#but this hurts so much because of how plaintive she sounds :((

[victoriadallonfan]

- Polarize 10.5

Kenzie

Sweety

You deserve all the good things in life

[hibischush]

her angel wings surround my heartbeat NSFW

description; This wasn’t supposed to happen, March reminded himself. But when he’s head first in the farmer’s thighs, he can’t help but feel like he’s tending to an angel.

notes; Y'all ain't gon' believe this. I posted this fic to AO3 like an hour a go but I got side-tracked by ordering Indian food and as I patiently wait for my butter chicken and naan I shall feed you that NSFW fic featuring March 😌 Also, I tried to do like a...dual story telling but please lemme know if it needs some reworking to become more coherent.

word count; 1,363

warnings; this is NSFW! Minors Do Not Interact. Also some self-hatred and religious imagery so if you do not chill with that then don't read this

He’s an idiot. He has no one to blame but himself. When the farmer confessed her feelings for him, he scoffed and told her to buzz off. He told her so despite the thunderous beating in his chest, like a caged animal trying to break free of its confinement. Despite the fact that he wanted her so damn badly, March has always been a coward when it came to love.

He just couldn’t imagine someone as successful and so widely loved as her being interested in such a train wreck as he is. So he turned her away. He stood there like a dumbass, watching the hurt and pining cross over her eyes as she turned away with a sad smile.

“I see. I just thought I should let you know, because I would regret not telling you when I had the chance.”

She knew he was a liar. She knew, and he knew. And they both knew that he’d come to regret not telling her then, too.

He clutched his fists at his side as she walked out of the blacksmiths. Not because she angered him—no, not at all. Because he was foolish enough to have denied a deity.

The farmer whimpers and pulls on his fiery red locks, pulling him impossibly further into her folds, and he fights the urge to moan against her. She ground against March’s mouth, and he instantly loses his fight against being quiet, moaning before smacking her ass to silently convince her to stay still. The sound reverberated in the overly quiet, moonlit farmhouse. She gasped and covered her mouth to remain quiet, staring at him with wide eyes. March felt a warm twist in his abdomen. Guilt. Knowing that he doesn’t deserve the way she looks at him, a gaze with so much desire it could burn a hole in his skin. He sometimes felt sick, knowing that she could do better.

She wouldn’t stop by the blacksmith’s often after that. He thought the distance was for the better. Even though her absence gnawed away at his heart.

When he was able to catch Mistria’s farmer out and about—as by then he found himself seeking her—he only managed to make himself more plaintive. And by Gods, did it piss March off.

He hated that she could still force a smile. Hated that she would still glance longingly at his back, only to look away when he would return the glance. She was still the kind, sweet girl that the town came to know. She was so lively when talking to others. But the moment her eyes landed on the prized blacksmith, her façade collapsed like a poorly constructed house of cards. She talked meekly and flatly to him, and he could tell that she was fighting her urge to love him—or smack him. He couldn’t tell. He hated that she still cared about him. When they talked, her pretty eyes watered, and her frown was laced with pity.

He would spend late nights obsessively thinking about her. Her lovely eyes, her cute laugh. He would remind himself how severely he ached for her while he relieved himself, emptying himself on his lonely, calloused hand. He hated himself most of all for pushing her away and for pleasing himself in the dark to the thought of her. He felt like such a perverted loser.

He knew he was overstimulating her. She just about screamed when March slid two of his fingers inside her, her plot to cover her mouth to stay quiet notwithstanding. She trembled as he curled them against her walls, his lips still firmly attached to her clit. The journey to please such an angel was March’s personal pilgrimage, hopefully ending with her in bliss and clarity. He took his time to appreciate everything about his lover, as he needed to remind himself that she's real and his. He tried to contain himself even when his free hand snaked down to his trousers to palm his erection, grinding against it feebly. He’s positive that she could feel his stuttering breath against her pussy.

March didn't remember all the details of the night he confronted her. All he knew was that the belle looked incredible in her evening dress at one of Mistria’s many events at the manor, and she was talking to some guy—clearly not from Mistria. What March does remember well was the intense jealousy that slammed into his chest as he watched her flash her charming smile to the unknown man. And the pure ire that made his blood pump hot by watching him get handsy with her while she tried to politely tell him to back off.

March walked towards them, already fuming. Gently pulling her closer to his side by her waist and firmly removing the man’s hand off of her. He said nothing to him as he glared daggers into him and silently whisked her way, ignoring the man’s pathetic attempts to retrieve her.

She pulled her hand away from her mouth, a strand of spit following it, and cried his name out loudly. He knew that she was close and that his crusade was coming to an end. He maintained his bestial pace, finger-fucking her until he was positive she was seeing stars, and continued to desperately lick at her clit, slobbering like a dog that hadn’t eaten in days.

When she finally snapped and released herself on his face with a moan, he whined against her, bringing his grinding to a stop. He couldn’t bring himself to cum when he worshiped her. March has already done so many selfish things in his life that when his tongue lapped at her cunt, he could almost feel the sins on his shoulders flake off like the embers off of charred wood. He's yearning for her to know that he needs her, to the point that he's eager for her to use his body for her own pleasure. She deserves it, after all of the bullshit he’s drug her through.

His first mistake in this confession was pulling her to a secluded corner of the manor, one where the moon perfectly cast its light on her smooth skin and made her jewelry glow around her face, framing it like a halo. Her beauty terrified him and made him stumble over his words. He explained himself poorly to her, talking himself into a circle when trying to explain the way she made him feel. He felt like an idiot for the way his legs trembled. Who could blame him when the person he was talking to was a goddess in his eyes?

Before he lost the courage to say this for the second time, he blurted, “I'm in love with you. And I'm sorry I'm such an asshole.”

The way that her breath hitched as she parted her puffy lips was enough to make his heart explode. He selfishly pulled her into his chest and kissed her. Hard. He was expecting her to push him off, to strike him, to tell him off for being a jerk to her, and to say that it was too late for him to confess. The last thing he expected after he pulled away from her was for her to quietly lock the door behind him and pull him closer for a much more passionate kiss.

She jolts as he runs his tongue up and down her weeping slit, making sure that all of her heavenly essence makes it into his mouth. With one last kiss to her sex, he quickly marks the insides of her thighs, kissing them gently as if to apologize for making her his own. She sighs again as March kisses up her navel, stopping to nip at her neck. He sheepishly grins against her warm skin when she giggles after he playfully licks her ear. The sound of her laughter was almost as if the gateway to somewhere more holy than this plane of existence opened itself up to him. She cradles his flushed face, blessing him with a tender kiss—one that rids him of transgressions.

“I love you, March.”

“I love you, too.”

Can you tell that this is very Take Me to Church by Hozier-coded? Didn’t mean for that to happen but when you take body worship as a basis for your fic its bound to happen lmao. Anywoozies criticism is very welcome since idk if this is even a solid fic. As always, thank you for reading 🌺💗

[alder-saan]

Why hello it’s me again…I absolutely adored the last writing you did for me I was wondering if I could request another… or course as a Cersei simp maybe a Cersei x FemMaiden/Nanny for her children ? Where Cersei is frustrated and lashes out on her secret girlfriend and for once feels horrible about it ?

If that’s confusing I apologize!

Much love ❤️

I believe you

Okay okay, I went somehow a bit far with this one. That's why I need to say something : VIOLENCE ISN'T OKAY. This is a fiction. I wrote it trying not to romantize it too much. If your partner (or just a friend, or a relative) hit you, that's a real problem, and don't hesitate to ask for help. I made an open ending, if reader forgive or not, that's up to you. And sorry, it's a bit shorter that the usual, but I didn't want to write many description (bcz of artistic reasons?)

Cersei Lannister x Reader

TW : physical violence, torture (on animals), Jeoffrey Lannister

Words count : ~ 1300

“No Jeoffrey, your mother told you to stay in your room.”

“You’ll have to make me, worthless servant!”

You held back from slapping him. He was still a boy, but already unbearable. You were usually taking care of Myrcella, but today, Jeoffrey’s nanny was sick, and Cersei had asked you to watch him, while she found a replacement. But this situation made you nervous. You didn’t like him. He was unbearable. And Myrcella  told you about him, about the way he acted. He was pure evil.

“Now, find something to do in your room.”

You really missed Myrcella, right now. Calm, daydreaming almost all day…

“Come with me then. You wouldn’t want someone to attack me, would you? Or maybe you are a traitor, and my mother will hear about it.”

You sighed.

“Yes, I will come with you.”

You led the way to his room. You really didn’t like it. It was always full of agonising insects, to which he removed the legs and wings “for fun”. Once, you saw him playing with the body of a half dead cat, and almost threw up. This child was really scary.

But how could you refuse anything from Cersei, your Cersei… Especially when she asked you something in the morning, while you were waking up naked in her bed. The thoughts of your last night spent in her sheets made you shudder. That was a few days ago. You missed her. She has been busy these days, and has had no time for you. But that was okay, you knew once everything was done, it would be nice again.

You entered his room, shivering. Now you just had to watch him until evening. You sat on a chair and opened the book you brought to pass time. 

Soon you heard a strange, almost plaintive squeaking sound.

“What are you doing, Jeoffrey?”

“I’m dismembering a beetle! It’s fun, it’s screaming!”

“Stop hurting animals.”

“It’s just a beetle!”

“And yet it can feel pain. If not, it wouldn’t scream like this.”

“You’re not funny.”

You didn’t answer and continued reading your book.

When Jeoffrey approached you, you ignored him. He made you feel really uncomfortable, and so you didn’t want to speak to him or to do something with him.

Then you felt him prick your hand which was under the book with a needle. 

“Do you feel pain?” he asked.

Your body reacts by itself and you hit him with your book.

“You son of a b-” You stopped before insulting your lover.

While he was crying on the floor, because you hit him, you felt a bit guilty. But you couldn’t move to help him and comfort him. He was a horrible child who loved torturing animals. You were not sure he deserved your helm.

“My mother will hear about this!”

“Yeah, go tell your mother.”

You trusted her. She would believe you, you knew it. And as Jeoffrey ran out of his room, you opened your book again and continued reading, for a few minutes. You enjoyed the stillness of the room, without him in it.

Soon you heard the door slamming open.

“Y/N!”

You turned your head towards Cersei, who was yelling your name, Jeoffrey in her arms.

“You had ONE job! Watching Jeoffrey! First you let him escape from his room, without monitoring, and now I learnt you beat Jeoffrey?”

“I didn’t-”

“Shut up, I’m talking. I like you, Y/N, but you know full well there are three people in the world you can’t hurt if you want to keep me by your side, right? Jeoffrey is one of them.” 

Okay, she was really mad. She was looking at you with such anger in her eyes. That was terrifying. She was unrecognisable, Cersei had never been so rude with you. You stood up and walked towards her.

“I’m sorry that was a… It was a reflex, I didn't do it on purpose”

“A reflex? Beating my child? A REFLEX?”

“No, I-”

SMACK

You held your breath. A burn was beginning to invade your cheek. You put your hand on it. It was hot. What had just happened?

“That was a reflex, Y/N. Now out.”

You choked back a sob and swallowed your tears. You didn’t want her to see you crying. And while you were walking out of the room, Jeoffrey gave you a big winning smile. You had lost.

You spent the rest of the day in your little room. Lying in bed, snuggled up in the covers, you were crying. You didn't really know why. Were you crying because she had hit you? Was it because you had disappointed her? Was it because Jeoffrey had won? Maybe the three of them. You left your hand on your cheek, even though you were no longer in pain. Why? Why did she do that? Why did she have this look? Why didn’t she believe you? Didn’t she trust you?

Someone knocked upon your door.

You ignored them and tried not to make a sound.

“Y/N, I know you’re here. Open the door.”

You couldn’t reprime a sob when you heard Cersei’s voice.

Silence.

“Open this door, please. I want to talk to you”

You stood up and wiped your tears. Your eyes were still red and puffy. “I look terrible,” you thought as you were seeing them in the small mirror on your wall. You opened the door. She entered and closed it behind her. You couldn’t look her in the eye. When she approached her hand, you took a step back.

“Y/N… I… I’m so sorry. It was mean of me, I have no excuse. But I wanted to apologise to you.”

“That’s okay, your Highness. I’m okay”

“You’re not. That’s not. I hurt you. Physically and mentally.”

You couldn’t speak. Maybe because you didn’t want to.

“Jeoffrey told me you had been violent with him, he told me you kicked him… At first I didn’t believe him, but when I saw his red cheek… Please, tell me what happened.”

“While I was reading, he stuck a needle in my hand. I swear I didn’t want to hit him, but my hand moved anyway and… And I hit him, yes.”

“You didn’t kick him? You didn’t beat him?”

“I didn’t. That was an accident. I’m so sorry.”

“I believe you. That’s not the first time he lies.”

You nodded. She took your hand. You wanted to escape, but you couldn’t move.

“Please, give me another chance. One. Just one chance. I don’t want to lose you. Not like that.”

“I’m afraid…” you whispered “You looked so angry at me… I couldn’t recognize you. As if I didn’t know you.”

“I’m sorry, this week was exhausting, I… I’m tired, I’m stressed out, I’m overworked, and I miss you. I overreacted. I shouldn’t have, I know. That’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Some tears rolled on your cheeks, and she cupped your face and wiped them.

“I’m so sorry, darling. Believe me.” 

You sobbed, and she held you tight. You snuggled into her arms, your head resting on her shoulder. As you were crying, she kissed your forehead and your hair.

“If you need time, I understand. I would wait a thousand years for you.”

“I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t. Don’t be sorry. I told you none of this is your fault.”

You nodded, she kissed your head again and again.

“I have to go, love, I have another meeting. But I’ll return to you right after. Okay?”

“Okay, Cersei.”

She was slowly removing her arms from your back, when you stopped her.

“Before you go, can you… kiss me?” you asked

“You want me to kiss you?”

“Yes, please.”

She pressed her lips against yours. That wasn’t what you were used to. Usually, she would kiss you as if it was the last time, as if she wanted to eat you entirely. Now, it was soft, it was gentle. As if the kiss was whispering “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry”.

_________________________________________________

Again, violence isn't okay.

[whomeidontknowthem]

MOURN THEM (7)

Part 7/9 for the Alphabet of Whump.

Content warning: blood, torture, electric collars, living weapon whump, conditioning, dehumanization.

H is for Home

Eighteen’s ears still rang from the echo of Tane’s screams when he reached out, arm trembling so much it had to hurt in its own right, and weakly squeezed her fingers. “Niveth,” he called. His voice sounded like sandpaper, and immediately he coughed and then whined. 

Eighteen didn’t respond, staring at his hand on hers. Lowered herself back to the ground, if only so that he didn’t have to reach upwards. It must have hurt. 

“Don’t go,” he whispered. “Just give me a– just a mo–,” he tried to keep his voice level, Eighteen heard how much he tried. He couldn’t manage more than a shaky whisper interrupted by a sob, another and another one. His muscles spasmed, trying and failing to move. In the scarce light, she could make out the glistening tears traveling down his face. “It hurts so much…”

Eighteen waited. In the solitary locked for the night, there was nowhere else she could go.

“Niveth,” he called many minutes later, voice steadier if barely. Eighteen knew he was calling her. Hearing the name felt wrong. Jarring. It made her chest tighten and throb, and she didn’t know what to do to stop the pain.

“Niveth,” Tane tried again. His fingers tightened around hers. They were cold – it was cold in the cell. He must be cold. 

She rose abruptly, taking off the shirt even as he jerked at the sudden motion. One layer of fabric wasn’t warm enough, but it was better than nothing. He winced as it touched the red angry lines criss-crossing most of his body (he’d screamed on the top of his lungs after she’d counted half a hundred; writhed and begged for it to stop as his shoulders gave out; she hadn’t stopped) but settled when she sat back by him.

“Niveth.” His eyes were wide open in the darkness, tracing the lines of her body. She felt exposed for the first time in years. “Won’t you answer me?”

“It’s Eighteen,” she told him. Her voice shook as much as his. She didn’t know why. She swallowed and tried again even as his eyes glistened with something like hurt, “It’s Eighteen.”

“The hell it is.” He sounded as if he meant it. Her breath caught. She knew it couldn’t be the case. 

Tane sighed. He reached out again, wincing from the effort, squeezed her hand. She moved closer to make it easier. 

“I miss you, Niveth,” he told her then, eyes half-lidded. His voice was quiet, tired, pained, plaintive in a way that made her heart shatter. At times, she wasn’t sure if she could feel anything at all; all of a sudden, she felt too much. “I thought you were dead…”

She remembered his face, pale and covered in blood. She remembered the way she couldn’t tell if he was alive. She remembered wishing he wasn’t, because then she would know it wasn’t by choice that he left. 

“She is dead,” Eighteen told him. Tane’s fingers burnt hers. The dead man’s hand squeezing the hand of the dead woman. There was nowhere in the locked cell that she could run.

“You’re right here–”

“She’s dead. She’s dead, she’s dead, she’s dead she’s dead she’s dead–”

“Hey.” There was a hand cupping her cheek, thumb pressing under the thin, long since healed scar. She flinched away. She didn’t want this. She didn’t want to feel him disappear. 

“Hey-hey-hey. Niveth. Look at me, please.” his voice was strained. He was half-sitting now, the shirt fallen onto the ground. She obeyed the order. She always obeyed, even if it hurt. “You’re right here. And I’m here now. It’s not–” he shifted and gasped when the movement tagged on some wound. Eighteen helped him to a sitting position. He caught her arm before she could move away.

“It’s not too late,” Tane told her, face to face. She couldn’t stop trembling. She wasn’t injured, and she couldn’t stop trembling, and she couldn’t manage a full breath, and she couldn’t couldn’t couldn’t couldn’t stop the ache in her chest. She sobbed, the sound tearing through her throat against her will.

Tane smiled, a sad, fragile thing, and tugged her closer, until she nearly collapsed against him. She couldn’t hold back the tears. He didn’t ask her to.

“You won’t have to wait for long anymore,” he promised, one hand running through her hair. “Just a few more days, okay? We won’t be staying here for long.” His arm moved down, fingers running the length of the collar. “I know how to take this thing off. I have people waiting for me. They would know things went wrong and would come for me. For us. I’ll tell you what to do, okay? And we’ll get you out of here.”

It didn’t sound real. None of it did. But if it was just a trick of her mind, she didn’t want it to stop feeling so warm. So gentle as he stroke her hair.

“We’ll get you home, Niveth.”

She wasn’t sure she remembered what it was supposed to mean, but she felt something shift in her chest anyway. Something warm and quiet, and so fragile. She didn’t want it to stop.

When in the morning she was alone with the handler, they looked at her with a smile.

“So,” they asked. “What did he tell you?”

[gwenllian-in-the-abbey]

Chapter 4 is here at long last! @aifsaath and I did not hold back with this one and as a result... it's long! Have an excerpt from a scene between Alicent and Aegon as a preview:

“You are their king.” His mother’s voice now held a plaintive note. “They obey you. Who are they to refuse? Traitors, Aegon!”

That might have been true when there were dragons. If Sunfyre yet lived he would fly out to Stark and burn the whole host. But the dragons were gone. “And if they are traitors, mother, what then? Traitor is but a word. I cannot force them to heel with no armies and no dragons. I can only bargain. Offer. Grandfather tried to teach me diplomacy, but in my rage I would not listen, and nearly lost my life because of it. Should I repeat that mistake?” 

His mother blinked at him, and then she gave a brittle little laugh. “You do sound a bit like him.” 

Aegon smoothed his thumb over the bandage on his left hand, the flesh of his palm still tender from where he’d held back Perkin’s knife, so close to his chest. “Once, that would have made you happy. But fear not, I am not my grandfather. Nor am I my father.”

“Nor the boy I knew,” the dowager queen said. “This man is a stranger.”

As much as the words hurt, she was not wrong. That boy had died at Rook’s Rest, his ashes scattered upon Dragonstone’s rocky shores. War had changed them both. “And the mother I knew would have urged me to make peace, not seek vengeance. Do you not recall how you raged at Aemond after he killed Lucerys?”

“As I recall, you served him strawberry fool at the feast you threw. Rhaenyra thought your celebration was sincere. She raged at me for it, when I pleaded with her for peace and mercy.”

He shook his head. “I would have too, should she have thrown a feast after the deaths of my children. Aemond had done the deed and plunged us into war, and there was no changing that. You never understood him, mother. He felt more shame at being feted for his childish actions than he did from your haranguing.”

“Perhaps it was I that was the fool, thinking there could be peace with those monsters. Were he here, he would never stand for this, Aegon.”

Of course, if Aemond were here Lady Baela would be dead, and the boy too. But Aemond had abandoned them to their fates, chasing Daemon about the Riverlands while their mother and sister suffered Rhaenyra’s indignities. “I am sorry, mother, that he did not come home, that they all died and I’m the only one left. But I will not apologize for working to bring about peace, instead of ensuring that we died with them. I’m not sorry that I want to live. Would you begrudge me that?” Tags under the cut, let me know if you'd like to be added:

@theothermaidoftarth @emilykaldwen @alexandria-millie @branwendaughterofllyr @prodogg @uniqueobjectcollective

[honorhearted]

Anne's embarrassment caused his own to blaze across his cheeks, his hands tightening at his sides. Why had he found that an appropriate confession? Clearly, the very idea horrified her, if not completely repulsed her, and unsure of how else to deflect, he fumbled, "I'm sorry, I...I am not being a gentleman."

And arguably hadn't for a long, long time -- or at least, not with her. Never before had he been so brazen in his desires, and the realization made his cheeks color further still. He only looked up again when Anne spoke with conviction, starting him with her resolute, Yes, I do.

She did? She did wish to further this -- whatever this even was?

With his thoughts swirling about in a violent maelstrom, Benjamin listened as though half-underwater, conceding that her idea to find Sarah a suitor was sound, but also wondering how on earth he could play along without falling prey to guilt. He wouldn't be helping Sarah out of the goodness of his heart; no, he would be helping for the good of his own, and that rankled his conscience quite fiercely.

"If we put our heads together, I'm sure we could figure something out."

Benjamin scoffed. "It seems to me that 'putting out heads together' resulted in quite the mess," he pointed out. "Anne, ever since I kissed you, I've been in a complete muddle...I should not have taken such heedless liberty, and I should not have forced myself on you without a warning, and during my alleged courtship with Miss Pleinsworth, no less." He groaned, dropping his face into his open palm. "I feel terrible. Not for what we did, but because I'm not even remotely sorry... And surely, that makes me some type of scoundrel."

"What about Mister Bridgerton? Gregory?" Anne persisted. "Sarah has always fancied him, and it seems their ambitions are aligned well enough to torment you. Maybe we can figure something out to get them together, and possibly begin a courtship of their own."

Benjamin's laughter was half-hearted. "They do seem to have bonded over my mishap," he agreed, flashing a more genuine smile. "You might be on to something...though woe to anyone who crosses them, seeing how they've proven themselves quite the formidable team."

And then just like that, the mood plummeted with only a handful of words.

"You would... flee the country just to avoid me?" Anne asked. Her voice was soft and plaintive, mournful almost, and the wounded quality of her eyes lanced across Benjamin's heart like a brand.

"Not by choice," he weakly allowed, "but by necessity. The easiest way to avoid damaging hearts is to simply remove myself from the equation."

"Why?" she miserably asked. "Why does it terrify you?"

Perplexed, Benjamin's kneejerk response was, "Why does it not terrify you? Anne, I know it might be difficult to perceive, but I spent an entire war feeling adrift and unable to control anything around me -- not even my own body after I'd been wounded. And this...this is very much like that, because I feel unable to restrain my heart and what it feels for you."

Anne's eyes glistened and Benjamin swallowed, immediately looking away. He couldn't bear to see her pain.

"What are you scared of, Ben? That I might hurt you? Or is it that you're afraid I might love you back?"

Chin quivering, Benjamin tried to ignore the hopeful, buoyant leap in his heart -- could she love him back? -- but shaking his head, he denied, "I can't. I...I can't. I came here to escape my guilt and the tragedy I inevitably bring, and yet here I am, spiraling everything off its axis just like before. I always intended to return to America, but now..." Trailing off, he earnestly lifted his eyes to her again. "Now, I don't know what to do. I never thought I'd have anything even remotely promising here in Mayfair."

A sudden defiance eclipsed Anne's gaze and she surged forward, forcing him to maintain eye contact. Discomfited, Benjamin tried to look away, but found himself unable.

She denied him the opportunity to escape -- she denied him the desire to -- and as he listened to her confession of wanting him, all of him, he nearly sank to his knees. Instead, his hands came to cradle her face, needing to prove that she was real, that this was real, and with a shuddery breath, he reverently stroked his thumbs along her cheeks. War had been ugly and cruel, but this, this was all things beauty and light.

What had he done to deserve any of this?

Before Benjamin could speak, he heard the chorus of young laughter and excitable chatter off in the distance, and jerking away from Anne as if he'd been burned, he drew a breath and swallowed. "Where can I see you?" he implored. It was not a matter of if, but when. "I...I need to, I just...tell me. If you meant everything you just said, then please: end my torment. I'll go anywhere..." I'll do anything, be anything for you.

"The School of Venus? I--" She turned to him and blinked, a light rouge spreading across the apples of her cheeks. Was he trying to imply something, or was her own mind so fuddled with impure thoughts that she couldn't decipher the real meaning? Ever since he had kissed her, since she'd kissed him back, Anne had struggled to focus on anything else. She'd barely managed to gather enough concentration to do her job, but, when she was left alone, her mind never left Ben.

Did you truly want to?

"Yes, I do." Was he joking? Anne had wanted nothing more than to speak with him about their problem, to clear the air in whatever way would make life bearable again. It was maddening, to be so enthralled with something she knew she couldn't have. Even when she was young and starry-eyed, she'd never felt this way about George. She had never felt such an attraction to the man she thought she'd marry, and now her heart now yearned for this strange American man. It didn't make sense, she didn't understand it. And Anne hated not understanding things.

"It might not have been frowned upon as much before..." Before his spiteful association with Sarah, she wants to say but bites her tongue. Was he really so foolish to think that any lady wouldn't fall for his charms? Was he truly so dense to think that a girl wouldn't adore him when he smiled at her?

Sarah and Anne hadn't been the closest of relations. For the handful of months that she was under Anne's charge, the two of them had gotten along well, but it was nothing like her relationship with Sarah's siblings. Sarah Pleinsworth was outspoken and brash, in all the ways a lady ought not to be, and yet its what made her interesting. She was caring and intelligent, even if she often showed her affection through teasing and mockery. Sarah would be a good wife one day, but Anne knew it wouldn't be to Ben. It couldn't be to Ben.

"I'm sure Frances and Harriet would be delighted to know they were right." She chuckled dryly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "The only one I can imagine being upset would be Lady Sarah. But," As an idea rose to her mind, Anne brightened and instinctively reached out to touch him. "Perhaps if we can find her a husband, or at least a promising suitor, it would give us the freedom to..." She gesticulated with her hands as she tried to conjure a cohesive string of words. The freedom to be together, to love one another, to act on their desires. "If we put our heads together, I'm sure we could figure something out."

It wouldn't be entirely encouraged for two tutors to wed, but it wasn't the most scandalous thing Mayfair had ever seen, either. As long as both of them remained committed to their duties as teachers, Anne couldn't see why it might be a real problem. His halfhearted courtship with Sarah did make things difficult, but nothing in her life had ever been easy and she'd stopped expecting such a thing long ago.

If she were to think about things rationally, it would be easier for them to cease contact. Anne was already a tarnished woman in the eyes of society, so a flirtatious mingling wouldn't hurt more than her heart, but Ben still had potential to marry, to be happy. And if his only reason for being hesitant was Sarah, Anne couldn't help but reason that it would only be a temporary obstacle. Once Frances turned eighteen, her position would be terminated within the Pleinsworth household and she'd be forced to move on. To another family in London, or to Wales, or Scotland, or wherever she could find a position. But, if Sarah were to marry before then, the loose ends might not tangle as easily.

"What about Mister Bridgerton? Gregory? Sarah has always fancied him, and it seems their ambitions are aligned well enough to torment you. Maybe we can figure something out to get them together, and possibly begin a courtship of their own. Besides, a union of the Bridgerton-Pleinsworth variety would be much more advantageous in the end."

I've thought about possibly returning to America. At his words, Anne's hopeful expression faltered and her brows knitted together. He had thought about leaving? Because of her? He would run away, sail across an entire ocean just to avoid the 'temptation of sin'? Was he wrong for it, though? Anne had already given in to the temptation once before and was still paying for such a sin. But she couldn't imagine Ben being anything like George. Ben was kind and sweet and considerate, and everything George could never have been.

"You would... flee the country just to avoid me?" Her voice took on a pained tone as she rescinded her hand, wrapping her arms around herself. Was he truly that scared to pursue her? That he would abandon his post, his life, just to stop himself from seeing her? The thought might've seemed romantic if her heart weren't aching to be by his side, but all she could feel was a stinging sensation in her chest.

"Why? Why does it terrify you?" She stared at him, eyes glistening as she fought to keep an even tone. He was a soldier. Surely, he'd experienced worse things than heartache during his time, so what could he possibly be scared of? Though, if she was being honest, being with him terrified her, too. But for entirely different reasons.

The idea of planting roots in a place she might not be allowed to stay in scared her. When her time at the Pleinsworth home ended, there was no promise that she'd even stay in England, and there was a high likelihood that she would be forced to be apart from Ben down the road. The thought that settling down would only make it easier for George to find her frightened her to no end. And if she was willing to put Ben in danger just to quell her own selfishness and her own desires, was she even worthy of his heart in the first place? When she opened her mouth tot speak again, her voice was low and wavering. "What are you scared of, Ben? That I might hurt you? Or is it that you're afraid I might love you back?"

Tell me to go, Anne.

"No." Bewildered, she stared at him, unblinking as she searched his countenance for any sign of nuance. "No. I can't. I won't. I want you too, Ben. All of you. More than I have ever wanted anyone, anything in my entire life and... Just saying that aloud is wholly frightening, but I... I do not wish to lose you. The fact that I have not already lost you for the foolish things I've said is a blessing I do not dare throw away. I could not bear to send you away. My heart could not bear it."

Stepping forward, Anne closed the distance between them. She didn't lean up to kiss him, despite how much her body wanted to. She didn't reach out to take his hands, even though she wanted desperately to feel his touch. She just looked up at him, into those eyes that she'd willingly drown in a thousand times over, and whispered. "So, please, don't go."

[riotwritesthings]

The New Game

WinterIron, T, ficlet - established relationship, fluff, humor, avengers game night

Another spite request! This time for @monobuu​, who requested “no longer allowed to be on the same team during trivia/game night” and uhhhh I hope you wanted something incredibly silly haha

If you're curious to know why I'm doing this or how to get a drabble of your own, come on over to my tumblr or hit me up on discord (riotsongs#3153)!

-

“Discrimination!”

“No, it’s called being reasonable-“

“Homophobia!”

“Oh my god,” Sam groans, turning his back on them, and Tony is counting that as one more person he’s worn down.

Beside him Bucky nods seriously. “They hate us because we’re in love.”

“Or,” Steve says, jumping in again and dammit apparently he hasn’t tapped out of this argument, “it’s because every single time we let you two be on a team our game night ends up going horribly off the rails.”

“Name one time,” Tony says, mostly for the way it looks like actual steam is about to come out of Steve’s ears.

“How about last week? When Twister quickly turned into you two making out.”

“On top of me,” Sam interjects, looking nauseous all over again, and Tony blows him a kiss.

“Why were we even playing Twister?” Bruce asks from his spot tucked into the corner of the couch, safe from angrily flailing limbs.

“It was Clint’s idea,” Natasha chimes in, “not sure why anyone agreed to it, though.”

“More importantly,” Tony interrupts, “we weren’t even on a team, that doesn’t count as an example.”

Steve appears to be grinding his teeth now, but Tony is right and he knows it, so after another second he grits out, “Trivia night.”

“Don’t even say those words, I’m gonna have war flashbacks,” Clint says, pretending to yank out his hearing aids.

Tony has to admit that one is a good point, he and Bucky destroyed everyone else during trivia night. But Tony’s thinking his new favorite game-night game might be annoying everyone, so he just grins and says, “Okay, but name three more examples.”

Steve makes a strangled sound and Tony grins wider. Beside him Bucky shakes with barely repressed laughter.

“What about charades?” Sam demands, “you were cheating.”

“And back to hating us because we’re in love,” Tony says with a sigh.

“Monopoly,” Bruce says, one eyebrow raised, and Tony nods because that’s fair. Their secret alliance hadn’t been nearly as secret as they intended.

“When Thor talked us into trying that murder mystery game?” Natasha asks and Bucky has to raise a hand to his mouth in an attempt to muffle his laughter, ducking his head so his hair hides his red face.

Tony isn’t doing much better, his chest almost hurts with the effort of holding in his amusement and it takes a couple false starts before he can actually speak without completely cracking up. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You were the investigator, Tony!” Steve nearly shrieks.

“So?”

“So when you figured out Bucky was the murderer you were supposed to end the game, not start helping him.”

“Well what kind of husband would I be if I did that?” Tony demands and beside him Bucky hunches over as he finally breaks out into wild laughter.

“You’re not even married?” Natasha jumps in, and if Tony’s not mistaken she’s now fighting down a smile of her own.

“And we never will be if I arrest him!”

Bucky snorts into his knees while Steve makes a couple more angry sounds, and Tony grins proudly.

“Can’t we just play Mario Kart again?” Bruce asks plaintively.

“I can’t believe you’d even suggest that, lives were almost lost,” Clint says, jumping to his feet, and Tony rubs Bucky’s back when he snorts again.

[angst-fairygodmother]

Could you maybe write soneting where the reader and Lambert are together at Kaer Morhen, they are together and the reader helps out Ciri a lot. But the reader is later wounded when the Voleth Meir posesses Ciri? 🌚✨🗡

A/N: I sort of skipped the first bit, because a little Lambert/Reader hurt/comfort felt right, here. I hope you enjoy! Word Count: 1783 Rating: T - canon typical language, canon typical violence, The Witcher season 2 spoilers, descriptions of pain/injuries, innuendo and implication

“Y/N, what are you doing?!” Lambert hissed, even that sound seeming to boom in the eerie empty halls of the witchers' keep.

He grabbed your wrist as you tried to push your way past him, refusing to simply sit in the room you shared and do nothing while he and his brothers risked their lives. The hold was gentle, easy enough to yank out of while you glared at the big redhead.

“Going to Ciri,” you snapped as if it were obvious (and it should have been). “She needs me, needs us.”

“Are you mad woman?! She would have slit all our throats as we slept if she hadn't been interrupted.”

“You said yourself that that thing isn't her. Except the part that is,” you sighed and ran your hands over your face. “We don't have time for this. You know how close she and I have become, closer than anyone else here. If Geralt can't get through to her, can't help her break whatever's doing this, maybe I can.”

“You could get hurt,” he said, voice plaintive and almost broken. “You could be killed.”

“So could you. Every time you go off to fight a monster, just like now. Have I ever tried to stop you?”

“Well no but...I'm a witcher. That's my job.”

You reached up to cup his bearded cheek in one hand, smiling fondly as he leaned into your palm. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, like he was memorizing your smell or looking for something in it before exhaling in a sigh.

“Please Lambert. I need you to trust me.”

“I do trust you, Y/N. It's her I don't. And me, if something ever happened to you.”

You stood on your tiptoes, the height difference still meaning you were barely eye to eye. You leaned in, feeling the way the coarse hairs scratched familiarly against your own face. His breath ghosted over you, a strange comforting feeling before your lips pressed together. Your hand slid back along his jaw, tangling into the long locks at his temple and his clung to your hips, holding you against him like his life, or yours, depended on it.

“I'll be okay,” you promised. “How can I not be, when I know you'll be watching my backside the whole time.” You winked, drawing out that deep, blessed laugh that you loved so much.

“Damn right,” he growled playfully. “And when this is over, I'll be dragging it back here and keeping it in bed with me for a week.”

“Only a week?”

“Oh it'll be longer if you let me.”

“Well then, I suppose we had better go find Ciri and settle this, yeah?”

He hesitated, reminded of the reality of the situation outside your teasing, of how momentarily terrifying the little girl had been when he caught a glimpse of her fleeing. You gave his hand a comforting squeeze and he nodded solemnly, words lost in his throat. And then you were gone, slipping through his grasp like smoke as you headed for the Great Hall and Ciri and he made for the armory and his brothers.

~

It was easy to lose track when your home, a place that should have been impenetrably safe, exploded into a battlefield. Even easier was losing hope as you watched a child you had come to care for slaughter the people you'd grown up beside, known all your life. Add being battered by a basilisk like a cat with a toy mouse, and no one could blame Lambert for not being at his best. Except Lambert.

Y/N approached Ciri, hands held out to her, inviting her to take them. She called Ciri's name, voice somehow carrying over the noise of the fight and the cyclone that was building up around the younger girl. Everything seemed to stop as the eerie, unnatural green eyes considered her. A chill certainty washed over him that the thing that had taken over the girl was wholly evil, and had fixed it's intent on his lover. He turned his sword away from the monsters and toward her, determined to reach her or die trying.

~

“Ciri,” you spoke softly, calling to the princess. “Sweetheart, can you hear me? Let me help you.”

“Help me?” The voice that wasn't hers echoed through the room and your mind followed by a cruel laugh that twisted your stomach. “How could you help me? I have more power than you could ever dream.”

“You're right. But that doesn't mean you can, or should, do everything alone. Ciri knows that, and even when she's stubborn, she relies on her friends, her family.”

“That's what made her weak.”

“No. We made each other strong.”

You took a step closer, unwavering despite the hatred you could feel rolling off the girl like a physical force.

“Ciri, I know you're in there. And whatever she's doing, it can't be good. But you have to fight. Be strong.”

Suddenly, the unnatural green eyes narrowed and something grabbed you by the throat, invisible claws digging into flesh as it squeezed.

“I am going to enjoy destroying you.” The voice reverberated. “Your pain will make so much more.”

Your feet lifted from the floor as you struggled helplessly. And then the room was rushing past faster than you could process, before you slammed into something solid and blackness overtook you, too quickly to feel any pain.

~

Someone was screaming...no roaring. Like a wounded bear. It didn't even register to the redheaded witcher that it was him as he launched into a second rage, on top of the one caused by the elixirs, and cut through Ciri's monsters like they were bags of straw.

He wanted to get to the girl, to make her suffer, no matter what affection he, or you, had felt for her before. But Geralt and Vesimir and more basilisks stood in his way. He felt trapped and helpless, feelings he hadn't since he was a boy, and his vision seemed to narrow.

No longer registering the dangers in the room, he ran to Y/N's side, cradling her limp body against his chest.

“Wake up, damn fool woman,” he growled, trying to bury pain in anger. “Why the fuck did you put yourself in danger like that?”

He was still holding his love close, shielding her with his body and listening carefully to her unsteady heart and labored breathing when Vesimir placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Take her to the infirmary, we cannot help her here,” his mentor said softly, tiredly.

“Can you help her at all?” He asked in return, not daring yet to move.

“I don't know.”

~

When you woke, you were staring up at a ceiling that told you nothing about where you were. Rough wool scratched at the underside of your arms where they rested beside you and there was a heavy weight pulling at one side of the material, stretching it tight across your lap.

You groaned weakly, body aching in so many ways that it was impossible to identify one or trace and pinpoint them. Suddenly the tension released, making the blanket snap back into a rumple that barely covered your legs.

“Y/N! You're awake!” Lambert shouted, shooting up into a seated position beside you, his volume making you wince as your head throbbed.

“Unfortunately,” you grumbled.

A split second later the air was knocked painfully out of your lungs as he crushed you into a hug. His face pressed into your neck and you were shocked to realize that it was damp. Grimacing, you did your best to return the hug, running a comforting hand across his shoulders.

“Dammit woman, you scared me,” he murmured, only audible because of his proximity to your ear.

Before you could answer and apologize, another voice cut through.

“Oi! Lambchop! Suffocating the girl isn't a good way to make her rest,” Coen teased as he approached.

Lambert leapt back from you, face as sheepish as a kid caught stealing cookies from the baking tray. You smiled softly at him before Coen's hand clapped down on his shoulder.

“I don't know what you've done to this off Y/N, but he hasn't left your side since the battle. How are you feeling?”

You felt your cheeks warm in a furious blush under the sudden, intent focus the two men turned on you.

“Honestly, awful,” you answered with a rueful chuckle that became a cough. “But I'm alive apparently, which is better than I thought the result would be, in the moment I had to think.”

Coen laughed, while Lambert scowled with worry.

“Well I'll let the others know, and leave you two lovebirds alone,” he paused, glancing around at what you assumed were other beds with injured witchers in them, and shrugged. “Alone-ish.”

He threw you a wink as he turned and strolled away again, and you tried to cover your heated face with your hands. A silence settled over you and Lambert as he seemed to study the threads of your blanket.

“Hey,” you said softly, reaching out to cradle his cheek in one hand, forcing yourself into a semi-seated position in the process. “Lambert, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” He frowned, even as he leaned into your touch.

“I should have listened to you. I didn’t stand a chance, and I…I hurt you by getting hurt.”

He laughed, the sound warming your heart even though it seemed out of place here and now.

“Only you,” he shook his head. “Would almost die and be worried about me.”

“Well…of course. I love you.”

“You what?”

Blood rushed in your ears and you felt dizzy. You couldn’t be sure whether it was the after-effects of your injury or the words that had slipped out of you so naturally. You closed your eyes to steady yourself.

“I love you Lambert.”

He brushed a soft kiss against your lips, the corners of his mouth turned up in a smile. He gently cradled your head in one of his hands, the other supporting his weight so that he didn’t hurt you. You looped your arms around his neck, trying to hold him close as he drew away with a groan.

“I love you too, you mad infuriating woman,” he said with a smirk. “And gods damn it all, if you weren’t still hurt, I’d show you just how much.”

You smiled back at him, teasingly. “I’m sure I can find a way to make it up to you later.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Y/N. But for now, rest.”

“Will you stay with me?” you meant it as a joke, but he nodded, gaze intense.

“I wouldn’t dream of going anywhere else.”

[maddyteller]

Double Mindedness - The Last Part.

Druig x fem!reader

Warning : Still no tw here. Slight verbal degradation. Y/N's powers are similar to Wanda's. A little development for this last part ! Fluff.

Summary : Goodbyes are always difficult. But spending the rest of your life with your love warns your heart.

Note : English is not my first language and I still make any mistakes. I write on English for practice so please bear with me ! Don't hesitate to correct me and enjoy (:

Iles Malouine - Present Day

Thena and I stand before the spectacle before us, a volcano erupting, heralding the birth of the Celestial Tiamut. For centuries I have had time to watch thousands of volcanoes erupt in anger, I have seen them take lives, burn beautiful fields of flowers... But today everything sounds different. "I should be with the others, outside." My gaze falls on Thena, who is standing next to me.

"I need you here. When Ikaris sees us, he's going straight to the ship. We need to keep him occupied while Druig puts the Celestial to sleep. And I need your help. Beating him physically is good, but beating him mentally is even better." I sigh, she's not really wrong. But will I be able to touch him deeply enough? Do I really want to hurt him... despite what he may have done ? "I don't have the power to read your mind. But I know you well enough Y/N... if we don't stop him, he will kill us all. And Druig will be the first on his kill list." Ouch... Thena is pressing on some sore spots, on the sore spot, but again, she's not wrong.

A tremor forces us to turn around, facing us, Ikaris. I step aside from Thena, trying to be discreet and silent. I don't have the skills to fight like a goddess. "I never wanted to fight you Thena. But you leave me no choice." "Oh... if you knew how much I've been waiting for this day to come." Without waiting another second, she throws herself at him. Her grace will always impress me so much. She's gorgeous and even more so when she's fighting.

I won't be able to stay hidden for long, so I close my eyes. I slip between the two and take Ikaris in my arms. In just a few moments I make him feel such mental and physical pain that he falls into my arms, plaintive cries resound in the room. "He suffers..." "That's what it takes Y/N ! Don't let go !" I let one of my hands caress Ikaris' head, this is going way too far for me. "I'm sorry... so sorry."

"I must join the others. Don't let Ikaris leave here, is that clear?" I nod. I know the responsibility I have. But I also know how horrible the pain he feels is, because I feel it with him. A double-edged gift. "Shh... I..." I take a counter-breath and, ever so slowly, make him feel a much weaker pain. Big mistake on my part. I find myself propelled to the other end of the room. My head hits the floor hard.

"You should never have agreed to follow us. You are far too weak to take on the role of the saviour. You were always the weakest. Always the one who was never any use... for anything." The weight of words is always more painful than a fist to the face. I can't find the courage to stand up. Always the one who was never any use... for anything. This sentence is running on a loop in my head. But it's not the only one I can think of. Druig will be the first on his kill list.

I stand up with difficulty, I get out of the ship and the scene before me is worthy of an apocalyptic film. I rush towards Sersi, lying on the ground, a ground that is no longer very stable because the Earth is ripping apart under our feet. "Sersi... What happened? Where is Druig?" I see in her eyes a certain pity, she shakes her head and I quickly understand what just happened. I try to connect my mind and my love's. But nothing.

"Y/N... there's no question of putting Tiamut to sleep anymore... it... will have to be stopped. But I'm not going to do it by myself, it's not possible." I helped my friend to get up. "It's you Sersi. You'll have to stop Tiamut. You will need the strength of others. But not me." I remove the bracelet Phastos created that connects us, and break it. "Y/N what are you doing?!" "Trust me."

Without wasting any time, Sersi connects to all our friends. Even Sprite. Only Ikaris and I are not caught up in this energy. When I see him charging at Sersi to stop her, I smile. "Oh no... you're not going to do anything." I puff out my chest, eyes closed, palms facing the sky, I concentrate. I create an unbreakable energy shield around my friends. Preventing Ikaris from doing anything.

"Y/N. Stop. You can't do anything to me." I open my eyes, a sad smile etched on my face. I walk over to him. "You took everything from me. Ajak. Gilgamesh. Druig. You will pay for this." Ready to fight him body and soul, even if it means losing, dying. I'm about to strike the first blow when I feel myself levitating in the air. My feet do not touch the ground. He looks as surprised as I am. I don't understand what's going on. My body starts to glow with golden energy. My hands burn. It's as if all the energy is being absorbed by my hands.

In only two seconds I find myself on the ground, an icy ground. It even looks like a glacier, but it is none other than Tiamut's hand. Sersi has done it. "Y/N what was that? Look at your hands..." Looking at them I see them controlling a yellow coloured energy. I slowly moved my fingers, impressed. I sit up, trying to see if everyone is okay. Thena, Phastos, Makkari, Sprite... Druig? I turn back to Ikaris, with the energy I've just built up I make him kneel before me.

"You always thought I was the weakest of us all. You always underestimated me. I've always been... there for you. I've always supported you! The only one who listens to you cry! Put up with your snide remarks! You took my time, my energy, you took the love of my life... how do you expect me to let you live..." Anger blinds me. I hear Thena calling me. Asking me to calm down. I'm not like that, but I can't shut out all the emotions boiling inside me.

My tears flow freely against my cheeks. Nothing can stop me at this moment, if I have to die to annihilate him I will pay the price. However, a strong headache suddenly comes over me, making me let go. Leaving Ikaris the opportunity to run away. Which he does, heading towards the sky without even a backward glance. "Y/N. Y/N. On your left beautiful..." I turn my head and see, on this beautiful beach with a sunset, Druig. I ran to him, throwing myself into his arms.

Holding him so tightly to me, afraid that all this is not true. Perhaps an illusion. "I thought I'd never see you again, I thought..." My tears don't stop flowing, I feel his fingers sliding down my cheeks, pressing his forehead against mine. "I told you I would never leave you alone again. I'm not one to break promises." I place a light kiss against his lips as if to thank him for surviving all these trials. "We're going home now."

Dakota du Sud - Three Day After

"What are you going to do now?" "I think we're going to stay here... I don't really want to leave Ajak's house to rot. Then go back to Australia without Gilgamesh..." Phastos puts a comforting hand on my shoulder, Thena, on the other hand, nods, regarding my decision. "I wasn't planning on going back either. I think there are more urgent things to do right now. We're not the only Eternals in the universe and we need to warn them."

Makkari nods. "I agree. I'll come with you." Sersi sits down next to me, much more smiling than she was a few days ago. "Hm. Druig and Y/N here. Thena and Makkari are going to conquer the universe. Phastos with his beautiful family... No more news from Sprite or Kingo..." "You are not going to be alone, Sersi. Stay with us." I glance at Druig who is definitely not following the conversation, busy eating. "I'm not alone. We'll say someone is waiting for me in London."

On the landing, I hugged my friends, not for the last time. "You'll let us know what you find up there. Will you? I want to hear from you. At least once a week. Promise?" Thena nods. I turn back to Phastos. "If you need a babysitter, you can count on me. You know I'm the only one who can watch Jack." "That's right... let us both hear from you." "We will." Druig hugs Phastos, an image that melts my heart. "Sersi... you come to us whenever you want. And we'll come and see you in London too, I promise. Don't worry about Sprite, she'll come back eventually, we just need to give her some... time."

We hug each other. I watch my friends go their separate ways. With tears in my eyes I try my best not to cry. I feel Druig's arms around my waist, placing multiple kisses against my neck. "Would you be sad to spend the rest of your life with me?" "What...? No, of course not. I just don't like goodbyes..." "This isn't goodbye it's, see you soon." I turn around, smiling, caressing his cheeks with my fingertips.

"I love you my beautiful, beautiful Y/N."

This is the end of the little story. I really enjoyed writing and making it ! I fell in love with the Eternals and Druig. This is my first time writing so it's not perfect but it was great to do ! I'll probably do an extra part with smut so if you have any special wishes don't hesitate. I hope you enjoy it. 🦋🤍

[crazyracooneatsyourbrain]

Ghost for Christmas

Ok, this chapter was very short, but the next one (I promise) will be longer. I've finally brought Danny into the story, and now you're in for some epic "fun"!

I just want to advise you to read this story to the song of my favorite band "Rammstein - Klavier". It is very good as a musical accompaniment, believe me.

Chapter Two: Call

No... No. NO! It couldn't be, it just couldn't be. Right, it was just someone's stupid joke, nothing more. How else to explain what is happening now? Y/N felt her breathing quicken, and her heart in her chest was beating so fast and booming that she was afraid that the intruder would hear this knock. There was a silence, so tense that it made the hair on her arms electrify. From the phone came the sound of breathing - heavy and restless.

- Why are you silent sweet? - in the end he asked and made the girl shudder. - Did I offend you in some way?

- It can't be you. - Coldly she interrupted him, which caused hysterical laughter from the one who spoke to her.

- But it's me, honey, me. - He announced, and this made the soul so disgusting that the girl suddenly wanted to wash. - Why are you so upset? Don't you want to see me? Then why did you get me out of that box? There were so many things, but you chose me. Why? You yourself know why. Because all your childhood you dreamed that I would be with you, be alive. I was good, wasn't I? I kept all your secrets - when you skipped school, when you first started your period. I knew all this, and I still remember. But you forgot about me. Are you a good friend after that? I was so lonely without you. I missed you so much, and when you took me out of that old box, I felt so happy! You made me so happy! The way you stroked my head, the way you looked at me, as if I was the most important thing that you have ... I always felt so good with you. And then, you just left me. Threw it almost in the trash! Why? For what? It hurted me. YOU hurted me.

The girl listened in silence, and with every second she was more and more convinced that she was not herself. She drank more than one glass of champagne yesterday, and now her own brain is deceiving her, distorting reality. What is happening is not real. This is her sick invention. Stepping back, she felt the cold refrigerator door on her back. A soft, plaintive sob escaped from her mouth.

- Enough! - Finding the strength to say it without hesitation, Y/N grabbed a kitchen hammer from the stand, preparing herself if she had to fight back. - Now, this has crossed all boundaries. Come out. Come out now!

There was a sad laugh. The anguish in his tone was obvious, he didn't even try to hide it.

- Here you see? Even now, you want to play with me and then get rid of me. Now it's not just hiding in a box.

"You're right," - she thought, looking around. "I'll blow your brains out if I get the chance."

- But I can get ahead of you, - he said suddenly, and goosebumps ran down the girl’s back. - I could play with you and then get rid of you. But will I do it? Of course not! You were and always will be my favorite owner. You just need to remember how much fun we had together, and I will gladly remind you.

From his words, the girl felt how all the blood at once cooled in the veins, and hot breath scorched her ear from the back.

- Oh darling! We will have so much fun together!

[evilmuffinlord]

The Density of Acid 4- After School Analysis

With Midoriya's feelings out in the open, Mina struggles to understand how she could have missed something so major

Read it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29496132/chapters/87323248

Or on FF.Net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13821747/4/The-Density-of-Acid

Teaser below cut;

Midoriya had a crush on her.

Mina’s brain refused to process that fact, no matter how many times she repeated it to herself. It was just so out of left field that she couldn’t believe it. Yet, somehow, it sounded so right that she had to believe it, especially when he had been staring at her with a terrified earnestness that was impossible to mistake. 

It had also made her panic. What could she say, when her friend confessed to her out of the blue with a face like that? The last thing she wanted to do was hurt him, but she also had no idea what to do, and in her panic she had said that  “she’d like to, but would have to think about it.” He’d taken it surprisingly well, not looking completely crushed by the cliched line, but Mina still cringed whenever she thought about it.

She risked a glance over at the boy in question, trying to be as subtle as she possibly could. He was trudging along on the opposite side of Tokoyami and Jirou as they made their way back to the observation room, about as far away from Mina as he could get. Apparently that wasn’t changing anytime soon, though she at least understood why he couldn’t stand next to her. He liked her so much that even brushing up against her made him blush, which was crazy to her.

How had she missed this? She was the guru of love, the mistress of romance! She could spot a potential pairing at  twenty meters and help them along the way to a proper relationship with ease! She’d done it a dozen times, after all. How could she miss a boy crushing on her? Especially since it seemed to have been going on for quite some time, if what she suspected about Uraraka and the other's comments in the locker room were true.

It also made her wonder what else she had missed. Were there other relationships going on that she was looking straight past, in her class or otherwise? Between Midoriya and Uraraka, she had missed at least two so far, and it was honestly a little soul crushing to discover. She’d prided herself on her skill for so long. Realizing it was just luck and guesswork was a real blow to her ego.

With a start, Mina realized Midoriya and Jirou were talking and, more importantly, Jirou had just said Mina’s name. Abandoning her previous thoughts, Mina tuned into the conversation so that she didn’t miss anything relevant.

“—really, really sorry!” Midoriya said plaintively.

“You should be,” Jirou replied in an exasperated tone. “I got a cramp in my arm because you two couldn’t stop flirting long enough to untie me! Do you have any idea how many times I called your name before you finally remembered I was there?”

“We weren’t flirting!” Midoriya practically shouted.

“You literally asked her out on top of me. You were absolutely flirting, and nobody could have possibly missed it. Right Mina?”

Mina felt her cheeks heat up at that. She was used to being the one doing the teasing, not being the target of it. Even if she might have deserved it in this case. She really had forgotten Jirou and Tokoyami were there in the excitement and confusion after the battle, which made everything twice as embarrassing. Her only consolation was that those two were probably the only ones who had been listening in. Aizawa usually muted the microphones between matches so he didn’t have to listen to anyone celebrating their victory.

“C-can we just forget about what happened?” Midoriya asked plaintively.

“Perhaps that would be for the best,” Tokoyami said. “To allow dark words to cross one’s lips is the first step towards darkness.”

“I thought you were pro-darkness,” Jirou said.

“I am a proponent of the gentle dark, yes. Not so the false darkness of rumor that obscures the light of decency.”

“I’ve listened to death metal bands that were less emo than you.”

Tokoyami looked extremely pleased to hear that, even if he tried to disguise his preening as scratching an itch.

He and Jirou continued to banter the rest of the way back to the observation room, soothing their nerves from the battle. After this long in the hero program, they were all used to losing a match or two and didn’t take it too seriously. Even still, coming down from the post-battle adrenaline took a while and they had all come up with ways to deal with it. 

Mina liked to chat with her friends, trading jokes or friendly banter. She and Jirou often verbally sparred with each other, since Jirou liked to snark at people and Mina was more than capable of clapping back with the best of them.

But not today. Not when she was feeling so emotionally mixed up and drained. Today she just wanted to get done with class, get some snacks, and veg out at home in front of her favorite show for a while. Maybe after that she’d start feeling like a real person again. 

She reached the observation room first, and stepped inside to a round of applause. Kirishima was the loudest, shooting her a big smile and a thumbs up between claps. The others were less enthusiastic, but no less sincere. 

Mina did her best to respond in kind, but she must not have done a very good job since several people looked at her with concern.

"Is everything alright?" Yaoyorozu asked. "You seem a little out of sorts."

"Pssssh, totally fine!" Mina deflected. "Nothing weird happened at all."

"T-that's right!" Midoriya said quickly.

"Mmmmmhmmm," Jirou hummed noncommittally. 

"Naught worth speaking of has occurred."

"Midoriya asked Ashido out!" Dark Shadow gleefully cried, emerging from Tokoyami's cloak for the first time since the match ended.

There was a beat where no one said anything, just stared openly at Mina and Midoriya. Her cheeks were absolutely burning, and she could hear the high-pitched whine that Midoriya made when he was especially embarrassed.

The silence was broken by the last person Mina would have expected. Aizawa let out a long suffering sigh and rubbed at his temples.

“And there’s the disruption. I knew this was going too smoothly…”

His words opened the floodgates, and suddenly everyone was rushing forward to congratulate the two of them or to tease Midoriya for his timing. It was impossibly embarrassing, but Mina did her best to endure it without looking too upset. Thankfully Aizawa cut them off before too much longer, but it was still an ordeal and a half.

And Mina got the feeling that it wasn’t over. She could feel several pairs of eyes fixed on her, waiting to hear the full story from her perspective. The girls were hungry for a story, and Mina couldn’t quite blame them. In different circumstances, she would absolutely be part of that group, planning how best to ambush the new couple and pry secrets out of them.

She just hoped the other girls would be gentle with her.

[novemberhush]

Say Goodbye Like You Mean It

@sterekdrabblesgonelong For the prompt words detect, foolish, second (7/7/21).Title from the Bleachers song Stop Making This Hurt. Many thanks to @jmeelee for the beta read. She made this fic better, much like she does my life in general. ❤️

Nursing second thoughts and his third tub of ice cream in as many hours, plaintive music drifting softly through the air, Derek was so distracted contemplating how foolish he’d been to let Kate mess with his head again that he didn’t even hear Stiles’ arrival until the door burst open and his now ex-boyfriend barged in.

“Okay,” Stiles declared, forgoing the usual greetings and in a tone that brooked no argument, eyes blazing, arms gesticulating wildly in Derek’s general direction. “So I can’t detect lies like you can, through heartbeats and chemosignals or whatever, but I know you, and I know you weren’t lying when you said you loved me. You were lying when you said you didn’t. This wallowing you’re doing just confirms it.”

“M’not wallowing,” Derek protested around a mouthful of rapidly melting ice cream, hand clenching around the spoon currently frozen in mid-air, halfway back to the tub for the next mouthful, but even he could hear how half-hearted it sounded.

“Dude, you’re eating your body weight in Chunky Monkey and listening to It Must Have Been Love on repeat!”

“It’s Cherry Garcia,” Derek mumbled.

“Whatever! She got to you again and made you do something stupid and now you’re wallowing instead of doing something about it!” Stiles snapped.

Derek shrank further back into the couch, trying to make himself smaller, spoon finding its way back to the tub and sinking into what little ice cream remained in it, as his head dropped to stare at the floor by Stiles’ sneakers-clad feet. He curled in on himself as if retreating from the world could protect him from all the pain it seemed to enjoy inflicting on him, but he knew it didn’t work that way. Life had proven it to him over and over again.

Through a combination of being always observant with those ever watchful eyes of his and just knowing Derek too damn well, Stiles sighed then, causing Derek to look up in time to see him visibly deflate, all the anger draining out of him. Tone softer, he continued, “Look, I don’t know exactly what she said to you, but I can guess, and she’s wrong. There’s no universe where I’m better off without you.”

“No?”

“No. So can we please forget all this breaking up nonsense and get to the making up part already?”

“You’d be safer staying away from me,” Derek, ever the masochist, persisted.

“Nope. I’ve got your back and you’ve got mine. We’re stronger together. Kate Argent knows that and that’s why she’s trying to plant doubts in your head. She wants us apart. But that’s not gonna happen. I’m not gonna let it, and neither are you. You’re stuck with me, big guy. So get used to it. Now, what’s a guy gotta do around here to get in on this Chunky Monkey action?”

“I told you,” Derek said, fighting back a smile, “it’s Cherry Garcia.”

“No Chunky Monkey? See, that just proves you need me around, to make sure your freezer’s always stocked with the good stuff, if nothing else.”

“Oh, I can think of one or two other reasons to keep you around…” Derek purred, setting his ice cream aside before reaching out a hand to draw Stiles closer, pulling him down to straddle Derek’s lap.

“So, does this mean we’re back together then?” Stiles asked with a twinkle in his eye and a teasing grin making its way across his face as his arms wrapped around Derek’s neck.

“Uh-huh.” Derek’s voice was muffled as he nosed at Stiles’ jaw before nuzzling his neck, lips dragging across the delicate skin there in a series of tender kisses that sent waves of heat cascading through both of them.

“Good,” Stiles replied breathlessly, “because I’ve heard makeup sex is some of the best there is and I’m eager to find out if that’s true. But, Derek…” He gently took Derek’s face in his hands, turning it to look him straight in the eye. “Let’s never break up again, okay?”

“Okay,” Derek pledged in earnest.

No promise had ever come easier to him and it was one he kept until his dying day (many, many, many years in the future).

[snowywrites]

Yuri x popular Fem!reader

summary: fluffy fic in which the reader sees Yuri while working at a coffee shop and intends to be closer friends with her.

word count: 2.1k

"Y/N!"

You stop in your tracks, turning to scan the tables around you for the source of the voice; it was kind of familiar, and your eyes fall on a customer that's a regular here at the coffee shop. A young man around your age, usually here with his friends but alone today.

You had been about to go make another coffee for a different customer, but you force a service smile onto your face and hurry over to his table. "Hello!" You wrack your brain for a second to bring a name to this man- it wasn't easy keeping track of so many different people, and not just at your job! You also tried to keep tabs on the majority of your peers from school, too. Fortunately, it clicks a moment later. "Hatsumi, was everything alright?" You ask, noting he's already finished his pastry and drink.

Hatsumi grins, clearly pleased you had remembered him. Customers tended to get really happy over little things like that... if only they knew you did this with all of them. It was no secret you were one of the favorites here at the little shop, consistently getting better tips than many of your coworkers. "It was great!" He answers you brightly.

You nod and inquire politely, "Would you like me to go ahead and bring the bill out now?"

A moment of hesitation, and then, "Oh- uh, yes, thanks." He seems a bit disappointed, but you don't have time to dwell on it right now, not with how busy today's rush hour is. The only good thing is you're hopefully going to be getting off in about a half hour.

You assure him you'll be right back and then flit off to the counter to ring up the items he'd ordered and print the bill. As you're doing so, you feel a tap on your shoulder.

Glancing up, you see your favorite coworker, a girl several years older than you. "Y/N," she begins, a bit of a pleading look in her eyes that means she's about to ask you for a favor.

Biting back a sigh, you push down whatever annoyance you have at being interrupted to look expectantly at her. "What's up?"

"Can we please switch tables really quickly?" She practically begs you.

Switching tables wasn't too terribly uncommon- sometimes when guests came in, the baristas would know them outside of work and might ask a coworker to deal with the order and anything else.

"Sure," you giggle, ever the people-pleaser. You had a reputation to keep, after all! You don't like to brag, but you do enjoy the fact that you have many different friends and are well-liked by just about everyone you know. "Who?"

She gives a hop of delight. "Can I take the bill to Hatsumi?"

You can't help but smirk mischievously. "Ohhhhh, I see."

She lightly smacks you on the arm, instantly blushing. "Nono, I just-"

You cut her off before she can defend herself, knowing the two of you don't really have the time to waste playing around. "It's no worries. And who's that order for?" You question as you point at the circular silver tray in her hands which is holding a cute polka-dotted cup of tea.

"Ah, this goes to table three, the girl with the purple hair."

You nod, exchanging the bill for the tray. You want to watch and see what will happen between your friend and Hatsumi, if anything, but when you look towards the designated table, already heading for it, you realize you recognize the girl sitting there.

You have no trouble recalling her name. One of the members of your Literature Club, Yuri...

You haven't actually been in the club all that long at all, maybe a week-ish, and you feel like you haven't had any time at all to get properly acquainted with Yuri. Part of you feels that it's a shame, because you get the sense she's a very interesting and sweet person beneath her quiet and distant shell. It's just hard when she's always reading, and even in the rare moments she's not, she doubts herself so much during conversations with you that it just ends up being a bit weird.

But not today! No, you're suddenly filled with a sense of determination to get closer to Yuri.

You consider playfully scaring her when you walk up, but ultimately decide against it; aside from being naturally timid anyway, she's also, as usual, reading, and doesn't seem aware of anything going on in the shop around her. So, yeah, best to use a more gentle approach.

"Hey, you," you say, putting all the friendliness in your voice as possible, stopping beside the table to greet her.

In spite of everything, Yuri still jumps a bit in her seat, violet gaze flashing up to you in alarm.

'So much for trying not to scare her,' you think unhappily. Pushing that thought away, you give her a reassuring smile. "Sorry, it's just me! Y/N. We're in the Literature Club together," you try to remind her, wondering with a pang of horror if she's actually forgotten who you are. That would be a first for you.

A second of silence, but at last Yuri's tense grip on her book loosens, and she glances down at it, avoiding making eye contact. "O-Oh, I'm sorry."

Another awkward beat of silence. This was what you meant!! It always went like this with Yuri, and you wished more than anything that you knew how to make her more comfortable around you. Hoping to carry the burden of saving this interaction, you laugh nervously, "It's no worries! But, you didn't forget me, did you?" As much as you're just trying to joke around, there really is a slight feeling of hurt that that may very well have been the case.

Yuri stiffens, quickly answering, "No, I- I didn't!" It's a rushed response, louder than you've ever heard her speak and yet still quieter than most people's normal speaking voice. As if embarrassed by her small outburst, she ducks her head to add quietly, "Uhm, that is- I just meant that... I wouldn't ever forget you, Y/N."

Oh. Talk about giving someone butterflies. You never knew what to expect with Yuri- sometimes she could never get her words out, but then other times she'd say something with such a deep meaning that it would catch you entirely off guard. What's odd though is you know for a fact how truly sincere she is; Yuri is the type of person that's much deeper than most people, and she wouldn't say something if she didn't really think or believe it.

"Thank you, Yuri," you say warmly, setting her tea down near her on the table. "Here you go! I like this kind, too." Truthfully, since you hadn't taken the order yourself or even made the drink, you weren't 100% sure what kind of tea this was, but you were willing to try anything to make Yuri more at ease. It also wasn't unheard of for you to make conversation with customers, even if it was busier than usual right now- for once though, you weren't aiming to make a good tip or secure a regular customer. You genuinely wanted to talk with her. "Hey, is that the same book you're reading at the club?" You question after catching a glimpse of the cover art.

She shakes her head, causing some of her bangs to fall into her face. Brushing them out of the way, she frowns and then nods. "W-Well, kind of. I finished that one yesterday... this is the sequel," she explains.

"It must be pretty good if you want to read the next part already," you comment. "What's it about?"

As predicted, Yuri noticeably perks up. "Oh, I think you would really enjoy it, Y/N. It's about-"

"Y/N!"

You flinch at the stern voice of your shift supervisor, who apparently hadn't realized Yuri was speaking when he cut her off.

You glance back to see him gesturing at you in clear annoyance, motioning to the line of guests waiting for their drinks to be made. You nod, signaling you'll be right over.

Focusing back on Yuri, you're unable to mask your disappointment. "I'm sorry, I've gotta get back to work. I'm supposed to be off in a little bit though."

Yuri seems to also be discouraged, apologizing for keeping you, even though you're the one who had intentionally kept the talk going. She bites her lip, and then, probably overtaken by a brief moment of courage, suggests, "When you get off, maybe then I could tell you about the books?"

You're stunned, but at the same time, this was precisely what you'd been hoping for! "Yes, sure! That sounds great. I'll see you then!" You chirp, hurrying away.

The last of your shift passes by rather quickly, and when it comes time to clock out, you actually have to tell your supervisor no, you can't stay another extra hour even if they are busy, because you have plans! Normally you would have, but not today.

You meet Yuri at the door and the two of you leave the coffee shop together. The sun is close to setting, but not quite there yet. "Thank you again, Yuri! I like spending time with you, I've just been a little busy lately," you say.

Yuri mumbles something you can't quite hear, but then adds more clearly, "I-I'm glad..."

"So," you begin, clasping your hands behind you and beaming at her. "About those books!"

That's all it takes for Yuri to dive into an explanation of the main plot points as the two of you walk side by side towards your home.

You're more than a bit tired from work and standing on your feet for so long, but it's nice to have company on the walk back, especially someone like Yuri. You hum and comment every so often, honestly thinking that they did sound like the sort of books you would enjoy. Full of fantasy and mystery and thrills... and of course, romance.

"So, the main character ditches his friend, who's been with him the whole time, for the new girl? And she's from the enemy's group?" You surmise.

Yuri hesitates. "I don't want to spoil anything for you if you're wanting to read them for yourself..."

"Such a tease," you sigh, pretending to be betrayed. "Oh, we're here- this is my house."

The two of you stop at the gate leading to the front yard of your home, and you're positive you aren't imagining the plaintive expression on Yuri's face. You didn't really want your time together to end either, but alas, you both have classes tomorrow.

"If- If you really would like, you can borrow the first book from me," offers Yuri. "And then... you'll see for yourself how it all goes."

You nod enthusiastically. "Yes, please! Thank you, that's really sweet of you! We can discuss it too after I'm finished reading it. I think I already know who my favorite character is going to be, though."

Yuri tilts her head curiously. "Who would that be?"

"Nope! It's a secret, for now." You pause, glancing up at the darkening sky. "Will you be okay walking home by yourself?"

Her violet eyes soften at your concern. "Yes, I don't live very far from here."

You find yourself unsure of how to say goodbye to Yuri, an uncertain quiet settling over the two of you, but she doesn't seem to find it awkward. "Okay, if you're sure. Do you mind giving me your phone number, though?"

She starts in surprise, a dusting of pink covering her cheeks. "U-Uhm- I- you-?"

"So you can text me when you get home," you quickly defend your reasoning, feeling a bit shy yourself at Yuri's reaction. She really was unique- most people tried to play it cool when asking for or giving numbers.

"R-Right," she stammers, reciting it off for you, and her phone buzzes at the quick text message you sent her so she would have your number.

"I'll see you tomorrow then, at the Literature Club," you finally say, already looking forward to it. "And don't forget to bring the book, please!"

Yuri steps back, her gaze on the ground but you still see her smile to herself. "Yes, I will. Bye, Y/N." She seems like she has something else she wants to say, but then she gives herself a shake and quickly turns away, her long hair twirling to follow her.

You watch her go until you can't see her anymore, partly due to wanting to make sure she was safe.

You couldn't help but admire her for her intelligence and beauty, even if she seemed to admire your social skills in return. Hopefully this was the start of a very deep relationship with Yuri.

[bieddiediaz]

humari adhuri kahani

our incomplete story.

this one brought to you by @alberthan, @diazchristopher, and yours truly. future fic, buck/eddie, unrequited love (sort of), angst.

It’s quiet. Buck would almost say too quiet, but the silence is nice sometimes.

(Especially when he’s here. Especially when he’s with Eddie.)

They’re working in tandem, Eddie rinsing off dishes and handing them to Buck, who dries them and puts them on the rack. It’s a routine they’ve followed a thousand times before – years and years of late nights, family gatherings, spending almost more time with each other than significant others. Something about the silence is tranquil, calming, and peaceful. It makes Buck want to lay himself bare in front of the one person who knows him inside and out.

Maybe that’s why it spills out of him tonight. After years of not addressing it, letting it sit between them, knowing but not speaking of it. Maybe the silence is what makes Buck honest. Things unsaid spilling over him like the water in the plate he’s rinsing.

He’s unnecessarily focused on drying the plate in his hands when he says, “You know what’s funny?”

Eddie looks at him curiously.

(Buck’s still staring at his plate.)

“I used to be in love with you.”

Eddie’s hands freeze where they’re rinsing off a bowl. He turns back to the sink. A moment passes; Buck sees a bitter smile creep up the edges of his face from the corner of his eye. There’s a pause before Eddie says, “I know.” Another pause. “But you knew that, didn’t you?”

Buck’s surprised Eddie wants to have this conversation, but, well. He was the one who opened this can of worms. He’s got no one to blame but himself. He shrugs once. “I suspected it. A part of me definitely did. But then… you were with Ana, and I found Taylor.” He pauses, thinking about her for a moment. She was supposed to be working late, but she’s probably home by now. Most likely settled in bed with her laptop, she has a presentation in two days. “I knew you didn’t love me back, so I thought it was best to move on. So we could both be happy.” Another pause. “We’re happy, aren’t we?” 

(He hopes he doesn’t sound as plaintive as he feels.)

Eddie’s finally looking at Buck. Buck can’t stand to look at the pain and longing on his face. He has to avert his eyes as he hears Eddie say, “Yeah, Buck. We’re happy.” 

(Buck almost wishes Eddie hadn’t said that.)

Silence settles over them once more. They get through most of the dishes before Eddie breaks it again. “After... the shooting in LA, after I broke up with Ana - actually, the reason I broke up with Ana - there was a period… where I was in love with you too.” He sighs. “But you had moved on, hadn’t you.” 

(It wasn’t a question. Buck tries to come up with an answer anyway.)

(He wonders, briefly, why the only thing surprising about this conversation is that they’re actually having it.)

He knows Eddie can hear the regret in his voice when he settles on, “Yeah.”

Eddie turns off the tap and dries his hands as Buck puts the last bowl on the rack. He takes the towel from Eddie and wipes his own hands as they finally turn to face each other properly. It’s Eddie who speaks again. “You know, Hen and Chim, they told me once.”

Buck frowns. “Told you what?”

Eddie sounds almost wistful. “ I- I wasn’t very…subtle about my feelings for you. They sat me down one day and told me that you loved me too and I should just tell you. Be honest with you.”

Buck stiffens and realises he’s been holding his breath. He lets it out in a rush. “What did you say?”

“I told them that I knew you. Better than anyone. You loved me. You used to.I knew that you did. And that you don't anymore.”

“Yeah.”

Eddie’s smile is tight. He bumps his shoulder to his in a soft touch. “Hey, but we’re happy now.”

“Yeah. Happy.” 

As if synchronised, they both move as one, pushing off the counter and walking to the living room; straightening up the remnants of the night and settling on the couch. Eddie picks up the remote and puts something on the TV.

(If asked, neither of them could tell you what it is.)

As he stares unseeingly at the TV, Buck can hear the echoes of Christopher’s laughter in the halls. He can feel the imprints of the years of memories, of coming home to Eddie, of Eddie coming home to him.

(The silence feels weighted now.) 

He doesn’t know how much time has passed before he speaks again. “Eddie, I -”

Eddie cuts him off. “Don’t say it.”

Of course, Eddie knows him better than he knows himself. Eddie knows what he’s thinking, what he’s wondering.

Still, he wouldn’t be Buck if he knew where to quit. “Do you think about it? What could’ve been different?”

Eddie doesn’t respond for a long moment. They’re still not looking at each other. The moment stretches on, the air feels heavier.

“Maybe.”

Buck glances at him and turns his head back to the screen. He can feel his thoughts take a bitter turn. “I guess we were young and stupid anyway.”

Eddie's voice cuts the air like a knife. “My love for you wasn’t.”

Eyes wide, Buck turns to Eddie, just to find Eddie’s already looking at him, a terrible fire burning in his eyes. Buck tenses, but Eddie seems to deflate just as quickly. He sounds resigned as he says, “Maybe we just weren’t meant to be.”

Buck can’t breathe. “Or maybe we were, but we missed our shot.”

Eddie’s smile is sad now. “Maybe.”

They turn back to the TV together. Buck still doesn’t know what’s playing. “In another life, perhaps.”

(What was worse: their vow of silence stretching the space between them, or the words that filled those spaces?)

“We could’ve been really happy.” It’s so quiet Buck almost doesn’t hear it.

“Or we would’ve crashed and burned.”

Eddie lets out a short laugh. “I’d like to believe not. I have more faith in us than that.”

“Yeah.”

Buck’s quiet for another moment. “I keep wondering. I know I shouldn’t. What if. If we hadn’t missed our chance, we could’ve had it all. We could’ve had everything.”

Eddie’s silent.

Buck can feel his thoughts going in a million directions. He doesn’t know what to think. It’s nothing new, this conversation, but there’s something about voicing these not-secrets they’ve always kept buried that has him breathless.

(And yet, he still feels calm. He always does, when he’s with Eddie.)

That’s probably why he needs to voice this too. “But, Eddie… you know I love you, right? You’re my best friend.”

Eddie smiles softly. “Back at you.”

“And… whatever else could’ve happened, I wouldn’t trade your friendship for anything. No matter what.”

“I love you, too.” 

(He does. Buck can feel it in his voice. It’s one thing Buck never doubted. Not once.)

(What was more painful: Eddie’s love for Buck, or the words he wished he’d said?)

Eddie’s not done. “And… I have everything I need. Getting to have you in my life, in whatever form, that to me is—everything I’ll ever want.”

Eddie’s fully looking at Buck now. “I’m sorry you had to hurt, though.”

Buck’s startled into laughter. “That’s not your fault.”

“I know. I’m still sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too.”

(They're both older, a little wiser, a little softer, more settled around the edges and in their own skin. They should know better. they should know to move on. They have moved on. But…they can't help but want to fall into the familiarity of each other, that comfortable feeling of being home that they only ever got from each other.

They might have moved on from each other physically and in every way that seems to matter, but their hearts haven't caught the memo yet. They probably never will. Because their love for each other is an intrinsic part of themselves now, no matter their circumstances in reality. no matter how foolish or hopeless it may be.

They weren't what each other wanted now; but it was like an itch under the skin waiting to be scratched. The overwhelming feeling of a longing they once both knew.

And yet.

They just can't do anything about it. And they won't.

They have partners. Lives.

Timing is truly a bitch.)

They sit there until the TV screen fades to black, whatever they were not-watching rolls credits.

The silence feels lighter now. Buck doesn’t feel bad about breaking it. “We were so different back then. Two people trying to survive themselves, build a home. Maybe this is what we’re meant to be like.”

“Wondering about the what ifs?”

Buck nods.

“Incomplete.”

[writinglizards]

Something the Cat Dragged In

Summary: It's been almost a year since Lambert's seen Aiden.

He's likely not interested anymore, even if Lambert had done his best to curb his sharpest edges, keep him coming back. It hurts and he tells himself it doesn't. It's better than the alternative. Better than Aiden hurt...or worse.

Then he finds the cat.

Pairing: Aiden/Lambert Rating: Teen Warnings: None

This is for @contemplativepancakes who asked for a comedy of errors. I am awful at that, but I’ve been assured this is funny, so. Please enjoy!

Read on Ao3

It's been almost a year since Lambert's seen Aiden when he finds the cat.

Or more accurately, perhaps, the cat finds him.

It's been about two weeks since he set out from Kaer Morhen to the clearing where he usually meets Aiden. He hadn't shown last year and Lambert hadn't been able to find him, even keeping an ear out for word about a tall, dark-haired cat witcher too nice for his own good.

He's not sure what he's hoping for this year, or at least he's not comfortable admitting to himself what he's hoping for. He likes Aiden, but they don't need to travel together. He's sure he's fine, he's just...busy.

It doesn't make the ache in his chest any easier to deal with, but he pretends it does.

Regardless, he heads for their meeting spot and sets up camp. He'll wait a week and if Aiden still hasn't shown after that, well.

He's fine. He's just...not interested in Lambert anymore, probably.

That hurts worse, somehow.

-----

The cat shows up the second morning Lambert's camped out.

It's a skinny thing, sleek black with a patch of white on his chest and haunting green eyes.

Lambert wakes up to the creature nestled between his calves and startles, upsetting the cat who mews his annoyance and bites his foot. Lambert shoots out of his bedroll after that.

"What the fuck?" he asks the cat, who eyes him with distaste but doesn't move, and Lambert figures, well. The cat will leave on its own he'll just...wait.

-----

The cat doesn't leave, and it's starting to freak Lambert out, just a little bit.

When he settles down to eat, the cat creeps from his bedroll to sit by his boots and stare with big, green eyes that remind him of Aiden. He shoves that thought from his head as quickly as it arrives.

"Cats don't like witchers," he says, as if the cat might have forgotten, but he doesn't move, just sits and stares at Lambert's jerky.

"Are you just hungry?" he asks, and, after a brief hesitation, he snaps a small piece off and offers it to the cat. The cat, for his part, briefly sniffs the offering before taking it into his mouth only to drop it on the floor and bat it around like a toy.

"Really?" he asks the cat, but the cat doesn't seem to care about Lambert's none too silent judgment, just continues to amuse himself with the bit of food. Lambert only hopes the little creature will move on, and quickly.

-----

It keeps trying to creep into his bedroll.

"You can't sleep here," he hisses, shoving the little creature away from his feet for the third time in as many minutes. In response, the cat hisses and bites, sinking its sharp little teeth into Lambert's calf.

"Son of a bitch." The cat stares defiantly at Lambert over its mouthful of flesh as if daring him to retaliate. Reluctantly, he can admit the little thing has gumption.

"You're mean you know that?" he asks the cat, who, when it becomes clear Lambert isn't going to continue fighting, lets go of its mouthful and steps daintily over his leg to settle between his knees.

"This is only for tonight," he says, huffing irritably, "and only because you're such a little dick." The cat ignores him, settling down and beginning to purr softly. Lambert pretends that doesn't make his heart swell.

-----

Lambert can't bring himself to disturb the cat when he wakes so he just...lays there and lets the little beast slumber.

He tells himself it's because he doesn't want to be bit again. It has nothing to do with the fact the cat is small and warm, and the weight of it against his shins is comforting.

It's fine until the little creatin begins to chew on his toes.

"I thought you were asleep," he hisses, twitching his ankles to dislodge it. The cat only delights in the movement, pouncing after him. Lambert groans.

"When are you going to get lost?" he asks, hauling himself up and depriving the cat of their game. He's not expecting the small thing to sit back on its haunches and merp softly at him. Slowly, he stills.

"You wanna say that again?" he asks, and the cat meows plaintively. Staring at him like this, he's reminded again of Aiden. The eyes, the color of the fur so close to the deep black of Aiden's own hair, and the jagged, mangled left ear, just like--

Something like ice settles in his veins.

"Aiden?" he asks tentatively, and the cat meows delightedly, striding forward to wind between his legs. Lambert crouches to put himself on level with the cat again.

"Tell me I'm not crazy," he begs. The cat just stares at him before headbutting his knee. Without thinking, he raises a hand, running fingers meant for killing back through silky fur. Beneath his fingertips, the cat kicks up a purr again.

"Fuck, it is you, isn't it?" he asks, scratching gently at the base of the mangled ear just to listen to the way the cat--Aiden, it's Aiden--purrs his pleasure, head tipped into the contact.

"What the fuck am I gonna do with you?" he asks. Aiden, too distracted by Lambert's gentle caress, isn't in the least bit helpful with an answer.

-----

If Aiden is here, there's no point in sticking around camp and waiting any longer, but Lambert still feels off-kilter and he did budget a week's worth of resources for camping, so he’ll just...he'll just give it another day or two. Just until he feels a little less like he's losing his mind.

He feeds the cat the bits of the fresh rabbit he caught the night before for breakfast and the cat does eat that, quietly delighted with its little meal. And now that he knows it's Aiden...

"Do you have any idea how worried I was last year?" he asks, petting down his lanky back and enjoying the way he arches into it, purring again, "I thought...uh," he can't quite say it. The I thought you were dead or the I thought you didn't want me, bit. Both hurt.

"Anyway," he mumbles awkwardly, "how long have you been like this?" Aiden just makes a little chirping sound and headbutts his hand again to get him to pet him. Lambert sighs.

He spends the day charting out a path to the nearest mage who might be willing to help. He's pretty sure that would be Triss where she’s been staying in Ard Carraigh, even though she's more than a two-week ride away. She's helped Lambert in the past, he figures she's probably his best bet now, too.

"What do you think, Aiden?" he asks, but the cat is napping curled up on top of one of his saddlebags and otherwise unhelpful. Lambert is pretty much on his own.

-----

That night is a repeat of the night before, Aiden curled up across his shins and purring sweetly. As he lays staring at the stars and trying to sleep, he can't help but wonder how much of Aiden is...present, for lack of a better term. The cat acts like a cat, except he's eerily like Aiden in appearance and the fact that he's...he's fond of Lambert, apparently. He'd known, immediately, Lambert would care for him. He at least needs to get him turned back, proved that Aiden's instincts there had been right.

He falls asleep worrying about it.

-----

Traveling with Aiden as a cat is...not as simple as it should be.

"If you won't stay in the god damned saddlebag, you at least need to hold still," he hisses wrestling the cat into his lap. Aiden’s been trying to walk the length of his horse as they ride, and the prick of his claws is making Cinnamon nervous. Lambert doesn't want to be thrown from the saddle, so he's got the cat under the arms, holding him to his chest as he wiggles in an attempt to get free. Aiden is clearly not amused by the situation.

"You bastard," Lambert hisses when Aiden takes a chunk out of his arm through the thin cloth of his shirt, unprotected by his bracer or jacket, "Aiden would you, fuck--" the cat yowls and Lambert jerks Cinnamon to a halt. "What?"

Before he can figure out what's wrong, Aiden's lept from his arms, landed gracefully on his feet, and bolted into the trees.

"Aiden, wait! Fuck," he hisses, and the next minute, there's a click of hooves and--

"Having a good morning, Lambs?" Lambert whips around so fast his neck cracks alarmingly.

"Aiden?"

He's astride a horse Lambert doesn't recognize, not Sugar, and he looks...he looks...

"You're not a cat," he says dumbly, and Aiden grins, the bastard.

"No, but it's been very fun watching you the last day or so," and oh, Lambert's going to kill him, actually, "you didn't really think the cat was me, did you?"

"I...it was...fuck," he spits, wheeling Cinnamon to march past Aiden's gelding, now headed in the opposite direction. If the damn man is fine, then he doesn't need to go see Triss and he can head back towards Aedd Gunvael looking for contracts as he'd planned previously.

"Aww Lambs, no need to get embarrassed," Aiden calls, and Lambert can hear the shit-eating grin, "I'm just teasing."

"Fuck off," he growls, but Aiden's horse falls into step beside Cinnamon.

"Oh, don't pout on me, Lambert. I thought it was cute," he says, and Lambert can't bite back the words in his throat any longer.

"I thought you were dead," he spits, "or worse." Disinterested. Abruptly, Aiden leans over and catches Cinnamon's reins, pulling them both to a stop.

"Whoa, wait. You thought...what?"

"I haven't seen you in a year," he bites out, horrified to find his throat thick with tears, "what was I supposed to think?"

"You didn't get my letter?" he asks, and then, before Lambert can process that statement, "fuck, Lambert, I'm so sorry. I thought you knew I was working far south last year, I couldn't...I couldn't ask you to come with me, so I left you a note at that inn we drink at every year. Bastards must have tossed it. Fuck."

"So you didn't..." you didn't abandon me, you aren't tired of me, you haven't moved on to something better. He can't say any of that, just goes quiet.

"I didn't leave you high and dry on purpose, no. Fuck, Lambert, how could I?" he smiles, a small, timid thing, "you're the best part of my year, puppy dog, how could I?"

The sincerity in his gaze and his words makes Lambert's face hot, makes his throat tight. He spurs Cinnamon back into motion, and Aiden's horse follows.

"Whatever, you fucking sap." It's the best he can manage without risking something drastic, like tears or his own dopy smile. Still, he can feel Aiden radiating smug energy behind him again.

"Aww, come on, puppy, I just poured my heart out for you, I deserve better than a whatever."

"You did not," he snaps, "shut up."

"Oh, you need declarations of love then? Fine. I--"

"Aiden," he cuts him off, not willing to find out how far Aiden will take this game of emotional chicken, "stop. I'm...I missed you. You're the best part of my year too." He says it without looking at him, Cinnamon a few crucial paces ahead of Aiden's horse. The back of his neck feels hot and he knows he's blushing.

"O-oh," Aiden stammers out, "uh--"

"There," Lambert cuts in, "now you can shut up."

Gratefully, Aiden does.

-----

Lambert's so relieved about Aiden, he doesn't think about the cat until they stop to camp for the night.

"Do you think the cat's okay?" he asks, and Aiden gives him a long, slow look.

"Why does it matter?"

"Why does it--what the fuck Aiden? It's just a little cat. How's it gonna take care of itself out here? I should have gone after it." He regrets being so wrapped up in Aiden that he'd forgotten the other Aiden, cat Aiden. Not cat Aiden? Fuck, he's tired.

"Cats take care of themselves, Lambs, don't stress about it. He was managing just fine until he found a soft-hearted witcher to feed him, he'll be fine."

"Excuse me, who the fuck do you think is soft-hearted here?" he growls, and Aiden lays his bedroll out beside him and grins.

"Why you, puppy dog. You're the sweetest--" he doesn't let him finish, hooking his foot around Aiden's ankle and bringing him down on top of the bedroll hard.

"Not sweet," he hisses, but it feels like overcompensation even to him, and Aiden just laughs, rolling to stare at him with eyes that are far too fond.

"Sure thing, Lambert."

And if, as they both fall asleep, Lambert shifts closer to throw his arm around Aiden's waist, pull him in closer amidst Aiden's sleepy mumbling, well. It's still cold at night. Nothing more.

-----

There's a slight, warm weight across Lambert's shins when he wakes.

It takes his half-asleep mind a minute to realize what that means, and then he's sitting up so fast Aiden makes a startled noise.

"Lambert, what the fuck," Aiden husks, but Lambert's not listening.

No, he's focused on the cat curled across his shins, jet back with one mangled ear and a white spot on his chest. He peers up at Lambert with those same big green eyes, and something in Lambert's chest shifts.

"Hey there Aiden, thought I lost you," he murmurs, reaching out to pet across the broad side of the little creature. He allows it for a moment before catching Lambert's hand with his paws and biting, just enough for him to feel it. "Yeah, yeah, I deserve that."

"What are you--oh." Aiden comes up short when he sits up and sees the cat again, nestled across Lambert's legs, "well I'll be damned." He reaches out to pet the cat too, who promptly hisses and swats at Aiden, claws extended, "Oi, fuck, rude." Lambert laughs.

"Guess he doesn't like you much, eh?" His chest feels light as he scoops the cat up into his arms. He tolerates it, although he gives a fretful little meow at the treatment.

"You would find the only cat that stands witchers and get it only to like you," Aiden grouses, but he doesn't seem genuinely troubled about it, "I can tell why you thought of me, though. That's sweet." And that--

"Yeah," he says, unable to come up with something suitably snarky and mean. He sets the cat down, who scampers back over to make himself comfortable on Lambert's saddlebag, away from the indignity of surprise cuddles. He's trying not to look at Aiden's own mangled ear, the one cut round in a rough approximation of a human's, a reminder of how he’s been treated in the past. Lambert had been...so fucking worried.

"You can't keep calling him Aiden, though."

"Sure thing," he says, forcing a grin. He has no intentions of calling the cat anything else and he knows Aiden knows, too, can see it in the fond little crinkle around his eyes, the sweet upturn of his lips, "Come on, we've got a camp to pack."

And if Lambert keeps calling the cat Aiden and starts calling witcher Aiden witcher Aiden just to piss him off? Well. How else is he supposed to know he's loved?

[theartofdreaming1]

Slightly paraphrased, but Peeta talking about that moment he developed his crush on Katniss is just too sweet 😊

As usual, my thoughts regarding this week’s prompts and random thoughts on chapters 22-24 are below the cut (sprinkled in some psychology thoughts again).

heart

Honestly, I think the people in Panem would perceive the whole everlark storyline the same way we perceive and react to our ships on tv (desperately wanting to reach through the screen, shoving the characters forcefully together, screaming “And now, kiss!”); especially the Capitolites who barely recognize the tributes (or people in the districts, in general) as people. The people in the districts would definitely view the whole thing more under a “reality tv” kind of lens, questioning how much of the relationship is real or not (we know that Finnick certainly thought that the entire thing was just a spiel, until Peeta hit that forcefield). The time spent in the cave must have been pretty convincing, though.

mind

I think that Katniss is still torn here - On the one hand, she kind of wants to believe that Peeta is actually into her (remember the happiness she felt when Peeta told her how his crush on her began, and it all added up and seemed so real), but on the other hand she’s terrified of that possibility because A) lingering trauma from her mom’s depression in response the Mr. Everdeen’s death, B) Katniss never even considered falling in love, so that’s a sudden unexpected thing to deal with, and C) maybe it’s just for the sake of the Games; and wouldn’t that hurt, getting your hopes up only to learn it was only for show? (How about we ask Peeta about that?)

soul

Yeah, that quote about Peeta only eating stale bread also struck me as quite sad. It just further adds to his understanding how there should be more to life than just survival, though. (One day, I’ll make that post about Peeta, Katniss, and Maslow’s pyramid of needs, I swear! I’ve already gathered some research material)

Chapter 22

My mother’s hand strokes my cheek and I don’t push it away as I would in wakefulness, never wanting her to know how much I crave that gentle touch. How much I miss her even though I still don’t trust her. - Ugh, I can’t... Katniss misses her mom, misses being cared for😢 I’m so glad we’re going to see her patch up her relationship with her mom in CF... On a different note, Katniss craving that gentle touch just perfectly illustrates why she’s so drawn to Peeta, who is generally such a gentle soul (I mean, he’s literally the person stroking her cheek here 😊)

He [Peeta] doesn’t seem angry about my tricking him, drugging him, and running off to the feast. Maybe I’m just too beat-up and I’ll hear about it later when I’m stronger. But for the moment, he’s all gentleness. - As I was saying... 😉

“I’ll go hunting soon,” I say. “Not too soon, all right?” he says. “You just let me take care of you for a while.” - I love them so much😊🥰 And then Peeta makes sure she’s well-fed and hydrated, he rubs her cold feet and tucks her into the sleeping back... and she let’s him! 💗

“He [Thresh] let you go because he didn’t want to owe you anything?” asks Peeta in disbelief. “Yes. I don’t expect you to understand it. You’ve always had enough. But if you’d lived in the Seam, I wouldn’t have to explain,” I say. “And don’t try. Obviously I’m too dim to get it,” he says. - Oof. This exchange here is interesting in many ways: 1) it highlights their different experiences, tied to their different socioeconomic backgrounds, basically, and 2)  that Katniss is very much aware of this difference, but we also see hints of her own ignorance here - because Peeta didn’t have to starve in his childhood, she thinks that he can’t possibly understand this level of hardship; but there are other ways in which one can suffer/lack fundamental needs, which brings us to 3) Peeta’s response about being “obviously too dim to get it”; I think this is a clue to his mom being also verbally abusive towards him: she called him “stupid creature” when he burnt those loaves of bread for Katniss and when he’s losing it in the attic of the Justice Building in D11 in CF he is mad that Katniss and Haymitch keep things from him “like [he’s] too inconsequential or stupid or weak to handle them”, which - to me - sounds like he’s tired of being treated that way (i.e. the way his mother treats him)

“I want to go home, Peeta,” I say plaintively, like a a small child. - God, this is a teenager in a murder-arena who feels like wanting to go home is a childish notion instead of a totally legitimate wish for anyone in that situation, regardless of age 😢

It’s not that Peeta’s soft exactly, and he’s proved he’s not a coward. But there are things you don’t question too much, I guess, when your home always smells like baking bread, whereas Gale questions everything. What would Peeta think of the irreverent banter that passes between us as we break the law each day? Would it shock him? The things we say about Panem? Gale’s tirades against the Capitol? - Geez, Katniss, give Peeta some credit here! A) It’s not like Peeta can walk around District 12 talking publicly about the injustices happening there - she and Peeta hadn’t even talked with each other before the reaping, whereas Gale is her best friend who rants to her while they are outside the confines of D12 and B) Peeta is literally the one who introduced the whole “not a piece in their Games”-idea to her; why would he be clutching his pearls over Katniss and Gale’s irreverent banter?! Just because Peeta didn’t live on the brink of starvation (she again brings up how his house smells like bread and - at this point - still thinks that the family running the bakery actually gets to eat what they produce just like that), doesn’t mean he doesn’t see how shitty life in D12 is - he can still want better conditions for those who are worse off than him!

“I did do the right thing,” I say. “No! Just don’t, Katniss!” His grip tightens, hurting my hand, and there’s real anger in his voice. “Don’t die for me. You won’t be doing me any favors. All right?” - Well, we’ll see this song and dance again in CF...

And while I was talking, the idea of actually losing Peeta hit me again and I realized how much I don’t want him to die. [...] And it’s not about what will happen back home. And it’s not just that I don’t want to be alone. It’s him. I do not want to lose the boy with the bread.” - I wish CF Katniss would remember this moment when she is questioning her motives about saving Peeta’s life in the arena - You. Care. For. This. Boy! You. Value. Him. For. Who. He. Is!!!

This is the first kiss that we’re both fully aware of. [...] This is the first kiss where I actually feel stirring inside my chest. Warm and curious. This is the first kiss that makes me want another. - Whoo! Is it hot in here or is it just me? 😉

I’m struck by his immediacy now. As we settle in, he pulls my head down to use his arm as a pillow; the other rests protectively over me even when he goes to sleep. No one has held me like this in such a long time. Since my father died and I stopped trusting my mother, no one else’s arms have made me feel this safe. - He makes her feel safe in a murder-arena!!! 😭 This is the kind of stuff that makes everlark just a top tier romance, tbh

Peeta telling Katniss about his crush starting on their first day of school 🥰😭 - and her reaction to it... For a moment, I’m almost foolishly happy - yes, because you have a crush on him, too! - and then confusion sweeps over me. Because we’re supposed to be making up this stuff [...] So, if those details are true... could it all be true? - YESSSSSSSS!!!

“You have a... remarkable memory, “ I say haltingly. - as a severely socially awkward person... I felt that lame response in my bones 😅

“You don’t have much competition anywhere.” And this time, it’s me who leans in. - God, this would be such an amazing moment if it didn’t get tainted by that immediate sponsor gift, which just serves to muddle Katniss’s feelings with her sense of survival, further complicating her relationship with Peeta... *sigh* 

Chapter 23

“What was that you were saying just before the food arrived? Something about me... no competition... best thing that ever happened to you...” “I don’t remember that last part,” I say, hoping it’s too dim in here for the cameras to pick up my blush. “Oh, that’s right. That’s what I was thinking,” he says. - Peeta is the master of being a cheeky little shit and adorable flirt at the same time

“So, since we were five, you never even noticed any other girls?” I ask him. “No, I noticed just about every girl, but none of them made a lasting impression but you,” he says. - I appreciate that while Peeta has had a crush on Katniss forever, he clearly didn’t spend the entire time pining after her, oblivious to the rest of the world - he has a life outside of Katniss Everdeen, but ultimately, it all lead back to her

A disturbing thought hits me. “But then, our only neighbor will be Haymitch!” “Ah, that’ll be nice,” says Peeta, tightening his arms around me. “You and me and Haymitch. Very cozy. Picnics, birthdays, long winter nights around the fire retelling old Hunger Games tales.” “I told you, he hates me!” I say, but I can’t help laughing at the image of Haymitch becoming my new pal. - Laugh all you want, this is going to end up being your future anyway 😄

He [Haymitch]’s at something of a disadvantage because most mentors have a partner, another victor to help them whereas Haymitch has to bready to go into action at any moment. Kind of like me when I was alone in the arena. I wonder how he’s holding up, with the drinking, the attention, and the stress of tring to keep us alive. - Katniss is already worrying about her “new pal”, I see ;)

Maybe he [Haymitch] wasn’t always a drunk. Maybe, in the beginning, he tried to help the tributes. But then it got unbearable. It must be hell to mentor two kids and then watch them die. - Honestly, that sounds absolutely awful...

Poor, Katniss, when she learns of Thresh’s death :( - But no one will understand my sorrow at Thresh’s murder. - It’s horrible how compassion and basic human decency gets construed as ‘weakness’ in the world of Hunger Games (esp. the Capitol)

Then I escape into sleep, comforted by a full belly and the steady warmth of Peeta beside me. - Honestly, I think a word analysis of THG-series could be interesting; how often does Katniss mention “warmth”, “steady/steadiness” “safe/safety/security” in connection with “Peeta”?

“We make a goat cheese and apple tart at the bakery,” he says. “Bet that’s expensive,” I say. “Too expensive for my family to eat. Unless it’s gone very stale. Of course, practically everything we eat is stale,” says Peeta [...] Huh. I always assumed the shopkeepers live a soft life. And it’s true, Peeta has always had enough to eat. But there’s something kind of depressing about living your life on stale bread - Katniss is starting to realize that the lives of the merchants isn’t a cushy as she thought; also, in a way, we see a “prettier” version of how Panem treats the districts overall -> feeding the districts just enough that they can do their work (plus/minus a couple of people who’ll die of starvation, but at a small, for Capitolites insignificant margin), but not so much that they are in good shape to rebel; here, the merchants of D12 have just enough that they can live a “decent” life (they know it could be worse -> the Seam), but they don’t have enough to live a free, comfortable, self-determined life either. This also just further drives a wedge between the inhabitants of D12 (the merchants won’t want to rebel because they don’t want to get ‘demoted’ in their lifestyle, starving like the people from the Seam, and the Seam folk feel resentful towards the merchant people, while also not having the resources to rebel, due to their awful socioeconomic conditions)

What would be my life like on a daily basis? Most of it has been consumed with the acquisition of food. Take that away and I’m not really sure who I am, what my identity is. - It’s so sad who Katniss has been so consumed with ensuring that her most base needs are fulfilled that she barely has had the time to really figure out who she is and what she wants from life (If we’re talking Maslow’s pyramid of needs, Katniss would primarily be stuck on the lowest tier 😢)

At least, we’ll be friends, I think. Nothing will change the fact that we’ve saved each other’s lives in here. And beyond that, he will always be the boy with the bread. Good friends. - Honestly, Katniss counting on being good friends with Peeta after the Games is the highest honor she can bestow on him at that moment (she’s so into him, lol); of course, knowing that their relationship is going to be a bit rocky once they’ve come back makes this thought a little sad... but we also know they’ll make up (and out ;) in the future

Peeta licking his plate and blowing a kiss out to Effie is such an adorable goofball-moment 😊

I cover his mouth with my hand, but I’m laughing. “Stop! Cato could be right outside our cave.” He grabs my hand away. “What do I care? I’ve got you to protect me now,” says Peeta, pulling me to him. - This moment would be so cute (also, Peeta’s so confident in Katniss’s skills to protect him, which is adorable - toxic masculinity who?) but... Ugh, he’s just so giddy here, it kind of breaks my heart for when he learns later that (at least some) of Katniss’s reactions were just for show

“If we want food, we better head back up to my old hunting grounds,” I say. “Your call, Just tell me what you need me to do,” Peeta says. - Love how Peeta’s always ready to follow Katniss’s lead :)

Ideally, I’d dump Peeta now with some simple root-gathering chore and go hunt [...] “Katniss,” he says. “We need to split up. I know I’m chasing away the game.” [...] “Show me some plants to gather and that way we’ll both be useful.” - Teamwork! If it weren’t for Katniss worrying for Peeta’s safety, they’d be on the same page here

“What if you climbed up in a tree and acted as a lookout while I haunted?” I say, trying to make it sound like very important work. “What if you show me what’s edible around here and go get us some meat?” he says, mimicking my tone. - I really like how Peeta’s challenges Katniss here; he doesn’t just go along with everything she says, while still being quite reasonable

I feel like I’m eleven, again, tethered not to the safety of the fence but to Peeta, allowing myself twenty, maybe thirty yards of hunting space. [...] I allow myself to drift farther away, and soon have two rabbits and a fat squirrel to show for it. - I don’t know, but Katniss feeling tethered to Peeta makes me think of Mary Ainsworth’s attachment theory, according to which children with a secure attachment to their primary caregiver use  their “attachment figure as a safe base to explore the environment”... Of course, Ainsworth’s Strange Situation was conducted with young children, but attachment styles are supposed to influence the relationships we form with people in our later lives as well (including romantic relationships)... I dunno, just a random association that popped into my brain 😅

Chapter 24

Peeta’s a whiz with fires, coaxing a blaze out of the damp wood. - Heh, Peeta sure knows how to handle fire, huh, Katniss (or should I say: Girl on Fire?) 😏

I order him into the sleeping bag and set aside the rest of his food for him when he wakes. He drops off immediately. I pull the sleeping bag up to his chin and kiss his forehead, not for the audience, but for me. Because I’m so greateful that he’s still here, not dead by the stream as I’d thought.  - Aww, this is so sweet (and domestic)!

It’s funny. I feel almost as if it’s the first day of the Games again. That I’m in the same position. [...] But no, there’s the boy waiting beside me. I feel his arms wrap around me. - They are a team! Katniss doesn’t have to face the horrors of the Games alone anymore! It keeps boiling down to this.