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tasteleeknow-remade · 2 years

Text

— koala

pairing: chan x fem!reader genre: smut, fluff, roommates to lovers, soft!dom chan. content: 18+ minors dni. warnings below cut. word count: 4.3k

summary: your roommate is a very physically affectionate person, you're not. after brushing him off over and over it takes him going on a successful date for you to realise maybe the thought of him touching someone else like he did you was worse than anything. clashing love languages, jealousy and mutual pining.

a/n: i hit 500 followers a few days ago so i just wanted to say how grateful i am for the support! i created this sideblog to share a spur of the moment attempt at writing [prompted by the taste performance] and i didn't expect so much positivity. i definitely wouldn't have given it another go and kept writing more otherwise so thank you so much for letting me know you liked it! hope you like this too!

afab!reader. protected intercourse. jealousy. mutual pining. pet names. chan is very physically affectionate, that's the entire premise of this one, they are friends and its playful but reader is awkward about it! he's grabby and he lies on top of her etc.

You hadn’t grown up in the most affectionate family, your parents loved you—you knew that—but you could count the number of hugs you’d received from them on your fingers. You guessed it was for this reason you couldn’t help cringing away from your clingy roommate. Either he had a very different upbringing or he’d just been unaffected by it because he was probably the most physically affectionate person you’d come across in your life. He’d approach you from behind with no warning when you were brushing your teeth, doing the dishes, cooking, whatever it was. His arms would wrap around you, breath tickling your neck as he asked what you were doing, how your day was or announce he was bored. It was never anything important and definitely nothing that needed to be mumbled into your neck. You’d freeze whatever you were doing, waiting for him to let you go. “I’m obviously doing the dishes,” you’d answer prompting him to give a final squeeze before freeing you—wandering away as you recovered. Recently he’d taken to waking you up in the morning by stumbling into your room and collapsing on top of you, the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress. If you were lucky enough to be in a position where he hadn’t pinned your arms under him you’d attempt to shove him off you, often a completely hopeless endeavour. He’d free you when he was ready.

This is where you found yourself now; trapped under him—his face buried in your neck. “I can’t breathe,” you groaned, arms pinned under the covers. One of the unlucky mornings.

“You’re so comfy though, much more than my bed,” his mumbling was barely audible, his voice gruff. It sounded like he’d just woken up and stumbled in here before he’d even fully opened his eyes. You needed a lock on your door. You didn’t know why you hadn’t done that yet. Everytime you found yourself under him like this it seemed like your number one priority in life but then he’d climb off and you’d go about your day, letting the idea slip from your mind every time.

“Off. Or I’ll scream,” you announced. Often the only way was to yell in his ear. You didn’t particularly like starting your morning with a high pitched scream so you’d use it as a last resort, just the threat was usually enough—thankfully. He rolled off you with a groan.

“Why are you so mean to me?”

“Mean to you? You just marched in here and crushed me while I was having the best dream.”

“About?”

“Moving out.”

“See? Mean.” He rolled onto his side and grinned at you. “Luckily I know it’s all talk, you’d never leave me—you looovee me.”

“Get out,” you muttered half-heartedly, closing your eyes again. You liked his company. A lot. Despite his clinginess.

You felt the bed move as he sat up. He was silent for a moment before speaking, “I need your help.” You waited for him to elaborate, keeping your eyes closed—still sleepy. “You know more about clothes than me and I’m always wearing the same things so…” He pressed his finger into the middle of your forehead. “Hey, are you listening?”

You sighed and stretched your arms above your head, accepting you weren’t getting back to sleep. You propped yourself up on your elbows before speaking, “I was listening.”

“Outfit. I need you to help me pick out an outfit.”

You rubbed your eyes. “For what?” Your roommate couldn’t care less about clothes, everything he wore was black and he’d often walk around the place with hardly anything on at all. If you hadn’t seen his closet yourself you’d easily believe he owned two outfits total.

“A date,” he muttered, eyes fixed on where he was fiddling with the embroidery on your blanket. A date… he didn’t go on dates. Your mutual friends always teased him about his total lack of dating life. You’d been on two entire dates in the last six months and he made you seem like a total socialite. His hand waved in front of your face after you’d apparently failed to respond in an appropriate window of time.

“You’re going on a date?”

“I am capable of finding someone, believe it or not,” he huffed, looking a little wounded.

“I just…didn’t think you were…looking.”

“I wasn’t really…I guess. She just asked me out when I was getting coffee yesterday morning.”

“And you said yes?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

You threw your blankets off and climbed out of bed—stumbling to your ensuite bathroom to brush your teeth. He was right. He had no reason not to go on a date. You squirted too much toothpaste on your brush and shoved it under the tap. He’d probably said yes because she was pretty, a pretty girl had spotted him in the coffee shop and worked up the courage to ask him out. It made sense. You shoved the toothbrush in your mouth just as Chan appeared in the doorway.

“So you’ll help?”

You met his eyes in the mirror, he looked nervous—like you might actually say no. You nodded. It took one big step for him to wrap himself around you, mouth pressed to your skin. “Thank you,” he said, clinging to you a little longer than usual.

“Get off or I’ll change my mind,” you mumbled around your toothbrush, a little toothpaste dribbling down your chin. He finished with his customary final squeeze and then he was gone. Leaving you to wonder what she looked like, this coffee shop girl.

“Is it alright that it’s all black?” he asked, fiddling with his collar. You’d put him in one of his long sleeve collared dress shirts and made him tuck it into some black pants with a belt. It was much more dressed up than his usual t-shirt and sweats look.

“Yeah, just…” You reached to unbutton the shirt at his sleeves, rolling them up his arms. Your fingers brushed against his skin as you worked. You felt your cheeks warm. “If you roll these up it works for a day date, I think.” He was quiet as you moved to roll his other sleeve, it was rare for you to initiate any physical contact. You should’ve just told him to do this himself but it’d be awkward to stop now. You stood back when you were done, avoiding looking at his face as you inspected your work. He looked…really good. He turned to look in the mirror and fiddled with his sleeves a little before smiling.

“This is really okay?” he asked, meeting your eyes in the mirror.

You gave him a reassuring smile. “Yeah… yeah it’s okay.” His phone vibrated from where he’d tossed it on the bed, startling you. You grabbed the rejected shirts from the bed to hang them back in his closet while he checked it.

“It’s her,” he said as you distracted yourself with his clothes. “She’s leaving home now apparently.”

“You should go then,” you said, hanging one of the shirts back on a hanger. A hand on your shoulder made you jump. Why the hell were you so jumpy? You hung up the shirt and turned to face him, adopting a neutral facial expression.

“Can I have a good luck hug?” he asked, arms open to receive you.

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re asking?” You couldn’t think of a single time since you’d met when he’d asked you for a hug rather than just attaching himself to you with no warning.

His lips curved up into small smile. “I’m asking.”

“A short one,” you said, unable to resist rewarding him for his unusual behaviour.

He pulled you into his chest, the smell of his cologne overwhelming you. You were used to smelling his body wash when he was draped over you. He never wore cologne. You slowly lifted your arms to pat him lightly on the back. “Good luck then,” you muttered, prompting him to loosen his arms around you. Before you could pull away completely his hand moved up to hold the side of your head and his lips pressed gently to your forehead. You held your breath. He’d never done that before. You took a small step back and gave him a quick smile—failing to meet his eyes. Before he could get another word out you dashed from his room to the safety of your own. You sat on the end of your bed until you heard the front door close, falling back to stare at the ceiling as a heavy silence filled the apartment.

You were struggling to keep your eyes open as you lounged in front of the TV. He’d been gone all afternoon and now it was well past your bedtime. You were working yourself up to accept the fact he probably wasn’t coming home tonight. It must have gone well. You’d been fiddling with your phone all afternoon, contemplating messaging him. What would you say? ‘How’s it going?’ ‘Is she prettier than me?’ ‘Are you going to go back to her place to fuck her?’ ‘When you wrap your arms around her, does she hug you back?’ Hence the phone being buried under the cushion at the other end of the couch, out of your reach. You were delaying going to bed, if you went to bed before he got home, the reality of him sleeping somewhere else—with someone else— would become real. Your eyes were so heavy, it wouldn’t hurt to close them for a little bit…

A warm body pressing you into the couch cushions woke you up, the smell of Chan’s cologne still lingering on his shirt. How long had you been asleep? It was still dark. “What time is it?” you whispered into his ear.

“Just past 12 I think.”

Had he fucked her already? Been to her place and fucked the pretty coffee shop girl before coming back here to press his body onto yours? “Get off,” you said, voice just above a whisper now. He played his usual game, ignoring you. You started squirming. “Chan, get off me,” you put as much assertiveness into your tone as you could. He pushed himself up so his weight was off you completely, hovering over you still.

“What’s wrong?”

“Just get the fuck off me.”

He sat back on the couch, one leg tucked under him so he could keep his body turned towards you as you sat up against the arm rest. You pulled your knees to your chest.

“Are you alright? What’s wrong?” he asked again.

“Where were you?”

“We ended up seeing a late movie, didn't start till 10. I texted you.”

You looked down to the cushion he was sitting on, the one your phone was buried under.

“I’m going to bed,” you announced, standing up. “Can you get up? You’re sitting on my phone.” He reached under himself, swiping around with his hand. He stood up and flicked the light on before resuming his search.

“It’s not here.”

You reached under the couch cushion, digging your phone out to discover you had 3 messages—all from him and sent around 10pm.

“Why is it under there?” he asked, blocking you from moving past him.

“Move.”

“What are you so cranky for, hm?” He went to grab you, like he usually did whenever he pulled you against his chest. You grabbed his wrist.

“Just—” you sucked in a breath. “Will you just fucking move?” you snapped.

He frowned, stepping aside so you could escape to your room—shutting the door a little too hard behind you. Why were you so angry? The thought of him touching you like he usually did after touching her. It felt wrong. You climbed into your bed, pulling the blankets up to your shoulders. Guilt started leaking into your anger the longer you sulked, morphing it into anxiety. You hadn’t even asked him how it went, if he had a nice time. It was a big deal for him, going on a date. You stared at your phone on your bedside table for a while before giving in and snatching it. You opened the messages he’d sent earlier.

i think your good luck hugs must have magical properties it’s going very well

she complimented my outfit

gonna be home late we’re catching a movie

You climbed out of bed, throwing your phone down onto the mattress behind you. Fuck it. When you opened your door, the lights were all off—he must’ve gone to bed. You’d have to wake him then. You shut your door behind you, again—a little too hard. You marched to his closed door, hesitating with your hand on the doorknob. This was crazy, you were being crazy. Why were you being crazy? You dropped your hand just as the door swung open. Chan stood on the other side wearing only his sweats. He was silent for a moment—looking you up and down before speaking, “Yes?”

Fuck. Think of something not crazy to say. “I-I wanted to know what movie you saw.” Not great.

“Why?”

Why would you wake him up in the middle of the night to ask that? “Just curious.” Stupid.

“At 2am?”

It was 2am? You’d been stewing in your room for two hours. You’d lost it. “Nevermind.” You turned to leave, his hand catching you around the wrist.

“Why do you wanna know what movie I saw? Do you not believe me?”

“Why wouldn’t I believe you?”

“Because you think I fucked her instead.”

You sucked in a breath, studying his face carefully. “Did you?”

He took a step towards you, hand still wrapped around your wrist. “Are you jealous?”

“No.”

“No?” He studied your face before slowly pulling you into his room and closing the door behind you. You found yourself pushed up against it, chest first. The wood was cold against the warm skin of your stomach, your small tank top riding up. “So it wouldn’t bother you if I touched her like this?” He traced his fingers up from your wrist slowly. They trailed all the way up your arm to your shoulder where he brushed your hair over your shoulder gently.

“No,” you said again, less convincingly this time—voice a little breathy.

He stepped closer, pressing your body further against the door with his. His lips touched the skin he’d revealed on your shoulder. “I think you’re jealous. I think you're angry with me for touching someone else. Hm? I’m right, aren't I?” You shook your head, breathing shallow. “I didn’t fuck her,” he continued. “We watched a movie, I drove her home and I kissed her goodnight.” You frowned.

“Kissed her?”

His chuckle tickled your skin. “On the forehead,” he clarified.

“Like you kissed me…”

“No, not like I kissed you. That was different.”

You wriggled against him, turning yourself so your back was pressed against the door. He gave you no space to manoeuvre, keeping his body where it was right up against yours—your clothed breasts pressed against his bare chest.

“Why was it different?”

“Because when I kissed her I was being polite.”

“And when you kissed me?” you breathed.

He traced his fingers up your neck, palm coming to a rest against your cheek—his thumb brushing back and forth against your skin. “That was because I love you.”

You held your breath, eyes flicking back and forth between his as you attempted to decipher his meaning. Love…love as in his roommate who he loved as a close friend or…

“You love me, too. Don’t you? I wasn’t sure. Not until tonight,” he continued.

“I-“ Did you love him? You wanted to kiss him. You were upset and you wanted to kiss him, that’s what you knew.

“Mm?” he prompted.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling his mouth to yours. He relented, letting you taste his lips on yours for the first time. You imagined how you’d feel if he had gone home with that girl tonight, if he’d come home the next day and announced he was seeing her again, if he started dating her and you missed your chance. You imagined if you couldn’t have him.

He pulled away, leaving your lips wet. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes,” your voice was breathy as you panted, no hesitation this time. You attempted to pull him back for another kiss but he resisted.

“Say it.”

You leaned in to kiss each corner of his mouth before pressing your moist lips to his. “I love you,” you whispered against his mouth, feeling his lips curve up.

“Yeah? Even when I smother you?”

“Even then.”

“Can I smother you now?”

“You’re asking?”

“I’m asking.”

You detached yourself from him, ducking under his arms where they trapped you against the door. You crawled into his bed, lying back against his pillows as you approached you. “I’ve never had you in my bed before,” he smirked as he covered your body with his. “You’re always making me walk all the way to yours.”

“I didn’t make you do anything.”

“I stubbed my toe on your door frame this morning.”

“Your own fault.”

He took your hands in his and stretched your arms above your head. You’d never held his hand before and now he was holding both as he hovered above you. Your hands were always so cold, his warm palms felt like they were bringing them to life. Sex was never a partcularly intimidate afair for you; you’d never slept with someone you actually cared about—who cared about you. Loved you?

“Do you really?”

“Hm?”

“Love me.”

“You really didn’t know? I didn’t think I could be any more obvious.”

“You-I mean you never said anything…” You wracked your brain for any hints he could have given you. He never said anything, you were sure of it. He would never say anything important when he was draped over you. It was small talk. He was the only one who ever touched you that much but that’s just who he was. You thought that’s just who he was. “You mean all the…physical stuff?” You watched his lips curve up as he hovered over you. You’d had him over you so many times but with your mutual confessions still lingering in the air it felt altogether different.

“Yeah, I mean the ‘physical stuff’.”

“You’re just like that though, you’re… not like me.”

“I’m like that with people I love.”

“Oh…” One of his hands moved to bring your wrists together so he could hold both your hands with one of his. The fingers on his free hand traced your lips, which had fallen open slightly in realisation. “But… you’ve always been like that with me.”

“Mhm.” His fingers traced down your neck to the neckline of your tank top. “You’re not wearing a bra.”

“I was sleeping.”

“No you weren’t. You were stewing over me going on a date.”

You ignored his teasing, focused on his gentle tracing across your chest. “Was she pretty?” you asked, watching his face for any clue about his true feelings.

“Not nearly as pretty as you,” he muttered, sounding distracted as he released your hands from above your head. “Can I take this off?” He was playing with the hem of your top, his eyes fixed on where your nipples showed through the thin material. You placed your hand over his and guided him up under the hem, dragging his hand up your stomach to cup one of your breasts.

“Soft,” he muttered. You couldn’t help laughing a little.

“Yeah, have you never touched one before?”

“Not these ones.”

“Are they different from the others?”

He ignored your question. “Can I see them? Please.”

“Since you asked so nicely.”

You pushed at his chest with your free hand, still feeling a little awkward initiating contact. Ridiculous really considering his hand was cupping one of your tits. He sat back on his heels, hand retreating from under your top at the last possible moment. You took a deep breath before pulling your tank over your head, resisting the urge to cross your arms across your chest the second you tossed it aside. During your previous sexual encounters you’d felt a lot more confident, the knowledge that it was merely a physical exchange; that you didn’t really care what the person thought of you—it made it all much less daunting. You cared what Chan thought of you, a lot. You cared if he thought you were prettier than the coffee shop girl and so sitting there in front of him topless? Terrifying. You watched his eyes take in your bare skin and then just as you were lifting your arms to cover yourself he grabbed your legs, pulling you down the bed until you were flat on your back. He covered your body with his, his chest pressing onto yours. You sucked in a breath at his warm skin against your sensitive nipples.

“Always imagined how it’d feel to have you under me like this…” He had you under him like this most days, the only difference was that you were half naked this time. “Do you remember during that heatwave when you were walking around in that little dress?”

You did remember that day. It was one of the hottest days of the year and the power outage meant you were left to cool down with a cold bath and ice cream you’d saved from the freezer. A strappy nightdress—which honestly would probably be better described as lingerie—was all you could bare having against your sticky skin. You remembered it well because that night he’d fallen asleep in your bed, the first and only time you’d actually slept together. You’d woken up with him wrapped around you, your dress riding up between you. You hadn’t been able to look him in the eyes the rest of the next day. You felt your cheeks warm at the memory.

“You were…more touchy than usual,” you said, avoiding directly referencing the night he’d spent in your bed.

He lifted himself from his elbows to his hands, creating some space between your bare chests so he could see your face. “Was I? I just remember thinking you were the prettiest thing I'd ever seen.”

You tried and failed to hold back a smile, completely unused to compliments from him at all let alone ones like that. His lips curved up at your reaction and then they were on yours. He thought you were pretty, the prettiest. He loved you and he thought you were the prettiest. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down onto you again—a groan escaping him as you did. His lips on yours, your arms around his neck, his warm chest pressed into yours—it wasn’t enough. You wanted more of him. You wrapped your legs around him, attempting to pull him closer. He laughed against your lips. “Who’s the clingy one now, hm?”

“More,” you muttered, fingers gripping his hair at the back of his head.

“More?”

“Closer,” you said, desperate now.

“I’m not sure that’s possible, baby.”

You rolled your hips up into him, frustrated by the separation both your shorts and his sweats created. “Take them off. Please.”

“You’ll have to loosen your grip,” he said, giggling a little. He giggled. He giggled while you were desperate for him to take his sweats off and fuck you full. You released him, pulling your shorts down your legs as you watched him take the last of his clothes off. You’d seen his top half plenty, he’d walk around the place shirtless constantly. Anything below the belt? Well, that was new. He stood at the end of the bed, stroking his hard cock as he looked down at you. You still had your underwear on.

“Let me take them off,” he said, walking around to the side of the bed where he dug through his bedside drawer. He fished out an unopened box of condoms, tossing them on the bed before he crawled over to you. “Let me,” he repeated, hooking his fingers into your underwear to pull them down your legs. He moved so slowly you were tempted to reach down and finish the job, his fingers brushing along your skin the entire way. When he finally threw them across the room he moved just as leisurely to grab a condom from the box. His eyes were fixed on your cunt as he slowly worked one down his cock, taking pleasure in drawing it out. You tried to stay quiet, not wanting to rush him but getting more and more impatient by the second. You sucked in a breath when he pressed a kiss to your ankle, the start of a long trail of kisses he made all the way up your legs. By the time he made it to your cunt you were squirming, desperate again. He pressed one kiss just above your clit and you reached down to grip his arm, attempting to pull him up to you.

“Please….Channie…please…need you closer.”

He moved to hover over you, his mouth a breath away from yours. “How close, baby? Inside? You want me inside you?”

“Please.”

“You’re asking?” he smirked.

You wrapped yourself around him again, arms and legs pulling him down into you. He laughed. “Okay, okay. Just wanted this so long, trying to make it last a little, hm?” He reached down to grip his cock, guiding himself to press the tip against you. “Here? Where do you want me?”

“There…there…” you whined.

He pressed his lips to yours as his tip pushed into you. Closer. You moaned into his mouth. More. When he bottomed out you held him there, legs tightening around him. He was everywhere. He was over you, inside you.

“Don’t let go,” you whispered.

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annewithaneofthegreengable · 16 days

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Homecoming Daydream Part 2

Summary: With the power of Ferrari’s ghost, Enzo or whoever officiated me with a Charles Leclerc’s in Jesus’ form. I pronounce you, husband and wife.

Pairing: Toto Wolff x reader.

Genre: Romance, fluff and smut.

Author's note: This is a multiple-chapter Toto x Reader fanfic. Noted that English is not my mother tongue so there will be mistakes.

Part 1: Homecoming Daydream

Y/n hadn’t lied before. She wasn’t nervous about marrying Toto. Like at all.

At that moment, as she walked towards him, down the altar, she was overcome not by excitement but was overwhelmed with the sense of love. The sight of someone, and not just someone, he is, the man in her dream standing at the end of the aisle, patiently waiting for her. She felt like she must have been trapped in a dream, one that she silently prayed to never be woken up from. But as her tipped French nails poked into the palm of her hand, she realised that all these things were happening and they were indeed, 100% true. As she neared him, she could feel the nerves and butterflies disappear and be replaced by a warm feeling of peace and serenity. Like a homecoming. And she is indeed at home now and forevermore.

All she could do was focus on the heartbeat hammering away in her ears. Then, Toto’s warm hand wrapped around her own. Then, his face – his beautiful dark brown eyes so invitingly warm and intense, she felt caught in his gaze. Then, his gorgeous smile, told her just how happy he was. And slowly her heartbeat steadied, the deafening pulse quieted and she was gently grounded back into the moment with him. I am home, she thought.

And not a second too early, because as she caught Fred’s expectant gaze, she realized that they somehow must’ve gotten to the part where they would exchange their vows. Y/n cleared her throat. The words came so easily – because they were true.

“Toto. I must say this and I know it’s not a very romantic way to start a vow but I had a pretty much okay life before I met you.”

There was a low rumble of laughter in the crowd. Y/n smiled and took another deep breath before she continued.

“It’s not fantastic, just average like anyone else’s life out there can be, and I guess I was fine with it. With the thought of being a loner traveller in this lifetime. With the thought of never being the chosen one. Everything ate me up and made me believe it that way. Until I met you. I never expected to meet someone like you. I didn’t even think of someone like you to ever set foot in my life. Slowly, I get to know the beautiful person you are, inside and out. To be so lucky as to fall in love with you. I’ve found my new home, you – right here. And I couldn’t be more grateful to spend my life with you.”

She saw the moisture shimmering in his eyes and was sure that her own looked pretty similar. He smiled, before nodding at Fred and taking a deep breath.

“ Y/n, my life was pretty much like yours before I met you. Except for all the noise, the hustle lifestyle and the demands of everything in my life,... Too much that there were days I thought it was going to swallow me whole. That was until we came across. I didn’t know I could ever admire one’s eyes this much, and just hearing your laughter and being with you made me feel at home. You called me your home, Schatz. Well, you are mine, too. As you have given me your hands to hold, so I give you my life to hold from this day forward.”

Her heart beat steadily throughout his vows, but the tears that had been on the verge of slipping before now streamed freely down her face. There was nothing she could do about it. It was as though her love for this man poured out of her body because there was simply too much of it to be physically contained.

She was vaguely aware that Lewis stepped forward behind Toto and handed him something. Toto took the box and flipped it open, revealing two rings. Y/n gasped and swallowed an incredulous chuckle at the size of the diamond inside. Toto hadn’t proposed to her with an engagement ring, since he’d done it spontaneously one night, while they were still wrapped up in bed together. After, she’d told him not to get one, since she found a single wedding ring would more than suffice. Really, she should’ve expected that he would go above and beyond with it, knowing he would go feral in choosing her the perfect ring, with the biggest diamond, of course. He smirked at her reaction and picked the ring from the box, looking at Lewis expectantly. His friend chuckled.

“Okay, I feel kinda silly even asking after all of that, but here we go. Toto, do you Y/n to be your wife?”

“I do”, Toto answered, his voice even and earnest, despite his smile. Then he slid the ring in place and lifted her hand to his lips for a soft kiss.

“I love you” he whispered.

That steady pulse from before was replaced by a frantic gallop, her heart almost jumping out of her chest at the touch of his lips.

“And Y/n, do you take Grandpa Toto here to be your husband?”

There was another rumble of laughter from the audience, Toto however, acted as though he hadn’t even heard the quip, his eyes glued to her face, her lips. Waiting to hear her answer. As if he still couldn’t believe she’d agree. Silly old man.

“I do“, she said. Then she plucked the other ring from the box, a simple gold band, and took Toto’s hand.

“And I love you too,“ she whispered and slid the ring onto his finger.

They stood there and stared at each other, both smiling and silently crying, until Fred cleared his throat and even his voice sounded suspiciously tight with emotion.

“Well, then with the power of Ferrari’s ghost, Enzo or whoever officiated me with a Charles Leclerc’s in Jesus’ form. I pronounce you, husband and wife. You may kiss your wife now, Wolff.”

And then just only waiting for that moment, her husband did what he was said to do.

Everyone cheered, as Toto released Y/n just slightly, still holding her in his arms, as she grinned up at him. „Hey husband“, she whispered.

His heart felt like it had grown three sizes.

„Hey wife“, he answered, with a smile so wide it actually hurt.

The music turned up in the background and people jumped out of their chairs, charging towards them for hugs and kisses. Lewis was first since he stood right next to them. He clapped Toto on the back before twirling Y/n into one of his bear hugs, making her laugh as he lifted her off the ground.

“Welcome to the fam, Mrs. Wolff or you prefer it as Mrs. Mercedes. Thank you for saving us from the wrath of him smashing another pair of Bose’s headphones.”

“I’m more than happy too,” she answered with a wink towards Toto.

Y/n’s friends and family were another matter, alternately sobbing blended with screaming here and there (happy scream, of course) as they essentially pried her from his hands. She looked over her shoulder at him and gave a little shrug while rolling her eyes, before trying to calm everyone down. As dramatic as them all, she felt whole with them here today.

Half an hour later, most of the crying was done, and people had started mingling and dancing. And Y/n was finally back at his side, as he pulled her out onto the dancefloor for their first dance as wife and husband.

„I missed you“, she murmured, sighing happily as she leaned into him, slowly swaying from side to side.

He grinned.

„I missed you too, sweetheart. Almost broke that stupid rule and came to see you last night, but they almost sent a missing report so I pretty much couldn’t pull the trick of meeting at a secret place like Romeo and Juliet.“

“You want us to die. That’s not what I imagine a happily ever after ending is about, Toto. Did I just marry a crazy, old man?”

“You did not say that.” He said, completely serious.

“Is that so?”

“Just so you know, wifey. This crazy, old man here fully intended to fuck you tonight. you look so perfect in this dress. Makes me wanna fucking ruin you.”

She tilted her head as though she was weighing her options with a flushed face.

“Hmm. That’s the kind of crazy I can handle. And you also aged just fine, husband. Also, you've already ruined me. I can't go five minutes without thinking about your hands on me, our bodies intertwined.”

Toto cursed quietly, already feeling himself harden in his suit. Not an ideal situation, with everyone watching them spin around in slow circles on the dance floor.

“Oh, Schatz, you can’t say this in public without expecting me to get all hard up.”

Y/n hummed quietly and leaned closer, sliding her hand down his back and pressing her soft body against his torso.

“Rewards come to those whose patience, husband of mine. I promise you there will present for you to open tonight.”

After making the rounds, taking turns dancing with their friends and family, posing for photos and indulging in the food, Toto's patience was running thin. Although surrounded by family and beloved friends, Toto felt increasingly impatient. The wedding felt like an eternity and a huge distraction from the real reason they were all there: to witness Toto and his bride say "I do." He now started to wonder where his wife had gone since she disappeared 15 minutes ago.

“Have you guys seen my wife?” Toto asked Lewis, Sebastian and George.

“You really enjoy saying that, huh?“ George teased.

“I think she went upstairs to freshen up, maybe,” Lewis said.

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mydarksecretsig · 3 months

Text

draco malfoy one shot <3

summary: Y/n had developed an unhealthy obsession over Draco Malfoy, the blonde guy that's always mean to her. For whatever reason, she finds him really attractive. But what will happen when he finds out about this..?

warnings: smut, NSFW, vaginal sex, underage (with consent ofc), making out, unsafe sex??, loss of virginity

It was a typical Monday. Y/n was leaving her dormitory, heading to her Charms class. Everything was normal. As she was walking down the stairs, she could feel the coldness from the walls going through her robe, causing her body to lightly shake.

Soon, she arrived at the classroom. She entered, and found her usual spot next to Hermione Granger. She loved sitting there. When they took a test, Y/n always passed, since she could easily copy from the smartest girl of Hogwarts. But most important, it was the best point from which Y/n could observe Malfoy. She could notice his platinum hair and amazing features from lots of angles.

She never really understood why she felt about him this way, since he's always bullied her, about her looks, blood status, and whatever you could think of. But besides all of this, something about Draco just made her totally fall for him. Maybe because he acted authoritary, which filled the gap in her heart that was caused by her daddy issues.

Class began, as professor Flitwick entered the classroom. He began teaching something, but of course, Y/n was not paying attention. All she could focus on was Malfoy. She was staring lustfully at his pale, veiny hands, fantasising about what those hands could do, other than write.

Class passed quickly. Y/n exited the class, and began walking back to her dungeon. However, she was suddenly interrupted by a pair of cold hands grabbing her, one from her body, while the other was pressing against her mouth. She was pulled in an empty, dark room. Then the strange pair of hands pinned her against a cold wall. She realised that it was Malfoy, as he was now standing in front of her, pinning her there, his breath close to hers. "So is it true, Y/l/n?", he whispers, with a hint of tease in his tone.

"What are you talking about, Malfoy?", she asks, trying to seem rude, unbothered even, tho, deep inside this was actually turning her on. "You touch yourself? Thinking about me?", he asks flirtatiously, with a manner of genuine curiosity. Y/n is taken aback. How could he possibly know? Was he spying on her? "Who told you that?", she answers, totally surprised. "Your dear friend, Parkinson, if you really want to know."

Y/n is even more shocked. She opened up to Pansy the night before, telling her about the way that Draco makes her feel, and about her fantasies. Y/n thought she was a real one, but apparently, she was just a backstabber, like everyone else.

"I- I can explain-" , Y/n tried to say, but then Draco cut her off. "No need for that. I knew I was attractive, but I never thought I'd have someone fully head over heels for me." he smirks.

Y/n looks at him awkwardly, deeply attracted to the way his breath was mixing in hers. She also had no idea what Draco's intentions were.

"You know, maybe we could make those filthy fantasies of yours come true." he adds as his lips aggressively slam onto hers. Surprised, she follows her first instinct, to kiss him back. His minty taste fills up Y/n's mouth, as their tongues twist together. Draco's hands run over her body, as she lets out light moans, from the pleasure she's always dreamed of. He then picks her up from her waist and carries her to the nearest desk, where he places her as they continue making out. His erection was growing harder each moment, unable to wait anymore.

"Tell me how much you want me, Y/n" he says, breathing heavily, as he unbuckles his belt. "I want you, Draco. I want you to fuck me until I can't walk anymore." she replies as she takes of her skirt and underwear. Draco is satisfied with her words, as he unzips his pants and then pulls them off along with his boxers, revealing his massive dick. "Your wish is my desire", he speaks. He then enters her vagina with no hesitation, thrusting slowly into her. Y/n lets out a moan, since she was a virgin, and the dick was enormous, way bigger than she'd imagined it to be. Draco thrusts faster and faster as each moment passes. "Fuck, you're tight." he abruptly says. His right hand goes down to Y/n's clit, making slow and circular moves on it. "I- I'm gonna come" she moans, as she feels her climax coming. "Then do it, Y/l/n" he says roughly as he still enters and exits her now soaking wet pussy. As Y/n reached her climax, she moans loudly, which makes Draco to also come. He whimpers as he does it.

He then pulls his boxers and pants back on. Y/n gets up from the desk, putting her clothes back on. They were both still breathing heavily. "Same time, same place tomorrow?", Draco questions.

Taken a bit aback, Y/n stares at him a bit then nods.

They both walk out of the classroom, going different ways, acting like nothing happened.

#fanfic #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy #harry potter #draco malfoy fanfiction #smut #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy fic

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yjhariani · 1 year

Text

Tea

Simon 'Ghost' Riley X GN!Reader

Word Count: 2300± Warning: Profanity, cat Summary: Simon came to you asking for tea, but he was looking for something else.

For some reason, you did not see it coming. The knock came out of nowhere in the middle of the night. Based on experience, only Simon Riley would do that.

However, when you opened your door, you were face to face with someone else. A tall handsome man who looked somewhat familiar. His brown hair was a little flat, but it seemed that he was trying to tidy it up a bit, at least. You were sure you had seen him before, but not sure where or when.

“Can I help you?” you asked.

For a second, the man hesitated, but when he spoke, you immediately recognised his voice.

“I ran out of tea,” he said.

You were frozen, eyes widened.

Simon, who was only looking at you plainly, now looked at you with a little bit of concern. However, he was also trying so hard to hold back his smile.

“Do you have any?” Simon proceeded.

There was a train of cursing running through your mind. Maybe you were dreaming, after all it was the middle of the night. Maybe he was an angel or even a devil playing tricks into your brain whilst you were asleep because you have missed Simon quite badly since the last time you saw him.

“You alright?” Simon asked.

“I d—where the hell is your face? I mean, your face is there, I meant to say that your face is not, uh… you know, uh—what?” you tried responding, gripping the handle of your door.

The urge to palm your face had never been stronger. Instead of that, however, you went behind your door and closed it, trying to catch your breath and to slow down your heartbeat.

You were about to move on, but realised that you had not invited Simon in.

On the other side of the door, Simon scrunched his eyebrows upon getting a door closed on his face. Honestly, he always considered himself good looking even though very few people had only seen his face. The door made him think that maybe he was not as handsome as he thought he was.

He was expecting that you would stare and he would ask, Something on my face? Hopefully after that, you would say, There’s nothing on your face. Then you both would laugh. Well, you would laugh and he would smile at you because he loved it when you laughed.

Simon had to go with the other joke later, then. He just needed to wait for the opening.

Then, you rushed to open the door wide and his face loosened.

“Yes, I do have… tea,” you said. “Do you want tea or tea? I mean… do you want to—do you want just the tea or do you want me to brew some for you?”

Simon took a moment before saying, “I was thinking maybe we both have tea together.”

Hearing his voice whilst seeing his face felt almost weird. Sure, you had seen his lips moved and his voice came out of his mouth, but seeing his whole face gave out a different vibe.

Behind the mask of death and scary voice as well as the heavy, built stature that he had, you did not expect such a friendly, handsome face.

“Come on in, then,” you said.

As Simon stepped into your flat, he looked at you.

“Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Simon said once you closed your door, emphasising the later sentence in hope that you would laugh.

“You come to my door without your mask and that’s what you say to me?” you questioned.

“What else do you want me to say?” Simon asked.

You only looked at him, maybe for too long. Simon looked back at you just as long.

“You seriously look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Simon pointed out, in concern this time.

You playfully pushed him on the shoulder, but he did not move at all and only looked at you with a little tweak on the end of his lips.

In the brief moment of silence that you two had, another voice echoed. A gentle, curious meow and the furry little thing nuzzling against your legs.

Simon looked down and found a black cat with a white patch on its face. The cat had grown a little bigger than the last time he saw it, but he would recognise the cat anywhere.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Simon said.

“Turned out they’re up for adoption,” you chuckled, picking the cat up, but the cat kept looking at Simon and was actually trying to get towards him.

So, you handed the cat over to Simon. He did not take the cat at first, but you put the cat on his shoulder and he had no choice but to handle the furry thing. He immediately pet the cat, scratching the cat's chin.

“Are you actually here for tea?” you asked.

“I can’t sleep,” Simon admitted, cradling the cat in his arms.

“So, you want a cuddle,” you concluded.

“I never said that,” Simon stated.

“You do want it, though,” you continued.

Simon only looked at you. Smiling at him, you pecked him on the lips. Simon still only looked at you and his lips were spreading a little more. You smiled even wider.

“I do want the tea, though, love, if you don’t mind,” Simon said.

“Okay, sit down, I’ll make you tea,” you replied.

Simon leaned over and pressed his lips onto your forehead.

“I’ll help,” Simon stated as you walked your way to your kitchen.

“You’ve worked for weeks, just let me do things for you,” you said.

“What if you trip?” Simon questioned.

“I tripped once, lieutenant, let it go,” you said.

“You injured yourself,” Simon recalled. “You made me a nurse.”

“You made yourself a nurse,” you replied.

“You’re welcome,” Simon shrugged.

Talking whilst seeing his face was different compared to seeing his mask or half of his mask. You could see the way he looked at you even more clearly and it was doing stuff to your heart.

You both proceeded to prepare the tea. You set up the cups and let Simon take care of the tea. Hopefully he was not disappointed with the tea that you had. He still had the cat in his arms and he put his hand on the cat’s head, scratching the space in between the cat’s ears.

From there, you boiled some water and waited in front of it. Simon stood by you, looking at you.

“When did you arrive?” you asked.

“Barely half an hour ago,” Simon answered.

“Yeah? How’s… work?” you continued.

“It’s work,” Simon replied.

“Of course,” you sighed.

“How’s your foot?” Simon asked.

“It’s my foot,” you answered.

“Yeah, how is it?” Simon asked again.

Upon not getting an answer from you, Simon stepped closer. When you looked away, he led your gaze back to him with a finger under your chin. Said finger was immediately hugged away from you by the cat.

“It’s much better,” you finally said.

“Good,” Simon nodded, reaching for your hands.

Putting the cat down, Simon held your hands in between the two of you. Whilst he was busy looking at the pair of your hands, you were looking at his face.

Sure, you had seen the top half of his face and the bottom half of his face separately. You had an idea on what his whole face would look like, but this was beyond expectation. The way he came out of nowhere and did this was also unbelievable.

“Why now?” you asked.

Simon took one of your hands and kissed your knuckles. Behind your hand, his eyes were clean and exhausted. Nonetheless, he looked great.

Moments passed, he was not giving an answer. By this time, you had learned that there was no use fishing for any answers from him that he did not want to give.

Soon after that, you both returned to your living room with tea in your hands. Simon sat down, relaxed. You were leaning back against him. He took one of your hands in his, brushing the back of it with his thumb.

Ghost the cat had climbed onto Simon’s lap and curled into a ball. If Simon was in the mood, he would have cursed the hell out of that cat. He looked like he would.

There was something off. Something probably happened within the span of the last few weeks and he needed a little bit of comfort. You should have known since he said that he ran out of tea. There was no way Simon could run out of tea.

“Are you alright, Simon?” you carefully asked.

“I’m good,” Simon exhaled. “I’m fucking good.”

Not wanting to push him further, you held back his hand and squeezed it gently.

“Do you mind if I stay the night?” Simon asked.

“Of course not,” you answered.

Every time Simon returned to his flat from work, he returned to a dusty bed, instant food, and hardly any clean surface. He stayed hardly a weekend in his flat before leaving for weeks, sometimes months even. There was no way you would say no.

You had wondered, of course. Most soldiers would just let their job take them wherever they wanted. Sure, he might not be having a house in a base because he was not married, but it was not like he would be staying in a barrack full of other soldiers either.

Maybe it was the convenience of having his own bed even though it would be dusty every time he returned to it. Maybe he liked the idea of the actuality of going home. Or maybe he had invested a lot of his wages into this place; he paid for it and he would live in it no matter what. Maybe he wanted to see a different group of faces.

“Thank you,” Simon said.

“It’s alright,” you assured.

You both stayed there until even after you finished your tea. A soft pur from the cat hung in the background. Simon occasionally brushed his hand over the cat. Eventually, you fell asleep there.

Simon put the cat away before he carried you to your bedroom, gently laying you down on the bed and joining you. He held you in his arms and felt your warmth as he nuzzled his nose into your hair. He did not sleep that night, but at least he had steady hands now that he had seen you.

The cat somehow made its way in and climbed onto the bed, curling against Simon’s calf.

When the morning came, whether it was creepy or not, Simon watched you until you opened your eyes.

Waking up and seeing Simon’s face first thing almost felt like a slap in the face. It was not a dream, you actually were seeing his face.

You reached your hand out to his face, stopping when you saw him flinching. When Simon lightly gave you a nod, you trailed the outline of his face with your fingers.

“In case you don’t know, you’re handsome,” you weakly said.

“Why do you think I wear the mask?” Simon replied.

With a weak smile, you cupped his face, brushing your thumb on his cheekbone.

A sudden weight shift happened and there was something blunt and quite heavy stepping on your abdomen. With one hand, Simon picked up the inconvenience as he rolled to lie on his back. He pulled himself up to sit against the headrest and put the cat in front of his face.

“Fucking cat, you stay away from Y/N, yeah? I will fucking kill you ten times if—”

The cat cut Simon off with a whiny meow. Simon scrunched his eyebrows together, looking deep into the cat’s soul.

“Cheeky bastard,” Simon named and was responded by the cat with another meow. “Well, fuck you, too.”

Chuckling, you pulled yourself to sit.

“If he’s gonna stick around, you better teach him some manners or I will,” Simon said.

“He’s actually pretty quiet right up until you got here,” you informed.

Simon looked at you for a second before looking back at the cat who gave him another meow.

“There can only be one Ghost,” Simon said.

“I’m not changing his name,” you insisted.

Simon only looked at you smiling at him, but he proceeded to put the cat onto his lap.

From there, Simon pulled out his dogtags and dangled it in front of the cat. The cat was responding by clawing on it.

“I can’t believe you’ve done this,” Simon gestured at the cat whilst looking at you.

“I can’t believe you’ve done that,” you gestured at his face.

Simon dropped his dog tag. He grabbed your hand, kissing the back of it.

“I leave tonight,” Simon said.

“Well, now I have Ghost to keep me company while the other Ghost is away,” you replied despite your disappointment.

There was a hint of hesitation in Simon’s face. You could see his lips twitching upon him trying to say something.

“You’ll wait for me?” Simon asked.

Yeah, something was definitely off and there was no way you would know.

“Always,” you nodded.

Simon went forwards to kiss you. Just as his lips touched yours, there was a tiny paw slapping your face.

“Bloody cat!” Simon cursed. “You alright, love?”

“No claws,” you said, wiping your face.

Simon picked up the cat again, making sure he would not move as Simon kissed you again.

“I’ll go get us breakfast,” you said. “The old lady from the restaurant across the street asked me if Simon still lives in this building when I went there the other day. She said you used to come for breakfast.”

“God,” Simon sighed.

“In the meantime, you don’t mind sitting the cat, do you?” you continued.

“I’ll wrestle this fucking cat,” Simon promised.

“Sure,” you chuckled.

From there, you got ready to get breakfast before leaving to get them.

When you returned, you found Simon still in your bed. He was asleep. The cat was sleeping on his stomach.

For a while, you only watched them. You were glad that Simon was sleeping because he did not look like he slept when you first woke up.

Hopefully, whatever escape or comfort that Simon was looking for last night had been satisfied. Best to leave him to rest for now before he had to leave again.

@dragonstoneprincess @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @hao-ming-8 @here4thespice @fckwritersblock @unforgettabie @misshoneypaper @worldsworstpresident @oscarissacsslut @htm09 @efsa-lks @shoe1412 @itsasecrets-things

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

#simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost #ghost x reader #mind dump

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onceuponastory · 10 months

Text

last stroke of midnight - bucky barnes x reader

Plot: When a stroke of luck and a little bit of magic allows her to attend Prince James' royal ball, Y/N soon realises that they’ve met before. Pairing: Prince!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Warnings: Mentions of Y/N’s stepfamily belittling and degrading her, her parents dying, and her doubting herself. Classic Cinderella story stuff. Also, a little bit of angst bc it’s me. As always, if I miss any triggers, please let me know! Notes: My final entry for @buckybarnesevents Into an Alternate June-iverse Connect Four event! My final square was Fairytale, and I realised I haven’t written a Cinderella inspired story before, so here we are! This can also tie into the Royalty square I had, but I’ve used that already.

Not beta’d, so any mistakes are my own.

Slowly, Y/N makes her way down the hallway, the sound of her heels against the tiles reverberating around the room. Various elaborate portraits and other pieces of artwork stare down at her. Unsurprisingly, the royal palace is ornately decorated, ready for the hundreds of guests attending tonight. Y/N has never seen somewhere so beautifully decorated in all her life. When she reaches the end of the hallway, two heavy oak doors stand before her, the muffled sound of music and laughter from the ball seeping through. That’s how her life seems to be nowadays. On the outside, looking in. It’s still a wonder that she was invited to this ball in the first place. But Prince James ordered every maiden in the kingdom to be present, and who was she to deny a Prince’s wish?

Of course, if her stepfamily had it their way, she’d still be at home, finishing her chores. Honestly, she thought her dream of attending the ball was as ruined as the dress they tore up to force her to stay home. It was only then that Y/N learnt she had a fairy godmother of her own, who gave her a gorgeous new dress, a pumpkin carriage and a pair of glass slippers, making her look like a true princess. And now, Y/N is standing in the royal palace, surrounded by various noblemen and women, and royalty from all over the world.

And she’s never felt so out of place. She’s still waiting to wake up, for this happy dream to be over in the blink of an eye. Even now, she can hear her stepfamily screaming in her ears, forcing her to do all the household chores, as they have done every day since her father died. Treating her like a servant, rather than a human being. For so long, Y/N thought that was what the rest of her life was destined to be. Living as Cinderella, their idea of a nickname for her, rather than Y/N. Since her stepsisters took over her bedroom, Y/N has nowhere else to sleep at night other than on the cold tiles by the dying light of the fire. And each day, she wakes up covered in soot, which inspired the name.

Their voices and laughter still echo in her mind, even now. Belittling her and labelling her a mere servant with no potential. Especially for even thinking that she could attend a royal ball, Prince’s invitation or not. But here she is, at the royal ball. Wearing a gorgeous ball gown that shimmers like the stars whenever she walks, and a pair of glass slippers that somehow perfectly fit her feet.

Finally, she has a chance to do something else, to be someone else, even if it's just for a night… and she’s terrified to take it. What if they see right through her? Realise that she doesn’t belong here, that she never did? Warily, Y/N holds her hand out, her fingers tracing along the ornate, carved detailing on the door. But she’s made it this far. Surely that must mean something.

Suddenly, the doors burst open, and Y/N gasps. “I apologise, I wasn’t-” Apologising for everything is simply second nature to her now. At least, it is when you live with people like her stepmother and stepsisters.

“Ma’am.” The guard bows to her, gesturing for her to enter the ballroom. She steps back for a moment, taking a breath for courage as her heart pounds through her chest. Yet, her feet start moving without a second thought, leading her into the ballroom. She glides through the room, past everyone’s watchful eyes. Y/N can hear them whispering, wondering who she is, and she has to tune them out before she becomes too panicked and flees.

Until suddenly, the crowd parts like the sea, and Prince James steps forward, right towards her. The second she looks into his silvery blue eyes, she recognises him right away. “Hello again.” He chuckles. “I’m thrilled to see you made it.”

Of course, Y/N could never know that she was the entire reason he suggested inviting everyone in the kingdom to this ball. Since he first saw her, Prince James couldn't get her out of his mind and yearned to see her again. And the ball his parents insisted he throw to find a suitable wife seemed like the perfect opportunity to find her again. The sparkles on her dress twinkle in the light, and he can’t stop smiling the more he looks at her. She looks beautiful.

And yet, Prince James could never know that the main reason Y/N is attending this ball is for the hopes of seeing him again. Although, she had no idea he was the Prince in question.

The two first met when Y/N was at the market with her stepsisters, being bossed around once again. Thankfully, they soon stopped bothering her and went to visit the local dressmaker, granting Y/N some precious alone time. Once they left, she took some time to walk around the stalls and take in everything on offer. Just taking some time to do nothing. As the sun warmed her skin and the cool breeze blew through her hair, Y/N finally felt at peace again. She wasn’t Cinderella, at the constant beck and call of her stepfamily. For a few blissful moments, she was Y/N again.

Soon, she found a stall selling fresh fruits and vegetables, and her stomach began to rumble. That morning, like most others, she was preoccupied completing the other chores and making sure her stepfamily were fed. And that meant she hadn’t thought about feeding herself. All the food on offer looked so enticing, and she just couldn’t resist. She rifled around in her pockets to find the few coins that she had managed to hide away, hoping it would be enough for something to eat. As she did so, a voice cut in.

“No, please. Allow me.” She had turned to see a face with a pair of gorgeous silvery blue eyes smiling back at her. Before she could protest, he paid for some apples and handed them to her.

“T-Thank you, sir.” She smiled, gazing over at him. It had been so long since someone treated her with kindness that Y/N swore she could’ve broken down into tears right then.

“Please, don’t worry about it. I couldn’t leave a lady like yourself in distress.” Y/N giggled at that, her cheeks burning slightly. As they started walking together, Y/N glanced over at the kind stranger, her gaze tracing over every inch of his face. As she did, a feeling of warmth settled in her stomach. Of course, a large part of that was because of his kind gesture, but Y/N found herself attracted to him from that very moment. With the way his eyes sparkled whenever he laughed, and the way he smiled at her… falling in love with him was very easy to do.

They spoke for a while, as close as friends, despite only meeting a few minutes ago. “Forgive me if this sounds rude, sir, but I haven’t seen you at the market before.” The man laughed, adjusting the hood of his cloak.

“Is it that obvious?”

“A little.”

“Well, I thought it would be a pleasant change from my normal life. Getting out in the fresh air, meeting new people.” He explained. “And….” He looked over at her, smiling softly. “I’m glad I came.” Her cheeks burned, and her heart felt like it was doing backflips in her chest.

“I’m glad you did too.” She smiled. But before they could talk for much longer, the voices of her stepsisters filled the air, calling her and pulling her out of her brief moment of happiness. Sighing, her body slumped in disappointment. The handsome stranger raised a brow, concerned by her sudden change in emotion.

“Is everything alright?” He had asked, instinctively placing a reassuring hand on her forearm. For a moment, she considered telling him the truth about her life. But as her stepsisters got even louder, she realised she couldn’t possibly drag him into this, or let him hear the things they say about her. It’s bad enough that she gets to hear it day in, day out.

“I’m sorry. I better go.” She sighed. When she saw the man’s face fall, she regretted her choice even more. But she didn’t have a choice. “Hopefully, I’ll see you again, sir. Thank you again for the apples.”

And here he is once more, standing in front of her in all his royal finery, looking like a completely different person. He’s still just as handsome as he was that day, his eyes still sparkling. And of course, she’s sure that she looks a lot more different than she did that day, too.

“You’re a Prince?” She gasps. “The Prince?” Embarrassment flows through her veins, and her heartbeat rises. How could she have been so stupid, so naïve to not realise that she was speaking to the Crown Prince? The bitter venom of her stepmother’s words flows through her veins once more.

“You foolish child! To think the Prince would even want you, a servant girl, at his ball-”

“It’s quite alright. Please, do not worry.” He reassures her, placing a soft hand on her forearm and pulling her out of her spiralling thoughts. Just like he did that day at the market. As he does so, Y/N feels herself beginning to calm down once more. And a familiar warm feeling settles in her stomach. “I’m sorry. I should have been honest.”

Even after the complete bombshell that's just been dumped on her, she is glad to be reunited with him, too. She and Prince James stare into each other's eyes for a little while longer, each feeling their hearts beat faster and faster. For a moment, the crowds fade away, leaving just the two of them together. Despite all her anxieties from earlier that night, Y/N feels so at ease around the Prince. For the first time in a long while, she even finds herself smiling. It isn’t until the music starts playing again that they remember where they are. And the crowd is still watching them. Clearing his throat, he stands up straighter. “May I have this dance?” And once more, Y/N’s feet move forward without even thinking about it.

“Of course.” Nodding, she slips her hand into his, whilst he rests his on the small of her back. As his fingers brush along her spine, she gasps. Being in his arms feels so right, so comfortable. Every time his touch brushes against her, it feels like a spark of electricity throughout her entire body. She’s never felt so alive.

Despite how long it’s been since Y/N danced, being with Prince James makes her feel so at ease that she easily matches his steps. As they dance together, moving gracefully throughout the room, Prince James twirls her under his arms, spinning her around the room. Y/N honestly feels like she’s floating. For a moment, she forgets all her worries, and it’s as if she and the Prince are the only people in the room once more. In fact, it feels like they’re the only people in the universe right now. The fact that her stepmother and stepsisters are here, and are no doubt watching her with the Prince doesn’t even cross her mind. She could stay here for the rest of her life, in his arms.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After spending most of the night dancing together, Prince James soon invites Y/N out into the palace gardens for some peace, and to relax after dancing for so long. The cool night air hits her skin, and Y/N takes a breath. All thoughts of the time limit on her night, and her fairy godmother’s warnings seem to have slipped her mind.

“I must say, you are a wonderful dancer.” Y/N chuckles.

“Thank you very much, Prince James. Although, I did have wonderful company.” Prince James grins, blushing furiously.

“Please allow me to introduce myself. Properly, this time. My full, official name is Prince James Buchanan Barnes. Personally, I think it’s too fancy of a name, so my close friends and family call me Bucky.” Immediately, she drops into a curtsey. “Please, don’t feel the need to do that. It’s alright.” He chuckles. She’s still amazed by his refusal to treat her like she’s any different to him, or a different class, like she’s been used to people doing most of her life. In fact, he looks at her like she’s the most important person in the world. And it’s making her even more smitten.

“I just can’t believe I didn’t realise you were a Prince when we first met, Your Highness.”

“Please, call me Bucky.” He smiles. Y/N chuckles, and her cheeks burn even more. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth when we first met. The truth is, I enjoy going out into the kingdom and meeting the people. It’s surprising how easy it is to be undetected when you wear a cloak.” He laughs. Oh, she knows that very well. “And besides, I’m sure you understand. Wanting to get away from it all.” His words confuse her for a moment… until the penny drops.

He thinks she’s the same as him. A royal, disguising herself in order to escape her life. Of course, she looks the part right now, but it’s all fake, just pretend for the night. Her head swirls, her smile dropping. Is that why he wanted to speak to her alone? Because he thought she was something different, something special? If he knew the truth, who she really was, he’d never want to see her again. Embarrassment rushes through her, chilling her veins as her stomach churns.

“Is something the matter? Did I say something wrong? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“No. I’m alright.” She lies. Her mind screams at her to tell him the truth, that compared to him, she’s a nobody, just a simple servant girl. He’s been so compassionate towards her already tonight, surely he’d understand. But she can’t bring herself to tell him. This night has been so wonderful already, and she can’t ruin it now. She just wants one good night with the man she’s falling in love with. At least after tonight, she’ll never see him again. He won’t know anything else about her.

And that hurts deep in her soul, more than anything in the world. The universe seems to be set on constantly taking away every ounce of happiness in her life. First it took her parents, and then her freedom. And now, it’s taking Prince Bucky. But like she said, this is how it has to be. She couldn’t bear him seeing the truth, or seeing him letting her go.

“These gardens really are beautiful.” She says, hoping to steer the conversation away from anything to do with her.

“Well, that’s my mother’s pride and joy.” He chuckles.

“My mother loved flowers too.” She nods, thinking back to the flowers that used to adorn their garden, vibrant hues of pinks and purples. The bees and butterflies that filled the air, flying past as Y/N played with her parents. Life was so much simpler back then, so happy. She’d give anything to return to that time, when she had no worries or stepfamily. Although, being with Bucky is making her feel just as happy as she did back then.

“Well, she must have been a wonderful woman then.”

“She was. She really was.”

“And you’re right, they are beautiful. In fact… there’s a lot of beautiful things here tonight.” He smiles, and Y/N’s cheeks burn even deeper this time.

“Thank you.” She murmurs, a small smile tugging at her lips. “This has truly been such a wonderful night. And I never want it to end.”

“Then stay with me. Just a little longer” Bucky smiles, stepping closer. Y/N gasps, shaking her head in disbelief.

“I wish I could, but I can’t.” When he sees the tears shining in her eyes, Bucky’s brow furrows, noticing how panicked the woman is becoming. He sighs, not meaning to come across as so forceful, or to scare her.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t. Not at all. You’ve been nothing but wonderfully kind to me all night.” She sighs. “It’s just… a lot to explain, Your Highness.” When he hears her call him by his official title again, it registers a feeling deep within in his gut. At the market, when her face fell as soon as she heard people calling for her, he wondered what was wrong. And now, seeing her so distressed, things are starting to make sense. Whoever this woman is, she seems to be hiding from someone. Or something.

“If anything is wrong, I can help you with whatever it is you need.” Y/N chuckles, sniffling slightly.

“I wish you could.” She’s worried enough about the possibility of her stepmother finding out she went to the ball in the first place, let alone her knowing she spent the whole night with the Prince. But if she did, Y/N would take full blame for it. It would break her heart if Bucky was hurt by her actions. Y/N steps closer to him, gently taking his hands. “But the fact you even offered means more to me than you could ever know.” Bucky looks into her eyes once more, gently cupping her cheek. Even though he only met this woman recently, he already feels like he knows her better than anyone else in the entire kingdom, even his closest advisors. He’s falling more and more in love with her with every waking moment. And he wants to make sure she’s alright. He has to.

Suddenly, a sound pierces through the air. The sound of clock chimes. Immediately, Y/N’s blood runs cold.

“What time is it?”

“It’s midnight.” Everything hits her all at once, like a bucket of cold water has been dumped over her, chilling every part of her. Her fairy godmother’s warnings ring out in her mind once more.

“At the last stroke of midnight, everything will be as it once was.”

“I’m so sorry, but I have to go. Thank you for a lovely evening!” She gasps, breaking free from Bucky’s grasp and rushing back towards the palace, to her carriage before the chimes finish. As she runs through the gardens, dodging people left and right, she can hear Bucky calling after her, trying to get her to stop. And every fibre of her being wants to turn back and tell him the truth. She knows he could protect her if she needed, that he would in a heartbeat.

But she can’t take that risk.

When she reaches the steps leading up towards the palace, Y/N runs down them, adrenaline rushing through her veins. In her haste, she can feel her shoes slipping off, but she has no time to stop them. When the first slipper falls off, Y/N doesn’t go back for it, too worried about Bucky seeing the truth to care about a shoe of all things. She slips the other one off, clasping it in her hands as she finishes her descent of the stairs and climbs back into her carriage.

As it sets off, whisking her back to her ordinary life, Y/N glances out of the window. Bucky stands on the stairs, watching her go. And Y/N feels her stomach twisting, and regret fills her veins.

“I’m sorry Bucky.” She whispers.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The carriage only makes it a few miles away from the palace before collapsing completely, turned back into a pumpkin. And so, Y/N begins the long walk home, still clutching her remaining glass slipper. The waltz she and Bucky danced to replays in her head, and she hums along to the tune, moving through the steps in her head.

“It was wonderful.” She sighs to herself. “Better than I could’ve ever dreamt it.”

When she’s only a few yards away from home, the sound of hooves approaches, and Y/N ducks out of the way behind a wall. Peeking out, she glimpses them as they pass. Almost immediately, she notices the royal crest on the saddle. The feeling of hope builds in her gut once more, and she smiles. Bucky’s looking for her. He wants to find her again.

But just as soon as the hope rises, her anxieties sink in once more.

He’s not looking for her, some poor orphaned servant girl with no dowry to her name. He’s looking for the girl he thought she was. The princess, the wonderful dance partner. The girl who doesn’t exist. Sighing sadly, Y/N glances down at her remaining glass slipper, still glinting in the moonlight. A permanent reminder of the wonderful night she had…and what she lost.

But like she said, it’s better this way.

Isn’t it?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Your Highness.” The Captain of the Royal Guard pants, rushing into the room. “We looked everywhere, but there’s no sign of the mystery maiden. It appears she’s disappeared out of sight.”

Bucky sighs, nodding. “Thank you for trying, Captain.” He murmurs. He can still see the look on her face as she ran, the fear that something would happen if she didn’t leave immediately. It still makes his heart sink, even now. Nervously, he begins to tap his foot. Something is wrong with this woman, something in her life must be causing her great pain. He wants to find her again and to help her more than anything. The slipper sits atop his desk, sparkling in the candlelight. He picks it up once more, his fingers tracing around the heel. “A shoe made of glass.” He chuckles. “What a wonderfully strange woman.”

“Your Highness?” The Captain asks.

“Tomorrow morning, we commence a kingdom wide search for the maiden who fits this glass slipper.” He states. “No stone will be left unturned. Do you understand?” The Captain nods. “Good. Ready your men for the morning.” As the man departs, Bucky holds the slipper close to his chest, as if he was holding her that closely. “I will make this right.” He whispers. “I promise.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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#Connect4AU #bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #Bucky Barnes x female reader #bucky x Female Reader #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #marvel oneshot #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #prince!bucky barnes #princecharming!bucky barnes #prince!bucky barnes x reader #fanfiction #fanfic

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nomizombie · 3 months

Text

[rises the moon] 🌒🌓🌔(comforting boyfriend!König after a bad dream)

[SFW/Fluff/Comfort/wittle bit of angst?] ; he has a nightmare and you comfort him, self esteem issues, established relationship, gender neutral reader, no usage of y/n, written in second person, i lied i dont know how to write angst 🥲

[A/N] ; i just realised how the poll couldve been taken differently… sorry if yall were expecting boyfriend könig to comfort you!! (-_-;)

“Liebling?” A quiet voice called out from behind you.

You peered at him from the living room, eyes roaming over the giant man in your hallway clutching his pillow. You had awoken from thirst in the middle of the night, now reading a book on the couch to help your mind fall back asleep.

“Yeah? You alright?” You asked, a little worried by his body language.

When he didn’t respond you dropped your book, quickly rushing over to him.

“König? Something wrong?” You asked again, now much closer. He was breathing heavily.

He stared at you for a moment before averting his gaze and shaking his head.

“Oh- baby..” you clutched his face through his balaclava. He never took it off in front of you.

Through the dim light of the moonlight, you could faintly make out his teary red eyes, eyelashes still wet.

“Bad dream?” You continued, concern knitting your eyebrows. It was normal. Night terrors came with the job. He had been discharged for months but they still followed him. Every night.

He nodded meekly before dropping his head onto your shoulder. His arms wrapped around your body, enveloping it, caging it.

He was never one to talk about his feelings. Too weak. Too vulnerable. He was gonna get hurt if he was ever weak around you. What if you judged him? Hated him? You can’t love someone like him.

“No… its just…”

He took a deep breath. You could feel his weight lifting before resting back down on you.

“Sorry for interrupting your reading, Schatz…”

You placed a hand on his back, rubbing circles with your thumb. Your way of telling him that didn’t matter right now.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. Okay?” You spoke softly, like a little breeze flowing past his ear.

You waited for a response but instead he grumbled before sinking more of his bodyweight onto you.

“Tired?” You asked him, hand still on his back.

He nodded, humming quietly.

You slowly pulled him back to bed, arms still wrapped tightly around your middle. Even by the time you reached the foot of the mattress, he still refused to let go.

“Hey, you need to let go or else I can’t lay down.” You tugged on him gently. His eyes stared at you for a second before opting to pull you into bed. The two of you fell on your sides, his arms continuing their tight squeeze around you.

His body shuffled closer to you until his head was tucked into your chest and his legs were entangled with yours.

For a moment, neither of you said a word.

“It felt so real.” His weak voice spoke.

You pulled him a little closer. Wrapped your arms around him a little tighter.

“Yeah?” You replied softly, pressing feather-light kisses to his temple.

“…you got hurt and I- Fick- there was no way and-“ his voice cracked a little.

You rubbed up and down his back.

“Hey, its alright. I’m aright. I’m right here, König.” You muttered softly against his head.

“I know, but it was so real…”

He squeezed you a little tighter.

“Y-Your blood- it was cold… so cold.” He shook against your body, still struggling to inhale and exhale.

The two of you had had this night many times. Sometimes you were out and he would call you crying. Some nights you woke up to a sweaty trembling mess curled up into your side. And some nights, the other side of the bed was cold, with him staying up and watching TV to avoid sleeping.

You threaded your fingers through his hair gently.

“Just another dream okay? I’m always going to be here for you.” You smiled down at him.

He stared up at you. His eyes widening before crinkling as tears spilt down his cheeks.

He quickly pushed his face against your collarbone. Out of your sight. Hidden away. A bad dream was one thing. Crying in front of you would just be more embarrassment and shame for him.

“Sorry.” He said, muffled against your shirt.

“s’okay… it’s okay.”

The two of you laid in silence. His heavy, stuttering exhales and your soft breaths. He pulled his head away from you and looked up at you with his red, tear-stricken eyes.

You stared at him curiously. What was he going to do now?

He slowly reached a hand to his face and started peeling his balaclava up, before stopping firmly at the centre of his nose bridge.

“Can I…?”

You nodded. “You don’t have to ask. You’re my boyfriend.”

He pulled you down to him, awkwardly pressing a kiss to your lips before releasing.

“I’d probably be a mess without you.” König said under his breath, barely stifling a voice crack.

“Me too.” You softly smiled.

dividers by @mmadeinheavenn

tysm for reading! pls support me with a like or a reblog to this post if thats okay :))

#. ˚₊‧꒰ა 🧟🧠 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚#°˖ ⊹ ꒰✒️꒱ ♡#boyfriend!könig #fanfic #könig #könig call of duty #könig cod #könig fluff #könig x y/n #gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n #konig x reader #comfort #call of duty x reader #call of duty

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myfandomprompts · 1 year

Text

Dubious Headlines | Aemond Short Story (Part 3/3)

Aemond x Reader Modern!AU [Part 1/ Part 2]

Synopsis: In a world where Dragon Incorporation is the most powerful firm in town, Rhaenyra Targaryen's last announcement sends you, a journalist, to interview the younger sons of the family. However, you did not ask for any of this.

Warning: Fluff, but not only

You had a wet dream. Or at least you thought you had, it was all still foggy. The signs were there though, you had awoken abruptly, heart beating at a fast rate, slightly panting and more importantly, a sore feeling between your legs.

You sat up in the dark as it slowly came back to you, images of long silver-hair and a soft voice speaking into your ear as you heard yourself moan loudly like a distant echo.

When you realised what, or rather of who your dream had been about you shook your head at once, attempting to chase these thoughts off your mind.

You had a big day ahead of you and you needed a cool shower.

“It’s your lucky day!”

You stopped your typing to look up at your boss towering over you with a big smile on his face.

“It is?”

“Yes, a request came up, something about an art gallery opening in town, and they chose us to be the prime reviewers. I know you’ve been waiting for that sort of exclusivity for a long time.”

Why does this sound familiar?

“What sort of art gallery?” you asked warily.

“Specifically paintings, I believe. This came from one of our correspondents at Dragon Inc. From what I understand, it’s founded by one of their branches.”

Of course. It didn’t take long, it was only a week and a half ago that you had seen Aemond Targaryen at the inauguration. At least in the real world. For now you kept your emotions at bay.

“And they requested me?”

“Not you particularly, but who else would I put on the case than my best writer?” he joked, putting a paper on your desk and leaving with a proud smile.

“Yeah…” you breathed out as you looked at the info you needed, “Who else…”

It was a beautiful building, with large glass windows and high ceiling, and as you entered the lobby, worrying over the fact that you might be greeted by the quite cold assistant whom you had over the phone to make the appointment, you were relieved to see only an attendant sitting boringly behind a reception desk. You looked at your watch, ensuring that you were on time as you walked toward him to announce yourself, but someone came out of an adjacent door and you stopped in your tracks.

The sight of Aemond Targaryen appearing in your line of vision instantly made you think about the dream you had recently, making it very real for a moment. You got lost in the memory and by the time you had managed to get rid of one particular vivid image, he had levelled with you.

“Miss. L/N? Y/N?” he called again.

His voice made you snap out of your reveries and you realised that you had not talked at all since he had approached you. You tried to appear as natural as possible as you took control of yourself again, ignoring the fact that his hand was on your shoulder as you finally spoke, “Good afternoon, sorry-” you cleared your throat. “Thank you for having me, M. Targaryen. I hope I am not late.”

“Not at all, right on time,” he said, letting his hand fall from your shoulder to reply to your handshake. “And please, call me Aemond.”

His hold on your palm lingered far longer than necessary and you were unable to react, too occupied with the thought of how calling him by his first name would sound strange to you. Or maybe you would like it.

Yes, you definitely would.

“Very well then I shall,” you smiled as you took in your surroundings. “This is a very nice place. Do you own it?”

“My mother does. She uses it for her own private events and exposition such as this.”

You looked at the stone walls and warm lights that illuminated the elegantly decorated lobby, sighting only a part of what you assumed would be the exhibition room.

“Will your mother be joining us? I always admired her taste in art, she is a wonderful patron, I would love to have her insight on this.”

Aemond clenched his jaw, perfectly aware that you and his mother would have got along greatly. “Unfortunately, she won’t. I’m afraid that she had other matters to attend to. But she will be here at the opening.”

Your disappointed look sent a pang in his heart but he did not feel bad about it. He had told his mother earlier that her presence was not requested for your coming, that he would handle it alone. It was a calculated decision, one that he did not regret. You had come alone, so did he.

“Oh, that’s a shame…” you quietly said, taking your pad out. “When is the opening exactly?”

“Next week. Tuesday night.”

“And you need The Westerosi to advertise it enough beforehand for people to come to it, correct?”

“Correct.” Among other things.

You smiled at him, lowering your pen as you finished your note. “Alright, then let’s see it!”

Aemond returned your smile and extended his arm in order to let you pass, leading you to the exhibition room.

It was pretty big, warmly lit, contrasting with the usual bright lights of the museums, and you could only guess the length of the room because tall panels that were placed along both the walls and in the centre were hiding the end of it. You could see sofas and chairs placed here and there, surely to allow potential buyers to sit and admire the numerous paintings that hung on the walls and panels.

“This is quite the exposition, how many artworks do you have on display here?” you asked, walking toward the first painting on the left.

“Over forty. It is a few, but we have room for more.”

He was following your every step, arms clasped behind his back, watching how your mouth opened slightly each time you focused on one of the frames. “And will the exhibitors all be present next Tuesday?” you asked as you admired a mural representing two robotical birds over a white background.

“Not all of them,” Aemond said with a slight apologetic tone, “But enough so you have something to write about. If you decide to attend next week, of course.”

You gave him a side glance at his words, finding it amusing that he believed that you would not be returning. As if .

“You can count on me to be there, Aemond, I wouldn’t miss it. From what I see this is really worth it.”

He knew that asking you to call him by his first name had been a mistake. Now all he could think about was how nice it sounded and all the different ways he wanted you to say it.

You took some more notes as you asked him technical questions, about the choice of the artists, and how his own preferences and his mother’s had influenced what to display. “Do you paint yourself? Or your mother?”

“No, I hardly would have the time. And my mother is also just an observer, although she takes great pride in my sister’s drawings. She is the one with the artistic fibre.”

“Your sister Helaena?” you presumed, hardly picturing a woman like Rhaenyra draw in her free time.

“The very one,” he replied, following you as you kept advancing to admire the next painting. “Do you paint or draw?”

“Oh no. My grandfather was the painter, but apart from my aunt no one in my family can even draw a cloud.”

This was an obvious exaggeration, but it had the merit to make Aemond laugh. “I see. We all must find our talent in different places, I guess. I’m sure you have many skills besides writing.”

You blushed a bit as you examined a very small canvas, trying to see what it exactly represented. “I wouldn’t be so sure. I may write for a living but for everything else, I would call it hobbies instead of skills. Skills must be forged by practice.”

“I agree. To find in art what is worth admiring and what is not is a talent that we acquire over time, I’m just glad I had my mother to teach me from an early age the meaning of beauty.”

You had reached an area where tables had been placed among the panels, certainly intended for future glasses or food to be served for the opening.

You turned to him. “Because you believe that beauty is what makes art worthy of admiration? Not talent or its message?”

“Of course it does too, but we are mainly attracted to what we find beautiful in our eyes. Don’t you find yourself staring at something beautiful and intriguing longer than at something you don’t truly understand?”

You had both stopped walking and were now staring at each other, his gaze growing more intense by the minute as his words hang into the air, their meaning taking a whole new dimension. You felt your heart skip a beat.

“This... is an interesting theory from someone who hasn’t shown interest in any of the paintings he owns yet. Shall we test it? Show me the work you find the most beautiful to look at and I’ll make my own opinion,” you said, gesturing towards the many sketches frames around you.

But Aemond’s face lit up as if he had won the lottery, and remained perfectly still and silent. His eye was boring into you and you grew uneasy, asking yourself what exactly he did not understand.

“What are you doing?” you asked, a little confused.

“I’m looking at you.”

His voice had dropped several octaves lower and you felt your cheeks reddened.

“Why?”

“Do I truly need to say it out loud?”

He had scoffed, but his expression was serious, and you could not help but straighten as he got closer.

“A-actually I’d rather not,” you shyly said.

“Really? And why is that?”

“Because… if you do, I’m afraid that this interview will become very… unprofessional.”

He arched a brow but remained composed, taking several steps further, whereas you struggled to keep a straight face, feeling crushed under his gaze. He was closing in on you and you felt him reach out to your pad and pen in your hands to gently remove them from your grasp.

“And what exactly,” he said as he discarded your belongings on the table behind you, his face almost brushing against yours, “is it that would make this ‘unprofessional’?”

He was so close that you had to look up in order to hold his gaze because of how tall he was, without mentioning how good he smelled.

“By doing this…?” You sensed his fingers trail along the inside of your wrist and up over your arm, eliciting goosebumps all over it. He then went up to your shoulder, brushing your hair away from your neck as he cupped your cheek, his eye fascinated in the way your skin reacted to his touch.

“Or…”

He had only breathed out his last word, voice oh so very low into your ears as he took hold of your chin, slightly pressing his thumb over your lower lips, and you had to close your eyes in order to repress a moan.

“Aemond…” you warned, feeling your body ready to burst into flames.

He hissed at that, the sound of his name rolling out of your tongue sending electricity down his spine. He was enthralled by you, how you looked, how you felt, how you melted under his touch. He hadn’t expected to give into his desire so quickly, but here he was. He felt your hands crept up to flatten against his chest, looking for more contact. You looked, no, you felt exquisite.

“Tell me Y/N, tell me because otherwise I might be about to make a big mistake.”

You opened your eyes again, meeting his dilated pupils locked onto your lips, and you further grabbed the collar of his shirt to pull him closer, feeling the warmth of his burning skin through the fabric. Then his eye darted from your darkened eyes and to your alluring lips again, before strengthening his grasp on the back of your neck and finally closing the distance.

You could not register anything else around you apart from how soft his lips felt against yours and the way his fingers delicately brushed your neck, making a whine escape your throat as he slowly kissed you, his taste so sweet and maddening that you wondered how you had survived without it until now.

You did not know for how long it lasted, but by the time you had to part for air, leaving both of you breathless, you realised that your phone was vibrating into your vest’s inner pocket.

You heard Aemond growl as he heard it too, coming to rest his forehead against your own as he closed his eyes in frustration. “If you don’t take that thing off, I swear I’ll break it.”

You could only display a wicked smile on your face, amused at his impatience before letting go of his chest and reach for your phone, but your movement was apparently too slow for Aemond who unexpectedly detached himself from you and began to take off your blazer in a swift motion before tossing it to the side, your now silent phone with it.

Without wasting a second Aemond had grabbed you again and was kissing you more passionately than before, making you back off to collide with the table behind you and wrap your arms around his shoulders in order to respond to his eagerness. You tangled your fingers into his hair, enjoying the silkiness of it and making him groan into your mouth slightly, holding on to you tighter.

“I’m starting to believe that this whole reviewing thing was only a plan in order to get me alone with you,” you said.

He smiled against your skin, one of his hands travelling from your shoulder to your waist as he began to trace small kisses along your neck. “Maybe it was... In any case, I’ll still need that article published, positive or not. I don’t even care at the moment.”

You felt his mouth reach the junction where your neck met your shoulder, and you bit your lips at the delicious sensation.

“I’m afraid that I’m too… biased to write anything bad about it now,” you managed to breathe out.

His low chuckle resonated into your very being before he moved to your face again, his smirk hovering over your lips.

“Mh. And here I was, thinking that you were the very definition of professional.”

You gave him a fake offended look, smiling at his words as he leaned into you again. His kiss was growing more insistent, keen and you felt your body heat up.

“There aren’t any… cameras in here, right?” you asked timidly between two hungry kisses, thinking about the attendant in the next room.

“No, there are not,” he laughed, coming back to brush his nose against yours. “Why, afraid to cause a little scandal?”

You considered your position, stuck between the man you desired and the low table, one of your clothes on the floor and pretty aroused. It didn’t help that Aemond had taken hold of your hips and flushed you against him.

“The only thing I’ll cause is that if you don’t start kissing me again right now I’ll write the most scandalous article about you you’ve ever seen. Even your brother’s acts won’t be able to match.”

He was stunned for a moment before finding his composure again, his demeanour shifting into an intensity that was not there before and whispered:

“And we don’t want that…”

When he kissed you again, you concluded that now, it was you who owed Mathilda a favour. A big one.

I really liked writing this. I have some ideas for another part but I like how this one ends, and I have a million of other Aemond Oneshots ideas so we'll see!

@khaleesihavilliard@dollfaceyourfear@cecespizza01@julczimozart@missusnora/ @bb-swift@cbfvip / @depressedperson88 / @nitimurinvetitumsposts@this-is-a-bad-idea / @issshhh /@virginslut08 @boofy1998 / @tssf-imagines / @theeddiebrainr0t

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lavellenchanted · 3 months

Note

I love these snippets so much! If you're not tired of writing about them, what about Japril + 💗? :)

💗 Slow Kiss

The Fox Foundation Charity Galas were fun . . . the first two or three times April attended one. It had been a novelty then, getting to pick out a fancy dress to wear, guessing what sort of canapes would be served or who might be attendance.

It didn't take long though, for the novelty to wear off.

Sure, there's still the excitement of seeing some of the most pre-eminent surgeons in the country (and occasionally even the world) in attendance, but April rarely has the chance to pick their brains or talk to them about their latest achievements the way she would like to. Most of the evening is spent schmoozing the rich potential donors that the Foundation would like to make actual donors and they're very often more pompous than interesting. Not to mention poor dancers. Usually by the time the galas end, April's cheeks are aching with all the smiling, her throat's hoarse from talking up the foundation and her feet hurt from being in heels too long.

If getting those donations wasn't so crucial to the incredible work the Foundation was doing, she would skip them in favour of staying at home with a blanket and a good book. But they are crucial, and she can't leave Jackson to take it all on by himself. Unfortunately his face isn't enough to sway every donor, no matter how pretty it is.

She has, at least, managed to grab a few moments for herself tonight. The ballroom they've hired this year has several alcoves dotted along the walls that are very conveniently hidden from view by large, decorative potted plants and April's managed to slip into one so she can slip her shoes off for a few minutes. The cold marble of the floor is lovely against her warm, abused feet and she lets her head fall back against the wall and closes her eyes.

"If you think you're getting out of cozying up to Mrs Walker by hiding back here, you are wrong."

April jumps in surprise and opens her eyes to see Jackson watching her in amusement from the other side of plant.

"Shhh! Get back here or they'll see." Leaning out, she grabs his arm impatient and pulls him into the alcove with her. "I just needed a break, that's all."

"Really?" Jackson lifts an eyebrow. "So I don't have to remind you that I won the coin toss fair and square?"

They always toss a coin to see who will have to talk with Mrs Walker - a very wealthy old lady in her eighties who won't let anyone else get a word in edgewise and has an unfortunate case of bad breath to boot. Whoever goes to try and charm a little more cash out of her inevitably has to spend an hour listening to rambling on about how different the city is now to when she was a girl and an excruciatingly detailed report of her cat's health.

April pulls a face. "No, I will go and talk her. Just . . . not now."

Jackson laughs and looks around at her hiding spot. "I never realised you could even get back here. I just saw you disappear behind the plant. I thought maybe you'd found a hidden passage or something."

"I wish," she sighs, and he smiles softly at her and she knows he knows she's thinking about her childhood dream of being Nancy Drew (April can't wait until Harriet's old enough to start reading them). "But it's still fun. Makes me think of old movies or books where they're spying on people, or shady deals are happening. We could be getting up to anything back here."

"Anything?" Jackson repeats suggestively and April feels herself flushing.

"You know what I mean."

He just steps closer, so that he's leaning over her and she has to lean right back into the wall to look up at him; suddenly the alcove feels much smaller and warmer than it did a moment ago, but April can't say she minds, not when Jackson's eyes are darkening in that tell-tale way and trailing slowly down her body, making her heart race.

"Maybe, but I can think of much better things to do back here than spy on someone else." One of his hands comes up curl around the back of her neck, his thumb lightly stroking over her cheek. "Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?"

"No, I don't think so," April point-blank lies, because he told her she looked gorgeous before they even left home. She'd been very pleased; tonight's the first time she's worn this dress, a strapless number of dark green silk that's fitted to her hips and then falls in a loose skirt to the floor with a slit up to her knee. And she's been hoping that Jackson will enjoy taking it off her when they get home.

He grins and bends down closer, so his nose grazes hers and his lips are so close she can feel the warmth of his breath as he whispers, "You are very, very beautiful."

"You think so?"

She brings her hands up to his hips, finding the belt loops on his pants and using them to pull him even closer.

"I do."

He closes the space between their lips bit by bit, pulling back teasingly every time she pushes herself upwards to try and speed things along, chuckling when she actually makes a noise of frustation.

"So impatient," he murmurs, and then finally kisses her.

With the hand on her neck he tilts her head to find the deepest angle possible, moving his mouth against hers in one long, steady stroke. His tongue sweeps out over hers, sure and purposeful, and he captures her bottom lip his teeth, and it's a good thing April's already backed up against a wall because already her knees feel weak and she's completely breathless.

He kisses her like they're not hiding behind a plant at his Foundation's biggest event of the year, but like they're at home and he has all the time in the world to kiss her thoroughly, until her body's on fire and she's desperate to feel his skin against hers.

Maybe he does take all the time in the world; she's not sure how long he kisses her for before he finally pulls back, leaving her panting and just a little dizzy.

He looks out of breath himself, his pupils wide and his chest heaving as he looks down at her.

"How long do you think we can stay back here before they notice we're gone?" he asks.

"I don't know," April replies, "But I'm up for finding out if you are. If you don't mind me taking a little longer to get round to talking to Mrs Walker."

"She can wait," Jackson says decisively, and bends down to kiss her again.

#thanks for the prompt!!#sorry for the delay it was a busy weekend #japril #jackson avery #april kepner #otp: I want the whole damn thing #my fic

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barcaluvv · 3 months

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𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 ˢᵉᶜᵒⁿᵈ ᶜʰᵃᵖᵗᵉʳ! 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐍 I woke up the next morning, a little later than usual. Sunbeams peeking through my cheeks who were still blushing from yesterday's situation, it seemed like they can't forget about the one who made them like this.This morning felt strange, there was no noise to be heard, Hector wasn't shouting around the house anymore, everything felt like a new start for me. To be honest I don't know what emotion is running up against my will right now, am I in love or am just dreaming? It fits more to be one, a dream, like according to what people who once were in love said "We are dreaming of those we don't have". If you told me exactly a week before everything happened that I'm awfully relating to this I wouldn't believe. I'm feeling scared and mostly concerned about Hector, we haven't talked since yesterday it's been a while really. Speaking of Hector, why didn't he wake me up to take him to his training? Maybe he didn't like yesterday's situation? What is he facing inside that dressing room? Are they having a tough time in there? Those scandals can take big influence on the team and their profit. I looked myself in the bathroom mirror while a few tears shed down my face trying to think of a valid solution that's not including staying in and hiding from the world. IIn addition to all these thoughts, I was mostly focused on the only thing and that i was wondering about whether the number 6 is doing okay, how is he coping with all of this.

After a while Hector came home, taking slow steps towards me and then fastening his walk taking a turn to his room, still not saying a word to each other. The next thing i heard was the gurgling of my bowels, I realised I didn't eat so I made us both dinner, I knocked on his door feeling numb all of a sudden.

I felt like the house was spinning but everything remained calm.

He didn't end up opening his room door, instead he texted "Tengo partido mañana, tienes que venir, alguien te necesita" which he invited me to watch him and his team mates play. The last part of the sentence sounded like someone out there needed me. The next day happened pretty quickly, it was the same but with intense more stage fright because of the game. The questions about number 6 were going through my mind obviously I was worried. When we got there, a lot of fans started to bang on the tinted glass window, sending me death treats, saying something like that I don't deserve him, I ruined his career...etc

those words pierced my soul, my voice became wobbly and I remained silent once again the world won. After a while they went somewhere else and I managed to get out of the car without getting hurt I mean physically, mentally I'm already pretty much hurt.

On my way to the gate I was hurrying, i didnt look where i go just suddenly my face gets on someone's chest, his scent was incredibly good, and while looking up, I see no one but the brown haired boy, Pablo I said to myself.And this is the moment when I experienced falling in love for the second time each again for the same person. We both smiled and I immediately apologised for ruining his shirt since all of my makeup was pressed against him. he didn't even have time to address me, a bunch of fans with ogeom signs were running towards us. He didn't even wait a bit, he pulled my hand and we ran for a while of course from them, when they finally lost sight of us, we found ourselves behind a small blunt bush that was nearby. I was breathing very loudly, skipping a heartbeat, the next thing I remember is our lips pressed together, at that moment I felt our sparks blooming. He slowly pulled out looking right into my eyes and saying "I'm going in again so don't be surprised when I do this" he pulled in and I can say there was intimacy in hesitance, hovering hands above my cheeks prodding the statement I let out a single nod. That so many bothered to say. A gentle brush of two lips, feeling a butterfly explosion right pressed onto my stomach, and delicate trembling of my fingertips, followed by the overwhelming, immediate relief from the heavy brick I had on my heart, it became pure. Perhaps not the first kiss but the first kiss I wanted. All of my worries disappeared as soon as our hands touched, despite his hands being cold from the wind also going through my hair i felt safe after a long while of not being. We turned back in silence and reached the stadium again, where the game was supposed to start in a few minutes. Me and Hector were still not talking, but I let a smile to him out wishing him a good luck. I still haven't seen number 6 for 20 minutes now and were already 10 minutes into the match. Not losing any hope, broad shoulders finally entered the field. The smile on my face widened, but the fear in my stomach has deept, and as always my expectations are coming to life. The next thing I saw was Pablo on the field laying in pain, holding back his screams while his arm Is pressed on his mouth, as the noises were trying to escape he didn't let them win, my heart began to ache, not like the ache you feel between your eyes or the ache in a tooth when u have cavity, my heart aches likes there's one million people tearing at its most tender places, I started to panic, then I sinked seeing first aid as they carry him from the field. without any hesitation i rushed towards him, pushing thousands of people to get through. Please Pablo say something, are you okay!?

It's going to be fine okay!! I kept saying that. I pressed myself against him and I held him in my arms tightly never planning of letting go "am I hurting you Pablo" I asked with a shaky drabbled voice.

Only if you stopped said the brown haired boy while holding my hand in disgrace.

I glanced at the game and noticed Hector and the other Barcelona players looking carefully at the cart, they clearly couldn't focus on the match. I saw Pablo glancing at them too back an forth. Minutes after his team mate and also one of my Friends Ferran scores and dedicates the goal to Gavi, pablo saw all this because the cart was facing the field, he slightly sends out a beautiful smile , full of spark and longing.

Three weeks passed by, I haven't heard of Gavi since he got injured, but somewhere on the news I read that he is back on the field. Plus me and Hector are still on weird conversations. My main questions are, is he doing okay, and when will I see him again. Wondering when will our eyes meet and create a magnificent bond that can't be expressed through words. I still replay our kiss in my head, over and over again, making it seem like a movie with no ending, the movie that you recommend everyone to go search for it. But that's really not the only thing that I should be worrying about I literally have an event, slightly bigger one though so I have to carry on with the look. Later that day, I sat by the closet, constantly looking for that one dress, I was about to give up but suddenly something sparkly chatched my eye, if it is what I think it is then yeah I found it. After hours of trying, I finally found it! The dress was long with refined zircons around the neckline, in simple words it looked like it came out of a fairy tale, she had long sleeves and a set of gloves of the same color and material. I'm so excited to wear it! Naive me thinking nothing can possibly go wrong until... That day came, I entered the event with a straight head and a confident walk, I walked on the red carpet without looking from the side until, meanwhile, the cameras started rolling and the person I most wanted to see appeared at the door of the event. Pablo, it's him. It was the same thing that the cameramen repeated after every step he took, man he looked powerful. After some time spent, a journalist started questioning me about my and Gavi's so-called relationship, I kept silent while my heart wanted to explode, it had so much words to say but didn't.

Basically he ignored me the whole time, he didn't dare even to look at me. What a jerk, said this to comfort myself.

The Pain, I never expressed it potentially, I never screamed and jumped about it, never bawled and wept but the pain I felt was still. My heart was aching but never too loud, no one ever heard, I didn't allow anyone to, it itched and felt numb inside of me but in reality, it never went away. His smile was permanently plastered inside of my mind, the moment, too short but never enough to go out. But now it's 2:45 am, instead of sleeping I'm trying to find the words to explain how my world looks without you in it. Pablo, its like i became allergic to that name,or was I just tired of missing it? 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐄𝐃...

#pablo gavi #gavi x yn #fc barcelona #hector fort #gavi fluff #gavi x reader #gavi #love

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thetrashqueeeen · 3 months

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Effie was rescued from the Capitol prison at the exact moment Haymitch vomited into a metal basin and wished for a drink. They didn’t recognise her, so they scooped her unconscious body up, assuming she was a victor they didn’t know well. She was entirely boneless and floppy in the soldiers arms, and he wasn’t careful. As he carried her back onto the aircraft, her head smacked painfully into a doorframe, rousing her as he deposited her onto a gurney. The grey metal around her made her think she was in an interrogation room. Interrogations hurt. Nobody even bothered asking her questions anymore, they just hurt her over and over. She curled into the smallest ball she could and tucked her head into the space above her knees. She spent the flight back to 13 waiting for the pain to start. Her nose had started bleeding when her head had connected with the door, and the wet, metallic taste of blood enveloped her.

When they got there, they had to wheel her into the hospital wing. Her position had relaxed slightly, her arms looped loosely around her drawn up knees as she lay on her side. She didn’t know where she was going, but she knew whatever they were doing didn’t hurt right now. When the bed stopped, doctors and nurses came in to check her over, leaning down to look into her wide, unblinking eyes. She was almost entirely catatonic as far as they could tell, and nobody knew who she was.

Prim walked into the room, looking over at the poor soul on the bed. She was emaciated and dirty, cuts and bruises all over her skin. Her hair was nothing more than a dirty matted clump on her head and she was curled into a loose ball on her side. She was completely still and Prim paused for a moment to watch the gentle expansion of her back, making sure she was breathing.

“We need to get this one down to psych” the doctor said to Prim in an offhand manner, referencing the mental facility far underground

“It looks like she needs us” Prim couldn’t help but say

“She’s completely unresponsive” the doctor replied in a clipped tone

“Have you tried talking to her?”

“I have a medical wing full of people happy to engage with treatment, I don’t have time to coddle someone into it”

Prim walked over and rested one hand on the woman’s arm, and reached the other one to the bed control. She didn’t look at her as she said she was going to raise the bed and she needed her to sit up so they could give her medical care. Effie complied with the voice that pulled a faint string in her mind. She didn’t know how long she had been in that place, but her life before had a dream-like quality now, like it never happened. She had buried her name deep inside herself when time became either her screams or someone else’s. As she sat up, she glanced at the girl with the voice and the name ‘Prim’ slotted into her head. Prim didn’t recognise her at first, startled by the sight of fresh blood dripping out of her nose and crusting onto her chin.

“She’s not crazy, she’s just scared” Prim asserted, shocked by her own boldness.

Now the woman was sat up, Prim began to do a quick primary survey to see if there was anything critical they needed to prioritise, thankful to find nothing. It was when she picked up some wet gauze to clean her bloodied face that she recognised her. Prim looked finally into the bright blue eyes on the thin, dirty face of the woman before her and immediately knew it was Effie.

“Oh my god, Effie” she said without realising, horrified at the state she was in

“Trinket?” The guard by the door grunted in question “she’s an escort?” He finished, taking a menacing step forward as he reached for his gun

Most people would have let the soldier take her, but Primrose Everdeen wasn’t most people. Effie might have called her name that fateful reaping day, but she had also fussed over her every moment since. Effie had brought toys for her cat and ribbons for her hair. She had slipped her chocolates when nobody was looking and listened enraptured to her little girl stories and dreams. Effie had encouraged her to be a healer. She wasn’t letting them anywhere near her.

“She’s on the list” she said lowly and sharply, spinning around to face him “if you’ve got a problem take it up with the mockingjay” she wasn’t sure if Katniss actually had put Effie on the list, but she hoped it wouldn’t get back to her before she could brief her.

The soldier looked at her with reproach and then left the room, presumably to search out a commander to advise. She turned back to Effie and picked her gauze back up, gently holding the bottom of her face with one hand, while she dabbed the blood off with the other. She didn’t say much as she worked, but as she finished, she kept Effie’s face cupped in her hand a moment longer than she needed to

“You’re safe here. I promise.”

The next few hours passed in a flurry of medical testing. They took X-Rays of her bones and scans of her head. She was placed on a weighing scale and measured all over and then put in another machine that decided how malnourished she was. She wondered if the scans saw the snakes that now writhed in her skull, or if the scale included the weight of her screams or not. She wondered if her own or other peoples screams were heavier. Her nose began to ache and she shivered in the thin grey hospital gown someone had manhandled her into. She felt very glad to be deposited back onto her bed and told to stay there. She hadn’t spoken a single word. It was far too soon when Prim came back in, the mean doctor from earlier trailing behind her.

“She’s got several healed fractures and her left arm has an active break in both the ulna and the radius” Prim began, shocking Effie. Her arm didn’t hurt that much at all, how could it be broken?

“She has a mild case of pneumonia from the cold, but her white count is very elevated so that’s probably not the only infection she has” Effie thought of the coughs she heard from other cells. They were so loud and hacking that she sometimes prayed they would die quickly.

“There’s evidence of several previous concussions, but the MRI showed no long term damage” she remembered the sound of her head bouncing off the floor of her cell as they threw her prone body back in after interrogations

“She’s also extremely malnourished and dehydrated and…” Prim paused slightly “we think she might have fleas or lice maybe” Effie closes her eyes with shame.

“What’s your course of treatment?” The doctor asked Prim

“Well we need to get her clean, and then we need to get her on fluids with electrolytes and broad spectrum antibiotics. Then she needs a cast on her arm and a standard refeeding ration”

“And shave that head” the doctor added, gesturing towards Effie “it’s a lice haven in there”

Effie had swallowed her words long ago. She had bitten them, chewed them and dragged them down her own throat like broken glass. She would scream like everyone else, she would scream up her ruined throat with every crack of searing pain that sizzled on her skin, but she did not talk. The first guard that had stalked up to her in her cell, that she had been stupid enough to try and convince to let her go, that covered her mouth as he did unspeakable things to her, he had been the last person to hear a word from her mouth. But this doctor, who listened without compassion to the list of ways her body failed, and then thought it ok to shave her head, made her brave. The words had tripped out of her mouth without her even realising. She heard them like they had come from someone else

“Please don’t take my hair” she startled at the sound of her own voice “I just need a comb and conditioner, I can fix it” it was like the words were a river, bubbling up inside her and flowing out without her permission “just please don’t shave my head”

She saw the doctor look at her reproachfully, a battered women with matchstick arms, one of which was broken apparently, who had only managed one stuttering sentence since she’d been here. It wasn’t looking good.

“I’ll do it” Prim said quietly, as the woman drew breath to say no “she needs a bath anyway, I might as well try. If I can’t I’ll shave it myself, I promise” she finished, her voice taking on a pleading tone.

“Fine” the doctor said with exasperation “it’s not like we have an entire wing of patients needing treatment” she muttered as she left the room, slamming the door behind her.

Prim went into the small ensuite and ran the bath as hot as she could, pouring copious amounts of carbolic soap into the water until it turned cloudy pink. Once the bath was full she went back to the main room, expecting Effie to need help. She was shocked to find her perched on the edge of the bed already, waiting for her to return. When she got close enough, Effie reached out and grabbed her hand, squeezing it tightly as she gave her a grateful look. Prim squeezed her hand back and then let go as Effie got down and began to hobble towards the door. As they stood next to the bath, Effie shakily untied her gown and dropped it. The person who had manhandled her into it had given her a soft pair of boy shorts and a sports bra first, which she now found herself thankful for. When the gown dropped away from her, Prim had to stop herself gasping. She could see every single one of Effie’s vertebrae stacked one on top of the other like marbles. Even through the dirt, her bruises were dark.

“You can keep your underwear on if you like” she said gently, noticing Effie was stock still and shaking a little “you’ll get clean either way”

Effie didn’t say anything, but climbed into the gently steaming water, the heat leeching deep into her soul. God it had been so long since she’d been warm. Prim sluiced water over her head using a plastic cup and then handed her a sponge

“While I tackle your hair, why don’t you start cleaning the dirt off. The soap is antiseptic so all your cuts will get clean”

She began to lather conditioner into the mess as best she could and then started to prise it apart with a wide toothed comb, careful not to pull too hard.

“I didn’t realise you had so much hair under those wigs all these years” she said she she began to tease some of the length out. Effie had finished washing herself a long time ago by this point and her skin was lightly pink from scrubbing.

“Most people don’t” she replied quietly, still getting used to to the sound she made when she talked. She thought her voice might be hoarse from lack of use, but it sounded just the same as before. With every pull of the comb she was quietly excavating herself from the place she’d been buried.

“When I was small, I had little golden ringlets” she said, drawing her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on top of them. Prim shifted forwards slightly to compensate for this and stayed silent, allowing her to continue “I loved them so much, I used to sit for hours and comb through them in the mirror, watching them shine. When I was… I don’t know- maybe 5? My mother took me with her to the wig shop, I was so excited because she would usually shoo me away. When we got there, she held me down as the shop assistant shaved all my beautiful golden ringlets off. I screamed and screamed, thinking it was the worst thing that could ever happen” she paused briefly, the enormity of the awfulness that had befallen her swelling up in the room “and then, when it was over, I was given a wig that was just like my own hair. I cried and asked my mother why I had to wear a wig and she told me the wig was shiner, bouncier, better than my own hair. From then on my hair was shaved by my mother once a fortnight until I moved out. When I went, I didn’t mean to let it grow, but I was so busy that it kind of got away from me. One morning, I stood at the bathroom mirror with a razor, ready to do it, and I remembered those little golden ringlets on the floor of the wig shop. I couldn’t do it after that. I pinned it under my wig cap, and then when it got even longer I learned to braid and would wind them around and around to keep them out of sight” she finished.

Prim had managed to pull out the entire mess in the back of her hair and combed the lice out in the time Effie had been speaking. Her heart felt squeezed inside her chest as she listened to her, so desperately wanting to keep her hair and always having to hide it. No wonder it was the threat of a razor that made her talk

“We’re not supposed to do this” Prim said “but let’s put some more hot water in and wash your hair properly. I can do your back too”

She lathered a lot of shampoo into Effie’s hair and massaged it around on her scalp. It had been so long since someone had touched her like this. So delicately and kindly, like she was worthy of care. As Prim worked to eradicate all the dirt from her scalp, Effie wept silently. She didn’t know what she wept for, but tears didn’t stop tracking down her face until Prim had washed the shampoo out, done a second round, combed through conditioner and scrubbed the dirt off her back.

As she stood and removed herself from the bath, Prim went and fetched some soft, grey cotton pyjamas for her. After Effie had dried herself and dressed in her pyjamas, a man came and set a firm cast around the arm that was broken. In the other hand a canula was fitted and several bags hung- she assumed the fluids, electrolytes and antibiotics that were mentioned earlier. She battled her way through a disgusting trayful of mashed turnips so her body wouldn’t reject the food and then slept for a long, long time.

She came in and out of consciousness for a while, only rousing to use the toilet or eat her rations. The doctors became worried about her. She barely touched her paltry refeeding rations, and her appetite didn’t seem to be returning at all. When she was upped to a larger meal plan, she she would only eat half and then go straight back to sleep. On the eighth day, she woke and felt a small stirring of energy inside herself, so tiny she almost missed it, but there all the same. She stepped shakily out of bed and went into the bathroom. After she’d done her business, she turned to look at herself in the mirror. She had large hollows in her cheeks, and her eyes were still slightly sunken, but she didn’t actually look too bad. She showered herself and washed her face and then changed into the day clothes that had been sitting on her bedside table for a week. Her hair had dried into thick, glossy waves the colour of milk chocolate, but she’d never had it cut or styled, so it hung heavily around her face. She braided the two front sections and then pulled them away from her face and went to sit on her bead. When the nurse arrived with her very small portion of porridge, she quietly asked if she could have some more. As the nurse left to fulfil the request, she sighed deeply with relief.

It was a month later when Haymitch eventually surfaced from rehabilitation. She wasn’t fully weight restored, and her arm still had a cast, but the antibiotics had treated her infections well, and only the worst of the scrapes and bruises were still visible- tiny patches of ghostly yellow almost faded to nothing. She saw him first, but then again her hair made her look quite different, so she could forgive him looking straight past her. She had convinced the hairdresser in thirteen to cut thick, heavy bangs straight across her forehead, and her hair had ended up falling all the way to the bottom of her ribs in the end. It was her most defining feature by far, and he’d never seen it before. She called his name and saw the recognition dawn on his face after a second.

“Nice do, princess” he had mumbled gruffly, clearly trying his best to keep the upper hand

“Thank you, Haymitch” she replied with a clipped tone.

They stared at each other for a second and then broke into laughter. He reached down to hug her and she led him over to the table Katniss, Finnick, Annie and Prim were sat at. She laughed with them as she ate, and finally felt like it might turn out ok after all.

#the hunger games #effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #hayffie #but only if you squint #Effie & Prim #I’m emphasising the ampersand #this is PLATONIC fellas #and if I see any of you making it romantic you’re going to time out #hurt comfort #primrose everdeen #thg series #thg

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totkdaily · 1 month

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Day 67: The Mark of the King

It takes me most of the day to find a small crack in the rock below Lulu Lake which seems to lead to the king's hideaway. This can't be how King Dorephan got in here - there's no way he'd fit.

Muzu is angry with me for breathing near him, as always. It's good to see him.

Dorephan… does not look well.

Muzu suggests that I'm lying about Zelda's disappearance, and I resist reacting. He says he saw the Princess here right after the Upheaval. I have a bad feeling about this…

Dorephan says Zelda came from the sky with a sludge monster - and attacked him?? I am hit with thundering certainty that I was right - there is an imposter. Zelda would never even dream of such a thing. In any case, whoever or whatever this is was seen in multiple places at once. Is it a network? A collection of… wait. Who do I know who can disguise themselves, and works to bring down Hyrule?

The Yiga.

Could they have done this? Maybe this isn't an effect of the Upheaval at all, maybe they're just taking advantage of it - or maybe they're somehow working with the Demon King?

I remember that map of their bases I found at Robbie's lab. Maybe I should seek them out once I'm finished here and find out what they're up to.

King Dorephan, bless him, is in hiding to save both his own reputation and Zelda's. Wounded as he is, he's considering handing the crown over to Sidon. In the meantime, he gives me some of his scales, the Mark of the King, to help with the riddle.

Before I leave I look for another entrance - I was right. There's a much larger entrance behind the large waterfall into Mikau Lake. That's how the king got in.

I return to Sidon to tell him the truth about his father. He agrees we must look skyward for answers. Now we just need to find the land of the sky fish.

On a hunch, I glide across to a nearby waterfall emerging from a sky island. Murky brown as it is, it's still swimmable.

Floating Scales Island is shaped like a fish on my map - good enough. Now, a droplet. Maybe I'm looking for something like the dragon tears? The island is just covered in sludge, but I'm loathe to use splash fruit unless I need it…

The glowing floating rocks around the island are unusual - are they anything? I climb to the centre for a good view… wait, there is something. From here, some of the floating rocks form a teardrop.

"Through this droplet, shoot an arrow with the mark of the King."

Here we go.

The scale flies into the reservoir, and emits a green beacon.

Well, here goes nothing. I glide across into the golden sunset, and drop into the brown lakewater.

Nothing happens. Hmm. I tread water for a moment, thinking.

I wonder if it needs to be a Zora who does the dive? I should go and find Sidon.

I take the easy route - Purah Pad to the tower and glide - to reach Mipha's Court again. It's only then that I realise I could probably clear the sludge on the shrine with splash fruit.

Anyway. Chroma and Khira have taken over purifying the water so Sidon and Yona can talk.

I join them, and Yona says Sidon should come with me to investigate the beacon of light. Sidon hesitates - is he reluctant to leave his people in this time of crisis? That's fair, but there really is no-one else.

Before he can say, we're ambushed by a monster- a sludge like. Is this what ambushed King Dorephan?

The sludge makes movement difficult, and it's a tough battle even with Sidon's water shield. Twice, I think it's all over. But we defeat the beast together.

Yona resumes her conversation with Sidon as if there had been no interruption, encouraging him to investigate the beacon with me. He's reluctant to leave her. She says: "You are yielding to the fear of losing someone you love again."

Wow. She and him must trust each other very deeply. He's clearly shared much with her. I'm glad he has her support. He's so worried to lose her, but she argues she can protect herself - and I'm minded to agree. She's formidable. He heads to the beacon.

But before I follow him, I must see to this shrine.

#totkdaily #day 67 #translation: that like killed me twice in a row #running in sludge is hecking hard work!#i know yona got hate from the sidlink shippers but like #this can be a polycule so easy #she's so good for him #totk #loz #zelda #legend of zelda

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chronosh0t · 3 months

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𝐈 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐢𝐟 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮...

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: male x Lee, alternative universe, hurt, hurt-comfort, angst, mature content, physical and emotional violence, psychotic. 〔 NO BETA 〕 MDNI！

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: “you just wait, when I meet you for real , I will poke you right back”... how many times? 133...thousands...?

────────────── ❁ ──────────────

How could this be? How could this be remotely possible? Did he make some sort of awful mistake to be going through this? Maybe he was having a very realistic nightmare.

But, did it matter? Whether he was having a nightmare, or a bad joke, that wasn't important anymore. After enduring for who knows how long, his brain couldn't come up with a reasonable answer to this new reality. Trying countless times to find a solution, to talk through, finding a way to set himself free and reaching nowhere, giving up led the list. Why would he keep trying?

Physically and emotionally devastated, inside such a tiny room with no window at sight, the only artificial light of a pale blue colour, tied up to a hard iron chair, his skin felt extremely dry. His eyes already accustomed to the darkness would squint at the mere brightness, a sharp pain in both of his temples would force him to close them. He needed sunlight, he needed food, clean water and a warm bath.

Those daily needs that seemed so common and more like a right as a human being were now a far dream. A luxury he was not allowed to experience anymore. Why?... well, just for “poking” too much, apparently. Alone, again, in that room he would remember how everything started, cursing under his breath, but could he actually blame himself?

Poking, yes. He remembered playing a game, he remembered liking a bit too much a certain character and he ALSO remembered quickly tapping the screen because he liked that interaction the most. How this character would “joke” about being childish or how he would “pat” him, with a soft smile and gentle blue eyes.

“You just wait, when I meet you for real I'll poke you right back.”

“Every time you poke me, I will pay it back exponentially… So– you've done it a total of 133637 times. Are you ready for me to return the favour?”

Those two lines would make him giggle. It was just a game, it was just a character and it was just a cute interaction. So how come he ended up in such a situation? How can he blame himself when no one would've thought that character would be able to come out of the game and “poke” him back? However, it doesn't matter anymore, if it made sense or not. The reality was different, and the pokes were no longer a silly joke.

So, sitting on that chair, tied up. Inside that room, he would wait for Lee to come every now and then and…

……

…………

When Zenas logged into the game a month ago he found out his main character on the screen was not there. A glitch? Could be, after all, his phone's battery was at its lowest and it wouldn't be weird if the game lagged a bit. He didn't pay much attention and decided to play for a little bit before going to sleep. Totally unaware something was coming for him.

Waking up, feeling something warm playing with his hair, it took him a solid minute to realise someone else was there. Abruptly his body jolted and sat on the bed, his tired eyes were forced to quickly adjust to the morning light and focus on the person sitting on the mattress as well. A mechanical body, soft light blond hair, pretty pale blue eyes and a gentle smile, everything he was used to seeing every time he would log in. The character, Lee, was there… right in front of him.

Zenas, not sure what to do, body not moving at all and his mind was going haywire. How could that be? Was that a joke? A dream? Yeah, it must be that, a fucking dream. But the Construct talked and Lee's voice reverberated through his skin, growing deep within his heart, he lost consciousness seconds later. When Zenas woke up again, he found himself in the room he's locked in at the exact moment.

The door screeching against the wooden floor brought him back. He could feel the pain again, he felt his skin getting colder with each passing seconds, minutes, days and weeks. There were even moments when Zenas thought his pain tolerance was at his limit but Lee would do his best to refute that, awakening his senses from the slightest numb sensation. The character he thought was the sweetest of all ended up being a psychopath. How laughable.

ㅤㅤㅤ“Commandant.” Lee broke the silence, with the usual gentle voice, manipulating Zenas’ mind. “Did you miss me?”

Zenas let out a chuckle. No, it wasn't funny, at all, but that involuntary action was out of his own insanity, the amount of pain he had felt the past month after being physically tortured with different objects, his skin being ripped apart and stabbed countless time with screws and needless of all sizes, pushed his mind to limits Zenas thought he didn't have. Weirdly enough he would answer that question with a yes.

Was this what therapists would call Stockholm Syndrome?

ㅤㅤㅤ“Let's start with our daily routine, shall we?”

✂………………………………………………………………………………………………

〔 🎐 〕 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛... 𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚝? 𝚒𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛.

〔 🎐 〕 𝚙𝚜𝚢𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝙻𝚎𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚔𝚎𝚢 𝚊 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗 𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚎 𝙸 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙.

〔 🎐 〕 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚏𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍.

#pgr #punishing gray raven #pgr lee #lee hyperreal #pgr global #canon divergence #alternate universe #own oc #oc x canon #pgr oc #pgr commandant #lee x commandant #hurt/angst #actually psychotic #stockholm syndrome #minors dni #sae pgr writings #i'm insane #help me

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coolcattime · 3 months

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Home and Free: Chapter Eleven - The Wolf Chase

Characters: Captain Capsize, Sonja Firefox, Skipper Redbeard, Jordan Captainsparklez, Tucker Jericho, Tom Syndicate, Martha the Mystic, Mot Screziato, Alyssa Countybat, Waglington, Farmer Steve, Prince Andor, Jeriah, Lady Ianite (mentioned)

Relationship: Captain Capsize/Sonja Firefox, Captain Capsize/Jordan Captainsparklez (onesided)

AO3 Link

Full Story Tag

Capsize’s thoughts were very much still panicked when she found her way to the entrance doors of the castle. All she could think about was escaping. How could her thoughts be on anything else when she was so aware that she could be stopped at any moment? If the Beast caught her now, stopped her from leaving, what would happen to her? Would she be thrown into the cell she had found Red in? Would she somehow have a worse fate? She hadn’t originally been scared of being locked in the cell, that was the circumstances she thought she had been agreeing to, and even now it was not the worst fate she could think of. However, she was so afraid of being at the mercy of the Beast, of what those claws could do to her if she was in reach of them when her mood turned. She hadn’t been hurt yet, but how close had it been? She couldn’t remain in this place and just wait to be harmed. She had to go back to the town, because even if she hated it, she could at least be sure she was safe there.

As she approached the grand entrance doors, she still felt shaky. She hadn’t collected her few belongings, not wanting to risk the extra time it would take to collect them. However, that also meant she didn’t have her cloak on her, as she opened the heavy doors and felt the cold air hit her. Winter was just the beginning, but the nights were already bitterly cold. Her shirt and trousers were warm enough inside, and she was technically wearing a coat, but it was thin and not designed for travelling, let alone for travelling through winter nights. But she needed to leave as soon as she could, so that wasn’t a problem she could fix. Yes, it would be an unpleasant journey, but what did that matter? She could deal with a few hours of unpleasantness. She needed to leave now. She’d head back to town and pretend this was all just some dream.

“Miss, what are you—?” Capsize whipped around in fright at the sound of a voice behind her, only calming slightly upon seeing the small form of Martha. Even if she was not afraid of the person who had found her, she could not calm completely. She hadn’t been calm before the voice had spooked her, and she was still trying to leave – the one thing that she had promised not to do. Martha understood immediately upon seeing her face that something had gone terribly wrong. Her features were highlighted with fear, her breathing quick and fast and her gaze did not stop shifting to the staircase as if she was terrified of someone following her. It did not take a genius to figure out who must have scared her. And it was far too much fear to have just been caused by a chance encounter. The clock realised with a terrible sickening drop that she must’ve entered the West Wing. Usually that realisation would’ve led to lectures about that being a ridiculous and unnecessary action that only served to get her in trouble, but she knew such words would be at this moment as cruel as they would be unneeded. She moved forward as gently as she could, trying to think of any way to provide her comfort, to get her into a calmer state of mind, but very few things came to mind. “Miss, just try to steady your breathing… you shouldn’t be making any rash decisions in your current state.”

“No, it’s not rash, I…” She swallowed, realising that she was talking far too fast as that’s the only way her breath would currently allow her to speak. She took the advice, trying to slow down her breathing, though she struggled to actually do so. She didn’t feel like she was acting rashly. She knew beyond all else that she could not remain here, that she needed to leave as soon as possible and not matter what the risks. Perhaps if she was calmer, this would be seen as rash actions, but she saw her panicked thoughts as perhaps the most logical she had had since she had arrived. Because she was sure at this moment that she could not remain here, and if she could not remain here, she had to leave now. If she stayed here when she had tried to escape, there was as good a chance that she would be locked up in a way that meant she’d never be able to try again. Maybe she’d deserve that, for going back on her word, but that didn’t stop that thought from once again making her breath quicken and her chest tighten. “I know what I promised, but I— I can’t stay here. I just can’t!”

“Did she… Did she hurt you?” Had any of the others been around, Martha would not have had the bravery to ask such a question. None of them liked facing the idea of the Mistress being violent, or rather they didn’t want to believe she had fallen so far as to physically and purposefully hurt a person. Martha didn’t particularly want to consider it either, but she had to check. How could she not check if she was this scared? Capsize shook her head, though there was a certain hesitance to the action. She wasn’t hurt. She wasn’t even sure that she had been close to being hurt, but the uncertainty wasn’t enough to ease her fears. Though it did add to the odd guilt she had in this situation. She was breaking her word. Thinking about it that way made her slightly sick, but what choice did she have? “Okay, that’s good. Do you want to come to the kitchens? Or somewhere in the castle she can’t reach?”

“No! I… Please, I swear I won’t tell anyone about this place, about any of you, I just. I can’t,” She almost begged despite the fact that the clock could not physically stop her even if she wanted to. Martha just looked at her sorrowfully. She knew she should argue with her, try to convince her to stay. This girl was the only chance they had of breaking the curse, she had to remain here, but how could she stand here and argue that? How could she argue that anyone should stay in this place? She thought about what Tom would say, something that she had never thought about before in her life and frankly seemed to make all the clearer just how desperate she felt, but nothing came to mind that was actually helpful. The only thing she could think to say was that the woman clearly was not ready for any sort of journey through the night. Even without the cold, she knew there were predators in the woods, the sort that had originally started the mess with her brother’s arrival. Did she have any chance of fighting or even just scaring them off without some sort of supplies? With the rush she was in, she didn’t even have a light. While she may not in good conscience be able to argue for her to remain here, she also could not allow her to leave without saying anything.

“Okay, I won’t make you stay, but you really aren’t in a fit state for the journey. At least come with me to collect your cloak and at the very least a light,” She spoke softly, hoping to mostly just get her out of danger and perhaps delay her decision a little. She couldn’t let her run off into danger. Even if she ends up leaving, she could at least feel okay with that decision if she knew the woman wasn’t running off into danger. And maybe if she collected her things, had some time to think, she’d choose to say of her own accord. She doubted such an outcome, but stranger things had happened. Capsize found herself frozen. The logical part of herself wanted to listen, to prepare rather than just running out into the night when she knew she wasn’t ready, but that part of her mind was barely audible at the current moment.

Perhaps if she had remained alone with Martha for a few minutes longer, she may have been quietly talked into properly preparing. Her thoughts were already swimming with doubt, perhaps she could’ve been convinced to not go out into the night at all. However, she saw movement in the upper landing. It wasn’t the Beast, had she looked for more than a mere moment she would’ve seen that fact clearly, but her mind was moving too fast for that. Her panic restarted as if it was fresh. She could not remain here. She just couldn't.

“I’m sorry!” Were her last words before she dashed out the door. Her flight was seen by an already panicked Tom and Mot who had been desperately hoping to find her before any sort of altercation could happen between her and the Beast, only to realise they were now far too late. All three cursed individuals that witnessed the scene had a different kind of devastation run through them. They were doomed. None reacted in quite the same way.

“Capsize!” Tom called out, hopping as quickly as he could out the door after her. Her horse was in the stables. She’d need to saddle it to ride back to town, and he had to hope she was planning to ride and not just run. He had to still have time to try and persuade her, to beg her to stay. Neither of the others even tried to stop him. Neither had any belief he’d be able to bring her back either, but there was no point in stopping him from trying.

Mot wanted to follow, he really did, but he could not feel anything but a numb pessimism. He wished that he could just be disappointed, angry that he had once again put his faith in the Beast and that he had been so thoroughly let down. However, he couldn’t feel anything but numb as it was not only his fate that was sealed by Capsize leaving, but Alyssa’s was too. His daughter would never be human again. Neither would the champion and princess he was trusted to watch over. The sorrow and guilt combined into a numbness. All their fates were being sealed in that moment, how was he meant to feel anything else?

Martha, meanwhile, found herself completely frozen with thoughts far away from their fates. Instead, all her thoughts latched onto a memory of a time that felt almost like a dream now. Years before the curse, a good handful of years before even she found herself taking residence in the castle, back when for a few months between travels she had been staying with her father. Her mind had been lingering on those particular few months in the past few days, a fact she had attributed to simply missing her father and being reminded of that fact more by the arrival of someone with such a close family relationship to this cursed place. It was only now though that it finally clicked.

She had met her before. The woman had been young, still a child, she hadn’t realised until now. She had been brought to her father, looking very much like she suspected herself in trouble, as the woman that had brought her there questioned him about the young girl’s possible connection to Lady Ianite. To be honest, she hadn’t paid much attention, it had seemed like a private affair after all, but it was clear to her now that child had grown up to be Capsize.

That realisation, however, left her with a deep sickly nausea rising within her, the sort she had not felt since losing her human form, because she remembered what her father had offhandedly mentioned about the girl. How had someone that had talked to Lady Ianite ended up here? A messenger of the very god that cursed them. Could it really be a consequence? But the woman certainly didn’t seem like she had been sent here intentionally. She seemed like she had no idea what was going on, but that just left Martha with further questions. However, there was an even worse fear that came into her mind now she had realised this fact about the woman. The woods were dangerous, that was the exact reason she had tried to talk her into staying, but if she truly was one of the goddess’ favoured, what would that mean if she didn’t make it back to the town? The goddess had already cursed them for one woman’s slight, what would she do if the same woman’s anger led her messenger into harm’s way? Ironically, Martha could only pray that they would never find out.

🌹 🌹 🌹

It was no longer than ten minutes before Tom re-entered the completely dejected as Capsize rode away from the castle. The most interesting person he’d had to talk to in years and she’d left in fear. He honestly wasn’t sure if he was more upset about the fact that he’d be stuck as an object for the rest of time, or that he was losing someone he had seen as a friend. It was almost certainly the former, not much could bring down a person’s mood like knowing they were stuck with a terrible fate, but he couldn’t help but think about her clear unhappiness whether she talked about the town and how she was riding right back into the life she clearly disliked. Really, how could such a fact sit easily in his mind?

It was only around another ten minutes later that all the living furniture were gathered together in the kitchen. It was incredibly rare for them to all actually be in one room, but at the current moment it has seemed a good idea to all gather in one place. Originally, they had been attempting to form some kind of plan, but that very quickly stopped as the mood succumbed to the inescapable truth of the curse. That wasn’t to say that the room was silent, but the talking that was actually taking place was, well, anger and annoyance that hadn’t been directed towards each other for years once again causing sparks.

“Why do you even have an opinion? You didn’t even meet her!” Steve was not quite yelling, though he was certainly more riled up than he had been in years. It was unsurprising to the others that Wag and Steve had so quickly started arguing, the two had never gotten along. However, they had not interacted for years at this point, after all it was quite easy for the wizard turned fabric to avoid someone that was literally stuck to a wall. Now they were actually in the same room, their dislike of each other had quickly rebloomed and it was easier by far for Steve to yell at him than to actually confront the actual painful situation they were all stuck in.

“Well, I’m just as affected by her leaving as you so I should get some kind of opinion. Besides, it’s not as if me meeting her would’ve changed the outcome,” The robe shrugged, fabric flopping around as he did so. His nonchalance only annoyed the stove more. The rest of those gathered were frankly exhausted, not just from the bickering, though it certainly did not raise their moods. Most of them had tried to interrupt the arguing at some point, though none had had any success in stopping it. Normally Martha would’ve yelled at the two to actually act like adults, but she simply didn’t have the energy at this moment. “I know it’s a little hard for you to know what’s going on in the castle, but I have been working on breaking the curse.”

“Oh of course you have! Working on some magical solution. Go on, tell us all about the way you’ve figured out that’ll put us all back to normal,” He didn’t hold back his disdain. The amount of disrespect he’d suffered prior to the curse from the princess for not having any magical abilities. He’d only put up with liking magic at all because of Martha, because of the friends he had in the castle. He’d had his annoyances towards magic, and particularly the wizard and the princess even prior to the curse, but then he had been magically fused to a wall. Unsurprising that left a man with more than a little resentment. “No, you can’t, because you haven’t found a solution, because magic is what got us into this mess in the first place!”

“No, the Beast is what got us all into this mess in the first place!” Alyssa spoke full of annoyance, gaining the attention of everyone in the room. She didn’t care if she was being improper, or whatever it was that everyone used to lecture her about. She was so entirely done with being respectful about the Beast, about this curse. She was always expected to be nice and polite. She had been expected to bite her tongue when her dad was being disrespected. The number of lectures she’d gotten from Martha about proper etiquette and manners she was meant to have, while the one she was meant to use such things around barely used them herself. She was so bored of it all. “It has nothing to do with magic. If she’d just let an old woman stay for a night, we’d all be fine!”

“I mean, she isn’t that bad…” Andor said quietly. His words were somewhat undermined by his current form, though he did truly mean them, as much as they were not much of a compliment. Alyssa rolled her eyes. How many times has she heard such a line? It was always some variant on not so bad as if that was the highest compliment in the world.

“She got us all cursed and has now chased off the one person who could’ve broken said curse. If she isn’t that bad, then who is?” She huffed. Her words were met with silence, none quite knowing what to say. Mot wanted to comfort her, but what could he say? He certainly couldn’t deny her words, and he certainly couldn’t blame her for them. How much of her life had been spent as an object rather than a person? He didn’t want to blame the Beast, obviously he didn’t, since she hadn’t even been an adult yet when she had triggered the curse. She had been old enough to know better, to act kinder, but still a child nonetheless. He could not place the blame fully on her, so he took on that guilt himself as much as he knew saying such a thing would only cause his daughter to lay more blame upon her.

Outside the kitchen, the Beast stood frozen, hearing the words she was not meant to hear. She deserved their dislike. She knew that she did. That’s why she needed to break the curse. She deserved her fate, but she needed to start taking responsibility for her actions and that meant attempting to fix the effects of the curse on them. She had no idea if her idea would work, though as she gripped the mirror tightly, she hoped beyond hope that it would because there was nothing else that she could do at this point. But… she needed to do it in front of them. She’d chicken out if she tried alone. However, she also couldn’t bring herself to enter the kitchen. She had already let them down once that night, what would happen if she did so again?

“Mistress, you should come inside,” Martha said, her tone hollow in her exhaustion, but loud enough to gain everyone’s attention. She knew that she had been lingering for a number of minutes, which she regretted not mentioning until now as she realised, she likely should’ve warned Alyssa, but she had not really been in the headspace to register such things. She was far too drained from the realisation she had had as the woman was leaving, one she knew she could not reveal to anyone for fear of what it meant, for how it would change things. Besides, it was not as if warnings had ever dissuaded the teenage flowerpot from speaking her mind before, still she could not stand the fear that appeared on Mot. Perhaps she should be scared too with what the Beast’s anger she had done today, but she simply could not muster it.

The Beast entered the room hunched inwards, the fact that this was intentional on her part to try and avoid looking any of them in the eyes, to hide the shame she felt at her actions that night, at first hidden by her need to duck to enter the room at all. It was impossible for her to look small, especially to the rest of the castle’s residences in their current forms, but still she tried to make herself tiny so she could not be stared at. She couldn’t look at any of them, sure they were all staring at her in anger and knowing she would feel all the worse if they weren’t angry. The idea that they might still see her as possible of being better, that any of them were disappointed rather than angry or resentful being the thing she wanted to confront the least.

“I’m sorry,” She said. Her voice was rough, all the hopelessness that had wormed its way into her spilling out in her tone. Though still almost a growl, she sounded so much more human in this moment, and that made listening to herself all the harder. There was an indecisive look between Tom and Mot. They wanted to confront her, but both knew she needed to speak on her own accord, else she may never try again. It did look like she may retreat at any moment, though at the same time she was almost painfully still. All she could think about was that everything was completely over for her, so she had to try and fix some part of this. “I’ve… I’ve ruined everything for you all. I don’t expect any of you to forgive me, but I…”

She couldn’t say the words she wanted to, it felt far too much like justifying. She pulled up the mirror to actually be able to see herself in it, forcing herself to look at her reflection. She hated seeing it, the horns, fur, and fangs. She hated that she could not fully remember the face that was meant to be staring back, the portraits that could’ve served as reminders were long since torn apart. However, on this night she forced herself to keep her eyes open and to look at the monster that stared back, it was not as if looking at herself made her feel any more ashamed than that she deserved for her actions tonight.

“I’m going to try and fix what I did to you all,” Her voice felt weak as she tried to believe what she was about to do would do anything. The furniture looked between themselves, though none said a word. There were words that some wanted to say, of course, some gentle some not, but none actually did. There was such a fragility. It was as if a single word would shatter the moment that continued to drag on. The Beast kept staring into the mirror, the last beads of hope within her hooked with frayed thread to this idea. “Show me Lady—”

A distant noise cut off every thought in her head as if it was right next to her. Her ears pricked up and focused as soon as she heard the howls, far closer to the castle than they normally would be. She had heard them like this a few nights ago, though covered by the rain. She had had no reason to care, no reason to think any of it. Expect for now it made her blood run cold as she remembered painfully the words of the man. She had not cared about any of his excuses when she had been dragging him to the cell, but she remembered them, his cries of having been attacked by wolves. Her entire focus shifted.

“Show me her—the woman! Show me Capsize!” She desperately spoke to the mirror, an impending terror of what her rash actions might have caused. The amount of time it took for the mirror to actually work and form the image was agony, but that agony did not leave her when the image actually formed. Rather than the terrible images in her imagination being proven false, she saw them in front of her. No, this couldn’t—she couldn’t let her be hurt because of her. She dropped the mirror, bounding out the room on all fours, focused now on nothing but reaching her in time.

🌹 🌹 🌹

Capsize barely managed to shift her body to land on her good side as she was thrown from Phillipe, the shock of hitting the cold, frost-hardened ground coming in a quick wave of pain that quickly dulled but didn’t disappear. She did not have time to focus on it. She had to get back onto her horse and away from the attacking pack of animals as quickly as possible. Her horse that was currently panicking as wolves were quickly surrounding him. The horse that only hadn’t fled already as his reins had become tangled around a tree’s branches keeping him stuck in place. The horse that currently had her cane strapped to her saddle and she had been thrown an uncomfortable distance from. She tried not to focus on how utterly screwed she was. She wasn’t going to die here, so she needed to do something.

She grabbed the first thing she could feasibly use as a weapon, the frost covering the fallen tree branch unpleasant against her bare skin in a way she just had to ignore. She had known it was stupid to leave without preparation. She had known it was too cold and too dark for her to just leave, but fear had overwritten those thoughts, and had been louder than the voices both within her own head and from others telling her to stay. It had been rash and reckless, and where had it gotten her? Dashing with a painful limp to hit away wolves from trying to attack her horse.

As she swung the branch, knocking them back at least a little, the wolves quickly changed their focus. Very quickly, rather than leaping at Phillipe, they were leaping at her. Adrenaline was the only thing keeping her arms swinging as the growls turned onto her. Her thoughts were run by simply knowing if she didn’t, she would not be alive to see the sunrise. And that kept her going until one of the wolves leapt up at face. She swung the branch wildly, knocking the creature back with a sharp crack and a whine. However, the crack was not from an injury she had caused. Only half the branch remained in her hands, splintered and useless and the other half had been thrown back with the wolf.

She stood frozen, completely frozen, attempting to come up with anything she could do. She tried to scramble for another branch, but ended up dragged to the ground as a wolf grabbed her coat. Her left leg was painfully twisted in the process, completely ruining any tiny chance she had of getting back up. She let out an unhelpful, pitiful sob as she tried desperately to think of something to do. Another wolf leapt at her. She threw up her arms as the only shield she had. She awaited the pain of a bite.

It never came. There was a wave of air as the wolf was thrown away from her. It was so sudden that she didn’t stop bracing for impact until something else touched her. Stood in a protective stance, growling at all the wolves, was the Beast. She almost thought she was dreaming. It didn’t feel real that the reason she had been scared enough to land in this situation in the first place was now standing protecting her. She had saved her life.

The wolves changed their target as she threw back another one, focused on the larger threat rather than the easy pickings they had originally been targeting. As they began to circle her, Fox roared ready for a fight. Capsize tried to process everything but found herself completely unable. So instead, she stood up. There was a wave of pain she hadn’t felt for a long time shot through her as she stood, the weight on her left leg far more painful than it had been a minute ago. She tried to push that fact to the back of her mind, as hard as such a thing was, and pushed herself to move back to Phillipe.

Despite only being a few feet, it was painful, the lingering fears of what she had done to her already weak leg haunting her with every step. The only other thing to focus on was the growls, grunts, and whines coming as the wolves pounced at and attacked Fox, which wasn’t exactly something more pleasant to focus on. Despite the leg pain certainly being worse, if she could choose to ignore one, it would certainly be the noises. She tried to focus on Phillip as she found herself now in front of the horse, stroking his neck with shaking heads to calm him before untangling his reins. As she did, she knew that she should leave now, while she had the opportunity and distraction to make good progress back to town, but instead she found herself transfixed on the wolves and Fox.

The wolves had encircled her, lunging at her with claws and teeth as she fought against them. She seemed so powerful, batting away the wild creatures as if their attacks were nothing. However, some still broke through her defence, managing to claw or bite her, though Capsize struggled to know if they were actually doing any damage as she never reacted to any of it. She tried not to pay attention, to instead focus on escaping while she still could. An opportunity she was sure was fleeting by the second as, after one took a particularly nasty hit from Fox, the wolves begun to flee.

She stared at Fox, wondering how much time she had before she was forcefully dragged back to the castle. She expected her to start looming towards her, braced herself for it in fact, but what she feared didn’t actually happen. Instead, she looked at her, blood covered her right arm. She wasn’t glaring as she had been earlier, there wasn’t anger or anything of the sort, in fact her gaze barely seemed to reach her. It was so unlike anything Capsize had seen from her within their few meetings. She kept staring, trying to figure out why she seemed so different. Her features seemed lighter, and her expression almost sorrowful. And then she collapsed.

Capsize grabbed her cane from the saddle, rushing over to the Beast. Crouching, ignoring the aching pain in her leg telling her such an action was a bad idea, she examined her arm. Her stomach turned as half-hidden by blood matted fur was an injury that she just couldn’t tell in this darkness how bad it was. Her breath shook as she tried to process the sight. She had been injured protecting her. If Fox hadn’t turned up, she surely would have died, but instead she was lying unconscious on the floor of the woods. She wasn’t going to get any better out here in the cold. Capsize had no idea what she should do. No, actually she had a very distinct idea of what she should do, but every fibre of her being was telling her it was a stupid idea.

She should just leave. She should go back to the town, find her brother, and go about her life as if she hadn’t been missing for days. Back to that boring life surrounded by people who made her question everything about herself being constantly bothered by a man who she absolutely couldn’t stand. Wouldn’t that be easier? Was that what she should do? At the very least, it was the logical thing to do. She was a prisoner, wasn’t she? She should escape now that she’d been given such a good opportunity to do so. But she wasn’t scared anymore. Or rather, she was scared in a very different way. She was scared of what was going to happen to someone who had saved her life. Regardless of circumstances, she could not bring herself to abandon her. She sighed. She could only imagine what Redbeard, Jeriah, or Ianite would say if they knew the decision she was making, but she knew she would only have regrets if she left someone, regardless of who they were, in such a situation when she could’ve helped.

It was going to be a long walk back. One she knew she would likely regret when she actually rested as, while having her cane to support her was certainly helping, the fall had not done her leg any favours. However, there clearly was not any other choice. Given that she was unconscious, Phillipe would need to carry Fox. There was no way he could carry both of them without a cart, so she would just have to be on foot. She was, ironically, quite relieved that she had not made it far in her escape attempt. While she might be stuck in the cold and dark, she would be back to the castle sooner rather than later. She did not like how that statement reassured her. There were a thousand questions poking into her mind as she guided her horse with a sleeping beast on its back back towards where they had just fled from. She didn’t understand why she did not fear going back there, but as she looked towards Fox, she knew she was doing the right thing. Though that didn’t shift the tightness in her chest nearly as much as she wished it would.

🌹 🌹 🌹

The world came back to the Beast in groggily bursts at first. Noises and sensations, but not actual wakefulness. The first time she actually felt awake, the first thing she acknowledged was that she was moving, the second was that her arm was filled with the worst pain she had ever felt. The second thing quickly became her only focus as it was sharp and biting as opposed to the rest of the world that was foggy and far away. She groaned, the noise escaping her as a low growl as she tried to move, but still was not awake enough to have the strength. Whatever had been moving her stopped. There was, for a moment, nothing in the world except for the pain in her arm and the cold wind hitting against her body, only partly shielded by her fur.

“We’re almost back, just a few more minutes,” She heard a reassuring voice, one that steadied her mind as the movement began again. The woman was safe, she didn’t need to worry about having caused someone death. Though, why would she be hearing her voice? Surely, she had continued her journey back home, to the normal life that she deserved, once she had fallen unconscious. So maybe she was just dreaming, dreaming that the woman would be trying to help her. Wouldn’t that be nice. That was the explanation her mind settled on as she drifted, and she was asleep once again.

The next time she woke up, everything was far clearer, and she realised her explanation did not make sense. As she opened her eyes and had the strength to look around, she saw she was in the castle’s grounds, the thick rose bushes surrounding her. Why was she back? She had been in the woods, by all means she was alone, so how had she gotten back? She looked up, her head momentarily dizzy before the actual things she saw brought her back into control as if she had been physically shocked. She was slumped over the woman’s horse, hanging over the animal as she had clearly been carried onto it while she was asleep. The woman was on the steps, rushing to open the doors. She had brought her back. It was an undeniable fact, but it did not fit right in her head. There was no reason for her to have done so, no reason the woman should’ve come back at all. Unless did she really…? No, no. There was no reason for this to have happened, so the Beast decided she was going to ignore it.

She stood, her legs feeling weaker than they should. Her steps were shaky, her arm was killing her, but she had no reason to stay out here any longer. She should just go back to the West Wing and lick her wounds, leave the woman to do whatever she wanted, leave and go back to her life. As she walked, the cold air quickly killed her wooziness. The horse startled a little as she walked past it, an expected reaction that unfortunately got the woman’s attention. Widened eyes met her as the woman turned and saw her moving, though they did not have the fear they had contained earlier. However, the look did nothing to quell the Beast’s thoughts, she could not bring herself to believe she was actually concerned.

Capsize found herself distracted from her original task of opening the door, concerned more that the Beast may fall again than the fact she was moving towards her. She moved down a couple of steps, attempting to figure out if she should say something or help her, but she found herself being brushed past without so much of a look. There was a brief moment of confusion, wondering if she should have expected anything else. Something had been different, hadn’t it? When she came to save her, the moment before she had collapsed, something had been different. And something, at least to her, was still different, as the fear that had previously always been at the back of her mind when being around Fox was no longer there, but it seemed as if Fox was not willing to act as if anything had changed. Capsize turned as the doors were opened behind her, following the Beast as quickly as she could, unsure if the concern she felt was still reasonable.

“If you’re awake, your arm needs to—”

“You’re back! You’re safe!” She was cut off by a very relieved Tom as she entered the room, Fox not giving a single look towards either of them as she proceeded to the stairs as if there was nothing to be said. Maybe there wasn’t, maybe she should just let her stalk off to wherever she wanted and deal with her injury alone, but she couldn’t do that. Whether she wanted her help or not, her wound needed to be treated and Capsize was the only person in this castle with hands. What would’ve been the point of bringing her back, if she just went off and let her wound fester and get infected? Still, Capsize decided not to ignore Tom.

“Yes, I’m fine, just cold and had a bit of a fall. But she—”

“Get her a change of clothes and make sure her fire is lit,” The Beast said, aiming her words and gaze at Tom. She could tell the woman’s clothes were not nearly thick enough to have protected her from the night air, and her fall into the frost must have left them at least slightly damp. By now, she must surely be freezing. If she gave Tom the task of making sure she warmed up, it’d distract the two and stop word from spreading about their return, at least for long enough for her to rest off the pain. That was her thoughts as she turned around, intending to go back to the West Wing and sleep.

“Are you being serious?” Capsize’s incredulous voice stopped her from continuing to leave. She turned around to see her staring with a frown and a glare laced with a very different kind of anger than she was used to seeing from anyone, let alone the woman. It was not quite enough to make her change her mind on her plans, but it was certainly enough to leave questions in her head. Why did she look like she cared? Capsize, with an absolute annoyance that the person she was talking to apparently had so little care about her own health, took a step forward. “Your arm has a massive wound on it. It needs treatment.”

“I’ll deal with it,” She tried to deflect, to ignore whatever concern she was imagining in the woman’s tone. Capsize scoffed. She couldn’t understand such an attitude. No, actually she very much could. It was her own attitude of just pretending everything was fine to her own detriment. It was the very same attitude that had slowed and damaged her own chances of recovery. She took a few more steps forward, to the point that she was now standing on the bottom step of the grand staircase. Yes, she was cold and frankly her leg was killing her, but she could deal with both of those things at the same time as making sure Fox’s arm was probably looked after. Her determined expression should not have been intimidating. Logically there was no reason the Beast should find any person intimidating as she towered over even the tallest of them, and certainly processed more strength than any of them. She was a good two feet taller than the woman looking up at her and would certainly win against her in any physical contest. However, it was the look on her face, one that made it so clear that she was the one in charge, making her completely unable to look away.

“Just let me help you,” She said, her voice clears in such a way that the Beast knew she couldn’t say no to her. She had a look of authority that simply seemed to exist. Like she knew just by instinct that she should not be questioned. It almost offended the Beast. This was her castle, her authority shouldn’t be questioned, she was the one who should be in charge, but she could not bring herself to be. What she actually felt, well, she couldn’t quite describe it. However, she could not ignore the woman’s request, not when she could still feel her eyes boring into her. She huffed.

“Fine but get changed first. I’m not having you collapse from the cold; it’d just make you a hindrance,” She growled before stalking off in a direction away from the West Wing. Tom blinked in disbelief. She was still being rude, but she’d actually accepted help rather than yelling that she knew best, and she should just listen to her. That meant something, didn’t it? Even if it didn’t, it certainly excited him despite the situation it had occurred in. He hopped up to Capsize.

“Hey, I’m glad you’re back,” He said, giving her a smile. She smiled back despite her thoughts being filled with confusion. Despite everything, she was glad to be back, glad to see Tom. She had made friends here, more than she had had back in the town. Maybe that was foolish of her, but… maybe she had had too much activity and excitement in the day to actually process such thoughts.

“I’m glad to see you,” She said, sure of that at least. The rest of the situation she was less sure about. She had no idea why she felt the need to help the Beast. Yes, she had saved her life, but that wasn’t enough to make her feel indebted to her, after all she wouldn’t have needed to be saved in the first place if not for her. She should by all means leave the stubborn beast to her own devices, if she didn’t want help, she did not need to provide it, but unfortunately, she couldn't bring herself to actually do that. Or, maybe not unfortunately, her thoughts on the subject were a little unfocused.

She shivered, maybe she was colder than she thought. Well, she remembered there being spare clothes in her room. She had no idea why, given that they certainly wouldn’t fit anyone who lived here, but she was appreciative of the oddity at this moment. If she was going to remain here, she might as well use them and figure out the mystery behind it later.

🌹 🌹 🌹

Despite the woman’s words, the Beast did not expect to actually see her again that night. She was sure she would realise that helping her was a lost cause and would instead go to rest. Yet, still had still slumped off into her actual bedroom rather than her study turned den in the West Wing she didn’t want to force the woman to enter again. She almost didn’t recognise the place. How many years had it been since she was here last? She had entered it since the curse, though not many times before she stopped using it as it just stood as another reminder to her of her lost humanity. The room was not in disrepair as her enchantments were still strong, cleaning and keeping the room dust free despite how she had not dared to enter the place in years. The fireplace lit at her presence, a warm glow illuminating the room. It all felt as familiar as it was alien, a piece of the past where she no longer belonged. Her possessions still littered the room, books open, pens and inks abandoned mid note taking, all still fresh as if she had abandoned the place hours ago rather than years. There was a part of herself that wanted to leave immediately, so she could ignore the memories of the past that the place was bringing to the front of her mind, but her exhaustion won out against that idea.

She looked towards the bed, made and welcoming, but she ended up slumping onto the rug in front of the fire. She lent on her right arm at first, an uncharacteristic yelp escaping her as she put just a bit too much pressure on it. She took a sharp breath and grunted as if she wasn’t in pain despite having no one to try and cover for. She curled up in front of the fire, staring at the flames as they danced around giving her warmth that she didn’t need due to her fur but still appreciated. Despite the amount of time the room had sat abandoned, familiar smells still lingered. The magical wood burning nearly overwhelmed the lingering scent of the odd fruit blossom that she originally used in the wards that ran the room's magic. It was still there though, still clinging on and reminding her how excited she was when magical research wasn’t just some desperate hope that she was clinging to to solve a mess she created. She had been so young, still using common ingredients in her experiments as she had not yet gained the confidence to use anything rare in case it ended up wasted; still messing around with Tom rather than seeing him as a distraction. When did she lose those feelings, that passion? If she could, she’d retreat back to those times, not change. Though, for once, her memories felt pleasant rather than an uncomfortable reminder of how terribly she had failed.

For once, she did not mind being lost in the memories as, even with the melancholy undertone they had now that she was stuck in this form, they were still a nice distraction from the unpleasantness the night had brought both physically and emotionally. Her arms still ached, though it was easy enough to ignore as long as she kept it still. Granted, this was not a great solution, but it wasn’t as if she actually knew what to do. She’d never gotten an injury like this one, one that felt serious. Obviously she knew that she shouldn’t have tried to reject the help offered by the woman, but she just couldn't ignore the pit in her stomach whether she was with her. She couldn’t quite describe it. She wanted to pretend that it was guilt for having led her into danger, but it had been there before tonight. She knew what it really was, like she knew the real reason she had allowed the woman to stay instead of her brother, but she didn’t want to acknowledge those thoughts. She just wanted to stay away from the feeling, even if it meant hoping that her injury would magically heal on its own. It was not as if the woman would actually come and help anyway.

However, despite her sureness that she would be alone for the night and that would be for the best, she was not disappointed to look over when she heard the door open and see Capsize standing there. In fact, she found herself staring at her, mostly out of disbelief that she actually came despite how clear she had been about her intentions, but also because she looked so nice. Not that she hadn’t looked nice before, but she had changed now, and well, the outfit suited her. It was still simple, as her previous clothes had been, a soft shirt and a long deep blue wool skirt, but both pieces were decorated with beautiful embroidery and not worn so often that the colours had begun to fade. She didn’t recognise either piece. Had they been Martha’s? The Beast reasoned they must have been, though they fit Capsize so well that she could not imagine them having been tailored for anyone else.

There was the briefest softening on the woman’s features before she turned serious again. Not stern nor angry, but merely just a look of knowing she had a task she must do. Still though, she almost hesitated to enter the room, just almost, but as quickly as that thought sat in her mind, she shook it away. It was not as if she was unwanted or uninvited, and even if she was, the wound needed treatment so she would do what she must. With a breath to steady herself, she entered into the room hoping that the supplies she had gathered would be enough. As she did her eyes were drawn to Fox, her form slumped on the floor. She did not look small, Capsize doubted she ever could, but she certainly was not the large looming creature she had been previously. Perhaps that’s why worry formed rather than fear. As, while she was at least awake, her arm was clearer in the firelight and not easy to look at with the amount of blood covering it. As she walked across the room, the tea cart she had gathered supplies on followed her as it had followed the furniture on her first night here.

The Beast was unsure if she should move or try to help the woman in some way currently unknown to her. Unsure, she merely shifted away as Capsize took a place in an armchair by the fire. They were closer together than they had been at any point during the past few days, and she hesitated to move any closer. Yet, after Capsize poured water from a metal kettle into a china basin, she looked up at Fox confused.

“You know, we’re going to need to be next to each other for me to be able to do this,” She said with the smallest amount of confusion hidden in her tone. Fox knew that her face flushed, though thankfully that fact was hidden by her fur. She was already embarrassed enough as she shifted her position to be sat in front of Capsize without blushing like an idiot. She sat in such a position that she could place her arm on her lap, but she was still facing the fire so she could ignore the world and that suited her just fine.

Being ignored suited Capsize well enough as well. It was better for her to actually focus on the task, even if there were pressing questions in her mind. After all, she still had no idea how bad the wound actually was and that wasn’t going to change until she got to work, even if she was a little unsure where to begin. She was experienced enough in first aid, it was kind of a requirement of a lifestyle where you’re always travelling, as well as one where you need to make sure you haven’t injured yourself terribly while recovering from an already serious wound. However, she had never actually done any sort of first aid on animals, as awkward as she felt comparing Fox to such a thing when she could talk and seemed built far more like a person than any animal she had ever seen, but really, how was she meant to deal with fur? All of it up to her elbow was matted with dried blood and it was near impossible to tell where the wound actually was, but she guessed cleaning up the arm was the first task regardless of any other questions she might have.

The task was quiet, just the occasional splash of water as she rinsed off the cloth she was using. She found herself concentrating, making sure to be gentle as she could as she had no idea where the wound was. The Beast found herself struggling to stay focused on the flames. She was being treated so gently. Why? Why was she going out of her way to help her? The questioning felt almost as bad as the wound, like some false hope had wormed its way inside her head. She almost did question, the words forming then rearranging in her head, but a sharp pain interrupting her thoughts pushing out everything else in her head.

She yelled, short and sharp though it still sounded more akin to a roar and yanked her arm away. Capsize didn’t quite flinch. She hadn’t expected to find the wound so soon, but she had hoped she was being gentle enough. Clearly, she was mistaken. There likely wasn’t any amount of gentle enough for a wound to not at least sting when being cleaned. Still, she couldn’t just stop because of that.

“You need to keep still,” She said, sternly but not without sympathy. She understood the pain of getting wounds treated, obviously she did, but there wasn’t really anything she could do about that. Thankfully, despite the fact that it had initially looked a mess, the actual wounds were not all that deep. There were three long scratches, but they seemed manageable. The Beast tried to bite back her frustration. She didn’t want to yell, didn’t want any sort of repeat of their previous interactions, but she also didn’t want to be around anyone. Her arm hurt, even with the careful actions touching the wound sent even more waves of pain through it. She wanted to be alone, completely alone, to just wallow and ignore the fact that anything is wrong. And, seeing that her commands had not been listened to by the woman in the slightest, the only thing she could think to do was yell and insult until she left of her own accord. “I know it hurts, but it’ll sting less and go quicker if you stay still.”

“It wouldn’t hurt at all if you hadn’t run off,” She said, deliberately trying to sound harsh. She watched the woman’s face flatten, her eyebrows lowered, and she frowned. But she didn’t leave, she just sighed.

“I wouldn’t have run if you hadn’t frightened me,” She said, barely raising her voice. She didn’t have the fear of Fox she previously did, and frankly was not in the mood for whatever argument she wanted to have. She was not going to take being yelled at and blamed for this situation. Though she was, frankly, confused by why the Beast was acting this way. She must surely care at least in some way, else she wouldn’t have saved her in the first place, but at the same time she seemed almost resentful towards her being in the castle at all despite that being entirely her fault. “And no matter who you think is responsible, the pain isn’t going to stop unless your wound gets treated. So, I would suggest that you sit still and let me help you.”

“I--!” She tried to come up with any argument, anyway, to be belligerent and get her to leave. However, looking at her she shrank back down. There was something about Capsize that made her feel as though she had to listen, like there was no question that she was the one in charge. It was almost overwhelming how confident she seemed, but she wasn’t cold, just clear. She could not find the words nor the will to argue against her, so she just silently put her arm back. She should hate the feeling, this was her castle, she was the one in charge! Yet… she did not mind. There was something about how the woman looked at her, not like she was a noble nor a monster that was so fascinating and gave her such a warm feeling that she would not chance changing it. Though she knew that it would change, at least if she did not change the way that she had been acting, with her yelling and allowing her frustrations to get the better of her. What exactly was she meant to do though? Tom would say that she should do some grand gesture to get romance going, but this definitely didn’t feel like the moment to do anything of the sort. She knew, as she looked at the focused woman, that she needed to say something. She had to try to fix the situation that she had created. “I’m sorry for yelling at you… and for scaring you…”

“Thank you,” Capsize looked up for a moment, almost unsure what to make of what sounded like a genuine apology especially as Fox was looking down at the floor. She had not spoken so softly before, even the first night her gentler words had been interlaced with growling and yelling. She seemed so vulnerable for the first time. Capsize placed a gentle hand atop her paw. “And thank you for saving my life.”

“You… you don’t need to thank me for that,” She said, so quietly that it was only audible because they were right not to each other. The Beast did not want to admit that she had been terrified upon realising the danger she had been in, that she was beyond glad that she received a major injury rather than her. Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing to admit, but she did not feel in any way safe in saying it. Capsize tried to look at her, but she was still looking into the fire and avoiding her eyes. She chewed a little on the inside of her cheek as she looked back down at the injury and continued to treat the injury. Only then did the Beast speak again. “Why did you come back? You could’ve left and gone back to your life.”

“Well, whether you want to be thanked or not, I wasn’t going to abandon someone who saved my life,” She said, quite sure of her words, but hesitant to say the rest of the truth. She did not want there to be any mistake about the unfairness of the circumstances for her being here. She still was not happy about her freedom being taken, even if she had willingly come back, but she also knew the truth in her own thoughts. The life she had been living, the one she had given up in order to remain here, was not the life that she missed and resented losing. But did that really need to be said out loud? Likely not, but perhaps it would make clear that her help was not some form of paid debt. “And there was not much for me to go back to. Aside from my brother, I only had one friend. I can’t exactly say I had much love for that town.”

“Oh, I… I’m…”

“Don’t be sorry, Fox. It’s an unfortunate fact, but it’s not like you had anything to do with it,” She said, trying to laugh and sound as neutral as possible about the situation so as to not give away how much the town actually bothered her, how there was some part of her glad to never see the place again. However, for the first time since entering the room, her face was not quite steady. There was a clear frown, and while she had tried to stop them, a tear was rolling down her cheek. And the Beast found herself staring, wishing more than anything that she could cheer her up. She couldn’t understand how she could only have a single friend when she was so kind, so needlessly kind. She was a monster, a beast who had taken her prisoner and she was helping her and… she had called her Fox. She could call her monster and it would be completely reasonable, but she didn’t. What had been wrong with that town to not want to treat her kindly? And Fox thought of her own actions, and realised she needed to do something, however small, to make up for them. And something sprung to mind, something she had been keeping hidden for such a long time.

“Anyone who rejects your friendship is clearly a fool. You’ve only been here a few days and I don’t think I’ve ever seen everyone so happy,” She said. Capsize laughed a little, a sound that made the room feel lighter. It was enough to almost make the Beast feel confident in saying her next words. Almost. “And I should know myself… I’ve been terrible, and I know that it’s not possible to start over, but… let me introduce myself properly. My name is Sonja.”

It felt wrong to say out loud after so long of rejecting her own name like she had rejected every remainder of her humanity. Capsize looked not quite in shock, but definitely in confusion. She had suspected that Fox had not been entirely truthful about her lack of name, but she had not expected it to be so ordinary. Their eyes met briefly, the Beast quickly looking away as she still felt shameful. She wished she could hide or take her words back. But that wasn’t a choice she actually had. Instead, she just had to continue on.

“I’ve not used it in years, but if you—”

“Why?” Capsize questioned before actually thinking about how inappropriate such a question might be. The Beast knew she couldn’t tell the whole story, that her name was a remnant of a human that no longer existed, but she needed to say something. She couldn’t keep avoiding topics because she wanted to ignore them.

“It is not a name for a beast,” Her voice betrayed her grief. She hated what she had become, but it was so much easier to try and forget and cast away her previous self than have the crushing feeling of longing for it back and knowing she never could. Capsize heard her tone and, though she had no idea its actual cause, she understood the grief all the same.

“Perhaps not…” She started, wishing she had fully formed her thoughts before starting to speak as she saw the way Fox shrank away. It felt wrong for her not to yell, and indeed it felt far worse. But she needed to actually think, because she did not want to say empty words. “But I doubt many people would say my name is one for a woman. Names aren’t rewards; you don’t need to be deserving to have one. And, for whatever it’s worth, I think Sonja is a nice name.”

The Beast looked back at her, not quite believing what she had heard. She was met with Capsize genuinely smiling at her. A small smile, but it was warmer and lighter than the fire burning beside them. And, for the first time in years, Sonja smiled too.

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