#warms my heart to see her singing her teenage song as an old lady

[idy-ll-ique]

Voices.

Pairing: Chris Evans x F!Reader

Genre: nothing but floofy-floof

Warnings: none

Requested: nope

Summary: in which you can hear the voice of your soulmate in your head and Y/N's soulmate is someone really special— her celebrity crush.

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! do y'all know how long ago I wrote this fic, like— at least 2 years ago. damn. so in advance, im sorry if there are any grammatical mistakes or bad punctuation in the fic that I forgot to correct (apology for bad english 😌)

oh and

bold/italics - chris

only italics - y/n

---

Hey, you still there?

Y/N snapped out of a trance and focused on the voice. Yeah, yeah I'm still there, she thought to herself. She was hearing the voice of her soulmate, or rather, was speaking to him, telepathically. The thing is, you could hear the voice of your soulmate in your head. You could talk, hold conversations, but the only thing was that you couldn't ask for their name.

You had to guess. Most of the people made plans, like let's meet here or there and concentrate hard enough, I'll see your name written on a paper. It was a thing, I mean, if you concentrated hard enough, you could see what your soulmate was doing. It was like a cheat code of sorts. Most of them found their soulmate in that way.

You see, Y/N loved surprises, so she wasn't going to find her soulmate just yet. Y/N wanted to figure it out for herself. Your soulmate couldn't hear every single one of your thoughts, though (which was how she had zoned out mid-conversation). Listen, we should meet up sometime.

Aw, already? she thought with a pout on her lips. Yes, I'm very excited to meet you, I've been waiting for too long, the voice replied, chuckling. It was a manly voice, really deep and raspy. She loved it. When Y/N was small, about 4-5 years old, all she could hear were swear words and dirty thoughts; characteristics of a teenage boy.

From that, she inferred, that soulmate was much older than her, about 8-9 years older than her. She didn't mind, She was kind of into older guys anyway… But I like this game we have! Why do you want to ruin it? she asked, shaking her head. Alright, sweetheart, just for you, I'm holding back. But I don't have much patience, the voice laughed. Y/N smiled.

Without even meeting her, Chris loved the voice in his head. She sounded so sweet and welcoming, maybe she was younger than him. He couldn't wait to meet her. Chris had tried to plan their meeting for so long now, but she just wouldn't give in. She was also a feisty one. He smiled to himself as he walked down the street, engaged in thoughts about his soulmate.

In his haste, he accidentally bumped into someone. "I'm so sorry!" he blurted out, instead hearing a soft ouch, shit in his head. His brows furrowed. The lady he had bumped into just kept on walking. Are you alright? he asked his soulmate in his mind. Yeah, just bumped into someone while walking.

I bumped into someone just now too! he told her excitedly, still staring at the lady who had now stopped in her tracks. She turned around, scanning the crowd. Then she looked at him, but maybe she didn't realize that she had bumped into him. Holy shit, I see— Then it all went blank. See what? Chris questioned desperately.

He still wasn't sure whether the woman he had just bumped into was his soulmate or not.

Why can't I say the name of the guy who played the role of Captain America?

Chris froze and stared at the lady, jaw dropped. She was lost in her thoughts, confused. He slowly walked to her and stood in front of her; she stared back at him, her heart racing. This was her celebrity crush, who was currently looking at her as if she hung the moon. But why? Why was he looking at her like that?

"You can't say his name because that's me, you technically can't say his name because you aren't allowed to," Chris whispered to her, smiling softly. Her eyes widened.

"You! You're the voice I hear in my mind! Chris freaking Evans is my soulmate?! How did I not realize?!" The woman exclaimed, shocked. Soon though, she got a wide smile on her face. His eyes widened too, hers was the voice he heard as well! "What's your name?" he asked her as they hugged. "I'm Y/N Y/L/N," she replied, smiling.

"Wanna join me for a coffee?" he offered, holding his hand out. She put her palm on top of his and nodded. Both of them entered a nearby coffee shop. "So, what do you do?" he asked her after ordering two coffees. "Nothing. I'm unemployed right now, just got out of my last job. I gave an interview yesterday at Ralph Lauren, just waiting for a call back," she shrugged.

"Oh, into fashion?" he asked her, smiling. "Yeah, got my degree and all. Just needed a job, Ralph Lauren offers a good amount of money," she chuckled. Chris smiled again. "Reminds me of Rachel Green." She laughed more, which warmed his heart. Her laugh was adorable. Suddenly, her phone rang and she looked at him, wide-eyed.

He nodded dismissively and she picked up the call. She spoke for a while and when she ended the call, she had the biggest smile on her face.

"I got the job at Ralph Lauren, I'm starting tomorrow!" Y/N squealed. They couldn't have picked a better timing. "Congratulations, Y/N!" he told her, grinning. After spending some more time at the cafe, they parted ways. She went home while he went back to the sets where they were filming Avengers: Age of Ultron.

"Hi Chris, you were out for a long time, what's up?" Chris Hemsworth asked, smiling at Chris Evans as they stumbled upon each other. "Nothing, just met my soulmate, had a cup of coffee with her." The older Chris feigned nonchalance. "You what?! That's awesome, man! So, how is she, what does she do?" Hemsworth asked him excitedly as both of them walked inside.

Robert and Scarlett were there, talking. "She's so beautiful, I stopped functioning when I saw her. She works at Ralph Lauren, she's a fashion designer," Chris told him with a smile. Robert and Scarlett looked up. "Who?" Scarlett questioned. "Y/N," he said simply, sitting beside Robert. "Who's that?" Robert inquired. "My soulmate." Chris smiled, as if in a trance.

"Boy, you look like you're in love," Scarlett laughed. "Because I am, she's that beautiful," he told her adamantly. "Whoa, did you ask her out?" Robert snorted. "I'm back from our first date." We had our first date right now, didn't we? he asked her in his mind.

Of course we did, I loved it. Hope to meet you again soon, her voice replied and he could practically feel her smile.

Sure, I'm in town for a few more months, I'll mind-text you as to when I'm free, he told her, sporting a smile on his face. She outright laughed in the comfort of her own home. Mind-text? Sounds fun, she agreed and focused on the Netflix series she was watching, turning off the "magical telepathic link" between them.

Chris, too, focused on the others only to see them smiling at him. "Talking to her?" He nodded at Scarlett. A few minutes later, all of them went to another room to begin with the shooting of a new scene.

---

Y/N danced as she prepared dinner, singing along to You Don't Know Me by Jax Jones. It had been a month since she last saw Chris. He had promised her a date, but he didn't get time. She couldn't blame him, he was a busy man. Y/N was shouting the lyrics of the song in her head, unaware of the fact that Chris was snooping in on her mind.

Hey, calm down, she heard Chris chuckling in her mind and shrieked in real life. What are you— are you snooping on my mind? Chris! she thought, scandalized. He laughed more. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I wanted to ask you out. Are you free right now? We could meet in the same coffee shop, he asked. She grinned and nodded to herself. Of course, I'll be there in 15.

She quickly got dressed, wearing a pair of track pants and a t-shirt (like she was wearing on their first date). She didn't bother with her hair or makeup, it looked good anyway, she just bolted out of the house. Y/N entered the coffee shop to see Chris already sitting there, wearing a suit. She cursed herself mentally, making Chris look up.

He stifled a laugh. She went and sat in front of him.

"I'm so sorry I look like a single mother of two kids who hasn't slept in a year," she moaned, "I didn't know you were gonna show up in a suit." She facepalmed for good measure. "It's quite alright, you look beautiful. I wouldn't have you any other way, I should say. I'm coming back from a party right now, therefore the suit."

She blushed softly at his compliment. He ordered two coffees for them and they started talking. "So, how's your job at Ralph Lauren?" Chris asked, smiling at her. "It's amazing, I got promoted. Now I'm the head of the department, with my own office and all," she told him, smiling back. "That's great! Oh, congratulations, honey," he grinned.

"Thanks," she muttered, blushing slightly when he called her a nickname. "You look cute while blushing, has anyone ever told you that?" Chris winked as their coffees arrived. "No one, ever. I don't interact with people much, it's a tedious job," she half-joked, smiling.

"Really! So who are the people you talk to?" he joined in. "Well, there's my assistant, my mother, my bro and you. That's all. I've got some friends, but I rarely talk to them, only on the phone while texting, that is," she shrugged. "Nice, nice," he nodded as they finished their coffees. "Allow me to drop you home," Chris offered, taking out a key which she found out was for his bike as they left the café.

"No it's alright, I'll go," she refused immediately. "Nonsense, you're practically my girlfriend! I'm going with ya," he shook his head. They looked like an odd couple; one wearing a suit while the other looked like she had just woken up. Surprisingly enough, the one who looked like she just woken up had the best fashion sense among them. "Hop on," Chris grinned.

She sat down behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist. Both of them chatted for the 2 minutes that took them to get to Y/N's home. Once they reached her building, she got down from Chris's bike and turned to him.

"Thanks, Chris, this has been an amazing second date. Can't wait for the third," she told him with a smile. "Me too," he smiled back. A few seconds later, she turned to leave but Chris suddenly grabbed her hand, turning her around. "Wha—" She didn't get to finish her sentence as Chris pressed his lips to hers. She kissed back, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"I just had to, sweetheart," he panted as they pulled away from each other, breathless. "Wow," she breathed out as Chris rested his forehead against hers. "So, um, see you on the third date, yeah?" Y/N giggled as they stepped away from one another, smiling. "I'll make it as quick as possible. Can't stay away from you, darling," he winked.

"How flattering," she winked back and turned to leave, purposely adding a sway to her hips knowing that he was watching. And fuck, was he watching. "Oh, the things you do to me, my dear Y/N."

"I heard that!"

"Good!"

---

A/N: Thanks for reading, leave a like if you enjoyed!

[mah-gah-lee]

What a weird family reunion Reggie x  Reader (xLuke)

gif originally posted by @jatpsource​

Word Count: 3515 words

 Summary: You’re Reggie’s little sister. You were 3 when he died. You’re now a ghost for a decade. One night, you recognize your brother and jumped into him to an unexpected family reunion. How is it going to happen? Will Reggie believe you? In a mysterious way, that’s Luke who help you to convinced Reggie.

 Warnings: cuss (language), mention of death, mention of divorce, mention of drugs

 A/N: This is my first fic about jatp characters. Hope you’ll enjoy! keep in mind that french is my first language, so i’m so sorry if there’s some mistakes in my fic

 disclaimer: It takes place during episodes 6 and 7. I do not take into account the possibility of a Juke. The chemistry while they sing is there but no romantic feelings.

 Tagged: @asdfghjkl-fanfics​ @standingtalllove​ 

 _______

Losing a child is the worst thing a parent could live, losing two is unimaginable. It’s seems being 17 years old was a new malediction in Peters family.

 You were 3 when your older brother, Reginald, died in a weird hot dog accident. At that point, your parents were literally a fight away from a divorce but never did it because of you. You were too young to be in a divided family, according to them. But Reggie's death separated them for good. Yet they really tried to support each other, to overcome that and give you all the attention you needed. But your mother overprotected you and made you live in the shadow of your late brother. Your dad couldn't stand it. And when they finally divorce, moving out from reggie’s childhood house, you went to live with your dad.

 Even though you were too young to form a strong bond with your brother, in a way you missed him. Your mother’s house was full of pictures of him, some of his clothes were still in a room, dedicated to him. When you visited your mother, you didn’t understand why you always found yourself in this room. You were drawn like a magnet to the comforting room. Reggie’s presence in this new house brought you such a sense of security that your mother had repeatedly found you asleep on a pile of your brother’s T-shirts.

 And then you died in 2009. Kanye West had interrupted Taylor Swift's speech at the VMAs, Miley Cyrus hadn't gone crazy yet and One Direction didn't exist yet. What an era! You didn't know why the great light didn't come looking for you but you were there, as a ghost in 2009. And the time has passed ... You've had your best concerts, the best parties. A forever teenager who couldn't eat, drink or sleep.

 And then 2020 came.

 …

 You were tired of always doing the same thing for over a decade, but you couldn't help but go to every open scene that came up in your beautiful city. It was as if an inexplicable force was pushing you to go there.

 This evening was no exception to the rule and you were in a very hip little bar in the city center. You wore one of those sleeveless, gray crop tops with high waisted pants, your leather jacket draped over your shoulders. Your eyes were directly drawn to a group of girls in colorful costumes. You couldn't help but roll your eyes. It's been 10 years since you died and it seemed to you that these girls looked like the same plagues that ruined the lives of so many teenagers in your time. You put on an expression of disgust when they all took the stage, but when the music started you couldn't help but admit it was pretty catchy. However, you didn't expect a ghost to appear in the middle of the stage, improvising a choreography. Was that part of the show?

 But looking at the audience's non-reaction, you knew it wasn't. The ghost disappeared for the first time, and your gaze sought directly the distinctive light source of another apparition in the room. Your gaze lingered on a small group of three boys - the blond boy included - and two girls. You have wrinkled your eyes to better distinguish the teenagers, and your face expressed confusion.

 “Reggie? “

 You wanted to go see him so badly. You were pretty sure it was your brother but it all came too fast. The moment you decided to walk towards them, the organizer announced a new band.

 “Okay, looks like we're close the night out with one more group…Julie and the fat ones.”

 What was that for a name? Your attention had been diverted and when you looked back at the group, the boys had disappeared as one of the young girls took the stage. Your heart was beating so fast. You couldn't go wrong; you had seen so many pictures at your mother's house that it was impossible that this boy was not your brother. But you missed your chance…

 Julie started to sing and your eyes were captivated, as much as your ears were. This kid was so talented! When she sang a rather high note, the tension in the room charged into electricity. The next second, the young singer was joined by the group of boys you had seen in her company. Appearing distinctly as the ghosts did. On drums there was the blond boy you had seen dancing a few moments earlier, on the electric guitar, a boy with tousled brown hair who seemed slightly familiar to you ... and on bass, with a flannel shirt, there was your brother ... Reggie was there, identical to the photos you had admired so much.

 The bar was on fire as Julie and The Phantoms performed. What a sick name for a group made up of two-thirds of ghosts! The song was so catchy that your heart beat to the sound of the music. But your eyes did not leave your brother, you were unable to move, frozen in place. What should you do ? Will you introduce yourself after the performance? And, what would you say? "Hey hi Reggie, I'm your sister, I died ten years ago and you twenty-five years ago. Unbelievable, right?! Nice to see you again" And once again, before you knew it, the song was over and the boys were gone again, leaving Julie alone on stage in the bewilderment of the many people in the facility.

 “for God's sake, where are they?”

 You didn't want to miss it anymore. Even though the whole situation was strange, you wanted to see your brother again.

 Your eyes flew over the room before seeing the scene play out before your eyes. Julie seemed petrified in front of a man. The boys watched in amazement and as Julie left with what appeared to be her father, you rushed over to the group of three musicians before they disappeared again.

 “omg please don't poof out again.” You said almost out of breath

 The boys looked at you like you were crazy before the guitarist jumped off the bar counter, bursting with energy.

 "Wait, you can see us?"

 “as much as when mister "all eyes on me" made his performance”, you were pointing your head at the blond boy.

 The group looked at each other in puzzlement and Reggie finally spoke, his blue eyes full of mischief.

 “So…hi there cutie, how can we help you?”

 Your face expressed disgust and you stuck your tongue out mimicking vomiting.

Luke gave Alex an amused smile, seeing Reggie flirting and your spontaneous reaction. The bassist couldn't help but charm the pretty ladies.

 “Wow Reggie, that's gross ... you're my brother.”

  Reggie burst out laughing at your response, not noticing that you called him by his first name when he hadn't even introduced himself to you yet.

 “Yeah right, for sure. You just could tell me you weren’t interested. But I’m charming...”

 It was the first time he had been given such an excuse but you looked so serious that he stopped dead in his tracks as Luke and Alex watched you. They always knew Reggie had a sister. But the scene unfolding before their eyes seemed impossible. (Y / N) was so young when they died and now must have been around 28, something like that. But the girl in front of them was a teenager, their age. How was this possible?

 You didn't want to drop the information like that. It was worse than anything you could have imagined. But it had escaped you. Now he didn't take you seriously. Your eyes were wet with tears. It was scary to find you in front of your brother for the first time as a ghost teenager. Luke looked panicked when he noticed your eyes, squeezing Reggie's shoulder as you seemed to beg.

 “Can I ... can I meet you in a quieter time please, Reginald?”

 Your brother's eyes widened as Luke's hug on his shoulder tightened a bit. The eagerness and desperation in your voice had made both boys react, Alex was just looking at all of you like all of this wasn't real. The use of Reggie's name made him tense, surprised. Few called him Reginald. In fact, only his family, and the boys when they wanted to annoy him, called him that way. And although his nickname is obvious enough to deduce his

full first name, he deeply felt that you weren't just anyone.

  He seemed a little panicked and looked around for his friends to support him. As if the solution would fall by itself just by the presence of Luke and Alex.

 “Okay, but I want Luke and Alex’s there! What about tomorrow? I’ll give you the address!”

 Wow, that was quick.

 “hm, yeah, yeah sure, as you want”

 You nodded and Reggie silently slipped a note to the drummer. Alex took a pen, write something on a paper towel and gave it to you. You weren’t surprise, you also can make some tricks. And you just had the time to thanks them before they poofted again.

 …

 The next day, you landed in front of Julie's garage. Lucky she's at school because you shouldn't be explaining your presence, so she managed to see you the way she saw boys.

 Before entering, you peeked out the window and frowned. There seemed to be only Luke so far. He was leaning over the piano, his head in a notebook. Your body went through part of the garage door and you cleared your throat.

 “hmm, hi ... i came to see Reggie ..”

 Luke instantly raised his head and you caught his attention.

 “oh uh, hi! He should be here soon, come in.….”

 Silence felt as Luke motioned for you to sit on the couch. It was a rather pleasant studio; the plants gave a warm atmosphere to the room and the music set sent you good vibes.

 "Does your girlfriend mind that I'm here? I mean, that seems to be your HQ"

 "girlfriend?"

 "The girl you sing with" I simply said.

 "Julie? Um, yeah, she's not my girlfriend. She-sh-she’s great and we have this powerful connection but…not, not in a romantic way. Music tied us. Music and friendship "

 Luke chuckled lightly as he scratched his head. You were surprised they weren't dating. Yesterday the tension was intense. He seemed authentic when he had continued his momentum. You let out a smile amused by so much overflow.

 “It's okay, I don't need to know your full relationship statute or your social security number.”

 The guitarist gave you a frank smile, his eyes twinkling with amusement. For a ghost, his gaze was really alive.

 “ I’m Luke, by the way”

 "Y / N… Re .."

 "Reggie's little sister… I-I remember you a little."

 "You look familiar to me. Maybe I saw you in a few pictures with Reggie."

 Silence fell and you started to feel anxious. Maybe it was a bad idea? You had grown up since Reggie died ... were you still his little sister after all? Luke seemed to notice your dismay and put a comforting hand on your knee.

 “hey, is something bothering you?”

 “What if he doesn't believe me ... if he definitely thinks I'm not his sister.”

 “Let's be honest, it's a little hard to believe. The last time I saw you, you were three years old.”

 It was as if the memories flooded into your mind and let you carried away in your words.

 “Yeah, you gave me this teddy bear with a guitar and told Reggie you wanted to be my favorite.”

 Luke chuckled slightly before staring at you, speechless. He seemed dazed. This anecdote dates back to twenty-five years anyway. He himself had a hard time remembering it until you said it a few seconds earlier.

 “what was the smell of the stuffed animal?” he asked, confused about that funny fact

 “sorry, what?”

 “the plush, what did it smell like?”

 “hot waffle, why?”

 “okay ... maybe you are his sister ... tell me more about what you remember”

 You looked at him with a puzzled expression. Everything had been so natural before he stopped in all the movements. And now, it was hard to think about for the memories you had of Reggie on demand. The teddy bear given by Luke story had slipped out of your mind without you realizing it. As your brain seemed to boil, the fog of your thoughts cleared.

 “can I use your guitar?”

 “hell no ... why?” Luke exclaimed with far too much anticipation

 “I have this lullaby stuck inside of my head ... I think Reggie sang it to me when I was a child”

 Your pleading and desperate gaze fell on Luke who categorically refused to let you take his guitar. He ends up grabbing his six acoustic strings, terminated. There was something about you that made him weak.

 “Maybe you can teach me but ... my guitar is my guitar, nobody touches it.”

 You nodded and the lead singer moved closer to you. You were stunned by its smell, like a distant memory. Luke had definitely been a part of your life before he died, you were sure of that. You leaned over her shoulder, humming the lullaby that was left in your head. It didn't take long for him to find the right chords. Luke continued several times before you stopped singing, looking at him intently.

 “that's exactly it ... this lullaby”

 You both looked at each other, an indecipherable expression in your eyes. You both jumped at the sound of the garage door. Reggie appeared with Alex.

 "Ready to compose hellish songs! oh did I interrupt something?”

 "No, no I was there to see you. I guess you have a lot of questions."

 "hell yeah, can we start from the beginning?"

  You smiled to approve his request. The boys settled down on the sofa, while you sat down on one of the single armchairs. And the flow of questions began

  “When are you born?”

 “(your birthday date) 1992” you simply answered.

 “What’s your name?”

 (y/n) (y/m/n) Peters

 It’s seemed to convinced a little Reggie but doubt was all over his face.  It was information you could easily get on the internet nowadays.

 “What’s my favorite food?”

 “Pizza, mom said your favorite was the extra cheese with pepperoni”

 “And what was my favorite toy?”

 “I freaking don’t know, how can I suppose to known that?”

 “ah ah!” he pointed the finger at you, as if that answer was proof that you were lying. It broke your heart but you didn't show it.

Instead, you rolled your eyes and Reggie kept going to ask you some question. Of course, you would have liked to have answered his questions correctly. Your mother told you some anecdotes about him but not to the point of knowing all the details.

 “What’s the most terrible thing I said to my mom?”

 “Omg I don’t fucking know! I was 3 when you’re died, asshole!”

 Luke smiled when you exploded. Reggie was Reggie, as weird as possible. Now you were angry and desperate. Your brother didn’t believe you and he kept dragging you into this miserable feeling that you were never going to get your brother back. You had spent your short life living with a faint memory of him. Your blankie was one of his t-shirts, his voice reasoned in your head when you couldn’t sleep.

But then, in front of him, you were a stranger to him. Your heart was bruised from not being able to hug him and to finally meet this brother who had left far too soon.

 “Okay, okay… So, how can you proof me you’re really my sister?! “

 In the room’s corner, Luke looked at you, you looked desperate, about to cry again. He grabbed his guitar and cleared his throat. Reggie turned to him as the guitarist still had his eyes on you, a heartwarming smile hanging across his face. You had managed to convince him in a few minutes. He felt connected to you and the things you told him were disturbing. You could only be Reggie's sister; it was impossible otherwise.

 "Hey…What about the song you told me earlier." he said with a soft and comfort voice

 Your eyes caught his gaze, grateful for the initiative. You nodded and Luke started playing the few notes you had taught him a few minutes earlier. It was so different from all the songs the brunette could play before. It was a lullaby, such easy children's music with just a few notes.   Of course, the band wasn’t supposed to play when Julie wasn’t in the room but, Luke had thought it was the best thing to do to encourage you to keep going. He didn’t know why, but he wanted Reggie to believe you. Luke believed you, hard as nails. There only had to look at your eyes to understand this reality, and Luke had noticed that. You had the same blue eyes as your brother. How could Reggie still doubt that? You started to sing

 You're so sleepy

Very much sleepy

You want to go to the fairyland

You close your eyes

And jump into your dream.

When you'll wake up

I’ll still be on your team.

 The instant Reggie heard the first notes, he knew. But hearing you sing the lullaby he had invented for you when you didn't want to sleep as a child, was a magical moment. You were his baby sister. He gave you that sad little puppy face, so overwhelmed. Reggie opened his arms and you jumped into a hug, so glad he finally accepted the fact that you were his sister.

You felt oddly safe again, like taking a nap in Reggie's pile of old t-shirts. You were so happy to find your brother and to be able to live your non-life by his side. Nothing would be as boring as it used to be. Reggie pushed you away with a concerned look

 "but wait ... how did you die?"

 "Yeah ... I don't really know ... I was at a really, really good rock concert and I bought this drink ... and I think I got drugged up there and ... I guess I'm dead? tadaa " you tried to tell him in a light tone.

He had just learned that he had a little sister. He didn't have to know that she was sneaking out at rock concerts and drinking alcohol before she was old enough. Right? Alex looked at Luke and Reggie with his half amused half confused smile. As for Luke, he fidgeted from foot to foot at the discovery. Y / N was as much rock and roll as they all were. Rebellion had to be his middle name

You loosened Reggie's embrace and lowered your head, pursing your lips so as not to show your embarrassment. He asked if you wanted snacks and you nodded. There was a slight silence. You didn't notice the urgent look Luke gave Alex but the next moment the blond jumped up to accompany the bassist, leaving you alone in the garage with the lead singer.

 The silences were a little longer until Luke cautiously approached you. You could feel the awkwardness from miles away.

 “ Sooo, you made this.”

 “ yeah ...” you answered in a shy voice

 It was the moment you had to thank him but your words seemed frozen. You mustered all the courage to plant your gaze in Luke's eyes.

 “Thank you ... for helping me earlier.”

 “oh it was nothing”.

 “I ... yes, yes it was. You can't imagine how important seeing Reggie again is to me. Thanks for ... for helping me open his eyes.”

 A slight smile caught his lips and he reached for your cheek before stopping his gesture. Instead of stroking your skin, he simply put a section of your hair back behind your ear.

 “I would do anything for my best friends.”

 And Reggie was definitely one of Luke’s best friend. You hardly swallowed, your stomach contorting under the effect that the guitarist made you. Time had seemed to fly at an incredible speed as the moment was interrupted by Reggie and Alex coming back to you.

 “OMG LUKE DON’T FLIRT WITH MY SISTER, SHE’S 3!”

 You cleared your throat and stepped aside to pull yourself away from Luke as far as possible. Your gaze fell on your brother and you raised an eyebrow at the last remark. 3 years old, really? You were 3 years old twenty-five years ago ... now you were eternally a teenager

 “I’m seventeen.”

 “Listen, i'm your big brother, you’re three, end of discussion.”

 Your face wanted to laugh and you pursed your lips to keep from succumbing. But your eyes… Your eyes met Luke's in a complicity that slowly settled. Could you fall in love with your big brother's best friend? Definitely yes...

[finelinevogue]

I know you’re on break but just and idea could be writing more about busker!Harry! I absolutely adore him plus the idea of him being signed is amazing. Even though he gets signed I feel like he would still play on the street to thank them for helping him etc.

yes we love busker!harry here! he’s such a soft little bean who loves no one more than you <3 ok here we go, hope it’s alright;

Smiles.

That’s all you take from each day after Harry’s performed his set on the streets of familiar Manchester. As much as you love the music Harry plays and the money that comes as a benefit of how well he does it, nothing quite makes your heart warm than the smiles of the people.

Whether there’s a passing group of teenage school girls who giggle to each other. Whether it’s a couple of men walking from one business meeting to another. Whether it’s just one man and his suitcase making a hurried dash for his train. Whether it’s an old woman on her way home from getting her weekly butchers meat. Or whether it was a baby in a pram not having a single clue what was going on. No matter who it was, they could never pass Harry with a smile. He smiled back, always. Harry would pause his singing to thank anyone who threw coppers in his beaten guitar case. He was genuine and that’s what people loved about him.

Even after he’d been signed to a huge record label, he stayed the exact same down-to-earth humble man you’d always known him to be. Fame and success didn’t change him. You both still lived in the same house. You both still shopped in Aldi. You both budgeted your weeks out, regardless of the thousands that were now racking up in various bank accounts. And Harry still stood in the street, almost every day, singing his heart out to his people. To the old lady, to the baby, to the passing workmen and teenagers. He was the same chipper guy he had been all those years ago and no fame was going to change that.

Just like now was another example of all this.

He’s just finished his 12th song of the day, “I’m Yours’ by Jason Mraz and a woman was trying to get him to take the £20 note she was offering.

“Ma’am please I can’t accept this, it’s too much.”

“Don’t be daft! You played so well and it’s made my day and so i’d like to gift you thanks.” She argued back and really Harry was in a losing battle. If he accepted it he would feel terrible that he’s allowed a woman to give him £20, but if he didn’t accept it he would look ungrateful and unaccepting.

“I appreciate your kind gesture, but it’s really too much.” He smiled kindly, hoping his good smirk would charm her off.

You were stood close by, watching the interaction. You were internally laughing to yourself, because although most people would never pass up the opportunity for money, let alone twenty quid, your Harry wasn’t most people. He was a respectful man, who loved playing music above anything else. Okay, well, he loved you only slightly more than that - but you were okay with that. You envied that he had a passion as harsh as music. It was enticing to see him get lost within 7 lettered notes.

“Chuffin’ take it Harry!” The woman dangled it in front of Harry and he laughed at her eagerness. You laughed too, until you weren’t.

It happened so quickly that you didn’t realise anything had happened until you’d felt a pain in your lower back and arse. “Shit!” You grunted as you landed on your hands, them scraping ever so slightly on the cold gravel street - that was most likely covered in Pigeon shit and chewing gum.

The woman gasped and Harry had sprinted off before you could even pick yourself back up. You looked over your shoulder, still sat on the floor, to see Harry chasing after some man who had stolen the £20 from the woman’s hand. Oh. The thief didn’t have a chance against your Harry though. He may look cute and cuddly on a good day, but when something bad happens to him or the people he loves he’s a completely different person. He gets all protective and angry. You loved that he had this side to him, but you did prefer his soft side a lot more.

“Oh dear, are you alright pet?” The woman asked, leaning over you worriedly.

“Y-yeah.” You stammered out as your turned to look at her, feeling slightly winded.

“Are you hurt?”

“I don’t think so.” You brought your hands up to examine and saw they were cut only slightly, but mostly just covered in gravel. You dusted your hands off on your jeans and stood up, with the help of a random man and this woman.

“Up ya get, there ya go love.” The man spoke and you thanked him briefly, turning to see whether you could see Harry at all within the crowds of the busy Manchester streets. You sighed in relief when you saw him on his way back to you, guitar swung around on his back.

The woman walked closer to him first as she caught sight of him waving the £20 in the air in victory. You had a few tears in your eyes at the sight of him being so proud of himself, but also hearing onlookers cheering for him. He might’ve got cheers from audiences, big audiences, before but nothing compared to a noble community clap. Harry embraced the friendly woman in a hug and she spoke loud enough so you could hear them both.

“Now you really deserve that £20. Keep it, please.” She begged and Harry gave a side smirk and nodded his head in agreement. He had worked for this, he thought, and he knew just what he was going to do with the money - which in turn, brought his focus back to you.

He thanked people as he weaved his way closer to you, excusing himself so politely. He lifted his notorious busking cap so he could see you better and furrowed his eyebrows in frustration when he remembered how forcefully that thief had pushed you over in order to run off. “Swear to me you’re okay.” He said, knowing you hated being made a fuss of - especially in public.

“I swear.” You smiled at him, allowing him to grasp your hands and kiss his lips all over them, not stopping until not one spot had been left untouched.

“C’mon, let’s finish early today.” He didn’t say it as a question, meaning it was a command and he was ready to leave the city streets for the day.

“Wha— why? And go where?” You stumbled over your words, watching as he started to mess around with his equipment to put it all away.

“Well i’ve got £20 to spend, but apart from that it’s your choice.” He offered, securing his guitar in his case and putting the amplifier and microphone in their cases which you’d carry back to the car - which was, unfortunately, a fifteen minute walk up a hill, but you didn’t mind because you got to do it with Harry. Your other heart.

“Hmm,” you pondered as he packed. Normally you helped but today he wouldn’t let you because of your sore hands and back, “how about we stop off at Tescos and grab a bottle of wine to drink between us, whilst we watch that new crime documentary in the comfort of our bed?” Harry stopped what he was doing to look at you indefinitely.

“This is why I love you Y/N.” He walked over to you and kissed your lips as passionately as he could. He cupped your cheeks and stroked his thumbs against your soft skin. As soon as his lips touched yours, time froze and you were all his for however long he wanted you. You felt his raw emotions bounce off him and he could no doubt feel all of yours.

It was plain and simply, love.

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Of Monsters and Men

Chapter 5- Be Wary Of Old Friends

Summary: Your boys may annoy you at times but you’ll protect them with your life, especially when an unexpected acquaintance makes themselves know.

Warning: monster hunting ensues, reader goes a little feral, a bard in danger

Masterlist

"Hey songbird!" You shout from across the small campsite to where Jaskier is, "You helping pack or are you going to finger that lute all day?" You add with an amused laugh as he throws you a half-hearted glare while you start to snicker at his almost grossed out face.

"Y/N, you are hilarious." Mutters the bard unenthusiastically as he places his prized lute in her travel case, suddenly you hear a stick snap to your left near the woods. Raising to your feet at the sudden noise, you sigh in relief once Geralt emerges from the forest.

"Ah, yes, there you are." Announces Jaskier as he gains Geralt's attention, "Your lady here has been harassing me for the past ten minutes that you've been out and about." He complains, Geralt turns to you with a raised eyebrow.

Scoffing you roll your eyes, "Oh please, I've been the only one doing anything helpful since you've miraculously disappeared, and Jask can't stop from fondling his lute in the meantime." Geralt's lips pull at the corners of his mouth as Jaskier lets out a gasp at your nonchalant explanation.

"I was not fondling anything Y/N! Maybe if I shoved a wooden stake through your chest you'd stop...uh, you'd stop....being mean to me...yeah." Exclaims Jaskier with a hand on his hip, lute strapped to his shoulder as Geralt looks from you to the bard. Oh, you are seriously enjoying this.

A smirk makes its way onto your face at his words, "I'd like to see you try, you pampered little princess." You sass with a raise of your eyebrow as he purses his lips together at your admittedly bland insult, you're just trying to rile him up for the fun of it.

"Maybe I can....be violent, you have yet to see what I can do with these hands." He boasts while Geralt packs a last bag onto Roach's back, doing his best to ignore yourself and Jaskier's back and forth comments.

"Oh right, besides gettin' it on with the ladies of the high court with those sneaky paws of yours...so we have to save your stupid ass when things go south." You chuckle while pulling on your cloak, Jaskier simply shakes his head at you as Geralt leads Roach over to where you're standing.

He gently nudges your arm affectionately, "Come on you two, time to go elsewhere before the sun goes down." Implores Geralt as he looks at your amused face, Roach letting out a snort of agreement.

Jaskier turns his head up towards the cloudy sky, "But it's not even seven in the morning yet." Protests the bard as you walk past him with a mischievous wink.

"You wanted to come remember. Get inspiration for your ballots and all the good shit." He shakes his head as a humored grin comes to his face, you got him there.

"Right. Right. You enjoy my company I know it." Calls after the bard while you continue up the woodland trail, trees and bushes to either side while he turns his attention back to Geralt, "I know it, she's fond of me I can just tell. Underneath all that mystery, satirical annoyance, unprecedented violent tendencies and whatnot. She thinks I'm interesting. Right?" Wonders Jaskier as Geralt leads Roach around him.

He glances at Jaskier for a moment to answer with a bit of wisdom, "Give it some time bard." He mutters, Jaskier jogs over to his side with a puzzled look upon his face implying that Geralt should continue, "It took me a while to gain her full trust and respect, she's just testing you Jask...it's in her nature or something of the like. It's how she shows her love, in her own way." The bard gives a thoughtful nod as he watches you walk down the trail.

"What do I have to do?" Wonders Jaskier with a shrug, "Kill a man with my bare hands...or..or perhaps I must tame a bear to juggle wild rabbit heads?" Inquirers Jaskier as he turns to look at you once again, his eyes going wide as he suddenly realizes you're nowhere to be found.

Jaskier nudges your Witcher who looks at him rather bored like, "Uh, Geralt...uh..wh-where has she gone. I don't happen to see Y/N anymore, I mean we haven't been walking that slow now have we?" He rambles nervously as his head turns from right to left and back down the trail again, "Geralt seriously, where the fuck did Y/N go....I'd really rather not have her scare me, again."

"Now watching you tame a bear..." Jaskier jumps while letting out a small yelp in surprise at the unexpected sound of your sly voice from behind him, "That would be interesting and very entertaining...but no, I just enjoy pushing your buttons cause let me be honest here, its too goddamn easy." Jaskier sends you a glare as you walk to his side while he tries to keep pace with you and Geralt.

"My gods Y/N you're such a...uh well...never mind it, I'm going to have to remind myself that you can hear incredibly well...and do," He points his fingers to your humored form, "That. Even traveling with you two for a whole year and all."

You slowly nod, a thoughtful expression on your face, "If I showed you what else I'm capable of, you'd probably shit yourself so don't fret, I'll save your eyes the horror." Jaskier glances at you with a wary doubtful look in his eyes as he hugs his lute closer in the cool morning breeze. Feeling his suspicious gaze upon you, a low chuckle escapes from your lips that sends mist into the crisp air like a dragon about to spit fire.

"Oh thanks I feel so much better now." Replies Jaskier, sarcasm dripping off of every word.

——

After a solid week of traveling through woodland trails, over bridges, and past rows of plowed fields. Your band of merry adventurers has made it to a small lakeside village overlooking magnificent mountains that tower high into the sky, ones that reflect beautifully off of the shimmering crystal blue lake below.

When you make it to the stables, the sky has turned into an exquisite mix of fiery oranges, reds, and purples that paint the sky and some of her wispy clouds overhead. A cool but refreshing breeze blows in your faces as it makes your cloaks flap in the wind with every new gust.

Once Roach has been fed and watered in her comfortable new temporary stall for the night, you and Geralt make your way to the only tavern in the village where Jaskier can be heard singing loudly his newest ballot. Something about how you and Geralt fought bravely back a pack of fierce shapeshifters on one hunt. The songs almost truthful, the exception being that the shapeshifters were actually old friends of Jaskier's who were pissed off cause he owed them money. In the end, they didn't get any money, mostly because they're not currently alive anymore to need it.

"I was hoping for a quiet evening, we could just drink our fill and then sleep in an actual bed for once....no one to bother us." Admits Geralt as he opens up the wooden door for you to walk inside the warm welcoming tavern.

Turning your face to look up at him you let out a yawn hidden behind your arm, "No one to bother us sounds very enticing." You muse while turning your attention back to the bustling tavern life.

The place is lit up with candles positioned at each table, a roaring fire casts shadows over the room from its prison in the hearth as you find an empty corner just perfect for yourself and Geralt. Taking the lead you walk past a couple drunken tavern goers on your way to the quiet corner of the place. Almost hidden from Jaskier's very loud singing that's taking place by the fire where a significant amount of women are sat, listening intently as they practically undress him with their eyes.

Sliding into the corner first, you lean yourself against the wall as Geralt sits down next to you, your legs touching even though there's enough room that you wouldn't have to be so close. You can tell how much he's been holding back since Jaskier has been around to ruin most of the fun.

Letting out a satisfied sigh as you close your eyes, your ears listen to the sounds of a woman's footsteps approaching your table, "Welcome travelers I'm Misha, what'll it be this even'n?" Announces a peppy teenager through a peculiar accent as she looks between the two of you with big curious brown eyes.

"Two ale's and whatever's on the menu for tonight." Mutters Geralt as you open your scarlet irises while holding your tired head up with the palm of your hand, a lazy smile painted onto your face. Her own eyes widen for a brief moment before she regains her bearings once again, flashing a nervous smile a she abruptly turns on her heel for the kitchens.

Looking over to the lively sight of the singing bard you smile, "Wonder who's going to keep Jask warm tonight, huh?" You chuckle as Geralt turns an amused smirk towards you while you shift your eyes back to the singing bard.

Geralt nudges his shoulder against yours, "Could be that blonde one in green or maybe the redhead to his left?" You find the ladies that he's referring to and watch as Jaskier gives the she-fox a charming wink.

Turning your attention back to Geralt, he looks down at you with a raise of his brow, "Oh it's definitely the redhead, she's already caught his eye so we needn't concern ourselves with him till morning, if all goes well for him that is." You muse as the tavern maid sets two ale's in front of you, a shy smile gracing her young face as she leaves.

Grasping your mug you take a hearty much needed chug before slamming it onto the table and wiping off your mouth, "Oh fuck yeah I've missed what real ale tastes like." You breath out happily as Geralt lightly sets his half empty mug onto the wooden table while you take another sip.

"It's not half bad." He admits with a shrug as you lean into his side.

You're about to comment on how lackluster his review was when your crimson eyes light up at the large single plate of trout and various steaming greens coming your way, "Ah yes our foods here."

After eating your meal and finishing off your glasses while forcing yourselves to listen to Jaskier's ballots that you've heard over a hundred times. You and Geralt get up and head to the bar for a key to a room upstairs. You watch as Jaskier disappears into a room with the redhead from earlier as you turn to face the young woman at the bar.

"Room for two....please." She gives you a quick nod before searching a drawer for the key to a room. Once she finds them you're able to take the rusted old key and walk over to the stairway as Geralt silently follows. The climb up is a short one, your quest taking you both to the end of the dimly lit hallway until you finally reach your room.

Stepping inside you look around the place and notice a small window, a decently large bed, and a fireplace next to it. The room isn't terrible if you're being honest and the bed looks incredibly inviting after sleeping on the ground for almost a month. Your face shifting into a pleasant grin as you drop your belongings and weapon onto the ground.

"Nice place." You add while turning around to give Geralt a knowing smirk, his face breaking out into a grin at your silent implications, "Guess we better test out the bed.." His golden eyes trail up your body as you continue, "make sure it's soft enough and..." You don't have time to finish as Geralt's soft lips have entrapped you into a heated embrace, his calloused hands snaking around you as yours does the same.

He gently leads you backwards until your legs hit the edge of the bed, your lips still locked with one another the whole time, even while he tenderly lays you onto your back. The mattress is soft and inviting as Geralt climbs over you, never once breaking the kiss to your great satisfaction.

——

Walking over to a table, three drinks in one hand and a plate of fresh bread and butter in the other. You watch in amusement at the morning faces of your Witcher and bard who look like they desperately need something to wake them up with.

"So Jask how was the redhead last night, was she all you'd dreamed of...did she fulfill every last perverted wish of yours?" You jest with a smirk as you set the drinks and plate of food onto the table, setting yourself down next to Geralt.

Jaskier shakes his head as a bashful smile appears onto his lips, "It was...very pleasant and uh...that's all the information I'll let you have." He retorts while taking a sip from one of the provided cups in an attempt at hiding behind the glass. Honestly you're kinda glad he has decided against spilling any private details, something he usually does much to yours and Geralt's disgust.

Geralt hums before adding in his two cents, "No one can quite resist your charms no matter where we seem to go." He deadpans while breaking off a warm piece of bread that he kindly hands to you before reaching over to break off a new chunk for himself.

Jaskier looks down with an almost shy smile before taking another sip, "Well, I try not to pride myself or anything, it's just a talent you see...which of course my voice and handiwork with my lute helps, also having you two as friends seems to peak some interest in the ladies now since I think of it." He replies as he stuffs a fluffy piece of bread into his mouth.

"Glad we could help then." You add with a cheerful raise of your mug before downing the rest of the liquid. The three of you taking a couple blissful minutes of peace to eat and wake up.

Glancing around the room you watch for any new tavern goers who may spark your interest as you suddenly decide to get on with your morning, "I'm going to pay, you two want anything while I'm up?"

"Um yeah, Valdo Marx's head on a shiny platter...that's all." Quips Jaskier with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders.

"I'll see what I can do." You reply before turning around and walking over to the bar where the young brown eyed woman is tending to a customer.

Leaning your arms against the shiny wood of the counter you nod to the old man next to you who gives a cautious glare as you turn your head to the bartender, "Misha, right? Here's the coin for the room and the food. We'll be off soon enough."

She turns to you with a frown, "Just one night? That's too bad, we've actually been havin' some troubles 'round here recently and it would be wonderful if you and that Witcher could possibly help..."

"Will you shut it girl, we don't need no outsiders knowing of our business," Snaps the man from earlier as he sneers at her, "We got men handling it just fine." He adds with a gruff nod, his cold steely eyes intimidating to the innocent tavern maid.

Her once happy face goes sad as unshed tears form in her shimmering doe eyes while she ignores the grump, "Twenty are already dead miss, my poor brother included..."

"Shut your fucking mou.."

"If you interrupt her again I'll cut off your tongue and shove it up your ass." You threaten as your eyes glow bright red, the old greying man abruptly goes silent at your heated warning as you turn your cooler demeanor back to the young girl, "Tell me more about this...whatever the fuck that's slaughtering your village's men."

Her brows furrow in troubled thought as she looks back up to you, "Uh, they come back looking, well...mutilated, their throats practically torn out, their chests ripped open and their eyes gone, bodies pale as ghosts." A frightful expression flashes across her terrified face, "But it's not just the men.." She whispers while leaning her head in closer to yours, "The village women have gone missing, snatched from their beds in the middle of the night...never seen from again...no one knows who takes them but..."

"How long has this been going on for?" You quickly interrupt, wanting to find out if your growing suspicions are possibly correct.

"About five months now, it happens around the same time every month in fact, oh god...this night is when the beast usually strikes...", A single tear runs down the side of her face as she tries to control her trembling, "I don't want to be taken miss, but I must tell you....some have said that the creature walks like a man, is too swift to be truly seen, and can magically get into your house...no matter if its locked or not." Your eyebrows furrow in concern for the girl and this alarming news that's slowly starting to fit into place.

"You said tonight yes...hm alright, where have these bodies been found, I mean isn't there any tracks in the mud or sand, on trails?" Misha quickly shakes her head as the old man listens intently, thankfully minding his own.

Smirking at a new and appealing thought you find her wary eyes once again, "I've gotten an idea, would your village happen to have a carriage for long traveling, I think we may be able to lure the beast away from the village with the thing during the time that you claim it comes into town." She gives a hopeful smile as you return one just the same.

"Miss I can get that arranged for you in no time. Meet me by the stables, an hour before sunset and my father will have the carriage waiting....oh bless you, he'll be ever so grateful." She affirms happily with a beaming smile, though behind it all you can tell how truly terrified she really is. She hopes whatever plan you have works, you're hoping it will too.

Setting down your coin, she quickly takes it before tending to another tavern goer, but as you turn to leave the old man grasps your arm, "Do you really think its possible, that the man-beast can be killed?" He wonders in a hushed tone as he looks up with pleading eyes, they soon turn skeptical once again, "I don't believe a word anyone says until I see it with me own two eyes."

Removing his arm from your own you nod to him, "I'll gut the fucker and put its head on a spike, then you'll know for yourself." His face morphs into a troubled expression as you leave him doubting by the bar, your mind now set on how to handle the new problem hiding like a coward in the woods.

—-

Walking to the stables with Geralt by your side and Jaskier on your tail, you casually touch the side of your hip, making certain that your silver dagger is still in its place.

"So what...or I guess whom do you presume this monster is again Y/N?" Questions the bard as he falls in step with you.

"I'll be one hundred percent certain once I actually see it, Jask. So until then, no more questions or I'll shove that pretty jacket of yours down your throat." You muse as he gives a curt nod.

"Yes alright, noted Y/N. Noted." Mutters Jaskier as Geralt holds back a laugh.

Once the three of you make it to the stables, you're pleasantly surprised to find a black two horsed carriage awaiting you along with Misha and her father who appears to be rather glad that someone is finally here to put an end to the deaths and mystery. She instructs you three to trek on the northern trail, where the pine forest is located, same area that the man-beast has made its hunting grounds, or so its claimed.

With that in mind you direct Geralt to take the reigns and for Jaskier to hold a silver sword as he keeps himself in the actual carriage, while you keep close by in the woods for a better view of the beast and where it may be coming from. Then just like that you're off and into the crisp night air as a full moon graces you all with its brightness upon the land, you fly through the great pine trees as you follow Geralt who's leading the horses down the wide woodland trail. Luckily the woods seem mostly vacant of bushes and greenery of the like, only tall bristly pines tower over the ground as they leave the woods shadowed from the rising moon.

"Geralt. Heyyyyyy Geeeeraltttt." Whines Jaskier from within the small carriage as Geralt holds tightly onto the leather reigns, a soft cool breeze blowing his silver hair back.

"What?" Grumbles the Witcher with a sigh, eyes set to the path ahead.

Jaskier leans back into the velvety cushions as he crosses his arms over his chest, "You think I could have a peek, you know...sit up there with you? I mean come on, I'm not seeing shit back here and I think.."

"No."

Letting out a huff in annoyance, the bard knocks onto the back of the wall where Geralt is leaned against on the other side, "Y/N doesn't have to know. I'll be as still as a statue and quieter then a dormouse...she'll never even know." Exclaims Jaskier has he pauses for a second to see if Geralt gives a shit, not getting anything he continues, "Come on, this man-beast or whoever the fuck can't be that horrendous now can it right? Those villagers could have been pulling her leg for all we know, what if its just a werewolf, I mean seriously it is a full moon after all. Perfect scenario, the stars are quit literally aligning....hellooooo its gotta be a werewolf."

"It left bodies and has taken multiple women, this is something else. So I advise you to shut the fuck up." Growls Geralt over the clip clopping of the horses hooves against the hardened ground. Jaskier wisely decides to keep silent and instead look out the tiny window as a way to distract himself. He watches as a sea of trees pass by, the occasional fern cluster rising from the roots, and a reddish brown blur that goes from tree to tree.

Squinting he realizes that this mystery blur is most definitely not just a figment of his imagination and quit possibly hunting them from the tree tops. He stares on in confused bewilderment as the man like thing jumps from one branch to the next in rapid succession, although he's only able to catch a prominent glimpse of it as the moonlight catches it when it jumps. The creature looks black in the white light of the full moon, a large healthy mane of reddish brown hair flying as it lunges from tree to tree. Still too fast to fully make out.

He blinks and a second later the creature is gone, Jaskier lets out a whispered "oh shit" as he shuts the tiny window and grasps the hilt of his silver sword while hastily knocking on the carriage wall, "Geralt I saw it, I fucking saw it...Y/N wasn't lying this thing is most definitely not a werewolf."

Geralt's brows furrow in confusion as he listens to what Jaskier is rambling on about, "What did it look like?"

"Like a fucking pale monkey man wearing black with red hair or something. I don't know it happened so fast...sorry I was too busy getting my prized jewels fondled by the lovely elven lady in this carriage to notice anything else." He sasses from the back as Geralt rolls his eyes, suddenly the carriage jostles from the rear like something has angrily rammed into it.

"That wasn't me." Squeaks out Jaskier with wide eyes as he firmly clutches his sword with both hands. A moment later something fast with sharp talons whips past Geralt's head from the right as it leaves a clean slice on his cheek, and then its gone again like it never even happened. He snaps his head in the direction of the creature, too late to catch a glimpse.

Eyeing up the area around him, he braces for another unexpected assault, "Where are you?" Whispers Geralt to no one in particular as he holds onto the reigns with one hand and a sword in his other as he waits for the beast to make itself known. He can sense the nervousness radiating off of the galloping horses as he watches ahead of him, the pine trees swaying in the wind, making it increasingly more difficult to tell where the beast is coming from. On the inside of the carriage Jaskier braces for more trouble as a moment later, without warning the carriage lifts off of the ground before slamming into the dirt trail with a loud crack. The back wheels snapping off with the abrupt impact, he falls forward into the nearby cushions as the carriage skids in the dirt.

"Fuck." Mutters Geralt through clenched teeth as the horses race onward, then to his great astonishment, one of them lets out a horrific scream as a river of blood pours forth from its muscular neck by an unseen force that he must have missed when he was trying to regain his bearings after the back wheels collapsed.

He watches in confusion and slight fear as the bleeding horse clashes into the other, the both of them abruptly tripping over themselves in a screeching heap as they fall to the earth. Bringing the carriage down with them, the Witcher jumps for the safety of the ground as the vessel tips onto its side, the only live horse whining in pain as one of the broken wooden pieces lodges itself into the poor animals stomach.

Jumping to his feet, Geralt races over to the bent in door where he quickly pulls it open to reveal a bruised bard, Jaskier's sword stuck into the back wall. He smiles up to Geralt as a trail of blood seeps out of his nose, "I'm gonna be honest here, but that was not something I'd rather ever do again." He confesses as the Witcher pulls him out and onto his feet as they stand back and assess their woodland surroundings.

Suddenly they hear a branch snap from up above near the tree line where the edge of the trail begins, before a dreamy chuckle snaps their attention over to a stunning pale faced man approaching them from out of the woods. He looks at them curiously through fiery ember eyes, his long tousled reddish-brown hair hanging all about as it cascades down his muscular shoulders all the way to his lower back. On his lean slender body does he adorn himself with black attire under an equally as dark long-coat that just barely touches the frosting ground below. He's rather quite attractive all things considered, as he swaggers through the moonlight with not a weapon in sight, or anything for that matter in his gloveless hands, only but a few golden rings clinging to their master that shine in the moonlight.

He hands Geralt and Jaskier a sly grin, revealing sharp pearly white fangs as he stops a good couple yards away from them, "So you're the infamous White Wolf...and of course...his loyal bard." Inquires the mysterious vampire as he speaks in an entrancing velvety voice, his glowing irises watching their every move as he tilts his head to the side, "But alas, you lack one which I would love to grace my aged eyes upon once again." Reveals the enticing man as he looks dismally to the ground before he raises his head to smile again, his beautiful reddish hair parting perfectly onto either side of his sculpted marble face.

"Are you the one who's been killing men and taking the women?" Snaps Geralt as he points an accusing sword towards the smirking vampire.

The man merely shrugs, a single hair falling seductively over his eye as he peers through it at your Witcher, "The men are simply human cattle, barely worth the air they breath. The women on the other hand, came willingly into my open arms from their beds and rather dreary mundane lives. My compliant acquisitive lovers if you will." Assures the ember eyed vampire as he takes a step closer, Jaskier taking one back as he stands behind Geralt, the vampire smirking at him as Jaskier tries to hide.

"Don't touch the bard." Growls Geralt while holding up his silver sword defensively, "He's not worth your energy."

The vampires face changes to that of a fake pout, "Oh my dear Witcher, I admire your bravery and valor...but I'm hungry and I will get what I desire one way or another." The vampires fiery eyes darken as he races towards the two of them in a black and orange blur, Geralt and Jaskier falling helplessly onto the crunchy leaves just mere feet from one another as the vampire paces in front of them like a lion in a cage. The bloodsucker suddenly stops and watches in amusement as the two groan in pain while trying to sit up again. He tilts his head to the side like a curious wolf observing their prey, before deciding to take another step.

"Velkyn."

He halts all movement as his body goes tense for a split second before his otherworldly charming aurora surrounds him once more, with a fangy smile upon his dashing features he turns around to the low growl emitting from deep in your throat.

His orbs of hellfire trail you up and down as you glare at him, "Why don't you look stunning, my dear Y/N. How longs it been...ninety, one-hundred, two-hundred years my love?"

Your face turns into a pissed off scowl at his words, "You. Don't get to call me that, you fucking cocksucker." He unpretentiously lets out a mock gasp at your bold sharpness, amused that you're still as out-spoken and feisty as ever.

Setting a hand on his slender hip, Velkyn smiles an incredibly punchable grin, "Ouch. You haven't seen me in almost two-hundred years and the second those beautiful scarlet eyes of yours grace my body..."

"What are you doing away from Alkatraz?" You interrupt as your fists clench in agitation, "What, did they finally see how much of a piece of shit you actually are?" You snap as he sends you a nasty glare, the side of his nose scrunching up in displeasure.

"I chose to leave the coven, the Queen gave her blessing an..."

"Right. You mean she threatened you, giving yourself one chance to flee before her death-hounds tore you to shreds. Sounds more plausible." You impede as he squints at you menacingly.

Jutting out a hip, he eyes you up once again, "Very clever, princess. No matter....you will leave me alone and I will continue on my marry way as things have gone on, before you decided to ruin everything."

Letting out an amused chuckle, you slowly unsheathe your silver dagger, "You're nothing but a cantankerous infant, murdering innocents....seducing the women while having your fun and sucking them of their life force." He tilts his head up as his flaming irises never once leave your face, "I know they didn't go willingly you fucking diseased little cunt....I'm rather going to enjoy as I watch the lights go out, leaving you as nothing more then food for maggots." Velkyn hums in irritation before swiftly turning around and bolting for Geralt and Jaskier.

But before he's able to reach them you're at his side, throwing him into a tree as he smacks into the tough wood with a clash of bark and limbs. Once he's onto his two feet again, he looks up just as you violently grab his shoulders and in one fluid motion, throw him across the forest floor. Geralt and Jaskier watching on with wide eyes the whole time.

"Fuck me, you still have it." Sputters Velkyn as a single red streak of blood trails down the side of his mouth. You smirk at this pathetic excuse of a vampire as you race towards him in a blur, he tries to retreat but before he can even get up off of the ground you've already cracked your boot against his skull. He tumbles in the dirt with a pained grunt, suddenly flying up to his feet in an instant as he growls at you. Within seconds he's thrust you into the trunk of a tree as your dagger falls from your hand at the sudden impact, he tightly grasps onto your arms as he throws you harshly upon the trail, leaving you dazed and more furious then ever.

"Not as clever as you'd like to think you are Y/N, I drink human blood. You don't." He brashly affirms as he watches you pick yourself up from the ground, dirt and blood smeared against your face. Licking the bloody cut now adorning your bottom lip, you mockingly chuckle at him, earning a puzzled expression across his pale features while the slice in your skin heals.

"You can't kill me." The whites of your eyes begin shifting to an obsidian black as your skin turns a greyish blue color, "I am Y/N of Alkatraz, the Vampire Queens only daughter....do that again and I'll rip out your entrails while you scream for death."

Velkyn hisses before turning himself into a half man half bat-like creature, face a contortion of bat and human man, his skin a milky pale as a large pair of webbed wings emit from his back. He suddenly screeches at you before spreading out his wings, readying himself to take flight. Doing what you know must be done to prevent his escape you shift yourself into a similar form, a pair of greyish blue wings stretching out from your back muscles as you thrust yourself into the air, just as Velkyn reaches the tops of the tree branches.

Gaining on him in no time, you grasp his pale human sized bat leg, he snaps his grotesque bat-like face down to you while you growl at him from below, "Fuck do you think you're going?" You snap before pulling him down to the harsh forest floor, he lands roughly onto his back as your legs fall to either side of him.

Growling in fury he quickly shoots up his talons in an attempt at clawing at your chest and face, but before he's able to commit anymore damage. You've ripped open his exposed stomach with a single slash of your claws, a second later he lets out a blood curdling shriek as a hot river of red pours out of him, his insides beginning to seep out just the same.

In a desperate last attempt to injure you, his eyes go wide in raging madness as his free arm lunges for your neck, you see it coming a mile away. So in retaliation you quickly pin his arms to the ground as you sink your fangs deep into his pale neck as he cries out in agony at your vicious assault. You feed on him until he's gone limp, your more primal hunger taking over your vessel until you abruptly catch the familiar scent of your Witcher and fearful bard.

Releasing Velkyn's mutilated throat, you shift back into your normal self as blood drips down from your chin and neck, tiny red droplets plopping onto the frosty hardened earth below like warm raindrops on a spring afternoon. Breathing heavily you avoid their suffocating gazes that you're sure are terrified from what you've just done.

"Uh, Y/N. You alright?" Wonders Jaskier as you slowly trail your crimson eyes upon his concerned face. You're confident that you look like a wild animal right now, with your hair a mess, clothes dirty, and half your face covered in blood. But nonetheless they look at you kindly, their brows furrowing in worry for your well-being.

Geralt suddenly makes eye contact with you before reaching down to pick up your forgotten silver dagger, he takes a step forward as he reaches out the dagger in your direction.

On instinct you glide backwards, setting your boots upon the ground once more as your Witcher frowns, "Y/N I wouldn't dare lay a hand upon you.." He assures with sincere pleading eyes as you look down to the grass below. Slowly lifting your blood covered hands into your line of sight, you stare at them with wide saddened eyes as tiny beads of ruby falls to the ground.

"My hands, they're covered in..."

"I know," Your eyes trail up to find his golden irises, "come on there's a stream down the trail, we'll get you cleaned up. Then we can go to the tavern and sleep until the next evening if that's what you'd like" Assures Geralt with a gentle smile upon his handsome face, he understands how much of a monster you truly feel right now, so he's willing to do whatever he can to bring you a bit of comfort in this overwhelming moment.

You let out a tired huff of air as he slowly approaches you, his face so close to yours you could almost touch him, but you don't considering you're covered in blood, "I think I'll take you on that offer, but could you stop looking at me with those pretty eyes of yours before I lose my self control. You're doing it again." You muse with a small smile upon your blood stained face.

"And what would you do then?" He challenges in that lowly voice of his, those big amber eyes taking you all in no matter how grisly your state of being is.

Smiling up at him through your pearly white fangs you lean in close, "Then I would mark you as all mine, in my own way of course. You'd love it without a doubt in my mind." He blinks, a lovestruck expression crossing over his features with a brief flash of lust hidden in his golden eyes while he leans in a tad closer. Your faces so close that you can see every little beautiful blemish and scar adorning his skin as his eyes swallow you whole.

"Uh guys? Can we...you know....leave. I don't know if you've noticed but we have two dead horses and a bloody monster corpse within smelling distance. And wheew, it is not a pleasant scent." Interrupts Jaskier, breaking the intimate moment between you and Geralt as you take a step back to laugh. Geralt's loving gaze following you the whole time before he turns around to glare at the oblivious bard.

—-

Laying your tired head against the soft pillows of the warm tavern's bed, you look up to the wooden beamed ceiling as Geralt holds you close by his side, a protective muscly arm pinning you to the mattress. Not that you'd mind or anything, in fact it feels rather pleasant after your taxing encounter with an old acquaintance of yours just last night.

You sleepily close your eyelids as you listen to the soft snores emitting from your dreaming Witcher, a blissful smile forming onto your lips as he pulls you closer in his sleep. Maybe life in this mystery box of a Continent isn't so bad when you have someone like Geralt to take care of you when things get a bit out of hand.

And with you, that seems to happen a lot.

-

Tagged:  @notahappytree​ @ashleyforeverareject​ @sokkasdarling​ @kmuir1​​@haleypearce @diegos-butt​​ (@auds24 sorry idk why ur name won’t work)

[weneepaw]

Handcuffs / Ep 01 _ Invitation

Word count: 5.8K

Characters: Wonho x Honey (just a fictional character)

Genres: Angst, Romance, Smut, Fluff in some other sides

Warning for this part: English is not my first language so if you see some errors in grammar or words please don't mind it and enjoy it 😅😅

Summery: Lee Wonho is an idol, a god like one but he has some secrets in his life, just like all other normal people. But those secrets are turning to some serious problems and hurting his feelings. Every time he thinks about them, things are just going worse. He needs help to fix himself and finds a way to go free and it's like he found a great one at his birthday night party. Or maybe he just thought in that way? Will she becomes a helpful friend or only a disaster to ruin his life?

After some long weeks, there is a time for him to getting some rest. He was so busy lately and working so hard non-stop to his ass off on his albums and choreography of stages because he needs to get his place at business and manage his life in the best situation. He always wants everything to be perfect and flawless, so he works until midnight to the sunrise for days and skips his time to rest because he just can’t sleep when his damn brain doesn’t stop thinking about songs and stages and how they could be in fans’ eyes. Fans are always so much important and valuable to him, like always he says they keep him alive, but that much caring about them sometimes makes him forget about himself and what he needs as a normal big boy. He is an adult male, after all his schedules and his career, he needs to have a normal life and a healthy sex life too, for sure. But every time he is asked about having a girlfriend or being in a relationship, he shows his teenager shy smiles and says, he is happy to be alone and he has his fans, but let’s be honest, fans can make his sex life to be real? He knows the answer as everyone else does but he just disregards and prefers to think about how he can be on his own best for others.

Of course, he is damn good at everything, he is super talented and has a perfect look. From head to toes, he is the definition of perfection at one sight. He got a perfect buff body that worked on it hard for 10 years his ass off again, just like other things, and still cares about it too much. He and his body are out of genders to be loved and his personality is much more adorable than his muscles or abs. he can talk in that way to makes your heart meltdown over his voice and smiles, His beautiful sparkling eyes and his damn soft pink lips are too cute to handle but besides of all these sweet features and his manly look, there is always some secrets in the dark. He usually tries to ignore those secrets and telling himself he still has time to fix some hidden problems but also, he knows it’s already getting too late for it.

Tonight is a special night for him and his friends made a little party for him in a VIP club named “Lady M Club”. This party is all private and there are no worries about getting caught while having some fun. All the guests must have an invitation card to get permission to come in, so everyone there are idols or important people who want to have a good time in their personal space.

His all friends are present and so excited to make him surprised. but for him, today was only like other days to get up, go to work and only focus on the songs till night and then get back home. But his friends want to give him some happy moments and a little gift for his birthday, thanking and appreciating him after all the time of his hard work. Sure he deserves it all, but he doesn’t know it, himself.

He is just relaxing in the back seat of the car, while his manager is driving him home. In the space of the care is nothing but silence. He looks tired and leans his head back, watching lights of the cars and stores in street sides coming and going away, thinking about his life. Life is like this car and lights are like people, but he is always just like now. In his personal life, he just can watch them coming and leaving, there is no one who he can be able to hold it tight, but the fans. Anyway, he always can’t deny it all the time, he feels alone. Most of the nights and sunset hours of the days, when everyone is drowning in their own life and going on their ways, it’s only him, lonely on his bed, in the gym, in the room, in the studio, or wherever else. He tries hard to only keep his mind on his job and fans, but he is a human after all and needs someone only for him. And there is a fact, fans can’t just fill this gap in his life up.

Tonight, he will be on his 28 and another year passed so fast. Time is flying so damn fast and he is thinking about his dark secrets, the reason for being alone all these years and even running away from talking with his family or friends about marriage or being in a relationship. Even when he is thinking about it, he is under stress and uncomfortable feels come around because when he is trying to find a way to fix it, things just go weird and scary more and more indiscriminately. Lately, he is even trying to escape thinking about it but he can’t stop this body to do not react. He needs and unfortunately, he knows it, but can’t do anything for it.

He is all drowning in his fears and doesn’t notice that car is moving in another way and it’s not even close to his place. When he just snaps back on the present life, the car was in front of an unknown club door. He becomes confused and looking around.

“What’s this?” he whispers under his lips. He has no idea what is coming up.

“Your friends and team Wonho decided to build an especial night for you, so better you don’t make them wait for it more.” His manager states and comes out of the car. He smiles before coming down. His friends always were kind and so cherish him. They always were in his side in the best or worst times in the professional or ordinary times of his life and warming his heart up to go on and be the best. He always had a good and happy time with them, so tonight will be one of those good memories too.

He walks into the club's hall, following his manager. Suddenly lights and sparklers all around the hall turn on with a loud voice of crowd in there, singing the happy birthday song for him. His friends holding a big cake in their hands, his backup dancers are clapping and singing so happily, even his hairstylists and makeup artists are there to celebrate this wonderful night with him.

There is a cute chubby white rabbit on that light blue creamy cake with a big “happy birthday”, plus 2 little candles. He looks like a happy baby, standing right there and watching his friends and that creamy cake with a big cute grin on his face. He likes creams on the cake more than all of it so there is no wonder why he tries to take some creams from it even before blowing on the candles. He tastes his creamy finger with giggles as sweet as the cake flavor and finally, blows the candles with the ending of the happy birthday song.

Everyone makes noise for this big little boy and he looks incredibly happy. But it didn’t take too long because he hears a question reminding him of some fears.

“What did you wish before blowing on candles?” Minhyuk asks and makes his smiles almost disappear. By the way, he tries to hold it on and pretends as nothing happened. He had no wish on his mind before, but when he asked it, one word just passes from his thoughts. He surreptitiously wishes his fears be gone and stop hurting his feelings more.

“Nothing. I already got everything I want and I need, like best friends and going on billboard charts.” He says but it mostly smells like a lie.

“Yes, you make everyone jaws drop with your songs and concerts. You are one of the best male solo artists now. We are so proud of you bro.” Shownu says, putting his hand on his shoulder so proudly. But while he was appreciating him, another bro comes up with some annoying words.

“But now, living alone must be hard and boring, right hyung?” Changkyun asks and makes keeping that fake smile even harder. Now they were sitting around the table and start eating some piece of cake. He just drops his head down, knowing they are waiting for his words to know if he is doing well alone? So he has to answer it and stop making them consider that.

“It was hard at first and I was nervous about everything because I always had you guys around and now I have to take it all alone but I tried to take control. I’m fine now, don’t worry about me.” He scrambles at his best but it doesn’t look like if it works. That just turns to a switch on for his friends that are close to him as his dear little brothers show their feelings about his empty place at home and talking about some old memories. Memories are tasting bitter-sweet now. He will always keep them deep down in his heart and never forget or leave them but he can’t deny he does miss those days too. Sometimes, the world is just too cruel but we have to go on like him.

Only some minutes later, space just gets back on a fun and happy night. Everything is ready for having a good night out of all idol hustle life and just be young, wild, and free for everyone, but him. He just sits there alone, watching his friends dancing around or flirting with some of the girls at the party. He is rolling down on his thoughts and even didn’t notice the loud song in the club until he finds his ears are reacting as a female voice volume up. He gives his glance to the source of the voice, to the canter of attention on the little stage in front of the hall.

Some girls are singing and dancing there but one of them is the main vocal. Her voice is strong and will stay in your mind forever but it’s not just about that. She has 2 big dark beautiful eyes full of little stars. It’s kinda impossible to do not stare at her, with her black short hair, bright smiles while a red danger color has painted her lips and a shiny black short decollete dress hugs her craved body so tight. She makes sure that every girl in the party feels nervous about losing their men over her.

Hoeseok finds her looking at him back but there was a male familiar voice to steal his attention and give it to the owner of it.

“She’s pretty.” It’s Hyungwon, standing beside him from how god knows long minutes before and he didn’t notice his presence.

“y-Yes. But I was just watching the show like others.” He tries to protect himself, clearing his throat to make his voice goes right into Hyungwon's ears and don’t cause any misunderstanding. But it’s like Hyungwon is already into another thought of reality as he smiles with some special meanings to his friend.

“She’s a new friend of ours so we decided to introduce you to her too. This club belongs to her.” Hyongwon explains more about that female fatal who is still watching them with no shame on her wild eyes. Hoseok only shakes his head as he got the information and decides to drop his head because he is already choking with a clumsy feel boiling inside of him and he doesn’t want it to jump out with a blush on his face.

He just wants his night to go as well with no drama or any chaotic issues but it's freaking hard to focus on himself while that female voice is feeling ticklish in his ears like a magical spell to take him back and watch how mysterious she can be. But no, he is not one of those types of boys who are looking for pretty sexy girls to add some fun to their life. He just minds his own business and stays away from all troubling shits. He goes on his way.

Fortunately, songs finished and noises calm down but it doesn't mean party night is over. He is just pleased that voice is gone, so he can keep himself down easily, but it's like everything is out of his control tonight. Because while he is getting successful on taking good enough self-control, he hears Changkyun is greeting so warm to someone new-coming in the crow and automatically feels anxious rush in his bloodlines.

Before he tries to look at the new one, that familiar damage control female voice plays in his ears again. It's her, now closer and even more dangerous than what she seemed from the top of that little stage. She's perfectly a red light alert of danger to any man who is not about to get in deadly troubles, but also her bright smile pushes any buttons to make keeping any good controls impossible. He's not that crazy or even drunk to do any weird act, but he just feels he can't keep his eyes on himself when she is around. That girl is no good for his health because his heartbeat is already rose so damn fast and its pumping voice fills up his ears. He can't hear others' voices when they talk and laugh with her and her friends, until he feels Hyungwon's hand on his shoulder, saving him from a feeling like a coma with open eyes.

“I’m Chae Honey. Nice to meet you.” He only sees that girl in front of himself, offering her hand and introducing herself with a light smile on his red lips. Maybe he is all mesmerized by this foreign girl who has a face almost close to Korean cute babies but he still knows how should be polite or just try to keep himself together and push himself to DO NOT look like a boy who didn’t see any other girls in his life before.

“I’m Lee Hoseok, as might you know my name already, and nice to meet you too.” He says with a simple smile and tries to look confident enough. He secretly hopes they don’t see his clear embarrassing symptoms, as red cheeks or stupid look smiles. He has no idea what's wrong with him now because clearly he was around many beautiful girls before and he usually didn’t give a flying fuck, so what's different now?

“Oh, of course, I know you.” She states with a bigger grin. Her friends are already giggling behind her and whispering things between themselves. She tries to join them, but she didn’t even bother to keep her voice as a whisper to say “He’s too cute, isn’t he?”

And he just finds himself turning to their funny entertainment for rest of the night. This is so fucking embarrassing. They easily sit together and raise a toast for his birthday but intenlligibly, he just smiles and apologizes because he can’t join them for the peach champagne. He doesn’t like to drink while he knows it will catch him only on 2 shots and he will make himself even more ashamed in front of others. No thanks, He prefers to stay away as much as it's possible from them and rolls down on his thoughts' gray clouds.

But it didn't take too long. His friends want to enjoy and use all of their time with girls, music, and alcohol. What he doesn’t want to do. Why the fuck even he is here now for? It was like a torture on birthday's night before they leave, but when the last one, Shownu, just left and let him be alone with that damage control girl, it just turns to a perfect slowly death to him. The best he can do now is just stare at his feet and play with his glass of orange juice.

But he doesn’t know, the more he tries to be invisible, the more he attracts her attention to his shy behaves. She watches every move of him. His fingers gently dancing around on edge of glass between his hands, his nervous eyes, the way he moves neurotically his legs on the floor. He looks so cute to be able NOT To stare. It's rude but she just can't help.

“You are acting so awkward.” She says, while she keeps her big tempting eyes on him and drinks the last sip of her champagne. Almost makes him jump of his seat, surprised by her words. It wasn't hard for her to catch him up and he knows it completely, but he doesn’t want to be that easy.

“Excuse me?” He tries in his way to show things differently, hoping it works out and confuses her. But she didn't change her mind even for one second and just smirks. Like she already has read his mind and knows everything. What a dangerous lady!

“I’ve seen lots of boys and big men in my life and you are not like any of them around me. You are feeling so uncomfortable from that first moment you saw me. What’s the problem? I’m just wondering.” She lets her empty glass rest freely alone on the table and pulls herself closer to him, to make sure he hears every word she spells with her tongue. But it makes him even more nervous. Any move of her, even a simple breath and even that sweet scent of her, makes him nervous. She is so harmful to him.

“I’m just surprised by all this show because I was on my way home and suddenly I saw myself here. I apologize if I made you feel bad because of my behavior. I’m just tired.” He explains as best as he could, hoping he just leave him to be and find another fun company of her own for rest of the night, but she doesn’t want to go anywhere. He catches her eyes already. Rabbit on a damn shit trap.

“Yes, but it’s not for working too much until the morning.” She says with a smirk that makes her look even more devilish. He watches her like she's the real Satan and just comes on the earth to deceives him and makes him do horrible things. But the fear in his eyes only causes a beautiful light tone laugher of her.

“Don’t look at me like I’m a witch or something. I just know that kind of tiredness. And for your knowledge, I’ve seen lots of celebrities here and talked to them more often too.” She apprises to him about the truth of her. Might it help him relax and tries to have some fun.

“I don’t know what are you looking for on me, lady.” His words come out so cold like ices on a glass of whiskey, audibly talking to her about letting him go, but will she give up? absolutely not!

“Honestly nothing because you look like a statue of Michelangelo but only made of glass and I can see everything without even bother to ask.” She giggles silently after saying those words, mostly looks like saying she kinda gets into him already, but just even he can take the point? Not at all!

“I'm trying to make you take it easy.” So she tries to talks at an easier level of flirting.

“Yes. But I don’t need that ma'am.” And there we go again with Hoseok and his words from another level of speaking to fuck off bitch topic but in a polite way. He even doesn’t want to take a chance for himself to know a girl who is showing green lights to him, to come into her world.

“Ain’t you prince charming baby boy? Because you look like a gentleman jumping out of one of the fairy tails.” She speaks of that fact which is saying, the more you push and the more I'll follow.

“Are you trying to flirt with me?” He asks with a suspicious look on his face. Of course he found that out from the very beginning but he doesn’t want to accept it. Even now he hopes more kicking that he found her point on her face, would makes her to get off. But mostly and far from his hopefully wishes to all dead and living Gods, she looks like saying to herself ,,GOD! He finally finds out what's going on,,.

“Maybe. Just for finding what’s the problem of those red cheeks and wet hands?” She states and wants him to know his nervous acts are so clear and there's no need to try harder to hide them because he simply can not. But the ice-cold-look boy keeps his glances away and leaves her only with no words.

“Maybe a female Hitler girlfriend?” She tries to guess. When he doesn’t want to play with her, she continues it alone.

“Ah no!” He says in an annoyed tone. He looks so done already with her but why just doesn’t leave and run away to save himself from this devil murmuring in his ears now? “No, I have no girlfriend.” He just says to make her stop.

“Interesting big boy!” She says while thinking about other possibilities. “So may I ask why no girlfriend?” she tries again with another guess.

“Because I have a very busy lifestyle.” He lazily answers, almost giving up on her little game.

“OH God, please! Be honest with a girl like me who knows 99% of idols has their lovers.” She says in disbelief. In her thoughts, a man just like him never can be alone in his life because he is already too perfect to be untouched by no girl's hands. Girls are ready to kill for him, she can swear.

“Maybe I’m just on that 1%.” He states against her judging tone and raises an eyebrow. Now he looks like that devil which he used to imagine her in disguise.

“People on that 1% are only looking for a good partner, so do you?” She continues on her explains about what she almost experienced with people around her and at the end, when she indirect points at what scares that big boy in front of her the shit out, she just killed all the warming up space between herself and him.

When he just drowns in his silence again, she tries this time to read his facial expressions. “There is something that you are hiding from everyone, Lee Hoseok.” She speaks about what she can see behind his eyes. There's a secret. A truth is untold to anyone.

As to keep saying no words is not a good way to reject lady devil away, he gets another idea. “How old are you?” And he asks to start it with a question.

“It’s a dangerous question to ask from a lady, big boy.” She says perfectly amazed by this change in his voice and sentence.

“I just wonder because your beautiful face can’t talk honestly and your tongue is about to have over 30.” So now he tries his best to use some of his flirting skills. He and everyone around know he is one of the best boys on it, so it's better he uses it now.

“Oh my my! I’m only 22.” She says almost raising her volume and puts a hand on her chest as he hurts her with his mean words. Acting just like a drama queen. That looks funny and makes him smile.

“If I had a sister, she could be your age.” He playfully talks before takes the last sip of orange juice on his glass.

“But people don’t flirt with their sisters, so I dare you to call me sisi now.” She wiggles her eyebrows while talking back in the same tone as his. Causing a warm laugher between them like they are not strangers anymore and it feels right.

He feels better now around her. He likes the power she holds and how she is full of positive energy even while he kept pushing her away and tries to break her heart politely, but he couldn't. He just can't break a girl like her or maybe better say because this is her. An especial one.

As the silence back, Honey finds some heavy glances on themselves. It was Hoseok friends, hopefully watching them and wishing under their whimpers between each other that Hoseok finally decides to move on and step up to another level of his life. A new thing and new feels.

“They’re thinking you are finally starting something.” She calmly tells him what she already found from their way to watch them and trying hard to do not act like they are watching their most exciting favorite TV shows.

“Why is that so matter?” His annoyed tone backs when he looks up at his friends and makes them immediately turn around and do anything to look normal as much as possible.

“Because they want you to be happy.” Honey tries to make him understand that his friends only want him to have a life for himself.

Before this party and even the time that they all decided to plane a big gift for him, Honey and Hyongwon and sometimes with other boys, they talked about how Hoseok lives as Wonho on stage and mostly he forgets the Hoseok part of his life. That personal part, that part which should be full of his things, not fans, not friends, not even his family but only him and what he enjoys doing. They always said how he cares about others more than himself and it's not hard to find him completely lost in thoughts to how to fix things when someone is talking about its own problems.

Secretly, boys thought that probably Honey is the one who can change Hoseok's life with her special powers of being a female alpha. They just wanted to give a chance to their best and kind friend to get some happiness for himself. But this all wasn't like Honey didn't know anything about the secret plane.

She knew Hoseok or that sexy Wonho always shinning on TV or everywhere else he appears with his god-like body shape. She silently had a little crush or some ticklish feel for him but she wasn't sure to look perfect enough to be with an amazing complete man like him.

This female fatal always tries to look so incredible and shine better than other girls around, but on another side, she always asks herself is she enough for everything? Is she good at what she's doing? And in her own eyes, no matter how much she tries, she's never all enough. Maybe it's all because she never had someone simply told her that she's fine. She doesn't need to push herself too much to get through. People always expect too much and they don't understand how it can hurt.

Suddenly, she finds herself drowning in staring at him like she is all about to appreciate one of the best and awesome works of art just here next to her. He is tired and needs to sleep, so she thinks it's better to make the night shorter and let him to finds his peace for what is left of the dark hours of the night.

“I have to wait till they back and we give you this. But I think before you get more awkward in front of everyone, better I do it now.” she states before taking off a little envelope from her handbag.

“This is your birthday gift.” Then she explains what's up about it, keeping the envelope close to him, expecting he takes it sooner and opens it.

“Two tickles of a flight, straight to Jeju Island for a break.” As he takes the envelope and slowly trying to open it, she couldn't help but leaks what's the surprise on it so then sees how his face changed to a shocked look.

“But I can’t go to a break now. I have a lot of stuff to do here.” He disaccords the idea of what they planned for him.

“They got your back and just want you to relax your mind only for a week.” She tries to comfort his worries and tells him to go and just have fun.

He looks at tickets in his hand. He knows he needs that to relax his mind for some days and only let his body and soul rest in peace to get enough energy to come back and work even harder. Indeed, he finished his promotions of his new album just some days ago and a great online concert after that, so he can accept it and just go. But when he just looks at that extra ticket, he feels bad even more that what it was. He doesn't want it. Better he chocks himself with working damn hard and pass out in late hours at night till tearing up every sunset in lonely holidays.

“You have to choose who you like to take with yourself for this trip.” She talks and makes it even more difficult to him. That much hard till he can't just deny that sad truth in his life.

“But I’m alone.” He says, mostly like a painful whimper and drops his head down. This view just aches Honey's heart. She doesn't want to see him like that.

“Any crush or someone you were into and you couldn’t tell it to her or even him to be with you?” She desperately tries to remind him what is not even exist in his life. And soon, when his expression even didn't change on a good way, she gives up. She feels guilty now because she sees herself as a bullying little girl at kindergarten who holds on a poor little boy and torturing him by the fact that he is all alone with no friends. She feels like a monster now.

“Ok! It’s up to you baby boy. You have your time till Friday night to find someone and stop being alone after all these years. Don’t you think?” She just says fast and gets up without waiting a second for his conceivable answer. But her words light his mind up this time. She's right. He's so sick to be alone, to wake up alone, to eat alone and even crying alone. Enough is enough to him.

He takes a deep breath and rise his head up to look her in the eyes, but it was like she was just that devil he thought about before and now she's all gone. Fully disappeared. But he doesn't want to give up. After all these times, he feels different around a girl and he can't deny his inner tendencies. His secret desires that used to scare him the hell out now feels not that bad and he knows it's all because of this fearless wild woman. He can't let all of this go so starts to search around between the crowd.

His friends are coming to him just by the time that they saw he gets lonely again. Almost disappointed in that thought he lost his chance to get a good girl in his birthday's night. Minhyuk climbs up to say some sarcastic words but Hoseok is faster. "Didn't you see where Honey goes?" He asks without even thinking twice and lets his friends confused. They also search around themselves to find her, but mostly they are curious why he is searching over her now after that long conversation between themselves? They want to know all about it.

"Does everything go well or ..." Hyongwon asks but he cuts his words off, his eyes moving between people faces one by one. "I'm fine. I'm about to leave and thank you for all of this but ..." He pauses at his words as his eyes catch her in front of the bar, ordering a drink for her terrible feels.

"I need to thank her too." He ends his sentence with some words which are meaning differently in this situation. Passing his friends so fast and almost running to the girl who is busy with choosing a heavy drink for herself.

She thanks the barman with a simple smile on his face which is gone almost when barman is turning around. She takes a deep breath and wants to spin around and see if he still looks upset or not, but when she just moves, almost jerk off with seeing him in only some inch distance with her face and body.

“Come with me.” He talks so speedy and she is not sure even if she hears him right with the loud music playing in the club.

“w-What?” She asks, looking like a lost little girl and completely eyes confused, do not to know where to focus. But he seems so serious and in rush.

“I know I look so rude and weird now but I think I want you to come with me.” He keeps himself down a bit and explains what he means. Now watching her with hope in his eyes to she accepts.

“So … I have to pack my things up.” She says confusedly. Not sure even what she's doing. Maybe it was what she waited for, but surely not like that. Anyway it looks cute so then why not?

“See you later.” He says with a fainted color smile on his lips. Probably thinking about he could save himself but also there's a voice in back of his head, saying terrifying words about how he can even control himself when he gets alone with this girl?

“Saturday morning on 9 AM.” She mentions date and time written on tickets. Low key saying that she spends a lot time to stare at those tickets wishing she be that lucky one who can stay with him on his unexpected vacation.

“Good night.” He says quickly as he sees his friends coming there. He was in pressure enough tonight from in and outside so better to run away now and let them to guess any dramatic things around what happened tonight.

“Yeah ... Good night.” She whispers, as watching his perfect back going out of her club, leaving her alone in shock and a bunch of questions which are coming to her and she doesn't know even how the fuck she supposes to tell them.

_____________________________________

Finally!!!!! I dare myself to upload it and there we go 😉

I hope you guys enjoy and don't care about errors lol 😆

Please let me know if you like that or not 🙏🏻🙈 sorry I'm so curious and excited for this fiction as it's my first one in English so ... Yeah just let me know 😅

Thank you guys 💕💕

[seasonsofeverlark]

Oktoberfest Effect

Author: @alliswell21​

Prompt: Town boys (drunk?) dare each other to venture into woods (Halloween night? [Oktoberfest]). Katniss saves Peeta (from peacekeepers? storm?) by pulling him into a cave for the night. (Drunk Peeta talks too much and is cuddly?) [submitted by @567inpanem​] 

Rating: Teen (for drunkenness)

Author’s Note: Thank you to @mandelion82 for lending me her beta services, and being a generally awesome cheerleader! Thank you @567inpanem for the prompt, I hope it brings you joy! Thank y’all for reading! 

Oktoberfest, originally from Munich, Germany, is a two week folkloric festival, celebrated between the third Sunday of September and the first Sunday of October. Copious amounts of beer get served worldwide to celebrate Oktoberfest…👀this fic doesn’t reflected the cultural richness of the festival and or what it represents!👀

Tags: In Panem AU; No Games AU; Not representative of Oktoberfest; Drunken Shenanigans; Thunder storms; Snarky!Everlark; Humor; Blink-and-you-Miss-it fluff. One Shot.

———————

Oktoberfest is one of my least favorite festivals in the small repertory of celebrations my District is allowed. 

It’s usually held in the beginning of October, after the first showers of Fall, and tends to last all day long, severely cutting into my hunting time in the woods, which comprises the bulk of my family’s livelihood. My mother is a healer, but people used to struggle to pay for her services back in the day, so she stopped charging anyone; people gave her what they could: rations, produce from their squalid gardens, old clothes and such. You’d think people would pay with coins, now that things have improved for common folks, but some habits die hard.

It’s probably the same reason we keep observing a holiday that’s real meaning has been lost to Panem since before the Dark Days; people just know that at some point, Oktoberfest was celebrated around this time, and people ate and drank ale by the bucketfuls, so that’s what they do today. 

By the same token, it’s the most popular festivity in District 12, since it’s the only day of the year in which drinking is sanctioned and even encouraged by the higher-ups of government. Trains come carrying ale, spiked ciders, and even hard liquor for the celebration. People like Ms. Ripper, who sells moonshine and white liquor in our black market, better known as The Hob, have free range to sell their wares openly, without suffering repercussions. 

The meek, dull denizens of District 12 drink the spirits by the gallons, just for the one day, and pass out in the most unseemly places around town, like savages. If something had become clear to me with the passing years, it’s that people tend to enjoy drunkenness to soothe their woes away, so it’s natural everyone embraces Oktoberfest.

But, as with everything, things aren’t as bleak as I tend to see them myself.

“Katniss!” My sister, Prim, calls breathlessly from the maypole circle, beckoning me over with one hand, while holding a bright, yellow ribbon in her other, “There still are a few ribbons left!” She shouts excitedly, her meaning plain: she wants me to join in the festivities.

Normally I’d shy away from any and all activities that would have me interacting directly with the townsfolk. It’s nothing personal against them, I’m just not used to being touched by anyone, except for my family, and weaving ribbons around the maypole practically ensures I’d be brushing up against any number of strangers …but, there are worse games to play, and I could never deny my sister anything, not even this. 

I make my way to Prim and reluctantly snatch up a pale blue ribbon from the ground. My sister’s smile is so bright I almost relax when the music starts, and the dancers take to moving in and out around the pole. 

It isn’t as bad as I was dreading it to be. The music is lively; the fiddler follows the dancers while the rest of the band plays on the makeshift stage a few feet away, and the pole is relatively short and moderately wide, so we make quick work of braiding a pretty pattern in one go. Also, people are at a respectable distance from one another, and most everyone feels as awkward around me as I feel around them, so they just give a wide berth when they pass me by.

Prim and I are laughing when the song comes to an end, and we take a minute to admire the pole’s multicolored design. 

There’s a line of smiling people waiting in the fringes to take the ribbons the opposite direction to unravel them and weave them together again. 

I pull Prim into a hug and kiss her blonde head, fondly. “Let’s give somebody else a turn, Little Duck.” Prim narrows her eyes just a smidge; she’s almost 16 and doesn’t appreciate the nickname as much anymore. “Let’s put some warm apple cider into you, yes?” 

Joy returns to her baby blues immediately. “Yes! We should go find Mother as well!” she says excitedly. 

“Let’s go then!” 

After finding our mother in the crowd, and haggling over three cups of cider and one bag of boiled peanuts, our mother suggests we go home early, before the party gets rowdy. 

An unfortunate byproduct of Oktoberfest with all the unchecked drinking is men get loud, bold and stupid. Better to clear out before that happens, because while crimes aren’t tolerated— under the influence or sober—people tend to get belligerent when alcohol is involved. 

President Snow died years ago, when I was Prim’s age. Many things changed drastically, like the abolishment of the Hunger Games, and a slightly better salary for miners, but the seemingly tolerant new government of Panem gives men a strange leave to criticize the Capitol while drunk…which technically, is still a crime in today’s Panem, just not as mortally dangerous anymore. Still, women try to haul their spouses home before they can say something incriminating and land themselves in prison.

Nothing can be done about the youngsters, though. 

With women trying to keep a leash and muzzle over the men, the teenagers have unhindered access to alcohol and close to no supervision; although spirits are supposedly only served to people 17 and older, I wouldn’t put it past the vendors to look the other way if a group of merchant kids pass a few extra coins across the table, when nobody is watching. 

If grown up men are loud, bold and stupid while drunk, teen and young adult men are even worse, and that’s without a gaggle of equally intoxicated girls egging them on.

This year— as in every Oktoberfest— the electric fence surrounding the district lays dormant and harmless, lest one of the hundreds of inebriated fools roaming the meadow fall into the wires and fry themselves upon accident.

Not that the Capitol cares if a few malnourished— probably discontented— miners fall dead during a district festival; people in 12 used to keel over from starvation all the time back under Snow’s regime, but those deaths were usually chalked up to any number of unrelated causes: pneumonia, heart weakness, black lung disease…anything, except starvation. But dying electrocuted on the very fence that’s supposed to keep us safe in our little district is unthinkable! The fence is there to keep dangerous beasts— and nutritious game alike— away from us.

District 12 remains that enduring jewel of Panem, where you can starve in safety! All we need is to drink the memory of our empty pantries away for another year, and everyone is happy. I sigh. At least they did away with the Hunger Games; now we have singing contests and trivia challenges playing on national television instead of the blood shed of innocent teenagers, which is certainly an improvement. Somehow it’s still not a fair bargain, but district folk will never complain about this particular trade; our children are safe, and we get to watch Capitol people make fools of themselves in front of everyone.

Mother, Prim and I make it home early enough to make a quick supper of roasted potatoes, salted fish and the last of the bakery bread I traded for this week. I make a mental note to bring down a couple squirrels to trade with the baker for more bread. The man is one of the few I can regularly count on to trade fairly with, so I always save him the best of my squirrels. 

By the time dinner is being cleared off the table, I can hear the murmur of families returning home from the meadow. A surge of nervous energy takes over me. I start bouncing my leg restlessly, peeking at the old clock hanging on the wall. 

“Are you going out again?” asks my mother. Her tone is light and her eyes focused on the heap of plates and forks she’s balancing in her hands. I know better than to believe she’s alright with me leaving again. 

“For a while,” I answer. 

“You could get stuck out there!” says Prim, clearly displeased. 

“I’ve been working on a shelter, just in case. I’ll be back before dawn if I can help it,” I say, brokering no arguments.

“Be careful,” Prim mumbles, her blue eyes pleading.

I stand up from my chair and plant a kiss on the crown of her blonde head. “I promise. Now, go make sure Lady is secured before I leave. I don’t want anyone getting any ideas seeing a goat loose out there.” Not that anyone would cross me knowingly, but people get a lot dumber while drunk. 

The sun set on the horizon long ago, but all my years sneaking around urge me to blend instantly with the river of dark-haired children trailing their dark-haired mothers and fathers all over The Seam. It certainly is an entertaining sight; the children are immensely happier than their parents, of course, bouncing and giggling, carrying in their spindly arms their Oktoberfest bounty of apples and freshly picked ears of corn stuffed into old burlap sacks, prizes given to them by the Capitol for every one of those silly games they played at the festival. At least they know supper won’t consist of tesserae bread tonight.

Reaching the fence will be trickier now that the meadow is crawling with blond merchants and peacekeepers patrolling the perimeter of the fence ‘for our safety’. A few miners remain, helping with the cleanup process to earn some extra money, but they are so few I can’t use our physical similarities to hide in plain sight. The merchants, meandering around the meadow, throwing nervous glances at the fence every so often, pretending they don’t care the thing is off, certainly hinders my ability to sneak around. 

I wasn’t the only person who ventured outside the fence by any means. Historically, people have snuck under the barbed wire links in the past to steal apples and berries, when the hunger pains were scarier than the bears and wild dogs roaming the woods; necessity is a great incentive, it either makes you very brave or very reckless…but the few merchants still hanging out here only linger ‘cause an alcohol-fueled thrill holds them captive. Tomorrow, when they’re home nursing a head-splitting hangover, they’ll go back to cowering at the sight of the fence. 

There’s a group of towheaded youngsters, singing obnoxiously, near the edge of the meadow. 

I roll my eyes and try to ignore them for the time being. Meanwhile, I skirt around the maypole, pretending I’m admiring the workers’ effort, pulling the pole out of the ground to haul it into storage until next year. It’s a massive effort, but all I can do is lament how now there’s gonna be a soft spot in the ground for a while there, even after they fill it back with dirt and rocks. 

I curse darkly under my breath when I startle at the sight of two peacekeepers passing by the merchant boys.

The singing stops while the townies nod politely at the albino buzzards. The boys stare at the peacekeepers until they disappear at a bend behind a big, tall retention wall where the fence stops into a jagged corner, and then the young merchants do something very peculiar…they start a round of ‘Row Your Boat’, holding up their fingers in some sort of countdown. Their voices are so shrill and out of tune, everyone around covers their ears and looks the opposite way.

I cock my head, studying the boys. They’re clearly intoxicated: red noses and ears, laughing at nonsense, and the biggest telltale, a bottle of white liquor passing around their misshapen circle. I realize, they’re not all teenagers. A few of them I recognize from my days in school, and I know for a fact two of them are married, and at least one of them has a child on the way already. 

I roll my eyes at their childish behavior. 

The peacekeepers appear again in the distance, and the singers stop their song abruptly. One of the older guys lifts his fingers up, showing all ten digits; he closes his fists quickly and opens them again, now showing seven fingers. They all giggle like lunatics, and I lose interest in them.

I round the cleaning crew closest to the fence, but suddenly, one of the townies stands up and starts calling at the top of his lungs, startling me.

“Hey, you! The girl with the braid!”

I whip around, because I’m 99% sure he’s talking to me! I’ve worn my dark, Seam hair in a single braid down my back for the last 8 years or so; it’s practical, really, to keep it that way. But that’s besides the point.

I wear my fiercest scowl on my face, and I get an uncomfortable jolt to the stomach when I realize I know this guy, the one waving at me while his companions guffaw around him, still intoning their childish ditty. 

Peeta Mellark, the baker’s youngest son, a boy I owe the biggest debt of my entire life, and for the first time since I can remember, he’s meeting my gaze without wavering. 

Debt or not, I have half a mind to stomp his way, grab him by the collar and shove him into the nearest tree in retaliation. My mouth opens to ask him what his problem is, when out of nowhere a pair of peacekeepers pop up from behind the retention wall, walking in the opposite direction of the previous set of guards. 

“Did you know it takes about a minute and a half to sing ‘Row Your Boat’ seventeen times?” Peeta Mellark chuckles, pink cheeks and nose, tilting his head towards the fence, and then his blue, sparkly eyes flit to the peacekeepers passing by; all the boys stop singing and nod at them in greeting. “Then, it takes like five minutes to sing something else, until we go back to Row Your Boat!” 

These guards must’ve crossed the other ones at some point while out of sight without me noticing. If I hadn’t been distracted by Peeta calling out to me, I would’ve run right into them on my way to the fence, if not flat out caught red-handed crossing into the woods, and how would I explain myself then?! Everyone in District 12 knows of my poaching proclivities, peacekeepers included, but that doesn’t mean I should go flaunting around my intention to trespass. Panem is still not completely free and whether people should have the right to escape into the woods for sustenance is still a murky topic…I’m not too keen on finding out if hunting is still a punishable crime by today’s parameters.

I turn my eyes back to Peeta, but he’s already singing and joking with his buddies, and although he seems to be invested in whatever shenanigans they’re doing, I’m not too sure he’s oblivious to me.  After all, he had to be watching me pretty closely to accurately guess I was close to being discovered. 

I huff. My debt to Peeta just increased, and I have no idea how to start paying him back for it. 

The peacekeepers are again out of sight; the merchants are singing again, and like before, people look away from their ruckus. There’s one boy with his fingers up…counting. 

Peeta’s watching me; he lifts 4 fingers offhandedly and turns to face his friends. 

Clever!

It’s a code, I gather. 

They’re timing the passing of the peacekeepers into the ‘blind spot’ with one song, then start a different one to predict when the keepers will be back on the retention wall.

I shake my head to clear off the hint of a smile taking over my face. The silly drunks aren’t as stupid as I thought, I guess. 

I make sure no one is looking my way; I also check the kid counting how many boats they’ve rowed, and leap closer to the spot I know there’s a loose link. I only have ten rows before the peacekeepers come back, so I make quick work out of the wires and slip to the other side fast. 

The drunk boys break into hoots and cheers once I’m in the woods, and despite myself, I look in their direction just to make sure nobody saw me scurrying out. I’m partially hidden by a tree, and should be safe now.

The cheering isn’t because I slipped out of the districteffectively; the boys are either harshly ruffling Peeta’s hair, or slapping him on the back. They’re all laughing and crowing something I can’t make out, but soon I see the glint of white uniforms out of the corner of my eyes, and hide deeper into the woods. 

I decide to check on my snares around here and head home right away. This was perhaps the worst entrance I’ve made into the woods, and too many know I’m out here as it is, but, if the townies are gonna act as a siren of sorts, better to use their system to my advantage. 

Then…I need to figure out how to finally speak to Peeta Mellark and start getting my ledger even with him. 

It’s completely dark by the time I reach my snares. I look at the sky and scowl. The stars are obscured, and the moon has a hazy ring around it. Clouds are rolling in too fast for my liking. Rain is coming, soon. So I make haste and run my fingers along the first wire I find. 

My snare wields two rabbits, and I bag them without resetting the traps. I figure one of these will be enough to hold my family over for a couple of days. I can make some coins out of the second rabbit, which should be enough until Oktoberfest has died down and business resumes as normal. It’s a good plan if I say so myself.

A peal of thunder breaks in the distance, and I grunt lowly. This night keeps getting worse by the minute; it’s good that I’m almost back to my entry point. I head back to the fence, where I can still hear the faint howls of laughter of the merchant boys. 

I’m 30 yards from the fence when another clap of thunder roars overhead, loud enough to reverberate in my bones; people beyond the fence shriek. I’ve only taken a step forward when lightning strikes, and I know the storm is hot on my heels. 

The chanting of the merchants is getting louder. I never thought I’d think this, but it’s a relief, knowing I can count on them to distract the patrols while I sneak back into the district. 

They’re egging and heckling each other like a bunch of rowdy hoodlums. 

“Go on! Ten coins says you won’t last a second!” 

“I say fifteen, if he brings back proof he was there!” 

Somebody belches loudly, making the rest giggle like school kids. 

I roll my eyes and try to concentrate on finding my loose wire in the distance. I’m only a few feet away from the fence, but it’s dark and windy. 

“Seeriouslee, though,” hiccups another, mispronouncing his words. “Gwhat should he…” hiccup, “bring?” Hiccup.

“Don’t know. A berry maybe,” 

“Or a bear bite!” cackles another. They all laugh boisterously. 

I wonder what they’re up to now. The fools! Don’t they know they should be running home for cover? The first raindrops are already falling. 

“Fine! Okay…I’ll do it! But I wanna see all that money now!” slurs a voice I recognize, because I heard it calling me less than twenty minutes ago. “Pay up!”

No! Not him! I think, feeling my stomach drop. Whatever it is they’re doing, doesn’t sound very smart. 

“Dis it?!” Peeta Mellark groans, “I’m taking all your money, so I can buy me a hen house! Dis not even ‘nough to buy me chicken feed!”

I hear grumbling nearby, and the clicking of metal, suspiciously similar to how coins sound falling on each other. I assume they’re shedding the rest of their money for Peeta to see. 

“‘Kay…‘Kay…better now. Okay. Imma go now. Hold me money, Rye…and don’t spend any of it! I counted it… it’s me money! Don’t steal it, or I tell Lavender you were smooching girls a week before you got married!” 

“Don’t you dare!”

“Don’t steal me money!”

“Fine!”

“Fine! And don’t tell father ‘bout dis either!”

Somebody yells, “Mellark, stop stalling!”

“Yeah! Get—“ hiccup, “on with it al—“ hiccup, “…ready!”

“Goin’, I’m goin’!” I hear a few murmurs.

I swear, Peeta Mellark! If you set foot in my woods, I’ll shoot you in the toes! 

I’m close enough to the fence to see a few lights flicking close by, but then another thunder drums, with a lightning to boot, and the rain droplets fall heavier. 

“Wait! White helmets!” hisses someone, and even I drop to the ground to hide. 

“Evenin,’ officers!” says Peeta. 

I can picture him in my mind’s eye, smiling the same way he used to in school when covering for one of his friends to the teachers. 

“Evening? It’s almost nine o’clock, boys!” says a woman. I’m not quite familiar with her voice, but I can surmise she’s one of the peacekeepers on patrol. “Curfew starts in 30 minutes, and a storm’s on its way. I suggest you all head to your houses.” 

“Yeah, we will finish pickin’ up our garbage and head right home, officer!” says Peeta, all polite and pleasant like. 

“Very well. You better clear out by the time we return, or we’ll have you spend the night in a cozy cell at the Justice Building,” says a gruff male voice, most likely the second peacekeeper. “Now, get on with the cleaning, gentlemen.” 

There’s a chorus of voices murmuring stuff like “Right away, sir!” and “Of course, officer.” A lot of movement and hushed conversations go on for a minute or so while I lay on my stomach like an idiot. 

I can only assume the peacekeepers are out of earshot when Peeta exclaims happily, “Aight! I’m goin’ in!” 

The others start fussing and protesting, talking over each other frantically: “You can’t go in!”, “Are you crazy?! You heard them, there’s a storm coming!”, “Stop being a damned hero, Mellark! You already showed us up, by speaking to Everdeen!” 

Peeta calls out, “Guys! Shut up! She’s the reason I wanna go in there! She ain’t back yet!” 

I frown. 

“Everdeen? Dude, she’s probably stalking a deer or somethin’…she’s fine!” says who I believe is his brother. 

“Well…but what if she needs help? Shouldn’t some’ne go get ‘er?” He sounds concerned and strangely hopeful. 

My stomach does a strange little flip at Peeta’s words, and then I have to shake my head to stop myself from being grateful for his concern. Outside of my family, Peeta Mellark seems to be the only person in this entire district who cares about me. 

“No! That girl’s half feral! All them wild things in the woods are probably more afraid of her than we are!” says Peeta’s brother. 

I find myself nodding in agreement, but scowling at the same time, because I’m not feral! I just hunt and enjoy the respect— bordering on fear— people have for me. 

It doesn’t matter, though! Right now I feel almost as silly as they sound, and I just want them to take Peeta home, so I can climb back into the district and go home myself.

“I’m still goin’ in!” I realize Peeta is looking for the spot I used to come into the woods, and I hear muttering and hissing trying to dissuade him from coming in, but he’s already pulling the wire the same way I did, and a moment later, he’s wiggling his broad frame under the fence like an inchworm rolling on salt. 

“No!” I huff under my breath, scrambling to get up, to push him back in the other direction, but then somebody is whispering harshly. 

“White helmets!” 

I’m not even surprised to hear Peeta’s so-called friends run away then. Coward merchants the lot of them!

A thunder booms above us, and I see Peeta struggling to pull through under the flash of the lightning that follows. It’s a miracle the peacekeepers haven’t seen him, splashing in the muddy pool forming rapidly under his body. 

“Ugh!” I finally find my feet and practically throw myself on top of his arms, to pull him in. 

Peeta shrieks, startled by my sudden appearance, so I slap a hand over his mouth to keep him quiet. 

“Hush! Or they’ll find us!” 

I pull him further out from under the wire. He seems to realize what I’m trying to do and relaxes his muscles, letting me guide him forward while propelling himself with the toe of his boots. 

There’s a bush just two feet away from us. I drag him with me on all fours and crouch behind it until the peacekeepers’ flashlights disappear. 

“Hi!” says Peeta.

“Shush!” 

“Sorry!” he whispers…loudly.

“Quiet!” I hiss, bringing a finger to my mouth, as if I was dealing with a toddler instead of a 20-year-old man. 

“‘Kay,” he responds, this time in an actual whisper. 

I still roll my eyes at him. 

Thunder and lightning and cold, stabbing rain fall from the sky unrelenting. 

“Listen, we can’t stay here too long; we need to crawl back into the district!” I tell him, peeking from behind our hiding spot to make sure we are alone. I can’t see very far ahead, but it’s obvious the meadow is empty now. 

“What?!” he calls loudly. 

“For goodness sakes!” I mutter in frustration. “We need to crawl back into the district, or we’re gonna drown out here!” I’m having to yell so he can hear me over the rain.

“Oh! O-kay!” he says, smiling beguilingly at me. “I came to get you!” he yells. 

I look at him, trying to convey all the annoyance I’m feeling towards him right now with just my facial expression, but I guess the moonlight is so minimal he can’t see me, because all he does is smile back at me.

“You’re welcome!” he yells after a second in a self-satisfied tone.

“For what?” I snap.

“For rescuing you, of course!” 

I stare at him, dumbfounded. “Rescuing— you…  what?!” I screech.

More thunder and lighting make it impossible to keep doing this where we are. And thanks to the storm, it’s too risky trying to crawl under the fence, too. Negotiating Peeta’s humongous body back under the railings in these conditions is just calling for trouble; we’ll either get found by the peacekeepers— if they’re still patrolling— or get hit by lightning; after all, the fence is meant to conduct electricity and fry whatever touches it. 

I’m lost in my head, thinking about our options at this point, when a bright flash cracks overhead, so strong, it makes everything look like it’s day time, and I fall back on my butt for how close Peeta’s face is to mine. 

“What are you doing?” I rasp.

“Wow! Has anyone ever told you, you have freckles over the bridge of your nose?” He asks, placing his two paw-like hands on my shoulders, pulling me back onto my haunches. “From close up, your face is as pretty as the night sky with all its coteslations!” 

“Hmm…no—nobody’s ever said…” I huff. “Come on. We can’t stay here.” I tell him, pulling him by the hem of his coat’s sleeve. “I think you meant ‘constellations’ by the way. Alcohol really messes up your speech, you know.” 

I think he says something, but I’m not sure, since the storm is swallowing up all the sounds around us. 

The going is slow, because we have to wait for lightning to illuminate our way, and once, I realized we were straying onto a different path from the place I have in mind. Plus, I have to keep trying to untangle myself from Peeta’s grasp, so I can feel around the way with my feet. Peeta talks too much…nonstop, and I think it’s mostly the alcohol talking, but ugh! Would it kill him to just be quiet for a second?!

He’s awfully clingy for such a big man. I mean, he’s grown a few inches since we were in school, and he used to be stocky and broad-shouldered, even as a teenager, on account of him being wrestling champion two years in a row, plus having to handle those heavy trays in the bakery and whatnot. 

I forgot where I was going with this?

Anyway, I hope the alcohol clears his system soon. He seems like an overgrown puppy at times, the way he trails after me and touches the end of my braid, which I guess he might be using as some kind of leash or rope to tether himself to me. Surprisingly, I don’t find it as annoying as I should. In fact, I find the warmth of his fingers… reassuring. 

“Stop!” I tell him, when I hear rustling nearby I know isn’t from the rain. 

A wild dog jumps in front of us, and I curse loudly. I should’ve grabbed my bow on our way out here, but I didn’t want Peeta to see my hiding spot; not that he’ll remember how to get to it, but he was able to find my loose chain in the fence, so…

I think the dog is coming after us. But before I can tell Peeta to run, he pulls me flush with his chest and somehow lifts me over his head like I weigh nothing. The dog is momentarily confused, and I take the chance to chuck one of my rabbits past it. The dumb animal looks at us curiously, but after a second, loses interest and goes for the easier, smaller prey.

I just got reminded of how strong Peeta is. 

“Thank you!” I call out when he lowers me back to his chest. “You can let go of me now. The dog’s gone, but there might be more around.” 

Peeta nods. His blue eyes are wide and alarmed, his cheeks, ruddy with booze just a few minutes ago, are drained of color. “Alright!” he gasps, clearly shaken.

I grab his arm and squeeze, leading him away from the spot. 

It’s times like these when I miss my old hunting partner, Gale Hawthorne; for starters, he would’ve had a bow on him…he would’ve shot and killed the dog. He would’ve had my back… but Peeta had my back this time, and he surely is no seasoned hunter, not even an outdoorsman, yet it was his quick thinking and sheer brute strength that saved my hide.

It’s also the reason Gale and I broke our partnership to begin with. Given the chance, he would’ve left Peeta stranded out here, instead of finding him shelter. But that’s his style, not mine, and Peeta has shown his worth twice tonight, inebriated as he is. 

I release a sigh of relief when I see the opening of a burrow on the side of a small hill. It’s not truly a cave; it’s much too shallow to be called that, but, I found it about a year ago, and have been carving it out little by little for these kinds of emergencies, when I need shelter on the run, and the concrete little shack by the lake is too far, and I want to stay close to the fence, anyway. 

“Oooh! Is this a cave? Is it abandoned? We ain’t gonna walk into some bear den or somethin’?” Peeta asks, bumping into my back when I stop to remove a few branches from the entrance of my little hiding spot. 

“Get in!” I command him, and he obeys at once. 

I take a few minutes to rearrange the branches at the mouth of the cave, just to keep the water from splashing inside, although we are soaked through our jackets. 

“Sit,” I tell him, bumping into him again when I turn to feel round the wall of the cave for my provisions. The little hollow is only 5 ft wide by 6 feet deep, so there isn’t much room to wiggle for two people even if we were both my size. 

Peeta has to hunch down as it is.

He’s quiet for the time being. My fingers touch the cool glass of the oil lamp I was feeling for, and right next to it, is a box of matches. I can finally breathe! 

I make quick work of the lamp, and we are finally in better shape than we were a moment ago. Peeta blinks owlishly at the lamp, and I can tell he’s surprised, but blinded by the sudden light. 

“Where are we?” Peeta asks in awe.

“It’s my emergency shelter,” I tell him, kicking a log from the back of the cave towards him. “Here, you don’t have to sit on the ground.” I tell him, watching him sitting almost directly in front of the entrance with his legs crossed.

“You have a shelter out here? I knew you were smart, but I didn’t know you were a genius!” 

My cheeks heat up for some reason. “Nah. It’s just common sense. Too many experiences out there without one. Whatever. Intelligence has nothing to do with this, really.” 

“So…do animals come in here?” he asks, turning his head around to study the place, not as nervously as before.

“No. It’s too small for a big animal’s den, and too big for a small critter’s burrow. It’s ‘me’ size because I’ve been digging it out little by little, and putting stuff in it for when I find myself in the same predicament we are in right now.” 

Peeta shifts to his knees and slowly stands up, hunching a smidge, ‘cause the cave ceiling is too low for him. He lumbers to the log I offered him earlier and sits on it heavily. 

“This place is great!” he states, looking at the crude shelving carved into the dirt where I keep the lamp, matches, a couple of cans of food I’ve agonized about leaving here because it feels like a waste, and things like spare arrowheads and fletchings; things that’d be useful in a pinch. 

I have a knife hidden inside the very log Peeta’s sitting on, but I’m not about to divulge that secret. It’s my last line of defense, and since I don’t have my bow on me, I feel safer knowing there’s at least one weapon in the cave I can count on. I need to bring a bow here at some point; I just haven’t found a good way to camouflage…yet.

“Thank you,” I say quietly. 

“Um, you can sit here,” says Peeta after a long moment passes in silence. “Plenty of room!” He motions to the log, scooting to free up some space.

It looks ridiculous, because there truly isn’t any room left on that log for me to sit. Peeta looks like a smushed rag-doll, sitting on a match box, and all the room he’s leaving next to him, is only big enough to accommodate a toothpick. 

“It’s okay,” I tell him, with a reluctant smile. “I’ll stand for now.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, biting his lip guiltily. 

“Yeah. Let me be a generous host.”

His face falls. “I’m sorry,” he rushes to say. “You wouldn’t have to be playing host in your lovely cave if it wasn’t for me. Sorry I was so stupid,” he says sheepishly, “I should’ve known you had it under control before I tried coming in after you.”

“Oh…it’s alright. It was…touching. All those things you said back there.” My cheeks are burning with embarrassment. 

“I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true,” he says, sounding almost sober. 

Another long minute goes by in silence. “Was that a wolf out there?” he asks suddenly. “I didn’t know what to do. I thought about kicking it, but I was afraid it would mangle up my leg, and then I’d get blood poisoned and since medicine is hard to come by, I probably would’ve lost my leg, and I’m not sure I’d be able to master a fake one…unless it was like a Capitol grade thing with robotic nerve connectors and the such… I read some man in District 3 figured out how to make prosthetics that you can control with a chip implanted in your brain!” 

I find myself laughing at his nonsense. And he seems to enjoy my laugh, because he keeps saying outrageous things, I can’t tell if he’s just making them up on the fly, or if he really read about them somewhere. 

I slide against the wall after a while, until I’m crouching close to the wet floor. Our clothes cling to our bodies, but most of the water has leaked off of us already, which is good, since I can’t light a fire inside the cave. 

“Are you hungry?” I ask him, interrupting his musings about how chewing gum is inherently evil, since we don’t have dentistry accessible in the districts. The boy really talks too much!

Peeta cranes his neck to glare at my game bag, which I recently placed by my feet. 

“What do you have there?” He asks, interested. 

“A rabbit. But we can’t eat that raw. We’d get sick with fever if we try. I wouldn’t recommend it,” I tell him. “But I have canned fruit we can share,” I offer. 

He makes an agreeing noise at the back of his throat. “I could eat.” 

“Fine. Um…close your eyes for a second. And don’t peek!” I chide. 

As with everything else I’ve commanded today, Peeta obeys without questioning, and soon I’m darting my hand into the end of the log, retrieving my knife. 

“Open your eyes,” I say. 

“Where did you get that from?!” he screeches, staring open-mouthed at my knife. 

“Secret compartment,” I deadpan.

“Well…I hope you’re not planning on stabbing me with that thing. That blade is bound to be dull now that you hacked into that can with it.”

“What does it matter if the blade’s dull?” I ask, exasperated.

“It’ll tear up my skin if you try stabbing me with it!” Peeta answers, arms moving in exaggerated arches,  “I much rather get a clean cut through, thank you very much!” 

What’s wrong with this boy?! He’s acting like discussing his own potential stabbing is an everyday thing.

“For your information, I’m pretty adept at sharpening things! And…Eww! Gross! Why would I wanna stab you?” I shudder. “I’m sorry, but I don’t do wounds, and I don’t do blood.” I pull a face, shivering.

“You kill things for a living!” He rolls his eyes in disbelief. “Why, the inside of your bag is covered in dried blood from those bunnies right now!”

“Animals! I hunt animals! I don’t do people’s blood and stuff…gross!”

“You’re kinda squeamish for such a lethal thing, aren’t ya?”

“Shut up and eat your pears!” I shove the open can into his hands, and he stares suspiciously at me for a minute before digging in.

Peeta moves over a few more inches, and the toothpick space widens to a Katniss’-rearside-size spot. This time, I take his offer gratefully and sit down next to him. He passes the can to me when he’s done. 

“You know…this is the first time we’ve done something normal together,” he says, pensive.

“It’s the first time we’ve done anything together, Peeta, period!” 

Peeta gasps, and there’s silence for a second. “You’re amazing!” He says, staring and blinking at me while I chew, as if I truly was some extraordinary sight to behold.

I scowl. “Why? Because I fed you canned food in a torrential storm in the middle of the woods?” I didn’t mean to sound so sarcastic. 

“Yeah…” he says dreamily, then scowls, then shakes his head. “Nah! You’re just…amazing! Even my mother says that you’re a survivor and the only thing District 12 has of worth…a better version of Haymitch Abernathy!”

Haymitch Abernathy is District 12’s one, and only living, Hunger Games Victor. He’s also a grumpy hermit, and a drunk, and the richest person in the district. Like me, he was born in the miners’ sector, nicknamed the Seam. People say Haymitch used to be smart as a whip, and a looker too, but now he’s just a paunchy, middle aged man, with anger issues. 

“Well, that’s not much of a compliment, is it?” I wrinkle my nose.

Peeta laughs, brushing his shoulder against mine…but that’s to be expected, he’s a giant after all, and the cave is practically a tall dresser. 

“No, I guess it’s not. But father always gushes about your squirrels. Says you never hit the pelt. You always shoot them right through the eye!” 

“Well, anyone can do that with enough practice.” I shrug.

Peeta snorts, and his knee presses against mine. “I wish I could do even half of the stuff you do. You’re an amazing hunter, and smart, and so pretty, and you can bring down deer, and the way you are with your sister…well, my big brothers have never been doting with me as you are with Primrose.” He sighs, looking at the flickering flame of the oil lamp. “You are something else!” 

“I— that’s not…” I’m frustrated and embarrassed, so I snap, “I wouldn’t have been able to do, or be, any of those things without your help, so…there!”

He scoots closer to me. His body is strangely warm, even under the layers of wet clothes. There’s bewilderment in his blue eyes, and for some reason, I can’t look away from the way his hair is all matted to his forehead. He looks boyish. Kinda cute. 

“What do you mean?” He asks in a small voice. 

I chuff. “Well, it was like today,” I start, leaning back, averting my eyes. He smells of spirits, but weirdly enough, I’m not repulsed by the scent. “You called out to me in the meadow, and I was about to rip you a new one, but then I realized you were trying to help me. Then, you save me from a wild dog, by doing something as simple as lifting me over your head, like I weighed nothing.” I feel small, all of eleven years old, and the fact that I’m wet to the bone and cold to the marrow doesn’t help my case. My voice comes out tiny, “You fed me when we were kids. I’ve never been able to even thank you for that!” I purse my lips to keep them from trembling, and blink some 28 times to keep from crying. 

Peeta sidles up against me. “Oh, Katniss,” he says low and reverently. I realize with a jolt, that it’s the first time he’s said my name. “You’re talking about the bread when we were kids?” His eyes glass over. “You can let that go now… after saving my ass tonight from the storm and the peacekeepers, I think you can count us even.” 

“How can you say that?” I demand, “You keep saving me, and I don’t know why?!”

“Really?” he asks, cocking his head sideways, scrunching his face, and shutting one eye like he can’t quite see me clearly with both eyes open; his tone isn’t malicious, just surprised. “You know why…at least, I think you should,” he says, shrugging and leaning closer. “I thought you’d notice how all of my friends were roasting me because I finally said something to you, and all I said was something lame about Row Your Boat.” He chuckles. “Fifteen years I’ve been trying to pluck up the courage to talk to you, and when I finally do, I call you ‘ Hey, girl with the braid’ like an idiot!” He practically leans into me.  

“Fifteen years?” I ask, bewildered. 

“Yeah…” he trails off, his ears turning cherry red. “I seem to have harbored a crush on you since the first day of school, when we were five.” He slumps back against the wall, and suddenly I wish he was still draped over me, warming me up. 

“Really?” I ask, because this story seems far-fetched. 

“Oh yes! It’s a whole thing! Me being a goner from the moment I heard you singing that very first day…remind me to tell you all the gory details some day.” 

“You betcha,” I say, amused. 

“I’m sorry I’m such a dork, but hey! At least imma buy me some chickens to sell eggs, and save, to buy my father’s bakery one day, and then I’m gonna ask you out on a date or somethin’.”

“Uh— what? Really?!” I chuckle. 

Peeta yawns. “Yeah, Imma take you somewhere nice for a picnic, like Victor’s Village or something, and I’m gonna bring good bread this time! None of that burnt, soggy crap I threw at you when we were kids, but real, freshly baked bread. With butter. And probably canned pears, ‘cause those are my favorites now!”

“Okay,” I tell him, not completely sure why I’m agreeing to this. After all, I decided a long time ago I was never getting married or having any children, at least, not as long as the Hunger Games loomed over me; I won’t be stringing Peeta along either. Gale accused me of doing just that once, which I don’t think I did? The accusation still stung. 

Right now, it feels nice to think I could go on a date with this crazy merchant boy; and who knows?! 

“Buttered bread sounds nice,” I say, sinking next to him. 

“This is nice!” Says Peeta, sleepily, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

“Yeah…it is,” I agree, realizing just how steady and warm his arms are, even encased in wet clothing.

“Will you go out on a picnic with me, then?” He asks hopefully, yawning again. His eyes drooping with sleep. 

“I think I might,” I tell him. I haven’t felt this safe in anyone’s embrace since my father died when I was 11 and I stopped trusting my mother. “I think I will,”

I’m beginning to think that the alcohol fumes clinging to Peeta have gone to my head, and left me as simple minded as all the intoxicated people back home, maybe I have it wrong, and Oktoberfest does have its charm, because despite myself, it feels right to indulge in that fantasy tonight. After all, Peeta was the only person in the district back then, that cared enough about me and my family dying of hunger, to do anything about it. He gave me bread he purposely burned for me, all he gained was a bruised eye from his mother, and my inability to repay his kindness, for his generous gesture. 

“Good! Just a heads up, though, I’ll prolly propose to you at that picnic, ” he says. His eyes are already closed, and I roll mine in response. “What you think my odds are of you saying yes?” He snuggles up to me, his head falls onto my shoulder. 

“The odds might be in your favor,” I tell him softly; I’m not so sure I say that to humor him, though. I am really tired, and sleeping in his arms does sound like a luxury right now, so I’m gonna blame it on the ‘Oktoberfest effect’ in the morning. Plead sleep depravation insanity or something. “Night, Peeta,”

He mumbles a response, which turns into a slow snore. 

I close my eyes, smiling. 

I’ll indulge in the drunken ramblings of Peeta tonight. Tomorrow is a new day, and if the saying is right, the sun shines brightest after a storm…maybe it’s time I bask in the rays. 

[ibelieveinharrystyles]

Chapter One: You Bring Me Home

Always Golden Masterlist

August 2019

Harry was lonely, isolated in fact. He was part of an industry full of creative and wonderful people, yet he was still alone. He lay in the bed in Anne’s spare room, staring at the blank ceiling, compared to the ceiling in his childhood bedroom it was lifeless, his old ceiling was covered in marks from all the times he had tried to catapult toys into  the air as a child, convinced they could fly. He really must have been alone if he was that deep in thought about his beloved ceiling. If he was completely honest he had no clue why he was back home, since the fallout with Ashley he had felt lost in London, opting to spend months in Japan and Italy. Half of him hoped he might accidentally bump into her, he knew full well it was Linda’s birthday, and he knew what Ashley was like, she wouldn’t want her mum spending her birthday alone. 

His lonely thoughts were interrupted by a light tap on the door, he shot up as his mum entered the room, “Morning love, I’ve got bacon for sandwiches, but no bread, you couldn’t run down to the bakery could you and grab a loaf?” Anne asked, her charm and grace echoing through the room.

“Of course mum, give me five and I’ll be on my way.” Harry hauled himself out of bed, grabbing the first pair of jeans and a yellow t-shirt from his suitcase. He slipped on a pair of vans and made his way downstairs and out into the early morning summer sun. As much as he loved the big cities he was lucky enough to travel to, Harry always found comfort in Holmes Chapel, maybe it was the people, maybe it was the pace of life, whatever it was, it put him at ease. The walk into the village wasn't a long one, just long enough to listen to a couple of the demos for his next album, something he was incredibly proud of.

“Barbara! Look who it is!” Harry stepped into the bakery, the familiar smell of fresh bread and cakes hitting him almost instantly, “How’ve you been Harry?” Claire asked from behind the counter.

“I’m good, just popped up to see mum for the weekend, she’s run out of bread, so I said I’d grab her a loaf.” Harry explained.

“Well Barbara’s just unpacking some, I’ll see if she has any of Anne’s favourites.” Claire disappeared into the backroom, leaving Harry with no one but the massive poster of teenage him for company. 

“Mummy can I get a rainbow donut?” A young voice asked as the door to the bakery swung open, not wanting to get in anyone’s way, Harry stepped back staring at the reply Gemma had sent him about what they were getting Anne for her birthday.

“I don’t think they do those here poppet, I think they’re a London thing.” Harry’s heart jumped, he looked up at the woman and her daughter stood looking at the cake counter, it was her, it was Ashley. She looked different, her once brunette hair now had a golden haze to it, and she had a different glow about her. “What do you want then monkey? The gingerbread man or the pink cupcake?” Harry admired the sweet interaction, not wanting to interrupt or cause a scene.

“Pink cake please mummy, and can we get one for Nanny’s birthday?” Harry watched in awe, the little baby he had once cradled in his arms was now an adorable little lady, the spitting image of her mum.

“Ashley! It’s wonderful to see you!” Claire chimed as she returned with Harry’s bread, “How long are you up here for?” 

“We’re heading home tomorrow morning,” Ashley glanced at Claire, who was looking straight past her at Harry who stood awkwardly at the back of the shop, with no clue how to handle the situation. She turned to see what Claire was looking at, the man who she hadn’t seen she stormed away from him in the middle of Hammersmith. 

She wavered on her feet, he looked well, he had clearly been working out more since the last time she saw him, his shoulders were broader. His hair was tousled in its usual messy yet styled way, as always he was exceptionally dressed, leaving Ashley feeling very underdressed in her jeans and Live Aid t-shirt. “Long time no see.” Harry whispered, struggling to find words to end the awkward silence.

“There’s a reason for that,” Ashley replied bitterly, handing Claire the money and taking the cakes from the counter, “And you bloody well know why.” She took her daughter’s hand and pulled her from the bakery, the pair striding back to the car where Will sat waiting. 

“Who was that man mummy?” Daisy asked as Ashley opened the car door.

“No one darling, no one you need to worry about.”

“What was that all about?” Claire asked, handing Harry his loaf of bread.

“I was an idiot a while back, I don’t think she’s forgiven me, and frankly I can’t blame her.” Harry explained.

“You two were great together, thicker than thieves, I remember when you both got your saturday jobs here. Dynamic duo we called you.” Claire smiled, she was right, Harry had fond memories of washing up beside Ashley, singing Shania Twain and Joni Mitchell songs as they made their way through a mountain of dirty trays and plates.

“Clearly we’re just not the same people we used to be.” Harry replied, handing Claire a five pound note as she passed him the fresh loaf, “Have a lovely day Claire, keep the change.”

“Daisy, sit still please,” Ashley sighed, it was a cool summer evening and she was sitting in the passenger seat of Will’s broken down car. They were meant to be taking Linda out for her birthday, but Will’s car had decided to throw a spanner in the works. Daisy, like any other three year old was grizzly, and getting restless. “Will, for christ sake just call the breakdown people.” Ashley huffed as her boyfriend stood with the bonnet up trying to work out what was wrong with the car. 

“What do you think I’ve done?” Will sighed, “They said it’ll be a two hour wait.” 

“Brilliant, bloody brilliant. Sorry about this mum, I had hoped we’d be there soon, but who knows at this point.” 

After another half an hour, Will was still adamant he knew what to do, Daisy had been through all sorts of tantrums. Just as Ashley was about to give up another vehicle pulled up beside them, expecting it to be the breakdown service, Will put the bonnet down to see the headlights didn’t belong to a van, but rather a large Audi pulled up instead. The driver wound down the window as Will approached, “Do you need any help?” The man in the car asked.

“Not sure how much you can do for me mate, think this one is passed it.” Will explained.

“In that case can I give you a lift somewhere?” He asked.

“Are you sure? there’s four of us, we’re on the way to dinner.” Will explained.

“It’s not a problem, honestly.”

“Cheers mate, I’ll let my girlfriend know, I’m Will by the way.” He smiled.

“Harry.” The audi driver smiled.

Will returned to his car, “This guy’s going to give us a lift, said he’ll drop us in town.” he explained to Ashley who was getting fed up with waiting.

“Perfect!” she chimed, climbing out of the car, she took Daisy out of the back to get her into the new car. As she opened the back door, the driver turned to face her, offering a warm smile. Talk about convenient, the one person she had hoped to avoid was going to drive her and her family to dinner. 

The car ride was almost silent, apart from Daisy talking about all sorts of nonsense. Eventually Will managed to put two and two together, realising who Harry actually was. They pulled up outside the restaurant and Linda turned to Harry, “Thank you so much for that Harry love, I owe you for that.” 

“It’s not a problem Linda, honestly, I was coming this way anyway.” Harry assured her.

“Why don’t you join us?” Linda smiled, this was all Ashley needed.

“I wouldn’t want to intrude, honestly.” Harry replied.

“I’m sure Harry’s a busy man.” Will muttered bitterly from the back seat.

“Harry it’s my birthday, and I want to say thank you, you’re joining us.” Linda insisted.

Dinner was awkward to say the least, the waiter had just come to collect their empty dinner plates, and Ashley couldn’t help but wait for it to be over. Daisy was transfixed on Harry, seeing as she couldn’t remember him, he was far more new and exciting than anyone else sat around that table. Harry sat beside Linda, who was doing her very best to keep the conversation civil. “So Harry, when are we getting new music? Ash got me a record player for my birthday and I’m itching to buy some records for it.” Linda told him.

“I’m hoping, if everything goes to plan, to have it out by the end of the year.” 

“Sounds wonderful Harry, I have missed you awfully,” Linda smiled, to her Harry was like the son she never had, she adored him completely, so when a wedge was driven between Harry and Ashley, she was heartbroken to say the least, Linda noticed the stale atmosphere, and decided to remove herself from the situation, “Tell you what Daisy, shall we go and see if we can find the puddings?” Linda asked, taking Daisy’s hand and leading her over to the bar.

“She’s grown up a lot hasn’t she?” Harry said, gesturing towards Daisy, in an attempt to make some sort of conversation.

“Yeah, she starts nursery next month,” Ashley smiled gently, appreciating Harry’’s desire to keep things civil.

“I mean you’d know that, if you’d been around for the past two years.” Will told him sternly, Ashley hadn’t ever seen Will like that before, maybe it was jealousy, maybe it was something else. He had a vague idea of the fallout between Harry and Ashley, and he knew about their history.

“Will, leave it out.” Ashley replied, trying not to cause a scene, knowing pictures of Harry would end up plastered all over tomorrow's news. 

“Well it’s not like he’s been there to see her grow up is it?” Will chimed in again.

“And I suppose you have?” Harry replied, “I supported Ashley and Daisy as much as I possibly could in her first year.” 

“Throwing money at a problem doesn’t make it go away.” Will answered back.

“I hold my hands up, I spent a fair amount of money on Ashley and Daisy, but one thing that never changed, is the love I have for them both, I treated Daisy like she was my own daughter and I would sure as hell do it again.” Ashley was taken aback by Harry’s little speech, she didn’t expect Harry to be so honest about where he went wrong.

“I appreciate the sentiment, but they have me now.” Will told him bluntly.

“You’re right, they do. This was a bad idea,” Harry stood up, taking his wallet from the pocket of his trousers, “Take this for the meal, I’ve cost you enough trouble.”

“We don’t need your money.” Will replied.

“I know you don’t, I know how much Ash earns, but I want to treat my friend, so that's what I’m doing, have a lovely evening.” Harry placed the wad of cash on the table before turning to leave. Ashley let out a sigh as he left the restaurant, rolling her eyes at Will.

“What?” Will asked.

“You just couldn’t help yourself could you?” Ashley replied.

“Hang on a minute, last thing you told me, you said you never wanted to see the face of that jumped up egotistical walking gucci campaign ever again.”

“Those are your words, not mine.” Ashley told him forcefully.

“I’m not wrong though am I? He used you and when he got bored you were hung out to dry, you’re better off out of it.” Will said sternly, taking a sip of his beer.

It’s more complicated than that Will, and I’m afraid it always will be.”

[butterflies-dragons]

Hey! I want to ask your opinion on Jon ygritte relationship and it's contrast with jonsa. I've seen jongritte wrt to jonerys but I want to know your opinions on jongritte wrt to jonsa as a foil n parallel.

Hello Anon,

Let’s talk about Ygritte then...

Ygritte:

Ygritte was a mixture of the Stark Sisters.  

According to Jon: “she can kiss a man (Sansa’s romantic nature) or slit his throat (Arya’s killer abilities)” 

“And maybe her eyes [...] but they were a pretty blue-grey color”.  Blue (Sansa) & Grey (Arya).

Ygritte has skinny legs, was short for her age, and never brushed her hair, similar to Arya.  But Ygritte was a redhead, described like ‘kissed by fire’, similar to the Tully auburn of Sansa’s hair that is also described by Arya like ‘fire’: “Robb and Sansa and Bran and even little Rickon all took after the Tullys, with easy smiles and fire in their hair.”   

According to Jon, Ygritte is fierce, stubborn, and wild, similar to Arya with her touch of the wolf blood.  But Ygritte also can sing like Sansa.

Ygritte is a spearwife, a fierce killer, a warrior woman, which reminds us of Arya’s Needle, her training to be a faceless man, and the list of people she wants to kill.  But Ygritte also likes songs and stories and cries with sad and beautiful songs, like Sansa.

Who else was a mixture of the Stark Sisters? Lyanna Stark, Jon’s mother.  But this is another subject.      

Jon was not instantly attracted to Ygritte, but with time he started to have feeling for her, feelings that are linked with Ygritte’s similarities with Sansa:  

The wildlings seemed to think Ygritte a great beauty because of her hair; red hair was rare among the free folk, and those who had it were said to be kissed by fire, which was supposed to be lucky. Lucky it might be, and red it certainly was, but Ygritte's hair was such a tangle that Jon was tempted to ask her if she only brushed it at the changing of the seasons.

At a lord's court the girl would never have been considered anything but common, he knew. She had a round peasant face, a pug nose, and slightly crooked teeth, and her eyes were too far apart. Jon had noticed all that the first time he'd seen her, when his dirk had been at her throat. Lately, though, he was noticing some other things. When she grinned, the crooked teeth didn't seem to matter. And maybe her eyes were too far apart, but they were a pretty blue-grey color, and lively as any eyes he knew. Sometimes she sang in a low husky voice that stirred him. And sometimes by the cookfire when she sat hugging her knees with the flames waking echoes in her red hair, and looked at him, just smiling . . . well, that stirred some things as well.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon II

Ygritte’s singing and the shades of her red hair near the flames.  Jon is such a romantic.

Ygritte’s hair “by the cookfire [...] with the flames waking echoes in her red hair”, reminds me of this passage about Sansa’s hair:  

“She had auburn hair, […] the red in it would catch the light of the torches and shine like copper.”

—A Clash of Kings - Catelyn VII

And guess what turns Jon off about Ygritte?  That she is a cold blood killer: 

"I see no free folk. I see a crow and a crow wife."

"I'm no crow wife!" Ygritte snatched her knife from its sheath. Three quick strides, and she yanked the old man's head back by the hair and opened his throat from ear to ear. Even in death, the man did not cry out. "You know nothing, Jon Snow!" she shouted at him, and flung the bloody blade at his feet.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon V

"Who is Ygritte?" Donal Noye asked pointedly.

"A woman of the free folk." How could he explain Ygritte to them? [. . .] she's young, only a girl, in truth, wild, but she . . ." She killed an old man for building a fire. 

—A Storm of Swords - Jon VI

Ygritte was much in his thoughts as well. He remembered the smell of her hair, the warmth of her body . . . and the look on her face as she slit the old man's throat. 

—A Storm of Swords - Jon VI

Very telling.... 

I usually call Ygritte, “Jon’s Joffrey”.  Both Jon and Sansa accommodated Ygritte and Joffrey in their minds as a coping mechanism, because they both knew that their love interests liked killing too much, something that turn them off:

“Who is Ygritte?” Donal Noye asked pointedly.

“A woman of the free folk.” How could he explain Ygritte to them? She’s warm and smart and funny and she can kiss a man or slit his throat. “She’s with Styr, but she’s not … she’s young, only a girl, in truth, wild, but she …” She killed an old man for building a fire. His tongue felt thick and clumsy. The milk of the poppy was clouding his wits. “I broke my vows with her. I never meant to, but …” It was wrong. Wrong to love her, wrong to leave her … “I wasn’t strong enough. The Halfhand commanded me, ride with them, watch, I must not balk, I …” His head felt as if it were packed with wet wool. 

—A Storm of Swords - Jon VI

Look how Jon is having a discussion with himself in his mind: Jon 1: Ygritte was warm, smart, funny, young, only a girl....  Jon 2: But she was a cold blood killer, man!  She shot several arrows at us, she tried to kill us!  And remember when she blackmailed us to have sex with her? WTF dude? 

This is exactly what Sansa was doing here:

“I had a dream that Joffrey would be the one to take the white hart,” she said. It had been more of a wish, actually, but it sounded better to call it a dream. Everyone knew that dreams were prophetic. White harts were supposed to be very rare and magical, and in her heart she knew her gallant prince was worthier than his drunken father.

“A dream? Truly? Did Prince Joffrey just go up to it and touch it with his bare hand and do it no harm?”

“No,” Sansa said. “He shot it with a golden arrow and brought it back for me.” In the songs, the knights never killed magical beasts, they just went up to them and touched them and did them no harm, but she knew Joffrey liked hunting, especially the killing part. Only animals, though. Sansa was certain her prince had no part in murdering Jory and those other poor men; that had been his wicked uncle, the Kingslayer. She knew her father was still angry about that, but it wasn’t fair to blame Joff. That would be like blaming her for something that Arya had done.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa III

After a time living in Kings Landing and knowing her betrothed a bit better, Sansa knew that Joffrey was not true knight material; deep down she knew about his killing/harming tendencies, yet she tried to accommodate Joff as someone that, at least, would never harm/kill innocent people.  

As I said before, Jon started having feelings for Ygritte, but she couldn’t wait to have him.  She blackmailed him to have sex, and Jon being the horny teenager that he was, at the prospect to be killed by the wildling versus having sex with a girl that he started to like, he chose the sex, of course.  Such a strong basis for romance...   

Women & Jon Snow:

How many times have we all heard that Jon loves warrior women and dislikes or even hates ladies?  This is not true tho...

These wrong assumptions are based in Jon’s interactions with the following women:

Ygritte, a spearwife, a warrior woman, his first and only lover.

Arya, his favorite and beloved sister, Jon himself gave her a sword, Needle.  Needle was named because of Sansa tho... Ygritte reminded Jon of Arya.

Val, “the wildling princess”.  Jon considers Val very physically attractive, he decided that she was a “warrior princess”.  But sorry, let me tell you that GRRM himself has said that Val is not a warrior woman.

Lady Alys Karstark, because she reminds Jon of Arya and she flirted with him.  She remembered them dancing in the past and invited him to dance again during her wedding.  Dancing is something very ladylike tho, just saying...

Arya

Back in 2016, a person asked GRRM about the possibility of a romance between Jon and Arya, pointing out the similarities between Ygritte and Arya, this is what he said:

“My con friend asked about the Jon/Arya relationship again and brought her (impressive) Game book that had all of her references marked out with little flags. She brought up the Ygritte connections to Arya that Jon saw in her. George did not directly answer yes or no if there would be anything romantic between the two.”

“George did say, despite what readers see as clues to a romantic relationship between Jon/Arya in the books themselves, he did not confirm this so easily but inferred that what Jon saw in Ygritte was a comfort level of femininity. <<<  She and I obviously discussed these comments after the meeting and this was the general feeling.”

“My con friend was referring to George explaining Jon’s perception: GRRM replied, “You know, I don’t think it’s a reference for that [for romance]. It’s a reference to a certain physical type, and  a certain indication of what Jon finds admirable. It’s like someone who reminds you of, you know… Other people might be put off by this, you know, hair that looks like small rodents have been living in there. It doesn’t put him off because he is used to that.” 

[Source 1] [Source 2] [Source 3]

So, as you can see, these links between Jon’s favorite sister and Jon’s first lover, according to the author himself, mean: 

“Comfort level of femininity”, 

“Jon is used to messy hair” 

“Not reference for romance”.

Not reference for romance indeed...  

Here you can read more about my opinion regarding the possibility of a romantic relationship between Jon and Arya: [x] [x] [x]

Val

Repeat after me: Val is not a warrior woman. Again: Val is not a warrior woman.  One more time: Val is not a warrior woman. If you don’t believe me, then read this:

However, in my own defense, I should note that Dalla was not a “warrior woman” per se. She was from a warrior culture, yes; one that gave women the right, but not the obligation, to be fighters. Ygritte was a warrior woman, as was (most conspicuously) the fearsome Harma Dogshead. Dalla and Val were not.

[Source]  

But you may say, ¿What about the “the warrior princess and the willowy creature that only brushes her hair” quote?

Well, as GRRM has stated many times, all his POVS are “Unreliable Narrators”.  Being from a “warrior culture” doesn’t make you automatically a “warrior woman”.  But here is Jon Snow “deciding” that Val was a “warrior princess”. Once again, the contrast, the dichotomy in one single person: ¿A warrior like Arya, a princess like Sansa?  Not that Arya has ever fought in a war, but you get my point.  And Sansa was created following the princess archetype.  

I will show you one of my favorite Jon’s passages that will serve us to read “the warrior princess and the willowy creature that only brushes her hair” line with a better and more revealing light:

I call this passage the “Jon -It’s nothing special- Snow”.  Or as we say in Spanish when we can’t get what we really want: “Al cabo que ni quería”, that can be translated as “I didn't even want it anyway”.  Let’s see:   

"Oh, I learn things everywhere I go." The little man gestured up at the Wall with a gnarled black walking stick. "As I was saying … why is it that when one man builds a wall, the next man immediately needs to know what's on the other side?" He cocked his head and looked at Jon with his curious mismatched eyes. "You do want to know what's on the other side, don't you?"

"It's nothing special," Jon said. He wanted to ride with Benjen Stark on his rangings, deep into the mysteries of the haunted forest, wanted to fight Mance Rayder's wildlings and ward the realm against the Others, but it was better not to speak of the things you wanted. "The rangers say it's just woods and mountains and frozen lakes, with lots of snow and ice."

—A Game of Thrones - Jon III

I mean... COME ON!  This is one of the most telling passages to know, to really know Jon’s true nature, and it’s very, very similar to the quote about “the warrior princess and the willowy creature that only brushes her hair”:   

They are all convinced she is a princess. Val looked the part and rode as if she had been born on horseback. A warrior princess, he decided, not some willowy creature who sits up in a tower, brushing her hair and waiting for some knight to rescue her. 

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon XI

“Some willowy creature who sits up in a tower, brushing her hair and waiting for some knight to rescue her.”  Nah, it’s nothing special, I didn’t even want it anyway, not for me, no.

"It's nothing special," Jon said. He wanted to ride with Benjen Stark on his rangings, deep into the mysteries of the haunted forest, wanted to fight Mance Rayder's wildlings and ward the realm against the Others, but it was better not to speak of the things you wanted. "The rangers say it's just woods and mountains and frozen lakes, with lots of snow and ice."

Do I have to say more???

Actually, yes, I have.

Jon Snow does really want a lady.  Jon Snow does really want to be a knight and rescue a maiden.  Jon Snow does really want a lady to love and be loved back by her.  Here some evidence:

Jon Snow wished that his mother were a highborn lady: “Not my mother, Jon thought stubbornly. He knew nothing of his mother; Eddard Stark would not talk of her. Yet he dreamed of her at times, so often that he could almost see her face. In his dreams, she was beautiful, and highborn, and her eyes were kind.”

Jon Snow wanted to be a hero like the Prince Aemon Dragonknight.  The same Prince Aemon that jousted in a tourney, won it, and crowned his sister and lady love “Queen of Love and Beauty”, something that is straight out from the courtly love book: “The Dragonknight once won a tourney as the Knight of Tears, so he could name his sister the queen of love and beauty in place of the king's mistress”.    

Jon Snow tried to comfort Gilly with courtesy: "Gilly, he called me. For the gillyflower."  "That's pretty." He remembered Sansa telling him once that he should say that whenever a lady told him her name. He could not help the girl, but perhaps the courtesy would please her”. 

Jon Snow put Ghost between Ygritte and him and remembers that knights put their swords between their ladies and themselves, something that is straight out from the courtly love book: “After that he had taken to using Ghost to keep her away. Old Nan used to tell stories about knights and their ladies who would sleep in a single bed with a blade between them for honor's sake, but he thought this must be the first time where a direwolf took the place of the sword”.

Jon Snow imagined romancing Ygritte as if she were a lady: “If I could show her Winterfell . . . give her a flower from the glass gardens, feast her in the Great Hall, and show her the stone kings on their thrones. We could bathe in the hot pools, and love beneath the heart tree while the old gods watched over us”.

Jon Snow wished for a domestic life in Winterfell, with his wife and children: I would need to steal her if I wanted her love, but she might give me children. I might someday hold a son of my own blood in my arms. [...] I could name him Robb. Val would want to keep her sister's son, but we could foster him at Winterfell, and Gilly's boy as well. [...] Mance's son and Craster's would grow up brothers, as I once did with Robb. He wanted it, Jon knew then. He wanted it as much as he had ever wanted anything. I have always wanted it, he thought, guiltily”. 

Jon is a romantic that called his mare “sweet lady”.

Jon Snow closer friends in the Night’s Watch are Samwell Tarly and satin, they are literally male!Sansas. 

Jon remembers fondly Sansa’s more feminine and ladylike traits: her romantic nature, her courtesies, her singing. 

It’s also worth to mention that, despite Val’s beauty and physical attractiveness, Jon Snow, once again, appreciates her being maternal and singing to Gilly’s son, but was turned off by Val saying she would kill Princess Shireen:  

"I have heard you singing to him."

"I was singing to myself. Am I to blame if he listens?" A faint smile brushed her lips. "It makes him laugh. Oh, very well. He is a sweet little monster."

"Monster?"

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon VIII

Once outside and well away from the queen's men, Val gave vent to her wroth. "You lied about her beard. That one has more hair on her chin than I have between my legs. And the daughter … her face …"

"Greyscale."

"The grey death is what we call it."

"It is not always mortal in children."

"North of the Wall it is. Hemlock is a sure cure, but a pillow or a blade will work as well. If I had given birth to that poor child, I would have given her the gift of mercy long ago."

This was a Val that Jon had never seen before. "Princess Shireen is the queen's only child."

"I pity both of them. The child is not clean."

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon XI

Wait a minute! Val was “singing to herself” like Jon’s memory of Sansa “singing to herself” while brushing out Lady’s coat???

Where did Jon get this idea of “some willowy creature that only brushes her hair” from???  It could be from his half sister Sansa, a literal princess, now trapped in a tower, that always brushed her hair and even brushed out her direwolf’s fur???

“She had brushed out her long auburn hair until it shone” —Sansa

“Her thick auburn hair had been brushed until it shone.” —Eddard

I often sent away her maid so I could brush her hair myself. —Catelyn

He thought [...] Of Sansa, brushing out Lady's coat and singing to herself. —Jon

And I also suspect that when Jon said this about Val: 

Then Ghost emerged from between two trees, with Val beside him.

They look as though they belong together. Val was clad all in white; white woolen breeches tucked into high boots of bleached white leather, white bearskin cloak pinned at the shoulder with a carved weirwood face, white tunic with bone fastenings. Her breath was white as well … but her eyes were blue, her long braid the color of dark honey, her cheeks flushed red from the cold. It had been a long while since Jon Snow had seen a sight so lovely. 

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon XI

He was remembering another pretty girl, princess like, next to a direwolf, looking as though they belong together.

A young beautiful girl, that everyone considers a princess, next to a direwolf???   

Val is a beautiful young woman, Sansa is a beautiful young maiden. 

Val has long blonde hair the color of dark honey which she wears in a braid. Val actually take care of her hair, enough to braid it, like Sansa that always brushes it. And if you google “dark honey” hair color you will find a variety of reddish brown (auburn) and reddish blonde hair colors.    

Val has high sharp cheekbones, like Sansa. 

Val’s eyes are pale grey or blue.  Again the grey/blue eyes pattern...  

Val is slender with a full bosom, like Sansa.

So?

Then Ghost emerged from between two trees, with Val beside him. [...] It had been a long while since Jon Snow had seen a sight so lovely. 

Of Sansa, brushing out Lady's coat and singing to herself.  

Think about it!

Alys

You may have heard about how Alys Karstark reminds Jon of Arya.  She was the girl of Melissandre’s vision, right? No? Melissandre was wrong? Really?Anyway, this is another subject, for another time.  The thing is that Jon was really hoping that the “Grey Girl” was Arya.  He was desperate to have Arya safe and away from the Boltons.  And once again, look at Alys Karstark’s description: 

Alys is a tall, like Sansa, but skinny, like Arya.

Alys has brown hair, like Arya, but wears it into a braid, so she cares about her hair, like Sansa.  

Alys has a long face, but blue-grey eyes.  Blue like Sansa, and Grey like Arya. This pattern again? George, I need some explanations. What are you doing?  

And also all these connections with Sansa:

Alys is a lady, a maiden, and she asked Jon his protection:  “You are my only hope, Lord Snow. In your father's name, I beg you. Protect me”.   She sounds like a willowy creature in need to be rescue by some knight, right?

Alys remembered dancing with a sullen Jon Snow when she visited Winterfell in the past.  Alys invited Jon Snow to dance again during her wedding.

Alys’ wedding happened in a very similar way to Sansa’s dream wedding: ”It was not supposed to be this way. She had dreamed of her wedding a thousand times, and always she had pictured how her betrothed would stand behind her tall and strong, sweep the cloak of his protection over her shoulders, and tenderly kiss her cheek as he leaned forward to fasten the clasp”. —A Storm of Swords - Sansa III & “The Magnar all but ripped the maiden’s cloak from Alys’s shoulders, but when he fastened her bride’s cloak about her he was almost tender. As he leaned down to kiss her cheek, their breath mingled”. —A Dance with Dragons - Jon X.

A northern maid and a wildling warrior, bound together by the Lord of Light.  A northern maid like Sansa: “The northern girl. Winterfell's daughter”.  A wildling warrior like Jon: “I see what you are, Snow. Half a wolf and half a wildling.”

There is much more to say about Women & Jon Snow, but I will stop here.  There are more topics to explore for this answer.

This is too long already, so I need to make a cut. 

Parallels & Contrasts:

As I said this post is already too long, so I will summarize with the help of my friends.  Let’s see:

Some great findings by my friend @shieldofrohan​ in this post: JON X SANSA BOOK HINTS- IN ORDER:

Sansa is the blue flower that bloomed from the North

Ygritte tells about the song of Bael the Bard and the Winterfell’s Rose in ACOK; Jon VI

In the story the blue roses of Winterfell just bloom and they represent a love between King Beyond the Wall and Winterfell’s maiden heir

Next chapter is Sansa (ACOK; Sansa IV) and she flowers for the first time, next chapter is Jon again. (Jon-Sansa-Jon)

Bael the Bard and Winterfell’s Blue Rose

He meets with Ygritte

So after the introduction of his future love interest comes a Sansa chapter. 

She tells him the story of a song about the love between King Beyond the Wall and Winterfell’s maiden lady heir.

Jon-Ygritte meeting // Sandor-Sansa last scene

Jon meets with Ygritte in ACOK; Jon VI   

Sansa sees Sandor for the last time in ACOK; Sansa VII

Jon has grey eyes // Sandor has grey eyes

Ygritte has red hair // Sansa has red hair

Jon // Sandor puts a knife to her throat

Ygritte tells him a song // Sansa sings for him

Jon-Ygritte last scene // Sandor-Sansa last scene 

 Sansa-Sandor last scene ACOK; Sansa VII // Jon-Ygritte last scene ASOS; Jon VII

Ygritte cups Jon’s cheek // Sansa cups Sandor’s cheek

Ygritte // Sandor says her/his catchphrase:

You know nothing, Jon Snow // Littlebird one last time and dies // leaves.

The men didn’t touch redhead girls but girls say they did

Jon didn’t touch Ygritte but Ygritte lies that he did and Sansa believes that Sandor kissed her in ACOK; Sansa VII. But he didn’t

Sansa remembers UNKISS after a Jon chapter.

Jon-Ygritte // Tyrion-Sansa

Jon beds Ygritte and it kind of means they are married in Wildlings’ sense.  Because they believe in stealing + bedding = marriage philosphy.

Meanwhile Sansa really marries Tyrion.

Two hearts that beat as one. Mance Rayder’s mocking words rang bitter in his head. [ASOS; Jon III]  The septon raised his crystal high, so the rainbow light fell down upon them. “Here in the sight of gods and men,” he said, “I do solemnly proclaim Tyrion of House Lannister and Sansa of House Stark to be man and wife, one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever, and cursed be the one who comes between them.” [ASOS; Sansa III]

Jon has sex with Ygritte because he needs to prove that he is loyal.  But he feels guilty because he takes pleasure.  So he stole her and bed her.  They are basically married. He didn’t want to but he was forced to.

Sansa had to do it because she is surrounded by the enemy.  And Tyrion believes he has to consummate the marriage because his father commanded him.  He desires Sansa even though she is a child and he feels a slight shame because of it.  But unlike Jon, Tyrion doesn’t bed Sansa.

Bed your sister

Ygritte asks some interesting questions… while someone was about to bed Jon’s sister.  She punched him. “That’s vile. Would you bed your sister?” [ASOS; Jon III]

I didn’t steal you… I’m no thief

Ygritte says that Jon stole her like Bael the Bar and talks about the star called Thief.  But Jon says he didn’t steal her.

In TWOW; Alayne I, Ser Roland also calls Sansa a thief for stealing his heart. But she says she is no thief.

Ygritte is a girl with Tully look with her red hair and blue-grey eyes whereas Ser Roland has Stark look with his brown hair and long face.  Sansa even says he is horse faced, and Arya is called Horsaface too and she looks like Jon. 

Ygritte // Sansa

Ygritte is a northern girl with Tully hair and she says she is a “half fish”

Sansa is a half Tully aka fish, redhead and northern…  Ygritte punched his arm. “You know nothing, Jon Snow. I’m half a fish, I’ll have you know.” [ASOS; Jon V]

More from this post by my friend on reddit: Jon and Sansa's parallel journey/imagery/settings in Jon and Sansa CHAPTERS PLACED NEXT TO EACH OTHER

ACOK Chapters 51, 52 and 53 - Steal the girl Chapter 51 - Jon, Chapter 52 - Sansa and Chapter 53 - Jon

Jon meets Ygritte who bares her throat for him and Jon puts his Longsword at it, intending to kill her but frees her:

She pushed her hair aside to bare her neck, and knelt before him. “Strike hard and true, crow, or I’ll come back and haunt you.”

“Now,” he said, “before my wits return. Go.”

She went.

The Hound puts his longsword against Sansa's neck but also frees her:

He laid the edge of his longsword against her neck, just under her ear. Sansa could feel the sharpness of the steel.

Now fly away, little bird, I’m sick of you peeping at me.”

Wordless, she fled

Before this, Ygritte tells Jon the tale of Bael the bard and how he stole the "Fairest flower in Winterfell"

‘All I ask is a flower,’ Bael answered, ‘the fairest flower that blooms in the gardens o’ Winterfell.’”

Next, we have Sansa recieve her first moonblood described as having "Flowered"

You’ve had your first flowering, no more.

Chapter ends with Cersei asking Sansa if she wants to be loved and have it followed by a Jon chapter.

Do you want to be loved, Sansa?”

“Everyone wants to be loved.”

“I see flowering hasn’t made you any brighter,” said Cersei. "Love is poison. A sweet poison, yes, but it will kill you all the same.”

Next chapter : Jon

ASOS Chapter 15, 16 

These two chapters are a bit icky and deals with sexual maturity. Feels like a parallel journey.

The Jon chapter consists of Tormund talking about his sex life, Jon claiming he's too young for sex and Ygritte basically throwing herself at him.

The Sansa chapter consists of men staring at Sansa's body sexually, maids remarking about her matured bosom, Margaery playing kissing games with her cousins etc.

First love’s Resemblance: 

And Sansa fell wildly in love with Ser Waymar, and Jon fell in love with a wildling girl kissed by fire:

Indeed, Sansa’s first crush was a brother of the Night’s Watch:

“Bronze Yohn knows me,” she reminded him. “He was a guest at Winterfell when his son rode north to take the black.” She had fallen wildly in love with Ser Waymar, she remembered dimly, but that was a lifetime ago, when she was a stupid little girl. “And that was not the only time. Lord Royce saw … he saw Sansa Stark again at King’s Landing, during the Hand’s tourney.”

—A Feast for Crows - Alayne I

And Waymar Royce looked like a Stark.  Waymar Royce was Jon’s lookalike.  More about it here. 

And Jon’s first love was Ygritte, a redhead, with blue-grey eyes, and to make the Tully look even more evident, Ygritte called herself half a fish: 

“Ygritte punched his arm. "You know nothing, Jon Snow. I'm half a fish, I'll have you know.” 

—A Storm of Swords - Jon V

Sansa’s first crush having the Stark Look and Jon’s first lover having the Tully look, reminds me of Catelyn being first betrothed with Brandon Stark but marrying Eddard Stark instead.  Brandon, died like Waymar.  Ned said Jon’s is a younger version of himself.  Ned never imagined marrying Catelyn, he had a young infatuation with Ashara Dayne, but he never acted on his feelings for her, and she died.  Ned also killed Ashara’s brother Arthur.  

Sansa fell wildly in love with Waymar, but she won’t marry him, he died.  She will probably fall in love with Jon in a more mature and calmly way.  Jon Snow, after a non-con beginning, ended loving Ygritte, not a lady, that offered him a “comfort level of femininity”, but he won’t marry her, she died.  Jon will probably fell in love with Sansa, freely and willingly.     

I think there is more to say and I could expand what was already said, but I think I covered the basics.

And to finish this post I will leave you with this picture.  A friend helped me to colored the rose blue, the original was yellow.  I call this picture: “Sansa with messy hair”.  And I think this picture is the perfect way to end this long answer.  

Good night.

[zkmythicalcreaturesweek]

Check out these mythical creature ficlets from Sav featuring witch!Katara and mermaid!Katara

she sings heathen songs by the light of the moon

The night was dark and unforgiving, devoid of a moon and the starlight obscured by a thick blanket of fog. It was an ominous night, but it wasn’t enough to deter Zuko, disgraced witch hunter, from his quest.

Tonight he was on the trail of a savage witch that legend said could control the blood of men and force them to her will. They called her the Painted Lady; they whispered it in fear, as though by uttering her name they might summon her and rain death upon their villages.

But Zuko was not afraid. He had killed a dozen witches by now. He had his weapons, his protections. He might not have been the prodigy that his sister was. He might not have brought honor to his father the way that Azula did. But Zuko knew he was strong and capable.

This witch would not live to see dawn.

Zuko tracked her to the witch’s den she was reported to live in. He readied his dao swords, dipped in a concoction that was supposed to harm witches. He was not afraid.

But as he approached, the fog seemed to thicken. He could feel the heavy moisture in the air. A chill ran down his spine as gooseflesh crawled across his skin, but before he could turn back, before he could run, there came a great roaring sound, and suddenly, Zuko was swept away in a deluge of freezing water.

He yelled as his blades were wrenched from his grip, as the water carried—no, it seemed to push— him back, away from the witch’s den. The water washed over his face, choking him and blinding him at once. Zuko couldn’t find purchase; his hands grappled uselessly against the water that seemed to be alive, slippery and impossible to fight.

At last, the water stopped. Zuko lay with his chest heaving and heart thundering in his chest. But before he could fully recover, there was suddenly a sharp pearl dagger pressed against his throat.

In the moonless night, her eyes were like dark wine, like the sea at sunset. But the red and gold marks on her skin nearly seemed to glow, even as she was cast in shadow by the wide-brimmed hat she wore. Her teeth, white and straight, flashed in a vicious snarl.

“Fool,” she hissed. “You’ve brought your own death upon your head.”

And her voice was like a melody more sweet than any instrument or bard could play. It sent a shiver down his spine, but this shiver was different. It wasn’t fear or wariness, it was…Zuko wasn’t sure that he had a word for it.

But he wanted to hear her voice again, wanted to watch her lips move to form the syllables as her voice painted the night with the sounds. Her eyes were mesmerizing; stormy seas tossed in a tempest. He wanted to drown in the storm in her eyes. He wanted to trace the marks on her skin, wanted to know if they were paint or tattoos, wanted to know how far down they painted her tea-colored skin. He wanted to know if she was all steel and hard edges, like a knife's blade, or if she was soft, too, like silk.

Zuko knew the dangers of beautiful witches. They were perhaps even more deadly than the old hags, for these beautiful ones were said to weave spells around helpless men with their appearance alone. But Zuko didn’t care. He only wanted to hear her voice again.

The witch—this legendary Painted Lady—raised her blade to plunge it into his heart. He could accept his death from this beautiful creature, but first, he had to tell her:

“You’re beautiful,” he said.

The witch faltered, her blade still hovering over him. He had never seen something or someone so magnificent.

“What?” she said, and that one word pulled him under her spell for good.

while my waves enclose you until you’re warm

The storm was violent, with ugly purple clouds that rained down with the fury of spirits and sent the sea roiling with a ferocity that made it seem almost alive.

Katara watched the tempest from below, deep in the dark sea. With each crack of lightning, the water lit up, and she watched the small ship being tossed mercilessly by the waves. She had watched countless men meet their fates by the power of the sea, had seen ships sink and come to rest on the silty seabed. Men were such fools, thinking they were worthy to combat the elements.

Lightning flashed across the sky, and the ship above was struck with an awful crack that she could hear even down in the sea. She watched as something—no, someone—plunged into the icy waters. Before she could think about it, Katara swam upwards, her strong flippers propelling her towards the quickly-sinking form.

She caught him under his arms and drew him to her chest. His eyes were closed, and bubbles of air escaped his mouth and nose. Men were such fragile creatures. He would die down here.

Katara turned and swam back down, her heart racing. She didn’t want this man to die. She shouldn’t have cared about him—men had hunted her kind almost to extinction—but she had never been able to turn her back on people who needed her. She wouldn’t start now.

She swam to a system of underwater caves down below and pulled him along inside. Deep in the cave system, there was a pocket of air. That would keep this man alive.

Katara pulled him onto a narrow shelf of rock. The bioluminescent creatures of the cave cast them in an eerie green-blue glow. His skin was pale, his dark hair plastered against his forehead. He was handsome, for a man, she supposed, although an angry scar marred the left hand side, across his eye to his ear.

She rested her head on his chest, hoping to hear his heart. It was beating weakly, but he was alive. Katara quickly pulled back and drew the water from his lungs.

The man coughed and sputtered, his eyes fluttering behind his closed eyelids. He pushed himself up onto his elbow and finally opened his eyes. He looked up and saw her there, and she saw that his eyes were gold, like the sun when it set.

“Don’t be afraid,” Katara told him gently. “You’re safe.”

His eyes cut around the dim cave before landing on her again. His cheeks darkened with a blush, and he looked away from her, focusing on something past her head. Katara glanced down and realized that her bare breasts were exposed above the water. She had heard that men were such prudish things, although merfolk did not have those same views. But she lowered herself beneath the water until she was covered.

“Who are you?” he demanded to know.

“A friend,” Katara answered. “I saved you from the storm. You fell into the sea.”

His eyes landed on her again, sharp, inquisitive. Beautiful. Katara swallowed. She had never seen a man as beautiful as this one, even with his scar.

“You’re a mermaid,” he hissed, suddenly sliding across his ledge to put more distance between them.

“I won’t harm you,” Katara said placatingly as she held up her hands.

“Mermaids drown sailors at sea,” he snapped.

Katara shook her head. “No, we don’t. It’s a lie men made to justify hunting us for our tails.”

She emphasized this by leaning her arms on the rock he was sitting on and lifting her tail from the water. It was a beautiful cerulean blue, and she watched as his eyes widened in fascination before she dipped her tail back below the water.

“I need to get back to my ship,” he said harshly.

Katara shook her head again. “It’s too dangerous. You’ll never make it aboard with the storm.”

“I can't stay here with you!” he spat.

Katara arched her brow. “Why, because I’m a mermaid? Or because I’m half-naked and you must protect your virtue?”

“I’ve seen naked women before,” he snapped.

“Oh, have you?” She pushed her chest above the water. “In paintings, perhaps?”

He averted his gaze and scowled. Katara chuckled to herself. Human men were so silly.

“I need to get back to my ship,” he said again.

“And as I said, we’ll have to wait for the storm to break. Then I’ll take you back,” she told him. “So get comfortable. The storm could go on for a while.”

He continued to sulk like an insolent teenage boy. Katara found it both annoying and endearing. With a smirk, she flicked seawater at him.

“What was that for?” he demanded to know.

“Quit pouting,” she said. “Things could be worse, you know. I could have let you drown.”

“Hmph.”

Katara watched him for a minute. She would never understand men. Where was his gratitude for saving his life? But it didn’t matter. She would befriend this man before the night was over. And, she supposed, that started by learning his name.

“I’m Katara, by the way,” she said.

His eyes flickered to her, his brow still furrowed. She thought he wasn’t going to answer.

But then, he quietly said, “Zuko.”

She smiled at him. “It’s nice to meet you, Zuko. We’ll ride out the storm together.”

[errthel]

Poseidon Bbys First Oneshot

Poseidon found himself reborn into another world as a babe

Poseidon vividly remembered the way his life ended, at the hands of the one called Sasaki. His rage knew no bounds, and as soon as he opened his eyes, he wanted- no needed, to teach that man a lesson. But instead, he saw beautiful eyes the color of (E/c), they were puffy, like she had been crying earlier, but the owner of those eyes showed Poseidon a smile he had never seen before. A smile of kindness.

-

Poseidon looked up to the dangling shiny things of the bassinet he was put in, he tried to reach up to the shiny objects. He was sure it was gold, albiet looking old, it still had that recognizable sheen due to being cared for well. It has been two months since he was reborn and he still wasn't that used to the fact that he was a babe.

A chuckle was heard from the side of Poseidons bassinet and he looked over to see those eyes, ones that held kindness every time she was him.

The owner of those eyes was a woman named (Y/n) (L/n), a noble lady who begged Poseidons father to become his nanny. She was a well-kept woman with (E/c) eyes that glistened and (H/c) hair that was always put in a low bun and out of face.

"Do you like is Caspian? I'm thankful that brother let me borrow it for you." she said, referring to the bassinet

Caspian, that was his name in this world, he was born during the first high tide of the year, truly befitting for the former God of the Seas. He was a prince, a prince of the Astheritian Empire, although he was a prince, he was of lowly birth.

His mother was a common dancer from another country, and his father, the Emperor who already had seven other children from different noble women. Because Poseidons mother was a common dancer from another country, his claim to the throne was little to none, having inherited the title of 'Eight Royal Prince' or in other words dead last.

-

(Y/n) kept a few candles of Poseidons room lit. She carried the babe to her bossom and gently rocked her arms. She silently hummed a song, knowing fully on how Poseidon detested loud noises during the night, it was one of the quirky habits Poseidon had, and so she respected his habits, simply humming a lullaby.

Poseidon stared at the womans kind face and took in all the details of her face. He was being craddled by the woman, and surprisingly she was softly humming instead of singing a lullaby like his original mother did, he detested noise during the night, but she continued on singing, either she ignored how he liked silence during night or she never knew. This made him appreciate this human like he did no other human or god in his previous life.

-

(Y/n) simply smiled when people asked her on how she was able to become a perfect nanny. Her eyes would immediately gain a downcast look before brightening when Poseidon would come running to her.

She stared at the four year old with fond eyes, she took him into a hug where he stiffened before relaxing. She ran her hands through his hair, oh how much it resembled his mothers, beautiful in every sense of the word.

(Y/n) grew up to become the best noble lady, but was put under too much pressure. Without anyone to turn to, she was slowly entering into a state of depression.

Until one summer day, she met her.

A siren-like beauty who moved as graceful as the water of a river. A kind smile was displayed on the face of the dancer as she invited the noblewoman for tea.

Enchanted, (Y/n) accepted her offer. She was the one who saved her from the poisonous jaws of the nobility. She and (Y/n) became the best of friends soon after.

"(Y/n) can I make a request?"

"Of course, as long as it doesn't break the law, I will do it."

"Yes... I am glad that I have a friend like you     (Y/n)." for a moment the dancer looked sad, but immediately cheered up when the noblewoman started to disscus about getting lessons to become a nanny

"Of course! I would do it even if you didn't ask!" the bubbly noblewoman said showing her enthusiasm to the dancer

"Right, right... I want you to become my childs nanny..." the beauty said

(Y/n) would soon understand her sad look when the tragedy of the first high tide happened.

-

She was cradling the newborn babe, tears and wails came from the woman.

The man stopped and looked at his child, hair like the dancer who stole his heart and ran off with it to the other side.

The woman held the babe protectively, her eyes showing a sense of complete defiance.

"Fine, Caspian was it? I'll make sure to remember that. We will see what will happen to him, (Y/n) (L/n)."

-

Poseidon had now lived for several years in this world, reading and gaining more knowledge the library of his palace could offer. His palace wasn't really a royal palace, but it was as big as those expensive rural mansions of high-ranking nobles. He would have complained about this, but (Y/n) made living in the palace bareable.

Over the several years she took care of the former god, she picked up every little habit of his. She knew the times he prefered to sleep, or read. She learned his body language and acted according to Poseidons moods.

She was thankful that she was able to take care of the babe and to see him grow to a handsome young child made her infinitly happy. She was truly like a mother to the former god, the mother he never got when he was an almighty being.

-

Poseidon was sitting underneath a tree that he had planted after learning that it was (Y/n)s favorite tree.

He was now a handsome young teenager. Poseidon was reading a book as usual, while eating a few sandwhiches (Y/n) had prepared for him. He reminisced the memories he had underneath this tree, the first time he showed (Y/n) this tree four years ago, the first time he met his father, and the time where (Y/n) pointed a sword at an assassin during the selection wars two years ago.

Poseidon simply stayed still as the breeze picked up his hair and slowly letting it down. He wad now the Crown Prince, a goal he had commited into completing when (Y/n) first defended him when he was picked on by his noble siblings at a banquet.

"Ian, there you are..." the kind voice from his childhood called out to him

"..." he simply stayed silent, but the nanny knew that he aknowledged her presence

Poseidon looked at the still youthful woman, over the years, she only grew taller and her bust only got a bit bigger, other than that, she looked like she hadn't aged since she first took care of him. He stood up and hugged the woman, she returned the hug and they both shared the warm embrace.

Poseidon looked back to when he was feeling something around the woman, he couldn't quite understand what that emotion was. He soon found himself thinking that it was love, and quickly tried to get rid of those emotions.

Poseidon soon realized that the love he felt wasn't romantic, but was unconditional love. It was love shared by him and his nanny, or at this point, mother. Something his original mother never cared for.

It was at this point that the almighty Poseidon was proud to be a human, completly forgeting his life as Poseidon the God of the Seas, and living as Caspian the Crown Prince of the Astheritian Empire.

[onceuponastory]

Coming Back Home Chapter One: Hometown (Nick x Y/N)

Plot: Six years ago, Y/N left her hometown and all its bad memories behind, and never looked back. But now, she’s come back to be the maid of honour in her sister’s wedding. Returning ‘home’ means she has to confront her past, the last thing she wants to do. When she meets the handsome best man Nick, she feels more comfortable...until her sister asks her to show Nick around town...a town that Y/N fell out of love with a long time ago.

Can Y/N fall back in love with the town she left behind, and maybe find love of her own along the way? Important: This story is based on a prompt by @orphicodysseywrites​. It’s a mix of prompts one and two from this post, so full credit for this idea goes to them! Warnings: None A/N: My first fic based on one of Dacre’s characters! I hope you all enjoy it. I’ve checked it for spelling issues and stuff like that. However, I’ve been working really hard on this, and working in real life, so I may have missed some issues. In that case, if you see any issues, no you didn’t, lmao. Also, although this fic has Nick in it, it has no spoilers for The Broken Hearts Gallery! To be honest, Nick is in this just because the plot fits him the best! let’s be honest, this prompt does not fit Billy lmaooo

Special thanks goes to my best friend Jo, aka @thesundrop​, who made this banner, and helped so much with planning this fic. Some of you may know her as @staticscreenwriting​, where she writes Billy fics. Check them out, they’re amazing!

Disclaimer: I don’t own Nick or his character! Like I said, I just used Nick bc he’s the only character of Dacre’s that fits this prompt. Again, aside from Nick being in this, this fic has NOTHING to do with The Broken Hearts Gallery. But you should all go see the movie because it’s adorable!

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we are about to begin our descent towards the airport. Please place all tray tables and seats in the upright position, stow away any laptops or other electrical equipment, and remain in your seats with your seatbelts fastened.” The flight attendant chirpily announces over the intercom, and I let out the sigh I didn’t even know I was holding. In a short while, I’d be on my way back to Saint Chase, the place I thought I’d never set foot in again. I had left that place behind years ago and moved to New York City, hoping that the bad memories from that town didn’t follow me there. And for the most part, they didn’t. However, since my younger sister was getting married there in three weeks, and I was the maid of honour, I obviously couldn’t turn it down. I love my sister, of course I do, and of course I wanted to see her again and take part in such a special moment of her life...I just wish she’d picked somewhere else to get married. Sooner than I’d have liked, the plane lands, and after collecting my luggage, I walk into arrivals. I don’t even have to look around the room before I hear:

“Y/N!!! Hi!” My younger sister Katie calls across to me. She bounds up to me and wraps her arms around me before I can even react. I immediately smell her fruity perfume. It smells familiar. It smells like home. “How was your flight? I hope it was good. I thought we were going to be late getting here, but thankfully traffic wasn’t too bad.” She continues chattering away, and I smile. Katie was a ball of energy in a 5′4 tall body, and that’s partly why I love her so much.

“Katie. Breathe.” I giggle, and she stops.

“Sorry! I know I get carried away sometimes. Anyway, you remember Adam, right? He-”

“Yes, Katie, I remember your fiancé. The same fiancé that you’re getting married to in three weeks.” I tease, and she flashes pink. “Hi, Adam.” I hold out my hand for a handshake, but he pulls me into a hug too.

“Come on Y/N.” He tells me, giving me a warm smile. “We’re almost family, you can give me a hug.” Weirdly, hugging Adam felt like home too. As they both lead me out of the airport towards their car, holding hands and chatting the entire way, I can’t help but smile. They really were perfect for each other. They were the typical high school sweethearts, who had been together since they met seven years ago. And now here they were, about to get married. I used to think true love, that sappy kind in movies where the guy is so squeaky clean that there’s nothing wrong with him, and who’d drop everything for the girl he loves didn’t exist (and the boyfriends I’d had over the years definitely helped me believe that). But when I saw how happy Katie was with Adam, how she gushed about him constantly, and just how happiness beamed out of her every time she was near him or talking about him, I began to realise that maybe that kind of love did exist after all. If only I could find it.

~~~

“We’re almost here, girls.” Adam announces, and I feel my stomach turning into knots. Is it too late to leap out of the car and make a run for it? But then I see Katie’s face in the rearview mirror, and I know I can’t do that to her. So I grimace and say how wonderful being so close is instead.

“So, are the three of us staying in the hotel then?” I ask, taking a gulp of my tea. I was going to book a room there myself, but Katie and Adam had told me they’d take care of accommodation, and despite my initial misgivings, I decided to trust my sister.

“Well, we actually have a surprise...” Katie begins. “We’ve done up Nana’s house, and that’s where we’ll be staying! Isn’t it great? It’s going to be such a great bonding experience!” I almost choke on my tea. Maybe I should’ve listened to my gut and just booked into the hotel after all.

“Wh-What?” I ask, spluttering a little.

“Yeah, Adam and I thought about it, and we thought it would be better. I mean, it’s cheaper for a start, and it’s so nostalgic! Getting married in the town Adam and I grew up in and staying in the house you and I grew up in!” She squeals excitedly.

“Katie, no...I didn’t even-”

“Ooh, we’re here!” Katie cuts me off and looks out her window. “Look! There’s the diner! And the library! Remember when Nana used to read to us there every day after school? Aw, it was so cute.” She grins, and I sit back in my seat, trying to avoid glancing out of the window. “And there’s the bakery! They’re making the cake for our wedding, so I know it’ll be sublime. Y/N, remember those chocolate cupcakes they have? So good right? Oooh, we should get some later for dessert babe!” She tells Adam, who nods. I should’ve known that we’d be staying in Nana’s old house. But typical me seemed to block that part out with every other thing I wanted to forget about this town. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the buildings of the town begin to fade away and become replaced by pine trees. Nana’s house was on the outskirts of town, before the forest, so I knew that we were close.

After a few more minutes, the car turns, and I hear the sound of gravel crunching beneath the wheels. Nana’s house had a gravel drive, so it was obvious that we had arrived. The car stops, and we all get out. Nana’s house looked almost the same as it did when I left four years ago. The roses around the door were still there, as well as all the lavender bushes in her front garden. All that looked different was the colour of the front door. Katie did a good job. The house still looked like something out of a fairytale storybook, somewhere where seven dwarves or three bears could live comfortably for many years...or maybe where a grandmother raised her two granddaughters. But how familiar the house looked did little to quell my unwillingness to stay there.

“Good to be back, right?” Adam asks, giving me a smile. Trying to avoid showing my unhappiness, I nod and force a small smile. Thankfully, Adam doesn’t seem to notice. He walks up to Katie, picks her up, and carries her over the threshold of the house.

“No! Adam! You’re meant to do this AFTER we get married!” Katie giggles and squeals, squirming about in Adam’s arms. “Y/N, help!” she calls, disappearing into the house.

“Sorry, Katie, you’re on your own!” I call back. And then, I’m alone, staring up at the house where I spent most of my life...and where I swore I’d never go again. A cold chill spreads across my body, and I can’t tell if it’s the wind or my nerves.

It’s going to be a long three weeks.

~~~

A Few Hours Later 

I was settled into my old bedroom from when I was younger, and was laying on my bed, scrolling through my phone. Suddenly: “Knock knoooock!” A sing-song voice sounds from the other side of my bedroom door.

“Come in, Katie.”

“Aw, how’d you know it was me?” Chuckling, I open the door. Katie stands there, pouting.

“Well for a start, that’s what you did when we were kids, and you wanted to show me something...and you did it when we were teenagers too. I’m your big sister Katie. I know you.”

“You’re only two years older than me!”

“That still makes me smarter than you.” I tease, winking. Sighing, Katie laughs.

“Yeah, you’re right. I can’t get anything past you, can I?”

“Nope! Anyway, what’s up?”

“Nick’s almost here. We’re all going to pick him up from the train station and get dinner, so you two can get to know each other before the rehearsal dinner and the wedding. Ah, it’s going to be great!” She squeals excitedly. Meanwhile, I’m just confused.

“...Nick?”

“Y/N.” Katie is suddenly more serious, which is totally unlike her. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten who Nick is!” My blank stare makes her sigh. “You know, Nick!” She stresses his name like I should know it, and like I’ve committed a felony by forgetting it. But nothing springs to mind, so I stay silent. Katie huffs. “Nick is Adam’s best man. They met in college. They were roommates. He’s coming down early to help set up, and so you two can get to know each other. Sounds like you two getting to know each other is desperately needed.”

“Oh...right.” I respond, and she rolls her eyes. It was quite strange, seeing my ordinarily happy and energetic sister be so serious.

“Anyway, he’s going to be here soon, so you better get ready. And remember, you two are important parts of this wedding, AND you two are dancing together too, so please be nice to him.”

“Well, there go my plans to punch him in the face as soon as I meet him.” I joke.

“Y/N!” Katie whines. “That’s not funny! It’s my wedding at stake!”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry.” I give her a hug. “I love you. I know how important this is to you. I won’t let anything bad happen. I promise.”

“Thanks sis.” Katie replies. “Anyway, come on, we’re leaving in ten minutes.” She orders, walking towards the door.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Oh! I forgot to tell you! Nick’s going to be staying here too, so you’ll be seeing each other a lot more!” She announces happily.

“...He’s WHAT?!”

~~~

The sounds of the radio fill the car as the three of us sit in silence. I think the song they’re playing is by ABBA....or maybe Fleetwood Mac. Actually, I wasn’t really paying attention to whatever song was playing. Shocking, I know. Instead, I was sitting tapping my leg, waiting to see if I could notice Nick. Nick. The man  I thought I would just be dancing with at my sister’s wedding, and making pleasant conversation with, not sharing a space with for the next three weeks. I love my sister, I honestly do...but god, I wish she’d tell me things in advance sometimes.

But that’s who Katie is. She’s spontaneous, I’m not. She’s an extrovert, and I’m the introvert. She’s wild and fun...and I’m boring. In some ways, we’re polar opposites of each other. But that also draws us closer together. Yes, aside from our genetics, we weren’t that alike...but we were still sisters, and the best of friends.

“There he is! I see him!” Katie pipes up excitedly, cutting off my thoughts. She and Adam immediately get out of the car and start waving him over, leaving me in the backseat. Immediately my cheeks flush. Oh god, he’s going to have to sit next to me, isn’t he? Shit. I glance out of the window and see Nick is close by. Sighing, I decide I better get out and greet him. If I was going to be spending three weeks living with him, I better make a good first impression.

“Hi Katie!” His voice greets her, and he pulls her into a hug. “I’ve not seen you in forever!”

“I saw you like two weeks ago!” She giggles. Nick then turns to Adam, and greets him. I stand back a little, watching them. The three of them look happy and natural together. Like a proper family. While I feel like the one who doesn’t belong. The puzzle piece that doesn’t fit into this happy family dynamic. Of course, I couldn’t tell Katie that, that would make her feel even more worried, and she didn’t deserve this stress. Not now. I take a deep breath. All I need to do is make it through these three weeks until the wedding. “Nick.” Katie begins, gesturing towards me. “This is my sister Y/N, the maid of honour!” Deep breaths Y/N. You can do this. It’s just a guy. After all, it’s not like he’s a Greek God or something. And then he turns around.

His blue eyes sparkle, and he grins. “So this is the girl I’m going to dance with, huh?” He holds out his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Nick.”

Oh my god, he’s gorgeous. What I said about him not being a Greek God? I was wrong. He looks better than that. Oh god, I’m so fucked. Oh god, he’s staring at me, and I haven’t said anything to him. I quickly grab his hand and shake it. Hopefully he doesn’t notice my sweaty palms.

“It’s nice to meet you, Nick.” I flash a smile, hoping to every god there is that I don’t have lipstick or food on my teeth.

“I’ve heard so much about you!” I...wish I could say the same. Katie really needs to tell me things in advance...including whether or not her fiancé hangs out with Greek God lookalikes.

“All good, I hope!” I chuckle awkwardly. Nick smiles again.

“All great things.” The two of us stand there, just staring at each other. Katie’s voice calls over:

“Come on, you two, I’m starving! Stop eyeballing each other and get in the car!” My eyes go slightly wide, and I quickly get into the car, desperate not to make a fool of myself, even if it seemed Katie was trying to.

“Oh, sorry Nick. Just move my bag and jacket from your seat.” I tell him as he opens his door. “Actually, just pass them over here.” He passes them over, and as I reach out to take them, our hands brush against each other. Shivers run up my spine. This isn’t normal, right? No, it isn’t. You don’t usually feel shivers up your spine when you brush hands with people you just met. That usually means something deeper....right? Nick gets in beside me, and I’m immediately aware of the smell of his cologne. He smells great. Like...really great. God, this man really is the full package, huh? Adam sets off, and I settle back into my seat, trying not to make eye contact with anyone.

“So, what’s Saint Chase like?” I hear Nick ask, causing me to look back up at him. “I’ve never been here before, so I was just wondering, like, is there any fun things to do, or any good memories? I know you and Katie grew up here, so...” He seems genuinely interested, and I have no idea what to tell him. I mean, what could I say? I’m guessing Katie didn’t tell him how desperate I was to get the hell out of the town as soon as I could.

“Well....” I begin. “To be honest, Nick, I’m not the best person to ask.” I admit. “I haven’t been back here in a while. You’d be better off asking Katie if you need a tour guide...sorry.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, Nick looks a little disappointed, but he doesn’t say anything regardless. I sink back into my seat again. I mean, it wasn’t like I lied...I genuinely don’t remember much about the town...or I had just tried to block out the memories so much, it actually worked.

After another agonising car journey, the car parks outside of Saint Chase’s diner. Again, like Nana’s house, it looked like nothing had changed from what I remembered. It was almost like the town was part of its’ own little universe, where the buildings and the people in it never grew up, and neither would you if you stayed there. Okay, maybe that was dramatic, but still.

Katie pushes open the door, and the woman behind the counter looks up as we walk in. Before any of us could say anything, the woman exclaims:

“OH! MY! GOD! Is that who I think it is?!” She quickly runs out from behind the counter, and up to Katie and I. “It is! It’s Rose’s granddaughters!” She pulls us both into a hug, giving us a tight squeeze. Pulling away, she looks us up and down. “Remember me? It’s Jane! God, I remember when your Grandma, god rest her soul, used to bring you in for breakfast every Saturday, ever since you were about this high Katie.” She points to her knee. Straightening back up, she looks us both over again. “Aw, you both look so much like your mother. Especially you, Y/N.” She smiles, causing a pang in my heart. She looks behind us, not noticing the sad expression on my face. “Ooooh! Are these the boyfriends?” She winks. “They’re gorgeous, good on you girls!”

“Well Jane, this is my fiancé Adam-” Katie begins, immediately getting squeals of delight, and congratulations in return. “And this is his best friend Nick, who’s the best man.”

“But we’re not dating.” I finish. Even if he was really gorgeous.

“Oh that’s right! I forgot you two are getting married here!” She sighs. “I’d forget my head if it wasn’t screwed on, honestly.” She steps closer to me, and her voice drops to a whisper. “But if you’re serious about not taking him honey, let me know, and I gladly will. He’s beautiful.” She gestures toward Nick. “Anyway! Let me get you four the best seats in the house. Follow me!” She orders, and the four of us do so. Jane leads us to a booth near the back of the diner and passes over some menus. “I’ll be right back to get you some drinks.” She grins.

“Well...she seems friendly!” Nick states, making us all laugh.

~~~

Later

“So anyway, Nick is completely drenched by this point. I mean, obviously, he had fallen into a pool.”

“Pushed. I was pushed.” Nick corrects, making Katie and I laugh. Adam was telling us stories of him and Nick in college, and I was feeling a lot more comfortable. Nick was hilarious, and he seemed really sweet. Maybe sharing a house with him for three weeks wouldn’t be so bad after all. “Anyway, that’s why I immediately pulled him into the pool with me, so he could know how it feels.” Nick finishes.

“Oh, you should’ve been there, babe. We both had white shirts on. Abs for days.” Adam tells Katie. God, of course Nick has abs. Wouldn’t expect anything else.

“Really? Maybe Y/N should’ve been there, she loves ab- ouch!” Katie begins, before I gently kick her in the shin. Adam and Nick look over, clearly concerned. “Sorry, just....bashed my leg on the table leg.” She lies, and I give her a pointed look, causing her to raise an eyebrow.

“Okaaaay...anyway, we’ve told a story about our college mishaps, how about one from you two?” Nick asks. Katie furrows her eyebrows for a moment, clearly deep in thought...and then her eyes light up. Oh no. Why do I have a feeling this will end badly for me?

“Did I ever tell you two about the time Y/N almost went to a midterm in her underwear?” And there it is.

“Nonononono, we don’t need to hear this story!” I gasp, my cheeks flushing red.

“Oh I think we do.” She winks, while I hide my face in my hands. And there goes my last shred of dignity. And with it, any hopes of having Nick see me as anything other than a total mess.

~~~

That Night

I was sitting on my bed, reading. Since we had gotten home from the diner, I had retreated upstairs, changed into my pyjamas and stayed there. Mainly because I was trying to avoid Nick, and any other potential forms of embarrassment before the wedding. Maybe I could just stay in there until the wedding? Sighing, I put my book down and lean back into my pillows. Not that I was paying much attention to the book anyway. Why was I like this? I mean, yeah, of course I didn’t want to embarrass myself, especially in front of a guy, but why was I going to such lengths for Nick? Why was I so hell-bent on not embarrassing myself in front of him? There must be something about him...something...different. Of course, he’s the best man to my maid of honour in my sister’s wedding, which is obviously part of it, but it felt like there was something more there. Something I didn’t understand. A knock at the door pulls me out of my thoughts.

“Katie, I hope you’re here to- oh!” I gasp when I see who is on the other side of the door. Nick stands there, dressed in a t-shirt and plaid pyjama pants. His hair was wet from a shower, and looked slightly curly.

“Hi.” He says, his voice slightly husky, causing the shivers from before to return.

“H-Hi, Nick.” I stammer. “What can I do for you?” He doesn’t answer me, and instead passes over a steaming mug.

“We made some tea, and I thought I’d bring you a mug.” He explains.

“Thanks.” I take a sip of the tea, immediately feeling its warmth pass through me.

“Are you feeling alright?” Nick asks. “You came up right after we got back from dinner, and you’ve been up here for a while, so I was wondering if you were okay.”

“Oh...yeah I’m fine, just tired from my flight.” I lie. Nick smiles and nods.

“Yeah I get that, I think it’ll be an early night for me too.” The two of us stand there for a minute, neither of us saying anything to the other. “Nice pyjamas by the way.” Nick breaks the silence, and I glance down at my Minnie Mouse pyjamas, immediately wishing I’d brought different ones.

“Thanks.” And then, back to silence. But in a way, it was a comfortable silence, one where we didn’t have to say anything to each other, and instead, just enjoy the company of each other.

“Well, I think I’m going to head off to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight Y/N.” He smiles. “It was really nice to meet you today.”

“Yeah, it was.” I smile back. “Goodnight Nick.”

~~~

The Next Day

“Morning sleepy head.” Katie says through a mouthful of toast as I walk into the kitchen.

“It’s 9am. This is early for me.”

“I know, I know. Just teasing.” She laughs.

“Anyway, what do you need me to do today? What still needs doing?” I ask, reaching down to grab a slice of toast.

“Hey!” Katie swats my hand away. “And about that...” She trails off. “I’ll tell you in a sec.” I hear the noise of someone coming downstairs. I don’t even have to question who it is, as I hear:

“Morning ladies.” His voice sounds huskier than it did last night. God, what is it with him?

“Hey Nick.” We reply. “Actually Nick, I need to speak to you and Y/N.” Katie tells him as I grab a glass of water. “Adam and I were talking last night, and we had an idea for some...special wedding tasks for you two.” I raise an eyebrow, and Nick gives me a questioning look. I shake my head, symbolising I have no idea what she means. Katie clears her throat. “We thought that Y/N should show you around town, Nick!” I almost choke on my water.

“What?” I gasp.

“Yeah, I mean, it gives you two the chance to get closer, which is going to be useful for the wedding.” She explains. “And it’ll help you to get to know the town again Y/N!”

“I mean, yeah, sounds good.” Nick nods. No, it doesn’t sound good. That sounds like everything I don’t want to happen. Nick was great, but I did not want to fall back in love with this town and remember all the memories I tried so hard to forget. But then, I look into the eyes of my baby sister, and I know I can’t break her heart. Especially not before her wedding. Even if it hurts me, I sigh and nod.

“Nick’s right. It sounds good.” Katie’s face lights up.

“Thanks guys!” She pulls us both into a hug. Now I definitely can’t break her heart and say no. “You two can start today.” She grins. “But don’t keep her out too late Nick, I need her back here to help make the centrepieces later.” She winks. “Have fun.” She whispers, heading upstairs.

“So...when do you wanna start?” I ask Nick.

“Well, if you want, we could go for a walk later today?” He offers.

“Sure. Just let me get some food and get ready, then we can head out.” I tell him, and he agrees, before also heading upstairs. And then, I’m alone.

Like I said before, It’s going to be a long three weeks.

[awkwardplant]

Sci-fi/Misc Short Story: Diorama

Weary travellers entered a building to escape from the zombies that had been chasing them. Night-time drew closer and only a little bit of sunlight filtered through the large dusty windows at either side of the room. Despite the dust, everything here looked pristine, unsurprising as it didn't seem the materials here were much use to survivalists.

"Is that an easel?" Johnny the Veterinarian wandered over to the contraption, lifting away a greyed cloth covering it, revealing a canvas with a few marks of brown oil pastels.

A younger member of the team who refered to himself as the Tailor (everyone else called him Ed, or the Cosplay Guy, or That Teenager) dove into some drawers and boxes. "Please tell me there's a non electrical sewing machine, or fabrics, ooh I'll even take sequins at this point! Anything I don't have to make from scratch."

"Don't think this type of place will have those kinda things, Ed. Looks like a kindergarten's arts and crafts room." said Johnny. "Might have glitter though."

Paul the Farmer rolled his eyes at his group. "No point lookin round 'ere, let's settle down, find somethin soft, and kip for the night." He shrugged off his backpack which carried the all the bare essentials it could hold, and popped his spine with a groan. "Food chain these days is all outta whack I tell ye."

At the entrance, Melissa the Engineer boarded up the door with some convenient planks of wood, nails, and a hammer she carried everywhere. "Oughta keep them out. Phew. Bit cold in here isn't it?"

Melissa's daughter, Isla the six year old, stood in the middle of the art studio, eyes filled with wonder at all the creations. Clay sculptures of graceful torsos, pencil drawings of still lifes that looked more or less exactly like the sketches, completed oil paintings of landscapes hung on the wall next to colorful, abstract ones.

Isla spied a light still on behind a door to another room left slightly ajar. "I see a light, do you think someone lives here?"

All the adults tensed and raised their weapons, eyes peering in the direction Isla curiously tiptoed towards. Paul hissed at her to slow down, firmly grabbing her shoulder and pulling her back behind him as he stared ahead. The air was silent aside from the floorboard's weak groans that sounded like a sigh of relief at the return of humans gracing its surface.

Johnny tapped lightly on the door which opened without any creaks or spooky noises, and revealed a warm orange glow of a desk lamp. The desk was cluttered with tiny objects you would expect to see at much bigger sizes such as doors and furniture. Several drawers of multiple sizes surrounded and sat on the desk filled to the brim with paints, glue, craft knives and other materials. A single mug rested on a green cutting board with some stale coffee inside.

Isla squeaked in delight as she darted across the room. "Mommy! There's dollhouses here!"

Melissa strode towards her daughter, blinking in surprise when seeing there was in fact what appeared to be multiple dollhouses meticulously displayed in glass cases on many shelves.

"Some strange looking dollhouses," Ed said. "Why would a kid want to play with a dollhouse that looks like a swamp?" He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes at the minature shack on stilts that sat atop fake greenery and resin water.

Paul chuckled. "And this ane's even got tiny critters from my farm! Now tell me that isnae just the spittin image of my wee goat." He tapped the glass of a mini farm with toy animals placed in the field.

"I think, uh..." Johnny clicked his fingers, brow furrowing. "I swear I remember... Ah well, I don't know the proper name of them but I've seen train sets that have these kind of things, do you know what I mean?"

"Yeah!" Melissa chirped. "This is how they used to make movie sets isn't it? Because back then they didn't have CGI to make places they couldn't afford to go to when filming."

"And humanity has reverted back to that time period." sighed Ed, who greatly missed his Friday night Star Wars rewatches with his friends. "Maybe even further back than that. Losing the internet was like losing the Library of Alexandria."

All of them wandered around the shelves to look at all the miniature sets. Mountains formed purely by plastic foam, a landscape of a picnic inside an open altoid tin, a greenhouse cluttered with plants no bigger than a pinkie finger. Some miniatures sat on the floor, the ones that were massive compared to the other sets yet still very tiny versions of medieval castles and gothic architecture.

Melissa stopped in front of a small library room that had holes in the ceiling with trees growing beneath them, books and furniture meticulously littered everywhere. Flashbacks to her days studying in her hometown's library filled her mind.

"This is what they thought the apocalypse would look like." she said, with tears welling up in her eyes. "They thought- they- they made art of stuff like this because they imagined it would look beautiful. How could they romanticise such disaster?"

Johnny walked up next to her, crouching down to see inside the library. "Hauntingly beautiful, maybe. I do remember certain types of people were fascinated with the idea of nature reclaiming the lands that humans built on."

"And that idea was dumb," said Paul. "Because now the deer are overpopulated and they destroyed the forests, and who knows what other animals are causing chaos without conservationists."

"There are pros and cons to everything that happens." Johnny replied. "But yes, it doesn't help that the handful of humans that are left don't know how to handle this... resurgence of nature."

Isla looked around, peering back through the door to the main room of the art studio. "This library dollhouse looks just like real life doesn't it? It's like we're little dolls too."

Melissa smiled sadly, stroking her daughter's hair. "It does put things in perspective." She hoped things would settle down enough for her to be able to teach Isla things she had learned in school at her age.

"The Earth is the size of a pinprick compared to the sun and we're all just ants in the grand scheme of things." Ed said, and one could guess he was trying to imagine how small he was compared to the Starkiller base.

Paul snorted. "But bigger than regular old ants and smart enough to put together nicknacks that make ladies cry." He nudged Melissa teasingly.

Eventually, the group finally realized that the lamp was connected to a solar powered generator with a back up of energy reserved and they attempted to recharge their walkie talkies. After a few near-electrocutions, they finally connected to a radio station broadcasting a rather laid back distress signal.

"This is DJ Smooth calling out to anyone, God, just anyone out there, from the abandoned military base in Alconbury. Been out here for uh, 3 months now, there's not been any zombie sightings for a while and I have been sooo bored. Come find me and we can hang out, maybe fight over my remaining supplies so I can remember how to feel something that isn't dissociation. Stay tuned after this music break for the co-ordinates to my location, and my heart. See ya soon cuties. Over."

Later that night everyone created some makeshift beds out of the cloths that had covered some artworks and easels, which Ed would repurpose at some point during their travels to make some new socks. They all lay on their backs in the dark, close to each other to conserve warmth. If there were any zombies outside they didn't hear them, only the rush of wind and rain pattering on the windows.

"Mommy," Isla whispered. "I liked the song that the man on the radio played."

"Yeah sweetie, I liked it too. It was... something from the 90's? I think? Probably not age appropriate but you didn't understand it so it's fine, I guess. Something funny to look back on one day."

Isla rolled over onto her stomach to look at her mom. "When we go back to Paul's farm I want to play the guitar we found."

"We can't go... Tell you what Isla, we'll go see the music man from the radio, and he'll help us cure the zombies, and then we can get everyone an instrument and all make music together."

"Yes! That's a good idea!"

"And we can do plays in theatres and make movies again." Ed added shyly.

"Movies that don't involve zombies and will make us forget this shitshow ever happened." Johnny sighed, unable to close his eyes and dreading the nightmares.

Paul growled and hushed the others, but then he said "Doesnae matter if zombies are out for us and we've got no artsy stuff, we can still sing."

They all sang Country Roads quietly (Isla could only sing the chorus yet sang with such sincerity), with gentle echoes of their melody bouncing off the walls of the art studio until they fell asleep.

The next day they left to find the military base and made up new songs along the way, with renewed and desperate hope that they might find a cure for the zombies someday soon.

The end.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

The Crucible (part two)

[UK Tour; Carrie AU 2]

Part 1

Word count: 9240

TW: Child abuse, blood, the r-word again, emotional manipulation, minor implied sexual content (as in: one paragraph and nothing actually happens), underage drinking, vomit

------------

-Eve Was Weak-

  “Jesus watches from the wall,

But his face is cold as stone

And if he loves me,

As she tells me,

Why do I feel so alone?”

Mulaney looked up from the notebook, which is studded with doodles of crosses and stars and hearts, and set his gaze on the teenager sitting across from him. Her arms are crossed over her chest again and she’s leaned back in her chair, jaw set thoughtfully. She’s got some sass, but was one of the easiest, most well-mannered people he’s spoken to for questioning before. Plus, she made the examination more fun with her snarky comments, which were even able to make his stoic partner who ran the camera, Madeline, chuckle or smile from time-to-time.

  “Any speculation as to who the author is?” 

  “I’m gonna go out on a limb and say Joan Seymour.” Katherine Howard said. That sass mentioned before slipped back into her voice, edging her words in a way that made Mulaney huff out an amused breath.

  “What do you suppose she’s trying to say?” Mulaney questioned.

  “Probably, ‘help me, my mother’s insane.’” Katherine responded.

  “Interesting.”

Katherine raised her eyebrows at him, sniffing. She’s poised and waiting.

  “Do you consider yourself anti-religious, Katherine?” Mulaney asked.

Katherine snorted a light laugh. “No.” She said. “I just think some people take it too far, that’s all.”

  “And you disapprove?”

  “Look--” Katherine uncoiled her arms and sat up straight. At Mulaney’s side, Madeline quirked a brow at her change in stance, intrigued. “I’m all for believing whatever it is that you believe, but you say ‘religion’ to me, and I’m thinking da Vinci’s Last Supper. Jesus looks sad. The apostles look miserable. I don’t want to go to that party!”

Mulaney blinked at her logic. Katherine looked back at him, then turned her gaze up thoughtfully. She drummed her pointer fingers against the tabletop.

  “Shouldn’t religion be more like Dogs Playing Poker?” She said.

  “Dogs playing…”

  “Poker.” Katherine finished for Mulaney. “I can’t tell you what any of the apostles are doing in The Last Supper. But I can tell you that the little white bulldog is holding an ace under the table.”

Mulaney unsuccessfully tried to smother a smile. Katherine caught it, grinning.

  “See?” She said. “That’s fun! I’m engaged! There’s wonderment and awe! That other stuff is just all ritual and punishment. And it’s way too weird and way too serious.” She leaned back again, studying Mulaney and Madeline’s expressions. “What? It is!”

------

Jane Seymour was a woman of many faces, and not in the mentally ill sort of way, although some people assumed she may have been harboring multiple personality disorder within her wretched brain. She had many masks to wear, some cold and stoic, others sinister and wicked, and a few that may have even been sweet and nurturing. When she was at the local laundromat she worked at in town, several customers reported how she would “look at them like she was assessing their souls”, like she was judging whether or not they deserved to go to heaven. She thought most of them were Godless and muttered about it constantly, regardless of if they could hear her or not. She simply did not care.

Many people thought she would never delve into the sexual world of intercourse, what with all her screws loose that warded away most men and her extreme devotion to Christ, so it was quite shocking to hear the screams that erupted from the Seymour bungalow May 13th, 2005. Police were called, but had to wait to get a search warrant, so they, along with several neighbors, sat on the curb for hours, listening to the piercing cries that split the street in two. By the time police finally burst into the house to locate the struggle, they thought they were too late when they reached the master bedroom, which was covered in blood. But then they saw the woman rocking back and forth on the soaked bed, holding a tiny red baby with tufts of whitish hair to her left breast and everything clicked into place.

Several believed this woman was not fit to raise a child for obvious reasons, but police had no right to take a baby away from its mother, so the infant stayed and grew up in the house she was born in. It wasn’t like there was any place she could go, anyway. Jane’s husband was nowhere to be found. 

Henry Tudor is--was--had been a mountain of a man. His arms were like truck tires, round and firm to the touch. He had broad shoulders, a barrel chest, and a huge body to go along with his already giant frame. Coppery gold hair framed his head and his bright sapphire blue eyes struck a stare that could put someone six feet under. Every single aspect of the man’s body boasted of an indestructible juggernaut.

And yet, he hasn’t been seen in fifteen years.

Rumors bubbled up. They always did. Some speculated he ran away to avoid the burden of taking care of a child or to simply get away from his insane wife. Others, mainly rowdy teenagers itching for drama, said Jane killed him and sacrificed his body to the Lord. Because of that, stories of the Seymour bungalow being haunted were created, although there was no proof of anything of the sort. Because they weren’t true. But Jane Seymour had been out to kill.

Her girl-spawn had barely been a few months old at the time. She laid in her homemade crib, gurgling and laughing, staring with strange blue eyes up at a mobile that was made for her. Jane crept up to her and aimed a knife for her throat.

Henry stopped her.

  “You shall name her Johanna,” He had rumbled, easing Jane’s hand back to her side. “Joan for short.”

  “Like Joan of Arc.” Jane had observed.

  “Yes,” Henry had said.

  “Hm.” Jane had peered down at the wriggling little beast. “I suppose that does make it slightly less Godless.”

  “Yes,” Henry had said again. “Wait and see.”

And then, he was gone, disappearing into the night and never coming back.

Jane should not have let him stop her.

The child, of course, did not know this.

Joan slipped through the front door, but not without noticing a few neighbors peeking avidly out of their own windows, ears pricked. The whole neighborhood, possibly even the entire city, was always so interested in every little detail of the Seymour family’s lives. At least a few of them actually had the decency to duck back inside when they saw her coming up the sidewalk. One didn’t even notice her, it seemed, because he was still staring when she disappeared inside, while another was only pretending to not snoop while she fussed unnecessarily over her rose garden. Joan shot the flowers a sharp look, willing them to burst out of the ground and bite the lady’s nose off, but the front door closed behind her before she could see if anything happened. From the silence outside, she assumed nothing did.

(damn stupid woman wish she’d just go blind)

The smell of cinnamon was drifting through the entrance hallway. Maroon and orange (never red) candles were lit up throughout the downstairs area; Mama always preferred their warm glow over the harsh fluorescence of the overhead lights. Mama’s favorite radio station, WORT Radio, could be heard playing from the kitchen, along with the sound of singing.

Mama’s singing.

  “Jesus, possess me!

Sweet savior, be my shepherd

Bless each endeavor

Till I finally join you forever”

A giddy tingling sensation zipped up through Joan’s spine. She always loved the sound of Mama’s singing. Her voice was so silken and honey-slicked, like the gentle croon of an angel. Joan said she should join a gospel, that she would be the best singer in the entire group, but Mama would always wave this off with a dismissive hand and a chuckle.

Joan ventured further into the house, feeling lighter and lighter with each step. She entered the lounge, where a Black Forest cuckoo clock clucked peacefully on the wall. There were many religious pictures and crucifixes in here, but Joan’s favorite was the photo of Jesus leading a herd of baby lambs through a beautiful flowered field. It radiated so much innocence, unlike all the other paintings of punishment and hellfire and sin. It was hung up beside the huge wooden cross with reddened edges over the unused fireplace. Joan did her best to never look at that decoration in particular.

Weaving around the brown felt couch and two moth-eaten velvet throne chairs facing each other, Joan glided into the kitchen. It was an old kitchen indeed, with an oven that squealed like a dying pig when opened and a sputtering gas stove, but everything worked perfectly fine for the two of them.

Two…

  “Fly me free of temptation

And the flames of Hell's devastation

Then He will take me

And wash me in the river

I will make celebration

In the joy of final 

The might of final 

The fire of final Salvation!”

There was Mama, singing along to the song playing from an old radio on the counter, her back to Joan. 

She was a moderately sized woman, but had a strong, corded neck and incredibly muscled hands from years of working at the local laundromat. Honey blonde hair framed her face, which was quite beautiful in a weird, overzealous religious way. Reaching brown roots slithered like snakes from her scalp, with only a few white hairs visible. Despite being in her forties, her complexion was more weathered by hardship and discipline than age. Piercing golden brown eyes flickered when she finally noticed her daughter standing there and a smile broke out on her pale pink lips.

  “Mama,” Joan said breathily, unable to bite back her giddy grin. 

  “Ah, Joan,” Mama said, “there’s my sweet girl.” And then she opened her strong arms out wide and Joan darted into them instantly, nestling into her embrace. Mama smelled like honey and laundry detergent. “You’re home early.”

Joan felt her lower stomach twinge and she leaned a little closer into Mama’s chest. She would keep her mouth shut about the incident at school for now. Mama was in a good mood; no need to go and mess that up.

  “School--ended sooner than usual.” Joan said, internally wincing. She hated lying, always fearing that she would be struck dead the moment the fib rolled off her tongue, but she would correct herself and tell the truth soon.

Mama hummed. “I see.” She pulled away and turned back to the counter, where she had been shaping bread dough with her wolf-like hands. “Dinner won’t be ready for awhile.”

  “That’s okay,” Joan said. “I can wait.”

Mama hummed again. Joan fidgeted anxiously behind her.

  “Is everything alright, my darling?” Mama asked, concern in her smooth voice.

  “Yes, Mama,” Joan answered. “Just-- umm-- may I go shower?”

Mama chuckled. “Of course, dear.”

  “Thank you, Mama.” Joan gave her another quick hug, then scurried up the creaky wooden stairs to her room.

Filthy. She suddenly felt so filthy. She had showered barely an hour ago, but grime seemed to be crawling all over her. Would Mama be safe from it? Was it bad that she touched her?

She tried to remember what Miss Aragon had told her. About this being…

  “Normal.” Miss Aragon said. “It’s perfectly normal, Joan. Every girl goes through it.”

Joan whimpered. The spattered mess between her legs had been wiped away by Miss Aragon, a humiliation she would never be able to live down, and she was now fully dressed again, but her clothes felt too tight, especially around her groin. It felt like there were eels alive and writhing inside of her. She squirmed on the grey couch she was seated on in Miss Aragon’s office, a place where most students were forbidden to go into.

  “My skin feels weird,” Joan whispered. “I-I’m hot…”

Miss Aragon frowned. Joan looked up at her with shiny, wet blue eyes and a glazed expression.

  “It hurts,” She croaked.

  “I know, sweetheart.”

  “What did I do?”

  “What?”

Joan shifted uncomfortably. Guilt surged through her, along with another painful sensation in her lower stomach. She whimpered again.

  “What did I do?” She asked again. “D-did I sin? Is this my punishment?” Miss Aragon looked baffled, and Joan wasn’t sure how she should feel about that. 

  “No, no, Joan,” Miss Aragon said quickly. “You didn’t--you didn’t sin.” She made a face, like those words tasted funny on her tongue, but it disappeared quickly. “You’re a very good girl. All women go through this, like I said. It’s completely normal.”

  “But--but I’m bleeding!” Joan cried woefully. She could feel drops of blood squeeze slickly out of her vagina and she cringed. “You shouldn’t-- it’s not-- I-I’m gonna bleed to death!”

Miss Aragon is frowning again, and Joan easily recognized it as a frown of pity. That’s the expression most adults wear when they look at her. 

  “You aren’t, Joan,” Miss Aragon said patiently. “It’ll stop in a few days.”

Joan squirmed again, wanting it to stop now. She looked up at Miss Aragon helplessly.

  “What did you do?” She asked. “To get yours? How did you sin?”

Miss Aragon sighed and Joan instinctively shrunk away. Instead of being struck, however, her coach eased an arm around her shaking shoulders and pulled her in close against her side.

  “Oh, Joan…” She murmured, stroking her wet hair. “You poor, poor girl…”

Miss Aragon had then gone on to explain the process of the strange word called ‘menstruation’, telling her how she would bleed for four to seven days at a time every month for basically the rest of her life. It sounded awful. How could God curse females with such a horrible bodily function?

The sharp ache in her lower stomach returned like a tug on her small intestines. She put her hand between her legs, but drew no blood (this time). A new feeling rose in Joan’s sore chest, a yearning, an ache. She felt suddenly cold, as if the sun could no longer warm her. This was it, then, the change was here.

Would she still be Joan after it was all over? When she shed the last of her “uterus lining”, as Miss Aragon had said, would she still be herself? Or would she be someone new?

Would being someone new be all that bad?

Joan swiped some looser, fresh clothes from her dresser and then scurried her way into the bathroom. She didn’t want to turn on the lights, so she lit a few candles instead, letting their warm glow fill the small space.

With muscles that were weak with fatigue, she slowly began to undress herself. First her overalls, then her white and baby blue flannel, her cream colored bra, and finally her underwear. The puffy sanitary napkin--a “pad”--that Miss Aragon had put in for her was spotted with large dark red, almost black stains that looked like gross bodily jelly. It was wilting already, so she carefully removed it and replaced it with one of the many others she had been given, remembering how Miss Aragon had told her to always change them whenever she got the chance or she may get sick.

After throwing away the pad she wadded up with toilet paper, Joan stepped into the bathtub and cranked the faucet handle.

Showering was agony.

Although the hot water had offered her a brief respite from the deep, otherworldly chill that had settled into her body, there was no escaping the pain. Each beating droplet against her limbs felt like a fresh wasp sting stabbing into her muscles and the flesh on her stomach, taut and uncomfortably bloated, pulsed and throbbed with agony every time she moved.

Like before a few minutes ago, like at school, she reached between her legs, and it came back sticky and red.

The smell of the blood was pungent and unnatural. It was nothing like real blood at all. It was more like the rot from her deteriorating insides as her sin caused her to rapidly decay. It made her feel sick, so she stuck her hand under the spray of liquid fire shooting out from the shower head and didn’t pull it back until all the blood was gone.

The smell remained on her hand.

Joan scrubbed vigorously between her legs, which seemed to be permanently stained. Crimson would smear across her pale flesh each time her vagina bled again and she did her best to wipe the trails away with an itchy sponge. By the time she finally gave up, her inner thighs felt chafed and raw.

Joan took to just watching the water and beads of soap run down the slightly rusted drain. Slowly, she sat down, knees bent up to her chest, legs spread slightly. Red drools down the floor of the shower to join the suds down into the pipes.

This reminded her of a time when she was eleven and was violently ill in the shower. She remembered looking up, slumped heavily over the rim of the tub, still in all her clothes, and seeing Mama in the doorway. She had been shaking her head, but had a morbidly amused glint in her eyes. Then, chuckling darkly, she was saying, “You shouldn’t have gotten--”

  “--drunk,” Said Joan, her fists clenched determinedly at her sides and her heart hammering in her throat.

The figure in the armchair in front of her turned to look at the doorway and squinted up at her for a moment as though trying to figure out who she was. And then it sagged back into the chair with an air of disappointment. Like it had been expecting someone else, someone better.

Joan stared back through the thick mop of white-blonde hair that had started to hang in her eyes lately because she’d been too lazy to cut it.

She was eleven and standing in the doorway of the house she’d grown up in, feet squared in her tattered shoes (she hadn’t gone and gotten herself a new pair in awhile, though she was long since overdue) and jaw set grimly.

  “...You're what?” Said the figure slowly, her weathered, thick-knuckled hands clutching a periwinkle embroidery and a shiny sewing needle.

  “I’m drunk, Mama,” Joan said again, feeling a thrill that was equal parts excitement and terror run through her from head to toe as she said the scandalous words. She watched those dark eyes apprehensively, dimly aware through the buzz of alcohol that she was shivering.

Later, on nights when she had nothing better to think about (there would be a lot of nights like that), she would dramatize this event in her head. She’d think about what might have happened if she’d been yelled at, or sent to her closet, or even slapped across the face and sent sprawling. It wasn't that she did this to feel sorry for herself, or to pretend that it had been worse than it actually was.

The truth was that all of those outcomes were things she wished had happened more than what actually had.

From the worn-out old armchair, the figure stared at her a moment longer, before simply shaking its head in silent apathy and looking back down at the embroidery.

  “This is why God has left you,” Said Jane Seymour, dismissively.

And then Joan had trudged off, disappointed by the lack of reaction. Usually her Mama would throw an absolute fit over the littlest things she did, but the night she drank alcohol was barren of any dramatics.

An hour later, she would violently heave up all the whiskey she ingested from her system in the shower. It burned more than it did on the way down and made her cry helplessly for her Mama, who knelt by the bathtub and stroked her hair like she was a dog while she threw up all over herself. Mama had cradled her head against her chest when she was finished, mouth and chin still dripping with vomit, and told her what an evil little imp she was in a voice like sweet caramel.

Joan shook her head, scattering droplets across the shower walls and curtain. She looked down and saw a small sea of blood rippling around her feet. Her nose curled in disgust and she backed up further against the back of the tub.

Minutes passed. Joan’s mind was fuzzy and blank for most of the time she sat in the water and her own blood. Her vagina began to hurt at one point and throbbed steadily with her beating heart. 

When it was eventually time to get out, she found that the heat of the water had soaked the energy right out of her, and it took everything in her to get dressed again instead of just curling up naked in a corner of the shower and passing out.

The cuts splattering her figure, those that hadn't scabbed over yet, were gooey and red, the flesh around their edges white and puckered from the water. They burned faintly as she stepped back out of the shower’s steamy shelter and into the cold air of the rest of the house.

The light from the candle flames cast her gaunt features in harsher contrast when she peered into the mirror. Her hollow cheeks nearly became empty holes and her sunken eye sockets were black caves. Still, the shiny blue of her eyes was visible even in the cavernous puncture. The fire’s glow reflected off the stygian liquid steel of rolling droplets over her emaciated frame. 

The sight of the deathlike girl would send anyone but Mama screaming into the night.

------

  “Good news, Kitty!” 

Anne came out of nowhere, flinging her arms around Katherine and causing her to jump. They staggered, nearly falling right over, but managed to stay upright in the crowd of students leaving the school. Katherine laughed.

  “What can it be this time, Annie?” She asked, shifting her backpack onto one shoulder after Anne pulled away.

  “It turns out we are going to college together after all!” Anne declared, smiling widely. “I just got the text last period!”

Katherine felt a surge of happiness go through her, but still couldn’t help but tilt her head. 

  “Wait-- I thought the Royal College of Music turned you down?”

Just saying the school’s name sent flutters of joy and excitement and awe through her. She still couldn’t believe that SHE, Katherine Howard, got accepted into THE BEST music school in England. Maybe even the entire world!! She couldn’t wait until she got to explore the castle-like campus and fulfill her dream of being a real performer, and although she had hoped that her dear cousin and best friend would be a part of that, she didn’t actually think it would have happened.

But here Anne was, shrugging nonchalantly with a radiant look in her dark brown eyes.

  “Yeah, well,” She waved a dismissive hand, “Daddy pulled a few strings and now I’m in.” 

Katherine couldn’t help but chuckle knowingly when her Uncle Thomas was brought up. She could only pray for the poor soul at the Royal College’s administration board that must have met the other end of his needle-sharp words.

  “We get to be roomies together!” Anne said. “Isn’t that great or what?”

  “It’s AMAZING!” Katherine declared, hugging Anne. “I can’t wait!”

The sound of a car broke their embrace and the two of them, along with a few other students in the courtyard, turned to look at the shiny dark blue Ford Mustang honking at the curb. The driver’s side door popped open a second later and a gorgeous young woman, probably twenty or twenty-one, with lush olive skin and curly brown hair came sliding out. She lowered her electric blue Burberry sunglasses and hickory brown eyes swept over the crowd of high school kids in disdainful amusement.

  “CATHY!!” Anne cried gleefully. She launched herself at Catherine Parr and the two immediately melted into a heated kiss. Katherine sputtered a laugh.

  “Classic Anne,” Maria said, coming up beside Katherine with Maggie and Bessie. “Always can’t wait to jam her tongue down her lady’s throat.” She’s elbowed in the ribs by both Katherine and Bessie for that, making her snicker. “What? It’s true!”

  “Come on,” Maggie said, and they all crossed over to the couple. “Alright, children! That’s enough PDA!”

Anne parted from her girlfriend to stick her tongue out at Maggie. Cathy chuckled and turned her gaze to the others.

  “Hello, kids,” She said languidly. 

  “Hey, Cathy,” Katherine smiled at her. The other three greeted the other woman as well. “How are you?”

  “Bitchin’ good,” Cathy rumbled, her lips twitching upwards. The lipstick coating them was a dark red color; Katherine believed it was called “Nibble” if she remembered correctly.

  “Okay, okay, okay,” Anne suddenly said. She perched on the hood of the Ford Mustang and spread her hands out in front of her like she was about to tell a grand fairytale. “Can you guys believe the stunt in the shower earlier?”

Like that, Katherine’s good mood dropped away and icy guilt slammed into her once again. It made her feel so stupid, as all her friends burst into giggles around her, enjoying the funny memory while she just felt sickened by them. Why couldn’t she be more like them?

  “What?” Cathy looked at all of them in confusion. “What happened?”

  “Oh, Joan Seymour happened,” Anne told her. “Sixteen fucking years old and that stupid retard just stood there having her very first period.”

Katherine winced at the use of the slur. Why did it suddenly hurt to hear? She hadn't cared when Maria said it earlier in the pool. Was she just now realizing that it was wrong to say?

  “I think she’s fifteen, actually,” She said.

  “Who cares?” Anne said. “Doesn’t change anything! I knew when I was 9!”

  “Wait--” Cathy said, and then she exclaimed, “Gross! In the shower?”

  “Oh yeah!” Anne nodded her head enthusiastically. “Blood was just dripping down her legs!”

  “All the blood ran into my stall!” Maggie joined in excitedly.

  “And she sat in it!” Bessie added.

  “All while squealing like a fucking pig!” Anne chortled. “WEE WEE WEE WEE!!!”

  “Anne, enough!!” Katherine shouted over all the laughter. “Stop it! It’s not funny!”

Anne looked at her and then said, “Hey, you guys! Stop! Stop! Kit is right. It’s not funny.”

All the giggling died away instantly. Katherine breathed out a sigh of relief--

  “It’s fucking hilarious!”

--that was quickly replaced with a sharp intake of breath.

Anne slung an arm around her shoulders. “Aww, sweetie!” She nuzzled her cheek with her nose. “There’s a runt in every litter! A nobody. And our nobody,” She chuckled darkly, “is Joan.”

------

The smell of freshly baked bread hit Joan’s nose when she walked down the stairs and her stomach growled so loud it caught Mama’s attention in the kitchen. Her face flashed dark red, her blush bright against the pale backdrop of her white-blonde hair, and Mama chuckled in amusement.

  “Someone’s hungry,” Mama said.

  “J-just a little…” Joan stammered shyly.

She really, really was, though. She skipped lunch because she had left school and hadn’t eaten since breakfast, which had just been two pieces of plain toast, but she felt like she was starving. Like it’s been a lot longer since she ate anything. She set her hands on her lower belly and wondered if hunger was another bitter side effect of menstruation.

  “Joan?” Mama noticed the way she was holding her stomach. “Is your tummy alright, darling?”

Joan felt an intense flash of fear 

(she knows she knows she knows she knows she knows she knows)

lance through her and she inhaled sharply. She nodded, dropping her hands limply to her side.

  “I’m okay, Mama,” She said. “Just hungry.”

  “Dinner will be ready soon,” Mama told her. Joan could smell the casserole in the oven and her stomach growled again. “Why don’t you go wash your hands and set the table?”

Joan nodded and hurried to wash her hands off in the kitchen sink before retrieving the plates and utensils from various cabinets. She took them to the dining room, a dimly lit room filled with more crosses than anywhere in the entire house. A huge iron one hung above the table, where Jesus’ petrified face of agony could always leer down at her when she was trying to eat. The only other decoration was a wooden picture frame laying face-down on a small shelf. Joan glanced at it and remembered the last time it had been filled by...

...a photograph of Mama’s wedding.

It had been a bright and sunny day, with white clouds floating over the wedding ceremony. In the picture, the newlyweds were standing on the top of the stone stairs leading to the chapel. Above their heads was a tall arch decorated with beautiful white roses, handpicked by the maid of honor. The bride and groom held each other’s hands, the picture of matrimonial bliss. 

This was the first time Joan actually saw what Daddy Henry looked like. Mama didn’t talk about him very much, and when she did, it wasn’t ever in a good way.

But these two in the picture looked so happy.

Daddy Henry’s wedding tuxedo had to be one of the largest ever designed. He was herculean, with a behemoth body and golden blonde hair. Dazzling sapphire blue eyes stood out brightly in the photo, so much like Joan’s own. He had a massively wide smile on his bearded face, grasping his bride’s hands in his own huge ones. 

Mama was in a beautiful white gown gown that hugged her every curve, with sterling silver feathers sewn into the sleeves and into the frills of the wedding dress. Her lips were painted ruby red and were curled up into a blissful smile as she leaned into the wall of muscle that was her husband, her hands lost within Daddy Henry’s colossal grip.

...Were these really her parents?

Joan had found the photo hidden behind one of Jesus’s birth when she accidentally broke the frame while playing. She was ten at the time, and itching for mischief, so she hid the photo from Mama, despite all the questions she wanted to ask. 

It had been a complete accident that Mama found out she had it, when she saw it in her room after she forgot to put it away.

For a long time, Mama didn’t speak after she found the photo. She just gripped it tightly and stared at it with wide, bulging eyes.

  “Where did you find this?” 

Joan flinched at the edge in her voice. Trembling, she stuttered, “I-I broke a picture frame a little while ago. You didn’t notice, so I picked up the broken glass so that we wouldn’t get hurt. I found it behind the picture of baby Jesus.”

Mama took several deep breaths that did little to calm her. Joan swallowed thickly.

  “M-maybe it could help us look for him?” She said timidly.

Turning abruptly, Mama stormed out the bedroom and downstairs. Joan ram after her, crying, “Wait! Mama!”

Mama strode into the lounge and began roughly throwing firewood into the fireplace. Joan skidded to a stop behind her, her eyes wide.

  “Mama!” She shouted. “Stop! We have to find Daddy!”

But Mama didn’t stop. She just kept tossing in wood until the fireplace was full, then moved to dousing the logs with an alarming amount of lighter fluid. Joan lunged forward and grabbed her arm as she lit a match and flicked it in. The flames roar to life instantly, illuminating the cold look in Mama’s golden eyes.

  “No.” She hissed, and then threw the photo into the fire.

  “NO!!!” Joan screeched.

She threw herself at the fireplace, dropping to her knees and shoving her hands into the burning logs. Flames licked at her skin and she howled in pain, but didn’t pull back until she grabbed the smoldering remains of the photograph. It disintegrated in her fingers and she wailed in anguish right before Mama grabbed her by the shoulders and yanked her backwards.

  “What are you doing?!” Mama cried. Her eyes are even wider now, and Joan saw that she was scared. The smell of burned flesh hung heavily in the air.

  “That was going to help us find Daddy!” Joan yelled, tears running down her cheeks. Her hands hurt so badly. Pink and scarlet criss crossed together over her charred skin. “We were gonna find him and he was gonna come back!!”

  “No he wasn’t, Johanna!”

  “WHY?!”

  “BECAUSE THERE IS NOTHING KEEPING HIM AWAY!!”

In an instant, the scalding hot blood in Joan’s veins turned to ice-water. She started to comprehend the implication of Mama’s words, and the tears came out from her eyes faster and faster. She wilted like a daffodil, crossing her burnt hands in front of her chest and grabbing her arms, squeezing them tightly as she bowed her head and doubled over on her knees. The crown of her skull cracked against the hardwood, sprawling her hair like a waterfall of white-gold all over the floor. 

  “No… No… No...” She wept again and again.

  “He doesn’t want you, Joan,” Mama said ruefully. “He didn’t even want me.” She took a deep breath, sadness etched in the grooves of her words. “He doesn’t want either of us.”

Mama knelt and took Joan into her arms, rocking her slowly. Joan tried to grip onto her, but just let out a pained wail when she moved her hands.

  “Mama!” She cried. “Mama, it hurts! It hurts!”

  “Oh, my poor baby,” Mama said sadly. “Shh… It’s going to be okay, my darling angel. It’s going to be okay, Joan…”

  “...Joan? Joan?”

Joan jolted, backpedaling into her mother, who looked concerned. Mama gently cupped her cheeks.

  “My dear angel,” She murmured, “what’s wrong?”

(tell her tell her tell her)

Joan swallowed thickly. “S-something happened at school today. Something terrible...”

Mama frowned and brushed a loose strand of hair out of Joan’s face. “Terrible things are the Lord’s way of testing us, Joan.” She said wisely.

  “I know, Mama, but the other girls--”

  “You aren’t like the other girls.” Mama cut her off.

  “But I am, Mama! I am!” Joan said. “I never thought so, but--”

  “You aren’t, Joan. You aren’t. You’re special.” Mama’s lips twitched slightly. “Special.”

  “You aren’t listening to me, Mama…”

  “I’ve heard all I wanted to hear, now finish setting the table, please.” Mama said. She glided past Joan and went back into the kitchen to check on the casserole. Joan slowly laid out the plates, then looked over her shoulder.

(tell her tell her tell her)

  “Mama, in the showers today…”

Mama whipped around instantly, her eyes suddenly lit up like hot coals. Joan thought she might have seen a flicker of fear somewhere in there, too.

  “What have I told you about showering with the other girls?” Mama said.

  “I know, but--” Joan floundered.

  “What have I told you?” Mama shouted.

  “It’s a sin! It’s a sin!” Joan gave in.

  “And as such--”

  “But Mama--”

  “It is--”

  “I STARTED TO BLEED!!”

Silence.

Stillness.

The platter Mama had been holding slipped from her fingers and shattered against the wooden floor. White and blue pieces exploded out in every direction. A few chunks cut Mama’s slipper-clad feet and ankles, and blood slowly began to bud out like blooming roses in May, but Mama did not move. Or flinch. Or even blink. She just stared very intently at Joan like she was hoping she would burst into flames if she leered hard enough.

And then, her face did something strange. It twitched, like all her expressions were falling off one by one, so it looked like a mask for a moment. Then, the skin rippled and creased and wrinkled, and her soft features were eroded away by furious and sinister ones. A sick white light ignited behind her golden brown eyes, like twin lightning bugs of insanity inside the sockets. Joan backed up against the dining room table with a whimper.

  “Mama, I started to bleed in the showers and the other girls-- they laughed at me and called me names and threw things at me!” She said woefully. “I was so scared, Mama! I thought I was dying!”

Mama’s face twitched again, and this time her head jerked a little with it. The veins in her neck bulge out of the flesh and pulsed monstrously. Her eyes suddenly looked a lot less golden brown and a lot more brown-red.

  “Mama, why are you looking at me like that?” Joan asked softly, quaking.

  “The curse of blood,” Mama said quietly. There’s an awful, dry chuckle edging her words. Joan blinked like an oblivious pure white heifer about to be sacrificed to God.

  “Mama, you’re scaring me…”

Mama’s entire head twitched this time and then, a split second later, she’s striding across the kitchen with her right hand held high. Joan didn’t have any time to react before she was backhanded across the jaw by pointy, spike-like knuckles. She yelped out in pain and shock, tottering sideways and careening right into one of the dining table chairs. Her body unceremoniously crumpled into it, and she and the chair both crashed to the ground in an ungraceful heap.

  “You’re a woman now,” Mama said above her. Her eyes are wide and gleaming, but there’s no emotion in them. “Pray to heaven for your wicked soul.”

  “Wh-what did I do?” Joan stammered, rolling over onto her back. She could already feel her jaw welling up with a fresh bruise. “M-Miss Aragon said it’s something all girls go through. Even y--”

Mama hit Joan again, and blood splattered out in a bright red line across the floor. Joan whimpered sharply, tears of pain springing to her eyes. Her tongue instinctively flicked out against her newly busted lip and it stung in response to being licked.

  “And God made Eve from the rib of Adam,” Mama said like she was in a trance. “And Eve was weak and loosed the raven on the world. And the raven was called Sin and the first Sin was the Sin of Intercourse. So the Lord visited Eve with a Curse and the Curse was the Curse of Blood.” She leaned down to Joan and her words were suddenly washed with potent venom, “Say it, woman.”

  “No, Mama--”

Joan was struck a third time. Smears of her blood are left on Mama’s knuckles.

  “Say it!” Mama bellowed.

  “No!” Joan cried. She turned sharply and scrambled away, but Mama pursued her and delivered a kick to her ribs that sent her sprawling on her back.

  “And Adam and Eve were driven out of the Garden and into the World and Eve found that her belly had grown big with child.” Mama droned on. She lifted her foot and pressed it down on Joan’s stomach, pinning her to the ground. Joan yowled in pain when a cramp seized her at that very moment, deepening her anguish even further. “And there was a second Curse, and this was the Curse of Childbearing, and Eve brought forth Cain in sweat and blood.”

  “Mama!” Joan sobbed. The tears were flowing free without resistance, now, and creating small pools on either side of her head. “Mama! Stop it, please! Listen to me!!”

But Mama did not listen. She just leaned down, applying more pressure to Joan’s poor belly, like she was hoping to make all the blood come out now. Joan threw her head back and screamed in pain.

  “And following Cain, Eve gave birth to Abel, having not yet repented of the Sin of Intercourse. And so the Lord visited Eve with a third Curse, and this was the Curse of Murder. Cain rose up and slew Abel with a rock. And still, Eve did not repent, nor all the daughters of Eve, and upon eve did the Crafty Serpent found a kingdom of whoredoms and pestilence.”

  “Mama, listen!!” Joan yelled. “Stop! It wasn’t my fault!”

  “And Eve was weak,” Mama said flatly. “Say it.”

  “N-o!” Joan squirmed underneath her mother. Her hands, rough and scarred permanently from the burns she got five years ago, flew up and grabbed Mama’s leg. Two of her fingernails jabbed into one of the cuts on Mama’s ankle she got from the glass and Mama jerked away with a hiss.

  “You vile demon!!” She screeched.

Joan fled as quickly as she could, but Mama went after her, just like last time. Just like all the other times. 

(if i had a nickle for every time she made me cry in here...)

Her wrists are seized and they both fall to their knees on the floor in the lounge. The impact rattled Joan’s frail body and she could feel more blood drip out onto the sanitary napkin in her underwear.

  “Mama, let me go!!” Joan cried frantically. She struggled, but her Mama was much stronger than she was and was able to restrain her. Mama’s body hunched over her, her belly pressed against her rigid spine, practically crushing her frail daughter. “Please! Please, Mama! I’m sorry!!”

  “Say it, woman,” Mama whispered harshly in her ear, her words biting like serpents.

Joan sniffled and, with words that were thick with blood from her busted lip, choked out shamefully, “And Eve was weak.”

The grip on her wrists loosened slightly. Mama’s hot breath tickled her ear when she breathed out a dark laugh. A sloppy, halfhearted kiss was pressed to her temple.

  “Good girl,” Mama whispered breathily. She leaned back and twisted Joan around so they would be facing each other, but did not release her child from her ironclad grip. 

  “Mama, why didn’t you tell me?” Joan asked. Her icy blue eyes are filled with tears and sorrow, so much sorrow. “I was so scared, Mama. I thought I was dying!”

Mama shook her head and looked up ruefully. She squeezed Joan’s hands together and exclaimed hugely, “O Lord! Help this sinning woman beside me here see the sin of her days and ways!”

  “Stop it, Mama--” Joan squirmed uncomfortably.

  “Show her that if she had remained sinless the Curse of Blood never would have come on her!” Mama brayed on.

  “Mama--” Joan whined. “Mama, please stop! I don’t understand! What did I do?” She squirmed harder. “Mama, let me go!!”

Mama shook Joan violently, then drew her in close, eyes flashing. 

  “Ask for forgiveness of your sin.”

  “No, Mama.” Joan said, swallowing thickly. “I didn’t sin, you sinned. You didn’t tell me and they laughed.”

That was the wrong thing to say.

Darkness overtook Mama’s features like the black clouds of a thunderstorm. Her face twisted with disgust, and she suddenly looked like she hated her child with every inch of her being. She dug her fingernails deep into Joan’s brittle wrists.

  “I did not.” She hissed lowly. “I did not--sin.” She carved off chunks of Joan’s flesh with her nails. “Go to your closet and pray.”

Joan stiffened, her eyes bulging hugely in her skull. She whimpered and shook her head, shrinking down into herself.

  “No, Mama,” She whispered fearfully. She could see her prayer closet from the lounge, the door fitted underneath the staircase. It was cramped and dark and hot in there, just how Mama liked it for her. “D-don’t wanna go…” She couldn’t look away from it.

  “Pray.” Mama said. “Ask for forgiveness.”

  “Please, Mama,” Joan begged, looking up at her mother desperately. “P-please don’t make me go. I-I don’t wanna go. I’m sorry!”

But Mama’s uncaring look of hatred did not change, and inky black dread poured out through Joan’s organs like a thick, dark oil spill. Her breathing began to hitch and pick up, but Mama didn’t seem to care about her worsening panic attack.

  “Please, Mama,” Joan wheedled hoarsely. “I-- I’ll bring the Stones again!”

This time, it was Mama’s turn to look scared. But then it morphed into intense enmity and she began to beat Joan senselessly towards the closet.

  “You monster!” She howled. “You spawn of the devil! Why must I be so cursed?!”

  “The Stones!” Joan yelled as she was kicked and hit and slapped. She rolled to the side, but Mama beat her back down to the floor, slowly getting her closer and closer to the wretched, evil closet. “I’ll bring the Stones, Mama! I’ll bring the Fire!” 

And then a powerful kick drove into her belly and her words pitched into a shriek of agony. 

  “MAMA!!” Joan screamed. “MAMA-- MAMA, STOP!! IT HURTS!! Y-YOU-- IT HURTS!!!”

Mama grappled onto Joan’s arms and began dragging her across the floor to the closet. Even with the sharp, unbearable pain in her stomach, Joan fought her, kicking and struggling and screaming bloody murder, but it was futile. Mama shoved Joan into the prayer closet and slammed the door shut, locking it tightly.

   “NO!!” Joan shrieked. She threw herself at the door, causing it to rattle heavily on its hinges. “Mama, let me go!!”

  “Pray, little girl!” Mama ordered. Madness curled from her lips like poisonous vipers. “Pray!”

  “Please, Mama!!” 

But Mama did not let her go. Her footsteps retreated somewhere into the house and Joan sunk to the floor, weeping. Panic started sticking to her lungs like black tar, making it harder and harder to breathe. 

Mama was so angry… What if she never let her out? 

Dread sped up her thoughts, racing through her veins, filling her with desperation. 

No one would even hear her screams, her last dying words, her final prayers…

She began to wheeze, the thick, musty air brushing against her lips. The oppressive stench of her own fear and blood and piss from other times in the closet burned her nose.

Would the neighbors notice? Would they even care? 

Pain lighted in her belly again as her chest contracted with her heavy breaths. 

Would her teachers, so quick to look away from her black eyes and limping figure, even call and ask where she was?

Joan began to scratch on the door, the frame, the hinges, scrambling to escape, her instincts pitching her action into a fury of movement. 

What would they say when her body was finally discovered, a rotting corpse hidden in the darkness of a closet made for holy purposes? Perhaps she would be the talk of the town, even more than usual. The poor Seymour kid, whose Mama went mad after her husband left and God could no longer satisfy her. Who killed her only child, slowly starving her tiny daughter to death one evening while she sewed a new blouse for a customer at the laundromat and listened to her religious music.

Joan’s fingernails scratched harder, grazing the wooden confines of her holy coffin. She could feel the warmth of her blood as the nails began to tear and break, smell the copper of her panic, leaving thin lines of crimson as she clawed frantically.

What if she didn’t starve to death? What if she suffocated? Could that happen? No, she’d read about that before. There was enough air filtering in here, probably. She’d die of dehydration first. Already she could feel her throat constrict, dry and callous, an arid lining of flesh. Spots of light pricked her vision. Tears ran down the side of her bruised face, mingling with the sweat now coating her skin. She felt clammy and cold, yet suddenly too hot, as if in a fever.

  “Mama, let me out!” She begged coarsely, the words scratching at her throat.

She could take the hitting or yelling or cursing. Anything but this. 

  “Mama…” 

Joan slumped to her side, shuddering. She looked up and gazed around at the horrors that littered the closet. There were so many paintings of Jesus’s death, all in great, graphic detail. When she was little, they used to give her awful nightmares about evil men nailing her to a cross or Jesus’s bloodied body chasing her through a ruined dreamscape, welding a wicked-looking crucifix made of barbed wires and yelling at her to join him on his cadaverous crucible.

They still gave her nightmares, she hated to admit.

The dead eyes of Christ bore down on Joan’s pathetic, shaking frame. Jesus’s face was contorted into the same expression of disgust and pain as Mama’s had been, like even he knew that she was the worst thing to ever grace God’s green earth. She curled into a tight ball on the floor, not wanting to meet his scornful gaze anymore, and began to pray through her haze of tears.

------

Moonlight cast silver streams on Anna’s smooth, glowing skin, making her look like a goddess of the night above Katherine. Her soft touch sent pangs of pleasure crackling through Katherine’s body like lightning bolts of lust, soothing her mind of all its worries with her warmth. Everything felt good and okay and wonderful again when Anna was with her, holding her, talking to her, loving her. She thought that nothing could possibly bring her down when her girlfriend was there by her side.

And yet, she still couldn’t get the image of Joan Seymour’s naked body covered in blood on the floor out of her head.

Katherine sighed heavily and Anna pulled back, blinking.

  “Am I really that bad?” She said, then looked at her fingernails, inspecting them closely. “I thought I got them down to the perfect length this time…”

Katherine managed to laugh. “No, it’s not you, you big silly,” She nudged her playfully. “It’s--something else…”

Anna tilted her head. “What is it?” Worry flashed across her expression and Katherine couldn’t help but feel a flutter of love flap in her chest. She loved when her girlfriend got like this, all concerned over her, even over the littlest things. “Are you alright?”

  “I’m fine,” Katherine said. She pushed herself up into a sitting position with a sigh. “It’s just-- I did something...not good today.”

  “Oh no,” Anna gasped. “Not good?”

Katherine shoved her. “I’m serious!”

Anna laughed slightly. “I know! I know!” She said. “Come on, tell me about it.”

They got dressed and stepped out of Anna’s red Jeep so Katherine could get some fresh air that would hopefully help her tell the shameful story. It was a warm spring night and they were parked on the side of a small grove that had a trail that led to a hiking trail and some camping grounds. Katherine ducked under a tree that was wrapped in blooming vines of pink-white dog roses, pale ghost petals shivering in the breeze. Anna came up beside her and they both sat on a low-hanging branch that was practically grown for the purpose of sitting and telling your girlfriend about the awful bullying you participated in today.

  “Did you...hear about the Joan Seymour incident today?” Katherine eventually choked out hesitantly.

Anna actually thought for a moment, as if a fifteen year old girl getting her first period and thinking she was dying hadn’t been the talk of the entire school.

  “Vaguely, yeah,” She finally said. “I don’t get into that kind of drama, though. I tend to stay away from it, you know?”

Katherine did know, and that sent fear ricocheting through her body when she remembered it. Of course Anna didn’t like discourse- she’s told her several times before! How could she be so stupid?

Anna peered at her closely, and she knew it was too late to turn back now.

  “What does Joan Seymour and her period have to do with you?” Anna asked her.

Katherine swallowed thickly. Fear pounded heavily at her brain, fear of Anna breaking up with her when she told her and leaving her all alone--but didn’t she deserve that? What she did was horrible. She didn’t deserve a girlfriend after harassing a poor little girl, ESPECIALLY when she herself was eighteen and technically an adult.

  “I--” Her words caught in her throat for a moment, but Anna’s patient, loving gaze made them all come tumbling out. “I was in there. With her. In the locker room.” She lowered her head in shame. “I--yelled at her with everyone…”

Anna just looked at her for a long time, moonlight glinting in her caramel brown eyes and making them look like they were glowing. Then, she sucked in an impressed breath and said, “You’re right. Not good.”

Katherine felt a cold slicing of fear slash through her, but then Anna’s grave expression shifted into a thoughtful smile. She ran a hand down an ivy-coiled section of the tree and mused, “I kicked a kid in the ribs one time.”

Katherine blinked at her. 

  “I did!” Anna said, then shook her head and chuckled at the memory. “Reed Mulligan. Big white kid who’ll probably grow up to be a robber or something. Anyway, he beat the shit out of me once in Year 7. And then, in Year 8, he picked on the wrong kid and got his ass handed to him. Everyone ran when he dropped to the ground, but first I gave him a good kick in the ribs. Felt terrible about it afterward.” She peered at Katherine closely. “Are you gonna apologize to her?”

Katherine snorted dryly. “Did you apologize to Reed Mulligan?”

  “Hell no!” Anna said. “But there’s a big difference, Kat.”

  “There is?”

  “This isn’t Secondary School anymore.” Anna said. A flurry of snowy pink petals swirled down from the tree and over their shoulders. “What did Joan Seymour ever do to you?”

------

The prayer closet lock clicked and the door creaked open after seven long hours. Joan stopped crying for her Mama after the first hour and fell silent for the rest, not even asking to eat or go to the bathroom. Probably because she was asleep, curled up into a little ball on the floor, pillowing her head with her arms. Mama knelt down to her, setting one hand on her shoulder and raking the other through her white-blonde hair. Joan’s eyes shot open instantly, and they seemed to glow in brilliant shades of blue in the candlelight.

  “Did you finish your prayers, little girl?” Mama asked.

Joan nodded.

  “That’s my good girl,” Mama cooed. She kissed Joan’s cheek, saying nothing about the dark indigo bruise bloomed on her jaw. “It’s time for bed.”

  “Yes, Mama,” Joan whispered. Slowly, she uncoiled from her position on the floor, shaking out her numb limbs as she did so. Mama watched her with a sharp eye as she rose to her feet.

  “Joan?”

  “Yes, Mama?”

Mama took a deep breath and stood up, practically towering over her little daughter.

  “I know I sometimes do things that I can’t explain,” She said, “but know that my feelings for you never change. Even--if you have sinned.”

Joan winced, but she shook her head and managed to smile wryly up at her mother. 

  “Mama, you don’t have to say that,” She said. “You love me. You don’t need to ask for forgiveness from me. I know you do what you have to.”

  “Yes,” Mama said slowly, nodding. “We have no one except each other, Joan.”

Joan shivered. Her heart ached fiercely in her chest, and she so badly wanted to believe that that wasn’t true, that there was someone out there who wanted her, but she knew that was just wishful thinking. Fifteen years, and the only person who didn’t throw her away was her Mama.

  “I’m the only one who cares about you.” Mama said. “No one will ever love you except me.” She cupped Joan’s cheeks and looked at her with maddening adoration and love flickering in her eyes. “You will always be a monster to everyone else.”

And Joan nodded, knowing this would always be true, and whispered, “Yes, Mama.”

[the-bard-followed-the-witcher]

High school AU Geraskier

(So this kinda started off as script and then turned into this??? Idk how this happened)

It was a warm summer afternoon. The air was filled with the smell of freshly blooming flowers, stuck in a world that was too hot and yet exactly the right temperature, a world filled with softness and warmth. With comfort.

And in the midst of it a musician, a creative. A guitar and a teenage boy singing; a couple notes a bit off but good enough for the small crowd of girls gathered around the plastic table in the school yard. Good enough for him. Because when he was playing his guitar with a new song like the old legends, with a new melody, his voice wasn’t what it was about, no, it was about passion and it was about warmth. It was about feelings that blossomed and bloomed. And for some moments, some eternities that was exactly what it was, all that was. For Jaskier sometimes all the world was was a warm sound and the humming of sun rays. The girls were really just another little bonus of following ones dream. It wasn’t like he was actively trying to get them to notice him. They just did. And that was nice. He surely wouldn’t complain about a little audience.

He liked the attention, that much he could admit. It was simply nice to be seen.

So he continued humming his tunes in the school yard of a school that was too small for dreams and he continued to show his soul in a company that only saw a price and he continued, after all there was only one person he wanted to be seen by.

And the girls wooed over him, sighed with every time he sang of legends, of a hero from another lifetime, blinked up at him, at a teenage boy and a guitar sitting on a plastic table. His attention was all they wanted, all they only got when he finished performing his newest piece.

The melody got lost in a warm summer day as the guitar stopped playing. Finally blue eyes looked upon the world again, the real world. It was easy to get lost in legends. Jaskier allowed the little smirk on his lips to linger for a moment longer, the three girls held their breath. Whom would he gift his attention to first? For the most part Jaskier let fate decide. He lowered his gaze at one of the girls, his smirk now a fond smile, one he knew the girls adored, and let his charm do the rest.

“So, ladies, What do you think?” He let his gaze wander over the other two girls. All three he had seen in his classes before. One was part of this years play. He’d have to be careful with interacting with that one. He wouldn’t want to ruin their theatre piece with something as silly as broken hearts. He made sure to give her half a second longer of a smile than the others. Small but significant.

The girls all started talking at the same time, praises stumbled over praises, compliments stumbled over compliments, flirtation stumbled over flirtation.

Jaskier gave them another smile, this time one more real. He put his guitar beside himself.

“Are you sure it’s that good? You are not just trying to protect my feelings are you? I’m a big boy i can take criticism.” The girls giggled at that before staring at the shyest of smiles again. For a second all there was was gentleness and buzzing of bees and warmth.

The theatre girl was the first to answer.

“I think it’s brilliant, really! I could almost see the hero in front of my eyes! How he swung his sword all to protect a dragon and it’s egg.” For a second she seemed just as lost in the story as Jaskier had been earlier. In a world long gone, one that had perhaps never existed at all. Not in this universe, not in this reality.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it so much, princess.” Blue eyes brought the lost girl back to what was real. A blush followed. Nicknames surely had an effect on girls these days. She lowered her gaze but red ears were just as easily noticed. For such a confident girl she was easily flustered. It was cute. Jaskier kept his eyes closely on her.

The other two girls, encouraged by the others reaction, started praising him again and this time he couldn’t resist the little laughter tickling in his throat. He let it follow his melody into the warm air, throwing his head back just a tiny bit, unaware that that was all it took for the sun to fully embrace him. It caught in his hair and his eyes seemed bluer than the cloudless sky and for a moment he was glowing. Truly glowing. Maybe there really was something magical about a melody and a boy.

Rose grazed cheeks and mouths were agape when the sound of laughter was taken by the wind. Jaskier wasn’t surprised. It wasn’t the first time he gave his soul to a day, it wasn’t the first time this plastic table held his performance. It certainly wasn’t the last time either.

The boy picked up his guitar again and strummed a tune, one that opened the door for another piece. This time one that was older, this time one that he knew by heart. His fingers stopped strumming for as second as he looked at the audience again, expectantly.

“Up for another journey of our favorite hero?” The hero wasn’t who the girls were really interested in, but they still nodded their heads. And it was worth it. Jaskier flashed each of them a grin before strumming the same tune again. One he had played a thousand times before. His first pride. A hero’s beginning.

And as his fingers worked their way through familiar patterns, sky blue eyes closed. A voice tuned in with a first note. It was the only note that reached the outside world. It was the only note that reminded reality of a legend long forgotten and revived. It was the only note before a booming voice was heard washing over the school yard.

„Jaskier!“ the princesses captured in a tower build of melodies, of comfort were ripped from their focus with a jerk. This voice was not one presented often, never loud.

The boy with the guitar simply let his gaze fixate on eyes that were so golden they sometimes appeared yellow. Straw spun to gold by feelings that were barely even noticed. It was a beautiful colour.

At the gate Geralt simply held up a school back Jaskier immediately recognized. Of course the idiot got his back from the hall again. He had told him not to. Geralt rolled his eyes coldly as Jaskier gave him the sign to wait a minute. The singer had a tendency to never be on time. Girls certainly were one reason for that.

Jaskier turned his gaze back to his admirers and gave them another small smile of reassurance.

„It seems, ladies, that i have to leave your lovely company. It was a pleasure really. If the ladies so allow I’d certainly like to have the honor of singing to you again.“ The Words were followed by a wink. One that made the girls swoon again. None of them dared to beg the singer to stay when he jumped of the table swiftly, the guitar already strapped to his back.

But before he gave his full attention to the one waiting, he turned once more looking at the theatre girl directly. One he didn’t know the name of. But really what was a name worth anyway?

„See you in drama class, princess.“ he flashed a grin and left for the gate, away from reddening cheeks and hearts given to him too easily.

He was heading for Geralt, as always. As every warm summer afternoon and every colorful autumn morning and every icy winter day. He was heading for Geralt who already turned away, sure that Jaskier was following him. Who was walking away from him, carrying two school bags at once and whom he always had to catch up with. And he did catch up with, every time. As long as Geralt allowed him to. As long as Geralt allowed him to walk side by side.

He was always heading for Geralt.

[etherealwaifgoddess]

One In A Million - Chpt.5

Summary: In the wake of Rose’s discovery, the trio figures out how to move on together. Rose’s growing feels throw a wrench in their plans however, making them reassess what they are, and what they want to be, to each other.

Word Count: 3.1k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! Did ya’ll like the twist last chapter? You didn’t really think I’d just *poof* her back to modern times, did you? She still has a long way to go with our boys and we’re just getting started. XOXO - Ash

Chapter Five

Neither Bucky or Steve seem to know where to start. Steve brewed some truly terrible coffee for the three of you and you’re thankful for the warm cup in your hands helping to steady your nerves. Bucky and Steve are seated on opposite ends of the sofa while you occupy the padded chair across from them. It’s divisive, you and them, and you hate it but don’t want to push boundaries for this conversation.

“I’m not going to tell anyone. You have to know that I would never do that to you guys.” you assure them. 

Steve lets out a shaky breath, “Thank you, Rose.” 

“You’re not nearly as sneaky as you think you are either. I’ve caught those sweet little looks you give each other when you think I’m not looking. You’re adorable, the both of you.” 

Bucky cringes slightly, “Told ya, punk.” he chastises Steve who just rolls his eyes.

“You’re just as guilty.” you point out.

“Yeah, but you see how pretty Stevie is. How’s a guy supposed to keep his head around him?” 

Steve’s whole face lights up at his words and he fidgets for a minute before gathering up the nerve to move seats to sit next to Bucky. Tucked under Bucky’s protective arm, Steve seems to fully relax for the first time since you all sat down. You dare to move over to the empty sofa seat next to him, hoping he doesn’t shy away from you. He doesn’t and you give him a grateful smile.

“So, how long have you been together?” you ask, curious. 

Bucky chuckles, “Since about the second this one turned those gorgeous blue eyes on me the first time. I didn’t know what to think about it then but as soon as I was old enough to know what it was to really want someone, I knew he was it for me.” 

“Buck.” Steve preens under Bucky’s affection, “I love you.” He huffs a laugh, “Never said that to you in front of anyone else before.” 

“I love you too.” Bucky presses a soft kiss to Steve’s temple and pulls him even closer. “Rose, I have to ask. Why are you so okay with this?”

The truth burns in your chest but know you can’t share it. “I just don’t see why someone’s gender should matter when it comes to love or attraction. We’re all just people.” 

“Do you… have you…? You don’t have to tell us, but do you like other girls?” 

“No, I like men. I tried being with a girl in college but it wasn’t for me.” 

“You really are one in a million.” 

“So, now that it’s out of the way, you two can stop asking me out dancing.” you tease.

Bucky and Steve share hesitant glances. “Uh, well, we don’t have to.” Steve says quietly.

“I’m fine on my own. I don’t need you two taking me out on a fake date.” 

“It helps though, being seen out with a pretty dame. People talk less. That’s why Bucky has earned such a reputation as a ladies man down at the docks.” 

“Oh! Of course. I’d be happy to go out and be seen with either of you then.” 

“I’d really like to take you. Bucky never has trouble finding a dance partner but it’s been a while for me.” 

“Well you just haven’t been asking the right girls. I would like nothing more than to go dancing with you, Steve.” 

“Tomorrow night?” 

“It’s a date.” 

You take extra time to do your hair and make up before your date with Steve on Saturday. It’s silly since you know he’s not attracted to you in that way, but you want to look your best for him. You’re thankful that he has Bucky who loves him so fiercely despite having to hide it from the world. Adjusting your lipstick one last time you hurry to the door to find Steve waiting patiently on the other side, bouquet in hand. It’s a handful of beautiful white daisies and you’re delighted he put in the effort to bring them for you despite it being a ruse. You thank him, letting him come inside while you hunt for a vase. Steve tugs on the lapel of his tan suit nervously while he waits. It’s the best one he owns and even still it hangs on his slight frame, unable to afford a tailor to adjust it for him. His hair is slicked back like Bucky wears his and it’s glossy in the light of your kitchen. How he has trouble finding dates is beyond you but the other women’s loss is your gain. You will happily be his fake date any night he needs you. 

Bucky is already at the Stork Club when you arrive, sipping a drink at the bar with a date of his own. You wonder how they can stand seeing each other out with another person but when it comes down to life or death, you suppose they don’t have much of a choice. 

Steve really is a terrible dancer. You had expected him to at least be competent but he’s a mess on the dance floor, having stepped on your toes several times before the first song is over. Embarrassed and blushing Steve leans forward to whisper in your ear, “Bucky usually leads when dance at home.” 

“Why didn’t you say so?” you whisper back, “I can lead, no one will be the wiser.” Having enjoyed dance classes at the rec center as a teenager you can just as easily lead as follow. You set the pace to the floating instrumentals that fill the dance hall. A trilling of French flows through the speakers and you recognize the song. La Vie En Rose. It’s impossibly romantic and you lose yourself in the dance. A quiet baritone interrupts your reverie and you realize Steve is singing softly. His voice is beautiful and you’re speechless listening to him as he sings. The song ends and you’re standing still on the dance floor. “The pain and bothers fade away. Happy, so happy I could die.” Steve translates softly, “When he takes me in his arms, he speaks softly to me, and I see life through rose colored glasses.” 

“Steve.” your voice is hushed, breathless with wanting what you can’t have. 

“You’re my rose colored glasses.” he whispers as he moves even closer in your arms. You’re the same height but the small wedge of your heel has him tilting his head up when he leans in and captures your lips with his own. 

It’s as close to perfect as a first kiss could ever get but you find yourself pushing him away. He’s in love with Bucky and you’re just their cover. It’s too much, too painful for your traitorous heart to bear. His name is a harsh admonishment on your lips. You flee the dance hall, stumbling out into the chilly December air, unsure of where to go. You take a minute in the entrance of an alleyway next to the dance hall to clear your head. The clattering of shoes on pavement skid to a halt as Bucky spots you leaning against the brick wall of the alley. 

“I’m sorry.” you sob as Bucky takes you into his strong arms, “I can’t do it. I just… I can’t. It’s not fair to Steve and I’m sorry. But I can’t.” 

“Shh.” Bucky soothes you, rubbing a hand along your back. “It’s alright, Rose. You don’t have to do this for us. Neither one of us will hold it against you.” 

“I’m sorry.” you apologize once again, “I know you’re together and I love that you two are so perfect for one another but Steve is… And I…” you sniffle, unable to piece together the words you need to explain your outburst to Bucky. 

He knows though. “He really is something, isn’t he? It’s impossible not to love him once he lets you really see him. But Rose, this doesn’t have to be a problem.” 

“How can it not be?” you snap, frustrated, “I can’t do this fake dating thing. Not when I’m fighting off very real feelings.” 

“Oh, sweet girl, who said Stevie was faking a thing back there?” 

You blink at him myopically. Your brain struggling to process his words. “But he loves you.” 

“He does. But he’s been smitten with you since the day you saved him in that alley.” 

“I don’t get it.” you shake your head, too stressed and upset to follow what Bucky’s telling you.

“Why not? You can handle two men being together just fine, but someone wanting to share that love with more than one person is too much?” Bucky’s tone is light, teasing, but the weight of his words hit you hard. 

“You want to… share?”

Bucky’s slow, easy smile is back and your knees are weak under its radiance. “Yeah, doll. Stevie and I share nicely. It hasn’t happened very often but when it does, well, we both like dames too. And we always come home to each other in the end. You’re the first we both wanted to pursue though.” 

The last admission has you swaying on your feet. “Both of you.” 

“Yeah, both of us. But you seemed so sweet on Steve, I didn’t push the issue. He deserves a little extra loving, if you ask me.” 

“But what if I wanted… both.” 

Bucky raises his eyebrows almost to his hair line in shock. “You were interested in us both? Before you knew about me and him.” 

“I couldn’t have picked if you held a gun to my head.” you admit with a shrug and a helpless chuckle. 

“Oh, doll, that changes everything.” he murmurs pulling you back into his arms.

You let yourself breathe in the comforting scent of him, basking in it until he pulls away again. “We need to go find Steve.” he tells you gruffly, “Then we can finish this conversation at home.” 

You let Bucky lead you by the hand back to the Stork Club where Steve is talking with Bucky’s date over a tumbler of whiskey. “I found your girl, Rogers.” Bucky calls out cheerfully. 

You smile nervously at Steve, unsure of what to do next.

Bucky pulls his date off to the side for a minute and you can hear him telling her that he’s going to have to call it a night. That his best pal is about to be dumped and he needs to be there for him afterwards. The girl nods sagely, telling him he’s a good man and that maybe she can find a friend for Steve the next time they go out. She hurries off, leaving Bucky, you and Steve staring at each other over the small club table. “Come on you two. We have a lot of talking to do.” Bucky announces, throwing back the rest of the whiskey in one gulp and heading for the door. Steve waits until you move to follow and then falls line a step behind you. 

The walk back to the guys’ apartment is quiet, tension thick in the air. You know of polyamory, it’s not a completely foregin concept in your time, but you never expected to be considering it yourself. If that’s even what Bucky was hinting at. Back inside the safe seclusion of their apartment Bucky heads for the kitchen, rustling around the cupboards until he comes back with a mostly full bottle of scotch and three low tumblers. He pours doubles for you and Steve but a single for himself. “You two need to catch up so we can talk about this.” he instructs, pushing the glasses at you. 

You drink yours down quickly, disliking the burn of cheap scotch now that you knew what the good kind could taste like. It helps though, after a few minutes of idle chit chat you can feel the loosening of your limbs as it takes effect. Bucky fills your glasses again before he finally speaks up. “First things first. Rose, please tell Steve why you ran off so he stops looking like you kicked his dog.” 

You force down your nerves, “I’m sorry for running off. I couldn’t keep pretending to like you when I really did. Like you, that is. I would never do anything to disrupt what you and Bucky have, I care about you both so much. But being out with you tonight was more than I could bear, thinking you were just pretending while I was falling for you for real.” 

“Steve,” Bucky resumes his role as moderator, “Please tell Rose that you weren’t pretending.” 

“Not for a minute.” Steve says earnestly. “Rose, I really do like you. And you wouldn’t be hurting what Bucky and I have at all. We’ve talked about this and it’s not the first time one of us has dated a girl since we’ve been together.” 

“Now for the reason we’re all sitting here. Steve, Rose can’t choose between us.” Bucky sits back with a smug smile as he watches Steve try to process what he’s telling him.

“She can’t choose?” he parrots back.

“She likes us both, pal. Equally.”

“We’ve always hoped we’d find a girl…” Steve trails off, stunned. 

“I know, I know. I never thought we’d get so lucky.” Bucky leans over Steve on the sofa, pulling your hand into his. “So what do ya say, Rose? You wanna give us a chance? You could still only date one us in public but we could all be together behind closed doors. We could still hang out in public as a group, just with one of us as a third wheel.” 

You hate that you’ll have to limit your affections to behind closed doors but it’s the times you’re living in. Steve and Bucky have been doing it their whole lives and yet they’re still happy together after all the years of hiding. You give yourself a minute to think if it’s worth it. Especially knowing the risk you’re running with the timelines. Looking at the two of them, wanting them more than anyone else you’ve ever been with, it seems your heart made up your decision long ago. You nod, your heart and brain aligned. “I want to try.” 

Both men’s faces light up like the sun, “But,” you warn, “the second I think the three of us being together is hurting what the two of you have, I’m out. Permanently. Your relationship comes first no matter what. As much as I want to be part of it, I won’t risk what you have.” 

Bucky and Steve both nod, glancing at each other nervously. 

“Can I…” Steve starts and stops, looking between you and Bucky hesitantly. “Can I have a do over of that kiss?” he asks finally. 

You fight back a laugh. Sweet reckless Steve, always jumping head first into things despite how nervous they make him. “Of course.” you tell him leaning in closer. 

Steve looks back at Bucky one last time before meeting you halfway. He’s less hesitant this time, eagerly slotting his lips with yours before deepening the kiss and slipping his tongue tentatively in your mouth. You’re breathless, dizzy from the kiss and intrusion of his tongue. He tastes like cheap scotch and something deeper, something undeniably Steve. When he pulls back and leans into Bucky’s waiting arms you can’t even think. “So this is happening.” you say lamely before your brain can catch up to your mouth.

Bucky laughs, “Yeah, doll, it is.” he shifts out of his seat and Steve moves into it, leaving the spot next to you open for Bucky to occupy. Bucky brushes a stray lock of hair away from your face, cupping your cheek gently in his hand. “My turn.” he murmurs before moving in to claim your lips for himself. Where Steve was all rush and excitement, Bucky is delicate and slow. He presses his lips to yours like a question, waiting for you to respond before continuing. You meet his kiss happily, lost in the tenderness he’s showing you. It’s impossible not to compare the two, but neither is better than the other, just different. You feel like you’re made of glass the way Bucky is so painfully careful with you, tasting your lips gently, letting you steer the kiss where you want it to go. He tastes like sugar and you giggle a little, it figures with the sweet tooth he’s got. There’s a rawness under the sweetness though, like a campfire and you want to lose yourself in him forever. Bucky pulls back at the sound of your giggle, studying you curiously. 

“You taste like sugar. I should have known with the giant sweet tooth you have.” you explain with a smirk.

Steve nods, knowingly, and Bucky just laughs it off seeing Steve’s agreement. “You’re both crazy.” he tells you. 

“Do you have the whole day free tomorrow?” Steve asks you.

“Yeah, I do. I don’t want to mess up whatever plans you guys have though.” you tell him. 

“Well, you’ve already seen what our day off plans normally are. Walked right in, in the middle as a matter of fact...” Steve grins, the feisty little shit that he is, “But we didn’t have any plans for tomorrow yet. We’re probably just going to stay around here and relax.” 

“Stay with us, darlin’.” Bucky pleads, pulling you into his arms. 

“How can a girl say no to that?” you concede, “But, I insist on taking my guys out properly. I have a spare dollar or two and I want to see that new Wolfman movie that just came out.” 

“You don’t have to do that.” Steve starts to protest.

“I know, but I want to. I would spoil the pair of you rotten if I had my way.” 

“You already do so much for us though.” Bucky chimes in looking concerned.

“I have old family money to fall back on.” you bluff easily, “It’s not a hardship on me and you two deserve a break for once. Let me do this for you.” 

“What d’ya say, Stevie? Want to go see a film tomorrow?” 

Steve nods, smiling, finally getting on board with the plan. “Do we get popcorn?” 

You return his smile, “Of course! And sodas. And red licorice. Maybe snow caps, too.” 

“Sounds perfect.”