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anki-of-beleriand · 4 months ago

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A Heart Made of Glass ch.16

Summary: Ten years ago you left Wanda and the Avengers to heal your broken heart. You never stopped being a hero, just as you never stopped being in love with her. But life had to go on.

Now, after all that time, she is back and with her is a young woman needing help and an enemy that may not be as afraid as Wanda to lay a claim on you.

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Powered!F!Reader - Scarlet Witch x PoweredF!Reader - Past Wanda Maximoff x Vision - CarolxF!Reader

Warnings: Angst, drama, mentions of cheating, fluff, violence, smut, Switch!Reader, internalize homophobia, hurt, comfort, Wanda being a complete mess, anger management issues, jealousy, Requited/Unrequited love, idiots in love, swearing, mentions of alcohol. More tags as the story progess.

Author's Note: This story is a continuation of Dirty Little Secret I was really surprised at the response I got for the story, I did all the tags you guys ask for but if I forgot someone please do not hesitate to tell me. Thank you for the support.

The end is near, Reader and Wanda finally had some common ground to work with and now the only thing left is a happily ever after.

Please, do remember English is no my mother tongue so forgive my grammar, spelling and funny mistakes.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Epilogue

Chapter 16

A leap of Faith, a simple request

The first meeting in Nepal would be the first meeting of a series of visits Y/N did for over four months.

Wanda had been confused at first, though she found herself pleasantly surprised to find you in her lodge every morning sharing a good story or a training session. Sometimes, the both of you would reach the closest camp in which you would see many alpinists and hikers, all of them getting ready for a summit on Mount Everest or K2. Wanda didn’t dare to press over the sudden relationship she had been building with you, she was happy to receive your words and your caress, to see your smile or feel your lips on hers whenever the mood struck.

Every weekend had become a highly expected moment in her life, Wanda prepared everything to welcome you while also trying to get the courage to have a serious conversation with you. Would you finally stay more than a couple of days? Would you want to stay with her? What exactly was happening between the both of you?

There were many questions that still haunted Wanda, but she had not dare to voice them in fear of breaking the relationship she had with you. So, she opted to keep quiet while enjoying the moments the both of you shared until she was ready to face the reality of her emotions and give the last step towards you.

For more than four months you two had been sharing a relationship through the distance, and Wanda knew she had sworn to fight for you and not let go, and whatever fears or insecurities that had built in her should be put aside in favour of that leap of faith. Wanda had been nervous, but she arranged everything to be ready for your visit and, this time around Wanda was ready to ask you to stay or take her with you.

But, just as she got ready to clear things up within the both of you, just as she got ready to leave herself expose and at your mercy…you didn’t show up.

At first she thought it was normal, your life was still happening right in the outside world and you had been quite busy at your work back in Norway while also with your mission as hero. Wanda checked her phone and her email, but you didn’t send a message and after two days of waiting for you she knew you wouldn’t come that weekend.

Disappointment came rushing inside her mind, she waited for an explanation but nothing came and soon her disappointment transformed in sadness and the old doubts and fears drown her thoughts until she just tried to focus on her routine waiting for you to come the next weekend with an explanation.

The explanation never came and you didn’t show on that weekend.

And then, you didn’t show the next one, or the one after that.

Wanda tried to rationalize the situation, she tried to convince herself that you were busy or perhaps in a highly secretive mission but so far she had not received any news or any big going on in the outside world. It was as if you had vanished, and with you, any form of contacting you. Your phone didn’t work, and there was no way for her to get into contact with Natasha; for a moment Wanda thought about America but then she thought herself desperate and while she was dying to know what happened to you, a little voice inside her head told her perhaps, you grew bored of her and decided to simply not continue her visits any more.

As easily as you had begun this routine, you had decided to cut it over.

This was just a single thought of the many that came rushing inside her mind day after day, Wanda found herself busying herself with different activities inside the compound, she gave herself to the training and to the distractions while finding odd jobs in the temple and the small towns surrounding Kamar-Taj.

It worked, for a little while.

But there was nothing much one would do to quiet down the doubts and growing anxiety inside the heart. Wanda wanted to be angry at you, she wanted to be furious at your sudden dismissal of her, at your silence and sudden disappearance; but she couldn’t. Instead of that, she was just sad, and found herself trying to ignore her emotions while trying to get control of her life.

For over a month, Wanda tried to forget about you.

And while Winter was approaching, and she stood at the edge of a cliff overseen the beautiful landscape surrounding the Himalayas she tried to get a hold of her thoughts and her emotions. Tears rolled down her cheeks, but not a single thought came through her mind, the only thing she could do was feel and that was enough for the time being.

Wanda sensed the approaching presence of someone powerful, she didn’t need to pounder too much to know who was coming her way. With a quick gesture, she tried to wipe away the tears on her cheeks.

“You are quite difficult to locate when you decided to hide away, aren’t you, Wanda?”

Wanda tensed turning to the left, her green eyes gleaming with unshed tears furrowing her brows. Stephen was dressed in his fighting attire, he looked tired and a little dishevelled but otherwise untouched; the older man waved away the unasked question.

“Rough night, nothing important but I mess up and ended up with a house falling on top of me.” He offered a sheepish smile; Wanda raised a brow pressing her lips to hold back her smile.

“Right, what brings you here, Stephen?” Wanda finally asked tilting her head to focus her stare to the mountains. “I was trying to get some alone time, and I just…I don’t think I am a good company at the moment.”

Stephen nodded understanding the hint but ignoring it altogether, Wanda rolled her eyes not wanting to have any type of conversation with anyone. She scoffed when the man stood beside her, his hand reaching inside his pocket producing a single envelope. Wanda frowned tilting her head to the man who was trying really hard to keep his expression neutral.

“I understand, but I think I come here with news and perhaps to alleviate the turmoil you had been experimenting as of late.” The knowing glance he shot Wanda told the young with Stephen knew about her recent heartbreak.

She crossed her arms rolling her eyes while also getting a spark of curiosity, she squinted her eyes when Stephen waved away a single envelope, this time around he lost his smile and was showing a more serious façade.

“My mission took me to Florence, it was a last minute request by Stark and I decided to do so if only to shut the man up.” Stephen said talking a step closer to Wanda. “I met with some people there, and I was told to give you this.”

Now, Stephen had Wanda’s full attention, she grabbed the letter scrunching up her nose turning it around until her eyes fell on the familiar handwriting.

“This is…” Wanda trailed off, her frown deepening while the anger she had ignored up until then came back and she closed it almost throwing it away.

“She was hurt during a mission.” Stephen said before Wanda could speak or do something else, “It was supposed to be a routine safe and rescue mission but they found some troubles, she tried to play the hero role and got badly hurt.”

“She got hurt…” Wanda opened the letter missing the sympathetic glance Stephen sent her way.

“Nobody knew about her visits to you, Wanda.” Strange explained, “They found out as soon as she woke up and started asking for you, I think that may explain her absence as of late.”

“Hn, I didn’t even notice.” Wanda mumbled reading the letter you had tried to write to her, Stephen hid his snort behind a cough.

“Right, so you haven’t been mopping around and…”

“I wasn’t mopping!” Wanda exclaimed, her magic igniting in her hands while her cheeks coloured red. “I just…I was…I…”

“I know.” Stephen said nodding to the letter, “Tony sent a jet for you, it will be there until tomorrow morning, a car is waiting for you as well. Don’t be late.”

Wanda watched as Stephen turned around walking away, she played with her lips before calling out to the older man.

“Are you…I mean, late I’ve been…” Wanda sighed frustrated turning to Stephen. “I’m still trying to find myself, to do right and to get a hold of my emotions, are you sure I should go?”

“Wanda, you have been mopping around because you missed her,” Stephen cocked his head to the side, his eyes finding those of Wanda, “take the word of a man that lost everything for not being brave enough, Wanda, go after her and keep fighting for what you want, talk to her and don’t let any misunderstanding or lack of communication get in the way.”

With those last words, Stephen turned around and left.

Wanda stood there feeling the cold wind hitting her face, she grabbed the letter and went back to the words you had written for her. The explanations and the invitation to go to you, to stand beside you, to be a part of your life.

Wanda wrapped her arms around herself, she lowered her gaze and in a single moment of decision she went back to her cabin to get her things.

It was about time she stopped running from the things she wanted and start running after them.

The Amerigo Vespucci Airport was the second busiest airport in the Tuscany, located in the city of Florence it stood as a welcoming bacon to international travellers into a city that breath Renaissance, culture and history. The private section of the airport was a safe heaven for those who wanted to go incognito to the city, and Wanda soon found herself being attended as the jet landed in the city.

She glanced around while the customs and border protection agent came forth to speak with the pilot. She grabbed her backpack tightly, her eyes glancing around the place before they fell on a dark car waiting silently at the other end of the hangar. The officer spoke in broken English pointing at her then at the passport before nodding and giving back the document.

“It seems we are cleared, ma’am, the driver will take you to the agreed location.” The pilot said giving her the papers back before pointing to the car.

“Thank you.” Wanda offered a nervous smile before making her way to the car, once inside the driver merely gave a warm welcome before driving down the empty streets of the airport to the closest entrance.

Once they left the airport Wanda could enjoy the magnificent look that the city was offering her. She could see the Tuscan Cypress decorating the highway while the people drove without a care in the world. This kind of scenes always brought memories to Wanda, she couldn’t help but remembered being on the run without a chance of enjoying the places they visited or having a chance to actually have friends, go out, have a nice dinner.

Her world had been changing so much, she sometimes forgot there was another world right outside waiting to be discovered. Wanda smiled observing the busy streets with people coming in and out of work, the students enjoying the afternoon sun while running or walking around not a single tourist was on sight which told Wanda this was a part of the city reserved for the Italians living in the city.

She wondered if you were aware of her visit, if perhaps you had planned all of this just to get her out of the coldness that was Nepal into the warm that was the region of Tuscany at the moment. But so far she had not received a single call, and no body had come for her to the airport. She played with the idea of calling Tony but decided against it, if the man wanted to contact her he would have done so as soon as she entered the plane; a part of Wanda knew why they had kept silence, they were waiting to see how the story would end.

Wanda couldn’t blame them, she was also waiting patiently to see how her story with you would end.

Soon they left the busy streets to enter a more residential section of the city, Wanda watched as they went up the terrain with less people walking around and many houses protected by high fences and beautiful trees. She felt her heartbeat that tad bit faster, her hand sweating lightly while the tingles in her lower abdomen intensified.

The car turned around a corner and soon she found herself watching full properties, all guarded by wooden gates and walls protecting their inhabitants. She wondered just what kind of place where you located at, when the man turned one last time going up a hill until he reached a gate standing tall protected by a stoned arch and cypress sneaking out of a stoned wall. The man lowered the window while showing an ID to the gate’s security system, soon there was a small bell and the doors opened right in front of them.

Wanda could hardly wait to see you, she was glancing out of the window while playing with the words inside her head. The car stopped at the main gate, and Wanda couldn’t help but gasp.

“Wanda!” America came running wrapping her arms around the young woman who couldn’t help the shock from showing on her face.

“America?” Wanda returned the hug, stepping aside America gave her a weak smile.

“I missed you, you know?”

“I missed you too.” Wanda shrugged lightly, “I’m sorry I just…”

“I know, Y/N told me some things so…I get it.” America bounced on her feet running to where the bags were left. “But now, you’re here so I can forgive you for that.”

Wanda chuckled grabbing one of her bags and going with America inside the house.

The place was enormous, with two living rooms and a single dining room leading to the backyard and the pool Wanda could understand why they chose such location. America was talking non-stop, she told Wanda about school and the life in Norway; for Natasha and Yelena had been important that America learnt the basics while also learnt about her powers so whenever they had any easy mission America went with them.

“But this one, well it went out of control and…”

“Where is she?” Wanda finally asked when they reached the second floor.

America winced tilting her head, “she is asleep, pain medicine really takes a toll out of her.”

Wanda furrowed her brows; she glanced around trying to guess which one was your room but her eyes found those of America who was shooting her a sympathetic smile.

“Don’t worry, she will be up in no time.”

“I just…” Wanda brushed some hairs out of her face, “I just found out, after a month of not having any new from her I just…”

America pressed her lips together, after a moment of hesitation she pointed to the left to a long corridor leading to a single wooden door. Wanda hesitated for a moment but before she could move America placed a hand on her arm, her eyes twinkled strangely while she put on her best serious face.

“I’m glad to see you here, Wands, and I know you and Y/N had been seeing one another for some time,” Wanda could tell that in the last couple of months America had changed, no longer was she looking tired or scared, if anything she was looking more mature and relaxed, responsible as she grabbed the bags and stepped back.

“I really want for you guys to be happy, perhaps this could be your chance, you know?”

Wanda smiled nodding, “I know.”

“Good then, go before Natasha and Yelena get here, they get really overprotective of Y/N when she is in that state.” America turned around leaving Wanda alone.

With a sigh and wiggling hands, Wanda made her way to your room.

The place was covered in different shades of blue, the balcony faced the pool and the backyard, and the fresh wind of the afternoon was sneaking inside the room mixing the smell of flowers and nature inside your room. Wanda softened her features when her eyes fell on your sleeping form.

You were on your side, deeply asleep with your hand right above your face and one leg placed carefully on a pillow. It was protected by a cast, and your face and head were covered with bandages. You really were hurt, and soon Wanda realized all around the room there were medical implements to help out during the healing process.

With a knot on her throat, Wanda approached your bed her trembling fingers caressing your cheek while the tears blurred her vision for a moment. All this time, she should have looked for you, perhaps insist to try and see what happened instead of letting her own insecurities and her own fears to cloud her judgement.

“What took you so long?” Wanda almost fell down from the bed when you spoke, you offered a lazy smile your eyes fluttering opened.

“Y/N!”

“Wanda!” Your voice was hoarse, wincing as you turn on your back.

“You were awake?” Wanda asked with reproach in her voice.

You tried to sit down, it was taking some effort until Wanda came right in to help you out. Her arms wrapped around you, and she was close enough to feel your warmness against hers. You offered a smile shrugging.

“I was just resting not sleeping, thank you.” You rested your back on the wall, taking a good look at Wanda who decided to sit on the bed.

“You…” Wanda started finding the words strangled in her throat and her eyes filling up with tears.

“Hey, I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you about this.” You started grabbing her hand in yours, your thumb drawing circles on the back of her hand.

“It’s okay, I…” Wanda trailed off, she didn’t want to sound foolish by telling you the million questions that came to her mind.

She was not ready to share with you her inadequacy and her self-doubt. You nodded lightly, softening your features while squeezing her hand tenderly.

“I should have said something, but I just…I wanted you for myself.” You said softly, trying to clear your throat.

Wanda leaned to the closest bedside table where a single glass of water was resting, you took the glass grateful before continuing.

“I didn’t want anyone saying anything at all, I just…”

“I get it, I know what you mean…” Wanda hesitated before lifting her hand to brush away some strands of hair, she leaned in her lips parting slightly. “Y/N…”

You lifted your hand cupping her cheek in your palm, leaning in closing the distance by brushing your lips against hers. The kiss was soft, a simple gesture of reassurance for you and her, it last but a few seconds but it was enough to leave Wanda trembling and you with a racing heart.

“I missed you, Little Witch.” You mumbled pecking her lips, Wanda smiled nuzzling her face on your neck.

“I missed you too.”

Wanda leaned back, glancing out of the window before returning her eyes to you.

“I thought you didn’t want to continue with your visits.” She finally revealed looking away from you. “I thought I messed it up all over again, and I just…Y/N, what are we doing? What does it mean this? I just…”

You could see the conflicting emotions in her green eyes, how confused she was about what had happened in the last couple of months in which, once more, your relationship with her had shifted. You made yourself that questions moments before the mission, you had been standing by Yelena’s side when you realized how deeply in love you were with Wanda, how your feelings for her were the same they had shifted and they had matured and at the moment they were more intense.

You weren’t the only one thinking that, or even experimenting it. Seeing the anguish in Wanda’s face told you she was just as deeply sensitive with the whole situation as you were.

“Walk with me?” You asked tenderly, Wanda furrowed her brows before nodding.

“Yes, sure I…” She stood up watching as you signalled the far wall where a single crutch was resting.

“You need help? I mean there is only one.”

“Yeah, I didn’t break the leg per se, but I did some serious damage to the muscle and the joint, so walking is difficult.” You explained standing up with her help and that of the crutch.

“So, you are at my mercy?” Wanda asked wiggling her brows, you raised a single eyebrow shooting a daring glance.

“You want to try that theory out?” The blush that form on Wanda’s face was beyond adorable and you couldn’t help but laugh. “Good, perhaps later we could see if I am or not at your mercy.”

“I know that I am at yours.” Wanda finally said walking past you and opening the door for you to come out of the room.

Your heart jumped happily, your smile growing at the sight of Wanda there with you once more. With a chuckled you limped engaging Wanda in a conversation about the mission that had left you out of commission for a while.

__________________

“When did she get here?” Yelena glanced out of the window of the kitchen, she squinted her eyes following you and Wanda as the both of you strolled through the yard.

“Uhm, around three?” America put the spoon on the gelato Yelena brought for her, “I think so, she came here in one of Tony’s cars.”

“Of course it was Stark.” Yelena huffed turning around, she lifted a hand pointing an accusing finger at America, “and you let her in!”

America rolled her eyes, she knew Yelena tended to be highly protective of Y/N but as of late her arguments against Wanda had worn thin and she was just trying to get a hold of what was really happening and how everything would end, Much like everyone in the life of Y/N and Wanda.

“Please, you and I both know they have been seeing one another for more than two months, nobody thought of telling Wanda about the mission and she was really affected by this.” America rested her cheek on her hand, her eyes on Yelena.

“What?” Yelena grabbed her own gelato shaking her head.

“Do you think they will go back to being together?”

Yelena leaned back against the counter, she thought about the things that had happened in the past. She had been there, and she had heard the story and the wounds, but after they learnt the full story and went through so much, forgiveness was not a crazy thought. You had been so happy as of late, singing and laughing, being a different kind of person and Yelena knew she owed it to Wanda coming back and wanting to be a part of your life.

“I think it is a possibility, but this time around if something were to go wrong…” Yelena left in the air the possibility of negative consequences, America tilted her head thoughtful.

“I think this time around could be different, and I think that’s the reason why they had been dancing around one another, you know?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s just that if this time around everything goes well, they have seen how their lives could turn out to be. The twins, and the house and the married life, everything would be possible and happiness would be there.” America shrugged, “I just thing sometimes we are more open to the negative outcome instead of the positive one because we are afraid of getting hurt or getting lost in the feeling.”

“You don’t have a right to sound so wise,” Yelena scoffed shaking her head, America smirked.

“I learnt from the best.”

“Oh, thank you…”

“I mean, Natasha…”

“Brat.” Yelena threw a paper towel that America grabbed in the air, she was about to throw it again when a heavy hand rested on her shoulder.

“Children, please.” Natasha gave her sister a glance before turning to America, “what are you two discussing about?”

“Y/N and Wanda.”

Natasha lifted a brow, her eyes following the stare of Yelena until she found Wanda and Y/N standing in the far corner of the yard.

“When did Wanda get here?”

“This afternoon.” America explained, Natasha softened her features as she watched your smile and the easy conversation growing between the both of you.

“I guess that’s good, right?” Natasha ruffled America’s hair winking at Yelena who chuckled at the gesture.

“I guess, what do you think?” Yelena gauged Natasha’s face, she was waiting for a signal that revealed the real thoughts of Natasha but the woman was a tomb.

“I think we need to make more food, and you two have a mission tomorrow so no staying up late watching silly movies.”

“You know I am a highly functional adult and that I can go to bed whenever I want?”

“I think you are an adult, but the functional part is up for debate.” Natasha replied chuckling at the offended expression in Yelena’s face.

America laughed ignoring the mocking glare from Yelena.

“I am a trained assassin, you know, I can…”

“I’m just going to say two words,” America smirked in triumph lifting her hand and lifting a finger when she said those two words, “Kate Bishop.”

Yelena opened her mouth and then closed it again, her cheeks coloured red with her hands wiggling to try and make a point that was lost when Natasha came closer to her to close her mouth by putting two fingers under her chin.

“She got you there, sis.”

America laughed standing up before running away from the kitchen, Yelena screaming in Russian while going after her. Natasha shook her head taking a sip from the glass of juice she just poured for her. The day was getting old, the sun was already gone and the sky was changing into a darker version of blue, yet even with the drop of temperature and the sudden changed you and Wanda were still outside.

Natasha sighed.

Peace was so odd at times, but it was for moments like this that she lived for. With a final glance she turned around and went the living room her voice reaching out the two kids that were laughing and screaming on the second floor.

“America! Yelena! You have to prepare dinner!!”

You welcome the change in atmosphere from the confines of your room.

In the last couple of days, Natasha had done nothing more than babying you under the medical recommendations. It had been a necessary evil considering you were out of commission for over two weeks. Wanda listened carefully to your story, with each word her heart shrank making the very fibre of her emotions trembled under the possibility of you not surviving such an incident.

“It was really confusing at first, I woke up with everything hurting and in a hospital with Natasha and Yelena all over me,” you stopped walking turning to Wanda, your hand seeking out hers feeling the softness of her palm against yours, “I remembered right away that you probably were asking where I was and why I haven’t called at all.”

Wanda stiffened her eyes drifting away though her hand tightened lightly around yours.

“I just thought you would be busy, I knew you have your job and the occasional missions.” Wanda tried to downplay the turmoil she went through when you didn’t show on that first weekend, then the second one, and then the third one.

She was not ready to admit to you that she had been lost, and that the old insecurities came back to push her to the edge of feeling alone and not enough. You tilted your head taking a closer look to the young woman standing in front of you, observing how her lips tensed and her eyes refused to look at you directly; the way she kept a hold of your hand and the sudden softening of her voice told you all you needed to know at the moment.

“You know I would never walk away from you without telling you first, Wands.” You winced moving from one foot to the crutch on your right hand. “I never told anyone I was going over to Nepal to visit you because I didn’t want them snooping around in my things, I wanted this to be ours.”

There afternoon sun was fading away slowly, and the wind of the Tuscany region enveloped both of you in a warm embrace. Wanda lifted her free hand only to let it fall again, her eyes flickering to your face then to your lips and finally to your joined hands.

“I know.” She finally stated though her voice trembled, lacking the conviction your were looking for.

“Are you still doubting what is happening here, Wands?” You asked stepping a little closer, Wanda offered a weak smile shrugging.

“What is happening, Y/N? I’m still…You have come and go for over five months, and we have talked and we have shared amazing moments and still I am not sure as to where I stand eith you.” Wanda didn’t want to be so honest all of a sudden, she wasn’t looking to actually be honest and broke with such a tirade but the trip and the lack of sleep coupled with her worries about her own situation brought this over.

Your eyes dropped alongside your smile, your hand never let go of that of Wanda but you did tried to take a step closer. Wanda didn’t fight, instead she also came closer trying to get a hold of you to see if the questions she had would be answered.

“I thought everything had been clear, but I guess we never did talk about it clearly, did we?”

“Not really.” Wanda mumbled lifting her hand towards her hair, “I’m sorry I shouldn’t bring this over and…”

Wanda trailed off completely, her body stiffening when you leaned forward placing a peck at the corner of her lips. She could feel the heavy stare of someone watching them from the house, while you came at her without any shame or hesitation.

“I think I told you before, the same way you have told me, Wands. I don’t want this to be over without at least giving it a try.” You squeezed her hand offering a half smile, “I guess I wasn’t clear enough so, let me set the record straight and ensure there are no more doubts in you.”

Wanda opened her mouth to ask what exactly you mean by that, but at that moment the both of you heard Natasha calling out to you.

“Y/N!! Your medication! Now!”

You winced turning to see Natasha standing by the threshold, her hands on her hips and a knowing glare shot your way. Under that stare you understood Natasha had a second intention for the call out, you snorted turning to Wanda who had a glint of disappointment in her green eyes, you chuckled winking at her.

“Don’t worry, Little Witch, tomorrow we will have the house for ourselves and we can continue with this conversation.” You then nodded towards the house, “now let’s go, I really am feeling the pain kicking in and perhaps taking the medication won’t be as bad with you at my side.”

Wanda offered a half smile, her helped you out before taking a deep breath and speaking closer to your ear.

“You want me to play nurse?”

You almost fell down on your face, turning to the mischievous smirk she was now wearing. You chuckled nodding.

“I would like that very much, Little Witch, but Nats would probably kill you if we get sidetracked.”

Wanda snorted though whatever tension she had worn moments ago soon dissipated; she opened her mouth then closed again until she just shrugged turning to you.

“Well, we always have tomorrow, right? You did say we will have the house all for ourselves.”

Now, that comment hit you straight in your mind and core, and you couldn’t help but laugh while trying to cover up your flustered cheeks. Wanda sighed in relief, her doubts quieted down by your reassurance and the welcoming committee she had from your part, seeing you again had made her happy and Wanda soon realized there was no place on earth she would rather be as long as she was by your side.

Wanda just needed to let her last doubts aside to take a leap of faith and confessed this to you. There was nothing more she wanted that be yours for as long as you wanted her, and for you to be hers for as long as you allowed her to have you.

______________

You limped around the kitchen grabbing cups and bowls from the cabinets placing them carefully on the counter.

The music coming from your phone filled the silence in the kitchen, coffee was the very first thing you always prepared before anything else and the strong smell of the coffee was soon filling out the room. You limped to the fridge glancing around until you found the milk and the orange juice, putting them out you went to grab some of the strawberries almost falling on your face.

“You really love putting yourself in harm’s way, don’t you?” You chuckled feeling the arm around your waist making sure you were not hitting the floor, Wanda was smiling down at you helping you up on your feet.

“What can I say? I was just waiting for a cute hero to come and rescue me?” Wanda rolled her eyes but never lost her smile you grabbed the strawberries and then close the door.

“What were you doing?” Wanda finally asked looking around the kitchen then at you.

“Breakfast?” You tried limping towards the coffee maker, “I just thought I will make breakfast and then we can go into the city.”

Wanda tapped on the counter playfully, her smile just growing with her eyes following your every move.

“The city? You have plans for today?” Wanda leaned forward excitedly; you lifted your face blinking confusedly at Wanda.

“We have plans, Wands. You and Me.” You replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, Wanda tilted her head with her heart missing a beat at the sight of your grin.

“I…let me help you, I think it would be faster.” Wanda winked at you going to help with the fruit and the cereal.

You watched her out of the corner of your eyes, a shiver of pure pleasure and contentment went through your body and settled on your lower abdomen your heart twisting painfully your chest. You knew the moment you made the decision to go after Wanda that everything could turn out with the both of you, love had always been there but sometimes people needed more than love to build up a relationship.

The last couple of months you and Wanda had done just that, build a relationship that went beyond the initial passion and juvenile love you felt for one another. You chuckled when she put the bowl filled with cereal, milk and strawberries right in front of you before putting a chair closer so you could accommodate.

“I was supposed to be working on this and served you breakfast, you know?” You were about to stand up and go for your coffee but Wanda winked at you placing a mug filled with coffee.

“Black, two spoonful of sugars and, of course, enough coffee to kill you instead of waking you up.”

“Damn, you’re the best.” You were about to say something else but Wanda was faster than you and soon her lips when on yours giving you a soft kiss before stepping away. “Wha-what was that?”

“I like my breakfast with a kiss from you, I was getting use to it I just thought…” Wanda was losing her confidence as she started talking but whatever else she was going to say you took the chance to cut it out by another kiss.

“Shall we eat and then hit the road?” You asked putting a strand of hair behind Wanda’s ear.

“Yeah, yeah that sounds… nice.”

Ten years ago their relationship had been different.

It was filled with passion, sex was something you knew pretty well and took advantage of as a way to escape reality, a tool used for missions or in your leisure time. For Wanda it had been the first-time experimenting emotions and pleasure she had been forbidden to practice or to even think about during the war consuming her country. Your conversations had been everything, music and movies, books and hobbies, it had been an immature relationship that had meant the world to you.

Wanda taught you about being in love.

Your broken heart had bled for a very long time, not really understanding why after everything the both of you had shared it ended up with Wanda looking for comfort and love in another’s arms. With time, you understood why, and while you didn’t have to like the answer it was something you were trying to make peace with.

Now, ten years and some months later you stood right before the very same woman you had fallen in love within your teen years. Whatever love you held for her changed, and instead of diminished with time it slept until your paths crossed again and it grew into something different.

This time around your conversations were different and while passion was still present, it was not about the physical connection.

You found Wanda’s eyes across the room, her facial features completely relaxed wearing a soft smile while listening to the explanation done by the guide. You were sitting down on a bench brough specially for you, the discomfort on your leg had started almost ten minutes ago but you didn’t want to leave the city just yet, not when it was pretty obvious Wanda was happy.

“Where next?” Wanda asked slightly giddy, her eyes sweeping around the Piazza della Signoria admiring the architecture and the sculptures and the fountain of Neptuno.

It was a warm day, with sweet breeze and streets filled with people running around the busy streets of Florence’s downtown. The weather had been kind of warm accompanied by a sweet breeze that made it easier to walk around, the conversation was directed to meaningless subjects that brought laughter to Wanda with your heart missing a bet whenever you glance into her green eyes.

“Well, there is another place I want to show you but it is not the right time yet,” you watched at the time before turning to Wanda.

“Which place?”

“Oh, it is a surprised, Little Witch.” You winked at her taking her hand in yours, Wanda fixed her position so as to not bother the crutch and your leg.

“Okay, so far I have liked the surprises you have given me, so wherever you want to take me I’m all in.”

“Good then, next stop would be the Gardens Boboli.” You declared limping slowly towards the closest street leading to Ponte Vecchio and the Palazzo.

It was the moment the both of you stepped into the garden that you realized how well you knew Wanda.

She was completely stunned by the sight, her mouth hanged open and her eyes gleamed amazed by the architecture of the place. You smiled behind her, your heart skipping a beat under the charm of her smile and her stare. Wanda was standing right beside you forgetting about her doubts and her fears, and letting herself go enjoying the moments she had always dreamt to share with you.

You enjoyed taking her to new places, you heard her stories about being on the run while being completely lost and sometimes confined to a room or a place without the opportunity to enjoy the world out there. You always thought it was kind of sad, to be so afraid of what would happen to you if you showed yourself the way you were to not really enjoy what the world had to offer. One of the things you enjoyed the most was the expression on her face whenever you told her a new story or showed her a new place, it was a world of pure discovery and it told you exactly what you wanted and with whom you wanted to be with.

After eight hours of just walking and talking, spending most of the morning getting to visit the most important places in the historical Florence, you started feeling the pain in your leg and body. You concealed your pain taking deep breaths while limping heavily down the streets, Wanda stood by your side completely aware of your discomfort.

“Y/N, please I know you wanted to show me this place but…I mean, it can wait, you don’t look well.” She stood right before you, her free hand cupping your cheek with concern.

You winced trying to offer a smile but coming out with a grimace.

“I know, I know it’s just this is the best part.” You pouted letting out a huff while nodding to the hill that was just a few meters away.

“What can be so important that you’re risking this pain in your leg?” Wanda finally asked cleaning up some of the sweat in your forehead.

“You.” The answer came before you could stop it, but there was only honesty in your words.

Wanda stopped her movements locking her eyes with your, she felt her cheek colouring red while her lips curved into a tiny smile.

“You’re such a sweet talker.” She softened her tone, though the small frown of concern never left her features.

“Is it working?” You asked, Wanda snorted looking away.

“You know it is.” She finally said wrapping her arm around your waist and making sure to give you the much needed it support to hold your body.

“Good then, help me out and then I will do whatever you want.” You winked at Wanda who could merely rolled her eyes at your words.

“I will hold you to that.”

You chuckled holding back any exclamation of pain while walking the last few meters to the top.

“This, my dear Wanda is Piazza Michelangelo.” You presented the place with a flourish of your hand, your grin grew when you realized Wanda had been surprised by the sight.

She didn’t let go of your hand while stepping closer to the balcony, her head turned to you then back again before she caught sight of your grimace.

“This is beautiful.” She mumbled taking you to one of the steps overseeing the city.

“So, was it worth it?” You let go a breathy whimper, intertwining your hand with hers.

“It is worthy mostly because I’m with you.” Wanda confessed resting her head on your shoulder. “But I don’t think it will be enough to justify the pain you are going through at the moment.”

You snorted but said nothing else, for what seemed like hours the both of you sat in silence observing the buildings and the landscape that was Florence. The magnificence of the Duomo governing a city that had been the birthplace of the rebirth of mankind. You closed your eyes allowing the warm on Wanda’s hand to bring comfort to your heart.

“Yesterday you were questioning our relationship as of late.” You broke the silence, never taking your eyes from the city.

“I was just confused, and a little angry for not having heard from you in a while, Y/N.” Wanda started trying to explain her emotions. “These last months had been like a dream come true for me, I never thought I would be close to you again, or that we could be like this.”

“You never thought I would forgive you.” You stated, Wanda shook her head unable to answer to your words.

“I never thought I could forgive you, Wanda.” This time around Wanda lifted her head turning to face you, her hands on yours. “last year I finally understood many things about you and about me. I even got to understand our relationship and what exactly had happened to the both of us.”

The sound of muffled conversations filled the silence in between, you could see people laughing while enjoying their time together in such a place. The sun was starting to face, but the day was still far from over: to your left Wanda sat facing both the city and yourself, and you had to wonder if perhaps you were doing the right thing.

“When I started our visits I did so without any specific expectations,” you continued furrowing your brow, trying to have the conversation of your life with such a pain was not an easy task. “I thought it would be good for you and me to see where this really was going and if it was worth it.”

“And, is it?” Wanda inquired rather frightened by your answer.

You turned to her, your lips curving into a smile and your eyes gleaming with deep emotion.

“It is worth it, Wanda. I don’t want you to be alone anymore, and I don’t want to be away from you either.” You stated putting your hand in your pocket, Wanda held her breath when you pulled out a small box from it.

“What…” She remembered the box she opened all those months ago in which she discovered the plans you had made for your future with her. She was trembling by then, her heart almost leaving her chest and a horde of wild butterflies fluttering their winds inside her abdomen.

“It is not what you think it is, not yet anyway.” You lifted your free hand before opening lightly, inside was resting a single necklace made of white gold and a single Tourmaline stone matching Wanda’s eye.

“Why…I mean, what…” Wanda trailed off not really knowing what to say, you shrugged making sure you were putting it on her, your lips right beside her ear.

“With this necklace, Wanda, I want to promise myself to you.” Your whispered sent a shiver down her back, you sighed staying still gathering your strength to continue. “I don’t want to repeat the mistakes of the past, and I want to believe that second chances mean a new chapter in our lives. So, please accept this as an offering for you to be with me and, this time around, let’s just see where it gets us.”

You found yourself being hugged by her, your eyes were wide open and your arms stood rigid at your sides. You could feel the wetness on your neck, the sign of her tears and the soft whimpers leaving her lips while she poured her answer in the embrace. After a while, your own arms moved to return it, closing your eyes while enjoying the closeness of the woman you had fallen in love with all those years ago and had not stopped loving ever since.

When Wanda leaned back, you could see those green eyes twinkling with the same love she had always showed you, the same one that had changed over the years but instead of diminished had transformed itself and had mature enough to love and let herself be loved.

“I love you.” Wanda whispered those words without any fear of rejection, she finally let go of what she had been holding all this time, all the pain, and the suffering had broken and now all that stood before her was a future you were proposing. “I just love you, I can’t imagine anybody else by my side, I just can hope this time around I don’t disappoint you, or hut you, I don’t want to I…”

“Hey, that’s fine, one step at a time, okay?” Wanda nodded holding your hand, at that moment a sharp electrifying pain went through your leg and abdomen making you gasp clenching your eyes closed.

You had been trying to hide the fat your leg had been killing you for quite some time, the position you were in had not been ideal and after a while the pain became far too much. You hated this only broke the moment you were living with Wanda, the young witch was on top of you right away checking over your leg and your body with a concern look.

“What is it? Does it hurt too bad?”

“It’s nothing.” You grumbled clenching your fists, Wanda dropped her stare frowning at you.

“You look in pain,” Wanda grabbed your hand stepping closer to you while crunching up her nose, she was examining you. “You have been walking all day, of course you’re not okay.”

You tried to wave away her concern, trying to stand up only for your legs to feel weak all of a sudden. She was right on you to hold you up.

“I think I can… ugh…” You sat down closing your eyes for a moment, Wanda knelt beside you brushing your hair and cupping your cheeks.

“I think it is enough, I can carry you and we can go to the car,” Wanda checked you over trying to remember how far away from the parking lot the both of you were.

“N-no, that won’t be necessary, we still have a lot to visit and…” You tried to stand up but Wanda put a hand on your shoulder shaking her head.

“Don’t be stubborn, I can see it hurt you.” Wanda cupped your face in her hands, placing a kiss on your forehead. “Let me help you, please?”

She grabbed your hand in hers, her eyes pleading to you to stop your stubbornness. You closed one eye, the other one falling on the gemstone she was now wearing. With a grumbled, you nodded accepting her help.

“Okay, we can go home…I don’t have energy to take us there, but I can take us to the car.”

“Are you sure? I think I can help you out and we can make our way over there.” Wanda continued brushing your hair away and wiping your forehead.

“Yeah, it is close enough for me, and I don’t think I can actually walk.” You replied sheepishly, Wanda rolled her eyes already knowing you would act the tough act until you really felt helpless.

With a flicker of your hand and her help, the both of you crossed the shadows until you ended up right in front of the car. After that, the ride home was done in relatively silence, your pain increasing as the time passed by. Wanda couldn’t help but sent worried glances your way, her hand on yours trying to calm you down by distracting you with stories or questions you were ready to answer.

The Villa was still empty, Natasha had gone into the city on some sort of mission, and Yelena and America had left earlier without giving any sort of explanation. You grabbed Wanda tightly, almost falling on your face when another jolt of electricity went through your body.

“Sorry.” You mumbled; Wanda shook her head making sure you rest comfortably on your bed. “We were having a good moment, and I really wanted it to be more romantic, the sort of moment in which I will clear up your doubts but…”

Wanda sat facing you, her hands making quick work on your shirt and pants, her fingertips moving delicately with the frown still in place. You grabbed her hand in yours kissing her before helping her out in the process of getting you into more comfortable clothes.

“You don’t have to be sorry for that, I enjoyed our time together and we still have time for a conversation.” Wanda replied making sure you were quite comfortable on the bed.

“I don’t want you to think I left because I preferred the mission, or because I didn’t want to be anymore, you know?” You were breathing hard by then, the injury on your leg had been bad enough to let you feel useless while having one of those attacks.

“I know.”

“I was enjoying our little meetings; I think we never got a chance to do what we did on them.” This time around you smiled feeling the softness of a cotton towel on your face, fresh water touched your lips and you welcome the beverage while also trying to swallow the pills Wanda placed on your hand.

“I enjoyed them as well, I was afraid you have grown tired of me, that perhaps you had finally gotten what you wanted it before leaving.” Wanda confessed finally sitting down at your side, her hand on yours.

You shook your head putting her hand to your lips, the heavy doses of the pills alongside with the tiredness of the day was catching up with you.

“Thank you for coming here, and for not turning me away, Little Witch.”

Wanda softened lightly she leaning in placing a kiss on your forehead.

“Don’t mention it, Love, I’m here.” The endearing term slipped her lips without noticing, you gave her a quick stare before smiling. “Let me give you the last pill and then I leave you to rest.”

You frowned shaking your head grabbing her hand, “no, please just…”

“Y/N you need to take the medication,” Wanda started but you cut it off shaking your head.

“No, I mean, don’t go.” You took a deep breath, your voice coming on short gasps, “Stay with me, please? I want to be with you.”

Wanda felt the warm on her cheeks, she broke into a timid smile that didn’t go away walking around your room grabbing the last of the pills before placing it on your tongue. You drank more water shifting slightly to leave an open space for the other woman.

With some hesitation, Wanda took her shoes off and her jeans, she grabbed a pair of shorts and then went right in with you on the bed. Wanda stayed still her back resting on the pillows chewing on her lips until you snuggled closer to her.

“You don’t have to be so tense; you know?” You closed your eyes, a playful smile on your lips. “I am not in the right physical state to offer you some interesting games to help you relax but I am not against them if it helps.”

“Y/N! I thought you were sleepy?” Wanda shifted her body to welcoming you in her arms, you chuckled observing her red cheeks and dilated pupils.

“I am but you were just so tense, let me just rest for a while and I promise you later on I will bite if that’s what you need.”

Wanda rolled her eyes finding adorable your chuckled and your expression just as you started falling asleep. She let her fingertips caress your head, while she too close her eyes.

This was all that she needed it.

This was all the comfort she was seeking out.

A day ago, she had been mad, but most of all, she had been heartbroken believing herself a fool for ever thinking you could forgive her past sins. Or for even entertained the idea you would want her back in your life, now she was just lying there with you in her arms, fast asleep and a necklace that sealed a promise between the both of you.

With a whispered, ‘I love you’, from her part Wanda too fall asleep with the same content smile you were wearing in your sleep.

_____________________________________________________________

Next Chapter: Reader and Wanda have some fun together, Natasha comes with news and Yelena and America had started a new secret group everyone knows about but they like the ilussion of secrecy. Reader and Wanda have stop running and as time passes they finally take one last step towards happiness.

#fanfic #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wandaxreader #female reader #imagine wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x female reader

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mr-ys-phantasma · 1 month ago

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🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Chapter 1. - Chapter 2. - Chapter 3

Chapter 4. - Chapter 5. - Chapter 6

Chapter 7. - Chapter 8. - Chapter 9

Chapter 10. - Chapter 11. - Chapter 12

Chapter 13. - Chapter 14. - Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Word Count: 1708

Chapter 16:

Once again, and as it was expected, arguments soon rose between the coven members. Yet through those arguments, confessions quickly came to light.

Like the fact that Alice recognised those markings, and was forced to expose one of her deepest secrets.

"I thought it was me, that it's my fault that I can't keep a job, that everything I touch turns to shit, that I couldn't save her" she confessed, refusing to meet any of your gazes. "I convinced myself they were birthmarks. Even though she had the same ones"

Jen seemed to connect the dots the fastest. "Wait, are we talking about a generational curse?"

You held back a groan the best you could, and all that was heard from you was a forced sigh.

Generational curses were the worst of the curses and you had been lucky to avoid them in your prolonged life. They were almost impossible to break, their bases so dark it was almost supernatural in terms of power.

While the tensions between the group intensified, you felt a sharp acute pain coming from both your shoulders.

With a loud gasp, you leaned forward; eyes wide open as you felt as if someone had touched a torch right on your skin.

You could not help but hiss and close your eyes momentarily, trying not to let this pain make you lose focus or have you on the ground.

Once was enough, your pride was not going to let you fall victim to it again; let alone let it make you kneel.

"Fuck" you cursed as you opened your eyes, pressing your teeth against one another and watched Alice rush your way.

To her surprise, you lifted your hand and motioned for her not to approach; confusing them group. Mastering all the self-control you had, you brought your free hand, placed it on the shoulder burning the most, and started to chant something under your breath.

White magic was barely noticeable beneath your hand, but a few seconds after, you constantly repeated some sort of mantra; you felt free of the pain, and you could breathe again.

Panting faintly, you looked at your audience; only two were not utterly surprised by your actions. The rest were both curious and slightly suspicious.

"How did you do that?" Alice asked, not expecting to have another protection witch in the group.

"Anti-curse spell. Works on the caster only, " you explained, not daring to check your skin for any marks.

You would deal with them later, when you would be free of any trial related danger.

Jen narrowed her eyes. "An anti-curse spell powerful enough to keep away a generational curse?" She asked rhetorically, clearly not believing you.

You had been honest on that part, feeling no need to lie. You had to give it to Jen for not settling for the breadcrumbs you had just given them.

However, now it was not the time to go into depth how you made such spell work.

Thankfully for you, the trial or the curse were furious with your little trick and chose to attack a different coven member... Teen.

Though this time, there was no burning sensation or anything mystical.

No, this time, something invisible hit the boy with so much force; it sent him flying.

You gasped and placed your hands in front of your mouth as you saw Teen being thrown mid air, smashing through the two way mirror glass of the recording booth and landing outside; right in the control room.

Everyone rushed to check on him, fearing for the worst after such attack; none questioning why the boy was attacked differently than the rest.

Thankfully, Teen was alright or at least not critically injured. He was even smiling faintly as he noticed almost everyone surrounding him; Jen having chosen to stay in the protective circle.

"Hey." He greeted weakly. "I got attacked by the curse. Does that mean I'm part of the coven?"

His innocent question made you smile faintly, relieved that he was okay. You slowly helped him to stand up, carefully ensuring he would not collapse any moment now.

"Blessings and burdens alike." You told him, seeing his naive little smile growing.

As you all gathered back in the recording booth, you started to discuss how to deal with this curse; the time on the metronome continuing ticking but this time you didn't know just how much Time you had been left.

In the end, by inspecting the broken record; a solution was found. Since the curse came from the record played backwards, the only way to battle it is to play the song normally.

Ironically, the song was none other than the Ballad of the Witches Road; sang by none other than Alice's mother, Lorna Wu.

Also, the genius mind of Agatha made the ultimate deduction.

"What did Lorna want from The Road? What was her intention? To save her daughter. You should have burnt to a crisp years ago, but here you are. Sullen and aimless, but alive. That's because at any given moment somewhere, someone is playing that song that you hate so much. Lorna's Ballad is a protection spell. It protected you."

Agatha's words seemed to bypass any of Alice's defenses, trying to win her over and give her the courage to play the song. Every member of the coven had to participate and since that trial was related to her mother, Alice was the centre of it all.

At Agatha's words, you could not help but glance to the ground momentarily. Hearing of Lorna's love for her daughter, going as far as to create a song spell to save her daughter... it made your heart ache.

You barely knew your mother, anything about her a distant and blurry memory at the very back of your mind. At least your birth mother, that is.

You did not have a motherly figure in your life, many witches doing the bare minimum to help you, but none wished to get attached to you; even though you were a little orphan girl.

Perhaps this was what had attracted you to Agatha in the first place. Being older than you and actually interested in being part of your life, had made you form an incredible bond with her; even if someone might argue this bond was one way.

Sometimes, though, you did wish to know more.

To know if this woman you had called your mother as a child, ghe very same one tht had chosen to look after and raise you, would have done something similar to protect you, rather than leaving through the door one morning and letting you wake up alone to an empty house.

You had never managed to find her again, and as for your birth mother, you had done a lot of research and got some answere; though you wouldn't mind to know more.

However, you feared it would not be possible; not with your situation.

Feeling a pair of eyes, you dared to search for them; only to see Agatha studying you. It was her turn to read through your fake mask and read your intentions, the topic of a mother hard to both of you; for different reasons.

Trying to look the other way, you were caught by Rio. She seemed to be intensely staring at you, though her gaze was soft; and you could swear you saw something that looked like sympathy or even regret.

"So," you cleared your throat. "Who plays what?" You asked, hoping to change the topic and also remind everyone that the metronome was still ticking.

"Okay, who's good on piano? Lilia?" Agatha asked, driving to take the lead since no one else was willing to do so.

"No. No, I studied the zils." The older witch argued. "And a little pan flute."

Defeated, Agatha turned to the other witch. "Jen."

"Ballet."

"Oh, come on, guys!" She groaned, not believing they were in such situation.

Their lives were depending on a stupid song, and no one seemed to have any music experience.

"I play guitar. Sort of." Teen informed a little shyly.

You chose to join. "I also do"

Your words made Agatha stare at you with an arched eyebrow. Her expression was literally screaming 'since when?'

You offered her a plain simple smile, unable to explain to her that you learnt Guitar during a difficult new moon; and then you kept it as a hobby.

Agatha did not comment about it but you could see the twinkle of interest in her blue eyes. When all of this was done and you had reached the end of the road, she would definitely ask you more about it; perhaps even make you play something for her.

Definitely not the Ballad of the Witches Road.

After some discussion that almost led to a argument between Jen and Agatha; you all found your respective instruments.

Rio had the drums, Alice the piano, Jen the Bass, Lilia the Zils (surprising everyone such instrtument was present) and you with Teen had the guitars.

"I am not sure how well I can play this" the boy confesed to you in a hushed tone as he fixed his grip on the instrument.

You both stood side by side.

"It's not a hard one. If you get stuck, follow my lead" you reassured him, a small smile just enough to make him relax a little bit.

He did and offered a small smile in return while trying to fix the guitar strap, all while doing the best to ignore the sharp pain coming from the side of hid abdomen.

Then, you did not notice it and failed to see that his landing was not as smooth or harmless as you thought it was.

Once everyone was ready, the lightning in the room changed and slowly you started to play the beat of the Ballad.

Agatha stood in the middle, right in front of the microphone and yet before she could truly start singing; the curse attacked her too.

"Agatha!" You and Teen exclaimed, almost rushing to her side.

"Keep playing!" She hissed, having bent one knee and supporting herself on the mike stand. "Keep playing!"

Left with no choice, you all focused on the rhythm as Agatha started to sing.

Chapter 17

#agatha all along #longest chapter yet #more clues about the reader #agatha harkness #agatha spoilers #agatha fanfic #agatha x reader #agatha harkness x reader #moon phases fanfic #marvel

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starryevermore · 8 months ago

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the house of snow (13) ✧ coriolanus snow

the house of snow ✧ a royal coryo au | pinterest board| ao3

pairing: king!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

series summary: the king of panem is in search of a bride. and, for reasons you can never understand, coriolanus snow has set his sights on you. it would never be a happy marriage, you’re sure of that. but none of that matters, because when snow decides he wants something, he will do everything in his power to ensure it is his.

chapter summary: coriolanus doesn’t understand why you've shut him out.

word count: 1,878

series warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, royal au, regency au, arranged marriage, rivals to lovers, obsessive!coryo, jealous!coryo, protective!coryo, eventual smut, eventual pregnancy, more tags to be added later

chapter warnings?: coryo’s pov, a shorter chapter rip, coriolanus the cat is a menace™, pet name (petal), not proofread

Coriolanus Snow could not even begin to understand you. Where had he gone wrong? In the days leading up to the wedding, you were so affectionate with him. It felt like the difficult part of this was finally over. Sejanus, his only real competition, was long gone. You were finally calling him Coryo. You spent time with him without complaint and, dare he say it, even seemed to enjoy his company. Yet, it all came crashing down so quickly, so suddenly.

What had happened last night? Coriolanus spent the entire night wracking his brain, going through each part meticulously, trying to determine where he went wrong. Had he missed some sign that you were uncomfortable? Had he unintentionally pressured you? What had he done to deserve the cold look you gave him? For you to accuse him of only caring about himself? Coriolanus couldn’t deny that he could be a selfish man, but for you? Did you not realize the lengths he would go to, to make you happy?

When morning came, you said hardly a word to him. The most he heard of your voice was when you were speaking to your lady’s maid, telling her of any questions you needed answered about the trip to the cottage. Coriolanus nearly lost his temper then. What had he done that was so wrong, so hurtful, that you were cutting yourself off from him? He had half a mind to bring up the agreement made during your courtship, about how you would behave, but he thought better of it. You never responded well to his attempted pressuring. To do so now might push you away. Might irreparably damage this relationship.

Now he sat across from you in the carriage, traveling through the countryside, still just as clueless about what he should do. Worse yet, every time he attempted to speak, that damned Coriolanus the Cat hissed at him from its perch on your lap.

“The cottage has a library,” he tried, hiding his flinch as the cat swatted its paw at him. “Not nearly as impressive as the one in the palace, of course, but I believe it should be satisfactory during our stay.”

Finally, finally, you looked over at him. Your eyes were blank, completely void of emotion. Your voice was the same when you said, “Placating me with a library worked once. I will not allow it to work again.”

Then you turned back to the window, watching as the flat lands of the Capital swooped into rolling hills. Coriolanus the Cat hissed at him again, as if it was in agreement with you.

“Petal, tell me what I’ve done wrong. I don’t wish for this to be an unhappy marriage. I…” He swallowed thickly. This would pain him far more to say than it would for you to hear. “I would be alright if you never love me the way I love you. But I don’t want you to think that this is a political affair. Or that I care more for Panem or the want of an heir more than I do you.”

You stared at him for a long moment. It almost felt like hours. Coriolanus wanted to say more, but he fought against his instincts. If anything could be repaired from this relationship, he could not force you into it.

“How long until we arrive at the cottage?”

“Three hours, assuming there are no delays.”

“Very well then.”

You plucked a book from the stack beside you. Coriolanus should have known you wouldn’t want to speak to him when he watched as a half dozen books were placed in the carriage.

You didn’t say anything to him again.

He should have known that bringing up the possibility of a delay would, in fact, cause a delay to occur. When the dark gray clouds began to dot the sky, Coriolanus had hoped that the storm would pass by. But with each rumble of thunder and flash of lightning, it became more and more obvious that luck was not going to be on his side. Even nature was turning its back on him. Finally, the coachman announced that it would no longer be safe for the horses and that he would be stopping at the next available inn.

The cat hissed at Coriolanus as if he was the one to cause the storm.

Coriolanus stepped out of the carriage first, his nose wrinkling as he stepped straight into a mud puddle. Was the entire universe against him now? Could he not even have a nice, clean pair of shoes? He bit back his disgust as he reached for your hand. Admittedly, he was surprised you took it, allowing him to lift you out of the carriage and far away from that damned puddle.

“Coriolanus hates the rain,” you said, reaching out for the cat.

“Yes, I do,” he muttered. He took the cat before you could, not wanting you to get scratched up by the beast. Coriolanus pulled back his damp jacket and tucked the cat inside, careful to make sure not a single droplet of water hit it. The cat hissed and clawed still, not impressed by Coriolanus’s attempts to keep it (mostly) dry. Once secured, Coriolanus reached for your hand again. You didn’t shake him off. “Come, let’s get inside before we get sick.”

The innkeeper was already waiting with a bundle of towels when Coriolanus led you inside. Coriolanus passed one to you, before taking another to dry off the hissing beast. The innkeeper flinched, but held his own tongue lest he offend his King or Queen. Coriolanus nearly laughed at the idea of you chewing the man out for offending your precious beast of a baby. Once the cat was bundled and in your arms, Coriolanus took a towel for himself.

“I apologize, Your Majesty,” the innkeeper began to say, “but there is only one available room left for tonight. Had I known that you would be stopping in, I would have made sure there would be plenty of room for your staff. Unfortunately, all that is left beyond that room is the stables.”

So Coriolanus would be sleeping in the stables tonight. Wonderful. He just hoped you would be gracious enough to wait until after the innkeeper was gone to kick him out of the room and reveal the already apparent marital problems.

“That will be quite alright,” Coriolanus said. It wasn’t. But part of being King was knowing when to play the part of a courteous monarch. “If you could please show us our room, that would be most appreciated.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” the innkeeper said. Then he turned his gaze to you and bowed his head. “And if I may, congratulations on your nuptials.”

Coriolanus half-expected you to spit in his face for mentioning your marriage. Instead, though, you offered a smile. “Thank you. And thank you for being so accommodating to us.”

“It is my honor, Your Majesty. Now, if you’ll follow me.”

The entire walk up to the room, Coriolanus braced himself to be thrown out. Even as the footman followed behind, carrying a trunk with his belongings, he nearly said to not bother. He was sure that, within a few minutes, you would be demanding a room alone. He could only hope that you would be kind enough to minimize the embarrassment.

Yet, when he found himself alone in the room with you, you did not make any demands, save for asking Coriolanus to help you out of your gown. He undid the fastenings, but turned away when you stepped out of the gown and into a nightdress you plucked from the trunk.

Fine. If you weren’t going to make the demand yourself, he would go. “I shall see you in the morning, petal,” he said.

You turned, but where he expected your brows to be furrowed, your face was blank. “You think you are to sleep in the stables?”

What game were you playing? Last night, you couldn’t get away from him fast enough. But today, you are confused as to why he might leave? “After last night, I thought you would want some privacy.”

You looked out the window, at the torrential downpour and at the stables that felt like a million miles away. “I am not cruel, Coryo.”

Not like me, he finished. Instead, he said, “I don’t understand you.”

“I believe part of your agreement was that I refrain from causing any scenes. I can think of no greater scandal than me throwing you out to spend the night with livestock the day after our wedding.”

“There is no one here to spread a scandal.”

You rolled your eyes. “Much of our staff is here, as is the innkeeper. They talk as much as the ton. If I make you sleep in the stables, by the time we return from our honeymoon, the Capital will be in disarray that the seeming lovebirds are already on the outs. Whether they blame you or I, I cannot say for certain. But it would ruin the public perception of us.”

Coriolanus was proud that you had thought these things through, but part of him nonetheless ached over you allowing him into your bed only so as to avoid scandal, not because you enjoyed his presence.

With nothing more to say, you climbed into the bed, laying down as close to the edge as you could manage without falling to the floor. Coriolanus let out a sigh and then, too, got ready for bed. Once dressed in his nightclothes, he crawled into bed. You shuffled even closer to the edge. He worried that you might fall if you moved any further away.

Was he truly so repulsive that you’d rather risk falling to the floor than share a bed with him?

And though he knew better, he still reached for you. All he wanted was to hold you. He had been deprived of that last night, deprived of the ability to tell you how wonderful you are, how he enjoyed being your husband. A part of him hoped that the forced proximity might make you more willing to be held.

You pushed his hand away. “Not tonight, please.”

“Petal…”

“I shall fulfill my duty some other time. Today has been too stressful.”

“You are more than a duty. And I want more from you than that. I want your love, but if you can’t give me that, can’t I at least hold you?”

You started to move, and, for a moment, Coriolanus thought you might burrow yourself in his arms. But instead, you picked up that damned cat from the floor and dropped it between the two of you. “Hold your son.”

Coriolanus the Cat hissed at him. Coriolanus (the human) had half a mind to hiss back. Instead, he rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling, wishing for sleep to come.

It never did.

Not with the beast looking at him like he was a meal. Not with his wife acting like this is all a transactional affair. And certainly not when, some minutes had passed and you allowed yourself to cry, perhaps taking his stillness as a sign he had gone to sleep.

Oh, where had he gone wrong?

#the house of snow: a royal coryo au #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus snow x female reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x y/n #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fan fiction #coriolanus snow fanfic #coriolanus snow fan fic #coriolanus snow fic #starrywrites #starryevermore

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sweetestbasil · 10 months ago

Text

RUBATOSIS || chapter one: self digestion

PAIRING : Dr.Gaul's Assistant!Coriolanus Snow x Experiment!Reader-Insert ( afab, they / them, sometimes it )

RATING : 18+ ( no smut in this chapter, but it's very unsettling )

WORD COUNT : 13, 776

WARNINGS : infidelity ( coryo's engaged to livia ), power imbalance, unreliable narrator ( it's 3rd POV but focuses on coryo's view ), unhealthy dynamics, dehumanizing language, medical experimentation, body examination that has... strange vibes, body horror-esque, coryo and gaul are messed up in this fic, he's more like his book version than movie

SUMMARY : 🙶 rubatosis - noun. the unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat 🙷

Fortune, marriage, and success - all within the hands of Coriolanus Snow, and it still isn’t enough to satisfy him. Tigris has grown distant and Livia is far more trouble than it's worth.

Dr. Gaul has just the solution for him.

A/N : This is my first time posting my fanfic work on tumblr, so I hope everyone has fun reading this. If there are any mistakes, lemme know. This is the first of five chapters!

[ If you want to read it on AO3 instead ]

self digestion || autolysis - stage one of decomposition

Oh, he hated this.

He absolutely despised this.

A click of the soles, stepping against the freshly clean sidewalk, rid of any possible careless litter and debris. Had it not been for others who, too, were using the same path, even if they were going in opposite directions, had he half a mind, Coriolanus would have taken the moment to prop himself against a wall and let out the loudest sound of frustration. It wouldn’t be unwarranted, it wouldn’t be uncalled for. Dare he say, he almost feels he should be entitled to it. It had only been four days, but four days should have been enough time for Tigris to get back to him already. The correspondence was not even something of dire content, at least, Coriolanus imagined so. Questions of Grandma’am, if her time with Mrs. Plinth ( he was not going to refer to her as ‘Ma Plinth’ ) had been going well, how was the solo business venture regarding Tigris’s fashion going, was there any renovations that the home needed, how were they — things that he assumed, wrongly he guessed, that would be so simple to answer.

God forbid that he still had the decency to still check in with his family even after he long moved out into his own place.

If Tigris thought she could play him for a fool, she was the one in the wrong; the signs were as clear as can be, that Tigris was trying to ice him out as much as she could. And after all he’s worked hard for? Fixing the home up, making sure the fridge never stays empty, stabilizing the family. He’s even gotten engaged before Grandma’am could even croak, and is letting Tigris design his fiancé’s wedding gown! What else was he supposed to do to try and gain back her warmth? Dance and clap like a District to make himself seem smaller, more dumb, to please her? There was a lock to his jaw, a small grit in Coriolanus’s teeth, as he sipped down the coffee in his hand, the other in his coat pocket.

He didn’t even wish to broach the idea of his fiancé on his walk to the Citadel. The heavy breath, a sigh, that breached itself out his lips. A hand raised to rub a gloved thumb briefly at the bridge of his nose.

Ugh, Livia… It was a pain to even internally taste the words of her name on his tongue.

It was an arranged marriage of convenience that he sought after, an extra piggy bank that he could expend on; and how quickly the elder Cardews lapped up at his palm when he planted the idea of marrying their daughter. A man who was of the old guard elite families, an assistant of Dr. Gaul’s, inheritor of the Plinth’s fortune, a gamemaker in training? They were downright salivating, that he almost felt embarrassed for Livia having to witness her parents’ stripped to their barest of greeds. The keyword being almost. Coriolanus needed to play his cards right to ensure his future, it was only fair game. If that meant taking his chance with the Cardews’ and their banks, he’d be just the fool that Tigris would want him to be if he turned them away. But, he could reluctantly suppose that the arrangement could be considered an equal drain on both parties. He seized their assets and their daughter seized up his free time. How could he forget the fundraiser dinner that Livia had invited them both to later on in the evening? She was delightful enough to remind him of it while they shared breakfast together, between his bites of quiche so that he couldn’t show a hint of a frown.

Coriolanus sucked in a careful breath between his teeth.

If she could only put herself to better use than just the one redeeming quality of a socialite. There was a slim chance he may have miscalculated. Perhaps it would have been an easier time, having something set up with Clemensia, or Lysistrata.

“Mr. Snow! Good morning and welcome back, Dr. Gaul is already waiting for you in—“

“In Lab H05, got it! And a good morning to you, too.” He smiled back effortlessly to the front desk worker, giving them a wave and just the right, charming amount of teeth with the upwards pull of his mouth.

Entering into the Citadel and seeing the hive of workers shift from one place to another in constant movement; they all tried to keep their voices at a low volume, but there was a constant buzz in the air, as they went from one hall to the other. Coriolanus maneuvered himself around them, slipping his deep mahogany overcoat seamlessly folded across his forearm. Full-Grain leather gloves that kept him warm from the cold, taken off his hands and instead placed neatly into the pocket of his overcoat. What a marvel it would have been for his young, naïve self to bear witness the luxury of a full wardrobe he now had. Never again did he have to spend long nights studying for the Academy besides an equally tired Tigris, who busied herself with trimming down the sizes of his father’s discarded shirts to fit him for school the next day.

It was a muscle memory at this point, the path to one of the many labs that Dr. Gaul had established her practice in. She had told Coriolanus that she had a lab for each different study and project she was passionate towards, ones that were more… presentable, to the average Capital citizen, and ones that were more uncensored. Having worked for over a year under Dr. Gaul’s tutelage, Coriolanus had seen a decent amount, the clean and the vile, but even then, he knew very well he had not seen all. He wasn’t even sure if he did want to see all. Especially regarding what happened last time he wandered around the Citadel during Academy days. The doors to Lab H05 were wide open, Coriolanus noted, seeing it in his line of sight, getting closer and closer. It was inviting, telling any worker to come in and step in at any time ( should Dr. Gaul be around ).

The air here was entirely different from what it was in the hallway. Where the air from when he first entered had been warm, inviting from the nipping cold outside. The vague smell of coffee, and an even fainter scent of something chemical, had mingled and intertwined to give the vaguest illusion that the Citadel could pass for a workplace like any other. However, the lab was as if entering an entirely different building. The lights that shone uncomfortably glaring, fluorescent lights that were hung overhead, on the ceiling. There were small lights, embedded into the floors and columns as well, guiding the path to any who walked in. It drowned the large room in an almost blue light. Lab H05 was one of the “clean” labs. A sterile scent in the air, the chemicals that were so faint in the halls were far more prominent, evident here. But, to the trained nose, there was something faint here too. The rusted scent of iron tickled under Coriolanus’s nose, but it barely registered to him anymore as anything concerning. Seeing the endless shelves of… odd specimens, the scent of blood was the last thing that should ever scare him away.

“Dr. Gaul, good morning,” He kept a steady tone, not one that sounded tired, nor too joyous. Being seen as her “favorite” didn’t mean he could speak to her as casually as he pleased. It just meant that he took her current attention. A fickle thing that could be stripped away at any moment if he showed any less than acceptable.

“Coryo,” He tensed his shoulders the same time she breathed it out in loving fashion. Her back once facing him, now turned as she walks towards him to cut the distance between the two. Since the gap started to form between Tigris and him, Dr. Gaul had taken to using that nickname on him. If it was to be used in terms of endearing him to her, or to mock him with the name that ghosts had called him, none could say for sure.

Coriolanus liked to believe it to be both, if he believed his assumptions of her character were right.

He never once let his eyes leave contact with her own, but he could hear the movement of her prominent, red latex gloves being peeled off her hands. She always thought it to be ironic, to wear such a color despite her profession. It matched the dye job that she had done on her surgical gown. He felt the weight of hands touching either side of his forearms, the smile on Dr. Gaul’s face caused a crinkle in her eyes as she bared all teeth in her smile. He wondered if she knew how threatening her grin looked.

“A morning to you as well. Has it been treating you good?”

It felt as if some sort of warm feeling was spreading out from Dr. Gaul’s hands, through his arms and into his body. What a disgusting sensation, it made goosebumps rise on his skin.

“As well as it could be.” Coriolanus’s voice spoke softly.

Livia drained his energy far more than he expected with her morning rambles and gossip.

Dr. Gaul’s hands smacked against his arms in a laugh, loud and knowing, she always knew, turning around to walk deeper in the lab. “Hah! By the sounds of it, it seems you’re not getting some peace of mind when you head home,” She turned back to look at him, giving him a glance, she was prying something out of him. “That’s no good, Coryo. You need to be in top shape to work, I can’t have my assistant become so… drained.”

The crease in her eyes showed again.

“If this is your preferred state, there is a new species of leeches I am working on. I assure you it is far more efficient than a Cardew of species.”

Well, now it was his turn to laugh.

A dry chuckle that slipped from Coriolanus’s lips, moving to follow Dr. Gaul. Placing his coat on a table made of rich wood, something less… aseptic looking. There were moments where he often froze under the woman’s gaze; a humiliating, bodily reaction that made him feel so small, so vulnerable as he used to be. Yet, it was in times like these, where he could understand how Dr. Gaul still managed to hold sway over people besides just exemplary displays of fear and power. There was a sense of humor to her, if he could call it that, where if a powerful woman like her involved yourself in - you felt so included, special.

“It was nothing like that. Livia just reminded me that after work today, she and I have to attend dinner later in the evening. It’s a fundraiser for the improvement and reconstruction of the Corso.” He turned his sight away from Dr. Gaul’s eyes, not being able to keep the contact any more. Flicking to the sight of the endless, bright shelves that lit up the tubes containing various specimens and experiments. Some failures, some on pauses, some successes, and some were just creative ‘what-ifs’; that would explain some of the seemingly useless fusions, like the jellyfish that had spider legs mixed in with some of its natural lappets, now encased in a resin tube. Coriolanus can’t recall if he was employed at the Citadel yet when this specimen was made. His fingers briefly touched upon the cool glass of it. What a disgusting idea. “I almost nearly forgot about it.” Dr. Gaul hummed at his response.

“Why, doesn’t that sound riveting! What a joy young life is, flitting from one function to the other, all the night-time glamor. You know, before I was transferred to work in the Citadel, I was the same. I thought of giving my children some of my old wardrobe from my youth, but it’s so out of the current trends, it just collects dust now.” What a blessing, for her kids. They could avoid the embarrassment of coming into the room looking as if they robbed the Pre-Dark Days exhibit at the Capital’s museum. The heels of Dr. Gaul’s heels clicked against the smooth, waxed floor. Coriolanus could feel the brief sliver of her heavy presence pass him by from behind, as she went to head over to another area in the room. It sounded vaguely close to the center of it.

“You must be excited, Coryo. Are you going to wear,” Her words paused. She was tasting the air for something. “Ah, what’s her name… That cousin of yours, the one who started her new business a while ago.”

What was the point of this conversation?

“Tigris.”

A brief flare tickled behind his ribs, reminding him of his thoughts earlier before. Standing up from his spot, fingers now leaving the glass of the odd ( sickening ) creature, his prints left slightly behind on the glass. Stretching his shoulders back with his arms, muscles pulled, away from their previously hunched position. Coriolanus walked over to where Dr. Gaul was, who stood nearby another table at the center of the lab. This time, this one was far cleaner, made of what seemed to be a material of stainless steel. In her hands she carried a manila folder, or two, in her hands; her painted nails sifted through the papers carefully. She was writing something quickly down inside of it. He wanted to know, but he held his tongue. Gaul would tell him if it was something he needed to be aware of.

“And I’m not sure. Livia is still picking out her dress and I want to match with her.” He smiled at her.

“Aren’t you a romantic,” She gives him a look out of the corner of her eye, the blue one that matched his. It made his skin crawl, he hated the feeling of it. “Is your heart melting, Snow?”

Coriolanus hopes she sticks to her career as a Gamemaker, being a comedian looks like a bleak future for her.

The smile on his lips grew wider, a small laugh at her words, his hand reaching to cover his mouth slightly to muffle the sound in the large room.

“I wouldn’t say that just yet.”

He wouldn’t say it at all. Livia? Melt his heart? Sure, she could melt his eardrums when she had that obnoxious snort to her loud laughs. It made her sound like a pig, shipped straight to the Capital from the farms of District 10. That would defeat the purpose of why he married her in the first place. It would be the utmost betrayal to himself, after he had promised to close himself after–

“Since you have a date tonight,” His ears perked up immediately. “I’ll reduce the amount of work you have for today, I’ll be merciful.” He wouldn’t argue if she decided to give him more. She pressed a manila folder into his open hands, her grip was tight on it. This was a folder that not many eyes needed to be on. Taking it carefully from her hands, he raised it to his eyesight curiously, catching the sight of the project name written on top of it.

PROJECT: CAPTIVE – A.01 PROMETHEUS

Coriolanus brought his gaze back towards Dr. Gaul. He assumed he slipped a confused gaze at her, because before he could even ask her, she’s already speaking up:

“This is a project I had started around the time you were exiled in District 12.”

His jaw slightly tightened. She didn’t have to use that exact word to describe it.

“It’s far more… unique,” Her eyes rolled around the room as she sought out the word, the moment it landed on her tongue, she locked her sight immediately onto him. Gaul’s smile pulled a bit more at her cheeks, a festering excitement that was slipping out from her internal confines. The threat of teeth in her smile was no longer an attempt of niceties, but far more sinister in its intentions. Coriolanus would argue on a good day that both were the same, that Dr. Gaul’s cruelty was her being kind. “Than my other projects. Far more different than any of my other muttations, this is a beast of a different breed, but one that you and I know intimately well.”

So this was a human experimentation, Coriolanus deduced.

Dr. Gaul would never dare to refer to those below Capital ranks as something human, there was always something else she had to refer to them by. Animal, beast, plague, insect, if it stripped them of their humanity, she was eager to take it. They shared similar sentiments, but sometimes, he had to give them some form of distinct name to separate them. “I’ve actually grown quite fond of it. Usually, I’d handle its tests and exams, but you seem like you need a pick-me-up.”

It should make him disgusted at how easily she could see through him.

The older woman stepped further away from him, into one of the dark recesses of the room. Lab H05 was one of the main center labs within the Citadel, meaning it earned itself the privilege to have its layout be connected to other rooms, outside areas, halls, and the like. It just happened to be, the darker areas that Gaul was heading in were towards the direction of one of the elevators connected to the room. Coriolanus watched her body retreat into the dimly lit area, not quite following after her. He didn’t know why. His hands felt stiff with the folder in his hands. The pounding beat of his heart in his ears matched in tempo with the steps of her heels against the floor. If he was going to move, she was going to need to ask him. She knew too, the doctor knew her own footsteps, and she was very aware when others’ joined in. Turning around to look at where he still was, standing, watching, she looked back at him. Coriolanus could make out her faint silhouette in the dark, but Dr. Gaul’s blue eyes shone brighter in the dark. As if she had tapetum lucidum, how it reflected so wildly. She was not helping the rumors made against her, that questioned if she ever used herself for a subject of fascination.

“Come now, Coryo. You don’t want to waste time.”

A silence fell upon them both.

“Understood, I’m right behind you.”

Walking after her, Coriolanus descended the small set of stairs that she had gone down from, he stepped into the dimly lit area. The manila folder was still grasped tightly in his one hand, at his side. He didn’t understand it, he didn’t understand her. Yes, she said that she wanted to cheer him up, but he’d be a fool if he was to believe that’d was to be the only reason why she was doing this. Volumnia Gaul, telling confidential secrets because she cared for his well being? No, there was always something else. An ulterior motive she wished to serve, or a lesson she wanted to teach. When he was brought back from his sentence of being a peacekeeper, it was not because her heart broke over him. She was not weeping at him having to tread his feet into the muck and grime of District 12. It was because she was holding him up to an ambition that both him and her both wished to see.

“This one,” Dr. Gaul started her words, occasionally turning her head to the side to make sure he was still following her ( he was ). “Started out as a simple curiosity. I had to sit with myself quite a bit to figure out a punishment that would actually serve some productivity.” Her hands reached behind her, flicking at the folder that Coriolanus was holding. He opened up the folder, finally, to look through the report. Whatever the Doctor was gesturing vaguely in conversation, it would be more explicit in her writings. “Displays of cadavers, desecration of the human silhouette, trauma to the cerebrum, these punishments can only go for so long before new ideas must be made. If the rebels expect the same disciplinary action, you can expect them to gain a tolerance to it.”

Squinting at the paper, he leaned his head slightly down to get a closer look of the subject. A small photo was attached to the report by a paperclip, it was a person who seemed to be in a similar age group to his. They looked clean, proper - they wore an ironed, white button up shirt under a dark vest, with unique, yet simple earrings they donned on. Pearls and tiny opals that dangled from a gold chain earring. A family heirloom, if Coriolanus had to guess. They smiled widely in the photo. Their teeth weren’t perfect, their upper cuspid was a bit more pointed in comparison to all others.

They had once been a capital citizen, turned rebel, to… this.

“I wanted to truly push my mind forward, and see if the impossible would truly be… well, possible.” Dr. Gaul grinned at the end of the sentence. Coriolanus lifted the photo up, after hooking his gaze unto the former for a moment. It’s a shame, he thought to himself. How pretty they are, had they not tainted their mind with childish ideas they would have continued to live in the comforts that they were so comfortably lavishing in before. He was curious as to whose family they once belonged to. A filthy curiosity enticed him, a want to digest more at the report at the risk of tuning out Gaul’s feverish ramblings.

“Personally, I outdid myself.”

There was a small desire to curse her under his breath, the writing for the subject’s name was far too rushed and messy to read properly. Did she want him to read the report, or play word scramble?

Dr. Gaul’s steps had stopped, the white noise of her chatter turned to silence was enough to bring his head back from the report. She stood between him and the elevator, holding her hands in front of her, folded. Peeking to the side, the button for the down level was lit up in a glow of red. Her smile widened.

“Curiosity eating away at you, Coryo?”

It still made his skin crawl, everytime she used that name. How frightening it was, that it also brought him a strange sense of the coldest warmth.

“You’ve talked so vividly about them,” Not clear enough. “I want to see what makes you so excited about them.” He wants to see if they could come close to bringing him out of his frustrations. Fingers that touched the edge of the subject’s photo twitched in tempo with the small ding of the elevator. Doors opening, Dr. Gaul stepped to the side. Hands gestured, letting him know to step in first which he obliged. Yet, no other steps than his own followed him in. Coriolanus turned around, a puzzled look on his face when he noticed how Dr. Gaul was standing in the middle of the elevator’s doors.

“Expected me to come join you? You can’t be so attached to my hip, Coryo.” She laughed, her hands reached in between her surgical gown and work attire. Pulling out a set of keys attached to her worker’s ID, she tugged a key off. Dr. Gaul dipped her body slightly in to twist at a lock that had revealed another panel of floor buttons aside from the usual floor ones. This must have been the key designated for the Citadel’s researchers and engineers. He had a private key of his own, but that was reserved for Game Makers. Still in training, but Dr. Gaul had persuaded the others to give him his own copy. “I have other things that need tending to, so you’ll have to have your fun without me.” Pushing a floor button that was labeled C09, glowing red under her touch, she gave him her key. She pressed into Coriolanus’s free palm, closing his fingers to clasp around it.

“You can keep this one. I’ll ask for another copy.”

Was it because this one almost seemed rusted over to hell and back? Coriolanus wasn’t an idiot. He could feel the textured sensation of something that, usually, was supposed to be smooth metal.

“Thank you, Dr. Gaul.” He spoke softly back to her.

Dr. Gaul sent him another smile towards his way, the abominable sight of her gradually leaving his sight as the doors closed. A divide now between the both of them.

Instantly, a breath of air was released from Coriolanus. His head reeled back, eyes closed, leaning against the wall of the elevator. He was now by himself. Free from that imposing woman, he finally could be released from her watchful gaze. Always gauging him, examining him as if he, too, was another subject on her surgical table. Perhaps, in a strange, distant sense, he was. Which is why he likes it far more when their interactions are limited. Even if it makes him feel guilty if he hasn’t spoken to her for any prolonged amount of time.

Another breath, he brought his head back down, eyes open. Opening his hand to where the key was held in his hand. It was frighteningly warm in his hand, most likely from when both Dr. Gaul and him held onto it. The material of the key was dark in color, rust having formed around some of the edges. Spots of dark stains marred its dull shine, it almost looks black in contrast to the key’s natural dark hue. This most definitely was blood, now dried. In his head, Coriolanus could see the vivid picture in his head: Dr. Gaul barely bothering to remove her gloves after leaving the examination room, holding the key between sticky gloves. A sneer pulled on Coriolanus’s face. He pocketed the key away.

He wanted to focus on something else.

The weight of the manila report at his side stuck out glaringly obvious, he still had yet to fully read through everything. His fingers were still thumbing between one of the pages, bookmarking a random place in the report. Should he wait to see the project on his own? Give himself something ‘fun’ to surprise himself with? A discomfort prickled at the hairs on his neck. No, he didn’t like surprises too much. Surprises meant no control, and no control meant chaos that wasn’t under his hand. And what more could be asked, when what he needed to know was right here. Hands flipped back open the manila folder while he waited for the elevator to finish its descent.

On the first page, there was only one photo of the subject, before the project had started. Dr. Gaul was always so thorough, so there must have been more to see. And how he loved to be right, when the sight of more clipped on photos peeked through in between pages. He stopped at the sight of them. These had been nude, taken in what was most definitely an examination room. They must’ve been in captivity for a few days for how haggard they looked. Gleam completely gone, with only a dark emptiness seen on their face. Signs of minimal swelling on their left cheek from when they were hit by a peacekeeper when resisting arrest. Bags under the optics, suggesting either sleep deprivation or developed insomnia. His eyes lingered on the photos that took in zoomed in shots of identifiable beauty marks that were scattered around their body. One around the back of their left acromial, around the sternocleidomastoid, one on the left mammary gland, and another on the right femoral muscle. Unconsciously, his fingers traced along the edges of each photo as he examined them until they traced after the words of ink.

The objective of the project: engaging and testing pain receptors on the subject. By use of non-licensed medication and surgical operations, the subject’s NTRK1 gene was mutated to a certain extent to gain the closest imitation to Congenital Analgesia ( while still keeping the subject alive ). If Coriolanus recalled, in his textbooks, Congenital Analgesia was a condition that always was given to a patient by a pass down from the parent. It was never really something ‘made’, or ‘given’. He could understand now why Dr. Gaul was so pleased with herself for accomplishing this feat. Curiosity was beckoning him, wanting to see more of what the report entailed.

Pages dedicated to each operation, each test done. There were pain charts made, scales from 1 to 10, to test out the nerve receptors. Each test, the numbers on the chart went lower and lower; 10s that went to 9s, to the current lowest being a 6 for the majority of the subject’s body. The more sensitive areas, such as the frontal or the palmar of the body, were around 7 to 8 on the chart. Flipping to the back of the contents, there was a small note in Dr. Gaul’s handwriting.

Today, please take care of Project Prometheus’s nerve exams. The last surgical operation was done last month and they have just now fully recovered. Update the report by the end of today, to measure if there are any fluctuations on their pain receptors.

Sounded simple enough. If this was all he had to do today, then there was a chance he could clock out from work even earlier to give himself space before tonight’s event. A ding finally was heard from the elevator, he was here at Lab C09. Folder closed in his hands, his foot stepped out of the elevator and onto the floor. What a drastic difference Lab C09 had been in comparison to Lab H05. If it hadn’t belonged to Dr. Gaul, Coriolanus may not have been able to believe that this was an actual functioning lab. It almost seemed forgotten by the Citadel, half of the fluorescent lights not working, or blinking at different intervals. It bathed the floor in a very gray, almost vile green hue. The scent of copper and rust was far more noticeable, and the smell of medicine felt almost nauseous here. There were no grand columns in sight, and no endless amount of shelves dedicated to new specimens and ideas of creation. The floors were unkempt, specks of dirt packed into the corners of where the wall and once sleek tiles met. Occasional cracks on the floor, parts of the design broken and shattered into bits of ceramic. The halls were long, with endless doors that ( thankfully ) all were open, empty, or both. With the exception of the large corridor doors at the other end. He could make out the sight of Peacekeepers that stood on guard, near the corridor door and by the elevator entrance.

This definitely was Dr. Gaul’s more… uncensored labs.

Coriolanus took a few more steps into the lab and noticed the large stain of dried blood that dragged from where his feet stood, past the corridor doors. Eyebrows raised at the sight, but his eyes did not widen. Marvelous, the subject might still be rebellious. If this was to be the case, he’d be severely unimpressed. All these exams to change the NTRK1 and nothing done to affect the amygdala.

Sloppy work here, Dr. Gaul.

Pushing through the corridor doors, after giving the briefest of nods and acknowledgement towards the Peacekeepers, he found himself exactly where he needed to be. Entering an area that was entirely void of light, except for one thing.

A large window glass on the other side, showing the examination room on the other side. It lit up this half of the hall, shelves of varying medicines and chemicals lined against the walls of the examination room. Surgical tools were lined up high on the wall, out of reach, not yet pulled out and placed on the side. Today there was no operation to be done. Examination lights shone overhead, and under it was the examination table where Project Prometheus sat.

They sat down so compactly, so politely, knees folded to their chest and arms wrapped around them, their face leaned against the crevice their legs gave. The subject definitely had changed, physically, since the projects had begun. Their skin barely had the warm glow it had in their photo, had it not been for the peeks of color on their joints, he’d assume that there was no more blood rushing through their body. Their hair that once looked so well maintained, luxurious, was cut at awkward angles. Yet, it still managed to frame their face well enough. Figures, that was former Capital genes at work. Their body has taken significant damage since then. Scars of various shapes were scattered all across, bandages wrapped in some areas, and stitches that dragged around entire limbs, like their arms, thighs, feet, even one on their face. As if they were some over-played ragdoll that was patched up far too many times. There was no fight he could see from their eyes, and no anger. Was the blood on the floor halls really theirs, or did that belong to someone else?

This could not even be called anything, but a shell of a husk.

Coriolanus stood there, watching, taking in the sight of them. It barely felt like he was breathing. And that alone irritated him. It’s like his body was trying to make itself seem smaller; as if he was somehow bothering them. He sighed out his frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose. They couldn’t even hear him from the thick glass, what would he be so concerned with? Bringing his hand back down, about to open the manila folder once again to compare their ID photo to their current state - he peeked at their form again.

He had been noticed by it.

His breath felt lodged in his throat, his original action now tossed to the side, as they and him both just… watched each other. Their eyes that had looked so sullen and distant before, were so focused and vigilant of him. But, they didn’t seem scared of him. Their body didn’t look tense, their expression didn’t twist into any wrinkles. What feeling was running through their body? Could they possibly feel anything? Coriolanus stepped away from the glass, slowly, and down further into the hall, to where the door of their examination room was. A peacekeeper stood guard near the heavy door, beside them a surgical gown, cap, goggles and gloves were on a hook. Excusing the other to the side, so he could reach and grab the attire to put on himself. Coriolanus questioned, as he tugged the latex rubber gloves on, if he still wanted to entertain the idea of holding their test today. Teeth grinded inside his jaw, he hated to admit weakness, but it was no lie that they unsettled him when they had stared back.

That probably contributed to why Dr. Gaul favored the project so much, both must take joy from bringing him such unease. A sigh hissed from his teeth, as he put the surgical mask on.

“I’ll be back out in just a moment. I’ll let you know if an emergency comes up.”

It’ll be easy work, and then he can leave.

Opening the door, the sterile smell of the room rushed past him as the metal door was moved from its tight seal and then closed heavily behind him. Their head had moved away from where the glass window was, turned to stare at where he stood near the door, their folder still in his hands. Thinly-veiled sweat was forming inside the gloves, with the silence that fell heavy in the room. He opened the folder.

“Good morning, Subject A01, I am–”

…?

Did they say something?

“...I’m sorry, did you say something?”

Another tense silence fell in the air.

“... That isn’t my name.” Its voice was quiet, slightly hoarse but not entirely. Unexpected, considering their length of stay here. His fingers pinched tightly at one of the pages.

“...What do you mean?” He was not going to call them by their Capital name. They had long since lost the right to use it, after rebelling against Panem.

“Dr. Gaul calls me something else.” Coriolanus was going to kill it if they did not clarify.

“And what does she call you?” This was the nicest tone he could muster.

They spoke it once into the air, still looking at him with those dead eyes of theirs. Had Dr. Gaul been so fond of it to have given it an entirely new name? And they accepted and went along with it? That didn’t feel right, from what he’s examined about them so far. They were a rebel, they had fought against a Peacekeeper, they were dragged around the halls bleeding.

And they gave up their old name?

It had shifted out of its cradled position, their legs dangled off the examination table and their arms were placed on their side. Coriolanus could see the patient gown they wore more clearly. It kicked its feet in the air idly, as it waited for his response.

… Do they even know the situation that they’re in?

“...Right. Well, do you know why I’m here?”

“Not really. I’ve never met you before.” Was context clues also something it gave up while in captivity? “I know the guards, and I know Dr. Gaul. I don’t think I know about you,” They’re a prisoner, it’d be counter-intuitive if people were giving them info about every single staff member here. His mask covered the lower half of his face, but he hoped the slight shift of facial muscle was enough to convey that was trying to smile towards them. He walked further into the examination room, closer to where it sat and where the shelves of drugs and medical equipment were lined up. Their stare was burrowing holes into his back, while he shifted around, opening and closing shelves and drawers to check inside for what he needed.

“Well, I am Dr. Gaul’s assistant. You can call me Snow,” He was not giving his first name to a former rebel. “I’m here today because Dr. Gaul is a bit busy today to handle your check-up, so I’ll be filling in her role.” Gloves shifted bottles around, turning them around to read the labels. The disinfectant, cotton swabs, tweezers, needles, rubbing alcohol, syringes, the bite-rag, marker, he had it all except the custom medicine that Dr. Gaul had made for it. In the instructions of how to construct their exam, Dr. Gaul had explicitly mentioned that they were to take specific medication, as they had helped keep it conscious at all times for operations and exams. It was needed so that they’d be able to relay the ratings, which is why Coriolanus was reading yet another prescription bottle in his hands, squinting in frustration.

“It’s this bottle over here.”

A delicate, scarred hand had pointed at another bottle that sat idly on the shelf. Coriolanus turned his head slightly, seeing the subject no longer on the examination table, standing behind him quietly. Not staring at him, they were entirely looking at where their hand pointed. They were only standing just a couple inches away from his body, careful not to touch him as they stood on the tips of their toes to point at the medicine. With this proximity, it was easier for him to get a closer look at them. The stitches on its body were done with thick, prominent threads; there were far more beauty marks he could pick out on their face that the photos didn’t display. The patient gown was made from a material far thinner than he expected, a visible silhouette could be seen from underneath the flimsy cloth. His mouth felt unusually dry.

A cold chill trickled down his spine. He barely noticed them. He doesn’t even think it made a sound when it moved.

“Careful, keep your space from me.” He spoke, a careful warning to their ears and a threatening promise on his. He didn’t want to risk being so close to them like this, he barely knew the extent of how violent the project could possibly be yet. Still, they listened, backing away from him and putting their hand back down to their side. Both it and him stared at each other again, the tense air dancing back inside the room. They looked as if they had wanted to say something, and Coriolanus, internally, felt almost violent for how demure they were being with him. It repulsed him, how it felt almost endearing if he looked at them for a second more.

“Is something wrong?” Eventually he bit the bullet, speaking first between the two of them. He can’t bear another moment of silence with it.

“... I don’t need a bite-rag. I don’t think I really scream much anymore.” They still had an issue with explaining context to him more, he’ll tell Dr. Gaul that needed some work lat– His jaw ticked… Why did he care about your abysmal social skills? It was a captive, it had no one to speak to other than their own captors. Pulling down their prescription from the shelf, a dark, thick liquid, he said in return: “It’s best to have it on hand, just in case you need it. Now, return back to the examination table.” For a split second, he thought he could see their gaze soften at him. Were they seriously entertaining the idea that he was being nice to them? Coriolanus just didn’t want to deal with their sounds while he worked. It’d be like trading one screaming fit for another, for when he had to go on his date with Livia later in the evening.

They nodded, and followed his command, walking back to sit on top of it. Their body was sitting in his direction though, observing, waiting for him. Coriolanus still felt unsure about them, but… it was strange, their obedience. It made him suspicious of its intent with all this. Trailing back to the center of the examination room, he placed all the tools on a metal tray. Pulling out an exam stool from under one of the tables, he set the syringe to the cap of its prescription. He pulled the plunger of the syringe up, watching as the barrel filled up with medicine, until it sat nicely. The needle left smoothly from the cap, and a drop of the liquid dangled at the edge of it. This form of silence he liked far more better.

“...Do you have family, Dr. Snow?”

So close. Coriolanus flicked the needle harshly, the drop hitting somewhere else. He placed the ready syringe down, and picked up the black marker. Turning back towards them, their head rested in their palms, watching him intensely.

“That’s none of your concern. Now please, remove your gown so we can get started on the examination.” Grabbing the stool to pull it underneath him, he got comfortable in the seat while it moved to get up. As their hands reached behind them to undo the tie around their waist first, it still spoke ( much to his chagrin ).

“I was just wondering since Dr. Gaul usually talks whenever she comes to visit.” That explained why their throat was not as hoarse as he was expecting. Dr. Gaul was treating her trials with them as a morning brunch. “She sometimes talks about her day, or talks about her family.” They loosened the tie around their waist, the fabric more flowy around their lower body. Coriolanus stared intently, taking in the first peek of skin. Looking past the scars, despite the stitches pulling at parts of their skin, and the dented scars, their skin looked soft, malleable. They must’ve been popular on weekend nights, back then. Their hands reached up to undo the tie around their collar. Rather than watching him while he worked, it was his turn to watch them. There was that beauty mark on their left acromial. Eyes leisurely trailed back up to their fingers, the smallest note with how it fumbled around behind them to untie the flimsy string. Their movements were clumsy, in his eyes, which almost surprised him. “She likes to talk about her three kids often.”

Coriolanus looked away from their stitched fingers, confusion on his face.

“Dr. Gaul only has two kids.” He’s seen the photos she has in her office. She has two sons, both who have gone on to have families of their own. Not once has she mentioned a third kid, Coriolanus isn’t even sure it was possible at her age. Didn’t menopause usually affect a person’s chances of getting pregnant? Maybe it was a secret child she had abandoned at the maternal ward while dropping off her resignation as an obstetrician.

“No, she has three. She told me their names: Caius, Martius, and Coriolanus.”

Oh.

Oh, now that’s…

“I see. You must be closer to Dr. Gaul than I am.”

He didn’t know what to really say to that. There was really nothing for him to go and argue about, especially with the patient. Coriolanus couldn’t quite outright say that the third child was him, especially when he specifically told them to refer to him by his last name. And if he revealed that this was an entire lie on Dr. Gaul’s end, he wasn’t quite sure how the woman would react for doing so. It wasn’t his place, when he had no idea what Gaul had wanted to achieve. He understood the physical punishment and hypothesis being put upon Project Prometheus, but he had yet to understand where the emotional, and the mental, aspect of this punishment was. Dr. Gaul will tell him if it was needed, or he’ll figure it out based on his own conclusions. That must be one of the purposes Dr. Gaul had assigned this task to him.

“Alright. I’m done.”

Coriolanus blinked. He didn’t even realize he lost focus on them, he let out a small exhale as he lifted himself from the exam stool, marker ready in hand.

“Right, for the next step of this exam, I need to…”

Words trailed off for him.

What an entirely different view it was, from before, looking at them only from the back. From behind, it was just read to him as a large canvas of skin that had already been stained and painted on. Nothing that gave way to what person under the flesh could be. Yet, the front… There was more to regard and take note of, a far more different feeling than just having viewed from the photos alone in the reports. If he were to ignore the marks left on their body, had they stayed perfect from before, he could’ve made the argument about their body being more alluring than the average Capital citizen. That familiar, dry feeling touched his throat again. What a waste, for genes like that to be wasted on a rebel. There were more beauty marks and moles in the front, along with more stitches and scars. Coriolanus could see the surgical scars that were healing between their pectoralis major area. A curiosity rose, questioning how scarred tissue would feel under his gloves. He raised an eyebrow, as his gaze dared to move to a lower section on their body. Must be for easier mapping, that Dr. Gaul decided it was best to have their pubic area shaved clean.

“...Dr. Snow, are you okay?”

His tongue darted out to lick his dry lips under the surgical mask.

“Fine, just thinking about Dr. Gaul’s instructions.” He was going to go insane before he could even head to the fundraiser tonight. Coriolanus reached his free hand out, hovering it over their shoulder area, guiding them to stand closer to the area between the exam table, and his stool. He took note, that despite the way their body has changed since their captivity, their body still held a warmth that radiated off from their skin. “Stand here, please. For this next step, I’ll be using this marker here to map out the different muscles and areas on your body. Are you familiar with this?”

The subject nodded, a yes from their lips.

Good.

The sound of the marker cap popping off filled in the lack of words on Coriolanus’s part, the black cap falling on the tiled floor and rolling off to a dark, distant corner of the room. “For today, we’ll only be focusing on the external pain chart. Meaning skin surface only,” He lifted the subject’s hair, pushing up against the subject’s head, strands that were long enough to block full access to the neck. Bringing the marker up, he pressed down the chiseled tip of alcoholic ink on the subject’s skin, making the first section of dotted lines. Writing on their skin in careful, small letters, the areas that compromised their neck; the semispinalis capitis, the levator scapulae, the rhomboid minor–

“How long have you worked for Dr. Gaul?”

Fingers nearly stumbled in drawing when the muscle stretched in movement, he lifted the marker carefully away from its skin. The idea of putting in Gaul’s suggestion box the order of a mouth gag was becoming all the more tempting to him.

“It doesn’t concern you.” Coriolanus responded, coolly.

He pressed the marker back down on its skin, moving himself to the anterior of its body. Between his gloved fingers, he held their chin. The muscle limp in his hands, letting him lift their chin up to show more, exposing the unfolded expanse of their skin. The project was an annoying one, but at the least,they were a pliant one. The black dotted lines drew itself across the subject’s body: the sternocleidomastoid, the sternohyoid–

“How has your day been so far, Dr. Snow?”

Would Dr. Gaul throw him to the curb if he strangled one of her projects?

Coriolanus lifted himself slightly from his leaned down angle, his fingers that once lifted its chin up, had pulled their chin back down to look at him eye to eye. Its gaze stared back at him with such emptiness, a lack of anything to be seen, no anger, no defiance, no discomfort, not even joy. His eyebrows narrowed down slightly as he took in the face that held no question to how, and what, manner he held their body in. Were they trying to please him? Make his guard drop down by asking questions, hoping that he’d become more sympathetic towards them?

“Dr. Gaul isn’t here. You are under no requirement to attempt conversations like you’ve done with her.” He spoke, trying his best attempt at sounding sympathetic to their ears. That would be the easiest explanation. The soul of them was sucked out by Dr. Gaul forcing them into an illusion of a grotesque socialite. That’d explain away the project’s incessant speaking.

Yet, the subject had tilted their head under his fingers. The slightest push against his grasp.

“... Do you not like talking, Dr. Snow? Dr. Gaul always looks so happy when she’s talking.”

So they were trying to suck up to him. He locked his teeth. And to think, he was giving them a chance of redemption, by assuming that they had been conditioned to engage in meaningless conversation. Maybe he was wrong about their obedience. There was still a spark of a rebel within them regardless of their time, their experiences, in captivity.

“I only ever see Dr. Gaul, so I got excited to see someone new. I’m sorry for upsetting you,”

They could’ve fooled him with that tone of voice. They sounded as dead as their eyes had looked. Yet, Coriolanus bit his bottom lip as the doubt touched his head; the subject’s stare, if he gazed deeply enough he felt as if he could almost make out a sullenness to them. Were they legitimately apologetic? He didn’t want to even know the answer, he just wanted to finish this job as quickly as possible. He let go of their chin, releasing it. Gloved fingers now traced the space between their shoulder and collarbone, the subject angling their neck to the other side to give him room. He brought the marker back down to their skin, more dotted lines appearing under his wake.

“... What exactly is your relationship to Dr. Gaul, if I may ask?” He hated them, he decided. He hated how quickly they managed to rope him into this dumb small talk. It was almost audible, the sound of the subject blinking, feeling their gaze boring under the layers of his clothes. Did he say the wrong thing? Did they not want conversation? He adjusted the weight of his stance, uncomfortable under the silence the subject had unwillingly placed him in. Was he not doing what they wanted, was that not enough for them?

“Dr. Gaul is…” Their words trailed off. They were trying to find the words, unsure of what to say to him. They most likely didn’t want to try and insult her, considering her assistant was in the room with them. They don’t want to risk possibly earning more punishment. Project Prometheus may have been smarter than what he initially assumed. Coriolanus moved back to the posterior, hands trailed themselves across the subject’s shoulders, feeling, to remind him of the muscle underneath before he marked it down. Trapezius.

“Dr. Gaul is my caretaker, I think.”

Well isn’t that something unique.

If the subject had decided to say captor, overseer, punisher, he wouldn’t have cared. It would’ve been honest. Caretaker? That was something different, that was something sympathetic. The thought of them turning this twisted dynamic into something heartfelt, fell sour on his tongue. It made him feel repulsion towards them. Why bother to lie? “Tell me about that.” His voice was soft, inviting the project to open themselves to him. As the marker continued to mark their skin, Coriolanus took one of its arms under his hand. The subject’s fingers twitched slightly, when he brought his hand under theirs. Their hand was not that big in comparison to his own, unable to fully fill out of his palm. The fingertips were usually the more sensitive parts, when it came to sensations. He hummed. Adductor pollicis.

“...I’m not sure how to describe it well.” They sounded unsure. Spending this extended amount of time with them, Coriolanus could make out the slight tonal differences they had in their voice. It was very small, though. The muscles in his hands seem to slightly tense.

“Do your best for me.”

Their fingertips, the slightly yellowed nails, tapped slightly at the latex material of his gloves. Almost as if fidgeting to gather the words, the right ones, to say to him.

“Dr. Gaul has always been… someone there, I suppose.” Because she has to. “The guards are there too, but they don’t really notice me in the way Dr. Gaul does.” He wrote down on another part of the subject’s arm, drawing another dotted line. Brachioradialis. “Even though the tests kind of hurt, but I’m getting used to it now, she’s been the only one so far to give me a name, a birthday, check up on me, tell me about her day,” He was almost impressed at how their were trying to upsell the ‘normalcy’ of their captivity. A new name and birthday? Maybe the secret third child of Dr. Gaul wasn’t him, but actually them instead. He almost laughed aloud at the prospect of it. Coriolanus turns to the other side of their body, taking the other arm of the subject to write on after finishing the other. Biceps brachii. “That’s like a caretaker, right?” And now it was asking for his confirmation? It truly does want to appease him. He let out another hum, as if he was thinking to himself when he was going to go along with their delusions. “It sounds like Dr. Gaul cares a great deal for you.” He lied to them.

Making his back to the anterior of the subject’s body, he stood in front of them, the subject tilting their head up to him. Project Prometheus was shorter, in comparison to him, standing at eye level against his chest. Latex touched the area of the linea alba, Coriolanus kept his gaze steady on them and they did the same. There was a silence that fell between them, but it felt so uninviting to him now that he finally had it. The subject still held their indifference, their apathy, and he wanted to know why it bothered him so much when he should like how easy of a prisoner they were being. No, there had to be something more. There was always something more. His fingers dragged down their skin, and his marker followed behind, writing down the names of the muscles he touched. The subject had moved their arms, and Coriolanus tensed for a second, thinking they were finally going to react, going to grab him, hit him, something – yet, their arms shifted away from the angle of his body, moving in to hold the muscles of the pectoralis major up in their hands, cupping them. They were making more room for him to write on their upper abdomen.

Coriolanus loathed them.

Had he had half the control, he would’ve smacked the stitched hands away. He liked it far more when they acted like a ragdoll, instead of this game of pacification it was trying to play. Writing down on the external oblique aponeurosis, he brought his hands back up their skin until it rested under their wrists. He held both their wrists on either hand. “Please, bring your hands down so I can continue mapping.” The words came out more as a whisper than he had intended. They instantly had listened to his command, letting their arms fall back on either side and their chest exposed to him. His eyes lingered briefly on the sight, taking in the small details that made the subject unique. The beauty mark on their left mammary gland, now in his line of sight. No longer blocked by the limit of only just a photo. There was that dry feeling in his mouth again.

Carefully, bringing a hand up, gauging their reaction, he held one of the mammary glands in his free hand and a marker up in the other. Judging their face, they seemed neutral, no frown or smile, no wrinkle, no squint. He could assume there must have been discomfort under those dark pits for eyes. He knew that’s what he felt, doing this right now. Coriolanus wondered if it would have been better or worse, if Project Prometheus were to be more… reactionary.

“Let me know if anything bothers you.” Dotted lines followed after his hand. He’d take it, the laborious small talk. It was much more preferred right now than this tortuous silence that had fallen between them. Thick and constricting, had it gone on any longer, Coriolanus knew he would drive himself internally insane if he was to be left alone to his own thoughts. If Project Prometheus had done nothing while he was holding onto their very own breasts in his hands. Had it been any other person, they would’ve squirmed under his touch. Possibly even a twitch to unconsciously move away, as the marker moved against the skin of the areola. The mapping of the right gland was dotted and marked completely.

“You don’t bother me.”

Now, that felt deliberate.

Ink halted, stopping after writing out the final letter of the pectoralis minor. The words were written next to the beauty mark he had noted before. Coriolanus was tempted to make dotted lines around the area, as a place of special interest, though marks like these were no major muscle or nerve. Blue eyes had looked up through thick lashes, he slightly lifted his craned head up to get a better look at the subject. Peering towards their face, he didn’t know why he expected anything different. It was the same look of disinterest, the broken lights hung above them casted a haunting shadow over their face. Did he also look similar, when they stared back at him? In certain angles, despite the unnerving look the room had given them, Coriolanus might’ve thought their eyes seemed naturally soft towards him. Innocent, maybe.

Did they see nothing wrong with what he was doing? … Or had all the tests and operations ruined not just their nerves, but fried them, that their sense of danger seemed near non-existent?

Was this another form of appeasement that it was trying to pull on him?

Unconsciously, his hands had released themselves, finally, from holding onto Project’s Prometheus’s breasts. Both now marked, his free hand slid down the expanse of their abdomen. The ridges and bumps of their scars and stitches were felt briefly, the full grasp of the sensation blocked by the barrier of latex rubber wrapped around his fingers. Not once did he look away from the subject as his hands made its way down, and neither did Project Prometheus. His hand stopped at the tensor fasciae latae. Something was wrapping itself around the cavity of his chest, making the activity of breathing a difficult feat for him to do. Coriolanus didn’t know what he was doing. Was he trying to garner a bigger reaction from it? An attempt of possibly stirring violence, even?

Maybe it was delaying his own discomfort, he realized. Looking down, he stared to see the spread of skin below that had no splotches of black ink. They were shorter than him, he’d have to get down on his knees if he wanted to have clear and easy access to mark its legs. How humiliating… Having risen up through the ranks and bringing the Snow family back to its rightful place of acclaim and fortune; only to fall back down on his knees to a prisoner, a former rebel. If the other families caught wind of this, he’d never hear the end of it.

Reluctantly, still holding onto their hip, his body moved itself to the floor. Knees touched against the uneven grout of the tiles, the position a bit awkward. He was thankful, for the surgical gown he wore, that the vile floor of the examination room wouldn’t stain against his clothes. Tracing his hand down to the stitch mark path of their leg, he rested it at the back of their thigh. Coriolanus tilted his head up, ready to command that Project Prometheus moved their leg more towards him. But, his words fell into a silent, held breath as he gazed up at them from his position. The shadow that had cascaded over their face briefly from before was now entirely enveloped around their body. Sickly green fluorescent lights shone above their head, akin to a haloing effect. Illuminated around the edges of their body, their hair, the subject still looking at him. Only him, and nothing else. A thrumming noise was loud in his ears; it felt dangerous. It felt like a warning that something was wrong here. He had felt it before.

Project Prometheus moved its leg forward, more into him, without a word ever spoken between the two of them. How pliant it was with him.

He pressed the marker against their skin as thank you, dipping his head back down to their thigh. It would be risky, if he lost focus. There was still so much he had yet to know of the subject, the layers that were contained behind the flimsy shield of flesh and tissue. He dotted the area of the vastus medialis, careful not to press the ink against the subject’s stitches so as not to irritate the healing skin there. Maybe its attempts of appeasement were working on him. Not once did he think he’d have a shred of enough care to think about the possibility of ink seeping into their wounds.

He marked down the region of the knee. Patella.

“...You’re a very gentle person, Dr. Snow.” The subject spoke quietly, in a whisper just loud for him to hear. “You treat me so carefully, I barely feel a thing when you hold me.”

It mistook his lightweight hands for kindness. Reality was that he was just wary about setting them off.

“Does Dr. Gaul not treat you in the same manner?” The words came out softly from him. Reaching now the ankle of the subject, gloved hands reached down underneath the sole of its foot, lifting it up for better writing access. Instinctively, Project Prometheus placed their hands on either side of his shoulders so as to not fall. Their body leaned itself more into him, using him as a steady weight of support. The proximity of their small body bent over his, the glare of the fluorescent lights was entirely swallowed up, casting a dark shadow over him, blocking the light from reaching him. Could they feel, under their ragged fingers, the tenseness in his body at their action? If the subject wanted to, they could easily go in to attack him in this vulnerable position. He’d do the same if he was in their position. He continued to write, marker steady in hand. There would be no satisfaction to be gained for the subject, in seeing him stumble and cower.

He wrote the words ‘abductor hallucis’ on their foot.

“She… does not treat me rough, no. If I had to describe it, I think the word for it is more… ‘inanimate’.” He doesn’t quite recall if a new law was passed that required captors to treat prisoners humanely. It sounded as if it was trying to recall certain words again. Should the exam go entirely smoothly with no problems, he might feel generous enough to convince Dr. Gaul to bring Project Prometheus a dictionary for them to study up on. Not like it would do much. It wasn’t like they had anyone to really practice their knowledge on.

Coriolanus wondered what the prisoner was exactly before all this, back when they were formerly Capital. They lacked the air of dignity and ignorance that most Capital elites donned well, but maybe that could be attributed to their decay while staying here. Or perhaps the prisoner had come from a small, simple family. The kind that handled all the manual labor that the Capital never liked to speak loud about. The workers who were hardly ever seen, or acknowledged. That could explain why he never heard any recent fuss over a family’s child being ‘sent away’. No one would ever care for a background prop.

It held onto his shoulders more tightly, as he adjusted the subject’s position. It didn’t want to topple over him.

Project Prometheus's right foot now marked accordingly, he placed its foot back down on the rotten floor. Ready to reach his hand to hold onto their left, the subject moved without the need for his touch. The left leg was gestured forward for him. How sweet of them to realize a pattern. “I don’t mind it, though. As long as she still talked to me.” How fascinating. The subject was pacified by the easy act of conversation. Such a simple thing to be pleased by, Coriolanus could think they were joking. Regardless of how things were going so far, he still didn’t forget it. The bloodstains on the halls was something he could not erase so easily. That suggested, no, it told him, that Project Prometheus had something up their sleeve still. Though, nothing had occurred. Nothing had happened because they were still speaking to each other. Coriolanus continued to write on its foot. Lumbrical.

“...Do you get upset if she doesn’t speak to you?”

He couldn’t help but ask.

He wanted to know. He needed to know.

“...I get lonely, and sad.” Was it trying to downplay its emotional reactions to him? “I wonder if it's because I did something wrong to upset her.” If a prisoner of his tried to fight back numerous times during their captivity, he’d get annoyed too. It was strange, though. Coriolanus knew that morals and values were of no concern for Dr. Gaul, especially against rebels. Any torture, punishment, placed on them was not seen as being done onto another person, but just another animal, a specimen in her collection. It would not be above Dr. Gaul to cut off a limb, or two, to get a prisoner to stop fighting. So… why not do the same here? Perhaps, this form of mental and emotional punishment was more lethal than he assumed. Another curious test from the mad woman, it was impossible to ever understand her whims.

“Sometimes, I think it might be one of her tests.”

Coriolanus didn’t say those words.

He didn’t like this. Such a statement, spoken so simply, brought him a sick swirl of unease.

The movement of ink had halted, yet his mind continued to race. The thin hairs at the back of his neck stood at its ends, and he held tightly onto the marker in his hand. Quietly, carefully, he placed the plantar surface of Project Prometheus’s foot back down on the uneven tiles below the both of them. Reaching his hands up to his shoulders, where the subject’s extensor retinaculum were, he held onto it firmly. The subject put up no sign of objection. Sweat was slowly building up under the tight material of the gloves he donned on, but it was not a sweltering warmth. It was a cold, clammy sensation.

“What do you mean by ‘one of her tests’?” Punctuating the words at the end, he kept his tone inquisitive, curious. Perhaps, a dabble of suspicion. Not towards the subject, but more towards the matter. What was needed in this situation was caution, and he’d be a gutted fool if he was to let the rebel become aware of how much the question startled him to his core. For right now, he’d play the gentle, confused assistant that it assumed of him before. He already told the lie of it knowing Dr. Gaul better than he did.

“Her tests,”

It spoke as if he knew! He knew very well what it was. What once was a flash of fear, had become a steady stream of anger. He knew because he is Dr. Gaul’s assistant. It was his job to follow in the steps she’s placed out for him, and more. Why would a prisoner, a subject, know about the ways Dr. Gaul operated? How much does Dr. Gaul tell it in these ‘conversations’?

It made him sick, that the lie he told before could actually become true.

“I never notice it until it’s done, until she tells me at the end. She never shares the results with me.” For once, he is tempted to strip his pride and beg for more details. “Most days, it’ll be physical tests, like today. Others, it’s more… talking, or writing.”

“Writing?”

It came out quickly before he could properly think his words over. He doesn’t recall seeing possible writing exams in Subject A01’s report. To be fair to himself, he did skim it briefly since he was only just now introduced to the project. There wasn’t much time for him to familiarize himself with all the tiny details written inside. At least, the things that were legible.

“Dr. Gaul hands me scraps of paper and just asks me to write what I think. Like uh, a journal…I guess.” Keeping a diary couldn’t be the only test Dr. Gaul was having it do. If writing random streams of thought was enough to be intellectually challenging, he wouldn’t be seeing students at the University fighting to win passing grades. “I don’t understand the reason why, and I never remember what I write. My memory is not the best.” It was giving him an excuse to try and shift the conversation. How funny it was, trying to take control of the situation. He’d never let such a thing happen. In this examination room, there was only one person and a subject, the dynamic that was at play was clear. The grip Coriolanus had on their extensor retinaculum tightened, an unconscious movement on his part. Project Prometheus had taken in a soft breath of air at the action, the sound loud enough between the both of them. Had it not come from a prisoner, what a sweet sound it could’ve been.

“Could you explain it to me,” His voice came out softly, despite the gnawing irritation that he held back. The tight grasp he had loosened, one hand stroking down a careful thumb down the stitched wrist of the subject in gentle circles. He shifted in his kneeled position, adjusting to a more comfortable weight as the layers he wore started to wear at him, an uncomfortable shift. Wearing the surgical uniform could be sweltering. Tilting his head up slightly to gaze up at the subject, praying that his eyes did not betray and reveal his inner thoughts. “Try to remember.”

Coriolanus could’ve sworn he saw a slight falter, a tremble, in the dark optics of Project Prometheus. Its supercilium furrowed just the slightest inch upwards; did it look apologetic? The first visible change of expression he’s witnessed in the time he’s spent here in this examination room, and it’s one of regret. The subject’s fingers twisted itself into the fabric of his surgical gown, opening its mouth partially as they sought the right sound, the right word. He could make out the faint peeks of its canines.

“... I’m sorry, Dr. Snow. I can’t remember at all,” They breathed out, in admission, surrendering. It treated it as a guilty confession.

“Not a thing?” He whispered softly to them, prompting them to speak more. Coriolanus applauded himself internally, for how sympathetic he sounded.

The subject shook its head.

“My memory is not good.” Again, it reaffirmed its previous statement.

Was his question that hard? Surely, specks of small details, flashes of imagery, that would be sufficient enough of an answer for him. He wasn’t asking for a full essay of their inner workings ( though, he wouldn’t mind it ). However, as both their eyes continued locked in a stare, his thumb slowed its movements. The leathered finger stopping at the center junction of its stitches, the feel of the raised, textured skin apparent under the feel of the material. Project Prometheus was being sincere. Its face hadn’t changed, its body had not moved away from him. Dare he say, the minimal space between them; something he did not mind earlier before, had become much more apparent in his feverish mind. The subject answered him so honestly, it made his suspicions of before seem so ridiculous now. One thing did nag at him though, the writing, the insistence of journaling, the memory.

…

“... Do you remember how long you’ve been here?” Two years ago, Coriolanus recalled. Two years ago, that was when he was abandoned in District 12. When Dr. Gaul had started the experiment on Subject A01, busying herself with curiosities while he was drowning himself in depravities and vices, waiting out like a dog for some form of mercy to reach him.

A new, tense silence consumed them both. He watched the subject carefully, taking note of the slightest movement that could give any indication of anything more. Tracing with his eyes, following how Project Prometheus’s cuspid snagged at their chapped bottom lip. A faint flush of red spread across the muscle, from the pressure exerted on it. Unconsciously, it reminded him of how dry his own mouth felt, the hoarse sensation in his throat. He darted out his own tongue for a brief moment to wet his own mouth, hidden underneath the surgical mask he wore. Nothing was being said between them, but yet there was so much being told. A fierce feeling was soaring, running through the veins of Coriolanus; he knew what it meant and he feared for it. Not for what the answer could be, but what it possibly could bring up.

“You don’t remember how you got it here at all, do you?” His voice was so hushed, spoken as if taboo. It gave him the same feeling of it, the rush as the blood was entering his head and his heartbeat loud in his ears.

A form of dissociative amnesia.

Project Prometheus had developed gaps in memory due to an extended amount of isolation and exposure to severe trauma. It all clicked in Coriolanus’s head. He understood now what Dr. Gaul was attempting to achieve in her games with the subject. The tests, the daily conversations, the journal writing – Dr. Gaul was examining the subject’s mental decay as part of the Project’s ongoing research. Not only has the woman deteriorated and changed the way the prisoner’s nerves had worked, but their mind as well. Is continuing the Project even viable to do anymore? It was a form of punishment. Would it be ethical to operate on a being of flesh, when the subject no longer knew what it was being punished for? The question would most likely give Dr. Gaul a kick of joy. She loved to ponder questions worthy of debate. Coriolanus wouldn’t put it past the woman if she already gave the inquiry out to one of her classes in a lecture hall.

“I vaguely do,”

His eyebrows rose in interest.

“But only in subtle feelings.”

Nevermind.

“I think I experienced some form of confusion. And bits of anger, too. Dr. Gaul… For a moment, I used to be so scared of her. Now, I can’t even remember the reason why.”

Project Prometheus’s indifference, Coriolanus realized, it was not just solely based on apathy. What had become of it was a blank state, unsure of how to process things so the mind refused to process it all. But, it was still something highly susceptible to influences, shown in how Project Prometheus had become conditioned like Pavolv Dog, to associate Dr. Gaul’s silence with anger and disappointment, and her socialness with satisfaction and joy. It all was dawning on him. He could see it now, why Dr. Gaul was so disturbingly fascinated by this project. Gloved hands moved away from the subject’s wrist, and reached out to lay in gentle manner against the side of their bare thighs. The subject allowed him to, never raising a sign of objection. Could he teach it to experience anger once more, when he treated their body like this? Maybe discomfort, disgust, despair - he wanted to show their blank canvas of a mind what it felt like to fully immerse themselves in these ugly emotions. He knew why they were like this, but there still was a lingering crumb of vexation directed at the subject. Somehow, in their newfound state, they still felt far more free than he ever did; how they almost felt nothing, and he had to feel everything.

And yet, there was another thought that touched him. He wondered, if he spent enough time with the subject, could he too, be able to condition them to other things. They thought of him as merciful, kind, in comparison to Dr. Gaul. Could he make Project Prometheus worship him, and in the same quiet breaths they were fond of, resent him? The thought of making them accustomed to anticipating his attendance, and lamenting his absence sounded tempting.

How nice it would be, to have someone other than a deranged crone enjoy his presence.

Tigris certainly didn’t anymore.

Coriolanus rose himself from the ground, gripping on the meat of Project’s Prometheus’s flesh to lift him. Under his touch, the pliant stretch of skin and tissue made the subject remove their hands from his shoulders. Another faint breath escaped their exhale. It was a sound he was slowly getting used to. Back to their original height difference, he no longer had to crane his head up to look at the subject. The subject had to lift their head up to look up at him, now. What did Project Prometheus see, in their gaze as they stared at him, Coriolanus thought. Was he too, consumed in shadow and bathed under the gritty lights of the examination room like they once had?

“We’re done with the mark-up.” It took him a moment to move away from the subject. “We’ll move to holding the nerve exam now, after I administer a low dosage of your medication.”

The uncapped, black marker was placed back down on the metal tray, aside from the examination table. Replacing its empty space was now the syringe he had filled out before, the dark color swishing as he picked it up. The needle gleamed under the fluorescent light. Turning his back around, Project Prometheus had already sat themselves up nicely on the edge of the examination table for him. Their legs dangled off, their hands held at the edges of the worn-out leather cushion, eyes fixated on his person. They were waiting for him. He’s almost bothered, how easily the subject could anticipate his next set of commands. He hoped that this was just due to routine, not because he had become easy to read. Coming up to meet them there, the only sound that filled the air was the sole of his shoes stepping against the tiles. Gloved fingers reached to grab at the jaw of Project Prometheus, the syringe held close to their face. It shone particularly brilliant, mere inches away from their face. The subject showed him no fear, no resistance, despite the way the skin of the cheeks had moved under his grasp.

Already, he wanted to break them.

“Show me where to inject you.”

He’d be sweet, Coriolanus would let them pick where it was most comfortable for him to inject the medication in. Project Prometheus complied immediately to him, holding on the hand that held their needle to adjust the position. They guided him to the back of their neck, moving their hair to make space. To reward their compliance, he pricked the syringe quickly under the skin, careful not to touch an artery or nerve. The dark liquid inside the barrel slowly filled out, emptying itself as he pushed the plunger down. The subject did not let out a sound, a favorable contrast to Livia, who waited for him outside these Citadel walls.

He was going to mold them into something useful.

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #tbosas fic #thg series #thg fic #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #volumnia gaul #tw medical #medical horror #fanfic #.// ♡ basil's archive #. // ♡ rubatosis series #its insane how much i wrote for this first chapter lmao #its like 30 pages on google docs #i am obsessed with this man #i really wanted this chapter to be a focus of snow & reader building their dynamic and bond before we jump off the deep end #i am really excited to write the coming chapters

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questinwitchface · 2 months ago

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Q's 31 Days of Halloween Advent Event Masterpost

Hello dears! Back in March, I decided I really wanted to write a Halloween fic this year, and with inspiration from @allcolorsoftherainbow who did an advent challenge for Christmas one year, I decided to do an advent challenge for Halloween this year, as a personal challenge to myself. My friend, my sibling/beta reader, and I all worked together to create a prompt list; I wrote a fic for each prompt, and soon I will be sharing those fics with you!

Each day in October, expect a new fic from me until finally we get to Halloween! Most of the fics are SamBucky, and most - but not all - are oneshots. I've separated them out into themed weeks, just because I thought that would be fun. The themed weeks are: Family, Other Ships, Angst and Smut, and Countdown to Halloween!

All fics will be posted to AO3, and I will edit this post to add the link to each new fic as the challenge goes on. As always, please read the tags, summary, etc. because the ratings and content will vary.

Family Week

Prompt 1: Witch - You Look Bewitching - Rated G; 2,042 words; SamBucky and Sarah Wilson/Original Male Character

Prompt 2: Corn Maze - It's That Obvious - Rated G; 2,284 words; SamBucky

Prompt 3: Best Halloween Candy - The Candy Market - Rated G; 1,671 words; SamBucky

Prompt 4: Creepy Object - The Not Fun Scary - Rated T; 3,383 words; SamBucky

Prompt 5: Making Costumes - Con Crunch - Unrated; Incomplete Multichapter; SamBucky

Prompt 6: A Spell - To Make Love Happen - Rated T, 3,504 words; SamBucky

Prompt 7: Making Decorations - Warmth That Lingers - Rated G; 730 words; SamBucky

Prompt 8: Treats - Revenge Is Sweet, but Maybe You're Sweeter - Rated G; 3,982 words; SamBucky and Sarah Wilson/Original Female Character

Other Ships Week

Prompt 9: Trick-or-Treating - A Daring Knight, a Brave Bard, and a Hapless Prince - Rated T; 1,650 words; Kate/Yelena/Joaquín and SamBucky

Prompt 10: Spiders - Irrational - Rated G; 988 words; Sharon Carter/Joaquín Torres

Prompt 11: Group Costume - Ruby Red - Rated T; Incomplete Multichapter; SamSteve and SamNatasha and SamBucky

Prompt 12: Ghost - To Love Is to Live - Rated T; Incomplete Multichapter; Kate/Yelena/Joaquín

Prompt 13: Haunted House - First Date - Rated T; 1,906 words; Shang-Chi/Joaquín

Prompt 14: Funny Costume - Getting Back at Bucky - Rated T; 1,922 words; Kate/Yelena/Joaquín and minor SamBucky

Angst and Smut Week

Prompt 15: Contacting the Dead - Best Friend's Opinion - Rated T; 4,561 words; SamBucky and ambiguous relationship Sam&/Riley

Prompt 16: Graveyard - In Memoriam - Rated T; 3,130 words; SamBucky

Prompt 17: Cursed Object - Finish the Last Chapter, Start a New Story - Rated T; 1,899 words; SamBucky

Prompt 18: Zombie - Until the End - Rated T; 4,471 words; SamBucky

Prompt 19: Darkness - The Good Part - Rated E; 3,197 words; SamBucky

Prompt 20: Vampire - Stay for Dinner - Rated E; Incomplete Multichapter; SamBucky

Prompt 21: Sexy Costume - May the Sunlight Shine on Me - Rated E; 3,462 words; SamBucky

Countdown to Halloween

Prompt 22: Decorating the House/Yard - Something Special - Rated G; 1,817 words; SamBucky

Prompt 23: Halloween Scavenger Hunt - When They Look Back, Will They Call This Their First Date? - Rated G; 4,379 words; SamBucky

Prompt 24: Fortune Teller - If It's in the Cards... - Rated G; 2,657 words; SamBucky

Prompt 25: Scary Movies - Cuddles and Coziness, Being Together - Rated G; 1,151 words; SamBucky

Prompt 26: Pumpkin Carving - The Avengers' First Annual Pumpkin Carving Contest - Rated G; 1,314 words; SamBucky

Prompt 27: Werewolf - I'd Love You in Any Form - Rated T; 3,544 words; SamBucky

Prompt 28: Fall Festival - Birds and Butterflies - Rated T; 8,554 words; SamBucky

Prompt 29: Pumpkin Patch - Just a Couple of Guys, Going to a Pumpkin Patch - Rated G; 1,658 words; SamBucky

Prompt 30: - Ghost Story - Do You Believe? - Rated T; 2,574 words; SamBucky

Prompt 31: Halloween Party - Say Yes - Rated G; 1,703 words; SamBucky

And, just like that, we're done!! Thank you to everyone who read along, commented, left kudos, and sent me encouragement in any form along the way! It has been a joy to share these fics with all of you, and I'm so happy that we've made it to the end! I will be taking a rest for the first week of November, but expect updates to the multichapter fics in this list throughout November, possibly into December? Idk, we'll get them updated and shared with you dears. Thank you again so much for reading and enjoying this Advent Event of mine! Have a happy and safe and wonderful Halloween!

#my fanfic

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thedemoninme141 · 27 days ago

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Her Heartbeat, Chapter 13: Her Warmth.

Summary: You found the warmth you needed in Wednesday's cold hands.

Warnings: EmotionalOutOfCharacterWednesday!

Chapter 1 ------- Previous Chapter

Her Heartbeat's Chapterlist.

Worklist

She remembers moments that led to this...

Wednesday had led you into the dense, shadowed embrace of the woods. There was a little visibility because of the moonlight but still if it weren't for Wednesday you surely would've tripped over a dozen times.

She was tense. You could feel it, the stiffness in her otherwise smooth, confident movements. It was almost as though she was holding something back, though she’d likely sooner eat cotton candy than admit it. Your curiosity finally began to swell. “Wednesday—where are we going?”

“Somewhere that requires more trust than usual,” she said simply, as if that answered everything.

A soft laugh slipped out. “You make that sound dangerous.”

“Most worthwhile things are.”

Of course, she wasn’t going to reveal anything more. With a quiet smile, you let her guide you forward, trusting her as you always had.

You’d walked through woods like these with her before, with a very drunk Wednesday... you smiled at the memory.

And suddenly she stopped and asked, “Do you trust me?”

You blinked at the back of her head, her question hanging there like a dare. You could feel her looking at you, even without turning around.

“With my life?” You let a small laugh escape, raising an eyebrow. “Not in a million years.”

Wednesday turned to you with that characteristic, faintly wicked smirk. “Good,” she said. “Now, stay still.”

Before you could question it, she slipped behind you, and you felt her cool hands slide a soft fabric over your eyes.

“A blindfold?” you asked, trying not to sound too intrigued.

“Yes. Do you have a problem with blindfolds?" She asked, just to be sure.

"No, but..."

She interrupted you, "Try not to resist then, or it’ll only make this unnecessarily complicated.” Her voice was calm, a note of teasing warmth only you can sense under her usual deadpan tone.

You sighed, accepting the darkness as the blindfold tightened around your eyes. “Is it too much to ask what you’re planning?”

“Certainly not,” she said, “But that doesn’t mean I’ll answer.”

Her fingers found yours again, leading you forward with steps sure enough to make you believe that she knew every root, every dip in the earth by memory alone. With no sight to guide you, all you had was her hand, her touch... the warmth in her cold and that felt... enough.

After a minute or two, she stopped. “Take off the blindfold,” she instructed, her voice carrying a strange warmth.

With hands trembling from a mixture of curiosity and excitement, you reached up and untied the knot. The blindfold slipped free, and you blinked as your eyes adjusted to the soft, muted glow of your surroundings.

And then… you saw her.

Wednesday stood before you, her figure almost haloed by the soft glow of countless fireflies flickering behind her, a darkness draped in a sea of golden light, a dark angel working as the light source in your life.

Your breath caught at the sight. You recognized the trees: sycamores and beeches, trees where fireflies gathered in masses. Tiny lights illuminate everything. Each flicker was a breath, each glow a heartbeat.

“Wednesday…” you murmured, feeling words fail as you tried to take it all in.

“Say something useful,” she said with a dry smirk, though her eyes never left yours, and you swore you saw something like nervousness flicker in them.

“How…” you began, glancing around, feeling the awe press against your ribs, “how did you even do this?"

"Eugene’s assistance, of course. And a botanist who needed some… persuasion.” Her voice lingered on that last word.

"You… persuaded them?" You raised an eyebrow, picturing just what ‘persuasion’ might mean in Wednesday’s world.

"Strongly suggested would be more accurate," she replied, folding her arms. "The botanist was reluctant to part with the growth serum I needed for the trees, so I may have… enlightened them on the consequences of resistance." There was a glint in her eye that made you grin.

This was Wednesday Addams, the girl who hid in shadows and looked upon emotions as her sworn enemy. Yet here she was, going against everything she believed, just for you.

“So,” Wednesday interrupted the silence, breaking you out of your reverie, “Are you here just to stand around in awe, or are you planning to catch one?"

Her words snapped you out of your reverie, and a laugh bubbled up as you reached out with cautious hands, moving slowly, carefully, as though the fireflies might shatter like glass. You giggled as you reached out, careful not to frighten them, yet every attempt seemed to end in the same way: the fireflies evaded your touch, dancing just out of your grasp, like tiny stars you couldn’t quite reach. You couldn’t help but laugh at yourself, feeling joyously foolish and childlike, delighted by the chase.

From where Wednesday stood, her expression softened, her usual stoic look melting just a touch. For once, she didn’t try to stifle the emotions as they bubbled up within her, refusing to stay in their neatly controlled compartments.

Her gaze held fast to you, entranced by the sight of you reaching for fireflies so gently as if they would shatter by your touch. She couldn't quite explain it, the way she felt watching you try to catch the tiny creatures, laughing softly each time they evaded your grasp. It was such a simple thing, childish almost, but for her, it was as though someone had breathed color into her gray-tinted world. For once in her entire life, Wednesday felt it, without touching her chest, she felt it... her heartbeat.

You reached out again, more intent this time, but the fireflies seemed to slip through your fingers with each gentle swipe. Your brow furrowed, your cheeks flushed from the failed attempts, but you continued, laughing even as you stumbled. She almost rolled her eyes but found herself unable to look away. Watching you fumble, watching the playful smile that didn’t leave your face, Wednesday felt… enchanted. She wasn’t one for grand displays or sweeping romance—genuine emotion had always seemed a weakness. But here, surrounded by the glow of the fireflies, she felt something much harder to ignore.

Finally, she let out a small sigh, more amused than exasperated, and stepped forward. Her movements were quiet, smooth. You didn’t even hear her come up beside you until she spoke,

"Clearly, this is beyond your abilities." She offered you a smirk as she brushed past, positioning herself with swift precision. "Let me show you how it’s done."

Wednesday extended her hand, fingers steady, eyes focused. She caught knives midair without blinking, so this was nothing more than child’s play.

In one swift motion, she captured a firefly between her hands, holding it carefully as it tried to escape for a bit before sitting on the skin of her palm.

You’d stopped moving, your eyes fixed on her with a glimmer of something she couldn’t quite place—concern? Fear?

For a moment, she felt confused. Then it dawned on her: you were worried that she might have hurt it, that her firm grip might have snuffed out its fragile light. It's just a firefly. It barely lives for a few months, and yet… you care for them so much.

She extended her hand toward you, fingers slowly opening to reveal the creature resting against her palm, unharmed.

As she held her hand out, waiting for you to take it, she felt something warm, a strange but pleasant ache that lingered in her chest as she met your gaze. She wanted you to see this side of her, to know that she understood, even in her own peculiar way, that she could care too.

You cupped your hands beneath hers, creating a cradle for the tiny life she’d captured just for you. And when she tipped her hand, letting it fall into yours, her pulse quickened, a feeling she’d never been able to rationalize nor escape when she was near you but she had gotten used to it... addicted to it.

Watching the firefly in your hands, seeing the quiet glow reflected in your wide-eyed gaze, she felt a strange pride swell in her but the way you looked at her with admiration, as though she’d just handed you a miracle. And maybe, in a way, she had.

She remembers moments that led to this...

The day after the firefly night, Wednesday found herself walking alongside you through the quad as always. You were laughing at something she had said. Wednesday fought the urge to avert her gaze. The problem with emotions, she decided, was their unsettling ability to turn an ordinary scene into a slow-burning chaos.

"Did you… enjoy yourself last night?" she asked, her voice sharper than she intended.

Your smile softened. "You really have to ask that?"

“Perhaps I do,” she replied, unwilling to let her guarded expression falter, even under your warm gaze.

Your laughter rang again, low and sweet, filling the morning air. “If you keep making things like that happen, Wednesday Addams, I’m not going to want to leave your side.”

Even if Wednesday isn't sure if you have a choice in that matter, she is sure about one thing, she is not going to let you leave her side.

The month passed in a haze for Wednesday... and for you too.

She remembers moments that led to this...

“Wednesday!” you greeted, your smile both her undoing and her savior.

She looked from you to Enid who was literally jumping beside you.

“To what do I owe this unwelcome ambush?”

Enid beamed, “We’re going shopping! For the Raven!”

“And you’re invited to come with us!” you added, “You know… just to, uh, join us for moral support?”

Wednesday’s face didn’t even shift. “I already have a dress,” she replied coolly. “From last year. My attendance is unnecessary.”

Enid exchanged a look with you, and Wednesday could practically see the cogs turning in your head. The thought of you talking about her, of you planning this invitation, had her feeling far more unsteady than she’d care to admit.

“Oh, come on,” Enid pouted. “It’s a fun thing to do together! Bonding! Team spirit! Girls' day out!”

Wednesday crossed her arms, “If I attended every 'girl day out' you suggested, I’d be disentitled from the Addams family heritage.”

With a resigned chuckle, you patted her arm, smiling. “Fine, fine.” You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice. “But you’re missing out.”

Wednesday’s skin prickled, a warmth rising as your words hovered in the air between you. She shrugged it off, watching you and Enid leave.

Her heart pounded a little harder as she wondered what you would find in that shop. What sort of gown would catch your eye? How you would look? She almost cursed herself for refusing.

"It can just be ‘this’ till we enjoy each other’s company." You had said. She remembers it clearly. And she also remembers that day too when Enid's unnecessary questions lit a spark in her mind about... this.

“Hey, Wednesday!” Enid piped up, a smirk playing on her lips. “You’re going with her to the dance, right?”

“Yes,” Wednesday replied flatly, hoping this would end the conversation. But Enid’s smirk only widened.

“Gotta say, I didn’t see that coming,” Enid said.

Wednesday shifted, her fingers tapping the desk absently. “It’s… logistical. Nothing more.”

“Uh-huh, logistics,” Enid teased, her grin barely contained. “So...you guys aren’t…?”

“Enid,” Wednesday snapped, “Your fascination with this topic is bordering on unnecessary.”

“Whoa, I’m just saying,” Enid replied, hands up in surrender, “it’s fine to like someone, Wednesday.”

Wednesday’s eyes narrowed, but her cheeks were warm. She stared resolutely at the wall, hating how her own pulse betrayed her. “I don’t ‘like’ her. The feeling is irrelevant.”

"Sure, you don't" Enid smirked glancing at Thing.

The next day Wednesday returned to her dorm, glad to be alone because Enid went to Yoko's room for the night. She shut the door behind her and turned to find something unexpected lying on her bed.

A dress. Black, obviously. It was different though it was elegant, it still was... different...

Bizarre she would say... just like her.

A note was left on the dress.

"Since I’m not sure what you’re hiding in your closet, here’s a backup for the Raven. Figured you’d prefer having an option without dust"

And so she remembers moments that led to this... the Raven night, her waiting outside your door right after she knocked exactly three times...

She doesn't understand what is happening, why does it feel so warm, so weird? Why did this feel so strange? What was happening to her pulse, her breathing, her heartbeat...

And then—finally—the door opened.

[Author's note: Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter]

NEXT CHAPTER

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mellowsadistic · 9 months ago

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The Magician's Game - Chapter 13

Becky’s New Life

Becky awoke from her midafternoon nap, and was immediately assaulted by the strong smell of baby powder, pee, and something yuckier. Every time she woke up, she prayed that everything she’d gone through with the Magician had all been some terrible dream, but when she opened her eyes, it was to see the white bars of her crib in front of her face, and the daycare’s naptime room beyond. It was a sight she’d become very familiar with over the last few months.

She got to her hands and knees, her bare breasts dangling beneath her, and felt her diaper droop heavily between her legs, almost brushing the plastic mattress cover of her cot. She screwed up her face in disgust and shame. She felt as though she was trapped in a nightmare. This was who she was now; an overgrown baby who filled her nappies in her sleep like a one-year-old. It wasn’t the first time it had happened. In fact, some of her former colleagues at the daycare had even made sure to capture it on video, so they could force her to watch her sleeping self lift her bottom into the air and start packing her oversized Pampers while they tittered. None of them liked her – they remembered how dismissive she’d been of their careers, the ones for whom it was more than just a Summer job, and how haughty and harsh she’d been with the children. In their minds, she was getting exactly what she deserved.

Becky got awkwardly to her feet, seething with anger. She hated all of them! How dare those stupid bitches treat her like this just because she hadn’t wanted to spend the rest of her life wiping poopy bottoms! Tears welled up in her eyes. At least it would’ve been better than spending her days getting her own poopy bottom wiped by somebody else… Even after months in diapers, she still hadn’t got used to them. She was starting to think she never would.

One of the daycare staff came over once they saw her standing up in her crib. Erica. Becky felt her spirits sink even lower. They were around the same age, and they’d hated each other when they’d been colleagues. Erica was nothing short of delighted at Becky’s fate. “Finally up from your nap, hmm?” she smirked. “We thought you might stay asleep all day, Beckers! It’s one of your favourite things to do now, isn’t it? Napping? Right up there with going to the toilet in your pants.”

Becky clenched her fists in fury, but did her best to keep her expression blank. She was desperate to get out of her messy nappy, and Erica wouldn’t change her if she was rude. “Please…” she began, but then she saw Erica’s raised eyebrows and realised her mistake. “I mean, pwease Miss Ewica! Baby Becky made a boom-boom! Can I have a clean nappy to poop in?”

Erica laughed nastily. “Oh no, Becky-poo, I don’t think so,” she cooed, her eyes glinting maliciously. “That was very cute, but you’ve only just made a stinky while you were napping! That diapee can hold an awful lot more. What was it you always said? What’s the point in changing the little brats when they’re just going to crap their pants again in a few minutes anyway?”

Becky whimpered.

“Come on, baby-butt,” Erica said, lifting her out of the crib with a grunt of effort and carrying her out of the naptime room and over to a corner where all the daycare’s other charges, her equals, were playing with blocks and dolls and toy cars and stuffed animals. “It’s playtime now,” said Erica. “You can have a nappy change later.” She plopped Becky down on her full diaper, making her groan in disgust.

Another daycare worker came over, a slightly older woman. Harriet was kinder than Erica, but she was no less pleased by where Becky had ended up. She looked down at the twenty-year-old woman on the floor with a patronising smile. “I see this little one’s done naptime potty-poos!” she chuckled. “You’re such a little stinker, aren’t you Becky?”

“Yes, Miss Hawwiet,” Becky lisped. She didn’t have much choice but to answer. Ignoring their questions was the fastest way to earn her a red bottom. The daycare didn’t normally allow corporal punishment, but they made a special exception for her, and most of the staff were constantly looking for any excuse to take her over their knees and spank her to tears. She didn’t know who was worse; Erica, who taunted her constantly about how far she’d fallen, or Harriet, who treated her like she really was just a silly little two-year-old.

Becky played with the stupid toys for what felt ages, closely supervised by Harriet, doing her best to keep her mind off the load in her pants. At last, lunchtime came around. The horrible baby food was nothing to look forward to, but at least it was a break from the monotony of playing with mind-numbing baby toys, and every second was a step closer to getting out of her messy nappy. Harriet led her over to a row of highchairs on one side of the room, where she was lifted up and crammed into the seat.

“Miss Hawwiet, pwease can I have-” she began, but Harriet interrupted her, anticipating her question.

“You can have a change after num-nums, Becky,” she said firmly.

Becky hung her head meekly and allowed herself to be fed spoonful after spoonful of mashed up peas and carrots.

“There’s a good girl!” Harriet cooed in a high-pitched, stomach-churning baby voice. “That’s a good baby! Little miss stinky-bum loves her nummy-nums, doesn’t she? Yes she does! Yes she does!”

Once she’d gone through several jars of baby food, the nipple of a large bottle was popped into her mouth, and Becky started guzzling down the milk within. Harriet held her bottle for her – she was considered far too immature to do it by herself. She hadn’t even held a knife and fork in months, not that they would have been much use to her when all her food went through a blender before it touched her lips.

Becky was halfway through her bottle when she started to wet herself. Instinctively she tried to clamp down on the flow, hoping that this time, somehow, her continence might have returned. But nothing happened. Warm pee soaked her already wet naptime diaper. Her oversized Pampers were now full of so much wee-wee that she could feel it pooling beneath her, unable to be absorbed by the thoroughly sodden padding. It felt almost as bad as the disgusting mess squishing against her bottom.

Finally, with her stomach full to burst with baby food and formula, Becky finished her lunch. Harriet lifted her out of her highchair and carried her over to one of the many changing tables that lined one wall of the room. “Erica!” she called, depositing Becky on the changing table. “Would you mind changing Becky’s nappy? I need to see to the other babies.”

“No problem!” Erica called back. She came over with a sneer on her face. “Hi, Becky-wecky,” she taunted, once Harriet had left. “Somebody definitely needs a diapee change,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “What a yucky little girl you are, Becky! Always pooping your pants. You used to hate changing messy nappies so much. How does it feel wearing them yourself, knowing that you’ll never use a toilet again?”

Becky couldn’t look her in the eyes. She could feel tears welling up inside them.

Erica pushed her onto her back and started undoing the tapes of her diaper. She gave the front a quick little rub as she did so. “Crinkle, crinkle!” she teased. “Do you remember what it was like to have a man touch you down here?” She laughed. “Do you even remember what it was like to wear panties? You are quite pretty – I bet you had no trouble getting guys. But those days are over now, aren’t they Becky? No more boyfriends for you. The best you can hope is for a handsome daycare worker to change you!”

Becky started to cry.

“Awww,” cooed Erica, her tone mockingly sweet. “Poor wittle thing. Does baby Becky-wecky miss being a gwown-up? Does she miss wearing big girl clothes and eating adult food and having people talk to her like she’d not two years old? Does she wish she could use the potty again instead of doing all her pee-pees and poo-poos in her pants?”

Becky cried even harder, until Erica took a large pink dummy out of her apron pocket and shoved it into her mouth.

“There we go!” she said happily. “That will shut the baby up.” Then she pulled down the front of Becky’s nappy and lifted her legs into the air by her ankles. “This is where you belong, Becky,” she said, wiping at the woman’s messy bottom with one wet wipe after another. “On your back, legs up, getting your dirty diaper changed. I can’t think of a more perfect way for you to spend your life!”

Becky wailed like an infant as Erica finished wiping, powdering, and changing her bottom into a clean, dry nappy. Once the final tape was in place, Erica picked her up once again and carried her back through to the naptime room to deposit her in her crib, this time for her afternoon nap.

“Night-night, Becky-poo!” Erica said, patting her firmly on her padded bottom before she left. “See you when you wake up!”

Still sniffling, Becky buried her face in her pillow and quickly felt herself drifting off. She’d taken so many naps now that her body was used to it. Her eyes fluttered shut, and just as she drifted off to sleep, her bowels lurched into life once more, so that she could go through it all again. And again and again and again, until her adult mind finally broke forever, and she was left as a drooling, pants-filling baby for the rest of her days.

#mellowsadistic

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yoonia · 3 months ago

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the bedroom hymns ● chapter xxii

⟶ Chapter summary | Anyone would think you daring to gamble with your life, to keep using the magic doors to escape despite your circumstances. But you cannot help to feel restless, unable to stay still when you still have too many questions to answer, nor when fate keeps pointing a new path for you and doors to enter. So when fate once again points you towards a new door, you cannot resist stepping into the next world, to see what kind of surprises that fate has in store for you.

⟶ Author's note | Forgive me for the delay, but we finally have a new chapter and we'll continue our little adventures. I know I said that I wasn't going to split this part into separate chapters, but after finishing it, the lengthy word count didn't seem fitting for me to post this one as a full piece. I hope the change won't ruin your reading experience! Enjoy reading and have fun!

chapter xxii. serendipity-2

The silence in the hallways of Stargrave feels peculiar today.

The sun is still up. You can hear the palace maids chatting in their break rooms and service halls when you walk past after you are done with your lessons with Lady Laurel at the library, yet you have yet to see any of them walking down the corridors and halls when you make your way through the castle.

Once again, your day was filled with long, exhausting hours of tutoring—hours of reading through a variety of tomes on magic and old folktales of Ancients and Kings—and minor royal duties, which ended only once afternoon comes and your tutors retreated to their quarters. With Lord Gordan once again absent for your afternoon lessons, still busy filling in for His Majesty King Aneas and dealing with the royal duties until the King returns, it leaves your afternoon free of any activities.

But your mind is still too lively for you to retreat into your bedchamber and find a moment to rest. The adrenaline that you felt from the previous days still keeping you high-strung to remain still. So you fill your free time strolling down the hallways of Stargrave, finding some entertainment in memorising the long-winding corridors, mapping out the halls and rooms and the indoor atriums that you walk past just to keep your mind busy.

Normally, you would be spending the time browsing for the magic doors, either finding one that would tempt you into using the magic key to venture through the portal or simply learning more about their characteristics and the secrets behind each door.

But not this time.

Not because you are reluctant, or that you are disinterested in having another journey so soon after the last one you had. But it is because of the lack of privacy you are getting after stepping out of the library.

Aside from your mealtime and the designated time for your daily tutoring sessions, you are rarely escorted by the royal guards. You would usually see them standing in their posts during this time of the day, all staying alert even when there is barely any threat coming to Stargrave.

But today, you have Sir Stephan following you close, watching your every move and making sure to be there while you are making a stroll from one place to another.

“Do you have nothing to do with your time, Sir Stephan?” You finally speak to him after walking in silence together for quite some time with him keeping only a few steps distance behind. “Or do you wish to have another sparring today?”

You hear a soft chuckle from him before he speaks. “Lord Gordan has caught wind of what happened the other day,” Sir Stephan responds with a slight tilt on the corner of his mouth.

You raise your eyebrows as you look at him. “Did he scold you for indulging me?”

“No, Your Highness. He didn’t seem pleased, but—” His lips twitch, as if amused to say, “He seemed oddly intrigued by the news when he learned that you have beaten me during our sword fighting.”

You let out a scoff. “As he should, since he’s been the one training me in place of my father.” Your hand twitches, suddenly aching to have a grip on the hilt of your sword again, to have a grip on something.

You suddenly feel the desire to have your body moving again with another practice. The golden dagger that you had slipped under the skirt of your day dress this morning feels tight against your upper thigh, reminding you that it exists there, even if hidden from sight, ready for you whenever you find the need to pull it out.

And you do have enough free time to mess around with it this afternoon.

Only that your muscles are still aching, caused by the rigorous sparring and the intense fight happening on the same day. The wound from the fight against the guards of Arselon itself has mostly healed—thanks to the medicinal herbs that Gaia pasted on your skin and possibly some kind of remedial spells that she might have slipped in—but the faint scar was still visible when you took off your bandage this morning.

Instinctively, you move your other hand, reaching up to your forearm and pressing against the scar from over the sleeve of your dress. Choosing a long-sleeved day dress this morning raised some questions from the maid assigned to help you this morning, as the weather is quite warm today and she had expected you to request a thinner and shorter dress instead. But you managed to alleviate her worries simply by telling her that you wanted to have a nice change.

The healing scar might be hidden now under your sleeve, yet you can still feel the phantom pain pulsing when you move, reminding you that it would be too soon for you to raise your sword again.

Your arms fall back to your sides as you turn toward a corridor leading to the side courtyard, the sounds of Sir Stephan’s footsteps echoing close as he follows. You take notice of the silence and bring up a different topic to get your mind out of it—of the fight, the scar, and the empty feeling in your hand with nothing to hold.

“It seems that Lord Gordan has been rather busy.”

“He is indeed, Your Highness. The royal duties never stop coming for the royal aide.”

You look over your shoulder, meeting Stephan’s gaze. “And he has since sent you to make sure I’m not causing trouble when he’s not babysitting me? Or is this some sort of a punishment that he has given you for accommodating my actions from yesterday?”

Again, the guard’s lips twitch to a broken smile. “I won’t dare say that the royal aide sees you as a troublemaker, Your Highness.”

Holding back a chuckle, you turn away to continue your stroll, your escort quickly following close behind. “Everyone seems to be busy today, more than other days,” you muse, almost to yourself. “Is something happening?”

“I cannot dare say—”

“Without my guardian’s permission, I take it?” you retort back with another scoff. “Nanny Abigail has been my guardian since I was a wee babe. Well, supposedly older, if I recall correctly. And she has always been open to me about the business with the empire, no matter what it is,” you find yourself sharing a bit of yourself before you can stop it, before glancing back at your guard again. “I assume that Lord Gordan has taken over the duty under the King’s order? Seems like he’s doing things differently when it comes to sharing information about the happenings in the empire.”

It makes you feel bitter just thinking about it. You have always hated being kept in the dark about certain things. Including all the things that should have mattered to you. And you will surely hate it should you be placed in such position once again.

Sir Stephan takes a moment to consider his response, which only confirms your suspicion. “It has been officially passed on to the palace staff that you are currently under Lord Gordan’s guardianship, though Lady Abigail still retains her role as your governess,” he carefully explains instead of giving you a direct answer. “If there’s any news that may involve your wellbeing and your duties in the palace, I am sure that either the royal aide or the Governess will inform you themselves.”

Sighing, you can only nod. You keep your eyes looking towards the courtyard for a moment before smiling at him. “And until then, you’re going to have to remain patient as my babysitter?”

This time, when you turn to look at your guard again, he makes no effort to hide his amused smile. “I wouldn’t mind it.”

Closing your eyes, you tilt your head up, relishing the warm late afternoon sunlight falling on your face.

This is quite a nice change, you wonder with a grateful sigh.

After your previous trips, where you were taken to sacred places where you were met only with twilight and dim grey of sunlight, having this kind of warmth blanketing your skin and being surrounded by all the radiant colours spreading around you feels like a nice treat to enjoy.

Having an adrenaline rush flowing through your blood may have alleviated this feeling too. A mixed sense of thrill and relief that you had gotten after fate gave you the chance to slip away from your temporary shadow of a guard.

Any hope you had for being able to find the time and a chance to escape so you could travel today had started to dwindle, when Sir Stephan continued to follow you, shadowing your movements. Even when it was obvious that you had simply been walking down the long hallways and quiet corridors of Stargrave with no obvious direction, the guard was relentless.

He only kept quiet, letting you continue exhausting yourself for quite some time. Barring you from entering the hallway where the magic doors were located so you could slip away to a different part of the realm. Until fate intervened.

Another guard came in just when you were about to give up. Announcing that Lord Gordan had summoned Sir Stephan to come and meet the royal aide in his office. Not expecting the sudden change of duty, Sir Stephan looked hesitant about stepping away, while you couldn’t have been more eager to relieve him from his duty before he could even get a word in.

“I should at least walk you back towards your bedchamber,” he said before he departed. You may have only known him for a short time, but it was quite obvious that he was displeased to know that he was being let go from his post.

You held back a smile as you teased him, “To make sure that I won’t escape and cause some trouble?” From the corner of your eyes, you could see the other guard widening his eyes. He seemed baffled as he looked back and forth between you and his fellow knightly guard, amused to see the other guard bantering smoothly with their princess.

Sir Stephan’s lips quirked to a grin. “Just making sure that you’ll be safe without an escort,” he said, stressing out his words as he regarded you with, “Your Highness.”

“I’ll be safe between these walls. My bedchamber is merely a hall away,” you answered him by tilting your chin towards the small connecting hall leading you towards the West Tower. “It seems that your business with Lord Gordan is more urgent than sending me off to my afternoon nap.”

Sir Stephan said nothing to respond, but the way his gaze flickered towards the next hall was sharp and quick, and you could tell that he had to hold back. A lot. Keeping his words to himself, the guard merely nodded and bowed.

“Then I shall take my leave,” he said. “I shall inform the royal aide that you are on your way to your quarter.”

You returned his bow with a nod and turned away before he could say anything else. And you kept on walking towards the next corridor, listening closely to the sound of their footsteps as they walked the opposite way. Only once you were sure they were no longer in sight, you quickly turned to a different hall to begin your afternoon exploits.

You walked through some more corridors and then headed down some stairs, finding yourself in the Apex Hall connecting the center palace and the tower housing the king’s chambers, where lines and lines of doors appeared before your eyes. The hall was devoid of any form of activities, as there were only guest bedrooms and galleries for royal guests available in this part of the castle. But after going through a royal guest room the one time to find your way to Aeris, you were curious to see if you could find any portals hidden among these doors that would be able to lead you to places similar to the mage city.

Places that wouldn’t be as daunting and gloomy as the previous places you’ve recently been to, that aren’t as dilapidated from hardships or haunted by their dark history.

The ground floor hall was filled with charming things, trinkets and decorations that made the place look even more alive than the other parts of Stargrave; royal portraits of who you assumed to be your ancestors or the previous kings and queens; sculptures and vases filled with fresh flowers; tables similar yet smaller to the ones you saw in guest rooms, all carved similarly to the ornate doors standing all round the atrium.

You walked up some steps and stood by one of those doors which had caught your attention among others. Made of old cherrywood—much like these other doors, only slightly darker—with carvings of tendrils of ivy looping around its frame, the door had a delicate charm which was alluring to look at.

It was the image carved at the center which had mostly drawn you to it; the carving of a chalice and crescent moon, similar to the image painted on the banners you saw at the temple of Arselon.

The only difference you saw was that the crescent moon wasn’t hovering above the chalice but instead carved within its core, as if it was portraying the moon as being presented like fine and holy wine.

The grooves around the carvings were filled with threads of silver lining, glinting under the dim light of the afternoon which penetrated through the glass windows under the arch ceiling above your head. Silver dust floated from the keyhole as you pulled out your magic key, beckoning you to reach it.

The same silver dust seems to have followed you to this place, floating in the air where the streaks of sunlight are falling, floating above the lake filled with crystal-clear waters vastly spreading before you, and between your fingers when you reach out to touch the vibrant petals of the wild roses growing all around you.

There is magic here, pulsing in the same rhythm as your heartbeat as if living and breathing. Strange how it makes you feel like you have become one with the place, and you barely spent more than an hour strolling across the grassy plains.

A spread of green grass as thick as the rugs you find back at the palace lies beneath your feet. Your low heels sink into the soft grass with each step you take, yet you find no discomfort as you continue to stroll down the small forested hill where you had emerged from. Excitedly, but cautiously at the same time, you cross the meadow with your eyes drawn towards the glittering lake.

Beautiful, you wonder to yourself. And it feels so peaceful here.

You look at your surroundings, enjoying the scenery that is presented for you to see. All around you, there are only trees, spreading all around and to the top of the hill. A myriad of colours appear before you as the shades of yellow and beige and brown are mixing into the green as they grow from the trees, a sign that autumn is seeping in. Some leaves have also dropped onto the ground, covering the green grass with yellow dots sprouting here and there among the vibrant roses. The air is fresh, filled with the scent of fresh grass and damp soil. A cool breeze flows all around you, and the warm sun feels comforting against your skin.

Looking over across the lake, you see no sign of a town or anything that may indicate the presence of humans. But the more you look, the more you are curious, seeing that the trees on the other side of the lake appear to be bigger, stretching up to reach the sky, and thicker. The foliage seems denser, enough to hide something in the shadows.

Just like the grove back in Arselon which kept the Keep and the shelters where the humans lived in hiding.

You continue to stroll around the lake, hoping to find a way to get across and see if you can find anything on the other side. Once again, fate seems to be on your side—or perhaps you are just getting lucky today—as you find your wish fulfilled the moment you see the bridge crossing the lake.

Without any hesitation, you walk up to make it across. From up the bridge, you find the chance to fully marvel at the nature around you as you get a better view of everything. And you cannot help but marvel at the structure stretching over the lake, connecting the two separate plains together.

The sturdy bridge rises from the lake, standing firm from one end of the woodlands to another and high above the water like a solid gate. The structure is built with weathered stones, the foundation below covered with moss and lichen, adding a touch of green to the grey and brown. Thick ivy weaves its way along the stone bannister, softening the hard edges with its delicate tendrils. Looking down to the body of the bridge below, you see arches formed high enough to allow small boats to come passing through.

On the top, the bridge’s width is enough for a single horse carriage to travel across, while the passage is covered with natural stones that are smoothed by countless footsteps and slightly etched by marks of wheels from carriages that may have come across from time to time. It’s obvious that this isn’t some simple structure that manifested itself from nature, nor was it built by lesser beings. Although the earthly colours do make it seem like the bridge has blended into the nature it is built on, causing you to nearly miss it the first time you looked.

Halfway across the bridge, a gentle breeze flows around you, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth, and something more succulent and vibrant and fresh, a different vibe from the quiet woodlands you had just stepped away from. Slowly, you come to a halt, taking this moment to take another look at the lake as you get to see it from a different angle.

From up here, it seems as if the lake is stretched out endlessly, its surface is clear like crystals, with the glimmers coming from the silver specks of dust and the reflection of the warm sunlight glowing all the way up to your skin. Small ripples disturb the mirror-like stillness, appearing in multiple spots where you think you might find fishes swimming beneath the surface or leaves falling from above.

Smiling, you take a deep breath, taking in the scents before continuing your journey across. At the end of the bridge, a canopy of leaves welcomes you as thick branches appear to be growing and stretching low, covering what is hidden on the other side. You keep your eyes forward as you step off the bridge, and the moment your heel lands on the less solid gravel pathway, the air around you seems to ripple and shift.

With a gasp, you feel a rush of magic coursing through your body. It doesn’t feel painful, yet strange enough to make your head spin a little before you finally regain your bearings. Only a short moment later do you finally realise that you have just walked across what seems to be a border, where a protective spell has been cast to cover the land before you. With a jolt, you realise that your arrival has somehow disturbed the spell, unlocking the magic to allow you passage to continue your journey.

Still reeling over your sudden encounter with a foreign magic spell, you continue walking down the gravel-covered pathway without a word. The sparks from the magic cling to your skin for a moment longer before it slowly wanes as you walk deeper into the thickets, clearing your senses just as the low branches in front of you begin to sway.

The movement is quick, as if they are suddenly forced to hold some kind of weight. As the rustling sound of leaves begins to grow violent, its shaking sends drying leaves falling down your path, your steps falter until you completely stop.

The swaying of branches intensifies, and before you can even reach your dagger to protect yourself, something pops between the leaves.

“Hello!”

A small, cheerful voice greets you, coming from a creature that is just as small—tiny face, tiny smile, with a pair of pointy ears that remind you of the elves, yet a version of it which is probably merely a palm-sized big—hanging upside down from the low branch hanging right in front of your face. Only once your shock subsides when you recognise what kind of being is greeting you from behind the leaves.

A pixie.

A smile grows on your lips. You have learned about them—the pixies—through one of the books in the library that Lady Laurel made you read. The Magnificent Beings of The Elements.

In the book, the pixies have drawn your interest more than others. Known as little magical creatures that hide in the woodlands, the pixies were treated almost like dragons—mythical beings that are rare but most sought after. They are known to create the magical element, the pixie dust, which has a myriad of effects which are valuable to many.

To nature, pixie dust helps cast magic into the land—helping plants to grow more affluent and flowers to bloom more vibrant, for water to be cleansed of any toxin or grime, and for the air to remain fresh even in the bleakest of weather.

To other beings, pixie dust can be used as a cure for ailments, to heal physical wounds, and to alleviate the ailment of the mind.

But for most humans, pixie dust can act like a drug, giving them psychedelic sensations and causing them to feel high and happy and filled with joy or to have intense hallucinations.

For these reasons, the pixies were once hunted down, captured and sold as pets as part of illegal trade, to be made into house slaves, or to be used to create as many pixie dust to be sold illegally in the black markets as drugs that humans can use to get high. That was until the protection law for magical beings changed, forbidding any form of trading involving the pixies and other mythical creatures of the fairy tale land. They have since been declared as one of the most protected creatures, mostly hidden in sanctuaries that were built on higher grounds, up in the mountains, and the deepest woodlands.

“Oh, hello there. I didn’t see you up there,” you greet them back, smiling, and you can see the creature’s smile widening further.

“Of course, you didn’t. You weren’t supposed to,” the pixie pridefully boasts, before flipping back into the leaves and jumping into another branch, this time sitting down with their legs swaying beneath them.

“But we’ve seen you,” the tiny thing adds, while you tilt your head, wondering what they meant.

“Have we met before?”

The pixie excitedly nods, throwing the short strands of their honey-blond hair up and down their face. “We work with our master, Trish, at the magic shop in Aeris. We helped Master find some spell book for ‘ya.”

Blinking, you suddenly remember the day you spent in Aeris. And then you remember entering the magic shop—l'Équinoxe—and the female elf who was running it, and your eyes grow wide at the memory of seeing tiny pixies jumping between the racks to fetch orders for their customers. Some with their hair pinned or tied up in ponytails, while others wore floppy hats that clung to their heads even as they moved quickly from one corner of the shop to another. And all of them wore the same bright green top and white pants, exactly what your new little friend is wearing right now.

“Of course!” you cheerfully say, clapping your hands when you recall seeing a pixie with honey-blond hair perching atop the bannister on the mezzanine floor above the shop, where the shop owner—Trish—disappeared into to fetch your spell book. “So you were the—staff, in the shop?”

The pixie’s lips curl to a sneaky smile. “We were not taken in to work in the shop as slaves, if that’s what you’re worried about—” the creature says, while you are taken aback and feeling guilty that the pixie can guess what you were thinking, “Trish has helped a lot of us in the sanctuary and when we wanted to do something in return, she gave us the job in her shops. We earn our wages, benefits, and even some vacation time when we need them, just like any other creatures in the mage city.”

“So you mean”—you look around with a new sense of awe—“this is your sanctuary.”

“This is home.” The pixie says, sighing with a content smile on their face. And then their eyes flicker with curiosity as they question you, “So what are you up to in this place?”

The smile that comes to your face is small, but unguarded. It feels refreshing to hear the same question given to you, only without any underlying threat or suspicions this time. For the first time, you aren’t feeling like a criminal for crossing a border to a new land. To be seen as a regular traveller instead of a stranger trespassing into others’ land.

“I was merely passing through,” you answer with a tilt of your head. “I was running away from home because I was having an odd day.”

The pixie snorts. “Odd day isn’t good.” A frown forms on their face as if the thought of you having an unpleasant day is making them unhappy too. “It’s weird that you choose to hide here.”

You shrug. “Why would it be weird?”

Shrugging—the action coming out as a mirror to yours instead of it being something natural for them to do—the tiny thing nonchalantly answers, “Because only elves and fairies can pass through the gates. That was a part of the condition in the protection spell that was given to the sanctuary to protect us from danger.”

Your heart skips a beat. A tiny slip that makes your breath catch, while something starts nagging at the back of your mind. Every single peculiar event that you have encountered before comes rushing back to you; from your previous journeys, from the words shared by the people you met, and the things you inadvertently learned from them—

“But you won’t regret it,” the pixie continues, oblivious to your wandering mind. “There are many things to see here.”

You brush away your thoughts to smile. “Is that so? Then it’s a good thing that I’m here.”

“Do you need a guide? We can show you around. We know every place to see here and where not to go,” the pixie says, jumping up and down on the branch with excitement, as if guiding you through their land seems like some kind of a fun game for them.

Seeing this, and noticing the playful gaze in their eyes, remind you of something about them that you’ve learned from your books that cannot resist teasing, “Will it be okay? Are you sure you wouldn’t trick me into anything nefarious?”

You grin at the pixie while they cock their head to the side, narrowing their eyes at you. Based on the texts you read in the books, their kind is often portrayed to have childlike personalities; mostly friendly and kind-hearted, but other times mischievous and playful, with a bit of naughty nature as they all love to play and have fun.

There were stories written in those books where pixies, who live mostly in the deepest woodlands and higher plains, would come out at night and use their pixie dust to trick travellers and hunters, manipulating their minds with the potent magic of their dust to leave them astray between the woods.

But there were also stories of pixies helping little children in distress, saving them from any kind of peril and guiding them home when they were lost in the woods, making them one of the most contradictory beings among any other mythical creatures you’ve learned about.

The pixie merely rolls their eyes. “We might be naughty bits, but we promised Trish to not cause trouble as long as we live here. We’ve lost our old home a long, long time ago, and we want to keep this one for as long as we’re allowed to.” Their words are filled with grief, yet the way they are talking about it doesn’t show much about their loss, as the tone of their voice remains playful.

As if their mind is already jumping to the next topic, the pixie leans forward with a grin to ask, “What’s your name?”

“I’m ________,” you answer with a smile. “What should I call you?”

“Eydan,” the pixie introduces themselves by standing upright on the branch and bowing down to their waist—like a royal greeting. A wide grin appears on their face when they straighten up again, the strands of their hair flowing with the breeze. “That’s the name. The only pixie here with honey-blond hair”—Eydan flips their hair—”never forget it.”

Y'ethmelle is the name of this place.

A town where elves reside, those with a deep connection to the earth and plants and deep respect for nature. Their home becomes the source of their power, their magic, and it breathes and pulses together with the lives within.

And this place has become the perfect sanctuary for pixies like Eydan, who had once been through the kind of hardship just like what you have read in the books.

While sharing a bit of their past before entering Y'ethmelle, Eydan guides you through the trees, entering the woodlands until you finally get to see it—a town hidden in the forest, blending in with the trees, the boulders, the hills, before rising up the stone wall where water was cascading from the top to the banks below. There are structures built along the thickest giant trees, forming from the ground and up the thick branches were small houses made of timber and glass that look like crystals.

The same structures appear on the stone walls; small wooden houses floating on either side of the waterfall; hanging on top of the massive boulders framing the riverbanks; and some sinking into the foot of the cliff wall. Some houses were built extremely low and just enough for the pixies to reside in, as they blend into the small hills or hidden between the roots of the giant old trees that you saw during your stroll through the magic town.

Eydan points out their home—the one small opening hidden between the roots of a giant elm tree—before pointing to a house built with stone structures at the very end of the tree line. “That’s where Master Trish lives. The pixies that work with her live in small houses like ours, all built close enough to her home, so she can often invite us for dinners and other celebrations when she’s free.”

“Where is your boss now, then?” you ask when you notice that the house is quiet.

Eydan hops from one branch to another, and that is when you realise that the pixie never truly stops moving. They are constantly jumping, hopping and swinging on the branches, rarely ever stepping foot on the ground unless when they are sitting atop a stone.

“At the city. Aeris. She mentioned having some business to take care of at the shop. The shop is closed today, that’s why we’re home,” Eydan explains, “But Master Trish is always working. Even when she’s not busy at the shop, she would be away on trips to gather some new things to sell.”

“Is that why you have enough free time to guide a human across your homeland?”

Eydan grins. “Yes, but it was also an odd day for us.”

“How come?”

Flopping onto a nearby boulder, Eydan stands on one leg, balancing themselves as they answer, “We weren’t supposed to be off work today, but Master Trish suddenly said she had something important to do and people to see, so we were told to stay home. But then we had so much free time that we played all morning, dancing, and jumping around the river, but then we got bored. That’s when you came.”

The pixie flips to balance themselves on their hand when they continue, “Besides, it’s nearly the full moon. Us pixies always grow restless when it is time to celebrate the memorial of our found freedom.”

And that is when Eydan sits you down, sharing with you the tale behind the pixies’ freedom and how they all got to this place.

“Once upon a time, a young pixie managed to escape from their master. Seeking freedom in the woodlands, the pixie hid between the trees, claiming the forest as their new home and shelter and away from dangerous people looking to exploit their magic for nefarious uses.

One night during their hiding, the pixie sensed a human walking through the trees. While staying in the shadows, the pixie cautiously watched the human, thinking that the human had come to harm them. But upon closer look, the pixie found out that the human was just a little girl. A princess who got lost in the woods and couldn’t find her way back home. So the pixie revealed themselves, offering to use their pixie dust to guide the princess to find her way home. Once she was saved, the princess returned to favour by fighting for the freedom of all pixies.”

You listen to their story with a fond smile. Among every single tale you’ve read about the pixies, you have never seen this part of their story written in the books, nor the old scriptures you found in the library which told about old, forgotten tales of The Land Far Far Away.

“That was how we finally got our freedom. All because one pixie escaped their master and became friends with a kind-hearted princess one night. The princess was the one who wrote the law to protect us, to free us from anyone who tried to keep us like pets and slaves.”

Eydan’s eyes glow with pride as they continue with their tale, while your heart feels warm, feeling privileged to be able to hear this story. “Each full moon, pixies gather around the waterfall or any revered places in each of their sanctuary and sing under the moon to pray for the princess. It’s our way to send our gratitude to our saviour.”

Once your new friend is done with their story, the tour around the sanctuary continues.

From the homes, the pixie guides you through the small town, passing some more houses that are intricately built to blend in with nature. They greet some of the elves that come peeking out their windows, introducing you as one of their friends, and then do the same with some other pixies that you come across during your mini tour.

The tour continues until you reach even deeper into the woodlands, past the heart of Y'ethmelle, and past the old structures that look like an old Keep, completed with a tower built in the same weathered stone as the structure of the bridge on the lake.

“This was where the warriors and guardians of the sanctuary used to live. We still have elves that take the role as guardians, but the elves no longer have warriors to guard the place ever since us pixies started living here,” says Eydan, as they guide you to follow the river, going down the stream until you reach the part where it is quiet and peaceful and safe.

This place turns out to be the meeting spot where Eydan would hang out with their little friends, where Eydan had been earlier before meeting you by the bridge.

A few of Eydan’s friends are in the middle of playing down the stream of the river when you arrive. A couple of pixies who look no different than Eydan, hop between boulders and branches while splashing water with their tiny feet, while two others have wings on their back, allowing them to float and soar in the air as they dance between the rosebushes.

At first, they seem cautious, as they probably didn’t expect to have their wayward friend returning with a random human after missing for hours. But right after Eydan finishes introducing you to the little gang of mischievous pixies, they become more curious about you as they start throwing questions at Eydan while examining you closely.

“Where did you find her?”

“You didn’t kidnap her from the human town, did you?”

Eydan huffs. “Of course, not. She came in by herself. Passed the bridge and the borders after the thing we felt earlier,” they explain with their small hands waving around as if describing what they saw.

“Oh, the invisible magic ripple that came from the lake?” asks one of the pixies, surprising you once you realise that they are possibly talking about the ripple of magic coming from the portal when you came.

“You felt a magic ripple?”

Eydan nods. “Yep. It was rare for us to feel any magic of that kind. That’s why we left the others here and went to the bridge to see what it was, and then we saw you walking across the lake.”

The chattering and the line of questions continue right before you get the chance to ask them about what they felt. The other pixies who kept their distance at first soon begin to join in, asking you where you came from, how you managed to find this place, and why would a human like you need a spell book from their master. You barely manage to answer each one before they get distracted when a couple of butterflies come fluttering in between the bushes, and they soon lose any interest in your evasive, non-answering responses.

You join them for a while as they play around the stream. You even take off your heels to splash around in the water, feeling your body cooling down with it. It has been a while since you’ve felt such joy. The pixies are skilled in showing you just how to have fun and enjoy yourself the way they do, helping you forget all of your troubles without them realising it.

Exhausted, you choose to rest at the edge of the river, soaking your bare feet in the stream as you watch the pixies continue to play around, showing no sign of their energy draining. You enjoy the cool ripples of water pressing against your sore ankles, while the stream also washes away the soil tainting the hem of your dress that you had gotten after the long walk you had through the elven town.

Your heels, once covered in mud and slightly tainted from the twigs brushing against their sides, are now resting on the ground beside you after it was cleaned and mended using one of the pixies’ magic dust.

The same pixie is the only one who chooses to stay with you, studying you closely with their curious eyes while ignoring the sound of giggles and cheers from the other pixies playing in the rosebushes.

“You smell like human,” the pixie says as they flutter around you, sniffing at your hair, your back, and then pinching at the sleeve of your dress before going back to your front with a tilt of their head.

“You can—identify a person from their scent?”

Illyn, the pixie with fair skin and long golden hair nods, their delicate wings—which look like firefly wings, with silver dust sparkling from each —flutter behind them as they move around. They have their hair gathered to a braid, long enough to reach their ankles. You wonder if their hair ever gets tangled with the wings, yet the pixie has kept the braid hanging over one shoulder, keeping it away from the fluttering wings.

“Every living thing has a certain smell in them. For walking beings such as yourself, those scents come from blood, skin, soul, or even magic,” Illyn explains with wide, curious eyes, while your eyes grow wide with intrigue.

“Can you smell—my magic?”

Illyn nods as they fly around you. “Yes, we can. It’s faint. That’s why it’s confusing.”

The way they speak draws a soft laughter from you. “Why does it confuse you?”

The pixie makes a humming sound. “You smell human, but also something else. Your magic isn’t like what most humans have, and we’ve met many human mages in Aeris to know the difference.”

You raise your brow. “Really? How odd,” you hum softly, although you have no idea what that really means. You keep your eyes on the pixie as they continue to float around you, their eyes locked on parts of your face, as if searching for something. “So that’s not normal?”

Instead of answering, Illyn inclines their head to ask with a whisper, “Are you sure you aren’t a fairy?”

Hearing this, you begin to laugh. “A fairy? No, I’m pretty sure I would’ve known if I’m secretly a fairy. Why would you even think that?”

“The way you came,” they say, still keeping their voice low as if sharing a secret, “you came with the ripple of magic that we felt from the end of the river. It’s been long since we’ve felt something like that.”

Creasing your brows, you recall the way they talked about the magic flow earlier, remembering how they seemed unsure about what they felt. “And you don’t know what that magic was?”

Illyn fell silent for a moment. “Well, not really, but—” The pixie considers their answer for a moment, thinking deeply before continuing, “There were old folktales about magic portals hidden all over the land of the Far Far Away.”

Their eyes blink rapidly as they add, “Fairy portals.”

Your eyes grow wide. “Have you ever seen them?”

Illyn’s hair nearly flips back when they quickly shake their head. “No, we haven’t. But some naughty ones who went across the bridge claimed they had. We think they all lied to us and exaggerated things, because fairy tales are stories for children.”

Your lips twist to a smile. It is adorable how the pixies believe that they are normal beings, when their existence seems more like a part of a myth. Characters told in children’s bedtime stories and folktales shared by the people—humans—back in the mortal realm.

But then your mind begins to register through the information that Illyn had just shared with you about the magic they felt. You wonder if they had truly sensed the magic coming from the portal. You can still feel it on your skin, lingering like a delicate touch. And if the same magic portal you have been using to go through these various places had truly been the same as the portals known as what they believed as part of the myth among the fairies—

Just like always, when the wheels in your head are turning and you are thinking deeply about something, your hand reach up, taking hold of your necklace that has been humming with its own magic—it has been that way since the moment you stepped through the border, you realise.

Lowering your gaze, you carefully lift the ruby pendant so the pixie can have a look. “Could it be that the magic you are sensing from me actually comes from this?” you ask them, referring to how they claimed to have tried to sense and recognise the magic coming out of you.

Cocking their head, Illyn flies closer. They examine the necklace for a moment before shaking their head. “No, your magic is vibrating from inside you,” they say, before they begin rambling rapidly, “I can sense your mana. It smells a little bit like Master Trish, with a little bit of the magic that felt similar to the one we felt from the woods”—they stop with a gasp—”do you perhaps have elves where you live?”

“I don’t suppose—” You begin to answer, even if your mind can barely keep up with the quick flow of their words.

And then any chance for you to respond to their question is soon stolen when Illyn suddenly turns away, distracted by the sudden shout of their friend coming from a rosebush a few feet away. Soon, the thought of your magic and your smelling of humans is forgotten as they start fussing about a wild rose that seems to have bloomed at the heart of a dying brier. You can faintly hear them cheering at its peculiar size and colour, before they start fighting about how they should be saving it before it withers.

Seems like they have a short attention span, you wonder with a soft chuckle. Just like a child.

You continue to watch them play for a little while until Eydan returns to your side. After chasing off an innocent hummingbird that had appeared from the nearby meadow, the pixie flops down to rest on the boulder next to you, though still restless, their feet kicking out the white mist that is starting to form from the rushing water. The cold that comes as the sun begins descending beyond the trees only causes the mist to grow thicker.

“How come you don’t have wings?” you ask Eydan, pointing at the two pixies who are floating and dancing in the air, laughing as they toss each other around between the rosebushes, having a blast in their wild dance.

Eydan blinks and begins to explain to you the differences between each pixie. “Us pixies gain different characteristics depending on which element our magic comes from. We”—Eydan points at themselves—”and Aela are earth pixies.” You look over at Aela, the auburn-haired pixie who is dancing with the dark-haired pixie who has been mostly silent, and instantly start comparing the two.

While Eydan keeps their hair short, reaching only to their jaw, the other two have long hair—Aela keeps their hair in a thick, high bun which looks like a crown on top of their head, while their dance partner lets their hair down, swaying with them as they dance to some music that only they can hear.

“We live closer to the land, our homes built on the ground, while Illyn and Jolyn are air pixies. They live on trees, the ones that grow close to Master Trish’s home,” Eydan continues, pointing at the two pixies who are flying over the nearest rosebush, their wings fluttering wildly on their backs, picking up speed as they banter loudly with each other, debating about what colour the rose they are pointing is called—maroon red, according to Illyn, while Jolyn insists that it’s the colour of blood.

Just like Illyn, Jolyn’s hair is long, but in the shade of brunette. Unlike the other pixies, Jolyn is the only one with curly hair, and they have kept it untied, leaving it as a mess of wild curls fluttering with the wind as they float around with their little wings.

Eydan points at Aela’s dancing partner next. “Emara is a water pixie. They live near the lake, while their family live by the riverbank. They are good swimmers, always playing with the fish in the summer.”

“That’s interesting,” you muse as you watch them all play together. “I suppose the same can be said about the elves? About how they gain their magic from elements?”

Eydan considers it for a moment in silence, furrowing their brows as they answer, “For the elves that protect us, they do gain powers from elements, but mostly nature. But some types of elves gain power from the moon, giving them similar powers and traits to those of moon fairies.”

“You know,” you gently muse as a thought comes across your mind. “I’ve always assumed that fairies are small creatures just like you are.”

“No, obviously, they’re not,” Eydan says with a scoff. “That’s only true in children's bedtime stories. Perhaps they thought children wouldn’t be interested in fairies if they all knew that fairies look like regular humans—sometimes they even look like ghouls, depending on where they live—so they took our looks instead when they started writing stories about fairies, all to make them presentable and cute for children to love.”

Once you feel rested enough, you cannot resist joining the pixies to play on the grass. Watching them play has been fun, and you want to join in while you still can.

You join them in their little hide-and-seek—mostly as the one seeking—and then let them teach you how to do tricks on the grass. They have you join them in their group dance, following the tune of their music that only they know about. And now you are joining them in a messy game of charades.

You are in the middle of trying to guess what Jolyn is trying to mimic—as the little pixie hides behind a small boulder at the edge of the river and acts as if they are singing in high tune while seducing you to come closer—when all of a sudden, everyone around you grows still.

A gasp comes from Jolyn, the only one facing the opposite way from the others, and the pixies turn to look at the woods behind you. Everyone seems tense and wary that you start feeling worried.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, just as Eydan steps forward, standing right in front of everyone, while the rest gather closer around you.

“There’s another stranger!” One pixie hisses as you try to look beyond the thickets.

You carefully trace the hilt of your dagger with the tip of your fingers. “Are you sensing danger?”

“We’re not smelling danger, but this scent is not familiar to us,” the silent one of the bunch—Emara—speaks. Their voice sounds more like a whisper. But their fear tramples their shyness as they slide closer to hide behind your dress.

For a brief moment, nothing happens.

The darkening sky is also making it hard for you to look beyond the line of trees. You can only faintly see the shadows moving in the forest, yet you are not certain whether you are looking at swaying branches or if it is an actual figure, that something else—or someone—has arrived in the woods and is now moving in the thickets.

The trees sway a little—or perhaps the low branches?—and there are rustling sounds coming together with the heavy sound of boots landing on hard ground, stepping over fallen leaves, as if someone is walking slowly towards you and your little friends. While the pixies remain alert, you can feel a warm hum rising in your chest. A sensation that is quite familiar that every tension in your body is immediately lifted. Your heart thuds, rising slowly with a different kind of feeling that has nothing to do with fear.

There is only one person who can incite such a feeling from you. The one person who has been occupying your thoughts and dreams, even on the days that you spent without him being present. Within moments, he finally emerges from the line of trees, like a piece of a dream emerging into the waking world.

Wearing a white tunic on top of dark trousers, his leather boots sturdy at the bottom, and his half sword hanging from his left hips, Min Yoongi looks just like a prince; a dreamy character plucked out of a fairy tale written in storybooks as he walks into the dim light.

The Prince Charming coming to life.

The length of his hair falls to frame his perfect face, fluttering with the gentle breeze as he slowly comes closer. The urge to pinch at your skin comes over you—because you cannot tell if you are simply dreaming—yet you make no move, too mesmerised by the sight of him.

Because every image of him which you tried to conjure in your thoughts and your dreams didn’t do any justice to the real him.

As Yoongi stops, a smile slowly forms on his face. His eyes, upon finding you, seeing you completely left stunned, seem to glow brighter. A look of mirth dancing in his gaze when he gently greets you,

“There you are, little dove.”

You briefly close your eyes, relishing the shudder that Yoongi’s deep voice brings. This isn’t an imagination and I am not dreaming, you muse to yourself as you open your eyes to see him still standing right before you instead of dispersing with the wind. The white mist forming around the stream close by and from the temperature drop curls around his boots, breaking away when he takes another step closer.

You listen to the sound of your heartbeat for a drop of a moment before finding your voice again.

“You’re late.” Too many long days, three different trips late. “I almost believed that I wouldn’t be so lucky to see you today before I leave.”

Your gaze flickers towards the darkening sky as you say this, noticing how close it is for dusk to come. With merely a short time left to spare, he would have made this the fourth time you would be missing him if he had come once the sunlight was gone.

A painful pinch shoots right through your heart when you take a sharp inhale of breath. You never realised how badly you have been hoping to see him. How you kept wishing that you would cross paths with him again.

You didn’t realise until now, how often you kept looking over your shoulders during your previous excursions, or how you’ve kept your eyes open the entire time with the hope that you would see him again, that he would suddenly appear the way he had done it before. You were starting to lose hope, believing that fate may have decided not to give you another chance to see Yoongi.

As you look up to him again, you are surprised to see a hint of remorse in his eyes. As if he feels the same way as you do.

“I must admit that I was losing hope of seeing you as well,” he gently says. You know you shouldn’t, yet you find how pleasing it is to hear that he is feeling the same.

In your fascination and delight of meeting Yoongi, you fail to realise that your pixie friends—who have remained in their places and have been watching closely at your interaction—have begun to move out of their hiding. Except maybe Emara, who is still clutching at the skirt of your dress, too wary about the other human suddenly interrupting their playtime.

“You’ve made some friends,” Yoongi muses, his gaze softening as he looks at the pixies that are watching him curiously.

You shrug. “I was getting lonely in my travels, since the only one I was expecting to accompany me has been absent,” you tease him with a smile, and for a brief second, Yoongi’s eyes widen at your playful tone, before his own smile grows just as wide.

“Do you know him?” you hear Aela asking you as she flutters by your head, cautiously flying closer. “Is he a friend?” asks Eydan, and you answer them without pulling your gaze away from Yoongi.

“Yes. A good friend.”

Yoongi’s lips quirk to a grin. His eyes move to find Eydan, who is standing right in front of you with their shoulders rising as if to make themselves look bigger. You aren’t too sure if the tiny creature has been trying to protect you, or if they were just too curious to remain hidden, but it is still quite amusing to see them acting tough in front of the newcomer.

Yoongi elaborately bows in front of the curious pixie. “You mustn’t worry about me. My name is Yoongi. I’m also a traveller like _____, and I meant no harm.”

Neither of the pixies says a thing at first, until Emara slips out of your skirt to gingerly say—their voice sounds so gentle it almost fades with the wind, “Well, if _____ trusts you, perhaps we can trust you too.”

Once again, Yoongi bows. The gesture looks perfectly elaborated to make him look like a royal. His gentle smile nearly melts your heart when he answers, “It’s an honour that you would accept me just as much as you have welcomed her into your home.”

66 notes · View notes

takeurexam · 5 months ago

Text

dynasty || masterlist

teaser

genre:

non idol au, time travel, romance, rivals to allies to friends to lovers, crown prince to emperor taehyun, reader gets appointed as an concubine, inspired by korean history

pairings:

taehyun x reader

(warning, this does not reflect the REAL idols personality, and no smut will be written to respect the idol, and i am not comfortable as well, the taehyun in this ff is not the actual taehyun)

summary:

in which you, an excellent law student about to graduate collage suddenly get dragged into the past, meeting the famous-fawned over emperor of the kang's dynansty. but you getting dragged into this mess was beyond a mystery, and it seems like you have something deep to discover. meddling with the past is a risky decision after all.

inspired by korean history and mr. queen so yes, i'll be using korean outfits and the palace will be inspired as well.

❅❆❇❈❉❊❅❆❇❈❉❊❅❆❇❈❉❊❅❆❇❈❉❊❅❆❇❈❉❊

chapters:

[teaser]

𝑻𝒘𝒊𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔

Your life seems to be going well, good grades, graduation, friends, life was going so well. Two days before your graduation, you find yourself in a whirlpool to another era, in where the Kang's lead the country, The Kang Dynasty. Confusion washes you over as you explore and adjust to the world, finding ways to get back home.

𝑴𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏

After meeting other people and realizing the situation you're in, you decide to explore around the area, because why.. not? You might find info about where the hell you are and how to get back to where things were.

𝑬𝒏𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓

You didnt expect to meet a royal too soon, and you share moments with him, which you either hate or cherish.

𝑩𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓

After leading the Crown Prince, Kang Taehyun, back to his royal camp, you are met with a new bother in life; the crown prince himself. Staying for a while to offer help to the royal camp struggling with a certain problem, your talents are shown and appreciated which drags you to a mess with the ladies in the palace and town.

𝑵𝒖𝒊𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆

You are dragged into a scandal, which gives off a hint of what is your current purpose in this world. Kang Taehyun is still a nuisance but sometimes you feel bad for him.

𝑰𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒕

You are reunited with Hobak and Odi, and a new adventure comes up. You set for a new town, and the palace has obvious corruption spread on the whole town.

𝑺𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒅

Settling your goals and your destiny in the current dynasty you're in, something meddles in between your planning. Something good. You also meet Soobin's family with shocking histories. General Beomgyu offers you a deal that maybe can get you rich. (just like you wanted)

𝑷𝒆𝒄𝒖𝒍𝒊𝒂𝒓

You settle in for a while, taking your time to adjust to your new future and life style. Definetely weird, but a new experiance for you.

𝑬𝒙𝒂𝒎𝒔?!

Meeting the high-ranked officials, you all get a test whether you are good for the future emperor or not. A test where in you go through different stages of betrayal and backstabbing. How amazing.

10.

𝐇𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐞𝐞𝐤

You couldn't hide from the Crown Prince forever, and you suffer because of it. One exam remains, the ones determining whether you pass or not. The Palace may be bad, but it was suprisingly tolerable. Although, it feels as if the palace is hiding something within the pillars.

11.

𝑨𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒆

You discover a secret hidden within the palace walls that no one dares to spill. The Cheol Family has dirty work spilled all over, that no one wishes to clean up. Kang Taehyun finally meets you after a while, after your round of hide and seek. Your last exam comes up, as you anticipate with an ounce of hope that you pass.

12.

𝑳𝒂𝒔𝒕

Entering the royal court for the last test, you cant help but be nervous. How well you do is what lies ahead in the future.

13.

𝑪𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 (𝑶𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕?)

A feast is hosted for your new achievement. But after achieving the "Imperial Concubine" title, things start to get busy for you. Coming from the position of being almost useless to one of the most crucial roles in the palace, you cant help but complain. Complaining is in your nature anyway. But your complains give a whole different outcome from what you wanted. (You're both okay and not okay with it.)

more chapters to come!

updates every 1-4 weeks, depending on my schedule

#kpop #txt #txt x reader #taehyun #hueningkai #soobin #yeonjun #taehyun x reader #tubatu #beomgyu #kang taehyun x reader #taehyun x you #txt x you

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the-kr8tor · 8 months ago

Text

Sink or Swim

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Total Word Count: 16k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), Hobie is mentioned taller than R, CW food mentions, CW suggestive, TW blood, CW injury, CW miscarriage mention, TW violence.

A/N: I've divided this chapter into two because of how long it is and tumblr wouldn't let me draft the post without the app crashing. So sorry for the inconvenience. I'll put the link at the end and on top.

Between the Devil and the Sea Masterlist

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CHAPTER 13 >>> CHAPTER 13 II

Hobie's throat feels like he swallowed glass. Yet, he screams until his lungs give out, until his body gives out. Fist pounding into steel, skin splitting, blood staining the metal, he continues to call for you. His ears could only hear your frantic yells, his name falling out of your lips, vomited out desperately, asking for him, calling for him to get you out.

He kicks and thrashes at the metal bars, his mind imagines the worst— nails ripped from your fingers, bones breaking, skin scraped and slashed. He doesn't need to imagine how it could feel for he had lived through it all, survived through sheer will alone. But he promised, he promised to you and in that hollow grave that it will never be filled with your body; that your own blood wouldn't spill in between his fingers.

Yet, like the knife that he is, like the one who breaks skin and bleeds everything he touches— he hurt you, shot you where you stood, when he should've protected you, shielded you from the bullet. But how could he do it when the bullet is from him? When he used the same weapon that has ended dozens of lives to protect his crew, to harm you; the only person he deems worthy of telling all his secrets, you, who is worth more than every single treasure in the world.

Maybe he should've listened to you and stayed on the island.

Hobie calls for you once again, in hopes that you hear him too, in hopes that his voice is enough to bring you hope. The lighthouse that guides you home. But he knows, he knows all you could hear are muffled sounds and the creaking from the rocking ship.

Your voice wavers, like you've been forcefully silenced. So he does the screaming for you. It's loud, tone furious, ready to scratch at anyone who gets closer.

“Hobie—” Gwen tries to get his attention as the door opens, revealing the two guards staying in the doorway, keeping their distance.

Guns are strapped to them, knives glinting in the lamp light, armed to the teeth. Hobie knows it's all for him.

“Shut the fuck up.” One frustratingly said, teeth clenched, hands kneading at his temples.

“Keep screaming and you won't get supper.” The bigger one utters, the large scar on his cheek tightens as Hobie taunts them with a grim smile. The smile he reserves to strike fear.

They stiffen in the doorway, shoulders straight, hands reaching for their weapons.

“Do it then.” Hobie says, voice guttural, hands gripping the bars. “End the screaming.” His sheer tone alone sends everyone's hair to stand upright.

No one in the crew dares to stop Hobie. He doesn't know if they're afraid just like the men in front of him or if they're biding their time to scratch and bite too.

“Come closer and end it.” He doesn't yell, and that terrifies the men in the doorway. “And you'll find out exactly what I did to Admiral Kinney all those years ago.” He can still taste the admiral's ichor on his tongue.

The hulking men share a look, sweat dripping off their brows. And with that, they shut the door behind them, returning to their post with their tails tucked between their legs.

“Cowards.”

If it wasn't a grim situation, James would've laughed.

Hobie hears Gwen sigh behind him, the liquid in her hand sloshes as she practically shoves it in his face.

“At least drink some water. For your throat.”

“No, ‘m not drinking that slop.”

Gwen has had enough, she takes him by the collar, eyes bravely glaring at her captain. “If you want to leave this ship and save her, then drink the slop, eat the fucking bread and keep your goddamn energy for when we get the window to escape. Screaming won't help, captain. It's not helping anyone.” Her jaw is set, eyebrows knitted together.

The rest of the crew stand on the side, ready to get between them if it gets physical. He'll never hurt Gwen, never even thought of it. But he can't stand the thought of his family standing against him rather than next to him. So he fixes it, you'd like it that way.

Hobie gingerly takes the cup, chugging it down in one gulp.

“Good, now eat some bread and sit down.”

“Y/N—” he starts.

“She'll be alright, she's a fighter ain't she?” He nods, “you know her better than us, so tell us, cap'n, that she will survive this.”

He roams his red eyes at his sparse crew. For a brief second he sees the ones he lost behind them. For the first time, he's glad he doesn't see you with them.

Returning his attention towards Gwen, he utters the words with the confidence of a captain.

“She'll survive this.”

—

Sitting down in the corner, he rests his poor throat, the dry bread didn't help much. It was shitty to say the least, times like this, he misses Finn. He'd beat him if he ever knew that he let the famous bloodsail pirates into the hands of a former admiral and you into the hands of someone you fear the most.

Hobie shuts his eyes for a second, he swears it's only for a second but when he wakes up with a start and the door opening with a creak, the moon is already shining outside the large boat.

When he sees you appear by the doorway, he thinks he's still dreaming.

“Ten,” He hears you say between gritted teeth. All he could focus on is you, checking for signs of an injury, he starts from your head—nothing, arms, also nothing, save for a few scratches. Then he settles on your bandaged leg, and he remembers what he did, what he did to you. Guilt and grief overtakes his body, he tries his best to hide into the background, into the wooden walls, to become part of the ship, to hide his shame. Because he hurt you, and he'll never forgive himself for what he did.

Hobie watches from his corner, defeated when you tell him subtly that you're alright. And when you called for him, called his name softly like summer wind breezing by, warm and reminding him of home— he couldn't help but oblige.

Who is he to deny the sky?

When you held him in your hands, he felt anew. Apologies spill from his mouth, eyes forlorn at the red spot on your bandages.

What is the tides without his moon?

He feels lighter when you forgive him. But his past action still haunts him, he knows it'll join the long line of nightmares that plague him at night.

“That's my girl.” He says truthfully and proudly, he feels your heartbeat hasten through your pulse.

You tell him your choice, your decision to give up your freedom for him and the crew. He feels like he was back on the revenge, facing Mathias, refusing to let you go as you offer yourself for their freedom.

His heart beats harder as you ask him to read your mother's letter. He's unsure why you would let someone like him read something as heavy as the letter. It's reserved for someone whose hands wouldn't stain the paper with crimson.

“Because I trust you.” You say, and everything aligns in his mind. Like Poseidon shaking him inside out, like the tides itself is splitting him open.

Hobie reads it with trembling hands and broken skin. Like he thought, it turns the paper pink like ink blots dirtying the pristine paper.

He dictates it, heart shattering at every tear you let out. Wiping your cheeks dry, he's careful not to let his split skin touch your softer ones.

“It's real, innit?” He asks like the earth isn't eating him whole.

“It's real.” You answer and the world caves in around him.

Hobie teases to feel the resemblance of normalcy, “little tomato?” He asks.

And you answer with a “I don't want them, just you.” Like you didn't just mend his shattering heart with one sentence. And you break it right after with a “We'll meet again, in this life or the next.”

He's terrified once again. He shakes his head as the door creaks open. “No, Y/N—”

As you kiss his wounded knuckles gently, you ask him something he can't possibly do.

“Don't follow me, please.”

Reaching for you, he should've read the last line in the letter to you. ‘Don't trust anyone’ it said, whatever it was, it's not your burden to carry, so he'll do it for you.

Hobie apologizes in his head for keeping it away from you and for what he's about to do.

—

With the dinner bell ringing, and heavy footsteps retreating, the crew takes their chance. The key opens the door smoothly. They sneak around the ship, only leaving shadows and footfalls that's barely audible.

Climbing up the steps towards freedom, Hobie spots a door at the end of a hallway. Like two hearts beating as one, he knows it's you behind it.

Miles takes his arm before he could come to you. “Don't.” He whispers to his captain. “Don't waste her sacrifice.”

“She didn't sacrifice herself.” Hobie shakes his head, scoffing quietly. “I can't leave her behind, Miles. I can't.”

“I know,” he pulls him away from the hallway. “she asked you to not follow, so don't follow.”

“If this was Gwen—”

“If this was Gwen we'd be doing the exact same thing. She wouldn't ask us to follow and we'll leave because she asked us to.” Miles spares a heavy glance towards your locked door. “I know it hurts, but we'd be in the gallows by morning if we don't leave now. We'll have another chance at saving her.”

“You don't know that.”

“I don't, but it's better to not know instead of being dead. At least we'd have a chance.” Miles tugs him further away. “Do you think it's better for her to think that she caused our deaths just because you took the chance?” His voice is determined.

“Don't hurt her like that, Hobie. It'll ruin her.”

With one last look towards your door, Hobie nods, following the others to the deck then to safety. As the dinghy drops down into the sea, and into the dark night, he hears Miguel curse his name.

He asks for your forgiveness silently.

—

Hobie and the crew finally make it to the docks without being seen by anyone. It was pure luck that no one saw or even heard them, he thanked the early morning and the still dark sky for lending them a hand.

“We need to wait for her.” He says, stretching his stiff hands from rowing the boat.

The sparse pirate crew hides in the shadows, hidden behind the dark alleyway. They lean on the grimy walls, hands cradling their fatigued heads, huffing and groaning at the aches and pains they had from their daring escape. They can still hear Miguel cursing Hobie's name, his voice ringing in their ears.

“Hobie,” Gwen calls for him. “Leave her be.”

“What the fuck?” Hobie turns sharply. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means we leave her alone.” Pavitr says forlornly, eyes downcast at the dirty pavement.

“We promised her—”

“That was when we didn't know it was her actual family. Back when we all thought Miguel was a threat to her.” Yuri pipes up, hands braced on her knees. Fatigued and clearly needing rest. “I love her, Hobie, I really do. We all love her, but she's with family now. Let her be.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Miles scoffs, “We're talking about the same person right?” He stands next to Hobie, arms crossed on his chest.

“C’mon, Miles,” Gwen says tiredly. “We all heard their conversation, it's real, she's noble—”

“And what of it?” Hobie snaps back. “You were too.”

“I was.” She scowls. “But she has a home to go to, a family that's waiting for her. We need to let her be until for whatever reason she decides to stay or leave with us.” Inhaling sharply, she rubs harshly at her eyes. “Let's make a compromise then. We're all clearly feeling conflicted. I don't want to fully let her go, we all agree right?”

Everyone nods, tension running high, glares thrown about the small group. Gwen continues, “Then we stay close to her, we watch her like when we used to observe potential crew members. But this time we make sure she is actually safe and not thrown to the wolves.” Her idea reminds Hobie why he chose her as his first mate.

“I'll keep first watch,” Hobie quickly says, "we switch after I say so.”

“And when will that be, Hobie?” Yuri clasps her hand on Hobie's shoulder, comforting the man. “You haven't slept a wink, add the fact that you were stranded on a bloody island for a month, you're not in the right state for this.”

“I'll be once I see that she's safe.” His voice cracks, “I didn't keep an eye on MJ and look what happened. I-I don't want that to happen again. Please let me do it. You can follow me all you want just let me keep watch—”

“It's Y/N,” James whisper yells, he peeks around the alley, watching you slowly walk down the ship.

They all clammer to see you ignore Miguel's helping hand. Pride swells in their chest, they remember now why they can't exactly leave you behind— you're family.

As if fate is pulling the strings, you crane your neck to look in their direction. The crew ducks away, but Hobie stays, staring at you, waiting for your signal, anything to indicate that you want to run away with them.

He sees your subtle shake of your head, and with that, he hides with his crew.

“Did she say something?” Pav asks, concerned for you.

“No, nothin’” He holds his heart in his hand. “She said nothin'”

—

Hobie follows you quietly throughout the day. Hiding from Miguel's watchful eyes and your sad eyes. The crew left to rest in an inn, Miles offered to come with him, Hobie's glad he did for he found an unhitched horse in a street corner. But it could only seat one so Miles, the angel that he is, let Hobie go on without him.

“I'll take care of them.” He promises before he lets his captain go.

They all know your house, they've raided their ships before. Crates upon crates full of luxury, with the same design on your necklace stamped on the wooden sides. Hobie knows them quite well, the favourite of the king, always giving them special treatment. Yet the queen holds them at an arm's length away, but she never left her eyes away from their business. He guessed sacking random ships has its perks, gossip is one of them.

Hobie silently trots his horse, eyes never leaving the carriage you just left. The cemetery sends his nerves alight, with the crows cawing in the background, he strains his ear to listen in. He's hiding behind the chapel, the irony doesn't escape him.

The truth is revealed to you, and unbeknownst to you, he has learned about it too. His head is in his hands as he listens to how broken your voice is, tone splitting at the seams. Then his heart stops when you tell your mother that you want to stay, that you want to find the person responsible for their deaths, that the same flames burning inside him now have spread to you.

Hobie doesn't want you to go down the same path he walked on, to let the embers singe your skin, to let the fire burn you from the inside out like it had with him. You helped him through his, helped him control it. Now it's his turn to do so for you.

He cares for you, loves you for all your soft touches and gentle tone. But he's prepared to love you through your jagged edges, through all the anger that's inside you. He'd love both sides of you, because it's you, and no one else.

His foot accidentally steps on a twig as he sees you leave. Hobie almost ran towards you when you looked at the source of the sound. This time he ducks away, knowing that there's eyes on you, eyes that are prepared to take you away the moment they see him. So he waits, until there's no more eyes on you.

The next time he saw you again was when you stepped out of the carriage and into the golden doors of the palace. He's terrified for what's to come, whether or not Miguel has brought you on a silver platter for the wolves to devour.

With his guns accompanying him, he readies outside the walls of the palace until you leave, until he sees you again climbing inside the carriage.

He can finally breathe again, he doesn't have to kill this time. Not yet anyway.

Hobie tries his best to stay hidden, he bribes and lies to get inside Hazelside. Then he waits, and bides his time just to talk to you.

—

“Hazelside estate,” Miguel says when the large manor looms over the horizon. “Your family has owned it for two hundred years. Passed down to every first born child of the family.”

Acres and acres of land stretch across the vast space. Primed apple trees and oaks line the road, men and women in work clothes walk near the carriage, not even craning their necks to take a peek inside. It seems this was a daily occurrence for them.

“Two hundred years.” You repeat, contemplating how many generations owned it. “So it's mine once the papers are signed? Where would my…uncle and aunt go then?” Your mind goes through a hundred scenarios where you stay and where you decide to leave it all again.

“They have their own house. Granted it's not as big as Hazelside but it's enough for them. Knowing his majesty, he'd take his sweet time from releasing the papers.”

“How well do you know the king and queen?” You ask, eyes scanning your family's land.

Stone houses are standing miles away from the main estate, employees of the house you think. Chimneys billow out smoke whilst the sun is just about to rise. You imagine them having breakfast with their families, sleep still clinging in their lashes, hot tea wrapped in their cool hands. Opening the window, the smell of fresh apples wafts over you. Home, you think. It smells like home. Or it just reminds you of the apple tarts Jessica made for you when you were younger.

“You alright?” Miguel asks, watching you frown.

“I'm fine, just tired.” You lied, in truth, you miss them all.

“You had a hectic day, I don't blame you. You'll get to rest soon, I promise.”

How could you even think of sleeping alone? After being near him? After saying goodbye?

“You didn't answer my question.” You shift your attention from the trees to the man before you. “How well do you know them?”

“I barely know the queen, but the king? Yes, short answer? He's a moron, a buffoon wearing a crown.”

Lyla snickers next to you, head plopped on the carriage wall, seemingly asleep.

You smile, “You have a monkey for a king.”

“Once you're the Hazelside duchess, he'll be your king too.”

“Christ.” You chuckle nervously.

“Don't worry, I'll help you get accustomed to polite society.” Miguel reassures you and you still have no idea if you'll stay long enough to bear the title.

“Polite society.” You say with a scoff, “What I just saw wasn't very polite.”

“Just remember, everything here is political. Everyone here is climbing the ladder, kissing the royal asses. Some are doing it for their families, some are doing it for their personal gain.”

“Which one do you think I am?”

“Neither.” The carriage stops, horses neighing, hooves stomping on the gravel. “You're not like them, Y/N, that's why you'll end up walking all over them.”

The footman opens the door, Miguel gives you a look before coming down the small steps. He reaches towards you, helping you down. You hesitate. You still don't take his hand even with your bad leg.

The wind blows cold, goosebumps appearing on your skin, face worried at the sheer size of the manor. The glinting silvered birds catch the early morning's sun's rays. Beady eyes seemingly blinking when a cloud passes by.

Vines cling to the ancient walls, small purple flowers run along the plant and along the large windows. Strong columns line the façade, laurels carved on the marble, oak doors displaying the house sigil— your necklace bearing a similarity to it. Flower beds cradling violets lay by the foot of the building, blooming and fragrant. The smell hiding your trepidation from the dozen or so people watching you with unreadable eyes.

The staff greets you with a stiff nod, they stand on the stairs leading towards the manor. Their uniforms are perfect, perfectly ironed and clean; perfect white gloves on their hands.

A couple of them help your drunk uncle off their own carriage. He groans, head swirling, eyes rolling to the back of his head. Fancy clothes sweaty and moist, neckerchief lopsided and dirtied by ale. In contrast to his wife, who looks tired with the heavy eye bags under her eyes, she still looks like a proper noble compared to Frederick.

“Freddy—” She groans, kicking her husband's leg, “get up!”

“Darling…” he slurs, “there's two of you—oh wait…now there's three!” His guffaw fills the quiet morning.

Victoria gives up, leaving the man to the care of her staff. She walks off, huffing and puffing. She gives you a glance, “what are you waiting for? Get inside.”

Her eyes flick to Miguel who stands behind you, she immediately clamps down her bitterness. “Welcome to Hazelside, niece.” With a stomp of her heeled foot, she heads inside, no doubt seething.

“Catty.” Lyla says next to you, elbowing your side. “C’mon, your grace, before the sun gets in their eyes and sends them into a murderous frenzy.”

You chuckle, shaking your head. Something flickers in your peripheral vision, when you move your head to look, whatever it was, it's already gone behind the thick bushes.

“Y/N?” Miguel beckons you over. “It's cold out, come inside before you get sick.”

“Coming,” you call back, eyes darting around the thicket.

—

Miguel shows you around to your room in the west wing. Various historical paintings decorate the walls, wooden simple frames around them, showing the true beauty of the art without all the extravagant gold laurels around it.

Sculpted busts of your ancestors wait at every corner, marble eyes staring blankly at what's in front of them. Large windows line the walls, just outside the glass lies an expansive field of apple trees, bulbs of reds and greens adorning the branches of the mighty orchard. You stand in awe at the sight, workers start flocking the trees, picking and plucking at the ripest of fruits. The sun shines directly at the field, apples aglow with its light like red and green stars.

You lag behind Miguel as you gawp at the scenery, hand tucked inside the pocket of your gown, mindlessly rolling the pearl. Wishing the crew could see it too, wishing that he could see it and harvest the fruits with you.

Miguel calls for you, hand reaching but he retracts it back to his side. “Apples are new around here.” You genuinely smile at him, so he continues. “It used to just be hazelnuts, which still grow plenty in the estate.”

“Why the change then?”

“They didn't change, your family merely adapted. Your grandmother was the one who started planting the apple trees. Whenever she had a—” Miguel falters, you can practically see his brain turning.

“Had a what? I'm a big girl, Miguel, I can handle whatever it is.” You encourage him with a nod.

“A miscarriage,” he says lowly, “At the end of her life she planted seven trees. There was only one seed she didn't plant and that was when your mother was born.”

Your heart aches at the story even though the people in it are practically strangers to you. “Apple of her eye.” You murmur.

Miguel chuckles, turning to watch the vast orchard that spans acres upon acres of land. “It’s an understatement. She was spoiled, your mother. But she had a heart, most of her gifts almost always ‘gets lost’ somewhere.” He smiles fondly. “Strangely enough, it always ends up with someone who would benefit from it more.”

“Which one ended up getting lost in your backyard?” You smile at his rare grin.

“A lot, pocket watches, jeweled eggs, there was a kitten once. Only because her mother didn't like it.” He sighs, hazel eyes shining under the sunlight.

“You loved her.”

“I did,” he stares at you with kinder eyes. “She was my best friend, and so was your father. They both were.”

“What did you mean back at the carriage when you told me that they did the same to you?”

He swallows thickly, staring back at the outside of the opulent manor. “My daughter, Gabriella.” he says after a moment, “She was only a few years older than you. Your parents were her godparents, this was before they eloped and had you.” You can feel the strain in his voice. “She got sick…they poured everything into giving her the best doctors the country has to offer. They were at her side while I was drowning my sorrows in the navy. When they weren't by her side, they were with me. But in the end everything was all in vain.”

“I'm sorry,” you say genuinely, “I'm sorry, Miguel.”

He gives you a tight smile and a pat on your shoulder. “Even after all that they were still by my side, even when I pushed them away.” Sniffing, he subtly wipes his eye. “I didn't cross the sea and traveled thousands of miles to find you because I want us to be even. Or to pay the debt, I just wanted to find the last thing they left in hopes that I also find them in you.” His chest heaves. “I couldn't even say goodbye to them.”

There's tears in your eyes as he chokes on his own words. “I lost my friends but you lost your family before you could even meet them. And for that, I'm sorry, Y/N.” His hand shakes. “They didn't deserve what happened to them.”

“Tell me what happened to them.” You stand toe to toe with him, determined to get answers.

“Pirates, I told you they were pirates.”

You shake your head. “Do you really believe that, O’Hara? Or are you still trying to convince yourself otherwise?”

His jaw clenches, “It was pirates, Y/N.”

“Tell that to the former navy medic I call mother.”

He whispers, “the last time I looked further into their deaths I lost my Job, stripped of all my titles. I almost lost my house because of it.”

“Then tell me what you found.” You challenge him back. “Tell me who ordered it so I can live in this house in peace.”

“I don't have definitive proof—”

“Who?”

“Edward.” He says through gritted teeth. “He wanted to marry your mother, even going as far to ask for her hand. But when she refused him for your father—” he heaves. “I think he has probable cause to order the attack.”

“You were answering the man who might've killed my parents and wanted me dead?”

“How do you think that makes me feel, hm? I had my full trust in the navy, trusting the report they gave, trusted them with my whole life, even dedicating my life to them. And the moment I get a whiff of a planned murder on the only family I've ever had they bar me from the only life I've ever known. How do you think that made me feel?”

“I'm sorry you went through that but you could've done something.”

“He is king!” Miguel's voice booms around the hallway. He shifts his voice, pinching his knitted brows. “His word is law, I couldn't have done anything, even if I had proof.”

“You should've started with that instead of telling me lies, then I would've come to you without a fight.”

“There would've still been a fight.” He states matter of factly. “Hobie was ready to fight the moment I stepped below deck.”

“Could you blame him though? We both know not every single pirate crew is as nice as them, he didn't attack because you claimed it was pirates. Or that he was offended, he knows that he has done unsavoury things too. So what did you say that made him lunge at you?”

Miguel shakes his head, refusing to say anything. “It's best that you don't remember it.”

“Fine, be like that, just know that there will always be a wall between us.” Your heels clack loudly against the oak floors as you leave him behind.

—

The room they gave you was surprisingly comfortable, unlike the apartments in the palace that you explored. It's ten times bigger than the inn you were in, complete with your own bathroom and sitting room. It's all wooden walls covered in beautiful tapestries of various scenes from history— the thick cloth helps keep the heat inside. All the windows are wide open to let the cool air in and the moonlight. So you could hear the rustling of the trees outside, so you could smell the crisp apples. It helps, you think as you sit in front of the large stone fireplace with birds engraved in every corner of the stone.

You're already sick of the bloody birds.

You wrap the fur blanket closer to your body, still in your gown, refusing to wear anything else they've provided for you. You've heard of poisoned dresses before, it's far-fetched but you can't risk it now that you're in a more unfamiliar territory where your own family holds a grudge against you just for existing.

Especially now that you're alone in a large room filled with strange things. And with only his dagger to keep you safe.

Anyone would kill to be in your shoes right now, to be pampered and placed in a household that can provide for all your needs. If it weren't for the hunger in you, you would've left all of the gold in this house just to get back to them. Instead, the fire has you in its hold too.

Miguel's information only fueled the glowing embers in you, you're determined to find who killed them. But you're still restrained in this large manor, and until you can get your answers, you say their names to satiate the hunger.

“Edward and Mathias.” You say through shuddered breath, feeling if you could just say it louder, the sky would strike them down where they stood.

The pearl in your hands is warm, the shiny surface reflecting your scowl.

The flames mesmerize you as it dances in the kindling. Orange and reds illuminate your face, it's the only light in the whole room. You exhale and a puff of clouds escape your cool lips.

It's getting colder, and you're missing him.

Just when you're about to stand up to close the windows, a pebble lands near you. It thuds on the wooden floors, the sound gets your attention.

“What the hell?” You say confused. Standing back up, another flies through the open windows and into your room. “Who the fuck?” Speed walking towards the window, you almost get hit by a pebble if you didn't dodge it in time. “Hey!”

Fifteen feet below your window, you see two people dressed in their night clothes, bundled up in fur coats. They look up at you with wide eyes, like they got caught with their hands inside the cookie jar.

“Cousin!” One exclaims, a wide apologetic smile on his lips, showing you his perfect teeth. “Sorry about that! Can you come down?”

“Who in the world are you?” You ask, confused, you lean down to take a better look, hands gripping the sill for support.

“We're your cousins! I guess?” The girl next to him says, eyes shining in the moonlight, hand holding another pebble. “We waited to see you during supper and around the house but you were apparently hiding!”

“Alright, why do I need to come down then?”

“Because we want to properly introduce ourselves! Without screaming at you from below that is.” The girl shrugs, smiling prettily at you. “Please, cousin?”

“...fine.” you grumble, the dagger is still hidden underneath your skirt in case they're planning something nefarious.

They beam up at you, the girl daintily claps her hands. “Brilliant! We'll be waiting at the entrance.”

As you trudge down the unfamiliar sprawling halls, trying your hardest to not get lost in the maze-like structure. You accidentally encounter another painting of your mother.

Her name is etched on a golden plaque just below the portrait. This one was different from the one in the palace, she was stiff there, lips tightly closed into a line, eyes cold and empty. The one in front of you is warm, a soft smile on her lips, eyes shining and alive. Her dress is in lilac, golden stars adorning the bodice. She still wore the same necklace you're currently wearing, it rests perfectly on her neck. In her hand is a closed locket, you wonder whose portrait lies inside.

“Hi, mum.” You whisper into the cold hallway. “Where's dad's portrait?” You ask like she would open her mouth and answer back. With a sigh, you head downstairs.

Walking the ancient floors, the moon shines down at you, the light peeking in from the gaps of the heavy curtains. Silently, you meet with your cousins in the foyer. Carefully coming down the curved staircase, hand gripping the bannister, the boy who is about the same age as Miles meets you halfway. He reaches towards you, giving you a hand.

“I heard about your leg, I thought you'd appreciate some help.”

“You're Frederick's children?” You say, questioning whether or not you should take his hand.

“We are,” he says with a sigh. “Come on, cousin, or you might miss it.”

“Miss what?”

“The birds.” The girl waiting in the foyer excitedly says. “They're migrating.”

“Oh, I don't see why that would be so interesting.” You say as the boy flexes his fingers, beckoning you down.

“You’ll see why. Take my hand please, you look like our grandmother going down the steps.”

“Fine,” with an exhale, you take his hand. You hold his hand, a feather light touch that he barely feels, giving yourself enough time to react if he decides to do something.

“I'm Jonathan, or just John.” He says as he gently leads you down the steps. His stride is slow, waiting for your own feet to keep up. “And this is my sister—”

“Collette!” She suddenly clasps your hands when you reach the last step. “Sorry–” her tone is sweet and genuine, quickly removing her hands from yours. “I got too excited! I'm Collette, my brother and I are twins.”

“Unfortunately…” John says under his breath.

Collette jabs her elbow by his side, earning a groan from him. You see the similarities on their faces now that you're closer to them. From the slope of their noses to the curls of their hair, they look very much alike. Except for their eyes, Collette has emerald eyes that shimmer from the oil lamp she carries. While her brother has brilliant blue eyes that remind you of the sea when the sun shines above it.

You get reminded of him again.

“Who's older?” You ask teasingly, pushing the previous thought away.

“I am!” They both speak at the same time. John looks at her sister with disappointment, while Collette scrunches her nose.

“I'm five minutes older than you, Jojo.” She says with a tone you could only describe as annoyed.

“Father told me I'm the one who's five minutes older. Not you!”

“Sure,” she nods sarcastically, the lamp in her hand sways. “Because father was in the room when we were born.” Her head swivels to look at you, and you almost jump at how fast she moved. “He wasn't in the room.”

“Ah, I think I got it—”

“Like you could bloody remember.” John says with a scoff.

Before the argument could go on, you stop them with your hands on each of their shoulders.

“I need to sleep, so whatever you want to show me, just fucking show me.”

Collette stares at you with a gasp, eyes wide like you just said the darndest thing. Meanwhile, John has the biggest grin you've ever seen.

“Wow, cousin.” He says, amused. “I heard you used to run with pirates but I didn't know you got their vocabulary too. Hazelside would be more interesting now that you're here.”

“Gosh,” Collette exhales, clutching her pearls (literally) “I didn't know that word could be uttered by a woman.”

“You should try it sometimes. It's very freeing.” You chuckle at their reaction whilst you make your way outside. “Before we freeze to death, cousins?”

“The oldest should lead the way.” John takes the opportunity to rag on his still bewildered sister.

She groans audibly. “You're not the one with the lamp.”

You smile, there's a warm familiar feeling in your chest.

—

Leaves crunch under your bare foot, you've got blisters from the uncomfortable heels Miguel gave you. You'd take walking on bare feet rather than wear that torture device ever again. The only plus side of the fancy shoe is that it makes you feel powerful with every click of the heels. Walking along a path, tall apple trees carve a way for you and the twins.

“I like your dress.” Collette says right next to you, you sense her wariness by how she keeps her distance. “The color is beautiful, it's our house color.”

“Thank you, but I've been told that red suits me better.”

“Oh, I think they're right actually.” She smiles, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Yeah, I'm slowly getting used to this one though.” You lift up your skirt a bit for emphasis.

“Is it true that you were shot?” John asks in front of you, looking over his shoulder. “We heard from the footmen that you were shot by a pirate when O’Hara rescued you.”

“I was, but that's not the whole story. Miguel didn't rescue me.”

“Really?” Collette's brows are raised in question and surprise. You nod at her question. “Huh, I told you we shouldn't listen to gossip.” She slaps her brother on his bicep, he winces, glaring at her. “It's bad to begin with.”

“That's the thing about gossip, Co, it's not always the truth.” He spits out.

“I knew that, pssh.” She crosses her arms on her chest, annoyed and embarrassed.

“Why are we out here again? If you're planning to ambush me—” Colette gasps loudly, like you've shot her.

“Ambush you? Do we look like we know how to fight?” She stops you from going further down the path just as you see a dark river at the end of it.

John knits his brows with a pout. “We're here to give you a warm welcome, cousin. We heard mother and father didn't even give you a tour, so I guess it falls on us to show you around.”

“At night though?” You gesture around the silence of the grounds, save for a few crickets chirping and the flowing of the lake, you're practically alone in the dark.

“Guess we're just living to our house motto, ‘carpe noctem—’”

“‘Seize the night’” Collette finishes her brother's sentence. “The ancestor who established our house was a gambler.” She shrugs.

“That's our house motto?”

“Nope!” Collette answers you. “It was our house motto.” She gestures to herself and her brother. “Before the crown granted us Hazelside, after—” John elbows her. “I'm sorry.”

“It's alright, what's the actual motto?”

“‘alis volat propriis—’”

“‘She flies with her own wings.’” You translate, the siblings look at you with awe. “There's latin in medicine.”

“You know medicine?!” Collette shrieks, the sound echoing through the dark.

“Brilliant.” John murmurs.

“Oh you must tell us more!” Collette loops her arm around yours, walking side by side. “How and where did you learn it?”

“I—”

“Don't pester her, Co.” John clicks his tongue, “have you cut anyone's arm off?”

“How grim!” She exclaims.

As they lead you towards the sparkling lake, you three chat through the night by the banks of the hazelside lake. They ask about the world outside the capital, they ask about the sea and the pirates you were with. You don't tell them about all the blood and violence, deciding that you shouldn't mar their innocent hearts with stories of death. It's not yours to tell, and you don't want to traumatize the only people who don't look at you with contempt.

“So you're not mad at me or even at least a bit annoyed for showing up and taking the estate from your parents?” You ask whilst the sun slowly rises, bathing the lake in bright blue. The hazelnuts in your mouth is a welcome one since you haven't eaten a single bite since you got to the capital.

“Not really.” John munches on his own pile of hazelnuts. He lounges near the water, hand cradling his head, chewing quietly. “We were surprised at first because there have been a handful of girls who claimed to be you. Who were obviously not you.” You raise an eyebrow at his statement. “But when they told us it was Miguel who found you, we were sure it was really you.”

“Wait— there were people who claimed to be me?”

“Mm-hmm.” Collette hums, sitting close to you, hanging on to every word you utter. “They weren't very convincing.”

“The story of Miguel trying to find you was pretty famous around here. I mean, the guy abandoned his post to find a missing duchess who may or may not be alive. That was a big story back then, so a lot of women threw their daughters and young relatives at the manor's gates to get a chance.” John informs you.

“We were quite young back then, but the fakes dwindled away through the years.” Collette finishes his statement.

“‘Quite young’ she says,” he scoffs, “we were barely out of the womb, Collette.” His sister sticks out her tongue at John.

“Huh, that's probably why I haven't heard of it either, I was still young.” You wonder.

“The sun's almost out!” Collette points at the clear sky. “Get ready, cousin, because you're about to see the most gorgeous thing.”

“The birds here migrate at this time of year,” John helps you both up to your feet. You surprisingly take his hand. “like clockwork. Collette and I used to watch it with our parents before they got all…well, too much. Now it's some sort of tradition for us.”

“Look look! The trees are rustling!” She points, jumping up and down.

“Any minute now.” John smiles at his sister as she half hugs him.

The three of you wait for a sign of the birds, a minute passes, then two, then five. Yet, not even a feather flies overhead. The early morning sun shines brighter with every minute that passes. And with every minute, the twins grew agitated.

“Why aren't they coming out?” Collette asks sadly.

“I'm sure they're just getting ready for the journey.” John reassures his sister with a pat on her shoulder. “My calculations are correct, why aren't they here yet?” He questions no one.

Their slumped shoulders and frowns get to you. An idea pops in your head, and you think it's all Hobie's fault.

“Maybe they're still sleeping.” They look at you simultaneously, “I mean it's really cold out, they probably wanted to stay in bed— or nest to sleep more. I know I would want to.”

“Oh,” Collette gives you a small smile at your attempt to make them feel better. “That's probably it. Thank you, cousin.”

You grin mischievously at them, “what if we wake them all up?”

John makes a face. “How?”

You inhale, putting your hands around your mouth, you scream, “wake the fuck up!” The sound echoed throughout the field and across the lake.

Your cousins let out a loud guffaw, you giggle at their reaction. John joins in, copying your actions.

“Wake up you wankers!” He yells, exhilaration filling his chest. “I've always wanted to say that.” Chuckling, he laughs louder at the face his sister is making.

“Johnathan!” His sister gasps next to him.

“What? Try it out! Come on then! No one's out here to tell us off.” John shakes her shoulder, giving you a wide grin.

“Join us in the dark side, Collette.” You sing song, “the birds need a wake up call.”

“You won't tell mother and father?” She asks the both of you. Wiggling, she’s excited.

Crossing your heart, you promise. “I won't, I'm not a tattletale.”

“Cross my heart and hope to die, Co.”

“Alright.” She exhales deeply before letting loud the loudest scream you've ever heard. “Wake up, cocksuckers!” It's so loud that you swear your eardrums are blown out. Smiling, she turns towards your surprised forms.

Now it's you and John's turn to gasp.

“Cocksucker?!” You exclaim, bewildered.

“Where'd you learn that, Co?!” John pokes his sister.

“I heard it when Mrs. Williams stubbed her toe during lessons.” She said shyly.

“Good on you, sis.” He pats her back. “Good on you.”

Collette looks at you expectantly. “Good show, Co.” You wink at her and she giggles happily.

Facing towards the thick trees across the lake, the birds still don't fly overhead. There's nothing but the wind rustling the branches.

“They didn't wake up though.” She says forlornly.

“What if we do it at the same time?” Your words have them smiling again.

“Yes!” They say simultaneously.

“Ready?” They both nod, taking in air before screaming their hearts out.

“Cocksuckers!” The three of you let out simultaneously. The canopy rustles and out comes a hundred or so birds from the thicket.

You all jump up and down, arms up in greeting the birds. Their feathers shine in the sun, light filtering through their wings. Iridescent blues and whites glowing, reflecting in your eyes. Wings flapping loudly, beaks held up high as they greet the sky with open wings.

Amidst the beauty of it all, you wish that he was there to witness it.

A tear slides down your cheek. You wipe it quickly before the twins notice. Head staring up at the sky, amidst all the beauty and light, there's a darkness swirling inside you. Amidst all the life around you, you feel the opposite. And you miss him. The worst part is, you see this place becoming your home.

>>> CHAPTER 13 II

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shewhohangsoutincemeteries · 11 months ago

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once again, we've reached a new year, and while I can't guarantee a new me who might actually release new fanfiction with some semblance of regularity, I can promise that I will keep writing and posting as often as my life allows. I want to thank all of you who read, like, respond and especially reblog my work, and I hope that you enjoy anything on this list you may of missed, and keep enjoying the new work I keep on posting. happy new year everyone!

full content warnings and content can be found on each individual post, and each fic is labelled for length. follow me on bartonstark to find all my fic in one place, or check out my ao3. smut/sexual content: *** personal favourites: ///

BRUCE BANNER:

interlude (ficlet) *** you steal a heated moment with bruce in the lab.

BUCKY BARNES:

keep quiet (ficlet) *** /// against his better judgement, bucky lets you seduce him in a public place.

warm embrace (ficlet) bucky takes pity on you in the cold.

CLINT BARTON:

appreciation (oneshot) *** /// you borrow clint's shirt and he shows you just how much he approves.

make your move (oneshot) /// you discover clint's real feelings for you and dare him to do something about it.

stay still (ficlet) clint comes to your aid after you're injured on the battlefield.

whatever you need (ficlet) *** /// after a mission gone wrong, clint gives you everything you need.

MARC SPECTOR:

bubble bath (ficlet) sometimes, self care includes bubbles.

starving (ficlet) *** marc has alternate plans for dinner.

NATASHA ROMANOFF:

smile (ficlet) you distract natasha in the middle of a meeting.

PETER QUILL:

chilly (ficlet) /// you're not quite used to just how cold it is in space.

rom-com moment (ficlet) *** even a storm can't convince quill to keep his hands -or his feelings- to himself.

STEVEN GRANT:

raindrops keep falling (ficlet) a busted umbrella leads to a meet cute.

TONY STARK:

downpour (ficlet) *** tony has his way with you against a window as you watch the rain.

favor (ficlet) you convince tony to finally get some rest.

ink (ficlet) you surprise tony when he finally comes home to you.

missed you (ficlet) tony wakes you up in the middle of the night.

most people (oneshot) /// tony can't believe you're the kind of person who doesn't like hugs.

pride (ficlet) *** tony takes a lot of pride in what he does to you.

voice of reason (ficlet) in a reversal of roles, tony's the one to convince you to go to bed.

waking up with you (ficlet) *** tony has only one thing on his mind in the mornings.

THREESOMES/POLYAMORY:

ladies first (clint barton x natasha romanoff x reader) *** /// natasha has strict rules when it comes to play.

plaything (tony stark x marc spector x reader) *** /// you invite an old boyfriend to help teach your new one a lesson.

SERIES:

just to be nearby (peter quill x reader) *** /// months after the battle of earth, peter is still wallowing in his loss of gamora. he begins to find comfort in you.

just to be nearby

closer still

to ashes chapters (full series, this year's chapters in bold) *** /// after the snap, you volunteer to track down clint and bring him home. instead, you join him on his mission for blood and find yourself growing closer to him... prologue - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21 - 22 - 23 - 24 - 25 - 26 - 27 - 28 - 29 - 30 - 31 - more coming soon

tag list: @lovely-dreamer19 @wittyforachange @wefracturedmotivation @january-echoes @glossyloner @capitalnineteen @youclickedthislink @s0ftness @castieltrash1 @drakelover78 @queenoftheunderdark @fandoms-pizza-wifi-ym13 @lol-you-thought @sebbystanlover-vk @trekkingaroundasgard @mikariell95 @csigeoblue @abrunettefangirlnerd @babyblues915 @aar-journey @moistpotatobear @bellamyblakemorley @diesinspanishbcimhispanic @sentimentalalien @agustdowney @akumune @xxboesefrauxx @ccbsrmsf1 @patheticallysentimental @loki-is-loved @blue-chup @darsynia @katsies @youralphawolf72 @maenji @rhymesmenagerie @gwianasky @melaclintbartoncorner @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @marvelwomen-simp @bombardia @bellarkeselection @hollymac79 @dragon-chica

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m3-kk · 5 months ago

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TCF NOVEL SPOILERS- My TCF notes

Hmmm it’s been a minute since I posted any of my TCF notes about the chapters.. so here ya go! THIS US PART 2 SHAWTYS!!

Ch. 1- YESSS CHAPTER 1!! Not the Kings Palace going kaboom 😶 Cale needs to rest!!! Slacker chan!!!

Ch. 5- AHHHHHHHHHH LEE SOO HYUKKKKKKKK LETSS GOOOOO! BLACK HAWKK OOO

Ch. 6- His name is now Sui Khan 😮

Ch. 7- 🍪 Cookiess! So we have to travel different dimensions now? Cale needs a break 😭😭

Ch. 8- World with the white mages = Xiaolen Planet

Ch.9- YAY DIVINE ITEM MIRROR LAPTOP THINGY! We are definitely going to like the other worlds people evil smirk 😏

Ch. 10- HAH CALE HUNG UP ON DUKE FREDO LOL! Sooo Cale is a god. 😀

Ch. 12- Dead mana is purer AND Cale’s power is more efficient here? Interesting..

Ch. 13- Hey we have a spare world tree!

Ch. 15- Mary is registering as a candidate to be a necromancer empress GO MARY!

Ch. 16- AW HER FAKE NAME IS “Heni Wishrop” HENI STANDS FOR HENITUSE!

Everyone thinks our Mary is powerful hehe!

Ch. 21- Working with Zero & the 4th Prince for the Harmony test :D

Ch. 22- OOooo Black Rain 🌧️

Ch. 24- Now we actually need to kill those hunters. How dare they lay a finger on our family. Let’s flip them over immediately.

Ch. 25- Yay! Hong & On <3 Let’s go to the infected area! 2nd Princess?

Ch. 26- the 2nd imperial princess has been converted to Caleism hah m! Tree-bush monster ye fire, destruction, protection!

Ch. 27- Are you human? HAHAH CALEE

Ch. 28- That Marquis guy is smart. Cale really is acting like a purifier so funny!

Ch. 31- Blood Message! How scary!

Ch. 34- Attacking the bad guys >:]

Ch. 36- BURNNNNNNN 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Ch. 37- 50% power to get 2,500% as a result! SO EFFICIENTTTT WEEEEEE

Ch. 38- THE HUNTER WHO HUNTS HUNTERS! GO CALE SO POWERFUL HA!

Ch. 39- Cale.. not everyone is a super powerful ultimate other worldly being like you! I feel bad for Goldie Gramps 😭

Ch. 40- In Prison with the fam 😜

Ch. 41- We are going to loot!! Goldie Gramps is angry and that dragon is timid but crazy. I love our family! CHAOS LOVE

Ch. 42- DESTROY THE ESTATE MWAHAH

Ch. 43- So sad that we couldn’t loot 😭🥲

Ch. 44- Ooo Opening the safe 💰

Ch. 54- ooo revealing us to the empire?

Ch. 58- Choking? Reminds me of Adin

Ch. 63- HAH I KNEW IT THE FAKE WT IS STAYING YOOO

Ch. 64- INFOOO! Not the Patriarch blowing up that’s crazy! We could’ve gotten so much more info! But oh well! Five Colors ooo!

Ch. 65- HAHAH THE GOD OF DEATH IN THE GROUP CHAT HAHAH I LOVE HIMM HEHHEHE (I love this chapter)

Ch. 66- AWWW Chatting with fire of Purification in puppy form!

Ch. 67- This is so cute I’m glad we get a lil’ rest just chatting with the nice puppy ❤️ I love!!!

Ch. 69- Almost the end of this arc!

Ch. 71- HOME WITH THE MONEYYYYY

Ch. 73- Ron, Beacrox! I missed uuuu!

Ch. 75- Aw the Henituse Fam! Billos!

Ch. 76- You get a mine, you get a mine. EVERYONE GETSA MINE!!

Ch. 78- YOU HAVE BEEN PROMOTED YOU ARE NOW ONE OF MY ELITE EMPLOYEES!

Ch. 79- @CP we have a mommy on our side? Mummy’s boy emperor as well???

Ch. 81- CENTRAL PLAINS?! The sworn brother goodbye was cute.

Ch. 83- We meet CP’s clone?? Cutie??

Ch. 85- The disrespect! They can’t pronounce our Cale Henituse’s name!

Ch. 86- NEW NAMES LETSGOOO

Ch. 90- YOO we got a golden plaque!

Ch. 91- Cale ignores Toonka but not Roan!

Ch. 93- We found the living jiangshi!

Ch. 94- enlightenment is crazy****

Ch. 97- Talking with the Sword Sainttt

Ch. 100- Purification! Chapter 100!

Ch. 101- One word, blood. SHITTTTT NOO

Ch. 102- AWKWARD! Yay Choi Jung SOO

Ch. 106- LET HIM EATTTT

Ch. 108- So many ally’s yay !!!!

Ch. 112- We. Are. Going. To. EATT! (a elixir)

Ch. 113- 70% shield 53% water

Ch. 116- The Alliance leader is being bitchy SHOW EM’ WHOSE BOSS! (Roan misses Alberu)

Ch. 118- Don’t hurt our Cale! Please!

Ch. 119- Aw I love when Choi Han & Beacrox talk together about family

Ch. 121- Ah the god ole trash bastard days

Ch. 123- Green Forest Bastards try and mess with us?! Angry Cale! >:(

Ch. 124- OO Cale is the BOSS MAN

Ch. 127- 68% then 72% of fire!!

Ch. 128- Pfft Caleism has a poem now lol.

Ch. 129- HUHH Big complicated lore??

Ch. 131- WOAHH The Heavenly Demon is a smart cookie fr fr wow intelligent!

Ch. 135- The Left Guard is so cute awe

Ch. 136- Oh no the Heavenly Demon ain’t doing so good :[

Ch. 137- Helping out the HD again. Spy?

Ch. 139- Aw Choi Family spars. I love it

Ch. 141- HD is being healed yay

Ch. 142- I was so concerned about Cale the whole time! Bloody Battle

Ch. 146- (I hope everyone at home is ok)

Ch. 151- TALKING WITH ALBERU YAYAYAY

Ch. 152- Pinnacle Demon is poison crazy

Ch. 153- We going to destroy things now?

Ch. 154- YAY DESTRUCTION DESTROY

Ch. 155- FINALLY FLIP THINGS OVER KYA

Ch. 157- OO WATER AP FOUND SOMETHIN

Ch. 158- OMG DRAGON LORE?? YAHOO

Ch. 159- “Raon’s lackey” I got the chills!

Ch. 160- OOOooo I’m hooked! Dragons<3

Ch. 162- Oh DAMN! We got a mf jackpot! Water is 300 percent stronger than the OG. No blood shed! Dragons are great!

Ch. 163- HAHA LOOTING ANCIENT STUFF

Ch. 165- Scale+Crown+Crown=Red Crown

Ch. 169- Shit is going down! TSUNAMI!

Ch. 171- How dare she think to threaten us, she shall die by Choi Hans sword.

Ch. 176- Old man Baek describes Cale’s world and “reads” him

Ch. 183- I love that we can run wild!! 😜

Ch. 185- THE PRIESTESS the youngest daughter of Orsena!

Ch. 186- The Dominantung Aura

Ch. 187- Our little Han got stronger (I’m so fucking proud of him 🥲)

Ch. 188- We killed her.. Last words?

Ch. 189- The Formation Collapsed!

Ch. 190- Raon’s MC moment. (Cute bond)

Ch. 191- Using water AP to Max! Or not?

Ch. 192- the Punto Banhui and Tears💧

Ch. 195- You got games on your phone?

Ch. 196- Everyone wants Cale to be a god

Ch. 199- WE LEFT!!! NOW WE ARE HOMEE

Ch. 200- Awww so cute at Alberu’s casa

Ch. 201- That actually so funny 🤣

Ch. 202- Zoom Call with Ahn Roh Man talking about gamess. Similarities?

Ch. 206- Aw it been a bit since we chilled

Ch. 209- Speech ruined! (So every time Cale has to do a speech it’s interrupted)

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mr-ys-phantasma · 1 month ago

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🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Chapter 1. - Chapter 2. - Chapter 3

Chapter 4. - Chapter 5. - Chapter 6

Chapter 7. - Chapter 8. - Chapter 9

Chapter 10. - Chapter 11. - Chapter 12

Chapter 13. - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15

Word Count: 1410

Chapter 15:

After your little talk with Rio, you wandered around the room; keeping an eye on everyone as you went.

You could see that Alice was uncomfortable being around, trying not to touch anything while nostalgia was hidden behind her round red tinted glasses.

Your attention went mostly to Lilia, who had returned to the main room shaken, and you swore she could be on the verge of tears. Glancing behind her, you faintly noticed certain arts on the wall; depicting witches burning at the stake.

Lilia was the oldest amongst you all. You knew that much. You suspected she had bad memories from the time of the trials and felt sympathetic once you .theorised she must have lost friends that way.

Considering her prophetic abilities, you could not comprehend how outcast she must have felt back then.

As you all gathered in the main room, you realized two people were missing... Agatha and Rio.

Narrowing your eyes faintly, you were about to go find them when the speakes got activated. You heard clearly what was supposed to be the conversation between the two witches; coming from the outer part of the recording booth.

"I get the pleasure of watching you do what you do best." Rio voice was heard over the PA.

Agatha's followed next. "Which is?"

"Killl all the witches around you. One by one."

"Then what?"

"You get your power, and I get my bodies."

Agatha gasped loudly. "Hey! That's my coven you're talking about. I'm m not that kind of witch anymore."

Immediately, the three witches rushed towards the booth; clearly furious with what they had just heard.

You trailed back, hesitant to follow your rushing emotions and thoughts.

Something was not right, and you knew it.

Agatha had tried to frame Rio, perhaps to make the coven mistrust her? Or to make herself sound better and regain some of their confidence to her?

You were not sure.

What you were sure about was Agatha's gasp and last words. That spesific gasp and tone was fake, an overdramatic reaction; a mere acting moment to make others buy it.

You remained further back from the group but close enough, to ensure no one would be throwing hands anytime soon.

Their arguments were loud in your ears but then a different sound reached you. Like nails against a blackboard, like a pin draged against glass...

The background demonic and loud noise seemed to strike deep into your magical core and even in your mind, causing you inscrutiating pain.

Before you knew it, you were on your knees; hands pressed tightly against your ears in a futile attempt to block the noise. You made no sound but by the way you bit your bottom lip, it was evident you were in pain.

The rest of the coven had similar reactions, some like Alice and Jen reacting strongly; yet not to the level you did.

Rio was the one least bothered, and Teen tried his best not to react to it. While being busy to explain, he played a record backwards; causing all this.

While everyone was fighting against it, it was Agatha who dared to act.

She was the first to see you on your knees, trying hard to block the sound from driving you mad and he knew that face of yours... the face when you were in pain.

Her own ears hurt and she swore this sound would haunt her nightmares for the years to come but she had to act.

The others were too weak, and she would not be standing there while you were in pain.

She had no idea what was happening, but if it affected you that way, it was bad. She did not stay to think about it and merely grabbed the record player before smashing it to the ground.

To ensure the job was done, she stepped on it and the cursed record; ensuring the sound would stop, and it did.

Now, free of whatever was that, you all took a moment to gather yourself.

You slowly stood up, taking silent deep breaths before you felt a metallic taste in your mouth. Bringing your hand towards your face, your fingers touched something wet against your lips. Upon inspecting it, you realized it was blood... your blood.

To try and fight the pain, you had bit your lip so hard you had actually bled it.

You tried to hide your shock and quickly wiped the evidence with the back of your sleeve, all while avoiding Agatha's intended gaze; not wishing to decipher it at the moment.

Yet Agatha kept watching, eyes darker at the sight of your bleeding lip. She could not help but remember the times she had bitten your lip enough to draw blood, only to lick it and then kiss you with hunger; letting you also taste what your blood felt like.

She managed to focus on the present, not letting her thoughts and fantasies get the best of her.

There were still things she had to focus on.

"We've been cursed." Lilia suddenly said as she recognised what had taken place.

At least that made some sense to you, though you had never truly been cursed; not that way. Physical curses had been your biggest enemy but you could fight, purify them even when the moon was full.

Now verbal... it seemed to be a loophole into everything. You were not how to feel about that.

You didn't have the time to do so, either, for a metronome on the piano nearby started to tick.

"I think this means the trial started." Teen pointed out.

Jen took notice that Rio was not exactly shocked or even scared, like the rest. "Why are you smiling?"

Agatha rolled her eyes. "She's a tourist." Was her argument.

Once again, Jen did not agree. "She's a psycho."

"And nothing's happening." Teen pointed out. "Maybe this curse isn't so bad."

You immediately locked your sharp gaze at him, making him feel uncomfortable. One finger was pointed in his direction.

"Do not, under any circumstance, say those words again." Your voice was serious, and it made every single hair on his body stand on end. "Last thing we need is the Road proving us wrong"

As if your words had once again predicted the future, something unexpected happened.

Lilia started to fan herself with her hands, feeling hotter when suddenly she started to scream. You swore you could see some sort of faint smoke coming from beneath her clothing, and the smell of burning flesh quickly reached your nose.

"It burns!" She shouted, grabbing an invisible wound by her shoulder.

Everyone stood close in panic, not sure how to help when Jen remembered something.

"Alice, protect her." She instructed her fellow witches.

Just like her assigned role, Alice did what she had to do. Using Rio's knife, she carved a circle around a screaming Lilia while changing a protection spell in Latin.

By the time the circle was complete, Lilia was laying on the floor but she was no longer burning by some invisible power.

Jen looked terrified. "I need you to draw one of those circles around me, right now"

You paid her no mind as you helped Lilia stand. You did not ask her anything but you could see in her eyes that she was thankful for your help .

"So, breaking a curse," Teen started as he tried to think what he knew. "Smudge sticks? A salt bath... What if we locate and reason with the witch who cast the curse?"

"Once vengeance is loosed, you can't reel it back in." You so wisely commneted as you stopped holding and supporting Lliliam

"So what do we do?"

Once again, the older witch had an answer. "The only way to end a curse is to face it."

New screams drew your attention and everyone turned to Jen, who was suffering the same effects of the curse.

Alice rushed to repeat the protective circle, doing her best to be fast and save Jen from suffering this burning sensation for long.

Surprisingly, when she was done; something became noticable. Jen's skin seemed to bear a mark, a burnt brand on her skin.

Lilia confirmed she had the same, making you all exchange looks of worry with one another.

This was new, way more physical than the other trial, and you were not sure you liked it that much.

Chapter 16

#agatha all along #agatha harkness #agatha x reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha fanfic #moon phases fanfic #agatha spoilers #marvel

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sluttysnowangel666 · 4 months ago

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The Song of Blackwoods & Brackens Chapters 13 & 14

This story is written BY ME and I do not consent or give permission to it being posted or translated anywhere else. thank you for supporting your writers <3

find the other chapters/masterlist here

cw: smut af, loss of virginity, very gentle praising sweet benji :3

Chapter 13: The Night Before

15 hours before the battle of the burning mill

𐂃 𐂃 𐂃 𐂃

In the blink of an eye, my clothes are off and on the floor. His hands slowly caress my body, feeling every inch so he can memorize all of me.

"Do I please you, my lord?" I ask him, my voice thick with sultry.

"Fuck," He whispers, "You don't know how badly I've wanted to know what was underneath your fucking brother's clothes."

"Speaking of clothes..." I place my fingers on his chest before slowly moving them down to the string on his breeches. "You're far too dressed, my lord."

He pulls his shirt off with haste, moving to quickly undo the strings of his bottoms. I nearly die at the sight before me. I trace my fingers down his toned torso, admiring each and every scar. His stomach is muscular and fit. Gods, the man he was.

"You're such a beauty." He whispers, cupping my face in his hands before leaning forward to give me a most tender and deep kiss on my lips. I rest my hands on his bare chest.

"Touch me." I whisper to him, between kisses. But he doesn't make the motion to do it. Instead he keeps one hand on my cheek, the other balancing himself on the table. "Do I frighten you?" I ask.

"I'm afraid the moment I touch you, you'll vanish." He pauses, his voice just above a whisper. "If this is a dream, I'll kill the man who wakes me."

"I'm real, Benji." I cup his cheeks in my hands, pressing my forehead and nose to his. "I'm here, and I want you more than anything."

My words soothe him, and he finally puts his hands on my breasts, all without breaking our kiss. I moan into his lips. I feel his hardness between my legs, pressing into my thigh. I dare not look.

"You're proper gentle with me." I whisper into his lips, "Where did that man from these past few weeks go? The one who knocks me on the ground, the one who-"

He flips me onto my stomach, my cheek is pressed into the table and my breathing quickens at his roughness. He leans over me, his chest onto my back and his length pressing into my backside. He takes a handful of my hair and lightly pulls my head back to whisper into my ear, "Be careful what you wish for, my dear little Bracken."

I can't help but smile. This was all becoming so real. I finally had him where I wanted him (on top of me) and I never wanted him to leave. I wanted to savor this moment, to stay in it forever.

"I wish for you." I whisper. He plants little kisses on my cheek. He runs his fingers along my arms, before stopping at my hands to intertwine his fingers with mine.

He moves his hand back to my waist and gently pulls me up. He turns me around and kisses me again. His fingers come back to my breasts, gently rubbing them. He kisses my neck, whispering sweet little nothings as he gently rubs me.

"My girl. My Bracken. My sweet. My love." He whispers in my neck. My, my, my. All his.

He moves his fingers down my nape, slowly, painstakingly making their way down to my wetness. A gasp hitches in my throat, and my arms wrap around his neck for support. He continues to kiss my neck.

He softly begins to swirl his fingers around me, finding the little sweet spot in my folds. The feeling is so foreign and intense. My breaths are quick and shallow. I remember learning of this feeling, these sort of events from the maester, but Gods the books didn't do the feeling justice. They didn't do him justice.

"Benji." I moan his name, and he whimpers, quickening his pace on my nub, wanting to see my release. He softly and subtly pushes a finger in me, and then another, stretching me to fit the rest of him later. His thrusts start slow and gentle, then eventually increasing in pace at his desperate want to feel me release on his fingers.

I rest my head in the crook of his neck, my moans growing louder with each swirl and thrust of his fingers. His name leaves my lips like a prayer. I'm a mess beneath him, my body bending to his will. His length is so hard against my thighs. I desperately want him inside me.

He might not be showing it, but he's a wreck himself. My moans are sending him into a frenzy, my lips on his neck, his name on my lips nearly making him melt.

I grasp his hair with one hand, the other digging my nails into his back. He moans at the sweet pain, wanting to be any sort of grounding I need.

"I've got you, little Bracken." He whispers, urging my release.

That fucking pet name. The shameful things it does to me.

The foreign feeling in my stomach is at an all time high. The only way I can describe it is like lightening. It peaks, and my vision blurs. I nearly scream in shock and pleasure at the feeling, trying to quiet myself in his neck.

"Gods! Gods, Gods, Gods, fuck!" I moan.

"It's just me here. A Blackwood heir giving a Bracken Lady the sweetest feeling she'll find. What will people say about that? Will the Gods laugh at that irony?" He whispers, rubbing me through my high.

He felt like a different man. I felt like a different woman. Just weeks ago he bullied and fought me, treated me like the man I pretended to be. Now he touches me with such sweet love, such gentleness, holding me through the most intense feeling I'd ever felt.

He pulled his fingers from me, wet and sticky with my release. I was soaked; the table and my thighs were covered with me. He placed gentle kisses on my forehead, planting his hands back on my waist.

He pulls me from the table, walking backwards with a smirk on his face. He turns and gently pushes me on the cot before crawling over me.

His hips are between my legs, with one hand beside my head to hold himself up. The other hand gently rubs my thigh, slowly spreading my legs apart. His hands snake their way to my breast again, rubbing it softly before coming back to my waist.

My chest rises and falls quickly, a gentle fear washing over me. He notices. "Are you nervous?"

I nod. "Don't be. You're in control. I'll only do what my lady commands of me."

I nod again, slowly reaching my hand down to grasp his length. I grow more nervous at the size in my hand. He was going to ruin me.

I guide it to my slick, gently rubbing it against my folds. He gasps at the feeling, trying to maintain his composure and not slam himself into me.

My breaths are shallow and quick. The maesters didn't prepare you for the anxiety before the event.

"Sh. I've got you." He whispers, kissing my cheek. I rest my hand on the back of his head, my hand shaking as I play with his curls nervously. He places the tip inside my entrance, then brings his hand back to intertwine with my other free hand.

I'm gasping, barely able to catch my breath. "Focus." He rests his forehead on mine, both of us closing our eyes. "Breathe in, breathe out. Just like with the bow. We're one, an extension of each other."

"Are you a poet? You have a way with words I've never heard from you before." I laugh nervously, and he smiles softly.

His eyes await my approval, before I finally nod. I place my hand on his lower back, ready to guide his pace.

He enters me, and I gasp. My breaths go from quick and shallow, to none at all momentarily. He pauses, waiting to continue. I nod, he continues and I take a deep breath in as he goes the rest of the way.

I breathe out a small sob when he's all the way in. "I've got you, I've got you." He says, his hand resting on my cheek as his finger softly swipes the single tear that fell from my eye.

"I'm sorry." I whisper.

"Don't be sorry. You're mine. I'm yours."

His words soothe me, and my hands rest on his waist, gently starting to push him in and out.

The pain dulls, slowly becoming sweet and pleasurable. I pull him close to me, his chest touching mine, my arms wrapped around his neck. I moan in his neck, whining his name at the sweet feeling.

He moans my name back, whispering gentle words of encouragement. "My girl. You're taking me so good. You feel so sweet, so tight. I can't contain myself around you."

I press my forehead to his, both of us gasping and moaning as we look into each other's eyes, sharing an intense kiss occasionally.

"Gods, you treat me so well." I moan.

"My lady." He whines. Sweat drips down our bodies, the heat and humidity doesn't help but it's impossible to notice. All I can focus on is him.

"My lord. I'm close." I moan.

"Yes, yes, my lady." He urges me, moving his finger back down to my sweet spot. I moan at the intense feeling. His strong thrusts mixed with his rough fingers on my spot is too much to handle.

My words jumble together, a mix of his name along with pleading. He brings me to my peak, which was stronger than the last one. I cry out his name, tears stinging my eyes at the intense pleasure. My nails scratch his back until I draw blood.

He doesn't care about the pain, and keeps going until he knows he's milked the most pleasure out of me possible.

He reaches his climax shortly after, and lets out a sob. A sob, from his own peak being so strong. He holds me tightly, bringing me in for one last strong kiss before letting me go.

We don't move for a second, both of our chests heaving up and down, both of us staring at each other.

He says nothing, but moves off to lay beside me. It's quiet for a moment, as we both catch our breath. There's tension in the air though. He wants to say something.

I wasn't expecting his next words though.

"Don't marry the Lannister."

I immediately sit up and turn to look at him, searching his face for any signs of humor. All I see is a serious look on his face, and his body glistening with a thin sheen of sweat.

"Is this a jest?" I ask, annoyed.

He sits up beside me, taking my hand in his.

"Let me take you as my wife, Lady Bracken."

"Benji-"

"You begged me. Do you remember that night?" He asks. I nod. "I won't let anyone ever hurt you. I won't let them sell you off when you're finally useful. I won't force you to take my bed and give me heirs. You'll be your own person. You'll be a Blackwood."

"It would start a war. A war between our own kin. Brackens, Blackwoods, Lannisters, Hightowers... We wouldn't even survive."

He grabs my face, forcing me to look at him. I gasp at his touch.

"I will kill every person in the Riverlands, the Vale, Winterfell, King's Landing, Essos, Bravos, you name it... I'll kill everyone in this bloody world until it is just us left, if that's what it takes."

I caress his face, "Bloody Ben." I whisper.

He smiles softly, closing his eyes as he leans into my hand, pressing his lips to my palm. "I'll be your wife... On one condition."

"Say it and it is done."

I kiss him, pulling away to whisper, "Make me yours again."

He pushes me against the wall, wrapping his hand around my throat with a deep tender kiss.

"My Lady... I was expecting a challenge."

—————

Chapter 14: Back Where We Began

cw: more smut (it's rough) soft benji can't come to the phone rn he's dead

4 hours before the battle of the burning mill

𐂃 𐂃 𐂃 𐂃

"My love."

I open my eyes to see Benji looking at me, a soft smile on his face. His fingers twirl in my hair.

"Has the sun risen?" I ask, wiping the sleep from my eyes.

"Not yet. Soon, surely."

"Have you slept, my sweet?" I ask him.

"I'm afraid to."

"You, afraid? Why?"

"I'm afraid if I sleep, I'll wake and you're no longer there." He says. I smile and kiss his nose.

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm gonna stay right here and cause all kinds of trouble." I whisper.

"Can you dress? I want to go somewhere." He asks. I nod and we get up, putting back on our clothes.

He sneaks behind me, pressing his chest to my back and gently holding my waist, resting his nose in my neck to inhale the scent of my skin. "The war crimes I would commit to see you in a dress are unspeakable."

"Just wait, my sweet. Soon enough you'll be able to rip a white one off me." I say. He bites my neck, eliciting a moan from me.

He pats my bottom, giving me a soft push out the tent door. I feel his eyes lingering as I walk out.

The man had known who I was the whole time, knew what parts were beneath my brother's clothing, yet said nothing the whole time. He was a man starved. Now that the truth was out, he wanted nothing more than to feast for hours on end.

We left the tent and walked. A familiar walk, to a familiar spot.

"Why are we here?" I asked, recognizing the familiar rotted weirwood.

"I wanted to see it one last time." He said, "After today, we won't have to hide here."

I turn and smile at him. "Do you remember when we fought?"

He smiled back, "I remember the bloody strength it took not to pin you down and take you right on the ground for your sharp little tongue."

"It's not too late." I smirk at him.

"It is. You're my lady. I'll respect you like one now."

"Truly?" I ask, wondering if I could elicit a reaction from him.

"Tread carefully, my Lady." He smirks.

"But, what if I don't want to?" I ask, getting on my hands and knees, slowly crawling towards him seductively. I stop at his feet, looking up at him through my lashes. I kiss his muddy boots softly, slowly kissing my way up as I use his thighs for balance. I stop at his crotch.

"Did our last engagement not tire you?"

"No... Is my betrothed just another Blackwood cunt?" I tease. His smile fades.

"My dear little Bracken... Do not let your lust cloud your sense." He warns.

I rise to my feet. "Is that a threat, Benjicot?" I ask, placing my hand on his breeches, feeling his hardening length.

"A promise." He groans a bit, but keeps his voice steady.

"You won't hurt me." I say.

"No, I won't. I'll do something worse."

"Let's find out." I take a step back, removing my clothes until I'm naked in front of him.

He stands his ground, hands folded behind his back.

"I know a rather good ballad. Do you wish to hear it?"

"Y/N... Don't you dare." He says, his voice seething with anger as he knows what I will say.

I dared anyway. A poem, written by my brother as children was known to piss off any Blackwood beyond reason. It was crude, offensive, and untrue, but just what I needed to get Bloody Ben to come out and play.

"Blackwood cunt, the heir born a runt, his mother a whore, his father a bore. Riverrun assize, Aeron Bracken brought tears to his eyes-" He marched forward, grasping my neck and cutting off my beautiful song, shoving me against the weirwood.

My back scraped the hard bark, and I gasped at the pain but continued anyway. "Bloody Ben, Bloody Ben, Bloody Ben-" I antagonized him more.

He wrapped his hand over my mouth, "Close your fucking whore mouth, now. You're making this worse for yourself."

I gasped in his hand at his harshness.

"My dear, dear love... you have pushed my limits beyond words. You truly don't know when to quit." He says, his words thick with anger. "I think I've got a solution for that sharp tongue of yours."

"As for this wet little cunt," He says, reaching down to run a finger between my slick folds. "I'm not quite sure yet."

"Please," I beg, quietly.

"Hm? Please what, darling?" He whispers.

"I'm sorry-"

"Fuck your empty apology. You erred, little Bracken, and now you're earning the consequences." He says, "You truly want me to break you in rough? Even more than earlier?"

I nod. He contemplates it, not wanting to disrespect a Lady, but not wanting to deny her wishes either.

"Get on your knees." He pushes me down, grabbing a fistful of my hair in his fingers. "Undo me."

I quickly untie his breeches, releasing his length again for the third time in just hours.

With no warning, he shoves his length into my mouth. I whine, slobbering on his length. "Don't whine now, little Bracken. Your foul mouth was not that of a high born lady, so now I'll use it like a low born girl's."

He thrusts into my mouth, pushing me back and forth with his fist in my hair. Tears pour from my eyes as I gag on him, hardly even able to breathe. But, what can I say? He knew just how I wanted it. I didn't want Benjicot Blackwood, I wanted Bloody Ben.

"Perhaps I should fill this dirty mouth of yours with my seed. Will that quiet your sharp fucking tongue?" I whine on his length, moaning incomprehensible pleads of No. "No? I'd reckon you'd still run your fucking mouth anyway."

He pulls out, and I fall on my hands, gasping and choking for air as slobber spills from my mouth. He kneels and tilts my chin up to look at him, my eyes wet and soaked with tears.

"Now who's got the tears in their eyes?" He says, pushing my face back down and standing up. He removes the rest of his clothes, giving me the chance to catch my breath.

He pushes me flat on the ground with his hand, then presses his knee on my back, taking a fistful of my hair again. I gasp at the pain of his weight, and his knee touching the raw cuts from the tree.

"Ben, fuck!" I moan, as he uses his free hand to stick two fingers inside me. I slam my fist into the ground, moaning in sheer ecstasy. "Fuck, I can't..."

"You can, and will." He says, continuing to thrust his fingers in me.

"I'm close, I'm... so..." I trail off again, and he quickens his pace, all the while keeping his weight on me with his knee, preventing me from wiggling beneath his touch.

"Cum on my fingers again, Bracken whore." He commands, and I scream into the forest ground, releasing onto his fingers again. The Gods were definitely ashamed of us right now, doing this beneath a weirwood tree. This poor weirwood had suffered enough, now Benjicot was fucking me beneath it.

He doesn't stop, continuing to abuse my poor cunt, the once pleasure now stinging with a much stronger feeling. "Oh, please, B-Ben..."

"Feeling a bit too much now, Bracken?" He teases. I nod into the ground, whimpering in pain and pleasure. "Perhaps I don't know when to quit either."

My head is swirling with so many feelings. My next peak is already building up, and he knows. He removes his knee and climbs over me, removing his hand only to quickly reach it under my stomach to rub me at a different angle so he may tickle my sweet spot. My moans and pleas only urge him on, and before I know it I'm falling apart all over his fingers again. A wracking sob leaves my chest, and he finally gives my o poor cunt a break.

He smears my mess across my cheeks, then presses his chest close to my back so he can reach over to lick it off my face. "Is your little cunny finished?" He asks, kissing my cheeks once he's done licking them.

"Never." I barely whisper, my voice hoarse from screaming and moaning in ecstasy. He laughs, positioning his length at my cunt.

"Ready?" He asks. I push my hips back, forcing my self into his length. He gasps, a whine leaving his lips.

"Apparently, you weren't." I smirk. He growls, taking a fistful of my hair and pushing my face into the ground.

"You're such a dirty little whore." I moan at his crude words, matching the rhythm of his thrusts with my hips. He slams into me, over and over, and I reach my hand back to soften his thrusts, but he takes my wrist and pins it against my back.

"Don't touch me." He moans. His hands grip my wrist and waist so tightly I know I'll be bruised by sunrise. He pushes me down so my chest is on the floor, he lets go of my wrist and his hand reaches up and intertwines with my fingers, holding me through my last climax.

"I'm gonna fill you up with so many fucking Blackwood babes."

"Fucking do it then." I urge before he releases himself inside me, thrusting into my cunt with such urgency.

He rolls beside me, but I don't move from being face down on the forrest floor.

He notices, and immediately places a hand on my back, "My Bracken, are you alright? Did I hurt you?"

"No, my lord." I laugh, softly. "But, you've truly tired me this time."

"Let us wash in the rivers and return home."

"Home?" I ask.

"Yes, my love. Let's go home." He kisses my forehead. "Let me take you home."

I stand and we walk and jump into the flowing stream. We laugh as we wash ourselves and play fight, enjoying the most serene moment. The sun rises and the birds sing us their songs.

We didn't know it yet. Perhaps if we had, we would have savored the moment just a bit more. Perhaps, we would never have even returned back to our lands. We should've stayed there forever, in the flowing stream, holding each other, smiling, laughing. We knew peace.

In just a few hours, we would never know it again.

#benji blackwood #benjicot blackwood #davos blackwood #hotd season 2 #hotd #house blackwood #benjicot blackwood x reader #benjicot x reader #bloody ben #house of the dragon imagine #house bracken #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon

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