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promptseverlark · 2 years ago

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Movie Star Peeta Mellark

A short story from this prompt.

"Johanna and Katniss, watching a movie starring Peeta Mellark, a former high schoolmate." AO3 FFN

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"Damn, Peeta's really good at this shit," Johanna says as she gets another handful of overpriced cheesy popcorn from the bucket between us. We're on our monthly movie night, and tonight we're watching "Forever Amore" featuring Peeta Mellark and Delly Cartwright. Both are young superstars in their early twenties. Peeta from our district and Delly from the Capitol.

"Seriously, had I known, I would have cornered him under the bleachers in Panem High. Bread boy makes kissing feel like having an enormous orgasm," Jo loudly whispers in my ears.

Good thing it's nighttime as we watch this romantic film in the town square because there is no way Jo wouldn't notice the hot flush on my cheeks. Watching Peeta Mellark and Delly Cartwright kiss passionately under the sunset stirs up my insides like a tornado. It causes a slight pinch on my lower abdomen as it twists like a spring.

I sigh heavily as Peeta finally releases Delly's plump red lips and leans his forehead against hers. He keeps his eyes closed as he inhales the moment and cradles Delly's face between his big hands. Having made three romantic movies with Peeta in just two years, Delly's the luckiest girl in all of Panem.

Who would have thought that Peeta Mellark, the quiet boy from our old high school, would become a famous Capitol heartthrob? He can make any girl on screen desirable with just one movie. And honestly, every girl wants to be desired by him.

Maybe even, including me.

I have got to get a hold of myself.

I guess it's in the way Peeta looks at his on-screen love interest. Those brilliant and kind blue eyes penetrate your heart, soul, and in Jo's terms, also your panties. I didn't know that the human eye could speak so much and induce less than wholesome bodily reactions. One wink from Peeta equals fifty fans losing consciousness in a massive crowd.

Apart from his eyes, it's also the way he delivers his lines with such intense emotions and perfect timing. He has such a way with words. I find myself wanting to catch his every line, every nuisance in his intonations, and maybe even every breath. A sigh from Peeta Mellark is felt by the whole viewing population. It's evidenced by the collective exhales and sniffles I hear around me now as he breathlessly runs after Delly Cartwright under the rain by the seashore. His partly open plump lips and rain-soaked shirt glue everyone to the screen. Everyone craves the tension and revelation of his muscles from his white Henley clinging to his skin. We all wish we were the love of his life so we could indulge in him to no end.

Wait, did I just think that? Breathe, Katniss. Breathe.

Peeta has always had that boy-next-door face that everyone finds endearing. Well, he wasn't popular like our football quarterback and prom king, Cato Mitchell, was popular. But I never heard a single bad word said about Peeta Mellark. He's a good guy, and the few times our eyes chanced upon each other in the hallway, he always offered me a shy smile.

"I hope there's more than just mind-blowing smooching in this film." Jo scans the lot, always on the lookout for couples to make fun of. "I think babies will be made after this movie. Look at Thom and Bristle over there. They're practically on top of each other now."

"You want some chocolate bar?" I ask pathetically, uncertain how to follow that comment. I avoid looking at Thom's truck as Jo grabs the nut bar and takes a hefty bite.

"At least let Delly take Peeta's shirt off or something. Bless us with those broad shoulders and delicious V sloping down his powerful hips," she adds in between chews.

Jo is practically eating her fill of Peeta Mellark with her wide-set brown eyes, much like all the other girls in this square.

I can't blame them, though. Peeta's musculature is not some Capitol creation. It's all him from years of joining the wrestling team and working endlessly at the bakery. He can throw hundred-pound flour bags over his head as if they were nothing. I've seen it many times when I pass by the bakery. He was beautiful to look at, even from afar.

The one year that Peeta Mellark wasn't the champion of the wrestling competitions was because his brother, Rye, was the team captain. Once Rye graduated, Peeta won medal after medal in every season, as he should have been. I've always noticed how he pulls back on his games for his older brother, anyways.

After our simple high school graduation, Peeta Mellark just dropped from the face of District 12. Nobody knew where he went, and his family was oddly mum about it. Even his profusely chatty brother, Rye, didn't offer an answer.

There were many speculations on Peeta's disappearance. One was that his mother finally got to him, and he ran away. Another was that he was secretly married to another girl in District 2 for financial gain. I didn't want to believe the many speculations but three years of him being gone made me think about him a lot. I worried about Peeta Mellark. Dare I say, he was always on my mind.

"There, he finally caught up with her! Damn, Delly, why are you running away from bread boy?"

Jo's not really speaking to me, she's just a talkative moviegoer. I'm glad for her, though, because she's the only female friend I have, and thankfully she's also a fan of Peeta Mellark. It's comforting having someone to talk to about him. Even if all we talk about are his movies and gazillion paparazzi photos.

"Thunder and lightning! This is going to be good! Trapped in a cabin until the storm passes trope!"

"Ssssshhhh …," Marvel McGee shushes beside us, and Jo flips him off.

Peeta has never gone back to District 12 since he left. Two years ago, the mystery of Peeta's disappearance was answered when he unexpectedly appeared in a movie trailer as a supporting actor to superstar Finnick Odair. We were all taken aback by the baker's youngest son being on TV. Every movie house across all the twelve districts in Panem had his poster on the wall, surrounded by brightly twinkling lights. It was very surreal seeing his face everywhere but having no chance to talk to him at all. Peeta Mellark became an unreachable dream instead of an immediate reality overnight. I don't know if I cried the whole night out of joy or sadness when I saw his poster.

Assumptions about his discovery were the talk of the town the day after. Ripper said that an agent chanced upon Peeta while he was decorating cakes at the bakery and was offered an audition slot at the Capitol immediately. Leevy pressed that an agent watched him knead bread dough and was captivated by his quiet charisma. Then Darius insisted that he saw Peeta stopped in the middle of the square and given a calling card by a high-class Capitolite lady. There were more odd stories at the Hob. Town folks said he was asked to read a horror script in the cemetery or recite a poem to a squirrel under a crabapple tree. The butcher said he performed a Seneca Crane impression from his "Maid in Panem" romantic comedy. Either way, Peeta got a call the day after graduation from an agent, and the rest was history. He's been making movies, advertising soap and hair products, appearing on talk shows like Good Morning Panem, and winning awards ever since. Caesar Flickerman is practically his best buddy every time he has a film coming up.

"Oh, look! Look! They're entering the beach house, brainless. This is going to be good!" Jo half whispers, half shouts as she rubs her hands together in delight. "Please take each other's clothes off ... Please take each other's clothes off ..." Jo is practically praying to the movie gods.

I swallow the nothingness in my mouth as the scene pans out before me. Peeta and Delly are drenched from running in the rogue thunderstorm, and the beach house where they find refuge only has dim lights when they enter. Peeta lights up a few candles before walking towards the fireplace. If Jo is correct, it's where they will make love for the first time in this best friend-to-lovers movie.

Peeta has never had any actual sex scenes before. It was always implied that he and his co-star did the deed after some creative editing of kissing scenes and wild touches. A hand on the hips while gripping skin always clues in the audience. Multiple camera angles of a passionate kiss make us hold our breath. Then there's the occasional removing of shirts or unbuttoning them slowly while Peeta's lips migrate to his co-star's neck and ears. It all makes you wish you were the one on-screen receiving his lips.

The definitive allusion to lovemaking is when Peeta and his lover go down on the bed. In his first movie, it was in the back of a red Honda Accord. It was tasteful and fitting for the enemies-to-lovers storyline. On his second, it was over a blanket by the meadows in District 11. The meadow scene was more beautiful in my eyes. It was so Peeta to be gentle and hopelessly romantic with his beloved.

When the lights begin to fade out, and romantic music plays louder and louder, we know that the director will close the door and stop our paid viewing of the passionate lovemaking that will ensue between Peeta and his love interest. Secretly, I'm thankful when this happens because I don't know if I'll be able to continue watching Peeta making love with his co-star. Even if they weren't real they would all be too much for me to bear.

"I read in the Mockingjay feed this morning that this movie has a long kissing scene. Much longer than usual," Jo rambles on. "If that's the case, my movie ticket just became gold!"

I chance a glance at Jo before returning my eyes to the screen. I already feel like crawling out of my skin at the thought of seeing Peeta kiss longer and lower than a woman's neck.

Peeta kneels in front of the fireplace and busies himself with the firewood. Delly looks around the room while rubbing her arms for some heat. She touches their few childhood photos on display in the living room and smiles when she sees their middle school class photo. When Peeta has the fire going, Delly sits beside him, holding the picture out for him to see.

"Do you remember the time when you stood up for me in middle school?" Delly hums as she locks eyes with Peeta. She's so captivating and is such a great actress.

"They shouldn't have said those awful words to you, Aurora. They hurt you a lot ... you cried for days." Peeta gives Delly a sad smile, and a few tears fall from the corners of his eyes.

"Your mother wouldn't have let you stand up for me, Lorenzo ... You got into trouble in school for me. My heart broke for what they did to you." Delly or her character, Aurora, then gingerly holds Lorenzo's cheeks, brushing her thumb where the purple welt used to be.

"I don't care. You deserved to be treated better than that, Aurora." Peeta covers her hand and turns his head to kiss her palm firmly.

"Oh, Lorenzo ..."

"This is so fucking romantic." Jo sobs and stuffs her mouth with more popcorn. "They've both been through so, so much. They deserve a happy life with each other and a dozen adorable babies."

I simply nod my head and then hug my knees as I lean back on the bed of my old pickup truck. I couldn't tell Jo that this scene reminds me of what Peeta did for me many years ago. It was such a difficult time in my childhood, and he was the one who gave me hope. Peeta's kindness helped me find a way to survive and provide for my mother and Prim. I never did thank him for the bread nor repaid that debt, though.

"Best friends to lovers is one of my favorite tropes," Jo says as she opens a pack of sour worms loudly. "The slow burn is excruciating but totally satisfying when they have their first sexual encounter. Pure bliss, I tell you, brainless. Bliss!"

At the same instant Jo says bliss, Delly leans into Peeta's lips and kisses him with fervor. She straddles him, and his hands flatten on her back, tracing patterns of his love on her pearlescent skin. The sounds of soft moaning fill my ears, punctuated by Jo's "yes" as Delly deepens the kiss and snakes one hand inside Peeta's white Henley. The background music progressively gets louder as the musical ensemble plays when Peeta's shirt slides off his chest, and Jo gets her wish.

"Fuck yeah!" Jo curses into the air. I close my eyes to limit my senses because I can't watch this. But just like in hunting, when I shut my eyes, my hearing gets hyperfocus. I pick up the subtle pants and moans between Delly and Peeta. The change to ASMR sounds is torturous, and my imagination runs wild thinking of what Peeta and Delly could be doing on screen now.

"I love you, Aurora," Peeta murmurs as the sound of lips gliding past each other pauses. A few tears fall from my eyes. The immediacy of hearing Peeta say those three words overcomes me.

When I open my eyes, I find him as nothing but perfect. Immaculately perfect in his expression of love.

Peeta's jaw clicks with the right amount of tension, and his lips tremble as he inhales the air before him. Savoring the moment of finally being able to love his best friend like he wanted to since he was a young boy shows in his hooded eyes. When he shifts his gaze to take in Delly's flushed face, I can't help but close my eyes again and cover my mouth with my hand. Pure love and adoration unfold before me. It was flawless.

"Damn, Peeta. I'm a mess now," Jo hiccups without preamble. I try to block her out and focus on the warmth spreading on my chest. I try to convince myself that this is what excellent movies can do and not because I feel deeply about Peeta Mellark.

"I love you too, Lorenzo," Delly replies easily, and I'm all too jealous that she could say those words of love to him. Heartsickness overtakes me all too quickly.

The scene fades out when Peeta begins to lay Delly down on the carpeted floor, hovering over her as she weaves her fingers on his curls.

"Damn, just look at the chord of muscles on bread boy's back. Those Venus dimples are to die for ..."

Mindlessly, I begin chewing the insides of my bottom lip, and my fingers twitch of their own accord as I run my eyes on Peeta's symmetrical lower back dimples.

"I'll be damn. He's like a Greek god. Majestic and sculpted from marble!"

The movie ends with an epilogue set four years after their first time. Giggling laughter flurries on the scene, and we're shown an adorable three-year-old girl with naturally curly hair. Beside her is Peeta wearing an evergreen apron while cooking very fluffy pancakes. With the world's brightest smile, he lifts his on-screen daughter and gives her raspberry kisses. The child's cheeks bloom rosy pink, and joy radiates from my previously saddened heart. Seeing Peeta this happy, even if it were just in the movie, gives me much pleasure.

In the background, Delly is humming as she sets the table and picks out a dandelion from the flower vase. Peeta's movies always have dandelions in them. I wonder if he has a hand in the choice of flowers.

Cheerily, Delly walks towards Peeta and their child and places the flower on their little girl's hair before kissing her husband. It's a very domestic site to behold, and a perfect way to end their love story. No doubt this film is another small treasure I will keep in my memory.

"I'm pretty sure this will be a blockbuster hit," Jo claims like she usually does. She finishes the rest of the snacks, slurping the soda float we had forgotten. "He'll probably get a best actor nomination or, at the very least, get the best kiss award from the Capitol Teen Award. If he doesn't, there's going to be an uprising."

"I'm sure he'll win," I supply confidently, my heart filled with life and heat from the happy ending for Lorenzo and Aurora.

"He doesn't have much competition anywhere," I add because Peeta really doesn't. Not in my book, at least.

"Time to go back to our plain old reality now, brainless. Let's go?"

"Yeah, Jo," I mumble and rub my forehead as the end credits roll out.

I'm going back to my regular life where I pine away at the only boy, and now, man, I have ever considered giving my heart to.

-- The End --

.....

Don't worry. There will be part two. I'm just ironing it out =)

Let me know what you think! This is my first time writing Johanna.

#prompt filled #submission

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everlarkbirthdaygifts · 4 years ago

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Happy Birthday, mega-aulover!

Happy Birthday, @mega-aulover! We hope you’ve had a wonderful day so far, and that you got exactly the presents you were hoping for! To keep your party going a little while longer, the lovely @endlessnightlock has written a story just for you!

Happy birthday @mega-aulover! Here’s something a little spicy, a little sweet for your day. Soul-mark Everlark. Rated M for non-explicit sexual content.

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The first time I remember talking to Peeta, we were five, and it was a fall day, much like today- cool and windy, a welcome cool down from the heat of summer. He was standing at the bakery’s back door with his father, his little round cheeks pink from the heat emanating from the ovens. The heat was so intense from the kitchen you could feel it out on the step, and his eyes were the bluest things I’d ever seen. I think I fell a little bit in love with him then.

We were there that morning because my father took me along with him to trade with the businesses in town. It was a day of a lot of firsts: not only did I meet Peeta, but I also had my first Mellark’s fall apple muffin- I’d never tasted anything so delicious in my life. Since that day, I’ve had lots of baked goods from Mellark’s, and while my favorite is probably the cheese buns Peeta makes especially for me, I’ll never forget those apple muffins- they were like magic.

That day also marked the first chance I had to spend the morning in the woods with my father, tagging along behind him as he hunted and checked his traps. Prim was just a baby back then, and in my hazy memory of the day, I think she was teething, and Mother needed to sleep; that’s why I got to spend the day with Father. It was such a good day, and meeting Peeta was the icing on the cake.

My father is a hunter-gatherer, and we live in a small house in the woods close to where the fence used to run, separating it from the district boundary. It isn't far from town because my mother is one of the district healers, and there was school in town that my sister and I needed to attend, of course. It’s been a wonderful place to grow up, straddling that line between wilderness and civilization. My family is a happy one.

According to my parents, our life looks entirely different from how things were even five years ago now that our country is the New Republic of Panem.

When my parents were teenagers, the Great War erupted, and the districts, with the military backing of newly rediscovered Thirteen, rose together and defeated the Capitol’s heavy hand of oppression. They’d taken everything away from the districts for so long- food, freedom, hope in addition to the two children a year, forced to fight to their deaths in the Hunger Games.

After the war that ended in the rebel’s victory, citizens of Panem were free in ways they’d never been: free to travel, free to pursue higher education, and in Twelve, they were free not to work in the mines for a pittance until they died an early death from miner’s lung or cancer. The possibilities to choose the path of your own life? They’re endless now compared to what they used to be.

The only place where we are not so free is marriage, which wasn’t the Capitol’s doing. That’s because of the soul marks.

A soul mark is a pattern that emerges on your body through your teen years, eventually pairing you with your soulmate when you reach adulthood. If you’re going to get one (not everyone does), the beginnings of it show up around puberty, and the pattern typically doesn’t fill in entirely until you reach the age of eighteen. Once you hit your eighteenth birthday, you are considered ready for marriage as soon as you find the person with the other half of your soul mark. There’s a ceremony during the first day of the Harvest Festival where the eighteen-year-olds participate; it’s when the couples typically pair off.

We’re all told from an early age about the force that draws you to your mate; the older couples in the district are continually telling us younger ones there will be no doubt who your soulmate is when your time to meet comes.

I have a soul mark- it looks like a series of lines on my right hand in the space between my thumb and pointer finger; it’s a long line, with a series of eight identical hash marks that meet it vertically, leaving me with a soul mark that forms what I think must be the bottom half of a barcode. I’m not entirely sure that’s what the mark represents or what it is supposed to be.

Some of my friends have the marks; some don’t. Delly has one on her thigh, and Madge has one on her back. Peeta, my closest friend, and the person I have so many confusing feelings for, has a soul mark; when I asked him where it was, he flushed six different shades and told me he couldn’t let me see it.

I don’t think Peeta knows this, but I got a good look at what had formed of his soul mark when we were fifteen. That summer, a group of us hiked to the lake hidden in the woods to swim. Madge and Delly and I wore our darkest bras and underwear, we’d been before and knew what the water would do, while Peeta and Gale wore their boxer shorts. Peeta wore a pair of boxers that were unknown to him, transparent from behind when wet.

That’s pretty much when all the confusing thoughts I have about him began. I’ll never forget how dry-mouthed and hot I felt looking at him that way- I could hardly take my eyes off him. Peeta’s frame wasn’t as large then as it is now, and he wasn’t so muscular either, but it was still wholly overwhelming. He was all thick legs and broad shoulders even then, with the thin, wet material of his boxers leaving little of his backside to the imagination.

I’ve spent a lot of time alone in my bed at night thinking about that day, not just because of the way he looked and the way it made my body tingle (of course, that was part of it), but because of his soul mark. On one side of Peeta’s, err, butt, I guess you’d call it, were a few curving lines I could just make out through the thin material, which I kept sneaking glances at when no one was paying attention to me.

Like mine, I couldn’t determine yet what Peeta’s mark was supposed to be, but the curving lines reminded me of a loose sketch of clouds I’d watched him sketch once. Clouds and barcodes? Those two things were as unrelated to each other as doorknobs and jackrabbits. And it made me sad, realizing that his mark and mine were so different because that meant we were both destined to be married to someone else.

I don’t know why I felt like that- I didn’t even know if I wanted to get married; it was just that if I were, Peeta was the only boy I could picture myself spending the rest of my life with. He’s my best friend- he makes me laugh and makes me feel comfortable just being myself, and lately, I find myself thinking a lot about what it would feel like to kiss him, among other things I’m too embarrassed to mention.

The fact that I’ll never have any of the answers seems impossible to stomach, and today is the day- Match Day, the first day of the Harvest Festival. I’m so scared of what it’s going to bring: both who I’ll end up matched with and who I’ll watch Peeta walk away from the square with. Both are reason enough to make me want to run.

In the square with the other girls, I’m here, waiting with Madge and Delly for Mayor Undersee to stand on the stage and give out instructions for finding your mate in the crowd; if your mate is of age. If you couldn’t find your mate today, you keep coming back every year until you met the person with the matching soul mark. Twelve isn’t a large district, so there aren’t many young men and women here, maybe fifty. I’d say a quarter of them are a few years older, like Gale, who hasn’t paired up yet.

I scan the crowd, and my eyes briefly catch Peeta’s. He stares at me intently, something in his eyes I can’t name. It doesn’t look like the fear that I’m sure mine hold. I don’t know what he’s thinking, so I look away from him quickly, my stomach sinking at the reminder that he will never be mine, not the way I wanted.

Why couldn’t it have just been him? Why did we have to have these stupid marks on our skin anyway? I stare ahead at the stage, not looking to the left or right after escaping the razorlike sharpness of Peeta’s gaze on me.

And then, it’s time. Mayor Undersee appears on the small stage erected in the square just for this occasion. He stands in front of the groups of young men and women gathered near the front while curious onlookers and family of the soon-to-be-matched stay towards the back. Mayor Undersee looks out, smiling benevolently at us all. “Welcome to the matching ceremony!”

I feel like I’m going to be sick. I think panic might be setting in. Because I’m so nervous, I can’t concentrate on what the Mayor is saying; every noise around me sounds like buzzing and droning. Words bounce around inside my head, but very few of them form a coherent thought.

Meanwhile, my only real thought is-

I can’t do this. I can’t do this-

And so, as Mayor Undersee is wrapping up, as I’m panicking, as I realize that I’d be just as happy living alone in the woods for the rest of my life as I would be married to anyone other than Peeta, I come to a decision. As unobtrusively as possible because I don’t relish the idea of making a scene, I turn around and, ducking my head, elbow my way to the back of the crowd. When I get to the end of the girls’ group, I take off running without looking back.

Getting further and further away from the crowd, I hear someone call out my name, but I don’t stop.

I run for the first place I can think of, the bakery. The business is closed for the matching ceremony since Peeta is running it now; he has been since we graduated in the spring. At the time, Mr. Mellark moved into his new wife’s home. He still works at the bakery, but he wanted to make way for Peeta to have a place to bring his new wife.

Surely Peeta won’t come back here right away with his match? He’ll have to meet with her family and make plans for their wedding first. I know I should go somewhere else, I tell myself as I run up the back stairs that lead to his living quarters above the business, but I want the comfort of being here one last time before I lose him forever.

Letting myself into his kitchen, my favorite room in this space because it reminds me of time spent here with him, I drag myself over to his table; it’s old, it’s wood worn smooth and soft over time. Pulling a chair out, I slump down into the seat and let my arms drop to the tabletop, laying my head there.

Eventually, I hear heavy footsteps coming up the steps. When they stop, I look up to see Peeta standing in the doorway. “Are you alright?” he asks, sounding out of breath as he approaches me.

I laugh derisively. “What are you doing here? You should have stayed. You’re going to miss your match,” I tell him, although I’m glad he’s here, secretly, even though I know it’s just going to delay the inevitable. Peeta’s still going to match to a girl who isn’t me- someone who’s soul mark matches his.

“What happened?” He asks gently, ignoring my words. He pulls out the other chair and sits, scooting his chair close to me.

Instead of looking at him, I stare down at my hands; the breath caught in my throat. I’ve never been hesitant with Peeta, but my heart is thumping oddly inside my chest, and warmth is spreading through me. What I’m experiencing is similar to how I always feel in his vicinity, but greatly intensified. I sense Peeta watching me, waiting for an answer. When I glance over at him, he’s staring at my mouth. His tongue darts out, and he licks his lips; it makes my whole body feel tight.

“I can’t do it,” I say, tearing my glance away from his mouth, “I can’t marry some random man from the district. Not when, if things were different, it could’ve been-”

I’m trying to say it, trying to tell Peeta why I can’t go through with the soul marks match, but my words trail off when he moves into me. What I soon discover are his impossibly soft lips are on mine quicker than I would’ve thought possible, and oh, the feeling. At the first touch of his mouth on mine, heat spreads through me. It travels down to the tips of my toes and fingers, snaking its way through every fiber of my being. Peeta wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me down to the floor. We’re kneeling together when he pulls me against him again. I go without any hesitation; I want to keep kissing and touching him so badly.

“We can’t- we can’t do this,” I say, finally fighting against my wants as I attempt to pull away from him. I’m so weak, though, giving in to him when he chases me with his lips. Everything feels so good; I feel more alive, more right than I have ever been.

“Why not?” Peeta asks softly. His hands are everywhere, and I don’t want him to stop. I want to climb on top of him; it’s an overwhelming, powerful need. “Katniss, I love you-”

I give in because he loves me too, throwing myself at him with such force, I knock Peeta off balance. We tumble to the floor, landing side by side with our arms entwined around each other. “You shouldn’t say that,” I tell Peeta as my mouth drops to his neck. It feels like my brain and my body are directing two completely different courses of action, and I can’t seem to stop either one of them.

“Why?” Peeta moans as I suck on his skin.

“Our marks don’t match.”

“Do you want me, though?” he asks, sounding serious as he pulls away. We’re both harshly breathing as we stare at each other. “Do you want to be with me?” he repeats.

“Yes,” I whisper, searching his eyes, “Of course I do, but-“

He interrupts me, impatient with my reasons. “How do you know we don’t match? You’ve never seen my mark.” Peeta quickly sits up, rising on his knees. His hands drop, and I watch him tear frantically at the button and zipper of his pants. It’s surreal, lying on the floor beside him. My body is buzzing in a way that feels amplified times a thousand as I watch him unbutton his pants and pull down the zipper.

I know I should look away, but I can’t- for the first time in my life, I let him see that I’m looking at him, that I’m fascinated by him, and I want to know all his secrets. As he pushes his pants down to his knees, the tails of his shirt drop, obscuring his front so that all I can see are his muscular legs.

I don’t know what to do- Peeta is naked under that shirt, and I just-

He shifts a little, moving the bottom of his shirt to reveal one side of his behind, and I finally have a good look at him. I’m instantly distracted.

Wow, he’s got a great-looking behind. Gorgeous, really; in fact, I have a crazy urge to sink my fingers into it.

I tell myself to snap out of it because it makes things a little weird with me lying on the floor next to Peeta, staring up at the side of his butt. So I sit up; when I’m upright, I move the portion of Peeta’s shirt away that’s obscuring my view since I still couldn’t see his soul mark.

Peeta shivers when my fingers brush against him, exposing his bottom while I remain silent. I stare at the sight that greets my eyes, and he glances over his shoulder at me expectantly with eyebrows raised.

All I can do is drop his shirt, concealing his bottom again before covering my face with both hands, trying to keep the happy laughter escaping me from crossing over into hysteria.

I absolutely cannot believe this.

“Don’t laugh!” Peeta says, but he’s smirking himself. “I know my mark looks ridiculous, but I told you we matched.”

I sit back on my heels- my body shaking with the effort of trying to hold my laughter in. I cannot believe this- I’m thrilled. I’m getting everything I want.

Peeta turns to face me. He’s still on his knees, and his pants are still in a puddle around his legs, but he doesn’t hesitate to put his arms around me, pulling me close to him. “I love you,” he says as I get my laughter under control. I can feel him smile against my scalp.

“I love you, too,” I mumble, happy tears streaking down my face and wetting his cotton shirt. I’m probably getting snot on him by now, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

Peeta pulls away, looking down at me. He uses one hand to wipe my eyes, and I take the opportunity to wipe my nose on the sleeve of my dress. I know it’s gross, but I guess some excess body fluids aren’t much to consider- he and I will be married soon. The corners of his mouth turn up in a smile as he watches at me. “You love me- for real?”

“Real,” I say, wiping my face with my sleeve again, just to be sure I got it all. “I love you.”

When my face is dry, I kiss him again, eagerly. I’m so happy, and I want him to know the way I feel. I love Peeta so much, and I want him so much.

We’re kissing intently, and I’m urging Peeta to lay on top of me again as he slowly undoes the buttons of my dress, when I have an epiphany. What’s happening between us right now, this all-consuming hunger must’ve been what the older soul-matched couples referred to when they (rather knowingly now that I think about it) told soul-marked teens they’d know their mate when the time came.

Apparently, in Peeta and I’s case, at least, “knowing when the time came” meant a quickly-awakened, unbridled desire for each other. Not that it took much for us when the love between us was already there, fully formed. I know this would’ve happened anyway.

It doesn’t take long for things to become even more heated between us. Before I know it, I’m lining up Peeta’s soul mark with mine when I reach behind him, grasping a handful of his delicious rump. My forwardness must surprise him, catching him off-guard in the middle of kissing a line down my neck and into the valley between my breasts, because when I do it, he grunts. HIs pleased noise makes my pulse race, so I do it to him again.

As for our marks? Of all things, Peeta’s is the top of an apple muffin, while mine is the bottom half. His curved lines and my rigid ones- they’re a lot like him and myself. Together we’re delicious. Although him on top and me on the bottom doesn’t last very long, just until he rolls us over and pulls my dress up and over my head, telling me he wants to look at me.

A while later, when the back of his head thunks against the wooden floor in bliss, I realize that maybe those apple muffins were pretty magical.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #everlarkbirthdaydrabbles #everlarkbirthdaygifts #fan fic #by endlessnightlock

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anneshirleycuffbert · 5 years ago

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Anne’s letter to Gilbert - #1

Dear Gilbert,

I look like my mother...

Remember that deeply meaningful journey I told you I was on? It was to find my parents, and I did.

Before I expand on this, I want to apologize for treating you so rudely that day you escorted me to Charlottetown. I am so, so sorry. I regret to say I predict there will be a great many things I must apologize for - past, present, and future. Please accept my apologies in advance.

Shortly after you left, Matthew and Marilla gave me my birthday wish, to know my parents. They surprised me with a book they had discovered from one of the houses I stayed in before I came to Green Gables, titled “The Language of Flowers.” The book was a gift from my father to my mother and we found her portrait painted in the back cover. I wish you were here so I can show you how my mother and I share the same hair, the same writing, the same passion. My parents were so enraptured with each other and it relieves me to know they were beautiful people and kindred spirits and not people I simply imagined for myself. It comforts me to know that I carry a part of them with me.

There’s a numbness that exists in my soul for not having the chance to know them, but there is a greater ache in my heart from missing home. Matthew and Marilla, I know, are lonely without me as much as I am without them. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful to be at Queen’s, excited to learn after a summer in limbo. I feel a blessed anticipation, too, with the hope of what’s to come after. But I can’t help feeling guilty that I can be happy without Matthew and Marilla by my side to experience it as well. I can almost hear Rachel Lynde labeling these thoughts as nonsensical.

You’ll find enclosed in this letter my favorite pressed aster flower out of the multitudes the girls and I picked before supper to adorn our rooms with. Notice the little odd white spot on one of its petals? We were all homesick and hoped that a walk by the nearest trail would lighten the feeling, and found a beautiful abandoned garden. I thought you’d also like something that reminded you of home, what with you being in the city and all. The Aster was listed in my mother’s book as one of her favorites, after the Queen Anne’s lace.

How are you, Gilbert? What’s Toronto like? Have you met any kindred spirits yet? Any interesting people? What’s Emily Oak like?

Diana told me you knew nothing of the letter I wrote to you. I cannot describe to you how I laughed and laughed at her retelling of your conversation with her on the train. How you managed to survive her scolding amazes me. Which brings me to my first follow-up question: How do you feel about me, Gilbert, really?

I can take a smart guess, but if there is anything I learned from my recent experiences, it is not to live life based on assumptions. And, I may as well confess, I was in a temper when I found your letter with my pen on my vanity– I cannot believe you were in my room!– and the letter was a poor victim of my rage. What I managed to scavenge from the remains painted the wrong picture of you and Winifred, and so, I ask you directly.

As for the letter I wrote that failed to reach you, its contents were simple and true. Gilbert Blythe, I love you. I am sorry for the way I reacted that night at the ruins and I am sorry I was confused but I know you understand I’m not anymore. I look forward to the day we can talk face to face so I can tell you in person. Consider this my proper advance.

I’ve left the lamp burning for too long, so I’m rushing to finish this letter. The housekeeper is very strict about curfew and lights out by ten in the evening. I’ve made up my mind to make her like me since I am staying under her roof for at least a year, so I will not be caught disobeying her.

Matthew sold Pride, the cow, and gave me the money to use as a travel fund, so I will be visiting Green Gables next weekend. I also plan to visit Bash and Delphine, and hopefully get acquainted with Miss Hazel. Oh, Gil, how fortunate it is that Delly will grow up with her family, with no doubts she is loved. I can’t deny that I envy what’s to come of her wonderful childhood. But, then again, if I wasn’t an orphan, I would never have met Matthew, Marilla, Diana, and Miss Stacey. I would never have met you. I’m learning there’s little room for regret when one recites the things they are grateful for which keeps their perspective fresh. Although, I do regret whacking you with my slate when we were children, but only a tiny bit. You cannot deny you deserved it.

I miss you already, Gil. Come home someday.

Lovingly yours,

Anne

P.S. my word of the day is nostalgia: a feeling of pleasure and sometimes slight sadness at the same time as one reflects their past

——————————————————————

This is Letter 1! To read Letter 2: Gilbert’s letter to Anne, click here <3

for an index to more letters/awae shorts, click here

#i tried ok #should i write more?#shirbert letters #awae #anne with an e #shirbert #gilbert blythe #anne shirley cuthbert #anneshirleycuffbert #awae season 3 #anne x gilbert #awae spoilers #save anne with an e #renew anne with an e #renew awae #awae:dlu

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royalcordelia · 5 years ago

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I Fell Down and Saw Him Rise

Summary: Gilbert writes no letter and Anne doesn't speak with Winifred. An alternate take on the renowned 3x10 scene. (2k, Rated G)

This is based off of this prompt I received from an anon a few days ago! Hope this helps you enjoy quarantine a bit more, nonnie! ♥

-*-

Anne did not expect to enjoy Charlottetown as much as she did. It was a far cry from home to be true. Yet it could not be denied that the city air smelled so enticingly of possibility and promise, and as Anne marched down the streets in her new gown under the shade of her parasol, she felt more and more like a real lady. Gentlefolk she met eyes with no longer looked down their noses in classist disgust. Instead, some nodded politely and others offered appreciative smiles at her refined attire. The golden fields of Avonlea and the perfume of their wildflowers still followed Anne in her heart, and she lived along with - not in spite of - its memory. Her soul was wide and an adventure was hers for the taking.

Then, Anne’s eyes fell upon something that made her heart drop to her stomach.

The sight of Winifred was a harsh dousing of cold water. The calm of the day was broken and the early autumn air became bitterly frigid. The blonde beauty appeared as genteel as ever she did, standing with a sort of guarded sophisticated expression on her face. She watched as her servants loaded her belongings into a carriage, though something far away occupied her gaze, and she hadn’t noticed Anne.

Anne paused. Should she venture forward and say hello? Was Gilbert here? Her heart sank at the thought of him. If Winifed was loading her things into a carriage, did that mean that Gilbert was leaving...Leaving today?

It was then that one of the servants noticed the pale redhead standing in the gateway and whispered a few words to Winifred. Immediately, she fixed a sharp glare at Anne with such palpable disdain that it made Anne step back. Her grip on her parasol tightened. Had Winifred always hated her so much? Maybe Gilbert said something, told Winifred about the letter he’d received from Anne? If Gilbert despised her as much as Winifred seemed to, she wasn’t sure what she’d do.

Just let it go, Anne, she told herself. Let him go.

More dignified than she felt, Anne opened her parasol and rested it on her shoulder. She gave a polite smile, a short nod, and continued walking down the street.

The Blackmore House was a welcome sight. Anne’s walk home had been overwhelmingly occupied by thoughts of Gilbert as the last of her hopes tried desperately to cling to her. The optimistic side of her, the side that could so easily picture Gilbert appearing out of thin air and declaring his undying love, needed to be quieted. Soon, the Avonlea girls would be home to ease her thoughts, and in turn, the dull ache of her heart.

Her gaze fell down to the flowerbed along the edge of the house. The familiar blooms had begun to wear thin and pale with dryness.

“My poor friends, you’ve been neglected,” Anne murmured softly. She took the watering pail from the porch step and began to sprinkle what was left overtop the soil. “I admit, I’ve also been feeling a little like I’ve lost my vibrant colors. Still, you all are quite fortunate. How lovely it must be to entwine your roots with those beside you, to never be separated from them. I hope you’ll all enjoy this bit of rain.”

Above her, a cottony cloud split down the middle and drenched Anne and her flowers in sunlight. She swore it tasted like honey or sugar on her lips.

“Some sunshine will do all of us some good,” she continued. “It’s hard to linger on things that pain us if we’re sitting in the sun together, even if those things are wont to hurt excruciatingly.”

Caressing soft petals, Anne felt herself teetering on the precipice from which there was no return. If she opened up her mind to thoughts of Gilbert, she wouldn’t be able to stop. More and more, she was unsure if her heart would survive the onslaught, regardless of all her words to Diana that had been of healing and moving on.

Yet before she could venture down the path to thoughts of unruly, night-sky hair and melodiously deep laughter, she heard a pair of footprints race up the front path. Her head shot up, the sight before her causing her jaw to drop.

Gilbert Blythe was bounding up the path, aided by the wind at his back. He looked wild, dressed without his jacket and sweating through his white shirt. Anne’s mind raced - what could he possibly be here for? Had he heard that she was living in Charlottetown and come to see her before leaving for Paris?

Anne rose from where she knelt by the flowerbed, and when Gilbert finally saw her, he stumbled forward and jolted to a halt. His eyebrows were knit in a strange expression, causing a wave of self consciousness to come over Anne. She could dress in beautiful azure gowns and curl her hair into any fashion she wanted, but Gilbert had known her at her worst. He wasn’t likely to be distracted by the new change - she was the same Anne he’d always known.

“Anne-” he choked out, but anything else he wanted to say was caught in his throat. He was dissipating before her, his gaze desperate and his appearance disheveled beyond imagination. A tremor shook his hands and a pang of dread shot through Anne. She rushed up to him, searching his eyes and finding only desperation and something akin to wonder.

“Gilbert? What are you doing here?!” she exclaimed. Gilbert gaped, but no words came out. His eyes roved over her, a shaky sigh leaving his lips and grazing her cheeks. “What’s wrong? Is Delly ill or-”

“I’m in love with you.” Anne was stunned to silence, her cheeks burned scarlet and her world flipped upside down on its axis. Gilbert himself was caught off guard by his own admission, but he pressed on. “I’m so enormously in love with you and I’m going to Toronto.”

Anne blinked, trying to clear her mind, but it was full to the brim with his confession. Her knees gave out their strength, and she lurched in a rising tide of bliss. Misinterpreting her reaction as fear, Gilbert took a step forward and searched her eyes.

“Please don’t be alarmed. I would never pressure you to feel or be anything you refuse to be. But the things you do want, Anne, I want you to have them. Still more than anything, I want you to want me.” He reached for her hands, finding them already open to him. “I had no hope of it when I left Avonlea, but then Diana found me on the train. I knew I’ve been acting like a fool, but I had no idea how much. Anne, you need to know I’m not engaged. I won’t ever be - that is, unless one day...”

Anne whispered his name, a soft plea to give her a moment to process, but Gilbert shook his head, taking her quiet tone as trepidation.

“I don’t expect your favor - wouldn’t dream of expecting it since I’ve done nothing that warrants I should deserve it,” he added with a self-deprecating scoff. With a deep breath, he let his honesty show on his face. “I just came because I need you to know that you are exquisite . I’ve always thought so and I always will.”

All Anne’s words were gone. In a blissful instant, all that was left was an overwhelming, incoherent hurricane of feeling. It turned her insides to nectar from the head down, tempering down time and making the slow moments sweet.

Gilbert wasn’t sure what to make of her silence. He searched her wide eyes for any reason to hope and waited several moments into the quiet before dropping her hands. He gave a stiff nod and began to turn away.

“That’s that, then.”

But for Anne, it was far from over. Her euphoric haze dissipated the second his warmth was gone, but her fingers brushed his sleeve out of instinct as he moved. Before Gilbert could even take a step, she seized his face and kissed him soft and desperate.

Gilbert dissolved. Out of instinct, he let his hands tangle into the curls of her hair and gently pull loose the knots. His lips were soft as they moved beneath hers, yielding and honeyed. He was the first to pull back, an awed grin turning his face gold in the sunlight. It was his turn to have a mind of jumbled words.

“Diana said...but I thought she might be mistaken...but you-” Something in Anne’s eyes changed that silenced the words on his tongue. “Anne, I have to know. Do you truly have feelings for me?”

Anne had half a mind to kiss him again, but she was a lover of words and a lover of him. If there ever was a time to string together poetry and use the lavish words of her heart, it was now. Yet, she found the songlike verse that swelled in heart articulated itself much simpler than she expected. Reverently, Anne uttered, “I do. I love you.”

His reaction was everything she was hoping for, everything hers had been moments ago. With a cry of delight, he took Anne into his arms and pressed her against him. Her arms found their way around his neck and she laughed in delight.

“I never got your letter,” he confessed into her hair, running his fingers along the soft curls. Anne leaned back enough to peer up into his face, delighting in the lovesickness she found there. “I should’ve written a letter or my own. Maybe then we would’ve faced less misunderstandings.”

Anne hummed. “A small part of me believes I still would’ve found a way to complicate matters. What would you have written?”

“Dear Anne, thanks for the pen and good luck at Queens .”

She laughed, fighting the urge to lay her head back on his shoulder.

“No, really!”

Gilbert pondered this for a moment. His hand reached for the constellations on her cheek, caressing each freckle as if they were tempered flecks of gold.

“Dear Anne, I write to you a fool in man’s clothes for mistaking everything for so long. You are the true, the only object of my affection and my desire . And then I might say something about how you couldn’t have possibly known that smacking your slate over my head would be the start of me falling hopelessly in love with you.” He embellished his statement with a kiss at the corner of her mouth. “What would you have replied?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t have replied anything,” Anne answered. “I would have rushed across the fields between our houses to see you, and then I suppose the following events would’ve been much as they’ve been today.”

“And if I were already gone?”

“Then I would’ve even taken a train to Toronto to see you.”

Gilbert’s expression dimmed slightly.

“Toronto is much more far away than it sounds,” he lamented.

“I know where Toronto is, thank you very much,” Anne teased. “You’ll write?”

“Every day if you want me to.”

He might’ve said more, but the clambering of a carriage up the lane of Mrs. Blackmore’s house interrupted him from progressing further. Gilbert squeezed Anne’s hand with a regretful expression. It was not the parting either of them wanted, but the pain of saying goodbye was soothed by the knowledge that it would not be the last goodbye. A mere week until delivered letters, a few months until they could be reunited - the time would pass like seconds when there was so much life to be lived.

With one last smile, Anne kissed the inside of Gilbert’s palm and whispered, “Come home someday, Gilbert Blythe.”

His eyes were all the colors of Avonlea blended together.

“I will.”

#anne with an e #anne of green gables #shirbert #shirbert fic #anne and gilbert #tessa writes #much looooove to you all!#*sprays you in lysol*#*but lovingly*

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everlarkficexchange · 5 years ago

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when we’re underneath the lights my heart’s no longer broken

Written by: @omercilessmoon

Prompt 92: High School Musical au: Katniss and Peeta as Troy and Gabriella. [submitted by anonymous]

Rating: T

Summary: Panem High School puts on a production of High School Musical. Part 1/?

Author’s Note: The title is from “Just for a Moment” by Joshua Basset and Olivia Rodrigo. Katniss’s audition song is “Wondering”, sung by Julia Lester and Olivia Rodrigo.

* * *

“I’m not here to audition.”

Peeta meets her grey eyes by accident; he just doesn’t want to look at Ms. Trinket’s curly pink bob (which he was certain was a wig) or her shiny green pantsuit (which looked like tin-foil that was spray-painted metallic green) and had fully intended on staring at the wall just behind her and not on Katniss Everdeen.

Her eyebrows press together and she frowns.

Oh god. A blush starts up the back of his neck, turning his skin scarlet all the way up to his ears. He clears his throat, tearing his gaze away and tries again.

“I’d like to join the crew,” he says. “My brother did set design last year. I can help paint trees or something.”

Ms. Trinket shakes her head. “I am well aware of how your previous director ran your school productions,” she says, footsteps echoing as she paces across the stage. “I, however, require everyone to read.”

“I haven’t even seen the movie,” he replies.

A stream of murmurs fill the air; indistinct. They move low, swirling around his ankles like fog. Delly taps Madge on the knee, who passes her comment to Katniss: “Is he for real? Who hasn’t seen High School Musical?” The two blondes share a look and giggle.

Ms. Trinket doesn’t bat an eye. “Then we’ll be seeing a fresh interpretation!”

He’s about to say something else. The words are on his lips, but he sighs and reluctantly takes the script from her hand.

A frosty pink nail taps on a highlighted section and he reads for a moment before starting.

“My parents’ friends are always saying,” he starts, the words rolling off of his tongue easily. Though it’s not like the movie’s version, his performance is endearing. “‘Your son is the basketball guy. You must be so proud.’ Sometimes I don’t want to be the basketball guy. I just want to be, you know, me.”

Peeta looks up for approval, meaning to look at the director, but his eyes find hers again. He can’t read her expression, eyebrows are still knit together and lips still in a downward pout, but something in her eyes doesn’t match the rest. He stares back, his own face now scrunched into concentration.

And then he’s asked to sing.

Madge tries to lead him through Breaking Free, but he can’t read sheet music to save his life, and he doesn’t know the song—any of the songs—of course, because he hasn’t seen the movie.

He manages, just short of disaster.

There’s no applause.

After the first audition, he’d clapped before realizing that he wasn’t supposed to. The sound was loud and thunderous, almost awkward. He wishes that he had applause now to drown out his nerves.

* * *

Katniss is the last to audition.

She hates watching the other auditions, even the warmups. She tries to focus on her breathing, to calm the restless nerves prickling just underneath her skin. Her sheet music suffers as she twists it, breaking off small bits of paper and scattering the pieces on the floor.

She almost doesn’t get up during the last call for Gabriella. A look from Madge motivates her to force her legs to move beneath her, heavy, as if her shoes were filled with lead.

She’s no stranger to performing. She has been in previous school productions, is part of her church choir and has performed for her father countless times. Though, it’s different now. She feels alone, no lingering presence of his soul to guide her through auditions as before.

She doesn’t need a script for Gabriella’s monologue and it sets her apart from the others. She’s memorized it from watching the movie countless times, and she does… okay. Despite her attempt to mask her voice as cheery, her words fall flat as she recites, “Go Wildcats!”

It isn’t until Katniss settles at the pianoforte, which has been moved from the music room to the theatre, that she becomes someone of consequence. Her fingers shake as she starts to play a melody that isn’t an approved song.

She ignores the screech of a chair moving across the floor and the shrillness of Ms. Trinket’s voice as her eyes focus on notes in front of her.

Katniss awakens, her voice like magic.

Seems like a part of me will always have to lose Every single time I have to choose Swore that it felt right, but was I wrong? Is this where I’m supposed to be at all?

Smooth low notes flow from between her lips, sung into something sad and regretful. Ms. Trinket’s words stop in her throat.

If I could go back and change the past Be a little braver than I had And bet against the odds Would I still be lost? Even if I woke up in my dreams Would there still be something I’m missing? If I had everything Would it mean anything to me?

She sings a verse and the chorus and promptly stops. Her movements are almost robotic as she collects her sheet music and walks back to the corner of the stage, her eyes trained on the floor.

* * *

Ms. Trinket is a firm believer in first impressions and on principle, does not do callbacks. She spends most of her night going over her audition notes and placing them into her red binder behind the director’s copy of the script.

* * *

The cast list is posted before the first bell on the following day.

Peeta doesn’t look at it. He doesn’t need to, walking past the group of students surrounding it on his way to homeroom. His audition was just formality. He knows Katniss got Gabriella. The rest didn’t matter.

Rye intercepts him partway, grinning ear to ear. “Congratulations little brother,” he says, patting a hand on Peeta’s shoulder.

“For what?”

“The cast list?” Rye shakes his head. “I thought you’d be more excited.”

“I haven’t seen it.” Peeta blinks, unfazed. “You saw her audition.”

Rye shakes his head.

He drags Peeta to the bulletin board outside the theatre and it’s second from the top in Ms. Trinket’s careful printing.

Troy Bolton (understudy) … Peeta Mellark

“I told you to sign up, but I didn’t think you’d create some sort of elaborate plan!” Rye says.

Peeta hardly hears his brother as he’s overcome with dread. “This wasn’t the plan,” he says.

Join the crew and talk to the girl. That was the plan.

Peeta didn’t know how his brother had found out about his crush. He’s never mentioned it. He’s spent his whole life working up the courage to talk to her, creating plans and rehearsing opening lines she’d probably hate anyway.

“If you worked in the upcoming musical, you’d have some common ground,” Rye had suggested at dinner one night. Ms. Trinket had approached him last semester to be the stage manager. He knew all of the production details weeks in advance and tried to help Peeta.

Peeta would need all the help he can get.

He’s not a performer and can barely make eye contact with Katniss without blushing. He’s the understudy, thank god, but he’s still going to be practicing with her. Or at least, he hoped he would.

The first bell rings, signalling class in three minutes.

“First rehearsal is Thursday at four,” Rye winks.

#Springtime Edition 2020 #omercilessmoon #Prompt 92 #submission

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awhiskeyriver · 5 years ago

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I can't believe no one has asked for a sneak peek for the next chapter of The Bet yet????? So I guess I am asking:)

Haha, you’re cute. Okay, it’s not the *best* because the chapter is still pretty choppy so it’s hard to pin down a moment to tease that’s both interesting and doesn’t give away too much yet :)

*Chapter 15 spoilers below*

~To set the scene, this conversation takes place on New Years Eve. Madge is interrogating Thresh about his relationship with Delly:

“Hmm.” Madge hummed her tuneless song again, and this time Thresh’s aggravation showed.

“What hmm?” he demanded.

“Nothing,” she shrugged. “It’s just interesting, is all.”

“No it ain’t,” he grumbled, accent thick even in his low timber. In the silence, he chanced another look back at Madge, begrudgingly giving in and asking her what was interesting.

“I just didn’t realize you loved her.”

“I don’t.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

I bit my lip to keep from smiling. It was hard not to find humor in Thresh’s increasing frustration. He looked about ready to pull his hair out, if it had been long enough.

“If you say so,” Madge answered, sweetly.

“What do you say?” Finnick asked, setting down a tray of drinks in front of us all. Thresh grabbed his beer and chugged half of the glass in one sip.

“Thresh loves Delly.”

“You do?” Finnick asked, and that time, I couldn’t help the giggle that escaped me. He was so earnest and invested as he slid into the booth and slung an arm around Thresh’s shoulder.

“Congrats, bro.”

“He never said he was,” Annie said. “Madge is projecting, again.”

“That’s a nice way of putting it,” Thresh muttered. “She’s digging straight into my soul.”

“I told you she’d crack you,” Gale snickered.

“She didn’t crack me! Jesus, what is this? I feel like I’m on Dr. Phil.”

“So…you don’t love Delly then?” Finnick asked, egging him on. Thresh released a low growl.

“I–I don’t know. We–” he cut himself off and our small table went silent, patiently waiting.

“Just before she left, we were discussin’ where things were headed between the two of us. After graduation, and all that. All that talk about the future…I’ve never been in a long term thing, you know? I just sort of…panicked. And it ended in a fight. I feel like shit.”

“It’s a lot of change,” Annie agreed, quietly. “I understand why it could be scary.”

“Yeah, but sometimes it’s the scary stuff that ends up being the best,” Finnick said, winking at Annie who smiled, shyly. “Nothing worth fighting for comes easily.”

I chanced a glance up at Peeta and caught him staring back at me. His calm blue eyes bored into me with an intensity that shot down to my core. When his foot touched mine beneath the table, I knew we were thinking the same thing.

No, it hadn’t come easily but I wouldn’t have changed anything if it meant not getting to this point.

I offered a small smile and Peeta’s skin flushed, all the way up to his ears before we both turned to look down at our drinks.

“I know all of that,” Thresh sighed. “I’m just…I’ve never been a big risk taker, you know?”

I’m tired of taking all of the wrong risks.

“Choosing Panem was a risk,” Gale reminded him. “Could’ve gone to UT. Or Alabama.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess that was a risk.” He admitted, and then laughed. “Wasn’t sure how I’d fit in. I love y’all, don’t get me wrong, but this place is white as hell.”

When our laughter died, Madge placed a hand over Thresh’s thoughtfully.

“There’s nothing wrong with being scared.”

I am scared, I realized. Scared that things will change if Peeta and I tell people about our relationship. Scared to be judged.

“You just have to decide if the positive things make the risk worth taking, because if it is…you don’t want to lose it over something as silly as fear.”

#anon #ask #fanfic #the bet #kind of long....#but it looks like this chapter will end up being pretty long haha #so it works

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kindredspiritsarentsorare · 5 years ago

Text

Entirely Impossible: Chapter 6

“So you’re telling me that Anne is angry with me because she likes me?” Gilbert asked Bash.

“Yes,” Bash said as he fed Dellie some more breakfast, “Do I need to spell it out for you?”

“I don’t understand.”

“That dance you hated so much? It’s because you danced with Anne?” Bash asked.

“I didn’t hate it because of Anne. I just. I felt. There were a lot of feelings and I felt overwhelmed.” Gilbert sighed.

“Well, I suspect your Anne felt them too,” Bash said.

“Don’t call her that,” Gilbert sighed.

“Well, at any rate, from what I can tell you shared something in that dance. And then you show up at the fair with Winnie and barely give her the time of day. It hurt her feelings, Blythe.”

“I didn’t ignore her at the fair! She’s the one who ran from me!” Gilbert said.

“All she had to do was say something!” Gilbert said, “If I had known, I- I”

“You would have what, Blythe?”

“I don’t know.” Gilbert sighed.

“Well, think about it this way, what if Anne had shown up on someone else’s arm at the fair? What would have you done then? You would have told her that made you upset?” Bash asked.

“It wouldn’t have mattered because Anne can do as she pleases!” Gilbert said, then suddenly thought of Anne dancing with Charlie Sloane and felt a pang in his chest. “I... i don’t know.”

“Well that’s exactly what you did to Anne.”

“I just want her to be my friend, Bash. I don’t want her to hate me.” Gilbert sighed.

“Well, I think you want more than her friendship, Blythe. You’ve been gone over that girl for as long as I’ve known you.”

“I am not gone over Anne!”

Bash chuckled, “Well, at any rate you have a choice to make.”

“i can’t choose between Winnie and Anne! They are incomparable!” Gilbert said.

“I suspect if you don’t choose then they will choose for you,” Was Bash’s reply.

“I can’t think about this right now.” was Gilbert’s reply.

---

Gilbert did not like Anne Shirley-Cuthbert. Not in that way. Or did he? He didn’t know. His feelings were so confusing. He liked Winnie. She was easy to be with. Their path was clear and easy to walk. She was forthright and he knew what she expected of him.

Anne was not easy. Nothing with Anne was ever easy. Anne broke a slate over his head. She hid in boxcars and hopped rides on trains. She was fiercely passionate. She was unexpected. She was extraordinary. She cut off all of her hair. She consistently infuriated and enchanted Gilbert. She was anything but easy.

So why couldn’t he stop thinking about her?

Why did he feel as if Anne was a storm that he would weather every day if it meant he got to be with her? Why did he feel so compelled upon her ignoring him to pull her hair and call her carrots... just to get her attention.

Why was it that when he was at sea she was the person he missed the most? When he looked at the horizon on that ship he wondered if she was looking that way too. He dreamed of her.

When he’d received her letter his heart had flipped. He had drank that disgusting drink rather than admit he did or did not have feelings for her.

He had returned to Avonlea not because of the gold, but because of Anne. She had reminded him that he was cared for. He had a place. In Avonlea. And secretly, Gilbert had to admit to himself, he hoped with her.

Anne was the most vibrant and beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life. She was compassionate. She cared so deeply for others. Her words worked magic on him in a way he couldn’t explain. She did something to him. She had... what was the phrase used in Pride in Prejudice? Bewitched him body and soul?

Gilbert had chased after Anne the first day of their meeting and he felt as though he would always be chasing her. Every day for the rest of his life would be spent chasing her in one way or another. Maybe it was about time that Gilbert admitted that.

---

“Winnie, I, I don’t know how to say this.” Gilbert said as they walked towards her home after having tea.

“I suspect the best way is just to say it,” Winnie said with a grin.

“I... I think I’m in love... with Anne.” Gilbert said finally.

“Oh.” Winnie said, clearly surprised.

“I- I didn’t know it for a long time. But I think some part of me has always been in love with her. And I don’t think it’s fair for me to continue seeing you when my feelings are so uncertain. I don’t know what I want, or how Anne even feels about me, but I know it isn’t fair to you if I continued on like before.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Winnie said slowly.

“I am so sorry.” Gilbert said, searching her face. She took Gilbert’s hand in her own for a brief second.

“I can’t say I’m not disappointed, but I am happy for you Gilbert. You deserve every love and happiness in the world. And I do expect you to still write letters to me and chat like old chums. Because we can still be friends if nothing else.” Winnie said with a small, sad smile.

“I. Of course. Thank you for being so understanding.” Gilbert said, amazed at how kind Winnie was.

“You are a remarkable woman,” He said, she nodded and Gilbert thought she might have been holding back tears.

“But it has always been Anne, hasn’t it?” Winnie said with a smile.

“I suspect it has been,” Gilbert said.

“She suits you,” Winnie said, “She is just as compassionate and unconventional as you. Now that you’ve told me I can’t imagine you being happy with anyone else.”

#entirely impossible #anne with an e #anne with an e fanfiction #awae spoilers #awae fanfic #shirbert

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ophiedokes · 5 years ago

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Oh. My. Fragging. Soul. You! Already! For me! THANK YOU. I have no words. Even that little snippet was EVERYTHING. I really don't mind being called the prosthetic anon lol it's true for a lot of things. I just... thank you??? It's amazing??? It even has Finn in it. Wow. WOW. You're far too kind thank you thank you.

to quote @ambpersand: it ain’t an AU until Finnick Odair shows up! I’ve got a little more for you.He comes to the bar every Tuesday after that. Madge isn’t there every week. Sometimes Delly Cartwright shows up, though not always. It’s a given, though, that Finnick and Annie show up. They were regulars before, mind, but never with quite this much consistency. Maybe they found a babysitter who can handle the kid every week. She isn’t sure. But he’s there, always. In the booth that she’s coming to think of as his, almost. Which is stupid. Especially because he never buys his own drink. Finnick always picks the tab up. She’s clearing glasses on a night when they’re particularly short when Finnick clears his throat to get her attention. “Hey,” he says. “You know Peeta.” She wants to be annoyed, because she doesn’t have time for this right now. Only, Peeta is smiling at her all funny. Like he really is happy to see her. “Hey, Peeta,” she says. “I’m Katniss. I--” “I know who you are,” Peeta says, softly. “Good to see you.”

“You, too,” she says. “I gotta -- work. But, um.” She notices the crutches pressed up against the side of the booth and hates that they make her soften her tone, because she knows he can’t possibly want her pity. But she’s a little softer, anyway. “Yeah. Good to see you, too.” She doesn’t know what he wants from her, but he’s looking at her with this sparkle in his eyes. Like he wants her to keep talking. But she doesn’t have anything else to say, really. “So, you and Katniss went to school together?” Annie asks. “Yes,” Katniss is grateful for the assist. God knows she doesn’t actually have anything to talk to Peeta Mellark about. “Yeah, we were in school together. How do you know him?” A soft laugh from Peeta, here. Katniss twists her head to look back at him. “Annie’s my cousin?” the slight lilt in his voice betrays that he thinks she ought to have known this, which she kind of thinks is bullshit. Does he know who all of her cousins are? She doubts it. “Oh,” she says. “Well. Good for you.” Good for you? She winces at the words. What does that even mean? But Peeta just shoots her this easy grin, his hand cupped loosely around the glass of ginger ale. “I’m . . . gonna go,” she tilts her head back towards the bar. “Uh. Have a good night.” “Thanks.” Peeta’s smile doesn’t slip. “See you next Tuesday.” “Peeta!” Finnick’s voice is full of chastisement and Katniss turns to look at him, bewildered. What? It’s not like they’re not here every week. “Don’t call her that.” A startled laugh bubbles out of her and when she steals a glance over at Peeta, she finds him absolutely beet red. “That’s -- I wasn’t . . . I just meant--” “See you next Tuesday, Peeta,” she interrupts, hoping not to examine the heat rising in her own cheeks as if in answer. . . . Katniss cradles the phone between her ear and her shoulder while she folds her laundry. Prim is only across town from her, but she works such odd hours at the hospital that they practically have to schedule their sister time. Like tonight. Katniss is getting ready for bed just as Prim is taking her lunch break. “So I had to, like, haul this air conditioning unit up the stairs because. You know. Buttercup is wearing fur. He’s gonna overheat if we can’t get the central fixed.” Katniss laughs. “I was gonna say you guys could just stay here until you get it fixed. But I already lived with that nightmare cat once. Never again.” Prim laughs softly. “Buttercup isn’t that bad,” she defends, but Katniss knows better. “Never again.” “Oh,” Prim says, her tone brightening. “I saw Finnick today.” Prim used to be completely obsessed with Finnick when she was a little girl and used to babysit his son. Just horrible, embarrassing crush. He was always so kind about it, which is part of why Katniss has always sort of figured he’s just Not That Bad, despite what he must want her to think, the way he’s always teasing. “Yeah?” Katniss asks. “Yeah,” Prim says. “I guess he and Annie take Peeta to all his appointments.” Katniss frowns. “Doesn’t he have parents?” “Do you really think Genevive Mellark is the kind of mom to take her kid to physical therapy?” Prim asks. “Genev-il Mellark?” she repeats, and it’s not that it’s funny, but the reminder of what they used to call the owner of the bakery when they were kids makes her breathe out a little laugh. “Okay, maybe not,” she agrees. “So, what’s like, his whole deal? Do you know?” “What do you mean?” “I mean, like.” She doesn’t actually know. She just thought Prim might have more information. “I don’t know.” Prim laughs softly. But then, because she’s a nurse and because she’s always been a horrible gossip, she launches into it. Peeta had really planned on never coming home. He was at college on an athletic scholarship, which he lost on account of not being able to wrestle anymore. “I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever spoken to him,” Prim clarifies. “But I guess he’s. I don’t know. Kind of losing his mind.” “Losing his mind?” Katniss repeats carefully. “Just -- I guess he’s lonely,” Prim says. “His friends are all still busy with school.” “Oh.” For some reason, even after she and Prim have exchanged I love you, byes, she can’t stop thinking about Peeta Mellark. So much so that she looks him up on Facebook. Oh. He hasn’t updated the lives in New Haven, Connecticut on his profile. His cover photo is of him and a few other obviously young college kids all crammed into the frame together in front of a waterfall. He’s got his arms stretched wide, a girl on either side of him leaned up against his chest, and this absolutely triumphant grin. She clicks on it to read the caption before she can remind herself that this is weird. Oh. She guesses they hiked for hours to get there. In his profile picture, he’s got an arm slung over the back of the couch he’s sitting on, eyes bright and blond hair messy, falling down over his forehead in soft waves. He looks a little broader than he does now. It’s dated from about a year ago. Not that she’s any better. She hasn’t updated her profile picture since before the midterms. It’s not like she changes. Peeta has changed, though. He’s smaller now. Probably because he isn’t working out all the time to keep his wrestling scholarship. She hesitates for a long moment before she clicks on it, but she ends up sending him a friend request. It’s not weird. At least, not that weird. They did go to school together. He accepts it within a minute, which makes her feel weirdly regretful. Like she was offering him something she can’t really give. She stares at the green circle next to his name -- he’s online -- but she doesn’t message him. . . . She watches on Thursday as he enters the bar, trailing in after Finnick and Annie. His crutches are gone, which almost makes her arch an eyebrow, but then she notices the cane in his hand, the way he’s leaning just a little on his right leg. Finnick reaches a hand out, as if to offer to help him into the booth, and Peeta waves him off. She pretends to stare down at the sani rag in her hands as he approaches. “Hey.” “Hey,” Katniss returns, looking up. She wants to look like she’s just now noticed him, but she knows she’s a bad actress. “You’re not making Finnick carry your drink over tonight?” Peeta laughs lightly. “There’s always round two,” he says. “No, I’ve actually never seen it up here.” He glances around and she tries to swallow back her irritation. Is he really trying to appraise the bar right now? “Dartboard,” he says. “Very nice.” “Well,” she says, and it comes out a little pinched. “We do our best.” Peeta laughs. “It shows.” He’s trying to be charming, she thinks. And it even almost works. But she doesn’t want it to. “So, what do you want?” she asks. “Assuming you’re not just here for the darts.” God. Why is his smile so bright? “I want something stiff,” he says with a little laugh. “But I’ll take a Coke.” “Designated driver?” she asks, half teasing, and regrets it immediately. Fuck. Of course he’s not. Thankfully, he laughs. “God, I wish.” He reaches up and runs his free hand through his hair. She uses the gun to fill a glass and slides it across the counter to him, working to ignore the slight tingle of her fingers when they brush. “Cool,” he says. “Uh. See you around?” “Yeah, sure,” Katniss says, and then she goes ahead and starts Finnick’s drink, because he’s predictable. “You added him on Facebook?” Finnick asks, and she whips her head around, feeling weirdly confronted. So what if she did? “I -- he came up in my suggested list,” she defends. “You’re the one who said I should be his friend.” Finnick grins. “I did, yeah,” he says. “I think it’s nice.” “Does he know you’re pimping him out so hard?” Katniss asks, earning a laugh. “He wouldn’t mind,” Finnick says.

#moon in my glass #modern au #prosthetic anon #im sorry this is not good lol #but it's something

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pluviophile-bookworm · 5 years ago

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Thoughts/ reaction to AWAE 3x5

The cold open featuring Beekeeper Gilbert is the golden content I never knew I needed.

Miss Stacy teaching in the midst of nature is gold, but what draws my attention in that scene is the casual mentioning of the birds and the bees that causes half of the girls to get agitated at the thought that they’re finally getting the talk. I see bees are a recurring image in this episode. I admit to not having seen much of this particular scene as I was looking away from the blood.

Gilbert combining his natural talent as a doctor and his new… I wanna say hobby, that is, beekeeping, to help poor baby Ruby is gold. Seriously, this episode has GOLD written all over it in large bold letters and we’re barely 4 minutes in.

“I thought someone died…” The natives calling out the Whites™ for being drama queens have me wondering whose side I am on, and whether there are any sides at all; the fact is, I tend to overreact a lot, but this was a bit too much even for me. But let’s not dwell on this, there are more important scenes coming up and I have already used way too many words.

Yeah… I skipped ahead a bit. The sight of that needle caused me as much horror as it did Moody.

Gilbert ranting about natural medicine not being taught is such a mood. I think taking up beekeeping will do (and is already doing) wonders for his career in medicine.

Rachel babysitting Delly is giving me such strong New Mum vibes… “Please go to sleep”. This is the Rachel Lynde content I never expected to see but I’m glad I did.

And then Delly falls asleep as soon as she hears Marilla’s voice… I’m crying.

“Bash needs a wife” – who are you to decide that for him, Rachel? I was already annoyed with her for trying to play matchmaker for Miss Stacy without being asked to, but this is even more. Marilla is such a mood in this scene.

Matthew being Soft™ to his plants… as if I needed any more proof that he’s a Hufflepuff!

I live and would die for Anne and Diana’s friendship.

I also live for Diana embracing her own feelings rather than her mother’s visions of what’s “proper” and “improper”. And for the hint of her doing it just partially to spite her mother…

Honestly, Gilbert staying inside and reading the paper with Miss Stacy while everyone else is fussing about the Take Notice board is so in character. It emphasizes the fact that he is actually the adult of the class. I wonder what would make him more interested in the board, though…

Anne the Feminist™ is fascinated about the female doctor

Ok, but… who gives Charlie, by “noticing” Anne, and Diana, by walking in on her and Gilbert almost having a moment, the right to interrupt said moment before it’s even fully developed?

Anne is totally me in her reaction to (1) being noticed and (2) the news about the dance.

“Sebastian, take a seat.” If I were Bash in that scene, I would be thinking “How about you stop telling me what to do in my own home?”

Now she wants to take Delly away from him? And she thinks that’s good for anyone? Seriously, Rachel Lynde should mind her own business. But I bet she has no business of her own, otherwise she wouldn’t obsess so much over what everyone else is doing.

Anne’s reaction to Charlie posting about her gives off “Belle Reprise” from Beauty and the Beast vibes.

“Anne Shirley-Cuthbert-Sloane!” Try Anne Shirley-Cuthbert-Blythe instead. And boy, does this girl have a lot of last names! She’s becoming a bit like Hispanic royalty.

Both Jerry and Diana telling white lies to their friends so they can meet up – classic forbidden romance. I love it!

Look at my boy Jerry quoting Frankenstein! I feel like a proud mother – except, of course, for the fact that I am not a mother and I have no trace of merit in this beautiful achievement. Also, the way she holds the book to her heart, like it’s him, or at least a tiny part of him; and the way he looks back at her… I know this is a whole other fandom, but Andi Mack has taught me that lookbacks are important. My fragile little heart is melting! I might be aromantic by orientation, but I’m still a sucker for beautiful, poetic romantic scenes like this one. This is my new favourite scene of the entire series. If I could bottle it up and save it for a rainy day, oh how I would!

The scene of Gilbert and Bash talking about Mary being followed immediately by Matthew talking to Belle about her becoming a mum… I feel that they are a heartbreaking yet heartwarming representation of the cycle of life and death. Moira has done it again.

Also, Anne’s dress in this scene reminds me of the first dress she was wearing when she arrived. It’s a nice callback, if anything.

That scene of Diana reading in bed reminded me so much of me. I know that feeling so well, feeling a special connection to a book, even for some reason outside the book itself. And, sure, Frankenstein is far from the most romantic of books, but now it will forever be a thing between her and Jerry. And that’s in my opinion, is that special external connection to the book.

Aaand… Rachel Lynde didn’t just try to make the practice dance another matchmaking session for her son and Miss Stacy, did she?

I know everybody talks about Anne and Gilbert in this scene, but my eyes were more focused on my spirit animal Ruby – she is so me, being uncomfortable with the whole thing and the touching and whatnot… except in her it is the result of boys and girls being discouraged from making any kind of contact to one another until they’re old enough for courtship according to their community’s standards. What did people at that time think when they did that? That giving young people virtually no sex ed and doing anything and everything they could to keep boys and girls away from each other – did they think this is the way to raise functional, well-informed people? Because seeing poor Ruby here sure makes me think that her society didn’t do a very good job at that. And the fact that all the girls, even the ones that should pass as intelligent and well-read like Anne and Diana, believe they can get pregnant by just the touch of a boy is just another proof that this is not the way to raise teenagers.

One thing that calms me at least a little is that now they have Miss Stacy and she can, albeit a bit awkwardly at first, educate them on the matter. And I love the fact that she mentions consent because that is really important.

And there’s the sugar – the heart eyes, the longing looks, the held gaze… every single trope about looking at someone special is there in that one scene. I love the way they act so expressively with just their eyes. Seriously, kudos to Amybeth and especially Lucas.

Oh my, there it is! That scene from the preview that everybody has been speculating and freaking out about for weeks. I got literal chills, goosebumps and everything. This scene generated a lot of discourse and it was definitely not for nothing.

Oh my, oh my! The dance is done but they just won’t stop staring right into each other’s souls through those fantastically expressive eyes… I might just die right now, but at least I’ll die happy.

Aaand… the moment is gone and now there’s just tension and awkwardness so thick in the air that you could cut them with a knife – and a knife might not even do the job, if you get what I mean.

Ok, I didn’t think things could get any more awkward, but then we have the exchange with Charlie and it’s even more awkward than Moody telling Diana “[her] dress is very… blue” back in the season premiere. But this awkwardness is different. There’s no tension, no real chemistry. At least that’s how I see it.

The parallel between Anne and Gilbert cooking and ranting about the dance and its consequences for them counts as a Shirbert scene, right?

I love Anne with all my heart but right now I wish she could just go away for a second. She’s third-wheeling and making Diana act cold towards Jerry, which might give him the wrong impression and ruin everything…

Also, I wish Diana would confide in Anne about the thing she has going on with Jerry. It couldn’t possibly make matters worse, now could it?

If Jerry was so confused, and then so happy about the handkerchief, it probably wasn’t really his. It must have been left by Diana. The initials, though… the only J.B. in Diana’s family I can think of is Josephine. If it was hers and Diana left it for Jerry, it would be so nice… Ok, why am I being so stupid? She MADE it for him. Especially. J.B. is him and only him right now. Apparently certain other scenes have temporarily deprived me of the ability to think.

The “Is that how reproduction works” scene is awkward, of course, and it is a different, third kind of awkward: not like Shirbert after the dance or like Anne and Charlie after that. It’s that kind of awkward moments that people with anxiety like me think of when they can’t sleep at night. I mean, just imagine asking your big love to give you the talk. Or having to give the talk to them.

Ruby, Ruby, my sweet summer child Ruby… “what has he seen”? He’s literally delivered a child, for one. Unprepared, at that. But seriously, Gilbert being all like “in my medical experience” – okay, we get it, Mr. Mature Adult Doctor. No offense, though, I love him.

That obituary was just about the best homage they could have paid to Mary, and Bash reading the whole thing to Delphine was both heartbreaking and heartwarming. Now that I use those two words for the second time in relation to Mary’s passing, I feel like these are the emotions I feel about it every time. Every single time.

Baby Delly is the most precious little thing I’ve ever seen.

The Barrys are finally doing something really good (I’m not saying they’re bad people or bad parents, just that they can be a little… stuck in their ways) by deciding to help Bash’s family now and realizing they have missed their chance of getting to know Mary while she was there and giving it to them. I sure hope they allow their daughters, both of them, to have the life they chose, not the one that was predetermined for them by parents and tradition and some twisted idea of class distinction and propriety. They deserve to be given that freedom.

The girls’ ritual was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen in my life. How empowering, how beautifully sacred, how emotionally pure and true. And Ruby finally accepted herself as a woman… I relate to that on a deep level because it was hard for me to accept the change from girl to woman when I was that age, too – not so long ago, really. The thing is, there is no real difference between a girl and a woman. I think each one should decide for herself which one she is, and we shouldn’t forget that we have both inside us at all times.

Oh my, oh my! This was honestly one of the most beautiful episode endings I’ve seen on this series and there have been a lot. This baby foal is one of the cutest things ever, a true embodiment of the miracle of life. How fascinating!

So, let’s sum up. In this episode, we saw: the importance of honey; lots of awkward teenage courting; Gilbert going back to medicine; Rachel Lynde sticking her nose into other people’s business even more than usual; Jerry and Diana’s beautiful forbidden romance and character growth; misconceptions about… conception; Shirbert – the whole spectrum of it: awkwardness, tension, angst, heart eyes, lost of eye acting in general; different kinds of awkwardness involving different people, but mostly Shirbert; girl empowerment; and last but not least, the circle of life. I was going to say I want more episodes like this one, but, frankly, I don’t think that’s possible. This was BEAUTIFUL!

#anne with an e #awae #awae season 3 #anne shirley #anne shirley cuthbert #gilbert blythe #diana barry #jerry baynard #ruby gillis #shirbert #anne x gilbert #diana x jerry #jerry x diana #reaction #review #jnkpoetry #jnk poetry #long post #jnk watches awae

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elysianrey · 5 years ago

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tell me things you’ve never said out loud

[part 3 of it’s a slow cinnamon summer. read part 1. read part 2]

(a/n: okay...here it is. the final installment of this little series. thanks for joining me on this crazy ride these past few days! i’m not sure when i’ll get another chance to write for fun, but hopefully i will be nipped by the plot bunnies again soon. Anne and Gil finally get a resolution to this tension. And Gilbert is shirtless again... Enjoy!! xoxo Content T+)

Almost a week passed before Anne saw him again.

It was not so much by choice, at least not to Anne, but rather they were needed for other responsibilities around their respective households. Matthew had caught a late summer cold, which led to Anne tending to his needs, while Marilla cared for little Delphine at the Blythe-Lacroix farm. When Anne wasn’t checking in on Matthew, she was out in the fields with Jerry and his brothers, who offered their aid upon catching word of Matthew’s sickness. The hard labor of weeding out the bad crops or nasty pests allowed Anne to direct her mind onto something other than the single topic it would revolve back to as she laid in her bed each night. Even the exhaustion from the day’s activities was not enough to weary her brain into a dreamless state of sleep which she desperately craved.

For her dreams were where she slipped back into that sweet moment in the garden, or worse, entered new fantasies so vivid and lifelike, Anne would suddenly awake with a gasp, sweat beading on her forehead and along fair skin. She dared not tell a single soul about any of those dreams.

His lingering presence had intertwined itself so deeply into her being that she knew it was fruitless to try an escape it’s captive grip. Otherwise, she would be denying an integral piece of herself, as terrifying as the thought was to her.

Marilla woke her before dawn on Saturday morning with the news that she would be baking and cooking most of the day for the church picnic tomorrow. She was quite beside herself because with watching over Delphine the whole week, she had completely forgotten the important event.

“No worries, Marilla. I will take care of precious Delly today,” Anne reassured her comfortingly, her heart twinging anxiously at the prospect of the boy she was going to inevitably see. She needed to clear the air between them and make things right.

Marilla let out a grateful sigh, “Oh bless you, Anne. For all that you have done the past days,” she replied, her arms drawing the girl into a hug. “Now off you go to get dressed. Bash mentioned that he and Gilbert were going to be up early to start pruning some of the apple trees in the orchard.”

Anne nodded, a suppressed smile on her lips as she turned on her heel to dress herself, which did not go unnoticed by Marilla.

“Make sure Gilbert does not to overwork himself,” she called from the kitchen below as Anne hurriedly traipsed up the stairs.

“Will do!”

+++++

Anne gave the door of the Blythe-Lacroix home a gentle knock and waited patiently for an answer, rather hoping it would be a sleepy-eyed, dark-haired boy. Instead she was received by a groggy-looking Bash, who held a cup of steaming hot coffee in one hand and a fussy baby in the other.

“Good morning, Anne,” he greeted, motioning for her to enter, and pushing the door shut behind them with his shoulder. “It’s nice of you to come.” His attention turned toward the squirming bundle in the crook of his arm. “Shhhhh--there, there Delly. Papa will be back for you soon. Your auntie Anne is here to spend some time with you now,” he cooed, rocking her softly and taking a sip of his coffee.

The redhead couldn’t contain the fond smile that broke over face at the endearing title Bash had dubbed after the countless days she had spent with them upon Mary’s passing and the consuming grief that latched on to Sebastian’s being. Although he was not quite the person she remembered before his beloved returned to her heavenly home in the sky, he was beginning to finally settle into a different type of normal.

Anne stretched out her arms to take the baby, and Bash handed her off. “It is always a treat to spend time with this princess of yours,” she remarked lovingly, looking at Delphine with a sense of delight.

She followed Bash into the kitchen, holding the infant on her hip, and observing him as he set his cup down carefully. “Blythe is out in the orchard already, crazy fool,” he chuckled with a shake of his head. Anne tried her best to keep her face of coolness upon the comment.

“I’ll tell you Anne, the boy has been working himself to the bone lately. Can’t help but think something’s troubling him, but he dodges giving me a proper answer anytime I ask him about it. You wouldn’t happen to know what’s gotten him quieter than a church mouse, would you?”

A fresh wave of guilt overcame her as she bit down on her lip. “Uhhh...no...no clue,” she stuttered quickly, cursing herself for the unconvincing reply. She turned to begin making a warm bottle for Delphine as she searched for something more believable to add. “Maybe he’s worried about Queen’s?” she offered, picking up a glass bottle with one hand and setting it on the table. “I know I am.” This was true. It was a matter of weeks before Marilla and Matthew would be dropping her off at the school in Charlottetown and the remembrance of this fact made her heart ache in melancholy.

Several beats of silence passed between them before she glanced over at him. “Hmm…’suppose you could have a point,” was all he said, his eyes wearing an expression of curiosity and his tone full of doubt. Anne had a feeling he could see straight through her deceit. “Well I best be going out to the orchard. We’ll be coming in later for some lunch. See you my Delly Welly!”

“Say ‘Bye Papa’,” she replied with a grin, holding up Delphine’s hand in a waving motion. Bash returned the wave with one of his own and then turned around to exit through the back door, Anne’s nerves rattling almost as loudly as the darn thing when he shut it closed.

She sighed a breath of relief, turning back to finish her job with the baby’s bottle. His words had not been of a comfort to her in the slightest. The fault for Gilbert’s reserved behavior was entirely her doing, and to think, it could have been avoided altogether if she was not such a dunce when romantic feelings were involved. For an individual who spent a majority of her lifetime envisioning love and devising hundreds of stories filled with romantic dialogue and gestures, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert’s naivety toward navigating it in real-life was mystifying.

The redhead spent the rest of the morning, reading stories, singing songs, and watching Delphine crawl around the house, constantly having to keep an eye on her since the little girl had a tendency to put everything she found in her mouth. By the time the afternoon rolled around, the baby seemed to have worn herself out, and Anne sighed in contentment when she fell fast asleep in her basket.

Anne leaned her head on the wooden bench next to the baby’s basket and closed her eyes, intending only to keep them shut for a brief moment. Working in the field the day before and waking up early that morning had taken a toll on her. Not to mention the restless fits of sleep she experienced every night since Josie’s party. She would only rest for a few minutes longer…

+++++

When she awoke, the first thing she noticed was Delphine was gone. Anne jolted upright, her eyes scanning the floor around her, assuming she must have crawled right out of her basket. How long had she slept for? Muttering curses at herself under her breath, she pulled herself off the ground, smoothing down her dress as she went, and startled in a surprise at the person who sat before her.

“Gilbert,” Anne breathed in greeting, her heart quickening its pace, then dropping down to her stomach when she fully took in his appearance. His muscular, tanned, and very sweaty, exposed chest was on display for her to gawk at from where she stood. He glanced up from where he was eating, and she averted her gaze down to her hands, which she was wringing together desperately in an attempt to regain her composure.

“Anne,” she heard him say in acknowledgement, the sound of his voice like a cold glass of water on a dry day to her parched ears.

She risked a glance back at him, his eyes still very much glued to her. “Delphine--I was looking for--” Anne started, suddenly recalling the missing infant.

Gilbert cut in before she could finish. “Bash took her out for a walk in the orchard. He told me he thought that you could use the break.”

“Oh well that was kind of him, but hardly necessary,” she stammered, her face surely an unattractive shade of dark red. Gilbert took another bite of his food, leaving her to continue standing awkwardly across from him.

Did he have no sense of decency? Of course it was boiling hot outside, but surely that did not mean he could not put his shirt back on when inside of the house. Especially with her being in the same room as him.

“Anne, you’ve been asleep for at least an hour. Bash and I needed the break. It’s hot enough to cause a heat stroke if you’re out there for too long today,” he informed her indifferently, going back to his food again and finally looking away from her.

The girl chewed restlessly on her lower lip, the words that had been building up since the night of Josie’s party threatening to burst out of her at any second. “Gilbert I wanted---” she tried helplessly, her thought catching in her throat. His dark brown eyes lifted from his plate, a guarded expression to them. She had enough.

“I’m sorry. It was wrong of me to leave you without saying a thing about what happened that night. You have every right to be mad and hurt at me. In fact, I almost wish you would yell at me right now because I truly deserve it. You are a good person who is worthy of someone far more sophisticated and beautiful and coherent than me. I am no more than an intoxicated fool who assumed she had some right to kiss you and touch you,” Anne’s voice trembling with unabashed honesty for once, laying herself bare for him to see. “I miss you. Your companionship and wisdom. Your kindness and patience. For I know I can be as stubborn as a mule and hot-headed with my temper and brash with my words--”

“Anne,” Gilbert broke in before she could finish her lament of her worst features, which slightly annoyed her since she wasn’t done listing all of the reasons why he should be cross with her. He rose from his seat and walked toward her, leaning back against the edge of the table so they were only feet apart. Waiting nervously for him to speak, she chanced a glance down at the freckle on his chest, directly beneath his collarbone.

“I was hurt,” he admitted quietly. “You drive me mad sometimes, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert.” His tone raised slightly and the copper-headed girl braced herself for his assault. This is what she deserved and she would take every insult he threw with acceptance.

“But you Anne--you are the most sophisticated, beautiful, and coherent person that I know.” She could have sworn her heart stopped beating in her chest when she heard him utter those words instead. “You have been all of those things, and so much more, since the first day I met you,” he confessed reverently.

His fingers reached out to rest cautiously on her chin and she lifted her head to look at him once more. This time, daring herself to hope again. She could see the softness returning to his face as she lost herself in the affectionate glow of his eyes. Her flesh erupted in goosebumps as his knuckles trailed up and down her cheek in a gentle rhythm, just like they had after she kissed him.

“I--I think I’m desperately in love with you Gil,” Anne gushed so openly that she almost smacked her hand over her mouth in shock. Perhaps he would run for the hills now after hearing such a bold declaration.

To her dismay, a low chuckle bellowed from Gilbert’s chest, then he was laughing to the point of hysterics, tears streaming from the corners of his eyes and running down his cheeks. Anne didn’t know whether to feel offended or content that this is how he chose to respond to her admission of love. “Are you sure you’re not the one who is drunk this time?” she mirthfully questioned, swatting him lightly on the arm.

He regained his composure, pulling her into a close embrace as he grinned down at her, his cheeks dimpling and eyes crinkling in happiness. “Anne-girl, there has been no one for me, but you. The moment you broke that slate across my head, I was a gone man. Never would I have dreamed that you would ever--”

Anne pressed her lips against his, silencing him, for she had heard everything that she already knew to be true deep down. Kissing him in his kitchen, the sun beating down heavily through the window, his hands steadying her, his heartbeat echoing her own, was everything she had ever wanted. She brought her fingers up into his unruly hair, this time feeling damp from sweat, but she could hardly care. His lips broke from hers and started trailing along her cheek then jaw then neck, leaving a searing mark on each inch of skin as he went.

“Gilbert,” she sighed, her brain a blur of euphoria. She could feel his smile in the crook of her neck as he pressed another kiss to a freckle he was quite intent on appreciating.

“Oi Blythe! Shirley!” The teenagers broke apart so rapidly Gilbert nearly toppled over the table. “What are you thinking, setting an example like this, in front of your poor niece,” Bash exclaimed loudly, bouncing the baby in his arms. “Don’t worry Delly, your papa will protect you from these two heathens,” he teased mercilessly, covering Delphine’s eyes.

Anne and Gilbert both released laughs of pent up awkwardness from the unexpected guest and gave each other timid looks.

“Next time, put a shirt on Blythe,” Bash declared, tossing him the one long forgotten from on the table. Gilbert accepted the item and pulled it over his head as Bash left the room, shaking his own head and smirking to himself.

+++++

Gilbert took the opportunity to walk her back to Green Gables after dinner, her hand fitting securely into the crook of his arm. Her head rested lightly against his shoulder. The pair chatted amiably about the events that had unfolded during the week. She recited a new poem she had learned for Matthew, and Gilbert gave her a sidelong look of wonder like he couldn’t quite believe that she was real.

When they got to the gate in front of Green Gables, Anne was mournful to depart from him, despite knowing that they would be reunited tomorrow at the church picnic.

“So---that tragical romance you mentioned back at Mary and Bash’s wedding...,” Gilbert started unexpectedly, his gaze intent on her from across the fence.

“No longer remains to be seen,” Anne finished, reaching to stroke his cheek comfortingly.

Gilbert let out a sigh of relief and ducked to steal another kiss from her before Marilla called out from the front door. “Anne! Is that you?”

They both laughed quietly at the older woman’s outburst. “I guess that’s my cue,” the girl lamented, taking his hand in hers, not quite accepting the events that conspired today were real.

“Goodnight my Anne-girl.” Gilbert gave her hand a squeeze, and let her go, backing up slowly, his eyes remaining on her as he went. Anne watched him blissfully until she heard Marilla call her name again.

She spun around merrily and skipped to the house, her heart soaring with the knowledge that she was loved very dearly by Gilbert Blythe.

tagging: @hecksinki, @blarkeshirbert, @autummn-leaves, @ewolfwitchwisegirl, @leadingmehome, @melanneniel, @youcalledusremember, @neliel-deathberry, @blackxones BECAUSE YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST <3 <3

#anne with an e #awae #shirbert #shirbert ff #anne shirley cuthbert #gilbert blythe #anne x gilbert #anne with an e season 3 #no spoilers here though #final installment #here's to episode 5 my friends!#WE'RE ALMOST THERE #ellie writes

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whiskeykneat · 6 years ago

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One More Saturday Night [1]

Notes: trying something a little different since the ao3 link doesn't seem to be working for some people. I made a cut but if it doesn't work this is tagged #long post. // Summary: For everyone else, it's just one more Saturday night in 1964, but for Gale Hawthorne and Peeta Mellark, they’ve both received letters that will change the course of their lives forever. // Rating: this chapter is T, but some parts will be N*FW

I. Fortunate Son (1964)

CHAPTER ONE

It's eight o'clock on a sultry July night in Twelvetrees, West Virginia. Down at the carhop, Katniss Everdeen has just switched shifts with Joanna Mason, and as she leans against the freezer, stretching her sore calves, she's unaware that the boy who's just rolled up in the parking lot with his brothers, the one who carries fifty pound sacks of flour to the back door and gets tongue tied in her presence, would give her the world if he could.

While Joanna slicks red lipstick on her sultry mouth and clips on her garters under the flickering yellow light of the washroom, Peeta Mellark sits in the parking lot of the carhop and turns the words he'll say to Katniss Everdeen over and over again in his mouth, the official decision letter from the draft board burning a hole in his pocket.

He ain't needed here. Got some brothers. That son of yours has always been useless. Let the army straighten him out, Mr Mellark. His mother's words feel like they've been seared into his soul, deeper than the burns from his many years of tending the ovens in their family bakery.

[[MORE]]

"Peet! Cat got your tongue?" Delly giggles, elbowing Peeta in the side. Delly is like a sister to him, they grew up side by side in the garden between the shoe shop and the bakery, fast friends since the day she found him hiding from his mother under the rose bushes.

Unlike Peeta, Delly has always known what she'll do when she grows up, and that's marrying the boy with the easy, charming smile who sits even now with one arm slung over her shoulders -- Peeta's second eldest brother, Wheatley. Their lives are laid out before them like the instructions for a gingerbread house, all it takes it for the pieces to be iced together, like a fairy story, falling into place.

The letter crinkles in Peeta's shirt pocket when he pats it, and as if he knows what's on Peeta's mind, Wheatley nudges him unsubtly. "You gonna tell her?" Peeta has never been close to his older brothers, and this spirit of bonhomie at the eleventh hour feels like they've already picked out a plot at the VA cemetery for him.

Peeta shrugs, feeling a blush heat his cheeks as Katniss skates on by.

"My, I wish I could pull off those dungarees!" Delly chirps, pointing at Katniss.

"I think she looks..." Like a stone cold fox. "...Outta sight." And Katniss does. She's got her dark hair pinned up like old posters of Rosie the Riveter, with a plain scrubbed face and not a hint of makeup. Yet something about her is still so inexpressibly arresting that Peeta can't help but stare at her, lost in thought, as she skates between the cars, taking orders left and right.

She's a devil on skates: her form needs work, but she can serve five cars in under fifteen minutes, with nary a drop of root beer float spilled in a single lap. She never smiles, but Peeta knows any boy in town would love to take her to Lookout Point for some necking. The sexual revolution may not have made it this deep into the mountains yet, but when there's nothing else to do, people make their own fun.

Still, the line is drawn between the Seam and Town, Katniss is the girl from the wrong side of the tracks, and Peeta may not want to admit it to himself, but that's the real reason any town boy would take her out, to see if she'd go all the way, or if she'd keep her legs locked up tight.

As she passes by the finned Buick Electra, she looks up and meets Peeta's eye, and though she never breaks the flow, he sees her look back again, and he could swear she almost smiles.

•••

I don't know how you do it, Joanna had said earlier, with a tone in her voice that might have been a slap or a smile. You might just make something of yourself and get out of this town, kiddo. What she doesn't say is written on every silver scar that marks her flesh, but Katniss lets Joanna keep her secrets, and that's why they're friends.

When Joanna slams out the back door, Katniss hears a Caddy roar in the alley like a tiger, and there's the scream of her friend's high laughter before the only sound left in the waiting night is crickets and the catchy song trickling from the kitchen radio: Do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do...

For a moment, Katniss is lost in the past, and she stares out the back door as the moths flutter at the neon lights, feeling every year of her eighteen summers and twenty more besides, as though she's faded to a pale reflection of herself before she's ever gotten her or Prim out of this place.

"You look like you're run off your feet, girl. Sit down and take a breather. Them Town kids can wait." Chaff plucks the order pad from Katniss's fingers and starts putting up the tickets as he steers her to a chair beside the fan. "'Sides, Mitch would kill me if you fainted on my watch." Chaff passes Katniss an ice cold bottle of pop, and she feels herself sag in relief.

Chaff once flew planes with Abernathy, back in the war with Germany, but beyond that she hardly knows him at all, for Chaff never talks about the city he left to come to their little town that sleeps as the rest of the modern world passes them by.

The bottle of pop sweats in her hands, and it makes her think of the way her pa would bring home one as a treat when she was little, to be shared sip by tiny sip with her baby sister, each fizzy bubble held in their mouths for as long as they could, to make the sweetness last.

"Shit, Miss Undersee was supposed to be here an hour ago." Chaff smacks a hand on the counter, but Katniss can tell he doesn't half care. "If she's late one more time, I'll fire her ass. I don't care who her daddy is."

Before Katniss can make up an excuse for Madge (the secret of how sick Madge's mama is lies on her tongue like a wedge of pitch, sticking her gums together), Chaff passes her a twist of greasy fries and a milkshake (strawberry, like the wild berries she used to sell door to door with her best friend Gale, before he went down the mine). She can't believe how ravenous she is, anyone would think she hadn't eaten since breakfast, and that's as close to the truth as she's willing to admit to herself.

Ever since the mine explosion that killed her father, back in '55, Katniss has had to shift for herself and her sister, keeping their small family afloat. The mine owner sent their mama to a sanitarium in Richmond to recuperate. When she returned, she seemed half the person she used to be, and had to return again and again to be put back together for something called hysteria.

But that's all water under the bridge now, and Katniss is no longer that frightened eleven year old girl, forced to survive on the kindness of strangers. Abernathy took pity on her and hired her as soon as she turned fifteen to work for him at the carhop, and she'll spend her life trying to repay a debt that can never be quantified.

Mr Abernathy passed out hours ago, he's almost as fond of white lightning as Katniss is of making extra tips, anything to get out of this town before it's too late. She's got a scholarship to the university, the same place Abernathy went to, even though she's no more likely to study physics than she is to sprout wings and fly away from the dust of this coal town.

At midnight, when the neon lights shut down, and all the moths in town flock to the lustrous glow the stars make over the quarry pond, she and Chaff will use all of their combined strength to roll Abernathy over and make sure he doesn't drown in his own vomit. That's part of her debt, and she'll be deep in it until she shuffles off this mortal coil.

So when Madge bursts through the door, not a single strand of blonde hair out of place, Katniss is too full of sugar and grease to protest when Madge insists she'll take the next orders out.

"Been pilin' up." Chaff nods to the tickets. "That little Cartwright gal came by and dropped 'em off while Katniss took a breather. By the sounds of it, they're gittin' liquored up out there." But he doesn't make a move to stop Madge from going out the door.

Madge blows a strand of golden hair off her forehead and adjusts her headband, her pale fingers flying over the laces in an intricate pattern as she re-ties her skates. They're pristine white, the kind that Katniss's little sister Primrose would give her eye teeth for, but nothing in the Seam stays white for long, not with the coal dust that gets onto everything, coating it like funerary ash.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she says to Katniss, biting her lip and looking away from her friend. Chaff makes a sound of deep disgust in his throat, and passes Madge the tray. Once she's skated from sight, he turns back to the fryer, and turns up the radio.

Come gather 'round friends and I'll tell you a tale / Of when the red iron pits ran a-plenty / But the cardboard-filled windows and old men on the benches / Tell you now that the whole town is empty (North Country Blues, Bob Dylan)

•••

Madge has skated eleven blocks to get here, refusing to take her daddy's car like some spoiled little debutante, although she might have a year ago, before she went to university, before everything began to fall apart. There's a run in her stockings that will have to be repaired soon, and a burning in her lungs that reminds her she's alive. Now that she's been to university and back, this town feels smaller than ever, but it's a good feeling, as if nothing bad could ever happen here, cocooned from the world outside.

When the lights turn down low, and the town sleeps, she'll lie in her bed and listen to the hum of the locusts in the sycamore tree, where the initials M+G are still scarred across the trunk, as if life followed a pattern, laid out like a children's jumping rhyme.

•••

It is quite propitious, as far as plans go, Miss Undersee. Seneca dabbed at his lips with his napkin. His mustache was damp with moisture, and she felt her stomach curdle at the way it gleamed wetly under the lights. She just hoped he got this whole breakup over with soon, because she was sure that one more minute of having to endure his rubbery lips and his mechanical groping on her knee would make her commit an entirely unladylike act.

As Madge fantasized about flipping Seneca the bird, he laid a clammy hand over hers and took a deep breath. With my money and your breeding, I think a marriage would suit the pair of us, don't you agree?

But my degree... I haven't finished it yet. Madge's smile froze in place, suddenly entirely too aware of the predatory gazes of the waitstaff, as though the entire moment had been orchestrated. She felt blindsided, and furious all at once. But good manners won out, and she smiled again, with a cheer she did not feel.

Seneca laughed, a touch of condescension creeping into his voice. I'm not marrying you for your mind, Margareta. Your father said you might be stubborn.

Madge reeled back in shock, stunned. Suddenly it all seemed too much: the soft candlelight felt as garish as the cheap lights of a carnival fanfare, the white wine in her glass tasted like rotgut mash. She tried to tug her hand back from Seneca's, but he held it fast. You talked to my daddy already? Her voice seemed to be coming from far away.

Why, of course I did, darling. Seneca squeezed her arm tight, a warning. Now, if you want to finish your university degree by mail, that's fine with me, but you won't need any of that when you're Mrs Seneca Crane, wife to the next senator of West Virginia. He continued his monologue, the room fading to a single pinprick of light until all Madge could see was that flashy diamond, all she could hear was the sound of champagne corks and applause, and all she could feel was the tightness closing in on her, as if Seneca's ring was around her neck instead of her finger.

#long post #gadge #gale/madge #gale x madge #everlark #historical au #hunger games #hunger games fic #underthorne #gale hawthorne #madge undersee #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark

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everlarkbirthdaygifts · 6 years ago

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Happy Birthday, moviefangal!

Today, we wish Happy Birthday to @moviefangal! We hope you’re having a wonderful, wonderful day, and that your cake was absolutely perfect! To keep your party going a little while longer, the lovely @herainab has written a story just for you!

Title: Karaoke Dream

Gift for: moviefangal who requested “That asshole stole my song at karaoke night” with an everlark twist.

Rating: Mature

Happy birthday! Hope your day is wonderful and hopefully you enjoy my spin on this little take on Everlark and their karaoke.

---

“So we’ll meet at the bus at 6 to head off for dinner." Jo, our trip leader, reminds us. "I'll head in and check us all in and meet you where Thom parks the bus.” She gathers her things and jumps off the bus just as Thom our driver pulls up outside the hostel camping site and lets her out.

Thom easily reverses the bus down throughout the hostel camping site, and we stay on the bus as we wait for Jo. The sun was warm out, and she warned us it could take a while to check in, so we sit and wait while Thom makes fast work of unloading the 35 bags from the bus before he gets to work on cleaning the outside and we stay in the aircon waiting for Jo.

"Oh, it's cobblestone." Madge curses as she steps back onto the bus and sits beside me. She literally brought her whole bedroom with her, and she's dragging the suitcase around and cursing every single staircase she sees or Cobblestone Street she has to wheel her bag over.

“I hope we’re not too far away.” She states as we climb out of the bus with Jo’s arrival. She's a packhorse with her backpack on her back, and her camera bag slung over her shoulders.

“It’s flat I think.” I tell her, craning my neck to see what the street is like.

“Thank fuck.”

“I told you that you need to get in with the guys and get them to carry your bag.” I whisper to her. “Use those blue eyes of yours.”

“But I have a boyfriend.”

"Who's an arsehole and dropped out of the trip." I remind her. He didn't give a reason, but he didn't want to go anymore. I'm pretty sure he's fooling around with some 18-year-old girl. “You don’t have to sleep with them, just thank them with a drink or something else.”

“But that gives the wrong impression.”

"You set the boundaries." I tell her. "Besides, I think Gale boy is keen on you. He's always checking you out and gets nervous talking to you.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah right.”

“I’d maybe hang back and see what he does.” I look over my shoulder to see him standing just beside the bus in the shade with a few others “Make sure you grunt and moan a lot and curse the ground as you drag your bag along. He’ll swoop in like a knight in shining armour.”

“I have a boyfriend.”

“Doesn’t mean you have to sleep with him.” She thinks any favour she accepts means she has to sleep with the guy who offers. That’s what her arsehole boyfriend makes her think. She needs rid of him immediately, and I hope 40 days of travelling without him will make her realise that. Will make her realise how beautiful, kind and caring she is and that she deserves the world.

I was glad he dropped out of the trip to give us time to spend together, reminiscing and reconnecting from our high school days. If he were here, it'd be a drag, and she wouldn't be allowed to have any fun or do her own thing.

“OK, I’ll hand you out your keys. We’ll meet here at 6 pm to head for dinner. I'll collect the money from those who haven't paid me yet also." Jo says.

She hands the keys out as she reads down the list and everyone starts to move off slowly.

"312, we've got Katniss, Madge, Jacinta and Delly." Jo reads aloud. Delly is up front and grabs the room keys for us, and we head off in the direction of our cabin.

The ground is a little uneven, and our cabin is on the far side of the site. I'm glad for my luggage choice and throw my pack over my shoulders.

“You right, Madge?” I ask her as we start to follow Delly to our cabin.

"Madge, do you want a hand with your suitcase?" Gale asks her, and I smile to myself.

"Oh, you don't have to." She tells him.

"No, it's fine." He smiles at her, and they walk down the street together, Gale managing his own pack, daypack and then Madge’s oversized suitcase over the uneven ground. "We're right next to each other."

I don't wait up for them and continue on my way, listening to the small talk. I can tell Gale likes Madge and I know she is attracted to him but with her relationship status hanging over her she's closed off and cautious at what she says.

“He likes you.” I claim as soon as the door closes.

“Shush.” She says. “He can probably hear you.”

“Oh, stop being a baby.” I tell her, dumping my things on the floor beside the bunk. “Just, don’t be a stick in the mud.” I sigh. “Please just keep having a good time and don’t ever question anything you do. This is your holiday, your energy, your time and your experience. You only get out what you put in and moping around and thinking what Cato is going to think if you do something isn’t worth it.”

“We’ve been together for four years.”

“I know.” I smile at her, wiping the tears from her eyes. “But sometimes change is as good as a holiday. You’re not the same person I graduated high school with, and I can see how much he is eating away at your soul. My aunt wasted 18 years with a deadbeat guy. I don't want you doing the same thing." She nods her head. "Let's have the time of our lives tonight. I hear there's karaoke." I grin.

We work like ants to get ready for our evening. It’s the first big evening we’ve had out in a week, and everyone is keen to get dressed up and make themselves look a little more human and let loose tonight. There's a tag team for the shower, we crowd around the mirror and help each other as we decide on outfits and do our hair.

“What time do we have?” Jacinta asks.

“5:55.” I tell her.

“Shit.” She cusses, reaching for her mascara.

“You look fine.” Delly tells her as she finishes putting her shoes on.

“I look like a mess.”

“You look spectacular.” Madge reiterates. “Don’t stress.” She tells her, handing her a room key. “I’m heading to the bus if anyone else is ready.”

I follow her and quickly check in with Prim, replying to her message.

“So, are you going to get up and sing at karaoke?” She asks me.

I laugh. "You know me."

“You’re amazing, Katniss and after Barcelona, everyone loved you. They’re hanging out for you to sing again.”

“I was pretty drunk in Barcelona.” I laugh.

"You were, but you were great." She smiles “I’ll come up with you if that makes you feel better.”

“I’d love for you to sing with me.” I hug her.

My first job at uni was at a Japanese restaurant that was also popular on a Thursday, Friday and Saturday night doubling as a karaoke bar. A lot of the uni students would stumble by on a Tuesday night for cheap Tuesday. They'd get a cheap feed, drinks and would usually stick around for karaoke and nothing was more rewarding than watching drunken uni students sing off key and drunkenly sway together as they sang along to the lyrics.

I have fond memories from my days working as a waitress there, the owners were brilliant, the staff were great to work for, and the customers were always fantastic. I got to the stage of being shift supervisor eventually and in charge of close from Tuesday to Thursday night and the staff would usually stick around after the customers had left to have our own sing-a-long and drinks as we cleaned and packed up.

There I established my go-to karaoke playlist.

We had already done karaoke in Barcelona, and I knew it was time for another song in my top 5 as I couldn’t double up again. I was skipping a few going to song number 5.

Drinks are flowing by the time we settle into dinner. Our group takes up the room, and we are happy with our 12 euro jug cocktails and meals.

“Katniss, are you getting up to sing?” One of the girls yells down the table.

"Hell yeah, she is." Madge claims, slamming a shot down in front of me. "Aren't you Kat?" She says, holding her glass up to toast with mine.

I down the shot, shaking my head at the burn of the vodka. “Hell yeah. You all better stay.”

“We aren’t going anywhere.”

We're pretty close to tipsy by the time we eat our dinner and head into the next room where there is a small group gathered already waiting in anticipation for the karaoke night.

“There’ll probably be another Tribute group and a Career group too.” Jo tells us as she sits down at the table beside me. “So it’s going to be a little crazy.”

“You getting up to sing, Jo?” Thresh asks her.

“I don’t ever turn down an opportunity to sing. Why don’t we go up together?” She suggests.

“Deal.” Thresh tells her, clinking his glass.

“So what are we singing?” Madge asks me.

“Latch.” I tell her. “The Disclosure version.”

She nods in approval and orders another jug for us to drink as the room starts to fill. There's music being played for now, Jo and Thresh getting up to be the first to sing.

We’re on our feet when Thresh and Jo take the stage and the familiar sound of ‘A Thousand Miles’ starts, and we go crazy for them, singing along with them and cheering for them when they finish.

“Let’s go line up.” Madge suggests as the line is starting to grow. “Bring your drink.”

We wait in line, singing and dancing along. We wince when those tone-deaf get up on and sing out of time.

“Man I don’t know if they’re wasted or just terrible karaoke singers.” Madge says to me.

"I'd say a bit of both." I wince at the note being missed. "No, they are just terrible."

“This bring back memories from the karaoke bar?”

I nod, feeling a little sad that I haven't been there for two years now, having since moved on to my career. "I miss it now and then. They were my little family. I miss especially our closing shifts."

“I bet you do.” She smiles. “Oh well, make them proud again tonight.”

"I will."

A blond guy four ahead of us takes the stage by himself. Madge and I chat, showing each other memes on our phone to pass the silence in between the singers.

“Gale is looking at you.” I tell her as casually as I can.

“He is not.”

"In five seconds do a casual sweep of our table, and you'll see." I tell her. "5,4,3,2 and 1."

Madge casually looks up from her phone and scans the room, her eyes quickly going over our group and our table where Gale is focused on her.

“He likes you.” I tell her for the thousandth time.

“He doesn’t.”

“Madge, he does. I wished you give him the time of day cause he’s a nice guy.”

“He doesn’t even live near me.”

“You’re already jumping to….” The familiar tune of Latch begins breaking me from my sentence. “That arsehole stole my karaoke song.” I swing around to the stage to see the culprit. “Fucking arsehole. I was going to sing that song.” I whine, trying to make him out through the stage lights. "For fuck sakes."

“Katniss, it’s fine.” Madge tells me. “We can sing your next song.”

"I don't want to. I wanted to sing this song." I tell her as Blondie sings it. He doesn't butcher it and is on time. "That arsehole stole my song."

“It’s just a song.”

I know I'm overreacting, but this was one of my songs. I've had my heart set on singing this since we left Barcelona last week.

“Come on, we’ll sing Dancing Queen or something.”

‘Now I got you in my space I won’t let go of you Got you shackled in my embrace I’m latching on to you’

I look up at the stage again and death glare the song stealer. He has no idea who I am but he’ll be the arsehole who stole my karaoke song.

“Have a nice evening.” I say to the last customers who walk out the door a little tipsy. Thursday karaoke has picked up again with the warmer weather and we’re encountering a lot of work groups coming for dinner and staying to sing and have a laugh.

I've been the shift supervisor for just over six months now, and I love it. I know this place like the back of my hand, I have the confidence to fix any issue, to direct staff and deal with the few complaints we may have. The team repays me with their enthusiasm and attention to detail, and we always have a good night. I think most of them are excited for our close as we have our staff karaoke party.

I lock the door after them and watch my team move around like ants cleaning up the remaining tables, sweeping and mopping the floors and having the back of house tidied. It's just the wait staff, barman and dishwasher remaining, the cooks left when we finished our dinner service at 9.

“What’s your poison of choice tonight?” Peeta asks me from behind the bar.

“Something sweet I think.”

“I don’t know how you drink so much sweet stuff.” He comments, turning his nose up with a big smile. “I can’t do it.”

“We all didn’t grow up in a bakery.” I tease.

“I suppose that’s true.” He laughs. “Do you trust me to make you something?”

“Always. You’ve never let me down.” I smile. “I’m just going to take the money to the office.”

“Do you want to ask the rest of them what they’re having?”

“Sure thing.”

I lock the money in the safe, happy its balanced for the night and lock up the office before checking in on the rest of the staff. The waiter and waitress are helping the dishwasher with the remaining glasses and jugs and also starting on the floors.

I get their orders, bringing them to Peeta who has finished my cocktail and presents it to me on the bar.

“What is it?”

“Try it.”

I take a sip, trying to guess the flavours of this concoction. He liked trying them out on me before he added them to the specials menu the next week.

“Strawberry something?”

“Strawberry mojito.”

“This is nice.” I compliment him. “I could have a few of these.”

“I can drive you home if you want to have a few.” He laughs as he opens the beers and the can of Coke.

“Oh no, we have our exam tomorrow, don’t want to be foggy for that.”

“We’ll be fine.” He reminds me. “You’ve had a great tutor and haven’t fallen behind once.”

“Well, tomorrow might be the day.”

“Then that means I’ve failed you as a student.”

"Well, if you actually tutored me in statistics and not in your impressive movie collection."

“Hey, I didn’t hear any complaints from you.”

I stick my tongue out at him, and he laughs.

I got him the job when we returned last year for the semester. He was in my class, one I had to do to pick up the units for my degree in Environmental Science. So I enrolled in stats and Peeta has been helping me throughout the semester as he was finishing his degree in business management that he was cruising through. We’d partnered together on assignments and become fast friends.

They were in need of a bartender at work and I asked him to come and meet the owner that afternoon, and he started working that evening. He's boosted business, and we're busy every night of the week, especially with the uni students who eat for cheap on a Tuesday night.

The three of them come out from the back, and I take the broom from Brody. "You're up Ben." I tell him, pushing him towards the karaoke machine.

He puts up a small fight but doesn’t complain as he searches for his song and starts singing his go-to of Michael Jackson.

It’s our little routine. We sing. One of us sweeps the front, and the other follows behind with the mop. We dance as we close, we sing, and we laugh.

I sweep the floor, close to the bar singing along to Billie Jean and find myself in Peeta’s arms as we dance, failing the moonwalk and any other dance move we try.

‘Billie Jean is not my lover She's just a girl who claims that I am the one” Peeta sings as he moonwalks around me.

“I think you wished you were Michael Jackson.” I laugh as a sip my drink. He nods, does a spin and crotch grab as he finishes the chorus. “Don’t go too hard.”

Ben finishes, leaving for the night and Amy and Jax take the microphones and start their usual duet.

“They are so into each other.” I comment as I lean against the bar and Peeta sips his bar.

“Oh, young love.”

“They’re a year younger than us.” I laugh.

"Still, they're cute. It's like they are 14 years old." He says. "They blush and go shy around each other. They’ll get together eventually. I mean, they’re singing High school musical songs together. That’s true love.”

“Stop it. I wish I had someone to sing high school musical with.” I admit.

“Well, we can sing high school musical if you want.”

I turn and smile at him and see him smiling slightly.

“It’s fine. I’ve got my karaoke playlist.”

“So what will it be tonight? Torn, Dancing Queen, Believe, Since you’ve been gone or will you bring out some classic Queen?”

“I’ve got something new.”

“You do?”

"Yep, I think this will go on my list."

“You're branching out. I love it." He smirks as he drinks his beer.

“Thought you would.” I smile.

The two lovebirds finish their song and Peeta pushes me forward. “Time for you to sing, songbird.”

I bite my lip to stop myself from smiling too much like an idiot and try to compose myself before I have to face him. It's a song he got me into recently on our many study and tutoring sessions. It has always happened to be on in the car if he drives me to work and he's made me obsessed. When the music plays I see the smile on his face, and I try not to watch him for too long, or I'll know I'll go red.

“Now I got you in my space I won’t let go of you Got you shackled in my embrace I’m latching on to you”

I end with massive applause like usual and thank them all. Amy and Jax leave as it's nearing 1 am, knowing it's time to head on out as well.

“So, is Latch going to become one of your go to’s now?” He asks me as he shoves his hands into his coat pockets and leads me to his car.

“I think so.” I chuckle. “You think it’s a good karaoke song?”

"Yeah, I do." He smiles. "I really do. I mean, anything you sing you nail, so you don't have to worry about what you choose." He tells me as Ariana Grande comes on in the car.

“Thanks.” I’m thankful it’s dark in the car so he can’t see my reddened cheeks. “I think that’s going to be second on my list.”

“I’ve never met someone with who actually has a karaoke list.” He laughs. “They usually have one song and just stick with it. You have a top 5."

I laugh cause it sounds a little ridiculous. “You forgot my top 5 duet list as well.”

“You have a top 5 duet list? Why haven’t I heard this?”

"Because I only duet when I've found the best duet partner, and I haven't found them just yet."

"Well, I hope for you're sake you do." He smiles. "Or you humour me one night and allow me to join you. If you allow it?"

“I’ll allow it.”

"Can't believe the arsehole stole my song." I mutter as he finishes the song to a wild applause from his group.

Blondie bows, lapping up the attention and jumping down the stairs to be surrounded by his group who hand him his beer.

“Don’t worry about him.” Madge tells me. “Do you want another drink?”

“Sure, thanks.”

She heads off to buy us two drinks while we wait in line, knowing it'll be a while before we can go up. I'm sulking big time over my stolen song and don't know if I want to back out because of it. I'm acting childish, and I know our group will be disappointed if I back down now.

“Let’s sing some Ariana Grande.” I suggest to Madge when she comes back with my drink. I've gotten over my tantrum slightly, and I don't want to put a downer on the evening. Especially Madge's when I told her to lighten up and live a little. I want her enjoying herself tonight, and if I'm not enjoying myself, she'll tap out and go back to the hostel early. “One last time?”

“Hell yeah.” She states as we clink our glasses together and drink.

It's our time to shine, and we step up on stage, grabbing our mics and putting in our request. Our group cheers us on, and I smile over at Madge as we get ready to sing.

I feel the music, enjoying the moment and the fact I'm standing up in some Florence bar singing in front of close to a hundred strangers.

Majority of the crowd dance and sing with each other, swaying to the beat and letting the alcohol do the talking.

A body emerges from the crowd. It's blondie the song stealer who makes it his mission to see who is singing this tune. A familiar song. A song that brings up memories of what seems like a lifetime ago.

“So one last time I need to be the one who takes you home One more time I promise after that, I'll let you go”

I see who the song stealer is and I’m shocked. It all makes sense now.

“Baby I don't care if you got her in your heart All I really care is you wake up in my arms One last time I need to be the one who takes you home”

I stuff up the lyrics, lose my timing and am thankful for Madge who keeps up the pace. I match her, keep the pace and try to not think of the moment we last saw each other. That Saturday night in the car park behind the restaurant. That moment after graduation. The end of our uni chapter and the start of the rest of our lives.

We were going different ways, new careers and experiences to live. He was going back to his hometown to work in his parents' bakery while he painted and decorated the cakes. I had a local government job. We were living on opposite ends of the state. Separated by distance and long stretches of highway. We broke our promise to each other and we both knew our goodbye in the car park was goodbye.

I can feel the knot of anticipation in my stomach. I can feel his hands on my body. The feel of his lips on my own. My heartbeat pounding inside my chest. I can still feel the wetness of his tears that I wiped them away.

I can’t abandon ship just yet, despite the emotions taking over my body. I do my best to pull my composure together and finish the song without doing something stupid like cry.

I turn to Madge for the ending and sing it, focusing on her.

“One last time I need to be the one who takes you home”

“What the hell?” Madge asks me as she takes my hand and we head down the stairs of the stage.

"I don't know, but I need a bathroom."

“Come on.”

She sneaks me off to the ladies room away from him.

“Have I seen a ghost?” I ask her as I sit on the toilet seat.

“No.” Madge tells me.

"He stole my karaoke song." I say to Madge. She doesn't know of the significance of my karaoke list or how it was Peeta that introduced me to this song. "I mean, it's not my song, but he stole it from me. He knew."

"I don't think he knew you were here, Kat. I think it was just a coincidence.” She says to me through the stall. “Did you know he was travelling?”

"I did, but I didn't think he was here in Italy the same time as me. I thought he was doing his own thing and bumming around."

"He's a Career." Madge laughs.

"I can't believe he went travelling with the Careers when he could have been a tribute." I laugh. "Bloody Careers." It was a running joke among our group, especially when we ran into the Careers. There was a slight rivalry between the two travelling groups, and the Careers had a reputation compared to the tribute travellers.

I wash my hands, check my hair and makeup and inhale a deep breath.

“Time to face the music.” I exhale as Madge stands beside me.

“Let’s go.”

I hesitate for a moment but follow Madge out of the ladies towards the party. I scan the room for Peeta but am pulled around the corner and against the wall.

Peeta stands in front of me, just staring at me unsure if he’s seen a ghost or not.

“Katniss, you alright?” Madge asks me.

"I'm fine. I'll catch you later." I tell her, and she walks off to join our group. A few who watch with curious eyes at the blond stranger that's pushed me against a wall and standing inches away from my body.

“I wasn’t sure if it was you up there.” He finally gets out. “I thought someone must have spiked my drink or I was hallucinating.” He breathes out. “Am I dreaming?”

“No, you’re not.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question.” He smiles, biting his lip to stop the smile from growing too wide. He's like a schoolboy. A nervous schoolboy. The same nervous schoolboy that stood before me almost two years ago and poured out his heart to me. But I try not to think of that and instead focus on getting up him. “You arsehole, you stole my karaoke song.” I say, hitting his chest.

"In my defence, I didn't think you'd be here."

“You knew that was one of my songs.”

“And it’s been my song since we left each other.” He admits shyly to me with a tear escaping his eye.

I feel my heartbeat pick up as I stand in front of him. I can feel his pain, and despite the façade of him lapping up the attention, it hurts him to sing this song.

“How drunk are you?” I ask him.

“I picked the Disclosure version for a reason.” He tells me. “I’d be a ball of tears if I sang the acoustic version.”

“You’re still an arsehole for singing that song.”

“I’m sorry.” He smiles and chuckles slightly. “How can I make it up to you?”

“I think I should be asking you that question.”

He shakes his head. “Life happened, it was neither of our faults. I mean, I should have tried harder. I was scared. Scared of it not working and having a broken heart.”

“But isn’t having a broken heart count for something? Count for having a go?” I put to him.

“I’ve missed you so much, Katniss.” He tells me. “Come on, I owe you a drink.”

He buys us both a drink, and we stand off to the side where it’s a little quieter than at the tables in front of the stage.

Flashbacks from our last moments together fill my mind. The rain pouring. The bass of music coming from some club nearby. Roaming hands. Discarded clothes. Bare bodies. The leather of the backseat. Ragged breathing. Moans of pleasure.

His hand rests on my hip, his thumb drawing circles, reminiscent of that night. I can’t hold back the feelings for too much longer. I want him in my arms. Want him to cover my body with his own. Feel his lips on my own lips.

“Katniss, I should have tried harder. But you’ve been worth the wait. I made a pact with myself that when I returned home from this trip that I was going to throw all my cards on the table and see if you wanted to try dating. I’d have found a way to make it work. I’d relocate if it meant being with you.” He tells me. “If you’d allow it?”

“You still stole my karaoke song.” I tell him with a smirk.

"Well, I didn't know…"

“Shut up.”

“What?”

“Just shut up and kiss me.”

I lean up on my tiptoes, tired of playing games and initiate what I want. I've never been one to make the first move, but he is frustrating with nervous talking. I place my lips on his firmly, shutting him up.

“Oh.” He says swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Just kiss me.” I demand. “There’s time for talking later.”

He gets the idea and kisses me back, pushing me against the wall with his body pressing tightly against mine, as we get lost in the kiss. The feel of each other after two years.

“I’ve missed you so much.” I murmur against his lips.

“Me too.” He murmurs back as his lips trail across my cheek and my jaw.

I can hear our names being cheered from the tables in between karaoke songs and Peeta holds his middle finger up to them, which gets a round of applause and more cheering. I bury my face into his neck, and he just holds me in his arms.

“I do have one problem.” I whisper.

“And what is that?”

“You’re a Career.” I laugh as I appear from his neck.

“Guilty.” He admits, holding his hands up in the air. “Sorry, I was just following my mate.”

“I’ll let you off for now.” I warn him.

“I’m glad.” He smiles and leans his forehead against mine. “Am I still the arsehole who stole your karaoke song?”

“Yes.”

“Can I make it up to you with some gelato? I happen to know a place with the best gelato. It’s Nigella Lawson approved.”

“Well then, it must be good.” I smile. “Let me just tell my friend.”

“So, it went well with the arsehole who stole your karaoke song?” Madge laughs as I embrace her.

“Well, so far. He’s taking me for gelato.” I tell her. “Will you be right?”

"Yeah, I think everyone will be out for a while yet." She smiles. "And Gale promised to take me home when I was ready."

“Look after her.” I tell Gale.

“I will.”

“Promise me. She’s my best friend.”

“I pinkie promise.”

I smile at him and then at Madge. “I’ll message you when I’m heading home.”

She embraces me one last time. “Go, enjoy your gelato date with blondie the arsehole who stole your karaoke song.”

I smirk at her, grab my bag and say goodbye to my trip leader before I find Peeta and take his hand in mine.

…

Three years later

“I think I knew from that moment they left the bar together that I should start preparing my speech. I mean, they were making out against a wall and then left for gelato. I mean, what type of guy makes out with a girl for ten minutes then takes her out for gelato? Especially a 23-year-old male?” She laughs as she speaks to the room. “I knew that when she messaged me on her way back to the hostel at 6 am that it went well and that she didn't hate the arsehole who stole her karaoke song. She advises me there was no funny business that night. It is still up for discussion. Especially since she didn't show up at the hostel until that morning.” She laughs. “But we are here today, celebrating the marriage of them both so it must have gone very well." She laughs and turns to us, wiping the tears from her cheek. "I'm going to ruin my beautiful makeup." She laughs. I see the sparkle of the diamond on her ring finger and smile, cuddling up to Peeta even more. "That night, both of our lives changed. I mean not changed, the next chapter of our lives began. We thought those six weeks away was our life-changing experience, but it was those moments within our trip that started the next stage of our lives. Thank you for inviting me on that trip. It's a trip I'll cherish right until we're old and grey and surrounded by our grandchildren who ask how we met their grandfathers.” She smiles through the tears. “To my best friend, Katniss, may you’re life be filled with many great moments to come with the fellow who stole your karaoke song.” She laughs. “Cheers.”

I embrace Madge, kissing her cheek and thanking her.

"I now call Katniss and Peeta up who have a few words they'd like to say." Finnick calls for us.

I was stepping out of my comfort zone and speaking in front of everyone gathered here today. The room was made up with the close friends from our trips three years ago who we've stayed in contact with and many we've used to crash on their couches as we've done our travelling the last couple of years.

"Wow, this is fucking nerve-racking," I admit to everyone in the audience. "Sorry kids, Aunty Katniss didn't say a naughty word."

“She’s just a little drunk.” Peeta tells them all with a cheeky grin. His nieces and nephews sit front and centre with their mothers and laugh at me. I'm not drunk. Just my nervousness has gotten the better of me.

“Aunt Katniss.” Patrick exclaims, rolling his eyes. “Not again.”

This breaks the tension, and I’m silently thanking Peeta’s 9-year old nephew for helping us. "Thanks Pat." I wink at him. "Peeta and I would like to thank everyone for joining us tonight. We're fortunate to have so many people in our lives, and we're very grateful for you all making the effort and travelling far and wide to be here with us today. We both made some wonderful friends three years ago and its proof with you all being here today. Despite half of you being Careers." I laugh, taking a dig at Peeta.

“What Katniss means is that she’s just jealous she wasn’t a career.”

"Oh no, Tribute for life. Am I right?" I jab, getting a rise from my trip mates. "It's just a shame you weren't a tribute because we could have been a tribute love story.”

“Or a Career love story.” He shrugs. “Jokes and travel companies aside, we’re proof that both companies can get along and find love after putting our differences aside.” He smiles at me. “As most of you know, we met in Uni taking a stats class. Katniss who is hopeless with numbers begged me to be her tutor, and that began our story. Nothing too romantic just the typical boy meets girl at uni love story.” He laughs. "She got me a job at the Japanese restaurant where we usually ended our shifts with a round of karaoke. She had never sung in front of me, in those few months of studying together. The first time she did sing, I knew I was a goner. I swear the birds fell silent and that’s a moment I’ll never forget.”

I blush slightly and quickly find where I’m up to on the speech. He has gone off the speech. "Where am I up too?"

“Here.” He points.

“Yes. Right. We parted ways when uni finished. Our careers and lives were going in different directions. But three years ago, in a Florence restaurant, this guy was on my radar as the arsehole that stole my karaoke song, and I was going to hunt him during the night and maybe throw a beer over him. That was until he came out of the crowd and I realised who exactly it was. It wasn’t some arsehole; it was Peeta, Peeta who rated every song choice, who cheered for me every time I sang. The boy who introduced me to that very song so knew I couldn't be mad at him for too long. And I wasn't. It was like no time or distance had passed, and we were those two 21-year-olds working late at the Japanese restaurant who would laugh, sing and dance with each other." I say smiling.

“So in honour of our fabulous relationship and because we knew this wouldn’t be a party without some karaoke. Katniss and I will be singing the first song we sang together. This song came about hitting shuffle on the machine, and this is the song it came up with." He laughs. "So please enjoy a compilation of our relationship in film reel while we embarrassingly sing our duet song.”

His brother makes fast work of setting it all up with him ready to hit play on the instrumental version of our duet song and playing the video slideshow he made for us.

“You ready?” He asks me, lowering the microphone away from his mouth and squeezing my hand.

I nod with a wide smile. “Let’s do this.”

“Would you dance if I asked you to dance? Or would you run and never look back? Would you cry if you saw me crying? And would you save my soul tonight?”

We sing to our guests who cheer for us. There's a little bit of a medley within the song of our karaoke hits from Dancing Queen, to Disney classics, 90's rock, some recent pop songs, Elvis, 80's pop and then more of Hero before it fades into Under Pressure for a few beats before it turns more upbeat into the 90's tune of Ice Ice Baby.

“Yo, Katniss, let’s kick it.” Peeta sings pointing at me. He smiles widely because he knows we have pulled off the announcement.

“Our first baby. We’re announcing our first baby Our first baby We’re announcing our first baby’ We sing, Peeta caressing my stomach as our recent ultrasound picture appears at the end of the slideshow with the caption

‘Our karaoke duet is turning into a trio in early October'

We watch the reaction of our friends and family and Peeta whispers in my ear, with his arm around quickly before our family and friends surround us.

"Bet you're glad I'm the arsehole who stole your karaoke song?"

"Every day." I smile up at him and kiss the corner of his mouth just as I'm pulled into an embrace by my family.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #everlarkbirthdaydrabbles #everlarkbirthdaygifts #fan fic #by herainab

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anneshirleycuffbert · 5 years ago

Text

Anne’s letter to Gilbert - #3

[for an index to the first two shirbert letters and awae shorts, click here!]

Dearest Gilbert,

Thank you for the chamomile tea. It could not have come at a more perfect time.

Half the girls have caught colds and I am afraid I will be next to fall victim to their sickness, seeing as Diana has contracted it. Nevertheless, I swore to love her as long as the sun and moon shall endure. When I was an orphan staying at the Hammond’s–who had three sets of twins! three!– I nursed them all back to good health when they had croup. A cold is nothing compared to what the Hammond children went through that bitter February, so I’m positively certain we shall all be well in no time.

I believe taking care of someone because of and despite their illness is one of the most beautiful and valiant things a person can do in their lifetime. I suppose that is what began to soften my heart to you that day I came by to drop off your books whilst your father was ill. From the short time I talked to him, I felt that he was kindred. May I ask, do you miss your father terribly?

Marilla and Matthew do their best to hide their aging and all that entails from me, but I know better. They are not getting any younger and I dread the day that will inevitably come when I will not see Matthew feeding the goats or Marilla making her famous plum puffs. When my imagination conjures up the image of an empty Green Gables, I must stop myself then and there lest I plunge into the deepest depths of despair and never escape the nightmare. I’ve never told this to anyone, not even Diana. How my greatest fear is not being able to pursue my passions, which are too numerous to count if I tried, but of losing my dear Matthew and lovely Marilla. I was afraid that no one would understand, but I think you do.

I haven’t made my mind up yet which is worse, for a person to never know love or for them to have known it and lost it. But when I am at risk of letting these pesky thoughts run my heart to the ground, I think on the happy things. Matthew polishing his most unusual radish and Marilla and I buying material for my dress. I think of the day you and I marched to the town hall and protested for the right for freedom of speech alongside our classmates. I think of you, Gilbert Blythe, and how you love me despite my many faults and flaws. I’m still pinching myself.

Bash was most elated to see me when I visited, and Delly has much grown since the last I saw her that you’ll have trouble deciding whether to laugh or cry the day you return. Although she is still a baby, I see dear Mary more and more in her. She possesses an unusual resolute wisdom and I patiently await the day when I can converse with her and unlock all that lies in her imagination and mind. And Elijah– oh, he adores his baby sister. He takes her for morning strolls around the farm so that Bash can sleep in after long days of working. Miss Hazel, Elijah, Delly and I walked all the way to where the stream meets the Lake of Shining Waters and found Miss Stacey fishing with some of her students and Rachel Lynde, of all people! Miss Stacey sends her warmest regards and a reminder to keep the promise you made to her.

Jerry certainly made a point to tease me about you. I asked him about the post script he wrote to you, but he infuriatingly would not reveal its contents, saying that I must learn to accept that I cannot always get what I want and I should thank him for teaching me this lesson. The nerve! I didn’t thank him, of course, but I will keep his words in mind and practice them by refraining from asking you to divulge the information I desire. To answer your question, Jerry had made it a habit to spell my name without an E and one day I was made to believe he did it for the purpose of annoying me, rather than simply being ignorant to the proper spelling–which I may have been able to tolerate–so I might have snapped at him. Okay, I did snap at him but he only found it hilarious. Now he overcompensates with a capital E.

As for your request to visit me at Queen’s and escort me to Avonlea, you have my enthusiastic approval. Please be advised that Mrs Blackmore has strict visiting hours for suitors, who may only visit between the hours of 2:00-4:00pm on Saturdays, in the parlor. (But I wouldn’t be too worried because Mrs Blackmore has already taken a liking to you, and I suspect it’s because chamomile tea is her favorite.) The girls and I have become much acquainted with the parlor, for many students at Queen’s have developed a taste for the Avonlea scholars. Mrs Blackmore, it turns out, has quite a number of redeeming qualities under her intimidating exterior. She has a no-visiting policy for suitors during exam season and when there is sickness in the house. One of the benefits of having half of my housemates ill near exam season, is that we finally have a respite from the boys who’ve made it a habit to visit.

I do feel sorry for Moody and Ruby, who I never knew until recent how devoted they are to each other. Ruby, one of the fortunate spared from sickness, was caught trying to sneak out of the house after hours. We all presume it was to meet Moody under a nearby willow tree, but Mrs Blackmore has no solid evidence and therefore no collateral to prohibit him from visiting again once we’ve all recovered from our colds. I think Mrs Blackmore does not really want to expel Moody Spurgeon from the house, because when he visits he usually plays us a few songs on his banjo and Mistress Mang–our term of endearment for her–dearly loves music.

How are you and Benjamin Frederick Wright getting along? I am intrigued to meet him. Dr Emily Oak, as well, for as you said, she is a kindred spirit. I figure she must be if she’s worked her way, beating all, to become a doctor working at an acclaimed university.

I joined the Poetry Reading Club and the Writing Club and found many kindred people there. Yesterday I was asked by one of my professors to consider joining Theatre and another to think on applying to be one of the editors for the Queen’s Verdict, the college’s newsletter. I��m still thinking on it, seeing as I’m already in two extra-curriculars. And, as you very well know, the last time I was involved with a school newspaper, there were many negative consequences. I don’t think I could bear to disgrace myself in Charlottetown.

I hope you aren’t holing yourself in your books and studies for too long, Gil. It’s important to take time to be at leisure and refresh your soul. Promise me that you’ll take a walk, talk to your classmates, and try something new. Maybe explore the city with your dear roommate. I heard they have a camera at U of T, so if you ever get the chance, have a photograph of yourself taken! In regards to your all-inclusive apology, it is wholeheartedly accepted. The slate has been wiped clean.

As I write this letter, I am sitting under one of my favourite trees in all of Charlottetown. I will introduce you to her when you visit me. Oh, how I wish tomorrow would come sooner than later because then I would be one day closer to seeing you again. But I must admit, I do appreciate our correspondence via letter, as it helps me filter my words and choose them carefully. I’m afraid of how I might act and what I might say when we are reunited, given my horrible habit of callously spewing out the words I think in the moment I conceive them. I miss you terribly and I do not trust myself to act proper when I see you in person. But Mrs Blackmore is determined to make a lady out of me yet, so only time may tell.

Take care of yourself, Gilbert. I love you. Come home someday.

Anne

P.S. word of the day: Retrouvailles - the joy of reuniting with someone after a long separation. (A bosom friend who is studying French is just as handy as any foreign vocabulary dictionary)

P.P.S. Oh, darling Gil, do you not know? In order for a duel to be classified as such, there needs to be a prize. I propose the loser gives the winner a kiss. And as Rachel Lynde says, pride comes before the fall—so pucker up, Slateface. I hereby engage in this long-distance duel.

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lolol I know I said I wouldn’t be posting during exams, but writing this was like a mini-break from studying so I hope you enjoy! I’d love to know what your favorite part of the letter is!

This is Letter #3! for an index to the first two shirbert letters and awae shorts, click here!

#i miss them sm already im crying #anne with an e #awae #shirbert #shirbert letters #awae letters #gilbert blythe #anne shirley cuthbert #anneshirleycuffbert #anne x gilbert #awae season 4 #awae spoilers #awae fic #renewannewithane #renew anne with an e #renew awae #awae:dlu

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