile.

"It's not morning, girl on fire, it's nearly noon," he says with a smirk. His narrows his eyes. He's watching me like I'm a bug under the microscope. A dangerous smile plays on his lips. He cocks an eyebrow. "Looks like someone got lucky last night."

Peeta blushes deeply.

"You could've been more careful, Peeta. She can hardly walk. But I guess I was right about the two of you, she can't even walk straight. Told you so, didn't I? Congratulations, son," he says, shaking Peeta's hand. Peeta looks mortified, and I just want to disappear through the floor, but unfortunately, the floor does not open to swallow me. At least I'm finally down the stairs, thankfully.

"Shut up, Haymitch," I hiss.

Haymitch comes towards me, and when he gives me a hug it's so surprising I don't slap him or even push him away. He kisses my hair. I meet his eyes afterwards, and I'm surprised to see that they are full of tears. "I'm so happy for you," he says.

I don't trust my voice to answer.

"Well, I'll leave you two lovebirds alone," he says, walking through the door. "You don't touch her for a couple of days, stud. And if you want some tips on how to handle a lady, let me know, I know a fair number of ways to please a woman."

Peeta is now flushing so deeply it looks like all the blood of his body is in his face.

"That was… weird," I say, after Haymitch has left.

"Awkward."

"Yeah."

I'm a bit annoyed that Haymitch actually was right about me not being able to walk straight afterwards, not to mention him being here to see it. But there's no way of keeping secrets from him, anyway, he knows me too well.

"Want to go back to bed?" Peeta asks.

I look up the stairs, considering how it felt to walk down them, and shudder. No thanks.

I end up on the couch in the living room with a blanket over me and another cup of warm chocolate in my hands, while Peeta lights a fire in the fireplace. The room is soon warm and cozy, and we snuggle underneath the blanket. We spend the day there, talking, reading, kissing, eating. It's been so long since we just spent a day together like this, with no plans, no angst, no problems. The last time must've been… I struggle to remember, it must've been the day before we left for the Quarter Quell.

I shut that thought out.

Today, it's just us. Katniss and Peeta. Lovers.

The pain between my legs slowly subsides, I'm still feeling sore, but it feels a lot better than it did this morning already. I tell him, shyly, and he looks relieved. I can tell he's still feeling bad about hurting me.

I fall asleep in his arms at one point a few hours after dinner. I half wake when he carries me upstairs, so carefully, I don't know if he's afraid to wake me or to hurt me or both. He puts me down on the bed, pulls the covers up over me, and slips in behind me, holding around me.

I know he'll never let go.

I fall asleep.

Like it? Hate it? Have any ideas for scenes you'd like me to explore? Let me know! I love feedback. :)