#ask-a-merchant-garden

[possiblyinsanemerchant]

@ask-a-merchants-garden, continued from hence ask.

"Hm..Oh! si it is, but not in the way you may think amigo! All sugar here is made from grown and harvested Sugarcane, we no longer do the Smokestacks since the Re-Wiring.

[Stands a tad more rigid until shaking himself from his stupor and refocusing on the topic at hand.] ... ///

It was a bit odd to eat a cake in the Zones, and for a moment Zacharie hesitated as the other pushed the plate towards him. The...years here had made him somewhat averse to sugar, even if he never really was hungry.

To be fair the first few times he had indulged with Sucre...well, the ramifications of that particular bit were not best pondered upon. But it did mean that he would be hypocritical if he suddenly decided that he was diabetic.

So Zacharie did what any sensible person would do. He picked up the entire slice, regarded it critically, tilted up his mask, and shoved it into his piehole.

"Prfehty gfoord johrb." The other Zacharie - no, Martinez or Zachie, for simplicity's sake, blinked. Zacharie rolled his eyes, and swallowed. "̴P̵r̷e̷t̴t̷y̷ ̴g̵o̷o̶d̴ ̸j̸o̴b̴.̶ G̸o̵o̷d̷ ̸u̶s̷e̵ ̷o̴f̷ ̸a̸l̶l̶ ̶t̸h̵a̵t̴ ̴t̸i̸m̴e̶ ̷o̵n̵ ̷o̵u̶r̵ ̸h̵a̴n̶d̵s̷.̷ ̷Y̶o̸u̷ ̵s̶h̴o̸u̷l̶d̸ ̸t̵r̶a̴v̸e̷l̷ ̵o̶u̸t̸s̴i̶d̵e̴ ̴y̵o̷u̸r̸s̵e̶l̸f̵ ̸-̸ ̸m̷a̴k̴e̶ ̵a̸ ̴s̷m̴a̴l̶l̵ ̴f̴o̵r̸t̵u̷n̶e̴.̶ M̴a̵y̷b̴e̷ ̶a̵ ̸M̴a̶r̵t̷i̷n̸e̸z̷ ̷P̷a̴t̶i̶s̸s̵e̷r̴i̴e̴ ̴f̷r̵a̸n̸c̸h̶i̷s̶e̷ ̵a̴s̵ ̷w̷e̶l̴l̸.̸"

The cake was velvety. Was that the right term to use? It tasted...well, sweet. Maybe not enough - an eyelid, unnoticed, twitched at that thought.

He hurriedly put the plate down.

"I̶ ̶p̶e̵r̸s̸o̵n̴a̴l̵l̶y̴ ̷d̵o̵n̷'̴t̸ ̷h̷a̶v̷e̸ ̵a̵ ̴m̸a̶r̸k̸e̵t̷a̸b̴l̵e̵ ̴n̶a̴m̴e̴;̸ ̵o̷u̶r̸ ̶s̸h̵a̶r̸e̴d̵ ̶t̸r̷a̷d̷e̸m̶a̶r̵k̷ ̴s̵e̵r̸v̷e̴s̷ ̵i̸t̷s̷ ̶p̵u̷r̸p̵o̵s̶e̷ ̴a̵ ̴b̸i̵t̶ ̷t̸o̵o̴ ̶w̴e̷l̶l̸.̴" he said, "B̴u̶t̴ ̶t̷h̷e̷y̶ ̴u̸s̵e̸d̸ ̴t̴o̶ ̷s̸h̷o̴r̴t̷e̸n̸ ̶m̴y̸ ̶U̴R̶L̴ ̶a̴ ̵b̷i̶t̷.̸ N̴o̶t̵ ̷a̷ ̶g̴o̵o̶d̵ ̵l̴o̷o̷k̴ ̷w̷h̴e̴n̵ ̸y̷o̸u̴ ̴g̵r̸o̶w̷ ̵o̴l̷d̴e̵r̵,̴ ̸b̷u̷t̸ ̴l̶e̸t̷'̵s̴ ̶g̸o̵ ̸w̵i̶t̵h̸ ̶t̸h̶a̵t̷.̸"

And as for travel...

"It̷ ̴h̴a̵s̷ ̷b̵e̷e̷n̵ ̴a̷ ̴w̴h̴i̵l̷e̷.̴ ̵T̴h̵e̴ ̸l̷a̵s̸t̵ ̴I̴ ̸r̷e̷m̵e̸m̷b̵e̸r̵ ̸w̵a̶s̵ ̶d̴r̸i̸n̴k̸i̷n̸g̴ ̵q̵u̴i̶t̷e̸ ̶h̷e̷a̸v̸i̴l̴y̷ ̸t̸o̵ ̶e̶s̸c̴a̷p̶e̸ ̶s̸o̸m̵e̸ ̶q̵u̶e̶s̴t̷i̴o̶n̶s̵.̴" he said, rubbing his chin. Maybe he might have stocks of tea in his bag for this. "B̵u̶t̵ ̴a̸ ̶f̸e̷w̷ ̵j̸a̷u̴n̶t̵s̸.̸.̶.̵ ̶w̵e̸l̶l̵,̸ ̸C̵h̵i̴c̷a̴g̵o̸ ̴w̵i̶t̸h̸ ̴a̴ ̸c̴i̶t̸y̵w̵i̵d̴e̵ ̶A̶I̸ ̶s̶e̴e̷m̶s̷ ̶t̵o̵ ̶b̸e̸ ̸p̸o̵p̷p̸i̷n̸g̴ ̸u̷p̷ ̷q̵u̴i̶t̵e̴ ̶a̶ ̵b̶i̷t̷ ̸i̷n̸ ̸m̵y̷ ̴m̵e̸m̶o̴r̷i̷e̷s̸.̷ ̵O̷r̵ ̷t̸h̸a̷t̵ ̶p̴o̸s̴t̷-̸a̶p̶o̶c̵a̶l̷y̶p̸t̷i̴c̸ ̶e̸a̸r̷t̵h̷ ̷w̸h̶e̸r̴e̴ ̷i̶t̷ ̶w̷a̶s̷ ̶i̸n̵ ̴t̴h̶e̸ ̸g̷l̵a̴r̷i̶n̵g̴ ̷s̷u̴n̸ ̶p̸e̷r̵m̶a̴n̵e̷n̷t̴l̶y̴.̷.̶.̶"

[thestuffedalligator]

When ogres travel, they do so in human shape.

They hate doing this. They think it’s beneath them. But they do it anyway.

The Vicomte Graoul de Saucisson – and this is another thing about ogres. Ogres as a species are nobility. There is no such thing as a low-born ogre. There is always room in the ogrish peerage for another vicomte, another prince, another branch to tie to the rotted tree – strode up to the chateau in human shape. The roses in the garden shivered as he passed by. The huge, high doors opened by themselves and he walked through them without a shift in his stride.

When the doors slammed shut behind him, he moved to shrug the shape off his shoulders like a coat.

Then he saw the woman.

He froze. He stared. She stared back.

He slowly pulled the shape back on. “Who are you?” he asked.

She looked mildly appalled. “Who are you?” she asked. “What are you doing in my home?”

“Your home? This is–” He stopped. He reconsidered. “I am the Vicomte de Saucisson,” he said. “I’m looking for the Marquis de Pamplemousse. He is a… colleague of mine.”

“Oh,” she said. She could’ve looked more abashed. “I’m sorry, monsieur, he’s never mentioned you before. You must be here to share your congratulations, of course, I can fetch him right away.”

“He’s never mentioned you either,” the vicomte did not say. “Of course,” he said. “Congratulations. What about?”

She seemed surprised. “Have you not heard? Monsieur, the curse on my husband has been lifted.”

He stared. His lips started to form the words “What curse,” and then there was a sound like a horse falling down a set of stairs and a man he had never seen before wearing the marquis’s clothes came barrelling down the hall.

“Vicomte!” said the man with the marquis’s voice. “My human friend! The curse has been lifted, and I am a human once again!”

He was slightly out of breath when he reached the woman. He clasped her arm and grinned at him with manic desperation. “This is wonderful news! You must be here to share your congratulations!”

“Lie like hell,” said the man’s eyes.

The vicomte stared. “Oh!” he said. “My – human friend! Human once again! Words fail me. After all these–” (there was the slightest hesitation) “–years?”

The woman put her head at an angle and narrowed her eyes at him.

The man walked up, still grinning like a rictus chimpanzee, and clasped a hand on his shoulder. “Yes, of course! Darling, me and the vicomte are going to have a manly one-on-one conversation while he shares his congratulations, as we human men are wont to do.” And then with a strength that could only be ogrish, the marquis pulled the vicomte by the shoulder down the hall and into a drawing room.

When the bolt of the lock clicked into place behind them, the man wearing the marquis’s clothes visibly sagged.

“What the hell,” said the vicomte.

“You should’ve sent word ahead that you'd be coming today.”

“I never do.” He gesticulated and tried to conjure a single question out of the swarm buzzing in his brain. “What the hell is going on? Who was that? Why are you pretending to be human? What curse are we talking about?”

The marquis groaned and crumpled into a chair. As he did he shifted out of human shape, clothes magically tailoring themselves to contain his ogrish form, something like a moose and an orangutan.

“I had a moment of weakness.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t a stroke?”

“I got married.”

“And that’s another thing–”

“Graoul, please.” He sighed and put his face in his talons. “Last winter a merchant broke into my home. He stole one of my roses, and in exchange I asked him to send me one of his daughters to be my bride.”

The vicomte nodded. This at least was a sacred and recognizable ogrish custom, and he did like to see the old ways in practice.

“And it was fine! It was perfectly lovely. She’s a wonderful woman, but one night I decided to put on a human shape to change things up in the bedroom, and she lost her mind! Started talking about how I was clearly an enchanted prince and that her love for me must’ve broken some curse and turned me human again! I had no idea how to tell her otherwise, and now I’ve done it for too long to back out.”

The vicomte stared. “Sorry,” he said. “You decided to turn into a human to spice things up in the bedroom, and that was the face you chose?”

The marquis growled. “If I knew I was going to be wearing it for the rest of my life I would’ve gone with something better.”

[cleansingwrath]

Hola, dear obstinate Batter. Merchant of other trades here. What do you plan to go about doing?

There was a Zacharie that he knew - the last he had crossed paths with that Zacharie his Puppeteer had seemed to flit between the both of them. It generated quite a lot of tension and made the other more and more annoyed until he had requested them to leave.

This was not that Zacharie. The Puppeteer's Zacharie was not very friendly.

He looked at the merchant. He looked at the shop. It was tidy and small. It was not part of the Zones he was familiar with. But the Puppeteer had explained something about unmooring, and the disruption that Zacharie's essential nature had caused with earlier writings. The Batter had not bothered really listening to it, as he paced in the void.

In lieu of a response he hefted his bat and placed it on Zacharie's counter. It had seen better days. Most Zacharie had wares.

[theroyalyandere]

request: So what I am thinking about is Yandere prince× reader who is tge daughter of a merchant and his childhood bestie. They have a 5 year gap and when she turned 20,she was getting engaged. So he level ups lol. Its ok if you wanna write it in headcanon style or fiction style I just want to read a royal au (I am a sucker for it.) Can I please ask it to be a little longer your emperor one was really good so it being small had really made me thirsty 🤒 and can you make it 18+ I mean yk 👀, obviously if you are comfortable. Thanks for reading all of my ramblings.

thank you for the request! :D

yandere!prince x merchant's daughter!reader (smutty 18+)

your father is a wealthy merchant close to the king and it makes sense that when you were born, you were presented at the court by the royal family's presence.

when yandere!prince first saw you he adored how a lovely baby you were and was eager to hold you. he treated you like a baby sister due to him being an only child.

you spent your childhood being at the palace mostly by the young prince's side with how compatible the both of you are.

even as a child he's very possessive of you, he does not want any children being at your proximity or anyone getting your attention away from him.

being the prince he is, you always follow his orders and in return spoiled by him.

a few years later, his platonic affections turned into romantic ones as he saw you blossom into a fine young woman.

he grew into a great prince while you were known to be the gentle and sweet girl always be his side.

he was 25 and you were 20.

he started to treat you like a lover would and it baffles you.

you tried to turn him down but he became even more affectionate when you ignore him.

you can't deny how handsome and charming he is that is making you grow flustered every minute you spend time with him.

he's known to being a gentleman when it comes to treating ladies with respect mostly showing them to you.

he's similar to how a dragon would hoard his treasure.

you're his happiness and he wouldn't want anyone or anything to take you away from him.

he treated you so well he doesn't even look at the other girls that were offered to him.

he isolates you from everyone else to the point his parents and your parents became concerned with the way he always hover around you.

when he found out your father engaged you to another noble he was angry.

you are his to claim and his to love and because of that he made a plan.

first he took you out like usual and then to the garden where you confided about your betrothal.

he feels his irritation rising with every word coming out of your mouth.

you told him that you heard some of the other girls how they got their virginity taken

which sparked your curiosity and made him grow even more hopeful on making his plan into action.

so he offered to teach you how to kiss and please a man.

you were quite reluctant but you were determined to be experienced so you agreed.

his first lesson was kissing.

at that moment he took your first kiss at the garden, he was extremely handsome and although you thought of him as an older brother with him being the only boy you spend your time with.

your kisses were clumsy but he taught you how to move you lips and tongue in accordance with his.

his kisses slowly became passionate and you have to stop him before your heart flies out of your chest.

you pull away from him breathlessly.

he chuckles at how you already look like a mess but you couldn't deny how it made you want for more.

so you pulled him close and told him to shut up and continue.

he smirks before diving back into kissing your soft lips.

he became even hungry and he also wanted more.

you couldn't forget the moment how he took you to his chambers where he undressed you and caressed your skin.

the way he gropes your body like he owns you.

he sucks deep harsh marks all over your skin and his hands roaming to appreciate your beauty. his sole focus was on you.

you whine at the marks he leaves your skin but he insists that its part of love making.

he looked at you with lust and passion behind his eyes his lips wet from the passionate kiss you both had shared.

he lovingly laid you down on his bed and took down his clothes revealing his glorious body.

he looked down at you as if you're the only treasure and the most beautiful thing on the world.

his intensity made you shy away making you hide your face into the sheets while you weakly slam your hand onto his chest.

he chuckles and he only kisses your cheek sweetly making you even more flustered so you told him to hurry up.

"my my~ so impatient."

he prepares you by spreading your pussy with his mouth and fingers, eating you out like a dessert.

you can't help but arch your body as he coaxes sounds out of you.

your body is only his to control and pleasure and you love every moment of it.

when you came on his tongue and came back up with him licking your wetness from his fingers.

you clench your thighs at the sight and this goes noticed by him.

"ready my dear?"

you nod and he slowly pushes into your wet untainted cavern.

the prince claimed you as his the moment his hard cock penetrated your wet pussy.

the moment he entered you he went feral at the feeling of your pussy enveloping his member.

he takes it slow until the pain subsides and the completely destroys you.

"fuck~ you take me so well my darling~"

he keeps pounding into you that you almost couldn't breathe.

your beloved prince doesn't dare to leave your pussy with the way it's clamping down on his cock.

he keeps fucking you until you orgasm intensely and he spills his hot load into your womb.

you immediately fall asleep after but he pulls out to watch cum leak out of your cunt.

he kisses your forehead whispering you did well and cleaned you up before cuddling you.

after that he was determined to cut off your engagement so he studied hard to the point of neglecting you but he apologized by sending gifts to your way.

with his harsh presence gone you saw how people gravitate to you and you became popular for who you are.

but you also noticed how some of the closest ones to you disappeared

you also met your future fiancé but in the back of your mind was your beloved prince.

time passes, days before your wedding the king suddenly fell dead and the prince was immediately coronated as king.

you watch him look at you within the crowd as he was hailed as the new king of the kingdom.

at the day of your wedding he was invited as an honored guest.

he watched your every movement and you felt his eyes staring holes at you.

he smiled for your sake but on the inside his anger is bubbling up especially the way your fiance now husband kissed you. he clenched his fist and clapped along everyone else, oblivious to the plan he was brewing.

at the reception, everyone was happy until your husband suddenly falls dead infront of you causing chaos.

the feast then became a funeral with the prince consoling you.

the next day, he offered to engage you to him infront of everyone even your parents.

your answer shall determine your fate.

A/n: the ending is kinda meh but I hope you like this!

[thebadboyfanclub]

You Bled For Them, You Decide Pt.1 (Daemon x Reader)

Once again this was challenging but so fun to write, I hope you guys like as well. Enjoy!

-

Daemon Targaryen or else known as “the rogue prince” had inherited the free spirit of his mother, for years he traveled as he lusted over two things, war and women. He loved his life and new found freedom after the… sudden death of his lady wife Rhea. The night after Rhaenyras wedding he fled and in a spur of the moment finding refugee in Pentos, the prince of pentos welcomed him with open arms as soon as Daemon landed with Caraxes and even threw a celebration in his honour.

That’s where he met her, (y/n). She was the daughter of a gemstone and dragonbone merchant, she stood next to her father when Daemon first laid eyes on her, her hair dark and long, her (y/e/c) eyes pierced with through his heart and made him feel like he was thrown to the flames, she held the moon and stars in those hues of hers, her lips tempting him as she bit them, her body was barely covered by a dress, it was normal for the women to dress with light materials due to the heat of the city, it did wonders for Daemons imagination. As the breeze went through her the herbal scent hit him like a brick. She was sent by the Gods for him

“It was like fate had struck me”

He would often say. It wasn’t long until he married her, her father was delighted when he saw Daemon Targaryen asking for his daughters hand. (Y/n) had prayed for their union right after that night, she could sense that this was the man for her, the man that would stand by her side until the end of their days.

Daemon spend his days and nights in her arms, the only thing that dragged him out of the bed was his dragon, other than that he spend it pleasuring his wife. Oh what a sight she was when she trembled under his touch, he held her tightly as he took her through the roads of pleasure, the servants would blush and ran away as they would couple wherever and whenever, the study room, the gardens, the bath, even up in the air while Daemon road his dragon, (y/n) rode Daemon.

It wasn’t long until (y/n) was with child, Princess Alyssa was first, (y/n) gave birth by herself in the garden with the help of her husband under a full moon, she did not trust the maesters. Not long after that came the triplets, prince Aevor, princess Eraessa and princess Aerella that were born by the help of their father in their bath on a cold rainy day, (y/n) always felt at home when surrounded by water. On the triplets first nameday (y/n) gave birth to prince Victor, unfortunately (y/n) laid ill with fever for two morrows after that birth, Daemon never left her side since he feared that he would suffer the fate of his father and brother, of course a little while after (y/n) was surrounded by her children and husband as she pushed out a daughter Johanna.

“We have been summoned”

“For what my love?”

“Laenas funeral, she died during childbirth, she commanded her dragon to set her on fire”

(Y/n) rubbed on her growing belly at the news, she had never met Daemons family yet her heart ached for the woman, every woman had feared of childbirth, all of them were willing to take the risk for their kins still their hearts skipped a beat when the labour pains began.

Daemon saw the pain in his lady wives eyes, he took her hands to place kisses on her knuckles as a way to comfort her, they didn’t have to speak about it, the eyes said everything that needed to be spoken.

“Do you want to go?”

“My brother pleaded, he wishes to be introduced to our children”

“I did not ask about your brother, I asked what do you want”

Daemon was thankful for his wife for countless reasons, one of them was her patience with him and the way she made him feel important, all his life he spend yelling to be heard and now he had someone that he could whisper to. Daemon kissed his wife on the lips softly as a way to say thank you to her, he was never good with words so physical touch was his way of showing gratitude.

“We shall leave on the morrow”

-

(Y/n) rode on her husbands dragon as she held on to him tightly, she could see why Daemon and her children loved riding so much, the peaceful feeling mixed with the power it brings, it was addicting to say the least.

After the family landed the first one to touch ground was Daemon who was careful enough to assist (y/n) by holding her waist until her feet are steady, (y/n) rushed to the eldest daughter Alyssa whom was holding little Johanna, her hatchling was way too small and she was far too young to ride, Alyssa had volunteered as to being the one to hold her sister for the ride.

(y/n) took the babe in her arms and she quite envied how it was the only one that was dressed in white clothing, (y/n) had to prepare an all black dress in just a few hours which had been a struggle given the fact that her babe was due any minute now.

“How was she?”

“I believe she slept the entire way, she seemed to stir awake as we were landing”

Alyssa always felt the responsibility for her siblings, her parents had embedded in her brain “family sticks together” that they would repeat almost every day. (Y/n) turned back to her husband with their daughter on her hip, Daemon was already greeted by his brother, king Viserys.

(Y/n)s courage seemed to waver for a moment as she did not make a step to approach the two brothers, they had never been introduced since the couple had eloped in pentos and resided there for their entirety of their wedding.

“(Y/n)”

Daemon spoke softly, his hand reaching out for her. (Y/n) pushed every bad thought aside and made her way to her husbands side with their daughter, as she stopped king Viserys smiled brightly, his eyes immediately focusing on the little girl.

“Gods be good, how old?”

“She is almost two, her name is johanna after my mother”

“Beautiful, congratulations brother you have been blessed with a wonderful family. May I hold her?”

“Of course… your grace”

(Y/n) did not quite know how to address him, alas she passed Johanna to king Viserys who beamed with joy as he held her. Johanna was not a difficult child nor did she cry a lot, she seemed quite comfortable in her uncles arms.

“My apologies I completely ignored your lady wife and we have never been introduced. What is your name?”

“I am (y/n)… your grace”

She introduced herself as she took a small curtsy, well as low as her condition allowed to do so without falling down. technically pentos was a free country yet the soul of the ground she was now stepping on was under the Targaryen legacy so it was almost obligating. King Viserys laughed lightly at (y/n)s uneasiness, at first he was furious at his brother running off to marry a nobody, as the years passed and caught wind of how Daemon was content with his family and had brought so many children with the woman, his heart soften.

“You needn’t bow dear, we are family. I have heard tales about your choice in the matter of giving birth”

“My mother gave birth to twelve children, she always said how nobody knows better than the woman”

“Your mother was fearless but some assistance would never hurt”

“If my time comes while I give birth to my children then there is nothing a… man can do, it is something above our powers and so far I have been victorious”

“I assume there is no greater force than the force of a mother. Let us join the others, it is almost time for the ceremony”

In pentos they spoke bastard Valyrian so (y/n) could somewhat understand what the man was saying as he send his niece away to the afterlife. (Y/n) clung on to her husband for comfort as the ceremony brought her worry and sadness, being surrounded by unfamiliar faces that grieved in a ceremony of a woman she never met brought a certain discomfort to (y/n).

Daemon gave his wife’s hand a squeeze as he leaned down to place a kiss on the top of her head, Daemon feared for her life every time she was to give birth, he was never a religious man yet internally he would pray to the old and new gods for a safe delivery.

“Lady Laena leaves two true-born daughters on the shore. Though their mother will not return from her voyage, they will all remain bound together in blood. Salt courses through Velaryon blood. Ours runs thick. Ours runs true. And ours must never thin.”

Before (y/n) could comprehend what was said and the reason behind those sly remarks when the man gazed at a woman who had her arms wrapped around two boys the ceremony was interrupted by a baby crying in the near distance, her ears perked up at the sound of her youngest daughter wails. Alyssa tried to shush the babe to no avail, the child was begging for it’s mother, (y/n) fleeted her husbands side to soothe her baby and to also make it stop crying while the ceremony is taking place.

“I’m sorry mother”

“It’s alright Alyssa, Johanna is probably hungry, aren’t you my little sunshine?”

The babe settled as (y/n) rocked Johanna in her arms, she did not try to go back in her place, they had already brought enough attention to them for now, she remained close to her children who all surrounded her, it was quite the scene as 5 children build a wall around a woman that looked nothing like them.

Alyssa had her grandmothers eyes, one was violet and the other green, the triplets had silver white hair but all had different colour eyes, prince Aevor was a spitting image of his father, princess Eraessa had green eyes and Aerellahad violet, Victor had inherited his grandfathers black colour and Johanna seemed to match her sister with violet eyes and a few strands of black hair intertwined with her silver hair.

All of them looked like Targaryens which had caused a stir in everyone’s hearts along with judgement, there she was a woman that had no correlation to the Targaryen bloodline or any type of royal bloodline yet her children looked like what true born heirs should be.

“How is moon and my stars?”

Daemon would call his family that at the explanation of the moon and the stars were the only way you could find home while sailing or riding dragons. Daemon cradled his youngest daughter in his arms to ease the weight his wife was carrying, she was already burdened with a child in her guts she mustn’t hold another.

“Father can we go explore please?”

“Of course, Alyssa please escort your siblings, make sure they are safe”

“Of course father”

As the kids scurried away little Johanna was the only one that remained, she was too young to go with the others. (Y/n) turned to her husband with a disapproving look

“Alyssa is a child my love we mustn’t put such responsibility on her”

“She is our first born and she is perfectly capable of protecting her siblings, you coddle her”

“Would that be so bad? To keep my child safe and allow her to enjoy her adolescence?”

“Alyssa looks like our mother, she always spoke of how we could never get rid of her and it is only natural that she chose you to make her way back to us”

Daemons brother interrupted the quarrel as he approached them, a blonde haired woman who (y/n) assumed was close or maybe a year younger next to him, she was the one that the man was staring at when he spoke. What made (y/n) question the woman’s approach was how she took in her husband, it reminded (y/n) of a hawk inspecting its prey.

Daemon was amazed when he first took in Alyssa’s appearance, it was only fair that the babe got his mothers name, under the light of the full moon he swore to sacrifice everyone to keep his family safe.

“Mothers spirit could not be stopped by death, sometimes when she gets frustrated I swear it is our mother hiding behind my daughters eyes”

“Alyssa might have your mothers name but she is her own person and she will write her own story. Such expectations are a heavy burden for a young girl”

(Y/n) interrupted, she understood her husbands love and devotion to their family still she was also a mother and she wanted her child to have a quiet and happy life, to live without a target on her back, Daemon was driven by ambition, (y/n) was driven by compassion.

Viserys smiled fondly at the young woman, he detected the powerful urge of the mother spreading her wings to protect her young ones. The woman on his side kept looking at Daemon, (y/n) doubted that she even heard any part of the conversation, she also could feel that the woman was waiting to be greeted or for her presence to be acknowledged.

Daemon brought his wife closer to him by a gentle grip on her waist, sometimes he would forget that his wife had a backbone of her own and was not easily persuaded when it came to such delicate matters, he had fought wars and seen the worst in people, still he took a step back when it came to his wife. Their dynamic worked only if both of them made the effort, Daemon was the protector when it came to the outside but indoors (y/n) had the final decision.

“You bled for them, you decide”

Daemon had once muttered to her, it was a sign of respect from him, he was forever in her debt for the continuation of her sacrifices to expand their family.

“If I didn’t know any better I would say your wife has dragons blood in her dear uncle”

“Pentos is a free country my lady, we have fought for our freedom, allow me to say we have our own fire that burns bright”

“(Y/n) this is my daughter Rhaenyra, my heir”

“Pleasure to meet you princess”

“Likewise, is this your child?”

“One of them yes, her name is Johanna, I believe the entire trip and ceremony tired her out”

(Y/n) cooed at her baby girl as she petted the girls silver hair, Johanna had leaned into her fathers shoulder with her eyes half closed, poor thing was fighting against slumber.

Rhaenyra felt a pain in her heart as she looked at the couple, Daemon had never been so gentle with Rhaenyra or anyone for that matter, now he didn’t even spare a glimpse in her direction as he was occupied with gazing lovingly at his wife, she felt jealousy boil in her heart thinking she was supposed to be the one in (y/n)s place.

“One of them?”

“Yes, the gods have been quite generous, we have 6 children now”

“Such… great news”

She mumbled. Rhaenyra was stunned, 6 children. Daemon had never discussed the matter of children in the past, now he fathered 6 kids and another one was on the way. Rhaenyra felt the ground disappear beneath her feet as her heart beat so fast she could swear that it was going to come out from her throat.

“Excuse me”

Rhaenyra managed to grumbled as she stumbled away from the couple, she could not believe what she had witness. Rhaenyra did her best to keep her composure until she was out of sight, not only has her first love moved on and has a happy family -something that she was robbed from- he had now unintentionally blown her cover and paraded his Targaryen featured children for everyone.

Part two

Requests are open!

[tokkishouse]

(Sfw) The first time you call him a term of endearment

Characters: Aether, Ayato, Cyno, Gorou, Heizou, Kaeya

Warnings: Fem. leaning nickname in Ayato's (princess), Cyno is implied to be taller than reader, reader is ticklish in Heizou's, mention of alcohol in Kaeya's

WC: 1.4k words total

Pt. 1, Pt. 3

"Aether honey, fetch me my watering pail!" You call out to him, currently hunched over the seeds you had just planted in the soil. You both were doing some tending to the garden you had just recently started in your teapot, and you had just finished the planting process.

You hear the loud crashing and clunking of metal behind you, and you whip your head around to see Aether standing there, hands at his side and gaze focused on you.

"Are you okay?!" You ask, hurriedly rising to your feet to check on him.

"'Honey'...you called me 'honey,'" he breathes out, watching you. You blink once, twice, and then nod.

"I did, yes," you confirm.

His cheeks turn pink and he looks away, pulling his scarf up a bit in an attempt to hide his face. He clears his throat and bends down to grab the watering pail.

"I-I'll just go ahead and get this filled up with water for you," he mumbles and rushes off before you can say anything.

You and Ayato were walking around Inazuma City, soldiers trailing behind to watch over you two. You wanted to see what the merchants were selling, and perhaps say hi to a few old friends.

A jewel in a nearby stand catches your eye, and you drag Ayato over quickly.

"Darling, look! Wouldn't this ruby be beautiful in a necklace?" You coo, leaning down to get a closer look at it.

He falters a bit before he responds, almost taken by surprise by the pet name. Almost. He recovers quickly and responds with his own term of endearment.

"If it pleases my princess, you can have every jewel the owner is selling."

His voice is smooth and the nickname rolls off his tongue flawlessly, sending goosebumps down your back. You look back, eyes bright with excitement while your face is flushed with embarrassment. He gives you a polite smile, as if unaware of the effect of his words on you, and turns to the merchant to make the purchase.

The moon was high, shining through the night sky and down on Sumeru City. The activity was slowed and most everyone inside their homes, save for a few that clung to the shadows, hopeful to take advantage of unsuspecting passerbys. Word spread quickly that the General Mahamatra had returned home though, and those looking to cause trouble quickly dispersed.

"Y/N, I'm back," Cyno announces as he walks inside your home.

He sets aside his polearm and takes off his headpiece, setting it aside on a nearby table. You walk out of the kitchen, wrapped in a blanket and clutching a hot mug of tea in your hand. You smile and step closer to your partner.

"Welcome back Cyno. I trust you served justice well?" You ask, already knowing the answer.

He nods and leans forward, resting his head on your shoulder. You feel the weight of his work melt off upon touch and almost fall over due to him putting all his weight on you.

"Alright love, let's get you to bed," you gently chide, setting aside your mug.

He hums-- in delight you deduce, based on the high-range sound, but makes no move to pull away.

"That's new. Instead of cuddling a bed bug, it seems you'll cuddle a lovebug?"

You groan loudly and shove him off of you gently.

"Nevermind, sleep on the couch!"

You and Gorou were helping the soldiers on Watatsumi Island move the crates of supplies around. You'd been at it since sunrise and the fatigue was starting to eat at you. You drop a crate on the ground with an unceremonious thud and groan, rubbing your back. Gorou's ears pick this up and he instantly turns to you, also grabbing the attention of his fellow soldiers.

"Y/N? Are you alright?" He asks, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

He was easy to read-- his tail sways back and forth, kicking up the dirt and anxiety was clearly filling his body. Had he pushed you too hard? You weren't a member of the Kokomi's platoons so technically this wasn't your responsibility-- you had just offered. You wave him off, flashing him a tired smile.

" 's nothing baby. I just need to rest. I'll catch up, yeah?" You explain, slowly sitting down next to one of the crates.

Gorou's tail straightens out instantly, and he's frozen in his spot. His ears are erect and his eyes widen as red spreads across his face. The soldiers are quick to pick up on their general's embarrassment and they start teasing him. You watch on in amusement but say nothing, leaving your partner to defend himself.

"Heiiiizooooou," you whine loudly as you lay on the couch.

He said that he wouldn't take too long on analyzing some reports for a case he was working on, promising to give you attention shortly. A promise that was made about 45 minutes ago. He always got sucked into his work and while usually, you were fine with that, you were feeling extra clingy today.

"Yesssss Y/N?" He matches your tone, poking his head out from his office. You huff.

"You promised you wouldn't take long. Surely your case can wait an hour or two!" He tsks at you disappointedly, shaking his head.

"Patience is a virtue, Y/N. You have to learn how to exhibit it! You wouldn't want me to let this criminal escape, would you? Imagine all the harm they could cause to Inazuma, or to you! My sweet darling lover!" Heizou mock faints, pressing a hand on his head for dramatic effect, earning an eye roll from you.

"Are you saying you wouldn't be able to take them? Getting weak are we babe?" You gripe, crossing your arms.

He stops in his place and looks at you properly, green eyes blinking owlishly.

"What? Do I have something on my face?" You ask, bringing a hand up to your cheek. He shakes his head, face cracking into a grin.

"I'm your babe, am I?" He teases, slithering over. "Am I your honey bunny too? Your baby? Your sweet love bug and apple of my eye?" With each sickeningly sweet nickname he lists off, he applies more pressure on your body as he tickles you.

You squeal in surprise, kicking your legs in an attempt to get him away. Laughter fills the room and your pleas for him to stop are ignored in favor of hitting all your ticklish spots. In all the excitement, you fail to notice the shine in Heizou's eyes and the tips of his ears turning red.

You and Kaeya had decided to stop by Angel's Share for a drink and to harass Diluc while he worked. The bartender was as curt as ever to him, not letting the calvary captain's teasings get to him. He was always cordial with you though-- never giving you a hard time. He only ever seemed to express disappointment with you when asking about what you saw in his brother.

"I'm still confused about how he managed to secure you as a partner," Diluc questions, giving Kaeya an unimpressed glance.

Kaeya faux gasps quietly, pressing a hand to his chest.

"Diluc dearest, you wound me. I'll have you know that I am a delight and it was my shining personality that won Y/N," he announces matter-of-factly.

You giggle into your cup as the two of them break into a small argument over Kaeya's character. It was nothing serious-- anyone with eyes could tell neither brother was taking the argument seriously. When their gaze turned to you, you pop an eyebrow up.

"Y/N, do tell Diluc just how lovely I am!" He begs, playing up the theatrics.

You swirl your mug a bit, watching the amber liquid slosh around.

"He's my snowdrop, Diluc. He's quite special to me, and you wouldn't know it but he secretly is a big sweetie and-"

Before you can finish, Kaeya's hand is slapped over your mouth. You and Diluc both look over at the man who is now stumbling over his words, cheeks turning dark. He was not prepared to be gifted a nickname so soon, especially in front of his brother.

"I-I think he gets the idea, Y/N," he coughs into his other hand, slowly letting the one covering your mouth drop.

Diluc flashes him a teasing smile.

"I think I do, snowdrop."

@seirenspinel & @xylerray Per your requests❤️

If you want me to do other characters, you can ask!

Requests are open~!

[judesmoonbeauty]

Crown's S-Rank Mission Story Event: Jude Jazza's 95k Bonus Story

This is a fan translation only. Not 100% accurate. Please expect grammatical errors. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not post my translations elsewhere. Translator Notes are marked with*** Dividers: @/natimiles

Victor: Now....this mission is to infiltrate the mansion of a trader who is conducting illegal human trafficking.

Victor: I want you to go to his mansion and find hard evidence of his involvement in human trafficking.

Victor spreads a detailed document on his desk. On it was a picture of a man who appeared to be the target.

Ellis: Oh, this guy…….

Kate: Do you know him?

Ellis: He's the one who's been clashing with Jude lately saying, "I'm a better merchant".

Jude: ….Ah. That guy, I remember him.

Ellis: If I recall correctly, last month he said, "The subordinates I have with me are stronger."

Kate: So, what happened?

Jude: Ellis sank his opponent in seconds.

(Ellis, as expected……)

Jude: It doesn't seem like much of a mission, but do we hafta take this one along too?

Jude points at me with his chin and asks Victor.

Victor: The mansion is large. Wouldn't it be easier to search if you had someone to help you?

Victor: Or is there a reason why you can't take Kate with you?

Jude: ….. I don't mind. Even if I tell ya not to come, you'll come, so at the very least, don't slow me down.

Kate: ….Understood.

It seems that the target merchant's mansion has a lot of servants coming and going.

I went undercover as a maid and Ellis as a gardener, and so we each searched for documents.

(Okay, I was able to sneak in as a maid safely……)

(Jude arranged to buy us some time by talking business with the target, so let's find the documents while we can.)

Housemaid: The new arrival, Kate..... was it? Can you go clean the master's room now that we're done here?

Kate: Yes! I’m coming!

I searched the room for a while, looking for anything suspicious, but could not find the documents.

(I don't think it's in this room...I think it's time to search another place.)

Merchant: Hmm? You must be the new maid.

Just as I was about to leave the room, the merchant came in.

Kate: Ah, yes! I just finished cleaning!

(Why are you here?! Jude should be stalling you for time!)

Merchant: I see. Then, you can take a break here.

Kate:…..Yes?

Merchant: I was just thinking of playing with a girl like you.

The man's hand reached out and forcefully grabbed my shoulder.

Kate: Oh, no, you can't be serious…….

Merchant: Did you refuse too? 

Seriously, most of the servants these days are so cowardly that they yell at you, and quit only after messing with them a little bit.

(That's the reason why there are so many servants coming and going……?!)

Merchant: If you had some money, you'd keep quiet too. Here, I'll give you this.

The man takes out a bill, shoves it into my apron pocket, and leans in close.

Kate: Stop….

(I'm scared! But if I make a fuss here, I'll ruin the mission…..!)

(Somehow, I have to get through this peacefully……)

Frustrated, I try to think of a way out, but nothing comes to mind.

At that moment, the door to the room suddenly opened.

Jude: You're so lively for the middle of the day.

Merchant: Hey…….Jude Jazza! How did you get here?

Jude: I offered ya a business meeting, but ya didn't show up at the table, so I came to pick ya up. Cry with joy.

Jude: Time is money. If you're a merchant, ya understand, right? The price for makin' me wait is high.

Merchant: That was just a slight to humiliate you! Don't come into my room without permission! Get out!

Jude: I’ll leave once I’ve collected the things I’ve forgotten. Let’s go, ya dullard princess. 

Jude brushed off the merchant's hand on my shoulder, and pulled my hand forcefully.

Kate: Jude, the documents……

Jude: Ellis found them in the barn.

Kate: Good…..!

Merchant: Wait, what do you mean "documents"?

Jude: Black documents provin' that ya were involved in human traffickin'. My condolences.

Merchant: You guys were in on it!? It's cowardly to use a honey trap to attract my attention in order to get that.

(……I don't remember doing that.)

Merchant: Shit, if that happens, you'll be along for the ride too! Jude Jazza!! 

The merchant went to the window and pulled the cord that was hanging down.

Immediately, the sound of a loud bell rang out in the mansion.

Kate: What did you do…..?!

Jude: Shit, that burnin' smell...

Merchant: Ha-ha-ha! This is a fire generator.…..The entire mansion is on fire!

Merchant: I was prepared to erase evidence left in the mansion in case of an emergency.

Merchant: I'd rather die here with you than get caught anyway!

Kate: Oh my god…..!

Merchant: Come to think of it, I didn't like you from the first time I met you. Jude!

Merchant: The business partner I had my eye on for money already had you— ugh!

The merchant man was about to say something, but was knocked out by Jude's uppercut…..

Jude: I don't give a shit what he thinks or how he got into crime. Run away.

Kate: It's no good here either. We can't get through with the flames.

Jude: Then, we'll hafta go out the window.

Jude opens the hallway window and looks out.

Kate: Window……we’re on the 4th floor!

Jude: If we follow the rain pipe, we can get down. If we fall, the trees below will cushion the impact.

Kate: ……

The pipe that’s visible through the window is deteriorated, and doesn’t appear durable enough to support two people.

Kate: Jude, please go out here. I’ll look for another exit.

Jude: Another exit? Ya know somethin'?

Kate: I can't…… be sure! So, Jude, please go out here!

Kate: You won’t break the rain drain by yourself Jude.

Even as we were conversing, the flames seemed to be growing stronger, and a loud explosion could be heard somewhere.

Jude: Spit it out quickly before we burn to a crisp…….

The flames were so intense that I knew there was no time for arguments.

Kate: ….. When I was researching this mansion in advance.

Kate: I noticed that there was an unnatural protruding space underground.

Kate: I thought there might be something in the direction of the protrusion, so I followed it…..

Kate: I noticed that there was a detached outbuilding a little further away from the mansion.

Jude: Detached….Oh, that.

Jude looks at the building outside the window.

Kate: Yes. The couple who used to own the mansion had a child.

Kate: But the child was born with fair skin and was sensitive to the sun, and apparently lived in an outbuilding with few windows!

Kate: Maybe there is a hidden underground passage between the outbuilding and the mansion!

Jude: Really.

Jude turns on his heel and heads toward the stairs.

Kate: What, are you going to look for it?! But there's no proof, right?

Jude: In that case, ya should just run down the rain pipe. I'm goin'.

Then Jude and I ran through the burning mansion and managed to reach the basement.

Kate: The unnatural space was in this room.

Jude: ……..

Jude starts banging on the wall with a serious look on his face.

Jude: The walls are thin here. There's a space over there.

Kate: I knew it ......! I'll look for a hammer or something!

Jude: No need.

When Jude throws a roundhouse kick, the basement wall is blown away. And beyond that, there was an underground passage.

(It's amazing how you can break through a wall with a kick…..)

Jude:……It's somethin' you often find in aristocratic mansions. They’ll dig underground and make somethin' like this.

Jude looked astonished as he lit a cigarette with a practiced motion.

Without putting the cigarette in his mouth, he held it out toward the underground passage.

Then, the cigarette smoke trailed into the passage from the back of the hallway.

Jude: …..Thankfully, there's some air. Looks like there's an exit on the other side.

Kate: Let’s go! 

As the two of us proceed through the dimly lit underground passage……

As I stared, the passageway led to the annex.

Kate: Good! We made it out!

We exit the villa and take a breath. Looking toward the mansion, I was horrified to see flames rising so high.

(If we hadn't found the underground passage, we might have died….)

Kate: Oh……I’m sorry.

Jude: ….. I don't know what you're apologizin' for.

Kate: Even though the documents had already been found and the mission had been completed, you still came to the room to look for me, Jude.

Jude: .....That merchant was a womanizer. I had a feelin’ he'd catch ya easily. 

Kate: Perhaps that's why you hesitated to let me accompany you on your first mission?

Jude: Because it would slow us down.

Kate: …….. Plus, we had to flee the fire...... I'm sorry.

Jude: Haha, you’re sorry, you’re sorry, bowin' your head.

Jude: It's true that you were involved in a fire because of your lack of sense.

Jude: But, I guess it was a credit to ya for findin' the underground passage?

I thought I saw Jude faintly smile and my eyes were drawn to him.

(It's not every day that I get a smile like this.)

(I feel like Jude’s acknowledged me....... I'm so happy!)

Jude: Let’s go home, princess.

Kate: Yes! ……ssk.

Kate: ….Jude, could you please go home first?

Jude: Huh?

Kate: I was so busy that I didn't notice it before, but I think I sprained my leg.

Jude: You're so stupidly clumsy, ya know that? Damn, you're a handful, princess.

With a troublesome expression on his face, Jude approached me and squatted on the spot.

Kate: Um….?

Jude: Get on 'fore I change my mind.

Kate: Are you sure?

Jude: The mission won't be completed without your report. It'll be a nuisance if ya don’t come home early.

Kate: Oh, thank you very much....

When I gently climbed onto his back, Jude stood up strong.

Then, he began to walk carefully, without any danger.

Jude's warmth made me so happy, I couldn't help but laugh, and Jude heard it.

Jude: What are you laughing at? I'll drop ya.

Kate: No, please don't!

I hurriedly clung to Jude to avoid being dropped.

Jude: You’re heavy. Should I just throw ya into the river?

Kate: I won't let you go Jude, so then I'll take you with me Jude. 

Jude: After being attacked by fire, now it’s a water attack. It’s all because of you. 

Despite his grumbling and complaining, Jude carried me securely on his back so he didn’t drop me.

(It was a difficult mission, but I'm glad I did my best.)

Even though I'm being swayed back and forth between coldness and kindness, I can't take my eyes off Jude.

(I want Jude to recognize me more... so I'll keep trying from now on.)

***Thanks to further clarification, the translation has been updated to just use the term “honey trap” when the merchant speaks to Jude, versus what I previously rendered as “bait and switch honeytrap”.

[Master List]

[photogirl894]

🌹 Hunter

Red Rose 🌹

This is my contribution to the Clone Flowers Fic Event that myself and some other mutuals are doing this week! Naturally, I had to snag Hunter 😉 I got a little carried away with this one, but honestly, I'm super, super proud of it!!

*Takes place after the events of TBB s3*

Enjoy!! 🥰 (divider by @firefly-graphics)

Being a florist had always been your dream. 

You loved everything about flowers ever since you were young.You had the luxury of traveling to several different planets and systems because your parents were traveling merchants, so you got to see the local flora of different places all the time. You started asking for seeds you could buy or, if it were possible, you’d dig up some plants to take home with you. As you got older, you planted the seeds in a big garden, dreaming of one day selling all these exotic plants you’d collected over the years and sharing them with other people. 

Over your years as a florist, not only had you learned various facts and lore about the plants and flowers you collected, but you had also learned the language of flowers and the meanings or symbolism behind a lot of them. It was fascinating to you how many different meanings were behind each flower, especially when there were so many. You knew which ones represented friendship, courage, fidelity, hope, love…there were a plethora of meanings and you enjoyed each and every one.

When it came time for you to leave home as an adult and start your own life, you continued traveling the galaxy and eventually, you decided to settle on the island of Pabu, a peaceful paradise where you could settle down with a place of your own with your own garden and where you could finally live your dream as a florist. The mayor of the island, Shep, thought that having a florist on the island was a wonderful idea. You were able to open your stall and show and sell all the flowers you collected. You even had little pamphlets that you printed and had on display on your stall for people to read and learn about the different flowers you had as well as the flower language and meanings behind each one.

You thought your life was already perfect...until a certain someone came into your life.

A small family of Clones had been on the island off and on for some time and you’d caught sight of them before. They piqued your curiosity, having never seen Clones on the island before. It wasn’t until they decided to permanently stay on the island that you got to see them around and got to know them more…especially one in particular.

Hunter.

He was probably the dreamiest, most handsome man you’d ever beheld, which was saying a lot considering the many planets you had been to and the numerous men you had seen. You had heard about the sort of person he was, kind and helpful, and you'd seen proof of that in the way he had aided the people of the island multiple times. You found yourself watching him from a distance whenever you saw him either on the streets or in the colonnade. That was kind of a problem because there were a few times he caught you staring and you had to quickly look away, the heat rising in your cheeks at being spotted. Though, you could’ve sworn there were times where you caught him looking your way, too, which only made you even more curious. Though, it was probably just your imagination. There was no way someone like him would be interested in a simple florist woman like you.

The first time you’d gotten to see him up close in person and talk to him, he was out walking with his younger sister, Omega, and their lurca hound. They were passing by and Omega had spotted your stall. She was excited by all the different, exotic blooms you had and wanted to look at them. The way she ran over, her eyes wide with amazement, made you smile.

“I’ve never seen flowers like these before!” she exclaimed, her eyes scanning the many that you had.

“If there are any you want to know about, feel free to ask, young lady,” you said to her. “I’ve gotten several of these from different planets and I can tell you a few fun facts, too.”

That made Omega even more curious. She pointed to an orange, star-shaped flower with a red center. “What is this one?” she asked.

You peeked over to see which particular one she was referring to and then answered, “That’s the Damsel flower. They grow on Endor and here’s an interesting fact about them: they can spray pollen that makes their victims shrink into the size of an insect.”

The kid’s eyes went wide. “No way!” 

“It’s true,” you said with a nod.

Then she pointed to a set of black flowers you had in a vase. “What about these ones?”

“Those are black Fire Lilies,” you told her.

“And these flowers?” 

“Those are Sachi blossoms. I found them on Chandrila and it’s believed that their petals resemble the same shape as canary-moths.”

“Oh wow! Ooh, what about--”

“Omega,” her brother spoke up, stepping closer behind her. “Don’t overwhelm the lady.”

You turned your head to look at him and you chuckled. “I honestly don’t mind. I’m thrilled when I get to share my knowledge of flowers with people, especially children.”

“Well, Omega here definitely loves to learn,” he replied, ruffling her hair and making her snicker. 

It was then Omega spotted another flower and leaned in closer to see it: a set of red flowers in an ornamental vase. “Ooh, what are these?” she asked.

“That’s called Queen’s Heart. They grow around the royal palace on Naboo,” you enlightened her.

As she continued admiring them, she commented, “I love the bright red color.” 

The lurca hound came over, sniffed the flowers and then gave a loud bark with a small hop, seemingly smiling as it wagged its tail. 

“Batcher likes them, too,” Omega added, petting Batcher’s head. Then she looked over her shoulder and said, “Hunter, do you think we can get these for our new house? I think they’d look great!”

He chuckled, putting a hand on his hip. “If that’s what you want, kid. I’m leaving the decorating to you.”

“Yes!” she said with an enthusiastic nod.

You grinned down at the girl. “An excellent choice. How many would you like?”

“I might take just one for now and see if I’ll need more,” she answered.

“Understandable. If you find you want more, you can always find me here,” you told Omega.

After giving them the total for the price, Hunter fished out some credits from a pouch on his belt and handed them to his sister. She gave them to you and you picked up the vase of bright red flowers, placing it gently in her hands. As she took it, she asked you your name and then thanked you after you told her. Then she briskly walked off with Batcher at her heels. 

However, Hunter stayed behind and watched her walk away, a proud grin on his face. “She's been excited about finding things for our new house,” he told you, folding his arms across his chest. 

“You guys are new here, right? Or, at least, you’re now staying on Pabu for good?” you inquired. It was then you happened to notice he was wearing normal civilian clothing instead of his armor like before. Another sign that he was adjusting well to domestic life on the island. Though, he'd kept his signature red bandana, which you figured was a must for his everyday look. Not that you minded. It was a good look on him.

He nodded. “It’s been a long time coming, but yeah…we’re here to stay.” 

“That’s wonderful. Pabu is an amazing place. I think you all will be happy here,” you replied.

A sweet smile directed at you crossed his face and you could feel yourself starting to blush. You shyly brushed a lock of hair behind your ear and turned away, pretending to be examining one of the displays on your stall to hide your reddening face.

“What brought you here?” you heard him ask. 

As you pulled out from a box some clippers and some flowers that needed thorns removed, you answered him while you de-thorned the flowers, “I traveled a lot through the galaxy, searching for all sorts of different and exotic flowers to grow and sell on various planets. In my research of rare flowers, I learned of the blossoms of the weeping maya tree and later discovered that there was one on an island called Pabu. I came here at first to study it and collect the flowers, but found right away that the people here were so incredibly kind and welcoming. It felt like a place I could call home, which was something I hadn’t had in a long time. It didn’t take long for me to decide that I would just settle here and finally pursue being a florist like I always dreamed of.”

“I guess it’s safe to say you really like flowers,” he commented.

You finished getting the thorns off one flower and gave him a nod. “I do. I really do. I’ve been fascinated by them my whole life. Now, I have my own garden full of so many different kinds and I love getting to share them with others.”

“You sell them to people…but has anyone ever bought any for you?” was Hunter’s next question.

You scoffed playfully in response, turning your attention to the thorns on another bloom. “Of course not. Who would buy flowers for the florist?” To you, it was a silly notion, but you thought it was still sweet of him to ask.

There was a brief silence as you worked and you almost wondered if Hunter was still there, but then you heard him ask, “Which one would you recommend? Or rather…which do you like best?”

Hearing that, you put down your clippers and the flower in your hand and looked around for the flower you wanted to mention. Then you came around from inside the stall and motioned to a collection in the front. “I love roses,” you told him. “As much as I love exotic blooms that vary in looks and colors, I'm a bit of a sap for simplicity. I have a few different kinds: Ithorian roses, Jade roses, Tarisian roses….” You trailed off as you came to a group of roses that were so deep red in color that they were almost violet or black. “These are my favorite roses, though. The Malreaux rose,” you said with a wistful smile, your fingertips lightly touching the petals. 

Hunter stepped closer to you to get a better look at the roses. “What can you tell me about them?” 

The combination of him being closer to you than he was a second ago as well as him genuinely wanting to know more about the flowers made your heart skip a beat. “Well...they don't have the greatest history,” you said. “They were developed on the planet, Vjun, by the Malreaux family, who were the richest family on the planet. However…there was a lot of Sith activity there and some very dark things happened, especially involving the Malreaux's, but I won't go too much into that. I just love their color. The rich, deep red is gorgeous.”

“I agree. I think I'll take one of those,” Hunter stated. “How much?”

You told him the amount of credits needed and he pulled them out of his pouch again, placing them on the counter of your stall. After that, he bent over and withdrew one of the deep red roses from the bin, examining it for a moment as he turned it a couple times in his hand. 

A pleased grin crossed his face as he gave a one word remark: “Perfect.” Then Hunter's eyes found yours before he did something that took you by surprise:

He held out the rose to you. 

Dumbfounded, you stood there, looking back between him and the rose, stuttering as you tried to respond. What was he doing? You didn't know what to say. 

Then he smiled kindly and said to you, “You said no one buys flowers for the florist…so then I will.”

You gingerly took the rose from him. “Hunter…I'm speechless. You didn't have to do that.”

“I know. I wanted to,” he replied. 

Flashing you a coy smile, he turned away and left you alone at your flower stall. Your eyes drifted down to the bloom now in your hands. You had held many a flower before, but knowing this one belonged to you and was meant for you as a gesture of kindness felt different and special. Knowing this, you couldn't help but smile.

A couple days passed before you saw him again. He returned to your stall a second time with Omega again and also with his other brothers, Crosshair and Wrecker. He caught your gaze just as you were finishing up with another customer and you felt your breath catch at seeing him. Though, Omega calling your name brought you back to reality.

“Good morning!” she cried out, running over to you. 

“Morning, Omega,” you greeted her. “How are those Queen's Hearts looking at your new house?” 

Excitedly, she informed you, “They look great, just like I knew they would! Though, I think we're going to need more.”

“How many more do you need? I've got a few more available,” you said back.

“Could we maybe get three?” she inquired, holding up three fingers. 

You let out a small chuckle. “Is that why you brought all three of your brothers with you: so they'd all have something to do?”

“Very funny,” Crosshair sarcastically commented with a smirk while Wrecker laughed in amusement. That even got a snicker out of Hunter, too.

With that, Hunter offered you the credits needed for the three vases of Queen's Heart flowers and set them on the counter. You expected to see the three Clone boys grab them, but instead, it was Crosshair, Wrecker and Omega who picked them up. 

“We'll leave you to your other business, Hunter,” said Crosshair.

“Don't take too long,” Wrecker added. “I'm cooking tonight and you know I like to eat right away.”

Hunter rolled his eyes slightly. “Yeah, I know. I'll be on time.”

Both Wrecker and Crosshair and even Omega gave him knowing and what seemed like teasing glances before thanking you and leaving just you and Hunter there. 

“What other business do you have to do?” you asked curiously. 

He turned back to you. “I had my own things I wanted to discuss with you.”

“Me?” 

“I wanted to hear more about your travels through the galaxy and the different flowers you've collected. Whenever you're free to, that is.”

You blinked in surprise. Hunter was actually wanting to spend time with you? Surely, you had to be dreaming…yet you knew you weren’t. Even though you wouldn’t normally close your stall for a while, you knew you couldn’t pass up this opportunity. 

“I’m free now,” you said back. 

You could tell he wasn’t expecting you to make that reply. More than likely, he thought you would say you would be available later. “Are you sure? Don’t you need to run your stall for longer?”

With a snicker, you explained, “That’s one of the perks to running your own business: you can pick and choose your hours.” You pulled out from under the counter a wooden sign that said “Gone on break! Be back soon!” and put it up where people could see it. When you looked back at Hunter, you asked him, “Would you like to take a walk while we talk?” 

“I’d like that,” he said with a grin. As the two of you started walking, he asked his next question: “What is the wildest place you’ve traveled to collect a certain flower?”

You chuckled. “Oh, now that’s quite a story.”

“One, I’d be delighted to hear.”

During your walk, you both got lost in telling each other stories about both your adventures in the galaxy. You regaled him with some fun tales of learning about plant lore on other planets and he told you some of his times during the Clone Wars. You talked as though you had been friends for a long time. With him, you felt comfortable and almost free; like you could be yourself and share anything with him without fear of judgment. There were times you’d see him smiling at you as you talked and it only made you smile more. You felt as though you could’ve talked to him forever.

An hour and a half had passed before you both returned to your flower shop. However, you were just about to thank him for the walk when his commlink started to chirp. Then you heard Wrecker’s chiding voice come through, saying, “Hunter…you’re late.”

Hunter groaned in realization. “I’m on my way,” he responded before putting it away. 

“I guess I kept you too long, didn’t I?” you questioned guiltily.

“It wasn’t you,” he said. “I didn’t keep track of the time. I was enjoying my time with you.” Then he still smiled at you as if nothing was wrong. 

“I enjoyed it, too,” you replied, smiling back.

Then he perked up and declared, “Oh, I almost forgot.” He walked a couple steps over to the bins of Malreaux roses, pulled another one out and proceeded to hand it over to you just like he did the first time. 

“Hunter…,” you said, once again in disbelief at his gesture.

After you took it, he declared as he turned to walk away, “You’ll find the amount of credits needed for the rose included with my payment for the Queen’s Hearts. I hope to see you again soon, (Y/N).”

Once again, he left you alone at your stall with nothing but a red rose in your hands and a smile on your face.

A few days later, you arrived at your little shop early in the morning to get things ready for the day and were pleasantly surprised to see a third singular Malreaux rose on the counter with some credits next to it.

Hunter had come by before you to leave you your favorite flower once again. 

Two times before had been one thing, but now it had happened a third time…which made you begin to wonder. Your thoughts drifted to your knowledge of the flower language, specifically to the meanings behind roses.

Roses of the red variety like the Malreaux rose were usually given as symbols of love, affection and desire.

Did Hunter realize this?

You had said that the Malreaux rose was your favorite flower, after all. Maybe he was just simply continuing to get that one because of that, but there was still something in you that thought maybe it was best if he didn’t. There were other people on the island that knew of the language of flowers, either from you or they already had prior knowledge of it, and if they saw Hunter giving you these flowers that were meant as a sign of affection and that wasn’t his true intention, then rumors could potentially spark from that. You didn’t want to put him in an awkward situation, especially since it was clear sometimes that he wasn’t entirely familiar with how to be a part of a society like here on Pabu, having been a soldier most of his life. More than likely, he was unfamiliar with these kinds of things and was just trying to be friendly.

Though…it would be amazing if he was expressing interest in you…but that was a long shot in your eyes.

Even still…that didn’t stop you from keeping the three roses you’d received from him in their own special little vase at home, one you kept by the front door so you could place the roses inside as you walked in. 

The next time you saw Hunter or were able to get him alone, you would talk to him about it and set the record straight.

As luck would have it, you saw him the next day as you were closing up. It had been a busy day for you, having had to make a few flower crowns for a group of girls. The mayor’s daughter, Lyana, had wanted a party with her friends and you had offered to make all of them flower crowns, Omega included. For you, they were easy to make and took no time at all. Lyana and Omega came to your shop, both of them still wearing their colorful blooms in their hair. Hunter followed not far behind them.

“Thank you so much for the crowns!” Lyana exclaimed happily. “They turned out great!”

“We’ve all gotten a lot of compliments on them today,” added Omega.

You giggled at their excitement. “I’m glad you love them. They look perfect on both of you.”

With a devious smirk, Omega commented to you, “You should make one for Hunter.”

Lyana laughed and Hunter gave Omega a teasing grin as well as a look that said, “Don’t even think about it.”

After chuckling yourself, you responded, “As hilarious as that would be, I’m inclined to think Hunter doesn’t want one.”

“Well, Wrecker definitely does. Will you make one for him then?” asked Omega.

“I can bring one by tomorrow,” you replied, amused at the image of Wrecker wearing a flower crown and already planning out what would look great on him. “Right now, I’m heading home for the evening.”

“Okay. Have a good night,” said Omega as she and Lyana waved you goodbye and ran off in the opposite direction.

Yet again, there was now just you and Hunter.

You pulled your shawl up over your shoulders and you heard Hunter ask you, “May I walk you home?”

Him being so charming certainly wasn’t making things easier for you. You were so crazy about him and you had loved the time you’d already gotten to spend with him before, even if it hadn’t been much. You knew you had to talk to him about the roses, but you didn’t want to yet. 

“You may,” you accepted, thinking that you could have your conversation later.

He grinned at you before gesturing out with his hand and saying, “Lead the way.”

You started to walk away and noticed at first that Hunter wasn’t next to you, but then he suddenly appeared beside you like it took him a second to catch up. Waving that off as just nothing, you were content to just walk with him back to your house.

“The crowns you made were impressive. All the girls loved them,” he told you.

“Thank you,” you said. “I’ve gotten pretty good at making those and I thought it would make their party more fun. I’m happy they enjoyed them.”

“Are there other things you like to do or make with your flowers?” he asked.

You answered, “I like making bouquets or flower arrangements for things like festivals or parties. The usual things like that.”

“Are they hard to make?” 

“Mmm…they were at first, but the more I practiced, the easier they got.”

“I’m glad. I would love to see what you’ve made sometime, if you have any.”

You smiled and blushed at the attention he was giving you. Like always, you convinced yourself he was just being friendly, even though it meant a lot more to you than he knew. “Sure. I’d be happy to show you,” you said back. 

A few minutes passed and you saw your house coming into view. Even though it was a short walk, it still made you sad that your time with Hunter was about to end for the night. You had the thought of maybe inviting him inside for some tea just so you two could continue talking and spending time together, but you figured that might seem too forward. You just didn’t want to say good night yet.

The two of you reached the end of the pathway leading up to your house and you couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that you needed to talk to him now about the roses. Hopefully, this wouldn’t make things too awkward, especially after a nice walk home with him, but it needed to be done.

You turned to face him and you asked him, “Hunter…why have you been giving me all those roses?”

His head tilted, confused. “It’s like I said the first time: you said no one buys flowers for you and I thought you deserved to feel special, so I figured giving you your favorite flower would be nice.”

“Yes, but…do you know the symbolism behind giving someone a red rose?” Your hands fidgeted nervously as you prepared to explain it to him. “Red roses are usually symbols of romantic interest, attraction and affection.”

He looked at you plainly for a moment before he sighed quietly and a content smile crossed his face. “Finally caught on, have you?”

Your head reared back slightly, taken aback. “Wait…you did know?” you asked in disbelief.

His smile only widened as he reached into one of his pockets and withdrew a folded piece of paper that you recognized and held it up for you to see.

“You…you took one of my flower pamphlets?” 

Nodding in affirmation, he explained, “The first time, I simply wanted to give you your favorite flower. Then I took one of the pamphlets when you weren’t looking because I was genuinely curious. It was just a happy coincidence that the kind of flower I wanted to give you to…express my interest and affection happened to be that same flower you liked.” He put the pamphlet back in his pocket, stole a look at your still shocked face and then turned away shyly. “I’m still new to things like this and I wasn’t sure what to say or how to say it, having been used to the language of war for so long…so I thought maybe saying it in a language you understood best would eventually get my point across.” His eyes returned to you, awaiting your response.

Your hand came up to your chest, feeling your rapidly increasing heartbeat beneath your palm. Surely, this couldn’t be happening. “You’ve been romantically interested in me…all this time?”

Hunter smiled ever so sweetly and bowed his head again.

A happy gasp escaped you and your hand pressed even harder over your heart. This was not at all how you thought this conversation was going to go, but you were not complaining at all. This was even better than what you expected. “Hunter, I…I feel the same,” you replied, your lips curving up into a joyful smile. 

That made his own smile widen even more, his expression softened and his eyes lit up in a way that you hadn’t seen before. He took a step closer to you and asked you, “There’s something else I wanted to give you each time I gave you a rose, but was afraid to. May I give it to you now?”

A bit puzzled but no less intrigued, you simply nodded your head.

You were slightly startled when you felt his warm hand take yours. He proceeded to lift it up and your breath hitched when he pressed the back of your hand to his lips, his gaze locked on you the whole time.

“For the first rose,” he said as he lowered your hand, but keeping it in his grasp.

After that, he leaned his head down and placed a soft kiss on your cheek, sending a small shock through your skin.

“For the second,” he said.

His free hand came up to cup your jaw and you couldn’t help but lean into his touch, overwhelmed with joy at what was happening. He tilted his head up and pressed his lips to your forehead, letting them linger a little longer there than he had on your cheek.

“And the third,” he said as he looked back at you.

Then he reached around behind him and, to your great surprise, he pulled out yet another red Malreaux rose that you somehow never noticed he had tucked under his belt. He must’ve snagged it as you both were leaving your shop, which explained why it had taken him a few seconds to appear beside you. Your smile grew and your cheeks hurt a tiny bit from how much you were smiling, but you didn’t care. This was a kind of light pain that you would gladly grow accustomed to. Though, instead of handing it you, Hunter tenderly tucked it behind your ear, letting his hand caress your cheek as it came down. 

Then, looking intently into your eyes, he spoke in a soft voice, “Then this is for the fourth rose.” 

A second later, his lips descended down onto yours, capturing them in a gentle, sweet and affectionate kiss, one better than anything you ever dreamed of. His hand that still held yours let go and wrapped around your waist as you placed your hands on his firm chest and kissed him back. You felt as though it were just the two of you alone on Pabu, sharing this wonderful moment. The way his arms fit around you and your bodies seemed to fit together like matching puzzle pieces felt more than right; it felt like you were destined to be together.

It felt perfect.

When he reluctantly pulled away, he said to you, his voice a gravelly whisper, “I know we still don’t know each other very well, but I would like for that to change. I want to know you, (Y/N). I want to know everything about you and the things that make you happy. I want to listen to you tell me about every flower you know of, the meaning behind each one and see how your eyes light up when you talk about your passion. I want to make you just as happy and smile just as much…if you’ll have me.”

“I would love nothing more,” you said back almost right away. “I want to know you, too, and I’ve wanted that so much since you first came to Pabu. I hope I can make you as happy as you’ve already made me with the roses alone.” Then you took the initiative this time by taking his face in your hands and bringing him down just a little to kiss him again, feeling him smiling against your lips. After a few seconds, you pulled back and inquired, “Would you like to come in? I don’t want to say good night yet. I can make us some tea and we can spend more of the evening together, just the two of us. I can even show you my flower garden out back, too, if you’d like.”

“I’d like that very much,” he replied. 

You tightly grasped his hand and led him along the path leading to your front door. You pushed it open and brought him inside your warm and inviting home, your other hand lightly tracing the petals of the other three roses Hunter had given you sitting in the vase by your door.

Being a florist had always been your dream and you had achieved that a long time ago. Since then, your new dream had been a relationship with Hunter and that was now coming true. 

You had thought your life was already perfect…but now, with Hunter in your life, it most certainly was.

[caffeinewitchcraft]

Cinderella Doesn’t Believe in Fairytales (pt. 1)

Summary: Cinderella is too old for fairytales. But when one is her only chance at escape, she may have to start believing again. TW: child abuse, child neglect

------------------------------

Once upon a time in a land far away, a girl lived with her stepmother and her two stepsisters. Though they were a family, the girl had to do all the chores so as not to overtire her new family. She rose at dawn everyday--

It starts like this:

Cinderella’s parents teach her to love with open hands. It’s in the way her mother sets aside the watering can the moment her father’s carriage rolls past the gate. It’s in the way her father peels the last bills of their family’s fortunes from his billfold and hands them to the doctor. When Cinderella starts stepping on ants in the garden, upset that they’d made a butterfly their meal, it’s in the way her mother tells her to let them take the wings, the antennae, the body.

It’s in the way Cinderella is given the duty of mopping her mother’s clammy brow, barely eight-years-old and smelling death in the air.

“Everything,” her mother wheezes, “everything will be okay.”

They are strange last words. Cinderella ponders them as her mother’s face pales and each breath comes more and more labored. Did that mean her mother was going to be okay? Did it mean her father would come back from his merchant trip soon? Or was it something bigger than Cinderella could yet understand?

“It doesn’t feel okay,” Cinderella whispers. She feels empty inside. The doctor left even when she begged him to stay. Nothing more to do, your father will understand. She squeezes her mother’s hand with both of hers. “Nothing feels okay.”

“Okay takes time,” her mother says. Her eyes are fever bright but she squints through the collapse of her own body to make eye contact with her daughter. Her colorless lips form a tremulous smile. “Be patient, darling. Be kind and everything will be okay.”

Cindrella has been lying awake for long nights, promising the world too many things. She promised she wouldn’t step on the ants in the garden anymore, not even by accident. She promised she would rake the leaves from around the oak tree without being asked. She promised to only think nice thoughts from now on, even when her father went on trips with no end dates and her mother stared out the window for hours on end. She promised so many things in the hopes that one of those promises contained the magic words that would save her mom.

Cinderella watches the breath rattle out of her mother for the last time. The hand she holds between her own cools. A wind with the bite of winter rolls through the window, making the bedcurtains shiver.

Okay takes time.

Cinderella waits for one of two things to rise. The sun or her mother.

The sun wins.

---------------.

Stepmother and her daughters move in too quickly after that. Cinderella doesn’t remember when her father brought them home. Was it the day he found her in the master bedroom? Or was it weeks later when Cinderella could finally tear herself away from staring out the window?

“This is your new mother,” her father says. He kneels in front of Cinderella and cups her cheek with one broad hand. He scans her with worried eyes. “Okay? We’ll be a family now.”

Cinderella wants to scream. Her fingers tangle in the front of her dress and her toes dig into the ground through her shoes. She keeps thinking of her mother’s hand in hers. And now she has a new one?

“Cinderella,” her father says. He squeezes her shoulder with his other hand. “Okay?”

“Okay,” she says. Her eyes dart to her stepmother standing behind her father. “I-it may take some t-time, but…”

“And we will have time,” Stepmother says. Her voice is the very opposite of her mother’s, high and lilting where her mother’s voice was low and round. She smiles at Cinderella. “Thank you, my dear.”

“We will be a family,” her father says. He stands so he can wrap one arm around Stepmother. He puts his hand on top of Cinderella’s head. “A very loving family.”

------------.

A very loving family.

Things are taken from Cinderella slowly. A pretty ribbon goes to Drizella when Stepmother notices her daughter’s envious stare. Her room is given to her stepsisters’ governess when she’s eleven. A textbook goes to Anastasia when her governess runs out of material to teach.

“Father,” Cinderella says from the door of her father’s study. She’s embarrassed that her ankles are showing from under her dress, the sleeves falling short of her wrists, her golden hair knotted on one side of her head. She’d only learned of her father’s homecoming an hour ago when Anastasia called for him too loudly. “May I speak to you?”

Her father doesn’t look up from the reports in front of him. He mutters as he runs numbers over and over and over again, scratching each calculation out with the quill Cinderella gave him last year. The sight of the quill gives Cinderella comfort.

He loves me still, Cinderella thinks as she waits for his attention. She’s too old to tangle her fingers in her dress now, or so she’s learned from eavesdropping on her stepsisters’ etiquette lessons. So she folds her hands behind her back and holds her spine as straight as she can.

“What is it?” her father asks at last. He pushes away his papers but, rather than focus on Cinderella, pulls a ledger in front of him. “It is late.”

“I’m sorry,” Cinderella says. She is sorry. The sun has been done for hours and here is her poor father working away. She bites her cheek. “I—my room. Stepmother said the governess would need it and I would need to move for the duration of her stay.”

“Yes?”

Cinderella’s heart stings. He knew. She breathes in deeply. “It’s only—well, she’s been here for two months now.”

“And she will be here for many more,” her father says. He turns the page of the ledger and freezes. He frowns as his eyes skim the same line over and over again. “Is there a point, Cinderella? I’m busy.”

“I’ve been told to sleep in the kitchen,” Cinderella blurts out. She can see soot on the hem of her nightgown and she steps back to hide the stain in the shadows. “If I could have some space in the servant’s quarters, maybe…”

“It’s temporary,” her father says. He stands without taking his eyes off the page. Sweating, he dabs at his forehead with a handkerchief her mother embroidered for him and waves her off. “Go to bed, Cinderella. It’s late. We will talk in the morning.”

Be patient, Cinderella thinks. She wraps her arms around herself. The cold stone floors bite at her bare feet. Think kind thoughts. Rake the leaves around the oak tree.

Her father is gone in the morning on another trip.

He does not come home.

-----------------.

When Cinderella thinks positively, her life is like a fairytale. The kitchen hearth is warm and she never lacks for company between the birds that sing in the branches of the oak tree and the mice that snatch up crumbs before the ants can get to them. Her father is a dashingly handsome man on a mission to save their family from total ruin. The last letter he sent (over a year ago) detailed a harrowing trip over the seas to a new land in hopes of trade. He’s an adventurer. He’s a hero.

When her life is like a fairytale, Stepmother is only cruel to protect Cinderella from the Curse. She’s never decided what the “Curse” is, but it feeds on happiness. Stepmother piles chores and chores onto Cinderella so Cinderella is too tired to be happy and the Curse is held at bay.

Her stepsisters don’t make fun of Cinderella’s soot-filled hair or her tattered clothes. No, they tease as all sisters do. They happily eat what Cinderella cooks for them and, though they don’t say it out loud, they are always grateful to Cinderella.

Cinderella is patient. Cinderella is kind. The governess leaves without ever directly giving Cinderella a lesson. Cinderella’s room becomes a closet for her stepsisters and that’s okay. It’s okay because she loves them and she wants them to have room for their belongings.

Stepmother has her move to the attic instead. It’s nicer there than in the kitchen. She has a bed and a dresser and a little window that looks out over the driveway. She thinks it’s a turning point in their loving family and she’s finally been patient enough--

Stepmother starts insisting Cinderella answer to the call of a silver bell at all hours of the night. She thought Cinderella would hear the ringing better from the attic than from the kitchen. Cinderella, come here. Cinderella, move faster. Cinderella—

Cinderella rakes the leaves under the oak tree and stares down the driveway, wishing for her father to come home.

---------------.

Cinderella turns 17. It’s been six years since her father left on his quest and four years since his last letter. The money in the estate is drying up and Cinderella’s chores grow as their finances dwindle.

Cinderella feels the walls caving in a little more each day. Like she alone is sinking further and further underground and the collective weight of the earth around her attic bedroom is the reason the wood creaks a little more each passing storm.

Be kind, her mother told her.

But what is kindness when she is disintegrating in front of the the people who were supposed to love her? Her face is hollowed from understanding smiles. They love you, they just don’t know how to show it. Just be kind a little longer and then everything will be okay. Be patient—

So she ties her hair up in scraps of cloth leftover from mending the tablecloth and she goes out to face another day. The list of chores she must complete stretches until the sun goes down. She presses her hands into abrasive water and scrubs, scrubs, scrubs. She collects the silverware and polishes it (though it does not need to be polished). She sweeps and mops and prunes the roses.

She dusts the great, creaking carcass of a manor her father left behind and wonders for how much longer she is expected to be its beating heart?

Be patient, your reward will come, maintain your kindness and open your soul, carve out what you can spare —

Cinderella is growing too old for fairytales.

-----------------------.

She writes her father one last time on the last full moon of her nineteenth year. Cinderella feels so much older now and so young at the same time. The chill of fall permeates the attic and stiffens her fingers, but her heart is beating very hard.

I’m leaving, she writes. Her quill hovers over the next line. She could end the letter here, but she doesn’t want to. Her father has been absent, he may be dead, but she loves him still. She wants to share her elation with him even as it breaks her heart to leave behind what he built.

I’m leaving. Once my birthday comes, I plan to take a carriage into the city. I have a reference from our old gardener, and I will find work. I can’t stay here anymore, Father, waiting for letters that may never come. Thank you for everything you’ve done.

Cinderella stares at the letters. Thank you. The joy she’d felt earlier is dying under those words.

The truth is, Cinderella doesn’t feel thankful. She feels…raw. Tired. Like leaving is her last ray of hope and, without it, her world is darkness. She’s spent so many years making her life into stories to keep herself from breaking.

Once upon a time, there was a girl who lived under a terrible curse. Luckily her stepmother was clever and determined. Though she did not want to, she made herself be cruel to Cinderella in order to stave off—

Once upon a time, there were three sisters. Though the older two teased the younger, they loved each other very much—

Once upon a time, Cinderella worked hard enough and her new family realized they should have loved her all along—

She is tired of being kind. It hurts. Hurts like sleep in front of the hearth for years, hurts like the chill clawing through her attic room, hurts like remembering her mother’s last breath rattling out of her chest.

Telling her father thank you is kind. If he really is off trying to save their family from ruin, he is owed thanks. But Cinderella can’t give it. She is selfish in the end. Cruel and unkind. That’s why the family who was supposed to love her never could.

Cinderella presses quill back to parchment.

If I must suffer, I would rather it be from my own choices. There is no future for me here any longer. I will carry the memories of Mother in the garden for the rest of my life. I will remember the dinners we had at the dining table. I will think of the oak tree we used to sit under as a family. I hope you return to your new family safely and I hope you do not think of me when you do. I think we parted when Mother died. I must start my new life so this is goodbye.

Goodbye, Father.

She signs her name and seals the envelope before she can falter.

--------------.

A month after she sends her letter, a messenger arrives from the castle.

“A ball,” he says, handing the invitation to her stepmother. He frowns at the cobwebs along the ceiling and eyes the high polish of the ebony banister. “Open to all noble ladies of suitable peerage.”

There’s doubt in his voice when he says the word noble. Cinderella, eavesdropping from behind the closed door of the parlor, silently agrees. It’s been years since she thought of her father’s title of Baron. As part of the landless nobility, it rarely came up and, with her father’s absence, there’s no one to care.

But Stepmother cares. As soon as the messenger leaves, she’s celebrating with her daughters. “We’ll order dresses,” Stepmother says, clapping her hands together. “New dresses that will make my daughters shine brighter than any Duke’s daughter.”

“I want to wear green,” Anastasia says. She sighs dreamily. “They say the Prince’s eyes are green.”

“I want to wear black,” Drizella announces. She presses a hand to her chest. “The Prince and the King both have black hair. It will be to honor them.”

Stepmother does her best to hide her grimace. “Darling, black is…for other occasions. How about you try a nice lilac? Purple is for royalty.”

Drizella grins happily.

Cinderella slips back up to the attic. This speeds up her plans a little bit. The ball is three months away, but that is still a month before her birthday. A ball means the house will be empty. Cinderella will leave the night of the ball and, with any luck, it will be days before Stepmother even thinks to ring her silver bell.

Cinderella has work to do.

------------.

The ball affords Cinderella more opportunities than she thought. Stepmother keeps a strict inventory of the pantry, so Cinderella must collect her rations little by little to avoid detection. When her family goes into town to visit the seamstress, Cinderella leaves behind her chores. She picks her way through the woods behind the manor, eyes scanning the sides of the path. She can dry mushrooms or can berries if she finds them. Foraging is a faster way to fill her rations.

Cinderella likes being alone in the woods. The sun is high overhead and the light that shines through the canopy turns the leaves bright green. Birdsong drifts through the air and there’s a small scuffling from the ferns to her right as some small animal searches for fresh shoots. It feels like the woods are the only place she can be herself without worrying about kindness or unkindness.

She remembers a time when she hated it. One winter, they did not have enough firewood. Stepmother sent 15-year-old Cinderella into the woods in search of twigs and branches. She remembers the fear that still winter night built in her, the surety that she would either freeze to death or be eaten alive.

She’d wandered further and further from the house, desperate to complete her task so she could return to her attic. Her fingers had nearly frozen even tucked into her sleeves. The trees were stripped bare by the weight of the snow and ice. The moon had been barely bright enough to light her way and, looking back, there was no way she would have been able to collect enough firewood to make a difference. She was going to die before she completed her task, or so she thought.

Then she found the clearing.

She steps out of the treeline and into that same clearing now.

The woods are dense behind the manor. They trees that grow here are too hard for most loggers, ancient and gnarled in appearance. When she first stumbled into the wide, circular meadow, she had thought she was imagining things.

Even on that snowy, terrible winter, the clearing was green and warm.

Wildflowers peak out through grass as high as Cinderella’s knee. She wades through it, never fearing sharp stones or unexpected holes. In all the years she’s been coming here, she has never twisted her ankle or torn a hem. The clearing is like stepping into a picture, everything as soft as a brushstroke.

In the center of the wildflowers is an oak tree. From her studies, Cinderella estimates it to be twice as old as the one in the manor’s garden. Perhaps three or four hundred years old. The base is easily as big around as a carriage and the tree stretches a good dozen feet higher than the forest’s canopy.

There won’t be any mushrooms here, or at least not the kind Cinderella can eat. But it’s been so long since she’s had the chance to come here. She heads for the oak tree and sits against its trunk with a sigh, titling her head back against the bark. The warmth coming from the tree eases the tension from her shoulders. She’ll have to be careful lest she fall asleep. She’ll need to be back before Stepmother returns from the seamstress…

“You were gone a long time.”

Cinderella hums and folds her hands over her stomach. The boy’s words are accusatory, but Cinderella knows him well enough now to hear the undercurrent of worry in his words. “I had a big decision to make.”

The boy in the tree never shows himself. He may be the tree for all Cinderella knows. She’s never looked for the source, sensing that her friend may never come back if she asks too many questions. So, like always, she keeps her eyes shut as the boy’s presence grows all around her.

“About what we talked about last time?” he asks.

“Yes,” Cinderella says. She thinks of the letter she sent to a father who probably won’t read it and sighs again. “You’re right. I’m old enough to leave.”

The boy’s presence – his aura – brightens in her mind’s eye. She doesn’t know what he is, but she thinks fairies in fairytales move like this. Moving in short bursts, flashes of light, and sensations of warmth. “You’re coming to the Capital?”

Coming? Cinderella shakes off the odd phrasing. “Not quite.”

The boy is confused. “Then you’re not leaving?”

“I am.” Cinderella stretches out her legs in front of her. “I don’t know anyone in the Capital. Someone who used to work for my father gave me a reference that will be good in the next town over. That’s where I’m going.”

“You can’t!” The boy is in the tree now and it surges with heat as his temper flashes. “You can’t go there!”

“Why not?”

“Because we won’t be able to see each other anymore,” the boy says. The leaves of the tree rattle together. “I can’t get to that town.”

Cinderella sits up straight. “Wait, I could still see you in the Capital? That’s why you want me to go there?”

“Why else would I suggest it?” the boy asks. His voice softens. “You do still want to visit me, right?”

“Of course,” Cinderella says. She opens her eyes. There’s a sheen over the world, like she and the tree are being held separate from everything else by the boy’s presence. She watches rainbows drift through the air. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“We are.” The boy nudges her. “Close your eyes, you know it’s not good to look at magic too long.”

Obediently, Cinderella closes her eyes again. The boy is always saying that, but Cinderella has never felt any ill effects from looking at the rainbows. “I’ll get to the Capital eventually. But I do need to go to that town first.”

“Why?”

“I need to work,” Cinderella says. “If I’m going to the Capital, I definitely need money.”

“I can give you money.”

Cinderella doubts that. She doesn’t see why a fairy would have human money. “I still can’t go right away. My stepmother and sisters will be there for a while.”

“They’re coming—going there?! Why?”

“The Prince is looking for a bride,” Cinderella says. She shrugs. “A messenger came a while ago to invite us. That’s why I could come out today. My family is at the seam—Whoa!”

The wind picks up all at once, a warm and gentle gale that sweeps Cinderella’s hair up into the air. When she peeks, the rainbows are dancing.

“You got invited to the ball?” the boy asks. “How? Why?”

Cinderella furrows her brow. “All nobility is invited, even the children of barons who haven’t been seen for nearly a decade, apparently. Why are you excited? Do you even know what a ball is?”

“Do I—of course I—” The boy falls silent. When he speaks again, he’s using a much calmer voice. “I’m just excited that you could be in the Capital so soon.”

“I’m not going,” Cinderella says. She crosses her arms. “This is my best chance to leave. I’m not giving it up just so I can play servant to my stepsisters when they attend the ball.”

“You were invited too, right?”

“I wouldn’t actually be able to go,” Cinderella says. She can see the way it would play out. They’d bring her along to satisfy the messenger’s invitation and that’s it. “I don’t have a dress and, even if I did, my stepmother would force me to stay at the inn. I’d just be brought along to curl Drizella’s hair and patch Anastasia’s dress when she inevitably tears a hole in it.”

“That’s not fair,” the boy says. She gets the impression he’d be scowling if he had a face. “That’s not what the Prince meant to happen when he invited all noble ladies. He meant all of them had to come to the ball, not just the Capital.”

Cinderella can’t help it. She laughs. “It’s not fair, true. But I’m tired of waiting for the world to be fair. I’m sorry, but I won’t be going to the Capital just yet. I’ll come and find wherever your tree is as soon as I get there. Maybe in a year?”

The boy is silent for a long moment. At last he says, “If I could get you to the ball without your family knowing, would you go?”

Cinderella blinks. “I just said that I need to get a job right away—”

“But if I could,” the boy presses, “would you?”

Sometimes Cinderella forgets how naïve the boy is. He’s always talking like that, as if anything is possible. “But I can’t,” Cinderella says gently. “Even if you could get me to the Capital, I’d need a place to stay.”

“I could—”

“And a dress,” Cinderella interrupts. “And I’m sure I’d need the invitation and Stepmother would never let me have that. Even if I did go, what then? How long would I have to wait until I could leave again? Not to mention if my stepmother ever found out…”

“What if I got you a way to the Capital, a place to stay, a way for your stepmother to never find out, a dress, and a guaranteed way to stay in the Capital?” the boy asks. His aura shivers with intensity. “What if I promised you that I could do all that? You could go to the ball and still escape and you’d be somewhere we could still see each other.”

“That’s a lovely dream,” Cinderella says. She’s irritated now. Of course, that sounds wonderful. Cinderella has never been to a ball and the idea of having everything taken care of for one night sounds divine. But Cinderella is too old for fairytales. “Of course, if it were possible, I would do it! The truth is that it’s not possible—”

“Come back the full moon before the ball,” the boy says. His presence jerks up towards the canopy of the oak tree. “At night. Bring your things as if you were leaving. Alright? Promise me!”

“I don’t—”

“If it doesn’t work, you’re not any worse off. You’ll still be able to leave for the next town and we’ll see each other again in a year. But if it does work—”

“If what works?” Cinderella cries.

“Magic,” the boy says before disappearing completely.

Cinderella blinks rainbows out of her eyes. It’s suddenly too bright in the clearing and her head is spinning. Magic? What magic?

“I’m not going,” Cinderella says out loud. The boy isn’t there to hear her. She glares at the meadow. “This isn’t a fairytale. Magic won’t fix anything.”

Cinderella stands, dusts off her dress, and goes looking for mushrooms.

——-

Thanks for reading!

Part two is already posted on my Patreon (X)! If you’d like to read it a week early, please consider supporting me on there :)

See y’all next week!

[daisydaisybilly]

Wild flowers | s.p

pairing: Sejanus x gn!reader

summary: Sejanus finds you in the meadow

warnings: mainly fluff, small mentions of the games and some light spoilers for the movie and book

word count: 800

a/n: saw the movie a few nights ago and wow, I’m me fashion i did like the book better but the movie was still amazing and I have the old therebefore on repeat . I wrote this for my bestie because she couldn’t find Sejanus fics. This probably could be edited better

MAIN MASTERLIST | REQUEST OPEN

The summer air was sweet, the flowers of the meadow had bloomed overnight, as far as the eye could see. Lily of the valley, young primeroses , deep purple violets, and dozens more you couldn’t name.

Hidden behind a massive tree, its leaves shading you from the harsh sun. This time of year in district 12 was unbearable. Only the rich could afford to keep cool, and you certainly wasn’t that.

Six days out of the week you worked in the local doctor’s. It couldn’t quite be called a hospital but it was one of the only places people could go and get medical care.

You lent back against the tree, weaving your hands through the tall grass and flowers. Bees buzzed but gave no mind to you. The day was turning out well, you had brought some fresh bakers bread and a lump of cheese, and a jug of water. Simple and delicious.

The mockingjays song hit your ears, the tune was familiar but the name escaped you. Humming along, some words came to mind.

Here it's safe, here it's warm

Here the daisies guard you from every harm

Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true

Here is the place where I love you

Deep in the meadow, a song a local brand was known to play, you had only seen them a handful of times but the songs stuck. Like it had for the birds.

The sound of stones falling and fallen twigs snapping pulled you out of a dream and jumping to your feet, frowning in the sunlight you spotted, Sejanus Plinth.

Sejanus had been a peacekeeper once but shortly after he had found his way to the doctors, where he was training to be a medic. He rarely spoke about this life before 12 but from the times he had (and from what the doctors said) he came from a rich family in the capitol.

“You following me, Sejanus?” you asked. Your tone was serious, his whole body went still. Then you laughed. “Come sit with me then, might even share my food with you”.

In his hand he carried a brown paper bag, “then I guess you can have some of mine”. He dropped the bag in your lap, opening the bag you found cookies.

Now this was proof he was rich, the baker sold cookies but only the other merchants could afford them Sejanus went on to explain, his Ma had sent them, blushing the whole time.

The shy blushed look made you laugh, “that’s very sweet of her, she must miss you an awful lot”.

“Just as I miss her” he replied in a sad voice.

“You might see her again, learn enough and you could go back to her” you said, laying a hand over his. His hands were cold, cold hands warm heart you mama used to say.

“I don’t want to go back there” he said.

What you said next came as a surprise to even her, “I can teach you a few things, like what plants heal and where to find them”.

“You’d do that” he asked unsure.

“Of course. We don’t have many doctors here and if you’re planning on staying I’d teach you”. You stood, putting the cookies on your bag. “There’s a lake deeper in the woods, you’ll find all the best stuff there”.

He followed and stood up looking through the trees, maybe he didn’t trust you and thought you were leading him to his death.

“Hey” you touched his hand again, “keep north and you’ll find the lake then it’s south to get back, you can trust me”.

He smiled and suddenly the sun seemed dimmer, he took your hand and squeezed it ,“okay, I trust you”.

The hike took a few hours, but the sight of the lake proved it was worth it. You found a patch of herbs close by one of the old houses, it might have been someone’s garden once.

You showed him peppermint that helped with nausea, liquorice to reduce swelling, lemon balm for sleep and any others you could make without the book of herbs and flowers you had at home.

“Where did you learn all this?” He rubbed a peppermint leaf between his finger and thumb. You pick a lemon Balm inhaling the smell, smiling.

“My mama was an apothecary, always been my dream to follow in her footsteps. What about you? Do you have any dreams?”.

“To help people anyway I can”

It was so easy to talk to him, somewhere in your heart you knew he’d understand. Maybe it was his eyes, brown the colour of chocolate. Sejanus was sweet, too sweet for the world, you thought that if it rained he’d melt away like sugar.

“I have a feeling you’re gonna do wonderful things Sejanus” I smiled and he smiled back.

[cnnmairoll]

OMG could I have the love bites prompt but with Sampo and Dan Heng 🥺🥺🥺🩷

Bites of Affection

Character(s) : Sampo Koski, Dan Heng Genre : Fluff a/n : Here you go Vi!! Hope this is to your liking! ^_^

You couldn't help it; your love language was biting. Not the kind that left marks or caused pain, but the playful nips and nibbles that you showered your beloved Sampo with. It was a habit you had developed over time, one that seemed to bring joy and amusement to your relationship.

Sampo, the silver-tongued salesman with a flair for theatrics, initially reacted to your nibbling with sheer dramatics. The first time you planted a soft bite on his arm, he clutched his chest and staggered back as if you had wounded him.

"Oh, the agony!" he exclaimed, his voice laced with mock pain. "My dearest, do you intend to devour me limb by limb?"

You giggled at his antics, unable to resist the urge to give him another playful nip. "Only if you taste as good as you look."

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well, my love, I suppose I must prepare for the most delicious demise."

From that day forward, it became a delightful routine. Whenever you were together, you couldn't resist stealing a quick bite, and Sampo, always the showman, played along.

One sunny morning, as you both sat in the garden, Sampo was engrossed in his book. You saw the perfect opportunity and gently nipped his shoulder.

Sampo let out an exaggerated gasp, his book falling to the ground. "Oh, the treachery! I've been ambushed in broad daylight!"

You laughed, leaning in to give him another bite. "Consider it a love ambush, my dear."

Sampo captured your lips in a sweet kiss, his fingers tracing patterns on your arm. "I surrender to your love, my mischievous bandit."

As the days went by, Sampo began to anticipate your bites, his eyes twinkling with anticipation. He'd playfully present his arm, offering it up for your affectionate nibbles.

One evening, you shared a quiet moment by the fireplace, cuddled up together. You couldn't resist the temptation and leaned in to nip his cheek.

Sampo grinned, his hand running through your hair. "Ah, my little love bandit strikes again. I should hire you as my personal nibbler."

You chuckled, planting a soft kiss on his cheek to soothe the imaginary wound. "I'd gladly take the job."

But it wasn't just during quiet moments that you indulged in your love language. Even during Sampo's boisterous gatherings and parties, you'd find a moment to sneak in a playful bite.

At one particularly lively soirée, you nipped his wrist while he was in the middle of a story, causing him to momentarily falter. "And then, my friends, the chicken—" he paused, looking at you with a smirk, "decided to take a bite out of the merchant."

The room erupted in laughter, and Sampo took a theatrical bow. "I am but a humble feast for my love's insatiable appetite."

Your playful bites became a symbol of your love, a secret language that only the two of you understood. It was a reminder of the joy and laughter you brought into each other's lives.

As the night grew darker and the party continued, Sampo pulled you close, whispering in your ear, "My love, if you keep biting me like this, I might just become addicted to your love."

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection. "And what a delightful addiction that would be."

You've been traveling with Dan Heng and the rest of the Astral Express crew for some time now. Your relationship with Dan Heng had grown stronger, despite his initial cold and reserved demeanor. But there was something about your love language that continued to baffle him – your penchant for biting.

It all began one evening in the common area of the ship. You were sitting together on a comfortable couch, your fingers tracing patterns on his arm as you engaged in casual conversation. Without warning, you leaned in and playfully nipped at his shoulder. Dan Heng tensed up, his blue eyes widening in surprise.

"Did you just… bite me?" he asked, a hint of confusion in his voice.

You chuckled softly. "Yeah, I did. It's just my way of showing affection."

Dan Heng blinked a few times, clearly trying to process this new information. "Biting as an expression of affection? That's… unusual."

You couldn't help but laugh at his perplexed expression. "I know, it's a bit unconventional. But it's how I feel close to someone. Trust me, it's harmless."

Over the next few weeks, you continued to indulge in your love language. Soft bites on his arm when you cuddled, a playful nibble on his ear during movie nights, and even a gentle nip on his neck when you wanted to show just how much you cared. Dan Heng, ever the stoic one, gradually grew accustomed to your unique way of expressing love.

One evening, as you both watch the stars through the windows of the Astral Express, you lean over and gently nibble his earlobe. Dan Heng doesn't pull away this time; instead, he chuckles softly.

"You know," he began, "I never thought I'd say this, but I've grown quite fond of your biting."

You grinned in response, feeling a warm surge of happiness. "I knew you'd come around eventually, my dear."

Dan Heng wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. "I suppose it's your way of keeping me on my toes," he teased.

"Exactly," you replied, leaning in to steal a sweet kiss from his lips. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."

"You really are something, aren't you?" he murmurs, his voice filled with fondness.

You smile up at him, your heart warmed by his reaction. "Just trying to make you smile," you reply.

Dan Heng leans in and places a soft kiss on your lips. "You do that every day," he says, his eyes locked onto yours.

From that moment on, Dan Heng not only accepted your love language of biting but also started to reciprocate in his own way. He'd surprise you with gentle nips and nibbles, a silent testament to how much you meant to him. In the quiet moments of the Astral Express, your love continued to grow, one bite at a time.

[writingpastmybedtime]

Cinderella AU

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x f!Reader

Summary: The classic Cinderella AU. It's heavily inspired by the Disney live-action remake, but with a few tweaks here and there.

Word Count: 8k, oops..?

Warnings: None, except for extra cute Prince Sebastian.

A/N: It’s my first time writing for Seb at this length & I'm kind of proud of how it turned out. Oh, and I gave Sebastian the nickname 'Bash'. Hope you love it as much as I do!<3

Once upon a time, or however the story begins, there lived a girl named Y/N. She was the most beautiful thing in her parents’ eyes and held the kindest heart. They lived happily in a secluded small mansion. They weren’t the richest per se, but they could keep up with the house and even had a few workers in the kitchen and garden. 

As time went by, the girl discovered a passion for music and playing the piano. Her sweet melodies often graced the halls of the house, and whenever she wasn’t behind the piano, she had her face buried deep in a journal, writing down every last thought that had occurred to her that day.

Alas, the time that had passed had also come bearing sombre news. The little girl’s mother had fallen ill with a disease so rare, there was nothing left to do but wait. Those three months spent waiting were the hardest for the girl, as she was always staying beside her mother’s bed, reading to her, brushing her hair, and playing lovely tunes on the piano to soothe her mother’s mind. 

It wasn’t until one night, that the clock in the writing room, which her mother so deeply loved, stopped working and the house suddenly grew more quiet.

Years passed, and Y/N grew even more beautiful. She was always happy and kind, helping out everyone around the house and being there for her father. Y/N’s father was a merchant, so it was not uncommon that he had many trips abroad and many foreign friends. He had a certain way with him, his friends even called him a man of many words. He always found a way to insert an inspirational quote into whatever conversation was going on. His personal favourite, however, was a quote about courage. 

Courage starts with showing up and letting ourselves be seen.

“Darling, would you accompany me to the garden?” Her father asked her. Of course, she followed him with a smile on her face. He began to tell her of a widowed woman, with two daughters just a few years older than Y/N. He explained that he’d known the woman's late husband, having met him many times on his travels. 

“They need a place to stay and they need a sense of security,” he began shyly, before continuing. “I think I can offer them that, I think we can offer them that.”

Y/N smiled as she took her father's hands in hers. “Father, if it’s something that would make you happy, it would make me even happier.” He smiled at her and pulled her into a hug.

Madam Deveraux was a widowed noblewoman with two daughters, Arabella and Isadora. The Madam herself was mostly reserved and you could never tell what she was thinking just by looking at her. Her gaze always remained strong, even when the death of her dear husband crushed her spirit. As months passed after the tragic death, the demeanour of Madam Deveraux changed. Once just a composed and modest lady, was now hardened at heart, with only one true goal. To see her two daughters succeed and be wed off to rich husbands, no matter the cost.

Arabella, the eldest daughter was certainly pretty on the eyes, however, she had a mouth to her that diminished her beauty to a certain degree. Never afraid to speak her mind and even once in a while throw in a more vulgar term here or there. She was fascinated with all kinds of different adult romance books - that’s where she probably learned those indecent phrases. She also loved to draw, but truth be told, she wasn’t really any good at it.

Isadora, like her sister, was also beautiful in her own way. She certainly wasn’t as crude as her sister, but still had a peculiar sense of self. Her ego was probably the biggest between the three of them. Every reflective surface she saw made her gaze at herself longingly, always fixing her hair or makeup. Always whispering sweet affirmations to herself. She knew she was the prettiest person, whenever she walked into a crowded room. Even if the snobby personality sometimes made her mother’s eyes roll.

After a few weeks, it was time again for Y/N’s father to take his leave. Y/N felt crushed, and a sense of dread filled her heart, making her father promise that he’d return.

Unfortunately, on his travels back from overseas, Y/N’s father fell ill and was never able to return to her. It saddened her deeply, but due to her chores, given to her by her step-mother, she didn’t have time to dwell on her grief. 

Months passed, with her chores growing bigger and bigger. She had given up her bedroom because Arabella and Isadora were too cramped up in their own smaller one. Unfortunately for Y/N, instead of getting the smaller room for herself, she had to stay in a storage room right next to the kitchen. It wasn’t the most tedious place to be, for someone somewhere must’ve had to have even worse living conditions. That thought kept her appreciating her commodities and trying to tidy up the tiny storage room as best as she could.

“Y/N, could you be a dear and help your sisters with their dresses?” Madam Deveraux’s cold voice could be heard from upstairs, as Y/N was just finishing up setting the table in the kitchen. Sighing, but still with a smile on her face, the girl walked upstairs to assist her step-sisters. Arabella was tugging Isadora’s corset, to make it more tight, as Isadora was standing near the mirror letting out gasps of air. 

“A little bit of help, please?” Isadora asked in her saccharine voice, looking at Y/N through her mirror. Y/N nodded and took over from Arabella, pulling and pulling until the corset was perfectly on Isadora’s body. 

“Hmm, I look good, don’t you think so?” Isadora spun around, now in her huge pink sparkling dress, which did not do her beauty any justice. Y/N, however, was not one to judge. She just smiled lightly and nodded. 

“Pfft, as if you had any sense of style,” Isadora went to grab her rings, before putting them on her dainty fingers. Her brown hair was curled in an updo and she had put on a plethora of perfume, that was way too sweet, but ironically, fit her perfectly.

“Hah, you’re right sissy, this wench does not know anything about fashion. I mean look at how she’s dressed right now.” Arabella looked at Y/N from head to toe, her face grimacing. Y/N lowered her head to look at her grey dress. Yes, it wasn’t as fancy as the gowns on her step-sisters, but it had belonged to her mother. The grey dress made her feel some kind of sanity, running around doing chores for the Deverauxs’. Picking invisible lint from the pocket of her skirt, the step-sisters just laughed at how humiliated Y/N looked.

“Yes, you do look absolutely atrocious as of late,” Isadora smirked as Arabella grinned, taking joy in embarrassing Y/N. “You’re just plain ugly,” the eldest sister managed to get out before laughing.

“Here, take this, go buy yourself something prettier,” Isadora scoffed as she handed Y/N three silver pieces. You could not get anything fairly pretty with that kind of sum. Y/N had given up on pretty dresses a while ago, being content with the ones her mother had left her. She shook her head at the silver coins, not accepting the pity donation. 

“Fine have it your way, I was just trying to be nice,” Isadora threw the silver pieces on the floor as Arabella snorted in an unladylike manner. “Now leave, as I remember correctly Mama wanted you to go down to the forest to pick up some flowers for the gathering tonight.”

Y/N nodded to the girls, before hastily leaving the room, blinking back tears. She had grown accustomed to their derogatory comments, but that didn’t mean a part of her always ached at their remarks. Never had she been anything, but good and friendly towards the girls and their mother. She shook her head, as if to shake it clear from the depressing thoughts and picked up a dark-brown wooden basket from the kitchen table.

The walk from the house to the forest was always Y/N’s favourite. As soon as the house with the hectic people inside of it disappeared from her field of view, a certain kind of calmness filled Y/N. It was as if she could finally breathe without restrictions. Even the world around her seemed a little bit more saturated. Birds were flying around, singing their beautiful songs; it was spring after all. Y/N started to hum a melody she used to love to play the most on her piano.

Y/N twirled around and smiled, suddenly feeling joyous and elated. She closed her eyes, still twirling, liking the feel of the afternoon sun on her face. A total bliss. Suddenly, when taking her last twirl, she felt her foot get stuck on a tree root and braced herself for a fall.

However, the fall did not come. 

Instead, strong hands had grasped her waist, holding her a few centimetres off the ground. Y/N finally opened her eyes, the sun making her squint a little before finally her vision was back in focus. She was looking into blue eyes. Into the most gorgeous blue eyes she’d ever seen. Serene, deep blue eyes, that she could get lost in. That she did get lost in.

“Miss, are you alright?” Y/N blinked, before realising the man was still holding her. She stumbled to get out of his grasp, before wiping her dress from invisible dirt. Her cheeks flushed pink, suddenly feeling embarrassed. 

“Yes, I’m fine. Thank you..?” Y/N said, waiting for the person’s name to finish her sentence. To thank him personally. She now had time to look at the man that had so gracefully caught her. He had brown medium-length hair, which seemed abnormally soft and Y/N wished she could tread her fingers through it. The man smiled, no grinned rather, and Y/N was taken aback by how handsome this stranger looked.

“You really don’t know who I am?” The man chuckled and Y/N shook her head quizzically. Was she supposed to know him? She browsed through her brain, wondering who this man could be; maybe she’d met him before. But no, she’d remember him. She could never forget those eyes.

Y/N saw a peculiar look in his gaze before his grin grew even bigger and he introduced himself. “My name’s Bash,” he said, and Y/N furrowed her brows, but smiling nonetheless. 

“That’s a peculiar name,” she spoke, before realising her comment was nowhere near acceptable nor did it come off as friendly. The man, Bash, as she’d learned, let out a genuine laugh at the comment. Y/N felt embarrassed and was about to apologise before he stopped her.

“I like your candour,” he smirked. “It’s actually a nickname. A name that my father calls me whenever I haven’t done anything to upset him.” Y/N smiled, no longer feeling embarrassed, but just a little bit of something else. A strange warm feeling was creeping up in her chest. 

“Well, thank you, Bash, for catching me. And I’m sorry you even had to, I’m not normally so clumsy.”

“It’s no problem, besides, what even is a beautiful girl like you doing out in these woods anyway?” Bash asked, not being able to take his eyes off Y/N. He’d never seen a girl so beautiful before. And ‘beautiful’ was not even enough to describe her. 

“Oh, I’m just on my way to get flowers for a party later on. Which does remind me, that I should be on my way,” Y/N looked down at her basket, which she hadn’t fortunately dropped, when she had stumbled. Realisation hit her then, that he’d called her beautiful, but she couldn’t believe it. Perhaps she’d heard wrong?

“Do you work nearby?” Bash asked, his eyes still admiring her own. He did not want to leave her this soon after just meeting. But her duty called and truth be told, so did his. He wasn’t even supposed to be out here. He was out riding with his horse when suddenly he heard the most beautiful voice humming somewhere nearby. Having left his horse a few metres behind, was when he finally saw her. She was twirling and twirling and completely not noticing the tree root that was about to make her fall on the next twirl. Thankfully, he was fast and had caught her on time. 

“Yes, I do. Are you from around here as well?” Y/N asked politely. Knowing that she should be going now, but his eyes were just too mesmerising, to not look away from, that she stayed grounded.

“I actually work at the castle,” he said, his eyes turning pink as if he was embarrassed about the notion. Y/N smiled at that. “Must be nice,” she thought out loud, as Bash just shook his head at her comment.

“Depending on the day, it can be a little bit too much sometimes.” Y/N nodded at that, trying to understand what it must be like working amidst hundreds of people. Working for royalty.

“Well, it’s like my father always taught me,” she began as she gave him the sweetest smile. “Courage starts with showing up and letting ourselves be seen.” Bash raised his eyebrow at that. “And do you feel like that?” 

“Huh?”

“Do you feel seen?” He inquired, and Y/N shrugged. The question was raw - she hadn’t expected that. Did she feel seen? No, not as of late. But she couldn’t tell him that, now could she? She noticed the sun had turned just a tiny bit more golden and felt fear rush through her. She was supposed to be making supper for the Deverauxs and their guests.

“Look, it’s been wonderful having this chat with you, but I really must take my leave,” she nodded to him, taking her basket and turning around, completely forgetting about the flowers. 

Bash felt a tinge of sadness in him, before nodding and giving her a final smile. “Well, it was wonderful making your acquaintance. I hope to see you again someday.” Y/N turned around at his voice. She nodded, grinning at him.

“So do I.”

“Soon,” Bash said and saw Y/N blush, before finally taking her leave. 

She found some wild poppies just behind the house and hoped they’d do. Fortunately, Madam Deveraux only gave her a quizzical look, before dismissing her. She took a breath, thanking the gods that her step-mother did not freak out over the flower arrangement. All evening as she was making supper for everyone, her thoughts went back to the kind stranger she’d met. 

Bash.

Y/N was browsing through the city fair, currently looking at new books she wished she could buy when suddenly a horn was heard above in the upper city. She glanced up from the booth towards the sound, seeing everyone gathering around.

“Hear ye, hear ye,” a man in a formal outfit began. Behind him stood many other men, dressed the same.

These were men from the castle, she concluded. Her thoughts went to Bash for a second, before focusing back on the man giving out the information.

“As requested by His Royal Highness, Prince Sebastian, there is to be a ball, for two weeks hence, in honour of him choosing a bride. As per his wishes, the ball is open to everyone in the country.”

Squeals and cheers were coming from every corner of the city at the news. Y/N suddenly felt very happy. Maybe this was her chance to see Bash again in the castle, after all, he did say he worked there.

Having made her way back home, she rushed to Madam Deveraux, who was sitting in the living room with Arabella and Isadora. The latter was playing the piano. Correction, trying to play, for Y/N, did not know it was possible to make that kind of noise on the delicate instrument.

“What has gotten you in a rush? Your dress is all dirty again,” Arabella scrunched her face, clearly disgusted by Y/N’s clothing once again.

“I was just in the city when they announced there is to be a ball in two weeks as the Prince is to finally choose a bride. It’s open to everyone.” She smiled as she saw Madam Deveraux jump up from the couch, her daughters following her. Suddenly they screamed and the two girls jumped around.

“I’m going to be the new princess,” Isadora squealed before Arabella nudged her on the shoulder.

“No, I am!” Arabella insisted before Madam Deveraux made them quiet down.

“Y/N, you have to go into town and get three beautiful dresses,” Madam Deveraux smiled at her, a new prosperous future in mind for her daughters. She knew they had to look their best to catch the eye of the Prince.

“Yes, yes I will. Thank you for letting me come with you.” Y/N said as she was about to leave back to the city, her mind joyous and excited. Madam Deveraux had finally accepted her as part of the family and she got to go to the ball as well.

“Come with us?” Madam Deveraux scoffed and raised her eyebrow. “Why in the seven hells do you think you’re coming with us?”

Y/N started to say something before she was rudely cut off.

“Nuh, uh-uh.” Madam Deveraux pointed her finger at Y/N. “You do not belong at events like these. You will not go, I forbid you.” 

Y/N felt tears in her eyes, not understanding why she was being so mean to her. 

“Oh, Mama, look. You’ve made the duckling cry.” Arabella snickered and Isadora laughed.

“But why? All I’ve ever done is be nice to you. I do all these chores, you ask of me, and more.” Y/N started shaking but was reluctant to let out real tears. They cannot see me cry, she thought to herself.

“Have you ever considered that you’re maybe just not enough? Not enough pretty, not enough smart,” Madam Deveraux took steps toward Y/N, placing a finger under her jaw, pulling Y/N to look at her. “You’re no one.” Madam Deveraux turned away, before muttering instructions that Y/N was to buy dresses for the three of them the following day.

TWO WEEKS LATER

After helping the Deveraux sisters into their beautiful ball gowns and doing their hair, Y/N watched them leave in a big beige carriage. Letting her shoulders shrug, she finally let out the tears she’d been holding in. Y/N had hoped to visit the ball as well, hoping to see the blue-eyed man who had taken over her thoughts.

Y/N heard footsteps behind her and her name being called, before turning around and seeing Anastasia, an older lady that she’d known all of her life. Anastasia was a neighbour, a lovely woman, who always took care of Y/N whenever it was needed. Anastasia did not like the way Madam Deveraux had started treating Y/N after her father died and even offered to let Y/N move in with her. However, Y/N always passed the opportunity down, saying that she made a promise to her mother and father to look after the house.

“My dear,” Anastasia came closer, taking Y/N’s hand and seeing the tear trails on her face. “Why are you not at the ball? Everyone’s invited.” 

Y/N shook her head, before explaining that Madam Deveraux had forbidden her to attend the event. Anastasia pursed her lips, before muttering, more to herself than to Y/N.

“This will not do,” then louder, “this will not do at all.” She grabbed Y/N’s arm and started pulling her towards her house which was just a few minutes further away. “You will go to the ball, end of story.”

“But how? I have no horse to take me, let alone a carriage. Nor do I have a dress that is suitable for this kind of event.” Y/N saw Anastasia grin, before ushering her faster towards her house.

“Have courage, dear one. I will make sure you get everything.”

And just as Anastasia said, Y/N had it all. Anastasia was a well-endowed lady, who did not have the joy of getting to raise a daughter of her own. No, she was instead blessed with three sons. So it was mere luck, and perhaps a little bit of something else, that Anastasia had a beautiful periwinkle blue dress in her closet waiting to be worn. It fit Y/N perfectly as if it was made only for her to wear.

Anastasia did Y/N’s hair next, whilst explaining that she’d already talked with her personal chauffeur, who was to take Y/N to the ball. 

“I cannot begin to thank you enough, Lady Anastasia,” Y/N had tears in her eyes, although this time they were there for another reason. Gratitude.

“Oh, stop it, dear. I’ve told you a thousand times to not call me that, it makes me feel old,” she grimaced, before helping Y/N into the carriage. As Y/N took a step, Anastasia saw her shoes, which looked worn out and definitely didn't go along with the dress. She muttered something under her breath, before looking at Y/N again.

“There’s something in a box inside the carriage. Make use of them. And make sure to dance.” Y/N furrowed her brows, trying to understand, before she took her seat and felt the carriage take off slowly. “But wait, what about Madam Deveraux and the step-sisters? Won’t they recognize me?” Y/N asked worriedly, looking back at the kind woman.

“Oh, don’t worry about something so trivial, my dear, it’s already been taken care of,” Anastasia winked, before remembering, “and before I forget, try to return at midnight. I cannot explain why, but it’s imperative that you do so. You have to be back when the clock strikes twelve.” With a smile, Anastasia stayed behind, waving at Y/N. 

Y/N was a bit confused, even more so when she opened the box that was on the seat in front of her. Beautiful shoes, made out of iridescent glass, were inside the box. She gasped when she took one in her hand, not even feeling the weight of it, expecting it to be heavier. She slipped off her slippers, before trying on the glass shoes. 

They fit perfectly. As if these shoes, just like the dress, were made just for her. Maybe Anastasia was a witch? No, that sounds too evil. Maybe she was her Fairy Godmother. Y/N chuckled at the silly idea of magic but still felt curious about the predicament she was in.

Y/N didn’t have enough time to dwell on the whereabouts of her dress and shoes before she saw the castle in front of her. Only a few minutes separated her from the majestic building.

“Courage starts with showing up and letting ourselves be seen,” she whispered to herself, looking longingly at the castle ahead.

The castle itself was beautiful. Y/N had never seen a building so marvellous in her life. Taking slow steps through the garden in front of the castle, she was in awe. Twirling around and trying to take it all in. The castle inside was just about the same. Mesmerising to the point of Y/N being left speechless. She imagined what it’d be like to live here. So in contrast to her current living conditions.

Before she knew it, she was standing behind a huge door, with two guards standing on each side of it. This must be the ballroom, she figured. She gave a nod and a curtsy to the guards before they nodded in return and opened the doors.

She heard the buzz of the voices first, before walking towards the balcony that was connected to the ground floor of the ballroom. About a hundred and fifty other people were mingling downstairs, not counting the guards and other workers. 

She began to make her descent down the marvellous staircase, walking slowly, as if not to ruin the dress and not to stumble on her feet. She felt anxious, before reminding herself of her father's wise words again.

It was then that Bash saw her, from across the room. He’d been waiting for her for hours now. Hoping that she’d grace the castle with her beauty. And what a beauty she was, indeed. He was left bewildered when he saw her. She looked otherworldly.

She looked ethereal.

As if they were magnets, he felt an invisible string pull him towards her. He apologised to the princess currently in front of him and nodded to his father, before taking his leave and stepping onto the dance floor. 

Y/N had just reached the last step when she noticed the crowd parting and giving her way. At the end of the tunnel of people, she saw him.

It was him, it was truly him.

Bash.

And oh, the way he looked at Y/N. As if she’d hung the stars in the sky. 

He grinned when he was finally near enough to notice the sparkling eyeshadow on her eyelids and the pink tone of her lips. 

“Wow, just wow,” Bash let out, scratching the back of his head. A habit of his, whenever he was nervous. “I’m speechless, really.” Bash said, before taking Y/N’s hand and placing a delicate kiss on her knuckles. 

“You look breathtaking,” he said, looking up. Y/N blushed heavily, still not having noticed the ballroom growing quiet. All she saw was him. He was wearing a dark blue suit, with small gold intricate details, that made him look regal. It was then, Y/N realised, he was probably not just a mere worker in a castle.

“Would you allow me this dance?” He said as he stood up straight again. Y/N nodded, not trusting her words at the moment. He took her hand gently on his, placing his other on her waist. The pull between them only grew, the magnetic feel forcing them to be as close as possible.

And then they danced. He was a wonderful leader, and fortunately for Y/N, she was not so bad herself on a dancefloor, having taken dance lessons in her youth. The pair only had eyes for each other, completely ignoring the looks they were getting all over the ballroom. Some were jealous, some were elated, and some were more than angry with the outcome happening right now.

Y/N grinned as Bash twirled her not once, but twice, and then made her fall into his arms. The song ended and they were both out of breath. Y/N felt Bash put a strand of hair behind her ear, looking longingly into her eyes. He leaned in, before closing his eyes and stopping himself.

“Come with me, I want to show you something,” Y/N nodded as he led her away from the dancefloor to the confines of a secluded room filled with high bookshelves. There were rows and rows of books. Y/N twirled around, taking it all in. She’d never seen bookshelves this high before.

They were in a library. 

Sebastian noticed how Y/N smiled in awe as she took it all in. He just had a feeling she would like it.

“You didn’t tell me you were a prince, Prince Sebastian,” Y/N said when she turned around from admiring the thousands of books gracing the shelves. Bash chuckled.

“I told you I worked at the castle. Which is true,” Y/N narrowed her eyes before smiling. 

“I just didn’t specify,” Bash said, a finality in his tone. Y/N then saw him truly as he was, as a future king. 

A kind future king, she acknowledged. 

“True,” she took another longing look at the bookshelves before something else caught her eye on the other side of the room.

There was a black grand piano, waiting to be played. Almost calling her name as she took steps towards it. Bash saw what her eyes had fixed on, a grin growing on his face.

“Do you play?” He asked as Y/N let her fingers slide tenderly across the black-and-white keys. 

“I used to,” Y/N said honestly, still gazing longingly at the beautiful instrument in front of her. “I haven’t in a while, not since my father passed.” Bash looked at her sorrowfully, before whispering his condolences.

Sebastian took a seat in front of the piano, patting the place next to him. Y/N blushed before she obliged. 

She watched Sebastian place his hands on the piano, pressing a few keys, which made the sweetest tune. She closed her eyes and hummed to herself when she heard him continue. Suddenly the sound stopped and she opened her eyes to come face to face with Bash.

“Your turn,” he whispered, his face was so close to hers, that she could feel his breath on her face. She blushed but shook her head.

“I shouldn’t.”

“You should.”

“I shouldn’t.”

“You should.”

“I shouldn’t, really.”

“You should, really.”

“I will.” She said finally, seeing Sebastian grin before she placed her trembling hands on the keys.

She took a breath before letting her hands take over, the notes she played were familiar to her, never forgotten. Even if she hadn’t played them in so long. She let herself be carried by the tune, until at some point, there was a dialogue.

Sebastian had accompanied her on the piano, he was playing on his side, giving supporting yet beautiful notes to the ones she played. Y/N was enthralled and totally mesmerised by the music. 

So was he. Before today, Sebastian was sure Y/N could not surprise him anymore. She was already perfect enough. But here she was, letting out a precious and delicate part of herself that not many could see. She trusted him. And he appreciated it more than Y/N could ever imagine.

Later on in their life, Bash would tell Y/N that this was the moment he fell in love with her.

As with all good things in life, the song came to an end, and Y/N removed her hands from the keyboard to her lap. Fidgeting with her fingers, as if suddenly ashamed of letting someone see her so bare.

Sebastian placed two fingers underneath her jaw, making Y/N look at him. Her eyes were so vulnerable, that he wanted to fix everything in her life. Not knowing anything about her, but vowing to himself that he’d do anything and everything in his power to make sure she was happy at all times.

Their faces were close again, just one small nudge, and he could feel her lips on his. Y/N saw as Bash’s gaze moved from her eyes to her lips, hers following the action. They were so–so close. Sebastian nudged Y/N’s nose with his own as if asking for permission. Y/N closed her eyes and grinned, him doing the same, and just as their lips were about to meet, Y/N heard the clock strike. 

Her eyes flew wide open and she pulled away. Looking at the clock behind them, she realised she was running out of time.

“I’m so sorry, but I have to go,” Y/N said apologetically, coming to stand. Bash followed immediately, wanting to grasp her arm, but not wanting to overstep.

“You’ve been absolutely wonderful and I’ve had the time of my life, truly.” She started walking away, fast. Sebastian was bewildered, not understanding what went wrong.

“Why are you in a hurry?” He asked, giving her a smile to try to ease the sudden tension in the room.

“It’s hard to explain, I don’t even understand it myself. But I made a promise,” she said, looking over her shoulder at him. Bash was trailing behind her; they still weren’t out of the confines of the library. “I don’t break my promises.”

“Then promise me, we will meet again,” Sebastian told her, as he saw her quicken the pace. She was at the door now. The door that connected to the ballroom. The door that would bring them back to reality. She gave him one last look over her shoulder, grinning at him the way she’d never before when she finally whispered so only he could hear.

“Goodbye, Prince Sebastian.”

She took off and Sebastian followed. He felt his pulse quicken in his chest, for he had been so close to telling her that he’d chosen her as his bride. 

And she’d used his full name. Not the nickname he’d given her.

Bash felt dread creep up on him. This wasn’t supposed to end like this.

And that’s when he realised he didn’t know her name. All this time together, and he had forgotten to ask the simplest of questions. 

She had passed the ballroom now and Sebastian tried his hardest to catch up. With his luck, though, what with being the prince and all, he wasn’t so quick. Girls touched him and pulled him into them, everyone trying to score a chance at a dance with the Prince Sebastian. 

Sebastian muttered countless apologies, before finally getting free of the wandering hands and quickening his pace towards her.

Y/N tried to run as fast as she could. Suddenly she stumbled and one of her glass shoes had fallen off. She looked behind herself and saw Bash following her, even if he was a bit farther behind. She did not have time to go back for the shoe, trying to get the other one off her foot, while still running.

She finally made her way to her carriage, letting it drive away. In her last glance towards the castle, she saw Bash picking up her glass shoe, holding it to his chest, and looking longingly towards the carriage. She blinked and felt moisture on her cheeks. She was devastated by leaving him, but he was a prince. He was the Prince Sebastian and she was just a commoner. A maid, if she could be called even that as of late. However, the feeling was bittersweet, as she’d have memories of this night to remind herself for the years to come.

The way his hands had felt, the way he had looked at her, the way his breath had made goosebumps on her skin when his nose brushed against hers.

The carriage dropped her off at her house, and she hastily made her way into her small room. As she changed into her other dress, the grey one that was her mother's, she noticed that her periwinkle dress was gone. She had just hung it up in her closet, but it was nowhere. She looked again and again, pulling out every other dress in her closet, but nothing.

It was as if it was never even there.

All that remained, which reminded her of the evening spent with the Prince, were her memories and the small glass shoe on the ground in her closet. Reminders, that she hadn’t imagined her time in the castle and that it had been real.

It was quiet until she heard voices coming from the hallway. Annoyed voices.

“I cannot believe, we didn’t get to dance with the Prince,” Isadora said grumpily, sitting down at the dining room table with a disappointed look. “All because of that stupid girl in that pretty dress.”

“At least I touched him,” Arabella closed her eyes, trying to remember the feel of his shoulder beneath her fingers. “He was so firm,” Arabella continued to daydream and took a seat next to her sister. Madam Deveraux was the last to arrive in the room, taking note of Y/N and how bubbly she suddenly looked.

She had a certain spring in her step, when she finally brought the food on the table, for them to eat. Madam Deveraux raised her eyebrow, eyeing Y/N thoroughly, but not saying a word. She thought Y/N would be more devastated at not having had the opportunity to attend the ball.

Something was going on. And she did not like it one bit.

Y/N spent the rest of her evening writing everything down in her diary. She wrote of every minute spent in the castle and her time with the Prince. Mostly, she wrote of the Prince.

It was a month after the ball when Y/N went to her room to check her closet. She had a peculiar feeling in her chest as if something were amiss. Her diary had been exactly where she’d left it, but to her surprise the glass shoe was missing. Y/N looked around her closet, but it was nowhere in sight.

“Are you looking for this?” She heard the cold voice of Madam Deveraux from the doorstep, before looking at her quizzically. “It’s a wonderful little thing, isn’t it.” Madam Deveraux said, looking at the shoe in her hand and then at Y/N. “Do you even know that there’s a countrywide search for whoever wore these shoes to the ball?”

Y/N was surprised, for she did not know the Prince was looking for her. Mostly because she hadn’t even been out of the house these previous weeks. Madam Deveraux had been giving her more chores than she could manage and now she figured out why.

“I won’t even begin to ask where you acquired such a thing, for I simply do not care.” Madam Deveraux hit the glass shoe on the wall next to her, making Y/N gasp and let out a weak ‘no’.

Madam Deveraux smirked, taking pleasure in Y/N’s sorrowful state. “It’s only a matter of time before they knock on our door. And you will not be a part of this household when they ask. It’s only me, Arabella and Isadora.” She grinned darkly, looking at Y/N sitting on the floor, tears in her eyes. 

“Do you understand? Do you now, finally, understand that sometimes a person of your stature is just not enough?” Y/N whimpered as Madam Deveraux closed the door of her room, locking it behind her.

Y/N looked around herself, she had approximately enough food in her room to last her a few days, but she had finally accepted her fate. She would never see Bash again.

It was the afternoon of the next day when Madam Deveraux heard knocking on her door. She placed on her most pleasant smile and opened the door wide, to be met with the new King’s chancellor. 

“Hello, we are here on behalf of His Majesty the King, to try to find his beloved. Are there any ladies in your household, to whom this shoe might belong?” The man in a dark blue suit asked, showing Madam Deveraux the glass shoe she was all familiar with.

Madam Deveraux was thrilled. She had ordered her daughters to lotion their feet daily and to try to squish them into smaller shoes, for she had to be sure that one of them would find their place near the King. 

Arabella was first, as was expected of the eldest daughter. She let out a bunch of profanities while trying on the shoe, pushing and pulling the glass to try to fit into it. “One more time,” she said, her face completely red from the puffing and huffing.

“Oh, give up already,” Isaroda said, whilst nudging her sister, making her fall and catching the shoe in her hand.

As expected, it didn’t fit her either.

Madam Deveraux was absolutely annoyed with her daughters, completely disappointed in their incompetence.

“I am sorry for wasting your time, Madam Deveraux,” the chancellor said, as he was stepping out of the house. Just as he was about to get back on his horse, there was humming to be heard.

The loveliest voice was humming a tune somewhere in the house. Madam Deveraux’s eyes shot up, trying to close the door behind her.

The chancellor raised an eyebrow. “Is there someone else in the house with you?” 

Madam Deveraux smiled smugly, however slightly shaken with the idea of the kingsmen hearing Y/N’s humming. She shook her head.

“No, there is no one, but me and my two daughters.”

“You’re lying,” said a strong voice, as a man jumped off his horse. He removed his hood, and everyone gasped.

It was Prince Sebastian. No, he was King Sebastian now. His father had fallen ill and given Sebastian the throne early.

Madam Deveraux was flabbergasted and immediately curtsied. “M-my prin-King, My King, I had no idea, you’d be here.” 

Sebastian took a few steps forward, still hearing the tune of Y/N’s humming. He knew it was her. It was the same song they’d played on the piano together. 

Sebastian looked at his chancellor, nodding towards the house. “Want to check it out, or should I?”

His chancellor, his best friend, smirked when he saw the glint in Sebastian’s eye. “Go ahead, Your Majesty.” Sebastian grinned before fastening his pace and entering the house. He followed the humming to the small door near the kitchen.

Sebastian saw that the door was locked, so with one, really-really strong pull he tore the lock off the door and exhaled before opening the door.

Y/N had no idea what was going on. She had been trying to calm herself ever since Madam Deveraux had locked her in this room. So when she heard noises coming behind the door, she had expected the worst. 

What she didn’t expect, however, were the kind eyes of Bash.

Sebastian faltered, his steps coming to a stop. There she stood. His beloved. His Queen. He furrowed his brows as he took in her commodities. The way she was dressed. The way her eyes were red-rimmed - an indication that she had been crying. 

She had been locked up.

Everything suddenly made sense to him and he wasted no time in hurrying towards Y/N and pulling her to him. Hugging her so close to him, finally, finally, feeling her in his arms.

“Bash,” She let out weakly and Sebastian just shushed her, placing his head on hers. “It’s okay, you’re safe now.”

Y/N tried to push herself away from him, afraid to get even more hurt. She had felt enough disappointment and grief in her life to experience it again. And grief she would feel if she lost Bash too. So it was easier to push him away before her feelings got too strong. Although, deep down, she knew there was already no turning back. She had fallen for him. Deeply.

But Sebastian wouldn’t budge, he was only grinning more widely when he realised that Y/N, the one he was looking for, was safely in his arms.

“Do you know that I have a countrywide search put out for you?” He asked casually, not even minding that she was trying to break free of his hold. Letting his fingers run through her hair, silently comforting her.

“Bash, have you even realised who I am?” Y/N looked at him through tear-filled eyes. “I'm a nobody. A maid at best. I have no prospects, no dowry. I am not someone you want next to you to rule a kingdom.”

Sebastian laughed at that, pulling the smaller one closer to his chest, letting his head fall on her own again. “That’s where you’re wrong, darling,” He inhaled her scent before placing a kiss on her head.

“You’re strong, you’re honest. Your heart is made of gold. You’re the only person I want to share the throne with.”

She finally looked up into his eyes, to see the most sincere gaze ever directed towards her.

“Well, aren’t you supposed to give me a shoe to try on then? Or have I heard wrong?” She finally retaliated and he chuckled at that.

“Fair enough,” he said before slowly kneeling in front of Y/N.

She looked at him, Prince Sebastian, no, King Sebastian now, on one knee, holding up a glass shoe.

Her glass shoe.

“May I?” Bash cheekily said, before Y/N blushed, and pulled up her skirt just a bit to give Sebastian her leg.

Bash placed her foot in the shoe, and as a surprise to neither of them, it fit her perfectly. His eyes found hers instantly, a strong, confident look in his gaze.

“Can I now, finally, know your name?”

She laughed at that, a tear escaping her eye as she finally began to realise that her old life was coming to an end.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” she said as Sebastian’s eyes glossed over as well.

“Y/N,” Bash tried the name out on his tongue, and he liked how it sounded. He closed his eyes and shook his head, before looking at Y/N again with a new determination in his face.

“Y/N, would you please do me the honour of marrying me and making me the happiest man to ever walk this Earth? I promise to give everything in me to make you happy. To keep you safe. Please, just please, end my misery and come back to the castle with me. As my equal. As my Queen.”

Y/N fell on her knees in front of Bash, her tears falling on her cheeks, although she did not care for them at that moment. All she saw was Sebastian’s face near her as she started to nod and laugh.

“Yes?” Bash looked at Y/N with a hopeful gaze, placing his hands on either side of her face, and pulling her towards him.

Y/N closed her eyes, feeling Bash’s forehead on her own.

“Yes.” 

Time stopped then.

Sebastian pulled Y/N closer to himself and finally connected their lips. Magical was not even the word to begin to describe how it felt like. They were made for each other, of that, were they both certain. Y/N had never experienced anything like this before. His lips were so smooth and soft on her own that she let out a whimper. Bash smiled at that and Y/N followed. 

They both pulled away, grinning at each other.

“I love you,” Bash said, caressing Y/N’s face with his right hand.

“I love you,” Y/N said before Bash connected their lips again.

It was no surprise that the wedding of Y/N and Sebastian happened only a week after their first kiss. Y/N had moved into the castle immediately after Sebastian had caught her locked up in the storage room. Madam Deveraux was put to trial, for treating Y/N the way she had. Arabella and Isadora, although crude in their temper, were pardoned, but made to leave the country, effective immediately. 

As for Y/N and Sebastian?

Well, their story is just at the beginning, filled with sweet kisses and even sweeter memories.

“Do you have any idea how happy you’ve made me?” Bash asked as he held Y/N, his wife now, close to himself.

“Hmm, I can begin to imagine it’s something close to the way I feel,” Y/N chuckled and Sebastian laughed, finally taking a look at her.

Ethereal, he thought. She stood in front of him in their shared bedroom, still in her white gorgeous wedding gown.

Sebastian just shook his head, still in disbelief that his happily ever after was in his arms at last. He pulled Y/N closer and placed his lips on hers. The one of many kisses shared that night.

[ilguna]

22 from prompt list 2 with Finnick please? Reader is taken by the Capitol after the Quarter Quell?

☼ anything for her (Finnick Odair) ☼

warnings; swearing, mentions of sex trafficking and prostitution, death, death mention, bomb mention, torture mention, a noose mention.

wc; 4.3k

notes; 22. "They won't take you away from me ever again."

--

“How did you meet Peeta?” Cressida asks Katniss.

She’s currently sitting on top of a fallen marble pillar, a result of the bombing that took place four days ago. Finnick, as well as many others, stand in the crater together, watching the Mockingjay. She has one hand in her lap, the other rubs the smooth rock while she thinks.

Katniss takes a breath, readying herself, and then breathes it out. “When I met Peeta, I was eleven years old, and I was almost dead.” She starts, before going on to tell the story of the awful day. She tells the camera that she had been trying to sell her younger sister’s baby clothes in the rain because they had been starving. 

By the time the market had closed, the hunting jacket that Katniss was wearing had been soaked through. She’d been shaking so badly that she dropped the clothes entirely, straight into a mud puddle, but instead of retrieving it, she left it there, afraid that if she bent over, she wouldn’t stand up again.

She didn’t want to go home, so she continued to stumble through the muddy streets of District Twelve, until she found herself behind the shops that served the rich. She explains that the merchants lived above their businesses, so she was basically in their backyards. She recalls seeing the garden beds not yet planted, a goat or two in a pen, and one wet dog tied to a post, hunched over.

At that moment, she decided that she’d tried to search the trash bins because they were fair game. She was hoping to find scrap, something that no one else would want except for her family. Unfortunately, all the bins had just been emptied. She still tried, going from shop to shop.

When she had gotten to the baker’s—Peeta’s family’s bakery—she was stuck. The smell of the bread was dizzying, the glow of the oven peeked out from beneath the kitchen door, and the heat held her there just long enough. Then the rain brought her back, she lifted the trash lid, and found nothing.

Peeta’s mother, the baker’s wife, appeared to tell her to move on, threatening to call the Peacekeepers. She told Katniss that she was sick of brats from the Seam pawing through her trash. And despite how ugly the words that came from her were, she had no defense.

She went to leave, but noticed him. Peeta. He was standing behind his mother, and Katniss recognized him from school, knew he was in her grade, yet couldn’t recall his name. He spent his time with the town kids, there was no reason for her to know who he was.

Katniss didn’t go far, only to sit behind the pen that held their pig, leaning against the far side of a strong apple tree. The realization that she would go home empty handed again had finally hit her. With this, she felt sick, sliding down the tree to sit on the roots.

Katniss’s voice is low when she speaks, “‘Let them call the Peacekeepers and take us to the community home,’ I thought, ‘Or better yet, let me die right here in the rain’.” 

She pauses for a second, and then says that she heard a commotion in the bakery, the wife suddenly screaming, the sound of a blow. She thought that it was his mother coming out to drive her away, but it was Peeta. In his arms, he held two large loaves of bread with crusts that were scorched black.

“His mother was yelling, ‘Feed it to the pig, you stupid creature! WHy not? No one decent will buy burned bread!’.”

Peeta began to rip off chunks of the burned bread to toss them into the trough. His mother had been standing over his shoulder until the front bakery bell rang, which called her to the shop to help the customer. 

Katniss says that Peeta never glanced in her direction, but her eyes were on him. They were glued to the red mark that stood out against his skin on his cheekbone. While she began to wonder what she hit him with, he took one glance back at the bakery, returned to looking at the pigs, and then tossed a loaf toward Katniss. The second one quickly followed.

Without a word, Peeta went back inside of the bakery, closing the door behind him.

Katniss was stunned for a long moment, unsure if he’d actually meant to toss them at her feet. When she realized that he must’ve, she shoved them beneath her shirt, pulled the hunting jacket tightly around her body, and walked away before anyone could come forth as a witness. She says that the heat of the bread had burned her skin, but she wasn’t going to let them go.

The loaves had cooled by the time she got home, the insides still being warm. She made her mother and sister sit at the table while she cut off the burnt part. From there, they ate an entire loaf, slice by slice. 

“We had never even spoken. The first time I ever talked to Peeta was on the train to the Games.” Katniss finishes.

“But he was already in love with you.” Cressida says,

“I guess so.” Katniss has a small smile on her face.

"How are you doing with the separation?”

“Not well.” She admits, “I know at any moment Snow could kill him. Especially since he warned Thirteen about the bombing. It’s a terrible thing to live with. But because of what they’re putting him through, I don’t have any reservations anymore. About doing whatever it takes to destroy the Capitol. I’m finally free.” She tilts her head back, looking at the sky. At the same time, a hawk soars above. 

She continues, “President Snow once admitted to me that the Capitol was fragile. At the time, I didn’t know what he meant. It was hard to see clearly because I was so afraid. Now I’m not. The Capitol’s fragile because it depends on the districts for everything. Food, energy, even the Peacekeepers that police us. If we declare our freedom, the Capitol collapses. President Snow, thanks to you, I’m officially declaring mine today.”

Cressida holds up a hand, the recording stops. Katniss gets to her feet, brushing the debris from her butt while the camera crew regroups. When she glances in Finnick’s way, he gives her an encouraging smile.

A few feet away, Plutarch Heavensbee has a crease between his eyebrows, eyes staring at a chunk of the concrete a few feet away, gears turning in his head. While Katniss’s story about how she first encountered Peeta was sweet, it wasn’t captivating enough. At least to him. He needs a story that will keep the Capitol citizens glued to the television screen for every second.

His eyes physically light up, head rising. His eyes land on Finnick first, beckoning him over, and then Haymitch. Finnick starts forward, pulling his hands out of his pockets, but never letting go of the rope that keeps him occupied. He runs his thumb over the worn fibers, eyebrows raising.

“We need more.” Plutarch says as soon as they’re in earshot. His attention is set on Haymitch. “A story with more,” He motions with his hands. Finnick gets what he’s trying to say, he wants grand. Something that will have the Capitol scrambling. “I was wondering if you had anything like that.”

Haymitch’s face screws in. “What are you suggesting?”

“Something that the Capitol hasn’t heard of before. Your Games weren’t rerun the same way the others were. No one knows the full story.” Plutarch is trying to lay it on gently, but it’s fairly obvious what he’s asking for.

Haymitch’s stare becomes hard, eyes narrowing. “I’m not doing that.”

“Not even to save Peeta?”

“No.” 

Now Plutarch looks at Finnick. “I know you have some to tell, or at least one that will work.”

“He doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to do.” Haymitch says.

“This will help to get (Y/n) out of the Capitol.” Plutarch emphasizes. “Not everyone knows what happens to the victors following their win. Only the elite has access to information like that. If it gets out, then this will have the Capitol scrambling to silence us.”

Finnick can feel the blood run from his face and begin to pool at his feet. He knows what Plutarch is asking for. He wants Finnick to open up about what had been happening to him for years. What he was instructed to do as soon as he turned sixteen, and what he carried on doing from then on.

His forced prostitution—the sex trafficking. It’s not something that Finnick talks about openly whenever he wants. In fact, he takes care to hide it as much as possible, to make it a minor factor of his life. As if it’s not as big of a deal as everyone makes it out to be.

Because of it, he purposely adopted the persona that everyone sees. It worked out in his favor, not even Mags knew what was happening to him. It wasn’t until he started to date his sweet girlfriend, you did the mask begin to fall apart. He had to tell you what was happening to him to keep you from thinking that he was cheating on you. 

For four years he had bottled that detail inside of him, and as soon as he spoke it out loud, the glass shattered. He couldn’t reel in the uncontrollable tears that overcame him, as you tried to console him. At the end of the night, he was sure he’d scared you off. But you came around the next morning, never speaking about his darkest secret until he brought it up himself.

It became easier to talk about the more you listened. It didn’t feel like a hot iron was burning inside of his body each time he thought about it anymore. When he was sure that he had passed the first hurdle, he finally told Mags. From then on, he was able to live with it a little easier because he finally had the support he needed.

That doesn’t mean it made it any easier to do. It was like a knife was being held to his throat. President Snow could destroy his life if he wanted to. One toe out of line and his family would be gone.

What Finnick never took into consideration was that he could turn it around to be a weapon of his own. Right now. He can expose Snow the same way he stripped Finnick down to his bare bones. And it would be a way to help his girlfriend, to bring her back to him.

“Okay.” Finnick slowly nods. “I’ve got one.”

Plutarch raises his eyebrows, holding a hand out to the pillar as a way to direct him over. “Good, good.”

Finnick moves to sit in the same spot where Katniss had been moments prior. The camera crew notices this, Cressida watches as Plutarch draws closer, telling them that it’s his turn to speak.

“You don’t have to do this.” Haymitch tells Finnick.

“Yes, I do. If it will help her.” Finnick balls the rope up in his hand. “I’m ready.”

The crew takes a moment to find the right lightning for Finnick, adjusting several times until it’s up to Cressida’s liking. When it’s perfect, she counts down from five, but Finnick doesn’t start speaking until the red light on the camera comes to life.

Regret hits Finnick like a truck.

This is for (Y/n), he reminds himself, this is to bring her home.

“President Snow used to… sell me… my body, that is.” Finnick starts slowly, wanting to get this right. He watches as Cressida stiffens where she stands. “I wasn’t the only one. If a victor is considered desirable, the president gives them as a reward or allows people to buy them for an exorbitant amount of money. If you refuse, he kills someone you love. So you do it.”

He presses his lips together, eyes wandering away. This confession does not feel the same way it did when he told you and Mags. Then, it was shameful. Now, there’s a drive of power behind it. And Finnick’s in control.

“I wasn’t the only one, but I was the most popular.” He looks at the camera. “And perhaps the most defenseless, because the people I loved were so defenseless. To make themselves feel better, my patrons would make presents of money or jewelry, but I found a much more valuable form of payment.

“Secrets.” He hisses the S, “And this is where you’re going to want to stay tuned, President Snow, because so very many of them were about you. But let’s begin with some of the others.”

There’s a ghost of a smile on his face as he goes over his experiences in detail so vividly that it’s impossible to think he made it up on his own. He tells stories of abnormal sexual preferences, betrayals of the heart, endless greed, and power plays that ended in blood.

They were drunk and high secrets that had been murmured in the dead of night. 

Finnick had been bought and sold for eight years, which he will never be able to get back. The innocence was stolen from him, and this is Finnick beginning his revenge. The longer he speaks, the more confident he grows. When he started, he didn’t want to list names, but once one slips, the rest begin to tumble from his mouth, followed by their offense.

Finnick knows he’s heading in the right direction when he watches Cressida’s eyes widen with every important name spoken. He knows how the Capitol works. All it takes is a bad tattoo or the wrong haircut, and a person’s reputation is temporarily tarnished as it’s passed around like a plague. 

What will come of accusations of incest, back-stabbing, blackmail and arson?

What will become of their leader? “And now, on to our good President Coriolanus Snow. Such a young man when he rose to power. Such a clever one to keep it. How, you must ask yourself, did he do it? One word. That’s all you really need to know. Poison.” Finnick emphasizes.

He starts from the beginning, using the pieces he put together throughout the years to paint a picture for those who will be listening. He points out every mysterious death that had happened surrounding Snow. Mainly his adversaries, but sometimes even his allies who appeared as threats in his eyes.

Figures that had died suddenly or slowly. Blamed on bad seafood, silent viruses, or overlooked weakness in the aorta. Snow would drink from a poisoned cup himself to deflect suspicion. Antidotes don’t always work. That’s why there’s a rumor on why the smell of roses is so strong. It’s to cover the metallic scent of blood from blisters in his mouth that will never heal.

They say that Snow has a list and no one knows who will be next.

Even when it’s clear to Finnick that there’s nothing else to tell, he has to be the one to say, “Cut.”

The camera crew hardly murmurs a goodbye before they’re scurrying inside to edit the material to weaponize it. Plutarch places a hand on Finnick’s shoulder, giving him a solemn nod. There were a few surprised reactions that came from Plutarch, himself. Despite the fact that he’d been a Gamemaker for years and might have known half of those facts.

“Thank you.” 

Finnick stands from the marble pillar. “Anything for (Y/n). Anything.”

“In that case, do you have any other stories to tell that might help with propo’s?” Plutarch begins to direct him to the door to go back inside of the bunker.

“I’d have to think about it.” Finnick says.

With their little quest being done, there’s nothing left for him to do besides wait for the volunteers to come back with the prisoners. Finnick spends his time with Katniss, as they move from place to place. They start in Special Defense, tying knots, chatting quietly. They push their lunch around their plates, appetite absent.

Together, they go to bother Beetee in the shooting range, where he’s shown a trident he’s never seen before. He learns how to properly wield a bow, albeit terribly, just to be able to send explosive arrows at the target. 

With how dangerous the mission is, no communication is allowed to or from the rescue team. In the evening, Katniss and Finnick gather back in Special Defense, standing on the far side of the room away from the screens and computer, watching as Beetee and his team go hack through. His usual twitchy demeanor is completely replaced by determination.

He uses as much of Katniss’s interview as he can, but it’s Finnick’s confession that is the main show. Beetee remarks that their counter-attacks are weak, they aren’t trying to silence the rebels as much as he thought they would. Still, for the next hour, they battle back and forth. With the Capitol trying to wall off the interview with the afternoon newscast or blacking out the feed altogether.

The black out fails, as the rebel team takes control of the feed and manages to control it for almost the entire attack on Snow.

“Let it go!” Beetee declares, throwing up his hands. He reaches to wipe the sweat from his face with a nearby cloth. “If they’re not out of there by now, they’re all dead.” He spins around in the chair to face Finnick and Katniss. “It was a good plan, though. Did Plutarch show it to you?”

No, he did not. So Beetee wheels in front of them to take them to another room, where the plan is fleshed out in full. With the victors being held prisoner underground, they had to get creative. They’ve used knockout gas distributed by the ventilation system, a power failure, the detonation of a bomb in a government building several miles away, and now the disruption of the broadcast.

Finnick and Katniss find the entire plan hard to follow, but Finnick gets the gist of it. With so many failures happening at once, that means the Capitol will be strung out and they’ll have to tackle each task one at a time. He’s just hoping that this was enough to give the rebels time to get the victors out of the prison without being shot down.

“It’s good news you found the plan hard to follow.” Beetee adjusts his glasses. “Because then our enemies will, too.”

“Like your electricity trap in the arena?” Katniss asks.

“Exactly. And see how well that worked out?”

There’s nothing else to do but wait, and this becomes glaringly obvious when they’re not let back into Command. They choose to stay in Special Defense, moving to the hummingbird room to wait for an update. 

It’s torture. 

Finnick tries to tie knots, going down the list of the ones he knows in alphabetical order. It’s a lot, yet not quite enough at the same time. He goes down the list five times before the dark thoughts begin to creep in. What if the rescue team failed, and no one’s coming back?

Haymitch comes in briefly to tell them that there’s no news, and then he leaves. About an hour later, dinner is served, but both of them deny having it brought up to them. Katniss begins to bleed from her knots, wiping the maroon liquid on her jumpsuit, continuing to tie her noose.

Finnick can’t go down the list again, otherwise he’ll go crazy. So, he stuffs the rope into his pocket and hunches over on the bench, teeth grit. Katniss begins to hum a tune, holding up her noose in the air to look at it, before dropping it down onto the bench.

“Did you love (Y/n) right away, Finnick?” She asks.

“No.” Finnick murmurs, because it’s the truth. 

When you first won the Hunger Games, you were fifteen years old. By then, he was already seventeen. He’d already had two years of experience regarding Capitol abuse. And all he could see in you was the exact same fate. This is why he took special care to keep a distance between you two.

With you being so young and naive—absolutely no clue that your actions could have consequences—you did what you thought was right. You were sweet, you were kind to everyone you met before and after your Games. You took every compliment with grace and took your time to return with one, even if it wasn’t heartfelt.

That doesn’t mean you weren’t smart, because you are. Enough to the point where you managed to trick the Gamemakers into giving you a higher score than you deserved, getting you sponsors. In the arena, you found out how to maintain the appearance that you knew what you were doing. Despite the fact that it was obvious to every other person from the districts that you were clueless.

And you were pretty. You are pretty, beautiful, gorgeous, every adjective under the sun. If Finnick could see it, the Capitol could see it. He heard your name mentioned almost every time he met with a client, and yet, you were never pulled aside by President Snow.

Finnick would like to say that he wasn’t jealous of you, but he was. Which became loathing, that only grew worse with time. You knew that he didn’t like you, and instead of taking the hint and leaving him alone, you purposely got close. You got to know him, his habits, his feelings. 

He hated it in the beginning, but the truth is that Finnick was lonely and he felt misunderstood by everyone because of the rumors. You never let judgement get in the way, you never let Finnick hurt your feelings. And you respected his boundaries. Whether he liked it or not, you were growing on him.

In the course of a year and a half, he went from considering you a pest to one of his closest friends. He was able to let down his guard. Before he knew it, he had feelings for you. Which he was sure weren’t reciprocated, but you surprised him. Ever since, you’ve been by his side. 

Which is why this doesn’t feel right. 

“She crept up on me.” Finnick tells Katniss.

It must be midnight when Haymitch finally pushes open the door. “They’re back. We’re wanted in the hospital.” Katniss opens her mouth to speak, Haymitch doesn’t give her the opportunity. “That’s all I know.”

She’s back, a voice whispers.

Finnick is frozen where he stands, staring at Haymitch with wide eyes. Katniss takes a step toward the door, but when he doesn’t move with her, she reaches back to grab his hand. Finnick lets her lead him through Special Defense, into the elevator, and on to the hospital wing.

As soon as they step foot through the doors, she lets go. The hospital is in chaos, with orders being shouted back and forth, the wounded volunteers being wheeled across the floor. Immediately, they’re sideswiped by a gurney holding an unconscious woman with a shaved head.

Finnick recognizes her, it’s Johanna. Her skin is blemished with bruises and oozing scabs, a price to pay for being a rebel. For not telling the Capitol what they’d wanted to know about the plan.

Is this how (Y/n) will look? The thought lights an intense fire in his stomach, and even worse, fear begins to creep up. Did they hurt you?

“Gale.” Katniss says, gravitating toward her friend. He’s stripped down to the wait to allow the doctors to work at his shoulder, pulling out shrapnel. There’s sweat dripping down his face. Katniss doesn’t make it further than three steps before she’s shut out entirely.

“Finnick!” A shrill voice calls—your shrill voice calls.

Finnick’s head whips in the direction, feet starting even without a certain direction. He finds you, throwing off a sheet, revealing that your delicate skin has been compromised with cuts. They must not bother you, because you’re on your feet, a wide smile spread across your face, arms out to him.

“(Y/n).” He breathes, picking up speed.

His body slams into yours, arms wrapping around your body to lift you in the air. He can feel your fingertips running through his hair, nails lightly scratching his scalp as you pull him closer. Finnick presses his cheek into your collarbone, feeling your kisses against his temple.

A swarm of butterflies escapes the cage in his chest when he hears your laughter, but they die quickly when he feels you begin to shake with sobs. Finnick lets you back down, allowing your feet to touch the white tile, yet he doesn’t let go. His heart squeezes when you look at him with tear-filled eyes, bottom lip wobbling.

“I’ve got you, honey.” He murmurs, brushing the hair from your face.

You’ve got a tight grip on the front of his jumpsuit. His eyes lock on your discolored knuckles, a sign that you must’ve gotten into a fight while you were being kept prisoner in the Capitol. His face screws.

“I was afraid I wasn’t going to see you again.” You admit with a wavering voice. “It was getting bad, Finnick.”

“I’d never let that happen, babe.” He whispers. “They won’t take you away from me ever again. I won’t let them.”

“I know.” A tear escapes, running down your skin. 

Finnick’s quick to wipe it away.

--

this was part of my 3k celebration!!

[some-messed-up-writing-for-you]

"Floral Affections" - Part 2

GN!Reader x Plant Monster

CW: nothing.

I DID A THING! :D

Finally got around to writing something, and I'm very happy with it! Hope you guys enjoy! <3

Part 1 | Next Part

~~~~

Whispers sounded around you all over the marketplace, the townsfolk giving you wary glances as you went about your business. Ever since you’d taken that job as Lord Sorrel’s gardener things had gotten… weird.

Now, people weren’t avoiding you, surprisingly enough. Quite the opposite! They were bothering the hell out of you. Several times a day, someone would come up to you, feigning curiosity about your day just to “subtly” ask you about the lord.

It was getting rather annoying, but at least most folk weren’t dumb enough to outright ask if your boss was gonna turn you into fertilizer.

…Most.

The town children were very blunt with their questions. They rarely believed your word when you described the lord to them, speaking of his soft tone and kind looks. But even worse than the youngsters were the nosy old ladies.

The women loved gossip—practically lived for it! And they’d always scorn you for “falling for that monster’s charms”. Your hackles always raised at their ill words, and you couldn’t help but remind them how much this little town had improved and grown since Lord Sorrel’s arrival.

No one was pleased with your defensive attitude, but they couldn’t deny the truth either; the town had never been so prosperous.

In the end, you moved on with your day. It would take a while for the townsfolk to warm up to him, and you had better things to do than worry about their opinions. So what if the town was owned by a plantman? He was so kind and generous and… pretty…

Oh-oh.

You shook your head and hurried back home, hoping the fluster on your face wasn’t too noticeable. Were you actually falling for him? You barely knew the man, but… your heart couldn’t help but race in his presence. His beauty had stunned you the first time you met, and the way he held himself... When combined with the gentle looks he sent your way, it had you swooning.

But even if you could admit to yourself that you had feelings for him, how would you even go about courting–

“Oh!” you gasped, surprised to find a small clay pot waiting at your doorstep. It was decorated with a golden pattern of swirls and held a gorgeous little flower. The plant had a long stem surrounded by leaves at the bottom, with its top adorned by petals that jutted out in spiky formations.

The flowers were a deep, purplish-blue. You quickly identified it as a blue salvia and promptly became confused. These did not grow locally, and you haven't heard of any traveling merchants passing through town selling them. This would imply that someone had paid a pretty penny for it to be delivered here…

Your face grew hot once more. With careful hands, you picked up the gift and scurried inside. The pot quickly found a spot on your kitchen table, brightening up the space as you stared at it in wonder.

“Should I… bring him something in return?” the question tumbled from your lips unsurely, your expression twisting in nervous doubt. “But what if it's not from him…?”

And that was when you noticed, hidden behind the leaves, a bit of gold sparkled. You brushed them aside, revealing the answer to your query: Lord Sorrel’s initials written on the inner side of the pot, just barely peeking out above the dirt filling it.

Chewing on your lip, you glanced between the flower and the backdoor of your house, thinking. With a decisive huff, you headed out into your humble garden. Hopefully, you could find something that would match the salvia’s meaning or at least something to reply with.

After all, to a gardener such as yourself, Lord Sorrel’s message was very clear;

“I think of you.”

[6uppermoonsupremacy200]

 ✧    ✦ ☽︎How you met☾ ✦  ⚝ ✧      ✧

                

                                      ❧ ♡    Muzan kibutsuji  ♡ ❧

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-You were a gardener and you were selling flowers and Muzan, who was searching for anything related to the blue spider lily, saw you there and decided to ask you if you knew anything about it.

-Most people don't know about it so you were surprised but also a bit suspicious as you knew the blue spider lily was special .

-You lied and said you didn't know and he said ok actually believing you only a bit tho.

-He soon heard you talking to someone about the blue spider lily.

-He got annoyed when he realized you lied.

-But he decided to come more to manipulate you

-He started coming more often and you guys would chat and do small talk more

-He became more comfortable with you.

-And he actually started to think after getting information about the blue spider lily he would turn you into a demon.

-You didn't tell him even after he asked again

-He soon realized you wouldn't tell him and he tried to kill you

-But he wasn't able to and he was confused.

-He soon started coming more as he felt more calm with you and more happier.

-He was confused but Douma and Daki explained to him when he said that by mistake

-He soon started freaking out and just started being more clingy and nicer

-He then invited you to a festival and explained how he was a demon and confessed  and he even wore his best suit.

                     And now

                                             You decide 

                                                                         Yes or no

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                               ⚔︎ ✧˖ °☽︎Kokushibou☾ ✧˖ ⚔︎

-You are a demon and you were having a hard time with a slayer and they were close to killing you .

-But kokushibou who was walking around going to his mission and saw you decided to help you.

-You were Kinda surprised and were stunned.

-He saw you but he was walking away but you wanted to say thank you .

-He didn't hear your thank you… 

–After a few days you were walking around the fortress when you saw him so you said thank you and you gave him an arm as a thank you .

-He was going to decline or say a rude comment but he felt the need to take it so he did.

-And so when you saw him you would always talk to him.

-And he never pushed you away 

-All the uppermoons would look at you like you were crazy as he never was rude or insulted you.

-He even trained you so you could be strong

-But he soon felt more calm and happier 

-But few characters like him would push their emotions away(A very bad habit)

-But he felt himself being more attracted to you and he puts the points and realizes he loves you

-He then still starts to push down the emotions but you always make him come back .

-He soon decided to try as it was getting annoying

-He soon invites you to a cliff a with a river and a good view

-He confesses as he wanted to end these feelings

-So now you decide yes

                                                  Or

                                                                      no

-

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                                         ☃❄Doma❄☃

-You were a Female merchant and you were traveling for a few days but you were close to finishing your food supply 

-But you were lucky to find the eternal paradise cult .

-You started to trade and talk to the other people there and you became famous.

-Soon doma heard about you from his followers and got interested as there were very few female merchants.

-He visited you one time and to him you were so nice and kind .

-He then visited you more and more and soon you fell in love.

-But that was short cut as you saw him eating a dead body……

-But you asked him if you can have a bite.

-He was very confused and you had to tell him you were a demon.(I took you by surprise, right reader.)

-When you explained him you were a demon he looked at you and just said i love you and you were like “ok wait whatttt”

-Though he did get you flowers and hairpin and then confessed to you again.

-But now do you accept it or not…

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                                      ❄🏀A̶k̶a̶z̶a̶🏀❄

-You owned a bakery and you made very good snacks that even Muzan knew about and he came here often .

-He told the Kizuki and other demons to not harm you as he was a good friend to you.

-Akaza who was strolling around the forest smelled your foods scent and he assumed it was a marechi but when he came he saw it was your food 

-He thought you were asleep so he tried taking the food to test what's so good about it .

-But you were awake and when you saw him you did the only thing you knew to do…

-You threw your shoe at him….

-Yeah he explained why he was here so you gave him a mochi and he loved it .

-He came back almost everyday and started to talk and usually eats  

a few snacks .

-Soon he starts feeling weird and his heart beats faster when you're with him.

-While confused on this Akaza mistakenly says this to Douma and Douma said he was in love with you 

-He then remembers people getting gifts or confessing with some gift.

-So starts buying s̶t̶e̶a̶l̶i̶n̶g̶ for you and giving you hairpins , kimonos and jewelry

-He soon decides to confess to you 

-But while doing so he heard about a firework show and he felt like it was right so he invited you to it .

-While the fireworks were about to come in he confessed.

-He even gave you your favorite flowers .

-So you can now decide yes or no?...

✰BONUS✧

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A string of a biwa was heard as Akaza was teleported into the infinity fortress he bowed as the king of demons Muzan said. 

“Akaza it seems you have been visited by a woman, a baker perhaps .”

Akaza widens his eyes as his thoughts of you getting hurt goes in his mind…Muzan then says ‘Akaza you better treat Y/N right or i would make you have the most worst punishment” Akaza soon nods his head and says “Yes my lord”

-Yeah next night he goes to you and asks how did you know Muzan and you explained you were good friends with him

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                              🧪Gyutaro𓌴

-You were a person who played the koto for people and you were good friends with Daki (You didn't know she was a demon) often playing music for her etc.

-So one day she decided to confess she was a demon and you surprised her by saying that you were calm with it and you still be her friend.

-So when you accepted it she made you meet her brother

-And gyutaro was interested as Daki talked about you and told you were nice and cool.

-When he met you he thought you would be mean and Daki had to assure him you would like him

-He thought you would insult or something but you called him cool and you treated him nicely.

-And the more he hanged around with you the more he felt happier

-He now promises to protect you at all costs except for Daki’s case but she thinks you're her bestie so it's fine.

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                                       ♡💎Daki💎♥

-You worked at the red light district and you met Daki

-She was really mean to you as you were really pretty and she was a bit annoyed.

-But you were so nice and never grew annoyed of her and you were loved by everyone in the district.

-She soon became way nice to you and she became way less mean and more nicer to others but still keeping that tough exterior.

-She even started getting you jewelry or calling you the 2nd most beautiful person other than her.

-But by mistake when you were walking somewhere you saw Daki with her Brother and you were surprised but you accepted it saying it was their way to live

-Daki was extremely surprised.

-One day she pulled you with the obi and was like if you decline i will kill you.

-You accepted but told she could have confessed a bit nicer you told her.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Adventure: Through the Vine

Surrounded by some of the most coveted vineyards on the continent, your party sits in the shaded garden and listens to the old alchemist explaining why she needs your help getting drunk enough to see the face of god.

Every adventurer knows the name Ultani, at least those with coin and taste enough to order bottles of wine when they and their friends hit up a tavern after a delve. What an irony then for one of the Ultani family to ask for THEM at her table, and with a business proposition of all things.

Bent with age but bright of eye, Ivilia Ultani needs their help tracking down the location of an abandoned druid sanctum in the far wilderness and retrieving fruit sacred to the god of vintners and healers left over from a disastrous ritual. Her reasons? Apparently after decades perusing the alchemical mysteries Ivilia got her hands on a bottle blessed by the wine-god himself, and spent four days in a state of drunken revelation pencilling out her magnum opus. The bottle and her inspiration dry just before she finished, so rather than waiting years trying to trial and error the last piece or searching for another bottle she's decided to make some of her own.

Along the way the party will contend with family drama, the cutthroat politics of the wine trade, and the long echoing consequences of stealing from merciful gods. For their troubles they'll not only earn the thanks of a talented alchemist, but also potentially a new home should they hold true to their task.

Setup: Though she is the oldest of her of her merchant clan Ivilia is not the head of the Ultani winery. Her younger brother Valtar had the talent for cultivation and business while she veered towards eccentric scholarship, now Valtar's adult grandchildren run the business and the numerous sprawling vineyards associated with it while she lives in learned obscurity on the original family homestead.

While she occasionally helps out whit a new formulation of fertilizer or pest repellent, Ivilia is rather distant from the rest of the Ultani family who view her as a bit of a kook, who all to often uses her inherited share of the enterprise to buy obscure texts or finance futile experiments.

Challenges & Complications:

Actually finding the sanctum is going to be half the problem. Druidic orders are notoriously protective about the location of their secret clubhouses, and this order was scattered to the wind more than a century ago. Ivilia has tracked down the vague location where she thinks the sanctum might be, but unless the party wants to spend days combing the dangerous wilderness they're going to need to track down a more reliable source. Parsing through local rumours and records gives them three leads, an elf who still provides council to the local Count (goodluck getting an appointment), a vaguely helpful ditty that was recounted to a local bard (since dramatized in endless retelling), and an elder of the order who flew back to his home village in the shape of a falcon. Investigating the latter finds that the elder was apparently so scarred by what he'd seen at the sanctum that he transformed himself into a tree and has spent the intervening decades letting his mind and memory lignify.

The Sanctum itself and the landscape that surrounds it has been scarred by an act of divine wrath that still lingers in the form of dangerous fey and choking vines. Roots have undermined the walls and foundations, making chambers all to easy to collapse. In the centre of this ruin lays the undead corpse of Elmgrace , a once famed elven healer who sought the boon of the god Litirenn only to try and use that gift to reign the god towards his own purposes. Resentful at this deception Litirenn unleashed havoc on the sanctum, cursing Elmgrace never to die, never to rot, and never to rejoin the cycle of nature. Forever vinebound to the same altar he intended for the deity, Elmgrace's few last fanatical followers still tend to his broken body, attempting to brew up more potent poisons that will finally "free" their teacher from his torment.

Unfortunately, the fruit the party needs to pluck grows only from the plants impaling Elmgrace's body, which his followers are very protective of. Even after the party races through the wilderness and back to civilization with their prize they'll need to look over their shoulder for toxin obsessed cultists stalking their trail.

Further Adventures:

Milo Ultani has something to prove, the oldest of four siblings and a gaggle of cousins poised to inherit the winery he was raised to value hard work and loyalty to the family above all else. All his life it has irked him that his great aunt was allowed to dwell in their ancestral home, some of the nicest land his family owns, leaching off their enterprise like a withered limb. What finally drives him to act is Ivilia offhandedly mentioning that she intends to sign over her house and land to the party as a reward for helping her drink her way to enlightenment again. Resentment turns to rage in the young man's mind as a plan begins to form; A vine must be pruned in order to be fruitful after all.

When the party return with the godly fruit they're going to find Ivilia gone, her home broken into during the night her bed a mess of red that at first seems to be blood, but is infact wine. Surrounded by experts it doesn't take long for the vino in question to be identified as belonging to Jadash Hill, one of the Ultani's oldest rivals who are known for their unscrupulous business practices. It's at this point that Milo comes forward, reporting that some of their carters had gotten into brawls with those from Jadash Hill at a local tollhouse, sending the bastards packing and ignoring their threats of reprisal as idle boasting. This did indeed happen, but only because Milo is in charge of part of the family's delivery operation and instigated the fight himself.

The clock is ticking, the party has a bushel of miracle fruit that's going to rot and the alchemist they were supposed to deliver it to is nowhere to be seen. They can either find Ivilia quick, figure out a method of preserving the fruit, or read through her notes and attempt to concoct the divine wine themselves.

However badly he thinks of her, Milo would never kill his great aunt, having instead had his loyal carters drag her off to a small cottage on the edge of a property the family was keeping fallow for the year. In his reckoning the old woman won't live much longer, and while the emerging feud with Jadash hill keeps the family busy he can figure out a better place to keep his great aunt locked up. He wasn't delicate in his planning but he moves fast and the influence he has with the workforce as the presumptive heir cannot be overstated.

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