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fortheloveoffanfic · 5 years ago

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Lullaby

Keanu Reeves x Reader (Chapter Summary- At a party, Keanu and Y/n meet for the first time and here, more than ever, first impressions count.) Warnings- Age-gap, sexual insinuations (Releases on Wednesdays)

Chapter 1

Y/n never understood it, how she could manage to feel so alone in a crowd so big. Even with friends, the center of attention, just as she had been for so much of her life; the girl who everyone liked, who everyone wanted to be. The offspring of a socialite and the president of a company that ran the world’s fastest growing hotel and resort chain, rubbing elbows with the best of almost every industry. She came from a long line of old money, the finest of everything at her fingertips, being raised to be as influential as her parents, attending the parties, the fashion shows, taking the vacations. Y/n should have been happy, it was the optimum of the American dream and she hadn’t done a thing to deserve it. It was merely the luck of birth. She should have been happy, but she wasn’t, not really. Empty, maybe; she always had a hard time finding the same joy her parents had.

Things had gotten a little better after Y/n had returned from college, re-integrating into the life, but to say that she was truly happy would still be a reach. Sure, her empty laughs weren’t as hollow and her persistent frown had turned into a line, usually painted in deep red, but that was about it, at the end of the night, when everyone left their house, Y/n still just as lonely as she was when they were there.

“The guest list this time is insane,” someone said beside her, her cousin, just about five years older; Jillian. They usually found each at events like that, sticking together, with Jillian typically being the one to pull Y/n into crazy escapades that otherwise weren’t allowed.

Summoning a wide grin that she hoped would reflect pride, Y/n turned to Jillian, who looked much like herself. If their families weren’t so famous, if everyone didn’t know them, people might mistake them for sisters. A beautiful pair, who had been as genetically blessed as they were in every other way, had grown up extremely close, their families’ kinship intertwined; their fathers were brothers and their mothers were sisters, because after all, money was usually only ever attracted to money. At least, that was what they had learned. “It is,” Y/n nodded, “My mom met some people in Paris a few months ago, when she was there for fashion week. Some of the models brought their boyfriends.”

“Ohhh,” Jillian sang, “They must be the hot guys holding the purses. You think their open to infidelity?”

“What about Robert?” Y/n laughed quietly, for real that time. Robert was Jillian’s fiancée, but if they lived in nineteenth century, he might have been called her betrothed, with their relationship coming from family politics rather than love. He was a handsome man, probably in his early thirties, though his snotty demeanor and constant scowl had added another five years to his age. Robert’s family, like their own had descended from riches, and he was set to inherit millions in addition to a chain of companies. His still new relationship with Jillian, which had been an arranged one, was what their parents liked to call a “good match” and if Y/n didn’t start looking soon, she might be half of the next one.

“What about him?” Jillian scoffed, rolling her eyes, “Rob usually has a stick so far up his ass that he’s blinded to everything else. Besides, he’s terrible in bed. We tried once and he kept licking my cheek.”

“That’s....really fucking weird,” Y/n cringed, walking arm in arm with Jillian around the edges of the room as they surveyed the crowd, or rather, its selection of men. Looking around, one might have thought that money could by looks; most of the people there, especially the ones around their age were gorgeous; from models to movie stars along with other, pretentious looking faces filled the Y/n’s home. Some lingered in the grand foyer while several others had gathered in the dining room and in the living room on the other side. “He’s hot,” Y/n pointed out a man near one of the bars, holding a wine glass, talking with an older couple.

Jillian hummed in agreement, “He is,” she giggled, “And look at his hands, that means he has a big dick, right?”

Y/n shrugged, “I guess, but I thought it was shoe size,” she frowned, in all actuality, stumped on the issue.

“I don’t know. But at this point, it doesn’t matter, I just need to get laid,” Jillian grabbed Y/n’s hand, their fingers lacing as they placed their wine glasses on the table, “Come on,” she pulled her along towards their prey.

Keanu stood near a set of stairs, caught in conversation with people he didn’t even know. He didn’t know why he had accepted the invitation, maybe it was because when his manager had gotten the call, his publicist had insisted it wasn’t an invitation he could reject. They were too much of a prominent family, not going might have seemed like a snub which would only mean months of bad press.

So, there he was, faking smiles and pretending to like everyone. Keanu had only been there for about an hour, and he had yet to meet the hosts but already he could tell he wouldn’t like them. Who threw black tie parties in the middle of he week without any foreseeable cause anyway? Worse yet, their house screamed ‘pretentious snobs’; reflecting the highest levels of French luxury. Walls lined with art from internationally famed artists framed shiny marble floors which in turn surrounded a grand staircase with a glittering chandelier hanging above. Two hallways stretched into a seemingly never-ending distance and the rooms on either side of the foyer were enormous, decked with imported furniture and cream and gold embellishments. It was the kind of place that made people scared to sit anywhere, that looked as if it belonged in a magazine or on display. There was no personality, no one thing that might reminded the guests that it was a family’s home.

Keanu couldn’t wait to get home, and hopefully, never get invited to another one of their parties ever again. With a heavy sigh, he wiggled his way out of yet another polite conversation, “Excuse me,” he cleared his throat, already stepping away, “I’m gonna head to the bar.” His leave was greeted with stiff nods, polite smiles and empty promises that they would all talk soon.

Keanu journeyed to the bar, carefully avoiding any other interaction; he didn’t think he could stand anymore eye-rolling conversation without some sort of intoxicating buffer.

As Y/n scurried to follow Jillian her hand had eventually slipped out of her cousin’s. Gigging too much to pay attention to her surroundings, she ran straight into someone, “Oh my god,” she gasped, barely evading their spilt drink; her mother might have had a heart attack if Y/n ruined her brand new dress, it had been a gift from the designer himself. For a minute, she watched as the whiskey made a pool near the edges of the navy blue silk and Y/n even had to lift her dress a little to spare it. Thankfully though, the glass hadn’t fallen too, else that might have been worse. With her eyes still cast to the floor, she was given the opportunity, Y/n was given the opportunity to look at the other party’s shoes; a pair of worn brown boots that looked like they were more suited to hiking as oppsed to attending elaborate parties in Beverly Hills, “I’m so sorry about that,” Y/n mumbled, her eyes travelling up, settling on his face. She almost had to stifle a gasp, never in a million years would she expect to see him at one of her parents’ parties, it didn’t seem like his style. Then again, she didn’t know him, not personally. Longish dark hair framed a handsome face, ending just above broad shoulders and his trimmed beard peppered with hints of grey handsomely complimented chocolate eyes. You’d have to be living under a rock to have never heard of him. Keanu Reeves.

He smiled at her warily, finding it a little cute that she stood several inches below him, “It’s fine,” he waved her off, “Maybe I’ve had too much anyway.”

Y/n chuckled quietly, shaking her head, “If you’re not leaving drunk, then I can assure you; you haven’t.”

“Is that so?” Keanu cocked a curious eyebrow, “What makes you say that?” Even as he spoke to her, Keanu found that the girl before him seemed oddly familiar, like he had seen her before. She was beautiful too, the kind of gorgeous that didn’t go unnoticed, still, he couldn’t quite place her face.

“Well,” she began, not in the slightest bit star-struck or phased that she was in the company of one of the world’s most famous movie stars- Y/n had had her her fair share of famous meets, “That’s what these parties are for. There’s propbaly more booze than there is water here tonight, and there are three pools in this place, so if you aren’t getting drunk, it’s all a waste.”

“You don’t seem drunk,” Keanu shot back, his handsome features taking on an interested smirk.

Y/n chortled, rolling her eyes, “Not yet.”

At that, Keanu scoffed; for a girl probably no more than twenty five, she sure seemed to have some fire in her. For a minute, they both just stood there, drinking each other in, and when he could barely hold her challenging stare for any longer, Keanu offered his hand, “I’m-”

“I know who you are Mr. Movie Star,” Y/n took his hand, her own easily dwarfed by his, giving it a slow, firm shake. It took a beat, but Y/n finally relented, ready to give up her own name when she was rudely interrupted by Jillian ‘rounding back towards them.

“Hey,” she greeted, smiling as she looked between them and Y/n reclaimed her hand, “You’re mom’s looking for you. She’s in the living room.”

Y/n sighed reluctantly, “Alright, to be continued?” She glanced to Keanu, cocking an eyebrow.

“Sure,” he obliged, watching carefully as she and the other woman, who looked much like her, they must have been sisters, he thought as they disappeared into the sea of people.

”Mom?” Y/n called as Jillian deserted her in search of more male entertainment.

“Honey!” Her mother returned cheerily, her father holding out an arm, pulling Y/n into a sideways hug, “We’ve been looking for you.”

“I’ve heard,” Y/n responded coolly, “What for?”

“Why else?” Her father was in a jovial mood, a sign that the alcohol had already shaken of his usual seriousness, “Our guests need to meet the future president of Warren Enterprises!” He explained, as if it were already plainly obvious, “Come on” with one arm draped loosely over her shoulder and the other secured around her mother’s waist, Y/n’s, father led them to and up the first landing of the stair case.

Loudly, he cleared his throat and clinked his glass with a spoon someone from the wait staff had provide. Y/n’s mother stood close to his side, smiling warm and proud, her hands circling his middle. Y/n’s scanned the crowd, for some reason, stopping when they locked with those of a familiar celebrity. From where she stood, she could almost see his mouth ‘o’ with recognition and she had to bite back a sly smile. When he had almost everyone’s attention, her father began, “Goodnight ladies and gentlemen and thank you for taking the time to join us tonight. Most of you know probably know my family and I, but for those of you who don’t; I’m Michael Warren and beside me, is my beautiful wife, who’s way out of my league; Heather Warren,” Y/n’s mother blushed, lightly slapping her husband’s chest. Nearly thirty years of marriage and they were still every bit it love, depending on the day, Y/n would either find it extremely sweet or nauseatingly annoying. After he had quickly kissed her cheek, Michael continued, “And finally, we have the apple of my eye, our greatest achievement and the future president of the Warren chain of companies; Y/n Warren, my daughter,” at that, the crowd erupted in a round of polite applauses. When they died down he kept going, “In a few years, I know that Y/n will lead the Deliciae hotels, along with all our other endeavors towards greater excellence, as she has done with everything else.”

Michael raised his glass and Y/n nodded in thanks, trying to ignore the bubbling anxiety that usually came with the thought of having to take her father’s place one day. As an only child, it was obvious that she’d be the one to do it, it was a fact that she had been sure of since she was twelve, but it never made knowing easier. Sure, she had gotten a degree from an ivy league school, graduating at the top of her class, she was being trained for it everyday, shadowing her father since her return from Philadelphia a few months back, but still, Y/n didn’t think there was enough education or training in the world that could ready her for running a multi-billion dollar company. “To Y/n,” the words broke Y/n out of her thoughts and she forced herself to smile, whispering a quiet thanks as everyone rose their glasses

Not long after, everyone dispersed again, the quiet hum of chatter all around filled the house once again. Excusing herself from the company of her parents, with shaking, nervous breaths, Y/n decided that she needed some air and a drink. Collecting a glass of champagne from one of the trays being carried around by a waiter, she hustled towards the nearest patio door at the side of the dining room. Waiting until she had burst through the wide screen doors, cool air hitting her like a much needed slap in the face before her breathing grew heavy and ragged. As the panic from in the troubling thoughts grew in her chest, she fought burning tears, trying desperately not to sob right then and there.

“Are you okay?” A familiar male voice asked, coming from the side.

Y/n almost jumped at his question, turning wide eyed to find Keanu coming out from a dark patch near the bushes, tossing a cigarette to the cobble stoned ground, putting it out with the toe of his boot. Quickly, she turned away, downing the contents of her glass and swiping under her eyes, “Yeah,” she nodded stiffly, her voice breaking just a little, “I’m fine.”

“Doesn’t look like it,” he commented casually, stuffing his hand into his pockets as he stepped closer, “That’s a lot of pressure for a.....”

“Twenty-three,” Y/n provided her age with a huff, sniffling, embarrassed that Keanu had caught her on the verge of tears.

“For a twenty-three year old. That’s what’s bothering you, right?” He smiled sympathetically and Y/n’s face fell a little further, admitting he was right. Keanu rubbed the back of his neck nervously, feeling a little ridiculous for checking her out when they had first met. She was just a kid, way too young to be worrying about keeping a business of that size successful and worse, too be befriending a man his age. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Y/n scoffed a laugh that didn’t really have any humor behind it, “No.” Casting her gaze towards the awning land that spanned about a mile before it was blocked off by a high wall, she discarded her empty glass on the near by outdoor table. “I don’t know,” she shook her head, “I guess, I always knew that I’d have to do it one day. I mean, they aren’t gonna be around forever, but just knowing, thinking about it.....it’s horrifying. I’ve never even planned a birthday party or a family dinner I can’t run a company.”

“Maybe you can’t,” Keanu shook his shoulders, going to stand next to her, sure to leave an arm’s length between them, “Maybe you’re gonna suck. You could fuck it up, run the whole thing into bankruptcy, lose all your family’s money. You could do so terribly that all people will associate with you is failure.”

Y/n’s jaw slacked and her eyes widened with horror, “Well that’s not helping,” she scoffed, her lips quivering ever so slightly.

“You’re right, it’s not. But it’s also what you’re telling yourself. That you can’t do it. And you’re right to think it, because it is a real possibility. But you know what else is a possibility?” Keanu folded his arms, turning to face her.

When he didn’t offer anything further, Y/n loosely mirrored his stance, tilting her head, “What?”

“That you kick ass and you become one of the best presidents that your family’s company has ever seen,” when Y/n finally smiled at the positive thought, Keanu did too, pleased with himself that he had seemingly managed to help her mood. Then he continued, that time a little lighter, “Or you know, you at the very least, manage to keep it afloat.”

Y/n huffed a quiet laugh, playfully slapping his shoulder, “A plus advice,” she complimented as she grinned a little wider, “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, but I don’t give advice,” he brushed off.

“Ohh?” Y/n raised her brows, curious, “So what was that?”

Keanu shrugged uneventfully, “Thoughts,” once again, he returned his gaze to the far off wall.

“Well whatever you call it, thank you,” Y/n said once again and they fell into comfortable silence.

For a while, they just stood there, but eventually, Keanu abruptly announced, “You know, I don't think we’ve been formerly introduced. Keanu Reeves,” he held out his hand.

Biting back a smile, Y/n once again took Keanu’s hand, marveling in how they could be soft and calloused at the same time, “Y/n Warren. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Keanu beamed, “I knew that you looked familiar.”

“Yeah? Y/n giggled, her hold on his hand steady, “Do you know me from that time I got drunk in Bali on Spring break or that ridiculous family of the year article on my parents?”

“Both good references,” Keanu agreed, finally putting together all the places where he had gotten a glace at her name or a peek of her picture somewhere on the internet, “But it was actually on that Time’s piece on top 20 heirs of the decade. If I remember correctly; you liked double chocolate ice-cream and your first car was a red BMW for your eighteenth birthday”

“Good memory,” Y/n giggled, her eyes sparkling, “But it was actually a Mercedes for my sixteenth birthday.”

Keanu nodded wistfully, rubbing his fingers through his beard, “That’s.....just as fancy. Mine was a Volvo,” his tone was light and teasing, highly unlike the annoyance she’d get from people who never saw past the money.

Y/n joined his quiet laugher, sighing as it died down. “What are you doing here anyway? No offense, but you’re not the kind of guy that I expected to see at one of these things.”

“And what kind of guys do you usually expect to see?” Keanu probed, admittedly interested in what Y/n meant.

“Arrogant pricks,” she offered bluntly, “But you,” she squinted dramatically, “You don’t seem arrogant, or like a prick.”

“Thanks?” Keanu chuckled, “I stayed at one of dad’s hotels a couple months ago and we met. It was probably for just a couple minutes, but I got then invitation about two weeks ago and my publicist basically said that I had no choice in the whole thing. So,” he gestured widely with outstretched arms, “Here I am.”

“Here you are,” Y/n mirrored, blushing for a reason that she couldn’t point out. It usually took a lot to make her blush, but something about Keanu made it easy, or maybe it was the alcohol.

“So you were forced,” Y/n mused, “I can totally relate.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” Keanu chortled, trying to ignore how much more beautiful Y/n seemed now that she was smiling.

Y/n snorted in a way that her mother might have deemed ‘unbecoming’, “You think I wanted to spend my Wednesday night talking about proposals and mergers? And worse yet, how available everyone’s son is,” Y/n’s eyes rolled at just the thought of all the conversations she had had that night, about how much time she had spent running around with Jillian dodging anyone with a single son her age.

Keanu’s head fell back in laughter and Y/n thought, that for a man old enough to be a father, she was immensely glad that he wasn’t, considering how attractive he was. Rugged handsomeness; Y/n had seen the movies and the pictures, Keanu had aged like expensive whiskey, if only she could have a taste. “People have been trying to set you up?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, “Minus the pony show, it kind of felt like a county fair.” Their laughter eventually became reduced to twined smiles and as the space between them lessened, “I’m not interested their type though.”

“Their type?” Keanu’s brows furrowed, “What’s their type?” He licked his lips, looking down at her close to his chest, as much as he had resisted it, Keanu had drawn closer to her. God, his mind whispered as their close proximity clouded his thoughts, she’s so beautiful, a doll wrapped up in fine silk.

“Boys,” her voice had grown hoarse, in a throaty whisper, “I don’t like boys, they’re so.....immature and inexperienced.”

Keanu hummed in a agreement, “Sounds like you need a man.”

“It does, doesn’t it? A man with experience, who knows what he’s doing,” as she spoke, Keanu’s hand went to her waist, running the side of her torso before going around her, settling on the small of her back.

“Aren’t you something?” Keanu chuckled lowly, Y/n a little closer, “And here I was thinking you were a good girl.”

Y/n gaze darkened and she smiled suggestively, “Is that what you want me to be?”

All the alarms in his head had started to go off by then. She’s too young, half of his mind insisted, but every other part of him pushed him to submit, to kiss her and then some. Y/n looked so delectable, already in his arms, pressed to him. Keanu could feel her heat through the barrier of their clothes and the inviting view of her cleavage aided by the low cut of a dress that didn’t allow for a bra wasn’t really helping either. “Fuck no,” he breathed, his hand sliding a bit lower, cupping her backside. Keanu would have liked to think, that by all counts, he was a pretty decent guy. The kind that followed the rules and didn’t typically grab a girl’s ass an hour after meeting her, but Y/n was so enthralling that she was reminding him that under the right, or rather; the wrong circumstances, he could be anything but decent.

Licking her lips one last time, Y/n’s arms circled Keanu’s neck and without another word, he leaned down, his lips hovering a bare centimeter away from hers. It was a hair away from happening, and Y/n knew that she wasn’t ready for it to end there. She could feel his breath on her face and she cocked her head to the side to get a better angle, closing her eyes as she did.

“I have terrible timing, don’t I?” And just like that, they sprang apart, both sucking in nervous breaths. Y/n’s hand went to clutch her chest, ignoring the sinking feeling she got as the moment got further and further away.

“Jill?” Y/n groaned, disappointed.

“Sorry,” she cringed, “You two were in the middle of something. My bad,” Jillian held up her hands defensively, “I swear I wouldn’t have interrupted if it wasn’t important.”

“Okay,” Y/n nodded and when Jillian didn’t go on, she gestured with her hands, Well, what is it?”

“Oh yeah! Um, they need you inside.....it’s urgent,” for another minute, Jillian lingered in the doorway, her eyes flicking between them, “Well, I’ll give you two a minute and meet you inside. Okay? Okay, I’m going now,” she waved awkwardly.

Once again nervous, Keanu stuttered, “You should....”

“Yeah,” Y/n nodded hurriedly, “I need to.....get......I’ve gotta go,” she shook her head, scurrying off.

With a heavy sigh, Keanu ran his hands though his hair. Half of him was disappointed that he hadn’t gotten to at the very least kiss her, while the other was relived that he hadn’t, the former being a little more overwhelming. Turning on his heel, he was trying to clear his head, when he heard the clicking of heels behind him, “For the record, you know where I live, and I’ll be here tomorrow if you’re still interested.”

“Alone?” He offered a intrigued smile.

“Completely,” Y/n winked, once again hurrying off. At her final exit, Keanu scoffed, still smiling, she really was something, and he could already tell that Y/n was up to no good.

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mimymomo · 5 years ago

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Orphydice/Weathering With You AU Part 1

Okay this AU has been bugging me all night so I have to scream about it to my unknowing followers. (Damn it Mo, not another AU! You don’t have time for this!!) Do not be alarmed inner me, this AU will mostly be confined to a list! This one in fact! Or another one is this one does on too long...

I know for a fact that no one in this fandom saw this movie so I’ll try to explain it as best as I can here:

Eurydice was a runaway. Even at the bitter age of 16, she knew what kind of situation she was in and it wasn’t a good one. Neglectful parents, living in a small town where everyone knew one another’s business but that didn’t mean they were gonna help you with shit.

She tried to get emancipated once, saved up a bunch of money from side temp jobs between school but that plan ended up dead in the water before she could jump off the diving board. Her parents found and stole her savings, her hard-earned money. They gave her hell for it, going around telling stores, not to hire their “problem child” and she couldn’t find a permanent job afterward.

So she ran. Hopped on a bus and set out for the city. While traveling, the weather got bad. The weather had been doing that more and more recently. Sure it was April and storms happened, but not violent snowstorms that lasted days and frozen over lakes and roads, inches piling high along street-sides. Or rain showers the flooded fields and drowned basements. Thunder and lightning shaking homes and striking trees. Winds sweeping children off their feet, soaring in the sky like a tangled kite.

One such storm occurred during the journey, heavy rains and violent winds, forcing the driver to make an emergency stop at a motel and wait out the storm. As Eurydice steps off the bus, one of her bags (a small drawstring sack) gets swept up in the wind aim the direction of the street and she gives chase. As she reaches down to grab her bag, she sees a light in the corner of her eyes, shining bright and drawing closer, closer.

Suddenly she’s yanked back as a honking car zooms by. She’s being held snug against someone’s chest, someone who smells of something floral and a hint of alcohol. “Gotta be careful, girl. Don’t wanna be turned into a pancake now do ya?”

Eurydice turns around and freezes- the woman is beautiful: long ankle-length dress the shade of healthy green grass, her brown curly hair is braided back, flowers of different colors twisted in the mix. Her eyes warm and attentive. She’s carrying a small bag herself, with what looks like a few bottles of wine sticking out the top.

She introduces herself as Persephone and before Eurydice knows it, they’re sharing a room together. Eurydice tried to protest but the woman clad in green insist already arranging a room with a double bed. A few hours later, they’re showered and laying on their beds, room service spread out on trays and Seph half finished with a crack open bottle.

Persephone tells Eurydice she was visiting her mother up north (her mom apparently owns a vineyard) however her trip was cut short when her husband demanded (her words) her to return. “That man,” Seph curses drunkenly, waving her bottle, the liquid sloshing around the funneled glass. Eurydice’s only know Seph for a few hours but she’s already enamored with the woman and her attitude.

The next day when they arrive at the station, Seph offers Eurydice a business with her information on it: “Anthomania” in flowery lettering along with an address and phone number. A flower shop.

“I never asked but what brings you to the city? I can tell from your expression that you’ve never been here before.” Eurydice wasn’t ready for that question. “Oh just visiting, uhh some...relatives! Yeah, relatives! For spring break.” Seph rolls her eyes, not believing the girl for a moment but deciding to play along anyway, “so you know where you’re heading then?” Eurydice nods and they separate.

The first week is a struggle. No one will hire her with her limitations (no resume/references, she’s underage and constantly asked where she should be in school, she doesn’t have an address nor her social security number, and she can’t give out all her information in fear of her name popping up on a missing child’s list). So to put it lightly...she’s kinda screwed. She’s been staying in a really cheap hostel living off corner store food. She gets in trouble for loitering a few times and once while rummaging through some trash she came across a gun and decides to keep it for safety reasons (this will be important later)

One day, thinking she’s walking into a job site, she accidentally stumbles into an old, rundown bar. There’s barely anyone in there besides two people sitting at a table in the far corner, a man passed out at the counter. The air smells musky, traces of pungent alcohol fill the air and also the smell of someone buttery. Eurydice’s stomach growls. She didn’t have money to spare on breakfast or lunch recently. She knows she shouldn’t but she takes a seat at one of the tables, her back facing the bar counter. She contemplates what she’s doing and maybe if she should go home. But that thought disappears just as quickly as it showed up.

Out of nowhere, a tray of two burger sliders and a basket of fries are set down in front of her, followed by a glass of water. Eurydice whips her head and is met with two hazel eyes, the prettiest eyes she’s ever seen. The boy is young but has a charm to him. Lanky and tall, his brown hair sticks up to the sky as if his fingers had just run through them. “Sorry if I’m overstepping but you looked hungry and lost so...” his voice is soft and awkward as hell, but she finds it endearing. “Also Mr. Hermes will be back soon and he probably won’t like seeing someone underage so I’d eat that quick.” “How do you know I’m underage?” Eurydice shoots back with a raised brow. The boy flushes pink, blood floods his cheeks, ears, and neck, “oh! I’m sorry! I just thought-”

Eurydice laughs, “I messing with you.” “Ohhh...okay,” the boy smiles, scratching lightly at his cheek. Eurydice finds herself fighting a blush as well. ‘Why is he so cute??’ “I can’t pay for this.” The boy waves her concerns off, “it’s on the house.”

Before she can argue and refuse, a customer yells for around round and the boy begins to shuffle away. “Thank you,” Eurydice butts in, “for the food, I mean.” The boy grins and walks away.

That burger and fries were the best food she’s had in years.

The next day, she finds herself standing outside Anthomania, the brick building sits on corner, wide windows that let you see completely inside the shop. It’s flowers, everywhere- flowers along the walls, in stands amidst the floors, in pots, small and large, arranged bouquets in buckets near the front. Eurydice steps in and is overwhelmed by the sweet scent, sunlight bleeding in from the washed windows. What catches her eye is a small bouquet of carnations: reds, pinks, and whites. “Didn’t expect to see you here so soon.”

Eurydice jumps and spins around to see Persephone with her arms crossed, her green dress replaced with a garden styled apron. The two catch up and Seph calls Eurydice out for lying about visiting relatives. Eurydice stays the rest of the workday and later as Seph is closing up shop, she intends to walk about to her hostel room but Seph offers her a ride. Once the get there Seph forces her to grab her things and pays the bill. And drives her to her place.

It’s huge, a mansion guarded by a gate at the edge of town. The inside is just as beautiful as the outside but eerily quiet and somehow suffocating in a way. She meets Seph’s husband, Hades. He works as a CEO of some company, mining? Electric? Eurydice doesn’t know. He doesn’t seem particularly fond of her especially after Persephone announces that girl would be staying with them for now on and being working as an assistant/apprentice at her flower shop. Hades fights her on this but the woman wins out in the end.

As the days go on Eurydice notices how dysfunctional the couple are. They definitely love each other but...oof. Eurydice, when she’s not working her shifts, starts cooking meals and cleaning around the house and starts winning over the man of the house and the three slowly start to become a sort of family in the following month.

One day a customer comes into the flower shop, bracing the stormy weather. He’s an older gentleman wearing a silver suit with dark skin and gray hair. He’s coughing hard but still cheery. Seph and the man catch up and Eurydice figures they must be close. She doesn’t mean to eavesdrop but she hears them talking about something crazy: an urban legend of a child blessed by the gods who can control the weather. She thinks it’s stupid and doesn’t realize she said that fact out loud.

“Maybe child but you never know,” the man chuckles. Seph laughs at Eurydice’s shocked face, “brother, this is Eurydice. She’s working for me as an apprentice as sorts.” The man shakes her hand and begins to cough harshly again. “You should really go and get that checked out,” Persephone persists. The man waves her off, “I’m aight, just a little cough from the weather. Plus money’s been tight with the bar and all plus the boy.” He buys a few bouquets to be delivered next week and leaves. Eurydice ponders about why he said, ‘it’s impossible,’ and she leaves it there.

She’s the one who has to make the delivery. Turns out it’s the same bar she met that boy at. She hesitantly walks inside hoping to see the boy but no dice. She drops off the flowers and says hello to the man who she still doesn’t know the name of and heads out. Halfway back to Anthomania she sees something that catches her eye, no, someone. ‘It’s that boy!’ He’s being dragged by two older men, his face nervous. She can instantly tell something is wrong. She follows them and sees them leading him down a dark alley in the direction of a shady building. Before she realizes she already running. She grabs the boy's hand and they’re off.

The two men chase after them and corner them, knocking Eurydice to the ground. Eurydice reaches into her bag and pulls out the gun. The men at first think it’s a fake and start to roughhouse the boy saying that he set them up and will have to pay which causes Eurydice’s blood to boil. She grips the gun tightly, her fingertips turning white, she trembles and her vision goes hazy from rain and adrenaline, then suddenly...bam!

A shot gets fired off.

No one was hit but everyone is shocked. The boy is surprisingly the first to recover and he pulls Eurydice to her feet and they run away.

The escape to an abandoned half-underground train station. Trains covered in moss and plant life lay there rusty as sunlight barely shines through dirty grime-covered windows. Despite its uncleanliness, there’s something magical about this place, Eurydice can feel it in her bones.

“Why did you do that? Where did you get the gun?” the boy asks, huffing and puffing, athleticism is not one of his strong suits. “I thought you were in trouble,” Eurydice fights back. “And I found it.” The boy dips his head, “my guardian is sick but he always says that he doesn’t have the money to spare to get checked out. I needed to make some extra money and they promised me a well-paying job at this not exactly savory club if I performed there.”

Eurydice gapes, she has so many thoughts running through her head she doesn’t know where to start so she just says, “you’re a performer?” The smiles, “yup, I sing and play guitar. Plus I write my own music. I never introduced myself huh? I’m Orpheus.” “Eurydice.”

“Do you want to see something cool?” Orpheus asks, acting as if the previous incident with the gun didn’t just happen. “I mean, sure but it’s kinda a mess out there,” Eurydice points out. Orpheus ignores her and offers out his hand. Eurydice takes it and they walk back to the entrance.

When they reach the outside, the sky is gray and cloudy. Rain and sleet pour from the sky mixing with the dirty dusting of snow on the ground.

“Would you like the weather to be better?” Orpheus asks. “I mean of course I would,” Eurydice shrugs, “but I doubt that’ll happen anytime soon.”

“I don’t know,” Orpheus says, his eyes shut lightly. “I think the weather can surprise you. Just watch.” Eurydice looks around not sure where she should be looking until...

“La, la la la, la la la~!” A heavenly voice rings out, echoing among the buildings.

Suddenly the rain stops and the clouds part and disappear from the sky. Rays of sunlight breach out coolers by a rich sea of blue. The sun...Eurydice hadn’t seen the sun in so long.

“Oh my god, you’re a weather child! You can control the weather!” Eurydice screams, turning to Orpheus who finishes his song as a small red flower appears in his palm. A red carnation.

He offers her the flower and smiles. “Yeah, I guess you could say that I am.”

...

Wow, I typed all of this and only got like...1/3 of the way into the movie...so part 2 coming soon? I love this movie and subsequent au so it’ll probably be out tomorrow if people want it?

#hadestown #orphydice #orpheus x eurydice #weathering with you au #my writing

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swinfinities · 5 years ago

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Long Live the Queen: Part Sixteen

Padmé took a long, deep breath. It had been years. Long, heart-wrenching, war-torn years. A long time ago, she had been a senator and a diplomat. Negotiation and diplomacy had been her weapons of choice. Now, somehow, she was a general, coordinating attacks and deploying troops, waging war against the most hated man in the galaxy—a man that she had once considered a mentor and a dear friend.

Padmé had only begun to realize that she shouldn’t be so surprised by where she had ended up. Her entire life had been war. Even as a newly-elected queen, war had found its way to the peaceful world of Naboo. She had hardly been a teenager then. She often wondered then if she was really ready for such responsibility. She still wondered.

But it didn’t matter now. The past was the past. The only thing she had the power to change now was the present. And now it was time for action. It was time for her son to come home.

Home. She wasn’t sure where that was, anymore. It had been Naboo. But now that was only a world tainted with sad memories. She hadn’t been back since the Clone War ended. After a while, Padmé just sort of accepted that she was now someone without a home. Like a Purrgil, drifting amid the stars.

But Luke had a home. At least, Padmé hoped Luke would still treat it like his home. For all its faults, Tatooine had kept her son safe for years. Hopefully it would again.

Until they all jumped right back into the danger.

The battered old Corellian YT-model freighter thundered down from the sky, kicking up a miniature sandstorm as it came to rest on the sand.

“It’s a wonder that thing still flies!” coughed Owen Lars.

Padmé’s reunion with the Lars family had been a much sweeter one than she had anticipated. In spite of the way that she had left things, running off in the middle of the night with their nephew and that “crazy old wizard.” They hadn’t spoken in years. For all they knew, Padmé and Luke were both dead, or left rotting in some Imperial prison.

But, as always, Owen and Beru brought Padmé back into their home with open hearts and tearful eyes. And Padmé forgot why she could have ever expected anything different.

When the dust had cleared and the roar of the freighter’s engines died off, Padmé’s heart leaped when the first pair of feet came strolling down the boarding ramp.

She hardly recognized him. She remembered leaving behind a little boy, blonde-haired and starry-eyed. Scared, but ready for adventure. He had returned now a young man, with a strong body and an even stronger resolve shining in his blue eyes.

He was dressed in Jedi robes, the long brown cloak flowing in the wind, his blonde hair shining in the light of the suns—his father’s lightsaber hanging at his waist.

Padmé broke down into tears. Because he looked just like Anakin.

Luke held his mother, and she let herself melt into his arms. The two wept together for a while, happy to just be together again.

“Oh, Luke,” Padmé sobbed. “I can’t believe I ever let you go.”

“It’s alright,” Luke said. “It’s okay. It was supposed to happen. It… well, this was my destiny.”

Padmé had never really understood the Force, at least not in the way that a Jedi did. But she had often heard them speak of destiny and the will of the Force. Now she prayed—to the Force, if it would listen—that destiny wasn’t going to lead them into disaster.

After a few minutes, Obi-Wan Kenobi exited the freighter, followed closely by the diminutive figure of Master Yoda.

Padmé finally pulled herself away and dried her tears, freeing Luke to greet his aunt and uncle.

“Obi-Wan,” said Padmé. “It’s good to see you again.”

“And you as well,” he said, bowing slightly. “I was hoping that at least a few tears would be shed on my behalf, but—”

Padmé laughed. “I’m glad the swamp didn’t do much to weaken your sense of humor.”

“That remains to be seen,” Obi-Wan replied. “But I am glad, at the very least, for a dry pair of boots.”

Padmé smiled down at Yoda, leaning on his gnarled wooden cane.

“Master Yoda,” she said.

“Your Highness,” he replied.

I am a queen no longer, she thought to reply. But she knew better than to argue with one as wise as Yoda. After all, she hadn’t lived for nine hundred years. So, she was just glad to let the warmth of his smile soften her war-hardened heart for a short, happy moment.

“Not too poorly, the war has treated you, I hope?” Yoda asked.

“As good as any war can treat someone, I suppose,” Padmé sighed. “There are worse days, and there are less worse days.”

Padmé laughed softly, but it was a sad laugh.

“But I don’t need to tell you that,” she said.

“Mmm,” Yoda grunted in reply, shaking his head. “A terrible thing, this war is. Much death have I sensed. Yes, and pain. Much pain still to come, I fear.”

“Well, if your plan really does work, Padmé, hopefully we stop this war before it really gets started,” said Obi-Wan.

“We’re going to need all the help we can get,” Padmé said. “Even three Jedi may not be enough. Which reminds me… Luke?”

He spun around, turning away from his embrace with his Aunt Beru.

“There’s … someone you need to meet,” Padmé said.

She walked up to her son, placing her hands on his shoulders, which were already almost too tall for her to reach.

“This may be hard for you to hear, and… I know you’re probably tired of so many secrets. But it was so important that this was kept a secret, even from you. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, I promise you. But it was the only way to keep the two of you safe.”

“I don’t understand—” Luke started to say.

“There is…” Padmé said. “There is another Skywalker.”

Luke’s eyes narrowed in confusion. Or was it surprise?

“What?” he gasped.

Padmé looked toward the entrance of the old Lars homestead—the one that had been their home for more than a decade. She motioned for someone to come.

A young woman stepped out from the shade. She was dressed in a simple white robe, her hair done up in two elaborate buns on either side of her head. A white hood was draped gently over her head to shield her porcelain skin from the garish sunlight.

“Luke,” Padmé said. “This is your twin sister: Leia Organa, Princess of Alderaan.”

*****

“You know,” Luke said. “It’s funny.”

“How’s that?” Leia replied.

“How you got picked to be Princess of… what is it? Alderaan. And I got shipped off to Tatooine of all places, living on a moisture farm. You know, there’s not a kid in Mos Eisley that wouldn’t kill for a chance to set foot in a palace, let alone live in one.”

“Living in a palace isn’t really as glamorous as you think it is,” Leia said, rolling her eyes.

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure it’s really hard waking up to the butler bringing you breakfast in bed every day. I can’t even imagine how difficult it must be to step out of bed and wonder ‘which balcony shall I sit on to sip my tea today?’.”

Luke tried (rather poorly) to mimic the snooty sort of accent that he had heard many of the core-worlders and Imperial-types use.

Leia socked Luke in the arm. They both laughed.

The long-lost siblings sat alone together in one of the small cabins of the ship that was speedily carrying them back towards the fourth moon of Yavin. It was quiet, except for the dull vibration of the hyperdrive echoing through the cold, metal walls.

Leia sighed and shook her head.

“All this time,” she muttered. “I never knew I had a real family. I mean… my parents—”

“You mean Her Royal Highness, Queen of Alderaan?” Luke tried the accent again.

Leia shot him a look.

“My mom and dad,” she corrected. “Are my real family, of course. But I always thought my birth parents were dead. Then, a few years ago, I met Padm—er… my real mom. Our mom. But I had no idea who she was. Still, I always had this weird… feeling when I was around her. I don’t know... I don’t know how to describe it.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” said Luke.

“And then… I started getting involved with the Rebellion,” Leia continued. “My dad didn’t like it, but… it was where I belonged. I’ve been lucky enough to see behind the Imperial curtain, so to speak. I know what really goes on in the Empire. And I decided a long time ago that I can’t sit around and wait for someone else to stop it. Anyway… I saw mom around the Rebel base on Yavin a lot, at least whenever I was allowed to be there, which wasn’t often. I knew she was someone important. She hardly ever showed her face to anyone outside of High Command. Only a few people knew her name. It was only a couple weeks ago that I found out why. My dad just sat me down with her one day and explained the whole thing. That Padmé was my birth mother. That she was Padmé Amidala, Queen of Naboo. That I have a brother. That my father is—”

Leia choked on the words.

“Anakin Skwalker,” Luke finished for her. “Jedi Knight. That’s who our father was. Darth Vader is… something else.”

Leia sighed. “I cried and cried for days after that. I don’t know if it was happy or sad, or sometimes both. I was so excited to have this new family, but just so sad that I missed out on it all before. Eventually, I ran out of tears to cry. And now… now I just don’t know how to feel.”

Luke placed his hand on hers.

“Afraid,” he said. “That’s how I feel, anyway.”

“I thought Jedi weren’t supposed to be afraid,” Leia said.

Luke looked down at his feet, sheepishly. “Fear begets anger, anger begets hate, and hate begets suffering. It is natural to feel fear. It’s what you do with it that matters. Do you turn inward or do you turn outward? At least… that’s what Obi-Wan always says.”

“I’ve heard lots of stories from my dad about Master Kenobi. It’s kind of crazy that the hero from my old bedtime stories is sitting in the next cabin over.”

“And I never even knew he was a Jedi. All my life, he was just the old hermit that lived on the edge of the Dune Sea. Then, all of a sudden, he is a Jedi Master, and I am supposed to just leave everything behind and become a Jedi, too.”

“I’m sorry,” said Leia. “I really can’t imagine what that must have been like. Being so alone for so long…”

“Don’t be sorry. I guess I was scared for a while. And then I was angry for a while after that. But I wasn’t alone, not really. Obi-Wan and Yoda helped me. They made me into who I’m supposed to be.”

“You think it’ll be enough?” Leia asked.

“Enough for what?”

“Enough to win.”

“I… don’t know.”

The Skywalker siblings were quiet for a while. The silence made it easy for the weight of everything that was about to happen start to sink in.

“Do you… do you think we’re going to make it through this?” Leia asked, clearly forcing back tears.

Luke didn’t say anything for a long time.

“I’ve been taught that I shouldn’t fear death,” he said at last. “That I should… how does Yoda put it? ‘Rejoice for those that transform into the Force.’ But… somehow… I know that we’re going to see dad again. And that’s all that matters.”

“How can you know?”

“A feeling.”

#Star Wars Infinities #Star Wars #alternate universe #alternate timeline #what-if #what if #Padme Amidala #Obi-wan Kenobi #Luke Skywalker #Darth Vader #Ahsoka Tano #Leia Organa #fanfiction #fanfic

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mybeautifuldecay · 6 years ago

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Private Tutor. Chapter Twenty-Seven; I Haven’t.

I know this has been a long time coming, but I have some New Years resolutions - one of them is to get this one more up to date with less time between updates. Writing these days is incredibly hard because my job from September suddenly became quite intense and I’m finding it increasingly more difficult to enjoy Show!OL to the point where I sort of zoned out...though I still love fic of all kinds.

Happy New Year all!! <3

Master List is HERE if you need to remind yourselves :)

The phone call came in the middle of an intense study session and Claire barely heard it ring.

“It’s for you.” Murtagh called, sliding her mobile across the bar as she lifted her head from the particularly large textbook.

“Hello?” She answered before mouthing ‘thank you’ to Murtagh and slipping into the ladies bathroom. “This is Claire speaking.”

As the door closed behind her, Jamie came out from the kitchen, wafting the hot chips with his free hand. They could hear a slight mumbling through the thick wood but no actual words which made him edgy and nervous. Putting a chip into his mouth, he placed the bowl on the bar and kept his eyes glued on the bathroom.

“It willna make her come out any quicker, my lad.”

“Do ye ken who it is?”

“Nah, I couldna tell, though he was Scottish.”

“It’s Ned,” he sighed, “I dinna think she kens anyone else other than Joe and he’s a Yank.” At the mention of the lawyer, his heart rate increased exponentially. With the chips going cold in front of him, he tapped his foot nervously against the bar stool. He could see her wandering up and down through the glass panel but there was nothing he could do to alter the course he just had to hope that Randall had done the honourable thing.

Stepping outside, shedding the scent of stale urine, Claire bit the inside of her lip to try and stop herself from crying.

“I’m free.” She whispered, the choked sound echoing around the empty pub as Murtagh quirked a brow.

“Christ. Sassenach. He signed them?”

“Y-yes. By noon tomorrow I’ll officially be divorced.”

A smile overtook the worry on Jamie’s face as he stood and strode towards Claire. Placing his hand over the arch of her belly he rested his forehead gently against hers. “In three months, mo nighean donn, ye’ll be a mother and I’ll be a da - and we’ll be free to marry should ye want to and I canna wait.”

Tears ran down her face, her cheeks pinked from holding her breath as Ned had conveyed the good news to her and her heart was beating clearly in her chest as the weight of her sham marriage lifted from her shoulders.

After their return from Lallybroch and through the beginning of Claire’s course both her and Jamie had patiently waited for any news from the lawyers about the proceedings but Ned had been suspiciously quiet for a whole two months. Though cold, September and October had been milder than usual but they had both begun to numb themselves - even the excitement of the coming halloween hadn’t brought Claire any relief. But, now, just in time for the run up to Christmas, Ned given them some unexpected (added) joy.

“I don’t think I can read anymore about the central nervous system tonight.” She hiccuped, her hands shaking as she placed the phone back into her pocket.

“Nor should ye have to,” Murtagh interjected, “have some champagne on me, aye?” He said, reaching into the small fridge to collect a bottle. “Go upstairs and celebrate the two of ye.” With a wink and a nod he passed the cold Bollinger over to Jamie and watched as the two disappeared through the door to Jamie’s apartment.

They were calm and quiet for all of a moment but the second the air settled around them, Claire let out a squeal of delight, her hands coming to cover her mouth as she bounced on the balls of her feet. “I’m free, Jamie. A divorcee.”

Standing with his hands in his pockets, Jamie twisted the material against his fingers, the sweat dripping down his spine as his hands gripped the small velvet box that he had concealed earlier. “How would you feel…” he started, the pulse racing in his neck as he tried to pluck up the courage to ask the important question, “if I were to ask ye, Claire *Beauchamp*...”

She saw the nervous twitch, the tilt of his head which highlighted the wee droplets of moisture forming on his forehead and she recalled the time, not so long ago, when she’d removed her first wedding ring and how it had felt to finally be free of the shackles of it.

“You remembered my maiden name.”

He’d seen it on the forms she’d been filling in and he’d taken an internal snapshot for reference later.

“Aye. I want to ken everything about ye, Claire.”

“Including whether or not I’ll say yes...to your question?” She said with a knowing glint in her eye.

“Aye.” He whispered, the nerves suddenly dissipating.

Reaching forwards, she pulled his hand from his pocket and smiled shyly at what she saw clasped between his fingers. Placing her mouth carefully over his, Claire kissed him as she rested her hand over his. “I think you already know how I’ll answer. I don’t think you’d have been carrying this-” squeezing her fingers around the back of his hand she let her nose bump against his as she paused, “waiting for Ned to call with news if you had even considered the possibility of me saying no.”

“Say it, then.” He returned, his eyes closed now as he pushed his flat stomach against her distended one. “If ye know what ye want.”

“Right now, would you judge me if I said I just wanted you to take me to bed?”

In the last month her hormones had gone wild, lust ravaging her at a moments notice and having Jamie touch her - even in the most discreet way, caused her temperature to rise in the most delightful way.

“Say yes and I willna judge ye ever again.”

“I’d say screw you, Jamie, but really I mean it the other way around.” She sighed, giving him her most coquettish look.

“Such a filthy mouth, Miss Beauchamp, I like it.”

Removing her top with a swift flick of her wrists, she mouthed “good” as she stepped backwards towards the bed.

Perched on the edge with the duvet scrunched around her bottom, she looked glorious with her maternity bra sitting snuggly between her belly as it covered her breasts. He wanted her naked, he loved seeing the changes in her body as she grew bigger with their child and he especially loved seeing the flush blossom across her skin in the few moments when desire began to take hold of her. She didn’t even need to tell him, she just got this twinkle in her eye and then her flesh just seemed to get this iridescent glow that called to him on a primal level.

“If you want them off,” she said as she leaned backwards on the bed, “you just have to come over here.”

Needing no more coaxing, Jamie went, wrapping his arm around her waist he pulled her close and buried his nose beneath her chin. She smelt of talcum powder, a type of motherly scent that clung to her skin. Dragging himself lower he placed his mouth over her covered nipple before sucking softly.

She moaned making him suck harder. Even half clothed he could tell that she was desperate, the way she bucked her hips and clung to him, her hands now lost in the mass of curls that lay at the nape of his neck.

“Have ye thought about much else for the last few weeks?” He moaned as he fell onto his back, pulling her over his hips.

“I haven’t. No.”

“It’s just us now, Claire. You and I. There’s nothing to stop us.”

Undoing the clasp of her bra and flinging it onto the floor, she took both of his hands in hers and lay one of her the arch of her belly and one over her bare breast. “I’ve never been happier.” She whispered, the rasp of her voice causing the breath to leave his lungs in an instant. “There’s nothing I want more. So yes, Jamie,” she continued, writhing her hips suggestively, “Yes. I’ll marry you.”

#private tutor #Jamie X Claire #Outlander #Fanfiction

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everlarkficexchange · 6 years ago

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The Midnight Train

Written by: @katnissdoesnotfollowback

Prompt 52: Submitted by @567inpanem. “I know what you want. You have money, but what I have are a very particular set of skills. Skills I have acquired over a very long career. Skills that make me a dream come true for people like you.“ Sexually frustrated trophy wife Katniss commissions artist Peeta who immortalizes naked women after giving them the greatest O of their lives.

RATED E

WARNINGS: Contains explicit sexual content, dubious consent, incest (step-relation incest), age gap, implied underage, explicit language, suicidal thoughts, canon typical violence, shades of dark!Peeta (but really not that bad, some of you will probably laugh at my idea of dark-ish!Peeta), my brain wouldn’t let this go so here we go, all aboard on another crazy ride.

Length: A little over 10,000 words

A/N: While this may have taken a complete turn away from the original prompt, the basic elements are still there. That made better sense in my head. Hopefully it will make sense to you too by the end of the story and you are able to enjoy anyways! A thousand thanks to @stjohn27and @savvylark for pre-reading.

Her father died when she was seventeen. Her mother followed ten months later, on Katniss’ eighteenth birthday. They would starve or worse if Katniss didn’t begin working immediately. A future awaited her in the mines, they insisted.

A future that had killed her father. Drove her mother into despair and their entire family to the brink of desperation. And Katniss couldn’t stand the thought of spending almost every day of her life trapped underground where her father had died.

There were options, of course. A visit to one of the more lonely Peacekeepers guaranteed a handful of extra coins that she could stretch for a month, if Leevy Thompson’s information was reliable. She could hunt and feed her family that way, but hunting full time would look too suspicious. Bring too much attention to the way she flagrantly ignored the laws of Panem.

Katniss was looking for something more stable. More permanent. Prim was only twelve. She had seven Reapings in her future.

She knew that he wanted her. Knew it in the way his cold blue eyes followed her across the town square. Found her after every Reaping she survived. She knew it because he never looked away in shame when she caught him looking. Not even when she was thirteen and still figuring out how to deal with the breasts slowly emerging on her chest or the warm tingling sensation between her thighs late at night or when she’d catch a glimpse of the wrestling team at practice. She knew he wanted her because sometimes when he watched her, he licked his lips as if preparing to devour a feast. His fingers brushed absently over the front of his trousers.

It made her feel itchy and small the way he looked at her, because she knew she couldn’t ask him to stop. He was the mayor after all, and could have anything he wanted.

She could have married Gale instead. He was strong and a skilled hunter. A good partner she worked well with. But he wanted children one day and already had five other mouths to help feed. Their life together would have been a constant struggle.

So the day after she turned eighteen, Katniss put on her best blue dress, walked Prim to school, and instead of attending classes herself, she knocked on the imposing front door of the mayor’s mansion.

“I’d like to speak with Mayor Mellark.”

The maid who answered scoffed and made to close the door in her face.

“Who is it, Gaia?” His voice rang out clear and commanding as it did every Reaping Day when he delivered the speeches touting the Capitol. The same as it did before public punishments. Whippings and beatings and hangings, all of which he oversaw with a satisfied smile and ended with a clap of his hand on Head Peacekeeper Thread’s shoulder for a job well done.

She hated his voice. It made her shudder.

But today it gave her a slim chance at a future for Prim. The maid opened the door wider so the mayor could see her and she tried not to vomit in the perfectly pruned shrubs outside his mansion when he smiled at her.

“Come inside,” he offered the invitation with a wave of his hand.

Gale tried to persuade her not to do it. The second the announcement was made, half the Seam turned their backs on her. She had sold herself into the good graces of the one person they hated almost as much as they hated President Snow.

But it didn’t matter, she told herself. Prim would be safe. He promised her that Prim would never see the inside of an arena. He arranged for Prim to move in with the apothecary and his wife. The couple had no children and were more forgiving of their niece than they had been of their sister. They would train her as a healer and apothecary, and Prim would never have to stay in the mayor’s mansion. Katniss would not be allowed to visit her. It would be…beneath her when the mayor’s wife could afford to be seen by real doctors.

Prim would be safe. Katniss chanted it over and over inside her head as she signed the papers in the Justice Building. Again as the mayor draped a strand of pearls around her throat.

“A wedding gift,” he said.

Over and over as she danced with him in the square. As she posed with him and his three sons for wedding pictures. The oldest son sneered at her, a hatred unlike anything she’d seen before in his eyes.

“Levi. Go get a punch for your mother,” the mayor said after the pictures. “She’s looking flush.”

“She’s not my mother,” Levi snarled but still went to fetch the punch. He was the same age as Katniss and the only one of the three boys old enough to remember their mother – the baker’s second daughter. She had been friends with Katniss’ mother before Lily ran away from town to marry a coal miner named Everdeen.

Rye, the middle son, vanished as soon as he smelled freedom from the posing and smiling of the pictures.

Only the youngest lingered or seemed to offer any sort of kindness to her, his blue eyes curious and questioning, but not malicious. He never knew his birth mother at all. She had died bringing Peeta into the world.

Katniss watched as her husband — the thought made her tense up to keep from showing a physical reaction — ruffled the boy’s curls and spoke with important officials. Peeta stepped away from his father as soon as the touch ended. He moved closer to Katniss.

All for Prim, she told herself all evening long. Through cake and dances and well wishes that no one meant.

At least Prim was safe, she told herself when the mayor led her into the most luxurious bedroom she’d ever seen and told her it was hers. All hers.

At least Prim was safe, Katniss told herself as the mayor then led her to the adjoining room and told her this one was his. Two bedrooms for two people, each room on its own larger than her family’s old house in the Seam. She fumed at the extravagance. But at least she wouldn’t have to actually spend the whole night, every night, with him.

Then he kissed her and bit her lip. Dragged off the brand new white wedding dress, ignoring the sounds of ripping silk as he discarded it and growled that he was going to tame her, make her his.

At least Prim was safe, she told herself as she stifled her cries of pain in the pillow while the mayor slammed into her. Once. Twice. Thrice.

“Fuck,” he said and pulled out. “Touch yourself.”

“What?” she asked, unable to keep from looking at him. His dick was hanging in a curve towards the floor and streaked with a pinkish fluid.

“You’re not wet. Touch yourself.”

She hesitated and he sighed. Disappeared into his private bathroom and she thought perhaps she was off the hook.

Then he returned with two bottles. Pills clanked in one and he tossed one of them back, still watching her as she lay there in shock. He slathered the contents of the second over his dick and started to talk. The things he said frightened her. The things he said he wanted to do to her.

He stroked himself hard and entered her again. A dozen thrusts and then he flipped her onto her stomach. She stared at the door and held onto the sheets as he pounded into her.

Slap slap slap

Each thrust punctuated with a grunt.

At least Prim was safe, she told herself as the bedroom door opened and a wide eyed boy wandered in.

Slap slap slap

The mayor didn’t notice his youngest son watching them, or at least he didn’t stop even if he did. Should she say something?

But then the mayor was shouting in release and the boy was gone.

“Clean yourself up and go to bed.”

She did as ordered and stared out the window. She had known this was part of the deal. At least Prim was safe.

At midnight, she was still awake and heard the blare of a train horn as it left or entered the station. She couldn’t tell. She hadn’t know they ran this late. The Seam too far from the station to hear the horns from there.

The day after she married the mayor, Katniss set about doing something. She needed to do something before she gave in to the urge to claw her own skin from her body. With just her allowance, she now had more money to spend in a month than she’d ever seen before. She took the assistant cook and one of the maids with her and they shopped in the stores in town, then in the Hob. Whispers followed her in her fancy shoes and pearl draped neck. They weren’t too proud to take her money, at least, even if they wouldn’t look her in the eye or they spat on the floor as she left.

She ignored their disdain and their dirty looks and left her companions with Sae for a bowl of stew and a crust of bread. The servants seemed intimidated but did as the mayor’s new wife asked. While they were occupied, she bought all kinds of things she didn’t know if she’d have a use for.

And one that she knew she would.

The liquid glittered in the vial as the grizzled Seam woman explained she’d need a syringe to inject it but it would last for six months at least. It cost most of her allowance, but Katniss handed over the exorbitant sum without hesitating.

“I’ll be back for another in six months,” Katniss promised the woman who gave her a toothy smile.

When she returned to the mansion, she dealt with her purchases and then moved to head upstairs. The door to the office flew open and out raced Peeta, cheeks red and tear stained as he collided with her then recoiled.

“Don’t touch me!”

“That is no way to speak to your mother, young man. Apologize this instant,” the mayor commanded and Peeta’s jaw clenched.

He stared at the carpet as he muttered. “I’m sorry, Mother.”

“Good. Get upstairs. We’re done talking about this. And none of that drawing nonsense!”

It was only after dinner when her hip still smarted from injecting herself with a Capitol grade birth control that she heard the servants whispering and learned what had happened.

“Another fist fight. And the teacher caught him drawing in class instead of taking notes. Again. Mayor Mellark is sending him away to school.”

They clucked their tongues and shook their heads, bemoaning the poor sweet boy for being cursed with such a wretched father.

“Dad, I don’t want to go,” Peeta said just days later, sounding scared and plaintive at the train station.

“You’ll go and you’ll succeed. The Capitol has the best schools available. And hopefully, they’ll teach you some discipline and respect. Make you into a real man. Don’t embarrass me.”

The boy’s lip quivered and he glanced over at Katniss. She should hate this boy for everything he stood for, but as tears welled up in his blue eyes, she succumbed and bent over in front of him to speak to him eye to eye.

“It won’t be that long. You’ll be home for the summer break,” she assured him, surprised when he threw his arms around her neck and squeezed the breath out of her.

Then he picked up his suitcase and went without another word.

Peeta was only gone a month before he came home. Quiet and studious. He spent most of his time in the garden, drawing. But not even the mayor’s sons were safe from the Reaping.

Katniss almost wished it was her, but it wasn’t. Nor was it Prim, and she breathed easy for the space of two minutes. It was the mayor’s middle son that year. He died in the shadow of the Cornucopia, the last victim of the bloodbath at the start of the 77th Hunger Games. He was only fourteen years old.

The day after the Victor was crowned dawned hot and muggy. The Mayor spent all morning sequestered in his office. Right before the mid day meal, he summoned Katniss to him.

She bit back her tears as the room rang out with the slapping of skin and his guttural grunts. She could see the back of a blonde head through the ivory curtains covering the windows. The desk dug a furrow into the front of her hips as he swore and then slapped her ass raw. Her soft whimpers of pain got him hard enough to finish.

When she tried to move away from him, his fingers bit into her hips, holding them together.

“You’re gonna give me another son. I want a Victor. Strong. A survivor like you. Not a milk sap weakling like that pussy out there.” She tried again to get free and he wrapped a hand around her neck to hold her in place. “Don’t move. I want my cum in you as long as possible. Don’t move, baby.”

She tried not to shudder as he whispered about how good a mother she already was to his son. How he wished she had married him sooner. Then maybe she would have had a chance to turn his youngest son into a real man, but he feared it was already too late for Peeta. He pet her back and held her down for almost half an hour. All while she could see that same son through the window, sitting in the gardens. Maybe she could have taught the middle son her illegal skills to help him survive the arena, the mayor growled. When he finally let her go, he told her to be ready to get fucked often.

Several weeks later, long after Peeta had gone back to the Capitol, the mayor stood mid chew from the dinner table and walked over to her. He grabbed her hand and placed it over his hardening dick.

“My cycle started this morning,” she told him. His face contorted in disgust but he dropped her hand and walked away, grabbing his plate and leaving her to eat in the dining room alone.

When her period ended, he fucked her three times a day. He burned through half a dozen bottles of pills from the Capitol to do it.

“It’s only been a few months. Took my first wife a close to a year to conceive each of our boys,” he said as sweat poured down his face and her fingernails dug into her thighs to hold her legs open like he ordered her to do. “Give. Me. A. Fucking. Victor.” He bit out the words as his thrusts stuttered and he came.

A whole year of submitting to him.

She found solace in what she could now that she was the mayor’s wife and her woods were forbidden to her. Most had looked the other way when she was just Katniss from the Seam, but she was pushing it now by frequenting the Hob. Katniss Mellark, Mayor Mellark’s wife had no place poaching in the Capitol’s woods.

Katniss gave away money as best she could and people slowly stopped sneering at her. She renewed her contraband birth control shot six months after her wedding. Prim blossomed under the tutelage of the apothecary. The mayor’s oldest son moved to District Five to begin a career working for the government there.

Peeta called home once a month and reported to Katniss in a monotone voice that classes were going well and no, he hadn’t been in any fights. The reports that came home from the teachers described a model student. Bright, caring, hard working, quiet and well behaved, well liked by all his peers. The mayor grunted in satisfaction whenever he read the reports.

Katniss didn’t get pregnant.

He could have anything he wanted, the mayor, but she refused to give him this. The mayor’s house grew more tense and quiet with each passing month. The servants gave her pitying looks every morning she gently lowered herself into her chair for breakfast. The cooks learned her favorite foods and made sure her plate was never without something she loved. She used her ample funds to make sure the servants and their families never wanted. But she was powerless to protect their children from the Reaping.

Every night, she listened for the midnight train leaving District Twelve, longing to just climb aboard and vanish into the night. But then what would happen to Prim?

One day in early May, Katniss came home from afternoon shopping to the sounds of fucking in her husband’s office. A shrill pitched series of moans and loud thumping. The averted gazes of the staff. She watched curiously from the stairs, looking down towards the office door as the woman left.

“Pass the salt please,” she said at dinner that night.

The mayor smashed his fists on the table and shouted that she could damn well get it herself. He left the room and flipped over a serving tray on his way out.

Everyone ignored the sounds of him swearing and grunting from the conservatory later. Ignored the gardner as she slipped out after the sounds ceased, ducking her head and wiping her mouth as she ran from the house.

The gardner had three daughters all of Reaping age. All pretty blonde girls. Katniss couldn’t fault the gardner for seeking extra security for them.

The door between her room and the mayor’s was locked that night and remained locked.

“He’s infertile,” Helena, one of the maids, whispered as Katniss knelt next to the woman and helped her clean up the shattered crystal decanter, the most recent victim of his rage. “He found out right before your one year anniversary.”

“How?” Katniss asked and the maid pursed her lips to shake her head as one of the butlers passed by them, examining his cufflinks and not bothering to help.

“Doctor told him it’s because the pills he takes to, you know…help him,” Helena told her when the butler had gone.

Katniss could feel her cheeks turn pink as she scrubbed harder to get the bourbon out of the carpet. The pills to make him stay hard.

“Apparently it does damage if you take too many.” Helena squeezed Katniss’ shoulder as she stood when they were done. The touch felt like understanding.

She’d never felt freer than she did in the next two weeks.

The mayor refused to touch her beyond superficial or ceremonial events. In public they smiled, the picture of a thriving Panem family. At home, she listened to the walls echo with the sounds of her husband fucking everyone but her. Desperate to prove he could get someone pregnant. She didn’t want to fuck him. But she didn’t want anyone else punished either.

Year after year dragged on. Children died to the Games, twenty-three at a time. The name Primrose Everdeen never called at a Reaping. Never attached to tesserae.

“There’s a summer program for those interested in politics,” Peeta announced on the phone, around the time he turned fourteen, sounding serious but his voice cracking on a few words. He cleared his throat and asked her to tell his father. “I’ll be home for the Reaping, but then I’ll return here.”

There was always a summer program in the Capitol. But he always came home for the Reaping and stayed until the end of the Games.

Katniss spent hours socializing with high placed District and Capitol officials. She played hostess to them all. The mayor fucked her once every blue moon, just to remind her that she belonged to him. He never stayed hard for long and told her it was because she was no longer tight.

“Your cunt is used the fuck up. Who you fucking on the sly? Huh? Who you fucking on the sly, bitch?”

“The baker,” she said because she knew he wouldn’t believe her if she told the mayor the truth. Told him that he was the only one who had used it. She didn’t want to fuck anyone.

“I’ll have him killed in the middle of the fucking square. What do you want for him? Hanging or firing squad?” He grew harder inside her as he said it and her stomach roiled at the evidence of violence working to arouse him.

“Go ahead. Take your pick,” she said as the mayor finally came.

“You think I won’t? You’re not fucking the baker. You’d be stupid if you were,” he panted over her neck and played with her hair. She shuddered in revulsion and he took it for desire. He stayed on top of her and swallowed one of his pills and when he was hard again, he stood up and shoved her to her knees. “Suck until I tell you to stop.”

The year Peeta and Primrose both turned sixteen, Katniss somehow wound up meeting him at the train station, stunned at how much he had changed in the past year. The boy with the quivering lip was long gone, replaced by a boy — almost a man — who waved at her and smiled warmly in greeting, whose gait was now a confident swagger. He already towered over her and dwarfed her in breadth.

Peeta didn’t really look anything like his father beyond the blonde hair and blue eyes. The shades weren’t even the same. She wondered if his features took after his mother. She hoped they did, but her mental picture of the mayor’s first wife had already hazed over with time.

Peeta’s deepened voice, almost like velvet – so much softer than his father’s – sent strange currents through her as he sat across the table from Katniss, calmly eating dinner and explaining new models of government being debated in the dorm halls at his school.

“That will never work,” the mayor insisted.

“But—“

“No foolish talk at dinner!” the mayor said and Peeta jumped when his father’s fist hit the table.

Katniss kept her eyes on her plate. After dinner, she went for a walk in the garden and ignored the screams from her husband’s window.

“My father’s an idiot.” Peeta’s voice startled her and she jumped this time, heart fluttering as he stepped from the shadows.

“What would you know?” Katniss asked harshly. “You’re still just a child.”

“I won’t be for much longer. And when I’m not, if I’m lucky enough to have a wife like you, I wouldn’t be making love with anyone but her. I’d want her screaming not to please me, but because I’m the only one who can please her.”

She stared at his mouth, the lush lines of his lips as he smiled.

“I’d find every way to make you come and then discover twenty more just because I’d want you completely satisfied.”

“You shouldn’t talk like that. I’m – I’m your –”

“You’re not my mother,” he said, but it wasn’t cruel like the way his oldest brother said it. It left her panties wet. “Good night, Katniss.”

The day of the Reaping, Peeta stood in the square with every other child at risk. She found herself wishing safety for him as well this year.

His name wasn’t called. Neither was Prim’s.

As the Tributes made their way towards the Capitol, Peeta swam in the pool behind the Mayor’s house. His legs and arms powerful as he cut through the water.

Katniss watched him from an upstairs window. Unable to get his words about her out of her head. It wasn’t right. He was too young. He didn’t know what he was talking about, she was sure. Bold words he surely uttered to make himself sound older than he really was rang in her head. Her breasts grew heavy and her thighs slick with arousal with each successive lap he swam. She pressed her palm against the wall and her breath fogged up the window. No one had ever satisfied her the way he claimed to want to. She couldn’t give in to the illicit promise in his words.

He was still a child. And she was married to his father.

She turned away from the window and avoided him the rest of the time he was home. The morning he left, she faked a headache.

Two more years rolled by and Katniss listened to the whispers. Traded at the back door of the mansion with anyone who brought wares she could concoct an excuse for needing. Gale was one of her best suppliers. The mayor of Twelve served wild grown berries and fresh game, wild turkey and squash grown in secret just beyond the fence. Fish from streams in the woods, apples from the trees behind the town square. Guests from the Capitol and other districts marveled at the wild bounty of such a poor district.

Katniss owned shoes for every occasion and dresses to match. She filled the mayor’s closet with clothes made by merchants, the fibers plucked in secret from the woods around Twelve by Seam hands. Homemade remedies for sickness, old glass containers painted and dusted with shimmering powders, and rough hewn sculptures she claimed were art filled their shelves. In a way they were art, a story of desperation and starvation carved into loose bits of scrap wood.

She bought secrets with each purchase. Whispers of discontent. She followed dinner conversation assiduously, seeking the clues of arms and Peacekeeper movements. Signs of unrest in other districts. She felt she might burst with the information, not knowing where to turn with it or what to do as it built up inside her. She read the mayor’s Capitol papers and watched the news feeds, dutifully giving him highlights and reserving her analysis for herself.

The summer after he turned eighteen, Peeta came home for his final Reaping. Dinners were stiff and formal, the mayor holding tight to his anger at his son as Peeta touted the theaters, the arts and the museums of the Capitol and how bringing some of that culture to Twelve could help the people.

“They do not need art. Art is a distraction from labor.”

“Or art could be a form of joy that gives the laborer hope.”

The mayor stood abruptly at this. “Watch your tongue, boy.”

Peeta’s eyes flicked over to Katniss and dropped to the table as a smile played around his handsome lips.

“My apologies, father. I only meant that such hope would give them a reason to work harder.”

She managed to avoid Peeta for two days until one night she found herself hungry and walked the dark hall towards the kitchens. She ran into him there and he offered to cook for her while she sat and they talked. Words flew between them as fast as his hands worked and she soon found herself laughing, enjoying this easy version of him.

He told her about school and his classmates. The districts he’d been to on holidays with their families or on school outings. The beauty to be found in their world, hidden beneath the ugliness. The potential for the world to be beautiful again. He didn’t say that exactly, but it’s the foolish hope she heard in her head as he talked. Maybe their world could be good again, but so much would have to change first.

She watched his clever fingers as we worked and ignored the tightening in her belly when he licked them clean with a sensual smack. He caught her looking and smiled. The midnight train horn echoed through the night.

“When he told me to watch my tongue, do you know what I was thinking?”

“Peeta,” she tried to warn but he persisted.

“I was thinking that I’d like to watch my tongue working in and out of your wet pussy.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she whispered.

“Then teach me,” he whispered back. Heat curled in her belly and her body craved.

She left without eating and lay in bed, tossing restlessly until morning.

The next day, she saw him in the garden, sketching again. He really was quite talented. The mayor grumbled at him over dinner for wasting time on useless frivolities when he could be courting a wife of high position in the Capitol, engaging in politics, working to improve Panem, or a hundred other more important things.

That night, Katniss tossed in bed, once more unable to sleep. She could finally stand it no more. She ambled down the hallway, thinking she’d take a bath to relax herself, but was too absorbed in her thoughts to notice the shaft of light under the door. She walked in without knocking and came to a halt, gasping at the sight that greeted her.

Alerted by the sound, Peeta turned in the glass walled shower to face her and a smile slowly curled his lips up. She swallowed and her hand flew to her neck as she watched him. She couldn’t look away. Couldn’t tear her eyes away from his body. Toned and muscular with water running over him. His hair hanging over his ears and eyes, straightened and lengthened with the weight of the water saturating the normally curly locks. Blonde curls scattered over his chest, a dark trail of them leading her gaze down. Down to where his hand worked his stiff shaft in a steady rhythm. His teeth parted on a heavy breath and his lashes fluttered and still she could not move or look away.

“Shut the door, Katniss,” he said, barely audible over the sound of the water. She did as he said and leaned back on it as their eyes met. His hand pumped faster and his unoccupied palm flattened on the glass separating them. Steam curled through the air and he moaned softly right before his cum splattered across the shower door. Thick, milky white streams of it.

They stood there as he continued to pump himself. Until the last spurt coated glass and his shoulders heaved. Then he smiled and, still holding his cock with one hand, trailed two fingers of the other through his own semen, gathering it on the pads and offering it up to her.

“Want a taste?”

Her hand grasped wildly for the knob and she fled. Fled to her room where she paced and tried to quench the fire burning in her belly. But it was no use.

Katniss laid down on her window seat, dropped her hand to her navel and caressed, thinking of his fingers and lips and his intense blue gaze. His fit body and his charm and what it might feel like to have his face and his tongue between her legs. Her fingers in his hair. Slowly, her fingers traveled down her body, down to tug up the hem of her nightdress, over quivering skin as her thighs dropped open and her breathing grew ragged.

She ached for him to touch her as she’d never ached before. It made no sense. He was a spoiled, entitled Capitol brat. She should hate him with every cell in her body. But she came with a few frantic swipes of her fingers and the idea of Peeta’s tongue between her folds. She came hard and curled into a ball as the spasms wracked her body.

It was only as she lay there in the afterglow of release that it occurred to her. All he said was to shut the door. She could have left and then closed it. But she had stayed.

She had stayed because she had wanted to witness his pleasure. She wanted to take pleasure in watching him.

The shame of what she had done kept her in her room for five days until she had to leave it for the Reaping.

Prim was safe. Safe for real at last.

When Peeta left for a fancier school in the Capitol, one of higher education, Katniss braved taking him to the train station. He smiled at her and hugged her close, whispering that she’d be in his thoughts while he was gone.

In the autumn, Prim married the shoemaker’s youngest son. He moved into the apothecary and began training with her to take over the business eventually. Katniss was not invited to the toasting. But at least Prim was safe. By spring, Prim was pregnant and Katniss knew she would stay with the mayor, if only to keep that child safe too.

The next time Peeta came home, he was twenty and sporting a line of stubble on his jaw, his normally impeccable suit recklessly disheveled. Top buttons undone, tie loosened and swinging free, sleeves pushed up and his shoes scuffed. A hard edge in his blue eyes.

She followed him when he snuck out at night, telling herself it was because she didn’t want him to get in trouble with his father. Even the mayor’s son was subject to curfew.

She expected a trip to the slag heap or a shack in the Seam, a clandestine tryst with a woman.

Instead she watched him lean against a pole of the fence surrounding the district and light a cigarette. Trees grew close to this section of fence and cast shadows obscuring her view. She almost missed the papers passed through the dead wires into a gloved hand.

She left after that as Peeta stayed to finish his cigarette. He came home smelling of cheap perfume and smoke, with his clothes even more disheveled, a shirt tail hanging out and a smear of makeup on the collar, his hair messed up.

She stood there as his father lectured him about propriety and breaking curfew, about setting the example for the district as the mayor’s son, but while the words seemed harsh, the tone was proud. And once again, Katniss didn’t miss the handoff. This time it was a box of prophylactics. Capitol grade protection given to the mayor’s youngest son with a cheeky smile and a dirty wink. A pride and relief that “maybe he is just like his old man.”

Peeta entertained at dinners, making all the overprimped visitors laugh loudly and talk longer. Katniss held back a scowl at how easily he got them to open up, how deftly he flirted with both men and women alike. How easily he slid away with them to “show them the gardens.” But she guessed it was because Peeta was just like them.

Only he wasn’t.

Peeta treated everyone with kindness and respect. Dignity. From the diamond laced ladies of the Capitol to the lowest coal miner begging in the streets of District Twelve.

He snuck out at all hours and returned acting drunk or recently fucked, his footsteps loud and disruptive in the late night, but each time she followed him, all he did was walk along the District perimeter and smoke or disappear into The Hob well after the black market had closed down. Sometimes he wandered to the train station at night. She hid in the shadows and watched him laughing and conversing with the train workers, leaning against the back car and casually smoking a cigarette. Other nights, he played cards with Thread and some of the other Peacekeepers. She couldn’t stomach the sight of them laughing and talking boisterously.

And she couldn’t catch him with any women, try as she might. Or men. Not so much as one desperate Seam girl sucking his dick for a meal. There were the Capitol visitors who returned from the gardens flushed and bright eyed, but Katniss could never quite catch him in the act.

Katniss needed to know what Peeta was doing. It was consuming her.

She watched as he left with his father one day, carrying baggage and headed to the train station. The mayor had business in the Capitol and asked his son to see him off. He’d be gone for two weeks, and Peeta for at least an hour, giving Katniss plenty of time.

“I’ll take care of that, Meredith. I’ve got some energy I need to burn,” she told the maid and took the cleaning supplies from her hands. She ignored the profuse thanks as the woman hobbled away, her pregnant belly hindering her movements.

With a deep breath, Katniss entered Peeta’s room and set aside the supplies to quickly search his drawers. She grasped behind the furniture or up inside the drawers. Between the mattresses, she found half a dozen sketch books filled to the brim. Images of people from all walks of life, from the Districts, the Capitol, and everywhere in between. There were even some of her and the skill with which he captured every face took her breath away. Stunning landscapes and blindingly accurate portrayals of birds, animals, and plants. His father mocked him for his art, but Katniss wondered if he would if he knew how talented his son was.

In the bedside stand, she found nothing suspicious except an opened and half empty box of condoms. She dropped the box, scattering the foil wrapped packages as her gut squeezed in pain. Falling to her knees, Katniss gathered the items.

Her eyes flicked up as she tried to stand and she froze. Slid a hand beneath the bed and discovered a slit cut into the bottom. Reaching her hand inside, her fingers lit on an envelope. Her heart hammered in anticipation as she slid it loose. Leaving the condoms scattered, she stood and opened the envelope. Palms sweating as her eyes scanned the contents and her brain tried to deny what they meant.

“What are you doing searching my room?” His whispered words made her jump and spin. His fingers closed around her wrist and she stared up at him, struggling to gain her freedom. Peeta’s grip on her tightened, became almost painful. He smiled at her and her pulse fluttered, her skin vibrating beneath his hold.

“Let me go.”

“I can’t,” he said and the wavering note of desperation in his voice called to her.

Katniss did the only thing she could think of in the moment. She rose on her toes and pressed her mouth to his. His lips went pliant in seconds. Her fingers wove through his curly hair to grab hold of something steady as her entire world disintegrated.

Peeta was a rebel. A spy. A traitor.

As the pieces clicked into place, she fell back on his bed, dropping the damning evidence and taking him down with her as he moaned around her tongue and discovered her mouth with his. Her greedy hands searched under his clothes for skin. And her nails scraped over it when she found it.

“Do I have to fuck you into silence?” he whispered into her neck.

“Peeta, we can’t,” she whined, and yet her hands still grasped at the fastenings of his trousers.

“I locked the door. He’ll never know.”

They shed their clothes down to their underwear then he knelt on the floor and tugged her ankles until she was splayed before him, legs dangling over the edge of his bed.

“Fuck I can’t wait to taste you, Katniss. I’ll bet you’re delicious. Forbidden fruit always is.” She grabbed hold of his duvet and stared up at the carved and gilded ceiling, her breath raspy as his touch grazed her over her panties. “Soak these panties for me. Soak them with your need. Look at me while I touch you.”

Katniss lifted her head and their eyes locked together as his fingers stroked and pressed and his lips whispered kisses and words of longing and need to her thighs. She moaned and he shushed her. There were still servants in the house, after all.

When her panties were good and soaked, he slid them from her body and she tore off her bra, fondling her own breasts for him and pinching her nipples as heat settled firmly between her thighs.

“You are magnificent. You should be worshiped by someone who can appreciate how incredible you are,” he murmured and shoved her panties in his bedside drawer then shucked his own underwear. Katniss bit her lip to keep from groaning at his cock. Straight and thick, impossibly hard and embraced with coarse golden curls.

She wanted his cock but instead she got his mouth. He knelt again and inhaled deeply the fragrance of her arousal before latching his lips to hers, his blue eyes focused on hers, daring her to deny that she wanted this. That she needed him. She squirmed at first, a stranger to the sensations of a mouth there, but his wriggling tongue and insistent fingers soon had her writhing desperately against him. Then coming and pinching back a scream of relief.

“I’m gonna make you come like this again, Katniss,” he promised and draped her limp legs over his shoulders. “I’m gonna make you come like this until dinner.”

Peeta refused to relent. Refused to let her go. Making her come with his tongue pressed to her clit, inside her lips, then again on her clit with his finger slicked in lube and teasing her ass.

He did things to her she’d never dreamt possible and made her both curse and praise his Capitol education. As the sun sank lower, he finally stood and smiled down at her.

“Stay there. Please,” he said and with two dozen harsh strokes of his cock, he came all over her belly. When he was done, he gazed at her in wonder and gasped out two words. “A masterpiece.”

She lay there, soaked in sweat and his seed, her breathing harsh and her body exhausted yet still needy for more. She bit back disappointment as he put his shorts on and offered her bra to her.

Instead of taking it, she swirled her fingers through his cum and sucked it down her throat. His jaw dropped and she shrugged. “I wanted a taste.”

“Fuck,” he whispered and she stood, taking his undershirt from his hands and using it to clean herself. Then she dressed and slid out the door to go take a shower, hoping he couldn’t see the way her legs wobbled with weakness.

They didn’t speak during dinner. Not a word. But when he snuck out to the train station that night, she followed him. She watched him lean against the caboose and smoke a cigarette as he talked to the crews. When he finished that one, he lit his second and asked the crew about a new sign. They all looked in the direction he pointed, but Katniss watched him. Saw him affix something beneath the rear platform of the train car.

He waved good night shortly after and crushed his cigarette out as he left the train station. She cornered him and pushed him into the shadows.

“You’re a rebel spy,” she whispered and he grinned then turned on her so that his body shielded her from view, trapped her against the wall. Trapped her right where she wanted to be.

“And you’ve seen too much. How can I persuade you to keep this pretty mouth quiet?” He trailed his thumb over her bottom lip as he spoke.

“Kiss me,” she said and met him as his mouth descended towards hers. Their teeth clashed and pain radiated through her skull at the contact, but she refused to stop.

She wanted him. She wanted him for herself and since she’d turned eighteen and married the mayor, she had nothing she could call her own.

She wanted Peeta to be hers.

Her hands pushed at his jacket. He pulled her legs up and around his waist, pressed himself into her groin so she could feel his erection on her clit. He rocked his hips and swallowed her moans as they kissed. Then his lips trailed forbidden fire down her throat.

“Fuck me, Peeta. Fuck me hard and deep. Oh fuck I need you to fuck me right here,” she whispered as his hand ran up her thigh, up beneath her dress to the apex of her thighs. She twisted and thrust herself towards his fingers, desperate to have his touch on her aching nub.

“You want me to use my fingers or my cock?”

“Oh! Both,” she gasped and clung to him as his fingers entered her. One finger and then a second as she whined and bit into his shoulder.

“Fuck yourself on my fingers,” he urged and she rocked her hips, caught his thumb on her clit and cried out. He kissed her to silence her and then the train engine fired up, the loud noise covering the sounds she made as she came. And then their relieved moans as he entered her.

The second she felt his coarse hair on her lips, she moved. Rolling and rocking and unwilling to give an inch as he drove into her and she sang quiet praises at how well he filled her. How much he pleased her. He fucked her as the train warmed up. As the wheels squealed when it began to move. Her body arched and bounced and then sprang loose. She clung to his shoulders as her release rocked through her and coaxed his out of him too.

“Fuck, Katniss. I can’t stop wanting you,” he moaned in the dark. Right before the midnight train blared it’s horn.

They had two weeks. Two weeks of fucking in the closets, behind the Hob, in the middle of the night when the rest of the household was fast asleep. Katniss even risked taking Peeta into the woods so she could fuck him by the shores of the lake where she often fished as a girl. But it wasn’t all fucking.

She told him everything. About watching Prim grow from a distance and not being able to be a part of that. She told him about missing her sister and the longing she felt for her woods every day that she breathed. The desire she kept in her heart to watch their world burn so she could finally be free.

She told him everything. All the pent up knowledge of years of hunting with her father, how to survive in the woods. She spilled out years worth of gossip. Who was loyal to the Capitol and who was lukewarm, and those who were too eagerly loyal to not be hiding something.

They entertained together in his father’s absence and people remarked what a fine young man and model son he turned out to be, a line she taunted him with when she was grinding her pussy on his face later that night. He responded by throwing her off of him and then pounding her to a mind numbing orgasm with his cock buried inside her lips and his hand over her mouth to stop her ecstatic squeals from getting too loud.

“I’m a terrible son,” he whispered in her ear, his breath hot and his voice soft as she came.

He spoke about his brother who died in the games and the blows his father would strike his sons to discipline them, always on the back where no one could see beneath the fine clothes. He told her about the many faces he wore. The masks used to extract information and secrets. The mayor’s playboy wastrel youngest son with a talent for art and politics but no real ambition. Skilled at seduction and kissing secrets out of bored Capitol socialite wives. Women who needed a good fuck and an incredible orgasm and couldn’t find it in their marriage bed. Women who posed for him so he could draw them, after he’d made them come.

“As a souvenir for them to remember me by,” he explained with disgust in his voice. Then he told her it all started with his classmates’ mothers.

“Seduce me. Show me your best moves,” Katniss teased and he chuckled.

“Thought I already did.”

But he kissed her and reached for the pearl necklace she’d discarded on the bedside table when she’d shed her clothes. Peeta told her to get on her knees and she did so, eager to suck his cock, something she’d discovered she could take great pleasure in as long as it was Peeta’s dick in her mouth. Instead, he knelt behind her and threaded the pearl strand between her thighs. He slid the pearls over her panties, back and forth, the ridges created by the string of orbs catching on her clit. He did that and whispered to her about her spirit and her strength and how she inspired him. He whispered that she was his everything.

He teased her to the brink with the pearls and his words until she was so wet her panties stuck between her folds and her nails bit crescents into his thighs as she held him in place behind her.

“Now fuck me. Take me how you want me,” he told her and held the pearls in place as she lowered herself onto his cock so they rubbed over her clit and slid between her folds as she rode him and came with stifled moans, making the pearls slick with their sex. After, they lay in his bed as late into the night as they dared, listening to the midnight train leaving.

The mayor returned. Katniss rebuffed all of Peeta’s veiled advances and innuendos, constrained by the presence of his father. Peeta grew sullen. Her heart ached. Burst with pain, deprived of his touch. She wore the pearls every day and fingered them to seek strength.

The masks suffocated and chafed, but they continued the ruse. Peeta snuck out at night to send messages and information off to contacts in other Districts. They played their parts, entertaining their guests and gleaning every whisper of rumor and every drop of truth they possibly could.

The entire happy family took a holiday tour of the Arenas and Katniss tried not to show her disgust.

Then to the Capitol where she saw in blinding oversaturated hues just how deep the Game went. She saw it in a mirrored window as Peeta whispered into another woman’s ear, his words making the woman blush and giggle. Then they disappeared for hours. Bile rose in her throat when he joined her for breakfast the next morning.

“You were out late last night,” she sneered and the mayor laughed, commented on his son’s prowess with the ladies and Katniss’ overprotective motherly instincts. Peeta smirked at his father and slathered butter over his biscuit. But there was a brief look of pain in his eyes meant only for Katniss.

On the train back to District Twelve, she felt the walls closing in on her. Near midnight, she capitulated sleep and, checking the corridors, made her way to Peeta’s compartment, locking the door behind her. She slid a hand over his mouth to keep him from making a sound and woke him with a whisper. His body jolted and a knife glittered in the moonlight. He stopped himself right as the blade reached her throat. It nicked the pearls still draped around her neck and never reached her skin.

He dropped the blade and she dropped her hand.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

They whispered the words to each other on repeat as their bodies rocked with the motion of the train and the clanging bells as they raced through an unknown district covered the sounds they made as they both succumbed to euphoria.

“I fucking hate this,” she whispered as she lay on top of him, spent but unwilling to leave just yet and knowing that she must.

“Only a little longer and then we’ll be free.”

She slipped away in the early morning and cried into her pillow until she needed to rise and dress.

“It’s disgusting. What do they hope to gain?” the mayor said to his son as they shared a drink and watched the news reports from the Capitol. Rebels had taken control of Districts Eleven, Four, Eight, and Seven. Additional Peacekeepers were on their way to all other Districts. All officials were on alert to capture spies. Katniss watched from the doorway as Peeta brushed off his father’s concerns, placated him with assurances that the might of the Capitol would overcome. This was only a minor setback.

Fire danced on the screen, mesmerizing her. Hypnotizing and beautiful. This was how the world looked when it was burning.

The pair was so engrossed with their conversation, they didn’t notice Katniss in the doorway behind them. Or the change to a report on wanted spies and traitors. A technology genius and former Victor from District Three who had vanished. A pair of stylists from the Capitol and the famed film director, Cressida.

They were still absorbed as the screen switched to a grainy, shadowy picture of a man in a train station, identified only as The JabberJay, a suspected spy and rebel conspirator from the Capitol, real identity unknown. A breathtaking sum offered for any information that would lead to the man’s capture.

She held her breath until the picture changed. Her knees wobbled in relief that the mayor hadn’t even noticed his son’s back pictured on the television.

“You need to be more careful,” she urged at the back door as he slipped out into the night.

“I’ll be fine,” Peeta said with a smile and kissed her cheek. “I’ll be back before midnight.”

She couldn’t sleep. She paced and then wandered to the kitchen for a glass of milk. It tasted sour on her tongue as she waited. She sat by the window in her room and let her head rest on the glass as the midnight train blared it’s horn and still no sign of Peeta.

Katniss contemplated her options. She had no idea where to start looking for him. She’d put herself at risk if she just wandered the district aimlessly. And if she found him, she could put him in even more danger than he already was. It was better to wait and trust that he could take care of himself. He’d been a spy for years and knew what he was doing.

She woke stiff and unrested, and she stumbled from the window seat, downstairs to a household in uproar. The mayor shouting instructions to have the District turned upside down. His youngest son had disappeared.

That night, the mayor told Katniss to dress in her pearls and pretend nothing had happened.

“You tell everyone that Peeta went back to school early,” he growled and she nodded as she sat at her vanity to apply her makeup. She understood the game. She nearly gagged when he placed a hand around her throat to force her to look at him in the mirror. “My son is not a traitor…understood?”

She swallowed beneath his grip, her skin pushing into his and her windpipe constricting under the hold. “Our son is not a traitor,” she croaked.

“Good girl,” the mayor said and released his hold.

For weeks, she played the game. She knew the rules now since Peeta had told her everything he did. She walked late into the night delivering the packets Peeta used to. At first, she had no way of knowing if they fell into the right hands. But she smiled at dinners and fabricated stories about Peeta’s education in the Capitol, oozing charm and loving happiness for her husband.

She paid visits to Thread and the Peacekeepers under the guise of concern for her missing stepson and the future of Panem, but really to gain their trust through gifts of food and drink in a well crafted helpless rich wife act. There was no word or sign of Peeta but her visits were never fruitless.

At night, she listened for the sounds of the midnight train and held onto her memories, once more wishing she could just climb aboard one and vanish into the night.

But she had a new purpose now.

Months passed and she grew angry in secret. He left her here. If they’d caught him, they would have paraded him in front of a crowd and executed him publicly, gruesomely. Made an example of him. Which meant he’d left her. Peeta left her here to suffer and probably to die. At least, she would die on the inside without him.

Winter arrived and she contemplated ways to end her life. She had no one left. Peeta had lied to her and then left her. Used her. She was certain of it. He had seduced her and used her for the information she could provide. Worst of all, she had fallen willingly into his arms, had believed it was all real. Just like one of his Capitol lovers.

They lost District Six and then Ten to the rebels. Nine and Five were tenuous at best. Thirteen came out of the shadows and Katniss wondered if theirs were the hands reaching through the fences to grasp hold of the information she and Peeta had possessed.

Winter turned to spring.

Or maybe Peeta had been killed in quiet. Maybe Snow couldn’t risk such a high profile, publicly known traitor. The son of Twelve’s mayor, a favorite of Snow’s, a man who could have had everything and anything he wanted. Who else might begin to question the Capitol if he had betrayed them?

She had kept her shot to prevent pregnancy current for eight years, but in that moment of weakness, for the first time ever, she briefly wished it would have failed her. Just once. Then she’d at least have a piece of Peeta to love. The moment passed and she remembered that she couldn’t bear to bring a child into this life. Not even Peeta’s.

Katniss sank into her bath water and cried with her face hidden beneath the scented bubbles. It would be better if he were already dead. So she told herself that he was gone forever. At least he was free that way.

The longer Peeta stayed missing, and the worse things became for Twelve, the easier it became to convince herself. The mayor was angry enough in public for both of them. Punishments increased as the mayor desperately tried to hold onto Snow’s favor, and Katniss took more risks with what she revealed to the rebels.

She shook her head and agreed with the mayor’s disgust at the reports of assassinations, sabotage, derailed trains carrying Peacekeepers or supplies, many of which Katniss knew were at least partially her fault.

Her fault.

The words made her smile in secret. At night when she touched herself and bit back cries of Peeta’s name. He had left her, either by design or by death, but she still wanted him. She could understand him now. Even though he was gone.

Reports of new spies appeared on the news feed. They called her The Mockingjay and wherever her information aided the rebels, they painted the bird they named her for in red. As the months dragged on, the Capitol bled fear, the stench of it replacing all their honeyed perfumes. They whispered her name – The Mockingjay – over dinners, clutching their jewels and bemoaning what would be lost next.

Feeling the noose tightening, the mayor begged his friends in the Capitol to shelter him, just until this little rebellion was quelled. But fear is a powerful weapon, as is rumor. And everyone knew that Twelve’s mayor was close to being replaced. No one had space for him and his wife.

The year Peeta would have turned twenty-one, there would be no Reaping. The night before it was scheduled to occur, the mayor’s wife paid a visit to the main power substation and left two baskets of treats with the Peacekeepers guarding it. The baskets contained four bottles of cold beer laced with sleep syrup. Enough to knock them out for an hour. On her way out, she dropped an apple packed with explosives and a timing device. Dropped it at just the right spot to roll where she needed it to go.

Gale had helped her build it, his eyes dark and suspicious when she’d asked for it. She couldn’t tell him what it was for. She couldn’t put her old friend at risk if it failed.

She had sent word to the rebels weeks ago. Telling them in code what their window would be. Now it was up to them to take advantage.

When she was done, she went home to soak in her tub. Afterwards, she put on her pearls and satin robe over her nightdress. She braided her hair and waited.

District Twelve burned that night. Rebels swarmed over the deactivated fences and gunned down Peacekeepers in the streets. Screams rent the night.

The mayor barricaded himself in his mansion with his wife, holding several of the maids hostage at gunpoint. It wasn’t enough. Rebels and Seam and Merchant alike overpowered him and forced him to his knees on the front steps. They dragged Katniss out the door behind him, kicking and screaming. Fighting for her life. Putting on a good show because in reality, she welcomed death by now.

As someone held a gun to her bent head, she reached up and twisted the pearls around her fingers so the last thing that went through her brain before the bullet would be thoughts of Peeta.

“Stop!” Katniss risked looking up at the rebel in all black as he approached the steps, a familiar swagger to his gait. Her pulse stopped in disbelief. “Not her.”

“She’s the mayor’s wife.”

“No. She’s The Mockingjay.”

Katniss heard the mayor yelling obscenities at both of them as Peeta stepped into the light and smiled at her. She didn’t see the mayor struggling against his captors as he tried to get to her, her eyes too busy taking in Peeta – healthy and whole and alive and safe. Here, with her.

She heard the crack of the rifle butt on the mayor’s skull as Peeta ordered the rebels to let her go. She barreled down the steps and flew into Peeta’s arms, barely flinching when the rebels lodged a bullet in the mayor’s skull, silencing his furious tirade.

“You’re alive. You’re back,” she sobbed and he bent his head so that his lips just touched her neck, right above the pearls, and warmth spread through her. It felt so impossibly good to be in his arms again.

“I’m sorry I stayed out so late,” he whispered and she laughed as the rebels torched the mansion behind them, the flames crackling high into the midnight sky.

#Springtime Edition 2018 #katnissdoesnotfollowback #567inpanem #prompt 52 #late submission #submission

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swoleovan · 6 years ago

Text

Fingertips Across My Skin

{4.8.19, 11:00 PM}

Clyde threw his phone on the bed, along with himself. A sigh escaped him as he wrapped his inner elbow around his eyes, surrounding his vision in complete darkness. This plan of Eric’s was very much out of his usual comfort zone, Clyde wasn’t built to be malicious in any way. But he was angry, and cheated. It all felt too unfair. He knew it wasn’t the right thing to do, but he’s doing it anyway. He’s going to help break whatever thing is going on between his dad and Liane.

Liane was a good soul. She was always kind to him when he was younger, always asked him if he wanted some snacks and just all already reminded him of a good mom. It’s not like it was a bad choice in a woman. Clyde could think of a million and one different ladies his dad could have been with that would have been terrible for the family. Clyde was angry because it was happening. He didn’t want his dad to move on. He didn’t want a new mom. He didn’t want anyone to replace his mother. No one had the right.

He removed his arm and sat up in bed, glancing at his phone. Eric had yet to respond. He might be stirring up some plan that suggests they kill Roger. Clyde will have to do everything in his power to convince his friend that no, murder is not the answer. The brunette looked back at the clock that sat on his end table. It was late. He should probably get to bed.

Clyde shrugged the jacket off of him, throwing it on the ground in a pile of dirty laundry. He kept telling himself he was going to pick it all up later, but then later always came too soon and he’d push it back again. Maybe now was the time to do it. He stared at the pile for a bit, then walked over to his hamsters cage. Maybe he’ll pick it up finally later. Sunshine was resting peacefully in her little favorite corner, and Clyde didn’t want to bother her. So he just opened the door a tiny bit to pour in some food for the night, and closed it as softly as he could.

Buff was no where to be found, as usual. Clyde just stepped out of his room and nudged the food bowl with his toe, trying to leer Buff out of his hiding spot. It didn’t work. Oh well, looks like he’ll just see him in the morning. The boy poured food in there as well.

The television wasn’t running. Clyde knew this because he was the only one in the house. But he could still hear soft noises, as if a conversation was being held somewhere in the house. Clyde stood up straight, slowly, listening as carefully as he could. When he determined that yes, that was someone voice in his house, he reached into his room to find his metal baseball bat for protection. He hoped it was just one of the guys coming over for an unexpected sleep over. Kevin did say he wanted to stay with him all week while his dad was gone, after all. But Clyde receive any information about it. So he could only assume the worse.

He took small steps towards the stairs, his ears twitching every time he heard that noise. He couldn’t make out the words, but now he could hear something being tussled with. Part of him thinks Buff turned the tv on again, and that he’s getting worked up over nothing. But his heart still ran fast, and his hands shook every so slightly with fear of the intruder also having a weapon.

When he got to the stairs, however, he didn’t hear anything coming from down them. Confused, Clyde lowered his bat. The minute he did, a gust of chills ran down his spin, making him physically shiver and almost dropped the object completely. He sucked in air, his knees shaking. When he let out the breath, he was baffled to see visible evidence of his breathing. What the hell, how cold was it in here? He felt his nose begin to freeze, and he moved towards the thermostat. But the sounds started up again, this time loud enough to know exactly where it was coming from.

Down the hall, to the left. The hallway bathroom. Clyde stared at the door in fear. He hasn’t been in that room since his mothers death. No one has, really. The toilet was ripping from the tiles and the sink and shower was covered in rags and plastic. It would be locked, if it weren’t for it only doing so from the inside. The brunette swallowed his fears, whoever snuck into his house was definitely asking for it now. That room is off limits to everyone. And Clyde was going to show them why.

Each step made him colder, made his heart beat faster. When he got to the door, the whispering became louder. His muscles twitched at the noise of a woman, sounding like she was in pain. Maybe a homeless lady who was hyped up on drugs. Clyde heard about that happening to other people. He gripped his bat tighter, and tried his hardest to speak with the most intimidating tone he could muster, “You’re caught. Whoever’s in there can come out now. Or else I’m going to force you out.”

For a moment, there was nothing. Clyde thought he’d have to fight someone tonight. But just as his hand wrapped around the door handle, the softest, most familiar voice reached his ears, calling his name. He dropped his bat instantly, eyes wide and heart stopping.

“Clyde... Clyde, baby...”

The momentary shock fell through, Clyde was angry. How dare someone come in here and impersonate his dead mother. He practically punched the door open, steam coming out of his ears in pure rage, “How dare—“ he stopped, the feeling of coldness consuming his entire body instantly. It was practically an freezer in here! But most important, Clyde saw nothing. The voice was gone.

He walked in the bathroom bravely, looking around in every corner... what was going on? Clyde crosses his arms to keep himself warm. Whatever it was making that noise, it’s gone completely now. He didn’t hear anything else.

Choosing to believe he’s going crazy and not about to be murder, Clyde walked towards the door. He reached for the knob, but it wouldn’t turn. Trying with all his might, he yanked and jingled it to free himself. What the hell? It was like someone was holding the other side. Buff doesn’t have thumbs!

“Hey!” Clyde banged on the door, causing the walls to rattle, “When I get out of here I’m kicking some ass!” Fucking robbers! Just take stuff and leave!

“Sweetheart,”

Clyde stopped mid bang. No no, that time it was too clear. It was right behind him. There’s no way anyone could fake that. Face going pale, he turned, slowly, breathing hard and not at all.

There she was. The face he thought about so often. The face he looked at every time he used his computer. His mom stood at the height Clyde remembered her at, only he was much taller than her now. Her hair was perfect, not a single strand out of place, her skin soft looking, arms looking inviting and warm. Clyde pressed himself against the door, trying to keep his balance. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. His mom smiled at him, which made his breath get caught in his throat.

“Your father is trying his best. He’s moving on.”

“Mom,” Clyde’s eyes went red, a cough like sound escaping his throat. It felt tight. He slid down the door, giving up on standing. Betsy took steps forward, and before he knew it she was sitting in front of him, graceful and lady like. Clyde reached forward with a shaking hand. She took it in here and gave him a squeeze.

She felt so real.

“It’s going to be okay, ducky,” Betsy reached forward with her other hand to cup Clyde’s now tear filled cheek, “you and your father don’t have to get along. I’m sorry I’m not here to keep the peace.”

Clyde breathed in rigged breathes, the tears nonstop. He could barely see, but she was so clear. So bright, and lively, and mom like, “M-Mo-om—“

“Sh, sh,” Betsy smiled wider, her own eyes looking a bit puffy, “sometimes life is like this. You need to be yourself, plum. Love yourself, and whoever you want. Your dumb dad can’t control you, and will probably never understand. But he is grieving as well. Do not mistake his selfishness with apathy.”

Clyde threw himself at her, wrapping his arms around her as tightly as he could. He didn’t know how this was happening, but he won’t waste a second figuring it out. He needed her. He missed her. He cried in her shoulder as she embraced him back. He called for her so many times.

“I love you, my baby boy.”

Clyde squeezed, but he didn’t feel her anymore. He opened his eyes painfully, looking around. He was hugging nothing. The room was a normal temperature now, and his clothes were wet from his face. He sniffed, leaned back and continued to cry.

Why did life have to fuck him over like this.

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andromytta · 6 years ago

Text

What’s a Snookie?

SPN Rare Ship CC: Round 20 | andromytta vs. @inter-ruptingmoose

Prompt: Ice Cream Cones

Ship: Claire Novak/Kevin Tran

Word Count: 1631

No Archive Warnings Apply. Tags:

Fluff and Humor

Snookie may be OOC

fanboy dean

boardw

Summary: Two families go on vacation to celebrate getting into Princeton. Two soon to be Ivy Leaguers realize they have a common passion.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15498963

Written for @spngenrebingo Square Filled: Free Fluff

Claire Winchester-Novak was going to have the greatest two weeks of her life. Her dads were taking her and her best friend, Alex Hanscomb-Mills, to the Jersey Shore to celebrate her getting a full ride to Princeton. It also worked out well for Alex’s moms, who were in Europe taking a second honeymoon. Claire couldn’t think of a better way to spend the time between high school and college than with her favorite people in the world.

Three days into their trip, the four of them were walking along the boardwalk, as they had done the days previous. Claire and Dean were in the middle, with Castiel next to Dean and Alex next to Claire. Claire suddenly looks up at her dad and says, “Hey! Do you think we’ll be blessed with a Snookie sighting?”

“What’s a Snookie?” Castiel and Alex asked simultaneously.

Dean and Claire shared a love of trash TV that the others just didn’t get. Dr. Sexy, MD and Jersey Shore were their favorites to binge watch, and they were both fans of Snookie. When the reality show star had a guest role on Dr. Sexy, they wouldn’t stop talking about it for days. Clearly no one was paying attention.

“Actually, Kiddo,” Dean began as he pulled something up on his phone and held it up to her, “we are definitely getting a Snookie sighting today, and an autograph.”

Claire excitedly grabbed his phone out of his hand as she read the screen. “She’s doing a book signing? Here? At the boardwalk? And you’re taking me? You are the best dad ever!” She stood on tiptoes to kiss his cheek before handing his phone back.

“Hey, what am I, chopped liver?” Castiel asked from the other side of his husband.

“Ok, fine, you’re an awesome dad too,” Claire replied and kissed his cheek as well.

“Ugh. I think I’m going to puke!” Alex announced from Claire’s other side.

“Hey, just because Jody and Donna dumped you with us instead of taking you Europe is no reason to rain on our happy family parade, young lady,” Dean quipped.

Alex dropped her head in her hand and groaned. “Why do I even know you people?”

Claire slung an arm around her best friend’s shoulders. “Because you love me, and you know I come with dork dad baggage.”

“Hey, I thought we were awesome!” Dean protested.

Claire shrugged. “I’m a teenaged girl. My affections are fickle.”

“Yeah, yeah. Once I get you to Snookie, I’ll be awesome again.”

“It’s possible.”

***

Elsewhere on the boardwalk, Kevin Tran and his mother Linda were also taking a holiday to celebrate his own full ride to Princeton. Kevin was currently pleading with his mom to take him to the aforementioned bookstore.

“I can’t believe with your limited exposure to television for one hour a week, you spent it watching trash television! What else did you watch? That horribly inaccurate Dr. Sexy, MD? You could have been watching National Geographic.”

“Mo-om! I have to rest my brain somehow! Relaxation is just as important for neurological development as study is. Man cannot live on caviar alone!”

“Ok, fine, we’ll go see this Snookie. You did work hard all through high school, and you’ll be working even harder once you start college. I suppose you deserve your hobbies.”

“Great! Let’s go!” Kevin practically dragged his mom down the boardwalk towards the bookstore.

They made short work of their journey, and soon Kevin found himself standing in line to meet the reality star of his dreams. His mother was standing off to the side, trying to look stern, but failing miserably, her son’s joy bringing a smile to her face. Kevin was bouncing on the balls of his feet and trying to see the autograph table over the crowd, paying no mind to the line forming behind him.

Claire and Dean arrived around the same time, standing in line while Castiel and Alex stood off to the other side, rolling their eyes fondly. Claire had her back to the person in front of her as she was animatedly talking to Dean about their favorite Snookie moments. “Remember when she was on Dr. Sexy and she played a ghost, but being transparent didn’t take away from her sassiness and she was like…” Claire was gesturing wildly and didn’t notice when she took a step back and ran right into the back of Kevin Tran.

“Hey, watch it…” Kevin started just as Claire turned around to apologize.

“Oh, I’m so sorry…” The words trailed off as their eyes locked, blue to brown. Claire was the first to break the silence. “Um, hi. I’m Claire.” She offered her hand to him to shake.

He gulped and accepted the proffered hand. “Kevin, uh, my name…that’s my name.”

Claire smiled brightly at him. “Nice to meet you, Kevin.”

Dean not-so-subtly pulled their still clasped hands apart. “I’m Claire’s Dad. Nice to meet you,” he grumped as he shook hands with the stunned boy.

“Um…hi Claire’s Dad…” Panic started to fill his chocolate eyes as Dean continued to shake his hand aggressively.

“Dad, stop,” Claire ordered, removing his hand and pushing him back.

As the line crept forward, Claire engaged in small talk with the cute boy in front of her, much to Dean’s dismay. He tried to join the conversation multiple times, but backed off when Claire scowled at him, so he resigned himself to standing behind her and pouting. He wasn’t able to engage his daughter’s attention again until they were at the autograph table.

Claire was first. “Oh my God. You’re amazing, I love you so much. You were my favorite on Dancing With the Stars,” Claire gushed as her book was signed. “My dad brought me because I got into Princeton,” she continued on. Snookie signed her book “Congrats on the Ivy League. Love, Nicole.” Claire stared at her book as she was waiting for Dean.

“Uh, hi, um, Nicole. You’re so pretty,” he stammered awkwardly as he presented his own copy of her book.

Claire interrupted. “That’s my dad. Sorry he’s such an old skeezer.”

“I dunno, he’s kinda cute,” she replied as she started to sign. “You got a name, Daddio?”

“Dean. My name’s Dean.”

She finished signing and handed his book back. “Here you go, Hot Stuff.” She winked at him as he clutched the book to his chest and backed away.

Dean was so stunned by his interaction that he didn’t even notice when Claire wandered off with Kevin. In a daze, he found where Castiel and Alex had been waiting for them. “Snookie thinks I’m cute,” he said to Castiel.

“Well, that makes one of us,” his husband replied dryly.

“Shut up, you love me.”

“You’re lucky I do,” Cas said as he looked around for their daughter. “Dean, where’s Claire?”

Alex chuckled as she spoke up. “Over there with that cute boy she bumped into in the line.” She pointed to where the two were ducking out the door. “Oh great, now I’m stuck with the Dork Dads.”

***

Claire giggled as she and Kevin ducked out of the store, ditching their parents. “Hmmm, I guess I should feel bad stranding Alex with my dads,” she said as they made their way down the boardwalk.

“Alex? Is that your boyfriend?” Kevin asked nervously.

“No, Alex is a girl,” Claire replied vaguely.

“Oh, so your girlfriend?”

“Haha. No, just my best friend. More like a sister. My girlfriend and I broke up after her mom died and she had to move away.”

“So, you’re single?” Kevin fished for information.

“Yep. You?”

“Uh, yeah. Ever since my girlfriend went crazy and slit her roommate’s throat. I’m pretty sure she got possessed by a demon.”

“Wow. Creepy. So, what do you say we go get some ice cream?” Claire’s ability to gloss over the most uncomfortable situation with food was surely a habit she picked up from Dean.

“Oh, uh, ok. Sure.”

They walked to a little ice cream stand a few blocks away from the bookstore. Claire ordered the “Napoleon,” a giant waffle cone filled with five scoops of whatever flavors she wanted. Kevin paid, even though he didn’t get anything but water. They sat at a nearby bench and when Kevin tried to dip a spoon into Claire’s cone, she pulled it away.

“Dude! If you wanted ice cream, you should have ordered some!”

“But, I thought you were going to share. Especially when you asked me what kind of ice cream to get.”

“I was looking for a suggestion, not offering you my treat.”

“Rude! I bought it!” Kevin couldn’t help but laugh.

“Ok, fine. You can have a bite. One bite, from this layer.” She pointed at the third scoop down, a blue one with multicolored bits throughout.

“Awesome, bubblegum. I always wanted to try that flavor.” Kevin helped himself to a hearty spoonful of the confection.

“Hey, not so much!” Claire protested with a laugh.

Kevin grinned at her and went in for another bite. “So, Claire, what would you say if I asked you out for dinner and movie?”

“I’d ask what’s for dinner and what movie?”

“Hmmm….” Kevin made a show of thinking deeply. “Burgers and the new Marvel film?”

“Make it Star Wars or no deal.”

“Done. Saturday night?”

“Done. We’re staying at the Palms, room 210. Pick me up at 7?”

“Hey, so are we. 310.”

Claire looked at him, shy for the first time. “We could walk back together?”

“Ok.” Kevin stood up and reached for her hand.

She let him pull her up and they were met with three pairs of stern parent eyes: blue, green, and brown. Alex stood off to the side with her arms crossed over her chest. “Busted,” she chuckled at them.

#spnrareshipcc #Claire/Kevin #Claire Novak/Kevin Tran #inter-ruptingmoose #appearance by snookie #ice cream cones #spngenrebingo #free fluff

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newathensrp · 6 years ago

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OOC Information

Name: Lest

Age: 19

Pronouns: he/him

Timezone: EST

IC Information

Name: Aodhan Ward

Age/Years At Camp: 20 yrs old, has been coming since he was 15

Pronouns: he/him

God: Apollo

Powers: Audiokinesis - In addition to being able to easily pick up new instruments, he has an ability to put emotions and other feelings into music he plays. for example, he could play a note that gives a positive feel those who hear it that could be interpreted as a yes or positive response to something, or a handful of notes to portray being angry. While the feelings he puts into his music doesn't necessarily inflict that feeling onto listeners (though it can if he has the intent to and puts the energy into it, but it’s much more draining then just portraying a feeling.), it does add another guaranteed emotional layer to music being able to make happy songs inflict a sad feeling and vise versa. His instrument of choice is the irish bouzouki, which he carries on him at all times. Biokinesis - like most of his siblings, Aodhan can heal with his voice, however it's rarely used because he is selectively mute. He has tried to re-purpose this power to work with instruments with no avail. Misc - surprisingly athletic, and while he's skilled in many games he has terrible luck that usually result in him tripping or having his chances ruined somehow. Unlucky - Aodhan is plagued with terrible luck. He tends to carry good luck charms with him in an attempt to negate it and is willing to buy into pretty outlandish stuff in the name of a good luck charm. Selective muteness - not particularly a power, but an important aspect of himself. It stems from psychological problems and not a physical issue, so it can’t be fixed with ambrosia. He can speak to himself when he’s alone, or when he’s with people he feels close to and safe with. He can also sometimes make small humming sounds depending on how he feels in a specific situation.

Personality: Outwardly, Aodhan tries to be polite and easy to get along with, and while that isn’t necessarily a false front, his inability to speak most of the time ends up making him keep most of his thoughts to himself since he typically isn’t around anyone who knows ASL so he’d rather act easy to get along with to avoid tough situations where he’d have to explain himself. he’s a very frank person and isn’t he type to lie to keep someone else happy and he tends to give his opinion whether it’s wanted or not. He’s very expressive with his face and body language to make up for not being able to express himself with words most of the time. He gets bored easily but feels guilty admitting it so he tries not to show it but isn’t very good at it. He feels a drive, pretty much conditioned into him, to fit in with people around him and he’ll sometimes catch himself making slight and subtle changes to himself to fit in easier with whatever group he’s with. Though he tries to ignore it most of the time, the want to conform does win over sometimes so he can sometimes come off as fake or superficial to people. While it’s something he does pretty much unconsciously without realizing it, it’s something he hates doing and if he realizes he’s doing it it can throw off his mood for the entire day. Because of flip-flopping between what the “right” way to act is growing up, he doesn’t always have a solid sense of self and often relies on the way his peers act and follows their lead. When he’s alone he tends to be the most genuine and while he tries to be that around other people, it tends to get lost. As a genuine person, he’s very straightforward and while he’s definitely the type to complain about it later, he’ll put up with pretty much anything. Whiny tweens? He can suck it up and babysit them for the day. Annoying cabinmates? He’ll live, but just know he’ll complain about it pretty harshly later. He can be pretty snarky but typically keeps it to himself. He can be pretty lackadaisical in nature and doesn’t plan for the future, but just kind of takes whatever comes at him. He is actually very talkative when given the chance to be, but is content being in the background of most conversations and is fine going days without talking to anyone. He gets anxious in crowded places and around a lot of people, especially if he doesn’t know them well. He’s very self-reliant and doesn’t like or feel the need to rely on anyone else. He’s the type to not believe anything until he’s seen it himself. He’s very much a morning person. Also he’s a libra sun sagittarius moon if that says anything.

Appearance: short strawberry blonde curls frame a slightly tanned face littered with freckles. He has a very straight nose that's a bit on the larger side, and while he has a very diamond face shape, he doesn't have particularly strong features. His right eye is light blue and his left eye is a gold-yellow color. he has a scar on the right side of his lips and continuing down over his chin. His ears are on the larger side. While he is of irish descent, he was raised in the US and doesn't have an accent for the most part, but it can be heard in some words from being around his mother at home who does have a strong accent. He carries his bouzouki with him at all times, usually strapped to his back similar to a guitar. He has a bit of an athletic look and he doesn’t look particular built or muscular but he’s a far cry but being lanky. He likes loose and baggy clothes and favors more casual looks. He prefers comfort over style.

History: Aodhan was raised believing that he was nothing out of the ordinary. His mother, Cait, didn't want him to know about his father or about any powers he may have had. In their small midwest suburban town and to his mother, conformity was everything. When she remarried when Aodhan was 6, all the couple wanted was a normal family and a normal life and Cait figured that as long as she kept him away from his greek heritage and didn't tell him about his powers she would be able to have the normal life she craved, going to PTA meetings and baking muffins for the local churches bake sale. She had her way for 6 years before things started deviating from her dream of a white picket fence. She may have loved her new husband, but her new husband did not like Aodhan. He was always too loud, too energetic, too something. Cait was so wrapped up in her love and drive to fit in that she didn't notice, or perhaps chose not to. At such a young age the way he dealt with it was that he slowly stopped speaking, eventually dwindling to barely being able to speak at all. Most of the time, he was able to speak around his mother. He began learning ASL through a program at school and his parents were encouraged to learn on their own time, but they never did. There was always something, they were too busy to, they didn’t have time, they didn’t think his bout of muteness would last. When he was 10 years old and only able to speak when he was alone with his mother or with the few close friends he had, he begged Cait to let him pick up an instrument as a means of expressing himself. While she had tried to keep Aodhan away from instruments, fearful that they could trigger some power within him, she felt guilty and blamed herself for his selective muteness so she lent him his grandfather's irish bouzouki. She regretted her decision when within weeks he was playing it like he’d been playing it all his life, but she didn’t have the heart to take it away from him. The same year his mother and stepfather had a baby together. Aodhan adored his baby brother and especially loved to play music for him! He was able to speak around his brother. Aodhans earliest use of his powers was playing music to calm his brother down when he started crying. Aodhan didn’t completely understand what he was doing or how he was doing it, but he knew that he just had a way of playing music that would make his baby brother laugh. He proudly showed it to his mother one day, and she banned him from playing music for his brother. After that, his mother and stepfather began to heavily discourage him playing instruments and their negativity towards his music did make him drop the bouzouki for a time. He’d play along, he thought. He’d try to be the perfect son, despite the fact he couldn’t talk he did everything to be enough for them. Normal enough. Good enough. It worked for a few years, until he was 15. He had a friend over who found his bouzouki abandoned in the back of his closet and asked him about it. He told them he used to play it and told them about he used to play a certain way and it would make his brother stop crying, but his parents told him to stop playing when they found out. They asked him if he could play something to relieve their stress from schoolwork, half as a joke but aodhan said he’d give it a try since his parents weren’t home to hear. It turned out that there was a big upside to making sure that aodhan never used his powers or knew about his divine heritage all these years: he was almost completely off the radar from monsters. Keyword is almost. When Aodhan hard the scream of his little brother downstairs and ran downstairs, the last thing he expected to see was a monster ripping apart his kitchen. His first instinct was to keep his brother safe and ran in without thinking to pull his brother out of harm's way, only to put himself in more danger, earning him a scar down from his lip to the bottom of his chin that he would later explain away to people as “he fell”. They were lucky, very lucky. It was almost as if all the luck Aodhan had to use over the course of his life was used right then and there and he would never be lucky again. A Satyr who had been tailing the monster to find the demigod it was hunting swooped in at the last second and drove the monster off. Aodhan was sure that the boredom from living in the most generic town on the planet was really getting to him when he stood in the doorway of his kitchen, watching as a satyr yelled profanities after a monster out the back door. Turns out, it was much more than just boredom. After being left alone for nearly 15 years, the use of his powers was starting to attract monsters. Unlucky for him, this particular satyr didn’t speak ASL. after a back and forth attempt at signing and frantically looking for a pen and something to write on, Aodhan was left wondering if the leftovers he had earlier had gone bad something. Him, the son of the god apollo? No way, he thought. “That’s the stupidest thing i've ever heard. Im not gonna believe some fuckin goat man in my - there's a goat man in my kitchen. Either im losing my mind of maybe he isn’t spouting bullshit.” When Cait got home she realized she couldn’t hide it any longer and confessed the truth, Aodhan was the son of Apollo and she’d kept it and his powers a secret all these years. After a teary confession from Cait, Aodhan decided to go with the satyr back to camp half blood and new athens. After a lifetime of conformity and doing everything he could to be as normal as possible, he hoped that maybe he could finally catch a break. He typically stays at camp/new athens year-round but occasionally visits his family, but his relationship with his mother and stepfather have never been the same since the secret of his father's identity came out, but he is still close with his brother.

#percy jackson rp #pjo rp #oc rp #percy jackson #pjo #original characters #roleplay

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hoopslab · 7 years ago

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Game of Thrones S7 Ep3 The Queen’s Justice: Ice meets Fire

SPOILERS FOR GAME OF THRONES ON HBO, UP THROUGH EPISODE 3 OF SEASON 7

"I’ve brought Ice and Fire together.”

This line, delivered by priestess Melisandre, summarized a meeting 20 years in the making. From the time that the original book A Game of Thrones came out as the first installment in George R.R. Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire, there was rampant speculation that Jon Snow represented the “Ice” and Daenerys Targeryen the “Fire”. There was also, and has continued to be, much speculation about what would happen when the two title characters finally met. We started to get that answer in the third episode of the season, but there was a lot else going on as well.

Varys threatens, gets shut down by another priestess

Varys and Melisandre had a memorable scene of sniping at each other as Varys tried to figure out why she would hide from Jon Snow upon his arrival. Melisandre was, of course, hiding because Jon had imposed a death sentence on her if she ever returned North. They were in the South, but she understandably didn’t want to test the semantics of his vow. Seemingly on the defensive, she gives the “Ice and Fire” quote mentioned above, and otherwise seems diffident in the face of Varys’ questions. At least, until Varys over-plays his hand and threatens her with death if she returns to Westeros after her stated goal of going to Volantis. Then, much like when Vars encountered a different Red Priestess last season, Melisandre responded with a cryptic but seemingly magically insightful observation about Varys...this time, that Varys would die in Westeros like her (and likely on camera, since it’s being discussed). And, much like before, Varys was visibly disturbed and had his threats curbed/quieted by the said peaceful threat.

Cersei dominating the lesser war

Cersei obviously had to have some on-camera victories this season to build a narrative belief that she could compete with Dany and her seemingly insurmountable army, but through the first shows of the season Cersei’s crew has been doing even better than expected. She has had victory after victory, and seemingly has been out-thinking and out-strategying the Dragon crew at each turn. I’ve seen pushback on Twitter that this is unrealistic, given the caliber of the people that she’s outwitting, but I find it believable.

Remember, back to Season One, Cersei has always shown that she can play political chess when the more honorable characters were playing checkers. She check-mated Ned. Her father check-mated Robb. And last season she check-mated the fire out of the High Sparrow. While Dany has all the advantages on paper, as well as big-named advisers like Tyrion and Varys, she is also essentially (thus far) an honorable character that has (thus far) gone about things in an honorable way. She didn’t attack the Red Keep directly, despite there being repeated mentions in the narrative that she could have done so and likely won, because she didn’t want to preside over a kingdom of ashes. Cersei has no such compunctions, and thus far her cold ruthlessness has let her earn a much more favorable spot on the board than she initially occupied.

One Queen’s justice and another’s revenge

Speaking of Cersei, the title of the episode strongly hinted that she would get her much expected vengeance on her “gift” from Euron Greyjoy...Ellaria Sand and her daughter. Ellaria, of course, used poison to creatively murder Cersei’s daughter...she put the poison on her lips, then kissed Myrcella good night. Well, Cersei’s justice was to mirror the act, kissing Ellaria’s daughter with the same poison, and leaving mother and daughter chained in the dungeon to watch the inevitable death and decay. Ouch.

But, maybe not as ouch as the parting shot that the Queen of Thorns got in against Cersei and Jaime. After Jaime stormed Highgarden and let Lady Olenna know, to her face, that she was done...Olenna stole the scene by talking holes into his confidence in his sister, and ultimately turned the Lannister victory to ashes. After Jaime gave her the “humane” option to poison herself for a painless death...the Queen of Thorns taunted him about the ugly, gruesome death of his son Joffrey...then revealed that she was responsible for poisoning him, and that she wanted Cersei to know it. Jaime’s face, as he finally realized what she was telling him, was absolutely priceless before he stormed off. While Cersei may have gotten “justice” for her daughter’s death, Olenna was the queen that landed the best “revenge” shot in this episode.

Bran comes home and creeps out his sister

In Episode 2, I (and many others) wondered how on earth Jon Snow managed to get message ravens from everywhere else in the Seven Kingdoms, but somehow didn’t get one from the much closer Castle Black telling him that his “baby brother” was still alive. This week we got our answer...instead of sending a raven, the Night’s Watch just sent Bran and Meera directly to Winterfell. This led to the second season in a row in which Sansa got reunited with a long-lost brother, and ran to him and gave him a huge hug.

Only, this time the reception was different. Whereas last time, Jon Snow ran just as hard towards her and swung her around in an exuberant embrace, this time Bran just sat there and stared into space blankly as his sister hugged him. In the next scene, Bran was acting as though he had never interacted with a human before, unable to answer even simple questions like how he became the Three Eyed Raven when there had already been one (simple answer: old one died). Bran also didn’t do the obvious and go into a tree dream while Sansa was watching, as a means to demonstrate his new abilities. Instead, he thought it’d be best to talk to Sansa about the horrors of her wedding night to Ramsey after the beauty of the wedding itself. Let’s just say that Sansa was less than comforted by her time with her little brother.

On the other hand, I did notice that, just after LittleFinger told Sansa that she needed to learn to strategize by considering every possible event before-hand, she runs into Bran, who tells her that he can see every possible event in the past or present. Seemed like there could be some narrative hint in there about how Bran’s power my manifest itself as useful in the overall war.

The pirate, the mad scientist and the banker

Cersei had three potentially useful, potentially dangerous men that she has put into play in the war. Euron Greyjoy returned with his gift to the queen, triumphant, marching the Ellaria, her daughter, and Yara through the streets. He loved the attention, made his play for Cersei’s hand as a reward...and got curved, having to make due with an official sanction as the head of her navy. He had a great trash-talking session to Jaime afterwards, but for now is playing (at least to some extent) for Team Cersei. Though the banker has already foreshadowed that Euron’s allegiance could be temporary.

The mad scientist, Qyburn, was still in play as he continues to do Cersei’s crazy bidding. With his Frankenstein monster The Mountain in attendance, Qyburn was given the credit for identifying the poison that Ellaria used on Myrcella, then procuring it for Cersei’s use. Considering the dragonslayer crossbow that he debuted last week, and the heavy foreshadowing that it will be successful, Qyburn has been earning his money and making Cersei smile into her wine of late. But he’s still scary enough that I wouldn’t turn my back on him, were I Cersei.

The Iron Banker began the scene as a notable threat to Cersei, but she seemed to be well on her way to winning him to her point of view. Especially if she’s able to pay him with the dowery from High Garden, there’s a good chance the Iron Bank will (at least) temporarily invest in her side over Dany’s. But same theme...their support could turn around on the Queen in a hurry if things don’t go her way.

Three downtrodden on way to becoming heroes

Theon Greyjoy has been one of the most pitiful characters in the series. He started a spineless, annoying, backstabbing youth that was easy to hate. Then, he got Reeked by Ramsey Bolton, and he was so pitiful it was annoying. Yara was starting to help him get his spine back, and he just lost that when faced off with Euron. But, I have to feel like his Ironborn brethren fished him out of the water for a reason. And I kind of feel like he’s going to make a heroic turn and come up big in the clutch, maybe even taking out Euron.

Jorah Mormont is as good as new, after Sam flayed him and applied ointment last week. Sam put his money where his mouth is (and went way further than I would have), by shaking Jorah’s hand after the maester declared his infection in remission. Mormont, of course, will go straight as an arrow to his Khaleesi. He’s already had some heroic moments for her, even if she friend zoned him and banished him for life before commanding him to find a cure for an incurable disease. All told, though, much like Theon it doesn’t make sense for Jorah to still be alive unless he’s got an important part to play moing forward.

Speaking of Sam, he’s quietly been on the hero side for awhile. He had his moments with the White Walkers, stole the Valeryan sword from pops, saved his girl and the baby, and managed to get into the Citadel. Then, in the last few weeks, he has discovered the Obsidian cache and informed Jon Snow, which brought him to Dany, and now he’s cured the incurable stone disease. Now, the old maester has him copying some ancient/decaying scrolls, theoretically as a punishment. But I kind of feel like, as he’s copying, he just might read some key bit that will be pivotal in the war to come.

Twincest no longer registers

Just an aside, but Jaime and Cersei just had their first on-screen love scene in a LONG time...and it didn’t even blip the “ick” meter. Twincest was a huge deal in season one. These days, if I don’t think about it, I almost forget that they’re related. They just seem like any other couple, at this point. Which, if you think about it, is kind of bananas.

Ice, Fire and the Matchmaker

Finally, the main event. Daenerys Stormborn Targeryen and Jon Snow (Targeryen) finally came face-to-face. Their introduction has already become a hilarious meme, as Missendei read off all (seemingly) 100 of Dany’s titles for minutes of bloviation...only to have The Onion Knight respond, “This is Jon Snow. He’s King of the North.” Literally laughed out loud on that one.

I was surprised they started off the show with their meeting, as I thought they might build to it and have that be the walk-off. Instead, I was pleasantly surprised that they led with their introduction, which allowed for several iterations of re-meetings between the various characters and some advancement of their plotline all in the first week.

Dany and Jon have both been through a lot, and earned a lot of cred in this series. Dany wear’s her props in her extended title, but when the Onion Knight got on a roll he did a fair job rattling off Jon’s successes as well...though Jon gave him the cue to cut when Davos started to talk about how he took a knife to the heart. I’m actually not sure why Jon doesn’t want Dany to know this now...I have to assume it’ll be an important reveal down the line. And with her holding him as a...valued guest, and now allowing him to mine the dragon glass, presumably they will be in each other’s company for some time.

Tyrion has been key for this match-up so far, to the point that he almost seems like the kindly father figure match-maker. With two young, stubborn hotheads talking past each other, Tyrion is the one offering a supportive ear and sage advice to help them grow closer together. That dynamic should be strongly tested next episode, though, as Dany is running out of allies and Cersei has been running circles around her baby brother strategy-wise. It’ll be interesting to see if Jon can be brought into play to help Dany, or if he will remain so focused on the White Walker invasion that they part ways soon.

Also...between Bran’s knowledge and return to Winterfell, and the fact that giant dragons are flying all around that seemingly have a bond with Targeryens...I’m actively counting down to see when the main crew (FINALLY) discovers his heritage. And what the ramifications will be. Plus, can we get another Stark reunion next week with Arya getting to Winterfell, or will she end up off course? Episode 4 can’t get here soon enough...