#anyways time to be stuck in my mind palace while trying to draw. again

[pnsge]

[fett-djarin]

Anything

this bitch done YEET

anyway this is Boba Fett x f!Reader! I had this idea kicking around for awhile and shit finally came together and i was able to get it done!

Rating: 18+

Length: 4.1k

Warnings/Tags: SMUT, canon-typical violence (not in the smut), PiV intercourse, unprotected sex, fingering, riding, throne sex come get yalls juice, multiple orgasms, creampie, spanking, slight cockwarming?, pet names, swearing

NSFW BELOW THE CUT!

Boba Fett was an enigma. He intimidated you, intrigued you--but he didn’t scare you. Boba could be violent, occasionally cruel, but only to those who had earned his ire. You had nothing to fear.

You still remember the day he stormed into Jabba’s palace, a wrathful spectre on a mission. You had been afraid you would be caught in the crossfire, an exchange of possession through violence. But then your chains were blasted apart, scum of men dying around you instead of finding your own demise. Instead of fleeing like the other girls, you dove towards a dropped blaster and levelled it at one of the smugglers putting up a fight. This particular one had been a thorn in your side for a long time. You’d be lying if you said you felt no satisfaction watching him fall lifeless from your well-placed blaster bolt.

“Nice shot,” the woman--Fennec, you had come to learn--commented. You had turned in a panic, pointing the blaster in her direction, her own rifle coming up in an instant, aimed squarely at your head.

“Easy, girl,” the Mandalorian--Boba--had said. “We have no interest in fighting you.”

“If you mean to sell me again,” you spat, “it would be easier to kill me now.” Your fingers flexed on the blaster, and you tried to steady your shaking hands. Fennec’s aim hadn’t faltered.

“Stand down, Shand,” Fett directed the sharpshooter, who immediately lowered her weapon. He then addressed you again. “I don’t deal in flesh.” You slowly dropped your arm. “What’s your name, girl?”

That had been...a few standard months ago, now. Boba ran his syndicate under a tight fist. He had no use for slaves, and had told you you were free, even offered you credits to return home. Some of the others took his offer. You had opted to stay--your birth planet had nothing to offer you, and you did not want to try your luck as a newly freed woman with nothing to your name on Tatooine. You didn’t even have a name, really. You were called something different each time you moved; your birthname was no longer you. That person had died long ago.

“Call me anything,” you had told Boba. “I don’t mind.”

He thought for a minute, and then decided. “Mayen.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of you. The gruff, seemingly serious man had a sense of humor. Mayen--Mando’a for ‘anything.’ His lips quirked in a sly smirk. You liked it. Mayen it was.

“You know Mando’a?” He had asked.

“I’ve picked up things here and there,” you smiled in return.

He later on told you that you could pick your own name, you had no obligation to go by the silly pun he called you. But you had a sense of humor, and actually liked how it sounded. It was a new beginning. You decided you would keep it.

You knew quite a few languages, or bits and pieces you heard over the years. Boba had hired you as a translator, and you accompanied him to meetings with traders, smugglers, and pirates. He didn’t allow any of them to harass you. If they so much as leered in your direction, they tended to lose a few fingers or teeth, either by your hand or his. At Boba’s insistence, you now carried a blaster and a vibroblade. Fennec had been showing you how to properly aim and shoot so you could better protect yourself. He had gifted you the vibroblade as part of your payment.

Yes, Boba Fett was a hard man, but you appreciated his kindness.

His scars added to his imposing figure, and you often found yourself wondering about their origin. What he must have gone through for his skin to be marked so. You also wondered about how stupid some people could be--Mandalorians were legendary warriors, and Boba Fett had some infamy connected to his name, yet fools still picked fights they were destined to lose. His armor impressed you--and the dark stare of the T-visor when he looked your way always had something low and warm stirring in your belly.

It didn’t help that sometimes he would watch while you practiced with your blade. Your heart thundered in your ears the first time he came up behind you, chest to your back, and moved your arms into the correct defensive position. His boot also nudged your stance wider, centering your weight. It’s part of training, you told yourself. You prayed he didn’t notice the heat in your face or the way you refused to look at him. Stars, if you turned your head you could kiss him--

What could you say? He was a handsome man.

Occasionally he offered to spar with you, which was laughable. The first time you had outright refused. “I don’t want to die, thanks,” you said.

“You’re gonna have to face people bigger and stronger than you sometimes, princess,” he said the endearment mockingly.

“Most people aren’t Boba Fett.”

“You’re right about that. Still, come on, show me what you’ve learned.”

Your first fight ended miserably in about three seconds. You gave him a pointed look that said I-told-you-so, and he just shrugged. “Not bad for your first time.” Sparring became regular.

“You’re quicker than me. Use that to your advantage, stay out of my reach. Strike and retreat.”

“Arms up, but keep ‘em close--protect your body.”

“Stagger your stance, distribute your weight. Make it harder for people to knock you down.”

“Move with confidence--this is not the time to falter.”

His words of advice came with each session and stuck. After a few weeks, you could hold your own for a minute against Fett. Then five minutes. Then your sparring was like a coordinated, aggressive dance, blades flashing and deflected, ducking, dodging, weaving, spinning around each other. Once, you had even managed to disarm him, knocking the blade from his hand--you both froze in stunned surprise before Boba recovered and had you pinned to the floor in an instant.

“Very good.” He said from his place atop your legs, pride curling darkly through his voice. “But next time, press the advantage. You freeze, you die.” Now you froze for an entirely different reason--his weight on top of you caused something hot and wanting to smolder in you, his thumb gently stroking the hollow of your throat making your breath hitch. And then he was off you, pulling you back to your feet with ease.

You still couldn’t beat him--you don’t think you would ever be capable of that. The best bounty hunter in the galaxy against you? You much prefer being on his good side.

Boba had just returned from a recent bounty hunt alongside a fellow Mandalorian, having left you and Fennec at the palace. You had been helping her sort through the datalogs and contraband left behind from the previous occupants when he appeared, moving surprisingly silent for such a broad, imposing man.

“Mayen,” he called you, and you looked at him over your shoulder, having been preoccupied cataloguing the contents of the crate in front of you. He was still in his armor, adding to his bulk. The green-painted beskar gave nothing away. “I’ve got a meeting. You’ll be needed. Fennec, I sent you scouting information on the next bounty.”

You nodded, and with your acknowledgment, he turned and strode back towards the throne room. Fennec stood, brushing sand off her pants. “Careful,” Fennec warned. “Keep your blaster close. You never know how these meetings will turn out.” She patted you on the shoulder.

“Got it,” you said, adjusting your tunic so she could see the holster on your hip. It would be the first time she wasn’t there alongside you while Boba arranged deals with crime lords. Sometimes Boba would go in alone, or the both of you would attend. “Trained by the best.”

She cracked a smile at that. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to track down our next target.” She exited the storage room opposite of the way Boba went.

You gathered yourself, then followed after Boba. Entering the throne room was daunting, as the traders he was meeting with were already there and turned to stare. A few of them openly looked you up and down. Your eyes were fixed solely on Boba lounging on the throne, legs spread, seemingly completely at ease and exuding power. You strode past the group of men come to bargain, refusing to look away from the void of Boba's visor that tracked your movement. One of them muttered something as you passed that you couldn't make out, but it had not sounded pleasant. You took your place at Boba's side.

"Boba Fett, the legendary bounty hunter back from the dead," a wiry human man stepped forward, rubbing his hands together. His grin was more of a baring of teeth. "Now that you run this joint, I have a few propositions to consider--"

Since he was speaking Basic, you have to admit, you tuned out. You watched the two Twi’leks that had accompanied him, who kept throwing glances your way, murmuring to themselves. Something about them put you on edge. Of course, you never trusted the people who came to do business with Boba, but you liked this group even less.

You translated for a Rodian bounty hunter when it was his turn to speak. You noticed the Twi'leks and the first human had been getting antsy, shifting from foot to foot and continuing to eye you and Boba. The Twi'leks had never come forward. They spelled trouble. You were tense the entire time, but they reached an agreement and left without trouble.

Boba on the throne was a sight. Your mind wandered, wondering what it would be like to sit on his lap, straddle his strong thighs. You shook your head to clear it as Boba cleared his throat, drawing your attention.

"Go get some rest, little one." And with that, you were dismissed.

You touched yourself thinking of him that night. Imagining it was his fingers instead of yours bringing you to your peak. You bit your fist as you came, muffling your moans and preventing you from calling his name out into the night.

The next day, he had gone out once again. When he returned, you noted his armor had some new scratches, some of the fresh green paint chipped away. He beckoned you forward with a wave, following him to the throne room. He sat with a heavy sigh. You stood before him, waiting for his direction, when he removed his helmet and set it aside. There was a new cut on his cheek, dried blood sticking to his skin.

"You're hurt," you said, stepping forward. Boba grunted noncommittally in response, reaching into a pouch on his belt and pulling out a small container of bacta.

"Use this," his voice was gravelly and he tossed the container to you. He...wanted you to put the bacta on him? Your pulse kicked up. But you would do as he asked.

You unscrewed the lid, swiping your finger through the gel. "What happened?" You asked as you spread it as gently as you could over the cut.

"Those hunters from yesterday," he sighed. "Thought they could catch me unaware out in the dunes. Their last mistake." He chuckled. "This was really the only hit I took," he gestured to the cut along his cheek. You had finished spreading the bacta, but your hand still lingered. You were entranced, being this close to him. Your thumb mindlessly caressed his cheekbone.

"Mayen," he said your name. You met his eyes, the heat in his gaze taking you by surprise. He always had fire and fight in him, but this wasn't like that. It was wanting. Boba grasped your wrist of the hand that still held his face, his other coming up to cup the back of your head.

Then you were kissing him.

You don't know if you leaned down or if he pulled you down or if he leaned up or if it even mattered, all you cared about was his rough lips against yours. When you gasped into it, he took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. Boba's kisses were all consuming, overwhelming--he demanded all of you, and wouldn't accept any less.

He leaned back, bringing you with him so you had no choice but to straddle his lap or be pulled off-balance. You settled along his thighs, sighing as you could now grind your center against his stiffening member. He nipped your bottom lip, breaking away to press kisses down your throat.

“Tell me, sweetheart…” he murmured, worrying a mark into the delicate skin of your neck.

You whined, rolling your hips against his. His hands clamped down like durasteel around your hips, stilling you. “Tell me. We stop if you say so.”

“I want you, Boba,” you gasped, and he rewarded you with another hickey sucked into your neck. He guided your hips back into a slow grind, thrusting up against you. The layers of clothes between you dulled the sensation, but warm waves of pleasure still radiated through you. You cradled his jaw, bringing his lips back to yours, before trailing your palms down his chest. You pawed at his chestplate and robes, making him chuckle.

“Eager, aren’t we?” he teased you lightly. You squeaked when he pinched your ass. “Take this off, princess.” His hands slid up under your tunic, running up and down your sides before caressing your breasts.

You lifted your arms, helping him slide your shirt over your head. Instinctively, your arms came down to cover yourself, but Boba tutted at you. “Don’t get shy on me now, mesh’la. Let me see you.” He murmured in your ear before lightly nipping the lobe, sending shivers down your spine. He encouraged you to put your hands back on his chest. You whined against him, need building in your core as he undid your bindings and continued to guide your hips in a deep grind.

Boba’s fingers crept along the waistband of your pants before diving inside. You moaned as they landed on your clit. “This wet already? Someone’s a needy little thing.” You felt your face heat at his teasing accompanied by his rough fingers circling your clit built you up even more. You hid your face in his shoulder, grinding against his hand for more of that raw pleasure. Boba suddenly pressed hard against your clit in a tight circle, making you cry out loudly and grip his robes for dear life.

“Boba, please,” you whined, lips tracing his throat, his jaw, wherever you could reach. You brought your own hand down to cup him through his pants, running your hand along his bulge. He cursed lightly in your ear as you gently squeezed him.

“Up,” he said, patting your ass. You stood, taking the opportunity to shimmy out of your pants and panties. He lounged back against the throne, taking in your form. You didn’t cover yourself this time. “Good girl. Come here.” You stepped between his spread knees and he took you by the elbow, pulling you down and turning you so your back was pressed to his chest and your legs were spread by his own. His touch returned to your clit, sliding through your slick folds to tease your entrance. You pressed your ass back against his hardness and he groaned.

His arm banded around your waist as he finally slid a finger into your dripping entrance. You gasped, head falling back to rest on his shoulder. When he introduced a second one, you began to squirm. The stretch was so good as his fingers slid within you, curling and pressing into that perfect spot that sent you soaring. You were practically riding his hand, your hips circling as his fingers moved faster and faster.

“Oh,” you gasped as he added a third, legs trembling. Your hand shot to his where it was locked around your middle, holding you against him, while your other curled up and back, turning his head so you could kiss him. Boba found that spot in you that made you clench tight around him and zeroed in with deadly precision. You felt him grin smugly against your lips as your breathing stuttered. “Boba!”

“Look at you, so desperate for my fingers. Squeezin’ me so tight, sweetheart, can’t wait to feel you around my cock.”

You found yourself teetering at the edge of release. You turned your head, burying your nose in Boba’s neck. “Please, Boba, g’nna cum, please--” you gasped out. It was a good thing he held you to him, else you would have been bucking off his lap.

“Cum on my fingers, cyar’ika.”

Your mouth opened in a silent moan as you tipped over the edge of orgasm, cumming hard around Boba’s fingers. Your cunt flooded with wetness, the lewd sound of his fingers thrusting into you becoming even wetter. If he hadn’t been holding you to his chest you would have doubled over with the devastating pulses of pleasure rocking through you from your center. He continued working you through it until you whined, pushing at his hand that still moved between your thighs, need building up in you again.

Boba brought his fingers up to his mouth and you moaned at the sight of him sucking and licking them clean of your arousal. “Taste so sweet,” he said. “Open.” You opened your mouth, and he slid his fingers inside. Obediently, you sucked on them, swirling your tongue around his fingers like you would his cock. Boba groaned. "Dirty girl."

He withdrew his fingers from your mouth and you begged. "Want your cock, please, Boba--please fuck me, please--"

"Hush, needy pet. You'll get what you want." He bit your neck, the sharp pinpricks fading into a warm buzz that made you squirm, wiggling your hips on his lap. Boba reached down between you two and shifted himself out of his robes, sliding his cock against your soaked folds. You looked down and Maker, he was thick. You were suddenly glad he made you take three fingers--you hoped you would be able to take his cock.

He rutted against you, his cock sliding through your folds and pulling breathless little gasps from you each time his head nudged your clit. Each slick drag of him against your lips coated his cock in your wetness. Boba evidently grew tired of teasing you, because he urged you up and took hold of the base of his cock, guiding it to your dripping entrance. You moaned at the feeling of his thick tip splitting you open, sinking down the first inch.

Boba's hand came around to rub little circles on your clit, making you jerk against him, his other hand caging you in by your hip. Slowly, he encouraged you to sit back on his lap, the thick drag and push of his cock working inch-by-inch deeper into you. Stars, you felt him in your fucking guts. Your thighs trembled, and when your ass touched his lap you nearly sobbed from how full you felt.

"Look at that," he murmured into your hair. "Takin' me so well, princess. Feels fucking good, doesn't it?" You clenched around him at his words, making him choke off a moan. He rubbed your clit a tick faster just to feel you spasm around him again and he laughed at your high gasp of pleasure.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, it was too good--that ache, the raw sparks shooting down your legs and up your spine. Shifting the slightest bit pushed him right up something devastating inside you and you couldn't stop the wrecked moan that tore from your throat. Boba gave an experimental thrust and you nearly shrieked and lurched off of him, if he hadn't grabbed a hold of your hips and held you on his lap. You babbled senselessly, too overwhelmed as every ridge of his cock pressed your walls just right. "B-Boba, Boba, move, please--"

His big hand slapped your inner thigh and this time you did wail, the hot sting fading into a pleasant, buzzing warmth. His fingers dug in to the soft flesh hard enough that you knew there would be bruises in the shape of his fingers come morning. Then he lifted you slightly off him, cock sliding only a few inches out, before pulling you down in time with a thrust upwards, burying himself in you with a deep grind. You let out a choked moan, stars bursting behind your eyelids.

"Ride," he demanded. Your breath hitched as you scrambled for purchase, hands going to his strong thighs for support. It was sort of an awkward position, your feet barely touching the floor, requiring you to go on your tiptoes to pull a few inches off his cock. Boba's thick fingers cupped your pussy in a V shape, so every time you rose and fell they rolled against your clit. You couldn't tell if you wanted to push your hips back away or forward for more stimulation.

He slapped your other thigh this time, rubbing to soothe the sting, encouraging you to bounce on his cock faster. Your breath was coming in high, moaning pants as each drop of your hips buried him deep inside you, reaching places you never had and lighting up your nerves like a star gone supernova. Paired with his touch teasing your clit with every thrust, you weren't going to last long.

Boba's hands on your hips guided you faster, rougher--each downstroke hitting deep and holding you there for a second just to feel how full, how stuffed your pussy was of him. His thrusts up as you dropped down allowed his cock to hit your g-spot dead on, over and over. You felt yourself rhythmically clenching around him, heard his groans as your cunt strangled his cock, and you were so close to cumming again. The feeling coiled up at the base of your spine, the pleasure winding tighter and higher and ready to burst.

And then--then Boba hooked his hands under your knees, pulling your legs up so all your weight rested on where he was buried in you, and he slipped another inch further inside. You couldn't stop the sob of pleasure as he held you like this, open for him to take, and he set a punishing pace. The dull slap of skin-on-skin paired with the wet gush of your arousal around him, dripping down his balls and onto the throne, made your head tip back onto his shoulder and wrenched moan after moan out of you.

You were talking, babbling nonsense--begging, pleading for him to make you cum again. Boba tilted his hips just right and you keened as it pushed his cock right against the soft spot along your walls. Each thrust shoved you closer to the edge right until that coil inside you snapped. Your legs shook and your pussy clamped down so hard around Boba's cock that it stunted him to short, shallow thrusts as you rode it out. You distantly heard him groaning, praising you, telling you good girl, good fuckin' girl--you were spasming around him, each jolt of pleasure like a white-hot knife radiating from your core to your toes. Boba kept fucking you through it and you nearly begged him to stop--it was too much, the bite of overstimulation burning your nerves--when he pulled you down, fucking into you as deep as he could and he came with a groan of your name, cock throbbing as his release coated your walls.

Somehow, you ended up turned, face buried in his neck and legs wrapped around his waist as you trembled and caught your breath. His hands trailed up and down your spine and thighs in soothing motions as you came back down. You sighed and cuddled closer to him, the hard beskar plating cold against your bare skin, but it felt good on your overheated body.

"Made quite a mess on me, sweetheart," he said, deep voice rumbling in his chest under your ear. You just mmm'd and clung closer to him while he chuckled. It was true. Your arousal coated your thighs, dripped down onto the throne, soaked Boba's cock where it was still buried in you. Boba pulled his robe around you and stood, supporting you with his hands under your thighs. "Come on, little one, let's go to bed." You closed your eyes as he made his way out of the throne room and through the palace. He didn't drop you off in your bedroom, instead taking you to his and laying you in the spacious bed before stripping off his armor and joining you.

[sukorakurai]

@snarkyship is a true genius. I commission this Stark Family Portrait and I couldn’t be happier. I wrote a little fic to accompany this fabulous Picture. hope you all enjoy.

Stark Family Picture Day

 By Sukora Kurai

  Tony sighed over the counter in the communal kitchen. He had been there since dawn when he asked Jarvis what day it was. Then his trusty AI informed him of an importance of this month. Now he was stuck with what to do now.

 “Hey Tony what’s got you down?”

 “Hey Capsicle, I’m doomed.”

 “Oh come on Tony, it can’t be that bad you are an Avenger.” Steve smiled as he got out food to make omelets for the Team, and greeted the in coming members. “Morning Nat, morning Bruce.”

 “Morning Steve, what’s wrong with Tony?” Bruce greeted heading to the stove to put the kettle on for his morning tea.

 “Not sure I found him like this.” Steve stated cracking some eggs into a bowl.

 “His and Loki’s anniversary is this month and he has no idea what to get him.” Nat answered pouring a large mug of coffee.

 Tony shot up in his seat and stared slack jawed. “How could you possibly know that?”

 “It’s my job as a shield Agent and Pepper’s PA to keep tabs on you. So it is well documented when you clumsily asked Loki to be your boyfriend during the Lord of the Rings Marathon where you bought out the AMC Theater for the day.” The Spy shrugged ignoring the fact that all her team mates stared at her in horror. All were now wondering what she had on them in those SHIELD files.

 “So Tony, you have and anniversary coming up? Have you though about what Loki might like?” Steve coughed drawing the conversation back to the main topic.

 “No, I don’t. What does one give a god especially one that has magic and can make anything appear out of thin air?” Tony waved his arms in frustration.

 “That is a tough one but I’m sure anything you get him will be fine. Loki loves you Tony.” Bruce tried to be supportive.

 “I hope you will be putting more thought into the gift you give me next month for our anniversary.” Nat gave the Gamma Doctor a pointed before wandering out of the room to start her routine before heading out to work.

 “Ha, I’m not the only one in hot water now!” Tony crowed at the look of devastation in his science-bro’s face.

 “Tony, knock it off. Now in my day it was the thought that counted most. You should find what Loki cherishes the most. You find that then you can present to him in a meaningful way. It’s true he’s a prince and probably has had his other lovers throw jewels and meaningless expensive trinkets at him to win his affections. You know Loki better because you love him and he loves you.” Steve pointed out.

 “Yeah, Lokes complains a lot about his life in Asgard and that there were many who wooed him just to get to Thor. At night when it’s just the two of us and RC snuggled between us he sighs soft and says what a perfect night it is. He never elaborates but I think it means that he likes just the quiet nights with us.” The genius eyes went glazed as he recalled the many nights he cuddled with his god. Then the idea hit him. “Hey Spangles, can you paint or do you just draw?”

 “Huh,” Steve was caught off guard and almost dropped the omelet he was flipping. “I paint from time to time.”

 “Don’t lie babe you are in your studio whenever can get the chance.” Bucky laughed entering the kitchen. “All the paintings in our apartment Stevie did.”

 “Great! Can you do a portrait if I get you a picture?” Tony asked digging in to the ham and cheese omelet.

 “Yeah, it might take two weeks maybe less depends on if we get called out or if SHIELD needs me.” The captain estimated placing another plate in front of his boyfriend.

 “As long as it’s done before the end of the month we’re good.  Jarvis start looking through my photos and pull out any possible portraits.”

 “Yes, sir.”

 “Delicious breakfast as usual Capsicle. I’ll get you the photo as soon as I find one.” Tony dumped his empty plate in sink and ran off to his lab.

 Two hours later…

 “None of these are good enough J.”

 “Sir, might I suggest you take a new photo of you and Prince Loki.”

 “Yeah and RC too, because she’s our baby. We can’t have a Family Portrait without all the family members. Where’s are RC now?”

 “She is currently with Alpine in his play room.”

 “Cool, I think I got the perfect outfit in mind.” Tony grinned as he ran to his emergency closet in the lab. Tony had put in the closet when he realized he destroyed a lot of his clothes during his inventing and building phases. Also there was a suit or two for the days he forgot he was supposed to be in a meeting and had to make a rush to the board room.

  In the penthouse…

  It had been a quiet morning with no call outs, no calls to Asgard and no need to go anywhere. Loki decided to enjoy the peace and quite lounging in his soft Asgardian casual clothes on the couch reading his mother’s spell journal.

 “Hey there, Bambi! It’s Picture Day!”

 “Anthony, what are you on about?” The prince looked up from his book to see his lover carrying their cat into the living room.

 “Well Picture Day refers to the day school kids take pictures for the yearbook and photos are bought for family distribution. Anyways I want to have a family picture that was honest. I never had that growing up because Howard was an asshole and Maria, my mother, was frail. She loved me but she couldn’t express it because she was always ill. Now we have our own little family and I want a picture to put in the lab.”

 “You want to take this picture now? Anthony, I look a mess and how did you get the bow on the cat?”

 “Aww, you look gorgeous, love, as always. Anyways, I put a bow on our baby because RC loves to look pretty for her daddies. Don’t you sweetie.” Tony scratched under the kitty’s chin as they sat on couch next to the god.

 “Mew,” RC purred.

 “Fine, you win, where would you like to take the picture? Also what are you wearing? I don’t believe I’ve seen that outfit before, and what is on your feet?” Loki set his book aside and took in his lover’s appearance.

 “Oh you like? I dressed in red and gold to match my shoes. I had these shoes made based on my Iron Man suit. I thought maybe putting them on the market for kids but I liked them too much to share. So I have a life time supply in the lab. If you want I can have a pair made for you.”

 “No thank you. They clash with my outfit. Now let’s take your picture.” Loki said taking the cat in his arms.

 “Okay, okay. Let me get out my phone.” Tony fished his Stark Phone out of his back pocket and held it out to make them all fit in the frame. “Okay say cheese!”

 “Click”

 “Okay let’s see how that one turned out.” Tony looked at the photo to see him smiling a black blur and a bland look on Loki’s face. “Nope we got try again. This time smile Loki and RC you need to stay still so we can see you.”

 And it went picture by picture they have yet to take a family portrait.

 “Shit I only got half your face.”

 “Anthony your thumb is on the lens.”

 “RC Stay still!”

 “Achoo! Ow! I dropped on my foot!”

 “Do not eat my hair you Retched Creature!”

 “Okay I set it up on a tripod. Now say cheese.”

 “CHEESE BROTHER!” Thor popped up between the two men who stared at shock at the blond god.

 “Next!” Tony rolled his eyes as Loki vanished his brother to where ever. Tony didn’t ask where the Loki sent Thunder god. He rather liked staying in the tower and wanted to keep it that way.

 “Meow!”

 “No RC! Don’t chase the bunny!”

 Three Hours Later…

 “Okay, this is it I can feel it. Now Jarvis is going to take the picture the bunnies are secure in their room. The penthouse is locked down, so no unexpected guest and RC is filled of milk to keep her calm and relaxed. And I promise after we get this picture I will have Jarvis order you favorite meal from the Thai Palace down the street and I’ll rub your feet, while we watch you favorite Harry Potter movies.”

 “Oh Anthony you spoil me. I love you.” Loki sighed as a soft smile graced his face and he leaned into his lover as Tony joined their hands together. RC who was seated now on the god’s shoulder leaned in and purred soaking up the love of her people. The genius couldn’t be happier in that moment as he had his to precious family members with him and the grin on his face was wide and bright.

 “Click.”

 Two Weeks Later…

 “Sir Prince Loki and Mr. Odinson have returned from Asgard.”

 “Great, I got everything ready. Tell Loki that I have dinner ready and waiting.”

 “Yes, sir.” Tony had the table set with Loki’s Favorite food from the five star steak house, they go to. He paid extra to have the chef come over and cook for their anniversary.

 “Ding.”

 “Thank you, Jarvis. Evening Anthony, never in my life had been so glad to leave Asgard. He talked for hours at the council over stagnant topics. What’s all this?”

 “Well my hard working God of Mischief, today is our one year Anniversary and I have planned the perfect evening. Dinner, a bath and I installed a movie screen in our bathroom so we can enjoy the movie of your choice during the bath and then I plan on us making love until dawn.” Tony pulled Loki over to the dinner table, watching as the god’s magic removed the armor and replaced it with comfortable Asgardian wear.

 “You lovely little man, you spoil me so; I don’t deserve it or you.” The Raven pulled the billionaire into his arms and planting kisses all over the man’s face.

 “Yes you do, because I love you and I got you something, well I got Cap to make it, but it was my idea.”

 “You didn’t have to, dinner is more than enough.”

 “No, I wanted to. Now close your eyes and I’ll get your present.” As Loki closed his eyes Tony ran out of the room and grabbed the portrait from where he hid it. He placed it on the wall then Jarvis turned on the lights illuminating the painting. “Okay open them.”

 “Oh Anthony! It’s wonderful.” Loki’s eyes became all misty seeing their little family together and there was so much love radiating from painting. “It’s perfect.”

 “Happy Anniversary Reindeer Games.”

 “Happy Anniversary, my Man of Iron.” Loki whispered pulling Tony in to the sweetest kiss they ever shared. They didn’t hear the click sound of Jarvis capturing the moment with the sunset background. Another memory to save for another day.

 The End.

[emilia3546]

Shadowsinger Part 21 - Gwynriel

ACOSF Spoilers! Do Not read this unless you have finished ACOSF and the Azriel bonus chapter*

Masterlist with all previous chapters

*****

Gwyn shuffled on her feet, readjusting her skirt, and silently cursed it for being in the way, she could still fight, but not as well as usual, and she'd lose precious seconds reaching for the dagger sheathed at her thigh. Azriel stood beside her, his shadows nowhere to be seen, either spread out around them to be unnoticeable, or hidden in the cloak around Gwyn's shoulders, her protests that she didn't need them having fallen on deaf ears.

"You okay?" He murmured, and she nodded,

"Just a bit nervous, I'll be alright once this first contact is over," because she could still fall at the first hurdle, Evanna had warned them that they would be scrutinized before being allowed in, even if they claimed to support the Illyrian rebellion. She stifled a smile when Azriel squeezed her fingers, their joined hands hidden beneath her cloak, but it was still a risk, they weren't supposed to be in love, she was supposed to be what the Illyrian would expect of a traditional warrior's wife, and a traditional warrior would never display affection so casually, possession yes, but not affection. If he were in love with his wife, which was rare, he'd still only display affection in private, just to maintain his image, it was one of the more ridiculous customs, Gwyn never thought more of someone than when they allowed others to see their heart. The palace doors opened and Gwyn squeezed Azriel's hand back before letting go and reluctantly dropping her gaze to the floor.

"Gavin was it, of the Skybreath Illyrian camp?" A rather young-looking man shouted from the open door,

"Indeed," Azriel replied, not shouting, but clearly making himself heard, "And my wife, Amirah," Gwyn suppressed a smile at the sound of the name that Azriel's mother had chosen, what she would have named him had he been a girl.

"We have no records of others from your supposed camp," the man's tone was low, dangerous,

"That's probably because they're all pathetic cowards who fear the repercussions of standing up for our people, ask anyone you want, I can wait, I've waited long enough for this chance, don't be the reason I lose it," Azriel matched the man's tone, but without shouting, he sounded altogether more dangerous, and Gwyn almost looked up at the feel of the man's gaze on her, fighting to keep her eyes lowered, her attention on observing the guards, the way their protocols were carried out.

"Fine. If we find out that you're lying, you're dead,"

"Good luck with that," Azriel's hand warmed her lower back, "Come on, I'll see who's made it here, then I want to find a bedchamber readied for us," Gwyn forced herself to start forwards, her bones screaming out at her for pretending to be afraid of him when she nodded, but stayed beside him when a guard moved towards them, pressing into his side at the first attempt to grab at her, "What?" Gwyn kept her frightened gaze on the guard, "Get your filthy hands off my wife," he snarled, an arm wrapping around her waist, reassuring for Gwyn, she was doing well, but to anyone else it was a display of possessiveness at a threat. "She stays with me until we reach our bedchamber, I like to know where she is, who she's with." He didn't even bother to veil the threat in his eyes when Gwyn looked up, keeping the guise of fear as she pressed against him, shying away from the guards, and allowed her gaze to dart around, marking who they were, how many of them there were, where they were posted, how alert they were. She ducked her head, following Azriel as they were led through the palace. It was just as they'd expected, with no-one taking notice of Gwyn, except to occasionally ask Azriel who she was, and then to ignore her and speak only to him, allowing her to memorize the palace, its routes, its staff, all while pretending to be quiet and unassuming.

She didn't want to watch Azriel walk away once they'd reached an empty bedchamber, didn't want to see him walking towards the enemy, all it took was one Illyrian who was high enough rank to have seen him, all it took was one recognition, and they'd try and kill him. Still, she couldn't tear her gaze away, only just remembering to make it appear that she was scared for herself, and wanted his protection, not that she was worried for him. Once he'd vanished from sight, Gwyn shot one more frightened look at the guards in the corridor and bolted herself inside the room.

Right, she did have to get the room set up, no-one was coming to do that for her, but that would take maximum half an hour, it wasn't like they exactly had luggage to unload, and then, it was a little after midday now, she'd have a few hours before dinner could be expected. Still, she was stuck in this room for now at least, she could make the most of it.

The notebook tucked into her gown wasn't big enough for every detail, not if she wanted it to last long enough, but she noted down all she'd picked up on guard movements, positions, who was alert, who was bored. It wasn't enough, she'd make a point to have Azriel find some other females to 'keep her from boredom' who she could help with palace tasks, laundry, cleaning, the Illyrians made their females do the chores at home, why not here? She'd be all over the palace that way, easily able to pick up information, it'd hopefully make their stay shorter, hopefully help with preventing a full-on civil war.

*****

Azriel couldn't dare glance over his shoulder to Gwyn, where she was undoubtedly waiting by the door to their bedchamber, even with every part of him screaming not to leave her with those people, to go back to her. He listened to what the male beside him was saying, he'd seen him before at Ironcrest, from a distance, and he was probably the highest-ranking males here, being involved in training and organisation of Ironcrest's warriors, he could be a headache later.

"Where did you find her?"

"Find who?"

"That pretty little wife of yours, I must say you're a lucky male with that one, I'd love to know what she'd feel like on my-" the male didn't get a chance to finish his sentence, breaking off with a choked gasp as Azriel slammed him against the wall, a hand curling around his throat, pure death shining in his eyes. "Whoa, calm down, I'm sorry, I wasn't gonna do anything,"

"I sure as fuck hope not," Azriel snarled, still not releasing him, fighting the urge to end him then and there, unable to shake the image of the last male who'd thought such things about Gwyn. "Touch her and it'll be last thing you ever do," the smaller male paled at the threat,

"I swear, I won't, I was saying she's beautiful," she was beautiful, but the way he'd said it, it wasn't a compliment, if Azriel hadn't reacted, maybe he would have tried something, gods, maybe someone else would. He wasn't supposed to care to like that,

"She's mine, understand?" He added, covering his tracks, the reaction was supposed to just be possessiveness, not him actually caring for her wellbeing, he wasn't supposed to be worried about that.

"Yeah, I got it," the other male was still panting when Azriel released him, "Sorry, dude, I didn't mean it like that,"

"Yes, you did, but I'm a merciful male, if you never speak of her like that again, I'll let it slide, she is beautiful, but she's mine." The male nodded,

"Noted," and took a deep breath before continuing to explain the set-up, "You're the only one from Skybreath, bunch of cowards, so we'll probably attach you to another camp, for numbers' sake, those bastards do have the advantage in that department, and they have the High Lord, and 'High Lady'," he snorted at the mention of Feyre, "But we can trust the humans to help with that,"

"How? They're fucking powerful,"

"Yeah, but they're just as susceptible to ash and faebane as the rest of us, I'd wager that they're not still taking that damned antidote. Then again, the higher-ups think we could simply kidnap their son and use him to get them to give in, but I'd like a good fight anyway, and y'know someone might end up just killing the brat, then we'd be in deep shit." Oh yes, if they harmed one hair on Nyx's head, Rhys alone was likely to simply mist the entirety of their armies before any battle, and that was if he were safety returned, at the latest, the day after he was taken, if it were longer, or if Nyx were harmed, there would be no safe place in this world for those responsible.

"Probably a bad idea that," Azriel mused,

"I'd reckon you're right, the bleeding hearts want to regain our loyalty, they'll just try and obliterate us if we hurt the boy," Azriel grunted in agreement, dropping the conversation when they turned a corner, the corridor opening into a wide chamber, filled with brawling Illyrians, a temporary training ring, not bad. He ran his gaze across the crowd, there was no-one likely to recognize him, but he still wouldn't draw attention to himself, even if wearing two siphons might do just that, but he couldn't risk it with only one, not with Gwyn here as well. He nodded a quick greeting to anyone who bothered to acknowledge him, his mind still racing. He'd have to find a way to make sure that Gwyn wasn't ever left completely on her own, if just one other male had a similar thought to the one beside him, and if he wasn't there, if she couldn't get her dagger drawn in time, he didn't want to finish that thought.

The Illyrians were well organised, not to the same degree as the loyal armies back home, but they could present a threat, especially if it was true that they were to be armed with ash and faebane. The leaders eventually decided to attach 'Gavin' to one of the smaller camps, where he'd be able to adjust more easily, where, Azriel noted with a hint of satisfaction, it would be easy to gain their trust. He made his way across the room to where his new 'comrades' were taking a break,

"Hey look, looks like they've given us the latecomer," Azriel's attention snapped to the male who'd spoken, dark hair cropped close to his skull, blue eyes, that was rare for an Illyrian, he smiled and offered his hand, "Nathan," Azriel took the proffered hand,

"Gavin, from Skybreath,"

"Oh, I was wondering if anyone would bother coming from Skybreath," Nathan chuckled, "Braver than the rest then?"

"Or more stupid," Azriel chuckled, "I've been waiting a long time for this,"

"As have we all, brother," Azriel resisted the urge to snap at him not to call him that, but forced himself to smile, to join in the conversation, and to not beat the shit out of all of them when they reclaimed a spot in the training ring. "How the fuck did you get your hands on a second siphon?" Nathan's observational skills left much to be desired, but it was wishful thinking to hope that he wouldn't notice at all, especially when Azriel had just pinned him to the mats.

"I needed it,"

"Fuck. We got a powerful one here, boys," chuckles surrounded them, and Nathan rolled his eyes as one of the others drawled,

"We know, idiot! That's why you're the only one stupid enough to fight him," another male laughed,

"He's probably some high born lord, or something,"

"Are you?" Nathan's eyes were shining with curiosity, something fairly rare for Illyrians, but he did seem young, untested, perhaps he had no idea what he was getting into, but Azriel had learned the hard way not to bother with the benefit of the doubt,

"Not really, my mother died a while back, and my father was your bog-standard warrior, nothing special really, he got killed in a border dispute a few decades ago, guess I just got lucky, the Mother likes me maybe," he shrugged, "It certainly helped on the way over here, since no one else came with us, it was just me and my wife, and she's not much help with fighting, y'know," chuckled from everyone, including Nathan,

"She clipped?"

"Who do you think I am? Of course," Azriel's temper flared up again at the approving nods from around him, only Nathan looked uncomfortable,

"You did it?"

"What? No, when she was young, like everyone else, but it did mean that I had to carry her here, which was a pain,"

"Still, bet you found a good one, being all powerful and shit,"

"Yeah, I'll have to go fetch her before we leave for dinner, I left her in our bedchamber, she'll want food," each word hit him in the core, even if none of it was true, the idea that this was normal to these people made him want to scream, but he guided the conversation back to the war, to what he needed to hear, even with his mind continually drifting back to Gwyn.

*****

Footsteps outside had Gwyn shoving the notebook back into her dress,

"Amirah!" She rushed to the door, keeping her eyes down in case Azriel wasn't alone, he wasn't, and someone let out a huff,

"Shit, how the fuck did you leave her all day?" One of the males beside him chuckled, "We'll see you in a bit," Azriel nodded and stepped past Gwyn into the room,

"You okay?" She mumbled, just loud enough for him to hear, and he nodded,

"I hate this, I have to pretend that I'm not hopelessly in love with you," Gwyn's stupid, faithless heart fluttered in her chest at those words, ignoring the way Azriel's eyes were dark, tired,

"Hey," she muttered, "It's okay, I know it's not true," Azriel's head snapped towards the door,

"Shit," he muttered, "They're still there, they're listening in, they won't have heard, but," Gwyn narrowed her eyes, and her eyes widened at the realization,

"They want to listen?"

"Moan, now, or they'll think something's up," he was right,

"I don't know what to do," she whispered, a feeling of true fear descending upon her, they'd gotten in, gotten embedded and he stupid, foolish fears were going to get them discovered, gods she was really useless,

"Hey, Gwyn," Azriel tipped her chin upwards, swiping his thumb across her cheek, "Just make any sound, you can't do it wrong, we don't actually need to do anything, just make them think we are,"

"But why? I don't get it,"

"They're all horny shits, and they've seen how fucking gorgeous you are. I've been away from you all day, they'll expect me to want certain things upon reuniting with you," oh, she knew what he meant, but just one day? That was surely excessive, but she nodded, and kissed him gently,

"I don't think I can just do it on command, kiss me, and then we'll see," she looped her arms around his neck, and did moan at the first brush of his lips against her neck, her head falling backwards so that Azriel had to hold her up, she moaned again, and he groaned at the feel of her lips against his, deliberately chucking his jacket aside so it made a loud thunk on the floor. Gwyn pressed her fingers against Azriel's lips, waiting, footsteps, they were really alone now,

"I'm sorry about that," Azriel muttered,

"What are you talking about? Kissing you is wonderful,"

"But I don't want you to think that you have to, even if it's for keeping our cover,"

"I didn't, it was just a chance to kiss you, and it was helpful to convince those others, but if I didn't want to I wouldn't have," she chuckled, "Are you sure you're okay?" Azriel collapsed onto the bed, dragging her with him with a yelp,

"I'm okay, just worried,"

"Worried?"

"About you. One of the males who showed me around made a comment that I didn't appreciate, and I doubt you would have done,"

"Did he seem like he wanted to act on that comment?" Gwyn stomach churned, and she glanced around the room, marking the locked door and windows. Azriel stiffened, realizing that she immediately knew what he was referring to,

"Not once I'd dealt with him, but all takes is one, I don't want you to have to deal with that, especially when I can't be with you, you might be on your own and," he took in a deep breath, "I just worry about what could happen if someone tries somehting,"

"I'm never on my own, Az," a shadow danced around her, "If I need to, I can fight with or without my dagger, and I want to find out what the other Illyrian females are doing here, there must be others,"

"There are," Azriel admitted, "They do the chores and stuff, help making and adjusting leathers and armor,"

"I can do that," Gwyn said, "It'll give me a chance to speak to them, to learn things that the males might overlook, and to simply be in the palace, invisible. I can 'get lost' and find my way to restricted areas, the queens' offices perhaps," Azriel pursed his lips together, but she was right, she knew he was, and no matter how much he wanted her to be safe, he knew that too,

"You're right, I know that, I just wish you didn't have to do it by yourself,"

"I know, but that's going to be how we have to work here, now," she twisted in his lap, "Tell me everything you found out today."

[honoredbastard]

ෆ self indulgent and entilted

characters — bonten!rindou haitani  + *yakuro nanami (oc) .

content and warnings   — mentions of drugs ( yo sanzu ), clubbing, stalker mention, mention(s) of drugging, yelling, angst(?), swearing, and so on.

note  — sorry for the dark content hhhhh, it came with the idea of ackerman being a yakuza that hated bonten and wanted yakuro gone. it may actually be apart of the fic i’m outlining..... these men hold my heart and WILL NOT LET GO OF IT. also they just like dive into my brain 24/7. help i had a fit over what looked best for three hours- at this point i’mma probably make a lil sum’ for sanzu. i love this man and i can’t stop having him appear in my stories that involve bonten. like this guy is 24/7 in the back of my mind.

                                         *Yakuro Nanami.                                            he/they/bun! 

                  Now playing ayanami  — by satin

rindou woke up first to yakuro wearing his bunny ears and a bunny pajama set that he seemed to just slip on before marching into bed. it was cute, but there was still smudges of makeup on his face and the dark circles of terrible inconsistent sleep. rindou sighed, brushing away blonde parts of hair that yakuro was chewing on. 

“yakuro.” rindou lightly pushed yakuro’s shoulder, trying to wake the boy in his semi bunny work attire. “rindou? rindou....” yakuro groaned, his head searched for rindou’s lap or hand that he could lean into. just exist near, to feel his skin and be aware of his warmth, that he was alive and not dead. that he stayed the whole night. “morning doll.” rindou smiled quietly, brushing his fingers over the boy’s hair. 

there was a knock on the door, “come in” as if that was a full offer to entangle himself with the couple he busted through the door and made a running start to jump onto the couple. “HI!” “i don’t do the touching, i’ll sit and pour you your drink and be your personal bunny. please treat the bunny well and we will have no problems. if they bunny feels uncomfortable the bunny has full rights to leave and find a new client. if you understand these rules please enjoy your bunny.”

yakuro stated as if he was at work. it was grilled into his brain and always had to repeat it infront of new clients. working at a bunny suit club was not it, almost rolling over onto sanzu. “bad work day?” “bad work day.” rindou confirmed sanzu’s suspicions with three simple  words. “yaku..” “no.” “yakuuu.” sanzu scooted in between the two, poking yakuro’s cheeks aggressively. he seemed sober, thank god. 

rindou shrugged the mans presence off and trudged to the bathroom to wash and whatnot. “you have another shift, ran told me to wake you up. “that’s not my problem. tell my boss to go fuck himself with a dildo filled with nails.” sanzu’s eyes widened, that was aggressive. although at the same time sorta funny?

“he said he’d cut off your shift times and cut back on how much money you make plus tips.” sanzu repeated what ran had informed him of, with a quite frustrated appearance.  “THAT FUCKER WILL NOT!” raising up from his laying position, yakuro ran into the hallway stumbling here and there from improper pace. 

“i’d love to see him try i swear if he even tries reducing my pay i’ll quit the whole fucking job how about that? i never liked this bullshit bunny shit anyways, it’s annoying when the customers try to touch and then you get stalkers.” yaku was mumbling to hell and back from his bosses call, waving to ran who nodded. making himself a bento before heading off on a small mission.

yaku threw open the washroom door and started searching for his bunny suit attire. the club’s theme was rainbow today so he washed a deep red suit with a black add-on tail and clip on black ears (which were foldable too. yakuro always folds one ear.) when yakuro made it back to his room, sanzu was gone and rindou was crouching near the bottom drawer.

“whatcha lookin for?” yakuro asked curiously, sitting beside the man who made a mess beside him “looking for a red suit now, i’m trying to match with you subtly.” cute- that was the only thinking yaku could think of this man who is a part of a criminal organization/gang. who woulda thought?

“i think you might be better with either a red with black tie or a deeper red of a suit.” yakuro suggested, getting up from his sitting position, joints cracking. “or black would go well, after all i’m only wearing red heel, a red body suit, and red makeup. the rest is black!” yakuro called out to rindou who was still crouched as he exited the room. taking into account his suggestions, he went with a more black with red accents attire.

           ާlocation, bunny palace! ෆ             late night, 11pm.

“here in bunny palace we have many bunnies to suit your taste! male, female, and even those who do not define themselves! run and created by the ackermans.” bunny palace is under the hands of those with the ackerman name. mikasa, the current owner, is softer on us than many. although the music blaring is not something you can get used to.

“hello! i’m moonie! it’s so good to meet you, are you new here?” yakuro was tired, it was about 4 more hours until he shift ended and he was already hungry again. salad’s really don’t fill you up especially when you wolf them down. his feet ached and cried out each time he took another step, he wanted to lay down and use rindou as his personal body pillow.... rindou! ‘i hope he’s okay.’ he thought, placing himself beside the very important client his boss claimed. “oh i am! it’s nice too meet you moonie.”

“it’s so good to meet you too! we have a few rules here that our bunnies tell each new client: i’ll sit and pour you your drink and be your personal bunny. please treat the bunny well and we will have no problems. if they bunny feels uncomfortable the bunny has full rights to leave and find a new client. if you understand these rules please enjoy your bunny. please keep touching to a minimal. do not force your bunny drinks or food. respect your bunny. is that doable?” yakuro asked with big puppy eyes, a big smile, and high pitched voice. “of course!” the customer happily said, hand already on his thigh.

i am SO uncomfortable was all that yaku could think about, his eyes flicking between the customer and each place his gross hands laid upon. squeezing every-so often like it was a pleasuring act for yaku. before he removed the man’s hand, he restrained himself. drawing a large breath before responding to the customer. “i’m so sorry sir! shall i get you something to drink?” yaku pouted, “if you’d like, moonie!” i’m saved.

yakuro smiled and stood up, “why of course! i’ll be right back!” like a breath of relief, he rushed to the staff room. he waved to some girls, “not on stage today moonie?” one asked, a baby stripper new to the bunny palace club. “yeah! boss was all: ‘act cutesy, be close, allow touching this once. there are really important customers here today.’ like thanks for threatening my paycheck and then saying that!”

“oh my, that’s rough babe. ackerman is always like that, it’s like she has a stick up her ass.” one of the older strippers that had been with yakuro since he started chimed in, “you’re right!” yaku chuckled, leaning closer into his vanity mirror to adjust his lipstick and have a chance to message rindou. 

40 missed messages. “i’m so fucked.” “why’s that babe?” “i may have forgot to message rindou telling him ackerman added hours onto my shift.” the room grew tense, “that’s awful? read his messages.” sei suggested, “might cool him off if he’s angry.

“alright!” yaku sighed with a smile, opening the messages. to his surprise, rindou wasn’t angry but instead worried that a client had gotten too touchy and triggered yakuro. after all, ran did inform rindou about the bits and pieces that sanzu did not tell yaku. “whew, i’m good! i’m safe. he’s just worried....” sei and bab took a loud sigh and began laughing. “BUT I’M FUCKED.” “really? that’s great! now go out! your client must be waiting.” 

yup the girls took it that way. “i will! don’t worry don’t worry. i just hope sanzu doesn’t buy the whole club.” “he won’t now go!” sei pushed out yaku who glanced over at the client who finished the previous bottle. his nose was red and was slightly swaying back and forth.

walking up to the bar, yakuro ran into polaris. “polar!” “moonie.” “can you get something for my client? he seems to be a lightweight.” “sure, i’m sure he wouldn’t mind beer.” polar sat down the cup he was wiping back and forth to keep busy.

“the bar isn’t very busy huh?” “oh no, it’s just we got our best girls today dancing and the waitresses and working ten times harder. it works out for both of them and neither of them have to fight each other about unfair pay. tomorrow you’ll be our best so good luck.” polar smiled earnestly to add to the words of encouragement, sliding over the foaming beer over the black marbled counter. 

“thanks! i’ll need it.” turning with the drink in hand, yaku noticed the man’s disgruntled face. he looked as if the whole world was going to blow up and he was watching the countdown. ‘act cutesy, act cutesy, act cutesy.’ it was a constant mantra in his head before he sat down and opened his mouth.

“what could be wrong sir?” yaku felt like rolling his eyes into oblivion, he could care less. “oh it’s just something wrong with the gang.” “oh my, a yakuza?” boring, yaku fake gasped handing over the bear to the angered man. “yeah!” he said pridefully with a chuckle, gulping the drink down and slamming it down. “something about bonten this and that and one of our men died.”

now that’s interesting. yaku felt like walking out to just go see sanzu, it felt like everything was reminding yakuro of him. hell even the purple lights were. but alas he was stuck eyeing the entrance while the man babbled on and on about this whole yakuza shin-dig he was in. he decided to slip off his shoes because the waitresses’ assured the man that they would handle getting drinks.

it felt like hours, drink after drink the world became more hazy. yakuro grew a high tolerance because of his job but he seemed to be losing himself while the client seemed more than sober. “you.. slipped somethin, huh?” the client beside him flinched, clenching onto his bag. “w-what? are you sure you don’t have a low tolerance m-mr. moonie?” the man stammered, through gritted teeth yaku managed to huff out a ‘whatever’.

“miss. ackerman set you up? thought so, the bitch never liked me because i have a bonten member for a partner. guess i’m finally leaving this hellhole. send her my best regards, yeah?” he asked with a agitated tone. his words were laced with threats, raising slowly. “mr. moonie?” “i’m leaving, i want to leave. i have to go see rindou.” he dug the acrylic nails that were done just recently into his thigh. fuck the shoes. 

whatever was in the drink didn’t seem strong but it had yakuro in and out of conscience. the man who was once his client seemed nowhere to be found, leaving a stumbling yaku to himself. sei noticed this and dropped her waiters plate, running over to the bunny who was just about to fall. “MOONIE!” 

          ާlocation, the bonten loft.             early morning, 3am.

blue eyes fluttered open, fighting the urge to close once more. “they’re awake! rindou, they’re all good!” a familiar voice echoed throughout yakuro’s head. his body felt numb, in an attempt to speak he noticed his voice was gone. every one of his senses felt like they were being drowned under water. his eyesight was the only thing that was significantly normal.

though his contacts seemed to be taken off, leaving the blue and purple hues of yaku’s true eye colour roaming free. rindou’s footsteps were heavy and had a quick pace, the vibrations went through the bed. “yaku?” his usual docile purple eyes were filled with worry and anger mixed together, forever burning until yakuro got better.

all the man managed to do was a weak smile, his eyes blinked slowly while he stared at rindou. the two conversed, rindou’s agitation growing as his jaw clenched harder with every muffled word sanzu spoke. “i am very upset sanzu, yakuro was drugged. AGAIN!” “we can’t do anything but sit it out! we don’t even know who it was. rindou you need to calm down.” sanzu too was frustrated beyong belief.

the whole loft was filled with tension that was denser than a brick wall. everyone considered yakuro a part of bonten after two years. he even got a bonten tattoo per mikey’s request. it lays on his right shoulder which he covers up during his job with makeup despite his hatred, it was the only condition ackerman gave him before he could work at bunny palace. ackerman and bonten hated each other, seeing a bonten tattoo at the ackermans would start a war. 

“he’s quitting that job and working at our club. this is the last time i’ll EVER see him like this again.” this wasn’t the first time rindou raised his voice when he was angered by the way yakuro looked in this condition. unable to move, speak, only look plainly at the wall with a weak smile here and there.

it tore him apart from the inside out each time, it did every member living in the loft. finally after whatever happened between those two. sanzu left, rindou left as well but returned with water and began to cuddle the numb and quiet yakuro.

[scribeofmorpheus]

Himmeløyne [28/?]

Pairing: Loki Odinson x Reader

Catch Up Here | Masterlist

Warnings: SMUT WARNING (but like, tasteful smut)

A/N: Finally, an update! Sorry for the wait guys, truly, I honestly thought I would have finished this series before the Loki series premiered but I've been struggling with some personal, life-gives-you-lemons shit, and I was burned out--Bad! Anyway, hope you enjoy this little chapter.  ♥

Taglist is open! Reblog, comment or leave a like please

~Y/N

The great hall was filled with boisterous laughter—not prideful, but proud all the same, enamoured with the world in the moment. Clutter of wine goblets after every toast was like music. Fandral had occasionally burst out in song between each meal served, acting like the bard he was. Thor listened intently as Volstagg recounted the last couple of days while Hogun nursed his drink in silence, content.

“I think your dear prince is in need of saving,” Sif leaned closer to you, nudging her chin towards a far corner of the room. You blushed when she called him yours.

Loki was getting an earful from Heimdall. His ears were the faintest bit red—flustered, or perhaps embarrassed—yet, if one didn’t know what tells to look for, his discomfort would be impossible to deduce from simple conversation.

You watched the two of them converse in hushed tones. Loki caught your glance and gave a wink as reassurance.  

“Oh, I think he can handle himself,” you said to Sif. Then you saw Loki rub the back of his neck, an awkward laugh leaving his lips. Whatever Loki said had given Heimdall reason for pause. They both stood there, quiet, unsure of what to say, shifting from one leg to the other. “Or not.”

“They look like they’re being tortured, poor sods.” Sif took a sip of her wine, smiling into the brim. “Go. Save them. Again.”

You excused yourself from the table and walked over to the two men. You carried an extra wine goblet as a peace offering.

“Enjoying the festivities?” you handed Heimdall the goblet. Thankful, he swirled the wine around so he’d have something to do.  

“Immensely,” Loki said a little too enthusiastically. His toothy smile was forced, out of place. The awkward silence set in again.

“Oh, since the two of you are getting along so well, I’ll head back to the table. Volstagg is on his second boar, and Sif and I placed a bet to see if he’d finish it whole. My money is on half. Sif bet on a third.” You took a step back and both men protested. You had to resist the urge to laugh. Two gods, both immensely power, were terrified of awkward silences.

Heimdall cleared his throat as if he were about to say something. Loki reached for your elbow. “Please, stay,” he whispered.

You pressed your lips together to keep from smiling too wide. His look was pleading, desperate and you found it adorable. You nodded discretely, shooting him a wink of your own. Loki let out a sigh of relief in secret, keeping one step behind you, as if you were his shield. It was subtle, but every time there was a sudden noise, he’d flinch. You reached for his hand. His hand warmed to your touch, so did his disposition

The room was lively, a stark contrast to how tense and unwelcoming the palace had been a few hours ago.

“It’s strange, isn’t it?” you said, toying with your wine close to your lips. “A day ago, this would have all seemed impossible.”

“A day ago I was being hunted by a figment of my mind. Strange is putting it mildly.” Loki’s hand squeezed yours as if he was trying to see if you were real. If everything around him was real. He emptied his goblet in a single swig. “Refill?” Loki took your goblet despite it being half-full and made his way towards the wine casks stacked against the wall.

“Get old enough, and little surprises you anymore,” Heimdall said, eyeing yours and Loki’s handfasting tattoos. “That, however, did. Is it what you wanted?”

 You searched your father’s face. There was concern present in his eyes, but his voice was soft. You looked down at your hand and then at Loki, and couldn’t help but smile. A fluttering filled your stomach. It had been a while since you’d been hopeful.

“It didn’t happen how I imagined it would, but, yes, this is what I want.”

Heimdall nodded, “That’s all I needed to know.”

“Really? That’s it?”

He smiled, “We’ve spent most of our time together fighting. Fighting the past, a king, magic. The last thing I want to do is be at odds with you. And, despite my reservations, if Loki makes you happy then I won’t stand in your way.”

“From where I was sitting, it looked like he needed some rescuing. What did you say to him?”  You watched Loki make his way back.

“Oh, that’s one secret I’m going to keep to myself.” With a smile, Heimdall kissed your forehead, ready to retire for the night. “Though, I can’t say that making him squirm didn’t amuse me. Now, I think it’s time I turn in for the night.”

“Goodnight, Father,” you said.

 He froze, momentarily, getting used to his new role, to the familiarity you were both beginning to find in your new relationship. Then, warmly, he said his goodbyes. His large frame disappeared into the bulk of the crowd and out the large doors.

Loki, more comfortable now that it was just the two of you, placed his hand on the small of your bank. His thumb brushed against the silky material there, his cheeks flush from the wine.

“Still in one piece?” you teased as he handed you your wine goblet.

“Barely,” Loki sighed in relief, shoulders slumping.

You set your goblet on a nearby table so you could run your fingers through his hair. “What did he say?”

He took you in his arms, fingers laced around the small of our back. “What any father would. That I should do my best to make you happy. And if I don’t, he’ll make sure I regret it. And I was very much inclined to believe him.”

Loki searched the room for someone, his eyes serious with thought.

“What is it?” you asked, selfishly wanting all of his attention to be on you.

He practically mumbled his next words, “I don’t see Baldrick anywhere.”

“Ah,” you smirked. “Your mother mentioned something about bribing him with sweets in exchange for a smile. I think she took him to the kitchen.”

Loki’s brow furrowed, but his smirk let you know it wasn’t agitation, it was reverie, the pleasant kind.

You cupped his cheeks to draw his gaze back down towards you, “Is something the matter?”

“N—No, everything’s fine. It’s just…there’s something about him. It’s like…” he shook his head, wisps of hair tickling his jaw. “I don’t quite know how to describe it.”

But you did, “Like you know him from somewhere.”

Loki nodded, that inquisitive look returning slowly. “Yes. Almost.”

A loud rumble, followed by some deafening laughter broke through the hall’s music. Loki flinched again, this time it was harder for him to hide his reaction. You walked towards the large doors, pulling him in tow. He didn’t protest, and from the look on his face, you could tell he was happier away from loud noises.

When the two of you were alone, strolling the hallways, hand in hand, you continued: “We’ve all felt it. It’s like we’re connected. But I don’t know-how, and he won’t tell me.”

“How did you find him?”

“That is a very long, very complicated story.”

Loki looked at the winding hallways, admiring the large columns and amber lighting. “It’s a nice night for a walk. We can take the scenic route.”

As you and Loki walked at a leisurely pace, stopping now and again to take in the sights. And once you started talking, it became easier and easier to keep going. Loki was silent, but you didn’t need him to say anything, you just needed someone to listen. It felt good, like a weight was being lifted, brick by brick. Before you knew it, you were stopped by a door, deep in the palace. It was your bedroom door. The two of you stood there, lost for words, and you could swear the air turned hot and thick. Instantly, you thought of the night by the balcony where you’d shared your first kiss. Suddenly, you felt the urge to close the distance between the two of you. You opened your mouth to say something, but Loki cut you off, his focus drawn to your intertwined hands.

“I wanted to thank you,” he said.

“For what?” you took a step towards him.

“Everything,” he looked you in the eye, squeezing your hand. “For being you. For… for being by my side when I needed you.”

You leaned close, placing a gentle kiss on his lips. At the contact, you felt a sliver of something electric, full of desire and a calmer sensation, close to contentment. Your stomach knotted, and you felt that familiar pull of your magic reaching out for his, anticipating that flutter to fill your stomach. You lingered in the kiss, waiting for his magic to touch yours, but the wait wasn’t ending so you broke away first, half confused, half disappointed. “Well, get used to it. Because it looks like you’re stuck with me.” You raised your intertwined hands to show off your linked tattoos.

The corner of his mouth twitched, that bashful smirk of his threatened to return. He kissed your forehead before taking a step back. “You should go in, rest. It’s been quite the eventful day.”

You couldn’t shake the thought that he was pulling away from you. As he motioned to turn around, you reached for him and said, “Stay with me.”

He tensed, mouth opening with no words behind them.

“I don't want to be alone tonight,” you said. “And, I think, you don’t either.”

“No. I don’t,” he admitted.

“Then why are you shutting me out?”

“Shutting you out?” he said the words as if they were an absurdity, then he laughed. “I could never dream of shutting you out.”

“I can feel this…distance between us, and I—”

A fevered rush filled your belly, the sensation you’d been yearning for and instantly, in a grand, sweeping motion, Loki cradled your face and kissed you. You could feel what he was feeling, and you knew it went both ways. You moaned into the touch and his reaction was equally carnal. His body pressed yours against the door and you could practically taste his desire, his lust. It was sweet and bitter all at once. Powerful. Glorious.

Your body reciprocated to his touch, tangling itself against him, one leg hooked over his hip. He held you steady, pressing the hardness of himself deeper. His tongue tasted of wine and you savoured it. A deep, pleasant rumble left his chest as he angled his mouth so he could further explore your own. Soon you were sharing more than emotions and phantom sensation, you were sharing thoughts, memories, fantasies. First was the memory of your first kiss on the balcony. It was tangled together with fantasy, of you beneath green, velvet sheets, moaning Loki’s name as he entered you. Then your own dreams melded in, the one of the snake and the cave. The rushing images were so potent that you could have sworn the fantasy actually happened.

Loki’s next moan was practically primal. You whimpered when you felt him harden against your lifted thigh. Your body started to ache, desperately. Loki held your tattooed hand against the door, fingers straining from the tightened grip. When the kiss ended, you both backed away, your lungs were so starved of air that you had to place your hand on your chest just to make sure you were still breathing.

“Your eyes are glowing,” he shocked out between breaths.

You placed your palm on your belly and squeezed, stifling a moan as you shut your eyes for a moment. “That was…” you swallowed, dazed by everything that was happening inside your body. “It’s never been this powerful before. This vivid. I can still feel you, feel us.”

“I hope that answers your question then.” Loki cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t shutting you out, Y/N. I wanted to do this right. Everything between us has happened so fast, too fast. But we have time now. Time enough to take things slow, to do this right.”

“Time has done nothing but keep us apart,” you licked your lips, still able to taste him. You shook your head, determined to take the next step. “I don’t want to do this right. I just want you. Besides, you can’t plead modesty now that I’m your betrothed.”

Loki stilled, a spark of mischief to him as he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Betrothed? Till today, I never knew how beautiful a word it is.”  

You opened your door and tugged at his sleeve, “Stay with me.”

Loki crossed the threshold, one hand undoing the buttons of his coat. He had given you his answer.

 ~Loki

He had wanted to do things right, not to rush headfirst into a storm of lust and longing. But as soon as his foot was through the door, as soon as he saw that her bed looked warm and inviting, he was a slave to his desire. He had wanted this for so long, even before he met her, he just never knew how to put his feeling to words. He wanted companionship, someone to make him feel like he belonged. And in the chaos of them having known each other, Y/N had given him the one thing he’d been too proud to ask for: a home.

Loki loomed over her, enthralled with the way her heavy-lidded witch eyes were near-closed in anticipation of another kiss. He obliged, eagerly. His fingers deftly worked her corset out of its laces.

“I have wanted this for so long,” he said, fingers brushing against the soft skin of her belly as her gown fell to the floor. He rushed to lift her off the ground and bury his lips at the crook of her neck.

“I’m yours,” she whimpered, locking her ankles around his back. Her own fingers worked on his shirt. Every brush of her fingers against his chest made him shudder, his mind growing blank. He indulged himself in the taste of her skin, loving the way her body felt soft and right in his grip, rubbed flush against him.

“And, I, yours,” he devoted himself to her, with so few words. And then he pressed her into the mattress, felt the firmness of it give in to the weight of them.

Her room was dark, and with a single thought, his magic ignited the candles scattered in the room. It was an instant blaze. White, hot. For a brief second, he thought he’d set them both on fire, but it wasn’t literal, it was the intensity of their passion. He was drowning in her, and her in him.

The candlelight washed over her, making her look ethereal, imagined. Too beautiful with her plump lips, witching eyes and unfurled hair as wild as the forest. He loved how perfect she looked. He loved her. And by all the nine realms, he’d make sure she knew that with each kiss, each whispered, sweet reverence.  

 Her head was filled with mist, hot, sticky and in a haze. He could feel her spinning under her eyelids. He could feel what he was doing to her nerves, setting them alight, flooding them with pleasure. It wasn’t enough, he wanted to give her more.

His thumb found the mound of her breast. With such simple contact, they grew hard and tight, just like his cock. She let out a soft cry, back arching so they could stay connected. He brought his mouth to her swelling breasts, rolling her nipple between his thumb and index finger. She tangled her hands in his hair, and Loki imagined her doing so when he was buried between her thighs, tasting her, enjoying the power of her surrender.  

“Let go,” he said, feeling her fight the tension building insider her. Their magic was completely linked, overpowering, and he knew she was afraid of how all-consuming their bond had become. In truth, he was too. It was a brilliant mix of hedonism and devotion. “Lose yourself to me, like I have to you.”

He pressed her hands flat on the bed as he brought his lips back to hers. She trembled beneath him, not bothered to bite back every moan. Something glorious was brewing in her belly, he trailed a kiss from her lips to the scar on her chest to her navel, admiring how their magic chose specific places to bloom. For her, it was her belly. For him, his chest. Then, gloriously, she came undone, gasping as her eyes blurred over, pupils dilated and dark. He nearly followed after her, gripping the sheets to stay grounded, present. He took a moment to steel himself as she began to remember the world around her. Yet, a part of her was still shrouded, hidden from him. A dark spot in a sea of light. Despite that, Loki had more to give her, and he was glad she wasn’t done either.

He rolled off the bed and discarded the last of his clothes. Y/N reached up for him, eyes just shy of open as she called out to him. He stirred at the sound of his name from her lips, husky.

“Say it again,” he pleaded, spreading her legs wider as he kneeled between them.

“Loki,” she barely managed to finish before her breath hitched.

His tongue was at her core, inside her. He had to keep his left hand balled tightly to keep from touching himself, from alleviating how desperately his body wanted to be joined with her. She rocked against his tongue, fingers knotting in his hair just like he’d imagined earlier. He let out a deep noise that was barely man.

She gasped, head rolling back as she struggled to keep centred, “That feels—”

Loki knew how it felt, he was certain he wouldn’t be able to fight the pleasure of this rush if he brought it on. Slowly, regretfully, he got off his knees and laid over her again. With what strength she had left, he rolled him onto his back and he let her, finding a new shock of delight at her dominance.

The pressure was immense for him now, as she straddled him, slick and ready.

“Are you sure?” he asked with the last shred of his willpower.

She sucked on her lower lip in, responding by wrapping her fingers around his cock, gasping as she guided him into her. Loki’s mind flashed bright with lightning, and he almost rushed to his release a second time. When they were connected, completely, he let her set the pace, bracing her body by the hips, using his strength to keep her shaking legs steady. From there, everything became frenzied. They found a rhythm, and Loki smiled every time she cried out his name. He enjoyed their endlessness. They were both eager, excited to tumble off the cliff together, joined, as one.

“I love you,” he said faintly as he filled her.

Then everything went brilliant. His head whipped to the side, climax sparking in his peripheral like stars. She shuddered, bracing his shoulders like a lifeline. He watched her climax again, swearing to remember this moment forever. Always.

“I love you more,” she whispered back.

 Sometime in the night, Loki heard Y/N stir and get out of bed. He spread out over the bed, body seeking her heat. His body and mind were both spent, too spent to even open his eyes. Time moved both fast and slow, and, eventually, he sensed her return to him, curled under his arm, and he felt complete again.

To be continued...

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[solarwonux]

Prince!Joshua Drabble x f!reader

w.c: 1k 

warnings: hints to arranged marriage, angst, suggestive, joshua is a smug little shit lol

note: Happy first day of February aka my favorite month bc it’s my birthday month lol. I will try not to upload a lot of angst this month and just share a lot of love lol. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one thank you for reading. 

It had been nearly three hours since you and Joshua had gotten stuck in the abandoned palace stables. Your patience wearing thin as he sat back twirling a strand of hay between his index finger and thumb. While you tried everything to get the door to budge open, wondering why your guards hadn’t shown up yet to save you and prevent you from committing murder.

“You know it’s pouring outside right,” Joshua spoke just when you had started to collect your peace of mind. “So, that’s never stopped them before.” You scoffed kicking the door one last time before letting out a frustrated yell. Joshua laughed at your anger, as he always did ever since he met you. He leaned back on the block of hay, almost laying down before blowing out a raspberry. “You’re so spoiled. The way I see it, this could be used as a humbling experience for you.”

“I don’t need to be humbled.” You grumbled sliding down onto the floor and bringing your knees up to your chest. The cool chill of the night rain finally wrapping around your body in a tight embrace. Joshua snickered rolling his eyes at your stubborn attitude. He brought his knees up resting his forearms against them and curiously tilted his head. “Cold Princess?”

“Nope, I’m very warm thank you for asking.” Your body growing frigid as a gust of wind blew through the small window causing a shiver to go up your spine. “Your body says otherwise.” He smirked.

Joshua stood up from where he was sitting. He dusted off his riding pants and fixed his shirt. You eyed him curiously as he made his way towards you and sat down next to you. “What are you doing?” You moved your body away from him trying to once again create distance between the two of you. “Are you clinically insane or incredibly annoying.” He moved and closed the gap you had made between the two of you.

“I don’t know, probably both.” Your teeth clacked as your body started to shiver from the cold. Joshua laughed and wrapped his arm around you bringing you close to his body, your body growing stiff. “You’re annoying I’m trying to keep you warm. I don’t want my head on a stake when your previous guards finally come to rescue you.”

“They’re your guards too.” You retorted your arms around your legs getting tighter, silently breathing in his body scent. Your heart slowly starting to race from how close he was to you, from how good you felt basking in his warmth and you hated it.

“If they had to choose they’d leave me for dead if it meant saving you.” He sighed, his hand moving down your side gently almost as if it had a mind of its own. “That’s ridiculous you’re the Prince.” You blew out a breath of air and glanced over at him, finally letting your body relax. He let a smile appear on his face, letting his demeanor fall, making him look younger. Your heart clenched knowing he too had to grow up fast in the limelight, the pressure of millions of eyes watching his every move.

“And you’re the Princess of this realm, in reality I don’t matter. I’m just here as a prop.”

“Look I may not like you Joshua, and our relationship may be…well honestly I don’t what are relationship is.” You sat up shrugging his arm off from your body before moving to sit in front of him. “J-Just don’t talk about yourself like that.” You breathed out a long sigh, avoiding his eyes knowing very well they’d be able to draw you in and that was the last thing you wanted.

“What’s this, is the Princess starting to care about her dashing Prince?” He joked trying his best to lace the bitterness in his voice, with sarcasm. You scoffed throwing a bit of sand that you had picked up in his direction before standing up. “I’m not completely heartless Joshua Hong.” You moved towards your horse, carefully lifting a hand up and starting to pet. It moved in fear making you jump back a little until it finally relaxed underneath your soft touch.

“Joking…honestly I’ve only lived here for a few months and I know you don’t have it in you to hurt a fly.” He stood up and leaned against the wall. He slowly started counting down from ten. When he reached three his body couldn’t handle it anymore and he pushed himself off, reaching you by the time he got down to one. “Your heart is one of the things I admire most about you.” He whispered and circled his arms around your waist.

“Joshua, you’ve got to stop doing that.” You retreated your hand and brought it down by your side. His lips attaching themselves to your exposed collar bone as he slowly made his way up, stopping when he got to his destination.

“What?”

“Saying things that make me want to kiss you.” He smirked against your skin and pulled you closer, letting his lips linger until he pulled away. Joshua turned you around in his arms so you were facing him again. His hand moved up the side of your body with caution, until it found your cheek, his thumb swiping across your bottom making it fall open slightly in an inaudible gasp. The intensity in both of your gazes growing furiously like the storm going on outside. You found yourself hoping your guards would take their sweet time in coming to your rescue because all you wanted was to throw away your morals, shed your perfect appearance and give into the man in front of you. Like you had wanted to since he took his first steps into the palace and flashed you a dazzling smile that had the air escaping your lungs.

“Then stop resisting, Princess. Let yourself go. After all its just me and you right now.”

[doodleodds]

I really, really, REALLY love your train!palace AU.

I was just curious if you have any other HCs for potential palaces — for either Akechi or Akira.

You don’t have to do any drawings or anything, I just loved reading about all your little details for the train AU and I’m starving for more haha

Ah thank you! I’m really glad you liked it!!! ^u^ I don’t really have any other hcs that i’m planning to draw (as of right now anyway B) ), but I did have an Akira palace concept a while ago that I’ll talk about below the cut if you’re interested! :)

(its kind of long cause once I started typing I just started rambling, so be warned)

Thanks for the ‘you dont have to draw anything’ by the way, lol xD There’s 1 drawing cause I couldn’t help myself though ;P

So, I dont know if it’ll be what you were hoping for, but a while ago i was thinking about an Akira palace about feeling overwhelmed that’s maybe called “Balancing Act” (i was thinking about calling it like. ‘tilting tower’ or something cause I think ‘tilting tower toppled’ would be a funny achievement to get once you beat it, but that just sounds too much like the fortnite thing and i cant handle that lmao), which the thieves (sans akechi- this will be explained later) probably realize exists somewhere around the end of sae’s palace.

Since the palace isn’t really akira’s distortion of a place so much as it is his distortion of what’s expected of him, his keywords could probably be something like “everyone’s happiness” and “his responsibility”? And I guess the location could just be leblanc since that’s where he lives?? I haven’t really. thought this part out too heavily lol ^^; feel free to interpret it as you’d like.

It’s probably been done before, but the whole thing is based around the idea of akira's shadow manifesting as atlas, but instead of holding up the weight of the sky, he’s holding the growing weight of people’s expectations. So, the palace itself is....you guessed it.....a tilting building! wow! It’s only not completely falling over because akira’s holding it up from the foundation, since it’s full of people he’s afraid to let down :)

sort of like that. it doesn’t have to be an apartment building, obviously. In all honesty what’s in my head is just like. a giant white cube. cause i really don’t know what “feeling responsible for other people’s continued happiness” would manifest as aside from something that could maybe hold cognitions of said people, so please accept the apartment building for now lmao (again feel free to interpret as you like)! And his outfit is definitely subject to change, i just stuck him in the first thing that came to mind xD

“BUT SOPHIA,” i hear you asking, “IF AKIRA’S RIGHT THERE, CAN’T THE PT JUST FIGHT HIM AND TAKE HIS TREASURE REALLY QUICKLY?” NO, you fool!! He’s holding up the weight of the world! does it LOOK like he’s got time to fight, let alone know where the hell his treasure is?? It being Akira’s palace, of course he cuts a deal with them- find his treasure and they can just keep it since it’ll be a weight off his mind (literally), in exchange for someone bearing the building for just a few minutes so he can have a break before they actually leave with the treasure. The thieves agree to this and eventually head into the building he’s holding up (i thought the thieves stealing his treasure literally adding weight to his mind/being another burden he has to shoulder was a funny concept here), and begin searching.

pretty much at this point I just figured the goal would be scaling the building, since the treasure is most likely at the top? (cause i mean honestly speaking if it’s not with akira, where else would it be. just finding it sitting in the middle of the fifth floor seems anti-climactic). As they ascend, they realize everything is in perfect equilibrium, perfectly balanced on both sides of the building so it helps it not topple. E.g., on one floor one side of the hall has a ryuji cognition while the other has an ann cognition, or something to that effect.

Earlier I mentioned the thieves sans akechi finding out about this palace late into the infiltration of sae’s because if the thieves were to discover akira had a palace, i doubt they’d tell akechi when they know he’s going to betray them and wouldn’t want him to purposefully muck up their infiltration. I also thought it would be interesting to see an akechi cognition in the palace, and maybe have it purposefully doing something to throw akira off balance (a consequence of him knowing about the assassination plot, explaining why it would be late in sae’s palace)? my initial thought was literally something like ‘the thieves walk into a room just in time to see the akechi cognition step off the edge of the balcony and un-balance the building, causing the gimmick of the palace to become having to leave a party member behind to keep it balanced every time something throws it off-balance on their way to reach the top’ or something. but idk! that seems a little extreme and i didn’t really put any thought into how they’d get back down afterward, so. just consider there being a trouble-maker akechi cognition, lol. ^^;

anyway! they reach the top eventually, the treasure’s there. hooray! they head back down to send the calling card. I genuinely don’t know whether akira knows about his palace or not in this au or whether he even wants the pt to steal his heart, but. He gets a calling card none-the-less, since whatever is causing his distortion is harmful to him and his friends want to help him. And I don’t feel like exploring the potential consequences of it being his choice or not rn >o>

So the pt go back in to steal the treasure! And it goes really easily. in and out! but before they can leave, Akira’s shadow asks them to uphold their part of the deal- someone take the weight of the palace for him for a minute so he can know what it’s like to exist without the weight of that on his shoulders for a minute before he disappears. Now...if you know anything about atlas’ encounter with heracles, you know that he tries to trick him into holding up the sky indefinitely. WELL! guess what happens when one of the pt takes up his mantle under the building. Akira’s like “oh gee, thank you! you’re a great friend.” and then yoinks his treasure from the others and tells them they’re going to have to try to take it from him. he’s got people relying on him, and he needs this in order to keep them happy!!

the supposed gimmick of the palace continues, in that the PT are always one party member down during the boss fight (maybe you can switch out whose holding it? i don’t see why you couldn’t, so long as someone always is).

This is where my planning on the palace kind of ends, because I’m not sure what akira’s shadow turns into during the bossfight. Back when i first got into p5 vanilla, i didn’t have a whole palace au but i had a kinda melancholy akira shadow encounter thought out, where when his friends ask why he hasn’t transformed into a monster during his boss fight he says something like “i’ve got a palace. i’m already a monster, aren’t I?” or something to that effect. so, that’s an option, but it sort of doesn’t fit the vibe so... idk! again feel free to interpret it as you will lmao.

When they do defeat him and get his treasure back, he tells them to get out of the palace before it collapses and takes the (now probably crumbling) building from whoever’s currently holding it. The thieves feel bad leaving him there, and he tries to convince them that he’s heading back to his real self in a few moments so they shouldn’t worry, but they all band together for a hot minute and help him hold up the palace even as it collapses, and it’s like. a show of solidarity? Like a “you can call on us if you need help” kinda thing? and they’re with him till he disappears and they escape.

Not sure what happens when they get back to the real world or what akira’s treasure turns out to be (i’ve seen other aus where its his probation notebook so. maybe that?), but thats it!

...yep. i’m not as attached to it as the train one (cause its not got goro in it lmao), but! that’s what i got. :>

thanks for asking though, anon! I hope that was what you were looking for!

[olliepig]

Centre Stage, ch 10

It’s taken a while thanks to real life thoroughly kicking my ass, but the next chapter is finally here! Massive thanks to my amazing beta and cheerleader @willow-salix, who, along with @misssquidtracy, @sugar-fiend, @inertplanetary and @chenria have all variously listened to me moaning and picked me up over the last few months. 

As always, the whole thing is also on AO3 here.

**************

Tucking his phone into his pocket, Scott pushed himself away from the wall he’d been leaning against, letting his long legs quickly take him around the groups of tourists as he made his way back towards the entrance to the gardens of the Peterhof. The unplanned alone time while Cat was stuck in an overrunning rehearsal had been a rare treat that he’d made the most of, exploring almost every inch of the palace and its extensive grounds as he enjoyed the peace of solitude that was hard to find on the busy island.

Now, alerted to her imminent arrival, he glanced at his watch impatiently, calculating that, despite her lateness, they would still have a gloriously uninterrupted twenty hours together before she was due back at the theatre the following evening.

Her debut with the Mariinsky Ballet in St Petersburg was a big deal, and he’d lost count of the number of times she had told him about the history of the company and the honour of being asked to dance with them. Her excitement had been infectious and, despite it causing a raised eyebrow from his dad when he had asked for the time off rota to attend, he wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

He was ashamed to admit that he hadn’t officially told his father about her, despite them having been dating for close to eight months. He knew Jeff wasn’t stupid and was completely aware that he had a girlfriend, but something had always held him back from sitting down with him and bringing it up. The obvious time for that would have been right after his return from the Oort Cloud, but it had been such early days in their relationship that he hadn’t wanted to do anything that might put more pressure on it. As the weeks went on and they grew closer, it never seemed to be the right time and, with every passing week, it   became harder and harder to admit that it had been going on the whole time.  

Turning his collar up against the bitterly cold wind coming off the Baltic Sea, Scott made it to the entrance just in time to see a sleek black car pull in. A smile crept onto his lips as he caught sight of Cat peering out at the golden domes of the palace behind him, reminding him of her first arrival onto the island where he was completely ignored in favour of Two behind him. This time, however, he didn’t have to fight for her attention when she got out.  She flew into his arms, catching his lips with hers in a fierce kiss before disentangling herself.

“Well, hello there,” Scott smiled as she grabbed her bag from the back of the car, slamming the door with a force that made him wince. “It’s nice of you to finally join me.”

“Oh shut it,” Cat grinned in response, taking the opportunity to snuggle back into him again. “It couldn’t be helped today and well you know it. Anyway, you know I’m worth the wait.”

“You sure are,” he agreed, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead as he tightened his arms around her, taking comfort from her presence. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” she murmured as she pulled back, taking him in properly for the first time, his pale skin and the dark circles under his eyes making her eyes widen in surprise. “Are you OK?” she asked, concern firing through her, “You look tired.” “I always look tired,” Scott countered, meeting her gaze briefly before quickly looking away, finding a passing bird very interesting as he saw the worry written on her face.

“OK then, smartarse,” Cat pressed, his lack of eye contact making her even more suspicious that something was amiss. “You look more tired than usual.”

“I’m OK, honestly,” Scott reassured her, finally looking at her properly, his eyes a studied calm that Cat didn’t fully trust. “It’s just been a busy week that’s all. You don’t need to worry.”

Cat nodded slightly, accepting his answer without further comment but making a mental note to keep an eye on him over their time together. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but she knew him well enough to know when something wasn’t quite right and all her instincts were screaming at her, telling her that this was one of those times.

“Shall we?” Scott asked, effectively changing the subject as he gestured to the entrance before them.

“Lead on,” she declared as they set off. They navigated their way through the imposing gates and past the grand palace, following the path that Scott had discovered on his previous exploration that would take them into the lower gardens with their spectacular fountains.

Despite the significant difference in their height, they fell into a comfortable stride with each other, Cat matching Scott’s pace with ease as they made their way around the beautiful grounds. Her hand fitted perfectly in his and he found himself absentmindedly tracing circles on her soft skin with his thumb as they walked together, not feeling the need to talk as they simply enjoyed being in each other's company for the first time in several weeks.

Cat lost track of time as they wandered, marvelling at the multitude of little fountains and walkways that littered the Lower Gardens. Scott confidently led the way down paths covered by archways of carefully trained trees, their fresh Spring leaves rustling as they provided merciful shelter from the contrasting warmth of the sun and the coldness of the breeze.

Finally coming out into the open, they came to a halt underneath the rear aspect of the palace, taking in the full vista. The late afternoon sun made the golden statues in the fountains sparkle as the water droplets created rainbows in the breeze.

“It’s so beautiful,” Cat sighed wistfully. “It reminds me a lot of Versailles.”

“Funny you should say that,” Scott smiled. “Apparently, Peter the Great extended the original plans after he visited Versailles, so I don’t think it’s a coincidence that it looks so similar.”

“How on earth do you know that?” Cat asked, trying but failing to keep the incredulity out of her voice.

“Because I’m amazing?” Scott tried, batting his eyelashes at her and making her giggle.

“Well yeah, we know you are, but generally, even amazing people need to find stuff out for themselves somehow,” she pointed out, raising an eyebrow as she spoke.

“Aah, but I’m not just any person,” he reminded her.

“Also true, but you’re not known for your interest in Imperial Russian history either, so spill it,” Cat pressed playfully, giving him a nudge and fixing him with her best pleading stare.

“Not fair,” he complained, the effect ruined slightly by the smile playing on the corners of his lips. “You know I can’t resist when you look at me like that.”

“Who said anything about fair,” she laughed as she wrapped her arms around his neck, batting her own eyelashes a few times for good measure.

“Fine,” he groaned, conceding defeat and wriggling out of her grasp to pull a guidebook out of his pocket. “I had to pass the time somehow when I was waiting for you, so I thought I’d try to learn a few things to impress you when you got here.”

“OK, that might be the cutest thing I’ve ever heard,” Cat murmured as she wrapped her arms around him again and buried her face in his shoulder, unsure what she’d done to be so lucky as to have someone as wonderful as him in her life.

Scott didn’t hesitate. Sliding a hand into her hair, he pulled her head back, meeting her lips with his own in a bruising kiss, the intensity of which took both of them by surprise. Pulling back, their eyes met briefly before Cat tightened her grip, burying her face in his shoulder once more as he cradled her head in his hand, holding her close against him, the outside world ceasing to exist.

For a long moment they remained there, cocooned in their own little world, until a sudden flash caught Scott’s eye, jolting him out of his reverie, his whole body stiffening at the first sign of a threat. Looking around he became aware that they had attracted quite the crowd, a number of whom were snapping pictures of them. Most concerningly was the woman he could see further behind the rest with what looked to him to be a telephoto lens on a professional camera. Immediately, he lost all sense of calm as his mind started working through all the options for getting them out of the situation.

Sensing his discomfort, Cat pulled back, looking up at him, taking in his troubled eyes before craning her head around to try and see what was upsetting him.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, only seeing groups of people milling around and flashing a smile at someone who seemed to be taking pictures of them.

“There’s a photographer over there,” Scott told her quietly, not wanting to make a scene and draw even more attention to them.

“OK,” Cat agreed warily, her smile fading as she took in his serious demeanour, unclear as to why he was suddenly so worried about being photographed when it had happened plenty of times in the past. “And this is a problem because…?”

“Because some of these pictures will end up in the press, and then we’ll have to decide whether to confirm or deny the speculation about our relationship,” Scott finished, suddenly unsure as to whether to keep her close or put some distance between them.

“Why do we have to do either?” Cat asked, looking up at him in confusion. “Can we not just let them talk and while they’re busy doing that, we can get on with our lives?”

“I mean, I guess that could be an option?” Scott mused uncertainly, his mind still whirling with the ramifications of them being pictured together as he reluctantly let go of her and dropped his arms to his sides.

Refusing to let anyone put an enforced distance between them, Cat discreetly slipped her hand into his and gave it a squeeze. She looked around, trying to decide on the best way to get them away from the situation that seemed to be making Scott so uncomfortable. Spotting a narrow path, she moved off, leading him away from the Grand Cascade and into a more secluded area in which she hoped they could talk more privately. Walking together quietly, she could feel him relaxing as the onlookers thinned out, allowing her the space to gather her thoughts before continuing the conversation.

The idea of making a private relationship public had always seemed absurd to her and wasn’t a subject she’d thought they would have to decide on so soon, despite the constant media interest in the love lives of the Tracy brothers and the fact that Selene had been erroneously linked with Scott only a few months before. While a few pictures of them together had made their way into the press already, they had just laughed about them and brushed them off, so she had no reason to think that any others wouldn’t be treated the same way. But Scott’s reaction, and their current conversation, suggested that she’d been mistaken about that and was going to have to think quickly.

“I’ll be honest, I hadn’t really given this a lot of thought yet,” Cat admitted, breaking the silence. “My instinct is to say nothing because it really isn’t any of their business, but I don’t know if that’ll make life harder in the long run.”

“Well, in my experience, when the press think that there’s a story, they’ll pick at it until it’s either confirmed or denied,” he replied with a sneer of disdain. “I don’t particularly like my private life being splashed across the papers, but if it comes to it, I don’t have any issues with putting a statement out confirming that we’re dating in the hopes that you’ll be left alone if we take away the mystery before it even arises.”

“Wow,” Cat breathed, her heart skipping a beat at the realisation that he was prepared to sacrifice some of his fiercely guarded privacy to shield her from the press. “I didn’t think you’d ever want to do that.”

“Of course I would; I love you,” Scott declared, stopping to pull her into him for a kiss, amazed that she could possibly think that he wouldn’t do anything to make sure that she was protected. “I don’t have any issues with telling the world if it means you’re not hounded for a story. I’m just worried that if we don’t say anything, you’ll end up being the prime target for them because you’re much more accessible than I am, so really, it’s your decision. We both need to be happy with what we do but I think it’s only right to be led by you here.”

“I just don’t know,” Cat sighed as they started walking again. “I don’t like the idea of having the press at my door, but if we say something, my concern is that my family will find out and start trying to find a way back into my life because of who you are.”

“Yeah, I can understand that, and given your previous experiences with them, I can’t say I’m surprised you’re worried about that,” Scott sympathised, giving her hand a squeeze of reassurance. “But just remember that if they do start bothering you, you’ve got my full support now and I’ll do everything I can to help in any way that you want.”

“Thank you,” Cat smiled gratefully as they came to a stop at a viewpoint looking out over the Baltic Sea. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

“There's nothing you have to face on your own now, remember that,” Scott reassured her, tucking a stray lock of her hair behind her ear and smiling as she leant into his touch. “The way I see it, we have two options right now. We either put out a press release, confirm that we’re together before the speculation gets too much and deal with whatever consequences come our way from your family, or we say nothing, continue as we are and deal with whatever that brings us in terms of disruption if the press interest becomes too much for you.”

“Yeah,” she sighed, not particularly wanting to make a decision but knowing that she had to. Her privacy was important to her too and not just because of her family, so the thought of the world knowing about her still relatively new relationship made her deeply uncomfortable. Equally, the idea of potentially having the press at her theatre or worse, following her home, didn’t exactly fill her with joy either.  

Snuggling into him against the bitingly cold wind, she took a moment just to enjoy the feeling of his arms around her, holding her close and reminding her that they were in this together, regardless of what they decided.

“Neither option sounds great, does it?” she admitted as the silence stretched between them, knowing that the decision was hers alone.

“Not really,” Scott agreed sadly, tightening his arms around her just a little bit more. “Trust me, I wish we didn’t have to deal with this sort of thing but unfortunately it seems to come with the territory.”

“I know,” she replied softly. “I guess I kinda knew we’d have to decide on this at some point. I just didn’t expect it to happen so soon. Or in Russia.”

“Yeah, I have to admit that this wasn’t top of my list of places I thought we’d be when we had to have this conversation,” Scott laughed.

“Right,” Cat declared, straightening up in a way that told Scott a decision had been made, causing him to release her from his arms. “I say that we just let the press stew. We’ve done perfectly well without confirming anything so far, and I sort of feel that as soon as you tell the world about something, you start to get expectations put on you about it and I don’t know about you, but I cannot be fucked dealing with that shit.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Scott smiled, leaning over to press a soft kiss on her head as they leant on a railing next to each other, looking out to sea.

“It’s a deal then,” Cat declared with an emphatic nod. “Let's get on with our lives and if people want to speculate, then that’s up to them. We don’t even know what’s going to happen if those pictures get published and obviously if the situation changes then we can revisit it, but I think for the moment at least, we’re better off not saying anything.”

“That sounds like an excellent plan,” he agreed, slinging an arm around her shoulder and pulling her close as she shivered slightly. “Shall we head back now?”

“Yeah,” Cat agreed readily. “It’s bloody freezing, isn’t it?”

“It really is,” he laughed, offering her his arm before leading the way back into the maze of pathways.

Walking quietly, Cat found that now the mood had lifted, she was much more aware of her surroundings. The part of the gardens by the sea was exquisite and she found herself dawdling, slowing Scott’s stride as she took in all the floral arrangements surrounding an ornate building that Scott informed her was in fact Peter the Great’s summer house, pointing out ones to him that particularly took her fancy.

A persistent chime coming from Scott’s wrist broke their conversation, taking her by surprise and his face, when she glanced up before he answered it, suggested that he was not the only one unhappy about the unwelcome intrusion into their day.

“What is it, John?” he answered smoothly, turning away from Cat as he did his best to hide his displeasure.

“I’m afraid we have a situation,” John informed him. “Four climbers trapped in the Southern Alps. Virgil and Gordon are coming to get you in Two.”

“Can’t they handle it themselves?” Scott asked. “I’m on leave and even if I wasn’t, I’m not exactly on the way.”

“I know and I’m sorry,” John sighed, his displeasure at the task that had befallen him apparent. “I’ve already checked, but Dad - “

“Gotcha,” Scott growled before John could finish. “I’ll be waiting when they get here.”

Cutting the call without even waiting for John’s response, Scott turned on his heel and began to stalk back towards the entrance to the gardens, leaving Cat to scurry along behind him.

Gone was the relaxed attitude of a few moments before and as Cat hurried to keep pace, she took in the firm set of his jaw and the way his eyebrows gathered together. She was at a loss as to his response to John’s call. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for leave to be cut short or cancelled at the last moment because of a rescue, and his reluctance to jump into action was very out of character.

The more she thought about it, the more she realised that John’s demeanour on the call had been strange too. It wasn’t the first time that he had called to report a rescue while Scott had technically been on leave but from what little she had seen, there seemed to be a tension there that she’d never been aware of in the past.

“Sorry about this,” Scott started as they reached the car park and found space large enough for Two to land, helped by the late hour and the fact that the majority of tourists had left for the day.

“You don’t need to apologise,” Cat reassured him, taking his hand in her own and giving it a squeeze as she scanned his face for clues. “It’s not the first time this has happened, and I very much doubt it’ll be the last.”

“I know,” Scott sighed, seeming to deflate a little as he stood. “It’s just really frustrating that’s all.”

“You sure that’s all that’s bothering you?” Cat pushed, no more convinced by Scott’s words than he was.

“I sure am,” Scott replied, the forced jollity in his tone grating with the tension radiating off him as he forced a smile.

“Fair enough,” Cat agreed, knowing better than to push him.

Getting Scott to talk was a delicate operation when he didn’t want to, and when he was still in the first phase of being angry or upset it was well-nigh impossible. Experience had taught her that giving him some time to process things by himself was essential and forcing the issue at this early stage would be counterproductive in the long run, making him defensive and less likely to talk even when he had calmed down, so she let it lie.

“How long do you think we’ve got before you’re picked up?” she asked, changing the subject as best she could. “Do you think we’ve got time for a walk around the Upper Gardens before they arrive?”

“I reckon so,” Scott smiled, feeling the tension easing just a little as he realised that there wasn’t any immediate need to leave. Even his usual form of transport would take a little time to get to him, and by his calculations, they should have almost an hour before he was needed. “Anyway, it’s not like we won’t see them coming.”

Cat smiled as they turned back into the gardens once more, glad that he seemed to be making the best of the situation, despite his initial reaction. Whatever was going on, she intended to get to the bottom of it, but for now, she was going to make damn sure that they enjoyed the last little bit of time they had before duty took him away again.

-x-

Letting the door swing shut behind her, Cat crossed the room and flopped onto the bed, letting her bag and keycard fall beside her as she sank slowly into the soft mattress. It wasn’t exactly the way she’d expected to return to the hotel when she’d left that morning, and she eyed the bottle of champagne that she’d ordered accusingly, as if it was responsible for her lack of company, her mind whirling as she tried to piece together the events that had brought her here.

It wasn’t the first time they had been forced to change plans because of a rescue, but it was the first time that Scott had seemed genuinely angry about it. There had always been a quiet acceptance that it was part and parcel of what he did and while it had been a blow, he had never seemed as angry as he had been when the call came through that afternoon. The way he’d cut John off and then cancelled the call without waiting for a reply had made her wonder whether there was something going on that she wasn’t privy to, and it was fast becoming a nagging doubt that her mind wouldn’t let go of.

All her instincts told her that something to do with his dad held the key to the mystery, but she had no idea what it could be. They had promised to be completely open and honest with each other and until now, Scott had never given any hint that there was anything that he was keeping from her so she hadn’t had any indication that something might be amiss.

As she started thinking back however, she realised that there had been a steady decline in the amount of times that he had mentioned Jeff over the past months, aside from brief updates about his health. When he was first back on Earth, a large portion of their conversations had focussed on how he was and Scott’s hopes for his recovery, but they had steadily lessened over time and now it seemed that he barely featured. It seemed to have happened so subtly in the six months since his rescue that she hadn’t even noticed it at the time, but given the afternoons’ events, she found herself wondering if it was more than just the natural waning of interest in a well discussed subject.

With a start, she realised that Scott never brought him up any more, and a sudden chill ran through her at the thought that when she asked after him, he had started giving the briefest of answers before rapidly changing the subject. Given his desperation to get their father home again and the risks they had all taken in doing so, it now struck her as strange that he was not the centre of more of their discussions. Aside from this, there was nothing to suggest that anything was amiss and Cat found herself desperately hoping that her instincts were incorrect, but no matter how she dressed it up, Scott’s reaction to John mentioning him seemed out of character and spoke of some underlying issue that she wasn’t aware of.

Unable to lie still any longer, she hauled herself up, pulling her phone out of her bag and dropping it on the bed before quickly tidying the rest of her belongings away in the wardrobe. It wasn’t in her nature to be fastidiously neat but she knew how much her messiness irritated him and, while Scott had never made her feel bad about it or like she had to change for him, she wanted to make sure he had a nice, tidy room to come back to when he returned.

Finding that the movement was calming her mind, she allowed herself a few moments to stretch out her legs which were beginning to protest a little after a full day of rehearsals followed by the long walk around the gardens of the Peterhof. She knew they would be absolutely fine in the morning regardless of what she did, but the familiar stretches soothed her and gave her the thinking space to decide what to do next.

Her stomach rumbling alerted her to a more immediate need to order some food. Dinner reservations had already been missed so she quickly grabbed the room service menu and ordered herself some pasta for a quick energy fix, trying to not feel too regretful of the beef stroganoff that she desperately wanted but knew would leave her too bloated and uncomfortable for her performance the next day.

She had no idea how long Scott was likely to be. Although she very much hoped it would be a simple rescue, she was thankful that at least he had another keycard to the hotel room from when he had dropped off his bags before they met so there was no need for her to stay up until he got back. With nothing to do but wait for both her dinner and her boyfriend, she grabbed her phone and perched herself on the small seat in the window, idly watching the cars go by as she scrolled through her contacts until she found the one she needed.

“Catriona, what a lovely surprise,” Penelope answered, her voice sounding strangely tinny through the phone speaker. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you.”

“Oh, charming,” Cat laughed. “Can’t a girl even give her best friend a call with no warning these days?”

“I just meant that I thought Scott was with you this weekend,” Penny huffed, though Cat could hear the smile in her voice.

“He is,” Cat confirmed. “Well, he was. He’s been called out on a rescue.”

“So you thought you’d call me to pass the time?” Penny queried.

“Something like that, yeah,” Cat agreed, finding herself annoyingly at a loss for words, her worry about the outcome suddenly outweighing her desire to ask Penny’s opinion.

“Well, you've caught me at a good time. I’m just on my way to dinner with the Swedish ambassador.”

“Ooh, that sounds fancy,” Cat cooed. “Are you in the car just now? And am I on speaker?”

“I certainly am, and yes, you are now,” Penny confirmed after a small pause, bracing herself for what she knew was coming.

“Hi, Parker,” yelled Cat, hoping that her friend had taken the phone far enough from her ear to avoid being deafened.

“Hello, Miss Catriona,” Parker replied without missing a beat, quite used to Cat’s tradition of greeting him as he was driving, one that had started when the girls were at school together.

“Now that you’ve got that out of the way,” Penny continued seamlessly, changing the phone back to its more private setting, “how are the rehearsals going?”

“Yeah, they’ve been fine, thanks,” Cat confirmed. “No matter how many lessons I got from John, my Russian is still pretty much non-existent but everyone speaks good English so it’s not been too bad.”

“Well, that’s good,” Penny replied. “And are you all set for tomorrow?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be. The stage is massive though and the rake on it is more than anything I’ve ever danced on before so it’s a bit daunting. I don’t want to travel so far downstage during the fouette’s that I fall into the orchestra pit.”

“Yes, I can imagine that being a concern,” Penny soothed. “I’m sure you’ll be wonderful as always.”

“I hope so…” Cat tailed off, the weight of expectations for the following night weighing on her in a way that they hadn’t until now.

Admitting her fears made it feel like a lot to handle. Dancing Swan Lake with the company that it had originally been created on nearly 200 years before was scary enough, without the added stress of worrying about whatever was going on with Scott. She’d very much hoped for a relaxed evening that night, but it clearly wasn’t going to be on the cards.

“What’s wrong?” Penny asked when the silence stretched out between them. It wasn’t like Cat to sound so overwhelmed, and worry spiked through her.

“Nothing,” Cat sighed. “I just… Do you know if everything’s OK on the Island?”

“As far as I know,” Penny replied, her interest piqued. “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t really know. Scott just seemed really tired and he wasn’t at all happy about being called out, which is really unlike him,” Cat replied, the words tumbling out now that she had opened the dam.

“I’m sure he was just disappointed to have to leave you,” Penny soothed. “And as far as him being tired goes, he’s probably just been burning the candle at both ends again. You know what he’s like.”

“That’s what he said but I just don’t know,” Cat sighed, rubbing her face with her free hand. “Something just doesn’t seem quite right.”

“I could always ask Gordon or see if I can find anything for you if you’re worried?” Penny asked, keen to do whatever she could to help out.

“No, no it’s OK. I don’t want to go snooping.” Cat squeaked, instantly regretting her choice to involve her friend. “Scott’ll tell me when he’s ready if there’s anything going on. I shouldn’t have asked. Sorry.”

“OK, well it’s your decision,” Penny replied smoothly. “The offer is always there if you want.”

“Thanks, but I couldn't invade his privacy like that,” Cat declared, already feeling uneasy about involving Penny in something that she was now sure Scott would rather be kept private.

“Yes, it might not be very popular,” agreed Penny.

“Anyway, how’re you?” Cat asked, rapidly changing the subject now that she was convinced that there wasn’t anything obvious going on that she’d missed. “How was that thing you and Gordon went to the other week?”

“Oh, the Governor’s garden party? Yes, it was lovely,” Penny confirmed, a hint of frustration in her voice making Cat instantly wary, even before she elaborated on the event. “Gordon though… well, you can’t take that boy anywhere.”

“Uh oh, what did he do?” Cat asked, moving away from the window and settling herself in a chair, feeling the need to be comfortable while she dealt with whatever complaints were heading her way.

This wasn’t the first time that Gordon’s natural exuberance had caused Penny to air her grievances about his behaviour after an event, but if she was honest, Cat had only occasionally felt that they were justified. The few events of this type that she had been forced to attend had been painfully boring and very restrictive in what was acceptable and her sympathies almost always lay with the aquanaut. However, her loyalty to her friend ran deep and so she felt she needed to be there to support and help in any way she could.

“Well, firstly, he wandered off while I was talking to the Governor's wife and was nowhere to be seen,” Penny began, her clipped tone making Cat wince slightly, her anger apparent. “And then when I did find him, he was in a corner of the grounds, playing what looked like rounders with some of the children.”

“And this was bad because…?” Cat asked, genuinely unsure as to why Penny was so upset about it.

“Because everyone knew he was with me and it is not how one is supposed to behave at these sorts of things,” Penny huffed. “There were lots of very important people there and I heard a good number of them making comments about it. There were chaperones employed to occupy the children so there was no need for him to be involved.”

“OK, I understand why that might be a bit embarrassing, but it sounds exactly like something Gordon would do,” Cat countered, wanting to challenge her a little.

“He used to act like this as a child,” Penny grumbled, the anger still evident in her voice. “He should have grown up by now.  Anyway, it wasn’t just that. I spoke to him about it and he apologised but then he disappeared again and I found him holding a platter of canapes and offering them to people. Apparently, a waitress had fallen and he was ‘just trying to help,’ but that’s what the staff were there for. It’s unheard of for a guest to behave in such a manner.”

Cat sighed. She could see where Penny was coming from and why Gordon’s actions would have been embarrassing to her at the time, but that didn’t mean that it was the disaster that she was making it out to be. Getting her to admit she was overreacting was a delicate task, but she had time on her hands and she felt like she owed it to Gordon to at least try.

“Admittedly I don’t know him as well as you do,” she began cautiously, picking her words carefully, “but again, that sounds like something that’s absolutely in character for him. I know for a fact that Scott would too if it had been him that was there.” “In normal circumstances, yes, helping someone who has fallen is admirable,” Penny agreed, a concession that Cat was surprised she had made so quickly. “But you know how stuffy these events are. I don’t like some of it any more than I’m sure Gordon does, but it’s what is expected and you need to play a part to fit in. My standing depends on it and I simply cannot be shown up like that by my guests.”

“I know,” soothed Cat. “But remember, all of the boys save people for a living so it’s basically instinct for them now. Gordon probably just saw someone in need and went to do whatever he could to help her.”

“I know, but I just need him to think a bit more about where we are and the image he’s projecting,” Penny sniffed, the anger slowly leaving her voice.

“I understand that, but just don’t go nagging him too much, OK?” Cat warned. “Just remember that it was his attitude of making the most of every opportunity and grabbing life with both hands that was one of the things that made you fall in love with him in the first place. I know you’re pissed off just now, but you can’t just expect him to turn that off when it doesn’t suit you.”

Silence stretched between the friends as Cat’s words hit home. Ordinarily, she would have tried to fill the gap, offering more advice or sympathy for how Penny was feeling but she was suddenly worn out. She’d lost track of the number of times she’d had conversations just like this one with Penny over the years, her boyfriends never quite living up to her exacting standards.

“I know,” Penny finally replied, her voice unnaturally quiet. “Anyway,” she added, sounding much more like herself, “his heart was in the right place and I suppose that’s the most important thing, not what everyone else thinks.” “I think you’re right there,” Cat agreed, her energy lifting now that Penny seemed to have accepted her words. “Nobody's perfect, but you’ve got a good one with a heart of gold and ultimately that’s who you fell in love with.”

“It certainly is,” Penny agreed. “Anyway, darling, I’m just about to arrive so I need to go.”

“No worries,” Cat smiled. “My dinner should be here soon anyway so I’d better head off too. Have a fun evening.”

“I’m not sure I’d call it fun but I’m sure it will be fine,” Penny laughed, the smile back in her voice again now that they were on more neutral topics. “Best of luck tomorrow, not that you’ll need it. Goodbye.”

“Byeeee,” Cat sang cheerily, hanging up the call as she crossed back to her perch in the window.

Looking down idly once more at the cars speeding past on the street below, Cat let her mind wander back over the conversation with Penny. It definitely didn’t seem to her like Gordon had made any massive mistakes, and even Penny herself had admitted that she didn’t always agree with the expected behaviour at the events she was so often called upon to attend.

Having been in attendance at some of these events herself in the past, she had first-hand experience of the rigidity of the class division between guests and staff. She had always found it laughable and so her sympathies were firmly with Gordon for acting as he had, especially in regard to the waitress. In any other circumstances, Penny would have been commending his behaviour, so she knew that her friend's anger had come from embarrassment caused by the situation rather than any real judgement on his actions.

Cat sighed, hoping that Penny would allow Gordon the time to mellow into the experience of attending high society events and not become too overbearing in her desire to help him fit in. Even though her concern always came from a place of generosity, Cat had found to her cost that it was sometimes misplaced and unwanted and she was well aware of how hard it could be not to get swept along with her, although she had a sneaking suspicion that Gordon might stand a better chance at avoiding it than most.

Quickly shrugging away unwelcome memories of her own painful experience of being on the receiving end of Penny’s help, she checked the time on her phone, wondering where her dinner was as her stomach let out another loud grumble of protest. No reassuring message from Scott telling her that he was on his way back was yet forthcoming either she noted, so she figured she probably had at least another hour or so before he was back too, depending on the complexity of the rescue.

She had to admit that she felt a little calmer than she had before now that she knew Penny wasn’t aware of anything that could be causing issues on the island. Aside from her obvious concern that Scott was unhappy, the fact that John seemed to share his anger had made her worry that her physical distance from the family meant that she had missed a more general issue and hadn’t been a support to him when he had needed her.

It was clear to her now that the issue was perhaps more limited to Scott and possibly John as she was sure that if Gordon was directly involved, then Penny would have known about it too. A little twinge of guilt spiked through her at the thought that she might have given Penny a hint of something that he might have rather be kept private but she shot it down quickly, reminding herself that she had only asked in the most general sense, not mentioning anything to do with her own suspicions as to the cause of his earlier anger.

A sharp knock at the door shook her out of her musings and sent her scurrying across the room to retrieve her dinner, having to stop herself from grabbing it from the bemused looking porter on the other side. Her stomach growled at the delicious smells radiating from the plate in front of her as she settled herself down at the small table and tucked in, but her troubled mind continued to whirl. All of her instincts were screaming at her that something was going on so, with a sigh, she grabbed her phone and scrolled through to find the number she needed. Placing it down, she drummed her fingers on the table as she listened to the rings until finally it was answered.

“Hiya Tippytoes!” sang the voice on the other end.

“Selene? Can I ask you something?”

[beeexx]

Part 2 of snippets from Ivan and Fedyor’s season 1 pov. Home is where the heart is.

Loving in a time of war. Read part 1 here. 

Ivan’s slept too little to be awake at this hour. It’s barely morning, the sun is just beginning to paint the sky, but the curtains haven’t been drawn properly and light dances off Fedyor’s sleeping face. They’ve moved during the night, Ivan is facing the door, his back to Fedyor, who has snuggled close, one hand wrapped over his waist and his face in Ivan’s neck, puffs of hot air tickling his skin at the steady rise and fall of his chest. Ivan’s lips twitch into a small smile as he carefully shifts out of Fedyor’s grip and gently places his arm back on the soft silk sheets. He scrunches his face up, like he subconsciously knows Ivan’s out of reach and Ivan reaches out to smooth the wrinkles over, pushing some of his fringe away from his eyes. His hair is soft and unfixed like it’s not often these days and Ivan likes it the best this way, when Fedyor, almost always so open, is even more open, the armour even he wears around the palace is stripped back completely and just there for Ivan to see. 

“It is too early even for you to be awake.” Fedyor murmurs sleepily and blinks his eyes open. He closes them almost immediately again, shielding them from the sun. 

Ivan hums agreeably but considers going outside just the same. He feels restless and his mind is already whirring too much for him to be able to go back to sleep so a walk on the palace grounds when most people haven’t risen yet sounds somewhat appealing to him.

“It is too early for walks too.” Fedyor says like he can read Ivan’s mind and he blindly reaches for Ivan’s arm before he pulls, making Ivan huff. He goes willingly, leaning over him on his elbows.

“Stay.” Fedyor opens his eyes, brown with speckles of golden inside of them and Ivan hums.

“I guess I could be persuaded.” 

Fedyor laughs and looks a little bit more awake immediately, attention fully on Ivan, expression a little smug suddenly. The morning light throws his sharp features into stunning relief and Ivan has yet to see a sight rival this man.  

“Could you now?”

“Depends on the bargain.”

“You know me, I drive a very hard bargain.” Fedyor’s eyes are crinkled up adorably as he tries not to laugh at their ridiculousness but his hand comes to rest on Ivan’s sheek, fingers trailing over his morning scruff. 

Ivan takes his hand in his and kisses each finger reverently and Fedyor’s breath hitches before he grabs Ivan’s face and pulls him down to kiss him roughly. Ivan cuckles against his lips but even when he does it he can feel excitement beginning to pool in his stomach and his toes curl as the kiss grow more heated, the promise of what is about to happen making him feel giddy.

…..

It’s later, in fact probably a lot later when Ivan gets up to get them some water. When he comes back he pushes aside the curtains completely, smiling as the warmth of the sun lingers on his face and takes in the view of the apple orchard that has finally started to bloom. He’s heard that it’s taken it longer than usual this year. 

Fedyor stretches like a lazy cat, sheets tangled in his legs but he accepts the water with a small proud smirk and Ivan rolls his eyes at him. 

“You want me to heal that?” He asks and pushes the pad of his thumb against the love bite on Fedyor’s throat. The kefta won’t be able to fully hide it, it will peek through if he moves his head, which Fedyor is very obviously aware of. 

“No.” Fedyor says simply and Ivan nods. “Do you want me to heal those?” Eyes sparkle with mirth as his own hand trails further down to Ivan’s neckline, dotted with little marks from their earlier love making.

“No.” He mirrors Fedyor’s words and Fedyor smiles, pleased. 

“Thought so.”

“We’re late.” Ivan comments but makes little indication he’s going to move away.

“Are we?” Fedyor drawls, aware that they are. 

“Yes.” 

“No one would notice.” Fedyor moves to sit behind him, placing a sloppy kiss on his shoulder blade.

Ivan snorts 

“We both know that’s not true.” But he leans into Fedyor’s touch anyway, his eyes falling shut instantly. 

“Well it’s not the first time we’ve been late…”

“No, I recall those other times vividly.” His tone is pointed and Fedyor chuckles against his skin.

“My love, I think you might need to get your head checked, because if you recall correctly you had a bit of a trouble streak back in the day.” It makes Ivan chuckle because while that might be true, Ivan always managed to get away with it back in the day, his reputation of orderly and seriousness serving him well. Less so for Fedyor who got the blame, he took it with a secret little smile and never corrected anyone so the assumptions that Fedyor was the one behind it stuck. He turns his head and angles it so he can capture Fedyor’s mouth in a hot searing kiss, never getting enough of him, not even after years together. He messes up Fedyor’s hair and he shifts slightly, Fedyor’s hand coming to rest on his chest again, responding to the way Ivan’s heart is beating under his palm. 

“Good thing I am older and wiser and know not to be late anymore.” He says against Fedyor’s lip before he draws back. Fedyor’s huffs and opens his eyes, brown eyes dark before he frowns and plops down on the bed, frustrated. It makes Ivan laugh and Fedyor waves his hand in retaliation sending blood to the lower regions of Ivan’s body causing him to suck in a sharp breath. Fedyor giggles and Ivan sighs. 

“Fine.” He agrees and climbs back into bed, his husband’s delighted face worth all the trouble they will get for this.

…..

Ivan doesn’t often get a moment to himself these days. He rarely has time off and even when he does have some time to do what he wants he’s rarely alone. But he’s more tired than he’s been letting on and a moment to himself is what he needs. He’s found a secluded spot on the palace grounds, by the lake but off from the common path and not visible if you don’t know where it is. There are birds singing in the treetops and the wind that keeps rustling the leaves is a comforting sound to his ears. 

He exhales. 

A twig snaps suddenly and Ivan freezes for a moment, hands raised the next, ready to defend himself against enemies. It turns out it’s just Zoya, who is clearly fuming as she walks angrily towards the clearing, sending leaves in all directions as she walks.

“I regret ever telling you about this place.” Ivan mutters. She stops, her furious expression slipping for a moment as she spots him before she scowls at him. If there was anyone in the little palace that could rival Ivan in scowling it would be Zoya. He ignores her in favour of closing his eyes, focusing on his breathing to get the moment of serenity back.

But Zoya seems to have other plans and the wind around them come back stronger and colder in a very unpleasant way as she keeps taking her anger out on the environment.

“If you don’t stop this right now I will burst a blood vessel in your brain.” He warns without opening his eyes and the wind abates around them. She stops using her powers to take out her anger, instead she stomps around and growls in frustration like a goddamned child. It is almost as annoying as her earlier tantrum. 

“Saints, can you go have a tantrum somewhere else?” He snaps, his patience all but gone. She glares and kicks a rock before she saunters over and drops herself down unceremoniously onto the bench by his side.

“It was not an invitation for you to sit.” He grumbles but moves anyway to make more room for her. 

“Good thing I don’t care what you think.” She snaps at him and he bites his twitching lips. Despite how extremely annoying Zoya can be Ivan likes her well enough from time to time. 

They both sit quietly for a while and it’s peaceful enough that Ivan forgets she’s there for a moment. Until she groans again.

“Aren’t you going to ask what is wrong?”

“Do I look like I care?” She rolls her eyes.

“If you want sympathy go find someone else to bother.”

“I am realising it was a seriously grave mistake to find you of all people, I should have gone for Fedyor, at least he is sane enough to like me.”

“You will hear no arguments from me.”

She gives him an imperious look that Ivan ignores. 

“What are you even doing here?” She asks instead.

“Trying to get some peace.”

“What, here?”

“Isn’t that the same reason you are here? To get away?”

“Maybe.”

“You are getting predictable Zoya.”

“It was this or shove Alina Starkov into the mud.”

That makes Ivan chuckle unexpectedly and Zoya smirks. 

“Impressive restraint on your end.”

“Oh I’m nothing if not impressive.”

“She is not worth the trouble you’ll get in.” He offers her and she rolls her eyes. 

“Says the one already in favour of the General.”

“I worked hard for that position.”

“So did I.”

“Well maybe you should start looking elsewhere for whatever it is that you want.” Her eyes narrow and the air vibrates between them in her fury.

“Maybe I should hurl you into the lake, that might make me feel better.”

“I’ll put you to sleep before you’ll even have the chance to move.” He doesn’t spare her a second glance, she’ll know the threat is real enough. She sighs before she grows silent, staring out onto the water, eyes distant.

“I worked hard to get where I am Ivan, every day I pushed myself harder to get stronger, better, faster and here she swoops in, all muddy and afraid and suddenly everyone loves her, I don’t get what everyone sees in her.” It’s a rare moment of vulnerability from her he’s not too used to seeing. 

Zoya is younger than both him and Fedyor and Fedyor had taken to the angry girl immediately when she came to the palace. She had warmed fast to him, everyone did, but it had taken a nasty incident with some older Corporalki girls where Ivan had stepped in that had made him and Zoya friends. Ivan might be stubborn, hard working and grouchy at times but he did appreciate stubbornness and commitment which she clearly possessed. She averaged fast when she got here and that didn’t go unnoticed by some older students who didn’t appreciate it and had chosen her as an easy target to take out their failings on.

He had held his hand out to her where she was sitting against the wall, her face downcast as she wiped furiously at her eyes. 

“I don’t want your help.” She had said, her voice steely.

“Good thing I’m not offering you help then.” He had answered her, just as curt, but his hand was still there between them and she had narrowed her eyes before she had let him help her up. She dusted off her kefta and Ivan had watched the smaller girl pull herself together, her pain masked behind a face of indifference. Fedyor would comfort her, offer up some great advice or something. He wasn’t Fedyor. 

“I’d say to keep up what you’re doing at least, the best revenge is success.”

She had studied his face for a moment and he hadn’t smiled or really given any indication that he cared, but a small smile curled at her lips anyways.

“Terrible advice, I already know I am better than those girls.” That made him grin though.

“Doesn’t hurt to hear it every now and then.”

“No, it does not.” She said more somber. She didn’t thank him and he didn’t need it, but something did pass between them that made them understand one another better and the small stubborn girl that didn’t give up had carved out a place in his heart. 

“Hope, that’s what they see.” He says, bringing himself back to the moment.

Zoya furrows her brows.

“It’s not something I can compete with.” She mumbles, a little sadly. Ivan sighs, his treacherous heart twinging in his chest.

“No, but maybe you shouldn’t.”

“It’s not my way to give up.”

“It’s wise to know which battles to fight and which to not.”

“I know which battles to fight.” 

“Zoya…” He begins, clears his throat from the soft voice that has slipped through. He starts again. “Chasing after the General will do you no good.”

She narrows her eyes again.

“What would you know about chasing?”

That makes Ivan laugh and it catches Zoya completely off guard for a moment, her eyes widening in surprise.

“Did you just… laugh?”

“You said something very funny.”

“Saints, I can barely make you smile on a good day and now you’re suddenly laughing?”

“Do you often try to make me smile?” 

She scoffs and rolls her eyes at him before she averts them to hide what Ivan thinks might be a faint blush. 

“Shut up.”

“Gladly, I would like to return to my peaceful moment.”

“Will you tell me about your history of chasing or shall I have go to Fedyor to get that information?”

“Fedyor would keep my secrets from you.” She rolls her eyes.

“He would…” She says after a while. 

The birds have gone back to their twittering and he enjoys the sounds of the alive forest around him. 

“You’re lucky to have him.” Her voice edges on wistful in its sadness as she interrupts the moment yet again. 

“I am.” He admits because it is the truth. 

“I would like you to tell me how you met.”

“That will never happen.” 

She chuckles.

“I will get the story out of you one day Ivan, I just need to find the right bribing material.”

“That will take you a lifetime malen'kiy.” The old nickname slipping through. 

She smiles brilliantly at him and Ivan offers one back in return.

…..

Ivan is in their room when Fedyor comes back, sitting down, in the process of shaving. 

“I hear you let the sun summoner out of your sight today.” He comments, meeting Fedyor’s eyes in the mirror. His husband at least has the decency to look a little bit guilty before he shrugs and comes forward, wrapping his arms around Ivan’s shoulders. 

“It wasn’t so serious. She just wanted to see the acrobats. Besides, Genya was with her at all times.”

“I see.” He drawls, unimpressed. Fedyor shakes his head, a little peeved. 

“Love do you not remember being young? Wanting to be free, have some fun?” He raises a pointed eyebrow, voice a little stern and Ivan’s demeanor falters for a moment as a small little smile slips through at the memories.  

“Oh I remember.”

“We used to get in so much trouble.” Fedyor giggles, his annoyance forgotten as he places a kiss on top of Ivan’s head. 

“Yes and whose fault was that?” 

“Oh I remember your trouble making streak darling.” Ivan grins and goes back to the task at hand, not admitting anything. 

“She was fine you know.” Fedyor says after a while. Ivan grunts as a reply and Fedyor rolls his eyes, a little fondly. 

“I think it did her some good too.”

“Well she should be focusing on practicing her powers rather than avoiding duties and having fun.”

“What a boring life it would be, to not have any fun.” Fedyor says and spins the chair Ivan is sitting in around before he graciously sits down in Ivan’s lap, plucking the shaver out of his hand. 

“Some people could do with less fun.” He comments drily but lets Fedyor continue with the shaving. 

“Some with more.” 

Ivan huffs. 

“She could have gotten in trouble, then all the preparations for the future would have been wasted.”

“Well I told her off if it makes you feel any better. I tried out my impression of you, worked wonders.” Fedyor’s eyes spark like they do when he’s proud of himself, the joy so contagious Ivan can’t bear to be disgruntled. 

“Oh, that I am impressed by my dearest husband.” He is in fact a little proud. Fedyor grins.

“And, ah, I also think the General is quite fond of her, don’t you think?”

Ivan rolls his eyes. 

“I’m sure she won’t even get in trouble for her little rebellious act, in fact I think he’s a little bit impressed by her.”

“I’m sure it’s not the only thing he’s impressed by.” Ivan mutters and Fedyor laughs.

“My my, is that jealousy I detect?” 

“Don’t be stupid, I do not harbour any jealous feelings of the sun summoner, I am not Zoya for saint’s sake.” Fedyor only laughs harder and puts the shaver up to Ivan’t shin. 

“No, it would be quite unlikely of you to feel jealous when it comes to women.”

“They are not my type.”

“Oh I’m well aware.” Fedyor smirks and Ivan thinks of pushing him off his lap but he doesn’t want to risk getting his throat cut so he tightens his arms around Fedyor instead and Fedyor smiles sweetly before he continues with a ridiculous precision and care he will only extend to Ivan. 

“So, all done.” Fedyor says after a while and takes the towel from the sink, wiping his face clean. 

“Good. Thank you.” 

Ivan’s eyes travel to the newly arrived keftas hanging by the massive wardrobe and he can’t help but frown. Fedyor puts his finger on the scowl and smooths it over.

“No grimaces when there is a party happening.” He chides without any heat and Ivan’s eyes move over to his face instead. 

“You only want to attend this party because of the sweets my love.” 

“Ah there are going to be so many baked goods there.” Fedyor says excitedly. 

“Only you will get this excited over the prospect of sweets.”

“That is because there is nothing quite in this world that can rival sweets.”

Ivan lifts an eyebrow making Fedyor laugh.

“I said quite.” He defends with a laugh and Ivan stands up, wrapping his arms around his husband's waist and places a kiss on his nose. Fedyor’s legs wrap around him in return and his arms come to rest around his neck. 

“Come on, let’s get ready for your party then.” Ivan says with Fedyour’s laughter in his ears. 

[ihatecoconut]

Working it Out

Cross Posted to AO3

Phillip was staring out the window when she stepped into their room. He hadn’t even remembered to loosen his tie, which was odd because he hated wearing them and always removed them as soon as possible.

“Hey.”

He turned, smiling slightly when he saw her, “Hi.”

Martha stepped up behind him, hooked her chin over his shoulder and looked out to what he was staring at. Henry and Alex were in the courtyard, holding hands, Bea with them and they were all laughing.

“They look happy.”

Phillip nodded.

She pulled him away from the window gently, sitting them both down on the ornamental sofa which he had once told her was probably more decorative than functional, and took his hands in her own.

“What are you thinking?”

“They released their photos today.”

“Alex and Henry’s?”

He nodded, staring down at their joined hands.

“Hey,” she said, nudging his chin up so he was looking her in the eye, “I thought we were supporting them.”

“We are,” he replied almost instantly, “of course we are, I want Henry to be happy.”

Martha nodded, carefully, “So what’s the problem?”

“Have you seen them? The photos?”

She shook her head, “Why?”

Phillip glanced back towards the window. “They looked happy. Real. Like they were actually in love.”

“They are.”

“I know!” He cried, pulling away from her. “And so are we!”

“Pip, love,” she rose to stand in front of him, “I don’t understand.”

He sighed, dropping his head onto her shoulder and making a small noise when she ran her fingers through his hair. “Ours looked fake.”

“Our photos?”

She felt him nod.

“And you’re… jealous?”

He stiffened slightly, raising his head. “Yes. I suppose I am.”

“Is there something else?” she pushed gently, seeing his eyes stray back to the window again.

“He- Henry- he said he wanted to live his truth.”

“By being gay.” she prompted.

He nodded, absently, as if that wasn’t what he was trying to convey. “And Bea, too, she can be open now about her addictions.”

Something clicked in Martha’s head then, “Both of them are able to be themselves after being supressed.”

“I did that.” He said miserably. “I didn’t mean to, but I did that. And I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Do you want to be someone else?”

He paused, drawing away from her and walking over to the mantlepiece, “Will you always love me?” He asked, suddenly the quiet, shy boy she had first met who was mostly overshadowed by the prince.

“Always.” She replied. “Even if you tell me that you’re also gay, I’d be very heartbroken, but I’ll always support you and love you.”

He laughed slightly at that, “No, no, I’m not…” he frowned, turning serious again, “I don’t like children.”

“Alright.”

“And I don’t want to be a father.”

“We don’t have to have children.”

“But the monarchy-“

She stepped forward again, cupping his face in her hands, “You have two siblings and plenty of cousins. It doesn’t just fall on us.”

He nodded, not meeting her eyes, “I just feel like something will go wrong if we don’t.”

“Things could go wrong anyway.”

“I suppose. I wish I could talk to them.”

They had somehow managed to drift back to the window and were looking out again on Henry, Alex, and Bea. Catherine had joined them, and she hugged both her children and Alex fiercely.

Martha paused, “I might have a solution for that.”

*

“Family therapy?” Bea repeated, a little incredulously.

“Yes.” Phillip was standing opposite the three of them, Alex having been sent back to America, and desperately wishing he had brought Martha with him.

“Oh, so after all those years of…”

“I think it’s a great idea.” Catherine interrupted loudly, cutting off whatever angry rant Bea was building up to.

Phillip glanced over to his brother who had remained silent for the whole discussion, “Henry?”

Henry startled at the sound of his name, as if he hadn’t been expecting to be called on. “Uh, I agree with mum.”

“You do?” Bea asked.

He nodded, “I think we need this.”

“Need what?” Bea demanded, “some stranger digging around in our issues?”

“It’s more some stranger helping to solve our issues.” Phillip offered, shutting up when she sent him a glare.

“Well,” Catherine said, attempting to stave off an argument, “that’s three votes for yes. So, we’ll try it.”

“Were you going to invite gran?” Henry asked, glancing at Phillip and then away again. He still seemed incredibly awkward around Phillip, but then Phillip had a lot to answer for.

“No. I don’t think she would…”

There were general mumbles of agreement from the other three.

“Alright.” Catherine clapped her hands together, as if sealing the deal. “Pip, did you have any in mind, or would you like to look together?”

“Martha recommended a few, I thought you might like to look at.”

“Then we’ll look.” She smiled at him, proud of his planning and it hit him in the chest like a bullet.

*

“You think that was the first time she had smiled at you in a while?” the Doctor asked once they had finished recapping how they arrived at family therapy.

Phillip nodded, not meeting anyone’s eyes.

“Alright.” She made a few notes in the notebook she had brought.

Phillip used that moment to look around the room. They had managed to choose a therapist who was willing to come to them, so they didn’t have the security risk of them all leaving the palace together, and Catherine had volunteered one of her rooms to be used. She had called it a ‘neutral area’, but it just seemed like a reminder of what they had lost.

He hadn’t been in her rooms in years.

“Beatrice,” the Doctor continued, looking up,

“Just Bea, please.”

She tilted her head in acceptance, “Bea. Why did you have such a strong objection to this?”

Bea wriggled slightly. “I had to see therapists when I was in rehab.”

“Bad experience?”

“They just dug around in my head and kept asking questions about Dad that I didn’t want to answer, but they forced me to.”

The Doctor’s brow creased slightly. “That won’t be what this is like, you only have to share what you’re comfortable sharing,” she paused to glance around at them, “all of you.”

“Thank you.” Bea mumbled. “But I do think we should start with the death of your father.”

Phillip looked around at their reactions- Bea was steadfastly looking at a spot on the wall over the Doctor’s shoulder, Catherine was attempting to be open and make eye contact, but the effect was mitigated by the tension in her shoulders, and Henry was the only one of them who looked ready to sit through the session. Apparently having individual therapy helped as a preparation for family therapy.

He thought the Doctor might have drawn the same conclusions because she turned to Henry first, “How did you see everyone else’s reactions?”

“Mum pulled away,” he began, quiet but strong, “Phillip was on the other side of the world anyway, but he seemed to think he needed to take over, and Bea became addicted to cocaine.”

She nodded, “It was cancer, yes? So you knew it was coming?”

“That didn’t make it easier,” Catherine objected.

“No, not at all.” She paused, setting her pen down. “In some ways that actually makes it harder, the feeling that you could have saved him in some way or the feelings you get from watching him wither away are ones that you don’t get if people die in sudden and unexpected ways.”

Catherine relaxed back in her seat, frowning down at her hands, as if considering the Doctor’s words.

“So, Henry, you didn’t tell us how you reacted to your father’s death.”

Henry froze, obviously not expecting that question, “I saw everyone else’s reactions.”

“And you lived your own.”

“I guess I just pushed myself to be perfect.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “I’m seeing some similarities here in your reactions: both Catherine and Bea pulled away from reality while Phillip and Henry tried to control what they could.”

“I didn’t pull away!” Bea objected, “I was always there for Henry.”

“Except for the time that you forced him to track you down and talk you into going to rehab.” Phillip found himself firing back.

Bea paused, eyes wide, and then turned to Henry as if she had just had an enormous realisation. “I’m sorry.” She whispered, “I never thought…”

“That’s why we’re here.” The Doctor pointed out gently. “To think about each other.”

Bea nodded, but she was still watching Henry, unsure of his reaction. The Doctor let her for a few moments before moving on.

“You also said that Phillip seemed to think he needed to take over, Phillip do you think that’s an accurate perception?”

“Yes.”

They were obviously all waiting for him to say more, but the words were half forming inside his head and leaving again.

“Alright, why did you take over?”

He paused, remembering the days after his father had died, when their mother had pulled away and refused to leave her rooms and the Queen had dragged him into her position, filling his head with finances and rules.

“Gran said that Mum broke a rule.” He began hesitantly. “She married someone the crown did not approve of.”

He heard his mother’s slightly horrified gasp before she spoke.

“Are you saying she said his death was a punishment for breaking a rule?”

Phillip looked down at the carpet, willing the Doctor to ask another question or change the subject. She didn’t.

“Yes,” he heard himself reply, as if from a distance, “that’s what she implied, she said if I ever broke a rule, things like that would happen to me, and cancer can be genetic so I thought…” he trailed off, the words getting stuck in his throat, but Bea filled in the rest for him.

“You thought me or Henry would die if you stepped out.”

He risked looking up, expecting to be mocked for his stupid ideas, but all he saw was Henry, looking at him like he finally saw him through the façade he always put up.

“And you thought if we stepped out of line, something bad would happen too?” Bea asked, Phillip looked at her and saw the same understanding that had been in Henry’s eyes.

“And something did go wrong.” Henry said, quiet, hushed. “The emails.”

“I just wanted to protect you.” He found himself whispering back. “I’m sorry.”

[whirlybirbs]

✧   —  THE DARK HAS COME.   ;

summary: the time has come. the shift has come. maul readies your exit from mandalore. (a tie in with my other fic of emancipation and trust, set a year after — set during s7e10)

pairing: maul x ex-servant!reader

a/n: i keep thinking about how our king SNATCHED this weeks episode by the throat. here’s some light angst. if you’re confused, give of emancipation and trust a read to catch up on these two’s relationship.

Things are changing.

Maul knows it.

It’s like a feeling that clouds the air; a chill that settles deep in his bones. It’s like a feeling of lead in the pit of his gut, or the prick of anxiety across his skin. 

The danger that hangs heavily in moments like this is the unknown — what happens next is not set in stone. If anything, it’s simply a feeling riding on the wind. One wrong move will tip the balance, sending the future cascading towards an outcome as unclear as the feeling in the back of his mind. 

You’re angry with him.

Understandably. 

You’re not stupid — you know there are larger things falling into place; and you know enough to know it’s dangerous to be tied so tenderly to the Mandalore. 

It’s your devotion to the Zabrak that has you snarling as you load a trunk of your belongings into the small Allanar class freighter on the transport deck. Anger rolls off you like a lava flow, biting at his senses through the force. It hurts to stand so close. It burns.

Maul, with his hands behind his back, opens his mouth to speak as you pass.

“I do not wish to speak to you,” you snap without sparing him a single glance, “Because I will say something I regret.”

Beside Maul, to the sides of the deck, Rook and Saxon shift tightly in their boots. Even the Mandalorians, his two closest Lieutenants, know better than to step in and aid you in the effort of moving your few belongings onto the ship. 

Lest you be patronized. 

“Sweet one —”

“Are you hard of hearing?”

Maul exhales tightly through his nose. You bend, gather up one last trunk, and haul to towards the loading ramp of the jet black freighter. 

In moment likes these, he wonders when you’d picked up on his biting unkindness. Perhaps it was the product of months spent together — an intimate understanding of one another. Surely, he’d picked up on your mannerisms as well. Patience, mostly. 

A thing he’s attempting now.

With one wave of a gloved hand, Saxon and Rook are dismissed. 

It’s with immense relief that the two nod, pardoning themselves from the long balcony and press through the stained glass doors towards the West wing of the Sundari Palace. The sunset casts a golden hue across the side of the palace, painting the sky colors he once found himself marveling. 

Not now. No. Now, as night creeps in along the horizon, Maul only sees foreshadowing. 

You set down the last trunk with a heavy thud. 

With that, your home and your place within the Sundari Palace has been upped and moved.

All you can do is stand there and stare.

Your eyes are turned up to the palace, and Maul realizes now that your anger has melted away — traded in for grief. Loss. Fear. Mourning. Tepid and slippery. It flits about your spirit, hiding in the homes of your heart. 

He notes the glimmer of melancholy gather in your eyes. It makes his soul ache.

Maul sighs.

“Come here.”

Your eyes land on him as your chin wobbles — and suddenly, Maul understands. As easy as breathing, he understands the hesitation. He understands the loss. He understands you don’t want to leave.

You don’t want to leave him. 

“I.. I could stay,” you whisper as you near, a hand finding his; one last plead, “You’ve taught me how to fight —”

“Yet, this fight is not yours, sweet one,” it’s soft, “You know that.”

His eyes, golden as the setting sun, flick across your face. Your gaze is still stuck on the grand visage of the palace in the setting sun. 

“I feel like a coward,” you whisper bitterly, “Running. While the others prepare for what’s to come. While you prepare.”

“If Kenobi does come,” Maul speaks slowly as his eyes tether themselves to your snarling look, “And if he brings Skywalker... I need you to understand —”

A hand reaching for your cheek draws you to him. 

“Ensuring your safety is the most important part to all this.”

You swallow the lump in your throat as your gaze drifts back to the palace.

“This, too, will pass,” Maul rumbles, “And when it does, I will join you — and we will begin again...”

You nod slowly. You understand. 

In a horrible way, you know this is how this all must play out. This is his battle — this is the darkness of the force rising up to greet him like an old friend. The shift in the balance comes and he is ready with a steady hand to see to it that the outcome is survivable. 

The complexities are lost to you. For now. 

He’d kept them quite hush. 

“... Until then, Crimson Dawn is yours.”

Your head snaps back to him. 

His expression is kind.

“... What?”

Your voice nearly gets stuck in your throat at the sheer shock. Immediately, your eyes are jumping around the Zabrak’s face to find any source of humor — though as rare as it is anyways. You find nothing. Just even-toned gentilty as his hand lifts to brush the curve of your elbow.

“Dryden Vos has extended his hospitailty — and while staying with him, you will serve as the syndicate’s leader in my absense...”

“Maul...”

“Don’t argue with me,” he says with a warm sort of amusement, “The pieces are already moving into place —”

“I can’t do this — not without you.”

“Yes, you can. You have. I have said it before — do not discredit your intituion. You’re dangerous. Cunning. Fit for the role. I trust you more than any other... This is why I need you safe.”

There’s a hesitation as his words trail off.

“I need you safe,” he picks the words back up again, tone softer now, “So I need not worry.”

You exhale; and you move to reach and find his waist. The look you both share is sad. The look of two lovers about to be pulled apart and thrown into the darkness. Things are changing. You’d rather ride out the change by his side, but...

It’s not possible.

You press your nose to his shoulder as his hands sweep up your back in time. Lashes flutter gently as you shake your head. The Palace looms over his shoulder, feeling colder now than it did moments ago. Hollow. Changing.

“I don’t like this.”

It’s a whisper. Scared. Quiet. Like the woman he once spoke with all those moons ago on Zanbar.

“Nor do I,” he mumbles, “But promise me that you will keep your head down. No matter what occurs here in the coming weeks.”

A slow nod. Maul’s hands find your cheeks as you lean back.

You exhale tightly through your nose. 

“I will.”

“Rook will escort you to Vos’ ship,” Maul rumbles, “It’s a yacht. I have been assured it will be terribly comfortable —”

“It’d be better if you were coming with me.”

The kiss that is placed against your brow is gentle. The Sith sighs. 

“Soon.”

“... You don’t know when, then?”

Maul rolls his jaw. Then, he shakes his head. You’ve stuck a pin in his dodging. And while he’d give anything to reassure you — he knows he cannot. There is nothing promised in the rise of the Dark.

Still standing close, you rest your hands flat to his sides as you speak. You try your best to sport a confident tone, but it bleeds with loneliness and heartache.

 “Then, I’ll count the hours. And when you do return to me, I’ll simply not let you leave my side for double as long as you take.”

The laugh he gives is tipped with remorse.

“Incentivizing my absence?”

“No,” you mumble, “Trying to make it bearable.”

Silence slips between you. It makes a home. You wonder if this is how it will be — quiet and cold and lonely. Worry and anxiety will occupy the space in your bed where he sleeps. It’s different. New. 

You part with a kiss — one that pulls at his heartstrings and makes him wish away all the things to come.

“I love you.”

You can’t help the way you wince when the words slip from his lips.

You linger, pulled away as you watch Rook emerge from the Palace — his hand is still in yours. You squeeze.

“I love you, too.”

Things are changing.

And that’s the last time you see the Maul for months.

[seokiloquy]

Green or Gold - Sakusa Kiyoomi

AU: Royal + Butler

Requested (I had a Butler Sakusa idea in my head so I'm happy that he was requested)

Tags/Warnings: GN! Reader,

Word Count: 13.1k+

“Drat, where is that child? (Y/N)! Your parents request your presence! (Y/N)!”

The poor butler ran around the palace gardens, desperately searching for the young royal through the shrubbery. His white gloves tore as they got caught on the thorns of rose bushes. He sneezed as the pollen got in his nose, mentally cursing the active 4, going on 5, year-old for making him run around without his mask.

“Snip.”

The butler’s dark curls bounced as he looked up. His son, age 7, carried a single-handed clipper in his two hands and chopped off the odd twig and branch that stuck out of the rose bush’s neat shape. The young boy kept his eyes on the pants, meticulously trimming as he sniffed underneath his mask.

The butler, Daiki, sighed. “Kiyoomi, have you seen the young royal?”

The boy paused for a moment, eyes shifting to the side before shaking his head silently. The older man whined.

“That rascal. The king will very well take my head if I don’t find his kid soon.”

The small Sakusa giggled quietly into his mask. His father leaned down to peck his head before standing straight and flicking the sleeves of his suit jacket and running off. Beckoning calls for the young royal followed him.

A small rustle was heard overhead, causing Kiyoomi to look up at the pink petals of the garden’s only cherry blossom tree. Within the bloom, a pair of small legs swung in time to airy giggles.

“Your Highness, you shouldn’t be hiding from the king.”

Your voice chirped like the birds that hopped cautiously around you. “I’m not hiding!” Kiyoomi tilted his head up just in time to see the birds fly off at your little screech. “I’m just not being found.” You let out small harrumphs as you tried to step your leg onto the nearest branch.

The small leaves at the end of the branch rustled as your weight was added. “Ah, how did—?”

Kiyoomi watched your head swivel wildly as you look for your next step. “How did you even climb up there?” Setting down the clippers he came to stand beneath you.

“I,” your bottom lip jutted out, and your brows pinched, “I don’t know! Help me!”

The curly-haired boy sighed into his mask, before pulling it beneath his chin. The pollen, though bothersome, could be dealt with easily. He reached his arms up as high as he was able. “Jump.”

“Jump? That’s scary.” You hugged the tree trunk a little tighter. The bark scratched the expensive material of your sleeves. Looking closer, Kiyoomi could see little tears and stains everywhere.

He sighed. “You don’t have to be afraid of falling.” Seeing you hesitate, he turned to the rose bush, snipping the stems of one of the flowers. Breaking off the thorns, he raised his arm to present you with the bright red rose. “I’ll even give you this flower when you jump down. Don't worry, I’ll be here to catch you.”

“Will you? Forever?” Your hands shifted to let you sit on the shaky branch.

“Forever. Now jump.” 

“Now, unlike the king and queen, your position doesn’t hold any power in the legal sense. Many people look your way for social etiquette, fashion, and overall trends,” your tutor drawled on, scratching a small piece of chalk against the dusty mobile blackboard. 

The palm of your hand felt warm and plush against your cheek, but the wood table underneath your elbow was not. Your eyes wandered over the tall book filled wall of the library and the ornate carvings on every available surface. The lateral light bathed every detail in a cool glow. An armless statue peaked over your teacher’s board, glaring. You were about to pay attention when a soft rolling sound hit the back of your head and echoed through the giant library. You turned.

Kiyoomi, your ever stoic personal butler, silently wiped down the surfaces of shelves and the covers of books while standing perfectly straight on an inclined rolling ladder. You pinched your lips between your teeth, trying to stop the pointed smile that was inching its way onto your face.

You spun in your seat. “Now, as you turn 19 your participation in such events will skyrocket—” You pressed your left hand into the centre spine of your book, then took your right to pinch the corner of the page. Silently, as your teacher’s back was turned, you ripped the page out. Jotting a quick note onto the lines of the page, you eagerly crumpled the sheet into a ball and turned. 

Pulling your good arm back, you send the paper ball through the air and into the back of Kiyoomi’s head. 

Kiyoomi, raised in the family that had been by yours for generations, had taken up the very position his parents had been in for decades prior. While his father remained the best friend and right-hand butler to the king, and his mother the same for the queen, Kiyoomi had taken his position by your side. He was the one put in charge of cleaning up your messes and mistakes, all while suffering through the spring as his allergies began to pick up with dust and pollen flying around. 

His diligence to his job sometimes pulled him out of focus, eyes and mind frozen on the task at hand until there wasn’t a speck of dirt to be seen. It left him forgetting that, while he always had a job to do wherever he went, he was always in your presence.

The ball of crumpled paper never made contact with the skin on the back of his head. Instead, bouncing off his dark, cheek length, curls and hitting the floor beneath his feet. He blinked for a moment. When he turned his head around to find the source of the paper ball, he was immediately swept up like a relaxed dust bunny under a bed at the sight of your conniving smirk directed his way. 

Your hand flicked and brows raised in a pissy manner, gesturing to the white ball on the floor. 

You watched attentively as Kiyoomi stepped down from the ladder and picked up the balled paper. Your heart rate picked up as he stood straight, and you smiled. 

“Now, what I’m drawing here is the formal wear that you’ll be expected to wear—”

He tossed it into the trash.

You gasped.

“Yes, very exciting. Beautifully crafted.”

You spun around again, repeating the process, and tossing the paper back Kiyoomi’s way. You could hear him grumble before tossing your second note into the trash.

Again, and again, he never read the damn notes. You threw another one just as he was turning around. It crunched a bit as his fingers curled around it.

“Always introduce yourself to the host—”

He threw it. You ducked, and it hit the chalkboard, right where your old teacher’s hand was about to write.

“(Y/N), balls don’t actually have balls in them, not even paper ones. Please, pay attention.” 

Your shoulders hiked up as you took in a breath to protest. Only to be met with a light smack at the back of your head.

Kiyoomi sneezed into his mask as he worked on the rose bushes.

“We can go inside, I just wanted to get some sun for a bit, so if your allergies are picking up—”

“It’s fine, I got work to do anyway.”

You huffed, kicking your shoe along the surface of the grass as you hobbled over to the blooming cherry blossom tree. You jumped up to grab a hold of its lowest branch, swinging gently.

The calm wind felt nice washing over the layers of your clothes. You listened to the little petals rustle above your head as you watched the butler delicately pluck away stray leaves. The navy colour of his uniform stood out in the sunlight. He glanced over his shoulder, catching you staring briefly before you turned your head away.

“Hmm, want to go into town later?”

“You're not allowed outside of the palace grounds right now.”

“When have rules ever stopped me?”

“Evidently, less than they should.” He paused for a moment, letting his arms fall from clipping and turning your way. “Do you ever plan to get serious? Actually fit the role of a royal.”

You let go of the thick branch, falling onto your feet and hissing as the small scrapes in your palms. “Well ya, of course.” He watched your playful smirk drop, making his stomach sink with it. “But look at us Yoomi. Someone’s gotta try and have fun while we can. You’re always trying to take care of my messes.”

“If you stopped making messes we could have fun.”

You didn’t respond, causing Kiyoomi to look away from the view of the gardens. Head tilted down and sideways against the tree’s trunk, your eyes drooped, staring at the grass beneath your feet. “I just—”

“Your Highness!”

Your head turned, shooting up to find the maid that was carrying the weight of her skirt as she ran. 

“Your Highness, the King wishes to speak with you.”

Kiyoomi watched your lips purse, annoyed at being interrupted before your expression completely changed to a kind one. You looked his way, giving a slight nod as you pushed yourself off the tree and padded dirt off your garment. “I best be going then. Thank you, Lydia.”

Lydia panted, hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath.

“Any idea what it may be about?” he asked.

Idle gossip, though looked down upon, typically came from truths and kept the staff informed on what to be mentally prepared for.

The maid sucked in a large helping of air. “Not too sure, but my guess would be a ball.”

“A ball?” A wave of nerves tickled the back of Kiyoomi’s neck. For what? He wasn’t sure.

“Well yes, it’s common to hold an event for the 19th birthday for a member of the royal family.” She paused, sucking in more air.

“Ah, that—”

“Got to find a suitable spouse, of course.”

The tingles on his neck fizzed out, sending a cold wave of discomfort through his body. He choked on his sentence, coughing harshly.

“Is the allergy acting up? Might want to put your mask back on.”

Through his fit of coughs, he brushed his hair back while pulling the mask over his nose. Between the sharp exhales, he managed to choke out a couple of words.

“Damn it.”

Dinner was quiet. On a large, elongated table, the three royals sat far apart. King (L/N), took his place at the head of the table, on a large seat with an ornate backrest with blood-red fabric and gold detailing. The queen, almost oblivious to the tension carried on eating at the opposite end of the table, on her own special chair.

Kiyoomi stood against the wall behind your small decorative chair, watching as you slowly picked at the food in front of you. An unsettling feeling made a home in his stomach. He sent side glances to his parents, who took position behind their respective royal. They looked concerned but not confused. They knew. His father bit his lip slightly when Kiyoomi made eye contact with him. 

Taking in a deep breath, he turned back to studying your hunched posture, watching your decorated fingers reach blindly for your glass. Likely some sort of tea.

“(Y/N).”

You jumped, your hand pulling back too quickly and effectively spilling your drink all over your fresh pair of dress pants. “Shit!”

“Language,” your mother laughed.

Kiyoomi rushed to your side, towel-cloth in hand. Taking a knee beside your chair, he began to pat against your soaked thigh with the towel, hoping to soak in as much of the spilled drink as possible. His focus wavered. Now closer, he could see your hands clench under the table. He frowned slightly.

Your closest hand reached for his under the table cloth and he moved to clean the floor next, pulling it onto your now dry knee. He looked up at you, hoping to get some sort of response to his silent question. 

You stared at his gloved hand in yours, watching how his long fingers completely enveloped your hand and covered the bulky rings you wore.

Kiyoomi was made to choke silently as you shifted to weave your fingers between his own, squeezing tightly. He was thankful to still be soaking up the liquid on the floor, worried that without his mask on that the adults in the room would take notice of the sudden heat in his cheeks.

“Sorry,” you knew he hated germs, but for the moment he couldn’t quite care. The warmth of your hand in his was enough to quell any germaphobic tendency. “But thanks.”

He squeezed your hand a little tighter, separating his lips to respond.

“(Y/N), we must speak of your birthday.”

Right, your birthday. The young Sakusa’s stomach dropped. Were you going to be put up for marriage? Buy yourself a spouse, or worse be bought as one? His heart rate picked up.

Shit, shit, shit. 

He wanted to say something to you, but it wasn’t his place. Standing to his feet, he brushed his thumb along the back of yours, ready to separate your hands. You reciprocated the movement but quickly held his hand tighter.

He froze, holding his position on the floor next to your chair. Setting the towel down for a moment he held your hand between his, then let go. Kiyoomi grabbed the towel, stood up, and began soaking up the tea from the tablecloth. 

“We, of course, will be holding a ball. And On top of celebrating your birthday, we hope that you’ll be able to find a partner among the guests.”

A jolt shot up Kiyoomi’s spine. Not just from the sudden confirmation of the rumours, but also the light pull on his pants as you took hold of the fabric behind his knee, pinching it desperately. He searched your face for an emotion other than desperation. Not saying a word, he straightened his knee against your fingers, permitting you to hold a little tighter.

Your mother spoke up,  “We wanted your input on the theme and such, it is your birthday,” she emphasized the word sending a poignant look towards your father, “after all.”

The palm of your hand pressed against his knee for a moment. Fingers pushing through the slick fabric to squeeze his skin gently. He finished soaking up the tea quickly, having to leave your side and face your parent’s questioning gazes alone. He stepped back, making your hand drop. You paused for a moment, taking in a slow breath.

Once back in his position against the wall, one of the working maids rushed over, swapping his damp cloth for a clean one, before running back into the kitchen. His parent’s concerned gazes continued.

“How about a masquerade? And maybe theme it like a night under the stars?” Your hands, now separated from your usual companion, ringed together anxiously. Your teeth felt sharp against the inside of your cheek. “But does it really have to be some sort of spousal search? Is me getting married that big of a deal right now? I’m barely 19 yet.”

“Your father and I started courting at 18, and Kiyoomi’s parents it was 20, isn't that right Ichika?”

Kiyoomi’s mother hummed, “Ya that’s about right.”

Not helping, mother.

The queen spoke up again, “are you sure you want a masquerade? How will you know what people look like?”

You paused for a moment, fiddling with your favourite silver ring out of the gaudy bunch that were given to you by your parents. The simple band spun around your finger. A gift from Ichika on your last birthday. 

“The anonymity will help me get to know their personality rather than just judge based on their appearance, no?”

The king hummed, “Not a bad idea, but if that’s the purpose, you better find a suitable partner among them.”

Your heart felt heavy. “Yes, of course.”

“Ooh!” your mother sat straight in her seat. Nearly bounding. “How about a three-day event?”

You looked horrified. You felt it too. “Three days? Mom, that’s—”

“Wonderful idea! That’ll be enough time for you to find a spouse. I’ll go write the letters.”

“Wait but-”

Mr. Sakusa followed him out the door with a surprised look.

“I’ll go figure out decorations! Ichika, your assistance please?”

“Of course.”

You were left standing in front of your chair, mouth open like a fish waiting for food. Your hands shook mid-air. “What just happened?” You turned to face your personal butler.

Kiyoomi looked just as frazzled, shrugging at you.

Kiyoomi switched the fitted sheets as you sat on the windowsill of your room. The moon was half full and letting off a dim blue light. You fiddled with the solid band on your finger while studying the stars.

Kiyoomi had finished fluffing the last pillow when you finally spoke up. “We never did get to go visit the town.” 

Standing straighter, he walked to your side and wiped the empty surface of the window sill before sitting down in front of you. “I suppose we didn’t.”

Keeping your head in the same position, you flicked your gaze over to the older man. The blue light made the highlights of his hair look purple. It sharpened his cheekbones and made his old butler’s uniform his regal. The two moles above his right brow pulled your attention back to his eyes.

“Will we be able to?” You looked up again, not seeing his head shift your way.

“What do you mean?”

“Like, forget my birthday ball. I want to be able to have fun, run around and be free. I want to spend more time with you.”

“You already spend all your time with me.”

He wasn’t sure if it was the moonlight or just his imagination, but he could see tears begin to build up in your eyes. You sniffed, meeting his eyes. “I want to keep it that way.”

You listened to the fabric of Kiyoomi’s pants slide against the surface of your windowsill. Watching as he reached to hold your hand, he sucked in a deep breath, chest expanding and pushing against the tight fabric of his vest.

“Forever, right?”

“Yes, forever.” His thumb ran over your rings, settling onto the flat band his mother gave you.

“Even if I get married?”

The cogs turned in his head, imagining up hundreds of scenarios at once, trying to paint the most ideal outcome. He breathed again, nearly choking on the dust that flew around your room. One second, and another. You waited desperately for his response.

“Especially if you get married.”

A knock broke out at the door, “Incoming!”

Kiyoomi strategically rose to his feet dropping your hand quickly despite the fleeting tug you gave his fingers. He heard you sniff again, and wipe your tears away, not that they’d be visible in the dark.

The queen and her best friend. “Ah Kiyoomi, you are here. Could you help Ichika with decorations and accessories?”

Kiyoomi nodded, quickly heading for the door to leave with his mother. 

“Accessories?” You moved to stand, only to be shushed down by your mother.

“For the staff, of course.” She sent a wink Ichika’s way. Before the maid closed the door. she gave a nod and smile.

“You’re really going in on the masquerade thing, huh?”

The two of you sat alone, bathed in moonlight.

“I think it’ll be a great opportunity.” She patted your shoulder. “Alright, you should sleep. I got work to do.”

“What kind of work.” You stood up with her, pacing to your bed as she went for the door.

“Oh, just something. Rest up!”

Tailors had woken you up, knocking loudly against your bedroom door. They barged in, pulled you out from out of your covers while you were in a groggy state and had you stand.

Your mother came in a bit later, a new fancy dress hanging off her shoulders.

You yawned. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Well, all the guests are arriving tomorrow and we need your clothes done.”

One of the tailors put the end of the measuring tape to your waist, pulling it down to your ankle and calling out a number to the one with a pen and clipboard in hand.

“Shouldn’t clothes be made ahead of time? Not the day before guests arrive.” You yawned again, looking around the busy room as you tried to find a missing body among them. “Here’s Yoomi?”

“Ah, Yoomi? He’s, uh, helping Ichika and Daiki with organizing everything. They’ve got a lot on their plates, you know. Speaking off, I should go check up on the progress.” 

You sighed as the head tailor lifted your arm up.

Later on, once you finally managed to escape fittings, you ran down to the main ballroom where most of the castle’s staff had been. The ornate chandelier had strings of sparkling lights meticulously streaming off it to tie to the walls. The typically red curtains had been swapped out with midnight blue ones, tied back to let the natural light in, and later give a view of the stars.

You found Ichika in the centre, clipboard in hand as she directed the positioning of tables around the back wall.

“Ichika!” You ran over, nearly tripping over unhung decorations. “Have you seen Yoomi? He wasn’t here when I woke up this morning.”

“Ah, Kiyoomi? I have him helping pick out plates and utensils as Daiki is organizing the menu.”

You gasped out a thank you, before sprinting towards the kitchens. You passed by various staff on the way there, doing your best to weave through them as you ran through the hall. A trip happened here or there, but you managed to get to the kitchens without a catastrophe occurring.

Cooks ran around the kitchen, various samples in hand.

“Yoomi!”

He stood at the other end of the room, sleeves rolled up as he inspected the beautifully handcrafted plates in front of him. 

Despite the lack of breath, you ran again.

“Yoo—ACK!”

You liked tea, you did. Especially on a cold day, where you could sit in the library and read while Kiyoomi took a break and sat with you. A book with a wandering knight with the power of the moon, any book. Lemon, chamomile, all the soft flavours that were never too harsh for your throat.

You loved tea, just not on your body.

“Hot, hot, hot.”

The cook was quick to calmly apologize, brushing his dark silver bangs off his forehead as he handed you a towel to dry your chest with. It wasn’t his fault, not that he seemed all that worried.

“You clumsy fool.” The wavy-haired butler had come to your side before you even noticed. He took the towel out of your hand and began slowly dabbing at your collarbone, leaving you standing awkwardly with a racing heart (Likely from all the running). “It doesn’t burn does it?”

“Only as much as hot water. Just got shocked.”

“Good.” He pulled the towel back, examining the stain. “You should go change, that shirt should get washed.”

“But I ran all the way down here to spend time with you. I’ve been locked up in my room all day,” you whined pitifully, stomping your heel against the tiled floor.

He didn’t meet your eyes, instead choosing to look at the shuffling feet of the nearest chook as they fed his father samples of the proposed meals. “It’s alright, we’ll have time to hang out later.”

Hands on your shoulders, he began walking you towards the kitchen doors. He held you facing forward when you tried to turn around.

“But the guests will be arriving—”

“Later.”

The door closed on your nose, leaving you in the silent hallway alone. You clicked your tongue, looking down at your feet and pressing your head against the door.

“Damn it.”

"Mom, why do I have to wear a mask? They already know it's us," You huffed, adjusting the stiff costume piece on your face.

"For aesthetic purposes. You're the one that wanted a masquerade remember? Now hush, the last family is coming in," she said as he lightly smacked your hands away from your face. "And keep it on."

"But—"

She interrupted. Making your father chuckle next to you.

“Ah, hello, hello. I see you have your masks on! Did the guards treat you nicely?” Your mother cheered, inviting the incoming guests with open arms.

The next royal family that walked through the door wore masks with warm colours, complimenting their blonde hair. You didn’t recognize them with the accessory covering their faces. Standing just a bit shorter than you, the daughter wore a salmon coloured dress to match her mask. Her heels seemed to throw her balance off. 

They were the last family to approach you after all the guests had arrived, and although it was a masquerade, it’s hard to not notice the most overdressed royals in the room. Your father, especially, as he boated a thick blood-red cape that dragged across the floor

You gave the princess a grin and offered her a hand as the four walked over to the food. 

She smiled broadly, maybe a bit nervous, before dragging you into the centre of the dancing pairs. Her short hair, braided on one side and pinned to her head, bounced slightly as you waltzed. 

You're not sure how long you had danced in total, having switched from one partner to the next with no break. You supposed it had to do with the fact that the ultimate goal of this event was to find you a partner. One other than for dancing.

After being whisked away from the blonde princess and into the arms of a flamboyant prince in teal, you were being passed around the guests like they were playing hot potato. Only the loser happened to be you as the balls of your feet began to ache. Now, with the pain becoming tiresome, you swayed limply in the arms of a dark brunette in a dark maroon suit with gold accents.

You looked over the prince’s shoulder, resting your chin on the soft velvet of his suit. He held you a bit tighter, successfully preventing you from falling or tripping on his toes. You watched the staff on hand as they moved gracefully among the guests, offering drinks and snacks away from the back tables. Kiyoomi wasn’t among them.

You sighed into your partner's neck.

“Is everything alright?” His voice was rather deep, harmonizing with the winding down music that the orchestra played. You stumbled onto his toe, he didn’t even seem to notice.

“Oh, yes, sorry about that. Thank you for the dance, but I best get something to eat.”

He bowed. “Of course,” he said, and then went on his merry way.

Finally. Dancing with —for what you could only recognise as— strangers was tiring. And despite it being the majority of your job considering your position as a royal, you couldn’t help but want to limit your social circle to a chosen few. One, to be specific.

Your stomach rumbled as your eyes browsed over the staff. Sighing again at the lack of Kiyoomi in the room, you started walking towards the slowly disappearing food. Your gaze shifted. Despite the dark curtains being pulled open, it almost looked like they weren’t except for the fact that the stars were shining brightly in the sky. You continued to walk, not noticing the tail of one girl's skirt dragging across the floor.

“ACK—”

Something constricted around your wrist, holding your face a few feet above the floor.

“You’ve taken more than a few fumbles this evening. If you need a cane, I’d be honoured to offer my assistance.” The owner of the smooth voice pulled you to your feet, turning you to face him in the process. “Are you alright, Your Highness?”

His top eyelids hug over his iris’ slightly, making his already dark eyes seem darker. They reflected the ballroom’s lights like the stars outside. His mask, midnight blue like the curtains with light gold detailing around the rim and centre, looked like the night sky and covered all but his mouth and eyes. His dark hair was slicked back, looking neat and polished. The mask’s design carried out through his clothes, a three-piece suit with inner soft gold lining and detailing.

You let out a silent gasp at the moon and star cufflinks he wore.

“You were heading for the food right? Let me accompany you.” He offered you an elbow, letting you slip your arm through at your own accord.

His chivalry felt near fictional. With your eyes still zeroed in on his profile, your mind began to wander into the depths of stories you’ve read.

“You look like a prince.” The words seemed to slip out of you unconsciously.

“Aren’t all the guests here royals?” He smirked, giving a side-eye glance to all the other people in the room.

You laughed lightly, embarrassed by your own mistake. He grinned with you. “You’re right. I just, I don’t think anyone looks as fantastical as you do.”

“Fantastical?” He grabbed a small plate from the table, using the tongs to place various treats on it and handing the plate to you. He didn’t seem to think about which ones you’d like, not that he had to, they were all your favourite. He reached for his own as you took a bit out of a small pastry. “Have you been reading too many fantasy novels?” 

A knight? The memory of a dark cloaked saviour in the dead of night popped into your brain. You chuckled. “Possibly.” You faced the large crowd again, searching.

“Looking for something?” 

“Huh,” you blanked. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just a bit tired. I’m never around so many people at once.”

Plate in hand, he stood straighter offering his arm again. “Would you like to step outside? I saw a nice place to sit in the gardens.” He saw your hesitant glance at the crowd. “They won’t even notice you’re gone, and if you’re worried about me, there are guards at every corner. I wouldn’t dare harm you, Your Highness.”

Though trying to weave through the crowd was difficult, the fresh cool air that rushed into your lungs once you made it outside was worth it. The prince guided you to a bench in the centre of the circular rose-bush, nodding politely at guards as you walked by. You laughed happily as the cherry blossoms went over your head.

You sat down on the bench, stretching your tired legs and back. Standing, and dancing, for hours on end did a number on you, him as well. That masked prince’s clothes blended nicely with the surroundings, looking like a piece of the night sky had fallen to keep you company.

He stretched, raising one arm above his head while the other continued to carry his plate, before taking a seat beside you.

“It’s a lovely garden,” he hummed, watching you take a bit from the plate of food in your hand.

You chewed quickly before swallowing, licking your lip to get rid of leftover crumbs. “It’s one of my favourite places in the castle, along with the library. I spend so much time here my friend has taken it upon himself to keep the rose bushing in top shape. It’s not even his job.”

“Your friend?” he prompted. The gentle tone of his voice told you that he wanted to listen.

A slow sigh rolled off your shoulders. “My butler. Haven’t had the chance to make many other friends than him. He's always by my side.”

“You seem to enjoy his company at least.”

You laughed. “I do. Can’t throw away my only friend, and he can’t escape me either; it’s his job.”

The prince let out a sharp laugh, a bit louder than you expected. The embarrassed look in his eye from making such a loud sound made you laugh along with him.

He took a deep breath, leaning against the bench’s back-rest and throwing his head back. “I have a friend like that.”

“Really?” You rested your arm against the back of the bench, holding your head up as you studied the prince’s mask and listened.

He hummed. “Growing up isolated in a castle isn’t fun, but having someone there for you makes it better. Even if it wasn’t their choice.”

“I guess all royals have some similar experiences huh.”

“I suppose, but we all have slightly different expectations and backgrounds, live in different cities and towns. Each is unique in their own way.”

“What's your town like?”

He turned his head your way, mouth open. His eyes flicked to look up at the cherry blossoms, before coming down to meet your eyes. You didn’t realize how close you had been sitting.

Your propped up elbow rested nearly behind his relaxed head, and his shoulder pressed into your arm. He maintained eye contact as he sat up, taking your plate in his hand and setting them both on the end of the bench. He blinked slowly.

“I— I don’t really know. Thinking about it now, it seems that I’ve only ever gone through but never to visit.” He laughed at himself.

Pinching your brow, you jumped to your feet. “Let’s go.” You held your hand out to the prince, beckoning him to his feet.

“Go where? Aren’t you tired?”

“Yes, tired of not having fun. I’ve been wanting to go into town with Yoomi for days but haven’t had the chance.”

He placed his hand in yours, allowing you to tuck him onto his feet. “Are you sure—”

“Your Highness.” Lydia stood and the opening of the rose bushes, hands held together. “The guests are heading to their rooms. Your parents are requesting your presence.” She gave the prince next to a confused look. “You best head inside.”

“Ah, wait, Lydia.” You stepped her way slightly. “Have you seen Kiyoomi today?”

Her eyes flickered, and her brow pinched together. “Sorry, I can’t say I have.”

Your shoulders slumped slightly. “Ah, it’s alright. I’ll be in soon.” 

As the maid left, spun on your heel. A rose was presented to you and the hand holding it was attached to the night prince. The view of him in his dark suit surrounded by a giant bouquet of pink was an image that would be ingrained in your mind forever.

He spoke calmly, a joking undertone pushing through. “I hope I don’t have to vie for attention over this Kiyoomi fellow you keep speaking of?”

“Well, he’s definitely not going to like you picking the roses, that’s for sure.”

The prince laughed, coming up from his gentle bow to place the thornless rose in your hand. He smirked beneath the nose of his mask. “I'm trying to woo his friend here. I’m sure he won’t mind.” He then reached for your empty hand, placing it on his elbow, and grabbing the stacked plates. “Let’s head back in.”

You had been spending a lot of time on your windowsill as of late, staring at the moon as it slowly becomes whole. You sat and stared, arms around your knees, as you slumped against the glass. Waiting.

It was long past midnight when you finally decided to return to your bed for some rest. The door opened when you stepped onto your feet.

Your heart swelled.

“Where have you been?” You ran to the door, wide eyed, as you held the curly-haired butler by the shoulders. His uniform matched those of the rest of the staff, new and crisp with celestial accents. “I wanted to spend time with you, but you weren’t there.”

As he spoke, you wiped off a pink stain from his white collar. “Icing, I was working in the kitchen?”

“You can't cook.”

“But I can bake.”

“Right. I’m still mad at you though, I was alone!”

“Really?” He walked over to your clothes that you had hooked onto the wardrobe. He draped the fancy clothing over his arm before walking to the door again. “I heard from Lydia that you snuck off with a mysterious prince.” He smiled lightly, blinking as he met your eyes. “It’s late, get some rest.”

He spoke curtly, pulling the door.

Where was he going; tugging the door without a thought despite you desperately wanting him around. Your heart seized as your hand reached to try to catch the door before he left you in the cold room alone.

“But—”

The door shut.

Why your mother had chosen a lean fitted, sun orange garb for the second day of three, you weren’t sure. Already standing out amongst the other royals for being the host of the party, the vibrance of your clothes seemed near embarrassing. You couldn’t imagine being surrounded by so many people for another day, but it was too late to change plans.

You flicked the large handkerchief over your waiting for everyone to pile into the dining room. Staff had set up two extra tables for the number of guests, having you and your parents sit at the head of separate ones. You looked to the right and watched the king and queen speak happily with the guests sitting closest to them.

Each seat had a name card on them, guiding people to their assigned seats for the midday meal. You couldn’t read the names from your vantage point, but it wasn’t hard to tell that one was missing.

You looked over your shoulder, hoping to find Kiyoomi behind you, standing against the wall. You sighed at the empty space before waving one of the nearest butlers over. Guests continued to slowly find their chairs.

“Bellamy, is there a name tag missing here?”

The butler leaned down to hear your words over the crowd. He tilted his head, making the grey hairs on his head bounce slightly. “I was certain there was one earlier when we were setting the tables. Do you want me to look?”

“No, it’s alright, they’ll find their way here eventually.” He moved to stand straighter. “Oh, and Bellamy? Have you seen Kiyoomi at all today?”

The old man’s eyes widened and back straightened. “Ah, yes, he was helping lay out the cutlery earlier. I believe he and the other head’s are working in the kitchens. Do you want me to get him for you?”

You bit your lip, looking at the rings on your hand as you fiddled with the solid band. “It’s best not to interrupt him, he’s probably working hard. I’ll see him soon.”

“Not talking about me are you? Did I leave that good of an impression?” 

The night prince slid into the unlabeled seat, smiling kindly. He gave a nod to Bellamy. The tails of his coat flicked as he sat down. He wore all black with silver accents, fitting the midnight theme better than you did.

“I was asking about Kiyoomi,” you explained. “This is your seat?”

He grinned, showing off the pearly colour of his teeth in a sharp, thin line. “Trying to get a peek of my name were you, your Highness? That would defeat the purpose of a masquerade wouldn’t it?”

You shivered under his stare as he slid into the seat. “I’ll admit that not knowing your name is turning me into a cat, but I was more concerned about someone not finding their seat.”

“That curiosity will kill you.” You smirked at his anecdotal reply that finished off the little phrase as you reached for your glass of tea. “Besides, any seat next to yours is rightfully mine, so you don’t have to worry about me not finding it.”

You choked on the warm liquid as the plush chair next to you slid back. “Oh my, are you alright? I didn’t mean to frighten you.” It was the blonde princess from yesterday.

A hand held your chin, tilting your head over towards the masked prince. In his other hand held a handkerchief, dabbing the sides of your mouth and chin gently. He looked at the blonde. “Don’t worry princess, they’re just clumsy. Can’t take care of themselves.” His thumb rubbed your cheek before dropping both hands. 

Had Kiyoomi been around he would’ve done the job himself. Gentle brushes, making sure that you would be tidied up and presentable without irritating your skin. He would chuckle at your slip ups and laugh at you in a way that the other staff wouldn’t. Would’ve had be not been avoiding your presence like the plague.

Kiyoomi wasn’t here.

Your heart fluttered as you watched the prince's eyes glitter. Heat washed across your chest and rose to your cheeks. It nearly sent you into another coughing fit. 

Kiyoomi wasn’t, but the prince was.

“Oh thank goodness, I would’ve been killed for scaring a crowned royal to death.”

You finally stopped coughing as entrees were being placed in front of people. “I really don’t think—”

“It could happen! I’d be an outcast, a murderer to the nth degree!”

You laughed. “Princess, please. Just eat.”

As you reached for your fork, something landed on your knee underneath the table. You took a small bite of the prepped meal and lifted the table cloth as you listened to the other two royals talk.

“Have you ever visited the Bahamas, it’s quite lovely.”

The prince's closed hand rested on the orange fabric on your knee, thumb brushing gently. Giving you a side glance, he lifted his hand but kicked his foot out taking your ankle with it. 

Already flustered, you reached over to smack the back of your hand lightly against the prince’s shoulder. He gave you a kind smile in response.

“I can’t say I ever have. I don’t travel unless it’s work matters, and even then I’m typically held up in one building or another.”

Your leg used his ankle as a footrest. Furrowing your brow, you tried to take your leg back, only for the masked prince to place his other one on top of it. You were shackled to the man. You huffed slightly, leaning into the back of the chair as you tried to hide any darkness that had risen to your cheeks. “The most exploration I get is of the town. Like the prince said, even outside of our city, I’m typically restricted to where I can go. I always have Kiyoomi to keep me company though.”

The light on the prince's slicked-back hair glistened as he turned his shoulders more your way, mimicking a similar posture to that the pink princess (now in baby pink) took. “You speak very kindly of your butler. I don't think I’ve seen him around though. What’s he like?”

“Oh please tell.” The blonde smiled, light brown eyes shimmering.

“Huh, well he’s my closest friend of course. I don’t have many in the first place unless you consider the other royals we sometimes visit.” Hitoka and Wakatoshi came to mind suddenly, you haven’t seen either of them in years though. “Those connections aren’t as well built as I would like though. I’m not sure if they’d call me their friend.”

You could see the princess’ eyes darken underneath the cut out of her mask. “I’m sure they do, (Y/N).”

You forgot that the anonymity of the mask didn’t apply to you for a while. You gave her a genuine smile. “Thanks.” 

The hand was on your knee again, brushing it in a calm, soothing manner. You reached for the last bite off the plate, swallowing it down quickly. 

“Well anyways,” you continued, “Kiyoomi is calm, clean, very clean. He’s always by my side unless I don’t want him to be, which isn’t often. He takes care of me in a way my parents can’t since they have to work all the time. He used to read me stories from the library when I was young. I still use the same old chair.” 

You hummed happily and took a sip of your tea as the plates were exchanged for the next course. “I love him a lot.”

The meat looked lovely. You went in for a bite as the hand on your knee pressed into your skin a bit. “I better not have to fight for that affection,” the prince teased.

You only gave with a silent, non-committal, laugh.

After all the food had been eaten (staff taking the place of the full royals to help finish the untouched food) and none was left except for bones, The guests were free to roam and mingle around the castle grounds. Most took it as an opportunity to dance in the ballroom and network amongst the heads of states. Even with the masks, kings and queens could easily tell each other apart.

A hand held your arm back from joining your parents in talking to the blonde princess’ family. The kind smile the price gave you beneath his mask made your stomach flutter again. “You like the library right? Care to show me the best books?”

You tried to choke down an embarrassed yelp as his hand slid down to hold your own. “I’d love to.”

Taking one last second, you looked over your shoulder to the cleaning staff, hoping to find a wavy mop of black hair before you were stolen away.

How this prince managed to take up a vast majority of your time thus far, you didn’t know. Maybe it was the dark hooded eyes that seemed to give people a death stare when they approached, or possibly the lips that seemed stuck in a permanent downturned position.

He seemed to assess the situation of the crowd around him, then turn his attention your way with a small smile. Each expression was minute, letting his posture and words speak for him.

He grabbed a wet wipe from off the librarian’s counter, wiping his hands down as he scoured through the library’s titles. “So, is there anything you’ve been wanting to read?”

“Me? I did finish a book recently but haven’t chosen a new one yet. Anything you recommended?”

He hummed, tilting his head at the book spines, before turning around and speed walking toward the fiction section of the library. It didn’t take long before he wiped his hands again and pulled out a green-covered book from the shelves.

“‘Night Pirate’. Have you read it?”

Standing in the centre of the tall, open room, hands clasped together, you shook your head. “Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure.”

Coming to your side, he placed his open hand between your shoulder blades, turning you in the direction of the old chairs. He sat you down on the large, plush red one, the one you had claimed since you were little, and took his place in the matching dark green one to your right. The one Kiyoomi had started using once you were too big to share a single seat.

He got comfortable quickly, kicking up one ankle to rest on the opposite thigh. “‘To the open waters of the great unknown, a pirate makes home among the fish and mermaids.’” He paused looking up from the first page. “Might as well get comfortable, the book is 500 pages long.”

You followed the suggestion, leaning your head back against the soft velvet backrest and studied the intricate details of his mask, and how his lips parted as he read each word. His hands looked large against the book, carrying it with one hand, no effort required. You noticed the small spots that decorated the back of his palm with a smile. He pinched the book’s read ribbon tucking it away as he continued. His voice, mellow and calm, reflected the atmosphere that the words in the book were trying to paint.

It was five, maybe six pages into the book before your eyes closed, and another three before you had fully dosed off.

You weren’t entirely sure of how you got to bed, but judging by the warm cup of tea and a new set of clothes for the last day, Kiyoomi had been there. You couldn’t let the warm feeling in your chest settle for long though, because within minutes the tea was gone, your outfit was on and you were rushing down to the banquet hall before the quests could beat you to it.

Today, the food was set up in the middle of the ballroom in a large circular table with a multi-layered cake in the centre of it all. The guests swarmed your and your parents as they waited for the knife in your hand to hit the bottom of the cake. Once it did, deafening cheers that made your shoulder’s scrunch, erupted throughout the castle.

Everyone got a slice, you even managed to get a piece for Ichika and Daiki, ensuring that they each got a bit of galaxy coloured icing and fondant stars. 

“Do you like the design? Kiyoomi thought of it, though Osamu did help bake it,” Ichika said.

You looked to the slowly disappearing desert, admiring what was left of the black, blue, purple, and pink layers that got lighter as they reached the top with small star-like details. 

“He knew you wouldn’t want anything too extraordinary. I better save him a piece of his hard work.”

You felt something tap your red-clothed shoulder. “Excuse me, you two, but I hope you don’t mind me stealing (Y/N) away for a bit do you?” You looked to the masked prince, who now wore a dark forest green suit with gold accents. The mask remained the same shape but had a chain hanging from the edge near his right eye down to the right point of the mask near his chin.

Butterflies were already fluttering in your stomach.

Ichika gave the prince a wide smile, elbowing her husband. “Of course, of course. We don’t mind.”

Twisting his feet to point your way, he offered his hooked elbow and waited for your silent permission to escort you away.

“What are you planning?”

“Hmm, not much, a small trip.” His eyes shifted your way as he kept his head angled forward toward the castle's nearest exit. “I heard that the town is having fireworks for your birthday tonight. You’ve been wanting to go, right?”

“Well, yes but— How did you know about that? I haven’t heard anything.”

The corners of his mouth flicked up. “The staff like to talk.”

So there you were, with the princely stranger in dark clothes at your favourite cafe in town, definitely sticking out like a pair of sore thumbs. The obnoxious laughing pouring out of you didn’t help keep eyes off, either.

“What do you mean you bleached the crown?!”

“It was a mistake! Luckily, it wasn’t the real one or else my father would’ve sent me to France to be beheaded,” he sighed, and then noticed your raised brow and slow bite into the puffed sugar cloud with a hard shell. It crackled under the pressure of your teeth. 

“We— well,” he stuttered, “What happened was, I was helping clean the crown case, and the crown gets swapped out with a duplicate so it can get polished. And I accidentally got bleach on the velvet portion.”

He shut his eyes as if replaying the memory, wincing at your laughter. “I knew you’d find that funny.”

“Of course I would, you seem so put together it’s hard to believe you’d make a mistake.”

“I hope that means I’ve made a good impression thus far.” He leaned forward, setting his crossed arms on the table and letting his elbows carry his weight.

You mimicked the movement, letting your chin rest in the palm of one of your hands. You wore a squinted smile. “Not like you would let me get much of an impression about anybody else.”

“Not my fault. No one else was trying hard enough.”

You laughed through your nose as you drank the last few drops of tea. The cup didn’t make a noise as it hit the table again. The waitress, who had been watching idly from behind the counter, rushed over to bring the check and collect the dishes. Her dark hair swished over her shoulder fluidly. You saw her every time you visited.

“Thank you.”

"The sun is going to set," the unnamed prince spoke as he set a bill on the table. "How about we walk through town and look at the shops before the fireworks start."

Your cheeks hurt a bit from smiling. "Sure."

He offered an open hand to you as you got to your feet. Wiping your hands on your legs first, you graciously took his open palm. Pulling you to his side, the prince led you to the cafe's exit waving at the workers as he did.

“Hmm, How about— Woah!”

You pulled his hand, dragging him towards the slowly moving crowd that grouped around the various shops. His hand shifted in yours, twisting so he could fiddle with the ring on your hand with his thumb.

“Your Highness, if you wanted to steal me away, you could've just asked. Of course, I’d have to tell my parents first—”

“That wouldn’t be stealing,” you snorted, dropping his hand. 

You stopped at an accessory store browsing over all the little pieces of jewelry that sat on display, glittering in what was left of the available sunlight.

You jumped as the light near your head flickered on. Hand on your stomach, you played it off by looking for the masked prince among the crowd. Two young boys giggled behind you, running off when you glared their way.

You eventually caught sight of the midnight prince bowing his head to a blonde man who had his hair brushed back and a cigarette balancing on his lip. He appeared to be the shop owner. Soon after he began walking your way, bare hands tucked into his suit pockets. He nudged your side. “Come on, the fireworks will begin soon.”

Slinging your elbow around his, you followed. “What do you do in your typical day anyway?”

He started walking towards the large fountain in the centre of the pavilion. “I typically help the staff where I can. Don’t have many responsibilities as of yet.”

You looked up to the gold chain on his mask, hypnotized by its swaying movement. “As of yet? How old ar—ACK!” The tip of your shoe slammed into a lifted brick, flinging you forward.

“Clumsy, clumsy. Watch where you step, or I'm gonna have a lot of cleaning to do.” 

Your trip luckily didn’t end with your head slamming into the edge of the fountain. Which made you breathe a sigh of relief (wouldn’t be the first time it happened). With his elbow still locked around yours, and hand securely tucked into his pocket, the prince had managed to catch your arms between his and his side before you dove into the concrete.

You huffed, taking your arm back and sitting on the fountain’s ledge. “So, how old are you anyway? I never asked.”

He sat next to you as the first —test— firework went off. “Hmm, 21.”

You hummed. “That makes sense, I would’ve been too young to go to your party. I’m glad that you didn’t find a partner I suppose.”

“My parents are rather lenient. I didn’t want to find someone immediately anyways.”

“I can’t say I did either.”

Two pops went off in the air, pulling your attention to the dark sky. The lights flickered, falling as they did before burning out. The burnt-out fireworks were quickly followed by a slew of others.

“I got you this. From the shop.” From his pocket, he pulled out a small box and flipped it open to present it to you. A muted gold band sat in the slit of the velvet cushion.

“Proposing already? I didn’t think you were so forward.”

Even with the ornate mask on his face, you could see him falter. Eyes darting around as he puffed out some hot air. “Think of it as an offer. Who knows, you might regret it later if you fall in headfirst.”

Your heart felt like it was tearing in two, competing on different teams. But when you met the prince’s hesitant eyes that darted back and forth between your own, it felt like the two sides were coming to an agreement. Your whole body scorched.

The feelings you had would always be there, but what could Kiyoomi do if he wasn't around to reciprocate them, and would your heart be able to take it?

You flushed, staring more intently into the prince’s dark eyes. “I think I've done enough falling as it is.”

Looking at your fingers, you paused, thinking, before pulling the ring out of the box and exchanging it for your beloved gift from Ichika. With no warning, you grabbed the prince’s bare hand and slipped the warm metal onto his ring finger. It stuck at the knuckle for a moment before sliding down to the base. 

You analyzed the hand that now wore your favourite ring. Holding it delicately, you slid your fingers over the few small dark specials that decorated the back of his hand.

No going back now.

“Well, at least it won’t fall off. Don’t lose it okay, that ring is dear to me.” You looked up to his face, watching as the bright fireworks brought out the green of his mask, and saturated his straight slicked-back black hair with shifting iridescence. 

“Does that make me dear to you, as well?”

The fireworks were loud, but your heart was louder. And all you could remember from those few fleeting seconds were the smell of clean clothes and mint toothpaste as your eyes stared into the bleak darkness of your eyelids and the feeling of his lips pressed oh so gently into yours.

Kiyoomi tirelessly worked on the final meal for the departing guests. His shoulders ached as he worked his hands into the bread dough, trying hard not to let any sweat fall off his nose. His curls bounced with each push. He grunted as he flipped the dough over, before yawning.

“Woah there, little Sakusa, what got you all worked up?”

The butler huffed, picking up the large pound of dough and tossing it into the oven. Once the oven started cooking, he made his way over to the sinks, desperately hoping to scrub away the remnants that stuck to his skin.

“Nothing, Bellamy, just trying to get all the bread ready before the guests wake up.”

Daiki entered the kitchen patting down the sides of his suit jacket. “Is there a loaf good to go? The family is awake.”

Kiyoomi cursed quietly, throwing on his signature white cloth gloves and grabbing three plates. Lifting his mask over his nose, he began cutting into one of the loaves.

His father’s brow furrowed as he watched his son rush to cut the bread. He went to collect the condiments from the fridge. “You okay there? You seem a bit stressed.”

“I’m fine, just didn’t sleep until late last night.”

Daiki slathered a large clump of peanut butter on a slice of bread, prepping it for the king’s stomach. 

“Hmm, no sleep? I wonder why that is,” Ichika said in a reading manner, walking in with one of the finished loaves in her gloved hands.

Kiyoomi’s head drooped, hair falling in front of his eyes. His straight arms pressed into the counter, causing his shoulder blades to jut out. Having his parents giggle behind his back, quite obviously, made the pit of anxiety that had been growing in his stomach collapse into a ravine. 

Ichika coughed slightly, transferring away from teasing her son. She reached for fruits to add to the plates. “Bellamy, gather the staff won't you? We need to deliver breakfast to the bedrooms.” She grabbed the plate with jammed covered toast before wrapping her arm around Daiki’s. “The three of us will bring breakfast to the family. Okay?”

“Of course, Mrs. Sakusa. Right away. Lydia, Osamu!”

Kiyoomi tightened the gloves around his fingers, pulling them tighter and keeping them secure. He took a slow breath, trying not to yawn as he did so, before grabbing your plate.

Kiyoomi had woken you up with his eyes squinted in a soft smile. Though you couldn’t see, you could easily picture the smile itself behind the white mask he wore over his mouth. Camomile tea in one hand, and fresh toast in the other, you walked down to the foyer of the castle to meet your parents with Kiyoomi yawning into his mask by your side.

“Tired?”

His eyes squinted in a relaxed smile again. “Ya, but this morning everything will be done, and I can rest.”

You hummed, swallowing your last bite of bread before taking a sip of tea. You began walking down the large steps that took you into the castle’s main entrance. “Why don’t we go to the library to read after they’ve all gone? There’s a book that I recently started, I can read it to you from the beginning.”

“Hmm? Sounds nice. What is it about?”

“A pirate? If I'm being honest I fell asleep, so I don’t remember a whole lot,” you laughed.

Your parents stood by the large double doors, guards on either side as they finished off their tea and handed the dishes off to Daiki and Ichika. “(Y/N) hurry down. The guests will be leaving soon.”

Kiyoomi stood behind you as you shook hands with the leaving guests, desperately wanting to wipe your hands clean between each interaction. He held himself back though, not wanting his germaphobic tendencies or possessiveness take over.

The queen’s head turned your way. “So, did anyone catch your eye?”

The question went unanswered as the last family came your way. You recognized the short dark-brown hair of the tall prince from the first night. He silently took your hand in his, letting out a deep hum as his chin hit the back of your knuckles. You heard your parents thank the father, and seemingly grandmother for visiting before they headed for the door. Guards opened it for them.

Kiyoomi rushed in front of you, taking your hands in his gloved ones and wiping them clean. Maybe he’s let them take over a little. You didn’t seem to notice though, too fixated on the memory of the unnamed prince.

“Was that the last family?” you asked, brows furrowed. 

Your parents' eyes widened. “Were you expecting someone else?”

Kiyoomi’s fingers tightened on yours. Unconsciously, you squeezed back. “There was one. A prince. He had slicked black straight hair. Wore navy colours with metal accents. His mask covered everything but his eyes and mouth.”

Your father hummed before calling for Daiki’s attention. Having been talking quietly to his wife, Daiki and Ichika both shot straight up as the royals turned their way. You sidestepped towards Daiki, letting Kiyoomi join the circle.

“How many guests were on the list.” Your father’s tone was heavy.

“80, your Majesty,” Daiki replied.

“And how many chairs were there total?”

Ichika spoke up, “84.” Her eyes flicked to your mother’s for a moment.

Your father hummed again before calling the nearest guard, a strong looking white-haired man and his red uniform. “Gather the knights, there will be a search for the intruder. And he will be punished for disturbing the safety and peace of the castle.”

You opened your mouth to protest, heart beating painfully at the thought of the man being in danger.

“No!” It was a chorus. It seemed you weren’t the only one. Everyone��s heads turned on swivels at the other’s outbursts.

A puff of hot air blew out of your father’s nose. “What's wrong with all of you? Why not?”

You took the chance to speak before the others could. “I spent plenty of time alone with the, uh, prince. If he wanted to harm me he very well could have.”

“Also,” your mother continued. “Wouldn’t sending out the knights be a bit much? I know they don’t have a lot to do, but that seems overboard.”

Daiki sighed. “Your Majesty. You could ask the guards on watch if anyone has left the grounds since last night. They might still be in the castle.”

The king's posture seemed to slouch. “But what about the knights?” He blinked for a moment before standing straight again. He called for the guard. “Find out if anyone has left since last night. If everyone is accounted for, send the knights through the castle, if not, they go on an expedition.”

The guard only hummed and nodded, before walking off.

Your chest hurt, squeezing tightly around nothing. It felt like you were going to vomit. You lifted your now mostly ringless hand to your mouth in a fist.

“I'm going to write letters to the families, best find out if they’ve seen anything. Daiki?”

The head butler nodded. “Kiyoomi, care to join us? We might need some help.” Daiki gave his son a pointed look and an urgent beckoning wave.

Kiyoomi placed a gloved hand on your back, pushing heat through the fabric of your clothes. He spoke quietly into your ear, dragging down his mask with a hooked finger. “I’ll find you later. Alright? We can read in the library as you said.” 

You looked into his eyes, watching how his lids relaxed, and ten the small pair of moles above his brow. You lowered your clenched hand away from your mouth and nodded.

His hand fell from your spine before he was off, following the fathers up the grand staircase and to the king’s study. Your stomach tightened a bit.

“Is that a new ring?” Your mother slid over with Ichika at her side.

The maid gave a teasing laugh. “I sure hope you didn’t toss my gift away.”

“I wouldn’t say toss.” A cold sweat ran down your neck. “You both seem very put together, aren’t you a bit scared over all this?”

“Not at all, I’m sure everything will be sorted out quickly. But isn’t it fun? It’s like you're experiencing your own fairy tale instead of one in those books.” Your mother teased, taking your hand with the simple gold band and lifting it to her face. She paused. “I don’t recognize this one.” 

“Oh! Did you?” Ichika bounced like a child despite her age. “Oh, you did, didn’t you?”

“Did what? OH!”

Sometimes you forgot that they were best friends. 

“You exchanged rings?!” they both cheered, giving you large smiles.

Your stomach sank more, thinking of how not only did you lose the mysterious prince, but your favourite ring as well. The tightness in your chest continued, and despite it still being the morning; “I’m gonna go lie down.”

You heard your mom chuckle as you tripped on the top step.

You weren’t sure exactly what time it was or how long you had been in your room. But, after stomaching a couple of meals and sitting by the window with a blanket on your shoulders as the sun began to lower with a purple sky following, you could hazard a guess.

A knock vibrated your door. “I’m coming in.”

In a casual white shirt, instead of his authority screaming clothes, your father kept a neutral expression as he sat at the end of your bed. He weaved his fingers together and pushed his bottom lip up in a perturbed pout.

It was silent for a moment.

“So, did you finish the letters?”

“Hmm? Oh, ya. Ya, we did. Had to rewrite them all, but we finished them.”

You sat straighter. “Re-write? Why?”

He hummed shutting his eyes as if replaying a memory before looking up at the moon through the large window. He scratched his neck, mumbling quietly, “We found out who the prince was.”

“You did? Where—?” You nearly shot to your feet. Your heart pumped in your ears and hands began to clam up as they gripped the blanket. If they found out then he must be nearby.

“Calm down.” He clicked his tongue, moving his hand from the back of his neck to his forehead, rubbing away a dull headache. “No reason to get worked up about it right now. I still got to grill the guy.”

The growl that took over the end of his sentence was menacing, like a rabid wolf with a chunk of meat being teased in front of his snout. Your shoulders curled at the sound, imagining the fire that the prince would have to walk though under your fathers scrutiny.

“Please don’t.” If your father was that put out by the man’s identity, you couldn’t help but feel overly curious. Sometimes cats really do need to sedate their curiosity. 

Your father let out a deep chuckle before rising to his feet. He walked to your side and placed a large hand on your blanket-covered shoulder, patting it slightly. “There's no need to get worked up about it. Get some sleep; you’ve had a long few days.” 

As he walked to leave, you began to climb to your feet, following after. Something tickled the back of your brain at your fathers demeanor, but you hadn’t gotten any answers “Wait but—!”

“Get some rest, (Y/N).”  He pulled the door a bit before pausing, giving you a tired and rugged smile. “You have nothing to worry about.”

The door closed behind him.

Despite everything that had happened, the three day party, your 19th birthday, a charming prince that had somehow swept you off your feet, all you wanted was to talk to your best friend. It felt like forever since you were last able to lean on his shoulder.

Maybe tomorrow. You looked at the gold band on your finger, heart swelling as your mind shifted. 

You’d search for your friend tomorrow.

Kiyoomi wasn’t there to wake you up the following morning. Only a cup of lemon tea sitting on a dust-free side table, and a clean poet shirt with black slacks, were left to prove his presence in your room at some point.

You yawned, stretching your arms as high as they could go before grabbing hold of the cup’s handle and taking a sip. The smell travelled up your nose.

You noticed that the sour feeling in your stomach had dissipated as you slipped the shirt on and started making your way down to the kitchens, cup in hand.

The wooden door to the cooking domain pushed open beneath your hand, suddenly revealing the same silver-headed chef you had run into a couple days earlier. He stepped backwards.

“Don’t worry, the cup is empty.”

“Not exactly what I was being cautious about, but good to know. Just didn’t want to be in your line of fire.”

You gasped, “Am I really that much of a hazard?”

He looked at the plated onigiri in his hands before holding one out for you. “More to yourself than to us. Want one?”

You huffed but took one anyway, biting into it immediately. Suddenly, out of your drowsy haze, you remembered your search. “Have you seen Yoomi around?”

The chef hummed, “This morning, but not since. Let me take your cup.”

You handed it over sadly, letting your shoulders droop at the news of your absent friend before stepping back into the hallway to begin your trek to the library.

Was he avoiding you? Running around and busying himself with work to keep himself away from your side? 

You paused in the large hallway with towering windows that overlooked the front garden. The sun was soft and warm, letting you easily look out the window without being blinded. Lydia stood out in the rose bushing with Bellamy, trimming the hedges and talking happily. The bench underneath the cherry blossoms held a pitcher of iced water and three glasses, both empty.

Did he know? He was with your father helping write the letters. Did he find out?

Your footsteps echoed through the empty wall as you continued your way down to the library.

You froze for a moment. Was he disappointed? Shaking your head, you quickened your pace.

The librarian just so happened to be stepping out as you got near, his light grey hair bouncing as he fiddled with the books in his hands. When he heard your heels hitting the floor he looked your way with a big smile. “Ah, your Highness, are you going in?”

“Sure am. May I ask where you’re heading?” You walked by him, through the doorway as he held it open for you.

“Oh, I'm joining Lydia and Bellamy in the garden.” He lifted the shoulder that was attached to the hand holding the small stack of books. “We plan to take a break and read in the sun.”

“Sounds lovely. Have fun.”

“You do too.” He winked before letting the door go and walking down the hall.

As the door closed behind you, your smile fell slightly and the sick feeling began to eat away at your stomach again.

From across the way, you could see the same green book from the second day of the event sitting on the coffee table in front of the two chairs. Its red ribbon poked out of the spine that became a bookmark as it hid between the pages.

Your steps echoed as you walked through the room, eyes trained on the novel that sat out of place.

Your fingers wrapped around the spine as you pushed your weight back to fall into your red seat. Kicking your legs up on one of the armrests, you twisted sideways to face the matching green chair and tilted your head to rest against the backrest. You opened the cover and began reading out loud to yourself from the first line.

“To the open waters of the great unknown, a pirate makes home among the fish and mermaids.”

You paused, stomach sinking as the sunlight lit up the view of the empty seat in front of you. 

The pages shook as you turned them, quivering lightly, sounding like a bird’s wings flapping. Even with the sun’s warmth pouring onto you through the skylight, it felt unbearably cold around you.

You eventually caught up to the marker, pausing as you held the ribbon between your thumb. Your mind wandered off the contents of the page in front of you to the mysterious man’s hand tucking it into the cover of the book.

Shutting your eyes for a moment, you shoved the ribbon back in place before flipping to the next page.

Only once the words stopped abruptly halfway through the page did you notice you had come to the end. Your mouth shut around the last syllable, swallowing the air as the story finished. Flipping the book in your hand to read the spine, you breathed slowly, readying yourself to rise to your feet and put the book away.

“You should read out loud more often, your voice is very soothing.”

The feeling that had dissipated in your stomach came back, shooting into your chest to make your heart race quicker. 

Frozen in place, you watched out of the corner of your eye as a freckled hand with your favourite ring adjourned on one finger came over your shoulder with a thornless rose balanced between two fingers.

“I’m sorry I haven't been around as of late.”

“Pri—” You swivelled in your seat, coming face to face with a familiar mask.

His arm now rested fully on your shoulder from the movement, giving you wide eyes beneath the crafted frame of green and gold. His hand lowered and arm moved, dropping the rose so it bounced off of your back and landed behind you, and came to rest on the back of your neck. The ring burned your skin. 

His breath was clean, warm against your cheeks. You bit your tongue as his other hand came to obstruct the view of his mask. Fingers gripping the top edge, he pulled the mask back, brushing over what you began to notice were loose wavy hairs. All the air in your lungs was stolen as you caught sight of two stacked moles through the moving eye socket of the mask.

You quickly raised your hand, brushing the pads of your fingers against the skin of his neck and weaving them through his shorter hairs. He breathed calmly as he pushed his forehead against yours. As he held the position you lifted your other hand to rest on the side of his neck, feeling his speeding pulse.

His moving hand dropped the mask, making it drop on the floor, and came to brush your side, gripping the flowy fabric of your poet's shirt between bare fingers.

Your stomach fluttered as his eyes closed and the tips of your noses touched. He hummed a happy sigh.

“I’m sorry that I’ve been rather absent the past few days.” You heard him kick the mask. “If you couldn’t tell already I was working two shifts at once.”

“Shut up. Yoomi.”

You pushed forward, lifting your knees onto the armrest and straightening up to get a higher vantage point, fingers pressing into his skin as you breathed against his lips. He held you tightly in return, pushing his chest into yours as his fingers danced along the centre line of your back. He pulled you closer, pushing your lips against his in a desperate manner.

The opposite side of the chair lifted, shooting your weight forward before falling back against the floor with a bang. You pulled away with a gasp, almost having fallen backwards if it weren’t for Kiyoomi’s arms gripping you tightly against his form.

“Clumsy aren’t you?” He smirked with half-lidded eyes.

You huffed through your nose, leaning toward his again. “I thought I told you to shut up.”

Guest appearances (not just by name) by: Yachi, Oikawa, Ushijima, Osamu, Ukai, Kiyoko, Aone, Sugawara

…..So I did say I’d write a long one. I was originally only going to be around 4k words…. Then I had an idea and kept writing. Normally I would write faster but this one took three weeks total. I’m proud of it though.

Also makes me want to do a mini series in this same universe… Maybe. Not sure how I'd have to set that up.

I’m sorry for making you edit so much Kiwi. - Bacon

(Don’t worry about it! It’s amazing! - Kiwi)

Posted: 28/02/2021

[ofwolvesandbutterflies]

flaneur

Pairing: Lee Donghyuck x Reader

Genre: fluff

Tags: prince!haechan, baker!reader

Warnings: nothing severe, just jealous haechannie, unedited

day 29 of 30 days with NCT

Synopsis: in which the youngest prince hates his older brothers, his responsibilities, his title... everything except his late night chats with you. 

// only the best things define what you mean to me // (x)

--

[22:23]

“I hate Jeno. Like, Mark is okay and Taeyong’s okay, too… But it’s Jeno that I really can’t stand,” the youngest of the four princes in your kingdom groaned, pausing in his chewing to stuff another piece of some of your freshly baked bread into his mouth. “God, how is your bread so good?” An amused smirk quirked up on your lips when he released a satisfied groan. “I’m serious, Y/N. Why don’t you work in the palace? This is so much better than the stale buns they serve with every meal.” 

Crimson flames reached higher in the furnace behind you, casting a fiery color all over the walls, effectively hiding your rose colored cheeks. Every time since the first time he showed, Donghyuck never failed to compliment your baked creations. And every time since the first time, his compliments never failed to send your heartbeat racing towards the same unwarranted speed. “I’m flattered you think so,” came quietly from your lips as you pulled the dough out of the rising bowl. 

“No, I know so, Y/N. You have got to be the best baker in the kingdom.” A heavy set of dark brown eyes settled over your figure as you worked, punching the excess air out of the sticky mixture. While most times, you weren’t one to enjoy people’s gaze on you while you worked, the young prince was different. There was a strange glint of excitement in his deep irises, fascinated with the way your hands went about forming what was soon to be a loaf of bread. The self conscious smile on your lips grew. 

“But anyways, Jeno.” A terrifying scowl marred his previously pouting lips and the way the youngest prince said his brother’s name, so heavy with bitterness and distaste… it almost made you want to dislike the male as well. You shook the thoughts out of your mind and refocused back on the task at hand. You didn’t even know the guy. “My gosh, he’s the only thing I ever hear my parents talking about. At every social event it will always be, ‘ooh, duchess of x, y, and z, count of pizza or something... may I introduce you to my son, Prince Jeno? Yes, yes, he’s awfully handsome with his stupid, perfect hair and his stupid, straight nose that never broke in a riding accident-” 

“A riding accident?” A startled gasp left your lips and you nearly dropped the piece of dough you had been rolling out. “Are you alright? Was that why I didn’t see you for a fortnight last month?” 

For a brief moment, all the disgust covering his face melted into embarrassment when the nobleman realized his slip up. “N-not important,” he stuttered, waving the topic away just like that. You narrowed your eyes at your friend, taking note of the light dusting of pink covering his cheeks. 

“A-anyways,” he cleared his throat, swallowing another bite of bread. “Back to Jeno - oh man, this bread is beyond heavenly. I should really bring some home and make like a secret stash somewhere in my wing - all I’ll ever hear at any meal, at every meeting, every passing within a good 10 feet within my parents is, ‘Jeno won that fencing tournament’ or ‘Jeno has been learning Latin and French. Won’t you say something for us, darling? With that annoying accent you make’... it’s always ‘Jeno this’, ‘Jeno that’, and the occasional ‘Prince Donghyuck, why can’t you do the things your older brother does? That would improve your public image, don’t you think?” The rage in his eyes burned brighter than the fire in the oven and Donghyuck chomped down unnecessarily hard on the last bit of bread in front of him. 

You knew the life of a prince was nowhere near perfect. From what you had heard from the youngest prince, it was anything but. As a civilian, at least you were allowed your privacy. Donghyuck didn’t even have that. That was the reason, he admitted within the first month he began to confide in you, that he snuck out of the palace to visit you so often. That and that fact he appreciated the way you looked, concentrated, at peace, and breathtaking the way you sat and listened without any judgement. With your lips locked and dough rounded into rolls, you set them aside to rise again as you took a seat across from your regular visitor. 

“Like okay,” Donghyuck sighed, resting his chin in his hands. “Taeyong’s married and out in his wife’s kingdom most of the year and we just heard they’re expecting. Like ‘whooo’ great… another unfortunate child stuck in the position of royalty.” 

You frowned at this. It was no secret the youngest prince hated his title, at least not to you anymore. He hated the responsibilities that came with being in line for the throne, he hated the publicity, he hated the favoritism and the constant heavy eye of criticism. All you could do was rest a gentle hand on his forearm as he continued. “Mark is at the frontlines with the rest of the soldiers because he’s the only one my dad trusted with all the militia. That, and I think his fiancee got caught cheating with her bodyguard. So it’s been just me and Jeno for a while now. But he doesn’t even try to get along with me! Like every chance he gets, he’ll rub in all his accomplishments and how mother likes him better… It’s- it’s both mortifying to be related to someone who, for one, has never tasted your bread-” the two of you shared a laugh. “-and two, doesn’t know when to be humble. Like, okay, we get it, you speak three, different languages. Well, I can say ‘fuc-” 

“Donghyuck,” you giggled, offering him one of the rolls you had made earlier this morning. “You told me you wanted to work on cursing less.” A sound of acknowledgement left his lips and he took the tasty morsel from your hands, snacking greedily on it. 

In the brief moment of silence, you took the time to admire the young man that had made your late nights preparing for the hustle and bustle of the day much more meaningful. Though not much older than you, the young prince truly had a way of making you comfortable. The women of your kingdom would gossip to each other while shopping about how handsome the princes were, and while you never took part in these silly conversations you certainly held many of the same sentiments. However… contrary to many, you personally thought the youngest prince was much more handsome than his older twin. 

While you had only ever seen Donghyuck in the dim light of the fire, what little light danced across his features was enough to bring the deepest of blushes to your face. His skin was a much richer color than his three older brothers and his eyes - when they weren’t angry - were soft and childlike. The youngest prince had a unique voice, smoother than any honey and melodic in its own accord. His smile and his laugh was infectious, never failing to spark joy within you. And, while you had only heard of the physical well-being of his older brothers, Donghyuck was lean and muscular, much more skilled than the average commoner in the arts of self defense and swordsmanship. The wistful sigh floated gently from your tired lips. 

Oh yes, the youngest prince was the most handsome out of the four.

“Y/N?” his voice brought you out of your stupor and you blinked. The prince had already finished his fourth piece of bread that evening. “You’re staring, again. What were you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” you hummed airily, rolling up your sleeves to check on the rising dough. He paused in his loud chewing to shoot you a playful glare. You knew that he knew that you weren’t telling the full truth, but still you shrugged. “Just that you’re much too kind to deserve the indigestion you’ll get in the morning from eating all this bread.”

“Oh, hush,” he snorted, rolling his eyes. “I’ve never gotten indigestion from eating /your/ bread. The bread from the palace, perhaps. But never your bread. I think I’ll be okay if I eat another-”

You smacked his outstretched hand away from the basket of day old bread off to the side. “Don’t you dare, your highness. Those are for the poor and hungry.” A childish pout appeared on his lips but he retracted his hands.

“Fine.” After another few minutes of drawing mindless doodles in the scattered flour on the table, Donghyuck looked up again. “Oh right, Y/N. I wanted to ask you something before I head home for the evening.”

“Anything, my prince.” 

It seemed the young prince wrestled for a good, long moment with his thoughts as a lovely fuchsia dusted his cheeks… until finally, “I’ve been thinking about you a lot more and I was just... I wanted to know wh-what, like what would it take for me to convince you to come bake for me in the castle?” 

--

a/n: thank youu for being patient~

[zukos-tsungi-horn]

Rating: G

Summary:  Zuko doesn't want to look like Ozai. After he botches his own haircut, Katara has a unique solution.  Soft Zutara hurt/comfort/fluff oneshot, set 4 years post-canon

Word Count: 3499

XXX

His fingers tremble against the hilt of his dagger.  His other hand is braced against the sink, where long black strands stand out starkly against the white marble.  He should turn the faucet, wash them down the drain, like he wishes he could wash away this impulsive, rash, stupid decision.

At least Uncle is away, visiting the Southern Water Tribe on the Fire Nation’s behalf.  If he were here, he would know exactly why Zuko had taken the knife to his long hair.  Of course, it won’t grow back fast enough to hide.  Agni, it won’t grow back fast enough for him to wear his crown.  How is he supposed to attend the council meeting tomorrow?  What will his advisors think when they see his hair chopped short and uneven?

He knows what they’ll think.  He looks like—he looks like Azula, in those moments before their last Agni Kai.

He looks mad.

A mirthless laugh escapes his lips as he looks up to meet his reflection.

“Better mad than…”

He watches his face break, and looks away from his own weakness.

Better mad than a copy of my father.

His reflection is his own.  The resemblance to Ozai can never quite be erased—it’s chiseled into his nose, his chin, the flecks of brown in his gold eyes.  But with his hair cropped above his shoulders again, it’s less overwhelming.

He peels his fingers from the sink to brush his scar.  That should have been enough of a mark to separate himself from his father.  

But when Azula’s wide eyes looked at him...

“This was stupid.  I’m not… I’m not Ozai,” he whispers.  

He knows this.  He’s been running the Fire Nation for four years now.  His people respect him.  The world respects him.

But he can’t forget the look in his sister’s eyes yesterday, when she took her first steps outside the rehabilitation center.  When she saw him in his full Fire Lord regalia for the first time, his crown secured tightly in his topknot.

When she broke for just a moment, and thought he was her father.

Water drips from his eyes into the sink, trailing down to wet the clumps of cut hair clogging the drain.  He’s being stupid.  For all he knows, Azula said that just to get under his skin.  She’s said worse things when he’s visited her in the center.  But he really thought she was ready.  The doctors said she wasn’t seeing things anymore…

But even if her moment of weakness was a hallucination, the reflected glimpses Zuko caught from his right eye weren’t.  At least, he’s fairly sure.

He’ll know if he keeps seeing them now, he supposes.

He’s still trying to gather the strength to clean the sink—and the floor; he had more hair than he’d realized—when a knock at the bedroom door startles him.  An undignified, strangled sound escapes his throat.

“Go away!”  He shouts at whoever it is.  He’d specifically asked his attendants not to disturb him when he turned in early for the night.  An early rest was supposed to calm his irrational thoughts.  

Instead, he’d caught his reflection in the bathroom mirror, and the dagger had been in his hand faster than he could think.

And now he’s here, hunched over the sink, shame and weakness etched into the sharp curve of his shoulders.  Some of his cut hair clings to the fabric of his nightrobe, settles in his hood.  No one should see the Fire Lord like this.

“Hey, I didn’t come all the way from the South Pole just to get yelled at,” an unmistakable voice filters through the thick wooden door.  His eyes widen, snapping up to meet his reflection.  

Maybe he really is going crazy.  There’s no way.

More to confirm his sanity than anything else, he rushes out of the bathroom, crosses the bedroom in a few long strides.  Flings open the door before he can talk himself out of it, before he can imagine what she’ll think if she really is there.

And there she is.  Katara, standing taller than he remembers in a newer incarnation of her old blue tunic. Her long hair is braided down her back, and her lips are pursed in a narrow frown that softens at the sight of him.

“Zuko?”  She speaks first, because he’s still too busy staring.  Two years of letters are nothing compared to actually seeing her face.  She’s always been beautiful, but now—

He winces.  Now he remembers exactly how pathetic he looks.

“Are you… are you alright?”  Her brows curve upwards in concern.

He’s not sure any amount of lying will convince her.  If she can read his worries between this lines in his letters, she’s sure to see it in his disheveled appearance.

“What are you doing here?”  He gasps out.

“Surprising my best friend, I thought,” she retorts before shaking her head.  “Sorry.  Uncle Iroh told me you’d want to see me, but if you don’t—”

“That’s not what I meant.”  He shakes his head quickly, sending loose strands of hair fluttering to the ground.  He’ll need to brush the chopped ends out if he doesn’t want to shed like Appa for the next few days.  “I just… you didn’t tell me you were coming.”

She smirks in a way that’s very unfair to someone who’s already questioning his lucidity.  

“That’s what makes it a surprise, silly.”

“Right.”  He rubs the back of his neck.  Sheds some more.  He knows she’s seen him worse—Agni, she’s seen him in his old half-bald phoenix plume—but still he wishes he’d had time to prepare for her.  Maybe it would have strengthened him long enough to weather that brief moment of weakness.

“You never answered my question, either,” she says quietly.  Her hand reaches for his shoulder, brushing black strands from his sleeping robes, and he flushes at the contact.  It’s been too long since he’s seen his friends if a simple touch like that feels foreign.  

(Foreign, and wonderful, and if she’s a hallucination, she sure is a detailed one.)

“I… what?”  He blinks.

She sighs heavily.  Whatever she was asking, that was apparently the wrong answer.

“I asked if you were alright, but I’m going to take that as a no.  You’ve been holding out on me.”

Oh.  He must have missed that while she she was brushing him off.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says anyway.  He just might have lost all coherent thought when he met with Azula earlier today, or right before he took the dagger to his hair, or when he first saw Katara.  Regardless, he doesn’t want her to worry.

She looks him up and down, an appraising expression on her face.  It’s too late to stop her from worrying, then.

“I didn’t just wake you up, did I?  Your hair is still damp.”

“I’ve been awake,” he grumbles, but feels grateful she only points out that his hair is damp, not that it’s… frankly, a complete wreck.

“Well, if you’re not going to bed now… would it be alright if I come in?”

He isn’t used to the amount of hesitance in her voice.  

“Of course.”  They’ve just been standing in his doorway, where anyone passing by could see.  Not that many people would be passing by this time of night, in this wing of the palace.  The only other visitor he would expect would be Uncle, and apparently he’s sent Katara in his place.  Odd, but Zuko supposes he can hear about his trip over morning tea.  

(And he won’t complain about delaying his explanations for his hair a little longer.)

There’s nowhere to sit except on his bed.  Maybe he should have thought that through, but thinking things through is clearly impossible today.  He perches on the edge of the mattress, nodding his head for her to do the same.  She leaves a small gap between them.  He knows that shouldn’t disappoint him, but it does all the same.

“I’m sorry,” he begins, running a hand through his too-short-just-right hair.  “I’m really glad you’re here.  Honest.  I just haven’t been… it’s been a rough day,” he admits quietly.  There’d never been much point in lying to her.  “I’m sorry you have to see me like this.”

“Zuko,” she says quietly.  Her hand rests on the soft duvet, fingers inching closer to his, but not touching.  “It’s times like this when I need to see you.”

“What?  So you can heal me if I hurt myself?”  He asks dryly.  Come to think of it, the back of his neck stings.  Maybe he did nick the skin there.

“No—I mean, I would, of course, but—spirits, I’m your friend.  Do you really think I wouldn’t want to be here for you?”

She has a point.  It would be an insult to her compassion to push her away now.

And he doesn’t want to.  

“Sorry,” he mumbles.  “I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Of course you didn’t.”  She lets out a breath, a half-laugh, and slips her pinkie over his.  The touch is so light it might be an accident, but it still grounds him.

She’s here.  She’s real.

“Azula thought I was Ozai,” he blurts out.  His gaze tears away from their brushing fingers, to the fist clenched in his lap.  “She was supposed to be released from the rehabilitation center today, and I swear she’s lucid now, and… it’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid.”  Her hand finally squeezes his.  It’s like that one action draws out his tension, siphons it away.  “You’re worried she’s right.  That you look like your father.”

He flinches at hearing her say it out loud.  She’s always been able to see right through him, but it’s still better than having to explain it himself.

“I don’t want to be anything like him.  I don’t want to keep looking over my shoulder every time I pass a mirror, thinking he’s—thinking he’s there.”  He winces.  

Stupid.  Pathetic.  All the ways Ozai used to make him feel… apparently still does make him feel. 

She just nods, though, as if that’s the most reasonable thing in the world.

“The haircut will help.  It suits you better, anyway.”

He turns to stone when her fingers comb through the jagged ends.  She must realize it, because she pulls away.

“Sorry.  I just—saw some bits still stuck in there.”  She blushes.

“I don’t mind,” he croaks out, throat suddenly dry.  He clears it with a cough.  “Actually, would you… would you mind fixing it up for me?  I couldn’t see the back very well.”  Not that he’d been really looking when he hacked it off.  

“I’d love to.” 

He feels like a little kid again, sitting cross-legged at the foot of his bed after providing Katara with the necessary supplies.  Her bare feet swing down on either side of him, bracketing his shoulders.

“Hold still,” she says when he squirms, “or you’ll be getting a taste of stinky waterbender feet.”  She wiggles her toes next to his face, and he laughs.

“Better than stinky earthbender feet.”  

He’ll never forget waking up with Toph’s feet in his face, demanding that he carry her on his back.  It was what he deserved after burning her soles that one time, but she still reeked.  He was half convinced she smeared them with mud beforehand just to mess with him.

Katara goes silent.  Was he joke that bad?  Or maybe she’s just realizing how much of a lost cause his hair is.  

“Katara?”  He asks.

“Sorry.”  She starts brushing out his hair.  Each stroke sweeps away some of the worries crowding his mind.  “I was just thinking… it’s been a while since I heard you laugh.”

It’s been a while since he has laughed.  Katara and his friends always brought out the best in him.

His eyes slide shut as she combs away the snipped remnants.  He shouldn’t get used to this.  She’s just doing him a favor, that’s all.

(Even if she did want to touch his hair more often, she can’t.  She won’t be staying in the Fire Nation long.)

(She never does.)

Scissors snip in his blind spot, right next to his bad ear.  He suppresses a flinch.  The one nice thing about keeping long hair was that he didn’t need anything sharp near the scarred half of his face.

“Your hair is so soft,” Katara says enviously.  “Is there some kind of secret washing regimen for Fire Lords?”

“I just use whatever my attendants set out for me.”  That probably sounds spoiled, doesn’t it?  It’s not like the palace servants will allow him to go out with his hair unwashed.

Agni, even they are going to kill him if Katara can’t get his hair under control.

“Well I’m stealing it.”

He grins at that, though he should be intimidated.  It’s hard enough to resist touching Katara’s hair as it is.  Any softer, and it’ll practically be a magnet pulling him towards her.

Bits of hair fall on his shoulders, litter the red towel spread beneath him.  He’s surprised she’s found that much to cut.  He doesn’t have a mirror right now, so he can’t check to see how it looks.  He’ll just have to trust her.

Luckily, he’s still used to that.

“Thank you, Katara.”

“Don’t thank me just yet.  I might still give you a warrior’s wolftail by accident.”

He smiles, picturing it.  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.  The looks on the council’s faces would be priceless.”

She laughs.  “You could start a new trend.  Bring Water Tribe fashion to the big city.”

He’d like to bring more of the Water Tribe here than just that.  But he knows he can’t ask Katara to stay.  He’d said it right all those years ago: she rises with the moon, and he rises with the sun.  They share the sky for just long enough to catch glimpses of her, before she disappears back to the bottom of the world.

He’s spent too long in the theater scrolls again, if he’s waxing this poetic.  Better turn his thoughts to more practical matters.

“Would a wolftail be able to hold up my crown?”

“Theoretically,” she says between snips.  He doesn’t flinch at them anymore.  “But, I mean… were you being serious?”

He blushes, suddenly unsure.  After all, he’s not a Water Tribe warrior.

“If I’m allowed to,” he admits quietly.  “I don’t know what the rules are, if it’s like a phoenix plume, or if I have to be judged worthy to—”

A loud snip, and a chunk of his hair falls to the ground.  She curses under her breath; it almost makes him laugh.  She’d never been one to curse when they’d traveled together.

“I don’t think I have much of a choice.  I cut this part too short; I’m not sure anything else will work now.  I’m so sorry.”

He risks a glance over his shoulder.  She’s biting her lip, glaring down at her scissors like they should glue his hair back together.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, Katara.  You really couldn’t make it any worse.”

“I could’ve made you bald.”

This time he does laugh.  “Well, you didn’t.  But even if you did, I wouldn’t be upset.  No one could say I look like Ozai anymore.”

Her brow creases in pity.  It’s not what he wanted—he’d been trying to reassure her.  

She reaches down to brush his remaining bangs away from his face.  The touch shocks through his system like ice.

“You’re nothing like him,” she says softly.  “I wish I could make you see that.”

His lips won’t move to speak.  Some incoherent noise might have passed through them, but Katara doesn’t point it out.  She just combs his hair back, and removes the tail of her own braid to bind his hair at the back of his skull.

“Almost done.”

He has to face her for this last part, where she shears away the hair along the sides of his head, above his ears. It’s difficult to look anywhere besides her blue eyes.  He tries to, though; he doesn’t want her to feel him staring.

“Is this weird?”  She asks, her hands steady as she sends bits of hair fluttering down to his shoulders.

He almost shrugs before realizing it might mess her up.  “Yujin—one of my attendants—usually cuts my hair for me.  She’s great, but… I like this too,” he admits.  “You’re very talented.”

“Thank you, but that’s not what I meant.”  She smirks.

“Then—what did you mean?”  His brow furrows.

“You’re kneeling.”  Her eyes flicker down to his legs, which are tucked beneath him.  “I just meant, since you’re the Fire Lord, you probably don’t do this much.”

“How else were you supposed to reach my head?”

She pulls the shears back and laughs.  When her eyes open again, they’re soft as water.

“You haven’t changed.  I didn’t think you had, from your letters, but it’s still good to see.”

“Thank you?”

“That is a compliment, I promise.”  She smiles, coming her fingers through the ends of his new wolftail.  It feels thicker and stubbier than a phoenix plume, and a little itchy on the sides, where his hair is much shorter now.

Hasn’t he changed?  He never felt like he was going this crazy before.  But strangely… after sitting here with her, he finds some of his worries aren’t as loud.  Maybe it’s that he can’t see long strands of black hanging in the corners of his vision.  Maybe it’s some kind of waterbending healing she worked in while his eyes were shut.  Regardless, a new energy fills him as he accepts her hand and rises to his feet.

“Come on.  Let’s make sure you like the Water Tribe look.  If not, we can always do you up like an Air Nomad.”

He winces.  “I don’t think I could pull off a shaved head as well as Aang.”

“I’m pretty sure you could pull off anything,” she mutters.

“What was that?”

Her eyes widen, and he has to hide a smirk, even if he knows it’s not true.  He sure didn’t pull off the shaved phoenix plume.  But it’s still flattering that she thinks he could.

“Let’s just get you to a mirror.”

She drags him to the corner of his room, where a gold-rimmed standing mirror reflects their forms.  Even trusting that she did a fine job, he finds himself afraid to look at his face.  It took him years to be okay with seeing his reflection at all, to not flinch at the wrinkled red skin on his left side.  Lately, it’s the unmarred side that causes more problems.

But he does look up.  And he looks… nothing like he expected.

A wolftail lies closer to the back of the head, unlike how a phoenix plume would sprout from the middle.  And this wolftail in particular is barely long enough to stay in Katara’s hair tie.  His black hair sprouts up like a tiny circle of grass.  The ridiculousness of it almost makes him laugh.

“You like it?”  She asks when she catches him smiling.

“I love it.”  His hair might look a little silly, but he’s not lying.

Now, instead of thinking of Ozai when he sees his reflection, he’ll think of her.

“Thank you so much, Katara.”

He folds her in a hug.  By the time he worries about it being too much, she’s already squeezing him back, burying her face into the crook of his neck.  The scent of her hair wafts up to him, salty and sweet.  Why did she ever want to borrow his hair products?  Hers feels soft as a turtleduck against his cheek.

“I’m always here for you, you know.  Next time, ask me before you go swinging your knife around, alright?”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says carefully, “but you’re not always here.  And I don’t expect you to be.  You have family, and friends, and obligations…”

“Zuko.”  She tugs on the collar of his robe until he looks down at her.  “You’re one of my friends.  So for now, get used to it.”

He blinks.  His heart picks up a stuttering rhythm, one he hasn’t felt since the day he lay in the palace courtyard, pulsing with lightning.

“You—you’re staying?”

“I’ve already talked it over with Uncle.  He said there are some rivers that have dried up, and I might be able to help divert water to towns that need it.  Besides, the South Pole has so many waterbenders now, I was starting to feel redundant.”

She’s staying.  At least for a little while, she’s staying.

He hugs her again.  He couldn’t have stopped himself if he tried.

“Looks like I was missed after all,” she laughs.

He smiles against the top of her head.

“Always.” 

XXX

The next morning, he arrives at the council meeting with a crown in his wolftail, and a waterbender’s palm in his hand.

[freshtomatoesddd]

An Extra chapter i wrote for my TyZula fanfic.

The chapter I've been writing is surprisingly depressing so. So take my mind off it, as well as practice slice of life stuff, I wrote this extra chapter.

TW! MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE AND RAPE. NOTHING HAPPENS TO THE CHARACTERS, but Azula and Ty Lee talk about a book that contains such elements. They're about 14 at this time, and Ty Lee has started to realize her feelings for Azula.

FLOWERS

The Fire Nation royal garden was one mesmerizing sight to behold to anyone blessed enough to ever graze its beautiful path, let alone one star struck Ty Lee. Though it wasn’t her first time visiting the royal palace, it had been her first time seeing the garden in full. The girl had a grin on her face as she trailed across the garden, observing in detailed delight the many sorts of flowers the Fire Lady had so patiently cultivated. They came in all sort of colors, most being some shade of red and yellow, though there were a few whites and even purples scattered about. The scent of the flowers took Ty lee by surprise, most bearing a fragrant and pleasant smell she seldom came across her own home, intoxicating the brunette with their soft yet pleasurable scent.

“As you can see, I have the best garden,” Azula stated, loud and proud as she usually was.

Ty Lee’s attention laid still on the bunch in front of her, scarlet red petals peeking at her, it’s thorny stems nearly drawing the girl to at least poke it. A bit stupid if spoken out loud, however, Ty Lee always had an urge to at least press her fingers against such thorns. Certainly not enough to draw blood, but only out of curiosity, to see what would happen, how it would feel.

“Yeah, congrats,” Mai said, Ty Lee hearing her footsteps as she walked around the garden.

“Where did the Fire Lady find all these flowers?” She asked.

“From all corners of the Fire Nation, some as far as Ember Island,” Azula said.

Ty Lee turned around, her gaze met Mai, the girl’s fingers fiddling with the leaves of a bush.

“Huh, that’s pretty cool,” Mai said.

Azula scoffed as she crossed her arms. She raised one brow and pursed her lips ever so slightly, annoyance covering her face as she spoke. Her golden pupils stared at Mai with such intensity, as if they were to pierce through Mai’s body. Even in the midst of what seemed to be a rather casual conversation, Azula looked so serious. Ty Lee wondered what it would be like to have such a ferocious stare placed on her.

“I don’t see how. Anyway, let’s go play hide and seek,” she said.

Mai groaned. “Please, not that, you always make us hide and chase after us like some hungry tiger monkey.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be chasing after you if you’re hiding spots weren’t so easy to find, obviously,” Azula said.

Ty Lee looked off to the side, wondering how nice it would be for Azula to chase after her, how frustrated the princess would get if she couldn’t reach her. Surely, Ty Lee thought, the look on her face would be priceless, cute even.

“Yeah, Mai, you should be more creative with your hiding spots,” the brunette jumped in.

Mai turned to her. “Don’t tell me you’re siding with her.”

Ty Lee waved her arm. “Nah, it’s not that. I’m just saying, you know, if you don’t wanna be chased around then you should probably look for hard to find places.”

“Well too bad I don’t know any hard to find places.”

“Yeah that’s what I mean, you should try and find them, you know?” Ty Lee said.

“You’re precisely correct, Ty Lee,” Azula said.

The brunette turned to the princess. “Wait, really?”

Azula quirked up a brow. “That’s what I just said.”

Ty Lee’s eyes widened for a split second. She quickly looked away, knowing that she might risk burning up at the sight of Azula, after she had agreed with her as well. Ty Lee pursed her lips, knowing full well how ridiculous her feelings were. She wasn’t supposed to feel this way, not for any girl, and most definitely not Azula. She wondered why she had even developed such feelings for the young princess, only to be met with more than a dozen answers. From her intellect, to the way she spoke, her determination and single-minded drive, Ty Lee admired all of it and more. Ty Lee sighed, wishing the boys around her were as cool, as driven. Perhaps then, she’d be able to feel about them the same way she did Azula.

Ty Lee’s grey eyes pranced around the garden as Mai and Azula argued over the intricacies of hide and seek, the brunette eventually spotting the crown prince walking beside the Fire Lady. As per usual, they were engrossed in conversation, Zuko stuck close to his beloved mother. Ty Lee didn’t blame the boy, for the Fire Lady had a certain poise and charm to her. From her warm gaze, her inviting smile, down to the way she carried herself, Ty Lee wondered how one person could be so graceful.

“Hey, isn’t that Zuko?” Ty Lee asked, a smirk growing on her face.

Mai whipped around, her eyes locking onto the boy at once. She grew red as an apple, Ty Lee and Azula giggled at the sight, the former struggling to keep laughing once she heard the princess’s laughter. Clearly, Ty Lee was no better than Mai.

She jostled her friend, though stammered as the brunette tried to speak. “Hey—hey, why don’t you make a move?”

Mai frowned. However, Azula stepped in and added fuel to the fire.

“Ty Lee’s right, Mai. You should advance while you can, before Zuzu gets matched off in an arranged marriage.”

Ty Lee looked away for another brief moment, unable to handle the pace of her beating heart. It was fast and rapid, pounding against her chest as if to break free. Ty Lee took in a small breath, turning back to her friends as she repressed her desire to run away and scream.

“You don’t know that,” Mai said, crossing her arms.

“Well, he is the crown prince, after all. Once he gets older, it would make sense to marry him off.”

Mai turned to Azula. “Well, does that mean you’re going to get married too?”

Azula smiled, laughter slipping past her lips. “Don’t be stupid, Mai, I don’t need to get married.”

“How do you know that?” Mai asked, her face still flushed red.

Azula laughed once more, finger pointed towards the flustered girl. “Oh please, the only reason for me to get married is to create alliances. But since the Fire Nation is about to dominate the entire world, then what sort of alliances would we need to make?”

“But Zuko,” Azula’s golden pupils looked to the side, paying close attention to her brother as she placed a finger on her chin, “He’s the crown prince and needs to make heirs. You need to get married to do that, at least, for the heirs to be legitimate.”

“Well, duh you need to get married to have kids” Mai said.

The princess chuckled. “You don’t need to get married to have children.”

Ty Lee quirked up a brow. “Really? Actually, how do kids even, you know, happen? Do they like, come out of bamboo stocks? Or large peaches?”

Azula rolled her eyes as she crossed her arms, scoffing at Ty Lee’s ignorance. “Not even close.”

Ty Lee pursed her lips, chest aching at Azula’s words. Once again, she knew it was ridiculous, stupid even for her to get hurt over such trivial insults. It was ordinary for the princess to act as such, and Ty Lee would normally brush off her remarks as nothing to be given a second thought. However, over the course of the past few days, she’s had little else to think about other than Azula. Ty Lee sighed, looking off to the flowers at her side. Perhaps, her feelings would fade away in time, nothing more than another one of her plentiful crushes. But even then, she wondered if she’ll ever feel such intensity for another person in her lifetime.

“Don’t be so upset,” Azula’s word cut through Ty Lee’s thoughts.

“I’ll make you two a deal. If you can successfully hide from me for fifteen minutes, I’ll tell you where children come from,” she said.

“Really?” Mai asked, her words laced in doubt.

Azula nodded, hand placed on her chest. “Of course, a princess always sticks to her promises.”

“Right…Anyway, let’s just get it over with.”

The young princess promptly turned around and covered her eyes. Quickly, she counted down from ten, giving Ty Lee and Mai little to no time to find and secure their hiding spots. Ty Lee immediately began running towards where Azula was facing, unconcerned to where her friend chose to hid herself. Thankfully, the princess hadn’t specified where they were allowed to hide, and so Ty Lee ran towards the garden’s walk way.

She ran past red pillars which held up its tiled roofs, her footsteps muddled by the sturdy stone under her feet, no matter how hard she sprinted. Ty Lee ran and ran, not exactly sure of where she would end up. The girl whipped her head up, thinking as her legs kept barreling her forward, nearly causing the girl to crash into a few of the walkway’s tall pillars. Much like the pillars, the wood which held up its roof too was made of strong, crimson colored wood, strings of rosy wooden patterns stretching across each pillar.

Eventually, Ty Lee ended up inside the royal palace. She ran still, running around the dizzying array of hallways, each covered in the same soft carpet, coated in the same bold colors of red and yellow, tall doors at each side of every corridor, it’s doorhandles made of intricately designed metal of lion heads. Before she knew it, Ty Lee had reached the monument which marked the academic section of the palace. Towering pillars held up a pagoda style roof which scratched the heavens, a dragon coiled around each pillar as they pointed towards a statue of Fire Lord Sozin, an inscription written under him Ty Lee couldn’t afford to stand still and read. The road forked off into three paths, Ty Lee opting to take the right most road as she figured that Azula would have a fondness for the library.

As the girl dashed down the stone path, the only thing indication that she was moving forward being the red ribbons tied unevenly around the stone fences, she witnessed a rather large pair of doors. Unlike the library, they had already been opened, no doubt swung as they flew all the way back to the other side of the maroon wall.

As the girl stepped inside, she saw a wide rectangular table at the very center of the room, scrolls, leather books and brushes littering its clear glass covering. Some were stacked on top of one another, ink splattering a few parts of the sleek wood. The table itself was fairly standard for the royal palace, made of no doubt expensive, regal wood painted with a dark finish. The chairs, however, Ty Lee took a liking to them. Not only were they tall, they were also comfortable. Surely, she figured that sitting was much better then kneeling, and wished that sitting too was granted the ‘proper’ status that kneeling did.

Of course, being the nature of the academic section of the palace, bookshelves covered both sides of the room, the wall facing Ty Lee’s front spared as it only had a painting of Fire Lord Sozin hanging on it. Gently, he swayed with the wind, Ty Lee nervous that the late Fire Lord might fall at any given moment. Next to the wise man were two tables, both of which were empty, save for a random brush and some scattered scrolls, some even unrolled to the ground as Ty Lee wondered if someone accidentally stepped on it.

As the brunette leaned back against her rather comfy chair, she wondered what sort of a person, or rather, persons were busy enough to turn the study area to such a mess. The girl placed a finger on her chin, wondering if a few generals gathered just a few hours earlier and forgot to clean up. Perhaps, in their super serious meeting, they were re-searching the best way to destroy the Earth Kingdom, or something along those lines. However, Ty Lee noted that such an idea wouldn’t exactly make sense, as such issues would be addressed in war meetings, not study areas. Another thing which didn’t add up was the mess. If generals or anyone that wasn’t apart of the royal family left the place in such untidy disorder, Ty Lee was sure that the Fire Lord would banish them as soon as he found out. And seeing as the doors were wide open, she figured that he already knew.

Ty Lee snapped her fingers as she was reminded of the gaping doors. “Darn, I forgot to close them.”

Jumping off her chair, she approached the large doors. However, Ty Lee was not intimidated by their size, for she placed her palm in the wood and pushed hard. Unfortunately for the girl, she lacked the physical strength required to close one door without using both hands, along with her body. One door closed, another still open. Ty Lee took in a breath, sighing as she walked towards the other. With much the same bone aching struggle, she finally closed both, sliding to the ground in exhaustion. Ty Lee leaned against them, sighing once more as she wondered why the royal palace needed to have such unnecessarily heavy gates acting as the entrance to almost every room.

“So annoying,” Ty Lee huffed.

Somehow, she got on her feet and sauntered back to the same chair, sitting on it as she leaned back.

“Ah man, this seat feels so nice, I should probably ask mom to buy us these.”

Ty Lee thought for a moment, of her mother, and if she’d even be able to talk to her that day and the next. Realistically, she knew it to be untrue, for her mother and father were busy people. They had fellow important people to meet and mingle with, leaving her with only her servants and sisters at home. Ty Lee looked off to her side, eyeing the tall stack of books beside her, wondering what sort of a madman would read six books in one sitting. And judging by the amount of paper scattered about the table, how many brushes and ink trays were stacked on top of one another, the person was supposedly studying them as well.

She leaned forward, grabbing the top most book from the pile. “Well, if I’m gonna be stuck here I might as well do something.”

Ty Lee opened the book and flipped to the first page. In it, there was a brief description of a nameless kingdom, seemingly under political turmoil from within, its citizens suffering as a result. So far, it was a typical ‘intellectual’ book Ty Lee would see scholars argue about. She flipped to the next page, introduction of the supposed protagonist. He had no name, other than his given title as king. The man looked to unite his kingdom, to reach his country’s true greatness, whatever that meant.

As the brunette quickly grew invested in the story, she realized that though the king had good intentions, he was not a good man. He would attack his enemies without a second thought, killing his prisoners and pillage any village that laid between him and whatever army he was fighting. He would make a point to deliver swift devastation to any one population or person which got in the way of ‘achieving greatness’, by any means necessary. To say the least, the man was a monster, for he didn’t even feel pity when beating his pregnant wife when she pleaded for him to end his bloody crusade. She knew she wasn’t supposed to be reading such horrid tales, but she couldn’t look away, riveted by the story’s graphic accounts and deep plot.

So invested was Ty Lee to the plot that she had neglected to use her ears. Entrenched in the story, Ty Lee failed to recognize the sound of wood dragging open. It was only until a hand landed on her shoulder did she realize she’d been caught, Azula staring at her with the same fierce glare she gave Mai. Ty Lee froze, unsure of what to do or say. She had yet to recover from the gruesome tale, and she was now facing the rather annoyed looking princess. She gulped, feeling to be under the microscope that was Azula’s stare. Nowhere near as exciting as she thought, rather, it was terrifying to be scrutinized by means of a single look. Her hands shivered as a chill traveled up her spine, Ty Lee pursing her lips as she did little else than look at Azula.

“What are you doing here?” the princess asked in a low voice.

Ty Lee stammered as she struggled to for words, dropping the book entirely.

“Oh, me? I was…um, uh, I was uh—reading, and stuff.”

Azula quirked up a brow. Slowly, her hand approached Ty Lee’s direction, the girl wincing as she questioned what Azula would do. However, the princess grabbed the book and dusted it off, neatly stacking it on its original pile.

“You should refrain from mishandling my books,” she said in a stern voice.

The brunette’s eyes widened. “Wait, that was your book?”

Azula scoffed. “I just said that.”

Ty Lee looked around. “Does that mean that all of these books belong to you?”

Azula nodded. “Indeed.”

“So, like, all of this stuff belongs to you too? The books, the scrolls, the brushes and the ink too?” Ty Lee motioned her hands to the objects listed, disbelief clear in her eyes.

Azula shrugged. “What of it? In fact, why do you care of what I do in my spare time?”

Ty Lee gulped. “Ah, you’re right, sorry about that. But I mean, it’s pretty cool that you study super hard in your spare time. Like, I can barely do my homework right.”

The princess chuckled, Ty Lee’s heart pounding fierce against her chest once more. Unlike last time, she could not look away, it would be rude. So instead, the brunette smiled along, repressing her urge to flee form the immediate vicinity and do breathing exercises.

“Hilarious as always, Ty Lee. This is not for school, I’m studying things far more advanced than what you or Mai will ever learn in your lifetime,” the princess said.

Ignoring the insult, Ty Lee placed a finger on her chin. “Wait, if it’s not for school, then why are you studying?”

“I’m not studying, I’m learning.”

“Yeah, learning what?”

Azula leaned in, Ty Lee taking in a breath as she did so. Faintly, she could smell Azula’s fragrant shampoo. Ty Lee resisted the urge to shake her head, noting how creepy it was for her to even think of something like that.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” the princess said.

Ty Lee turned away, unable to meet Azula’s eyes. She pursed her lips, heat creeping up her neck. She clung on to the table, her fingers clawing at its wood to take her mind of the situation. But she knew, better than anyone that it was no use. No matter how hard she tried, to ignore and run, there was no denying the physical proximity between her and Azula. The princess was so close, so much so Ty Lee could practically hear her breathing, their faces only just a slight finger away. She wasn’t sure why Azula was doing such a thing, whether it be for her own amusement at Ty Lee’s expense. But whatever it was, the brunette hoped for it to end soon.

“Why are you so red? Are you sick?” Azula asked.

Ty Lee turned to the princess. She opened her mouth, though shut it as soon as her eyes met with Azula’s. Once more, she struggled for words, her attention stuck onto the princess. But soon enough, Ty Lee was able to force herself to speak.

“What? Me? Sick? No way. Nah, I’m totally fine,” Ty Lee said.

Azula was silent for a brief second. “You’re a horrible liar.”

The brunette sighed. “Yeah, I am.”

The princess spent another second or so staring at Ty Lee, much to the latter’s painful displeasure, her pounding heart practically cracking her ribs open. However, soon enough, Azula sat next to the brunette. With her arms crossed, she closed her eyes.

“Mai’s gone home, that’s how long it took for me to find you. How annoying,” she said.

Ty Lee couldn’t help but smirk, proud of her accomplishment. “Does that mean you get to tell me where kids come from?”

“I suppose. It depends, would you like to know?”

The brunette nodded. “Yeah, tell me.”

“That book you were reading, have you gotten to the section where the King met his future bride?”

Ty Lee scratched the back of her head. “Yeah, but I kinda skipped that part. It was getting…weird.”

Azula sighed. Slowly, she opened her eyes. The princess reached for a brush and paper.

“When the King first met his bride to be, he was so overcome with lust that he couldn’t contain himself. And so, in the dead of night, he snuck into her room.” Azula dipped the brush in ink.

“His bride had no knowledge of this, so she was fast asleep,” Azula folded the paper.

Ty Lee had absolutely zero idea what the princess was talking about, for the concept of lust and whatever strange happening Azula was talking about was completely new to her. And so, the brunette willfully listened to what Azula had to say, her ears wide open.

“The King spread the woman’s legs,” Azula placed the brush’s inked edge against the paper, “And went inside of her.”

The princess pressed brush through the paper, tearing it as Ty Lee winced. Now dirtied and torn, Azula set them aside.

“And that is how children come to be.”

Ty Lee furrowed her brows.

“So, basically, you…need to…uh,” the brunette couldn’t finish her sentence, unsure of what to say.

“I know what you’re going to say. And no, you don’t need to be in a bed. In fact, you can do it most anywhere, with anyone. It doesn’t really matter who or when, or even how it happens. So long as it does, there’s always a possibility for a child to be conceived,” Azula said.

Ty Lee leaned back against her chair, confused on what to do with her newly gained knowledge. She certainly couldn’t tell her parents about it, nor anyone she knew. So perhaps, she would carry it along with her, keeping it to her lonesome. But then again, the question arises once more, what exactly was she to do? Ty Lee fiddled her thumbs, staring off into nothing as she thought about what Azula said.

“Um, did the, uh, did the bride know what was happening to her?” she asked.

“No, not at all,” Azula said.

The brunette furrowed her brows. For some reason, what Azula said left a sour taste in her mouth. “Uh, I don’t think that’s okay.”

“In the eyes of the King, anything is fair game so long as he’s the one pulling the strings.”

“Yeah, okay, that’s pretty much his whole character. But, like, I don’t think you should just do that to someone without them knowing, you know? It just doesn’t feel right.”

“Since when did you start having opinions on literature?”

“Uh, since I read that book, I guess.” Ty Lee played with her fingers as she turned to Azula.

Much to her surprise, Azula had some semblance of a smile on her face. Not her usual snide smirks, or patronizing grins. Rather, perhaps, it was one of genuine amusement, how she didn’t expect Ty Lee of all people to take up the moral nuances of her book. The princess kept her smile as she leaned forward, resting her head on one hand, her golden eyes fixed on the brunette.

“What do you think of the King?” she asked.

“Well,” Ty Lee searched for the right words, “He’s a pretty bad person, so I don’t really like him. I mean, if he really wanted to unite his kingdom and achieve greatness and stuff, why couldn’t he just, you know, do it peacefully?”

“Well, his country has been stuck in a civil war for over a century, any chances of alliance between the warring sides was a mere dream,” Azula said.

“Yeah, you’re right. But still, even if he had to attack all those armies and villages, couldn’t he at least spare the innocent people? I mean, they had nothing to do with the war or the political plot, but they were massacred like animals. It just, doesn’t seem fair to me, you know? He wanted to help his people, but they became worse off under his rule.”

The princess smirked. “And how’s that?”

Ty Lee was taken aback by Azula’s smirk. “Um, you know, the economy and stuff. Since he burned downed and killed all the people in the farming villages, they had no crops or really any kind of food. He also destroyed the ports to stop his enemies from trading, right? So, he also can’t get any help from the outside.”

“What would you do if you were in the King’s position?” Azula asked.

“What? Me?” Ty Lee pointed at herself.

“Yes, who else am I talking to?”

Ty Lee stayed silent. She thought long and hard of what she was to do had she been in the King’s shoes, if there was even anything she could do to bring peace and ‘greatness’ to her kingdom. She knew that for one, she’d have to stop the civil war. But as Azula said, an alliance between the warring sides was impossible. She could try and try, and her calls for negotiations would fall on deaf ears. So perhaps, rather than trying the peaceful way, she’d have to bring them down herself to keep order. But then again, that would make her no better than the men who instigated the civil war in the first place. She would be just like them, a person who thinks of what she’s doing to be great and good, operating by her own moral compass.

Ty lee shook her head. “I…I don’t know, it’s complicated.”

“How so?” Azula asked.

“If I try the peaceful way, nothing will happen and innocents will die. But if I try the war way, more people will still die. There’s no winning.”

“So, is that what you see as winning?”

“What?” Ty Lee asked.

Azula leaned against her chair. “You want to bring peace to the kingdom with as little lives lost as possible.”

“Well, yeah, obviously.”

“I see,” Azula crossed her arms. ‘Well, however you see it, the King won in the end.”

Ty Lee raised a brow. “What? How?”

Azula clasped her palms. “He sought to unite his kingdom no matter the cost, and so he did. Even after his kingdom fell apart and crumbled, he had by definition achieved his goal, and so won. I don’t deny that his actions are near sighted and foolish. However, the one admirable trait I found within the king was his drive, his resolve.

“He had made it his purpose to unite his kingdom, and by proxy cause it to achieve greatness. Throughout the entire story, he stopped at nothing to inch closer towards that very goal. Not even after his wife’s death did he bother to reconsider his plans, or even so much as think of possibly ending his crusade. No, rather, he had the resolve to see his plan through. And by the end of it all, it was he who sat on the throne, it was he who brought his country to unified glory, even if only for a brief moment.”

Ty Lee furrowed her brows. “So, you like the King? As like, a person?”

Azula chuckled. “As a person, I’d have him executed if he so much as grazed my presence. However, I can admire his traits, even if they belonged to an idiotic psychopath.”

Ty Lee had nothing else to say or add, and so the girl merely nodded. The two of them spent the rest of their evening talking, about the book, and of other things. Whatever they were, it was not important to Ty Lee, for she was far too busy savoring every moment she spent with Azula. For once, she was able to speak with the princess in a way that made her feel good. Yes, her chest ached at the very thought of her, heart pounding as if she were to be chased down by a hungry tiger monkey at any given moment. But through it all, Ty Lee was still happy. Quite honestly, that was all that mattered to the girl, and she wished the princess felt the same way as well—no matter how unlikely it was. A/N: Hey there :) If you've enjoyed this little chapter, consider reading the actual fanfic here Anyway, thx for reading, and have a nice day.