#trying to talk to the Boots staff about this had been so stressful they keep staring at me like I'm an alien

[phoenixcatch7]

The daycare attendant is so fascinating, I love talking about their designs. Like, if one were to build a da, taking into account everything we know about them, what would it involve?

I'm going to talk about their history, appearance, details, and potential theories behind their design, with a healthy dose of headcanon. And it's going to be LONG. I'll break it into reblogs to use multiple line breaks, but that requires I post it in unfinished stages, so bear with me.

First things first, what have we most recently learned? I said in another post that it's a theory that the attendant was originally created for the next door theatre before they were moved to the daycare full time. Similarly, we've just had proof of the existence of Eclipse, who's a absolute darling, if not at all up to date on the state of the plex.

Their arms were revealed to glow. In a dimly lit theatre relying on a light/dark gimmick, glowing forearms is both cool and helpful! But we never saw it in sb. Likely it's a conscious choice, given we see it after the plex is already destroyed, so it's not a lost or removed ability! It simply wouldn't have been very useful, with sun being in bright light at all times and moon trying for... A modicum of stealth.

Perhaps it's also a matter of battery, as another theory suggests the da, as the animatronic actively on patrol during the hourly recharge, and the first one you battle in the game, was originally supposed to be the source of the power upgrade that in the finished game is just readily available to freddy without explanation. Unlike all the other upgrades, which you have to defeat each other animatronic for. The increased power would certainly have been useful for both massively extended patrol times and those transformations, which certainly look power intensive! Booting up and switching over such all encompassing and high level programs has to be draining!

In a lot of the plex, but especially in the daycare, you see a lot of cut corners and animatronics not reaching their full potential (thankfully!). A lot seems hastily patched, from monty joining the band after Bonnie seemingly vanishes from the face of the earth, the constantly collapsing sinkhole in the raceway, the giant rubbish stuffed full sewer area like the underneath of a teenagers bed. Music man doubles as a cleaner. Moon works night shift as security (and a tva on the side lol).

In that regard, the da came across to me as very overworked, when I first encountered it. Sun was stressed and under a lot of strain, stretched thin. His barely contained mania is basically his whole character, besides his natural showmanship. He's jumpy, smothering, and basically five seconds away from wrapping Gregory in bubble wrap at any given moment.

What I found interesting was how he seemed tired. He talks about all these activities, but doesn't actually... Do any of them. He basically plonks Gregory down by the nearest distracting object (though it works against him, this obsession with having everything nice and tidy definitely read to me about trying to keep everything in your power when you have limited control) and doesn't let him leave from that spot. He doesn't speak or try and engage Gregory except to drag him back, he doesn't bother using the flying rope despite having the hook in his back. When he loses Gregory he just sits in a corner with his head in his hands. Whether he's playing hide and seek or crying or whatever you interpret it as, it's not exactly energetic. He's grubby and marked - either he or a staff member should be keeping him as sparkly as the other animatronics, and they're not keeping on top of it.

Moon, on contrast, uses the rope. He bounces and flips and jiggles and walks on his hands and pretends to swim. He's got no problem chasing Gregory into the tunnels once enough generators are flipped. He's not afraid to back off, either - he doesn't stop moving, but instead circles like a culture, muttering to himself. He most likely runs on the same battery as sun, but he's not afraid of using it. Not to mention whatever bizarre but super cool galaxy effect he can use on the hour change, possibly all the way across the map!

Eclipse, meanwhile, has a voice significantly less robotic than the other two, uses the rope, and activates those old glowing arms without a thought, despite the fact that sun and moon are slow and staggering by the time of ruin. For goodness sake, moon can't even get a proper grip on a child's arm, and is fended of by even a single torch beam, despite being completely immune to the torch and a game over if he even touched you in sb.

Theatrical expressive design

Eclipse as ring master

Child safety problems

Likely mechanics of mask/clothes

Implications of room

Chance of fazbear splurging on sign language/disabilities accommodation

Liklihood of bring connected to the Internet (not high)

Security desk barrier (they both can touch and climb on it only in cutscene)

Involvement of light levels

Human actors v endos.

Potential programming and maintenance.

[azenkii]

A Long List of Trash Fire Lord Zuko Headcanons

...that i couldn't get out of my head:

(warning: SUPER LONG POST i havent figured out how to trim posts yet)

he's the one who unchains azula despite iroh's protests. she doesn't even try to fight him, just cries into his shoulder and keeps mumbling about how father's going to be so disappointed in her. he takes her to her rooms and has her drink a sleeping draught, then stations the best guards he has left outside her chambers.

his first council meeting takes place literally a day after sozin's comet. he hobbles into the council chamber shirtless with his entire torso covered in bandages and every council member just looks at him like '...what'

he does NOT sleep for like,,a week after sozin's comet and then another two weeks after his coronation. katara, aang and suki try to persuade him to sleep and he doesn't listen. eventually sokka, toph and mai team up to literally drag his ass to bed and tell him he's not allowed to get up until he sleeps (does mai pin him to the bed with her knives? yes. is it kinky or sexual in any way? definitely not.)

he drinks So. Much. Tea. at this point it's practically tasteless to him but he drinks it anyway because he just needs something to do and tea is something familiar. he keeps iroh on his toes because he's constantly asking for new tea blends, uncle, i think i actually tasted the last one,

he flat-out refuses to grow his hair for at least a year after ozai's defeat. the second it starts getting close to his chin he shears it off himself, with his knife, and his stylist has a heart attack every single time

when he's tired he'll occasionally jump up when one of his guards moves. it stops after a bit, but for the first month and a half or so he's really twitchy. when sokka asks, the only explanation he can come up with is that he's not used to having people stand behind him silently and not want to kill him, much less want to protect him (sokka immediately takes him out for a shopping trip and makes a point of walking behind him the entire time, but only on zuko's right side, where he can clearly see it if sokka moves towards him)

when the healer declares azula mentally unstable and in need of an institution, he shuts himself in his office for the rest of the night. no one's allowed in, not even iroh. he finally emerges in the morning, eyes red from crying and sleep deprivation, and tells the librarian that he'd like a list of the best mental institutions in the country, please, the best in the world if you can get them

he loves theatre (is this even a headcanon?). unfortunately it practically died out in the fire nation along with the rest of the creative arts, leaving nothing but small troupes like the ember island players. one of zuko's personal goals (meaning things he wants to accomplish that aren't as important as restoring his country) is to bring back theatre; he finally manages to do it after about eight months or so of being fire lord, along with other arts like dancing, music and sculpture

he establishes a national day of mourning, on the first day of autumn every year, to commemorate the genocide of the air nomads. from 100AG onwards, every calendar printed in the fire nation has it marked. at first it was called the day of repentance, but aang persuaded him to have it changed (by arguing that he didn't want guilt to be a literal staple of fire nation culture)

he introduces literally So Many educational reforms, plus a mandatory class that teaches students about the cultures of the other nations (air nomads included) and how some of their traditions overlap

he turns down the offer of having a statue put up of him in the capital. toph ignores him and does it anyway.

he visits azula regularly, makes sure she's (relatively) comfortable and well-fed, and sometimes just sits down outside her door and tells her about everything that's going on right now ('some of the far colonies have developed their own standardised writing, azula, you wouldn't believe it, and i've asked the fire sages to come visit more often—but you never liked them, did you? oh, well; i'll make sure none of them go into your chambers by mistake')

(he doesn't know it, but when he does this azula sits by the door and listens. she wonders what kind of writing the colonists have developed, and whether or not the fire sages have taken on some new recruits.)

he hates being above anyone else. never sits in the throne if he can help it, nor does he sit on the dais in the council room. when he talks to people shorter than him, he finds himself stooping a little bit to talk to them on their level (the exception to this rule is sokka, who he mocks for being shorter all the way up until sokka grows taller than him, the bastard)

the first time he visits the earth kingdom, the earth king's ministers call a toast. he ends up being the only one who has to sit out, because he's too young to drink by earth kingdom law

once his servants figure out he won't kill them for talking to him, they start becoming a lot more bold, telling him off when he doesn't take care of himself. at one point, they force him to let them take care of him so much that he literally just bolts into the gardens and hides there until the staff rope in mai and ty lee

when he needs to escape, he does one of two things: (a) he dresses up as the blue spirit and does some parkour until he calms down, or (b) he goes to work at the jasmine dragon. (b) happens less often bc the jasmine dragon's in ba sing se, but there's been a few memorable incidents when an earth kingdom diplomat walks in and yells, 'LEE?!' when they see the fire lord

the first court artist who draws him also happens to be the one who drew azulon and ozai. he draws zuko without his scar. zuko takes one look at it and tells him, very calmly, that he'd like him to leave, please.

zuko burns the portrait. he doesn't fire the court artist, but he never calls on him again unless he has to. a second court artist is called, and can't help but be a bit confused when the fire lord tells him to be sure to include the scar

he forgets the crown. a lot. sometimes he walks into council meetings in his sleepwear with his hair tied up in a messy ponytail and a bunch of scrolls tucked under his arm. none of his councilmen have the guts (or the heart) to tell him that this is not, in fact, formal council wear

he goes to feed the turtleducks when he's stressed. he thinks he's being subtle. he's not. the entire palace knows, and they consciously give him space when they see him in the turtleduck garden

most of his staff are older than him, so they look at him and see this teeny tiny fire lord who is So Small and who Must Be Protected. the day after zuko's coronation, the head chef holds a meeting where they commence Operation Do-Not-Let-That-Boy-Turn-Out-Like-His-Father (subsection He's-The-Only-Good-Thing-We-Have)

one night he wakes up to find suki sitting in his room, decked out in full kyoshi warrior garb and makeup, and just about screams blue murder. suki tells him there are suspicions of an assassin in the palace, and would you please stop yelling it's very distracting, we won't be able to hear anyone coming over that racket

zuko gets very, very paranoid of random spirits after that. yeah, suki looks like a possibly malevolent spirit when she's wearing her makeup, what about it? (when he tells sokka he's highkey terrified of spirit shenanigans, sokka just looks at him and says, 'man, the stories i could tell...', and THAT'S when zuko remembers sokka spent like six months more than he did travelling with the avatar)

on his first visit to the southern water tribe, he removes his boots and leg guards, rolls up his pants and kneels barefoot in the snow. even though chief hakoda immediately starts trying to pull him up, he's stubborn as hell and stays kneeling for the entirety of his very long, very sincere apology-on-behalf-of-the-fire-nation speech. he nearly loses his toes to frostbite after that, and both sokka and katara never stop giving him shit for it

the first time he grows a 'beard' is completely accidental. he's stressed over some trade miscommunications with chief hakoda, hasn't slept in a few days...and then when sokka arrives as water tribe ambassador to help smooth things over, he takes one look at zuko and says 'man, facial hair does not suit you'

zuko: facial what now

he checks a mirror to find that he's got stubble covering his chin, dark enough that it almost looks intentional, and holy gods how the fuck did he not notice this before

'UNCLE WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME' 'i assumed you were doing it on purpose' 'WHEN HAVE I EVER DONE ANYTHING ON PURPOSE'

he shaves it all off immediately, of course, which prompts a lot of teasing and rib-poking from sokka until zuko finally snaps that he's scared it'll make him look like his father. sokka stops after that.

(the day after sokka leaves, zuko finds that a mysterious someone has scribbled all over ozai's royal portrait, giving him a frankly ridiculous beard and moustache that literally CANNOT be grown in real life. oddly enough, he can't bring himself to care about the defamation of royal property. he's too busy laughing.)

his paths cross with toph and sokka more than any of the others, because sokka is ambassador and toph is technically still a beifong. most of the time, at formal functions, he ends up sequestered in the corner with toph and a hoard of snacks, and they talk and swear much more than they usually do (zuko's ministers once heard him when he was drunk with toph, and the servants swear the older ministers' ears started bleeding)

he restores fire nation cultural festivals, and in doing so subjects himself to learning a lot of complicated dances

during one memorable week, he wrote so many letters and drafted so much legislation that he ran out of paper. he had to go visit the nearest school and ask for some

he keeps up with his firebending and sword training even though it's hard to fit into his schedule. his ministers refrain from reminding him that he has guards to protect him now; it's still hard for zuko to trust his safety with anyone but himself (team avatar is the exception).

he started sleepwalking about two months into his reign. no one knew why. one time, he nearly sleepwalked right off the edge of a balcony, and one of his guards had to grab him by the back of his robes.

the sleepwalking stopped after around a month and never happened again. at this point it's practically palace legend.

after freeing the war prisoners, he went around collecting every single earthbender-proof wooden cell he could find in the capital and surrounding areas. when he'd gotten most of them, he gathered them into a huge pile in the city square and set fire to them with his own hands.

unfortunately he couldn't do that with the waterbender metal cells but he did get toph to come in and bend them all into pretty shapes (well, toph thought they were pretty shapes. everyone else thinks they're meaningless squiggles)

he learned how to write with both hands at the same time out of sheer necessity (he refused scribes until it became clear that he'd be putting some people out of a job; that was when he started letting scribes write very, very minor things, but all important documents/drafts/letters are still written by him)

he once put the wet end of an ink brush in his mouth instead of the wooden end by mistake. didn't even realise until he bit down to keep it in place and ink went oozing everywhere

when his guards rushed in to find him coughing and spluttering black liquid all over his desk they thought he'd been poisoned but no he's just stupid

on his 17th birthday, his first one after being crowned, he got tackled by team avatar in the middle of the ballroom and ended up at the bottom of a cuddlepile for like ten minutes

this cuddlepile happened at an event that was very much public and very much formal. it was a scandal for weeks

just. fire lord zuko, guys. so much potential

[the-iceni-bitch]

All I Need

Pairing: Andy Barber x Fem!Reader

Words: 4512

Summary: Andy has been drowning his grief at your bar for weeks. You help him dry out after a particularly bad night.

Warnings: Major angst!, softish Andy Barber, slight AU (spoilers for Defending Jacob book), explicit language, explicit sexual content (fingering, unprotected vaginal intercourse), descriptions of excessive drinking by adult of appropriate age, SMUT, 18+ only!

A/N: I have officially jumped on the love train for everyone’s favorite floofy lawyer. The sad!boi activated my caretaker instincts so this is pretty soft compared to my normal fics, and extremely angsty. Plus the smut kind of got away from me, I actually had to stop myself from writing even more! 

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“Shit!! Jesse!” you screamed over your shoulder towards the kitchen, grabbing the bat from under the register as you jumped over the bar to break up the fight.

You swore under your breath as you moved toward the two men who were brawling. The smaller one seemed to have the upper hand, but it didn’t seem like the larger man was putting up much resistance. Maggie just stood there watching them with bambi eyes as you heard your giant cook rumble behind you, ripping off his apron to lend you a hand.

“What the fuck happened, Mags?” You hissed at your bartender, trying to haul the men apart with little success.

“Neal just came over and said he was sorry, and he just lost it.” The poor girl looked like she was on the verge of tears. Granted, she probably wasn’t expecting to have to deal with brawls in downtown Newton at a lawyer bar, but Neal sure seemed to invite violent reactions whenever he opened his stupid mouth.

You lost your patience and smashed an empty glass on the floor next to the two men, shocking them out of it. Neal rose to his feet with a look of fury on his face, but you kept your eyes on Andy Barber.

He’d spent pretty much every night this week since the funeral at your bar. His face was pallid and he had dark rings under his eyes. He was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday, and he smelled like stale bourbon. Now he was rolling around on the floor aimlessly like a slug.

“Get the fuck out of my bar, Neal.” You said exasperatedly, spying the mostly empty bottle of bourbon on Barber’s table.

“What, I didn’t do anything!” the giant whined at you.

“Really?! You couldn’t just leave the poor guy alone? Jesus Neal! I don’t wanna see you in here for a month.” You hooked your arms under Andy’s and dragged him to sit on the bench, his head lolling drunkenly on his neck as you tried to assess how far gone he was.

“Fuck you, bitch.” Neal spat at you as he turned on his heel and stormed out, slamming the front door behind him.

“Have a great night!” You called after him, sarcastically, flipping him off.

“You sure that’s a good idea, boss?” Jesse asked, his massive arms crossed over his chest as he shook his head at you.

“Who cares, I hate that smug asshole. Hey, Andy?” You snapped your fingers in front of his face and he slapped your hand away lazily, growling under his breath. “You sneak behind the bar again, man?”

“I swear, I didn’t sell him a bottle, Y/N.” Her chin was quivering as tears slowly leaked down her cheeks.

“I know Mags, he’s a sneaky bastard. Don’t worry, sweetie, you’re not in any trouble. Go to the bathroom and splash some water on your face.” You watched her scurry off to the bathroom and rubbed a hand over your face. “Fuck. I’m gonna call in Emma to give Maggie a hand. You ok locking up tonight Jess?”

“Sure, what’re you thinking?”

You just stared at Andy with overwhelming pity as he almost slid of the bench, forcing you to keep a steadying hand on his shoulder. “I’m gonna take him back to his hotel and help him dry out. Wouldn’t feel right just kicking him to the curb.”

“You’re too soft, Y/N.” Jess chortled at you.

“Yeah, maybe. Can you bring me an ice bucket?” You hooked his arm over your shoulder and hauled him to his feet so you could make your way out to your car.

Jess got your bucket from behind the bar as you hobbled outside. You managed to get your passenger door open and you slid Andy inside. His head rolled on his shoulders as you buckled him in before shoving the bucket into his lap.

“Andy, can you hear me? Don’t you fucking puke in my car!”

He grunted in acknowledgment and wrapped his arms around the bucket, curling himself over to hang his head above it.

“You sure you shouldn’t be taking him to a hospital, Y/N?”

“No… mmph… no fucking hospital!” Andy slurred at you as you slammed the door closed.

“I’m pretty sure he’d jump out of the car if he thought I was taking him to the hospital Jess.” You murmured as you circled to the driver’s side. “Thanks for closing, you’re the best!”

You watched him wave in your rearview as you drove off, making sure to keep one eye on Andy as he groaned over his bucket.

You reached his hotel in 15 minutes, grateful for the short drive as the man was looking greener by the second. You dug your hands in the pockets of his coat, searching for the keys to his room and you thankfully found them quickly. You were relieved to see he was on the first floor, as you didn’t trust your ability to safely get him up the stairs.

Getting Andy out of your car was a deal harder than getting him in, as he slipped further into his alcohol induced stupor. You almost dropped him when you wrenched him out of his seat, and you basically carried him to his room.

You somehow managed to get the door unlocked and drag him inside right when you heard his stomach roil. You cursed under your breath as you scrambled to get him to the bathroom, shoving his head in the toilet just in time as he emptied his gut.

“Shit, Andy.” You hissed, your hands on your knees as you tried your best to breathe deeply and get accustomed to the scent of his alcohol-soaked stomach contents. Once you were sure he was relatively stable, you moved to the kitchenette and filled a glass with tepid water before returning to find him leaned back against the wall. “Drink.” You ordered, kneeling beside him and bringing the glass up to his lips.

His eyes locked onto yours as he chugged the water down greedily. No sooner had he swallowed the glass’ contents than he was lunging forward to throw it back up. You tutted worriedly as you rubbed a hand over his back and used the other to start the shower.

“Why the fuck are you here, Y/N?” He grumbled miserably, not bothering to lift his head as you dragged his coat over his shoulders and threw out into the living area.

“I couldn’t have you killing yourself in my bar, Andy. Where’s your phone?” His stomach seemed to have calmed down, so you drew him to lean back against the wall and started to tug off his boots.

“S’in my back pocket.” He slurred at you. You rolled him over and drew the phone out of his jeans to set it on the counter. “You could’ve let me do it here.”

“Nah.” You said. “If you quit coming around, what excuse am I gonna have to kick Neal out?” You rolled up your sleeves and thrust your hand under the shower’s flow, checking the temperature. “Hey, don’t you dare pass out on me!” You slapped him in the face as he started to doze off and you worked on getting him undressed. “I’m fucking serious, Barber, you don’t get to drink yourself to death on my watch.” You finally got his shirt off and started to drag his jeans down his legs.

“But why?” His eyes were boring into you now, pleading for some kind of answer to what possible reason there was for him to stick around as they welled up with tears.

You chewed your lip as you thought about it.

Andy had been a fixture at your bar for years. Always coming by for a celebratory drink after a win, or when he was working late on a difficult case. Even during Jacob’s trial, he’d stopped by with Joanna a few times to hash out details of the case. No matter how much stress he was under, you were always able to make him smile, and he always left a very generous tip no matter who was serving him. Your bar had been one of the only places he’d always felt welcome, and you had no qualms about kicking out anyone who wanted to give him a hard time.

Then the crash happened. He lost Jacob first; he was DOA to the hospital. His visits to your bar were more somber then. You didn’t try to make him smile, you barely even talked to him. But you’d drink with him in silence when he was the last patron in the bar, sitting across from him in his booth as the rest of the staff shut things down, occasionally placing your hand over his and rubbing your thumb over his knuckles in a comforting gesture.

They had taken Laurie off life support 2 weeks ago, and after her funeral was when he really started to spiral. Rather than nursing his usual three drinks, he was downing whole bottles a night. You had to instruct your staff to cut him off after 6, or he would end up like he was tonight. This wasn’t the first time you had caught him with a stolen bottle.

You couldn’t say why you cared so much. You weren’t even sure you were really friends. But through everything that happened, you seemed to be the only constant, an anchor point for him as his world fell apart.

“I dunno Andy.” You murmured as you drew off his socks before rolling him into the tub with a lurch, making him gasp as the cold water hit his skin. “I guess I’d miss you.”

He glared at you as he shivered under the shower’s stream, huddled around himself in only his boxers.

“Do I need to wash you, or do you think you can handle that on your own?” You asked, handing him a washcloth and some soap.

“I can handle it.” He hissed, snatching them from your hands as he braced himself against the wall and drew himself slowly to his feet.

“Good.” You started gathering up his soiled clothes. “Make sure to wash the vomit out of your beard.”

He ripped the shower curtain closed and tossed his boxers over the rail at you, grumbling the whole time. You bagged up his dirty laundry and set some clean sweats on the counter in the bathroom before you set to work on cleaning the rest of the hotel room, doing your best not to gag at the week-old takeout containers.

Andy staggered out of the bathroom 30 minutes later, rubbing a towel through his hair as he wobbled on still drunk legs.

“How’s your stomach?” You asked, stretched out on the couch and sipping a glass of ginger ale.

“S’better.” He murmured, stumbling his way to the bed and collapsing on it with a groan.

“And your head?”

“Fuck you.” He murmured with his face buried in the pillows.

You grabbed the garbage can from the bathroom and set it next to the bed. “Make sure you sleep on your side or your stomach. I’ll be on the couch.” You turned to leave and he grabbed your wrist, pulling you back.

“No, stay with me.” He mumbled, peeking up at you through those stupid long eyelashes, his damp hair drooping over his forehead.

“You’re still drunk, Andy.” You scolded, snatching your wrist away from him. You couldn’t deny you’d thought about it before, but there was no way you were going to let him make a move on you after the night he had. “I’m just 20 feet away, here to make sure you don’t choke on your own vomit overnight.”

You turned back to find him passed out, a thin trail of drool leaking from the corner of his mouth. You rolled your eyes and turned off the lights before collapsing on the couch in a huff.

Andy woke up to the smell of sausage and eggs as you slammed the hotel room door, carrying some takeout from the greasy spoon down the road.

“Shit, I was hoping to sneak out before you were up.” You murmured as he rose up off the bed, his bedhead a sight to behold. “I got you breakfast.”

“What happened last night?” He groaned, his stomach churning as he inhaled the smell of the food you had brought in.

“Well, you stole a bottle of Woodford Reserve from my bar, drank more than half of it, then fought Neal.” You shoved a plate of food in front of him as he sat down at the island. “Then I brought you back here and held your hair while you puked your guts out.”

“Fuck.” He murmured, fighting the urge to gag as he eyed the plate in front of him. “How did I get in these sweats?”

“Don’t worry, I dumped you in the shower in your boxers, no looks at the goods. And even if I had, last night was decidedly unsexy.”

“Shit, I’m so sorry.” He murmured, burying his head in his hands.

“Mmhmm. Eat.” You ordered, making him groan. “Suck it up, Barber, you’ll feel better after a couple of bites.” You watched him shovel a bite in his mouth and chew dutifully, taking a deep breath as you steeled yourself for what you wanted to say. “Are you talking to anyone, Andy?”

“’M talking to you.” He said around his second mouthful off breakfast, starting to feel a bit better.

“I mean like a shrink.” You said, seriously.

“What the fuck is this?” He threw his fork down on his plate, pissed. This was none of your business.

“Andy, you’ve been drinking yourself stupid every night for the past 2 weeks. It’s not healthy, and I don’t want to be responsible for you ruining your life.”

He gave you a snort of derision and rolled his eyes as he stood up to walk away. “Fuck off.”

“Hey!” now you were angry. “I care about you asshole! You think I enjoyed last night? I’m sick of it!” You followed after him, grabbing his shoulder and turning him around sharply.

“It’s not your problem, Y/N.” He seethed at you, ripping your hand off his shoulder as he took a menacing step towards you.

“You made it my problem when you decided to use my bar as the stage for your descent to rock bottom, dick!” You were yelling now. “Y’know what, fuck this. Figure your shit out Barber. Until then, don’t step foot in my bar.” You stormed out, slamming the door behind you as you slipped your coat back over your shoulders.

“Fuck!!” Andy screamed before charging after you.

He managed to catch up to you as you were about to open your car door and he slammed it shut over your shoulder, pinning you against the driver’s side of your vehicle.

“I swear to god, Andy, I’ll mace you.” You hissed at him, turning as you dug your hand in your bag. He wrapped a massive hand around your wrist, stopping your turn halfway.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured, pressing his forward to yours as he leaned against you. “I need you.”

“Andy…” this was such a bad idea.

“Why’d you stay last night?” He muttered, bringing his hand down to cup your cheek. “You said you care about me.”

“I do care, Andy.” You sighed as he took another step into you, pressing his body against yours. “Fuck, what’re you doing?”

“Stay.” He whispered, dipping his face to catch your lips with his and sending every objection you had right out of your head.

You sighed against him as you wrapped your hands in his hair, rolling your body against his. He ran his tongue over your bottom lip before pressing it against yours, his hands moving down to your hips and drawing you into him. You let out a whine as you felt his growing erection grinding against you.

“Shit.” You hissed as you felt a rush of arousal soak your panties. “Andy, we need to go back to the room.”

“Right.” He muttered, deepening your kiss as you wrapped your arms around his neck and he lifted you off the ground as he drew you away from your car and started to head back towards the room, thankful he had left the door ajar.

You kicked the door closed as he carried you inside, giving a small huff when he sat down on the bed with you straddling his lap. You slipped your coat over your shoulders and tossed it aside as his mouth devoured yours, lips molding to each other as your tongues tangled.

Andy slipped his fingers under the hem of your tee and drew it over your head, throwing it on top of your jacket before unclasping the front of your lacy bra and nuzzling himself between your breasts. He rolled the two of you gently until he was on top of you.

You sighed as Andy moved his mouth over the slope of your breast to wrap his lips around one of your nipples, sucking softly as he moved one hand to dip beneath the waistline of your jeans. He groaned against your chest when he found you sopping wet for him.

“God, I need you, sweetheart.” He mumbled against your skin as he worked at unbuttoning your fly, dragging your jeans and panties down your legs and flinging them aside before bringing his hand back up to cup your heat. “Need to make you feel good. Lose myself in you for just a bit.” He moved his lips up to brush against your neck as he rubbed his fingers through your folds, spreading your slick over your mound and making you gasp, your fingers gripping his massive biceps tightly as he teased you.

“Andy, please.” You whined, canting your hips into his hand, your clit throbbing with need as the pads of his fingers brushed against it.

He brought his face up to yours as he plunged one thick finger into you, a smile teasing his lips as he watched your face screw up in bliss. He dipped his lips to meet yours as he added another finger, swallowing your small cry.

“You feel so good, beautiful. So warm and tight.” He scissored his fingers inside of you, drawing lewd squelches from your canal as your arousal soaked his hand. “Fuck me, you’re perfect.”

You scrabbled your hands over the broad muscles of his back as he curled his fingers inside you, massaging that soft, spongy muscle deep within your canal. He buried his face in your neck, murmuring soft praises as you came apart beneath him.

You mewled as he inserted a third finger, your cunt clenching around him as you thrust yourself onto his hand, fucking yourself on his digits.

“You close love?” He asked, his thumb brushing against your clit before he started massaging it gently. Pressing soft circles into your core as you writhed beneath him.

“Oh, fuck.” You muttered. “fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck……”

He felt you tense underneath him when he drove his thumb into your clit, hard. You choked on your tongue as every muscle in your body vibrated with pleasure, your release gushing over Andy’s hand and soaking him to the wrist. He felt your nails digging through his sweatshirt as you came.

He kept his fingers moving inside you as your rode out your orgasm, your body rolling in waves underneath him as your pleasure wracked you, leaving you breathless. Once you sagged back against the bed, he withdrew them, disconnecting from you reluctantly to remove his own clothes. Staring down at you, all he wanted was to press himself against every inch of you. Claim every slope and curve of your body for his own.

He gripped one ankle and brought it up to his mouth, skimming his lips over the jut of bone as his fingers skirted over your calf, pressing into the firm muscle there. His lips followed his fingers, searing your skin with each lingering kiss and brush of his tongue as he worked his way further up your leg. Your cunt clenched around nothing when he reached your thigh, his beard scratching at the soft skin between your legs as he marked you with lips and teeth. You tangled your fingers in the blankets and moaned when he bypassed your core, moving up the line of your hip as he claimed you.

Your breath was coming quicker as worked his way over your body. His lips swept against your abdomen now, his tongue dipping into your navel as he nuzzled over the midline of your torso. All you could focus on was the feel of his mouth on your skin, leaving a trail of electricity as marked you as his. He laved his tongue over first one nipple, then the other as you arched into him, pressing your thighs together as your pussy throbbed with need.

He moved to trace the curves of your shoulders, his breath hot against your skin as he kissed his way down first one arm, then the other. You were panting now, your thighs soaked as arousal seeped out of you. Andy traced his fingers over your torso, skimming over the slopes of your breasts as he moved to kiss the curve of your neck, sucking gently to draw light bruises as his hands moved lower, kneading into your hips. He drew your knees apart slowly, slotting himself between your thighs as he dragged his hard length through your folds, making you keen as he ground into you.

You were a mess, your breath coming in ragged gasps as his hips rocked against you. You were desperate for release, every inch of you tingling with need and when Andy’s cock brushed against your clit, you lost it. You threw your head back in ecstasy as your fingers scrabbled in the sheets, desperate to hold onto something to keep you anchored.

Andy just stared at you, one massive palm cupping your cheek as he watched you falling apart. He needed you so much, you were the only constant he had. The only person who didn’t make him feel like a charity case or a failure. He hated what he was becoming, what the secrets and the tragedy were turning him into, but he knew if you stayed with him, he could come back.

“Y/N,” He whispered as you relaxed and he stilled his hips, his thumb tracing your cheekbone as you slowly opened your eyes, gazing up at him through your lust blown pupils. “Promise you won’t leave me.”

“Andy,” a small voice in the back of your mind was trying to warn you, telling you not to commit to anything now while he was still drowning in his grief. But you were overwhelmed with the pleasurable assault he had subjected you to and when he pressed his lips to yours again, that little voice went away. “I promise.” You gasped when he released you.

He grinned at you as he lined himself up, resting his forehead against yours as he gazed into your eyes. You were so wet that he slid into you easily, bottoming out right away with a hiss.

“Fuck, honey.” He murmured against your lips as you whined, his hips setting a languorous pace as he pulled out halfway before thrusting back into you. “God, you’re so tight, you feel amazing.”

You couldn’t reply, you could already feel another orgasm building as you thrust your hips to meet his, mewling softly as the warm coil in your stomach tightened. You ran your fingers over his auburn beard before burying them in his hair, panting into his mouth as he brought you closer to the edge.

Andy brought one hand between the two of you and strummed his thumb against your clit, making you tighten your fists in his hair until it was painful.

“God, Andy, right there.” You sobbed, your cunt clamping around him as he moved to bury his face in your neck, nuzzling against the hollow behind your ear.

“Go ahead, beautiful.” He scraped his teeth over the edge of your jaw as he drove his thumb against you, and you screamed.

You fluttered around him as your body spasmed, multiple waves of pleasure rippling through you. Your knees gripping around his hips and squeezing as your torso rolled against his. You sank back against the bed with a sigh as your body relaxed, Andy still fucking into you and starting to pick up speed.

“I’m gonna move you, pretty girl.” He wrapped his arms around you and rolled until you were on top of him, pressing you against his chest as he kissed you deeply. “Wanna watch you ride me.”

You gave him a smile as you sat up, bracing your hands against his chest as you ground yourself against him. He was seated in you deeper than anyone had ever been, his cock dragging against that secret spot inside you with each drive of your hips, making you groan. He thrust up into you and groaned at the bounce of your tits while you let out a cry at his tip hitting your cervix.

Andy dug his fingers into your hips as he took over, pistoning up into with increasing speed as your cunt clamped around him. Your head rolled loosely on your shoulders as you let go, eyes fluttering as you felt another orgasm gathering.

You gripped his hips tightly with your thighs as it hit you like a truck, sobbing with pleasure while your muscles shivered over him. Andy sat up quick and caught you before you could collapse back on the bed, wrapping one hand around the back of your neck and catching you lips with his as his hips picked up even more speed.

“Shit.” He murmured against your lips. You felt his cock twitch inside you as his hips faltered in their rhythm. “Are you on the pill honey?”

You nodded vigorously, unable to speak as Andy’s violent thrusts had knocked all the breath out of your lungs and you were gasping.

“Good. Fuck.” He nipped at your lips before shoving his tongue down your throat.

You felt warmth spread through your abdomen as he shot his release into you, his thick spend coating the slick walls inside you and leaking out over your thighs as he fucked you through it. He slowed his thrusts as you felt him soften inside you, groaning into your mouth as he came down and collapsed back against the bed, holding you close to his chest.

His chest hair scratched against your cheek as he breathed deeply, trying to slow his heart rate back down and rubbing his fingers over your spine as you panted on top of him.

Neither of you spoke for a while, content to lie in the comfort of each other’s arms. You made Andy feel safe, and he made you feel needed, and that was all the two of required for now.

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[forcebewitht]

Heads Will Roll For Your Insolence...And Maybe Some Hearts With It (Overblot!Riddle Rosehearts x Reader)

How had things gone wrong so fast? Why were you here to begin with?  What was the deal with some of these crazy people in this crazy world?! Were you going mad?! Regardless of the millions of questions that buzzed in your mind, all you could focus on was the bloodshot, redheaded boy, Riddle Rosehearts, who was completely flipping his lid. Your little ragtag group seemingly had pushed the male to his edge with your constant questioning of his rules- well, the rules of the Queen Of Hearts, that is. The Headmaster of Night Raven College, Dire Crowley, was already placing his hands onto his hips and allowing his eyes to widen in both worry and fear. "Mr. Rosehearts, you mustn't! You know what will happen! If you keep using magic, your Magic Crystal will be covered in Blot!"  Despite the Headmaster's desperate cries, Riddle placed his hand onto his chest, his eyebrows furrowing even further than they had before. "I am….I AM ABSOLUTELY…POSITIVELY….DEFINITELY CORRREEEECCCTTTT!"  Riddle's childhood friend, Trey, was now screaming right back at him in his own, dire moment of fear. "RIDDDDDDDDDLLLEEEEEEEEEE!" But despite the cries and warnings, it was already too late. An odd, black mud-like substance began to seep up and spread out from the ground itself, wrapping itself around Riddle. All your group could do now was to stand by and watch this horrifying transformation take place. 

A creature, oddly like the one you encountered with the Shared Brain Cell Squad in the Dwarves' Mines, appeared behind Riddle. The entire rose maze of the Heartslabyl Dorm seemed to come to life as Riddle began to laugh- no, cackle- at this new surge of power he felt. "Hehehehehe….HAHAHAHAHAHA! Those foolish enough to disobey me….they have no place in my world. I am the law in my world! I am the rules! No response other than, 'Yes, Lord Riddle!' Will be accepted! IT'S OFF THE HEADS WITH ANYONE WHO DISOBEYS ME! AHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA!"  Crowley began to groan at the sight- both in worry and slight annoyance. "In all my years as Headmaster...to see a student Overblot right in front of me!" Grim was quick to vocalize your own concerns, his eyebrows raising and his eyes widening. "GGGHHHH- WHAT'S HAPPENING TO HIM?! THAT GUY HAS A DESPERATE AIR TO HIM NOW!" And you were very swift to join in. "He's completely losing it!"  Everyone near you began to pitch in and explain what Overblot was- a mixture of Boot buildup from too much magic use combined with negative energy. Crowley soon darted off, now evacuating the other students as quickly as he could from the dorm. Your friends boldly began to attack the now rampaging Prefect of Heartslabyl. Riddle turned his head, almost laughing at this pitiful display. Though, his initial reaction of laughter soon faded away with his bubbling rage. "This guy...that guy...I'LL TAKE YOUR HEADS OFF ALL AT ONCE!"  

Riddle charged, though not before he caught your gaze. You. This had all started when you arrived. Why, you had no business coming into his Unbirthday Party celebration on a mere rebellious freshman's behalf. And looking so cute in their uniform….should have been a crime. The split second your eyes met, Riddle sent a rather devilish smirk your way. He'd make a rule follower out of you, yet. Instead of going for the frontal attack he was originally planning, he spun around in a wide circle. The boys were sent flying off their feet, then smacked over into the nearby rose bushes by...whatever that monstrosity was behind Riddle. Cater, Deuce, and Grim were knocked out on impact. Ace and Trey struggled to stand, both gritting their teeth and fighting through the pain of some rose thorns now being lodged in their skin. Trey was the first one to speak up to you. "G-go on- run, [Y/n]! We'll handle him- get back to the school and gather the staff to help out!"  Ace joined right in with a nod. "Run and don't look back, you hear me?! We've got this little rugrat under control!" At their reassurances, you nod. You had no magic to begin with- what else could you possibly do? Riddle, however, wasn't going to let you go that easily…

Riddle simply stood completely still and watched you run off into the rose maze. The second you were out of his line of sight, he swiftly turned on his heels. Both of his arms swung back, making two heart-shaped rose trees soar back and knock out both Ace and Trey with the others. The King of Heartslabyl began to walk, albeit half angry and half amused. You were fiercely running, your heart practically pounding in your chest as you could hear his loud yet slow footsteps behind you. Like he was mocking you. As if to add on to this thought, Riddle called out. "Oh, Prefecccctttttt...don't make your new Lord Riddle wait on you...come back here and let us talk this out."  Riddle's voice held a dangerous growl to it, and you could practically hear the dark grin seeping from the male merely from his tone. This gave power to your mad dash even further, as you were now beginning to attempt to figure a way out of the maze. It seemed like you may collapse at any minute. Disaster soon struck as you turned another corner- and hit a dead end. "GAAAAHHHH! WHY IS THIS DORM SO BIG?!"  You couldn't help but to allow your hands to trail up into your locks in a stressed manner. Suddenly, you heard something begin to shuffle in the bushes. With a tiny shriek of panic, you leap back, watching in utter horror as Riddle seemed to pass straight through the rose Bush itself. His expression was rather blank until he met your gaze. Then, that smirk was back. "Finally got you~" 

You immediately put your hands up into a defensive position, ready to drop kick this boy if need be- or at least try. "Riddle, about what was said before, the words came off rather harshly and we are al-"  You were soon cut off by Riddle placing a finger into your lips. He then places one onto his own, sending a wink your way with a gentle shush. "You came into my dorm, ruined my  tea party with your little friends, and made me truly angry." Riddle's eyebrows had furrowed as he spoke. "And yet...even then...I cannot get you out of my head. Hehe." All you could do was drop your jaw in shock. Suddenly, Riddle began speaking some more- no, wait, was he partially singing?  "You are so mysterious….sealed with your kiss...my words so delirious...from the venom on your lips~" Riddle was beginning to creep towards you, that smirk now back upon his face. Your eyes dart from side to side. What was going on? "You're begging me to stay...I should just walk away. Take this sword from my heart, now I'm bleeding out~" Riddle's expression suddenly shifted to a more serious one for a moment. "I'm not a player in your game."  That smirk floated right back on, the boy now motioning to himself. "I'm the King of Hearts….the King of Hearts, my baby~" Riddle stalked towards you, making your figure begin to back up into the rose bush behind you. His finger shot out, now fiercely pointing at you as his expression seemed to shift to anger once more. "Don't you change the cards….you change the cards, my baby~"  Riddle then placed his hands upon his hips, allowing his head to tilt and a malicious grin to grace his lips now. "'Cause you tried, 'cause you tried, now you're moving onnn~"  Riddle placed a hand onto his heart directly, mad gaze now locking right onto your own. "And I love you, ohhhh I love you, though you did me wrong���.'cause I'm the King of Hearts! The King of Hearts, my baby~" 

You attempt to turn around and dart back away past him- which you accomplish for a moment or so. But Riddle was already reemerging from behind another rose bush, making you jump in shock. "Never felt more and more alive...now that you're here~ you're the best I've ever had, yet you're asking where it all went wrong?" Your heart was racing so madly with confusion, it seemed like it may burst. Riddle stalked back towards you once more. He grabbed your wrist, now pulling you towards him. When you attempt to struggle, he simply smiles and allows a patch of a rose bush that was shaped like a tentacle to wrap around your waist instead. The tiny thorns held you in place as the scent of the roses themselves drifted up and into your nostrils. Riddle began to softly caress you, as though you in all your beauty were a rose yourself. His hands gently trailed up your waist, your arms, your neck… "I'm begging you to stay...I should just walk away. Take this sword from my heart, now I'm bleeding out~" Riddle allowed his hands to gently trail onto the back of your neck. Your pulse was quickening by the seconds given how close you were. Riddle's hands gently stroked the back of your neck. Soon, he leaned his head in towards your neck, softly smooching in a heart pattern. His eyes were still mad with a fiery anger yet a passion that you had never seen. "..I'm not the player in your game. I'm the King of Hearts...the King of Hearts, my baby~"  Riddle soon pulled away, now looking down into your eyes. He smirked upon spotting your bewildered expression. "'Cause I tried, oh I tried, but you're moving on~" Riddle's hands cupped your face and brought it towards his own. He allowed your head to settle itself against the side of his neck, the male releasing the tiniest of shudders at the sensation of your breath upon his neck. "..But I love you, ohhhhhhhh I love you, though you did me wrong...I'm the King of Hearts, my baby~" 

Riddle allowed a gloved finger to gently trail against your throat in a slow teasing manner- as though you were being beheaded. His singing soon stopped, his head tilting. "What's the matter, dear [Y/n]? Don't you enjoy your new Lord treating you with such gentleness? All are not as fortunate..ah, of course. You're a rule breaker. Allow me to nullify those urges." With that final growl, Riddle's lips met yours, his finger tilting your head up to him so he could achieve a better angle on you. His other hand cradled the back of your neck, his fingers gently stroking you adoringly. The Overblotted male's lips were rather hot in temperature, as though his prior anger and current passion had all shifted into them. They were also soft, though the kiss itself was a mixture of both gentleness with which you would smell the roses…but also with the ferocity of a King enforcing his will upon his subjects. Soon, Riddle separates, his eyes even more topsy turvy and filled with passion than before. 

"...Heads will indeed roll for your insolence...but maybe some hearts shall go along with it~"

((Hey hey! This is finally done! About as long as my Overblot!Leona x Reader piece! Lemme know if you wish to see a Part 2 to this one along with the Overblot!Jamil x Reader as well! Happy reading and possible simping💖 P.S. You get a cookie if you can guess the song which was referenced 👀

[lazarettta]

Misthios IV

Characters (Spartan!Reader x Mother Miranda)

Rating (T)

Word Count (3.4k)

Warnings (none I don't think)

You're up roaming around the castle and run into Miranda and Alcina.

It's been an exhausting but thrilling six months since you've gained the eye of this region's reigning ruler. Their Queen was ruthless as she was beautiful and you were quickly learning that she had a particular taste for blood that you haven't seen since your days in Sparta. Creative and cunning as she was, especially when it came to acts of revenge, but she took care of her kingdom and her people so long as they were loyal to her and her alone.

It was that last rule that forced you to discover just how cruel and destructive the mountains of Norway could be because you were tasked with chasing down a group of runaway slaves—as a punishment. This was different from your 'normal' punishments.

There was nothing special about these fucking slaves, they were just stupid enough to think it wise to steal from their Queen and then dare escape. It angered you so much that she'd send you on this quest when a small squadron of low ranked knights would've done fine.

It had taken you a week and two villages to finally catch up with them into the mountains. The conditions were harsher than what you were prepared for and you had to abandon half your gear and continue on foot. The cold was too much for your horse to handle, but he was old and you were sure to put him out of his misery before continuing on your hunt.

You'd caught them asleep in a cave a few miles away from a village that was tucked away into the mountain side. You purchased food and another horse, costing you all the silver you carried but it made your hunt easier and quicker. You hadn't been looking for the cave but a small fire through the thick of the trees caught your attention. Tying your new mare a distance away, you crept towards them, sticking to the tall grass and the shadows.

They'd all been sleeping so peacefully, even their so-called 'watcher'. It was almost too easy to just go and kill them quietly one by one...but Miranda had specific instructions for you to follow if you wanted her forgiveness. She wanted to hear them scream while she slept and that was exactly what you intended to deliver. You unsheathed one of your twin blades and with practiced ease, you swung right as the watcher’s eyes snapped open.

You were startled awake by a scream that you weren't sure if it was from your dream or if it was a real one. You sat up half way in the bed of the guest room you were put up in, leaning on your elbow ready to spring from beneath the sheets but nothing ever came. After another full five minutes of sitting and waiting with no result, you let yourself fall back onto the soft pillows and threw an arm over your eyes as they began to leak tears.

Nothing of sadness or the sort, you were simply exhausted—you were still in your clothing with your parka not too far away just in case you had to use the window for a quick escape. You even kept your boots on, even though it was too warm for you but you'd deal with it as you've been through more uncomfortable situations that couldn't even compare to simply being hot. Of course if you take off a few layers you'd be fine, but paranoia hasn't exactly been very kind to you in the past years...with good reason too. You hadn't died in over ten years and you planned to keep that streak going.

But even as those thoughts comforted you a bit, sleep evaded you—no longer finding you worthy of its pleasures and you just laid there sprawled out and tangled within the soft white linen sheets that were probably now dirty thanks to you. You didn't care. They probably had more somewhere.

Resigned to the fact that you'd probably never be able to go back to sleep, at least not any time soon, so pushed aside the heavy duvet and slipped out of the bed quietly. You moved towards the window but the only thing you could see was the few trees below and a land covered in blankets of undisturbed snow. A little further beyond the tree line, you saw smoke coming from the chimneys of the factory before you turned away from the view and left your room. You looked left and right of the hallway but there wasn't a sign of life to be found, not even that little maiden Alcina practically made your shadow. It was probably later than it actually felt and she was probably asleep...everyone probably was.

Checking your watch— ah, right. Miranda even took that. She took everything you could use as a weapon and it tickled you more than it annoyed you. Unsupervised, you can now take your time to feel your way around. You didn't get a chance to get a good look at everything before but now you did, and it was an opportunity to get to know the Lady of the castle. You'd long dismissed the thought that anything in this village was normal, it had more secrets and shadows than a horror book you guessed.

Walking through the halls of the second floor felt like a trip down memory lane—no particular region as most all castles were the same. Large and filled with fancy portraits and trinkets that could house and feed five families at a time. Carpet so plush and soft that you could feel it through your boots with each step. It absorbed your weight like a welcome home hug. Clearly Lady Alcina was a woman of finer things in life and that extended far outside of her wardrobe and preferred wines.

It just unnerved you how quiet everything was, a castle thing large and prosperous had to have staff minding it twenty four seven. Nonetheless, you finally came to the door that you recognized during your brief tour as the 'wine room'. Like everything else you'd come across, the door was finely made from dark red oak with gold trimmings—just like Alcina's stagecoach.

Without a second thought about it, you opened the door—simply with the intent of getting a better look at the wine collection the maiden mentioned during your tour. But that thought was cut short because the room wasn't as empty as the silence in the hallway led you to believe as you'd walked into a full conversation by two people; one you were hoping to avoid for a few days and the other you thought was asleep...or well away from your location. You were wrong on both accounts.

“Heisenberg is a blundering fool leading a pack of fleabags, Miranda. He is going to fail again!”

“And we don't have time to stress other options, especially that one! We're out of time already and—”

“Exactly we're out of time so just ask her—” you pushed the door open a little more and it creaked quietly.

They both turned to you and you stood frozen in the doorway, unsure of what to make of the scene in front of you or what you just overheard. Miranda and Alcina were sitting at the small table, well Miranda was, Alcina was sitting in one of her custom chairs a little further away and both women had two glasses filled with dark red wine. Alcina wasn't in her white dress anymore, instead she'd changed into a pair of dark slacks and deep red turtle neck and she was barefoot. A far cry from the regal dress she wore earlier but she still carried herself in the same manner.

You did your best not to think about how good Miranda looked without that damn mask on her face...even in those robes she still wore, Miranda was beautiful. Beautiful as the day you first met. You forced yourself to keep your attention on Alcina and not Miranda, who was now staring a hole into the side of your face like she was trying to will you into looking at her.

“Oh. Shit, I didn't know this room was occupied.”

Alcina glanced at Miranda briefly from behind her wine glass, her expression unreadable when she settled her eyes on you again, “Of course not, dear. Is everything alright?”

You cleared your throat, fighting the urge to look at Miranda because you could feel her trying to will your eyes in her direction, “No, actually I—”

You were interrupted by an ear piercing scream and high pitched laughter right behind her, on the verge of being hysterical. Lady Dimitrescu sighed heavily behind you and finished her wine before setting her glass down and rising to her full height.

“Please excuse me, it seems that my daughters are teasing the poor maids again.”

You started to comment that it didn't sound like it was teasing but you kept your mouth shut, knowing better than to stick your nose in the wrong place too soon—it never really turned out very well for you the first time. It would never cease to amaze you how fast and quiet Alcina moved despite her size, but it still baffled you that she hasn't ever gotten the doors to her own castle fixed to fit for her . But those thoughts were pushed to the far corners of your mind when the door clicked shut—leaving you alone in the room with Miranda, forcing you to acknowledge her now. You shoved your hands in your pockets and sighed, you weren't expecting to see her again so soon.

You still hadn't had time to get your shit together after the last time you two spoke, or more like argued back and forth. Easily falling into a pattern as if you hadn't been centuries apart. You still weren't sure how you were supposed to feel about that.

“Take a seat, (Y/n). Would you like a glass of wine?” Miranda broke the silence but she didn't break eye contact with you once she caught you eye, holding you as if she physically had her hands on your face. “We don't have to talk if you don't want to, (Y/n).”

“Oh, so now we're suddenly interested in what I want to do?”

“Yes, of course. Wine?”

You scoffed, rolling her eyes at her typical answer and you wanted to say no, you opened your mouth to do so but instead you were getting closer to the table she was sitting at. She poured you a glass of wine, and handed it to you. You raised an eyebrow, she couldn't have set it down for you? She insisted on handing it to you and the way Miranda was holding the glass left you no choice to place your hands over hers to take it from her. Those gold claw rings were ice cold against your skin and the edge of one nicked your skin but not deep enough to draw blood.

You had no idea what you wanted to say to Miranda, you weren't ready to talk about what you two needed to talk about but you weren't sure if you could sit here and do small talk with her over wine. It was so easy for you to get up and leave, maybe go back to your guest room and lock the door. So what was stopping you? Why was it difficult?

Miranda, who had been watching you intently, interrupted your rapid thoughts, “You always were a loud thinker, (Y/n).”

“Nothing interesting, trust me.”

“Oh I beg to differ,” Miranda chuckled, shifting in her chair slightly to angle herself towards you a little more. You sort of hated yourself for thinking how well she was pulling off the priestess look, “I could always tell what you were thinking even from a mile away. You were always quite the unique distraction.”

“You never complained before.”

“No,” she agreed, her voice dropping an octave or two lower, “though I doubt I ever will.”

You looked up, she didn't look away and you didn't know what to think. And for once, even if it was just for a moment, you saw a hint of uncertainty in her eyes.

“Miranda, what do you want? Why are you keeping me here?”

“Because we need to talk, (Y/n), to...clear the air as they say, I guess.”

“Yeah, okay, I got that part earlier,” you licked your suddenly dry lips, your nerves starting to buzz a little, “But that's not a good enough reason anymore.”

Miranda scoffed, actually rolling her eyes at you, “Why not? Closure heals the past. Doesn't it?”

“But what do you expect after that?”

“What do you?” she threw the ball back in your court as she refilled her own wine glass from a different bottle than what she used for your own, the wine she was using was a little darker and thicker. It didn't surprise you that the question was thrown back at you, she always did that when she was trying to keep the upper hand or get it.

But it didn't mean that the question wasn't a good one because what did you want after this? Would it even matter after all of this time? Have you ever forgiven her, really and truly moved on? Did she even care back then, did she care for you...or what you could do for her?

Miranda was watching you the entire time become lost in your thoughts, a trait you still carried with you. She picked up her wine glass and took a sip, her clear eyes taking you in while you were distracted enough to not notice her doing it so blatantly. You still looked the same as the last time she saw you, minus the murderous rage that had twisted your beautiful features that evening.

The modern world has touched many parts of you but your eyes still hold so much more than they did centuries ago. Being a warrior was now outdated and something of an historical myth but you still carried yourself as one, and Miranda could see new scars on your brown skin on the exposed skin she saw earlier on your neck and arms.

She'd been watching you for days before finally making herself known to you after going back and forth with herself during those agonizing days. Being far more irritable than she normally was and Miranda was positive that Lords Heisenberg and Moreau were quite sore with her at the moment. Well, Karl certainly would be. Seeing you made her angry...at first. Angry for the grief you left her with, the shatters you left her to pick up on her own.

Years of pent up thoughts and plans of revenge she'd enact when she got her hands on you came down to a single moment when she finally did get her hands on you and she couldn't do it. Miranda eyed your neck, where you should've still been bruised. She had you right where she needed you with one hand wrapped around your neck because you were so unsuspecting. It would've been so easy but she couldn't...so she knocked you out and threw you in a cell where she could keep a better eye on you. And perhaps no longer be so distracted from her work.

“Look who's thinking loud now.” you mumbled around the edge of your wine glass, finally taking a sip of the damn thing. Miranda wouldn't hesitate to bet that you assumed it was somehow poisoned even though you watched her open the bottle. “Good thoughts, I hope.”

Miranda hummed softly, “Do you really wish to know?”

You chuckled, and Miranda's eyes were drawn to the way your jaw clenched and unclenched when the wine hit your taste buds again, “With the way you were staring at my neck...it's not that hard to guess, Miranda.”

“You're only half right, my dear.” At your raised eyebrows, Miranda's smirk only widened, “My hands were wrapped around that strong neck again, but breaking it is far from my mind now .”

Your snort turned into a chuckle that was clearly infectious as Miranda joined you. Nothing was remotely that funny, if it was funny at all, but you were tired and the situation brought forth too many emotions for you, either of you to really process, and all you could was just...laugh.

Miranda was the first to sober up a bit though the smile never completely left her features. “Ah, and well... you know, it wouldn't do to try and kill the only other person on this wretched rock who knows me. Will it?”

You're very well the only person in this wretched world that will ever know the real me and still love me for it. Quite a miserable thought, isn't it?

You jumped when the door opened behind you and Alcina stepped into the room—you'd almost forgot where you were for a moment. Almost. Alcina took one look at the two of you, curious to find you actually still in the room much less sitting at the table sharing a glass of wine with Miranda. Especially with what she overheard earlier and how much tension you two create together.

Alcina knew that she interrupted something, probably something she had no business to but that did not stop her from sitting back down in her chair in her goddamn castle. And whatever drama that was happening within her territory was now her drama and she was going to get a front row seat. Alcina lit up another one of her cigarillos and pulled heavy before she released it in your direction.

“Running a business is quite the headache when no one else understands your vision, I swear. Don't have kids, (Y/n). They're messy and nothing but trouble.”

“Noted.” you forced a chuckle, not taking her bait but now you were trying to finish your wine as quickly as possible without seeming like you were trying to run.

“Well, how about it then, (Y/n)? Tell us a story, you couldn't have been a mercenary your entire life. Or have you?” You glanced at Miranda and saw that she was glaring at Alcina but the taller woman wasn't paying her any mind. And really, the only reason Miranda hasn't verbally intervened is because she was interested in your answer as well. Even if Alcina was asking just to poke at the situation for her own amusement.

“I've put away my shield and sword a long time ago,” you didn't bother to mention that you did keep them both in pristine condition just in case, “I've been enjoying the little things life has to offer.” lame. And a lie.

“Oh come now,” Alcina scoffed, not accepting your answer—it wasn't a very good one anyway, “That's—”

“Actually,” When it was clear that Miranda wasn't going to save you from this woman's nosiness (why would she?) You quickly drank the rest of the wine, it was really too sour for you, and rose from the chair. “I think I'll try to get some more sleep. Thanks for the wine and...yeah.” Could you be any more awkward?

Alcina was howling by the time the door slammed shut behind you and she took another pull from her cigarette stick, still paying no heed to Miranda's heated glare. “Oh, you're going to have to tie that one down if you want her to talk to you.”

“I will have your head if you stick your nose in my business again, Dimitrescu.”

“Then don't store your business in my castle.” Alcina shot back, meeting Miranda's glare head on but immediately conceded when she felt Miranda's growling through the vibrations of her glass in her hand that was still resting on the table. “Alright, alright...but you're always welcome to use my dungeons. Use chains though those biceps of hers could probably break through the ropes.”

“Alcina, that is enough!”

The Lady of the castle just laughed lightly until it tapered off into a pleasant hum around her famous Sanguis Virginis wine while watching Miranda readjust her face mask. Her eyes brighter than they have been the last few hours., Alcina pushed for one more question—deciding to risk Miranda's wrath, “How'd you ever let such a handsome creature slip between your fingers?”

Miranda sighed heavily, no pause in her strut to the door, “Egos and misunderstandings.” she was gone before the lock clicked into place.

I'm so sorry for being hella lazy, lol, I'll add the other chapters of this story today 😭😭😭😭

[thiswasinevitableid]

76. it’s my birthday and you just fucking ruined my party and I don’t even know you

Danbrey, sfw or nsfw, please!

Here you go! I went SFW on this one

“Wow, dude, this is so fancy.” Jake takes in the dining room of Yosemite Lodge, “look, napkins!”

“Jake, we have cloth napkins back home.” Dani smiles fondly; while she’s more interested in the location and the decor, she agrees with her brothers overall enthusiasm.

The rest of Amnesty Lodge, where Dani lives and works, pooled their resources to surprise her with a weekend trip to Yosemite for her twenty-fifth birthday. She would have been happy camping, but they even went to the trouble of booking rooms in the main lodge and scheduling her a birthday dinner in the restaurant that looks out onto the valley.

Mama whistles at the menu from her seat at the head of the table, “damn, this is a good lookin dinner.”

Dani picks up the single sheet of paper, the silver writing informing her the meal with consist of a summer salad, shrimp scampie, and a strawberry rhubarb tart for dessert. When she glances across the table, Barclay is smiling down into his water glass.

“Oh my god, did you request a specific menu just for me?”

Her friend nods, blushing a little, “Head chef is an old friend from my line cook days.”

“Aw, you guys.” She sips the fancy cider Barclay ordered for the table, “you didn’t have to do all this.”

“You ain’t had a real party in years; seemed time to fix that.” Mama’s about to say something else when the fire alarm blares through the room and a server asks that everyone please exit through the side doors into the courtyard.

“Probably just a false alarm.” Barclay leans against a decorative rock.

“Uh, dudes? I smell smoke.”

Dani cranes her neck, tracks the path of the curling smoke through the lights from the windows to the main meeting room on the bottom floor of the hotel. A woman about her age, dressed entirely in red and black with, “The Lady Flame” emblazoned on her sparkly jacket, is talking and gesturing rapidly with disgruntled staff.

Two minutes later, the same woman steps onto the lawn with a sheepish smile.

“Hi everyone! It’s safe to go back in now. I, um, there was a tiny accident with some flashpaper. I think. Anyway, point is, I’m super sorry and there’s no more fire so please come enjoy my show. Oh, but, um, we have to move to the dining room due to some, um, ash.”

Just as she says this, one of the servers whispers in Barclays ear.

“Fuck. Sorry gang, sounds like we gotta postpone until tomorrow; whatever party booked ms fireball over there is gonna take up the whole restaurant.”

Dani sighs, resigning herself to a night of vending machine dinner as they head back inside. Then a hand settles on her arm and she’s locking eyes with the person who just ruined her evening.

“Hey, I always ask the cutest girl in the audience to be my assistant for the next bit. Do you want to-”

She pulls her arm away, “Yeah, hard pass, I’m not in whatever group decided to book you. I’m the person who’s birthday is getting turfed for your party.”

The magician cringes, “EEsh, I’m so sorry, I’ll, um, I’ll just.” She steps back, eyes glued to her black boots. As Dani continues into the lodge, she swears she hears the same voice go, “aw beans.”

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

The spring sunshine feels perfect, the breeze is gentle, and there are literal bluebirds calling around her. Dani feels like a dang disney princess as she naps on a rock near one of the meadows.

Something--a chipmunk, she assumes--munches the grass below her.

“Dr Harris Bonkers, no! This is a national park and I’m not letting my only son go to jail for vandalism.”

Dani rolls onto her side in time to see the magician from last night scooping a massive, orange rabbit from the ground. When she straightens enough to notice she’s not alone, the woman freezes.

“Um. Hi. Again.”

“Hi.” Not feeling like rehashing last night, she studies the rabbit, “should he really be running around out here?”

“Not even remotely. He was supposed to stay in my room, but he gnawed his way out of his carrier, hopped onto the windowsill, and decided to bounce when he saw all the plants out here.” She cautiously sits on the edge of the rock, rabbit in her lap, “I really am sorry about last night. I never used to have problems during my shows, but lately it’s like my flashpaper has a freaking mind of its own. I was kinda hoping it wouldn’t screw with anybody’s plans but mine.”

“It’s fine.” Dani shrugs, “we’re just going to do a dinner re-do tonight.”

The woman bites a matte black lip, “Could I, um, make it up to you?”

“How?”

“Well, it’s your birthday, right? You’re supposed to spend your birthday doing things you like, so I could, like, keep you company while you do them?”

It would be nice to have a hiking buddy. Mama is taking a well-deserved nap, Barclay is off for a swim, and Jake found some rock climbers to hang with. And while the Lady Flame looked good last night, today she’s downright gorgeous. The dyed-red streaks in her curly, black hair, the freckles, black shorts that make her butt look incredible, all of it adds up to someone Dani wouldn’t mind spending the day with.

“Do you have shoes you can hike in?”

She kicks up one leg, showing off her Doc Martens, “I once walked five miles in these with no problems.”

“Great. Let’s get the doctor” she rubs the rabbit’s ears, “somewhere safe and get on the trail.”

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

The hike’s only three and a half miles, but it’s taking them a long time to complete it. Not because they’re slow, but because Aubrey (as the Lady Flame calls herself) keeps stopping to look at or point out any interesting thing that catches her eye. It’s adorable.

Dani likes when she points out plants, because then she can show off a little.

“Dang, you really know your plants.” Aubrey stoops to take a picture of some Scarlet Monkeyflower.

“I run the teaching garden out back of the Lodge. Uh, Amnesty Lodge, where I live, not this one.”

“Coooool. I keep thinking about making Dr. Harris Boners a little garden when I finally find a place to stay put for awhile, but everything is always about how to keep bunnies out of your garden.”

“I mean, they can really trash it if you’re not careful.”

“I believe it, Dr. Harris Bonkers can take out a whole patch of rug in, like, ten minutes.”

“Herbs would probably be okay, clover too. I guess it depends on how much space you have.”

“Probably not much” Aubrey holds out a hand to help her across a creek, “traveling magicians don’t make much.”

Their talk turns to Aubrey’s life on the road, and her various misadventures trying to transport a fifteen pound rabbit on public transit. When they reach the waterfall that marks the trails end, they slip off their shoes and socks to dip their feet in the nearby pond, shoulders touching as they compare notes on growing up in sometimes stressful family situations.

It’s well after lunchtime when they get back, so they sit in the meadow and split a bag of chips, shooing away several overly ambitious squirrels. Mama joins them for a bit, and Dani smiles when she notices how quickly the older woman takes to Aubrey. Mama can never turn down a stray.

Dani’s already scheming for how to spend the last day of her vacation with Aubrey when the magician turns down her invitation to dinner. She’s a little disappointed, but Aubrey promises she’ll see her later.

Her birthday dinner redux is halfway into its second course when the lights at the front of the room brighten and the ones above her dim.

“And now, as an added, surprise treat for this evening's meal, the magnificent Lady Flame is here to dazzle you all with her astounding feats of magic!” The server at the edge of the room gives a thumbs up and Aubrey bounds into view, smile glittering brighter than her outfit.

To Dani’s delight, Aubrey is an amazing magician; her tricks are interesting, her patter is the same funny, energetic pace that their conversations were this afternoon, and her assistant is adorable. When she declares she needs a volunteer for her next trick, she’s holding her hand out to Dani before anyone else can raise theirs.

The trick turns out to be picking cards and showing them to the audience, though Dani notices Aubrey devotes as much sleight of hand to brushing their fingers together as she does to her act.

“And now, esteemed audience, I will produce a flower from my lovely assistant's hair!”

Dani smiles, then claps along with everyone else as Aubrey produces a spring of Larkspur from thin air. Literally, Dani cannot for the life of her tell where she was hiding it. Or how she was able to get what Dani said was her favorite flower on such short notice.

Aubrey finishes up her act (and doesn’t set anything on fire) to thunderous applause, and Dani spots Mama leaning over to whisper something to Barclay, who nods thoughtfully. It’s only after the magician has taken her last bow that Dani has a horrible realization; Aubrey went to all that trouble to make her birthday dinner memorable, and she didn’t get to eat any of it.

Her white sandals sink into the carpet as she carries a plate down to Aubrey’s room. When her new friend opens the door, she’s between worlds; sparkly jacket on top, red pajama pants on the bottom.

“I brought you some cake. Or, uh, I guess it’s a tart.” She holds out the plate and Aubrey takes it, cheeks going pink, “since you didn’t get the rest of the dinner.”

“Thanks” Aubrey steps back so Dani can join her in the room, “it’s chill that I didn’t get to join you all; I wanted to make up for ruining your dinner last night.”

“You already did way more than that. Aubrey, this was the nicest day I’ve had in months, and most of that is because I got to spend it with you.”

“I dunno, feel weird getting cake from a thing I crashed.” Aubrey is fidgeting with her bracelets, blushing harder every time she looks up and finds Dani still smiling at her.

“Can I give you something else instead?” Dani takes a half-step forward.

“Sure! What-” Aubrey’s words fade into a little sigh as Dani wraps her arms over her shoulders. Then her back bumps into the nightstand as Aubrey throws herself into a kiss.

“Hey” Dani teases, nibbling her ear as Aubrey holds her tighter, “you messed up my big reveal.”

“Aw dang, guess I’ll have to make it up to you.” Aubrey slips her hands down to the small of her back, “how does even more making out sound?”

Dani pulls her towards the bed, heart buzzing with warmth at the sight of her smile and the touch of her hands, “like the best birthday gift ever.”

[estellaelysian]

All that you left me - Part - 8

From With Every Heartbeat

The Red Dress

This is angsty and deals with mentions of major character death. Reader discretion is advised.

Parts 1 to 7 - Catch up here

Her fingers absently stroked at the soft, flimsy material of her dress. She was never a dress kind of girl who wished for soft, shimmery gowns with intricate styles and embroideries. Think more jeans, tee or a hoodie and boots, that was her.

The first time she wore a proper dress was to prom. She had immediately decided it wasn’t for her. The second time was with Dakota at the SBC student film festival, and then for the hospital prom.

But she didn’t mind it then. Dakota loved seeing her in that dress and it made him happy.

She was glad to see him happy.

So she didn’t mind wearing a second dress for him at the prom.

But now, as she sat with her mom at the hospital gala, wringing her fingers and hands, with a permanent smile plastered on her face, it wasn’t the same. She hated this dress. It didn’t fit like before; it was too loose on her body.

She wasn’t willing to come do the gala. Though she had continued working at the hospital, that was for herself, to keep her mind straight.

But now, it was dulled and unfocused as various doctors, dignitaries and other delegates made speeches about the future of the hospital, various programs for the betterment of patients and Hope Springs, her mind wandered elsewhere in the night.

The room around her remained too stark for her to forget easily. Everything about this gala was stultifying, and Amber felt it even more so, the information being too much to be processed by her already full mind. And yet, she had managed to memorize every little detail that surrounded her. The blinding lights which made it impossible to see outside the huge, dark windows. The glass and silverware that reflected brilliant squares of light. The damask tablecloths, obscured by elbows and disarranged glasses, the gradually flushing cheeks of the guests, her mother’s silver profile unsoftened by the light, the small talk … it was all too much.

Stressful. And exhilarating. And terrifying.

She understood now.

Placed under the spotlight for pitiful glances, soft murmurs that ran through the staff when they saw her … it suffocated her.

The pace of her thoughts had sharpened her senses, her perception of both sound and time. Everything felt too bright and too detailed for her to not have a headache, and yet, she felt fine. At one point she knew that her mom had urged her to eat, but it did not register with her until after her full plate was removed by a solicitous waiter, because everything said to her had to permeate the thick walls of an isolation cell that had closed in on her, a glass box of sorts. The room was filled with people, and yet she was utterly alone. Within the thick walls that separated her entirely from everyone else in the room, adrenaline thundered through her, urging her again and again to stand up and walk out.

Her dress shimmered under the light as she shifted in her seat, and she hated it even more. She shouldn’t have worn it, she decided immediately. The rose color felt too much on her pale skin.

Her mother threw a concerned glance in her direction as the waiter removed the pudding plate. Unfortunately, he had noticed she hadn’t eaten anything and asked if she wanted something else. She just shook her head for him and gave a tight smile for her mother before returning to stare at her hands which were clasped in her lap. She laced her fingers together tightly, a desperate attempt to control her growing anxiety, to make herself as small and unnoticeable as she could in this room of strangers. She did not want anyone to notice her inner turmoil, but guessed it was all too evident on her face, because of which, she forced another small smile.

She needed to go outside. She needed air.

She had sat patiently through the dinner and the speeches. She deserved an interlude.

As silently as she could, she slipped from the room, trying to get away, as far away as she could, to get a fresh breath of air.

It only took her a few minutes to get to the rooftop, and she sat there, her legs dangling over the inches wide ledge, filling herself with deep breaths of the clean, cool air.

Dakota wouldn’t have wanted her there. He would’ve wrapped her arm around her and eased her away from the edge.

He would’ve murmured to her, comforted her, kissed her.

But he wasn’t here now, when she needed him the most.

His absence was a gaping hole in her being, no matter how much every one tried to deny it and tell her otherwise.

She pulled out her phone and opened a picture of him grinning at the camera, his hair pulled up by the wind into streamers that stood up from his head. He looked funny. Then came a photo of theirs taken at Boston Common. She was tanned and smiling, her arm around him, he leaning his head on her shoulder. It was him who shinned beside her usually, but they were both trying to fake smiles that day. She because Gracie had died, and he because he knew. Then came the photos in which they sported the ‘Hollywood look’, she wearing the dress she hated now, tucked under his arm, as he glowed from his victory.

She could still feel him beside her. It was a good day. A great one actually.

He said he loved her, didn’t he?

She wanted it back.

If this was love, it was terrible. Why did people seek it out? He felt this pain way when the cancer returned, and she remembered holding him as he cried about it.

Love was waiting for an inevitable wound, and then praying for it to heal someday.

Both of them had been wounded after all.

And no one could stop it.

Somebody tell me how I am supposed to feel.

She stared at his smiling face.

It would be time to go back soon. Soon, but not now.

Now, she could still cry and sob and not pretend to be fine when she was not.

She probably would never be.

**********

Sorry this took so long guys ... But anyway, thank you all for reading if you made it this far.

Also you guys, if you want me to write some fluffy one shots and have any suggestions, feel free to drop by, please.

Tagging: @tenaciouslandvoidgiant @choicesaddict5 @starrystarrytrouble @dakotasteach @kodysteach @vishhhi @dakotasteachforlife

[kpopisthereasonihavenolife]

Kim Taehyung/Reader [F]

Genre: royal au, magic au, hopelessly romantic, fluff, dashes of angst, taehyung is a brat but in a fun way, y/n is babie, could kinda be considered love at first sight? 

Warning(s): toxic royality (the king), brief mentions of isolation/selling of servants, one mean lady who whacks y/n with a dowel rod

Words: 8.2k

Series | One-shot | Two-Shot | Drabble | [Rated: T ]

Summary: You were born with magic. Born by two perfectly normal human parents, you were born in a bright light that others considered cursed. With your father walking out and your mother abandoning you, you were sold to the royal palace in the Lisha Kingdom who had heard of your magic.  You were handed over to them not as a person, but as a prisoner.  At the age of 5, the king placed you in magic binding items and placed a mask over your mouth, keeping your cursed words of sorcery locked away.  

Now, his eldest son who had been living abroad from far off kingdoms to the seven seas- learning and experiencing the world as he knew it- returns to the palace to take his place as the crowned prince and Lisha’s future king.  What he can’t seem to wrap his head around, however; is the beautiful servant girl who is always wearing a mask and no matter how much he talks to her, she never talks back.  

a/n: so, this is something I started late last year and while at the time, i was super excited to start it, as time passed I let it sit and then when I came back to it, I had no idea what on earth to do with it. So, instead of pressuring myself into something I wouldn’t be happy with, I dusted up the draft I had and I am posting this as an open? unfinished? piece.  I have no future intentions of continuing it, even if the ending is so open with room for questions, I simply don’t have the answers. I’m trying to be more fair to myself when it comes to my work and not pressuring myself into writing a story I won’t be happy with. That goes along with not stressing out either. Nonetheless! I hope that what I did get completed was worth the read!  ily <3 

“I sure hope you are not planning on sneaking off; now are you, Your Highness?” The prince froze mid-step as he was previously attempting to leave his carriage entourage, but got caught by the temporary attendant to make sure he got back to the palace in the process.  “We only just entered the capital, what could you possibly be going off to do?” 

The platinum-haired prince turned around with an over-dramatic swing and pitiful stomp of his feet on the carriage step.  Built with soft yet sturdy muscles from his days traveling and sailing at sea, his tanned skin was the perfect shade to swoon anyone who looked at him.  Eyes big and blue in color- a rare trait to have such bright hair and eyes in the royal family. 

“I haven’t been home in years!” The prince countered with a pitched fit.  “I want to explore before I go to the castle.  What’s so wrong with that?” 

His attendant only shook his head.  “I see your time abroad spoiled you rotten.” The prince inwardly scowled.  It did not.  “You need to head to the palace and greet your father- the king- immediately.  He is no patient man.” 

The prince rolled his eyes.  He highly doubted his father had changed.  Even when he was a small child and still lived with his father in the palace walls, he could remember his strict and blunt father.  The stereotype of royalty was upheld to a new level when the focus was put on Lisha’s king. The prince stepped back into the carriage interior before plopping himself across the plush bench.  Arms folded behind his head and one of his boot-clad feet kicked up across from him on the opposite bench as he huffed.  

“Prince Taehyung! Your attitude is rather uncalled for.” 

“Why stand around bickering about it?  I thought we had to go see the king immediately?”  Taehyung mocked as his leg that hung off the bench bounced against the velvet in some unpatterned rhythm that played the tune of annoyance.  The attendant kept his itching argument to himself remembering it wasn't just some bratty kid he was talking to, but the crown prince of Lisha.  

He just bowed his head before shutting the carriage door.  Soon, Taehyung jostled across his bench when the carriage took off moving forward.  The sound of clopping hooves paired with the sound of wheel crunched dirt and stone. 

An impatiently sat hour later and Taehyung had been taken into the palace ground, met with his father- as pleasant as that was- for the smallest amount of time used for a visit. Taehyung questioned if it was truly necessary in the first place and then was promptly sent off.  Not having nowhere specifically to go to other than his quarters later, he just wandered.  

Walking around with dark trousers and a shirt so white and worn it was nearly sheer and obviously two sizes too big as it’s thin fabric puffed as it stayed tucked into his bottoms.  The summer was much harsher inland than it was out in the open seas and he can say he had quite the distaste for warm weather. 

As he wandered and familiarized himself with his home again, he heard gossip from this way and that.  Some about royal unfairness- a fair complaint if Taehyung was honest.  Other about pains that began to come with their growing age.  And a lot about ‘her’- she never being named.  From what he could gather form just passing words of his eavesdropping, someone was employed as a castle servant and not well-liked by her peers.  Intrigued, Taehyung finally had a goal in all his aimless walking. 

Put his charisma and people skills to work and find the ‘not-very-well-liked’ servant girl. 

It was noon by the time Taehyung felt like giving up already.  He had spent hours walking around in circles and even talking to a few staff circles but turned up empty-handed to figure out just who this unliked girl was.  He stood on the second story of the west wing’s balcony as the summer air was as stagnant as a puddle of warm water.  Feeling his sweat roll down his back, he let out a small yelp when something touched the back of his neck. 

Jumping back and away to his right, he held his neck and looked to see what touched him.  Expecting to see some sort of critter on the ground, he instinctively looked down.  Instead of a rodent or bug, he saw a pair of feet.  Looking up, he was soon making eye contact with a pair of large- rather pretty- eyes.  

His eye shot back down to your feet. Wearing no shoes, but two anklets around each ankle, you were already an odd one to Taehyung.  Looking you over, you looked normal, yet not.  Dressed in a skirt and corset with a long-sleeved worn maids shirt, it looked like palace work clothing.  You wore no gloves as others did and wore a set of two bracelets around your wrists that matched the ones on your ankles.  Hair pulled back off your neck completely to try and outwit the heat, Taehyung looked at the mask covering the lower half of your face. 

Looking down at your hands, he saw you held a small handkerchief.  

“So that’s what touched me!” He exclaimed, letting out a breath of air- relieved it wasn’t a critter after all.  Even with all his time out in the open, he still got freaked out at the initial idea of anything creepy-crawly running around on his body.  “Sorry for the noise, I hope I didn’t scare you?” He asked, apologizing for how he scampered away from you so suddenly.  

You just smiled as your eyes pushed up and shook your head.  Taehyung tilted his head a fraction. 

“You’re… not a talker are you?” You shook your head again.  “What is it? Shy or something?”  You shook your head again before you pulled something from a small pouch that was strapped to your side.  A small little notepad and a worn, wooden pencil.  Scribbling on it with speed to impress the best writer, you were soon holding your notebook in front of Taehyung’s face. 

‘I’m not allowed to talk.’

“Not… allowed? Who made that rule up, that’s just ridiculous.” He breathed out.  

‘It’s true!’ You wrote as you pointed at it for emphasis as he could see your cheek puff from under your mask.  

“But, you can talk, can’t you?  Just not allowed to?” You nodded. Taehyung watched as you started scribbling again.  

‘I haven’t seen you around here before.  Are you visiting the capital?’

“Oh, no- nothing like that.”  Taehyung rubbed his neck.  “You see, I’m actually-” 

“Y/n!”  You jumped as you whirled around and saw an older servant at the corner of the balcony- not too far from you and Taehyung.  She stomped her way around the corner and to your side, lightly swatting your bare leg with a thin, wooden dowel.  “I’m certain you haven’t finished your tasks!  You cannot delay, the king expects results and you- cursed child- are hindering them!”  You bowed in silent fret before straightening your back.  

You turned to Taehyung as quickly as possible, placed your handkerchief in his open hand and pointed to his neck.  You fanned yourself as if telling him ‘it’s hot, take care of yourself’ before you rushed off with another thwack of wood to your calf.  

Taehyung didn’t even have the chance to get your name- although he heard the servant woman say it.  He couldn’t tell you his name, or who he was and here he stood.  On the second floor balcony with your white and pink embroidered handkerchief.  He wasn’t even able to scold the servant for whacking you with a dowel before she scampered off behind you.  It must’ve stung on your skin. 

Taehyung was a young man, but as he remembered you writing on your book and how your eyes looked, he chuckled like a child in puppy love. He looked at the handkerchief and folded it neatly before tucking it into the pocket of his trousers.  As long as he had that one piece of cloth, he would see you again anyways.  He had to return it, he was a gentleman after all. 

Xxx

The next morning, Taehyung snuck out of his room before any palace official came to usher him off to his royal princely duties.  Walking around in a pair of loose silk trousers and a black button-down of the same fine silk fabric, he padded around in the gardens. The fresh air reminded him of his time outside the palace, he already missed the memories of days prior. 

His steps halted when he saw someone crouched by a line of rose beaded shrubs.  A pair of shears in their hand as they snipped roses from the bush and placed them into the basket at their side.  He smiled when he saw their bare skin and anklets.  He walked up behind you before speaking. 

“What are you doing out here?” You jumped, shears falling out of your grip and stumbling back onto your rear-end.  Looking up and behind your shoulder, you saw Taehyung biting back laughter. Instead of rolling your eyes, he could see them bend into crescents and your cheeks push up under your mask.  Lifting the small notepad and pencil at your side up into your lap, you begin scribbling. 

Taehyung moved to your side and squatted down at your left.  You were soon showing him the notepad. 

‘Good morning.’ 

Taehyung waved cutely at you.  “Good morning back.  Now, about the shrub?” He pointed to the flowers before you started writing again. 

‘I heard the prince came into the castle after a really long time yesterday.  I was going to place a basket of flowers as a welcome home for him outside his room.  Anonymously of course.’ 

“Oh? So, you don’t know who the prince is?” You shook your head. “Well!” He perked up.  “I’ve heard he’s pretty handsome.  Better watch out, cute girls like you could totally be his type.”  You just shook your head, denying his little outburst as he just giggled at you.  Taehyung hopped closer and picked up your sheers.  “So, how do you know which ones to cut?” 

You pointed to a bloomed, vibrant rose.  You motioned with your hand to find bright, big petaled stems.  Following your pointed finger to each bloom he should cut, he snipped roses and placed them into the basket you didn’t yet know was actually for him. 

When you finished,  you took your shears and the basket and stood.  Taehyung offered to walk you back to your room before your royal servant duties began.  You allowed him to and you both were on your way.  Taehyung did most- all- of the talking. You tried expressing conversation with your hand waves and gestures.  Taehyung had a bit too much fun trying to decipher them like a game of charades. 

“Hey,” he called when the two of you just walked in silence. “Why can’t you talk?” You looked down and pulled your notepad out. 

‘The king hates my voice.’

“Why?  You're always barefoot and always wear a mask? Are you sick?” 

‘No.’  You started to write, but scribbled something out and wrote something else instead.  ‘I don’t think I can tell you.’ 

“Is it a secret?” 

‘Well, no.  But, sometimes it’s hard to admit.’

Taehyung nodded and placed his hand on your head.  “Sorry I asked.  I didn’t mean to upset you.” You only shook your head.  “I look forward to seeing your flowers after you’ve arranged them.” You rose your brow before you pointed at your room door, arriving at your room finally. 

He let you in and practically danced back to his room.  He stopped in his tracks and pressed his fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose realizing he once again neglected to tell you his name. 

“Next time!” He shouted to no one, promising himself that next time he wouldn’t forget as he marched back to his room. 

Xxx

You entered your room that you shared with another servant girl.  She often got along with you and didn’t alienate you as others did.  Walking in, she was already dressed and awake.  She was quick to ask you where you’ve been as you’re not normally allowed to go anywhere without permission or supervision.  Royal orders. 

You showed her the basket to her before shoving your note in your face.  

‘Do you know some guy with light hair who is allowed to walk around the castle in pajamas?’ 

“What? Some nut-job in his pajamas?” You nodded, lightly flapping your notepad at her for calling him a nut-job.  “You’re making it up in a fit of loneliness.  Oh god,” you huffed, throwing your notepad down before moving to sit and place flower after flower from your basket to a glass, aqua vase.  “The silent treatment, huh?” She teased.  She soon left to start her morning. 

You waited.  Unable to do anything until the sun began to finally rise.  The king refused to let you wander the castle unless it was daytime.  You had planned to finish the flowers and hoped your supervisor would allow you to deliver them to the prince’s door before your work started.  You sighed, doubting it would happen.  You soon dressed in your work clothes, took the small vase and left- deciding to take a trip to the prince’s quarters first then meet your supervisor. 

Trotting down the hall, you rushed to place the flowers and then run back to your room to wait for your supervisor, hoping not to be caught.  Though, luck didn’t seem to be favorable with you in the grand scheme of things. 

“Y/n!” The voice of the old woman that is your superior echoed behind you.  You immediately stopped in your tracks, slowly turning around to meet her angry stomps approaching you with a glare that pinned you down.  You unconsciously held the vase closer to your chest.  “What in the world are you doing? Heading down the royal halls of our royal family. On top of it all, unauthorized!” You shrunk under her scolding. 

“What’s going on here?” A voice calmly addressed behind you.  Looking back, it was Taehyung behind you.  He had changed his clothes since earlier.  Black pants with a white long-sleeved shirt and black vest.  Hair now parted and brushed.  His fingers decorated in rings and ears pierced with small hoops.  Black boots covering his feet. 

“Ah-” your superior stuttered.  “I- your highness!” you whipped your head back to the old woman.  “I apologize for the commotion so early! Y/n here was simply disobeying a set of very specific rules and-” 

“I am only hearing excuses.” His voice was sharp in contrast to the warm way he spoke to you earlier on.  He grabbed your elbow lightly, getting your attention.  He smiled at the red peeking out from under your mask.  “You were going to give those flowers to the prince, yes?” You slowly nodded.  “Well, can I have them?” 

You looked at the flower vase and then back up. You turned around in three clumsy, unsure steps before presenting them to Taehyung.  He laughed lowly, graciously removing the vase from your grip into his. 

“Thank you, Y/n.  I, Taehyung of Lisha, truly appreciate it.” You nodded.  He called for your ear as he shot your supervisor a look of ‘stay back and hush’. “Come meet me later, I want to talk more is possible. Okay?” He whispered as you nodded again before you were pulled off to finally start work. 

Taehyung took the flowers you gave to him inside his room, placing them in the sunlight on the small side table beside his bed.  He laughed smittenly as he poked at the flowers' soft petals.  At least he was finally able to tell you his name this time. 

Xxx

Taehyung had forgotten how suffocating it could be to be inside the palace.  It may be grand and large in scale and size, but the constant hovering and directions as to what and what not to do as prince kept him clicking his tongue.  He’d find himself muttering prayers of patience to get through just the formalities.  He may have been gone for years, but he didn’t forget how to be princely.  

He crossed paths with his father a few times in the halls, only stopping to lower his head to him in respect as he just kept on going, his attendant in tow.  Taehyung hissed at his father’s back each time- not even granted a nod in return.  He wasn’t sure why, but since knowing that his father hated your voice, he grew ten times more annoyed towards him.  

In fact, you occupied many of his thoughts of the day.  He just met you, yet he seemed undeniably drawn to you for reasons he wasn’t sure of.  Was it because you were dressed so differently than the other servants? Or perhaps you had certain guidelines and rules to follow under the king's directions? 

He was currently sitting in the private library with his temporary attendant as they droned on about something or another. Taehyung- much to his aides jargon- sat slumped forward, elbow on the small round table he sat at and cheek cupped in his palm. Utterly bored, he finally found a chance to speak among a minuscule break in his attendants lecture. 

“What is the story behind the serving maid with the mask?” He voiced finally. The question brought his lecturing aide to silence before they cleared their throat. 

“Your Highness, you needn’t worry-” 

“I’m expecting a proper answer,” Taehyung fought. “Do not run me in circles. I will just simply ask about her again.” His eyes kept staring off to nowhere, focusing on nothing in particular. His jaw snapping shut each time he spoke as his palm pushed into his chin from slouching. He heard his aide sigh. 

“As you wish.” Taehyung almost tutted with a snide smirk with his clear victory over the barely started discussion- but he refrained. “She was sold to His Majesty as a child.” Taehyung’s heart dropped to his gut, although his face was as calm and unchanging as before. He has had much practice in keeping a bored expression to hide his true emotions from others. “She was sold on the condition the king suppress her abilities because her parents simply did not want a cursed child.” 

Taehyung lifted his head to his aide for the first time that afternoon. “Excuse me? Abilities and curses? Are you pulling my leg after I advised you not to?” In actuality, he knew what his attendant was referring to. Magician’s and sorcery. 

An exceedingly rare breed of human. He's met only a few before in the past during his travels abroad, but the way this attendant spoke about you was angering him. Pushing him towards a sour mood. Like mentioning your beyond normal abilities would cause some sort of bad karma. 

“No, Highness. That servant girl is under constant surveillance and strict restriction as ordered by His Majesty- your father. Every accessory she wears is a restriction.” Taehyung remembers how you explained that the king hated your voice. His brow dipped. His father hated your voice because you had magic? No, that can’t be it. The king must be frightened of your voice- the voice that should be free to recite spells because it was your birthright. 

“And that woman’s mask?” Taehyung asked. “What of that?” 

“It is a final resort to keep her silent. She cannot use or speak of magic so long as she wears it. That is the royal order. She is not even able to remove it herself, only royal blood may do so.” Taehyung’s brow ticked back up. Only the Royal bloodline can remove it, huh? He bit back a snide smirk. 

“Interesting,” he mumbled. The attendant was pleased to finally drop the topic altogether. 

The prince continued to partially listen to his ‘catch up’ lessons on palace do’s and don'ts; however, in the grand scheme of things he was always wondering when or if he’d get the chance to run into you again somewhere. He felt guilty for being the son of the man who is keeping you from reaching your true potential as a sorceress. He was the only son of Lisha’s king and you were his caged animal.  

The magic users he had spoken to before in his past had always told him the same thing when he asked how magic felt. It felt like the ocean breeze at dawn and that breeze turned into a cold, harsh storm when the magic was gone.  Without magic they felt suffocated. The torment of magic repression was enough to bring some to the brink of insanity. However, he wondered how you felt about it inside. Restricted for so long, were you in pain? 

Did you even know what magic felt like? Could you remember from your childhood before it was pushed down into the pit of your stomach and smothered? 

The moment he had the opportunity to slip away from his forced shadow, he promptly took it with haste.  Ducking out and rushing off, he was able to camp out in an alcove before the coast was clear for him to wander again. He walked with a sense of near urgency as he hoped to run into you as he’s done before. Or perhaps meet his father in the halls, that would suffice as well. 

Heading down to the royal halls where the royal families rest in their private rooms, Taehyung quickly slipped into the room that used to belong to his mother and former Queen of Lisha.  

Just the air in the room and how she had decorated it with vases and painting in the past brought the weight on Taehyung’s chest off. The room had been untouched just as he had wished- a sort of tomb of remembrance in her honor. She had not lived past 40 before illness and improper- obviously botched- treatment took hold of her. Leaving her son behind, he still missed her every morning when he woke to the sun. 

He opened the permanently unlocked wardrobe and wooden trunk in the room. Revealing dresses, corsets, hair pieces, accessories, jewels and nightwear with the occasional pair of trousers- however improper for a lady they were. The trunk had shoes that he could vaguely remember dancing on with his mother leading him when he was smaller. 

He trifled around before he pulled a pair of open top, black shoes from the trunk that could easily be worn without crafting the ankle- or anything around it.  For himself he grabbed a ruby earring that hung from his lobe as soon as he placed it on himself. It bounced off his jawline with each turn of his head.  This was his mother’s favorite color- ruby red. He smiled into the mirror that hung on the wardrobe door and hoped his mother would be proud of the man he grew up to be. 

Shutting everything back up, he grabbed the flats and left the room. He rushed around and asked any servant or guard he could find if they knew of your whereabouts. He was in the midst of asking yet another when his attention was grabbed from behind. 

“Highness, are you searching for Y/n?” He turned at the mention of your name. Not one servant he had spoken to had addressed you by name but this woman who approached him did without wavering. Young and with kind eyes. “Unfortunately, she’s wrapped up in chores until this evening. Her curfew is at sundown, so she won’t have any time for much extra activity.” She explained to him. “However, if you need to pass a message to her, I’d be happy to deliver. She and I share a room in the servants' wing, so it’d be no trouble in the slightest.” 

Taehyung’s eyes lit up. At least you weren’t completely isolated from the rest of the castle. You seemed to have a kind enough roommate- at least at surface level. It was always possible this woman with the kind eyes was lying to look good in front of him- the prince who obviously had no ill will towards you. 

“Would you? If I find out you haven’t, I’ll be very upset with you.” He lightly teased, only half meaning it the underlined threat of ‘don’t do what I ask and a royal fit is in your future’. She simply nodded. Taehyung lifted the flats into view “I’m tired of seeing her run around shoe-less because the castle won’t provide her proper shoes that don’t encase the ankle. These should help.” 

Something in the woman’s eyes shined. Like someone being kind towards you was something so asinine and rare. She gratefully took the shoes from Taehyung’s grasp as she smiled down at them so purely it almost seemed she would weep. She nodded to herself before she looked back to the prince, glee written on her features. 

“May I tell her the prince gifted these? Or shall I be anonymous with it?” Her voice perked, almost seemingly excited to deliver your new ‘royal’ shoes. 

Taehyung smiled. “Please do tell her it was me. I’d like the credit for the safety of her feet,” he chided. She nodded and before she could run off to put them in their shared room, Taehyung stopped her. “Oh, what was your name? I never caught it.” 

She smiled at the prince.  “I am Akina, Highness.” Taehyung nodded to her.  He wanted to learn as many names and faces as possible of his servants of the castle. Unlike his father, he wanted to appreciate his staff for their work.  She scampered off as Taehyung turned and went back to wandering the halls. That is until he got caught from his out of breath, frantic aide that chewed him out for simply running off.  

Taehyung was in for an earful he had a feeling he couldn’t sneak away from. 

Xxx

When you entered your shared room with Akina you slumped against your door with a silent huff.  Ever sense Taehyung had run into you and lain into your supervisor, she had gotten even harsher on you.  Your feet were sore and your legs hurt from all the dowel swats you received if you were to even step wrong walking down the hall.  Still, you just took a breath and calmed down, holding your sour disposition about your treatment. At least you weren’t executed- so you could deal with the harshness. 

“Madam Hana was too strict today, wasn’t she?” You looked up and saw the small figure of Akina sat in her bed. You nodded before you walked to her, plopping on her bed beside her.  You pulled out your notepad and ever shortening pencil as you wrote in the dimly lit room. 

‘My legs hurt from all her whacking,’ your paper whined for you. 

“Well, maybe I can cheer you up. Or, maybe our charming prince can.” You looked at Akina, your brow shooting up. She hopped off her bed before going to the small shared wardrobe in the room that held both your and her items. She grabbed something from the bottom before whirling around and coming back only to plop something into your lap. Knocking your notepad and pencil away from you. “These are from Prince Taehyung, for you.” 

You were speechless- not that you could speak anyways. Sat in your lap was the cleanest, more lovely pair of black flats you had ever seen. Enclosed around the toes and open to the top of your foot with just enough room to hook over your heel and not an inch higher. They’d be so convenient to wear. You ran your finger over their edges before you were reaching for your notepad again and scribbling furiously. You shoved the paper into Akina’s hands. 

‘Are you sure they’re for me?’ 

“He strictly instructed me that I give them to you with the message that he wants you to wear them because he doesn’t want you to hurt your feet anymore,” your roommate explained. You just stared at them star struck. The prince really wanted you to have these shoes? Where did he even get them? Regardless of if it was really him who gifted you these shoes or not, you just nodded in acceptance. 

The idea of not padding around barefoot anymore was blissful to just think about. You grew excited to wear them in the morning when another day of grilling work and dowel whacks began. Akina just smiled as she set your notepad aside, watching you kick your feet with your under eyes pushing up in a smile she couldn’t see. 

“You are just too darned cute,” the older one insisted. “If I were 10 years older, I’d adopt you in a heartbeat!” She gushed before she sat on the bed beside you and grabbed the shoes. “Let’s try them on!” 

Xxx

Taehyung woke up early that next morning, taking to the halls as they were quiet and empty in his silk, royal pjs once again.  Peach colored button up shirt that matched the same peach silk trousers that hung off his hips.  Slippers of tan on his feet and a robe of gradient corals to fight off the morning chill.  He hadn’t bothered in fixing himself to be presentable in the halls, simply because it was far too early to care about physical appearances.  

He left his room that morning and made a dash for the gardens.  He had hopped to run into you there again, but he wasn’t very hopeful. The only reason he saw you last time was because you were gathering flowers for him- the same flowers he kept in his window sill and watered. But, even if you were not in the gardens, maybe you would be somewhere else?

He stopped mid stride in the hall when he remembered that Akina had told him that you had strict surveillance and curfew.  You most definitely wouldn’t be allowed out of your room until fetched.  He groaned to himself as he then spun on his heels and backtracked towards the servant’s halls. 

Thankfully, he knew where your room was- he did drop you off once after all. 

He never realized how many servants were under the king’s employment until he was walking down halls of the servant’s wing.  It seemed they were endless before he finally turned down the hall he knew was yours. He nearly jogged when he caught sight of the door he remembered dropping you off at before. 

He came to a stop in front of it before he was knocking lightly. He turned and looked out the window behind him- the sun was almost ready to appear for the day. Although it was not yet upon the horizon, the sky had already begun to change colors. His attention fell back to the door when the door handle jostled and then twisted. 

The door was cracked open and he was greeted with Akina standing in the open crack. She seemed shocked to see Taehyung in front of her room- of course that was a valid expression. He wasn’t even properly dressed after all.  He smiled down to her as he tried to peer inside of the room- but it was too dark to see properly. He looked back to Akina ruffling his messy, blond hair. 

“Is Y/n awake yet?” He asked her.  Akina twisted her body around and watched as you remained sleeping in your bed. Curled into your blankets and softly snoring. She turned back to her prince. 

“She isn’t. Shall I wake her up?” Taehyung shook his head. 

“May I come in? I know it’s not proper for a male to enter a female’s room, but could I?” Akina’s face twisted in a few moments of shock before she was stepping back, taking the door with her as it opened further.  Apparently, she didn’t mind.  Taehyung thanked her as he stepped in, Akina shutting the door behind him. 

He stood in the room as he looked around. It was dim, the lantern on the desk in the middle of the room unlit as the morning sky only barely gave the room light.  Though it was bright enough to navigate, Akina still rushed to strike a match and light the lantern for better view. She didn’t want the crown prince falling over something and getting hurt in her room. 

The small, two bedded room was far different than his own grand room.  He felt almost guilty at the difference between staff and royal standards. However, it was something not even he could change- it was part of how the world has been.  Perhaps though, one day he could at least improve servants’ quarters. 

He shook his head, his thoughts wandering before he turned to Akina. Asking for silent permission to come closer to you. She nodded as he tiptoed to your bedside and knelt beside it.  He smiled as you slept.  

You slept curled up in blankets, tucked into your chin and curled up like you were cold. Your head had completely slipped off your pillow as you occasionally squirmed. He started poking at your face; your cheeks and nose and tracing your forehead in dumb patterns. He even poked at your mask that he was annoyed you still had to wear even while sleeping. He watched your face pout as he curled his lips to keep himself from laughing. 

“Y/n,” he called. He kept prodding at your face until your eyes started to twitch under your eyelids.  “Y/n,” he cooed again. As Taehyung tried to wake you, Akina moved to her own bed as she sat down still a bit in shock that the prince was in her room and messing with you. Eventually, your eyes slowly opened, before blinking slowly. He smiled at you as your eyes moved to look at him. “Good morning,” he greeted. 

He laughed as your eyes shot open now realizing who was in front of your bed.  Tangled in your blankets you shot up and tried to get out of your fabric prison. Sitting up, your torso free of your blanket, but your legs still trapped in it’s folds, you looked past Taehyung to Akina. She was simply smiling at you, shaking her head and shrugging her shoulders before you looked back at the prince. 

You looked around to the desk and saw your notepad and pencil sat there, but too far for you to reach.  You jumped when Taehyung stood from his knelt position beside you and started to pull at your blanket.  You moved as he tugged and before long he was pulling the blanket off you completely. 

Taehyung looked at the notepad on the desk before he was grabbing it and placing it in your lap before he was sitting himself down beside you on your mattress.  He decided to keep his opinion on your white nightgown to himself- you looked adorable in it. He giggled as you started to scribble down words quickly before shoving it into his lap. 

‘What are you doing here, Your Highness?’ 

“I didn’t get to see you all day, so I came to see you.” He gently set your notepad back in your lap before he was talking again. “I know you're under some strict scheduling, but do you want to go walk with me? I have something I want to talk to you about.” Your eyes widened before you looked down at your lap and lightly kicked your feet against your bed frame.  Your being filled with nervousness as Akina was soon standing up. 

She moved to the trunk at the end of your bed before she reached into the wardrobe and grabbed a bag to hang your notepad and pencil in.  She was now kneeling in front of you, grabbing your feet around your anklets before she was slipping your new, black flats onto your feet. 

Taehyung smiled as Akina helped you, glad that she not only gave you the shoes like he asked, but they fit so well on you. She then grabbed your notepad from your lap and placed it into the small bag before helping you to your feet.  

“If Madam Hana comes by, I’ll try and stall for you. Go enjoy the morning before work, okay?” She held your hands before she slung the bag over your shoulder to let it rest on your hip. Taehyung was soon standing behind you and patting your back between your shoulder blades.  He smiled down at you, something that helped ease your nerves.  

Between the both of them, you were soon out in the halls with your nightgown on and Taehyung beside you in his pajamas as Akina shut the door behind you both. You shivered from the cool air in the halls compared to your small, warm room.  Taehyung was quick to pull the silk robe from his shoulders and place it over you.  

“Wear this,” he urged as you wanted to decline as it was a royal’s robe.  He just persisted before he pulled your arms through the sleeves and straightened it to sit on your shoulders.  Your shoulder didn’t quite fill it out like his did, but that was alright.  You had to admit, it was a lot warmer than nothing at all. “Let’s go talk,” he soothed as he was soon leading you off to somewhere. 

Xxx

Taehyung had taken you to a small, secluded part of the royal gardens where you’re not usually allowed.  Only royals are allowed beyond a certain point and the select few of servants who care for the garden.  Shrubs and bushes of healthy, green color.  Rows of flowers lining the cobblestone paths and marble busts of past royal rulers.  A small fountain at the center off all the intermingled paths of stone. 

He watched you look around and fidget with your fingers.  You were currently disobeying a number of rules at the moment. Leaving your room without permission, not being properly supervised, wearing the prince’s robe, entering a restricted garden where servants aren’t allowed.  Your mind couldn’t keep up with everything that’s happened in such a short burst of time.  

Taehyung pulled you along with him until he sat you down on a stone bench near the fountain before he sat next to you.  He sat in silence for a moment as you continued to fidget. He was slouched back, looking up at the color changing sky as the windy blew in small wisps.  He hoped his robe was enough to keep your warm. 

“I ended up asking my attendant about you, you know?” He started.  He could practically feel you stiffen next to him. “I learned a lot about you from him and learned why you do what you do. Though, I have a lot of questions to ask you about it personally.” He felt you moved beside him, taking out your notepad to write on it before you were tapping on his thigh. 

‘Are you angry about it? What you learned?’ 

“No,” he shook his head. “Or maybe I am, but not with you.” He sighed as he brought his chin down to look at the fountain. “I heard that you were sold to my father when you were a child and that the first thing he did was slap you in restraints. That is what I am angry about.” 

‘So, you know what my restraints are for?’ Your notepad asked him before he was looking down at your lap. Your fingers were trembling, but something told him it wasn’t because of the morning chill.  You were scared.  It was clear that you were isolated from your fellow servants because the knowledge of your magic wasn’t exactly a well kept, royal secret.  

“Yes, I know you’re a sorceress, Y/n.”  You ducked your head, tucking your chin into your chest in shame as you just wished to fade away and disappear with the wind.  It wasn’t your fault you were born like this and it wasn’t your fault that everyone thought you were some kind of tumor to be removed from society.  

Everything was taken from you since you were a child and it wasn’t your fault.  You slowly wrote before handing him the notepad again. 

‘I am sorry,’ you apologized. Taehyung’s slouched figure straightened before he was taking the notepad and setting it on the ground on top of the cobblestone and out of your reach.  Your eyebrows shot up as you went to go and reach for it before Taehyung was off the bench and kneeling in front of you. He grabbed your hands, stopping your attempts to retrieve your book back. 

“Y/n, I don’t want you to apologize for something my family did to you.” His voice was stern as he forced you to look at him as he spoke on his knees in front of you.  “It is my father and his awful rules against sorcery that put you right here, right now. It is in no way your fault, you were born with your magic- you can’t just get rid of it or outgrow it.” Your eyes didn’t move from his. You weren’t sure how, but he knew how you felt about it and he was putting to ease all your anxieties. “Listen to me, I want to do something. I have things I want to do that involve you- things I want to do to protect you.” 

You furrowed your brows as he let go of your hands and reached up to your face.  He traced around the edges of your mask. You reflexively reached up to hold it, keeping the straps behind your ears even if you knew it wouldn’t fall off.  You couldn’t take it off, no one could but His Majesty to your knowledge. Taehyung smiled up to you. 

“I have a request, and by the end of our conversation this morning, I’d like for you to answer me properly. Is that alright, Y/n?” You simply nodded to him.  He placed his hands over your own that were held up by your ears. “I heard that both your gauntlets and anklets are suppressors, and that this mask is also one. When you told me that the king hates your voice, you were talking about your magic, yes?” You nodded again. “Alright, then you also know that you’re unable to take your mask off.” 

You felt dumb just nodding to him. But it is all you could do. With him blocking your path to your notepad on the ground and his hands holding yours in place by your ears, you had no other choice but to nod or shake your head in response to his questions. 

“Only royal blood can remove your mask,” his tone suddenly changed.  It was short and quiet as opposed to his earlier stern monologue.  “If that is true, then I can take this mask off of you.” Your eyes widened.  “If that’s possible, I’m going to try. I’m going to pull this mask off and I want to hear your voice. I want to see your face, I want to know what you sound like and what you look like when you smile.” 

You felt him let go of your hands as he moved his fingers behind your ears.  You felt his fingertips feather around the shell of your ear before they hooked under your mask’s straps. Your breath halted.  

“When I remove this, I want you to call for me,” he instructed you. You didn’t even nod to him that time.  Just remained breathless and still. The sensation of him pulling your mask over your ears and away from your cheeks was odd.  It felt like static as you could physically feel something coming back to you. Your throat felt warm and your cheeks tingled with feeling.  Like something was being returned to you.  

When your mask was pulled from your mouth and away from your face, the wind picked up. The morning chill being blown away as a warm, summer breeze fell in place to comfort your bare face. You ducked your head away from his eyes. Taehyung took your mask before he placed it behind him, joining it with the notepad on the cobblestone before he lifted his hands back to cup your cheeks. 

Your cheeks were soft and warm. They pushed under the pressure of his hands as he lifted your chin to look at him. When your eyes met his again your face flushed and he could see the red hue that crept onto your skin under his hands. He smiled at you the moment the sun started to breach the horizon now. 

“Memorizing,” he told you. “Now, call for me.” He watched your pink lips open and close, unsure on how to do it. What to do and then the anxieties set in again. You haven't used your voice in so long. What did it sound like now? Would it be weak and hoarse? No, surely not.  Your throat was warm and smooth and you felt something magical in the absence of your mask. “It’s alright,” Taehyung soothed. “It’s just us here, just try.” 

He watched you stick your tongue out to lick at your dry lips before you opened your mouth again. He felt your jaw move under his hands and your cheeks hollow out at your lips unsure movements. Your chest inflated as you took a breath in. 

“Um,” the small noise that came out of your mouth made Taehyung jump as his fingertips pushed into your cheeks further.  Trying to urge you to speak, he just nodded as you tried again. “Prince Taehyung?” You whispered in a small, adorable voice.  

Taehyung’s jaw dropped before you gasped and pushed your palms against your mouth as if you had just committed a crime.  In a sense, you did.  It was a royal order that you not speak, but then again it was the prince who told you to speak in the first place after he took off your mask.  You were confused and shocked at your own choice of actually speaking again. 

“Y/n, would you consider being my lady-in-waiting?” Taehyung blurted out as your eyes bugged before he continued.  “I know it’s not proper, and that only noblewomen are assigned court ladies, but I am without an assistant and I want it to be you.” 

You had never heard of a prince asking for a woman servant to tend to him before.  It was absolutely asinine. However, when you looked at Taehyung, he really meant it.  

“Why?” Was your reply and he felt his hair stand on end at hearing your voice again. “The king would surely reject the idea.” It was so soft, like velvet to his ears.

“I will speak to him. He is my father and I will fight him on this.  He has no choice if I threaten my throne after all- it works as a last resort.”  Threatening his throne? As in threatening to not come to rule and dismissing his coronation one day in the future? That’s ridiculous! “Of course, I’d never really give up my place as crown prince, but it’s a good bargaining chip.” 

“But, Madam Hana. She is my supervisor, if I-” 

“If you serve under me, she will be unnecessary.  I do not want to see her hit you anymore.” 

“My prince, I don’t know.”  It was no surprise that you were unsure about it.  It was all so sudden, not to mention all the unknown variables about such a strong choice.  “What answer do you want from me,” you whimpered as you fiddled with the fabric of your nightgown.  Taehyung ran his thumb across your cheek as he pulled his lips back into a smile.  

“Whatever answer you give me, I’ll accept it. Unlike my father, I am no bully,” he teased.  You smiled at the prince calling the king something as lowly as a ‘bully’. His time abroad seemed to have fused this childish, refreshing nature into his persona. It made you feel warm and Taehyung felt like a spring shower. 

“If I agree, would you be happy?” 

“Yes,” he answered in a heartbeat.  

“You are so sure of yourself,” you replied to his quickfire answer.  

“I am sure of you.” 

As you sat in the restricted garden of royalty, the prince of Lisha on his knees in front of you holding your cheeks in his silk pajamas with his hands that had removed your mask, you made a decision. Perhaps, it was a foolish one in the making.  It would surely anger the king and could create tension among your fellow servants.  It would undoubtedly cause Madam Hana to go into a fit. But when you thought of Akina and her support as well as your Prince Taehyung who knelt before you, all that didn't seem to matter any more. 

It felt like you were regaining a piece of freedom you were stripped of when you were young.  

“I would,” you told him.  “I would consider it, if you would allow me,” you finalized.  If being his lady-in-waiting and throwing out the standard status quo was what it was going to take to please your prince, then you’d just have to accept it and follow him.  He was the first royal to even show you a spec of kindness like his late mother did once very long ago. 

Yes, you should stick to Prince Taehyung’s side. 

[sourbat]

Here’s a little something inspired by a twitter post by @lampmeeting. Thank you for letting me use your setting and allowing explore this idea :)

Summary: Magnus comes to his apartment after a long day from work and realizes he forgot Toki was coming to see him.

Pair: Toki and Magnus

Rating: T for language

He forgot Toki was due to arrive today. Well, that wasn’t entirely true: Magnus pretty much had the date engrained in every facet of his being, with the memo saved on both calendar and the company phone. But somewhere between being asked to pick up Dennis’ shift, spending a solid half hour trying to help sort a fight between two live-ins, being snubbed by the supervisor for appearing less than favorable around clients and forgetting to clock out at lunch (again), and having the misfortune of being the only one on duty with the knowledge to replace a flat tire, it must have slipped his mind. Then, to top it all off, Magnus very stupidly accepted staying behind to help clean the cafeteria’s storeroom. He did it despite already being in a mood, sore from kneeling and installing a new wheel for the company van, because he thought it might amount to some small, positive thing. His supervisor redacting their previous statement about him, or some co-worker offering a smile instead of their usual candor regarding him and his temperament. It didn’t, and instead of clocking out at half past three like he planned, didn’t reach the floor to his apartment until five in the evening, where he found Toki already situated, phone at hand and a few klokateers at his side.

Toki lifted his head, eyes aglow with immediate interest the moment Magnus shut the door behind him. “Hiya Magnus!”

Unprepared, and quite shocked to see the younger man sitting amongst his furniture, Magnus spent a good second taking in the scene. There was Toki, smiling at him. Klokateers nodding and offering their silent warnings before slipping past and offering the two their privacy. His lower back twinging with icy stings. The clock on the microwave indicating the hour. The reminder on his calendar that Toki would be arriving around half past four. Toki approaching and snatching him by the hand. The weight of his work boots tripling, and the insane pang his arches endured with every step.

“Toki, you’re here?” he muttered amid his mental decay, and still pondered and repeated as Toki dragged him to the couch. He fell into the stiff cushion, good eye still fixed on the younger man’s form, hoping that this was all a terrible mistake, and Toki hadn’t just spent half an hour waiting for him.

A friendly peck on the cheek proved otherwise.

“You’re here,” Magnus muttered, palm resting against the freshly planted kiss. Shit, you’re here.”

“Yeps,” Toki replied joyfully, which only served to eat at Magnus’ already steeping guilt. He grabbed a collection of reusable bags, hoisting them and placing them on top of his laps for Magnus to view. “Broughts a lot of things this times. And now you ams here, so we can haves…”

Magnus raised his heavy head when he noticed Toki suddenly go silent. A quick glance provided a hint something was amiss, and when Magnus stopped trying to free his knotted shoelace, saw Toki wearing the oddest of looks.

“Something wrong?”

“Ams ok?”

Magnus dropped his leg. “What?”

“Looks a little tireds,” Toki answered with a small, worried pout. Again, it only made Magnus painfully aware of how late he was, and he regretted bothering to stay behind in the first place. Toki, how on earth did he forget Toki was visiting him today? And now the guy was staring at him like he was expecting Magnus to break down and admit he accidentally set the kitchen on fire. Well, it almost felt like it. Magnus would have rather that happen than half the other crap that occurred today. That would have been a decent enough excuse for being late. There was no way he was going to bring up what actually occurred. No point in wasting Toki’s precious time. The guy traveled thousands of miles to be here. It was Magnus’ turn to play good host.

With that in mind, Magnus pasted on a smile. He sucked in a sharp breath and swallowed the pain rooted in his lower back and legs, and said, “Well, I hung around work longer than normal.”

“Oh, ams dat why you ams so late?”

Ouch. Well, ok.

Pulling in his bottom lip for a bite, Magnus gave a slight nod. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

“No, ams ok,” Toki insisted, perking his shoulder up and lifting the ends of his pout into a hopeful smile. “I dids say you should tries to make more friends here.”

“You did say that,” Magnus replied, trying to sound more relieved than annoyed by his current prospects.

If only Toki knew how half the staff reacted whenever he moseyed into a room, or how impatient and passive-aggressive his supervisor turned when he performed an action that was deemed subpar, or “not friendly enough,” whatever the hell that meant. As far as friends go, Magnus had several twenty-somethings bothering him over the smallest thing, and never picking up when he wanted space, or–

“So, why don’t you tells Toki abouts your day?”

Magnus tugged at a shoestring, eye wincing at the dull sting that quaked in his arch. Was it a blister, or just plain exhaustion? Then arrived the question, and when Magnus broke from his strain of thought, found Toki now inching closer with his round blue eyes locked on him.

With the same, tight smile, Magnus shook his head and waggled a finger at the encroaching Toki. “Nah, give me a moment. I’ll be ready to head out in a second.”

He returned to his work boots and tugged at the heel, wriggling it free as best he could without reawakening another sharp pang. Magnus yanked off the first, withholding a sigh he had building inside of him from the anticipation. He wiggled his free foot from its sock. Thankfully, no blisters, but a day on his feet in heavy work boots had left its effect. Hopefully Toki was in a limo mood today, and not a walking and exploring one.

“Wants some helps?” 

Magnus was busy working the second boot when a hand entered his vision, sliding over his own. Soft, large and warm. Toki’s hands. Magnus’s eyes widened at the sight of Toki fingers sliding over his, reaching for the laces and somehow undoing the knot with graceful ease. Magnus uttered a single complaint, a noise that suggested shame for being caught in a moment of weakness, but quickly gave in to watch Toki near him, yank off the second boot and then bring his hands to cup and hold Magnus by the heel. Another, gentler yank, and cold air washed over his afflicted foot. A finger glided down the sole, and Magnus flinched. It wasn’t the tickle, but the irritating flash of pain that racked up the foot, raced up his leg and added to the collective pain settled in his lower back.

Toki’s eyes fixed on his reaction. “Oh, wowee. Magnus, what did you and your pals do all days? Runs around in circles?”

“Something like that,” Magnus said, eye wincing right as Toki began squeezing his arch. He bit his tongue, keeping as straight a face as he could. Was this happening? Was Toki aware of what he was doing?

“Oh? Tell Tokis?”

Another controlled squeeze suggested so. Magnus had had the pleasure of dealing with a playful Toki. A grabby Toki. This was not the same. This was two thumbs firmly pressed into sore muscles, massaging circles and breaking down tight knots built up from stress and overwork. This was another glimpse at a more mature Toki that Magnus had difficulty accepting, yet wanted to know better. Worst, this was yet another damn instance where he had messed up, and now Toki was forced to adjust. Well, not this time.

“In a bit. You said you wanted to catch a flick, right?” Magnus asked, then tried to retract his foot from Toki’s grip. “Let me put on a pair and we can talk on the way to my car. Or your limo.”

“Cans waits,” Toki declared, then gave Magnus’ foot another squeeze. This time, Magnus couldn’t stop a small shime from slipping past. The ache was pulsed up his ankle and leg, to his back. Feeling the building pressure, Magnus sank into the furniture. Let outstretched, Toki ran his hands up Magnus’ leg, taking ruddy work pants into his large hands. “Your foots ams swollen.”

“I know, man.”

Swollen feet was just the half of it. He had spent his entire day going from one part of the rehabilitation home, a good hour working in a garage without air conditioner, and another one hauling boxes of nonperishables from one shelf to another. He reeked, smelled like sweat, dust and tomato paste, and was willing to bet he looked as wretched as he felt. He should have stayed behind. He should have taken a shower, and been there at the door to greet Toki after a long flight. 

“Magnus?” Toki said as he massaged the sensitive arch. The relief that spilled from the contact had Magnus gripping the pillow. He sighed, feeling the day’s events stretch out before him. Why did he push back his lunch break and take that shift? Why did he argue with the residents over petty shit like who had the right to the remote, or this week’s latest gossip magazine? Why did he try, when it always amounted to him being scolded for raising his voice, for snapping back, or getting frustrated?

Eyes on the ceiling, Magnus answered: “Yeah?”

“How was your day?”

And if he missed his original lunch break, then wouldn’t it make sense to just not get upset over him forgetting to clock out for a late lunch?  It wasn’t like he was purposefully trying to break the rules. He was trying to be a team player, otherwise he wouldn’t have bothered with missing his lunch, or helped clean the storeroom. And how was it none of these kids knew how to change a flat?

“Magnus?”

A sigh. “I’ll be real with you, dude: it’s not as exciting as you think.”

“So? Cames to sees you.”

It sounded so small, so sad, that Magnus tore from his silent tribulations to check on Toki. The massage continued, still solid and firm, but Toki’s head hung a little low. Honey brown hair partly concealed a growing frown. Reclined in his seat, the pain in Magnus’ back had started to dull, but a new pain bubbled up his throat as he watched Toki’s bottom lip start to push out. The poor kid was just trying to create small talk, and here he was doing everything in his power to avoid a conversation.

If only he had anything worth talking about.

Magnus pulled himself into a seated position, letting his feet drop to the floor. The pain returned, but Magnus didn’t mind. Feet now hanging, he reached and took Toki’s now freed hands into his.

“You came to have fun,” he stated, watching Toki’s brows and slightly parted mouth go crooked.

“No. Toki cames to be with you,” he insisted, then rubbed his thumbs into Magnus’ tired palms. That, too, was a relief. “Ams not doing that rights now?”

Such kind words. Magnus found little reason to accuse Toki of being deceitful, but refused to accept that after a long flight, Toki was perfectly fine with spending and evening cooped up inside of a drafty apartment, rubbing his feet while he bitched and moaned about his stupid day.

He let out a heavy, staggered sigh. “Toki, you can’t tell me you’re fine with sitting and listening to me complain about my shitty day.”

So, stupid. Why the hell did he stay behind to help with the storeroom? He could be out right now, out with Toki at some loud club. How long had Toki waited for him? He’d been so selfish, thinking only about himself, that he failed to ask when he finally arrived. He owed Toki a nice evening. Toki came to have fun, to explore the rest of Phoenix and get lost in the canyons.

A hand lifted him by the chin. In front of him, Magnus watched Toki’s face inch close, until there was nothing for him to do but meet the younger man in the eyes.

“Cant’s have fun if you ams in pains,” Toki replied softly. His thumb rolled across Magnus’ bristly chin, coaxing a reaction. Hesitantly, Magnus drew forward, closing the gap. A pain nestled in his chest as he brought his lips to meet Toki.  Another hand, wrapped around his lower waist and back, melted it away. “Remembers, we ams boyfriends now,” Toki said as they parted, “So… let’s Toki helps. I’ll fix your foots, and you can tell me abouts your day, okays?”

The word hung high, alien and sounding so juvenile compared to what Manus had grown accustomed to. But upon hearing it, he couldn’t help but chuckle, letting his face burn a little with surprise that Toki would excitedly point it out, use it as a weapon against him to show that he cared.

“Fine,” he answered stiffly and, after allowing himself a second to relax, added, “yeah.”

Toki fidgeted, excited by the agreement. Already, Magnus’ legs were in the process of gliding back up to the cushions when Toki grabbed and lifted his left by the heel. Caught off-guard, Magnus slipped and fell back into the stiff cushions. The rough bounce awakened every sore part of his body, and with it, today’s memories. Tender fingers rolled over his tired muscles, and while Magnus stared up at the slow moving ceiling fan, felt the entire weight of the day start to crush him.

Above, Toki’s voice rang clear. “So, where does you wanna start?”

Magnus blinked. A warm sting burned at the edge of his eyes.

“…my supervisor’s a dick.”

[spencers-renaissance]

Even More Beautiful

Summary: the BAU is stuck in Michigan with no case and no way home, so naturally, Spencer and Derek confess their love for one another. Based on the prompt ‘You look even more beautiful covered in snow.’

Tags: Fluff, Love Confessions, Snowball Fights, Insecurity, a little Hurt/Comfort

Pairing: Morgan x Reid 

Word Count: 3.5k

Read on AO3

It never fails to amaze Spencer just how cold the United States can be sometimes. Intellectually, of course, he’s aware that a typical Michigan winter drops down to single digits in the Upper Peninsula, but experiencing such a fact is always shockingly different to reading it. He can’t help but be bitter they weren’t called to Arizona or New Mexico so late in November; growing up in Nevada did not prepare him well for the city of Marquette.

Their proximity to Lake Superior doesn’t help either, as he explains to Emily as she loudly laments the snowfall. “It shouldn’t be so damn hard to walk 300 metres, is all I’m saying, Reid,” she groans, dragging her legs. He doesn’t exactly think his explanation for the snow helped all that much, but at least their hotel is finally in sight. “I can run a six minute mile, okay, I should not be finding walking this hard.”

“You should’ve worn your snow boots,” he says lightly and politely doesn’t mention that he’s slowing his pace to match hers -- he doesn’t have a death wish. 

His comment still makes Emily pause and look down at his feet. “Wait, you keep those in your go bag?” she asks incredulously. 

“Of course,” he says, a little obliviously. Doesn’t everyone? “It’s winter, I don’t want to be caught out. Like you.” 

Emily finally regains her composure and keeps walking, chuckling lightly to herself. “I swear, Reid, your preparedness is mildly grating sometimes.” 

“I’ve been told,” he smiles, pushing open the door to the lobby, much to Emily’s relief. 

They’d been on their way back from the Police Department; Hotch had asked them to tie up the loose ends and pick up the reports since they were the last ones there and he had a call to answer that didn’t look pleasing to him in the slightest, and unfortunately the trek back had been a foul one. As soon as they step into the hotel lobby though, they’re met with a miserable sight. The whole team is either sat on the uncomfortable lobby furniture looking dejected or restlessly pacing while Hotch remains on the phone, talking agitatedly with the person on the other end of the line. 

“What’s going on?” Emily asks as they approach the group, ripping off their hats and gloves as the heated lobby begins to warm them up nicely. 

“All flights out of Michigan are grounded,” Derek answers, walking over to meet them as he looks both of them over carefully, eyes concerned. “You two alright? You look frozen to the bone.” 

“Department was working with bare bones staff so there was no-one free to drive us back and not a cab in sight. We walked through 9 inches of snow while it was still coming down heavy,” Emily answered for both of them, Spencer content to tuck his hands in his pockets and observe as always. “But the flights are grounded? How are we getting home, then?”

“That’s precisely the problem, I think,” Derek answers grimly. “Technically we could still fly home as a government agency, but the jet pilot doesn’t think it’s safe and the brass are advising us to wait a bit. The snow’s predicted to lessen a little over the next few days, apparently, but we’re waiting to hear if Hotch has any more news.”

Everyone else looks thoroughly miserable at the news, but then Spencer supposes that most people have plans and family to get home for. To him, this is a few days with a virtual guarantee of no case surrounded by beautiful scenery. Plus, he gets to be around his favourite people for a little while longer. 

“Right,” Emily says, looking a little disappointed at the idea of waiting longer than necessary to get home. “I’m gonna go and check on JJ.” She smiles at Reid, clapping him gently on the shoulder before wandering over to the sofa JJ’s sat on. 

“You alright, pretty boy?” Derek asks. “You’re still looking a little on the chilly side.”

“Well, we did trek down the entire street in almost a foot of snow so I’m not sure you can blame me,” he smiles wryly, fiddling his fingers inside his pockets, nervous in the way he so often gets around Derek. 

“No, I don’t suppose I can.” He casts a glance Hotch’s way, who doesn’t look any closer to a resolution. “How about we head back up to the room? Garcia rebooked them for tonight anyway and I don’t see much point in waiting around for nothing. Let’s go get you a hot chocolate and warm you back up.”

“I can’t have coffee?” Spencer smiles hopefully, knowing Derek hates how restless he gets after a nighttime espresso.

“Not when you’re sharing a room with me, kid, you know that,” Derek grins, as they make their way to the elevators. 

★

They all go out for brunch the next morning, squeezing into the largest booth at the local diner and enjoying some rare, stress-free time together, and by the time they all pour out onto the street it's early afternoon.

“Right, shall we head back to the hotel for a bit, then?” Rossi asks as they pause on the pavement. 

“Emily and I were going to head to the highstreet for a bit, actually,” JJ replies, shooting a smile Emily’s way. Spencer only feels sorry for JJ, knowing how much complaining she’s going to hear. He loves Emily to pieces but the woman has a lot to say about a lot of things.

“I’ll head back with you, Dave,” Hotch says unsurprisingly. Spencer expects he’s making a beeline for the phone to ring home and speak to Jack. 

“What about you, kid?” Derek asks, turning to look at him with a questioning gaze as the others begin to peel off in the direction of their destinations. 

“I don’t know, I’m feeling kind of restless, I’m not sure I want to go back and sit uselessly in the hotel room for hours on end,” he replies, cocking his head and looking back at his friend as his eyes squint against the wintry sun. “I only bought eight books with me.”

“Well Presque Isle Park is a ten minute from here, how about we take a midday walk up there?” Derek suggests, chuckling a little at Spencer’s comment.

“Really?” Spencer asks, a little shocked. “You want to go on an hours long walk through the snow in a random city’s park with me?”

“Course I do, pretty boy,” Derek reassures him. “Plus, the snow’s melted a little and the paths in the park will probably be cleared anyway. Let me call a taxi while you text the others so they know where we’re headed.” 

Driving through the beautiful streets of Marquette, Spencer can see the tangible relief the city is experiencing now that the case is wrapped up and there’s no longer a freaky woman hater stalking the citizens. It’s nice hanging around a little after the case and getting to see with his own eyes the effects of their hard work, the good that they can instill in the world as they counterbalance the bad. 

“What’s going on in that big head of yours, Spencer?” Derek asks, cutting through his dreamy thoughts.

“Nothing, it’s just,” he paused for a moment trying to explain. “It’s a beautiful town and it’s nice to see that we could preserve it that way, that we didn’t let evil corrupt it.” He lifts his gaze to Derek’s just in time to see his eyes soften, fondness and something else he couldn’t quite discern filling his expression. 

Instead of saying anything though, he just shoots him a wistful smile and looks back out the window. 

They arrive at the park fairly quickly and Derek pays the driver while Spencer hops out and is immediately captivated by the beauty surrounding him. He nearly jumps when Derek follows closely behind and places a large hand on his shoulder, steering him towards the path. “It’s breathtaking out here, isn’t it?” he asks him, but Spencer’s eyes catch on the vapour that the words produce and, consequently, Derek’s lips. Shaking himself out of it, he nods and quickly agrees before his eyes catch a wooden sign and he rushes over to it. 

“It says that there’s a walk that goes around the perimeter of the peninsula the park rests on, we could start walking it and turn around if we need to?” Spencer suggests, calling behind him to where Derek still stood in the middle of the path, fiddling with his gloves.

“Sounds good, pretty boy,” he calls back, finally getting them settled and jogging forward to catch up with him. 

They walk in silence for a little while, both taking in the breathtaking sights of the trees and the lake, snow and ice making everything appear even more beautiful. The first people they pass are a young family with two little children who cheerily greet them as they rush past them in a heated game of tag. “I can’t imagine what it must have been like to be raised somewhere as idyllic as this,” Spencer comments a little nostalgically, breaking the silence in a quiet voice 18 minutes and 45 seconds into their leisurely stroll. 

“Vegas didn’t give you quite the same views?” Derek smiles sarcastically.

“Somehow, no,” Spencer chuckles back. “But I can’t imagine the South Side of Chicago was much better.”

“It wasn’t too bad,” Derek muses. “Granted we lived on a rundown street in a rundown neighbourhood, but the local park was surprisingly unscathed by any of the nasty business that might have plagued the area, at least to our naive eyes. We weren’t too far from the River, either, which was beautiful through all the seasons.”

“That’s nice,” Spencer says, shooting Derek a genuine smile. “I’m glad you had something like that growing up, you deserved it.”

“So did you, though,” Derek says, a little sadly. “I wish more than anything I could have been there when you were younger.”

Spencer smiles at the ground, trying to hide his blush, not knowing how to say, ‘I wish the same about you’ without feeling awkward. “You’re here now, though,” he settles on, and looks up into Derek’s wide, welcome eyes and tries to convey his gratitude. 

“That I am.” 

“You know, you guys are the first people who I’ve ever been able to fully be myself around,” Spencer confesses, feeling safe in the cool, clean air with only his best friend close by. “I was thinking about it yesterday; everyone else was excited to get home to their families, and I was just glad I had an extra day or two with mine.”

“Hey, Spencer,” Derek says, tugging gently at his arm to get him to slow to a stop and levelling him with a gaze that sort of punched a whole through his stomach with its power. “You can always be yourself around me, I hope you know that. You’re just as much my family as I am yours, alright?”

Spencer’s certain he’s beet red, but he tries his hardest not to look away. “Thanks Derek,” he says earnestly, finally ducking his head in embarrassment. They start walking again and Spencer can’t resist the urge to dissipate some of the intensity in the air, so he feigns a heavy sigh in jest. “Don’t worry, though. I’m fully aware I’m stuck with you for good.”

Derek fakes a gasp. “Alright, pretty boy, I’d watch your mouth if I was you.” He shoves him sideways gently, and Spencer stumbles a little. Derek barely budges, though, when Spencer shoves him back. 

“You’re a great big oaf, you know that right?” Spencer giggles, trying his hardest to get to Derek to stumble the way he did, finally giving up. “Why won’t you move?” he whines. 

“Well, pretty boy, it goes a little like this…” Derek catches him off guard and with another push, sends Spencer tumbling into the soft snow bank at the side of the path, freezing in shock as he realises what he just did. 

“You are going to regret that, Derek Morgan,” Spencer laughs loudly as he picks himself up, trying to dust a little of the snow off his coat. He watches the relief melt into his best friend’s eyes as he realises he didn’t hurt him but, naturally, he knows he has to take advantage of his momentary weakness so he crouches down and gathers a hastily rolled snowball and chucks it directly at Derek’s chest. 

“Oh, I see how it is,” Derek laughs, inching forwards slowly.

“You see how it is?” Spencer teases in retaliation.

“I do, I do see how it is.” Derek grins wickedly. “I see that Spencer Reid is unleashing his inner child and is rather desperate to have a snowball fight.”

“Is that so?” Spencer giggles, amused by Derek’s antics. 

Before he can register what’s happening, Derek’s throwing his own hastily thrown snowball his way, hitting him square on his shoulder. He shrieks with glee, running away through the snow, trying to dodge Derek’s snowball assault, eventually managing to take shelter behind a tree. He starts compiling his own fortress of snowballs, but before he can make his third, Derek’s suddenly in front of him, armed with another. Catching him off guard, he stumbles backwards again, this time grabbing onto the sleeve of Derek’s coat for purchase and tugging him down with him into the snow. 

Giggling like school children, they lay in the snow for a little while, ignoring the cold seeping through their jackets and into their bones. Eventually, though, Spencer sits up, trying to brush some of the snow away. He’s grumbling quietly about how drenched he is when he’s interrupted by eight words that make every muscle in his body still completely. 

“You look even more beautiful covered in snow.”

He is completely frozen. Derek calls him pretty all the time, so surely this shouldn’t be any different, right? He’s definitely overreacting. But there’s a difference between teasing nicknames and directly calling him beautiful, he knows there is. It’s just sort of breaking his heart that it’s everything he’s wanted to hear from Derek for years and he can’t even enjoy it; he can’t trust it. 

He knows he’s blushing deeply, and Derek also looks frozen, in shock at the words that just let his mouth, and it’s awkward. It hasn’t ever been awkward between them, tension was a mystery in their relationship -- they’d clicked immediately, getting along like a house on fire -- so why could they no longer meet one another’s eyes?

Quietly, they both get up and come to a silent consensus to turn back the other way. Slowly, the awkwardness eases between them and the silence becomes a little more bearable. The static in Spencer’s mind fades with it and he no longer feels as though his brain is short-circuiting, but that he can think about it clearly. Derek said it for a reason, he’s sure it meant something and he can’t go on without hearing it for certain.

“Did you mean it?” Spencer asks earnestly, voice still a little muted. He’s too shy and uncertain to make eye contact, but he’s proud of himself for being brave enough to ask the question; he deserves to know and he owes himself that. 

He manages to hold back the surprised flinch that ripples through his body as he feels Derek’s fingers clasp his upper arm gently, pulling him to a stop. He gently nudges his fingers under Spencer’s chin, lifting his face to look at his own, making sure he registers his deep, genuine gaze. “I did.”

Immediately, Spencer pulls away and looks down at the snowy path beneath his boots. Truthfully he’s struggling to process what’s going on at the moment: surely the man he’s been in love with for the last three years isn’t telling him what he thinks he is?

Derek lifts his chin again, concerned eyes meeting his own. “Hey, you okay, beautiful boy?”

Spencer has never been more confident of the difference between pretty boy and beautiful boy, so he leans in and presses a quick, shy kiss against Derek’s lips before he can stop himself. Suddenly unsure of himself again, though, he moves to pull away but Derek reaches a large palm to his cheek and leans back in, sliding his lips over Spencer’s softly, and Spencer can’t help but part his lips slightly, completely drawn into and consumed by Derek’s kiss. 

Eventually, reluctantly, they part with another, soft kiss, leaning their foreheads together. “I’m not sure I can think of a more beautiful place to share a first kiss,” Spencer grins, unable to help himself. 

Derek laughs heartily, leaning away from his face and grabbing his hand gently instead. “I think you’re right about that, pretty boy.” 

“Hey, I thought I was beautiful boy, now,” Spencer pouts, and Derek leans in, unable to resist kissing away his faux grumpy expression. 

“That you are,” he says gently.  “My beautiful boy.”

★

When they finally make it back to the hotel, Spencer’s freezing cold and soaked to the skin. 

“I don’t think I’m ever going to be warm again,” he grumbles, forcing Derek to wrestle him into a warm bath and bury him under the covers, swathed in one of Derek’s own sweaters. “God, I could get used to seeing you in my clothes,” he groaned as soon as Spencer was warm and tucked in. To be fair, the jumper was big on Derek so it definitely hung off and accentuated Spencer’s smaller frame, which was exactly what he needed at that moment.

“You’re such a typical alpha male,” Spencer giggles. “So possessive. Go and have a shower, silly, then you can come and join me.” He waggles his eyebrows jokingly, and Derek smiles fondly before obeying his orders and warming himself up. 

Not long after they’ve climbed into bed, relaxing into each other’s arms in a non-platonic way for the first time ever, Emily knocks on their door inviting them out for a group dinner. Derek kindly turns down the invitation though, explaining how exhausted they are from their earlier trek, and she leaves them be, the rest of the team traipsing back into town. Spencer definitely thinks they have the winning idea when instead they sneakily order from the local Chinese and climb back into bed, spreading the cartons across the sheets in an inviting feast. 

Derek props up his tablet up on top of a cushion on his lap and Spencer shows him how to download episodes of the original Doctor Who, and they eat quietly in a haven of domestic bliss, a momentary escape from the stress of their jobs, the pressure of their friends, the responsibilities of life. Derek, in turn, tries to teach Spencer how to properly use chopsticks, an endeavour that he’s failed in far too many times to keep trying. 

“I know how to use them in theory,” Spencer protests.

“Well that eidetic memory doesn’t come much in handy here, does it?” Derek teases. “Even your 187 IQ doesn’t stand a chance at teaching you coordination.”

“You’re being mean,” he pouts.

“Aww, I’m sorry, baby,” he smiles, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before finally letting him have the plastic fork he’d been hiding, purposefully ignoring the indicting glare being shot his way.

When their cartons are empty, they lean back even further into the well-cushioned bed. “I’ve been in love with you for three years, you know,” Spencer confesses softly, drawing lines on Derek’s chest which is currently acting as his pillow, despite the abundance behind him. 

“Really?” Derek asks, clearly surprised.

“You didn’t know?”

“Of course not,” he replies incredulously. “If I’d known I’d have made a move years ago.”

“We are certifiable idiots.”

“Yes we are.”

“I never said anything because…” Spencer gives himself a moment, trying to find the right words and not humiliate himself. “I never thought you could love anyone like me. I mean despite the obvious, being very much male, I’m a lanky nerd, not like the pretty girls you pick up in bars when we go out.”

“Oh, baby,” Derek sighs, carding a hand through Spencer’s hair before pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head. “There’s a reason I’ve called you pretty boy all these years. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met and I’ve been infatuated pretty much since I met you. You are far prettier than any of those girls I’ve met in bars. Far more special. Far more precious. You’re seriously important to me, okay?”

“Okay,” Spencer says, and he can’t hide the pleased note in his voice. He’s blushing, of course he is, but it’s out of pleasure this time, not embarrassment. He feels honoured to be of such importance to Derek, and he can’t help but feel like the luckiest person in the world right now, wrapped up in his strong, gentle arms. A sudden drowsiness seeps into his veins and he feels his limbs getting heavy. 

Derek clearly recognises it, and presses another gentle kiss to the top of his head. “Sleep, baby. I’ll be here when you wake up,” he promises. “We have so much to look forward to.”

Spencer finally falls asleep, believing that’s true for the first time in a long time.

[sibillascribbles08]

Who’s the Golden Master Now?

More changeling AU where stuff actually gets crazy

    It was too quiet.

    Lloyd stood in the middle of the city, his father and Kai by his side. The rest of the team had gone about trying to evacuate anyone, preparing for the Overlord’s assault. 

    But nothing happened. 

    Eventually with the lack of activity, Jay and Cole went to slip into the tower to see if they could find anything. Lloyd hated standing by, but someone had to be out here to interfere if their enemies showed up. 

    But it was still nothing. Not even any droids trying to launch an attack. The lack of citizens made the streets so quiet Lloyd almost wanted to panic from the silence.

    His father must have sensed it, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Patience, son, we can’t act without any information.”

    “I know.” Lloyd sighed. “But this is weird. It’s too weird.”

    His stress wasn’t aided by his concern over Cryptor, despite what the rest of the team thought. Pixal said he could be fixed, but they didn’t have the time or resources right now, so the droid remained unconscious back at Nya’s Samurai X base. 

    Lloyd couldn’t pinpoint why he was worried, but he at least knew he couldn’t treat Cryptor like an enemy. Maybe it’s because he related to it. He and his father both aided the enemy in the past, and both of them turned away from it. It wasn’t impossible for Cryptor to decide to do the same.

    Why couldn’t the rest of the team give him the chance. 

    The roar of an engine brought him out of his thoughts. He got into a defensive position before Jay’s roadster came into view. The blue ninja spun it onto the street before parking in front of them. The hatch opened, him and Cole both popping up.

    “You guys will not believe what we found.” Jay laughed, but he also sounded worried.

    Before Lloyd could ask, Cole reached into the vehicle to pull something out of it. In his solid grip was Pythor, the serpentine’s arms tightly bound together. The snake hissed and even tried to bite Cole before he was tossed onto the ground. 

    “He was trying to run for it.” Jay hopped out, lightning at the ready when Pythor tried to move. 

    “But why?” Garmadon pointed his staff at the serpentine. “Speak.” 

    Pythor scoffed before glancing at everyone. He must have decided he was outnumbered and cleared his throat. “Listen, I don’t want any trouble anymore. Just let me go.”

    “We’ll let you go when we have answers.” Kai’s hands lit up. “Where’s The Overlord? Where’s Zane?”

    The serpentine shivered. “I don’t know why you want your friend back in the first place.” He spat. “He’s utterly mad.”

    “Explain.” Lloyd emphasized. “Tell us what happened.”

    “Fine.” Pythor rolled his eyes. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you…” 

----

    Soon. Soon enough the Overlord would claim the golden armor they forged and their assault on the city could begin. Pythor’s revenge was in reach.

    All the nindroids were lined up. The armor arrived on a cart, since none of the droids could touch it, and it waited for the Overlord to arrive.

    Sadly, in his state, he refused to let the others see him. The army was dismissed, save for Cryptor who refused to leave. Pythor was tempted to argue with him, but something about the droid unnerved him. 

    Finally the doors opened. The Overlord walked in, can in hand. His form still wasn’t completely solid, dark matter oozing off him with the same consistency of honey or oil. Pythor kept those thoughts to himself. 

    “Finally.” The Overlord’s voice still came out as a hiss and a croak. “The golden power is mine. Soon the city will be mine. Then the world.” 

    Pythor tapped his fingers together, trying to his his green. The Overlord reached out to the armor--

    Clang.

    Pythor blinked at the sound, seeing the black armored hand contrasting with the shining gold. He followed it up to Cryptor who stared forward, looking smug.

    “Sorry.” The nindroid said. “But I decided against that.”

    “What?” Pythor and the Overlord growled at the same time.

    “Have you lost it, you bucket of bolts?” Pythor continued. “Need I remind you yet again that you can be reprogrammed.”

    “Then try it.” Cryptor narrowed his eyes. “Without the Overlord in the digiverse you’re going to have a tougher time with that, right?” 

    Pythor opened his mouth but couldn’t find an argument fast enough.

    “I thought about it.” Cryptor picked up a piece of the armor, tapping it against his face. “See, after switching bodies my head was so muddled, but it cleared up a lot after you got booted from the system.”

    Switch bodies? What was he talking about?

    “And I learned about the plan to find this stuff.” Cryptor gestured to the armor. “And how could I pass the opportunity for that upgrade?”

    “Explain yourself.” Pythor snapped. “What do you mean ‘switch bodies?’”

    “What, you haven’t figured it out?” Cryptor lowered the bottom part of his mask so they could see him smirk. “Did that other nindroid constantly insisting he was your general after the power plant got shut down not tip you off?”

    Pythor flinched. “What? You mean he was telling you the truth? That’s--”

    “‘Preposterous?’ Hardly. A simple switch of the harddrive when his guard is down.” 

    “Then you’re--”

    “Zane!” The nindroid kept interrupting. “Or am I even him, I wonder.”

    The Overlord growled. “Stop this nonsense. Get your hands off my armor. How are you even touching it?”

    “What are you going to do about it?” Cryptor--no, Zane--tilted his head. “Going to fight me? I’d like to see you both try.” 

    Pythor still lunged, having faith in his strength. Zane’s grip around the piece of gold tightened before he held out his other hand. Lightning flew from his fingers, sending Pythor flying backwards. The static ran under his scales and he clutched his head to try and focus. 

    “How are you doing that?” The Overlord shouted. “Mere pawns like you shouldn’t be able to touch it, much less use it.”

    Zane shrugged, picking up more of it. “I don’t know, nor do I care. Anything for a better upgrade, right?” 

    One more piece of armor and the nindroid started to glow, gold light coming off him in waves. Pythor thought he was done for, that in moments his body would turn to dust and their plan could continue.

    Instead the armor warped, as if it was melting once again. It wrapped around Zane’s right arm, completely encasing it. Some of it wrapped around his chest and face like spider legs. 

    The Overlord roared and lashed out, his hand morphing into claws like he wanted to pry the armor off of the nindroid. 

    Zane caught his wrist. Golden light exploded. Pythor could only cover his eyes. 

    When he opened them again, the Overlord was gone. Only his cane sat on the ground.

    “Well that’s a nuisance taken care of.” Zane dusted his gi off. “You’re not going to kick up a fuss, are you?” He looked at Pythor.

    Pythor just shook his head, still at a loss for words.

    “Good, then I’m out of here. Taking the rest of the nindroids with me. They’re wasting their time on your stupid little plans.” Zane headed toward the door. 

    “And what are your plans?” Pythor finally stuttered out. “Weren’t you supposed to be one of the heroes?” 

    “Why do you care? Do you want in?” The droid tilted his head back when he looked at Pythor. “Don’t bother. This ‘bucket of bolts’ doesn’t want anything to do with you. I’d count your blessings you’re still around, yeah?” He smiled. “See you around, Pythor.” 

----

    “You have to be kidding me.” Kai finally broke the silence that followed Pythor’s story. 

    “I am not kidding.” Pythor spat. “You can go look in the tower and see for yourself. Now let me go.” 

    “We can’t just let you go.” Lloyd growled. “You’re going to prison, whether you like it or not.” 

    “I’ll keep an eye on him.” Cole said. “Kai, Jay, you two go check the tower.” 

    “I’m coming too.” Lloyd insisted. Partially to see the answers for himself, but also just to get away from Pythor. “We should also get Nya to sweep the city looking for any nindroids.”

    “He took them with him.” Pythor shouted after them. “They’re all gone.”

    “Like we’re going to trust you.” Lloyd spat. Kai put a hand on his shoulder. 

    Lloyd sighed, picking up his pace and trying to ignore his own thoughts. Why did Zane do this? What did he mean by “or am I even him?” Lloyd was suddenly very frightened by the idea that their friend hadn’t been in there for a while. 

    But if that was the case then who was he? Where did he come from?

    This was all too confusing. Part of him hoped Pythor was telling the truth, that this nightmare was over, but if that was the case it still left them with too many questions.

    Most of which Lloyd may never get the answers to.

[lemondropsssss]

ok but imagine jaskier has to take geralt home to lettenhove for some reason.

and maybe ciri is there, maybe they’re on the way to kher morhn and they run out of food money and supplies and it’s not like geralt can take a contract what with his armor and swords under the ruins of cintra. and jaskier just looks at their tired wet cold faces and is like fuck.

im gonna have to see my family aren’t i. and so he takes them to lettenhove and his plan is to leave them at the inn outside the gates bribe the gaurds and then get food and supplies from the household staff he can trust and neither geralt nor his family would be any the wiser.

but the fucking minute he steps into town someone shouts “master julian!” and he’s totally fucked. it’s the old fletcher who worked in the castle when he was a boy, who had let jaskier watch his work even when he was supposed to be at his lessons. and it isn’t like he can ignore the man, he showed him such kindness as a boy.

so jaskier goes to talk to him while ciri and geralt share the same look of “master??? julian???” but then more of the lettenhove townspeople take notice and more and more want to come greet good master julian who was always such a nice boy, and isn’t it lovely he’s finally come home and is that his daughter isn’t she lovely

when the attention shifts to ciri geralt is immediately protective and on guard but jaskier seems comfortable with these people so he stops himself from audibily growling. just.

and jaskier extracts himself when he hears the tromp of booted feet and sighs deeply but steps in front of geralt to meet the soldiers. both his companions tense behind him but he just greets amrah with a cheery smile. the man gives him a slight bow and now geralt and ciri are completely lost because usually soldiers plus jaskier leads to geralt poking holes in people.

they follow the soldiers up the road to the keep. both ciri and geralt have questions. a lot of questions. so many questions. but when they both try to ask jaskier shoots them a warning look and shakes his head. he trusts the people of lettenhove, but there is a war on, and even the kindest people can be turned if their children’s lives hang in the balance.

there’s a young woman waiting in the yard when they arrive. she’s beautiful, long dark hair and a smile tucked away but close to the surface. jaskier bows deeply to her, ciri curtsies, and geralt inclines his head which is just about the same respect he offers anyone.

“you’ve returned. how delightful.” she does not look delighted. “you will follow me, and listen intently while i shout at you. your companions will be delivered to your rooms to await you”

jaskier looks about to argue but holds his tongue. he and geralt have a wordless conversation over ciri’s head before the witcher grunts and tilts his head in acquiescence and he and ciri follow the waiting servant.

they’re delivered to a set of rooms nicely decorated but lacking any kind personality.

“geralt what is-“

“I don’t know”

“but who’s juli-“

“I don’t know”

“why was that woman-“

“ci- fiona. if i knew i would tell you” geralt did not want to explain to his child surprise the concept of a kept man.

when jaskier comes back geralt does a cursorary scent, but the bard just smells like stress and his lavender hand cream. his hair stands up like it does when he’s been messing with it, but he looks no worse for wear.

“well. this wasn’t exactly what i had in mind when i suggested resupplying here”

“jaskier”

“yes dear witcher?”

“what. the actual fuck. is going on. if you’ve brought us to another house you’ve cuckolded-“

“what? you think? geralt! that’s my baby sister!”

of all the answers geralt thought he’d get, that wasn’t one of them.

“but you’re a bard”

“what, do you think bards just pop out of the ground fully formed? gods geralt, ive never known you to be thick. i told you we were coming here.”

“no, you said we were coming to lettenhove, you never said anything about a sister!”

“22 years and he still can’t remember my name. fiona, dear, do you remember how i introduced myself when we first met?”

“julian alfred pankratz, viscount de lettenhove, and the greatest bard who ever lived” ciri parrots from her place across the room, sprawled out on the soft bed.

“thank you dear. don’t fall asleep, we’re all expected at supper.”

“jaskier.” it’s geralt’s ‘tell me now or i throw you off the battlements’ growl.

“yes yes, fine. i left when i was very yong. technically i was supposed to return from my life as a wandering bard when my father died. you can probably tell i did not obey that particular order. vanya, my sister and the lady de lettenhove, took over day to day affairs some time ago and from what I heard was doing a fantastic job, much better than i ever could. so i just. haven’t come home.” he shrugs “the people were happy with her, she enjoys caring for them, and i don’t belong here. i wasn’t ever planning to come back but well. we are in desperate need of money and supplies if we’re ever to reach kher morhn alive.”

and geralt is geralt so coping mechanisms are limited when you find out that almost always desolate bard who’s floated around you for 25 years is also a fucking lord. so he copes poorly by crossing his arms frowning and not saying anything at all. because strange new lordling jaskier also has a reasonable point, which is distressing to geralt for a whole hoast of reasons he doesn’t himself understand.

so geralt agrees and they stay for dinner while supplies, including mounts for all three of them, are prepared. and if geralt notices vanya watching him he doesn’t mention it. he doesn’t smell fear off her, but people have plenty of reasons to watch a witcher at their table, so he doesn’t bregrudge her it.

they send ciri off to bed before the meal is done, the girl is almost asleep in her stew. jaskier and geralt excuse themselves shortly after.

“master witcher? a moment, if you please.” vanya’s low voice stops them, and after a silent exchange geralt lets jaskier leave them.

“is there something i can do for you, my lady?”

vanya smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“not as such. please, sit. no need to stand on formality here.”

so he sits stiffly, not sure why this woman would ask for him.

“my brother is a strange man. always has been. such an odd boy, always with his head in the clouds.” the smile on her face and affection in her voice are the only thing that stop him from growling at the way she speaks of jaskier. “he loves you.” that gives him pause. “you know it. he knows it. half the continent knows it and there’s a war on. tell me, master witcher. do you intend to break my brothers heart again?”

she’s smiling but her words are sharp, and they cut at geralt. their reunion after the dragon hunt hadn’t been what geralt had wanted. ciri had been with him, and geralt knew most of the reason jaskier had agreed to travel together again was the girl. they’d been off with each other ever since, dancing around the past without ever coming close.

“i don’t know what you’ve heard, my lady, but jaskier and i never had-“

“spare me, please. i knowmore about my brothers proclivities than any sister should ever have to.” again, the smile that didn’t meet her eyes “you’re a witcher, so any threat of bodily harm i make is a moot point. but hurt my brother again, and I am sure i could think of something very creative for you to endure.”

she gets up to leave but turns back. “ask him to sing you her sweet kiss. that should make everything clear, even to a man like yourself”

ciri is asleep on the cot in front of the fire when geralt gets back. jaskier is plucking mindlessly at his lute, but puts it away when geralt gets back.

“what did my sister want?”

geralt grunts but says nothing, going about getting ready for bed.

“loquacious as always my friend” but jaskier put away his lute and slipped under the covers. they’d taken to all sharing a room on the road, easiest to reach ciri if she had a nightmare and less coin spent on rooms for him and geralt.

“hmm” geralt’s questioning hum.

“yes?”

“what’s her sweet kiss?”

jaskier falters, his heartbeat increases, and geralt can hear him picking at his fingers as he does when he’s nervous.

“why are you asking me about a song i wrote? you’ve never done that, you don’t care about my songs.”

“what is it?”

but jaskier doesn’t answer. he curls up under the blankets, closes his eyes, evens his breathing. geralt could challenge him again but doesn’t. he extinguishes the candles and joins jaskier in bed, each man firmly on his side.

they don’t talk about it in the morning. jaskier is quiet as they pack. he kisses his sister goodbye, chats quickly with the household staff. then all three mount up with their full packs and new cloaks and they’re off.

geralt wants to ask again about her sweet kiss, and what vanya could have meant, but he doesn’t. saves that conversation for kher morhn. winter is long, and a mountain is as good a place as any to get something off your chest

[httpjeon]

𝟎𝟏. ʏ ɪs ᴀ ᴄʀᴏᴏᴋᴇᴅ ʟᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ — ᴊᴊᴋ (ᴍ.)

jungkook/reader | angst | hybrid!au

wordcount: 5.2k

contents: police officer!jungkook, k-9 hybrid!taehyung, tattooed!taekook, hybrid crimes, discrimination/mistreatment of hybrids, mentions of blood&death, guns — nothing too graphic yet

— synopsis: jeon jungkook and his k-9 hybrid, taehyung, are sent deep under cover to infiltrate a deadly underground hybrid fighting ring. it's a dangerous job and both are terrified about what they will see and endure.

note: welcome to a new hybrid series!

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑:

ᴛʜɪs ғɪᴄ sᴇʀɪᴇs ᴡɪʟʟ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴀʏ ʙᴇ ᴜɴsᴇᴛᴛʟɪɴɢ, ᴛʀɪɢɢᴇʀɪɴɢ, ᴏʀ ᴜɴᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛᴀʙʟᴇ ᴛᴏ sᴏᴍᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀs.

ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀʟʟ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs ᴛʜᴏʀᴏᴜɢʜʟʏ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴄᴇᴇᴅɪɴɢ.

ɪ ᴀᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇsᴘᴏɴsɪʙʟᴇ ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄʜᴏᴏsᴇ ᴛᴏ ɪɢɴᴏʀᴇ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs ʟɪsᴛᴇᴅ. ʜᴏᴡᴇᴠᴇʀ ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ғɪɴᴅ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ғᴇᴇʟ ɴᴇᴇᴅs ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀɢɢᴇᴅ, ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ.

blog masterlist

Jungkook sipped his coffee, wincing as it burnt his tongue as he slipped into the doors of the department building. The air conditioner was on full blast even though it was mid-winter, he could feel goosebumps rising on his skin as a shiver traveled through his body despite him wearing a leather jacket. His heavy boot steps turned silent when the linoleum met the carpet of the office area. 

He kept his head down, hoping to avoid any interaction with his coworkers. The brim of his hat his his eyes. While he couldn’t see the TV, he could hear the news rattling on from where it was perched on the wall. 

"And in most recent news,” the man said, “Following the recent protests against hybrids' newly granted rights, the city has decided to create a police force solely dedicated to the protection of hybrids and their rights," the news anchor droned voice even and professional as to not reveal any opinion on the matter, "We can only hope the Hybrid Protection Force can stop the new wave of crimes against hybrids."

"Hey Jeon," a fellow cop, by the name of Doyeon, yawned in greeting, sharp eyes angled down at him coldly from where he was leaned back against his desk, "Saw you're packin' your desk up. Where you headin'? You take that job offer over in Busan or somethin'?

Jungkook breezed past him to his own desk, feeling the eyes following him as the cop awaited a response. 

"No," Jungkook sighed, already growing tired of the barrage of questions, as he placed his coffee cup down in favor of placing the final pieces of his in his desk into the cardboard box beside him.

"Where's Taehyung?" Doyeon asked, not put off by Jungkook cold behavior.

Jungkook rolled his eyes, "Over in the new building waiting for me," he replied easily, placing a picture frame carefully in the box.

Doyeon made a sound of disgust before scoffing, "The Hybrid Protection Force Department? Why's he over there?"

"Because that's where I'm moving to," Jungkook answered mechanically, an admission that drew him even more attention — very unwanted attention at that.

"What?!" Doyeon gasped, drawing the eyes of the other cops who stood around their desks, "They moved you there? What the hell for?"

"They didn't move me," Jungkook answered, leaning on his hands against his desk with his head hanging between his shoulders, "I asked for the transfer."

"Dude..." Doyeon snorted, a sound that made Jungkook cringe, "Why would you move there? Half the departments in the country would give their eye teeth to snatch you up and you choose to join the grunts and do hybrid work? Are you insane? How the hell are you supposed to advance your career if you choose a stupid, useless path like that?"

"You seem to be forgetting I have a hybrid, Doyeon," Jungkook growled, clutching the edge of his desk so hard his knuckles turned white.

"Yeah but..." Doyeon, oblivious as ever, huffed, "He’s just your K-9 hybrid. For the best cop of your year to work for hybrids...it's a shit choice, dude."

"Doyeon," Jungkook stood up straight, rolling his shoulders until one popped. "You're my senior here but don't think for a second I won't knock you on your ass for talking to me like that. What I do for my career doesn't concern you," he picked up the cardboard box by the two holes cut out angrily, jostling the objects inside so they rattled loudly, "The reason I chose the Hybrid Force is because of people like you. I'll use my ability and status to do some good, unlike you who only cares about furthering his own career. You're a cop — you're supposed to protect the citizens of this country whether human or not."

Doyeon finally looked a bit flustered, his jaw locked as he felt the eyes of the other cops burning into him. He held his head high, however, trying to pretend he didn’t feel humiliated being called out by Jungkook in front of everyone. 

Jungkook stood there, glaring at the man for several long seconds before finally storming past him, ignoring the whispers and mutters from the other cops and staff who had witnessed the interaction.

He stepped into the cold outside, his boots crunching on the snow that covered the sidewalk. Usually someone would have cleared it off but it seemed not today. He began his short walk to the newly built building across the property, keeping his eyes on the ground to avoid large piles of snow or sheets of ice. 

The building was put up fairly quickly despite the HPD being formed only a month prior — the city had expedited the construction. It contrasted drastically against the old main building, which was over 50 years old. It was in desperate need of renovation but the city wasn’t willing to pay for it — something that angered the anti-hybrid citizens. 

Hopping up the stairs, taking two at a time, while he balanced his box between his hip and arm to free his other to open the door. Just like the other building, the air conditioning was running and he rolled his eyes, wondering if he could get someone to turn heating on instead. Still, he was thankful for the jacket, jeans, and boots he wore.

His superiors had long since stopped trying to force him into the police uniforms, allowing him to dress as he pleased. When he was new to the Department, he got plenty of write ups but as his reputation and rank grew, he was allowed to freedom to dress how he liked.

He nodded at the receptionist, breezing through the security scanner, thankfully not sending anything off.

"Jungkookie!" he heard the enthusiastic call of his best friend, "You're late!"

"Sorry, I got caught by Doyeon — you know how he is..." Jungkook huffed, making Taehyung scoff.

"Total jerk," Taehyung nodded, black ears bouncing atop his head. His tail wagged excitedly as Jungkook followed him over to their desks — connected right across from one another separated by two desktop terminals for their work.

It was still a relatively empty in the office — not many officers having been assigned to the force yet. Still, the few cops that were there were lower rank than Jungkook himself so they avoided one mostly another.

Jungkook’s reputation led to many people avoiding him, not wanting conflict or because he intimidated them. Taehyung, on the other hand, easily made friends and was somewhat of a social butterfly with a good reputation.

He placed his box on his side of the desk, chuckling when Taehyung sat in his own chair and began spinning in circles. Jungkook shed his leather jacket, placing it on the back of his chair and pushed his sleeves up, the array of tattoos covering his arms making themselves known to anyone who looked.

It had been 7 years since he got his first one alongside Taehyung — who had also become increasingly inked up as the years passed. A tattooed hybrid was one of the most uncommon things seen in society, so the Labrador pup got a good amount of looks and comments daily.

He didn't really mind, however, he was confident and happy and that was all Jungkook really cared about at the end of the day.

Opening one of his drawers, he began to organize the files he'd brought with him. He placed the picture of him and Taehyung on his desk. It was dated, he needed to put newer one up but it was sentimental — it was taken the day before they entered the Police Academy together.

It'd been hard getting though, many nights ending in argument between the two due to stress and exhaustion.

Jungkook looked up, smiling when he saw Taehyung was still spinning in his chair happily.

Everything was worth it, in the end. They were partners and were going to be doing good work to help better the world.

"Hey," Taehyung suddenly said, voice dropping a few octaves. The change in tone had Jungkook's attention immediately. "Look who it is."

Jungkook followed his friends gaze to find his eyes met with the sharp ones belonging to none other than Min Yoongi.

"Jeon, Kim!" both heads snapped up at the sound of their names being shouted before they shared a look.

Standing on the landing of the second floor, leaning over the balcony overlooking the main office was a man dressed in a suit, blonde hair slicked back off of his face. His sharp eyes were fixed on them as he gazed down, “My office,” he said before turning around, vanishing from sight. 

Jungkook was the first to move, standing up with Taehyung following close behind.

"Shut the door," the man said once they walked in. The click of the door closing was his signal to start, "My name is Kim Namjoon, I'm the appointed Captain of this department."

Inside, sitting on a chair in front of the Captain’s desk was another man. He wore a bred expression and sat slouched in his chair with his foot tapping impatiently.

“This is Min Yoongi, he’s from the Daegu Police Department,” Namjoon introduced, although they both had definitely heard of Min Yoongi.

"Pleasure to meet you both," Taehyung said immediately, bowing his head slightly.

"The two of you are the highest ranking officers I currently have in this department," Namjoon said, sitting on the edge of his desk with a sigh, "I'd like to be as transparent with you as possible on the core purpose of this department's development."

"Core purpose?" Taehyung asked, head cocked to the side and ears alertly perked up from his mess of black hair.

Namjoon nodded, picking up a folder that was sitting beside him and handed it to Jungkook. He opened it, the other two looking over his shoulder curiously.

"It's a file," Jungkook mumbled. "For a Park Jimin? He's listed as undercover, are we allowed to be seeing this?"

"I wouldn't be showing you unless it was important," Namjoon explained, "Park Jimin is with the Hybrid K9 Unit from the Daegu Department. He has been deep undercover within Korea's biggest and most notorious hybrid fighting ring for over 2 years," his gaze shifted to Yoongi, “He’s the reason Yoongi has been transferred over.”

Yoongi nodded, making the other two look at him in confusion, “What’s he got to do with us?”

“Jimin is my partner,” Yoongi replied, 

"I wasn't aware hybrids were allowed to go undercover two years ago," Jungkook said, brows furrowed.

"And since when does Korea give a rats ass about hybrids trafficked in the underground, anyway?" Taehyung grumbled, mood quickly plummeting.

“Originally, this was a DPD case but with the new Hybrid Unit here in Seoul, it’s been transferred over to be handled by us specifically,” Namjoon explained, "Jimin is a special case but we're not here to discuss the ins and outs of his career."

"Then what are we here for?" Jungkook asked as Taehyung took the folder from his hands to read more closely.

"What do they have to do with the core purpose of this Unit?" Taehyung urged, tail beginning to flick impatiently as he motioned over to Yoongi.

"For the past two years Jimin has been undercover, he has been steadily feeding us information regarding this specific ring. The Hybrid Protection Force was actually secretly formed years ago centered around the confidential mission of breaking this ring up," Yoongi spoke up again, "Unfortunately, Jimin can only rank so far up within the ring due to being a hybrid himself. It's taken a lot of time but he's reached a position where he can't advance by himself."

"So you're pulling him?" Jungkook asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"No," Namjoon looked all three of them in the eyes, "We're sending two more undercover."

"It's taken Jimin two years to get as far as he has," Taehyung frowned, quickly realizing what the plan was, "It's going to take us just as long to advance."

"That's not necessary," Namjoon said, puzzling the two of them, "Jimin is in a position of recruitment — taking new masters and hybrids in for the fighting. The two of you will be the new members."

"What about Yoongi?" Jungkook asked, “Shouldn’t you be with Jimin?” his gaze shifted to the man in the seat.

Yoongi sighed, “Unfortunately, at the time they didn’t want a pair. Jimin volunteered to go— I didn’t like it but I couldn’t tell him no. He’s on a solo mission, I can’t join him now,” he explained, “I’ll do the work here, preparing everything for the bust when the time comes.”

"I'm not sure about this..." Jungkook admitted, shifting uneasily on his feet.

"What's the problem?" Namjoon asked, meeting Jungkook's gaze.

"This is a fighting ring...Taehyung..." Jungkook sighed, "This will put him in serious danger."

"Danger is part of your job, Jungkook," Namjoon snapped, eyes narrowed.

"I know that but..."

"It's alright," Taehyung placed a hand on Jungkook's shoulder, "We won't be undercover for long...right?" he looked at Namjoon.

"That's right," Namjoon nodded, "Highballing it; a year, but I highly doubt that.”

"Alright," Jungkook sighed, nodding his head, "What’s the goal here then?"

“What we need from the two of you is to join this ring with Jimin’s recruitment,” Namjoon explained, “He’s gotten everything ready on his end. Once you've infiltrated, you'll pose as a new master and hybrid and engage in the fights.”

“You have to appear eager,” Yoongi suddenly said, looking over his shoulder at the other two, “Join in on any and all fights that you can. The more eager you are, the more attention you'll gain...especially if you win.”

"I've arranged with Jimin to have a meeting in a week," Namjoon said, "The two of you will have to be caught up with everything by then. Information can be found in your terminals for you to review along with the stories and identities you're going with. I'll have files delivered to you on those, you know how it works–”

“Memorize names, locations, dates, and social security numbers,” Taehyung and Jungkook said at the same time.

“That's right,” the Captain smiled and stood up straight, “Take the file with you. You're dismissed.”

The three of them bowed as Namjoon took his seat behind his own desk, turning his gaze to his computer terminal. Shutting the door behind them, they heaved a collective sigh. With much weighing on their minds, they all silently walked to their desks.

Both Taehyung and Jungkook were tense for the entirety of the day. The hybrid's good mood had quickly vanished and Jungkook couldn't help but look at his companion in concern.

He turned his eyes to his monitor, file after file detailing the people associated with the fighting ring.

The particular ring they were investigating was also the closest in relation to the Black Market. In fact, many of the higher-ups within the crime syndicate were Black Market sellers — illegally trafficking hybrids. It was a dark business and the more Jungkook read about it the sicker he felt.

He could only imagine how the hybrid across from him was feeling.

Jungkook's keys jingled in his hands as he unlocked his front door — it was a simple first-floor apartment with two bedrooms though truthfully the other room was more of a spare since Taehyung never slept in it. He always opted to sleep with Jungkook and the human was all too willing to oblige.

Taehyung was precariously balancing the fast food bags and drinks in his hands. His dog genes helped his balance and he easily nudged the door shut with his foot.

"God, I am beat," Jungkook groaned as he tossed his keys down on the counter separating the kitchen from the living room.

Taehyung hummed in agreement as he sat down on the couch and placed the food on the coffee table. He grabbed the remote and clicked the TV on, mostly for background noise.

Jungkook kicked his boots off and walked down the short hallway to the bedroom, eager to get out of his jeans and put on some sweatpants. He went back out, dressed in a department-issued t-shirt that was overworn so the print on the front was faded.

"Hey Tae—" Jungkook paused in the entryway to the living room. Taehyung was hunched over, elbows on his knees as he rested his chin on his hands. His eyes were locked in on the TV; the news, "You okay?"

"I dunno," Taehyung confessed, sighing when he felt Jungkook reach up to pet his ears.

"Tell me what's on your mind," Jungkook urged, leaning back against the couch and encouraging Taehyung to do the same.

"Human on hybrid crimes are the biggest epidemic in Korea," Taehyung grumbled, "It's only gotten worse since the government has opened up to allow us rights. It's not much, we're still fucking owned like animals and we can even be euthanized," he met Jungkook's gaze and shrugged his shoulders sheepishly, "No offense, you know I love you."

"I know," Jungkook smiled, patting the hybrid's back to urge him on.

Of course he knew that Taehyung would never include him in the “humans are terrible” category. Even Jungkook openly admitted how terrible people could be to hybrids. Taehyung always felt lucky to have someone who supported him and his kind so openly. Many hybrids ended up in awful situations that resulted in injury or death. 

Taehyung was glad he never ended up being another statistic. 

"The trafficking of hybrids is by far the worst and highest committed crime but humans would rather stay investigating every day thefts and shit," Taehyung spat, malice coating every word as he continued on, "They treat hybrid crimes like they're nothing! It infuriates me! Every day on the news there's another hybrid being kidnapped or found dead after being sold on the black market," Taehyung's eyes were glassy as he clenched his teeth through his anger, "When there's protests, the government does nothing but offer empty words and promises. They'd rather keep the idiots who want hybrids to stay nothing but pets happy than protect a whole race!"

"I know being on this force means a lot to you Taehyung," Jungkook cooed, still stroking his friends ears, keeping him relaxed, "You know I'm with you one hundred percent but...do you think you'll really be able to do this? You're going to be doing a lot of things that go against your morals and you're going to see so much awful shit. Hell, I may even have to blend in with those pieces of shit."

"I..." Taehyung sniffled, resting his head on Jungkook's shoulder, "Truthfully, Jungkook. I'm just...I'll have to fight them."

"You feel guilty," Jungkook whispered, feeling Taehyung nod against his shoulder.

"I know most, if not all, are probably going to be there against their will and I'll only be adding onto what they already go through," Taehyung whispered, voice watery as he finally let his tears fall.

"Yeah I get it," Jungkook resting his cheek atop Taehyung's head, whose ears twitched when his breath fanned over them, "But it's for the greater good in the end, yeah? We'll be able to get them out of there and they'll be able to get real help."

"I guess you're right," Taehyung sniffled, sitting up to wipe his tears away with the back of his hand, "I'm going to get dressed for bed and then we can eat. It's probably cold by now."

"It's okay, we love cold french fries," Jungkook chuckled, making Taehyung smile, flicking the channel to something more light-hearted instead of the news.

The rest of the week was filled with a heavy feeling neither of them could shake. The two of them going through the motions of work and returning home to snuggle in bed, ignoring the looming mission they were going to be undertaking. 

They were both terrified of what could happen but neither was willing to speak of their fears. 

The day before the operation was set to begin, Namjoon called them into his office before Jungkook could even think of taking off his jacket.

"Yes Captain?" Jungkook greeted, taking a seat in one of the two chairs in front of Namjoon's desk with Taehyung occupying the other.

"I’d like to go over your new identities to be sure you're both well prepared," he said, sliding two folders over to them.

"Yeah that'll be no problem," Jungkook replied nonchalantly, grabbing the folder in front of him and flipping it open.

He’d already memorized everything he needed to but he still scanned the papers inside. Taehyung did the same as Namjoon watched.

A new, fake ID was taped inside along with a couple papers of information. As Jungkook scanned, he soaked in the gist of his new identity.

"Han Jungseok," Jungkook chuckled, the name sounding weird rolling off his tongue, "Code name JK."

"As you’ve learned through your research, it's common practice within the Underground for people to go by codenames," Namjoon explained, "It's more common for humans than hybrids but Taehyung will be going by V anyway."

"Cool name," Taehyung mumbled, looking through his own papers.

"Now, Jungkook," Namjoon said, leaning over to open a drawer. He pulled out a set of keys and a cellphone, sliding them across the surface of his desk until Jungkook grabbed them, "The department will be providing a car for you along with a cellphone. They may confiscate it but Jimin assures me when they accept you, they'll return it. This has phone numbers that you will need to contact throughout your time under cover including the one you will call when you're ready to begin the bust. Officers will be on standby the entire time for your word so use it only when you're positive, understand? You'll have one shot and that's it."

"I understand," Jungkook replied, confidence flowing through him. He knew how this went, he'd been undercover countless times in the past.

Though he knew, deep down, how different this was from the past times. The weight of this operation wasn't lost on him, in fact it'd kept him up restless the past few nights as the date came closer and closer.

"There's also an apartment that will be serving as your residence during the operation," Namjoon said, "It's probably not as nice as your current one but it'll be home from tomorrow on.”

"Yes Sir," Taehyung and Jungkook said in unison.

"The two of you take the day to correlate everything, learn your identities, and get prepared," Namjoon ordered, eyes following as the two cops stood up.

"Thank you, Captain," Jungkook said, bowing. Taehyung followed his lead before the two of them left the office.

The car door slammed as Taehyung got inside, casting the two of them in darkness when the interior light shut off. Jungkook put the key in the ignition and cranked the engine. They were both quiet, the weight of where they were going heavy in their minds.

"We're meeting Jimin downtown," Jungkook said to break the silence, "You got your story straight, right?"

"Yep," Taehyung replied, eyes gazing out the window, "You bought me off the market and you've had me for 2 months."

Jungkook nodded as his partner rehearsed their cover. It fell silent again, Taehyung’s eyes pinned to his hands as they were folded in his lap. 

"Are you nervous?" Jungkook asked, glancing at the hybrid out of the corner of his eye.

"Honestly?" Taehyung asked, finally looking at Jungkook. The human nodded, already knowing what the response was going to be, "My hearts beating so fast I can hear it in my ears. I'm scared I'll fuck this up. We've been undercover countless times before and I've never worried about making a mistake like I am now."

"I think appearing more anxious will be a good thing," Jungkook said, not missing the way his own voice wobbled, "I know regardless you can sell this and I know you can do it but being anxious will be more believable if you're being forced into the underground ring."

"I hope you're right," Taehyung whispered, gnawing on his lip.

Jungkook’s grip on the wheel tightened and be swallowed thickly — he hoped he was right too.

The neighborhoods slowly became darker and less well-maintained. Jungkook would sigh whenever he'd hit a pothole, whispering that he was thankful it wasn't his car. Taehyung couldn’t help but crack a smile at his muttering. 

The decrepit houses gradually disappeared and turned into warehouses -- in an even more secluded area than before. It set Taehyung's heart racing even faster and it was beginning to bleed into pain. He wished he had something to take to ease the anxiety.

Jungkook finally stopped the car and turned it off. The two of them sat there for a moment, gathering themselves before Jungkook stepped out first. He walked around the car and opened the door, jerking his head to order Taehyung out.

It was almost incredible how Jungkook could so easily fit into a role and persona he was given. It was one of the reasons he was so highly regarded in the undercover operations game — he certainly had a talent for it. The tight grip on his arm had him tensing but when Jungkook gently soothed his thumb over the soft skin, he relaxed slightly.

No matter how cold and detached he appeared, Taehyung couldn't lose sight of the fact it was Jungkook and none of this was real.

"You JK?" an accented voice had Jungkook pausing. The accent was extremely familiar and it immediately made his body tense.

Busan.

"Yeah I assume you're Jimin?" Jungkook responded, keeping his own voice level -- masking the anxiety that hammered at him.

"We'll have more company soon," the new hybrid whispered, anxiously looking over his shoulders. Large, pointed ears twitched in every direction as he listened out for footsteps. "I want to warn you. Whatever you've heard cannot describe what it's really like in the underground. It's much worse than what you think."

"They just...let you roam around alone?" Taehyung asked, not intending to have Jimin expand on what he meant. He'd be seeing for himself soon enough.

"I've gained their trust enough," Jimin shrugged his shoulders before suddenly freezing, "They're coming."

Taehyung's heart skipped a beat as Jungkook tightened his grip on his arm. The human’s face morphed into one of pure cold detachment, turning his nose up at the two hybrids. Jimin took a few steps back to a respectable distance, once gentle gaze turned cold as well.

"These the two?" a short, overweight man asked. He was flanked on either side by a tall, muscular man and a short, stocky guy.

"Yes Sir, JK and V," Jimin answered, hands shoved casually in his pockets.

"How'd you hear about our operation?" The man asked, wandering over to Taehyung, "My name's Hyo by the way."

"Who hasn't heard about it?" Jungkook chuckled, "I got this mutt here a couple months back and he put me out for a pretty penny. He's kind of a little shit so I thought he might as well be of use, right?"

"Right, right, I understand," Hyo chuckled, circling around Taehyung, "He purebred?"

"Black Lab," Jungkook nodded, forcing himself to not check if Taehyung was okay though he could feel the trembles of his partner beneath his grip.

"Damn, hard to find Pures on the Market," Hyo hummed, circling the timid hybrid, "He's a pretty thing. It's a shame his face'll get busted up."

"Not like he can do any other work," Jungkook chuckled, making Hyo smirk.

"Jae!" Hyo shouted, making Taehyung jump. The stocky man immediately walked up to Jungkook, making him stiffen in alarm, "Hope you don't mind, it’s just a formality. Can't be too careful in this line of work."

"Ah..." Jungkook let out a harsh exhale when Jae began to pat him down, "I understand."

Jae worked Jungkook's cell phone out of his pocket and handed it to Hyo, which made Jungkook uneasy. He also took his keys and wallet which was also given to Hyo, who opened it and began to look through everything inside. Then, Jae moved on to search Taehyung which was a quick process since the hybrid didn't have anything on him.

"Just a little cash, card, and ID," Hyo said, announcing it to the three other men working for him, "Kim Jungseok, born in 1997, residence here in Seoul. I hear your accent though, where are you from?"

"Um, Busan," Jungkook responded after clearing his throat.

"All clear," Jae called from behind Taehyung, returning to Hyo's side.

"Jae, here," Jungkook watched nervously as Hyo handed his ID to Jae, "Go scope it out."

"Another formality?" Jungkook chuckled, watching as Jae made his way to the car, confiscated keys dangling from his fingers.

"Like I said..." Hyo paused, looking at the two of them,  "Can't be too careful."

"Yeah, I guess so," Jungkook mumbled, glancing at where Jimin stood straight and stiff. 

"Well, follow me," Hyo said, "Jimin, go open up."

The hybrid immediately rushed to do as he was told, unlocking the padlock on the garage door with a small key before pulling it open. It made a loud series of metallic bangs as he pushed it up about halfway.

They all crouched down and entered, Jimin letting the door slam back down behind them. The sound made Taehyung flinch, something Hyo caught sight of.

"Better take care of that, pooch," He sneered, "The others catch even a hint of weakness and they'll tear you to pieces. Wouldn't be much use to your Master if you were a broken mess, would you?"

Taehyung clenched his jaw, looking away from Hyo before scoffing. Hyo didn't seem to appreciate it when he suddenly reached out and grabbed hold of Taehyung's hair, making the hybrid yelp in surprise. Jungkook forced himself not to do anything, simply staring with almost detached boredom while his insides were burning with anger at his best friend being treated like that.

"You answer when a human is talking to you, Mutt," Hyo growled. Jungkook watched, forcing himself not to intervene as Taehyung spat out a half-assed apology that the man thankfully accepted, "You weren't kidding when you said he was a little shit, huh?"

Jungkook barked out a laugh, casting a glance at Taehyung while everyone's backs were turned, "Yeah maybe getting his ass kicked will remedy the problem."

"Oh no doubt!" Hyo laughed, pausing when they finally reached the middle of the warehouse, "Lots of people come in with disobedient animals. The ring really teaches them to straighten up."

Jungkook looked around, nodding his head at Hyo's words. It was mostly empty, clearly not used for anything in particular. Most likely, it was just for meetings like the one Jungkook was currently in. One thing he did notice, however, is a foul smell emanating from somewhere within the large area. 

It was strangely familiar, it made him uneasy. 

"You know JK," Hyo sighed, a strong put-on sound that had the hair on the back of Jungkook's neck standing on end, "The biggest problem we have out of recruits would have to be...they like to lie."

There was a loud click and both Taehyung and Jungkook froze on the spot. The tall unnamed man had a gun pointed at Jungkook's head.

It was then he realized what the smell was.

The vile stench of blood and death.

[toxoiddiamond]

T H E B A S I C S Given Name: Ryoga Zaizen Nicknames: Ryo Age: 38 Birthday: September 5th Zodiac Sign: Virgo Birthplace: Hakodate, Japan Current Location: He recently moved to Gzira, Malta, after having lived in Yokohama, Japan for nearly thirteen years. Speaks: He is fluent in both Japanese and English. He is starting to learn Maltese, but can only have a very basic conversation at this point. Dominant Hand: Right Education: He completed junior high, but opted not to continue on to high school and started working instead so he could help out his family. Occupation: Voice actor, mostly in anime and video games. Most of his voice work is in Japanese, but he occasionally does some in English as well. Every once in a great while, he does some live action acting, but it’s not his preference. Vehicle: 2018 Peugeot 5008 SUV in navy blue. Worldly Possessions: Some very nice recording equipment that allows him to do his voicework from home. A small family altar that he doesn’t actually pray to, but likes having around for nostalgic reasons. Lots of toys and things for his kids. Lots of DVDs and blu-rays of various films of all genres, with a whole shelf dedicated to family-friendly movies and shows. Pet(s): He recently got a one-year-old Shikoku Ken, partly to try and distract his kids from all the upheaval and turmoil in their lives at the moment. He wasn't too sure about having a dog at first, but now he really enjoys having a pet. The dog's name is Kotaro, meaning "small boy."

A P P E A R A N C E Height: 6'1" Hair: Ryoga enjoys trying all sorts of different colors and styles with his hair. He's had just about every color of the rainbow in his hair at some point, and when he was younger he experimented with having super long hair, mohawks, all kinds of things. Nowadays he tends to keep it cut into a more sophisticated, conservative style, but he still enjoys dyeing it various colors. Currently it is a light blue-gray. Facial Hair: He prefers to be clean-shaven. Eye Colour: Dark brown Skin Tone: He enjoys spending time outdoors, so he isn't super pale or anything; he has almost an olive undertone to his skin. Clothing: Most of the time he dresses in a fairly casual manner; his go-to look is skinny jeans paired with a graphic tee and either Vans or combat boots. But he also cleans up very nicely when the occasion arises. He has a few suits in various colors, patterns and styles and they all look amazing on him. Ryoga has a good sense of fashion and always manages to dress perfectly for any occasion. Distinguishing Marks: He has tattoos– like, so many tattoos on his arms, hands, chest, back, legs, basically everywhere except his face tbh. Face Claim: Miyavi

H E A L T H Physical Health: For the most part, his health is pretty good– he takes good care of himself, exercises, eats well, etc, especially because he wants to set a good example for his kids. However, he has had mild issues with his heart ever since he was a teenager– he has a slight arrhythmia and bradycardia (slow heart rate), but has managed both conditions fairly well throughout his life. He has had to stay in the hospital a couple of times after his heart rate slowed enough to cause him to faint, but he now tries to stay active and take his medication regularly so it (hopefully) doesn’t happen again. Physical Abilities/Limitations: He has a lot of upper body strength, partly from working out and partly from carrying his daughter around all over the place. He is also surprisingly flexible and enjoys doing yoga and tai chi as a form of gentle exercise. He’s always been good at imitating people/doing impressions and putting on different voices, which is what eventually led him to becoming a voice actor. Addictions: He used to drink a lot, but completely gave up alcohol in his mid-twenties, around the time he got married. This was partly because he wanted to try and be a more responsible person, and partly because his doctor recommended that he give up, or at least cut way back, on alcohol for the sake of his heart. Allergies: Shellfish Mental Health: Ryoga is under a lot of stress right now, so he’s not at his best. He’s had a lot of anxiety over his (very messy) divorce, then a brutal custody battle (he ended up getting sole custody), and then having to get a restraining order against his ex-wife when she kept showing up at their home and trying to get the kids to come with her, then throwing fits when Ryoga stopped her from taking them. Now that they’ve moved to a whole other country, he feels a bit better, less nervous, but he’s still constantly worried that his ex is going to show up any day. He has done his best to drill it into the kids’ heads that if their mom shows up, they are not to go with her and they need to come get him or call the police right away.

H I S T O R Y Summary: Long or Short Job History: His first job was at a small, hole-in-the-wall beef bowl shop when he was fourteen– he started as a busboy but was quickly moved into a kitchen staff position. A couple of years later, he was scouted by a modeling agent and ended up falling into the world of fashion modeling. He wasn’t super famous or anything; he mostly modeled alternative/goth/street fashion rather than anything too mainstream. This allowed him to network with a lot of people who were able to pull some strings for him and get him auditions for voice work, and within a few years, he had transitioned fully into voice acting (which he is now actually pretty famous for– in Japan, at least). Fondest Memories: Some of his childhood memories, such as family trips, or evenings when everyone was home and actually hung out together instead of going to their separate rooms. His wedding day, which is bittersweet to look back on, but at the time was one of the happiest days of his life. The births of both his children. Various anime conventions he’s gone to– he loves meeting fans and talking to them. Worst Experiences: His father losing his job– it sent the entire family into a downward spiral of anxiety and Ryoga always felt he had to walk on eggshells around them. Having to skip out on high school so he could work and earn money to help his family. His parents being more than a little angry with him when he became a model, started getting tattoos, etc., since they thought he was “ruining his life.” His parents later disowning him when he told them he was dating a man. And, of course, the slow and painful death of his marriage which resulted in a very, very messy divorce.

C O M M U N I C A T I O N Speech Pace/Style: It depends on the situation. If he’s working or in a more professional setting, then he is very respectful, using only polite language. When he’s with friends, he’s louder and more outspoken, and far less polite– not that he’s rude, just that he has a bit of a mouth on him. With his kids, Ryoga is very laid-back for the most part, speaking calmly to them and keeping a patient, gentle tone. Even when he scolds them, he doesn’t raise his voice much, though he can be very firm when he needs to be. Accent: Ryoga has a noticeable Japanese accent when he speaks English, but it’s not so thick that it’s hard to understand him. He speaks very clearly and enunciates well. Favorite Phrases or Words: Tends to say “Aa! Sou?” when he’s surprised about something, which just means “oh, really?” Also tends to say “ehto” instead of “um” or “uh.” Usual Curse Words: He tries to watch his language when he’s with his kids, though he does slip up on occasion (and they always call him out for it). He does have quite a mouth on him though, both in English and in Japanese, and uses whatever curse word feels most appropriate for the moment.

P E R S O N A L I T Y, M I N D S E T, A N D B E L I E F S Personality Type: INFJ-T Sense of Humor: With his kids, he’s pretty goofy and silly, always joking around with them and keeping them entertained. He does a lot of voices that make them laugh. When he’s around adults, he’s more sarcastic but still on the goofy side more than anything. Habits: He is hardly ever barefoot– he always wears socks or house slippers when he’s inside. He tends to eat rice with every meal if possible, in some form or another, or else it doesn’t feel like an actual meal to him. If he’s wearing any nail polish or anything, he tends to pick at it whenever he gets nervous or stressed out. Quirks: Ryoga really enjoys treating himself to things like spa days, mani-pedis, massages, anything along those lines. He doesn’t do it all the time, but once a month or so he gets someone to watch the kids and just takes a full day to himself to relax. He also loves taking baths and keeps various bath salts and oils around so he can take a nice, long bath at home if he’s had a rough day. Fears/Phobias: Anything happening to his kids; he worries about them constantly. His ex-wife finding him and showing up, even though he has a restraining order against her. He also tends to be a bit secretive about his sexuality, after facing some backlash/discrimination for it in Japan– he’s not exactly afraid of anyone finding out that he’s bi, but there’s a reason why he doesn’t offer that information very freely. Strengths: Something Flaws: Something Hopes/Desires: Something Wildest Fantasy: Something Self-Esteem: Something Religion: Something

R A N D O M Sleeping Position: Something Boxers or Briefs?: Something Day or Night?: Something Top or Bottom?: Something Partying or Relaxing?: Something

R E L A T I O N S H I P S Closest Friend: Something Relationship History: Something Sexual Partners: Something Thoughts About Sex: Something

P A R E N T S Name(s): Mom and Dad Age(s): Ages Social Standing: Blue collar, white collar, whatever Occupation(s): What they do Religion: What do they believe Quality of Relationship With His Children: Is good or bad? Living/Deceased: Maybe they dead

S I B L I N G (S) Name(s): First Last Age(s): Ages Social Standing: Blue collar, white collar, whatever Occupation(s): What they do Religion: What do they believe Quality of Relationship with Character: Is good or bad? Living/Deceased: Maybe they dead

D A I L Y L I F E Living Arrangements: Where they live

[border-spam]

Regarding ur pain snippet, would Troy feel comfortable venting around Sei? And if yes, how would they handle it??

Troy doesn’t feel comfortable venting about it with anyone. He’s spent his entire life trying to not be pitied while stumbling in the shadow of Tyreen’s blinding light, demanding perfection from himself to hide physical weaknesses and chronic illness from the greedy eyes of the billions of online followers who obsess over the twin’s every recorded breath.

But if you know God King Calypso well enough, if you’re close enough to him?

There are gentle ways to reassure Father Troy it’s safe to tell you the truth.

Sei and Troy are very close. 

They weren’t originally, it was actually Tyreen who was far more in tune with Seifa in those first couple of months together, back when the twins were recovering on her ship after their first failed attempt at surviving on Pandora.

Ty was engaging, a bubbly young woman full of endearing chattiness and interested in everything Sei did. A hundred questions an hour as she followed Sei around the ship like, what are sponsorships? How do you get marks to keep their eye on you and not be distracted by competition? How do you move to make them hungry for your body? How do you know when you’ve gone too far? How do you read the room? How do you - 

Tyreen had a million hows and a mouth that never seemed to need to rest, but Troy was silent. He had his reasons... he didn’t want to be there after all. 

Pandora had been cruel to them both from the moment their worn soles crunched into its acrid dust, but it had hurt Troy. Really, it had almost killed him.

He’d been left sick, uncomfortable in his own stretched skin, and wary of anyone who was other - which meant Seifa. Thinking back on it, she had been pretty insulted by how he’d acted in the first few weeks in her home, before she understood.

Tyreen on the other hand was thankful for her. She was a font of laughter and energy, flitting about the ship as her new friend worked and attempting to “help her” in thanks for the hospitality Sei had shown them, as if hindering her chores with constant interruptions was somehow going to pay her back for taking them in, but Troy? He was just... there. 

A looming, gangly shape standing awkwardly in corners. Rudely quiet, only proving he wasn’t mute through crackly whispers to his twin that would fall silent when Seifa would approach. A nervous, cagey giant of a child who came across as both irritated and terrified by Sei, till he’d finally talked, and he’d explained everything.

Tyreen had been the one who filled the ship with laughter in those first 6 months, but Troy had been the one to tell her the truth of things. 

They settled as companions, slowly.

By the time Seifa had accepted the twin's request to join their management staff in the early growth of the COV and had returned to Pandora, the friendship between the three was easy. 

Tyreen was still the focus of all attention mind you, it was still her who'd control the conversations and limelight when they'd meet each week in the "God Twin's" shared cloister to relax together in dropping their charades and becoming human again for a few hours.

Troy was happy just to sit between the women and smile as they eased into their drinks and each other's company on those nights. It was enough for him to simply exist next to people who liked his presence. There was warmth in those times, Sei's snorting laughter cracking a smile across his face he could never quite hide as she'd lean against the weight of his side, Ty insisting they watch as she theatrically reenacted how the day's encounter with off-world investors had gone. Never well for them, but always hilariously in her favor.

As the months turned to a year though, Tyreen just slowly stopped turning up.

They never really noticed as it happened, it was subtle, one missed night a month, then 2, then 3... It became Sei and Troy instead of Sei and the Twins.

The conversations would turn a little gentler without Tyreen's razor sharp energy to infect them, and they’d sit side by side, sharing snippets of each other's pasts, their hopes, and the things they both wanted from this newborn cult. Regrets sometimes, if the atmosphere was right.

The cloister slowly started to feel empty with just two people, and they knew deep down that Tyreen was unlikely to start joining again - she was far too busy with her God Queen persona and heaving fanbase to have the time to waste doing fuck all with close friends. The high walls and open space decor of the twin's shared quarters started feeling cold without her electricity, so they shifted to his ship instead. Troy's Sanctum.

She'd still turn up every so often, a couple of months of no appearances and then that crystalline laughter would ring through his quarters and they'd turn to raise a glass at the holy Vault Mother as she kicked off her boots with gusto and grabbed a seat, but eventually, that stopped too, and for quite a long time it was just Troy and Seifa on those nights, together in warm comfort.

A friendship that had bloomed into the easy, open kind where silence didn't mean awkwardness, where you could sit arm against arm and breath out the stresses of titles, and Godhood, and the crushing weight of responsibilities you never really asked for or wanted, and just... be. Just exist next to the reassuring presence of someone who never wanted more from you than what you could honestly give, because they knew who you really were, deep in your core.

It was Jak-Knife who joined next.

Troy's bodyguard had stood stoically outside his Sanctum's doors so many times that they’d become part of the evening, nodding at the Mechanicum's Saint as Seifa would arrive. Return her wink and knowing chuckle as they'd step to the side for her. It made sense they'd eventually find their way inside at his welcome, and the shared laughter in his home grew with their gruff warmth and open heart.

It was Ven, after.

The Oracle was impossible to avoid in general, he was a grandstanding assault on the senses with charisma almost as flamboyant as his dress sense, but the longer anyone spent around Ven, the easier it was to truly appreciate his company for what it really was. Someone who genuinely liked you for who you were, and not what his unique insight told him you could provide him in the future.

Troy had always had a soft spot for the gaudy soothsayer. Personal reasons maybe, he was the only one who knew what Ven had signed his life away to the COV in return for after all, and maybe that was why when Ven began to fill Sanctum with terrible stories and obvious lies about the beautiful people who fawned over him on benders in the Holy City's slums, it didn't take long before his delicate brother Eli joined them too. 

Seifa saw the connection even if the other's didn't, Eli's joint braces and medical equipment, the sadness in Troy's glances. Physical weakness, unashamed from someone so strong in character. She saw how Troy looked at the other man, the fleeting respect in those ice-blue eyes. The shame.

They became a unit in the end, Jk, Ven, Eli, Seifa, and their broken God King, a rickety family existing inside the guts of a monstrous one as the COV surrounded and spread through their lives with every passing day its grip across Pandora tightened.

But Seifa and Troy are very close.

They know each other, inside and out. They've shared their failures, illnesses, rages and tears. They are the keeper of each other's years of secrets. That he's so sick so often, that her right eye is practically blind, that he wishes he wasn't what he's turned into, that they are both so desperately lonely.

She knows how to manipulate him into being honest about the painful reality he carries in a body that's never really functioned well, that's gnawed at inside by half of a power no one understands enough to try and heal.

She perfected it by watching the other people who care about him.

JK, huffing theatrically as they eye an exhausted Troy's shaky hand as he forces himself to continue working, complaining that they are hungry, that he may be a workhorse but they need to rest, then chuckling at his blustery ego as he mocks them and takes the out.

Ven and his little white lies, his warnings that Troy needs to stop pouring over the latest viewer statistics and take a break, because he "got glances" at bad outcomes if they weren't left till later. The reassurances that everything will be fine and things will turn out better if he stops for the night.

Eli, explaining how the latest medication course Troy's medical team recommended really helped with the tension pull in his shoulders from his spinal issues, chatting in surprising detail about how relieving it's been, what dosage he's been taking...

Troy will not talk about his chronic issues with anyone, because he is terrified of appearing weak. She doesn't know why for definite, but she can guess, and is pretty sure it's related to his childhood. From the snippets he's given her, the emotionless monotone of his voice when he speaks about his father, well, she has hunches. 

Neither of the twins were happy as children, neither of them talk about "home" with even a vague sparkle of joy in their dead eyes. But Troy, he shies away from it, like there is something he's ashamed of, or the lingering ghost of something that haunted his early years and follows him still.

Troy is terrified of being pitied, because he so desperately wants to be seen as reliable. He wants to be strong. He wants to be useful.

So to get him to open up? You need to ask for his help.

Sei is a clever woman, and Troy is a lost, broken man who is so easy to wrap around her finger that sometimes she wonders at times if it's intentional.

When she sees him flagging, when his skin is a little lighter than normal, the dark under his eyes deeper, she'll play the damsel. She'll let him be the knight in shining armour that the little boy in him so clearly wishes it could have grown into. Sei will gasp gently when they are alone in his ship on these nights, pinch her lip between her teeth as she slowly rotates her wrist and stares sadly at the tremor that runs through it. She'll act it out, knowing he's watching, and wait for him to take the bait.

He always does - he can't help it. He'll always try and help her even when he's sick or exhausted. He'll always approach and ask if she's ok even if a migraine is rendering him barely able to stand.. because that's who he is. That’s the real Troy DeLeon.

She'll sit on the plush edge of the recessed couch in the floor of his Sanctum, and wait for him to shakily lower his towering body to the cushioned floor in front of her, before he gently takes her wrist in a hand that could easily crush it.

She'll wince, flutter her eyelashes with a gasp, and nod along to his muttered questions as he turns it so carefully, crankily asking when it last acted up, why hasn't she seen the specialist he contacted months ago, why she’s not taken time off when he knows he’s not working her that hard, why is she such a pain in the ass, how bad does it hurt, is he helping...

Seifa will wait, all quiet sighs and hitched breaths till he's so focused in shifting the tiny bones of her wrist under the pressure of his thumb that she can ask him how he feels, and he'll tell her.

That's the key. 

Troy Calypso is so terrified of being seen as less because of his pain, that he'll pretend it doesn't exist, he'll suffer in silence alone in the sorrow of his empty ship. But if he's protecting someone else? If he is massaging the old fracture in Seifa's wrist and lost in the concentration of trying to ease her distress? He'll tell her about his neck if she asks, or the pain in the dull hollow of his lumbar, or how he's thrown up 4 times today, how he woke up the other night and was sure his heart had stopped.

He'll mumble out secret fears he was hiding behind the God King's vicious mask for weeks, and he'll let her run fingers through his hair as she tells him how strong he really is.

[nekojitachan]

Hi, I love your fic'❤️ and I wanted to know if you could write even a short one about what would happened if Riko didnt find Andrew and Neil in WDWG

Thank you! 💖 Okay, so I did my best to keep this as short as possible, just a glimpse of the boys’ life if Riko had never found them/if they were able to live on undisturbed, just the two of them.

Uhm, I think it’s pretty safe? Just the ongoing burying bodies joke....

*******

Neil had just sold the two tourists from New York a (very ugly) tea set and couple rare blends of tea (Jodi would be pleased) when Massey’s recommendation returned. Neil gave him a stern look to convey ‘not now’ while he waited on a regular, Mrs. Huang, taking the time to let her sniff the lu’an tea they had in stock to ensure that it was up to her high standards before he bagged the requested amount, chatting with her in Mandarin the entire time. It was only after she left (and he was certain that the store was empty) that Neil motioned the anxious man forward while he reached beneath the counter for the wrapped bundle he and Jodi had worked on earlier.

“It’s ready?”

“Yes.” Neil answered in French as he set the bundle on the counter, just out of reach, then slid his phone into view. “New passport, bank account, driver’s license, birth certificate, the works.”

The man, face haggard from stress and freshly bleached hair falling onto his forehead, gazed at the package as if it a holy grail of sorts. “Let me see the passport. Please,” he added, his voice hoarse with need.

Used to being asked such a question, Neil shrugged and unfolded the brown wrapping paper enough to slip free the passport (French) and flipped it open to prove to the man (no names had been exchanged, which he much preferred) that it would pass for authentic (he did excellent work). Some of the tension left the man’s stocky body upon seeing it, as did a quick glance at the other items in the wrapping paper; he pulled out his phone to transfer the agreed upon amount of money to the account number Jodi had given him last night.

Neil checked his phone to ensure the money had been deposited then slid the items across the counter. “Good luck,” he told the man, who snatched up his new life, nodded in acknowledgement, then fled the Jade Leaves tea store.

Neil dealt with a few more tourists (not his favorite thing) and a handful of regulars (which he much preferred, especially when they brought him snacks) by the time Jodi returned. “Bah, it’s raining,” she complained as she pushed back the hood of her jacket; fall in Montreal could be unpredictable, could be an extension of summer or an early taste of winter, and now it looked as if the warm spell was giving way to colder temperatures and rain.

“Be thankful it’s not snow,” he told his boss as he handed over a cup filled with oolong, which he brewed throughout the day for customers and staff (well, him and Jodi) alike.

“Hush, you,” she chided before she took a cautious sip. “Hmm, how was business?”

He held up his phone, and huffed when she gave a pleased smile in return; she’d noticed the money deposited in the account earlier, an account which would soon disappear after she transferred the funds elsewhere (some to Neil). “Steady. I managed to get rid of the awful tea set.”

“The one with the gibberish on it?” Jodi’s pale brown eyes went wide and she laughed with joy as she reached to pat Neil on the shoulder. “Ah, sending you here was the best favor Gabe ever did for me.”

“Hmm.” Neil had to agree; as Aidan’s senior year of high school had drawn to an end, they’d been uncertain as to what to do next. Stick around until Neil graduated? Have Aidan apply to university? Move on to a new set of identities? They’d made a home of sorts in Racine, but Neil worried about his father’s people catching up to them at some point and Aidan was tired of them pretending to be siblings.

It was during a check-in with Durand that the forger had brought up that his cousin in Montreal was looking for help: an assistant who could speak French and if not take part in forging documents, at least keep their mouth shut. Neil and Aidan had debated it for a few days, but in the end they trusted Durand (as much as they did anyone else), Montreal put them farther away from the remnants of Nathan’s gang, and they could start anew.

Instead of half-brothers, they were newlyweds.

(Neil barely managed to not freak out when Aidan told Durand to create a marriage license for them, saving it until they were alone in the car. Only to be stopped mid-rant when Aidan held up a ring and asked him ‘yes or no’.)

Neil kept his first name (he didn’t want to let go of it after keeping it for so long), while Aidan became Andrew once more. Neil and Andrew Keenan, two young fools in love who struck out on their own rather than be apart (or so most people assumed). Neil spent the last couple months before they left Racine learning Mandarin, and was now picking up Arabic as well. He sold tea in a small store in Chinatown, gossiped with the locals, learned from one of the best forgers in North America (Jodi Liu was every bit as good as her cousin), and very rarely had to use the gun hidden beneath the counter.

“I haven’t heard from Gabe or Massey, so we should be good for the night,” Jodi said as she checked her phone for messages. “Go home.”

She didn’t have to tell him twice. He ran back to the small breakroom in the back to fetch the container of pork dumplings Mrs. Dai had given him (she kept telling him he was too skinny) then was out the door after wishing Jodi ‘good night’. Despite the rain, he stopped at Tony’s food truck to get a couple cartons of noodles to complete dinner, laughing at the older man’s retelling of a small group of Americans trying to order with appalling French.

“I guess it was better than them trying in Mandarin,” Tony said as he handed Neil his takeaway.

“Andrew complains about the French thing all the time.”

“Yeah, I imagine he’d get it a lot, working in a pastry shop.”

Neil waved goodbye and, after making sure the food was safe in his waterproof messenger bag, jogged down the mostly deserted streets to where Andrew worked, right outside of Chinatown. The bakery was empty of customers, probably because of the rain and the time of day, but the mostly empty display cases indicated that they’d done a good business earlier.

Andrew arched an eyebrow at Neil’s arrival and popped the petit four he held in his hand into his mouth. Once it was chewed and swallowed, he stepped toward the doorway leading back into the kitchen area, covered with a cloth divider. “Naseem, some riffraff just blew into the shop. I’m going to take it home.”

“What?” Andrew’s coworker, a young man with a closely trimmed black beard and a white scarf tied over his short, curly black hair, poked his head through the curtains and smiled when he saw Neil. “Why do you put up with him?” he asked, just like he always did, while he brushed at the flour which dusted his face; he probably was working on some of the pastries for the next day.

Neil gave the same answer, as always. “He knows where the bodies are buried.”

“Ha, you kids and your jokes.” Naseem shook his head as he glanced around the empty shop. “Just lock up before you go.”

Andrew gave him a two-fingered salute then quickly set about clearing out the register and turning off the lights (it looked as if he’d already done a lot of the closing duties already), then grabbed a small box before he ushered Neil out the door, which he locked behind them.

He gave Neil a pointed look as he pulled an umbrella big enough for the both of them out of his own bag and opened it. “You trying to catch pneumonia?”

“I’m open to new experiences?” Neil smiled when he was given the ‘you’re an idiot’ look. “I got dinner.”

“I know, I can smell it.”

“Are you going to share dessert with me?”

“No.”

Neil smiled the entire way home, especially when Andrew hooked their pinkies together; they didn’t have far to go since they rented an apartment in a building which Jodi’s family owned. It had a balcony where they could sit together as they smoked cigarettes or drank something hot, a bathtub big enough for them both to soak in together, and a gas fireplace in the living room which Andrew spent half the winter in front of, along with the cats.

Aibee greeted them at the door, certain to make the deplorable state of her empty belly known, while Elbee sauntered in from their bedroom and flopped down at Andrew’s feet after he kicked off his boots. He sighed and bent down to give the orange tabby a gentle pet before he prodded him to stand up, while Aibee was quick to run into the kitchen once she realized that Neil was headed that way, her fluffy black tail straight up in the air.

Andrew caught the strap of Neil’s messenger bag, which brought him to a halt. “Go change into something dry,” he chided as he maneuvered the bag from Neil’s shoulder.

“Okay.” Neil leaned in for a lingering kiss then did as he’d been told, pulling his damp sweatshirt over his head along the way. It and his jeans were draped over the hamper, swapped out for a soft sweater (that was Andrew’s) and sweatpants. Once dressed, he went into the kitchen to find that his husband had divvied up the food onto two plates, which had been placed on the table, and was feeding the cats.

“Shut up and eat, you ingrates,” Andrew said as he set down their bowls, his deep voice mild and expression almost tender.

“I thought I was the ingrate,” Neil commented as he picked up his chopsticks.

“You’re the idiot ingrate,” Andrew clarified as he sat down, and sighed when Neil stuck out his tongue.

They concentrated on eating for a couple minutes before they (well, Neil) started talking about their day; Andrew nodded along as he went on about the tourists and the documents he’d created. As expected, Andrew complained a bit about the tourists who just had to try out their lousy French on him.

“Jodi send you your part of the job yet?”

Neil frowned as he pulled out his phone and checked the special account where the money from the forgeries went. “Yes, another twenty-five thousand.” He gave Andrew a curious look. “Do I need to route it somewhere?” They were careful with the remaining money his mother had stolen from his father, most of it still tied up in investments for another couple years but a nice amount available for use – especially after Neil had started working for Jodi.

Their biggest expense to date was Andrew’s brother Aaron; when he’d learned about his long-lost mother dying from an overdose and how she’d allowed his twin to become an addict, he and Neil had arranged it so that Aaron’s cousin, Nicky, was able to win custody of Aaron and that Tilda’s ‘life insurance’ was more than enough to support the two until Aaron graduated high school. A little bit more money, a few more pulled strings had gotten Aaron into a university in South Carolina, and Neil had thought that was that.

Or so he had thought.

Andrew got up to fetch the pastry box (along with two forks) and set it on the table, the top open to reveal that inside was some horrendous chocolate thing and a small fruit tart. “We both have vacation time leftover, I thought we could go somewhere warm toward the end of the year.”

Neil gazed at his husband for a moment before he narrowed his eyes. “You just want to get away from the snow for a while.”

Andrew shrugged as he set the tart on Neil’s plate. “You won’t have to listen to me complain about the cold for a couple weeks.”

“Hmm.” That had possibilities, Neil thought as he picked a blackberry from the tart and popped it into his mouth. “You didn’t happen to research ‘the top ten ice cream places in Bora Bora’ or something like that, did you?”

He was given a blank look in return.

“We never had a honeymoon,” or a real wedding, for that matter, “so I get some say in this.”

“No Exy,” Andrew declared as he stabbed his fork in the chocolate monstrosity.

No, no Exy, Neil thought with a wince. He’d soured a bit on the sport after the whole Edgar Allan scandal. “No burying bodies.”

“Again with that? It happened twice.”

“And twice is more than enough, considering the second time, someone was all ‘oh look, I’m bleeding sooo much, you have to do all the digging this time,” Neil said in a mocking voice.

For a moment, he thought he’d be the one bleeding (Andrew had only grown more impressive with those flat stares of his), until his husband clicked his tongue. “Fine, we’ll go somewhere with plenty of water so we can sink the bodies.”

“Huh.” Neil considered that as he had a bite of the fruit tart. “That’ll work.” Not that he wanted to have to sink bodies into the ocean, but… well, it was him and Andrew. Things just happened.

There was a very slight curl to Andrew’s full lips, which meant he was smug as hell at the moment. Neil narrowed his eyes, uncertain about what he’d just agreed to, then figured ‘what the hell’. It would work out in the end, it always did with Andrew.

*******

Forgive me for any liberties taken with Montreal.

The cats’ full names are Anklebiter and Lazybones. If you can’t guess, Andrew named them, and Neil shortened them.

I figured this is set a year or two after Andrew would have graduated. He may be taking online university classes (more as something to do), but Neil’s happy with being a forger (and damn good at it).

It’s like... trying to figure out what to write next. I’ve one or two prompts I want to get done, the next chapter of Casts a Shadow, wrap up the soulmate fic, and another part of Not in the Stars. Decisions, decisions....