#it's been several days and i am still not over this

[likea-silhouette]

pairing: harry styles x fem!reader

rating: mature

word count: 2.8k

summary: Harry was once the boy you loved and wanted to spend your life with. The funny thing is that addiction is something that is never predicted. What happens when you run into your ex-boyfriend years after your breakup that was due to his vices? Read part one here

*based on the song Complex by Katie Gregson-MacLeod*

tagged: @imaginexxharry

The moment you step inside you feel a warmth and familiarity, almost making you completely forget about Harry and the uneasiness you had felt just moments ago.

This home. You’d spent so many wonderful days and nights within its confines. Whether watching movies and trashy TV shows with Nadia or playing board games that you only half understood, nevertheless still enjoyed. It felt like another home to you. “There you are!”, Nadia squealed above the music that wasn’t too low or high in volume, but just right. Immediately, a smile overtook your lips as you outstretched your hands to envelope your best friend in a warm embrace.

“God, am I glad you’re here”, Nadia said as she lifted her drink to her lips.

“Why? What’s wrong?” You looked at her quizzically as you tried to convince yourself it had nothing to do with your ex-boyfriend. Not everything revolved around him, yet, at this very moment, your mind was so preoccupied with him and only him that it was hard not to associate Harry with every subject that came to mind.

Nadia moved next to you and rested her elbow on top of your shoulder as her knuckles held her chin up.

“I swear I only know like three people here. I’ve just been walking around aimlessly trying to find a buddy to gossip with.”

You chuckled lightly as relief swept over you. “Well, I’m here now so consider yourself buddied up.”

Nadia smiled and rolled her eyes playfully in relief, “Thank-fucking-god.”

Eventually, the both of you wandered over to the kitchen where various alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages were being created by a hired bartender.

“Wow, you really splurged on this.”

Nadia’s lips curled into a smile as she shrugged, “Only the best for my guy.”

Once a gin and tonic was comfortably situated in your and your friend's hand, the both of you maneuvered through the decent volume of friends and family that had arrived in the time it took for you to browse and pick out a cocktail. Thankfully, refuge in the living room was close as you and Nadia took a seat on a sectional sofa that was free for the taking.

The conversation naturally flowed between the both of you as you caught up on new developments in the other's life that had occurred since you last saw each other a week or so ago.

Suddenly, mid-sentence, Nadia’s eyes widened as a smile spread across her face. This wasn’t any ordinary smile - it held something behind it, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

Cautiously, you turned around to look in the direction Nadia’s eyes were focused on. You breathed a sigh of relief as you saw the familiar face of her husband, instead of the face of the phantom you had once loved.

You were safe. It wasn’t him. “Babe!”, Nadia called out, but with the larger volume of people chattering, combined with the music, her call went unnoticed.

Nadia stood from the sofa with both hands cupped over her mouth as she attempted once again to gain his attention with a shout of his name.

This time it did the trick.

Abruptly, Her husband turned around as his wide eyes searched the crowd. Once he caught sight of his wife, he instantly softened with a small grin on his mouth.

You watched as both he and Nadia exchanged glances of puppy love that were still present even after several years of being romantically intertwined. This very admiration had you mesmerized - maybe a little too mesmerized in fact.

The depth of enchantment that you felt from their love kept you easily distracted, so much so that you hadn’t noticed him initially until his eyes were melting craters in your face that were impossible to not feel the burn of.

Your breath caught in your throat as your gaze and his met for the first time in so, so long.

His eyes felt both foreign and familiar all at the same time.

Unbeknownst to you, Nadia stood by your side with a grin as she watched from the corner of her eye as your mind pieced together the reality of what was happening whether you wanted it to or not. Honestly, you weren’t sure what you wanted.

Your mouth fell agape and eyes blinked rapidly, testing to see if this was your imagination playing tricks on you or if the man who once held your affection was actually walking towards you in tow of Nadia’s husband. Of course, It was the latter.

“There’s the birthday boy!”, Nadia beamed as she placed her hands on either side of her husband's face.

“You saw me like an hour ago baby.” You would’ve cooed and awed at the couple were it not for the distraction that was now standing directly in front of you with eyes that shamelessly remained in a trance that was solely for you.

Nadia and her husband both shared a mischievous smirk as they reveled in their front-row seats to your and Harry’s reunion. Not that you even thought about tearing your eyes away from Harry to take note of the not so subtle expression the couple were sharing.

“Hey! I’m so glad you could come.” Nadia’s husband greeted as he wrapped you up in a warm hug. Thankfully, this brought you out of the staring contest that Harry had trapped you in.

With closed eyes, you put on a best-effort smile as you returned his friendly gesture.

“Of course! Happy birthday.” You hoped the joy in your voice didn’t sound too forced.

“Oh, and this is for you,” you dragged your last word slightly as you outstretched the envelope in your hand in his direction.

Harry’s eyes followed your arm which was filled with new tattoos he wasn’t familiar with. He wondered what else had changed with you. Were you in a relationship? Did you have some fancy job with an even fancier apartment? Were you happy?

Were you happier without him?

“You know you never have to get me anything”, Nadia's husband spoke, breaking Harry from his thoughts that wondered if there was still a resemblance of the lover he never forgot.

Harry watched as you shrugged and said, “I know,” with a slight smile. This made him feel butterflies flapping in his stomach.

Nadia’s husband said his thanks with a final side hug and Harry found himself continuing to stare at you in your most sincerest of form. Celebrating with friends and exchanging gifts; something so deeply simple, yet watching you being wholly yourself had Harry’s heart beating so fast, he swore one would’ve seen it through his shirt.

“You always did love giving gifts.”

Three pairs of eyes turned to look at Harry after he spoke. Only then did he realize he said those words out loud instead of in the deepest parts of his inner narration.

Your eyebrows raised and your mouth slightly fell open as you took in the absolute music to your ears that was his accent and tone - it felt like pressing play on your favorite song for the second time in a row. You wanted more and more and more and couldn’t see yourself tiring of it for quite some time. The temptation to close your eyes and sway your body in complete contentment as you replayed the way his voice sounded crossed your mind. God damn it, you missed him.

Meanwhile, Harry’s eyes desperately searched his surroundings. He had to find an excuse to either leave this reunion of sorts or change the subject entirely.

Thankfully, his eyes caught sight of the empty glass in his hand.

“I’m uh-”, his hand slightly raised his glass in the air, “-going to get some more to drink.” “Help yourself, Harry. The non-alcoholic drinks should all be in the fridge in the kitchen.”

Harry nodded with avoidant eyes and turned his back to the group with a chest that breathed heavily with each step he took.

You, however, were still dwelling on the drink suggestion Nadia had directed Harry towards. “Does uh-” God, it was embarrassing. Why did you want to even ask? You weren’t supposed to care anymore.

“Never mind,” you said with a soft, yet tensed smile. “I’m a little low on my drink too. I’m going to go catch up with Harry”, Nadia’s husband spoke with his hand lovely running along Nadia’s back.

“I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

You watched as he weaved through the crowd, taking a nearly identical path to the one Harry followed toward the kitchen until he disappeared behind a group of people. Quickly, you and Nadia fall back into casual conversation, avoiding discussing the ever-present elephant in the room. You’d be lying if you said you could focus on a single conversation topic that carried on between the both of you. Your body was still very much here, but your head was deeply submerged underneath the thickest of clouds. Eventually, a party guest, that you weren’t too familiar with besides remembering their face from Nadia’s wedding and past gatherings, joined in on your and Nadia’s conversation circle. You felt a swell of relief at the fact that you wouldn’t need to maintain subpar attention on the topic being discussed. Now, you were free to get lost in your thoughts and allow Nadia and the party guest to take the lead on the discussion. Your lips met the cold of your glass as you guzzled down the remainder of your cocktail.

Thank god - an excuse to get some fresh air.

“I’m going to grab another drink and get some fresh air. It's so nice to see you again!” You cheerfully waved to Nadia and the other guests, who gave you waves and friendly smiles in return. The moment your back was to the pair, the fake smile etched onto your lips slid off of your face as your mouth pursed and a light puff of air released from your cheeks.

The walk from the bar to the outside was a paranoid one. Every unknown noise had you gazing in its direction of origin as you searched for his familiar brunette hair and green eyes behind every crevice and corner.

Thankfully, the outside proved to be a serene place. It smelled of wood smoked to ash and shimmered from the large string lights cascading across the entire backyard. The sun was nearly half set, making the sky a dark purple that perfectly paired with the easy music playing from the speakers in the outdoor space. As your eyes took in your surroundings, you caught sight of where the smell of burnt wood was coming from. Immediately, your feet carried you to the circle-shaped fire pit that was tucked in a back corner and all by its lonesome.

The warmth of a flame blanketed your body as you sat in one of the chairs strategically placed around the burning orange hue.

Once comfortably snug, you allowed yourself another deep, deep breath. This time with eyes fully closed you reveled in the peace and stillness that only the nighttime could bring.

However, your peace was short-lived as the sound of glass breaking caused your eyes to shoot open and everyone to quiet their conversations.

Quickly, your eyes searched for the source until you fell upon an image that felt eerily familiar.

A couple - a man who was inebriated times ten and a woman desperately trying to calm the man’s erratic movements and loud tone of voice. He held a once full glass, yet now was sloshed with clear liquid on himself and the ground.

The distress on the woman's face was evident as she tried to calm the man by soothingly rubbing his upper bicep and, I’m assuming, whispering words that were at the age level of how one would talk to a toddler who was throwing a tantrum.

I knew that routine all too well. The sound of the glass breaking was still ringing in your ears like a sharp knife clawing into a chalkboard, until, in the blink of an eye, you found yourself back in time. The bar was lit by only a few warm lightbulbs. The Saturday night bar crowd was in full swing as you found yourself nearly shoulder to shoulder with anyone you came across. However, Harry’s voice booming over the noise level of every other bar attendee had you briskly walking away from the bar and over to your boyfriend - well, boyfriend at the time. “What the fuck is going on?” You yelled over the music as Harry poked his finger into the chest of a man you’d never seen before. “Babe who is this? What are you doing?” Harry’s larger-than-normal pupils looked at you. You swore you could’ve seen steam coming out from the top of his head by how red his cheeks were and the flare of his nostrils. “This guy was checking you out!” he half slurred, half yelled. Your eyes moved to the guy who looked scared shitless with both of his hands pressing in front of his chest. “I swear man, I wasn’t looking at her. Swear to god” “Fuckin’ liar!”, Harry spat at the guy. “Harry who gives a fuck. The guy said he wasn’t looking,” I tried desperately to pull him by his bicep in the direction opposite of the innocent man. “I give a fuck! He was looking at you like he wanted to fuck you right in this bar for Christ sake”

“Nah man, I haven’t even seen her bef-” “If you were smart you’d shut the hell up before I make you.”

You gasped at Harry’s harsh words that were hard to hear, both due to the volume of the music, the chattering of conversation, and the amount of vodka he’d had in the last hour that made his lips move too fast for his words to get out cleanly.

“Babe please,” I whined desperately, using all of your strength to pull Harry by the arm again. However, it was no use. Harry slipped out of your grip with his glass shattering to the ground as it slipped out of his hands. You watched in horror as Harry suddenly got much closer to the man, their faces a foot or so apart, as his shoulders stood up straight in a much more defensive manner. What had started as a night of fun and drunkenness, quickly turned into Harry once again taking it too far - both with his alcohol consumption and his anger, though the two almost always went hand in hand. Tears started prickling out of your eyes as you watched Harry bump his chest against the other guy who was now squaring up to Harry and making himself look just as intimidating. He promised. He promised this would never happen again and yet it’s happened so many fucking times -more than you can even count.

Not even a brisk escape from the scene Harry had created at the bar and a cigarette between your lips could ease the pain. With your head resting against the outside brick wall of the bar, you felt your tears gently and freely roll down your cheeks as you puffed smoke from between your teeth.

That night, you remember asking yourself if you could do this forever. If you always had to be the one to pick up the pieces that Harry tore up in a drunken haze. If you always had to be the one who was strong even when you felt like the thinnest, soggiest, piece of paper that was left to disintegrate in the rain all by your lonesome.

You weren’t sure how long you’d fallen back into this memory that clearly stuck to your brain for a reason. However, you knew what brought you out of it and back to reality. His laugh was infectious and uniquely deep and hearty. There always was a slight rasp to it as well. You remembered it so damn well. Except this time, it wasn’t just a memory. It was very deeply real and current. Instinctually, your eyes searched for him in the backyard until his tall frame came into your view. Harry was standing in a group of people with that warm and amused grin on his face that always looked so good on him. You were only allowed a moment to admire his candid expression until his eyes met yours - as if you were magnetized to one another. Harry’s tongue peeked out of his mouth to briefly run along his bottom lip as his eyes focused back on the group. He spoke some words you couldn’t make out before extending his hand in a polite manner to each of the people surrounding him in the circle - as if he were excusing himself.

Then, with his left hand in his pocket, and his eyes looking directly at you, he began walking in your direction.

To be continued.

[abyssalwavezz]

ok since caleb is back i NEEDDDD to see him and zayne interact and they have like a rivalry since they’re all childhood friends in case infold doesn’t give it to me idk how it would work tho but i trust you

Fire and Ice

Author's note: I really almost went a very dark romance direction with this, but it would've needed to be multiple parts and Caleb would've been like a villain, so I did my best to condense it into a single chapter uwu plus, this is my first LADS fic, so I am really getting a feel for the characterization and what kind of storylines I want to write after so long of not writing fics.

Contains: College AU! Zayne x MC/YN x Caleb love triangle (except MC doesn't really like Caleb back) where Zayne ultimately wins over MC teehee, shameless cameos of the other boys because I can, and several time skips because yeah <3

Warnings: cursing I guess? and Caleb being kind of a creep lol but we all know he is one canonically anyway, and also this wasn't proofread because who has time for that

Word Count: 3,743

Class started at 9:00 today just like it did every other day. Today though, you were late. And of course, it was an exam day.

You jumped out of bed as soon as you realized it was 8:41. Could you get ready and make it across campus in 20 minutes?

Only one way to find out.

Had you looked at your phone, you would've realized that a certain someone had been trying to message you. But he was unable to since your phone was on DND. You were too busy throwing on clothes and making yourself look presentable to think about anything else, anyway.

Once you had an outfit on and had somewhat cleaned yourself up, you glanced at the clock on the wall.

8:53...shit.

On a good day, it took about 10 minutes to walk to this class. Today, you would have to run there in 7. If only you hadn't skipped running the mile for gym...

You grabbed your bag, keys, and phone (that you still hadn't looked at) before running out the door.

However, something very sturdy and tall stopped you halfway down the hallway.

"Oof," you grunted as you came into contact with this tall, sturdy thing.

Turns out, it was a person. The person who had been trying to text you all morning.

"Caleb! What the hell?"

You looked up at him in frustration.

"I'm trying to get to class! The one you should be in too? We have an exam!"

Caleb, who still hadn't actually spoken, only laughed as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He clicked a few things on the screen before turning it towards you.

It showed an email from your professor to your class, letting you all know that he was sick and that both class and the exam was cancelled.

It took you a few seconds to decide if you were happy or upset about the situation. Ultimately, you decided you were happy.

"If your phone hadn't been on 'Ignore Caleb Mode,' this could've been avoided," he chuckled out, putting his own phone back in his pocket.

You finally got yours out and noticed that you had, in fact, missed three texts and four calls from Caleb.

The most recent one though, wasn't from Caleb. It was from Zayne. Just reading his name on your phone made your heart skip a beat.

"You wanna go get breakfast or something?" Caleb asked, snapping you away from your Zayne-themed thoughts.

Your eyes met his excited ones, but it only took him a second to realize what your answer would be.

"Come onnnn," he groaned, tilting his head back dramatically. "Your next class isn't until 12 and mine is at 12:30. You got some big plans or something?"

You hesitated. You weren't sure how much you should tell Caleb. He could be a bit funny about things sometimes.

"I...I told Zayne I would meet him for coffee after our class. Which has now been cancelled, so he texted me asking if I wanted to meet him earlier instead."

Caleb grew silent, whatever was left of his initial hopeful expression now nonexistent.

"Oh...I see. Forgot he was in our class too."

"Caleb, come on. How about I have dinner with you to make up for it? Whatever happened with you two anyway? We all used to be great friends."

He scoffed, shoving his hands in his pockets and kicking at the floor halfheartedly.

"Don't worry about it. Go have fun, I won't get in the way."

With that, Caleb walked away.

~

You sighed as you swirled the last bit of your now cold coffee around the bottom of the mug.

"And so then he just walked away," you said quietly, still not sure what you did to deserve that from Caleb.

You looked up at the dark-haired man in front of you.

Zayne hadn't said much yet, he was just listening to you go on and on. But this really wasn't out of the ordinary for you two.

"Never mind that! Tell me about your day so far Zayne. I have really been yapping since we sat down."

Zayne lifted the corner of his mouth in a small smile, breathing slightly through his nose before raising his mug to his lips for a drink, and then setting it back down.

"I wouldn't call it yapping. I enjoy listening to you speak, and it sounds like you had an eventful day right from the start."

Your face burned slightly from Zayne's words, and you prayed he didn't notice.

"But my day before now really only consisted of some early morning studying, if you really wanted to know."

You chuckled a bit and raised your eyebrow playfully at Zayne.

"Future Dr. Zayne needs to study? We should all feel a little better about ourselves then!"

Zayne shook his head at your comment, in the way he always does when he thinks something is funny but doesn't want to show it and give you the satisfaction.

"Everyone would benefit from studying. Some of us...more than others," he said so only you could hear, glancing at the farthest corner of the cafe.

You followed his gaze and saw what he was looking at.

At the table in the corner was the well-known quiet kid, Xavier. His head was down on the top of the table in its usual position, and even from where you were sitting you could hear his signature snores.

What was really funny though, was not Xavier, but something else.

There were three people sitting across from him at another table with their phones out, taking pictures of him sleeping. Their stifled laughs and giggles were infectious, and you realized it was the class clown group of Sylus and his two sidekicks, Luke and Kieran. They truly were always getting into trouble or causing it.

You snorted and quickly covered your mouth and nose with both hands, hoping no one heard it. But of course Zayne did, and even he had to laugh quietly.

After the moment passed and it got quiet again, you decided to ask Zayne the real question that had been on your mind. The same one you asked Caleb a couple of hours ago.

"So... what did happen between you two? There must have been something."

Zayne stared into his dry coffee mug, pushing his glasses up slightly with the tip of his index finger.

"I'm not sure what you're referring to, (Y/N)."

"You know what I'm talking about. Caleb? The three of us used to have so much fun together as kids. Then when we started college together, everything got so tense a few weeks into the first semester."

"There are some things that you don't know, and it would be better if it remained that way. At least...for now."

You knew not to push Zayne. And you did trust him, so you decided to leave it alone for the moment.

Hopefully you would get to the bottom of it, sooner or later.

~

The two of you had stayed at the cafe much longer than you meant to. So you decided to go through the to-go lunch line before Zayne walked you to your next class.

You wondered if Zayne knew how you felt at times like these. Of course he was smart, but was he able to tell how you truly felt about him? What would he think? What would he say, if he knew? There's no way he would feel the same, so would he at least still want to be your friend?

Stupid.

Once Zayne had gotten his food as well, he turned towards you but stopped before he moved any closer.

"(Y/N), don't move."

You clicked your tongue in fake annoyance and put your hands on your hips, putting all your weight onto one side as you glared at Zayne.

"Why? Is there a big spider on me or something?"

"Yes."

"What?"

You immediately froze, your bag of food falling to the ground with a slight plop noise. Then you screamed and flailed your hands around, trying to brush off whatever spawn of Satan was on you.

In the commotion, you lost your balance, and fell backwards, colliding with another person. Whoever it was broke your fall, at least.

"Ouch, my hand!" the person whined underneath you.

As quickly as you could, you got up onto your feet and saw a big brown spider on the floor, scurrying away from the scene.

Huh, so Zayne really was telling the truth.

Snapping back to reality, you bent down with your hand outstretched to help the purple haired boy up.

"I am so sorry. It's Rafayel, right? Is your hand okay?"

Rafayel groaned and rubbed his right hand with his left before making eye contact with you.

"No thanks to you. I need my hands for painting, you know."

Rafayel bent over to pick up his bookbag that had fallen down, and then shot you another look.

"But I suppose that spider was a fearsome creature. You're forgiven."

Before you could apologize again, he turned on his heel and marched away.

Blinking rapidly, you stood up straight and scanned the cafeteria. As you made eye contact with people, they looked away away in a hurry. All except Zayne, who stood holding your forgotten bag of food.

"Shut up, Zayne."

"But I didn't say anything."

~

Classes were now over for the day, and you thought it was strange that you hadn't seen Caleb anymore. Usually, he was waiting outside your classrooms whenever he could, almost like he had your schedule memorized and watched you from a distance somehow. To be honest, you wouldn't put it past him. He had always been super protective of you, which you appreciated. But sometimes, it could be a bit much. Especially as you have gotten older, and are starting to feel differently and do more things on your own.

Did Caleb...like you? Is that why he has been like that? Or was he just being the best friend he could be for you?

Nah, no way he liked you. You guys were just really good friends, and had been for years. That was enough for you.

Zayne, on the other hand, often had your emotions and thoughts in a knot. You couldn't put your finger on when exactly, but you had fallen for him as more than just a friend, and you thought about him often.

Would his lips be as cold as his hands usually were?

You shook your head, trying to shake the thought itself from your brain. No sense in getting too deep. Zayne was here for school and to become a doctor. And he could have anyone he wanted, so why on Earth would that person be you?

You decided to take a walk before it got too dark. After all, it would be nice to be by yourself for a bit since the day had been so chaotic so far.

Glancing out the window of your room, you tried to plan the route you would walk. But when you did, you noticed someone duck behind the bushes nearby.

What the hell?

Now curious about who was watching you in your own room, you decided to go around the back of your dorm building to try and catch whoever it was.

Once you were outside, you crouched a bit and tried to come around the corner of the building as quietly as possible. You took each step with a sense of purpose, willing the person to still be there. The bushes were now only a few steps away.

In a flash, you lunged, separating the bushes with your hands to find out who the creep was. But there was no one there.

Defeated, you plopped down onto the grass, trying to decide if you even wanted to go for a walk anymore.

"Whatcha doing down there on the ground?" a familiar voice behind you asked.

"Caleb!"

You stood up excitedly and clasped your hands together.

Caleb bent down to your eye-level and smiled, his usual sparkle back in his gaze.

"Were you lookin' for something?"

You shook your head, looking back over at the disheveled bush.

"No, it was really weird. I thought someone was watching me from the bushes right there. It's right underneath my window. I was gonna punch them in the mouth!"

Caleb coughed.

"Yeah, that is really weird. Anyway, wanna grab dinner soon? You offered, after all."

"Oh, sure! It's gonna get dark soon anyway, so no time for a walk after all."

You walked with Caleb to the cafeteria in silence. Usually the two of you would be talking about random things, whether that be you trying to decide on a major or Caleb's newest model airplane he built. But today, it was nothing. And you didn't really like that.

"Caleb, do you care about me?"

Your sudden question startled him, the silence around you quickly dissipating. But he didn't miss a beat.

"Well, of course I do. It's about time you noticed! But why are you asking?"

"Because I feel like you're hiding something from me. And so is Zayne, and it really bothers me. Today was especially bothersome."

Caleb sighed, opening the door to the cafeteria for you.

"You really wanna know?"

"Yes! I miss the two of you getting along. We had some great times."

Caleb grabbed two empty lunch trays and handed you one. You mumbled a quick thanks as you watched his conflicted facial expression manifest.

"We just had a fight, okay? That's all. Sometimes that happens and people aren't friends anymore."

You weren't satisfied. You knew there was more to it after the way he reacted earlier when you told him you were meeting Zayne for coffee.

"You're still leaving something out."

"What, you wanna know what we fought about?"

"Yes! Maybe I can help."

Caleb shook his head, reaching for a serving spoon to get some rice.

"Hmm, I don't think so, (Y/N). Not this time. This isn't like when we argued over the last Popsicle in Grandma's freezer."

"Oh, come on. I'm not a little girl anymore. You don't have to hide things from me."

He gripped the next serving spoon tightly, causing the food on it to wobble slightly.

"I know you aren't a little girl anymore, and that's part of the problem. You don't need me as much anymore."

"Caleb," you groaned, "You know I still want you around, no matter what. I love you, you know?"

Caleb's head seemed to be on a swivel, as fast as he turned towards you.

"You do?"

"Well yeah! You're my best friend."

Caleb's face fell slowly, starting with his eyebrows and ending with his lips.

"Yeah, best friends love each other, I guess..."

You followed him out of line to the closest table where he flopped onto one of the seats.

"I don't understand, Caleb. You don't want me to love you?"

"He does, but not in the way you are referring to, (Y/N)," a male voice said from behind where you were sitting. A voice you knew very well.

"Zayne?" you gasped. "How did you know I was here?"

You turned away from Caleb to look at him fully. He wasn't wearing his glasses, and the expression on his face was completely unreadable.

"This is usually the time you eat dinner, and I was hoping I would find you here. I did some thinking after our conversation earlier and wanted to talk to you."

A sudden loud noise caused you to jump. Looking towards the sound, you saw Caleb's tight fist against the table, surrounded by stray grains of rice.

"You've got a lot of nerve comin' up to our table right now, Zayne."

"I suppose I have just as much nerve as someone who enjoys stalking women due to their own insecurities."

Caleb stood up from the table, attracting the eyes of other students sitting down for dinner.

"Um, guys. Maybe we should all go talk outside?"

You felt something cold against your hand, and then another on your cheek.

They were snowflakes from Zayne's Evol, melting against the heat of your flushed skin.

You quickly glanced at Zayne, who was completely focused on Caleb. He hadn't even realized that he was causing them to appear in his emotional state.

A few of them stuck to your eyelashes, but you quickly blinked them away, risking a look at Caleb.

He was just as focused on Zayne, his jaw set in place and his hands now gripping the edge of the table with white knuckles.

"I think that's a great idea," Caleb spat, still not breaking eye contact with Zayne.

Without another word, he stomped towards the door, bumping Zayne's shoulder on the way by.

Though you hadn't moved, you felt out of breath as you finally met Zayne's eyes.

He was stoic, the anger he felt inside radiating off of him like a heatwave.

"Sorry about the snow," he said quietly.

You shook your head.

"What is going on? This is the first time the two of you have interacted in a long time, and it's already going to shit."

"He wants you all to himself, (Y/N). And that is just something I cannot abide."

"He what? Zayne, what-."

Before you could finish, he left to walk outside as well, taking the remaining snowflakes with him.

You ignored the onlookers and the mess left on your table before following after them.

Once you had them in your sights, you realized Caleb was getting in Zayne's face, challenging him to make a move.

Your walk turned into a run so you could catch up to them in the clearing that they were in behind the cafeteria. It seemed that they were in the middle of a new argument.

"...doesn't know what she wants. How would you know, nerd?"

"You aren't right for her, and you act strangely when it comes to her. What would any sane person think?"

Caleb was getting loud, but Zayne was speaking in his usual measured tone.

"What is going on?"

The boys froze, seeing that you had followed them outside. Caleb started to back away, and Zayne cleared his throat, moving to push up his glasses before realizing they weren't there.

"Explain yourselves. Now."

They didn't start talking right away. Instead, they took a step farther away from each other and stood silently.

"I mean it. You two are acting so damn weird. I don't deserve this."

Zayne sighed.

"She's right, Caleb."

Caleb crossed his arms.

"Yeah, I know."

Zayne started speaking first.

"When we first came here, Caleb and I had a conversation. About you."

You didn't say anything, in fear of causing them to change their minds about telling you.

"(Y/N), I was going to let you know that...that I felt a different way about you now than you might've expected. And I told Zayne about it, thinking he would support me."

"Except I found out about the...peculiar ways he chooses to look out for you and protect you. And I let him know that I strongly disapprove of his intentions."

Caleb glared at Zayne once more, and you shushed him when you saw that he was opening his mouth to fuss at Zayne.

"You follow me around to classes and stuff right? I figured. And I'm now guessing that was you in the bushes earlier?"

Zayne raised an eyebrow.

"I don't need you to watch over me like a hawk, Caleb. I am a grown up, a grown woman. And I can take care of myself."

His head lowered slightly, a hand meeting his neck to rub it awkwardly.

"I know it comes from an honest place in your heart, but I need you to stop. And..."

You hesitantly reached out to touch his arm.

"I'm sorry, but you're like my brother. I love you...in that way. Do you still want to be around me?"

Caleb sighed, laying a hand over top of yours.

"You can't get rid of me that easily. I will always be around. In whatever way you want, pipsqueak." Caleb flashed you a sad smile.

You let out a nervous chuckle, glad to see that he took it at least somewhat well. Never in your life would you have expected Caleb to have a crush on you. But you knew you didn't want to lose him, no matter what.

"Zayne..." Caleb said, turning away from you and letting his hand fall away, "I'm sorry, man."

"It's alright. I look forward to moving past this with you."

Caleb nodded without speaking, and then he walked away. You decided you wouldn't call out for him since he seemed like he needed some time alone.

That just left you with Zayne and the awkward space between you.

"Zayne..." you began.

"Yes?"

"Can I ask you something now?"

A glimmer of hope could be felt, deep within the pit of your stomach. You couldn't stop thinking about something Zayne had said a few moments ago, and though this might not be the best time, you figured it was as good a time as any. If Caleb could do it, so could you.

"Anything. And for what it's worth, I am sorry too. Our behavior was inexcusable."

"What exactly did you mean earlier? When you said he wanted me all to himself? I thought you were upset with him because he chose to look out for me in unique ways."

The edges of Zayne's ears turned red, and he placed a hand against his chin, refusing to look directly at you.

"Were you...jealous, too?"

Zayne remained still and quiet, not sure what to say next.

"Because I really like you. I have for a long time. And no, I know what you're thinking...I am not just saying that because of what happened tonight. Actually it kind of inspired me to tell you."

Something suddenly caused your eye to water. You rubbed it hurriedly, then pulled your hand away to see a trail of moisture run down your thumb. But not long passed before you figured out what it was, a white speck falling in front of your field of vision giving it away as it landed on your outstretched hand.

"I wouldn't call it jealousy but..."

You shivered slightly as the snowflakes turned into a small flurry.

"I knew he wasn't right for you. And...one can have hopes."

~

[gffa]

Anyway, so, the ridiculousness continues, because I got one day of feeling amazingly Not Winded Going Up A Flight Of Stairs when, hey, guess who got whammied with the cold that's been going around my family. I woke up feeling crappy, scratchy throat, like I was a centimeter off in my own skin, etc. I'm doing better now that I've gotten some cold drinks to soothe my throat, and I do still feel better, enough to have a handyman come over and install the light fixtures + tv mount and could actually stand there and help for more than five minutes before I was sweating and needed to sit down. Also this was my third day in a row of getting blood drawn (to make sure I'm heading in the right direction), I am beginning to feel like a bit of a pincushion, but overall good. I have gotten many comments of, holy shit, you look so much better, your color is so much better, and I have to laugh each time because I must have really looked like death warmed over for the last couple of years to get that comment as often as I have! Tonight is day three of taking my anxiety meds, I can't say I've noticed a difference yet (but I'm not expecting to for a couple of weeks), but WISH ME LUCK. I was even social today and talked to people. (Genuinely, the best tip I can give for socially anxious over-thinkers like me is, when they ask, "How are you today?" answer with an honest, "I'm really nervous about all of this, but doing my best to get through it." Then, if you're too quiet or say something odd, they know you're not an asshole, you're just nervous, and it makes you human and every medical personnel I've said this to has been extremely nice about it.) Also, I just cannot get over how much my appetite has decreased, in a good way. I still get hungry, I still eat, but I'm not constantly starving for something something something, usually something "with protein" (ie, some form of red meat). I can eat half as much steak/hamburger/whatever and be satisfied now and, look, I know it makes me look like a dumbass, but my slide into this was so gradual that I just thought, "Oh, that's just how I am. I like steak a lot, many people do!" BUT NOPE. SEVERE ANEMIA WAS PROBABLY SCREAMING, "BITCH, I AM STARVING HERE, DO SOMETHING." 😂 (But, seriously, I'm so baffled at how, HEY, I AM SUPPOSED TO ENJOY THIS TIME OF FEELING BETTER, but no I had to go and get a week long cold. To be fair, after getting the flu shot and COVID booster, it could be that just as much as the cold that's going around.)

[dia-oro]

Mama dia, all I ever wish for is a imagines or head cannon of the chain with like a super motherly almost mother hen reader that just love to spoil them with affection, gift and LOTS of food to the point of them just being little round balls you know? ᵒ̴̶̷̥́ ·̫ ᵒ̴̶̷̣̥̀ It just seem so so cute to me even tho she is probably younger that some of them which surprise them at first probably (*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ)

well, I'm happy to serves! I am all for mothering reader because they deserve some affection and you know acts of appreciation to remind them they are worthy of love. :) But let's beginning! I hope you like it and sorry for answer late.

The chain with a mothering? A person that give them the acceptance and approval as well protect and encouraging them? What did you think there's going to happened? They will be all like that stray cat that everybody call feral but they are all hurt person that live traumatic after traumatic even and people at their surroundings are like 'but it's your duty' and look to the other side dismissing the links feelings well, they be really like stray- once upon abandoned animals, reader kindred burn them because they have already been hurt so much so this will be a process of patience and no losing hope...

Let start with one fine mess as legend with a mothering reader- snarkiness at 200% of power, he will try to discouraged you to be close, to care, he will be a bunny ready to beatbox you- seven adventure, losing his uncle, Marin... This man need affection with no second intentions but also fear it so bad, probably think he curse or something. So reader gentle hands curing his cuts and burn will burn more than any fireball, every gentle words make his eyes stink and just one day- slowly, silently his tone lost any fire in his remark, his bedroll got a little more close to reader, if they got to stay in a inn and they share bed to save rupees he unconscious will move his body in his sleep closer, he will be the first ready for a meal made by reader and when he hurt and needed someone to take him back to the camp he will just let his guard down the moment he feel reader arm over his back... The biggest treasure for him will be a sweater one of those ugly ones like Christmas that reader made for him- he didn't even dare to put some magic in it to protect it- because being made by reader is already magic for him.

Hyrule, another feral stray animal here- but more like that one of the videos that suffered from a severed wound or is handicap by accident and abandoned just to be save by someone yeah that type of feral animal- the distrustful one but in silence- reader is just too good and they have been hurt by smiling person so much- but a difference of legend he doesn't snark, growl or try to discourage you... He just got that heartbroken look in their eyes, so wounded and at the first sweet caress in their cheek and a goodnight kiss in their forehead? He crying till his sleep, every clap of hand and congratulations for his efforts will almost make him talk in bell like sounds like some fairy- almost transform so he can be close to you but don't be catch being so he can care for you as you care for him, sing to him to his sleep and he be purring, reader mothering is something he need because how little love he had ever feel even more- how little he is still care in his world, he may be Hyrule Hero but they don't deserve him for sure. A older reader may even be take as their parental figure that he never have and very much needed. A young one? The poor kid will wonder if this what LOVE is.

Warriors, in this house paranoid and distrust is his thing, even more with act of kindred- like you see the only person with self proclaimed 'acts of love' was Cia and you know how fucked up that was. But he will try to act as smooth he can, your dresser will be take with caution, hugs make him tense, he will try to analyze you and- he will be so confused, why you're so gentle? Why you sing lullaby to both legend and time at night?? Why you're making so much delicious food?? Somehow reader food is even better than wild, even a simple sandwich will be heaven for this man, a hug? He will adore then and got very whiny if there's no one or three per day- if reader is woman, well, congrats because reader is the first woman that make him feel safe, female affection that didn't give him a panic attack.

You know wind will start to call 'mom' or 'dad' reader right? All he have is his Grammy and sisters but reader just take him back to a time that he was safe and protected and didn't have to be the protector. Now reader is supply that role and just he notice it when he was attack and trapped and a instinct deep inside made him call for reader and the next he knew is that reader was fucking running over the head of Monsters, tearing them apart and just telling him he be okay. now he always taking you to see what he just think was cool from a bird to a insect that didn't exist in his era, reader will sing to him sometimes shanties with him, sometimes even sky join with his arp, mother hen reader is the reason the Grammy is no worry for him to go to multiverse adventures.

Sky, dear sky need all that mothering right now, he miss his fiance (I want to think sky and Zelda got to that far in their relationship, that hylia scheme for the demise endgame didn't break or weaker their relationship but make both stronger) so hugs from reader, singing duet even if they didn't sing very good will be all he needed, kisses on his forehead as goodnight or just indulge in love for wood carving and buy him a professional set to carving?? Have for sure his firstborn will have reader name for it all.

Twilight with a super mothering reader? Him?? The big brother material?! Yes, please light the weight of his shoulder that he put himself in the first place, he so use to be the role model in his village for the kids and honestly he a true role model to a good citizen in all ways- but wild give seven shite that and when know it, he trying, still trying to be like time the problem he forgot he young still too, give him love, hugs and pumpkin soup to twi, is all he needed from motherly reader, to be tell he did good that they are proud of them and even if one day they part ways is no his fault and they still be together in their hearts- this man need so much reassuring and reader is that he needed. Also reader sometimes act as if they can't do a labor so there's this Happy farmhand coming to help so happy to do some labor because is his comfort zone, let him do something that need his strength- the others links rarely need it.

Four, four don't need help- need help X4, motherly reader that know his story will constantly be over his shoulder seeing if he having a migraine, head and shoulder massages are a bless for this man, be platonic or no, he care for our reader dearly for this, even more when he realized that they never underestimate them for his height, giving him some copper and metal and this man is so hapoy- it's all about encouraging any interest he have, yummy food and I will tell you blue will never raise his voice in from reader, period.

Wild, sorry no sorry- reader will be his flora here, no matter the gender, they will be the only thing that make him be in control, mothering more firm but still loving. Want to ride a animal in the camp? Just harmless ones, encourage to do others things like painting his house, making clay thing and more to have his energy and focus on one thing that didn't put his life on danger- didn't always work but already seeing wild inviting the lord of the satori and not a fucking bear to the camp is better than the bear Alone and probably on fire.

Time, I miss my wife 2.0, he a adult, but also a traumatized one, he most time is the adult adult of the group even if he can be worse than legend and wind in his pranks, but when the moon got red in wild era sings and forcing him to look at reader all time while everybody is in safe zone, being reminded he important and love to- or just talking o what to give malón as present means a lot to him, help him with the cucos- sorry no sorry even if you're contemporary to him or minor didn't matter- motherly reader is in his mind a child of his, malon think to and what malon say is law to him so motherly reader will be mothered to.

Hope you like it <\3

[caesariawritesstuff]

Hii.... i would love a💌 love letter from Edward Nigma make him address me as my dear and or my dearest, despite the fact i believe that i am dumb and kinda unworthy of life... can you make him say that he loves me and that he loves my figure despite the lack of exercise....(sorry for the lowkey trauma dump also love your work😘 hope you have a wonderful day)

Worthy

Summary: A love letter for anonymous from Edward Nigma.

Word Count: 650

A/N: Ahh anon, I really hope you enjoy this love letter! Thank you so much for your kind words, too!

My dearest,

Gotham is still tonight. I have been pouring over my plans for Batman for the last several hours, but I find I cannot stop these distracting thoughts from bleeding into my genius mind. Everything you said from our last conversation has burrowed its way into my brilliance, and no matter how hard I try, I cannot seem to stop thinking of what you said – about your worry over your own intelligence, your figure, and how you feel unworthy.

I know, I know, I can hear your protests already. I can hear the self-doubt in your voice as it tickles at the back of your mind, begging you to argue with me. With me! But my dear, I know you worry that you are unworthy, insignificant, lesser. But to that I say: how foolish. I cannot sit here and let you agonize over such trivial things. It is utterly absurd for you to think so lowly of yourself – to think you are not worthy.

Because, my dear, you are so entirely worthy beyond belief. I cannot believe you would insult something that I cherish so deeply. That you would question my judgement, my brilliance, by suggesting that you are anything but remarkable? You have ensnared my thoughts, and I think of you at all hours of the day. No matter how hard I try to focus on my plots and ploys and schemes, you have become the center of my universe, the light in the black hole that is my life. I do not find myself wanting to solve you, to dissect you like everyone else. With you, I want to trace each piece of your soul, each edge, to memorize every imperfectly perfect detail.

And you know why, my dear? It is because I love you.

 I love you. I must say it again, and I will continue to say it over and over, until your self-doubtful words drown into nothing but silence. Whatever flaws you see, I only see perfection. I do not see failure or weakness, I see beauty. I see someone who has faced the weight of the world and still remains standing tall. I see someone who is so totally worthy of everything life has to offer, no matter how you think may you think you are unworthy of it all.

And your figure? Don’t make me laugh. What society dictates as “worthy” is subjective, a silly made-up notion. I am not fooled by such arbitrary standards and conformity that the world believes is somehow more beautiful than anything else. Your body is your own, it belongs to you, and that makes it just as exquisite and beautiful as any other. Your body holds memories of all you have been through, and it is the same body that has led you to me. I would never dream to wish for anything else.

You see, my love, you are perfect just the way you are. I know it will be difficult for you to see yourself as I do: beautiful, worthy, intelligent. Capable of taking on this world and all it has to offer. I cannot force you to love yourself, but I can show you, dedicate my life, to telling you why every day you are deserving of love and worthy of goodness in this dark world.

You are worthy of love. You are worthy of greatness. You are worthy of me.

Do not waste your breath trying to argue with me. You know I am right. You cannot outthink me, and I will not allow you to diminish your bright, lovely soul. You are mine, and that is the only thing that matters.

So, tell me: I’m a four-letter word with the power to heal. I make people stronger, and they say I’m real. What am I?

Love, my dear. It is love.

And above all else, I love you.

Always yours,

Edward

[bomberqueen17]

how it's going

yah well so. my winter of not being at the farm and instead having medical appointments is going about how you'd think, which is to say that i've run out of steam on making the medical appointments but do still have several to take care of.

i did manage to get my primary care physician to accept that i had an ADHD diagnosis (which last year she refused to help me get, but now that i have it, she's like ok cool great here's a referral for therapy). She's now prescribed me meds, and since I already tried the three major stimulant meds plus had prior (bad) experience with the one antidepressant they use, she prescribed me some weird anti-narcolepsy med that sometimes gets used. and i was supposed to start that two days ago but rite aid is still trying to get insurance approval. take a wild guess what kind of insurance i have!!

yeah united health isn't going to approve that one. so my avenues here might already be closed. but at least someone tried?

I have done a bit of sewing and a bit of exercise biking and a lot of snow shoveling (what a year). I got a mammogram and they called me right away and were like omg you gotta come back there was something weird there, and so i went back and they were like omg we gotta squash you SO flat to look at this, and i was like ow ow ow okay okay uncle and they were like yah we gotta ultrasound you this isn't good and i was like. if they have to cut my boobs off can i get robot ones???? (insert every emoji here in succession, the nine or whatever stages of grief is not enough to cover this)

and the ultrasound tech was like SO nice? and so gentle? and by then i'd been lotionless so long (you can't have lotion on your boobs before a mammogram! my dudes it is january i am a crocodile) that the water-based gel kind of stung? but it was okay and she made me wait and went and looked at the results with a doctor and came and took me aside and was like "Great news! It's nothing" and sent me home. which was like. so many ups and downs! what a wild ride! love this ending for me, this is actually the best possible ending ever.

Spent the entire next day in a vet waiting room because Chita had been peeing all over the basement. Verdict: not a UTI. But, she's got to start special kidney food. Have now spent an entire week trying to get the vet to give us the prescription we need in order to buy the stuff, somehow can't get this done, really don't know what the hell is happening.

So anyway now we just have puppy pads down in various corners of the basement, because Chita has Opinions about litterboxes that cannot be solved by simply having an array (five) of immaculate (Cat Attract(TM) litter-containing) boxes, because you see, she needs to pee NEXT TO a litter box according to some strange schedule, AS WELL AS in only SOME of them, and poo in others... Well at least it's all in the basement and she has not done this in any of the rooms where we actually live. But like. Gross dude.

In June Chita will be legally old enough to vote, though cats are not eligible to register alas, so I suppose we can just let her do what she wants since she probably knows best at this point.

Otherwise the only notable thing happening is the writing, at which i am making tremendous progress, so that's good. Therapist has been attempting to get me to form priorities and make to-do lists which is hilarious and I don't know how to convey to her that I am a feral goblin and Goals are not a thing I've ever historically managed to have, and I don't think she understands about novel-writing in particular (she was like oh you're making getting published a goal! and i'm like you don't understand how this industry works, this is a self-pub at best kind of economy and i will not be making money from this). But I am trying very hard to get a draft of this done as soon as I possibly can because I simply won't have time over the spring/summer/fall season, but I *might* have time to edit.

I've got eight chapters in the beta doc by now and having people read it and leave comments is absolutely working to keep me focused on it. <3 I can't convey enough how much that means. It is incredibly helpful. I never did make a discord or any way to discuss that so it's all gotta be in the comments but that is working for me for now. I have most of the plot hammered out and just have to like. Glue it together. So we shall see.

Except I keep letting myself get distracted doing backstory stuff so yesterday I wrote 2,999 words of literally just porn that is not in any way going to go into this novel, and i felt kind of bad about that but then I also wrote 3,914 words of action plot and cyborg dolphins (and mostly it is a guy passed over for a promotion trying to work around the incompetent they made into his manager, so like, relatable content but also with dolphins who can talk, so like, what's not to love) so I felt less bad about that.

I will include a snippet because I can.

A moment later, Mahina’s synthetic voice said “We did not find your convoy but other pod says ships that way.”  Tom nodded. “Yeah, I thought it might be too far,” he said.  “You know our range?” Mahina asked. Her vocabulary was very practical, but then, this was a major shipping lane. From the slightly greater height of the launch, he could see her better; she was large, an older female. The augmented dolphins lived longer, but she wouldn’t be old enough to remember before the treaties, he thought.  “I think so,” Tom said. “Mahina not so good at human number reckoning,” she said. “But if Ted know a pod’s range Mahina no need to try.” “Ted?” Tom said, startled into a laugh. “Is human name,” Mahina said. “It is,” Tom agreed. “Yes, I can be Ted.” “Ted,” Mahina said, with a decided affirmative whistle. The only way to add words to the brainwave-readers was for a fairly skilled human technician to do so, and one of them must at some point have been named Ted.

[farfromhome87]

Message Received- Part 4/5

Previous parts here. Inspired by @mollywog I wish you would write a You've Got Mail inspired fic

***Peeta***

Peeta holds his breath as he waits for her reply. The three dots have sprung to life and then paused three times already, as if she is considering her words carefully. Peeta’s palms start to sweat. He’s not exactly sure why the stakes feel so high. So what if a stranger he’s been texting for a few weeks doesn’t want to see him? How many times has he been ghosted on dating apps? It’s hardly the first time he’s experienced rejection. But still, something feels different with her. Her works stick with him like those burrs that latch onto your clothing when you tramp through a thick patch of woods. You try to pull them off, but keep finding them weeks, months, years later, clinging to the heel of your wool sock, tucked in the fold of your jacket’s cuff. They poke at you until you pay attention.

The phone pings and Peeta rushes to unlock it.

Bullseye Hmm if I agree to meet… how do I know you’re not a serial killer?

Peeta puffs air out of his cheeks in relief. He grins

Peeta Mellark Isn’t that what you’re looking for? You begged me to kill you the other day…😉 Bullseye True… Peeta Mellark Plus, i think i’m the one more likely to be in danger Bullseye Oh really? Why’s that?

Peeta’s glad that he’s still outside alone in his car–he doesn’t need his nosy, wiseass roommate, Finnick, seeing the uncontrollably large smile cracking across his face. He pauses just a moment before tapping out a reply.

Peeta Mellark Well first of all, I know you’re in the market for targets. Which means you have access to a fairly antiquated but no less deadly weapon.  Guess my only hope is that practicing with those off-center targets has thrown off your aim And second of all, you were the one who texted me first. This could be a targeted hit! Bullseye WOW, you’ve really thought this through. Guess someone would if they had done something to merit a hit… What was it? Something classic? Bank heist?

Peeta snorts, his fingers flying across the screen.

Peeta Mellark Um excuse me. BORING Bullseye Ah, you slept with the mob boss’ only daughter then? Peeta Mellark A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell Bullseye Is that what you are? A gentleman?

Peeta bites the side of his thumb, considering. He supposes he fits the bill in the sense that he is considerate, respects boundaries, and is well-mannered, maybe to a fault… But the term “gentleman” also feels weirdly co-opted by misogynistic assholes who think women should fall at their feet if they hold open a door or pick up the tab at dinner. 

Peeta Mellark Actually, yes. But not in a condescending way Um I hope Bullseye Quick, which Jane Austen beau best represents you?

Peeta lets out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Then he scans his mental catalog of the author’s works. He’s read most of them, but Pride and Prejudice was the most recent. And the 2005 film adaptation is one of Annie’s favorites, so it's been background noise in the apartment lately. Her and Finnick typically rewind and replay sections several times when they get…distracted. 

Peeta Mellark Ugh putting me on the spot. It’s probably Mr. Bingley

Peeta winces a little as he types it–it’s not the sexiest answer– but if you can’t be honest with the perfect stranger in your phone, then when can you be? The fact is, historically, he’s been a Bingley. Optimistic. Affable. Quick to fall in love….

Bullseye Mmm golden retriever energy. I see… Peeta Mellark Am I putting you off the meeting? Bullseye Nah I can get behind it as long as you don't jump all over me and lick my face 😜 Peeta Mellark I make no promises. Depends on if you have treats in your pockets Actually, lately I've been a little sassy. It's kinda giving Elizabeth Bennet Bullseye Well that works out. I have major Darcy vibes 

Peeta smiles idiotically at the phone, his heart feeling lighter than it has in days. They agree on a time and place to meet before Bullseye says goodbye so that she can get on her twice weekly Facetime call with her sister, Prim. It’s odd, Peeta thinks, that he knows so many intimate details about her–her deepest fears, her hopes, her dreams, even the name of her beloved sister, but at the same time he doesn’t know her at all. It feels surreal that in less than one week this all will change. 

___ ___ ___

***Katniss***

“So you’re really going to meet this guy?” comes Prim’s skeptical voice over the phone. Virtual Prim scrunches up her nose. “You, Katniss Everdeen, queen of introversion, princess of canceled plans, lady of constant solitude?”

Katniss scoffs. “Hey, I meet plenty of people. I’ll have you know I was propositioned by every single member of a bachelor party last night at Abernathy’s.”

“Ew. You know that drunk meatheads sexually harassing you at your workplace is not what I mean.” She plops her head on her hand, the giant poof of her blonde bun bobbing on her head. “It’s just–this feels so out of character. How do you know he’s not some creep?”

“Prim, he told me he’s Mr. Bingley. He didn’t even hesitate. How many creeps do you know that have Mr. Bingley at the tips of their tongue?” Katniss says matter-of-factly, as if this settles things. She pulls a few items out of the fridge so that she can wipe down the bottom shelf. Katniss can’t sit still while she’s talking on the phone–it’s either anxious pacing that gets her a noise complaint from the crotchety old man downstairs, or cleaning.

Prim still looks unconvinced. “This isn’t because of Gale, is it?” she asks quietly.

At this, Katniss lets out a snort. She swipes her cleaning rag over the white plastic surface and then replaces the contents of the shelf, wondering vaguely how she has ended up with three half-eaten jars of pickles. “Definitely not. Prim, I know Gale and I dragged things out, but that relationship was over months before it was official. We’ve been over this. There’s no one I’d rather bag a buck with, but life isn’t a hunting trip. Just because you grow up skinning rabbits with someone doesn’t mean you’re compatible romantic partners.”

The corner of Prim’s lip lifts. She looks relieved. “Yeah, that’s true.”

“Anyway, this isn’t serious.” Katniss continues. “And I don’t see how it's any creepier than a Tinder date. And… I dunno, he’s nice. And I could use a friend right now.”

Prim’s face softens. “I wish I could be there. Especially with everything going on with the woods.”

“I know little duck,” says Katniss, pausing her frenetic cleaning to look her sister in the eye. Prim looks so grown up in her Panem U hoodie over a pair of scrubs, her modest apartment in the background, the brown men’s loafers of her live-in boyfriend visible by the door. She’s doing her residency at one of the most prestigious hospitals in the country and is well on her way to becoming–in Katniss’ opinion–the best pediatrician Panem has ever seen. “You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be. I’m so proud of you. You know that, right?”

Prim gives her a long-suffering look reminiscent of her teenage years. “No, Katniss. Not once have you told me this. Not once. ONCE!”

Katniss barks out a laugh. “Yeah, yeah…”

“Look, will you just take Johanna with you or something? She can wait outside in case things go south.”

***

Johanna is entirely too gleeful the next day when Katniss broaches the subject during their lunch break. Her angular face splits into a grin so saucy they could probably serve it at the Olive Garden. The fact that Johanna is this excited sends alarm bells off in the back of her mind and Katniss immediately tries to backpedal.

“Maybe this is a bad idea–”

“This is a GREAT idea,” cries Johanna, actually rubbing her hands together in anticipation of Katniss’ inevitable mortification. Johanna puts a bracing hand on her shoulder and peers down at her through a curtain of purple tinged hair. “Plus it’ll take your mind off the hot nerd from the Conservation Department, since you seem so determined to hate him. Or on second thought, maybe it will be so terrible that it’ll drive you straight into his arms. Either way, I’m seated.”

Katniss groans, feeling her cheeks flush without her permission. “I do NOT want to think about Peeta Mellark right now.”

It’s true, she doesn’t want to think about him, especially not in the same sentence as 007. For some reason it feels weird, like the two of them can’t coexist in the same reality, like they are on separate planes in some metaverse. When Katniss tries to examine this feeling, she comes up empty. Honestly, feeling her feelings has never been her forte. At least not since her dad died and Katniss' mom sank into a deep depression that held her captive somewhere between life and her husband's grave. So that's why it's odd, these prickles of emotion, the heat that rises in her cheeks and pools in her core when she thinks of Peeta Mellark, her nemesis. And likewise, the twinge of guilt, as if she's betraying the man in her phone. The one who seems to see her soul. She just needs to meet him already, it feels like it's the only way to quell this confusing storm raging inside her.

***

Katniss lingers outside the agreed upon spot, a cozy wine bar in the regional capitol, suitably far enough from her home town that if 007 turns out to be a catfishing weirdo, she can more easily block his number and fade into obscurity. She smooths down her forest green sweater that Prim says accents her curves, and twists the end of her braid with restless fingers. She almost left her hair down flowing around her shoulders, but it seemed like trying too hard, especially since she had already done something out of the ordinary by swiping mascara on her short eyelashes. She had always wished they were long and luscious like her father's in the old photo hung over the mantle at home. And then an intrusive thought pokes her like a pesky stinging nettle–Peeta Mellark has long lashes, too. She accidentally noticed them the other day at the Hob after she chucked a cheese bun at him. Peeta had blinked those lashes in surprise and she wondered how they didn't get tangled up. Katniss rubs her temples in frustration and puffs out a breath of air. Stop thinking about him! She reminds herself.

Johanna clears her throat from her hiding spot in the alley where she has a good view of the interior through a window if she stands on a milk crate. She jerks her head toward the door and makes a “what are you waiting for” gesture with her hand. 

Katniss takes a deep breath and pushes open the heavy oak door. The sound of clinking glasses and conversation fill her ears. The place is nice, but not ostentatious. She's not surprised 007 has good taste. It's also quiet thanks to the plush cushions on the furniture and the intimate set up of the tables, nestled into alcoves, between lush potted plants. Her heart buoys thinking he clearly remembered that she gets overstimulated in a crowd. Katniss selects a small booth in full view of the window into the alley. A sweet-smelling candle is flickering on the tabletop and there is a painting of a meadow full of wildflowers on the wall. She can't stop staring at it, marveling at the way she can almost feel the wind rustling through the swaying grass and the sun on her face. Longing bubbles and fizzes in her chest, longing for her father, longing for the girl she used to be by his side in their meadow. 

Katniss shakes herself from the vivid memories, pulls out her worn copy of The Hobbit and a single dandelion plucked from the lawn outside Abernathy's, and places them prominently on the table. She smiles a secret smile feeling the candy bar in her jeans pocket, a subtle nod to their golden retriever banter. He'll surely find it hilarious. And maybe, thinks Katniss with a shiver, maybe she won't mind if he does bound into her personal space. She's surprised that the thought thrills rather than terrifies her. 

Then Katniss waits. She waits. And waits. And waits.

Every time she hears the faint tinkle of the bell above the door she perks up, adjusting the book and flower, hoping it's him. And each time it's not, her heart grows heavier.

— — —

***Peeta***

“Finnick, so help me god, if you ruin this for me I am going to tell everyone that you sleep in a silk bonnet!” Peeta grits out, casting a disparaging look at his best friend’s carefully styled bronze locks.

Finnick scoffs. “Go right ahead, I'm not ashamed of my beauty routine.” He examines his nails coyly, then gives Peeta a noogie. 

“Gah!” yelps Peeta, desperately smoothing down his hair. He actually put in effort today, used some goopy product that Rue recommended for curls. He glances nervously at the door, worried the scene Finnick is creating will draw attention. “I told you I don't need a chaperone.”

“Pfft,” tuts Finnick. “Not a chaperone, I'm your second. Y’know, like in case the “woman” you're sexting with is actually some burly catfisher and you have to duel him or something.”

“I'm not sexting with her!” Peeta protests, dropping his voice an octave on the sexting part. There's a little old lady waiting for the bus on the corner and she is giving them the hairy eyeball. “And unfortunately I left my dueling sword at home, so if you'll excuse me–”

Finnick grips Peeta’s shoulders before he can proceed, his expression sobering. “Ok, ok,” Finnick concedes. “But c'mon, man, you have to admit that you let yourself get hurt sometimes. You always dive in head first with that big ‘ol heart of yours.”

Peeta rakes a hand through his curls out of habit, wincing as his attempt at looking dapper is foiled. “Yeah, I know…but this one's different,” he says, rocking up on his toes, a nervous, hopeful current buzzing in his veins. “I can feel it.”

Finnick still looks skeptical, but he doesn't push it further. He's a dick sometimes, but at the end of the day, he's a great friend. “Ok, Peet. But at least let me take a look first.”

Finnick ambles over to the open door through which a welcoming amber light spills onto the darkening sidewalk, and peers inside.

“She’ll have a book with her,” mutters Peeta, wiping his sweaty palms on his dark wash jeans. “And a flower. A dandelion.”

Finnick stares for so long, and with such a curious expression on his face, that Peeta wonders if it actually is someone duel-worthy.  Finally, Finnick gives a low whistle. “Well, she's pretty, that's for sure.”

Peeta waves the comment off impatiently. He already knows this. Her beauty transcends the bounds of his shitty, outdated iPhone. It’s wrapped up in her words, the funny little expressions she uses, the way she can be poetic one moment and then snarky the next. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt chemistry like this with anyone, except maybe, well…Peeta’s stomach somersaults as a flicker of silver and a sweep of a dark braid flash in his mind and then shimmer away like butter in a hot griddle. Peeta coughs as if he can physically dispel this ridiculous notion from his body.

“Harmless then,” he says, attempting to push Finnick aside. Enough is enough.

Finnick resists, still looking mystified. “Well, I wouldn’t say harmless,” he chuckles.

“Ok, this is getting ridiculous. I'm a grown ass man.” Peeta dodges Finnick with the practice of a former star wrestler and launches himself at the door. Then just as quickly, he is reeling back, his eyes wide as cinnamon rolls. “Is that–?”

“Katniss Everdeen,” they say together.

Both Peeta and Finnick are silent for a long time. The old woman on the corner gets onto the bus and it belches a cloud of putrid fumes as it drives off. Finally Peeta scrubs a hand over his jaw and breathes, “Well, shit…”

Emotions are raging inside Peeta at the speed of weather changes in the mountains. First shock, then gut wrenching disappointment, then disgust, then relief? And then, at last, he lands on anger. White hot anger. And somehow that feels like the only emotion he knows how to handle in the moment. When he is fired up like this there is no chance of anyone stopping him, so he easily sidesteps an alarmed Finnick and marches into the wine bar without so much as a glance behind.

She’s at his favorite booth, the one with the wildflower painting. Because of course she would choose that one. How infuriating to realize that your rival has a chilling psychic power over you, that she can see inside you, instinctually know your likes, your dislikes…Is this how she has been pushing all his buttons?! 

Peeta skids to a halt in front of the table and slides into the booth across from Katniss, mastering his rage and training his face into a smirk. He drops his eyes to the bulging pocket of her jeans. “Is that a Snickers in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” he says smugly.

Katniss gasps. The shock in those sharp silver eyes tells him this was not a targeted catfishing exercise. She has no idea that the man in her phone is him. But she quickly composes herself, folding her arms across her chest in a way that pushes up her small, pert breasts and instantly draws his traitor eyes. Peeta blushes, feeling like she has already scored a point against him.

“Ugh gross,” she bites out. “It's an inside joke. For my friend.”

Peeta feigns nonchalance, digging his hand into the bowl of complimentary popcorn in the center of the table and shoving a handful into his mouth.  “Kind of rude for your friend not to show up.”

Katniss narrows her eyes. “Kind of rude for you to speak with your mouth full,” she retorts, not missing a beat.

Peeta doesn't react, which only serves to annoy Katniss more. “What's he look like?” he asks her, glancing around the bar. “Maybe he just doesn't see you tucked away in here.”

Katniss flushes a delicious shade of strawberry and Peeta chalks one point up for himself. “I don't,” she starts, “I don't know.” She holds her head aloft proudly, but doubt flashes in her eyes. She looks so vulnerable for a moment that he almost feels bad about twisting the knife.

“You don't know?” repeats Peeta incredulously. “What do you mean? Is this some kind of blind date?”

“No!” she says too quickly and the attractive bloom of pink stays painted on the apples of her cheeks. Her cheekbones are so high and sharp that they look like they could cut glass. “It's just…a-a pen pal.”

Peeta plants his forearms on the table and leans toward her, trying to throw her off balance by the proximity. This ends up backfiring, however, because he catches the scent of her hair and it transfixes him with memories of spring. There's no other way to describe the earthy freshness, the subtle notes of cherry blossoms. “A penpal?!” he scoffs, sitting back against the plush backrest and attempting to get a grip on himself.

“Don't you have a PhD or something? she hisses through tight lips. “Do you really only have the capability to repeat back what I'm saying like a giant, bespectacled parrot?” 

Peeta can't help it. He barks out a laugh, pushing his black-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Touche,” he allows. “But you gotta admit, I think not many of us have had a penpal since the third grade.”

Katniss just harrumphs, crossing her legs and looking defiantly at the door, refusing to meet his eyes. She looks nice in her fitted green sweater and wide-legged black slacks, and there's something so oddly charming about how those worn leather hunting boots she always wears are peeking out from the hems. It's just so her. 

“Maybe he got caught in traffic,” Peeta suggests mildly, turning around to follow her gaze toward the completely empty street.

Katniss makes an irritated growling noise in the back of her throat. There's no traffic out here in West Panem. Ever.

“Or he got kidnapped by a gang of mountain trolls,” he grins, nodding cheekily at the copy of The Hobbit on the table. Her eyes flash and she pulls the book toward her possessively as if Peeta is sullying it with his razzing.

“I know what you're trying to do, ok?!” snaps Katniss. “Trying to make me feel like some kind of undesirable loser for getting stood up.”

Peeta’s grin drops. Shit. It's fun teasing her–it’s so easy, and well, she looks cute when she’s mad–but he never meant to make her feel small. That familiar voice pipes up in the back of his mind and ice fills his veins. Peeta, you worthless thing. Katniss is scowling at him, but it’s not her usual one. She looks almost defeated. And Peeta reminds himself that the restrictions on activities in the nature preserve are set to go into effect next week. He also reminds himself how he would feel if he were the one sitting here with a raw, open heart thinking Bullseye had rejected him.

“Katniss, no, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean–”

But before Peeta can beg her forgiveness, a smooth baritone that sounds uncannily like his own cuts through the air. “Peeta bread!” the voice cries delightedly. “I didn’t know you had a date?!”

Peeta blanches. Oh dear God. Rye. He’s not supposed to work tonight. It’s his business partner Thom’s night. Peeta checked the schedule! He checked that list twice, Santa Clause style.

Katniss’ head swings around so fast that her thick braid nearly knocks over her glass of water. She peers up at Rye distrustfully, her eyes flickering to Peeta's, then back again, clearing clocking the family resemblance. “This is not a date,” she says icily.

He winces at her tone. Would it really be that bad to be on a date with him? 

Rye just looks confused. He raises his eyebrows at Peeta. “Oh sorry, he just has a type–”

“Jesus, Rye,” grimaces Peeta. He wants to melt onto the floor and seep into the wine cellar. “Katniss is everyone's type,” he mumbles, stealing a glance at her. The crease between her eyes deepens and he hopes she doesn't think he's still messing with her.

Fortunately, Rye recovers himself and turns on the Mellark charm that Peeta normally has in spades, but seems to abandon him everytime he finds himself in Katniss' presence. Rye spreads his arms wide, now the picture of a debonair wine bar owner. “Well, any friend–er–” he shoots another bewildered glance at Peeta when Katniss' scowl intensifies, “acquaintance of Peeta's is an, um…acquaintance of mine. I'm going to have the kitchen send out a complimentary cheese plate and a bottle of our best red. Do you like Pinot Noir?”

Katniss' ears perk up at the mention of cheese and her stomach gives an audible grumble that Peeta pretends not to notice. She pauses before admitting, “It's my favorite.” She gives Rye a tight, concessionary smile as if to say, you seem nice enough, it’s not your fault your brother makes me want to run headlong through the plate glass window at the front of this bar.

Rye grins. “Well then you're going to love this.” Then he launches into a detailed description of the wine’s silky tannins and complex flavors, including the hint of baking spice that you get when you age it in French oak barrels, a nod to the family baking business.

Katniss looks bemused. The same expression that Peeta gets when Rye waxes philosophical about wine and that Rye gets when Peeta yammers on about biodiversity in broadleaf forest ecosystems. He notices there are specks of gold in Katniss’ right eye that catch the flicker of the candle light, just the right eye. Why can’t he stop staring?

“You know a lot about wine,” says Katniss generously, seemingly trying to make amends for her curtness earlier. 

Rye puffs out his chest. “Well, kind of comes with the territory. I co-own this place.”

“Oh, wow,” she replies, sounding actually impressed. Peeta feels a tug of pride deep in his chest that she approves of the place he selected for their first meeting. But then that heady tug suddenly feels like a trapdoor opening when he remembers that Bullseye is gone. It’s only Katniss Everdeen left. The most dizzyingly desirable yet utterly out of reach woman he’s ever known. “It’s a really nice place,” she says, gesturing to the decor with her olive hand–small, but sinewy, like she could definitely send an arrow sailing through his heart with ease…and perhaps already has. “I love the artwork.”

“Thank you!” says Rye warmly. “Most of the paintings are Peeta–”

Peeta’s eyes widen and he shakes his head at Rye, swiping his hand discreetly across his neck in the universal sign of “abort!”. Rye cuts himself off with an unconvincing hacking cough. Katniss’ shrewd eyes snap to Peeta’s  face and he avoids them. Will she remember that first conversation? The one where he said he was a painter? Even if she did, she probably thought he meant painter as in, house painter, commercial painter, right? Peeta swallows thickly, feeling her retina’s burning into his skin.

“Rye,” Peeta says, through gritted teeth. “How about that cheese plate, huh?”

Rye takes a hint and scurries off to the kitchens, leaving Peeta and Katniss alone, an unbearable silence stretching between them. The booth suddenly feels impossibly small. He shifts his bad leg into a more comfortable position and inadvertently grazes her knee with his. A flush creeps up his neck.

“So….Peeta Pie…” says Katniss, finally breaking the awkward silence. He’s surprised to see that her scowl has been replaced by a little smirk.

Peeta groans and pulls his hand down his mouth. “Bakery humor, you know? I come from a long line of bakers.” 

“Guess that explains the stuff you’re bringing to Hazelle at the Hob.”

“Yep!” he confirms.

Katniss presses her lips together, then says, “I don’t know why, but I just never pictured you as a baker.”

Peeta smirks and places his arms on the table in front of them, flexing shamelessly so that the outline of his biceps will strain at the fabric of his blue button-down, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. “Ah, I guess you think I’m too cut to be a baker’s boy, is that it?”

Katniss snorts and rolls her eyes. Peeta immediately regrets it.

What a dickish gym bro thing to say?! He has never, not once in his life, flirted so terribly. He had more rizz as a 16-year-old than this! Sure… he works out his upper body a lot more than he used to, he supposes his physique must look ok. But he has to, he needs to use his arms a lot more than he used to. When the prosthetic is off it’s surprising the strength you need to maneuver around. And maybe, says a voice that sounds oddly like his psychologist, Dr. Aurelius, you worry about your physical attractiveness more than you used. You wonder whether anyone finds you desirable, and that’s why what you just said is a cry for help, a need for reassurance?

The look of revulsion Katniss is giving Peeta mirrors his internal monologue. He has to fix this! He casts around for a topic that will neutralize the situation, something they can’t possibly disagree on. His eyes land on the book.

“What’s your opinion on the decision to excise the scouring of the Shire in Peter Jackson’s interpretation of the Return of the King?” he asks suddenly. 

Katniss blinks at him. “Huh?”

“C’mon, are you going to tell me you’re ok with the film completely leaving out the impact of war on Hobbiton? That it only shows war as some epic battle of elves and dwarves and men and not one of the common people?” Peeta raises his eyebrows at her expectantly. She still has her eyes narrowed, but she’s leaning in now. He knows she won’t be able to resist.

Finally Katniss blurts out, “And it totally sidesteps the commentary on industrialization!” The words come tumbling out of her mouth so fast that even Katniss looks surprised by them. She claps a hand over her mouth.

Peeta and Katniss stare at each other for a long beat, and then suddenly, they both erupt into laughter. It’s that kind of delirious laughter that you only get after unbearable tension. The kind of laughter that makes your eyes stream and coaxes the most unattractive and uncontrollable wheezing, snorting and gasping noises from the depths of your belly. The kind of laughter that wraps you up in a cozy, giddy blanket until you forget every painful thing.

A few moments later, Rye returns with a cheese plate (which Peeta notes is definitely custom made at twice the usual size) and two generous pours of the specialty Pinot. He gives Peeta a subtle wink before disappearing as quickly as possible. Katniss and Peeta dig into the platter, suddenly ravenous.

Now that the ice is broken, the conversation flows like water out of a washed out dam. They have the same taste in books (though Peeta knew that already) and music (though Katniss says he leans too heavily into sad-boy indie pop of the early aughts). And to Peeta’s delight, she tells him more about her sister, Prim, clearly the most precious person in the world to her. It feels like a gift to be trusted with those memories. Then Peeta makes Katniss laugh, recounting the time he and Rye played a prank on their big brother, Bannock, leaving “evidence” of a mouse all around the bakery, sending him on a Tom and Jerry-style wild goose chase to exterminate the ever-elusive pest.

It’s nearly 10 pm when their conversation falls into the first lull in hours. They have had second and third glasses of wine, a fact that left Katniss in stitches over his impossibly rosy cheeks, while she seemed cool, calm, and almost entirely unaffected. She tells Peeta she’s got stamina thanks to the drinking habits of her friend-of-the family, Haymitch–a  person too irresponsible to be a surrogate father (her dad was killed in a workplace accident when she was eleven), but too close to be without a family title. Her and Prim have always called him “uncle.” The wine bar has emptied out and the ambient noise around them has subsided to a dull hum.

Peeta casts another glance toward the open door. A cool evening breeze rustles through the leaves of the Monstera near the host station. “Guess your friend’s not coming, huh?”

Katniss pinches the bridge of her nose and looks down at the crumbs of chocolate fudge cake on her plate. She doesn’t look angry anymore, just so tired. “Just–don’t Peeta. I don’t need your gloating.”

Peeta holds up his hands in defense. “I’m not,” he tells her firmly. “I swear, I’m not. Listen…” Peeta pauses, searching her face, feeling her eyes lift to his like gray stones falling into the blue depths of a lake. “Anyone who would stand you up is making a serious mistake.”

Katniss blinks. She looks like she’s trying to figure out whether he’s being a prick or not.

“Big mistake. Huge,” assures Peeta, evoking Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.

The reference earns him a half smile. She shrugs. “I should go.” Katniss begins rifling in her purse for her wallet, and before he can stop himself, Peeta puts a hand out to still the motion. He marvels at the way his fingers encircle her entire wrist, at the feeling of her heartbeat quickening in the delicate veins at the base of her palm. She gasps.

“It’s on me,” he says softly. 

Katniss doesn’t jerk away like he thought she might, but she shakes her head. “No way.”

“C’mon,” says Peeta. “It’s the least I can do after barging in and ruining your evening.”

“You didn’t–” Katniss cuts herself off and sighs deeply. “Peeta, I can’t. I have a thing about owing people.”

The corner of Peeta’s lips lift up in a hopeful grin. “Okaaaay,” he drawls. “Then buy me coffee at the Hob sometime?”

Katniss scrunches up her nose as she considers this. Her pulse thrums against the pads of his fingers. “Fine,” she relents, snapping the clasp on her purse closed. 

Peeta tries not to feel devastated as she stands up from the table and slips out of the booth. He releases her wrist and she immediately covers the spot where his fingers were with her other hand, caressing the soft skin in the way he wants to do. There’s an unreadable expression on her face. Confusion? Resignation? Or…could it be, longing? Pull yourself together, man, Peeta chastises himself. You’re projecting.

He stands up, too, and breathes, “So, see you around, then?”

“Well, seeing as I’ve got a debt to pay now…guess so,” Katniss snaps, but there’s something softer in her tone, something less cutting in her scowl. “Tell your brother I said thank you for the lovely meal.”

Katniss spins on her heel and glides toward the door with that soft footfall like one of Tolkien’s elves walking atop the snow. Before she crosses the threshold, she throws her head back over her shoulder, braid cracking like a whip, and calls, “Your coffee order is shit, by the way. Peeta bread.”

And then she steps out into the street and fades into the night.

[redcamellia13]

What the. What the actual hell. I- could somebody explain to me how the heck a throw-away blog made just over two months ago has somehow amassed 1,000 likes?

Just like last gratitude post, I’m so sorry if I seem like I’m dissatisfied or disappointed with this milestone, it’s simply because I’ve run out of ways to express how thankful I am.

😅😅😅😅😅

I’m really not sure how to express my gratitude anymore, so I’m going to begin listing all of my strongest supporters.

Yes, that’s you, @theducklord5, @aheartfullofquestions, @musicalmoritz, @frogwithaflowercrown, @blondesillyboylover, @itzyukoo, @lavender-peach-tea, @neversam, @nam-the-nacho and probably several others I am neglecting to mention (sorry! Please bear with me, my sanity’s hanging on my a thread- I’m basically running on caffeine and sugar)

I am so, so grateful to all of you for your help and patience with my spotty upload schedule, and generally low quality posts. Seriously, how do you people still support me despite my never ending struggle with constant reblogs, unoriginal ideas…

Nevertheless, I am still just in awe of this huge number. I think I’m going insane!

Now, onto the blogs that are the standard I hope to live up to, the people that are so kind, passionate, respectful, intelligent, and charismatic you sort of have to question if they’re real. (I mean that in a good way.)

I hope to have reflected some of your wonderful qualities in my own posts, and I sincerely hope you understand my pure admiration for you all.

To @god-damnit-vinne, how could I start this dedication with anybody else? The amount of charm and enthusiasm that pours out of your posts is astounding, and you are actually my first Tumblr… friend(?) Mutual? I still remember when you replied to my post, the first I had ever received- it made me so happy I spent the rest of the day smiling until my face hurt. Honestly, you are the one of the nicest guys I’ve met, period.

To @pollen-blogs, we probably aren’t exactly friends, but I do hope you remember my username. Your writing style is so clear and crisp, it makes your posts and fanfics simply fun to read! Also, your art is impeccable- truly, the whole package.

To @sakuraswifee, I am simply in awe of the amount of passion in your posts. I’m not sure if passion is the right word, but reading your posts always brings a smile to my face since you always seem to love what you’re talking about :).

To @thelunarfairy, I realize that you definitely don’t know me, but I certainly know you. Your posts and analyses are the gold standard in my mind, something all my other posts should live up to, and the way you state things makes it so easy to understand.

To @itzprismosblog, you were the second interaction I’ve had on Tumblr. You probably don’t remember, but it gave me motivation to keep posting, since at the time I was getting used to an extremely demanding new routine. Your art is stunning, and your blog never fails to make me laugh :)

To @cupidsappllie, even if your blog wasn’t one of the most entertaining I’ve seen here on Tumblr, you would probably make it here on kindness alone. If I had to shoot a guy every time you single handedly pulled me out of a posting slump, I would be arrested for murder.

To @saturnssky, my second Mutual on Tumblr. Everything on your blog feels so genuine, like I’m sitting across from you at a cafe having coffee together, and it’s this wonderful feeling of closeness that I feel really makes your blog special, and it’s something I can only hope to replicate. Additionally, you’re one of my greatest supporters, so I’m so thankful for your unending patience.

To @ocelotlesbian, merely interacting with you online has sometimes made me happier than I have been during the entire week. The way you write feels like I can hear your voice flowing through your posts, and you just seem like a nice person I’d be lucky to befriend in person.

And to all the people that didn’t get specific mentions but have still supported my blog in any way, please know I am still so thankful for everything you’ve done.

My head is still spinning from the realization that I’m not just screaming into the void anymore, people are actually seeing what I’m writing.

As always, here’s to more poor writing, badly constructed theories, and character analyses that make no sense.

[blujayonthewing]

pitched battle inside my brain between the part of me that's desperately shaking myself by the shoulders going "YOU HAVE GOT TO ACTUALLY LIVE THE KIND OF LIFE YOU IMAGINE INSTEAD OF JUST SITTING AROUND IMAGINING IT UNTIL YOU DIE!!" and the part of me that's clutching my face going "is this allowed? is this allowed?? is this allowed???"

[mars-ipan]

fucking hell i hate being sick so much

[rosicheeks]

-

[microwavetoaster-selfships]

I've been thinking and. Should I just. Merge my blogs and put everything here. Cause at first I made seperate blogs because I didn't want to bombard everyone with nonsense every couple of months about some new characters I found so I kept making seperate blogs especially cause I didn't anticipate it happening again and again but now I'm like. Should I just stick everything under this blog. Or at the very least cut it down to two blogs where I have this one and the second one can just be for my every couple of monthly nonsense where I spew about whatever I found.

[skyborneveggie]

The older I get the more I realize how actually fucking crazy my parents were. And the more I feel bad for my sister, who still lives down the street from them.

Like I planned a sisters day out in the desert, & my mom got SO paranoid she ordered my dad to insist on going with us, and if we refused, to follow us the entire way (2 hrs) in his fucking car against our consent. And my sister didn't even realize how inappropriately obsessive this is, she just rolled her eyes and was like "typical Mom." Everyone was treating me like I was being a spoilsport for being mad about it & not just letting it go.

I am 30 years old. I have zero patience to be dealing with this kind of infantilizing bullshit anymore. This is why I moved far away in the first place.

Tldr; having your adult children who do no even live with you tailed against their consent is fucking nuts.

[smile-files]

today i'm going home so i can get my flu shot and vote with my family... hopefully both go well

[kyofsonder]

Life, aiming a loaded crossbow at me: I'm sorry. You were involved in the decisions that led to this, but you can't know whether they're worth it until everything is done. This is the first step. Endure it as best you can.

Me, shot with the crossbow bolt: [looks down and sees a label tied to the bolt that reads "metaphor for stressful situation"] Ow. Thanks for the warning, I guess? At least it's the only thing I'm getting shot with for a good while.

Life, reloading several bolts into the crossbow at once: Have you ever heard of speed shooting?

Me: I want it to be known that I resent this.

Life: Noted. [shoots me multiple times in quick succession]

Me, on the floor and stuck full of crossbow bolts all over my body: Recovering from this is gonna suck.

[vampiremourning]

oh im gonna hsdgfjk

okay so three+ months ago i discovered I had a Fun Condition called perioral dermatitis. basically, just this Extraordinarily persistent face rash that looks like a bunch of small pustules in a circle around my mouth, but it also went around my nose and eyes. reacts to literally fucking Everything, deeply annoying to treat, even with antibiotics it takes weeks but usually months to clear. causes are ?? can be anything from inhaled steroids, face cream, toothpaste, hormones, etc. basically impossible to pinpoint. i have some guesses about what triggered it but ofc no real way to know for sure.

i go on 90 days of antibiotics. cool, whatever, condition dissipates but doesn't go away entirely. i think nothing of this bc I know even With oral antibiotics, it can still take months.

halfway through this treatment i develop arthritic symptoms. i also think nothing of this bc I have Some sort of illness undiagnosed anyway + family members have it so while I am definitely not happy w this development, I'm resigned.

i finish the pills.

less than 24 hours later, dermatitis has Returned. i know that allowing this to happen makes it worse and last longer. i cannot stress enough how bad it will be for my mental health if this happens. yes this probably sounds overly dramatic but I'm pretty sure watching my face flare up in any way is a legitimate trigger atp after dealing with cystic acne.

anyway. i book an appointment with my gp bc the pharmacist cannot refill the antibiotics. great except the appointment is at the End Of The Month, and I know this is going to be bad in a few days time. like, in the last few hours the inflammation has already accelerated, who knows how bad it'll be then, I'm assuming it'll be like I never even took the pills to start with. i am going to have a nervous breakdown.

mysteriously, the arthritis symptoms have Also started to decrease after stopping the antibiotics. that's weird, I think, that wasn't brought up in the list of side effects when I asked, but the timing is literally exactly when my face started flaring up so I know I definitely don't have those in my system anymore. i look this up, to see if there's a link.

'''acute polyarthritis''' also described as 'drug-induced lupus' are you Fucking Kidding Me

so i am now back as Square Fucking one for this shit, my skin is about to be so goddamn inflamed & I apparently can't even take the drug that was working to clear it up. because it causes inflammation in my joints.

and like i cant really express properly how mad this makes me lmfao because of Course. i spend a solid year on Accutane finally after being deterred for nearly a decade, i get maybe 4 months of enjoying my skin after I'm off of it and then This Shit. can i win?? can i Fucking win??????? no one else in my genepool seems to deal with this shit its just me and ohhh my god i am This close to walking straight into the ocean.