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welty4ng · 2 months ago

Text

TEAR MY WORLD APART!

call transcript; “adapting is never easy. jiaoqiu supposes he only tolerates it because you’re with him”

cw; spoilers for the current quest !!! f!reader, NSFW (mdni) !! hurt/comfort, fingering (soft sex tbh), not proofread, ugh jiaoqiu i love you so much, fic below the cut, 4.7k words

When Jiaoqiu first returns home, there’s a heavy weight in his chest.

It felt horribly uncomfortable, having Moze walk him all the way from the docks to his house. It felt even worse to have his companion fish his keys from his pockets.

In his mind’s eye, he knows where everything is. He knows where you keep your plants and how to avoid running into them; still, he tips one over, the crunch of dirt beneath his feet ringing sickeningly in his ears. He knows where every corner of his house is; yet, he hits his shoulder when he rounds a corner a little too soon.

Shamefully, it takes him longer than he’d like to find someplace to sit. He’d never thought it to be so humiliating, to realize he spent so many years seeing the layout to his own home without memorizing it.

He’s unsure for how long he sits, the silence deafening and the darkness blinding. There’s a gnawing, ever-growing pit in his stomach at the realization that this might very well be the rest of his life. A shiver runs down his spine. He doesn’t think he’ll enjoy having his senses heightened any more than they already were.

Jiaoqiu jolts when he hears the front door open, his ears perking up. The sound of your footsteps reaches his ears before you call out his name, your voice gentler than he’s ever heard it.

“Hey,” you say, hushed. Jiaoqiu shudders when your hand finds his knee, trying to soothe him. His hands ball into fists on his lap.

“Hey,” he echoes, slightly strained. The weight in his chest grows heavier when you thumb at his knee. It’s horrifying, how he can practically picture the pity on your face — he’d never thought he’d be at the receiving end of it.

“General Feixaio told me what happened,” you whisper. Jiaoqiu’s ears twitch when you cup his face and he immediately nestles into your palm. Your thumb is gentle against his skin, caressing his cheek with the utmost of care. “I’m so sorry, love.”

There’s a lump in his throat, a million words on the tip of his tongue — ‘I’m okay. I’ll be fine. It’s nothing serious. I just need to adapt.’

All that he musters is a quiet, shaky, “I want to see you.”

Jiaoqiu wonders if you look as broken as he sounds.

Being molded into a homebody is not unideal, but Jiaoqiu has far too much to do.

He wonders if that’s why Feixiao sent Moze to inform him of the leave of absence he’d been granted.

It should be welcome. It is, to an extent, when guilt doesn’t chip away at his conscience; when he doesn’t feel like he’s a burden—

The clatter of pots makes him jump, his tail puffing up before matting back down. He exhales, low and unsteady as you call out a sheepish, “Sorry.”

Jiaoqiu doesn’t think he can complain. Not when you’ve carved out time from your schedule to look after him — to help him adjust, or whatever bullshit Moze claimed Feixiao had said. So he’ll endure the ringing in his ears when something is just a little too loud, endure the tangy, bitter smell of something burning, and offer a patient smile, followed by a soft, “It’s okay.”

Because he knows you’re trying.

Cooking was never your thing. He’d never let it be, because, why would he ever let you dirty your hands when he could do it instead?

Part of himself feels guilty that you’ve been forced into a myriad of things that fell under his attention. It’s an ever-growing sense of uselessness that weighs on his chest, burrowing deeper with every ‘tap’ of the knife on the cutting board.

He presses his back against the wall, trying to suppress the familiar urge to take over the cooking for you. A knot forms in his throat when he hears you softly hiss, his eyes yearning to open and treat whatever wound you must’ve gotten.

When a soft rush of water reaches his ears, he inches off the wall just enough, taking a step toward the noise. It feels slightly disorienting, trying to guide himself simply through hearing. Still, he tries, awkwardly stumbling in your direction with an outstretched hand.

A shaky exhale leaves his lips when he touches your shoulder, his tail awkwardly flicking to the side when you jolt at the contact.

“Let me help,” he whispers, his fingers instinctively squeezing your shoulder. There’s something so horrid about being able to hear your breaths before you even speak. He loathes how clear he can hear your breath falter as you hesitate.

“Jiaoqiu, you—”

“Please.” He’s tired of feeling useless. He has enough to deal with, now that his eyesight is gone indefinitely. He wants to help — to be of use, even if it’s just a little.

The weight in his stomach sinks deeper when you gingerly clutch his wrist. For a moment, he expects you to drop his hand and lead him back to the spot on the wall he’s claimed as his own. Instead, you bring his hand up to your face, letting his knuckles brush against your skin.

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” you murmur, gentle as you press a kiss to the back of his hand. Jiaoqiu wonders what expression you’re making; wonders if it’s pity or sympathy.

He takes a step closer, his front bumping against yours before his free hand shoots out to hold onto the edge of the counter for balance. “Let me do something, at least,” he pleads, a vague hint of desperation lacing his words.

Your breaths fan his face, tickling his skin in a way that has his tail swaying.

“Please,” he whispers, trying to keep his voice from wavering.

There’s a brief moment of hesitance before you ask, “What do you want to do?”

Jiaoqiu’s heart hammers in his chest, a ticklish sort of hope flooding his being. His hand trembles against your face, softly squeezing your own when you grasp it.

“Anything,” he breathes out. “It doesn’t have to be cooking or cleaning or — just let me do anything.”

When your grip on his hand falters, he grasps it tighter, resting them on your cheek. The smell of something burnt fills his senses, but he can’t find it in himself to care; not when he can feel the faint warmth of your skin. “I want to be of use to you.”

His ears twitch when you sigh, his hand trembling lightly against your face. He can imagine the expression you’re making — pursed lips and furrowed brows, deep in thought. Still, he yearns to see it.

“You can help me stir the pot,” you offer, a hint of hesitance to your voice.

The weight in his chest lightens just a little, his fingers tightening around your own in a light squeeze. “Alright.”

It’s a shred of normalcy, he supposes; even if he’s just swirling a ladle. For a moment, it reminds him of a simpler time, back when he was younger and still learning to fend for himself. The soft ‘tap’ of the knife against the cutting board fills his ears, accompanied by your faint humming.

Will you let him keep helping you? Jiaoqiu can’t help but wonder. Would you let him stop being a burden? Do you even think of him as a burden? He hopes — prays — you don’t. He hopes you let him stay by your side, even if all he can do is rot.

It’s all he wants.

So, when you lead him to your dining table, trying to distract him from the scent of burnt meat, he’ll entertain you. He’ll keep his complaints to himself, even if the soup is far too salty; the noodles are a little too undercooked; and the cubed beef is a bit too charred.

You’re both trying, he reminds himself. Perhaps that’s why he can’t find it in himself to care much when he can hear the ‘snap’ of a noodle between his molars. There’s a slight tingle in his tongue by the time he’s done eating.

Still, Jiaoqiu doesn’t complain. Instead, he smiles, softening when your hand grasps his own beneath the table, squeezing twice in a comforting gesture.

“Thank you,” he whispers, hushed. When your breath hitches, a lump forms in his chest. Quickly, he adds, “For everything.”

For a moment, he supposes the only good thing about being blind is that he doesn’t have to see you cry. Though, he supposes it’s worse, hearing you hold back from it — hearing you struggle to remain composed.

When he opens his arms, you rush into him, leaving your chair behind and opting to perch in his lap — just like you’d always done. He holds you closer, instinctively; though, he rubs at your back with hesitance, almost trying to map out the length of your back.

He shudders when you wet the side of his neck. It feels more present, now that his world is shrouded in pitch black. Your cries sound louder, even when quiet and muffled by his skin.

“I’m sorry.” Jiaoqiu’s unsure if the apology is his or yours, the weight growing tenfold in his chest and ringing in his ears.

He can’t tell if the sobs are still yours, either.

Jiaoqiu learns to rise when you do. His routine morphs into your own, despite your insistence that he rest longer.

Staying in bed doesn’t feel the same without you, he’d argued. You were quick to relent after that.

His feet drag on the floor behind yours, his grip tight around the back of your nightshirt. There’s a dull ache in his head. He bumps into you when you stop, a quick apology tumbling from his lips before he can stop it.

When the sound of rushing water reaches his ears, they twitch, recognizing the familiarity. His hands perch on the edge of the counter, letting go of your clothes. It never takes long for him to hear the soft rustle of fabric falling onto the floor. It never takes long for him to fumble with his buttons, either, before you come to his aid.

“Will you help me wash my hair again?” he asks, quiet as you ease the fabric off his shoulders.

“If you want me to,” you reply, gentle as you help him out of his pants. When your fingers brush against his lower abdomen, he shivers, his tail puffing up as he sucks in a sharp inhale.

Jiaoqiu’s hand leaves the counter, moving to cup your cheek in a practiced (albeit clumsy) movement. Part of himself still feels like a fumbling fool when you move his hand just a little lower, correcting the placement. Still, you never mention it.

A voice in the back of his head tells him he should reject your offer for help — tells him he’s been more than enough of a burden by making you spend more time ensuring he’s clean than you do yourself. Then, a gentler, kinder voice reminds him you’d expressed your satisfaction at being able to aid him. Pride never stands a chance, when it comes to your delight; he realized this soon after meeting you.

So, he lets his finger brush against the apple of your cheek, his voice softening as he says, “I do.”

It’s become almost instinctive, following you. There’s always a certain gentleness with which you hold his hands, guiding him forward as you step into the shower. He hears the quiet scuff of a stool (your insistence, not his) being dragged across the tiles. Your hands remain gentle as you guide him to sit.

“Tell me if I scrub too hard, okay?” The statement is almost unnecessary, truly. You’ve never once treated him with something other than overwhelming delicateness — like he’s made of porcelain. Jiaoqiu considered himself tough, before losing his eyesight. He thinks that shell was stripped from him alongside his vision. He wonders if you know it, too — wonders if that’s why you touch him like he’s seconds away from breaking beneath your touch.

Still, all he says is, “Okay.” Then, after a moment, “Thank you.”

A lump forms in his throat at the beat of silence, his heart hammering in his chest. Aeons, he wants to see your expression — he needs it so desperately. It’s become hard to tell whether he says the right thing or not. Sometimes, he wonders if he oversteps. There are a million words at the tip of his tongue, all of them longing to spill out.

Something soft presses against his forehead, gentle and so, so soft. Two hands cup his jaw, holding him in place before drawing him in. His arms wrap around your middle almost instinctively, his face burrowing into your chest.

“I want to see you,” he whispers, his words muffled by your skin.

Your lips press against the top of his head, tender. Jiaoqiu melts when you cup the back of his head, holding him in place. He wonders if you realize how soothing your heartbeat is to him, currently. Your fingers weave through peachy strands, washing out the shampoo suds from his hair.

“I know,” you reply, your voice barely audible. “We’ll figure it out, love.”

A soft noise rumbles in the back of his throat, his ears twitching and tickling your skin. “Promise?”

“Promise,” you whisper, kissing the top of his head one last time.

For a moment, something akin to hope blossoms in his chest. It’s the first time he’s felt it, since losing his vision, Jiaoqiu notes.

Normal still feels out of place, though not as much anymore. It’s become a faint, lingering feeling in the back of his mind.

There’s still a vague sense of discomfort at being surrounded by darkness constantly. Jiaoqiu supposes it’s only through the habit of touching that he reminds himself he’s not alone.

He’s only grateful you indulge him, even if it must be a bother to have him hovering and pestering just to stick to you.

The streets of the Yaoqing — have they ever been this noisy? Jiaoqiu can’t tell. It’s uncomfortable, how loudly everything rings in his ears. He thinks he would rather trade the boisterous noise for the bright, vivid colors he used to complain about.

“We’ll head home soon,” you reassure, squeezing his hand as tight as you can. For a moment, he wonders if his distress is palpable (he concludes that, for you, it must be).

“You shouldn’t rush,” he replies, his words trailing off into a quick apology when someone bumps into his shoulder. His hand squeezes yours — the mere thought of separating from you makes his heartbeat spike in anxiety. Jiaoqiu softly clears his throat, quickly adding, “I’m fine, really.”

Neither of you seem to believe it, though you don’t call him out on the lie. Instead, you slow your pace even more to loop your arm with his.

“I was thinking,” you start, pulling him just a little closer to you as you walk, “We could get the ingredients for those noodles you like.”

Jiaoqiu hums, trying to ignore the way the corners of his lips curl up. “That would be nice,” he says, trying to keep his steps matched to yours.

“You could help me make them,” you offer, gently tugging him closer before someone brushes against his arm.

His steps falter for a moment. When he takes a second too long to reply, you rush to add, “Only if you want to.”

A lump forms in his throat, agreement sitting on the tip of his tongue. All he does is exhale. His heart hammers in his chest, thundering loud in his ears. You’re looking at him — he doesn’t need his vision to tell. A hushed, barely audible whisper leaves his lips when you call his name.

“Is it still too soon?” you ask, a hint of worry in your voice. Your hold on him tightens just a little. “I-I figured, maybe it had been long enough to try and ease you back into things you used to do. We can just pretend I didn’t say any—”

“I want to,” Jiaoqiu says, his voice wavering. He isn’t sure when his breath picked up, but he can feel his chest heaving. His tail lightly sways when you place your hand above his own, thumbing at his knuckles.

“Okay.” Your voice feels as soft as your touch. It tickles his nerves, sending a flutter through the pit of his stomach and down to his core.

He leans down, pressing his forehead to yours (a jolt of satisfaction in his chest at the lack of clumsiness). His ears twitch when the pad of your thumb lightly presses into his knuckle.

“Okay,” he echoes, trying to match your tone. Jiaoqiu softens, gently rubbing his forehead against your own.

Warmth blooms in his chest when you whisper. The market’s ruckus feels like white noise as your words ring in his ears. Like instinct, his lips part before replying in earnest. “I love you, too.”

He wonders if it’s your face that’s burning up, or if it’s his.

It pains him a little, just how long it’s taken him to ask this of you.

Jiaoqiu feels you shift beneath him, adjusting your position before wrapping your legs around his waist again. He softly exhales, tracing the slope of your cheek with the utmost of care. His heart hammers away in his chest, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Don’t move,” he whispers, breathless as he pokes at the fat of your cheek. When you sigh, he lets himself cup your face, the pad of his thumb lightly pressing into the hollow beneath your eye.

“How much longer are you going to do this for?” you ask, curiosity lacing your voice. Jiaoqiu softens, his tail swaying when you lean into his touch.

“Until I’m sure I’ve memorized everything.”

“I thought you already knew my face by heart?” you reply. The corners of his lips curl up into a smile when he hears yours. He gently pinches your cheek, drawing a soft chuckle from your lips.

“I do,” he says, loud enough so it’s meant for your ears only. “I just want to make sure I know it, deep in my soul.”

A soft hum leaves his lips when you squeeze his waist. His hand moves, his thumb tracing the shell of your ear.

“How smooth,” you mumble, brushing a few peachy strands away from his face.

“I want to make sure it’s all like I remember,” he murmurs, complying when you pull him up with your legs. Jiaoqiu’s ears twitch when his nose bumps against yours, a breathless chuckle slipping past his lips.

His hand trails down, his thumb brushing your lower lip. When you gently kiss the digit, his breath hitches. He cups your jaw, trying to find an angle. You simply follow his lead, letting him lead.

He thumbs at the corner of your lips, your breath fanning against his skin. His mouth presses against yours in the softest — faintest — of kisses. When you sigh, he lets himself mold against you. His tongue traces the seam of your lips, his tail swaying when you grant him access.

There’s a hint of desperation behind his actions. Jiaoqiu wonders if you can tell, by the way his tongue licks at your mouth — almost like he’s trying to memorize the way you taste.

He barely gives you any reprieve, breaking the kiss to catch the slightest of breaths before he’s attached to your lips once more. When his name leaves your lips between kisses, heat pools in his stomach. It’s a feeling he’d thought dormant since he’d lost his sight.

Jiaoqiu doesn’t think he’d mind its resurgence — not after the way you part with a whined gasp, struggling to catch your breath. His lips press against the corner of your mouth, then lower, until he’s kissing a trail down to the spot beneath your jaw.

When you struggle to hold back a moan, heat shoots through his veins. Your hands find the back of his head, your fingers tangling in peachy strands. He complies when you help him up, cupping his face before capturing his lips with your own.

For a moment, Jiaoqiu wonders if you taste sweeter than he remembers.

“Guide me.”

“Hm?”

A soft, huffed chuckle escapes Jiaoqiu’s lips. His hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb applying a delicate pressure beneath your eye. He feels you shift on the bed, your legs tangling with his own.

“Guide me,” he repeats, his ears twitching when you yawn. A gentle noise rumbles in his chest, his body pressing closer to yours and his hand moving lower to let his thumb press against the corner of your mouth. Then, he leans down, his lips replacing the digit.

Heat pools in his stomach at the sigh you let out. His tail lightly sways, the ends puffing out when he nips at your lower lip. “You’ve been patient for long enough,” he murmurs, gently ghosting a kiss over your lips.

“Jiaoqiu—”

“No excuses,” he says, “Please.”

After a light kiss, he adds, “Let me do this for you.”

For a moment, he wonders if it’s your heartbeat he hears, instead of his own. He lets his hand leave your face to rest on the underside of your breast, relishing how your breaths stutter.

“You’ve done more than enough for me,” Jiaoqiu reasons, his voice tender as he moves his face closer to the crook of your neck. “I ought to express my gratitude,” he whispers, noting how you shudder as his breath tickles your skin. He presses his lips against the underside of your jaw — right at the spot he knows makes your breath hitch and your thighs clench. “Shouldn’t I?”

“I didn’t do anything with the intention of getting something in return,” you say. He catches on to the quiver to your tone when his ears twitch. His teeth graze your jaw, soft and experimental as he thumbs at the lower part of your breast.

“Isn’t that reason enough to accept my gratitude with open arms, then?”

You shudder, your hand moving to perch on his shoulder when he trails kisses down to your collarbone. “We both know what your gratitude entails, Jiaoqiu.”

He softly clicks his tongue, letting his canines graze against your skin. The hand on your chest inches upward, moving until his thumb reaches your pert nipple. “Even more reason for you to accept, hm?”

His touch softens when you sigh.

“Isn’t it a little too soon—?”

“I think I should be the one to decide that,” Jiaoqiu mumbles. He presses a soft kiss to your collarbone.

There’s a slight hesitance to your actions — how you seem to mull over his words. His tail sways, lightly rubbing against the bedsheets as your fingers run through his locks.

“Still, I—” your breath catches, your words interrupted by a wanton whine when delicately rolls your nipple between his fingers.

Heat shoots through his nerves, fueling the fire in his stomach as he pictures your expression — your face all scrunched up, but your lips parted as you pant. Jiaoqiu slows the barrage of kisses on your skin, softy exhaling.

He wants to see it, so, so desperately.

He wants to feel and touch and see. His ears twitch when you sigh his name, breathless. A soft growl rumbles in his chest in response before he presses an open-mouthed kiss on your collarbone.

“Let me take care of you,” he quietly pleads. “You shouldn’t have to suppress your own needs for my own.”

“I’m not—”

Jiaoqiu nips at your collarbone to cut off your words, his tongue gently soothing the spot. “Don’t lie to me,” he murmurs, his words slightly muffled by your skin. “Not when I hear clearer than I ever could.”

Your grip on his hair falters, your breath hitching. He wonders what expression you wear — are you flustered or taken aback? Or is it something entirely different?

“Just because I’m blind doesn’t mean I can’t touch you like I used to,” he breathes out, gently rolling your nipple between his fingers. You tug on his hair, your breaths uneven. His lips trail kisses along the expanse of your collarbone. “You just need to guide me.”

His fingers leave your nipple, drawing a soft whine from your lips as he trails them down to your hip.

“It’s about time you replace your fingers with my own, after all,” he rasps, kissing a path back up to your jaw, “Isn’t it?”

His ears twitch when a strained whimper slips past your lips. He nips at your skin before pressing a feather-light kiss on the spot. Heat floods the pit of his stomach when you nod against his head, your hand resting atop the one on your hip.

“You’ve been more than patient, love,” Jiaoqiu whispers, his tail twitching against the sheets as you help his hand down between your thighs. He shudders an exhale, his fingers inquisitive as they search for your clit. His breaths become heavy, fanning against your jaw in a way so ticklish that your thighs instinctively press together.

A choked whine leaves your lips, your fingers curling in his hair. “‘s n-nothing,” you murmur, your voice trembling.

He gently clicks his tongue, his thumb pressing against you once he finds your bud. “It’s not ‘nothing,’” he replies, rubbing his nose along your jaw as he begins to circle your clit. “It’s never easy to care for a patient.”

You mewl, lightly jolting when his index finger prods around in search of your entrance. “W-wait,” you stammer, your hand moving to aid his own. His tail thumps faintly against the bed when his fingertips ghost above your folds.

“Here we go,” he whispers, unable to keep the elation from his voice. For a moment, he wonders if you’ve realized the selfish intentions behind his idea to thank you.

Though, he’s sure that even if you have, you probably don’t mind. Jiaoqiu knows how tired you must be from fingering yourself in his stead. Your fingers were never as good as his at bringing you pleasure, after all.

The corners of his lips curl up into a small smirk, his finger pumping in and out of you with practiced ease. “That’s nice, isn’t it, love?” he asks, his voice a soft coo.

“M-mhm,” you shakily hum, slowly rocking your hips against his digit to match his pace.

“Your sweet cunt just needed my fingers, didn’t it?”

He can’t hold back the purr in the back of his throat when you nod, your fingers fisting his peachy strands when he pushes a second finger into your folds.

“N-needed them s-so bad—!” you cry, your voice cracking. Your free hand grasps at his forearm, your breath quick and uneven pants. “‘s never the same when t-they’re mine…”

Jiaoqiu gently shushes you, peppering kisses against the underside of your jaw. “I know, love,” he coos, his voice full of sympathy. “I’ll take care of it for you.”

You moan, your breath hitching as your walls flutter around his fingers. When they curl, you cry, your hips desperately rocking against his hand. “J-Jiaoqiu—”

“Close already?” he asks, though he fails to hide the smile from his voice. You huff and he chuckles, a sense of satisfaction settling in his gut. How long has it been since he’s felt that — felt anything other than a weight in his chest?

Jiaoqiu can’t be bothered to wonder. Not when your cunt spasms around his fingers, your broken cries and moans rising in volume the more he curls his digits against the spongy spot in your folds.

“That’s it, love,” he breathes out, his voice a heavy rasp. “Let go for me.”

When you cry, he can only picture the expression on your face — can only imagine you look just like you’ve always done when you cum. His chest aches for just a moment, then lightens when you mewl his name.

“T-thank you,” you whisper, your words slightly slurred. Jiaoqiu softens when you kiss the top of his head.

“I should be the one thanking you,” he replies, hushed. He nuzzles into you, slowly pulling his fingers out of your cunt. His chest rises and falls, weightless for the first time in weeks. “For everything.”

#after hours! ᡣ𐭩 #jiaoqiu x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #JIAOQIU I WONT YOU #I LOVE HIM SO MUCHHH #jiaoqiu #jiaoqiu x you #jiaoqiu x y/n #hsr jiaoqiu #honkai star rail smut #hsr smut #hsr x y/n #honkai star rail jiaoqiu #hsr x you #jiaoqiu smut #jiaoqiu star rail

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hellodarling1357 · 10 months ago

Note

Hello! Heard your requests are open so could I please request a cassian x f!reader fic where the reader is a babysitter for cassian's baby girl (maybe less than a year old). cassian is a single father so as time goes on and cassian sees reader bonding so well with his baby, he starts liking her more and more. eventually asks her out and they end up getting together and all❤️

Tiny Toes

Thank you so much for the request! I had the best time writing this, it honestly could’ve gone on forever

A/N: sorry for the slight Nesta slander, I really do love her as a character but needed to have her do this :(

Enjoy 🥰

Word Count: 6.6k

You didn’t think you would be babysitting at this stage in your life but with your boss firing you because you refused to sleep with him, and then refusing to put in a good word for you when potential employers contacted him for a reference, it seemed like the next best, and your only, option. If anything, it was a means to an end in terms of supporting yourself whilst you got back on your feet and sorted something else out; the fact that you absolutely adored babies and children was just a bonus perk of the job.

When your close friend Elain told you that she knew someone who would really appreciate your help, you jumped at the opportunity. However, what you weren’t expecting was to come face to face with the General of the Night Court’s armies, crying baby in his arms and a distressed expression of his face.

“Y/N?”

“Yes, hi…” You trailed off, unsure how to address the male in front of you. General? Lord? But he didn’t seem to notice your hesitancy as he gestured you inside.

“Hey, I’m Cassian. Seriously, thank you so much for agreeing to this. I know it’s last minute, but somethings come up and I just… Well, I really need the help, so thank you.”

You smiled at him, taking the time to look around the open layout of the house as he tried to settle his crying daughter. You couldn’t help but cringe a bit at the state of the place. There were baby clothes and toys everywhere, plates and dirty laundry piled up, not to mention the daggers and knives that seemed to be scattered throughout the place.

“This,” Cassian said as he walked back into the lounge room, the babe now happily looking around, “is Otilia, or Ottie. Ottie, this is Y/N, she’s going to be looking after you while Daddy is away. You’re going to be a good girl for Y/N?” Ottie just smiled up at him as though he were her favourite person in the world, making happy little noises as she kicked her feet and grasped at the front of his top.

The sight had your heart melting. If you didn’t already know who Cassian was, there was no way in a million years you would’ve guessed that the male in front of you was the infamous General, the Lord of Bloodshed.

With Ottie still is his arms, Cassian moved around the room, gathering items, and trying to clean up what he could before leaving.

“I’ve left a note in the kitchen, just with all the general things like nap times, where the baby food is, where the nappies are, what her favourite toy is. But she’s a pretty happy baby so hopefully she won’t be any trouble.”

“I’m sure she’ll be perfect, won’t you, sweetheart?” You cooed at the little girl as she watched you with wide eyes. “Here, do you want me to take her so she can get comfortable with me while you’re still here?” You offered, as she wrapped her small hand around your finger.

“If you don’t mind. Don’t be offended if she starts crying, she usually takes a few minutes to warm up to new people,” Cassian passed her over, helping her settle in your arms, a protective hand cupping her cheek as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Well, look at that, you’re clearly some sort of baby whisperer.”

Smiling down at her, you gently tickled her with your pointer finger, grinning as her feet started kicking, her sweet melodic laugh filling the room. Cassian hurriedly pulled the rest of his gear together, sending lingering looks over to the pair of you as he did so.

“Everything alright?” You asked as you sat on the green velvet couch, Ottie still in your arms. You knew how hard it could be for the parents, having a complete stranger looking after their children, so you tried to give Cassian the chance to ask any questions or dispel any concerns before he left.

“Yeah, yeah sorry of course. All fine.” He seemed to hesitate before leaning against the table as he watched Ottie, a loving smile gracing his features. “Sorry,” a sheepish expression replaced that smile as he met your eye, “it’s the first time I’m leaving her, and I can’t seem to make myself walk out the door.”

You softly laughed, trying to ease his tension as you said, “That’s completely normal. If it helps, is there a way I can get in touch with you while you’re out? That way you’ll know straight away if something happens?”

He gave you a grateful smile but shook his head, “No it’s nothing like that. After everything I’ve heard Elain say about you, I trust you with her completely. It’s more so that I just don’t want to be away from her, don’t want to miss anything, you know? Even if it’s just the same smile I’ve already seen a hundred times,” He chuckled as he got up to press a kiss to the top of her head, then her cheeks, then her tiny, clenched hands. “Trust me, I know how pathetic this sounds, I don’t even know why I’m telling you, but I just really love hanging out with her. It’s just been the two of us against the world, especially after everything that happened with…” He suddenly stopped, as if catching what he was about to say.

“Anyway, I should be off. I’m already half an hour late and have had Rhys mind yelling at me for the last 15 minutes. Thank you so much, Y/N. I should only be gone a few hours.” With a final kiss to Ottie’s cheeks, Cassian walked out the door.

"Well now, what are we going to do today, sweetheart?" You asked the small baby in your arms. She just fixed you with another smile and burst into giggles.

*****

You had spent the better part of an hour playing with Ottie, hoping to tire her out so that she would easily go down for her nap. You plan miraculously worked, after wrapping her up in a blanket and running a soothing hand over her stomach, she fell fast asleep without even the smallest fuss. Cassian was right, she was a happy baby.

You quietly closed the door behind you and headed down to the kitchen. With nothing else to do, you figured you would help by cleaning the place up. With the dishes washed and drying, the benches wiped, and rubbish taken out, you started on the piles of laundry, however, a small painting tucked behind a chair in the corner of the lounge room piked your interest.

You picked Cassian out of the painting immediately, the telltale red Siphons and overall uncanny accuracy making it an easy conclusion. You tensed upon looking at the female painted beside him. The similarities between her and your High Lady were all too familiar, this was clearly her sister, Nesta.

Quickly putting the painting back where it had been hidden you felt guilt course through you; you hadn't meant to snoop. You knew what had happened between Cassian and Nesta. Everyone knew what had happened. They had been mated for just five years before falling pregnant then two weeks after the baby, after Ottie, had been born Nesta had simply left. It was all the people of Velaris could talk about, wild rumours and stories spreading about what had happened. Eventually, the truth came out; she had left Cassian, left her baby, for Eris.

Elain had explained to you the pressure her sister had felt and had realised she was only with Cassian because everyone had said that was what the mating bond required. But she wasn't actually happy with him, and Cassian hadn't been happy with her either. Then there had been a visit to the Autumn Court, and something had sparked between Nesta and Eris. She had felt torn and confused but a baby was never something she wanted, and Eris was offering her a life where she could be her own person, not someone shadowed by her High Lady sister, according to Nesta.

Given all of this, you were surprised by how put together Cassian seemed. You couldn't imagine the conflicting emotions he would've felt with his mate leaving just days after they had had a baby. But he seemed to have picked up the pieces and, no doubt, had the support of his family during that time, but you supposed there did reach a point where his duties to the court had to be met again, and you were more than happy to step in and help where you could.

*****

Several hours later, you had just finished giving Ottie her lunch when a piece of paper appeared on the table in front of you:

Y/N, Cassian has asked that I let you know he is going to be later than anticipated and that he is very sorry for the inconvenience. However, if this doesn't work, let me know and I'll have someone over to watch Ottie as soon as possible - Rhys

You blinked.

Rhys? As in Rhysand, your High Lord? Just casually sending you a magically note? You blanched at the thought of him even knowing you existed, which, you supposed made sense, seeing that you were friends with his wife's sister.

You didn't mind staying longer to look after Ottie, but you had no way of conveying that to Rhysand or Cassian. As if your thoughts had been sent out into the abyss, a pen appeared atop the paper as if in answer to your question.

Hesitantly, you picked it up, unsure how to even start a note of this manner that would be read by your High Lord.

It's not a problem, High Lord. Please tell Cassian that I can stay as long as required - Y/N

You didn't have a chance to read over the message before it was whisked away by magic. But, shit. Cassian had introduced himself to you as Cassian, but should you have referred to him as General in your note? Had you been too informal or improper. Before you could mull over it any further, the piece of paper was back in front of you:

Lovely.

By the way, just Rhys is fine - Rhys

Well, that settled that matter.

*****

You had given Ottie her dinner and put her down for bed with little fuss. There had been a few tears once she sensed that Cassian wasn't there, but you had managed to coax her back to her happy little self by quietly singing and rubbing soothing circles across her dark mass of hair until she fell asleep.

Now you sat curled up on the couch with the makeshift dinner you had prepared and a book that had been on the bulking bookshelf that sat in the corner of the room. You were sure that Cassian wouldn't have minded your rummaging through the pantry but had made enough for him to eat once he came home just in case.

An hour or so later, you had been so engrossed in your book that you didn't hear the front door open or the heavy footsteps that padded down the hall.

"Hi," You looked up with a slight jump, having been startled by Cassian's sudden presence. He was leaning against the doorway and looked absolutely exhausted. "Y/N, I am so sorry. I was up at some of the Illyrian camps and, well, things were worse than I anticipated... I won't bore you with all that, but I am so sorry for keeping you here."

You brushed him off, noticing the tension somewhat leave his body upon realising you weren't bothered by it.

"It's fine, I promise. The High Lord... Rhys," Cassian grinned at your correction, clearly privy to the notes that had passed between the two of you, "said you were going to be late. If it wasn't going to work, I would have let him know."

Cassian offered you another grateful smile as he slumped into the armchair opposite the couch. "How was she? Not too difficult?"

"She was perfect. A few tears at bedtime but we managed to sort that out. I think she was just missing you." You could have sworn his eyes twinkled at your last comment.

"Before I head off, I cooked some dinner and left a bit to the side for you in case you were hungry when you got back. I hope you don't mind?"

"Mind? Y/N, you are honestly cauldron sent. You also cleaned? All whilst looking after Ottie. Thank you."

You felt your cheeks heat up and preyed he wouldn't notice your slight blush.

"It was nothing, seriously. I had nothing else to do while Ottie was sleeping so thought I would help out. Why don't you go up and see her? I'll get dinner heated for you."

Cassian sent another grateful smile your way before leaving the room, you laughed to yourself as you heard his steps pick up in pace as he bounded up the stairs towards his daughter's room.

*****

He came back 10 minutes later just as you were putting on your coat and collecting your belongings.

"I've left your dinner on the stove to stay warm." You said over your shoulder. He really did look exhausted.

"Thank you, you have no idea how much of a life saver you were today." You brushed off the compliment as he led you towards the front door. "Oh, before you go, we never spoke about payment? How much do I owe you?"

Honestly, you hadn't even thought about payment, it had completely slipped your mind.

"Right. Don't worry about that now–"

"Y/N, I'm not going to not pay you for today."

"No, I know. But you look like you're seconds away from passing out, no offence. So go back inside, finish your dinner then go to bed. We can sort the money part out later."

"Okay, only if you're sure? Thank you again, so much. Get home safe, alright?"

"I will. Night, Cassian."

You had barely made it to the front gate before the door was opening again.

"Y/N? Before you go, would you mind looking after Ottie again in a few days? Rhys is needing me to get back into my work, so I'll need to have someone watching her while I'm away. You're so good with her, so if you wouldn't mind..." He trailed off.

"Of course, she's an absolute angel. I would love to look after her again. Let me know when you need me."

"Okay, Goodnight. Thanks again."

*****

Over a year had passed since you first met Cassian and Ottie. After the first few weeks, Cassian had sat you down and asked if you would be happy looking after her on a more permanent basis, so you had decided on four days a week while Cassian was busy helping out Rhys and the Inner Circle. Sometimes you would stay until later into the evenings if Cassian came home with piles of paperwork, helping with Ottie's bedtime and cleaning up the house, despite Cassian's protests that it was his mess to deal with.

"Y/N?"

You had just finished feeding Ottie her dinner when Cassian appeared in the doorway. You looked up at him, waiting for him to continue as you wiped the food away from her chubby cheeks.

"Ottie is turning two on Saturday, and I was just wondering, if you weren't doing anything, if you wanted to come to her birthday party? It won't be a big thing, but she adores you and it would be nice to have you there," You smiled at him, delighted that he even considered you important enough to be there to celebrate, but before you could reply, Cassian hurriedly continued, "Of course, there's no pressure. You probably want a break from us, it is your day off after all…"

"Cass, I would love to be there." His face lit up as your response.

"Good. Okay. Great," He remained in the doorway, still softly smiling as he watched you pick up Ottie from her highchair, "Well I better... Still got some work to finish off, so..." He gestured back towards his office and then made his way out of the room.

You were caught off guard by the momentary awkwardness that seemed to radiate from him, not used to seeing him in any other way but the confident and playful General who was absolutely smitten with his little girl.

*****

Standing outside Cassian's house, you lingered on the doorstep as you hyped yourself up to knock on the door. It had only just dawned on you as you walked over that the guests at Ottie's birthday party, weren't going to be any old day-to-day fae. No, you were about to spend the afternoon with your High Lord and Lady, and their inner circle. Not a daunting prospect in the slightest.

As luck would have it, you weren't given a chance to psych yourself out before the door opened, revealing a grinning Cassian and Ottie who merrily clapped and said your name when she saw you, arms reaching out for you to hold her.

"Hello, Birthday Girl. Don't you look beautiful." She giggled as you cooed at her and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "Hi, thanks for inviting me." You looked at Cassian now who was fondly watching the scene in front of him playout.

"Thanks for coming," Cassian opened the door wider for you to come inside, taking the pink gift bag you had brought with you that contained Ottie's birthday present. "Fair warning, everyone here has a bone to pick with you."

You froze, body tensing at his words.

"What?" You would have cringed at the stutter in your voice had you not been so worried. But Cassian just laughed and led you further into the house, a hand on the small of your back.

"Well, apparently since you've come along, Ottie doesn't have the time of day for anyone else. She was fussing all morning until she saw you walking up the road through the kitchen window. You seemed to have gotten lost somewhere between the gate to the door with how long you stood out there, so we thought we would see what you were doing, didn't we Ottie?" Cassian gave you a knowing smirk, clearly aware of your nerves towards who you would be spending the day with.

"Come on, I'm just joking. They're all dying to meet you."

Right on queue, a female, who you knew without needing to be told was Morrigan, jumped up from her seat as you walked into the room.

"Y/N," She squealed as she bounded over and pulled you into a tight hug, Cassian quickly grabbing Ottie out of your arms. "It's about time we all finally get to meet you. First Elain kept you all to herself, and now Cassian? If you had said no to coming today, I would have gone over to your house myself and forced you to be here."

"Mor..." Cassian's tone was laced in warning, but you immediately felt at ease in her presence.

"Come on, let's introduce you to the others."

*****

To your absolute delight, the rest of Cassian's family welcomed you into their group with open arms. Elain had jumped up and refused to leave your side once she noticed you had arrived. Having been away with Lucien for some time, it had been a while since the two of you had been able to catch up.

After the presents had been opened - Ottie had adored the fluffy bear you had gotten her - everyone was lounging outside, watching as little Nyx sat with his younger cousin in his lap, showing her all of the presents she had received and telling her the best way to play with them in order to have the most fun. Clearly the ever-destined High Lord in the making, you had grinned, already seeing the type of male he would become as Feyre and Rhys watched on sharing content smiles.

It was only then that you realised that Cassian was missing from the group. You excused yourself and headed back inside, searching the house until finally finding him in Ottie's bedroom.

"Hi," You voice was quiet as you made your presence known, unsure if he had just forgotten something up here or if he needed a moment to himself.

"Hey," He turned to face you, looking as though he had just been pulled out of some sort of trance. However, his lopsided smile was quick to return as he said, "sorry for leaving you out there with that lot."

Letting out a laugh you walked into the room, "They're really not that bad. Imagine what the other courts would think if they ever saw the High Lord of the Night Court dressed up in a pink tutu with a fluffy matching crown on his head."

Cassian laughed at that, smile widening as the voices and shrill giggles from outside echoed through the bedroom window, but that reserved expression was quick to reappear.

"You alright?" You quietly asked, already having a sense of what was eating him up.

"Yeah, fine." A glance at your unconvinced expression had Cassian letting out a low sigh before continuing. "I thought she would've at least shown up today. I know she wants no part in this, but it's still her daughter’s birthday. For Ottie's sake, I thought she would've shown. She needs her mum."

You let out a sigh of your own now, crossing the space between you and wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug.

Pulling away you said, "Cass, I get it. Believe me I do. But Ottie is doing just fine. You're absolutely amazing with her and it's so special watching the two of you together. And in terms of her needing her mum, look at all the amazing females Ottie has in her life: Mor, Feyre, Elain, Amren. There's no short supply of love for her, if anything, Nesta is the one missing out on this."

The words had rushed out of you without being able to truly process what you had said. You and Cassian had never directly spoken about Nesta, it had always been an unspoken awareness that you knew what had happened and that was enough. Looking at the ground, you could feel yourself tensing with worry at the thought of having overstepped.

"And she has you."

"What?"

"And Ottie has you. You were listing off the amazing females she has in her life but missed the one who she spends the most time with. The one who she loves the most."

There was no stopping the blush that crept over your face as you stared back at Cassian.

"Cass-"

But the sounds of hurried little footsteps running up the stairs interrupted whatever you had been about to say.

"Uncle Cass, Uncle Cass," Nyx burst into the room, dramatically taking in deep breathes as he waved up at you.

"What is it, bud?" Cassian shot you a bemused glance, still somewhat laced with the intensity from before, then knelt in front of Nyx who lifted his arms and placed his little hands on Cassian's shoulders.

"It's cake time. Come on." Then he was running out of the room again.

"You'd think it was the end of the world with the entrance he just made." You let out a laugh but before you could respond, Nyx was bursting back in.

"Come on." He yelled, grabbing you and Cassian by the hand, and forcing you down the stairs to where Elain had just finished lighting the candles on top of the cake.

*****

The rest of the afternoon raced by, so fast, in fact, that you didn't have time to process the moment you and Cassian had shared until you were home. The intensity in his expression as he stared at you and the implication of his words... Your heart was racing at the mere thought.

Letting out a groan you tossed and turned in your bed, unable to settle your racing thoughts at the realisation that you had, somehow, without even being aware of it starting, had begun to fall for Cassian. To make matters even worse, you had no idea where you truly stood with him. Despite the closeness and friendship that had formed, he was technically still your boss.

You had a whole day before you were due back to look after Ottie. A whole 24 hours to figure out how you wanted to move forward in the wake of this realisation.

*****

Monday morning arrived much too quickly for your liking. It wasn't until the door opened and Cassian greeted you on the other side of it that you decided you weren't going to do anything about your feelings. He had been emotional the other day, grieving what he thought was missing from his daughter's life and, honestly, you thought to yourself, he probably hadn't even intended it to come out the way you had perceived it. He wasn't wrong, you did spend a lot of time with her. But you were paid to do so, so did it really count?

"Morning, Y/N? Have a good rest of you weekend?" Oh, sure it had been fantastic. Just a nice dose of inner turmoil. But of course, you didn't say any of that.

"I did," You smiled at him, acting as though your insides weren't currently screaming out. "Did Ottie have a good birthday? It was so nice meeting everyone."

As Cassian got ready to leave, your usual chatter filled the space as you made yourself a coffee, but you couldn't help but notice that his usual, carefree smile didn't quite meet his eyes, and that he seemed to be watching you as though waiting or assessing something.

"Alright, well I might be home a bit later tonight, if that's alright?" You brushed him off, of course it was alright, it always was. You sat down next to Ottie as she continued to happily munch away on her breakfast. "Okay, bye Ottie, you'll be good for Y/N today?" He pressed a kiss to her cheek before turning back to you, "See you later, yeah?"

"Mhm," You replied, "have a good day."

"You too." Then he was leaning down and pressing a kiss to your cheek as well before standing up and leaving as though nothing had happened.

What. The. Fuck.

You stared at the empty door frame he had walked through, only half hearing the front door close as he took off.

Again.

What. The. Fuck.

You turned to look at Ottie, as though she would provide you with some sort of explanation as to what just happened, or to confirm that it had even happened in the first place, that it wasn't just something you had imagined.

But she provided you with no deeper insight as she sat in her seat, happily kicking her little feet and giggling to herself. Upon noticing you watching her, she gave you one of her big cheesy grins you had grown to love and offered you a piece of the fruit Cassian had cut up for her.

*****

What. The. Fuck.

Cassian's heart was racing as he flew up to the House of Wind. What had he done?

Clearly you were more than happy to ignore his complete lack of control from the other day, when he all but said you were basically like a mum to Ottie. He was surprised he hadn't scared you off, especially when all you had signed up for was to be her babysitter, which was a harsh truth in itself that Cassian found himself constantly having to remember whenever he watched you and his daughter interact and he felt his heart stammer in his chest.

And then to turn around and kiss you on the cheek before leaving for work - as you turned up for work, he had to remind himself, again - as though it was a normal morning, between a normal little family...

He felt sick.

He had really screwed up.

"What's wrong with you today?" Azriel asked as Cassian landed with an ungrateful grunt next to the training ring located on the roof.

"Nothing."

"You sure?" Rhys now asked, sensing Cassian's inner turmoil even through the steadfast mental shield he had up around his mind.

With a grumble, Cassian lowered said shield, giving Rhys a look at what had occurred that morning. Scowling even deeper when Rhys let out a bark of a laugh. The snicker that followed from Azriel as Rhys showed him what had happened sent Cassian marching into the training ring, readying himself to forget his stupidity as Azriel approached to spar with him.

*****

He hadn't even got half an hour into his training before pulling up short, his mind was too distracted.

"Should I have stayed?" He blurtedly asked.

"What?" Unbeknownst to Cassian, Rhys and Az had been having a silent conversation whilst he had been spaced out.

"This morning. With Y/N. Should I have stayed and, I don't know, talked about it?"

He missed the glance his brother's shared.

"Well," Rhys started. "What would you have talked about?"

"I don't know, what is there to talk about?" Cassian snapped back, frustration and worry getting the better of him the more he thought about what he might now lose.

"Would you have tried to pass it off as a joke, or explain it away?" Rhys cautiously asked, trying to judge which direction Cassian's mind was heading in.

"Or would you have stayed and finally admitted your feelings to her?” Azriel interjected.

"My feelings?"

"Yes, you idiot. And the fact that you're in love with her."

"I'm not in love with..." Cassian trailed off though. He was, he absolutely was, and there was no point in denying it.

Azriel scoffed, "Please, you're in love with her. We've never seen you like this before with anyone."

"Well, Nesta-" Cassian tried to counter but Rhys cut him off.

"Nesta wasn't love. That was the mating bond, you've said as much to us multiple times so don't try to deflect now."

Cassian let out a deep sigh, he wasn't expected home for a few hours and a plan was starting to form in his mind.

*****

You had been surprised, but pleased all the same, when Feyre turned up with Nyx.

"Y/N! Hi, how are you?" You still weren't quite used to the casualness that surrounded the rulers of your court but did your best to act as though being in their presence wasn't one of the most intimidating things you had ever experienced.

"I'm good. What are you doing here?"

"Well, it's such a lovely day, Nyx and I thought it would be nice to get you and Ottie over to ours for the afternoon."

"Oh, thank you. Are you sure though?"

"Of course, we can walk back now. Go along the Sidra if you'd like?

"Easy, let me just grab Ottie's things."

Feyre shut the door behind you, Nyx already running over to where Ottie sat with her toys and planting a big kiss to her cheek.

"There's no need to grab much. Cass bought double ups of basically everything and has them stored at ours for when we look after her. Just yourselves will do."

You smiled warmly at her before scooping Ottie up, "Do you want to go play at Auntie Feyre's with Nyx?

Her excited squeals were enough of an answer, still, she excitedly said "yes, yes, yes, yes, yes," as you headed out the door, watching as her and Nyx ran ahead of the two of you.

*****

The afternoon spent with Feyre was the perfect distraction from your racing thoughts after what had happened with Cassian that morning.

The two of you chatted outside until the sun started to set, watching Ottie and Nyx run around across the grass.

"Well, hello, Feyre, Y/N." Rhys greeted as he walked out to join you, still dressed in his leathers, clearly having just got home.

You said hi back, watching with a laugh as Ottie caught sight of who now stood with you.

"Uncle Rhysie." She yelled, her little feet pounding across the grass as she leapt into his arms.

"Hello, princess. How's my favourite girl?" Ottie giggled at the nickname and hugged into him even tighter, "What do you say to a sleepover tonight, Ots?"

Turning to you, Ottie still in his arms, Rhys said, "Cass is fine with it. I think he needed you to head back at some point before going home tonight though."

"Oh, alright. Well, I might head off now then. Bye Ottie." She looked around at you, eyes wide as she wriggled out of Rhys' hold and ran over to you.

"You're not staying?" Her lip started to quiver so you quickly wrapped her up into a hug before the tears started.

"Not tonight, sweetheart. But we can play all day tomorrow, yeah?" She seemed to contemplate this for a moment before deciding it was acceptable enough and planted a kiss on your cheek before running back over to Nyx.

Feyre and Rhys were both smiling at you, clearly watching, and overhearing the entire interaction.

"What?" You asked with a laugh.

"Nothing, you're just really good with her."

"Oh, well..." You trailed off, not sure what to say as Rhys' words from before struck. Cassian needed to talk to you about something and, well, shit, clearly you were about to get fired, or, more kindly, were about to be told your ‘services were no longer required’.

"I'll see you both later. Goodnight." You missed the conspiratorial grin they shared behind your back, Rhys letting his thoughts drift over to Cassian's mind to tell him you were on your way.

*****

The house was dark when you got back, the only form of light was coming from the study and, from the looks of it, the backyard.

"Cass?" You called out as you closed the door behind you.

Hurried movements sounded from his office, then Cassian was quickly walking towards you.

"Y/N. Hi."

"Hi."

You felt as though your entire body was on guard. You needed to explain that you could easily put your feelings aside, but losing the chance of being in Ottie and Cassian's lives was something that filled you with dread, you would be happy to stay on in whatever capacity you could.

"Do you... Do you want to talk?" Cassian's nervousness was unsettling, yet you followed as he led you towards the couch.

"What are you doing tonight?"

That wasn't the question you were expecting.

You hesitated before answering, "Just going home I guess."

He seemed to contemplate your answer, looking so much like Ottie did earlier when you were saying goodbye.

"Dinner?" His voice was strained, leaving you even more confused.

"Um, yeah I'll be having dinner."

"No... Ugh this isn't working." He leant his head against the back of the couch, running his hands over his face.

"Cassian, are you alright?"

"Yes. No. I don't know." You were stunned, maintaining your silence as Cassian continued. "This morning, Y/N, I'm sorry. I don't know what that was, it just happened without me thinking about what I was doing. And then everything I said at Ottie's birthday. And now, fucks sake..." He trailed off again, leaving you just as confused as he blurted out "I need to have dinner."

"Oh, sure," You felt as though you were waiting for the other shoe to drop, as if his bizarre behaviour was some sort of test. "Did you want me to heat something up? I think there's still some frozen pasta from the other night." You went to stand but Cassian placed a hand on your knee to stop you before quickly pulling it away.

"No, it's alright. I've got it sorted." Then he was standing, offering you his hand as he guided you towards the back door.

You froze at the sight before you. Candles flickered across the table and the deck, a table set for two, lined with trays of food and a bottle of wine which sat in the middle of it all.

"Cass?"

"Look, Y/N, I get it if this is completely out of line. If it is then I am so sorry. But I needed you to know that this, whatever this is between us, means something to me."

You couldn't move, you were stuck on the spot as Cassian continued, the flickering lights casting a shadow across his handsome features.

"It's not even because you're so good with Ottie. I mean, you are, you're amazing with her and she adores you, so, so much. But it's how you treat me. Even that first time you looked after her, I was so close to crumbling. I felt so torn, between staying home and looking after my baby girl, but also knowing I needed to step back into reality and my responsibilities. It wasn't fair on the others that they had to pick up my slack."

You tried to interject, to say something about how the others wouldn't have minded, not one bit, especially with everything Cassian had been going through at the time, but he was already moving on.

"Not going to lie, I was reluctant when Elain first told me about you. It was nothing to do with you," He quickly clarified, "But more so because you were a complete stranger to me, and as much as Elain vouched for you, I still felt wary."

"Then you walked in and that first time you held her; I swear my heart skipped a beat. Even with Elain and Feyre, it took them ages to be able to hold her without Ottie bursting into tears. But with you, it all just seemed to fall into place." His voice was beginning to shake, and you silently wiped the tears from your eyes as he kept talking.

"But if anything, Y/N, it's the way you make me feel. Before even knowing me, you had me convinced that I wasn't completely failing at being her dad, that even though everything was well and truly fucked up, she was doing just fine. You helped me realise that I was going to be fine as well."

Cassian approached you now, calloused hands reaching up to your cheeks as he wiped away the rest of your tears with his thumbs. "So, I guess what I'm trying to say, and what I'm not doing a very good job of getting across, is that I love you?"

A watery laugh left you at the overall Cassian-ness of the statement, the sound making him grin lovingly at you.

"I love you, Y/N. And I am so thankful for the day that you walked into our lives and changed them for the better. And, assuming I haven't completely misread the situation, and assuming that those are happy tears," He laughed, his own eyes beginning to well. "I was wondering if you would like to have dinner with me?"

With his hands still on your cheeks, you brought your arms up around his neck and pulled him down so that his face was level with yours.

"I thought you were going to fire me." You whispered.

A cheeky smile passed over Cassian's face, "Well, technically, I suppose I am? I can't have my...whatever you are to me now, being paid to look after my kid now, can I?"

"How romantic. Being fired then called your 'whatever'."

"We'll figure that out later." Cassian murmured against your lips.

"Yes, I suppose we will." Then you were leaning forward, lips pressing to his, feeling as though you were finally home.

*****

Part 2

There are so many opportunities for bonus spin-offs that I’m excited to write but if you want to see any particular scenario, let me know 🥰

#cassian x reader #dad!cassian #cassian x y/n #cassian x you #cassian imagine #acotar #acofas #acomaf #acosf #acowar #marley writes

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riality-check · 2 years ago

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Advice for New Fans

AKA: Things I Wish I Knew When I First Started Out

Disclaimers

I’m by no means an expert.

This list is not comprehensive. Please add your own thoughts to it!

I’m approaching this from a lurker/fic writer perspective, so artists/gifmakers etc. might have different perspectives.

I’m also really only on tumblr and ao3, so different advice might apply to different sites.

This advice will not apply in every single case; it is just broad generalization that I have found to work most of the time.

General

Protect your personal information! I’m going to sound like my mother for a minute, but be aware of how much you’re sharing online. Don’t make yourself easier to dox by sharing personal information like names, locations, etc. Be careful. The internet is more good than bad, but bad still exists. Please protect yourself, especially if you’re a minor.

Respect people’s boundaries! For example, if accounts say “minors do not interact,” don’t interact if you’re underage. It sucks (I’ve been here personally), but it’s better for everyone if you scroll away. Boundaries like that are in place for people to curate their own online experiences for whatever reason they see fit. You don’t have to understand a boundary, but you do have to respect it. Be mature.

Don’t be afraid to create! If you’re debating over whether or not to hit the post button, do it. Just do it. If you had fun making whatever your creation is, and you want to share it with people, DO IT. This kind of stuff is supposed to be fun, and it’s all about collaboration. There’s an audience for everything, so someone will absolutely see what you put out and love it, even if you just made it for yourself.

Don’t feel ashamed for not creating! If you’re nervous or unsure about making something, but still want to participate, that’s totally fine! There are so many ways to do that, and I’ll talk about them later in this post. But even if you’re not creating, you’re still a vital participant in fandom (I remember all of my regular commenters!)

Two cakes! Just because it’s been done before doesn’t mean it’s been done by you. No one can make what you make in the way you make it, so even if it is similar to something that already exists, go for it! Chances are, people want more of that thing and will be happy to see it.

Don’t be afraid to join fandom spaces! If you see a link for a Discord server you’re interested in (and you meet requirements set by the mods), join it! If you see an event you want to participate in, participate in it! Don’t be afraid to put yourself out there and talk to people. More often than not, you’ll make really awesome friends, and you’ll have a lot of fun. We’re all just people, there’s nothing to be afraid of.

Tumblr

Don’t be afraid to change up your blog! I’m going to be honest: most people won’t care about your blog title. Make it as silly as you want and change it on your own time. Your url isn’t permanent (though it is more recognizable), so feel free to change it whenever and however you see fit. Icon, layout, anything else, change it up. Nothing here is set in stone, so make it what you want!

Curate your experience! “Unfollow” and “block” should be your best friends. Don’t like something? Unfollow. Still keep seeing it? Block. Poof, all gone, you’re done. Don’t pick fights. Don’t waste time energy on fighting when you could be making something or doing something that makes you happy. Follow who you want, like what makes you happy, and, most importantly, REBLOG.

Reblog, reblog, reblog! You gotta do it. It’s how this site works. If you enjoy something enough that you want to show another person, hit that reblog button. It’s how more people see the post, and it makes creatives super happy to see. Likes are for storage, reblogs are for sharing.

Tag your stuff! I really, really wish someone had told me this earlier because now my blog is an absolute wreck. Use tags to make your life easier and your blog more filterable. They don’t have to be funky custom tags like some people use. Fandom tags are a good place to start, and then you can add character, ship, and personal tags if you’re feeling fancy. But please, please, please, tag your stuff, it’s going to make it easier to find it all in the long run. You’ll thank me later.

Talk in the tags! In addition to being organizational, the tags are a fun little place for you to share your thoughts, and only OP (original poster) and the person you reblogged it from. As a writer, I love seeing people’s thoughts in the tags, so don’t be afraid to share them, weird or incoherent or long as they may be!

Yes, and! tumblr has a really, really cool “yes, and” culture. Meaning, if you see a cool little post and have your own ideas that you want other people to see, reblog and add on to it! Just go for it. You’re not stealing anyone’s post or ideas, you’re adding your own thoughts, and, chances are, other people are going to find that pretty cool (and may even add some thoughts on your thoughts, and down the line it goes!)

Post your stuff! I seriously wish I had done this earlier. For a long time, I only posted on ao3 and didn’t really bother with tumblr, which I kind of regret. For example, have you written a snippet you can’t fit into your fic? Post it! Posting to tumblr is a really fun way to get engagement on stuff you may not be ready to post to other sites, like ao3, or it is the final site you had in mind. Whatever the case, go for it! Tag with your fandom, characters, ships, any personal or additional tags, and send it out into the world. More people are going to love it than you think, I promise.

AO3

Titles! Don’t sweat the title too much. Most people don’t read it. They’re going to pay a lot more attention to the summary and tags of your fic. If you are struggling with a title, I recommend song lyrics or a phrase you really like from your fic.

Summaries! This is what’s going to draw your reader into your fic. Don’t just say “I’m bad at summaries,” that’s not going to interest people. Either summarize your fic in one sentence or take an engaging excerpt from it and copy it into the summary box. No matter how bad you think that is, it’s better than no summary at all.

Tagging! Honestly, same principle as tumblr, but for a different reason. Tag your stuff so that people know exactly what’s happening in your fic. Most people filter by tags, meaning that what you put ensures that they get the best reading experience possible. Best advice I can give: tag major romantic and platonic relationships, characters, dynamics (ex: Steve Harrington Has a Crush on Eddie Munson), and themes of the fic (ex: fluff, angst, pwp, etc.). Better advice: go find the fics you like that are similar to what you’re writing and see how they tag.

Format! This is the biggest one, and it’s the thing that made me want to create this post in the first place. Please, do not give me a wall of text to read when I click the link to what looks like an amazing fic. It hurts my soul. The best advice I have for format is to read actual books and see how they’re formatted. Briefer, more simplistic advice: start a new paragraph every time someone new speaks or the focus changes. You also don’t have to indent on ao3, and if you’re in Rich Text, it’ll put spaces between paragraphs for you. Also, there’s a horizontal line button in rich text, so you don’t have to spam the underscore key to manually create one.

Comment! I personally have to get better at this, but comment! If you liked the fic, share your thoughts, even if it’s just a little heart emoji! Writers spend so much time on their fics, and they love feedback that’s a little more in depth than a kudo (although kudos are always appreciated)! If you’re able to, comment. You’ll make a writer’s day, I promise. If you’re a writer, don’t feel pressured to respond to every comment. If you want to, go for it! If you don’t, that’s okay, too. You’re all good either way.

Conclusion

Please add on to this with whatever you wish you were told when you were first starting out! And new fans, welcome! We’re happy to have you here, and we hope you have fun!

#save for later #ria life

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honeyhhearted · 1 year ago

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Hold My Hand - Chapter 4

Previous Chapter / Start from the beginning

Read on AO3

Warnings: Arguing/Fighting

A/N: THANK YOU for holding tight while i've been drafting. i am so sorry it's taking me so long between chapters, i work full time and have severe ADHD, so i find myself so burned out so quickly. i'm working on it :)

Fic summary: When a young village girl begins to exhibit magic she should not wield, the Firm takes her in as one of their own, to be trained and raised as Princess of Asgard. (Or the one where Loki meets his match and falls head over heels (and is embarrassed about it).)

Chapter summary: You have an unfortunate run in with your new betrothed...and it doesn't go well, to say the least.

Word was sent to your parents of your new arrangement as Thor led you to your chambers. The silence was suffocating as your mind ran a mile a minute.

How would this arrangement work? Did Prince Loki know? Was this his doing? Why would they set you up with the Prince, rather than punishing you? Your stomach swirled. What would your life be like with him? Would he be cruel? Would he take pity on you?

“My lady,” Thor began, his voice filled with discomfort. He came to a stop in the center of the hall and turned to you. “I apologize that this has been sprung on you.” You cleared your throat, head beginning to pound as you shoved back the tears you wanted nothing more than to let fall. You wrung your hands as you looked up at him. “Thank you, your Highness…I am just overwhelmed. Does Prince Loki know?”

His eyes dropped. “I do not know.”

Your chest tightened. The Prince was not told about his arranged marriage. And I am here to bear the brunt of his inevitable anger.

“If I may ask, my Prince–” You started. Thor raised a hand. “Please. You will be my sister soon, no matter the situation. Call me Thor.”

You nodded, appreciating that Thor seemed to be genuine and kind. “If I may ask, Thor, do you believe Prince Loki will be angry?” Thor’s face was grim. “I am unsure, but…” His face twisted into a grimace. “I believe so. But if he is a good man at all, he will not blame you.” You hoped so. Thor walked you the rest of the way to your rooms in silence, though slightly more comfortable than before. - Your chambers were amazing. The floors were marble, with gold detailing and fixtures. A large, plush bed with a light pink canopy sat against a floor length mirror facing the cities and gardens below. You observed the other furnishings in awe as you stepped into the room. An attached bathroom held a bathtub the size of a pool. You were overwhelmed as you took it all in. Yesterday, you’d woken up as a poor girl in the outskirts of the village; a family shunned for your oddities. You could never have believed that in less than twenty-four hours, you would be a ward of the Royal Family, arranged to marry their youngest son. Though your fate as the wife of the cruel son was unbearable, you knew that this was the better path for your life to take. The Norns would not have sent you here if you were destined to suffer in this place. There must be some reason your life so drastically changed. You spent the remaining time in your afternoon outside. Thor had left you with the knowledge of how to get to the gardens if you wanted to explore the palace grounds, so you’d figured it best to familiarize yourself with the layout of the wing you resided in and its surrounding area. Your walk was peacefully quiet, the occasional member of the housekeeping staff passing by you and nodding politely. You would adjust to having staff cater to you, but it was surreal to be treated like you were anything but the village pariah. When you reached the gardens, you drank in the view. Rows of ornamental shrubs and flower arrangements, gardeners tending to the plants all over. You walked through slowly, enjoying the soft fragrances carried by the breeze. Deciding you needed a moment to take in your new surroundings, you followed a path deeper into the garden, leading to a secluded area with a small bench for you to rest on. You sat, sighing. Looking out past the greenery, you drank in the kingdom of Asgard in its entirety. The view of the village, the city line, people moving about their daily lives as small as ants from where you sat. It almost made you feel smaller, to realize that you had always just been part of an almost anonymous whole. To see everyone now, small specks in your view, set your new path in perspective. How many times did the King and Queen sit in these gardens, looking down at their subjects? How often did any member of the royal family enjoy watching the village like children staring at farm animals through slats in the fences? You heard a snap sound from behind you. Whirling around on the bench, you met a pair of green eyes looking sharply down at you. “You are the one my parents have decided I will settle down for?” His voice was sharp, dripping with venom. “How pathetic.” You stood quickly, running your clammy hands down the front of your skirt. “Prince Loki. My name is-” “I do not care for your name. Do not assume I care for you at all, girl. You are merely a pawn in my father’s games, and I refuse to play along this time. I merely wanted to get a look at you, and I see now that there is not much to see.” His eyes roam over you with disinterest. Your cheeks heated as your heart pounded in your chest. You felt a stinging behind your eyes and tried to blink away the beginning of tears before he could notice. “I apologize, your Highness, but I have as little choice in the matter as you do. The Allfather-” “The Allfather does not speak for me. And I will see to it that this is rectified immediately.” With that, Loki turned and stalked out of the garden. You pressed a shaking hand to your chest, exhaling slowly. You felt your heart thumping under your chest as you were filled with a sharp sense of unease. You had known that the Prince had a temper, and could be downright unpleasant, but the way his eyes had roamed over your body like you were nothing cut through you. When he was finally gone, you allowed yourself the moment to cry, hot tears spilling over your cheeks. This life is not the one you wanted for yourself. Of course, you were not stupid. You knew this would be difficult. You knew your life was never meant to be a happy one, being born with a curse such as yours. But you never could have imagined that being brought into the palace, something that every other Asgardian would view as a blessing, would be something so miserable. You decided to walk back to your chamber, eyes puffy and red. You just wanted the day to be over, to have a reprieve from the awful day you have had thus far. Of course, you have never been one to experience good luck, and you walked straight into Thor on your return. You slammed into each other, knocking you off balance. He reached for you, straightening you before you could fall. You see him scan you for injury, landing on your puffy face. “What happened, my lady?” He asked, voice full of concern. His gentleness in contrast to the abrasive cruelty of his brother spurred on another round of tears, and you let out a sob. He hushed you, guiding you into another room and seating you at a small bench. When you are able to calm down, you recount the conversation you’d had with Loki in the gardens. You watched as Thor’s face turned from surprise to disappointment and anger as his brother’s behavior. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to speak poorly of him,” You started, hiccuping. “But I do not understand what I’ve done wrong.” He shook his head. “You have done nothing wrong. My brother’s words are meant to hurt. He knows destruction and how to bring it, and he lashed out at you. You did not deserve that. I will not speak to him about this, my lady. But I must inform my parents of his behavior.” You nodded, sniffling again. “Thank you, Thor. I appreciate your comfort and understanding.” “You do not need to thank me. It is only the right thing to do.” Thor guided you back to your chamber as he made small talk about the palace grounds. You told him of your visit into the gardens before your confrontation with Loki, and how beautiful you found it. He seemed pleased. In your room, exhausted, you decided it would be for the best to lay down. Despite the fact that the sun had not yet set, you could not imagine being forced to face the rest of the day.

You woke in the morning to the sun illuminating the room. For a moment, you could almost hear your father’s humming, or your mother’s soft rustling as she moved about the house trying not to wake you. Then your surroundings settled on you, and you sighed as you blinked up at the ceiling with watery eyes. A soft knock at the door persuaded you out of bed. You stretched, standing and feeling the cool tile beneath your feet. You padded to the door, opening it tentatively to see a small girl who looked to be part of the palace staff. She gave you a small smile, curtsying. “Good morning, my lady. Are you well?” She asked. “Y-Yes, I am,” You say, awkwardly. She seemed to sense your discomfort. “My name is Camille. I am tasked to be your lady-in-waiting.” She shifted on her feet, wringing her hands. Your stomach turned. You didn’t want to make the poor girl uncomfortable, but the idea of having someone assigned to cater to you felt wrong. You sighed quietly, forcing a smile. “I’m sorry. I was unaware,” You said, trying your best to look reassuring. “Please, come in.” She gave you a small, hesitant smile, entering the room. She walked toward a door to the left, opening it wide and stepping in. Inside was a large wardrobe room. As you followed her, your jaw dropped at the sheer size of it. The room was the size of your family home, full of casual dresses and gowns, shoes, and accessories you could never have even dreamed of owning before. “While you were away yesterday, Her Majesty had us stock your wardrobe. The size is approximated, as you seem to be similar to Her Majesty in stature, but if anything does not suit you, please let us know.” She explained, motioning to the hanging dresses. “I will go over with you the dress occasions, but you will never have to worry. When it is time for a particular event that requires dress assistance, I and my co-lady, Lille, will be here with you.” Your head spun. Still taking in the room, her words only served to overwhelm you. You knew nothing about how to dress as a member of Asgard’s high society. What if you made a fool of yourself, or worse, embarrassed the Royal Family at an important engagement? Camille seemed to sense your nerves. She rested a gentle hand on your forearm. “I know it’s a lot to take in, my lady. But I promise, we are here to help you.” You nodded, swallowing hard. “Thank you,” You croaked. “I’m sorry. I just…I am not yet used to this.” She smiled at you. “I understand. If I may, my lady, can I familiarize you with your options? Please stop me if you have any questions.”

After what felt like an eternity, reviewing corseted versus non-corseted gowns, day dresses, evening gowns, riding gear, shoes…your head felt tight. Camille was extremely helpful, answering all of the questions you had. But still, it felt like so much to take in. With her assistance, you had chosen a simple day dress, pale yellow and simple. She directed you to the main hall, where meals were held, for breakfast. You ran into Thor at the entrance to the hall, and relief filled you. You weren’t looking forward to entering the hall alone. His face brightened. “Good morning! I trust you slept well?” His voice boomed. You smiled back at him. “Good morning, Thor. I did, thank you.” He nodded, pleased. Offering you his arm, he turned toward the door. “Shall we head inside?” You took his arm gratefully. “We shall.”

Breakfast was…awkward. Odin sat at the head of the table, his face stern. Frigga, to his right, and Thor, to his left, looked at the empty chair beside Thor in exasperation. You sat beside the Queen, fiddling with your hands beneath the table. All of your plates remained untouched. Loki was late. Again, if their exasperation could be interpreted properly. Odin sighed, a low rumbling sound. “The boy does not show respect in even the most mundane of moments. It is a wonder he even fulfills his general duties at all.” Frigga shook her head. “He will show. A lack of faith in him only serves to push his behavior further.” “You think this is a result of lack of faith? This is insolence at its finest, a show of disrespect toward the very simple rules we ask him to follow. Thor has no issue with them, yet the boy persists in defying me.” Odin’s voice hardened. “Please, dear,” Frigga said, “Do not pit your sons against each other in that way. Loki will show.” As if on cue, the doors swung open, echoing to the table. Loki, with a smug smile curling his lips, strode to the table. He sat beside Thor, staring at Odin defiantly. “Good morning, everyone,” He spoke smoothly, beginning to gather food on his plate. He ate slowly, tearing a piece of toast and slathering it with jam before looking around the table. “Oh,” He started mockingly, “you all didn’t have to wait for me.” Odin’s neck strained, his brow furrowed. “You disrespect the palace staff, you disrespect your post, you disrespect your family. Is there nothing that you are willing to do? Do you even think to behave yourself?” You sat silently, looking firmly down at your hands. You didn’t want to be involved in this conflict, and you feared if he noticed you, really noticed you, he would do it by force. You didn’t understand why Loki’s tardiness was so important, but you were not going to question it. Loki sneered. “My apologies, Father. But perhaps I have better things to do than posture as the obedient son. I stand in for mischief, after all.” Odin’s voice tightened. “It should not be posturing. You are a Prince, and you need to start acting like one.” “Or what?” Loki challenged. “Loki, please,” Frigga started, her voice pleading, but Odin’s voice filled the room. His fist slammed on the table, rattling the dishware. You flinched, looking up. “I will not tolerate your disrespect any longer, Loki! You are not here for-” “Odin!” Frigga exclaimed over him. “Do not continue this here. Please.” Loki’s face was frozen, contemplative. “What am I here for, Father? I am an heir to the throne of Asgard. I will fulfill my duties as needed, but I will not be your pawn.” His eyes flicked to you, and you felt your heart seize. “Particularly in terms of the joke of a marriage you are trying to impose on me.” Frigga placed a soft hand on your upper arm. “Loki…we were told of your behavior and, ahem,” She cleared her throat delicately, “opinions of this arrangement.” He rolled his eyes. “Of course, the golden boy came running to Mother and Father, didn’t he, after the pathetic thing told her woes?” Thor tensed. “Brother. Your cruelty is needless. Your ire at me is allowable, but not toward her.” “You defend this wretched woman, support her weaseling her way into our family? I am not surprised by your nobility, brother, you have always wanted to be the knight to every weak maiden you encounter. But you, father, I am surprised at.” He bared his teeth. “I mean really, to think that this woman,” He spat at you, and you could hear your own heart pounding, “is doing nothing more than plotting her way into a Prince’s bed is pointless. I’m sure her family will be pleased to have a Princess for a daughter, no less-” “That is enough.” Your own voice shocked you, hard and unwavering. “How dare you speak of my family. You know nothing, you arrogant, spiteful, disrespectful man. My family is cursed because of me. Because of my ability. It is a curse, and you will not sit here and spit on them and spit on the sacrifices they made for me.” You blinked away traitorous tears, pulling in a shuddering breath as your anger consumed you. “You have disrespected me, you made me feel like I was nothing but a speck beneath your shoe, and I can take that. I am not unfamiliar with men who believe themselves to be wolves when really they are small and pathetic and insecure in themselves. But do not disrespect my family.” The table was silent for a moment. Thor looked at you in shock at your outburst, Odin’s face arranged in a similar way. Frigga beside you kept her face composed, but you noticed a slight tick in her cheek. You glared at Loki, your ragged, angry breathing filling the room, before he smirked at you, raising an eyebrow. “She has claws, I see.” He spoke. “Glad to know you at least will have a backbone.” With that, Loki stood, the sound of his chair scraping on the floor echoing on the walls. “I will take my leave.” You let out all of the air in your lungs as soon as the door slammed shut behind him.

#loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki x reader #loki x you #loki/reader #thor odinson #loki laufeyson #arranged marriage #enemies to lovers #ao3 fic #fanfiction #hold my hand #honeyhhearted

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monzamash · 7 months ago

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just don’t understand why u keep saying you’ve gone off daniel because of ‘what he said/did earlier in the season’ yet ur perfectly happy to write for lando who also made questionable comments idk just feels hypocritical. what made landos comments ok but daniels so horrid lol it makes no sense 👍 if u want to be a daniel hater just come out and say it instead of being all coy about it and pretending like ur not being weird about it cause u say u won’t write for him and then u update ur layout and put up a picture of it lmao so which is it

i don’t know if this is the same anon that’s been sending me shit every second day for months about this - i’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and say it’s not because of the way you’ve typed this out but the message is still the same and this is the last straw.

i don’t hate daniel. if you look at my last post i said that he’s a big part of why i fell in love with f1. he was also the reason i started this blog so just because i’m not writing for him now, doesn’t mean i hate him. it’s not as black and white for me as it seems to be for you.

writing doesn’t define my blog - its something i do when i feel like it and most of the time i’m either chatting with you guys on here or supporting other writers. it was a fun escape but lately it’s been the opposite of that.

people may not like this but in my opinion daniels comments were significantly more damaging than landos vague response to a question that nobody could factually corroborate. i don’t think i’m alone in thinking that. daniel straight up said the one thing i personally hate the most when someone’s defending an abuser which is, “well [insert name] has always been good to me so…” that’s what upset me the most and now i have no desire to write for him. that is simply how i feel and if you don’t agree/understand, it’s all good. try and find other blogs who do share your views. makes life a lot easier.

anyway, did daniels comments make me want to erase every trace of him from my blog? no but i made it clear that i wouldn’t be writing for him for the foreseeable future and if anything changed, i would give people the heads up. what i absolutely won’t be doing is caving in to bullies who hide behind a shadow on the fucking internet who say i that i should delete my blog and myself while i’m at it.

so the context of why i made a header with daniel in it was that i thought including him would allow people the chance to bounce if they don’t want to read any daniel fics or interact with a blog that had a lot of daniel content in the past - people hate him and have made sure to tell me how fucked i am to still have his fics in my masterlist. thats the sort of hate that really gets to me because i’m so proud of some of those fics and spent a lot of time on them. that’s one reason why I won’t ever delete them but it’s also because there are daniel fans out there who hopefully feel like they can still interact with me even if we don’t share the exact same opinion. i don’t want that to change.

another thing to note is that this header was up for like two seconds and the fact you saw it must mean you’re just stalking my page? are you checking in to call me out the second i do something wrong? and you think i’m weird? alright lol

lastly, saying i’m being coy and weird isn’t fair - i’ve been honest about where i stand and even when i’ve been unsure, i was still being upfront and owning the fact that i didn’t know what direction this blog would take after all that. so if what i’ve said in this post or in the past isn’t enough for you, then just leave please. literally leave me alone because i don’t want to do this anymore.

#monzamail

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haechanhues · 2 years ago

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KPOP FIC RECS

So I recently (like a couple of months ago) read Bowie’s Books by John O’Connell which is a series of essays exploring David Bowie’s list of 100 Books that transformed his life and I thought it was a way to make my own. These are all fics (in some way or another) that have been memorable in many different ways and I hope to share them with you all.

This is also a full on sap train so I thought you should be ready. I’m also weirdly nervous since this feels kind of vulnerable and makes me shy. but haiii

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART FIVE

1. @/ - ??? | BTS (status : unknown)

This story starts as a mission to take down CEO JK. The mission is successful despite the fact that the two fall in love. There’s also a sequel I desperately want to read but I am unsure whether or not it’s been written or not. I also can’t seem to find the original fic. I remember the layout so clearly but no success. It’s got about three parts. But it’s amazing and I am as excited now as I was then when I found out a next part was coming. I remember reading it the first year I discovered tumblr fan fics and have never stopped thinking about it since.

2. @thedaffodilfields - Hymm Of The High Seas | ATEEZ (discontinued)

So author-nim deleted their account (or they relocated I’m not too sure on the details) and I’ll tell you when I saw it I felt distraught in the way it felt like sand slipping through my fingers. The brief rundown is that this story is about a siren who bonds with a crew of pirates and is I guess going through her own rite of passage to discover her true identity. It was amazing. It was so beautifully written that I can’t help but mourn over it. So beautiful. The setting and the place and the gradual build up of trust and friendship that borders between familial love and platonic love and romantic love. I miss this fic a lot.

3. @yminie - Feedback | BTS (one-shot)

This was one of my first stories I ever read on Tumblr and the reason I continued and started keeping a document tracking all the fics I read because I read a lot of them and my first ever tumblr crush ever. My first love of tumblr, if you will. The fic is so fun and exciting. When I first read it, it was so nasty (in the utmost best way) to me and I related to the main character a lot - the act just never appealed to me until I read it. Not to mention I was being bias wrecked by both boys at the time... But it felt so out of depth for me but I felt comfortable and looked after and it felt fun. I got really into it. Reading it four years later is a whole different experience. I think this fic was an inevitable to me.

4. @najaemism - Heart Can’t Lose | NCT (ongoing)

I found this fic at the very start of the year and very quickly it became a part of my heart and of me. Usually I’d keep the member a secret but as a sunflower, it’s just really hard to keep Haechan’s name out of my mouth. This story is impeccable, the writing, the effort...everything. This Haechan also has this weird hold on me - very college boyfriend vibes and everything. I love all the characters no matter how small of a part or big of a part they have. But I truly felt like I was falling in love with Haechan or at least rekindling. It sounds a bit delulu but it feels like the biggest reconnection of my sunflowerness and to Haechan (which is weird cause i never stopped nor dwindled) but idk it’s an amazing fic and I’m so grateful I found it. Thank you for this Haechan <3 Will never ever forget him nor stop loving him.

5. @luvrbin - Princess’ Journal | THE BOYZ (completed)

My Jelly baby <3 Haven’t seen you around in awhile, I hope you’re doing fine. One thing in particular springs to mind right now; the fact that my tags I had sputtered in the spur of the moment revealed that I was from New Zealand right away (in my defence - those characters really did deserve a hiding) It was amazing to connect through that - I really wasn’t expecting it. I was so so ecstatic reading this story and discovering the person behind it as well. One of the best decisions I had ever made was reading this story and reading the TXT one as well. But this one is really just amazing and I loved it. Love you.

6. @envirae - Have We Met Before? | ENHYPEN (ongoing)

I remember reading the synopsis like wholly fuck yes I have to read that (sorry for the cursing). Every time a chapter is uploaded it feels like a real treat and I re-read it over and over again, rest a couple of days and then read the whole thing. A bit obsessive and unhealthy but we love it no matter how much it hurts. It’s so interesting to find how the story pans out, I have a habit of trying to predict how it goes but am always left flabbergasted. Sometimes it’s like ‘omg I got it right?’ and then a couple of chapters in I get completely blindsided. It’s an amazing series of events and I am so damn whipped over the story. An amaaaazing story and can’t wait for more chapters.

7. @velvetsehun - Born To Die | EXO (ongoing)

This fic brings back memories and I’m currently having another read through and it feels like I’m having a conversation with myself from 2 years ago. It felt like my 2020 was this fic and this fic alone. I read it again last night and I dreamed about mafia! EXO. I read a lot of mafia fics in this time period because of this fic and though there are endless fics that are just as well written, I will always come back to this one and re-read it. There’s just something about this one I can’t explain. I love the main character especially. One of my favourite main characters ever to be written and I’m loving the pull between the two main leads. But I feel like there is a pull between the main character and other side(?) characters and I froth over it. Beautiful. A fic I will stay forever for.

8. @tayegi - Elements | BTS (ongoing)

This is one of the first fics I ever read on this website! I used to use my very old (not even fan one) account so I could read it - which eventually would lead to this one. I love the interaction of different genres - the subtle flirting, the platonic, the fantasy, the school side of things. This fic reminds me why I love these boys so much and that I miss them. It’s been awhile since this fic was updated but that doesn’t mean I’ll stop recommending this or stop raving about how good it is and how every BTS fan (or not BTS fan) should read it at least once. Honestly what a legend.

9. @mistymark - Vigilante/s | NCT (ongoing)

This is another fic I had another re-read of recently! Although the boys are largely emotionally unavailable, you can’t help but give most of your heart to them anyway. It kind of gave me the best of Shameless vibes - like there’s dysfunction but perhaps that’s not a bad thing. That there’s family and there’s love in a different way. I’m also going to take the sunflower opportunity and point out Haechan in this fic has been one of my favourite portrayals of Haechan and it gives me life. Also kind of unrelated but I’m obsessed with your little tidbits into your personal life and your thoughts and your whole entire masterlist. I assure you, any type of fic you gravitate towards Aspen has it (love your name so let’s shout out how much I love it).

10. @santheestallion - Sex Ed | ATEEZ (completed)

Originally, I was going to include ‘His To Take’ but after reading ‘Sex Ed’ I changed my mind. This ATEEZ member is the very definition of warm and I sincerely hope that everyone can find someone in their life that will ignite you in the way that he does. I really hope so. As for the writing, it’s the exact same. There’s a kind of warmth to the words that are written and the person who wrote them. This relationship/connection is one I find so important and it made reading these words almost unconscious. I was at my most relaxed and lighthearted and it felt so good to just feel like a feather floating in the air. There’s an amazing feeling attached to this fic and I want to share it with everyone.

11. @wooyukh - Loved | TXT (completed)

The most chaotic yet loveable couple I’ve ever shipped together. It’s the moods that co-exist for me. Shipping them so hard together that anything but is terribly offensive. Shipping them to the point the relationship is irritating. Like we love honeymoon but cmon my eyes. It was so funny and lovely but so in touch with my inner feelings towards *. What else to say except they’re beautiful - they’re both the same person. I loved every celebration for every minor change. Would I ever do it in real life to my significant other? Hell no. But did I love every single minute of this couple doing it? Yes. In total honesty another fun fic that I feel only good things for.

12. @readyplayerhobi - Flower | BTS (completed)

There was so many options, so many I may have to recommend more some other time BUT I had to put Flower. I had to. The main relationship within this fic is everything, means everything. The way they learnt about each other and learnt how to navigate the other and themselves in a way they’ve never quite allowed themselves to before really touched me for some reasons. I have never been touched in such a way before so it’s a new experience. I don’t know how to articulate it at all but it’s there and it’s wonderful and I want everyone to experience the same. For me it was this fic and I want someone else to find that feeling for themselves.

13. @talkbykhalid - To : All The Boys I’ve Loved Before | ATEEZ (discontinued)

I literally found out it was discontinued today but nevertheless it’s going on here still. I’ve read a lot of this concept but this one stuck. It’s been one of my favourite fics for a long time. I loved all the different dynamics. I love the concept of having different people that influence you in different ways. I’ve always adored it. I will forever adore this story and this author 💕. I’m sad that you’re discontinuing but I’m happy that it’s because its essentially because you’re more interested in others and to plan it. Talk about writing growth and it’s one I support with my whole heart <3.

14. @yeoldontknow - 143 I Want You | EXO (one-shot)

Before this, I was used to smut that was quite vigorous and kinky and all that good stuff. BUT I’ve never quite seen smut as beautiful as this. It’s complete artistry is what it is. Like goosebumps. I can just imagine it. I first read this when I was on my period and it was a game changer. I didn’t know how to act. I also loved the implication on how the relationship played out - it felt very domestic, very loving and very healthy. There was so much to this story that wasn’t smut and I think that’s beautiful. I’m being completely serious about the artistry behind it. It was amazing and will forever be one of my favourites. I’ll scream it out to the choir. I’ll pass the pamphlets. I will hold a Ted Talk just to talk about it i don’t care - I’ll do it.

15. @xherxx - Thesis It? | BTS (completed)

God this story really is some nostalgia. It also has a completed sequel may I add! This was a rollercoaster ride like no other and the fact that it manages to work has me flabbergasted. Actual me would not be able to handle the events of this fic but I’m glad to see there’s a version of me that can. This is one for the chaotic. The wild and the free. I’m actually speechless looking back at it. It still has me in this unexplainable grip. Like I always get excited to get through the fic chapter by chapter, word by word. Like now re-reading it, it brings me back to the me I was a couple of years ago and there’s actually something different and I’m surprised. Woah. It’s been a long ride.

16. @ncteez - Definition of Hate | NCT (completed)

I read this fairly recently and I just immediately added it to this list. I couldn’t fucking wait to write about it. This fic has me frothing since the first chapter and I can’t remember how I found it - maybe I just let tumblr scrolling do it’s thing? In this instance, tumblr is my religion and author-nim my god. I fucking love this fic and I’m going to think about it for a long time. I love the balance of platonic and romantic in this. I love that although the MC has her faults - she’s inevitably loved and held accountable all the same. The writing style is absolutely gorgeous and author-nim I love you forever and ever. Also when I read it - I had the best luck that day? My mum and dad were buying me albums... My cousin paid for my lunch and we had a good hour. Like I felt so happy in a way you just catch yourself appreciating life all the more you know?

17. @cloudykyu - Unstan | THE BOYZ (completed)

Usually I stay away from a fic series/social au until the author is a couple of chapters in and initially that was going to be the plan for this. But I couldn’t help myself obviously and I read it. Author-nim’s writing style is actually so lovely and one of the loveliest I’ve ever had the pleasure of reading. A social au you can literally melt through - it’s so lovely. There’s something like a uno-reverse in here that I think is so refreshing and everything’s just pink in the best way and it’s so safe and comforting. I think the vibe of this is very Sunwoo and I think everyone needs to read this whether you stan The Boyz or not (in saying that if you don’t you definitely should). Sad to see author-nim is no longer on tumblr though :(

18. @ahgaseda - To Kill An Empire | GOT7 (ongoing)

Now, this was another hard decision of what fic would go here honestly. I have tons of favourites in all honesty. But, I have to comment on this one - I think. Just the relationship between each of the characters, what they do, how they talk. The character building talent that author-nim has is impeccable and inspires me in the greatest of ways. I love the descriptions and I love scrolling through these stories. It’s kind of romantic almost. Reading this had this like rejuvenated of the Ahgase in me and I’m so glad for that. I also reconnected with a very good friend of mine who is on a very different path to me and I’m glad. I’m so glad for this book and this author and the events that followed after it.

19. @boba-beom - Airport Crush | TXT (one-shot)

Honestly I was astounded by this fic the first time I read it and the second time and the third time. The feeling never dwindled and I don’t think it ever will. I read this at night and I’m actually surprised I (finally) managed to sleep after reading this. I spent hours just lying on my back just thinking about it. It went straight on my naughty list. One of my favourite (light?) smut fics I’ve ever read. I wanted to see if there was a continuation and so curious about the characters and the events that followed afterwards. It was beautiful and romantic even though the status of their relationship is very ‘quick’ and abides by the ‘pining’ trope shall we say.

20. @kimnjss - Strawberry Kisses | BTS (completed)

Ah look! It’s my favourite fic to reread over and over again. This has become one of my favourite fics period, really. It’s basically a comfort read for me. It’s such a fun and lighthearted fic but it also holds a really deep connection that I just want to cherish. This is a fic to be cherished with your whole entire heart and that’s exactly what I did. I think I could probably write a love story about it if I had the time. Please excuse me while I try to sound less like a nutter for this fic but I can’t. I feel like I need to shout to describe how this fic makes me feel and just the absolute masterpiece that it was. So for that, I love and appreciate you.

author’s note : time to run awayyyyyy but do ENJOY THESE

#bts fic rec #ateez fic rec #nct fic rec #the boyz fic rec #tbz fic rec #enhypen fic rec #enha fic rec #exo fic rec #tomorrow x together fic rec #txt fic rec #got7 fic rec #kpop fic rec

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mildkleptomaniac · 3 years ago

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brunch — jj maybank x kook!reader

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: “ Can you do a jj x reader? He's a waiter at the club and her family is there for brunch, her parents don't know about their relationship and are kinda rude to him. Reader's done with their attitude and deffends jj and reveals their relationship by accident and her parents get mad. Love all your fics, you're so talented! ”

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.6k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: just some angst and an outburst! rude parents

𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆: sorry this took forever to get out! school semester just started, along with a new job. and I’m finally in the process of feeling better. I’m posting this on mobile so sorry if they layout is weird, but I hope you enjoy!

Y/N sat at the table, her parents sitting across from her as they stared at the menu. According to her parents, the world ran around them. They didn’t seem to care that they would take more than enough time to order and then usher the waiter over whenever it would be convenient for them. They would manage to make brunch turn into dinner with the amount of time they would sit at the table and slowly pick at the bread for an appetizer while slowly sipping their mimosas.

Y/N enjoyed going out for meals, but never with her parents. Sometimes she felt like she had to babysit them, especially with how they treated employees. She always apologized whenever the waiter would catch a glance at Y/N and she would give them an apologetic smile. Not to mention the amount of times she would slip in a few extra bills for the tip. Her parents were harsh when it came to the working class, which she didn’t quite understand.

But today at the Kildare Country Club, Y/N’s boyfriend would be their waiter.

JJ Maybank.

Y/N’s secret Pogue boyfriend. He was the boy that her parents would fear for her to fall in love with because they knew all too well about his family and their history. Her parents would remind her of the “better” selection of boys to pick from, which either included Kelce or Topper. Luckily her parents never mentioned Rafe Cameron—it’s almost like they knew in their gut that he wasn’t the best candidate to date.

Y/N’s parents feared that Pogues will just use her to get further in life and that she’s just some doormat to her friends. But that wasn’t the case at all, if anything—Y/N was the glue to the friend group after she began dating JJ.

A few lies a week would keep her parents fooled, thinking she was spending her time studying or volunteering when in reality, she was relaxing at the Chateau or lounging on the HMS Pogue in JJ’s lap as they sipped on cheap beers.

“Good morning, folks. My name is JJ and I’ll be your waiter today. Can I start you off with anything to drink?” The blonde flashed his smile at the table, his eyes meeting Y/N’s. A comfort washed over the girl, his gaze always soothed any tension built in her body.

“Isn’t it Mimosa Sunday?” Her mother glanced upwards from the menu, voice flat.

“Yes, m’am. Bottomless Mimosas all Sunday.” JJ replied.

“Then get it started. Y/N would have a glass of water.” Her mother’s eyes flickered back to the menu. Y/N pursed her lips, shifting in her seat.

“What would you like to drink, miss?” JJ asked Y/N, ignoring her mother’s statement. Her eyes widened and she cleared her throat.

“I’ll take a sweet ice tea, please. With a side of water, please.” She made sure to emphasize the word ‘please’ around her parents. A term to slip their vocabulary whenever they were brought face to face with the working class.

“Y/N, don’t waste your calories on a drink.” Her mother shook her head.

“It’d be okay and I don’t want to talk about that right now in front of the waiter.” She remarked through her teeth, eyes looking back between her parents and her boyfriend.

“One sweet tea and bottomless Mimosas coming right up.” He jotted the order on his pad before turning on his heel. Y/N’s father cleared his throat and it caught JJ’s attention.

“Young man, we weren’t done ordering. We would like to place an order for an appetizer.”

Y/N could feel her shoulders ache from how pinched they were with tension. Her parents absolutely embarrassed her to no end with their lack of consideration or manners. She’s surprised they got this far in life by treating people like this. They were no different than any other person.

“We would like the Mini Herb Smoked Salmon Frittatas with Deviled Eggs.” Y/N’s father read off the menu.

“I’ll get that in as soon as possible, sir. And I’ll be right out with the drinks.” He smiled before walking away. He glanced back at his girlfriend and sent her a reassuring smile, trying to let her know that he was doing okay.

She knew her parents weren’t the worse to deal with, but they could be difficult.

“I’m surprised they allow a Maybank to work at this establishment. He probably steals all the soaps and colognes from the bathroom and sells them on the street.” Her father laughed, shaking his head.

“Oh honey, you’re probably right. His father is such a sleaze, I wouldn’t be surprised if he makes the boy bring home scraps from the dumpster!”

“I’m sorry, but what the hell is wrong with you both?” Y/N questioned, her eyebrows furrowed as she stared in distaste at her parent’s banter.

“Excuse me, young lady. Watch your language.” Her father reprimanded.

“Excuse me? Excuse you! You don’t even know JJ and you’re talking poorly about him. Obviously, he is working hard to make money. Bold of you to assume that he isn’t a hard worker—but he is. Do you not see him mowing lawns for the neighbors? Helping Hayward run groceries on the docks? If his family’s wealth is such an issue to you, why not help donate clothes and food to him?” Y/N’s outburst caught other tables' attention. She stood up in her spot, her hands clenching the table cloth.

“Y/N, you are causing a scene. You need to sit down right now or else you’re in major trouble.” Her mother’s voice was sharp.

JJ walked to the table, pretending to be oblivious to his girlfriend’s statements, which the whole restaurant practically heard her defending him. “Here are the Mimosas and the sweet tea. The starters will be out shortly. Can I get you anything else in the meantime?” He faked a smile.

“I don’t care if I’m causing a scene, because you’re causing a problem! You’re being rude for absolutely I reason towards JJ.” She remained standing and JJ stood there awkwardly, unsure of what the right move would be in this situation.

“Why do you care about this, Pogue? He has no meaning to our lives—he doesn’t benefit society, sweetheart.” Her father spoke in a softer tone.

“You’re unbelievable, dad! JJ Maybank is a human being who works to survive! He isn’t some scummy person and—in fact, he is my boyfriend! Mom, Dad, meet my boyfriend, JJ Maybank.” Y/N finally snapped and she gestured towards the blonde who stood there. He looked like a deer in headlights.

“Y/N, stop embarrassing the poor boy at work and yourself.” Her mother’s face grew red—she wasn’t sure if it was from anger or embarrassment herself.

“I’m not embarrassing myself, mom. This is my boyfriend. We’ve been dating for a few months now and this is where I’ve been. I’ve been dating a Pogue. You’re sweet, precious daughter is dating this Pogue. And he is actually fantastic and cares about me—more than you two ever do!” She threw her fabric napkin on the table before reaching into her purse. She pulled out a rather large dollar bill and stuffed it into JJ’s pocket. “Here is a tip that they won’t be giving you, babe. But I think you deserve it.” Y/N kissed his cheek before walking away from the table.

JJ cleared his throat and looked around the area, “would you like a different waiter, today?”

Y/N went inside the Country Club and paced around the entrance way. She ran a hand through her hair and she tried calming herself down. She had never had that much confidence to confront her parents like that, but she knew she would face the consequences when she would go home.

A hand clamped down on her shoulder and she turned around to face her boyfriend.

“JJ—I am so sorry all of that happened and—“ He interrupted her by cupping her cheeks and pulling her in for a kiss.

“You’re so hot when you’re mad and defending me.” He whispered against her lips. She let out a light laugh and they kissed once more. “You don’t need to apologize babe, what you did was awesome. Insane, but awesome.”

“My parents are going to kill me,” she laughed again. The reality setting in quickly.

“Then stay at the Chateau with me tonight. What’s gonna happen that’s not already? Plus, we can sleep together and I can have you tell everyone how you had a scene at brunch.” He teased, his fingers playing with the ends of her hair.

“That…that sounds nice.” She sighed, closing her eyes. JJ pressed a kiss to the temple of her head.

“I also put in your breakfast order if you wanna eat at the bar. I used the money you gave me for it.” He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. She looked at him gratefully.

“You’re the best, J. I love you,”

“Even if I’m a Pogue?”

“Most definitely if you’re a Pogue. I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

taglist: @abbyg217 @taylathornton @lemur46 @urdadsapussy @webmeupspiderdaddy @rosarosse @5sos-fic-recs @littlethingsinmymind @pogueslandia @mrs-cameron @starduststarkey @jjshoeobx29872 @caswinchester2000 @starksvixen @mrs-talia-cameron @newtpsd @rottenstyx @professional-busboy @hallecarey1 @alwaysclassyeagle @cake2coke @siriusbutalsono @princessmaybank @wolfstar-lb @jorja-cameron @emeraldheartbreaker @nicavass

#jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #( jj maybank )#jj maybank x reader #outer banks imagine #obx imagines #jj maybank x kook!reader #kook!reader

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myherowritings · 4 years ago

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Three in the Morning

— You’ve missed your best friend after not seeing him for over a week. To fix that problem, you show up at his window at three in the morning to fill the Iwaizumi-shaped void in your heart.

pairing: iwaizumi hajime x reader word count: 2.9k genre: college/university au, fluff warnings: intoxication (reader is tipsy hghfjsd), jealous reader at one point, cuddling in bed, tooth-rotting fluff

a/n: written for bnha sanctuary one prompt haikyuu collab! :D a bunch of writers wrote their take on the same prompt “it’s 3am why are you outside my window” and this is the fic i came up with based on it! check out the other amazing fics here u won’t regret it ;) xx sof

「 hq masterlist 」

Walking around in the middle of the night just the slightest bit tipsy wasn’t the smartest thing you’ve done in your whole college career, but you could safely say it wasn’t the dumbest— Not that it was something you should be proud of.

You and your roommates had just gotten home from a party and, for some odd reason, you had the sudden urge to see one of your best friends, Iwaizumi Hajime, right at that very moment. He had been studying for midterms all week and you weren’t able to hang out with each other like you normally did, causing a Iwaizumi-shaped void that you wanted to fill. (In a strictly platonic way, of course.)

And when you were half-sleep deprived, half-inebriated, it wasn’t uncommon for you to be rather...impulsive. From ordering too much takeout from any “open 24-hour” restaurant within a five mile radius, to uploading a video of you trying to come up with the perfect pasta recipe, you’ve done a handful of bizarre things during the ungodly hours of the night. But even you weren’t sure what was going on through your mind that convinced you sneaking out of your apartment and heading to Iwaizumi’s nearby was the best course of action while still slightly intoxicated.

The clock on your phone read that it was only a quarter ‘til three and you quickly shrugged on a jacket and sent Iwaizumi a sloppy “i’m omw iwaaaachann” text before stepping foot outside your door, making sure to shut it silently as to not awaken your roommates who had just fallen asleep.

As you made your way through your apartment complex, the thought briefly crossed your mind that Iwaizumi might be sleeping at the moment, especially since he had just finished his midterm exams, but you shrugged it off. You would cross that hurdle when you got there.

And so, when you finally—through some miracle from above—arrived at Iwaizumi’s in one piece, you weren’t sure what else to do other then stare at his half cracked open window. Since he lived on the second floor, it wasn't uncommon for him to leave a window open for air to come through during the hot seasons.

“Iwaizumi!” you yelled in a quiet whisper, hoping the wind would carry your words into his apartment for you.

When you received no reply, you pulled our your phone and began to message him. Although Iwaizumi liked to pretend he was an unsentimental guy who didn’t have time to deal with others’ bullshit, it was obvious that was false. He cared a lot about everyone, especially his friends. Maybe even too much. And one of the ways he showed he secretly cared was always having his phone on full ringer in case anyone needed help in the middle of the night— Something that was surprisingly quite common when you were friends with the chaos that was Oikawa.

Would it be mean to use that knowledge to your own advantage and spam Iwaizumi until he replied?

Maybe.

But in your defense, you were practically having an emergency only he could help with. You desperately needed your Iwaizumi fix after not having seen him in over a week and there was no one better to help you that problem than Iwaizumi himself.

Besides, texting him until he wakes up would be better than Romeo-and-Julieting this and climbing in through his window. Trying to scale a building while tipsy was too idiotic, even for you.

Y/N: are u awakeee?

Y/N: wakey wakey

Y/N: i miss u :(

Y/N: i’m outside ur window wink wonk

Y/N: iwaaa >.>

There was a cacophonous sound of loud text chimes ringing one after the other followed by a deep grunt and stretching sound. You pictured Iwaizumi blearily getting out of bed and checking his phone that he kept across the room (to minimize at-night screen time, he claimed) with a heavy-lidded look on his face.

After a few seconds of unidentifiable shuffles, you heard a strangled cry of, “What the—?!” before you saw the shadow of his head through the window screen.

“Y/N?” he asked incredulously, voice still rough and scratchy from having just been awakened.

You waved, beaming wildly. ��Iwaizumi!”

There was a deep sigh as he cracked the glass open even wider. “It’s three in the morning— Why are you outside my window?” He peered down at you almost stumbling on the spot. “And are you drunk?”

“Barely,” you assured, though you still felt a slight buzz in your fingertips. “I missed you so I came here.”

“I— What? I mean— Huh?” he demanded, visible confusion in his tone. He rubbed his forehead before correcting himself. “I mean I miss you too. But it’s three in the morning! You couldn’t wait to miss me in a few hours instead?”

You didn’t know whether to pout because he didn’t grow some Rapunzel hair and let you climb it up to the window and fall into his open arms like you’d imagined, or cheer because he said he missed you too. Blissfully, you chose the latter. “You miss me?”

“Is that really all you heard?” said Iwaizumi with a snort before shaking his head in defeat. “Come up here. I’ll unlock the door for you.”

Your face lit up instantly as you nodded, bounding up the stairs of his apartment building and meeting with him face-to-face at his doorstep.

He had his arms folded over his chest as he waited for you at the entrance and, though he had tired circles under his eyes and still seemed half-asleep, was looking as attractive as ever. Not even the white polka dots on his pajama shorts could talk away from that fact. If anything, it made him all the more adorable.

“Iwa-chan!” you greeted excitedly, but still careful as to make sure you weren’t loud enough to wake up his roommate. You opened your arms out and he begrudgingly accepted your embrace. (Well, he tried to seem begrudging at least. But you saw his hidden smile as you nestled your chin on his shoulder.) “I missed you.”

“You said that already, dumbass,” he said with a tsk. He patted the top of your head before pulling away from your hug promptly. “You’re cold. Have you been standing outside for long?”

Pursing your lips, you looked up at him in confusion. “I don’t feel cold.”

“Because you’re too drunk to register it, probably.” With his warm hand on the small of your back, Iwaizumi ushered you inside and shut the door behind you. “Let’s go to my room so we don’t wake up my roommate, yeah?”

“‘Kay.”

Having visited his place so many times before, you knew it like it was your own apartment— Disregard the fact that your apartments had almost the same exact layout since you lived in the same complex. After sliding off your shoes at the entrance, you led the way to his room with Iwaizumi following closely behind you.

“Did you go to a party tonight?” he asked, eyes trailing down your body that was clad in an oversized t-shirt and fuzzy socks. Iwaizumi took a seat on his bed and patted the spot next to him for you to join.

Laughing at his puzzled expression, you nodded. “Yeah, but I went to my place to change and get ready for bed,” you explained. “Tried sleeping but I missed you too much and wanted to see your face.”

You climbed onto the mattress with him and wiggled around until you found a comfy spot. The comfy spot happened to be side-by-side with Iwazumi, your back against the wall and cold thigh pressed against his warm one. You rested your head on his shoulder and he lazily drew circles onto your knee with the pad of his thumb.

Intimacy like this wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for the two of you— That’s just how things were. He was warm and comfy and good at cuddling, and you liked that.

It could maybe be considered just normal friendship things you two did with everyone if it weren’t for the fact that Iwaizumi wasn’t typically comfortable with physical touch from anyone other than you. And maybe if you also ignored that you weren’t too keen on the thought of him one day being this close to anyone else. If truth be told, you didn’t like the thought of that at all.

With a small huff, you hooked your left arm with Iwaizumi’s right, hugging his bicep to you in an almost clingy manner.

“You good?” he asked, lightly chuckling as he looked down at you gripping onto his side. “Or something troubling you?”

You hummed unsure how to answer. There wasn’t enough alcohol in your system for you to completely spill your guts with know remorse, though being tipsy did greatly increase your likelihood of being loose-lipped. “I’m just thinking about someone else being with you like this.”

Iwaizumi stiffened, shoulders tensing ever so slightly before he quickly relaxed his muscles again. He prompted gruffly, throat so tight it came out as a murmur, “And?”

“I don’t like it.”

He let out a sharp chuckle. “I see.”

Out of the corner of your eye you saw a smile on his face and you continued on. “You’ve been studying a lot with Sasaki-san lately.”

“Hmm. Have I?”

You nodded. “You have your biomechanics class with her, right?”

“Yeah. I guess we studied for the exam together for a few nights.”

There was a funny feeling in your stomach at the thought of him spending his nights studying with someone that then spiraled to you picturing them being compatible and falling in love and spending the rest of their lives together. You winced, trying to shake it off. You were one of his best friends; it’s not like you had the right to feel that way.

“She’s really pretty,” you said, hoping it would prompt him to talk more about her. Even if you had no right, you still wanted to know—

By now, the laughter Iwaizumi was struggling to hold in bubbled out of his mouth, cutting you off mid-thought. His shoulders bounced up and down and you reluctantly sat up from your position resting on top of him to give him a look of confusion.

“Why are you laughing at me?” you pouted. Your eyebrows were furrowed and the corners of your lips were quirked down, cheeks slightly puffed.

He nudged your side gently with his elbow. You nudged him back, but moved away before he could retaliate and start a nudge war. “Because you sound jealous and it’s funny.”

“I didn’t say I was jealous.”

“I didn’t say you said that.”

“I’m not jealous,” you corrected.

“Now that’s debatable.”

Your cheeks flooded with heat, grabbing a pillow off the head of Iwaizumi’s bed to hide the embarrassed look on your face, seconds away from throwing it at him if he started to laugh any louder. You huffed. You were not jealous. There was no way. You just didn’t like imagining one of your best friends with another person doing coupley things that you only wanted him to do with you. But that definitely wasn’t jealousy.

(Okay, fine. You were jealous. But you couldn’t admit that to Iwaizumi.)

“That’s just your lack of sleep talking,” you sulked, lying down on his bed with a pillow still over your face. “Go to sleep now.”

“I was asleep. Until someone showed up at my window unannounced and woke me up.”

“They sound annoying.”

He barked out a laughter and you felt the weight on the bed shift. The compressed springs near your feet where Iwaizumi sat released its tension before you felt a dip beside you. You held your breath, the warmth from Iwaizumi’s body radiating onto yours.

While sleeping in the same bed together wasn’t as common as just cuddling, it wasn’t something that was exactly rare. There were times when you came over to watch movies or a television series with him until you both passed out on his bed. And other times when he was feeling stressed or you were feeling sad and neither of you wanted to sleep alone. You knew if you called, he would invite you in. And it was the same if he came to you.

But that didn’t make your heart beat any less rapidly as you waited in anticipation for Iwaizumi to get under the sheets with you. No matter how many times you fell asleep together, that didn’t stop the rush of nerves and tense air of awkwardness from flooding the room. However, it took just one touch to break the ice and before you knew it, you were snuggling up next to him in complete contentment.

“They’re not annoying,” he said firmly, large hand resting on the curve of your hip. “Actually, I’m glad they showed up even though it was three in the morning and I was running on two hours of sleep from the previous day.” You winced at his words, the alcohol gone from your system by now and you realized the insensitivity of your actions. Still, your stomach fluttered when he said he was glad to see you. “Because I missed them too.”

You blinked slowly. “You’re talking about me right?”

Through the moonlight from the window, you saw him roll his eyes with a grin. “Is there anyone else you think I’d let into my bed at this hour?”

“Oikawa.”

He considered it. “Well, maybe. But it wouldn’t so much be me letting him than him weaseling his way in.”

You nodded solemnly, as if it made perfect sense. Because it did. “Fair enough. He’s the only other person I’d let into my bed like this too,” you admitted, earning a laugh out of the both of you. “Well, besides Oikawa then, there’s no one else you’d sleep with like this?”

“There hasn’t been since we started college. I doubt there would be anyone to change that. Nor would I want anyone to.”

For the second time tonight, you felt heat rise to your cheeks and had the sudden urge to turn the other way and stare at the wall instead of Iwaizumi. But he held you tight by the waist so you couldn’t wiggle your way out of his grasp— Which did not, at all, help with the flaming face situation.

He only wanted you? There was a euphoric feeling in your chest when you realized he felt that way, and you felt the same.

“Someone’s bold tonight,” you managed to choke out, softly pressing your shaky fingers to the center of Iwaizumi’s chest. You felt the outlines of his toned pectorals beneath your palm and you had to remind yourself to keep on breathing.

“It’s from the lack of sleep. Sorry.” He didn’t sound apologetic. In fact, he seemed the opposite of apologetic when he brought you almost imperceptibly closer to him. If you weren’t so aware of the spatial distance (or lack thereof) between the two of you, there was no way you would have noticed. But you did. And you didn’t mind it. “I don’t have my usual filter.”

“Maybe I like you like this,” you said without missing a beat. Your initial reaction was to be embarrassed about the words that just left your mouth, but when you saw his growing smile, you felt a rush of assurance coursing through you. “I always like you, I suppose.”

“Like me?” he prompted, almost teasingly. “In what way?”

You gulped. Was this Iwaizumi being flirty?

Sure, it wasn’t uncommon for him to compliment you and occasionally play around— But if you thought your heart would ever be ready for him to actually flirt, you certainly thought wrong. You weren’t ready at all.

“L-Lots of ways,” you stammered out. “But in particular, the ‘I think you’re cute and I maybe want to date you’ way.”

“Funny.” His voice was a low whisper that rasped in your ear. “I think I like you in that way too.”

“You think?”

“I know.”

“Huh. Well, if we both like each other in that way…maybe we should…” you trailed off, feelings of timidness suddenly overcoming you. “You know…”

“Date?” he supplied with a knowing grin. You nodded bashfully. “Tomorrow.” There was an air of promise and sincerity in his tone. “Let’s get some sleep and then when we wake up we can go on our first date.”

Tranquility spread through your veins as you let out a happy sigh, your muscles growing lax at your calmed state. Although your heart was beating out of your chest at the prospect of actually dating Iwaizumi, his comforting embrace was enough to lull you into sleep. Your senses were flooded with him—his touch, his smell, the quiet sound of his steady breathing—and you realized there was no other place you’d rather be.

“Are you sure you won’t be too tired from exams?” you said before sleep overtook the both of you. “And from me waking you up in the middle of the night? Which…sorry for that again, by the way.”

“Don’t apologize. It was worth it,” he mumbled, lips brushing against your forehead as your eyelids fluttered shut. “I’ll always be here when you need me. Even if it’s at three in the morning.”

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todoscript · 4 years ago

Text

lilies & lilacs pt. i

SUMMARY: A dilemma with his grand charity gala brings Todoroki Shouto, CEO of Todoroki Enterprises, at your humble flower shop’s doorstep.

pairing: ceo!todoroki shouto x florist!reader

genre: eventual smut. fluff. slow burn. no quirks au.

word count: 5.6k+

warnings: none in this part, but expect sexual content in the future.

author’s note: this has been rotting in my wips for a couple of months now, but i finally decided to post it with the decision of progressing the story into parts. thank you to the lovely rosie aka @shoutogepi for initially betareading this and keeping the hype up for the fic in our chats together (love you <333)! feedback is welcomed and before you ask, im opening a taglist for the next 2 parts so just ask if you wish to be included

The uneasy padding of her boss’ dress shoes across the floor of his office made the secretary restless. She knew the bad news she delivered would cause some displeasure to stir within him, but never would she expect his tough bearings to falter, his troubles conveyed in hasty steps and frayed skin skewing those handsome features.

During the past two years she’s worked for him, she always thought his expression was nearly unreadable. When it came to his high position, her boss was forward and direct at conducting business—calm, stoic, and a perfect representation of efficiency and strong work ethic in his field. So while she witnessed the man’s uncharacteristic distress before her eyes, she wasn’t sure how this could end well for her.

Sweat began beading her forehead at the tension creeping between each tap of his feet against the hardwood below, coming to an unnerving halt behind his desk. When her eyes found his, all she could gather in those gray and turquoise clouds was annoyance toward their current predicament.

“What do you mean we don’t have a florist booked yet?” he repeated the dilemma she relayed to him merely moments ago. Hearing the agitation in his voice caused a nervous gulp to drop in her throat. She clutched her clipboard firmly in her arms to keep herself anchored in the wake of her boss’ growing frustration. However, she was still unsure how to continue as the words remained sealed in her mouth.

“Well?” Noticing his secretary’s lack of response, he pushed forward, hands leaning against the edge of his mahogany desk. The woman urged herself to endure the obstacles by first breathing through her nose before swallowing the lump in her throat, responding quickly.

“Um, Mr. Todoroki, sir, it seems all the florists on our list have all been booked for other events for the rest of the month,” she said, but mentally scolded herself when she heard herself sputter in such an unprofessional manner. Despite that, she prayed the explanation was enough to sate even a fraction of her boss’ inner turmoil.

Shouto approached her answer with silence before that foreseeable sigh left his lips, spilling with exasperation. He turned, his back facing the secretary, gaze lined to the windows gracing him with sunlight behind his desk. Stuck in contemplation, he pinched the bridge of his nose, mouth pursed in a firm line.

Where am I going to find a florist in time for this damn charity gala? He internally griped, closing his eyes as if that would help him uncover the solution to this untimely mess.

His esteemed company, Todoroki Enterprises, had arranged a plan to hold a widely anticipated charity gala by the end of this month. The event was conducted to raise funds for all manners of different charities that would vary in the level of grandeur on display. And given that the organizing for the event would be under his very name, Shouto had the critical responsibility of ensuring nothing but peak quality to those that would attend.

His staff had long procured the venue and were managing the layout of the gala. They sought out some suitable entertainment, booked catering, and scheduled for the charity auctions and raffles to take place throughout the night. What was still needed were the decorations, and right now that was where they hit their deadend with no florist currently reserved.

And here’s the real kicker: the gala was two weeks away.

Two. Weeks.

How he allowed for such errors to occur was beyond him at this point. All that really mattered was that he found a way to correct those mistakes and fast.

As much as Shouto figured he could skip past the flowers and substitute them with some other kind of flashy decorations, he already had a clear idea of how he wanted the gala to look. The floral arrangements would compliment the theme of the event exceedingly well. Turning back on the plan would be an insult to everyone’s prepared attire for the evening, with the dress code already sent out to all the distinguished guests invited to this grandiose ball. No doubt in his mind, he needed that florist, and needed them stat.

Sure on his resolution, he finally shifted to face his secretary. The anxious expression plastered on her face greeted him, and at that, Shouto bit his lip. His guilt surfaced for allowing his emotions to affect his workspace. He knew better than to take out his frivolous thoughts on his staff, who very well had no control over the situation. So he eased the atmosphere, attempting to lift the tension surrounding his office in the dreary gray of his temper.

“Nishiyama, I’m sorry for my behavior just now,” he apologized. The secretary, in turn, was taken aback, eyes widened. Her anxiety slowly whittled away as she scampered to return his kind gesture.

“Oh no, sir, it’s fine! I’m sure you were just feeling stressed hearing the news. I surely would be if I were in your shoes.”

“No, it’s not. I was acting childish despite how much you and everyone have done so far for the event,” Shouto said, “I should be thankful for your time, considering you also have a family to take care of at home.”

While the woman stared at him, abashed by his sincerity, Shouto swiveled his chair around to take a seat. A much-needed seat to be entirely honest. His secretary was not kidding about how the bad news seemed to harrow some stress in his body. But, being accustomed to having this weight pushed on his shoulders from the very moment he was announced the head of the company many years ago, he more than anticipated the stress to come with the job.

Shouto spared his secretary one last glance before his eyes darted down between the important papers sprawled on his desk. “If that’s all the news we needed to address today then you’re dismissed, Nishiyama. Carry on with the rest of the organizing as planned,” he ordered. Nishiyama lowered her clipboard to her hip.

“R-Right. Thank you, sir.” She parted his presence with a curt bow. Shouto picked up on her heels clicking toward his office door until they suddenly stopped altogether, looking back at the man midway. “What about the florist, sir?” she asked, concerned at the unresolved predicament lingering in the air. Her question wasn’t met with an immediate reply, but Shouto eventually gave her an answer he deemed adequate of a response. His words were coated with as much reassurance as he could muster in this situation.

“Don’t worry, I’ll handle it myself.”

The task was easier said than done.

Usually, when it came to booking a florist for special occasions like this, you’d want to contact them months ahead of the scheduled date to ensure maximum efficiency and work out any problems that should arise. But there were only two weeks left until the awaited charity gala.

Shouto was certainly pushing his luck at this point and to a dangerous degree. If he didn’t find someone to arrange the flowers for the ball soon, the venue might be absent of all life and mood, essentially flopping from missing such a key element. Shouto could not allow for that to happen.

Given his word, he took it in his hands to rectify this mistake. For the entirety of the day, he sifted through the aforementioned list of florists his secretary had provided him—extended thanks to his team’s desperate search for more options.

All he had to do was narrow down the lineup. Unfortunately, those efforts may as well have been all for naught.

“Hello, is this Himawari’s Garden? I’d like to speak with the head florist there about arranging the flowers for a gala my company has been planning—”

“I’m terribly sorry, sir, but we’re currently busy preparing for a big wedding coming up next week. If you’d like, I can try and book our services for you toward the next month or so when we’ll be available?”

Shouto’s brows tightened during the exchange—a gesture he’d been repeating as of late while he dwindled the line of florists. If he kept it up, those wrinkles might be embedded into his skin permanently. He was at least grateful he managed to thwart the heavy breath of air that threatened to leave his lips and reveal his frustration to the woman on the phone.

“No, that’s fine. Thank you for your time.” With that, he hung up.

Shouto leaned back in his seat in exasperation, his weight pressed into the cushions as his eyes situated themselves toward the ceiling. The consistent taps of his fingers on his mahogany desk were all he heard amidst his deep contemplation. His eyes lidded shut in an attempt to seek a moment of refuge from the stress, but his conscience began eating at him.

Of course, what was he thinking? The beginnings of spring to late autumns were the mark of wedding season—the time where florists and other businesses specializing in decorative arrangements thrived and busied themselves with eager clients. Not only that, but it was also the month of June. The sixth month of the year was undoubtedly the most popular month among couples to hold their weddings, and he had witnessed this fact firsthand through his myriad of fruitless phone calls.

Shouto had thoroughly wrung through his rope and teetered on the edge of complete defeat. He sealed down his most recent loss at the hand of another busy floral business by striking a line across Himawari’s Garden on his list. At that, the total tallied to thirty whole flower shops. Thirty unsuccessful attempts.

That sigh he contained during the phone call found its way out of his throat in dramatic waves of displeasure

“You alright, sir?”

His administrative assistant, Midoriya Izuku, heard his huffs when he entered the threshold of Shouto’s office. He noted his boss’ hunched posture and the rare crease crinkled between his nose bridge, pressed against his hands that were clenched together above his desk.

“I’m guessing the new list of florists was also a no-go?”

Shouto didn’t offer any words, instead sliding said list—now fully crossed out—toward his assistant as his reply. Craning his head for a better look, Midoriya feigned a smile, not wanting to let the man’s defeat consume the mood entirely.

“Well... I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised… Wedding season is upon us after all.”

Oh yes, Midoriya. Shouto knew that very well. So much so that he sunk further into his desk at the reminder, head practically drooped with a gloomy rain cloud hovering atop him. The green-haired assistant fervently shook his head back-and-forth upon realizing his remark had thrown salt into his wound. “Oh, I-I mean... Don’t worry, sir! I’m sure we’ll still be able to sort out this problem in time before the gala!” he sputtered to help alleviate the despair that crept in, but it came to no avail according to his boss’ silent sulky demeanor. That was when Midoriya remembered the two cups of hot coffee held in each of his hands.

“Ah, right, I made you some coffee! I figured you could use one considering you’ve been cooped up in your office all day.” Setting one in front of him, Shouto perked up at the nutty aroma that slowly slipped into his senses. He eyed the fresh cup of coffee tentatively, the steam flitting above it in wisps.

Lifting the cup, the rich smell wafted further into his nostrils, imbuing him with that familiar peace he usually reveled in. On any ordinary day, he’d be accompanied by his classic roasted blend perched on his desk, with no problems threatening to disturb his peaceful routine. Not anything like today. Not anything like this dilemma of a desperate time crunch for a florist.

Perhaps that was what he needed. A filter of caffeine to wash away the ordeal like it was a bad morning plaguing him with baggy under-eyes and fatigue from a previous day of hard work. Though he’s sure not even caffeine could erase the headaches he developed throughout his day so far. If anything, indulgence would just make those headaches worse.

Nonetheless, he welcomed the smooth blend of flavors that ebbed down his throat through modest sips, rejuvenation quickly oozing in his veins. Headaches or not, the stimulation from the caffeine was essential if he wanted to combat the rest of the day with some drive.

“Thanks, Midoriya. I needed that,” Shouto acknowledged. He nodded at his assistant, who rubbed the back of his head modestly, saying how it was no problem at all, but the way his boss suddenly got up from his seat interrupted his words.

Shouto already felt the strong coffee going to work as his steps picked up in long strides around his desk that had the assistant’s brows knitting together, confused. “Where are you going, sir?” Midoriya asked, his voice sounding more distant to Shouto, who continued his way past him and toward the door.

“A quick drive,” was the blatant answer he gave. He downed the last of the cup before tossing it in the trash bin near the exit of his office. “Something to clear my head a bit. I’ll be back soon, but until then, keep reaching out to any businesses that could potentially be available to help us.”

“Yes, of course, sir! You can count on me!” Midoriya was prompt in replying. As expected, being Shouto’s right-hand man at the company.

With that, Shouto took to the parking lot below his building, twirling his keys over his index finger before hopping into his Mercedes and driving off.

The withering sunlight cast its glare over his car during his ride through the city. By now, the skies splayed vibrant red as the sun gandered above the horizon. He drove down the narrow and busy streets that kept the place bustling at these hours. It was likely the time when people finished up their workday and were eager to arrive home for much-needed rest.

During a particularly long wait at a red traffic light, he pondered over his predicament again. His thumb rapped against the steering wheel while he bit his bottom lip, that ugly feeling of regret seeping into his thoughts.

Maybe he placed too much faith in these flowers after all. Sure, he mentioned the vital role they played in aligning with the theme and complimenting the guests’ attires. But was it worth all the trouble he put his team through, searching through a throng of businesses already busy with their own events to organize? In a way, this could’ve been sorted out had he recognized the current times and planned accordingly to avoid the mess. But now they were trapped in this bind, crunching for anyone that could help them within only fourteen short days.

Just as he weighed the idea of calling Midoriya over the bluetooth in his car to drop the floral arrangements altogether, something caught his eye at the last second.

Shouto peered through his window, squinting at the corner, where he spotted a cart of flowers in front of a shop of some sort. His grip tightened around the leather of his steering wheel as he leaned in for a better look. Some kind of spark in him roused his anticipation the more he shifted forward in his seat, like the hope that was slowly fading inside was igniting once again.

Another inch further and he attained a better look of the shop. Its sign came into view just below the small boundary of his window—letters brushed in calligraphy on a long board of canvas with lilies painted on the edges that seamed together into a bouquet.

N… Neigh… Neighborhood Lily.

He deciphered the words, but didn’t give them much thought. All that enveloped his mind afterward was the fact the name wasn’t any of the list of thirty shops he phoned today. So the very moment the light overhead flickered to green, Shouto’s hold on the wheel tightened. His foot gradually stepped on the pedal with much more purpose.

He decided to take a brief detour from this casual little drive of his.

It was about six o’clock when you waved off your latest customer, who was leaving the shop with a basket of vibrant tulips swinging on their arm. The smile on their face was an adamant indication they were more than happy with their time here, something you always delighted in, being very passionate about your job as a florist.

“Thank you, and please come again!” The bell overhead gave a gracious chime at the customer’s departure.

With them gone, you drew your attention back to the flowers laid out on the small wooden table in the corner of the shop. Before the customer came in, you were at work arranging and crafting the blossoms you purchased from the flower market that morning into bouquets.

You’d be closing in about an hour and thirty minutes or so, but for now, you basked in the silence and the calming aroma of the flowers that surrounded you while you continued your work. A modest hum naturally sang past your lips and soothed its way into the shop that was devoid of all souls except yourself.

“Hm, you’re a pretty thing, aren’t you?” You made some small talk with the rose in your hand. It was a habit of yours to spill a few words out within your own little world, imagining the flowers were keeping you company whenever you were alone.

“And there, now you all look even prettier.” An adoring smile embellished your lips as you finished off another bouquet by tying it with a silk ribbon. Looking over the bundle one more time, you thoroughly admired the shades of pinks and reds that complimented each other in the ensemble.

Then two more bouquets down, and you already made a good amount of progress. You figured that if you kept up the pace, you’d likely finish the rest of the batch and have them ready for display tomorrow. But just as you clasped three more flowers in your hand, the bell atop the door chimed, alerting you to a new patron.

You nicked off a thorn from one of the stems before turning around and giving your attention to the visitor. When your eyes found their way to the shop’s entrance, you were surprised to meet a man of slicked white and red hair. The few strands that found their way out of the gel must have been tussled from a long day of work considering the fatigue plain on his handsome face.

Despite the few wrinkles here and there, his attire was still surprisingly pristine. He wore a simple yet compelling suit, the fit seeming tailored to the contours of his body that rendered you a tad speechless at how good he looked just standing there. The sight almost made you feel underdressed.

You hadn’t realized you were staring for longer than you deemed appropriate. You couldn’t help it, being that the stranger was a stark contrast to the regular customers you were used to. The fanciest you’ve encountered since you opened your shop were the young boys that rushed in with nicely fitted tops and jeans, frantically inquiring about what kinds of flowers were right to give to a girl for a date they had later that day. Not anything like attractive businessmen in immaculate suits and shining silver wristwatches that surely cost more than all the flowers you tended here.

Noticing you were gawking, you blinked thrice to knock yourself out of your trance and properly greet the man.

“H-Hello, welcome to Neighborhood Lily,” you said, mustering the politest tone you could give to make up for the awkward moment of wordless eye contact. You must have kept your eyes on him for what felt like a good five minutes at least. The man, in turn, acknowledged you with a small grin, much to your relief.

“How may I help you this evening?”

“I’m…” he hesitated, seeming wary of how he wanted to go about his next choice of words, “just looking for now,” he decided.

Not paying much mind to his hesitation, you nodded. “Oh, well, if you have any questions or need any help on anything, please let me know. I’ll just be around the corner!”

Allowing him to go about his business, you returned to your table of flowers and oversaw the blossoms again. However, it was difficult for you to busy yourself with the task at hand. The mere thought of the other presence in the shop was enough to hammer you out of your concentration.

He was already a compelling figure on his own, what with his good-looks accompanied by his classy ensemble that felt more than out of place here. But what you were especially curious about was what business he had at a humble flower shop like yours during this hour.

That curiosity led your eyes straying to the side, where you peeped the man walking through the small aisle of flowers. He examined the bouquets and vases on display, even showing interest in the more decorative pieces hung in pots from the ceiling.

You tried to determine what his motives were. He was showing some considerable intrigue at your arrangements, though perhaps it was pure admiration for your work, and you were letting your self-consciousness get to you.

Well, spying would just get you nowhere, you thought. One way or another, he’d answer your curiosity by either coming to you directly or leave the shop altogether. You had to admit you hoped more for the former.

Until then, you tore your gaze away and resumed gathering flowers in your hands. You assessed their compatibility with one another while you fiddled around with their placement in the bouquet. The white lilies and the blue lilacs went very well, along with another set of light violet lilacs you couldn’t help but string into the bundle. As a result, the beautiful balance of cool tones made for an exceptional well-made bouquet. You finished the piece with a matching white satin ribbon and then let the arranged flowers thrive inside a glass vase.

“Those are very pretty.”

Startled at the voice, you whipped your head around, hands braced behind you against the edge of the wooden table. Your untimely lack of words were a result from realizing the owner of the voice was closer than you anticipated.

The businessman went from lingering around the aisle of flowers in the middle of the shop, to appearing in your proximity.

“E-Excuse me?” you asked, wondering if you heard correctly to which he pointed at the bouquets laid finished on the table. “In fact, all the flowers here are exceptionally beautiful.” He gestured to the entirety of the shop. His eyes quickly roamed across all the decorative flourishes before they came back to you.

“You do excellent work here in your shop.”

Words coming from a man like him made you bashful. You subconsciously played with the hem of your apron, eyes drifting to anywhere but his face at the compliment. However, the sliver of heat fluttering to your cheeks didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Oh, um, thank you. It’s nothing really, I’ve been arranging flowers for quite some time while at the last floristry I worked for so I have a fair amount of experience.”

After another second of fiddling with the fabric, your hands ended up falling to your sides. You sauntered toward one of the flower vases that were already set on display, dawdling around the conversation. His eyes followed you, watching you nurture the blossoms. “I opened this flower shop of mine just recently actually. Been getting a decent amount of business here and there, but I’m just glad that the people who’ve visited so far like my work,” you told him, twirling a strand of your hair. The pads of your other hand brushed against the soft, abundant petals of a yellow chrysanthemum.

The man observed your actions, analyzing your face. He distinguished the devotion hidden in your eyes as you looked upon the flower with a luster. Despite your humble character, it was more than clear to him you were very passionate about what you did, relishing in the ambiance and admiring the modest appearance of this little shop of yours, covered in the wonderful aroma of flowers.

You didn’t detect that deep breath of air he earnestly drew in as he stepped closer. So close that his proximity broke your stupor to meet his rigid expression.

“How would you feel about an… opportunity to let more of your work be known?”

“An opportunity?” you echoed. “Wait… do you maybe have a wed—”

“No,” he interjected, so abruptly that you couldn’t help but quirk a brow. Catching himself, he took a moment to clear his throat, mindful of his behavior. “I mean, it’s not a wedding. Rather, a charity gala that my company has been planning for some time.”

“A gala?” Your mouth worked faster than your mind, accidentally blurting out your thoughts. The astonishment was evident in your tone; it made the man question your reaction by leaning in.

“Yes, a gala,” he said again like you didn’t just hear his words from a foot away, without even realizing the lengths behind his baffling offer. “Is there something wrong about that?”

“N-No. It just wasn’t the kind of opportunity I expected it to be is all… A gala…” Your voice hushed around the utter of “gala”.

What the man presented so blatantly was unexpected to your ears. Galas meant a pompous party full of people decked in lavish attires, drinking quality champagne from tulip glasses. Sizing up the man again, you could only imagine this gala would only include the most important and wealthiest people in attendance.

You had to ask something, “Um, about this gala... How many people will be there?”

“Maybe about... five hundred or so? I’ll have to check in with my assistant to confirm the full count again.” He shrugged nonchalantly and yet on your end, hearing the number almost reduced your head to a dizzy mess.

Five hundred guests? It was a number you couldn’t fathom. You hadn’t even been booked for an occasion as ordinary as a baby shower, but this man wanted you to arrange flowers for his big charity gala?

As oddly enticing of a job it was to you, there had to be anyone else more experienced and capable for this.

“Sir, I’m not su—”

“The pay, of course, will be more than generous, and I’ll even provide you funding for any necessary materials for this project,” he chimed in before you could voice your protest. It was then that you began to distinguish something laced in his voice and exhibited on his face.

Desperation.

This man seemed desperate for some reason.

“May I ask when the event will take place?” Your arms crossed against your chest. A gulp formed in his throat at the question, unsure if he wanted to unveil the news or risk scaring you off. Either way, if you were working for him, you’d learn eventually. A sigh came out.

“Two weeks,” he answered.

Oh yeah, that explained it. It also answered any questions you had over the tension rigid in his shoulders. At this point, you were bound to join him in his stress because, goddamn, organizing a whole assembly of flowers for a grand ball within fourteen days? The idea was beyond daunting.

While you reflected on the intimidating pieces of information, he was gauging your reaction. Would you say yes? No? Laugh at the idea that he thought he could find a florist to work for him at such late notice? There were a slew of uncertainties twisting in his head—an act unbecoming of him, but you were his last hope. Whatever you responded with next would either be the nail in his coffin or the wings that made him soar.

You would be treading on uncharted waters at a chance like this, having never sailed anywhere beyond your little island of floristry where people came and went with your humble little arrangements. But you also thought of this as a daring opportunity to find new land. See what the world had in store for you outside of selling the general bouquets and vases you had on display. Plus, when would a chance like this ever come up again?

Though it meant encountering difficulties along the way, taking on such a big challenge right off the bat, you figured you’d be able to keep your boat afloat. You were also sure the journey toward bigger regions would be worth the struggle in the end.

“So do you have your answer?” he pressed forward when your silence became unbearable to his nerves. He thanked the fact that his voice managed to sound steady enough not to give himself away. Your arms remained crossed in front of you, your hand coming beneath your chin the only sign that you were taking his offer to heart. It kept the flickering flames of hope blazing inside him.

“I just want to ask you something,” you replied. He nodded, allowing you to continue.

“I know you’re under pressure with this gala coming up in only two weeks,” you began. Your arms unraveled, and your fingers ran to your apron again. You formed the next bit of words with uncertainty, “but are you sure I’m the right person for this job? I mean, I don’t have much to offer you in terms of skill other than what I have here.” You nudged at the range of your shop, plain as can be though with a generous amount of flourishes on display. Yet nothing you thought special enough to be graced by him and his grand proposal that evening.

“I just don’t want you to regret your decision.”

There was a pause of silence after that. The man seemed to give your words some thought—a quick reflection on the situation. You couldn’t decipher much in his face, but you happened to take some time to admire how pretty his eyes were. The individual blue and gray shades were mesmerizing to you, resembling glaciers glittering beneath the moon high in the north. Another detail you jotted in his long list of attractive features. Before you could marvel at them any further, he whisked your thoughts back to earth with his response.

“It’s true that I’m coming to you because I’m in need,” he admitted, hands slowly closing into fists like he was reluctant to confess this, “but from what I can see, I genuinely think you’re more than capable for this job. So yes, I’m very sure I won’t regret this decision.”

It was clear to you that he was sure on his stance. But to reinforce his statement, he bent his head low into a bow, weight added to his next words.

“Please be the florist for our gala.”

The gesture briefly overwhelmed you, not something you were expecting, but you managed to acknowledge it by returning the bow.

“I’ll be in your care then.”

With all things said, you were soon tidying up the exchange and trading business cards. Yours was a standard card with your number, name, and business attached with a picture of a lily printed across the paper. His, a premium slip of stainless steel engraved with his information and then some, the fancy card reflecting off the lights hanging from the ceiling. You read the name etched in ebony black over the gray material.

Todoroki Shouto — CEO

“You’ll likely receive a call from either one of my assistants or me within the next day or so about when to meet up to plan for the arrangements.” Shouto’s voice brought your head up from the card, where you watched him glide toward the door.

“R-Right, I’ll leave my cell on,” you stuttered. The fact that this whole exchange had just transpired was still kicking in for you.

Shouto nodded, extending a wave out that you mirrored while he opened the door to the shop, the bell chiming above him.

“I’ll see you then.”

After that, the resonating tinkles of the bell were the last you heard.

You stared at the entrance aimlessly, mouth gradually gaping open at the mere prospect that you were really about to arrange your flowers for a grand charity gala in two weeks!

A mixture of elation and jitters erupted in your body all at once, uncontained as you whipped your head around and strode across your shop in giddy steps. Your eyes lit up at the steel card gripped between your fingers, clenched so tightly like you were worried the card would turn to dust when you woke up from this dream. But at the wide smile that bloomed on your lips, you knew that this was reality. This man, Todoroki Shouto, was giving you the opportunity to have your true potential shown at this big gala.

Meanwhile, on his way back to his Mercedes, Shouto was clicking open his phone. The screen beamed at him in the low light of the evening turning to night while he punched a number from his contacts list. It took only the cusp of the second ring for the person on the other line to pick up his call.

“Midoriya, call off the search,” Shouto commanded into his phone. He rested his back on the door of his car, leaning against it with his phone still attached to his ear. His gaze found its way back to the flower shop he had just departed, eyeing the light emitting from the windows to the sign hanging above them. Grinning, he took in the sight of the flowers dancing in the wind around the shop’s vicinity before finding your silhouette standing in the benevolent light inside.

“We have our florist.”

#bnha x reader #todoroki x reader #bnha imagine #todoroki shouto x reader #mha x reader #bnha fic #todoroki fic #todoroki imagine

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snowdice · 3 years ago

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Big Bang (Sort of) Editing Story [Day 92]

I started writing this fic while editing my Big Bang story, but am going to continue doing it for other things now that Kill Dear is out. I will write and publish 100 words of the story every time I finish doing whatever task I’m doing. If you’d like to block these proceedings, please feel free to block the tag proofread stories. I will reblog this post with the parts of the story I do today. Edited chapters are linked; everything else I’ve done so far is under the cut.

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 37 Part 38 Part 39 Part 40

Not sure how long I’ll work, but let’s see. :)

Chapter 41 Arc III: Bonding with the King (Virgil)

Virgil, despite cautiously believing the king’s words, was still half surprised when he wasn’t immediately thrown into the dungeon upon leaving the safety of the walls with the man. He didn’t even call the guards. Instead, he just calmly led Virgil down a set of stairs with a warm, not restraining, hand on his shoulder.

Virgil didn’t know what to think. He didn’t understand how he could not be in trouble for smacking the prince, but he was also cold, tired, and hungry from his days spent in the castle walls. He’d once been used to being all of those things, but now after only living in the castle for a little over a month, they stung a little harder. He even found himself leaning into the kings hand a bit, having missed hugs from Patton and Logan in the last few days.

He’d memorized enough about the castle layout to know they were going in the direction of the kitchen. He also knew that it was midafternoon between lunch and supper being served. There weren’t many people in their path except for the guards and they didn’t even give him a second glance.

The king took Virgil through the same side entrance Patton and Logan often used instead of through the dining hall. Patton’s mom’s office door was closed and instead of going all the way to the kitchen, the king paused to knock on it.

“Helen,” the king called through the door. “Would you mind coming out here please?”

“Just a moment,” was called back through the door and after just a few seconds the door was opening. Her eyes landed on him, and she immediately looked relieved. “Virgil,” she said. “Goodness where have you been? Patton’s been worried sick.”

Virgil bit his lip, unsure what to say to that. He’d assumed Patton would be mad at him too when he learned Virgil had hit Logan, but then again, according to the king not even Logan was mad.

“Would you mind making something for him to eat?” the king asked.

Her eyes snapped to him. “Oh, yes, of course. Virgil, sweetie, what do you want?”

Virgil just shrugged.

“Ham sandwich for now,” she said studying him, “and then I’ll make something more for dinner. Let me go grab your meal preference cards.” She stepped back into her office and grabbed the little box off of her desk full of the cards she always sent with any new food she served Virgil, so he could rank them.

Virgil watched, confused. He never did quite understand Helen with her endless willingness to feed him and to get his opinion about what she fed him with. She always reminded him of Patton with how kind she often was, though she was a little stricter than Patton ever had the heart to be.

There was no sternness to her now, however. She was fussing over him as she led them to the kitchen and started warming water for tea before grabbing the ingredients needed for the promised ham sandwich.

She made him clean his hands of the dirt and dust they’d acquired from days crawling through secret passageways before handing him the sandwich. Thomas at one point stepped out of the kitchen for a few moments but was back quickly with a smile. Virgil smiled back at him hesitantly. He was still surprised he was in the kitchen drinking warm tea and eating a sandwich as the head chef personally fretted over him.

The king also accepted a mug of tea and didn’t even watch over it closely despite Virgil sitting right there in poisoning distance. Instead of looking worried or angry when he noticed Virgil staring at him and his mug, he simply smiled softly and ask him if he needed more tea.

This man… was an idiot.

Virgil had thought that Logan wasn’t careful about his own personal safety, but apparently Logan had actually improved upon his family’s habit of being reckless. Virgil would have to complement him and provide him with more opportunities for growth if he was that willing to grow and adapt.

…If Logan didn’t hate him now.

Thomas said he wasn’t mad, but he could be lying or wrong. Virgil had hit Logan. Virgil knew he’d never been fond of the people who’d hit him. Of course, in this case, Virgil hadn’t meant to do it, but he still had. Even if Logan wasn’t actively mad, there was the possibility that he wouldn’t like Virgil anymore. That was almost worse because people who were mad might eventually calm down and forgive you, but if someone just decides emotionlessly that they don’t like you anymore, that’s a lot harder to reverse.

Logan had always been nice to him despite being a prince who didn’t need to give him the time of day and despite knowing why Virgil had come here. Logan was his friend. He didn’t want to lose that.

He finished off the ham sandwich pretty quickly and Patton’s mom almost immediately set down a plate of cheese and crackers.

“Thank you,” Virgil said softly.

“Of course,” Ms. Heart said, and Virgil jumped a bit in surprise when a hand touched his head, but calmed down after just a moment. It wasn’t that different than Patton, though he wasn’t that used to adults touching him. At least not gently or at all in the castle. “I’m glad you’re okay.” The hand stayed in his hair for only a second longer before pulling away. “Hmm,” she said. “Have you been living in the walls perchance?”

Virgil nodded at her.

“Ah,” she said, wiping off her hand on her apron. “Perhaps a bath would be in order after you finish eating.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied.

“More tea?”

He nodded again and she moved to take his mug over to the kettle. He turned to pop one of the crackers with cheese into his mouth and was still chewing when the nearest door suddenly sprung open.

He flinched, looking up to see Logan in the doorway, breathing like he’d run all the way from the other side of the castle. “Virgil,” he said sounding relieved. He’d crossed the room before Virgil had a chance to get anxious and was wrapping him up in a hug before he could do more than lightly flinch in surprise. “Thank goodness you’re okay. Where have you been?”

“In the walls,” Virgil replied.

Logan rubbed a circle into his back and hugged him harder. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Virgil jerked in surprise. “Why are you sorry?”

“I made you run away,” he said. “You were scared of me.”

“I hit you,” Virgil pointed out confused.

“It was an accident. You were having a bad day and I touched you without permission. It was my fault.”

“I…” Virgil said, “but…”

“I’m not going to be angry when it was just an accident, Virgil,” Logan said.

Virgil didn’t know what to say. He tucked his head against Logan’s shoulder and sniffled a bit. “Sorry anyway,” he said.

“It’s okay,” Logan said. Virgil felt a kiss being pressed to the top of his head. “Patton and I were really worried.”

“Oh,” he said. Tears started to leak from his eyes as he sniffled more. Logan just held him even tighter to the point it was starting to restrict breathing, but Virgil didn’t want him to let go. “Sorry,” he said again.

“Hush,” was the gentle response. The hug continued for a long few moments before Logan pulled back to look at him. “You are very dirty,” he commented.

“You’re a bit dirty now too,” Ms. Heart pointed out with a chuckle. Logan glanced down at his front. You could see an outline of Virgil’s body on his clothes.

“Ah,” he said. “It seems I am.” He seemed amused though, and honestly if he wasn’t going to be mad at Virgil for slapping him and then running away and hiding for days, he probably wasn’t going to be mad about that.

The king and Patton’s mom also didn’t seem unhappy with him getting the prince messy when he glanced at them. Ms. Heart seemed entertained, and the king was just smiling.

Virgil felt himself calming down more than he had in days, assured that Logan didn’t hate him and tentatively trusting that neither of the adults planned to lash out at him anytime soon. Ms. Heart handed him his refilled mug of tea and pointed him back at the food. Virgil relaxed fully into his chair.

Until, of course, the door blasted back open, word having gotten to Patton who proceeded to strangle him with a hug and cry at him loudly, but that was okay too.

Chapter 42 (Patton)

“Come on,” Patton urged. “You’re already all dressed up.”

Virgil made a dissatisfied noise like a cat that had just been picked up from its spot on a heated blanket.

“We’ll barely be outside five minutes,” Patton said. “You won’t even notice the cold.”

“Will so,” Virgil argued back.

Virgil’s return to the castle proper had been relieving. Everyone had been content to let him curl up on the floor near the fireplace and sleep for the past couple of weeks, but life did move on, and Patton and Logan had talked. They had agreed that Virgil’s constant anxiety about the weather probably wasn’t good for him. It had played a major part in making him stressed out enough to hit Logan which had caused the entire mess with him disappearing.

They’d brought it up to Virgil gently and, while they’d had to dial it back on requests like actually playing in the snow, the suggestion that they take the short trip from the castle to the horse stables was met with some interest. However, now that the time had come to make the trek, he seemed to be having doubts.

“Honestly,” Logan said. “I don’t think you’ll even feel the cold in that get up.”

They had, indeed covered the boy from head to toe. He currently looked a couple of inches taller and wider than he actually was bundled up with every piece of extra snow gear they could find.

He looked adorable with only his eyes uncovered even if said eyes were glaring at them both. However, Patton was a little worried he’d overheat if they didn’t leave soon.

“I don’t like snow,” Virgil said.

“We know, Virgil,” Logan said. That was the problem. They were hoping that a little minimal exposure would help him calm down just a bit. “The path’s been cleared of snow and ice though and it isn’t that much of a walk. You’ll be fine and then we’ll be able to look at all of the horses.”

Virgil still looked unconvinced.

“Just half an hour, Virgil, please,” Logan said.

“…Fine,” Virgil relented.

“Great,” said Patton, grabbing his coat sleeve and tugging him towards the door. Logan followed behind and Princess Marisol seeing they were going somewhere, got up and padded after them.

They made it all the way to the door nearest the stable. Patton could see when he opened it that the path they were to take was well cleared. Virgil still did not appear enthused. He glared at the outside like it had a knife.

Princess Marisol, for her part, saw Patton open the door, hissed, and abandoned them to strut off towards the kitchen.

“She knows what she’s talking about,” mumbled Virgil.

Patton sighed.

“Come on Virgil, I promise it won’t be that bad.” Patton offered a gloved hand. “You can hold my hand the whole way.”

Virgil was still frowning up a storm that would rival the one that had caused the snow in the first place, but he did take Patton’s hand. Patton used his grip on the hand to pull him forward through the door. It was still very chilly, Patton thought as they walked outside. Patton had chosen a coat that was a bit lighter since they were only walking to the stable and the wind bit him through it. He really hoped Virgil’s outfit was warm enough to keep him from freaking out.

Luckily, it did seem to be keeping him warm enough because, while he was tense, he still let Patton lead him forward.

They made it to the stable faster than usual since all three of them were quickening their pace. Patton gave a sigh of relief when he entered the stable and the warmer air inside of it. The stable wasn’t as warm as the castle, but it was warm enough that most of the stable hands only worked in light coats most of the winter. At least, they did inside the stable.

The head stable hand had already been warned about their visit beforehand and was waiting for the three of them at the door. “Good morning,” she greeted them, and… Virgil was already hiding himself behind Patton’s back.

“Hi!” Patton said cheerfully. He stepped to the side, so Virgil was no longer hidden. Virgil glared, reaching out to grab the edge of Patton’s sleeve and tugging on it in discontent. “This is Loraine, Virgil,” Patton said, nodding at her. When he glanced her way, he became a lot shyer, looking down at her feet instead of at her face. “She takes care of the horses. Say hello.”

“…Hello,” Virgil said quietly.

“Hi,” she said. “I hear you wanted to see the horses.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, we have plenty for you to meet and they’re mostly all inside because of the cold. Usually in the summer most want to spend a lot of time in the pasture. Let me show you around.”

Loraine showed them around the stable a bit even though Patton and Logan already knew where everything was. Virgil slowly got a little bit more comfortable, even asking a couple of questions unprompted. Surprisingly, there weren’t many basic questions about horses like Patton had expected. On the contrary, he seemed to know a good amount about horses already.

“Have you worked with horses before?” Loraine asked a bit into the tour after Virgil expressed interest in what they were feeding some of the older horses.

“I used to help take care of horses sometimes when people came to visit the orphanage,” he said. “They’re nice.”

“Do you ride?” Loraine asked.

Virgil shook his head. “I just fed them and cleaned up after them,” he said.

“Well, maybe you can try to learn when it gets a bit warmer,” she offered. “It’s a lot of fun.”

He nodded. “That would be nice,” he said.

After that, she mostly let them wander around looking at different horses in the stalls. She even let them feed some of the gentler ones who didn’t have a specific diet.

It was about 25 minutes into their adventure and while Virgil obviously liked the horses, Patton could already tell his anxiety was rising every time he took his glove off to feed a horse and it hit the chilly air. Patton glanced at Logan.

“Right,” Logan said. “We should probably be heading back inside, but I would like to stop by and see Mr. Apples before leaving. Otherwise, he will be cross with me.”

“Mr. Apples?” Virgil asked.

“He’s one of the horses,” Logan explained, moving to where the different treats were kept for the horses.

“Why do you need to see him in particular?”

Logan paused, his hand hovering briefly over the container of red apples before reaching in to grab one. “He was my Pa’s horse,” he said. “He likes when I visit him.”

“Logan’s the only one he likes visiting him,” Loraine added as she started to lead them towards where Mr. Apples’ stall was.

Patton had learned long ago that Mr. Apples could be a bit crabby. He wasn’t as mean to Patton as he was to some people, but he wasn’t exactly nice either. Patton tended to keep his distance whenever Logan went to visit.

Now, he stood on the other side of the hall from where Mr. Apples was as Logan stepped forward to greet him.

Logan spoke to him softly for a bit and he nuzzled his face against Logan’s shoulder with a huff. Eventually, he offered a piece of apple which Mr. Apple happily took.

“Can I say hello to him?” Virgil asked.

Logan glanced back at him. “Sure,” he said, “though be careful. He doesn’t like… anyone besides me.”

Virgil nodded and stepped forward cautiously. “Hello,” Virgil said. Mr. Apples turned his head to look at Virgil. There were a couple of seconds of silence and then Mr. Apple’s snorted softly. Virgil took that as permission to stretch out a hand.

“Wait,” Logan said. “He bites actually and…” Mr. Apples pressed his nose to Virgil’s hand softly and Virgil gently stroked it a couple of times.

“Huh,” said Loraine. “You’re officially the third person he’s ever liked, and you could say Prince Logan was cheating since he was grandfathered in as a baby.”

“Really?” Virgil asked. “He seems nice enough.”

Loraine rolled her eyes. Patton noticed she was standing a good distance away from the stall herself. “Oh no,” she said. “Trust me. He’s a bastard to everyone else.”

Virgil just frowned and pet the horse’s nose again. Mr. Apples leaned forward to nibble at his hair a bit.

Logan smiled at him and handed him one of the apple pieces to feed Mr. Apples which Virgil offered to the horse on a flat hand. “Red apples are his favorite,” he told Virgil. “He refuses to eat green.”

Logan and Virgil finished feeding Mr. Apples his treat and then it was time for Virgil to face the cold once again to return to the castle. Patton hoped this positive experience of going outside would make him more open to it in the future.

Chapter 43 (Logan)

Logan woke once again being strangled by an assassin. He sighed and attempted to squirm away. Virgil made an unhappy grumbling noise at the movement and squeezed him tighter. “I am just,” Logan said, shoving at the arm around him, “trying to get into a position where I can breathe.”

Unfortunately, there was no reasoning with an unconscious Virgil. Getting into an upright position was a battle and the boy was laying across his lap by the time he managed it, clutching one of Logan’s arms.

Logan huffed at his sleeping form, reaching over with his free arm to switch on his bedside lamp.

Despite how warm the room was, Logan assumed the temperature outside was extremely cold today. Virgil seemed to have some internal thermostat that seemed to know how cold it was outside even while snug in Logan’s bedroom. The tighter the boy clung in his sleep, the colder Logan knew it must be. Logan looked down at Virgil’s face. He and Patton had wanted to convince Virgil to spend a bit of time outside today, but if it was as cold as Virgil’s behavior indicated, perhaps they should wait for another day.

Logan reached over for the book on his nightstand that he’d learned to keep there for this exact reason. His reading speed had actually increased since Virgil’s arrival at the castle which was impressive. He’d only gotten this book two days before and was worried he’d finish it before Virgil woke this morning.

Luckily, he was incorrect, and Virgil began to stir a bit earlier than he usually did. Logan glanced down from his book when he felt Virgil shift only to find his eyes were open and staring at Logan.

“Good morning,” Logan greeted. Virgil’s fingers squeezed Logan’s arms lightly much like one would expect the cat currently sleeping soundly on Virgil’s pillow to knead its paws into its chosen person.

“Hi,” Virgil said, groggily. “Book?”

“It’s a book about various trade agreements that happened in the last 500 years,” Logan said, knowing what he was asking.

“Interesting?” Virgil asked.

Logan smiled a bit. “You would likely not be particularly interested since you do not already have knowledge of the players nor the politics of trade agreements in general.”

“Oh, okay,” Virgil said with a yawn.

Logan felt fondness warm his chest. “I can read you a different book if you would like,” he offered.

Virgil eyed the book in Logan’s hand. “You’re almost done with that one,” he pointed out. “You can finish it first.”

“You just want an excuse to continue to lay in bed,” Logan accused fondly.

Virgil did not even bother arguing, shifting a bit so he was laying with his head on his own pillow, but curling into Logan’s side. He was calm this morning which was honestly an odd thing. He was rarely truly calm while awake and even in sleep his face was sometimes pinched in tension. Logan and Patton’s plans for exposure therapy to cold weather seemed to help his resting anxiety level a bit, but it was still much higher than it was for normal people. Right now, though, he seemed fully content.

Logan was glad he could feel this comfortable near him, perhaps even comfortable because Logan was near. It was a striking contrast to how he’d been when he’d come here or even how he’d been when he’d accidently slapped Logan. He felt a surge of… something more than the standard sympathy one might feel for someone when he thought of Virgil’s fear and what had transpired to cause it. It was a bit like anger, but not quite. He could not quite put a name to it, but he did know it made him want to make sure nothing bad ever happened to him again. He would ensure nothing bad ever happened to him again no matter what it took.

Logan read for a little while longer. Virgil was still and calm most of the time, but Logan was pretty sure he didn’t go back to sleep. He shifted to look up at Logan when he set the book on the nightstand.

“Would you like to go to the library with me this morning?” Logan asked. “I need a new book and perhaps we could get you something too for your reading lessons. I was thinking we could go to the main library.” He had never taken Virgil there yet as there did tend to be a few more people than the more secluded library Logan favored. Yet, he’d been getting marginally more comfortable in small crowds, and Logan thought he might like to see it.

“Sure,” Virgil agreed easily. “After breakfast though?”

“Of course,” Logan agreed. “We don’t want Ms. Heart to get on us about your eating schedule again.”

Virgil nodded in agreement and climbed out of bed to get dressed. They had a short meal in the dining hall. Virgil was still adamant that Logan did not eat any of the muffins set out on the table, and with Patton still reportedly in bed, Logan did not have nearly enough social prowess on his side to argue with him this morning. Instead, they only ate things straight from the kitchen. Virgil still got a card with his meal which Logan had to fill out for him at the end. As always, he ranked everything on the plate a ‘5/5.’

The library wasn’t too far from the main dining hall. It was in the opposite direction of the way they would go if they were going back to the royal wing past the ballroom and through the entryway. In the summer, they would have gone through the courtyard. In fact, if it had been just Logan, he would have ran across the open area quickly despite not having a coat, but with Virgil in tow, he chose to walk all the way around. Though honestly, since it was Virgil’s first time entering the library, it would be more impressive entering it from its main entrance than from the side one that castle residents in a hurry would use.

He looked over at Virgil as he pushed open the library doors to see his reaction. Virgil’s eyes widened a bit as he saw the huge room with the many bookshelves.

“It’s impressive, isn’t it?” Logan asked with a smile.

“You have two stories of books?” Virgil asked, looking at the spiral staircase that led to the second floor, awed. “I didn’t even… There are more books than I’ve ever seen in my life in this one room.

“And these are just the things available to the general public. There are also record rooms only used by certain people and rooms with restricted book access based on skill, like some magic books.”

“That’s a lot…” Virgil said. What was maybe insecurity flashed through his eyes.

“It’s an overwhelming amount of knowledge, but different people can find what they need,” Logan said, pulling him out of the doorway and towards where they keep the children’s books. “Here, let’s go get books you can try to read yourself and then we’ll find some books you would be interested in that I can read to you.” They stopped at a shelf. “These would be perhaps just a bit beyond your current reading level, but they would be a good challenge, I believe. Pick whichever you like.”

Virgil took a moment to stare at the pictures on the books. He squinted at the titles for a bit longer and asked Logan what a few said before choosing some from the shelf. Two of them were about different crops and one was about a family of foxes.

“Are those three enough?” Logan asked.

“Yeah, I think so,” Virgil replied.

“Do you want to explore the library a bit or just get a book for me to read you and leave?” Logan asked, not wanting to overwhelm him.

“I’d like to look around a bit,” Virgil replied.

“Okay.”

Logan had frequented the main library when he’d been younger. Though he often spent his time now in the smaller library that had been tailored to his specific interests, he still came to the main library fairly frequently. He knew many good places to sit with a book. There were nice window seats that looked out into the courtyard and a corner near a small fireplace. Logan showed him the door that led to the courtyard and where the door to the more restricted books were, though they didn’t go into any of them right now.

Virgil seemed to like the library well enough, following Logan around willingly. Logan did have to pull him away from a few places when he looked a bit too intently at some high, but sturdy bookshelves. And the chandelier.

He did look like he was constantly straddling the line between being in awe of and being overwhelmed by the size of the library, so Logan decided to end the tour after a bit and work on picking out a book.

“What type of book would you like to read?” Logan asked.

Virgil shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “Whatever you think is best is fine. I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“But I’ve chosen every book I’ve read to you so far,” Logan said with a frown. “We should get something tailored to your interests.”

“I don’t have interests, Logan,” Virgil said with an eyeroll.

“You have some interests,” Logan said.

Virgil raised an eyebrow.

“You like climbing,” Logan said, “and… horses. You and Mr. Deknis seem to get along.”

“Are there books about climbing?” Virgil asked.

“There are books about everything,” Logan claimed.

“Bullshit.”

Logan narrowed his eyes. “Careful with that language. Just because Patton isn’t here doesn’t mean you get to be crude.”

Virgil rolled his eyes.

“I will tattle.”

“Fuck,” said Virgil.

Logan shook his head in exasperation but couldn’t help but smile a bit. There was something about Virgil when he felt comfortable enough to be slightly unruly that made Logan happy. It felt like a glimpse of the actual Virgil beneath his usual caution towards the world.

“How about we ask the librarian if there are any books on climbing,” Logan suggested. “Dr. Macey knows where all of the books would be. I can introduce you to them.”

Virgil didn’t look particularly pleased about meeting a new person, but he also didn’t seem overly distressed by the thought, so Logan tugged him along to the librarian’s small office where Logan had seen them disappear a few minutes ago. He knocked on the door.

It swung open a few seconds later and Dr. Macey’s head poked out. “Good morning, Prince Logan,” they said. They glanced at Virgil, “and, Virgil, I would assume.”

“I’ve mentioned you,” Logan said because he saw Virgil immediately start to freak out about a random person knowing his name. Though, honestly, he was sure Dr. Macey had heard about him from other sources as well. He turned back to the librarian. “I was wondering if you could help Virgil pick out a book. He hasn’t gotten many chances to read in his life and isn’t sure what type of thing he’d like. Also, if it could somehow involve climbing to prove a point, that would be appreciated.”

“Climbing, eh?” Dr. Macey asked, thinking for a couple of seconds. “I think I can probably find something.”

Dr. Macey spent a bit of time looking through the shelves. They made small talk with Virgil, and while Virgil seemed a bit guarded (likely because Dr. Macey was asking questions about him trying to figure out more about what type of book he liked), he seemed fairly calm. Logan was pleased to think he liked the library. Maybe when he was a bit better at reading and he’d adjusted more to the size of the room and the concept that other castle residents could come around, he’d want to spend some time down here.

Eventually, Dr. Macey picked out three options and let Virgil choose which one he wanted. There was a fantasy book, an adventure story, and a mystery story.

“All of these have to do with climbing?” Virgil asked skeptically.

“There’s at least one good long climb in each,” Dr. Macey promised with a smile.

Virgil studied the books for a long moment. Eventually, he pointed to one that had the title, “Into the Mist,” which was the fantasy book.

“Good choice,” Dr. Macey said. Logan was certain they would have said that regardless of which Virgil chose, but Virgil still lit up slightly at the praise. The librarian handed the book to Virgil and set the other two aside to reshelve later.

“Thank you, Dr. Macey,” Logan said.

“If you need anything else, let me know,” they said.

“I think that’s it for today,” Logan said. “Let’s go back upstairs Virgil.”

Virgil nodded, clutching his chosen book as they left the library.

Chapter 44 (Thomas)

Loraine had called Thomas down to the stables to talk about a concern that had cropped up about their grain stores. They’d found mold in one of the grain bins which had, of course, soiled everything stored there. Luckily it ended up being one of the smaller grain bins, but it still provided some concern for getting through the winter. As it was, they would be able to make it through, but a lot less comfortably.

Thomas mostly trusted the three who ran the animal husbandry on the castle’s lands to deal with it, but he still provided his opinion when asked.

The meeting had taken a few hours. When he’d come down, the sun had been shining. It had been still cold, but not as freezing the last few days, though he was under no illusion that winter was anywhere near over. A point which was emphasized when he stepped out of Loraine’s office and glanced out of a window only to see what appeared to be a blizzard happening outside.

Great. He wasn’t exactly enthused about walking back to the castle in that. Wanting to delay it as long as possible, he turned away from the window and walked towards the other end of the stable.

He grabbed an apple along the way, intending to feed it to Mr. Apples while convincing himself to make the jaunt back up to the castle. To his surprise, Mr. Apple’s head didn’t pop into the hall upon hearing someone enter his domain (aka the hall outside of his stall). This was odd as Mr. Apples was a territorial bastard who was always sure to be prepared to confront anyone who came within range or eat an apple if the person invading his space happened to be one of the few he wouldn’t attempt to bite on sight. Yet, no white nose popped into sight.

When Thomas approached the stall, he figured out why. There was someone in the stall, but unlike most instances of someone being in a stall with Mr. Apples, the person was not being bitten, spit at, or anything else. Instead, Mr. Apples was standing there calm as day as Virgil ran a brush over his flank.

Thomas stared at them for a moment. He found himself wondering if Mr. Apples had died and someone had replaced him with another white horse so the royal family didn’t get upset like one might replace a child’s dead goldfish if it dies while they’re away.

However, then, Mr. Apples realized he was there. The disdain in his expression upon catching sight of Thomas told him this was no imposter. He apparently by some miracle had just found another person he liked. Which… did pose an issue for Thomas.

Virgil had calmed down around his presence a bit ever since Thomas had found him hiding in the castle, but Thomas wasn’t sure how he would feel about being confronted by Thomas’s presence without warning. In the past, he’d been rather jumpy. If Thomas startled a person Mr. Apples liked in front of Mr. Apples, the tentative peace between Thomas and the horse would surely be over.

He debated simply walking away like Mr. Apples’ expression was insisting, but before he could, Virgil glanced up at him. Thankfully, he didn’t jump. He looked at Thomas for a second, seeming a bit unsure. They hadn’t been alone since he’d stopped being completely terrified of Thomas’s existence after all, but eventually settled on saying, “Uh, hello your majesty.”

“Hello Virgil,” Thomas replied with a small smile. “You can just call me Thomas if you’d like.”

Virgil didn’t seem to know what to say to that, so Thomas dropped it for now.

“Mr. Apples seems to like you,” he said.

“He’s a good horse,” Virgil said, patting Mr. Apples’ side. Mr. Apples sent Thomas a smug look. Well, this… was a very familiar conversation.

Having learned long ago not to bother arguing his case, Thomas just said, “He doesn’t like many people.”

“Logan said that,” Virgil said.

“Where is Logan?” Thomas asked, curious. Usually, Virgil wasn’t too far from him or Patton, but Thomas hadn’t seen a sign of them in the stable.

“He’s studying in his library,” Virgil said, “but I wanted to come to the stable since the weather was slightly nicer.”

“And Patton?”

“He had a meeting with your advisor.”

“Makes sense,” Thomas said. He was glad Virgil was apparently comfortable enough now to go places without one of the other boys. He reluctantly supposed he had Mr. Apples to thank for that. “I brought him and apple. Would you like to feed it to him?”

“Sure,” Virgil said.

Thomas smiled and handed over one of the apple slices over the stall gate to Virgil who fed it to Mr. Apples. Once the horse was finished with that slice, Thomas handed him another.

“Don’t you want to feed it some to him?” Virgil asked.

“He’ll enjoy it much more from you,” Thomas replied.

Virgil frowned, but Mr. Apples threw his head in agreement. Virgil ended up feeding the rest of the apple to the horse.

“Would you like to walk back to the castle with me?” Thomas asked once the horse was busy chowing down on his last slice.

“Sure,” Virgil replied. Thomas smiled at him and helped him put away the brush and other supplies he’d been using on Mr. Apples.

Everything went smoothly until he and Virgil moved to leave the stable. The second that Virgil’s eyes saw the weather conditions outside he paused. Thomas did have to admit that he also wasn’t a fan of what was going on outside. The castle was only a dark blob in the distance when the snow was falling that fast.

Yet, there was something different about Virgil’s expression. It didn’t just seem like reluctance to get cold and wet. Thomas had unfortunately seen Virgil terrified a few times before and it was definitely fear flashing in his eyes right now.

“Are you alright?” Thomas asked softly. Virgil jumped at his voice, but for once Thomas didn’t think he had himself to blame for that.

“I…” Virgil hesitated. “I’m just going to stay here for a while.”

Thomas looked at him and then at the snow outside. “You don’t like the snow, I assume?”

Virgil curled one arm around his waist, gripping the opposite wrist. He shrugged one shoulder. “Bad experience.”

“Oh,” Thomas said, “I see.” The child was looking away from Thomas as well as from the snow outside. His eyes were fixed on a bale of hay. “I guess we’ll just stay out here for a bit.”

Virgil’s eyes shot back to him. “You don’t have to stay,” he said. “It’s fine.”

Thomas shrugged. “I didn’t really want to go out in that anyway.”

Virgil bit his lip. “You’re king,” he said. “You have important things to do. You don’t need to sit out in a horse stable with me because of my issues.”

“You’ll be amazed how much time I’ve spent sitting in a horse stable in my life, king or not,” Thomas said with a rueful smile.

Virgil still seemed unsure. “You don’t have to,” he said. There was no way Thomas was going to leave a child who was afraid of snowstorms for whatever reason alone in a horse stable even if he wouldn’t technically be alone with all of the workers.

“It’s fine,” said Thomas. “I’m sure the stable hands would be willing to share some of the tea in their breakroom with us. We’ll wait for a bit and then see if the storm decides to let up later.”

“If you’re sure,” Virgil said.

“I am,” Thomas said with a smile before leading him towards the staff breakroom and away from the sight of the snow falling outside.

Chapter 45 (Virgil)

The king took him a little room in the center of the stables. There were two people sitting in the room when they entered. They looked up at their entrance, but didn’t spare them a second glance, going back to playing a game with cards. This both made sense because the king should be able to go wherever he wanted without question and didn’t make sense because Virgil had assumed most people working for the castle would jump into asking if the king needed anything when he entered a room.

Instead, the king walked over to a small counter at the side of the room.

If Virgil did not know that he was the king, he probably wouldn’t have been able to tell. He’d dressed to be in a horse stable today. There was no crown or any jewelry really in sight except for a necklace. His clothing was perhaps of better quality than most who worked in a stable would wear every day, but not by a large margin. He could have just been a stable manager or something if Virgil did not know better.

He glanced back at Virgil once he’d grabbed a few clean cups. “What would you like to drink?” he asked.

“I don’t care,” Virgil said.

“Have you tried hot apple cider before?” the king asked.

Virgil shook his head.

“Well, it looks like they have some cider being kept warm here,” he said touching a small barrel that was sitting on the counter. There was a slight glow to the barrel that Virgil recognized as a heating enchantment.

“Sure,” Virgil said. “I like apples.”

The king smiled and turned to pour out a glass of the drink through a spigot on the side of the barrel. He offered it to Virgil. The king was serving Virgil a drink. That was… really weird. He was a weird king.

He took the cup. It was warm from the drink and Virgil felt some of the tension that had been in his shoulders since he’d seen the amount of snow outside release as his fingers warmed up.

“It has more spices than things like apple juice,” the king said. “Mostly cinnamon, but also things like cloves, ginger, and nutmeg.”

Virgil didn’t really know what any of those things tasted like off of the top of his head other than cinnamon and, of course, apples. He took a cautious sip anyway.

“Like it?” the king asked, a smile growing on his face quickly in response to whatever face Virgil was making.

Virgil nodded vigorously.

“Good,” the king said with a chuckle. He turned to get another glass of the apple cider for himself. “Let’s sit,” he said motioning with his head to a couch. It was the only free seating available other than one extra chair at the table where the two stable hands were playing cards.

Virgil did as he said, walking over to the couch and taking a seat. It was an old, but comfortable couch. Most of the things in this room seemed pretty old, though all in good condition. It made sense that they wouldn’t want to have a bunch of new furniture when people were just using it to take a break between cleaning horse stalls.

It was a nice little room all the same and warmer than the rest of the building. The two stable hands had slung their light coats over the backs of their chairs and the king also took his off before sitting. Virgil kept his on.

There were a few hooks where it looked like the workers kept their heavier winter coats for when they left the stable as well as some bags and a couple of paintings.

“That one looks like Mr. Apples,” Virgil pointed out.

The king glanced at the painting. “It is Mr. Apples actually,” he told Virgil.

“He was absolutely impossible to keep still for it. He went back in forth from trying to bite the artist to trying to show off for his owner. I’m pretty sure the artist made his eyes red if you look close enough just to express his displeasure somehow.”

“Logan?” Virgil asked.

“Oh, no,” said the king. “That was when my husband was alive.”

Virgil immediately internally cringed. Externally he said a quick “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” said the king. “He’s not a taboo topic to me.”

Virgil searched his face, but he really didn’t seem mad. There was maybe a bit of sadness around his expression, but he wasn’t angry.

“Logan always seems upset when he mentions him.”

“He’s mentioned him to you?” the king asked, sounding surprised.

“A few times,” Virgil said. “He said the headpiece was his favorite and, when he realized I didn’t like the snow, he tried to convince me it wasn’t all bad by telling me how they used to play in the snow when he was little.

“Logan doesn’t usually talk about him much,” the king said. “He was just a child when he died. It hit him very hard.”

Virgil had noticed that himself.

“It’s good he’s talking about him at least a bit.” The king mused, taking a sip of his drink. “He was the son of a stable hand here.”

“You married a stable hand’s son?” Virgil asked and something about his tone made the king laugh.

“I did,” he confirmed. “We met when we were teenagers about your age. His father had come to work at the castle, and they lived in one of the houses out back. There weren’t many kids in the castle at the time and we both liked the gardens and the orchard, so we ended up friends.”

This knowledge just reaffirmed to Virgil that Logan’s dad was an odd king. From what little Virgil knew of princes, they were not supposed to befriend the children of stable hands they met in the gardens and kings were certainly not supposed to marry them. Then again, Logan was also a prince and he had befriended an assassin he found in his bedroom. In fact, now that he thought about it, Patton was now a royal advisor in training, but even he was just the son of a chef.

Perhaps the royalty of Prijaznia were just like that. He was once again glad he hadn’t managed to kill the king.

He’d been glad for a while now. At first it had been because he’d gotten to know Logan and knew killing his dad would have made him sad. Now, though, he thought it was a good thing he didn’t kill the king because the king didn’t deserve to die from what Virgil had seen. He was nice.

He even got up and got Virgil more of the apple cider when he finished his first cup of it. He continued to sit with him and talk to him about different things like what he, Logan, and Patton had been doing in the past few days.

Eventually, the king went to go check if the weather was any better, leaving Virgil to finish his third glass of cider.

“It’s snowing less hard now,” the king told him when he got back, “but it’s still snowing. It’s also going to start to get dark soon. Do you want to try to go back?”

Virgil didn’t really. He didn’t want to be outside when it was snowing at all, but he also really wanted to be back at the castle before it was night. He’d much prefer to sleep in a bed or even in his closet than somewhere in the stable.

“Yeah, we can try to go back,” Virgil replied.

“Alright,” the king said. He grabbed his coat off of the couch from where he’d set it. Virgil had also taken off his coat eventually, so he grabbed his as well. Once they were both dressed, they walked back to the stable door.

Virgil hesitated when he saw the snow. It was better than it had been earlier, but it still was falling fairly hard. He shifted nervously. That was going to be cold.

At least now he could see the castle clearly, so he didn’t have to worry about getting lost in the snow and dying… probably.

“Here,” said the king. He reached for Virgil slowly and Virgil tensed but allowed it. The king took off the hood Virgil had put up and readjusted the cloth hat under it so it was over his ears before putting the hood back up. He pulled on some strings that Virgil hadn’t realized until right then tightened the hood so it wouldn’t fall off his head in the wind. Then, the king took off the scarf around his own neck and wrapped it twice around Virgil, so it covered his mouth and nose. The only exposed area of his face was now his eyes.

“Now will get the least amount of snow on you as possible,” the king said.

“Thanks,” Virgil said. It came out a little muffled.

He smiled at him. “Do you,” he asked, sounding a bit awkward, “want to hold my hand?”

He didn’t particularly. He’d held hands with Logan and Patton before, but that was different. This was the king. Then again… he looked out at the snow. He really didn’t want to risk getting lost in the snow and he was less likely to get lost in the snow if he was holding on to someone, especially someone who knew his way around the castle grounds very well.

Biting his lip behind the borrowed scarf, he decided he’d already taken way too many liberties when it came to the king. He shook his head no. “No thank you.”

“Alright,” said the king. “Offer is open if you change your mind. Ready to go?”

Virgil nodded, grimacing as he stepped out into the cold, the king at his side. Even with the nice winter coat from Logan and the king’s scarf, it was still noticeably cold. Still, he was not cold enough to justify the icy chill that went down his spine and the way his lungs felt frozen solid causing him to pant trying to take in air. It shouldn’t be this way. He’d been in much colder weather for much longer and with a lot less.

“Are you alright?” the king asked when Virgil couldn’t help but slow down to a stop, shivering.

Virgil looked up at him. Unlike Virgil’s face, he had no scarf to protect him from the weather, but he didn’t seem concerned about that. He seemed much more concerned about Virgil. His reddening face was pinched, and he didn’t look like a man as powerful as a king. He looked like… well, he looked like a concerned father, like Logan’s father.

“Can…” Virgil choked out. He held out his hand.

“Of course,” he said. “Like I said, the offer is open.” He reached forward and wrapped his fingers around Virgil’s. Virgil immediately felt the warmth of them, though it may have been more in his head. There were two pairs of thick gloves between their skin.

Logan’s dad led him by the hand all the way back to the castle.

Chapter 46 (Patton)

Patton hadn’t been aware until Virgil came along what Mr. Deknis did in the winter. Most of his staff had gone home for the winter or had winter tasks to do, but Mr. Deknis and a few choice members of his staff still apparently did a lot despite not being able to plant anything. He frequently invited Virgil to join in on these tasks, and Virgil often accepted. Patton wasn’t sure why he seemed to enjoy things like deep cleaning gardening tools and checking over equipment, but he did, so Patton was glad.

“Alright, that’s enough of that for today,” Mr. Deknis said once Virgil finished brushing off the paste that had been applied to remove rust from a hoe.

“Are you sure?” Virgil asked. “I have more time to work. Even if you need to go, I can still work on something. Unless you don’t want me messing with things without supervision…”

“I’m not telling you to leave, Virgil,” Mr. Deknis said with a half-smile. “I just thought you might want to help me out with something else today.”

“Oh, okay. Sure,” Virgil agreed, sounding just a touch excited.

“Let’s put all of this away,” Mr. Deknis said.

Virgil and Patton helped him put things away, though Patton felt more like a hindrance as both Mr. Deknis and Virgil seemed to know exactly where everything in the room went whereas Patton wasn’t sure about some things.

Patton didn’t always come with Virgil when he was helping out Mr. Deknis. Sometimes Logan would come instead, and Virgil had been coming alone with increasing frequency over the last month or so.

He seemed to like it. He always seemed to look forward to spending time with Mr. Deknis and not only because Mr. Deknis often bribed him with snacks of dried or pickled fruits and vegetables.

Once all of the tools and cleaning equipment were stored away, Mr. Deknis led them down the hall. Mr. Deknis had an entire hall to himself on the first floor of the castle which included his bedroom as well as places to dry and can things.

Where he was leading them to now was a small study next to his bedroom. Patton had never been there before and by the way Virgil was curiously looking around, neither had he. It was a cute little area with a small desk and a bookshelf full of books that seemed to all be on plants.

“I’m starting to think about what I want to grow in the gardens next year,” Mr. Deknis explained as they crammed into the small office. He pointed to a large piece of paper on his desk. “This is the plan at the moment though it’s nowhere near finalized.”

He pointed at a sketched out square on the large paper. “I was thinking I wanted to plant something new here, but I don’t know what. It’s just a small patch between the vegetable and flower garden. It’s sort of by the one three teared fountain. I usually use that patch for newer plants, so it could be a vegetable or a flower. I was thinking you could help me pick out something to put there.”

Virgil looked up at him eyes wide.

Mr. Deknis smiled at him. “Would you like to?”

“I…” Virgil said. “I wouldn’t have any idea what to put.”

“Well, I have a few different books of plants you can flip through,” he said. “Any idea what kind of plant you’d like to grow?”

Virgil shrugged.

“I’ll just give you a few for now,” Mr. Deknis said, selecting three different books. “If you can’t find anything you like, just let me know and I’ll give you another book. There are plenty of different types of things to grow. This is just a start.”

“Thank you,” Virgil said, eyes staring down at the field of flowers drawn on the cover of the book on the top of the stack in his arms.

They spent the afternoon on the floor of Mr. Deknis’ living room. The gardener made them some lavender tea and let them eat some candied walnuts and then retreated to an armchair to read his own book about plants. Patton and Virgil laid on the floor flipping through the different books. Virgil still wasn’t very good at reading, so Patton would read the descriptions of the plants that caught his eye to him. One of the books was about different vegetables and one was about herbs, which of course, did catch Virgil’s attention a bit because of his love for edible things, yet the pictures of flowers seemed to interest him the most.

They ended up eventually looking only in the flower book. A while after that, it became clear that he preferred flowers in the orchid family verses composite flowers because he liked the shape of their petals better. So, then they focused more on looking at the different types of orchids that existed.

“There are a lot more types of orchids than I knew there were,” Patton said.

“It’s the second largest family of flowers,” Mr. Deknis told them from his chair. “There’s a lot of different kinds, over 28,000 species at least. Vanilla comes from an orchid plant. If there are none in that book you especially want, I could get a book specifically on orchids.”

Virgil, having already flipped through the book multiple times looking at the orchids, looked up at him with a bit of excitement in his eyes. “I would like that,” he said. “Yes, please.”

Mr. Deknis’ eyes softened on him and he got to his feet. “I’ll go see what I have in the office.”

“Getting to grow something in the garden is exciting,” Patton said once Mr. Deknis left.

“Yeah,” Virgil replied. “It is.”

It was very nice of Mr. Deknis too, Patton thought. He didn’t have to offer to let Virgil plant something, in fact, him happening to have an empty patch in his plans was probably a little bit of a fib, but it was a nice one.

Virgil liked plants and it would give him something to look forward to over the winter and then something to do in the spring and summer. Honestly, Patton could wait to see him experience the castle in the spring. He’d already loved it in the fall, let alone when things started to grow. Patton had a feeling he’d be spending a lot more time outside this summer.

Mr. Deknis came back with a good sized book filled with pictures of flowers. “Why don’t you take this with you for tonight,” he suggested. “It’s almost dinner time. We can talk about it more when you come to help me again on Saturday.”

“Thank you,” Virgil said, taking the book. “I will see you Saturday then.”

“See you Saturday, Virgil,” he said with a smile.

Chapter 47 (Logan)

Logan and Virgil had gotten into the habit of having reading lessons in the afternoons 3 times a week. They would sit in the small library near the royal wing for an hour or two and do different things. Logan had started with just teaching him letters, but he’d memorized those long ago at this point. Now, Logan would spend most of the time having him read simpler books out loud and correcting any mistakes he made along the way. Improvement was surprisingly fast, though in truth, Logan hadn’t had any measure for how long it would take a teenager to learn to read and Virgil was quite dedicated.

Usually, their lessons ended with Logan reading a more complicated book while letting him follow along. The last week, they had been reading the library book Virgil had chosen for himself, Into the Mist. It was an interesting book to read to Virgil, though Logan was unsure if it would be as interesting if he were to read it on his own. In truth, it was a good, but rather ordinary fantasy book. Virgil, however, seemed incredibly fascinated by it. He had never heard a high fantasy story before in his life and he was constantly comparing and contrasting things in the book to things he understood in real life as well as asking Logan about them.

It also became clear that Virgil did not quite understand real life fully. He attributed the same amount of awe to hearing the ocean being described as he did to the main character’s climb up the sky to a cloud city in hopes of saving his love interest’s life. In fact, he seemed more in awe of Logan’s explanation of the ocean since it actually existed. Logan had a sudden intense urge to plan a trip to see an ocean at some point in the future. Lamir was a costal country and its castle sat on top of a cliff that overlooked the sea.

It would be easy enough to take a trip to their ally’s country at some point.

“So, cloud mites don’t exist?” Virgil confirmed yet again.

“No,” Logan said. “They don’t. In fact, their existence would go against all magical laws since they are sentient without being alive.”

“But crabs do?” Virgil asked.

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Crabs do not go against the natural order of things,” Logan said.

“But why?” Virgil asked.

“I… don’t understand the question.”

“They don’t have the right number of legs.”

“W-what do you mean by that?” Logan asked, confused.

“Animals can only have an even number of legs on either side.”

“No,” Logan said. Virgil nodded vigorously. “What about beetles? Those have 6 legs. Three on each side.”

“But beetles are bug,” Virgil pointed out.

“Bugs are animals,” Logan argued.

“No, they’re not.”

His face was so serious, and he was so sure, that it was funny. “Bugs are animals,” Logan said.

Virgil seemed confused by this. “But they have 6 legs.”

Logan couldn’t help but laughing at that. “Virgil, what do you think and animal is?”

“Well, I don’t know,” Virgil said, pouting slightly at being laughed at. Logan leaned over to bump their shoulder together which seemed to pacify him. “Cows. Birds. Frogs.”

“I think we need to get you a tutor. You are missing some fundamental building blocks in your education.”

He huffed, peering at the book.

“It’s no fault of your own,” Logan assured. “You are not born with information like that. People were just negligent in teaching you these things.”

Virgil nodded. “That actually reminds me of something.”

“Mmm?” Logan asked.

“There’s something I need to teach you.”

“And what would that be?” Logan asked.

“Survival instincts.”

“What?”

Virgil slammed his hand down on Logan’s desk. “You have no survival instincts,” he declared. “I bet you don’t even know what hemlock tastes like.”

“Isn’t that poisonous.”

“Yes,” Virgil said.

“Then of course I don’t know what it tastes like.”

“Exactly! That’s the problem.”

“I don’t need to know what poison tastes like, Virgil,” Logan said.

“Yes, you do,” Virgil argued. “It’s an important skill.”

“I think your view of what constitutes as an ‘important skill may be skewed,” Logan said.

“You’re a prince,” Virgil said. “Knowing about poisons is an important skill for you.”

“It’s really not though.”

“You’re at war,” Virgil reminded, “and they already tried to assassinate your father. Do you think they’re not going to send someone else when your father is alive at winter’s end and they’ve heard no word from their assassin? Do you think if they realize you’re not easily manipulatable, they won’t come for you too?”

“Well, I mean…” Logan said. “You do have a point there.”

“And you need to learn how to climb things and catch things.”

“Why do I need to know how to catch things?”

“We’ve already had this discussion,” Virgil said. “In case someone throws a knife at you.”

Wait. When had they had that conversation?

“And while we’re on the topic of knives, you need to know how to use a knife effectively.”

“I know how to use a knife,” Logan climbed even though he knew he didn’t know how to use a knife in the way Virgil was talking about.

Virgil, despite having no concept of taxonomic classification, was no fool. “Chopping things for potions doesn’t count,” Virgil said. “I’m talking stabbing lessons. For you and Patton, though to be honest, Patton has an advantage already over you when it comes to using weapons.”

“Why does he…” Logan thought. “Because he managed to get a hit on you with a cookie sheet one time?”

“His reflexes are better,” Virgil said, “as well as his ability to use his environment to his advantage. You’re always completely oblivious about what’s going on around you.”

“Excuse me. I am incredibly observant,” said Logan.

“How many chairs are in the dinning room we walked through to get here two hours ago?” Virgil asked.

Logan thought for a moment. “I’m not sure.”

“Exactly! You walk by them every day and you don’t even know how many chairs there are in that room.”

“I have no idea what that has to do with anything.”

“How would you know if someone tampered with the chairs if you don’t know how many of them there are or their positions.”

“Tamper with the chairs?” Logan asked. “What are you talking about? I filter out unnecessary information. That doesn’t mean I’m not observant.”

“Yes, it does,” Virgil said. “Plus, half the time you don’t even know where I am when you know I’m in the same room as you,” Virgil said.

“Well, that’s because you climb on top of things and hide in walls!” Logan said. “That’s hardly fair.”

“You mean I’m quiet and good at hiding like… an assassin might be.”

Logan pursed his lips. Virgil tilted his head and smiled at him. “I am plenty observant,” Logan insisted once again.

“Prove it,” Virgil said.

“And how should I do that?” Logan asked. “Beyond simply memorizing the furniture arrangements?”

Virgil shrugged. “I’m sure you’ll get an opportunity soon.”

Chapter 48 (Thomas)

Thomas was leaving his office when he ran into his son. Or more accurately, his son almost ran into him. “Is everything alright?” Thomas asked.

“I…” Logan said. His hand came out to grasp Thomas’s shirt sleeve, odd behavior for him at least at this age. He used to do such things when he was very small. “Yes,” he said anyway. “Everything is perfectly fine.” He glanced behind himself down the hall.

Thomas looked at him and then looked down the hallway, concerned by his strange behavior. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes,” Logan said, but he wasn’t letting go of Thomas’s shirt.

“You seem a bit anxious, Logan,” Thomas said.

“I am not,” Logan denied, releasing his shirt. Thomas caught a glimpse of something moving above their heads. The hallway Thomas’s office was in had large pillars along the outer wall that really no one should be able to scale despite there technically being grooves in them. Yet, there Virgil clung to the chapiter of one of them. Even more bewildering, he was gripping a pouch of some kind in his teeth.

The met eyes briefly. Virgil tilted his head at Thomas. Then, he removed one hand from the pillar. How was he up there? He made a motion with his hand that seemed to be telling Thomas to step back.

Thomas looked back at his son. Logan hadn’t noticed Virgil, too busy glancing behind him and not looking up. Thomas looked back up at Virgil and took a big step back. The moment he did, Virgil grabbed the bottom of the pouch with his free hand and let go with his teeth. The pouch flipped upside down dropping its contents right onto Logan’s head.

Logan gave a high-pitched shriek that Thomas didn’t think he’d ever heard from him before. “Virgil!” he yelled, now absolutely soaked.

“Learn to look up,” Virgil said seriously, still clinging to the pillar.

“I hate you,” Logan replied.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean in anger,” Thomas reminded. He was a bit worried Virgil may overreact to Logan saying things like that to him, though he seemed perfectly calm at the moment.

Logan scowled at Thomas. “You’re on his side?! He just dumped water on my head!”

“He needs to be trained to be more observant!” Virgil said.

Logan turned his scowl to Virgil. “Come down here, you intolerable creature! I’m done with your so called training!”

“And what would you do if I did come down?” Virgil said arching an eyebrow, wholly unconcerned. “Quote facts about animals at me?”

#proofread stories #not writing

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detectivereyes · 3 years ago

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Even If You Stumble A Step, You’re Still Moving Forward

Summary: TK and Carlos move into their new home post-finale and TK doesn't exactly make the best first impression on their new neighbors...

Notes: this was like a fever dream i had a few months ago and then i stopped writing but decided to revive it last night so... here we are. also title creds (and emotional support creds) to jillian @marjansmarwani because this fic wouldn’t exist without her. and also s/o to brit @moviegeek03 for being extra supportive of yet another fic where [spoiler] tk falls down the stairs again :/

read on ao3

TK shuffles through the maze of boxes stacked several feet high throughout their new home. The scene shouldn’t surprise him considering it was only a few months ago he was moving his own boxes into their old home. However it feels different knowing that most of this stuff isn’t actually theirs.

Well, it is theirs now he figures. But the fact remains that most of the stuff filling the space was either given to them by various members of the extended 126 family, or was recently purchased by TK or Carlos on one of their many trips to Bed Bath and Beyond.

They had taken their time searching for a new place to live. Owen had made it clear that they were both welcome to stay with him (and Mateo) for as long as they needed, but TK had known it was time.

So when a townhome popped up on Zillow that met all their criteria, they wasted no time booking an appointment with the realtor. They both had instantly fallen in love with the open floor plan and deck out back. Plus they knew the extra bedrooms upstairs may come in handy someday.

While they knew the vertical layout of the home itself wasn’t the best, having more stairs than either of them were used to, it checked every other box and was right in their price range so they had wasted no time signing the lease.

A few days had passed since settlement and now most of their days were spent trying to unpack and make this new house into a home. It would never replace the one they had lost, but it had been exciting to build this new home together.

Though on this particular day, TK found himself alone in trying to get settled in since Carlos had a shift. With the 126 still out of commission, possibly forever, and the department not having any openings for paramedics, most of the unpacking was left for TK.

After getting a good chunk of the living room done, he checks the time and decides to go out and see if the mail has come yet. Not that he’s expecting anything with their address still being so new, and not getting much physical mail anyway to begin with. But it still provided a good excuse to take a break.

TK opens the front door and starts to make his way down the set of stairs leading down.

He makes it about halfway before his attention is caught by one of his new next door neighbors, Mr. Martin- if he remembers correctly, exiting at the same time. Mr. Martin gives a friendly wave and TK goes to return the gesture.

Except, he’s not paying attention when he takes the next step, and he misses, his heel just barely hitting the edge of the step before he starts to go down. He tumbles until he comes to a hard stop at the bottom, with most of his weight coming down on his right knee, sending shooting pains up and down his leg.

The rest of his body is sore, and by the time his ears stop ringing, he can just barely make out a new female voice asking “Sir, are you okay?”

He opens his eyes, which he had not even realized he had squeezed shut at some point, to see his neighbor, Mrs. Bailey- his brain supplies, from across the street making her way over to check on him, worried lines painting across her forehead.

“Yes, ma’am. I’m fine,” he grimaces while pushing himself up to a seated position. He tries to hide the blush forming on his cheeks. Not the best way to make a good first impression on his neighbors.

“Are you sure, son? We can call for help if you need it. Someone you know, or 9-1-1?” Mr. Martin joins in the conversation.

“No!” TK interjects too quickly, startling both neighbors. He panics for a moment when the weight of the predicament settles in. He meets the gaze of both figures still staring at him, clearly concerned and waiting for him to say something. “I mean, I’m a paramedic. I’m fine. Or I will be fine. Thank you,” he flashes them both a quick smile before pushing himself up off the ground, ignoring the sharp pains that radiate from his knee when he tries to put any weight on it.

Getting back up the stairs is no easy feat, and he doesn’t have to turn around to know that both Mr. Martin and Mrs. Bailey are still watching him, concerned. Fortunately, they don’t know him well enough to try and follow or help. He’s not sure he would feel comfortable enough receiving help from some strangers. Half the time he doesn’t even feel comfortable receiving help from the people he does know.

He leans heavily on the railing, refusing to turn around out of fear of further mortification. Once he’s inside the home, he collapses right inside the hall, unable to go any further since his knee decided to stop cooperating.

A few tears pool in his eyes, and he’s unsure if that’s due to the pain or embarrassment. Not knowing what else to do, he takes out his phone and shoots a quick text to Carlos.

TK: we have to move

It doesn’t take more than a few seconds for the three dots to pop up before being replaced by Carlos’ response.

Carlos: ???

TK sighs and rubs his face, trying to figure out the best way to explain the situation.

TK: i feel down the stairs out front and all the neighbors saw

Carlos: Holy shit, are you okay??

He lets out a puff of air at that.

TK: you mean besides my bruised ego?

TK: no, i hurt my knee but i’m fine. that’s not the issue here.

Carlos: Okay, I’ll be home in an hour and you can let me be the judge of that. If I see any swelling, we’re going to the doctor.”

He rolls his eyes at Carlos’ worry. At worst, it’s a bad sprain, nothing that can’t be fixed with some icing and wrapping. But there are other things they need to worry about.

TK: you’re missing the point, carlos. the entire neighborhood thinks i’m an idiot. we can’t live here anymore.

TK knows he’s being dramatic, but the more he thinks about it, the more embarrassed he gets. The idea that these are people he’s going to have to continue to face everyday for the foreseeable future. And that now all they’ll be able to think about when they do see him. Now he’ll just be known as the guy who can’t walk down stairs.

Carlos: Relax, TK. I’ll be home soon.

TK: you mean our temporary place of residence which we will soon be moving out of

He doesn’t get a response after that.

His mind continues to spiral while he waits for Carlos to arrive. He knows the other man is likely climbing the walls trying to leave his shift early but it would still be awhile before he could be allowed to leave.

Left alone with his thoughts, his mind keeps playing out the series of events that happened minutes ago. He can't help but beat himself up over embarrassing himself like that. Ironically enough, it’s not even the first time he’s fallen down stairs, having taken a tumble down the stairs in Carlos’ place a few months back. And of course he would manage to injure himself that time, and this time as well.

He should at least try to get up so he can find an ice pack to lessen the swelling. Sitting on the floor up against the wall can’t be doing his knee any favors. Yet he can’t bring himself to move, instead resting his head back against the wall and sighing.

TK pulls out his phone again, cycling through the apps until he hears the tell-tale keys jingling in the already unlocked door.

As soon as Carlos steps through the door, he nearly trips over TK in the doorway. “Woah, hey! TK, are you okay?” he crouches down to TK’s level.

TK shrugs. Now that he’s face to face with Carlos, he can’t help but feel suffocated by another person judging him, even if Carlos’ worry comes from a place of concern.

“Can I take a look at your knee?”

TK nods, allowing Carlos to gently inspect his swollen joint. He winces as Carlos traces his hand around his kneecap.

“This doesn’t look good, babe. I think we need to go to the hospital.”

“No, it’s fine,” he quickly shakes his head. The worried look in Carlos’ eyes only makes his heart ache, and he can only try to find ways to make it go away. “Just help me up and we can ice it. It will look better once the swelling goes down a bit.”

Carlos gives him a look that screams I don’t believe you but sighs. “Fine, but if it doesn’t…”

“I know, I know. You’ll drag my ass to the emergency room,” TK gives him a reassuring smile.

Carlos returns the smile, and extends a hand to help TK up. TK accepts, and allows Carlos to take on most of his weight once he’s standing. They slowly make their way over to the living room, with Carlos softly depositing TK onto the sofa. He then disappears into the kitchen before returning with an ice pack in hand.

“Thanks,” TK smiles, trying to mask the wince as Carlos places the pack onto his knee.

“Do you want to watch an episode of The Office?” Carlos asks, picking up the remote and settling in the spot next to TK.

TK shrugs, knowing that Carlos is just trying to appeal to him by offering to put on his favorite show. The other man doesn’t even like the show that much, often finding the humor dry and tasteless, but TK thinks he just doesn’t get it.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?”

There it is.

“I just can’t believe I did that in front of our new neighbors. They probably think I’m an idiot.”

“I’m sure no one thinks you’re an idiot, TK,” Carlos gently reassures him.

“Yeah all the neighbors saw me make an idiot of myself,” TK sighs exasperatedly. “God, how am I supposed to face these people everyday now?”

“Hate to break it to you babe, but this is not a valid reason for us to move.”

“I know,” he sighs again.

“Besides,” Carlos continues. “If your track record has proven anything, it’s that this won’t be the last medical emergency at our new home. It’s good that the neighbors are getting used to it now.”

TK gives him a pointed look.

“I’m pretty sure this is the second time you’ve fallen down the stairs since we’ve started dating,” Carlos says with a light chuckle.

“Whatever,” TK scoffs. “At least the other time it wasn’t in front of total strangers.”

Carlos softens. “That’s true. But I’m sure the neighbors just care about you. I don’t think this is that big of a deal, TK.”

“You weren’t there though. It was mortifying.”

“What did they say, exactly?”

TK nervously looks down. “They asked if I was okay. And if I needed any help.”

Carlos raises his eyebrow, waiting to see if TK continues.

“They offered to call for help but I said no and went back inside.”

“See? They just care about you TK. I haven’t really talked to anyone yet but they seem like nice people.”

“I guess,” TK shrugs.

“I know, you’re still embarrassed. But if nothing else, they’ll probably forget about it by the next time we see them.”

“You don’t think I’ll be known as the ‘clumsy neighbor who can’t walk down stairs’?”

“Maybe the ‘cute clumsy neighbor that can’t walk down stairs,’” Carlos says with a smirk. “But we could always change that.”

TK cocks his head to the side.

“You think our new neighbors might enjoy some peach scones when we go over and have a proper introduction?”

“You really plan to charm our new neighbors with your baking?”

“You think it will work?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then yes, I do,” Carlos grins proudly. He then leans over and gently removes the ice pack from TK’s knee, grimacing at what he sees. “This still looks pretty swollen, babe. I think we need to go to the hospital.”

TK gives him a pained smile. “You sure I can’t talk my way out of this?”

“Nope,” Carlos says, popping the p. He stands up before extending his hand to help TK do the same.

TK accepts, shifting his weight and leaning into Carlos once he’s fully upright.

“You know, I think you may have a paramedic blindspot when it comes to your own health.”

TK lets out a light laugh. “Yeah, I’ve been told.”

A week later, Carlos softly knocks on the door of Mrs. Bailey’s home across the street with one hand and a plate of peach scones in the other. TK had offered to hold the scones but when they went over to Mr. Martin's home earlier in the day, it was quickly discovered it was too difficult for him to manage getting up the stairs and holding the plate.

So he settles for letting Carlos do most of the work while he awkwardly limps up the stairs, leaning heavily on the railing to keep some pressure off his knee.

After their quick trip to the emergency room, it had been determined that TK’s initial assessment was right and it was just a bad sprain. He was given a brace to help reduce the pain and a pair of crutches, which (much to Carlos’ dismay) he abandoned after only two days, citing that they only made it harder to get around their home which he can now say for certain has too many damn stairs.

A problem which seems to follow him as he also has to get up the stairs to greet his neighbors.

“Maybe we should have moved to a neighborhood of single level homes,” he states with a wince as he joins Carlos at the front door.

Carlos snorts. “We can take it into consideration if we ever have to move again.”

“God, please don’t say that. I don’t want to think about moving ever again.”

“Good,” Carlos gives him a soft smile. “Because I’m planning on staying here for the long run.”

“Me too,” TK returns the smile just as Mrs. Bailey opens the door.

“What a lovely surprise!” she exclaims taking in the sight of the two men.

“Hello ma’am,” Carlos says with a polite smile.

“We brought you some scones,” TK adds, gesturing to the plate in Carlos’ hands.

“Oh how thoughtful of you. Please come in. How are you doing?” she asks, turning to TK. “I’ve been worried.”

He exchanges a look with Carlos, the other man's face clearly saying I told you she cares, before turning back to Mrs. Bailey.

“I’m fine, ma’am. Thank you for asking. It’s just a bad sprain. But I do appreciate your concern, especially the other week.”

“Oh, of course dear,” she says with a warm smile. “Now, you boys aren’t going to make me eat these scones all by myself are you?”

They both let out a light chuckle and exchange another glance before following their new neighbor, and friend inside.

#i've posted too much today #but i need share before i end up deleting it #but actually if it flops i may just delete anyway #whatever at this point #911 lone star #911lonestarfic #tarlosfic #my fic #usersaaya #userbones #reyeslonestartag #pragmaticoptimist34 #tuserpaige

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samanthadalton · 4 years ago

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The Bodyguard (AU) PART 1

pairings: Poppy x Bea

Wanted to write a fic based on this post, thank you @alexlabhont for showing us that tik tok. Going to be a series so i don’t know how many parts. Also this is a slow burn and I’ll add more context as the story progresses so it makes sense (i may steal some names of counties from PB 😅👀)

warnings: mentions of blood, violence and death in this chapter

taglist: @cloud9in @somewillwin @alleycat97 @baexpoppy @save-me-the-last-dance @helpconfusedpersonhere @dopeyouth @alexlabhont @thedaft1 @veenast @cloakanddaggerthings (added people from my usual poppy taglist if you wanna be added or taken off just let me know ☺️☺️)

word count: 5.1k (wasn’t expecting it to be this long)

also i was using my phone to copy and paste from google docs so i apologise if the layout of the fic is weird, it kept cutting off sentences and paragraphs so hopefully they’re actually here and the story makes sense 😅😅

2 weeks earlier

Poppy stands, paralysed with fear, as she watches her assailant point the gun at her. The tears threaten to free fall as her eyes move towards her father’s dying body, blood sprouting from his mouth. He clutches at his chest, his hands and chest painted red as his breaths come out short and harrowing. Poppy balls her hands up into fists, her lip slightly trembling as she watches the aggressor yell, her mind too overwhelmed to articulate the words coming out of his mouth. She watches the evil glint in his eyes as he watches the life drain of her father’s body; how his lips twist into a viscous scowl as he screams at her, the gun in his hand wildly flying around. A deafening gunshot pulls Poppy out of her reverie, her hands moving to grab her body, looking for the wound, but when she hears the assailant’s body hit the floor, seeing the blood oozing out of his mouth, she turns back to see the royal guards pouring into the room. A sigh of relief comes out of her, before realisation hits her and she slides her body over to her father, her hands uselessly hovering over him and the dam of tears break through.

Present

Poppy gasps heavily, her sleep immediately breaking as her body jerks upwards. She brings her hand up to wipe the slick cold sweat that breaks out on her forehead, steadying her excessive pants. Another night where her sleep is broken by the same nightmare, she shudders at the thought of the man who killed her father invading her thoughts, recollecting the way he broke into a malicious grin as she lamented for her father’s life. She lets out a shaky breath as her hands subconsciously grip the blanket, her brain going haywire as she squeezes her eyes shut.

“It’s just a dream,” she whispers to herself, “it’s just a dream.”

Unsure of how much time has passed, she sharply inhales, opening one of her eyes to glance at the window, the sunlight barely peeking through the curtains as she groans throwing her head back onto her pillow, a groan escaping her lips. Just as she feels the sleep about to consume her, her bedroom door flies open, immediately alerting her.

“Why are you still in bed?” Her mother raises an eyebrow, her tone stern, yet lacking any emotion.

Poppy sighs rubbing at the temples of her forehead, agitated “I was hoping to have a few more minutes to myself.”

Her mother dismissively waves her hand at her, “get up. We have business to deal with.” She turns and walks out of the room, leaving Poppy on her own.

After a while Poppy makes her way to the Great Hall, her lady in waiting greets her with a warm smile, “good morning your Royal Highness,” she slightly tilts her head as she bows, her brows slightly creased with worry as she gazes at the eyebags under Poppy’s eyes.

“Goodmorning Taylor,” Poppy scans the room, “where is my mother?”

“Her Majesty requested that you have breakfast in the garden today.”

Poppy hums, “she hasn’t been in the garden since father passed.” Taylor gives Poppy a sorrowful smile, struggling to respond to Poppy’s blunt admission. Poppy waves her hand, “I’ll meet her now.” She walks through the palace until she reaches the garden, she closes her eyes, feeling at peace for a few fleeting moments until it’s broken by her mother’s voice, calling out to her.

“Poppy quit dilly dallying, take a seat we have much to discuss.”

Poppy obediently follows her mother’s orders, carefully sliding into her seat, keeping her posture upright as one of the servants pours her out some tea while she glances expectedly at her mother, “so why all the urgency today?”

“There’s going to be some changes at the castle.”

Poppy raises an eyebrow, “oh? Do tell.”

“There will be an increase in security, we won’t have a breach like last time.” As Poppy gazes at her mother, she sees her face fall for a few moments, grief swimming in her eyes before she quickly masks it, her usual stoic demeanour taking over, making Poppy question whether she actually saw her mother show some emotion. “The Royal Guard are putting in some more extreme measures to ensure our safety here. Speaking of which, I have someone I would like to introduce you to.” She lifts her hands, beckoning someone and when the figure comes into appearance, Poppy can’t help but stare a little.

The woman is young, she looks slightly rough around the edges, but still quite beautiful. Poppy’s gaze darts down to her arms, they’re heavily toned, meaning she’s very strong. She assesses her uniform, her suit looking more polished than her usual guards, and when their eyes meet, her gaze pierces into Poppy’s, momentarily taking her breath away at the sheer intensity.

“This is your new bodyguard.”

Poppy’s face twists into a scowl, “a bodyguard? What am I twelve?” Her eyes dart back to the woman’s, anger boiling inside of her, “and she’s a woman.”

“With all due respect Miss Min Sinclair,” the woman speaks up, her voice smooth as velvet and her tone welcoming, a stark contrast to Poppy’s hostile demeanor. “I’ve had a lot of training. I graduated top of my class and I’m more than qualified to look after you.”

“Look after me? What are you, my babysitter?”

“Poppy!” Her mother calls out, admonishingly, “I apologise for my daughter’s enmity, she’s yet to learn the poise of a princess.”

The woman bows her head, “no need to apologize your Majesty. I understand the situation is overwhelming.”

Her Majesty speaks out, “as for Miss Hughes being a woman,” Poppy feels her heart beating in her chest a little faster, Hughes, it rolls off the tongue easily, “she will be able to guard you at all times, even in situations where you may be compromised. I think it’s only fitting that your bodyguard can keep a close eye on you.”

Poppy opens her mouth to retort but the bodyguard beats her to the punch, “Your Highness if I may?” Poppy gives her a small nod indicating her to continue, “I’m not here to intrude on your life, I’m here to ensure your safety. These people are ruthless, I know you’ve seen first hand what they are capable of. I’m here to make sure you don’t share the same fate as your father.” As she speaks, her voice is steady, strong, lacking in compassion but filled with promise. Poppy watches her with a careful gaze, unsure of what to make of her new companion.

“I don’t have a choice, consequences of being the royal heir I guess.”

Poppy stands and turns her back to walk into the palace but her mother calls out to her, “darling do me a favor and show Miss Hughes her chambers.”

“Am I her maid now?” Poppy retorts through gritted teeth.

“Seeing as she’ll be taking up accommodation in the room adjacent to yours, it's only fitting you show her where to stay. I’m sure she needs to do some preliminary security sweeps.” Her Majesty gives Poppy an authoritarian glare and Poppy sighs before walking off, her bodyguard trailing after her.

Poppy leads her bodyguard into her room, gesturing to the room, “well this is your room, but that’s already obvious. I’ll have one of the maids make up your bed for you.” She turns to the woman, assessing her, “so, do you have a name or do I call you Hughes?”

“Bea. But if you feel comfortable calling me Hughes, I won’t stop you.”

“I’ll feel more comfortable if my mother stopped treating me like a child and keeping me at bay from the rest of the world.”

“Well that’s why I’m here. So you can resume your usual activities but having someone watch over you while you do.” Bea walks out of the room, and goes into Poppy’s room, her eyes darting all over the room, as she begins sweeping the room.

“Excuse you? What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Poppy says, her voice filled with agitation.

“A security sweep. I have to make sure your room isn’t compromised.” Bea continues looking through her room, as she begins opening and closing drawers, her slender fingers feeling around the outside and inside making sure there is nothing suspicious.

“Well unless you’re secretly a pervert, there’s nothing there except my underwear.” Poppy rushes to close the drawer, a blush creeping up on her cheeks. Bea’s eyebrows shoot up but she steps away, her expression blank as she does. “Well. My friends are coming over, try not to get in the way.”

Poppy begins lumbering toward one of her living rooms, and squeals as two girls begin running up to her. Bea protectively stands in front of Poppy, signalling to the girls to stop. Poppy rolls her eyes, pushing Bea slightly to the side, “at ease soldier, they’re not going to kill me.”

“Can’t be too careful.”

Poppy responds with a scowl before turning to her friends, her scowl immediately diminishing. “Ladies, it’s been a while.”

A girl with ombre coloured hair wraps Poppy into a right hug, a solemn expression on her face, “I’m so sorry Poppy, I can’t imagine how hard it’s been for you.”

Poppy’s lip quivers for a few seconds before she bites down on it, slightly sniffling, “thanks Veronica.” Bea watches the interaction with careful eyes, observing the fall in Poppy’s expression as she pulls apart from the hug before being tackled into another one by a blonde girl. “Jesus Chloe, maybe my bodyguard should step in.” Bea steps forward, but Poppy smirks, “chill Hughes, I was kidding.”

“Right.” Bea’s expression remains serious as she watches the girls, but Poppy expectantly glares at her.

“Can we get some privacy?”

Bea nods, walking to the corner of the room, her eyes not leaving Poppy as she crosses her arms, standing guard. Veronica gazes at Bea, her eyes filled with admiration as her roams Bea. “She’s hot.”

Poppy scoffs, “don’t tell me your standards have dropped so low,” Poppy reprimands, taking a seat on one of the chairs.

“Not all of us are surrounded by gorgeous princes and aristocrats,” Veronica teases, “let me thirst in peace.”

“But she’s a bodyguard,” Chloe adds, a tinge of disgust in her tone.

“Classist much Chlo?” Veronica huffs, as her eyes return to gawking at Bea. Poppy sighs, but indulges in polite conversation until her obligations as a princess arise and she says goodbye to her friends before indulging in her chores.

Over the next few weeks, Poppy is still hostile towards Bea, still not fully comfortable with the idea of having a bodyguard. Tensions around the palace are at an all time high, as the number of guards have increased and are always at alert.

“Good morning your Highness.”

Poppy gasps, clutching at her chest, “jesus!” When she glances at Bea she swears she can see a hint of a smile of her face but it’s gone just as quick.

“Your mother is asking for you.”

“Of course she is. Well we shouldn’t let her Majesty wait.” Poppy climbs out of bed, her body still slightly sleep deprived as she stumbles towards the bathroom, Bea watches her with a frown before following her. “Excuse me? Haven’t you ever heard of privacy?”

“How long have you been struggling to sleep for?” Bea’s tone is monotone but her facial expression is worrisome.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Bea sighs, letting her usual icy demeanour drop slightly, “do you remember the old head of security, Marc?”

Poppy nods, “he was always so nice to me.”

“That was my father.” Poppy’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Yeah.” Bea gives Poppy a half smile, “before I took this job, I kinda resented my father, I used to think, how does a man who talks a big deal about the importance of family barely be in our lives? What job was so important that he could barely be at home with us? But I understand it now. I know I haven’t been working at this post long, but I get it.” Bea’s eyes pierce intensely into Poppy’s, forcing the strawberry blonde to let out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding. “My job is to protect you, Miss Min Sinclair, I won’t let anything get in the way of that.”

Poppy’s eyes search Bea’s looking for… something she can’t quite put her finger on, “that’s…. reassuring. Thank you Hughes. And you can call me Poppy, if you’re supposed to be always around me, we can drop the formalities.”

Bea gives Poppy a nod of appreciation, “of course, Poppy.” She gives her a small smile, “well I should let you shower.” Bea turns to leave but Poppy calls out to her.

“Hughes.” Bea stops in her tracks, turning to face her, “why did you take this job?”

Bea looks off into the distance, a pensive look on her face, “curiosity. I wanted to follow my father’s footsteps in terms of training but when your mother offered me the job, I felt compelled to say yes. Just to see how demanding it would be and now I see my father in a whole new light.” Poppy gives Bea a sad smile, “I can’t imagine what it feels like watching your father die in front of you, but give yourself time to grieve. Don’t be like your mom and lock away your feelings, because it will eat you up until it’s too late.” Bea pointedly glances away, training her gaze to the ground, “I’ll wait in the hallway, you should hurry, your mother was adamant about you meeting her as soon as possible.” Before Poppy can thank Bea, she’s already out of the bathroom. Once Poppy has finished getting ready, Bea greets her with a small nod, and Poppy can already feel the shift in their relationship, as she begins to feel more at ease with Bea being around her.

Once they enter the Great Hall, Poppy takes a seat at the table, and her mother greets her with a frown. “I thought that when I urged the significance of this meeting you would come faster.”

Before Poppy can reply, Bea intercepts, “that was my fault Your Majesty, I was going over the security guidelines for the dress store.”

Poppy’s mother turns to face Bea, a glimmer of humor in her eyes, “thank you Miss Hughes, and I told you call me Ana, you’re practically family.” Bea bows her head in gratification, as Ana gestures towards one of the chairs, “why don’t you take a seat and eat some breakfast and I won’t take no for an answer.”

Bea smiles and takes a seat opposite Poppy, before reaching out for some croissants, placing them on her plate before pouring herself some tea, not letting one of the house servants do it. “Thank you.. Ana.”

“Of course, also I’m giving you the day off for the gala next week.”

Bea furrows her brows in confusion, her eyes shooting to look at Poppy, “what about..” she clears her throat as her eyes meet Poppy’s, “security?”

Ana dismissively waves her hand, “I’ve hired the best security and I’ve personally gone over the plans with the Head of security, we’re safe. Bea hesitantly nods, as she pointedly glances away, looking down at her plate.

“Thank you.”

“As for you my dear,” Ana turns to Poppy, her expression emotionless, “this will be our first public appearance since,” she cuts herself off, “it’s imperative we make our guests feel at ease, so make sure you do your rounds and introduce yourself to all of our allies.”

“Yes mother,” Poppy says obediently. “May I be excused, I have an appointment at the dress store.”

“If you must, we will continue this conversation later. Also tell Miss Lombardi that the dress I received was beautiful.”

“Of course Your Majesty.”

Once Poppy reaches the dress store, Bea protectively goes in first and begins looking at the store, earning a confused glance from the owner. “Bodyguard.” Poppy retorts, earning a nod of understanding from the woman. Bea gives Poppy a nod of satisfaction earning an eye roll from the strawberry blonde who makes her way into the back of the store to greet her friends, Veronica and Chloe who look like they’ve been waiting a while based on how comfortably they’re sitting on the couch. Bea does a quick security sweep on the insides of the dressing rooms as the girls indulge in some small talk. Once she’s done, she gives Poppy a satisfied nod.

Veronica says as she pushes herself off the couch to stand, Chloe follows suit a few seconds later. “My mom left your dress in the dressing room.” Poppy smiles and makes her way inside while Bea stands in the corner of the room, patiently waiting as Poppy tries on her dress. The woman from earlier enters, holding some measuring tape and a box of needles, pins and thread in one hand while a few dresses are draped across the other, just as Poppy exits the room, wearing her dress. Bea casts a glance, unable to tear her eyes away from the strawberry blonde.

“Your Highness.” The woman says as she bows, earning a small but unnoticeable eye roll from Veronica. “If you just stand up on this, I can make the final adjustments. Veronica sweetie, take these dresses and you girls try it on while I do the final measurements for Miss Min Sinclair. Veronica grabs the dresses beckoning Chloe to follow her into the dressing room, Poppy stands on the platform, staring at herself in the mirror but she catches Bea’s eyes on her through the mirror, tilting her head with curiosity glistening in her eyes.

“Hughes, what do you think?”

Bea breaks her stoic demeanour as she gives Poppy a panicked look, breaking eye contact, “I don’t think it would be appropriate.”

Poppy sighs, “no need to be such a prude, I’m only asking for your opinion.”

Bea clears her throat, “you look..beautiful.”

Poppy breaks out into a wide grin, her eyes roaming herself, “hmm I do. You did an amazing job Ms Lombardi.”

“Thank you so much Your Highness.” Veronica’s mother replies, a smile on her face.

Veronica’s voice rings out, “I need some help zipping up.”

Veronica’s mother turns back to look at Bea, “if you won’t mind dear, I have my hands full.” She makes a show of displaying the needles and pins in her hands and Bea gives a polite nod before making her way to the dressing room.

“Someone needs help with a zip?”

“Yes.” Veronica opens the door of her dressing room, a small smile on her lips, “hi.” She turns, presenting her back as Bea steps forward to zip her up, placing her hand on the small of Veronica’s back as she begins pulling up the zip. “Poppy told me you’re not working the gala.”

“Yes I’ve gotten the day off,” Bea responds, her tone flat.

“Well do you have any plans for the day?”

“Considering I just found out I have the day off I haven’t made any sudden plans.” Bea steps back, finished with pulling up the zip and Veronica runs her hands down the sides of her dress before turning to face Bea.

“Thank you.” Bea gives Veronica a polite smile, “Be my date to the gala.”

Bea lets out a small laugh, “well aren’t you blunt?” She responds, a hint of a smile of her face.

“Well I didn’t grow up with everything being handed to me, so bluntness is kinda my thing. So will you?” She stares at Bea expectedly.

Bea sighs, slightly scrunching her lips, “I don’t think that would be appropriate. You’re one of Poppy’s closest friends and it wouldn’t be professional of me.”

Veronica raises an eyebrow, unimpressed, “so? Screw unprofessionalism. People like you and me are like at the bottom of the food chain. I love Poppy but at the end of the day, she’s still royalty and will always look down on people like me or my mom. So if you wanna enjoy a party, do it! Don’t let them dictate you like that.”

“Are you done?” Bea replies with a smile. All the while, Poppy steps into the dressing room but steps out of view, watching the interaction, only seeing Bea from the angle she’s standing at, but she feels a small pang in her chest as she watches Bea smile at Veronica, wondering why she’s never seen Bea smile like that at her. “If I say yes will you stop ranting?”

“Maybe,” Veronica retorts, suppressing a smile by pressing her lips together in a thin line.

Bea nods, “okay, I’ll be your date.” Veronica cheers, pulling Bea into a small hug before planting a kiss on her cheek. Bea slightly blushes before pulling away, her icy demeanour returning, “I should get back.”

“Oh of course. To be continued?”

“Yes.” Bea places a chaste kiss on Veronica’s cheek before walking out of the dressing room. Poppy panics as she sees Bea about to turn in her direction and runs back out to the room, pretending as if nothing has happened.

The rest of the day goes by and it’s as if the heart to heart between Poppy and Bea in the morning hasn’t happened as Poppy’s hostile personality returns and she begins pushing Bea away again, infuriating the bodyguard as the strawberry blonde makes her job harder.

….

The day of the gala arrives and Poppy is like a spawn of satan, rushing the servants around, screaming her head off as she barks orders at them. “Your queen has insisted that tonight goes perfectly, do not disappoint otherwise it will be all of our heads on a spike.” She glances around, fixing the decor, or making someone else fix it for her, before getting ready, slipping into her dress. She places a crown on her head, the jewels sparkling under the chandelier lights, as Poppy smooths down her dress, appraising herself in the mirror.

“Guess who?” A pair of hands cover her eyes, as the voice speaks low and playfully into her ear.

Poppy squeals, pulling the hands away from her eyes before turning, “Bradley! You came.” She greets him with a long kiss, before pulling away, wiping her forefinger across his lips, “sorry gif some lipstick on you.”

“That’s okay,” he laughs, as he pulls on the hem of his suit jacket, straightening it. “Shall we?” He holds out his arm as Poppy wraps hers around it, smiling up at him, “you look gorgeous by the way.”

“Thank you, you look dashing.” The couple make their way to the ballroom where the party is already in full swing, “we just need to make some quick introductions.” Poppy gazes around the room, noticing the increase in royal guards standing at their posts, and feels a tinge of satisfaction, no ones dying today, she thinks to herself as her and Bradley, introduce and mingle with the important people.

Simultaneously, Bea opens the door of the limo, before taking out her hand which Veronica gratefully slides her hand into as Bea pulls her out of the car. “You look radiant by the way.”

Veronica blushes, “thank you, and you clean up spectacularly well.”

“Thank you,” Bea says as she runs her hands across her dress. “Shall we?”

“We shall.”

When they enter the ballroom, Veronica offers to grab some drinks as Bea stands, scanning the room looking for anything suspicious. As she does she catches Poppy with her arm wrapped around an unfamiliar man, a wide smile on her face.

“Come in you’re off duty.”

“Sorry,” Bea replies, flushing with embarrassment, “habit.”

“That’s okay,” Veronica hands over one of the glasses to Bea, before taking a careful sip of her drink.

“Who is that with Poppy, I don’t think I’ve been debriefed on him yet.”

Veronica scans the room until her eyes fall on Poppy, “that’s her boyfriend Bradley.”

Bea raises her eyebrows in confusion, “boyfriend? I wasn’t told about this.”

“Well that’s probably because he hasn’t been here for the last few months. He was off building homes in a poor country or something.”

“Huh that’s charitable of him,” Bea replies flatly.

Veronica drains the contents of her glass before intertwining her fingers with Bea’s, “enough about them let’s dance.” Veronica pulls Bea onto the dance floor, and begins grinding on her, while Bea awkwardly stands, unable to apprehend what Veronica is doing. They’re interrupted by a familiar voice.

“So you two are here together?” Poppy’s eyes dart between Bea and Veronica, her tone nonchalant.

“Yes we are,” Veronica wraps her arms around Bea’s neck, pulling her closer. Poppy gives Veronica a weird look. Sensing the tension, Bea slightly pulls out of Veronica’s grasp turning to look at Bradley.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” she holds out a hand which Bradley shakes, his expression warm and inviting.

“Bradley, and you are?”

“My bodyguard,” Poppy interrupts, her tone slightly mocking.

“Bea Hughes.” Bea brings her hand back to her side, a smile on her face, “it was nice meeting you.”

“Same to you,” Bradley gives the girls a small nod before pulling Poppy away, whispering into her ear, “I think we should get out of here, there’s something I wanted to show you.”

“How? This place is heavily guarded.”

“Follow me.” Bradley takes her hand as they slip away from the party, unsuspectingly.

Bea looks over at Veronica, a frown on her face, “is everything okay?”

“Yep. Did you hear the judgement in Poppy’s voice? God she can be so infuriating sometimes. I need a drink.” Veronica storms off, leaving Bea in the middle of the dance floor. Her eyes begin scanning the room and she feels alarmed when she notices Poppy not in the room anymore. She begins looking all around the room before Veronica joins her, confused. “Is everything okay?”

“Where’s Poppy?”

Veronica surveys the room, huffing, “she’s probably gone to hook up with Bradley.”

Bea frowns, “something doesn’t feel right, I’m going to go look for them, stay here.” Before Veronica can respond Bea is already gone, making her way through the crowd as she slips out. Bea begins looking around the palace until she sees the end of Poppy’s dress just as she goes into a room, hesitantly Bea follows. Just as she reaches the room, she twists the handle, opening the door and goes into a defensive stance as Bradley swings around, pulling Poppy against him, holding a knife to her throat.

“Hughes,” Poppy whimpers as Bradley harshly shushes her.

“Let’s all just calm down here,” Bea raises her hands, her voice low and soft, “let’s not do anything abrupt.”

“Let us leave and nothing will have to happen.”

“I can’t let you do that,” Bea takes a step closer promoting Bradley to push the knife against Poppy’s neck, making a small cut.

“Can’t do that I’m afraid,” the previous warm glint that shone in Bradley’s eyes are gone, replaced with a more hysterical one, insanity glimmering beneath the surface. “This is for the Sons of Veronica.” Just before he can do anything, Bea leaps forward pulling Poppy out of his grasp, stepping in front of her, just as Bradley’s knife wildly swings, slicing her, just under her chest. Bea groans slightly before grabbing his wrist, pulling it backwards, evoking a scream from Bradley as she snaps his wrist.

“Poppy run!” Poppy hyperventalies as she reaches the door but when she throws it open, she gasps.

“Hughes.”

Bea turns to see a wide, built man, standing in the doorway, anger written in his face. She throws Bradley to the side before, pushing Poppy away, throwing a series of precise punches at the man. Unfazed, he grabs Bea by the throat, throwing her against the wall, his grip tightening. Bea gasps as she clutches at her throat, feeling the air leave her lungs as she tries to muster up the strength to claw and punch her way out. Instead she feels dizzy, her eyes slowly closing as she feels herself losing consciousness. Out of nowhere, Poppy smashes a vase over the man’s head, causing him to loosen his grip around Bea’s throat. He angrily huffs, backhanding Poppy, as she hits her head against the corner of a desk. Bea calls out of her, anger filling up her entire body as she lets out a primal battle cry and swipes her leg under the man’s, resulting in him losing his balance. She then flips his body around, pressing the front of him to ground as her knee digs into his neck. A few moments later his body goes limp and Bea moves away, running towards Poppy who lays on the ground unmoving.

“Poppy!” She calls out, worried but she sighs breath of relief when she sees Poppy’s eyelids fluttering open. “Are you okay?”

Poppy nods clutching at her head, “my head hurts,” Bea reaches out, placing her fingers on a small cut that has formed on Poppy’s head.

“You’re okay.” A series of groans snaps her out as she looks up to see Bradley trembling as he holds out a knife, his hand violently shaking. Bea stands, kicking him square in the chest, causing him to crash into some cupboards, knocking him out. Bea pulls out her phone, calling the guards to put the palace on lockdown in case there are any more surprises.

After being checked by a medical professional, Ana rushes pulling Poppy into a huge hug, tears falling down her face, “thank god you’re okay. I don’t think I could handle losing your father and you.” She gratefully kisses the crown of Poppy’s head before turning to look at Bea, a grateful smile on her face. “And you Miss Hughes,” she pulls away from Poppy, pulling Bea into a hug, “if it wasn’t for you I-“ she begins sobbing as Bea rubs comforting circles on her back.

“Just doing my job.”

“Thank you,” Ana says, as she holds both of Bea’s hands in hers, “even when you weren’t on duty you saved my daughter’s life, thank you.” Bea nods as Ana pulls her in for another hug. Poppy watches as the police put Bradley and the other man into handcuffs, a frown on her face.

She turns to her mother, “what is Sons of Victoria?”

Ana stammers, “where did you hear that?” She gazes around the room, her expression careful.

Bradley mentioned it before he attacked us, what are you not telling me?”

Ana awkwardly glances around the room before lowering her voice to a whisper, “we have a lot to discuss.”

#playchoices #queen b #poppy min sinclair #poppy x mc #bodyguard au #i hope you guys enjoy this #i’m sorry if it’s bad it’s like 4am rn #(basically 5am idk

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unusual-ly · 3 years ago

Note

Numbers 2, 4 and 10 from the Fic Writer Questions for Never Did Run Smooth? 💙

I meant to answer this last night and then I fell asleep, sorry!!

2. Which scene was your favourite to write in Never Did Run Smooth?

Oooh, that’s hard to narrow down to just one… collectively all the scenes related to the fabric; the first date when they go shopping together, the super short scene when Ian actually comes into her room and leaves the package for her, Gabriel finishing the dress and Ian getting all flustered and stuttering, then her giving him the new outfit, I just loved that plot point, all the back and forth of it~ They’re both so shy and unsure of themselves but starting to feel more comfortable with each other

But also when Ian confesses to Gabriel that he killed Croydon. I wrote a lot of that scene in advance, mostly the dialogue. I’m just very happy with how that turned out. Same with the rescue scene, the dialogue in the cell and as they’re escaping and all the tension…! And the interactions between Bill and Anne, especially towards the end as they’re stuck waiting for Gabriel and Ian, more tension plus a bit of fluff~

4. If you could change anything in Never Did Run Smooth, what would it be?

Make it longer, tbh, with better pacing. There was quite a bit of jumping forward a week or two in the first half of the story, then suddenly there was multiple chapters set over the course of roughly twenty four hours. I didn’t like the idea of the relationship progressing too fast, that’s something that bugs me a lot in romantic stories, and also I headcanon Ian as demiromantic so I needed him to have time to get close enough to Gabriel, but I didn’t have any ideas for how to fill in that time that wouldn’t slow down the plot so I just kept adding in vague timeskips

10. What are some facts readers may not know about Never Did Run Smooth?

the epilogue wasn’t originally for this fic, it was just a cute scene I had in my head of Ian giving Gabriel a new earring. I hadn’t even thought of it in relation to the scene from the film until I had most of the main plot figured out

there’s still one unused scene summary left in my notes app from when I was planning that’s basically about Ian having little moments to himself where he’ll be muttering to himself slightly sarcastically or making little jokes about something as he works (like his first scene in the film “it doesn’t matter, it’s only for him, in’t it?”) and he doesn’t realise that Gabriel is right behind him, and she just laughs and makes a joke in response, and he’s just embarrassed that she heard him. The problem was I couldn’t fit it in anywhere without disrupting the flow of the plot (if you or anyone else wants to use that idea, feel free~)

this was the first fic where I made little promo image edit things for each chapter! They’re very basic, just a cropped screenshot with white text but I loved making them every week~ Chapter 7 has a few alternative versions because I couldn’t decide on which quote to use until I was about to upload

I have the basic layout of the family’s house mapped out pretty clearly in my head, moreso the inside than the outside, but I don’t really have any way of actually showing you *^* Maybe I’ll figure something out someday…

#never did run smooth fic #bill 2015 #bill the film #bill the movie #Gabrian #crazy in the coconut #don’t stab the messenger

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httphopewrld · 4 years ago

Text

I Don’t Know What to Call This | (f/m/a) sneak peek!!!

Just Friends? Friends with benefits? Dating? Questions swarmed your mind when one of your dear friends, Allie, asked about you and Hoseok’s relationship. The truth was you didn’t know. You and Hoseok were close, knowing each other since elementary school, and considered each other friends. However, as you two grew older, maturing into separate professions—you a well-known fashion designer, and Hoseok a famous musician and dancer—you two had engaged in some intimate activities (sex—lots of it.) After Allie’s simple question, you had to confront your feelings. But were you and Hoseok ready to be more than close friends and fuck buddies?

Pairing: friend/lover/bfhoseok! x female reader

Genre: slow-burn fluff, some angst, and SMUT

Rating: 18+ because there’s swearing and pretty detailed smut

Warnings: swearing and SMUT (one of the most detailed smuts I’ve written, and there’s more than one sex scene.) Smut includes: switch!reader and switch!hoseok, grinding and thrusting, protective sex (USE CONDOMS, I cannot stress that enough), lots of kissing, ass-grabbing, dirty talk, a wee bit of choking on both sides, squirting, male and female oral, fingering and handjobs, vibrator use, cyber-sex, reader uses dildo, slight degradation, and just lots of filth—YOU’RE WELCOME FELLOW FILTHY ANIMALS.

Word Count: more than 10,000 (not finished yet)

A/N: Happy birthday J-Hope! Although the fic won’t be released today, or tomorrow, on his birthday, it will be out next Friday (February 26). Please let me know in the comments if you wanted to be included in the taglist, and what you think!

Taglist: @kirbykook @kleritata @taestannie @jenotation @hemmos-obrien @zeharilisharaban @speed-of-wind

⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰

You can move those over there,” you gestured to the left corner of the windowed room, where a pile of boxes waited. The move was going to take longer than you expected because the movers arrived a week later than your assistant, Rachel, said. I really need to talk to her about this. You stressed in your mind, rubbing your temples. “Are you okay?” You looked up, vision resuming its focus on your friend, Allie. Allie, your friend for as long as you could remember, offered to help you move to your new building. She would help you manage everything, including the movers, tracking your company’s items, and the layout you gave to her for said things while you managed the company. “I’m just irritated at Rachel,” you noticed her confusion, “my new assistant.” She nodded, remembering, “Right. Why is she still employed?” “Because she’s new, and being an assistant is a tough feat. She’ll get it soon.” You reassured, “Rachel is a fast learner, and this is her first mistake. We’re prepared for the next show, though, because Westley helping me organize it.” “Remind me who Westley is?” Allie asked. You sighed. “West is like my second brain. He helps organize the fashion shows, hire the models, find the venues, and secure the guest list. He has other people help him too, but he’s the brains of that. I create the fashion, and he finds a way to present it.” Allie nodded, “Gotcha.” Your phone rang, and you answered. “Y/N.” “Y/N!” Rachel chimed on the other end. “It’s Rachel. I’m so sorry about the mix-up on dates. It won’t happen again, I—” “I know it won’t, Rachel. You’re new, so I expected to slip up. I’ve gotten it taken care of,” you nudged Allie’s arm, and she smiled. “We’re luckily prepared for the next show in Vancouver, so you don’t have to worry about the mess up. All I need you to do now is make sure that my fabrics are coming in.” “Yes! They’ve arrived at the studio.” Rachel replied. “Fantastic. Thank you. That’ll be all for now. Please check on West if he needs anything.” You requested. “Will do, Y/N. Talk to you soon.” You hung up. The Vancouver show was in five months, giving you and your team enough time to design the clothes for the production and move to the new building. The show’s theme was natural bodies of water and nature, a nod to Canada’s landscape. The clothing catalogue would include various icy blue shades to represent waterfalls and warm emerald tones like flora and fauna. These colours would be encapsulated in elegant gowns and suits, worn by different shapes, genders, and colours. The materials would be made from recycled fabrics from your previous shows and from your fellow artists. You were known for designing elegant attire, so it was best to keep to it. However, it was rare to see different sized, coloured, and gendered models on a runway; because of having to customize clothes to those models. Additionally, making clothes from recycled fabrics would be tough. “Okay,” you began, “I need to talk to my design team and plan out the gowns. Can I leave you here to deal with the movers?” Allie gave you a thumbs up. “Thank you,” you smiled, hugging her, “if you need anything, please call me or Rachel, or both. We’ll be back to help.” Before you left, a thought struck you. You turned around to face Allie. “I should just hire you.” She chuckled, “Why?” You scoffed, “Because you’re here all the time!” You backed back to her. “Listen, you’re the best manager I know. You can be my third brain. You already are, outside of work, so it would make sense.” Allie seemed unsure. “I already have my job at Youth and Hope.” You grasped her hands. “You would be given a great wage, not just because you’re my best friend, but because you’re going to be busy with lots of work. You would be handling the management tasks, like West. You’d be given a good amount of vacation, trips for shows and meetings would be paid for—you could get that loft you always wanted downtown.” You wiggled your eyebrows, and Allie laughed. “Don’t I have to go through an interview process?” You brushed a hand through the air. “I can get someone to interview you and officially hire you. Once that’s done, you’ll start getting paid.” You checked your watch, and a quick rush of panic ran through you. “Shit, I’m going to be late. Consider it, alright! Let me know your availability, and we’ll schedule an interview!” “Okay!” She shouted back as you left. . . The coffee had become bitter. You weren’t sure if it was the roast or the fact that this was your fourth cup of the night. It had been a month since the fabrics arrived. Thanks to Allie, your friend and now employee, your move to the new building was complete; however, your designs weren’t translating as smoothly as you wish. “Fuck,” you cursed, taking your head in your hands and rubbing your temples. The sketches waited in front of you. The measurements and ideas raking at your confidence. Your designs are redundant. You’ve done something similar last time. Boring. Plain. You turned back to your mannequins, still bare. The theme was in your mind, and your design team reassured you that your sketches were fine, but it all felt fuzzy. “Y/N,” Rachel peered into the studio from the door, “there’s a gentleman here to see you.” “His name?” You asked, still looking at the mannequins. You heard footsteps retreat into the front lobby, then come back to the door. “Jung Hoseok?” You turned around, trying to contain your excitement. “Please send him in.” Rachel nodded, jogging back to the lobby. You heard a muffled “thank you” before heavy footsteps approaching your studio. Hoseok reached the doorway, beaming his signature smile. He wore acid-washed jeans, a baggy white sweater that matched his chunky light sneakers. His dark hair was slightly wavy and parted in the middle. A tote bag was slung over his shoulder. “Y/N!” He cheered, opening his arms wide. “Hoseok!” You replied, running into his arms and hugging him tightly. You couldn’t remember the last time you saw Hoseok—a year or two? “Fuck, how long has it been?” You asked him. He pulled away, thinking. “About six months?” Totally off. “Seriously, it felt longer than that.” You argued. Hoseok pulled out his phone and scrolled through his calenderer and photos. He made a ‘tsk’ sound. “Ah, see here,” he showed you a few photos of you two with his friends, who were also his bandmates, “six months ago, you joined us on tour for a couple days before coming back here. I have it also marked in my calendar.” He showed you the dates, which were marked with ‘💚Y/N’s visit💚.’ “Can Namjoon or Yoongi confirm this?” You crossed your arms. Hoseok mimicked your body language. “I can call them right now,” he challenged. You two stood in competitive tension. You succumbed. “You win this time, Jung Hoseok.” He playfully chuckled. You realized that Hoseok doesn’t live around here. “Wait, why are you in town. Shouldn’t you and the others be in Korea planning another album or something?” You speculated. “Our company gave us a month for vacation because we spent most of the year touring.” Hoseok sighed. “So, I decided to come to visit.” You hugged him again, happy to see someone who wasn’t your employee amidst this chaos of stress. “How long are you staying?” You asked, muffled against his chest. He paused. “Maybe a month?” You pulled away from him, shocked. “A month? Here? That’s all your vacation time.” “Yeah,” he replied, as if that wasn’t a big deal, “I didn’t want to travel to a bunch of places because the group and I have been doing that for almost a year—and it’s pretty chill in this area.” He sighed. “Besides, I don’t think many people would recognize me. The airport wasn’t busy, and I haven’t been swarmed by fans yet.” “Do you have a place to stay?” You asked. He nodded. “Yup! I’m staying at a fancy hotel. I got the suite at the top floor,” he made a gesture with his hand, indicating how high up his suite was. You playfully elbowed his side. “Wow look at you, Mr. Famous. You can afford a top suite now. Are you sure you don’t want to stay with me, though?” Hoseok dismissed your offer with a wave of his hand. “It’s alright, Y/N. Thank you, though.” He peered over your shoulder, “It looks like you’re busy anyway, so I think I’ll just stick to my suite.” He walked past you, over to the bare mannequins. “Are you preparing for that show in Vancouver that you told me about?” You nodded, relaying your theme and ideas to him. He smiled. “That sounds really cool,” he pointed to the mannequins, “but don’t you need some clothes for the show, then?” You rolled your eyes, chuckling at him for being a smart ass. “Yes, I do. I’m brainstorming some ideas right now, but I’m coming up with nothing. I have the design team coming in tomorrow with drafts, but I’d like to bring my own thing to the table, you know? I’m the main brain of this operation, and it’d be embarrassing if I come in with zilch.” You leaned against one of the tables, facing the mannequins. “The tough part is designing gowns that fit the right people, you know. Sure, you can make a collection of clothes, but they won’t look good if they don’t fit the models.” You shook your head. “Maybe it’s just tougher to design clothes for different bodies, genders, and colours. I should just stick to one type of person and leave it at that.” Hoseok walked up beside you, leaning against the same table and facing the figures. “Why don’t you find the models and then design the clothes?” You looked at him, surprised. “But wouldn’t that take a long time?” He crossed his arms, “Well, how many models would you need?” “We’re thinking around seventy. There’s going to be two changes within the show.” Hoseok nodded, and you could see him brainstorming. “Well, you have four months left, right? You and your team can make some drafts, cast the models, and then finalize the ideas with said models. Which would take about a couple of months? You could do that while planning the show?” He paused, appearing to notice your hesitant expression. “Think about it. You’ve trained your team well enough to work on its own, right? That’s what you did for your last show, which was a success. You came in every day for a couple hours to make sure everything was in order, then focused on other things.” Hoseok grasped your hands. “You’re great at multitasking, so do it. It’s scary, but you can check on people every day to make sure everything’s alright.” You bit your lip, “I-I don’t know, Hoseok. That sounds like a lot of work—” “You did it last time, and it worked out just fine,” he gently squeezed your hands, “and I’m here for a month. I can help out whenever you need me. I’ll simply clean things up and fetch coffee if that’s what you need.” You laughed, “Like my intern?” “Yeah! I don’t know how to design anything or plan a fashion show, but I’ll do what I can.” He smiled. “You’re so much more than you think, Y/N, and if you need reminders, I’ll be here.” You smiled back at him, so grateful to have him here. “My god, you’re fucking sweet,” you scoffed, taking your hands out of his. Hoseok laughed. You pushed yourself off the table and faced him. “How did we even become friends?” You questioned. He actually gave it a thought. “You joined by dance club in elementary school, when no one else would.” He laughed so hard that he teared up. “I think we actually took club photos, and it was only you and I posing.” You laughed with him, remembering those days spent trying to breakdance to hip hop and presenting dance routines to your parents. “Yeah, that was before you joined that Music Academy in grade four, right?” He nodded, and you sighed, surprised you still remembered. Your mind came back to the present. “So, you’re actually okay with helping out?” You checked. “Why would I ask if I didn’t want to?” Hoseok replied. You tapped your index finger against your temple, “true.” “So, how much do you want?” Hoseok looked offended at your question. You chuckled. “Well, you’re going to work for me, so I need to pay you.” “It’s only just a month, though.” “Yeah, but—” “What about we see how much you have me do before you pay me?” He interrupted. “I might just have to fetch coffee, so you can just give me money on the spot.” You thought about it for a minute. Hoseok yawned. “This work talk is making me tired. Do you want to go out for dinner?” He looked around you, “Unless you have more work to do. I can always wait in the lobby for you to finish.” You brushed your hand through the air, “Nah, it’s okay. I’m pretty brain dead anyway. I need to be energized for tomorrow’s draft review.” Hoseok pushed himself off the table and clapped. “Awesome! Where do you think I’m taking you for dinner?” You bit your lip, trying to guess. “Sushi?” “Sushi it is!” He beamed. You grabbed your things and followed him out of the studio.

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