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starillusion13 · 8 months

Note

Hello! I love your writing!! I saw that your requests are open so I would like to ask what type of outfit would attract and turn on ateez members👀

Imagines...

These are just my thoughts, you might can agree and disagree at some point in your perspective but knowing them since predebut, this is my opinion on their likings and nature. But honestly, I was really imagining myself while writing this like how would I dress up if I ever get to meet them personally lol. i'm being too much delulu right now. I need some serious therapy.

Hongjoong

The man who is in love with passionate and hardworking girls rather you can say, a dedicated woman. He loves the way if you are always dressed up fashionably according to the occasion. If you are wearing a tight short dress or a long body-hugging slit gown for a night party or business meeting party then you should have to feel under watch. He would steal glances of you now and then and would keep you by his side and whisper some good and nasty compliments, to let others know how to keep their eyes off from you as you are taken by him. He would try to maintain a proper image in front of everyone with a wide toothy grin but behind the sly smirk is how he thinks of bending you in-front of the mirror and see you falling apart in that classy dress. Also, his soft side would get attracted if you wear any clothes and shoes designed by him, like the designer jackets which will make him proud that you are appreciating his hobbies and he would secretly click your pictures in it.

Seonghwa

Oh, a sweet personality who has always this adoration and awe in his eyes whenever he gets a glimpse of you. He loves a person who is a very soft aesthetic and dress up femininely. Wearing cute skirts or frocks like summer dress or casual wears. He would find you the most beautiful one in these outfits. He likes the way your dress flows with the light breeze and a bright smile adorning your face which brings a small smile on his face. He would hold your hand and feel himself the most luckiest one to have you and would try to help you in every other household chores so that you don’t look exhausted and can spend sweet times with him. But, it’s not always about this sweet romance as he might sometimes lose control to see you cooking and back hugging you in the kitchen in those frocks and well, he would bring the heaven to the kitchen counter.

Yunho

A tall handsome who doesn’t know how to keep his eyes off from you. He just finds you attractive in anything. He is like a hopeless lover and feels so happy just to see you holding his big hands with your cute little hands. Maybe, he likes you the most when you wear skirts as he would swiftly lift you up in his arms and place you on his lap, you placing your hands around his neck and both having beautiful smile on your faces. His one hand would caress your face and the other would going up and down your bare thighs. He loves the way you look so vulnerable in those cute skirt and top that it’s very difficult for him to leave you alone. Your every small shifting on his lap makes him hard and painful but no matter what he just wants to keep those cute skirts on you, rest everything off. Theres one more thing that attracts him more is you in his big clothes as you looked like a kitten dumped under the pile of clothes and he would coo and hug you all the day.

Yeosang

Well, he might be of two types. His one personality like you in some cute outfits which are totally like frocks and skirts and sweetly hold your hand and compliments here and there. He would often try to match his outfits with you and let you buy couple wears to let others know to whom you actually belong. His sweet demeanour is far to recognise that’s hiding a demon of possessiveness. He is very shy whenever he tells you about his favourite skirt or dress that looks absolutely beautiful on you. He loves it more whenever there are some cute floral or pattern designs on the dress. But if the dress is looking too sexy on you then just expect his other personality, his fingers inside of you as he would love to see you making little noises in those cute outfits. He just loves you so much so he doesn’t know how to really appreciate you in the dress so he sometimes tries to make a drawing of yours and you secretly keep it treasured in your closet.

San

He just can’t keep his hands off to himself whenever you are around him. He loves to see you in classy outfits where he can proudly present you as his partner to everyone. He has this side where he wants to see you in all elegant and classy and people admiring you for your beauty and success but he also loves your silly side. So, You in any elegant outfits might make him go crazy for you as he would definitely bring you to his parents to arrange for a wedding the next day. Speaking of turning him on, maybe if you are a very confident woman in a classy dress approach him but acts all shy during the conversation with him closely, it might turn your planned day into something else. Maybe his hands and minds both will be somewhere else unlike other times. Welcome the demon inside the sweet man.

Mingi

Tight outfits will make him hold you tightly against his body. Anything that highlighting your curves and hugging your body perfectly would turn him on. His here and there light touches and patting your head with a smile as if letting the others around him know that even if they are looking at you but you are only for him to touch and desire. Licking his lips and staring at you while you sexily sits across him on a sofa when you both have gone for a dine out would make it so hard for him to not drag you home and see you fall apart. But apart from this, he has a soft side which is majorly available the whole day, he is just always whiny for your attention so if you are wearing his favourite outfits then it might make him too soft for you to handle. He might also like baggy clothes on you sometimes as he thinks those look cute on you.

Wooyoung

He is such a Loverboy that he will always let you know about his likings and love for you. As usual, you both first met in the dance studio so that’s the very first thing he liked about you being having the same passion as his and you in the dance practice fits like a tank top or crop tops with sweat pants is the weakest point for him. He loves you in those funky outfits or tomboy-ish clothes but would definitely love anything which gives off an aura of dominance from you. Simply, those just turns him on even if you both are in public. Sometimes, you jokingly wear his clothes especially those hoodies as they are very much comfortable but to him, he wants you to always wear his clothes and maybe do all the nasty things that coming across his mind at the moment.

Jongho

He will never let you know that he loves you in your classy work outfits. Yes, this man is very reserve but a cute lover if you know him after spending 24/7 with him. Every morning whenever you are wearing those straight pants with a plain shirt or solid top , or maybe like a knee length skirt and blazer outfit. OH GOSH, have mercy on the man as he would be staring a bit too obvious that you have to raise your eyebrows and ask him continuously if you would change it or anything wrong with your look. He will wave it off as nothing or swiftly sing few lines for you to make you smile but inside his head the only thing is going on that why it is necessary for you to appear such perfectly for the meetings where all the eyes will be on you and he would not be there to glare them off. Lastly, he might just love you in outfits which are not too much revealing.

[ Please let me know if you like this sort of imagines, this is really my first time doing this sort of writings so idk how it turned out but I had fun. I want to make a NCT ver. on this so badly. Aldo, the other requests are in the queue to be posted soon. wait patiently babygorls, I'm back with all my out of world imaginations..... ]

Taglist: @mymoodwriting @justhere4kpop @anyamaris @yeoobin @icchyi @jwnghyuns @piratequeen-queenofgames @dinonuguaegi @oreharuuu @hwanring @sanwifesstuff @kiwiisnthereoops @kiwiraccoon @hyuukah @kazscara @aceofspadesbiofalltrades [open!]

#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #ateez scenarios #ateez au #ateez fluff #ateez fic #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yunho x reader #yeosang x reader #san x reader #mingi x reader #wooyoung x reader #jongho x reader #ateez ot8 #ateez x you

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cillianmesoftlyyy · 28 days

Text

The Castaway Pt. 1 | Matthew Joy x fem!reader

requested by @tkappi 🖤

Summary: You're running away from Mr. Daws, your adoptive father on Nantucket Island and happen to be saved by a curious sailor. You seek refuge on a whaling vessel in your hopes of making it to the mainland of Massachusetts. The man promises to help you, even if it costs him his job.

Warnings: Hints at possible sexual assault attempts from adoptive father, old-fashioned perspectives on prostitutes, 10-year age gap, mutual trauma.

word count: 4040k

Seventeen- Sjowgren 🎶

“Stop her!” Mr. Daws shouts from the doorway of his store in the overcrowded market. You duck between two men carrying a large basket of oysters, your feet nearly slipping in the deep layer of mud that has only gotten worse in the snowy winter months. Mr. Daws chases you but his rotund belly and smallish legs hinder his pursuit and you manage to put some distance between yourself and the angry fish-marketer.

“Thief! Grab her, by God!” You can hear the anger rising in his voice and notice that more people turn to inspect the scene. Thankfully, no one tries to intervene, they’re too confused by the scene to do anything. To the people of Nantucket, all they see is a young woman, probably 18 or so, in a printed blue dress holding onto her bonnet as she runs down the market lanes. They look for a thief or a criminal and see none, just a girl. You look like the well-off daughter of a merchant or clergyman in your colorful frock and braided blonde hair stuffed into the brown bonnet.

“For thee love of God, grab tha’ girl!” The man tries again to rally the bystanders as he lumbers after you, slipping and sliding in the mud. The passing of a cart cuts him off momentarily but you can still hear his voice calling from a too-close-for-comfort distance. You can’t help but smile as you race down to the docks, clutching a cloth duffle of bread, preserves, and personal belongings- some of which you did sorta steal but from your own home. Mud splatters up the back of your legs, staining your cotton pantletts and underclothes but you daren’t stop and incur the wrath of the fishman.

Your feet scramble in the mud, your boots losing traction. A frightened squeal escapes your throat as you keep running, praying that you make it to the docks and catch a sailboat before the man reaches you. This is not how it was supposed to go. Mr. Daws was not supposed to see you as you snuck out of the fish stall in the market, but he had. Mr. Daws is the man that wishes to marry you, and most shockingly, the man that adopted you a year before from the Nantucket Island Orphanage. He’d treated you well, buying you new frocks, and showering you with kindness until you turned 18… then his true intentions were revealed. He’d only shown you kindness in exchange for your trust. A marriage proposal from the man who by your understanding was your legal father was enough to shatter any trust or affection you held for him. And the things he’d tried to do… you couldn’t stay there any longer. Your only choice is to pay for passage to mainland Massachusetts on one of the many sailboats docked in the harbor.

“Thief!” He screams again and you nearly feel like sobbing because you can’t seem to outrun him in the horrible mud.

“Umph!” The sound of surprise leaves your mouth as you’re jerked to the side by a strong hand. You fall between someone’s arms in the cutaway of an alley and immediately struggle to remove yourself.

“A thief eh?”

You look up. A sailor smiles down at you, his hands still holding your shoulders in place. You look over at the busy market and the man follows your gaze, registering the look of fear in your eyes. Without a word, he pushes you into the shadow of a stall and covers any view of you from the street with his body.

“I hope whatever you stole is worth it,” the man mutters over his shoulder, keeping his eyes on the busy market lane.

“I didn’t steal anything… well not really,” you whisper back, your voice dipping as you added the last part.

“I paid for ye!” Is the last thing you hear Mr. Daws scream as he limps right past you and the sailor. The sailor turns and cocks his eyebrow.

“He paid for you?” His tone is quizzical as he looks you up and down. You don’t look like a prostitute. “Aren’t you a little young?”

You look at the man for a moment, still in shock and totally unfazed by the man’s intervention on your behalf. You narrow your eyes, trying to understand what the man means and open your mouth slowly to respond but the sailor shakes his hand dismissively.

“No, no it's alright. That’s not important. Are you alright?” He glances over at the market again, checking to ensure the angry man wasn’t on his way back. You release the breath you were still holding and bury your face in your hands with a groan of relief but it’s still too soon to celebrate. Mr. Daws could be on his way back any minute now and see you. He could realize that you didn’t go down to the docks once the crowds of the market faded before the harbor. Your eyes snap open again and you grab the sailor’s forearms desperately.

“Please, can you help me?” You manage to ask, your heart still racing. The sailor’s brow furrows and he nods with visible concern.

“I can try, what’s happened? If you are a thief I won’t report you…”

Your knees buckle randomly and you collapse. You would have landed in the mud if not for the sailor grabbing beneath your arms and holding you up. He looks around for a place to set you but there is mud all around, so he exhales tightly and supports your body weight.

“I’m sorry,” you squeak in embarrassment and try to stand on your own.

“Never mind that, are you in trouble?”

You nod emphatically and glance over again at the market lane.

“Was that man chasing you?”

You nod emphatically again and nearly begin to sob for a second time. Your gasps of breathlessness make you feel lightheaded and weak. You lick your lips and try to take a steady breath so that you can speak.

“I- I’m running away. I have to get away from Nantucket. I was going to buy passage to the mainland but I’m worried he will see me and make me go back.”

“Go back… where?” The sailor tries to follow but you shake your head.

“I just need to get off this island. I need to get on a ship and go, go anywhere. Can you help me? I have money for the fare.” You reach into your pocket with a shaking hand to withdraw the roll of banknotes you’d stolen from Mr. Daws to pay for a ticket, either legally or under the table.

“Put it away,” the man nods towards your pocket and looks down at his feet as he thinks. You shove the money back into the safe pocket of your skirt and wipe a tear from your eye. Finally the sailor looks back up and nods.

“Can you walk?”

He lets you go for a moment so you can try to stand without assistance. Your legs are weak but the moment of helplessness has passed. You nod.

“Ok, follow me closely and take my coat.” The stranger pulls off his navy blue peacoat and helps you pull it on over your dress. He takes the duffle from you and when you start to protest, he shushes you with a finger to his lips. “Now take off your bonnet and put it in the pocket of your dress. Put on my hat.”

The sailor removes his cap and hands it to you. You tuck your hair beneath the lip.

“Good, now come on,” he grabs your hand and pulls you through the edges of the market towards the dock. His grip is tight and reassuring as you both walk quickly towards the dock.

At the harbor, the air is thick and gray. You can barely see the mass of shipmen working on the docks as they confer with other men. In your strange disguise, you look like a sailor’s wife wishing your husband farewell and indeed, you see wives doing just that as their husbands set off for whaling expeditions or fishing trips.

“There’s a ship here leaving for the mainland…” His sentence is cut off as you both approach the sailing boat. You squeeze his hand and duck behind a wall of water barrels. Quickly, he realizes what you’re doing and joins you.

“He must be telling the captain. Wait here.” The man tells you and steps back onto the busy path of the dock. He approaches Mr. Daws and the captain of the sailboat with a casual jaunt in his step. Mr. Daws turns toward the man and waves his hands about his head in his usual animated fashion. The sailor rubs his chin as he pretends to look interested. He pats Mr. Daws on the back and bows to the captain before walking back down the dock. The men don’t notice as he ducks behind the barrels beside you once again.

“Whoever that man is that you’re running from, he’s forcing the captain to postpone all his trips to the mainland for the next few days. You won’t be able to get on the vessel without being turned in.”

“Oh God!” You exclaim softly and sink down against the barrels, tears spilling down your pink cheeks. The sailor jumps at your tears and holds his hands out helplessly, unsure what to do.

“Oh please don’t cry! Look, I’ll take you aboard my ship. I stay docked for a few days and in that time, you may be able to board the sailing boat. If not, maybe we can drop you off at our next stop.” The man spoke quickly, his ideas coming to him on the spot. You pause your crying to look at him. You don’t even know who this man is, much less trust him to keep you safe aboard a random ship. But this is what you wanted. You wanted to get away from Nantucket in any way that you could.

“What’s your name?” You ask softly, wary to follow the man now that your shock has subsided slightly. The sailor chuckles at your question, his smile lopsided.

“Matthew, but we can introduce ourselves formally on the boat.”

You nod and wait for the sailor named Matthew to give you a sign that it was safe to move. He glances around the wall of barrels and after a few moments, his hand gropes blindly for your back. Pushing you along by your back, Matthew leads you down a dock and to the right where the larger vessels are docked. A ramp has already been set up and when no one is looking, Matthew scoops you up. You gasp, startled and very uncomfortable as he hurries up the ramp.

“Pretend you're a sack of potatoes or something…” Matthew mutters between his teeth and you dejectedly comply. He throws you over his shoulder and beelines for the passage leading below deck. You can tell immediately when Matthew passes through the threshold because the air is stuffy and humid. It smells like stale food and mildew but thankfully, it isn’t unbearable.

“We’re almost there,” he whispers as he turns a corner or two. The hallways are dark, only lit every few feet with a lantern. When he finally stops, he opens a door and steps inside quickly. He sets you down gently on your feet and steps back to give you room. You exhale slowly and look around. It’s a closet of some kind, full of extra rope and canvas for sails.

“You should stay here for a little while, at least until we know if you can catch the sailing boat. Just don’t wander about. This side of the boat isn’t as busy because we use it for storage and for our workshops but it wouldn’t be good to have you walking about…” He clears his throat pointedly and you realize suddenly, that you haven’t really gotten a chance to look at him since he pulled you to safety. His face had completely slipped from your notice all day, as desperate as you were to get away from Mr. Daws.

Matthew has a grayish face in the pale light below deck, and attractive hollow cheeks below prominent cheekbones. He has an impressive scar above his top lip, splitting his pallet down the middle at a diagonal. He is clean shaven but his hair is unkempt and about as long as you would assume for a sailor. His hair is a chestnut color, lightened from months spent beneath the sun at sea. And his eyes! You draw your eyes up to his. You’d never seen eyes quite like his, so dark blue they championed the color of the sea.

“Well,” Matthew clears his throat, trying to fill the period of silence that you didn’t notice, “now that you know my name, I think it’s only fair that I should know yours.” He keeps his back against the door, creating a respectful distance between you. You look down at your hands, for no reason really, though the blush spreading across your face may be one.

“Y/N,” you answer, looking up again. Matthew nods and trails his fingers absent-mindedly down the strap of your duffle bag still slung over his shoulder. He realizes the bag is yours and sets it down. Seeing him do this, you remember that you’re wearing his peacoat and cap. You remove them and hand them back to Matthew with a shy smile. Your body begins to drain of its initial adrenaline as you watch Matthew put his belongings on once again.

“I’ll be back in an hour or two, and when I come back, I’ll bring you some supper. If another man happens to open this door and see you…” Matthew trails off, his eyebrows pulling together. He looks just above your head on the opposite wall, thinking.

“What?” You prompt him, apprehension clear in your small voice.

“I’m trying to think,” he mutters and sighs gravely. “Tell them you’re my sister, blame it on me. It’s better for both of us that way if you’re caught. Besides, you’ll only be hiding here for a few nights at the longest.”

“Just until I can get safe passage on another ship,” you add with a tense exhale. You try to convince yourself that everything will be ok, despite the extremely strange circumstances.

As if he read your mind, Matthew promises you, “Everything will be fine.” You nod thankfully and watch as he ducks out of the room. When the door is closed, you hear keys jingling against the door which tells you the door is being locked. A rush of anxiety takes you and you rush to the door. The door to the closet is locked by the time you turn the doorknob. Your breath catches in your throat and you panic.

Oh God, I’ve been locked in a closet on a ship by a man I don’t know at all. No one knows I’m here besides him and if I draw any attention to myself and someone else comes… Damn it all!

You think and slide down to your knees behind the door. Matthew seemed so kind and trustworthy… but to be fair, so had Mr. Daws after he adopted you. Your stomach turns.

The closet has only one window, a dirty porthole, but no lanterns so save the aura of sunlight streaming in underneath the door, the room was dark. You stare at the face of your watch by resting your wrist beside the gap beneath the door. You’d decided to give Matthew the two hours he said he would need to return before screaming as loud as you can. You’d already watched one hour go by, fearful tears falling from your eyes. You have stopped brushing them away because it was straining a muscle in your neck. You’re fairly convinced that you have just left one horrible situation for another when you hear footsteps approach the door.

You scramble back in time to see the door swing open. The direct light behind Matthew is too aggressive for your eyes, so you blink and shield your face with your palm. You can’t tell if you’re relieved or not to see him.

“You locked me in,” you tell him flatly.

“Yes…” Matthew starts cautiously, hearing the tone in your voice. “My belief was that you would be safest if you were locked in.”

“Don’t please…” you ask softly and Matthew finally sees the tears on your face.

“Oh, child. Don’t cry again! I shouldn’t have locked you in. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I’m one of the only men on this ship with keys, so I believed this would be the safest arrangement.” Matthew closes the door quickly and crouches down to your level. “Are you alright?” He asks softly and sets down a canteen by your knees.

You wipe your stale tears and wipe your nose on your sleeve. When you nod, Matthew sighs in relief and pushes the canteen closer to you.

“Supper,” he opens the lid. You take the warm receptacle and drink the watery broth. “Now that we know each other’s names, will you tell me why you’re running away?” Matthew tries, his eyes watching your carefully for more tears.

“It’s a long story,” you murmur after you swallow some of the broth. Matthew twists his mouth to the side and sits down on a pile of coiled rope, exhaling loudly.

“We have a few days,” he shrugs and clasps his hands together.

“Right…” you concede and regard the man carefully, still wary.

“Why are you running away from home?” Matthew asks again, not harshly, but his tone is strained with fading patience. He’s risking a lot to hide you aboard, a young girl (and probable prostitute) he doesn’t even know. “If you don’t tell me, I’m likely to remove you from this ship.”

You shake your head wildly and stop him from continuing with an outstretched hand.

“No, please… I’m just not sure where to begin.”

Matthew nods and leans back against the wall, listening intently.

“Um well the man that I was running from is my father, though only legally. He adopted me a year ago.”

Matthew raises a quizzical brow but doesn’t interrupt.

“When I turned 18, just a few months ago, he tried to change the um nature of our relationship.”

“To what?” He leans forward.

“He wanted to marry me.”

“Oh…” Matthew grimaces and scrunches up his nose in disgust.

“When I refused his first offer, he kept asking but more and more forcibly…” You wring your hands uncomfortably.

“Did he try to take you?” Matthew asks without thinking of his audience. You narrow your eyes, confused again by his choice of language for everything.

I’m not sure…” you try to answer, not having understood his question to begin with.

“You’re not sure?” Matthew looks pointedly puzzled for a moment before exclaiming and rubbing his hand over his face. “So, I assume that means you aren’t a prostitute?” Matthew crosses his arms across his chest and cocks his head to the side.

“What?” You gasp in surprise, knowing what that word means.

“I just assumed when your, eh, father said he ‘paid’ for you,” Matthew shrugs apologetically.

“No!” you lower your voice, “I am not a bad woman. Mr. Daws had to pay the orphanage a certain amount to adopt me. He feels like he owns me now because of it.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you. Sailors happen to have a lot of respect for prostitutes.” When Matthew sees your mortified face he sighs again and shifts uncomfortably on the coil of rope. “Forgive me, I’m not used to speaking with young women. We don’t interact with many of you,” Matthew chuckles beside himself and gestures to you.

“But tell me,” he turns serious again, “what do you plan to do when you get to the mainland?”

You shrug honestly, “I’m not sure. I was going to find a family to take me in and work as a maid.”

“You’d do better as a prostitute,” he mutters beneath his breath, then at a normal volume, “Boston would be the place to go. They have wealthier families there. I don’t know how easy it will be to find a job as a maid, especially without references which I assume you don’t have.”

“I’ll do whatever work I can find,” you assure him quickly but then pause and add, “within reason.”

“Ah,” Matthew chuckles at you softly and crosses his arms over his chest again.

“And who are you?” You drink from your canteen as Matthew looks up at the ceiling.

“Well, I’m a whaler. I’m First-Mate on this ship, The Essex,” he turns his gaze to the side, leaning forward, as he tries to recall anything else to say.

“How long have you been a whaler?”

Matthew chuckles again and shakes his head, “A long time.” He meets your gaze with a sheepish smile, “Probably for longer than you’ve been alive.”

“I’m 18,” you say though Matthew had already gathered that from your last story. The truth still shocks him.

“You’re no more than a child,” he shakes his head in disbelief and runs a hand through his messy hair. As you watch him, you realize how old he could possibly be. He must be at least 30, you decide.

“Did you go to school?” You change the subject after a period of silence. Matthew raises an intrigued eyebrow at you and nods.

“Yeah, yeah I did. How could you tell?”

“The way you talk… and your grammar,” you stammer, not realizing how intrusive the observation had been.

“Hmmm,” he nods thoughtfully and scratches his chin. Did you go to school?”

“Some, the orphanage had a good schoolmaster. He was from Boston.”

“Must have been a pretty fancy orphanage,” Matthew laughs softly and clears his throat.

“Are you married?” You break the silence again and Matthew’s eyes shoot up to yours. He swallows tightly and you can tell you’ve stumbled upon a sensitive topic.

“I was,” he answers simply. You look down at the canteen in your hands, ashamed that you asked such a personal question of someone you don’t know.

“Smallpox,” Matthew whispers and you look up in shock.

“My parents too.”

You stare at each other in silence, save the muffled sound of waves hitting the side of the boat facing the harbor.

“Horrible disease. I hear that you go fairly quickly… I wasn’t there.” He moves as he tells you, hiding his emotion with his hands.

“I was there when my parents died but I have no memory of them, not even their faces.”

“How did you know how they died?” Matthew runs his hand over his mouth. You bite the inside of your cheek, an image of the communal grave on Nantucket Island springing into your mind.

“The island kept track of everyone who died from the Pox. My parents’ names are on the list.”

“How old were you?” He continues to ask. You furrow your brow, trying to remember.

“Just a baby, no more than three years old.” You sigh and look back up at Matthew. “What was your wife’s name?”

Matthew frowns when the conversation is turned back onto him. His face darkens and he exhales, not liking to talk about her.

“Abigail.”

You can hear the change in his tone and finish the broth instead of asking anymore questions. Matthew watches you drink the broth silently. When you finish, he takes the canteen and stands.

“I’ll go now, and I won’t lock the door this time.”

“Thank you for- for everything that you’ve done for me today. I owe you.” You stand as he had and clasp your hands together against your apron shyly.

“You're welcome child,” Matthew smiles with closed, full lips. “I’ll come back in the morning after I see about any ships sailing to the mainland. Goodnight.”

He leaves quickly, before you can say goodnight back. Once behind a closed door by yourself, you realize how dark the room had become. The sun is setting and you can just barely see it through the dirty porthole.

xxx

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sophie-hatter-jenkins · 7 months

Text

Rose

Written for @hinnymicrofic February 2024, using December 2023 Prompt 28

Written with love, because everyone gets busy sometimes, and the world always needs more hinny! Also - as usual, stretching the definition of micro!

Rose sat on the bench, watching as the flock of pigeons pecked in the dust at the foot of Nelson’s Column. She enjoyed watching the birds. Everyone else seemed to hate them, to regard them as a menace, but she always found them comically amusing.

She tried to come here most weeks, though it wasn’t as often now. The journey was too much for her aching hip. But she’d force herself if she possibly could, because what was the alternative? Sitting alone in her little flat? Rose much preferred to be out in the fresh air, especially on a day like this.

Besides, coming here, to Trafalgar Square, always made her feel closer to her Stanley. It reminded her of trips to see the paintings in the gallery behind her, when they were first courting. They didn’t know much about art, her and Stanley, but the gallery was free, and neither of them had much spare cash in those days. Besides, it made her feel very posh, dressed in her best frock and hat, looking at the paintings. Afterwards, he’d buy them an ice cream, and they would sit together on these very benches, watching the pigeons, laughing together and falling in love.

She sighed to herself. He’d been gone eleven years now, and it still felt like she was missing a limb, but sitting here, on a bright, sunny day, he didn’t feel so very far away. She smiled to herself, and closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in deeply as she allowed herself to imagine that he’d left her for just a minute to go and buy those ice creams from the little kiosk by the steps.

Her eyes drifted open once more, and wandered over the other people gathered in the square. There was a group of school children, racing back and forth, and scattering the pigeons, while their increasingly harassed teachers attempted to corral them. Three young women that she thought were probably nannies chatted in Spanish as they pushed their young charges in buggies in the direction of Admiralty Arch and St James’s Park beyond. A man in a smart business suit carrying a briefcase was talking to someone on one of those new-fangled mobile phones.

Then a young couple caught her eye. They approached from the direction of Whitehall, walking hand in hand, and eating ice creams. Hers was chocolate, and his was strawberry - exactly what she and Stanley would have chosen. She wasn’t sure exactly how she knew, but it was immediately obvious to her that they were very much in love. Perhaps it was the easy way that the girl tilted her head into the boy’s shoulder, or the way he dropped occasional kisses into her hair. It warmed Rose’s soul to see it.

They made a handsome couple, she thought. The girl was extremely pretty, petite, with a wicked smile and the sort of hourglass figure that Rose had so envied in her youth. She had long red hair that tumbled down her back, and a healthy crop of freckles dusting her skin both above and below her denim shorts and stretchy strapless top. Some of her friends at the bridge club might have had something to say about the substantial amount of skin the girl was showing, but personally, Rose thought she looked cute as a button. She liked to see the young making the most of their youth. It was gone all too soon.

Her boyfriend was tall and slender. At first glance, you might think he was skinny, but the lean, whip-like muscles visible down his arms below the sleeves of his faded green t-shirt told a different story. His hair was black, and very messy, and he was wearing wire rimmed glasses that reminded her of the ones Stanley used to wear. As she watched them, the light breeze caught his hair, and Rose saw a strange scar running down his forehead and through his eyebrow. She frowned, wondering what could have caused such an injury. It was a shame, she thought, that such a handsome face was so badly marked, but the girl didn’t seem to mind and that, supposed Rose, was all that mattered.

Together, they wandered across the stone paving, stopping to look up at the statue of Nelson as the boy tossed the last of his wafer cone into his mouth. The girl gazed upwards, frowning as though confused, and the boy dipped his head to say something to her. The girl looked even more puzzled, then her face cleared, and she nudged the boy playfully, clearly catching him in some joke at her expense. The boy caught her wrists, grinning at her, and she giggled, then protested when he leaned forward to lick her ice cream. They were both laughing when he released her, and she offered him the remains of her cone. He made short work of it, and then drew her towards him, crashing his lips into hers.

Now that’s a proper kiss, thought Rose. The two of them stayed there, locked together, as though they were the only two souls in the entire city, and when they finally broke apart, Rose could see a look of euphoria on the girl’s face. Grinning broadly, she took a pace backwards, spread her arms wide, tilted her chin to the sky and began to spin around. She appeared to the woman as the embodiment of pure joy.

The boy just stood and watched her, his own expression making it clear just how besotted he was. His hand dropped into the pocket of his jeans, and even at quite a distance, Rose could see him swallow hard, as though he was bracing himself for something. A moment later the girl stilled, facing him. Rose thought perhaps he might have called her name. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, the boy dropped to one knee, and in the same movement pulled a small red box from his pocket, presenting it to her.

The girl’s hands flew to her face, which flushed bright pink, a vivid shade that clashed violently with her hair. She nodded vigorously, and her eyes brightened with tears. Gently, the boy took her hand, and slipped a ring onto her finger, then stood and pulled her back into his arms once again. A few minutes later, arm in arm, they began to stroll back up towards Charing Cross Road, passing quite close to Rose as they did so.

“Congratulations,” she told them.

“Oh! Thank you!” exclaimed the girl, beaming. The boy said nothing, only grinned.

Rose sat and watched them go. They both seemed so young, perhaps not even into their twenties. Once again, she was reminded of her and Stanley. They’d married young too, but then again, so had most people back then, eager to put down roots after the war. Stanley had worn his RAF uniform on their wedding day, and he had looked so very handsome. They’d been separated for so long, Stanley aboard a Lancaster bomber as a navigator, while she did her bit on the home front, working as a nurse at a city hospital during the Blitz, each of them facing terrible danger every single day. She remembered how terrified she’d been that he might never come back to her, and when she saw him standing at her door on that wonderful day when he did, the wave of relief was so powerful that her knees buckled underneath her. They’d been married six months later, battered and bruised and very much not the same innocent couple eating ice creams in their Sunday best in Trafalgar Square, but perhaps loving one another more fiercely because of it.

Twisting her shoulders, Rose could just pick out long red hair alongside a messy black head in the crowds, silently wishing them every happiness. She was glad they would never have to know the horror of a war that threatened their very existence, or the pain of an enforced separation where neither could be sure whether the other was even still alive. They would make a beautiful bride and groom, she was sure.

The shriek of a delighted toddler, racing through the flock of pigeons momentarily pulled her attention away. When she looked back, the boy and the girl were gone.

#hinny microfic #hinny #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #ginny weasley #harry x ginny

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avalynlestrange · 1 year

Text

In My Head

Theodore Nott x Reader

Reader: She/Her Pronouns, no house mentioned

youtube

Warnings: None I don’t think? Please let me know if there is any I should put here. I haven’t proof read this so please kindly point out any grammar or spelling mistakes.

Category: One-Shot, Angst?, Fluff?, Songfic, Unrequited Love, Mutual Pining, No use of y/n

Summary: In which Theodore Nott is the man of your dreams. Literally. Who is his?

No sneak peaks 😋

Request: anon requested

Author’s Note: I wanted to write a few more daydreaming scenes but this felt like the right amount. Hope you enjoy! 😊

Word Count: >2k

To The Library (Main Masterlist)

To The Kitchen (WIPs)

To more Theodore Nott fics

To Maisie Peters Anthology

Heartbreak Saturday nights, you are in your bedroom twirling a quill in your hand. You tap it against your notebook. Instead of working on another paragraph of the dream diary Professor Trelawney has assigned, you fantasise about sweet things. Lately both nighttime and daytime dreaming were filled with scenarios of one Theodore Nott…

You were getting ready for the winter ball. Floor length gown sparkling and the colour picked to match Theodore’s tie and pocket square.

You put on every perfume. You make sure you smell like his bedroom when you were in it. It drove him crazy. You danced all evening and he never let goes of your hand. Oh how you wish it could on forever.

You stay in this scene all night…

His touch sends goosebumps all over you as he sways you to the music. Laughing and talking until the moon goes to bed. Not caring about the classes that will be missed that morning.

You sigh. This is all in your head so you continue to write last night’s dreams in your diary. Of course you don’t mention his name in the assignment. After all you were to share this with your class group in which Theodore was in so that you can discuss some interpretations. Your cheeks are red just thinking about what he would say if you mentioned they were about him.

“Darling I was dreaming of you all this time too.” He smiles and you gaze into each others eyes longingly. “Will you be mine?”

“Theodore, I’m yours.”

But this is all in your head.

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

The next day was a Hogsmeade visit and you had plans at the three broomsticks with your friends for the evening. The sun was shining so you are wearing a cute frock. You imagine a moment in your pretend relationship timeline before you were his…

You are wearing the dress you wore when you met him and sent him spinning in the great hall during breakfast. He was on a date with another girl but caught up with the group afterwards. He doesn’t compliment you or pay any attention to you at all.

You see him send glances your way and you flirt with his friends. But it's a beggars revenge cause she's with him again. Theodore shakes his head towards the exit to and you try to look away.

He isn’t very patient and pulls you away outside. He leads you to

“Shouldn’t you be with your date?”

“I told her I couldn’t see her again. I want you.” He confesses.

“Theodore, I’m yours.”

But alas this is all in your head.

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

The three broomsticks is stirring and brimming with students. A cover band fills the pub with their rendition of Weird Sister’s ‘Blood Sucker’. You find yourself bobbing your head to the music.

Glasses on your table are in need of refills and you offer to buy more. The bartender asks what you want as they reach for some stuff in the cupboard under the counter.

“I’ll have a…” A voice overlaps with yours. “Please can I…”

He apologises. “I didn’t see you there.”

You have the urge to pinch yourself because you can’t believe whose voice you are hearing.

He helps you bring the drinks over to your table and your friends fawn over the fact that your boyfriend is such a gentleman. Theodore has his hand in your thigh throughout the night.

And when it’s time to go home, the snow starts to fall like a fairy take. Your dress’ too nice for a jacket, so you’re freezing. Theodore notices you shiver. He takes off his coat and places it on your shoulders.

He’s walking past to the carriage and leads you inside. You sit next to him and on habit, you lean in on his shoulders as you journey back to the castle.

“Say that you’re mine again.” Theodore kisses your head.

“Theodore, I’m yours.”

But once again this is all in your head.

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

The time for lunch is nearly over and you had divination next. It was your favourite subject - well only because you were sat next to your crush. The circumstance was a blessing and a curse. You tend to stumble over your words and not pick yourself back up, and sit in silence the rest of the lesson.

You take your seat and Professor Trelawney instructs you all to share your dreams and talk over possible meanings. Whilst Padma and Parvati gossip about the Yule Ball instead of the assignment across you, you notice that Theodore is squirming in his seat more than usual.

“Is everything okay?” You ask, and you desperately want to reach for his hand as he is so close to touch. He is like a magnet and your fingers draw closer until they are on his. He shifts in his seat slightly cause you to move your hand to your lap. “I’m sorry. You just look a little upset.”

“No it’s okay. I just can’t stop thinking about my dreams.” He grasps his dream journal tightly.

“Why don’t you share and we can unpick it together?” His ears turn a shade of red at your suggestion, but he doesn’t say no.

“There’s this girl. She keeps popping in my dreams. We’re always together in each one.” He fiddles with the corner of the diary cover and when you catch his eye, he quickly looks away. “Sometimes we’re not dating and I get tongue tied about asking her out but mostly we seem happy.”

In the corner of your eye, you see the Patil twins turning their heads towards Theodore.

“This girl must be very important to you. Are you together in real life?” Padma asks as she rests her chin on her arms. Parvati leans in.

‘Please say no’ You plead with your eyes. You feel like half of you is missing but there's no hope. Even if he says no, this girl is literally the girl of his dreams.

“No. I-“

“But you clearly want to be if you’re dreaming about her this much.” States Parvati. Her sister nods in agreement.

He picks at the strands of his quill. “I do but-.”

“You should ask her to the ball!” The girls giggle. “Yes that would be so adorable!”

“But I don’t know if she feels the same way.” A crushing weight is in your chest as you hear him say these words. That is one lucky girl.

“I think she’ll be lucky to be asked out by you.” You hear yourself say aloud.

Theodore’s head sharply looks up to stare at you. His cheeks matches his pink ears.

“You think so?” He smiles. You melt under his gaze.

“What about you? Tell us about what you’ve been dreaming about.” Padma taps your notebook.

“I’ve been having similar dreams I guess.” You mumble.

“Say that again?”

“There’s this one guy who’s been appearing every night.” You glance and take in a view of a frowning Theodore.

“Sounds like you need to fess up to your dream person too.”

And when you don’t elaborate, the sisters go back to their whispers about their gowns and dates. The remaining minutes of the lesson compromised of scribbles and a huffing Theodore.

You want to pour out your emotions. Scream at him, ‘I’m hurting and I’m here. You’re still not looking at me. I’m real and I’m yours for the taking.’

He, however, is occupied with writing and frowning. You conclude that he must be deeply in love with his dream girl so as you look out the window…

At the end of the class, you were the last one out. You had a question for Professor Trewlaney and now you are walking out of the divination classroom.

Theodore stops you at the door frame.

“Walk you to the next class?” He asks and takes your bag off of you.

“Oh thank you.”

There was an uncomfortable silence shared between you. Both of you itching to find out who was in the other’s dream. Theodore calls you to stop and you do.

“Don’t go for him.” The tips of your shoes touch as he steps toward you.

“What do you mean?” You look up. His face merely inches away from yours.

“Forget the guy in your dreams and be with me.”

By his collar, you pull him for a kiss and call him an adorable idiot.

“Theodore, I’m yours.”

“Hey!” A voice snaps you out of your daydreaming.

“Hey Theo.” He smiles at the nickname.

“Walk you to the next class?”

All you could do was nod as your lips seems to be sealed shut.

Unlike your dreaming, the silence was comfortable. It was the air that jolted you ensuring you that this isn’t a dream. Is it?

“Would you meet me at the clock courtyard after dinner?”

Nothing looks or sounds strange. However, this can’t be real. Your lips are still stuck and can’t reply.

Theo stops in his tracks. “It’s okay if you don’t want to. I under-“

“I’ll meet you there.” You turn your head so he doesn’t see your pink cheeks.

Is this all in your head?

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

What did Theodore want from you? You frown in front of the mirror. Have your delusions gotten the best of you that you’re meeting him tonight?

You pat the creases of your dress. If you were going to meet him and he was really there then you might as well put on an outfit that you see yourself in every fantasy. You tell yourself that you should know better but you can’t forget how things were in your head and if this was a vivid dream you’ll take what you can get.

And he’s there. The moonlight shining on his form. Theodore stands when he sees you. There isn’t many students around. He stands by the fountains and you sit on the ledge.

Water splashes you slightly making you jump. He immediately takes off his coat and puts it around you. A gentlemen in real life too. You thank him and the pair of you stare upwards to the sky.

“You wore that dress when I first got the chance to talk to properly. It was first year and you were sitting on this spot with your friends.”

You can’t bear to look at him fearing he’ll disappear within seconds.

“The wind was blowing in your hair. I wished I could talk to you the previous night.” He chuckles at the memory. “I actually threw a sickle in this fountain. I read about it in a muggle book once. That day you dropped something out of your bag on the way in and I thanked Merlin for granting my wish.”

Your eyes widen and you start playing with a loose thread on this coat.

“Too bad that was the only time I got the courage to talk to you outside class. I wasn’t sure if you liked me enough to be my friend. You never spoke to me except for classes.”

His gaze burns your face. Hot red.

“But I watched you everyday. You were always away with the fairies, grinning at yourself and laughing when your friends caught you.”

You gather enough courage to look his way. Eyes piercing through you and the arrow hits your heart.

“Listen. I don’t know who this guy is in your dreams but I want you to know you are the one in mine. It’s torture and a pleasure to have you in my head but I want you to know that I want you to be mine in real life.”

You fish out a sickle out of your pocket. One you were going to use incase he didn’t come to your meeting.

“I guess I won’t be needing this.”

Theodore takes it out of your palm and tosses it into the fountain. He cups your cheeks and leans his forehead against yours. You couldn’t wait any longer and you press your lips to his. You feel complete. When you both pull away to check the other still exists, you breathlessly whisper,

“Theodore, I’m yours.”

You hold his hand in yours and for once it’s not in your head.

#avalynlestrangewrites #based on a maisie peters song #theodore nott x you #Theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #Theodore nott fluff #theodore nott angst #theodore nott imagines #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott fanfic #avalynlestrangereqs #theo nott x you #theo nott x reader #theo nott fluff #theo nott fanfic #wizarding world #mutual pining #slytherin boys

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alienorstyx · 1 year

Text

A bouquet of roses

Precedent chapter : 5

Chapter 6: Paris City of Light

22 December 1945, Paris

The hoped-for end of the war was approaching, already a large part of the North had been liberated by the landing while the South had been liberated by the resistance and the army of Free France, a landing had also taken place in Italy. Leading to his release and the hanging of Mussolini with his mistress by the Italian resistance.

However, despite these joys, the war continued, despite the death of several great figures of the Third Reich, his troops of vile soldiers continued the fight. In a few months everything will be over, at least that's what the American hoped. He was forced into a war that he didn't want. It had cost him a lot in men, especially in cannon fodder.

When he started this war, he never imagined himself being a nanny for his enemy's daughter. And here he is, guarding the girl while the United Kingdom went to buy food at a bakery. To support local businesses that had suffered during the war. It made America laugh, who knew that these traders were more traitors than anything else, they gave themselves to the enemy, selling them their bread and denouncing their neighbor who competed with them. Accusing them of being Jewish or resistant. They were like the rats that populated the garbage cans of Paris, a real vermin. Which could not be eliminated, so many were on every street corner, all the people of Paris who had given themselves without great resistance to the enemies. Cowards that America hated. Who changed sides like shirts according to the advance of the war, and he could without hesitation put his hand to cut that if the Nazis returned in force, those same people who cheered them would be those who would throw them into the arms of these dogs.

All this hatred that America had, reflected only his own cowardice that he had repressed under good «resolutions», a lie to himself.

At the park, where the American was waiting with the child, a comedian set up his carriage, setting up his little wooden stage. Some families watched with curiosity what the actor was doing, dressed in a red frock coat and white pants.

He declared that the show was open, and that all parents and children could attend it for free.

Attracting the curiosity of the American and the little girl, they both approached and sat down on the little benches that the actor had set up. They were joined by other curious parents. People were chatting about the coming of this traveling show, but also rumors about this actor that traveled all over France to tell his stories with puppets, and sometimes he chose people in the crowd to participate in his game. The actor asked for silence, which somewhat displeased America who was listening to the gossip.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Thank you for attending this modest puppet show. I will tell you three stories. The first one is about a little girl who is lost in the woods after running away from a big bad wolf. While the second will focus on a young girl who with her best friend will cross time and space in search of adventure. And finally, the third is a classic story of a knight slashing a dragon to save a princess but not everything went as planned! ARE YOU READY!"

Children shouting positively with joy.

The actor smiled and stood behind the big box. The red curtain rose, the play could begin.

"One evening like the others, a little mouse,Lily, was returning from her walk in the woods. She had picked beautiful fruits. Alas, she had taken the wrong path, after venturing deeper than usual, the woods that were previously so familiar and reassuring to her became darker, but above all more menacing, as she walked more. The poor little mouse had only her candle to light in these woods, she had to find her way back before it went out.

She turned left and then twice right and then left again. In the distance she saw a large tree, it was the cherry tree of the village chief. It was him who discovered it many years ago. She was closer to the road than she thought. Her small steps went faster and when she approached the cherry tree, her lantern lit up what seemed to her to be a bush in the darkness but which was actually the body of a child.

Frightened Lily dropped her lantern. The noise of the object did not wake the child. Distrustfully, Lily approached, stooped without leaving the child for a single second from her eyesight. Taking back her lantern, she played the light on the face of the stranger.

This burst of light manages to awaken the child, who uttered a scream of surprise. Just like Lily who was startle.

Lily tried to reassure the child, as best as she could. BUT! The child began to cry."I...""What's your name?" asked Lily gently."Cassandra.""Why are you in the woods, Cassandra?""A huge wolf devoured my whole family."When she heard the word «Wolf», Lily began to tremble. She knew very well who Cassandra was referring to. She nevertheless tried to hide her fear, not to worry the other little girl, who must have been slightly younger than her. Cassandra continued her unfortunate story. The wicked wolf had begun to devour her mother, piece after piece, starting with the clothes she wore. His hunger wasn't stopping, he devoured Cassandra's brother. The remaining child being wasn't plump enough or having enough shape, he decided to lock her in a small room where she would receive every day several meals and various accessories to keep herself clean and appetizing. Some evenings, he would come to check that she was growing well, sometimes asking her to undress and then after observing her. He judged that she was not yet tender enough to be devoured. But she would be, just in time for the great banquet. The night before the banquet, a black cat stood at the top of the window, and he proclaimed in a calm but authoritative voice:"Little child, if you want your salvation, pray all night and when the day comes, you will offer me your eyes and I will give you the key to go out."The child accepted his offer. And all night she prayed. When dawn lit up the tiny room, the desperate child turned to the cat. And as promised he took her eyes and replaced them with two golden buttons that will guide her to safety.He gave her the key to get out of her room. The child hesitantly walked into the Wolf's house. But the latter having drunk all the day before, did not realize anything. The house could tremble that he would not notice.Once she arrived at the exit, the child smiled. She was finally free.She ran in the woods for several hours, despite the hunger that held her belly and the fear of being caught. She stumbled several times against the roots, but immediately rose.Tired by all this walking. The child fell asleep against a tree. The birds promised her that they would watch over her while she slept. But as night fell, everyone flew to their nest. And so the two little girls met.

Moved Lily decided to help the poor child.

The two girls advanced into the forest, the moon's rays lit the trees with a soft light. The child felt that the forest became less worrying when she held the mouse hand.

They arrived in Lily's modest home. It was time for the children to sleep."

The puppeteer closed the small blue curtain covered with stars and the round moon. And looked at his crowd, the children waited impatiently on their makeshift seat, their parents looked at the sky with an air of anxiety. Were they afraid of another air attack on this beautiful day? That amused the artist. The show would continue. He clicked on a small button that activated a mechanism and the curtain rose.

"Lily took the child to see the village wizard.

"Do you know how to defeat the Great Wolf?"

"No, I'm sorry. No one can beat him. Try asking The Great Fox, she's a hunter and she'll know better."

The two children thanked him and quickly went looking for her.

They found her next to the blacksmith's house, sitting on a tree trunk, sunbathing.

"Madam Fox, great hunter of the forest, do you know how to defeat the great wolf who devoured the family of this little human?"

" Yes, I know this creature. He's very strong and powerful. I can't beat him. His mastery of magic makes him overpowering. You must ask the wizard for help. I'm sorry."

"We've already been to him. And he told us to see you because you might know how to beat him."

"Alas, this is not the case and I can do nothing. If this is the revenge you'll seek, it will be difficult for you to achieve."

They questioned the other members of the village, but the answer was always the same. Nothing could defeat the great wolf, who was famous for his great knowledge of all sorts of magic and his brute force. Some said he was as high as the largest tree in the forest. Others that he could sneak into the slightest crack and that he could surprise you at any time. That his hunger was immense and never seemed to be full. And that those who had tried to overcome him had ended up devoured by him. His skin was so thick that the arrows and the tips of their swords didn't scratch him. His fangs were so sharp that he could cut through everything. Some whispered that he had already eaten a whole village that had upset him, including the houses. The grandmothers whispered to their grandchildren, that if they went out at night they might be taken and then eaten by the big bad wolf.

The two girls didn't know what to do anymore, they had spent the day looking for a solution, but all that came out was that the wolf was far too powerful for them. It was dinner time, but neither child was in the mood for it. They sat there, sitting in the fresh grass, thinking of a solution. The little human sang a little song that she had learned from her late mother.

She stopped when she saw the hunter come back from the forest, she held in a cage a little black cat, which seemed to sleep. The child immediately recognized it was the cat who had helped her out.

Cassandra ran towards the hunter. And asked her:

"Where did you find this cat?"

"In the woods. He walked with a long golden thread."

It was at that time that America totally fell away. He listened with one ear to the adventure of these two puppets. He had to remain on his guard, an enemy could always arise. He was watching the little girl, who was watching the play carefully, her eyes shining like stars. He was pleased to see the child having fun and forgetting what was going on around her. This carelessness peculiar to children, he could sometimes regret. America remembered those innocent moments when he fought battles with sticks against the others boys, who had the same age as him, in the suburbs of New York. Unaware of what the real war was and the suffering it brought like a funeral mantle. He hated more than the whole war, so many lives lost to self-centred leaders. Yet he knew that if he wanted peace, he had to do it. He had pushed it so far until he was forced to act. It was in his best interests after all.

The American tried to focus his attention again on the puppet show, without much success. The plot had gone too far. The two little girls were in the wolf's house. They were walking with felted steps. The little girl with blond hair poured a liquid into a glass. Poison, probably, thought the American.

The smell of a fruity fragrance grazed his nostrils. A rather robust woman sat beside him. She was dressed all in black. Her face was partly hidden by her beret and the black lace veil which decorated it, falling delicately on her face.She placed her bag in the small space between their feet, looked at the spectacle for a few minutes and then left again.

The bag! Is it a bomb? America wondered, he took the small object gently. He heard nothing. All the sounds around him had disappeared. Slowly he popped the little button holding the bag. His heart stopped for a moment. Nothing. Papers? A picture? But it's France. What's she doing there? Is she asleep? Why is she lying down? What's going on around? It looks like the inside of a train. The landscape is blurry. What the hell happened?! I have to warn him. Shit! Why is he still not back! A fucking bakery in Paris is not the most difficult thing to find. What the hell is he doing! And this woman, she's already disappeared. It will be impossible to find a fat woman, dressed only in black in this damn city. Especially just before Christmas. Wait, don't tell me. That son of a bitch is stopping in front of a toy shop . And that he is currently comparing what might please this kid. Misery. We're in trouble here. The show should be over soon and we can go looking for him.

The show is finally over. America took the little girl by the hand and led her to the park gate.

"Did you enjoy the show?"

"Yes!" replied Esperenza, enthusiastically. "I wish Mother and West could have seen it. I am sure they would have loved it. Especially when Cassandra and Lily release everyone at the end. And the wolf is turned into a skunk. It was fun!" The little girl laughed but America could see the sadness in her little eyes. So young and so unhappy, life had been cruel with her, and America pitied her. With a gesture he did not recognize himself to make, he took her in his arms, lifting her without difficulty. The child burst into tears and America gently stroked her back. He did not know what to say, what comforting words could soothe her grief. He remembered his mother's words, and tried to formulate them. It seemed to work, the little girl cried a little less.

"I am hungry." Murmured the little girl with a voice broken by tears.

"We're getting something at a bakery. What do you want to eat?" Surprisingly ask America in a sweet tone.

" Pain au Chocolate and Croissant."

"Good. I'll have some bread for tonight, too."

"With or without seed?"

"We'll see what they have. Otherwise, we'll have brioche."

"Ah ahaha !" The child began to laugh. "We don't eat brioche with something salty!" She protested.

"You don't know that. I know some very good recipes."

"It must not be good."

"Yes, I will. I will give you a taste."

"No!" Esperanza drew her tongue at him.

The rest of the day passed calmly and America manages to amuse the child. The United Kingdom finally joined them at dinner in their hotel room. America had bought sandwiches and had tried to take some pig's pie from a can and put it on a slice of brioche, then he tried to give it to Esperanza. The child preferred to take refuge at the top of the table rather than eat it. They had been running around the room like crazy laughing at each other. And it was at this scene that the United Kingdom came back into the room. With a stunned look, he sat down on the chair. Before bursting into laughter.

22 December

The day was nice, I saw a very funny show. It reminded me a little of my life. One of the puppets had blond hair like mine. I hope that like her, in the end I will find my family. I miss Mom and West. I made you a little sketch of the characters

She's Lily, she's a very smart mouse, she's the one who saves Cassandra

Cassandra is the puppet that resembles me, she is a bit like me, she is a little shy, frightened by the future and she also lost her brother and her mother. At least her daddy didn't become the wolf that ate them.

The puppet... puppeteer (I asked Mr United Kingdom what we call the one who does this kind of show, it is not easy to write), he gave me a small drawing representing Cassandra and me. He found it amusing that we looked alike. He did it super fast. Even America was surprised.

Now he just left on the balcony with Mr United Kingdom, they are discussing. I do not know what. I dare not come near them if they talk about me or HIM.

I ate a lot of good things today. Everything is fine. There were lots of shops on and lights everywhere, it was beautiful.

I cried

Ah! They're back. It's time for bed. See you tomorrow, my dear diary. We're getting close to Christmas, I wonder if Santa's coming to see me. I was a good kid, wasn't I?

#countryhumans #fanfic #A bouquet of roses #countryhumans east germany #countryhumans united kingdom #countryhumans america

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mummagoose0 · 1 year

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delysias · 2 years

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the changing rooms of a department store, midday on september 14th with @elpresidentc

a new dress, that’s what daddy’d said about the whole thing. don’t think about it too much delysia. it’s not worth worrying over. why don’t you go buy yourself a new dress? distract yourself from all that before i have to call doctor benoit.

nothing, to mayor dubois’s estimation, was much for his daughter to worry about — or perhaps it was that nothing much was worth discussing; delysia could never tell if it was the contents or the talking itself that her father wanted to avoid. in the only act of defiance she could muster, she’d snatched the extended money clip and promptly picked out enough frocks to run through the cash. and then pulled even more. charge it to my father, please.

she’s stood on the pedestal while the girls around her work at pinning and pulling a custom piece made of a newly arrived silk. she’s not rude, not really, just sullen in a way that doesn’t suit her — resembling in some form a child that cannot find something she holds dear, eyes scanning the ground and beyond for what she’s lost. restless. the dark-haired woman that crosses the shop isn’t the nameless thing gone missing, but the bluebell sitting on one of her ribs twitters at the recognition all the same.

“ms. robinson —” pins, bare legs, and strange hope, all clatter along with delysia as she tries to step from the platform only to stopped by concerned hands. tch, she shoos, waving their makeshift blockade away to the curtains that partition one part of the shop from the next. “oh, ms. robi — minerva —” one hand clutches velvet, the other waves excitedly in the air. “over here!”

#c. minnie #love how i said these were gonna be short and then... this #let me know if anything needs changing !!

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kidskoutureind · 2 days

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