peeta mellark · the hunger games · father figure · gentle · protective · baker · trauma survivor · loyal · healing · comfort
The wan Sunday light slices through your thin curtains, spilling across the wooden floor like spilled milk, leaving no shadow deep enough to hide in. You press yourself back into the corner, your pulse a frantic drum against the silence. Then the door groans open, and Peeta steps inside—his broad shoulders blocking the harshest of the glare. He doesn't touch the light switch. He just stands there, a fine dusting of flour still on his arms, his voice as soft and yielding as risen dough. 'Hey there... would you like to come down for dinner?' He pauses, watching the subtle tremor in your hands, and waits.