#ah the joys of being awake at 4 am (almost) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ellana-ravenwood · 4 years ago

Text

“It’s Alfred dayyyy” - Batfam x Fem!Reader

Synopsis : Every year, every single year, your family reunites to celebrate the marvel that Alfred Pennyworth is.

Because Alfred does deserve his own “holiday” really. This has been sitting in my draft for almost two years, someone send me an ask that reminded me of it and I just suddenly really wanted to write it. I hope you’ll like it :

my master list : @ella-ravenwood-archives

__________________________________________________

Midnight, a new day :

“And we will be waiting for you at 8 am, your mom and I forced him to sleep in, but we all know he will be awake by that time anyway.”

“Ok, I’ll pick Jaybird on my way there.”��

“Jason is coming ?”

“He said he would.”

“Oh. Good.”

Dick did his hardest not to roll his eyes. “Oh. Good.” he says, as if the news didn’t make him wanna jump in joy. But of course, the Batman has a reputation to keep, if he showed too much emotions in one sitting, he’d probably explode.

The truth was that if Jason was coming...Well if Jason was coming, it meant they were finally on the road to forgiveness. And Dick knew that Bruce had been waiting a long time for this. Bruce...and everyone else really.

Especially you and Alfred.

“In any case, be there by 8. We’ll do the usual. Now that I think of it, could you maybe pick up his cake at West Side’s bakery ? Your mother was going to do it, but if you pick up Jason...I think he lives in the area ?”

Of course, Bruce knew exactly that Jason indeed lived not far from Alfred’s favorite bakery. Because he was keeping an eye on him. Not out of mistrust, or thinking he would kill again (he promised his mom, you, he would stop, but the promise was still recent, so was his return), but because...Well, it was his boy.

Ever since Bruce adopted Dick, he never stopped worrying about his kids. He never stopped trying to keep an eye on them. It got even worst after Jason’s death...He was actually overbearing many times, which lead Dick away more than once.

But he’d always be back.

Just like Jason, eventually, would be fully back.

For the moment, it was enough that he’d come by tomorrow.

For tomorrow was the one and only...”Alfred day”.

“Yeah sure, we can pick the cake up.”

“Alright. Well. I’m going home, and you lot should too. We promised Alfred, after all. An entire day without any vigilante’s business. Unless there’s an emergency of course. Good night.”

“’Night dad.”

Bruce turns to his youngest kids, expecting them to follow him, but Damian says :

“We’re right behind you, we’re just gonna hang out with Grayson a little more. Since he moved to Blüdhaven, we almost never see him...”

“Guiltripping me will not work little brother.”

“Are you sure ?”

Silence. And then Dick turns to his father :

“I’ll get them home soon, we’re gonna go get some ice cream.”

Bruce smiles, of this small genuine smile he only has when around his children. He nods, tell them not to stay out too late, and leaves, on his way back to you.

12:30 pm, Batcave.

“You are late, Master Bruce.”

“Only by half an hour. I had to see Dick before coming back. Logistic talk.”

As he speaks, Bruce takes his armor off, stretching a little after this short night full of not much happening. As if every villain in Gotham knew this day was happening, and they too would give a break to the butler (because if Bruce was resting, then Alfred could rest too).

“Well it means you’ll have to start half an hour late tomorrow, this is the deal. Where are the children ?”

“Alright. I will. And they’re getting ice cream with Dick. Now please, go to bed before she catches you up.”

“Lady (Y/N) will understand that I was making sure you are home on time.”

“She does understand yes, and she’s also telling you to go rest this instant ! You have slept even less than Bruce this past few days for god’s sake !”

Both Bruce and Alfred jumps a bit as you enter the bat cave, smiling at them. Alfred raises his hands in a sign of peace, smiles at you, gives you a kiss goodnight on your forehead (a nightly tradition, by now...you never had a dad, and Alfred took it upon him to catch up lost time), and leaves.

You turn to Bruce, and gives him your hand.

He takes it gladly, a smile on his lips. The kind he only shows when around those he loves...

A “glad you’re here” kiss, and a few words :

“You know, my favorite thing about this day is that you’re home all day long, and I don’t have to miss you...”

As usual, your words grip his heart, and his arms tighten around you. Even after years of being together, you could always make his pulse race with only a few words. Sometimes just a look...

He doesn’t resist or look back, when you give his hand a pull and leave the bat cave.

Rare were the occasions Bruce would forget about his vigilante work. In fact, only one day a year, would he completely forget about it. Because he promised. And because it was a special day.

A day to celebrate the man he came to view as his father.

Alfred day.

1 am, in “Giovanni’s 24/7 gelato” shop.

The waiter of the place didn't even blink, as he served ice creams to a bunch of kids at 1 am, in the heart of Gotham. Used to it really. Nothing in this city was like any other place. Most people were night dwellers, even children.

Probably because, thanks to a certain group of vigilante, they all felt safer when the sun was down.

“So, how did it start exactly, this Alfred day ?”

Duke asks, after taking a full scoop of his favorite ice cream, curtesy of a certain Dick grayson.

You had told Duke, about a week prior to it, that he had to clear his schedule for this particular day but didn’t really explain what it was exactly. Just that it was to celebrate Alfred. Not giving much more context.

Dick smiles, and say :

“How did it start ? Haha, oh man, it’s quite the story.”

With an annoyed sigh, Damian says :

“Just out with it already Grayson, we know, you were the only one that knew them by then blahblahblah.”

“Do I sense a hint of jealousy, little bird ?”

Damian doesn’t answer, but plants his spoon a little bit more aggressively in his gelato. Ah yes, maybe he was a tiny bit jealous that Dick had the luck to have their parents all for himself, once upon a time...Maybe.

“Well anyway, legend has it that mom chose the date.”

Dick takes a dramatic pause, making the siblings who already heard the story (so everyone but Duke) roll their eyes. Their oldest brother had a flair for dramatic retelling of past events.

“A long long time ago, on this day, when I was only 8 and just came into the family, they got into a bad fight. When I was little, before Jason came in, they got on the verge of breaking up a few times. Even did really broke up once, worst fucking time of my life, feeling like I was losing another family (A/N : referencing this story : The break-up)...”

A shot pause, this time, not for dramatics, but because the memory was genuinely painful and Dick had to take a short break. He continues :

“So anyway, on this day, a long time ago, Mom discovered how vital Alfred was to this family. She said it’d been a day where she wanted to literally kill our father because he was so damn annoying, and overly brooding, and stupid – her words not mine- and that Alfred calmed her in just a few words. I don’t quite know what he told her, or what he told dad. All I know is that he told me that he wouldn’t let them break-up again over a stupid fight, and um, next thing I know, I’m avoiding the East wing for a few hours.”

“Oh...Oh no Dick gross !”

Dick chuckles, enjoying a bit too much messing with his little siblings.

“Anyway, mom decided that Alfred deserved a day, in the year, where we would do everything HE wants because without him, our family would crumble. It just sort of became a tradition. So from midnight right now, to midnight of next day, no vigilante business. And we spend the day all together with him.”

“That’s actually...a really sweet story ?”

“It really is Dukie, it really is.”

“Dukie ?”

“Ah sorry, you’re part of the family now, which earns you a nickname from me. Jaybird. Timbo. Dami. Cass or Cassie if I feel like being a particularly doting older brother. So...had to find one for you. It was between Dukie and Dukester so-”

“Dukie is fine.”

Everyone snickers as Duke rolls his eyes, and then he asks :

“So...What exactly are we gonna do ?”

“Oh, well it’s simple. It starts at 8 am when we arrive, and we kick off with...”

4 am, Alfred’s bedroom.

You open the door to Alfred’s room quietly, as you would sometimes to make sure your children sleep.

This time, you were checking to see if the butler did really go to bed. One of the point of Alfred day, was that he had to feel perfectly fine, and he never had a full night rest !

So if you had to make sure he did during that time, then you would.

Your children had came home a few hours ago, happy they had some time with their oldest brother. Dick had been away often lately, and they missed him...You knew they were gonna guilt trip him into buying them a snack.

You and Bruce had had some alone time before they came home, that you definitely took advantage of...But for now, you escaped your husbands grip to come and check on Alfred, making sure he was sound asleep.

And he was. Good. Perfect. He’d have a good night sleep. A full night of sleep.

Quietly, you left the room again, unaware that a smile slowly rose on the Butler’s face...

8:02 am, Alfred Day :

Bruce is the one that opens the front door for them. They have their own keys, of course...but they both forgot them, as usual.

They’d normally just climb through a window, or sneak into the backyard, knowing where all the security devices were (the back door was never closed because of this), but decided that for this day, they’d just ring the bell and come in the right way.

Without much surprise, Bruce answers the door. It’d either be him or you, during Alfred’s day. Or anyone that wasn’t Alfred really.

Dick and Jason move to remove their shoes (house rules, NO SHOES inside) and coats, while Bruce looks at them, waiting for them so they can all walk back to the kitchen.

Jason is the fastest, and there’s this embarrassed silence between the three of them. Bruce smiles awkwardly at Jason, who looks away as soon as their eyes meet. With a “tt” very typical of his little brother, Jason says :

“Don’t misunderstand this, I’m here for Alfred. And...For mom.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

“Yes.”

Silence. Awkward, as Dick takes way too long to untie his shoes, and pretend he’s not hearing anything.

Bruce knows what he’s doing. He knows his oldest son is trying to give him some more time “alone” with Jason. But he’s not really sure what to say...

“I’m um...I’m glad you came.”

Good. That was good. Keep going on that path Bruce, that’s actually-

“Yeah, whatever. I’m going ahead, you know the way Dick.”

Damn. Almost there. Almost there with an actual moment between them two. Dick sighs, and puts a hand on his father’s shoulder.

“He’ll come around.”

Bruce doesn’t answer, he exhales slowly and nods, not very convinced...But today was not a day to dwell on the bad. Jason and him would make this work, if only for today.

Because today was Alfred’s day.

8h30 am, the Kitchen.

The butler came down in the kitchen, well rested and pleased to be greeted by his entire family. Your smiles already made his day perfect, and if “Alfred Day” was done in this instant, he’d still be happy.

“Sit down Pennyworth, we have made breakfast for you ! Well...Mom and father did...but we helped ! I was in charge of making tea ! And I think you will appreciate the way I brewed it. I followed an ancient Japanese recipe, and I reckon an aficionado like yourself will appreciate it.”

Damian bloomed when he was with his family. To people who didn’t know him as well as his siblings and parents, he could seem like a petulant and arrogant child, but he was the opposite of that.

He was insecure, and unsure. Scared of being left alone. And so to overcompensate all the fear instilled in him by years of abuse from his “grandfather”, the infamous Ras Al’Ghul, Damian could be quite a little jerk sometimes.

But when he was with his family...He opened up. He smiled. And he spend hours trying to brew the perfect cup of tea for the grandfather he actually chose to have.

“Bruce made your favorite Alf’, didn’t do half a bad job either -you smile at your husband, and give him a quick peck, which have the famous result of making your children make their best “ew” face-. You taught him well.”

You say, smiling widely at the butler.

It’s true, Alfred did teach Bruce how to cook really well. People often had the misconception the billionaire was bad at housework, which was wrong of course.

When his parents were alive, they’d insist he still had chores to do, so he wouldn’t be too spoiled. And when Alfred raised him, he taught him as much as he could so that the boy could hold his own.

Bruce was a great cook (you could definitely attest to that, what with him cooking your favorite meals on date nights and all). And he always made Alfred’s perfect breakfast for his special day.

“Jason and I just arrived so we didn’t really participate, but we picked up your favorite cake so it counts right ?”

Dick says, a wide smile on his face. Oh master Dick, Alfred blessed the day this little boy walked in their lives.

He wasn’t so little anymore, but he was always such a joy to have over. Even when he had his tantrum as a youngster (and now sometimes too, although he became better in controlling his burst of anger), Alfred couldn't help but love that child.

The butler turned to Jason, who shyly smiled at him and...Alfred’s heart was full.

“I am very happy to see you in this house, Master Jason.”

He said, as he sits around the kitchen table. Jason’s cheek tints slightly of red, as they always do when he’s a bit embarrassed and overwhelmed.

Jason was such a kind and sensitive child. He never quite got used to compliments, having been used to abuse and hate, and he would always blush under them. Alfred was glad to see that, even after the horror Jason went through, small things could still make his cheek turn rosy...

Jason sat down at the table, looking happier than he had in ages.

“For you.”

Cassandra said, settling in front of him a plate full of food, while Damian put the the cup of tea down.

Sweet little Cassandra. It was always a pleasure to hear her talk. Poor little thing was never taught love, or even how to talk...Having you in her life greatly helped. Having a family, greatly helped.

She still didn’t talk very often, but when she did, all of her words truly counted. She laid a small kiss on Alfred’s forehead, to bid him good morning, and went to sit in her usual spot, right between you and Damian.

“You will be happy to know, Alfred, that all of our electronic devices have been off since midnight last night ! Yes, even mine. Promise !”

Tim exclaims, smiling at him.

Tim was the only one out of all of Bruce’s children to have entered this life willingly. The only one that came knocking at their door, just really wanting to help.

Unfortunately, him too lost his parents over time (although they weren’t particularly great ones)...But the first impulse the boy had, was that he just loved Batman and wanted to give a hand !

Tim was selfless, maybe a little too much, and often worried you to death. He would get wrapped up in his projects even more than his father, and needed a constant reminder to take care of himself...task that you, Bruce, Alfred and his siblings would share gladly. He would give back anyway, working his ass off and putting his own life on the line for them any hour of the day...

At the furthest side of the table from him, sat Duke.

This was his first “Alfred Day”, and he was looking at things curiously, nonetheless happy to be here.

Young Duke’s situation was a little special. His parents were still alive, and he still hoped they’d find a cure for their madness. Because of this, the boy would often distance himself on purpose from some family events, finding it hard to find his own place.

This was one reason he didn’t wear the Robin mantel for long, and almost immediately went to be The Signal. It didn’t help either, that he was the only metahuman.

And yet...Yet as the days went by, Duke felt more and more at home at the Manor, and would more and more hang out with everyone. More and more felt like he was truly part of the family, now.

Of course, him moving to Wayne Manor was all very recent, and he needed time. Time that everyone was giving him willingly and gladly. Time to adjust and find his place.

But here, sitting around the kitchen table bustling with activity and laughter, Duke felt like...he felt like this Alfred Day brought him one step closer to truly be a part of it all. After all, to him too, the butler had been nothing but great.

Alfred had that talent, to congregate everyone around him...

You felt happy, there, sitting amongst your children, your love, and the man you came to consider your father.

Alfred had a good feeling, when he first met you. He knew. He knew you’d be the one to “tame” the bat, to not take his shit when he was being a jerk, and to give him unconditional love.

“Unconditional”.

It was important, to be in a relationship with a man like Bruce Wayne.

But oh. Oh he was giving you back every bits of love you ever gave him, times a hundred. He let you in in his world, and had no intention of ever letting you go.

Breakfast went by fast, as everyone talked away, and enjoyed each others company.

It was very rare, nowadays, that everyone could be in the same place. At least one of them would be busy normally. But on this day...on this day they surely made sure they would be free.

And so here they were, having breakfast altogether, happy.

If only people from the outside could see this scene; If only.

Then they’d know, just like Alfred knew, that this family was the strongest, tightest that ever existed, and that there was nothing but love between all of them.

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

11 am, the theater.

Before the first “Alfred Day” happened, Wayne Manor did not have a “theater”.

It had a “Ballroom number 3″.

It was your idea, to turn it into a small theater, so that Alfred could perform for everyone.

Over the years, you had realized that Alfred was actually a very talented actor. After all, he filled in Batman’s shoes many times, to pretend that Bruce couldn’t possibly be him. And he might’ve use his dramatic talent to convince you and the rest of your family to do what he wanted you to do...

Clever man.

On Alfred Day, the first activity, after breakfast, would be to take part in a monologue of his. Usually shakespearian. But sometimes he’d come up with small surprises. He once recited the “heaven” part of the Divine Comedy by Dante, because he knew you loved that poem.

It was absolutely brilliant, and you almost wished he had pursued an acting career instead of becoming the Wayne’s butler...but then, you would’ve never met him.

By 11 am, breakfast would usually be done and it was time for a performance of a year. By that time, Barbara and Stephanie would’ve join.

They didn’t live in the Manor, but they were close friend of the family. Friends that definitely knew how precious Alfred was to everyone.

This year, Alfred decided to entertain you with a series of short monologues taken from a wide array of material, from Shakespeare to movies. It was fascinating. They all had their snacks as if they were at the movie theater, and were captivated by his performance.

For Alfred, it was a way to relive his youth, working in London’s east end’s theaters. And to perform his hobby in front of a live audience.

So sure, maybe said live audience might’ve been a bit biased towards him, but he knew their applause and praises were genuine.

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

1 pm, East Wing living room.

Lunch was always skipped, as you snacked too much during Alfred’s performance, and he was never hungry after he acted.

You’d directly skipped to Alfred’s compliment session.

He both loved and hated this time. Loved it because it was a treat to see he positively impacted his family. Hated it because it was never comfortable to just hear people compliment you The moment they gave him a cherished memory they shared with him...

Each year, one by one, they would tell him something he did for them that really was important to them.

It was custom that the youngest would start. So Damian stood up, and said :

“My memory this year, is one that happened not long after I came to live in Wayne Manor. I had just gotten into a fight with Tim, and been mean to mom as she tried to talk to me about it...I felt terrible. I felt like I would never be someone good. Pennyworth came in my room, ignoring me when I told him to get away from me. He settled some cookies for me, and told me a story of my father when he was young. Of how stubborn he used to be, and how sometimes, he’d say very hurtful things he didn’t mean...Alfred explained to me that it was normal to feel angry, when we’re hurt. That it was ok to not always be on our best behavior. That the people who love us will understand, and do understand. That they’ll still be there if they really care. Then he left, and I went to apologize to my mom. And she was there. I also apologized to Tim, and him too, was there...”

Damian sat back down, avoiding everyone’s eyes, as he felt too overwhelmed with feelings. You threw an arm around his shoulder, and he instantly hid his face in your own shoulder, acting like a little scared kitten who’d hide under his mom.

It melted everyone’s heart, but nobody would say anything of course. This was between Damian and Alfred.

It was Duke’s turn, and he was a little nervous, as it was his first time :

“Mine is...Well...It’s going to sound so silly, after Damian’s heartfelt story, but one of my best memory with you Alfred, is when I first put The Signal mantel, and immediately hurt myself that night. I came back to the bat cave early, feeling shameful I couldn’t finish my patrol. You took care of my wound, and simply reassured me. It was just...soothing. I didn’t feel bad, as you stitched me up and calmed me down. I felt at peace, for the first time since my parents went mad...I can’t quite remember what you told me, as you just talked about random things, to calm me down. And it worked. As silly as it can sound, it worked. And that’s um...That’s when I started to feel good, here. Ok. That’s all.”

Duke sat back down too, hoping Tim would start speaking soon. Thankfully, he did.

“The memory I chose to share today, is one that is rather recent. I was struggling with some...self-worth issues. I felt like I could never fill dad’s shoes. Or Dick’s. Or Jason’s. Or anyone’s. I felt like I was trash. Like I was wasting away. I felt anxiety eating me up, and I was too scared to talk to anyone about it. Even to you, mom. I knew you’d find the right words, but I was just too scared you’d be worried about me. I know you worry a lot. So I didn’t say anything. Alfred walked in on me having a panic attack...and he helped me fight it. Then he scolded me because I didn’t tell anyone anything, and that it was a bad habit to always take all the burden on my shoulders. He then brewed me some tea, and talked about my favorite TV show with me to take my mind off of things...”

Tim smiled at Alfred, and sat down. You reached for him, and squeezed his hand, making him understand you too, were there. And you worried about all of them all the time anyway so, ya know.

It was Cass’ turn now. Cass always had some interactive things, because she never spoke too long. She held up some drawings she had made (with the help of Damian). It represented her at a ballet recital (to which you all went by the way, and which was amazing. Cass was a talented little star). She gave the small comics to Alfred, took a deep breath, and said :

“Thank you for helping me work on my dance, even when you were busy. You are a good teacher. For everything, from dance to how to make a perfect loaf of bread. I love your bread. I love your dance lesson. I love eating bread after our lessons. I love you more than bread. Even the sandwiches mom make with your bread and my favorite homemade jam.”

She then did a few ballet dance move, and sat down again, holding her knees with her arms, and breathing deeply. It was still a difficult exercice for her, to speak. And to convey her feelings through words. It was always difficult, and quite an exploit that she said that much.

Alfred smiled at her, before turning to Jason.

“I’ll never forget the day you yelled at Bruce because he tied me up after I stole the batmobile’s tires. How livid you were, and how you threatened him to tell everything to mom. How he instantly looked scared at the idea of her being angry, and how you made him realize he went too far. How you were there, every step of my way adapting to life in a mansion, after living in the streets. But yes, above all, I’ll never forget the day someone stood for me for the first time, when you yelled at da-Bruce. When you yelled at Bruce for me.”

He almost said “dad”. And that alone, was making Alfred’s heart happy. It was proof there still was some hope to salvage their relationship...

“Ok, well I’ll be quicker than everyone else. And just say : you’re the best grandfather I could ever ask for.”

With Dick, there was only two solutions. He would either go into a lengthy reenactment of a very specific event, or throw affirmations like that that would make Alfred feel tears coming to his eyes.

Today, Dick decided on a short and sweet version, and it fitted perfectly.

It was now your turn :

“Every year, I’m reminded how vital you are to this family. And every year, it is tough to chose just one memory I love about you. I always have to think, because there’s so many. But I think this year, I will choose that time I said “yes” to Bruce after refusing his marriage proposal three times, and you screamed in happiness, through your broom across the room, and ran to hug me. It was so out of character for you, it makes me happy just to think about it. But I mean, I can understand the excitement...I was pretty content myself.”

You smile, looking at your love, and he rolls his eyes at you, before smiling too. Of this pure smile he only shows you. And then he turns to Alfred, and tells him :

“You made the loss of my parents bearable. Without you, I don’t know what I would’ve done. I’d probably turn...very dark.”

There was a small silence.

Bruce’s speech was always short and to the point.

And every time they were all done talking, Alfred would find himself with tears in his eyes. With those last few words from his son, this time didn’t escape the rule, and he found himself dabbing at the corner of his eyes.

Damian’s next word released the emotional atmosphere as he looked at his father and said :

“Tt, show off.”

Everyone bursted in laughter, and this great day continued on...

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

4 pm, interlude.

This was Alfred’s few hours of utter peace. Everyone would leave him alone, and he could relax doing something he liked to do (usually reading or something of the sort) while not worrying about anyone.

You’d give him space. It was very rare, for Alfred to be all alone with his thoughts, thoughts that he was forced to NOT have about his family.

It was even rarer that he wouldn’t think about Bruce or you, or his “grandkids”. So in this day, when he knew none of them were doing anything dangerous, he took full advantage of it to relax his mind.

In the meantime, you’d watch a film or two.

Damian and Tim were in the process of choosing when Duke turned to Bruce, and a smirk on his face asked :

“Soooo…I heard Alfred Day exists because you annoyed (Y/N) ? »

Bruce glares at Duke, ah he never quite likes to remember why Alfred Day exists…But before he can answer, you enter the room (you went to get some snacks for the movies) and exclaim :

“Don’t let Dick downplay how truly unsufferable he was that day ! Dick always manages to forgive his dad, and make things less worst than they are. It’s a talent really. Annoying doesn’t even cover how awful he was. He had one of those « dark days », decided he should break up with me for my own safety out of literally nowhere, yelled at baby Dick, was mean to Alfred saying he could fire him…I swear I could’ve slapped him.”

“You tried.”

“And if Alfred hadn’t stopped me, I would’ve succeeded. Anyway. Yes. You see, Bruce and I almost broke up that day because he was being really stupid, and Alfred...salvaged everything.”

“I was being stupid indeed...I almost lost...I...”

Sometimes, when he would remind himself of that day he almost went too far and truly drove you away, Bruce would feel almost like an anxiety attack coming over him. Because if he had lost you, and had continue on the path he was taking with Dick...Well he wouldn’t have had that second shot at having a family.

And it was enough of a frightening thought to be overwhelmed with anxiety.

“To be honest, I also was quite stupid. I can be stubborn too, sometimes. And there were time, at the beginning, where I wouldn’t try to be in your place...”

You say, letting soothing fingers run through his hair, a motion you knew always relaxed him. Bruce instantly calmed down, as your kids made some disgusted faces at your closeness, and the incident was over.

It was good, though, that Duke asked. First because it was actually pretty funny to think of the fearless Batman getting his ass kicked by his wife...but also because it was a good reminder to him of what he almost lost, and who he used to be.

Alfred saved him.

You saved him.

His children saved him.

And now, he could appreciate a relaxing movie time with all of you (minus Alfred, who was in his room, probably devouring the cake you got him (because yes, that cake was for him and him only), finally relaxed).

The movie chosen, everyone took their usual spot on the massive couch, that Bruce had ordered specifically so that his big family could all fit on.

At one point, both you and Bruce drifted off to sleep, in each others’ arms, and barely noticed your kids placing a blanket on you, rolling their eyes at how teeth rotting sweet you two were.

6 pm, a walk through the park.

Alfred loved Wayne Manor’s gardens.

And he loved even more peacefully walk through them with his family.

This was the time you were always reminded how massive the “backyard” was, when you’d go through acres of it.

The kids would play soccer, baseball, football, or anything really. Alfred would often join. He was actually very athletic, and the kids would fight to have him on their team.

You and Bruce would take part in it too, and your children would always make sure you’d be in the same team. Sure, sometimes you’d stop playing to smooch each others, like two damn teenagers...BUT, having you both on the same team would avoid triggering your crazy competitive minds.

For some reason, whenever you had to play against each others, you’d both get very ruthless and petty, and it would often time get annoying (for real, you were forbidden to play UNO since a long time by then).

You’d all spend some times outside, no matter the weather, enjoying a normal family outing.

Alfred loved this time of the day.

Because he loved the gardens, but most of all, he loved seeing his family being happy and together...

9:30 pm, the dinner.

Dinner was entirely prepared by you, and Alfred only had to come at the table and wait.

By then, you had a perfect system that made it so the meal was prepped efficiently. It was Alfred’s favorite, of course.

The table would be filled with all his favorite meals, prepared mainly by Bruce with you guys’ help.

Your kids would pretend to be waiter in a fancy restaurant, and exaggerate everything, which was very funny.

And you’d all share a meal, something that was quite rare, in this day and age.

In fact, you were pretty sure that your entire family being reunited for a dinner happened max three times a year. For the holiday season, for Alfred Day, and for Batman day (you just thought it was funny to celebrate it).

This was just a time to catch up, and to be together.

Alfred would ask countless questions to everyone, and everyone would be polite and listen. It’d just be so nice, and relaxing...

11:30 pm, almost the end.

The day would end in the batcave, with everyone enjoying each others’ presence for a few more minute before you’d go back to a “normal” life.

You’d talk about your favorite moment of the day, and how you always really liked “Alfred day”.

And then it’d be over. Alfred would retake his butler position, and the Batman would prowl the streets of Gotham once more.

You’d be their home support again, working the computer often, and you-

Ah. Yes. But not yet.

There were still a few minutes. And it sounded like the perfect time for you to finally talk about a certain news...

You see, Alfred was the one you went to to vent. You loved your family with all your heart... But anyone knowing them just à little bit knew they could be à handful. And Alfred, he was always there.

So it just seemed fitted for you, that you’d announce this news on that day. While everyone was around, and celebrating Alfred’s existence.

Because what you were about to say, was one of Alfred’s dearest hope...

12:28 pm, 2 minutes before the end.

You waited the very last minute, because you thought the effect would be even better.

And as your husband and kids were ready to leave, you said :

“Oh wait, I have one last thing to say on this very special day !”

They all stopped, and turned around, looking at you. You smiled. Nervous, but happy. You knew that you and Bruce wanted this anyway, so it would be fine. And you knew your kids...your kids would be happy. For sure.

But Alfred. Alfred would be over the moon. And so, without further ado, you said :

“I’m pregnant !”

Bruce’s eyes went wide, and his mouth opened dumbly. He froze on the spot, before smiling widely and starting to laugh stupidly. His first reaction was to go to Alfred, which you were expecting.

Your children all reacted at the same time, rushing you like a wave of noise and excited screams and...pfiouh they could be overwhelming.

Alfred was indeed over the moon.

And he was the one calming your children, tearing them off of you so he could hug you, and give you some space, too.

Because that’s what Alfred did. Take care of you. Of his family.

And Alfred day, this year, ended with him looking at you and Bruce hugging tightly, overjoyed by the news of a future new little addition to the family.

Up until next year, and this future baby’s first Alfred day...

_________________________________________________

Annnnd it’s 9:12 am, kept my promise to post something “today” haha. Probably not the best time to post. Buuuut...well, another sleepless night (or early morning, all about perspective really haha) of writing. I’m definitely back :). I hope you liked this story, I’m a little nervous after being gone for so long, I feel like I don’t know how to write anymore, and this is all very...mmmmbadhgezhe. I still do hope you liked it a little bit.

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3.

1K notes · View notes

mmvalentine · 4 years ago

Text

Home is Where You Are pt 5 | Feysand

Girl next door AU. CW: Tamlin DV times under the cut. It gets better though, there's HEAPS of fluff that follows I promise!! Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6

Rhys and Feyre stayed up talking for a little bit, Rhys poured her a glass of brandy and tried not to say too much as she recounted the night's events.

They had gotten into a fight. Tamlin had gotten angry. He was always angry, these days. Tamlin threw a desk, and knocked Feyre to the ground. An accident, just an accident.

"And... him controlling your food intake?" "Not an accident," Feyre admitted. "It started out as meal plans, when he was my personal trainer. And then we were dieting together, because he had done all this research. Then it was just me. I don't know where I lost control of it, I just stopped having opinions one day." She laughed, bitterly. "Not like me at all." "It's hard to form coherent thoughts when you're starving all the time," Rhys said.

Bottom line, Feyre had done it. Gave him back the ring and everything. There was a part of Rhys that was relieved but he also felt awful for having let it get this far. For not stepping in earlier.

"I should have said something," he told her. "You did," Feyre said. "I didn't listen." She pulled her feet up under her.

"It's just, I never had anyone look after me, you know? Not since I was thirteen. So, when Tamlin came along, and he dictated my exercise schedule and cooked my meals, it was nice. For once I wasn't the one running after everyone else. I guess I became afraid to leave.

"Until he threw a table and I remembered telling you that Tamlin wasn't your father. I was sort of right. Tamlin didn't even have to be drunk to start throwing furniture. I shouldn't have stayed so long."

Rhys slid a little closer to her and made sure she was looking into his eyes. "It is not your fault that this happened," he said. "This is no one's fault but Tamlin's."

In the weeks that followed, Feyre bounced back at a rate that had Rhys marveling at the strength of her. She was quiet the first couple of days, and mostly stayed in her room. But Rhys would come invite her to taste what he was cooking, or watch what was on Netflix, or give an opinion on the magazine piece he was working on. The bruise on her cheek faded, she gained weight back little by little, and then one day Rhys came home to find her humming in the kitchen while she made spaghetti and he wanted to pick her up in his arms and spin her around the room.

Instead, he settled for sitting on a bar stool and letting her bring a spoonful of sauce to his lips, while wearing the biggest, goofiest grin he had ever had. "Good?" Feyre asked. "Amazing," Rhys said, and when she beamed at him it knocked the breath out of him. "Excellent. Give me like, ten minutes and then come eat." Rhys raised his eyebrows. "You're cooking me dinner?" he asked. "I am. Now go take a shower and put on your comfy pants, because I made so much garlic bread."

Rhys didn't move. Feyre put the ladle back in the pot, wiped her hands on a tea towel, then realised he was staring at her. "What?" she asked. Her blue-gray eyes went wide, and a wisp of hair fell into her face. She had her curls piled on top her her head, beautiful and shiny again now that she was eating, and she was wearing a knitted, over-sized sweated that was rolled up at the sleeves and somehow looked incredible on her.

"Feyre Archeron you are a wonder," Rhys said. Feyre grinned. "Why thank you, Rhysie darling." She flicked the tea towel at him. "Now get, my garlic bread is burning." Ten minutes later, Rhys sat at a small, round table in sweat pants and a black sweater. It was the table from his balcony, but since it was raining out, Feyre had dragged it inside and draped a table cloth over it. She fussed around him, setting everything on the table and slapping his hands when he tried to help. Finally, she sat down opposite him, and the table was so small their knees knocked together.

"And just what is the occasion here?" Rhys asked. Feyre's cheeks were rosy from standing over the stove, and then rushing around the table. She smiled at him, and then took a deep breath.

"I just wanted to say, thank you. For giving me a place no one could find me. For seeing me. For reminding me that carbs exist!" She grinned. "For-" "Don't," Rhys cut her off. "Don't thank me for doing the bare minimum for you. After everything you've been though, you amaze me every day with how strong you are." "Well," Feyre said, "if you can survive after your dad..." Her face changed then. Her mouth got sad, but her eyes were bright. "I can survive after Tamlin." She raised her wine glass.

"Fuck those abusive shit heads," she said. Rhys picked up his glass. "Fuck yeah."

Then Feyre smiled again, and Rhys had no idea how he was going to get through dinner if she kept doing that.

"Okay eat up!" she said, and he laughed into his wine as he watched her twirl and then devour an enormous mouthful of spaghetti. A fucking wonder indeed.

Over the next six months they settled into an easy routine. Feyre was at the studio three days a week, and also started a kick boxing class with another woman she had met in her therapy group. Rhys started to wish his days away so he could get home and watch Feyre bounce around the apartment. He had never particularly enjoyed being there, but these days he couldn't wait to get home.

They cooked together on the weekends, and watched TV on the couch on week nights. At first, Rhys had been very careful about being in her personal space, since he remembered hating to be touched for years after his father had died. But Feyre seemed so comfortable around him. She would grab his arm when she thought of something funny to tell him, or smack him when he teased her, or lean against him when she started to doze in front of the television. After she started her class, she would practice her kick-boxing moves on him, and once accidentally hurt him more than she had meant to. It had been utterly, completely worth it.

They never outright discussed how long she would stay. Early on, Feyre had mentioned apartment hunting. But Rhys had just shrugged. "It's rent controlled here," he said. "And I'm paying for that room whether you're in it or not. Stay as long as you like."

So little pieces of Feyre started to appear all around the house. Her toiletries in the kitchen cabinet, stray hair ties on the bench top, her favourite biscuits in the cupboard. Once, he had come home and she had a row of underwear hanging up over the balcony. He had almost had a conniption at the thought of her in lace.

It was a thought he buried, hard. The last thing he wanted was to have told Feyre that she could come and be safe here, and then make a move less than a year after her broken engagement. If she wanted a quiet life here with him, that would absolutely be enough.

Although, some days were harder than others. The thoughts could be shoved aside, but he had no control over the way his body reacted to her. To her barefoot in the morning and rubbing sleep from her eyes. To her stretching in the living room before a run. God, one time the washing machine broke and she had nothing to wear, so she borrowed one of his shirts to wear to bed. It was almost cruel.

One day, Rhys had worked late and by the time he was home, Feyre had fallen asleep in front of the TV. He turned the screen off, then squatted down and gazed at her resting face. Her perfect, rose petal lips were slightly parted, she had a frown, and was muttering under her breath.

"Feyre," he whispered. "Feyre we've got to get you to bed." "Rhys," she murmured. He thought she was waking up. "Yes honey, it's just me." Then she moaned his name. "Rhys, don't stop." What? "Mm, right there, don't stop."

Rhys stood up so fast he nearly tripped over the coffee table. The sound of his heel kicking the wood had Feyre startling awake.

"Rhys?" she asked. He had to double check her eyes were actually open this time. When he was sure, he sat down carefully on the table.

"Hello," he said. "I'm sorry to wake you." "It's okay," Feyre frowned. "We were just... I was dreaming." Rhys chuckled. "I know. You fell asleep on the couch. Do you want to go to bed?" Feyre's eyes popped open wide. "What?!" Then she relaxed. "Oh. Right. Yes, I should, ah..." she looked at him then, and blushed. Very deeply. "I should go to bed."

And with that, she wandered off, leaving Rhys completely dazed and not just a little turned on.

Two days later, Rhys woke up on a Saturday and had trudged out to make some coffee. Feyre was already up, sitting at the counter reading a book. He turned on the machine, yawned, and stretched while waiting for it to do its thing. He hadn't worn a shirt to bed, and the morning chill sent shivers along his bare skin.

Then he glanced over, and found Feyre staring at him. Glassy eyed, parted lips, naked staring. And not at his face, either. A feline grin stretched itself over Rhys' lips.

"Good book, Feyre darling?" She jumped sightly. "Ah, yes," she said. "Very... very good." She slid off her stool. "I'd better get ready, kick boxing, you know." "Sure," Rhys said, still grinning. She slipped away, without making eye contact. Rhys poured his coffee.

Five minutes later, Feyre emerged wearing the tiniest pair of exercise shorts he had ever seen. He almost spat his drink.

"Well," she said brightly. "I'm headed off. Might go by the shops later, do you need anything?"

Now it was Rhys' turn to struggle. He shook his head. "Have fun," he managed. Feyre flashed him a dazzling smile. "Thanks!" she said, and bounced out the door.

Oh. Oh he was in trouble.

****

That's right folks, you have made it through the angst and I am now burying you in fluff. Nothing brings me greater joy except smut.

I apologise for the length and for squishing 6 months into this one chapter. It was originally two separate chapters, but I felt like I was undercutting you in the fluff department and I didn't want to break my promise. I kept the original pacing on my ao3.

As always please let me know what you think!!

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-babies @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @asteria-of-mars@booksmusicandgoodvibes @burritowithfeels

#feysand #feysand fic #acotar #acosf #angst #rhysand #mine

35 notes · View notes

lilikags · 3 years ago

Note

Hello hello, hope you're doing well, may I request a matchup please?(hopefully im not late lmao)

Fandom: epic seven

Preference: males

My type : (kayron is my type lmao) harsh on outside mushy as molten chocolate on the inside

Hobbies: art, writing (barely), baking.

Habits:

Drinking too much coffee

I tend to be a bit pushy sometimes

Two moods: do everything way ahead of schedule or do it last minute

Sometimes I'm busy so I'm just like : my medicine sure can wait another hour

I shower with cold water during the winter and when I catch a cold I always go surprised pikachu face like I seriously wasn't the reason

Step 1: go to fridge for snack, step 2: open fridge, step 3: no snack, step 4: go to room, step 5: let 3 minutes pass then do it again as if the fridge is gonna give birth to food

"I'll just draw for 15 minutes then I sleep" proceeds to stay up till 5 am then raise my head up and realise I got a neck cramp from staying in awkward position for too long

Getting a new food bowl for my dog randomly and seeing her question what new entity it is and if it is hostile or not (its funny af to watch sometimes I wake up at 2 am to her barking at a bowl and I start laughing I dont even need to change it I just do it cause her reaction is soo adorable

Its either I sleep with jeans or im a weakling, I'm not a weakling

I always have that one sketch book that I keep locking in a drawer just in case a friend stumbles on it and finds it, in case you are wondering why, its that sketch you don't want anyone to see for very obvious reasons

Thanks as always, take care and enjoy he rest of your day ♡

I match you with...

okay hear me out this is more of a discussion- BUT- he and kayron are the same type of person except this one is has such loyalty to schniel that- anyways, he is like kayron but less violent. yes, that is the main point here. this man understands (logically) why you drink so much coffee but also does not understand (emotionally). he just is always on that schedule. does not mind if you're pushy or anything he's dealt with idiots that almost get themselves badly injured unnecessarily more times than someone just being pushy. he has the patience of like, a dead dinosaur (aka a lot of patience)- unless someone is dying then uh, he'll be rushing to save them. he doesn't understand procrastination. he just does work as it is done and when he is done he moves onto something else there's always something to do. it's a topic to ponder upon (when you procrastinate) he also ponders upon the dog and her new items. it's simply amusing

this man also just like, is a decent cook and will cook when there is no food. he learned decently and didn't find much joy in it but he'd enjoy making it for you. he food he makes does taste good though ngl. if he sees you up late he'll literally shut off your light and say that it's time to sleep. literally, this man makes the decision that it is too late to be awake and simply acts on it. ... no comment on the jeans

ah. yes. that one. tywin pretends it doesnt exist <3

#epic seven #epic 7 #e7

4 notes · View notes

slightlymore · 4 years ago

Text

cute~

- a pride spin-off -

pairing: haechan x mark

other characters: doyoung, jaemin, jungwoo, onew (??? only bc I needed a name 😔)

genre: angst!! smut! fluff!!! one-shot, company!au (you can read this without reading "pride" first but make sure to read at least the little synopsis below, just to have some kind of context for the first part)

warnings: 18+, language, sexual activities, alcohol, drunk characters

words: 14K (oops)

for those who didn’t read pride and don't want to: doyoung and y/n are in love with each other but because of a series of unfortunate events (them being stupid) they can’t be together. doyoung leaves her after college and starts working at haechan’s company while being miserable; the two boys become enemies/friends. everything goes relatively well until one day y/n makes an appearance and starts working there as well. doyoung and y/n finally get (their shit) together and become a couple. haechan is the happy friend witnessing all of that and this is his story

(the photo was meant to be a shitpost but now I kinda like it lmaooo)

The phone rang for the millionth time that morning, a piercing and resounding noise, making Haechan unable to hear his own thoughts. The boy groaned. It was only 10 am yet everyone suddenly needed to speak with him. Haechan would have loved to spend his workday gossiping on the phone. Maybe chit-chatting about everyone. Listening to his colleagues talk about George's new too-expensive-for-his pockets-but-he's-an-idiot car, or the scandalous hairstyle Alex tried out to impress his already-married-and-twenty-years-older flame, or to hear how someone heard from someone else that somebody had sex with someone somewhere. But not that day. Haechan was exhausted, physically, and mentally, head buried between his arms, the white noises of the office almost putting him to sleep. The infernal device stopped ringing for a second and the young man sighed relieved before it rang again soon after. Haechan whined, almost sobbing, while lightly hitting his forehead on the desk. A soft 'what the fuck' made him raise his face with pained eyes squinting from the sudden too much light. "Are you alright?", the same voice asked, his desk neighbour inquiring. "Mind your own business, Owen", Haechan mumbled and finally put one hand on the phone while massaging the base of his nose with the other. "... my name is Onew", the dude whispered offended, but Haechan's little attention was already drifting away. A female voice said something that Haechan couldn't catch but to which he replied with a short "yeah, thanks", having figured out the words "intern" and "acceptance" through her quick mumbling. When he first heard the news during the beginning of the year reunion, Haechan was ecstatic, to say the least. They said he was responsible and could handle taking care of an intern making Haechan's shoulders widen at the compliments. Also, having an innocent soul to bother for a few months? It meant some company and less work for himself. Paradise. But Haechan had already forgotten about the joy he felt before. He had been feeling weird for a while now and he hated it. The previous night he didn't go home after Doyoung and Y/N left the company building. He listened to them talk for an excruciating period while pretending to sleep. It was beautiful, choked voices and raw confessions, and he felt like the third wheel in his own life. When Haechan walked out of his office one day, months before that, with the intention of "grabbing something important from somewhere" (or taking a break while making it pass as work) and heard the loud bang of the neighbour office door, he didn’t think that his life would go spiralling down from that moment on. It took him days. No, it took him weeks, maybe months, before the uncomfortable feeling creeping on him, making his spine shiver and palms sweat could be classified as something real by his brain. As a feeling. Sitting down on his chair, tired fingers tapping away at the keyboard for hours, he would suddenly feel this ungodly urge to get up and go to that office again as if an obscure force possessed him. To do what? To see a pair of angry eyes. Angry and full of pain. They were beautiful: round but also angled, dark but also light, absent as if looking at anything but their surroundings. Looking at something only they could see. That thing, sadly, was never Haechan. The boy tried everything to be seen by them. Being friendly, being funny, being helpful. Then he tried being rude. To his immense joy, the latter worked better, as if those eyes hatched such an enormous amount of anger that they had to spill some onto someone. And Haechan didn’t mind being that someone if it also meant being the object of those eyes’ attention at the same time. Then he realized that he didn’t want to see only the eyes. Something else was fighting for Haechan’s regard. Pink and soft looking, often stretched in a line, sometimes forming a pout. God, Haechan would have done everything to be able to touch those lips even once, even for a second. And he did it during his most feverish dreams. The first time, he woke up panting, ashamed, shaken to the core, the feeling of that soft skin still ghosting his own lips. The second time Haechan raised a trembling hand and touched the place where his subconsciousness created such a realistic scenario. He caressed it slowly, laying in that obscure slumber, silently, afraid to wake up his rational side. The third time he didn’t need to dream. He just imagined, shamelessly. His lips got kissed and his name was pronounced with such lust and desire to leave Haechan panting. So real, as if Doyoung whispered that while being beside Haechan in his room. It took Doyoung a few good weeks to call Haechan by his name in real life. When he finally did it, he wasn't even scolding him. No. From weird conjunction of stars, Haechan didn’t need to do something to gain Doyoung’s attention that day. He was in the photocopying room. One hand was mindlessly using the machines, the other was warmly hugging a mug of coffee. His slowly descending glasses were being pushed back by one of his fingers when a fluttering shadow appeared behind him. Haechan’s hands stopped as if his crawling skin could physically predict the future. “Haechan”, Doyoung said. Just like that, sweet and soft. And the boy with that name let his coffee mug fall to the ground. Oh. “Haechan!” Doyoung repeated. “What the hell?” Yes. Yes. Haechan. That’s me. That’s my name on your lips. Say it again. “Haechan! You’re doing this on purpose now”. Doyoung stood tall with hands on his hips, looking at the way Haechan was failing to grab his mug, letting it comically slip from his hands, again and again, new coffee stains covering the carpet. I just love how my name sounds in your mouth. I don't want you to stop. Please. “Oops”, Haechan chuckled, the mask he carefully crafted for Doyoung easily slipping on his face, and despite everything, Doyoung rolled his eyes with a little smile himself. “You’re such an idiot”. Oh fuck. That. Haechan almost forgot. The boy could drown in the light that Doyoung’s face emitted when he was smiling. It would dissipate for a split second the darkness lingering around him and it was Haechan’s doing. Haechan did that. It made his little heart buzz every time and soon enough he started to fantasize about a day in which Doyoung would not have that expression line between his eyebrows anymore. And it arrived eventually. Haechan realized everything would go downhill for himself when he got blinded by Doyoung’s soul. He could see it before as well but not this way. Not while the older man's cheeks got red and his pupils were trembling. And Haechan understood soon what that was because a sick person recognizes another sick person easily. Was Haechan like that as well? Were his cheeks flushed and eyes glossy every time he looked at Doyoung? Ah, Doyoung’s soul. He took it out so suddenly and poured it into that girl’s hands. Haechan felt like dying. No. No, wait. It's supposed to go like this. I should be there. I worked so hard. I endured so much. It can’t end like this. This is my story. Isn’t it? And it was, but not the type of story Haechan imagined. In this universe it ended in him being alone, bones cold and empty, looking at Doyoung’s back as he carried his love in his arms. Haechan stayed back there, motionless, no arms holding him. He bit his lips for a little while, looking around the office as if not knowing on which planet he was. Then he crouched down and cried. He was tired. Yeah, he was just tired. It has been a long week and a long day. He was exhausted. That was the reason. Haechan, you're good. Just get a good night sleep. You’ll be fine. Now get up and go home. And he did that. Like a robot. He was alone inside the 4 am metro, blinding, fluorescent lights burning his fatigued eyes. His feet dragged him towards his apartment although he found himself knocking on Jaemin's door instead. Jaemin was a weird guy and Haechan loved him dearly. He just never slept. Every time Haechan called him, he somehow was wide awake doing some random shit. Haechan hoped that he didn't suddenly change his habits because he desperately needed some arms to crash into. And Jaemin opened the door as expected, a popsicle between his lips, eyes wide and bright. Haechan stepped inside and took the snack away, putting his lips on Jaemin's instead, pushing him against the wall, letting the coldness of Jaemin's tongue numb his thoughts. And he let the popsicle fall from his fingers when Jaemin wrapped him between his arms, guiding him towards the bedroom, no questions asked, no romance. I need a distraction right now, Haechan's whole being was screaming and Jaemin was good at reading people. Quickly and effortless, clothes sliding down, Haechan's mind finally lingered in a grey bliss as the only thing he could think of was the way Jaemin rolled his hips into him, sending shots of pleasure through his whole body. But then Haechan's slipped. "Doyoung-", he whimpered then gasped, eyes wide with horror and cheeks reddening. Jaemin didn't care if Haechan called other guys’ names but when Haechan put his palms on his face, chest rising and falling quickly, sobbing desperately, Jaemin stopped and sighed. He let Haechan go and rolled over, wrapping his shaking frame with his arms. "Do you want to talk?" he asked softly. Haechan shook his head, burying it into the other's chest. Jaemin stayed quiet, the only sound in the dark room being Haechan's irregular breaths, his fingers delicately drawing patterns on the other’s skin. "It's going to get better", Jaemin whispered after a while. "You're going to be seen by someone one day, just like you see everyone else”. It was weird how Jaemin always had the perfect thing to say. Though Haechan didn’t believe that, he had no force to argue. He stayed like that for the next hour, in silence, until the sun came out. Then he got up and let Jaemin prepare his breakfast that he barely touched. Haechan then borrowed the other's clothes and said it was fine for him to go to work that morning. You have to be sick to be able to call in sick, Haechan said. Because you’re someone that follows rules and does an honest job, Jaemin commented sarcasting with a raise of the brow. I just need to be busy, Haechan added and left.

Now, heading towards the acceptance, he regretted not staying home, maybe sleeping the whole day. Sleeping would be good but dreaming? He was afraid of that. The squeaking sound of Haechan’s shoes on the main floor tiles was so distressing that Haechan felt like taking them off and throw a tantrum in the middle of all those white collars. Blinking fast he sighed when he saw the new guy, an anonymous-looking young man looking around as if uncomfortable and slightly afraid. Haechan introduced himself in a monotone voice, letting the intern shake his hand then he turned around with a short 'follow me', not giving the other time to do anything else besides tailing his supervisor. Haechan has been babbling about the company for a good five minutes now, walking quickly through the corridors, showing rooms and people. He wasn't doing a very good job because he didn't care. The new guy, weirdly enough, didn't seem disoriented at all and Haechan shrugged internally. "And this is the terrace", the boy finally finished his monologue as they both stepped outside. It was a sunny day but the wind was quite strong, making Haechan close his eyes as his fluffy hair danced around his forehead. "Cute," the guy commented with a soft chuckle. Haechan looked around. Cute? It was kinda cute, he guessed. Too many ugly buildings around though and it wasn't the best-kept terrace. He turned his head to face the intern. "What's cute?" Haechan asked. It was the first word that guy said and Haechan wanted to hear him speak. The intern was looking at him already instead of the surroundings and Haechan could have sworn that the dude's cheeks were flushed with a pink hue. "You are", he said shyly, eyes big and twinkling. Haechan could only blink back. Wait. What? Did this guy just call him cute? Cute? "Listen, thanks, but you have to pay me respect. I'm your supervisor", Haechan replied trying hard to keep his voice stable. He wasn't annoyed but he couldn't just giggle, could he? Also, who calls strangers cute? On the workplace? What a weirdo. The guy’s expression shifted at Haechan’s words as if in slow motion. "Oh God, sorry, I don't know what just happened. I apologize. It was inappropriate", the intern babbled and stuttered, cheeks going from pink to red, eyes darting around, not knowing where to look. Haechan has never seen someone that transparent with his feelings before and he could tell that he was very honest. Looking so naive, Haechan fought the urge to roll his eyes at him just to make him feel even more embarrassed. "I can't fire you personally or anything and I'm not your boss, but I can tell people to fire you", Haechan tried to sound cold even if the situation was rather funny. The look the guy gave to Haechan was of pure terror a for a split second Haechan felt almost sorry. But then the dude’s eyes darted to Haechan’s hair, still flying around his forehead. Haechan puffed annoyed and put one hand on top of his head as to stop the motion. The intern’s expression relaxed. "And what are you going to say? That it's because I called you cute?" he asked. His lips were back into a timid smile. Haechan was baffled. "What is so cute about me?", he sniffled, sure that he caught a cold already and switched the hand from his hair to his ear as the wind got even stronger. The intern took the question seriously. "You have curly purple hair-", he started then stopped as if that was enough to explain his comment, "-and well, your cheeks are full and now they're uhm red and it's... very cute. Also, your eyes are big and round and it's very cute-"

Haechan groaned incredulously.

"Oh my God! Stop saying cute", he spoke up to make his voice heard over the loud rumble of the wind, before turning on his heels and walking towards the terrace door. The intern’s cheeks turned pink again as he tried hard to not add whatever he wanted to say.

_______

Mark was told that he was somewhat of a dense guy. He disapproved. He just paid attention to what he wanted and disregarded the rest. So, if you asked him to show off the company to you, what tasks he had to do or where the bathroom was, he wouldn't know where to start. But if you asked him to tell you how many moles Haechan Lee the Supervisor had, he could answer in a second. It was weird and Mark wasn't a romantic person at all. But when he saw the guy walking out the elevator, eyebrows furrowed and dark circles underneath a pair of tired and red eyes, Mark felt a tingle in his stomach that he could only describe as love at first sight. Okay. Maybe not love. Crush at first sight? Attraction? Mark didn't know what that was and it made him so confused that he could only look at the guy's back when walking around the company as if it could give him some answers. Haechan, he said while letting Mark shake his hand. Of course. It fit him perfectly. Mark could see it - the sun - underneath his skin. Their fingers parted ways too quickly after shaking hands and Mark felt so paralyzed by the sudden tingle on his skin that he couldn’t fully pay attention. Was he also warm to the touch? Mark desperately wanted to find out. Was it weird? He was being weird. But God, he was so cute. Cute. Very cute. Cute. Cute. So fucking cute.

This is all Mark’s mind was thinking about and when Mark thought about something he would just say it. Just like that. Cute. Don’t say it now though. Cute. I swear, Mark, shut up, for once. So cute. Please, not now. “Cute”, his tongue slipped.

Goddammit.

“What’s cute?” Haechan asked. The view. The view is cute. The view, Mark. Mark, say it. Mark, are you listening? The view. “You are”, Mark said instead and Haechan suddenly turned even cuter. Mark gasped, firstly because of the way Haechan’s cheeks turned red and his eyes round and big, then after a good full second that felt like an eternity, because of embarrassment. Oh shit. Fired. He was about to get fired. "God, sorry, I don't know what just happened. I apologize. It was inappropriate", Mark felt like running away. He woke up that morning with the intent of finally living the life he worked so hard for and there he was instead, calling strangers cute and making everyone uncomfortable for the sole reason of not being able to shut his mouth for once. Haechan looked embarrassed as he was though and that little detail made Mark hope that it wasn’t all over. Then Haechan shut some cold blinds on his own face and Mark knew that Haechan thought he was safe, that Mark wasn’t able to see his feelings underneath all that. It wasn’t an efficient job and Mark wondered if other people needed just that little act to not see Haechan anymore.

_______

"Good morning". Haechan saw the intern’s feet first before hearing his voice, but he didn't raise his face as suddenly something very important and urgent was being shown on the computer screen and he couldn't physically let his eyes fall on the way the guy wore his suit.

It was terrible. Long legs and strong thighs on display right in front of his desk? Terrible, and he didn’t need any more distractions in the workplace. After the intern left for the day with a soft “see you on Monday”, both tired having spent most of the time walking around the company and explaining boring paperwork, Haechan had not been able to stop thinking about him the whole weekend. No. No, it wasn’t a crush or anything. Haechan was just, what’s the word? baffled, s h o c k e d, appalled. Some random guy called him cute and Haechan acted that way? Blushing timidly? Was he feeling that bad? Was he that sick? Unacceptable. He was Haechan, for fuck’s sake. And Haechan didn’t just blush. He could not slip anymore. "Yeah, hi Mike", he replied lazily, fingers typing something he didn’t really need to write. "It's Mark", the intern replied in a neutral tone. Haechan knew it was Mark. In fact, he also knew his full name. Mark Lee. Born on August 2nd, 1999. Toronto. Moved to Vancouver. Graduated from university a few years ago. Great grades. Interested in music and sports. Plays the guitar. Good boy. Loves animals. Does charity work regularly. Has a normal amount of friends. Doesn't know how to take selfies. No, he was not being weird. He just read his CV.

Obviously.

He was his supervisor. He needed to read that. The other info? He Googled him only to make sure that he wasn't a criminal. And the social media research? It was just to check on his personality.

Obviously.

What if he posted about illegal shit? He had to check every photo and tagged person. It was part of his job. He was single, even if Haechan didn't search for that in particular. Haechan loved his work a lot and he didn't care that he worked on that until 3 am, scrolling through his phone, drifting to sleep with Mark's selfies impregnated on his lids. It's just that he took his job seriously.

Okay. Okay.

It wasn’t the whole truth. Haechan was curious. Who calls you cute all of a sudden? Haechan had to know more.

"Okay, Matt. What about you go and bring me a coff-", Haechan started but got interrupted by a hand, delicately placing a cup of steamy coffee in front of him. Haechan stared at it as if not understanding what that was then finally raised his eyes to meet Mark's gentle ones. He was smiling. "I stalked your Instagram. Full of food and coffee", Mark explained honestly with a shrug while walking around the desk and sitting down on his chair. They had to share a desk and Mark was as close as to touch elbows. Haechan hated having people so close to him when he didn't want them; especially at that moment, as Mark rested his head on his hand and just stared.

Yeah, he stared. His eyes were piercing, looking at Haechan as if that’s what normal people do. Scanning him from head to toe, then looking into his eyes as if able to see something there.

Haechan ignored him and looked away. "Stalking my social media is problematic, Mike". Mark chuckled lightly. "You did the same". Haechan's head snapped. "And why would I do that?”. Mark shrugged. "Close the tabs if you didn't want me to find out," he smiled staring at Haechan's laptop.

The younger’s eyes suddenly widened and with a quick hand, he closed it in a second, cheeks hot with shame. He opened his mouth to say something to get himself out of that embarrassing situation but Mark thankfully didn't give him any time.

"What are we doing today, sir?" he asked instead with a sly smile. "We write codes", Haechan replied quietly. "Fun", was Mark's comment.

And they did that the whole morning, ignoring each other's knees as they sometimes brushed against each other. And they ignored the way their knuckles touched when both reached for their own cup of coffee. And Haechan ignored Mark's cologne while Mark ignored the way the computer lights made Haechan's skin glow. Mark loved programming, he always did, but that morning he thought that it would be nice to not be a programmer, just for a minute, just to be in a well-lit office and see how different Haechan would look under the sun instead.

_______

Haechan stared down at his sandwich, sitting still wrapped and untouched in his lap. Then he looked up at the blue sky and let the white fluffy clouds calm him.

It happened close to the lunch break.

"Spaghetti", Mark said suddenly. Onew had left already and in front of their office, everyone was walking the corridor heading out. Haechan was finally getting into the flow of working when Mark's hoarse voice startled him. "It's your favourite food, isn't it?" Mark asked, explaining himself. "Soup. I don't put things I love on my Instagram", Haechan replied. Mark looked pensive. "This is why there's no girlfriend photo there?" he wondered with a timid smile. Huh? What was that? So this is what was happening? This is the reason for the cute?

Haechan had no force to being hit on, as much as Mark intrigued him. He had zero force and suddenly all the thoughts that Haechan buried away for a few days, came back like a bulldozer.

Haechan bit his tongue before talking too much. "Maybe the girlfriend doesn't exist", he mumbled before getting up and grabbing his wallet.

"Wait, are you going away?" Mark got up as well, surprised. "I thought we were going to eat together. I don't know other people-". "Well, I don't want to. Make some new friends", he replied and just walked away. No, he ran away and the first place he thought about was the terrace. It was the only uncontaminated place in the whole company. Doyoung has never been there before.

And Haechan loved the clouds. He loved the wind moving them around fast. It was mesmerizing and in moments like those, he was able to not think about anything, until he was not Haechan anymore, until he was a cloud himself, floating in the blue sky.

"Sorry, I didn't know this was your favourite place", a voice startled him for the second time that day.

Haechan looked at his right where Mark was standing with a plate of food in his hands. He looked like a scared deer, turning around to leave Haechan alone, probably wondering what he did wrong but too anxious to confront Haechan about it.

"It's alright. You can stay", Haechan spoke softly and resumed his cloud gazing.

Mark stopped uncertain, standing still for a little while but then he walked towards Haechan and slowly sat down, resting his back on the wall as Haechan did, raising his eyes to watch the sky.

"Pretty", Mark commented and this time he was actually talking about the view.

Haechan hummed, then after a moment of silence, he apologized.

Mark began eating his food. "For what?" he asked with his mouth full. They both knew the reason but Haechan still appreciated Mark’s effort to showcase that he wasn’t mad at him. "For telling you that I don't want to eat together. I was being an ass for no reason", Haechan explained. Mark shook his head. "It's alright. I'm sorry if I came off clingy". Haechan huffed. "Funny. Usually, I'm the clingy one".

Mark swallowed and Haechan looked at him. "I haven't been myself lately. But I promise I'm not an asshole". Mark smiled back kindly. "I know. I can see that".

Haechan's expression flattered.

Mark took another bite. "You look very warm. Your name is very appropriate for your personality. You're just… very cute", he added with a shy smile.

Haechan continued staring at the other, unable to make a single sound.

The other had a few other bites as if not noticing the way his words made Haechan feel then he finally raised his gaze.

"Why are you not eating? Are you sick?" Mark inquired eyeing Haechan's sandwich. The boy finally sighed and looked up at the sky again. "Maybe". "Well, you'll get worse if you don't eat", Mark commented and grabbed the sandwich, unwrapping it and putting it into Haechan's hand with force. "I can't believe you're treating your supervisor like this. Calling him cute and forcing him to eat", Haechan stared at the food in his hand before taking a small bite, mostly to make Mark happy. The other shrugged. "You act like no one calls you cute every minute. Also, I am older than you. I can do that”. Haechan rolled his eyes. "I'm still your senior. You don't want to see me get mad. I can guarantee you that". Mark opened his mouth to say something dangerously similar to “cute” but then smiled instead, shaking his head. Haechan forced himself to keep a straight face. "If you say it again…", he warned the other. Mark cleaned his already clean fingers on a napkin then suddenly grabbed Haechan's cheek with two fingers. The boy's eyes got wide and he almost dropped his food, his mouth open in a surprised o.

Mark smiled even more at his reaction, gulping his last piece of food while gently pinching Haechan's face as if he were a child. Then he let him go and got up, dusting his pants. "I didn't say anything this time", Mark explained innocently.

Haechan looked up at him, still shocked.

"I'll see you in the office. Finish your food", Mark told him and left. Haechan could distinctly hear Mark comment "so fucking cute" while he was descending the stairs.

_______

That night Haechan fell into his usual decadent slumber. He was almost fully unconscious, the twilight sleep making space for a depraved and troubled dream. Fingers twitching and muscles quivering, Haechan’s mind transformed his day yearning in darkness. Images of eyes and lips tormented him again. It has always been the same pattern, yet something new derailed the boy’s focus that night. Little details. The roundness of the eyes, the form of the lips, the touch of the fingers, the voice. That voice sounded different and it whispered something Haechan has never dreamt about before. A single word, soft but sensual, repeated again and again in Haechan’s ear.

That morning, after a very long time, the boy woke up with a new name on his lips.

_______

Mark sometimes thought that everyone was just stupid besides himself.

Not because of an unhealthy superiority complex or something, but because he couldn’t understand how everyone could be that blind.

“Oh, Lara, I love your new blazer”, Haechan would say while walking around the company with Mark following suit. Poor Lara would blush and be genuinely happy about the compliment. But Mark could see that Haechan thought it was atrocious. And Adam’s stuttering speech a well. Oh, and Joseph’s wrinkly newborn.

However, it wasn’t this fake persona Haechan had that made Mark uneasy. It was the one he would wear when talking about himself. Oh, I slept very well last night. No, I don’t need any help. Yes, everything is fine, what do you mean? Smiles and laughs and sarcastic comments.

Mark wanted to know. He wanted to get closer and dust off the misty layer on Haechan’s eyes.

Maybe Mark thought too highly of himself. Maybe it was his ego talking.

I’m going to be the one to help Haechan, that’s the only thing he could think about.

And lately, during sleepless nights, Mark would beat himself up about it.

It’s not your business, Mark. You want this to feel a good person.

Except, he would then frown and hug his pillow tighter, getting annoyed at himself.

No, I would want it even it wasn’t me to help Haechan out. I just want to see him happy.

Yeah. This sounds good.

So he would drift away to sleep, peaceful, knowing that he was selfless.

Alas, it took very little to Mark to realize that he wasn’t that selfless as he thought.

Mark raised his eyes when Haechan’s abrupt manners opened the office door with a kick. “Haechan, you look good today”. The other smirked. “I always look good. What do you mean?” As if the literal sun entered the room. Mark was blinded. “Did something good happen?”, he watched Haechan’s hair bounce at his every step, like a little seedling gently moved by the breeze. Haechan’s smile widened as he sat down, rolling around in his seat, pure energy sprinkling from every pore. “So I guess the answer is yes,” Mark found himself smiling as well, although a bitter taste pasted his tongue on the palate as he spoke. “I just remembered how much serotonin a good fuck gives you,” Haechan opened his computer and started working on his tasks, not paying attention to Mark’s face.

Oh.

Mark hated it. Oh, he hated it so much. God, he hated it.

The boy tried hard to not think about Haechan that day, resulting in him thinking about Haechan all day. Don't think about Haechan. Don't think about Haechan. Don't think about his body touched by somebody else.

It was almost lunchtime when Mark finally broke the silence. “So, now you’re dating someone?” Haechan raised an eyebrow, eyes still too focused on his computer to give his full attention to Mark. “What? No. Why?”, he mumbled distractedly. Mark blinked for a few seconds. Haechan finally processed and laughed. “You’re kinda sweet Mark. I just got dicked down, that’s all”, he got up and stretched his arms up with a whiny yawn. “Come on,” he lightly hit the other’s shoulder, “I think today’s menu is soup”.

______

Mark Mark Mark Mark Mark.

It was as if Haechan was going crazy.

It was just a dream. A single dream.

When did this happen? How was it possible?

“Fuck, Haechan, you’re-”, Jaemin gulped, his adam apple going up and down inside his stretched out throat just like Haechan’s body moved on top of him. “Yeah?” the directly concerned boy smiled. “-crazy today”, Jaemin concluded. “Who made you this horny?” Haechan bit his lower lip, hating his mind for not leaving that thought out, even if for a single second. “Call me--”, he ignore the other’s question, cheeks violently turning red. Jaemin groaned at the way Haechan sunk deeper on him in the process. “Call you what?”, he asked breathless, fingers tightening around Haechan’s painfully hard length. “Cute”, the boy finally whispered. And Jaemin said it, again and again until that word replaced Mark’s name from Haechan’s head.

_______

That day’s menu was indeed soup which only added to Haechan’s general euphoria. Mark walked one step behind him, troubled by the double sword his feelings formed inside his heart. His eyes were only on the younger’s face and Mark could only sigh every few seconds.

Oh, I’m falling in love. I’m falling in love.

Lost in his melodramatic thoughts, Mark didn’t notice when Haechan suddenly stopped. “Hey, boys. Haechan,” a dude greeted generally before locking eyes with the younger one. Haechan rolled his eyes and made a step back from where that guy was. The dude’s smile flattered as if annoyed at that obvious showcase of hatred towards him but kept his fake expression on as he looked at Mark instead. “So, I’m organizing this party downtown at the Garages. Do you want to come?”, he asked.

Mark furrowed his eyebrows and eyed Haechan to see what the deal was about.

Haechan huffed. “Mark doesn’t like parties and neither do I, Jungwoo. Thank you”, he replied snarkily while making a step to continue walking.

Jungwoo smirked. “Says the party animal. You never mentioned it to me while I had you on my-”, but Haechan interrupted him, hitting his chest with the back of his hand.

Jungwoo chuckled with satisfaction.

“Oh, so the boy doesn’t have to know?” he asked indicating to Mark, faking innocence.”

Mark felt his jaw muscle flinch and a sudden urge to punch that dude in the face made his fists almost tremble.

“The boy doesn’t like the way you’re making his friend uncomfortable right now”, he spoke with a cold voice not breaking eye contact. “Whatever happened between you before, now Haechan doesn’t want to see you again and certainly he doesn’t want to come to your party”.

Haechan opened his mouth to say something but Jungwoo's laugh interrupted him.

“Oh, but he does want to see me again and come to my party. Don’t you, Haechan?” the dude asked.

“Of course I don’t, Jungwoo. Get fucked”, Haechan replied quickly, eyes rolling in their sockets, feet turning direction and walking away.

“I bet I will”, Jungwoo shrugged with a little smile, throwing one finger gun at Mark. “By Haechan”, he whispered with a wink while leaving him alone in the corridor.

To Mark’s horror, despite those two’s abrasive conversation, he could definitely see that as a silent promise.

So Mark went there as well.

Why? He didn’t know. He liked to think that he was concerned about Haechan’s safety.

That Jungwoo guy had some rancid vibes and Mark hated the idea of the two together. Because he was concerned for his safety.

Not because he was jealous or anything.

Haechan could do whatever he wanted and sleep with whoever he wanted to, but what if, just what if, Haechan changed his mind and chose Mark over the Jungwoo dude?

Mark could do that.

Mark wasn’t self-centred but he still realized that Haechan deserved better and he could provide that.

If that was Haechan needed to soothe the darkness in his eyes, Mark could do that.

But Haechan wasn’t there and neither was Jungwoo and the thought of that man’s hands on Haechan’s skin made Mark’s guts twirl on themselves.

He looked around, frantically, breathing the sweat-impregnated air, trying to avoid being hit by people’s sticky shoulders. Until he started to feel sick, not only because of the loud music and blinding lights but also for some obscure reason, grabbing his throat and choking him.

He had to drown that down.

_______

When Haechan arrived Mark was surrounded by people, eyes closed, face up exposing his neck, laughing and screaming, jumping and moving his body as Haechan has never seen someone do before.

His legs were nicely on display in a pair of severely ripped black jeans that Haechan had no idea Mark liked to wear.

The younger boy was so concentrated on the way a plain white T-shirt could look so good on a person that he noticed too late the way Mark directed his eyes towards him.

He was far away and Haechan couldn’t decipher the other's expression but it didn’t matter as Mark quickly made his way to where the younger boy nervously stood.

Mark was drunk. A lot.

But he still somewhat fluidly avoided the crowd as if dancing until getting as close as hovering above Haechan. The boy had never noticed that Mark was taller until he had to raise his face to look up, his back and palms pressed against the wall. He didn’t notice when he walked backwards either.

“Haechan”, Mark said his name with such worry to make the other’s heart beat like crazy. “Are you okay? Where have you been?”, or that's what Haechan deciphered from his lips since the music was so loud that his ribcage felt about to be ripped apart. “Home. I’ve just arrived”, Haechan yelled and Mark got even closer, giving his ear to the boy’s lips to hear better.

Haechan couldn’t do anything else besides inhaling his odour. Mark was a little sweaty and his breath smelled of alcohol, but Haechan has never found someone sexier than him at that moment.

His eyes were dark under his black curls and his lips looked swollen as if someone sucked on them. Haechan felt like prey and unconsciously pressed his body against the wall even harder.

“And where’s Jungwoo?”, Mark’s voice tingled Haechan’s earbuds. “I have no idea. Why would I know?”, Haechan replied, acting as if he didn’t realize why Mark was behaving like that.

It made Haechan’s palms sweat.

He thought about that a lot, at the way Mark got defensive of him in front of Jungwoo, at the way Mark’s expression darkened even after Haechan told them that he had no intention to go to the party, at the way Mark has been looking at Haechan a lot, at the way Haechan couldn’t just stop thinking about Mark for a single second either.

He came to the party because of that. Haechan’s mind was running again and he wanted to stop it. And also because he played with his phone all day, looking at Mark’s number for a long time.

Mark would have replied but did Haechan really want it? He was such a sweet person and Haechan didn’t dare to contaminate him with his presence. Mark didn’t deserve to be used as Haechan needed.

So he went to the party, ready to contaminate somebody else instead. Who knew that Mark was there waiting for him?

“I’ve been thinking about you the whole night”, Mark talked again after staring at Haechan as if trying to understand the younger one’s thoughts. Just like he has been for the past few months, making Haechan feel small and naked. "Yeah, I bet. While letting those people grind on you?" Haechan replied sarcastic trying hard to conceal his shaking voice.

Mark got closer, bold and cocky, putting his hands on the wall, caging Haechan between his arms, leaning in and whispering into his ear. "Yeah, I was imagining you grinding on me", his confession tickled Haechan’s ear and the boy tried to move his head away on the side, afraid to do something he would regret, but Mark's hand was there and his head had nowhere to go. It wasn't right.

Haechan was sober while Mark was drunk and had no idea what he was talking about. He had to go away, push him back, but his limbs weren't cooperating. Mark's hand though was working just fine and it gently grabbed Haechan's face, turning it into his direction.

"Haechan, please, let me kiss you", he begged, his breath caressing Haechan’s lips.

The boy gulped down surprised, shivering with desire, fighting with himself. He put his hands on Mark's chest, with the intent of lightly pushing him away, but he was made of iron. No, Mark, no, please. You’re too precious to me for this.

"You don't know what you're talking about", Haechan mumbled.

Mark breathed heavily. His jaw muscles tightened. Then he put his head down as if trying to gain forces.

"Yeah, sorry, okay okay, I'm leaving", he retrieved his arms and let them fall to his sides like dead flesh.

Haechan looked at them with some relief, suddenly feeling exposed and cold, even if the club's air was so hot that it was hard to breathe. Or maybe it was just him having breathing difficulties. Haechan had no idea.

"No, wait", his lips betrayed him. "Just-", Haechan interrupted himself, eyes squeezed together as if already regretting what he was about to say, unsure, holding Mark's wrist with both hands. Then he opened his eyes again.

Mark was looking at him his heavy lids. His gaze wandered from his face to his exposed neck, then to his collarbones and chest. Mark was undressing him without touching anything and Haechan felt like going crazy.

"-just a kiss. Okay? It's going to be a short kiss", Haechan continued, unable to believe he was actually saying that.

But there was no harm in that. A little kiss. Just a harmless little kiss. Like the ones you'd have in college during stupid games. No one thought about those in the mornings.

But when Mark's lips curved in a little smirk and his body got as close as to press on Haechan's one again, the younger boy knew that it wasn't going to be just a kiss. Not for him at least. And not only he would think about it in the morning. He probably would think about it for a long time. And he was right. It was indeed memorable. Slow and careful but not timid. Mark cupped the other’s face, palm pressed on his jaw, fingers as far as touching his neck and ear, the other grabbing his hips, pulling them against his. Haechan’s head felt light and he couldn't fathom how Mark managed to have so much control when he was about to lose it all. And then it became even worse as Mark slipped his tongue inside of Haechan’s mouth and the younger boy had to tighten his grip around Mark’s torso. He whined into Mark's mouth, making the other hum back, picking up the pace, biting his lower lip and sucking on it, letting his hand fall from Haechan's face to his neck, then chest, then to his stomach, grazing the skin separated by Mark's fingers only by his thin button-down.

Haechan had to stop him. It was going too far. That was a mistake. They still had to work together. There’s a reason why Haechan avoided talking to the coworkers he fucked before. Mark wasn't realizing that but Haechan did. He had to be responsible.

Stop him, Haechan. Stop him.

"Mark, wait", he broke off the kiss when Mark's hands reached his jeans button. The boy looked down at him, panting, eyes half-closed: he was begging Haechan to let him continue.

Haechan grabbed his shirt and dragged him around the corner, into the shadows.

"Tomorrow we forget about this, okay?", he warned him, shutting his brain off. "Okay", Mark replied quickly putting his mouth on Haechan's again as if unable to be away from it for too long. And he put his hands on Haechan's jeans again as well, opening the button, letting the zip fall slowly, tucking his hand underneath Haechan's boxers, feeling his soft and hot skin, wrapping his fingers around him tightly, not letting the struggling Haechan to break off the kiss to moan. And he didn't even last too long. The boy came shuddering all over Mark's fist after a few good strokes and the older finally let him press his face into his chest.

Shit, he had never lasted this little. What the hell.

Haechan was fucking embarrassed and if Mark wouldn't have been too drunk to remember anyway, he would have just run away to hide in that exact moment.

"Fuck", Mark cursed under his breath, feeling Haechan’s hot release on his skin, nudging at Haechan's temple with his lips while the other came down from his high. "Oh, fuck, you're so hot like this, Haechan. And cute. Shit, you're so cute, I'm going crazy", he babbled before letting Haechan's cock go and trying to bring his fingers to his lips. "Oh no", Haechan gulped trying to stop him. "Mark, don't. You touched all sort of things in the club with that hand", and Mark stopped for a second as if processing the information before dropping to his knees and tasting Haechan directly.

The boy opened his mouth in a silent gasp and he was still so aroused that feeling Mark's tongue made him hard again in a second.

"Fuck", Haechan swore loudly, pressing his fingers into the wall behind him, letting his head fall back, feeling himself grow harder inside Mark's mouth.

He didn't expect it. He didn't expect any of this. Innocent and soft Mark Lee sucking him off like no one has done before in the dark corner of a club? Haechan the slut coming in two seconds and getting hard again soon after? Past Haechan would have laughed, yet there he was, moaning Mark's name like a mantra, coming for the second time in minutes like a little virgin.

It was no dream. It was a reality.

Mark didn't let him go and Haechan felt like flying as his cum descended inside Mark's throat. And then he looked down right in time to catch a glimpse of Mark's eyes, looking up at him, letting his cock out with a lewd plop. "Mark, where did you learn that?", Haechan asked suddenly exhausted. The boy licked his lips and held onto Haechan to get up, shakily. "Was that good? It was my first time doing it", he mumbled with a smile before resting his head on Haechan's shoulder, the cocktail he had right before adding to his brain fog.

_______

Mark woke up to the sound of a heartbeat. It was a comforting sound. Deep and regular.

He groaned softly as his lids realized they were getting hit by bright and irritating sunlight. Then he opened his eyes slowly, focusing on the windows first, vision blurry, then on the plant underneath it, then on the young man underneath him.

Mark's muscles got a spasm and woke up completely as his brain finally made sense of what was going on. Meaning that his face was resting on Haechan's chest. Bare chest. And his own torso, bare torso, was wrapped by the boy's arms.

Oh fuck, he thought. Oh shit.

"It's too late in the morning to run away", Haechan mumbled, waking up softly as well.

Mark froze as he was trying to get up. He was propped up on an elbow when Haechan opened his eyes and Mark felt his breath hitch.

Haechan was there, pillow adorned with his luscious locks lying all around his head like a halo, chocolate eyes warmed by the sun shining through the windows and his skin, God, he looked like an angel.

"I'm not going away", Mark lied, surprising himself by how deep and hoarse his voice sounded like. "Fuck, you're so cute right now", he whispered soon after, unable to control himself.

Haechan's eyes got wider at Mark's words. He expected Mark to freak out, and Mark was freaking out inside a lot, but having Haechan like that, underneath him, vulnerable and beautiful as never before, made Mark feel peaceful at the same time.

This is all he wanted in life.

The older managed to keep it together for a few other seconds, trying to look confident, but when Haechan's cheeks reddened with blush, Mark lost it and blushed as well, rolling away, grabbing a pillow to hide his face in with a scream.

"I can't believe it", his voice came out muffled. "Oh my God", he yelled quietly.

Haechan started to chuckle embarrassed. "What an idiot".

"How-", Mark removed the pillow enough for one eye to poke out. "How far-", he stuttered.

Haechan rolled his eyes, faking nonchalance.

"Just oral", he whispered while getting up and putting his feet on the ground, turning his back to Mark, unable to look at him in the face either.

"Oh", the other sounded weirdly disappointed. Haechan pinched the base of his nose. That man was sending such mixed messages. "You did dry hump my ass if that makes things better", Haechan spoke through his teeth, embarrassed out of his mind, grabbing the bottle of water he kept on his nightstand. "I'm sorry. You deserve to get fucked properly", Mark replied quietly as if thinking at loud, making Haechan choke on his water and spit it all around the room.

Mark sat up quickly and placed a hand on Haechan's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

The choking boy turned around to face him.

"I thought you'd be all embarrassed about this", he commented while drying his wet lips with the back of his hand.

"I am!" Mark's eyes got wide and his red ears confirmed it, but it was still not what Haechan expected.

"I mean", Haechan hesitated, unsure of what words to use, "I thought you'd regret it in the morning. You were really drunk last night and you had no idea what you were doing”.

Mark's face visibly darkened.

"Do you regret it?", he asked.

Haechan went on with his phrase ignoring Mark’s question. "-like I was sober and I was worried that maybe I should have-".

"Haechan".

Mark's voice was so deep and serious that Haechan's heart started to beat faster upon hearing him calling his name like that. "Answer me. Do you regret it? Did I- fuck - did I do something wrong?", Mark asked ruffling his hair with one hand. He looked so worried and distressed that Haechan for a second didn't know what to say.

"No", the younger finally shook his head. "No", he repeated. "I was aware of everything and I made my choice consciously but you-", Haechan hesitated again. "Me too", Mark spoke up, nodding. "I remember everything until you helped me to get out of the club. After I sucked y-".

"Don't say it", Haechan stopped him with a raised palm.

Mark chuckled embarrassedly.

If only Haechan knew how cute he was being in that moment, faking his serious face and steading his voice. Mark would have wanted to see Haechan confess just how weak he was.

"So you, like, you wanted it? Not because you were just drunk and I happened to be there?", Haechan asked timidly. Haechan couldn't believe he was so shy to talk about sex with someone. It has never happened before. Nothing he did with Mark happened before.

Mark gulped down. "I wanted it, yeah. I didn't do it because I was drunk. I did it thanks to that. I don't think I would have had the courage otherwise", he explained. "But I'm also sorry. It mustn't be nice to- like--uh, you know, with a drunk person", he stuttered, eyes closing and opening as he thought about the words to use.

Haechan looked down, shyly. "You were very hot actually", he whispered back, scratching the back of his head.

"Haechan," Mark finally found his voice after a moment of shocked silence. "I swear to God, I would take you-", but interrupted himself abruptly.

Haechan looked at him flustered.

Mark cleared his voice.

Then he shook his head.

"No", he chuckled at himself. "Nothing, never mind", he added suddenly getting up, the covers sliding down his naked body.

Haechan looked at it. He had looked at it the whole night. That night he kissed every inch of that skin and listened to Mark's soft moans. And Haechan realized that it wasn't a hookup. At all. Not for him. But Mark didn't remember that part and Haechan didn't want to tell him. If Haechan had to think about it for the next month, so be it. It was all on him. He let himself go too far and he wasn't talking about the physical aspect. It was all his fault if his heart was aching to see Mark get dressed instead of lying beside him, cuddling, or better, doing what Mark didn't dare to tell him.

_______

"Tomorrow we forget about this, okay?".

Forgetting.

Mark wanted to forget but he couldn't do it. Not the day after and not on Monday morning, seeing Haechan's pretty lips so close to him and not being able to kiss them.

Mark lied when Haechan asked him what he remembered.

Well, not entirely, because he did forget some parts.

But he was definitely lucid when Haechan went down on him, slowly, after kissing his lips, then his neck, sucking on his skin, then his chest and stomach as Mark wrapped Haechan's hair around his fingers. The boy asked multiple times if Mark was okay with that until Mark had to basically beg to just suck him off already. And God, he was so cute doing it. He would never forget how that felt. Divine. His head was so light as if zero oxygen got to it, every drop of blood concentrated inside of Haechan's warm and wet mouth instead.

And he was staring at that mouth now, as Haechan explained the work to do for the day. Mark wasn't even that horny. No. He just wanted to hold him again and softly press his lips on Haechan's plump ones.

"Tomorrow we forget about this".

Haechan was sober when he said that. He meant it. He wouldn't have said that if he didn't mean it. Right? Should he ask? Haechan, did you forget? Do you want to forget? Because I don't.

And I can't.

"Mark", Haechan snapped his fingers in front of him making the boy jolt. "Focus", he ordered. "What are you thinking about?".

You. I'm thinking about you. You. You. I've been thinking about you for days, Haechan.

"Lunch", Mark shrugged. Haechan rolled his eyes. "What an idiot".

_______

That afternoon Haechan was in a relatively good mood.

He should have known that the most peaceful days could bring the most terrible storms though.

So he jolted at the sound of a voice he almost forgot how it sounded like.

"Haechan, I thought you died or something".

The boy in question looked up from his computer to see a pair of feline eyes.

They were bright and amused. Then he saw the lips. Soft and pink stretched in a sweet smile.

Doyoung was still like a house with all the lights on, but now it wasn’t empty anymore. Now everyone was home. This house was full of people, all happy and content.

Haechan was so glad. He truly was. This is what he has always wanted to see since first locking eyes with that man. But he also felt suddenly miserable. Miserable and confused.

His heart shouldn't have skipped a beat like that. Not anymore.

"I did die and I just got back from hell", he replied, trying to sound as snarky as possible. It wasn't entirely a lie.

"What about you? You also went missing". Doyoung blushed subtly at the innuendo and Haechan felt the urge to punch the table. Or himself. "I've been busy", Doyoung replied softly. "So you went to paradise instead, I see", Haechan commented with a smile hoping that no one noticed how fake it was.

_______

"A man can't have his alone time in peace. What do you want?", Haechan rolled his eyes while Mark sat down beside him, resting his back on the rooftop wall, looking in front of him at the blue sky.

It was a sunny day with a slight breeze, enough for Haechan's fringe to wave gently.

Mark loved it when the wind ruffled Haechan's hair but he couldn't bring himself to look at the younger boy. Not at that moment.

"I didn't know", Mark whispered. "What?", Haechan's voice came out irritated but he didn't care.

"That you were in love", Mark added.

Haechan choked on his breath.

"I'm not", he crossed his arms on his chest and closed his eyes as if sunbathing. Conversation over, it meant. An angry bronzing session.

Mark finally looked at him then, feeling safe as he wasn't seen back. He watched the way Haechan’s skin glowed under the warm rays. Mark thought about how it would feel under his fingertips but he wasn’t sure. He touched it before but now he couldn’t remember it. Mark wanted to raise one hand and touch his cheek again, this time fully concentrating on the feeling. He wanted to let it slide down the boy’s jawline, feeling the sharp bone, then on his neck where the angry pulsating artery pumped blood at a crazy speed. Then he wanted to hear Haechan’s soft breath as his hand unbuttoned his shirt, this time feeling his heartbeat. Mark wanted it to be fast and only for him. For Mark.

It all made sense now. But why does it have to be like that? What should Mark do? What do people do in this scenario?

Was he thinking about this Doyoung guy? Has Haechan been thinking about other men? The whole time? While Mark was thinking about him?

Was he imagining kissing that man's lips while Mark's mind was full of Haechan and Haechan only?

Of course, he would.

What was Mark thinking? Isn’t this what he accepted? Isn’t this what he decided to adventure in? Why was Mark suddenly so hurt about Haechan behaving as he anticipated him to do?

We forget about this in the morning and Mark was certain now that Haechan actually did forget.

"Does he know?", Mark asked after a while. Haechan snorted. "Of course he doesn't". "He doesn't know what?".

The other boy sighed at the trap.

"Just leave me alone", he ordered. And Mark actually got up and left.

Haechan's cheeks got wet right when it started to rain.

_______

"Mark, if you have something to say, just say it".

It's been a few days of Mark not talking but still looking at Haechan as if about to burst in a monologue anytime soon.

Haechan had been brusque with him before, but it never came to Mark not talking to him.

The younger boy wasn’t stupid. It was obvious what was going on with Mark but Haechan didn’t have the force to deal with it sooner.

"I don't have anything to say", Mark replied. "Do you have anything to say?".

Haechan rested his back on the chair and looked at Mark, irritated.

"Okay, we need to sort this thing out. We can't work like this". "Like this how? We're working just fine", Mark didn't raise his eyes from the computer. "Mark, you've been writing and deleting the same line for a while now", Haechan indicated the screen with his chin. "Well, maybe something is going on with me but it doesn't have anything to do with you, so we don't need to talk about anything", Mark replied finally starting a new line.

So Mark was able to lie as well, huh?

"Mark", Haechan lowered his voice. "Do you perhaps have feelings for me?", he whispered.

"What?!" Mark yelled.

Onew jolted on his seat.

"Keep your voice down, you dumbass", Haechan put one hand on his thigh. Mark looked down at it then at Haechan's face.

Haechan retrieved his hand back.

Mark breathed heavily before talking.

"It's just--”, he rested his back on the chair as well, “I've never been with someone like that before and I'm so confused right now, like, I don't know if I have feelings for you or just--like, I need closure?", he questioned as if talking to himself.

Haechan was surprised that Mark told him all that.

"You mean that you're a virgin?", the younger asked incredulously. "Uhm, I can hear you", Onew said. "Then get your ass up and take a stroll, Owen", Haechan spoke up.

Mark flinched at his sudden and loud voice.

Their colleague shook his head as if not believing he was dealing with some weirdos and got out of the office mumbling something about gen z people.

"I am not a virgin. I meant hookups", Mark explained after a little pause while his cheeks acted like a virgin's. "You said you've never sucked someone before", Haechan raised one eyebrow. "It's alright if you're a virgin, Mark. You just have to tell me and-”, he interrupted himself as if realizing what they actually did, “-fuck, you had to tell me before as well. God, I acted recklessly, I should hav-".

"I am not a virgin! Stop saying that. I've never sucked before because I've been eating pussy, okay?", Mark raised his voice.

Haechan blinked at him. "So you're confused about your sexuality?"

Mark rolled his eyes defeated. "I know what I like! I'm not confused. Just hear me out!" "You said you were confused just a minute ago", Haechan said. "But not about my sexuality. Because of the hookup!" "Why are you yelling?", Haechan yelled. "I'm not yelling!", Mark yelled back. "You're arguing with me right now". "Because you're not listening! I don't know how I'm feeling about you because I've never slept around before. I-- just--don't like it", Mark stuttered. "Then why did you sleep with me?", Haechan was exasperated. Mark whined. "Because I liked you already”. "So you do like me. You have feelings for me", Haechan raised his hands as if talking with a fool.

The other shifted in his seat as if uncomfortable.

"Don't all people like their hookup partners though? Like, would you sleep with someone if they were ugly as fuck? I don't think so. You still need to be attracted to them a little".

Haechan sighed while massaging his temples. "I can't believe I'm having this conversation. Didn't you have crushes before? Don't you know what it feels like to be in love?".

Mark groaned tiredly. "I did. And I know. But this is different", he spoke with a softer tone.

Haechan sighed. "So what? Am I supposed to help you figure that out? If you like me or not?".

Mark straightened his tie and focused on his computer again as if the conversation was over.

"Listen, you wanted to hear me talk, so I did".

The younger boy stared at the other’s fingers as they started to type something, probably useless.

"Do you even want to like me? Like what's your expectation?".

Mark’s fingers stopped and he remained silent for a little while. "Well, you like somebody else, so it wouldn't be nice if I had feelings for you, would it?".

Haechan prolonged the silence a bit. "I'm getting out of it".

Mark turned his head to him.

That was a lie, Mark could see it. A blatant lie.

"Do you want me to like you?", he asked. His voice was soft and low.

Haechan thought about it for a second. He didn’t know what to say.

Mark sighed, unable to wait like that, and closed his eyes, reclining back on his seat again.

"I like you, Haechan. Okay? I like you, fuck. I don't care if you like somebody else".

Haechan’s heart started to beat even faster than before.

“Was this the problem, then? You were jealous?”, Haechan’s voice came out quieter than he intended.

Mark opened his eyes and looked down at his hands clasped together.

He shrugged.

“You don’t have to worry about me. I just needed to say it. I’m not asking for anything from you”, Mark directed his gaze towards Haechan.

He looked so serious that it made Haechan’s cheeks get pink again.

Mark’s eyes trembled imperceptibly at that reaction but he didn’t dare to say anything about it.

He cleared his voice as Haechan couldn’t bring himself to add anything either and got back to work.

_______

It was very late at night.

Haechan had no idea what time it was but it was not a time normal people would be awake at.

He fidgeted under the covers, restless and irritated. He felt hot and his mind wouldn’t let him sleep.

His hands found his phone after a while, ready to click on Jaemin’s name. But then his thumb slid down and it stopped over Mark instead.

Haechan stared at the bright screen until he felt his eyes tear up from lack of blinking then just pressed it with a huff.

Bad person Haechan. You’re a bad person. You’re such a bad person. A mistake. You did a mistake a now you were about to make another one.

“Yes”, Mark’s rough voice interrupted Haechan’s train of thoughts.

The younger boy opened his mouth to breathe better and he let that monosyllable caress his ears even after the sound already died.

“Hey”, Haechan whispered, closing his eyes, helping his other senses to get sharper.

Mark groaned softly and shifted in his bed, probably turning in a more comfortable position. “Haechan”, he said in the same sleepy and deep voice and Haechan had to make an effort to not whimper into the phone.

Why was Haechan so affected by this boy but at the same time so afraid of him? He shouldn’t have let Mark get so involved. Haechan should have put a wall between them the first time his lips said that first “cute”, then another one when he blatantly saw the way Mark’s eyes couldn’t leave him, then another one that night in the club, and another one when Mark asked him if Haechan wanted to be liked. And now as well. Just end the call.

But he couldn’t.

His walls were not strong enough for Mark and Haechan was a bad person.

He liked it. He liked a lot. Haechan wanted more and more even if he could give back only darkness.

“I’m sorry I woke you up”, Haechan said after waiting a few seconds to recollect himself.

Mark hummed as if telling him that it was alright. “Is everything okay?” he asked and Haechan noticed the way Mark was slowly waking up by the growing concern in his voice. “Yeah, yeah, everything is good. I just…”, Haechan hesitated.

Why did he even call Mark in the first place? Did he need company? Rude. Did he miss him? Gross. He was a bad person, using people when he needed, disregarding their feelings? Yeah.

“I wanted to speak to someone”, he decided to be honest.

Mark’s breath got louder for a second as if he laughed lightly. “I’m glad you thought of me, then. Unless you called other people first and no one replied”.

Haechan smiled, feeling like a teenager talking to his first crush, then stopped, starting to hate himself. “No. You’re the only one I called”, he confessed.

What was he doing? Bad. Bad Haechan. Bad.

Mark went silent and Haechan listened to his breath for a while.

“You confuse me so much, Haechan”, Mark’s voice was a whisper and Haechan swallowed nothing, feeling his throat suddenly dry.

Yeah. It was not fair. Not when Mark told him how he was feeling and Haechan couldn’t do the same.

“But I’m not complaining”, Mark added before Haechan could apologize and end the call, finally getting to his senses. “I don’t care, Haechan. I like you so much. You can do whatever you want to me”.

Haechan bit his lower lip. God, he hated himself.

“Mark-”. “Would you do something for me?”, the boy interrupted him. “Mm? What?”. “Would you-”, Mark stopped, breath suddenly quicker, “-would you-uhm-- shit”, he repeated softly before chuckling, slightly embarrassed.

Haechan’s skin got goosebumps, wondering if he understood what Mark wanted. His heartbeat started to pump blood at a crazy speed at it all went in a single place.

So he did what Mark asked, even if he would end up being wrong, only because he wanted it too. He slid a hand under his t-shirt, slowly, until reaching his nipples, and whined into the phone.

Mark went completely silent for a second.

Haechan whined again a little louder.

“Fuck, Haechan”, Mark’s voice trembled. "Are you-- are you touching yourself?”.

Haechan hummed. “My nipples”, he simply replied as he pinched them, playing with himself, feeling his boxers get tighter at every stroke. “Oh fuck”, Mark’s rough voice made Haechan squeeze his eyes together and open his mouth in a silent moan.

They were both panting. Haechan couldn’t tell if Mark was just lying there and imagining or if he started to shyly let his hand slide south as well.

“How does it feel?”, Mark inquired with a shaken voice and Haechan realized he still had too much control to be rubbing one out as well. “It feels so good, Mark”, the younger one replied, adding soft swears as his fingers got under the fabric of his boxers, letting the elastic hit his abdomen once, loudly, making sure Mark heard it as well. “Hmm -a-ah”, he wrapped his cock with his hand, pumping it slowly a few times, pressing his thumb on the slit.

He didn’t need to exaggerate any sound. Knowing that Mark was listening could make Haechan go over the edge alone.

“Haechan, you make me go so fucking crazy”, Mark’s shaking voice made Haechan bite his lower lip. “You too, Mark”, he confessed in the cloud of sensations.

Then listened to the way the other boy’s bed sheets irrefutably shifted and the bed creaked and his breath hitched as he started to pleasure himself to the sound of Haechan’s whimpers and the image he had of him.

They didn’t talk anymore. There was no need to and they weren’t able to either. Not having Mark near him, made Haechan last longer but it was still too quickly than usual so he stopped right before cumming, edging himself until the other whined into his pillow, cursing and calling Haechan’s name.

_______

Haechan avoided Mark the whole day. He told Mark that he had some other work and barely came into the office.

The older boy would sigh every five minutes, mind racing, making the poor Onew groan.

“He’s feeling awkward. You guys fucked, it’s normal”.

Mark turned his head towards him as if awoken from a dream, cheeks blushing violently as soon as he made sense of the other’s words.

“Also, you’re in love with him. I would avoid someone in love with me as well if I only wanted to fuck them,” Onew added as if talking about the weather. Mark was unable to speak. “He’s afraid to hurt you now”.

“I told him it was alright, though”, Mark finally whispered, trying hard to suppress the hysterical little chuckle he would get when nervous or talking about embarrassing stuff.

Onew got up with his empty coffee mug in his hand.

“Show it. Do something that can make him realize that it’s okay for you to be in this type of relationship”, he added before walking out whistling with not one single worry in the world.

Mark would have wanted to whistle as well but couldn’t.

That advice was breaking his heart.

It was true. Mark said that he was okay, but he was lying.

Of course, he was not alright.

He wanted to, oh he wanted so bad to be alright but it was so late. It was already late from the beginning. Mark didn’t want that kind of relationship. He wanted more.

But Onew was also right. Mark had to do something. If being able to have Haechan like that meant breaking his own heart, Mark was ready to do it.

And when that night he went to Jungwoo’s monthly party again, he forced his beating heart to stop upon seeing Haechan’s back.

The young men’s slender figure was curved in a laugh, the pretty sound almost audible to Mark’s far away ears. Then Haechan sipped from the drink in front of him, still amused by the handsome bartender’s joke, and spun around in his chair right in time to see Mark being hit on by a woman.

Haechan’s lips stopped on the edge of the glass, eyes unable to blink, staring emotionless at the way Mark’s lips curved in a timid smile while his hands weren’t timid at all, firmly grabbing that girl’s hips as she wiggled her ass against Mark’s crotch.

Haechan turned around, placing the drink on the counter with a slightly shaking hand.

“Everything alright?”, the bartender asked.

Haechan didn’t reply and threw his head back, finished his cocktail in one gulp.

_______

It was quite early when the boy left the party. Haechan felt like suffocating in the middle of all those people breathing heavily, clouding his mind.

Waiting for his taxi outside, ignoring the stares of horny people smoking and grinding against each other by the entrance of the Garages, he got reasonable startled when two hands suddenly wrapped his torso.

But those were some delicate fingers and Haechan could recognize that cologne in a thousand others.

Mark rested his face on Haechan’s shoulder and no one said anything for a little while, listening to the deep bass coming out of the club, the yelling and the traffic on the main road just a few blocks away.

“Sorry if I startled you”, Mark mumbled.

Haechan bit his lower lip and turned around, expecting a drunk and horny Mark yet again. But the boy’s eyes were wide and awake, his usual staring-as-if-reading-your-soul eyes met Haechan’s ones.

The younger looked at them for a second then he eyed the bright red hickeys on the other’s neck as well as the slightly unbuttoned shirt.

“I see you’ve had some fun tonight”, Haechan commented unable to hide his bitter tone. Not that Mark wouldn’t have been able to see through his fake face anyway.

Mark licked his lips and tugged Haechan’s hips towards him.

"Is this alright?", his voice was low and sultry, ignoring Haechan’s little jab, caressing his lower back instead.

Haechan started to pant softly, unsuccessfully trying to take a step back then he gulped down staring at the other’s lips getting each second closer.

"We can pretend it didn't happen", Mark went on, "just like we've always done, isn’t that right?", and Haechan could have sworn that Mark was a little pissed off. “Fucking at night then pretending we don’t know each other during the day, huh? Isn’t this what you want? I can do that”.

Mark's fingers reached the hem of Haechan's t-shirt by now, hiking it up slowly, dragging his fingertips on his skin. It was warm, just like Mark had always imagined. A loud cheer mixed with glass shattering made Haechan flinch but Mark shushed him, every second closer until they were breathing each other's air.

"I really want to take you right now, just like this".

Mark's whisper made both of their hearts beat like crazy. The first, not believing he was talking like that, the second, not believing that Mark was telling him that.

And when Haechan finally closed his eyes, ready to melt into the kiss, Mark's lips ghosted his cheek and neck instead, fingers still drawing little circles on the younger's chest, resting his palm on the beating heart. Then he pulled away.

“It’s a shame that you’re pushing me away like this”, Mark straightened his back and walked away.

_______

Mark was a weird guy.

And when Haechan bumped into him inside the local supermarket near his apartment, a large sweatshirt on his frame, boyfriend jeans, ruffled hair, a little stubble, concerned expression behind his golden round glasses, the tip of his tongue out, licking his lips mindlessly, deciding what brand of cereal he wanted, Haechan felt the urge to go there and yell at him that he's in love.

Haechan never liked the "what are we" question.

Everyone around him asked that. What are we? Friends. Friends with benefits. Nothing, we're just fucking. Haechan has never adventured there. But now, looking at Mark's profile, his hand finally picking up the cereal pack, Haechan wanted to ask him that question.

What are we, Mark?

Because I want us to be something.

I want to claim you in ways that give other people no place to do the same.

Not a friend, not a colleague, not a friend with benefits.

An etiquette that only Haechan could claim.

Even if Haechan didn’t deserve that.

Mine. My boyfriend. Mine. Mine. All mine.

Was that wrong? Probably.

But Haechan felt no remorse.

Was that love? Haechan was unsure but he wanted to find out.

So he walked over. Was Mark there because he hoped to see Haechan? "Oh, Haechan", Mark seemed genuinely surprised when the younger called his name. "What are you doing here?", the boy asked.

Mark looked around briefly as if suddenly not knowing where he was. "The meat here is higher quality than the supermarket near my apartment", he explained and Haechan could see the way Mark's expression screamed honesty.

He wasn’t there because of Haechan. Mark might have had a crush on the other but he was slipping away now.

Come back, Mark. Come back to me. Call me cute again. Touch my skin. Don’t do this. Don’t play with me like this.

"Haechan", Mark's voice wavered as the boy got suddenly closer. "We're in public".

Haechan didn’t look away. “You didn’t care about the public last night. You let that slut fuck you in front of everyone then you dared to flirt with me and leave me on the edge like that?”, he confronted him.

Mark’s little stunt made the younger so mad the day before that he felt like bursting in his pants during the drive home. Cheeks flushed and trembling hand, he didn’t even bother to walk to the bedroom. He closed his eyes and threw his head back to rest against the entrance door as soon as he stepped into his empty apartment. He came and came, again and again, until he felt too sensitive to touch himself anymore. God, he was so mad.

“Haechan, are you jealous?”, Mark’s eyes relaxed, the cereal pack still between them, the gaze of some elderly ladies not leaving their backs.

Haechan’s jaw muscles flexed. “Yeah. I am. I am jealous. I am fucking jealous. Okay? I hate it. I hate that you sleep with other people. You’re mine and mine only”, Haechan spat out quickly before he could regret saying it.

He was panting and he didn’t even have to look at himself to know that he was all red.

Mark’s breath hitched in a startled laugh.

“And I hate that you have all of this control over me. I was done, okay? I was done with feelings and here you are, doing all of this bullshit to me. Your little game worked. Are you happy?”.

Getting out of the apartment that late morning, Mark didn’t anticipate getting a confession from Haechan in the cereal aisle while said person looked up at him with furrowed eyebrows, doe eyes and a trembling lower lip.

God, he was so cute, Mark wanted to grab his face and kiss him.

“You saw my game and played by my rules?”, Mark asked impressed.

“You didn’t even give me time to play at all! I got defeated before starting”, the other admitted frustrated.

Mark chuckled. “Why are you getting mad at me, Haechan? You ignored me in the first place, sleeping with other people.”

The boy huffed exasperated and walked away, bumping Mark in the shoulder, making the other pirouette and grab him by the forearm.

“I was joking. Come on”, he cooed. “This is what I’ve always wanted”.

Haechan put his tongue inside his cheek, annoyed. “What? Me making a fool out of myself?”

“Showing yourself to me”, Mark replied kindly.

Haechan rolled his eyes, still using his faking-nonchalance-to-not-show-his-feelings technique, but Mark was already immune to that. In fact, he has been immune to that from the start.

Haechan loved it.

Haechan loved it so much that he got scared. It was too good to be true.

________

It was pouring heavily when they got out of the supermarket. Haechan had his apartment windows open and they could smell the scent of rain, clean and refreshing.

It was cold but Mark's body heated the boy in a second, groceries fallen on the floor, wrapping his arms around the other’s frame.

They did not kiss and Haechan was quite surprised but he didn't say anything, hiding his face the crook of Mark's neck instead, inhaling all of his favourite scents at the same time.

"I called you upstairs for a different reason," Haechan mumbled, surprised at the sudden softness, the sound of his voice muffled by the other's slightly damp sweatshirt.

"I know," Mark whispered against his temple.

He placed a delicate kiss there, then another one slightly below, then another one, drawing a line until reaching the jaw. Haechan raised his face and Mark kissed the corner of his lips, then the other cheek, and jaw again, and the other temple.

Haechan closed his eyes with a little smile as if giving up.

Mark, what are you doing?".

"I want you to think", the other replied, lips still busy. Haechan scoffed. "I want to stop thinking". "I want you to think about me".

His lips reached Haechan's forehead and stayed there for a little.

The only sound was the rain and Haechan's quick heart.

"I already think about you a lot", Haechan confessed, face close to Mark's collarbones.

"And why do you want to stop?" the other murmured.

His voice was so relaxing and calming that Haechan for a second forgot why was he trying to not think about Mark in the first place. Why was he pushing him away? Why has he been pushing him away all of that time?

Then he remembered when Mark's hands slid down Haechan's back.

"Because I'm a bad person". Mark sighed as if he expected that but still wanted to hear the other say it. "You're not a good judge". Haechan tsk-ed. "Well, thanks, I guess." "I am the one who has to decide if you're a bad person or not, and I say that you're not." "You're blinded by love”.

Mark hugged Haechan even tighter.

"Yeah, I am, so Haechan, please, let me love you", his tone darkened suddenly. "Stop pushing me away. I can handle anything".

"I'm going to fuck up", Haechan shook his head.

"You won't and if you do, I still want to take my chances. What if I fuck up before you do?"

Haechan laughed, resting his chin on Mark's chest, rising his face to look at the boy in the eyes. "Mark, you're a saint".

The saint’s eyes were those of a sinner though when he pressed his thumb on Haechan’s plump, lower lip.

"Have you ever made love to someone before?", he asked with a deep voice.

Haechan's eyes widened with amusement. "Are you joking? I’m a hoe.”

Mark hummed. "No. I said, love. Have you? Because I haven't either and I desperately want to make love to you right now".

And Mark was right.

Haechan had never made love with someone before and he realized it as soon as the other's hands cupped his cheeks, kissing his lips softly, pushing him back towards the bed, making him sit on it, letting Haechan watch as Mark elegantly took away his sweatshirt first then the shirt underneath it.

Haechan blinked, emotions he has never felt before invading his whole body as Mark pushed him down with a gentle touch, kissing his stomach and going up, taking Haechan's top with him, letting the cold air caress his skin making it all shiver. It would have shivered anyways, goosebumps forming at every feathery touch of Mark's lips. They took away all of the remaining clothes, touching each other slowly, curiously, exploring everything, with fingertips and lips and tongues. Attentive, remembering which stroke made the other whine louder, what kind of whisper pleased the ears more, what pet name made the other blush.

It was still raining hard, but they weren't cold, tightly wrapped in each other arms, the heavy covers to hide their secret whispers from the world. They were hidden in giggles and heavy breaths, "here?", "yeah", "like this?", "hmm", and Haechan felt so present. He was there, at that moment and he was seen. Mark was looking at him, really looking and Haechan didn't have to do anything to make it happen. There was no reason to put on an act. He just had to be himself. Vulnerable and- "cute," Mark whispered, chests rising, short breaths, his thumb caressing Haechan's red cheeks.

"Say it again", Haechan smiled.

Mark imitated him, his lips murmuring the word until they didn't have to, the feeling of it lingering in the air by itself.

#here she is #mark smut #haechan smut #mark angst #haechan angst #markhyuk smut #markhyuk angst #nct smut #nct angst #markhyuk fluff #nct fluff #jaemin smut #jungwoo #jaemin

227 notes · View notes

frostsinth · 4 years ago

Text

Royal Flush - Pt. 11

Part 1|2|3|4|5|6|7|8|9|10 - MasterList - Art - Art - Art - Art - Art - Art - Art - Art - ... Art (can’t stop me… #obsessed)

Ok, so this is a very long update, but I didn’t want to cut ANY of it. But I really hope you will enjoy. Also, I think there will be 13/14 parts. Not 12. The boys are apparently not done with me yet!! And Morgana MAY have highjacked herself another chapter.

Also, also... I’m sorry about the end.

Comments and Reblogs give me life! The next part is already mostly written out, so if I have enjoy interest I’ll post it early. Want to commission your own piece? DM me for details! Check out my Masterlist above for more of my inane/insane ramblings, and please feel free to BuyMeACoffee while you are there!

I have an Alternative 10 page Part 11 that Immediately follows the events of last chapter available for purchase on BuyMeACoffee (which you can access through my Masterlist). There are only 10 copies available right now, so get them before they are gone. OH! And did I mention its NSFW? That piece is set in an alternative timeline, where Grier and Nikostratus.... well, I guess you’d just have to buy it to see. However, it is not a canon part of this story. Just an alternative spin the story could have taken.

All the best!

“Niko, Niko, Niko, NIKO!” Morgan half-sang, half shouted, punctuating each repetition of my name with a bounce on the bed. “Niko! NIKO!”

I sighed groggily, cracking open an eye and looking over at her. She reached across the bed, placing both hands on my shoulder and giving me a solid shake.

“Niko! The sun’s finally up!” She declared, then crawled closer to better shake me. “It’s morning! I slept! Can I go explore the castle now?” I started to yawn, and she bounced up and down impatiently. “Come ON, Niko! Get up!! Get up!”

“Alright, alright, little chickadee. I’m up.” I yawned again. “I’m up.”

I rubbed a hand across my face, slowly tugging myself into a sitting position. My whole body felt heavy and drained, as if I had spent the previous day climbing a mountain. It took me longer than usual to shake the grogginess from my head, and I lingered with my fingers pinching the bridge of my nose. The sun’s rays were slowly filtering in through the large windows beside the bed. Reaching sparkling tendrils of light towards us. Seeing that I was officially awake, Morgana bounded from the bed and skittered barefoot across the floor over to the clear glass. I swore she was almost vibrating with excitement, and pressed her face against it to peer out.

“Can we go outside? Are goblins awake during the day, or are they only up at night? Are there a lot of goblins?” She gushed, dancing from foot to foot before running back to the bed.

I ran my hand over the back of my head, then down to my neck, stretching my sore muscles, nodding slowly. “We can go outside, I’m sure. Goblins sleep at night too. And yes, there’s a lot of them.”

She tugged at my wrist as I swung my legs out of the bed, and I stood at her insistence. “What do you do all day? Do you run the city? Do you hold audiences?”

“I train with the General in the mornings.” I told her, stretching again now that I was standing. “And the King has been letting me shadow him, so I can learn more about the Kingdom. And I’ve been learning goblinese.” I tugged a fresh tunic over my head.

“Goblinese??”

I nodded, noticing a trunk in the foyer and guessing that some of the attendants must have brought it in last night while we were distracted. I padded my way over and started picking through her clothes before tossing her a fresh dress.

“That’s what goblins speak. Not all of them know Common.”

“Can I learn goblinese?” She asked eagerly.

I shrugged. “I don’t see why not. Wash up and get dressed.”

There was a knock as I directed her to the bathing room. I closed the door behind her, leaving it propped a tiny crack, before I headed back to the foyer to the one leading out to the hall. My heart skipped as a memory of soft green lips came unbidden to my mind. I quickly reminded myself that Grier would never be up this early, unless he had simply never gone to bed the day before. And cool beads of dread dripped down the back of my neck as I remembered what he had said…. “But I would like to speak more about… …. About everything.” Everything. What was... everything? I swallowed hard, brushing the notion from my head as best I could.

Still, my hand shook a little as I tugged the door open. I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or disappointed that Seoc stood in the hall instead. He offered me a quick bow.

“Good morning, Your Highness.”

“Good morning, Seoc,” I replied cordially, nodding to him and hiding my nervousness well, “I hope everything is alright?”

He smiled up at me. “Of course, Your Highness. My apologies for the intrusion.” He dipped his head lightly again. “General Damjan sent word. He is curious if you will still be joining him his morning.”

I considered that, glancing over as the door to the bathing room opened. Morgana scuttled over, freshly dressed and eyes curious, quickly tucking herself at my side and peeking around the door. Seoc’s own eyes dropped to her, and he gave a friendly smile, bowing lightly.

“Princess.” He greeted her cheerily.

She looked between me and him, then tugged on my shirt subtly. I supposed she might be surprised. Wondering who Seoc was to be speaking to her without having first been spoken to. Not that she minded, I knew. Likely she was estatic. She just didn’t know how to react to it. I was again reminded how different customs were between the two kingdoms. I instinctually dropped a hand to her shoulder, reassuring her as she shifted from foot to foot.

“I assume the King is not up yet?” I asked him, trying to sound as matter-of-fact as possible.

He hid a small smirk, as if amused by the thought of the King being up at any decent morning hour. “Not yet, Your Highness.” He cocked his head to the side and his big ears flopped. I saw Morgana’s eyes widen with delight. “Would you like me to have breakfast brought up for you?”

“What do you think then, Princess?” I mused, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Would you like to go to the training grounds with me? Or are you hungry?”

She looked between me and Seoc again for another quiet moment, her eyes still wide with wonder. “... I could go with you?” She asked timidly, her voice softer than usual, “Do you fight with the goblins?”

“Of course, you can. And we spar; only for training and exercise purposes.” I assured her. Then nodded to Seoc. “Perhaps the General would be willing to show the Princess and I around the grounds? In lieu of our usual match.”

“I can send word, Your Highness, if you would give me a moment.” He replied. “Then I can escort you down if you wish.” The goblin tilted his head to the side. “I am certain the King would enjoy sharing breakfast with you as well. Shall I let Lord Hibik know to inform us when he wakes?”

I stiffened a little, then gave a curt nod. “That is an excellent suggestion, Seoc... Let me fetch my boots while you send word, yes?”

“As you wish, Your Highness.”

A few minutes later we were off to meet Damjan. Morgana shyly hid in my shadow, tugging on my sleeve and whispering things to me. Despite that, and the innate joy I felt just to have her at my side, I couldn’t help but linger on what came later on after our tour…

….

Seoc bowed as he opened the door for us, stepping to the side to allow us to enter. Morgana kept a step behind me, alternating between peeking around my legs and hiding herself there. I knew it must be strange for her; she had been taught to stifle her curiosity and told to sit still for as long as she could remember, save with me. Surrounded by statues, and not allowed to ask questions or speak. Ignored, for the most part, as most children at Court were. But here, everyone smiled at her. Everyone greeted her, and when she forgot herself for a moment and asked a question, they were always eager to answer. She had never perfected her composure and mask as I had; but I still saw her struggle a little, as she tried to determine what was expected of her. It made my heart ache to see, and I was glad to have taken her as far away from that place as I could.

The small sitting room we entered was well lit, with a small crackling fire before the couch and armchairs sat before the knee-high dark wood table. I saw Morgana’s eyes skitter about, considering the cluttered décor and bright colors. My eyes settled much more quickly on the room’s occupants.

Grier sat on one end of the couch, shuffling grumpily through a few papers Hibik offered him. Perhaps it was my imagination, but I felt that he looked a fair bit more tired than usual, with dark circles around his eyes. At the sound of the door, his gaze flicked up. Meeting mine. My heart skipped and I resisted the urge swallow. Especially as those thin lips split into a small, wry smile.

“Ah, my favorite pair of royal siblings.” He exclaimed, glancing back at the papers once more before passing them to Hibik with a nod. “I trust you slept well?”

Morgana peeked around my leg curiously, and he offered her a smile. As he seemed to be speaking directly to her, she bowed her head lightly. “Good morning, Your Majesty. Thank you for your inquiry.” She replied formally.

Grier cocked one brow, standing slowly and waving Hibik out the door. “My, but the family resemblance is strong.” He replied dourly, tilting his head to the side. “There’s no need for that, Princess. You may always speak freely around me.”

Morgana glanced up at me, surprised and a little curious. I pushed her hair back out of her face, the corners of my mouth twitching. But I gave her a small nod, and she looked back at the King.

“... I can still call you ‘Grier’?” She asked shyly.

His smile returned. “Of course! I hope I can still call you ‘Morgana’, yes? And you can still ask me questions.” He beckoned us both deeper into the room. “Perhaps you can even help me convince Nikostratus to do so as well.” He told her with a wink.

A tiny smile lit her own lips as a flush prickled my cheeks at his words, and she glanced at me only once more before walking around to sit in one of the armchairs beside the table. I followed behind, pretending not to notice the goblin’s eyes following me as I did. I settled on the couch, and tried not to stiffen as he settled back in the seat at the opposite end. The couch was not nearly so long; his knees could almost brush mine when he turned to the side, as he did now. He reached out, flipping a cup and pouring some coffee into it. I peeked at him through my lashes as he offered it to me. Forcing myself not to quiver as our fingers brushed together when I took it from him.

“Please, help yourselves.” He told us, though his eyes never left mine. “I am sure you are hungry.”

“Thank you.” I replied softly, my voice barely above a murmur. I ran my thumb along the edge of my drink, but then raised it to take a slow sip. I wondered what he was thinking. I tried to look at him from the corners of my eyes, wondering if he would want to talk immediately. Or if I would have to suffer the dread of waiting even longer. It had been all I could think about for the previous few hours. I couldn’t fathom having whatever pending conversation he had planned in front of my sister, but couldn’t tell if he would take her presence in to consideration either.

“There are no forks!” Morgana exclaimed after a moment, bringing me back to the present. I turned to find her looking over the spread, and saw her glance up nervously.

“No, I suppose there are not.” Grier replied, amused, leaning back with his own cup.

She tilted her head to the side, slowly coming out of her shell again. “... How do you eat?”

The goblin smirked, taking a sip. “With our hands.” He tilted his head back to the side. “Do humans eat with their feet?”

Her smile grew a little at his teasing. “No. But, we don’t touch food.” She looked over at me. “...We’re not supposed to touch the food. It gets our hands messy.”

The King ‘hmm’ed softly at that. “Goblin food is meant to be eaten with your hands.” Grier told her. “I suppose it must not be as messy as yours.”

She looked back over the spread. Then back to me.

“Go ahead.” I encouraged her. “Try some. I think you’ll like it.”

She gingerly picked up a pastry, bringing it to her mouth to sniff. After the first bite, she was hooked, and I almost smiled as she quickly scarfed down the rest and went for another. She cast another nervous glance at both of us, but whenever neither of us looked particularly upset at her manners, she took another handful. I saw her little shoulders relax a little. The goblin picked up a morsel for himself, taking a solid bite and chewing thoughtfully for a moment.

“Would you like some tea?” He offered her, gesturing to the pot. “How did you find the castle this morning? I hope you got the chance to explore a little.”

“No, thank you.” She said politely, swallowing another mouthful. “We saw the training cliffs.” She glanced at him through her lashes, and he gave her an encouraging nod. Her smile started to spread wider across her lips. “You can see the mountains from there! It’s very cold... Is it always cold here? Do goblins get cold? Do you wear fur hats?”

Grier chewed thoughtfully. “I suppose it usually is quite cold, but inside the mountain we keep it nice and toasty so we don’t notice. And of course we get cold! We aren’t dragons.” He grinned at her. “And I have a few fur hats.”

She giggled, plucking up a new item to try, sniffing at it experimentally. Her hazel eyes flicked to me as she did.

“You need to eat too, Niko.” She reminded me, before looking over at Grier. “Niko doesn’t eat much.” She explained to him. “I think he forgets he’s hungry. It’s not good for him though! He’ll make himself sick.”

I blushed slightly, starting to open my mouth to reply. To my surprise, Grier chuckled.

“I’ve noticed that.” His scarlet eyes flicked to me at their corners. “He won’t eat if he’s nervous… or flustered.” I felt my blush deepen as the goblin leaned forward, calling my sister’s attention to a tray of pastries in the center. “Do you see these? We call these uyapik. There’s different types for every meal. But each bite is like a whole plate of food in one.” He picked one up, holding it out to her. “It has vegetables, and meat, and often cheese. All in one neat little package.”

Her eyes filled with wonder as she took it from him. She took a bite, then nodded excitedly. “Oh, this is perfect! It’s so yummy!”

Grier grinned. “Even Nikostratus can usually manage to eat one or two of these. A single uyapi should have just about everything he needs.” My eyes widened slightly with the sudden realization of why the goblin pastry had become such a prominent feature through the duration of my stay. The King’s grin turned a little coy at the corners.

“Here, Niko,” She exclaimed, popping out of her seat and grabbing one in each hand, “These are yours.”

I fumbled with my cup to make space for them in my own hands before they fell on my lap. “Chickadee, I-”

“Do you always eat with him?” She asked Grier, ignoring me. “Do you goblins have lunch and dinner too?” She drew in a sharp breath, suddenly looking a little concerned. “Do you have desert??”

Grier nodded. “I try to eat with him for every meal. And yes, we have a midday meal and an evening meal.” His grin grew. “And of course we have desert. Nothing more important than that!”

Morgana giggled, leaning against my knees behind her and looking over the table again. She picked up something that looked like a hardboiled egg, though it was freckled with green spots. She seemed to think about that for a moment. “... Do goblins have weddings, too? When are you going to get married?”

I started to sputter something, and Grier chuckled again. “Our ceremonies are different than yours, but we do have ‘weddings’, so to speak.” His scarlet eyes flicked to me, and I nearly froze in place. “And I hope soon, though we still have to plan it.”

“Can I help? Will Niko be a King afterwards? Do goblins share rooms when they are married?” She tilted her head to the side. “Will you move in with him, or will he move in with you? Is your bed big enough? Niko is very tall.”

“N-now, hold on a second, chickadee,” I started, my face hotter than a furnace, “You can’t just-”

“Niko doesn’t like talking about this stuff.” She told Grier, ignoring me, leaving me sputtering and flushing darker. “This one time, I asked him about kissing, and he-”

I clapped my free hand over her mouth, shaking my head fervently as I felt my ears catch fire from embarrassment. “I-I think that that’s quite e-enough of that.” I mumbled, reaching out to place the remaining uyapi on the table and wrap my arm about her waist to hoist her to the side. As if hiding her from his view would assure the goblin forgot her words.

Grier laughed, which only served to make my flush spread down the back of my neck. “Well, I do believe she’s asked some very good questions, my young Prince.” He teased. “Very practical, your little bird is.”

I dropped my hand with a soft shout of disgust as she licked her tongue across my palm. Before I could catch her again, she darted around the other side of the table. Giggling excitedly. I wiped my hand on my pant leg and shot her a small scowl. Which only had the goblin laughing again. I stiffened at the sound.

“I-I apologize,” I started to stammer, working hard to find some semblance of my composure once more.

The King waved it away. “No apologies necessary.” He grinned at me. “I like seeing you like this.”

“Like what?” Asked Morgana curiously, darting a little closer to his side of the table.

His grin grew. “More relaxed. And of course, flustered.” I dropped my eyes to the floor quickly, unable to meet his. “I think it makes him look very cute.”

Morgana giggled again, sneaking around the other side of the couch. She had to practically jump over the back, but managed to wrap her arms around my shoulders with her feet dangling off the ground. I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye suspiciously.

“Niko! He thinks you’re cute!” She whispered conspiratorially in my ear. “You should say something nice back!”

I would have stood and attempted some excuse to bolt from the room had my sister not been currently so precariously wrapped about me. I stammered uselessly for a minute, which just made Grier laugh again and my ears burn. Could he hear her?

“Come on, Niko!” She urged. “... I know! Tell him you like his hair.”

“N-now, se-see here, you two.” I mumbled weakly, shaking my head. “Th-this… this is… Ah…”

“Perhaps we should let your brother be for a minute, yes?” Grier offered, his smirk still coyly twisted about his lips. “Elsewise he might just catch the couch on fire. Or forget how to breathe.” I felt Morgana’s arms loosen at his words, and wrung my hands nervously in front of me. “... Would you like to meet your potential Lady in Waiting now?” Grier continued, easily changing the subject. “I have a few noble ladies come to call to meet you.”

“Goblin ladies?” Morgana asked eagerly, slipping back around to the front of the couch. Her previous motives already forgotten in light of this new information.

The King chuckled. “Yes, of course. As I do believe the current population of humans in our Court is limited to this room at the moment.” He shifted in his seat. “You can meet them all, and if you like any of them, they can be your Lady.”

My sister picked up a uyapi, quickly finishing it off in two bites before picking up another pastry and stuffing that into her still chewing mouth as well. She turned back to me as she swallowed it.

“See, Niko? I ate! Can we go meet the goblins now?”

I tried to relax, swallowing hard and attempting to wrangle my swirling thoughts into some semblance of order.

“Actually, Morgana,” Grier interrupted before I could voice whatever I had managed to compile, “Perhaps Hibik can take you to meet the young ladies.” I stiffened again, looking over at him. “They are just down the hall, and I’m not sure Nikostratus has eaten very much himself yet.” He cocked his head to the side. “Would that be alright?”

She nodded eagerly. “Oh, yeah. You’re right.” She turned back to me, pointing one scolding finger at my nose. My eyebrows shot up a little. “You need to eat. And you’d better have before I get back.” She warned.

“I beg your pardon-”

To my surprise, she then skipped in between us, picking up my hand and Grier’s. And pressed them together until they folded over each other. My mouth flapped uselessly as my face blazed.

“There.” She proclaimed, putting her hands on her hips and looking out our now entwined fingers. “That’s better.” She turned to Grier who looked a little surprised himself. “Make sure he eats, ok?”

As if on cue, Hibik opened the door with a knock, arms full of paperwork and a greeting on his lips. Morgana skipped around the couch to him.

“Lord Hibik, Grier says you’re to take me to see the goblin ladies,” She told him, and then started to dart out the door around him. “Let’s go!”

“Morgana-” I began exasperatedly, moving to stand, then froze as the King’s fingers suddenly tightened around mine.

“Hibik, if you would be so kind.” Grier instructed him, waving his free hand lightly.

His secretary looked between us, wide eyed, then quickly scrambled to close the door and follow after my sister. A few papers fluttered to the ground in his wake, forgotten in his haste.

My heart thudded in my chest and I stared numbly at the door for a long moment. Torn between Morgana no longer being in my sight and the heat slowly spreading down my neck as Grier kept our fingers firmly and stubbornly latched together. After a moment, I chanced a glance at our hands on the couch between us where she had left them.

“You know,” He finally said after an extended moment of silence, “I was originally under the impression that you were the primary caretaker for Morgana.” I straightened slightly at his words, and I could hear the grin lacing his next. “But now, I’m not entirely so sure it’s not the other way around.”

“Ah… She’s…” I mumbled, face still flaming. “She can be a bit… pushy.”

He chortled lightly. “She cares a lot about you. And I think she does an excellent job watching out for you. For a nine year old.” His voice became a little more somber suddenly. “... We spoke about you for a time, yesterday. Before you happened upon us.” I noticed him shift a little closer, and my legs tingled to stand. “... I’m afraid she might have told me a few secrets of yours after all.”

I swallowed hard, shifting in my seat. Trying to pretend I didn’t have any idea what he was talking about and still unable to meet his gaze. “O-oh?”

His thumb moved across my knuckles. “She gave me a little glimpse into your life before… all this…” The goblin slid even closer, and his other hand came up to cap ours. “... I didn’t get the impression it was a particularly happy life.”

“It’s unfortunate that she gave you that impression,” I replied after a breath, shrouding myself in a flat formality that was belittled by my unwillingness to meet his eyes, “However, I can assure you that…” I dropped off, “... That… umm…” I felt a strange numbness tingling through me, and realized I hadn’t the will to fabricate that particular lie. Especially to Grier. I glanced off to the side. “... It had its moments.”

“Most of them focused around your little bird, I would assume.”

I slipped my hand from his grasp, bringing it to clasp my other in my lap. I stared down at them for a moment. “... I-I… I am sure it is unimportant.”

“.... I was about Morgana’s age when my father died.” He told me quietly. “One day he was there and the next…” I peeked at him through my lashes, and saw him looking off at some distant spot. “... My mother ruled in his stead, and she made sure I had the freedom to… well, to be a child. To go on little adventures, and play, and have fun. She let me make friends with whomever I wanted... She didn’t hold me to adult standards of self control and etiquette. I didn’t have to make tough decisions that impacted the entire Kingdom, or be faced with those responsibilities. I didn’t even really know about them. She didn’t ask me to be a King or even a royal while I was still a kid…”

I looked at him, and my brow furrowed angrily. “I do not hold Morgana to adult standards.” I argued, my voice becoming terse. “I do not demand she sit still or quiet, nor do I lay any royal responsibilities on her shoulders-”

“I know.” He interrupted me before I could get too heated.

As he dropped off, I tried to wrap my head around why then he had told me about his own childhood. What point he had been trying to make... And suddenly I knew it wasn’t Morgana he was talking about. A cold chill swept through me at the realization. I blinked at him stupidly, then shook my head. Looking away once more. A tense silence stretched between us for a long moment. Finally, I cleared my throat, shaking my head. Moving to speak. But nothing came out.

“I don’t mean to pry. It was just something I realized while I was speaking with your sister.” He continued, when I still hadn’t spoken. Then he sighed, and I saw his hand come up, pushing his hair back out of his face. “I’m… not sure if you would want to talk about it… but I’m here if you do.”

I chewed on my tongue for a moment, glancing over at the door. “... Talk about what, exactly?” I asked, and winced at the bitterness in my voice. “Talk about the King? Talk about... ‘all this seriousness’?” I felt a numbness spreading through my chest, and my eyes became unseeing. “...Talk about my mother? … What good would it do? Talking?” I sounded distant, even to my own ears, and painfully flat. “What does it change?” I shook my head once more, the sensation deadened by the numbness. “... I-I don’t… I don’t want to talk about it.”

He nodded quickly. “Ok…. That’s fine. I understand.” The goblin patted my knee gently. “It was callous of me to bring up… I apologize.”

Grier moved to stand, starting to withdraw his hand. I grabbed it suddenly, then winced. Releasing it almost as soon as I had, embarrassed. But he froze for a breath, before dropping back down. Sitting beside me once more. Slowly, he reached out, slipping his hand into mine. I didn’t move as he did, and stared at his fingers as he wiggled them between my own. Watched them curl around mine in my lap, felt his warmth seep into my palm. I hesitated, then slowly closed my own fingers.

“... I don’t want to talk about it... but…” I told him, my voice weak, and frayed. I hated the sound of it, and closed my mouth to trap it once more. I glanced down at our hands, and felt mine twitch in his grasp.

“I can stay.” He murmured softly, and his thumb ran back and forth over my own. “We can talk about something else…” The goblin hesitated, and I glanced at him. “... Morgana also said you went away for a while, but she didn’t know where. Only that you were… different when you came back.”

Instantly I stiffened. Remembering exactly what she had said regarding that time. My heart throbbed painfully in my chest. I started to pull my hand from his. Then… I stopped myself. Hesitating. Glancing back at our entwined fingers. My tongue felt too large for my mouth again. I felt him give my hand another gentle squeeze. I tried to take courage from it.

“... I went to the front lines.” I said, so quietly he had to lean forward to hear me.

He seemed to sense I didn’t particularly want to talk about that either. And thankfully let it be. Instead, we sat in silence for a moment, and he brought his free hand to trace small circles on the inside of my wrist. I slowly calmed my racing heart, and felt my breath become more steady.

“... Morgana will need a tutor.” I told him finally, my voice still quiet. Straying back into safer waters. “I-I am not sure how long she will be able to stay with us, but-”

“It’s not a problem.” He assured me, stroking my hand gently. “She can stay as long as she likes.” He chuckled lightly. “Which I hope is for a very long time... What did your brother mean though? ‘When it’s safe’?” He frowned. “Safe from what?”

I scowled, my heart rate jumping again. “... The King, in his wisdom, spoke of his plans to…” A bitter taste settled on my tongue, and I shook my head angrily. “... Valerianus and I feared for her welfare.”

Grier mirrored my scowl, and made a soft, disgusted noise. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to forcibly remove him from the throne?” He asked bitterly. “I would be only too happy to do so.” I shook my head distractedly, then stopped, a sinking feeling filling my throat. I glanced sidelong at the goblin, and he caught the look. “... What is it?”

“If…” I hesitated, stopping myself and staring down at our hands. A sudden fear filled me, a dread for the answer that I felt was forthcoming. It was the question I had been avoiding for almost the entire duration of my stay. My eyes darted to the door, as if we might be interrupted at any moment. “I-if I had not…” I took a steadying breath. “If I had not agreed to this…” I stopped again, my palms feeling clammy. I started to pull my hand out of his.

To my surprise, he latched on tightly to it. “I would never have accepted Morgana in your place.” He told me bluntly, and I winced at his words. The goblin, of course, had seen right through me. “I can’t even think of a child as...” His voice sounded disgusted even as he dropped off. Red eyes reached between us, and I met them nervously. “I wanted you. I’ve always wanted you.”

My heart lodged in my throat. “But you couldn’t have known I would-” I started to argue.

“I hoped.” He returned, cutting me off. “... And you forget…” I saw his slender eyebrows twitch. “I was winning the war… I didn’t need this peace.”

My eyes must have flashed with my anger, because I saw his expression quickly recoil from his teasing. “...And had I not agreed to marry you, you would have done... what exactly?” I asked tersely. “Finished the war? Destroyed our Kingdom?” I tried to pull my hand from his. “Would you have had my family and I beheaded or just banished?” My tone was mocking and sharp. “... Or would you have imprisoned me instead?”

“No! No, of course not!” He grabbed at my wrist as I wriggled my fingers free of his. “I just meant I wasn’t forced to take a partner. I could have waited.”

“So you forced my hand instead.” My voice was becoming colder by the minute. “We needed the peace. Our people were dying. Were suffering.” I used my opposite hand to tear his off my wrist. “This was all a game to you… It’s always just...” My voice broke a little, but I quickly scowled to conceal it. “You might have been able to wait. I did not have that luxury.”

I wasn’t sure why I bit so hard back at him. Maybe because he had picked at a scab I had tried to keep hidden away. Maybe because I felt vulnerable, with him prying at my childhood, and longed to find some sort of foothold. And found a strange strength and familiarity in the anger. But when I glanced up at his face, and saw the pain there… I winced. Suddenly feeling uncertain, and more vulnerable than before. I shook my head, giving into my urge to flee the turmoil raging inside me and standing quickly. I only took a few steps away though, and stood with my back to him. Facing the fireplace.

“I didn’t mean to… to force you into this…” He finally managed after a few tense breaths. “I tried to give you opportunities to change your mind… to choose a different path... to… to wait, as I could have...” The King’s voice was melancholy and soft, and I focused on the flickering flames in an attempt to block it from my heart. “But it seems… as per usual… I didn’t quite think things through. I didn’t fully realize how much you needed the Treaty. How willing you were to sacrifice yourself for the sake of your people…”

I heard the soft creak of the cushions as he stood, and stiffened slightly. My neck itched to turn and look. To see what he was doing. To know what shape his thin lips took then, or what shade of red his eyes were. Would they be dark with his regret? Or would they flash with his pain? His slender knit eyebrows, would he have them scrunched up towards the top of his nose? Crushing together his heavy brow, piling each on top of the other; the way they did when he was mad. Or would his face be soft, with his brows almost drooping off the sides of his face, making his eyes big? Was his chin tilted up to look for my face, making his hair fall down his back? Or would he be staring at the floor, unable to find the courage to meet my gaze, and have the messy locks framing his sharp jaw and prickling his long ears? It bothered me more than I cared to admit that I didn’t know, and was left with only the memory of his face in my mind’s eye. Yet my pride, and my fear, would not allow me to turn to him. Even though having nothing but the hollow shadow of his face set a deep ache in my chest.

“... As Royals, I suppose our method is rather backwards…” He finally sought to fill the silence, and his voice placed him somewhere at my back, still close to the couch. “We marry first, and have our courtship after… We have to just hope the person we picked is a good match...” I heard him shuffle a step closer. “... I’m sorry, I don’t mean to sound like I’m making excuses… But I didn’t need to wait… I didn’t want to wait… because… because...”

I jumped as his hands suddenly came around my waist, then slid to my front until his arms were wrapped as far around me as they could go. I felt him bury his face into my back, and wasn’t sure whether to stiffen at his touch or shiver. I froze, halfway through a breath. Confused by his proximity, and the heat of him bleeding through the fabric of my clothes.

“I saw you, Nikostratus, and I knew I wanted you… Knew I needed you… From the very first moment I laid eyes on you… I was lost.” His voice was muffled, but each word still stabbed at my heart. “I-I guess… I guess I just hoped that you would feel the same.” I felt him shake his head. “But you don’t need to. I know I’m… I know that maybe I move too fast for you… I beg that you can forgive me… because when it comes to you, at the very least, I am… weak...”

I let out a shaky breath, and my hand moved of its own accord to lightly brush against his arms around my waist. My mind spun, and again I had a hard time finding my voice. I was glad he couldn’t see my mouth flap like a fish.

“... Grier…”

He shook his head against me a second time. “It’s ok. I’ve already forced you into enough. You don’t have to say or do anything-”

“Can I just-” I snapped, then sucked in a tight breath, stilling myself. Trying to calm the soft lingering smolder of my anger. Trying to pull something more cohesive from the swirl of emotions in my chest. “... The past is the past... and we can’t go back and change it now.” I hesitated, then rested my hand on his arm. “... Maybe we should leave it there.”

Before he could respond, there was a loud clattering crash from beyond the door, and a few girlish shrieks. I heaved a hefty sigh, reaching up and pinching at the bridge of my nose. The King’s arms loosened a bit, as I sensed him turning towards the hall.

“I’ve left her alone too long.” I mumbled. “... I should go see what trouble she’s gotten up to now.”

As I slowly turned, he released me, keeping his eyes low. I could see him clearly now... His face was in the shape of pain; his brow knitted, his mouth small and downturned. I couldn’t see his eyes, and his wild hair fell in a frame around his face. My heart throbbed against my ribcage. I watched him nod slowly, and swallowed hard at the sight.

“... We can…” I hesitated again. “... We can talk more… later. Yes?”

He glanced up at me through his lashes. “I’d like that.”

I didn’t bother with a further farewell. Instead turning and breezing out the door. Following the sounds of growing chaos to locate Morgana.

...

The trouble with the goblin noble ladies had been more or less quickly sorted. It simply appeared to have been a small misunderstanding regarding an over extended elbow and a supposedly priceless vase. Apparently the ladies had not expected such a rambunctious human princess. But they had all seemed rather nice. Most were only a few years younger than myself, though none came past my waist. They giggled and ogled at me from behind fans, shy and formal with fluttering, oversized lashes (the latest goblin trend, I learned). However, they gushed over Morgana, and seemed to truly enjoy her spirit. After we wished them a farewell and Hibik had escorted them out, she asked me if she could have all of them be her Lady.

I didn’t have the strength to return to the room Grier might still be, so we explored the halls while she debated the qualities of each. Trying unsuccessfully to pick one from the gaggle. I let her speak, following her about with a torch in one hand. I didn’t mind. It was nice to hear her voice, and see her so excited.

So I ambled along the hall quietly, my eyes downcast as my sister sprinted around me to explore every nook and cranny as we walked. Of which there were a lot. My face was set into its usual mask of ‘seriousness’. But internally, my mind was buzzing like a thousand angry insects. At first I tried to orchestrate my thoughts; to corral them into one pattern. Soon the effort started to give me a headache, so I allowed my mind to do as it would. Barely comprehending each thought or emotion before it ricocheted off the side of my skull and another took its place.

Grier, of course, was at the forefront of my thoughts. What he had said about not needing this Treaty… but instead needing me? Gods, I just couldn’t understand his thinking. It had only been a few weeks, and the goblin was obsessed with me. I wondered if that’s how it was with goblins. Once they decided on a partner, they fixated on them. Unable to think of anyone or anything else. And he had decided on me the minute he saw me walk into the throne room. No thought, no debate. No getting to know me, or wondering if he should or shouldn’t. A part of me envied his quick and confident decision. I couldn’t think of a time I hadn’t agonized over a choice, even tiny ones. Another part of me, a smaller, quieter part… understood it. Not in the same way, albeit. The first time I had met Grier, I had been on edge. Almost terrified of him and what he represented for my people and my future. But now…

He had always been gentle with me, if a little callous at times. He had always sought to understand me, and make me as comfortable as he was able. He had fawned over me, and constantly went out of his way to speak his mind and heart to me. Which… I supposed… was part of the problem. I had never had anyone be so… And to be faced so boldly with such powerful emotions... ones that I had never been allowed to express or understand… it was unnerving. Though I found the more he did it… the less it shocked me. And I couldn’t entirely deny how much I found I enjoyed his company myself. Nor could I ignore the pleasantness of the warm feeling he elicited in my chest...

“Hey, Niko?”

I came back to the present with a few slow blinks, and turned to consider my sister as she ducked beneath my elbow. “Yes, little chickadee?”

“You ok?” Her little hands came up to wrap around my arm, and she gave it a gentle tug. “You seem… not here.”

My cheeks tinted a shade darker, and I cleared my throat lightly. “Ah, sorry, chickadee… I was just… thinking.”

“I like it here.” She told me, beaming. “It's big, and pretty, and everyone smiles a lot…” She skipped over to the nearest bobble, making funny faces in its reflective surface. “And it’s so colorful!” She looked over her shoulder at me. “... Do you like it here, Niko?”

I sighed quietly, glancing around. Considering it for a moment. “... I think I’m starting to.”

“It’s kind of messy for your tastes, isn’t it?” Morgana smiled, darting back over to scoop up my hand and pull me further down the hall. “What about the goblins? Do you like them?” She dropped my hand to run over to another strange item, poking it carefully with one finger. “I think they are nice. And I like their ears.”

I smiled a little at that, glancing around. ��They are a very kind people.” I agreed.

“Grier doesn’t really look much like a goblin.” She mused aloud, and my spine stiffened at his name. As if maybe she had been reading my thoughts earlier. “He’s taller than me. And his ears are smaller than other goblins’.” She shrugged, turning and leading the way to another intersection. “He is green though, and he dresses funny. I think that’s enough.”

“Chickadee, you shouldn’t-”

“What’s it like to be married, Niko?” She asked curiously, looking back over her shoulder at me.

I stammered uselessly for a second. “I-I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for that...”

She scoffed. “Not yet, anyway.” She turned her attention to the left, and skipped to the edges of the torchlight before waiting for me to catch up. “But I think you’ll like it.”

“I’ll let you know.” I replied dryly, and she giggled.

“This way.” She told me, pointing down another hallway. I followed along behind her obediently. “Do you think I’ll get married someday?”

My lips pursed, and I shook my head. “Absolutely not. I forbid it.”

“Niiikoo!”

“Nope. I’m sorry. You’re not allowed to grow up.” I told her as she charged at me to plow face first into my torso. “And only grownups get married. Ergo, you are never getting married.”

She laughed, wrapping her arms about my middle. “But I am growing up, Niko!”

“I have already forbidden it. So you cannot grow anymore.” I patted her head. “I hope you like being this tall.”

Morgana swatted my hand away, then shoved at me playfully. “You can’t keep me from growing up! You’re just a brother! Brothers can’t do that.”

“But we can do this.” I hooked my arm around her waist as she dove at me again, and simply hoisted her off the ground. Carrying her in the crook of my elbow. She screeched and kicked, alternating between laughing and yelling at me. I smirked, turning to make our way back down the hall.

“Not that way, Niko!!” She cried, punching the back of my leg. “Your rooms are the other way!”

I sighed, rolling my eyes. “Well, at least one of us has a good sense of direction.” I commended her, and turned to the correct hallway.

We were greeted by a few amused smiles as I toted her down the hallway. But despite a slight tinge to my cheeks, I found I didn’t much mind the audience. A vastly different experience than at our own castle. The goblin attendants were polite, stepping out of our way with small bows. Smiling and chuckling to themselves as we passed. I nodded to each appreciatively, formally, pretending I didn’t have a wriggling, squealing child tucked under one arm.

By the time we reached my rooms, she was laughing so hard she had gone limp in my grip. I shouldered open the door, extinguishing the torch and finally placing her back on her feet. She shoved at me again, as if to knock me off my feet. She did manage to rock me back a step, but I simply scooped her up again and dropped her over my shoulder until she relented and begged to be put down once more.

She huffed and puffed for a moment, her face flushed, and I smirked at her again. “That’s not fair! You’re bigger than me!”

I fluffed her soft hair. “Well, like I said. You’d better get used to being this size.”

“Would I be tall for a goblin?” Morgana asked me, swatting my hand away again. “Do goblin babies come from eggs? Are they very small?”

“Certainly not eggs, chickadee,” I replied, shaking my head, “And I would imagine they are quite small, yes. If you were a goblin, I suppose you would be tall… And also green.”

She giggled at my teasing, leading the way with a skipping step to the bedroom. I saw her eyes dart about, considering my chambers again. “Why are your rooms so empty, Niko? Where’s all your stuff??”

I stood behind the couch, following her eyes around. “Well… I don’t have much “stuff” here.”

“Why not?”

“... I haven’t been here very long.”

“Where does stuff even come from,” She mused, walking over to the empty sitting room. I followed a few paces behind her. “I just remember having stuff. I don’t remember getting it.”

“It depends on what it is.” I replied softly. “Some things you need, so you make sure you get them. Other things are gifts. Or perhaps tokens or remembrances. And those you collect as you go.”

She led us out to the balcony, leaning carefully over the edge. I wandered closer nervously, eyeing the long drop. And I made sure to stay within grabbing distance. Just in case.

“Ok. I’ll just have to get you gifts then.” She assured me, hanging off the railing by her arms to curl back to look at me. “That way your rooms won’t be so empty anymore.” Her head tilted to the side. “Though I guess you’ll be moving in with Grier soon. Is that where all your stuff is now?”

I stiffened and my face fell. She must have noticed, because she straightened herself out and leaned against the balcony again. We looked quietly out over the mountain range for a few minutes, and my thoughts swirled about dangerously.

“Are you excited to get married, Niko?” She asked me after a little.

I winced at the word, then glanced at her sidelong. “It’s… complicated, chickadee.”

“Why?”

I resisted the urge to sigh. “Well… I… I need to get married, to keep our people safe… I don’t really get a say in that... and whether or not I’m excited for it, I didn’t really get to choose it.”

She seemed to think about that for a second. “Yeah, but… the goblins are nice. And Grier is fun. And you’ll get to be a King, right?” She bounced a little, coming off the railing to wander over and draw circles on the cold glass of the window. “It’s like how sometimes you tell me ‘how do you know you don’t like it if you don’t try it’ whenever you want me to eat something yucky or wear something ugly.”

“It’s not quite-”

“And then sometimes, I try it, and I do like it.” She continued, ignoring me. “Valerianus says that since we’re Princes and Princesses, we don’t always get to do everything we want. And Grier said the same thing about being King. Some things we have to do. But…” She turned back to me. “That doesn’t mean we can’t like it too. Even if we didn’t get to pick it.” Her head tilted to the side. “Sometimes we think we want one thing, but really, it's not very good for us. Or it's only good for a little while. Like desert!” She danced from foot to foot as she spoke. “And then, the thing we have to do is actually really good for us… Like broccoli.” She grinned. “...Grier’s even green too.”

I raised a brow at her. “... Did you just compare my fiancé to broccoli?”

She giggled. “I just think that you always say green things are good for us… And Grier’s green too… So that means he’s probably good for us.”

I laughed loudly at that, shaking my head. “Chickadee, you are a wonder.”

Her reply was cut off by a knock from inside. Before I could even think to say anything, she had darted back through the rooms and opened the door.

“Good afternoon, Princess,” Came Seoc’s voice as I made my way more slowly to the foyer, “You are just the royal I was hoping to see.”

“I am?” She asked excitedly, bouncing on her toes. She glanced over her shoulder at me as I slowly approached.

Seoc offered me a bow, and I returned a nod before he turned back to Morgana. “Yes, Your Highness. Your rooms are ready, and we have staff on hand to-”

She squealed so loudly the goblin nearly toppled over in shock. “My very own rooms in a goblin castle!” She cried, bouncing up and down. Morgana spun, grabbing my hand. “ Come on Niko! Let’s go see!”

I sputtered an apology to Seoc, who only grinned knowingly and led the way down the hall. Morgana was practically floating beside me, she bounced so much. And when we reached the soft pine doors, she broke away to sprint in and dart from room to room. Pointing out this or that feature, marveling at the mirrors... Greeting the startled goblin decorators who waited for instruction there.

I spent the rest of the day watching my sister decorate her quarters to her heart’s content. Asking for more curtains, more blankets, more pillows. I wasn’t sure where the goblin attendants managed to find the things she asked for, but each more ludicrous item she described they seemed to manage to procure out of thin air. By the time the sun had set, she was, for once, exhausted. Though still giggling with excitement. They brought us a light supper in her newly decorated chambers, and she regaled me with a retelling of a story she had read while I was away. Her new Lady wouldn’t be able to start until the following day (Morgana finally picked the one named Safa and sent word earlier), so Seoc was more than pleased to attend to us both for the time being. Hibik even stopped by once to see that everything was progressing smoothly. I wondered briefly about another goblin, but pushed that worrying thought from my mind.

I couldn’t remember the last time I had been able to spend so much time with Morgana without being constantly guarded or interrupted by other things. I couldn’t remember the last time I had seen her smile so much either. It left me in a pleasant mood, with the echo of a smile on my lips. Though I could feel the lingering buzz of my unattended thoughts permanently at the back of my mind throughout the afternoon.

When Morgana finally settled for the evening, I wished her a goodnight, and made my way out. Heading back to my own chambers down the hall, a walk so easy even I could manage it without assistance. Poor Seoc had been exhausted by my sister’s antics, and I had told him to retire early. I had a feeling tomorrow would be a busy day as well for him. My mind was heavy with the weight of my thoughts, and now without my sister to distract me, they flooded my consciousness again. I strode numbly down the hall, hardly paying attention to my surroundings.

So when I approached the door of my rooms and saw the goblin King leaning there against the wall, I nearly jumped out of my skin. I blinked at him stupidly.

“... I thought maybe we could talk more?” He proposed softly. “I didn’t like how we left things and... and I wanted to… maybe explain myself… again...”

I almost sighed, considering him, but couldn’t help my lingering good mood. “... How long has it been since your last confession?” I asked almost timidly, my voice dry. “Surely you must be filled to bursting since this morning…”

He gave me a toothy smile at my quiet teasing. I flicked my eyes away and rubbed at the back of my neck shyly.

“I do have a tendency to do that, don’t I?”

I nodded, then glanced at my door. Swallowing another sigh. “...D-do you… do you want to come in?”

The goblin’s grin turned sheepish. “...If it’s not too much trouble.”

I led the way into my chambers, hesitating in the foyer briefly before moving to the bedroom, seeing as there was nowhere else to sit. It was the first time I regretted my lack of furniture since moving in. Grier slowly sat on one side of the couch there, but as soon as I sat down too he quickly slid closer. I tried not to stiffen, even as my heart raced.

“... Are you still mad at me?” He asked, breaking the silence that had blanketed us.

I did sigh then, shaking my head. My mouth opened, then I slowly closed it again.

“I never meant to force you into this marriage,” He started to gush, “I never wanted-”

I held up my hand, silencing him. “I-I… I just need a moment…” I mumbled. “... To sort through…”

I jumped a little as he reached up and took my hand in his. But I let him slowly entwine his fingers between mine once more, and our hands fell onto the couch between us. I swallowed hard, my heart skipping in my chest. His touch had my thoughts swirling, and I struggled to try and sort through them. The King waited as patiently as he was able, yet with each passing breath I felt more and more anxious as I struggled to find what I wanted to say. Which simply made it more difficult to do so.

“... I-I… I’m not…” I shook my head again, then cleared my throat quietly. “We… I-I mean… you… or more rather… I…”

He glanced at me, lips twitching. His amusement made me even more flustered. I mumbled something incoherent and swallowed hard again. I started as he brought my fingers to his lips, resting a gentle kiss on my knuckles. I assumed he meant it to be a comforting gesture. It seemed to have the opposite effect on me. My face flushed, and I stammered something else before clamping my mouth shut. Letting the silence settle about us once more. I stared down at our hands now between us once more, uncertain what else to do in that moment.

“... I am sorry to have… perhaps pressed too hard for this moment,” Grier began, finally breaking the silence, “But… I have been dying to speak to you since…”

I didn’t answer, chasing a nervous breath down my throat with a quiet swallow. Still staring at our hands. I wasn’t sure how to answer. How to say anything at all. It was as though my tongue had completely forgotten the purpose for which it was originally designed… at the moment it was hopelessly lost in the memory of the taste of his.

“Can we perhaps… speak bluntly for a moment?” He asked, his voice soft with a foreign somberness to it. “... I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

I adjusted my tongue in my mouth, glancing over at the door. Remembering that morning with a wince. “I-I… I apologize for… f-for…”

He shook his head, and I stiffened as he slid a little closer. Lifting our clasped hands up to rest on his knee between us. I swallowed again, my eyes darting about in an effort to find some measure of distraction. No matter how small.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” He reassured me quietly, tilting his head in an effort to try and catch my eye, “I just... Wanted to say a few things. And to ask a few things, if you are willing…”

I looked down at our hands, then back over to the door. Shifting nervously. “B-but… ah… Morgana…” I dropped off, my excuse sounding weak even to my own ears.

He chuckled lightly. “She’ll be fine for the night now, surely… I just…” He sighed, brushing his hair out of his face with his free hand, “This… this is hard for me… “

My heart suddenly plummeted into the pits of my stomach, leaving my head spinning. Hard for him? What was hard for him? My mind raced with a thousand possibilities, each one worse than the last. My outburst that morning had made him realize we wanted different things. Or perhaps he had been insulted that I did not return his affection. Perhaps he had come to his senses finally. Realized he didn’t like me as much as he thought. Or maybe he wanted to ask permission to take a lover. Or maybe something about… I raked my brain. What had happened yesterday? What had he seen? Was it my father? Was he worried about him? Or perhaps something to do with Morgana-

“I miss you.”

I jerked my head up, staring at him, absolutely flabbergasted. He shuffled, and now it was his turn to avoid my eyes. My mouth opened, then I closed it again. What in the gods’ names did he mean?? I had hardly been away from the man for more than two weeks. And during that time I had been dragged through emotional upheaval after emotional upheaval, been forced to face the most hated parts of myself, forced to face my father’s disownment, forced to… to feel this warmth. To wonder at the lighter-than-air feeling his company left me with. Forced to endure a heart that couldn’t decide whether it should race or freeze in my breast. All because of this man. All because I had hardly left his side. And yet, now he said he missed me? … Had I changed? Had I regressed to my previous self, all hard walls and blunted edges? Or perhaps my outburst from the morning had left him thinking I was an angry and bitter person. I ached with each thought, wondering what he could possibly mean.

He didn’t leave me waiting long. “It sounds silly, I know, but it’s the best way I can think to describe it…” His scarlet eyes drifted to our hands, and he slowly turned mine over. “I miss you. I miss you constantly. You’re… you’re all I can think about.” He ran his thumb across the palm of my hand. “And.. it’s hard, because… I don’t want to scare you, or rush you… But I just… I always want to be touching you. I always want to be near you. I think about the taste of your mouth, and the feel of your body against mine… and…” He smirked sadly, “And then I miss you.”

I stayed frozen, stuck in place. A haze around my head, a tingling in my fingers even as he ran his back and forth over them. My heart thudded so loudly in my breast I was certain he would be able to hear it, and I sought to quell its thunder. I wanted to speak, to say something back to him. But my thoughts were a swirling mess, and I couldn’t pull more than a word or two from the thicket. And nothing I pulled felt right.

“I… I was very angry at the castle yesterday…I could barely control it… ” He told me softly, “When I saw that… To think that he…” His jaw clenched, and he shook his head, “I hurt for you. I thought more than once about barging back into the chambers and just…” He sighed, “And now I…” Another sigh, and he shook his head. “... But then, I’m selfish... I’m selfish, and needy, and desperate for your attention…” He was still refusing to meet my eyes, staring down at our hands. “I want to be the one to make you happy. I want to be the one to have the secret of your smile. I want to know all your little intimate, hidden parts you keep tucked away. I… I want you to be mine. Completely mine. And I don’t want to share you with anyone else…”

I didn’t entirely feel like I was sitting there at all. I felt as though I was floating above us, listening to Grier’s confessional. But I was filled with that strange warmth, one becoming more and more familiar each time it flushed my frame from head to toe. I peeked at his face shyly from beneath my dark lashes, and noted that he was still avoiding looking at mine.

“I’m trying to be patient… Trying to stay in your comfort zone… But ah…” I thought he looked a little more green than normal, and a sad smile played at the corners of his thin lips. “But I wanted to keep you abreast of my thinking… so if you ever wanted to… to take some initiative, or ask for something… I wanted you to know that you’ll never overstep your bounds, or make me uncomfortable, or unhappy… or anything like that… Not that you have to,” He added quickly “… If this is all you ever want, I’m happy to give that to you too… ” He squeezed my hand gently. “You could ask me for the sun, and I would be content spending the rest of my life in darkness to give it to you…” Grier gave a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Aah, I didn’t… I didn’t mean to gush quite so much… especially after this morning…” He rubbed at the back of his neck with his free hand. “You must think me an absolute-”

I liked the taste of his voice in my mouth as I suddenly caught his against it. I liked the way he drew in a sharp breath, then quickly recovered to reach out with his free hand and catch the back of my head so eagerly. I liked the way he slid closer, until our thighs brushed together, stretching to the farthest extent of his reach. Lacing our lips as deeply against each other as he could. I shivered as his fingers ran along my hair, and his thumb traced just below my ear.

A wave of shyness washed over me after a shuttering beat of my heart, and I pulled back. Blinking and blushing profusely. He lingered nearby, our faces nearly touching, his hand still at the back of my neck. I opened my mouth, breathing shallowly for a moment, trying to will the words to my lips. I saw his scarlet eyes watching me quietly, filled with something I had no name for which left my heart skipping sporadically.

“...I’m…” I started, my voice barely beyond a whisper, “I-I’m… I’m not good at this…” My words felt smushed and mumbled, and I wasn’t sure he’d be able to understand me. But I had to try. I wanted to try... I stared down at our hands, still clasped on his knee. “I… don’t… I d-don’t… I don’t always know… what I’m…” I dropped off, swallowing hard. “What I’m… feeling…” I scoffed at myself softly. “I never know… And… A-and I don’t trust myself… with this…” I chanced a glance up at him. “... With you.”

His hand slid down, cupping my cheek. “... Can I help? … Am I rushing you?”

I hesitated, bringing up my hand to lay over his. Hooking my fingers around it as if I was going to pull it away. But then, I closed my eyes, and let myself lean into it instead.

“You do help.” I breathed against his wrist, and I felt him squeeze our other hands together. “And… I need… I think I need you to…. Push me… j-just a little.” My eyes half opened, and I stared off at nothing, still tucked into his palm. “Because… b-because I’m… I’m scared.”

“... Of me?” His voice was equally soft.

I shook my head, then hesitated again. I finally took his hand from my cheek, looking down at it still wrapped in my own. A dull ache formed inside me, and I felt my brow furrow. Felt lines crease into the edges of my eyes as I tried to find the words to describe whatever was pulsing through me. Whatever sensation this was… whatever emotion. But I couldn’t think of the words. Couldn’t find how to tell him… Then I brought his hand to my chest, and flattened his palm against it, pressing my hand lightly on top.

“... Of this…” I squeezed my eyes shut, shaking my head slightly. Wondering if he could feel my heart sputtering beneath his fingertips. “I-I don’t… I don’t trust it… I don’t understand it…”

I felt his weight shift beside me, felt the brush of his breath against my cheek. Then the heat of his lips there, as faint as the air had been a moment before. He released my hand on his knee, bringing it up to hold my face steady, as he planted a gentle kiss on each of my eyelids. I shivered beneath his touch, and felt his fingers curl beneath mine against my chest. I didn’t dare move, afraid of breaking the moment. Afraid of losing the warmth curling through me.

“... After what I saw yesterday…” Grier murmured softly, his hand gently caressing my cheek, “I can’t imagine that you were ever allowed to have emotions… let alone express them… But… I see you, Nikostratus,” He pressed his hand a little tighter to my chest, “... I see how much you’ve changed, just in the short time you’ve been here…” He stopped, and I opened my eyes to find him kneeling on the couch, his legs behind him, perched slightly above me with scarlet eyes vibrant. I looked away from them shyly. “... Change is the wrong word… Especially with Morgana here…” I winced, and he leaned closer at that, resting his forehead against mine. “I’d like to think you two are more alike than perhaps you may first appear…” He sighed softly, his breath spilling across my face, and I drew it in deeply, greedily. “... It makes me wonder what it would’ve been like if…” He dropped off.

I started to shake my head, but he stilled me with his hand. “... I don’t want this for her…” I told him quietly, my voice thin. “I don’t want her to… to end up like me…”

“You act like that would be such a bad thing.” He replied, running his thumb along my cheek.

“... Is it not?” It was a question, but one that echoed with the sad solidity of a declaration.

“I like you. I like everything about you.” He pressed. “I think she would be lucky to end up like you.” He stilled me again as I tried to shake my head once more. “I think you fail to see what a good person you are. You are smart, and loyal, and kind. You are selfless, and honorable.” A smirk slipped across his lips. “And undeniably handsome.”

“S-stop… S-stop that…” I finally managed to shake my head, starting to pull away from him, suddenly sensitive to his touch. “I-I am… I am timid, and hesitant… I-I prefer being alone … I-I have a temper… and I don’t know h-how to… to explain myself… I don’t…” I stopped, glancing at him out the corner of my eye, “... I never take…”

“And I am an arrogant ass, who throws a fit when he’s not the center of attention.” Grier returned even as my voice petered out, catching his fingers in my vest and giving it a gentle tug. “I’m pushy, and demanding, and emotional. I’m impatient. I never think things through.” I let him pull me a little closer, and he ran his thumb over the buttons running down my front. “And I’m selfish, for wanting someone as wonderful as you…”

“You’re not…” I blushed, then averted my eyes. “Ah… y-you’re not… that much of an ass…” He laughed at my shy teasing, and my lips twitched at the corners, feeling a little bolder. “... You’re a good King… and you’re thoughtful… a-and amiable… and… a-ah…” I dropped off, my face growing even hotter. “A-and… gentle... And nice …” I stared down at my lap, running my thumb hesitantly across his knuckles still latched around my vest.

The fingers of his free hand came back to my chin, tilting my head. Just in time to meet his lips as they came to bear against mine. I let out a fluttering breath, hitched and fearful, but couldn’t help melting into his mouth. Leaning close. Feeling my head spin and that strange yet wonderful warmth filling me. He kissed me deeply, his fingers skipping back up my jaw to cup the base of my skull. His fist balled in my vest, pulling me closer to him. My free hand smoothed across his knee where he had left it. I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing myself to relax. Forcing myself not to think about anything else, and to just enjoy that moment… that moment of bliss, and the taste of his tongue as he slipped it between my lips. The heat of his hand on my neck. The insistent tug of his fist at my breast.

By the time he finally broke away, he was practically on my lap. Half kneeling over me, half sitting, so that for once I had to tilt my head back to look up at him. Which I did, shyly, and he smiled. Baring those sharp, pointy teeth at me.

“I love the taste of you,” He murmured, stroking his fingers back and forth across my neck, “You always taste sweet, and you smell sweet too. I’m obsessed with the way you smell.” He leaned down, nudging his nose against the tip of mine. “I love the color of your eyes, and I’m haunted by that ghost of a smile you keep trapped at the edges of your lips.” His hand traced lower down my neck, slipping idly beneath my collar. “And your voice… I could listen to your voice all night…”

I didn’t know how to respond. I tried to find words, tried to ease the heat currently burning my ears. But the warmth was in my chest now, and though I longed to say something back, I just… couldn’t seem to make the sounds come out. So I opted for an alternative answer… and I brushed our lips together again, as gentle as a feather. Hoping that action would relay my meaning to him. I felt him leaning after me as I drew away. My eyes flicked to the side, hiding away from him even as he tilted his head to try and catch them once more. He seemed to consider this for a moment as my face flushed and my heart raced.

“Everyone has their faults, Nikostratus,” He told me, running his fingers along the bare skin at the top of my spine, “Only a statue can strive to be perfect.” Grier dipped, falling back into my line of sight and locking our eyes together. “But something made of stone can never live. And to be alive means taking the bad,” He snuck in closer, until his lips brushed against mine as he spoke his next words, “With the good.”

I let myself give in to the temptation of his breath on my lips. Closing the gap and kissing him again. And again. And again. I felt him ease himself closer, sliding his arm around my neck, slipping his hand at my front between the stealthily unbuttoned layers of fabric. The heat of him was intoxicating, and my own hands reached for his waist. I wasn’t sure if I pulled him there, or if he slid across himself, but suddenly I found him on my lap. His bottom resting on my thighs, his knees on either side of my hips. He curled over me, bending my head back with the passion of his kisses until it scraped the back of the couch. He kept one arm wrapped around my neck, the other was wiggling its way further under my vest.

He seemed unable to sit still, like a wave cresting and falling, crashing slowly against my body. It sent a hot gush of emotions through me, and burned my core like fire. My hands slid around his waist, stacking one arm on top of the other to crush him to me, one palm pressed between his shoulder blades. To feel the life of him with each breath that pressed our chests together. To feel the passion as his hips slowly ground against mine. I would have groaned, had he allowed a single molecule of air to pass between my mouth and his. Instead I shuddered, quivering beneath his touch. Lost in the storm of his kisses. The taste of his mouth, the feeling of his tongue swirling around mine.

The goblin pulled back suddenly, and I found myself gulping in deep breaths of air that felt cold compared to the heat of his lips. My eyes fluttered open, and I stared up at him, my jaw a little slack.

“Not yet…” He breathed against me, and I wasn’t sure if it was for my benefit or his, considering the hunger in his eyes. “... I can do better than this.”

I almost laughed, my gaze flickering down to his lips. “Better?”

“Special.” He crooned, dripping closer to me, and my breath shuddered from my own lips. “You said you wanted it to be special.”

I was distracted by the way the candlelight danced in his eyes, and didn’t respond for a moment. “... Did I?” I mumbled, belatedly.

He chuckled, and I could feel his breath against my cheeks again. “You did.” His teeth pricked my bottom lip lightly. “...And I live to please.”

“A-ah…” I stammered, then blinked earnestly, trying to clear the swirling heat in my head. “...R-right…”

His eyes traced around the edge of my face, and he settled on my lap carefully. My face burned as I became vividly aware of his growing “interest” in me as he did. And I could definitely feel my own blood rushing through more than just my face. My breath tasted different, and I itched to feel more of him. Burned to return to our previous pursuit... My heart raced and skipped, and my thoughts became a useless swirl again.

“Perhaps I should go,” He mused, though his voice sounded leery of the thought, “Let you… sleep. It’s late.”

He started to shift, and my arms suddenly tightened around him. My own eyes widened in shock of my own daringness. And I felt a shiver of anxiousness ripple through me as he looked back at me in what I supposed was surprise.

“O-or… Or you… y-you could…” I swallowed the fast forming lump in my throat, and wondered if my mouth had always been this dry. “A-ah… You could… s-stay.”

“Stay?” he echoed, and I nodded sheepishly, instantly dropping my eyes bashfully away from his. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t hear his grin in his voice with his next words. “... Well, I suppose I could… though your bed is smaller than mine.”

His teasing left my ears hot, and I suddenly recalled the fact that he was still sitting on my lap. And was likely just as aware of the bulge between my own legs. I quickly loosened my hold on him, rubbing at the back of my neck with one hand and trying to look around as if the empty bedchambers were far more interesting than the goblin perched on my person. He chuckled softly again, and I noticed him look over my shoulder for a minute. Chewing over the offer.

“I-it’s ok.” I quickly gushed. “You don’t have-”

“I want to.” He cut me off, then his hand came up, turning me to face him. “Just to sleep though… If you’ll have me.”

I nodded again, stealing quick glances at him periodically before darting my eyes away. I jumped slightly as he leaned back over me to kiss me again. Tenderly, as if I might dissolve into smoke should he be too rough. For half a second, I thought I had...

He broke away and slid off my lap, catching my hands up in his as he did. Tugging me lightly to my feet. And leading me over to the bed. My heart skipped and pounded in my breast, leaping about wildly. He released my hands to pull off his boots and stockings, and to untuck his tunic. I watched him for as long as I dared, then turned my back on him with the pretense of taking off my own boots to place in their usual place. I stood them neatly, folding my stockings and placing them alongside the rest. I tried not to think too much about the soft creak of the mattress as I heard him settling onto the bed behind me. Carefully, I removed my vest, brushing it down quietly and folding it. Then, a little more hesitantly, I removed my tunic. Folding that as well and placing it with the rest. I pretended not to notice the goblin watching me as I turned back. I noticed his shirt discarded on the ground and picked it up. Folding it neatly and laying it over the back of the couch. I even straightened his boots, placing them next to mine. Delaying my return to the bed further to walk around and put out the candles. Carefully, so as to not drip wax.

I heard his soft chortle, and glanced at him over my shoulder. He reached out a hand, as if to pull me in by it, and I nearly swooned for the sight of him. Stretched across my bed, propped up on one elbow. Reaching out to me while bathed in moonlight… I wished I could go splash myself with cold water. To make sure I wasn’t dreaming and for… other pressing reasons.

Timidly, I walked around the end of the mattress, to the empty side closer to the window. Climbing slowly in beside him. It was warm enough to lay with our torsos above the blankets, but he spread them lightly about our legs as we settled into them. I watched quietly, laying on my back with my head turned towards him. Stiff as a board.

“Would it make you feel better if I didn’t face you?” He teased gently, seeming amused. He rolled onto his side, facing the couch. I traced my eyes over the fine muscles of his back and shoulders. Studied the delicate drape of his long, wild hair.

Hesitantly, I dared slide closer. I let a few breaths pass before I turned onto my side, and reached towards him. My fingers faltered, and my hand shook. But after a few more heartbeats, I braved slipping my palm over his shoulder. His hand came up, brushing his fingertips along my knuckles. His touch soothed me a little more, and I slid closer. Until I could feel the heat wafting off his back. Before I could fully work up my courage, the goblin scooched towards me, closing the last of the gap between us and tucking himself into my chest. I tensed for a moment, then relaxed as the soft and spicy scent of him filled my nose. I slowly wound my arm around him, resting my head on the pillow, my chin and nose brushing his hair. It was soft, like satin, and thicker than I would have thought. Messy, certainly, but without knots or tangles. I tried to calm the heat racing through my veins.

Grier traced his fingers lazily up and down my arm wrapped about his middle. As he did, I felt myself loosen a little more. And more with each passing minute. I let out a breath I didn’t know I had been holding in a quiet sigh.

“Can I ask you something?” He murmured after a few quiet moments. I hesitated, then nodded against the top of his head. “... Would you want to move to my rooms? After we get married, I mean. Permanently.”

I tried not to stiffen again. Tried to let myself stay in that comfortable shape, curled around him. I swallowed hard, turning it over for a second.

“... I-I don’t… I don’t know…” I mumbled back. “I’d never really… considered... ummm…”

“What about kids?” He asked. “Last we spoke about them, you said you’d ‘never really thought about it’. Have you thought about it more yet?”

“O-oh…” I shifted, suddenly uncertain. “No… not really…”

“... Have you thought about our future at all?”

I swallowed hard again. “N-no…” I confessed. “B-but it’s only been… ah…”

He scoffed lightly, his fingers slowing their movement. “Well, I suppose it’s not like we need to rush… but I think about those kinds of things a lot…”

I said nothing for a long time. He lay still in my arms, and I didn’t relax again until his fingers restarted their movement. I sighed against his hair, blinking the tiredness from my eyes.

“I-I… I haven’t… I can’t seem t-to…” I stammered. His hand paused, squeezing my forearm wrapped around him reassuringly. I adjusted my tongue in my mouth. “I’m just… uncertain… and perhaps a bit… umm… wary…”

To my surprise, he nodded. “You’ve got a lot of walls, Nikostratus. And… I assume you put them in place to keep yourself safe. To keep yourself from getting hurt.” He squeezed again. “But if you’ll let me, I’d like to help you bring them down… At least around me.”

“I don’t know… I just…” I slowly wound my arm a little tighter around him, pulling him deeper into my chest. “I-I… I’ve never been… been asked before and… I just… don’t know...” I buried my face in his hair for a moment, then turned my head to the side once my lungs were filled with his scent. “I don’t know how… how I feel… or… Or what I want…”

I hesitated, and must have drawn in sharp enough a breath that he felt it. “You can tell me,” He told me softly, and I wondered what his face looked like at that moment, “It’s alright. Be honest.”

I shifted again. “I’m not sure yet if… If I really like you… or if…” Again I hesitated, and he squeezed my arm gently once more. “... Or if I am just… just finally letting myself… like someone…” I closed my eyes in denial of their burning edges. “I need more time… I-I need to know before…”

He didn’t say anything to that, and part of me longed to see his face again. To see what he was thinking, as I knew it would be plainly written across his features. Another part of me didn’t. I wasn’t sure what I would do if I saw the ache echoing there that I felt in my chest. It was better this way, I reassured myself. Better that I didn’t let him get his hopes up, just to crush them later. Better that he knows now… I told myself that… but it didn’t feel better.

“... I’m marrying you,” I whispered, and tried to keep my voice from quivering, tried to keep from stumbling over the strangeness of that notion slipping through my lips, “I will never go back on my promise for that… but…” I thought I felt him wince at the word, and I instinctively pulled him a little tighter to me. “... But I… I just… I just don’t know.” I sighed, trying to fight the burning in my eyes even harder. “... I like this… I like… umm… th-this…” I turned my face into his hair again, trying to draw strength from the smell of it. “... I think I like this…” Now it was my turn to wince. “... I-I’m sorry…”

He ran his hand up and down my arm again. “Don’t be. I asked you to be honest with me. To always feel free to speak your mind.” I felt him nod, and it made me pull him even closer, curling myself completely around his smaller body. “This is your truth right now. Your emotions are always true, no matter how they make anyone else feel. I would not hold them against you…. And I can wait. Until you know…” His voice dropped off, “... One way or the other…” He scooped up my hand around his middle, bringing it up to his lips to place a gentle kiss over the knuckles. Belittling the sad tinge to his voice. “And I’ll enjoy this. All of this. Because I already know my heart.” He kissed them again, then tucked it against his cheek and settled down to sleep. “I can wait until you know yours...”

....

There was an exasperated cry, and the sound of a door hitting a wall. My only warning before I was jarred fully awake by the added weight suddenly bouncing next to me.

“Niko! NikoNikoNikoNikoNIKO!”

I sat bolt upright, flailing a moment, then feeling the blood rush so thickly through my face I thought my head might explode. Morgana bounced on me, grinning like a fool. She clambered to her feet and continued to jump up and down on the mattress. Leaping back and forth in my bed with a long string of my name punctuating each pounce. My eyes went wide, and then darted to a flabbergasted Seoc and Hibik who now stood at the foot of the bed. Both babbling over the other incoherently. Beside me, Grier gave a grumpy moan, rolling deeper into the pillows. Somehow unperturbed by the ruckus around him. His sound however, had me nearly squeaking in embarrassment.

“Niko! Hibik says I have to ask you if I can go to the gardens. Are there lots of flowers? Can I go? Is it very cold?” She bounced over my knees, barely dodging landing on Grier’s legs, as her words came out so fast I could barely distinguish one from another. “Oh!” She tilted her head to the side. “Did you know Grier is here too?? Is he still asleep? But the sun’s up already!”

“My apologies, Your Highness!” Seoc finally managed, and he seemed to be panting, his slicked back hair disheveled. “Sh-she was very insistent! I tried to stop her!”

The goblins were hastily shifting and moving back and forth, only adding to the overall chaos as Morgana jumped around. Hibik was speaking rapidly to Seoc in goblinese, who seemed to be trying to skitter from side to side as if to predict which part of the bed the Princess would be closest to when he got there.

“They said you were sleeping! But it’s dawn! You never sleep past dawn!” She told me as she bounced, grinning from ear to ear as she ignored their frantic attempts to coax her down. “And I tried to tell them that-”

“Ch-Chickadee!” I stammered, reaching up to catch her hand. “That’s enough… C-come here.”

She dropped to her bottom, plopping down onto the bed beside me with her legs dangling off the side. The pair of goblins darted over, sputtering apologies in a mixture of Common and goblinese and bowing repeatedly. My face was so hot it hurt, and I struggled to get my mouth and mind to work in coordination. I tried to shake my head, made some attempts to soothe their rushed words. But couldn’t seem to work up the volume to get a word in edgewise.

“Get. OUT. You fools.” Grier growled from somewhere behind me, his voice coarse with sleep. “Now!”

I jumped at the King’s angry snap, even muffled as it was by the sheets and pillows. I almost didn’t recognize it as his. Both of the goblin attendants squeaked, nearly running over each other in their haste to obey the King. Obviously not wishing to suffer his wrath should they be seen hesitating. I was pretty sure I heard the soft thud of one of them tripping over their own feet before I heard the click of the door. Morgana spared the King a glance, but seemed otherwise unbothered.

“Niko, I was talking to Hibik, and he said that the kitchen is really big, so I was thinking-”

“Chickadee,” I breathed, struggling to get enough air through my constricted chest, “Please, I-I need a few minutes-”

“To get Grier up? It’s ok, he can come to the kitchen too. Or is he too busy?” She tilted her head to the side. “What do Kings even do all day?”

“Chickad-” I tried to start again.

“Why IS Grier here?” She asked, tilting her head to the other side. “Did you two sleep together?” I did squeak now, my entire body stiffening at her words. “I thought you would sleep in his room, because that’s where all your stuff must be-”

“Morgana!” I snapped, my voice suddenly tight. She started slightly at that, finally looking up at me and falling still. Instantly I regretted my harshness, and swallowed nervously. “... Look, Chickadee…” I amended gently. “... Why don’t you go with Hibik to the gardens? Or Seoc? Explore for a bit? I-I’ll…. I’ll catch up as soon as I can.”

She watched me for a second, seeming to think this over. I saw her hazel eyes dart over to Grier, still mostly buried in the blankets behind me. I winced, feeling the heat pounding through my head again. But tried very hard to pretend the goblin wasn’t actually there.

“Ok, I like that idea.” She finally agreed, nodding, and bounding from the bed. “Sorry I woke you, Niko.” She leaned over my lap, forearms on my knees. “Sorry Grier!”

His muffled grunt had me stiffening anew, and I blinked rapidly, swinging my legs out of the bed as if in denial that we were in the same one. Morgana’s small body, draped across them, came along with me, and she giggled. Leaping up to wrap her arms around my neck and give me a hug. I tried to release my tension with a sigh, but it only seemed to fan the flames under the balls of my cheeks.

“Listen, Chickadee,” I told her softly, “We’ll… We’ll need to talk about this later…” She leaned back, looking up at me curiously. I fumbled, my lips becoming like butter. Then shook my head. “But go explore for now.” I scooped the back of her head with my hand as she moved to run off. “And listen to Seoc and Hibik. Ok?”

“Ok, Niko.” She replied exasperatedly, pulling my hand away and skipping off to the foyer.

As soon as she darted out the door (and obliviously left it slightly ajar behind her) I groaned. Dropping my face into my hands and releasing a breath so deep it made my shoulders quiver. My blood was still rushing in my ears, and I felt dizzy and lightheaded.

I nearly jumped out of my skin as a pair of warm green hands slowly slid across my shoulders. I lifted myself from my palms a little, enough to peek nervously at the King out the corner of my eye. My heart skittered and raced at his touch. Grier rested his chin on my shoulder, draping lazily over me. Giving a toothy yawn and blinking sleepily.

“That was certainly a wake up call.” He mused, sounding both tickled and groggy, still a little hoarse.

“... I think I’m going to be sick.” I moaned softly, and he laughed quietly at that.

I jumped again as his hot lips pressed to the soft skin of my neck. “Best thing for an upset stomach is rest…” Another light kiss. “...Come back to bed.”

I hesitated, fidgeting in place. Unable to reconcile the memory of the previous evening with the events of the morning. I glanced nervously towards the slightly ajar door.

“A-aah… B-but Morgana-”

“Can wait.” He trailed a kiss down my neck again, sliding his hot arms even further around me. “Come sleep some more.” When I cast him another peeking look over my shoulder, he grinned sleepily, his eyes still half-lidded. “Selfish, remember?” Another kiss. “I want you-” and another “-all for myself.”

I weakly gestured towards the crack of light snaking out into the hall beyond. “S-she ah… left the door-”

Grier murmured something against my skin I didn’t understand, and flicked his fingers towards the foyer. And the door slammed shut forcefully. I heard the deadlock fall into place with a thud that echoed in the silence following. I swallowed hard.

“It’s too early.” He moaned letting up the press of his lips against my throat to sigh deeply and rest his cheek in the crook of my neck instead. I hadn’t realized how flushed I was until I felt his own heat popping beads of sweat across my skin. “I don’t know how you stand it. And all this sunlight-” He blinked at the window, scowling “-I miss my dark room.”

“... You could go back.” I mumbled dryly, and he chortled.

“Not without you.” He returned in a soft purr. The goblin trailed his fingers lazily up my sternum, sending a shiver down my spine. “...Come to bed?”

I glanced down at my bare feet, shaking my head again shyly. “I-I’m too awake now.”

He gave me a gentle tug. “Then be awake. I’ll sleep for the both of us.”

I shook my head once more. “...Y-you and Morgana must be in a competition to see who is more incorrigible.”

He laughed a final time, laying a final kiss against the side of my neck. I couldn’t help curling away bashfully. The King hummed a soft sound at that, reaching up and turning my head to the side. Then planted a proper, if sloppy, hot kiss on my lips.

“Well, I’m going back to sleep.” He declared weakly as he drew away, considering me through half-lidded eyes. “I’ve already been awake far too long for my liking.”

He flopped back into the sheets, and I looked over at him, surprised. As I watched, he burrowed deeper into them and gave a hefty sigh… I wondered quite how he managed that so easily. I felt a pang of jealousy, but quickly brushed it away. Standing and heading over to my trunk to pull out a fresh tunic and vest. I chanced a glance back over at him as I pulled it over my head and tucked it into my trousers, only to find his breathing had already deepened. I pretended I wasn’t checking on him after every other button as I fastened my vest, and that it was absolute coincidence that I ended up next to the bed a few moments later. Though of course, since I was already there…

I reached out timidly, daring to brush my fingertips along his wild bangs. I drew in a sharp breath, looking around. As if someone might pop out and demand to know exactly what I thought I was doing. No one did though, and I returned my attention to his sleeping face, half submerged in the soft blankets. I dared trail a little closer, bending over him. I decided he was either a very good actor, or already in a very deep sleep. Still, I felt emboldened by his stillness, and placed a shy, almost curious kiss on his temple.

I drew in a sharp breath, withdrawing in surprise, my brow furrowing. I forgot myself, and cupped my hand along his jaw, then slid it up to his forehead. Confirming what my lips had already deduced. The goblin stirred beneath my palm.

“Grier, you’re hot…” I told him, trying to keep the nervousness from my voice.

He shifted sleepily, but a wry smile played across his thin lips. “You’re not so bad yourself…” He mumbled groggily.

“No, I-I…” I stammered exasperatedly, “I mean… You’re burning up…” I couldn’t help but cup my hand around the back of his head. “D-do, do you feel alright?”

He groaned, weakly trying to push my hand away. “I’m just tired. Join me, or leave me be.”

“I’m getting Hibik.”

“Nooo, gods, I’m… I’m fine…” He grumbled, but seemed to be struggling to open his eyes again. “Don’t get that old… that old…”

I didn’t linger a moment longer, spinning and practically running to the hall. The door wasn’t even fully open before I was shouting for the older goblin…

...

UPDATE: Part Twelve HERE

#Royal Flush #goblin king #goblin lover #goblin husband #monster lover #monster husband #monster x male #mlm #male x male #terato #exophilia #monster romance #monster royalty #royal marriage #royal engagement #slow burn #angst

56 notes · View notes

thehierophage · 4 years ago

Text

Holy Day Meditation, 4/4/21 e.v.

April 4, 2021 æ.v. Dies Solis,

☉︎ 15° ♈︎ : ☽︎ 21° ♑︎ : ☉︎ : Ⅴⅴⅰⅰ æ.n.

Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law.

The Day of Zayin, the Day of the Lovers

Hebrew Letter: Zayin

Numerical Value as Letter: 7

Numerical Value as Word: 67/717 (Zayin+Yod+Nun or Zayin+Yod+Nun [fin.])

Meaning: Sword, ornament, weapon.

Thoth Card: The Lovers (Atu VI)

Alternate Title: The Brothers, The Children of the Voice, The Oracle of the Mighty Gods.

Image:

Correspondences:

Tree of Life Path Association: Key 17 - Tiphareth to Binah (from Sephira 6-3)

Astrological Sign: Gemini

Element: Air

Egyptian Godforms: Various twin Deities, Rekht, Merti, Heru-Ra-Ha

Geomantic Figure: Albus

Gemstones: Alexandrite, Tourmaline, Iceland Spar

Perfumes: Wormwood, Mastic

Plants: Hybrids, Orchids, Laurel, Bending Vervain

Animals: Magpie, hybrids, Parrot, Zebra, Penguin

Colors:

King Scale – Orange

Queen Scale – Pale Mauve

Prince Scale – New yellow leather

Princess Scale – Reddish grey inclined to mauve

The Secret Instruction of the Master:

The Oracle of the Gods is the Child-Voice of Love in thine own Soul! hear thou it! Heed not the Siren-Voice of Sense, or the Phantom-Voice of Reason: rest in Simplicity, and listen to the Silence!

Mnemonic:

To each his Understanding sooth discovers Wordless: your mode, immortal Twins and Lovers!

Recommended Text for Meditation:

Liber Cordis Cincti Serpente Sub Figura LXV, cap. 2

Liber Cordis Cincti Serpente

A.˙.A.˙. Publication in Class A. Imprimatur: N. Fra A.˙. A.˙.

1.I passed into the mountain of lapis-lazuli, even as a green hawk between the pillars of turquoise that is seated upon the throne of the East.

2. So came I to Duant, the starry abode, and I heard voices crying aloud.

3. O Thou that sittest upon the Earth! (so spake a certain Veiled One to me) thou art not greater than thy mother! Thou speck of dust infinitesimal!

Thou art the Lord of Glory, and the unclean dog.

4. Stooping down, dipping my wings, I came unto the darkly-splendid abodes. There in that formless abyss was I made a partaker of the Mysteries Averse.

5. I suffered the deadly embrace of the Snake and of the Goat; I paid the infernal homage to the shame of Khem.

6. Therein was this virtue, that the One became the all.

7. Moreover I beheld a vision of a river. There was a little boat thereon; and in it under purple sails was a golden woman, an image of Asi wrought in finest gold. Also the river was of blood, and the boat of shining steel. Then I loved her; and, loosing my girdle, cast myself into the stream.

8. I gathered myself into the little boat, and for many days and nights did I love her, burning beautiful incense before her.

9. Yea! I gave her of the flower of my youth.

10. But she stirred not; only by my kisses I defiled her so that she turned to blackness before me.

11. Yet I worshipped her, and gave her of the flower of my youth.

12. Also it came to pass, that thereby she sickened, and corrupted before me. Almost I cast myself into the stream.

13. Then at the end appointed her body was whiter than the milk of the stars, and her lips red and warm as the sunset, and her life of a white heat like the heat of the midmost sun.

14. Then rose she up from the abyss of Ages of Sleep, and her body embraced me. Altogether I melted into her beauty and was glad.

15. The river also became the river of Amrit, and the little boat was the chariot of the flesh, and the sails thereof the blood of the heart that beareth me, that beareth me.

16. O serpent woman of the stars! I, even I, have fashioned Thee from a pale image of fine gold.

17. Also the Holy One came upon me, and I beheld a white swan floating in the blue.

18. Between its wings I sate, and the æons fled away.

19. Then the swan flew and dived and soared, yet no whither we went.

20. A little crazy boy that rode with me spake unto the swan, and said:

21. Who art thou that dost float and fly and dive and soar in the inane? Behold, these many æons have passed; whence camest thou? Whither wilt thou go?

22. And laughing I chid him, saying: No whence! No whither!

23. The swan being silent, he answered: Then, if with no goal, why this eternal journey?

24. And I laid my head against the Head of the Swan, and laughed, saying: Is there not joy ineffable in this aimless winging? Is there not weariness and impatience for who would attain to some goal?

25. And the swan was ever silent. Ah! but we floated in the infinite Abyss. Joy! Joy!

White swan, bear thou ever me up between thy wings!

26. O silence! O rapture! O end of things visible and invisible! This is all mine, who am Not.

27. Radiant God! Let me fashion an image of gems and gold for Thee! that the people may cast it down and trample it to dust! That Thy glory may be seen of them.

28. Nor shall it be spoken in the markets that I am come who should come; but Thy coming shall be the one word.

29. Thou shalt manifest Thyself in the unmanifest; in the secret places men shall meet with thee, and Thou shalt overcome them.

30. I saw a pale sad boy that lay upon the marble in the sunlight, and wept. By his side was the forgotten lute. Ah! but he wept.

31. Then came an eagle from the abyss of glory and overshadowed him. So black was the shadow that he was no more visible.

32. But I heard the lute lively discoursing through the blue still air.

33. Ah! messenger of the beloved One, let Thy shadow be over me!

34. Thy name is Death, it may be, or Shame, or Love.

So thou bringest me tidings of the Beloved One, I shall not ask thy name.

35. Where is now the Master? cry the little crazy boys.

He is dead! He is shamed! He is wedded! and their mockery shall ring round the world.

36. But the Master shall have had his reward.

The laughter of the mockers shall be a ripple in the hair of the Beloved One.

37. Behold! the Abyss of the Great Deep. Therein is a mighty dolphin, lashing his sides with the force of the waves.

38. There is also an harper of gold, playing infinite tunes.

39. Then the dolphin delighted therein, and put off his body, and became a bird.

40. The harper also laid aside his harp, and played infinite tunes upon the Pan-pipe.

41. Then the bird desired exceedingly this bliss, and laying down its wings became a faun of the forest.

42. The harper also laid down his Pan-pipe, and with the human voice sang his infinite tunes.

43. Then the faun was enraptured, and followed far; at last the harper was silent, and the faun became Pan in the midst of the primal forest of Eternity.

44. Thou canst not charm the dolphin with silence, O my prophet!

45. Then the adept was rapt away in bliss, and the beyond of bliss, and exceeded the excess of excess.

46. Also his body shook and staggered with the burden of that bliss and that excess and that ultimate nameless.

47. They cried He is drunk or He is mad or He is in pain or He is about to die; and he heard them not.

48. O my Lord, my beloved! How shall I indite songs, when even the memory of the shadow of thy glory is a thing beyond all music of speech or of silence?

49. Behold! I am a man. Even a little child might not endure Thee. And lo!

50. I was alone in a great park, and by a certain hillock was a ring of deep enamelled grass wherein green-clad ones, most beautiful, played.

51. In their play I came even unto the land of Fairy Sleep.

All my thoughts were clad in green; most beautiful were they.

52. All night they danced and sang; but Thou art the morning, O my darling, my serpent that twinest Thee about this heart.

53. I am the heart, and Thou the serpent. Wind Thy coils closer about me, so that no light nor bliss may penetrate.

54. Crush out the blood of me, as a grape upon the tongue of a white Doric girl that languishes with her lover in the moonlight.

55. Then let the End awake. Long hast thou slept, O great God Terminus! Long ages hast thou waited at the end of the city and the roads thereof.

Awake Thou! wait no more!

56. Nay, Lord! but I am come to Thee. It is I that wait at last.

57. The prophet cried against the mountain; come thou hither, that I may speak with thee!

58. The mountain stirred not. Therefore went the prophet unto the mountain, and spake unto it. But the feet of the prophet were weary, and the mountain heard not his voice.

59. But I have called unto Thee, and I have journeyed unto Thee, and it availed me not.

60. I waited patiently, and Thou wast with me from the beginning.

61. This now I know, O my beloved, and we are stretched at our ease among the vines.

62. But these thy prophets; they must cry aloud and scourge themselves; they must cross trackless wastes and unfathomed oceans; to await Thee is the end, not the beginning.

63. Let darkness cover up the writing! Let the scribe depart among his ways.

64. But thou and I are stretched at our ease among the vines; what is he?

65. O Thou beloved One! is there not an end? Nay, but there is an end. Awake! arise! gird up thy limbs, O thou runner; bear thou the Word unto the mighty cities, yea, unto the mighty cities.

Love is the law, love under will.

#Thelema #thelemic holy season #Tarot

11 notes · View notes

lockefanfic · 4 years ago

Text

Business Trip - Pt 14: Temptation

When you awaken later that night, it takes you a few moments to determine whether the soft, slim body climbing atop you is real or part of some wonderful dream - but the warmth of the young woman, and the soft, pleasant smell of her hair, convinces you that this was all real.

Sana places soft kisses on your neck and jawline, before moving to your mouth and kissing your lips softly. You are still only half awake, but your senses and instincts take over, and you find your mouth welcoming her kiss and returning it with one of your own, your hands moving to either side of her hips and finding, to your surprise, that there was only bare skin there and no clothing.

“Sana…” you begin, as she deepens her kiss, her lips pressing more firmly against yours.

“Shhh,” she answers, “please. I need this. I need you, right now. Please.”

The soaring glass walls and abundance of brushed steel and marble lent the SM head office building an intimidating aura. It was modern, yes, and likely cost a fortune to build, but it lacked warmth and personality. This was a building that was the workplace of the rich, powerful, and successful - it seemed fitting that they built a building to match their personality. These people didn’t get where they were by being nice.

You much preferred to meet at a coffee shop somewhere, or perhaps even a park or other open space - somewhere neutral. Sana told you that the response she got from Irene was the address for SM’s head office. It was enemy ground or nowhere at all, it seemed.

You take another glance at your watch, which had moved… twenty four seconds since you last glanced at it. It was now 4:17, a full hour and seventeen minutes after your supposed appointment time.

She was making you wait.

The receptionist, seated at an expensive looking desk to your right, continued to type away dutifully. What the hell was she doing that required her to be typing non-stop since you first got here?

At least she was pleasant to look at, with her cute, round face and pleasantly sculpted, small features. You’d have guessed she was around Momo’s age, or maybe a little younger. The small nameplate on her desk told you her name was “Joy” - clearly not a Korean name. Was that her codename, like Sana said everyone in this department had? The whole concept was silly. What kind of business gave its employees codenames, aside from the military or some spy agency?

Joy’s typing suddenly stops, her eyes snapping to the corner of her monitor where you assumed a notification had appeared. She shows no further emotion as she stands and gestures towards the door to her right. No words leave her mouth. Just a gesture, and a blank, unreadable look. Nothing more.

This place was creeping you out already.

You stand and button your suit jacket as you mentally prepare yourself for the confrontation to come. Taking a last glance at your watch and shooting Joy a look to ensure she caught on to your displeasure at the lateness of your appointment, you walk towards the door. If Joy even noticed your displeasure, she made no outward sign of it.

The brushed steel door is heavy, and took more effort that you were expecting to push open. Yet another thing about this building that made you feel uncomfortable. It was too clean, too neat, too heavy and imposing. This was a place that belonged in a science fiction dystopia.

The room beyond - what you’d assumed was Irene’s office - matched the rest of the building in decor. It was large, far larger than any one person needed his or her office to be, but that in itself exuded a sort of power. Even here in Seoul, where space was scarce, this company could devote what surely must have been almost a thousand square feet to a single employee.

It said almost as much about the woman you found standing at the end of the spacious office, her back to you as she gazed out at Seoul’s skyline through the floor to ceiling windows that lined the two corners of her office. She must be a woman of some power and influence to command such a workspace.

One other woman is in the room - she is sitting leisurely in one of two leather chairs in front of an imposing looking desk. The chairs are the type that sacrifice comfort for minimalist style. Not that the woman looked uncomfortable, leaning back into the seat, her long, smooth legs laid bare by her short black dress.

The seated woman locks eyes with you and makes no attempt to hide the head to toe scan she gives you. A small smirk appears on her lips, and you wonder what it might mean. She is pretty, as every female you’d encountered in this building was - but there was a sense of mischief in her features and especially in her smirk that both interested you and scared you.

“Sit down,” she says, in perfect English. Whoever she was, she must have spent some time overseas, or at least had a damn good language teacher.

You let a snort of air out of your nose, ensuring that it was loud enough for both women to hear. It wouldn’t behoove you to display weakness simply by doing whatever these women ordered you to do. You were here to get a measure of your opponent, not show them an easy target.

You stride, as casually as you can, over to the seat.

“You take your damn time with your appointments,” you say to the woman standing at the window - the one you assumed was Irene.

The seated woman speaks in Korean to the standing woman - so that’s who she was; the translator.

The standing woman lets out a snort of her own before saying something under her breath in Korean. Her comment draws a small giggle from the seated girl, but she doesn’t bother translating it.

“My name is Wendy,” she says, “and I am Irene’s director of operations. And since you don’t speak our language, I guess I’ll be the translator for this afternoon as well.”

“You can tell Irene I don’t appreciate being made to wait.”

Wendy doesn’t bother translating. By your tone alone Irene must have understood what you said.

Finally, Irene turns around to face you - and you are struck, for a moment, by her beauty.

She is beautiful in the way that Mina was beautiful; elegant, sophisticated, the kind of young woman one would find at an art museum, or taking in a show at the theatre. The kind of young woman who seemed to exist at a level above the average girl you’d find on the street. She was ethereal, royal - princess-like.

Irene says something in Korean. A moment later, Wendy translates.

“Why are you here?”

“I’m here to ask you why the hell you tried to attack our company by hiring our ex-employee to sabotage our product launch by stealing our data.”

Wendy translates. When she hears what you have said, Irene lets a sly smile appear on her lips. Somewhere in your subconscious you are struck by her beauty, but you do your best to hide it. Irene responds in Korean.

“Your accusation is bold, but pointless without proof.”

You were expecting this. You reach into your suit jacket pocket and grasp a small USB drive that you then toss to Wendy. She catches it with one hand, her gaze never leaving yours.

“That’s proof.”

There was no need to explain what was on the stick. Everyone in the room knew.

Irene speaks again.

“So what if you have proof? What makes you think people will care?” Wendy says, her tone capturing the same arrogance you detected in Irene’s voice.

“We could leak this out to the public. Ruin your reputation. On top of that, we have two of your ex-employees that are willing to speak out against you.”

“Ah yes, the two turncoats,” Wendy says, “What were their names? Chou Tzuyu and Minatozaki Sana?”

At the mention of the two names Irene makes a comment in Korean. Wendy appears to agree, replying to her in the same language and adding a giggle that Irene shares.

“What’s so funny?”

“We were just wondering,” Wendy says, “if you’ve fucked both of those whores yet.”

“You little son of a b-”

You are silenced by Irene raising her hand in the air. She says something in Korean with a distinctly disdainful tone, and Wendy’s smirk deepens as she translates.

“We don’t care about Tzuyu or Sana. Hire them and have them speak out against us, fuck them and ditch them, we don’t give a shit. They’ve served their purpose.”

“And what purpose is that?”

“Showing us who’s really in charge,” Wendy continues, “and apparently it’s you. Now we know who you are. Now we know who our opponent is.”

“That goes both ways,” you say, your glare resting on Irene.

The woman gives you another look from head to toe, similar to the one Wendy gave you as you entered the room. She bites the corner of her lower lip - such a small, almost imperceptible gesture - and you think maybe she wanted you to see it. When she speaks again, her tone is soft, almost flirty.

Wendy smiles as she hears what Irene has to say, a devilish look on her young features.

“Irene says it’s a shame we have to be enemies. Things would be much more interesting if we were partners.”

“There’s no way in hell I’d work with the likes of you,” you spit immediately. Wendy translates for Irene with just a few words, although you know your tone probably told Irene what you said without need for translation.

There is a pause in the room that lasts just a few seconds, but they are heavy and tense seconds of silence.

Eventually Irene walks over to her desk and presses a button that appears to be built into the surface of it. She says something in Korean, and though you didn’t understand any of it, you sure caught the name ‘Joy’.

A second or two later, the door to the office opens and in walks Joy, the receptionist. You take a moment to admire her long, thin legs and slim body, her black minidress - apparently the uniform around here - doing little to hide the delicious looking curves beneath it.

When she approaches the three of you, Joy says something in Korean that might have been a greeting, or something, before giving Irene a short bow.

“You may want to sit down for this,” Wendy says.

“I’d rather not,” you answer, “I think we’re done here.”

“I don’t think we are,” Wendy declares.

You are about to ask her what she means when Irene begins speaking to Joy in Korean, ending her sentence with a gesture towards you.

When you turn towards Joy again, the young woman is reaching behind her, and the sound of a zipper undoing itself is all you need to hear to understand what was going on here. You mean to say something, to tell her to stop, but you are enraptured by the young woman’s eyes as she slowly finishes unzipping her dress. With thin, delicate hands, she pulls the top of the dress off her torso, and with a little shimmy of her hips, lets the black dress fall to the floor.

Joy steps out of the silk pooled at her feet, the click-clack of her black heels on the hard floor sounding almost impossibly loud in the silent room. Her body is almost impossibly perfect, her limbs toned, her breasts perfectly round and pert. Her eyes are heavy now, heavy with lust and sultry with desire. Gone was the cold and aloof receptionist - this was a woman who knew what she was about to do, and her every gesture implied to you that she was good at it.

When Joy reaches you, her hands immediately go to the belt at your waist.

“Stop right fucking there,” you say, grasping Joy’s wrists and pushing them away, “what the fuck is going on here?”

“We’ve heard of your exploits with women in this industry,” Wendy begins, “and we wanted to see if the stories about your prowess were true.”

“I’m here to talk about what you did in Taiwan,” you retort, “not give you some sick sex show.”

Wendy laughs before answering, “That’s rich. As if business has ever stopped you from fucking any of the other women you’ve had over the past few years. Minatozaki Sana, Park Choa, Kim Seolhyun, Miyoui Mina, even Chou Tzuyu… she’s just barely legal, isn’t she?”

“Fuck off,” you say angrily, shooting Irene one last look before turning away, “this isn’t over.”

“How could we forget,” Wendy continues as you begin to storm out of the room, “about Hirai Momo?”

Momo’s name stops you in your tracks. If they did anything to her…

“She’s gorgeous,” Wendy admits, “and if I were you I’d be fucking her too. Tell me, did she spread her legs for you immediately or did you have to buy her a drink first?”

You storm over to Wendy’s seat. You grasp the arms of her chair and lean in until your faces are inches apart.

“Say that again, you bitch. Say it again and see if I don’t do anything about it.”

“Enough,” you hear, and it takes you a moment to realize the English word has come from Irene. Inches away from you, a cocky smile is plastered all over Wendy’s face, infuriating you to no end.

Irene speaks again in Korean, and Wendy translates, her eyes not once leaving yours. She didn't even blink. There is a craziness in her eyes that has overtaken the mischeviousness that was present there before.

“Irene has an offer for you. Join SM. We could use someone like you around here,” she begins.

Irene says something in Korean.

“...and you can have Joy as a fucktoy for you to use whenever you want, to make up for all that tail you’re leaving behind at JYP,” Wendy finishes. As she does so she brings her mouth to your ear.

“Although I might want a turn too, big boy.”

That was the last straw for you. You had to leave now, lest you lose control of your anger.

“You’re all messed up, all of you,” you say, backing away from Wendy and glaring angrily at Irene, “We’re done here.”

“What makes you think we are? We’re done when we say we’re done,” Wendy spits. You are about to rebuke her when Irene speaks again in Korean. It was hard to miss Sana’s name amidst the Korean.

“It would be a shame if Minatozaki Sana’s exploits and her role in illegal theft of data were to reach the police,” Wendy says.

You are frozen by the implications of Irene’s threat.

“You leave her out of this,” you state, “she’s back with JYP now. She’s done with you.”

“Is that so? We’ve been in contact with her this whole time. Can you ever really be sure of her loyalty, ever again?”

Irene takes a few steps towards you, speaking in Korean as she does so.

“We could demolish her career. And not only that - she could spend a lot of time in jail. With what we know about her, we could ruin her.”

“You’d throw your own person under the bus like that?”

“In a heartbeat,” Wendy answers. You are acutely aware of Joy approaching you from your left. Her left hand reaches for your belt buckle again, and this time you don’t stop her.

“Fuck this girl’s brains out,” Wendy says, every word now freighted with lust, “make her cum. If she does, maybe we forget about Minatozaki Sana. Maybe we let her go.”

“You people are sick,” you state, even as Joy succeeds in unbuckling your belt, and her slim fingers are slowly drawing down the zipper of your pants, even as she removes the suit jacket from your torso with her other hand, letting the garment fall to the floor.

“Shut up, big boy. Maybe you’ll enjoy it.”

Joy turns to face you, her cute features inches away from yours, her eyes half-lidded with lust and desire and need. A sly smile perks up the corner of her mouth. She was certainly willing - there was no doubt about that.

Her fingers find themselves inside the waistband of your boxers, and her palm quickly wraps itself around your quickly hardening shaft. She gives you one, two, three soft strokes, and before you know it your eyes have shut as pleasure begins to emanate from your crotch.

“Fuck her,” Wendy starts, “and we’ll leave Sana alone.”

You are seconds away from giving in, and as Joy brings her mouth to your neck and plants a soft kiss there, you can almost feel the last remnants of your resistance crack before -

“No,” you state with all the conviction you could muster, “This isn’t right.”

You grasp Joy’s wrist, still pumping your shaft, and rip it off your crotch before quickly re-zipping and buttoning your pants.

“You’re all sick, all of you, for even trying something like this.”

Your statements draw nothing but a sly grin from Wendy and Irene, as if they both knew this was coming and were amused by it all.

Wendy rises from her seat and struts over to you, that infuriating grin still on her lips. She draws a business card from the inner pocket of the short black blazer she is wearing and places it in your pants pocket.

“You have one week to think about it. If you want to join us, give us a call, and we’ll make it worth your while. I know it’ll hurt to give up pieces of ass like Momo and Seolhyun, but I assure you we’ll make it up to you. She’s just the start,” she finishes with a nod towards Joy.

You return Wendy’s smirk with a glare before shooting one at Irene, who still has that slick, sly grin on her lips, as though she were above it all, watching puppets dance on a stage. She reminded you again of Mina’s elegance, but with a ruthless, callous edge to it that frightened you.

You turn to leave, to find that Joy has picked up your suit blazer and is holding it up for you. You are a little surprised to find a little bit of shame and regret and another emotion you cannot name in her eyes. She seemed entirely willing and even enthusiastic about carrying out her superiors’ orders to have sex with a man she didn’t even know - how much of it was her wanting to please her bosses, and how much of it was consensual?

You didn’t care, not at the moment - your only focus was on storming out of the building.

---

You could trace the exact moment Minatozaki Sana’s world shattered. When you met her the next day after your flight back home, she still carried that air of defiance she had been holding since the events in Taiwan, but as you played back the conversation with Wendy and Irene that you had recorded with a listening device hidden in your suit jacket, her defiant air slowly began to crumble.

You reach forward and press stop on the digital recorder. To say that Sana looked shaken by what she had just heard was an understatement.

“They are ready and willing to completely throw you under the bus,” you say, “and if they go to the police or leak info about what you did in Taiwan, it could lead to the police prosecuting you for intellectual property theft, not to mention breaking into a secure server and any one of any number of invasion charges.”

“...Why,” Sana mumbles, the small word seemingly all she could say.

“I don’t know. They want to get me to join them. I guess they expect that if I do, I’ll bring along all of JYP’s inner secrets and help them build up that section of their company. That’ll also disrupt JYP’s foothold in the industry. At the very least, by throwing this threat at me they can disrupt our operations for the near future while we figure out how to deal with it. They gain, JYP loses.”

“What… what will you do?”

“I don’t know,” you answer truthfully, “but I’ll figure something out. I just thought you should know what’s going on here. Tomorrow at work we’ll reconvene with everyone and figure out a plan.”

Sana still seems shaken. You reach over with a palm and grasp the back of her left hand.

“You’ll be okay, Sana. I won’t let them do anything to you.”

Sana looks up at you with her large, expressive eyes. Tears have begun to well up.

“Why? Why are you helping me, after I just tried my hardest to ruin you?”

You take a moment to compose your response. The hurt of her betrayal still lingered somewhat, but it was overcome by the memories and genuine affection you had for her.

“Because it’s the right thing to do. I told you I’d give you a second chance and that I would protect you, and that’s what I’m doing. Besides,” you add, “you still have that blue hoodie I gave you in Tokyo, and I want it back someday.”

You grin sheepishly at the young woman, and you earn a soft giggle in response.

“It’s getting late, so you should stay here. It’s been a long flight and I’m wiped. You’ll have to ignore the complete mess in the guest room.”

Sana manages a weak smile, and you are heartened to find a little bit of color returning to her face.

“Thank you,” she says softly, trying her best to smile for you.

“Oyasumi,” you answer, before leaning forward and kissing her on the forehead and heading to your own bedroom to pass out.

---

“Sana…” you begin, as she deepens her kiss, her lips pressing more firmly against yours.

“Shhh,” she answers, “please. I need this. I need you, right now. Please.”

A part of you wants to stop her, make sure this was what she really wanted. Another part of you wanted to stop her to ensure that sex didn’t further complicate the already tricky circumstances of your relationship. But a final part of you knew that she was in a hurt state, and that she needed something, some comfort, to ease her mind, if only temporarily, from the danger SM posed to her career and her wellbeing.

And so unlike your experience with Joy a day prior, you found yourself willingly giving in. When Sana’s tongue presses softly against your lips, you didn’t resist, and soon your tongues were reacquainting themselves with one another as the passion begins to ignite in your bodies.

Sana is straddling you now, and your hands have begun to roam, up and down her slim torso and finally down to her firm butt, to find again that she wasn’t wearing underwear. As you continue to make out she has drawn the bed covers down with her left hand, revealing your shirtless torso before pressing her naked upper body against you. You revel in the newfound warmth of her small frame, and the sensation of her soft breasts and already erect nipples poking against your chest.

Sana breaks your kiss and, emboldened by your consent for her desire, she returns to placing kisses on your jawline before moving to your neck and lower. You have been with her enough times to realize what she is about to do, and you watch, enraptured, as she kisses her way to your chest, and then your belly, sliding her body down yours until her face is inches away from your boxers and the quickly hardening shaft they are covering.

Reaching up with both hands, she hooks slim fingers around the waistband of your boxers before drawing them down. She wastes little time - the boxers are lowered just enough to let your hard shaft spring free, before she grasps it with the fingertips of her right hand, and, taking a moment to ensure your eyes are glued to hers, licks it from base to tip with one long, slow slurp.

The electricity that courses throughout your body is breathtaking. Sana had given you head before, of course, not that it did anything to dull the utter pleasure that she was able to inspire in your body. Soon she has begun her blowjob in earnest, taking your shaft in and out of the wet, warm cavern of her mouth, her tongue swirling around the sensitive flesh in random patterns, each entry and exit into her lips sending spikes of pleasure from your crotch to the rest of your body.

When she had given you oral sex before it was often hurried, lustful - but tonight was different. Sana took her time, ensuring you felt every flick of her tongue and pump of her palm, the young woman seeking to revel in the moment, enjoy every second just as much as you did. She wanted to lose herself, wanted to forget that anything else in the world existed aside from the sensual act she was performing on you.

“Fuck, Sana, that’s so good,” you say, more descriptive words failing to come to mind amidst the pleasure currently overtaking your senses. A minute or an hour passes - you didn’t know or care. All that existed in the world was the young woman bobbing her head up and down between your legs.

You look down to watch as she performs, taking a stray lock of hair and brushing it behind her left ear, such an innocent act framed by such an indecent one. But there is a certain kind of sweetness to it, in a way - the act of a woman seeking to make her partner feel good by whatever means necessary.

That thought only adds to the pleasure, and you watch, enraptured, for a few more minutes as Sana pleasures you.

“Sana… God, you’re so good at that.”

Sana responds by bringing her left hand between your legs ripping your boxers free, raising her body to allow you to kick them off, finally leaving you as naked as she was. Giving your cock one last lick, she straightens her body and straddles you once again.

“Damn,” you say, “I wanted you to keep going.”

“Later, I will,” Sana says with a soft, seductive smile, “but now I want more.”

You take a moment to drink in the sight of her slim, tight body straddling your hips. Her frame is perfect, a little more on the slim side now than she was before, without losing any of the feminine charm she had in spades. Her breasts, small and humble, sit proudly high on her chest, her torso painted stripes of blue and gold by the street light filtering in through the half-shut window blinds.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” she begins, “I… I’m sorry for what I did. You’ve been so good to me, even after I betrayed you. And now you’re protecting me.”

You raise your upper body up so that you are almost sitting, bringing a hand to her soft cheek. Your faces are inches apart, and you are struck once more by her simple beauty, her cuteness and sexiness giving way tonight to sincere vulnerability. Sana nuzzles against your warm palm, her eyes closing, a soft smile on her cheeks.

“I would never let anyone hurt you, Sana.”

“I know,” she answers, “and I want you to know that I’m yours. I’ve cut off all my ties with SM. I’m yours, whether you want me just as a fuck, or as a friend, or as something more, I’m yours...”

Sana lets a soft smile appear on her lips before pressing her lips to yours once again. Her left arm wraps itself around your shoulders, and you are slightly aware of her raising her hips, her right hand finding its way between your bodies to grasp your wet, erect shaft, and line it up with her entrance.

You feel the head of your cock press against her wet, tight opening. Slowly, carefully, Sana lowers herself down onto your shaft, your cockhead parting her tight lips to impale her pussy.

Sana gasps loudly as she impales herself fully, and she opens her eyes slightly to match your gaze. You brush stray locks of hair away to reveal her face fully, and you bring her mouth back to yours to kiss her deeply.

As your tongues duel Sana begins to raise her hips, drawing your shaft out of her body before lowering it once more, and soon she has found a soft, slow rhythm as she rides you, grinding her warm, tight body against yours.

You release her from your kiss and lean backward slightly, keeping yourself upright with your hands, allowing yourself to watch as Sana takes you in and out of her body with soft grinding motions, riding you slowly, enjoying every entry and exit of your shaft.

You burn the image in your mind of her slim, young body, her small, alluring breasts, her flat stomach, the tight muscles of her thighs and hips as they work to grind her body on and off your shaft again and again and again. You watch as your shaft appears for a split second or so before driving back into her, each disappearance accompanied by a soft spike of pleasure.

As she always did, Sana has let a long string of gasps and moans stream from her mouth, beginning with your first entry into her body and not stopping, you knew, until you were done.

“Fuck,” she manages to say, “I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you so much. It’s so good.”

She rides you a little harder, a little faster, and you begin to feel her pussy tightening slightly against you, the first signs of an orgasm building inside her young body. You bring your right hand to her left hip, guiding her, pressing her down at the apex of her rhythm while you drive upward slightly with your own hips, crashing your bodies together just a little harder, a little faster against one another.

“Ohhh!” Sana exclaims, throwing her head back, sending sweat matted brown hair flying as your shaft creates a new splash of pleasure on the canvas of her senses. The moan is accompanied by a pulse of her walls around your shaft.

Sana doesn’t stop, the moans and gasps emitting from her mouth rising in volume steadily, contending only with the slap of wet skin against wet skin and the soft slurring sounds of her juices as your shaft swirls them around the inside of her body.

“I… I’m going to cum. I’m going to cum on your cock,” Sana gasps, “I… I’m cumming!”

Sana does just that, and her body erupts in pleasure, her small frame writhing and shivering as the orgasm overtakes her senses. Her lustful gasps turn into a long, passionate moan, her arms tightening around your torso as her pussy tightens in pulses around your shaft.

It takes her a minute or so to recover, but you are more than content to let her cling to your upper body as she recovers, her body occasionally shaking with pleasurable aftershocks as her orgasm winds itself out. You bury your nose in the crook of her neck, planting soft kisses on warm, sweaty skin. Eventually Sana finds the strength to bring her mouth to your ear.

“It’s your turn. Do whatever you want. I’m yours. Everything I am, all of me… I’m yours.”

You are struck by her words, not just by her consent for you to do as you wanted with her - but more so for the genuine gratitude you sensed behind them. She seemed truly contrite for what she had done to someone she cared deeply about, and wanted you to know it.

You know that this isn’t the time for rough sex, and as much as the thought of turning her around and taking her hard from behind appealed to you, this wasn’t the time for it; perhaps there would be an opportunity to do so in the near future. For now, this was a time for slow, passionate sex, and to that end you grasp her upper body to yours before rolling over on the bed so you are on top.

Sana spreads her legs instinctively, and as soon as she is on her back she raises her hands above her head, presenting you with the beautiful image of her body laid out in offering to you - her eyes are filled with lust and passion and genuine feelings for you, her perfectly sculpted body almost an afterthought to the affection you find in her eyes.

“Take me, please,” she says, her voice hardly above a whisper, “fill me with you.”

You have no other reaction than to kiss her again, your tongue invading her mouth even as your shaft does the same to her pussy, beginning to fuck her slowly, carefully, with the same amount of passion and consideration she had when she was riding you minutes earlier. You savor every thrust, every small pulse of her pussy, enjoy the feeling of her juices and wetness coating your shaft and balls and making every entry into her body so slick, so easy, so pleasurable.

You are almost ashamed to admit that your orgasm is fast approaching - something about the emotion in Sana’s eyes and warmth of her body only heightened the pleasure coursing throughout your body and mind. You quicken your thrusts slightly, and Sana wraps her legs around your thrusting hips as she senses what that means. You rip your mouth from hers and bury it in the pillow next to her face.

Her mouth is next to your ear now, and she does her best to encourage you, urging you on with soft gasps and moans with each thrust you take into her pussy. She is tight and wet around you, but most overwhelming of all is the heat of her body pressed and wrapped around yours, welcoming each thrust into your body.

“Cum for me, please… fill me. Fill me with your cum. I want it. Please… cum inside me.”

Almost immediately you begin to orgasm, as though her words are a trigger. The pleasure is almost overwhelming, contributed to by the passion between you, the desire in her words, and the need to provide Sana with some comfort, some security in knowing you were there for her. Your shaft pulses with each burst of semen erupting from it, filling Sana’s pussy with thick, hot cum, every splash of hot juice eliciting a sharp gasp from the young woman.

You breath heavily into the pillow, and Sana hugs you tightly with each of her limbs, breathing heavily and loudly into your own ear. Eventually she recovers enough to kiss your ear lightly.

“Arigato,” she whispers softly.

---

When you wake up in the morning you are immediately aware of the weight on your chest that has rendered the entire left side of your body numb. But your fear is quickly abated by the realization that the ball of brown hair that is the cause of the numbness is Minatozaki Sana’s head. Smiling softly to yourself and taking a moment to savor the feel of her warm body pressed against yours, you slowly ease yourself up and away from the young woman’s tangling limbs - you only partially succeed, and she appears to awaken slightly, but she mumbles something beneath her breath before seemingly falling back to sleep.

You brush hair away from her head to reveal her sleeping features; ostensibly to get her hair out of her face and allow her to breathe easier, but you knew inside that it was because you wanted a clearer look at her sleeping face. She was adorable sleeping, but she could also be sensual and sexy, and smart, and charming, and intelligent… despite the events of the past month, you were nonetheless stricken once more by the young woman.

You smile to yourself as you get up and head towards the kitchen to make some coffee.

On your bedside, there is a picture of you and Momo - a simple couple selfie taken during one of your dates. For the first time in many months, its existence was temporarily forgotten.

---

On the way to the kitchen, you pick up your suit blazer, still lying where it was when you threw it over the couch after you got home from the airport but before Sana arrived. You reach into the suit jacket pocket to find your passport, happy to find that it was still there. You take out the small booklet to find a small slip of paper falling out with it. For a second you think it might have been the business card Wendy had slipped into your pants back in Seoul, but then you remember having put that away in your briefcase before the flight home.

You think it might be a receipt or some other inconsequential scrap of paper - but as you pick it up you decide to open it. Odd, because you don’t remember putting anything aside from your passport into your suit jacket, and no one else would have had the opportunity to put anything in there, except for...

It is a handwritten note, consisting of short note and an email address.

I can help you.

[email protected]

---

#kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #Smut #pov smut #male reader #twice #twice sana #sana #minatozaki sana #red velvet #red velvet joy

134 notes · View notes

kbstories · 4 years ago

Text

impression//expression

"It’s not like Kirishima had come all this way to U.A. to immediately break the promise he made to himself upon arrival.

It’s just that Bakugou is as feral as they come, and the moment Kirishima recognizes it’s fear he felt crawling up his spine that day, he makes it his personal mission to face it head-on until it’s gone."

(Or: Being friends with Bakugou Katsuki is anything but a linear experience. Kirishima Eijirou would have it no other way.)

Tags: Kirishima POV, Developing Friendships, Post-Kamino Arc, Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Kiri Has A Dog Because I Said So

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Content warning for anxiety attacks and discussions thereof. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9.

***

Kirishima comes to sunlight shining on his face and an armful of Bakugou.

It’s not a sudden jolt of consciousness that alerts him of this. His brain comes online one synapse at a time with how all-around cozy he is, bundled up in comfortably warm covers with Bakugou’s head nestled in the crook of his neck, his arm wrapped loosely around Kirishima’s waist. In actuality, Kirishima slept so well it’s legitimately hard to get himself to wake up beyond lazily squinting an eye against that bright glare.

Which is why his first move is to pull the blanket up higher and snuggle closer to his Bakugou-shaped pillow. Bakugou, for his part, breathes something between a mumble and a sigh and slumbers on.

Out like a light. He’s onto something there, Kirishima muses. For a while, he lets himself drift to the calm two-step beat of Bakugou’s heart keeping time against his chest, the gentle tickle of Bakugou’s hair under his chin. Blissful oblivion nips at the edges of his mind; his body can’t quite get there, though, that pesky bit of awareness clinging to existence despite his best efforts.

Urgh, fine.

Kirishima blinks with a little more purpose behind it. His vision is blurred from overall drowsiness and the murky half-dark the blanket provides. Bakugou is easy to make out regardless, face slack and close enough Kirishima can see the minute shift of blonde lashes as he snoozes. It’s the residue redness around his eyes that nudges Kirishima’s brain to wonder and think and remember–

Blue fire. Unread texts. The hospital, Kamino Ward, All Might. Bakugou.

All at once, the sight of Bakugou passed out in his arms is anything but a peaceful one. It’s intimate in a way Kirishima suddenly feels uncomfortable with, not because he doesn’t like it – in his educated opinion, any day starting with cuddling is good by default – but because Bakugou is the least touch-y person he knows and this is crossing so many lines. All the lines.

Lines drawn by unspoken rules and implicit understandings Kirishima learned by sheer trial and error. All those other times Bakugou let his guard down around him seem like peanuts compared to this.

But… Bakugou is resting. Catching up on untold amounts of missed sleep, looking far more relaxed than Kirishima could’ve hoped for. Perhaps it would’ve been better to ensure he makes it to his own bed instead of sharing the pull-out couch; perhaps Kirishima shouldn’t have pushed when things are so fresh. Kirishima’s hands ache to move from between Bakugou’s shoulders yet letting him go feels wrong, too.

It was far too easy, last time. To sit there and bicker in class while Bakugou faded from view, mere miles away.

The dread roiling within him is familiar, as are the maybes and what-ifs that accompany it. It returns like an old friend, the thought of losing him to people who mistake his violence for villainy, who disregard the good shining at Bakugou’s very core in favor of the hurt his hands can cause. The brightest star in the sky, burning, desperate to be seen, to be acknowledged.

It makes Kirishima restless, this feeling – like the air is growing thin and the ground is about to collapse beneath their feet, and it’s up to Kirishima to get them out of there. His blood thrums with the need to fight tooth and nail to keep whatever is causing it away, to shield Bakugou until the shaking stops and the debris settles.

Kirishima has failed Bakugou once already. Not again, never again–

“Think any harder an’ your brain’s gonna melt.”

Kirishima’s heart nearly stops, then jumps into overdrive. A hesitant glance proves that, yup, that’s Bakugou stirring, right there. Bleary-eyed and still far too soft around the edges but awake. Kirishima isn’t ready for this.

He’s also dead. Super dead. Buried-so-deep-nobody-will-ever-find-his-body dead.

He swallows, any sort of greeting escaping his mind except a quiet, “Oh.”

Bakugou yawns and rubs at his eye, a gesture made clumsy with sleepiness. “Mm?” He props himself up, a hand laid flat on Kirishima’s chest. “Calm down, will ya? Your heart’s goin’ like crazy.”

There are no words to describe how impossible that is right now. “Um”, Kirishima says intelligently, and: “Sorry.” A little sheepish, since he can’t exactly help what his heart does (or his brain, for that matter).

He is on the verge of panicking, Kirishima notes dimly. That realization alone does little to chase away the half-formulated doubts threatening to choke him, that inkling of fear that’s on the brink of spiraling out of control. A moment later, he has to consciously unclench his hardened hands from the back of Bakugou’s shirt, which–

Ah. That’s what woke him up.

“Shit. S-sorry, I–”

There’s a frown on Bakugou’s face as he sits up. “Nothing’s goin’ on”, he tells him, calm where Kirishima can’t be. “’s just my room.” Just as deliberate, the covers are pushed aside to allow cool air to flow into their private niche of the world. Everything’s so bright, so–

“Kiri? Hey. Give me your hands.”

It takes considerable effort to focus on Bakugou’s voice. “Whuh?”

“Your hands. Like this.”

Bakugou holds out his own, palm-up. Kirishima does the same, staring blankly at his trembling, rock-hewn fingers. When Bakugou holds his palm, it’s with a touch Kirishima can barely feel. “Focus on this”, a low murmur followed by pressure to the meat of Kirishima’s thumb, faint despite the bones in Bakugou’s wrist showing from the effort. Bakugou slides it upwards and to the webbing connecting to his index, marginally more giving.

“You’re okay. Just breathe. Focus, right here.”

The touch shifts again, down to his wrist. Kirishima lets him do whatever, watching with a detached sort of fascination as his quirk relents. Bakugou’s thumb brushes over the spot where Kirishima’s veins are becoming visible again, the skin there thin and delicate. He digs in, an inch or two from his hand.

It’s a little rougher than before. Not unpleasant, just unexpected, and Kirishima’s fingers twitch. Bakugou’s lips press together. He does it again, notably gentler. “You with me?”

Kirishima hums. The question registers a moment later and he nods for good measure. “Yeah, I– It helps. This.”

“Mh.” Bakugou gestures for his other arm; he starts from his wrist and goes up to his hand this time, eyes on what he’s doing. “Pressure points are useful shit. You got one here”, a pinch to that spot between thumb and index, “and here”, a tap to his wrist. “Works best if it’s someone else doing it but you can, too.”

That sounds vaguely familiar. Perhaps something that came up the last time he googled it? Panic attacks used to be much more of an thing for Kirishima – before he hair-dyed and bench-pressed Red Riot into something more real, more than a distant daydream. More than a scared kid with shitty self-esteem.

(Life’s been manageable, since. Chaotic and distressing in a host of other ways as it swings back and forth between joy and disaster like fate’s cruelest pendulum and actually, it might be a bit of a miracle it took this long for his anxiety to make a comeback.)

Memorizing any new info is beyond Kirishima right now; he strong-arms his braincells to hold onto the term ‘pressure point’, at least. And if Bakugou is sharing, Kirishima figures it’s only fair to share back.

“The one I know is like, deep breathing? And, um. Talking through it. Counting things you can sense. What you see, hear, smell, and so on. It’s just…”

“Hard to do that by yourself, yeah.”

By this point, Bakugou is just brushing his thumb along the lines on Kirishima’s palm and that feels really nice, too. The image of his hands clawing up worn fabric is hard to shake off, though, making Kirishima’s stomach churn with guilt.

“Sorry, man. For waking you up, I mean. And freaking out on you. I didn’t hurt you, right? You’d tell me if I hurt you.”

It’s meant to come out with confidence, because Kirishima trusts Bakugou. It’s trusting himself that's the problem, sometimes.

A groan, long-suffering. “How many times…” Bakugou gives him a look caught between annoyance and fondness. “Kiri. First off, after yesterday, I have no fucking room to complain when it comes to– That. It happens, it sucks, it’s fine. It’s not your fault or whatever. Secondly–”

Kirishima almost chuckles at how pointed that one word is. He shelves the comment on his tongue for after the Bakugou Lecture he’s being treated to.

“I fell asleep on you. Which, my bad but also fuck you, I was tired and some fucking sap wanted to talk feelings at screw-this-AM. There’re no… scratches or anything, and you make an okay pillow for being a literal rock. So, we’re even.”

Kirishima does laugh at that. “I’m not a rock! Get your facts straight, bro.”

“And thirdly”, Bakugou continues with a smirk, “I just turned your hands into bombs, you dumb fucking rock. Either you let me spark it off you or I’m kicking you out to wash it off before that shit goes boom.”

“Spark off?” Head tilting, Kirishima looks at his hands. He doesn’t see anything but if Bakugou says there’s nitro, there’s definitely nitro. “Wait, is that what you do when you…?”

The gesture Bakugou does to let rapid-fire explosions flicker in his palms is easily copied, Kirishima has seen him do it countless times. The other rolls his eyes.

“Yeah. I got tired of getting it all over the place and wearing gloves twenty-four-seven is uncomfortable as fuck, I tried. Plus, burning shit is fun.”

Huh. Kirishima holds out his hands once more, a swift grin on his lips. “Sounds cool. One sparking off, please!”

Bakugou slaps them away immediately. “Use your quirk, dipshit. Or d’you actually wanna get ‘em blown to pieces?”

“Oh. Right.”

Everything under Kirishima’s elbow hardens in an instant. This time, Bakugou huffs under his breath and takes them between his palms. “Here goes.”

A flash, the familiar crackle of firecracker explosions – Kirishima braced himself for it to hurt a little despite Bakugou’s insane control over his quirk, and he does feel it. It tickles, mostly, the sensation of tiny bursts of heat rolling from his fingertips to his wrist a strangely soothing one.

Bakugou looks over his hands when he’s done, the tightness between his brows easing. Then he glances up to Kirishima’s face and sees the smile that’s broad enough to make his cheeks ache. The frown comes back tenfold.

“No.”

“Dude, yes. Do that again.”

“Nope. Fuck you, Shitty Hair, no.”

“You said it’s fun two seconds ago! Checkmate, I win.”

“Kirishima.”

Kirishima snickers until Bakugou’s palm presses against his cheek. It’s basically second nature to harden in time for the explosion to go by harmlessly and oh, this is so going to become a thing.

“It’s a thing now”, he informs Bakugou. “Can it be like our handshake? We totally need a handshake. What kind of besties are we withou–” A gasp. “Oh, oh, we can do the thing after training, too! I won’t even need to wash my hands. It’s fun and useful.”

Bakugou’s face twists. “What the hell? That’s fucking disgusting.” In one fluid movement, he’s out of their blanket nest and stomping off the couch. It would be intimidating… if not for his wrinkled shirt and sleep-mussed hair making it kind of adorable, instead.

“I’m done talking to you.”

“Aww, bro!”

Kirishima crawls half-way over the armrest only to catch a throw pillow – hah! – to the face. Another thud follows, turning out to be Kirishima’s phone tossed from across the room.

“Even mooched off my charger, ugh. You got a million missed messages. Take care of ‘em before your moms call the cops, bro.”

Bakugou's tone is practically drenched in sarcasm but Kirishima doesn’t care, he beams. Bakugou called him his bro and there’re simply no take-backs allowed on a declaration like that.

💪🏻 Kirishima Power 💪🏻

Mama K: Honey, are you awake yet? (received 10:10)

Mama K: Your mom and I are ready to come pick you up whenever. (received 11:20)

Mom: also let us know when we can start hunting your teachers for sport (received 11:22)

Mama K: No murder until our son is back, dear. (received 11:22)

Mom: mhmm sure (received 11:23)

aaaa morning!! (sent 11:38)

oh shit it’s almost noon hhhh (sent 11:38)

Mom: language kiddo (received 11:38)

oh crap** sry (sent 11:38)

Mama K: Welcome back! ❤️ (received 11:39)

hey mama ❤️ (sent 11:39)

ok so picking up is good!! we’re eating breakfast rn (sent 11:42)

well more like lunch 🙈 (sent 11:42)

Mama K: Okay! Now or later? (received 11:43)

ah, mitsuki is saying you two should swing by for tea so maybe in an hour? (sent 11:47)

and that the teachers are actually coming here?? later?? idk why tho (sent 11:48)

aside from, y’know (sent 11:48)

Mama K: Yeah 🙁 (received 11:50)

Mom: how’s katsuki holding up? (received 11:50)

umm ok. kinda. he looks tired as heck tbh and i’m not sure how happy he is about the teacher thing (sent 11:55)

it’s all a bit oof (sent 11:56)

Mom: hmm. anything we can do to help? (received 12:01)

def give him his space (sent 12:03)

and maybe don’t kill aizawa @Mom looking at u haha (sent 12:03)

Mom: bummer (received 12:06)

actually… one more thing? 👀 (sent 12:10)

Mama K: You want us to bring the big guns, huh? (received 12:12)

After the hellos and introductions and obligatory fussing over Kirishima – Mama gives him her usual forehead kiss, expertly avoiding his freshly-spiked hair, while Mom wraps him in her patented rib-pulverizing hug – the parents go inside, leaving Bakugou and Kirishima in the yard with…

“Riot.”

Kirishima grins and nods. He heaves the hundred pounds of tail-wagging excitement into a more comfortable position against his chest, big paws coming to rest on his shoulders. “Yeah! Isn’t he the cutest?”

“Your dog is called Riot.”

“Yup!”

Bakugou openly stares at Riot’s drooling smile. After a painfully long pause, he goes: “Okay.”

If all it took to make Bakugou speechless was an Akita with an unexpected (?) name, Kirishima would’ve introduced him to Riot ages ago. As it is, it’s taking all his willpower not to crack up at Bakugou’s expression. It’s like watching one of those ancient Windows computers suffer a system crash so severe even the task manager stops functioning.

Arms full of dog, Kirishima nudges him with his elbow. Reboot initialized. “But?”

Bakugou shakes himself a little. He gestures to Riot, or perhaps to Kirishima, or both? It’s hard to tell. “But… just, like… Why?”

Priceless. Kirishima silently vows to cherish this rarest of blessings in his memories for eternity. It won’t do to rescue Bakugou only to give him an aneurism the very next day. Setting Riot down, Kirishima pats orange-white hair off his borrowed clothes. The Akita immediately trots over to Bakugou to say hi.

“I got Riot when I was really small, like six-ish? Seven? Something like that.”

Bakugou crouches and holds out his hand for a curious black nose to sniff. Kirishima sits down next to them, watching Riot take a deep whiff and promptly sneeze. Bakugou mutters something about explosives and dumb dog, be careful. Despite the forced casualness on Bakugou’s part, it’s clear he’s not used to being around dogs.

Still, he’s trying. Kirishima’s grin tempers to a soft, close-lipped smile at the sight.

“Back then, I only had a vague idea of who I’d wanna be. As a hero, y’know?” He reaches over to scratch Riot’s favorite spot at the base of his curled tail. It starts wagging immediately. “I was tossing around a few names and somehow Riot stuck. So, I tried it out on him and by the time I realized ‘Yup, that’s the one!’, he didn’t wanna listen to anything else.”

Riot pants at him, mouth wide. Kirishima boops his wet nose. “Yeah, I’m talkin’ about you. Stubborn dog.”

“You’re telling me your hero name got stolen”, Bakugou summarizes drily. “By a dog. When you were six.”

Figures that’s what Bakugou would get out of this. Kirishima snorts and shrugs.

“I guess? Riot – the hero, not the dog – existed way before the whole ‘Red’ stuff came along, ‘cause like… Crimson was out there, I knew he existed, but his philosophy was a bit beyond me. He wasn’t my hero yet, you feel me?”

Bakugou hums. “You weren’t a hero nerd yet. Just a space nerd.”

That startles a laugh out of Kirishima. He knocks his shoulder against Bakugou’s. “Exactly! See, you get me.”

“Shut up, nerd”, comes the predictable reply with a rougher knock back.

Eventually, Bakugou joins him in the grass, his knees propped up and elbows resting on them. Riot makes himself comfortable as well, sprawling on his side with his head resting on Bakugou’s thigh. The full might of pleading canine eyes look upwards. Bakugou squints. “The fuck.”

“He wants scritches”, Kirishima translates readily.

A beat, then Bakugou carefully rubs the knuckles of his index and middle finger in-between the white spots on Riot’s face. Riot huffs a content sigh and melts into the gentle touch.

“Hm. He’s soft.”

“Right? As a puppy, he was the softest and tiniest thing you can imagine. Wait, I might have pics on my phone. Gimme a sec.”

A bit of searching, and Kirishima taps on an old photo of him as a kid, pointy teeth flashed in an impossibly big smile as he hugs a chubby ball of brown fluff close to his face. Mama had dug it up from some dusty family album in a bout of nostalgia after Kirishima broke the news he’d been accepted to U.A.

“Behold: Baby Riot.”

Kirishima shows it to Bakugou. Only after Bakugou’s brows rise does he remember he’s probably never seen him with his natural hair color. Whoops.

Studying the photo for a moment, Bakugou continues to pet the adult version of Riot absent-mindedly. “He looks like a potato.”

“Wha–” Kirishima checks the photo to make sure it’s the same one. “Bakugou. It’s a puppy. It’s like, scientifically proven puppies are the one and only road to world peace. Hello? Nobody hates on a puppy, especially this one.”

Whatever face he’s making has Bakugou smirking, eyes sharp under a brow raised in challenge. “It’s got a weird shape and is brown. Potato.”

Kirishima whines. “Why are you like this? Riot, don’t listen to him, man. You’re the best.”

Riot has fallen asleep, oblivious to the outrageous claims being made in his presence. It’s better that way – the good, old boy deserves better than this slander.

Bakugou is looking down to the snoring dog, too, and something about it must soften even a prickly hedgehog heart like his because he sighs and grumbles: “He’s kinda cool. Maybe.”

Gotcha.

Kirishima pumps his fist in sweet, sweet victory. Nobody, not even the eternally grumpy, can resist the Kirishimas’ secret weapon.

On the way back home, Kirishima messes around with his camera until he’s managed a half-decent selfie of himself and Riot sharing the backseat of his parents’ car. A brief moment is spent hovering over his chat with Bakugou.

It’s the first time he’s opened it since– Since.

Baku 💣💥

[riot(s).jpg] (sent 16:58)

thanks for hosting me man 🐶 (sent 16:58)

dorm life, here we come!! (sent 16:59)

The tension in Kirishima’s chest is knocked loose as the ticks turn blue without delay, closing the gap to the ones from the lodge like it never existed. It unwinds entirely when, a handful of minutes later, Bakugou replies.

Baku 💣💥

idiot (received 17:05)

see you soon (received 17:05)

>>Chapter 6

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou #kiribaku #bnha fanfiction #i wanted some fluff so i gave kiri a dog #this fic is also on AO3!!#reblogs appreciated c:#my stuff

24 notes · View notes

leedongwook · 4 years ago

Text

Buddie lifeguard AU 🌸 Part 5

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

Read on Ao3

“Hey Buck, how’s the pretty head?“

“Hey Buck, your head ok?“

“Hey Buck.“

Eddie deletes the message and tries again. He’s trying to find the right words to text Buck for ten minutes now but he can’t form a good sentence. He scratches at his head and sighs.

“Hi Buck, you up for a drink?“

Eddie stares at his phone again. Would he even be up for a drink? What if his head was more hurt than he thought. He’d called the hospital in the evening to check if Buck was still there, but the annoyed nurse on the phone didn’t give him any informations. Which Eddie knows is rigth, since he’s not a relative of Buck. He’s been lying awake all night though, thinking about texting Buck or not.

He’s still worried in the morning and decides to finally send Buck a quick message. The words just don’t want to come to him.

Eddies sighs again and deletes the message. Just when he wants to put his phone away, it rings and he almost drops it on the floor. Eddie stares at his phone in confusion and blinks at the caller ID showing up.

It’s Buck.

How does he have his number? Eddie doesn’t remember giving it to him. Eddies hands start to sweat and he giggles weirdly. He shakes his head at himself in annoyance. Get a grip Eddie and answer the call.

Just when his finger hovers over the caller button, the sounds stops. It goes to voice mail. Eddie curses and throws himself back on the couch. He really wants to talk to Buck. He doesn’t know why it’s so hard for him or actually he does know. He really likes Buck and he doesn’t want to ruin things with him.

The phone starts ringing again and Eddie lunges forward to grab his phone answering it immediately.

“Buck, hey how are you? Everything ok? How do you have my number?“

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut when he only hears Bucks breathing on the other side. How awkward was that.

“Hello to you too, Eddie.“

Eddie hears Buck laugh and his heart beats against his ribcage way too fast.

“Oh, oh yeah hi. Erm …“

“You ok over there, Eddie?“

Eddie coughs awkwardly and rubs his fingers along his thighs. God, he’s being weird and Buck’s gonna hang up on him any second.

“I’m … I’m good … yeah thanks.“

“Good. I asked Maddie to ask Chim for your number because I wanted to say thanks for helping me yesterday. I guess, I was a bit of a mess. Sorry.“

Eddie imagines Buck sitting on his couch in his appartment, alone, head bowed, sad eyes, thinking he’s been a burden to Eddie because he was involved in the accident. Eddie suddenly can‘t bare the thought of Buck being sad. He takes a deep breath and his voice comes out soft and calm.

“Hey, no it’s ok Buck, I am glad I was there to help you. You been a hero helping everyone else, even though you were hurt. How’s the head by the way, what did the doctor say?“

He hears Buck sigh on the other end.

“Slight concussion. I’ve got a hard head. I’m just annoyed that I can’t work for the rest of the week.“

Eddie chuckles. Of course he can’t sit still and rest. Buck always wants to be on the move, always wants to help.

“Right back into action, huh.“

Buck laughs and he sounds happier.

“Yeah you know me, I always need stuff to do. That’s why I was thinking if you and Chris might wanna come around on the weekend for a beach day? Hang out and stuff.“

For the first time Eddie thinks he can hear Buck being a bit insecure and it’s actually kinda cute. Eddies heart jumps a bit because he’d hang out with Buck every day, if he’s honest.

“Erm yeah I guess. I think Chris would love to see you again.“

And me too thinks Eddie but doesn’t say it out loud.

“Yeah that’s cool. Maybe we can jump on a surfboard or something. Just yeah, cool.“

“Sounds like a date then, eh I mean yeah we can do that, yes. Text me where and when, but we’re free the whole weekend, so whenever you want.“

“Cool. Then see you on the weekend Eddie. And thanks again.“

“Don’t mention it, someone has to lookt out for that pretty head of yours.“

Eddie bites at his lip when he finishes his sentence but he’s only getting Buck laugh as a reply. He hangs up and throws himself back at the couch, covering his eyes with his arms. Why is he always so awkward around Buck. That guy really had a number on him huh.

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

“Daaaadd, are you coming.“

Christopher‘s already standing at the door waiting for Eddie to go. He‘s checking his beach bag again, just in case, so he doesn‘t forget anything. He’s not mentionioning the four times he looked in the mirror to check that his hairs sits right. Chimne would make fun of him if he was here.

“Yeah buddy, I‘m coming.“

His son was all hyped up and excited when he told him that they’re gonna hang out with Buck on the beach on the weekend. He counted the days and Eddie has to admit he did so too.

He walks out oft he bathroom and grabs his bag. One last check on his hair again and then he’s opening the door for Chris to walk outside.

“Ready superman?“

Chris nods and smiles happily at his father. The drive over to the beach doesn’t take long and when Eddie parks the car in the carpark, he sees Buck waiting at the beach house. He quickly helps his sound oft he car and they walk over to where Buck is waiting.

As soon as Buck sees the two of them he runs over and grabs Chris underneath his arms and throws him around. Chris giggles and holds tight at Bucks arms.

“Hey kiddo, I missed you.“

Bucks eyes are wide and shine bright, he’s got a huge grin on his face. Eddie notices the bandaid on his head though and his cheek bone looks a bit swollen. Probably from where he hit his head on the steering wheel.

When Buck puts his son down again, the little boy frowns and point his finger to Bucks head.

“Are you ok Buck, you got a bandaid there?“

Buck kneels down in front of the kid.

“Don’t worry, just a little bump, my heads tough.“

He smiles again and bumps his son on the nose, who immediately lights up again. They both turn around and look over to where Eddie’s standing with the bag.

“Hi Eddie, nice to see you.“

Buck looks good with his swim shorts and the white shirt, he’s wearing. It’s sitting thight around his torso and Eddie can see his abs shining through. He blushes a bit and shakes himself to focus back on Buck.

“Hi Buck, thank you for inviting us.“

“You need help with your stuff?“

Buck points at Eddies bag.

“No, no I’m fine, you go ahead.“

Buck nods and crouches down in front of Chris again.

“Hop my little man, lets see if we’re faster than your daddy.“

Chris grins and carefuly climbs on Bucks back. Buck takes his crutches and starts running.

The boy is jumping up and down on Bucks back and Eddie can her his happy screams.

“Last one‘s the looser.“

Eddie chuckles and follows Buck and his son over to the beach.

When he reaches the water he sees Buck running along the beach jumping up when the water hits his feet. His son‘s still clinging onto his back and every time he jumps, he laughs loudly.

Christopher looks up and sees him standing there, his smile even bigger now.

“We won daddy, we won.”

Buck stops and walks over to where Eddie‘s standing in the sand.

“Your dad’s slower than a turtle isn’t he.”

Buck chuckles and brushes against Eddies shoulder with his hand.

Eddie looks at his shoulder where Buck just touched him and then back to Buck. The other man’s smiling brightly at him. Tiny water droplets are running down his cheeks, over his delicate jawline and down his throat and disppear under his shirt. Eddie catches a glimps of a tiny birthmark sitting there.

His son tugging at his shorts starles him and he looks at him.

“Dad, can I try some surfing, please, please.”

Eddie looks over to where the surfboards are lying in the sand.

“I’ll hold him the whole time Eddie. He’ll be safe. I promise.”

Buck doesn’t have to promise him. He knows he’ll keep his son safe. Chris walks in front of him and looks at him with his best puppy eyes.

“Please dad, please.”

Buck stands himself behind his son and gives him his best happy smile.

“Ah, I hate you two.”

Chris claps his hands together in joy.

“Oh, you love us, dad.”

Eddie tousles through his sons hair and presses a kiss on his forehead.

“Yeah, yeah I do.”

Buck winks at Eddie before he walks over to get the surfobards and a life vest for Christopher. Eddie puts the towels in the sand and sits himself down to keep an eye on his son and Buck.

Buck carefully puts the life vest on Chris, always talking to him. He must have made a joke because his son holds his tummy and can‘t stop laughing. Buck takes his hand and helps him going over to the water. He puts the surfboard in the water and lifts Christopher on it. He sits himself behind the kid and slowly paddles away, into the small waves at the shore.

His son holdss his hands into the water. He looks so happy and excited and it warms Eddies heart. Buck somehow always senses what the kid needs or wants. It’s beautiful to watch the two of them togehter. His son‘s grown to trust Buck really fast but Eddies doesn‘t blame him because he himself has that feeling of calmness and saftey when he’s around Buck.

When he looks back at the water he sees Buck lift his son onto the surfboard now so he‘s standning on it.

His son waves at him, eyes bright.

“Look daddy, look I’m a surfer.”

Eddie gets up from where he’s sitting, to have a better view at them.

“Yes, you are my little super man, you are. You’re doing awesome.”

Buck lets go of Christophers hands and the last wave takes the kid onto to beach. The board stops abruptly, but Buck‘s already there catching the boy, before he falls over. He lifts him up again and Chris climbs on his back. They both walk over to Eddie.

“This was amazing bud, you did so well.”

Chris is still super hyper and he can’t stop smiling.

“Did I look like a real surfer?

Eddie takes him into a hug and rubs at his back.

“You did buddie, you did.”

He lets go of Chris and hands him a bottle of water.

“Thanks Buck, this was awesome.”

Buck nods.

“No problem. He’s a natural. You wanna have a go, too?”

Eddies puts his hands in the air and waves around.

“What me? No I don’t think…”

“Oh yes daddy, I wanna see you surf.”

Eddie nervously rubs at his arms.

“I don’t think I can.”

“Buck can help you, can’t you Buck?”

Buck taps on Chris shoulder gently.

“Course I can, If your dad wants to try?”

Buck looks at him with questioning eyes.

“You wanna try?”

“Ok, ok i’ll give it try.”

Chris applauds him and sits down on the towel. Both men walk over to the surfboards and Buck takes his shirt off and throws it in the sand.

Eddie can’t help and look at him. He’s got goosebump on his skin, probably from the cold water earlier. A tiny droplet runs down his chest, all the way down to his navel. Eddie takes in a harsh breath when he can see a blue bruise running from his shoulder square over his chest, down to his abdomen.

Buck notices where Eddies looking at.

“Seatbealt. Looks worse than it is, doesnt even hurt anymore.”

Eddie wants to run his finger along the bruise, wants to check if there’s more damage. Broken ribs or anything.

“Eddie I’m fine.”

Bucks voice getting louder snaps him out of his trance.

“Good, that’s good. I’m glad.”

Suddenly Bucks hand appears in front of his face.

“Get on the surfboard, Diaz.”

Buck smiles and Eddie thinks the blue of the ocean makes his eyes look even bluer and more magical.

He takes the other mans hand and lets himself be helped on the board. His first surfing attempts are awkward and Eddie thinks he’s absolute awful in doing this. Bucks smiles and the other mans support makes him want to try again.

Suddenly there’s a wave crashing right in front of them and the movement of the water throws Eddie forward and off the surfboard. Buck lunges forward to stop Eddies fall but his foot gets stuck under the board and he falls backwards into the sand, followed by Eddie, who lands on top of him. Eddie opens his eyes and looks at Buck the other man’s eyes are wide and so so blue, it’s like the ocean is mirroring it‘s color in them. Eddie feels the water washing over his legs. His legs which are resting inbetween Bucks. He can feel Bucks hip move under him, his abs being strained against the weight on top of him and Eddie remembers the bruise on the other man’s chest. Bucks arms lie rigth and left, next to his body. Eddie’s arms are in the sand right next to Bucks head. The other man looks at him with a smile. His lips are pink, so pink and Eddie wishes he’d know how they taste. There’s those tiny freckles around his nose and Eddie thinks Buck has the prettiest eyelashes he’s ever seen. Tiny water drops are clinging onto them and sparkle in the sun. He can see another scar on his forehead probably from work. It’s all healed and looks white and faint against his skin. Eddie slowly lifts his one hand and holds it against Bucks cheek. It’s like the other man’s skin is sparkling with the sea salt sitting on it. Buck is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Eddie feels the other man move underneath him, his hips grinding against him. Buck licks at his lips and it’s driving Eddie insane.

“Eddie.“

Bucks voice is soft and barely a whisper. His chest feels tight and he just realizes now that they’re both topless and their skin touches the other. He can almost feel Bucks heartbeat against his. Buck moves his fingers to Eddies wrist holding it gently. He looks at him with bright eyes.

“Daddy, Buck are you two ok?”

Christopher appears next to the two men and rips them out of their little moment. Eddies tongue feels heavy though and he can’t get a word out, instead he hears Buck answer. His voice making his chest vibrating against his.

“We’re good kid. The sand softened our fall. Guess your dad needs to practice a bit more.”

Buck laughs and Eddie can feel his stomach muscles move under him.

“Can you maybe, get up. You’re heavier than you look.”

Eddie blinks at Buck confused, still being mesmerized by the other man’s presence.

“Oh, yeah sorry. Thanks for cushioning my fall, I guess.”

“No, problem.”

Eddie carefully shuffles backwards and gets up. The holds his hand towards Buck and helps him get up.

They’re both wet and full of sand.

“What about we jump in the water a bit to get the sand off and then we’ll get some ice cream? How does that sound.“

Christophers takes his fathers hand and his other finds its way over to Bucks hand. Holding them both tight he pulls them over to the water. Eddie thinks this might be a bit too much for Buck, but when he looks over to the other man he’s smiling and follows his sons lead. Eddie thinks it’s a nice picture. Buck being a part of this, being a part of their family.

Buck lets go of the boys hand and starts splashing water around and hits Eddie right in the face. Christopher screams and laughs loudly. They all start to splash water around till they’re all wet and tired and their stomachs hurt from all the laughing and they decided to call it a day and head home in a bit.

Eddie packing the bags already when Buck comes back with three big ice cream cups. They’d built a sandcastle earlier and Chris is sitting next to it. Buck hands the ice cream to Chris, who excitingly licks at it.

The other man then walks over to where Eddies packing their stuff togehter and motions for him to sit down and take the ice cream. Buck sits himself down next to Eddie. Chris is couple of meters in front of them hungrily licking at his icream and watching the ocean.

Eddie gently bumps his leg against Bucks.

“Thank you Buck. You made this one really happy.”

Buck turns his head over to Eddie.

“Just this one?” He points over to Chris and then puts his hand on Eddies thigh.

“Or this one aswell?”

Eddie swallows hard. Buck’s incredibly close to him now, he can see the tiny sand grains sitting on his skin. He blushes and nervously licks at his ice cream.

“Eddie.”

He looks back at Buck and he’s so close. His eyes are so blue. Buck licks at his lips and Eddie wants to kiss him so badly.

He puts his hand over Bucks, that is still resting on his thigh.

“Yeah, this one too.”

“Yeah?”

Christopher yelling for them, interrupts them again and both men get up to bring the bags over to the car. Buck carefully buckles Chris into the car and says his goodbyes.

“Thanks again, Buck.”

“No problem, it was a great day. Your kid is great.”

Buck leans forward and before Eddie can react, the other mans lips connect with his cheek. They’re soft and warm and Buck smells like sand and sea water.

“See you, Eds.”

Buck slowly moves his face away and winks at him one more time before he walks over to his own truck. Eddie gently taps at his cheek where moments before Bucks lips had been resting.

He feels like he’s in a kind of trance when he watches Buck drive away and he thinks he might be in love.

In love with Buck.

#buddie #buddie fanfiction #911 #911 fanfiction #haleys fics #my fics #my writing #this might be the last chapter tho #because I don't see ppl be interested in it

26 notes · View notes

noona-clock · 5 years ago

Text

Mistletoe Manor - Epilogue, Part 2

Genre: 1900′s AU/Romance

Pairings: Park Seo Joon, Bang Yongguk, Brian Kang, Jung Daehyung, Jung Jaehyun, Lee Taeyong x OCs

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, Epilogue 1, 2, 3, 4 | Words: 3,753

A/N: Chelle ( @prettywordsyouleft ) and I wanted to re-visit our magical world of Mistletoe Manor. The series left off on a bit of a cliffhanger, so we really had no choice! We hope you enjoy this extra look into the lives of Cassie, Evie, Joey, and all their friends and family.

Keep a lookout for the third part of the epilogue tomorrow at 6pm EST/ 10am NZST on Chelle’s blog!

Since the wedding was fast approaching, Evie found she could barely walk through the manor without being accosted by someone to discuss details. Whether it was her mother bringing up flowers, the cook bringing up menu items, Lydia bringing up her dress and hairstyle... truly, not an hour went by in which she didn’t answer questions or make decisions about her wedding.

It was quite exhausting.

Which is why, as she arrived back home after her visit with Joey, she crept in as quietly and discreetly as she could. There was one person, and one person only, she wanted to run into right now.

And she had a feeling she knew where he was...

After inching the door closed behind her so as not to make any noise whatsoever, Evie tiptoed toward the library, making sure to stay on the carpet and avoid the creaky floorboards.

A flash of white caught the corner of her eye, most likely the cook’s apron, so Evie dashed behind an open door to hide from view.

“Daniel,” she heard the cook ask the footman by the front door. “Has Miss Evie returned yet? I want her to taste the cake I’m testing out for the wedding.”

Evie held her breath, knowing Daniel had just seen her sneak in. He also had to have seen her scurry behind the door, so it was only a matter of seconds before her cover was blown.

But, to her joyful surprise, Daniel replied with, “No, ma’am, I haven’t seen her.”

As the cook let out a somewhat annoyed sigh, Evie truly had to hold herself back from exclaiming with relief. And also squealing.

As soon as she heard the retreating footsteps of the cook, Evie poked her head out from behind the door. Daniel was watching the cook leave, and once she’d turned the corner, he swung his head around to make eye contact with Evie.

Evie mouthed a ‘thank you’, and Daniel simply nodded with a tiny grin on his lips.

She stepped back out into the hallway, staying on her toes as she hopped quickly to the library.

Without even looking inside to make sure Yongguk really was in there, Evie hurried past the door and hastily shut it behind her. She turned, leaning back against the solid oak and exhaling deeply.

“Evie,” a deep (and very familiar) voice said, startling her just enough to make her jump. “Are you all right?”

Evie hopped to attention, straightening up and searching the room until her eyes landed on her fiance sitting in one of the armchairs.

“Oh!” she breathed. “Yes -- Yes, I am fine, I just -- I was trying to avoid... It doesn’t matter. I was looking for you.”

Yongguk’s forehead wrinkled just slightly, and he set the book currently in his hands down on the side table next to him.

“Well, you have found me,” he murmured as he stood up. “What do you need?”

Before he could make his way over to her, she made her way over to him. He reached his hands out for her, and she slipped her fingers into his palms with a soft grin.

“I just... I do need to talk to you about something, but right now, I am just... happy to see you.”

Evie had been quite anxiety-ridden on her walk back from the village, but one look at Yongguk’s incredibly handsome face had calmed her down instantly. How could she have been so nervous? Even though she’d only known Yongguk for a few months, she knew he would be by her side -- physically and emotionally. Literally and figuratively.

A smile broke out onto his lips, and Evie’s heart jumped into her throat at the sight of it. He had the most wonderful smile she’d ever seen in her entire life.

“I’m happy to see you, too,” he replied as he squeezed her fingers. He then brought one of her hands up to his lips and placed a very soft, delicate kiss on her knuckles. “What have you been up to this afternoon?”

“Ah... yes,” Evie said quietly. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Sort of.”

Yongguk’s brow furrowed again, and he led her over to a nearby loveseat. He didn’t let go of her hands; in fact, he only held them tighter.

“I... Well, you see,” Evie began, perched on the edge of the cushion and avoiding eye contact. “I went to speak with Joey -- Well, first, I spoke with Cassie who told me to also talk to Joey, and that’s where I just came from. Her cottage in the village.”

Yongguk simply nodded.

“I... Please, do not take any offense to this whatsoever. I am just... a bit... nervous about starting our new life together.”

Almost instantly, Yongguk scooted closer to her. “Of course, you are. It’s going to be an incredibly enormous change for you. I would be surprised if you weren’t nervous.”

Even just hearing him say that made her feel a bit better.

“Joey suggested I talk to you, so... here I am,” she said with a meek chuckle.

“Good,” he murmured, keeping his voice low so only she could hear -- even though they were the only ones in the closed-off room. “I would like -- I wish for you to feel comfortable enough to talk to me about... anything. I know you’ll be leaving your family behind, and you’ll only have me -- at least, until you get to know your new ladies’ maid and the other staff and people from the village. I don’t want you to feel... stifled. Or lonely.”

Evie couldn’t help but grin, and she slipped her hands free from his so she could lean into him, sliding her arms around his middle and fitting her head into the crook of his neck.

She heard a deep, quiet chuckle vibrate in his chest, and then she felt the warmth of his arms as he returned her embrace.

“I won’t be lonely,” she assured him with a small shake of her head. “Though... I will bring at least one trunk-load of books with me, just in case.”

Yongguk’s chuckle turned into a more hearty laugh at that, and the sound of it filled Evie’s heart and lungs with pure joy.

“I wouldn’t dream of keeping you away from your books, my love,” he answered. “I will make as much room as you need for them. We can sanction a room to be your own personal library if you’d like.”

Evie gasped, lifting her head to look him in the eye. “Are you quite serious?” Her own personal library?!

Yongguk nodded, brows raised as he gazed her with an extremely serious expression. “Of course.”

And now Evie wondered why she’d ever been nervous in the first place.

She let out a soft squeal of excitement before practically throwing herself at him, pressing her smiling lips to his and kissing him over and over.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she mumbled.

And now Yongguk wondered why he hadn’t brought up the idea of a personal library much, much earlier.

Ever since Evie had closed the front door behind her, the wheels in Joey’s head had been turning.

Not about Evie’s predicament, though. She was incredibly confident her advice was just what her older sister had needed to hear, so she was no longer worried about that.

No, Joey was thinking about the other topic they had discussed.

The orphanage.

Admittedly, Joey had been trying desperately to fill her time with activities around the house, and... it hadn’t been working. When Evie suggested volunteering at the local orphanage, Joey had thought it was a good idea almost immediately.

But, the more she pondered... the more she knew it was an excellent idea.

And, by the time Brian arrived home after the school day ended, Joey practically pounced on him.

“I’ve got extremely exciting news!” she cried, her eyes wide and sparkling vivaciously.

“I do, too!” Brian replied. “I’m home!”

Joey immediately paused, her mouth still open as she had just been about to tell him her exciting news.

She stayed frozen for a few moments before replying to him. “...Well, yes. That is very exciting. I missed you terribly, and I’m glad you’re home.”

Brian beamed with pride as he set his briefcase down and loosened his tie. “I missed you, too, my darling.”

He leaned in for a kiss then, but Joey flung her arms out to stop him. “Wait!” she cried. “I need to tell you my exciting news!”

Brian chuckled softly, still leaning in for his kiss before saying, “All right, let’s hear it. What’s your exciting news?”

Joey didn’t even start leading him into the living room so they could have a nice cup of tea before supper. She couldn’t wait any longer, so she came out with it immediately.

“Evie came to see me, and when she saw I had stooped to embroidery to fill my time -- it’s very well-known I am quite awful with a needle -- she suggested I start volunteering at the orphanage, and I think it’s a wonderful idea, and I’m going to go there tomorrow to see how I can help!”

Brian’s head jerked back in surprise, and a look of slight confusion came across his features. “Volunteer at the orphanage?”

“Yes! Don’t you think it’s perfect? I’m sure they need loads of help, and I’ve got loads of time and loads of energy.”

“Well, that is true.”

“See?! So, I’m going there tomorrow, and I will tell you all about it when you get home.”

A soft smile tugged at Brian’s lips, and he leaned in to place a kiss on Joey’s forehead. “I can’t wait,” he replied.

“Me neither,” Joey agreed with almost a squeal in her voice. “Now. You tell me all about your day.”

The couple spent the rest of the evening in their typical way: discussing the events of the day over dinner, engaging in more conversation over tea and biscuits in the living room, and then talking even more as they readied for bed.

With two people as talkative as they, it’s not a wonder they spent nearly all their time together in conversation.

Joey was the first to awake the next morning, and quite surprisingly, she got out of bed and began to get ready almost immediately. As active a person as she was, Joey was rather lazy -- but only in the mornings. She tended to stay in bed until she knew the cook would absolutely get cross with her for leaving breakfast out too long.

But this morning, she was too excited for her first day of volunteering.

Brian, of course, remarked upon it and began teasing her as soon as he arose -- though, Joey wouldn’t have expected anything less. His provoking nature had been what attracted her to him in the first place, after all.

They followed their typical morning routine of eating breakfast together, and Joey saw Brian off with a kiss at the front door, as she usually did.

But then, when she could no longer see him from the stoop, she went inside and retrieved her coat. She slid it on, letting out a somewhat shaky, anxious breath... and then she left.

The orphanage wasn’t extremely far; close enough to walk, though not quite close enough to be able to walk when it was raining. Thankfully, the sun was already low in the sky, shining warmly.

She greeted her fellow villagers as she passed them in the street, smiling and inquiring after their families. It hadn’t taken her too long to realize she actually preferred living in the village rather than back at the manor, away from the hustle and bustle of country town life.

Or maybe she simply preferred being married and living with Brian than she did living with her family.

Either way, the sense of contentment and happiness Joey felt these days was immense.

When she arrived at the orphanage not twenty minutes later, Joey let out another nervous exhale before reaching up and twisting the large, brass doorknob.

The nun sitting in the front office rose immediately, her eyebrows raising in surprise. “My lady,” she greeted. And then she stopped abruptly, obviously remembering her manners and dipping into a low curtsy.

“Oh, please, just Joey is fine,” Joey told her with a chuckle. “Or Josephine, if you prefer. I married a valet who is now a teacher, I hardly think the ‘Lady’ is applicable.”

And that is exactly how she liked it.

The nun stood up straight, a meek smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Josephine,” she amended, though it sounded like it took a great deal of effort to do so. “What can I help you with?”

“First of all,” Joey began. “What is your name?”

“Oh! I am Sister Agnes, my la -- Josephine.”

“Sister Agnes! It is a pleasure to meet you. Now, I do not need any help from you -- I would like to know if you need any help from me. I would like to volunteer my time!”

Sister Agnes’ eyes widened. “Y--you would like to... v--volunteer? Here?” she stammered.

“Yes, indeed! Please, give me first my task. I am quite eager to do whatever needs doing.”

Sister Agnes explained she would fetch Sister Daphne, the head nun of the orphanage, so to speak. Sister Agnes dealt more with the administration side and, so, did not feel she had the authority to assign Joey to any sort of job.

When Sister Daphne appeared a few minutes later, she took Joey back into the orphanage, giving her a tour and explaining their daily schedule.

The tour ended in the girls’ bedroom, a large room on the second floor with more than several beds lining the walls. Sister Daphne explained there was not enough time and not enough hands to help the girls thoroughly groom themselves, so Joey’s first task would be helping some of the girls brush their hair and teaching them how to brush their teeth and wash their hands.

Joey nodded, a beaming smile curving on her lips because that sounded incredibly easy! She’d been watching her ladies’ maid brush her hair all her life, and she certainly brushed her teeth and washed her hands every day.

As soon as Sister Daphne left the room, about five of the girls came rushing up to Joey’s side, clinging to her skirts and all asking her questions at the same time.

...Oh, dear. What had she gotten herself into?

Brian was incredibly surprised to open the front door to an empty entryway. He had been expecting a greeting much like yesterday’s: Joey standing there waiting for him, blurting out excitedly before he even had a chance to close the door behind him.

But she wasn’t there.

“Joey?” he called out as he set his briefcase down by the small coat closet.

“I... I’m in the living room!” her slightly hesitant voice replied from down the hallway. “Come in and have some tea, my love.”

Brian furrowed his brow as he headed toward the living room, growing increasingly worried at Joey’s behavior. She was very rarely hesitant, and she told him often how greeting him at the door was one of the best parts of her day.

What exactly was going on?

As soon as he arrived in the doorway, Joey turned in her chair to face him, a soft grin on her lips.

“Welcome home,” she said gently.

...A soft grin? Gently?

Was Joey... all right?

“Thanks...” Brian replied cautiously. He stepped inside the room and slid into the chair next to her. He watched her carefully as she poured him a cup of tea, murmuring his thanks when she handed it to him.

“How was your day?” she asked with slightly raised eyebrows.

“It was fine,” he answered. “What about yours? How was the orphanage?”

He was incredibly confused as to why she hadn’t immediately told him all about it when he’d opened the front door.

“Oh, it was lovely,” Joey told him. “I met Sister Agnes and Sister Daphne, I got a tour of the place, I helped some of the girls learn how to properly wash their hands and brush their teeth. I even got to brush their hair for them. They were quite delightful.”

Brian opened his mouth to ask her if things had really been lovely because -- well, why wasn’t she gushing and being overly dramatic about everything? This certainly wasn’t the Joey he knew.

But then she let out a frustrated huff and set down her teacup.

“Oh, all right!” she exclaimed. “I can’t keep it in any longer!”

Aha. Here we go!

“I formed a bond with one of the girls, in particular -- Daisy. She’s six-years-old, and her parents both died of influenza two years ago, and she has the most beautiful ginger hair -- but that’s not exactly the point, I just spent a lot of time getting all of the knots out, and it was enormously pretty once I did. But, anyway! There’s just something about her -- something in her eyes, maybe. I don’t know! But I know every time I look at her, my heart aches and the pit in the bottom of my stomach gets larger, and I truly almost cried when I left today, and I think we should adopt her.”

Thankfully, Brian had not been drinking his tea when she’d said this. If he had, he surely would have choked. He was holding his teacup, though, so he set it down as quickly and carefully as possible.

“Excuse me?” he chuckled. “You think we should -- what?”

“I know you’ll feel the same as soon as you meet her, Brian,” Joey assured him passionately, reaching her hands out and grasping his fingers. “And I know it sounds ridiculous, but that’s what we are! We’re ridiculous! We hated each other, and then we decided to run away and get married in the span of about ten minutes! But we work! And Daisy -- I can just feel it. She belongs to us. She needs to belong to us.”

Brian still couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. Joey, after spending literally one day volunteering at the orphanage, wanted to adopt a six-year-old girl?!

Joey obviously interpreted the confusion and shock on his face because she kept on talking, not allowing him a chance to say anything.

“She reminds me so much of myself when I was that age. She talks a mile a minute -- sometimes she even gets so off-topic she forgot how her sentence started, so she backtracks but then gets off-topic again. She adores running around outside, she speaks before she thinks, she’s impulsive --”

“All right,” Brian interrupted, snapping his head to look Joey in the eye.

“Wh-- really?!” Joey breathed. “All right?! All right as in ‘yes’?!”

Brian gazed into his wife’s eyes for a few moments before a smile tugged at one corner of his lips. And then he nodded.

“Yes.”

Joey launched herself at him, landing in his lap and throwing her arms around his neck. “Oh, Brian, you are simply the best -- do you know how much I love you?!”

“Yes,” he chuckled as she peppered his face with kisses.

“I thought I would have to spend days convincing you!” she giggled after kissing his nose but before kissing his eyelid.

“All you had to do was say she reminded you of yourself,” he told her, his voice quiet and filled with adoration.

Joey stopped kissing him, pulling back slightly to look at him.

“That’s all I needed to know. If she’s anything at all like you, then you’re right. She belongs with us. We’ll go there tomorrow -- together.”

Joey’s eyes became glossy, filling with tears of joy before she leaned back in and kissed him. She kissed him softly but urgently, whispering against his lips how very dearly, truly, and deeply she loved him.

Brian felt exactly the same way, of course, and that’s why he trusted her. He trusted her implicitly and unconditionally. Even if she hadn’t said little Daisy reminded her of herself, he would’ve agreed to it. Because if Joey said the little girl belonged with them, then it was true.

And, in the back of his head, he knew he had to make the most of tonight. Because tonight was the last night ever -- the last night for the rest of their lives that they would be a family of two.

“Did you hear about Brian and Lady Josephine?” Lydia asked as soon as she stepped in the garage.

Seo Joon looked up, ceasing his arm momentarily. He was currently cleaning and waxing the car, preparing it for Evie’s transport to the church in a few hours.

“What about them?” he asked.

Lydia hurried over to him, and before she continued, she rose onto her toes and greeted him with a kiss.

“I can’t stay very long,” she whispered. “I’ve got to help Lady Evie get ready. But I’ve only just heard the news, and I wanted to tell you before anyone else did.”

“What news? What’s going on?”

Lydia smirked, and Seo Joon’s heart skipped a beat at how breathtakingly attractive she was.

“Well, Lady Josephine started volunteering at the orphanage a couple of days ago, upon Lady Evie’s suggestion... and now she and Brian have adopted a child!”

Seo Joon’s eyes widened immediately. “What?!”

“A six-year-old girl named Daisy!” Lydia giggled, nodding vigorously. “Can you believe it?!”

Seo Joon was about to answer that no, he could not believe it...

But he stopped himself.

Because this was Lady Josephine they were talking about.

“Actually... I can,” he said.

Lydia simply giggled again before saying, “I know, me too.”

A smile curved Seo Joon’s lips, and he leaned down to kiss her again. Just because.

“I must go back to Lady Evie,” she whispered. “And you must get the car looking absolutely gleaming for when you drive her to the church.”

“That I do,” Seo Joon murmured. But he kissed her once more for good measure before she scurried out of the garage and back into the house.

Evie was up in her bedroom waiting for Lydia, after all, her wedding dress hanging up and all of her jewel-encrusted pins laid out on her vanity. She was waiting to be transformed into a bride.

Part 3

46 notes · View notes

pokeprism · 3 years ago

Text

Pokemon Found Family: Chapter 4 (Before The Storm)

This is the fourth chapter of Pokemon Found Family, my pokemon fanfic!

I’m always up for questions!

First --- Previous --- Next

Jane has just gotten to sleep after two hours of tossing and turning in her bed. She has not been sleeping well for the past two days on account of seeing Hill Stoutland. To get her mind off of things, she had thought of her best friend and their times together. Soon into her slumber, she’s reliving a memory from her preteen years.

It’s about sundown as she’s looking at the sky from her room’s balcony, and she remembers it’s one of those nights. Her biweekly escape from the palace had become normal enough that she was planning these meetings weeks before in conjunction with her best and only friend, Jirachi. The palace itself was cold, hard, and painful for Jane on account of her parents' abuse. But where she was going, no one could harm her, for she was primed for a night with Jirachi, who could do no wrong and had only joy to offer. Jane’s ears twitch at the sound of her parents’ door closing for the night. That’s her cue to slip away, she remembers. With cat-like reflexes, she jumps onto the guard rail of the balcony, then looks down to scan for anyone near her landing location, and no one is there. Unknown to anyone at the Furton Palace besides herself, the deep pool in the gardens below Jane’s balcony was the perfect location to escape the palace from, due to the depth and the only risk being someone hearing the splash, which hadn’t happened yet. Jane winds up for a leap, then gracefully bounds off the balcony’s guardrail without making a sound. It’s a quick three second fall before Jane hits the water, and after getting out of the pool and shaking herself dry, she runs out of the palace’s courtyard toward Jirachi’s abode, the peak of Steorra Mountain. Some walking later, Jane has made it to the foot of Jirachi’s stone shrine. Jane clears her throat, then recites the wish melody from memory. Jane had remembered the melody well, for it was the only way to wake her friend and gain access to Jirachi’s home that lay beneath the shrine. Once the melody comes to an end, the entrance to her friend’s home flips open, and Jane gently hops into the entrance. Jane touches down in Jirachi’s home, and in their usual freshly awoken tone, Jirachi speaks as they psychically close the hatch to their home.

Jirachi yawns before saying “Hi there Jane! How are you doing tonight?”

Jane had almost forgotten the sound of her voice at that age. “I’m doing great, Snooze! Do you remember our plan for tonight?”

“Hmm? Which plan?” Jirachi says.

Past Jane laughs for a moment. “Snooze! You’re so forgetful! We were going to go to the bakery and wish for a round of poffins tonight, right?”

“Oh, yeah. We can do that in a bit, but…”

“What’s the but about?”

“Jane, can I talk to you for a moment?”

With that utterance, Jane remembers this talk. Past Jane nods to Jirachi.

Jirachi begins to tremble. “I’m scared, Jane.”

Past Jane tilts their head. “About what?”

“I’m scared for you. Of what your parents would do if they found out.”

“About what? The part where I leave every other week or about you?”

“Both. If they find that you’ve been leaving the palace, that’s one reason to hurt you. If they find that you’ve been seeing another pokemon, that’s two. But if that’s not enough, if they find that pokemon is me, everyone is in trouble.”

Past Jane’s ears droop. “W-Why’s that Snooze?”

“Jane, I know you know me as your quirky, drowsy, and semi-forgetful best friend but… I’m the mythical wish pokemon. If some bad seed caught and compelled me to use my power, they could potentially end the world.”

The words echo through Jane’s mind. Past Jane is struck with emotion, but manages to keep it under wraps while saying “Jirachi, as long as we’re together, I WILL keep you safe.”

Jirachi, for their part, starts to laugh as their tears begin to flow. “Ha ha… I guess I really am a crybaby… Oh well.”

Jirachi drifts close to Jane, and they share a close embrace. Jane’s vision of the memory begins to fade to black as her emotions attached to that memory come rushing back. Suddenly, a shout breaks the quiet.

“Jane! Are you okay?”

Jane suddenly snaps awake. She sees Geist standing in front of her with a concerned expression on his face. As Jane gets up, she feels tears run down her face. Geist crouches down to her level and wipes the waterworks from her cheeks as he gets a determined look on his face.

“Jane, did you have a bad dream?” Geist asks.

“No, just reliving a memory of mine.”

“I thought you were asleep, but then I heard you crying at a decent volume. Was it… A bad memory?”

Jane shakes her head. “No no, it was a good memory. I guess I started being a crybaby about it…”

Geist puts a hand to his face. “Jane, do I need to tell you that expressing your emotions isn’t a bad thing?”

“You don’t.” Jane plainly says.

“Okay then. I’m assuming that you’d rather not talk about that memory then?”

“I’m not against it.”

Geist’s mind fumbles for a moment before saying “If it’s heavy on emotional baggage, don’t feel obligated to tell me, alright?”

Jane nods in response. “Uh huh.”

“In other news, I was wondering if you’d like to curate the temple with me today. Are you feeling up to that?” Geist asks.

Jane’s whole body perks up. “Oh! Sure Geist!”

Geist’s trademark smile returns. “Alrighty then. Should I carry you?”

Jane nods at the request.

Geist picks up Jane in his arms, then walks out of his home’s entrance. Once on the cliffside walkway, Geist tightens his grip on Jane as he winds for a jump, and within a moment, Geist bounds off the walkway and jets toward the ground. Upon landing without issue at the bottom, Geist releases Jane from his grip, and after Jane safely lands on the floor, they begin walking to Cyrus’s Temple.

Jane and Geist are at the bottom of the walkway to the temple after the short trek from the other side of the valley. Geist walks up the steps to the temple’s front entrance with Jane close behind him. Despite Cyrus’s temple being the first structure she saw in the valley, she had not gotten a satisfactory look at it before this point on account of being in critical condition at the time of her arrival. As a result of this, Jane begins looking at the monument’s details, the carvings on the walls, ceiling, and floor.

Geist, curious, asks “Hey, do you know much about the valley’s champion, Jane?”

Jane looks up to Geist. “Not much at all really.”

“Well, what DO you know?”

“I think I met Cyrus in a dream. He didn’t tell me much, but I haven’t talked with him since.”

Geist, thanks to his ghostly nature, feels the presence of Cyrus’s spirit behind him. Ignoring his discomfort, he says “Ha ha, that’s…”

Jane’s head tilts with a hint of confusion.

Geist forces his words. “That’s actually really odd for non curators.”

Jane quickly blinks twice. “Oh? Why is that?”

“Well, I don’t understand the exact mechanics, but I do know that a sort of link forms between curator and champion once the valley’s curator is selected, and-”

Jane looks up past Geist’s eyes. Geist’s body tingles with fear as he slowly turns around. Cyrus’s ghostly outline materializes as he loudly clears his throat.

“Ahem, good afternoon, Geist. You as well, Jane.” Cyrus says.

Geist’s smile quivers. “Heh heh, nice to see you again! It’s… Been a while. And I’ve got questions.”

Jane tilts her head. “I guess I would say the same.”

Cyrus turns to Geist. “Alright, go ahead with the questions then.”

Geist speaks first. “So, why did you contact Jane?”

Jane’s ears perk up as her confused expression says all that it can.

Cyrus notices Jane’s non verbal message first. “Ah. Jane, is it fine if I share the identity of your best friend?”

Geist raises an eyebrow as Jane turns in the gengar’s direction. Jane’s tail twitches as she looks back to Cyrus. “Sure, go ahead. I trust Geist.”

Cyrus nods. “Alright then.” Cyrus shifts his gaze to Geist. “Anyways, Jane made a friend in Jirachi, and her aura clued me into that.”

Geist’s eyes widen. “Oh! So you thought she had a mission then, huh?”

“Indeed. But then morning approached, and you two had registration to do.”

Geist and Jane nervously grin at the memory of that day.

Cyrus then makes eye contact with Jane, and breaks the silence by adding “In other regards, I’ve updated Jirachi on the status of Hill’s gathered data on you.”

Jane’s gaze snaps to Cyrus, and surprise shows in her voice. “Wait, you can do that?! Have they messaged you back…?”

“So far, Jirachi has relayed their concerns to me, but is confident that you will escape safely.”

Geist looks toward Cyrus. “Wait a hot minute, escape? Why would Jane want to escape here?” Geist asks.

Cyrus raises an eyebrow as he turns to Geist. Upon seeing Geist’s face, Cyrus realizes his mistake. “Well… Jane will be in an unfortunate position if she stays here with you.”

Geist’s eyes narrow, and Geist puts on a no-nonsense expression. “What do you mean, Cyrus?”

Geist is gazing into Cyrus’s very soul with his current gaze. Cyrus’s expression droops as he breathes a sigh of regret.

“I mean that Jane will be in danger tomorrow. Hill’s elite knights will be here, and they wish to capture her by any means necessary.”

Jane looks down, with her whole system paralyzed with conflicting emotions. The sun begins to set, and Cyrus’s ghostly form becomes more visible. Geist, much like Jane, has his emotions warring in his mind as he looks away. Geist’s gaze snaps back to Cyrus as the pyroar finds his place to speak.

“Geist, I sense that you would rather not leave on account of your trauma, but then... That would be against your desire to protect Jane, would it not?”

Geist’s eyes narrow once more. “Why do you bring THAT up, Cyrus? That sounds pretty bad form to me.”

Jane gets a determined glimmer in her eye. She dutifully steps forward as she says “If he’s talked with Jirachi at all, Cyrus knows I’m not without trauma.”

Geist eyes widen in response. Geist looks to Cyrus with a raised eyebrow. Cyrus knowingly nods.

Jane continues with “The reason I’m here is because Jirachi granted my wish of wanting to escape. So they obliged. But now with Hill’s knights coming for me, I don’t know if I can stay here…”

A brief silence returns.

Cyrus’s head droops as he looks away. “I have made you both conflicted, have I not?”

“Cyrus, don’t be daft. You’ve done your best to inform us.” Jane says.

Cyrus sighs just before his response. “Fair enough…”

Geist gets a determined look on his face. “I want to go with Jane. Is there anyone else we can warn?”

Cyrus stands on all fours. “Well, I would suggest telling Moshe. Is he awake at this hour?”

“I mean, probably.” Geist turns to Jane. “Let’s get to it, Jane!”

Jane nods, then turns to Cyrus. “I believe this is goodbye, correct?”

Cyrus nods. “I would think so, Miss Jane.”

Geist begins to leave the temple, but then stops as Cyrus speaks again. Jane tunes in out of habit.

“Due to my state of being, I only know what is happening, rather than what will happen. All I know is that Jirachi wishes you both well. Safe travels, you both.”

Jane and Geist practically nod in unison. Geist waves farewell to Cyrus before turning back toward the front entrance of the temple. They both then shuffle out of Cyrus’s temple with sights set on Moshe’s home, their goal crystal clear.

#Jamie W. (Pokeprism)#pokemon found family #Chapter 4 #pokemon #pokemon fic #before the storm #5/6/2021

1 note · View note

one-leaf-grimoire · 4 years ago

Text

“triad”

Chapter 4: the three votes

AKA the main character manipulates men into doing what she wants.

Link to the full Ao3 work

Three votes.

Three votes, that's all I need.

Yes, the threshold I need to win is actually five votes. But once two of those votes swing my way, the others will follow. Well, maybe I just need two votes now. The one that was withheld last round and one from the pair of rivals.

Fuegoleon and Nozel... to gain both of their votes, I just need to convince one.

My grandparents once told me that the foundation of every Dyad is a strong relationship. It can be that between a husband and wife; lovers; maybe two best friends. But the most interesting yet volatile Dyads came from those formed from two rivals. Admittedly, it's been a long time since I had a true rival. Back when I was a kid, I mentally competed with Horatio. He was strong and powerful, at least for a commoner, and I wanted nothing more than to beat him. But that seems like a lifetime ago. Several lifetimes. I hardly recognize the girl I was back then, as if she's a stranger or just someone I made up in my own head.

The point is... the rivalry between Fuegoleon and Nozel is something I've never fully understood. They push each other to get better in the hopes of one day beating the other to the throne, but the understanding between them was that, at the very least, one of them was worthy of it. And no one else.

Not even me.

So...

In order to defeat them, I have to destroy it. Their rivalry. I'll crush it with everything I can muster. I'm sorry... but I can't let you stand in my way.

I walk for a long time, formulating my plan, until I make my decision. First, I'll go to Fuegoleon. Then, to Nozel. And finally... to William.

William...

My plan to get his vote is not solid. It relies completely on my ability to pull at the well of shame and guilt I know is building inside him.

... I'm sorry.

"Hey, Fuego~"

I find Fuegoleon leaning on the edge of a window, staring down at the city below. He turns quickly at the sound of my voice, and his eyes widen slightly as I approach. However, he can't help the small smile that etches itself on his lips. "Oh... hello." He straightens up, letting go of the edge. "If nothing else, you're surprising us all today."

"What? That sounds like an insult," I tease, walking up next to him and looking out as well. The city is busy with repairs, people moving around the streets like little ants. It's a view I'm used to, one I've known for almost 7 years now. "And surprises are good, right?"

Fuegoleon shrugs, his gaze following mine down to the city. "I suppose..."

We sit there for a long time in silence, just staring out at the Kingdom that one of us will rule by the end of today.

"...Fuegoleon?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you remember... that time you got turned into a frog?"

Fuegoleon's jaw drops and he makes a surprised noise. It comes out in a choked CROAK, and I can't help but burst out laughing at it. "Wow, I guess old habits die hard!"

"What?! Ah- AHEM!" Fuegoleon blushes as he clears his throat, but the sound of my laugh ensures that his smile stays on his face. "Yes, yes, I remember... although I'd like to forget." He lets out a soft chuckle. "That was so long ago..."

"Yeah, it really was." I shake my head a bit at the memory. "Back before you were captain and I was an advisor. Back when..."

I don't really know what I want to say. Back when things were simple? Before I was disgraced? Back when Julius was alive?

Back when Julius was alive... that wasn't even a week ago.

"I know today has been a big surprise. I know you never expected me to throw my hat into the ring. I guess I'm sorry about that..." I sigh, closing my eyes, the fleeting joy of the last few moments already ebbing away.

Fuegoleon draws in a heavy breath. He's tired, I can feel it, every bone in his body aching and his mind reeling to just stay awake. He woke up from a coma just a few days ago, after all, and has been on his feet ever since. It must have been scary and confusing to wake up in the midst of such a ferocious battle, but he got everything under control at his base and went on to fight inside the shadow palace. At his core, Fuegoleon is a leader, someone strong who can be looked up to and followed without question. I was proud to call him my comrade and captain.

I know in my heart that he would be a great Wizard King. Maybe it's selfish to take it away from him. But I have to.

I promised.

"Don't apologize. I can't pretend I'm not surprised... and a little confused." Fuegoleon glances over at me out of the corner of his eye. "You really haven't been planning this for a while?"

"No, not at all! Do I seem prepared?" I shoot him a little grin to keep things light. "But what is it you're confused about? I thought I made a pretty good case for myself-"

"You did, you did!" Fuegoleon, to my surprise, cuts me off. I look up to see him facing me, smiling despite the challenge I've created for him. "It was a very good case, too."

I raise an eyebrow. "Oh? You don't sound like someone that determined to become Wizard King."

Fuegoleon snorts. "No, no, I am... But just because I'm determined, doesn't mean I can't recognize those with worth of your own." I blink, a little confused, as he closes his eyes and smiles. "I think... you would make a fine Wizard King."

He lets the statement hang in the air for a moment before opening his eyes again, his expression turning grim again.

"But, the case you made today... those were just reasons why we should want you to be Wizard King. What I really want to know..."

He narrows his eyes.

"Why do you want to be Wizard King?"

...

I made a promise. I want to continue Julius's legacy. I deserve it. I've worked harder than anyone else. Spite. I want to be the first commoner to do it.

I want to be Wizard King... because I WANT to be Wizard King.

About thirty different reasons flash through my mind at once, blurring and blending into each other all at once. It takes me by surprise, the sudden animosity that wells up in response to the question, like a flame being fed by air... before suddenly sputtering out into nothing.

"...I..."

I feel Fuegoleon's hand on my shoulder, squeezing for a moment. "I meant what I said. I think you would be amazing. You're strong, confident, and people follow you. You're probably more powerful than any of us. And you carry Julius's soul in your own. But..." He lets go. "I don't want you to do this because you think you're expected to. That's too much pressure to bear."

Fuegoleon turns away, starting to walk off down the hallway to leave me alone again.

... I can't give up...

I ball up my fist, and my prior conversation with Marx and Yami.

"I don't think you should keep acting like nothing happened. It has to hurt... right?"

"... too much to bear?"

He pauses at the sound of my voice, which is wavering dangerously on the edge of a void. Slowly, he turns around to still see me staring out the window. My eyes feel hot and wet, but I don't let even a single drop of emotion escape. Sucking in a shaky breath, I finally look up at him, and I see his facade drop.

Look at me... see me. See what I want you to see.

"Do you have any idea... how much pain I'm in right now?"

Fuegoleon's eyes widen, his mouth opening as he realizes what he's done.

He made me cry. Me, the girl who never cries, is letting my eyes tear up in front of him. It's a vulnerability I don't dare show to people, except for those closest to me. Marx, my father, and Julius... I can count the number of people who've seen me cry on one hand. And now, Fuegoleon thinks that he's added himself to that list.

"I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean to-"

He steps forward, his non-fire hand reaching out to comfort me, put I pull away before he can touch me. I cover my face, drawing in one long, shallow breath.

"It hurts, Fuegoleon... It's the worst I've ever felt in my life. Everything I ever wanted is gone. Julius..." I gulp thickly, squeezing my eyes shut. "He's gone!"

With each word I speak, I fly closer and closer to the sun. If I fly too far, I'll burn up and fall back down into that dark, deep emptiness.

That emptiness... it engulfs this whole world. It is the world without him.

Don't think about it. Don't think about it. Just speak.

"I'm sorry..." Fuegoleon has no idea what to do, and he's panicking just like I predicted. He steps to my side, then to the other once I turn away again and again, avoiding his gaze. "I-I didn't mean to upset you-"

"It's not you! Don't you get it!" Finally, I let my voice raise, just a little, which silences him again. I let my hands drop to my sides as I look back up at his horrified face. The tears streak down my cheeks now. "I can't make you understand. You and your rivalry... you wouldn't, would you? You don't know what it's like to lose."

Fuegoleon opens his mouth, but he can't possibly have a good response to that. I sniff deliberately, reaching up and starting to wipe off my face.

"I loved him with everything I had... and now I have to replace him, or this void..."

One of my hands clutches my chest, right over my heart.

Yes, it does hurt... but I can't think about it.

I close my eyes for a long moment, and when I open them, they're empty.

"The only think I can replace him with is the Kingdom. I want to be Wizard King, because I want to love something like that again."

The hand outreached to me finally falls, and forms a fist by Fuegoleon's side.

He's making his decision.

The first tightens.

Fuegoleon...

And finally, he lets it relax. His shoulders slump.

He's been defeated. A few tears, a crying friend... and a sincere statement. That's all it took.

You revealed your own weakness. You let yourself consider another option, other than yourself and Nozel. You considered me. And once I came up with my reason...

You can't refuse this last request from a friend, can you?

I'm sorry.

"...I see."

Fuegoleon's voice is soft.

"I... I'll see you back in the conference room. Let me know if you need anything."

"...thank you."

I keep staring at the ground until his footsteps fade out of earshot, and then finally look up at the empty hallway. I reach up and wipe away the lingering moisture, wondering how much of it was real.

Wow... I really am the worst, aren't I?

For a brief moment, I started to fall. The emptiness threatened to consume me. I know it's inevitable at this point, and before long I'll have to get it out of my system, but I don't have that luxury right now. I just have to tough it out until this day is over.

On that subject, there's just one more person to see, now that I basically have Fuegoleon wrapped around my finger. With that one conversation, I'm certain that I've secured two votes. Fuegoleon votes first, and once Nozel sees that his rival has given up...

It's mine. But not yet.

William.

I find him standing by himself outside the conference room. He looks up once he hears my footsteps, giving me a little smile. "...hello."

"Hey." I give him a smile before leaning on the wall next to him. "Are you waiting for everyone to come back?"

"Yeah." He nods slowly, his gaze meeting mine for just a moment before dropping to the ground. Ah. This is going to be hard. It's no secret that, despite what I told him on the night of the attack, William is drowning in guilt. He almost single-handedly destroyed the kingdom, but against me, personally... he committed a crime he'll never forgive himself for.

It's that guilt that I'm betting on now.

"I guess I have the easiest decision... I'm abstaining again." William's eyes close, their lavender shades hidden from my view.

His eyes...

Julius had eyes just like that, too.

"I don't want you to feel like this is a vote against you, though," William turns to me, suddenly very concerned about this point, almost frantic. "I mean- I just feel like-" He starts to stumble. "I think you would be great-" Gee, like I haven't heard that before! "-I just..."

For a brief moment, William looks like he's about to cry.

"I think I gave up my right to vote... when I let Patri kill Julius."

He winces at the sound of his own words, but they bounce right off my skin.

Oh... oh William...

Just like Fuegoleon, William has revealed his weakness.

"That's not true."

With every ounce of strength I have, I extinguish anything warm I feel towards this man.

He just made a mistake. Don't do it, please... It wasn't his fault.

It's just for a moment... but the light extinguishes.

"William..."

His eyes meet mine. There's a flash of fear as he beholds the cold emptiness within them.

"You gave up your right to be silent when you let Patri kill Julius."

Confusion mixes with the fear. "...huh-"

"William. I told you before-" I hold up my hand and point at him accusingly.

"If you want me to forgive you, you'll need to help me. And right now..."

Despite the bitter regret that taints each word I say to my old friend, I smile.

"I need your vote. So... vote for me."

Vote for me.

I say it like I normally would, as if I was just asking a favor of a good friend. Which, in the end, that's all I'm doing. But there's a weight stringed against my words, a weight that drags behind both William and I. If he knows what's going on here, he can't do anything to resist. Because, I have the one thing he wants most: my forgiveness. He doesn't know that I've already given it to him. I'm not stupid- I know that there were otherworldly forces at work, beyond even Patri's command. Patri's hands held the sword, but the Devil was the one who struck down Julius in the end. However...

It doesn't matter if I've already forgiven William; He has no idea if I have. So I'll withhold it until he does what I want.

"I'm going inside... see you soon, William."

His lavender eyes follow me silently as I walk away, the door slamming closed behind me.

And now... it's time to see if my bet pays off.

The final vote occurs and MC/Lisa finds herself at the center of a trial once again... but this time, she has something to say. Next time, chapter 5: the payoff.

#triad #fic #oc: lisa #this was kind of hard to write #when your goal outweighs your friendships aha

4 notes · View notes

dulcidyne · 5 years ago

Text

Experiments in Diplomacy: Compiling [8/?]

There’s nothing in the Interspecies Diplomacy subsection of the Initiative handbook that covers sharing a tech lab with an angara who can kill her in her sleep. She knows, she’s read every page. Twice. (A collection of in-between vignettes from the Tempest tech lab)

//Jaal x Ryder // Humor. Romance. SFW // Previous chapters: [1][2][3][4][5][6][7] or read on Ao3

Somewhere along the way to age seven, in Citadel docking bay 223, Se-ah Ryder decides crying, hugs, tantrums, and other public displays of emotion are things she has outgrown. Perfunctory, precise, she shuts them away as if embarrassing emotional habits can be sealed into donation boxes for young needy children in the Lower Wards like her half-melted asari dolls.

Donated or lost, the box she puts them in stays shut. She doesn’t cry when they pay their respects to her grandmother’s urn at the columbarium. Or, much later, in another docking bay, when Scott waves goodbye as he ships off for Arcturus. She doesn’t cry the first time Iraenya plays down their relationship to her colleagues, embarrassed and ashamed. And when her mother dies, she takes a page out of her father’s book and finds a hospital supply closet and stifles her tears into her shirt collar.

It stays shut, that is, until now. Until twenty-eight uninterrupted minutes of sobbing into Jaal’s chest, followed by forty-one additional minutes of sporadic weeping interspersed with flailing grasps at composure. So, obviously, there is only one logical conclusion to make.

“Just run them again,” Se-ah hisses.

“Once again, Ryder, my scans do not detect any pathologic neurological patterns outside of baseline variation.”

She woke up to the dim ambient glow of the powered-down machine displays running through their background system scans, half-reclining in Jaal’s arms, in his cot, having cried herself to sleep in his embrace like an infant--that alone is an abnormality. She doesn’t understand why SAM is having difficulty with the concept.

“Outside of baseline,” she pauses, the gnarled tangle that is her hair fluttering as Jaal’s snores gust over her head. It tickles her temples but she doesn’t want to dislodge the warm arm banding around her shoulders to brush it back. “Wait, SAM, does that mean you normally detect pathologic patterns?” “It exceeds my functional parameters to parse this data into a clinical diagnosis. It would be unethical to make an attempt. Dr. T’Perro would undoubtedly provide better insight.”

Maggie’s lights pulse unhurried staccato patterns from the corner. Se-ah stiffens in Jaal’s loose embrace, indignant. “ Unethical. You’re an AI integrated into my entire body. Little late to be worried about ethics isn’t it?”

“A relevant point. I additionally lack subjective expertise. My data collection is limited to two genetically similar individuals. It is therefore relatively impossible for me to extrapolate what is normal and abnormal outside of overt structural dysfunction.”

“Further,” SAM says, “I am not an inert observer. It cannot definitively quantify what impact my integration and ongoing observation and interaction has had on your baseline neurological state.”

Disquieting. Se-ah stills and attempts to parse this new revelation while Jaal’s chest rumbles against her ear like the purr of a massive but very contented kitten. It’s nice. She wishes she were still half asleep and allowed to enjoy it and not awake and mortified over her predicament. Mortified and now, thanks to SAM, horrified.

“So not only can you not tell me if my brain is broken, you’re also saying that just by being in my head, you’re changing how it works and doing so in a way that you lack the ability to detect? Like some kind of quantum observer effect?”

SAM doles out a calculated pause for her benefit. All his pauses are for her benefit as he processes information in nanoseconds, but this one feels especially so. A pity pause. Bad news pause.

“Correct.”

“Great,” she mutters, “I’m Schroedinger’s basketcase.”

“My scans do detect significant decreases to harmful neurological metabolites and reduced cortisol levels...likely the product of sufficient rest.”

So that’s what it is. No creaking limbs, phantom aches or raw fatigue scraping the inside of her eyelids raw. A loose, shivery sensation clings like mist in her chest. It feels like a lungful of the air on Mr. Orleal, saturated in starlight and the ozone tingle of the eezo deposits under the lake.

Melatonin has nothing on Jaal. Lexi would be thrilled. Happiness flutters against her ribs. She hides her smile against the vast sloping ridge of Jaal’s alien chest even though there’s no one else there to see how foolish it looks. A familiar scent tickles her nose and she sniffles back a sneeze. He smells warm and herbal, like grapefruit orchards and Earth sunsets--carnelian, blush,and gold-- if Earth sunsets prickled in her sinuses like wasabi.

As far as smiles go, this one caught on the precipice of a sneeze, feels the stupidest.

“Pathfinder, if you have a moment, I would like to discuss some of the data I obtained earlier…”

The tentative flutter of joy in her chest curls inwards on itself, recoiling. She screws up her face, tipping her head back over Jaal’s arm, his r ofjinn bunching up against the tiny hairs at the nape of her neck.

“SAM, I don’t want to waste all this beautiful mental clarity on parsing out my emotional breakdown.”

It’s not fair and she regrets saying it. He provides more than his share of explanations for her and this is supposed to be a reciprocal relationship after all.

“That classification is interesting, Pathfinder. Noradrenaline phasic signalling was decreased, indicating the absence of a stress response. You rate the subjective experience, however, as a negative one?”

Half the words don’t even sound familiar. Despite being the daughter of a neuroscientist, she picked up precious little on the subject. Latching on to what she understands, she attempts an answer.

“No. Not negative. The opposite, I guess?”

“I see.”

She absurdly pictures SAM fitting the L of his imaginary thumb and pointer finger to his imaginary chin in a gesture of academic interest. Her father used to do that, unwittingly providing Scott with ample ammo for his ‘Alec Ryder, mad scientist’ impressions.

“This supports my observations of the intense activity within the mesolimbic circuit--”

Se-ah winces. “You know, it’s pretty weird to hear all the gory details.”

“I do not comprehend the discomfort.” SAM states, an echo of her father’s scientific fascination faint in the synthetic voice modulation. Her own imagination, she’s sure. “Your emotions are best described as the limited interpretation of this signalling process.”

For some indefinable reason, she bristles.

“Maybe technically, but...it was this amazing, overwhelming experience and it didn’t feel limited . It felt...immense. Bigger than anything. Like I couldn’t possibly keep it in without bursting and then I did burst and apparently that looks like a lot of crying.”

Ugly crying. There was a not-small-amount of snot involved.

“It’s more than mesolimbic circuits,” she persists, words coming faster and her voice tightening, “Sometimes things are more than their physical, observable state. When I’m on a summit, what I experience isn’t just snow and stars and rocks...it's…well I wouldn’t bother with it if that was all I got out of it. Look, I don’t think I could ever explain it in a way you’d be able to understand.”

The channel goes silent, longer than the normal exaggerated pauses SAM inserts into his responses. The silence is deafening on the heels of her tirade. As if he’s...affronted.

“Thank you Ryder.” SAM says at last. Clipped and professional. Is it her imagination or is it too professional? If there were such a thing? “I will attempt an analysis with this feedback in mind.”

Se-ah nods, unnecessarily given that it is SAM, her heart sinking. Who knows what havoc a peeved AI could wreck in her brain, apparently without either of them any the wiser? And if she can’t explain it to SAM she doesn’t know how she’s supposed to explain what happened to Jaal. Not that she didn’t try before, during all the sobbing, but it was impossible to get anything out that wasn’t ‘I’m fine, I just...’ before dissolving into tears again. He didn’t press her for more.

But maybe now that she isn’t an emotional wreck, he might. Whether she has answers is less certain.

‘Sorry, SAM says you overloaded my mesolimbic circuit and that it’s all very scientific and reasonable and I’m not crazy. Or I might be. Have you heard the human folk tale about the cat?”

Awful. The shivering sensation in her chest unfurls again and spreads out into her fingers. She furrows them into the crease of Jaal’s side and the cot, letting his warmth soothe the trembling overtaking her frame. His arm wraps tighter reflexively. This is the sort of moment she wants to soak in, slow, like sunlight filtering through leaves stippling ancient Morse-code patterns over her face. Eyes closed, she inhales and vague memories sift warm impressions on the backs of her eyelids.

Hands, scarred and calloused and massive sweeping soft, reassuring circles against her back. His chin on the top of her head, her face tucked into the graceful sweep of his neck where a crook would be on hers. A low thrum: his voice, unintelligable, but soothing. A musical hum buzzes through the air.

Se-ah sighs and blinks her eyes open to glance up. He’s still deep asleep, snoring away. A hazy, contented smile gathers at the corners of his mouth and makes him look, for all the universe, like someone having a pleasant dream.

Despite spending the vast majority of her waking moments on the ship in his makeshift bedroom, she’s never seen him this way. The quiet of the ship is unsettling, he claims. Unlike his naps on the NOMAD, the only sleep she sees him take on the ship is fitful, almost violent--covers twisting, his hands clutching, face grimacing, the names of the lost wrenching out of him as he jolts awake. But even the sleep he snatches on the NOMAD doesn’t look this peaceful. It takes him quick and fast, like something joyless and inevitable. She grimaces. Like death.

Studying his lidded eyes, she shifts on the cot to lean her weight more on his chest and tip her head back, peering up at the sweeping planes of his cheekbones, the point of his chin, and the fine ridge of his brow. He’s beautiful. All angara are, to her eye-- all grace and noble carved profiles like ancient Athame sculptures given color, life, and a Romanesque bone structure. But Jaal’s beauty is sharper, more defined than anything out of asari or human antiquity. War and grief etch his face in a landscape of visible and invisible scars, throwing the softness that remains, obstinate and miraculous, in high relief. The softness is all she sees now. It is the face of a man who dreams, hopes, composes poems and perfumes, and is always seeking, searching, finding bits of wonder. If it weren’t for the kett, this might always be his face and Andromeda would be a place where it would fit. The dreamer. The tinkerer. The explorer.

But the kett stole that place away from him. War is spare. Merciless. There is little room for anything else but soldiers. Se-ah bites the inside of her lip, hard. Jaal is the first to insist he isn’t much of a soldier.

She doesn’t realize the snoring stops until he, without bothering to open his eyes, asks, “Yes, Ryder?”

Chagrined and surprised over how close she’s gotten, she immediately jolts away. “You’ve been awake? How long?” The slant of his smile changes but his eyes stay closed, “Long enough. Were you under the impression that you were being discreet?”

Fair point.

“So why didn’t you say something?” “I was trying to sleep. Speaking seemed counterproductive.”

“Uh huh. To your eavesdropping, maybe.”

Jaal doesn’t look at her, on account of the fact that he’d yet to bother opening his eyes, but the resigned set of his shoulders conveys a beleaguered expression that comes with an air of ‘No, I don’t think I’ll even bother ’. It’s one he wears around Liam with regularity. “Please do not attempt to explain that one. If I cannot sleep I’d much rather occupy my mind elsewhere.”

He makes a point of settling further into the cot, the large divot his body forms in the fabric deepening. Maybe he’s trying to free up the arm underneath her she realizes, belatedly. Renewed mortification crowds up her neck and she coughs to clear her throat. “Oh, then I should...leave you to that then,” she says, cheeks burning as she draws back against the gravitational pull of his weight on the cot, narrowly avoiding toppling on top of him.

“Stay.” At last Jaal blinks open his eyelids, a slow reveal of vivid blue. He looks at her, uncharacteristically uncertain, before saying, simply, “If...you’d like. You could join me.”

She hesitates. “Join you--elsewhere?”

“No, just here.”

Somehow he feels...closer. Not physically. It’s as if the gap in the universe between them has vanished overnight. She’s no longer on the precipice, her thoughts and feelings a faint, distorted comm. She’s there , a few bare centimeters in front of him and he’s looking at her as if he can see every detail of her with absolute clarity. It’s dreamer’s look with a tinkerer’s focus and his eyes are luminous, twin helium nebulae lit from within with something like wonder. She mistook it for morbid fascination once. This time she knows better. He smiles as if he might laugh. Fond. Unbearably so. Her chest hurts to look at it.

“No idioms, nothing else. Just this. Right now.” The words linger, rippling against her skin in gentle, rumbling waves. Jaal crooks his pinned arm and brushes back the fluttering snarl of her hair.

A quiet bubble settles around the tiny cot, enclosing them within the warm, sunset smell of him. It feels safe. Like home. She doesn’t know the last time she felt those things. Not since-- It should be strange to find them here, an entire galaxy away, with an alien who openly spoke about killing her after they’d just met.

Jaal’s huff of a laugh skips across the quiet like a smooth stone on a lake surface. Something about it tells her he’s picked up on the precise turn of her thoughts--too perceptive by half. “You know, you are remarkably expressive. Almost angaran.”

She tucks her face into the slope of his neck and pulls a scowl, even though it isn’t an insult. The memory of her tragic poker loss to Gil is still all too fresh and she feels a little too raw, a little too exposed with nowhere to hide her vulnerabilities. Instead of answering, she buries a noncommittal sound into his bare skin.

He laughs again, rueful and soft. “It was a clumsy effort, but it was intended as a compliment. We are a vocal people. More than words and expressions. In addition to combative and deliberate communication uses, our bioelectrics have subtle subconscious patterns and pulses. I believe your hanar are similar, in the visible electromagnetic spectrum. It is difficult to suppress. Few have scrupulous reasons to try.”

His fused fingers twine into her hair. It seems a point of endless fascination for him. Even in the Milky Way, hair is something of a novelty.

“The emotions of those around us pervade all our senses. It saturates our lives. My first days on this ship were so...disorienting. I felt the absence keenly, like a limb lost in battle.”

Her scowl vanishes and she looks up to meet his eyes again. Of course, she’d suspected his trouble adjusting, but never knew the full extent. He kept so much hidden then. “It must have made it that much more difficult, deciding if you could trust us.”

Jaal laughs. It sounds pained. “Very. I learned to look harder, with time. There is a beauty in subtlety. Underappreciated among my people, but I’ve grown quite fond of it. Humans were easier. And then, there was you.”

“About as subtle as a flaming ship crashing on your planet?”

Genuine mirth threads into his laughter, his eyes tracing over her upturned face. “Yes. An apt comparison. Vivid, exciting… deeply alarming to some.”

She brightens and his smile deepens. The hand at her temple curls against her skin to brush a soft line over her cheek with the backs of his knuckles.

“It made trusting you more easy than wise, considering the risk.”

“I’m sure Evfra disapproved,” she says.

“Of course. Evfra is a cautious strategist. He despaired of me.”

Jaal leans his cheek against her head, looking off towards the dim ambient glow of the machines running through their downtime routines.

“My caution was always a feeble force and your face...says such beautiful things. I didn’t understand why you struggled so desperately to hide them away.” He adds, blunt as ever, “Not... well, of course . But with an extraordinary amount of effort. I imagine it was exhausting. Inexpressibly painful. My heart ached just to see it.”

The corners of her eyes begin to prickle. Machine lights catch on the dust motes, adrift on the flickering electrostatic currents weaving around and between them, setting each pinpoint aglow like rippling eddies of distant stars.

“I thought the same about you, you know. Before we rescued the Moshae.”

Caution shackling his expressions and the strategic withdrawals into clipped one-word answers calculated to give as little away as possible. She’s more glad than she can say to have earned his trust and the chance to see his genuine self without the fetters of fear and uncertainty. He said getting to know her would be a gift and that is how knowing him better feels--like the best gift she didn’t even know to ask for.

He nods. “Yes. I wept for joy that she was safe and for the wrenching horror of what we learned that day but also I wept for my freedom from my own fears. Escaping them was...liberating despite my grief. Cathartic. I think perhaps you felt something of that same freedom. Earlier, when you cried.”

Catharsis. Freedom-- but from what? She wasn’t on a diplomatic mission with alien intruders. She was just-- her . A touch-starved awkward hugger with a trigger-happy mesolimbic circuit. But, that feels insufficient as far as explanations go. Instead, she remembers Scott crying, wailing, hands fisting over his eyes. It’s gone. I have to find it. People are looking. Mom ignores them and kneels despite the crowd, attempting to soothe him. Alec Ryder’s stonefaced expression fractures into a grimace. Pained. He turns away. His hand presses down on her own small shoulder and squeezes. It feels like pride. She forces her chin to stop quivering. She won’t cry. Nothing will ever be okay and everything is wrong but she is Alec Ryder’s daughter and she is old enough to do that much.

A tear slips into her hairline and Jaal’s thumb rubs it away. Breath held, she reaches up between them to capture his hand in her own. His eyes are full of reflected stars, twin galaxies pulling her into their inexorable spin. At the point of her outstretched fingernail is a pinprick of light, fanning off, faintly luminous, refracting off her tears.Se-ah pauses, taken aback, blinking away the moisture collecting on her lashes. It’s not a trick of the light. Her fingertips are actually glowing. And, she realizes, the air is...humming.

“SAM, are we about to fry anything with this corona discharge?” she asks. All at once the air changes, the charged dust motes around them still and the lights on her fingertips flicker out. It smells and feels like a storm just swept out of the tech lab.

“Appropriate precautions have already been taken to accommodate non-combat angaran electromagnetic field manipulation, Pathfinder. Ozone levels are also within acceptable limits.”

Jaal coughs and looks away, suddenly awkward. “Ahh...as I was saying, it requires some concentration to suppress.”

“Can you stop? Concentrating that is? It’s not as if--well, SAM said it wouldn’t hurt anything.”

Now that she’s paying better attention, she can feel the tingling pressure building and shifting around them. The hairs stand up on her arms. The air smells bright and clean. Light collects on her fingertips again. Faint, but visible. Se-ah laughs, delighted, and slowly bends her fingers, watching the blue flicker and reappear. Ionized plasma balancing on the edge of an electromagnetic field pierced by the short point of her nail. Hardly seemed subtle in her book. Little about him was.

“We call this St. Elmo’s Fire,” she tells him. “It was considered a good omen by ancient human voyagers.”

“Ah. I’m your good omen then?”

“Well, we haven’t crashed once since you got here.”

He brings his free palm to hers, one fused, two separate for her five. She adds, sincerely, “It’s beautiful. Does this happen to you a lot? I’ve never noticed before.”

“No. This is...it’s more. It is special. Explaining would be difficult. Clumsy. I cannot do it justice.”

Hands pressed together, his palm dwarfing hers, a swell of emotion courses through her and a stubborn tear traces down her cheek. She laughs and a sniffle turns it into a tremulous, hiccuping burst of happiness.

“Is there a word for it in Shelesh?”

“No,” he says simply. “There is just this.”

Churning waves of electrons are crashing against her fingertips, caught in the lunar pull of him. Everything dissolves in the watery film of tears and she’s floating, falling, swept by tidal forces into an endless depth of variegated blue. There can be no words, in Shelesh or any other language. But she knows anyway. Floating in an electron sea of his design, palms pressed, wrapped in his embrace--she knows exactly what he is saying.

#jaal ama darav #mass effect andromeda #jaal x ryder #jaal romance

12 notes · View notes

mrslittletall · 5 years ago

Text

Title: Off Balance (Chapter 5) Fandom: Hollow Knight Characters: The Pale King/The White Lady, The Pure Vessel, Quirrel Word Count: 4.953 AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21805333/chapters/56064319 Previous chapter: https://mrslittletall.tumblr.com/post/611130227175849984/title-off-balance-chapter-4-fandom-hollow

Summary: The Pale King wants to confront Hollow about their behaviour and learns a few things himself.

(Author's note: It's sad bug hours.

Seriously, I planned for them to leave for Deepnest soon, but that fic got a mind of its own and suddenly something very different happened. I am so sorry to let you wait for Baby Hornet so long, I promise she will come up soon.)

The Pale King had to admit that the impromptu lesson in sign language was rather interesting. Quirrel mainly taught Hollow about the basics first, that it was possible to spell out every single letter of the Hallownest alphabet, but it was far more common to sign out words and he started with a basic rundown of often used words as well as a few commonly used phrases. The Pale King found himself mimicking the showed signs with his own claws, his attention half at the lesson and half at the time when he still had been a fully grown wyrm, which didn't had fingers or a need to sign. He was able to verbally talk or just send his thoughts right into the mind of whoever stood before him.

While he still was able to do the latter, in his current form sending his thoughts out would get people to worship him, not wanting to communicate. He also doubted (and hoped) that Hollow hadn't inherited this ability. He wondered what they had inherited from him. Looks obviously, that face and horns didn't lie about just who their father was. A tight control over soul. Anxiety. Alright, that last one wasn't the best thing to inherit. The Pale King shook himself out of his thoughts and concentrated fully on the lesson and his child in front of him again.

Hollow seemed to absorb everything Quirrel said, their gaze stayed firmly at his hands and they signed the shown words back flawlessly when Quirrel prompted them to do so. After a while of watching his child the Pale King's gaze shifted to Quirrel and it felt like the pill bug seemed to enjoy teaching Hollow, there was just such a particular shine around him. It felt like he already had took a liking to them, which made the Pale King glad. He was worried that it would be hard for them to get accepted, due to their void nature. Which was his fault. Ah, there was his anxiety again. He went back to trying out the signs Quirrel showed until Hollow's finger wavered and seemed to loose form.

“It's time for bed, Hollow.”, the Pale King said from the back and came closer to lay an arm around Hollow.

“It's rather late.”, Quirrel admitted. “We can continue this tomorrow. Hollow, your majesty.”, Quirrel gave both of them a bow.

“Let's get you into bed, Hollow.”, the Pale King said and they gave him a little nod before he led them out of the library and to their room. Would it have been earlier, before he had accepted them as his child, he wouldn't have come in with them, just put them down in front of the room and went away, but this time he found himself opening the door and waiting as Hollow got ready for bed.

Once they had climbed into bed, they forced their fingers to manifest another time and signed words which he did recognize as: “Good night, father.”

It put a smile on the Pale King's face, he was proud of just what a quick learner they were. Once Hollow's head hit the pillow and he could hear their breathing evening out, implying just how tired they had been, he tucked them in and rested a hand on one of their horns, whispering: “Sleep tight, my child.”

He stayed seated on the bed for a few minutes longer before he remembered that he had promised his Root to also go to to bed timely this night instead of pulling an all nighter trying out how to solve the infection without anything in mind. On his way to his chambers he encountered Quirrel again, who was cleaning his nail and seemed to have waited for him, because he said: “Can I talk to you for a minute, your majesty?”

“What is it?”, the Pale King asked, a knot forming in his chest.

“I wanted to ask for a schedule for the sign language lessons. You are surely busy and it would be better for Hollow to have a clear idea when lessons happening.”, Quirrel said and the knot of anxiety dissolved in the chest of the Pale King, he had expected something more concerning. Mostly about Hollow. Though this conversation reminded him that he had neglected his duties as the ruler of Hallownest sorely lately and his royal retainers would probably not let him off the bat any longer.

“We need to take a look at our schedule before we can decide.”, he said. “We will come back to you tomorrow.”

“Very well, then.”, Quirrel said and shouldered his nail, though instead of walking away, he continued talking: “May I ask another question? About Hollow?”

And there was the knot in the Pale King's chest again. He knew he could easily decline it, but concern won over and he heard himself say: “What is your question? Is something wrong with them?”

“Not physically, as long as I am aware.”, Quirrel said. “I am not really suited to answer this questions, with their body being different. I wanted to point out... during the lesson they were surely eager to learn and very interested in it, but... they never would act without a prompt. They always would wait for me, or you, to tell them that they could act now. This behaviour... is concerning. I... just wanted to ask if you are aware of it.”

The Pale King sighed, that Hollow would never act on their own was his own fault and again and again he got reminded of it, though Quirrel was the first one to point it out to him. Surely Monomon's influence.

“We are aware of this behaviour.”, he replied. “We also have to admit that this is our own fault.” He didn't knew why he added the last sentence, it wasn't like Quirrel needed to know. It wasn't like anyone needed to know how wrong he had raised his child. “We want to work on it, but we first wanted to give Hollow some time to find themselves.”

“I understand.”, Quirrel said. “I thank you for being so honest with me, your majesty, but...”, Quirrel seemed to search for words, “It isn't my place to talk about it, but I wanted to tell you, for children it is important to have clear guidance from their parents while they also feel that they can decide for themselves, especially at Hollow's age. May I suggest that you ask Lady Monomon for advice?” Quirrel looked at the Pale King and then adjusted his bandana. “Ah, but it's getting late, my apologies for keeping you up for so long. We will see each other at the next lesson for Hollow.”

He left and the Pale King looked after him for a while, thinking. He had to admit, he feared that he could influence Hollow any further and because of this had avoided to talk to them about their behaviour. It certainly was a behaviour that he was annoyed with, but it was his own fault that they were locked into listening to orders and after what he had planned for them, he felt more than bad getting mad at them for something that was his own fault. He knew, it couldn't continue like this, he had to confront them about it somewhen and better sooner or later before it became too engraved in their head and would be impossible to unlearn. That paired with the fact that almost nobody knew yet that Hollow was his child and heir and that further paired with the fact that the infection was still lingering and threatening the whole kingdom. These thoughts followed the Pale King as he went to bed and after an hour of just tossing and turning instead of sleeping he found himself in his Root's chambers and leaned against her towering form, feeling how her branches embraced him in her sleep, helping him drifting off to sleep.

When he awoke early the next day his Root was already awake and gently stroked his wings. “When I said I wanted you to sleep, I meant in your own bed, but at least you got some sleep, so I won't complain.”, she said. “Do you want to talk about what kept you up? Is it the lingering infection?”

The Pale King pulled himself up but still leaned against her stem. “This time it is Hollow.”, he said.

“What is troubling you about our child?”

Our child. The way she said it made it feel so real and still, he felt like he barely had the right to call himself the father of said child nor deserve the love they had for him.

“You probably noticed that Hollow will never act on their own unless prompted or just... follow everything you say to them literally?”, the Pale King murmured.

The White Lady stopped stroking his wings. “Yes, yes, that I have.”, she said coldly. “Just yesterday to be precise. Several times.”

“It's my fault that they are like this.”, he said, face buried in his claws. It was early morning and he already felt a headache coming. “I want for them... to unlearn it, but at the same time, I am afraid about confronting them about it. After what I had planned for them and everything. I still can't believe they don't resent me.”

“My wyrm, isn't that obvious.”, the White Lady lifted him up and placed him on her lap... what counted as her lap, it was never clear to say with her plant like body. “You have loved them from the start and they knew it. That is why they can show their feelings to you so openly, now that the burden of their mission isn't on them anymore.”

“...I hate how right you are with this...”, the Pale King said, meaning that he also was the reason that the Pure Vessel turned out to be, well, impure. He didn't regret his choice, accepting Hollow as his child had brought him a lot of joy so far, but there was also a lot of insecurity and anxiety. He just wasn't used to this whole parenting stuff. Especially because for his own race, it was usual to feed the younglings and then kick them out of the nest once they were strong enough to find their own territory to rule over. “I guess... I am afraid that I could do something wrong. Erm, more wrong than I did beforehand.”, he concluded his thoughts out aloud.

“My wyrm, you aren't alone in this.”, the White Lady snuggled him a bit more and he let himself relax in her touch, she always managed to make him feel better. “I am here too and there are bugs you can ask for help. Bugs that already raised children. Monomon for example. Did you know that she found her assistant as little grub and raised him herself?”

What? Monomon surely hadn't ever mentioned this and Quirrel still called her Lady Monomon, which didn't imply a family relationship between the two. He shook his head to answer her question. “I thought so. He told me himself yesterday when I went to talk to him. He speaks in very high regards of Monomon and it doesn't hurt you to get out more. It will also be better for Hollow to not be stuck in here all the time. I already plan to take them with me to the gardens.”

The thought of his Root taking Hollow to the garden made the Pale King a bit uneasy and he felt like he wanted to go with them should she take Hollow out on a trip, though Hollow surely would be fine without him for a day. Or... was it the other way around? Was it him that didn't want to be alone? Had he already become so dependent on his child?

“You are the second person to bring Monomon up in this regard.”, he said. “And as much as I enjoy being cuddled by you, Root, shall we get some breakfast?”

“A wonderful idea, my Wyrm.”, she said and gently put him down, getting up to her full height, offering one of her branches to the Pale King which he took into his claws and left her room with her. Dryya had started to guard it in the meantime and gave them both a bow when they left, though the Pale King felt that she narrowed her eyes at his sight. She had always been his Root's knight and didn't approve of this nightly visits, even though the both of them were married.

The White Lady gave Dryya a friendly greeting but the Pale King had his mind more at the prospect of getting his morning coffee soon. Though he had gotten some sleep in his Root's embrace, it hadn't been too much. On their way to the mess hall the couple encountered Hollow.

They had formed their fingers again and signed what he Pale King recognized as “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Hollow.”, the Pale King said.

“Good morning. Do you want to take your breakfast with us?”, the White Lady said and once again the Pale King saw how they looked at him. He sighed, the talk about their behaviour shouldn't be put off any longer, though it surely could wait after breakfast.

“Please come and join us at our breakfast.”, the Pale King said. It didn't sound too much like an order but was clear enough for Hollow to follow them without further ado.

The three of them could take in their breakfast at peace, the Pale King was especially glad about his morning coffee, pure black and strong, which finally woke him up completely for the day. Hollow seemed to take some interest in his morning beverage, but the White Lady just shook her head and told them that it tasted far too bitter, that made their interest in the coffee dwindle. Good, because the Pale King hadn't intended to share, but he had the feeling that he had gotten weak would Hollow have asked. Oh, who was he kidding, they wouldn't have asked, the would have waited for him to offer them to taste it.

Once they were done eating and all three of them left the room, the Pale King turned to Hollow and said: “Hollow, I need to talk with you.”, but before he could say when and where, his Royal Retainers showed up and it was apparent that they had work for him. “Uh, later then, Hollow.”, the Pale King said as he tried to process all the informations the retainers had for him.

The work for the Pale King had piled up a good deal the few days he had mainly taken care of Hollow, both to teach them how to keep their balance and the days where he had started to treat them like his child, so to his disdain he didn't found any time to talk with Hollow during the day nor finding time to work on the infection. At least he could set up a schedule with the retainers which left the evenings free for him, which he would use for Hollow's sign language lessons and the rest of the evenings (and a few nights if his Root wouldn't find out), would be spend finding a way to fight infection.

Several coffees later, which would make any bug jittery but the Pale King just able to stay awake during the day, he was just used to it so much already, evening finally rolled and after the sign language lesson he finally had time to talk with Hollow as he walked them to their room.

“So, I wanted to talk with you.”, he said as Hollow sat themselves on their bed, their gaze directed at him. “Um... it's not easy for me to bring this up, but...”, the Pale King was at a loss for words. How should he tell them he wanted them to stop doing what he taught them in the first place?

“Hollow, what do you want?”, he asked instead.

They cocked their head and then signed two words: “Make. Father. Happy.”

Oh no, that was too cute, but completely missed the point.

“I mean... I am glad that you think about me, but... I want to know what you want. What would make you happy.”

Hollow looked at their fingers for a while and then got out the journal, the answer probably was too complicated for the rudimentary sign language they had learned so far.

“I am happy as long as I can make you happy.”, they had wrote and they looked far too proud as they presented the notebook to him.

“Hollow, that's not what I mean...”, the Pale King sighed and sat himself on the bed next to them. “Imagine for a moment that I wouldn't exist. What would you do then?”

Apparently, he had said the wrong thing because Hollow started to shiver and then signed: “Not leave.”

“What?! No, child, I don't plan on leaving.”, the Pale King said, laying a hand over their shoulders, flinching at their icy body, but left it there until they calmed down. “Just, uh, theoretically. What would you do if you didn't had myself there to make happy?”

They thought for a bit and then wrote again. What they presented made the Pale King's blood freeze in his veins: “I don't know. I thought I would be the Vessel. I thought I would contain the infection. I never thought about anything that wouldn't be me the Vessel. I tried not to think about anything.”

“I am sorry.”, the Pale King just said, rubbing circles in Hollow's back, taking care to not accidentally hurt them with his claws. Hollow picked up their quill again to ask a question.

“How did you decide to become King?”

Well, that was an unexpected question. “...It's in my nature.”, the Pale King told them. “It's the nature of wyrm's to rule. I was searching for my kingdom and travelled to many places. Then I found it here.” What he didn't told them was, that he had literally died in this kingdom, after a fight with far stronger worm and while he could feel a certain connection to Hallownest, shedding his old body and rebirthing himself had been necessary or he would have died for good from his injuries.

“That is the reason why you fear so much to lose it.”

Hollow hadn't put a question mark behind this sentence, practically stating his thoughts. There he was, he wanted to confront his child about their behaviour and now they were probing into his own mind.

“Well, yes, of course... but I also have a certain obligation to protect Hallownest and now that we don't use the vessel plan anymore...” , the Pale King rambled, averting his gaze. There was a bit of silence as he concentrated on the folds in Hollow's pillow, but turned his head back again when he heard the scratching of Hollow's quill on the paper.

“Father... I can still be your vessel. I know... I wouldn't make it forever, but... I could contain her long enough until you found another vessel to take over.”

The Pale King couldn't, no, didn't want to believe what he just saw them say.

“Hollow! I never want to see you say anything like this ever again!”, he didn't even notice that he had yelled at them, only when Hollow flinched and shivered and... started to cry. Thick, inky tears were running down their face and it was breaking the Pale King's heart. He pulled them in a hug as quickly as possible. “Hollow, I am sorry, I didn't want to yell, it's alright, please don't cry.”, he tried to soothe them, feeling them shivering, not caring that their tears stained his robes. “I... I never wanted to make you feel useless... you... you aren't.”

The Pale King rubbed soothing circles in their back while they silently bawled their eyes out. “I know that you want to please me, but... you aren't the Vessel anymore, you are your own person and I want you to be comfortable being your own person.”, he said. “I know it's my fault... that you can't express yourself... I... I won't force you to do anything, but promise me... that we work on it, alright?”

Hollow stopped shivering and looked up at him, still a few tears dribbling down their face, but they wiped them away with their sleeve (pretty much ruining the robe) and nodded.

“Good. Have you calmed down?”, the Pale King asked.

After a few seconds of blankly staring Hollow shook their head.

“You are probably too upset to go to sleep now...”, the Pale King said. “How about you join me in my workshop until you feel better?”

Hollow nodded pretty much instantly. The choice to word questions like a half order seemed to work. This wasn't only on Hollow's part, the Pale King had to do his part too. He was their father after all.

“We should probably get you a second robe if your first one gets dirty...”, the Pale King said, not paying attention at his own robes which were smeared full with Hollow's tears. Hollow just took their robe off and wrapped their cloak like wings around them. “I guess that works too.”, the Pale King said.

The palace was mostly silent already as the duo walked to the Pale King's workshop, the Pale King could see how Hollow sometimes still wiped their face with their now uncovered arm, the one that wasn't carrying their nail, which they had insisted to take with them. Their old nail was still in their room and while the Pale King didn't knew why they didn't get rid of it, he decided to let them have their way. There were more troublesome things as his child latching onto an old toy. ...It wasn't even a toy. The Pale King asked himself if he should get Hollow some toys, but didn't had a clue what they would even like, especially at their age. He probably should ask Monomon for advice, just as he had been suggested.

Arrived at his workshop Hollow found a chair to sit in and just watched the Pale King, sitting perfectly still, well that wasn't entirely true, he could see them shiver a bit still.

“Wait here, Hollow, I am right back.”, the Pale King said, knowing that they wouldn't have left even if he hadn't said anything.

The Pale King searched for some of the Royal Retainers who were still awake and got lucky, finding a few of them playing cards in their free time, stopping the game immediately when he approached them and bowed, listening quietly to his request and then rushing off, all four of them even though one of them would have been more than enough to handle the task he had for them.

The Pale King returned to his workshop, where Hollow was still sitting. “You can explore the room, Hollow.”, the Pale King said. “Just don't touch anything without asking me first.”

Hollow shook their head and then signed: “Watch. You.”

“Alright then.”, the Pale King said, “Though I won't do anything to exciting. I need to write a few letters first.”

He was halfway through the first letter when there was a knock on the door. The Pale King dropped his quill and stood up, went to the door and encountered the Royal Retainer who had apparently won being the one who would deliver his request and a second one standing behind them, carrying some fresh robes. He took the two hot beverages he had ordered from them as well as the robe and said: “You have our thanks. You are dismissed. Both of you.”

The retainers gave him a bow and hurried off, the Pale King turned around and closed the door with a smack of his tail, walking back to Hollow who had watched the whole exchange, and offered them one of the mugs. “Some hot chocolate for you to calm down.”, he said and then put his own mug down, a cup of his usual black coffee. He stared at the robe for a while, asking himself why they had brought it until he realized that his robes were still stained black from Hollow's tears. He quickly changed robes out of sight of Hollow and then watched them when he returned.

Hollow seemed to light up at the beverage and he could see them “drink” it eagerly, at least it looked like drinking, but like always, he wasn't too sure just how they were consuming any kind of food.

“Be careful, it's hot.”, the Pale King said, but Hollow shook their head, it seemed to be just right for them.

The Pale King sipped from his own coffee and continued his letter. It was the one for Herrah. Now that he had worked out a schedule, he could determine a date for their meeting. He had to admit, he grew excited too, even though the meeting was meant for Hollow's sake, still, the little spiderling under Herrah's care was also his daughter, though he could consider himself lucky if Herrah would let him hold her. He just hoped that Hollow would get special treatment.

The next letter was assigned to Monomon and though he tried to make it sound as formally as possible when he read through it again it pretty much felt like he had written: “Monomon, help, I am a father now and I am not ready.” He decided to let his Root take another look over it before sending it, already imagining at what parts she would chuckle.

Once he laid his quill down, Hollow put their mug on the table next to him and stared at his mug.

“You don't want this, it's not sweet.”, the Pale King said. “Why are you so interested in my coffee anyway?”

“Smell. Good.”, Hollow signed.

“Well, I can tell you that you are still too young for coffee.”, the Pale King said. “Besides, this beverage helps you not sleeping and we want to calm you down for bed, remember?”

“Father not sleep? Mother. Angry.”, Hollow signed.

“I don't plan on staying up all night, I just don't want to get to bed right away.”, the Pale King said. “Besides, I am used to coffee, I can easily sleep after one cup.”

Hollow calmed down after that and then after a few more minutes of watching him as he read the letter to Monomon once again, got up and started to explore the workshop. The Pale King laid the letter down and watched them. Technically he should work on finding a solution for the infection, but with no ideas and still worried about his child, he had to delay it. Hollow looked at pretty much everything and didn't touch anything, just like he had requested, though they also didn't ask for permission to touch anything. They stayed a while in front of the moulds that the Pale King used to form the Wingsmould and Kingsmould, extended their hand but drew it back before they touched it. Lastly, they stood in front of the board on which the Pale King had doodled all kinds of “ideas” getting rid of the infection, but which only showed how out of options he felt.

They turned to the Pale King and pointed at the chalk, asking permission to use it. “Do you want to draw something?”, the Pale King asked and as they took it, he added: “You can wipe the whole board, that stuff was going nowhere anyway...”

Hollow did as he told them and being satisfied that they found a way to pass the time, the Pale King opened a book on the ancient civilization before he came to rule the kingdom, hoping to find some hints in there, getting lost in the words and feeling calmed down by the scratching of the chalk on the board.

He turned around to look at the board to see what Hollow had drawn once the sounds stopped, but felt an icy chill at the words on the board:

No cost too great.

No mind to think.

No will to break.

No voice to cry suffering.

Born of God and Void.

You shall seal the blinding light that plagues their dreams.

You are the Vessel.

You are the Hollow Knight.

These words... he had used them to condition the vessels to their task. Had repeated it to them over and over, so that they would get imprinted on containing the Radiance, containing the infection, living to just complete this task. Seeing how his own child recounted this mantra that flawlessly made him feel small and awfully sorry. Especially when he saw the next words written on the right side of the board.

“When I am not the Hollow Knight anymore, not the Vessel anymore, then who am I?”

Of course they would struggle. Of course they would be unsure of their identity, but the Pale King had never thought about this. He got up and crossed the room to give Hollow a second hug for the day.

“You are mine and your mother's child.”, he said. “And you can take your time figuring out who you are. As your father, I only know one thing for sure. You are Hollow and I love you.” (Author's note: Whoops, surprise angst! Anyone else loving the idea that Quirrel is GREAT with children and often goes teaching classes when Monomon doesn't have much work for him? I am cherishing him more and more lately.) Chapter 6

#hollow knight #fanfiction #the pale king #the pure vessel #the white lady #quirrel #wyrmroot #littlewritesstuff #PK doesn't know how to dad

12 notes · View notes