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jiminiecrickets · 1 month

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MILK & TWO SUGARS. KTH / M!READER

summary. despite being your subordinate, taehyung relishes in his power over you.

wc. 4.9k

tags. boss/assistant au, dom top!reader, bottom!tae, tae films himself to tease you, oral (r. receiving), office/desk sex, unprotected sex, officemates-with-benefits (sort of)

[ requested ]

the train carriage rocks and rumbles, steel and electricity burning beneath your feet. you hover beside the moving join between carriages, counting down the number of stops until it reaches yours. aside from the not-so-inconspicuous journalist snapping pictures of you across the carriage, it has been a fairly smooth ride.

he's wearing a cap, staring down at the flip-out screen of his dslr, pointed just right in your direction. he's far enough away that the photos probably don't seem that creepy – not i-pretended-to-bump-into-you-for-this-picture creepy, at least – and he's not holding the camera low enough to angle your crotch as the focal point, which is more than you can say for some other journalists. sure, you may have had a wild youth, but you were square now – just a guy in a suit on his phone with a messenger bag strapped across your chest. the most interesting thing about you was the fact that a bouquet of purple and yellow flowers stuck out one end of your bag.

for all the other commuters knew, you were heading home to kiss your wife and your two-and-a-half kids. you would like to keep it that way, isolating yourself with earbuds playing a rotation of your favourite songs.

on your phone, your insanely efficient and ridiculously beautiful personal assistant has just stopped using capital letters and proper punctuation.

seriously where are you? your coffee's going cold :(

you huff. you told him to wait a while longer before grabbing it since you needed to stop by the florist, but he had always been strict about your schedule. if it wasn't on the document, it didn't exist.

a couple more stops to go, you reply, glancing out the windows to ensure you're not getting his hopes up. nine minutes.

can't you get here any faster?

no, taehyung. it's always going to be nine minutes.

despite his profile picture only being his initials – KT, matching at least four other people in your phone – he manages to inject a whole lot of personality into his next message.

then don't walk, desk jockey. what can i do to make you gallop? the bubble of three dots pops up. perhaps i can tempt you over with a carrot?

please stop it with the horse metaphors.

but you're the only one i wanna ride <3

you nearly choke on your saliva, hastily pressing your phone screen to your chest for privacy. you steel your nerves when your phone vibrates again, chasing away the heat crawling rapidly up your neck. you take a deep breath and glance down.

a video. you tap the play button and the window expands to take up your screen.

the first thing you notice is that taehyung's not wearing any pants. he's wearing everything but pants, and you even see a flash of his playful smirk as he tightens his tie when he glances down. he smooths it down, down his stomach, and leans back in a chair.

your chair.

holy shit. he's in your office.

he tucks one foot up onto the edge of your desk, polished pointed shoe pivoting as he makes himself comfortable. he rests on the point of his elbow, cradling his jaw with long slim fingers.

he wraps his slender fingers around his cock, revealing it from beneath the bottom of his crisp white dress shirt. only the bottom sliver of his face is visible, soft and shapely pink lips playing at innocence, tucked teasingly between his front teeth.

your music doesn't provide a buffer anymore. on instinct, you darken your screen and slam the mute button, thumb working at the phone's volume button in excess.

but, because you have terrible vices, you slowly edge the volume back up until his soft, breathy moans rattle in your skull like a marble inside a can of spray paint.

"hey, boss," he whispers, fingers rolling over his reddened tip, cock dark pink and shining in his grip. he plays at formality, straightening his jacket lapel with his free hand. his hand drops down to cup his bare thigh, golden and soft, and slides gently over his skin, back and forth – caressing himself the same way you do. he exhales softly, back arching. the chair's leather shifts audibly. "come grab your coffee, already. aren't you thirsty? i sure am."

dropping his leg, he pushes his shirt up around his chest, and lifts his phone above him with a sound between a hum and a moan. taehyung twists in your black leather chair, its tall slim shape highlighting the way he angles his hips to accentuate his waist and hips and the way his soft thighs fill up the seat of the chair.

you close your eyes for a steadying breath, shifting on the spot as the train pulls up to your station. thank goodness you had the epiphany to wear a dark suit today. it'd be a particularly awkward gossip piece for that journalist – yes, still there – if you'd worn something lighter.

"i'll be waiting, big boy," he coos directly into your ears, the breathiness in his voice and the flush to his cheeks letting you know just how long he's been in your chair.

he's going to be the death of you.

you weave your way through the station, hurrying down the stairs with your phone in a death grip, screen off. it pings when the pedestrian crossing lights turn green and your mouth goes dry at the sight of another video, described only by date and file type. you struggle to swallow.

on his knees, lovely round ass presented to the camera, taehyung pumps three fingers in and out of his slick hole, the shine of lube dripping down his thigh. his moans are quick and muffled by the palm over his mouth, his cheeks glowing pink with desire, and his hips jerk as he pulls his knees close together. his cock presses firmly along the seam of the back of his thighs.

hissing softly, he pulls his fingers out with a slick pop, lubricated until the knuckle. he glides his fingertips around his hole, showing himself off with a soft giggle, and rocks back on them until his cock twitches. it leaks as he fucks himself with them.

"ah...! get down here, already – my fingers aren't as thick as yours, baby. m-maybe i could still come on them, though," he moans slyly, the quick slick sound of his pumping fingers jolting shivers down your spine. "gonna fucking come on myself, come on your desk – every time you enter this office, you're gonna remember the way i made you feel."

he moans with a toss of his head as his hand quickens. his leaking cock pulses and he bounces slightly on his fingers, that little bit of friction from his cock bumping his thighs almost enough.

"what is it... that you said?" he grins back at the camera, dark eyes smoky and devious. "only angels have bodies like mine? well... white was always heaven's colour."

his lips part as his dark brow furrows, his grip tightening on the back of the chair as his hips tremble. his cock explodes with cum, spurting out in thick white ropes that splatter the backs of his thighs like the sweetest glaze. he spreads his jerking, trembling thighs, and his release slowly pools on the black leather between his knees. he pants softly, wordless.

in the silence of your earbuds, your head rings with the anticipation of your pounding heart, nearly sprinting the half-block down to the skyscraper with your last name printed on it. you push through the large glass doors carelessly – they're shatterproof, and they'll survive you shouldering your way through them.

on your phone, taehyung lets out a soft exhale that sinks claws into your brain. glossy white beads drip from the edge of your chair between his unblemished legs, and if that's not a scene of the divine, then you don't know what is.

shit. hastily, you pass the receptionists and slip into an empty elevator someone left behind. swiping your card, you punch the button for the highest floor, and survive the agonising seconds up, dumping your earbuds and phone unceremoniously into your bag.

the elevator dings, and you're shoving yourself through the tiniest gap the moment it appears with a problem in your pants and a problem at your desk.

lazily, taehyung grins, pink tongue swiping over his lips. one hand strokes his pretty cock under the desk, the motion of his arm perfectly clear.

"hey there, big boy," he purrs. "finally here for your coffee, right?"

you grunt noncommittedly, extracting the bouquet of flowers from your bag before dumping the bag on the loveseat by the elevator. you place it in a white vase and wiggle it back into place on the cute pigeonhole shelf.

you turn back to him, and he's standing now, leaning forward over your desk with that same silky smile. "done with playing uncaring? come over here, make me sorry. i've broken your rules, haven't i, boss?"

"you're a real piece of work," you growl, stalking towards him and yanking him away from your desk to survey the damage. time to put in a request for a new chair. you return your gaze to taehyung, who just smiles demurely at you and strokes the bulge in your trousers.

"a piece of art, don't you like telling me?" he teases, nudging your cock with his knuckles. his smile widens as your breath skips like a record player. he pushes you towards the end of your oak desk. "you liked my presents, did you?"

"presents? that was torture," you rumble, placing your hand on top of his head and fisting a handful of his hair. you tug firmly backwards and his eyes roll back briefly as he moans, hands faltering for just a moment as he fiddles with your fly – you smirk at the sight.

his lashes flutter as he regains control, pupils dilating as he gazes up at you from between your thighs. "but you liked them, right, sir?" he asks softly, almost nervously. he fishes your cock out and his breath hitches, his lower lip tugged between his teeth as he stares up at it.

"is the sky blue, dove?" you ask, softening your voice just for him. he melts like chocolate, pressing himself sweetly into you, and you let go of his hair to card it back from his large dark eyes, tucking the stray strands behind his ears. "but i won't say it didn't surprise me. i was on the train."

"your fault when you have a perfectly good car in the garage, sir," he says with a hum, and he kisses the base of your cock. he lifts your hand back to his hair and you guide his head towards the head of your shaft. with a soft moan, he's all yours again to eat and enjoy, those dark brown eyes almost gold in the late afternoon sun.

"i'll let that sass slide because you're usually such a sweet boy," you say softly, humming as he drags his warm tongue over the ridge of your tip. "good. suck."

he loves the way you talk to him with that voice – a voice like chocolate, sweet and thick and dark. he bobs his head, stroking what he can't fit, and he moans when you hit the back of his throat, filling his mouth and stretching his jaw wide. he works at your cock, tongue lapping at the veins, tracing them to your tip and back, and closes his lips around your shaft, gradually getting all of it down his throat.

he clasps your thighs, letting himself enjoy the heft and heat of your cock filling his throat, and his eyes slide closed, the tip of his nose brushing your pelvis. you exhale softly and pat his hair to watch it bounce back into place, tugging the loose beach curls between two fingers and letting them spring back. it's incredibly soft and silky for someone who's dyed his entire head honey blond for at least as long as he's been working for you.

you cup his cheek as he bobs his head, warm tight throat swallowing your cock, constantly squeezing and fluttering, and your hand shifts to his chin, fingers pressed against the bend of his throat where it meets his jaw. gliding your fingers lower, you can feel your cock sliding against the walls of his throat. when he pulls back until just the heavy tip rests on his tongue, you feel with reverence the way he swallows it down, following the movement of the tip of your cock with each finger it passes.

below, you watch in amusement as he jerks himself off, motions quick and shallow but involving the motion of his whole arm from the shoulder. he moans as he swallows your cock, and your head falls back as your cock throbs from the tight vibrations.

"fuck, taehyung, good boy," you groan, listening to him choke and gag on it as if he couldn't get enough. saliva coats your dick, and it drips down his chin. his parted lips allow him to moan and when he closes his lips around it, he redefines the word 'suck'.

his cheeks hollow, his eyes roll back, and he's so warm and wet around you that your control snaps and you yank his head forward, burying your cock deep in him. he whimpers so perfectly when he feels your cum sliding down his throat, swallowing rapidly. his lashes flutter as he pushes himself deeper and his lips press against your base, making you grunt sharply, fingers tightening in his hair.

even when your grip loosens, your uneven breaths steadying, taehyung keeps you in his mouth, feeling his own hot cum drip down his twitching cock. he doesn't stroke himself, doesn't pull away – just contents himself during the aftermath of his high with keeping his mouth full, blinking slowly like a cat at the hazy middle-distance.

you have to slide him off your cock and he protests, whimpering softly as his nails dig into your thigh. you wrap a hand around yourself, pumping it slowly, and taehyung stares on yearningly, licking his lips subconsciously when a bead of cum slides down your tip.

"do i need to look at what you've done," you ask, though your voice remains steady at the end like a statement. "pretty thing, we are in my office. that means no messes."

"doesn't feel as good as when you're in me," he rasps, leaning up and kissing the base of your cock. "please, baby? promise i'll clean up later."

"you can't always get your way through flattery," you chuckle as he stands, tilting and falling against you as if he belongs there, wrapped in your arms. one hand travels further down and cups his ass, squeezing the supple warmth of it. he moans airily.

"it's worked so far," he whispers. "go sit down, big boy. gonna ride you like you deserve."

"what, you're going to tease this gorgeous little ass and i'm not allowed to have a taste?" you tease, and taehyung grins, pressing chest-to-chest with you. "you're a cruel man."

he smiles, still panting softly, and presses his lips to the line of your jaw. "maybe later," he murmurs. "will you clean me up and take care of me afterwards?"

"depends on my mood, pretty," you hum, guided over to your seat and watching as he sets himself atop your lap. you squeeze his thighs, sitting up against his back.

"you're a chivalrous man, boss. you wouldn't force me to walk home with your cum dripping down my leg," he chuckles, placing his ass over your cock and grinding against it. he grips the armrest and turns his head over his shoulder to kiss you, the other hand coming up to grip your hair. "mm – fuck me already. wanna feel your cock fill me up like a whore – been waiting for ages to get you alone for this."

"you could always call me outside of work, you know?"

"but where's the fun in that?" he teases, and sinks down on your cock with a breathy relieved moan that makes you shiver.

holy fuck. he's so damn warm, so wet. for a moment your thoughts fizzle out into pleasant static shooting down your spine and out to your fingers and toes. just being with him, close to him, enveloped by his faint blue cologne, makes heaven an afterthought.

when you come to and open your eyes – despite not remembering closing them – you are met with taehyung's soft smoky gaze, his warm palm cupping your cheek. he smiles, breathless, as he leans in, closing his eyes and pressing your foreheads together. "you're handsome when you come."

after taking a moment to gather yourself, you frown slightly, shifting your hands higher on his thighs. no, you are most certainly still hard. "wishful thinking, much?"

"no, that was better than watching you come." he nuzzles into your cheek and jaw, then presses your foreheads together again with a soft roll of his hips. the action has you gasping and he slots his mouth against yours, taking advantage of the moment of weakness to slip his tongue between your teeth.

knowing he, your quiet, pretty little secretary, is the one to bring you down from your pedestal, fills him with insurmountable pride. smugness, too – a healthy dose of it. after all, the media made you into the country's most eligible bachelor, and still here you were, leaning into his touch like a soft college boyfriend. you've spent every waking moment since you turned eighteen having columnists nipping at your heels and biting into your clothes, your friends, your love life, and anything else they can twist into drama or some moral fault with you. he knows how high your walls are because of it and the fact that you decided to give him a chance, to let him help you, despite looking like every one of the scandalmongers who've ever hurt you, makes him proud.

you'd never truly lost that pureness about you, that faith in people's goodness that most lose the first time they're betrayed by those they love. that is a very hard thing to do when so many close to you have had some dark immortal want to leech out of you.

taehyung's getting ahead of himself. he can start thinking such things when you start calling him your boyfriend.

"i missed you," he whispers, breath hitching as the ridge of your cockhead catches on his rim. he reaches behind himself, guiding himself onto your dick, and his fingernails dig into your shoulder as he throws his head back with a breathless moan.

"yeah?" you murmur, because you can't ever stay upset at taehyung. "it's only been a few hours. fuck. mm – couldn't have known. maybe you should've sent me a few more videos of yourself."

he tries to gasp in offence, but it comes out too breathy, too pleased. he bounces on your lap with his creamy thighs bracketing yours. "pig. why do you want videos when you have the real thing right in front of you?"

"so i can remember you on lonely nights in foreign hotel rooms."

he scoffs, chuckling softly as he circles his hips, making you groan and tighten your grip on him. he cups the back of your head and pulls you in for a kiss. "give me a promotion, big boy. then your nights won't have to be so lonely."

"you and your silver tongue," you murmur, placing your hands on the curve of his ass, the tiny dip of flesh at the base of his spine. he arches into your touch with a soft sigh, clenching around you and enveloping you in his velvety heat.

"mhm. you know what my tongue can do," he teases, content to fill himself up with you and do nothing else for the rest of the day. he could sit here, pretty as a princess, for the rest of his life and he'd have no qualms about it.

you, however, have different ideas.

you hook your arms under his thighs and rise to your feet, swiping pens and papers clear of your desk and onto the floor with a clatter – he laughs – and you set him down on your desk, kissing his jaw and neck. you nip at his earlobe and he growls in warning playfully, yanking your hair to bring your throat closer to him. he sucks a hickey onto the sensitive skin, the sting giving way to pleasure far too easily.

he spreads his knees and leans back, grabbing your cock with one hand and bracing against the desk with the other, and slips you back inside him with a long moan of bliss. "y-you're so big..."

"don't stroke my ego," you chuckle, stroking his soft, smooth hips and thighs as you thrust hilt-deep into him, easier now that he's adjusted. "god knows it's big enough as it is."

"of course i have to. you're the – the top man." his breath hitches as your cock glides against his swollen prostate, dragging against it roughly with how tightly he's stretched around you. he swears he can follow the line of the veins when it rides against his gummy walls with a harsh thrust. "oh, fuck! baby!"

"that feel good, hm?" you murmur into his ear, the sweet decadence of it rolling over his brain like waves over the shore.

"yes," he moans, eyes rolling back as you press into him, a single shift of the angle of your hips enough to make his back arch and his mouth fall open. "yes, yes! ah, f-fuck, right there – right there, harder, don't stop..."

you know his body like the back of your hand. gripping his thighs until they dimple under your fingertips, you pull out until just the tip rests against his hole. with a snap of your hips, you bury yourself deep in his warmth, making him jerk and cry out. his cock spurts prematurely and he gnaws on his lower lip, squeezing his eyes shut to will down his budding high. his nails dig into your shoulders.

"i told you," he pants, glistening eyes raising to meet yours. "harder."

what your secretary wants, he gets.

your cock slams directly into his prostate and he gasps, whimpering softly as you set a quick, hungry pace. still unsatisfied, you push your mouth against his, tongue dipping between his lips to taste his coffee.

milk, two sugars.

he always had a sweet tooth.

his damp hair sticks to his temples, the perfect salon waves bouncing rapidly with each smack of your hips against his ass. he moans into your mouth as his cock jerks, swollen and heavy against his slim stomach. it bounces with each powerful thrust and he cries out, the sweet sound echoing in your office for anyone to hear.

he whines softly, a softer sound than he'd ever let anyone else hear. he claws at your shoulders and sides, panting against your lips and submitting to your demanding kisses with messy clouded lust. the slap of skin on skin only arouses him further and he grabs your tie in a white-knuckled grip, tugging your mouth down against his the moment it parts for air.

"close," he whimpers into the kiss, and his eyes flutter back into his skull as your cock punches the breath out of his lungs, fucking him faster, harder, deeper. he opens his eyes, half-lidded and dazed, as you sweep his hair out of his eyes, combing it back gently with your fingers.

you tug. he comes.

his velvety searing heat swallows you whole, animal in its hunger, and he digs his heels into your lower back, forcing your cock deeper in him until you have no choice but to follow him over the precipice, crashing over it like blue waves over white rock. his pleasure is engulfing, almost stifling despite his tenderness. he curls into your grasp, panting and nuzzling into the crook of your neck, and his hot, shuddering breath stirs against the fine skin of your collarbone.

when your hips slow to give him a moment of respite – surely he'd want one, you thought, barely able to eke out a gasp of your name – he instead takes the chance to chastise you.

"couldn't you have... finished... any faster?" he huffs, his chest heaving as he gulps down air between words. "you've a meeting in five minutes."

with your thoughts still lingering on the image of taehyung's bliss and the clandestine knowledge that he'd made a mess on your desk, you take a moment to respond. when you do, you're incredulous.

"wait, are you trying to keep me on schedule? now?"

"it's... it's office hours. i still have to do my job." he rolls his eyes, as if you aren't balls-deep inside of him. you remind him with a few shallow, gentle thrusts – he sucks in a shaky breath and tips his head back with a shake to let his bangs fall more comfortably over his forehead. "lord knows you're not the one keeping an eye on your timetable."

"we can talk about that later, and just reschedule that damn meeting. they'll wait for me." you press your lips to the dip just beneath his ear and he hums, lazily content. then, as if remembering that he has to play bad cop and not laze in the comfort of your touch, his eyes flutter open and his mouth thins into a straight line.

"you're making a bad habit out of this," he argues. there he is – your fiery assistant. if you looked at him now, you'd never know he'd just been making dirty videos with sultry smiles.

"the best kind of habit," you murmur, shifting your hips. his breath hitches and his grip tightens involuntarily on your shoulder, making you smirk. "don't worry, taehyung. i'll give you the rest of the day off. you need one – at least today because of me."

his frown deepens at your cheeky comment, even though his cheeks flush. "i don't take days off."

"you always say that, but what are you doing right now? working hard or hardly working?" you tease, sliding your hands up his thighs and hips.

"it's – different," he manages to gasp out, clicking his tongue when your nails drag over the veins of his messy cock. "stop that. you have a meeting, remember?"

you draw your hand back. "i was working when you sent me those videos. i seem to recall you were, too. this feels unfair."

"unfair?" he repeats. "you liked them. you always like them." he pauses. "don't you?"

"i'm not sure the other people on the train appreciate your beauty as much as i do." you kiss him and he hums, accepting your tongue into his mouth with a sigh of pleasure. "don't stop sending your videos."

"is that an order, big boy?" he whispers.

"yes, it is," you reply, and he smiles, brief and sweet. you pull out of him gently, rubbing the join between his hip and thigh soothingly as he moans softly through bitten lips. "now, you have an email to write. that meeting won't postpone itself."

he huffs, allowing you to help him down from your desk. he turns around, leaning over it to grab his laptop from the corner, and you press yourself into his back and ass, teasing your cock against his hole. the coffee he grabbed for you sits cold on the edge of your desk next to the pen holder.

"tell me what the email says," you murmur into his neck, caressing his stomach with one hand and teasing his nipples with the other.

taehyung's breath shudders as he nods, opening up the calendar and shifting the meeting to three days later. moving it a few hours means you look sloppy with your time management, and so does one day. three days looks like a choice – like you have better things to do with your time. these men don't have anyone else to go to, so they'll wait for you no matter what.

"your conference with mr ln has been moved to thursday, august twenty-first. please see attached—" he closes his eyes as your hand wraps around the base of his cock, gently squeezing. "p-please see attached a link to your updated appointment."

you shrug, peppering kisses over the freckles of his neck and shoulder. "good enough. send it."

he clicks send and closes his laptop, pushing it away as you lift him into your arms. he gasps and wraps his limbs around you, holding tight as you move him to the couch on the other side of the room. you hover over him as he pants softly, staring up at you with dark eyes and plump red lips.

"by the way, i've received message that your suit's been delivered to your home," you say with a soft smile. "you're going to outshine everyone at that stupid awards ceremony."

"you say that as if you won't like seeing me in it. you can fuck me in it in the car afterwards. you bought it, after all." his eyes glint dangerously. "maybe i'll wear a surprise under it – to celebrate your successes, of course."

you grin, filthy and boyish, and taehyung's heart flutters. "you've just made me very excited for that day. come grab coffee with me after work – we can test how much space i have in my backseat."

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platypan · 3 years

Text

A Strategic Proposal (Pt. 2)

Part 1 That night, Billy came in their rooms quietly, and didn’t immediately drape himself over the back of Steve’s chair. “I’ve been given a quest,” he said, and Steve turned to face him, fondness welling up like a geyser at Billy’s startled frown, and his clumsy, exhausted hands trying to unfasten his armor. Steve trotted closer to lift Billy’s chin for a soft kiss, and then helped him unsheathe himself from his carapace.

“What is the quest?” he asked.

“The Serpent of the Fens,” Billy said, his cheeks bunching under Steve’s hands as he smiled wide at Steve stopping to kiss his stubble.

“Oh,” Steve breathed, pressing their foreheads together. “I would come best it for you, but I’m to ride with the entourage north—”

“As if I need you,” Billy grumbled against his mouth, and Steve pulled him into a tight hug.

“I’ll miss you, next to me,” Steve realized aloud. “Be safe.”

“Will I be rewarded for my safe return?” Billy asked, laughing, and Steve lifted him off the ground with the force of his embrace.

“Fit for a king,” Steve promised, and Billy curled around him that night in bed, with Steve pulling him in closer.

When Steve returned two weeks later, hungering to get his arms around his husband, Billy had already ridden out again.

“He performed well,” Her Majesty said. She sounded a bit crisp, Steve would realize later, but in the moment he felt only pride. When Billy crawled into bed behind him two mornings later, before it was light, Steve pulled him close, kissing along his ear and jaw, and feeling him shake with exhaustion.

Billy was quiet the next morning, falling back willingly as Steve pushed him down against the bed to touch him everywhere—but strangely still, for Billy Hargrove. He hung back all day, until Steve blocked his path and reeled him in, and Billy finally relaxed in his arms, laughing.

The next morning he was gone again, and Steve stomped in to guard duty only to have his queen and his fellow knight look at his face, and burst out laughing.

“Somebody’s a storm cloud,” said Robin, and Steve sighed.

“I should thank Your Majesty for the long honeymoon,” he said, “—but I’ve gotten used to him. Here.”

“Now I’m not busy abroad,” Robin told him, “—you’ll see more of me.”

Steve nodded, honestly pleased, but his hand itched to reach over and brush Billy’s. “He was exhausted, last night,” he sighed. “If I’d known he was leaving again, I’d have got leave to join him.”

“You’re needed here,” said his queen.

Billy didn’t return for a week, and then two. Steve tried to wheedle the details of his location out of Robin, and then his queen, but both pretended ignorance until he demanded to know.

“It’s diplomacy,” Nancy said, her jaw set. “Help with a monster on the borders of Hagenton. If you go charging in, they’ll think we don’t trust them.”

“And you sent Billy?!” Steve yelled back, but Robin pushed him back out of the door.

“You do not yell at the queen,” she said, and Steve groaned, running his fingers through his hair until it was wild. Robin sighed. “I will find out where he is, and send it to your room.”

“Thanks,” he said, the fury in him still drawn up to strike, but now met with the need for gratitude. He nodded awkwardly, and stalked back to his—and Billy’s—rooms.

There was a small shape slumped against their door, which resolved itself into a squire, then, into Billy’s sister. “Max,” Steve called.

She sniffled, and threw the heavy book she was holding to thump on his foot, which let him know more than anything else that she was distraught—she had fantastic aim, as a rule. “You bastard,” she whispered.

She was also as polite as her brother. “What?” Steve asked, dropping to a crouch. “What’s happened?”

“You sent him out again,” she said thickly. “He-he nearly died, what do you—what do you want from him?! You…” Steve tried to help her up, and she smacked his hand away. “You told him you loved him,” she hissed. “He was gloating for days, why would you—”

“That was...wrong,” he admitted, sitting cross legged to face her. “I—I didn’t expect—it was—” he felt his face reddening, and squeezed the bridge of his nose. “I couldn’t have predicted Billy.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What, you...you’re saying…”

Steve waited, blinking at her.

“You didn’t know?” she breathed. “About—that he—how could you not know—”

Steve clenched his fingers in the coarse fibers of the carpet, groaning. “Do you know where he is?”

“...not exactly,” she muttered, crossing her arms.

“You know he isn’t safe,” he said, nodding, and tried to keep his jaw from clenching. He frowned over his shoulder, back down the hall. “I will ride out as soon as I know, and bring him back.”

She studied his face. “But you’re a liar,” she said hoarsely.

“I lied,” he nodded, grimacing, “—for—” he opened his mouth to say good reasons, but couldn’t make it stick. Imagining Billy’s startled smile as he opened Steve’s love letters now brought up a burning shame. “I have a lot to make up for,” he said instead, “—and I’ll bring him home.”

Max swallowed, her shoulders relaxing a little as her hands came unclenched from her trousers. “Good,” she said huskily, reaching a foot over to kick his knee.

Once she’d tromped away, her footsteps louder than knights three times her size, he dug through his wardrobe for Billy’s letters.

They were fat with layers of cheap, folded paper, and there were, he’d thought at the time, far too many—four and five a week right up until the day the contract was signed. Steve sighed, braced himself, and opened one at random.

He was treated to a bemused but detailed set of answers to questions he vaguely remembered asking. “In regards to your inquiries after my horse,” it began, and continued on with its height in hands, name (Bellerophon, Steve thought, after studying the letters in bewilderment), and favorite treat, which Steve now learned (months later) to be carrots.

Billy was funny in his letters, Steve found, his eyes stinging as he laughed at a description of Max as a toddler, climbing across the beams in the Great Hall of Hargrove House, and Billy running around underneath her, holding a large basket and yelling insults out of sheer terror.

He made reference to Steve’s life as though he knew it well, offering chicken for trade at dinners, and Steve was whirled away in his mind to the long tables at Harrow, and his dismay over kidney pie.

The next letter was less sure—Billy began with “If you find time to read this,” and continued with phrases like “I know it’s of no importance,” and “I won’t expect you to remember, but—” and Steve groaned as it dawned on him how obvious it must have been that he wasn’t reading Billy’s replies. He ran his fingers through his hair, feeling it tuft up like scrubgrass, then crossed his arms, took a deep breath, and dug further into the pile.

Eventually he found the first missives from Hargrove House, where Sir Neil Hargrove, Billy’s father, said Billy would do whatever they asked if only they’d overlook that it was Billy, and Billy had scribbled in a postscript wondering what part of him Steve had so sadly missed.

All of him, Steve thought, crumpling the letter. I missed all of him, though I didn’t know it, quite, yet. He glared at the door, paced in a circle, and then dumped an armload of letters on the bed, and collected his quill, ink, and paper. He began penning replies.

When a knock came to the door hours later, he sprang to his feet, then fell into the wardrobe as the foot he’d been sitting on gave way. His yells brought Robin in, and she snickered at his uneven walk, and showed him where Billy was on a map. Her face was solemn. “He was meeting the Hagenton guard there, to help fell a chimera. It’s killed every knight that’s fought it, so now they’re sending an army. He should be helping plan.”

“He won’t stay in the tent and plan,” Steve whispered, grabbing her hands. “I need the unicorn horn, chimeras are poisonous—”

“Hold on there,” she said, squeezing his hands.

“And the vial of phoenix tears,” he told her. “I need to go—”

She grimaced. “I will see about the horn.”

“He’s fighting a chimera,” Steve told her, his voice shaking.

“I thought your fever for him had...cooled, watching you,” she said carefully, and Steve shoved away to start pulling on his underarmor.

“It’s burning ever hotter,” he muttered. “And I hate it that I’m telling you first, I need to tell him—”

“Probably should,” she nodded, eyebrows raised.

“He’s exhausted,” Steve told his trousers, “—he has doubts about whether I...even want him to return. I need to find him before he’s…” he trailed off, pulling chainmail over his head, and Robin ran to help. “Why is there a chimera,” Steve asked her, when she pulled it down so he could see again. His voice had gone high and shaky, and she clapped his shoulder, smiling tightly.

“Go get horsed, and find him. I will meet you in the armory.”

“I’ll find him,” he nodded, feeling steadier. “I—I’ll tell him. I’ll make sure he—knows.”

She nodded, her eyes narrowed at his expression. “You’ll find him. I’ll bring the unicorn horn.”

Robin did not, in fact, return with the unicorn horn. Steve looked up from trying to saddle his anxious horse—she had caught his anxiety, and kept side-stepping just as he tried to slide straps through buckles with shaking hands—and instead of the glint of armor, there stood his queen, shivering in a tatty robe and knitted blanket. She held the unicorn horn over the stall door, and he grabbed it, taking a shuddering breath of relief.

“You shouldn’t need it,” she said, reaching in to pat his horse’s nose and hold her still. “He wasn’t to engage the chimera—”

“Why would you send him,” Steve hissed, yanking the cinch around his horse’s belly. “Why send him at all, if he—if he isn’t—” He took a deep breath instead of yelling at his queen, and tried to swallow down thoughts that Billy wasn’t a strategist, there was no reason to send him, unless. Steve took another deep breath, swallowing hard. “Why—why would…”

“It was an excuse!” she hissed back, flailing an arm so her blanket fell, and cursing as she gathered it back up. “It was near—” She cut off, and Steve waited.

“Near what,” he asked hoarsely, trying to remember the map Robin had shown him. “...it’s near his home,” he realized, feeling the tightness in his shoulders ease. “Is he—why not say he—”

“He is late,” she said, opening the stall door. “He may have encountered the chimera unintentionally, he—he may very well be in danger. I have been trying to find out—Sir Hagen is not responding—” She took a slow breath as well, rubbing the skin between her eyebrows, and he felt bouyed up to know she and Robin were helping. Steve swung up onto his horse, and she grabbed his stirrup. “Wait! Robin is assembling more knights—if he’s fighting, you’ll be little use alone—”

“She can catch up with me,” Steve said, smiling down at his queen, still regal in her favorite soft robe with the holes in the elbows. “I need to find my husband.”

He rode through the night, expecting to reach the hunting ground of the chimera just after dawn. As the sun rose in a reddish, smoky haze, it wasn’t difficult to find where the chimera had been—where the intact armor wasn’t filled with ashes alone, charred bones in melted armor lay under still-glowing craters in boulders. Steve’s eyes stung and watered from lack of sleep, the fumes, and the realization that the fallen knights were scattered, some fleeing, and armed with swords, not the spears and crossbows they’d have taken to fight a beast with fire breath. Travellers.

He resisted the urge to yell Billy’s name, tying his horse in a copse of trees and grass near the road, and trying to keep his steel boots quiet as he walked, watching for the chimera. He found claw marks, once or twice, and his heart nearly stopped at the sight of a knight skewered on the jagged stump of a burned tree, though when he ran closer, he could see the armor was too small, and the curls hanging from her crushed helmet were too gold to be Billy’s.

Steve bent to lean his hands on his knees, breathing shakily, and stuffed his handkerchief inside his helmet to wipe his eyes.

He walked by a pile of half-eaten horses and two knights, and took another few deep breaths before he stepped in close to crouch, his sight blurring, to see whether it was the armor Billy had brought with him. Steve wondered, abruptly, rubbing his eyes, whether Billy’s armor was good enough, good as the Queen’s Guard, and his lungs shuddered in his chest at the thought that Billy’s family might have pinched pennies and Steve’s husband had fought a chimera armed with some sort of—gilt tin. He leaned his face in his hands, remembering it lying around the room, and wondering why he’d never thought to take it to the castle armorer, and made sure it was the best. Steve groaned, trying to remember buckling it on, and whether it had felt oddly heavy or light, but all he could remember was buckling it wrong because Billy was smiling, and had to be kissed.

“If he’s alive, I’ll commission a figure for your chapel,” he muttered, touching the St. George inscribed on his hilt. “I’ll have Billy model. You couldn’t ask for a better model—you—he’s beautiful, he’s strong—he’s brave, he—he’ll—just keep him alive ‘til I find him, I’ll buy candles, I’ll—” he cut off as his throat closed, and he coughed. “Protect his body from harm,” Steve whispered. “Def-defend the happiness of my home from all those who may conspire to destroy it. Give me the strength of your faith and fill me with hope and with the love of God—”

He brushed the ashes and blood away, and didn’t recognize the armor. “...amen.” His whole body trembled, a bit, with relief, and he stood slowly, letting himself mumble the prayer again and again, since St. George himself seemed to be listening. His sword started to glow.

The road seemed as good a place to look as any, and Steve wished Robin would hurry and help him search, wondering how many miles of wreckage he’d have to kick through, and how long Billy had, even with the intercession of Steve’s patron saint. “I will never ask for anything again,” he whispered at the sky, as loudly as he dared.

As he crept along the road, he heard a soft cry, and found one of the Hagenton knights, her leg charred off at the thigh. “Help is coming,” Steve told her, helping her drink a few swallows of water. She nodded, weakly punching the air, and he tied his handkerchief to the tree she huddled under, in view of the road. “Have you seen...anyone else,” he asked, swallowing, and she squinted, her eyes not quite tracking his face.

“Routed,” she rasped. “We were routed.”

“Thank you,” he told her politely, his voice thick, and she squeezed his hand, trying to sit up.

“Some...ran,” she said, her breath rattling as she tried to focus on his face. “May-maybe they survived.”

Billy would not have fled, leaving the others behind to die, he wanted to say, but she was pressing his hands, the white of a rib sticking out of her crushed armor as she tried to touch his face, so he just nodded, helping her ease back against the tree. “Thank you,” he said again, and again, “Help is coming.” He hoped for her sake and his own that they made it in time.

He kept up a series of pleas to St. George, as well as some gentle chiding—it would be much easier, after all, for Billy to stay alive if Steve’s saint was any help at all in finding him, but praying with his eyes closed didn’t give Steve the urge to walk in any particular direction, and he opened them again, rather than fail everything entirely by breaking his ankle by falling into a ditch. “Protect his body from harm,” he whispered. “Defend the happiness of my home from all who may conspire to destroy it.”

His heart thudded in his chest when he saw the curled gilt of Billy’s showy armor on a shape lying crumpled in the underbrush. “Billy,” he muttered, scrambling over the crumbling stone wall at the edge of the road, and running to his husband’s limp form. He yanked the helm up, crouching to see Billy’s wide eyes, hazy and flicking around under the pale, sweaty skin of his forehead. Steam wafted from under his armor, and out of his mouth, and Steve yanked at the wrapping on the unicorn horn, hissing, “Billy.”

“Harrington,” Billy whispered.

“William Hargrove,” Steve said back, wiping his eyes, as he tried to unknot the ceremonial bindings. “Thank you, St. George,” he mumbled, hoping the sincerity made up for the lack of formality. “I’ll get you those candles—”

“I’m dying,” Billy said, oddly forthright.

“No,” Steve hissed, yanking the knots free. “No, you’re alive, I’m here to save you.”

“You can marry someone else now,” Billy laughed unsteadily, and Steve yanked at his husband’s gauntlets, trying to find somewhere he could press the horn against greyish, steaming skin. His veins were black.

“I don’t want to marry someone else,” Steve hissed, “—I want to be married to you,” he said, fighting with the buckles on Billy’s left gauntlet, and squeezing Billy’s unnaturally hot fingers around the gleaming unicorn horn. “Hold this,” he whispered, taking a shaky breath as it glowed and pulsed against Billy’s skin, and his palm turned pinkish again. “Protect him from harm,” Steve whispered again, squeezing the horn so hard against Billy’s skin that his knuckles went white.

“I’m about to turn to ash,” Billy laughed again, tears evaporating into bursts of steam as they slid from the corners of his eyes. “May I touch you?” He pushed the horn away, trying to reach for Steve’s face, and Steve scrabbled for the rolling iridescent spiral and clapped it back in Billy’s hand, sniffling, laughing and grabbing his surcoat to wipe his eyes and nose.

“You’re touching me, you are,” Steve yelped. He held Billy’s hand around the horn, reaching his other arm around to try and unbuckle his husband’s helmet. “You won’t turn to ash,” he hissed. “I won’t let you—Billy, is the chimera dead?”

Billy’s eyes widened, and he tried to push himself up. “Wounded it,” he gasped, as Steve pushed him back down.

“Do you know which way it went, m-my love?” Steve asked, feeling awkward, but Billy went still.

“Oh,” he whispered, his eyes fixed on Steve’s face.

“I love you,” Steve said again, leaning close to see Billy’s expression through the slit where his helm lifted. “Where is the chimera?”

“I died,” Billy whispered, frowning.

“Knight of my heart,” Steve hissed, “You’re not dead. I followed you—where is the beast that felled you?”

“I thought there would be more pain,” Billy mumbled, “—turning to ash,” and Steve groaned, grabbing his husband’s helmet and pressing a kiss to it.

“Shut your mouth, idiot,” he told Billy, pushing himself up to a crouch so he could still hold Billy’s hand around the horn, and watch for the chimera. “You’re alive, and I love you—of course I would love you, you—”

“I can feel your hand,” Billy mumbled some more, sounding aggrieved.

“Yes,” Steve told him, sighing and biting back a smile, “—because I’m saving you, idiot. You can’t die, I replied to all your letters.”

“...my letters?”

“I missed you sliding your hand around my cock all night,” Steve rolled his eyes, feeling his cheeks flush, “—so I read all your letters.”

“Burn them,” Billy whispered.

“They were very interesting,” Steve told him, grinning, and taking a shaky breath at the sight of the pinkish glow showing through the join at Billy’s neck. He squeezed his husband’s hand. “I brought your horse carrots. Now I know her favorite treat.”

“I hope she’s alive,” Billy sighed. “Do you think if we’re both dead, I’ll see her again?”

“You aren’t dead,” Steve growled, banging his free hand on Billy’s armor.

“I don’t mind,” Billy said. “It’s good here.”

Steve thought, biting his lips together. “...I don’t love you.”

“Ah,” Billy sighed. “And I hurt. I am alive, then.”

“Ha!” Steve grinned, leaning in to try and kiss him, again, and having to kiss his helmet. “But I do love you!”

Billy opened his mouth, and closed it again, looking both bewildered and annoyed.

“I would have told you before you rode out,” Steve told him, raising the hand he was pressing the unicorn horn to and kissing it, “—but you rode out while I slept.”

“...you love your queen,” Billy mumbled.

“I love my husband more,” Steve told him, feeling a little awkward at the thought his saint was listening, but sure a saint would understand that Billy needed to hear it. He sent up a silent apology as he reached into Billy’s helmet and pressed a finger over his mouth. “I—it isn’t only—” he bit his lips, thinking, with Billy’s eyes fixed on his face. “You aren’t only my best friend, and—and the person I—I want to show things. Tell things to, talk about—I—I miss you,” he whispered, “—I miss you when you—when you’re on the other side of the room, I…”

Steve trailed off, staring in horror at the tears trailing down Billy’s cheeks. “I love you,” he tried, and Billy made a choking noise. “I’m sorry,” Steve said, watching his husband cry, and yanking at his armor to try and see whether the unicorn horn was working, or whether he was talking like an idiot while his husband died.

“Don’t stop,” Billy told him, laughing as Steve shoved his fingers in every cranny in his husband’s armor, feeling for unnatural heat.

“Protect his body from harm,” Steve hissed around the lump in his throat, wondering whether St. George had stopped paying attention. “Defend the happiness of my home from those—”

“I am well,” Billy told him, grabbing both Steve’s hands away from their frantic prodding. “I am safe, I am well—”

“You are crying—” Steve informed him, feeling his own eyes welling up at the thought that it hadn’t worked, he’d been too late, he’d failed. He’d arrived just in time to tell the truth, and maybe that was all his saint could do, he realized, and he cleared his throat. “I love you,” he said hoarsely, “I—I’m sorry I didn’t know sooner, I—would have told you—”

“Stop,” Billy said, too loud, yanking at the ties on his helmet, and pulling Steve down against him in a clash of denting armor. “I am well, I am saved. Why are you here,” he whispered between kisses, and Steve tried to remember the living chimera wandering about somewhere.

“Had to tell you I loved you,” he panted, still trying not to bawl himself. He rubbed his thumb up and down Billy’s cheek, salt-smeared from his tears, and the sweat from the heat of the chimera’s poison. It felt warm, but nothing like the heat of before, and Steve took a shuddering breath.

“An urgent missive from the queen,” Billy whispered, smiling down at where their hands were still locked around the unicorn horn. “...is...is this a national treasure?”

“Yes you are,” said Steve, hoarsely, feeling clever, and Billy started laughing until he choked, then groaned as he rested his head against Steve’s chestplate. “You need to drink some water, I think,” Steve whispered into his husband’s curls, and Billy hummed, squirming closer. “You taste like you lived on nothing but whiskey for the last fortnight,” Steve coaxed, and Billy started laughing again, shaking in Steve’s arms. “Can you stand?” Steve asked, wiping his eyes and nose, and kissing his husband’s hair. Thank you, St. George, he prayed silently. Please help me get him home.

In the distance came the shriek of the beast.

They both listened, and Billy flushed, smiling down as Steve’s hand tightened on his wrist.

Billy sighed. “It drug people away. They might…”

Steve frowned, sliding his hand up the back of Billy’s head and pulling him into another kiss. “They might be someone’s Billy Hargrove,” he said, nodding, and Billy’s eyes widened as he turned inexplicably red. Steve checked that the unicorn horn was against his husband’s skin again, worried about the heat, but Billy smacked his hands away like Steve was being unreasonable, pulling him into a tight embrace.

“...it worked,” he whispered in Steve’s ear. “I was gray as ashes, remember? I am tired, and...” he swallowed, trailing off as Steve frowned into his face.

“Keep the horn against your skin,” Steve told him, with the narrowed eyes of one expecting to be obeyed.

“I will,” Billy said, smiling. “Only because my husband is worried.”

“Of course I’m worried,” Steve hissed. “I have to get you back to our bed. I have to—I have to commission you better armor—”

“Armor,” Billy blinked. “My armor is—”

“You were poisoned—”

“Its breath is—”

“Maybe I can convince Her Majesty I’ll fall ill if she sends you away again,” Steve mumbled over him. “It happens in ballads, lovers pining—”

Billy started laughing again and crying, and Steve grabbed his shoulders, wondering whether his actions had driven his husband mad. “...let us search,” Billy wheezed, wiping his eyes. “So you may carry me back to our bed.”

“Yes,” Steve nodded, ignoring Billy snickering again. Sorry, St. George, he thought, for talking about beds. Then it occured to him that St. George might have had a Billy as well, and he just prayed,—and thank you. Again. As they walked, he continued to update the saint with as we’re still looking for the chimera, we could use some more help, and could you look for Billy’s horse, and you probably know what we’re doing, from up there, do I need to tell you?

“Do you believe me yet?” Steve asked, and then as Billy grinned at him and stumbled over a charred tree limb, and Steve grabbed his arm, “—not about the bed. Of course I want you in bed, anyone would want you in bed—stop laughing.”

“This is a very strange day,” Billy told him, sighing, and leaning into his side. “I think I...will believe you, but…” he shrugged his shoulders, and Steve nodded, thinking.

“I woke yesterday morning, and I was glad,” Steve said, clearing his throat as they walked north, following the trail of smoking, empty armor and the ever-heavier ash filling their throats and lungs. “I don’t like waking up,” he continued.

“No one does,” Billy put in.

“But I did,” Steve told him. “I smiled before I opened my eyes. I thought I would roll over, and you’d be there, and when I put my arm around you, you’d lean against me, and I’d smell your hair.”

Billy burst out laughing so loudly Steve shushed him, feeling wrong-footed, and wishing he could speak properly and be clear, but Billy dropped into a crouch, hiding his face, and Steve forgot his frustration leaning over him.

“I’m sorry I’m doing this wrong,” Steve whispered. “I thought—I thought you should...know.”

“I love you so much,” Billy whispered back. “So much, I can’t—I can’t even—I can’t—”

“You can’t...believe me?” Steve asked, crouching to try and lean to see Billy’s face.

“I—I’ll try,” Billy said huskily, and Steve nodded, leaning to kiss his husband’s exposed ear.

“I will keep telling you,” Steve told him, “—until you’re sick of it. I told St. George it was important you knew, and if you were alive, I’d never stop telling you—”

“You don’t even go to church—” Billy sniffled, and Steve shrugged, pulling him around for a kiss.

“I think St. George would rather I kept fighting monsters and telling you I love you,” he said, licking his lips, and Billy cried in earnest while Steve kissed him for hopefully not the last time, and busied himself putting both their helmets back on.

#harringrove #knights in love #fake marriage au #Silliness for troubling times

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petitelepus · 3 years

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25 Days of MTMTE Christmas, Part 25, Christmas Sweater

It’s Christmas Eve on Lost Light and everyone is all dressed up.

Merry Christmas everyone! I understand that this has been a hectic year and there are people who can’t celebrate Christmas like they would like to because of the Coronavirus so I hope that ‘25 Days of MTMTE Christmas’ has been lightening your dark nights and made you smile even the tiniest bit.

I want to thank my beloved friend @missykitty! She read every single chapter and edited them, gave me inspiration, corrected my spelling and choice of words because English isn’t my first language or even second. She made this story possible.

I want to also thank you all for reading and enjoying my stories. I write to bring joy to people and I have been extra diligent this year. I wish you all Merry Christmas and thank you for being so strong.

You loved the holidays! You always had. Christmas was the time of joy and celebration with loved ones. The exact things that you were missing from Earth. Here in space, in a whole other galaxy, you had found a new family. Your found family made sure that you had everything you ever needed or desired, and you loved them back with your whole heart. But none of them celebrated Christmas, so you felt lonesome and nostalgic for your Christmas traditions. You rode your hover scooter through the empty halls before arriving at the mess hall for dinner. It was a bit depressing that your Christmas dinner would be the same as any other day. You were shocked out of your thoughts when you realized that the mess hall was deserted. Where was everyone? You looked around in confusion. Usually, the hall would be filled with hungry Autobots around the clock, but now the place looked abandoned. You felt even more depressed at the thought of eating your Christmas dinner all alone. You despondently made your way to your usual spot. Your eyes widened in surprise at the sight of a handwritten note on the table. 'Come to the meeting room!' They didn’t forget about you after all! Aww, how sweet they were. You were curious about what they had planned for today. You couldn't help but smile excitedly as you picked up the note and left to go where you were instructed. You arrived at the door. You could hear voices coming from inside. Was everyone there just waiting for you? You smiled to yourself. You left your scooter at the side of the door, and pressed the buzzer. The voices inside halted instantly. You put in the code and entered. You were surprised to see that it was pitch black in the room. You clapped your hands to activate the lights. What you saw took your breath away. "Merry Christmas!" Everybody cheered. You were stunned at the sight. You were expecting to see your Cybertronian friends, but instead the room was filled with humans. Humans you didn't know. You weren't that good with people back on Earth, so just how bad you were going to be with them in space? You were about to bolt, but this short stocky man approached you. He was wearing blue shield-style sunglasses. Oh God, he had a Christmas sweater on. A bright red sweater that read 'He Sees You When You're Drinking' in white bold letters. You stared at his sweater. You absolutely adored so-called ‘Ugly Christmas Sweaters’. You didn't even know why for sure, but they were funny and quirky. You made it a tradition to check secondhand stores for rejected Christmas sweaters. When you were younger, you were teased for wearing them. Then they became popular, and even your former bullies started wearing them to ‘Ugly Christmas Sweater’ parties. You were annoyed about that, but at least now you could share your love of tacky things with others. "Hi, yes, we are happy you made it!" The man said happily in a voice you knew. You blinked. "Swerve, is that you?" "Yeah, it's me! Everyone is here also!" He said happily. He stepped closer to you. "It was mine and Rewind's idea to use our human avatars to make you feel at home. How do you like it?" Well, you were speechless and taken aback at how sweet their intentions were. You smiled and were about to answer the bartender, but then your eyes landed on him. "OhmyGod!OhmyGod! Oh! My! God!" You squealed. You quickly covered your mouth when you realized just how loud you were being. "I can't, I just can't...!" "What?? What is it?!" Swerve asked in a panic, fearing that he and others had messed up somehow and offended you. But you didn't respond. You ran straight to this tall woman wearing a beautiful purple Victorian-style dress. But it wasn't her you were squealing for. It was a toddler wearing a blue polar bear sweater with an actual crystal blue pacifier clipped to the material. The little guy even had blue sunglasses similar to Swerve’s. "E-Excuse me, Ma’am, bu-but could I hold your baby?" You asked barely keeping your composure as you looked at the little guy. The woman smiled slightly, and… Oh no, she was hot. She lifted the toddler out of the baby carrier on her chest, and offered him to you. "Hold him carefully,” she said.

You nodded as you took the toddler from her arms and pulled him close.

"Oh my God, you're so cute! Where have you been hiding all my life, you little cutie pie?"

Okay, you were totally baby-talking to the cutest child you may have ever seen. Your voice had probably raised an octave, and you weren’t worried about controlling the volume of your voice anymore. Maybe you sounded ridiculous, but your heart was mush and you had no shame.

"I'm not a baby, or whatever it is!" The child suddenly exclaimed. You blinked in surprise. You looked at the child carefully, and saw a light blue ‘T’ on the child's adorable sailor hat. And that voice...!

"Tailgate? Is that you?" You asked.

The child nodded. "Yes!"

"Oh, Tailgate..." You sighed in joyful surprise. Then you smiled even wider before hugging the mini-human. "You're so freaking cute!"

"Nooo…! I'm ferocious!" Tailgate cried.

You turned to look at the tall woman that had been holding Tailgate before. "Cyclonus?"

"That would be me,” she, no, he said. "You look amazing,” you said. "Thank you." You gave Tailgate back to Cyclonus, then turned to gaze at the rest of the holoforms mingling in the room. One by one, you recognized familiar features in these human forms. You jumped over to a tall young man, with a dark flame tattooed arm, wild auburn hair, and a handsome smile. He was wearing a short-sleeved sweater that read 'You Can Get On My Naughty List Anytime'. You grinned. "Rodimus! You look great! Very hot!" You joked, winking at him. "I know.” You giggled as Rodimus licked the tip of his digit and then pressed it to his hip, making a hissing noise. You turned to see a young lady wearing a dark blue sweater with so much text on it that you had to squint to see what was written there. 'Santa Saw Your Facebook Pictures, You're Getting Clothes And A Bible For Christmas'. Ouch. Only one mech would approve of a shirt like that. "Ultra Magnus, sir? Is that you?" You asked. The woman holoform nodded. You grinned and pointed at his sweater. "That sweater looks good on you." "Thank you. Although, I have no clue what this ‘Facebook’ is. I presume that it's a device or program that keeps records of criminals and persons of interest. That sounds like a good idea to me." You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing. Instead, you clapped. "Wonderful sweater. Truly." You moved on to the next mech and--Oh! Who was this big silver fox standing before you, tall and proud in a sweater that had 'Naughty' and 'Nice' with checkboxes in front of each… but the checkbox in front of 'I Tried' was the one that was check-marked. You barely paid any attention to the text, rather watching how the sweater was stretched across his broad chest and muscled biceps... "It's Megatron,” Rodimus butted in from behind you. You nodded mindlessly, almost in a trance as you ogled the former criminal. DAMN! IT SHOULD BE ILLEGAL TO BE THAT SEXY. The old man sighed, misinterpreting your look. "I was persuaded to use my avatar, and get some kind of ugly clothing that humans wear." "Megatron...! Wow…” you said, blinking like a deer in headlights. "Like WOW." "Yeah, yeah, we get it. So he is handsome for a human! So what!" Someone yelled. You glanced over your shoulder, and saw the most badass looking teen girl you had ever seen. She had long blue hair in pigtails, and an eyepatch over the left eye... "Whirl?!" You accidentally shouted. The girl, no, Whirl stopped pushing you away from Megatron. He struck a pose to show off to you. "Yeah, it is I, fleshie. Admit it - I look badass,” he said. You took in his dark blue sweater that read: 'Dear Santa, Define Naughty'. "I had spiked knee guards also, but Magnus said they were too much,” Whirl complained. You snorted. "What a tragedy." Whirl said some colorful words to you, but you laughed it off. You turned away, and came face-to-face with two men, one tall and dark-haired, and the other short and blond. You blinked and tilted your head, wondering who they could be. Then you noticed the camera in the blond man's hands. "Rewind! And Chromedome!" You exclaimed. They smiled at you in response. "How did you figure it out?" Chromedome asked. "Rewind's camera. Also, your matching sweaters." You laughed and pointed at their sweaters. Chromedome's said 'World's Okayest Elf' and Rewind's read 'I'm Not Short I'm Just A Tall Elf'. You smiled at them before moving through the crowd again, until you saw a man with glasses and carrot-red hair. He was certainly smart looking. You knew a few smart mechs, but you were sure you knew which one this was. "Rung! You look amazing!" The distinguished-looking man before you smiled and confirmed your guess to be right. Honestly? You would tap that ass. His sweater read: 'Santa Loves A Hot Cookie'. You giggled lightly. Then you noticed two smokin’ hot ladies that you recognized as Nautica and Velocity, and two hot men talking with them, likely Brainstorm and Perceptor. Nautica's sweater was bright purple and read: 'But First Let Me Take An #elfie'. Velocity's had a cat on it and read: 'Happy Hannukkat'. Brainstorm’s read: 'Santa Is Real In At Least 370 Alternate Realities'. And Perceptor...! Oh, Percy must have lost a bet or something, because he had a sweater that read: 'I Am Your Present', and there was an arrow that happened to be pointing at Brainstorm at any given moment. Finally, the last pair. You smiled when you saw them. Drift was a handsome young man with ink black hair. Ratchet was a scruffy-bearded man whose hair and beard were red streaked with white. Drift was wearing a sweater that said: 'While You Were Decorating The House I Studied The Blade'. Ratchet's sweater had a huge picture of Grumpy Cat that simply said 'NO'. You slowly made your way through the crowded room, making sure to say hello to everybot present. Besides being polite, you just had to check out all of the ‘Ugly Christmas Sweaters’. They were all amazing! You had never seen so many ‘Ugly Christmas Sweaters’ in one place! More than that, they all had been thinking about you, and how you might be missing human company. Just seeing them all gathered together made you feel like you were back on Earth for Christmas, surrounded by family and friends. You nearly cried at the thought. "Um, can I have everyone's attention?" You said, trying to raise your voice loud enough to fill the room. Every bot in a human disguise turned to look at you. You coughed awkwardly into your fist, then smiled tremulously, trying not to cry. "I just wanted to thank you all. For the amazing surprise. I love all of your sweaters – you all look great. You all are like a family to me, and I hope you feel the same way." Everyone cheered loudly. You blushed in embarrassment, but then Swerve rushed up to you, with Rung following closely behind in a more subdued manner. You smiled at both of them. "Thank you so much, you guys. I couldn't dream of a better surprise." "Oh, but this is just the beginning," Rung said with a mysterious smile. You blinked in confusion. "What?" "We just needed to buy some time while Lug and Anode finished at my place!" Swerve said. Lug and Anode…! You hadn’t seen them here at all! How could you have forgotten them?! Then Swerve took your hand in his to lead you to the next surprise. Everyone followed behind, laughing and whispering behind your back. When you entered Swerve’s, you could barely believe what you saw. Christmas decorations everywhere, gleaming and shining! You could even smell something delicious wafting in the air. "Don't tell me you cooked?" You asked in shocked disbelief. Just as you finished speaking, Lug and Anode came from the bar's backroom with their servos holding trays heaped with different Earth foods traditional for Christmas. There were also energon treats for your Cybertronian friends. Just when you were sure the party couldn't get any better, somebody put Christmas music on to play. You turned to look at the bots standing all around you. "Is it-Is it okay to eat?" Everyone gave you a clear go-ahead, so you began to take helpings of everything so as not to disappoint any of your friends that had worked so hard. Surprisingly, they had nailed it for most of the foods. Though the cranberry sauce was accidentally made with cherries, and the chocolate mousse was too sweet, they were still delicious. When you couldn’t eat any more, you thought that the good time would end there… but you thought wrong. Somehow Swerve had gotten his servos on the Cybertronian equivalent of a karaoke machine. Brainstorm and Perceptor had its files updated with all of the top hits from Earth. There were over 1,000 songs per country, so you had an overwhelming number of options. Some Christmas songs, both classic and new, were included as well. To start, Rodimus rocked the song 'The Phoenix' by Fall Out Boy. With that magnificent show of talent, charisma, and showmanship, others were then itching to get a turn of their own. Nautica, Velocity, and Rewind sang 'Bubblegum Bitch' together. Ultra Magnus sang 'It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas'. You insisted on singing a song called 'Do It For Her/Him' from Steven Universe with Cyclonus. The purple mech thought it was silly to sing a song from a human cartoon, but when he sang, he gave Tailgate meaningful looks. And you? You might have winked Megatron's way a couple of times. You were really enjoying yourself - the party was amazing. It was everything that you could have hoped for. Nothing could top this. Or so you thought, until you were asked to close your eyes and hold your arms out. "Guys, you aren't going to prank me, or do anything to me that will end up on Youtube??" You asked nervously. You heard a snicker from Rewind. "Don't worry! We won't!" "I can hear that camera rolling, Rewind!" You snapped. You jumped when something was placed in your hands. "Open your eyes." You opened one eye at first, then the other. You couldn't believe it. It was a sweater, unbelievingly soft, knitted in your favorite colors. Even better, in the middle of the oversized sweater was a large red Autobot symbol. You stared at it, eyes wide. When you finally raised your head, you had tears in your eyes. "Y-You're giving this to me?" "We had to pull some strings, and call in some favors, but yes." Rodimus smiled as bright as the sun from back home. "You're officially an Autobot now." You couldn't hold back your tears anymore. There was no greater honor than to be admitted to the Autobot order. You started to cry, but the tears were those of pure joy. You sniffled and wiped your face before looking at your dear friends. "C-Can I put it on?" They nodded, and you wasted no time. You pulled the sweater over your head, and then smoothed down your hair. The sweater was a few sizes bigger than your usual size, but that only made it comfier. You smiled, and almost wiped your nose on the sleeve, but you stopped yourself and instead used a napkin. "It's both the ugliest pretty sweater and the prettiest ugly sweater I have ever seen. I love it,” you admitted, your voice wobbly. Your fellow Autobots all said ‘Awww!’ at your emotional display. You opened your arms wide and waiting, and the bots got the idea. They all closed in for a group hug, lifting you off of your feet. You were surrounded by those you loved dearly, and you didn’t regret leaving Earth for a second. "Merry Christmas!" You all cheered, echoing each other.

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freddiesaysalright · 4 years

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Tale as Old as Time - Chapter 3

Rami!Prince Adam x Reader

Summary: A prince cursed. A young woman aching for adventure. The classic tale of seeing beauty within.

Word Count: 4k

Tag List: @psychosupernatural, @someone-get-a-medic, @bensrhapsody, @deakyclicks, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession, @minigranger, @crazyweirdocalledfriday, @the-moving-finger-writes, @assembledherethevolunteers, @rose-writes-prose, @queenlover05, @26-7-49, @drowsebaby, @im-an-adult-ish, @xviiarez, @rogerina-owns-me, @brianssixpence, @mirkwoodshewolf, @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: But she won’t discoooover that it’s him! til chapter threeeeeeee :)

Warning(s): Mentions of homophobia

Moodboard

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Chapter 3 here we go!!!

Just learning Rami’s name was a breakthrough. Two weeks passed peacefully at the castle. Though you were still wary of him, you trusted that he would not lash out unprovoked. You just wanted to learn what provoked him.

But the more you spoke to Rami, the more you understood that his anger came from a place of deep hurt. It wasn’t an aggression he came by naturally. His usual disposition was actually rather awkward. At times, even amusingly so. It was obvious to you that he had not interacted with anyone outside of his staff in many years.

Even so, you kept your guard up. You continued to search for the prince all around the castle, but there was no sign of him. Although, after getting to know Rami, you found it hard to believe that he had ever really harmed anyone. Sure, he could be unreasonable about things, but you didn’t think he was dangerous. There was only one place you hadn’t looked. The west wing.

Your curious mind was desperate to find out what was up there. But your logical side reminded you that it was best to not test the limits of Rami’s patience. He could easily put you back in the dungeon if he felt like it. On the other hand, it could hold all the answers to your questions. Putting it all to the back of your mind, you went down to the vegetable patch to help Daisy.

Daisy was another mystery to you. She was the only servant who had come to the castle after the deaths of the king and queen. You bonded with her because she was the only other person there your age - since you couldn’t be sure how old Rami was - and you had fun together. You wondered what brought her to the castle.

“Daisy,” you said. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” she replied, brushing some dirt off a carrot.

“How did you end up here?” you questioned. “You’re young and talented. How come you’ve committed yourself to serving Rami and a near empty castle?”

She placed the carrot in her basket and looked down.

“The master is a complicated person,” she said. “I don’t know all the details of his past - and I don’t need to - but he understood me.”

“Understood you?” you pressed.

She nodded. “In my home village, I…”

“You what?”

She met your gaze. “I fell in love. And I was driven out.”

“What?” you gasped. “For falling in love?! That’s ridiculous!”

“Well, the thing is…” she trailed off. “We’re friends, right?”

“Of course we are,” you said, brow furrowing. “What is it?”

“Just - swear to me you’ll never tell anyone what I’m telling you,” she said.

“I swear,” you promised.

She took a deep breath. “I fell in love with another woman.”

Your eyes went wide. “R-really?”

She nodded again. “The people of my village saw it as something evil. My mother told us there was a plan to have us arrested and tried as witches, so she packed us some things to smuggle us out.”

“I’m so sorry,” you told her. “That’s horrible. How could they punish you for loving someone?”

“I don’t know,” she said, eyes watering. “I still don’t understand. But the night before we knew they were coming, we arranged to leave. We planned to meet in the woods just before midnight and escape together.”

“Your lover, did she abandon you?” you asked.

She shook her head. “No. My father told the village about our plan, so they got her. All I could do was run for my life. I ran till I had nothing left in me. It was the master that found me in the woods. He brought me back here and had Mrs. Carson tend to me. The plan was to send me off afterwards, but then I told him my story. As an extra, I told him I could cook and would serve as a kitchen maid if he’d let me. He said they had no cook, he understood what it meant to be seen as something you’re not, and then gave me the job. I didn’t ask no more questions after that.”

You blinked, completely shocked. How could Rami be so understanding of someone like Daisy, but so irrationally angry over a rose clipping? You had to find out the truth about him. And you needed to find out as soon as possible.

“I’m glad you found a place to belong, Daisy,” you told her. “Um, I’m going in for a little while. I’d like to get some rest before dinner. Is that alright?”

She looked at the ground. “You see me differently, don’t you?”

“What? No!” you cried, pulling her into a hug. “Of course not. You’re still my friend.”

You pulled away and she forced a smile.

“I believe you,” she said, cheerful now. “Now, go get some rest. I’ll figure out dinner.”

You nodded. As you entered the kitchen, you removed your apron and started up the stairs. You jogged through the corridors, heading the opposite direction of your bedroom. You were going to the west wing.

When you climbed the steps, you hesitated. There was a door there that loomed ahead like a dark tunnel. Once you entered, it would be difficult to return. And if you found out that Rami was the cause of the deaths of the royal family, what would you do? Go back on your word? Risk re-imprisoning your father?

You took a deep breath. You had to know. With a shaking hand, you reached for the door knob. It turned with a click, and then the door swung open with a creak. Then, you stepped into the west wing.

It was much like the rest of the castle. It just felt different because you knew you weren’t supposed to be there. You briefly worried that Rami might find you. You had not seen him yet today, and that usually meant he was up in his room somewhere. His room was within the west wing.

You stopped at the first door that appeared on the right. It was locked. You moved on to the room across the hall. It was open, although dark except for the sun peeking through the window. It faced the north though, so it was still dim.

It appeared to be a bedroom, but it wasn’t grand enough to belong to any of the family. You guessed that it served as a guest room for when other members of that class came to stay. That had evidently not occurred in many years.

Dust covered most of the furniture. There was a desk in the corner, so you decided that was the best place to start. Any records would be in there. You opened the top drawer and sifted through the leafs of paper, but nothing was promising. Until you got to the last one.

It was a letter. The addressee was a Lady Marietta, which you didn’t recognize, but clearly it had never been sent. It wasn’t sealed.

You picked up the letter. It was in beautiful, scrawling cursive that you were certain a woman had written. With one more glance around, you carefully lifted the envelope flap and tugged the parchment out. You unfolded the letter and began to read.

“Dear Marietta,” it began. “It is wonderful to hear from you! I’m glad to know you and your family are well. The king and I are so thrilled to hear of your pregnancy! Perhaps if it’s a girl, we can introduce her to Prince Rami…”

You stopped reading. Prince. Rami. Prince Rami. Your heart rate accelerated so quickly you felt you had just run a one hundred meter dash. Rami was the prince? How could it be? He was a beast!

You jumped when you heard a dull thud and a hiss of pain come from the window. A second voice followed shortly after. The only other person allowed in the west wing was Rami. If there were other people there, they were not the household staff. And they were not you. Thinking it might be some villagers sent by your father, you went to investigate.

Crouching low you slunk towards the noise. You hid behind an old dresser and peered around the edge. Two men were standing just inside the window, dressed in dark clothing and looking around as they brushed some dirt from their trousers.

“Do you really think there’s anything of value here?” one wondered.

“I dunno,” the second one said. “But the royal family lived here. There’s bound to be jewels and stuff somewhere.”

“Unless others got here first, “complained the first one. “It’s been almost thirteen years since the king and queen were killed.”

“Even their old clothes are worth something,” insisted the second. “Let’s just take a look around. It’s not like anybody’s here.”

Fear turned your stomach. Robbers! You had to warn Rami. You started to get to your feet, only you banged your head into the top drawer of the dresser, which was hanging open. The wood smacked together, and you bit back a squeak as a bump started to form on your scalp. Eyes watering and head throbbing, you stilled, hoping against hope that they had not heard you. Judging by their acute silence, they had.

“Who’s there?” called the second one.

“Are you certain it’s a person?” questioned the first. “There’s rumors about this place being haunted.”

“Don’t be stupid,” said the second. “Those are just stories for children.”

You closed your mouth to quiet your breathing. You listened closely to the sound of their footsteps approaching. Your mind went wild with solutions. You could run, but they would catch you. You couldn’t fight two men all on your own. And you couldn’t exactly call for anyone since there was no guarantee that anybody was nearby. Just when you were going to make a break for it, a face appeared beside you. It was the second robber.

“Well, well, well,” he sneered. “What do we have here?”

You trembled as the other took his place in front of you. Their menacing laughter made you shrink back.

“R-Rami…” you began shakily. Then you screamed. “RAMI!”

Rami was in his bedroom, looking at a key in his paw. It was the key to the library. He was considering giving it to you since you told him about how much you loved books. That way, you could be more comfortable here. His only hesitation was that it felt like a betrayal to his mother. That was her safe haven as well, and he wanted to preserve it. He set the key down on his desk, deciding he would ask Mrs. Carson about it.

Beside the key was the mirror the enchantress gave him all those years ago. It was his one window to the outside world. With it, he could see anyone he wanted, just by asking. For years, he tried to use it to find the enchantress herself, but it never worked. So it mostly collected dust. On a whim, he picked it up.

“Show me Y/N,” he said.

The glass began to glow, bright and blinding for a fleeting moment. Then, the picture took shape. You were walking through the west wing, and exploring a guest room that his mother had used as her study.

He flared up, prepared to march down the stairs and scold you, but another movement caught his eye. You were not alone. Then, through the mirror and from the hall, he heard you cry out for him. He dropped the mirror onto the desk and hurtled out of the room.

He ran toward the guest room. When he was first transformed, he was alarmed by the speed he had, especially on all fours. He was also surprisingly agile, and now that he was used to this body, moving swiftly and securely was as natural to him as breathing. Only, he wasn’t going to bother being quiet now.

One of the robbers took hold of your arm and you struggled against him. His grip was like iron, though, and as much as you tried to wrench away, he had a firm hold on you. He clapped a hand over your mouth to keep you from crying out again.

“Quiet, you!” he warned, while the partner flashed a knife. “Or we might silence you permanently!”

You screamed into his hand and wriggled some more, to no avail. Then, the door burst open and a ferocious roar rang out. It shook the dresser that was now beside you. The robber dropped your arm, but it was right as you pulled away, so you toppled over.

“W-what is that thing?” the first robber stammered.

“I don’t know, but we should be rid of it,” the second said firmly, snatching the knife from him and brandishing it.

Rami fearlessly bounded over with a threatening growl, and the men quickly realized the size of the animal they were challenging. Only, Rami was no animal. He grabbed the first one around the throat so quickly you might have missed it had you blinked. His grip was steady, but he could clearly still breathe.

“Don’t kill me!” the man begged.

Rami started to answer, but just as he opened his mouth, the second robber slashed his arm. Rami howled and dropped the first one, who scrambled away. Blood seeped into Rami’s fur. He gathered himself and then rose up to his full height. With a fierce growl, he snatched up the man with the knife by his arm, forcing him to drop the weapon. It clattered to the floor and you grabbed it.

The first man saw that they were now without a weapon. He looked to his partner.

“I’m out of here,” he said, and he took off back through the window.

The second man was more persistent, struggling to get free, as you were doing just moments ago. Then, Rami grabbed him around the neck and dragged him to the window. Then, he held the man up so they were face to face.

“Get. Out,” Rami warned with a growl.

The man stopped struggling.

“O-okay,” he stuttered. “I-I will, just don’t kill me, please!”

“Tell no one what you saw here!” Rami insisted.

“I swear!” he returned. “I won’t tell anyone, just please let me go!”

Rami tossed him almost lazily out the window. He struggled to his feet and took off into the woods after his partner. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“Rami -”

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN HERE?” Rami bellowed, rounding on you.

You stepped back, nearly stumbling, but Rami caught you by the arm.

“This place is forbidden!” he continued. “These are my private things!”

You shook him off and planted your feet, becoming defensive. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“I only came here because I didn’t know where else to go!” you shouted back. “I needed answers!”

“Answers to what?!” he demanded.

“If I’m going to live my life here then I have a right to know who you are!” you cried. “I thought -”

You stopped yourself. Knowing now that Rami was the prince, you didn’t want to tell him you had suspected him of killing the king and queen.

“What?” he pressed. “What did you think?”

You looked at the floor, ashamed. “I thought you were the reason the king and queen were dead. I was trying to find evidence of what happened to the prince.”

When he didn’t answer, you looked up. His shoulders sagged and he refused to meet your gaze.

“You can imagine how shocked I was to find out that you…” you trailed off. You didn’t need to say.

A beat of uncomfortable silence passed. You wanted him to say something - anything to answer for what had just happened. You stared at him, willing him to speak. But he didn’t.

“Rami,” you sighed. “You’re hurt. Let me help you with that cut.”

“It’s fine,” he snapped, recoiling from you.

“Don’t be a baby,” you said. “It could get infected.”

“I don’t need to -”

“I’m not giving you the option!”

He met your eyes and you glared at each other. He heaved a sigh.

“Fine,” he conceded.

“Come on,” you said, offering your hand.

He took it in his massive paw, and you led him out. He told you how to get to his bedroom. There, he flopped down into a chair. You, however, were distracted immediately by the rose floating in a case on a side table that was pushed into the back corner. It had a soft pink glow around it, but it was wilting. Several petals littered the table’s surface.

“What is that?” you asked, pointing.

“None of your business,” Rami replied harshly.

You frowned. “If you don’t start explaining, I’ll just get more curious, and then we’ll have more instances like today.”

“I’m beginning to think I relieved your father of a most annoying housemate,” he said.

“Oh!” you gasped. “That was so uncalled for!”

“Well, listen to you!” he returned. “Demanding answers at every turn, walking around people’s private rooms!”

“My father didn’t keep secrets from me!” you shot back.

You glowered at each other for a moment before Rami caved once more.

“The rose...is a symbol of my curse,” he began.

“What curse?” you asked.

You knelt down beside the chair and started tending to the wound on his arm.

“When I was twelve, an enchantress came to the castle to collect a debt owed by my father…”

He told the whole story. The way she attacked the palace and killed his father. He and his mother’s escape attempt. And that he was paying the price the king owed. He did not tell you about the way to lift the curse.

“That’s ridiculous!” you cried, securing his bandage with a tug. “She punished a child for something his father did?! Who is this enchantress? I’m gonna give her a piece of my mind!”

You got to your feet, and started toward the door, only he grabbed your hand. You faced him. He eased you back to your place beside him.

“I admire your readiness, but it’s no use trying to find her,” he said. “I spent the first four years of my life as a beast searching. I tried using the mirror, but it showed me nothing. She just vanished.”

“It’s so unfair,” you said quietly. “Is there a way to break the curse?”

“There is,” he admitted. “But I won’t tell you.”

“Why not?” you wondered.

“It’s not something you can do for me,” he said. “I don’t want you to worry about it.”

That was true. The last thing Rami wanted was for you to feel any sort of pressure to lift the curse. If he was going to earn your love, it would not be out of pity or obligation.

“Are you sure there’s no way I can help?” you asked.

He almost smiled at the sweetness of your offer.

“I’m sure,” he told you. “You’ve done enough.”

He placed his paw atop your hand, which rested on his fresh bandage.

“Please,” you said, rolling your eyes. “It’s my fault you got this. I’m sorry, Rami. I shouldn’t have pried, but -”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “You’re right, if you’re going to live here and we’re to be companions, I can’t keep my life so secret.”

“Thank you,” you said. “For opening up. And for saving my life.”

“You’re welcome.”

You held his gaze. You suddenly realized why the eyes in the painting seemed so familiar. You had seen them before, only on the beast, and they were so bereft of their former joy that you had not seen the similarities.

“I should have known you were the prince,” you said.

“You should?” he questioned.

You nodded. “You have the same eyes. They’re just...sadder now.”

“Yes…” he trailed off. “Sadder.”

Another beat passed.

“Rami, I…” you hesitated. “Now that I know you better, I’d like it if we could be friends.”

He blinked. “Friends?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Is that alright?”

He did smile now, and his sharp teeth didn’t frighten you.

“I’d like that,” he said.

“Good,” you replied. “And just so you know, friends give each other hugs after they share things like this.”

“Oh, come on,” he groaned.

“Hey, I don’t make the rules,” you joked.

He didn’t argue any further. So you stood up, leaned over the chair, and put your arms around his furry neck. You had never really gotten to feel his coat before. It was soft and wavy, and beautiful in its own way. You felt his powerful muscles relax beneath your touch.

“There,” you said with a little extra squeeze. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“No,” he chuckled. “I suppose not.”

“Good,” you said. “Now, I’ve got to go and change for dinner. I’ll see you in a little bit?”

He nodded. “You will.”

“Alright then,” you said.

You bid him farewell, and he listened to you cross the room and close the door behind you on your way out. Rami’s cheeks were burning, and it wasn’t from the fire in the hearth. Little did he know, you felt the warmth too.

Dinner went smoothly. It was a lighter conversation, which made both you and Rami relax. You even made him laugh. Twice. His laugh, though seemingly tainted by the rumble in his voice, was warm. It made you smile. He had clearly not laughed in years, because he seemed startled by the sound of it.

After the meal, Rami actually walked you up to your room. Anna was waiting for you, and her eyebrows shot up at the sight of you walking hand in hand with Rami. Or rather, hand in paw. She glanced quickly between you before lowering her eyes, but you saw a hint of a smile on her lips.

“Good evening, Y/N,” she greeted.

“Hi, Anna,” you replied. “You can go ahead in.”

Anna nodded and disappeared behind your door. You turned to Rami.

“I suppose this is goodnight,” you said. “Your highness.”

He shook his head. “No, just Rami for you.”

You shot him a questioning look.

“Because that’s what my friends call me,” he explained.

You beamed. “Well, then. Goodnight, Rami.”

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he replied. “I wanted to ask you if...um…”

“Yes?” you pressed.

“Would you join me tomorrow for my morning walk?” he asked. “Please.”

“I will,” you told him.

“Good!” he said excitedly, before clearing his throat and becoming dignified again. “I’ll come for you at nine.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” you said.

“Goodnight,” he said. “Again.”

You giggled. “Goodnight, Rami.”

You stepped forward and hugged him again. You felt him stiffen before releasing his breath. It broke your heart that affection was so jarring to him. But you were glad you could show it to him.

With one final look at each other, you followed Anna into your room. You smiled once more at him before closing the door. Rami stood there, for once grateful for his face being covered in hair. You couldn’t see the blush he was feeling.

Anna raised an eyebrow at you as you turned around.

“Not a word,” you jokingly warned.

She giggled. You joined her. Then, she helped you change for bed. Your head hit the pillow, and you drifted off, dreaming of warm paws and glowing roses.

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softest-cinnamon-roll · 4 years

Note

Applesauce

Thirty Minute Challenge

word: applesaucewords: 1,264time: 19:20 - 19:50

* * * * *

Eddie kept his head down as he walked into the school, his hands holding the straps of his backpack tight, weaving in and out of the throngs of students who were hanging out by their lockers waiting for the bell to ring. It was his first day of Derry High School, having just moved there with his dad after his parent’s nasty divorce. Of course, she had tried to obtain full custody, but the court sided with his dad once the information about her giving him placebos came to light.

Before, he had lived in New York, a busy city where he had no idea who any of his neighbours were. Now, he was living in a small town where everyone said hello to one another in the street and no secrets were kept. Not a single one. His dad had grown up here, and his parents had left them their house, which was where the two of them moved in to. It was nice, decent sized and it felt more like a home than the apartment in New York the three of them had shared.

Yet, even through all of the move and the divorce and the custody case, the most terrifying thing about all of this, to Eddie, was starting a new school. He walked up to the main office, knocking on the glass window to get the receptionists attention. She smiled and pulled the glass open, looking across at him. “How can I help you?”

Eddie held out the letter his dad had received from the school, passing it to the lady. “I’m Eddie Kaspbrak. Today is my first day.”

A look of recognition passed over the lady’s face and she nodded her head, passing him a new sheet of paper over the counter. “Of course you are, we’ve been expecting you. This is your class schedule as well as a map of the school. It’s rather small though so you won’t get lost. I’ll take you to the first class and there'll be plenty of students who will help you to your other classes.” She moved to the door and met him on the other side, just as the bell rang. They walked down the corridor and stopped outside of a locker. “This is yours.”

Eddie watched as she passed him the combination and he unlocked the locker, placing his lunch and other items into the safe place and locking it once more. She lead him further down the corridor and stopped outside another classroom filled with student’s. “Is this my class?” He asked and she nodded, knocking on the door and walking in with him.

The students were all settling down, pulling out their pens, pencils and notebooks, but they all looked to the door as Eddie stepped in. He wanted to cower behind the receptionist, as he hated having too much attention on him. The teacher looked up and smiled. “Ah, Mr Kaspbrak.” He ushered him forward. “Everyone, this is Eddie, he’s our new student. Please be nice to him.” He pointed to the empty chair next to a boy with auburn red hair. “Take a seat next to Mr Denbrough.”

Without much argument, Eddie took the assigned seat and pulled his supplies out. He turned to smile at his neighbour and waved a little. “Hi, I’m Eddie.”

“Bill,” the boy grinned. “Nice to meet you. Derry never gets new kids so you’ve been the talk of the school for a while. The last new kid we had was Ben back in Middle School, you’ll meet him later, he’s part of our friend group.”

Eddie relaxed a little at how friendly Bill was, and the class passed by uneventfully. In fact, the whole morning passed without anything too crazy happening, and soon it was lunchtime. He had been lucky and Bill had been in all of his classes, which meant Eddie was sticking to him like glue. When the bell rang for lunch, Bill walked Eddie to his locker to pick up his lunch before they made their way to the cafeteria. It was already swarming with students and Eddie felt his stomach clench before Bill was tugging him over to a table were three kids their age sat.

“Guys! This is Eddie.” Bill introduced him as he took a seat next to one of the boys. All the eyes turned to him, smiles on their faces and Eddie took a seat next to the boy with well kept hair and a high collar shirt. “This is Stan,” Bill pointed to the boy next to him, “Ben and Mike.” They all waved as Bill called their names, so Eddie knew who each of them were. “Bev and Richie will be here soon, they always go for a smoke first.”

Stan turned to Eddie then, “Richie is a lot, he makes crude jokes, is generally loud and is just…very talkative. We all love him, but he can be a bit much for someone who doesn’t know him.” He took a bite of his carrot stick, smiling softly and Eddie couldn’t help but smile back.

He pulled his lunch out of his bag and took the opportunity to scan his eyes over the lunch hall. As his eyes landed on the door, two students walked through; a girl with fiery red hair and a boy who towered over everyone, dark curls and thick framed glasses perched on his nose. Eddie felt his mouth run dry at the sight of him, cheeks slightly flushed. It was then, that he realised they were heading in their direction.

“Hello chaps, what a wonderful Monday this is turning out to be, what do you think?” The boy spoke immediately and took a seat next to Ben, arm wrapping around his shoulders. The girl rolled her eyes and shoved him out of the way before taking his spot, pressing a kiss to Ben’s cheek. He recovered after a moment, and his eyes locked on Eddie’s across the table. “Well hello there cutie…” he drawled.

“It’s Eddie,” Eddie shot back, not knowing where the confidence came from, but not complaining. “My name is Eddie.”

Recognition passed over who Eddie assumed was Richie’s face, and he moved around the table to sit opposite him. From closer up, Eddie could see the freckles that littered Richie’s cheeks and he held back a groan. Why did he have to be good looking? “Well Eds...I’m Richie Tozier. At your service.” He picked up Eddie’s hand and, keeping their eyes locked, pressed a kiss to the top of it. His eyes darted away for a moment, landing on his lunch. “Holy shit, is that applesauce?”

Eddie winced a little, pulling his hand back fast and he bit his lip. Yes, Eddie was an applesauce addict, sue him. Back in New York he was picked on relentlessly for eating the snack meant for toddlers. “Y-Yeah...it is. What’s it to you?”

Everyone around the table groaned and Eddie tilted his head in confusion as Richie picked up the tub, grinning. “I fucking love applesauce.” He sat the tub down, passing it back to Eddie. “Like...love the stuff.”

That took Eddie by surprise and he reached back into his back, pulling out a spare tub he had, handing it over to Richie. “Do you want this one?” He asked and he couldn’t help but smile when Richie’s face lit up, accepting the snack.’

“Eds, Eddie Spaghetti. This is going to be the start of a beautiful friendship.” Richie grinned with a wink and Eddie felt his cheeks flush.

He couldn’t wait.

* * * * *

@3tothe1 @anellope @annxmatron @appojoos @are-you-reddie-for-it @beepbeeprichiellc @bi-bi-richie @billdenbrough @bitchbrak @callmechee @dadbodrichie @derrylosers @disneyfan567 @eds-trashmouth @eduardoandale @feldmancorey @girasol-eddie @gloire-celeste @halfway-happy353 @hawkinsbabe @inthebreadbinwrites @itfandomprompts @its-stranger-than-you-think @jem-carstairs-is-perfection @kat-ships-everything @lifesucksheres20bucks @loserslibrary @losers-gotta-stick-together @madidraw @mars-14 @marsisaplanetyall @moonlightrichie @nancynwheeler @no-she-wasnt-reddie @oldguybones @photoboothreddie @pink-psychic @purplepoisonedgem @queen-sock @ransonelovebot @rebecca-the-queen @reddie-for-anything @reddie-to-cryy @reddieforlove @reddiesetandgo @richietoaster @roobarrtrashmouth @rreddies @s-onora @s-s-georgie @sashadrowned @sedanleystanley @sloppybitchreddie @sparklingrainbowdragon @spirited-marvel @stebbins @stellarbisexual @studpuffin @takeourpure @that-weird-girls-blog @thegoshdiddlydangdoor @thejadeazalea @thorn-harvester-ven @tinyarmedtrex @tozier-boy @tozierking @toziesque @trashmouthtozierr @twoidiotsinl0ve @violetreddie @virgo-luthie @wilding-throught-thehallways @xandertheundead

#reddie #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #writing tag

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thehangeddemon · 3 years

Text

Playing with Fire || Master Maxi || March, 1958

Maximus: Maximus hesitated just outside of the office. The day's mail stacked neatly on a silver tray, newly polished. He hovered only because of Xavier's stance, awaiting to be noticed.

Xavier: Xavier was rubbing his forehead and temples in rhythmic little circles, a distinct furrow to his brow that said the universe was sorely testing him this day.

It was when he leaned back in his chair to heave a great sigh that he noticed Maximus and some of that annoyance melted away. "How long have you been standing there?" he asked with an apologetic smile.

Maximus: "Long enough to know better." Only then would he enter, lowering enough for his master to inspect the tray. An invitation, news, bills. Maximus waited quietly for inspection of each letter being speaking.

"May I ask what is troubling you, m'lord?"

Xavier: He took the mail from the tray with a nod of thanks. Bills went in the To Do pile, the news in the To Read pile, and the invitation in front of him.

"I received a call from an associate of mine in Riyadh. He handles my exports from that part of the world and a few years ago I invested in his business. Ever since, he comes to me with any and all business ideas he comes up with hoping I'll invest."

Maximus: "Not very keen, m'lord?" Given the strain around his eyes, and the massage of his temples. As much as he wanted to ask about the invitation, he refrained, placing the tray under his arm.

"Will that be all?"

Xavier: "I was, once upon a time, when the ideas actually bore fruit and effort was put into ensuring so. Now the ideas become more harebrained with every passing year, but he never presents them that way." Xavier grabbed his letter opener. "He makes each one sound more grand than the last, never wants to take no for an answer. If I were alive he'd have taken years off my life by now."

He opened the invitation, scanned it briefly. "Speaking of grand."

Maximus: Maximus wondered what sort of ideas this man had, and silently tickled at the idea of Xavier's irritation with anything so far from serious. Something rather human to stir things.

"A party, this time of year?"

Xavier: "It would appear so. An exhibition of classical art to be followed by an auction. It's being hosted by Haskell, that insufferable bon vivant we met in Los Angeles. You know the one. Old, old money banker who sold me the chandelier in the drawing room some time ago."

Maximus: He remembered. The man had leather for skin, and glasses far too thick. The way he stared, as though right through and beyond. He didn't much care for him.

"Do you wish to accept?"

Xavier: Xavier sighed and considered for a moment. Did he want to endure an entire evening listening to that dandy boast and hold court?

"Not particularly." He smiled. "But I do wish to avail myself of the contents of Haskell's wine cellar."

Maximus: "You do enjoy playing with fire at every opportunity." Bold words for eyes submissive to the ground.

Xavier: He chuckled. "It's Haskell who's playing with fire by sending this invitation. He knows damn well he squeezed me for every cent he could for that chandelier. No doubt he's hoping I'll part with several hundred more of my dollars on this little auction of his."

Maximus: "May I ask what the auction is for? Does the invitation say?"

Xavier: The invitation was consulted. "He claimed the proceeds will benefit the hospital but that is a damnable lie. The hospital will see a fraction of the proceeds, if that, and the rest will go into Haskell's pocket. How do you think he's managed to afford that ridiculous mansion?"

Maximus: This made his butler frown. "I see. Then I will not waste energy encouraging your presence."

Xavier: He grinned. "Would you like to go to Los Angeles? We can steal Haskell's wine, give a bigger donation to the hospital to spite him, and go to the pictures. There's nothing quite like going to the pictures in Hollywood."

Maximus: "In all my years, I can't recall having ever been." And his first experience would be with Xavier. He very much liked the idea, but these were duty hours, so his smile was that of poise.

"You had me at donation, m'lord."

2:54 AM] Xavier: "Excellent!" Xavier took the RSVP card out of the envelope and reached for his pen to fill it out. "Please see that this gets returned and find me the name of the lowest quality vineyard in the state."

Maximus: "Yes, m'lord." The tray was lowered for the invitation's return. He didn't expect to see the fruits of this labor. Only to hear about the fruition of his schemes, and he looked forward to such tales.

"I would like to ask your opinion on something as well, if you have a moment to spare."

Xavier: "Please, by all means." Xavier was in considerably better spirits than he'd been a few minutes ago and it showed clearly in his expression in demeanor. All the annoyance had turned to warmth and welcome, and both were directed at the beautiful man before him.

Maximus: "I apologize for not inquiring sooner, but, do you have a preference towards wild game?"

Xavier: “I don’t favor any particular type but I’ve always enjoyed venison.”

Maximus: "Very good, m'lord. Will that be all?"

Xavier: "Yes, darling, thank you. Bring me the name of that vineyard as soon as possible, preferably before the party."

Maximus: The darling caught him off guard so early in the morning. He blinked, but offered nothing of his thoughts physically. A bow of obedience, and he turned from the room. Wild game, he decided, would be served for lunch. Something elegant, of course, but unusual. It was time for a split of body. Cooking, research, and to tend the garden.

Xavier: Xavier smiled at Maximus' retreating back until he was out of sight before turning his attention to the mail. What needed reading was read, what needed paying was paid, and a letter was written to a certain associate telling him in no uncertain terms that Xavier's patience for harebrained schemes had been completely exhausted.

He gathered everything up and went to put it with the rest of the mail. And maybe look for Maximus.

Maximus: One of those he sought was in the kitchen chopping carrots and celery. The usual mise en place accompanying a French inspired dish. Another duplicate with rolled sleeves visible from the kitchen window, tending the garden pulling weeds.

The real Maximus Fairchild was in his modest office. Research, as commanded, with the phone to his ear.

Xavier: Xavier smiled as he spotted each of his butler’s shadows, not surprised to see them. When Maximus had a pressing task he always preferred to attend to it personally, like the little project Xavier had given him.

The question now was, did he watch the shadow cooking or the one gardening?

A few moments to decide and he was stepping into the kitchen.

“Hello, my dear,” he greeted, taking a seat at the kitchen table. “Would you mind some company?”

Maximus: The duplicate looked up from his scrutinized knife. Almost the same man. Absent voice, but not expression. Free by a margin to smile as though off duty.

Maximus #2 pointed to a large bowl by the long sink. A skinned hare, fresh from market before Xavier opened his eyes that morning.

Xavier: “Such a beautiful smile,” he said, barely resisting the urge to kiss it before walking over to the sink.

“Ah, this explains the question about wild game. It appears we’re to have a very excellent lunch indeed.”

Maximus: Still as modest as the original. This Maximus paused, basked a moment in praise before pushing it aside with scolding eyes.

Xavier: Xavier laughed softly. “I’ll behave, you have my word. I’m simply here to observe. You’re miles more alluring than anything I have on my desk.”

Maximus: Even a mimicry with base faculties was enough of a truth to bristle at such flattery. He pointed in the direction of the office.

Xavier: “Very well, I’ll leave you to your work.” Beautiful shadow of my beautiful Maximus.

He tamped down another urge, this time to brush his lips against the shadow’s cheek, and went to knock on Maximus’ door.

1:10 PM] Maximus: The office was modest, despite encouragement of his master. Decorated with a framed original photograph of the estate on the east wall, and a portrait of a mother and child found in the attic on the east. Nothing personal. Despite budding intimacy, doubt lingered whether or not a Fairchild or Berti might be neatly displayed in the upcoming months, years.

Maximus looked up from a simple brown book, telephone handset returned as he stood.

"Yes, m'lord?"

Xavier: Xavier leaned against the doorframe and smiled softly. At Maximus, at the simple decor, at the phone and the book.

What he wanted to say was, we’ve been apart for an hour and I missed you. I feel...needy for your company today and I’m not quite sure why. I want you to set work aside for the day and come sit in my lap where I can kiss and hold you. I want you to smile at me, talk to me in your soft, gentle way. I want to see the blush on your cheeks when I compliment you. I want you to ask me for the moon and I want to get it for you. I want you to feel needy for me, too.

What he said was, “How is your search coming?”

Maximus: His butler could only decipher so much, but that long stare did something to his insides. The room was suddenly too warm.

"The list is nearly complete. Two more calls to make. A budding vineyard to the south gave interest to inquiry. I thought it might be worth your investment, or ill-considered to neglect informing you."

Xavier: He nodded, and tramped down his third urge in as many minutes. “That was good thought. A budding vineyard might be exactly what I’m looking for, or a worthy investment as you said.” Another nod. “Excellent work, thank you. I’ll leave you to it.”

Maximus: Where Maximus should have bowed his head and returned to his seat, he lingered.

"Is there something else I might do for you? Or... one of them?"

Xavier: Xavier shook his head. “No, thank you, I’m...I’m fine. I might take a short drive before lunch.”

Maximus: "As you so often remind me, I am more than your servant. I am your assistant. Allow me to be concerned for a moment, and serve you as my choosing."

Xavier: Maximus was offered another smile. “I’ll allow you, and I appreciate your concern. I suppose I’m simply in a restless mood this morning.”

Maximus: "Perhaps, instead of a drive... a walk?"

Xavier: “Perhaps that’s a better idea. Would you—?”

Maximus: "I would love to accompany you."

Xavier: He offered his arm. “Around the garden?”

Maximus: "I am off duty in the meantime?"

Xavier: Xavier nodded. “Yes. For the walk, and perhaps to join me for lunch?”

Maximus: Such proposal prevented the removal of his watch. Lunch was nowhere near finished; neither were monotonous chores worthy of his duplicates. His hand came away from his wrist.

"Delighted." His first undressed smile of the day.

Xavier: That smile made him feel like a drowning man being given breath again.

He returned it in kind. “Marvelous. Come, let’s get some fresh air.”

Maximus: Papers were quickly straightened. Pen used as a bookmark for the phone book and set aside. Off duty, he told himself. His own idea, he repeated. He didn't know what to do with his hands. A coat? Loosen his tie? Nothing seemed more appropriate than consistency.

"Just the garden?"

Xavier: “The garden, the grounds. Perhaps the woods. We’ll see where our feet carry us. It’s a lovely day; we ought to enjoy as much of it as we can.”

Maximus: Seemed fanciful, but as he'd come to learn, not so unlike this young demon.

No coat, only a change of shoes before holding the door. Some standards would not shake. The garden had expanded since winter. Herbs dominated much of the landscape leading to the house. Roses and shrubs lining the walk towards the various statues. Tomatoes and other less visually stimulating like were out of sight by design.

"If I were to ask you to spill your thoughts, would you?"

Xavier: It was as proper as an English garden could be. Tea roses, winding paths, statues, vegetables, a fountain. It was what the manor deserved after so many years of neglect.

“Just now I’m thinking what a beautiful job you’ve done out here.”

Maximus: Not what he'd expected, but he would take it. "These were your choices." For the most part. The flowers, with the exception of tenderly minded magnolias.

Xavier: "And you took those selections and created a garden worthy of the estate it surrounds. You should be very proud, Maximus."

Maximus: "That's the word I'm looking for," he smiled. "I'd like to hear more of your thoughts, if you'd allow me."

Xavier: "I'm also wondering how long it will take Haskell to realize his wine collection is worthless after I replace all the wine with whatever vineyard is chosen for the deception."

Maximus: "Rather than leaving his stock barren, your sense of humor is to replace with inferior. As you do artistic masterpieces."

Xavier: Xavier grinned. "Indeed. And like with artistic masterpieces, they will receive a better home and proper appreciation. Haskell, on the other hand, will be humiliated in front of those whose coattails he seeks to ride and will have an absolute conniption thinking he essentially tossed thousands of dollars down a hole."

Maximus: Is he really deserving of such punishment, he thought. He felt it best not to ask. Despite the careful distance their relationship had crossed, Xavier was still master. Trust was a fickle creature. It was of little concern; he didn't actually care.

"You spoke to my copies again today."

Xavier: This particular punishment was merely intended to knock Howard Haskell down a few pegs and back to where he rightfully belonged. There was nothing Xavier hated so much as hubris that hadn't been earned.

He nodded, smile still in place. "I did, yes. I always speak to them when I see them."

Maximus: "I'm not sure I understand your reasoning. They offer little." They were tools, nothing more in his belief, which made Xavier's insistence fascinating and confounding.

Xavier: "They offer more than meets the eye." More than once, talking to Maximus' shadows offered the chance to see that beautiful smile without a hint of reservation.

Maximus: He saw each and every one-sided conversation. With every broken spell, each memory of his duplicates became his own. What was once used as a torment, now became a source of entertainment.

"You could always speak to me, if you need an ear."

Xavier: His smile gentled. "Thank you," he said softly. "I sincerely appreciate it. I don't often find myself having that need, but when I do...thank you, Maximus. For the offer and...for walking with me."

Maximus: "It's less out of obligation than you might think."

Xavier: "At the risk of flattering myself, I don't think it's out of obligation at all."

Maximus: "You've taken a great risk. Haskell would be impressed."

Xavier: Xavier chuckled. "Haskell's risks aren't really risks. They're calculated to appear that way."

Maximus: "Yours are true?"

Xavier: He nodded. "There was a very good chance coming with me and lending me an ear was due to a sense of obligation."

Maximus: "We still walk that fine line of mystery."

Xavier: “We do indeed. And I take great risks and hope for the best.”

Maximus: "You risk believing there is no risk," he smiled.

Xavier: “Oh believe me, I could never. It’s always very present in my mind.”

Maximus: He wanted an elaboration, but would not ask.

"Are you feeling better now?"

Xavier: “Much better, yes. You’re a very great help.”

Maximus: "You're very generous as usual, Xavier."

Xavier: Hearing his name from Maximus’ lips brought a rush of such affection it was a wonder he didn’t pull the man into his arms without a second thought.

“It’s sincere. Talking to you makes my mind feel quieter, more calm.”

Maximus: "I'm...honored." But what he wanted to ask was why, and how, as he felt he offered nothing significant.

Xavier: Xavier turned to study his companion for a moment. “May I be so bold as to say you’re also...curious?”

Maximus: "I'm curious?"

1:57 AM] Xavier: “About why you calm my mind. It feels as though you want to ask me something.”

Maximus: You cannot read my mind, he reminded himself. "I have a readable face." This much was honest.

Xavier: “You do, but it’s more than that. We have a bond. We’re...in tune with each other.”

Maximus: "You think so?"

Xavier: “I do. I can feel it when I’m near you and when we’re apart, when we’re speaking or sitting in silence.”

Maximus: "That's perhaps the bond of servitude." A jest, but his smile was meek. One might regard as shy.

Xavier: Xavier simply returned the smile and offered Maximus his hand. It was fine if he didn’t take it; but Xavier felt the need to offer it.

Maximus: The hand was given a second of regard before taking. Not because this was his master, but because he wanted to. He wondered if Xavier truly understood.

Xavier: Perhaps Xavier could never fully understand, but he understood that this was a man who was rightfully cautious, who'd been hurt in unimaginable ways, and still accepted his hand.

He brought it to his lips and placed a delicate kiss on Maximus' knuckles.

Maximus: Maximus watched against his will. This was his hand being lovingly cared for, and those were Xavier's lips. There was no greater affection, and after months of such treatment, he was sure more than anything else that Xavier knew.

"It...smells like wood polish. Forgive me."

Xavier: “The wood polish you use smells like lemons. I’ve nothing to forgive.” He offered another kiss, this time to Maximus’ palm.

Maximus: Air demanded to leave his lungs in one warm escape. The emptiness felt at the bottom of his ribs made him feel more alive. Pain often did in the most unpleasant times, but in the moment, only made him more aware of Xavier's presence.

"How far shall we walk?"

Xavier: He was starting to get a decent gauge of the reverence and meaning this sort of affection had for Maximus. All the more reason for Xavier to offer as much as possible, when possible. "Perhaps to the edge of the estate and back? I was thinking that perhaps you'd like to have lunch in the garden. It really is a lovely day, it'd be a shame not to enjoy it as much as we can."

Maximus: Xavier was a painting. Spoke like a gentleman, poised, tailored like a gentleman, but months together he began to see the forgery. What was beneath was less impressionist and more abstract. At the moment it was lovely.

"Would stewed hare be inappropriate for a garden lunch? I'll see to an alteration. Something lighter."

Xavier: "We rule all that we survey, my dear." He smiled. "We get to decide what is appropriate. And from what preparations I could see in the kitchen, I'm very much looking forward to that stewed hare."

Maximus: "It is an hour until lunch. To the edge of the property and back?"

Xavier: Xavier nodded. "To the edge and back. Tell me, do you think there's a good spot for some sort of garden folly or a gazebo?"

Maximus: "Certainly. This small clearing here," he pointed where the sun intended to set, just shy of the woods. "It's away from the house, but not far from the garden. Leaves the expanse of the lawn to admire, without having to see the driveway."

Xavier: Xavier considered for a moment and nodded. "You're right," he said with a smile. "That's the perfect place for it. Although looking at it, a folly seems like a much better use of the space than a gazebo. Something that wisteria or perhaps star jasmine can climb."

Maximus: "I think jasmine is an excellent idea. I'll begin the necessary arrangements. There, you think?" He pointed to where the garden ended shy of the woods, a corner of sorts. Even still, despite the calm, he sometimes had to correct his speech. No 'm'lord' here. He wondered if he would ever accept Xavier's supposed intention.

Xavier: “Let’s get a closer look.”

Xavier led Maximus over to the spot, walking around and picturing the potential structure and how it would look from the windows.

“Yes, this is the perfect place. Stone and wrought iron, I think, something very intricate. I trust you to find the perfect craftspeople.”

Maximus: "You're certain of iron?"

Xavier: “I rather like the idea of the sun casting filigreed shadows on the stone beneath. Do you have another material in mind?”

Maximus: "I don't want you to burn yourself. If perhaps it were painted?"

Xavier: "Ah, yes, you're right. For both our sakes, we shall have the iron painted black."

Maximus: "Are you efficient with drawing? Something I could show a contractor."

Xavier: “Efficient enough to give a contractor a decent idea of what I’m looking for. I might have to peruse my library for some inspiration.”

Maximus: "Very good." M'lord. "Something that will feel as timeless as the estate itself. Perhaps a winding stone walkway?"

Xavier: “I do like the idea of a walkway leading up to the structure. Perhaps with ornamental plants surrounding it.”

Maximus: "I'll see to it as well."

Xavier: “What would you like to plant along the path?”

Maximus: Maximus looked up, considering the shade. "I'm no expert on the subject, but, I believe leaving color to the garden here," he pointed back, "leaves less competition for the eye. Ferns, or something equally lush. The very least, creeping thyme."

Xavier: "Some ferns would look rather nice. The thyme as well. We shall see which one suits better when we choose the stone for the walkway." He thought for a moment. "If memory serves, there's an excellent stone mason in Los Angeles."

Maximus: Maximus frowned but nodded. Eyes thoughtful. "If I may be so bold, I find myself confused every instance it seems my opinions are valued."

Xavier: Xavier offered a smile. “Is it still so foreign after we’ve set this house to rights together?”

Maximus: "I've been made to do many things by various masters, but never trusted with an estate."

Xavier: “I trust you implicitly with this estate, Maximus. Not to mention my meals and my wardrobe.”

Maximus: "I couldn't poison your food if I wanted to," he smiled.

Xavier: “With your cooking? It’d be worth it.”

Maximus: "Your praise borders on cloying, Master Xavier."

Xavier: He chuckled. “I’d apologize if I didn’t think very highly of your cooking. And you know I’m a man who appreciates good food.”

Maximus: "I don't expect apologies when your words hold meaning to you."

Xavier: "They do." He found himself kissing Maximus' hand again. "I sincerely appreciate and value your opinions. Your input is something I treasure."

Maximus: Their pace slowed as Xavier indulged himself. Moments like this, words were too elusive to pluck from the air. Just emotion. Enticed by self-imposed mystery, but stayed by caution. Rarely was something hidden behind his eyes, but Maximus expected something. He would be foolish not to.

Flowery words, he told himself. Flattery from a charming demon. He should have been made at the crossroads.

"I'm honored."

Xavier: Perhaps he would be foolish not to, but the only thing behind Xavier's eyes was affection. Sincere, abiding affection.

"And I'm honored that you feel comfortable enough to give your input, even if it confuses you when it's taken to heart."

Maximus: He didn't want to spoil things by saying refusal was smaller than a crawlspace. Instead, he smiled, content to his silence and what his expression could offer.

Xavier: As staying on this subject would only serve to make Maximus uncomfortable, Xavier chose to move on for now.

"This is going to look lovely when it's finished. As will the road to the house when the wildflowers bloom."

Maximus: "You're in favor of a manicured lawn, or would you be interested in ground cover flowers?"

Xavier: "I'm in favor of both, though both have their place. I quite like the lawn surrounding the estate but lawn looks out of place on the roadside."

Maximus: "Very French," he smiled. "I agree, both have their place. I'm in favor of the backyard being as lush as we intend."

Xavier: “It will be when we’re done with it, we’ll put Versailles to shame. I rather like the idea of having a couple more statutes as well.”

Maximus: "There is enough space for a hedge maze as well, if your desire is a statement."

Xavier: “It’s tempting,” he chuckled. “But the sight of the woods beyond the garden is impossible to give up. Although some hedges would look nice bordering the drive.”

Maximus: "We could begin the drive with an iron gate, line the drive with hedges or perhaps roses. Something to withstand the drastic seasons."

Xavier: Xavier pictured the final result and smiled. “Perfect. This estate will be grand in every sense of the phrase.”

Maximus: "And when... we have finished, do you intend to throw a grand party celebrating your success?"

Xavier: "This wouldn't be much of a sanctuary if I did that. Perhaps we could have Massimo and his family for dinner. I only trust him with the location of this house."

Maximus: This surprised his servant, studying his profile as they slowly walked, curious what in particular made this home a sanctuary. What was intended for this house.

"I see. Something in New York, perhaps. You should celebrate your achievement."

Xavier: Xavier smiled. “A more private celebration seems more appealing, although perhaps that’s the hermit in me. I always manage to wander off on my own at parties.”

Maximus: "More business deals, wine and beautiful people."

Xavier: You’re the only beautiful people I need, Xavier thought to himself.

“Deals aren’t quite enticing enough for a celebration. Are you opposed to a small dinner party with Massimo’s family?”

Maximus: "I will serve whomever you choose to bring," Maximus said, watching the woods towards the abandoned house.

Xavier: "Perhaps we can also invite my staff at the warehouse. Everyone has been thoroughly vetted and I trust them all. They're good people."

Maximus: "If they can make the travel," he felt the need to point out.

Xavier: “Easily taken care of. I can make travel arrangements for them.”

Maximus: "Very elaborate. I believe my spell will be in order."

Xavier: "Or, there is an alternative."

9:22 PM] Maximus: Maximus slowed and studied the man by his side, curious but unwilling to guess.

Xavier: “We could hire waitstaff for the evening, which would allow you to enjoy the celebration freely.”

Maximus: "Would that not be seen as inappropriate of your assistant to dine as equal?"

Xavier: “Massimo is incredibly fond of you and my employees wouldn’t dare cause such offense.”

Maximus: "I don't believe they would dare such disrespect to you in person, but perhaps it is not in good taste." He watched Xavier a moment. "If I may be so bold to speak my mind this way."

Xavier: Xavier smiled. "Of course you may. And if you truly do not wish to attend a celebration as a guest, you don't have to. I only ask that if you decide against it, it be because you truly wish to attend in your capacity as butler."

Maximus: "I think it's the most appropriate road in which to walk... in public." Their relationship was still so young. Still too soon to openly reveal anything more than professionalism. It was safe.

Xavier: "As you wish, my dear." It didn't feel right to take sole credit for the complete transformation of the estate, but it would feel worse to push Maximus in a way he wasn't ready for.

"It will be a small celebration but grand nonetheless."

Maximus: Finally, he could breathe. For a moment he was concerned, but Xavier's response was as consistent as day one.

"I look forward to assisting in its assembly."

Xavier: "You'll be instrumental in its success. That being said, would you like me to hire waitstaff to assist you for the evening?"

Maximus: "Hire, or borrow from another?"

Xavier: "Hire and thoroughly vet."

Maximus: "By your will. Eight hands are better than six."

Xavier: "Anything at all you need when the time comes, please ask. No expense will be spared."

Maximus: "I wouldn't insult your celebration by offering cheap wine," he smiled.

Xavier: "You couldn't insult my celebration, full stop. Outwardly it might be mine, but privately, it's ours."

Maximus: "That's very kind," said Maximus. He would have worried for repeating himself if not for being so relaxed. Too eased, his equals might argue.

Silence would be sensible for several meters.

Xavier: Xavier didn't mind the silence. During his time with Maximus, he'd come to recognize the different types he affected at different moments. Some silences were companionable, some filled with work and distractions, and others, like this one, affected when there was a fear that too much had been shared. Not always in words, but in manner.

It almost came as a surprise when they reached the edge of the property. Xavier hadn't realized he'd been lost in thought. "Ready to head back, darling?"

Maximus: Seemed the moment had passed. For now. He wouldn't linger on what he had felt and why. Not here in his master's presence.

"I will see to lunch, prep for dining outside, if the idea still appeals."

Xavier: "It does," he said with a nod, sighing contentedly. "I shall go down to the cellar and select a good wine to accompany our meal. All game requires a fine wine."

Maximus: He would dare offer a suggestion. "A bold red, perhaps?"

Xavier: Xavier beamed in approval. "Precisely what I was thinking. We shall lunch like royalty today, my dear."

Maximus: "If there is anything one of my shadows can assist you with, please. You will be quite bored observing my assemblage of lunch."

Xavier: "Actually, now that we're going to be coming into a great deal of wine, some reorganization of the cellar is in order. I'd like to see how much spare room we have."

Maximus: "It is one of the last areas of the house left virtually untouched." He wanted to be there to assist, but preparing the table outside yielded a more intimate future.

Xavier: "And a significant project because of it. I will take one of your shadows down to get a proper lay of the land and we shall discuss over lunch."

Maximus: I shall see you then, he thought, offering nothing more in response than a gentle smile.

Xavier: Xavier was going to take that smile as approval of the plan, and give one in return.

“Very well, my dear. I’ll be down in the cellar. May I kiss your hand again, before you return to duty?”

Maximus: "Am I to return to duty before lunch?" Asked carefully. A timid offering of what could be.

Xavier: He had put forth a great deal of effort to keep his face from smiling too excitedly. Such a careful question could only be met with gentleness.

“I think not,” Xavier murmured. “After lunch will be quite soon enough.”

Maximus: His smile was not quite what Xavier felt. Bedded down as forcefully as Xavier's efforts. "As you wish."

Xavier: “In that case...” He turned to fully face Maximus. “May I kiss you, darling?”

Maximus: He dared look his master in the eyes. There was no harm here. Those eyes, as they had always been, were a safe place.

"You may," said softly.

Xavier: Those eyes were brimming with affection as Xavier gently cradled Maxmius’ face and leaned in to kiss him like he’d wanted to do all day. Feeling and tasting this beautiful man was like satisfying a craving.

Maximus: Every kiss felt the same. Something less than fear and more than elation. Trust deserved but fragile. His lips felt impossibly warm, and he welcomed them with an inaudible sigh. His hands didn't know what to do, other than remain useless at his sides.

Xavier: Xavier could only hope that the day would come when Maximus felt comfortable enough to reach for him, to touch him as much and as long as he wanted without a second thought. He could only hope that someday Maximus would feel comfortable enough to do a lot of things.

Until then Xavier was more than happy to take the lead. They were dancing the world's gentlest, most deliberate waltz, each move fraught with meaning. Each kiss he was allowed was treasured. He took only a little bit at a time, savoring before coming back for more. Never pushing, never demanding.

"Beautiful," he whispered, caressing Maximus' face.

Maximus: Like a dream he was sure wakefulness would steal with cold hateful hands. He was certain this was false. Not any moment, but someday. For now he could lean into the strength of Xavier's stance and welcome his warm merciful hands. Offer a deepening of his affections as his master-in-name caressed his pale face. Reach timidly to place his hand over Xavier's in solidarity.

Xavier: There had been moments when they first began this delicate relationship where Xavier had wondered if he had the strength of will to be gentle, to tamp down his desires and keep from take, take, taking. But he'd soon discovered that when it came to Maximus Fairchild, being gentle was the easiest thing in the world. It came as easy as breathing, and Xavier had slowly begun to realize that the only thing he had to tamp down was the urge to bombard Maximus with his affection a thousand times a day.

He had his moments, of course, he was only human--or had been at one point. But this here? That little touch, the subtle deepening of a kiss? Fuck, it was what he lived for.

Beautiful, he thought again, letting himself stretch the kiss a few more long, lingering moments before regrettably pulling away.

Maximus: Parting had become a bittersweet endeavor. He realized in this moment, taking a step back from Xavier's handsome figure, that their relationship was akin to an arranged marriage, more than that of master and slave. He would rather believe that than the truth. Wondered if in some measure Xavier felt the same. A fantasy which would live in his head as comfort, until the day it would no longer provide sustenance.

"A shadow will be with you shortly."

Xavier: He had to allow himself one final stroke of Maximus' cheek. Just a single one to sustain him until they sat down to eat.

"Very well," he said softly, smiling as he let his hands fall away. "I'll await them down in the cellar." And select one of his best bottles for their meal.

With that fond smile still lighting his face, Xavier started back toward the house.

#Playing with Fire chapter #maximusfairchild

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platypanthewriter · 3 years

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A Strategic Proposal 2/6

Part One/Part Two/Part Three/Part Four/Part Five/Part Six

That night, Billy came in their rooms quietly, and didn’t immediately drape himself over the back of Steve’s chair. “I’ve been given a quest,” he said, and Steve turned to face him, fondness welling up like a geyser at Billy’s startled frown, and his clumsy, exhausted hands trying to unfasten his armor. Steve trotted closer to lift Billy’s chin for a soft kiss, and then helped him unsheathe himself from his carapace.