|Reviews for The Coveted One|
| Guest chapter 1 . 6/3
Please write more
| Guest chapter 7 . 9/6/2015
You must finish please!
| FoxSp chapter 7 . 4/21/2015
Are you ever going to finish this story line, I really liked the way it was going. I'm a bit disappointed that it wasn't finished.
| Guest chapter 7 . 2/27/2015
I have an idea, when you start a story you need to finish it. Don't half ass things.
| Guest chapter 7 . 12/23/2014
Can you plzz write more chapters for this
| Clementine Buttersnaps chapter 7 . 6/13/2014
I I can't believe its been 3 years since you've updated this. You probably don't even get on here anymore. But if you do I want to let you know how great this story is. I don't think I've read a step sibling everlark fic before. Its interesting and I loved what little you had here. Please come back to this.
| HGGal chapter 7 . 4/19/2014
Just foud your writing! Please finish this story soon!
| Oreocookielove2468 chapter 7 . 3/19/2014
Nooooooo! You must write more! YOU MUST!
| Demanet92 chapter 7 . 1/11/2014
Is there ever coming a next part?
| Guest chapter 7 . 9/24/2013
Will u update this story plz!? This seems like it will really turnout good
| Fuck you chapter 7 . 7/20/2013
I read all of that and you cant even finish it !
| HhahaI'mnotorma chapter 4 . 6/15/2013
No one left the house on the day of the games. None of us were really up to doing anything. There was always a heavy, looming sense of dread right before they began.
Gale and I often watched the games together at either his or my home, but I had gently told him I wanted to stay at the bakery, and he told me he preferred to stay at his house with his family. He didn't seem to mind that we wouldn't watch them together, and I was glad that I hadn't hurt his feelings. There was just something about the bakery that was really comforting, and while I was sure the games would be just as horrible as they always were, I'd rather watch them somewhere where I felt warm and safe.
By noon, everyone in the house was holed up in their respective rooms, except for me. I was in the living room curled up on the couch, not doing anything particular and trying to think of something other than the games we would be witnessing in a few short hours. I couldn't stop thinking about who would die in the initial bloodbath, hoping that it wouldn't be the tiny girl from 12...
When I heard someone say my name, I jumped and, embarrassingly, squeaked. I twisted to see who it was, on edge from imagining how tributes would die tonight. Peeta stood in the doorway, chuckling and trying to make it look like he wasn't.
"Sorry," he said, followed by another soft laugh.
"You startled me," I told him, trying to get my heart rate back to normal.
"Yeah, I kinda noticed. You wanna... do something? Bake some bread maybe? I think I'm going to go crazy if I stay alone with my thoughts any longer." Peeta asking me to do something with him? Strange. But I definitely understood what he said about being alone with your thoughts. So I nodded my head and followed him into the kitchen.
Bread, as it turned out, was a lot more complicated to make than the biscuits we had done last night. "Yeast" was a new, confusing concept for me, but Peeta patiently explained it to me several times and answered all my questions. He had me knead the dough myself, and told me to keep going each time I wanted to stop from tired arms, though I didn't see any difference in the dough from two minutes after I started to when he finally decided it was finished.
Peeta put the dough into a bowl and placed a cloth on top of it, telling me we needed to wait for it to rise for at least thirty minutes before we baked it. We sat at the table in silence. I felt like I should say something, but I wasn't sure what. He had been much nicer to me today, and I wanted it to stay that way, since he wasn't bad company when he wasn't driving me nuts.
"This is always the worst day," Peeta said quietly, pulling me out of my thoughts. While he had been thinking about the games, I had been thinking about him, ironically the only time I had stopped thinking about them all day.
"I know," I replied simply, not really wanting to talk about it.
"It feels worse than all the rest of it because you know they're coming, and you can't stop thinking about them. The dread makes you feel sick all day, but when they actually happen, it's almost easier. So, it's like they're worse before they even start. If that makes any sense." He looked at me expectantly, wanting to see if I understood any of what he said.
"I agree," I told him truthfully. "It seems like all our emotions are felt before they begin, but when they actually happen, it's so terrible that we just... turn off."
"Exactly," Peeta said, nodding. "Exactly." He didn't say anything else, and I waited a minute to change the subject.
"What happened to your mom?" Peeta's mother was known as the witch around town. Nobody liked her, and I couldn't understand why someone as nice as Theo had married her. I only knew that she had died some years back, shortly after my father had. I got nervous when Peeta didn't answer right away, hoping it wasn't something that he was opposed to discussing.
"She died of pneumonia one winter. She didn't get any help until her lungs were so full of fluid that it was too late." He cringed. "Everyone in town seemed pretty happy about it, though." He shook his head slightly, staring down at his lap. It was true, what he said about people being happy about his mother's death. She was a mean, nasty woman that was never friendly with anyone and always snapped at people when they spoke to her.
"Do you miss her?" I asked Peeta, supposing that maybe there was a softer side to his mother that I hadn't seen.
"Sometimes. In weird moments, when I don't expect it. I mean, she was mean, but she was still my mother. My brothers miss her too sometimes, I think, but I doubt my father does."
"He never loved her. It was always your mother. When I was little, he'd take me to school and point you out, telling me that he had wanted to marry your mother, but she had fell in love with a miner." My eyes widened.
"Really?" I would have never guessed that Theo had loved my mother for so long. Peeta nodded.
"I think that's why my mother was so bitter. She loved my father, but she knew that his heart belonged to someone else, and she had to live with it every day."
"That's really sad," I told Peeta, suddenly feeling awful for his poor mother.
"It is. But I supposed that's the way love works. It's determined to make you
desperate for the one you're not allowed to have."
Just as I tried to wrap my brain around what he had just said, Peeta stood and announced it was time to check on the dough. I followed him to the counter, surprised to find that the dough was nearly double it's original size. We shaped it into two loaves and put them into the oven.
Once we had sat down again to wait for the bread to bake, I realized how much I wanted to talk to him again. When he wasn't being rude or arrogant, he was really quite pleasant to be around. We had been talking about awful things, but I didn't feel uncomfortable like I normally did with everyone else. But even though I wanted to speak with him again about something, anything really, I was nervous about being the first to say something. A small part of me was scared to bring something up that would rub him the wrong way and make him go back to the Peeta that didn't like me.
We sat in silence for a while, a silence that got heavier and more uncomfortable with each passing second. Right when I was about to excuse myself to the bathroom, just to get away from it, Peeta thankfully spoke and broke the awful quiet.
"Do you want a cookie?"
"What?" I spoke, then cringed. Why was it that I was constantly saying "what" to everything he said?
"You know... cookies? We have some leftover from yesterday."
"Um... okay." I watched him as he got up and retrieved them. They were the ones I had seen him decorating yesterday. Even as he handed me one, I couldn't help but admire the designs yet again.
"I've never had a cookie before," I admitted to him before I took a bite.
"Really? Well, then you'd better eat up, because you have a lot of catching up to do." I smiled and took a bite. It was really good, as I had expected. The cookie itself wasn't terribly sugary, but the icing added just the right amount of sweetness to make it perfect.
"You like it?" Peeta asked me. I nodded enthusiastically, popping another bite into my mouth.
"Cookies have always been my favorite, ever since I was little." Seeking a conversation starter, I asked him what living in a bakery had been like when he was young, as I was sure were so very different from my experiences as a small child. We talked for a long time, stopping only when it was time for dinner. After we ate, however, it was time to head to living room to witness the most dreadful part of our world.
I curled up next to Prim on the couch, and our TV snapped on at exactly seven o'clock. President Snow was the first to grace our screen. I didn't listen to a thing he said. He was a slimy, gross, little man and I hated every part of him.
Once he was finished speaking, we were cut to the arena. It was a forest with tall trees and little shrubbery. There was a large winding lake and a small field, where the cornucopia was. I was glad that it wasn't something terribly unfamiliar to the people of our district. Most people from 12 were able to handle themselves in a forest.
The tributes appeared in the arena, and almost immediately, the blood started to flow. The camera focused on Cato, the male from two, who was first to the cornucopia. He quickly grabbed a large green backpack and a knife. The boy from 6, who was just reaching for a bag, was the first person Cato saw and, therefore, the first for him to kill. He stabbed him right in the heart, and it almost made me feel sick to think that he knew exactly where to stab someone to cut right through their heart. The boy fell to the ground, and shortly after a canon sounded. The first one dead.
The screen cut around to multiple scenarios, but it was hard to tell who they were trying to focus on because there was so much chaos everywhere. Marvel and Glimmer, both from 1, had gotten what they needed from the cornucopia but had not yet left the area. Marvel had succeeded in knocking out the girl from 3, and Glimmer finished her off for him with a knife to the stomach.
The boy from our district, who had looked somewhat promising, was running to the forest with supplies. But right when he reached the trees, multiple arrows shot him in the back. Another canon. My eyes searched the screen for Pearl, but she wasn't anywhere to be seen.
It was hard to focus on any one thing. There was lots of blood, and so much noise. Screams, shouts, canons, and the occasional cracking of bones that always made me cringe. I had watched the games my entire life, but the sounds of people dying never got any easier.
Finally, after nearly twenty minutes, the bloodbath was finally over. There was a sidebar on the screen that flashed the images of the tributes who had been killed so far. The girls from three and four, boys from five
| Olyvia chapter 3 . 6/15/2013
This is AWESOME!
| aaltena26 chapter 7 . 6/14/2013
I like this story please finish it!
| JGrayzz chapter 2 . 6/5/2013
Just here to celebrate the 2 year anniversary since the last update.
Anyway, I suppose I'll be here next year as well. Maybe then I can afford a digital cake.
I still think you should consider a text trollface for a chapter... It would only make sense. Great story by the way.
Well, until next year!