#there is NO reason to put down dad!gale. none at all.

[teiasviago]

.

[middlingmay]

Gale Cleven never learned to flirt

And I have some HCs about that and how it came to bite him in the ass.

Here, have 2K+ words of the Buckies being an absolute mess.

Gale managed to reach his mid-twenties without ever flirting.

He and Marge had been inseparable since they were kids. Being together was second nature, so by the time their teenage years hit, the awkward rituals of their classmates trying to catch some guy or girl’s attention just didn't apply. Gale simply told Marge whatever he thought and felt. If it never strayed into the territory their classmates were so eager to dive into head (or pelvis) first; if it never sounded like the cheesy lines boys used to ease past a skirt, then that’s because he was too much of a gentleman. Everyone knew it. Marge’s dad never batted so much as an eye when she spent time with Gale, because he was such a good boy.

Really, that should have been the biggest clue among many before he signed up.

But then he did sign up, and he met John Clarence “Bucky” Egan, who flirted with everyone and everything.

No, really—everything.

One night after one too many beers, John was leaning against a coat rack, regaling Gale with some story or other. He gave a particularly enthusiastic wave of an arm, and nearly sent it toppling over, and him with it. But John's reflexes were still good even three sheets to the wind. He caught it before it hit the ground, set it up right and said, “Sorry, doll. I’m normally a gentleman. I’ll show you, sometime.”

It was the first time Gale laughed until he cried.

Gale had been flirted with plenty, of course. Others back home had batted eyelashes at him and sidled up to him and placed fleeting, coy touches in innocent places.

John did absolutely none of that.

He drawled and called Gale doll, sweetheart, dilly and beau. He’d look Gale in the eye whilst talking to someone else entirely and say, “My guy, Buck, here…”

He pressed their foreheads together and grabbed Gale's thighs tight and put an arm over the back of Gale's chair.

He’d chuck Gale's chin and press hands firm into the small of Gale's back, around the curve of his hip, into the dips of his waist and that was usually followed by a quick, deliberate clench of his sizeable hands.

John outright called him gorgeous, “a real heartbreaker”, and the others would laugh but that was always one of the few times John didn’t join in.

He watched Gale’s training and his flights like a hawk, bugging others over the radio: “Where’s Buck?” He’d bugged those in the tower so much, that he nearly got himself banned.

John sang love songs - badly - and smirked at Buck the whole time.

Finally, in the after, when they’d left Wyoming and Wisconsin behind for good, John had stepped up behind Gale in the kitchen in the house they shared and reached forward. He placed a whisky glass of apple juice on the counter and came round to Gale’s side. He leaned his forearms on the counter and looked up at Gale through tumbling curls he’d been letting grow a bit and said,

“Lookin’ awful lonely there, doll. What’s a guy gotta do to be your fella?”

And apparently Gale was easy, because he downed the apple juice to wet his parched throat and lips and threw his arms around John’s neck and kissed him with a fire he hadn't felt this side of a plane.

He threw the rest of himself at John, too, who caught him easy and hoisted him up on the counter. He pulled Gale's hips forward by the belt loops and ground his own hips up against him just as his tongue slid home dragged and teased out the gaps and moans Gale couldn’t control—

That afternoon, evening and night had been incredible. But, if Gale thought finally getting what they had been stepping towards for all these years would have taken some of the pressure off, he was dead wrong. He craved more.

Only, he had no idea how to go about getting it.

He wasn’t like John. Never had been. Flirting and being so damn bold didn’t come easy to Gale. Truth be told, he’d never has a reason to flirt before. And for the first time in his life, John was being absolutely no help.

If Gale didn’t know him any better, he would have said he was being shy.

But ain’t no man who could do those kinds of things with his tongue got any business being shy.

And Gale knew John wanted it, wanted him, just as badly. He caught the heated looks; heard the aborted gasps when Gale did something - anything - that showed off his physique (and his brain, he’d later discover). Christ, he felt it every time he woke up before John in the morning.

But it didn’t seem fair to always leave it to John. John had done the bulk of the legwork throughout their whole relationship, even before they finally figured it out. It was Gale’s turn.

So, he started easy.

The next morning that he woke first, the heavy weight of John at his back, he buried his smiling, blushing face in the pillow and rocked back into Bucky’s hardness. He did it harder than he expected, and Bucky woke with a groan pulled from the depths of him and grabbed Gale and pulled.

Gale revelled in his easy and rapid success and coyly teased, “John. You woke me up with that thing.”

And John abruptly released him, full of apologies and sweet kisses to his shoulders before he toddled off to the bathroom, leaving Gale painfully disappointed.

Disappointed, but not deterred. His next idea involved Bucky’s favourite hobby: lookin’ at Buck. There were horses stabled in a field nearby, and Gale had permission from the owners to take them out for some exercise anytime he wanted.

John had never been, but agreed readily enough when Gale asked him to come along.

Gale made sure to wear his tighter pants, and when they got there stripped off his shirt so he was left in only his tank, and mounted a horse called, of all things, Major.

Gale didn't go overboard. He was still workin’ an animal that demanded respect and care. But he made sure to show Bucky the flex of his thighs, the roll of his hips, the strength in him, staying in the saddle when Major wanted to jump.

He got a little lost in it and wasn’t sure how long it had been. But when he looked up, John was gone.

He found him back at the house, stumbling down the stairs red-cheeked, glassy-eyed and a little breathless. And Gale knew. He knew that look; had seen that look so many damn times since they were cadets in basic.

He looked at John with such vicious fury, that he’d gone and done that without him, that John had turned tail and given him a wide berth for the rest of the day.

Gale was going to pull out every damn hair on his head. He’d tried everything he could think of: pressing up against Bucky whenever he moved past; biting his lips like he knew John loved. He even rubbed Coppertone on John’s shoulders and back when he was out doing yard work in the heat one day. But, when Bucky had turned to him and rasped a husky, “Thank you”, Gale got so worried that John was dehydrated, he’d rushed back into the kitchen to fetch him a glass of water and glowered at him until he drank it all, before fetching him another one.

One day, Gale had had enough and decided to take a leaf out of John’s book. He was gonna flirt with that man like he’d seen John do a dozen times before, even if it made him feel like the stupidest man alive.

He allowed himself a small whisky for courage. In return for John dramatically reducing his alcohol intake, Gale sometimes, rarely, let himself indulged and shared a glass with John.

He downed this one in one go and headed into the living room where John was trying to pick a record.

Gale sidled up to him, placed his arms around his waist and said, “Hi darlin’. Can I buy you a drink?”

John’s eyes crinkled, he smiled so wide, and leaned back into Gale's arms. “Oh, I dunno. My ma warned me about guys like you.”

Gale thrummed with excitement that John was playing along, finally, finally getting the damn hint. He let his hands move from John’s hips to the spot on his belly, just above the waistband. His fingers tickled and traced along the hem. “Guys like me?”

“Mhmm. Y’just wanna get me outta my skirt.”

Gale's breath hitched. He moved the palm of one hand to John’s thigh. Heavy and slow, he stroked it up and up, letting John feel the drag of each finger. “I think you’d look good outta your skirt,” he mumbled with a nip to John's ear. He stilled his hand on John’s upper thigh and with one finger, drew a teasing line across the expansive width of it. “Maybe keep the stockings on, though.”

John choked on a laugh, on thrilled disbelief, and Gale grinned into his neck and let John turn in his arms.

And the best part, Gale quickly decided, was that for the first time ever, he managed to make John blush—at the mention of women’s stockings no less, which he had much more experience in than Gale.

Gale rejoiced as John careened forward, tongue slipping straight into Gale’s panting, waiting mouth, and Gale whimpered in the dizzying satisfaction of it as they fucked their tongues into each other and their bodies writhed standing there, in a promise of what was to come.

But then, John pulled away. Gale watched him suck on his own tongue, like he was savouring the taste of something, before clarity and realisation descend over John’s face.

“Ah,” he said. “That make sense.”

Gale frowned, even as John drew him in close and pressed their foreheads together so softly and asked, “Wanna go to bed?”

Gale could have crowed. “Mhmm. Yeah. Yes.”

John brushed a hand through Gale’s hair. “Yeah. Lets get you all tucked in, before you wake up with a sore head.”

Drunk. John thought he was drunk. And rather than giving Gale what he wanted, he was trying to be a gentleman and send him to bed. But Gale was too frustrated to be endeared by the evidence of John’s goodness. Not tonight. No siree.

He almost screamed and threw his hands up in the air. “Goddamn it, John! I’m not drunk!” He even stamped his foot. “I am trying to fuck you!”

John just stood there dumbstruck while Gale raged.

“I have been trying for days! But you, for the first time in your sorry life, have become as dumb as a bag of rocks! How come a girl used to just have to look at'cha long enough and you were all over her, but I try every trick I got and nothing!”

That jolted John out of his Gale-induced stun. “Tricks? What tricks?!”

“Oh I don't know: how about rubbin' against you like a damn bitch in heat the other morning!”

“You said I woke you up! You haven’t been sleeping good!”

“And showing off with the horses—!"

“That was on purpose?! Buck - I left because I got hard watching you! I didn’t want you to think I was some kind of perv! No one should feel like that around an animal!”

“The I rubbed you down with Coppertone?!”

“I was gonna! I got that one and I was gonna, Buck! I swear to God, but then you made me shotgun water and started yellin’ at me about dehydration!”

Gale had worked himself into a fervour and paced the living room, barely looking at John.

“After that first night, you ain’t come near me like that again. And I know I’m hopeless at this kinda thing, and you got a lot more experience than me. But I don’t want it all to be on you. And Christ, John, I was starting to think you didn’t want—what are you doing?!”

John’s shirt was on the floor and he was using one hand to wrestle his undershirt over his head and the other to unbuckle his belt.

Muffled under the fabric of his shirt Gale heard him say, “You said you wanna fuck,” he finally pulled the shirt over his head and his curls sprung free and wild, “we’re gonna fuck.”

Gale stood with hands on his hips, still in his lecture pose. “Right here?”

John lost the belt and went for the buttons on his pants. “Right here.”

Gale drummed his fingers against his hips and stared as John dropped his pants. “Well…that’s, good.”

John snatched Gale by the belt and dragged him him. “Don't be getting shy on me, now.”

And normally that was exactly the kind of thing that would send all of Gale’s bravado running for the hills, but he’d been so desperate for so long that he pounced on John before he even made the conscious decision, and together they undressed him in record time.

John got him on the floor, somehow, and twisted and flipped them so Gale was on top, and Gale looked at him with one eyebrow arched in breathless judgement. “Really?”

John nodded wide-eyed. “Oh, yeah. Really. I’m serious, Buck. I don’t think I can go near those stables with you again. It’s indecent.”

Gale gave an experimental roll of the hips, and when John keened and bucked underneath him, Gale clenched his thighs and drove him down and brought him back under control easy. So he didn’t see that much difference between the skill this would take and what he used to work Major. But still. After what he’d put him through, John didn’t deserve to have it too easy. “Hm, I don’t know. How long you gonna last like this? You got a lot of making up to do.”

And John looked mortally offended, but he’d learned something about Gale through all of this too, and said, “About a long as you will when you see me in those stockings you’ve been fantasizing about.”

And Gale’s hips jerked without his permissions, and things descended beyond the power of words after that.

Later, as they languished on the living room floor with the throw from the couch tossed over them to ward of the evening chill, John turned to him and said, delighted, “You could just ask me to fuck you, you know. Ever thought of that?”

And Gale smirked and nipped at the finger tracing his cheek. “Don't count on it.”

[kining-the-evil]

All I Have Left ch1/?

Summary: you were in love with Randy, you had a life plan with him. But after his death, you cut out everyone in your life. It’s not until you take custody of his niece and nephew that you begin to live life again.

An: this is going to be platonic/motherly!reader to the twins. The idea has been bounced around my head for a couple of days, so I wanted to try it out

It’s not overly long, but if I continued with the idea it would have been way to long. So I may write a part two

Scream Taglist: none currently. Let me know if you want added

Scream Masterlist All Masterlists

“I think it will be a girl.”

You glanced up at Randy when you heard his words. The two of you were in the middle of a movie night in his dorm room, you tucked into his side while his arm was wrapped around you. He wasn’t even looking at you, making you wonder if you were hearing things.

“What?”

“Our first kid, I think she’ll be a girl.” He further explained, looking down at you. The two of you had been talking the night before about life after college. You were high school sweethearts, and had talked about it plenty of times. He was going to major in film, and you psychology. You would live in Hollywood while starting your carriers, and once ready for a family you’d move to a close by suburb. A plan you had started making the summer before senior year. And last night, you’d talked about kids.

“You think so?”

“Absolutely,” he confirmed.

“What makes you so sure?” You asked while giggling slightly.

“A dad just knows,” he winked.

“Well, so does a mom and I think it will be a boy. Besides, it’s not like you’re currently a dad.” You poked his chest lightly, making him chuckle.

“I’d love to have a son, and I’d love him,” he reached down to grab your left hand and place a kiss on the engagement ring on your finger. “But I’ll get my little girl. Don’t care how many times I have to fuck you.”

“Wow, so noble,” you teased as he pulled you to straddle his lap. “What would you name her?” He had clearly put thought into this, and you wanted to know how far his mind had gotten.

“Mindy.”

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•

That night was only a week before Randy was killed, and every night after you wished you were dead yourself. Everything made you angry. Seeing Sidney or Dewey made you angry, and even thinking about Gale and her stupid book made you angry. Seeing the school made you angry, and the police made you angry.

So you dropped out of school. You cut people off, distanced yourself, and moved back to Woodsboro. You only went to town when you had to, and worked at home in any way you could. You didn’t need a tone of money, just enough to live in your small house alone. Sidney had tried to reach out a few times, but eventually got the hint that you didn’t want to see her. The only person you were slightly civil with was Randy’s sister, Martha.

She worked at one of the stores you went to often, and you just couldn’t bring yourself to hate the women. You’d known her for years, being friends with Randy for years before going out. So when you saw her at the store, you said hi. If she asked you to come over for a drink or dinner once in a while, you said yes. And when she got pregnant, you promised to be as involved with the kids life as she needed.

“Please…” Chad whined, giving you his best puppy eyes. You had to hand it to the seven year old, he was pretty good at it.

“No, your mom said you’ve been wearing them for the past three nights. They need washed,” you attempted to reason with the boy. Which didn’t work in the slightest.

“Mom said she ‘gave up on that fight’” Mindy spoke up. She had already changed into her pjs, quickly complying when you promised a treat during the movie. Martha and her husband were out for the night, and you had offered to watch your niece and nephew (technically godchildren but as Martha said ‘you would have become their aunt’).

“Enough,” you scolded her before turning back to Chad. “I know for a fact you have more then one pair of train pjs. Get one of your others.” You were at a standstill, a staring contest with a seven year old. You were pointing towards the dresser, and you were determined to win this fight.

“Fineeeeee,” he stretched the word before walking towards the dresser. “But can you wash them for tomorrow night?”

You agreed, knowing Martha would appreciate the clothes at least being clean. You helped the two kids get ready for bed before sending them down stairs to pick a movie. You grabbed some more of their clothes, starting a load of laundry. The sound of arguing drew you downstairs, but you stoped at the fire place. A small shrine that had been set up for Randy. You still didn’t know how to feel about it. Every time you saw a photo of him it reminded you of finding him in that van, but at the same time it reminded you of whatever goofy memory surrounded the photo.

You were pulled from your thoughts again when the arguing got louder. You were sure you knew what it was about. Mindy was attempting to get Chad to agree to whatever movie she wanted to watch. He mate as of splitting it up you grabbed the two bags of candy, one of each of their favorite, and walked into the room to flop onto the couch. This caught both of their attention.

“What are you doing?” Mindy was practically glaring at you, and you had to do your best to hold in your laugh.

“Well, i was going to give you guys this for during the movie, but you are busy arguing so I figured I’d eat it myself.” A horrified look crossed their faces at your words, and it took minutes for them to chose a movie and to climb onto the couch with you. They each stole their respected candy, giggling as though they had tricked you into handing it over.

It was almost 2 in the morning when you woke up to the sound of the house phone ringing. Chad and Mindy were up in bed, and you must have fallen asleep while waiting for their parents. You blindly reached over to grab the phone, pulling it to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Is this the Meeks-Martin household?”

“Ya, can I take a message?” You yawned a bit through your sentence, trying to wake up a bit more.

“Y/n? Its Dewey.” You sighed lightly at the man’s words. You did your best to be civil with the man, it wasn’t his fault that your worst memories in life included him.

“What can I do for You officer Riley?” You questioned.

“I um, I’m calling for Woodsboro memorial Hospital. I have some bad news.” You quickly sat up, suddenly not so tired. “Joel and Martha Meeks-Martin were in a car accident. They um- they were dead before getting to the hospital.”

“W-what?” You whispered, unsure of what else to say. Your entire body felt numb, the same way you had felt when sitting at the police station after Randy. A feeling that made everything feel fake, like in a dream.

“I’m so sorry y/n,” Dewey’s voice practically whispered through the phone. “But we need you to come down and identify the body’s, as well as decide what will happen with the kids.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing tears not to fall. What felt like your only two friends left were gone, and you had to tell their kids what had happened.

“Y/n? Are you ok-“

“Do you need me tonight or can it wait until morning?” You cut him off.

“Tomorrow is Fine. Listen, if you need anything at all-“

“I’ll see you then Dewey.” You quickly hung up the phone, setting it on the couch next to you. You let your head fall to your hands, a small sob being let out. You would cry tonight, morn your friends tonight, and tomorrow you would be whatever Mindy and Chad needed you to be.

[dis--parity]

paperwork.

Summary: Alex gets around to something she’s put off for too long. Trigger warnings: None! Author notes: Happy mother’s day to all my UK moots!

       “And this... is the main reason I didn’t get around to this for so long.” The girl’s prosthetic hand rests upon the wad of papers present in front of her - brass-tipped fingers placing her pen down to shift the forms aside, sheet by sheet.

“So.” Flip. “Much.” Flip. “Paperwork.”

The sigh that escapes her sounds dangerously close to completely demoralised defeat; the world of legal matters was not only completely and utterly boring to her, but the amount of small boxes, scattered text... it was far too difficult for her to focus on alone. Just looking at the form seemed to confuse the poor girl - if not because she understood how serious the change was, then simply because of how... uncomfortably uniform these documents were.

She never would have seen herself even making an attempt at it, if it were just her - if there wasn’t still one person in her life who knew her almost as well as she knew herself. Whose voice could still bring a little clarity and focus to her addled mind.

Whose hand would find its way to her shoulder, resting upon it as if it had always belonged there, brushing away those curly golden locks so alike her own. Her free hand, then, would gather up the papers again, already with a few pen marks on them - putting just one sheet in front of her, and tucking the rest away with a smile.

“It’s like eating an elephant, dear.”, hummed Janella. “I know you get too overwhelmed when you try to do everything in one go - let’s go through it bit by bit. Now, then... this first sheet is the most important part, dear.

Your new name. What do you want it to be?”

She hesitates to give a direct response to her mother; all her life, she’s known herself as the same person. Alexandra. And so would her prosthetic hand pick up the pen again and put down exactly that. The gesture warranted a furrow of the brow from her mother; but nothing more than that.

“The same name?”, she asked, a chuckle slipping past her lips. “I’m surprised, dear, you’ve put so much thought into the person you want to be…” “I know who I am, mom. I’m Alex. Well... Alexandra, not Aleksander, now. And-... well, I- I guess there’s a couple of other things, too.” “Such as?” “My middle name, for a start.”

The nod that Janella gives her in turn is slow, one of absolute understanding. “Eitan, or Ethan… the name your father wanted for you when you were born-” “I- I don’t need to be reminded-”, Alex snaps - sucking in a deep breath, eyes cringing shut as she pushes the anger back down again. Unfazed as Janella seemed to be, she loathed how easy it was for that name to fill her with such rage. “Sorry, mom, I- I- just... yeah. That’s-... why I wanna get rid of it.”

“Well. I can’t say I blame you, darling,”, she sighed. “Your father was an awful man, there’s no denying that. Even years later, I’m still ashamed to have called that apathetic, selfish shell of a man my husband.” “Wh- what about the dude you left him for, my stepdad?”, asked Alex, with a tilt of her head. “I mean… he- he never sounded like he was that much better, right?” “... well, yes, but at least he actually tried to care, dear.” Clearly, that alone was enough for her to stay married to him for 17 years of her life; enough for her to raise a kid with him, even! Alex simply pursed her lips, a small hum serving as a subtle ‘touché’ to her mother’s retort. “But, I’ve told you those stories, haven’t I? So… what were you thinking of instead? Or, you can always get rid of it entirely, I suppose.” “No, I-... I had an idea. It’s silly, but…” She breathes in again; she’s learned well enough not to be embarrassed around her mother. Besides her therapist, she’s probably the one woman she’s shared the most with.

“My first name… I- I kinda wanted to change it to Alyssa. But-... I feel like that’s better as my middle name, y’know? And-...”

She hesitates again, pen hovering after the name ‘Alyssa’, as if paralyzed by some unknown force. Her eyes close, rendering her unable to see her mother’s glance of curiosity, but only for the moment it takes to make up her mind. Her pen slides slowly, apologetically across the paper again, the ink curling and swerving into a new word.

Gale.

It’s not a name the two of them feel any need to share words over. Her mother was one of the first other people who Alex opened up to about the impact that girl had on her, after all - and the legacy of a lost love is not something she’s about to dispute. Though, she must miss her an awful lot for her to want so badly to do such a thing - then again, who was she to say anything about that?

“You know,” Janella hums. “I think you’re having the same thoughts I did when I decided to keep your stepfather’s name. That, deep down, perhaps… there was still a good person where he was. At the very least, there was a person we missed.” “Yeah… I do miss her. Every day, y- you know that. But… I- I guess I just wanna carry her with me a little more. Like I do with Nancy.” “Won’t argue with you there, darling. Whatever your heart desires. Speaking of which… will that be your last name?”

And, at last, they come to the final hurdle - yet, for as much as she anticipates that Janella would ask, and for as good of an answer as she has, she just… can’t seem to get the words out. She stalls - breath slowly and sharply seething in through her nostrils as she gathers the will to say those words she’s mentally rehearsed over and over again. While the papers were printing, while her mom’s car was pulling up to the parking lot, all the while the Earl Grey she was enjoying was steeping… and finally, she spoke, her quaking voice barely audible enough to register.

“I want… your name. Y- your… your last name, I mean.

I wanna be a Cloutier. No-... an Iskra Cloutier.”

Janella falls silent then, for a good moment - her teacup slowly finding its way back to the fine saucer it rested on. She seemed more confused than touched by the gesture, as it was - but, there was still a glint of understanding behind her eyes.

“I see… but, darling, you could choose anything you want. You don’t need to take on my name, I should hardly think I’m a huge part of your whole transformation.

Please, don’t think as if you need to limit yourself - you can call yourself whatever you want. You know far better than me, you can be whatever you want to be.”

“I know who I want to be,” Alex said, the conviction behind her words forcing her head up to meet the hazel eyes of her mother. “For so long, I-... I’ve had this path in my life, ever since you’ve come back into it. When I woke up, and- and saw you there, and- and heard your voice, and… and when I was able to just talk to you after everything with dad was said and done, I-... for the first time in my life, I felt like I knew what I was doing. What I wanted to do!

And… it’s taken me this long, but… now I can finally be the person I really want to be. Who I’ve wanted to be from the beginning.” Words hang in the air for a moment, a tear refracting the light peering into the flaming cognac of her eyes as she makes her declaration.

“Your daughter.”

And in that moment, it feels as though Janella’s very soul had a new light beaming through it. Motherly tears are a thing she knows only in grief; leaving behind a son she loved, two children of her own, even, to circumstances she couldn’t do anything to control. Yet, as she pauses to let the words of the girl next to her repeat themselves in her mind, she can’t help a tear falling from her eye. With those two words, this had become just as significant for Janella as it ever could be for Alex.

To be a family. A family of two - but one more closely knit than any other she could have made.

And her smile lights the world up again. And her embrace reminds the girl of how precious she always will be. And the way she speaks so softly through her tears, squealing as she whispers to her, “My darling girl…” ... completes her.

She lets go after a time - though the warmth from the way they held each other fails to leave either of them. The lingering hesitation that Alex feels as the pen hovers above the paper is alleviated with a permitting nod from Janella. And so, triumphantly, her pen lowers to paper again - and then, to the surface of the desk, at least for the moment - and her new name is in full view of the two of them, in the best print she could manage.

Alexandra Alyssa Gale Iskra Cloutier.

“Well,” Alex hums, dry voice creaking just a little. “That’s one page out of the way already.”

“Ah, it was the hardest one, really.”, Janella is quick to reassure. “The rest is all declarations, me being a witness, things like that. We can do that, though, can’t we? Together.”

Together. She can’t see herself being happier than she already is - though, in the minutes that pass as they chat away through the paperwork that once was so daunting breezed past them like nothing, she felt more elated than she could imagine.

She knew only that she had a path to go down since her awakening by her mother’s side, and finally, finally she felt like they were walking that path, hand-in-hand.

She had always been free to do what she wanted - and all she wanted in the moment of triumph as they slipped the papers into an envelope to be sent off was to fling her arms around her mother. To hold her as close as the day they reunited - for now they were properly family. 

“I bet you’re proud of yourself for getting through this, surely?” “Mm-hmm…”, is all the response Alex could muster - until the few seconds where time stood still around them, the warmth of her motherly embrace enveloped her and quelled the excitement that still rocked through her, when she finally looks up, speaks properly; says that one thing she knew she says too much, yet not enough - yet this time, with heart.

“... I love you, Mom.”

[collapsingintojupiter]

6 and 17 from the prompt list? With logince? I really loved your analogical dads and baby Patton 💙

“I need a place to stay.”

“Good thing I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

Oooh this is gonna be fun.

Characters: Logan and Roman

Relationships: Some Logince for you shippers out there.

Warnings: None, I don't think? Let me know if I should add any though.

***

It was, as they say, a dark and stormy night. More stormy than anything else though; thunder rattled and cracked in the sky, shaking the apartment's thin walls as Logan attempted to make himself some soup for dinner.

Okay, so maybe soup was a bit of a generous name to give it. 

Logan stirred his chicken Ramen over the stove, dutifully following the instructions on the package while lightning split the dark sky in half over and over and over again outside the window. In the living room, the TV murmured beneath the clattering of rain on the roof, which had risen to a deafening roar since the storm had first made itself known with cold drops and sharp wind. 

Logan flinched as the gale outside flung a loose branch against the kitchen window with a sharp crack--at least the glass didn't break, any harder and it might've done just that. 

He finished making his Ramen and poured it into a mug, sniffing at it appreciatively as he padded into the living room to eat. His tabby cat, Newton, meowed at him from beneath the couch. She hated storms, and honestly Logan couldn't blame her. She's going to need more food, he reminded himself. The bag's almost empty. I can try to get into town sometime--

A sharp rap at the door forced Logan to pause his thoughts, turning in surprise towards the entrance to his apartment. He wasn't expecting visitors--he almost never was, not only that but he lived in a somewhat shady part of town and it was common for drunks to wander around after dark.

None of them had knocked on his door, though.

Logan waited, and whoever it was knocked again--it sounded almost desperate that time. Clearly the person had no intention of leaving anytime soon, whoever they were. Logan sighed, heading over to the door and cracking it open. 

A tall man in a red and white jacket looked back at him, drenched from head to toe and shivering violently. His form was immediately blurred by the rain that splattered against Logan's glasses.

"Uh, hi--" he sneezed. "Sorry...I uh…I really need a place to stay. Just…" he looked up. "Just until the storm passes. Please… I've tried everyone else on the street, and I--"

"Come in."

The man looked surprised--no, shocked. "Really? I--I can stay?"

"I believe I just said that you could." Logan's voice was concerned, not irritated. This guy was clearly sick on top of whatever had forced him into the storm unprepared.

"Thank you so much, Mr…"

"Call me Logan." He gestured for the other man to step inside, pulling the door firmly shut behind them. 

"Thank you, Logan. My name's Roman, nice to meet you despite the ah, unfortunate circumstances.

Logan nodded. He looked down at his Ramen, then suddenly thrust it into Roman's hands.

"I have plenty extra," he said when he saw the look on the man's face. "Living room is in there, go sit down."

"Logan, please, I can't take this--"

"Good thing I didn't ask for your opinion." Logan said firmly. He pointed at the couch. "Sit."

Roman sat. He looked like he was going to try and argue again, but then he looked down at the Ramen in his hands and the last bit of his resolve faded as he dug in.

"Thank you."

Logan nodded, turning and padding down the hallway to his room. He returned to the living room a few minutes later with a bundle of clothes in his arms, which he set down on the coffee table. Roman looked at the bundle, then up at Logan.

"You're sick," Logan said before he could say anything. "That won't be helped by you sitting around in those wet clothes." He pointed at the hallway he'd just come from. "Bathroom is down there on the left. Change when you're done eating."

"Not that sick," Roman muttered. "You don't have to--" a sudden bout of coughing cut him off, and once he could breathe again Logan was glaring at him with his hands on his hips. He shut his mouth and did as he was told, finishing his Ramen before grabbing the bundle and disappearing down the hall. Logan sighed, then went back into the kitchen to make himself some more Ramen.

Roman came back right as the water started to boil, dressed in a pair of plaid pajama pants and a plain red shirt. He'd toweled off, and now his damp hair hung around his dark eyes, framing his tanned face. A blanket was draped over his shoulders, swirling behind him like a cape as he came into the room.

Despite the entrance, however, Roman looked anything but princely. If anything, he looked all the more forlorn; all the more tired. His walk was more of a stagger, and his breath rattled in his throat as he passed Logan and collapsed weakly onto the couch.

"I'll bring you something to take so that you sleep better tonight." Logan searched through the cupboards, pulling out two green pills and a glass which he filled with water. 

"Thank you," Roman rasped as he handed it to him. Logan nodded and went to retrieve his Ramen. Though he hated to, it would be best if he went to his room early and ate in there so that his guest could sleep.

"I'll leave you alone now," he told Roman, turning to leave.

"No wait!" Roman coughed again, his body shaking under the blanket. "Stay…please? I...I don't much like the dark." 

Logan narrowed his eyes. Had Roman looked so pathetic a few moments ago? He's not…he sighed; defeated. 

"Very well." Logan took his Ramen into the living room and seated himself next to Roman, nibbling at the noodles and glaring at them when his glasses fogged from the steam. Eventually, he heard Roman's voice as he wiped his glasses off for the third time.

"I like your cat." Logan put his glasses back on and looked up to see that Newton had made her way into Roman's lap. The other man was currently stroking her fur, and before long a soft purr rumbled in her throat. She likes him. Newton has good taste, Roman can't be all that bad if she likes him.

"That's Newton," he stated, gesturing to the cat. "I'm surprised she decided to come out from under the couch while the storm was still going."

"You named your cat Newton?" Roman chuckled and then coughed. "That's a new one."

Logan didn't know how to answer that, so he didn't, allowing silence to fall over the room again. Roman was quiet for a while, contenting himself to giving Newton attention, but before long he was talking again.

"Got any stories to tell, Logan?" 

"Stories?" Logan looked up, surprised.

"Yeah. Where are you from? Got any family? A dramatic life story?" He tried to laugh, but all that resulted from it was another bout of coughing.

"There's hardly anything dramatic about my life story," Logan answered dryly. "Strict parents. Youngest of four siblings. Got kicked out when I was sixteen."

"I'd call that dramatic." Roman smiled; he didn't try to laugh this time. He yawned. "I'm from up North; came down to check on my sister. Family business, I guess you could say. We got in a fight and she kicked me out of her house." 

"She kicked you out when you were sick!?" Logan's exclamation brought out a surprised look from Roman.

"Yeah. She was pretty mad." He grinned. "I'm a pain in the ass. Ask anybody I know." 

"Doesn't give anyone an excuse to…" Logan cut himself off, grumbling, and suddenly stood up with a huff. "Are--are you sufficiently tired for me to leave, Roman?"

The man grinned at him. How dare he be so cute. "Yeah, I think so. Night Logan."

Roman stayed for three days, letting Logan take care of him and occasionally snatching a conversation when he could from the otherwise quiet man. Logan didn't understand why, but he found himself looking forward to getting to talk to the odd and rather dramatic character that had stumbled through his door; he was fun to talk to, interesting. He hadn't really realized how lonely he was until Roman came, and Logan enjoyed his company more than he would've liked to admit.

On the fourth day, Roman was gone. There were no goodbyes or anything like that; he just disappeared. Logan woke up to find his clothes folded and stacked in the hallway near his door, the kitchen swept clean and the previous night's dishes washed, the living room straightened up, and most importantly--there wasn't a sign of the princely character anywhere. When Logan went into the kitchen he found a note taped to the refrigerator.

Dear Logan, it said.

I'm sorry about the hasty exit, but I guess life calls at inopportune times and I didn't want to wake you. Thank you for the hospitality you have extended to me these past few days, and the kindness you've shown to me. I appreciate everything you've done immensely, and I hope to pay you back for it one day. In case you're wondering I'll be back eventually, don't worry. I look forward to seeing you again, maybe we can get coffee the next time I'm in town?

In case you want to talk to me before then, here's my number.

Logan couldn't help the slight blush that tinted his cheeks by the time he'd finished reading the letter, and the little smile that crossed his face as he folded the paper and set it down.

Then he went back to his life.

Except, this time, one might have noticed a little more energy in Logan than before; a few more smiles; a different kind of optimism for life that wasn't there before. And while those he knew might speculate on what had changed for him; why he was different, Logan of course knew the real reason.

After all, his prince was coming back. When, Logan couldn't say for sure. He had the feeling that Roman was something of a spontaneous character. 

But he'd be back.

___

There ya go, hope you enjoyed!

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[everlarkbirthdaygifts]

Happy Birthday, thestuckinbed!

Today, we wish @thestuckinbed a Happy Birthday! We hope you’re having a wonderful day so far, and that you got exactly the presents you were hoping for! To kick the birthday feels up a notch, the lovely @mega-aulover has written a story just for you!

PROMPT: I’d love if you could write an in-Panem AU where the reaping doesn’t exist (Everlark, of course😉)

A/N: For @thestuckinbed hope you have the happiest of birthdays. I truly hope you enjoy part one of your gift. Special thanks to @Norbertsmom for her quick and effortless beta skills!

Rated G

Title: Better Tomorrow

The reaping stopped the year Katniss turned 15. The president keeled over and died during the Victory Tour for the previous Games. It was odd when Reaping day came and none of the kids had to appear in front of the Justice Building. Her sister Primrose stopped having nightmares about the Games and her name being called. All Katniss Everdeen had to do was concentrate on survival. That and somehow paying off the debt she owed to Peeta, the youngest son of the town’s baker.

For two and a half years she looked for ways to repay him for saving her life. Katniss looked for ways to speak to Peeta but the opportunity never presented itself simply because Gale Hawthorne always seemed to be around her. Gale was always underfoot trying to impress upon everyone they were a couple, which they weren’t.

Her last two years of high school were basically her following him around trying to find a way to repay him for his kindness.  His burnt loaves of bread not only fed them for a long time but the next time she’d seen him at school she’d seen the red welt on his face. A clear sign his mother, the witch had found out about the bread. From that moment Peeta became her boy with the bread. That afternoon, Katniss looked away and that’s when she saw the dandelion on the ground. The bright little yellow flower was the first sign of Spring, and it caused her to search for her father’s plant book. She used it to scavenge for plants around the district until she went under the fence and foraged for food. Eventually finding her father’s bows hidden in the forest.

With the bow Katniss was able to hunt for animals. It was there she met Gale. He looked old, like a grown up when she met him.  They didn’t trust each other and for the first two years things weren’t easy between them. It wasn’t until Gale saw how easily and effectively she used a bow did he come around to forming a partnership that evolved into a quasi friendship.  

When the Games were cancelled Gale turned his attention onto her like the searchlight of a hovercraft. He insinuated they should have more than what they had at first, then when she turned seventeen he wanted to, “court her.” Katniss found the idea ridiculous.

He argued the Games were gone and there was no need for her to continue with her childhood distaste for marriage and children. She often wondered why she even spoke to Gale, he frustrated and annoyed her. Maybe it was because they were great hunters.

There were a lot of girls that wanted to be with him because he was good looking, but to Katniss he was just so bulky and everywhere. There were times she hated his musky sweaty scent and she often found herself scrubbing her clothing and her body to eradicate the smell. Now that she was eighteen and graduated from school Gale was even more persistent.  Today he was especially even more irritating with the whole ‘they belong together’ shtick.

Katniss couldn’t wait to get rid of him.

“There aren’t any more Games. I don’t understand why you don’t want to get married or have children,” Gale said trailing after her.

“It’s my decision, Gale. What I do with my life, is my decision.” Katniss enunciated each word hoping he would take the hint.

“Come on Catnip, we make sense,” Gale pouted.

“Gale, you’re like family.” Katniss refused to make eye contact with him as she moved passed him in the Hob.  She sat down at Greasy Sae’s stall.

“Katniss, what you got for me?” Sae poured Katniss one of her infamous bowls.

“I’ve got a badger for you, and a few fish.” Katniss took out her catches.

“Very nice,” Greasy Sae said, putting coins on the table.

Katniss was going to take a spoonful when Darius sat next to her.

“Hey hot stuff,” Darius said. He took off his helmet and settled it next to him.

“What’s going on Darius,” Katniss blew on her spoon before she shoved it in her mouth.

“Did you hear about the bakers youngest son?” Darius grabbed the bowl from Greasy.

The mention of Peeta Mellark, her boy with the bread caught her attention. She continued to eat, trying not to show her concern, but she wanted to know what was going on.

“That poor kid,” Greasy Sae said.

“You don’t know. His father declared Peeta is going to inherit the bakery, but his mother is refusing on the grounds that Peeta has never had a girl and has no interest in marrying.”

Hearing the news Katniss frowned and stopped eating. She hadn’t heard any of this. Peeta was the only one who could run the bakery. By taste Katniss knew who had baked the bread. His older brother Colton always made dry bread. River’s bread was always brittle. Their dad’s bread always thin. Peeta’s bread was fluffy, flavorful, and hearty. His cookies always tasted better as well.

“No one knows why he doesn’t want to marry?” Greasy leaned over the counter, answering the question Katniss hadn’t dared to ask.

“Nope but who else can handle the bakery?” Darius sat back. “His older brother Colton moved in with his bride, and the other kid, River, is a drunk. I have to haul his butt from Rippers every other night.”

Katniss stood from the booth and headed out. There was always gossip being spoken at Greasy Sae’s stall. Normally Katniss never paid attention. This time it was about the one person in the entire district that she had a vested interest in. Katniss walked to the bakery and slipped into the backyard. She stood there with her hands in her pockets carefully picking apart the conversation Greasy Sae and Darius had.

As she stood there it occurred to her, she had an opportunity to repay Peeta and to help him out with his bakery. She walked up to the back door. She knocked hoping he would answer. A lot of the time it was his father who opened the door.

Katniss took a deep breath in when she saw Peeta open the door. Her eyes scanned his form. There were a lot of things she noticed about him, the way his forearms were almost always covered with flour, how muscular his arms were, how wide his chest was, the way his mouth crinkled when he smiled, and the way his long silvery lashes never tangled. She also noted his scent, he smelled like bread, cinnamon, and dill. It took her a long time to identify the dill scent, she didn’t know what it was until her mother showed it to her in her father’s plant book. It was used for all sorts of curative purposes.

Katniss located the plant deep in the forest by rocks, the scent was unmistakable when she came upon them in the forest. Gale found her sitting on the forest floor smelling them with the biggest grin on her face ever. He was confused as to why she was so happy, but Katniss never confessed it was because she was reminded of her boy with the bread. A boy who over the summer had grown taller and his stocky frame had become manly and as appetizing as soft fresh bread.

“Hi,” Peeta greeted.

“Hi,” Katniss blurted.

They stood there staring at each other. Katniss wasn’t good with words, she was often lost for words, unless she had verbal diarrhea and that only happened when she was mad or really tired.

“So do you want trade with me?”

“NO!” Katniss shouted. At his confused face she blurted, “I have a business proposition.”

“Oh?” He arched an eyebrow and walked out onto the back stoop. “About trading?”

“No, not exactly,” Katniss began to sweat.

Peeta came closer and she could smell him, and she struggled with the need to sniff the air around her.

“What then?”

“I heard about your dilemma.”

“You heard about my mother have you?” Peeta asked.

“I heard you don’t want to marry, but you need to get hitched in order to keep the business.” The words rushed out of her.

He blinked several times, then rubbed the back of his neck. “What are you proposing?”

“We could get married. It wouldn’t be real since we wouldn’t be doing a toasting. It would be a marriage of convenience.” Katniss felt her knees shake.

“So I would keep the bakery,” Peeta said slowly, “but what’s in it for you?”

“I get Gale off of my back?”

“Come again?” Peeta’s jaw was slightly ajar as if he couldn’t believe what she said.

“Gale wants me to have a toasting with him, but I don’t want to marry him.” She grimaced at the thought of Gale. It was akin to drinking one of her mother's bitter medicinal teas without a hint of sweetener like sugar or honey.

“I thought you two were,” Peeta said as he shrugged, “together.”  

“NO” Katniss shook her head as she spoke. “Gale and I have never been and will never be a thing. Blech!” Katniss was so disgusted by the thought of being with Gale she became physically ill with nausea.

“Okay,” Peeta laughed, “I get it, you’re not into Gale.”

“So what do you say?” For some reason she became nervous. She jammed her hands in her pockets, and it struck her she looked like a hot mess. She had blood stains on her pants and her boots were muddy. She didn’t want to think about what sticks or leaves were sticking out of her hair.

Peeta smiled, he stuck his hand out. “Deal.”

Katniss shook it. “Deal!”

“What’s going on?” Gale said from behind them.

“I’m getting married to Peeta,” Katniss said softly not removing her eyes from Peeta’s face. She liked the way his face filled with color. He looked cute.

“What?” Gale sputtered.

“Tomorrow, I’ll meet you at the Justice Building.”

“Tomorrow it is,” Katniss agreed. Tomorrow she was getting married to her boy with the bread.

[everlastingcaptainswan]

Loyalty Comes At a Price (3/4)

Enchanted Forest, No Curse AU 

summary: The King and Queen are dead and the kingdom has fallen to the Evil Queen. Emma and her brother, Leo barely made it out alive and now Emma has to turn to mercenaries to regain her throne and quickly learns everything has a price.

notes: rated M for a reason... ;)

FF       Ao3

Chapter Three: The Final Battle

Traveling all day by horse sure as hell didn’t feel good on Emma’s leg, but around noon the next day they reach their next camp site and Emma couldn’t be happier to be off the horse and in her tent. The commander’s other nameless captain won’t be here until later in the day. Emma takes the opportunity to rest.

There is quite the commotion in the camp when the commander’s other forces join them. Emma leaves her tent and walks slowly to the middle of camp. Killian, Robin, and Will are all talking to an older dark-haired woman. Red appears at Emma’s side.

“Your commander is a better man than he is given credit for,” Red says crossing her arms.

“He’s not mine,” Emma denies and Red gives her an all-knowing look, “What makes you say that?” she asks.

“That woman is his other captain. Not many mercenaries have women in their ranks, the cowards,” Red sneers. Emma looks back to the group and sure enough the woman is dressed similarly to Robin and Will.

“Oh hell, we better go over there. The commander has caught sight of us,” Red says with a playful smirk and Emma comes along rather reluctantly.

“Ah Your Majesty, Lady Red glad you’ve joined us. This is Captain Gale,” Killian introduces them.

“Your Majesty,” she bows slightly toward Emma, “Please call me Dorothy,” the woman says with a smile for Red.

“Only if you call me Red,” she says with her wolfish grin. Will coughs and the two women break eye contact. Finally, Emma can give Red an all-knowing look that Emma has been getting for weeks now.

“Why don’t we get someone to fetch Lancelot and your brother. Dorothy here has rather important information to share with us,” Killian gestures toward his tent and then grabs a young soldier to give orders to.

It doesn’t take long for them to assemble in the commander’s tent. Killian practically forces Emma to sit down to rest her leg. She calls him a mother hen just to get him to shut up and surprisingly it works. Dorothy grabs their attention, so she can share her information.

“We were able to get some spies into the town surrounding the castle. Rumors are everywhere. No one knows what to believe. The Evil Queen rarely leaves her castle. She’s scared and she’s barricaded herself in there. There’s one thing she wants above anything. That would be you, Your Majesty. She wants you dead,” Dorothy tells them.

“The feeling is mutual. My message should have gotten to her by now,” Emma says, not entirely surprised by this revelation.

“Red’s theory about her magic could be valid if she is hiding out in the castle,” Robin says looking around the tent.

“What is the theory?” Dorothy asks.

“That the Evil Queen’s magic is not at full strength,” Red says simply, not sure how much she should divulge to the new captain.

“There haven’t been any big displays of magic since she took over,” Dorothy comments.

“We should still be wary, she could be luring us into a false sense of security,” Lance warns them, and they nod in agreement.

“That will be important for when we take back the castle, but we have a bigger problem at this moment,” Dorothy tells the group.

“What did you find out on your way here?” Will asks her crossing his arms.

“The Evil Queen has Black Knights marching here as we speak, they should reach this camp in two days’ time,” Dorothy tells them. Emma curses she already knows Killian will sideline her with her leg. She needs to be out there fighting for her land, for her throne. Her gaze meets Killian’s, apprehension already there.

“Don’t even think about it, Your Majesty. If I have to station men here to make sure you stay put than I will,” Killian warns her. Leo rolls his eyes, “let’s hope that will be enough.” Emma glares at her brother and nudges him with her elbow. Emma just crosses her arms and says nothing. The captains and Killian leave to survey the surrounding area for the best advantage in battle.

“Do you really think you can fight on that leg?” Lance asks her eyebrow raised.

“No,” she grumbles, “I can’t have people thinking I won’t fight for this land.”

“You’re injured. That’s more than a valid reason to not be there. They will understand,” Lance argues with her.

“You know he’s right,” Leo pipes up. Emma sighs but nods in agreement. Her leg is healing nicely but it will need a few more days before she can fight on it. It’s frustrating to say the least.

With the mercenaries gone Emma and her people leave the Commander’s tent for the night.

The scouts are able to spot the Black Knights the next day. They wouldn’t be able to reach Emma’s camp until the following day just as Dorothy predicted. Emma was still itching to get back on the battlefield. Her leg was healing nicely, and a full day of walking and standing didn’t bother it at all. Despite her protests and assurances that she was fine Killian didn’t buy any of it for one minute. He finally put his foot down and told her nothing could change his mind. Emma sighed and accepted defeat. The following morning the Black Knights were spotted getting closer and closer. Emma was envious of all of her friends and family getting to go off into the fight. She desperately wanted to join them, but she couldn’t she was stuck here. Emma bid them all good luck and farewell before she went to sulk in her tent.

“Your Majesty,” Killian says clearing his throat as he enters her tent. Emma spins around to see him and two of his men.

“Commander, I thought you left,” she says surprised.

“I will be here in a moment. These men will be outside your tent, for protection,” Killian informs gesturing to the two of them.

“Do you really think I was going to sneak out the moment you left? Do you trust me so little?” she asks, lashing out.  Killian’s stance stiffens and Emma crosses her arms. Killian sighs and sends the guards outside the tent, knowing she is going to fight him on this.

“No, when I give an order, I expect it to be followed even by you, Your Majesty,” he snaps and she continues to glare at him, “If they’re smart, they’ll know you aren’t on the battlefield and send someone here after you. I won’t let anything happen to you.” He turns to leave the tent, anger coursing through his veins and Emma grabs his hand stopping him, she shouldn’t have thought that he didn’t trust her. There is hurt in his eyes, but he is trying to mask it with anger, Emma can see through that.

“Thank you, Commander,” she slips her swan pendant off her neck and presses it into his palm. Killian gives her a questioning look, “For luck,” she says with a shrug. Killian takes her hand and brushes a kiss across the back of it.

“I’ll bring it back to you,” he says with a smile before ducking out of her tent.

“You better,” she calls out after him. Emma hopes everyone comes back from this battle uninjured.

Red stays with Emma while they wait for the battle to be over. Emma was pacing back and forth in her tent, but Red made her sit down.

“You know the commander is using all his resources for you,” Red attempts to say nonchalantly. Emma raises an eyebrow at this.

“What do you mean?” she asks, unsure of what Red is getting at.

“While Dorothy is his captain, he usually doesn’t bring her in to help. She works on her own and brings in a lot of gold doing so. She seems to think that you mean something to him,” Red says waiting for Emma’s response.

“Maybe he isn’t used to taking on murderous queens with magic,” Emma says trying to brush it off. He is in this for the money, not her. Emma shakes her head.

“Perhaps, but it is interesting,” Red says with a mischievous smile.

“How did you find all this out anyway?” Emma asks, effectively changing the subject.

“Dorothy. I didn’t think she’d answer my blunt questions, but she seemed unfazed by them,” Red shrugs not quite looking at Emma.

“Interesting, have you two been spending a lot of time together?” Emma asks carefully. It was no secret that Red preferred the company of women to men. None in the castle ever cared, certainly not Emma.

“Perhaps,” Red says casually.

“Hmm you know mom and dad would be happy you found someone,” Emma says casually. Red’s head snaps to Emma.

“I never said it was like that!” Red exclaims.

“You didn’t have to! I was there when you two met, there were practically sparks flying,” Emma chuckles.

“That’s true,” Red says with a smug smile, “I’ve never met anyone like her.”

“That’s not surprising, there aren’t many women mercenaries. As long as you’re happy that’s all that matters to me,” Emma smiles.

“I know,” Red shakes her head, “Anyway I’m going to get to food, do you want anything?”

“No, I don’t think I could eat right now,” Emma tells her. Red gives her a small smile, “They’ll come back, and everything will be fine.” Emma nods and Red leaves.

The day wears on with no word from the battlefield. It makes both Red and Emma nervous. Just after the sun sets Red leaves in her wolf form to see if she can help them. Emma worriedly paces around her tent.

Emma hears the guards unsheathe their swords and Emma immediately dives for hers. Two bodies thump to the ground as soon as her sword is in hand. Three Black Knights storm into her tent and Emma waits for them to charge before she attacks. They are here to kill her once and for all. They’re going to have to try harder than this, however. She takes the first one down easily with his quite terrible footwork and a well-placed blow with her sword. The last two take her at the same time, which is tricky with her leg that is bothering her quite a bit. She’s able to land quite a few blows, but they aren’t going for the kill quite like she expected. In a particularly tough spot Emma quickly dodges causing one Black Knight to kill another. She able to regain her stance before the last one standing lunges for her. His movements are sloppy and tired and despite the throbbing pain in her leg Emma manages to get past his defenses and sink her sword into his gut. She pulls the sword out and stubbles backward a few steps. In the end Emma collapses on the floor due to the pain in her leg.

There is a large commotion in the camp and Killian comes bursting into her tent, blood and dirt stained from fighting. He scans the room before rushing to her side.

“Are you hurt?” he asks concerned, practically collapsing to his knees in front of her.

“Nothing new. My leg hurts, you were right I wasn’t ready to fight again,” she says shaking her head, sure he will love the fact that she said he was right.

“May I look at it?” he asks her carefully. She nods, grimacing. He pulls up her dress to examine her wound. There is some blood trickling from the wound, but the stitches are still managing to hold it together thankfully. Killian takes a cloth from her wash table and wipes away the blood.

“Commander are you hurt?” she asks, her eyes now scanning him. She’s trying to see if the blood is coming from him or not.

“No injuries, the blood isn’t mine,” he sighs, still looking at her wound. She places a hand on his cheek and makes his gaze meet hers.

“I promise I’ll be fine. The pain will pass,” she says quietly.

“They slipped away. We thought everyone was rounded up, but they managed to escape and when they didn’t retreat… I feared the worst. That I hadn’t protected you, that I failed,” he says frantically.

“Your put guards here. I knew this could happen and I was ready to defend myself. You didn’t fail,” she reasons with him.

“Guards who were killed. It wasn’t enough I should’ve known you would need more protection.”

“Stop blaming yourself for the Evil Queen’s actions. You did what you could and so did I. We’re doing what it takes to survive this. We will be better prepared next time,” she tells him. He nods slowly before resting his forehead against hers.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispers so softly Emma is sure she imagined it for a moment.

“You won’t,” she replies just as softly. Emma revels in how close they are how natural it feels to be with him like this. There is a moment once again where Emma thinks he might kiss her, but Leo bursts through the tent and the jump apart. Leo rushes to Emma’s side and makes sure she isn’t hurt. Killian excuses himself, knowing Emma is capable hands. Killian casts a look of longing before leaving, a look she definitely returns. She can’t deny how she feels about him anymore.

“Are you sure?” Leo asks again as he helps Emma onto her cot.

“Leo, they’re dead. If you want to help get someone to get them out of here,” Emma says exasperated. Her brother just sighs.

“Are you okay?” she asks him. He shakes his head slightly.

“No, you were right,” he says quietly.

“Of course, I am, but about what exactly?” she chuckles.

“The Evil Queen, she should die for what she’s done,” he says anger creeping into his voice. Emma is slightly surprised by this; he was so adamant about being better than the Evil Queen.

“What changed your mind?”

“These battles, the rumors,” he tells her.

“What rumors?” she asks, concerned.

“They’re saying she’s starting to terrorize the villagers around the castle trying to information on you, on us. Ems, this isn’t good,” he shakes his head.

“We knew this would happen. She’s done this before, and they know that too. We’re fighting to get control, to end this once and for all,” she tells him. Leo nods before leaving to grab some people to help clean up the mess in her tent. The medic comes by examining her wound, slightly exasperated that it was bleeding again.

“Rest on it tonight and tomorrow if you want it heal in time,” the medic orders her.

“In time for what?” Emma asks her.

“The final battle, I know you’re anxious to get back out there, most of the men I take care of are. You have that same restless look in your eye. Rest it, that’s how you’ll get there,” the medic says while packing up her bag.

“Fine I’ll rest,” Emma mumbles and the medic just smiles before leaving the tent. Leo and some men take the bodies away rather quickly much to Emma’s relief. Leo checks on her one last time before heading back to his own tent for the night.

Killian come by her tent not long after Leo leaves, “Sorry I had to leave quickly earlier I had to attend to my men.”

“I understand, Commander,” she states simply. Killian takes off the chain with her swan pendant from around his neck. He approaches her bed.

“I wanted to give this back to you. I figured if it made it out of the castle with you the night of the siege it must mean a great deal to you,” he says, pressing the pendant back into her hand.

“It does, my father gave it to me for my eighteenth birthday,” Emma says, ducking her head to place the chain back around her neck.

“Just out of curiosity, why a swan?” he asks her and Emma smiles.

“My father always said I was a swan. Beautiful, elegant, and ready to attack if disturbed,” she says with the glint of mischief in her eye.

“Fitting to be sure, Your Majesty,” he smiles, “I’ll let you rest, we’ll have to discuss strategy in the morning,” he nods to her.

“Of course, Commander,” she nods, and he leaves for the night.

They stay at their camp for the next couple of days. Many of the men were injured in the battle and need a few days to recover before they can move closer to the castle. Emma needs the rest as well. Her leg is healing well and being completely off of it for a day did it a lot of good. The medic tells Emma should be able to fight in a couple days.

They finally move closer to the castle and it all feels surreal to be this close to the castle and not going to it. The castle is Emma and Leo’s home. Even with their parents gone Emma hopes it can feel like their home once again.

Most of the day they plan for the final battle until everyone is practically blue in the face from arguing their best ideas. After making changes to their initial strategy made the cabin the group finally reaches a consensus on the that day. Or so Emma thought until the scouts tell them that forces are approaching. They aren’t the Evil Queen’s forces, however.

“What banner are they carrying?” Lancelot asks.

“Black with a gold castle,” the young scout describes to the tent. Emma rolls her eyes and Leo laughs. Everyone in the tent looks to them with confused looks.

“Who is it?” Killian asks simply, looking from Emma to Leo.

“Queen Katherine, or her son I presume,” Emma explains.

“Your betrothed has finally arrived it seems,” Leo teases with a smile.

“Betrothed?!?” Killian asks clearly taken aback.

“Oh, Commander don’t listen to my brother. Prince Jonathan is not my betrothed,” Emma shakes her head, annoyed with her brother.

“Jonathan simply wishes he were. He’s been after Emma since her coming out ball. Poor man has proposed four times, she turns him down each time,” Leo shakes his head. Killian raises an eyebrow at this.

“Will he help us despite such rejection?” Killian asks, studying Emma’s response.

“He’ll definitely help. Our parents were great friends. He’s probably hoping this will finally win over Emma,” Leo says with a snicker.

“It won’t, but Jonathan will never learn until I marry someone else. He’s lucky Katherine is too stubborn to die,” Emma says casually. There’s an intensity in Killian’s eyes when Emma meets his gaze and my gods it almost stops her heart.

“Very well. Welcome them to camp and bring his Highness here immediately,” Killian orders the young scout, who nods before running out.

“Emma be nice to the man he’s here to help,” Lance says carefully.

“I am always nice to him!” Emma says taken aback.

“Last time he proposed you threw him in the lake!” Lance snaps back. Killian and Robin cackle at this. Will mumbles something like are you sure she’s a queen?

“I have no idea what you’re talking about he slipped halfway through that proposal and fell in,” Emma says, choosing not to look at Lance.

“Oh of course how could we forget that,” Red says with a pointed look.

“Your Majesty remind me to always be on your good side,” Killian bows slightly.

“You better be, Commander,” she says with a mischievous glint in her eye. Prince Jonathan and two guards come into the tent not long after. Jonathan has a tall lanky build with blond hair that falls to his shoulders. He moves to embrace Emma and she has no choice but to accept it and awkwardly pat his back. He lingers much longer than Emma would like before stepping back. He simply nods towards Leo.

“Emma, we were worried about all of you. Mother has been distraught for weeks. We were devastated to hear about your parents,” he tells her.

“Thank you, Johnathan. What brings you here?” Emma asks, cautiously.

“To provide aid of course. Our army isn’t large, but mother and I couldn’t stand by and let you face that monster alone,” he says passionately.

“That is most kind. I must send something to your mother when this is all over. Jonathan, this is Commander Jones and his captains,” Emma gestures towards Killian, Robin, and Will, “You can discuss where your men will best fit in with our forces.” Killian is outright glaring at Jonathan, but Emma ignores it.

“Of course,” Jonathan nods, before turning his attention to the men. Killian quickly figures out where to fold in Jonathan’s men the best. Killian is polite, but brief with the new royal. When their business is concluded Jonathan turns to Emma, “Would you like to join me for a drink in my tent?” he asks her with a smile. Emma can watch Killian stiffen behind Jonathan

“I have some more business to attend to with the commander. Another time perhaps,” Emma quickly brushes him off. Jonathan’s face falls slightly.

“Of course,” he nods slightly before leaving the tent. After a few seconds Emma releases a sigh and Leo chuckles.

“I’m starting to understand why you pushed him into a lake, Your Majesty,” Killian says with a smirk.

“He’s a good man, he’ll be a good ruler, but…” she trails off shaking her head.

“He’s annoying,” Leo fills in for her. Emma tempted to correct him, but doesn’t. They all stay for a little while to keep up the pretense, but when Robin, and Will are called away by Dorothy the tent quickly empties out. Except for Emma, she stays.

“This prince do you trust him?” Killian asks his back turned, not realizing it was just the two of them.

“He’s an ally,” she nods, before sipping some wine out of the goblet in front of her.

“That’s not what I asked,” Killian states turning to face her. There’s a look in his eyes and Emma can’t help but feel drawn to him. Emma stands tired of sitting for too long.

“He’ll deliver on what he’s promised. While I know he’s not here to harm us, I don’t trust he won’t ask for my hand again,” she says thoroughly annoyed, shifting her weight from one foot to the next.

“Not to be insensitive, but most princesses are married off much younger than you. Why did you never say yes to him or any of the many suitors I’m sure you had,” he teases her, moving closer to her.

“My parents married for love and were quite adamant that I do the same. I thought then that I should’ve been married off to someone with something to offer the kingdom, but they turned down any marriage proposal of the sort,” she chuckles.

“What do you think now?” he asks, his curiosity growing more and more.

“That it wouldn’t be terrible to marry for love if given the choice,” she says a little breathless. Killian could move mountains with the intensity of his stare. Emma is about to close what little space is left between them when a soldier runs into the tent. Emma and Killian jump apart. Killian is annoyed with his soldier’s poor timing, for once he was about to say fuck it and finally pull her into his arms, to have her where he wanted her at last. Unfortunately, Killian is needed elsewhere in the camp and has to follow the soldier out of his tent. Killian can’t help but notice that Emma has the same disappointed look in her eyes as he does.

The next morning the group moves the camp to hopefully their last resting place before the final battle. In the cool morning air Emma adorns herself with clothes for sparring with the hope that either Lance or the commander is free. To Emma’s surprise in the clearing in the middle of camp she finds the commander sparring with some of his men. Despite the cool breeze in the morning air Killian was worked up a sweat. Emma stands to the side with the others, her hand perched on her sword’s handle.

His fighting style seems almost effortless to the commander. The natural, fluidity of his movements is what gives him his effortless look. When Killian unarms his last soldier and his eyes turn to the few people gathered. When he spots Emma, a smile crosses his face.

“Your Majesty,” he says as he approaches her, “I see you’re dressed to spar. Are you looking for a rematch?”

“A rematch, no I don’t think so. If you recall Commander, I won our first spar,” she teases.

“Ah technically you did, but you didn’t play fair,” he teases her right back, “If not a rematch then why are you here?”

“I need to make sure my leg is ready for tomorrow. So, don’t hold back Commander,” Emma says, stepping soundly out into the clearing, unsheathing her sword.

“Oh, I certainly don’t intend to,” he says with a playful smile. Killian charges her and she swiftly blocks his attempted blows.

“You’re going to have to try better than that,” she teases advancing forward for a few blows of her own. Killian frowns, but then determination crosses his face. Killian blocks them effectively and almost knocks her down. Emma regains her footing and smiles, “That’s more like it.”

The pair go around and round, each of them pushing the other. Emma’s forehead glistening from sweat, it feels good to be moving like this once again. Emma suspects that Killian was holding back the first time they fought, but he isn’t now. His footwork and movements are impeccable. While examining him she missteps and Killian pounces on the opportunity to attack. With a flick of his wrist her sword lies in the grass and Emma stumbles backward, falling onto the grass. She lies there on the grass for moment the warm sun beating down on her. She takes a deep breath before propping herself on her elbows to look at the commander, who looks victorious.

“Well played Commander,” she concedes. He walks over to her side, looking down.

“Thank you, Your Majesty. Now, if I help you up are you going to do what happened last time?” he asks her. Emma chuckles remembering their first fight.

“No, I won’t. You’re not standing in the right spot,” she whispers. He shakes his head and offers her his hand. She takes it gladly and he helps Emma to her feet.

“How’s your leg feeling?” he asks her. His blue eyes searching hers.

“Never better, it held up just fine,” she tells him, still holding onto his hand not wanting to let go. Dorothy approaches and grabs Killian’s attention.

“I’m afraid I’m needed elsewhere. We’ll have a last strategy session a little after midday, Your Majesty,” he informs her before brushing a kiss across the back of her hand.

“Of course, Commander,” she nods. Killian drops her hand and follows Dorothy. Emma turns and walks back toward her tent.

“So, are you going to do something about that or not?” Dorothy asks Killian as they walk to another part of camp.

“Excuse me?” Killian asks shocked that Dorothy would ask such a thing. He expects it from Robin and Will, but Dorothy doesn’t really get involved in personal matters.

“Still in denial I see, that’s fine for now. I’d act fast if I were you, she won’t stay unwed forever,” she advises, and Killian is still shocked she would solicit free advice. Killian shuts his jaw before he says anything stupid.

Their strategy session was supposed to be short and really just confirming what they previously planned. However, all potential plans and strategies were gone over just one more time. They had to be sure. They had to know this was the best plan possible. The final battle will take place tomorrow morning. With being so close to the castle a curfew will placed on the camp tonight in case they have any unwanted visitors. The only person who seems to have a problem with the plan is Prince Jonathan. Now more than ever Killian understands why Emma never accepted his proposal.

“I still think it’s too dangerous for Emma,” he says, again. He directs his concerns to Killian. Not Emma herself. If he wasn’t helping them Killian would’ve personally told off this moron well before now.

“Jonathan, that’s not your decision to make. I can handle myself as you well know. I’ve certainly bested you many times to show that,” Emma says her tone icy.

“I just have your best interests at heart,” he says shocked.

“No, you don’t,” she scoffs, “That witch killed my parents and took my throne. I will do whatever it takes to gain avenge their deaths. If you have a problem with my methods then there is no need for you to stay,” Emma says, finally snapping, “Also, Commander Jones doesn’t make decision regarding my welfare, so stop addressing him. I make those decisions.”

“It seems I have overstepped. I’m sorry, Your Majesty. It’s been a stressful time. I’ll be adjourning to my tent for the rest of the day. See you all in the morning,” he says quickly standing. Everyone, but Emma nods before he runs out.

“Relations with their kingdom may be strained now,” Lance mutters.

“Not while Katherine is on the throne, he’ll get over it when his time comes,” Emma scoffs.

“You practically crushed him, Ems,” Leo chuckles.

“Good, I hoped he learned from it. I’m tired of every man thinking he can do my job better than I can,” she huffs. Every man in the tent falls silent and Red smiles.

“You’ll be putting them in your place their entire life,” Red muses.

“So, it seems,” Emma sighs and looks to Killian, “Anything else, Commander?”

“No, unless anyone else has an objection?” Killian asks the room, and everyone shakes their heads, “Good, then let’s call it a night. We’ll need all of our strength for tomorrow.” They all nod and slowly they file out of the commander’s tent. Despite what he said he doubt many of them would rest tonight. Tomorrow could be the end of all of them.

The cool night air causes Emma to pull her cloak around her tighter before carefully pushing back the opening to Killian’s tent. She could see the lights from the outside and knew he was still awake. Even after they long, trying day they’ve had in the late hours of the night he’s pouring over maps and potential plans. He looks up and locks eyes with her.

“Your Majesty come in please. Sit down,” he gestures to one of the many chairs at his table. She nods and takes a seat.

“Would you like a drink?” he asks her

“Please,” she says, finally trusting her own voice. Killian stands and gives her a worried look before turning to pour them some rum.

“Is there something I can help you with?” he asks turning back handing her a glass. She accepts it, taking a large gulp from it.

“No, not really. I just couldn’t sleep. I was out walking around the camp and saw the lights on in your tent….” she trails off seeing the look of anger on his face, “What?”

“There’s a curfew for a reason. You know you’re not supposed to wander around the camp on your own,” he says shaking his head, “What if the Evil Queen shows up, or Black Knights. It’s not safe!” Killian runs a hand through his hair.

“She could show up at any time, me hiding in my tent won’t remove the threat,” Emma says exasperated. This is a conversation they’ve had before. Emma grows tired of men being worried for her.  

“You like to throw yourself into danger, but you can’t once you’re on the throne,” Killian tries to reason with her. Emma stands at this.

“I won’t hide like a scared coward either,” she practically hisses at him. He shakes his head, frustrated by her. Emma moves to him and places a hand on his shoulder.

“Killian, I can protect myself. Something you know all too well. Right now, there are more important things to worry about,” she tells him. He stares at her in shock, blinking a few times.

“Say that again,” he tells her when he finally finds his voice again.

“That I can protect myself…?” she says confused and he shakes his head.

“My name,” he whispers, and she blushes. Emma hadn’t even realized that she’d said it. She didn’t realize it would affect him this much. She’d come so accustomed to the little game they were playing of not calling the other by their given name, but she was frustrated, and his name just slipped out. Emma moves closer to him and places a hand on his cheek.

“Killian,” she whispers, and he closes his eyes reveling in hearing how his name sounds coming off her lips. His hand falls to her hip. Her thumb sweeping back and forth across his cheek. He surges forward and his lips capture hers. Gods their softer than she could ever imagine. He wraps an arm around her waist pulling her closer. This causes her to gasp and he slips his tongue into her mouth. She grips onto his shoulder, never wanting this to end. She had imagined kissing him many times, but damn she never imagined it would as good as this.

Emma’s eyes spring open when her calf hits his cot, not realizing they had crossed the room. She allowed herself to be lost in their kiss. His eyes are open gazing into hers. Emma unties her cloak and let’s it fall to the ground. Underneath she was only wearing her thin white shift that she sleeps in.

“Emma,” he says breathless. Her heart skips a beat, her world stops.

“Say it again,” she whispers in awe, her heart thundering in her chest. She understands why he was so flustered before because my gods to hear him say her name is like nothing else.

“Emma...” She stands on her tiptoes, capturing his lips with hers. Her hands make quick work of getting underneath his fighting leathers that he is never seen without. Her hands roam his chest, her fingers moving through his chest hair, she never would’ve expected it to be as soft as it is. Killian palms her breast through the thin shift, which certainly catches her attention and causes her to moan into his mouth. Her eyes snap open and catch his. All these weeks of teasing and flirting has kept her on the edge of her seat, made her wound up. She wants him more than she can ever explain. That look of wanting is in his eyes, the eyes that are always able to see through her regal composure to her, to Emma.

Silently Emma grabs the end of her shift and pulls it over her head, making her bare to him. His pupils dilate, but he says nothing before sweeping her into his arms to gently lay her down on his cot. Killian places a kiss on her thigh. He moves silently over to her other and placing a kiss on her healed wound. The action sends a shiver up her spine.

“Beautiful, My Queen. Nothing could compare,” he whispers. Emma won’t deny that her heartbeat quickens when he calls her that.

“You liked being called that?” he asks a seductive glint in his eye as he trails soft kisses up her thighs. Emma nods, not trusting her own voice at this exact moment in time.

“Hmm I’ll have to keep that in mind,” he says before gently kissing her outer lip, “I’d follow you to the ends of the world, My Queen.” When his tongue reaches her clit, she almost lets out a moan right there. He pulls away and she whimpers at this.

“Emma, I want to hear every delicious sound you want to make. Don’t hold back,” he tells her a lustful look in his eyes that Emma could certainly get used to seeing. He tongue returns to its previous spot and Emma releases a moan. His tongue moves faster and faster, in small tight circles around her clit. He slips a finger inside of her and moves it in and out slowly at first then increasing the pace. Emma’s embarrassed by how close she is to her release already, by the desperate sounds she’s making.

“Killian,” she cries out. He hums his approval, but never stops what his tongue is doing. He wants to give her pleasure like she’s never known. Especially when that pleasure makes her say his name like that. He slides another finger inside of her with the other.

“Killian, I- I’m...” she says breathless, not sure how much longer she can hold back her release. His thumb replaces his tongue and Killian looks deeply into her eyes.

“Emma, let go. I’ve got you,” he whispers to her. Those words alone send her over the edge, her walls clamping down on his fingers. Bliss and ecstasy rolling through her in waves. She’s been with other men before of course, but that was scratch an itch. It has never been like this; it’s never felt like this. Killian slowly withdraws his fingers and licks them clean.

“You taste divine, My Queen,” he practically purrs.

Emma pulls him down on top of her. Her hands fly immediately to his pants trying to get his sinful leather pants off. He chuckles at her feverish attempts before he swiftly pushes them down his legs, finally letting his hard-throbbing cock spring free. Emma bites her lip at the sight of him. Once he’s free of his clothes Emma pulls him down with her.

“Eager, My Queen?” he teases her with a devilish grin.

“Only as much as you are,” she smiles. Emma takes his cock in her hand and pumps him slowly. Killian lets out a string of curses at her touch, how badly he wants to be inside of her.

“Emma, I need-” he hisses as her hand starts moving faster.

“What do you need, Killian?” she asks with a knowing smile on her face. Hearing her say his name again almost breaks him then and there.

“You, only you,” he tells her a little breathless. She releases him and Killian swoops in kissing her before she can say anything. Emma’s legs spread open the invitation clear as day, “I need you more than you’ll ever know.” Those final words break his restraint and he pumps his cock once before sliding into her slowly. They both release sounds of pleasure. She’s tight and wet around him. Killian is moving ever so slowly, allowing Emma to get used to him. Emma wraps her legs around him, bringing them even closer.

“Killian…” she sighs, needing more.

“Emma?” he says dragging back his hips ever so slowly. She’s writhing beneath him and it’s something he could watch for the rest of his days.

“I need you to move!” she practically cries out as he snaps his hips forward.

“With pleasure,” he whispers in her ear. Killian increases the pace, his cock hitting her deeper and deeper. Emma lets out a series of curses and sounds she didn’t know she had in her. Each of them seeming to add more fuel to Killian’s fire. He marvels at how she feels around him, the sounds he can elicit from her. Her fingers grip at his back harshly, digging into his skin. Emma wants to leave a mark on him and he’s fine with that. She can stake her claim on him; she doesn’t need to because he is already hers and has been for some time now.

Killian can feel her walls beginning to contract around him. His fingers fly to her clit, moving furiously. He wants her walls to clench him, to make him fall into ecstasy with her.

Emma calls out his name once again, his hand on her clit and how deep he hits inside her becoming too much. It’s all so much. No man has ever made her come twice, but gods she’s never felt like this about any man before. She kisses the side of his neck, her hands moving into his hair and pulling tightly.

“Killian!” she cries out as her walls clamp around him as she falls over the edge again and again. Her orgasm triggers his. Killian’s hand falls away from her clit to stabilize himself as his hips jerk forward a couple times before he spills inside of her, calling out her name. He falls down on top of her his arms, hell, his whole body shaking from his orgasm. Killian’s eyes catch hers and she looks equally spent as well. He kisses her softly before slowly pulling out. She whimpers at the loss and Killian kisses her forehead. He gently brings her into his arms, holding her to his chest before drifting off to sleep.

Emma wakes up feeling much warmer than she usually does. The tents don’t provide much warmth. She opens her eyes and realizes she’s chest to chest with Killian. She remembers the night’s previous activities and blushes. Her legs are tangled with his. Emma wishes she could never leave this place to just stay with him here. They have to leave this tent. They have to face today. From the lack of noise coming from outside of the tent, Emma guesses it is still the early morning hours. Knowing she should return to her tent before anyone thinks she’s missing, Emma kisses Killian’s cheek and disentangles herself from him. He stirs slightly in his sleep, but doesn’t wake.

Emma quietly dresses and scurries back to her tent. The sun is barely pushing over the horizon. Once in her tent Emma washes herself and prepares for the day ahead the best she can. Red comes by with a peculiar look on her face.

“What happened last night?” Red asks, unsure of Emma’s mood.

“Nothing happened, what makes you think something happened?” Emma says rather quickly.

“You finally took him to bed, didn’t you? There’s no use denying it, I can smell it all over you,” she says with her wolfish smile. Emma doesn’t say anything, just averting her gaze from Red.

“We have more important things to do today then gossip,” Emma says, dismissing her entirely. Red knows better than to push Emma when she isn’t ready. Red drops the subject and helps Emma prepare for the upcoming battle.

Their plan is to attack the castle from multiple sides, so the Evil Queen cannot escape. Killian and his forces will attack the front gates. Will and Robin’s will attack from the sides, and Dorothy will attack from behind. Jonathan’s men will be with Will’s forces seeing as a fair few of his men were lost in the last battle. Leo and Lancelot will be with Killian’s forces. This thought brings Emma some comfort knowing that Killian will watch out for Leo as much as possible.

Before they head into their positions in the early morning hours Killian isn’t able to find Emma. He knows she’s somewhere, but they have a million things to do before the battle. He hasn’t seen her at all this morning. He simply doesn’t have the time and damn he wishes they did have it. He wishes he could tell her everything, that he could tell her how he feels, how he wants it all with her, Emma.

At some point she crept out of his bed without so much of a farewell. Perhaps she didn’t want more than one night from him. Perhaps she couldn’t bare saying farewell. Either way his heart ached slightly. He was looking forward to waking with her in his arms. He was looking forward to telling her his hopes and dreams for them. Although they have more important things to deal with at the present time. Maybe she had the right idea, maybe this wasn’t a conversation to be had now.

When they assume their positions, Leo finds him and gives him a curious look.

“Whatever is bothering you isn’t important now. Only one thing matters now,” Leo says sternly. Killian shakes his head.

“You’re right, Your Highness. Don’t worry about me. My men and I have not lost a battle yet. I don’t intend to start now,” Killian says with a prideful glint in his eye. Leo smiles while he takes his bow off his back.

Emma and August approach the castle with Dorothy’s forces in order to sneak in through the same passage that Emma and Lance used the night of the siege. As the battle is beginning Emma and August break off from the group and creep along the castle wall hoping the guards are too distracted to notice two people. They finally reach the stream where the secret passage exits and they silently wade through the stream and back into the castle, back into Emma’s home.

Once safely inside the castle without a guard in sight Emma releases a sigh. Much of their planned hinged on her and August getting in here undetected and so far, they seemed successful.

“Out with it, what’s bothering you?” August whispers as they creep through the old, dark passageway.

“Nothing,” she whispers back, not looking at him.

“Emma, I’ve known you for our entire lives I know when something is bothering you. Is it about killing the queen? No one would blame you if you couldn’t,” August tells her as they begin their ascent up another flight of stairs.

“No, it’s not about that. I’m prepared for what I have to do,” she shakes her head.

“But there is something…” August trails off patiently waiting for Emma to tell him. She sighs, they do not have time for this right now. They hadn’t seen any guards yet, but they could at any moment.

“There is,” she whispers again, “The commander and I…” she starts not even sure where to begin.

“Oh, I see it has to do with him,” August acknowledges.

“Yes, it does. I may have truly ruined things,” she cringes at her actions this morning, sneaking out when she should’ve stayed. They move down another dark, dank passageway.

“He worships the ground you walk on; I highly doubt you’ve done anything that cannot be redeemed,” August snorts. Emma shakes her head.

“I’m not sure about that,” she says quietly. August gives her a harsh look.

“Do you love him?” he asks her bluntly. She blinks a few times, no one had asked her that before.

“Yes,” she says shakily, not meeting her oldest friends’ eyes. It was something she had barely admitted to herself let alone anyone else.

“That’s all that matters. Whatever happened can be redeemed,” he tells her, and Emma just nods in agreement. They reach the door of that will lead them to the old servant’s corridor that was no longer in use. This was another flaw in their plan. Plenty of guards could be waiting for them behind this door, even with the door hidden on the other side. They wanted to go undetected as long as possible. Emma sucks in a deep breath before opening the door, both of them at the ready. The door swings open slowly and there is no one waiting for them. Emma and August share a surprised look. The plan was to draw all the guards away from the castle and into the battle. So far that seemed to be working. Emma always had faith that the plan would work, but no plan ever went perfectly. They enter the staircase and shut the door behind them.

With both swords drawn and at attention Emma and August ascend the stairs. When they reach the next exit August moves to the front and peers out before allowing Emma to follow him. They haven’t seen a guard yet and a bad feeling is growing in the pit of Emma’s stomach. It has been too easy, too quiet.

They swiftly move through the castle, making their way towards the throne room where they hope the Evil Queen will be. They use a side entrance to the room. There is not even a single guard left to protect the Evil Queen. The bitch has her head held high sitting on her mother’s throne, Emma’s throne.

“You two finally made it, I was wondering when you’d get here,” the Evil Queen says with prideful smile. Emma can’t understand why. Until Emma sees the heart clutched in her hand. Emma turns to August, fear and disbelief in her eyes. He advances on her and she raises her sword just in time to block his blow. Tears form in her eyes.

“Emma, I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you,” he manages to choke out. The tears flow down her cheeks.

“I know you didn’t,” she sobs. The night of the siege he never made it out of her clutches she planted a spy with Emma. Why didn’t the queen attack sooner? She knew their plan, why not stop it? Emma’s doing her best to fight off August without actually hurting him. It’s not an easy task

“I can see the questions spinning through your head. I wanted you to come here of your own free will. I wanted your people to see you try and defeat me and see how you failed miserably so no one would ever challenge me again,” she cackles. August is able to get in a few blows while Emma’s distracted, knocking her to the ground. He charges forward and she rolls out of the way before his blow hits her.

“Emma, you have to kill me. It’s the only way to kill her. She’s not strong enough to fight you on her own,” August manages to tell her before falling to his knees.

“I can’t-” she says frantically, her eyes search his. He clutches his chest in agony.

“Please,” he pleads with her, “let me die a hero. Let me protect you in ways I haven’t been able to in weeks,” His words break something in her and she kicks his sword out of his hand. In one swift motion she plunges her sword deep into his chest.

“All of Misthaven will know of your sacrifice,” she sobs before withdrawing her sword. A sense of peace seems to wash over her lifelong friend and not long after the life leaves his eyes.

“Well, I was hoping he’d fight for life until the end, but clearly he loved you too much for that,” the Evil Queen snarls, clearly disgusted. A new sense of rage fills Emma. The woman before her has taken almost everyone she holds dear, her parents and now one of her closest friends. Not to mention the terror she has inflicted on the people of Misthaven.

Emma takes a closer look at her and realizes August was right. The Evil Queen was weak. Her face aged far beyond her years, purple bags beneath her eyes. A frail hand holding a no longer glowing heart. The Evil Queen quickly drops the heart as if it offended her.

“He may be the only man that does. Your commander certainly doesn’t,” she snarls at Emma, who stops in her tracks, “I should say he won’t be once he realizes your kingdom is broke. That’s mercenaries care about you know. Their loyalty is bought,” Emma drops her blood covered sword and pulls the dagger from her boot. She throws the dagger and it flies the short distance between the two women and sinks into the Evil Queen’s chest. Blood begins to trickle from the wound. Emma stands in front of the woman who has taken everything from her.

“You didn’t even fight…” Emma says stunned.

“My magic is gone, has been for weeks now. I used the last of it the night of the siege. Without it there isn’t much to live for. I thought August would kill you,” she says her face contorted in pain. Emma shakes her head, yanking out the dagger.

“You took everything from me, you deserve everything that has happened to you,” Emma glares at the dying queen, blood now rushing from the wound.

“That might be true, but you’re not prepared for what is coming for you,” she cackles with her last dying breath. The Evil Queen’s last words fill her with a sense of fear.

“Well, well Dearie. It looks like you got exactly what you wanted,” a sickly-sweet voice chuckle from behind her. Emma turns slowly to find a short man with iridescent pale green skin. A man she’d only heard about in her parent’s stories.

“You must be Rumpelstiltskin,” she says still trying to size him up, dagger still in hand.

“You would be correct, more than just a pretty face I see,” he chuckles.

“What do you want?” she glares at him, knowing better than to trust him.

“Your parents wouldn’t give me what I wanted, so I released Regina from her curse, she promptly killed them and retrieved what I wanted,” he tells her as he walks over to the body.

“You’re the reason they’re dead,” she says through gritted teeth.

“No, I released Regina and told her she only had to retrieve what I wanted. She decided to kill them, to get her revenge, Dearie.” He says while plucking a vile from Regina’s cleavage.

“Why tell me any of this?” she says shaking her head.

“Your parent’s debt is now paid. I’ve been watching your efforts over the past weeks, you’re a force to be reckoned. I’m immortal, so you can’t kill me, but I have other matters to deal with and rather not worry about you coming after me.”

“Who says I won’t?” she asks with crossed arms.

“You’re smarter than your parents were, and you have a kingdom to rebuild,” he says before vanishing in a plume of red smoke.

With the reality of has happened, of what she has done washes over Emma and she collapses on hard stone floor. What feels like minutes, but could be hours later the throne room doors burst open. Killian, who is soaked in blood with terror in eyes, frantically looking around. When he finds Emma there a small moment of relief. He rushes to her side, “My Queen, are you hurt?” he asks her, his eyes searching hers.

“No,” she lets out a sob, “I had to kill August, she had his heart. He was spying on us.” Killian pulls her into his arms.

“We kept finding Black Knights on the edge of camp I could never figure out how they knew where we were,” Killian mutters and Emma eyes go wide.

“You never said anything,” she says, shocked.

“You had bigger things to worry about, your safety was mine to worry about and no one else’s,” he tells her.

“So noble,” she says shaking her head. A pained look crosses his face.

“Emma, we have to go,” he says quietly. Worry and panic fill her.

“What happened?” she asks as he helps her to stand firmly on her feet.

“It’s Leo, he was hurt. My medics are seeing to him now,” he tells her, and she grips his hand tightly.

“Take me to him now,” she says her voice as steady as she can keep it. Killian simply nods and he leads her out of the throne room and up the staircase to their old rooms. From the looks of it Regina hasn’t touched anything. Killian pulls her into Leo’s room.

Her brother’s chest is covered in blood, an arrow sticking out of his shoulder. Two medics looking over him. Emma gasps. Leo and Lancelot turn their heads towards her. Leo then groans.

“You shouldn’t have told her until I was fine,” he grumbles, and her eyes go wide. Emma rushes to his side, dropping Killian’s hand.

“If you weren’t wounded right now, I’d hit you! Are you out of your mind? What, was he just not supposed to tell me my brother was bleeding out with an arrow in him!” She yells and he cringes, “That’s what I thought,” she turns to one of the medics, “What are you doing for him?” The medic looks a little shocked that she was addressing her.

“The blood flow to his arm has been compromised, but once we remove it the blood flow should return. We are taking good care of him, he will be fine, Your Majesty,” the medic tells her calmly. Emma nods, tears flowing down her face. She squeezes Leo’s good hand before Killian pulls her back so the medics can do the work they need to. They quietly file out of the room and into the hallway.

Emma immediately turns on Lance, “Did you know?” she asks with venom in her voice.

“Know what?” he asked, confused.

“Did you know they made a deal with the Dark One? Did you know we’re in this mess because they didn’t hold up their end of the bargain?” she hisses at him. Emma’s practically launches herself at him, Killian has a hand wrapped around her arm holding her back.

“What the hell happened in the throne room?” Lance asks her in confusion, still not understanding her. Emma rolls her eyes and sucks in a deep breath before telling them the story of what happened in the throne room.

“And then he just disappeared in a cloud of red smoke,” she shakes her head, “I need to know what the hell happened the weeks leading up to the siege. I need to know how we got into this mess.”

“Are you going to heed his caution about trying to kill him?” Lance asks her carefully. While revenge has driven her these past couple weeks, Emma can’t deny how tried she is and how much she just wants to rebuild her kingdom.

“He’s immortal what’s the point?” she sighs.

“Your Majesty, do you want my forces to go after him?” Killian asks her, sternly.

“There’s no way to kill him, how would you even accomplish such a task?” she snaps back.

“Emma, I asked what you want, not what’s practical,” he says frustration in his eyes. She’s shocked he’s used her given name especially in front of Lancelot, who noticed as well.   

“No, I don’t want to go after him, Killian! He’s the damned Dark One, that’s a suicide mission. I’d rather rebuild my broken kingdom and be prepared for if he returns,” she says exasperated.

“I’ll get our people researching about him and what happened exactly,” Lance reassures her. Emma just nods, leaning against the wall her eyes shut. Lance nods to Killian before walking off to take care of business.

“You should rest, the medics could take hours,” Killian tells her.

“Or they could done in a few minutes,” she counters, keeping her eyes closed, exhaustion starting to weigh on her. So, she’s going to be stubborn and avoid looking at him, that’s fine she can do whatever she pleases. She clearly does that already since she slipped out of his tent last night.

“Fine,” he says, and she opens her eyes and can see his jaw clench, “I’ll make sure Will and Robin managed to secure the castle.” Killian gives her a longing look before he leaves. He didn’t say anything akin to farewell, he didn’t bring up the night before. Perhaps he just wanted one night with her, one night with a Queen.  

Once he vanishes from sight she sinks down to the floor and sitting with her back against the wall. It was many hours before she could see Leo again. He was healed and healthy with his arm functional, she burst into tears at the sight of him. He just rolled his eyes telling her he was always going to be fine.

Not long after her teary meltdown Leo has a maid lead Emma to her chambers for some much-needed rest. The maid helps her out of her blood-stained clothes and into a thin shift. It’s surreal that she’s in her room once again. The Evil Queen hadn’t touched any of her possessions it seemed, but the maid told her that her parent’s suite had been demolished, only a few things were recognizable. Silence fills the room as Emma realizes how much she’s changed since her last night in this room. The maid leaves bidding Emma goodnight. She climbs into bed and sleep washes over Emma quickly.

[thewyloren]

Day One - Scream *SPOILERS ABOUND - YOU’VE BEEN WARNED!*

Scream (1996 - Rated R) Directed by Wes Craven.  Starring Neve Campbell, Skeet Ulrich, Courteney Cox, and Drew Barrymore.

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

What was once an innocent question is now an iconic line from 1996′s slasher classic, Scream.  While director Wes Craven is known best for A Nightmare on Elm Street where he was also a writer, Craven did not pen Scream.  The story comes from the mind of Kevin Williamson who went on to work on I Know What You Did Last Summer, and The Faculty; also horror films involving teens, so let’s say he’d found his niche.  It’s not too surprising to learn Williamson also created the hit teen series Dawson’s Creek.

If you’ve never seen Scream before, the killer is disguised in a halloween costume which is coined later as “Ghost Face Killer.”  He terrorizes high schoolers of Woodsboro, mainly Sidney Prescott, daughter of a woman brutally murdered a year earlier.  But her killer was put behind bars, so it couldn’t possibly be the same guy.  Right?

Scream grabs you within the first five minutes.  Poor innocent Casey Becker, played by Drew Barrymore, is home alone, about to start a movie and chill, when a phone call disguised as a wrong number turns into a game of cat and mouse, leaving her gutted, hanging from a tree for her parents to find.  One must always remember the killer from Friday the 13th is, in fact, not Jason Voorhees, but his mother.  Better luck next time, Casey.

Killed within ten minutes of the movie, one has to wonder why on earth a star like Barrymore would agree to play that part.  According to Barrymore herself, she wanted that role.  While she was sought out to play the lead role of Sidney Prescott, once reading the script, she asked for the role of Casey.  Writer Williamson originally wanted actress Alicia Silverstone (Clueless) for the role of Casey.  As if!  Barrymore nailed it, solidifying herself as an official Scream Queen with her memorable and iconic scene.

While audiences are recovering from Casey’s shocking death, we’re introduced to the main protagonist, Sidney Prescott, played by fresh faced Neve Cambell, star of The Craft and drama series Party of Five.  Portrayed immediately as young and naive, we see her being pressured to be more sexual by her boyfriend Billy Loomis, played by cutie Skeet Ulrich, donning his best Johnny Depp look.  Depp stars in Nightmare on Elm Street, so maybe Craven figured that “look” was part of some kind of horror film formula for success.  Who knows?

We learn Sidney and Billy have been dating for two years.  My first thought?  Two years and this guy is still whining about her being a virgin?  Dumpppp himmmmm.  But apparently it wasn’t always like this.  The beginning of their relationship started out hot and heavy (but which relationship doesn’t, amirite?) then somewhere it falters... Sidney grows a bit cold as far as physical touch goes.  Ah hah.  That would be when her mom was brutally raped and murdered.  

The quaint (but rather rich... I mean, everyone’s living in these huge fancy farmhouses and none of these kids seem to have jobs, other than Randy, whom I’ll get back to soon) town of Woodsboro is shooketh.  They haven’t seen crime like this since Sid’s mom.  

With Sid’s dad out of town for work, Sid waits around for her best friend Tatum (Rose McGowen) to pick her up for a sleepover.  Sid gets a prank call and assumes its their friend Randy.  Told you I’d come back to him.  Randy works at a video store and makes many references to scary movies.  In fact, the movie itself is very meta.  Lots of name dropping and parallels to other horror classics.  “Randy” gets Sid to chat about scary movies where Sid confesses she hates them because they’re all the same.  “The big breasted actress that can’t act always runs upstairs instead of outside; it’s insulting” (I’m paraphrasing) which is comical because once she learns the voice on the phone is not Randy, and the person calling is actually in the house and attacks her, she can’t get out the front door, forcing her to run upstairs.

Hiding herself in her bedroom, Billy pops into the window and a cell phone falls out of his pocket.  Dun dun dun!  All signs point to Billy!  There’s no way it can’t not be Billy!  But we are so conditioned by Scooby Doo as kids.  It’s never who we think it is.  There’s always a red herring.  There’s always a twist.  So while we believe they want us to think it’s Billy, we’re smarter than that.  We know it can’t really be him.  Because where’s the fun in that?  Giving away the killer so soon?  Nah bruh.  We’ll wait for the big epic “ah HA, I knew it wasn’t Billy” moment.

After a pit stop at the police station where both Sid and Billy are questioned, Sid stays over at Tatum’s house where the killer phones yet again, accusing Sid of “fingering the wrong guy again.”  Whoa, whaaat?  The wrong guy?  AGAIN?

It’s not long after we learn that Sidney testified against her mother’s killer, Cotton Weary, putting him away for good.  Tabloid journalist (think today’s TMZ) Gale Weathers played by Courteney Cox in a horrid neon green dress suit believes in Cotton’s innocence.  She made bank writing a book about the tragic event surrounding Sid’s mom and Sid ain’t too happy about it.  

Running into Billy at school, Sid and Billy chit chat about how the anniversary of the death of her mother is coming up and Billy thinks Sid should just “get over it” already.  Because he got over his father leaving a year ago.  Because that’s totally the same thing.

Boyfriend of the year right there.  What a sociopath.  Here’s where we get back on board thinking “Yeah maybe it’s Billy... who else could it be?”

The town of Woodsboro is put on a curfew until the police can get to the bottom of things.  But kids will be kids and kids will have parties when parents are away and why are the parents always away?  Randy and Stu (Stu would be Tatum’s goofy boyfriend played by over-the-top Matthew Lillard, and Stu just happens to be Billy’s ride or die) chat about Billy.  Randy thinks Billy’s the killer.  Stu laughs, but defends his buddy.  The signs are starting to point more towards Sid’s dad.  The police haven’t been able to get ahold of him.  And when they checked the phone records for the calls made to Sid, they weren’t coming from Billy’s phone, but rather Sid’s dad’s phone.  Uh oh.  Could it be with the anniversary of mom’s death, dad is finally losing it?  

At Stu’s house, teens are drinking beer and watching scary movies, provided by Randy.  The killer’s there and Tatum meets her end, getting stuck in a doggy door and her neck snapping.  Billy shows up to the house after this happens, again, making us believe he’s the killer.  No one cares about Tatum’s whereabouts I guess, and Sidney slips away with Billy, upstairs.  Two high schoolers headed upstairs into a bedroom, what could possibly happen next?  Downstairs, Randy lists off rules for surviving a horror film.

Number one, never have sex. Number two, never drink or do drugs. Number three, never say “I’ll be right back.”

Remember those rules and you too will be around for the sequel.

This film is full of clever bits.  While everyone is watching Halloween, Randy announces “obligatory tit shot” and just as the actress in Halloween bares her breasts, the shot then turns to Sidney taking off her bra but she gets blocked from view by Billy.  Hah!

Yada yada yada, Sid and Billy break rule number one and Billy is next to be killed.  This is when we believe we were right all along.  It wasn’t Billy after all.  The tricky movie makers tricked us but we secretly knew it wasn’t really him.  Sid escapes out the window after being chased around a bit.  The killer goes downstairs where Randy is now all alone on the couch watching Halloween.  Randy is played by Jamie Kennedy and if you remember, Jamie Lee Curtis is the lead in Halloween.  So Randy’s on the couch shouting “Jamie look behind you” as the killer sneaks up behind him.  Thankfully, Randy is saved by Sidney screaming for help outside and the killer leaves him, for now.

More death happens, yada yada, it gets bloody.  Sid ends up back in the house and Randy and Stu fight over who the killer is.  Stu blames Randy and Randy blames Stu.  We’ve seen Randy and the killer in the same room, but we’ve never seen Stu and the killer in the same room.... hmm.  Something to think about.  But not something Sid has time for, so she closes the door on both of them.  Billy comes stumbling down from upstairs, covered in blood.  Now that Sid is positive Billy isn’t the killer, she’s comfortable with him taking the gun from her, to be the protector now, even if he is half dead.

Billy lets Randy in and ends up shooting him.  Whaaat?  Sidney tries to escape, confused as hell, obviously, and bumps into Stu who came in through the kitchen.  Stu pulls out a voice changer and speaks exactly like the killer and everyone is shocked to discover it was THE TWO OF THEM THIS WHOLE TIME!  They admit to framing Cotton, who’d been having an affair with Sid’s mom.  Apparently Sid’s mom had multiple affairs and was the reason Billy’s dad left.  Dun dun dun.

Stu pulls Sid’s dad out of another room, bound and gagged.  He and Billy plan to stab each other, kill Sid, then shoot Sid’s dad, making it look like Sid’s dad went on a killing spree, and then offed himself.  Billy and Stu would be the only survivors.  How convenient!  

But things don’t work out how they hoped.  Billy ends up getting shot.  Then Randy, who isn’t dead, says “This is when the killer comes back for one final scare” and Billy comes back for one final scare before Sidney puts a bullet in his head.

The way the movie is shot, the clever way it pays homage to other horror classics, makes it so lovable.  It’s really revived the horror genre, or at least the slasher portion.  Many sequels have since been filmed, as well as a television series, and comical spoofs.  It’s definitely a film that I would call a masterpiece of story telling and directing.  Definitely add this one to your Halloween and Chill list for October.  It’s available to rent on Amazon.  Also check with your cable provider, as it was free on demand for me.

RATING: 🎃🎃🎃🎃 4 out of 5 pumpkins

[jlalafics]

Part Three of Everlark Prompt request-”49″

Thank you for your patience. It’s been a hard week for Hubbs and I. We’re both missing Juice fiercely and trying to function for Baby J.

I hope you enjoy this next part. I’m going to try to work on the next part this weekend...but I’m exhausted.

Part One

Part Two

49. Let’s have a baby.

Summary: Best friends Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark are about to embark on the biggest adventure of their lives—parenthood.

_____

Two weeks later…

“So, how are we all doing?” Effie asked as they sat in the examination room.

Their fertility counselor was serious when she told them that she would be with them every step of the way. In fact, as soon as they notified Effie of Katniss’ positive pregnancy test, the Doctor arranged to have Katniss seen by the clinic’s top obstetrician, Dr. Cinna Ward.

“I’m freaking the fuck out!” Katniss burst out in a tight whisper on the examination table. She gripped Peeta by the hand and it pulsed from the lack of blood slowly leaving it.

“I thought this is what you wanted,” Effie reasoned.

“It just happened so fast…” Katniss’ eyes filled with tears. “I just thought we’d have more time.”

“Get used to it.” The woman in front of her pursed her mouth. “That’s what you get for making whoopee.”

“Give her a break,” Peeta said to Effie. “Did we think that we would nail it on the first shot? No! We thought that there were would be a whole bunch of times and ways to try to conceive a child.”

Effie raised a disapproving brow. “Ways?”

“Yeah,” Katniss agreed. “Like the Reverse Cowgirl.”

“Exactly,” Peeta added. “Or The Sultry Saddle. Maybe The Spider?”

“You’re getting lazy,” the mother of his child-to-be responded. “You’re more a Speed Bump kind of guy.”

Peeta winked at her. “You flatter me, sweetheart.”

“I just know you too well,” Katniss replied.

“Am I interrupting?”

They all turned to find a tall dark-skinned man at the exam room doorway. He gave them a perfectly bright smile, highlighting his handsome chiseled features.

“No, Cinna,” Effie said in exasperation, frowning at the duo. “You just have to have your wits about with these two.” She gave the doctor a smile as he entered the room and pulled a rolling stool towards the couple. “Dr. Ward, meet Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark—the banes of my existence as of present.”

The man chuckled, offering a kind smile while shaking Peeta and Katniss by the hand.

“And, what position got you this bundle of joy?” he asked good-naturedly.

“Plain ol’ Missionary,” Katniss informed him. “But, Peeta did this fabulous move where he hooked my thigh over his hip. Really got up in there—”

“And, this girl—” Peeta grinned at the man. “—kisses like a maniac. Tongues like she’s painting a masterpiece…in your mouth.”

“I like you two,” Dr. Ward remarked with a soft chuckle. “And, you two aren’t together?”

“We’re best friends.” Katniss looked to Peeta who pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “We go way beyond that.”

“Always,” Peeta agreed.

“Okay ‘Best Friends’,” Dr. Ward began as he went to the ultrasound machine. “I’m going to need you to keep each other in good spirits while I take this probe—” He reached for a long wand, sheathing it with a protective latex cover. “—to examine Katniss’ cervix and measure the baby.”

Peeta met Katniss’ wide-eyed stare. “Can you handle it?”

She snorted in response. “Doesn’t even compare to Bobby.”

“Who the hell is Bobby?” Peeta asked in mock offense.

“Bernie’s dearly departed older brother,” Katniss informed him smugly. “With Bobby, I couldn’t walk straight for a day.”

Dr. Ward looked to Effie. “Do I want to know?”

Effie shook her head in exasperation. “Definitely not.”

++++++

Peeta placed the ultrasound photo against the computer screen in his office.

The tiny-sized pebble of a baby was smaller than its yolk sac. Yet, it was the most beautiful thing that he had ever seen.

He and Katniss had created this little being together.

Seeing the baby on screen had nearly brought him to his knees and Peeta wanted to shout for joy, hug everyone in the clinic, and kiss Katniss until she couldn’t breathe.

He fucking loved her—and they had complicated things with amazing sex and a beautiful six-week old fetus.

They lived a relatively peaceful co-existence together until now. At present, just seeing Katniss made his heart race and stomach flip in excitement. Then, Peeta would flash back to that Saturday morning; Katniss’ wavy locks spread against her pillow and her rose-colored lips rounded in that perfect O as he came inside her.

There was a sudden knock at the door and Peeta stood up as a blonde woman in a black business suit entered.

She gave him a bright smile. “Peeta Mellark?” The woman held out her hand. “Delly Cartwright.”

“Yes. It’s nice to meet you,” he responded. “Mr. Snow said that you would be looking into how to improve the overall quality of our restaurant.”

Delly giggled. “Yes. My Uncle was very specific in his goals. He wants this to be a three-star Michelin restaurant by next year—no excuses.”

Peeta nodded in agreement. “How about I take you through the restaurant and we’ll go over procedures? Then Thresh, our Head Chef, will serve you a tasting menu.”

The woman turned to him, flashing him a bright smile. “Will you be joining me?”

Usually Katniss would be coming over, but she had planned to tell Johanna the big news. No doubt her friend and former boss would be grilling her over the details.

He turned to Delly.

“Sure, why not?”

++++++

Katniss walked up the stairs towards the Abernathy house. She was already feeling nauseous. Part of it was the baby, the other part was because Johanna and Haymitch would be the first to find out that she was having a baby with Peeta.

As soon as she reached their front step, the door swung open revealing Johanna carrying Ben against her hip.

“Hey guys!” Katniss greeted them brightly.

Johanna tilted her head, examining Katniss for a moment, her brown eyes sharpening as she peered at her friend.

“Oh…my…God!” the woman finally exclaimed. “You’re pregnant!”

Katniss squawked at Johanna’s words. “How the hell did you know?”

“Bad word!” Ben said before burying his face into his Mom’s shoulder.

“Yes, Auntie Katniss needs to put a dollar in the swear jar,” Johanna told her son as he slid down her leg. “Now go and paint one of our walls green or something.”

The little boy went off running down the front hallway, his excited squeal echoing and making both women’s ears sting.

“Get in here!” Johanna tugged at Katniss’ arm, bringing her friend quickly into the living room adjacent to the front door. “Haymitch, a little help here!”

Katniss sat on the sea-blue lounger, rubbing her abdomen anxiously as Johanna sat down on the couch, waiting for her husband to join them.

Haymitch entered in a flurry, paper towels in hand. “Which kid and where’s the barf?”

“None of them,” Johanna responded. “Just this dumb-dumb.”

Haymitch leaned down to give Katniss a kiss on the cheek before sitting next to his wife.

“Katniss is incapable of being a dumb-dumb as you so nicely called her.”

Johanna raised a brow and nodded at Katniss. “Go on. Tell him.”

Taking a deep breath, Katniss looked to the man. “I’m pregnant.”

“You idiot!” Haymitch barked.

“Daddy, swear jar!” came April’s sweet voice from the back of the house.

“I’ll put a dollar in later, sweetheart,” the man responded before looking to Katniss. “And, who is the father?”

“Peeta.”

“Wow…you two are dumber than I thought,” Haymitch declared. “I’m going to that restaurant to flambé his ass.”

“It was my idea,” Katniss burst out. “He’s just the donor.”

“So you didn’t have sex?” Johanna asked. “What a bummer. That’s pretty much the best part.”

“Oh no, we fucked,” Katniss assured her friend.

Johanna leaned forward, an anticipatory gleam in her eyes. “How was it?”

“Amazing,” Katniss responded. “I think I nearly broke his dick with how hard I came…but it gets a little complicated from here.”

“You’re in love with him,” Haymitch declared.

Katniss hung her head. “Yes.”

“And, boom goes the dynamite,” Johanna said slowly. “You two are real morons, you know.” Her eyes filled with tears and she stood suddenly to embrace Katniss. “This is all hormones and, as soon as this child is out of me, I fully intend to mock you.”

Katniss smiled as they pulled apart. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Sitting back down, she looked between the couple. “I need a favor.”

“You need a buffer next week for Thanksgiving,” Haymitch said slowly and she nodded. “We were planning to be there, anyway.”

“I think it’ll be okay,” Katniss assured them, ignoring their skeptical looks. “Our parents will totally understand.”

++++++

“Are you two stupid or something?”

Katniss and Peeta both looked up at Mr. Mellark’s question.

Their arrival at the Everdeen household was a joyful one as the two rarely came home from the city. Sure, their parents were disappointed that they came without dates and Katniss—according to her mother—was too pale and skinny.

“Now, calm down.” Haymitch stood from the adjacent seat, calmly walking to the two sets of parents. He placed a conciliatory pat on Peeta’s father’s shoulder. “Rob, this kind of thing happens.” Then he turned to the Everdeens. “This is your first grandchild. Try to understand.”

“Is this why you didn’t bring dates?” Donna Mellark asked her son. “Have you two finally decided to stop wasting your time and settle down?”

“We’re not together, Mrs. Mellark,” Katniss explained. “Peeta is just…a contributor.”

“So this was done in some sort of clinic?” Her own mother declared, whose blue eyes were wide in horror at the thought.

“Nope. This was done with the help of some liquor,” Peeta explained bluntly.

“Watch your words, young man,” Tom Everdeen intoned, his grey eyes stony. He looked to his daughter. “Is this because of Gale?”

“You’re beating a dead horse, Dad,” Katniss responded. “This has nothing to do with him. I wanted a child and I asked for help. Peeta, who you know and love, decided that he wanted to help me.”

Johanna rose from her seat slowly, one hand supporting her lower back and the other on her even larger stomach.

“Everyone, I know this is a shock—” she started. “—but these two came to you instead of hiding it. That has to give them some sort of brownie points.”

“I guess it could be worse,” Mrs. Everdeen reasoned slowly before looking to Katniss and Peeta. “Would you two even consider getting married?”

They looked to one another before bursting into a fit of laughter.

“We barely had a romantic relationship. Why would we bring marriage into the mix?” Katniss questioned.

“Because that is what people who have children do,” Mrs. Mellark responded. “They get married.”

“Yeah…no,” Peeta replied with an amused smile. “We love and respect one another. Our child will want for nothing. Let’s not complicate things.”

“Here, here,” Haymitch declared. “Now who needs a drink?”

Both sets of parents raised their hands.

++++++

“That wasn’t all that bad,” Peeta assured Katniss as they walked through their neighborhood. His arm went across her shoulders and she pressed to his side. “I mean, after Prim arrived with her new tattoo and a new boyfriend, we were pretty much non-existent.”

“Remind me to thank her,” Katniss replied.

“She’ll be the baby’s godmother—” Peeta declared. “—along with Haymitch and Johanna.”

“Yeah, if we’re suddenly offed,” she added, “they should definitely raise him or her.”

“And, our parents…” Peeta trailed off, lost in the past few hours. “My father said ‘I knew it would happen anyway.’”

Katniss grinned. “Like, he knew you would knock me up?”

“Or that we’d somehow end up being connected in other ways beside friendship,” he supplied before sighing and turning to her. “How are you?”

“My boobs hurt every time I turn in bed, I barf when I brush my teeth, and I’m always so tired,” Katniss said. “But damned if I don’t already love the kid.”

It was at the tip of Peeta’s tongue to ask if she’d consider maybe having something other than friendship. It had nothing to do with their child, but being with her, kissing her, and seeing their little one made him think that there might be hope for something more.

They rounded the corner and nearly collided with a tall, dark-haired man with sharp dark eyes.

“Katniss?”

“Gale,” Katniss greeted slowly, her cheeks coloring. “How are you?”

“Good,” her ex-boyfriend replied. “Just heading out to grab another can of cranberry sauce. How have you been?”

“Wonderful, perfect, fabulous…” It wasn’t lost on Katniss that Peeta had tightened his hold of her. “Peeta and I are just doing our thing—”

“Don’t forget to tell him the good news,” Peeta urged, his blue eyes cool as he looked at the man before him.

Any minute, Katniss was pretty sure the two guys would start grunting at each other like cavemen.

She sighed before giving Gale a small smile. “I’m having a baby.”

“Yup.” Peeta pressed a kiss to her temple. “We’re having a baby.”

“Oh wow…” Gale gave them an uneasy smile. “That’s really great.” He looked to Katniss. “You’re going to make a beautiful mother.” Then his eyes went to Peeta. “Good luck, Peeta.”

“Thanks, but I don’t need it,” Peeta declared. “Happy Thanksgiving, Gale.”

With that, he rushed Katniss across the street.

She chuckled at the possessiveness in Peeta’s usually calm blues.

“For a moment, I thought you were going to pee on me just to mark your territory.”

Peeta raised a brow. “Would you be into that?”

She elbowed him before taking his hand.

“Come along, father of my child. We have a family grilling to get too. Your brothers should have arrived by now.”

“Noooo…” the man whined.

Katniss looked over the pouting man and wide eyes, refraining herself from wanting to press a kiss to that lower lip of his.

God help her if their child was just like his father.

++++++

16 weeks

“Hey, little mother,” Rue greeted Katniss. “You’re looking very fruitful.”

Katniss looked down at her burgeoning stomach and shrugged.

“Seed of your boss,” She responded with a grin. “He or she has an appetite thanks to Peeta.” She looked around the restaurant. “Where is your boss-man, by the way?”

The server rolled her dark eyes. “With Miss Thing, of course. I don’t know what kind of deal you have with Peeta, but you better stake your claim. She is clingy little wench…and surprisingly anal for someone who I’m sure isn’t into it.”

“And, how do you know she’s not into anal?” Katniss asked in amusement.

“She wouldn’t be walking like her ass was plugged if she was,” Rue explained. “You know she wants me to fold every person’s napkin into a swan whenever they go to the restroom? I don’t have time for that nonsense!”

“Have you talked to Peeta about it?” Katniss suggested.

“Whenever I try, Delly is there in his office!” Rue shook her head. “Things need to change.”

“Mind if I step back there to see if I can rescue your boss?”

“Please,” Rue responded. “Rescue him because he is too nice to kick her to the curb.”

Chuckling, Katniss waved at the unhappy woman and headed to the back. After greeting Thresh, who was surprisingly disgruntled, she found herself at the entrance of Peeta’s office.

“So Peeta, do you think that we can cut these hours?”

Peeking in, Katniss could see Delly looking at the computer screen over Peeta’s shoulder, just almost pressing her breasts to his back.

Rolling her eyes at the overt display, she knocked against the doorway. “Hi there!”

Peeta’s expression brightened and he shot up from his chair.

“Katniss! Is it noon already?” Avoiding Delly, he rounded his desk and rushed over to her. His hand went to the belly affectionately. “How are you feeling?”

“The usual,” Katniss responded with a bright smile. Delly stood, arms crossed indignantly at having lost Peeta’s attention.

Was it normal to be filled with glee at seeing the woman discontented?

“Katniss, you look wonderful,” the woman remarked. “Filling out seems to have worked in your favor.”

Yes, it was perfectly normal to want to see this bitch unhappy.

“Thanks Delly,” Katniss responded easily as her hands went to her full breasts. “I mean, the breasts look great, right?” Looking to Peeta, she winked. “What do you think? I mean…at least they’re real.”

Turning, Katniss’ eyes went pointedly to woman’s perfectly sculptured chest.

“Why don’t I take you and your ample chest for some air?” Peeta suggested.

Putting an arm around her, her friend led her out the door and away from a fuming Delly.

++++++

“Dude, that is like totally inappropriate work behavior.”

Peeta sighed. “I know.”

They sat at a quaint French café, a few blocks away from the restaurant. His gaze went to Katniss, eyes closed as she soaked in the sun. Her bump only slightly prominent making her newly grown breasts the main star.

And, he appreciated the hell out of them.

“Rue is unhappy, too,” Katniss continued. She straightened in her chair and looked to him. “You’re responsible for all of them. Letting Delly implicate all these rules and standards is not good for morale.”

“She’s always around,” he informed her. “Always over my shoulder.”

“And, are you so inept that you don’t understand that she wants a little Mellark up in there?” Katniss raised a brow. “Not that I blame her. You’re a great piece of ass.”

Peeta reached for her hand, pressing his lips to her knuckles. “I’m flattered.”

“But, I’ve been super horny,” she continued. “And, I’m afraid to let Bernie visit so I have to do everything manually. So maybe you’re not as great as I think.”

“Now that hurts!” He gave her a plaintive look. “At least let a guy prove himself.”

Katniss quirked a brow. “Are you serious?”

His blue eyes were penetrating. “If I was?”

“Are you that hard up?” she questioned.

“If you think that Delly wants me, then I’m not that hard up,” he retorted simply. “As you said, she is more than willing.”

Katniss went silent for a moment.

After a moment, she responded.

“I’ll give you an answer by this weekend.”

++++++

“I need both of your opinions.”

Johanna and Haymitch sat across from her on the couch with Amy in-between. The girl sucked her thumb, staring sullenly at her Aunt Katniss.

Johanna had some strong genes as her youngest girl inherited her glare.

“Peeta and I had lunch today and I mentioned my recent…urges,” Katniss related.

Haymitch peered at her. “Urges?”

“You know…the ones that happen around this point in the pregnancy,” Johanna told her husband. “The ones that got me—” She pointed at her stomach. “And—“ Her stare went to the cranky girl in-between them.

The man’s eyes widened in understanding. “Oh yeah!” He turned back to Katniss. “Continue your story.”

She blushed “Well, he suggested that maybe…he help me with these…urges.”

Johanna placed her daughter in her, cradling the little girl. “So what do you need from us?”

“I need to know if it’s okay for me to accept.”

“So you want permission for us to have sex with Peeta?” Haymitch stated.

Katniss nodded. “Basically.”

Haymitch shook his head. “No.”

“Really?” Katniss implored. “I mean we’re both grown-ups. We have a child on the way…it could be nice.”

“You’re in love with him,” Haymitch responded evenly. “This might make it a lot harder on you.”

“But she’s really—” Johanna look down at the little girl in her arms. “H-O-R-N-Y.”

“I still say no,” the man declared. His eyes went to Katniss’ fiery greys. “But by the hungry look in Katniss’ eyes, she ain’t going to listen to a damn word I say.”

++++++

“Here we have the head,” the technician said as she moved the probe along Katniss’ stomach. “Everything looks tip-top in terms of development. I’m going to do a quick head measurement…”

Katniss turned to Peeta. “How are you feeling about all this?”

His eyes went to the baby on the screen above them. “It’s feeling very real. He or she is moving…has two well-formed hands and an adorable profile.”

“You didn’t have to be here,” she told her friend. “I know you’re busy at the restaurant.”

“I’m never too busy for this,” Peeta replied simply before taking her hand. She glowed at his words and he felt his own heart swell at her radiance. He pressed a kiss to her knuckles and Katniss sighed at the motion. “Listen, I think we should talk about us.”

Katniss looked to him, her grey eyes anxious. “What about us?”

“Everything is looking beautiful,” the ultrasound technician interrupted. “Did you want to know the sex of the baby?”

“I want to know,” Katniss replied. Her gaze went to Peeta. “Are you okay with that?”

He grinned. “Yes!”

The technician angled the camera probe for the perfect shot. Looking at the screen, they found themselves looking at the telltale V of the upward angle in-between their baby’s thighs.

Katniss gasped, her eyes filling with tears. “We’re having a girl.”

++++++

They were having a little girl.

The technician confirmed it before complementing Katniss on her astute eye.

Their mothers would be thrilled. So was he.

However, seeing their daughter on-screen made it all the more real. She would arrive in four months yet he and Katniss could never sit down to have real discussion.

Peeta wanted more.

Yes—there were times when he thought that she might feel the same way. It stopped being about the sex or the flirting long ago for him. Usually Peeta would go to his best friend for advice.

But what if the best friend was the one you needed advice about?

“Peeta?”

He looked to see Delly entering his office. It irritated him that she never bothered to knock anymore, having developed a “What Mine is Yours” attitude about the restaurant and the office. However, she was the boss’ niece and he needed the money with their daughter on the way.

Daughter.

“What can I help you with?” he asked congenially.

“Just went over the scheduling for the staff and posted it outside,” she informed him cheerfully as she sat in the chair in front of him. “I think that it’s much more organized.”

“Thanks,” he murmured. Peeta met her eyes. “By the way, the management of the front of house should be taken up with me. Some of my staff is unhappy with the changes.”

“That is why we have hiring companies,” Delly replied. “Your staff can be turned over.”

“We have regulars who love our staff,” Peeta argued. “I won’t have them inconvenienced by having to train a bunch of new hires.”

“Alright.” The woman crossed her legs, giving him an unaffected smile. “Would you care for a drink?”

“I’m not drinking,” he told her as his eyes went back to the graduation photo of himself and Katniss. “I promised Katniss since she had to stop. I have to show support for mother of my child.”

Delly leaned forward in interest. “Out of curiosity, have you two discussed what you want?”

Peeta shook his head. “We plan to.”

“When?”

“It’s difficult with both of our jobs and her being exhausted all the time.”

“I’m just going to put it out there,” Delly began. “It doesn’t seem like you’re ever going to talk about it. You keep on making excuses and that kid will be here in a few months. What happens if you get a job somewhere else? Or she does? What happens if she starts dating someone else? Or you do?”

“Katniss is not interested in dating anyone,” he told her tersely. “And as for me, I don’t think anyone could possibly see me in that way.”

“I do.” Delly looked at him imploringly. “I, for one, am not afraid to admit that I like you. What about Katniss? Will she say the same?”

He stared at her for a moment. Peeta had no idea that she even felt that strongly about him.

Of course, Katniss had brought it up but he thought that she was just fucking with him.

“I can’t answer for Katniss,” he finally responded

Delly smirked at him. “Can you answer for yourself?”

_____

That Delly is going to be a real problem.

Also, we haven’t seen the last of Gale.

The answer to whether or not, they give in to their urges in the next part. 

Thanks for reading!

[talesofealdancynedom]

Dragon King on his kingdom’s tallest mountain, with his Queen Quellelthan; both in beast form. Note the shadow veil side of the Dragon Gate, at the peak.

Tale 17: Calliope Cwenfyre, Amadeus and Andromada Rosethorn (chapter 5 - No Debt Owed 5/5) part 3. Stories of True Love

none

After a long international apprenticeship trip, Calliope, Andromeda and Amadeus, were happy to be back in their little home town. Amadeus dropped off Calliope personally, and gave his mage journal to Morgan. Morgan translated and archived everyone’s mage journals, if they couldn’t do it themselves, and posted them in an online database. Amadeus’s journals were a treat for everyone, because of the tapestry mixed media style of his illustrations. He was a fan of gold leaf and intricate details. He made those dragons, and Andromeda and Calliope, look like depictions of in ancient manuscripts. The nice ones.

“Quite the adventure you all had,” Morgan said, looking at each page as he scanned them into his computer. In the background, Calliope was telling her mother about their quest. Her mother Emilia, was now having regrets about asking how her daughter’s trip went; Calliope dumped so much information about the dragons and Andromeda, Emilia zoned out a few times. She was used to it from Morgan, but there is only so much lore a non-seer can take in. Emilia did like the part about the antique rooster Amadeus got in daze. Calliope then started showing off The Cup of Gales, as no study trip would be complete without her coming home with a new beverage container. Emilia, was relieved for once; it actually was a genuinely cool mythical vessel.

Amadeus watched Calliope provide story time for her mother, little brother and sister. Meanwhile, Morgan continued performing his favourite task; reading other people’s magic diaries, for historical and magical tidbits.

“Ah, yes. If Emilia is actually taking interest is any indicator; the trip was indeed, an experience…. In the end, me and my big girl brought Calli back safe and sound; as I promised.” Amadeus said.

“What promise?” Morgan asked. He had started working on the computer, but still mostly paying attention. Digitizing records was second nature after so many years. Morgan’s tone of voice was surprisingly casual, instead of inquisitive. Amadeus became incredibly confused.

“The one I made years ago? To protect you, and all our families, as a paladin? Remember? When I got enfayed and we became friends…”

“Wait…You don’t need an oath to do that Amadeus.” Morgan said. He stopped working and looked at Amadeus in bewilderment. “Enfeyment pacts are important, but I don’t think you agreed just to be a Warg; And I certainly didn’t ask or expect anything of you. If your protector mentality was souly out of obligation, you wouldn’t have worked so hard in spite of it; nor agreed to quickly.”

“It was a stressful situation. The Wolf King gave me a gift out of nowhere; and the second Wolf King again. Both times with the intention to help me uphold my oath to the people I care about….”

“Your personal oath. Which is why you’ve been doing a great job protecting everyone. Warg or not, it wouldn’t have made a difference. I think you’re just a really talented mage paladin, and a motivated caring person. But I’m glad you kept my girl out of trouble. She’s a bit like me…” Morgan laughed. “I can tell that’s why she’s your favourite out of my four children. Which is bad, because favouritism causes unfair bias.”

“Well, you may want to hold your tongue a second; in regards to ‘kept her out of trouble’. Calliope may have… May have lit the camp on fire from going dark, due to sleep deprivation, trouble working, and me setting her up with Andromeda. I got carried away. It almost cost the mission and that offensively quant tourist town.”

“Oh no… That’s not like you at all.” Morgan said. completely forgetting about the fire. “Is that why you have that kitchen rooster? If you need to talk….” He comforted.

“The thing is, you see, my daughter is my apprentice, so when I took the quest to care for Calliope, Andromeda came with me. I thought they would be happy to go as friends. Then I saw my girl light up, when she saw Calli was going to be on the team. Apparently, they’ve been crushing on each other since school. It was so sweet, I thought I’d help them along a little…” Amadeus confessed.

“That’s so cute! I guess Calliope really is bad at saying things. Like me. Emilia is the one who had to say ‘I love you’ first; because I was frozen every time I was in her presence. Calli comes by it honestly.” Morgan said. “Wait… You fixed the fire right?” Morgan said clicking the post button on the database. He was multitasking the whole conversation. Then Morgan then turned to Calliope;

“Amadeus says you and Ann are an item; That’s so cute sweety! I’m so proud of you for finding a true love! I hope you get a happily ever after together forever! Marrying your parent’s best friend’s child is like a time-honored tradition!” Morgan yelled across the room. Calliope stopped dead and blushed; she had forgotten if she was out of the closet or not. Morgan and Amadeus giggled from warm fuzzies; Like they were young boys again. Once again, even in endearment, Emilias palm slowly met her face.

“As you say, Calliope really is the most like me isn’t she. Not that each of the kids didn’t inherit something unfortunate from my side. Cadence is also a feinter, and Patrick is a Sisyphean task to slow down. I bet it was Callie’s looks, and career goals, that led you to give her special treatment. Even though my little boy adores you more?” Morgan chirped. Amadeus gave a nervous smile. Morgan’s innate intelligence was near omniscience. If anyone asked, it was because he was well read.

A week later, Amadeus was seeing off his daughter, by fixing the wrinkles in her shirt. She had a date tonight.

“Calliope had asked nicely for a recommendation from Professor Hara Fyrastan, to be a head seer of fey studies in the capital.” Amadeus said. Andromeda drooped a bit. “Don’t worry I put a recommendation for you to Melida Daigendun, so you can go with her.  Though, I suspect home will call you both to your father’s posts. You’re still the only heir to Rosethorn manor, and Calliope loves Tiberius Gate too much to leave forever. We might also hold it against you if you never call or visit your famlies.” Amadeus said with cheer. “That aside, I know you will take good care of her for us.” Amadeus smiled. Andromeda felt mildly insulted; it felt like he was projecting his duty onto her. She gave him a look that could kill.

“Have you let go of your ‘sworn oath’ complex yet? Or am I to inherit that too? Based on your story about how you met Morgan, I’m guessing you keep following Calli because she’s not much different from him. That’s why you keep signing up to be a paladin whenever Morgan or his kids have an adventure.” Andromeda snapped.

“Or maybe I grew up since I was fourteen, and now I just care that everyone’s happy and safe. I would also like to inform you; the latter is actually what we call my job.  Just like tending Rosethorn Manor” Amadeus laughed. “Maybe my oath complex includes everybody now; and is out of love instead of obligation. Oh my, I didn’t even notice…. I think I may genuinely want to protect people on their magical adventures, and my dream was to be a paladin this whole time.” Amadeus joked. Andromeda didn’t appreciate the sarcasm. She smiled to humor him.

“Calliope is going to take me to all sorts of lands, and we’re going to find all sorts of cups. Don’t worry dad, I won’t let anything happen to her. And I’ll be fine too. Also, my oath, will not be fulfilled until me and Calli have tried every bath bomb Aunt Reggie sent us… for some reason….” Andromeda said. “Also, thank you father. For forwarding my post, so I can be with her. That means a lot.”

“Don’t forget you two will come back here. Whether it’s for a wedding, or because you love this place, and miss us.”

“Only if she decides to come back with me. Because the place I love is right next to her. No offense; I love you and mom too…” Andromeda smiled. Calliope had just arrived at the doorway, looking over dressed, with tears in her eyes. She hugged Andromeda.

“I love you too. So many cups. So many Adventures. He’s right; we will have to crawl back eventually…we have property to inherit, and need somewhere to rest and tell our tales.” Calliope cried into Andromeda’s shirt. Crinkling all the smoothing Amadeus had done. Andromeda hugged back, and led Calliope off, arms locked. But she couldn’t wait for all of those things to happen. Amadeus couldn’t wait to hear about it when they come home safe and sound.

Then everyone remembered this was just a date, to visit the Dragon King and finish a research paper. Calliope had a magic string that allows mages to take common folk safely into the shadow veil; which Aunt Reggie had made years ago. Though Calli wanted to go alone, Andromeda insisted she meet the mighty force of magic that named her girlfriend. The Dragon King might also have tips on where to find more inanimate chickens she could send her father while she was away.

TABLE OF CONTENTS--->

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[holydanced]

     *      —     so this did NOT take long at all  ,  wow  ….. but anyways  ,  hello m’loves im alex  &  i’m on my current bullshit of prolonged - everything and wack intros  !!  i’m 21  ,  my pronouns r she / her  ,  from the incredible tz that is gmt and but have zero  (  0  ) concept of time clearly   &  i like watching tasty vids knowing damn well i’m never making a single dish and other stuff it’s 2 late for me 2 rmbr and list but welcome to my step daughter  ,  shmoke itch queue !! under the read more is 1 / 2 of the intro posts i plan on posting this week with a good batch of my shunts  .  can’t wait 2 get back to ya’ll on plots and connections and hmu if a muse peeks ur unfortunate interest !!

*   SOUTHERN HELL   /   AMANDA WHEELER  :   queen of irony. rich faux post-country gal. a loud homosexual who writes hetero fics/has an indie het smut for the absolute shits and giggles. madly in love with her girlfriend and WILL remind you just in case you forgot. said to be possessed by a possessed flapper. cute and knows it even though she looks like a republican. socially open & everywhere. morally grey.

*   VEGAN OVERLORD   /   IMOGEN YATES  :   the grey area between your mom friend and your drunk aunt. happily vegan & owns a vegan restaurant called the fork, alt. the local vegan cult’s lair. won’t kill you, but will convince you she really wants to. local brat tamer. minds her business via minding others. clashed head-first into nature’s very own reset button: amnesia. used to be the devil herself and traumatized everyone she once knew. disgustingly active and accomplishing. 

*   WALMART AVRIL LAVIGNE   /   PRUDENCE ZIMA  :   parents died in a fire when she was a youngin and it shows. idolizes avril lavigne & her favorite movie is lords of dogtown for aesthetics references. dude. social leech or effortless networker ? both. remains in her lane regardless. cries over dick biweekly. here for a good time, not a long time. steals your stash and smokes you out with it. avid dick connoisseur. loves her pet python to death. minimum effort lifestyle. either on her way to become a manager of some one hit wonder band that finds it’s demise in a crashing plane, a drug dealer or god forbid, a guidance counselor. mild gone girl type cool girl syndrome. 

*   SATAN  ,  BUT IN FRENCH   /   ABEL GAUTIER  :   french and “confused”. lives a minimalist n’ expensive lifestyle. if american psycho & french kiss were the same movie. wine sniffer. the devil bakes croissants. will watch you die. takes grudges to the afterlife. gets attached but either ruins it or ruins it to spare everyone, himself included. falls in love a lot but knows how to calm the fuck down. well-suppressed murderous tendencies. very giving, fortunately. manipulative but isn’t too wild about bending everything to his will. 

*   ROSES IN THE TRASH DOT PNG   /   SIMINI GALE  :   [ britney vc ] its me…. against dissociation. token white actress & character in rosie’s show. a loud mess with an intense mental state and anger issues dulled out by her prescribed meds and whatever pill she got in the bottom of her manager’s purse. overly dependent and is distraught about it. grocery shopping for garbage food and attending comedy stand ups half drunk as a hobby. stable ? don’t know her. very nice and super flighty. heels are hot. wishes she could fight someone without feeling the urge to actually fight someone. crying probably.

*   HAPPY MACHINE BROKE   /   CALVIN O’SHEA  :   it’s not just the depression more than the incredible self hatred. walks into rooms with his bad energy  &  cunty attitude. graduated college just to shut his dad up. wants to die harder than edward cullen. just doesn’t give a shit. has a baby named FREDDIE MERCURY JOHN LENNON BAUMANN ( also known as the antichrist, with alanis, his mortal literal enemy whom he absolutely despises and will NOT hesitate to put his dick back in again ) . wishes he could die.

*   DIVORCED DADS ARE HOT   /   KELLY SCOTT  :   a father who tries™. runs a chop shop because bad decisions and dire needs ( had his son to send to school and his daughter who passed away due to a condition he couldn’t afford to treat even after turning his mechanic shop into a chop shop. his wife then left him ) .stares into the distance. needs to pull out of this dull n’ depressing daily routine he has fallen into like the basic ass divorced dad he is.

*   SLAVGOTH    /   SEBASTIAN MILLER  :   kazimer sokolov whom. russian ex-cult member well-adjusted into a mundane life via lies, a fake canadian accent he’s ‘trying to get rid of’ and being a twilight saga aficionado & a certified dick. runs his lame record store and a tumblr blog to keep himself sane by maintaining a general aesthetic & shitting on people and every discourse out there. knives/books sniffer. allegedly fucked a moose. probably kinkshames as a way to deal with his own “kinks”. you thought it’s one fake bitch in this house but it’s quite literally two.

*   UNCLE SAL WITH THE FACTS    /   SALVATORE PRESLEY  :   a hitman who doesn’t know how to retire. talks. a great father and boyfriend in a long, long, long term relationship. gets shit done which is both a good thing and a bad thing. don’t call him salvatore, don’t call him anything. knows how to mix drinks and other things. obsessive; gets into his job a little too intensely and it shows. loses sleep at least two nights a week as a habit at this point. family-oriented; has an extended family back home he misses occasionally. wishes he could calm down truly.

*   UH HUH ,  THIS MY SHIT ! ALL THE GOTHS STOMP YOUR FEET LIKE THIS !  /   FRED MARLON  :   not-so-local - perky goth -  skater boi. bisexuals wear multiple rings. was a cheerleader and won’t stop spelling shit & chanting since then. advocates for getting your guts stirred safe sex. lucid dreams. criminology major but associates with film majors for some reason. was the employee of the month everywhere he worked. remembers his time in bed, bath and beyond fondly. went to psycho camp when he was twelve. a motherfucking sweedie. actual foot fetish apologist.

*   [ POINTS AT EMPTY CORNER ] AND HERE’S MY GREAT GRANDFATHER, ARMITAGE   /   MARSHA HUNT  :   obsessing over the victorian (gothic) era & death. obsessive, period. interesting family lineage. believes the manor she inherited is haunted (mainly because deaths happened there and up until a certain period in its history, they had their own graveyard within the estate). believes a lot of things that don’t make sense but bear with her. crackhead tendencies. talking is a full body experience. demands your full attention or none of it. allergic to but likes flowers. witchcraft? she’s listening. romantic in the worst way. will teach you how to dance. not entirely here at all. writer_in_the_dark.mp3. heightened senses. rich and doesn’t know what to do with the money. doesn’t trust first impressions. the drunk aunt and the weird cousin. 

*   ( PRETTY ) DAFT BOY  /   JACK LOWELL  :  jackary. handsome_the_vaccines.mp3. vaguely ‘poetic’ instagram captions & private social media accounts made for his mental breakdowns. currently on a “break” from college. lashes out over air. a current equipment bitch to the band he got kicked out of. manipulative and morally on the fence of neutral and his father’s son. isn’t sure if he enabled his sister’s murderous nature on purpose or not. will crash at your place and finish your cereal but still make you breakfast and a cool tune in the morning like the soft, self-absorbed cunt he is. self destructs over one ( 1 ) girl and hangs out with many.

*   THE REASON WHY YOUR CAR RIDES GO THE FUCK OFF  /   NAZARETH NIEVES  :  pouty lesbian. music producer tormenting her record label by being a brat. chronically bored and disgusted. pulls a rihanna and makes close friends off the industry. will bite heads off. selectively decent. is unable to enjoy music from the same genre she produces for. power bottom. brutally killed her dead best friend’s father, hid his body and picked up his youngest daughter from school and took her in her family home; the line of murders in their unsuspecting city ceased conveniently. likes the smell of nail polish.

[nao-hime]

Do You Remember || Makoto Naegi x Reader

I know it’s been a long time since I updated! I’ve been incredibly busy, but since I had time today, I decided to work on another chapter.

To explain the plot (like always): Makoto and the reader have been dating for a while now, but the reader is caught in a horrible car accident and ends up in a coma. This is just him visiting her every single day and remembering their times together, hoping that by reminding her, she’ll wake up.

I hope you guys enjoy this!

   You hate the cold, especially when it rains. When it rains, it pours, and when it’s combined with the wind, you better hope you have a coat.

The torrent of rain leaves a crisp scent on the breeze, masking the pollution that taints the air. Freezing fingers rake down your back as the downpour cascades in endless icy sheets. The sun sequesters its warmth from behind a dense layer of dull gray clouds, forcing you to rely on your coat for precious heat. The frigid wind croons its shrill song as its gales slice at your exposed face, whipping your hair into disarray. Your frozen hands are unable to tie my hair back, your fingers stiff with cold.

Your feet slosh through the silver puddles that continue to expand as the deluge poured from the heavens. As you breathe the invigorating air, your breaths come out as puffy white vapors that spiral into the air before dissipating into nothing. It’s days like this that remind you how ruthless the weather can be.

The streets are practically vacant, aside from the young woman wandering aimlessly, and the occasional stray that darts for shelter. A lone car flashes its headlights as bright as a wolf's piercing, hungry eyes as it drives prudently through the deserted boulevard. It sweeps around the corner abruptly, spraying water all over sidewalk. You jump out of the way just in time to avoid being drenched by the glacial water.

You stop at the corner of an intersection. Even through the wall of gushing water, you manage to check both ways before crossing. You see nothing that could endanger you, so you begin trudging across the street, careful not to slip in any puddles.

The road was clear. You know it was. And yet it happened. How are you supposed to know someone was tearing through the streets, not even in the right state of mind?

Without any warning, the car slams into you at full-force.

You don’t feel the agony until you crash to the ground, dull thuds stippling over your body and contorting your neck into an unnatural angle with a sickening crack. A potent surge of pain travels up your back while at the same time scattering down your arms and legs. A frightened scream pierces the air. The car comes to a screechy stop, its headlights blinding you, but you have no control over your eyes, which stare lifelessly at the blood-stained concrete ground.

You’ve always wanted to fly. But never like this.

   A certain brown-haired male heaved a sigh as he stood outside the door of your room. His feet shuffled anxiously, his hands tightened their grip around the bouquet of flowers, while he constantly blew at the stray hair that just wouldn’t move. Though he had done this many times before, he could never seem to go in right away.

It was because of the fear that you would not be there.

He placed one trembling hand on the door handle and twisted, taking a deep breath before pushing it open. His hazel eyes scanned the room, searching for any distinct differences—specifically a lack of your presence. Thankfully, there you were, laying speechlessly in bed with your eyes closed.

The light that filtered through the window bathed your face with an ethereal glow. Your hair pooled around you like a halo. To him, you appeared as an angel. A silent angel.

Two months had passed since the incident. The incident where you had been hit by a car and induced into a coma. The only indication of your life was the slow rise and fall of your chest, and the steady beep of the monitor next to you. The doctors had said it was unlikely you would wake up, but he refused to believe that. He had hope that you would wake up, and the two of you would be reunited. After all, he had plans. Great plans, and he wanted to go through with them.

Makoto Naegi seated himself in his usual chair beside your bed, placing the flowers on the table. He stared at you, taking in your beauty. You were stunning, even when you weren’t awake. Although others might find this tedious, Makoto thought that watching you was absolutely fascinating. Time passed, but what made it go faster was when he spoke to you.

“(Y/n), do you remember when we first met?” inquired Makoto thoughtfully, tilting his head slightly. He dropped his hand over yours, careful not to fumble with the IV. Bad luck tended to follow him, and that had seeped into you a few times in your relationship. And yet you never blamed him for it. “I remember…you were Komaru’s friend, visiting from school. She was so excited to introduce you to the family because we kept teasing her, telling her that you were just her imaginary friend. None of us were surprised when you showed up in the flesh. But…” Makoto felt the heat rise to his cheeks, tinting them a light pink. “I remember how I tripped, and we both fell to the ground. Komaru accused me of trying to grope you, and Mom and Dad were horrified because I broke your arm. But you forgave me.” Makoto sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. He still blushed whenever he thought of that utterly embarrassing event; he claimed it was bad luck, but you said it was good luck.

“It brought us together, didn’t it?” you would always remind him, flashing your signature smile. Makoto was always amazed when he saw you smile. Whether you wore cosmetics or not, Makoto thought you were always breathtaking.

But you were right. Had Makoto not fallen on top of you, his entire family wouldn’t have forced him to visit you in the hospital to formally apologize. He would’ve done it anyway, but it was because he had fallen on you that he visited you.

You liked to make the joke that he “fell in love with you”. Though it was true, Makoto did not really like being teased, especially about that certain event. And yet you were unashamed to tell anyone who asked how you had met.

Anyway, because Makoto had visited you once, he was instantly intrigued by you. You were so forgiving and kind and overall very pleasant to be around. Makoto was partly pleased and sad to hear that you had your own stroke of bad luck; even before Makoto had met you, you were in the hospital a lot due to your clumsiness. So you were used to it, as you claimed.

Double the bad luck did not help your case.

As much as Makoto yearned to ask you out, he knew that not only would his parents be infuriated, Komaru would probably be upset if he tried to “take you away”. He could definitely see why Komaru was so attached to you; there was not another person like you. And though Makoto wanted nothing more than to ask you out on a date, he respected your friendship with Komaru too much.

Apparently, though, his feelings towards you were evident, because Komaru intentionally set you both up on a date. She had told you both that she had the “perfect person” in mind, and gave you directions to a restaurant. Needless to say, you both were very surprised upon seeing each other.

However, Makoto had never been more grateful for his sister’s intervention. Usually, she embarrassed him in front of his crushes. But now, she seemed serious about hooking him up. Part of Makoto believed that it was because she wanted you to be her sister-in-law.

Which was originally going to be the case.

Makoto slipped his hand into his pocket and withdrew a small, velvet black box. He couldn’t bear to pop it open. A dejected sigh passed his lips.

Just my luck…

The two of you had been dating for over a year. He had been waiting to ask you out once you were in college, so that a) he wouldn’t go to jail and b) so that his family wouldn’t kill him. But then Komaru decided to set you up. Now that you were in college, Makoto had graduated (because he was four years older than you), and was living on his own. Still, the two of you would visit each other, though it was mostly Makoto visiting you because you didn’t want to travel too far from campus.

Now that you were a sophomore in college, Makoto felt ready to ask you “the big question”. He had been planning on asking you to marry him. There was nothing that he wanted more than to be with you for the rest of his life.

…but now that you were in a coma, that kind of put a damper on things.

But Makoto had complete faith that you would wake up. You had to wake up! Otherwise…what else would he do?

Unable to bear the sight of his broken plans, Makoto dropped the box back into his pocket and proceeded to talk to you.

   Sometimes, Makoto visited you alone, because there were memories that only he could share with you. Other times, he came with someone else. Namely his sister, Komaru.

The news had hit Komaru really hard. But Komaru was tough; she recovered quickly. Komaru visited you the most out of anyone; with the exception of Makoto, of course. The only reason Komaru was unable to visit you as much as Makoto was because she was still busy with college. So she made Makoto promise to say ‘hi’ to you for her every single day.

Makoto’s parents visited too, but once every month. They never said it, but Makoto could tell they didn’t think you would recover. The only reason they even came was to make Makoto think that they had faith. Really, they wanted him to move on. To find someone else rather than “wasting his time waiting on you”. Although Makoto knew they were only thinking of him, whenever he thought about how they thought you were a lost cause, anger bubbled underneath the surface of his skin.

Some of his friends would accompany him. None of them had known you personally, but they knew how important you were to him, and they wanted to offer their support. All of them were mixed with their beliefs; some thought you still had a chance, while others disagreed, saying there was no way in hell you would come back. In the end, they all agreed to just stop visiting, otherwise they risked exploding into another dispute. And the last thing Makoto wanted to hear was despair coming from his own friends.

A big surprise Makoto received was when the driver who hit you visited. At first, Makoto was utterly enraged that he had the audacity to visit you when he was the cause of your state, but then he learned that it was a complete accident; it was raining heavily after all, so it was difficult to see, and the roads were slippery. The man also displayed signs of great sorrow for what he had done.

He wanted a moment alone with you, but Makoto was reluctant to allow that to happen. Makoto rarely ever left your side, even when the nurses came in. So he was unaccustomed to leaving you alone—especially in the presence of strangers. Eventually, the two came to an agreement that Makoto would remain in the room while the driver said what he wanted to say. After that, he never visited, and Makoto did not hear from him again.

One day, when visiting you, Makoto thought it was strange that he never saw your family’s name signed on the visitor’s sheet. You never talked much about your family, and since you were not keen on doing so, Makoto decided not to pry. But now he was definitely curious as to why your family was never here.

“Hey, Komaru,” he said, earning a hum in reply. “Do you know why (Y/n)’s family is never here? I don’t think I’ve seen their name listed on the visitor’s sheet.” Makoto was careful with how he phrased it; Komaru was not one to spread secrets, and if it was about you, then not even God Himself could elicit a response from her.

Komaru raised an eyebrow in his direction. “Why do you want to know?”

“I just think it’s peculiar…Surely they want to visit their daughter?” Makoto’s heart pounded as he waited for Komaru to speak up. There was a part in him that dreaded the worst and that already anticipated Komaru’s answer. Was (Y/n)’s family out of town? Had they disowned her? Were they dead? His mind went in so many different directions with each explanation being crazier than the last.

“Well…It’s not really my place to tell you. But I suppose that you ought to know,” Komaru conceded. Makoto struggled to keep the smile from rising to his face. After all, he didn’t want Komaru to back out just upon seeing how happy he was. “(Y/n)-chan is an orphan. She never met her dad because her mother had her through in vitro fertilization, and her mother died when we were in middle school. Ever since then, (Y/n)-chan has worked really hard in order to sustain herself.”

Makoto froze. You were an orphan? How come you had never told him? His eyes fell down to your still form. Betrayal stung his chest. Makoto had believed that you would go to him with her troubles, but he supposed not.

It was as if Komaru could read his thoughts, because she continued, “(Y/n)-chan never told you because she was afraid…afraid that you would reject her or something.”

“What?” spluttered Makoto, his head instantly raising. “Th-That’s ridiculous! Why would she be afraid of that?”

Komaru shrugged. “I don’t know. But if you ask me, I think it’s because she was a little insecure about how well-off we are, while she’s barely surviving on her own. Maybe she thought you wouldn’t want her if you knew her situation.” Her eyes were glazed over with sorrow and guilt, almost as if she had put (Y/n) in this condition.

Though Makoto’s worry was tempered, now it was replaced with a new fear. A fear that you were not happy. That you was not…(Y/n). That the (Y/n) he had met was just a facade. What if the (Y/n) he had fallen in love with was fake? You were always so happy and optimistic…but that was a mask to hide her private despair. Worst of all, you never confided your troubles to Makoto, your boyfriend.

I promise, (Y/n), Makoto thought to himself, pursing his lips. When you wake up, I’ll make sure I’ll be your pillar. I’ll make sure you can come to me with your troubles, and I’ll go to you with mine.

   People thought Makoto Naegi was insane, because he kept visiting you even after six months since the start of your comatose state. But that did not stop Makoto.

When he visited you, he always started by bringing a gift. Most of the presents piled up in the corner of the room were from him; they were all something of your times together. He hoped that by constantly reminding you of your memories, it might trigger something, and you would wake up.

It was a long shot, but it was worth trying if it meant you would return.

The first gift was a cast that he bought. The nurses thought it was either a horrible joke or a terrible present, but to him, it was the beginning of your relationship. It represented how he had inadvertently broken your arm and resulted in your placement in the hospital. The only people who would understand it were his family and yourself—Komaru actually chuckled weakly when she saw it. She understood it immediately.

The second gift was a copy of your favorite book paired with a tissue (a new tissue, mind you). A few months after meeting you, Makoto would only see you when you visited the same time he did. Because he was in college while you and Komaru were in high school, it was rare that he ever saw you. Maybe once every blue moon. All joking aside, the first time Makoto saw you after visiting you in the hospital, he ended up ruining your favorite book.

It had been raining horribly one day while you and Komaru were still at school. Since Makoto’s parents didn’t want to drive in such horrid weather, they sent Makoto to go retrieve Komaru—with nothing but a coat and umbrella to protect him. Still, Makoto knew he would rather walk home with Komaru knowing that she was safe. (“What a good older brother!” you would always tell him.)

Makoto could barely see anything through the wall of water that assaulted the earth. So he was careful with every step he took.

Well, every step except for one. He hadn’t seen your growing silhouette until it was almost too late. You barreled into each other, both colliding to the wet ground. Makoto shivered the icy cold water drenched his clothes, glueing it to his skin. Though he was wracked with freezing trembles, he was too concerned for the person he had knocked to the ground to think about himself.

“A-Are you okay?!” cried Makoto, hurrying to stand up and kneel by their side. Their umbrellas had been caught in the wind and was nowhere in sight; so Makoto removed his coat and offered it to the smaller figure. “I’m really sorry; I didn’t mean to walk into you!” Makoto was frantic. He needed to walk this person home, but he also need to pick up Komaru, and he didn’t have an umbrella, and his whole world was falling apart—

“Naegi-kun?”

Makoto blinked a few times in surprise. He recognized that voice. But he couldn’t seem to put his finger on it until…

“(L/n)-san!” Now he felt really guilty that it was you of all people he had ran into. After all, he had already knocked you to the ground once; why did he have to do it again? “I-I’m so sorry! I can take you home—“

“No!” you declined sharply. Makoto was honestly shocked by your outburst; though you had only ever interacted twice (once when he ran into you, twice at the hospital), you seemed like such a kind, patient person. You were never one to raise your voice. You recognized this too, because you quickly apologized, “I-I’m sorry for yelling. The storming must’ve put a damper on my mood…” You chuckled weakly, attempting to make humor. Makoto felt a small smile lift his lips; you were trying so hard to be optimistic despite your situation. He liked that about you. “Were you on your way to pick up Komaru-chan? Because she took a cab.”

“What…?” Makoto’s heart deflated, and disappointment burrowed into his chest. He had gone all this way, walked through the rain, only to have Komaru take a cab home. He fought the urge to frown, afraid that you would blame yourself, and instead asked, “Well, since Komaru has gone home, I might as well do something productive. Are you sure I can’t walk you home?”

Unease caused you to turn your gaze away. “I know where I’m going. I’ve gone there a thousand times.” You tightened your grip on his coat, shuddering at the glacial rain, and reached a hand out to scoop something from the ground. Upon closer inspection, Makoto identified it as a book.

Great. He had ruined something else about your life.

“Is that your book?” he asked curiously. “I can replace it. I’m the one who damaged it, anyway.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ve read it before,” you assured him, though he could hear the chagrin in your tone. Makoto watched as you pushed yourself off of the ground, and he soon stood as well. You appeared a bit uncomfortable, your eyes darting in all different directions. “Thank you for the coat, but I think I’ll return it now…”

“No, please keep it,” Makoto insisted with a light blush on his face. “At least until you get home. I can survive.” He offered a smile as if to convince you of his statement. You stared at him for a second before breaking into a small smile of your own.

“Well, um…thank you,” you told him, pulling it closer around you. “I really appreciate it, Naegi-kun.”

When he got home, his parents were unhappy that he hadn’t picked up Komaru in time—or so she told them. Though he wanted to defend himself, say that she had gotten a cab before he had a chance, Makoto was too busy thinking about you to do so. He wondered how you were doing. Had you gotten home all right? Did you repair your book? That night, he went to bed, his head swimming with all sorts of thoughts.

The next day, Komaru returned from school, reporting that you had fallen sick with a cold. She had come home late, considering she went to visit you, and gave Makoto his coat back.

“(Y/n) wanted to thank you for it,” Komaru told him. “Oh, and she added not to worry about her cold. She’s used to it by now.”

While hanging it up in his closet, a book fell out of one of the pockets, and when Makoto picked it up, he recognized it as the book you had dropped in the rain. Though you never outright stated it was your favorite, he had a hunch that it was, and he was correct months later when you were on your first date and he inquired about it.

“Huh? You remember that?” you asked in surprise. You chuckled and scratched your cheek. “Yeah, it’s my favorite book. But I never got around to replacing it. I was always too busy.”

You made Makoto promise that he wouldn’t pay for a new copy, because you didn’t want him to feel obligated to, but he broke that promise when you fell into a coma. After all, he wanted you to remember.

Now that Makoto thought back on it, he wondered how he hadn’t realized how strange you were acting. Avoiding his attempts to walk you home…It became obvious that you clearly didn’t want him to see your home or your home situation.

The third gift was a light green scarf you had (unsuccessfully) knitted for him for Christmas, around a year and a half after you had met him. You had given it to him directly, claiming that it was better to give gifts in person. Makoto was so surprised by the action (considering you barely knew each other) that he felt guilty about not having a present in return. Sensing his worries, you assured him that the best way to pay you back was by simply being grateful.

“Even if you never wear it, as long as I know you appreciate the gesture, I’m happy,” you said to him. So in order to pay you back in the best way possible, Makoto wore it every single day every single winter from that day on.

Those were just the gifts that stood out to him among the many. They were the ones that meant the most to him. They were the ones that defined your relationship—the beginning and the end of it. Because the last gift he brought to your side was the black velvet box that he could not open. He had no more gifts to bring you, so all he brought were your memories, woven and brought to life with his words.

Every single time he entered your room from now on, he always began with, “Do you remember…”

   In the past year, you had had at least four different nurses.

The first one was the only one Makoto hadn’t particularly liked. She was cranky and old and she honestly scared Makoto to death. The reason she wanted a different patient was because Makoto had once asked why she hadn’t retired yet. As it turned out, she was a middle-aged woman who had smoked since she was in high school, and the effects were taking a toll on her appearance.

The second one was a young girl who had just graduated from med school, but she wasn’t confident with her skills. She was also very nervous around men, and cried once when Makoto accidentally brushed her arm with his hand. After that, he never saw her again—not even in passing through the halls.

The third one was actually very kind. Unfortunately, she was very flirty and tended to use you in order to flirt with Makoto; for example, when she bent over your body while tending to you just to expose her chest to Makoto. Thankfully, not a week later after that traumatizing event, she was fired due to scandal—apparently, she had been sleeping with one of the doctors.

The fourth one had yet to be changed, but Makoto doubted it would be any time soon. She was the only decent one out of them all. She was gentle and wise and serious about her work. She had once walked in on Makoto while talking to you, and though he frantically apologized for his behavior, she was anything but angry. In fact, she admitted that she would even talk to you when he wasn’t present, just to keep you in touch with the outside world.

“I think it’s very sweet,” she told him once. “Besides, doctors believe that comatose patients are aware of the world around them. So try being as positive as possible, please.”

From then on, Makoto only spoke of happy memories to you.

   You were never clear on what you wanted to be when you grew up. As you developed, so did your opinions. In middle school, you wanted to be a dentist. After meeting Makoto, it changed to a businesswoman. Then to a lawyer. By the time you graduated middle school, you had alternated between over forty dream jobs—going back to dentist at least three times.

During your high school years, you were pretty set on becoming an actress. You joined the improv club and the drama program, though you never earned a lead. Still, you were content with just participating in it altogether. Komaru would drag Makoto and their parents along to see your productions. And even though Komaru knew Makoto was always busy, she somehow found a way to sneak him out of homework so he could come just for the weekend.

It wasn’t until you were in your junior year that Makoto realized his feelings for you, so it wasn’t until then that he actually started paying more attention to your productions. Even if you were the most insignificant role in the play, Makoto’s eyes were always locked on you; personally, he believed that you stole the show.

Of course, that dream of becoming an actress was promptly replaced by a desire to be a nurse, which was why Makoto was happy that your current nurse was so keen about talking to you. Hopefully, hearing from someone of your desired job would prompt you awake. But even so, he made sure to bring in things from other occupations you had once hoped to join. He brought those fake dental teeth that chattered, he brought newspaper articles with immersive cases that you could solve, he brought a video clip of one of your performances.

Just like how you stole his eyes on stage, you stole his eyes in real life.

   A year and a half. It was a year and a half before you finally woke up.

Though Makoto had always remained faithful in his visits, he had contracted an illness—one that had kept him confined to his bed for a few days. So during those few days, he asked Komaru to visit you for him. Komaru was more than happy to agree; after all, it was spring break.

Makoto regretted that he couldn’t visit you himself, but he knew the hospital wouldn’t let him in, and even if they did, he wouldn’t want you to get sick and stunt your recovery. So he just sucked it up and patiently waited for his recovery. And once he was able to walk on his own without vomiting, Makoto was swift in driving to the hospital. He was so desperate to visit you that he didn’t even bother bringing a gift. Well, more like his muddled mind forgot about one.

Like always, he stopped right in front of your door and steeled himself. But before he could begin his private meditation, he heard voices sound from within.

“…you feeling, (L/n)-san?” It was a deep, rich voice. Your doctor, who Makoto rarely ever saw since you were in a coma and only required tending from your nurse.

And then he heard it. Your voice. As melodic and mellifluous as always.

“I…I’m fine, I think. Where am I?”

Makoto wasted no time in pushing the door open and vaulting into the room. Though he had only sprinted in a few feet, his chest heaved due to the sudden amount of exercise he had performed—he was never an athletic person.

But he fastened his eyes directly on you and your tired form, which was sat up thanks to your nurse. And you looked back at him with your beautiful, stunning eyes which he hadn’t seen in the longest time.

It was silent between you. Even the doctor dared not to break the personal silence.

“Makoto…?” you finally said, tears welling in your eyes. Makoto wanted nothing more than to wrap you up in his arms and breathe in your scent, but he knew the doctor would not appreciate it, so he contained his urges for a moment. He walked over to the other side of the bed and fell to his knees. You extended your hand to him, which he promptly snatched up in his hands. He pressed multiple kisses to your knuckles. “Makoto…!” You began crying, not because of his actions, but because you were so grateful that he was the one of the first people you saw.

But he was deaf to your sobbing. Because you were awake.

You were finally awake.

   A few days after you were discharged from the hospital, Makoto brought you back to his apartment. Since you were behind in your academics for about a year, you would have to work hard to catch up with everyone. You wanted to return to your dorm room on campus, but Makoto was now extremely protective of you. He didn’t want the same thing to happen again, and now that you were in a wheelchair, you required more assistance than others.

Yes, you, (Y/n) (L/n), were in a wheelchair. The impact of the car accident had broken your spine, so you were paralyzed from the waist down. You didn’t feel a single thing in your legs, nor could you move them at all. When you poked yourself, you were frightened by the lack of feeling. The doctors reported that it would take years of physical therapy if you wanted to recover—and even then, it was very unlikely that you would. So for now, you had to rely on others for help.

You reluctantly agreed. Sure, Makoto was your boyfriend, but you didn’t like feeling this way. You hated how everyone rushed to your side to assist you just because you were handicapped. Sure, it was more difficult for you to get things done, but that didn’t mean you were entirely incapable of doing things on your own. Even Komaru, who you had believed wouldn’t do this, coddled you. It was frankly quite annoying.

The only thing that you accepted help for was keeping your hygiene. Basically taking baths.

You and Makoto had never been…intimate. So he was a bit nervous about this whole thing. Nudity was a very personal thing, and he didn’t want you to do anything you were uncomfortable with. But what other choice did you have? Without him, it would be extremely difficult for you to enter the bathtub, and though you had expressed your desire to do things on your own, this was the only thing you had accepted help for.

The doctors and nurses had given you careful instructions on how to bathe, so you were going to do that on your own. But you needed assistance with entering the bathtub. Which was where Makoto came in.

Makoto took deep breaths to calm himself down as he stood outside of your shared closet. He wrung his hands together, wiped his sweaty palms on his pants, and paced back and forth anxiously. His attempts to expel his nervous energy were in vain. The more he paced, the more he thought, which only resulted in terrible scenarios popping into his head.

He squeaked and whirled around involuntarily when he heard the creaking of your wheels. You rolled out of your closet, cheeks a bright red, with a towel wrapped tightly around your body. He released a breath of air he hadn’t realized he was holding. A part of him had been afraid you would come out naked, but now he realized how ridiculous that was of him to assume.

“W-Well?” you stammered, clearing your throat and folding your arms across your chest. “Aren’t you going to h-help me?”

“R-Right!” Makoto nodded firmly. He hurried forward, but then stopped right in front of your chair. How should he do this? He didn’t want to harm you in any way, but he didn’t want to take forever. Eventually, Makoto decided to snake his arms beneath your shoulders and waist. He gingerly lifted you out of the wheelchair and carried you over to the bathtub, which was already filled with water. Once your body was submerged, Makoto watched as you removed the towel. His heart hammered in his chest, and he felt a lump grow in his throat. “D-Do you need help…?”

“No…”

Makoto dipped his head and turned to leave, but he was stopped by your, “Wait!” When he looked back, you were staring at him with wide, pleading eyes. “Don’t leave. I’m scared.”

“Scared? Of what?”

You shifted your gaze shamefully to the ground. “Of you leaving.”

Me leaving…? Does she mean leaving the apartment or leaving her?

“What do you mean, (Y/n)?”

“What if you leave and I need to get out? How will I do that without you?” There was a part of Makoto that suspected that you were hinting at a metaphor, but he didn’t want to assume anything. At least not until it was clearer.

“I won’t leave. I’ll stay right here.” To prove his words, Makoto knelt down next to the bathtub. He offered a reassuring smile. “I’m glad you woke up, (Y/n).”

You returned the smile tiredly. “Me too.” Closing your eyes, you relaxed into the warm water and lolled your head to the side. Makoto’s hand caressed your cheek, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. He frowned briefly.

For once, Makoto could tell that you were hiding your pain.

  You and Makoto rarely ever went on dates anymore. You were so busy catching up with college that you barely had time for anything else. When Makoto talked to Komaru about it, she reported the same thing, that you kept turning down her invitations to hang out. And when Makoto returned home that day, a question rang on his mind.

Were you immersing yourself in work in order to ignore your problems in life?

More often than not, you expressed your frustration at being able to sustain yourself. You couldn’t reach high shelves. You couldn’t climb stairs, and people stared at you in the elevator. You couldn’t run or jump or do all of the things you used to love doing. Sometimes, you even had to request Makoto to help pull your pants on.

Makoto wondered if you were so ashamed by your handicap that you tried distracting yourself from reality by drowning in your work.

You were no longer the girl he had met six years ago. You were no longer the cheerful girl who was so kind that it was hard to fathom that such a person existed. You were no longer the girl who gave those she loved hand-made scarves without asking for a reward. You were no longer the girl who he had fallen in love with three years ago.

But Makoto knew that girl was deep down in there. He knew that if he could only dig her out, she would return.

Makoto waited eagerly for your return home. Komaru, who wanted the real you back, was more than happy to agree to assist Makoto with his proposal. It was the weekend, which usually meant you remained at home, holed up in your room as you studied hard. But Komaru managed to convince you (more like pester you until you gave in) to hang out with her. Komaru promised Makoto she could buy him a few hours to set everything up. And indeed, he used every single moment he had.

So when he heard the locked doorknob rattle as you attempted to open it, he darted right behind where the door would conceal him when opened.

Sure enough, when you pushed the door open, you were unaware of his presence behind the door.

“Makoto?” you called out, rolling forward. You opened your mouth to speak again, but were immediately silenced by the sight before you.

The entire foyer was lit up with candles, which were positioned atop tables, the floor—some were even placed on the walls with sconces. But they formed a clear path into the living room, where the true gift awaited. Makoto watched as you slowly wheeled through the designated path. You couldn’t tear your eyes from the candles, speechless from the spectacle. Makoto carefully and silently snuck behind you, making sure not to alert you of his presence.

He came to a sudden stop when you did in the middle of the living room. You were currently staring at a heap of gifts atop a table that Makoto had collected and piled. It was the presents he had brought every day to the hospital. You rolled up to the table and slowly picked up the first thing that caught your eye. The copy of your favorite book with a tissue clipped to it—reminding you of when you caught a cold after Makoto had accidentally ruined your favorite book.

“Do you remember when we first met?”

You let out a small yelp and turned yourself around to look at Makoto. He had dressed up for the occassion, though he was unsuccessful in taming his hair. He approached you with slow, small steps as he smiled lovingly at you. You watched with wide, shocked eyes, as he continued speaking.

“Do you remember when I ruined your favorite book? Or when you gave me the light green scarf for Christmas? And when I went to all of your productions because Komaru forced me to?”

As he relayed event after event, asking if you remembered, he watched as your expression went from perplexed to thoughtful. He could see how you were remembering each and every time, and it was evident by the way the smile stretched across your face. Soon, he came to a stop right in front of you. His fingers tightened around the black box hidden cleverly behind his back.

“Do you remember when I proposed to you?”

Your mouth dropped. “Wh-What…?”

Makoto fell to one knee and pulled out the box from behind his back. He popped the lid open, revealing a beautiful ring that glittered in the light of the countless candles that surrounded you.

“(Y/n) (L/n),” he said, voice trembling. “Will you marry—“

Suddenly, he was cut off when the sprinklers went off, drenching you both in water. You let out a small scream, but then burst into laughter. Makoto pushed the hair out of his face and frowned. This was not how he had planned his proposal to go. But then again, he probably should have expected this to happen. It wasn’t exactly wise of him to light a bunch of candles in a closed room that had a fire alarm.

“Um…Let me try again,” Makoto blushed. “(Y/n) (L/n)—“

“Yes!” you cried, eyes red with tears. “Yes, I’ll marry you!”

With surprising strength, you pushed yourself off of your wheelchair and fell on top of Makoto. He collapsed to the ground due to the surprise, but his yelp of surprise was suppressed by your lips crashing onto his. It was the first time Makoto had felt anything from your kisses in a long time.

It was a while before you extricated yourself from Makoto, and he knew that he would remember this moment for the rest of his life. 

I will admit that I got the idea for Makoto’s proposal scene from The Office; so please do not sue me or anything for it ^^’’ I just wanted a proposal scene that went terrible to signify the unity of their bad luck.

Also, I will be deviating from Danganronpa! I have recently become obsessed with Persona 5 (and the series in general) so I will be posting an Akira Kurusu/Reader soon. There will still be Danganronpa x Reader, but I just wanted to inform you all that it’s not the only fandom I write for lol. 

[jobanana7]

Nothing new.

So…this is mostly for me! Lol no honestly this is a little experiment I did playing with the idea of fem!Peeta x katniss and this is what came to me, hope you like it and that it doesn’t offend anyone (tho is 2017 lol) and yeah tell me what ya think??? Yea?

Ins: girls like girls by hayley kiyoko

……………………………. It all started when she meet Gale in the school library, up until that point she was convinced there was something wrong with her like maybe she needed to dress differently, more like a girl but she was comfortable in her converse and baggy jeans and a thee, her long blonde hair always in a pony, away from her face and paint marks  always on her fingers, she never was drawn to guys in the typical way, yeah she had friends here and there but it never made her want to know more, she could see some boys looking at her at it almost made her mad, like they were expecting her to change and run to them, so gale was different that way, he took his time to get to know her first.

They began to talk and she supposes that he’s okay and they’re are so different that it keeps her entertained, he did all this things like hunting and climbing mountains, he works at a shoot range, she was a high school junior this year and wanted to do paintings,  help her dad.  She finds it funny really.

The first time they were intimate was scary, not only was this her first time with someone and that was uncomfortable enough but when it was done and over she felt nothing, none of the feelings people are always talking about, no butterflies in her stomach, no deep connection with the guy. She felt disappointed and betrayed by the world because books, songs and poems are written about these types of things but there was nothing and so she left as soon as he fell asleep beside her.

It wasn’t long after when Peeta meet his family, his mom was incredible, so kind and good to her, she immediately liked her, so different from her own mom who’s always on her case about her appearance and her school that she never felt good enough for her. His dad is a typical southern dad, tattoo one arm and a friendly smile on his face.

Then there was his sister, Katniss, the reason he was at the library at her school that day.  Peeta finds herself drawn to her. Everything about this girl fascinated her from her braid and her olive skin to her quicksilver eyes. She’s dressed in shorts a tank top and boots.

She smiles at her and extends her hand to her

“hi, I’m Katniss” she says and it sounds like a song to her.

“Woooow easy there catnip, she’s mine” Gale laughs and Katniss gives him the finger and flushes. She for some reason finds the blush on her cheeks adorable. And she had no idea why Gale needed to point this out but she didn’t want to make a big deal out it, she’s also the baby so she knows how big brother’s work, while at dinner katniss and her get to talking and she’s in her grade and she feels like an idiot for not noticing her before but once she did she couldn’t stop herself and in the following days she looks around for Katniss. One day when she’s running late for class she finds her press up against a looker by another girl, blonde and her head half shaved and they are kissing, Peeta can’t do anything but stare and Katniss catches her eyes, she flushes and runs away. That’s the first time she gets that feeling in her soul.

They clicked right away and even though, she’s the exact opposite as her and  she’s never felt more connected or comfortable with someone than she does with Katniss.

They go to the movies together, and go hunting together, Katniss likes to tease her saying that if their life depended on it they would starve to death because of how loud she is,when they hug she could get lost in the scent of her , they do homework together and lie in bed, sometimes she catches a gleam of Katniss’s skin when her shit gets pull up by the bed and others she’ll catch  Katniss staring at her and her whole body goes on fire. She really likes that feeling.

Even their families tease them about it, her brothers ask her about her partner in crime when she doesn’t come to her house for diner and Gale tells Katniss to get lost when she’s with them and he wants to be left alone, she never does.

One night his mom and dad are out of town she spends the night at Gale’s, when her dad asked her where she was going she said.

“I’m going to katniss’s we have some stuff to do” he laughed a little and said

“I like Katniss for you, pea! Such a nice girl” and she said nothing, deep down she wished Katniss not being such a good girl with her, she felt like an asshole you don’t think about your boyfriend’s sister like that.

Once she’s  there she notices that Katniss has a friend over, another girl.

“oh this is Madge, Madge this is Peeta, Gale’s girlfriend” Katniss introduces her and she gets this feeling in the pit of her stomach that she hates it she has no right to be so protective over her friend, her best friend, her friend of almost a year, she thinks to herself so then she thinks that maybe she does have a right to be so protective over her. Doesn’t she?.

They play games and drink some beers Gale decides is a good idea to go get tacos at 2 in the morning and Madge in all her drunk stupor accepts and they go

They play the mandatory game of spin the bottle while alone she kinda thinks is lame for a couple of high school seniors to play this game but, what does she knows? .

Spin, spin, spin

She realizes that she’ll have to kiss Katniss no matter what and her breath cachets In her chest, this funny thing at her lower tummy is new to her and the bottle lands on her.

Blue eyes lock with silver and she’s willing this thing to go away because she knows bad things will happen if something happens tonight so she shakes her head and walks away from this girl that’s becoming her everything.

In Gale’s room she lies in bed and cries because she does want to kiss her friend and do more but, she can’t and she won’t, she falls asleep .

Morning comes and they get dressed for a day in the pool, Madge is nowhere to be found and Gale is hung over so Katniss and her get in the pool.

They swing for a long time neither one of them wanting to talk about it, is at sunset when they’re sitting at the edge of the pool that Katniss says

“Your favorite kind of orange” Is gentle and simple but it means a lot to her.

She’s looking at this girl in front of her  and she can’t take it any more she kisses her.

Soft lips meet hers in the middle and she reaches for the back of her neck and her skin is even better that what she imagined the kiss grows neediner on her part, Katniss takes control of the kiss her tongue willing Peeta’s lips open and this, this, she thinks is what she needed before, her lips, her tongue, her hands on her waist pulling her more secure to her body.

I all goes to hell then, Gale is pulling her by her hair away from his sister, calling her unspeakable things and he slaps her across the face , she falls to the ground and she has no idea what happens next, she sees Gale on his back in the ground katniss on her knees at his sides pinching him and she’s crying while she beats her brother,there’s blood everywhere on Katniss’s face and hands on Gale’s as well, she tries to pull them apart and when she finally does she sees Gale crying as well because of heartbreak or anger she doesn’t know, he promises never to talk to his sister anymore, she’s death to him and leaves without another word.

she feels like she should leave too but again they are alone and she can finally be with this girl she loves and because she’s done pretending,putting up this face for everyone else to see.

So she looks up at this girl before her and even though her face is bruised and bloody she has never beheld a more beautiful sight in her life and she knows nothing is going to happen today or tomorrow but maybe someday.

She brings her hand to her face and flicks the tears and the blood away, she  leans in and gives her a peek in the lips which Katniss returns, is just a soft promise to one another and says she’ll call later and Katniss says that she’ll see her in school.

On her way home she can’t help but think that yes she feels bad about Gale and she has no idea what her brothers and Dad are going to say and that’s scary but she can’t deny how normal it all felt like it was just there and she’s now acting on It. Because at the end of the day there’s nothing new in a girl liking a girl so as long as she has her best friend at her side, together they can do anything.

[solivar]

WIP: Ghost Stories On Route 66

aka the one in which Hanzo Shimada is an expatriate student of the Fine Arts, attending college in what he assumes to be a reasonably sedate corner of the American southwest. Jesse McCree is an occasionally leather-clad NPS ranger whose duties extend somewhat further than shooing lost tourists back onto the clearly marked hiking trails. Something weird is going on in the desert south of Santa Fe and their lives unexpectedly come together in the middle of it.

Now featuring family meetings over breakfast, Genji being right about something, and Hanzo tossing the very last of his fucks out the window.

Author’s note: I’m having oral surgery tomorrow so I’m going to go out on a limb here and suggest that maybe, just maaaaaybe, that the next section might not come out tomorrow. However, once I get this stinking tooth out, I will no longer be continuously fighting off an infection that saps my energy and randomly puts me in the hospital. I will attempt to get back to my regular writing schedule and your entertainment forthwith. ^_^

Sweetwater’s Cafe and Dim Sum Palace was what happened when the owner of the hip young southwestern fusion cuisine cafe closest to the UNM main campus met the owner of the hip young Chinese small plates restaurant closest to the UNM main campus and, rather than engage in an increasingly rancorous culinary battle for the spare cash of every student in walking distance, they instead fell wildly in love and shortly thereafter into scrumptious and wholesome partnership. Strategically located catty-corner to the main campus residence halls, the post-merger restaurant became the place for broke ass college students attempting to top-load on calories for the day to turn up as soon as the doors opened, eat from carts pushed around three stories of public-to-semi-private dining space by an army of cheerful abuelitas for two hours straight, and still make a 9:30 lecture with time to spare. The joint Shimada-Tekhartha-Song-Correia household dined there frequently enough that the host waved them through despite the fact that Hanzo still looked like he had just committed a phthalo green and phthalocyanine blue shaded murder even after a thorough scrubbing. Fortunately, their usual table, a booth in the back corner of the semi-private floor, was unoccupied and he rather swiftly found himself tucked firmly between Genji on one side and Zenyatta on the other, with Lucio and Hana standing guard on the outside ends of the U-shaped seat. Hana had, in fact, only parted with her adopted hockey stick with extreme reluctance.

“Is it too early to start drinking?” Hana asked brightly. “Because, between you and me, I have a feeling that today is going to be the sort of thing that demands Mimosas. Lots of Mimosas. And possibly a whole bottle of tequila before it’s all over.”

“Yes,” said Hanzo and Zenyatta, more or less simultaneously and in reasonably identical disapproving tones, to their mutual surprise.

“You two aren’t going to be a single bit of fun about any of this, are you? Okay, fine.” And when the drinks cart came around, she settled for a spiced hot chocolate and waited patiently for everyone else to adulterate their tea or coffee before demanding, “All right. Spill it. I want to know in excruciating detail why our security deposit probably just went down the toilet.”

Hanzo inhaled the steam rising off his cup of tea, took a fortifying sip, organized his thoughts, and began to speak, pausing only when the food carts stopped next to their table. He told them about the trip itself, the breakdown, the walk through the desert, the ranger and their drive back to the car the next morning, and precisely how everything had gone horribly, hideously wrong from that point forward. He even copped to talking to Zenyatta first, which earned them both a half-startled, half-hurt look from Genji. When he finished, the table was covered in half-empty plates of huevos rancheros, honey-coated sopapillas, carne adovada burritos, pork xiao long bao, sesame buns, and a crock of hot and sour soup. He helped himself to a little bit of everything while the others digested what he told them.

“So...what you’re saying is…” Hana said in the tone of one musing idly aloud, “...your smoking hot park ranger has one hot vampire dad and one terrifying smog monster dad but, nonetheless, he has two dads, which means he won’t find it completely traumatic if you call him up and ask him if he wants to go get some hot chocolate and pumpkin empanadas once all this is over?”

“Really? That was your takeaway from his story?” Lucio asked.

“It was the takeaway that doesn’t make me want to run screaming back to Korea.” Hana replied, sweetly.

“Okay, there is that.” Lucio turned and leveled a deadly serious look at him, brown eyes intensely earnest. “Han, I love you man, you know that, right? So you know this is coming from a place of love when I say you could not be more obviously thirsty for this dude if you had a holoscreen floating over your head announcing in foot-tall flashing letters I am thirsty for Ranger Jesse McCree. Seriously, ask him out. The worst he can do is say he’s not interested.”

Hanzo buried his face in his soup bowl in an effort to disguise the fact that all the blood was rushing into his head with such violence he could hear it roaring in his ears like a gale-force wind. On one side, he could feel Zenyatta heroically controlling the urge to add his encouragement to the chorus; on the other, he suspected that Genji was restraining something considerably less supportive.

“Show of hands,” Genji asked, his tone positively glacial with the self-control it was taking him not to have a screaming freakout in the middle of breakfast, “Who thinks my brother being stalked by a soul-eating monstrosity from beyond reality as we know it is completely unacceptable and something we should all be working to change right now?”

Four hands went up; Hanzo abstained, since he felt his opinion on the matter should be fairly self-evident.

“Seriously, though.” Hana reached over and snagged a sopapilla. “I joke because otherwise I’d be rocking back and forth in a corner gibbering right now because, really, that was kinda the creepiest thing I’ve ever seen and my Dad collects vintage Junji Ito manga so I know from creepy.”

“I gotta agree with Hana on that one.” Lucio continued to look intensely earnest. “I get why you tried to keep us out of it and I appreciate that, I do, because this semester is trying to murder me even without the addition of horrible tentacle monsters -- “

“I am not entirely certain those are tentacles,” Hanzo murmured into the surface of his soup.

“-- or suspiciously tentacular not-tentacles, but seriously, man. Your life is like normal repellent right now. Anti-normal.” Lucio slumped back in his seat. “And your ranger dude thought sending you back to standard reality would help?”

“The principle is a sound one.” Zenyatta interjected quietly. “The purpose of returning him to us was to encourage his soul to anchor itself in the comforting rituals of the ordinary, of the life he led before it intersected with the unnatural. I suspected the medicine sent to aid that endeavor was dosed slightly too high and therefore overperforming in an unhelpful way -- reducing it, however, may have allowed for something even more dangerous. For that I am profoundly sorry.”

“I asked for your help -- you have nothing to apologize for, Zenyatta.” Hanzo drank the last of his bowl. “Perhaps I should -- “

“Take an academic leave of absence and put a couple thousand miles of ocean between you and whatever that thing is?” Genji suggested helpfully.

“I am not entirely certain that physical distance would actually constitute an encumbrance in this case.” Zenyatta interjected.

“Why not?” His brother replied, with the sort of maddening powers of logic he could marshal when circumstances demanded it. “The ranger suggested it would help if he stayed away from where it happened in the first place -- rationally, even further away would be safest, right?”

“The ranger sent me back here because you are my family,” Hanzo replied quietly. “And because being in your presence would constitute a form of healing. Would you like to contemplate the sort of convalescence I would enjoy if I crawled home and told our parents this story? I would spend the rest of my life contemplating the world through a heavy antipsychotic-colored haze from behind the unrelentingly beige walls and discreetly reinforced windows of a psychiatric institution that I would never be allowed leave again. I’m half amazed you don’t think I’m insane.”

“Admittedly, we kind of have the advantage of knowing you as the less freaky Shimada brother.” Lucio replied soothingly, flicking a glance at Genji as he did so. “No offense, G.”

“None taken.” Then, grudgingly, “I don’t think father would let that happen, but I see your point.”

Hanzo let the breath he’d been holding out in a shaky sigh. “Thank you.”

“In any case, I would suggest that our next course of action should be determining if that...painting...at the house is more than it appears to be -- “ Zenyatta looked up at the squeaks of dismay emanating from Hana.

“Could it be? Honestly?” She asked, eyes approximately twice their normal size. “Because, as it is, I’m not entirely sure I wanna sleep there with it still up as it is and if there’s, y’know, a chance it and its I-can’t-believe-those-aren’t-tentacles might come oozing off the walls I’m completely sacking out in your car for the foreseeable future, Zen, just warning you in advance.”

“Yes.” Simple and unadorned and, not for the first time that day, Hanzo felt as though he were trying to breathe around a red-hot spiky ball of panic.

“So. We call the ranger.” Genji said, firmly. “As far as I’m concerned, a whole lot of this is his damned fault in the first place and he can be doing more to help fix it.” Hanzo opened his mouth to object and found himself collecting a ferocious iridescent green glare for his troubles. “And, no, I don’t want to hear about how it isn’t because your judgment on this topic is completely impaired by your desire to climb him like a fire tower.”

“That is the worst analogy in the entire history of time.” Hanzo replied tersely. “And I am not -- “

“And Hana has a point, too, about staying at the condo not being the best idea until this gets figured out -- which, ideally, should happen today.” Genji continued doggedly on. “And you’re not going to be sleeping across from that no matter what.”

“Agreed.” There were days when it simply didn’t pay to fight, and this was clearly one of them. Hanzo fished the card containing the ranger’s contact information out of his pocket. “I’ll -- “

Genji snagged it in a single smooth motion. “I’ll call him. You’re supposed to be seeking normal, right? Go to class. Keep your studio slot. Hang out in well-lit areas preferably surrounded by hundreds of people. We’ll meet up at the Student Union at...five? How’s five for everybody?”

A general murmur of assent ran around the table and Hanzo nodded, reluctantly, in agreement.

Genji grinned. “Don’t look so worried, aniki. I’ll only chew on him a little bit.”

*

Zenyatta dropped them off at the entrance to the main campus and, until Lucio and Hana peeled off in their respective morning lecture hall directions, Hanzo felt rather distinctly like he was walking surrounded by the world’s smallest, strangest Secret Service detail. Hana was clearly still itching for the security of a hockey stick and, rather than stopping to talk to the two dozen people who tried to flag her down as they crossed the quad, she waved and continued on, her gaze darting about as though she expected something unwholesomely flexible and sanity-blighting to lurch out from behind one of the pieces of exterior display sculpture scattered along their route. Given recent events, he decided he really couldn’t blame her for her excess of caution. Lucio was altogether more mellow but he was also carrying a messenger bag stuffed with enough notebooks and musical equipment components it could probably be used as an improvised melee weapon of some efficacy against even Things From Beyond With or Without Tentacles.

And Genji was, well, Genji and walked a considerable distance out of the way from his own first class to escort Hanzo directly to the doors of Kaplan Memorial Hall, in which lay the fine arts lecture halls and reservable studio spaces. Under normal circumstances, Hanzo arose at godforsaken o’clock in order to take advantage of the fact that there wasn’t an underclassman alive dedicated enough to their major to voluntarily choose a studio block available before the sun was even properly up, no matter how long they could have it. Genji could generally be counted among those ranks, as demonstrated by his reliance on sunglasses when confronted with the early morning light glinting off the glass-and-adobe exteriors of half the buildings on campus, which he normally only encountered under significantly different conditions.

“Hana’s not done asking questions, you know. She’s got that look in her eye.” Genji remarked, pseudo-casual, and Hanzo’s already well-knotted stomach abruptly contorted itself still further into a digestive fractal of perfect dread. “She let it ride just now because she’s actually got class in fifteen minutes but between you and me? She’s going to rake Zen over the coals once she’s got the time. And when your ranger gets here? I wouldn’t want to be him.”

“He’s not my ranger.” Hanzo replied, deeply regretting both the huevos rancheros and the hot and sour soup.

“Semantics.” Genji gave him a sidelong look. “Hanzo -- “

“You want to tell them.” Hanzo finished the thought for him and paused for a moment in the shadow of one of the big pieces on loan from the Museum of Native American Arts and Culture, planting his back against its base and sinking down onto his haunches.

“Zen already knows.” Evenly. “He saw her in me before we even spoke for the first time. I think that we have to tell them. Admittedly, I wish we could do it under more voluntary circumstances but...I think we owe them the truth. Both of us.”

Hanzo closed his eyes and concentrated for a moment on making certain his breakfast stayed where he’d put it. “You’re right,” He finally said, fighting to keep the misery out of his voice and, apparently, succeeding.

“Wow, I am?” Genji actually took his sunglasses off and blinked down at him in genuine surprise.

“Yes.” Hanzo tilted his head back and let the cool of the granite statue base soak into his skull. “I think the ranger might suspect something, too. And right now it’s only a matter of time before everyone else finds out and then managing how much the fallout sucks. We might as well pull the trigger ourselves.”

Genji hunkered down next to him, hesitated fractionally, then brushed the hair back from his eyes. “It doesn’t have to suck, you know. Our friends are smart, caring people who actually like us, which gives them a couple legs up on the rest of the clan on their worst day.”

Hanzo nodded wordlessly and found he didn’t have it in him to crush the hope in his brother’s eyes. “You’re right about that, too.”

“Clearly a lesser sign of the Apocalypse.” Genji pushed back to his feet and offered him a hand up, which he accepted. “Are you okay?”

No. “I’ll be fine,” Hanzo lied with great sincerity. “I probably should have picked either the Tex-Mex or the dim sum, but not both. Bad decision making on my part.”

“Well, at least you’re grown up enough to admit it.” Genji held onto his arm for the rest of the walk. “Where are you going when you’re done in the studio?”

“The library. I’ve got some research yet to do.” The depths of the Kaplan building yawned before him like the heretofore unsuspected entrance to the Underworld.

Genji made a point of obviously texting that information to the rest of the household. “...We also might wanna kinda call the police again. I let the officer in charge know that you weren’t missing-missing and she left me a voicemail saying they’d like to talk to you to confirm that fact. I just found it this morning.”

Hanzo rolled his eyes heavenward. “Number?”

Genji sent it over and offered him a crooked smile. “Be careful, aniki.”

“I promise I won’t drink my paint water.”

“Or fall asleep.”

Hanzo shuddered. “Not yet anyway. Go to class, Genji.”

The fine arts studios were located on Kaplan Hall’s upper floors, the best to take advantage of its relatively exposed position on the south-westernmost edge of campus and the significantly longer exposure to natural light thus afforded. Hanzo made his way quietly through the corridors where at least two early morning art history seminars were already in progress, avoiding the elevators that sounded like the mournful dying song of some beautifully tragic deep sea creature no matter how freshly maintenanced they might be, and took the stairs to his second floor studio slot. Fortunately for the continuing unsettled state of both his stomach and his sanity, his thesis advisor was likely hip-deep in holoslides in front of one of those seminars right now and if he locked the door and turned on the external sound suppression she would correctly interpret that as Do Not Disturb Art Is Trying To Happen and accost him at their scheduled meeting. Unfortunately, at the moment, he couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do less than Try To Make Art Happen thanks very much to the present state of his bedroom and most assuredly not while locked inside a soundproofed chamber whose emergency access keys were some of the most frequently misplaced items in the entire college. He did not want to contemplate the wreckage of human folly while standing on the brink of exposing his own venality, the stupidity and arrogance that Genji had forgiven him, whose consequences he could never undo. He was not ready yet to give up the warm comfort of the others’ kind regard, could feel a part of him trying to crawl away under some internal rock and die at the thought of Zenyatta’s quiet all-encompassing compassion turning to disgust. Or the ranger. He had to plant his back against the corridor wall and clench his jaw against a stomach-churning rush of nausea as his entirely too vivid imagination painted that reaction shot against the insides of his skull. Which, admittedly, might have made for a strikingly personal and heartfelt contrast piece to the sterility of industrial-scale desolation but at the moment it primarily made him want to curl up in the crawlspace under the back stairwell and cry until he drowned in his own phlegm.

He did not, in the end, lock himself in the studio/potential supernatural deathtrap or cry his face off under the stairs. Instead, he peered over the lower edge of the nearest exterior window to make certain Genji wasn’t lurking in the courtyard, taped a note to the studio door that it was unoccupied and free to use, and fled to the library for the sanctuary to be found in research and the stringently enforced lack of interaction with other human beings.

Hanzo took possession of a carrel close to the windows in one of the second floor study rooms, slotted his tablet into the physical network interface, and connected, pulling up the local news sites he had bookmarked the night before. Cora Hernandez had not been miraculously found in the one night since he became aware of both her existence and her disappearance. In fact, all the most current news suggested that the state police and the rangers were preparing to shift from “search and rescue” to “search and recovery,” now that the temperatures were dropping consistently into the thirties by night. Even a reward for useful information offer well north of a hundred thousand dollars had yielded no new clues to her whereabouts. Her parents looked as though they had aged a decade in a few weeks, her mother pale and distraught, and he could only imagine her agony. In the back of his mind, a soft, small voice wondered idly how much effort his own parents would have assigned to the task of finding him, or his body, and how long they would have bothered. The lord and lady of the Shimada-gumi were, in the end, fairly brutal in their pragmatism and wasting more than they had to on a bad investment was never their way. Genji would never stop and he ruthlessly crushed that thought before it could go any further and closed the news tab, refusing to indulge in the thought of what would happen if his brother encountered the thing that attacked him unaware of its nature and there he was imagining it in vivid, horrifying detail and this was definitely one of those days when it didn’t pay to be a Fine Art Masters candidate. It took a long moment of heavy peace-stress breathing and thinking fixedly of nothing but a horde of kittens and puppies gamboling together in a field of wildflowers to distract himself from the increasingly Memlingesque products of his mind’s eye.

The small furry creatures and oxygen supersaturation eventually had the desired effect and his hands were at least reasonably steady as he activated the carrel’s interface surfaces and requested access to several of the library’s more specialized databases. UNM owned a cultural anthropology department unrivaled in the west, even the University of California system, and if there was anywhere he could go to cure his ignorance on a number of topics, it was definitely here, in its repository for thousands of books and even more scholarly articles and original sources. He brought up the anthropological database’s internal search engine, set his fingers on the holokeys, and hesitated.

If he stopped here, the voice of sweet reason murmured in the back of his mind, it ended here. Genji would call the ranger, and he would come to sort out what was wrong at the house. He would finish the rest of his medicine and his soul would never go wandering away from his body again and in a half a year he would graduate and move to some corner of the world where the ghosts and demons of the desert would never cross his path again. And that would be the best, for himself and everyone else, except the next unlucky soul to fall under that thing’s eye, who might not have rescue as close or as capable.

If he did not stop here, that same voice murmured with a significantly sharper edge to its tone, if he insisted upon continuing to look, then he was asking the nameless thing that saw him, that saw him and stalked him and attacked him, to continue doing so. It might even, perhaps, be an invitation to more of such things. He was, that voice hissed, risking taking a door, already cracked, and throwing it all the way open and inviting whatever waited in the dark beyond inside. And for what? He was nothing and had even less to offer and he punched in his first search queries to the sound of sweet reason’s howling despair, watched the results scroll up his screen with a certain cold satisfaction curling in his gut. There was, to put it mildly, a lot. He set is phone to give him a twenty minute warning on the five o’clock hour and dove in head first.

*

[alinkbetweenportraits]

💛

Peer Into My Muses’ Memories

💛 - A memory that makes them feel angry

“We have to say something.”

“But what can we possibly say that we haven’t already?”

“The poor boy’s been sitting out there since he woke up! And he refuses to eat or drink anything!”

“I can see that, I’m not blind!”

The blacksmith and his wife were bickering between each other, keeping their voices hushed as they did so. They didn’t want to wake up Gulley after finally putting the baby to sleep, and Link could overhear everything. He may be a child, but even they knew the boy was clever enough to take hints. He sat outside in the grass, curled up so that his chin rested on his knees. The sun had already set and fireflies were already illuminating the dimly lit forest. He hadn’t spoken or moved since he came to. Link only sat there, waiting for any sign that his father would come back.

“Hylia above, can’t you try talking to him instead? I’ve been out searching for the man all night.” The blacksmith groaned, putting a hand over his head. “Good grief, there’s no sign of him or whoever raided the house anywhere. And the whole village got together to find him!”

“I only hope he shows up soon…” his wife mused, placing a hand over her chin in thought. “What if something horrible happened to him? And didn’t they break through Link’s window? You don’t think they were trying to hurt the boy, were they?”

“I don’t know,” he muttered, shaking his head. “But I don’t think it’s a good idea to leave him alone for some time. Where else can he go, though? His mom passed away years ago and there’s no other family around.”

“You’re talking to him.”

“Wha–?”

“You heard me,” the wife chimed in, stepping closer and poking him in the chest with her index finger. “If there was ever a time your friend needed you, this is it. Now more than ever. We are not throwing that boy out on the streets like this or waiting for someone else to act. Hylia have mercy I refuse to let it get any worse than it already has! We will make space and try to make this work. No, we will make it work. Now you go talk to that boy and get him inside this instant! He needs to eat before he gets any thinner than he already is!”

“Okay–Okay!” The blacksmith stammered, raising his hands up as he backed away to the open doorway. He stopped halfway, looking down to Link. There was a long silence as he mulled over his many possible explanations as to why something this horrible could happen out of nowhere. The boy would have a million questions, ones he didn’t have an honest answer to. He eventually rubbed the back of his neck, heaving a sigh before stepping forward and taking a seat beside Link. “Hey, Link. Misses says you gotta come in. It’s getting dark and you’ve gotta eat something.”

“No,” he mumbled, sinking his head lower. “Not without dad.”

“You can do those things and wait for your old man,” he said, raising a hand up to the boy. He at least wanted to console him somehow, but there was shakiness in his own voice. “Look, he wouldn’t want to see you all roughed up yourself. At least try to get a nibble or shut eye or–”

“I don’t wanna!” he snapped, smacking the blacksmith away. “Let go of me!”

The blacksmith let out a hiss in pain, putting a hand over his now red cheek. Geez that kid knew how to throw a punch for his size. He had to keep from losing his temper, though. The blacksmith reached in him for empathy, seeing him less as the snotty brat who caused trouble around Hyrule and more a little kid who’s clearly in distress.

“Link, whatever you’re trying to pull, it’s not going to bring him back sooner. You gotta take care of yourself, too. It looks like it’s gonna rain. You’re gonna get sick out here. So maybe… Maybe your dad will come back when he can or–”

“It’s not a maybe!” Link snapped, jumping to his feet. He stomped on the ground, clenching his fists together as he grit his teeth. “It’s not a maybe, okay!? He’s gonna come back! He promised! I heard him! I know I did!”

“Link take it easy–”

“Why isn’t he coming back!? Where did he go and why wouldn’t he go with me!? He would never break his promises! Why’s this gotta be the first one!?”

“I don’t know! Goddesses, I don’t know!” he snapped, throwing his arms up in the air. Perhaps he was a little too loud, though. Link had jumped and suddenly went silent, staring up at the Blacksmith cautiously. Frustrated with how this talk seemed to be falling apart, he placed a hand over his head and managed a sigh. “I just don’t know, Link. Things happen all the time, bad things with no real rhyme or reason, and we can’t do anything about it. It’s why grown ups tell little kids you gotta be thankful and happy for the things you’ve got today. I don’t know where your dad is or why he isn’t here yet, Link. I wish I did, but I don’t want to lie to you. But I promise we’re going to do everything we can.”

Link stared up at the blacksmith, trying to make sense of his words. But even though they made sense rationally, he couldn’t understand. There were so many things happening at once he couldn’t make sense of anything. He didn’t know what that monster was or those voices in his room were or why any of this had happened. Nothing was being answered the way he wanted it to!

“No! That’s not…!” he began, feeling his eyes become drenched. The boy took a couple of shaky steps back, clumsily using his hands to wipe away the tears that streamed down his face. His dad always taught him to be tough and brave. Crying wasn’t heroic in the boy’s eyes. “That’s not okay! It’s not fair!”

“I know it isn’t…” the blacksmith replied in defeat. “None of us think it is.”

“I want him back! He promised he was gonna come back!” Link wailed out as the blacksmith stepped forward and rubbed the child on the back. His body trembled as he wept, a soft moan of grief escaping between his teeth. “I don’t wanna be all alone!”

“Hey, hey… Come on, Link. You’re not gonna be all alone,” the blacksmith soothed, stepping down and holding Link in a hug. Unlike earlier, the boy had given up fighting against the other entirely. He pressed his head against the man’s shoulder, letting out strained sobs as he clutched onto the fabric of his clothes. The blacksmith did what he could to ease the child’s grief, patting him on the back and occasionally rubbing his head. He felt the first cold pricks of rain fall on his head and looked up to the sky. Winds were beginning to pick up and trees were rattling against the gales. Taking a deep breath, he picked up the boy and led him into the house. “Come on. You waited out here enough. Let’s go inside and get you fixed up, yeah?”

[loveinpanem-blog]

Love is...Ensuring the Enduring Happiness of Katniss Everdeen

by: @finnicko-loves-anniec

Facing twelve weeks of summer without her best friend, Posy knows she needs a project. At first, hunting with Katniss seems like enough, but when she realizes just how lonely her new friend really is, Posy is determined to find a more permanent companion for Katniss. She’s even got the man picked out – Peeta Mellark. Now, all that remains is convincing them they need each other.

It seemed wrong that summer, the time of year where there were the fewest things to do, also had the longest days. At seven and eight, and for most of her ninth year, Posy had not thought much of it. Now that she was ten, however, that observation grated at her. Yes, she could have filled her days in the same way she had in past summers, with pick-up kickball in the town square or playing pretend in the meadow with Paige and Senna, but she felt too big to play kickball with the five-year-olds and she and Senna had gotten into a fight the last day of school that neither of them had yet apologized for. Considering that she hadn’t been the one who told Mrs. Clearney about the insect case, Posy had no intention of saying sorry first. Paige and Senna didn’t agree. Being right felt nice, but it was also boring when nobody else felt like being right with you.

And that boredom was what brought her to this point. Katniss always left the town early, a full hour before the few remaining coal miners headed out for the day shift in the mines. She spent at least three hours out in the woods before returning, usually with at least a couple animals or a big basket of berries in tow. Katniss had amazing focus, an incredible ability to tune out everything around her that wasn’t immediately related to the task at hand, and that kind of concentration must have contributed to her success as a hunter.

It also made her really easy to follow. Posy had been trailing her for at least half an hour before a tree root decided to grab her by the ankle and sent her crashing to the ground. “Oof!”

Katniss whirled around, weapon raised. “Who’s there?” She didn’t sound nearly as friendly now as she did when she and Mom haggled over her meat and berries.

“It’s me. Please don’t shoot me.”

“Posy?” Katniss moved a few steps closer. “Posy Hawthorne, is that you?”

“Yeah.” She sat up. Her ankle didn’t hurt too badly, which she took as a good sign.

Katniss pushed a few branches out of the way to get a better look at her. “You all right? What are you doing out here?”

“I’m okay.” She accepted the hand Katniss stretched out and let the woman pull her to her feet. “I, um, I was –“

“You were following me,” Katniss supplied. She shrugged, but that didn’t make the questioning stop. “Does your mother know where you are?”

“Kind of.” At Katniss’ raised eyebrow, she continued, “I mean, I didn’t tell her where I was going, but she didn’t ask either. I don’t usually have to tell her anyway. I’m old enough to watch myself.”

“As evidenced by the fact that you think it’s a good idea to follow someone with a weapon into the woods.” Well, when she put it that way, it didn’t sound like a good idea, but Posy could twist anything into something terrible with the right set of words. “What if I hadn’t realized it was you? What if I’d assumed you were a deer, or a squirrel, or some man who’d followed me out here when I heard you? Did you even think about that?”

“Why would you shoot a man?”

Katniss huffed. “That’s not the point. What were you thinking?”

“I don’t know. I was bored.”

“You should really let people know you’re there before you start following them.”

“Okay.” Posy waited a second for Katniss to tell her to go away, but the words never came. “So, now that I’m here, can I stay with you?”

Katniss looked pained. “I guess so.”

“And I can come with you tomorrow?” The words came out in a rush of excitement.

“Don’t push your luck.”

After a week, Posy stopped asking. She showed up every morning at Katniss’ house in the Victors Village, and they went together into the woods for the next few hours. Katniss taught her how to use a bow, make traps, and skin squirrels. Gale had promised to teach her all that when he came home last March, but something had gone wrong on the project he was working on in Two, and he’d had to return a week early. That seemed to happen a lot with Gale.

Katniss claimed that she only let Posy stay because her nimble little fingers were better at tying the intricate series of knots that kept the traps open until a squirrel wandered inside. Posy had a very different theory: she wanted the company. Katniss smiled and joked. She got up and went about her day and didn’t mope around the way a few of the people who hadn’t completely returned from the war yet did. Still, when she didn’t realize Posy was watching, the smile would slip away, and the loneliness would creep back in. Posy understood loneliness. She saw it in Mom every time the anniversary of Dad’s death rolled around, in the entire district during those terrible days in July. Everyone kept busy, finished their tasks, kept their smiles glued on, and suffered together silently.

And in any case, Katniss was only about two inches taller than Posy, and her fingers weren’t much larger either.

The solution came to her three weeks into summer vacation. Posy wanted to call it a revelation, but when she looked the word up in the dictionary, she found that revelations usually came all at once. While the basic plan came in one burst one night while the Hawthornes were watching television, it took a while to fill in the details, especially the most important one. See, while it was obvious Katniss needed more permanent company that Posy could provide, one couldn’t take the matter of who would be providing that company lightly.

She went about it the way that Gale said he went about solving problems at work. On a clean sheet in a mostly-used notebook left over from last year, she listed every man in District Twelve between the ages of nineteen and twenty-five. Then over the next few days, she wrote down the pros and cons of each one. Well, not quite each one, as she didn’t know much of anything about some of them, but she made a good effort to give everyone a fair opportunity.

But when she sat down a week later to compare the possibilities, one clear frontrunner came through: Peeta Mellark. He and Katniss had been friends for years. He cooked, painted, and was generally enjoyable to be around. Posy had only managed to find one negative about him, that he might give away all their food to kid who asked for it, but Katniss would always be able to go hunting, so that shouldn’t be a problem. The more she thought about it, the more Posy thought that was just generosity, which didn’t belong on the cons list anyway. Also, she’d heard more than one of the older girls talk about how handsome Peeta Mellark was, and Posy tended to agree with their assessment. With any luck, Katniss did too.

Usually, Katniss was just about ready to leave when Posy arrived. They would finish packing Katniss’ bag together, put on some bug spray to ward off the worst of the mosquitoes, and be on their way in less than fifteen minutes. Today, though, none of her equipment waited outside, and the neighborhood sat silent and still. Posy wondered for a moment if she had arrived too late and Katniss had gone off without her. She hoped Katniss hadn’t, that she would accept Posy being a couple minutes late after showing up early every day for weeks, but sometimes people didn’t think about things like that when they made decisions. Her stomach clenched up as went up to the front porch to ring the doorbell.

“I’ll be down in a second!” Katniss’ voice sounded sleepy and far away. “Give me a minute, Posy.”

It took Katniss a lot longer than a minute to come to the door, and even then, it wasn’t the right door. Her loose hair bounced around her shoulders as she hurried down the front steps of Peeta’s house. “You’re here earlier than I expected.“

“No, you’re late.” Posy always left at 6:25, the same time Mom left to go to work, and she never got to the Victors Village after 6:45. She really doubted she was the one running off-schedule, especially after one considered how wrinkled Katniss’ clothes were. She must have been in a rush even before she went over to Peeta’s for breakfast. “But it’s okay,” she added. No reason to make Katniss feel bad about something that didn’t bother Posy at all.

“Hey,” Katniss said. “If you want to go with me, you go by my schedule, and I say you’re early.”

Posy rolled her eyes at that, and Katniss snorted in laughter as she started to braid her hair. Her fingers moved so quickly that Posy half-expected them to end up knotted together. Instead, she had a neat, finished braid that extended all the way down to her waist done in less than a minute. “Can you teach me how to do that?”

“What?”

“Braid my hair.”

“You’ve already got a braid.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like yours. Mine just goes straight down from my head, see?” She tugged at the offending braid.

Katniss was going to get some weird wrinkles on one side of her forehead if she kept doing that with her eyebrows. That’s what Mom said every time Posy made that face, anyway. “I think we’ve got gravity to thank for that.”

“No.” Posy traced along Katniss’ braid. “Yours goes sideways around your head and then drops diagonal over your shoulder. I want my hair to do that, but Mom can’t figure out how you do it.”

“I can braid it, if you want, but we’re already running late, so teaching you how to do it’ll have to wait.”

Posy undid her hair tie and turned around so Katniss could see her hair. “Are you gonna go over to Peeta’s again for breakfast tomorrow?”

“Breakfast?”

“Like you did today.”

“Oh, um…” She twisted around and caught a hint of Katniss blush before the woman nudged her back. “Cut it out. I need to focus.” There were a few seconds of silence as Katniss finished up the braid. “Anyway, tomorrow’s Monday. Peeta will be at the bakery by four, so I doubt I’ll be getting a breakfast invite.”

Well, it would have been good for them to see each other again, but Posy would have to make the best of it. “So if I show up a couple minutes early, can you teach me then?”

“Sure.”

“No, I’m not going to pull you too!” Posy swatted at River, but the boy dodged and stuck his tongue out at her. “I can’t pull you and the flour, and if I don’t get the flour to Peeta by noon, he’s gonna get mad.” She couldn’t imagine Peeta ever getting angry about something as little as that, but four-year-old River didn’t need to know that. She lowered her voice. “He might even take away the wagon.”

Grey eyes widened in pure terror. The red wagon emblazoned with Mellark’s Bakery had been a mainstay of childhood entertainment in Twelve ever since Peeta bought it three years ago. Big enough to fit four fifty-pound bags of flour – or comfortably seat three children – whenever Peeta didn’t need it to cart shipments from the train station to the bakery, it could be found being paraded in circles around the square. Without it, the long days of summer would have been dreary indeed.

Knowing when her trap had been perfectly baited, she offered a solution. “But if you’re good and don’t bother me the entire way, I’ll make sure you get the first turn after Peeta’s done.”

River gave a very serious little nod and climbed out of the Red Rider. “Okay.” He followed dutifully behind her the entire way back to the square, his eyes never leaving the wagon.

Peeta was waiting for them at the door when they arrived. “You guys made good time. How’s Hatcher doing?”

“He’s doing all right. He said he had a tight schedule today, so he won’t be coming into town.” Posy was pretty proud that she remembered the engineer’s words verbatim.

“Yeah, that’s what it looked like from the schedule. Maybe next time.” He hoisted one of the bags onto his shoulder. “You guys can come in, if you want. I’ve got cookies that just came out of the oven.”

River didn’t seem too sure about leaving the wagon, but the dual promise of shade and cookies lured him inside. Anyway, with three bags of flour still sitting in the Red Rider, nobody was going to be making off with it too soon.

A dull thud came from the pantry when Peeta dropped the flour. He wiped off his hands on a rag and picked out the two biggest cookies off the cooling rack. “One for Miss Posy for being an excellent delivery girl,” he said, holding one out to her. She accepted it with a smile. “And one for Mister River for being a good helper.”

Posy wanted to interject, tell him that no, River hadn’t helped, just annoyed her the entire way to the station, but she had received a cookie for jobs she’d had no part in more than once herself. It was really only being a good friend to pass that on. “Thank you!” River stuffed a giant bite of the sugar cookie into his mouth and sprinted outside.

Peeta laughed, a big warm sound that matched the sunny day. “I suppose I should clear out the wagon for him. You get yourself some water, all right Posy? I don’t want you to get dehydrated after that.”

She didn’t have to stand on her tiptoes anymore to reach the glasses. That felt like victory.

By the time he finished carrying in the flour, she was finished with her cookie and halfway done with her water. “Your hair looks nice today,” Peeta remarked when he came back from the pantry. He gave her braid a gentle tug, and she giggled.

Posy saw her chance. “Katniss taught me how to do it!”

“You did a nice job.”

“She’s really good at hair and a lot of other things too.”

“That she is.” Peeta had a really nice smile. Posy wasn’t sure if it was because he had all his teeth and they were very straight and very clean-looking or because he got little dimples when he did it. Either way, she liked it, and hopefully, Katniss did too. “So, what’s going on in your neighborhood these days? I haven’t seen your mom in a few days. Anything new with her?”

As she began recounting the geese incident, Posy had a thought she had never before considered. If she couldn’t get Katniss and Peeta together, she might just have to marry Peeta Mellark herself.

“Have you ever been to the lake?”

“What lake?”

“There’s a big one a few miles out. My dad used to take me there when I was younger.” Katniss rarely mentioned her father. She didn’t often talk about any of her family members, and Mom had warned Posy not to ask about them, which she still thought strange. Her memories of Thirteen were faded and fuzzy, but Katniss’ sister still shone through. That dismal place had not dimmed Prim’s smile as it had the adults. Posy remembered her as a studious child who spent more time with her books than the other children, but she also recalled in vivid detail being Prim’s helper during a game of hide and seek in one of Thirteen’s enormous storage rooms, listening carefully for any sign of her brothers then racing through a gale of laughter when Vick made a run for it. She hoped Katniss remembered that Prim too, not just the ashes that rested under a granite marker in Twelve’s small cemetery.

“What do you want to do there?”

“I was thinking I could teach you to swim. It’ll be warm enough by now that it should be pretty comfortable.”

Posy’s eyes widened. “Really? I didn’t know you could swim!” Gale had promised that she could visit him for two weeks next summer, and that he’d take her to one of the mountain springs that laced around District Two. Posy didn’t know if they were deep or warm enough to swim in, but she’d like to know how just in case.

“I’m taking that as a yes?” Katniss prodded.

“Yeah!” Posy realized an instant later the opportunity that had presented itself. “Maybe Peeta can come with us?”

Katniss’ forehead crinkled when she frowned. “Why would we bring Peeta?”

Posy shrugged. “He’s nice.”

“Yeah, but he’s also right about the loudest person ever.”

She had Katniss on a point of logic there, which was a nice change. “You said we weren’t hunting, so why would it matter that he’s loud?”

“Point taken, but why do you want Peeta to come with us in the first place?”

“Tomorrow’s Sunday, so he won’t be in the bakery. Maybe he’ll want something to do.”

“You can ask him if you want.”

No, that wouldn’t work at all. It had to look like Katniss’ idea. “Maybe it’d be better if you asked him? Just so he doesn’t think I’m inviting him without asking you first,” she explained.

“All right, I’ll ask him. I’m seeing him for dinner tonight anyway.”

Posy mentally crossed another step off her plan. A day at the lake with no distractions? Better than she could have hoped.

“You’re gonna have to keep up with us, or we’ll leave you behind.”

“And here I thought you were starting to like me,” Peeta deadpanned. Posy was impressed that he still had the energy to be sassy. She had gone out into the woods with Katniss every day for close to two months, and her legs burned after three hours of hiking. The pack bumped against her back with every other step, and she bet she would find a bruise there when she got ready for bed tonight.

Katniss grinned. “Well, that was your mistake.” She pushed ahead, leaving Posy and Peeta behind. Mom always said that kids had too much energy, but she must never have gone hiking with Katniss.

Posy leaned in closer to Peeta. “Don’t worry, I’ll stick around if she tries to leave you. She won’t abandon both of us.”

“Thanks, Posy,” he laughed. Then his voice dropped to little more than a whisper. “And anyway, I think we’ve got her. She put all the food in my pack.”

Posy smiled so widely that it hurt. “You have the cookies?”

“Yeah, but we’ve got to save them for the picnic later, okay? I don’t think Katniss’ll kill me, but I don’t really want to take the chance either.”

“You’d better not give me an excuse. You never know what I’ll do with it.” Katniss’ voice wafted down from the top of the hill.

“Eavesdropping isn’t nice.” Peeta winked at Posy, who giggled. By the time they reached the bend and Katniss came back into view, both were completely composed. “How close are we, Katniss?”

She turned around. “Why don’t the two of you get up here and take a look?”

Posy dug into that last reserve of energy she had and jogged up to the top of the hill. Her mouth fell open when she saw the enormous expanse of blue-green before her. The sun glistened off of the water, jewel-like and beautiful. Beside the lake sat a small cabin, really more of a shack, but the little wooden frame with the faded red door looked more inviting even than the displays put up in the storefronts around New Years. “You can go on ahead,” Katniss said, and her voice ripped Posy from her stupor. Without another thought, she was racing down towards the beach, heavy pack and its uncomfortable bumping completely forgotten. “Be careful with the cabin! I don’t know what kind of critters might have decided to set up shop!”

Besides a few dead spiders and a mouse, no animals waited inside. Posy didn’t pay them any mind. A cot that reeked of mildew and was riddled with holes left by burrowing animals who thought it was comfier to sleep in a mattress rather than on top of it sat on the ground, and she collapsed onto it, wrinkling her nose at the odor that accompanied her every movement. The cot couldn’t keep her interest for long. There was also a stove, which she knew better than to try to turn on without having Katniss look over first but couldn’t resist poking at for a few minutes, and a chair that only ever used three of its four legs at any one point. She spent a while trying to figure out whether that was because the floor sloped or the legs weren’t the same length and determined it was probably both.

Realizing that neither Peeta nor Katniss had joined her yet, she started outside to check on them. She stopped at the threshold, for just a few yards away, Peeta and Katniss sat at the edge of the lake, just close enough that the waves ran over their toes, his arm around her waist, her head on his shoulder.

Posy quietly moved back into the house, a smile on her face. Whether or not she learned to swim, she considered today a success.