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incorrect-missionimpossible · 3 years

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Uh I don't know if you're still taking prompts but I'm dying to read something where Ethan finds out Benji has tattoos (just likes Simon's) and Ethan is all ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡(ӦｖӦ｡) I even have some fanart in my blog or at Instagram @ biablioteca xoxo

hi!! thank you for the prompt :D this took me a while to answer, my apologies for that hhhhhhhh. the fanart is here if anyone wants to check it out, it's really good!!

without further ado, the fic, 1448 words long. enjoy!!

read on ao3!!

[---]

tattoos [that i didn't know you had]

“Hey,” Benji whispers. Ethan tilts his head towards Benji, acknowledging him. They’re curled up in the back of a van with Jane; Will’s driving and Ilsa’s sitting next to him. Jane is asleep on Ethan’s shoulder, the white bandages around her leg bright in the dim light of the van. They’re returning from a mission, a long, exhausting one and it required all of Ethan’s team, excluding Luther, who was on his honeymoon.

“I think I’ve been shot,” Benji tells Ethan quietly, and Ethan jerks up, all thoughts of sleep forgotten. Jane groans as he dislodges her.

“What?” Ethan hisses. “Benji-”

Benji understands. “Bullet went through me. I’m bleeding quite a lot. Um, it was numb, but not anymore. I’ve got a cloth bunched up against it.”

Ethan knocks on the sliding door between the storage and driver’s seat. “Will,” he says loudly. Ilsa slides the door open and pokes her head through.

“What?”

“Benji’s been shot. Drive faster.”

Ilsa’s eyes widen; she’s clearly too tired to police her emotions. She nods and a moment later, the van moves faster with a screech.

---

Benji’s almost passed out by the time they reach the safe house. Ilsa helps her girlfriend limp inside the house, while Will rushes inside to get the first aid kit ready. Ethan half carries Benji, stumbling through the cold night air into the house as lights flicker on inside.

Jane’s collapsed on a chair, her face pale and sweaty. Her bandages need changing, and Ilsa notes Ethan’s glance at them before grabbing a pile of bandages and handing Jane a flask of whiskey she downs in a gulp.

Ethan winces as Benji moves away the bloody cloth he’d been clutching to his side, revealing his bloody flannel. It’s soaked through.

“How did it take you so long to tell me about this,” Ethan asks, concealing his anger.

Benji shrugs. “Jane was shot. Her wound was more lethal. Forgot about mine.”

“You forgot- how did you-” Ethan runs a hand through his hair, frustrated beyond measure. How did Benji just, forget about his fucking gunshot wound. Ethan wants to punch something.

Will enters the living room, carrying a tray with needles, thread, scissors and alcohol. “Remove your flannel,” he says testily. He looks harried, in a way Will rarely does.

Benji looks up at Ethan, and Ethan, helpless in the face of his eyes, removes the flannel gently. He blinks in surprise at what it reveals, Benji has tattoos.

Ethan stares at them as Will stitches Benji up, Benji’s hand crushing his. They twine around Benji’s left shoulder and the top of his arm, not going beyond where a shirt would. They’re designs Ethan can’t quite make out, but they’re gorgeous. There’s another on Benji’s collarbone, surrounding the delicate bone. It’s partially covered by Benji’s tank top, and Ethan shocks himself with how much he wants to see the rest of it, and any other tattoos Benji might be hiding.

“Done,” Will interrupts Ethan’s train of thought, and Benji lets go of Ethan’s hand, his head falling back, exposing the long line of his neck.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, and Ethan lets out a chuckle. “I’m never getting shot again.”

“I think that would be a bit difficult, with our line of work,” Will says, amused. He lets out a yawn, and so does Benji.

“Bed?” Ethan asks softly. Benji nods. Will takes his leave, heading up to the room he’s claimed as his own. Ilsa waves at them before picking up Jane, who’s too tired to protest, and climbing up the stairs.

Ethan presumes they’re heading to the second bedroom. He smiles at Ilsa and moves to the sofa, pulling it out and working on turning it to a bed. “I didn’t know you had tattoos,” he starts, keeping his voice as casual as he can.

Benji starts. “These little things?”

Ethan wouldn’t call them little, exactly, they cover Benji’s shoulder and collarbone, and there’s another one on Benji’s right arm. “Yeah.”

“I got them at Oxford,” Benji says, a light smile dancing on his face. “Stupid dare. Asked the artist to do them so they’d be covered by my t-shirts. Looks like he did his job pretty well, huh? The best spy in the IMF didn’t know I had tattoos.”

Ethan grins at Benji, enjoying the twinkle in his eyes. “Not my fault I’ve never seen you in anything but geeky shirts and flannels.”

“You just had to ask,” Benji says, careless as anything, before turning bright red. “I- not that I would just undress for anyone, I mean, like, it’s-”

Ethan pats Benji’s shoulder. “Benj,” he says warmly, and Benji stutters to a stop.

“Thanks,” Benji says, relaxing.

Ethan helps Benji up and into the bed, before sliding in next to him. “I think they’re cool,” he whispers.

A flush overtakes Benji’s face. “Thanks,” he replies, sounding pleased.

Ethan offers him a small smile, before leaning over to flick off the lights.

---

The second time Ethan sees Benji’s tattoos, they’re on a mission slash vacation in Costa Rica. Ethan’s team had been sent to track the movements of an American on the CIA’s Most Wanted list, but he’d left before they could catch him. The hotel they’d booked was for a week, and Ethan managed to coerce the IMF into allowing them to stay and make use of the money that went into the mission.

Jane and Ilsa had their own room, of course, and Will claimed a single for himself. Ethan and Benji had a double to themselves, with two queen sized beds.

“Heaven,” Benji groans, from his bed. He’s sprawled out on it, his shirt riding up a little, revealing a sliver of skin. Ethan swallows and looks away.

“I’m going to hit the beach,” he tells Benji, who makes some grunting noises, not moving from where he looks like he’s trying to bury himself in his bed.

Ethan chuckles and shakes his head, fond, before heading to the bathroom to change and gather his things. He leaves Benji, who’s curled up in a little ball on the bed, to his own devices, and thinks he deserves some sun and a good hour or two with his paperback.

---

Ethan’s about 40 pages into his book when he sees Benji. His eyes widen, and his mouth drops a little, because, well, wow.

Benji’s shirtless, and he’s built [which isn’t a shock, really; Ethan’s always been able to see the lines of his lean body under his tighter t-shirts], but it’s the tattoos that take his breath away.

They cover his entire torso and chest, curving around the muscles carefully. Ethan is pretty sure the tattoos are vines, and they look stunning in the sunlight, enhancing Benji’s build. Ethan is up and moving towards Benji without a second thought, and Benji grins at him.

“Hey,” he says, once Ethan is in earshot. Ethan doesn’t say anything, and Benji’s smile turns a little bemused. Ethan stops once he’s close enough to Benji that if he took one more step and leant forward a little-

Anyways.

His hands flutter around Benji’s skin, not touching, just, hovering. “Little?” Ethan breathes in disbelief.

Benji realizes Ethan’s looking at his tattoos. “Oh. Yeah. Those ones happened later. Took me about five sessions to get it done. Extraordinarily painful.”

Ethan exhales slowly. “Can I-” he moves his hands jerkily. He’s just understood how close to Benji he’s standing.

“Yeah,” Benji nods, studying Ethan with a small frown on his face.

Ethan touches the beginning of the first vine with a finger, and when Benji doesn’t say anything, he continues, tracing the path of the twining plant around Benji’s body. He’s careful, avoiding the scars and bruises. Ethan ends up on the design on his collarbone, and he looks up, into Benji’s eyes.

He can’t read them; he doesn’t know what Benji is going to do or say. Ethan moves to step back, but Benji whispers “Ethan,” and he stops.

Benji slides a hand under his chin [their height difference makes it easier for him to do that,] and tilts Ethan’s head up a little.

Ethan gives in to his impulses. He leans in, and presses his lips to Benji’s.

Benji kisses back immediately, sliding his hands around Ethan’s waist and closing the tiny distance between their bodies. Ethan gets a hand on Benji’s cheek and another pressed on his chest

Later, Ethan will trace the tattoos again, Benji will tell him the stories of how he got them, and Ethan will place a light kiss to all of them. They’ll share a queen-sized bed.

But for now, they stay there, kissing deeply, the sun burning the back of Ethan’s neck.

[---]

yes i KNOW the ending isnt very great hjfhkjshdsjk but here u go anyways :)

thanks for reading!!

#benthan #mission: impossible #mission impossible #mi #benji x ethan #ethan x benji #my writing #prompt answers

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supernaturalnovelsandmore · 3 years

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Supernatural Novel: Bone Key

Welcome to my not-quite review of the third Supernatural novel, Bone Key.

Author: Keith R.A. DeCandido

Timeline: Set after Episode 3.07 A Very Supernatural Christmas

Location: Key West, Florida

Synopsis: Sam and Dean head to Key West, Florida to investigate reports of supercharged ghosts. What they encounter is far deadlier and far older than they ever anticipated.

Warning: Spoilers abound!

I found this book very enjoyable. It was certainly a much faster read than the previous two. With the story being further along in the series, there are a lot of callbacks to prior episodes, mostly concerning Dean's demon deal.

LGBTQ+ representation: Sam and Dean stay at a B&B with a lesbian couple and another gay couple is highlighted. Normally, I wouldn't mention this, but the book was written in 2008, which may have been early for representation in the media (I'll admit I haven't paid close attention to the evolution of such), and I think is still relevant today. Of course, Dean is quite straight in the novel, going after multiple women, so it fits with canon.

Included are a few references to sexual situations, e.g., a woman being leered at by her step-brothers, to a ghost who was gang-raped. It's not graphic by any means, but it's interesting to see how a novel can share more than a tv series can (or at least get past the censors).

Bobby appears in the book as Sam and Dean share the New Year with him drinking champagne out of whiskey glasses. This whole scene leads into a page's worth of trolling Ryan Seacrest. LOL!!!

Dean: "Who's the genius who thought replacing Dick Clark with Ryan Seacrest was a good idea?"

Sam: "Well, he was on American Idol."

Dean: "Dude, you are not equating being on that lame-ass Star Search wannabe show with American Bandstand, are you?"

Bone Key has fewer references to the boy's past than the previous two books, but here is a fun bit: "I don't need to make myself tall, Dean, I am tall," Sam said in that tone he always used when he gloatingly reminded Dean that, for all that Sam was the "little" brother, he had a good three inches on Dean. Sammy'd been using that tone since hitting his growth spurt at age fourteen and shooting past Dean on the height chart. Back then, of course, Sam provided those reminders approximately once every five minutes. "Hey," teenaged Sam would say, "can I borrow your jacket? Oh, wait - it's too small for me!""

In addition to the above, the book mentions John trying to put Dean in martial arts classes and it eventually failing because they moved around too much, and Dean's more of a brawler.

There's additional insight into Dean's intelligence that I find fits very well with canon after both acknowledging they know what laissez-faire means: 'When they were kids, Sam was always the book-smart one who liked studying, while Dean was more of the type to beat up the nerds, and who hated admitting to knowing anything. Smart made you an outcast, and given their hard-traveling ways, Dean had enough issues in school with that. So he adopted the jock persona of not caring about learning anything. That tendency still bled into his personality, to Sam's annoyance, to the point where Dean would profess ignorance on subjects Sam knew damn well he was knowledgeable about. Anything to not be the nerdy kid."

First, I don't believe for one second that Dean beat up nerds. Bullies, yes. Second, I can totally see the not wanting to seem smart as part of Dean's personality. He does this multiple times in the tv series. Sometimes Sam calls him on it, other times he lets him get away with it.

At one point, a demon requests that the boys work with them so they can both get rid of the 'big bad'. They are reluctant, as they should be, but then she brings up Ruby. Most of that fits with canon, but there was this part that confused me because I don't remember anything like this in the TV series: 'Ruby had also dropped some hints about Sam and Dean's mother that were leading Sam down some disturbing roads - sufficiently disturbing that he hadn't shared Ruby's revelations (and his own research) on the subject with Dean.'

If anyone remembers what that might be about, let me know!

As the end nears, there is a lot of Dean worrying about Sam, and a final showdown that basically uses the love he has for Sam as an anchor and uses that power to destroy the big bad.

Some final notes:

Funny scene: Dean has to pick up Bobby at the airport (yes, Bobby took a plane). His fear of flying comes back in full force, so much so that he seriously considers smoking. In fact, if he's going to Hell anyway, what's the harm? Luckily, budgetary reasons win out. Smoking is expensive.

Brotherly moment/Hurt Dean: I'll let this section speak for itself: 'Dean had suffered plenty of pain in his life. He'd been beaten up, beat down, shot at, stabbed, cut, electrocuted, punched, kicked, bit, thrown across more rooms than he could count, and run over by a Mack truck. If you combined all that pain, It was only a fraction of what Dean felt now.... No matter how bad it got, though, he refused to let the protection for Sam and the others falter. It didn't matter if he died in the effort - he was dead anyhow - but that sonofabitch wasn't taking Sam with him.'

Extra Bonus: For readers of my other blog: '[People] came in from the parking-lot entrance, as Megan had, past that smelly guy who was selling his poetry.'

#Supernatural #Supernatural Novels #Supernatural Books #SPN Novels #Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester #Bobby Singer #Bone Key

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scribbledghost · 3 years

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Ok so for context my mind hasn't let go of the thought of Whiskey being on a mission and him visiting a coffee shop where the reader works and them developing a relationship. Now I don't have a lot of it planned out but the one scene I've been thinking about recently goes as follows: Basically, at this point the reader and Whiskey have flirted and exchanged numbers and all that jazz and so one night for some reason the reader is up late and they hear a knock at their door and lo and behold it's our boy Jack and he's managing to stand up straight but before either of them have time to say hello or ask what the fuck is going on he slumps against the doorway and the reader sees that he's got some sort of wound and he's bleeding through his shirt and so just out of instinct the reader slides his arm over their shoulder and walks him through their little apartment to the bathroom where they sit him down and are just like "take off your shirt" and while Jack does his best to be like, "take me out to dinner first" they aren't having any of it and he sees it on their face and he winces trying to take it off so they have to help him and all the while this is happening they asking questions of like "how the hell did you get shot" and "what were you doing to prompt this" because they know Jack can be a bit of a dumbass sometimes and somehow it comes out that he's an agent for the statesman and the reader is like "A SECRET AGENT????" and he flinches a little bit because of sudden movement and whatnot and they apologize and go back to tending his wound and then he asks how they know how to fix up an injury like this and I haven't figured out why they know yet but anyways they tell him and eventually they finish up and they tell Jack to wait there and they get him one of their sweatshirts cuz his shirt is still covered in blood and he's still a little sore so they help him up and it's already been established that he's staying the night so he tries to make his way to the couch but you immediately are like "you dumb motherfucker you just got shot and you think you're going to sleep on the couch???" and you take him to your room and get him situated and yeah that's the end of my thought

LISTEN I LOVE THIS

And just imagine afterwards, when you’ve gotten him settled in a real bed, he just subconsciously pulls you to him. It’s like you’re his own security blanket, whether he really acknowledges it or not. In the morning, while you’re changing the bandages, he just keeps a hand on your hip, grounding himself as you tend to him. Once you’re finished, he looks at you, those warm brown eyes gazing at you with an expression you cant read.

Something changes between the two of you then, and you both know it. Jack’s still too fragile (both physically and mentally) to do much about it at present, but once he heals, you can definitely feel that change get a lot more noticeable between the two of you.

#asked and answered #ragh-barkrock #agent whiskey

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nomdeguerreblogs · 4 years

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hello!! i don't know if you still into tommy x grace ....but if so, what do you think that season 3 would had be? in terms of their relationship with each other, and others, particularly grace with polly and ada. i miss them, and im terrible afraid of tommy and lizzie having more years together, and more kids.

Hello anon! I answered an ask a little while ago about how the Time Gap Tommy and Grace looked and hopefully that goes some way to answering this. The other part of your question - about how Grace interacted with other family members is tricky. I don’t think S3 tried very hard at all to answer it, but I do think it’s interesting. Because I want to know who Grace was (at least partly to know why THIS woman, why does Tommy who we know quite a lot about, love HER); and I want to know what she thinks of Tommy who, despite what SK thinks about his charismatic bad boy is not readily loveable; and I want to know what the family - especially Arthur, Ada and Polly - think of the pairing. The family members might have counterpointed Tommy’s grief too and given the audience a slightly more sympathetic way in (yes I know he bats away Arthur and Polly but…) Before I wander off who knows where…

Let’s start with Arthur, who you didn’t ask about, but I like, so. He remembers Grace in the Garrison covering for him taking cash and talking about manky cigarettes, and that he was attracted to her then too. He remembers watching Tommy watching her and being amused and pleased that his brother was doing something palpably normal and comprehensible; ie. lusting after a good-looking bird. He’s not capable at the time of appreciating the emotion though (“give her a good seeing to” I mean, Arthur please Tommy’s nearly proposing). The other thing Arthur brings in perspective is the idea of betrayal; after being scammed by his father he understands being manipulated by someone you love, and still loving them, and wanting things to be changed, better, kind. (FWIW, there are several parallels that begin way back in 1.05 between Grace and Arthur Sr, usually antithetical.) Arthur’s relationship with Linda seems to have taken Tommy’s with Grace as a bit of a template too. I would suggest that, just as much as Polly might, Arthur gets Tommy’s perspective in the relationship with Grace, just in a different way. It’s kind of a masculine perspective; he gets the lust and that she softens him, and finally in S3 he understands that’s good. He’s best man for a reason. Anyway, Arthur I think likes Grace in an uncomplicated way, and cheers them on. His “Sorry, sister” is possibly my favourite line of the entire series from anyone to anyone (it’s a close run thing with Tommy finally saying ‘I love you’) because it is the only one that indicates she is family, not just to Tommy, but the rest of them as well.

Now, Polly. *rolls up sleeves*

Oh my giddy fucking aunt where do I go with this? In series one, Polly and Grace have a frank exchange that is by turns tense, warm, charming and deadly and ultimately, woman to woman, honest. Polly intuits (way better than Tommy who has been thinking with his penis for episodes) some of Grace’s background (rich girl; Ulster Volunteer), and her opinions about her surroundings*. Grace gets to ask what Tommy was like before France and they connect briefly, because Polly sees how Grace really feels and understands it. They both love him, and recognise his extraordinariness, there is momentary compassion. After Polly has given the ultimatum - I run the business of the heart in this family and I will never accept you and if you’re not gone tomorrow I’ll shoot you (or something very similar, I’m rusty) - Grace also gets to deliver the final barb, and she’s right too when she tells Polly of her fear of losing him. Anyway, we learn quite a bit about Grace, and a bit about Tommy during this exchange (how many people have lost their minds to the line “He used to laugh. A lot.”? At least 98% of the fandom at last count). It is the ideal template for a parallel conversation in a different tone several years later - Gray and Shelby, hatpins at the ready, interpreting our dear protagonist and love and fear and loathing. Instead there was a suggestion that Polly has really let fly at Grace (“Tommy’s orders, no upsets tonight”), Grace’s handy expository monologue about the Russian business, her cheap shot about the power of her vagina to suck information out of him (“We were late coming down because we were having sex and then he told me everything”), and Polly trying to one-up her by telling her the final piece of the puzzle before the smug “remember I used to do this for a living.” Like the conversation in the first series, it’s about power (and don’t get me wrong I love that there are two female characters in this kind of dynamic) but that’s its limit, and that disappoints me because the characters have things in common (like, being desired by and shooting Campbell for example; wanting what is good for the family; actually knowing what it is to love Tommy and what a complicated business indeed that is; knowing how it is to work in a ‘man’s world’) that are richer and more interesting than their differences, yet it’s the differences that were emphasised.

AND ANOTHER THING. I’m not done with Polly yet. She is the emotion to Arthur’s lustful understanding. She ‘gets’ love: “Polly is never wrong about matters of the heart.” It is one of the first series’ most delightful twists that Polly, after chasing Grace out of town, gives Tommy the news that it was ‘for real,’ Grace did indeed love him. Perhaps this is cold comfort. Perhaps it is Polly’s way of telling him that his intuition wasn’t broken. And yet it is also Polly who tells Grace he might forgive her, giving hope she never imagined to have. Despite her threat in 1919, Polly is absolutely up to her neck in responsibility for allowing them to happen at all - I’m surprised Tommy hasn’t called a horse Polly’s Gift tbh - and I hoped S3 would acknowledge if not celebrate that fact. But it’s like SK only remembered the hatred and hardness. Beyond that, there’s this lowkey implication that Polly’s dislike for Grace colours her response to her death. Of all the characters, excepting Ada, Polly is the one who should have mined Tommy’s grief for the audience. But apparently Tatiana looks a little like Edna Purviance (Chaplin’s leading lady, you know?) to John and when you grieve you make bad choices. I mean. That’s it? Yep. That’s it. I know Tommy basically turned inwards and hardened his carapace to avoid descending completely into madness, but it is Polly’s job as a character to connect with emotion and empathise with grief, but she didn’t at all and it’s a bit baffling. Tommy is left wondering at the end of the series whether the family is worth all his effort, and Polly’s distance, brought on by her own romantic sub-plot and coolness towards Tommy’s chosen other half, is definitely part of that. But it feels cheap and thin when it could have been rich and gravy. (Just to clarify, while Tommy was definitely in no mood for a heart-to-heart she could still have been the audience’s anchor to the emotion in other ways, other conversations, actions. Polly doesn’t even mention Grace Shelby at the opening of the Institute bearing her name.)

OK, Ada. In my head, before the series began, I imagined Ada and Grace as warily respectful of each other and actually able to connect quite well. The biggest fly in their ointment is Grace’s responsibility for Freddie’s arrest in 1.04. But because it has never been mentioned since I’m not sure how it all fell; I’m also not convinced Ada wound up in a good place with Freddie before ‘pestilence’ took him so maybe that would colour her opinion too. They probably don’t see each other that much because Ada’s still largely committed to her cause in S3. Of all the characters, they are probably closest in terms of how they see Tommy - with hope and kindness (remember the way they both point out to him that he is loved on Derby Day?) - and, of all the characters, they are the two with reason to think this way. I wish I had heard a conversation between them because, like Polly’s, it could have been insightful.

Oh god and Lizzie and Tommy. I really dislike it. I really do. But it does seem to be endgame. I just consume vast quantities of whiskey before every episode now to deal with the pain. xx

*I have to point out that I’m not sure Grace exactly thinks the people of Small Heath are ‘scum,’ and also that Tommy sees himself as above them as well. Also while they are both loners, Grace is a loner in exile.

#ask #anon #tommy x grace #sorry this took so long #but yeah #that's how i roll #it's probably nothing like what you wanted either lol #but i ran away with myself a little #because i'm still frustrated and a bit upset about all the wasted potential here tbh

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ao719 · 6 years

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Reversed Royal Romance - Rise Up

Characters belong to Pixelberry

Title/Song Inspiration: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=kNKu1uNBVkU

A/N: AU-Reversed Roles- MC is Princess/Liam is the suitor

Summary: A bartender from New York City is invited to the Kingdom of Cordonia as a potential suitor for the Crown Princess.

Warning: This series will contain NSFW material. If you read, you acknowledge you are 18 or over.

Masterlist

@bobasheebaby @leelee10898 @riseandshinelittleblossom @3pawandme @speedyoperarascalparty @drakenazario @hopefulmoonobject @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @blackwidow2721 @lodberg @umccall71 @zaffrenotes @cocomaxley @katurrade @gardeningourmet @hhiggs @sweetest-marbear @ooo-barff-ooo @innerpostmentality @blackcoffee85 @indiacater @gibbles82 @iknewyoudcome @thecordoniandiaries @tornbetween2loves @smalltalk88 @mynameiskaylabella @alj4890 @gibbles82 @eileendannie @jadedpixiescribbles @mrsdrakewalkerblog @daniv2278 @annekebbphotography

Cassandra sat in her room staring at herself in her vanity mirror, her heart was racing and she couldn’t seem to shake these nerves that she had. She was going to be crowned queen in just a few hours and have to pick a suitor. The suitor part was easy. She was picking Liam, no questions asked, and she was excited about it. The whole becoming queen was what was freaking her completely out. Knowing that when she woke up in the morning she would be officially responsible for running an entire country. She took a few deep breaths trying to gather herself together, but it wasn’t working. She stood from her vanity going into her armoire and pulled out a bottle of whiskey she had stashed behind some dresses. She took a swig from the bottle. Leo tapped lightly at the door before pushing it open.

"Tonight's an important night, don't get entirely shit face." He chuckled

“Leo...I’m freaking out...I can’t do this...” she took another swig from the bottle sitting on the chaise lounge, her face grimacing from the burn. Leo walked into the room placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Yeah, I am sorry I put this on you. But Cass...you are ready for this. You're strong, confident, fearless and you don't take shit from anybody. The crown was always meant for you." She looked over at Leo giving him a smile.

“I just...thought I would have more time. I didn’t think I’d be picking a husband and ascending the throne in the same night...” Leo knelt down next to her, taking her hands in his.

“Courage is not the absence of fear but rather the judgement that something is more important than fear." She looked up at him taking in his words.

“Wow, Leo...that’s beautiful, and really deep.”

"Yeah...I heard it on a movie,” he chuckled.

“And which movie was this?”

"The princess diaries." He said it with such a straight face as he and Cassandra stared at each other for a moment before they busted out laughing.

“Thank you, Leo. Only you could make something like this turn into a joke,” she shook her head.

"Your welcome sweetie. Now, lets get you the crown and the guy." He rose from the ground pulling her into a hug before grabbing the bottle of whiskey and taking a swig for himself. He handed it back to her before walking out so she could get into her gown. She pulled out the gold glittering strapless ballgown, put it on and fixed her hair. She looked in her full length mirror. This is it. She took a deep breath and headed for the stairs.

Liam’s heart had been racing the entire day. This was the moment that he’d been waiting for since he arrived here in Cordonia and it was finally here. And, not trying to be cocky, but he was pretty sure Cassandra was going to choose him. He got ready standing in his suit as Olivia came busting through the door.

“It’s here! The day is finally here! And aren’t we looking dapper,” she smirked looking Liam over in his slick black suit. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m just ready to get it over with,” he smiled at her.

“Well...lets go get your princess,” she smiled as they made their way to the ballroom.

Cassandra made her way down the grand staircase where she was met at the bottom by Constantine and Regina, both giving her a smile.

“Darling, you look beautiful,” Constantine gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“You look stunning, dear,” Regina smiled at her.

“Thank you,” she smiled at them before taking her place in the receiving line.

She just wanted to see Liam. He somehow calmed her with just a look. She stood there in the line as each suitor came through, giving her a coronation gift. She looked up to see Liam making his way to the line and she smiled. He finally made it up to her and his eyes widened at the sight of her in her gown. He swept his gaze over her from bottom to top before his eyes met hers with a huge smile.

“Your highness,” he bowed kissing the back of her hand, being formal with Constantine standing right next to her. “I have a gift for you,” he smiled.

“Lord Liam,” she grinned taking the small box from him. She opened it and her head snapped up to him with a smile. She pulled out the small Statue of Liberty keychain. “Liam...how did you find this?” She grinned.

“I have my ways...I know how much you loved it, and I thought I’d give you a small reminder of how we met, too,” he gave her a quick wink as she let out a chuckle.

“I love it, Liam...thank you.”

“I’ll see you in there,” he kissed her hand before walking inside the ballroom.

She watched him as he walked away, a wide grin on her face, when she was pulled from her thoughts by Constantine clearing his throat. He nodded his head, as she had not realized that Duke Nathaniel was standing in front of her.

“Duke Nathaniel, it’s nice to see you again.” He bowed to her.

“As you, your highness. I have a gift for you,” he handed her a small box with diamond earrings inside.

“Wow, these are beautiful. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. It’s too bad you won’t be picking me tonight,” he gave her a curious look as Constantine looked over after hearing it.

“Princess Cassandra hasn’t made her choice yet Duke Nathaniel,” Constantine smiled warmly at him.

“Your Majesty,” he bowed, “I believe she may have. My cousin, Countess Madeline, told me that last night she caught Princess Cassandra and Lord Liam in a...compromising position with one another outside of the Princesses bedroom. So I don’t think she’ll be choosing me. But, I do thank you very kindly for a wonderful social season.” He bowed to both of them, and shot Cassandra a smirk before walking away. She turned to see Constantine’s crimson red face staring back at her with a narrowed gaze.

“My study...now!” Constantine stormed off. Cassandra closed her eyes taking a deep breath before she turned to walk to his study. She walked in and Constantine slammed the door behind her.

“Daddy, it’s not-“

“You listen to me young lady! Your behavior is completely unacceptable! You have favored Lord Liam since the moment he got here, not spending any time with the others! Do you think that is anyway to behave with a suitor?!”

“Daddy it was a kiss! That is what Madeline saw, a kiss! And yes! I think it’s perfectly fine to act like that with the person I’ll be choosing tonight to be my husband! Now if you’ll excuse me!!” She turned flinging the door open and walking out. Constantine picked up his phone.

“I need you to pull him out now......yes now! Before she returns.”

Liam and Olivia were standing together over by the buffet table waiting for Cassandra to come in. Bastien approached Olivia asking to speak to her and Liam outside the ballroom. She nodded, confused, but they followed him out. Once they got out of the ballroom they were grabbed by palace guards.

“What the fuck, Bastien?” Olivia yelled glaring at him. “Get your damn hands off me!”

“Olivia...I’m so sorry...I have orders from the King to have you and Lord Liam removed from the palace at once,” he gave her the saddest expression, and Olivia knew he didn’t want to do this, but he was following orders.

“For what reason?!” Liam shouted, his jaw clenching.

“I do not know, sir. I was just told this. Again, I’m so sorry.” The guards took Olivia and Liam away as Bastien walked back into the palace. He scanned the ballroom looking for Leo.

Cassandra walked back into the ballroom, her anger at a ten. She wanted to find Liam, but she also wanted to find Madeline and confront her. She decided to look for Liam to help calm her down. She walked around the ballroom and didn’t see him anywhere. She stopped and talked to Lady Penelope and asked if she had seen him or Olivia and she said no. She scanned around for Drake and spotted him by the bar and went over to him.

“Hey...have you seen Liv or Liam?” He tossed back his whiskey.

“Come to think of it...no. Not since they first got here,” he stood from his stool and scanned around the ballroom. “I’ll go look out front,” she gave him a nod. Cassandra walked around the ballroom some more still unable to find Liam. She bumped into Regina on her search.

“Are you alright, dear?”

“No! Why? Why does he do that?”

“He just thinks he’s protecting you. He doesn’t see that he’s being an ass in the process.” Cassandra smiled at Regina.

“Have you seen him...Liam? Or Olivia? I can’t find either one of them anywhere, and no one else has seen them either. It’s almost time for the ceremony....”

“I haven’t, but I’ll help you look. I’ll check over by the buffet. You check out on the balcony.” Regina placed her hand on her shoulder giving her a smile before walking off. Cassandra did as she said and made her way out to the balcony, but they weren’t out there either.

The evening had continued on, Drake and Cassandra still unable to find Liam or Olivia. Drake had called her phone and Liam’s phone multiple times with no answer. Both of them now concerned with where they had gone off too. Bastien walked out of the ballroom, still trying to find Leo when he saw him coming up from the wine cellar with a gorgeous brunette, adjusting his clothing as he made his way to the stop of the stairs with a smirk.

“Leo,” Bastien called as he walked up to him.

“Bas...uh, this is my date,” he grinned, “Alicia. Alicia, this is Bastien.” They both gave each other a nod. Alicia walked away to grab them some drinks.

“It’s a good night, ay Bas?” Liam clapped him on the shoulder.

“I wish I could say the same...Leo...your father had me take Liam and Olivia from the ballroom and remove them from the palace.”

"Jesus, now why doesn’t that surprise me. Do you know where he has taken them?" He shook his head.

“I just found out that he sent them back to Lythikos to Olivia’s Duchy.” Drake ran up to them, on the phone with Olivia.

“Liv says they were dragged out!”

“Yes, we know.” Just then the chimes went off to start the ceremony for Cassandra’s crowning. They all turned their gaze into the ballroom as Constantine walked to the front.

“The moment we have been waiting for all season has arrived. It has been my great honor to serve Cordonia these last few decades. We’ve had turmoil, but Cordonia has pulled together even during our toughest times. I couldn’t be more proud to have been Cordonia’s King. And I only now pass the Crown to Princess Cassandra because I know she’ll carry on exactly as I have. I couldn’t ask for a better successor. You will be the Queen that Cordonia needs. Reliable, steady, wise and just. You are every bit of the Queen is always hoped you would be. Today I pass the Royal signet ring to you. Cordonia is yours, my daughter.” He gave Cassandra the ring and placed the family’s royal crown upon her head. She kept scanning the ballroom for Liam, her eyes beginning to sting, she tried blinking back the tears as all eyes were on her. She didn’t understand where he would have gone. The crowd erupted in applause as she stood, Constantine giving her a kiss on the cheek. “It is now time for Queen Cassandra to pick her suitor,” he smiled. Cassandra’s Heart was racing, she just wanted to find Liam. Suddenly phones began going off one by one, everyone pulling them out.

Drake and Leo stood with Bastien, Drake still on the phone with Olivia as their phones began to go off as well. Leo pulled his phone from his pocket, his face turning bright red as he began clenching his jaw. He thrusted the phone in Drake’s face.

“Ask Liam what the fuck this is?” He spoke through gritted teeth. Drakes eyes went wide as he relaid to Olivia that everyone was seeing photos of Liam and Kiara together kissing in his room at Applewood Manor. Leo stood there waiting, seething in anger.

“Liv says they’re a set up! She said she was there that night! We need to tell Cass!”

Cassandra stood there, her heart feeling as if it was beating out of her chest as she stared at these pictures of Liam and Kiara kissing. Her eyes filling to the brim with tears. She had a feeling that Constantine was behind the photos being released, but that didn’t explain the photos in the first place. Why was Liam kissing Kiara? Something wasn’t right. She knew deep in her heart that Liam wouldn’t do this to her. She felt her bottom lip beginning to quiver, the tears threatening to spill out. Suddenly she felt a tug at her arm and looked to see Leo. He pulled her down to him, whispering something in her ear. It was a set up.

“Princess Cassandra, you need to make your choice,” Constantine smiled at her. She was panicking. She didn’t want to choose any of these people. She wanted to choose Liam. She turned pulling Constantine and Regina into her.

“These photos are not what they seem!” She spoke in a harsh whisper, glaring at Constantine.

“You must make a choice! And Lord Liam is not here! His name is now attached to a scandal! So you must pick someone else!” Constantine narrowed his eyes at her before turning back to the crowd. Cassandra closed her eyes as the tears started to fall. Regina pulled her closer, so Constantine could not hear her.

“Do you believe the photos are fake?” She nodded her head yes, more tears falling.

“He wouldn’t do this to me, Regina. I know he wouldn’t.”

“Well then....only a strong Queen would be brave enough to stand alone until she can be with the one she loves.” She gave her a quick wink, turning back to the crowd. Cassandra took in her words. Stand alone. She rose standing straight up, wiped her tears and turned to face the crowd.

“I choose...no one.” Constantine shot his head towards her, his body vibrating in anger. “I will not choose to be with someone whom I do not love. I am perfectly capable of ruling standing alone. Thank you.” She snapped her head to Constantine glaring at him before she stormed off. The crowd stood there stunned at first, but then broke out into wild applause. Drake and Bastien went running after Cassandra.

“Cass! Wait!”

“Your Majesty,” Bastien bowed. It was weird for her to hear it for the first time. “Your father ordered me to take Olivia and Liam out of the ballroom and remove them from the palace. He didn’t tell me why, however.”

“Olivia is the one that said the photos were a set up. She was there that night.” Cassandra stood there for a moment.

“Bastien, I need you to look into these photos. Any and everything you can find on them, who took them, who released them. I want it all. And where is Liam and Olivia now?”

“Lythikos,” Drake replied.

“Go there, be with Liv. I’ll call you.” He nodded as he took off and Bastien bowed before he walked away. She stormed off to her room. Leo had brought his date, Alicia, up to his room.

“Listen...I need to take care of some things, and check on my sister and make sure she’s ok. Stay here...I’m not done with you yet,” he shot her a smirk as he slapped her ass and gave her kiss. Leo walked out to look for Cassandra. He checked her room and she wasn’t there, checked back in the ballroom and she wasn’t there. He went outside to the garden maze, she wasn’t there either. He spent almost an hour looking for her, when it dawned on him. Her old hiding spot where she went when something was really wrong. The same place he found her the night her mother died. He walked into the palace armory and spotted Cassandra sitting on the floor buried under a pile of tule and fabric, a bottle of whiskey clenched in her hands. He walked over to her looking at her tear stained face.

“Cass, were gonna get to the bottom of who ever set this up."

“Leo...” she put the bottle to her lips and took a swig, tears rolling down her face, “I was supposed to choose Liam tonight...and now I’m alone.”

"Cass, sweetie, you are not alone. We will get to the bottom of this. And you can be with Liam.”

“He probably thinks I just abandoned him...I need to go get him.” She rose from the ground, still clutching the bottle, her face turning angry before she took another sip. “But first....first I’m going to confront that asshole....”

"Whoa, whoa, whoa... I'm all for you telling dear old dad off...but you're not going alone." Leo said as he grabbed the bottle from her hand, taking a swig. "Im going with you,” he spoke with a strained voice as the whiskey burnt his throat. Cassandra and Leo walked down the hall to Constantine’s study. She threw the door open to see him sitting there.

“Cassandra! You are supposed to knock!”

“Uh, no. Guess who’s study this is now...mine.” She crossed her arms with a narrowed gaze.

“You had Liam and Olivia escorted from the grounds. You had your own choice of suitor and couldnt stand that Cass wanted someone else. Just like you did to me with Madeline.” Leo spoke up defending Cassandra. Constantine went to speak but Cassandra stopped him.

“You don’t get to order me around anymore. I am now the Queen, and I do not take orders from you. I will find out who was behind these photos of Liam. And so help me if it was you...” she stared at him before shaking her head, turning and walking out. Leo shot Constantine a smirk before following her out of the study.

“Cass! Where are you going now?”

“You need to return to Alicia who’s waiting in your room, I’m going to Lythikos to get Liam.”

#choices trr #the royal romance #trr fanfic #trr #trr mc #trr liam #liam rhys #choices liam x mc #trr liam x mc #liam x cassandra #coronation ball #reversed #princess #queen #Queen Cassandra #trr leo #leo

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ellanainthetardis · 7 years

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Could you please do something during the games where haymitch and Effie sleep in the same bed but don't have sex because Effie is on her period and they realise how domestic it is?

Here you go! [X]

A Trial Run In Domesticity

There were papers everywhere. Schedules,speeches, to-do lists, piles of notes concerning mayors’ names, possible safetopics of conversations for the children to start during the various dinners…Effie’s bed was covered with them, so were the floor around it and both hernightstands. She and Haymitch were sitting with their backs to the headboard,trying to make sure the next District stop would run smoothly.

It was late, Effie’s eyes were burning and thelight rocking of the train, as it rushed into the night to District Eight,wasn’t helping her sudden bout of sleepiness. She shifted for the third time inas many minutes, trying to relieve the latent pain in her lower back. She couldhave taken a pill but the bottle was on her dressing table, too far away forher to reach – besides, moving would disrupt the system they had going and shewasn’t about to do that until they were ready to tidy up and go to bed. It wasa pain to organize.

“What’s wrong?” Haymitch grumbled, not lookingup from the speech she had prepared for Peeta. He was adding notes in themargins here and there. She would need to rewrite it. And then copy it oncards. In the morning, she decided. After a few hours of sleep.

“Nothing, why?” she hummed, snatching herpersonal schedule from the nightstand to add writing cards on it. She would need to get up earlier but she couldsqueeze it before breakfast.

“You’re squirming.” he replied, distracted.“It’s annoying.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t rise to thebait. Annoying was the now emptyglass of whiskey that he had placed on her nightstand despite her rule about him never bringing liquor into her bedroom.She could smell it from where she was sitting. The only reason she hadn’treally argued was because he had brought her some of her favorite tea alongwith it.

The tea was long gone too now…

She shifted again, wishing she could haveanother mug of it. Or perhaps coffee. If they were going to continue workingthrough the night, she would need coffee.

He shot her an irritated glance, probablybecause she had moved once more.

“My apologies but I am tired anduncomfortable.” she snapped. “We should have stuck to the living-room car.”

The living-room car had couches that would havebeen easier on her back than the wooden headboard. Better yet, they could haveremained in the dining-room car where there were chairs, a table and beverages easily accessible.

“It’s youwho claimed the kids keep wandering at night and that they would walk in andmess with everything.” he pointed out. “So calm your tits, sweetheart.”

“Language.”she huffed, slamming her schedule back on her nightstand.

“Nobody said you couldn’t get comfortable.” hescowled. “It’s two a.m. Who fuckingcares if you get in your pajamas.”

She pursed her lips at him because he certainly had no problem making himself at home in her room. He had toed off hisshoes long ago, his waistcoat and his jacket had been tossed on her dressingtable’s stool, his shirt was half unbuttoned, and his sleeves were rolled upalmost to his elbows – which she actually quite enjoyed because there wereworse sights than his muscular forearms.

“How long does it take to read a speech?” shesighed. “And honestly couldn’t you beneater? How do you expect me to read those scribbles of yours?”

His handwriting was atrocious. She had painfully grown used to it with the years andshe could decipher it easily enough nowadays but it still took efforts. Sheusually didn’t comment on it because it was a sensitive subject. He had quittedschool at sixteen and his attendance before that hadn’t been stellar from whatshe had gathered – feeding his family had been a more pressing concern thangoing to school. He wasn’t really proud of his butchered education. He had acurious mind and he might have been the smartest person she knew though, he hadcompensated for it by himself through books – and he had done an impressive jobof it, in her opinion, he was more well-learned than a lot of Capitols sheknew. But there were things that betrayed him and the handwriting he rarely haduse for was one of them.

She regretted the gibe as soon as it hadslipped past her lips.

“Sorry.” she offered immediately, before hecould retaliate. “I am tired.”

His offended scowl slowly turned into a sulk.“You’re cranky.”

“I suppose I am, yes.” she admitted, pattingher orange wig. Her scalp was starting to itch and she threw caution to thewind and started removing pins.

The look he tossed her probably meant she shouldhave done that earlier – and he mighthave had a point. After all, it wasn’t like he had never seen her without a wigon. But it wasn’t natural to her to workwith someone – even him – without a wig or proper clothes. They worked togetherand they had sex together, those were two very separate things in her mind.

“I’m almost done with this one.” he said. “Iwanna check Katniss’ again but you can start packing that up if you want. We’redone with schedules and notes.”

Schedules and notes were more her specialty anyway. He only listenedto what she had to say because the Tour was going to hell. He had neverbothered before.

She slipped her wig off and tousled her blondcrumpled hair, then she gathered everything in the right order. Once thereweren’t papers everywhere – saved from the speeches he was still reviewing –she got off the bed and to her dressing table. She took her make-up off,noticing his grey eyes were tracking her every move instead of focusing on thenotepad in his hand.

“Haymitch.” she reminded him, pursing her lipsat him in the mirror.

He smirked and gave her a small shrug. “Allwork and no play…”

“Nothing is happening tonight.” she said veryfirmly. “Do not give yourself any idea.”

She stood up and walked to the wardrobe,rummaging inside until she found the blue dress she was planning on wearing inEight the following day. She carefully hung it at the front of the rack,pulling out the matching heels and placing them in easy reach. It would be again of time.

“Always helps you to sleep when you’re tired…”he insisted, his gaze roaming over her body.

“Even so.” she retorted, fishing silky greenshorts and their matching lacy top from a drawer. “Tonight is not a good time.”

He grabbed her wrist when she passed by the bedin the direction of the bathroom, tugging a little. “You’re angry at me,sweetheart?”

He was actually pouting, as if she would withdraw sex as a punishment for whatevercrime he had committed – well… she hadbeen known to do just that but it made her wonder what he had been up to behindher back that he felt she might have punished him for.

“Take a hint, Haymitch.” she muttered. “It is not a good time.”

It took a few seconds for understanding to dawnon his face. He let go of her wrist as if he had been burned, with a quiet ah.

“Explains why you’re cranky, I guess.” heshrugged.

She wasn’t sure that particular situation hadever occurred before. Usually, she simply avoided his attentions for a few dayswhen it was that time of the month, but living together in a penthouse duringthe Games and living together on a train were two different things. The Tourwas a lot more close quarters than she would have liked. It had been less spontaneous sex lately and more sex at night behind closed doors. Itfelt like a shift in their – non-acknowledged – relationship.

They worked late and they didn’t get a lot ofrest, if they slept together after a work session, he tended to remain in herbed because it was only for a couple of hours and it seemed stupid for him tostroll the train’s corridors in the middle of the night. He had been anxiousabout his night terrors at first but… She was used to them, she knew what tonever do – touch him or remain close enough that he could hurt her – and whatto actually do – call his name andtoss things at him from a safe distance until he woke up. She had noticed hehad less nightmares when he slept with her. It was Katniss’ screams that wereechoing through the night nowadays, not his.

Nevertheless, the situation felt awkward. Shehad never ever discussed this sort ofthings with a man before. Propriety made it almost a taboo subject. There werethings you never talked about if youhad the correct upbringing.

A Capitol man would never have made a joke likethat. They would have perhaps acknowledged the hint with a discreet nod andswitched topic because that was theproper thing to do. Not that Effie would have admitted as much to a Capitol manin the first place. Men tended to be disgusted by it and perfection was key inthe city.

Haymitch didn’t really look disgusted. Just abit uncomfortable.

She ducked into the bathroom, choosing to fleerather than to face the oddness. She decided it was another example of thecultural differences that existed between the Districts and the Capitol.

She took her sweet time in the bathroom, hopinghe would have been done with the speeches and, thus, would be gone by the timeshe walked out.

What she didn’texpect was to find the speeches neatly piled on the nightstand, his pants,underwear and socks abandoned on the floor, and Haymitch himself in her bed,sprawled on his stomach, the sheets and blankets kicked to his knees.

She didtake a few seconds to admire the glorious view – it was a masterpiece, as far as she was concerned: the lines of hisback, the few faded scars, the butt that begged to be bitten, the strongthighs, the slightly hairy calves… Even the soles of his feet… She knew she wasin too deep because there was nothingabout his body she didn’t find attractive.

She could definitely understand why the Capitolhad gone crazy for the Quell’s victor twenty-five years earlier. He was handsome still.

And he was hers.

All hers.

“You’re staring.” he mumbled, eyes closed, hisface half buried in the pillow he had commandeered. “Get your pretty ass inbed, Effie.”

She licked her lips, not quite sure he hadunderstood her after all.

“Haymitch, I have my period.” she clarified,too tired to beat around the bush.

He opened an eyelid to study her. “Yeah, gotthat.”

“I am nothaving sex with you.” she clarified.

“Also got that.” he scoffed. “I ain’t totally clueless, sweetheart.”

“You are naked.In my bed.” she deadpanned. “Excuse me for expressing some doubts.”

She switched the lights off and climbed overhim to get to what was quickly becoming herside.

“I like sleeping naked.” he grumbled. “You knowthat.”

Sleeping naked in the privacy of his own roomwas one thing. Sleeping naked in her room after they had sex was another thing.Stripping down and climbing in her bed when they weren’t about to have sex was entirely something else.

“You are sleeping here.” she stated out loud,for her benefit as well as his.

She was thankful for the semi-darkness becausehe suddenly tensed and turned his head so he could look at her.

“That’s okay?” he asked, not sounding asconfident as usual.

He liked to call her arrogant but he had hisown particular brand of egotism. He rarely, if ever, asked for permission before doing things that concerned herand he tended to assume she would either agree or cave – like, apparently,deciding he could sleep in her bed without being invited to as if they were ina habit of doing so.

“I suppose.” she answered carefully, not quitesure what it meant.

He rolled on his side and reached out for herjust as carefully – if not awkwardly.They had never really done that. When they cuddled in bed it was because theyhad ended up tangled in the throes of passion. They never really purposefully reached out – it had happened before when he had been toodrunk to care, but sober?

She let him spoon her, sighing in relief whenhis warm body plastered itself to her back. There was one good thing to havingHaymitch Abernathy in her bed – well, there were several good things but that one was a nice bonus – he was a sourceof warmth. She loved that. And rightthen it was all her body needed.

His arm sneaked around her waist, squeezing abit too tight for her comfort. She nudged it higher and he grumbled butadjusted as she saw fit.

It was comfortable.

And nice.

And, perhaps, a bit frightening in itscasualty.

“Does this feel domestic to you?” she whisperedafter a few minutes spent staring at the wall, despite the fact that she wasready to drop of exhaustion.

“Please.” he scoffed “We couldn’t be domesticif we tried.”

He didn’t sound as convinced as he ought to be.

She had never let herself picture it, what alife together might be like. It was impossible and dangerous. Only pain liedthat way.

“You are right.” she lied.

“Sweetheart, I’m always right.” he snorted, pressing a kiss against her nape.“Sleep.”

She relaxed in his embrace, happy in theknowledge that she was as safe as could possibly be.

It was the best night she had on that train sofar.

#hayffie #effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #prompt #victory tour #fluff #no wig no make up #coconuts friends #cuddles

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