#here have flop art again go fetch

[sheila--e]

Why does the rain choose me? Why does it choose me who has nowhere to escape to?

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 52: Tattoos

When he left the Wizarding World, Harry hadn't thought too much about what would happen to Draco Malfoy after he testified for him at his trial.

If pressed, he probably would have assumed that Malfoy would have continued in his father's footsteps. He would have imagined well tailored suits and robes, long blonde hair, the same aristocratic nose tipped in the air.

So, perhaps his jaw all but hitting the floor when he saw the other man for the first time in five years was understandable.

And it wasn't the fact that he was walking into the muggle bar that Harry worked at that shocked him, it was the fact that Malfoy had trimmed his hair short on the sides and left the top long; it was that he'd dyed it hot pink.

It was the fact that his left arm had a muggle tattoo covering the dark mark that had once been there with beautiful, bright flowers; new life coming out of death. It was the dragon tattoo peaking out of the collar of his shirt, that Harry guessed, was shaped around his namesake constellation.

It was the loose, black v-neck, muggle t-shirt tucked into skinny jeans that were cuffed just above his ankles. And the three earrings in the cartilage at the top of his right ear.

It was that he looked nothing like the stiff, tidy, pretentious twat that Harry would have envisioned him growing into and it made Harry wonder what else he was wrong about.

Malfoy caught sight of him a few second later and literally froze in place.

"What can I get you?" Harry asked, giving him a little smile.

"Sorry," Malfoy said, cocking his head uncertainly, "You look like someone I used to know."

(Read more below the cut)

And that was fair, too, Harry supposed. He didn't look anything like the scrawny, desperate teen he'd been the last time Malfoy saw him, either. Harry had grown a good six inches since then, his shoulders had filled out, he'd grown his hair long because the curls were less messy that way, he'd grown a beard that he kept short and tidy, and he had a few tattoos of his own. "You look like someone I used to know, too," he replied, "But you can't possibly be the same person that I thought I knew and I'm sure that I'm not quite what you thought either." He tilted his head at Malfoy, "What can I get you?" he repeated.

"What would you recommend?" Malfoy asked as he slid into a bar stool with a touch more caution than Harry liked.

"Do you like sweet drinks?" he asked, "I have this cotton candy drink that we make with cranberry juice and raspberry vodka," then he added, "And cotton candy, obviously."

"That would definitely be something I've never tried before," Malfoy replied with a little smile.

"Done." While Harry was making the drink he said, "So what brings you so far from home?"

Malfoy cocked his head, "I left home ages ago," he said. "Disowned, as a matter of fact."

Harry frowned as he reached under the bar to fetch the cotton candy, "What? Why?"

Harry saw him lift one shoulder casually before having to stick his head into the cupboard below to reach the bag of cotton candy in the back, "Apparently, Malfoys are allowed to make all sorts of mistakes and commit all sorts of atrocities, but being gay was just one step too far for them."

Harry bashed the back of his head against the bar in his haste to stand up, "Wait, you're-?" he started before registering just how badly that had hurt, "Ouch, fuck," he said, rubbing the back of his skull.

"Here," Malfoy murmured, holding out his hand, "Let me."

Harry leaned over and Malfoy gently cupped the back of his head and murmured something under his breath. A moment later a warm, tingly feeling suffused Harry's head and all of the pain disappeared.

"Wow," Harry said, rubbing the back of his skull again and feeling for any tender spots, "That was amazing."

Malfoy shrugged and Harry went back to working on the drink. "I was training to be a healer," he confessed softly so no one would overhear, "But then I had one too many people refuse to let me help them because of-" he broke off and shook his head, "Well you know."

"I'm sorry that happened to you," Harry said with a frown as he slid the drink across the bar. He was about to say more when Ben, one of his regulars, came up to the bar for a refill, "Hold that thought," he said, making his way over to get him another bourbon.

"This," Malfoy said, pointing to the drink Harry had made him when he returned a few minutes later, "Is actually quite tasty, Potter."

He laughed, "No need for the tone of surprise, this has been my job for nearly five years now. And you can call me, Harry," he added.

The corner of Draco's mouth tilted up, "Oh I can, can I?"

Harry nodded, "And I think I'll be calling you Draco."

"Bold of you," he said but he was smiling so Harry didn't take him too seriously.

"Gryffindor," he replied, pointing to himself with a wink. "So tell me about yourself, Draco," he said.

And to his surprise and utter delight, Draco did. He sat at the bar, sipping that martini before switching over to lemonade, all evening, telling Harry about his life and asking questions about Harry in turn.

One things led to another and by the time Harry was getting ready to leave, Harry was really not ready for the night to end.

"Can I walk you home?" Draco asked, apparently he wasn't ready for it to end either.

Harry smiled at him and nodded toward his house, they set off down the street talking about nothing. He only lived a few blocks away and they found themselves standing at the bottom of Harry's steps all too soon.

"Will you punch me if I kiss you?" Draco asked him.

Harry shook his head with a smile he couldn't quite hide, and leaned forward to meet Draco halfway. The moment their lips met, Harry's veins felt like they'd been set on fire. He reached out and clasped the fabric of Draco's t-shirt in his hands and pulled him forward, crashing their bodies together.

"Come inside," Harry begged against Draco's lips.

Draco pulled back, brow furrowed slightly, "You want this? With me?"

"Godric, yes," he groaned. "Please."

The other man gave him a breathless little smile and Harry dragged him up the stairs and straight to the bedroom.

Afterward, Harry got up to order them some pizza and when he returned, Draco was laid on his back on the bed, his pink hair fanned out across the pillow, Harry couldn't help but think that his body looked more gorgeous than any work of art he'd ever seen. And Harry sat up beside him admire him better, "I thought this one was your constellation," he murmured triumphantly, stroking his fingers over the dragon that curled over his collarbone and up his neck.

"Well spotted," Draco said, a smile in his voice.

He brushed his fingers over the snitch on Draco's chest, "I've got one of these, too," he murmured, leaning a bit so Draco can see the snitch he has on his own hip.

"Yes, I noticed," Draco replied, giving him a little smirk, "What does it say under it?"

"I open at the close," Harry said.

Draco hummed, "You'll have to tell me the story sometime."

"I'd like that," Harry told him, surprised to find that it was true since he'd never wanted to talk to anyone about the war. He trailed his fingers over the flower that had been tattooed over Draco's heart. "For your mum?" he asked.

He gave him a sad smile and nodded, "The black narcissus."

"These are for my parents," he told him, pointing to the antlers adorned with lilies along his collarbones.

"What are these ones?" he asked, trailing his fingers over the Marauder's map style footprints on his bicep and shoulder.

"These," he said, twisting to show Draco that they wrapped around his shoulder and onto his back, "are names of the people who have held me up, some of them still living, and others who live on in me." He grinned at him, "I'll show you the map they're modeled after the next time I have it out."

"Do you have any others?"

"Yeah," Harry said, collapsing onto his back so he could show Draco his ankle, "Deathly Hallows on my ankle."

Draco's fingers brushed lightly over his skin and Harry's spine tingled pleasantly.

"Do you have others?" he echoed

He nodded and rolled over onto his stomach and Harry had to hold back a gasp, "Beautiful," he whispered, trailing his fingers lightly over the wings covering Draco's shoulder blades.

"They're to remind me that I am free. I made my choice to fly instead of staying shackled."

"They're beautiful," Harry repeated.

Draco reached back and pointed to his neck and Harry's eyes followed to a compass. "To remind me that I choose the direction of my life from here on out."

"I love that," Harry replied, flopping back down on the bed next to Draco. "I'm planning my next one."

"Oh?" Draco asked, turning his head to the side and resting it on his forearms so he could look at Harry.

Harry nodded, "A constellation as well, Sirius, and wolfsbane incorporated somehow."

"Are all of yours for people, then?"

"Yeah," he replied, about to say more when the doorbell rang. "That'll be the pizza. Do you want to eat in here or in the kitchen?" he asked as he stood up and started looking for a pair of pants to put on to answer the door

"I should go-"

"Draco," he said, leaning in and stealing another kiss, "Stay. Please."

"For how long?" Draco asked.

The doorbell rang again and Harry stumbled into his boxers, "For as long as you want. Stay forever if you like."

And he was surprised to find that he was only half joking.

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Please go look at this GORGEOUS art by @pato-roldnart. I'm completely in awe of how talented they are. It's just like I imagined it and I am totally in love!

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Day 51: Parents | Day 53: First Anniversary

[sacredsorceress]

Paint || Peter Parker

pairing: peter parker x reader

summary: peter sees a figure walking through the trees during his run and investigates only to meet a girl named y/n painting in the woods.

a/n: requested by anon! a short and sweet meeting story.

word count: 2.1k

warnings: none, fluff

masterlist || request

Peter was almost regretting his decision to join the Avengers at the moment. Nearly getting himself killed dozens of times by adversaries was nothing compared to the run Cap had him and the other Avengers going on in what he considered to be the middle of nowhere. Although he had superhuman abilities that had definitely aided in his run at the beginning, he could feel himself struggling for air and his legs beginning to ache.

A few of the others had already fallen behind a while back and Peter felt himself about to trip over his own feet as he began to run slower.

“Getting tired?” None other than Steve himself asked, running up behind him.

Peter jumped, but then began to push himself to run faster. “N-no. No sir.” Peter huffed. “This... is... easy.”

Cap eyed Peter. “You should take a breather, kid. There’s no harm in that.”

Although Peter was always one to go out of his way to impress the Avengers- especially Captain America- he could barely breathe and his whole body felt like it was just begging for him to take a break.

“A- are you... sure?” Peter asked in between breaths.

“You know your way back?” Steve asked, matching Peter’s pace.

Peter, running out of breath, no longer able to speak just nodded.

“Alright kid. I’ll see you back at the Compound.”

And with that, he picked up his pace, leaving Peter behind. Peter slowed to a stop and doubled over with his hands on his knees, heaving and struggling for breath. He attempted to salute in Cap’s direction, but he had already run past Peter’s point of view.

Still breathing heavy and exhausted, Peter stumbled over to the side of the road and flopped down on his back onto the grass. He turned his head to the side and as he did he saw a figure making their way through the trees.

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “H- hey!” He called, but no one answered.

Peter pulled himself up, balancing himself on his elbows to get a better look before calling again. “Hello?”

After he once again did not receive an answer, he pulled himself onto his feet. He questioned whether he really did see someone or if the figure was just a figment of his imagination. He was unable to ask any of the others for reassurance since they either fell behind a while ago or they were ahead with Steve. Deciding to trust this own instincts, Peter began walking through the woods, using his “Peter tingle” as Aunt May liked to call it, to know where to go.

He stopped when he heard the snap of a twig and the rustling of leaves. Following the noise, he carefully walked over the branches scattered across the ground, not trying to alarm whoever he had just followed into the woods. As he approached where the noise had come from, he stopped and attempted to hide himself behind a tree.

In front of him he saw a girl pulling a chair up and off from the top of a table, onto the ground. He watched as she sat down in the chair, opening the bag at her side and pulling out a pad of paper, along with a tray of what he assumed to be paint and brushes. 

He knew he probably should have turned around and that this was an invasion of privacy, but he couldn’t help but watch as she painted. He was lured in by how peaceful she seemed. Around them was a peaceful quiet, with only the sounds of birds and the breeze flowing through the trees able to be heard. 

It was so much different than what he had been used to. Even before he discovered that he had superpowers, he had lived in the city and there seemed to never be a moment of complete silence- from sirens at all hours of the day to groups of people chatting outside his window at all hours of the night. He thought he had found peace in the noise, but he had barely known the peacefulness of quiet.

Now that he was Spider-Man, it was even harder to find peace whether he was in the city protecting locals or tagging along with the Avengers to save humanity. He was so busy all of the time, it was difficult for him to find peace and quiet, never mind the serenity he felt around him in this exact moment.

Just as he was becoming lost in his own thoughts, he was pulled out of them by the snapping of a twig beneath his feet. As he did, his eyes went wide and he watched as the unnamed girl, jumped from her seat to her feet, scattering brushes and papers along the ground.

He threw his hands up in the air. “I’m sorry!” He spoke.

“Who are you?” She asked. “Did you... did you follow me?”

He could tell her heart rate was speeding up, worried that some random boy had followed her into the woods. That’s fair, he thought.

“No!” He said, quickly. “I mean yeah- yes. But not in a creepy way! I just saw someone walk into the woods and I called and no one said anything so I- I just wanted to make sure that everything was okay.”

She just stared at him.

“You know what? I should go. Yeah. I’m gonna leave you alone.” He said, about to turn around.

“Wait.” She called, finally speaking up and stopping him. “Are you... an Avenger?” 

Now his heart was the one racing. “What? No!” He chuckled nervously. “Why... what would make you think that?”

She smiled, pointing at his t-shirt. “Because you have their logo on your shirt and it’s the only place out here for like a mile.”

Peter glanced down at the gray t-shirt he was wearing with the Avengers logo printed across his chest. Quickly, he attempted to spin a lie. “Oh this? No. Nope.” He shook his head. “I just... work... at the Avengers Compound. I... hand out waters and stuff to um Thor and ya know... other... people.”

There was a pause as the they stared at each other.

“I’m Y/n.” You told him, moving your hand out to shake his.

He calmed down as you introduced yourself and your own heart settled, knowing now that you weren’t scared of him- meaning you either believed what he said or just simply accepted his lie about working at the Avengers Compound. It wasn’t a whole lie, he told himself though. He did “work” there and occasionally, as the youngest person there, was asked to fetch water from time to time.

“Peter.” He said, taking your hand. “So... what are you doing out here?”

You then remembered what you had come out here for in the first place. You spun around turning back to look at your set up. “Oh!” You exclaimed. “I come out here sometimes to paint. It's really peaceful, you know?”

Peter nodded. He had just been thinking the same thing before he first saw you. It had been difficult for him to know peace for a long time, but here he felt as though he could breath even if it was for a short time.

“I know what you mean.” He told you, then glancing at the mess he had caused when he first spooked you. “Let me help.” He smiled, gesturing to the paint brushes and loose papers scattered along the floor.

You turned around, looking at the mess behind you. “You don’t have to. It’s okay!” You told him, striding over to your workspace and beginning to haphazardly organize the area.

Despite your assurances that you could clean up yourself, Peter followed behind you and began picking up your scattered paintings on the ground.

“You did all of these yourself?” He asked.

You watched as Peter stared at each of your quick paintings in his hand. He, admittedly, did not understand much about art, but he was in awe at the work he saw in front of him. The paintings he held in his hands depicted what he believed to be fairies sitting light as a feather on flowers and hidden in the trees. The design itself was soft and gentle and he was afraid to ruin something so precious in his hands. 

“Yeah,” You chuckled.

“They’re really good.” He told you, impressed. “I wish I could do stuff like this. How do you even do this?”

You smiled. A part of you was always nervous showing your paintings to someone else, especially a stranger, but it made you feel warm inside to have this cute, sweaty boy complimenting you on your art and impressed with your skill.

“Everyone has their thing.” You told him. “What about you?”

Peter then thought about his abilities, but for obvious reasons he couldn’t divulge on his strengths without the risk of exposing his identity. Although he couldn’t share that part of himself with you- someone he just met- it made him remember who he was without his abilities- the skills and talents he possessed without the assistance of an accidental spider bite.

“My friend and I build lego sets.” He shrugged.

“That can’t be it.” You laughed. “Come on! What are things you’re good at?”

Peter hadn’t been asked that question in regards to just himself in a while. He felt that people only cared about him recently because he was Spider-Man, not because he was Peter Parker. It felt good for someone to care about him for more than the things he couldn’t control.

“Sciency stuff I guess.” He told you as the two of you stood up and he handed you back your paintings.

You smiled, accepting the pages back and placing them on the table. “See! And you thought you weren’t good at anything.”

Peter smiled before scratching the back of his neck. “So... do you always hang out here in your free time?”

You sat back in your chair, this time organizing your desk space again. You placed your current work-in-progress in front of you and set out your paints. Taking a brush from one of those scattered across the table and dipping it in your desired color you laughed. “Not all the time. Why do you ask?”

Peter felt himself stiffen up. He knew why, but he didn’t want to say it out loud. It wasn’t often he met new people and felt comfortable enough around them, but around you, there was a carefree air. Although he had barely learnt anything about you besides your name and your inclination for painting in the wilderness, he wanted to learn more about you.

“Oh... well... you know...” He began. “Maybe we could hang out sometime? Not in the woods I mean. Not that there’s anything wrong with it! I just- you know-”

At that he heard the strokes of your brush halt on the page as you lifted it and set it down in the glass of water in front of you. You turned back in your chair to look at him, leaning your arm over the back of it. “Like a date?” You asked, cutting him off.

Even though Peter had been through a lot that most teenagers his age had never experienced- that some would even claim required an excessive amount of bravery- he still got flustered when you asked him whether it was a date or not. He thought you were interesting and wanted to get to know you regardless. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t interested in going on a date with you, but he also didn’t want to risk facing rejection and embarrassment.

What do you have to lose? He asked himself.

“I’m sorry if that was forward-” You began as he took a bit longer than you had anticipated for him to answer.

“Yeah. Like a date.” He cut you off. “If you want to anyway... you don’t have to.”

For what felt like the hundredth time since you first met him a few minutes ago, you smiled. “I’d like that.”

And with that you and Peter exchanged numbers before he insisted you go back to painting and that people would begin looking for him soon if he didn’t get back to his run. When his feet hit the road to start running again, he felt a new bolt of energy and pride rush through him as he thought about the cool painter girl’s number he had just gotten in the woods and the date he would share with you that upcoming weekend.

[hauntedmilkshake1]

Rich Boy, Rich tastes, Rich food, Richer waistlines.

(A gift for a very good friend of mine Jam! :D happy Bday!!!!!)

"Tch, you claimed you had an iron stomach and we're ONLY on the 6th plate; I thought you could your money where your mouth was by it seems your stomach says otherwise" Togami spat as he peered down at our main hope boy of the night.

Makoto; a boy filled with such gung ho and hope claimed at the start of the night that he could eat our a restaurant, his gluttonous appetite did shape up (and shape out) his quite portly figure.

Standing at a mediocre 5"3 Makoto was never one of the tallest of the bunch, always called the "little man"...however in recent times as Hope's peak has served our little man here with fancy cuisine and fine dining from all corners of the world. Although all the snacks, lunches and fancy parties have caved in on Makoto as his large appetite soon caught up to him dramatically and he went from a fairy built student to a jiggly ball of hopeful pudge, his mother's side definitely aided him here as his tummy and waist were his largest assets that made him stride wider than Niki manaj at the mat gala.

So when Togami offered a challenge to see if Makoto could live up to the "iron stomach" moniker; Makoto agreed to the challenge with glee but was soon to be met with true despair as his plate was met with the wildest and fanciest foods he'd ever laid eyes upon.

"What? Is cavier and pheasant wings too far fetched compared to a mcfillet and a bucket of KFC? Eat up hope boy because this is a simple starter" Togami smirked as he walked back into the dorm rooms kitchen, ushering around cooks whom no one knows where they came from. 

But Makoto was strong and held out for he would not be bested by some string bean rich boy! He'd faced challenges before! He could do anything he set his mind t-

He got 6 plates in and gave up and flopped in his chair after the dodo drumsticks came in.

Makoto groaned as his poor tummy struggled to churn all the rich and fancy ingredients floating inside him, his mind needed something simple to cleanse his tongue before he passed out from a food coma; god had striked a miracle as he remembered a simple banana milkshake placed in front of him he could quickly down.

Ignoring his belly that was already filling a divorce from how full it was he grabbed the glass and downed it immediately, forcing his tummy to expand further to make room for this chemically fruity concoction.

With a hearty belch and a sudden *POP* the button on Makotos pants finally succumbed to its doom and burst away and flew across the room causing his tummy to surge further out revealing its pink tinted dome to the outside air.

"Oooh god, much better but for what cost…" Makoto groaned again as he untucked his tummy fully and let it rest on his lap, it gurgling and complaining trying to process a whole ass fucking milkshake ontop of Gordon Ramsay's spotify food playlist!

"Makoto Naegi, a beacon of luck and hope; beaten by a simple milkshake...you know its customary in the Togami family that all can devour 3 times their weight at least once in their life, and you have a long way to go by pudgy friend" Togami sneered as he prodded Makotos firm stomach.

Togami lingered his gaze at the boy, The prodigy was never one to eye most commoners for too long; many either wanted his cash or his fame and he had no time to give them ANY second of his rich presence.

So then why did this boy stick to his mind like a leech so much?

Togami could never explain his odd fascination with Makoto, and when he started plumping up it was all he could really think about when food or Makoto or BOTH were around. In this instance Togami had Makoto right where he wanted him...but he had to be smart.

"I see since you're clearly too defeated by my culinary arts your stomach is working over time, it seems customary for me to at least get you out of my dining hall faster than on your own" Togami exclaimed as he sat beside Makoto and began to slowly massage the hope boys distended gut.

Makoto could barely react to Togamis sudden gesture before moaning in relief as a series of burps escaped his lips. Togami had surprisingly good movement of his hands as he circled and rubbed the flabby dome in front of him. 

A calming silence fell between the both of them as Makoto snuck glances at Togami whom seemed off in his own world as he never took his glance off of Makotos tummy.

"I'll never understand you, you weird ass rich boy" Makoto thought to himself as he leaned back a little.

Maybe he'd take up that challenge with Togami again tomorrow.

[jayeray-hq]

How He Shows You Affection: Kuroo Tetsurou

This one honestly really sucks to have to re-post because it did have a lot of notes thanks to the amazing people on Haikyuu Headquarters who helped me out. However I do want it to show up in the tags so here we are. 😢😢😢 Notes: 120

Post Time Skip/Manga Spoilers!

Warnings: Slight groping, very slight implied NSFW

How He Shows You Affection Masterlist - Character Masterlist

He Fusses Over You

            “Tetsurou?!” you asked more than a little shocked to see your boyfriend standing on your doorstep. You hadn’t expected him to come over, and you frantically wracked your brain trying to figure out if you’d forgotten something or maybe missed a message somewhere, but you were almost sure you hadn’t, “What are you doing here?”

“Aww Kitten, you make it sound like you’re not happy to see me,” he told you a teasing smile on his face, “You going to let me in?”

             “Of course, I’m happy to see you,” you told him taking a step back to let him in, “I just wasn’t expecting you.”

             Which was true. You’d specifically told him earlier that you’d be busy all day, working on a project, so you’d actually expected the opposite, that you wouldn’t get to see him until tomorrow.

             “I know,” he told you sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck as he eyed you from beneath his bangs, “But I was in the area, thought I’d stop by and see if you’d eaten yet? I brought food.”

             He held up the bag he had in one of his hands that you’d failed to notice, holding it out to you like a peace offering. You immediately noticed the logo on the bag was from one of your favorite take out places, and your heart stomach immediately rumbled eagerly, making you blush. You’d gotten so caught up in your project that you hadn’t actually stopped to eat and were only just belatedly realizing that you were starving.

             “I’ll take that as a no you haven’t,” your boyfriend told you a slightly scolding tone to his voice that made you rather sheepish in turn, “Come on kitten let’s get you fed.”

             You conceded with good grace, and the two of you went to the kitchen. You were even hungrier than you’d initially thought and eagerly dug into your food as your boyfriend watched on, looking half amused, half exasperated.

             “You really need to learn to take breaks,” he told you a concerned frown on his face, “Or at least eat snacks. Going without eating for so long lowers your blood sugar and makes it harder for you to concentrate so it’s better to stop and eat.”

             “You’re one to talk,” you told him amused.

             “Hey I may not take breaks, but I have mastered the art of eating and working at the same time,” he defended with a grin.

             “Tell that to the report you dripped ramen broth all over,” you sassed back.

             “That was one time,” he protested.

             “Crumbs in my couch,” you listed off on your fingers, unable to resist teasing him, “barbeque sauce on your shirt, rice on the floor.”

             “Okay, okay more than once,” he admitted wryly, “But at least I can say I actually eat!”

             You huffed but couldn’t argue with that. He was actually pretty good about his meals, and usually kept an enormous bottle of water and a thermos of tea around too whenever he had long projects.

             “Have a glass of water too,” he told you standing walking to the sink to fetch you just that, clearly reading your mind, “It’s important to keep hydrated!”

             You indulged him, drinking the water he offered and finishing your food all under his watchful eye. Once you’d finished eating he helped you clean up quickly, and paused one last time by the door.

             “Don’t stay up too late,” he told you cupping your cheeks in his palms and affectionately running his thumbs over your cheekbones, “Get at least seven hours of sleep.”

             “I’ll do my best,” you assured him amused and feeling extremely warm and loved from his clear concern for you, moving to press your lips to his in a quick kiss goodbye, a gesture he eagerly accepted, holding you close for several long minutes before reluctantly drawing apart.

             “Keep drinking water,” he insisted as he pulled his shoes on, “Or tea. Call me if you need anything. I’ll keep my phone close.”

             “Okay Tetsu,” you agreed indulgently as you gently shooed him out the door, “I will.”

             “Okay,” he agreed, “Text me goodnight will you, so I know you actually went to bed?”

             “I will,” you assured him again, letting out a huff of amusement, “Really Tetsu you worry too much.”

             “Only for you kitten,” he retorted with a grin, the same one that never failed to make your heart melt.

             “Yeah, yeah,” you told him, though the soft smile on your face undoubtedly gave away your real feelings about the matter

 “I love you,” he told you seriously, pausing in his trip out the door so he could look you in the eye as he said it.

             “I love you too,” you returned, giving him one last quick kiss goodbye, unable to resist stealing another, “I’ll see you tomorrow alright?”

             “Alright,” he agreed, clearly still a little reluctant, though he did leave in the end. You immediately turned to get back to work on your project, feeling incredibly warm, full, well rested, and ready to get back to work. More importantly you felt absolutely loved, and you made a mental note to return the favor sometime soon, for your amazingly sweet boyfriend.

  <b>He Teases You (and Secretly Loves if You Tease Back)</b>

             “Having trouble there kitten?” your boyfriend asked startling so much you nearly fell over, flopping down on to the couch with an unhappy pout on your lips. You’d been trying to move the extremely heavy piece of furniture for over five minutes now and were on the verge of giving up. You’d been so engrossed in your task that you hadn’t even heard your boyfriend come home from work.

             When you glanced up at him he was leaned against the doorway, still in his suit jacket from work, though his tie was loose around his neck, and his arms were folded across his chest. He had an extremely amused look on your face that told you he’d probably been watching you for a while.

             You didn’t bother to answer his question, considering it had a very obvious answer, and you knew any response out of your mouth was bound to get you teased so you chose to say nothing at all. Not that, that stopped his smile from stretching even wider across his mouth, apparently well aware of your tactics and highly amused by them.

             “What are you trying to move the couch for anyway?” he asked curiously.

             “I dropped one of my earrings,” you admitted with a sigh, figuring there was no point in hiding it from him, especially since you were doubtless going to need his help to get it, “And I can’t reach it.”

             “Oya? That is a problem,” Kuroo told you with a mischievous smile on his face, “If only there was a strong, handsome gentleman around to help you with that.”

             “If only,” you lamented, not about to let him get away with teasing you completely, “Do you think Yaku would come over if I asked?”

             “Yaku?” Kuroo sputtered the teasing smile falling off his face replaced with indignation, “You’d call Yaku for help?”

             “Oh how about Lev!” you proposed unable to help your own wide impish smile, “Lev would help me if I asked I’m sure of it!”

             “Lev?” he repeated incensed, “Lev wouldn’t help kitten, he’d probably trip over the couch or break it!”

             You couldn’t hold in your giggles at that earning a huff from your boyfriend who informed you, “You’re a cruel kitten, teasing me this way.”

             “It’s your fault,” you informed him faux haughtily sticking your nose in the air, “You should’ve just helped me instead of teasing me.”

             “Alright, budge up then kitten, let’s get your earring,” he told you straightening up, and pulling off his suit jacket an amused smirk on his face.

             You did as he asked, watching with a slight pout as he easily scooted the couch away to reveal your missing earring. However you didn’t move to grab it right away slightly distracted by the flex of his shoulders beneath the white button up he was wearing, which was incredibly enticing.

             “See something you like?” he asked pulling you away from your ogling a proud smirk on his lips, that told you he knew exactly what you’d been doing.

             “Mm, always Tetsu,” you assured him, knowing that sometimes the best way to deal with his teasing was with complete and utter sincerity, letting your hand caress his back as you moved to grab your earring, and feeling rather cheeky let it slip lower to give him a firm squeeze earning a surprised inhale from your boyfriend.

 You smiled triumphantly as you backed away, inspecting the recovered bit of jewelry pleased to have it back in your possession and to find it hadn’t suffered for its brief time under the couch.

             However, you nearly dropped it again as you were abruptly scooped off your feet and dumped on to the couch, making you yelp in surprise, an amused grin touching your lips as you saw your boyfriend hovering over you.

             “You shouldn’t tease me like that kitten,” he scolded lightly, his eyes alight with affection and desire.

             “Oh?” you teased, well aware that you were pushing his buttons, “What are you going to do about it Tetsu?”

             Needless to say you lost the earring again and had to make your boyfriend move the couch again later to retrieve it as he showed you exactly what he meant to do about it.

  <b>He Always Has to be Touching You</b>

             “Hey everyone,” you greeted cheerfully, as you and your boyfriend slid into the seats that had been saved for the two of you at the monthly gathering of his former volleyball team.

             The group returned your greetings, all of them well used to your presence by now, as you’d been attending them for over a year now. The minute the two of you were settled in your seats Kuroo had his arm thrown over the back of yours, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder, absently playing with your shirt collar and gently rubbing your shoulder as the two of you caught up with the rest of the group.

             You talked quietly with Kenma about his latest stream, and how his business had been doing, leaning over to watch the new game he was playing on his phone. The instant you were no longer in contact with the hand he’d had on your shoulder Kuroo’s arm shifted to keep touching you his hand finding the back of your neck, thumb gently playing with the small hairs there and gently massaging every now and then.

             When your food came he removed his arm, apparently not even noticing as he absently set his palm on your thigh under the table, while the group listened to Kai tell them about his new store where he’d be selling plants and flowers, which had been his dream for a long time now.

             Throughout the reunion he never really took his hands off of you absently holding your hand, brushing his arm up against yours, pressing your thighs together under the table, nothing too big or noticeable, but constant and reassuring.

             “The two of you are really disgusting you know,” Yaku informed you suddenly, surprising you.

             “Disgusting?” you repeated more than a bit baffled by this abrupt turn in conversation.

             “It’s gross how absolutely cutesy you act,” he expanded rolling his eyes.

             “Cutesy?” you asked turning your gaze to your boyfriend who looked partially amused, partially confused, apparently not sure what Yaku was talking about either.

             “Don’t be jealous Yaku,” Kuroo told his friend faux brightly, never missing a chance to needle him despite his confusion, “I’m sure you won’t be sad and single forever. There has to be someone out there who will have you.”

             It was more than enough to set the libero off, informing Kuroo that he was more than capable of getting a partner of his own if he wanted to, he just didn’t want to right now because of his thriving career. He honestly played right into Kuroo’s hands, as your boyfriend kept gleefully jabbing away at one of his favorite victims. Meanwhile you turned your gaze to someone far more sensible.

             “Are we really disgusting?” you asked Kenma quietly, a little concerned.

             “It’s fine,” he assured you firmly, eyes not leaving his phone as he answered your question, “It’s not like your PDA is any worse than any other couple’s, your just very consistent about it is all.”

             “PDA?” you repeated baffled, your genuine confusion catching his attention his amber eyes flicking up to study yours intently for a moment before seemingly realizing your confusion was genuine.

             “You’re always touching,” Kenma explained patiently, “Even now you’re touching, though I think it’s more Kuroo’s fault than yours. He reaches for you.”

             You wanted to protest that you weren’t always touching, but then realized you couldn’t especially when even though he’d removed his hand from your thigh to gesture rather rudely at Yaku, he still had his own pressed to yours.

             Curiously you scooted away so you weren’t touching anymore, moving closer to Kenma. However, seconds later he followed, not even seemingly to notice as he shifted closer to you, his attention never deviating from his conversation with Yaku. You did it again, with the same results, and again, and again. He always seemed to seek you out, though on the last one his hand had dropped to catch your own, twining his fingers through yours as if to keep you from moving further.

             You let out a small huff of surprise and amusement, gently squeezing his hand in fondness, your heart feeling like it was about to melt at how surprisingly cute his actions were, especially if they really were automatic. The gesture caught your boyfriend’s attention and he broke off his conversation with Yaku to look at you, a slightly puzzled frown on his face.

             “Everything alright kitten?” he asked, “Did you need something?”

             “No,” you assured him with an affectionate smile, “I’m good, great even.”

             “Oh?” he prompted, clearly curious, though he returned your smile with his own fond look, his eyes soft as he watched you.

             “It’s nothing,” you told him with a grin, “You’re just really cute Tetsu.”

             “That’s nice and all,” Kenma told you before your boyfriend had a chance to respond, cutting off what was no doubt going to be some kind of teasing remark, “But can you move? The two of you are squishing me.”

             “Whoops, sorry Kenma,” you apologized unable to help the amused smile as you realized you’d basically been half sitting in the poor man’s lap in your quest to see Kuroo chase after you.

             The former setter merely rolled his eyes in response, though you could see a hint of amusement on his face as you informed your boyfriend it was all his fault for squishing the two of you given that he was the biggest, while he protested rather vehemently, pouting at you the whole time, and claiming innocence.

             Meanwhile you filed another thing you loved about your boyfriend away in your heart, feeling incredibly lucky to have him.

[pillage-and-lute]

An Ever Fixed Mark (Part 10)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9,

Read it on Ao3 HERE

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Geralt awoke slowly, not sure how he’d managed to fall asleep, but his hands were warm. His hands were still clutched around Jaskier’s hand, but blue eyes were meeting his. 

It was evening, the small window dark outside, but someone, probably Yennefer, had placed a small candle on the washstand that was the only other furniture in the room. It lit Jaskier with a warm and golden glow. His eyes were bleary, his hair spread across the pillow like a dark halo. 

“G’ralt.”

“I’m here,” Geralt whispered, relief doing the job of several hours of sleep and a good meal. 

“You’re here,” Jaskier said. His voice was weak, but his heartbeat was stronger than before, taking up it’s familiar place in the background noises of Geralt’s life. 

Jaskier kicked feebly at the blankets around his legs and Geralt pulled the blankets back. Jaskier was just in his smallclothes, a bloody bandage wrapped around his thigh, bright red and fading to pink where less blood seeped through.

“Ow,” Jaskier said.

“More than ow,” Geralt grumbled. He began to stand up, Jaskier’s bandages needed changing, and he meant to fetch Yennefer, but she swept through the doorway before he could even fully straighten. 

“Wow,” Jaskier muttered. “Hello, beautiful and, oh, stunningly violet-eyed lady, but as I’m married, may I ask for some trousers?”

“Not with a ten-foot pole, bard,” Yennefer snapped. “And no trousers, you’ll mess with the wound.” She began to change the bandages with ill-tempered movements that were, nevertheless, gentle. 

Jaskier blanched as he saw the, frankly, gaping wound in his thigh, but he smiled wanly and tipped his head up to Geralt. “I’ll finally have a battle scar, just like you.”

Geralt knelt again, swiping Jaskier’s hair back from his slightly sweaty forehead. “I hope this is the only one you ever have.”

Jaskier grimaced, his eyes were going glazed over as exhaustion and pain caught up with him again. “Me too,” he whispered, settling more fully back into the pillow.

“Jaskier,” Geralt said urgently. He had to say something, had to let Jaskier know. “I swear,” he swallowed and clutched Jaskier’s hand again. “I promise to you, on the swords I wear at my back, to do the right thing for you. I promise I will always think of you, and hold you dear to me.” Geralt knew his shoulders were shaking, because he knew the ultimate betrayal he was going to commit. “Everything I do for you will be for your own good.”

Jaskier smiled and patted Geralt’s cheek sweetly, his hand uncoordinated, but warm. “That’s nice, my husband.” Jaskier’s eyes slid closed. “Hero,” he murmurred, turning over.

Geralt glanced up. Yennefer was staring at him with wide, purple eyes. He wasn’t quite sure why, but he felt an overwhelming urge to give her a hug. Given that this course of action would probably result in being turned into something amphibian, he didn’t.

“You just,” she said, looking at him as if he were the dumbest thing on earth. “You just swore your affection for me.”

Geralt returned the look. “I wasn’t even talking to you.”

Yennefer smacked him over the head, not terribly hard, but emphatically. “Didn’t you feel it you great...you giant LUMP of a foolish witcher? His great windfall,” she pointed at Jaskier, perfectly lacquered nails glinting menacingly in the candlelight. “His great windfall is now mine, you just swore to love me.”

They gaped at one another in the dim light, golden eyes meeting purple.

“Fuck.”

Yennefer just nodded her agreement.

They sat, backs against the side of the bed, staring at the wall. Jaskier turned over a little, his warm breath ruffling Geralt’s hair. 

“I still love him,” Geralt said.

“How can you tell?”

Jaskier made a disgusting snorfulling noise and flopped yet again, his elbow conking the back of Geralt’s head. Geralt looked over at him as he drooled somewhat.

“Because I think he’s beautiful like this.”

Yennefer snorted. “If that’s love I don’t want it, but your feelings for him don’t have to be erased for you to be my lover of surprise.”

Geralt rested his head in his hands.

“I’m not a homewrecker,” Yennefer said.

Geralt glanced up at her. “Never?”

She shrugged. “Maybe sometimes, but not now. I don’t want to take you from your husband.”

“We’re married for political reasons. It wasn’t a love match.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Geralt chuckled bitterly. “Yeah, I didn’t plan on him being so...”

“So stupid?”

“Yeah, a little bit. No self preservation, no filter, no understanding of personal space. Endless enthusiasm for the most dangerous parts of my job. Desperate for attention all the time. Ability to speak to the dead...”

“That last one is a joke,” Yennefer said, snorting.

“No.”

“A poet, then. And a good one?”

“Apparently.”

“Damn.”

They stayed, staring at the wall until Geralt’s stomach growled. 

“Stew,” Yennefer said. She stood and left the room.

Geralt looked at Jaskier, still drooling into the borrowed pillow. Although his words had bound him to Yennefer, he hoped Jaskier would remember them, remember that they were meant for him, because Geralt was going to do what he fully should have done the day they left Chateau Lettenhove, and leave Jaskier behind.

Geralt trudged downstairs. The thought of leaving Jaskier ached, but the bard had never really been his to keep. 

Yennefer set a bowl of stew down in front of him so hard it slopped over onto the table. 

“So,” she said. “What are you going to do?”

Geralt shrugged and she huffed. 

“Don’t make me hex you,” she said. Her eyes narrowed. “You’re going to leave the boy, aren’t you?”

Geralt shrugged again. When it didn’t satisfy he said, “I’m not good for him.”

“He doesn’t seem to think so.”

“He thinks a griffin would make a nice pet.”

Yennefer snickered. Geralt liked the way she laughed, and she was pretty, her purple eyes were striking, but he couldn’t help but think how he liked blue eyes so much better. 

He wished he didn’t know exactly why blue had become his preference.

“I’m not keeping him if you leave him here,” Yennefer said. “I don’t need a puppy and I don’t like music.”

“He has a friend here.”

“That’s good, do you know anything about the friend, or were you just going to drop him in the center of the city and hope they stumble into eachother?”

“Her name’s Essi. She’s pretty and a bard.”

Geralt finished his stew without saying more. He remembered how Jaskier had extolled Essi’s virtues. Her talent, style, her remarkable beauty. He’d told a story of how Essi had gotten them out of a bit of a fix with a rowdy drunk.

Between her and Jaskier’s skill with a fish knife, he’d be fine.

He’d be better than fine, he’d be with people like him who knew art and music and liked fine clothes and fine wine. He’d never be sliced open by bandits or slashed by some dreadful monster. 

Geralt rose from Yennefer’s table and walked back up the stairs to the little room. Jaskier seemed to be asleep still, blankets tangled around him. Geralt had brought his bags from their camp and set them and his lute in the corner. One of the bags had a bit of white cloth peeking out. 

Geralt pulled at it. It was from Jaskier’s wedding outfit. a little scrap of the lining was loose and slightly tattered. On an impulse, Geralt tugged at it. A piece, only a few centimeters square, came loose in his hand. Geralt stared at it, pale and fluttering slightly. 

Jaskier had been so beautiful that day, and he’d laughed when Geralt danced with him. There was music playing in the sleeping city, blowing in through the window and Geralt wished he could have just one more dance. 

He tucked the tiny fabric scrap into his black leather bracer. 

Yennefer was standing in the doorway. 

“Can you find Essi Daven for me?” He asked. 

“I already have,” she said, stepping forward, into Geralt’s space.

Geralt nodded at her, feeling the warmth of being around her, the affection blooming around their linked destinies. 

“I was thinking,” she said. “What you said earlier, to him, you promised to care for him.”

“I did.”

Yennefer’s lips were red painted and perfect. 

Geralt sensed her move before she even began, her arms came up and his hands went into her thick, dark hair.

It was a good kiss, full and passionate without being indecent. 

It wasn’t a great kiss.

Geralt pulled away as Yennefer did and felt no compulsion to lean back in for another one. 

“Um,” came a small, hesitant voice from the bed. Geralt turned.

Jaskier was looking at them, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. 

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, beginning to step forward. 

“I would like to wash my face,” Jaskier said, without intonation. “Since I’m rather undressed, I’d like privacy, please.”

Geralt took the dismissal for what it was, stepping out into the thin hallway with Yennefer at his side. 

“I didn’t know he was awake,” she whispered on the edge of hearing. “I wouldn’t have--”

Geralt shrugged minutely. “He and I aren’t like that,” he whispered back, wary of the bard awake just feet away. He knew the sentence was a lie. Geralt hadn’t even thought of going to a brothel for a long time. Jaskier flirted with everyone and never did more. 

“I don’t love you,” Yennefer breathed. “You swore to protect and care for him, you never said love.”

“I never said love,” Geralt whispered back.

“I don’t want to kiss you.”

“No,” Geralt confirmed. “No more kisses.”

“You should explain--”

“No.” Geralt swallowed as he remembered Jaskier’s expression. Hurt, just for a brief flash of a second, heartbreak. “It’s better this way, a clean break.”

“It’s cruel.”

“It’s better if he hates me.” The thought burned like venom.

“What about your political marriage.” Yennefer made it clear that she didn’t think their marriage was all that political.

The hidden fidelity clause. Geralt cursed himself for forgetting, but so long as word never got back to Lettenhove it was fine.

“If he’s discreet it will never come up,” he said to Yennefer. She looked doubtful, lips pursing around something she didn’t say. She pushed a little box into his hands.

“A xenovox,” she said. “Since you’re destined to like and protect me.”

Geralt gave her a small smile and a nod.

Inside Jaskier’s room, something heavy hit the floor. Geralt went to push the door open, heart hammering, picturing Jaskier fainting from blood loss or putting too much weight on his bad leg.

Yennefer stopped him with a hand on his chest. “If you want a clean break...”

Geralt nodded. He caught a glimpse of Jaskier, on the floor but concious, as he walked away. 

Geralt wished he hadn’t been able to smell the salt of tears. 

Roach whinnied at him when he greeted her. She was stabled near the edge of the city at a rundown inn. He’d stabled Thunderbolt closer to Yennefer’s lodgings. Geralt accepted Roach’s headbuts, raising a hand to pet her soft muzzle, then pressing a kiss to the white on her forehead. He was exhausted, eyes sliding closed even as he stood there, smelling the familiar smells of horses and clean hay. 

Roach leaned her head over his shoulder, looking around.

“No Jaskier,” he whispered. She flicked her ear. “No Thunderbolt.” 

Roach looked at him and Geralt couldn’t help but feel that it was somewhat accusatory. She blinked her long eyelashes at him and he shrugged, scrubbing his hand over his face. 

Brushing Roach’s mane wasn’t really necessary. The stable boy had taken one look at Geralt, who was still covered in Jaskier’s blood, and terror had ensured that Roach would be the best cared for mare in Oxenfurt. 

Geralt had tipped the boy extra too. 

Geralt brushed her mane anyway, not ready to sleep in a tiny, dirty bed all alone. He hummed lightly to her

Toss a coin to your witcher...

The song had grown on him, like moss, or a horrible fungal disease. 

Geralt went through his familiar motions as he cared for his horse and got ready for bed. The watchful eyes of the inn patrons followed him but he didn’t care. He felt hollowed out, like someone had cut him open and removed something important before sewing him up.

The bed was, indeed, tiny. Geralt’s feet hung slightly off the end when he laid straight, so he curled on his side. He would leave first thing in the morning. Maybe he’d head north early this year, there was no reason he couldn’t go to Kaer Morhen early. Vesemir would probably be glad for help with repairs.

Vesemir had liked Jaskier. 

Jaskier had liked Vesemir too, he’d gotten along with all the wolves, even Lambert. And he’d been so excited when Geralt said he’d bring him to the keep. 

Geralt thought about the library of the keep, all those books that hardly ever even got seen. He could picture the large wooden desk beside the fire where he was sure Jaskier would sit. Or maybe they’d bring up one of the few couches and they could sit there together. Jaskier would talk about what he’d learned or the new song he was composing with his head resting in Geralt’s lap as the fire crackled.

It would never happen now. 

Geralt had broken Jaskier’s heart. And he’d done it on purpose. He hadn’t meant for Jaskier to see him kiss Yennefer, hadn’t really ever meant for there to be a kiss with Yennefer. But Jaskier had told him not to leave him so many times. He’d said he didn’t want to be abandoned or dropped off or gotten rid of. 

Geralt didn’t think he’d ever be able to rid himself of thoughts of Jaskier. The damn bard would walk the path beside him every day until Geralt’s death, without ever needing to be present. 

Geralt had to leave Jaskier though. Next time the wound could be to his jugular, to his heart. Had the crossbow bolt hit just slightly to the side it would have been an artery and Jaskier would have bled out onto the grass in minutes. 

Geralt stared at the cieling. 

“I feel you should know that I didn’t like doing that.”

Yennefer’s voice came from the little box resting on the table. Geralt sat up.

“Doing what?”

“I just dropped your husband off with Essi,” Yennefer said. Geralt winced at the reminder. Husband. “He was crying. I don’t do crying. He nearly got snot on my dress.”

Geralt’s heart twisted in his chest. “He’ll be happier with her,” he said.

“Maybe, he greeted her as ‘little sister’ so they must be close.”

Little sister. Geralt had thought that Essi meant something else to Jaskier but...but he really didn’t have any right to care who meant what to the man.

“Thank you,” Geralt said.

“For what it’s worth, I think you’re being stupid.”

Geralt hummed. He stared at the little box on the table, feeling even worse than before. After a long time he spoke.

“I think I’ve been very stupid already.”

He didn’t know if Yennefer was still listening. 

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Shorter chapter, but that’s where this one needed to end I think. They’ll figure it out. Also, now Geralt has one (1) destiny guaranteed friend. 

Vibe for this chapter: Evermore from Beauty and the Beast.

Tag List!

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[sansmania]

its o VER WHY WAS THIS SO LONG? 

part 1 | part 2 | art that goes with the fic

Title: Your Man

Ship: Boss [ @bonelyheartsclub ]/ GN Reader

Descrip: take it im drifting out to sea because HES GONNA BE A COWBOY thE END

Willie had taken his time to take in the damage done to the beloved boots, tutting and frowning at the holes and shredded leather.

"Oh yeah, I can fix 'em for ya, but it'll take a few days, Mr. Boss. That lil' dog did a number to these." Boss exhaled through his nasal bone with a silent nod. It seems 'Toby' had also managed to dislodge some of the pins that held the heels in, which would mean the boots needed to be completely stripped and rebuilt from the sole up.

"That is fine, I suppose. They mean a great deal to me, so take the time you need to get them back to perfect condition." He seemed a bit emotional about leaving the boots behind, and you gently assured the skeleton that they were in skilled hands. Leaving his contact information, the two of you turned to leave. 

Until a bony hand grabbed your neckline again.

"You said this store specializes in leather and boots, correct?"

"Yes?" You held the word out longer than necessary, red pinpricks looking down at you, then to the fluorescent shoes between you.

"I would like to peruse them, then. It would not hurt for me to have a few more sets, anyway. And I am beyond done with these sneakers. I feel like one of those fictional circus clowns."

You bit your tongue at his presumption, knowing Boss wouldn't listen to a word you had to say on the subject, and accepted your fate in the tobacco and wood lacker scented hell.

After a bit of searching, pausing only to laugh at some of the ridiculous 'southern fact' signs they had decorating a shelf, the pair of you found the boot section of the large store.

"Human, I highly doubt if Texas were real, that it would home ninety percent of the planet's spider population." You couldn't help the snort that came out at Boss' comment as he walked over to the wall of shoes.

His eyelights were transfixed on the detailed stiches in some of the leather boots. His phalanges traced over a pair that had some gaudy gems placed into them- a pair that had studs- red stained leather- black snake skin. He was strangely silent as he looked over each set with wonder.

You didn't think any of them were Boss' style, to be honest. They were about classic as classic cowboy boots get- you could have sworn you even spotted a pair made of alligator skin.

"These." He finally spoke, pulling down one of the only sets that seemed to be ankle high. They were a deep maroon, black stitching along the sides and folds, and a very obvious steel toe embedded inside. There were a few gold embellishments and you felt they were gaudy as all hell.

But, that expression of wonder in Boss' eyes made him look like a child on gyftmas morning.

It was cute.

He was cute.

"I mean, sure, if you're into red, black and gold-" The skeleton flicked his eyes towards you, making your mouth snap shut. He took a seat on a nearby bench, listlessly kicking off the offending accessories to try the new boots on.

Boss became silent once again, taking in the shine of leather as he tilted his feet and legs to get a good look at them.

"There is a mirror over there." You mention, pointing a few feet away, and he stood up to admire the shape of the shoes. And while he did so, you also found yourself admiring him.

Boss was very tall- even without the help of his stiletto heels- and his broad shoulders squared in perfect posture made almost anything he wore look breathtaking. His choice of attire today fit snuggly against his ribcage, tapering down his spine- making Boss look, pun intended, skeleton thin. Tight, but soft, leather pants hugged his narrow hips and bony legs, perfectly shaping his body.

"Hmm. A bit lower than what I am used to, but they are quite fetching on me. What do you think, human?"

He caught you staring, once again, in the mirror- just as your eyes had been slowly trailing down his legs, brain becoming grey mush. You curse quietly, turning your head away with a mutter of agreement.

"Sadly, they do not match the rest of my attire. I should see if they have apparel here to compliment my figure and accessories." He made an amused sound when you cocked your head at the suggestion, cheeks burning with new fervor.

Oh. He knew exactly what he was doing now. Boss wouldn't even play with the idea if any of his family was around, but since it was just the two of you, he was going to continue his sadistic game.

When you had first met Boss, you would have sworn he didn't have a playful bone in his body- the serious tone and way he carried himself made it seem he was all work and no play. But, as you got to know him, his true colors seemed to blossom forth. Yes, he hated puns, that didn't mean he had no sense of humor. His humor was dry and a little cynical- and you had nearly soiled yourself in laughter when he cracked his first joke around you.

He also found Blue and Nox's rivalry amusing, egging them on at times just to get under their skin.

And when then two of you were alone, he was much more relaxed, allowing more of his jovial side to come out. Sometimes it was a welcome blessing and sometimes it was not.

As it was at your expense today, it was one of those times that his sense of humor didn't delight.

"Uh, s-sure. Why not? Let's find you a nice pair of chaps-" Boss' amused smile caught you off guard as he held a hand up to stop you from moving. You had hoped he would allow you to help, maybe in a way save yourself from this horrible fate.

"No, I believe I can handle dressing myself just fine. Though, I will listen to your opinion after I have chosen an outfit." The smirk didn't go away as you made a noise of disdain. The skeleton sauntered off on his own, leaving you to scream internally at being caught red handed and was going to make you suffer for it.

When he turned a corner, you were on your feet- tossing the old converse in your inventory- and did your best to sneak around the store behind the him. Occasionally, Boss would turn his head out of suspicion, causing you to duck behind a shelf, while he thumbed through the racks of clothes.

He was enjoying teasing you like this, smirk still apparent on his face. You were by no means subtle, so Boss knew you were tailing him around, and that only added to his amusement.

You peeked over a row of jackets that were fastened with tassels while Boss sifted through some button up shirts. His foot tapped along to the music with perfect rhythm, though, you were more shocked when his low voice was barely audible.

He was quietly singing along to the tune.

Boss Gothic Serif.

Was singing country.

And he knew you were watching and listening.

The next time he glanced over his shoulder, Boss caught your reddened face as a devious smile curled on his skull. He knew exactly what he was doing.

"Human, I have picked out a suitable ensemble. Feel free to wait there for me to change." You didn't hide this time when he spoke up, accepting defeat, stepping out to follow the monster towards the changing rooms.

You knew from the first day of meeting these skeletons that they would be the death of you. You just didn't expect it to be in a dime store cowboy shop in the city.

Flopping down on another bench, you waited for death to finish his wardrobe swap and drag you to the dark depths- knowing now that he was going to be dressed like a cowboy with Shania Twain playing gently to send you off.

The shuffle of cloth behind the barn themed doors caught your attention, the soft click of bones on wood as a lock was lifted and the doors swung open.

Words choked in your mouth as it hung ajar, Boss stepping out of the small room with the most smug look on his face you had ever seen him muster.

His head was tilted down ever so slightly, burning red eyes shaded by the black hat atop his skull. Your eyes dragged down to the crisp maroon and black button up, gold skull bola tie strung in the collar and rested on his nearly bare breastbone.

The shirt was rolled at the sleeves, showing off his battle scarred hands and arms, and the tail tucked neatly into a pair of tight black dyed jeans; adorned and held up by a red leather belt that had a large gold skull buckle to keep it all together. The jeans hugged the skeleton's frame all the way down to the coordinated boots.

Boss leaned against the doorframe, taking in your reaction with sadistic glee; How you couldn't form a single word in appreciation to his wardrobe selection. How your face was red enough to put his shirt to shame. How your eyes lingered over the single undone button at his clavicle.

How your reaction made his soul thrum with pride.

"Comments?" He finally spoke, beyond amused at the way you startled to his rough voice- dropping it an octave or two, successfully getting further reactions out of you. Finally, you managed to swallow the hard, dry lump that formed in your throat, tearing your gaze away to look back to Boss' expecting eyes.

You coughed and looked away

"Yee. Haw?" Was all you could manage as he stepped forward, boots loudly clacking against the hardwood floor. The terrifying skeleton you called a friend, and obviously waxed red towards, stopped mere feet before you, dragging your attention back to him.

"Is that all you have to say? I would appreciate some feedback, maybe I should make another selection if this doesn't suit me-"

"No, don't!" You found your voice as Boss turned heel to find something else to fluster you with. He quirked a brow ridge at your outburst, returning to his previous position, arms crossed as he awaited to hear your real feelings. 

"You. You look good, Boss." You did your best to hold your voice steady as his gaze made you shrink into the bench, like you were going to become a permanent fixture in the store.

"Just ‘good’?" Oh, he was going to make you suffer. Breathing hard through your nose, you looked back up at him. Boss already knew how you felt, so this was just torture to feed his ego.

And you may as well feed it.

"Fine." There was a pause as you found the words. “You look amazing. Handsome. Stunning.” You could feel your face and neck darkening with each admission- at this point, had you even been referring to just how he looked now? He seemed to preen at each compliment, all too pleased to drink in your words of praise.

"Then I do believe I will purchase these items. They may be in start contrast to the rest of my wardrobe, but some variety in life never hurts."

It was interesting to watch Boss fannagle with the cashier about buying all the clothes items while he was still in them- but he managed to do it, and in style, if you were honest.

With his boots squared away, clothes tucked into his inventory, and you at his side, Boss literally strutted out of the store- leading you both back to his car.

"Human, you make it so easy to fluster you, you do realize that." Boss' smile from before had not left his features, even as you pulled into the culdesac in which you lived.

"Yeah, I'm aware, Boss." You heaved a final embarrassed sigh as the car came to a stop at your curb. Gathering your belongings, and what little bit of pride you had left, the car door swung open and you turned back to him. "Tease the human that has feelings for you. Ha, ha."

"But, uh." You pause, leaning on the door to look Boss in the eyes.

"Have fun getting into your room before Red or Stretch see you, Cowboy."

[undercoveravenger]

Muses

Pairing: Reggie x Reader

Requested: Yes

Original Request: “Could I request a Reggie x male reader. Where he’s Julie's brother and after their mom’s death he picked up painting and he can see Reggie and stuff and Reggie just hangs around him and makes him laugh and stuff.”

A/N: Not going to lie, I’m not super happy with this one but it’s been sitting in my drafts for weeks so I decided I just needed to finish it and get it posted. I hope you guys like it anyway!

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

The first day you met Reggie was a few days after Julie started singing again. You’d been in your room alone, staring blankly at an empty canvas. You had been meaning to work on your painting for your art class for weeks now, but you hadn’t been able to think of what to paint. Every day, you’d pull out your brushes and lay out your paints, but day after day the canvas remained just as blank as the day before.

Then one day as you were contemplating the way the colors should've been blooming over the canvas by now, a voice sounded from behind you. “Oh, a painter, huh? Man, this whole family is so talented!”

You twisted around to face the voice, eyes widening as you came face to face with a boy you’d never met. He seemed to be about your age, with dark hair that’d been slicked back out of his face and curious dark brown eyes that were fixed on you. “Who- who are you?”

His eyes widened almost comically, “You can see me?”

“Why wouldn’t I be able to?” You replied, glancing around warily, half expecting a camera crew to pop out and tell you that you’d been pranked.

The stranger blinked, clearly having anticipated not getting a response, “I, um, I’m not-” His brows furrowed as he struggled to find the words, “My name is Reggie, and I died in 1995,” he eventually forced out.

“Oh.” It was definitely a little far-fetched for your taste, but it would explain why you hadn’t heard your door open when he entered and why his clothes looked a little outdated. “Right.” Your brows furrowed as you turned your gaze back to your blank canvas, “Should I ask why a ghost is here to haunt me or should I just call Doctor Turner?”

The brunet laughed, flopping onto your bed behind you and propping his head up on his hands as he watched you, “Nah, you don’t need a therapist. We were just waiting on Julie to get home from Flynn’s and I got bored.”

You raised an eyebrow pointedly as you glanced back at him, “We?” You hesitated as the rest of his words caught up to you, “And why do you know my sister?”

Reggie brightened, “Oh! I forgot to tell you; I’m here with my band! Julie freed us from where we’d been trapped in limbo for twenty-five years!” He smirked a little, tugging at the lapels of his leather jacket and grinned up at you, “Now we’re trying to get Julie to join our band so we can still perform. She’s really talented! Your whole family is really great at what they do.” His eyes drifted past you to your empty canvas, “What’re you painting?”

You sighed as you followed his gaze, moving to sit next to him on the edge of your bed. “I don’t know.” Your eyes dropped to the paintbrush clutched in your hands and you started twisting it idly between your fingers just to give yourself something to do, “I haven’t been able to figure out what to paint since my mom-” You were unable to finish, but Reggie seemed to know what you meant.

“Right,” Reggie was quiet for a moment as he stared thoughtfully at your canvas, his brows furrowed. “How about the sky?”

You blinked, confused by the sudden suggestion. “The sky?”

“Yeah,” Reggie cheered, grinning widely, “I always used to go look at the sunset when I was feeling lost. It would remind me that no matter how big my problems seemed, they weren’t going to last forever. Maybe painting it will do the same for you.”

You made a thoughtful sound as you turned back to your canvas, fingers itching toward your palate of paints for the first time in what felt like ages. "Maybe it will…" you murmured, quickly picking up your favorite pencil and starting to sketch out an outline as the big picture started to come together in your mind.

Reggie grinned as he watched you, but eventually got to his feet and started wandering back toward the door. "Julie should be back soon so I’ve got to get to practice, but I look forward to seeing your masterpiece.”

It took you a moment to realize what he’d said and he was nearly out the door when you called after him. “Hey, Reggie?”

He turned back to face you, brows raised inquisitively, “Yeah?”

You struggled to come up with what you could say to express how thankful you really were. “Thank you,” you said eventually.

Reggie smiled brightly, tugging at the collar of his leather jacket, “Absolutely! I’m glad I could help!” He turned away, heading for the door again.

You turned back to your painting as he made to leave, but called after him anyway. “Hey, um-” You bit your lip, wincing at the awkwardness of what you were trying to say, “If you ever want to come back and keep me company while I paint, you’re welcome to.”

It took the ghost a moment to realize what you meant, but his excitement was plain to see. “Yeah!” he cheered, eyes crinkling at the corners from how hard he was smiling at you. “Yeah, I’d love that!” He paused as realization struck him, glancing over at the door forlornly, “I really have to get going or they’re going to go looking for me, but I’ll be back later, okay?”

He waited for you to acknowledge his statement before disappearing with a wave and a flash of light. You were a little disappointed that he’d left, but you were sure that you’d beaten your artist’s block. And hey, even if you hadn’t gotten past it permanently, you knew your new muse would come back for you.

[always-stay-in-arms-reach]

It’s June!

Happy Pride! And happy ARMS’ anniversary month! I decided to do something a little special and write a post about:

1.) Why I genuinely believe ARMS could receive a sequel

In a separate post later this week, I’d like to write about what I want to see in a sequel specifically too! Please remember this is all personal opinion and speculation based off my own information and interpretations of data and events in ARMS lifetime. It’s okay to disagree with me! I’m just a lil nerd on the internet hoping to see Min Min again ^^ 

And thanks to everyone who sees this for supporting me and this blog for a little over 5 years now. It means more to me than I can express it. Here’s to hoping we get a sequel announcement soon especially given what month it is! 

Hey! Thanks for taking the time to read this. Let’s get right down to business as to why I believe ARMS could honestly receive a sequel:

#1: Time!

It’s been nearly 5 full years since ARMS’ release. The game had so much potential and sold over 2 million copies! It had fairly high expectations considering it was a new IP and announced as part of the switch’s starting lineup, and now, it’s been around long enough where a sequel announcement would make sense. I think there was an interview years ago where Yabuki or another developer was asked about a sequel, and the response was something along the lines of, “It’s too soon to consider a sequel,” because the game wasn’t even 3 years old by that point. It’s, ofc, a much different story now though!

#2: Sales & Sale Comparisons

People always, always, always call ARMS a flop and a dead game. sigh. It’s a tale as old as time and I have literally been conditioned to never go through the ARMS tag on twitter or scroll into YT comments on an ARMS video because I already know people will be saying it’s dead, or it was bad, or Splatoon was better, etc. Firstly, Splatoon can’t be compared to ARMS considering that at the time of ARMS release, Splatoon was a RETURNING IP not a NEW IP and already had millions of fans waiting for it. Plus, like... They’re not even the same type of game. LMAO (Though this is not to shade Splatoon. I love the series and have played since it was on WII U. Very excited for Splatoon 3.) 

Getting down to business though, by the end of 2020, ARMS had sold over 2 million copies. Not too bad for a brand new IP! And if we compare the numbers, it actually outsold a handful of other fairly popular Switch titles. Citing VG Chartz, as of today, ARMS has sold about 2.5 million copies. It performed best in North America, followed by Europe, and then Japan. Here’s a screenshot from Wikipedia citing other cool information regarding ARMS’ sales:

Bonus: Accolades from Wikipedia as well: 

But getting down to comparisons, 

We can see ARMS outsold games such as Octopath Traveler and Xenoblade Chronicles 2, both of which are confirmed to be getting sequels of their own. All 3 of these awesome titles rank in the top 40 games of all time on the Switch. If they’re getting sequels, and Splatoon 2 (which dropped a month AFTER ARMS’ release) is getting its next game, it doesn’t seem too far-fetched to expect the same of ARMS.

#3: Smash! 

As we all know, Min Min is our ARMS representative in Smash, and even has her own Amiibo now! Honestly, I really highly doubt Nintendo would’ve gone through the trouble of all that if they just wanted to let the series die out. Especially when we already had Spring Man as an assist trophy so it wasn’t like ARMS didn’t have ANYTHING in Smash, but they chose to go the extra mile of giving us a proper representative (who was, more or less, chosen by fans through party crashes and even got her own animation and official art for the occasion). 

It just seems silly to me that they’d take that time to promote ARMS and Min Min as a whole new character if they really had no intention of taking ARMS any further at all. Same with the Amiibo-- why do all this effort for a series that won’t ever have any new content in the future? Nintendo is kind of known for creating these instances of hype and then letting them die down without capitalizing on them (ex. Min Min dropped in Smash, and then Nintendo went silent again. Or about 2 years ago there was a tournament held online and officially promoted by Nintendo out of nowhere and then they went silent again, etc). But combined with the above reasons, I think a sequel is more likely to happen now. 

That’s all I have to say! Like I said, I’m just hopeful for a sequel and while I know we may not get one, I can dream. Thanks for reading! 

[ren1327]

Flightless

CW: dysphoric thoughts, vomit, Robin being a lil shit. Please skip if need be, as your safety is more important.

Hi guys, here's another Riddlebird fic inspired by @angerydj. Please go check out their awesome art! Enjoy.

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

"No."

Eddie stood against the doorway, gasping as he had just finished another session of vomiting.

He thought back the last few weeks.

No. He couldn't do this!

Was he a failure as a...

The Kibuki twins looked down at him and he groaned as they silently fell to their feet before stalking silently to him, heads bobbing as they looked him over

"I'm fine." He lied. "Food poisoning. I'll nap and have some tea later."

They stared at him, motionless. Then quietly left him, doing...whatever they usually did.

He flopped onto his bed and sighed, curling his knees under his chin.

What was he going to do?

*

He woke to see a shock of messy red hair.

"Ozzie?" He groaned.

"Eddie!" Oswald squawked. "I was told you were sick!"

"I..." he sighed and tried to stand, falling back on bed. "I can't do this."

"Eddie?"

"I messed up, Oswald!" Eddie yelled, tears gathering. "I...I've failed as a..."

Oswald held a flipper like hand out and Eddie grabbed it.

"That night...a couple of months ago, when we caught that baseless impersonator!" He spat, remembering a man using his identity and riddles from a children's book to fool the gullible GCPD.

What a night when he and Oswald trapped him. When he was tied up and Oswald asked him what they should do. Eddie's had pressed his cheek to Oswald's.

"Let's gut him like a fish, my Love." He purred, only to be interrupted by the bat.

They had escaped easily, and in thier adrenaline had shared more than a few kisses, Oswald pinning him to a chain link fence at one point. The night had ended with a bang.

"Yes?" Oswald interrupted his thoughts.

Eddie looked at his Oswald and smiled, taking his hands.

"Oswald...I need a couple of days." He said. "Is that okay?"

The shorter man's face fell. Sometimes Eddie would go off to think and while Oswald would miss him, he knew the other needed time to himself.

"O-okay. But!" He held up a hand. "You need to remember to eat and sleep!"

Eddie chuckled. "I'll leave tonight. It's only for a little while. I'll see you soon."

*

The Dark Knight was right behind him as he ran.

The Riddler could feel the annoyance of fatigue. He had lied again, bile threatening to spill from his mouth.

A red, black and yellow form landed in front of him, bo staff held out. "Peek-a-boo."

"Out of the way, Brat." He snarled.

"Aw, I thought you liked birds." Robin snarked. "Or is it just flightless ones?"

"Want to find out?" He asked, trying not to groan.

Batgirl landed on her feet next to Robin.

"Wait, where is Penguin?" She asked. "And why do you...you don't look so good."

The Riddler panted, swallowing, throat sour. He held up his cane, trying not to tremble.

"I think he's sick." She told her partner.

"Great! This should be easy then!" Robin said and charged.

He landed a kick against Riddler's staff, Eddie holding it up with both hands and knocking him back.

"Robin, wait--" Batgirl called.

Robin and Riddler's staffs knocked against each other, evenly matched before Eddie pushed Robin back again. But the boy hooked his toes under the other's weapon and used his momentum to yank it from the tall man's grasp, jumping off a fire escape to aim a kick at the Riddler's chest.

"No!" Eddie wrapped his arms around his stomach.

Robin choked as he was yanked backwards by his cape, Batgirl holding it.

"What are you doing?!" Robin asked before a loud splash was heard, both turning to see Riddler on his knees, still holding his stomach as he coughed up more bile.

Batgirl walked around Robin to him.

"How long?" She asked the panting man.

"..."

"There's no solids." She said, wrinkling her nose at the puddle. "You need food."

"How...how did you know?" He asked.

"I have cousins. Lots. You should go home." She said softly.

"Would The Bat allow this?" He hissed.

"I'll take responsibility. Go." She said, holding out his staff.

Eddie snatched it away and used it as a walking stick to hobble down an alley.

"What the heck was that?!" Robin yelled as Batman silently joined them.

Batgirl looked at Batman, who simply nodded.

"You'll know when your ready." Batman said, eyes narrowing as he saw Riddler's shape fade away into the night.

*

Eddie gasped as he woke, realizing he was in his and Oswald's bed. Dressed in a sweater, loose pajama pants and washed of dirt, grime and makeup.

He didn't even know how he got there.

The twins looked down at him from the ceiling and he saw Oswald asleep on the bed next to him, still dressed.

"Oswald?" He rasped.

The other man honked and shot up. "Eddie!"

He hugged the other and Eddie hugged back, arms shaking.

"Wait here!" Oswald said, and scoot off the bed to fetch a glass of water.

Eddie smiled and drank it slowly. "Thank you."

"You just collapsed outside! I'm glad the girls saw you or..." he shook his head. "What's wrong, Eddie?"

"...I didn't realize I stopped." Eddie said softly and sniffed. "I didn't even realize I hadn't..."

"Hadn't what?" Oswald asked gently, moving closer to take his boyfriend's hands.

"...I stopped taking my pills."

"What pills--" Oswald went pale, then blushed all over. "You mean...really?"

"Yes."

"Ours?"

"Of course."

Oswald hopped towards Eddie nervously, then outstretched his flippers, laying them on the skin right under Eddie's belly button.

"Will...can we..?"

Eddie's eyes widened. "You want to?"

"With the man I love, of course I want to!"

"Man?" Eddie asked.

"Man!" Oswald confirmed with a nod.

Eddie sniffed and nodded, pulling the other into a tight hug.

"I guess I should get on a regular sleep schedule." The taller man sighed. "And meal plan since I'm so thin."

Oswald kissed his shoulder through the fabric.

"You'll be a great Dad, Eddie."

[mcwerewolfblack]

Yule Ball: Part III - Professor Snape x Reader [Smut]

Synopsis: You and Professor Snape sort out a poorly written examination in his classroom, but somebody sees. With your reputations at stake, only magic can save you now... and a little of something else too, at a time most inopportune. 

Notes: Sorry this is three days late, but I wanted to edit it to perfection, since it’s been a year since the last part! Enjoy, I love all of you so much. Happy holidays x

@fandom-puff​ (sorry I know there are so many more ppl who asked to be tagged but I lost track!) 

Part One

Part Two 

Part Four

The soft bubbling in his classroom late at night was comforting to Severus. He found it helped him think... and grade test scores, as per what he was currently preoccupied with. The moon is full outside, shining through what little window Snape had left uncovered. He ignores the squawk of Hagrid's distant Hippogriff (that thing takes pleasure in ensuring he never got any peace and quiet as of ten o clock at night) and gets back to the paper. He scowls.  

"What is it with these twits?" he murmurs to himself, using his wand to mark a large "fail" on Ron Weasley's test, flopping it onto the pile of Fred and George's equally dismal efforts. Just then, he flips to one with your neat, flowery handwriting on it, and stops.

Well, what's the problem? Just mark it as you would any other student. Besides, this will be nice and quick. (y/n) always gets a perfect score on my examinations.

Beginning to read though, he finds himself beginning to frown. Wrong... another one wrong... He looks up at the ceiling, and clenches his jaw. Of course. Why should he expect any less, when you'd been all over him for the past month?

----

The next afternoon, you’re wiling away potions by watching your quill spin in its inkwell. Wandless magic, along with perfecting the art of apparition, is something you’d been trying your hand at for years, and the fruits of your labor are just starting to manifest now.

“Miss (y/l/n).”

Your attention moves up to Professor Snape, at the head of the potions room.

This your last class of the day, before a much needed weekend rest. You're supposed to get the test grades back this afternoon, and you have to say you're excited-- you studied long and hard for it, attempting to make Snape proud of a little more than your talents of bewitchment.

"Miss (y/l/n). May I see you after class?"

You smile to yourself. "Of course, sir." You expect he'll reward you, calling you his good girl, telling you all about how much you deserve him tonight. Snape was rarely pleased with anything, but you're sure he'd find exception in your astounding work.

After class had finished on the note of homework and groaning, you stay in your seat, assuring your friends you’d catch up later. Once the rest of the unassuming students had filed out, you move to get up and join him by his desk, but he strides over before you can, thwacking the test down in front of you.

"What… is this?"

You look down at it, and give him a charming smile. "The best damn exam you'll ever grade."

Snape makes a noise halfway between a laugh and a groan, sarcasm dripping as he says, "I insist you take a second look."

You frown, and look down at your work, flipping through. As you do, you become more and more frustrated. "But-- but I knew this one! This is... this was clearly draught of the living death..."

"Was it?" Snape asks patiently, staring at you with his arms folded, "I pray you never need to brew it, then."

You huff, glaring up at him. "Do you know, I studied for hours for this--"

"Don't lie to me," he hisses, "I know what you're doing. Fail the exam, get called up to see me when everyone else is safely in their dormitories and get the punishment of a lifetime.” He leans in, glowering. “I know how your mind works."

You balk. "You actually think I'd sacrifice my grades in potions to have sex with you?! You have more of an ego than I thought, professor!"

Snape sputters. It does sound quite far fetched the way you put it, but...

"Perhaps your exams are a little too hard," you raise your eyebrows, and push the test away from you.

"Perhaps. Perhaps I was mistaken as well..." He holds his frown. "I want a perfect grade next time, do you understand me?"

"Oh, perfectly. It's just I've been so preoccupied with extra activities, like the frog choir, that whole tri-wizard competition-- I mean the tournaments are bloody thrilling! They'll be leaving soon, anyway, with all the visitors. Also McGonagall's lessons..."

"There's nothing Professor McGonagall can do that I can't do twice as ruthlessly."

"Yes. I know," you smirk.

“Do not let it happen again. My class takes precedence… you should know that by now.” Snape waits, and when you don't get up to leave, sighs. "That will be all, Miss (y/l/n)."

“Will it?”

He turns back at your teasing tone, and already feels a headache coming on. He fell right into your trap… which wasn’t even a trap in the first place. He brought this on himself, truly. Perhaps he should just forget how to feel guilty. After all, how many times had this happened?

"I'm not wearing anything beneath my robes."

Snape gives a tight lipped smile. "I was never foolish enough to believe you were."

"Proved it a bit difficult in class..." you begin to shrug the robes off, "Malfoy was hanging over my shoulder the whole time, it's a bloody miracle he didn't get an eyeful.”

"Perhaps he did," Snape muses, "We'll never know." You watch him closely, parting your legs. He still looks hesitant, even after all these times.

"We don't have to if you don't want to," you bite your lip, starting to undo the robe, "But Professor… I want to."

He puts a hand on yours to stop you, and you look up in surprise. Maybe this is really where he would take a stand... you were wondering when he would.

But he smacks your hand away, giving you that look. "Don't touch." He turns you around, and slots himself behind you, dark hair falling against your cheek. "That's. My. Job."

You grin, and he slowly opens your robes, admiring how your tie falls between your breasts, perfectly centered.

"This will have to come off," he murmurs, taking the tie with the tip of his fingers, then stops. "Unless..."

"What?" you breathe.

He hums thoughtfully, eyes narrowing. "Perhaps I ought to make sure you receive what you deserve. It was an abysmal examination score, after all..."

A thrill runs through you. "What do you mean?"

"This is the third time we've done this, and somehow I doubt it will be the last. You believe I'd let you get off without a punishment for your dangerous behavior?"

"I believe you'd let me get off.”

"Silence." Though he maintains most of his stern expression, you can sense his impulse to smirk. He takes the tie off, and ties it around your wrists behind your back, laying your back on his desk. He then begins to slowly tug the robes off, and groans when he sees your breasts bare to him in full. You moan, stretching your arms, and bite your lip, blinking up at him.

"You don't deserve what you have in mind," he whispers, "You deserve my lips on you, teasing you, bringing you close until I deny you what you need. That is what you get when you don't take my class seriously."

You whimper, rubbing your thighs together. "But Professor... please, I haven't touched myself all week."

He narrows his eyes. "Why? Preparing for something, were we?"

You avert eye contact, blushing. "I..."

"Go on."

"I expected a good grade. I thought you would reward me, daddy."

Snape inhales sharply at the name, and you see his hips start to slightly shift to rub against the desk. "Well, we both saw how that turned out. Knickers, off."

Just as you're reaching down, you both hear someone mutter an 'alohamora.' The door swings open on you and Snape. There, a boy your age stands, eyes a fraction wider.

"Krum," you breathe. He seems caught, and slowly backs away. Snape's eyes widen slightly, and you pull your robes back on. Before you can run after the visiting student though, your professor grabs your arm, tugging you back.

"He'll tell Karkarov," you protest desperately.

"He will," Snape nods, "Let him. There is little he can prove. It will just seem like dirty sportsmanship for the Durmstrang visitors to try and smear the reputation of one of Hogwarts' best teachers.”

Still... it was unnerving.

---

The next day, you're far more on edge than usual. A meeting had been called, as Snape had relayed to you, and you’re both so sure it’s about… that.

You lay on your bed, flicking your wand about as a feather dances atop you. It floats up, down, with each unspoken leviosa of your wand, and finally, you let it fall against your chest. You would much rather be practicing your apparating—it was a little harder, and would take your mind off the possibility of your getting expelled.

You try and push the thoughts of Snape out of your head, and replace them with where you want to apparate. Focus… focus…

In Dumbledore’s office, Snape takes his seat alongside McGonagall, Dumbledore, Sprout, Flitwick, Karkaroff, and Maxime. Pursing his lips and narrowing his eyes, he doesn’t say a word.

“Well. Let us bring to attention why this meeting has been called,” McGonagall begins, and Dumbledore nods.

“Quite right, Minerva. There has been an incident.”

In your dorm, you concentrate hard on apparating to the library. If you could only… focus…

“A special thank you to Karkaroff, for one his boys, Victor Krum, bringing this situation to our attention,” Dumbledore goes on. “It is a matter we here at Hogwarts, take very seriously.”

Snape is about to open his mouth, when he feels something under the table, directly in front of his legs.

You glance around, confused. Where had you ended up?

“A matter, I might say, that could even have serious repercussions if not looked into further.”

“Mon Dieu,” Maxime tuts, “What has happened, Albus?”

Oh, shit. Oh, shit! Your subconscious had won out. You had been thinking of Severus too much when trying to apparate, and had apparated to the meeting.

Snape could not, for the life of him, figure out what had just materialized between his legs. Pretending to drop a vial from his sleeve, he reached down to check… and the two of you came face to face.

Snape’s eyes widen, then he narrows them into slits. The glare is threatening in every way it could be, and you cower back a little.

I didn’t mean to, you try to mouth, but he’s already sat up again. His boot comes up, and lays to rest on your stomach, keeping you far away from him, yet close enough so the others can’t feel you. If anyone else was to check under the table, it’s not like you have an invisibility cloak—you’d both be dead meat.

“What, might I inquire, would this matter be?” Severus asks, in the most level voice he can manage. He was absolutely furious that you were where you were. Had you no shame? He was about to lose his job over this! You were simply taunting fate, at this point.

“I’m very glad you asked, Severus,” Karkaroff interjected with sinister glint in his eyes, “For this matter concerns you.”

Between his legs under the table, you try to apparate back. Only… you didn’t apparate with your wand on you. Damn wandless magic! Now you couldn’t get back.

“What have I got to do with anything, pray tell, Igor?” Snape is doing a rather good job of sounding unimpressed, bored even. You start to squirm, listening to his deep voice. It still does things to you, even in a situation like this. Especially in a situation like this.

“It is a matter of something Krum saw, Severus,” Dumbledore says slowly, “Something troubling indeed.”

Under the table, desire starts to creep up on you. You had been given a very rare, very exciting opportunity here. You could get back at Snape for grading your test badly, and have a little fun along the way… two can play at that game.

“You see, we have learned that it involves one of our students here at Hogwarts,” Minerva says sternly, “Namely, Miss (y/l/n) of (y/house) house.” You hesitate, then take the chance to unlatch him.

“Miss (y/l/n)?” Snape quirks a brow, “A model student.”

“Seems like such a lovely girl. Tres jolie,” Maxime comments.

Snape begins to frown, feeling your hands on his breeches. You weren’t. You wouldn’t…

“Yes, well there’s no doubt about that,” Flitwick says, “But the news we have heard of her is nothing short of shocking! Nothing we would expect from a young lady of her stature.” You take Snape out of his pants, half hard, and close your mouth softly around his tip. He tries to swat you off, but you dodge him.

“No doubt,” Minerva agrees.

“Surely…” Snape swallows, shifting his hips, “Whatever she has done… can be forgiven?” Oh….

“Why would you be so quick to forgive her, Severus?” Minerva asks, “We haven’t even learned of the situation.”

“I only wish to reprimand students when reprimandation is wholeheartedly deserved,” Snape clenches his jaw, giving you a good whack with his knee, “Otherwise, such punishment would subsequently lose its value.”

“Well. With that I agree,” Sprout speaks up, “But this, from what we’ve been led to believe, is a very serious issue!”

“Out with it, then,” Snape annunciates in that menacing tone, “What exactly has she done, and how exactly… does it involve me?” His hand grabs you by the hair under the table, and tightens. If you’re going to play with him like this, then he will remain in control.

“Why don’t we simply ask the boy himself?” Karkaroff smirks, and with a whisk of his wand and the utterance of Dumbledore’s secret password, the doors open. Victor Krum comes in, rigid as if he had been trained for battle. He gives a swift bow, and stands before them.

“Tell us what you saw, Victor,” Minerva encourages. Krum looks to everyone, brow furrowed. Snape guides your head, gritting his teeth. He’s already close, and he can faintly hear you moaning like a whore.

“Wait for a moment,” Filius says, holding up a finger, “I hear something strange.”

Snape coughs, trying to overpower the sounds of him getting his dick sucked by a slutty little student. “Must be Hagrid’s Hippogrif,” he grumbles, “The infernal thing does not know how to quiet down.”

“Buckbeak only caws at night,” Filius frowns, “This sounds much closer.”

Snape begins to sweat. This was it. If you didn’t quiet down your sounds of pleasure from under the table, you would both be found out, and that would be that. Disgraced, humiliated, cast out--

Igor clears his throat in irritation, and attention is once again collectively returned to Krum. Snape relaxes a little bit, this being the only time he’s ever praised his old death eater friend for interrupting something.

You smirk under the table, quieting your moaning down a little as Snape slams you back into him, your lips sliding down even further over his cock with each thrust into your mouth. It feels so good to be used, especially in such a dangerous situation—you’d never been so wet in your life, and you start to rub yourself, gasping softly and gagging on his large cock.

Snape curses you out in his mind. You’re a troublemaker, more than a troublemaker, and absolutely disobedient little girl. What he wouldn’t do to slam you down over a desk right at this very moment and teach you a real lesson.

“Go on,” Minerva encourages Krum gently, “What you say will never leave this room.”

“Unless required,” Flitwick sniffs, straightening his tie.

“Oh, Merlin,” Snape grunts, crumpling forward a little. He’s on the edge, he’s about to come… Everyone turns to him, their stares burning.

“Something to say, Severus?” Karkaroff jabs, sneering.

Snape’s eyelids flutter, and he white knuckles the table as his orgasm hits him. You moan under the table, feeling it on your tongue, and you come as well, biting back a whine. Fuck, you’re hit little whore… oh, yeah…

“Severus?” Minerva prods, frowning. Snape clenches his jaw, regaining his foothold on the conversation.

“Only a reminder that I am very busy and do not have all day. Consider this an encouragement, Mr. Krum, to spit it out,” he growls, then his lips tug up ever so slightly. “Though not everyone present in this room must take that advice.”

You hold back a giggle, and swallow dutifully.

Through the confused stares of the heads of houses, Krum finally speaks. Snape holds his breath, and you listen carefully, nerves buzzing. At least you went out with a bang.

“I was walking past Professor Snape’s classroom,” Krum begins, staring at the dark Slytherin head of house, “And…” Everyone seems to lean forward. “And spotted (y/n)…”

“Yes?” Sprout murmurs. Snape worries the inside of his lip. This was it. Perhaps he could apparate as smoothly as you had, out of this room. Though he could never match your impeccable timing, surely.

“—I spotted (y/n) stealing lacewing flies from Professor Snape’s personal storage.”

Snape nearly drops his jaw. Everyone at the table looks terribly scandalized, and he counts his blessings that it is not for the reason they should.

“Allow me… to explain,” he says, fixing himself discreetly under the table. “I had given (y/n) an assignment outside of class protocol, brewing a specially modified batch of polyjuice potion for extra credit. I have been tutoring her as somewhat of an apprentice.” He looks up at Krum with a curious sort of respect. “I… appreciate your diligence in reporting what would typically be an unforgivable offense against my private collection of ingredients, Mr. Krum. However, in this particular case… no further action is required, at the bidding, of course, of Headmaster Dumbledore.”

Dumbledore opens his hands. “Your explanation is quite sufficient, Severus. I see no further need to pursue any consequence toward Miss (y/l/n), if her intentions were warranted and academic.”

You sigh in relief under the table, and Snape smirks. Karkaroff is fuming, thinking the matter would absolutely ruin him. The potions master lifts his chin.

“Will that be all, then?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” he growls, and rises. He gets out a small vial, and hands it to you under the table, as the others talk amongst themselves.

“Drink,” he mutters, and you do. Before your eyes, you begin to turn invisible. His potion-brewing abilities never fail to astound you. Flitwick and Sprout spot the slight elevation in the tablecloth as you get out and follow Snape. They frown at one another, and check for an open window anywhere in the office.

You follow Snape to his classroom, and this time, he locks the door.

“You are lucky he said what he did, you little harlot.”

You smirk, the small vial already wearing off. “He knows Hermione. Hermione knows me. It’s only natural he’d cover for me.”

“And what you did back under the table?!” he continues, cape billowing as he paces. You grimace a little, waiting for that. He just sighs, glancing at you. “Will be the reason for my nightly shut-ins.”

You saunter over, kissing his cheek. “I knew you’d thank me.” He doesn’t look up.

“Hardly. Detention for the remainder of the school year.”

“But sir!” You slowly start to realize what that means. “Ah. Yes, sir.”

He can’t help but smile to himself as you leave for your dormitory, admiring your uniform on the way out. Perhaps he hadn’t taken such leave of his senses when he had found you that night at the Yule Ball, as he had so forced himself to believe. Perhaps, instead, he had come to them.

[frostsinth]

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

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Protea (Part 11)

Snapdragon is unusually snappy today and Mai isn’t sure what it is. She supposes that the girl has to have at least one bad day eventually, Mai just wishes that she knew what was causing her poor mood.

She wonders if someone had discovered her factory and tried to take it from her. Or if one of her brothers had stolen something from her stash. More likely, she considers that someone at the palace had said something to her again, to make her question her hobbies.

The more Mai ponders it, the more she thinks that it is true. Though she continues to shamble up to her nest and acquire more things to toss into her steadily growing trash hoard, the woman’s face is curiously less smudged, and her hands are usually clean. As clean as they can be given that Mohi doesn’t have the sort of water that the palace does.

She finds the woman tucked away into her hoarding nest, fidgeting with a golden ribbon. She wraps it around her pointer, unwraps it, and warps it again. She isn’t sure that Snapdragon is staring at it at all.

“I thought that I’d find you up here.” Mai remarks. “That ladder is getting more unstable.” She shudders.

Snapdragon shrugs. “It’s fine.” Her voice lacks it’s usual spark and her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. Mai rubs her lips together before ultimately deciding to reach for the woman’s hand. Once she finds it, she feels Snapdragon’s fingers tighten around her own hand.

Quietly, Mai hold’s her hand to Snapdragon’s cheek, stroking it with her thumb. “The flowers should be here soon so we can open up the shop again.” She isn’t sure if this will cheer her girlfriend up any. “That’s exciting, right.”

She thinks that Snapdragon’s smile is more genuine this time. She nods, “Sounds nice.”

.oOo.

Nice isn’t exactly the word she is looking for, she is actually quite thrilled. Snapdragon does like the flowers and she thinks that Azula does too. They are soothing for Azula where they are joyful for her.

Her head hurts. She supposes that she will have to see which emotion wins out when the time comes.

“What’s going on, Snapdragon? Don’t tell me that those uppity nobles got to you?”

There is a nervous sort of twitching and fluttering in her belly, “what makes you think that something is wrong?”

“You haven’t been acting like yourself lately.”

But that is just it. She is acting like herself. For the first time in so long, she is acting like herself. Just not the self that Mai has grown used to. The self that she, herself has grown used to. “What do you mean?” She asks anyways.

“For one thing, you’re talking differently…”

The fluttering intensifies. For all of her confusion there is certainty. It comes in that Mai can’t know that she knows who she used to be. There is certainty in that Mai would hate her all over again if she found out. She doesn’t want to lose Mai a second time. The fluttering reaches a peak recalling the moment when the woman had drawn her knives, the moment she had been ready to turn them on her. It had hurt the day that it had happened...it is unbearable to think about now. Now, when the hand that had wielded the blades  is gently caressing her cheek in loving little strokes.  

“Where are your dirt smudges?” She traces her fingers along the spots on her cheeks and forehead most prone to mud and grease.

She isn’t sure how to tell Mai that she no longer likes the feeling of dirt smeared on her face and that her skin is crawling now that showers aren’t as regular as they had been at the palace. She thinks for a moment. “I like  how it feels to be clean.” She says.

Mai tilts her head.

“I don’t mind getting dirty but I like smelling nice and feeling clean. My face feels less...stiff.” She replies.

Mai nods, “Have you never taken a bath before you went to the palace?”

Snapdragon thinks on it. And in doing though she thinks that it is safe to say that Snapdragon-Azula has never take a real bath before. She shakes her head. “Unless the lake counts.”

“You haven’t even gone to the communal bathhouses?”

Snapdragon shakes her head. This is another thing that she and Azula share; neither of them enjoy public bathing. Too many eyes, even if they aren’t focused on her. “I don’t like those. The lake is better.”

Mai chuckles. “Alright, I guess that, that makes sense. You’ve never been fully clean before so you didn’t know that it was something that you liked.”

Some of her tension eases away. Perhaps she is overthinking things. Perhaps, even without Azula creeping back in, Snapdragon would have enjoyed being cleaner.

“So what’s bothering you?” Mai asks again.

Snapdragon shrugs. “I just...I don’t feel well.” She makes a note to try to be happier. She will lose Mai if she can’t muster up the same spunk and enthusiasm that Snapdragon had.

“Do you want to stay at the palace again?” Mai offers.

Snapdragon nods. She can use another bath and Mohi could use a break from her antics.

.oOo.

She feels significantly more like Azula when she is wearing her own robes. She feels, perhaps more powerful than Snapdragon has been allowed to feel. Granted she still gets glowers and glares. They still look down upon her. Save for Yora, they don’t want her here. She is a nuisance. A dirty nobody. Inferior.

It makes Azula’s blood boil in a way that Snapdragon had been able to laugh off. It brings color to her cheeks. A sense of shame that she can’t seem to shake. But then, this had bothered Snapdragon too.

“They just aren’t used to people like you.” Yora mentions as she takes a comb to Azula’s locks.

“Uncultured peasants?”

“Kinder souls.” Yora corrects. “People who are easier to be around.” She takes a deep breath. “They are so used to being surrounded by other people who are pampered and spoiled that they don’t know what to do when someone like you comes around. Someone who is fun and carefree.”

Azula wishes that she were fun, carefree, and kind.

“Innocent.” Yora adds. “Though they tend to try to take advantage of innocence here. I like you, Snapdragon. You’re a good person. It is nice to groom someone who isn’t barking orders and particulars.”

She is offended and comforted all at one. She knows that Azula is picky, prone to particulars. And she supposes that she hadn’t been kind about it either. She feels horrible for having banished the one servant who is now being kind to her.

“How is this?” She holds a mirror up for Snapdragon to observe. She has been avoiding them since the return of her memories. And her reflection is now just as jarring as she had anticipating. Jarring because she knows that it is not truly her own. And yet, it is, she has seen it daily for such a long time now. She is both used to this body and disconnected from it. It is familiar and foreign all the same. She knows that she should be looking at a different face. A face that she sees everywhere in the palace but the mirrors. She isn’t sure why Zuko has kept portraits of Azula. Her head hurts all over again.

“It’s nice.” She answers.

“Are you alright?”

“Headache.” She replies simply.

Yora nods, “I’ll take you to the guest room. Unless you’d like to sleep in the princess’ room again. Mai mentioned that it was too open for you?”

She wants to sleep in her own room, “I just need…”

“More pillows than any one person should have a right to use?” Yora quirks a brow.

She nods. Yora has always caught on quick. Snapdragon’s stomach lurches again, the memories are hitting her left and right. They come back suddenly and overwhelmingly. She thinks that it might not be a lie that she is feeling physically ill. At the very least, she is truly feeling dizzy and hazy.

“Yora!” Ami snaps. “You were supposed to be helping with the laundry today. Forget about the commoner and do the job that you were meant to do.”

“I was just going to get her some pillows…”

“Extra pillows  are in the servants quarters, down the make a left and then another left. You’ll see them.” Ami says to Snapdragon. “Get them yourself, Yora has work to get to.”

“Where is Mai?”

The woman scowls. “With the firelord. She doesn’t have time for you. And neither does Yora.”

.oOo.

Snapdragon doesn’t collect her pillows.  She wanders hazily back to her room torn between storming back up to Ami and letting her know who she is dealing with and flopping down on her bed and trying to process everything.

She lingers in front of her bedroom door. She still feels so small standing before it. Perhaps she should go fetch herself the pillows, the nest was rather comforting…

“You must be Snapdragon.”

She tenses. This voice. She knows this voice. And it pulls at strings in her mind. Pulls more memories to the surface. Memories that Snapdragon can’t brush off.

She turns around and nods, “I’m Snapdragon.”

But she isn’t in this moment. In this moment, she is very much Azula.

“My name is Ursa.” She smiles. It is such a warm smile, it makes Azula feel sick and tearry. “Can I help you find something?”

“I was going to get some pillows.”

“I can fetch one of the servants.”

“Yora is busy, apparently.” Azula grumbles.

“Ami?”

Azula nods. Once upon a time, the woman had been her favorite servant…

“Follow me.” Ursa gestures. “You can take as many pillows as you want.”

.oOo.

Her mother is a sweet woman. She helps her perfectly arrange her circle of pillows and blankets. “I used to do this with Zuko all time.”

She had never done so with Azula. She tries to imagine what that would have been like. She shakes her head, she doesn’t have to try to imagine it; “I think that this one would look nice over here.”

Azula almost laughs. The woman is making an art of building pillow nests. Azula almost cries. She has the same inclination to make her pillow nest look prettier, more organized. She moves the pillow to where her mother had suggested. “Perfect.” She says.

Ursa nods in agreement. “I can send fpr Mai and with two cups of hot tea--three if you don’t mind me staying. I don’t think that a pillow nest is complete without tea and a story.”

“Do you have a story?”

“Many of them?”

Both Azula and Snapdragon want a story, even if it is for different reasons. Azula wants what has been deprived from her for so long and Snapdragon simply loves exciting tales.

.oOo.

For a moment apprehension leaves Azula. With candles to softly light the room and tea to warm her throat, she is comfortable. Very much so. She snatches up one of her pillows and hugs it to her chest as Mai props herself up against her.

Her mother smiles. It might be the one thing that Azula has done that she approves of. And perhaps it is only because she is looking at Snapdragon. Snapdragon who stirs excitedly when storytime begins. It takes her to a new place in her mind. A place with dragons and adventure. Though she supposes that her whole life has been an adventure, especially now that Snapdragon had taken control.

By Agni, she just hopes that Azula can keep the love and spirit that Snapdragon has.

She clutches Mai as tightly as she clutches the pillow. She isn’t sure how long she will be able to do so. She just knows that she can’t let go yet. She can’t lose Mai again. “Now this is more like my Snapdragon.” She hears Mai mutter.

[raendown]

A collaboration with the wonderful @sinyaru who made some delicious art to go with it! Check out the story or the sin blog to see them! 

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 5483 Rated: E Summary: Madara comes to him wet with rain and shaken with worry, confessing things that Tobirama already knows.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Love in Search of a (Spoken) Word

“I think I’m in love with you.” Madara’s fringe dripped with rainwater, plastered to his face so that one side was completely obscured. “And I’m terrified.”

“You’ll catch a cold standing out there like that,” Tobirama murmured. With slow, clearly telegraphed movements he reached out to pull the other inside, sliding the door closed without taking his first hand off the shaken man ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. 

His voice was soft as he directed Madara down the hall to the bathroom where he collected several towels from the closet. Drying off so much hair always took a long time but Tobirama was a patient man, parting the dripping mass in to sections and wrapping each in soft cotton, drawing as much of the water out naturally as possible to help cut down on the volume of frizz when he finished the job with a touch of chakra. A smile touched his lips when the man shivered under his ministrations and pushed him in to the bedroom. 

Stepping around towards the dresser, he pressed a kiss against his partner’s forehead on the way to pull out dry clothes from one of the drawers he had cleaned out months ago only to watch them slowly fill up with clothing that wasn’t his own. Madara’s gaze was locked somewhere over his shoulder when he turned around again. 

“Did you hear what I said?” came the impatient demand.

“I did.” Tobirama shook out the clothes and laid them across the end of the bed before starting on the task of unknotting the wet obi holding Madara’s sodden clothing together. 

“Oh.” 

Looking up, he smiled again at the crestfallen look on his partner’s face. What a ridiculous man. 

“Something wrong?” he asked. Madara stiffened and the thoughts racing through his mind were plain on his face, the internal struggle of whether or not to actually speak his mind. 

“You didn’t say anything. I said- but you didn’t- never mind, I guess.”

Tobirama hummed as he finally managed to get the knotted sash to loosen. “You’re worried over me not saying anything? I say that all the time. Not my fault you don’t know when to listen properly.” 

He paused to admire his handiwork when the knot finally opened, peeling the material away piece by piece until Madara was left standing in the middle of the room with his chest bare, skin clammy and cold, face scrunched up with confusion. If it weren’t for the natural heat his chakra nature granted him it was probable he might have already caught a cold standing outside in the rain as he’d apparently been doing. Dark eyes followed his every movement but Tobirama simply let the man stare until he finally found his words again. 

“Like when?” Madara demanded. 

“I say that I love you when you’re sleeping and you reach out to make sure I’m still there. I say that I love you when I wake in my lab to find that you’ve brought me tea and dinner. I say that I love you when you scream in someone’s face for making comments about Hashirama.” Tobirama bore the weight of his partner’s stare easily as he continued to pull wet clothing away and towel the cold skin beneath. “I say that I love you when you’re covered in blood and fearless in the face of odds that would make a lesser man weep. I say that I love you when you wrinkle your nose before you sneeze. I say that I love you when you watch the village children playing with a smile on your face.”

“You’ve never said it so that I can hear you.” Madara’s expression was a study of confusion, so many different emotions warring for space and all of them winning. 

“Don’t I?” Tobirama hummed. 

“No!” 

Pausing in his work, he looked his partner in the eye at last and lifted one eyebrow. “Do I not bring you tea made just the way you like it? Let you sleep after you’ve stayed awake holding Izuna’s hand through another panic attack? Share your dessert when you can’t finish it even though I have no taste for sweets?” 

“But you’ve never said it!” Madara cried. 

And that was at least partially true. In the months since they had stumbled their way through an awkward first date Tobirama had been careful never to say those words when he knew the other could hear him. Emotions had always been difficult for both of them to express in any way and verbally was the worst. Asking either of them to speak how they felt out loud was akin to pulling teeth for information, a messy affair and painful for everyone involved. 

He supposed, however, that sacrifices could be made for his most precious person. 

“I love you very much,” Tobirama said with a small tilt of the head. “There, I’ve said it. Does that assuage your fears at all?”

Madara’s response was a soft whine, leaning forward until he could bury his reddening face against Tobirama’s shoulder. Neither of them saw fit to care much about the remaining damp on his person slowly leeching in to Tobirama’s clothing. A little water was the last thing on their minds. Tobirama slid his arms around the cold body molesting him and held tightly, unsure if he was trying to soothe himself or his partner but happy enough to kill two birds with one stone. He listened to a few ridiculous grumbles about how he always had an answer for everything while looking around for one of the many hair brushes his bedroom had recently acquired.

Before stepping away to grab the closest one Tobirama allowed them both a few minutes to stand quietly in their embrace. When the heat in Madara’s ears had receded to less worrisome levels he slipped over to snatch up the brush, returning as quickly as possible, hands sliding over naked skin like he could press himself in to his partner’s soul and never be parted again. A fanciful thought he chose not to dwell on. 

“Say it again.” 

“I love you. Turn around, I’ll start with the back.”

“You don’t have to,” Madara murmured even as he turned around to kneel on the futon, the impact of his weight sending up waves of their mingled scents. The familiar mixture seemed to help him focus on something other than the heat rising up the back of his neck again. 

Tobirama smiled as he knelt behind and began to work out the knots at the very end of the long mane before him. Brushing Madara’s hair was always a lengthy process that required a great deal of patience but it was something he had enjoyed from the first time he offered, the perfect excuse to bury his fingers in luxuriously soft waves and a way to lavish tender care on his partner without mortifying either of them with grandiose gestures. Feeling merciful, he waited until he was at least mostly done before finally speaking his mind, laughter hiding under his tongue. 

“I noticed that you didn’t say anything back.”

“Nng!” 

As expected, Madara’s first reaction was to indulge in a full body flail that overbalanced him in to the blankets. Tobirama looked on with a smile for his favorite fool. He himself wasn’t all that great with expressing things but his partner had a certain dramatic flair that seemed entirely unique to him. Even Hashirama with his constant outbursts never quite reached the level of his best friend. Falling over seemed to leave him disoriented so it took a minute or two of flopping about as though he’d lost control of his own limbs before finally Madara was able to roll over and climb back in to a kneeling position, facing back towards Tobirama but with his chin tucked down to avoid eye contact. That may have had something to do with the return of a deep blush to his cheeks. 

“Well, I mean, I did already say it.” 

“Mn, what was it you said?”

“That I love you!”

Finally Tobirama let his smile blossom in to soft chuckles as he reached out and pulled the other man in to another embrace. “You may find this somewhat anticlimactic but I already knew that. To me it was obvious how we both felt even if we never said the words to each other.” 

“Oh. That’s...that’s nice, I suppose.” Madara furrowed his brows as though with deep thought. 

“I am always nice to you”-Tobirama paused to reconsider and added-”except when I am not. Now, I can’t imagine that hanging about naked and damp is keeping you very warm. Get yourself under the blanket while I go fetch another one so you don’t leech all of my heat while I sleep.” 

For once Madara didn’t seem inclined to argue, flopping back down across the futon and rolling about again until his face was buried out of sight. Tobirama celebrated his easy win by not pointing out that falling asleep without braiding all that hair would only mean brushing it out again in the morning. Considering how often they spent the night in each others’ homes he had learned months ago to keep an extra blanket stored in the room for easy access so it was only a minute or so later that he was pulling at corners to straighten the addition, lifting one edge to admire the pale backside hidden underneath before slipping in to press himself against it. 

It wasn’t until he was almost completely settled in and ready to sleep that he noticed his own shirt was still wet. Tobirama wrinkled his nose in annoyance. 

“Where are you going?” Madara demanded as soon as he began to squirm back out of the bed. 

“My shirt is wet,” he answered. “I’ll never fall asleep if I don’t replace it with something dry.”

“Just take it off and get back here. S’not like I’ve never seen you without a shirt on.”

Tobirama hummed thoughtfully, propped up on one elbow where he had paused in his movements. “I wasn’t sure if it was appropriate, to be honest. You seemed quite shaken by your realization; I didn’t wish to make you feel pressured in to anything.” His partner looked back at him with utter confusion. 

“Pressured?”

“You’re entirely nude,” he pointed out. 

Not that such a thing bothered him. Like the man had said, it wasn’t like they’d never seen each other naked or fallen asleep together in such a state. It was just that he had a long track record of failing to read the mood properly and he wasn’t certain whether the press of skin against skin would be welcome just now. Madara’s snort was enough of an answer to make him feel foolish for his caution. 

“Get naked and get back here so you can warm me up!” 

Since that was an order he was more than happy to follow Tobirama only chuffed and reached for the hem of his top. Having been getting ready for bedtime anyway shortly before his partner arrived, there weren’t a whole lot of layers for him to remove, allowing him to slip under the blankets only a minute later and wriggle in until Madara’s hips were fitted in to the cradle of his own with one arm tucked under his own head with the other holding their bodies tightly together. It was a familiar position, one they had fallen asleep in numerous times before. Still it made his heart flutter helplessly in his chest to feel the tension in Madara’s body seep away and sink back against him. To have such trust from a man like this was a gift he still wasn’t sure how he had earned. 

He was hardly one to look a gift horse in the mouth, though. 

On the other hand, he was absolutely the type of man who had never entirely learned when to leave well enough alone, when to stop asking questions. As Madara finally warmed up enough to stop shivering Tobirama burrowed in against the damp hair at the back of his neck and hummed thoughtfully. 

“Why did it terrify you?” he asked. 

“Huh?”

“Falling in love, why did it scare you?”

The body in his arms went stiff again but he held tightly as Madara searched for words. “Love can be dangerous for the people in my clan. I mean, I knew that we were headed down that road but it was like I was walking along and it just hit me all of a sudden, you know? Like opening my eyes to see that I had already arrived when I thought there was still half the journey left.” 

“So you were just startled more than anything else?” Tobirama summarized, lifting a brow when Madara squirmed uncomfortably against him. 

“Well...I don’t know. Maybe I was a little worried that you weren’t, er, quite at the same part of the journey as I am.”

Now that gave him pause. Tobirama rolled that around in his mind a few times to look at it from every angle, deciding how it made him feel. After a minute or so he offered, “To be the only one in love would indeed be a terrible thing.” Shuffling away gave him room to pull Madara down on to his back so their eyes could meet. “But you’re not the only one. Quite frankly it’s a little worrisome that you don’t seem to realize how much I care for you.” 

“Obviously I know that you care.” Madara grumbled.

“But-”

“I just didn’t know how deeply, alright? Neither of us has ever been in love before, how was I supposed to know what it looks like!” 

“Ah. Well allow me to show you then.”

The heat in his eyes kept his prey still for Tobirama to slide himself over Madara’s body until he was straddled across broad hips. When he leaned in for a kiss he was met halfway by a pair of soft, eager lips and hands grazing up the skin of his chest, pausing to thumb circles around one of his nipples. Apparently there really hadn’t been a need for him to worry about whether the mood was right for this. How delightful. Speaking without words had always been the best way they communicated. He responded to such welcome ministrations with a gentle roll of his hips to test the waters a little further. The whine that rose up from below broke their kiss and Tobirama took advantage of the distraction to dip his head, leaving a trail of sharp bites down the column of his partner’s neck just to feel how the body underneath his arched in to the sensation. 

Although technically this was still his home there was enough of Madara here for the man to reach out with the absent minded confidence of someone who knew their space well and come back with a half empty bottle of lube. That definitely sealed the deal of where this was going. His fingers were still quite cold when they felt their way down to Tobirama’s entrance but so was the lube itself. Still he murmured his apologies and some lewd suggestions for how he could warm his hand, filthy words meant to distract from the soft emotion in his voice. 

Like he usually did, Tobirama allowed his partner the dignity of not pointing out that it didn’t work. 

Instead he rocked his hips forward to feel the brush of skin against skin and then back in to the touch at his entrance with a low sigh of want as he felt two fingers press inside. Madara took advantage of the distraction to capture his lips in another kiss, free hand tracing patterns on his ribs, grounding him with gentle strokes that softened the edges of frenetic lust in to something that could only be described as passion. Madara was a man who brought passion in to every facet of his life. From the first time they tumbled in to bed together Tobirama had been more than happy to enjoy the benefits of such a tendency here where at last they found a way to communicate that they both understood. It boggled Tobirama’s mind that his partner could ever be unsure of where they stood with each other when he felt the love between them so clearly in every kiss, every touch. Here between the sheets their bodies spoke for them and oh how he loved the sweet music their souls made together.

“Your lips make me wonder what the rest of you would taste like,” Madara whispered, likely unaware that Tobirama could clearly hear what he meant to say: that he could never get enough, that he wanted to have this every day for the rest of their lives. A sentiment that was shared rather enthusiastically. 

“As if you haven’t tasted every inch of me before,” he murmured back. “You’re always welcome to do so again, though.” 

He wondered if his partner truly understood the offer he was making in return but at the same time he supposed it didn’t matter. The panic on Madara’s face when he appeared on the porch tonight, soaked through with the night’s rain, made it clear that subtlety had run its course. Words would be needed - but later. Later he could embarrass them both with bluntly laying out the happy future he saw for them. For now this was more than enough, listening to Madara splutter indignantly. He could dish out the filth but it always flustered him when Tobirama riposted so easily. 

“See if I don’t!” Madara declared, although he notably made no move to change their positions. 

Tobirama had no problems with accepting another finger inside himself. His hips rolled almost unconsciously in to the sensations of being opened up for something bigger. There were times when it was almost annoying how necessary this step was, times when all he wanted was the closeness of being filled and feeling Madara flush against him as soon as possible, but there were also times like now when it was nice to draw it all out, to savor every moment the way a maiden savors every brush stroke of a heartfelt love letter. 

It seemed his thoughts were determined to run in a sappy direction tonight, more affected by Madara’s declaration than he’d realized. Tobirama bore down on the fingers scissoring inside him and nipped at the lips moving against his own in an effort to bring himself back to the present. Yes Madara loved him but he’d already known that. Why should hearing it spoken out loud affect him like this? 

“Need- hold on.” A moment and Madara’s touch was gone, immediately missed, encouraging a scowl to rise on Tobirama’s face until he realized what the man had paused for. 

“Right.” It took a great deal of strength to shuffle away just enough that Madara had room for slipping a condom down over his own length. The moment those hands were out of his way he was sliding in again to fit them together in ways he had never fit against another. 

“Like this?” Madara asked him. 

“I want to watch you,” Tobirama admitted. 

Heat climbed up the column of Madara’s neck, lips mumbling that they could watch each other just as well the other way around, though he offered no true complaints. In the language of an emotionally constipated Uchiha that usually meant he was pleased by what was said but too embarrassed to say so. Tobirama would have taken the time to pat himself on the back for understanding if he weren’t busy with canting his hips at just the right angle for Madara to press against him until the head of his cock slid inside, both of them groaning with something like relief. 

“Gods,” his partner swore. “Perfect. Always feel so fucking perfect.” 

“Could say the same of you,” Tobirama tried to sally back, though it came out much more breathless than intended. 

Yet how could he be anything but breathless as he sat up for gravity to pull him down until the two of them were perfectly and entirely locked together. Considering who they were, what they had been trained for and how their tempers were prone to running hot at a moment’s notice, gentle was not a word that could often be used to describe their sex life. For that matter it wasn’t a word that could often be used to describe most facets of their relationship and to the surprise of many that worked for them. But there were days like today when the feral animal passion that usually marked their nights simply wasn’t present. Sometimes it was nice to just be together, to gentle their touch the way both of them had gentled the other’s heart. 

Tobirama rolled his hips in a slow circle just to enjoy the feeling of being full - and maybe also to hear his partner groan with impotent frustration, no doubt eager for him to really move. Just this once there was mercy in him. Bracing himself against the broad chest below, he lifted his body as slowly as a man with his muscular control was able to. He watched Madara’s eyes fall shut as though praying for strength and breathed a sigh of contentment when the hands skimming his body settled at last on his hips, neither pushing nor pulling, not hurrying him in any way but simply framing him with the same unwillingness to let go that had kept the two of them together for so long now. Only when he could feel the pull of Madara’s cock head against his entrance did he finally lower himself back down and let his jaw fall open to pant through the sensation of being filled all over again. 

He wanted to have patience. More than any other night he wanted to draw this out until it became a contest of who could hold out the longest through such sweet torture. And he probably could have much better if not for the burning in his chest that could not be ignored, the pounding of a heart that beat solely for the man sliding inside him, the scent of sex as heavy around them as the lingering scent of damp hair.

Keeping a steady rhythm was easy but forcing that rhythm to remain slow was so much harder with jolts of electricity running up his spine with each rock of his hips. Tobirama knew that if he just shifted his weight back on to his heels he could find the perfect angle against his own prostate and the only thing preventing him from doing so was the idea of stopping even for a single moment. Just the thought of separating himself from his partner had him angling the opposite way, bending his spine until he was close enough to lower his head for another kiss. Madara met him with a low whine of desire. 

Together they rocked and kissed, hands gliding over skin as they slowly worked up a sweat, teeth nipping and lips parting only to let out breathless moans before pressing together again. If there were any moment in his life Tobirama wished he had the ability to imprint upon his mind like the Sharingan could it would be this one. With the ability to immortalize memories he would fill his mind with happy ones, the words whispered in the darkness, the touches they shared when there was no one there to see them. He would have given the world to bring the expression on Madara’s face with him until the grave. Nothing could possibly have filled his chest with warmth quite like seeing red and black eyes looking back at him, memorizing him the way he wished he could do in return. 

When the muscles in his thighs began to burn Tobirama shifted his weight minutely in an attempt to ease the pressure without stopping. A frown touched his brow for perhaps a single heartbeat, the shift putting him at an angle that wasn’t quite as good, but it wasn't a problem for long. The next time he sank down Madara rolled his hips up to meet in the middle and the sensation punched a cry out of him that lingered in the air.

“Just like that,” he managed to choke out, pressing back harder and letting another groan slip out, preening under the hot eyes watching his every move. It was always nice to be appreciated. 

“S’long as you - hnn gods - don’t stop!” Madara’s voice sounded just as strained as his own, stroking Tobirama’s ego even as he slipped a hand between them to stroke his cock in time with their movements. 

Keeping his rhythm controlled at an almost excruciatingly slow pace began to pay off at last as he felt tension gathering in his thighs and his belly, heat bubbling through his veins, building steadily towards what promised to be a rather spectacular end. If the grimace of pleasure looking up at him from below was anything to judge by he would say that Madara felt quite the same. Resisting the urge to quicken his movements was difficult, resisted only by employing every last ounce of willpower he could muster. Each time he sat back Madara filled him oh so perfectly and each time he lifted away his own cock slid through the ring of fingers stroking him just so. Despite having thought this same thing before - several times before - he couldn’t help thinking this must be the best sex they’d ever had. 

And he thanked every deity he could think of that his partner had no interest in soppy confessions of that nature. 

With a rumbling growl that even he would not have expected to hear from himself, Tobirama clenched his fingers and bent to crash their lips together for a kiss that bordered on vicious. Madara’s hips snapped harder as if in reflex and that was all he needed. Tobirama cried out even as he refused to pull away. Adrenaline and dopamine flooded his system, orgasm crashing through his veins like wildfire, and over the white noise of pleasure he could just faintly hear Madara echoing his cry so loudly he could feel it in his soul. 

His body was shuddering uncontrollably when he finally realized he was still kissing his partner frantically, a dying man finding water in the desert. Madara’s fingers tightening on his hips brought them to stillness before he even understood they were still moving. Their lips parted and Tobirama gasped for the breath he hadn’t noticed he was holding, gulping air and curling down in the same movement, needing to be as close as possible even if he knew he could never have properly put that need in to words. Strong arms closed around him without comment. At first simply to rest against his back, a welcome and comforting weight, then after a minute or so stroking languidly up and down his spine. Tobirama used that touch to ground himself. 

“Shit,” rumbled past his ear with a puff of exhausted breath. 

“Eloquent.” Tobirama made a passing attempt at teasing only to decide he hadn’t the energy. “But accurate.”

“That was…”

He waited but when Madara didn’t continue he smiled, unable to lift his head just yet and unbothered by the hair pillowing his face. “Yes. Yes it was.”

“Well, ah, I guess I really did get myself worked up about nothing. And you know what? I can’t seem to find the will to be upset about it.” Madara huffed once in amusement but stopped when Tobirama mumbled in protest for the movement. 

“Of course you were worried for nothing. Unnecessary emotions are, after all, your modus operandi.”

“I don’t know what that means but I feel like I should be insulted.”

“Yes, you should. You should also quit squirming before I pinch you in the side; I am quite comfortable right here and if you dislodge me I will not be happy.” 

This time when Madara laughed it was more of an amused hum as he fell blessedly still, allowing Tobirama to fairly melt overtop of him. As much as the hand stroking his back had been appreciated it was nice to just lie still and drift. Several minutes passed during which the world outside of their little personal bubble slowly inched back in to their awareness, the sound of crickets drifting in the window, drying sweat tacky on their skin. Eventually the romance of lying in each other’s arms gave way to the need for cleaning themselves up. Tobirama still made a point of rolling his head sideways to leave a trail of languid kisses across whatever skin he could reach without moving just yet. 

“Do try not to forget,” he murmured.

“No,” Madara agreed. “I don’t think I could. Sometimes I do wonder if the other clans ever love as strongly as an Uchiha but I suppose it doesn’t matter. This is the only way I know how to love. You’re just going to have to deal with it.”

“I deal with a lot being in love with you.” 

Already smirking, this time when his glorified mattress heaved with insult he allowed the motion to roll him sideways and down across the mess they had made of his sheets. His muscles were still a little too shaky to dodge the reprimanding swat that caught him in the bottom as he stumbled his way up off the futon and away to grab a damp cloth from the bathroom. Cleaning himself was a perfunctory affair, little attention to detail and finished as soon as possible, then he was wobbling back off to the bedroom where he tossed another cloth over Madara’s face and crumpled back in to the bedding. 

He watched through hooded eyes while his partner gave himself a similarly quick once over in the more important places until finally that cloth too was discarded and he attacked the first opening available, draping one leg back over Madara’s waist and pillowing his head against a strong shoulder. 

“I feel I should also warn you not to expect such sentimentality from me very often. This was a special occasion.” 

Madara grunted. “I think we’d both melt from embarrassment if I asked you to declare your love for me every morning or some bullshit.” 

“Listening to Anija and his wife was bad enough before I escaped the pair of them.”

“Ugh. I did not envy you having to live in the same house as all that goopy romance. How you kept your sanity is beyond me.” 

“Aren’t you the one who says I have none left anyway?”

He listened to another grunt of acknowledgement and then the both of them fell silent again for several minutes. Without the stink of drying salt on their skin or the tacky feeling of their own bodily fluids it was so much more pleasant to let their muscles turn to water, eyes sliding closed to welcome the blanket of exhaustion settling down over them. It was hard sometimes, Tobirama mused, to really believe that this was all real. He supposed he could understand the panic in Madara’s eyes when his partner showed up tonight. It was always the softest moments, the ones that should be nothing but appreciated, that made one question if this could all be little more than a fanciful dream. 

But he knew that, as it had every other day, the morning would come and with it would come terrible breath, bickering over who should cook breakfast, and a hundred new moments to appreciate this man who had grown so dear to him. What they had was so far from any predictions he’d once had of his own future; it was so much more. 

They were happy. They made each other happy. And that was so much more important that the how or why of it all. 

“‘M fallin’ ‘sleep,” Madara announced in a sleepy mumble. 

“That is what one does in a bed.” Tobirama’s snarky reply was softened somewhat by the yawn that blurred the majority of his words. 

He heard some sort of vague rebuttal being grumbled in to his hair. Whatever it was Madara was trying to say was mostly lost to the pull of dreams as he fell willingly in to sleep’s embrace. When he was sure that his partner was well and truly unconscious Tobirama dredged up the strength to shift his body just a little closer, curling them together just a little bit tighter, and smiled the sort of gentle mushy smile he hoped no one would ever see on his face. 

“I love you,” he whispered one last time. “You dumb ass.” 

Then he closed his eyes and let the darkness take him onward towards another day in their version of a happy ever after. 

[ducktracy]

179. rover’s rival (1937)

release date: october 9th, 1937

series: looney tunes

director: bob clampett

starring: mel blanc (porky, puppy), robert c. bruce (rover)

at long last, rover’s rival makes history before the short even begins: this is the first cartoon to debut the opening using “the merry go round broke down”, as well as the first cartoon to have porky bursting out of the drum at the end (which i believe is animated by sid sutherland? for the 1937-1938 season anyway). the merry go round broke down would be the longest running theme song—even the merrie melodies would drop “merrily we roll along” in favor of the former in 1964. quite a feat indeed!

the cartoon itself is a fun one (as are the clampett porkys of the 1937-1938 season, a particularly strong one): porky is eager to teach his old dog rover new tricks, despite the old saying. a plucky little pup is just as eager to out-perform the old pooch, much to the displeasure of porky and rover.

the structured, spherical, well-constructed close-up of porky as he peruses a book on how to teach your dog new tricks (by author clawed meatly, no less!) can only be attributed to john carey’s hand at the cartoon’s open. porky babbles on in excitement (”oh be-boy, here’s a honey of a-a trick to teach my deh-dee-deh-do-de-dee—eh-pooch!”), wasting no time to jump out of his chair and grab the necessary toys to entertain his pup. for an expository sequence, the scene flows quickly but smoothly, especially the scene where porky grabs the hoop and the ball to play with rover. there are no cuts, and he doesn’t stop to grab either—he just glides along, propelled by his giddiness.

juxtaposition is key to comedy, and here is no exception: clampett does a great job of building up to rover’s reveal. porky dashes to rover’s doghouse, calling fragmented commands to whatever lies within the kennel. “ol’ strongheart”, as porky calls him, is finally introduced with a triumphant fanfare. hold on the still of the doghouse, and our hero enters:

note how the book porky was reading wasn’t titled “new tricks to teach your old dog”. there are no clues that porky’s faithful companion is a withered, tired, geriatric old dog (except for maybe all of the positive reinforcement—that is, “ol’ strongheart”, the fanfare, porky’s excitement—which makes itself too good to be true). chuck jones is, of course, behind the animation of rover’s entrance. once again, part of the three key identifiers to chuck jones animation: dogs, drunks, and close-ups. sometimes all three!

porky tells rover that they’ll try a couple of easy tricks “to weh-warm up”. as rover follows his owner’s order to sit up, remnants of the more comic strip looking iwerks shorts sprinkle in to the animation of rover’s vertebrae cracking as he slowly sits up--little stars and lines (accompanied by treg brown’s excellent creaking sound effects) further just how weak and old porky’s faithful companion is. if we still had any doubt, our suspicions are confirmed as rover answers porky’s command to roll over in the voice of an old man’s (provided by robert c. bruce, who would narrate a good number of upcoming cartoons): “eeeeh?”

enter the antagonist, a perfect, pint-sized foil: rover’s rival, a tiny little pest of a pup who tinkers into the scene. he spots rover struggling to roll over and winks knowingly at the audience, jabbing a thumb in a gesture that reads “get a load of this guy!” interesting to note, they don’t cut away to the pup’s introduction--rather, the camera zooms in as the pooch gets closer to the action, a fade leading to the next shot. a subtle but nice move that brings the audience along with the pesky little rival and evokes a sense of involvement, menial as it may seem.

bobe cannon animates the close-up of rover struggling to roll over, repeatedly flopping to one side. the stray pup offers to display a shred of neighborliness by blowing on rover as he gets close to actually rolling over, once more tipping him back where he started. 

porky, undeterred, moves to a new tactic: the ol’ jump through the hoop trick. he signals for his faithful companion to do so, and is taken aback as the little pup jumps through instead. great joke after: porky eyes the now broken hoop, turning around as he curses “aww, neh-ne-nu-ne--shucks!” as he does so, the absence of the hoop reveals a metallic pan hanging on the side of the house, which rover (still following porky’s orders) crashes right into. wonderful timing and wonderful sound effects. 

the rival pooch approaches a dazed and confused rover (with a double exposure cuckoo clock springing out of rover’s head and cooing wildly to suggest as such), barking up a storm before snarling in a high pitched, nasally voice “ya old antique! why, you can’t teach an old dog new tricks! why don’tcha give yourself up?”

despite the pup’s incessant bullying, porky is still determined to go against the age old saying. as he offers for rover to catch a rubber ball, rover chews out the smug pup, raving about young whippersnappers. “watch THIS!” rover awaits the ball thrown into the air with an open mouth, leading to some prime scheme hatching opportunities for the pup. 

there’s some nice dry brush action to convey the movement as the puppy lugs a conveniently placed pumpkin and throws it into the air with a some effort, which lands squarely in rover’s maw (much to the bewilderment of porky.) dry brushing would be everywhere in the 40′s cartoons--and i say that lovingly, it’s an art!--but it’s awfully interesting to find it in a 30′s cartoon. you’d be amazed at the variety of ways it can convey speed or motion! 

john carey does some wonderful animation of the pup’s comeuppance, now touting the ball in its mouth and giving a self-satisfied, quiet “yea, man!” (a reoccurring catchphrase in the cartoons of the late ‘30′s) before launching into a showboating routine. he bounces the ball onto his back legs, juggling it and even turning into a seal--barks and all--as he balances the ball on his nose, putting poor old rover to shame. instead of having the pup act like a seal, his hind legs melt together to form an actual fin, pushing the gag further. it’s a great little detail, and the jaunty score of “’cause my baby says it’s so” serves as another plus.

ending the routine, the pup opts to berate rover more, who grows tearful from the barrage of insults. “you mean t’ say... i’m one of them thar... used-to-was-es?” the prick pooch imitates rover’s speech (and appearance, his face saggy and wrinkly--to quote the cartoons, “a reasonable facsimile”): “yes, i mean to say, you’re one of them there used-to-was-es!”

finally, porky intervenes: “hey, don’t eh-imic-eh-ick-eh... don’t imic-eh-eh... don’t mimic rover, he’s eh-see-eh-ss-ehh-sensitive!” so, of course, the pup magically gains a few pounds in the face to mirror porky, stuttering back in a nasally voice (more than normal) “eh-geh-geh-geh-gee, i’m sorry to hear eh-theh-theh-eh-theh-that!” he snarls at porky in comically ear-splitting volume, rendering porky hurt for a despair-filled two seconds. but, of course, he’s back to his excitable old self after he finds another trick for rover to do. 

clever decision to make the trick a “surprise”: we don’t find out what it is until after rover excitedly dashes over to porky (doing a running take in mid-air as he struggles to gain traction). the trick is simple: fetch the stick. porky tosses the stick, prompting the pup to lean up against porky’s belly nonchalantly and give a monotone, condescending countdown: “one... two... three... seven... eight... two... nine... ten...”

predictably, the puppy grows impatient, and darts off screen to outperform rover once more. rover, on the other hand, takes his sweet time picking up the stick, which proves to be to his detriment as the pup swoops in last second to grab it. i love the “shiver take” on the lower body of the pup as he slides away with the stick (another “yea, man!”, no less)--little touches like that to remind us that this is a ‘30′s cartoon are much appreciated, on my end at least. nevertheless, rover still goes in for the bite, spitting out a mouthful of dirt.

porky and the pup play a quick round of spiteful tug of war with the stick. porky manages to free the stick from the ever menacing jaws of the beast, insisting that it’s rover’s turn to get it. he throws it again, and this time rover does manage to grab it: but his dentures free from his mouth, clamping down on the immobilized stick on the ground, returning with a mouthful of nothing but saliva. pooch, on the other hand, returns the stick--dentures and all. this drawing speaks for itself in how funny it is, porky’s befuddlement always a plus.

rover inserts his dentures before getting the stick a third time, whereas porky pins down the pup (who’s winding up to retrieve it once more.) the timing of porky pinning the pup is excellent: the jump itself is only six frames, and all on ones, making it go by in an instant. treg brown’s thumping sound effect of porky pinning his entire weight down on such a small creature is the icing on the cake. 

seeing as this is a cartoon, and a warner bros. one at that, the stick lands in a site filled with dynamite. so, of course, it’s only logical for a senile old dog to confuse his stick with a stick of dynamite explicitly labeled as such. rover retrives the dynamite and brings it back to an overjoyed porky (holding the pup by the turtleneck). bobe cannon animates porky gloating to the pup: “see? rover got the s-eh-ss-ehh... he got the suh-eh-seh...” 

polite head pats from porky turns into porky thrusting rover’s face into the ground as he does a take, finally realizing that he’s holding ”DYNAMITE!!!” the dynamite physically clings to porky’s hand as he aimlessly thrashes around in attempt to throw it, finally managing to do so. the pooch runs off to catch it, whereas rover inquires “dynamite!?” and does some running of his own. 

dashing inside the house, rover plops himself into porky’s armchair with urgency as chuck jones animates the hilarious close-up of rover frantically thumbing through a dictionary, mumbling and sweating all the way. the dead-eye and reading glasses are the perfect touch to top off the gag. 

elsewhere, the pooch returns to porky with the dynamite, whispering another satisfied “yea, man!” as a job well done. porky is quick to throw the dynamite off into the distance, ordering “ee-eh-GO HOME, WILL YA!?” after the pup retrieves the dynamite once more, we’re treated with a GREAT scene by chuck jones as bob clampett’s love of magic tricks give us rapidly appearing dynamite sticks, pulled out of the infinite pockets of the pooch. chuck’s animation of porky frantically pulling on an interminable string of dynamite sticks (in the same manner of the old never-ending handkerchief trick) is especially smooth and a delight to see (animated on ones.) the upbeat score of “nagasaki” also compliments the scene nicely, reflecting the frenzied action. 

eventually, the altercation turns into a rapid fire throwing match between pig and pup, dynamite sticks flying. porky struggles to catch all of the sticks, but does so anyway. the nuisance of a pup adds insult to injury by sticking dynamite sticks in porky’s mouth and ears (which would be revisited 13 years later in chuck jones’ classic the ducksters), segueing into a standard but great gag: the pooch asks if porky has a match on him. porky thinks for a split second, and, out of the goodness (or, gullibility rather) of his heart, reaches into his pile of explosives and pulls out a match. 

the pooch lights all of the dynamite in porky’s possession as we cut to rover, still frantically thumbing through the D section in the dictionary. back to porky, who frantically scales a tree after recognizing his peril. the persistent puppy pops out from a bird’s nest full of baby birds, offering a terrified porky a plethora of dynamite sticks. with the same speed as he went up the tree, porky flies back down to the ground, where he STILL can’t catch a break. cue one of my favorite mel blanc deliveries as the pooch appears from the bottom of the tree, forking over a dynamite-lit birthday cake. porky rejects the pup’s birthday wishes with an ear-splitting “uh-teh-ee-eh-tee-eh-tee-ehTAKE IT AWAY!!!!!!!!!!!!”

once more to rover, who finally uncovers the definition of the elusive dynamite: “noun. ‘a high explosive.’ EXPLOSIVE!?” he runs like he’s never ran before as he darts out of the house. back to porky in a hilariously staged shot, praying incomprehensibly to himself as he’s surrounded in a barricade of dynamite, the sadistic puppy laughing and pointing at him in the process. 

thankfully, rover comes to the rescue: he scoops up the barricade of explosives, carrying the bundle in his mouth as he runs away to expose of the danger. of course, that doesn’t stop the puppy, who manages to lift rover up (with a gleeful grin towards the audience as he does so), turning him around and bringing him back to porky. porky tosses the dynamite away, inadvertently disposing of rover’s dentures along with the bundle. yet, like before, the pesky pooch returns with the dentures in his mouth, dynamite sizzling away in between the false teeth. 

some lovely, dimensional angles of the pup sweeping across the screen and into the foreground as he and rover engage in a high stakes game of tug of war. in ‘30′s cartoons, animation is bound to be rubbery, especially in a clampett cartoon, but the decision to turn the dynamite into the consistency of rubber to demonstrate the push and pull of the two forces is a nice touch. rover manages to grab a hold of the bundle of dynamite, his own dentures snapping him right in the nose.

the gag isn’t staged very well and gets lost in the action, but rover’s dentures fly into the air as he dashes away once more to dispose of the dynamite. the dentures land back on a nearby tree branch, snagging onto the pup’s tail and causing him to dangle aimlessly from the branch. the same type of gag would be used just a few months prior on ub iwerks’ porky and gabby, which clampett also had involvement in. as the cherry on top, rover returns briefly to shake porky’s hand in a sorrowful but respectful goodbye. porky covers himself just in time for the explosion offscreen, marked by an orchestral resolution chord and a sign from the dynamite site that lands conveniently in the scene: “WE’VE BLASTED!”

both porky and his sadistic little puppy friend are quick to rush to the scene of the crime. the drawing of rover lying flat on the ground is confusing at first glance: he’s supposed to be covered in dirt, but the transparency of the cel and two dimensional line work of the dirt covering him make it appear as though rover had been dismembered in the process--gruesome, isn’t it? nevertheless, the pup proves to be much more mournful than porky, actually displaying a shred of empathy as he tearfully chats up rover, blabbering on about how he didn’t mean any of it, rover is capable of learning new tricks, and that he’s “the best little stick-bringer-backer that ever was.”

as to be expected, rover pops up, perfectly fine, just in time for the iris out: “do ya mean it?”

bob clampett has the most porky entries out of any director, and while i frequent his the most, this is one i continue to forget about. which is a shame on my part, because it’s so much fun! right off the bat i say you should go watch this one, it’s a lot of fun. while it’s nowhere near as boundary breaking as clampett’s later films, it’s still rife with energy and life. i love how the gags are often pushed to being taken literally: the pup’s hind legs turning into a fin as he mimics a seal, his face contorting to match rover’s and porky’s, the “WE’VE BLASTED!” sign after warnings of “DANGER -- WE’RE GONNA BLAST” sprinkle up between shots, and so forth. moreover, there’s some fine animation in this one, from john carey and chuck jones especially. the seal scene with the pup and the never-ending dynamite are probably my favorites, though there are a ton of funny shots as is, such as the pup with the dentures and porky praying as the pup openly mocks him. 

of course, it’s not perfect--the animation is messier in some places than others, and you could argue that the back and forth structure of the gags could grow repetitive, but the benefits certainly outweigh the negatives. this is a fun early piece that reflects how far the cartoons have come, but also demonstrates that there’s much to look forward to it. go check it out!

link!

[undercooked-ravioloni]

henlo could i maybe request some bloody painter x reader fluff?

hello hello, this was ready a while ago but needed some polishing

i actually really like it so hopefully, you do too <3 thanks for the request !

— makeshift picnic || bloody painter x reader

Helen stood still, one foot on the next step in front of him, his knee supporting the box propped on top of it. He tossed his head back, but the strands persisted, coming in to obstruct his view as soon as he straightened his neck again. He huffed, his black hair floating up in the air before flopping back down in front of his face. A small laugh reached his ears from the bottom of the stairs and he didn’t even have to glance back to know who it was, but he did so anyway. You smiled innocently at him before starting up the stairs. He smiled back ever-so-slightly and, lifting the cardboard box up from its pedestal on his leg, he finished his climb to the second floor and headed into the first door on his right. Kicking the ajar-door open, he stepped inside and delivered the box to where it belonged. You followed him in soon after and stopped him before he could leave for the next set.

“Hold up just a moment,” You said, making him raise an eyebrow at you. You hurried across the room before hurrying right back, your backpack in hand. Fishing into the front pocket, you pulled out a spare hair tie, overjoyed to have purpose. You gently raked your fingers through his hair and, pulling strands of it back as delicately as possible so to not hurt him, you brought them all together into a small ponytail. Patting him on the back, you glanced at his significantly more visible features, a dreamy smile on your lips. He was oh-so-handsome – his blue eyes, his light skin, his slender nose and thin lips and no hair to hide away the view.

“That is so much better, isn’t it?” He hummed in confirmation, eyes meeting yours. He put his hand on top of the one you had on his shoulder.

“Now come on,” He said. “We better get your stuff up here before it turns dark.”

So you spent the day moving your packed stuff up to your new suite, which was what your humble young-person-salary could afford you at the moment, and assembling ikea furniture with your boyfriend.

As you worked on assembling the very last drawer, Helen wrestled with the outline of the dresser. His mouth twisted up in a bit of a scowl as he tried to push in the little wooden piece.

“… [Y/n].”

Your head perked up at the mention of your name. The grumpy look on his face and his outstretched hands, with the wooden pieces in his palms, told you all you needed to know. Your boyfriend, so pretty, with such delicate hands, was not the man to call when brute force was required. You took the contents of his hand, flashing him a small smile and sat cross-legged next to him. One shove of the hand was enough to push the piece into its designated hole and to join the rest of the parts with it.

At long last, the whole of it was assembled and so, as your boyfriend held it in place, you pushed the drawers in and out, watching as they came to and fro smoothly. The male smiled at the small success. You glanced up at him and leaned on the now-open drawer you were playing with moments ago.

“Thanks for the help, Helen,” You smiled softly at him. “I don’t know how I would’ve done this without you.”

“You brought up most of the boxes anyway,” He stated matter-of-factly.

“Truuuue, but you’re good moral support.”

He raised his eyebrows at you and then proceeded to roll his eyes. Laughing a bit, you reached up to the top of the dresser, putting your hands on his.

“I’ll go make us something to eat, okay?” Heaving yourself up, you patted his hand and stole a quick kiss from him before walking away. The black-haired boy made himself as comfortable as possible on the wooden floorboards, back leaning against the furniture you two had just assembled together, hands already fidgeting with the hem of his black shirt.

“Uuuum,” You dragged on, peering into the fridge. “We’re out of bread. Or rather, I never had any bread. Could you go fetch some? There was a convenience store nearby, if you remember.”

He glanced over and nodded.

“Yeah, I got it.” He got up and left, but not before giving you a peck on the cheek.

When Helen came back, bread in hand, he didn’t quite expect to find you sitting on the blanket he had gotten you, on the floor, a series of ingredients sprawled out around your form – a makeshift picnic. One of your lamps, the one you usually had on the table next to your bed, was to your left, emitting a halo of soft yellow hues, basking the rest of the apartment in the shadows.

“Ta daaaa,” You exclaimed, gesturing to the little feast in front of you. “I thought I should thank you for all your hard word today, so this is a dinner date à la [Y/n], low budget edition.”

He couldn’t help but smile. Taking on your best game-night-host voice, you continued.

“We start with a non-organic, not-at-all vegan mayonnaise and move our way to the finest of tomatoes that survived not only the hour drive on the way here but also being left in the car for another five or so. Finally, the star of the show, cheese that’s just cold enough not to be deliciously gooey and just warm enough to be disgustingly not firm. Oh, and, of course-”

He held up the bread to which you pointed.

“The whitest, unhealthiest of breads.”

Helen let out a small laugh, joining you on the blanket. Delighted by his reaction, a bright smile graced your features. One of your hands slowly made its way to his, not-so-sneakily slipping underneath.

“This has to be our best date yet,” He commented quietly.

“Even better than the art museum date?”

“The best,” He repeated with a chuckle. He intertwined his fingers with yours  before leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

Sitting there, in the glow of the lamp, hand-in-hand with you, Helen felt at home.