#i hope you had a good night's sleep following all the giggling and hee hee ing HEHEHEHE

[eightmakesonebraincell]

ahhhh!!! i'm so glad to hear!!! writing such a long fic i really try to make sure that it flows well and that the progression of relationships seems natural and realistic, so it makes me so happy to know that that's how it was portrayed 💃🕺

AND NOT YOU STAYING UP LATE TO READ MY FIC 😭😭😭 THAT'S HONESTLY ONE OF THE HIGHEST COMPLIMENTS (and yes i'm very glad you didn't have work in the morning too 🤭 definitely a good way to stay up late then 🤭)

no thank you for reading and for leaving such lovely feedback all the time <33 i hope you have a wonderful day and week and all the hugs and kithes in the world to you too my dear 🥹🫶

our leaves must fall before our flowers can bloom

genre: poly hockey team!ateez x coach fem!reader, enemies/strangers to lovers, athlete!au, slow burn, fluff, angst

length: 37.6k

c/w: sweaty and athletic ateez (warning well deserved), explicit profanity, themes of corruption and rocky family relationships, trauma, hurt/comfort, injuries, kissing, boys are in an established relationship, m x m interactions

synopsis: you become the new coach of the elite men's ice hockey team, the red devils. but with both yourself and the team carrying burdens of the past, you all find it difficult to see eye to eye. as you lead them to the championships in the korean ice hockey league, you discover that teamwork and trust is not as straightforward as it seems.

a/n: it has made me incredibly touched to see so many of my readers from the essence of youth come back to support this new oneshot. thank you from the bottom of my heart ♡ and as always, this fic would not have been possible without @sorryimananti-romantic and her undying support

if someone were to ask yunho–or anybody on the team–when he feels the most alive, his answer would be the same every single time: when he is on the ice, just like he is right now.

the air of the rink is already chilly, but with the added cold of emerging autumn, each rugged lungful he takes fills his chest with vigour. only his own heavy breathing can be heard as the rest of the players’ shouts become muffled into the background outside of his helmet. he tightens his grip on his stick, muscles locked and engaged with adrenaline. his vision narrows, an opening suddenly clearing itself through the tangle of sticks and jungle of skates–a golden opportunity for him to take.

“san!” he yells.

their usual goaltender glances upwards as he handles the puck rebounding off the boards. his jaw tightens and with a practised flick of his wrist, san chips the puck over an incoming stick’s attempt to block the pass. there’s a burst of explosive power as yunho speeds up along the opposite boards to receive the landing puck, hoping to break away from the opposing team’s offensive players before he passes it off.

the flash of a blue jersey appears in yunho’s vision with alarming momentum. they lower and widen their stance, shoulder positioned in front ready to knock him directly into the boards in an attempt to steal the puck, leaving yunho with no choice but to mirror their actions. he braces himself as the opponent rams into him with more force than a usual play, and in combination with their own towering height, yunho finds himself being pushed into the plexiglass panels as he loses possession of the puck.

involuntarily, he lets out a threatening growl of vexation. there is a teasing chuckle from the other player that still has him pinned against the wall despite the continuing game, which clearly tells him that the excessive body check was deliberate. yunho has half a mind to flip their positions, knowing he could easily overpower the other. but before he can adjust his stick out of the way to make good use of his hands, the opponent playfully knocks their helmets together.

“you’re hot when you get all competitive and riled up.”

all of the tension escapes yunho’s body, because he will never not find mingi’s attempts to flirt mid-game–with his mouthguard and resultant bumbling pronunciation–to be amusing. he endearingly rolls his eyes and sighs, “have you not heard of, ‘don’t poke the bear’?”

“you’re not a bear, though,” mingi squirms cheekily on the spot, still up in yunho’s personal space because he knows the older will never be truly annoyed by his antics. “you’re just a cute, harmless puppy.”

before mingi can blink, yunho grabs him by the shoulders and pins him against the wall. yunho smirks, “and they also say, ‘let sleeping dogs lie’.”

wooyoung tongues his cheek with mischief at the sight of the two, nice and cosy against the walls of the rink. he hands his stick off to seonghwa, who is starting to remove his helmet, and skates in their direction, ignoring the dull throb in his left ankle. wooyoung only bothers to slow himself down slightly, instead letting his trajectory be cushioned by something else.

mingi lets out a pathetic noise as the air is squeezed out of his chest from the impact of wooyoung and yunho’s added weight. the latter grunts out, a little breathless, “woo, please, you’re going to knock somebody out like this one day.”

it goes in one ear and out the other as wooyoung grins up at him to state, “seonghwa scored so we lost ‘cause you were too busy making out with mister mingles here.”

yunho pushes off the wall to free himself from the sandwich of bodies and pivots on his skates to jab wooyoung’s padded chest. “you and san were doing the exact same thing just five minutes ago.”

“we’re on the same team,” wooyoung shrugs, “whereas mingi is not, so you’re fraternising with the enemy. now come on losers, captain’s wrapping up practice.”

the three of them glide along the ice to rejoin the rest of the team, where they are stepping out of the rink to sit on the benches. they remove their helmets and start unlacing their skates as hongjoong gathers the attention of the team.

“great work from everybody today, especially you, jongho. your backhand wrist shots are improving–keep it up. now just a reminder to everyone that our regular games start next week so i want you all to make sure you are stretching and cooling down properly,” he emphasises. he pointedly looks at yeosang, who has already begun to wander his way off to the changerooms, at the same time that seonghwa scruffs him by the back of his jersey and gently tugs him back to the team.

jongho peels off his blue practice jersey as he scans the arena and absentmindedly asks, “is coach still not here? it’s already the end of practice.”

“he said he had something to sort out today, but would come round if everything went well,” seonghwa answers, also craning his neck to look for signs of their coach.

from where you and coach cho are watching from the designated scouting area in the arena, the team is unable to spot you two. you had come from the final negotiations of your contract with coach cho and had watched their team, the red devils, play the last period of their game. despite it only being a friendly match amongst the team’s players, you have already grasped a sense of their playing style–it is heavy on the offensive at the expense of defence, just like how you used to play. it is fast-paced, aggressive and…prone to injury.

“let’s go meet the team,” coach cho voices, making his way out of the viewing area as you follow beside him. all the players look up from their skates that they are still unlacing or from their stretches on the floor when you two near the arrangement of benches surrounding the rink. they greet coach cho enthusiastically and you can see why from the way the older man smiles at them like they are his own sons.

“y/n, this is the team, the red devils–my pride and joy. boys, this is y/n,” he introduces. “i had to miss practice to meet up with y/n and make sure she was happy to sign on as part of the red devils.”

said team gives you disinterested glances, a complete change from the receptivity with which they respond to coach cho. one of the red-jerseyed boys, who you recognise as wooyoung, utters sarcastically, “cute, but we don’t need a mascot or cheerleader.”

coach cho chuckles lightly, “she’s your new coach.”

“hold on, you were serious about–” “–are you coaching a different team–” “–you don’t want us anymore?”

some of the boys erupt into a barrage of questions, trying to make sense of the sudden announcement, whereas the others stay quiet, flickers of flashbacks stirring up from within the depths of their memories. their coach raises his hands to settle them as he apologises, “i didn’t want to say anything before i was one hundred percent sure that things would go ahead, and i wasn’t sure whether y/n would accept the offer.”

“is it because your wife is due soon?” san interrupts.

coach cho nods, “with twins, and i want to be present to help–as a husband and a father. but that just isn’t feasible as your coach, as much as i love you boys.”

training as professional athletes takes incredible perseverance, discipline and commitment. there are early mornings, late nights, weekends and public holidays. it takes sacrifices in the form of time and relationships, especially when they must travel away from home for up to weeks on end to compete in matches. and with the start of the regular season, the intensity is only going to ramp up. as hard as the athletes train, the coach works twice as hard to make it all possible.

the team needs somebody to be there for them to ensure they make it into the playoffs, and it just won’t be fair for anybody–the players and his own family–if coach cho were to keep his position. and the team gets it, they really do, but–

“she’s the new coach?” yunho frowns in confusion. “no offence, but we’re not a bunch of kids for her to practise being a soccer mum to.”

“she was the assistant coach for the grey eagles,” coach cho discloses.

“the grey eagles? the under-21 men’s championship team?” yeosang looks incredulous.

mingi sceptically comments, “the fact that we’ve never seen or heard of her before probably tells us enough.”

hongjoong’s lips purse sourly as he tries his hardest to analyse the situation with the professionalism of the team’s captain. but with the sudden change in coaches and the same critiquing doubts as mingi, hongjoong cannot help but feel his personal judgement webbing over his mind. over the team’s entire career as an elite ice hockey team thus far–five years, now well into their sixth–the red devils have only ever had two coaches. coach cho has been with them for the longest and whilst it took the team a while to eventually warm up to him, he has been with them for almost quadruple the amount of time it took to trust him.

the team’s alternate captain, seonghwa, speaks to you directly, “if you don’t mind me asking, why are you not playing as an athlete yourself? you’re clearly our age–nowhere near retiring.”

you knew from the very start that your age would make your credibility as a coach much lower, and your answer to seonghwa will not help your case either. “i stopped playing.”

“how come?”

the trigger of memories fills your nose with a sharp stinging smell. you blankly reveal, “i chose to stop playing.” you know exactly how it sounds like to somebody else, even more so to professional athletes. coach cho has also told you of the team’s hardheadedness and strong will when it comes to the passions of their career, so you are expecting the cold receptiveness that you are met with.

your response strikes the wrong chord within wooyoung. there was a point in his career not too long ago when the choice of continuing to play or not was at risk of becoming a forced decision. the way you answer so callously with those very words that had threatened to tear his world apart has his jaw grinding and eyes darkening, and he is not the only athlete in the arena who feels similarly.

“i would rather choose to die before i choose to stop playing. ice hockey is my entire life and without it, i am not living either,” hongjoong jabs and you cannot help but clench your fists because you know exactly what he means. still, you stay quiet as he continues, “sorry, but i can’t respect a ‘coach’ who chose to stop playing.”

at the captain’s words and subsequent move to leave for the changerooms, the rest of the team also gather their equipment and follow his steps. san’s feet falter in front of you, expression hesitant until he decides to voice, “our team needs a bit of time. it’s hard for us to warm up to…outsiders, and i know it might not mean much to say this but we have our reasons. don’t expect us to blindly trust you just because you’re a coach.”

the use of the word ‘outsider’ does not go unnoticed as you nod, “of course.”

san jogs off to rejoin the others and coach cho hums, “guess some things haven’t changed. they were just as prickly to me when i first became their coach.”

you raise an eyebrow, “prickly? to you?”

“yes, believe it or not,” he chuckles nostalgically. “we’ve come a long way because i’ve been their coach for years now. but it took me a while before i was able to break down their walls.”

you briefly mull over the information, then ask out of curiosity, “what would you have done if i didn’t sign the contract?”

“begged you to rethink your decision,” he jokes with a pleased chortle. “i would have to start looking for a different coach, i suppose. you were my only pick.”

“but why me, of all people? there are so many other experienced coaches that you can choose from.”

he looks at you, eyes glinting with intuition and confidence as he simply says, “you’re familiar with their playing style. they play just like you used to.” at your silent processing, coach cho probes, “why didn’t you tell them the real reason?”

you smile wistfully, “i didn't tell them because i’m not here to gain their pity.”

some of the boys’ voices grow louder as they emerge from the changerooms, changed into fresh clothes and their kit bags slung over their shoulders. you hear one of them ask, “captain, is she really going to be our new coach?”

they step out from the facility’s corridor and you accidentally make eye contact with hongjoong, yet neither of you look away. maintaining a steady gaze directly at you, he responds with a slight glower, “maybe, but she’s only the coach by title. i’m still the captain of the team, so let’s see who everyone listens to.”

as they exit the rink’s arena, you feel a fire of determination growing inside of you. you have won over your own demons and you have won the championships before–this is nothing in comparison. whether your next words are for coach cho or for yourself to hear, it does not matter.

“i may not play anymore but i was still once an athlete, and no athlete has ever, in their career, wanted pity. i’m here to earn the team’s respect and i will win over them, especially their captain.”

you watch the swing of the glass door as it shuts behind the players, catching a brief glimpse of the trees lining the arena’s perimeter. it is the first day of autumn when you meet the red devils for the first time and outside, the leaves are beginning to change their colours.

autumn, 2018: pre-season

hongjoong believes all coaches are to be respected. it does not matter what kind of team they coach, how many years of experience they have, or whether they have built up a reputation for themselves. to hongjoong, respect for coaches is not something earned nor negotiable–it is something well-deserved and expected, as is for anybody in a position that is higher in the chain of command.

he may be the captain of their unofficial team, but hongjoong knows that the way a team can place their blind trust in the coach is irreplaceable, regardless of how much the other players rely on him too.

hongjoong watches as his boys carry out the practice drill he has set up for them. yeosang handles the puck around the cones before passing it to wooyoung, primed offensively near the goal to make a quick shot, who groans when his shot rebounds off the post. as he retrieves the disc, yeosang takes over wooyoung’s position near the goal ready to receive yunho’s pass as he starts to work his way through the cones next.

they are limited in the type of drills they can practise because hongjoong was only able to rent half of the community rink for a measly two hours. the boys are not even in proper uniform, wearing only their shin guards under their sweatpants and gloves on their hands to prevent any injuries when the centre had stated very firmly they would not be allowed in with their bulky equipment.

and yet, none of this has dampened the boys’ spirits. san teasingly brags that it is his chance to show off his skills other than goaltending, and jongho thanks hongjoong quietly for renting the rink in the first place. their understanding nods and comforting hugs make hongjoong’s heart clench, even more so as the team eagerly and diligently practise the drills in mediocre conditions but with fiery determination to prove their worth as newly-signed athletes under the kq blue birds.

this is exactly why hongjoong is driven to find them a coach–any coach: to give his boys a solid pillar they can rely on, because he himself lacks the resources and strings to pull in order to fulfil their shared dreams. he needs to keep his boys as one team, instead of scattered into other teams as extra players like a gracious opportunity for the leftovers, since kq does not yet have a coach available for the eight of them.

“captain!”

the excitement in seonghwa’s voice startles hongjoong more than the speed at which the alternate captain skates towards him. seonghwa digs his skates into the ice at the last second, stopping himself just shy of knocking the other over as he exclaims, “he emailed back!”

“the coach you reached out to?” hongjoong clarifies, eyes growing wide.

having caught wind of his signed contract as a professional athlete, an acquaintance of seonghwa’s had reached out offering to pass on the contact of their acquaintance, who apparently knew somebody with coaching experience. it was rare for a coach to take on a rookie team unless there were incredible benefits, so he and hongjoong had drafted and sent an email with little to no expectations for a reply. but seonghwa’s furious nodding is telling otherwise, and his eyes sparkle as he shoves his phone in hongjoong’s face to show him the email.

dear mr park, thank you for your interest and for reaching out with your proposal. i have looked at your athlete profiles and it appears that you all have big dreams and extremely promising futures. it would be my utmost pleasure to help you all reach your true potential by coaching your team. if you would like to arrange a meeting in person to discuss expectations and conditions regarding training, competitions and future championships prior to finalising the contracts with your company, please let me know what times and dates best suit yourself and your team captain, mr kim. i look forward to working with you all. kind regards, coach yeon

“holy shit,” hongjoong steadies seonghwa’s giddy hand to read the email again. when he reaches the last line, he starts once more from the beginning to make sure his eyes are not lying to him. then he breathes out with finality, “holy shit. am i reading this right?”

“yeah, joong. you’re reading it right.”

hongjoong is not often one to be affectionate with the others, but yanking seonghwa into a bone-crushing hug as he repeats holy shit like a mantra is the only response he is able to muster. the older laughs wetly, throat constricting with overwhelming joy and he holds onto his captain until the other pulls back.

“you tell them, okay?” seonghwa does not wait for a response before he is raising his voice to gather the others, “boys! hongjoong has good news for us!”

like puppies responding to the call of food, their heads immediately perk up and they abandon the puck and the drill to speed towards their two captains. there is a clamour of questions as they enthusiastically predict what is going to be said.

“are they letting us use the rink for longer?”

wooyoung squeezes himself in between yunho and mingi to ask, “are we getting the whole rink?!”

“no way,” san gasps, “or did our practice jerseys arrive?”

hongjoong’s eyes soften at their guesses. his boys demand so little from him when he wants to give them everything they could never even think of asking for. he glances at seonghwa, who looks just about ready to burst from his own excitement, then reveals, “we’ve found a coach willing to take on our team.”

dead silence. yeosang blinks and wooyoung’s jaw drops. jongho, who had been lazily circling around the group, comically slows to a stop, joining the rest of the boys in frozen stupor. it is only broken when yunho dares to confirm, “does this mean we won’t be rostered as extras for other teams?”

everyone’s hopeful eyes look at hongjoong. he nods, “we’re staying together and playing as our own team.”

it is obvious the moment the information registers in their minds and the implications of what it means for the team’s future starts to sink in. they explode into a flurry of movement and hongjoong and seonghwa find themselves swept up into the middle of a clumsy group huddle as shouts are exchanged, uncaring of who is listening or talking.

“are we finally playing in championships with the big dogs?”

“we’re going to play interstate?”

“oh my god, what if we get into nationals?”

“nah, fuck that boys, let’s go international! we’re going to represent korea one day and become the best team in the world.”

the amount of voices overlapping one another are overwhelming, but it is overwhelming in the way that it makes hongjoong soar up into the clouds, wings stretched to their full span and carried by the hollers and cheers surrounding him in every direction. his cheeks hurt from smiling because these are the boys that he knows and loves.

they may only be a small team of eight, but they have dreams that are big enough to fill the entire universe.

“what’s the coaches name–” “–know if they’re a good coach–” “–teams have they coached before–”

seonghwa chuckles as the boys hound them with question after question and hongjoong appeases their curiosity dotingly, “we’ll find out when we meet him–coach yeon.”

but it does not matter what qualifications coach yeon has or does not have, and it does not matter what teams he has coached or has not coached before. what matters is that he is a coach and he is willing to be their coach, because it means that hongjoong and his boys are finally taking the next step towards their big dreams. 

and most importantly, they will be in this together…as the red devils.

autumn, present: regular season

“again.”

hongjoong grits his teeth, taking up his position as centre again in the marked circle for the practice drill. even during defensive faceoff plays, he and the team are accustomed to taking on an aggressive approach. when he wins possession of the puck, the wingers–usually yeosang and wooyoung, or jongho when substituted on–quickly breakaway and move forward with him into the offensive zone.

obviously, they have other strategic plays too to switch up the predictability of their tactics, such as moving the puck towards the board whilst yeosang covers him, or by passing the puck back to the mingi in defence. but overall, their team is capable of rapidly flipping from defensive to offensive play using the aggressive setup.

the practice drill you are currently running emphasises heavily on the defence–the reverse setup play. hongjoong is to pass backwards but in the direction of the boards whilst yeosang supports and wooyoung covers the area directly between the circle and san. mingi moves towards the boards to receive the puck, and their other defenceman, yunho, assists with covering the goal.

hongjoong does admit that this play is much safer and stabler, but it is also much slower and…cowardly. his team is called the red devils for a reason and their reputation as demons on ice is not something that he is going to throw away–not following years of blood, sweat and tears to stand back up after falling during their rookie year.

when he assumes his stance once again inside the faceoff circle opposite seonghwa, who is playing the centre position as the mock opponent, you drop the puck onto the centre dot. the moment it hits the ice, hongjoong clears it with his stick towards the right boards. it doesn’t go back far enough for mingi to receive though, so yeosang makes the split decision to burst sideways to retrieve the puck, all three forwards moving aggressively in synchronisation to advance offensively once he gains possession.

you stop them, shaking your head. “again.”

it has been a week since your first meeting with the team, and with the start of the regular season, training has focused on refining their strategies. the red devils are playing in the korean ice hockey league for the second time, an annual national championship with a singular men’s division.

teams from all over korea gather in seoul to compete in regular-season games at the gangneung ice arena against the other teams in rotation. depending on the number of participants, the red devils will need to play an average of three games a week for the next five to six months. then based on the outcome of the games, if your team scores within the top thirty two, they will be able to enter the playoffs.

last year, the red devils were only able to make it to the quarterfinals before they were knocked out. but considering it was their first time competing in a proper championship–as opposed to the rookie leagues and interstate competitions they competed in during the first four years of their career–making it into the top eight teams out of over a hundred or so teams was already impressive enough.

your team’s first regular-season game starts tomorrow, so it does not matter that this is the sixth time in a row that you have stopped them during this drill. you will make them restart until they perfect the play. with that in mind, you release the puck onto the centre dot of the circle once more, but this time seonghwa wins the faceoff, clearing it to the side where jongho is waiting as his left wing. seonghwa looks at you guiltily and anticipates the word that will come out of your mouth.

you bite your tongue, having sensed the rising tension amongst the team an hour ago, but now they are almost at their boiling point. closing your eyes briefly, you try reminding yourself to think about the situation from your players’ perspectives.

their career progression rides on this championship, and with their grit and determination, they will not settle for simply beating their own record in ranking. no, they vie for first place. only the top team secures a position in the international ice hockey league, the most coveted opportunity to represent korea in the championship between the world’s best teams.

and it is during this vital time–when the stress levels and stakes are as high as they can get–that the boys have suddenly had to change coaches. not only have they lost their most trusted support and guide, they have only had one week to adjust to their new one–you. in the grand scheme of things, one week is nowhere near enough time to develop any sort of meaningful relationship where they are able to listen to and rely on you.

taking a breath, you explain, “being so focused on offence leaves your team vulnerable if the opposing team also has aggressive forwards that you can’t break through. the faceoff play needs to be adjusted for those situations, otherwise it’ll be too difficult to control the puck and it will more than likely end up in chaos. it won’t be a game of professional skill anymore, but a circus of dirty play.”

your defence-focused coaching style has worked well for all the past teams you have taught, both men’s and women’s teams. you know that the boys play an offence-focused style; you are reminded too closely of your past self every time they rush head-on into every situation. and it is exactly because of that–because you know the dangers that come with their aggressive style–that you are making them adjust their play. their career comes first and if they suffer an injury, there may not be a career left.

so you will play the bad cop if you have to. they will come to understand you one day.

san bites down on his mouthguard as he listens from his position in the goal. he is able to see each and every play unfold, better than any other of his teammates, so he knows where you are coming from. whilst he has become used to the pressures that come with goaltending, no amount of training or competitions will ever fully eliminate the sudden spike in fear and anticipation the moment the opposing team’s forwards break past yunho and mingi.

san is the team’s last line of defence and the best outcome is that a game never comes down to just him, the opponent’s stick, and his goal. it is true that his team needs to work on their defensive plays, so when the others huff in defiance and reluctantly reset their positions, san simply lowers his centre of gravity in wait for your cue to restart the drill.

“again.”

outside the arena, the echo of sticks and scraping of skates sound faintly as the first leaf of autumn begins to fall to the ground. as time passes, the rest of the leaves will also succumb to a similar fate, only differing in how. some will fall in a slow and graceful descent, whilst others…

…a rapid and spiralling whirlwind downwards.

counting the heads and finding all eight of your players seated in the bus, you nod to the driver to close the door and start driving. most of the boys have chosen to sit on a two-seater by themselves, only yunho and mingi choosing to sit together. they share a set of wired earphones, eyebrows furrowed in concentration at one of their phones, likely monitoring one of their own matches or one of another team’s.

the rest of the boys sit alone, faces grim and tight as they stare out the window. they look exactly like you used to and it hits you with a wave of bittersweet nostalgia.

the ride to the competition venue–much less for the very first game of the season–is always the quietest, air strung tight with nerves as everyone prepares themselves psychologically for the inevitable pressures that the game will bring. being able to compose and centre one’s mindset is already half the battle won, and whilst nobody says it out loud, you all know that today’s results, despite it only being day one, will set the tone for the next four to five months as they fight to qualify for the playoffs.

as you make one final sweep from the back of the bus to the front whilst it pulls away from the curb, you accidentally make eye contact with yeosang. you give him a polite smile and he opens his mouth, closes it on second thought, then decides to ask anyway, “do you want to sit here?”

it is a lie to say that you are not surprised by the question, so you stumble over your response as you stammer, “oh, okay. thanks.”

yeosang reciprocates your noise of disorientation and when he fumbles to move his bag aside that had been occupying the space beside him, you belatedly realise he was only asking out of courtesy. but backtracking now and rejecting his offer would be a million times worse and you can only try to hide the flaming heat behind your cheeks as best as you can as you sit down in the seat.

he fiddles with the straps of his bag and you can feel his discomfort reeking off his hands. in an attempt to break the ice, you glance at him, “are you nervous for the game?”

he nods, “don’t think it gets any less nerve-wracking no matter how many games you play.”

“well this is a pretty big championship. you have every reason to feel nervous,” you hum.

yeosang levels you with a look. “are you trying to make me feel better or worse?”

you do not know him well enough to be able to discern whether he is joking with you or not. opting to clear your throat instead, you point out, “you have your teammates who you can trust.”

“yeah…teammates.”

and you have me, too, as your coach, you want to say.

the hopeful glimpse in the dark of your eyes is enough for yeosang to pick up on your thoughts. he swallows uncomfortably and looks away.

we don’t know that yet.

you bite the inside of your cheek, trying once more to extend the conversation after a pregnant pause. “did you guys have a coach before cho?” either you have a shitty sense of appropriate conversation starters or yeosang wants absolutely nothing to do with you (it is likely both, but one can be optimistic), because his shoulders tense almost immediately.

“we did…just one,” he starts off carefully. you think that that is going to be the end of it, but then he adds on, “we don’t really talk about him though.”

and there it is–the end of the conversation. it is his nice way of telling you that there is no more to be said, so you sit the rest of the ride in silence next to yeosang, pretending not to let the sheer awkwardness suffocate you.

when the bus arrives at the gangneung ice arena, you hurry to alight and only then do you feel like you are able to breathe again. you plaster on a smile and notify the boys, “your first game is in two hours against the panthers. you’ve been allocated locker room 3B.”

they make their way into the centre and you trail behind in wait as they find their designated space. warm-ups will be first so they will not be needing their full gear just yet, which means it should not take long for them to change.

inside the locker room, the red devils shrug off their bulky duffle bags and change into their game jerseys, lacing and relacing their skates to ensure the snuggest fits. hongjoong alerts, “boys, time to go out and start warming up,” receiving a chorus of acknowledgement as everyone grabs the rest of the gear that they need.

before jongho places his phone into his assigned locker, he habitually taps on the screen one last time to check for any notifications and finds a single text from his younger brother, jonghyuk. he knows he should not read it, much less right before his first game, but the smaller part inside him that yearns for his family’s recognition dares to hope for something. dragging the preview down to avoid opening it, jongho reads the text.

are you just going to keep pretending you haven’t read our messages?

jongho clenches his jaw and swipes the notification away as if that will also erase it from his mind. tossing his phone into the locker, he shuts it with a harsh swing, resting his forehead against the cool metal as he closes his eyes and breathes out shakily. this game–this championship–jongho has to win; he cannot afford to lose.

“captain.”

hongjoong turns around to see jongho striding up towards him, brows furrowed and voice troubled as he questions, “are we really not going to tell coach what our game plan is? shouldn’t we work together with her?”

“jongho,” the captain sighs, “we got lucky with coach cho, but we know better than anyone else that not all coaches are like him.”

from where he has been listening in on the conversation at the doors leading out of the locker room, seonghwa’s shoulders stiffen. there is a moment of silence; the rest of the team have already made their way to the ice rink.

“what if we lose?”

it is the way that his voice grows small and timid that hongjoong realises it is not his captain that jongho needs right now. hongjoong’s gaze softens as he searches the younger’s eyes, “did your family say something again?”

he receives no answer but it tells him more than enough. “you trust me?”

jongho’s almost imperceptible nod does not escape hongjoong’s observations, so he continues to reassure, “we’ll win. my boys are the best players, you included, and we already have experience playing in this competition.” he ducks down slightly to meet jongho’s gaze, “and even if we do lose? we lose because of our own skills–not because of anybody else.”

his words tug a small smile out of the corner of the youngest’s lips, and hongjoong returns it with a relieved smile. with a nudge, he sends jongho in the direction of the door, where seonghwa pretends to ruffle his hair affectionately knowing that it will be dodged. seonghwa chuckles lightly and watches him walk off, unbeknownst to his captain watching him.

“hey,” hongjoong calls out gently, “i know what you’re thinking, but that wasn’t what i meant.”

seonghwa looks back and winces, “i can’t help it.”

“and that’s why i will keep telling you no matter how many times you need to hear it. it is not your fault–never was, and never will be,” hongjoong cocks his head playfully as he raises an eyebrow.

“same goes to you then, captain,” seonghwa returns the banter, shoulders relaxing and head shaking, “not your fault either.”

“you’re right, so let’s get the fuck out there and smash our game, yeah?” hongjoong slings his arm around the other and leads them both out of the locker room to join the rest of the boys.

what he does not say, though, is that seonghwa is wrong. seonghwa may have been the one to reach out to coach yeon, but hongjoong was the one who made the executive decision to accept and trust coach yeon.

he is not going to make the same mistake twice this time, because it is not just about protecting his dreams, his career, or those of his teammates–it is about protecting the people he loves.

hongjoong will not let them fall…not again.

winter, 2018: regular season

jongho twirls his phone in his hand, intermittently turning the screen on and off. he sits in the corner of the locker room, away from the rest of the boys as they wait for coach yeon to return from checking in and filling out their required paperwork. only several competitions later will they realise that their locker room is small, cramped and dim, but to their fresh, bright-eyed excitement at competing in a professional league for the first time, they hardly have time to critique the assigned space.

the phone comes to a stop. making up his mind, jongho taps on the screen and navigates to the keypad. dialling his mother’s number, he brings the phone up to his ear and waits with bated breath as it is left to ring.

“what do you want,” comes her curt response when she finally picks up.

jongho’s words falter, “oh, nothing…i just wanted to tell you that we’re playing our first game today.”

“game? your little team doesn’t even have a coach,” his mother patronises.

shoulders curling in on themselves, jongho hesitantly voices, “i told you last month that we got a coach.”

“i forgot,” she brushes him off, “and it must not be a very important competition then, seeing as it isn’t worth remembering.”

“there’s prize money,” he reveals. maybe if he can bring some of it home for his parents, they will recognise his efforts.

she sceptically probes, “is it national? international?”

“no…regionals.”

“is it ranked at least?”

“it’s just an entry-level competition for rookie teams,” jongho trails off, discouraged and confidence in shambles.

his mother scoffs at his answers, none of which are the ones she wants to hear. “you have no excuse not to win this competition, then. this is child’s play. just look at jonghyuk. he’s two years younger than you, yet already has his eyes on the olympics. if you lose, i don’t want to hear about it–don’t bring shame to our family.”

“okay,” jongho mumbles, but his answer is only heard by the beeping dial of the ended call…and the rest of the boys it seems, if not apparent by the sombre hush that has settled over the room and the worried lips that he sees when he looks up.

yeosang’s mouth parts, the younger’s name on the tip of his tongue, but then coach yeon enters the locker room and calls for their attention. jongho gives them a reassuring smile before setting his phone beside him on the bench and directing his gaze to their coach, grateful for the distraction. it leaves yeosang and the others with no choice but to drop it for now.

coach yeon erases the old scribbles on the room’s whiteboard and replaces it with rough markings of the hockey rink. he drags the magnets into the different zones, each one representative of a player, as he goes over the final lineup and their respective positions based on the opposing team they have been pooled against.

“stay strong on the offensive and maintain a 2-1-2 formation where possible–yeosang, i want you up there with hongjoong and put pressure on the other team. if they gain puck possession, both of you fall back to where wooyoung is and maintain 3-2.”

the three forwards nod and coach yeon touches one of the magnets positioned on the player’s bench. “jongho, you’ll come on for your shift during the second period. whoever you replace will come back in later to sub the other wing. yeosang and wooyoung, you should both be playing again during the third period.”

“yes, coach,” jongho acknowledges.

coach yeon continues on to review their game plan and hongjoong steps up to assist with detailing their different strategic plays. to jongho though, their words sound like he is listening from underwater as his mind involuntary drifts off. it is a small saving grace that his parents do not care for his match, because it means that they will not see that he is not part of the starting lineup.

for seven of the people in the locker room, winning the competition is an aspiration, but for one of them it is an expectation. and for the remaining individual, the competition in itself is an opportunity, but for an entirely different reason.

winter, present: regular season

inevitably, you find out. when discrepancies start to occur between training, pre-game meetings and the actual games, it is only a matter of time before you start to notice them.

it starts off with the uncommon plays that are simply a response to the game situation–ones that are dire and not often brought up prior to them actually occurring. during their fourth regular game of the season, the red devils are behind by two goals. the last period is almost over when they miraculously gain the power advantage after two of the opposing players are sent to the penalty box in quick succession.

before you realise what is happening, hongjoong gives his team a signal and both yunho and mingi on defence and san in the goal all rush forward to attack with the wings. you can only watch with wide eyes as they risk an empty net in the hopes of scoring two much-needed goals to even the playing field.

wooyoung manages to score one with a quick shot, but with the release of the opponents from the penalty box, their advantage is put to an end and they ultimately finish the match with a loss. you do not dwell too much on their sudden change in tactics despite the lack of communication with you, because you understand that every single game requires a different approach. sometimes, there is no time to strategise, only time to act.

but one occurrence turns into two, and two turns into several. and when, during one of their matches the week prior, jongho and wooyoung swap positions on the left and right sides of the rink as soon as the youngest replaces yeosang’s shift, it becomes quite conclusive that they are deliberately withholding information from you.

the boys are not brainless. it is not a coincidence for you and the team to discuss one game plan in the locker room only for it to completely change the moment they step onto the hockey rink.

you silently watch as the boys prepare for a faceoff in their defensive zone. they are currently playing against the incheon bears and the timing of the penalty puts you all on edge; the score is currently tied four to four and only twelve seconds are left on the clock. you had requested a time-out right as the referee made the call in hopes of stopping the momentum of the opposing team and to tell the boys to play defensively for this faceoff.

“play it safe. stall for the last twelve seconds and drag the game into overtime,” you had ordered.

the incheon bears have made a shift change with their player number four coming on for the faceoff, their right wing who has low stamina but terrifyingly accurate shots. he is responsible for most of his team’s goals and several other scoring attempts that san had only just managed to block. you are also almost certain that they will be aggressively body checking your players to make this faceoff count for them. your forwards have to play safely–not just for the sake of the game’s score.

at your defensive suggestion, san had nodded in agreement with you, “forwards need to make passes with sure lanes–nothing that can risk getting intercepted. go for the reverse setup play if you guys can.”

“we don’t need to take this into overtime,” hongjoong had started to argue, “other than number four, the rest of their offence is weak. as long as we break past him, we have an opportunity to score.”

“captain–”

the whistle blows before mingi can give his two cents, the mere thirty seconds for the time-out far too short, and the boys hurry to enter the rink again. hongjoong leans in quickly to say something to them before they disperse into their positions and mingi glances at you, almost guiltily.

you do not have the confidence that your team will listen. san may have seen the advantages in favouring a defensive play, but he is not the one who will decide which direction the puck will go when the referee drops it onto the ice. hongjoong is.

the hand of the referee raises to signal the start of the faceoff and both team’s centre forwards lower their stance. then the puck hits the ice. hongjoong’s nimble reflexes help him to snap his wrist and twist the puck away from the incheon bear’s player, wooyoung already surging ahead with explosive strides towards the other end of the rink. but just as you fear, the opponent’s left wing thunders at hongjoong with horrifying speed, intention solely to bowl him over onto the ice–not to steal the puck.

“fuck, captain!” you yell, heart leaping up into your throat as it cuts off your breath.

hongjoong’s eyes snap upwards and darken, jaws aching from the force with which he grinds his teeth together despite his mouthguard. he suddenly pivots on the edges of his skates and shifts his weight to only just narrowly miss the body check, then flicks the puck away before another player can knock him down.

he does not need to look before passing to where he knows wooyoung will be, years of synergy allowing their plays to connect seamlessly. except incheon bear’s number four has predicted their exact play, having been watching from the benches and noting your forwards’ preference for aggressive attacks.

“shit,” yunho curses under his breath, ice shaving under his skates from the accelerating force of his strides towards the puck. he is not going to make it in time. “mingi!”

seonghwa jolts up to his feet from the player’s bench, chest mid-inhale with apprehension at the captain’s pass. the puck is intercepted within the blink of an eye and with a well-timed punch turn around yunho’s attempt to regain possession, the rival team’s number four makes a shot for the goal.

it is too fast for mingi’s stick to block–arm still stretching out with desperation–and although san drops down to his knees in hopes of barricading the goal with his leg pads, the trajectory of the puck arcs higher than he had predicted.

as the puck soars past san and hits the netting of the goal, the buzzer sounds in tandem with the eruption of cheers around the rink. all around, the incheon bears swarm towards their number four in joyous celebration. mingi leans over to rest his hands on his knees from both exhaustion and defeat, and the other boys stand in similar stances as the outcome of the game registers in their tired minds.

in an attempt to cheer them up despite his own disappointment, seonghwa half-heartedly smiles at his boys as they slowly start to trudge their way off the rink. “we played well, boys. it was unlucky that our pass got intercepted, but we can do better next time.”

“good thing it isn’t the playoffs yet,” yunho tries to joke, “so we’re still in the competition.”

nobody cracks a smile and wooyoung’s face is dark, hand grabbing the walls in support to favour his left foot whilst lifting his skates over the slight ledge of the bench door. noting his slight limp, san quietly murmurs in worry, “did you tape your ankle?”

wooyoung shakes his head. “i ran out. forgot to buy some yesterday.”

“make sure you ice it tonight then, okay?” san gently supports him by the elbow to the benches so they can loosen the laces of their skates and grab their things before heading to the locker room.

you look away to flip through the notebook in your hand instead, trying to calm the shaking of your hands. ice hockey is a contact sport and you cannot protect the players from every single collision, but that last body check that hongjoong had been unprepared for still has acid pooling into your mouth. you scratch the score ‘4-5’ onto a page filled with their scores from this season thus far. a quick calculation tells you that the red devils have just as many losses as they have wins, which in all honesty, is not looking good.

this…conflict needs to be cleared with the team–with hongjoong. you cannot let this concealment of tactics and blatant changing of strategies right in your face continue any longer, because at the rate they are going, they may not even make it into the playoffs. and as you make eye contact with san, who has been staring despondently at the puck that still lies in his goal, you know that you must clear the air for the team, too. the last thing you need is for their own teamwork to fall apart because their differing opinions on your coaching starts to drive a wedge between them.

san stills when you break your gaze and glance away to pivot on your heels in the direction of the changerooms. from the way your mouth thins and neck becomes rigid, he is quite certain you are not happy—and rightfully so, san must admit. he stalls time by slipping off his bulky gloves and freeing his hands up to remove his helmet and mouthguard too.

noting that the other boys have grabbed most of their belongings, san heads off first to meet you, knowing that they will follow him soon after. he walks down the corridor easily balancing on his skates and rounds the corner to their locker room. except the sight that greets him has his feet halting and taking a step back behind the doorway.

your hand is deep in one of their bags. san is unsure whose bag it is, but the brief glimpse of the black canvas bag he caught is enough to tell him that it is one of theirs. although he is not making any accusations, he also cannot think of a reason as to why you would be rummaging through their bags.

“why are you just standing there?”

jongho’s voice startles him and he mumbles, “nothing,” before stepping through the door with the rest of his team. you are sitting on a bench in front of an empty locker now and if he did not know better, san would think that he had imagined the last minute. he glances discreetly at the bag you had been poking through and recognises it as wooyoung’s.

gingerly seating himself in front of his own locker, san waits on edge as mingi also grasps the atmosphere and sits too. gradually, the boys read the room with tactful glances and linger on their feet or on the benches. all except for one.

“what was that?” you cut through the silence with a directed question at hongjoong.

the captain continues to toss his gloves into his unzipped bag at the bottom of his locker before proceeding to unlace his skates, not once turning to look at you.

“what was what?”

you know fully well that he is aware of what you are talking about but you decide to humour him as you elaborate, “that last faceoff. i clearly told you to play defensively, but you went against it to try for a goal. and let me guess, you told the others to ignore what i said.”

“and so what if i did?” hongjoong challenges. yeosang’s wide eyes dart from side to side and yunho watches on uneasily as his captain finally turns to glare at you. “in that moment–as a player on the rink–i saw the opportunity and took it. if there is a chance to attack, then my team takes it. we don’t run away like cowards.”

the successive jabs at your athletic retirement cause a lick of phantom heat to wrap around your shoulder. your jaw grinds as you hold yourself back from biting the bait. “then i’m curious as to what opportunity you saw every time you decided to withhold game tactics from me, or every time you changed the strategy the moment you and your team stepped foot onto the rink.”

“maybe we would respect and listen to your coaching if it actually suited the playing style of our team. heavy defence may have worked for the grey eagles, but i think you need to reevaluate your abilities as a coach because it seems like you are forgetting that we are not them. forcing us to play defensively like your past team is not going to work for shit, coach,” hongjoong mocks.

you scoff to the side, questioning your own ears. it borders on a laugh, because that is his reason? you have been adjusting their playing style not only based on the situation that arises each game, but in general for their own good. earning his respect be damned, you will not stand for this.

you return the same scornful tone, “well then, captain, considering you just lost the fucking match because you were too arrogant to defend for twelve fucking seconds, i think you should also reevaluate yourself. are you acting in the best interest of your team, or are you acting in the way that best strokes your own ego? and let me remind you–if you suffer an injury, your whole team suffers with you.

“if you do not have the decency to at least tell me what you have discussed with the boys so that i can adjust the plays accordingly, then i think the shit results of your games so far speak for themselves. teams have a coach for a reason whether you like it or not…or maybe i should say, whether you trust them or not,” you snap.

running your stressed fingers through your hair, you tear your eyes away from hongjoong’s defiant eyes. the two youngest avoid your gaze, whereas yunho and yeosang simply stare at you with their jaws slack at a loss for words. the fire within you almost quenches when your eyes skim over san, mingi and even seonghwa, who are fiddling with their jerseys with guilt.

the room suddenly feels too small and too stuffy. “change. the bus will be waiting outside,” you mumble, then you leave without a further word.

nobody in the room moves in the wake of the argument, not even hongjoong, who continues to bore holes in the doorway that you have just disappeared through. yunho’s eyes awkwardly dart back and forth between hongjoong and the other boys before they land on the bench you had been sitting on.

the notebook you are always holding is still there, left behind in your haste to leave. he stands up to grab it, turning on his heels to chase after you when the open pages catch his eye. “woah,” yunho breathes out, double-taking and bringing the notebook closer towards him to read the contents. “this is insane.”

you have marked down not only their score for every single game they have played this season, but you have also tracked the statistics of who has scored, assisted, or successfully defended a shot. yunho flips back through the pages as the other boys come to crowd around him. there are logs of their major games from the past five years, diagrams of their faceoff plays and formations, analyses of their strengths in games won and similarly, analyses of their weaknesses in games they have lost.

“oh, fuck,” mingi curses when yunho flips to the more recent pages and they see that you have compiled the same details and information, only more concisely, for every single opponent team the red devils have played against this season. there is no way of seeing this–hours upon hours of hard work–and still questioning your intentions as their coach. “i think we owe coach a huge fuckin’ apology.”

hongjoong immediately furrows his eyebrows with displeasure. “are you taking her side, mingi?”

“captain,” mingi deliberately calls. it is at times like this where being the only logical thinker in the team has its merits. it may be harsh, but mingi must draw the line between their professional and personal life. this dispute must stay strictly within the bounds of their career without blurring the lines over into their romantic involvement with one another, otherwise things could get messy real fast.

mingi stares at the captain as he reasons, “this isn’t about taking sides. from a solely rational point of view, i think it may have been better for us to play safe and defend like coach had suggested.”

from beside him, san nods in agreement. mingi continues, “and i’m not just talking about today–there were a lot of times when coach’s plays might have worked out better than bulldozing ahead with offence. yeah, we’ve won a few games but we’ve also lost just as many. how many of those could we have won if we had trusted coach?”

yunho backs him up whilst gesturing vaguely between the both of them and san, “it’s easier for the three of us to see from defence, but their forwards were already close to intercepting our faceoffs quite a few times that game.”

hongjoong’s immediate thought is to defend himself, because he is their captain and their centre forward; the one who leads them into opportunities to score and win. he knows that every single time he chooses an aggressive play, it is at the risk of weaker defence. the odds have never deterred him, though, because he has always been confident in his abilities–in his team’s abilities.

but if, even now with the palpable experience of losing because of his own decision, it still does not deter him from taking risks in a situation where offence may be his downfall, then is he confident…or overconfident?

it is quiet for a moment. hongjoong swallows the urge to justify against their opinions–against your opinions–instead looking around at his team. he meets jongho’s round eyes and he remembers one of the very reasons why he is so committed to leading the red devils to the gold trophy. why, if he is becoming a hurdle instead to their victory, then he needs to change. “what does everybody else think? seonghwa?”

“we’ve been wary of y/n all this time, but the more games we play and especially after…” the alternate captain vaguely gestures in the air, “...today, we should really work with her instead of relying on ourselves. we’ve seen her notebook, too, and i think that’s more than enough for us to see that the effort and resolve she places in our team is genuine. we need to acknowledge that and apologise.”

“not even coach cho went to these lengths, and most definitely not coach yeon,” yeosang shrugs as he offhandedly comments.

spurred on by everybody else, san carefully voices the thought that has been lingering on his mind, “i think it’s time to tell her the truth. we owe her that much.”

the truth. the wounds that not even coach cho knows of.

hongjoong’s distrust in you may have initially been true to his desire to protect his boys from something like that from happening again. but he is now realising that you may have seen right through him. perhaps at some point in time, it became unwillingness to trust you, blinded by his prideful title as the demon king of the ice rink but at the expense of his team under the guise of wanting to safeguard them.

exhaling shakily, voice thick with regret, hongjoong accepts, “i’ve let you all down, haven’t i?”

“no,” yunho gently rebukes. “letting us down would be refusing to listen to us. we trust you for a reason, hongjoong.”

not just as a captain, but as everything else too.

seonghwa wraps an arm comfortingly around him. with hongjoong’s demonic presence on the ice once he is in the zone, it is easy to forget that he actually has a shorter stature than all of them. “that’s right, we trust you,” seonghwa affirms. “the next step is for us to trust our coach as well. we’re a team, but it isn’t complete without our coach.”

“and this apology isn’t yours alone to bear,” yunho reminds. “like seonghwa said, we’re a team and we all have fault in our behaviour towards y/n. if i’m honest, i had a shitty attitude and gave her a hard time at the start too,” he admits, wincing at the memory.

yunho is not the only one who grimaces as they reflect on their own actions–whether they happened when you were first introduced to the team, during your first training together, or even up until today’s game. but wooyoung, who has been quiet throughout the entire ordeal, still has a niggling doubt: one that is most personal to him in comparison to the rest of the team.

wooyoung reveals his thoughts, “but what about her choice to stop playing? i still can’t think of a good reason that i can respect her for having retired.”

“then we ask her,” mingi proposes.

jongho nods, also curious to know whether there is more to your decision than you have let on. “today, though? we don’t really want to come off as accusatory or anything. it might be good to give her some space today.”

“what’s our schedule looking like tomorrow? training?”

everyone looks at seonghwa, the most likely person to know their schedule off by heart. he does, and he scratches his head as he recalls, “no, recovery day. low-intensity cardio in the morning and…a team meeting with coach in the afternoon.”

“tomorrow it is, then,” hongjoong concludes. there are hums of agreement and the decision appears to appease wooyoung enough for the boys to start dispersing, heading to their lockers to finally start changing out of their gear.

wooyoung tosses his helmet and gloves onto the bench in front of his locker before sitting with a sharp but discreet inhale. he carefully loosens the laces on his skates, easing the left one off his foot slowly. the relief is immediate and his fingertips gingerly touch the throbbing area around his ankle. it is not too swollen, but he will need to ice it when they get back to their apartment and he will definitely need to buy more tape.

he sheds off the rest of his gear and uniform, leaving them on the bench too to air out while he takes a quick shower. as he roughly towels his wet hair afterwards, he drags his kit bag further out to make it easier to toss everything in.

“huh?” wooyoung makes a noise of confusion when he unzips the bag, hand immediately reaching in to grab the item that has caught his eye. it is partially covered by his hoodie but he would be able to recognise the packaging anywhere.

“what’s wrong?” san asks, glancing over.

the younger brandishes the brand new roll of strapping tape he has found in his bag, the frown etched across his face slowly relaxing into amused exasperation as he reasons, “i must not have seen this in my bag all along.”

san is about to snort and make fun of his inattentiveness, but a sudden thought stuns the smile off his face. it was not that wooyoung had managed to miss the spare roll in his bag. it was–

“y/n,” he quietly exhales with realisation.

at wooyoung’s questioning what?, san looks at him with upturned eyebrows. “the tape–coach was the one who put it in your bag, right before we all walked in here.”

“this…she gave it to me?” wooyoung’s face drops, remorse evident in the thickness of his voice. “but why?”

san gently squeezes his shoulder with a smile, simply answering, “because she’s our coach.” he turns to zip up his own kit bag and leaves wooyoung to digest the revelation. the boy is quiet for the rest of the time, teeth gnawing at the inside of his cheek as he stares ahead and absentmindedly follows the rest of his team out of the locker room.

when they exit the ice arena, they do not expect to see you. and yet, there you stand beside their bus waiting stonily with your jacket zipped up and hands in your pockets. you mentally count them off without acknowledging them as they start to store their kit bags under the bus and board. yeosang gets on first, taking a seat near the front of the bus as usual. he watches from the window as you wait for the rest of the boys.

you follow jongho up the stairs, the last to load his kit bag, and tell the driver that you are all good to leave. yeosang sits a little straighter as he tucks his small backpack further under the seat in front of him with his feet, having left the seat beside him empty. but before he can open his mouth with an offer of a seat, you have already sat right behind the driver. yeosang leans back into the cushions of his seat, unfamiliar with the sense of disappointment he feels.

the ride back from the competition venue–much less after a lost game–is always quiet, players both physically and mentally exhausted from the strain. this time, though, it is strikingly silent, but you appreciate it–need it.

you stare out of the window as the trees flicker past like a repetitive motion film. most of their leaves have already fallen off, littering the ground in a blur of tragic glory. and with the beginning of winter, the trees will soon become completely bare, bringing about the period of time when there is nothing but bleak emptiness.

winter, 2019: regular season

‘2019 ice hockey rookie stars tournament: team standings’

hongjoong stares at the printed piece of paper with seonghwa at his side, where the results of all the team’s round-robin games have been taped up onto the walls of the stadium. hongjoong does not even bother reading from the top, eyes going straight down to the bottom of the page instead.

the red devils are dead last, having lost every single one of their matches. even the korean penguins, who had nil wins either, had managed to beat them earlier today, ranking them at the lowest of all teams. it is fucking humiliating and hongjoong hates that the sport that had brought him and his boys all together, that they had immeasurable love for, is now one that fills them with shame and indignity.

nobody else but the two captains of the team have decided to look at the rankings. they had all already known towards the end of the regular season that they would not stand a chance at making it into the playoffs. and yet, hongjoong and seonghwa need to see the results for themselves. it is almost masochistic, forcing themselves to look at the fruitless results of their hard work in their first competition that has so devastatingly crushed their morality.

seonghwa picks at his cuticles fretfully and wonders whether he made the wrong decision to give up his education in pursuit of becoming an athlete. he thinks of his parents, who had encouraged him with supportive smiles and offers of financial support the moment he brought up the idea–was it all in vain?

“are you two done looking?”

both of the boys turn at the question to find a captain with his team waiting to look at the standings.

“yeah, sorry,” hongjoong mumbles before stepping aside to yield his spot. the players swarm forwards and he is pushed further back away from the list like a physical representation of his distance from the playoffs.

somebody from the other team yells, “we made it! we’re in the playoffs!” and they simultaneously break out into cries and cheers as they celebrate together.

hongjoong watches on bitterly, wishing with every cell in his body that that was him and his boys. how is he going to walk back into the locker room as their captain when all of his boys have eyes that are rimmed red and cheeks that are blotchy from despair–when there are captains like that who have successfully led their team to at least a chance at winning the competition.

the feeling of a pinky slowly hooking around his own draws hongjoong out of his pain. “let’s go back,” seonghwa murmurs, tugging him away from the still-celebrating team. together, both of them start to walk back through the hallways to their locker room. 

“aren’t we down here?” seonghwa questions, standing at the t-intersection that hongjoong has absentmindedly walked straight past.

“oh, yeah. sorry,” hongjoong apologises and begins to backtrack. his ears suddenly perk up at the sound of a voice. “wait, doesn’t that sound like coach?”

before seonghwa can respond, hongjoong has turned around yet again towards the voice in search of their coach. seonghwa hurries to catch up and that is when he hears it too.

“have you transferred the money?”

“yes, i wired you the remaining amount the moment we won,” a deeper, unrecognisable voice reassures.

hongjoong’s footsteps falter, brows knitting together and head cocking to one side. he gestures for seonghwa to slow down, pressing a finger on his other hand to his lips. both of them creep forward silently.

the unfamiliar voice probes, “your team–you’re sure they don’t suspect anything?”

hongjoong and seonghwa do not need to see him to confirm their suspicions when they hear the unmistakable laughter of coach yeon. through the gravelly sound, he mocks, “they have no fucking clue even though they’ve lost every single one of their games. they’re dumber than fucking sheep. their captain tells me everything about their plays and strategies and they never question it when i change things around.”

seonghwa clutches the back of hongjoong’s jersey with a death grip, knowing that without it, his captain will punch coach yeon’s face into a bloody mess. but as much as their coach deserves it, it is not worth the disciplinary action that will inevitably follow, likely suspension, because–

“plus, even if they do somehow find out, what can they do about it? bullshit, that’s what. they have no evidence and they’re not going to risk blowing this up and ruining their own careers instead,” coach yeon boasts smugly. “losing like that as a rookie group in their first year out is completely normal. no one will believe them, and no coach is going to want their team after that because of their ‘shitty sportsmanship’ or out of fear of being accused in the same way if they lose again.”

at coach yeon’s words, seonghwa scrambles to put them into context with his dread-riddled mind. the echoing pounding in his ears tells him that he has just heard something that was never meant to be known. he does not even notice that the voices start to grow distant as the two men begin to walk off, but hongjoong does.

the trembling grip that is still on the back of his jersey grounds hongjoong enough not to throw everything away and sprint up to coach yeon with vile words and heated fists, but he also cannot do nothing. hongjoong peers around the corner before seonghwa can counteract his movement, desperate to identify who exactly coach yeon is talking to. except the revelation has him reeling, hands white from how hard his fingers dig into his palm–a stark contrast to the deep scarlet of flames that leap forth from his murderous eyes.

because the person who is walking beside coach yeon is the coach of the korean penguins. hongjoong and his boys have not been losing because of their skills they believed to be fucking shit–coach yeon has been fucking ensuring they lose.

for money.

winter, present: regular season

you stand on the balcony of your apartment. the sliding glass doors are shut behind you to keep the heat trapped inside, but for now you welcome the refreshing cold of the winter chill as you simply observe.

below on the streets, the miniature specks of people and cars mill around as if you are watching a game simulation. it is strangely humbling to think that each and every one of the people you see are living their own lives, completely distinct to yours with different yet very real problems of their own, but in the grand scheme of the cosmos, you are all insignificant.

you wonder what concern the people holding their coffee are plagued with right now; what problem the people crossing the street are facing. you wonder, if you were to tell them of your worries and they were to tell you of theirs, would you curse or thank the heavens?

the phone in your hand buzzes. you look to see if it is from coach cho and manage a small smile of relief when the notification is indeed from him.

apologies y/n, i was busy earlier. i can call now if you still need me?

you send an affirmative reply, then slide to answer the call that comes through. “hi coach, sorry to bother you.”

“no, you’re alright. is everything okay?”

you hesitate before revealing, “...i messed things up with the boys.”

“the team?” his voice goes gentle, fatherly nature extending to you too. “what happened?”

“hongjoong and i had an argument today after the game because he keeps changing the team’s plays without letting me know, or even after we’ve agreed on something else. it was only meant to be a talk, but then things escalated and we ended up fighting. i just–i don’t know what you saw in me, coach, because i don’t think i’m fit for the boys,” you ramble. “they’re not listening to me, they probably don’t even like me, and we’re going terribly with the season.”

you take a breath as you timidly admit, “i don’t think we’re going to make it into the playoffs and it’s going to be my fault.”

“hey,” coach cho grounds you, “making the playoffs would be great, yes, but the reality is that most teams don’t. and you’re still very young yourself–this is your, what…fifth year of coaching?”

throat too sticky to formulate a response, you simply hum.

“when i first started coaching, i was older than you and it was still a steep learning curve during my first ten years. i believed that coaches deserved the utmost respect and that my opinion was final. they’re my players, so of course i should be the one laying down the laws,” he chuckles. “but growing up was realising that whilst the respect is still there, it needs to be mutual. coaching a team is not a hierarchy of ‘i command, you listen’, but a show of leadership with the captain at the front of the team–not on top of them.”

his words strike a chord within you. coaching the boys was frustrating because they were not listening to you. but it should never have been a case of who listens to who–it should always have been a reciprocated relationship of everyone listening to one other.

as if he can physically feel the guilt that is starting to settle in the pit of your stomach, coach cho draws your attention to something else. “remember what i told you when we met the team for the first time? why i chose you specifically?”

“because of our similar playing styles?” you recall.

“exactly,” he confirms, “you know best the strategies and plays that work, and what their strengths and weaknesses are, because they were also your own. you need to be a coach to their playing style, not the other way around–they shouldn’t be a player to your coaching style.”

you cannot help but worry, “what if they get injured?”

“y/n, this is where your similarities can either be your biggest flaw or your greatest asset as a coach. no matter how safely they play, there will always be a risk of injury. that is just how the sport works and you know that the best. you can teach them to assess the risk and pull back if they really need to, but ultimately, there is no way of eliminating the risk completely.” coach cho pauses, then asks, “if you could meet your younger self, would you make yourself change your playing style?”

would you? as you imagine what you would tell your past self if you had the chance to, you find that you do not have an answer. perhaps for the sake of a prolonged career, you would. but then would it be your passion and skills that are playing the game, or your fears and worries?

if you cannot come to a decision even for yourself, then it is completely unfair for you to restrain the boys within the cages of what you view as safety for their own good. harnessing the defensive skills may have been functional for the grey eagles, but like hongjoong said, you are coaching the red devils now and it is not working for them. you must come to terms that you cannot protect the boys at every opportunity–consciously or unconsciously–you need to be a coach to them.

coach cho, aware that you have come to a conclusion, asks you one final question, “have you told the boys why you retired?”

“no, not yet,” you shake your head. you already have an idea of what he is going to say to you next.

“i think it’s time for you to tell them,” he advises. “remember, y/n, sometimes you need to be vulnerable with them first before you can make things right.”

after coach cho ends the call, you do not make a move to go back inside the apartment. you stay standing on your balcony, arms folded as you lean against the handrail listening to the faint rumble of traffic and hustle of busy activity. life goes on, and so will yours; you just have to make it count.

the trees on the streets may be stripped bare and lonely throughout winter, but eventually you learn to appreciate its nothingness. it is a necessity in order to start afresh.

mingi stares at the blinking cursor that sits in the open search bar. it has been empty for the last twenty minutes since he started up his laptop, wondering whether it would be an invasion of privacy for him to look you up on the internet.

he makes up his mind. he knows that he was the one to tell wooyoung only mere hours ago that they would ask you about your decision to retire tomorrow at the meeting, but mingi supposes it would not hurt to simply see what sort of athlete you were like before.

typing your full name into the search engine, mingi hits ‘enter’ and waits for the results to appear. he combs through the first several links quickly. they all have the same information; ice hockey databases and websites that detail your age, nationality, physical stats and position, but the sections that usually list your team and agency are now blank.

mingi is surprised to learn you were also a centre forward. he scrolls down to your game logs and match statistics that span from 2014 to 2019. you have won an impressive number of championships, most notably the under-18 and under-21 women’s ice hockey league. they are both international competitions and mingi is not sure how your reputation has flown under all of their radars.

frowning, he goes back to the search engine and clicks on the next page in an attempt to find more information. it is not until he clicks yet again to the next page that he finds a low-reputed news article from almost eight years ago where you are the main subject.

‘y/n l/n, youngest player of ‘black cats’, wins ice hockey championship at the age of sixteen’ the headline reads. there is not much to the article, but it outlines your admirable achievement at your young age as a rising prodigy in the ice hockey scene. mingi agrees, since he knows that you also go on to win another international competition a few years after that. just as he is about to close the tab, there is a recommended link that catches his eye.

he hovers his cursor over it. the hyperlinked headline does not explicitly say your name, but the phrasing really only alludes to one athlete considering it is a recommended link on your article. mingi does not know whether he wants to click on it, though, because he is afraid of confirming it is you.

and if it is…then the others will also need to see this too.

“hongjoong, guys, come look at this,” mingi calls out, balancing his laptop on his forearm as he walks out into the open living room. the others look up from where they are sitting or emerge from out of their rooms at his summon.

“what’s this?” hongjoong reaches out to receive the laptop and places it on the table. his eyes skim the screen, trying to make sense of what mingi is showing them.

mingi points to the hyperlink he had been mulling over. “i think we need to look at this.”

solemnity washes over the boys as their curious gazes dull and darken, realisation of what exactly they are reading dawning upon them. all at once, their hearts clench in solidarity. hongjoong clicks on the link. the only sound that permeates the silence is the rhythmic tick of the clock on the wall. nobody talks. nobody moves.

ice hockey star announces retirement following shoulder injury june 18, 2019 star player y/n l/n, centre forward of the ‘black cats’, has announced her retirement from professional ice hockey today. her decision follows lingering issues after suffering from a rotator cuff tear during the grand finals of this year’s under-21 women’s ice hockey league. l/n has been under the ice hockey spotlight ever since her win in the under-18’s league as the youngest player on her team. she is well-known for her offensive threat to the opponents, bold playing style and unparalleled skill breaking through the lines of defence.  during the grand finals in april, l/n was body checked from the side by ‘polar bears’’ kim hyejin. although full-body checking is illegal in women’s hockey, it is not uncommon during the heat of competitions. l/n suffered a severe right rotator cuff tear and is reported to have received open surgery last month. l/n did not provide further details about her recovery, however stated that she plans to focus on her physical rehabilitation in the meantime.

the glare of the screen stares back at the boys as they finally understand exactly why you had retired and why you had come back as a coach–you were unable to fully step away from the sport you so loved with your entire life.

“coach wasn’t telling us to play defensively at all the crucial times just for the sake of the game strategy…” seonghwa grasps.

“...but because she didn’t want the same thing to happen to us,” hongjoong finishes. one of your heated remarks during your argument with him suddenly resounds in his mind: and let me remind you–if you suffer an injury, your whole team suffers with you. you had been reliving your own demons every single time hongjoong and his boys were playing aggressively on the ice. “fuck,” he mutters.

mingi leans down a little. “wait, see if there are any other articles about this.”

fingers dancing across the keyboard, hongjoong opens up a new tab. another quick search of your name with the keywords ‘injury’ and ‘retirement’ yields no further articles. mingi is certain you would have had more media coverage considering you had suffered an injury at the rising peak of your prodigious career, so he finds it strange that there is close to no information about this.

“it almost looks as if somebody had the articles purged from the internet,” mingi observes.

jongho nods with furrowed brows, “maybe y/n? but why would she go to the length to remove them?”

“i mean, wooyoung didn’t exactly go around flaunting off his injury to the media. maybe she didn’t want the attention anymore,” yeosang guesses.

yunho nudges wooyoung playfully as he comments, “no offence to you, but none of us are exactly famous enough for the media to take interest in our injuries.”

“i think the real question is why coach didn’t tell us that her injury was the reason why she stopped playing,” seonghwa wonders, “it was never really a choice like she made it out to be.”

none of them know the answer. hongjoong slowly closes the laptop, exhaling deeply, “we’ve got a lot of things to clear up tomorrow…and a lot of apologising. i’m going to sleep early. you all should too.”

with that, he gets out of his seat and disappears into his bedroom. hongjoong’s mind is heavy and crowded and he knows he is going to be awake for a while.

nobody sleeps well that night. especially wooyoung.

spring, 2023: playoffs

“what do you mean i can’t compete in the playoffs?”

“you have a fractured ankle, wooyoung. the playoffs are honestly the least of your concerns and if you keep straining yourself like this, it won’t just be the playoffs that you can’t compete in–it’ll be the rest of your life,” coach cho admonishes.

“but this is our first proper championship, coach,” wooyoung begs, “you have to let me play.”

coach cho hates that he has to say no and if he could swap ankles with his player, he would do so in a heartbeat. “this isn’t a choice. you physically cannot play. what are you going to do out there on the ice? crawl?”

“fuck, coach, you don’t understand. it was so hard for us to get to this point. this means everything to me, fuck, please,” wooyoung pleads between heaving breaths.

“i’m sorry, wooyoung,” coach cho apologises, leaving no further room for argument as the other boys divert their gazes to the floor.

hongjoong gently squeezes wooyoung’s shoulder. “the doctor said that your cast can come off in about eight weeks and if it’s looking good, you can gradually join in on any light training when it’s off-season.”

wooyoung does not care because in eight week’s time the playoffs will already be over. he knows he is being unreasonable and that there is no chance he will be able to set foot in an ice rink within the next two months. but his heart and mind are operating separately and the only thing his heart can see is the opportunity of playing in the championships slipping right out of his grasp.

he is already angry at himself for getting injured in the first place but it is not enough to quell wooyoung’s raging inferno. so he does the only thing he can think of in the moment–he spits out his anger with a venomous, “i hate you all.”

it hurts the boys more to see wooyoung hurting and coach cho speaks up on their behalf, “i would rather you hate us now than for you to hate yourself in the future because you traded decades of your career for this one playoff.”

wooyoung jerks his head away defiantly, but they know he is only trying to hide his tears. unable to watch any longer, san moves in closer and pulls the younger into his arms.

“fuck off, san. i don’t need you.”

san swallows the hurt in his chest because he knows there is no truth behind wooyoung’s words. “i know you don’t,” he offers, “but i need you. so just let me stay.”

wooyoung’s body sags as all of the fight slips out of him in the form of shuddering sobs. san embraces him tightly, as if he has picked up all the pieces of the other and only a hug can make him whole again.

“i’m sorry,” wooyoung chokes out.

san shakes his head with reassuring hushes, “don’t be. you focus on recovering and we’ll take it from here.”

like that, wooyoung’s anger is quenched and the team goes on to compete in the playoffs without him. but in the absence of anger comes other emotions, jealousy and insecurity the ugliest of them all. wooyoung despises the bitter taste in his mouth as he sits on the player’s bench outside of the rink each game, only able to helplessly watch his team advance further in the playoffs without him.

and as much as wooyoung wants them to win, he also does not want them to win, because if they can win the championships without him playing as their left wing, then do they really need him at all? he never gets to find out the answer though. they lose in the quarter finals.

wooyoung does not tell anybody about the ill relief he feels…and he vows to take that secret with him to the grave.

winter, present: regular season

the moment you walk into kq’s meeting room, a rehearsed apology for the team on the tip of your tongue, you realise that something is off. not necessarily wrong, per se; just off.

all the boys are sitting around the table as usual, though the overhead projector that is routinely already set up with video footage of their recent games has been put on standby mode. but the thing that unconsciously makes your hackles rise is the expression they all nurse on their faces, strangely familiar yet foreign at the same time. it is familiar in the sense that people have looked at you this way in the past, but it is foreign in the sense that it has never come from the boys before.

“hi, coach,” hongjoong clears his throat awkwardly, opting to look at the wall behind you instead of your eyes as if even he knows this is the first time he has ever addressed you as such. “we had a…talk last night and thought we should probably clear up a few things before we discuss the actual games.”

although you share the same sentiment as they do, hongjoong’s words put you on guard. gingerly, you lower yourself into an empty seat across from him. “i also have a couple of things to say, but you guys start,” you cue.

hongjoong glances at seonghwa beside him, who in turn gives him a miniscule shrug. neither of them know how to bring it up with you as they are afraid of saying the wrong thing. thankfully, mingi steps in, not one to beat around the bush.

“why didn’t you tell us about your injury?” he asks directly.

with mingi’s question, you are suddenly able to place their expression. the boys look at you warily as if you are a wounded animal they are afraid will run away. you loathed the expression years ago when it was from your coach, your teammates and your family–the constant treading on eggshells around you with pitying eyes–and you still loathe it just as much as you do now.

your prickles emerge and your instinctive reaction is to deny it. you have kept your injury a secret up until now for a reason and the unexpected confrontation has all of your sirens blaring to keep it a secret. but then you remember coach cho’s advice–you remember the apology you had mulled over all night–and you force your prickles to retract.

you take a breath. coach cho would not have told them about your injury, so there is only one way the boys could have found out about it. “you read the articles, didn’t you?”

mingi at least has the decency to look sheepish as he admits, “one…but there weren’t any others.”

“i thought as much,” you mumble to yourself, smiling tightly. you choose not to think about how they came across the article. “i wanted them all removed and my agency managed to pull enough connections to sweep the articles under the rug, but i should have known that in this day and age it would be impossible to get rid of any media completely.”

the question remains as to why you have chosen to keep this hidden and also–

“why did you want them removed, though?” hongjoong furrows his brows.

you have faced countless demons in the last six years. the injury itself, the abrupt end to your golden days, and the forced reconciliation with the fact that you will never be able to play again. and yet, the demon that continues to haunt you to this day is the media spotlight that chases after you as if you are a circus animal.

you are unable to look at any of them in the eye as you finally bare yourself open to the boys. “the articles felt belittling and shameful–they still do. they made me feel less as an athlete then and they make me feel less as a coach now. i worked my heart and soul to get to where i was with the skills that i had, but you don’t understand just how crippling it is for all of that to be overshadowed by an injury. it was no longer a celebration of my achievements, simply because nobody cared anymore. it just became a fucking broken record of, ‘how does it feel to have fallen at the peak of your career?’

“then when i became a coach, it didn’t matter how well my team performed or how hard they worked to win the championships. the question became, ‘how does it feel to coach after being forced to retire because of your injury?’ no matter how hard i tried, i just could not escape the hellhole of my injury.”

guilt settles in the pit of mingi’s stomach as it also does for the others. they may not have written the article, but by consuming it and searching for more, they had unknowingly joined the faceless masses of those who had hurt you.

you dig your thumbs into the flesh of your thighs to stop your voice from shaking as you continue, “the media will not care for the achievements that myself or my players accomplish when there is something even better–a sob story. but i do not need that kind of pity. not from athletes, not from other coaches, and most definitely not from strangers silently pitying my life from behind their newspaper or screen when i did not ask for any of it. i made people forget and i kept this all hidden because my career, be it as a coach or a former athlete, does not deserve to be reduced to that kind of shit.”

the raw honesty behind your words strikes the boys silent. what they thought they had started to understand about you, they are now realising was barely the tip of the iceberg. seonghwa wonders for just how long you have left this wound bleeding and untreated. he calls out for you sadly, “coach, you should’ve told us.”

when you look up, you are surprised to find wetness brimming his eyes. you feel the hot rush of emotions build up behind your own eyes but from anger, because why is he upset? what reason does he have to cry when you are the one who has suffered all this time?

your voice is biting when you respond, “and have you look down on me like everybody else? i just said, i do not need your pity–”

“it’s not pity,” a voice interrupts firmly. of all people, you least expected it to come from wooyoung. his tone stays unyielding as he holds your gaze. “we’re athletes too, y/n.”

the way he includes you in the collective–as an athlete–has your glare softening immediately, replaced by the dangerous quivering of your bottom lip while he elaborates, albeit voice gentler now, “we are hurting for you–with you. it is not pity; it is standing by your side in hopes that we can help you up if you ever fall again.”

because it is okay to fall, and you will fall; wooyoung knows that the best.

you tilt your head upwards as you desperately blink back the tears that suddenly threaten to spill. the swell of emotions that had churned in your chest had not been anger but fatigue, you realise. wooyoung’s words give you sudden clarity that you are tired–of suffering alone and in silence. you want help.

“i’m tired of hurting,” you confess quietly.

“then let us share the hurt with you.”

the dam breaks and your tears fall freely down your cheeks. it starts off with a nod so miniscule that the boys think they have imagined it, but then slowly and surely, your head moves up and down with more conviction. “okay,” you whisper.

you had always thought that you had come to terms with your injury and the end of your career, but perhaps you are still mourning your loss…and perhaps that is okay. like looking into a time-warped mirror, wooyoung sees the fight slip out of your body with a sob as you apologise, “i’m sorry.”

san wants to cross the room and wrap his arms around you if it can take away even just a fraction of your hurt. but he knows that he cannot cross the boundaries of professionalism despite the intimate nature of the conversation right now, especially when you and the team are only just starting to patch things up. so instead, he opts to rub his thumb over the knuckles of wooyoung’s hand from under the table, which has slipped into his, hoping that one day he will be able to do the same for you.

“we understand,” hongjoong answers on their behalf, “you were doing what you needed to do in order to protect yourself.”

and if you do not realise that he says those words for himself and his team to hear too, then you will by the end of the conversation as you walk away with a newfound understanding of them.

“no, not just for that,” you shake your head, roughly swiping at your tears with the back of your hand. “it ended up negatively influencing the way i coached you guys, even if it was subconscious. i let my own trauma dictate how i wanted you to play: defensively all the time whether it was needed or not. hongjoong, you were right about me not coaching your team as your team.”

you try your damned hardest to keep your voice steady so that you can look at them properly to apologise, “i’m sorry i made it so hard to trust me as your coach.”

“okay, let me stop you right there,” yunho smiles gently, sliding a tissue box in your direction. “we were pricks too, so half the apology is ours.”

“don’t call her a prick,” seonghwa whispers. his horrified expression relaxes when you break out into a wet chuckle.

hongjoong is glad that you are able to find something to laugh about even with your cheeks still damp and blotchy, and he finds his mouth curling into a bittersweet smile. you have been honest and vulnerable with them and now it is their turn.

“we have something to tell you about our past coach,” he starts, drawing your gaze to him. “not coach cho–our very first coach. we’re not trying to justify that what we did as a result was okay, but…”

“but hopefully i can understand,” you finish when hongjoong hesitates. he nods and you mirror his action with a reassuring smile to encourage him to talk.

but irregardless of what they tell you, you already know that you want to understand them, because understanding is the first step to forgiving, and you want that too.

so with intermittent comments from the other boys, hongjoong reveals to you the hidden wounds they have been nursing. and as they tell you about coach yeon, how their trust in him had been misplaced, how he had betrayed it for money at the expense of their championship, and how they had then let that become mistrust in you and your reason for retiring, wooyoung finds himself quiet so that he can steal glances at you.

he can see it now. the untameable beast within you of passion for ice hockey that has been forcibly chained down to the ground with the weight of the earth. the devastating torment that must incessantly surge through you in the most debilitating waves, tenfold any anguish he felt when he was unable to compete in the playoffs. the blemished canvas of dark and ghastly emotions that you do not let see the light of day, yet continue to coexist in hidden silence.

it is there and then that wooyoung realises you and him may be more similar than he thought–that you may actually understand him better than any of his seven boys.

you stop the drill.

yeosang gracefully turns in an arc whilst keeping the puck close to his stick as hongjoong and seonghwa dig their skates into the ice to brake before their momentum takes out the younger.

“let’s have jongho try using the perimeter of the rink instead of passing to yeosang this time. start the faceoff again,” you instruct.

the chorus of responses that you receive are zealous, even slightly teasing as the boys lower their voices with a, “yes, coach!” and give you small salutes with their gloved hands. you cannot help but snort and shake your head, waving at them to retake their positions.

practice is short today, since your team has a game tomorrow. the first half an hour consisted of running through offensive formations for power plays and you are now focusing on defensive penalty kills. your two captains and wooyoung are playing as the mock opponents, preparing your remaining wings and defenseman for a situation where they are down a player.

hongjoong seems to mull over a thought as he looks at the formation of his boys. “you mentioned the team we’re playing against has a tendency to position their forwards higher up, didn’t you?” he asks and  when you nod, he suggests, “what do you think about trying the diamond formation instead? might help close some of their shooting lanes.”

with the captain’s input, you reposition yeosang further up to form the tip of the diamond, and yunho too to cover the right point whilst jongho covers the left. mingi moves in a little closer to the goal to cover the bottom of the diamond and you make sure to point out the importance of his position.

“if the opportunity arises, we can transition into a counterattack instead with 3-1. but we’ll need to make sure we still cover the goal in case they turn it back over again–mingi, this will probably be you. support whoever has the puck from behind, but make sure you don’t go too far forward.”

mingi answers with an affirmative and yeosang passes the puck to hongjoong for him to commence the penalty kill. at your whistle, the rink explodes into action. wooyoung and seonghwa immediately split down the perimeters to open up shooting lanes for their captain, who passes the puck off to wooyoung the moment he has cleared half the rink. with a brief adjustment of the puck’s angle, he attempts a cross-ice pass to where seonghwa is free on the other side.

with astonishing speed, jongho intercepts the puck and yells, “3-1!” he continues to barrel forward with the momentum of his explosive acceleration towards the goal as yeosang anticipates a pass and yunho joins the counterattack rush to his right. the three of your players charge forwards with adrenaline as mingi covers them from behind. jongho chips the puck over hongjoong’s stick, which is immediately taken up by yeosang. without a goaltender, he finishes it off with an easy shot into the net.

the tempo and execution of the rush surprises not just you, but the boys themselves too, who are tapping their sticks together with elated excitement at the success of the play. it may only be a simulated practice drill, but you still share in the same pride and contentment that hongjoong’s face glows at you with.

he cocks his head to the side with a paired smile and you return the same nonverbal acknowledgement. corners of your lips still lifted up, you gather the boys, “let’s have a drink break.”

as the boys make their way over to the benches, removing their gloves and helmets, you eye the water bottles and make sure you have enough–five in the cooler and three on the bench beside it. san bounds up to you after grabbing one from the cooler, bragging, “coach! did you see the way jongho intercepted that puck?”

from beside him, wooyoung reenacts the moment with wild flails of his limbs and airy whooshes from his mouth, jongho watching with bashful giggles. you indulge in their animated recount and listen intently. “he was amazingly fast,” you agree.

yeosang passes an opened bottle to wooyoung before untwisting the lid to his own, commenting, “the ankle weights on top of all the training must be working.”

the boys are not currently wearing any, but you had slowly implemented the use of vests, ankle or wrist weights during specific drills. now that they have taken them off and are playing without the burden of the additional mass, you are all starting to see the gains of their hard work.

you smirk with satisfaction, “of course. if my players are going to bulldoze across the ice, may as well make them fast enough to avoid all the opponents.”

“don’t encourage her,” wooyoung elbows yeosang scandalously. “she’s going to make us wear heavier weights next practice.”

“you don’t get to complain if you don’t even wear the weights,” you quip.

he knows his injury means that he cannot wear the weights in case it places stress on his ankle, so he curses at you with no real heat just for the sake of cursing, “fuck you.”

you wink, “love you too.”

wooyoung shuts his mouth and scrunches the bridge of his nose with faux displeasure, and jongho laughs at his inability to faze you. you glance down and open your notebook to mention, “on that note, though, how do we feel about going up a few hundred grams next week?”

“i’m fine with that,” yeosang says at the same time jongho confirms, “sounds good.” most of the other boys also nod that they are fine with increasing their weights, save for seonghwa who notifies you that he is still adjusting so he will keep his as it is for now.

you jot down ticks and crosses next to their names corresponding to their answers whilst suggesting, “yunho and mingi, you can both probably try half a kilogram since your body masses are higher.”

said boys peer over your shoulder to see what their new weights would be, then yunho makes a noise of intriguement. “coach, did you write these?”

you look to where his finger is pointing to–sticky notes upon sticky notes of unorganised observations and reminders to yourself. starting to feel self-conscious, you deny, “...no,” only for yunho to swipe the notebook from out of your grasp. “hey!”

he holds it up and open above him, voice gleeful as he reads one out, “‘jongho, wooyoung and yeosang prefer water at room temperature when training–take bottles out of cooler!’”

“aw, coach,” wooyoung coos, “did you deliberately leave three bottles in room temperature for us on the bench?”

feeling your ears heat up from being exposed, you swipe at the notebook. your skates give you added height, but so do yunho’s skates, so your attempts to jump for it are futile.

“‘boys want to eat abura soba after their win’,” he continues to read, pausing to let out a dramatic gasp, “are you going to treat us, coach?” his question is met with enthusiasm.

when another wild swipe sends a sharp sting down your shoulder from the movement, reminding you of the pain that had flared up a few days ago, you decide to change tactics. you grab the back and front of his jersey with your hands, completely ready to commit to scaling him like a literal tree. but then a different set of hands easily takes the notebook out of yunho’s and of course it would be mingi. you insult, “give it back, you tall buffoon!”

mingi is hardly fazed as you switch targets to him, your fingertips nowhere near reaching the notebook as he snickers and reads, “‘trial jongho as starting forward–wait.” he lowers his hands with sobriety and you are finally able to snatch the notebook back, shutting it before they can read any more of your sticky notes. it is not like there is anything they cannot know, but it is sort of embarrassing for them to see how much attention you pay to them.

“you want jongho on the starting lineup?” mingi confirms that he has not read it wrong, eyes as wide as all the other boys as they look at you.

jongho is almost certain that you must have meant somebody else, or something else, because there is no way that he would be given the opportunity to start for the team–not when they have yeosang and wooyoung as their wings, and the choice of hongjoong or seonghwa as their centres. he is used to being the player who momentarily relieves others of their shift on the ice, or as his parents so like to remind him, option b.

“why do you all look so surprised?” you frown. beckoning at jongho with your chin, you ask, “you’ve been practising hard to make your right hand just as good as your left hand, haven’t you? so let’s take advantage of your versatility and unpredictability on ice and throw the opponents off. what do you think?”

jongho’s mouth opens and shuts, struggling to formulate an answer through his wide beam other than, “i–of course, if you’d let me–if everyone else is happy.”

the pleased smile on hongjoong’s face is enough to make his cheeks sore and he wraps his arm around the youngest’s shoulders. he praises, “look at you, our wild card and our hidden ace,” as seonghwa declares, “i know he’ll do us so proud.”

both yeosang and wooyoung simultaneously offer their positions in the starting lineup and the rest of the boys watch on with fond expressions. they are grateful that you have recognised the talents and hard work of their youngest. although you are not aware, this opportunity holds significance not just in regards to his career.

you conclude, “we’ve been on a good streak with our games. let’s ride the momentum and show the other teams what jongho is capable of–what we’re all capable of.”

“yes, coach!” they shout, the loud echo of their voices reverberating and filling the rink with buzzing energy for the remainder of the training session.

spirits still high by the time you call it a wrap, you let them change as you grab your own belongings. there is a team meeting in the afternoon so you and the boys will be going back to kq to eat at the cafeteria and use the booked room. you pause when you see wooyoung loitering by your bag. he still has not changed out of his practice clothes.

“i’m not letting you on the bus if you’re planning on staying in those clothes,” you joke.

“i’m going to change!” he scowls indignantly, then avoids eye contact as he thrusts something out in your direction. he mumbles, “had some spares. didn’t want them. just dumping them with you so you can stash them or use them or whatever, i don’t care.”

you grab the small bag, brows creased with confusion, but wooyoung dashes away to change before you can ask what it is. you peer inside and to your pleasant surprise, there are two packs of pain relief patches. your shoulder protests at the lack of attention you have given it in the last few days. the pain is chronic and never really goes away, but it has been bothering you more than usual recently, so it is all in good timing that you now have some patches.

you make a mental note to stick one on when you get to the company and grab your bag after ensuring your notebook is stored inside. as you head towards the change rooms to wait for the boys, you spot a piece of paper on the floor. it looks like rubbish that you must have missed on your way in earlier so you pick it up to throw away. but when your fingertips touch the familiar sheen of the wax-like paper, you realise wooyoung must have dropped it.

it is confirmed when you unfold it to read the text and see that it is from yesterday evening, at the pharmacy that is just across the street from the company; in your hands you hold wooyoung’s receipt for two packs of pain relief patches.

spring marks the start of the playoffs. in synchronisation with the burst of life that blooms with the season, your boys, too, flourish in the league.

the unpredictability of your team’s strategies that entail a mix of both yours and hongjoong’s prowess helps to secure wins over the remainder of the regular season. despite the unsteady start to the season, it allows your team to scrape into the round of sixteen near the bottom of the standings.

the red devils are seeded against the team that is third in the rankings, and then against the sixth-standing team in the quarterfinals. in upsets that knock out two of the most anticipated teams in the league, your boys advance into the semifinals, their reputation as the demons of the ice rink that had laid low now rapidly spreading.

where none of the other competitors had paid you and your players any mind before, barely even noticing your presence, the opponents now glance and watch your team walk past with an air of confidence through the arena. their tense jaws and hard gazes size up your athletes–formidable rivals who have suddenly barrelled up the ranks from out of nowhere and now pose perhaps the biggest threat as a team that has somehow slipped under their radars.

you know; your team may be small in numbers. but with yunho and mingi flanking the sides of the boys, and even with hongjoong’s charismatic aura alone leading the front, which extends around him like a dark cloud of terror and envelops the rest of the group too, your team is a pack of predators at the tip of the apex.

other players part to make a path for your boys, whose heads are held high and eyes are set only on their captain and you, their coach, as you all walk to your assigned changeroom. the nerves have long dissipated because the ice rink is your territory and the other teams are your prey.

the moment you shut the door behind the last of them into the room though, the icy stare in wooyoung’s eyes melt and he exclaims, “holy shit, did you see the way everybody was looking at us? we must have looked so fucking hot, i wish i could ask for my own signature.”

from their glowing faces alone, you can tell that they are all basking in the feeling of finally being recognised and reckoned with. yunho bats his eyelids and pinches his voice higher into a falsetto, “oh wooyoung! you’re so handsome and cool, could i please have your signature?”

mingi imitates him and pounces on wooyoung, begging for a photo together as he clings onto his elbow. it sets off the rest of the boys to crowd around like mock fans with faux exhilaration. you snort at their antics, leaving wooyoung to sign imaginary sheets of paper with his imaginary pen in favour of ensuring all of their backup equipment and gear is correctly located outside or in the storage area.

you allow the boys adequate time to change into their full gear for their warm-up prior to the actual semifinal game before you walk back into the locker room. your ears perk up when you catch the end of san’s question, “that’s good for us, isn’t it?”

“what is?” you ask out of curiosity, flipping open the provided cooler and adding several sports drinks into the ice.

“i overheard someone on the white tigers team say that their head coach happened to fall sick, so they have their assistant coach today,” jongho mentions.

the surge of brazen smiles and reassured glints in their eyes at the reveal of information makes you falter to a degree. you lightly chastise, “don’t let that get to your heads and start being cocky–play as you usually do and do not underestimate them just because their head coach is off.”

you pull your notebook out of your bag, the familiar cover and weight of the book providing you with a sense of security as you remind the boys, “the white tigers have a very similar playing style as us. we may have worked hard on our defensive strategies, but with similar strengths and weaknesses overall, it won’t hurt for us to still be cautious.”

“yes, coach,” they chorus.

hongjoong nods, “let’s go warm up, then finalise our starting lineup for the game.”

your team’s allocated time on the rink passes by quickly and it is followed by the last adjustments to the discussed strategies and game plan, thorough checks of their gear, and the remaining boys who are still wearing their practice jerseys change out of the blue into their red game uniform. in full gear, there your boys stand, presence intimidating and demoniac. the boys do not live up to their team name; their team name lives up to them.

they stride through the hallway for their semifinal game against the white tigers. right at the end before it leads to the ice rink, yunho yells, “pep talk, captain!”

hongjoong groans, rolling his eyes, but places the blade of his stick onto the rubber flooring nonetheless. the rest of the boys huddle around, their sticks meeting in the centre of the circle and standing close together so that their helmets and shoulders knock against one another. you are also swept into the circle with yeosang and san by your sides.

“boys…and girl,” hongjoong snickers to himself before recollecting his very inspirational train of thought, “we’ve fought hard to make it this far–this is the first time we’ve made it into the semis, so let’s keep running until the very end, yeah?”

to the team’s increasingly loud cheers, hongjoong yells, “let’s fuck it up out there!”

their sticks hit the ground in unison and despite the muted sound of the cushioned flooring, their shouts of fighting resolve and unwavering determination drown out everything else. together, you emerge from the hallway and your starting players take their positions on the ice, ready to fuck it up.

only, it happens literally.

the moment the puck hits the ice and the white tigers’ centre forward, byun, wrestles it away with his blade, hongjoong immediately knows it is going to be one of those games. the ones where his competitive grit is fueling his mind ablaze but his body is leaden-footed as if he is wading through quicksand; where his body is just unable to keep up and move the way he wants it to. it is one of those days where his condition is just inexplicably off and there is nothing he can do about it except hope that his years of training and sheer aptitude for the sport will be enough.

“fuck,” you curse under your breath at hongjoong’s slip as jongho and yeosang rush to fall back and support those in defence. “he wasn’t like that during the warm-ups.”

byun is not only agile and swift, but is almost an identical reflection of hongjoong’s own bold and assertive offence. the centre forward powers through with evasive turns around yunho’s attempt to body check him, unafraid and confident. passing the blue line into your team’s defensive zone, byun flicks the puck at the goal.

the point shot is an unexceptional attempt to score, nothing that san’s reflexive goaltending cannot take care of. he extends his left foot and blocks the low shot with his leg pad, where the puck then slides in yunho’s direction. you did not doubt for a moment that san would not be able to save the shot, but it is still a close call that is far too early in the game to be a good sign.

your team’s greatest strength is their unspoken synergy and seamless unity, but it is also their greatest weakness. when one player stumbles, particularly when it is their captain–the very roots of the team–their bond runs so deeply that it throws their teamwork out of harmony and ultimately impacts the entire team.

with san’s save, yunho regains possession and handles the puck around the back of their net to shake off the pressure that the white tigers’ forwards are placing on him, as well as to buy his own team some time to reassemble in their formation.

you know that this is not going to work for long; you have to change the momentum of the game, and fast. “seonghwa, get ready,” you alert. “you’re going on for hongjoong.”

the alternate captain stands, alarmed at the unexpected line change so early into the game. he grips his stick with white knuckles and watches his team as he waits for your cue. yunho hits the puck against the boards where yeosang successfully receives the rebound.

“breakout!” yeosang yells and rushes forward with the chasing skates of the opponents nipping at his heels. jongho clears the centre line into the offensive zone at the same time hongjoong screens and blocks the view of the white tigers’ goaltender, setting up for an opportunity to score.

when the opponent’s left defence and wing advance on yeosang rapidly, he fakes a deceptive pass towards the boards before twisting the blade of his stick and flicking the puck between their skates instead in hongjoong’s direction. but like an eagle honing in on a small rodent, byun swoops in to snatch the puck, flipping the possession again.

the tides turn and all the athletes on the rink race towards your team’s net, a cutthroat competition between triumph and desperation to chase the puck. byun passes to the player on his left as they both dash closer, the left forward immediately returning the puck the moment he receives it to break past mingi’s defence.

you are able to see the white tigers’ right wing following closely behind ready for a drop pass, but in your team’s frenzied minds, they are unable to read the play. yunho approaches byun, who is expecting the defence and leaves the puck behind whilst skating on, knowing that it will be received by his trailing teammate. with the momentary confusion that is enough to disrupt both yunho and san’s gaze on the puck, the opponent’s right wing winds his stick back just enough to build power without sacrificing speed, then slaps the puck into the corner of the goal–

–and scores. within the first three minutes of the game.

“seonghwa,” you call out again with urgency as the whistle blows. you turn to look at him, “you’re up. you have to break the flow of the team. not just the white tigers, but ours too–the boys are panicking and you need to help anchor them.”

he nods, steadying his hand on the board in preparation to hop over it, and you yell out for the captain, “change!”

hongjoong sees the gesture of your hand pointing at the bench, and although his chest tightens with frustration at himself, he speeds towards the edge of the rink to change. once the captain is close enough, seonghwa pushes his skate off the benches to launch himself over the top of the boards onto the ice then propels himself forward to take the centre faceoff.

the captain sits down heavily on the bench, defeat already broiling off of his slumped body in smothering swells. you really cannot afford to take your eyes off the game; it waits for nobody and the whistle has already blown, the rink erupting into commotion. but whilst you need to watch the game unfold, you need hongjoong just as much, and his team needs him.

you turn him slightly to face you so that he can see your face of resolution. “you are the captain, so be the captain–for the team…and for yourself,” you invigorate, voice raised so that he can hear you over the noise of the stadium. 

you give his shoulder a hard squeeze, certain he will not be able to even feel it from under the pads of his uniform. regardless, he understands your intentions and nods grimly, the fog in his eyes clearing. wooyoung taps the back of his helmet in a show of encouragement and hongjoong returns the gesture with appreciation. 

a particularly loud thump draws the attention of all three of you back to the game. from the grimace on yeosang’s face and his hand steadying himself on the boards, it is obvious he has just been body checked into the wall. seonghwa pursues the puck with graceful yet powerful speed before he digs both skates perpendicular into the ice to suddenly change direction. pushing off, he accelerates back towards the white tigers’ defensive zone when mingi manages to disrupt the opponent’s stickhandling enough for yunho to sweep the puck and skate it up the perimeter of the rink away from their net.

wooyoung also goes on for yeosang but as the left wing, so jongho switches position to play as the right forward. he skates past the benches when an opportunity arises and he hands off his stick whilst grabbing his right-handed stick from you with practised ease.

with the line change of forwards and with seonghwa on as your centre, your team stabilises to an extent. the red devils are no longer being pushed back but they are also unable to push forward. the game is at a stalemate, although the tides remain in favour of the white tigers with both their positional and psychological advantage of the first goal.

you can see the pressure weighing down on your boys; passes that yunho and mingi would be capable of executing blindfolded are miscalculated; predictable manoeuvres still mislead wooyoung in the wrong direction; seonghwa and jongho fail to notice the opportunities for clear passing and shooting lanes; and the openings appear far too wide and innumerable for san to cover the goal from. the relentless offensive pressure that the white tigers places on your team, strikingly similar to how the boys played when you first started coaching them, does not give any breathing room either.

so that is how the first period comes to an end–losing zero to one with none of your players performing at their best condition. their steps are heavy and burdened as they walk back to the locker room for the intermission, helmets removed the moment they come off the ice to reveal hardened expressions. in the privacy of your assigned room, most of the boys adjust the pads in their gear and yunho peels off his shin guards to let them air out.

you pass around their iced bottles and as exhausted as they are, they make sure to voice their gratitude. san grabs wooyoung’s bottle for him, since the younger is bent over loosening the laces of his left skate. “here,” san murmurs, twisting open the cap and passing it to wooyoung once he straightens his back.

similarly, seonghwa hands over an opened bottle to yeosang before taking a swig of his own. “you’re okay?” he checks, the particularly rough body check that yeosang had copped earlier in the game still at the forefront of his mind.

yeosang gives the alternate captain a reassuring smile, “i’m okay.”

appeased by the answer, seonghwa turns to look at hongjoong, who is re-taping the blade of his stick. “what about you?” seonghwa softly asks, “you’re feeling okay?”

hongjoong glances up briefly at the back of your figure. you are busy shifting the red magnets around on the whiteboard and erasing the markings you had made prior to the start of the semifinals. when you turn around to gather their attention, you accidentally make eye contact with him and break out into a small smile.

“yeah,” hongjoong replies, “i’m feeling okay.”

“alright, listen up boys, that was just the first period. we’re not even halfway into this game and we’ve started to even up the playing field now that we’ve found our footing,” you encourage. “we just have to make sure we keep our heads cool and read their plays instead of simply reacting to their movements.”

you look at each of them as you direct, “their centre forward, byun, has been on for almost all of first period, so there’s probably going to be a shift change, if not a complete line change of forwards. they have the leniency to swap out their top players since they’re in the lead, which means if we want to break their momentum, we need to break it then.”

shifting yourself slightly out of the way, the boys are able to see the new arrangement of positions you have marked out on the whiteboard. “we’re starting the second period by sharpening our offence in the 2-2-1 formation,” you explain. you beckon your head at the captain, “hongjoong, you’re back on. you and wooyoung are to position yourselves up high between the neutral and offensive zones–try to screen their goaltender when our boys have possession. yunho, i want you to move up to our blue line with jongho and open up as many passing lanes as you two can. mingi will stay in defence and help cover the goal with san in case the white tigers makes a counterattack.

“use this opportunity to make as many scoring chances as you can. if there isn’t a clear shot but there’s a chance it can be continued on by another one of us, then go for it anyway–any sort of pressure we can put on their team is better than none.”

your forwards nod with understanding, so you continue to the most important point, “but the moment byun and the wings–kim and song, i think they are–come back on, we’re reversing the formation.” you reposition half of the magnets into a 1-2-2 formation. “only hongjoong will stay up high; wooyoung will fall back and join jongho in the neutral zone; put pressure on their forwards from there. yunho and mingi, you’ll play left and right defence as usual.”

san listens intently when you start moving the black magnets that represent the opposing players and call out to him directly. you warn, “san, be careful of their drop passes. kim and song have been skating forward but leaving the puck behind for byun to score multiple times throughout the first period. they have you primed to predict it now, so they’re probably going to change their tactic and pass directly in front of the goal instead.”

“yes, coach,” san acknowledges.

a glance at the screen on the wall of the locker room tells you that there are only a few minutes left of the intermission. “gear up and get ready to go back on,” you instruct the boys.

they make final adjustments to their pads and yunho tapes his shin guards back into place under his socks. you make sure they all have their helmets and sticks when they start to file out of the locker room once they are ready and you grab wooyoung’s gloves for him while he ties the laces of his skates again.

“thanks,” he reaches out for them as he stands up. except he stumbles slightly when he puts weight on his left ankle and your hand instinctively grabs his to steady him.

your eyes grow wide with concern. you know that wooyoung is the type to keep quiet about his pain, even if you ask, “does your ankle hurt?”

“no, my legs just fell asleep on me from sitting,” he reassures, conscious of your hand that still holds his. he smiles through his lie and hopes that you are unable to pick up on it. the buzzer sounds before you can, though, warning you both that there is only one minute remaining until the game resumes.

hurriedly you tell him, “let me know if you need to come off.”

somebody yells out your names, forcing you both to rush off to join the rest of the team in the hallway. wooyoung knows that he should admit to you right there and then that his ankle does hurt, but he will not–he cannot…because he owes it to his team.

they do not know and they will never know, but there is not a day that goes past where wooyoung does not feel guilty for having desired for their loss last year. he has to play and win this championship for his team because only then can he start to forgive himself. but until he wins, he deserves to suffer.

those in the lineup rapidly glide across the ice to take their positions, wooyoung included. a short buzzer sounds, the puck is dropped, and the second period starts. immediately you can see that your boys have the advantage. the white tigers had not expected you to take such an aggressive approach of offence considering that you are losing.

and sure enough, just as you had predicted, their coach has changed their entire line of forwards. the players are still undeniably skilled, but they visibly struggle to match the pace at which hongjoong and wooyoung are now leading your team to attack.

the rink is under the boys’ control; the neutral zone has become a stronghold with the resistance of both jongho and yunho’s combined strength and mingi’s reinforcement from behind. wooyoung weaves through the players with polished agility as he creates passing opportunities around the offensive zone, whilst hongjoong makes his own path with imposing might, his devilish wings spread. and even if the white tigers somehow manage to gain possession of the puck and break past your defence, san looks impossibly larger than the goal itself, leaving no openings for their forwards to score.

it is well into the second period when the perfect play sets itself up. with mingi blocking any possible rebounds off the boards, yunho’s attempt to body check the white tigers’ right wing forces the player to pass the puck across the ice. before their centre forward is able to receive it, jongho has already intercepted and is thundering ahead with his stick controlling the puck.

“high!” he shouts, ploughing through the neutral zone as wooyoung and hongjoong immediately respond to his call and skate up towards the goal.

jongho deliberately looks at his captain but flicks the puck with a forehand pass in the other direction, too fast for the defenders to react to. wooyoung easily receives the anticipated pass, thighs burning and his left ankle stinging as he rushes towards the goal from the left with powerful acceleration. the white tigers’ goaltender immediately lowers his stance and raises his arms in preparation to block his shot.

in the corner of his eye, wooyoung sees hongjoong matching his lightning pace on his right, the captain’s eyes narrowed with concentration and body weight tilted forward as he hurtles past the defenders. wooyoung pretends to wind up his stick for a slap shot into the net, only to twist the angle of his arms at the last second to send the puck skittering across the ice directly parallel to the goal. the goaltender drops down to his knees, having anticipated a scoring attempt, except the puck is now nearing hongjoong.

hongjoong sees it clearly–the trajectory that the puck is taking and the perfect point where it needs to meet his stick. without breaking its momentum, his arms contract to swing his stick and the blade collides with the puck with forceful precision, sending it hurtling through the air. the goaltender desperately scrabbles back onto his skates to defend the other side of the goal, but it is too late.

the puck flies past the posts and hits the netting.

the horn blares and echoing cheers erupt throughout the stadium as the lights flick on to shine across the net and your forward players. hongjoong yells with fierce triumph, stick raised into the air as wooyoung excitedly collides into him. the duo disappear amongst the bodies of your boys as they swarm around them feverish exuberance.

“that’s our fucking captain–” “–woo’s assist was insane!”

hongjoong cannot even tell who is who as he is jostled around in overjoyed laughter and beaming smiles, numerous hands reaching out to tap his and wooyoung’s helmets and shoulders. from outside the rink, you, seonghwa and yeosang have long stopped sitting on the benches, bodies too strung tight with hopeful tension to stay seated, so you are immediately swept up into a hug as the three of you celebrate the goal with identical exhilaration.

the game is still far from over but the morale has just skyrocketed through the roof as if the red devils have scored the winning goal. combined with the team’s fans electrifying the atmosphere of the stadium, it definitely feels like it, and you are starting to see hope that the ones advancing to the finals after today will be your boys.

“line change!” you faintly hear, so you still to watch all three of the white tigers’ forwards skate towards the boards. byun, kim and song jump onto the rink, back on offence in the wake of your goal.

hongjoong makes eye contact with you when you search for him amongst the team huddle and in unison, you both nod, pride and determination unspoken in your gazes–the real game is about to start now. the boys start to disperse and take up their positions around the marked circle for the centre faceoff, and hongjoong and byun meet head-to-head once again in the middle of the rink.

the white tigers’ centre forward smirks condescendingly, “cute goal.”

hongjoong’s face thunders over but he will not let himself resort to dirty sportsmanship. he bites his tongue and lowers his stance, focusing his attention on the game instead.

“ready,” the referee signals, then the puck is released.

byun manages to steal it and sends it backwards to his defensemen to open up more passing lanes, but as discussed, your boys mutually move into the 1-2-2 formation to fortify against their offensive plays. despite the pressure of the white tigers’ top forwards back in play, your team is riding on the momentum of your goal; although you had been treading to keep your heads above the water during the first period, there is now an air of confidence that permeates the ambience of the rink in favour of your boys. 

an angled pass from their defence rebounds off the boards and kim receives it high in the neutral zone. he attempts an immediate pass across the ice to song, except the safety net of your player’s defensive formation allows mingi to thrust out with his stick to intercept the pass. he signals, “breakout!” before deflecting it to wooyoung.

the turnover of possession immediately triggers a switch in defence to offence as wooyoung handles the puck back the other way. his wrists twist the stick with measured coordination, controlling the blade and puck as an extension of his own hands while approaching the offensive zone. wooyoung sees the white tigers’ defensemen racing towards him so he abruptly pivots towards the left to drag the black disc around their extended sticks.

suddenly, a sharp pain engulfs his ankle that has his legs crumbling as he staggers off balance. wooyoung manages to stay upright, using his stick to steady himself, but the momentary stumble is more than enough of an opening for byun to steal possession from behind him.

the rival centre forward swerves around jongho then stays close to the perimeter to avoid mingi’s resistant defence. behind mingi, san splays his legs out as he prepares to block the left side of the goal, but byun continues blazing on and wraps around the back of the net. san follows his movement and swiftly shifts over to the right instead while byun cradles the puck with his blade to lift it into the air the moment he approaches.

yunho cannot risk a penalty by raising his own stick to block its trajectory, so he shifts his body in hopes of deflecting the shot before it reaches san. but byun’s wrists snap and tuck the airborne puck at a sharp angle right past the red goalpost…and the horn blows to mark the scoring of a goal.

your jaw plummets at the same time that your heart does. not even your lungs work, your body frozen stock-still. once more, the white tigers are back in the lead only mere minutes after the score had been painstakingly tied by your team.

“fuck!” wooyoung curses and slams his gloved fist against the ice, having dropped to his knees in enraged denial.

seonghwa looks on with despondence from beside you as hongjoong drags wooyoung back up to his feet. the captain’s jaws are clenched in frustration but only because of the score itself–never because of his boys. when mingi and yunho try to comfort san with firm squeezes and uttered reassurances, he can only return a tight smile, all three of their breaths heavy and irregular from exertion and dismay.

for the boys to have climbed so arduously and persistently to even the scores, only to be knocked off and their momentum obliterated so mercilessly soon, it is even more demoralising than the white tigers’ first goal. after all, the higher the climb, the harder the fall.

through the deep ache in your heart, you mutedly say to yeosang, “go on for wooyoung, and tell jongho to change sticks and play as left wing.”

“yes, coach,” he replies, voice delicate. yeosang waits as you gesture for wooyoung to come off before he hops over the boards and skates in jongho’s direction.

“woo,” you murmur as your left wing makes his way back to the benches, but he avoids your gaze and keeps his head down. you bite your lips and decide not to push it for now. instead, you press an opened bottle into his gloved hand.

wooyoung is thankful that the bottle is half empty, because his hand unconsciously clenches around it with quivering shame and he would have spilled the water were it full. he makes no move to bring the bottle up to his lips; he doubts the water would go down his constricted throat anyway. the penetrative guilt of his tears hurts immeasurably more than the piercing throb of his ankle because he may have just cost his team the win…again.

even when the buzzer signals the end of the second period, wooyoung dares not to look up. the score is one to two and it is his fault. the intermission passes by in a haze of dissociation, his body robotically moving on autopilot into the locker room and back to the ice rink. wooyoung does not even know whether there are line changes to the positions or whether the game strategy has been altered.

but it does not matter because it does not concern him–as if any coach would put him on after his grave mistake. what wooyoung fails to notice though is the glances of worry in his direction, and they do not come solely from his boys.

the stakes run at their highest in the third and final period. tension suffocates the entire stadium, invisible hands that snake around your throats with a hangman’s loose and make you break out into cold sweats. all the players on the ice rink put everything that they have on the line because by the end of the next twenty minutes, only one team will be advancing to the finals.

from the moment the puck is dropped into play and the timer resumes, the rink is a torrential battlefield of contesting skates and grappling sticks. dramatic passes and unforeseen interceptions lead to rapid turnovers that force both teams to hastily switch back and forth between offence and defence.

but everyone learns of the juxtapositions of the world early on in life. there is no light without dark, there is no happiness without sadness, there is no spring without autumn…and there is no victory without defeat. for every scoring attempt that the red devils make, the white tigers make three, steadily and gradually pushing your boys back in the final stretch of the game. and while most of your forwards’ goals are blocked in the nick of time, most of theirs are not.

as a last resort in the face of the crisis, you calculate the risks then add seonghwa onto the field. “yunho, change!” you yell, pulling him off defence.

“behind you,” byun alerts song as seonghwa powers across the ice right into the cutthroat action, before cursing when the white tigers nearly lose possession of the puck.

your two captains unrelentingly pursue the black disc at the forefront of your team, their complementary synergy and unity a whirlwind of prowess to be reckoned with as they try not to let the burden of scoring weigh them down. despite the overwhelming pressure as the team’s last line of defence, even more so now that you have sacrificed stability to capitalise on having two centre forwards, san’s cat-like eyes do not cloud over, only intensely scanning the field and the opponent’s plays.

you glance at the clock. there are only two minutes left and even the combined efforts of your forwards is not working. you never thought that you would ever have to do this as a coach, but now you are afraid there is no choice. “yunho,” you urge.

his head turns to you and you see the ashen pallor of your own face reflected on his as the very probable outcome of the game dawns across your minds. you make your decision. “you’re going back on. for san.”

yunho’s eyes widen. “for san? i can’t play as goaltender–”

“no,” you shake your head, “we’re playing without a goaltender.”

sixty seconds.

save for wooyoung, all of your defenders, wings and centre forwards make a last-minute spurt to attack, not letting their bodies recover for even a split second as they strain their burning legs and gasping lungs.

thirty seconds.

they desperately break past the physical boundaries of their own stamina into their last reserves of pure grit and will, draining every last drop that their mental resilience has to offer.

ten seconds.

they do not give up. they try again and again to score. but against all of your prayers, all of your tears and sweat and against all of your hopes, the gap does not close. the final buzzer blares throughout the entire stadium, marking the red devil’s loss.

two to six.

your players stand motionless, ghosts of denial and despair amongst the crazed jumps and bounds of celebration as the white tigers flock across the rink towards one another. hongjoong tilts his head upwards to stop the rush of tears from falling down his face, both yunho and seonghwa mirrors of his pain as sweat and tears drip down in salty trails. san grasps the edge of the board in front of him, his head hung low and shoulders quaking from how hard he tries to stifle his sobs so that wooyoung does not hear him.

not one of your boys are able to accept the results of the match. not even you can bring yourself to utter a single word of consolation, be it for yourself or for them. and as you watch the wretched image of your heartbroken boys, choking back tears of your own that you are unaware still manage to escape the corners of your eyes, the only sounds in your ears their stricken cries, you are reminded that the path of an athlete and coach is nothing like its portrayal in movies and stories; where hard work triumphs and leads to sure success.

the harsh reality is that there is no dramatic comeback. there is no underdog victory. there is no miracle and there is no final to advance to. you and your boys lose by triple the amount of your own goals and just like that, the journey has come to an end at the semifinals.

it is an anticlimactic defeat, the gap so far that your team could not even see the light at the end of the tunnel. and somehow…that feels far worse than losing by just a marginal difference.

the locker room is mostly quiet, the silence punctuated only by the closing of zippers and rustling of canvas as the boys who have finished showering and changing pack the rest of their gear for the final time. there are no more intermittent sniffles, leaving behind a miserable hush of emptiness instead. even the dying flicker of the light in the far corner of the ceiling thrums with more energy than the boys combined.

you sit on one of the benches and absentmindedly thumb through your notebook. seonghwa sits to your right, his kit bag already long organised and tidied to preoccupy his mind. the warmth from the close proximity of your thighs and elbows is a gracious comfort to the both of you. it no longer makes your backs straighten with uptightness, conscious of the boundaries between coach and athlete–not after your hearts and bodies melded together in hugs of solace after the final buzzer of the semifinals and melted away those lines.

seonghwa places his hand soothingly on your knee and murmurs, “stop looking at that. we’ll think about it later all together.”

none of the words or diagrams had been registering in your head, but you nod and close your notebook anyway. he probably does not want to see it either. you rest your head back against the wall behind you with a small exhale, blankly watching your team instead until your eyes travel around the room. 

you count, then count again, before calling out, “captain, is wooyoung still showering?”

hongjoong cranes his neck around at the same time that everybody else does as well. “don’t think so,” he frowns, “i’m pretty sure he was one of the first ones out.”

wooyoung’s kit bag is still unpacked in his locker, so he is definitely not already waiting for the bus outside. before his absence can raise any alarms–the last thing the boys need on their plate right now–you stand and announce, “i’ll go find him. he probably just lost track of time.”

“do you need me to come with you?” yeosang rises to his feet.

you shake your head and reassure, “keep packing your bag.” then you turn to make your way out of the locker room when somebody calls out for you.

“coach, wait.”

it’s san, who skitters in front of you to press something into your hands. “give this to him when you see him?”

the item crinkles and a glance downwards reveals that it is an instant ice pack. you smile softly, stuffing it into the pocket of your jacket and hoping that nobody notices the ice pack that is already in there. “of course,” you gently touch his forearm. “i’ll be back.”

this time you make it out to the corridor but you do not get further than four steps before another voice stops you.

“coach!”

when you turn around, hongjoong emerges from the doorway. he slows down as he catches up to stand in front of you. “i…” his voice falters. “i’m sorry.”

i’m sorry i didn’t realise wooyoung was gone. i’m sorry i didn’t do my job as captain…and i’m sorry for losing. 

“no,” you shake your head. “don’t be.” because you tried your best…and you did not give up. beckoning in the direction of the locker room, you tell him, “take care of the boys, okay? i’ll be back with wooyoung.”

the rigidity in hongjoong’s shoulders dissipates. “thank you…y/n.”

you smile, “anytime, hongjoong.” you wait for him to walk back inside before you finally turn to find wooyoung.

the arena is massive but apart from the locker room–which you already know wooyoung is not in–there are limited places that offer privacy from the multitude of people who mill around, be it other athletes, staff or spectators. you know from personal experience, so you head to the one place that is usually guaranteed to be somewhat out of the public eye.

“oh, fuck me,” wooyoung startles when you sit yourself down heavily on the same step as him, his curse echoing around the both of you. “how the fuck did you know i would be here?”

you snort, bumping his shoulder with yours. “i hate to burst your bubble, but this isn’t exactly an original experience. i’m pretty sure every athlete has hidden here to cry at one point in their career.”

the slight spark of light that had ignited within wooyoung at your appearance suddenly flickers out, reminded of why exactly he is hiding in the emergency stairwell in the first place. shame tears his eyes away from you, unable to meet your gaze any longer.

“i want to be left alone,” he murmurs.

although you respect his request, that is the opposite of what he needs. left to his own thoughts and devices, you know that wooyoung will spiral dangerously in guilt and self-reproach, even if the red devil’s loss is not his fault–is not anybody’s fault.

the two of you sit in silence, wooyoung intermittently swiping at a lone tear that threatens to drip off his chin, and you mulling over the words that you hold close to your heart. eventually, you break the quietude with a soft chuckle.

“the first game i ever played i was actually on left defence. our team was losing by two goals and i suddenly had the puck. i still remember seeing an opening in the goal and feeling the surge of confidence that i did when i hit the puck…but you know what?”

wooyoung does not answer, does not look up from where he is picking at his cuticles, but you can feel his curiosity so you continue, “it was an own goal. i scored into my own team’s net and it wasn’t until i scored another goal before i finally realised which way i was meant to go. obviously, my team wasn’t very happy with me, but then i ended up winning the game for them anyway and that’s how i started playing as centre forward.

“there was also a time during internationals where i argued against the ref’s call and got myself put into the penalty box. it cost our team a goal–the tiebreaker, too. i learnt my lesson and never did that again. and then there was the first couple of years i started to coached. i thought i had enough experience as a player to be a perfect coach. it wasn’t until one of my teams told me to pull my head out of my ass that i realised i was anything but.”

that gets a small snicker from out of him. you deliberate, “i’d like to think that we make the best team now, though.”

he scowls disgruntledly, “we’re your only team.”

“and my favourite team, too,” you laugh softly, gauging his expression. “my point is, wooyoung, we all make mistakes. but the reason why we make them in the first place is because we love playing. we do what our heart wants to in the moment and we play for ourselves because otherwise, there would be nothing left of us without ice hockey. what matters is that we stand up again and learn from the experience.”

wooyoung feels the weight of your words settling heavily in his chest because they are only half true to him. his passion and love for the sport indeed burns eternally as a blazing inferno inside of him, but his persistence to play today was due to ulterior motives. to acknowledge that aloud is a different story, though.

your voice takes on a lighter tone, “although i guess in this case, you should be sitting down with that ankle of yours. you know you should not be gambling with your injuries.”

he finally looks at you; a former athlete who did not even have the luxury to gamble your injury. it suddenly scares him to imagine just an ounce of the conflicting anguish that must course through you at his continuous decisions to endanger his own career–the anguish that you have made sure to never show, lest it affect them.

“do you ever feel angry?” wooyoung abruptly asks, voice laced with hesitation.

it is your turn to look away. you know that the question is not directed at himself but your entire career. with a bittersweet chuckle, you allow yourself to admit, “every day. i still get angry and i still get upset. i wake up in the morning wondering why it had to be me and i go to bed at night wondering why i didn’t deserve a second chance.

“but i’m okay; it gets easier to be okay. coaching means that i still get to go on the ice, i still get to experience the adrenaline of games and i still get to play through you guys. and most of all…i still have a team. i don’t know if i will ever stop feeling angry, but it’s better than it used to be.”

at your admission, wooyoung is reminded of how you are possibly the only one who would be able to truly understand him. he musters his courage and confesses, “i wanted us to lose last year…and we did end up losing.”

it catches you off guard, the direction of the conversation not what you had expected, but you neutralise your expression and tone so as to not make him feel defensive. “how come?”

he swallows. “my ankle–i fractured it last year just before we made it into the playoffs, so i wasn’t able to compete. i had been so angry at first; angry at myself for getting injured, angry at my coach for not letting me play, angry at my team because they could play. then when it became clear that i wasn’t going to be able to compete regardless of how angry i was, i became jealous, insecure and…afraid. jongho and i share the same position, and i mean, look at him now–he’s able to play both left and right wing. if they had won the playoffs without me, then would the team really need me?

“they did end up losing, just like i had wanted them to, but that made me feel so much worse–made me realise just how terrible i am of a person. the guilt eats me alive every single day and i tell myself that i will make it up to them this time, that i will risk everything to win for them…” wooyoung scoffs pathetically at himself, “only for me to fuck things up because of my fucking ankle again.”

you get it. the slow gnawing of yourself from the endless feelings that you ‘should not have’ until you become no more than an empty husk. ever since your own injury, you have spent nights on end trying to reconcile with your emotions in your own confusing and formidable journey, but for the first time ever, you are grateful that you did–because you can keep wooyoung company on his. 

you carefully voice, “i think it was okay for you to have felt the way that you did. they’re your feelings and nobody can invalidate them nor your experience. what i came to realise was that all of those ‘ugly’ feelings do not make us ugly for having them–they simply make us human. it is only a problem when those feelings end up hurting other people, but i think the person you hurt the most…was yourself, wooyoung.”

at your words, he looks at you with wide eyes, a fresh swell of wetness gathering in them. wooyoung is kind and loving to everybody, yet has never once thought about deserving that kindness and love for himself. you smile gently, trying to hide the slight quiver in your own lips as your heart clenches with a desire to be loved in his stead.

“you know, woo, i’ve watched basically all of your past games including the quarterfinals from last year. but if i were to compare it to today’s game, it was as if two completely different teams were playing. your team was alive today–a truly united team where every member is the driving force behind each other’s passion for the game. i am pretty confident when i say that a huge part of it was because you were playing with them–because the team was finally whole again.

“yes, the trophy and the championship title is coveted but it is not what truly matters to them and neither to you. it wasn’t the actual win itself that you wanted today, but being able to win for them. and if your boys were to pick between winning without you and losing with you, i’m pretty sure you know better than i do what their immediate choice would be.”

should the other boys be here right now, they would instantly berate your ears off for even suggesting the first option. the thought flickers through wooyoung’s mind too and the corners of his lips tug upwards slightly.

still, he apprehensively confirms, “...no one is angry at me?”

“no,” you reply, voice soft, “not at all. but we are worried.”

you are reminded of the weight in the pocket of your jacket. pulling it out, you present the ice pack to wooyoung. “look, san told me to give this to you.”

his fingertips brush against your palm when he reaches out, hand hovering over the ice pack as if he does not dare to touch it. “san did?” he whispers.

when you nod, the final confirmation that he needs that nobody–you included–harbours ill feelings for him and his actions, he allows himself to take the ice pack. allows himself to love himself.

“you need to take care of your body,” you fondly chastise, lightening the atmosphere. “did coach cho not drill into you that as an athlete, your body is your most valuable asset? if you thought he was bad, he’s going to seem like an angel when i’m through with you. you won’t just be banned from playing, i’ll tie you to the bed to make sure you don’t walk on that ankle.”

wooyoung laughs through the few tears that are left, mood lifted enough to suggestively lift his eyebrows and quip, “kinky.” his laughter grows when you punch his arm in response.

no longer does he have to carry this burden alone because you are there for him now. but you know that you are not the only one who can be there for wooyoung. the dynamic between the boys runs past mere teammates and from what you have noticed, quite possibly even friends.

tentatively, you suggest, “maybe this is something you should tell the others about. that way you can truly let things go.”

his gaze wavers at the idea as he looks at you. yet, the miniscule smile and encouraging nod you give him fills him with tranquillity. perhaps it is time to let go, but the only way he can truly do that is if he is honest to the boys about his feelings–if he is honest to himself.

“okay,” he breathes out softly.

you grace him with another beat of silence before you stand up, extending your hand out to him. “let’s go.”

wooyoung takes your offered hand and lets you pull him up to his feet. he does not know if it is intentional, but the slight squeeze you give him right before your hand lets go of his fills him with warmth. the feeling stays with him even when he activates the ice pack as you two walk back to the locker room.

right at the doorway where the rest of the team is behind, you stop. you place your hand on wooyoung’s back, whose brows are starting to furrow in confusion. “i’ll be waiting out here. take your time,” you tell him.

“thank you, coach,” wooyoung returns your soft smile.

before you can think better of it, you reply, “i wasn’t talking to you as your coach…but as your friend.” then you nudge him towards the doorway with tender encouragement, waiting for him to walk through the threshold before you close the door behind him.

the first few months you had coached the red devils, mistrust had been in the shape of private conversations that deliberately excluded you. but now, trust is in the conversations that you know you do not need to be a part of. so you simply lean against the wall and wait.

and when they emerge from the locker room half an hour later, you know you have made the right decision upon seeing their eased expressions and relaxed shoulders. the air is still sombre, their defeat in the semifinals still fresh at the forefront of everybody’s minds, but what matters now is that they will face the loss together–the eight of them and you.

“here you go.”

hongjoong hands you your bag so that you do not have to go back in to grab it. you take it graciously from him, then with him by your side, you two lead the group through the arena–past the gazes and whispers that follow your group–and out to the team’s bus.

first to load his kit bag, yeosang takes his usual seat towards the front and waits. he has long developed the habit of placing his backpack under the seat in front of him instead of beside him. as the bus starts to pull away once all the bags are properly stored, you wordlessly take the seat next to him. your knees intermittently brush up against each other with the slight sway of the bus, but neither one of you make a move to shift your legs away.

you and yeosang watch the outside world whirl by the window, just like you always do. except the flowers that have bloomed among the trees–that had been bursts of positivity and vibrancy only just this morning–are now bittersweet reminders of the fall that you and the boys have just experienced.

a brief movement below your line of vision causes you to glance down. it is yeosang’s hand, palm upturned with a silent invitation of solace. you slide your fingers into his, an extension of the comfort you wish to give to them, and them to you.

what you and the boys do not realise, though, is that your flowers have simply bloomed elsewhere.

your jaw drops in sync with the last of the heavy suitcases that seonghwa rests on the floor outside their apartment complex. the amount of his luggage is easily equivalent to at least half the team’s.

“these are all yours?” you confirm.

seonghwa looks at you strangely, “of course. why?”

you look at him strangely. “are you planning on moving? why did you pack enough for a trip around the world?”

“well somebody didn’t want to tell us where we were going, so i had to make sure i was prepared for wherever our destination would be.”

“it’s called a surprise for a reason,” you shake your head, “and i did tell you to pack for cold weather, didn’t i?”

seonghwa fakes offence, scoffing, “can i remind you that it is still spring here, so my apologies for assuming that it might potentially mean we are travelling overseas.”

“you’re such a worrywart, you old fart,” wooyoung teases, circling around the older on his rideable suitcase.

seonghwa yelps when the wheels nearly run over his toes and he threatens, “next time you wet through your entire pack of underwear, don’t come crawling and begging for my spares.”

the suitcase halts indignantly to a stop with its rider. “that was one time,” wooyoung complains, “and it wasn’t even my fault!”

“it wasn’t even my fault,” seonghwa mocks. “i told you not to put your shampoo in a ziplock bag but no, you said that it would be fine.”

wooyoung sticks his index finger up. “correction, hongjoong said that it would be fine.”

“what the fuck, wooyoung,” hongjoong blanches at the sudden disclosure.

“and that’s exactly where you are at fault,” seonghwa cocks his eyebrow at wooyoung. “why would you listen to him?”

“what the fuck, seonghwa. i’m your captain,” hongjoong scowls.

“only during games.”

when you make eye contact with san, the two of you can only sigh with amused resignation. the rest of the boys shake their heads and proceed to load their luggage onto the bus, leaving the trio to feud it out in the background.

as mingi stacks his luggage beside yunho’s, he turns to ask, “are you sure we don’t need our kits?”

“you all brought your skates and sticks with you?” you question in return. when mingi and yunho nod, you reassure them, “then that’s all you need.”

jongho pipes up from beside you, “but what about training?”

“mental training,” you simply grin before hopping up the stairs to sit beside yeosang.

the boys gradually take their seats, even wooyoung and the two oldest despite their continued bickering. somebody yells out over the commotion, “coach! are you going to tell us where we’re going now?”

you peer backwards over the top of your seat to find everyone’s eager eyes on you. “nope,” you snicker, “you’ll find out when we get there. we are going on a holiday though, i’ll tell you that much.”

there is a surge of excitement at your confirmation and a similar fluttering eagerness flits through you, except yours is because you cannot wait to see their reactions. you really hope that the next two weeks will help to reset the team’s morale and give them a much-needed break.

“kq let us go on holiday?” yeosang asks with an impressed look as you settle back in your seat.

you give him a proud smirk. “i’m pretty convincing when i want to be. plus, we just had playoffs and we would all benefit from the rest. what better time to do that than at the start of the off-season?”

“there is no better time.”

“exactly.”

and so the bus starts the four-hour drive towards what the boys will soon come to realise is a team retreat. mingi connects his phone to the bluetooth, in charge of shuffling the music that blasts through the speakers, turning the atmosphere of the bus into a lively concert once it becomes obvious that it is going to be a long trip.

you have to yell over their deafening singing–which you have to admit actually sounds quite impressive–numerous times for them to sit their asses down, their enthusiasm uncontainable by the seat belts and law regulations. but they look their age, free and untroubled; just a group of boys up to their silly antics with one another, so you cannot bring yourself to truly regulate them.

the bus drives on, making a rest stop at one of the service areas along the highway so that you can stretch your legs in fresh air, use the restrooms and most importantly–

“food!”

their hollers resound before the doors of the bus even open. the second that the gap is large enough to fit one of them through, most of the boys go sprinting off like a stampede of toddlers in the direction of the food court.

wooyoung stays back and slips his arm through the crook of your elbow when you step off the bus too. he grins mischievously, “i’m sticking with you so you can pay for my food.”

“oh, stop it,” yunho tugs him away, pulling even harder when it only serves to make wooyoung’s grasp tighten around your arm. “i’ll pay for your food. leave her wallet alone.”

you laugh brightly as you are jostled around and you pull a card out of your back pocket, holding it up like a golden ticket. you waggle your brows playfully, “it’s on the company card.”

both wooyoung and yunho freeze. their eyes instantaneously start to glimmer, faces radiating when they slowly look at each other. then before you can react, they pounce on you, linking their arm through yours on either side of you and dragging you along to catch up with the rest of the team.

“buy whatever you want!” wooyoung brags and waves the card that he has seized off of you, “it’s on me!”

the service area itself is a field trip as the eight boys cause carnage throughout, except the destruction is in the number of times they swipe the company card. their hands quickly fill with rice cakes and fish skewers, corn dogs and grilled squid, more bags of walnut pastries and roasted potatoes tucked safely under their elbows. they demolish the snacks at the same rate it takes for the next ones to be prepared and the card is tossed around to keep up with their purchases.

they do not forget about the drinks either, getting iced americanos and barley tea to go along with their snacks, and banana milk and soda for the next leg of the trip. whatever catches their eyes–basically everything they lay their eyes upon–they buy. you do have to draw the line at daytime drinking though, narrowing your eyes at the cases of beer jongho and yunho try to pick up until they sheepishly put them back.

(you also end up having to purchase motion sickness tablets because seonghwa and mingi gorge themselves so full on snacks that they are queasy before they even make it back on the bus. kq’s president sends you a text too, asking just what exactly you and the boys have bought to rack up almost forty consecutive purchases at a service area. but the subsequent message asking if they are enjoying themselves tells you that his question is all in good fun.)

their energy mellows out during the last hour of the trip, both from tiring themselves out and from the gradual change in the scenery outside the windows. no longer can you see an endless mirage of highway road and open fields.

as the miles build up the further you travel, it leads deeper into a mountainous woodland with the trees growing denser and thicker around you. the narrower road winds around the base of hills and the bus driver carefully navigates the undisturbed peace of the forest. it starts to get colder and when the branches of the trees gradually dress themselves in dappled layers of snow, more of you shoulder on the thick coats and puffer jackets you had told them to bring.

the bus eventually arrives at a clearing amongst the pine trees, revealing a large but welcoming cottage pension. its wooden exterior and sloped roof gives it a distinctly cosy and rustic look, with large glass doors spanning the entire height of the walls that will let you admire the surrounding mountainous beauty from inside. off to the side of the cottage, there is a sizeable lake that has frozen over and immediately, you know that this was the perfect place to choose.

the boys press their faces against the window to get a better look as the bus pulls up beside the accommodation. “woah,” they breathe out, their exhales fogging up the glass.

they follow you off the bus in a trance, mouths open and unable to peel their eyes away lest they waste even a second to drink up the sight before them. here, in the heart of the taebaek mountains, it is still a winter wonderland despite the spring blossoms that cover the rest of seoul.

you turn to face them, walking backwards slowly and spreading your arms out with fond tenderness. “welcome to your home for the next two weeks, boys.”

even though it is simply an illusion created by taebaek’s geographical location and mountainous terrain, this time you find yourself appreciating the coldness and bareness of the winter-like ambience that cocoons you and your boys. it is as if time has stopped and there are no worries…only time to heal and start afresh.

living together, even if just for a holiday, is different.

you are used to only seeing the team in their training clothes, practice jerseys or bulked up in their padded gear and uniform. but here, the boys wear lounging sweatpants and worn hoodies, hair soft and poking into their eyes, bodies and expressions unguarded as they laze around. and where you are used to only seeing them at training, meetings and games, all rigorously scheduled and planned, there are no expectations to follow and no limits as to when you see them here.

the boys have their own organised chaoticness to their daily routines, having been living together for almost seven years now, and it seamlessly integrates into the space of the cottage too. but what truly surprises you and them is how you naturally blend into it.

when you rented the pension, you had ensured there were at least three bathrooms to accommodate all nine of you. however, you quickly discover that numbers mean nothing because the boys are incapable of staggering their morning and nightly bathroom routines one by one like you had assumed they would. you also realise that it is not that they are incapable, but that they like and want to do everything together.

space within a room holds no meaning to them and they are perfectly content to stand pressed up against each other’s sides, expertly dodging elbows and leaning over one another to reach for their toothbrushes or skincare. after that first night, you wake up in the morning and patter off in search for the least cramped bathroom to wriggle yourself into, up to three of you sharing the large sink and mirror that now looks comparatively tiny as you brush your teeth together.

more often than not, you find yourself sandwiched between yunho and mingi. it is moreso a matter of neither boy letting you escape from their clutches if you happen to peer into whichever bathroom they have crammed themselves into.

“we make the perfect ratio as the two tallest plus you as the shortest,” mingi likes to rationalise, “so it averages out perfectly with three boys in each of the other bathrooms.”

“but san’s shoulders are basically the equivalent of two grown men, so your point is invalid no matter how we divide ourselves up,” you like to argue back.

except they refuse to see reason. instead, yunho raises the volume of the speaker he has set on the sink’s counter that blasts out music to playfully drown you out. you relent every time and it turns into goofy dancing from the three of you as you pull silly expressions at one another in the mirror. when you rinse your mouth, mingi will start a gargling competition without fail, but none of you have lasted for more than three seconds before you begin to choke with laughter.

(when you are with people you like, everything is funny.)

seonghwa shakes his head whenever he passes the bathroom, insisting, “the only thing you guys are missing is a disco ball.” he is definitely not jealous of the fun you three are having. not at all.

the eldest has his own routine though, visible in the way he prepares everybody’s cups of coffee in the morning. they are all made differently according to individual preferences; no sugar, double shots, a dash of milk, brown sugar, matcha powder or decaf. and despite the fact that yeosang is usually up the earliest, seonghwa does not allow him to make his own coffee.

seonghwa claims it is because nobody knows how to properly use the drip brewer, but yeosang sits next to you and murmurs into your ear, “he just won’t admit that he likes to make them for us.” it must be the chill of the morning, but yeosang’s warm, whispery voice always sends goosebumps over your arms.

by the second morning, seonghwa finds himself naturally grabbing an extra cup and the hot surprise greets you with one and a half teaspoons of sugar in it, just how you like it. hongjoong emerges from the bathroom moments later to grab his cup and as he takes a careful sip, his eyes flit over the remaining cups on the table. seonghwa can practically hear the numbers ticking up in his head.

“y/n already took hers,” he verbalises, beckoning with his chin.

hongjoong turns around in the same direction to see you curled up on the sofa next to jongho and yeosang, your feet tucked comfortably underneath you as you lean forward out of curiosity to take a sip of jongho’s americano. when your expression scrunches up from the shock of bitterness, jongho giggles brightly and steadies your hand that is holding your own cup of sweetened coffee. his eyes melt at your reaction.

“oh, i know that expression,” hongjoong chortles. “he’s a goner.”

seonghwa sees the honey in hongjoong’s own eyes and he smiles knowingly, “i don’t think he’s the only one.”

hongjoong does not peel his gaze away from the three of you all cosied up on the couch. “you’re right, they’re both goners,” he hums absentmindedly, not at all registering who exactly it is who is being referred to.

(the true answer is that there are more than three of them.)

you discover that wooyoung is usually in charge of cooking, but in return, everybody else gets up to clear and wash the dishes the moment the last pair of chopsticks is placed down on the table. that is the only time they are allowed into the kitchen because they are apparently all walking hazards.

but when wooyoung realises you can actually handle a knife without giving him grey hairs from watching, the two of you easily divide the roles and tasks between yourselves. like a waltzing dance, you move together in the kitchen to prepare the meals. he passes you the spices in the overhead cabinets before you ask and you close the fridge when he takes out a pack of meat or vegetables.

cooking with wooyoung is never without bickering. he does not let you hear the end of the time you bump your head on the edge of the counter when you try to grab a saucepan from underneath, or the time you squeal after the oil starts to splatter from the onions. but if that is the reason why he starts to subtly move his hand to cushion the edges of the counters when you bend down to find something, or why he chooses to do the stirring and frying while you slice, then he pretends it is merely coincidence.

san never strays far away from the kitchen whenever you and wooyoung are cooking. you have noticed that they do not really ever stray apart–none of the boys do, though. wooyoung talks as you and san listen and the latter does not stop smiling as he watches wooyoung multitask. what you do not realise is the countless times you have forgotten to keep cooking because you are watching him too with the same expression that san wears.

(the rest of the boys realise and they also see the way san and wooyoung will pause to gaze at you.)

when you two have mostly finished cooking and it is simply a matter of waiting for the sauce to simmer or the soup to boil, you find that wooyoung will take his seat next to san on the barstools at the island, knees and thighs touching as he continues the conversation. you gravitate towards them the first time before catching yourself, cautious that you may be intruding, but then san gives you a dimpled smile and beckons for you to come and sit by his other side.

san likes to keep a gentle hand resting on wooyoung’s knee as he talks. when he does the same thing to you without even looking, your lungs stop working for a minute. the only thought that consumes your mind is the warm sensation of san’s thumb soothingly running back and forth across your skin. you do not want him to stop, so you stay still in hopes that he continues. you are pretty sure san does not even consciously realise he is doing it.

(san does, and he is glad you do not move away.)

in the hours after dinner and before you all head off to sleep, you pile the thick blankets into the open living room and squish yourselves on the least number of couches as possible. again, space holds no meaning when you are with the boys and you find the press of yeosang and hongjoong’s skin against your own more natural there than not.

sometimes you watch movies together, other times talking with low voices as the hours tick by, and other times where you are all doing your own things but in the presence of one another. regardless, the nine of you stay cuddled in front of the fireplace with the warm glow of the fire and the light dreamy flutter of snow outside the windows.

yeosang tenderly tucks the blankets up around mingi’s shoulders when he falls asleep before turning to you on his other side. “are you warm enough?” he softly asks. and even though you say you are, he still tucks the edges of your blanket under your chin, nestling you safely within the blanket, hongjoong’s side and his own body.

the boys are naturally affectionate with one another and seeing the close dynamic of their…friendship so intimately in the environment of the retreat reminds you once more of the possibility that their relationship may run deeper than they let on.

(but when that affection extends to you, you wonder what exactly that may mean for your own relationship with the boys.)

and so living together, even if just for a holiday, is different. it is different when they are the first sight to greet you when you wake up, rubbing the sleep out of their eyes and voice still husky from fatigue as they murmur good mornings to you, and your cheeks start to glow with rosiness.

it is different when the decisions you make together are not about a change in formation or a defensive power play, but what to make for dinner and what movie you want to watch afterwards, and it makes you begin to wonder what other mundane decisions you want to make with them. it is different when they wrap you in their embrace–eight consecutive hugs–to bid you goodnight, and it takes you longer to fall asleep because you toss restlessly in your bed as their smiles replay in your head.

being on the retreat together is strangely domestic and homelike. but it has been almost nine months since you have started coaching the boys and thus seeing them every day for countless hours on end. so really, this trip should not change anything.

and yet, it feels like everything is changing.

jongho pays no mind to the conversation that is happening around him. last he heard, half of you are wanting to go out to skate on the lake before the sun sets and the other half are wanting to finish the halli galli championship you had started the night prior.

he is happy to do either but his mind is distracted by something else. as the screen of his phone lights up, jongho’s eyes flicker down and he puts his hand over the glowing display before anybody can see the caller id. you glance at him when you catch the movement in the corner of your peripheral vision, only to look away when yunho calls out your name to see which of the two options you would prefer.

the screen goes black as the call goes unanswered. seconds later, it lights up briefly with a notification.

pick up.

then the caller id shows up again. jongho grabs his phone and mumbles to nobody in particular, “going to grab something from my room.”

closing the door to the room that he is sharing with hongjoong in the pension, jongho sits down heavily on the edge of his bed, phone clutched tightly in his hand. whilst he has no qualms ignoring their messages now, he still finds it difficult to do the same to their phone calls. he finds his resolve weakening as he watches his phone ring for the third time within minutes.

so jongho picks up. “mother,” he greets stiffly.

she scoffs scathingly, “you finally decided to pick up.”

“i’ve been busy with the playoffs.” a half lie.

“busy? busy losing, you mean,” his mother ridicules. jongho is taken aback by the fact that she is aware, since he did not tell his family. it makes sense when she berates, “do you know how embarrassing it was for me to find out from your aunt? she told me to congratulate you for making it into the semifinals–the semifinals, jongho.”

he feels a heat of shame at what she is insinuating. jongho defends, “that’s still the top four out of seventy six teams.”

“nobody cares,” she turns her nose up. “it does not matter if you came fourth, second or last–unless you win first place, the result is not worth anything. our entire family has a legacy of achievements and your younger brother even has an olympic gold medal now. but what have you done? this is a mere national competition and yet you are incapable of making it into the finals.”

“jong–” his name dies on the tip of your tongue and your hand stops before you can knock on the door when you hear jongho’s muffled voice.

the boys had finally decided to grab their skates so you had come to get jongho to join everybody outside. realising he is talking to somebody, you are about to turn away and give him some privacy, but the words you hear make you freeze. 

it is not the conversation itself that you overhear; it is the wounded tone of jongho’s voice that makes it impossible for you to walk away. your feet stay rooted to the spot, in fact, wanting to enter the room. you have not heard jongho in such great affliction before, not even when he was consoling the boys with tears in his own eyes after their crushing defeat in the playoffs. 

“when are you going to celebrate my achievements for what they are, instead of telling me to do better?” jongho appeals.

he has lived his entire life being told that he is not good enough–constantly compared to the accomplishments of his family, particularly those of his younger brother. what he does not understand is why he cannot just be recognised for the athlete that he is, void of any other person.

his mother is silent and for a brief moment, jongho thinks that she may finally see some sense in his words…only for her to unfeelingly state, “when they are worth celebrating.” with a simple, “do better,” she hangs up on him.

jongho’s hand falls limply into his lap, phone slipping out of his lax fingers with a dull thud to the ground. he wants to swear. he wants to cry. he wants to throw his phone against the wall until the screen shatters. but jongho simply leans forward, elbows on his knees and head in his hands, the crushing weight of dejection forcing his lungs to exhale shakily.

there is a faint, timid knock on the door. he knows who it is immediately–only one person would knock so softly. “come in,” he answers listlessly, because he could never bring himself to ignore you no matter his own feelings.

the door cracks open to reveal your tentative figure and you slip through the opening. from the way your lips are pulled down, eyes rounded with concern, jongho knows that you have connected enough dots to understand the context of the phone call.

you approach the bed and try to ignore how small the boy in front of you looks with his shoulders hunched inwards on themselves. jongho has always appeared as the most collected and composed, even more so than the captain, and it makes your chest tight to realise he has simply been hiding this whole time.

jongho is not a man of many words so you do the next best thing that feels right in the moment. you simply open your arms. when his hands slowly come up in silent acceptance, you step forward to engulf him in your embrace.

he presses his face into the soft warmth of your stomach. the darkness welcomes him with safety and comfort and he lets out a stuttering breath that racks his entire body. you wrap one arm around his shoulders and cradle the back of his head with your other, your fingers tenderly caressing his hair in soothing motions.

although silence is what he needs, you allow yourself to say one thing to him. you murmur, “i’m proud of you, jongho…so, so proud of you.”

and they are the words he has been wanting to hear his entire life. unable to keep it together any longer, jongho breaks down in your arms with tearful sobs and allows himself to grieve for the acknowledgement he has yearned his entire life and never received. however, it will only be for tonight because he has realised that it is futile to chase after recognition from a person who refuses to see his worth, even if that person is his own family.

there will always be other people who can see his actual worth; the same people who will still love him even if he does not have a gold trophy to call his. for him, those people are his seven boys and you.

so he stays in your arms with you wrapped around him, time lost to the two of you. he cries until he has no tears left and you tilt your head upwards to stop the flow of your own tears before they can drip down onto the crown of his head. and outside the bedroom, hongjoong quietly eases the door shut to give you both some privacy.

you do not know how much time has passed when you finally step out. jongho has fallen asleep after you tucked him under his covers, exhausted. heading towards your room to change out of your shirt, you are startled by the sight of hongjoong lingering near the door.

“you didn’t go out with the boys?

he shakes his head, then conscious of where you two are standing, he gestures inside your room and follows you in. “is jongho okay?” hongjoong asks.

“i think so…he’s sleeping now but probably just needs a bit more time,” you sigh, “i just wish i could do more for him.”

hongjoong reassures, “you are already doing so much more than you realise.”

for jongho. for wooyoung. for all of them. comfort has never been about the words or actions, but the person who is by their side, and for the boys, having you there is already enough.

“really?” you worry.

“yes, really.”

before he realises what he is doing, hongjoong reaches out to gingerly cup the side of your face to thumb away the worry in your brows. “y/n, you take care of us all the time…but who takes care of you?” he whispers.

“i’m your coach, of course i–”

“no,” he interrupts. “you aren’t just our coach and from what i have seen, you aren’t just our friend either. unless…” hongjoong hesitates, “unless i’ve been reading everything wrong, then in which case, tell me and i’ll move away.”

you do not reply. your eyes flicker back and forth between his, your heart racing and mind blank. it is true–they are not just your players and they are not just your friends either, but you are unsure about taking such a huge leap of faith and acting upon the feelings you have only just started to understand.

hongjoong takes your silence as encouragement to step even closer until he is right in front of you. he keeps his hand on your cheek, his other coming up to delicately cradle your waist. you are standing intimately enough for his warm breath to span across your cheeks as he tenderly pleads, “let us take care of you as more than what we are right now.

“if you do not want to put a label on it then that’s fine, we won’t. we’ll still be your team and you’ll still be our coach. but please, let us take care of you when you are hurt, when you’re upset or angry, and when you are happy, too. let us love you as one of ours.”

as one of theirs.

you swallow and confirm, “are you all together?”

“yes, we’re dating each other,” hongjoong nods.

“but then why…” your voice trials off. why me, too?

hongjoong taps the tip of your nose and jokes lightly, “is there a capped limit as to how many people we are allowed to love?”

it pulls a giggle out of you and he smiles fondly as he reiterates, “we don’t need to put a label on this and we can go entirely at your pace. just let us into your heart, please?”

for a moment you wonder what will happen to your professional relationship with the boys–what will happen if things do not work out or worse, if other people find out and report you all for it. but when you really think about it, you realise that the professionalism between you and the boys has long since blurred. 

you do not know if you can go back to seoul after this retreat and act like you do not want to continue living with them. most importantly, you do not want to know if you can. so you take the leap of faith and nod–you want to be theirs.

when you first met the red devils in autumn last year, you were resolved to win over them. never would you have expected that you would win them over in more ways than one…and be won over yourself.

“hi, girlfriend.”

seonghwa smacks the back of wooyoung’s head. “stop pressuring her,” he hisses as the younger cackles delightfully and strides away through the snow impressively fast considering he is wearing his skates.

“ignore him,” seonghwa turns to you, where you are sitting on the porch steps to the cottage. he squats down and takes the laces out of your hands to start doing up your own skates.

“i can do it myself,” you start.

“i know you can,” seonghwa hums, gazing up lovingly, “but i want to do it for you.”

you press your lips together in an attempt to hide the shy smile that blooms across your face and when that fails, you duck your head down instead. ever since your talk with hongjoong the other day, the boys have been significantly more obvious and proactive with their displays of affection for you. however, you are pretty sure they had their own conversation when you were asleep or in the shower, because not one of them pressures you into something you are not ready for, even if that includes making your relationship official.

“there you go. is it too tight? too loose?” seonghwa taps your skates and you tell him they are perfect. taking his offered hand with an appreciative smile, he pulls you up to your feet and you go to join the rest of the boys on the frozen lake.

you are sure it feels the same for every single one of your boys–nothing can compare to that moment when you first step onto the ice. it is where you become a completely different person; a fish back in water, in control and at home.

it had been a gamble renting the cottage pension as you were unable to know whether the lake would be frozen over enough to allow for skating. but it is as if the heavens know not to separate you and your boys from the love and passion that your entire lives revolve around, because you are blessed to see them scrambling out to play on the frozen lake almost every single day, just like they are right now.

san spots you and seonghwa and beckons for you two to join. “hongjoong’s the tagger,” he calls out.

the captain stands at the other end of the lake, back facing everybody as he drawls, “green light…”

before hongjoong even starts to enunciate the first word, yunho, wooyoung and jongho have already pushed off their skates to advance. it sets off an immediate chorus of indignant shouts and desperate acceleration amongst everybody else to catch up. you laugh and seonghwa drags you along with him urgently, unable to stand your apparent nonchalance and uncompetitiveness.

but oh, how wrong he is. very quickly, you join the majority of the boys in a game of who can be the most sneaky with dirty play. wooyoung and mingi tussle with one another right as hongjoong turns around with his yell of ‘red light!’, trying to topple the other over so they get caught. jongho yanks on the back of seonghwa’s jacket whilst yeosang giggles and joins in to yank on jongho’s, effectively preventing all three of them from advancing forward.

“let go of me, you brats!” seonghwa flails forward against the combined weight of the two boys but to no avail.

you use yunho’s height to your advantage and hide behind him, steadily creeping forward even when hongjoong has turned around to face you all. yunho quickly catches on and extends his hands backwards for you to latch onto. you are more than happy to let him do all the hard work skating you both towards the captain and you grin cheekily at the trio–still caught up in their self-induced tug-of-war–as you overtake them easily.

“y/n’s cheating!” san hollers, the only one who is actually playing by the rules.

“life’s not fair!” you holler back gleefully at the same time that hongjoong sniggers, “san, you moved your mouth! go back.”

san gives an indignant cry, “favouritism, i say!” but, bless his heart, moves back to the starting line regardless. 

when yunho is almost towering over hongjoong, he cues you to get ready to escape by letting go of your hands. you pivot around and without waiting for anything else, you start to run away.

“gree–”

yunho tags hongjoong’s right shoulder before pushing off to the left so that he escapes the other’s immediate line of vision. except it means that the first person that hongjoong sees when he turns around is you.

an involuntary squeal escapes you when you hear the terrifying crispness of skates on ice right behind you followed by the captain’s arms snaking around your waist. “caught you, babe” he beams. hongjoong lifts you up with shit-eating smugness at your reaction–both at his close proximity and the pet name–spins you around for good measure, then sets you back down to chase after the others.

wooyoung skates in a wide arc to dodge the captain’s frenzied rampage, only to suddenly appear right beside you with the most telling glint in his sparkling eyes that he is up to mischief. he grins.

“wooyoung, no,” you warn.

he grabs you by the waist. “wooyoung, yes.”

wooyoung pushes off his skates with you in front of him at breakneck speed across the ice, bellowing at the top of his voice, “make way for the cripples!”

you scream the entire way to the end of the lake, hands clutching onto his like a lifeline as a colourful string of words flies out of your mouth. you think you black out for a second because when you open your eyes again, you are in a heaving tangle of arms and legs on the cushiony surface of powdery snow.

“oh, shit,” hongjoong winces.

the boys speed towards you and wooyoung, and yunho peers down at you on the ground with panicked concern in his eyes. “are you two okay?” he asks but when he sees that you are laughing, unrestrained and radiating joy, yunho relaxes and joins in with relief.

they–mainly seonghwa–fuss over you both enough to reassure themselves that there is not so much as a scratch or bruise, before mingi suggests playing a casual hockey game of five versus four. there are to be no goaltenders and san fashions makeshift goalposts by poking sticks into the snow on either ends of the lake.

the team splits into their usual arrangement when they are required to be in two groups; hongjoong, yunho, san and wooyoung; seonghwa, yeosang, mingi and jongho. normally, you would offer to be the honorary referee…but the boys have never been rough with you and you have confidence that you will not get hurt. so for the first time in years, you play.

it is far from a proper league game and it will never be enough to quench your thirst as a former athlete, but for now, gripping your stick on the ice in tandem with the others, you are content–you are alive.

like red light, green light, the game starts off fair and proper for a grand total of two minutes. then it becomes a circus of foul plays and increasingly creative methods of cheating as all sense of order is tossed out the window. yunho and san stand in front of you, leaving just enough space for you to handle the puck, whilst hongjoong and wooyoung flank your sides and use their sticks to block any attempts to steal the puck. as a shielded group of five, you all move up towards the goalposts like a formidable army tank.

in retaliation, jongho physically manhandles hongjoong out of the way, hugging him from behind with a vice grip that he swears not to let go. seonghwa, mingi and yeosang imitate him with similar displays of strength, turning the entire match into a childish scuffle of chaos and hysterics.

there are no proper rules, no proper gear and no proper stadium–only the bare minimum, yourselves and uncontainable laughter. it feels like you are kids again, little souls harbouring colossal dreams, running around on the fields with long branches and a pine cone you had found when you could not afford to go to a real rink.

it is like you have gone back in time to when all you knew about ice hockey from watching it on your television screen was that you had to get the puck into the goal. you and the boys are fresh, blank slates without a care in the world for the countless strategies and tactical plays that you have learned over the length of your careers.

without the pressures and routines of strict training regimes, you all reignite the very roots of your ardour and fervour for ice hockey. no longer is it about the scores and making it into the playoffs. no longer is it about winning the championships to gain the acknowledgement of other people. no longer is it about the trauma of betrayal, injury and defeat you have experienced.

playing is simply the thrill of skating liberally with no burdens across the ice. it is the feeling of thriving when your blade connects with the puck and sends vibrations up your arms. it is the rush of adrenaline as everyone moves in tandem with the same singular thought in your hearts–that you love ice hockey with your entire lives. and that in itself is already more than enough, even without a gold trophy and championship title to prove it to yourselves.

for the last five years, the boys have had the leaves of their trees forcibly plucked and removed–by family, by coaches, and by injuries…but now?

it is time for their flowers to bloom.

spring, 2025: playoffs

standing off to the side, you watch your boys listening attentively to the reporter who is conducting an interview with them. you have continued to stay out of the media spotlight where possible, not yet entirely comfortable standing in front of the cameras again, but your boys have quickly grown accustomed to media coverage ever since their popularity gained traction thanks to their undefeated streak in the regular season.

the interviewer glances down at her prompt card before asking, “so tell me, what has been a major contribution to your success this season? your team has made a name for yourselves as the undefeated champions so far–quite a contrast to how you started off last season.”

seonghwa laughs cordially with her. “we were getting used to a lot of changes last year so our teamwork and mentality wasn’t the best,” he admits. “our agency gave us some time off to recalibrate, which really helped us to focus on building ourselves–as individuals and as a team. i think we learnt to place our unconditional trust in one another and our coach. we still play with a dominantly offensive approach, but we’ve been adopting different playing styles and experimenting with them, so this relies heavily on believing in each other.”

yunho nods, gesturing for the microphone to add, “as cliche as it may sound, a huge part of our growth was also learning how to accept loss. this wasn’t just in the context of being defeated in the semifinals but in the wider lens of our past mistakes, relationships, and even situations that we could not change.

“it has been a tough journey for a lot of us over the last year, but we were lucky enough to have each other’s support,” yunho’s nostalgic smile reflects your own as you realise just how far both you and all of your boys have come. “once we were able to let go, it meant that we could enjoy our career for what it truly is–playing the sport of our dreams together, every day.”

the reporter’s ears perk up in interest at the segway to probe and she jumps on the opportunity to ask, “i am sure many of your fans have been curious for a long time. is there a special somebody who has supported you–or any of you–throughout your journey?”

yunho passes the microphone to the hand that has extended out to reach for it. it’s san this time, who has a charmingly confident persona that he takes on whenever he answers questions during interviews. good thing too, because their fans are going to need something to distract them from understanding the confession he is about to make.

“there is. we all do, actually,” his deep voice rolls off his tongue like butter. the way he smoothly talks with a flirtatious smirk never fails to make you swoon. “funnily enough, we all met our girlfriend at about the same time.”

off to the side, wooyoung sends a wink in your direction and you have to muffle a snort with your hand and divert your glance away. the structural framework of the stadium ceiling suddenly looks very interesting. san stands there incredibly smug at his joke that he knows nobody but you and the boys will pick up on.

by the time you tune back into the conversation, the reporter has moved onto the next question. “last year, you lost to the white tigers in the semifinals. how do you feel about facing them again later today?”

due to a spike in popularity, the korean ice hockey league had to divide its teams into two separate groups for the regular season matches this year. both the red devils and the white tigers had been placed in different groups and by some twist of fate, had ranked at the top and then seeded accordingly on either ends of the tournament brackets. now, your team faces theirs in the very last game of the season.

the finals.

“we’re quite excited, actually,” jongho responds. “we have been wanting to play against the white tigers again some day and i don’t think it gets any more fitting than meeting them in the finals. they have some incredible players but like seonghwa mentioned before, we’ve been working hard to adjust our playing style to suit the situation. our coach has put in a lot of effort to hone in on our strengths and weaknesses, so no matter what today’s outcome is, we’re confident that it won’t be an easy win for either team.”

“i am sure the finals is going to be a thrilling match. now, speaking of coaches,” the interviewer starts and you can see hongjoong’s hand twitching subtly at his side, ready to step in and deflect the question need be should it pertain to you.

she continues, “how does it feel to play against your former coach?”

yeosang and mingi frown, unable to neutralise the confusion on their faces. hongjoong smiles calmly, ultimately taking over the microphone as he apologises, “sorry, could you please elaborate your question?”

it is the interviewer’s turn to fluster slightly but she nods quickly, “you must not be aware, then.”

your eyes dart back and forth as you try to recall whether there is a crucial piece of information you have somehow missed or forgotten to tell the boys. the tone of her voice foreshadows something that makes the pit of your stomach churn.

“last year, the white tigers had a stand-in coach, so you probably did not know.” she says her next words carefully and despite the bustling movement that fills the entire stadium, you can hear the exact moment all of your hearts drop.

“the coach of the white tigers is coach yeon, your team’s former coach in 2018…and he’s here today.”

you are the first to rush back into their locker room. frantically, you grab the official guide that had been given to you by the ice hockey league prior to the start of the regular season from out of your bag. you flip through it, team profiles upon team profiles blending into a hazy blur of faces as you find the one you are trying to look for.

“y/n,” somebody gently murmurs from behind you but you do not register their call. you continue to flick through the pages and when you find the profile for the white tigers, you scan the top of the page for a certain name with a shaky finger.

head coach: yeon ha joon

“oh my god,” you breathe out, hands lowering to your sides and gaze wavering. how the fuck had you managed to miss it this entire time?

you are not the only one affected by the revelation. the change room is pervaded by unease and restlessness, and wooyoung paces back and forth despite hongjoong’s attempts to get him to sit down. hongjoong himself cannot even remember how he answered the question about coach yeon, only that he had somehow excused themselves not long after to cut the interview short.

“how is he still a coach?” seonghwa furrows his brows.

wooyoung stops pacing and your eyes are drawn to him when he suddenly blanches, “what if coach yeon is doing the opposite now and paying other teams to let his own team win?”

“no way–” “–i wouldn’t put it past him–” “–surely not?” the boys’ voices overlap at the speculation.

it is a valid speculation based on what they have told you in the past about coach yeon. however, you stay quiet, suddenly aware of the fact that it is not something that would favour you should it be true. you gnaw the inside of your cheek because as much as you know that your boys would not suspect you, you still worry that doubt may cross their minds at one point, even if only briefly.

“unless the money he offered every single time was equivalent to the prize money, it’s highly unlikely the teams would have all accepted, right?” jongho points out.

yunho shrugs nonchalantly, “but even if they did, we all know that coach yeon would never be able to bribe our girl.”

the way everybody immediately agrees expels some of the anxiety within you, filling you with reassurance and security that starts to relax your chest instead. wooyoung chooses that moment to finally sit down on the bench beside you. he adds, “we’re too whipped for you, so even if you were bribed, we would probably ask whether the money was enough and if you wanted more.”

san chucks a water bottle at him. despite yourself, you laugh and admit, “that is…strangely comforting.”

“see,” wooyoung triumphantly boots the bottle back at the older. “she gets it.”

seonghwa intercepts the pitiful bottle before it becomes weaponised and sets it down next to him. “she wouldn’t accept the money in the first place.”

“exactly, so why does any of this matter?” mingi suddenly questions.

yeosang knits his brows together as he states the obvious, “it’s coach yeon.”

“and?” mingi mirrors his expression with genuine confusion.

it is quiet in the locker room. the coach of the white tigers is indeed coach yeon…and so what? what exactly about the revelation has pushed you all to the edge of the cliff?

mingi cocks his head. “what i’m trying to say is, does it make any difference whether he is their coach or not? think about it–regardless of how he got his team to the finals, he has no unfair advantage over us. there’s no way that he has bribed a fixed win in the finals, and he has no access to any insider knowledge that could jeopardise our tactics and plays.

“the only leverage that he ‘has’ is a psychological advantage–if we can even call it that. but we’re not the same boys who were too naive and powerless to do anything about it six years ago. if anything, we can easily turn this to work in our favour because i don’t know about you guys, but i’m ready to drag his ass through the mud. what we said earlier about not caring for today’s outcome? nah, fuck that. we’re going to fuck him up and show him that he messed with the wrong people.”

he takes everybody’s silence as misunderstanding of his last statement and he hurriedly clarifies there is no violent intent, “by winning. fairly.”

“damn,” jongho whistles. “you’re onto something for once.”

mingi clambers over seonghwa’s legs to grab the forgotten bottle and it goes flying across the room with violent intent. “dude, what the fuck,” mingi grouses.

the dull thud that resounds when jongho holds san’s leg pad up to block the projectile is enough to shift the mood in the room entirely. you finally relax into hongjoong’s side and he moulds you closer to him with the arm that he snakes around your waist as you both watch the locker room erupt into familiar pre-game mayhem.

yunho immediately scoops up the bottle and pitches it again. san stands to the side worrying over his poor leg pads as jongho uses them to bat the makeshift ball. his impressive accuracy makes you wonder whether they would have made it just as big as they are now had they formed a baseball team instead, but then yeosang narrowly dodges the bottle before it gives him a black eye, wooyoung cackles in the background, and you think better of it.

seonghwa joins you both on the bench and amongst all of the mischievous chaos and raucous laughter, you feel at peace, your hands clasped tenderly in the hands of your two captains–in unity, trust and love. you affectionately squeeze their hands with unspoken conviction.

you know your boys are going to play well; you just have a good feeling.

the energy in the room spikes exponentially as you huddle together one final time before you walk out of the locker room, through the hallways and to the arena–one final time before you step out to the ice rink as the red devils, playing in the final match.

you and your boys stand in a circle as close as it is physically possible with their bulky pads and game jerseys that they wear so proudly. it is indiscernible where one of you starts and where another ends from how intimately you all press together. your huddle is a woven nexus of arms and your hearts pound as one entity.

everyone learns of the juxtapositions of the world early on in life. there is no light without dark, there is no happiness without sadness, there is no spring without autumn…and there is no victory without defeat. not a single one of your boys has made it this far without falling at least once, and the conscious thought makes your heart swell and your throat constrict with overwhelming emotion.

somehow, you manage to choke out, “i am so, so proud of all of you.”

yunho and seonghwa’s own eyes start to heat up with wetness. from your side, san kisses your temple with feather-like tenderness, “and we’re so proud of you. y/n, you have grown just as much as we have.”

“thank you for being our coach,” hongjoong murmurs into your ear from your other side, the tip of his nose softly nuzzling you.

wooyoung reaches out to thumb the round of your cheek, “and thank you for loving us when we found it difficult to love ourselves.”

you had always viewed your injury and career with anger, bitterness and anguish…but you have finally come to terms with it. in the process of healing, you have learnt to love yourself, love eight other people, and to be loved. you have had your golden days as an athlete and you are now living your golden days as a coach–

–the very coach of the red devils, your team of boys who are living through their golden days as athletes, and you are going to lead them to victory in the finals.

swiping at a tear that slips down your cheeks, you grin. “boys, let’s win this match and then,” you pause as you meet their determined gazes, their smiles wide with uncontainable excitement, the tension in the room electrifying and palpable.

“let’s go international.”

you may have all fallen before–as athletes, as coaches, as a team–but you will always stand back up together, because at the end of the day your dream is theirs and their dream is yours. and like autumn, the leaves fall for a reason; they must fall before the spring flowers can bloom to their full beauty.

and bloom your flowers have.

[lizacstuff]

Hi! Your thoughts on the epi? How emotional was the ending? I also loved that the stories came full circle (Apollo and the little prince). With how much they were discussing the strawberry allergy, I knew it was a matter of time before an allergic reaction emergency would occur. Serkan is not perfect but honestly who's parents are? I'm glad he got the reassurance he needed from both Eda and Kiraz. I'm also glad the truth about Aydan and Kemal's five year relationship is out to Serkan.

My apologies in taking so long to answer this, but LOVE, LOVE, LOVE. For me, this was a very gentle, but very enjoyable episode of television. I think you'd have to go back to season one episodes 4,5,6 to find three episodes in a row that were as good as 43, 44, 45 (coincidentally episode 4,5,6 of the 2nd season). How delightful that cliffhangers in season 2 are emotional plot points for our dynamic duo, instead of the nonsense like falling off of boats or getting caught by a gunman while playing detective, or non-stop, third-party psycho trauma like we endured during 29-38.

The ending was very emotional! As you say, it was always a matter of time before the strawberry allergy played a role, they've mentioned it too many times this season for it not too. Here it played two roles, first putting Kiraz's life in danger thus cementing their burgeoning family unit AND being the genetic tie between three previously hidden generations. Potent stuff.

I was thrilled by all the domestic Edser in this episode. Outdoors, kitchen, living room, bedroom, kid's room, we got it all! I just loved the family time, and the sexual tension and the way they grew closer throughout the episode. I saw some criticism that they made no progress in this episode, but I disagree with that. Just because they didn't make out or have sex, doesn't mean they didn't progress. In this episode they went from being on opposite sides of a custody battle to agreeing to buy a car together, travel together, work together, not to mention having a romantic dinner together.

So buckets of progress was made, however, more on that later, first the supporting characters...

(more under the cut)

What a relief to have both Eda and Serkan treating Aydan and Ayfer as the meddling interlopers they are! Serkan wordless, furious glares were delicious, seriously I don't know how AA had the courage to stay in the house with him looking at them like that, he couldn't have been less welcoming. And Eda actually questioning her aunt about why she was there was a surprise. Of course Ayfer continues to be super punchable. I really, really wanted to hit her right in the face when she gloated over Kiraz calling him Serkan Bolat. Seriously, bitch? You know that's your grandniece, right? And you know that she must have some issues about her dad being absent from her life (which you are partially responsible for) so the fact that you're gloating that a man who was prevented from knowing he had a daughter (again, partially your fault) and a girl who was prevented from having a father (again, you bear some blame) have an emotional barrier in their relationship is beyond shitty. What happened to her personally that made her such a cynical asshole?

Aydan on the other hand is still annoying but she has her own problems, lmao. I'm dying because early in the day the episode aired, I said to both @echoapothecary and @melly326 that it was a shame that the show had decided to waste the potential of Sinan's resemblance to Kerem. I have been hoping they would do the Serkan father storyline since the moment the character was introduced, but the day I give up hope for it is the day it happens! I legit had no expectations that there was even a chance it could still happen.

Personally I'm excited, It's nice that the writers gave Aydan some cover, she didn't lie, she simply didn't remember they had hot baby-making sex back when she was having problems with Alptekin. Imagine what might have happened had she remembered at the time. If Aydan had come clean and left Alptekin, Serkan never would have been sent away, Aydan would have had the support she needed when Alp died and Serkan would have grown up loved. I hope Alptekin suspected the truth, because it would go a long way in explaining why he was such a shit-stain to Serkan his whole life.

It was obvious what direction the story was going from the conversation between Kemal and Aydan when he told her they'd "you know'd" that night, but I still let out a squeal when he revealed his strawberry allergy. Three generations of aversion to frangeria. Google tells me that severe strawberry allergy is rare so this really is an obvious flag they've been waving in front of everyone.

The story also dovetails nicely with Serkan's own journey with surprise fatherhood. We know he hasn't taken to Kemal, has been suspicious of him, however hopefully his own experience being kept out of his daughter's life will make him sympathetic to his newly found father.

Engin and Piril... were there. I can't tell you how much I don't care about Engin's out-of-the blue catering business, or Piril's suspicions. However, I did enjoy the 3 way family phone call, once again Can comes through with the right bit of info for Kiraz, he's definitely the most useful member of that family.

Pina and Kerem were also... in the episode. I did giggle when Asst Kerem admitted he was stunned into silence by Serkan's charisma. Tell me about it.

As for Melo, she stole the show among the supporting characters. Her heartbreak was palpable, but WHYYYYYYY did she have to fall for such a no-personality sad sack? Seriously, even drunk that guy is boring. Also why is he lurking outside Eda's house like a creeper, staring in windows? What does it take to get through to him? Serkan and Eda are following a court order and living together, they are in the process of making their first lunch together, you, sir, are not needed at their home for their first meal as a family. GIVE THEM SOME SPACE!

I really don't get what Melo sees in him. However her crush gave us the funny scenes with the mug turning red and also the heartfelt friendship scene with Eda. It's about time Eda is shown taking an interest in her life, it was really lovely how Melo got over the awkwardness of telling her and Eda was supportive and kind. Also hopefully it made Eda aware of the problems associated with not drawing hard boundaries for someone she knows has feelings for her. Draw the boundary, Eda.

As for Eda, she was a bit softer this episode, you could see Serkan getting to her. One of my favorite things about the episode was how Serkan was subtly planning their life together as a family, and Eda being swept away with the tide and going along with it. (gif set here) Family car? check. Family trip to Italy? Check. Sharing an office and working together at Art Life again? Check. Answering questions and giving preferences about one specific house Serkan is designing? Check.

This is significant because no matter that Eda still (understandably) needs time to forgive Serkan and to trust him with her (and Kiraz's) heart again, deep down she knows it's inevitable. She knows they're inevitable. There's no reason to seriously fight the inroads he's making into their life, because she knows he's going to succeed. In the deep recesses of her mind, she knows she's going to forgive him, and that they're going to be together, not just as co-parents to Kiraz, but as a very much in-love couple. However, she still needs a little time to get there. And that's okay. You don't erase five years of loneliness and heartbreak in a few days, nor should you try to. There's no reason for her to rush to let him back in her bed or into her heart, there's time for her to heal and for him to prove she can trust that he won't leave her again, even for noble reasons.

The bet was a clever way to extend their time living together. And I liked the detail that she was secretly so pleased to have him there, and still so attracted to him, but she knew she couldn't let him know because then it would be game over. He'd settle in and never leave. Not that I think she wants him to leave, she doesn't and that's what scares her. She clearly wants him, and wants him there, she got melty every time she looked at him with Kiraz, but she can hardly be blamed for needing to take it slow. That being said, while putting Kiraz to bed, I loved how Eda's plan to put Serkan on the hot seat completely backfired on her. Hee hee. She decided to tell Kiraz that they're being honest and to ask whatever she wants (that could have gone really wrong, by the way, if she asked if Daddy had really been in space) but daddy's-girl Kiraz immediately turns it back on Eda and wants to know if she loves Serkan Bolat and then sets them up in the same room. Good girl, Kiraz!

I immensely enjoyed the tension of Eda and Serkan sharing a room and sparring about which side they have to sleep on and OF COURSE they can only sleep facing one another. And OF COURSE Serkan migrated to the bed in the middle of the night. Funny how these two keep waking up all wrapped up in one another, almost like... they not only gravitate to one another, they also calm and comfort one another.

Once again, every scene between Edser and Kiraz was gold. I can't say enough how tiresome I usually find children on screen, but here I'm just delighted by her precociousness. Even her making a giant mess in the kitchen was endearing. As I said, I loved how much domestic Edser we got this episode. Them running around the kitchen with their daughter, having a flour fight? Pure delight. And I swear Maya Basol looks more like a mixture of Hande and Kerem than their own child would. It's simply uncanny.

Beyond their domestic scenes, it was lovely to see them both just falling back into a spot where their lives were intertwined. Loved Serkan driving her to work at the hotel, and then driving her home again when she quit. Not to mention how supportive he was, I'm not sure how she didn't either jump him right then and there or start crying in relief, when he was telling her she has the talent to be doing bigger more prestigious jobs and now that he was here to help she could do it. Eda's had support in raising Kiraz from Ayfer and Melo, but they really don't understand her career. Serkan understands. He is the life partner she's been missing.

Eda and Serkan seem to be on the same page as far as their families interference, being annoyed at both Ayfer and Aydan, I'm glad to see neither trying to defend mother/aunt to the other. Eda also seemed annoyed by Serkan moving his office to her house for the day, and she made several inferences, as she's been doing, about him putting work first. This is completely understandable, IMO. He left her on their wedding day for work, and he used "work is the most important thing to me" as the reason both times he broke her heart. Yes, after the fact, she found out that there were other, much bigger reasons and work was just the excuse, however that doesn't erase her deep-seated, pavlovian-like response she has to him seeming to prioritize work. She lived five years, raising their child alone, thinking he loved work more than her. It's completely natural that she's holding onto that for a bit. And it's okay if he needs to prove to her that he can prioritize her and Kiraz over work before she lets it go completely. I get it.

As I said, I enjoyed Serkan trying to trap her with the mood mug, that's the kind of gentle friction and comedy I'm here for. Of course he does catch her later on the phone admitting that she loves that he's there and it's game, set, match. For Serkan. I think we're all glad he won that bet. However, him removing his bed on the floor was a bold move and he pretty much deserved her locking him out after he did it. I read a lot ridiculous discourse on this, and my response is: you're taking this show too seriously again. This is a romcom move, it was done for comedy, and I promise you Serkan is able to fend for himself. If he didn't want to be kicked out, he shouldn't have tried to force his way into her bed again. Waaaaay presumptuous, man.

Buuuuut... how did Serkan get off the balcony? I don't know, but as I said he can fend for himself. Dude probably spent the night on the living room couch. Serkan's sneezing was cute, but being cold doesn't give you a cold. Maybe it's an allergy from too much time outdoors, lol. LOVED Serkan smoothly convincing Eda to come back to the office. If he'd approached that directly, it might have been a weeks long endeavor to get her to make ArtLife her office, but Serkan building the play school was genius! He never wastes time, that guy. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't, but this was impressive.

It warmed my heart how they fell so easily into working side by side. Casual conversations about what they were working on, and, you know, randomly deciding to go on a family trip to Italy with your estranged lover, as you do. Which all led to one of my favorite scenes... dinner! They got back to honest, open communication and it was lovely. Thankfully, Eda stopped letting him think she was running off to spend time with Burak and I adored Serkan coming clean and allowing himself to be vulnerable in admitting that he'd made the dinner for them and that he'd been upset when she didn't show. That's how you make progress. Just beautiful.

As for the "we need to all tell the truth" scene, that was silly, but if it gave us Aydan's secret being revealed I'm a-okay with it. About time! Buba was once again annoying and it was cathartic for Serkan to be able to tell him he doesn't like him. Same, Serkan. Seriously, can he and Ayfer fall in love and move to the country to run an Alpaca farm or something? The hospital scene was very poignant, I wrote more about it here. Now what I need is for Eda and Serkan to walk out of that hospital room and, out of relief, fall into the tightest hug. Crossing fingers!

[madllamamomma]

The Visitor~ Part 4

Rhemi x Muriel fanfic. [Warning: the following contains graphic language and mentions blood.]

Part 4~

Père~

Nearly fully sprinting at this point, Rhemi tries her best to make it on time to the palace gates to meet her father. The time really got away from her this morning, despite her waking up before the crack of dawn. Luckily, it’s not raining today, the sky is nice and clear and there’s even a light breeze, but it’s still rather chilly. At least the sun is there to keep her warm today, a good day for walking around.

As she hurries through the busy streets inching closer and closer to the palace, she can’t help but feel so nervous, yet rather excited at the same time. An entire morning with her father! Oh how excited she was to have someone else to talk to about advance spells, incantations, and all other sorts of magic! Her friends were always there to talk to her, but she doesn’t remember having someone this groomed and experienced before.

Not to mention, she couldn’t wait to show him around the city that she is so proud of and loved. Countess Nadia, Consul Valerius, Portia (who is now a chamberlain) and the citizens have been so busy building and improving the city in the last year. Where there were once slums, sinking, underwater neighborhoods, or rough and sketchy places are now where new homes, restaurants, and shops are thriving. Vesuvia has honestly never been better. It seems like everyday Nadia and the citizens have been improving it more and more each and every day.

Turning the final corner to the central part of the city reveals the palace and all its marvelous splendor. Rhemi can feel her heart fluttering in her chest as she sees Martin just exiting the gates by two guards. Dressed in fancy foreign clothes like the day before but different colors and the same silk blue cape and jeweled cane… Except there was no hat on his head, and no badger draped across his shoulders. Martin peers down at his pocket watch with a sore expression, before he notices his daughter jogging towards him. A bright smile takes over his lips, that icy exterior partially melts away yet again.

Nearly out of breath, slowing down her stride as she prances towards him giddily. “Good morning!” She huffs with a tired grin and a little sweat on her brow.

“Well, good morning to you too, Rhemielia.” Martin replies, blindly putting away his pocket watch. “Running a wee bit behind are we?”

With a nervous smile, she scratches the back of her head. “Sorry, I was practicing a new spell. Lost track of time—You know how it is…. I-I hope? Or maybe it’s just me.”

Thinking he’d be interested, and ask what kind of spell she’s working on, she prepares herself to gush about it. But instead, he offers her arm not seeming to have really listened to what she had just said. “Mmm—Shall we?”

Rhemi shakes herself out of her mindset, her grin wide, happily taking his arm. “Oh—We shall.” There are plenty of other things to talk about other than magic.

As soon as the two start walking down the street an awkward dead quiet suddenly takes over. Never has silence been so loud, even when Rhemi started getting to know Muriel, it wouldn’t feel this awkward. After a couple of minutes, it becomes unbearable for both of them as they continue to walk aimlessly down the street.

“...So—”

“Did you—”

Both of them try to break the silence at the same time. But as soon as the other one started to speak, they hushed up quickly again thinking one of them would continue.

“... My apolo—”

“... Sorry—”

Blush starts to take over both of their cheekbones as they both fumble terribly for a proper foot hole to start a conversation.

“After you—”

“Go aheaaa—Ahhhhh.”

Finally the two stop in their tracks and look at one another a bit embarrassed. Unable to contain herself anymore, Rhemi snorts through her nose at this complete ridiculous awkwardness, breaking all the exhausting tension. After breaking down this unneeded discomfort, Martin then lets out a soft startled chuckle along with her, making his laughter lines next to his temples come out for once.

“Go ahead.” Rhemi says with a cheery smile, giving him a small nudge with her elbow.

But he shakes his head, patting her hand still loop through his other arm, a smile remaining on his face. “No, No—Please, ladies first.”

“Alrighty then…” She replies and they both proceed to stroll down the street again. “Did you sleep well?”

He sighs and thinks about that question with a shrug rolling off his shoulders. “Well enough, I suppose. However, I discovered it difficult to fall asleep after finding out your long lost daughter is still alive and well after all these years”

She laughs through her nose giving him a knowing look. “Yeah—I can relate to that… Except finding out about having a father.”

A fond grin faintly spreads on his lips as they stand there for a moment. Finally, Rhemi had to ask. “So where’s Beatrix today?”

“Oh—I left her behind today so she could get some rest. The damn badger never sleeps on the ship… She’s always hunting for filthy rodents on the deck at night.”

“I hope she’s get some rest then….. Is your hat resting too?”

“.... Beg your pardon??” He quickly replies, tilting his head rather confused.

“You’re not wearing your hat today. So is it resting too?” She kids.

“Oh….” Realizing what she is asking, Martin grins a little wider making the wrinkles in his cheeks visible, and a faint flash of cold in his glance. “... You can say that…”

“I think you look better without it anyways.”

Warmth in his eyes returns, and he looks at her rather flattered. “..... Really?”

“Tee-hee~ I like your hair… I wish I inherited your color. It’s different.” Rhemi says with a smile.  

“Ha! I don’t remember the last time someone complimented this overly ripe hair of mine.” Her father instinctinky slicks his thick plum and gray mane back with the other hand. “Thank you….”

“You’re welcome.”

“.... So, my Pigeon—” He says taking back his cane with his free hand. “What part of this…. lovely…. quaint little city… are you going to show me?” He sounds half sarcastic when he says lovely and quaint, but Rhemi doesn’t seem to even pay any attention to that, too distracted with her own thoughts.

Ooooooh no—I haven’t thought that far… she thinks to herself, tapping her pointer finger on her chin, pondering hard.

She looks left and right still thinking of the best place to start. Then she finally has an idea. “Hmmmm…. Well, have you had breakfast yet?”

“As a matter of fact, no, I have not.”

“Perfect. I know just the place!” She says excitedly as she tugs him along with a wide silly smile on her face. “Hope you're hungry!”

“We’ll see…” He mumbles to himself not convinced in the slightest.

It isn’t too long before the two come across the heart district where the marketplace is. Even though it’s early on a weekend day, the market is still bustling with people, buying, selling, haggling and negotiating goods.  

Of course the apprentice first took her father to one of her favorite bakers named Selasi in town to get some fresh pumpkin bread to start the day.

The poor Selasi’s stall was left in ruin just like everything else in the market after Lucio’s and his army of mercenaries took over the city after the Masquerade. But every since then, he had gotten recognized by the countess when everyone was refugees in the forest next to the hut. All the Parkain royals along with Nadia were impressed with the baker's delicious food, even with what little he had, it was amazing. After everyone returned and started rebuilding, he turned his simple stall into a full on shop and cafe and named it, ‘Selasi’s Bakery’.

He even picked up an apprentice of his own named Agrippa. A very tall and handsome person with powdery white skin, long light-grayish hair styled in pigtails tied and a loop at the ends, blue eyes and a smooth mid-ranged voice. They made Rhemi’s favorite cakes and sweets, and even somehow improved the baker’s pumpkin bread recipe. They even recently started dating Portia after she finally asked them out and the two have been going steady since the fall.

“Well—This is the market!” Rhemi introduces to her father, still leading him towards the bakers.

Her father scans the bustling market with an unimpressed look on his face. “Doesn’t seem like this part has changed.” He mutters to himself forcing himself not to sneer.  

“What was that?” Rhemi asks, unable to catch his muttering with all the loud noises from the market goers.

“I asked, ‘where are you taking me to’, Pigeon? ”

“Oh! To one of my very favorite places to get pumpkin bread~” She says as they arrive at the baker’s shop, the air is filled with sweet, buttery and savory aromas and Rhemi opens the door making the bell chime.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t trouble~” Agrippa teases with their charming smirk.

“Oh yeah, you should talk!” Rhemi giggles back, coaxing her father inside with her hand. He enters unenthusiastically looking at all of the food as Rhemi continues with their small talk. “How are you, Ippa?”

“Good, thank you, Bean! Business has been steady like always.”

“Where’s Selasi today?”

“Getting some more flour. I told him I’d go, but he insists that he has to ‘let the flour speak to him’ or whatever. How’s the wedding planning going? Portia told me you’ve been stressed out a little.” They say as they lean into the counter that they normally tower over.

“Things are coming together finally.” She says with an exhausted, but relieved sigh. “With Julian and Portia taking care of the little things, I could focus on the bigger things. All that is left is my last fitting for my dress now. So I think it’s safe to say it’ll be all smooth sailing from here!”

“Muriel dropped off the toppers yesterday. They look amazing! Your bow has some amazing talent. I can’t wait for everyone to see it.”

Rhemi’s eyes brighten up and her lips twist up even more. “Oooo! Let me see!”

“Nooooope~ I have very specific instructions to not let the bride see. It is supposed to be a surprise.” Agrippa says while straightening up their long trunk and folding their arms across their chest. “Sorry~”

Rhemi gives them a smile, pouts, then gives them a quick raspberry like a ten year old. She then rolls her eyes knowing they wouldn’t let her see them, and turns to her father and walks over to him.“OH! There is someone I’d like you to meet!”

“Oh? Who?”

Taking his arm once again, she leads her father to the counter. “Père, this is Agrippa, the baker’s apprentice.”

With one look at the nobleman, Agrippa's eyes widened. “Père? Doesn’t that mean…?” They trail off slowly connecting the dots. “I didn’t know you had a father!”

“Well neither did I!” She says with a giddy smile. “Not till yesterday.”

“Well… How do you do? I’m Agri—”

“Agrippa… yes I heard.” Martin replies a bit snootily. “I am Sir Remington Martin Alarie III, the Archmagister and head chamberlain of his Royal majesty of the Great Charlès.”

Realizing rather quickly what kind of man Martin was, Agrippa puts on a smirk and stops themself from sputtering. “Well, ‘Sir Remington Martin Alarie III, the Archmagister and head chamberlain of his Royal majesty of the Great Charlès’.” They double over the counter in a long bow deepening their voice playfully to mimic him. “I am but a humble baker who is blessed to be a friend of your lovely daughter.” They say bringing their body back up. “How do you do, Sir? ”

“I was told by my daughter that this was where her favorite pumpkin bread was made.”

“You’ve come to the right place! In fact—” Agrippa replies with a smile dashing off to the brick ovens for a moment donning oven mitts on their hands. “Got a fresh batch right here!”  

Rhemi eyes light up with joy and hunger and she wiggles her hips in sheer happiness. “You are going to love it!” She sings to her father and he gives her a half smile.

The baker’s apprentice cuts them both a generous piece wrapped up in a bit of parchment paper. “Here ya’ go!”

Just as Rhemi digs into her coin purse, her father stops her. “No, no. Do keep your money.” And digs into his vest. “A gentleman should always pay for a lady.”

But Agrippa stops him sticking out their hand and waving. “It’s on the house.”

“Really? You won’t get into trouble will you, Ippa?”

“Nahhhh~ Besides, gods know you and your friends keep this place in business!” They laugh.

“Thank you so much!” She says with a big happy smile then looks to her father expecting him to say thank you as well.

He blinks blankly, for a moment then opens his mouth with a click of his tongue. “Oh—Yes… ah, thank you, Agrippa… Although if you're giving this away for free... I’m not sure if I should be concerned or not.... could this be a poorer batch you messed up on?”

Rhemi laughs thinking he’s joking, and Agrippa joins in to not make things awkward, but knowing that he wasn’t kidding.

“Well we’ll get out of your hair before the weekend rush comes! See ya later, Ippa! Tell Selasi I said hello!”

“See ya!” Agrippa says with a smile as the two head out the door hiding a middle finger behind their back as they glare at the Archmagister and his unnecessary dickish comment.

As soon as they leave the bakery and walk around the market, Rhemi digs into her hot pumpkin bread. “Mmmmm! Sooooo goood.” She happily moans, tearing up the moist and tasty bread; but as she looks over to her father, he hasn’t even touched his food.

“Smmthin’ woong?” She asks covering her mouth, her voice muffled with bread still in her mouth.

The Archmagister just shrugs, taking a very small piece and forcing it down his throat. “....Hmmmm.”

“I’m sorry, do you not like pumpkin bread? I should have asked—”

“Oh no, it’s just…. I don’t take handouts.” Martin replies, his face stone cold and serious.

“Hand out?” She blurts out. “It’s a gift! Ippa was being nice.”

“Well… whatever you call it. I don’t take gifts unless I know what people want…” He says with a sneer. Rhemi’s happy smile then drops into a frown and Martin starts to feel an unfamiliar pull in his heart as he nearly tosses the bread to the ground for the birds to eat. “...I ah…. I also don’t care for pastries for breakfast.”  He says adjusting his tone while wrapping up the pumpkin bread into the parchment paper and handing it to his daughter. “... Nor do I typically have breakfast now that I mention it. Perhaps you’ll save it for later.”

“O—Okay. Thank you. I’m sorry you don’t like it.”

“Not your fault, Pigeon. I don’t expect you to know everything.” He reassures her. “Well where else in this pathe—I mean… petite city of yours are you going to show me?”

With a determined grin, Rhemi takes a deep breath knowing another place to go to.

“Follow me!”

——————————

As Rhemi shows Sir Martin around the city, the Temple district, the Heart, South end, and even the now newly rebuilt shopping district (previously known as the flooded district). But still, Rhemi couldn’t shake the agonizing feeling like the Archmagister was rather unimpressed with everything she threw at him. Even after all the renovations completed in the past year—Even when Rhemi told her father the story about the Devil converging with the ex-count—The battles with Lucio and his mercenary-ghost army— The competition to keep the world out of chaos.

Nothing—truly, nothing seems to impress him at all.

He still sneered, and scowled at the city, like he made up his own mind about it long long ago. Strangely, when the two were traveling around, it seemed like her father was familiar with the streets. He even knew many of the alleyways and short cuts that she didn’t even know about. But that hardly seemed to matter to Rhemi— the man wasn’t impressed with her beloved home… and she wanted to change that.

Persistently, she continued to show him Vesuvia, gushing her heart out, and even showed him the best places to eat and shop. Yet still, all her attempts to impress himself still left him with a sour expression on his face or a yawn.

As noon slowly approaches, Rhemi works back their way back to the palace. Feeling the morning wearing her down they approach the city center next to the large fountain where an old tacky statue of Lucio on a horse used to be. Now it’s only a lone cheetah holding a spear. For once. the Archmagistor seemed to have noticed it and stopped staring at this slightly perplexed.

“Say, Mileia…” (Another pet name for her apparently.) “...... Didn’t that used to be a gold statue of the Count riding a horse?”

Rhemi peers over to the top of the roaring fountain. “Oh yeah…. that was destroyed when Lucio attacked the city a year ago.”

Suddenly, the tangy scent of freshly smoked eel engulfs the plaza. She wasn't the only one who noticed either. Martin's teal eyes light up as if he sees an old long lost friend.

“Fresh eel!! Come and get your fresh eel heeeerreeeee!!!” The stand keeper shouts waving the delicious food in the air for everyone to see and smell.

Without another word, Rhemi hurries over with her coin purse before her father could stop her. “I’ll take two, please.”

The cheery venter takes her coins and gives her two kabobs. With food in hand, she runs back over to her father, she gives him one eel with a joyful smile. “This is a gift from your daughter. Not a hand out.” Half expecting him to refuse it, he surprisingly takes the food then stares at it almost nostalgically sniffing the tasty treat.

“What’s the matter?” She finally asks, stopping herself from shoving the food down her throat.

“Hmm??” Martin shakes his head, but still stares at the kabob oddly.  “Oh, nothing… I just haven't had a smoked eel in a very long time.”

“Oh! I didn’t know you had it in Charles too.”

He gives her a small annoyed glance from her mispronunciation. “It’s Charlès, darling….  And we don’t. The capital doesn’t have any seas or ocean around it. It’s surrounded by treacherous mountains. The only fish we have is salmon, bass, and trout from the icy rivers...”

“O.. oh… So… where have you had it before?”

“I….—” Martin sharply stops himself and his eyes grow colder again and he seems to shake himself out of his nostalgic trace. “... M-my father, your grandfather, Remington II used to bring me and my siblings some when he traveled to the coast. He placed a spell on them so they wouldn’t spoil.”

“Oh… Neat!” Rhemi says with a smile. So far he’s mentioned her grandparents once the day before. Apparently that's where she gets her dark reddish-brown hair from her grandmother.

Unable to resist the sweet, salty smoky flavor, he actually takes a bite out of the eel and seems to rather enjoy it. “Still even tastes the same…” He chuckles before scarfing the eel down.

Finally. Something he likes. Feeling a bit accomplished she feels the tension in her shoulders relax. This man wasn’t like any of her friends. Gods know he was much harder to read as well. It’s like he has this invisible wall around himself. Trying to get to know him was proving to be difficult. But Rhemi liked a challenge and wasn’t one to give up easily.

“So, I suppose they had a reason why did they replace Luico with this… cheetah?” Her father asks after making it half through his eel looking at the piece of art of the new fountain.

“Lucio nearly tore this city and the world apart… He killed a lot of people to gain power. People that Muriel and I really cared about… He even killed his father years ago. Then killed his own mother in the Scourge Lands… Her name was Morga…” With sad somber expression, she stares up at the bronze sculpture and all its power and beauty. “If it wasn’t for Morga… I don’t think we’d be here right now… Muriel and I probably wouldn’t have gone to the south together… Lucio might have even won.”

“.... So I presume that cheetah is supposed to represent her?”

Sadly, Rhemi slowly nods her head, still gazing at the fountain statue.

“Interesting…. Excuse me for slightly changing the subject… but you mentioned that Lucio became merged with the…. devil? From the Arcana realm?”

Taken a little by surprise, she glances over to her father realizing that he did in fact listen to her earlier while she was showing him the other parts of the city. “Yeah… I’m not sure exactly how. But I think he made a lot of deals with various demons— I mean that literally…. And like I said… kill a lot of people... including his own mother.”

“... Just so he could live forever?”

“.... I think it was for power and to live forever??... Or it was so he could regain a physical form…. or maybe he wanted to dominate the world too—Or that was the devil influencing him? I honestly have no idea. And if you ask me, it was too heavy of a price to pay. The Arcana realms must be occupied by someone… if not, our world is thrown into chaos and ruin. In the end, he was forced back.”

“Hmmm…”

After making quick work of his eel, Martin throws the bare stick into the water of the fountain. Poor Rhemi’s eyes widen in silent dismay and hastily fishes it out with her magic when he isn’t looking. She’d have half a mind to tell him not to litter… But it didn’t feel like the time or place to lecture her own father.

“It is strange to hear about a dead man coming back to life… When rumors came that Count Lucio of Vesuvia was murder in his own bed, it came to many courtiers a shock. Even the king was appalled….Personally, I always saw him as a bumbling fool.”

“So you've been here before?”

“A handful of times, yes.”

“And you knew the ex-Count?”

“Unfortunately. King Francis rather enjoyed his company much to my dismay….. His Majesty thought he was and I quote, ‘The best kind of host, charmingly idiotic and stupidly generous’.... He did know how to throw some entertaining parties, I suppose. So the King seemed to have taken a liking to him… but I never cared for him.”

“Good!! He was a freakin’ asshole is what he was.” Rhemi snarly adds before taking the last bite of her smoked eel, stewing on all the things he’s done to everyone, especially Muriel. “That stupid humanoid-goat could go fuck himself in the devil’s realm for all of eternity for all I care! Good riddance!” She sneers under her breath.

With an shocked and appalled expression, Martin glances at her mildly scolding. “Well, that’s some colorful language for a lady such as yourself.”

Pssssh! I’m no lady… She laughs to herself and she pulls on her lips to stop from spilling them out. “... So you disagree with me?” She asks with a smirk and an eyebrow raised, throwing the two bare sticks into a nearby rubbish bin, still chewing a half mouth full of eel.

Despite his distaste for her language, he’s unable to control his snickering. For now he lets it go and he shrugs. “I never said that.” Martin chuckles. “.. You are right in that regard... that man was an encompident ass.”

“—Miss Rhemi!!!” A childish voice all of a sudden calls from a far.

Rhemi and Sir Martin whip their heads around to where the young voice was calling from. Low and behold, they see three children all under the ages of twelve barreling towards them, the youngest in full sprint. Really at second look, it looks like the other two were chasing after the younger one.

“Hold onto your coin purse, Rhemielia.” Martin whispers with a vicious sneer, standing in front of her with his cane at the ready.

“Huh?” She mumbles looking over his shoulder, not getting a few view of the children.

As soon as her voice escapes from her lips, Rhemi can sense her father conjuring his magic into the jeweled handle of his cane. The gem starts to glow brightly giving off a sort of metallic smelling aura... He is conjuring a spell?? To use on these kids???

Now getting a full glimpse over her father’s shoulder, she realizes she knows the children running up to them both and a large bead of sweat forms on her brow unsure what her father was intending to do.As soon as Martin brings up his cane to let loose the spell, she gently places her hand on the top of his jeweled handle, scooting him out of the way and forcing him to set down his weapon.

“—Ohhh! Lilly! Zachary! Nathan! How are you silly kids??” She says with a ginger smile. Martin face twists as he realizes that she knows these little peasants, but he keeps quiet, observing her as the three snot nosed brats approach them, two boys and one girl.

Rhemi kneels down and the children all embrace her with a tight hug nearly knocking her over to the cobble street. “Rhemiiiiii!!!”

“Sorry! I couldn’t stop him.” The girl apologized.

“That’s alright! Well—Hello, hello, and hello! What are you three rascals doing here?” Rhemi greets cheerily.

“Getting some eggs.” The young girl says lifting up an empty basket. She was the tallest and the oldest. If you couldn’t immediately, she was the responsible one in the trio, the ‘mother hen’ of the group. Her hair was a bright blonde with tight curls styled in two puffy pigtails. Her skin is a beautiful dark black, like a fresh brewed coffee, and eyes a bright hazel.

“Where’s Mr. Tall Man today?” The youngest boy asks looking all around making his wild and curly brown toffee colored hair, bounce all around. He has pale ivory skin with flecks everywhere, and dark brown eyes, and couldn’t be no older than six or seven, about one of Muriel’s cousins named Ida’s age, and just as cute. However he wasn’t the faintest bit shy like Ida is.

“Oh—I’m sorry, Nathan. Muriel isn’t with me today. He’s busy doing other errands.” Rhemi answers him tilting her head feeling rather guilty.

“Awwww.” The little boy whines looking at the ground disappointedly, holding the eldest child and the girl's hand and pouts. “I wanted to show him my newt. I found him in a pond.” He opens his pocket and out comes a little sticking looking bright orange creature with various sized brown and gray spots covering his head to his tail (freckles, just like Nathan).

Martin makes a revolted little noise and looks away for a moment, a hard sneer twisting his features, Rhemi doesn’t see him cringing behind. To his surprise, his daughter isn’t disgusted or afraid at all, she actually seems to think it’s cute, and pets his little head with her pointer finger. “Ooooh~ What’s their name, Nathan?”

“Wart! He’s a boy newt.” He says as he turns his neck and sticks his tongue out at Lillian and she just shakes her head, with a long-suffering look on her face.

“Well isn’t he just lovely. He has a wonderful color, orange is one of my favorite colors. I’ll be sure to tell Mr. Muriel about him! I’m sure he’d love to see him.” Her eyes glance behind to her father, still looking rather prudish and she smiles realizing she hadn’t introduced anyone yet. “OH! Right!…. Sooo, everyone, this is my father, his name is Sir Remington Martin Alarie III. He’s a King’s magician.”

The young girl lets out a shallow quick gasp as she looks up at Martin and he half turns his nose up at her. “I didn’t know you had a father.” She whispers to Rhemim shielding her mouth with her hand.

Rhemi plays along and whispers back the same way, “Neither did I… We just met yesterday.”

Little Nathan clings onto the Archmagister’s pant leg and Martin furrows his brow and somehow manages to frown even more. “You’re a neat magician too, like Miss Rhemi, Mister??”

Martin rolls his eyes scoffs. “....What gave that away? The cape or the cane, Oh-Child with a newt named ‘Wart’ ?” He sassily remarks, slowly unhinged the child’s arms off his leg.

Realizing that her father was confused about how she knew these children, she stands up and loops her arm around his. “Père, these are some children that were on the streets before the battle with Lucio…” Rhemi then points to each of the kids one at a time. “This is Lillian, Lilly for short. That strapping young lad is Zachary. And last but not least, little Nathan.”

The youngest child excitedly waves his hand at the old grumpy magician adorably despite Martin's lack of caring. “You look like a fancy magician!!” Nathan giggles cutely, finally letting go of the Archmagister’s leg.

“..... Mmmmm hmmmm….” The old gentleman grumbles. “... Nathan… was it??” The boy nods his head not noticing the nobleman’s disgust as he continues to sluggishly push him away, now gently using the butt end of his cane. “Pleasure to make your…. acquaintance…” He mutters trying to sound kind as he quickly brushes off his pant leg he touched.

Zachary, the older boy, notices the man’s dislike for Nathan touching him and stares at him shamelessly and the two start to have a silent scowling staring contest all unbeknownst to Rhemi who is still looking away. But Lilly catches and just stands there shaking her head unimpressed with either of them.

But then Nathan just rambled on adorably blabbing and now clinging onto Rhemi’s right leg and she ruffles his messy hair untamed hair that she admired. “Miss Rhemi and Mr. Muriel and Ms. Countess lady and—*achoo*—and all of her other friends helped made us all a home.”

A little bit of pink quickly stains Rhemi’s face as her father's eyes fall on her. “Well it was all Muriel, Asra, and Nadia’s idea to build an orphanage. All I did was help.”

“The Countess lady comes and reads to us eeeevery Wednesdays.” Nathan continues to rant. “And—And Miss Rhemi and Mr. Muriel comes by and sometimes they bring us arts n’ crafts and-and-and teach us magic!!”

“Is that so?” Marin fakely smiles. “Magic is so freely taught here I see…”

“Yeah! We each have our own beds! Mr. Muriel helped make them for us!”

“—And get three square meals a day. We don’t have to fight or steal food anymore….” Zachary finally chims in, scratching the back of his head. “Which is…. okay I guess…” His skin is olive-ish brown and his hair is a dark umber color, but has bright crystal blueish gray eyes that stand out.

Zachary was always normally very quiet. He used to be a part of a group of kids that were terrible bullies and even thugs. But ever since he saw Muriel, a hero and champion to the city, who was an orphan who grew up on the docks just like him, something changed in him. Perhaps knowing that someone like him could be a hero someday, strong and brave, he left that life behind and started a fresh path at the orphanage. He was still very young, no older than eleven, but really looked up to Muriel and Rhemi and saw them both as his role models. Even now, he tries to act all tough and aloof, but he’s really a little sweetheart and cared about the orphanage as much as the other two did.

“Well isn’t that ….nice.” Martin says with a bit of surprise in his face glancing at Rhemi. “Very appropriate for a young lady such as yourself to get involved in.”

“How’s Mrs. Edilen doing??” Rhemi asks, turning her attention back to the children.

“Old…”  Zachary mutters blankly. Without warning, Lilly smacks him across the back of his head with such a scoldingly look on her face. “—OW! WHAAAAT??” He grumbles just above a whisper, his bright eyes angrily beaming at her as he holds his head.

“Shut your mouth, Zach!!! That woman is good to us and you know it!” Lilly snaps before answering Rhemi. “She’s fine, but her back has been bothering her lately.”

Lillian has been the little mother figure for these kids at the orphanage. She was always scolding and ensuring everyone minded their manners even though she was half their strength. You could tell she was in charge, but she was a very good kid with a heart of gold. She reminds Rhemi of herself in a way.

Rhemi stifles a laugh to spare poor Zachary’s pride and just continues with the conversation. “She’s actually coming by later for her potion, I hope that’ll help her.”

“Me too, I guess….” Zachary grumbles with his arms folded. “I’m sick of reading bedtime stories to the younger kids...”

“Oh stop acting like you don’t like it! You’re the one who does it without anyone asking you too!” Lilly rolls her eyes.

“...T—They whine if I don’t!” He quickly retaliates, blushing crazily.

Lilly just stares at him with a knowing smirk. “Oh yeah, I’m sure they whine when you don’t do the voices either!” She teases.

Poor Zachary’s face looks like it's going to explode and he gently shoves her, covering his burning face with the neck of his shirt like a turtle. “Shut. Up. LILLIAN!!” He grouches, words muffled by his shirt.

Kneeling back down with a giggle, Rhemi can’t help but love to see these two banter like they do. I can see these two getting married in ten years. She thinks to herself. “Well, I better get going, kiddos. I’m showing my father around the city and are expected for tea.”

In unison all of the kids sink their shoulders disappointedly.

“Are you both gonna come to see us soon?” Nathan asks with the biggest puppy dog eyes, holding onto her shaw.

“Awwwww!! Of course we will! It’s just all this wedding has just been keeping us busy. But I promise Muriel and I will come soon. Ok?”

All three kids excitedly say, hooray in unison and give her one last group hug before they all head on their merry way, waving her goodbye as they’d end towards the market.

“Bye, Fancy Mister Magician Man!” Nathan calls with a big goofy smile while holding onto Lilly’s hand.

As the kids wander off, Martin just looks at Rhemi with such fondness as he takes a seat next to the water fountain ledge.

“What?” Rhemi asks with a grin.

Martin just shakes his head with a chuckle. “You’re just like your mother….. even just now… you are just the spit of her… She loved working with children. She wanted to become a governess before she met me.”

Rhemi smiles a little wider and sits next to her father on the fountain’s edge. “.... I wish I could remember her face….”

The water fountain behind the two keeps endlessly roaring with the water and the two sit then content for a moment, watching as people go by, happy to take a seat for the time being. As they both sit there enjoying the warmth of the sun, Rhemi’s mind wanders to yesterday to her unanswered questions the other day. It kills her to want to know, but it’s terrifying to ask.

Finally, she swallows her fears, and tightens her fists as she summons the courage. “....Père?”

“Yes, my Pigeon?”

“I… I wanted to ask you this yesterday, but it didn’t necessarily come up in the conversation… But…. ummm…  What exactly….. happened?....” Her father's smile fades as soon as she utters that question, and he turns his head away from her. His reaction just makes her want to know even more. “...W-Why hadn’t I seen you for so many years?”

Martin’s cold eyes shimmer with a glimpse of pain with that question and swallows hard. “..... I…. I think that's for another day, dear child…”

She sits there for a moment, considering to let it go, but her mouth moves before she can really stop herself. “…. Could… could you at least tell me something? P-Perhaps? It’s been killing me to know what happened….”

Martin still keeps his eyes averts from hers, hoping she’d stop being so persistent.

“... If I could remember any of it myself, I wouldn’t have asked.” She adds sheepishly twiddling with thumbs in her lap.

The old magician stews on her words for a while, still very hesitant to speak of what happened and she thinks he’ll just ignore her plea. But then he sighs very deeply before muttering unenthusiastically, “.... Very well….”

Taking out a pipe out of his vest pocket along with a little tobacco from a fancy tiny metal tin. Conjuring his magic to his finger, he lights up the pipe, and takes in three short puffs followed by one big one. Pondering his words, he holds it in his mouth peering at the crowd, then finally blows out all the smelly smoke slowly. “...You and your mother…. were stolen from me around fifteen years ago.”

Rhemi quickly whips her head towards him with her eyes wide, staring at her father completely dumbfounded.

S-Stolen? She shouts to herself in her mind, her poor heart starting to beat a little faster by the second. By—by who?? What does this all mean??

He draws in another larger puff before continuing this obviously painful story, apparently being soothed by the tobacco. “You both were kidnapped.... By a terrible evil witch named Phara….”

Phara… he mentioned her before the other day. Why doesn’t that name sound familiar to me?? Why can’t I remember that name???

Squinting her eyes as if that would somehow help her remember as she follows with another question. “...W-Who was Phara? I don’t remember that name at all.”

“I was afraid of that. But I also could only assume that was the case as well.” He takes in a quick puff and nods solemnly before beginning again, bellowing out the smoke as he spoke.. “.....I ….I hired her to be your tutor. You were about…. ohhhh I believe it was seven or eight at the time?—It was shortly after I was promoted to head chamberlain to his Majesty's court and I became increasingly busy with my new duties. Anyways…. One day, you scared your governess half to death… She was teaching you handwriting. You apparently threw a tantrum and lit your parchment paper ablaze with your magic. According to some servants, she came out of the library screaming.”

Rhemi’s cheeks start to feel like they are burning, that sounds about right knowing herself and how angry she can get even now. Sometimes she still wants to destroy things now when she is pissed off…. Apparently some things never change.

“... And so...You needed to learn how to control your magic.” He continues, “... And mother suggested someone she grew up with.”

“.... Phara?” Rhemi knowingly asks, placing her hands on the cold marble stone she’s sitting on.

Martin nods slowly, waving his pipe around as he spoke. “Yes…. Phara….. She was a Throthian woman, a professor for some intellectuals. For a time, she taught foreign dukes, duchesses, and even a few princesses in Parka and she was highly regarded, even for a woman.”

Throthian… Now that sounds familiar… Where do I know that word from?

“... She even taught many commoners and the poor to read and write so they can make better lives for themselves… which didn’t make the king very happy…. But most importantly, she was also a witch. Apparently a skilled one at that, which is what you needed at the time. Your mother swore that she trusted this woman with her life, and that Phara was bound to secrecy and confidentiality.”

…. Wait—Secrecy??....Why secrecy??

He pauses for a second, and draws in another deep puff on his pipe, then lets it out. Quietly Rhemi covers her mouth and lightly coughs, the smell of the tobacco burning her lungs. “....Despite my better judgement—I felt at the time that we had no better alternative. So, I hired her to be your tutor. She didn’t know the basics of aristocratic life, such as playing classical music on the piano, needle point, edict, or anything like your previous governess, but she was what we desperately needed at the time… And I’ll admit she was much more intelligent. Years went by, your magic was under control and you were being properly educated…. or so I thought.”

“.... So you thought? What do you mean??”

“.... Well… it came to my attention that she was teaching you things no young girl of nobility should know.” He pauses once again and looks his daughter in the eyes very seriously and sincerely and Rhemi feels her heart tug down. “...Phara was teaching you terrible things... evil things, Rhemielia.”

Rhemi’s eyes fall down to the cobblestone street as she tries to swallow all of this information. ….I… I was taught… evil things?... Perhaps that’s why I didn’t bat an eyelash at the blood magic, yet Muriel was so bothered by it…. am I… evil at heart?? Rhemi wonders to herself, her heart tugging even more. Is that why I was such a jerk before I died?

“.... One night about a week after your twelfth birthday.... I came home a day early after going on a diplomatic trip with the king. I was bringing you a late birthday present… But to my surprise, no one greeted me at the gates, nor the door. Soon I realized that all the servants were gone, the chateau was dark and empty and something sinister was afoot.” Rhemi’s nails started to dig into her thighs unconsciously as she hung onto every word… This part was starting to sound almost familiar. “.... I made my way to the parlor, and I saw Phara shoving you and your poor mother out the veranda and was planning on throwing you both out off the balcony for god knows what reason.”

Rhemi swallows the lump in her throat hearing all of this for some reason its starting to feel a little more familiar. “.... We fought. It was her magic against mine…. Soon, the fourier was in shambles, the furniture and decor littered the floor, and I had her nearly beat… Then the next thing I see out of the corner of my eye that your poor little head was cracked open…. You were bleeding everywhere, barely standing straight in the corner of the room...”

Vision starts to become dizzy, Rhemi closes her eyes to stop her head from spinning. But as soon as Rhemi closes her eyes, the short glimpse of her small childish hands trembling and covered in blood come into her mind. It’s too vivid to have been her imagination. Her right hand instinctively goes to her forehead to the right side of her frontal skull where there are two stubborn cowlicks that never grew much hair. She couldn’t part her hair any other way because of them. It’s only at this very moment she can feel a slight dip in her bone that she realizes why that hair never grew past an inch or two… it was a hidden scar, it was small, no bigger than an inch now, however it felt like it went rather deep.

A quick twinge of pain returns to Rhemi’s temples for a split second and she shuts her eyes yet again and stifles her groan. Flames of the burning mansion in her dreams illuminates behind her eyelids—the other Rhemi, the dying phoenix, faint muffled screams and yells they all start to rush into her mind and ears, making her almost sick to her stomach. Focusing on her breathing, she diverts her thought away from her nausea not wanting to see the eel or pumpkin bread a second time. She dare not make a scene in the middle of the city and she stays silent, quietly suffering as her father continues on.

“I… I underestimated that witch, she was more craftier than I had originally thought. Somehow I found myself with a knife in my back. You were just standing there, looking paler by the second… So I ignored my pain and staggered straight over to you. I knew you needed a healer immediately with the amount of blood you were losing and—” Martin stops mid word, you can hear him choking back some tears with his voice cracking. “... I reached out to save you…. to pull you into my arms—but….” He softly trails off.

Rhemi closes her eyes again, and for a moment, she sees a large eerie hand slowly coming at her from the dark—As she opens her eyes it disappears once again.

In the corner of eyes, she can see as Martin pulls off his right leather glove for the first time, and she notices that he pulls up part of his long sleeve of his fancy shirt. Underneath them both hid a terrible looking old burn that started from the top of this hand, ran up his forearm, and wrapped all around his bicep. It was awful to look at, it must have been so incredibly painful. “... Phara proved to be craftier than I expected… she always was… I just wish I saw it sooner… That damn witch used the last bit of her magic to start a terrible fire, even put you in harm's way to do it.”

The fire…. Is that what the other me was trying to tell me about? The fire?? Is Phara that monster?.... I don’t know if I still want to know...

The nausea and dizziness subsiding as quickly as it came, she stared at her poor father’s arm a burning in her nose. “I’m…. I’m so sorry, Père.” She softly says with tears in her eyes as she gazes at the terrible scar seared into her father’s flesh. “Does it still hurt?”

“You mean…. This old scar?” He scowls with an eyebrow raised, appearing a bit puzzled.

Rhemi nods sheepishly, her large eyes beaming with such a somber empathetic expression.

Seeing this sincere look, he’s face softens and he even gives her a reassuring grin and shakes his head. “No… Not anymore, Pigeon.”

Gently she touches it with the tips of her fingers inspecting the shriveled tough pinkish skin. “Did you have a doctor's help? It looks like it healed rather well.”

“I did actually…” The Archmagister holds up his arm, opening and closing his fist, wiggles his fingers, and flexes his elbow to show that his range of motion was at least spared “... The doctors and healers had to use some unconventional methods to salvage all of my fingers and I regained feeling in my forearm… And it took quite a while to recover from all of it—I even had to learn how to write with my left hand... But honestly, I hardly remember it.”

He stops flexing his arm and hand and gently rests it back on top of his leg with the palm up. “... All the while I was healing, I was focused on finding you and your mother. I put a very high bounty on Phara’s head along with countless posters, fliers, and I sent letters to neighboring kingdoms everywhere. I hired men and the best bounty hunters all over the country to comb cities to the countryside in Charlès for you and your mother… But then, weeks turned into months, months into years, years into over a decade. Everyone all but gave up, the story of the Archmagister’s kidnapped wife and daughter became all but a tragic distant memory.... To some, it twisted into a bedtime story. About a demon witch who came in the night who lured beautiful mothers and their poor children out of their homes in the dead of night during the witching hour. The witch would kill them and drain all of their blood so she could bathe in it to restore her youth and power. Then she’d chopped the bodies all up into tiny pieces and cooked their flesh into a stew, serving it to the unsuspecting poor.”

Martin draws back his arm, rolling down his sleeve, donning his leather glove yet again. “But only few knew the truth.”

“That must have been just terrible for you…. You must have been so lonely.” Rhemi finally utters after sitting there quietly.

“... I never released how empty a house felt without you both in it.” He mumbles looking away into the crowd. He shrinks into himself as soon as those words leave his mouth as if he didn’t mean to admit that. But Rhemi could tell, that came directly from his heart.

Martin suddenly clears his throat quickly slicking back his hair, shaking himself out his thoughts and glances at his pocket watch. “Oh would you look at that. It’s nearly time for tea.” He straightens up and lightly pats her head and she tries her best to stop herself from sneering to be polite. “Come on then. Let’s get a move on, don’t want to be tardy now, do we?” He says standing to his feet and shaking out his cape.

“N-no… No we don’t.” Rhemi answers, sluggishly standing her feet as well brushing out the wrinkles in her shirt.

———————

The walk back to the palace was a bit more quiet, but Rhemi and Martin now seem to be comfortable with it and just enjoy each other’s company in comfortable silence. She’s somewhat used to it being with Muriel.

As the two made it back to the Palace, they were greeted by a handful of Nadia’s servants and an older man in dark green and blue that her father called Bartholomew. He must have been his servant; his uniform and disposition was very different from anyone else.

Judging from the lack of people around, Rhemi and Martin apparently had arrived a bit early and were both left in the common room for the Countess’ arrival. Bartholomew whispered a few things to Martin’s ear before very elegantly leaving the room.

Suddenly, Beatrix comes scurrying around the corner making a few of Nadia’s servants comically shriek in surprise. The grumpy badger quickly prances over to Martin and climbs up her over the armchair close by, then on to his shoulders.

“Making yourself a nuisance yet again I see, Beatrix.” Martin teases her and she chatters back.

“Good afternoon, Bea~.” Rhemi says with a smile as she puts her hand up to her to sniff. Surprisingly, the animal lets her scratch under her chin after giving her a few pumpkin seeds from her pocket. It’s unclear if she likes Rhemi or if she just likes the food she gives her. Either way, Rhemi likes her. She’s cute in a scruffy kind of way.

“Pardon me.” Says Pascal, a servant who took over Portia’s position after she was appointed to Chamberlain comes in with a bow. “The Countess wanted me to inform you both that she will be arriving shortly. In the meantime, please make yourself comfortable.”

A sharp scoff ejects out of Martin’s mouth. “Of course she’s going to make us wait….” He grumbles, and Beatrix growls a little at the poor servant showing her teeth. “I was invited into her own palace, haven’t seen the damn woman since I arrived and now she’s gonna make us wait?”

“My apologies, Sir Martin… She’s just returning from a Heart District reconstruction meeting.”

Rhemi steps in front of her father and before he could mutter another word and feeds his badger another pumpkin seed and she ceases her aggressive noises. “Thank you, Pascal. How’s your father doing?”

The servant smiles sincerely and cups his hands together. “Oh, great after that sleeping remedy you gave him!”

“Good! Any more chronic night terrors about jellyfish?”

Pascal laughs as she mentions that and Martin has a perplexed scowl on his face looking towards his familiar as if she knew the answer to that. “No! None since Muriel gave him that dream catcher over his bed. My family can’t thank you both enough for that.”

“Ooooh please, it was nothing! I’m just glad to hear he’s doing better—”

Martin stands in front of his daughter before she can finish her sentence. “—Yes, yes. That’s very nice indeed. Now if you wouldn’t mind...” The Archmagister says, shamelessly shooing the poor thing away, waving his cane guestering towards the door. “I’m sure your Countess would like you to return to her without dallying.”

Rather taken off guard by his rudeness, Pascal blinks blankly for a moment before bowing out and leaving the room. “Y-yes, your Excellency.”

Just as shocked as Pascal, Rhemi shakes her head staring at the back of her father’s head. Finally she taps on his back and her father turns to face her. “... You could have been nicer…” She mumbles to him a bit pouting.

He sighs, then pinches the bridge of his nose. “You really shouldn’t make chummy conversation with the servants, Rhemielia… It’s distasteful.”

The Archmagister walks around Rhemi towards the other side of the room to a small table by the fireplace, Rhemi’s eyes following him. “..... But I like Pascal—”

“—Well, Rhemielia, how about we play a game of chess to pass the time?” He says rather jollily (for him) gesturing towards the small table where the game is set up.

“Chess?..” She repeats him tilting her head. She can’t remember the last time she ever played the damn game and she sheepishly scratches the back of her head. “...Oh… I don’t really like playing. I don’t think I remember all the rules anyw—”

“Very well. I’ll teach you the rules again.” He replied, taking a seat next to the white pieces and setting his cane on the outside of the chair. “... We used to play when you were younger. If I remember correctly, you were getting quite good too, but never could quite beat me.”

“S-... Sure… why not?..” Rhemi reluctantly gives in, taking a seat behind the black pieces in the armchair.

Quickly, but thoroughly, her father explains the basic rules, and part of it is starting to come back to her as she stares at the pieces a bit longer.

“Any questions?” He finally asks as he pets Beatrix and she leans into his touch.

The apprentice gazes at all the pieces studying them carefully. Rook, king, queen, bishop, knight and….. and…. hhhhmmm…

Forgetfully, she points to the smaller pieces in the front. “These small ones… they're called, pawns or fawns?”

“Pawns. You were right the first time….. Are you starting to remember the rules, my little Pigeon?”

“Maybe?... It all sounds rather familiar.” Her finger gently grazes the top of the small cold piece and she has a sad frown. “I think I remember how.... I didn’t like how people treat these little pieces.”

“What?” He softly scoffs, an entertained grin growing on his lips. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Well….. T-These pieces represent people don’t they? This is a strategy game…. To represent a war or battle.”

Baffled at that assessment, Martin gazes back at the marble pieces and shrugs. “I…. I suppose you are correct in that regard… what is your point, child?”

Rhemi looks back down finding the right words to explain how she felt. “In this game… pawns are dispensable, their movements are limited, unlike the other pieces behind them. But because there are more of them, they are more expendable than the other taller pieces.” She pauses as she looks as she picks up one of the pawns with a few chips and cracks in it, reminding her of her poor Muriel for some reason and the way Lucio used him for so many years for his own entertainment. “People really shouldn’t treat others like that. Some…. object that can be used and taken out with little to no consequences. They are just some game piece to them, not another person…”

Martin stops himself from mid sputter trying his best not to laugh out loud. “Well…. now your spouting off nonsense.” He mumbles as he leans his back into the lounge chair, crossing his legs and resting his hand on his temple. “... This is just a game after all—”

“—I would happily agree with you, Rhemi.” Nadia’s silky smoothe voice interrupts and Martin and Rhemi stand quickly to their feet slightly taken by surprise. Stunning and beautiful as always, she strolls into the room, her heels clicking the floor, dressed in her white and green outfit and her hair half up and half down. Pascal trailing behind her with a grin on his face. “... If you think about it that way, the game is rather horrible that some pieces are labeled as not being as important as others. But in reality, the good leader should acknowledge that all of the pieces are important, no matter how small or limited they are.”

Martin bows very traditionally and elegantly, Beatrix hanging off his shoulders looking lifeless. “... Countess.”

However Rhemi just casually rushes to Nadia and wraps her arms around her and he raises an eyebrow at her informalness and lack of edict or manners.

“It’s so good to see you! Thank you so much for lending me your tailor again!” Martin’s child so boldly and informally converses making him stunned for words.

The Countess just smiles and hugs her back with a bright smile. “Oh, the pleasure is all mine. I hope you don’t mind, but Pierre let me get a sneak peak of it.”

“Ohh! Really???” Rhemi’s cheeks get all flushed and hot once again and she cups her face with her hands. “W-What do you think of it??”

“Oh, it’s just lovely, Rhemi. Just perfect for you. I can not wait to see you in it—Or Muriel seeing you in it for that matter.”

“Ooooo!! Realllly???? Thank you, Nadia!”

Suddenly, Martin clears his throat rather loudly, cutting through the two’s giddy laughter. “Countess Satrinava.”

The countess's eyes suddenly darken hearing the Archmagister’s voice and she forced back on a smile. “Ah yes… Monsieur Martin.” He approaches her with his chest puff out and she returns a polite curtsy. She then extends her hand out and he kisses to top of her knuckles, very diplomatic and traditional like. “...It has been ages, I haven't seen you since King Francis’ Spring ball six years ago… How have you been?” The Countess asks, fakely attempting to be interested.

“Quiet fine, thank you for asking.” Martin smirks back with a devious look. “... However I do fear that you haven’t been receiving my letters because I haven't gotten any back over the years. In fact, I have been around your city this morning, no flyers have been posted either.”

Nadia’s shoulder slightly tenses as if she knew and dreaded what he was about to say. Yet, she keeps a calm and composed face. “I do owe you my apologies. I have had other obligations this past year….. just a small war to save the world and clean up my city after pure evil attempted to rule our realm….”

“Ahhh…. yes… so I’ve heard... Most understandable. Things such as that are to be expected when a woman is in a position such as yourself… You really shouldn’t be so harsh on yourself, Nadia.”

“And what position would that be, Sir Martin?” Nadia remains poised and collected, but Rhemi could tell, she was getting irritated.

Martin smirks while placing both hands on his cane out in front of him. “One with great responsibility and little power, of course, Countess…. Ruling a city is a man’s job after all.”

An awkward tense silence takes hold for a moment and Nadia just flutters her eyes and fakely smiles a bit wider at his blunt rudeness. “... So nice to see you again, Archmagister. Do enjoy your stay.”

Eloquently, she turns her back to Martin tugging Rhemi along, giving her attention back to her champion, ignoring that rude and very sexist comment. “So, my dear champion. What brings you here? I do apologize for my tardiness. Especially when you had such ‘lovely’ company that also failed to show up for tea time yesterday.” She says that last part loud enough for him to hear.

“Well… ahhhhhh, we had tea scheduled for this afternoon—” Rhemi replies awkwardly.

The Countess shakes her head, instantly remembering. “Oh! Yes of course! How could I forget, I have sandwiches, biscuits, and tea being made as we speak—Oh, and your favorite~”

“Oooo—Agrippa’s strawberry lemon cake???” Rhemi says wiggling her hips excitedly.

Nadia nods with a bright smile, laughing at Rhemi’s pure overjoyed expression. “Portia was so kind to pick it up. Her and her brother should be here any minute, won’t they? Shall we have it on the balcony? It’s a lovely day.” She says looping her arm around Rhemi’s.

“Yes, but, ahhhh….” Suddenly, the apprentice stops her feet and politely pulls away. “Actually, I, ah, wanted to introduce someone to you, but I gather you’ve already met.”

Nadia interlaces her fingers together and rests her hands in front of her, wearing a rather confused expression. “...Oh?”

Her eyes follow Rhemi as she walks back over to Martin and loops her arm through his. “Nadia…. Sir Martin is my father….”

Nadia’s eyes widen, completely shocked. “Your…. father…?”

The Archmagister smiles at her with his nose high and stares at her condescendingly. “Ah yes…. Without any of your help I ended up finding my daughter myself—-But to my pleasant surprise she was alive. And in your city no doubt. What are the odds of the place that refused to comply with posting my wanted posters was the exact place where I found her.”

“Your…. His daughter?? The child who was stolen by an evil witch?”

Rhemi’s face suddenly flushes. Even Nadia knew about me?

“I…. I guess so.” She shrugs slightly embarrassed.

Nadia can’t help but flutter her eyelashes, gazing speechlessly to her champion. Finally she opens her mouth and looks toward Martin with a bit of guilt. “But…. you’ve been looking for her for—”

“—For fifteen years, seven months, a week, two days, and seven hours…. Yes…” Martin interjects with a sour and slightly angry, yet smug expression. “... But who’s counting?”

With Nadia completely gobsmacked and silent, Rhemi mutters. “I was hoping it would be alright if I invited him for tea time with Julian and Portia, so he could get to know my friends….. U-Unless of course that’s rude—”

“—No! No. It’s quite alright.” Nadia says shaking out of her stupor. “... Besides this afternoon was for you anyways, this may be the last tea you have as a single woman.”

“Oh you’re right. Didn’t think about that!... But it's better to ask right?”

“Of course.” Nadia looks towards Pascal as nods to cue him to lead them all towards the balcony.

“If you would follow me…” Pascal quickly says before whipping around to escort them all to the balcony.

Nadia hangs back staring at Rhemi and Sir Martin as they link arms having a terrible feeling about all of this and her temples start to twinge with slight pain.

—————————————

As soon as Portia and Julian arrive Rhemi greets them with a loving hug, but they immediately notice Sir Martin and a look of horror and confusion strikes their face. They only remember this man from the other day. But Rhemi explains the situation and they change their attitude quickly, happy for their friend for being reunited with her long lost father.

The Devoraks do their very best to be kind and friendly to the Archmagister, evening apologizing for their behavior (even though they did nothing wrong). Julian introduces himself with a small bow as he reaches his hand to offer to shake it. But Sir Martin slightly turns his nose up at the commoner and waits a grueling amount of seconds before finally taking his hand with only saying almost sarcastically, “Charmed…”.

Portia bows as well, and even puts donns her diplomatic hat being a chamberlain herself now, in attempts to easily converse with him on a relatable level. But the old magician just smirks and quietly chuckles at her attempt to presume that her position, a chamberlain to a mere Countess was anything like being a head chamberlain and Archmagister to a very wealthy and powerful monarch. Nevertheless Martin does at least take her hand and kisses the top of her knuckles and even says, “How do you do.”

As all four sit down and get settled and the tea is being brought out and being poured. The inescapable tension was relentlessly building with the silence. A servant pours the Archmagister’s tea and sets down a plate of biscuits in front of him and he mutters in an irritated manner, “Please, do wear gloves, girl. I don’t want to see your revolting cracked hands when you're handling my food.”

The poor servant’s face turns red with humiliation and she hasilty hides them behind her back. “Y-yes Sir… My apologies, Sir Alarie.”

Baffled at his rudeness, Rhemi, Julain and Portia stay quiet and glance over to Nadia, who stares at the old foreign diplomat with her head gracefully tilted with a fake, yet amused grin. “Oh, and how do you suppose her hands became cracked in the first place, Sir Martin? My servants shouldn’t have to be ashamed that they work diligently for a living. For you to judge her for it all the while you have a silver spoon in your mouth… Well… Should I just say that is rather ignorant of you.”

It appears that Martin was about to retaliate with a snide comment back to her but Rhemi awkwardly fake coughs. “Thank you Claudia. It looks amazing. Please tell the chef thank you.”

Her interjection to smooth things over seemed to have shut her father up for now and the terrible silence takes hold yet again. Rhemi stirs her tea, making it the way she likes and tries her best to fight the flush warming up her face from her father’s behavior. A wave of dread washes over her as she takes a small sip and thinking perhaps she made a mistake introducing everyone to him like this today. It was rather sudden and last minute after all, and she didn’t expect him to act this way. In her mind, this would have been more like a fairy tale or a book, a long lost father reuniting with the heroine’s life at the end of the story and they all lived happily ever after… But then again…. this is reality, and fairy tales and books are in the end, just that. A story. Things don’t anyway go the way you want them to….

Finally, the Countess decides to make some small talk asking Portia about the reconstruction progress of the Temple district and the tension starts to finally subside a bit. Martin even engaged in the conversation at least with the parts about Charlès’ part in supplying raw materials such as iron, bronze, and steel. The conversation then went to Rhemi with the wedding planning, then to Julian and how his clinic was going…

“Things have been keeping me busy, that’s for sure! Lately it's been a lot of springtime cold, but nothing too serious…” Julian goes on taking a long sip of his tea.

“Mmmm. Interesting.” Martin attempts to engage in the conversation for his daughter’s sake. “Tell me Doctor, are you married?”

“No, actually…” But perhaps one day I’ll marry the person I love.”

“Hmmm I’m sure she’s just lovely…. Hope she doesn’t mind having many late nights by the sound of your business.”

“...Err... ’He’ actually.” Julian corrects him with a faint bit of red on his face with a love stuck expression.

But the old nobleman really chokes on his sip of tea and he bats his eyelashes, perplexed. “....Sorry?”

Julian’s left eye darts back and forth to him and Rhemi, shrugging his shoulders. “Ummm- Errr…. About-?”

“You correct me… And said...?”

“Yes….” Rhemi jumps in thinking her father just didn’t hear him right. “Ilya said ‘he’. Asra, the one you met yesterday. White-ish hair, also a magician. That’s Julian’s partner.”

A snide and almost vicious scowl contorts the man’s face. “.....So….. You are having relations…. withhhhhhhh….. another man?” Martin inquires further as he gives Beatrix a few berries.

“Yeeeeeeeeeeesss.” Julian replies, not understanding the issue here starting to furrow his brow as well.

“So you have a….. male… bbbbooooyfriend?”

Nadia whispers to her servant rather quietly, helpless to watch as this all unfolds in front of her. “... Pascal, do bring us a bottle of wine.”

“....Asra actually prefers to use the term partner.” Rhemi adds bring her tea to her lips. “He doesn’t identify with gender specific roles. He’s male leaning, but he’s non-binary.”

“Oh, good god…” Martin grumbles rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Before Pascal gets too far, Nadia tugs his sleeve, and whispers again with her nostrils flared. “Better make that two….”

The Archmagister catches a glimpse of his daughter's saddened face. He adjusts his sitting and swallows his opinions… badly. “I ah, see….” He takes a sip of his tea slowly swallowing it. “So….. Which, ah, which one of you takes it in the ass then?” He quickly adds, unable to help himself.

“PPPPPPFFFFT—” Rhemi slightly sputters in her cup at that, her eyes wide.

Portia nearly drops her teacup speechless at this comment. If this was in a tavern she’d have thrown his ass down by now. But her brother just smiles, calmly placing his tea cup down with a hard clank and leans in closer to the Archmagister. Despite his smug smile, it’s clear that he’s deeply offended. “Well…. I guess that depends on the night. Because we use a schedule. At least we don’t have something constantly shoved up our—”

BOOM!! CHATTER CHATTER!--

“—Ooooooookayyyyyy!!” Rhemi loudly interjects slamming down both of her hands on the table making everything rumble and shake as she nearly jumps to a stand.

“—Well, Nadia, it has been loads of fun, thank you so much for having us—but would you look at the time!” She quickly rants, pulling her father’s chair out then tugging his arm and pulling him out of his chair. “My father and I wanted to check out the library for a few things together, isn’t that right?” She says slightly gritting her teeth. “Didn’t we??”

“Oh… yes of course… If you would excuse us.” He begrudgingly complies with her lie and he bows to Nadia. “Countess…”

Nadia nods her head with a forced grin. “Archmagister….”

With that, Rhemi waves her friends ta-ta for now and nearly drags her father into the palace and straight to the library feeling so terrible for her friend right now.

As soon as they approach their destination silently, Rhemi opens the doors with a wave of her magic and nearly sprints in and shuts the doors behind her. For a moment, she presses her back against the double doors and sighs feeling relieved that she managed to escape that terrible scenario with one of her best friends and her father. A stone cold silence washes over the large room while Martin casually strolls about talking in the splendor of the stained glass windows. Unable to think of a way to tell her father what he had said was unacceptable, she continues to stay silently and decides to walk over to a mountain of books she was actually borrowing about Parka.  

“So… that went well—” Martin murmurs and Beatrix jumps off his shoulders and sniffs the couches scouring for some old crumbs. “Well, I am sure you had a reason to carry me away from good tea—”

Martin turns to look at his daughter, but he realizes she's no longer behind him. “R-....Rhemielia?”

Rhemi awkwardly rushes up a ladder, rummages through some more books in the section she was in before, trying not to look at her father. She doesn’t mean to give him a cold shoulder, but she really thought tea would have gone better. How could he have asked such a rude and homophobic question to one of her dearest friends? She loves that Julian and Asra are together, they just make sense in an odd way. Now that she thought about it, Rhemi didn't remember the last time she heard anyone mock someone else’s sexuality. Here in Vesuvia, and in most places of the world for that matter, people are incredibly open-minded and don’t bat an eyelash when someone is attracted to the same sex or both—No one really cares! And neither should they. It’s no one else’s business honestly. 

Martin notices her silence and he walks over to where she is. “Well, Pigeon. Your er-ummm.….choices in friends are…. well… rather curious—”

“—Heads-up.” Rhemi knowingly interrupts, throwing down a book and Martin catches after a little fumble with a bit of shock.

With the room quiet yet again, he stares at her as she tries to ignore him for a while. The only sound being made is Beatrix’s sniffing and his daughter flipping through the pages then places a book back on the shelf.

Martin lets out a sigh, as he conjures his magic into his hand, making the book levitate in the air so he didn’t have to hold it. Feeling a little annoyed at the moment, he straightens his cravat on his neck and begrudgingly asks. “.... Something on your mind, Rhemielia?”

Rhemi then kicks the ladder making the wheels roll a few feet away to hunt for a few books in a different section.

Her father following her at the end of the ladder. “Rhemielia?” He repeats.

Finally she huffs heavily heartedly and replies. “... Père, you don’t ask those questions to people.”

Martin just looks up at his child and scoffs with a half grin. “.... And why not?”

“W-Well…. It’s just… ahhh— well....” Rhemi fumbles over her words as she continues to skim through the books looking for that particular subject about genetics. “...Despite his openness, Ilya might not want to converse to a stranger about his intimacy… No one ask you about your sex life. You shouldn’t just make assumptions about his—or any of my friends for that matter.”

Martin fidgets in his spot, unable to remember the last time someone talked to him like this. “Perhaps not, but my sex life didn’t involve another man, Rhemielia…. Forgive me for being intolerant, but it’s just not natural and disgusting-.”

“Disgusting to you perhaps! And how is it not natural?” Rhemi quickly responds with her nose in another book. “... Most herd animals spend their time with other males except for breeding season and engage in sexual activities. Nope… already read this one.” She quietly mutters that last part to herself as she returns the dud book back.

Martin’s brow starts to furrow as he stifles the rage in the pit of his stomach with the thought of that. He can’t believe his only child is defending such behaviors. But he keeps his feelings buried, but just barely. “Humans aren’t filthy animals, Rhemielia…. at least most aren’t... And I really don’t believe a conversation about copulation with my long lost daughter is appropriate—”

“Too late—” She adds, handing him another heavy book, and he makes it float in the air as she slides down the ladder and faces him very boldly. “If that's the case, then isn’t wearing shoes, or undergarments, or overly fancy capes made from dead worm cocoons also deemed ‘unnatural’?.”

“Rhemielia, I really do think this highly distasteful topi—” Martin suddenly stops, eyes wide in bewilderment realizing what she had just said. “I-.... I’m sorry, did you just say, ‘dead worm…. cocoons’?”

“Yes.” She says with a very as-matter-of-fact look on her face.

Martin just stares at her, completely confused and looks down at his expensive garment. “Wha—??”

Instantly, Rhemi grabs one of her books her father is floating in the air and quickly flips through the pages. “Do-too-doo…. Silkworms, silkwoooorms… Ah! Yes—Right here.” Rhemi then takes a hold of her father’s fancy cape and shakes it with one hand while handing her father an open book with the other. “... ‘Silk is made from inorganic fibers that are made from creatures called ‘silkworms’. They’re found in places such as Parka and Nopal and other northern places. Silk is harvested by the cocoon that the silkworm makes. The worms are boiled alive while incubating in a said cocoon, then the thread is extracted so it can be woven into fabric.’..” She points to the left page as she turns around. “It’s all on page 194, paragraph eight.”

Rhemi then pulls out a spare biscuit and gives it to the poor hungry badger. The happy little animal takes it and scarfs it down, she even allows Rhemi to pet her gently on the head some more, no hint of aggression or mistrust.

Bewildered and with squinting eyes, Martin hastily skims the paragraph then tilts his head. “Hmmm… Well… that’s ah, fascinating?... I…. I suppose—However…. I believe I fail to understand what this has to do with anything, my little Pigeon...”

His daughter turns back around dropping her shoulders, the look in her eyes are almost hurt. He can’t help but admire how much she looks like her mother right now. “....Those people you meet today are my friends, Père. Really good ones in fact. I see now that Charlès must not be as…open minded?—Like the rest of the world. But these are my friends. Asra and Julian are in love and I really do think they belong together. So, please, at least for my sake, be nice to them...”

“A rather steep request to ask when your friends have such terrible lifestyle choices. I don’t agree with, I don’t understand how you—”

“—That isn’t a choice, Father.” She interrupts, collecting the books out of the air and placing them onto the table next to Beatrix still licking her little claws clean. “... And you don’t have to understand it in order to respect it.”

“..... Rrrrrrrrrespect it?” He snootily sneer, both eyes half closed.

For one reason or another this expression on his face makes her uncomfortable. “Well… Yes… At least for me. They are all a huge part of my life.” She says. Then, rather dramatic and ominous pause starts to take residence in this tense conversation.

“.... Hmpf… My god what has that witch done to you?” Her father says as he shakes his head slowly.

The man’s icy teal eyes pierce Rhemi like a freshly sharpened blade and she feels it cut her to her core. Obviously what she said has upset him. The longer he stares the smaller and smaller she feels under his gaze. But this is about her friends after all. They are practically a part of her family and they have fought by her and Muriel’s side, the least thing she can do is stick up for them.

She pushes down her uneasiness and puffs out her chest like she always does when she needs the confidence. “I…. I think I’ve always been this way. Perhaps you just didn’t notice.”

Beatrix suddenly jumps off the table and hides underneath it abandoning her precious biscuit. And a strange, yet powerful tense energy fills the room. It feels like a low rumble almost like an earthquake, yet nothing in the room is shaking or rattling. But Martin’s cold eyes are fixed on his daughter, increasingly becoming more intimidating as he just glares, visually trying his best to keep himself from contorting his face in disgust.

At last his eyes leave his poor daughter and she can feel her body start to unclench as he glances to his gloved hands, clicking his tongue before speaking. “I fear that the sinful place has tainted you, my dear….” His face softens when his head lifts back up to look at her once again, a half fake smile on his face. “But, fear not, we’ll correct that in due time.”

Rhemi’s eyes flutter with that last comment almost afraid to ask. “....What do you—”

“—Oi! Rhemiiiiii!!” The large double doors creak open and Portia calls from the library entrance. “It’s four o’clock!”

“—OH! CRAP! I’m late again!” Suddenly Rhemi runs up to her father a quick hug and gives him a peck on the left cheek. She can feel his shoulder stiffen as she embraces him, taken back with her rather loving affection despite the tense conversation that was just had. But his face softens, icy glare deteriorates like snow melting away on a warm spring day as he hugs her back. “Sorry, I have to get back to the shop before five. I have a rheumatism potion I have to finish before a customer comes for it this afternoon.”

“Oh. I see. You’re a busy one I see...”

“Yeah. Guess so.”

“.... Could I see you tomorrow then, perhaps for tea? I must attend a trading meeting after that, and I believe Portia… I believe it was?... She will be there too.”

“Oh…. umm, Y-yeah… Sure! That’s fine. That’ll be great.” Oddly, she’s unable to stop the feeling like she’s fibbing when she says that, her eyes avert towards the large stained glass windows.

Perhaps, tomorrow won’t be as bad as this afternoon… She thinks to herself. Yeah—He’s just not used to people who are different from him, that's all—Yeah!.... He just might need some more time, get to know them all. I’m sure he’ll come around... Realize that he’s wrong about them.

“See you tomorrow then.” As she turns to leave, Martin keeps a hold of her left wrist. She pulls it back instinctively, but her father squeezes even harder, almost too tightly.

“Rhemielia, my child?”

She cranks her head back around, that sincere and pleading expression returning to her father’s face. “...Aren’t you tired of brewing potions for mere pocket change?”

What? What kind of question is that? Puzzled at this question she tilts her head and asks, “.... I’m sorry?”

“Do you really want to be working all your life in that dusty little shop?”

For a moment she ponders on this thought. She never thought about it to be honest.

As Rhemi tugs her hand once again to take it back, thinking a little harder on what he asked. Yet, he doesn’t let go. In fact, his grip actually tightens around her wrist, and it starts to hurt her. Her face starts to bead sweat, her temples pulsate with twinges of pain yet again and she feels her stomach drop. “P-Père, you’re—you're hurting me.” She whimpers.

Blankly he slowly blinks, as if he didn’t hear her.

“P-Père?.... My wrist… You’re hurting it.”

Finally he glances to her small wrist before finally letting it go. “Ah… Ahem—My apologies, my sweet Pigeon.”

Once Rhemi's wrist is finally released, she stands there rubbing it a bit with her opposite hand. Her skin slightly stinging from his firm grip and the friction of the leather gloves. She didn’t like it when people held her too hard like that, it made her feel so uncomfortable, like she was vulnerable and weak. But she never felt her head ache like that before.

After the stinging dissipates, she places her hands to her side and she sheepishly replies, “.... Well… the shop me and Muriel’s livelihood. How else am I supposed to live?”

An entertained chuckle erupts from the Archmagister’s lips and Beatrix climbs his arm and rests across his shoulders. “Why, back home with me in Charlès of course. You’ll live much more comfortably there. I want you to rejoin the court… back with me.”

Lost for any words, Rhemi stands there feeling like an explosion had just gone off in her head. “Back home… to Charlès?” She repeats.

Her father adjusts his cane, making a faint clank while he straightens back up, puffing his chest out and nodding. “You’re conflicted I see. I half expected you would be. It is a rather bold question for me to ask when we’ve only been reunited for two short days….. Don’t worry, you don’t have to answer me now… just think about it, Rhemielia.”

“O-.... okay. I will.” Uncomfortably she replies, her head now spinning. Finally she shakes out of her own thoughts and smiles awkwardly. “Goodnight, Père… I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, my little Pigeon…. Think about what I said.”

“I… I will….” She mumbles as she shuts the door leaving the Archmagister alone in the library with his familiar.

Beatrix sniffs the air cautiously. “Master angry at Pigeon?”

Martin takes a deep breath as he tries to stop his anger and magic from overflowing. “This is all Phara’s doing, Beatrix... That fucking cunt of a witch… Teaching my child such disgusting tolerance for filthy homosexual deviants. That’s precisely why the rest of the world is behind Charlès, Bea. They let perverted cock-sucking fools muck about and run things… this city was nearly all in ruins just a year ago. And that is all because of these fucking liberal fools...” 

Trying to calm his anger he takes one of the books Rhemi was reading through in his hands and it bursts into purple and green flames with his magic and he watches with gratification as it burns into dust.

“The world outside of Charlès is disgusting…..” He says picking up one of the books she was reading in disgust. “...It isn’t Rhemielia’s fault she doesn’t remember better… Surrounded by such books, people… and ideals about a backwards way of living. Deprived of morals or sensibility. I will just have to…. remind her of what the correct morals are.”

✨To be continued...

**April fools =P Sorry I had too! XD

Anyways! Thanks so much for reading my hot garbage! I hope you guys didn't mind the very very long chapter! 

For all you thirsty trash pandas, the smut will be next chapter *wink wink*

**Agrippa (the baker’s apprentice) belongs to @victorscribbles

[painting-wings]

SCANDAL | 4 |

Words ~ 1k 

Masterlist 

Chapters ~ Three | Five 

A/N : Chapter 4 is here! Hope you guys like the story so far and things are starting to heat up... 👀  If you are enjoying this story please give it a like :) 

*All characters / events in this story are completely fictional* 

It had been a week since you told Taehyung about the picture and he still talks about it to you, teasing saying that you will be in trouble. What really sparked your anxiety was when you sat in one of the practice rooms with them and Cho-hee came up to you.

“I know your secret” she whispered, your heart stopped, looking at her wide eyed, “what do you mean? I don’t have secrets” laughing nervously. She playfully hit your arm, 

“Oh come on you know, your instagram” 

At that moment all the colour drained from your face, the secret fan account you were done for, before you could explain yourself, Cho-hee showed you, your personal instagram that was on private. Relief washed over you “I have been wanting to follow you for a while now but I couldn’t find your insta” 

“Oh yea...I didn’t think that anyone would want it so I never gave it out” you said unlocking your phone to accept her request. Looking at how many followers she has you was amazed, “you have a lot of followers” 

“Yea, a lot of people mainly ask for pictures of the boys...I have done other groups as well but for now I’m here for the upcoming tour, hey! Let’s take a selfie together and post it” Cho-hee held up the camera, quickly sorted out your hair and held up a peace sign while pursing your lips together to blow a kiss. 

“That was cute!” Cho-hee squealed, she posted the picture and within a few minutes your phone was blowing up of likes, comments and follow requests, turning the phone on silent, you didn’t see Taehyung hovering over your shoulder. 

“y/n..your popular”

“Tae! Oh no I took a photo with-”

“Hmm I know, I saw also next time don’t take a picture in front of the mirrors” 

Confused at what he said looking back onto the picture you could see the boys in the back practicing...that's why your phone was blowing up. Curious you decided to read the comments on the picture. 

‘OMG! CAN ANYONE SEE THEM IN THE BACK’

‘Who is the other girl?’ 

‘JIMIN! YOU LOOK SO HOT 😍 ‘ 

‘The BTS crew feeding us TODAY THANK YOUUUU’

‘I wish I had their job…’ 

‘Jungkookie looks so hot’

‘ ARE THEY SHIRTLESS?!!!! 😱 ‘ 

‘WE NEED MORE PICTURES’ 

‘Post more please’ 

‘Ew I wanna see BTS more than these two get out of the picture’ 

The last comment hurt a little bit, but you knew with working with this job people are going to be jealous of you. Now you understood Tae’s words and he was right next time think about where the picture is being taken. 

“Hey y/n” looking up you saw Namjoon waving you over, walking over to the boys, “did you want to come to dinner with us?” 

Your brain stopped working for a second as you had to process that information...did Namjoon, THE Namjoon ask you to dinner with the rest of BTS. 

                                                        ***

It was weird sitting in a restaurant with BTS, everyone chatted quietly, sat next to Namjoon on one side and the other was Jin, in front of you was Jimin while Jungkook was next to Namjoon and Tae, Hoseok was either side of Jimin.  

As you took a sip of your water, Namjoon was asking you about your home country and why did you want to come and work in Korea. 

“Well I have always loved music and I have always been interested in other cultures' music, I fell in love with Korean pop because it spoke to me in a way other music didn’t”  Namjoon was looking at you with so much interest, it felt like a dream. If you were brave enough you would’ve leaned in and kissed him right there but...you weren't. 

“Also Korea is such a beautiful country” you added as Namjoon smiled at you, 

“Yea it is, I do love my country, I really want to go to your country y/n” 

“Really why?” 

“Because I want to see what your music is like” 

You laughed as he looked at you with confusion “no my countries music is so cheesy..with wannabe boy bands and girl groups also the solo artists don’t really care about their fans only the money”  

Namjoon laughed too “okay...I guess I believe you but please show me some music sometime and I can judge it” you nod in agreement as the food arrives. 

Steaming hot bowls of noodles, variety of meats, vegetables and the strange combination that Jungkook was eating that you didn’t want to know. You weren't very skilled with the chopsticks as you kept dropping your food, making the boys giggle at you, in the end you stabbed the piece of food with one of the sticks. 

“Hey y/n like this” Hoseok said as he slowly showed you how to hold them, still looking confused Jin leaned over and held your hand, showing you were to place your fingers, that night you laughed so much, it had felt like you’d had been friends with them all your life. 

                                                               ***

 AhnJong called you to her office, panic set in as you thought you did something bad, break into a nervous sweat as you stood at her door. Knocking hesitantly walking into the cold room, she sat elegantly at her desk but has a serious face, “Y/n come and take a seat” walking to the chair you sat down waiting to hear the worse “bts are going on tour in a months time and I need to know are all your travel documents up to date?” 

‘Yes they should be” 

“Good, now there are rules about tour” You mentally groaned, more rules? How many can there be?

“When on tour you have to stick to a strict schedule, no talking to anyone who isn’t a part of the crew, stadium staff. Avoid any fans, press also no leaving your room after the curfew time” you take in all this information mentally hoping that you remember. 

“Yes I fully understand” you reply as you are allowed to leave, standing outside the door you sigh a relief, now going back down to the practice rooms. 

On your way down you walk into Jimin, “Hi Jimin” you smile as he gives you a wave, “Y/n are you excited about the tour starting soon?”  

“Of course and you must be excited right?” you ask as Jimin gives you a small laugh, “Tour is exciting and tiring. Are you heading back?” 

“Yea I am” 

Both of you just walk back to the practice rooms, part of your brain is mentally screaming at Park Jimin walking with you, you keep your cool as you don’t want to keep looking at him as you steal side glances at him, but that doesn’t go unnoticed, Jimin lets out a small giggle, making your cheeks flush which causes you to freak out more. “Y/n your so cute” 

“Huh? What” 

“aha..I said you're cute, so Y/n who is your bias?” 

“Sorry?” you as in shock did Jimin really ask you this question, 

“Who is your bias” his smirk grew on his face as your blush darkened,

“Erm.. I like you all equally”  by this point Jimin groaned, 

“Y/n come on I won’t tell the others” it was almost like he was flirting with you, in your head you knew this can’t be real and it’s some dream and you will wake up any second. Shaking your head you quickly walked away from Jimin. 

                                                                ***

TODAY IS TOUR  DAY 

It is currently 2am and you're standing outside of a plane, waiting to board. You soon learn that crew members and the group travel separately, still half asleep and not sure where you should be Cho-hee is full of energy and bouncing around you, “I’m so excited! Y/n are you excited too?”

“Yes Cho-hee I am I really need to sleep”

“Sleep is for losers” she said running off to go talk to another member of the crew, checking your phone, you see a message from Taehyung.

‘y/n why don’t you come fly with us?’

‘Tae I’m not allowed, airport paparazzi will get suspicious’ 

‘ :( ‘ 

‘Don’t worry I’m staying in the same hotel’ 

You finally got to board the plane and now you was chilling in your seat, looking out of the window you felt content with yourself and also super excited to be on tour, you inner fangirl was losing her mind, taking a quick picture you posted it to your snapchat as well as secret insta. 

Strangely you felt like you were living a double life with the fan instagram account, which you pray that it never gets leaked that's why you log out of the account whenever you're around the crew or the rest of the boys. 

After a few hours you finally landed in C/n, taking your thing you and the crew walked through the airport getting closer to the doors you felt overwhelmed by the amount of people, camera and fans standing waiting for a glance of their idol, before you got off the plane you was instructed by the other crew members to wear a mask, a hat and keep your head down. 

When the doors opened it was like you were in a lightning storm the amount of lights going off at once, the fans asking about the boys, one name caught your attention, you looked out to the crowd quickly as you thought you heard your name being called but it was probably nothing. 

Flopping down onto the soft hotel bed you felt glad to finally be in a safe space, laying there on the bed in the silence just gathering your thoughts. That was short lived when your phone went off reading the message form Hoseok, ‘Y/n what room are you in? We are going for food, did you want to come? :D ‘ reading Hoseok’s message was like hearing him speak it radiate positivity. 

‘I’m in room 1343’ 

‘Okay I will be up soon!’ 

Smiling to yourself you decided to check your instagram, going through the feed there were the typical images that were on instagram, and you noticed that your image had gotten the normal attention, you started to read the comments.

‘Beautiful picture’

‘Are you excited for the comebacks this year?’ 

‘Living your best life xx’ 

‘Are you in C/n?’ 

‘Was you at the same airport as BTS?’ 

‘Are you a part of the BTS crew?’ 

The last two comments worried you as you never showed your face on this instagram or what you looked like in general but you decided to answer the comments and leave it how it was, that until one comment sent you through the roof. 

‘Are you a sasaeng?’ 

[ice-cream-nekogirl]

lay us down, we’re in love (Tokoyami Fumikage X Reader)

I’m a slut for fluff!! I wrote this because I was going through an existensial crisis!! And I thought about Tokoyami, he’s one of my favorites... and this song is so soft and romantic and it reminded me of him!! That and I can’t stop listening to Brendon Urie’s beautiful voice...

SO PLEASE ENJOY THIS!! This also features Taromaru!!

Summary: Time’s moving too fast for your liking but Tokoyami’s love for you remains the same.

Wintertime was a season you were oddly fond of. It was nice and chilly outside, which meant you could just cuddle up in the warm blankets and get close to people you actually cared about, all the while enjoying a nice hot beverage.

You smiled and sighed in content as you opened the window to feel more of that cool air filling the empty common room, and made your way to the couch to snuggle into your favorite (D/S) blanket. As happy as you were getting comfortable, at the same time you felt a little bit sad knowing that another year had gone by and now you were starting all over without a clue what to do.

However, you didn’t want to think too much about that, you just wanted to get comfortable and feel the cool air in the room while you were wrapped up in your blanket, watching American Horror Story on Netflix. Something about Netflix that made you forget about the fact that January was already almost over and that it was still fucking 2020...

That was a disgusting thought... how could it be 2020 already? How could January almost be over already? How could Winter almost be over? Ugh you hated how fast time was moving and you just wished that you could be trapped in some never-ending show where time didn’t matter...

“Woof, woof!” The sounds of barking made you perk up as you saw Taromaru looking up at you with his adorable eyes as you giggled a bit and patted the couch to encourage him to jump up. Standing on his little hind legs, the puppy launched himself upwards and quickly made himself comfortable in your lap. “Hee-hee you’re one of the best things I ever got Taromaru...” You said rather lovingly to your puppy as he yawned happily while he lied in your lap.

That’s right... you got Taromaru as your new puppy. Before him you also found yourself the most wonderful boyfriend in the world. He was a little on the gloomy side but you were pretty gloomy at times yourself so it worked out perfectly. 

And from the corner of your eye you could see said curious boyfriend emerge from the shadows of the dim hallway, clearly, he was looking for you since you weren’t in your dorm-room.

“Hey Fumi~.” You waved to him with a smile to let him know that you weren’t oblivious to him being there, and he pretended to look not surprised and resisted the urge to shiver when he felt how cold it was in here.

Oh, the window was open. That’s right, he knew how much you enjoyed getting warm in the cold…

“Good evening (Y/N).” He said in that deep voice that made you feel things… especially when he said your name. It took quite a while to get him to call you by your first name instead of your last name, but you got him to, and you fucking loved hearing him say it. And he was only partially oblivious to this as he looked right at you with such intense eyes that withheld curiosity.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He assumed, since he was well aware that you didn’t have the best sleep schedule, because he didn’t really have the best sleep schedule either. It’s why he was up too.

You chuckled somewhat shyly as you nodded, “Yup… so I’m just sittin’ in the dark, watching AHS with Taromaru… maybe it’ll help me go to sleep.” Sighing, you looked pretty relaxed and then patted the spot next to you, gesturing for your avian boyfriend to come over and sit with you. Tokoyami took this offer without hesitation, while he certainly wasn’t the most expressive type, he didn’t miss a chance to be with you. You two had been together for over a year, and Tokoyami hoped that it would stay that way for quite a while. 

Sure he was a hero of the night and a creature of the darkness, but you were a constant source of light for him and you were never far away from him. He didn’t enjoy being too far away from you because you always brightened up his cloudy days and his darkest nights.

Not only that but he loved this show, it literally had ‘Horror Story’ in the title, plus it was American. America made some pretty classic horror movies, and all of these seasons never ceased to amaze him. Asylum was his favorite, and to his delight you were watching the first episode of the second season. “This will never not be the best season… but murder house is pretty close…” You thought outloud as he nodded.

“The first season was shrouded in mystery, and there was no way the audience could predict what could happen or what had happened until everything would unfurl. But Asylum is a grim representation of the darker nature of humanity and the madness that lies within.” Tokoyami wasn’t one to speak much, but he did whenever someone actually shared one of his interests, and you were the lucky one who got to hear him actually share, show and tell his opinions.

“Ohh yeah…” You tried not to giggle at how dramatic he sounded, because you agreed with him, “Ain’t that the truth? It’s so wicked~. But I love Coven too~.” You sang-songed a little bit, and the raven had to agree that Coven was also a really good season. It had witches in it!

Although he couldn’t fight the blush heating his cheeks when you leaned against his shoulder and nuzzled him a little bit. He was so glad he had the feathers to hide his blushing so he was less transparent, but at the same time he was certain that somehow you knew when he blushed. Still, he was able to be a little more open around you, it’s what he adored about you. He could be him with you, because for some reason, you liked him even when he was a bit of an oddball who enjoyed these kinds of shows.

Of course, you liked these kinds of shows too and you were an oddball too, it’s why you and him got along so well. Birds of a feather watch horror shows together.

You hummed in content as you watched the first three episodes of Asylum with your dear Tokoyami, giggling when Dark Shadow came out to lay down his head onto your shoulder and you happily pet him, much to his host’s annoyance. 

“Arf~.” Taromaru then had to stand and put his paws on your chest so he could reach up to lick Dark Shadow’s beak. You quietly cooed when the shadow giggled and pet the puppy, “Who’s a good doggy? Whose a good doggy?!” 

Tokoyami sighed in annoyance when his shadow just had to play with the puppy. Now it’s not that Tokoyami disliked Taromaru, in fact he did find the pup rather cute, but stealing his underwear was certainly NOT cute at all, and then sometimes it felt as if the puppy deliberately stole your attention away from him on purpose.

Including right now as you seemed enthralled in watching Taromaru happily whining under the shadow’s surprisingly soft petting and you just found it adorable. “Awww~...” You shamelessly cooed even if your boyfriend wasn’t amused.

Still, Tokoyami kept close to you and he was happy you shared your blanket because it was really cold in here. He wasn’t a physical person, but he felt comfortable being near you, and touching you, being so close to you made him feel warm inside as you hugged his arm.

As tempting as it was to stay warm with you holding him and watch another episode, it was about to be two o clock and you knew that someone might wake up and catch you both still up at this hour.

At least it gave Tokoyami the excuse to make his quirk retreat, and as he stood up he felt a little more tired than he was earlier. And you gave a rather vocal yawn as you tiredly stood up from the couch and made sure to close the window, “Mmmkay… I’m goin’ to bed now…c’mon Taromaru...” You mumbled, and yet you moved over to the raven and put your hands on his shoulders as Taromaru perked up with a bark.

“Lead the way…”

This somewhat surprised Tokoyami, but he knew what you were getting at. “You wish to sleep in my room tonight?” You said you were going to bed, but didn’t specify you were going to YOUR bed…

“Yeah!” Despite being sleepy, apparently you had enough energy to chirp out an excited but quiet ‘yeah’, and Tokoyami couldn’t help but sigh as he wordlessly led you to his room while your puppy followed. Although the inside of his room still embarrassed him, you didn’t mind it at all. You thought his room was awesome because you were into that gothic stuff, sure some of it was a little edgy, but it was still cool!

He had a freaking sword just like Game of Thrones!

“Fumikage you’re my dark angel…” You smiled drowsily at your boyfriend, and he refused to let himself get so flustered at your flattery. “Get into bed (Y/N), it’s late.” He said a bit firmly, but only so you could go to sleep already because it was clear you were tired. His face was hot over the fact that he was going to share his bed with you, but he wasn’t going to just kick you out of his room. He was always your gentleman and he wouldn’t dream of kicking his girlfriend out of his room.

“Okey~…” Without complaint you got under his covers and already got comfortable and took your own blanket under with you just in case you wanted to put it at your feet. Tokoyami then shakily sighed as he forced himself to get into his bed with you in it. This was no problem he was just getting into his bed with his very cute, very sweet girlfriend in it…

He swallowed hard as he got into his bed and realized that he was lying down right next to you, and did his best not to tremble but ultimately failed. Somehow lying right next to you was a little bit different than just sitting right next to you. Calm down, calm down… he wasn’t going to get so nervous about this, but oh gods it was too late…

“Woof!” 

Oh Thank God for Taromaru. The puppy made himself at home in the room and climbed onto his bed, but instead of taking your attention he just happily lied at the foot of the bed and circled himself into a ball as he gave a little yawn.

So much for that help...

“Awwww...” You did coo at your sweet little puppy, but then you diverted your somewhat flirtatious eyes back on Tokoyami, who immediately felt the nerves now that your attention was back on him.

Even when tired you weren’t completely oblivious to your poor boyfriend’s nerves so you smiled a little bit and held his hand, turning to face him as his eyes widened a bit when they looked into your (E/C) eyes and you suddenly started to softly sing.

“Hello darkness my old friend… I’ve come to talk with you again…”

“Hello~.”

And Dark Shadow popped out from under the covers and sang, making Tokoyami jump ever so slightly as he glared at his shadow for coming out without permission. But Dark Shadow didn’t pay him no mind, he loved singing with you and happily snaked right beside you as you giggled and kept on singing with the shadow.

“Because a vision’s softly creeping… left it’s seeds while I was sleeping…”

Despite Tokoyami’s annoyance with his quirk, you just kept on singing as the shadow nuzzled you as you happily sang with him. Tokoyami would have been entertained by your oddly comforting voice if not for his shadow hogging you and singing with you…

“And the vision that was planted in my brain still remains within the sound…”

Almost getting lost in the song you and Dark Shadow sung along as you nodded your head along with him, but then you and he came to a pause at the last part and turned to face Tokoyami with smiles on your faces. The raven resisted the urge to sigh as he had no choice but to humor you both.

“Of silence…”

Tokoyami softly sang the last two words as you couldn’t help give a little squeal and snuggle up to him when he did it! He sung the song! Two words but still! You were happily nuzzling your now flustered Tokoyami as he trembled a little more and tried not to glare at how comfortable Dark Shadow looked just resting on you like that.

As comfortable as you looked petting the shadow, and having Taromaru resting happily at the edge of the bed, for some reason you still couldn’t bring yourself to fall asleep and Tokoyami knew. “What’s the matter?” He was aware that you were very sleep-deprived and he had no doubts it’s because you couldn’t sleep, however there was always an underlying reason to it and he felt the need to try and help you with that.

Sighing, you rested your head on the pillow and stared up at the ceiling, hand still stroking the top of Dark Shadow’s head as he purred. “Can I ask you a bit of a personal question?”

“Of course you can.”

That question made him a little bit nervous, but the raven nonetheless would hear you out. “Do you ever just wish time would stop? So you can just have a goddamn break? I swear… every second passes and it feels like I’m just slowly getting more and more ancient… and then I think too hard on it and begin to wonder just what the point is and why I’m even here. I mean… you know… I’ve always had a lot of self-doubt, and people who liked to make me feel low… sometimes I think I am low, and then I think about just where I am in life and contemplate if it’s good enough. You know me I’m an overthinker and once I think about that I can’t stop…” You admitted, and you didn’t see the thought swirling in your boyfriend’s eyes.

He understood your words, even if they were a tad bit depressing, he knew and understood that. In fact, he wasn’t ashamed to say that he’s had thoughts like that too whenever he in particular felt like he wasn’t very successful in a particular endeavor, or when the things he hoped for weren’t here yet even when he desperately wished for them to come sooner so he wouldn’t have to wait anymore.

Along with the occasional existential crisis Tokoyami, like many an edgy teenager, felt on a somewhat daily basis whenever he felt any of those things. Why was he even here? He didn’t know why, but then again, being with you reminded him that maybe he was here for a reason.

“That’s a hard question to answer.” He replied truthfully and you chuckled with a small nod, “But everything happens for a reason, isn’t that what you like to say? I believe it’s true. Everything does happen for a reason.” Tokoyami remembered you always saying that everything had to happen for a reason, and he found himself starting to believe that. There had to be a reason, he knew there had to.

“You found Taromaru for a reason. You and I started dating for a reason…” He trailed off that last part a little awkwardly as you giggled a little bit, “Because I couldn’t resist you, you’re just so handsome and sweet~.” You grinned a little as you could see Tokoyami’s feathers starting to preen as he started to get flustered. That reason he didn’t understand, but didn’t argue with it because it made him feel good.

“S-See? There’s a reason for everything. There’s a reason why we are here, there’s a reason why I’m here at UA. I understand what you’re feeling. I too have had people tell me before that I wouldn’t qualify as a decent hero because of my dark quirk.” You couldn’t help but frown when you thought about it. Tokoyami didn’t necessarily have the easiest childhood and you knew it because he had told you about it in private so you felt so bad that your dear raven had to go through all of that.

“I’m… sorry Fumi. I’m sorry that they made you feel that way.” And you couldn’t help but apologize to him, but he didn’t really seem all that saddened thinking about it.

“There’s no need to be sorry. If I was never told those words, I never would have realized that I want to be a reliable hero and let people know that they don’t need to fear the dark. I never would have worked hard enough to make it into UA, I never would have met our classmates, and I never would have met you.” The raven continued with a thoughtful gaze that he gave to you. He would always be honest with you, and so he felt just a little less flustered as he confessed that he felt that this the reason he was here, because he was meant to meet you. That you and he were meant to meet.

You could feel your face turning hot at such a humane confession and how surprisingly optimistic your boyfriend sounded about everything. Wow, you had never thought about it like that. Now you were starting to believe that maybe that was true, that you were meant to meet your Tokoyami and be with him because of how everything you’ve been through led to being with him.

With flushed cheeks you tried not to snicker and smile but you couldn’t help it, “God… Fumi… people always say Todoroki’s the heartthrob… but I think it’s you… way to make a gal feel special…” You sounded very touched as you had to lean in to kiss him on the beak as he perked up and grew even more flustered. 

A contrast to how calm he had looked as you giggled when his feathers floofed up a bit. “I think… you’re right… that has to be the reason… makes everything… all the bullshit… worth it. I’ve got my reason right here.” You warmly said as she had to cuddle up closer to him and Tokoyami felt a little bit warmer having you so close to him.

“Me too.” Was all he could bring himself to say as you sighed in content, “Sing with me Fumi~.” You weren’t quite tired yet, but a nice little song would definitely do the trick and Tokoyami didn’t complain as he let you start humming.

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2yu6W0rss2o)

“Whether near or far, I am always yours… Any change in time we are young again…”

The raven held you in his arms as he sang this song for you, it was his song to you. He never wanted you to feel like you weren’t worthy of love, no matter how fast time moves, he would always be yours.

“Lay us down… We're in love... Lay us down... We're in love…”

It took all your willpower not to tear up as you thought about Brendon and your sweet boyfriend as you gladly sung and harmonized with him. God you loved Panic! At The Disco, their songs moved your heart, but when Tokoyami sang their songs, it moved your heart just a little bit more.

“In these coming years many things will change, but the way I feel will remain the same…”

He wasn’t Brendon Urie, Tokoyami knew he would never be Brendon, that man was a God, but he could at least try to be your Brendon. And you were his Sara. The one he always wanted to see smile, and he would make sure that he could be the one to make you smile. And for once he didn’t have any caveats when Dark Shadow remained cuddled up at your side and purring into you affectionately. 

“Lay us down… We're in love... Lay us down... We're in love…”

You were smiling the entire time as your eyes slowly started to close as you rested your head on his shoulder and hugged his arm, and Taromaru was cuddled up at your legs. “Good night Fumi~.” You whispered your soft good nights to him when he finished the song you loved and Tokoyami sighed as he gave you a little smile when you looked at peace beside him.

“Good night (Y/N).” He whispered to you gently before his eyes started to close and for once in a while, he was able to fall into a peaceful sleep because he was lied down right next to you. Still very much in love with you, and you were still in love with him.

Lay us down… we’re in love…

[boba-xing]

Captivating {Chapter 3}

Fem!Reader x Werewolf!Choi Seungcheol (SVT)

Warnings: sexual/dark themes

Tagged: @suhappysuho @captain-brie @seekerbabygirl @moon8894 @yippee-kay-yay @sehunnies-hunnie96 @lovinggalaxies @brokenbutchocolate

-

Peeling your eyes open, you realise you had fallen asleep and your clothes somehow crinkled without even being touched. You cast your mind back to the last thing that happened and frown.

You pull yourself up from the bed, making your way into the kitchen to search the fridge. Grabbing a yogurt and spoon, an uneasy feeling comes over you. You peel the plastic off and dip your spoon in, savouring the strawberry taste as you place it in your mouth.

You almost feel like you're being watched.

Shaking off the feeling, you reach over and turn on the TV, watching the latest news report.

"This morning, the long lasting scandal involving Han Seo Hee, Jung Da Eun and Shin Hoseok has finally showed signs of concluding. After Han's arrest, fans of the Kpop group Monsta X have been celebrating the news, however, Shin Hoseok has made no statement - leaving some fans to question whether he will be returning to the group after his unprecedented departure-"

You barely pay attention to the television, too focused on the unpleasant feeling of dread.

"In other news, serial killer Kim Jaeyeon has been found and arrested after his accidental release from prison last week, and is now facing a further life sentence-"

Making your way over to the window, you peer out at the road outside, unable to see anything suspicious through the trees on the other side. Yet you still feel watched.

Grabbing your phone, you feel the inclination to call Seungcheol, feeling he might help you. "Hi."

His voice, normally rough, answers the call sweetly, "How are you, love? You only left a few hours ago, are you okay?"

"Yeah." You answer quietly,

"What's wrong, princess?"

Your heart rate accelerates at the nickname, leaving you more anxious than you already were. "I know this sounds crazy but I feel like I'm being watched."

"Watched? Are you sure you're not just tired or something, love?"

"No, I feel really on edge, Cheol." You murmur, pulling your curtains shut with your spare hand,

"Want me to come over, princess?" he asks hopefully from the other end of the line. "I promise it's no inconvenience."

"Are you sure? I don't want to be a burden."

"You could never be a burden, love." You can hear him smile through the phone, "I'll be there in ten."

You say your quick goodbyes, get changed, and he arrives before you can wonder how he knew your address. You let him up and practically jump into his arms. He let's out a deep chuckle, "Good to see you too, princess."

Your cheeks heat up and you pull yourself away before you can get any more embarrassed. "Thank you for coming."

"Like I said, it's no problem." He smiles, letting you lead him into your living room area. His hands reach out to brush against a photo of you and your friends before he turns to look over the room. "You have a nice apartment."

"Thank you." You sit awkwardly on the sofa, hoping he'll sit down next to you and soon he does. "I know it's small but I like it."

"It's a lot nicer than a house full of crazy boys, I can tell you that." He grins. The reference reminds you of his strange behaviour that morning, his determination to make you stay. "I hope they didn't scare you too much."

"No, they were a little intimidating but it's okay. Josh was really sweet." You smile,

"Yeah."

"So..."

"I'm glad you invited me over, Y/N." He looks at you softly, "I'm glad you feel safer with me, it means a lot. I'm sorry things didn't go to plan the other night, I feel terrible for that."

"It's okay, Cheol, maybe next time we could just go out for dinner or something."

"Yeah. Actually, I'd really like that." Grinning, he glances around the room, "Do you have any board games?"

---

Five hours later you find yourself leant against Seungcheol's shoulder, tossing your cards on the coffee table in defeat. "Yeah, yeah, you win."

"Aw, come on, let's go again." He chuckles, gently stroking your hair,

"No, it's getting late, I shouldn't keep you here all day." You pout, "Plus I haven't won a single game and I don't think I can face another defeat."

"Don't give up, princess, I'll go easy on you." he looks at you, "And I really don't mind staying here all day, and night, the rest of the week to be honest."

You smile up at him, "Really?"

"Really." Before you can blink his lips are on yours, moving ever so softly, almost reluctant to scare you away. Your lips finally depart after what feels like decades, "I'm sorry, I should've asked."

"No, I-I liked it." You bite your lip, giggling against his lips as they find their way to yours a second time. You can't help the whirlwind of butterflies in your stomach, the shiver the travels up your spine and the warmth in your chest. His lips are so soft, you can't help but reach up and scrunch his shirt collar in your palm.

"Still want me to go?" he chuckles as you frantically shake your head, wrapping his arms around you to lift you up as he begins to stand, "Why don't we go get some sleep?"

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you let him carry you to your bedroom, relaxing into his touch as he places you down on the bed. He let's go to close the door and when he returns you're buried under the covers, waiting for him to cuddle you.

"You're so cute, and for what?" he grins, lying down next to your cosy figure and resting his arm over your side. You lean over and switch the lamp off, snuggling your face into his chest as his gentle breaths send you off to sleep.

---

You're woken up by a loud groaning noise, blinking the sleep out of your eyes as you look up at Seungcheol who clearly isn't happy with the lighting arrangement. You don't blame him; the curtains are so thin and pale the sunlight shines right through them, blinding him as he rolls over onto you.

"Seungcheol!" You whine, pushing against his chest as you begin to feel slightly crushed.

"Wha- oh, sorry, love." He murmurs, rolling back to where he was, "God, next time you're sleeping at mine."

"And being woken up by fifty screaming men? I don't think so." You pout, humming in content when his hand comes up to play with your hair,

"You're so beautiful." His eyes trace your face, laughing when you cover it with your hands,

"No no no, my morning face is gross, don't look at me."

"Shut up, your gorgeous, the most beautiful girl I've seen in my life."

"Stop!" You turn away from him, only to find yourself landing on the floor. You're cheeks flush with embarrassment, Seungcheol's hearty laugh filling the room.

"Are you okay, princess?" he leans over to see you,

"This is what I mean! I shouldn't be seen in the morning." You sigh, pulling yourself to your feet and making your way to the kitchen.

Large footsteps follow behind you, thick arms wrapping around your waist as you open the fridge. Your eyes scan over the large pot of yoghurt you eat from everyday and you pull it out, standing at the counter as you open it.

You're eyebrows furrow in confusion as you peel back the lid and find a small piece of paper folded to rest in the almspt empty pot.

"Do you normally keep paper in your yoghurt?" Seungcheol chuckles,

"What-no? How did this get in here?" You pull it out, unfolding it carefully. You already feel yourself getting faint as you read the note.

You look like an angel when you sleep, the way your hair hangs so perfectly over your face, how softly you breathe, the way you push your head into the pillow. Your so sweet, so innocent, a fragile body for me to corrupt. I can't wait to hear you scream my name, I can't wait to feel your nails claw my back as I wrap my hand around your throat, soft gasps as the air leaves your lungs. You're my favourite. Don't make me angry, ___. I don't want to see you with him again.

Y.

P.S. Did you enjoy the silence last night?

[my-name-is-luka]

Saturday — Dear Husband — Your apprentice’s wedding or married life

@gentapprentices

*TW: I wrote this at 5 am and idk it's bad I swear I wrote better things that this but I'm delivering this late and I wanted to already publish it and I'm so tired guys hhhhhhh*

_________

Sometimes people adopt childs on accident. This is no exception.

Now, Luka always thought that children were messy, noisy, annoying, and if given the option to have one he would most certainly deny it. He could barely take care of himself, how would he take care of someone who needs even more help and whose brain and body are still in development? It was hard, it was exhausting, and it was something he wouldn't do until he was mentally prepared to do.

But here he is, rain falling over him and the little girl next to him, leading her by the hand to the shop so she wouldn't have to sleep under the docks that night.

They met a few weeks ago, when he was practicing his magic at the pier. He was performing the spell almost perfectly, his mind focusing on the ocean and the water he just shifted into a ball, his whole being at peace. With keeping the shop, helping Nadia with the Masquerade, and getting enough supplies for the Julian's clinic he barely had any free time, which meant that only a short, calm moment alone at the dock felt like paradise.

"Sir, are you a witch?"

... and then the little girl came into the picture.

She asked a few questions about wizards, sorcerers, and magicians, about why his necklace glowed, about how he became a sorcerer, about how she could learn magic. She was Chiara, a seven-year-old who would usually be found walking on the docks, scamming the bystanders, or dealing things with the other kids. She was way to smart for her age, but Luka didn't consider it something good, because kids who are smarter than what's expected at their age usually were forced to use their wits to survive.

And so he went the monday, to tell her about his tribe and magic.

He went the tuesday, to tell her about his friends and his new life he made at Vesuvia when he first arrived.

He went the wednesday, to tell her about how he got closer to Asra and their life together.

He went the thursday, this time with Ieskat, to tell her about how they met each other, how to take care of a macaw, and how the bond between familiars work.

He went the friday, to teach her about how each person's magic is different and how to develop her.

He went the saturday, just the day she found out that all this time she's been talking to the man who saved the world, which means, a day full of questions about the battle against two goats and about how Countess Nadia, her idol, was out of the public eye.

Almost every day for the next weeks he would go to the docks, sit in a pier, and teach her about whatever she wanted to know until he had to go back home (which means, at the sunset). At first she was just that curious girl who would keep asking about things a normal person wouldn't know and by some reason he knew, then it was like a tired but emotionally attached master teaching a little kid how to contact water spirits and perform any kind of spells, and now they were walking into the shop, soaked from head to toes, exhaling a lungful of air at the feeling of water drops and cold going away.

"Love, we're home!" Luka yells across the room, taking off his boots and placing them next to the door, the child with him imitating his act. He hears steps in the kitchen before a smiling face greets him at the doorframe.

"We?" Asra asks, and shifts his gaze towards the girl next to him. His smile falters out of surprise, but just a second later he smirks again, moving towards the duo. "Welcome back." He says, giving his husband a short smooch before smiling at the child and looking suspiciously at his spouse. "Well? Won't you introduce us?"

"Oh, yeah, right away." He places his coat on a wall hook before joining once again the conversation. "Asra, this is Chiara, I told you about her, remember?" He nods, and the man looks at the girl. "Chiara, this is Asra, I also told you about him."

Asra extends his hand for the small, amazed person in front of him to shake, who both shyly and surprised takes it and gives it a firm shake before dropping it.

"Kiki, how about you go feed Ieskat? He should be in the backroom, he'll be glad to see you." He gives her a small pouch with almonds and palm nuts, sending her to the other end of the shop. When she's out of earshot he looks at Asra once again with a guilty smile. "Look, I know you may be mad at me, I wouldn't blame you if you were, but I swear I can explain this, okay?"

Asra looks at him, the smile decreasing but still there, an indecipherable expression in his face as he nods firmly.

"We both know that she lives at the docks, right? And we both know how dangerous is to be there during a storm, with the whole thunder-spreads-through-water-and-sand thing." He starts, looking into his spouse's eyes, hoping his message would reach him. "She's been doing her best to survive— stealing, lying, dealing, and she's only seven. I'm not saying that she should stay here forever, only for the night, and once the thunderstorm is over we could... I don't know, help her out or something, find a place and a family for her to live with. I knew her for four months already, and I just want her to be safe, I don't care the price or with who, just-" He tries to get the words out of his mouth, but when he realizes what he's going to say he freezes. Taking a deep breath, he keeps talking. "I care about her well-being, and if I can assure it, even for the shortest time, I'll do it. But I want to know if you're okay with hee staying here for the night."

The magician looks at him slightly surprised before smiling fondly, there was a reason they fell for each other, after all.

"For me that's fine. She can stay at the guest room, so she can have her own privacy. We'll try to make her as comfortable as possible, okay?" He nods with a grateful and equally fond smile. "Good. I have to keep cooking, you could start setting the table. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes."

"Can I help with something?" They both startle at the sound of a small, shy voice, whose owner is just walking down the stairs.

"We could set the table together, and if we have time I can answer some question you may have. Then Asra can tell you about our epic, fierce, treacherous experience saving the world by his point of view, yeah?" She giggles a bit at the exaggerated adjectives before following him into the kitchen.

What were supposed to be around ten minutes felt like just a few seconds, they slip like sand through his finger and all he has left are the sensations they provoked, but there was this second in which everything just stopped, and he could appreciate fully the scene rolling in front of him.

The table is already set, every glass, plate, and cutlery placed neatly on the tablecloth. There are a lot of different, enticing smells in the air— spices, salts, sauces, condiments. She was sitting on the counter, listening to Asra's (way more understandable than his) explanation of how tarot worked, shooting question after question, always eager to know more. Her eyes shine with amazement, her body unconsciously inclines towards his, and with every words she seems as if she was told the most important and fantastic secret ever. This was new information, after all, she hasn't been raised with magic users as they did.

The sound of rain and the grey color of the sky makes a perfect contrast with the room, making it look even warmer than before. There are small light orbs floating around in case Asra needed more illumination, each one of them of a different color and different brightness. Sometimes Chiara would get distracted looking at the orbs, moving like clouds through the ceiling of the room, or taking a look around the room full of things she never thought she might see in her life, but eventually she focuses her attention on the subject he's explaining her.

And so he smiles with a fondness he doesn't think he felt before at the place they made—. a safe oasis, in which the rest of the world, the past they tried to leave behind, and the problems they eventually would have to face were forgotten. Just the three of them, talking about random stuff, feeling like everything was okay for a few hours.

Chiara didn't only stay that night, she did the next one, and the next week, and the next month, and the next year. She had a home, after all, the first she ever made and the one she would value the most out of whichever that came next.

They were okay. They were home.

[wheremytwinwatches]

[Where My Twin Watches]: Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood Episode 16

Work continues to drive me crazy, so of course I make my life more complicated by getting online classes set up for the fall. That, and I kinda don’t want to see our babies learn about Hughes. Blissful ignorance, am I right? *sigh* Onwards with Brotherhood.

Do we have captions this time? We do! Awesome, it was so irritating last time not knowing if I was mangling names or not. We’ve got the second intro featuring the Xing contingent, curious how influential it’ll be having a foreign prince bopping along with the Elrics. (Also, I continue to be juvenile and giggle at one of the lyrics in the new song being “shite”. Hee.) We open up with a bird's-eye view of Central, then with Ed yawning at the train station. Al mentions that being spied on for hours is pretty tiring. Right, Ling’s ninja squad don’t trust the Elrics. But where’s the Prince? The Ninjas proceed to freak the heck out, Fu runs around the traintops calling out for the young lord as Lan Fan worries about him collapsing. Is Ling fainting a common thing, then? Ed just shrugs his shoulders at the absence of the freeloader and heads off with Al and Winry. Huh, music’s getting ominous. Oh, there he is, doing a Brooding Anime Rooftop Stare on the station’s clock tower, looking towards the center of the city. [Ling]: “Something about this country doesn’t feel right.” Well, the current speculation (backed by the freaking Fuhrer being a Goth!) is that they’re sacrificing people to make Philosopher’s Stones, so… don’t know much about Xing so can’t say if they’re any better, but it’d be pretty hard for them to be worse. Episode 16 - “Footsteps of a Comrade-in-Arms” In a run-down area of the city, a car stops and the blond-haired smoking guy (Havoc?) of Roy’s crew is checking in with the grey-haired member (I’ll get their names some day, I swear), dropping off food from the colonel. Oh, guess Grey’s been guarding Barry, who cheerfully recognizes “the smokin’ guy”. Not tied up and playing chess? Are they keeping him prisoner to try and get more info or more protecting their only source? Well, I suppose for a serial killer like Barry being kept inside at night and denied any chances to chop someone up would be uncomfortable. Still, Grey’s bored with the assignment, asks how much longer it’ll be. Havoc just says that Roy apologizes for the dangerous assignment, that Grey’s absence it being treated as sick leave… and if he’s seen in public by anyone he’ll get court-martialed. Yikes, ok then. No breaks for poor Grey. Any good news? [Havoc]: “Falman, I found myself a girlfriend!” ...well that’s nice and all for you, buddy, but I think Falman (thank you!) was looking for good news for him. Poor, poor Falman. Hey, it’s Ling! Taking another impromptu nap? A couple of cops are asking if he’s ok, he whispers about food… ah, trying for another free meal? Unfortunately for Ling, the cops less interested in feeding him and more interested in seeing his entry visa. Cue irritated cops dragging a crying Prince away. [Cop 1]: “Outta the way, everyone!” [Cop 2]: “Illegal alien coming through!” The Ninjas continue to freak over the absent master, while Ed says that they should stop by the military offices. Winry… decides to go straight to the Hughes’ house. Oh boy. [Winry]: “I can’t wait to see Miss Gracia and cute little Elicia!” Uuuuuugh. Make it stooooop. The Brothers are off to meet up with Hughes himself, while they think Hughes might have been stymied by Bradley’s orders to stand down they have info on the Homunculi now (and still don’t know the Fuhrer himself is one, gah!). Off to the court-martial office! Quiet somber music as the brothers run through the park. And right by the phone booth that Hughes was murdered in. Bleh this episode is not going easy. In the office, Sheska’s carrying around some books when another lady officer asks for a key to Room #3. Which freaks Sheska out, and she babbles about cleaning up the mess first? What, have you made that your private reading lair or something? Nope, not your lair it seems, but Colonel Mustang’s private napping chamber. Yikes, hope you had an alarm set, and it only wasn’t Sheska waking you that kept you from being late to a freaking Council Meeting. Wait, Council? I don’t think I’ve heard of that group before, I’m just assuming by the tendency for Anime Councils to be Big Deals that it’s the same in the FMA universe. The highest-ranking officers of the military? Sheska worries that Roy’s not getting enough sleep, he just waves her off and goes to the meeting. Staying up late doing research on the conspiracy, I gue- GAH new voice! Sheska freaks and identifies them as Captain Focker, who asks about the open storeroom and what Roy was doing. Uh oh, a watcher sent by Bradley? Double uh oh, in her concern for Roy’s state Sheska is telling Focker about how he seems to be researching the Fifth Laboratory. And the Hughes case. Bleeeeeh, more Hughes feels as Sheska gets sad about her getting her job through Hughes. Captain Focker walks away deep in thought, glasses obscuring his eyes. Uh oh. But then the looks up in surpr- That’s Captain Focker! Oh my Leto, that’s the real Captain Focker! Real Focker’s too busy looking at some piece of paper to notice a shapechange and red electricity as Envy takes on a new disguise. Shapeshifters: A security nightmare.

But it looks like Envy might have made a mistake, as Real!Focker’s now saying good morning to Sheska, who is rightly confused. A simple “Laugh at this clueless character” moment, or a break for the good guys? Roy’s washing up in a bathroom for this Council Meeting, takes a moment to stare mournfully into the mirror- until with a flush of a toilet his angsting is interrupted by The Mighty Armstrong, glinting manfully in his bandages while towering over the stall door. Hah! Armstrong remarks that Roy looks a bit peakish, who asks why Armstrong is bandaged. Oh right, Armstrong was involved in killing all of Greed’s human-chimera crew down South. He mentions that he ran into the Elrics down there, on their visit to their old teacher. But he couldn’t bring himself to tell them about Hughes. Armstrong makes his way out- [Roy]: “The Fifth Laboratory and the Philosopher’s Stone; the Stone’s key ingredients are live humans.” Armstrong comes to a halt. Roy continues about how Hughes died following up on the Elric brothers’ investigation, and how if/when they find out they’ll blame themselves. He says Armstrong not telling them was kind, and Armstrong compliments him on figuring out so much. But warns him that he never knows who might be listening. Riza’s waiting out in the hallway when Ed walks up and says hi, although he’s not as happy when Roy joins them. Oh yeah, Elric didn’t know about Roy’s promotion. Now if he’s hanging out in Central it’ll be the same place as good old Colonel Mustang. The sarcasm in Ed’s “Great” is astounding. As for the Elrics, they’re just doing some information gathering. And might pay Hughes a visit later in the day. Where is he, anyway? Roy… says that Hughes retired. Went out to the country with his family to run the family business. Really, dude? I get that it’s a sore subject, but the “he went out to the farm” excuse only works for so long. They deserve to know what happened. Well, with the false story the boys think that they should tell Winry, they spin around only to run into Lieutenant Ross. She asks about the rush, Ed mentions that they heard about Hughes… and Ross isn’t in on the “tell them the farm story” excuse. Oh boy. Uuuugh, the two conversations sliding right past each other here is painful! And here’s the kicker: [Al]: “He retired to the country and they promoted him?” Ross realises she did a no-no, covers her mouth to keep from saying anything else. And Ed realizes the truth. Mid-episode cards: Captain Focker with an Envy silhouette behind him, and a downcast Gracia Hughes on the second. Notable for both Narrator “Full-Metal Alchemists” being the sad, somber one. Out in the city, Winry’s shopping for apples, presumably to give to the Hughes’ family. And Ed races out of the building after hearing the new. [Lt. Ross]: “Brigadier General Hughes is dead… He was murdered shortly after you were discharged from the hospital, Edward. I’m afraid we still haven’t found the person responsible.” As he runs and cries, Ed blames himself for pulling Hughes into the investigation. Flashes of Happy Hughes and his family, a memory of Hughes seeing them off at the train station and inviting them to drop by again, hosting dinner, first meeting them and inviting them to his home… Al catches up with the suitcase and then stands there silently as Ed slumps against the wall. And now we’re with Winry, who’s arriving at the apartment. The door swings open- [Elicia]: “Daddy?!” Oh no, that’s fine. I didn’t need that heart anyway, go ahead and use it as a footrest show. The Elrics have arrived at the apartment building, when Al asks what they should do Ed tells him to go back, that he’s “the only one who has to take the blame for what happened.” Oh my Leto kid you have enough self-imposed guilt from Mama Elric and Nina, stop taking the weight of the world on your shoulders! Al argues that it’s on both of them, and double all my protests that Ed does not deserve this for his little brother as well. Ed tries to dissuade Al again- [Al]: “We made up our minds; We said we were getting our bodies back, no matter what. But if people are going to die because of that… then I don’t want mine back.”

Freaking A, Al. I cannot overstate how much damn respect I feel for you right now. You are a poor boy, trapped in a cold metal body from a horrible accident. Getting your body back has been your driving purpose, along with healing your brother. But when you discovered that the cost of making a Philosopher’s Stone was human sacrifice, you discarded the method. And when you discover that a friend has died in the process of helping your investigation, you are fully prepared to renounce your goal in order to protect others. I salute your selflessness. Gracia opens the door, and gives the Elrics the same sad smile that she gave Winry, telling the brothers that Winry’s already arrived. The mechanic’s sitting quietly in a chair with Elicia curled in her lap, she looks up with Ed quietly enters. Ed then asks to talk to Gracia and Winry about Maes. The quiet sad theme starts playing as Gracia recaps the Elrics’ message; that Hughes looked into the Philosopher’s Stone, and was killed as a warning against the brothers. Gracia looks down at sleeping Elicia, as Ed bows his head in grief and gasps out “sorry” again and again. [Gracia]: “That would be just like him, dying while trying to help someone else.” The Trio look up in surprise. [Gracia]: “My husband. He always was a busybody and a meddler, and it got him into trouble. A lot. But you know… I don’t think he ever had regrets. Not any… not even in his dying moments, Edward.” So many people to respect in this episode, seriously. Al being prepared to give up on getting his body back, and Gracia insisting that they can’t give up, or else Hughes died in vain. With a little smile, even. Forget about the dead end of the Stone, there still might be another way. [Gracia]: “You boys have to keep moving forward… any way you can.” The door closes as the Trio exit the apartment, Ed turns to look at the others- [Elicia]: “Mommy?... Mommy, please don’t cry.” ...damn you, show. Later in the day now, the sun is setting as the Trio walk through the streets to a sweeping cello melody. The Elrics see Winry to a hotel room, and then go to their own. Right, because they… used to stay at the Hughes’ residence. Winry’s quietly resting on her bed, Al’s sitting in the living room, and Ed’s downstairs in the restaurant too upset to eat. Now he’s knocking on Winry’s door, asking if she’s eaten yet, and she should hurry because the dining room is closing soon. The parallels are strong here: when they were children the Rockbell’s fed the Elrics, and now Ed’s trying to make sure Winry keeps up her strength now. When Winry doesn’t make a move Ed excuses himself to his room, but Winry grabs his automail hand. Aw, aw no. She still has the basket of apples she was planning to take to the Hughes’ family. Seems she was planning to make apple pie. And had hoped that Mr. Hughes would get to try some too. Winry cries as the screen fades to black. WOW OK talk about rough transitions, we’ve got Chimeras in cages. And eff you it’s the Goths, Lust leaning on Gluttony as she talks with still-disguised Envy. Now they know that Roy’s been looking into the matter, and may have found some things out. Lust gripes that they orchestrated Roy’s move to Central to keep a closer eye on him, and it’d be a waste to lose an important sacrifice candidate. Wait… [Envy]: “Haven’t been able to learn anything from your new boyfriend?” Aw hell no, I’d thought that Havoc gushing about having a girlfriend was just a little joke at the beginning of the episode, like a running gag about his relationships or something. You’re telling me Lust is playing Havoc? Run dude, run! Lust goes off to gather more info, calls for Gluttony like a loyal little attack dog. Envy chides Gluttony for leaving some bones scattered around… but then gets an idea. Uh oh, we’ve got string music as Envy suggests making another “play”, giving Roy a bone to chew. What are you up to? We’re at what appears to be a cafeteria now, when someone comes up and taps Lieutenant Ross on the shoulder, introducing himself as Henry Douglas from the Provost Marshal’s office. Flanked by goons, he says that Ross has to come along with them, and demands her gun? Wait, is Ross being arrested? Brosh, where the heck are you, come defend your partner! Whoa whoa what?! They’re accusing Ross for Hughes’ murder?! What the heck, how can you make that claim? What evidence do you have for that absurd claim? Besides… well, besides the shapeshifter accosting Hughes in the phone booth while looking like you… uh oh. Riza is updating Roy on the situation, saying that Ross (man, there are a lot of R-characters involved in this case, huh?) is pleading not-guilty on all charges. The Flame Alchemist just tells Riza to gather all the info on the suspect that she can, secretly. Dramatic string music continues as we see Havoc buying some flowers and then running along to his “hot date”, stubbing out his cigarette as yup, “Solaris” is Lust. Who demurely asks Havoc to sit down and tell her about his day. AAAAAAARGH! Ok then! Was putting off this episode because I knew there would be Feels about Hughes, and damn if it didn’t deliver. But like Gracia said, they can’t let Hughes’ death be in vain, and they can hardly just give up and let the killer go free. Speaking of, framing Ross? As if I didn’t have enough reasons to hate you jerks, Goths! Ugh, this is gonna get complicated, isn’t it?

[sarahgirl1998]

Lumpy’s Birthday

The sun slowly rose from the mountains, changing the sky from dark blue to a much lighter shade of blue. As it did so, the stars gradually disappeared from the sky. Before long, you could hear the faint sound of birds chirping wherever you went.

It was a beautiful morning in the Happy Tree Friends forest, the start of a brand new day. In one of the houses in the forest, Lumpy was laying in his bed, still sleeping since the night before. After a few minutes had gone by, however, he slowly opened his eyes, then sat up in his bed. He rubbed his eyes with his hands, and then yawned quietly into one of them. As he put his hand down afterwards, his eyes widened with happiness and he smiled. Today was his birthday.

Hopefully, this would be a much better birthday than the year before. On his last birthday, he had caught a particularly bad cold and felt absolutely miserable. He almost always needed to sneeze, and a lot of his sneezes were extremely loud and messy. He also couldn't get over that one massive sneeze, which mortified him as it happened during his birthday party. Everyone saw him and heard him release that sneeze, and probably could have kicked him out right then and there. Fortunately, his friends weren't mad at him for the sneeze; they understood that he wasn't feeling well and still let him stay for the party.

This year, however, Lumpy was perfectly healthy. His nose didn't feel runny or stuffy, his throat wasn't feeling sore... he felt great, and he felt happy, too. He figured that since he didn't have a cold this time around, that would help make his birthday a lot better than the embarrassing nightmare it was the year before. As he compared the reality of last year to the expectations of this year, Lumpy remembered something that made his mood even better: his friends were throwing him another party at Cuddles' house.

Lumpy sat on the edge of his bed, and then stepped out. He went over to his window, pulled the curtains open, and then pushed the window open. He smiled as he looked outside. The sky was a perfect light blue tint, without a single cloud in the sky. It was a little warm outside, but the gentle breeze felt cool on Lumpy's fur. Also, it smelled kind of sweet...

"Aaah-choo!"

Lumpy suddenly doubled over with a single, mild sneeze. He then reached up and placed his forefinger under his nose, smiling sheepishly to himself. His nose had just been tickled by the faint scent of pollen in the air, leading to his unexpected sneeze. He didn't mind it this time, however. He was already aware of how often he sneezed from his allergies, no matter what day of the year it was, so it wasn't surprising.

Lumpy removed his forefinger from his nose and closed the window, but still kept the curtains open. He walked out of his bedroom, then went into the bathroom to wash up and get ready for the day. He took a shower, brushed his teeth and put on some odorless deodorant.

After about 30 minutes, Lumpy walked out of his bathroom. He went downstairs to the kitchen (he had sold his trailer for a two-story house) and began making himself some coffee. He filled the coffee maker with fresh coffee powder, followed by some hot water, then switched it on and waited for it to “do its magic.” While Lumpy was waiting for his coffee to finish, he went outside to get the newspaper, then returned to the kitchen and sat down at the table to read the paper. He got about halfway through one of the articles before the coffee maker finally shut off, having finished a fresh serving of coffee.

Lumpy put down his newspaper, cleaned out his favorite mug and poured some coffee into it. It was still steaming hot, just the way Lumpy liked it. Lumpy took a deep inhale through his nose to smell the sweet aroma in the otherwise bitter coffee. Not long afterward, however, his nostrils flared up. Lumpy needed to sneeze again.

“Ah, aaaaah... AAH-CHOOOOOOOO!!” Sniffling, Lumpy rubbed his nose with his forefinger. “Huh, that was weird... I don’t think coffee has ever made me sneeze before.”

“Ah, well...” Lumpy shrugged to himself. “My nose is probably just a little more ticklish than usual today.”

After a couple of minutes, he had finished his coffee and finished the article he was reading. He put his newspaper on the table, washed out the mug with water again and put it back in the cupboard.

Just then, he heard a knock at his door, and an excited smile immediately appeared on his face. At least one of his friends might have arrived to bring him to his birthday party, like the year before. Lumpy ran excitedly to the door, stopped once he had reached it, and then pulled the door open.

“Hey, guys!” he greeted the visitors before getting to see who they were.

Cuddles and Toothy stood at the door, just like they had last year on the day of Lumpy’s birthday.

“Hey, Lumpy!” Cuddles and Toothy replied.

“I think I know what you’re gonna say,” Lumpy said. “But if you say it in a certain way, you’re gonna make me sneeze...”

“Oh, really?” Cuddles asked, playfully.

“Yeah.” Lumpy nodded. “I’m not sick this time, but my nose is pretty sensitive this year.”

“Well, alright,” said Cuddles. “You about ready to come on over to my house for that party?”

“Yeah, let’s go,” said Lumpy.

Lumpy stepped out the front door and shut it behind him. He, along with Cuddles and Toothy, went on their way to Cuddles’ house. A short time after they had started walking, however, Lumpy’s nose twitched again. The pollen was tickling his nose again. Not wanting to fight it, Lumpy simply tilted his upper body back and inhaled before letting out a double.

“Aaaah... Ah-choo! Aaaah-chiooo!” Lumpy sniffled as he rubbed his nose with his forefinger, smiling sheepishly at Cuddles and Toothy.

“Bless you,” Toothy said, having heard the sneezes.

“Thank you,” Lumpy responded as he continued to rub his nose. “I’m probably gonna be sneezy all day...”

“Oh, that’s okay.”

“Yeah. As long as it doesn’t bother you, it doesn’t bother us,” Cuddles added.

Lumpy smiled at them again and they continued on their way. Lumpy sneezed a few more times on the way to Cuddles’ house, but he kept rubbing his nose afterward. Even though he was right about sneezing a lot today, he was glad that he wasn’t feeling sick as well.

After a few minutes, Lumpy, Cuddles and Toothy finally arrived at Cuddles’ house. All of Lumpy’s friends - Giggles, Petunia, Flaky, Lammy, Nutty, Flippy, Splendid, and even Lifty and Shifty - had already arrived. Sniffles, Lumpy’s best friend of all, was also there, and when he saw Lumpy, he squealed with joy.

“Lumpy!!” Sniffles immediately ran up to Lumpy and gave him a big hug. “I am so glad you could make it!”

Lumpy was a little surprised at first, but he calmed down, blushed and hugged him in return. After a few seconds, Sniffles let go of him.

“This party’s gonna be even better than last year!” said Sniffles. “Then again, you did have that super bad cold back then...”

“Yeah. But at least I’m not sick this year around,” Lumpy replied, “even though I am kinda sneezy today. Better just sneezy than sick and sneezy, I guess...”

Sniffles smiled at him, and then reached up to rub Lumpy’s nose gently with his forefinger. Lumpy didn’t have to sneeze, but he giggled a little as the fur on Sniffles’ finger tickled the underside of his nose.

“Hee, hehe!” Lumpy twitched his nose slightly.

“Aww, what?” Sniffles asked, playfully.

“It, it tickles! Hehehe!” Lumpy responded.

Sniffles removed his finger from Lumpy’s nose, and then tickled around his nostrils with the tip of his forefinger. Lumpy kept giggling, but his nostrils started to flare up.

“Hahahaha! S-Sniffles, you’re gonna make me sneeze! Hahaha!” Lumpy tried to warn him.

“I know.” Sniffles giggled in adoration and continued to tickle Lumpy’s nose. After a few seconds, however, he pulled his forefinger away and watched. As soon as he did that, Lumpy held his hands over his quivering nose.

“Ah... Aaah, haaaah...” Lumpy tilted his neck back three times, and then sneezed into his hands. “Hah-choo!” Afterwards, he pulled his hands away from his mouth and rubbed his nose slowly with his forefinger.

“Awww!” Sniffles said in response to the sneeze. “That was so cute! Bless you, Lumpy!”

“Thank you,” Lumpy replied as he continued to rub his nose.

“Indeed. Gesundheit, darling,” a familiar voice remarked.

Lumpy turned around to see that Splendid had arrived at the party as well. Not only that, he had heard Lumpy’s sneeze.

“Thanks,” Lumpy said as he rubbed his nose a little more. “And excuse me.”

“It’s alright, dear. Are you enjoying your birthday so far?”

“Yeah.” Lumpy poured himself a glass of punch and drank it. It tasted like fruit snacks if they were made into a drink. Lumpy didn't know if that was a good way to describe it, but that was what it tasted like to him. “But for some weird reason, my nose is more ticklish than usual.”

Splendid looked at him in concern. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” said Lumpy. “I’m feeling great. I just have a little case of the sneezes.”

Sniffles nodded in confirmation as Lumpy said that. Splendid’s expression of concern then returned to normal.

“Well, I hope you enjoy your party,” Splendid replied. “And when you’re ready to open your presents or have cake, let us know.”

Lumpy nodded in understanding. He then walked over to another part of the party, where he saw Petunia holding a bouquet of pretty flowers. When she turned her head to look at him, she smiled.

“Hey, Lumpy!” She showed him her flowers. “I got you flowers for your birthday!”

“Oh, thank you!” Lumpy smiled widely as well.

Lumpy was already aware that he was allergic to flowers and pollen, but he was too grateful to turn down Petunia’s gift. He took the bouquet of flowers and gave them a deep sniff.

“Aaaaaah...” Lumpy’s breath suddenly hitched, and he pulled the flowers away from his nose. The end of his snout was quivering, and his nostrils were flaring up again. He gave the flowers back to Petunia, then turned away from her. “Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh...” He tilted his upper body back as he fanned his hand in front of his opening mouth. This was going to be a big one. “HaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH--”

“CHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!”

A massive sneeze erupted from Lumpy’s body as he shot his neck forwards, with a good amount of spray coming out of his mouth and nose. Most of his friends turned to look at him, a lot of them concerned, but Sniffles and Splendid were amused. Lumpy opened his eyes to see everyone staring at him. He could only smile sheepishly as he rubbed his nose with his forefinger.

“Um... excuse me?” he said, innocently.

His friends laughed at his reaction, making him feel a bit more comfortable. After a few seconds, they went back to what they were doing. Petunia, however, still looked at him in concern.

“Oh, my. Bless you, Lumpy,” she said. “Sorry, I thought these flowers would be a nice present for you...”

“That’s okay,” Lumpy said as he continued to rub his nose. “It’s not like I didn’t like them.”

“If you’re interested, I did bring another present for you.”

“Thanks, but I’d like to wait a little bit,” Lumpy responded, politely.

“Well, alright, then.”

Lumpy then looked over at the other side of the room. He saw Lifty and Shifty on the couch, playing something on their Nintendo Switch. The game looked oddly familiar to Lumpy, like something he had played before. Aside from that, Lumpy was happy that they made it to the part, and he couldn’t resist going over to them. Once he had made it to the couch, he greeted them.

“Hey, guys!”

Lifty and Shifty immediately paused their game and turned to look at Lumpy. They responded almost instantly, as if they knew what they wanted to say.

“Hey, Lumpy!” Shifty said.

“What’s up, birthday dude?” Lifty added.

“I just wanted to hang out with you guys for a minute,” said Lumpy.

“Sure!” the raccoons replied in unison. They moved over a little so Lumpy could sit down on the couch. They unpaused their game and continued playing while Lumpy watched.

“I didn’t know you guys had a Nintendo Switch,” Lumpy stated. “What are you playing?”

“Mario Kart 8 Deluxe,” Lifty responded. “I’m Luigi, and Shifty is Waluigi.”

“That’s cool. I actually played that game once, a few months ago. Or at least, the one on Wii U,” Lumpy replied. He then sighed to himself in slight disappointment as he spoke again. “I kept getting hit by Blue Shells, lightning, the Pow Blocks...”

“Oh, come on!” Waluigi’s voice from the game was heard, followed by Luigi’s voice not long after.

“Oh, what happened?”

“9th place. God dang it!” Lifty said.

“Ugh, why does this game have to be so hard?” Shifty muttered, also disappointed as he had finished in 8th place.

Despite that Lifty and Shifty were huge Mario Kart fans, they felt like they just couldn't get a break whenever they played it, let alone 8 Deluxe. Then again, neither did anyone else, or at least the ones that volunteered to play the game with them. Lumpy, as he said before, didn't have a lot of luck with this game, either, so he sympathized with the unfortunate raccoons.

“Well, sorry, guys. I guess that game is more focused on getting the others to win than you to win.” Lumpy shrugged. “But hey, at least this didn’t end like that time when you were in a race...”

“Yeah. Let’s start a new race and see if we’ll get lucky.”

Shifty exited out onto the main menu. He and Lifty chose the same characters and car add-ons as they did before the race, but Lifty turned to Lumpy just as Shifty arrived on the stage selection screen.

“So Lumpy, you having a good time?” Lifty asked.

“Yeah,” Lumpy replied. “However, I should point out, today I’m a little...”

Before Lumpy could say anything more, Shifty tapped on Lifty’s shoulder to get his attention. Lifty turned to look at him, only to find that Shifty had chosen his favorite stage: Rainbow Road as it appeared on the first edition of Mario Kart 8.

“Yes!!” Lifty squealed as he wagged his tail around, not realizing he was wiggling it right under Lumpy’s nose. Lumpy’s nostrils began to flare up as he needed to sneeze again.

“Haaah... Aaaaaaah...” Lumpy tilted his neck back. What he didn’t realize was that Lifty and Shifty were both holding the Accelerate buttons on their controllers, and right before the race started, Lumpy exploded. “HAAAAAAAAH-- TCHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

“Whoa!!”

Just as Lumpy sneezed, Luigi and Waluigi on the game spun out, blowing Lifty and Shifty’s chances of getting a turbo start. The raccoons looked shocked, and then dismayed. They looked over at Lumpy, who was rubbing his nose with his forefinger.

“Well, thanks a lot, Lumpy,” said Shifty, sarcastically.

“S-Sorry...” Lumpy apologized as he continued to rub his nose.

Not wanting the raccoons to be mad at him, Lumpy walked away, still rubbing his nose. He went back over to Sniffles, who was holding a bottle of pink and blue sneezing powder in his hands. Sniffles looked up at Lumpy and smiled at him.

“Hey, Lumpy! I almost forgot to remind you, but I made a special sneezing powder for you for your birthday!” said Sniffles. “And it’s right here!”

“Really?!” Lumpy sounded excited. “What’s it got?”

Sniffles showed Lumpy the bottle. “I made this with pollen, dust, pepper and flour. This powder is guaranteed to make you sneeze - not to mention, it can really tickle your nose while it does so.”

Sniffles gave Lumpy the bottle of sneezing powder. Lumpy happily removed the lid on the bottle, inserted his forefinger inside and rubbed some of the sneezing powder into his nose.

Immediately, Lumpy’s snout began to twitch, and his nostrils reddened slightly as they flared up. They really, really tickled. Lumpy sniffled, sending the sneezing powder a little further into his nasal passages and tickling them even more. Lumpy’s breath began to hitch. He was going to sneeze again.

“Aaaaah... Haaaaaaaah...” Lumpy began, and then put down the bottle of sneezing powder. He rubbed his nose with his hand, trying to fight the urge to sneeze. “Huuuuuh... Ehhhh...”

“I-I-it’s coming...!” Lumpy managed to point out, as if no one got it. He tilted his upper body farther and farther back with every inhale he took. “Heeeeeeh... HaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAH...”

Lumpy tilted his neck as far back as possible, took a final dramatic inhale and finally exploded.

“HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHHH-TCHIOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!”

Everyone could feel the floors beneath them shaking as Lumpy released his sneeze, with a good amount of spray coming out of his mouth. His nose was still tickling, however, so he quickly sneezed again. He thought it was going to take at least five sneezes before his nose would feel satisfied, but it only took two more.

“AaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH-CHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!! HaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!”

The second sneeze sounded surprisingly adorable. Lumpy sniffled as he rubbed his red nose with his forefinger, blushing at every one of his friends.

“Oh, my! Gesundheit, Lumpy!” Sniffles responded.

“Gesundheit, indeed,” Splendid said in agreement.

“Gesundheit!” Lifty and Shifty said, in unison.

“Thanks...” Lumpy continued to rub his nose.

“So, do you like my sneezing powder?” Sniffles wanted to know.

“Yeah,” Lumpy said with a nod. “It really tickled my nose, but those sneezes felt really good.”

Sniffles smiled at him, his hard work having paid off. “I’m glad you like it.”

Soon Lumpy decided he wanted some cake. Everyone sat around the table and Cuddles gestured Lumpy to make a wish and blow out the candles. Before he did, however, the smoke from the candles wafted into Lumpy’s nose, making him need to sneeze.

“AaaaaAAAAAAH-- CHEEEEEEWWWWW!!” Lumpy sneezed right onto the candles, blowing them out. He then sniffled and rubbed his nose with his forefinger.

Everyone looked at him in shock at first, but then laughed. They didn’t believe what they had seen, but they couldn’t be mad at Lumpy. After all, besides the fact that the sneeze had sounded cute, this hadn’t been the first time a small amount of fire or smoke had made Lumpy sneeze.

“Gesundheit!” Sniffles said. Lumpy blushed as he rubbed his nose for a few more seconds.

Not long afterwards, the cake was cut, and everyone had some. When Lumpy took his first bite of his slice of cake, however, he felt an enormous need to sneeze. His nose twitched and nostrils flared up as he sensed the flour in the cake.

“Huuuuh...” He inhaled quietly, then swallowed the morsel of cake, put his plate down on the table, and then let out a few rapidfire sneezes into his hand. “HaaAAAH-CHOOCHOOCHOO!! AAAH-CHEWCHIOOO!!”

“Ugh...” Lumpy removed his hand and rubbed his nose with his forefinger, sniffling slightly. “Every time I eat cake. Every single time.”

“Lumpy? Are you feeling alright?” Toothy asked in concern.

“Don’t worry about him, he’s fine,” said Sniffles. As he explained why Lumpy was sneezing like this, he blushed a bit. “I once discovered that eating cake on his birthday causes Lumpy to sneeze like that.”

“Yeah...” Lumpy took another bite, swallowed and then sneezed rapidly again. “HEEEEH-CHIOOCHEWCHOOCHOO!!” He sniffled and rubbed his nose again. “It’s too bad this tastes so good...” He took another bite, and then pressed his forefinger under his nose. “Ah, ehh...” He held the sneeze back long enough for him to swallow, but then he sneezed anyway. “Haaaaaah-- CHOOOOOO!! AH-SHEEEEEWWWWW!! Heeeh... HEEEEEH-CHIOOOOOOOOOO!!”

He was still sneezing, but at least this didn’t feel as painful as his rapidfire sneezes. He rubbed his nose gingerly with his forefinger as Sniffles giggled.

“Lumpy, if you’d like, I could make a potion that will help you stop sneezing like that,” Sniffles offered.

“That won’t be necessary, but thank you,” Lumpy replied.

Sniffles then turned to Lifty and Shifty, who were the only guests at the party who hadn't gotten themselves some cake yet.

“Would you guys like some cake?” Sniffles asked. “There's enough for you.”

“You do know we're allergic to cake, right?” Lifty asked, not looking amused.

As he said that, an unfortunate memory appeared in Sniffles' mind, and his pupils shrunk.

“Oh...”

“We're not that hungry anyway,” Shifty said as he looked away for a moment.

“Well, if you say so,” Sniffles replied.

Lumpy continued to eat his cake, despite that he kept rapidly sneezing between each bite. He kept rubbing his nose after every brief sneezing fit, however. Once he had finally finished (it took him longer than the others, who had already finished), he put his plate down on the table and rubbed his nose with his forefinger.

Lumpy then got up and went over to the large stack of presents that everyone had brought for his birthday. He chose one at random and pulled out a small gift box. On the tag, it said “To Lumpy, from Sniffles.” Lumpy looked over at Sniffles and smiled appreciatively at him. Sniffles smiled as well as he blushed and giggled.

“I think you’re going to like my gift, Lumpy,” he told him quietly.

Lumpy removed the ribbon from the box, then put it aside as he removed the lid. He looked down at what was inside.

There was a bottle of light blue powder.

“What is this? Sneezing powder?” Lumpy asked.

Sniffles nodded in confirmation. “But it’s not just any sneezing powder. Would you like to find out what happens when you sneeze from it?”

“Sure.”

Lumpy removed the bottle from the box, and then put the box down. He removed the lid from the bottle, held the opening to his nose and gave a deep sniff.

Suddenly, his eyes widened and his pupils shrunk. His nostrils froze for a moment, and then began to flare up as his snout twitched. The powder smelled like flowers, but it felt like a good number of feathers were tickling the outsides and insides of his nose. Lumpy pulled the bottle away from his nose and began to inhale, tilting his neck back.

“Aaaaaaaaah... HeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEHHHHHHH...” Lumpy’s inhales were growing louder and more dramatic by the second. Most of the other Happy Tree Friends plugged their ears while Sniffles looked on in excitement. Lumpy’s nostrils flared up to several times their normal size and his snout was rumbling like crazy, like a volcano about to erupt. “HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH--”

“HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATTTTTTTTTTCCCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!”

Lumpy shot his upper body forwards as he released the sneeze, with a good amount of spray coming out of his mouth. Despite that the sneeze was certainly loud and forceful, it was also very high-pitched and sounded adorable. It was like it had been released by one of your favorite female characters, or at least Giggles, Petunia, Flaky or Lammy. Once he recovered from the sneeze, Lumpy groaned, sniffled and rubbed his nose with his forefinger, holding the sneezing powder in his free hand.

“Ughh!!” said Lumpy.

Not long after he had started rubbing his nose, he saw that all of the Happy Tree Friends in the scene were looking at him. Everyone had sparkles and hearts in their eyes, as if they had just discovered yet another exceptionally cute piece of media.

“Oh. My. God!” Lifty said. “That was adorable!”

“Yeah!” Shifty replied.

“Did... Did you just sneeze like that?!” Cuddles asked, even though he didn’t believe it. “It sounded just like when Giggles sneezes!”

“It did?” Giggles blushed, but kept her expression. “No wonder it sounded so adorable!”

“Awww~!” said Flaky.

“That was really cute!!” Flippy mentioned.

“It sure was!” Toothy responded.

“Oh, Lumpy, that was just too cute!” Petunia said, ignoring the fact that Lumpy’s sneeze had visible saliva. He didn’t spray anyone, anyway.

“Y-Yeah! Hehehehe!” Nutty jittered.

“How can someone like you sneeze like that?” Lammy asked, jokingly. “That was too cute, even for you!”

“Lumpy, that was one of the cutest sneezes I have ever heard,” Splendid said, meaning every word.

“EEEEEEEEEEE!!!” Sniffles squealed loudly and giggled for quite some time. “Oh, Lumpy! That was amazingly adorable!! Gesundheit~~!”

“Yeah, what he said!” Lifty said.

Lumpy blushed at everybody’s comments, especially Sniffles’.

“Um, thank you...” Lumpy said as he rubbed his nose a little more. “Sniffles, what did you put in this sneezing powder?”

“This sneezing powder was made with pepper, lots of pollen, and a rather special substance,” said Sniffles. “The substance not only tickles your nose, but has the power to make even the biggest sneezes you release sound absolutely adorable.”

“What’s it called?” Lumpy asked with a sniffle.

“Actually, I’m not sure, but I did bring some with me.” Sniffles held up a shaker of pink, sparkling powder.

“You know, that kinda looks like one of your pink sneezing powders,” Lumpy commented.

“It basically is.” Sniffles put away his powder. “Except I didn't create it myself, I just found some and decided to use it in some of my sneezing powders.”

“Thanks, Sniffles,” Lumpy said as he put his bottle of sneezing powder back in the box he took it out from. “I wonder which present I should open next...”

“You can open ours,” Shifty offered.

Lumpy slowly turned to look at Lifty and Shifty.

“You... you brought presents?” Lumpy asked as he raised an eyebrow.

The raccoons nodded in confirmation, and each handed him a wrapped present. They had been carrying theirs with them for almost the whole party. Lumpy took them and unwrapped Lifty’s. Once all of the paper had been removed, he looked at the gift in what seemed to be disbelief.

“Sonic... Forces?” Lumpy asked.

“It has that awesome song called Fist Bump,” said Lifty. “You know, the one that I kept listening to online?”

“Oh.” Lumpy smiled. “You know, that has been my favorite song from that game ever since I heard it on TV. Thanks!”

Lumpy then unwrapped the present that Shifty had given to him. His reaction was also disbelief at first, but then it turned to delight.

“Super Mario Odyssey?!”

“Yep,” Shifty responded.

“Oh, my God!! Thank you, THANK YOU!!” Lumpy said as he hugged Shifty. He blushed while Lifty looked on, almost looking like he was about to laugh. “I LOVE this game!!”

“Yeah, to be honest, it was more fun than Sonic Forces,” Shifty admitted. “But we didn’t know which one you’d like more...”

Lumpy let go of him and picked out another present. It was from Giggles, and it was in a pink gift box with a yellow ribbon. He undid the ribbon and removed the lid. His eyes sparkled and he gasped when he looked inside.

“Oh, my...!”

Lumpy removed the object from the box and looked at it. It was a plush toy of Unikitty from the cartoon of the same name. His favorite character from one of the cutest shows he had ever seen, right behind Tootie. It was covered with a soft, velvety outer material, from the pink on its body to the light blue on its tail, with the eyes made out of high quality glass, and the horn made out of vinyl. Unlike its cartoon counterpart, however, the plush toy had two front paws and two back paws, as opposed to one front paw and one back paw. He picked the plush toy up and showed it to everybody.

“Giggles, it’s adorable!” Lumpy said. “How’d you know I like Unikitty so much?”

“Well, you did show me the intro once,” Giggles replied.

“Oh, I love it! Thank you so much!” Lumpy hugged the Unikitty plush toy and pet its back, as though it were alive. However, he then took a sniff through his nose, and some of the hairs on the Unikitty toy’s tail reached over and tickled one of his nostrils. It tickled a lot, about as much as a feather tickling his nose.

“Huh?! Aaaaah...” Lumpy sniffled, trying to counter the almost immediate tickle in his nose, but it didn’t work. “Huuuuuuuh...” Lumpy tilted his neck back, expecting the sneeze to explode from his body soon, but it didn’t. The urge to sneeze faded away. “Ugh.”

Lumpy sniffled and rubbed his nose with the side of his hand. He looked disappointed that his urge to sneeze had gone away. But then Cuddles tapped on his shoulder, causing Lumpy to look at him.

“What’s wrong? Did you lose your sneeze?” Cuddles asked. He seemed to know what was going on.

“Yeah...” Lumpy responded.

“I believe that that gift...” Cuddles pointed to his gift for Lumpy, which was a yellow gift box with a pink ribbon. “...will take care of that.”

Lumpy put down the Unikitty plush toy, then picked up Cuddles’ present. He pulled off the ribbon and removed the lid. When he looked in the box, however, all he saw was what appeared to be a white quill pen. He looked at Cuddles questioningly at first, but then he realized something and his eyes widened. This was what Cuddles was talking about when Lumpy said he had lost his sneeze. Without thinking, Lumpy picked up the feather and rubbed it underneath his nostrils, causing them to flare up. He didn't notice that the others were looking on in amusement, as he was quickly distracted by the urge to sneeze.

“Heeeeh... Aaaaaaaah...” Lumpy inhaled, and then dropped the quill, which landed perfectly back in the box. He tilted his neck back and lowered the box from his face.

“HAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH-- HCHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

Lumpy's sneeze wasn't nearly as strong or loud as those sneezes from the two sneezing powders he had inhaled earlier today, but it was still loud. That being said, he could clearly hear everyone giggling in amusement over his sneeze.

“Phew!” Lumpy sighed with relief as he rubbed his nose with his forefinger. “Thanks, I needed that.”

“Actually, Sniffles suggested that I give you one of those in case you need to let out a stuck sneeze,” Cuddles said.

"Okay, thanks," Lumpy replied with a sniffle.

"Oh, and by the way... Gesundheit," Cuddles then said.

"Yeah, what he said," Shifty responded.

"Indeed." Sniffles giggled cutely.

“Thanks.” Lumpy put the lid back on the box and put it aside. He rubbed his nose a few more times until it was satisfied, and then he pulled his forefinger away from his nose.

He then pulled out Splendid’s gift for him, and then removed the wrapping paper from it. His eyes widened and pupils shrunk in delighted disbelief.

“Tootie, season 1?!” Lumpy said. He looked over at Splendid and hugged him tightly. “Oh, thank you, Splendid!”

Splendid blushed slightly and returned the favor. “You’re welcome, darling. I knew you would enjoy that DVD.”

“Gee, I sure hope I get a copy of Tootie, season 1 someday,” Lifty said to Shifty, in private.

“Me too,” Shifty responded.

Lumpy then pulled out Toothy’s present for him, which was a purple gift box with a dark blue ribbon. He pulled off the ribbon and removed the lid, then looked inside the box.

It was a plush toy of Cat Mario, as he appeared in Super Mario 3D World.

“Awwwwww!!” Lumpy said as he pulled the plush toy out of the box. “Toothy, it’s adorable!! Where’d you get this cutie?!”

“I was at the game store looking for games you might want,” Toothy explained. “Then I saw that Cat Mario plushie on sale and I couldn’t resist buying it for you.”

“Oh, thank you!” Lumpy hugged his plush toy. “Oh, it’s so soft!”

“I think I've seen that cat before..." said Lifty.

"Bro, that's Mario in a Cat Suit, but it's a toy," Shifty replied.

"I want one of those, too!" Lifty immediately said.

After a few seconds, Lumpy put down the plush toy and picked out Petunia’s gift, which was dark blue with a pink ribbon. He pulled the ribbon off and removed the lid, then looked into the box.

Inside was a bottle of perfume with a push-down sprayer.

“Perfume, huh? Thanks,” Lumpy said as he pulled out the perfume.

“I made it myself,” Petunia said. “I tried to use some less allergenic flowers so you wouldn’t sneeze as much.”

Lumpy sprayed some of the perfume onto his hand, and then gave it a sniff. He then exhaled as he smiled. The perfume smelled great, but it tickled his nose a little, and his nostrils flared up. Before he could notice, he sneezed mildly.

“Aaaah-- Chyew!” This sneeze was both spray-free and adorable. He could hear his friends giggling as he rubbed his nose cutely with his forefinger.

“Bless you, Lumpy,” Petunia said.

“Thanks.” Lumpy continued to rub his nose. “This stuff does smell pretty good, even though it still makes me sneeze. But at least it’ll work if I have a stuck sneeze.” He put the perfume back in the box that he pulled it out of.

Lumpy then took his time opening the rest of his presents, and saying his appreciative thanks to them after each one was opened. He got a stuffed cat toy from Flaky, a bag of his favorite chocolate candy from Nutty, a DVD compilation of Tootie episodes from Lammy, and a Tootie storybook (which contained sneezes from the Jet and Tootie) from Flippy. Lumpy already had season 1 of Tootie since he got it from Splendid, but it was alright. Lumpy dreamed of having every Tootie DVD he could get his hands on.

After a couple of hours passed by, when the sun started going down, everybody started to leave. Everyone thanked Cuddles for the party, admitting it was a lot of fun. Lumpy thanked everybody for the presents and thanked them once again when they wished him happy birthday, one at a time.

As everyone cleared out, so did Lumpy with his presents. As he started heading home, Sniffles decided to follow him.

“Um, Lumpy? Do you mind if I walk you home?” Sniffles asked.

“No, you can come along,” Lumpy said, kindly.

As Lumpy and Sniffles walked to Lumpy’s house, Lumpy continued to mention how much he enjoyed his party.

“That had to have been one of the best parties I’ve ever been to,” he said. “And DEFINITELY better than last year when I had that cold!”

“I can tell.” Sniffles giggled to himself. “Though you did say that was pretty good, too, even though you weren’t feeling good throughout the party.”

“Yeah.” Lumpy nodded.

After a few minutes, they arrived at Lumpy’s house. Lumpy wanted to open the door, but Sniffles put his hand on the doorknob, turned it and pushed the door open for him. Lumpy thanked him as he did so, then went over to his couch in the living room and put his presents down on it.

“I can’t wait to play Super Mario Odyssey, and Sonic Forces,” Lumpy said. “But you can always come over and play those with me if you want.”

“Gee, thanks, Lumpy,” said Sniffles. “Oh, and one more thing...”

“Yeah?”

Sniffles reached into one of the gift boxes and pulled out the quill pen that Cuddles had given to Lumpy.

“May I tickle your nose and make you sneeze one last time?” Sniffles offered. “Just to close your birthday?”

“Sure!” Lumpy smiled and nodded.

Sniffles smiled happily at him, then went over to Lumpy and inserted the tip of the quill gently into one of his nostrils. Lumpy smiled from how much it tickled as his nose twitched and nostrils flared up.

“It tickles...!” Lumpy managed to say, before his breath began to hitch. “Haaaaaaaaaaah... Heeeeeeeeeeeeeehhhhhhhhh...”

Sniffles giggled audibly to himself as he continued to tickle Lumpy’s nostril. He sent the quill pen further into Lumpy’s nasal passage, hoping it would make him need to sneeze even more.

“Huuuuh, aaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh...” Lumpy tilted his neck back. “EeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH...”

Sensing that the buildup was getting stronger, Sniffles slowly pulled the quill out of Lumpy’s nostril, but not without giving his nose some final tickles. By the time the tip finally made it away from his nose, Lumpy was just about to explode.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-- CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!”

Lumpy shot his neck forwards as he released the massive sneeze, with a good amount of spray emerging from his mouth and a small amount of mucus coming out of his nostrils. Despite this, however, he managed to make the sneeze sound cute, just to add to Sniffles’ pleasure.

As Lumpy recovered from his sneeze, he sniffled and rubbed his nose adorably with his forefinger.

“Awwww!! Gesundheit, Lumpy~!” Sniffles blessed him.

“Thank you!” Lumpy replied, continuing to rub his nose.

Sniffles gave him a tissue, which Lumpy used to wipe the mucus off his nose. Lumpy didn’t need to blow; his nose would stop running in just a few minutes. “That sneeze was adorable!”

Lumpy blushed and kept wiping his nose. He loved when someone called his sneezes cute.

“I like when they’re cute, too,” he admitted, as Sniffles placed Lumpy's new quill back in the box he got it from. “Well, I think it’s about time I started getting ready for bed.”

“Okay, but I can’t wait to see you again tomorrow,” said Sniffles. “I bet it’ll be just as much fun as today has been!”

Lumpy threw away his tissue and nodded in agreement. Sniffles then gave him a big hug, which Lumpy took a minute to enjoy. After what felt like a couple of minutes, Sniffles turned his head to look up at him and said one final thing to him.

“Happy Birthday, Lumpy,” Sniffles whispered.

He let go of Lumpy and proceeded out of his house. Lumpy watched as his anteater friend pulled the door open, then left and shut it behind him. Lumpy then took his plush toys of Cat Mario and Unikitty, and then gave them a hug. He carried them off upstairs into his room, wanting to sleep with them by his side when he went to bed that night.

This had been the best birthday Lumpy had ever had.

[voyages-extraordinaires]

Interlude 01

(Warning, the following chapter contains explicit sexual content between Nemo and Aronnax. It is not necessary to the plot, so feel free to skip if the subject matter makes you uncomfortable.)

The shower feels incredible.

It wasn’t a particularly strenuous day, but it was a long one. Even though the submarine is completed, there is still loads of work to be completed before we can depart.

The past couple of hours have been fairly simple, just fitting ourselves into dive suits. Unfortunately, I was conducting experiments when the underwater testing was done, but the boys were chatting excitedly about it for the rest of the day.

Nemo looked so handsome in his suit. I held my breath when he took off his brass helmet, trying my best not to notice the bead of sweat trickling tantalizingly down his neck.

I lean against the stall wall, letting my mind go blank as the water pounds into my back.

He’s been driving me crazy in the best way. On nights when I’m not completely exhausted from work, his vision fills my mind until I have to grant myself selfish release.

… That started becoming a habit of mine back in Saint’s mansion. The thought of Nemo makes my body awaken lasciviously.

If only the showers were private, I might be able to risk satisfying myself here. But they aren’t, so what’s the use of fantasizing?

I turn off the shower and begin to towel myself dry.

It’s really quite pathetic, how hot my body feels just from remembering him.

I quickly pull on my robes and begin the short walk back to my room. The sooner I get back, the sooner I can distract myself with the Harper’s supply lists, the sooner I can fall asleep.

But when I open the door to my room, I see that those same lists are already being examined by the very person I was trying to distract myself from.

This isn’t the first time he’s appeared in my room, of course. I don’t lock the door so he’s always able to access it. Truth be told, I think he prefers my room to his.

…I can’t say I blame him, either. To say that his room is sparse would be an understatement. No scientific mess, no paintings, no gadgets, even the map of Lincoln Island hanging on every wall had been taken down. It is completely blank save for a brass bed and white bedsheets. It’s like all of his passions exist in laboratories or mechanical beasts, and when he gets to his ‘own’ space, not shared by science… it’s empty. Completely empty.

It’s depressing to think about it, and the stark difference between the man and the room is emphasized when Nemo lopes over to me with a wide smile.

“I’m glad you’re here~! I was hoping to get your opinion on Impey Barbicaaaaaaaane’s proposed changes. I personally think it’s a bit much, especially since we’ll likely only be sailing for a week each way. But Caaaaaaaaardia-chan agrees with his changes, which made him even moooore enthusiastic, which made him even leeeeeess likely to listen to reason! Love makes fools of the greatest minds!”

Well, it’s a distraction, anyway.

I smile. “To be honest, thinking of supplies and weaponry and all this realistic stuff has been rather far from my mind, I’m afraid. I’m still trying to convince myself that it’s real. Seeing this amazing creation coming to life in front of me… sometimes it feels like it’s all a fantasy.”

I look away, suddenly feeling sheepish. “I guess it’s different for you, Nemo. I mean, you’ve been creating all these incredible things and mm—”

Nemo’s kissing me. Slowly, deeply, holding my face in his hands so I couldn’t pull away.

Eventually I have to push back on his chest so I can breathe. The smile on his face is so eager and bright, it’s amazing what such a small compliment can do to this man.

He takes my hand and lays his cheek on it adoringly.

“Oh, Profeeeeessor! I will show you that it’s real! I can plant such memories on your body, so your mind is forced to remember that it’s aaaaaaaall real!” he says. “If you juuuuust…” He moves his mouth to my ear and whispers. “Let meeeeee…”

I tilt my head so he can reach more of my skin. He responds, gently kissing my earlobe and down my jaw until he reaches my neck.

I shiver as I feel him smile against the bruise he inflicted on me before. Then, there’s a warm sensation as he begins to trace his tongue along the yellowing pattern.

“…Let me….” He repeats.

I let out a ragged breath and nod.

He giggles and grips my hair, turning my head so I have to look at him.

“Thaaaaat’s not good enough! No, I want you to say it… I want there to be no question… say that you want me! Say it so that anyone could understand! The whole world!”

He had sounded so in control before, but now he was begging. He was telling me ‘I want to feel needed’.

“Nemo… I want to… how can I say this…”

It’s hard for me to concentrate, especially as I hear him take off his gloves.

“I want us to be… connected. More than just our minds, more than just our… our love of science, I want…”

I barely had to mention science before Nemo’s smile widened into a grin, his goggles glinting in such a way that my entire body screamed ‘DANGER’.

It also screamed, ‘Don’t’ stop’.

“Thaaaaaat’s where you’re wrong, my daaaarling! It IS science! Everything that we will discover tonight is a testament to the power that science holds over all of us! Fwee hee hee hee… oh, there are so many things I will teach you, Professor…”

He puts a hand on his hip and leans over, adjusting his goggles so he can get a closer look at my expression.

“Now, then…” the corners of his lips curl. “What were you saaaaaying~?”

He’s so close to me, I can’t resist. I tilt my head and give his smile a quick kiss. “I want to sleep with you, Nemo. In all the different ways. I want… our bodies to be one… I want all of you inside of me…”

I trail off, my eyes widening when I remember something.

“I don’t want you to stop,” I continue. “Not for anything, but… but I don’t have any way to…”

Nemo produces a small bottle with a flourish and a giggle.

“Cyyyyyyyrene Smith is quite the chemist! She developed so that her workers can consummate their desires without worry of any unfooooortunate interruptions! It’s truly a triumph of science over our base animal instincts! So, dear Professor, shall we indulge~?”

He pops a round, cherry-red pill in his mouth before gripping my chin and pushing his mouth against mine. I quickly yield, enough for him to easily push the pill into my mouth with his tongue. I close my eyes and swallow before wrapping my arms around his neck, not ready to break the kiss yet. He hums in satisfaction, letting the tips of our tongues play against each other.

This time, he’s the one who pops his foot. I giggle, and he pulls away and rubs his nose against mine.

He quickly takes off his jacket and drapes it over one of the chairs, but before he can walk to the bed I stop him.

“What I said wasn’t good enough.”

I loop my arm around his waist and lead him back to me, pushing my body against him.

“You told me to say it so that the whole world could understand. The whole world wouldn’t understand my words.”

His expression is so cute, his lips are drooping in confusion but his eyebrows are arced with such curiosity.

I pull him to my height and quickly undo his choker, tossing it onto my desk.

I seek out his eyes behind his goggles and brush his hair away from his neck as I whisper, “Let me leave my mark on you.”

I pull down the collar of his sweater. His skin is so beautiful, soft and warm. I lean in and place my lips against his neck, gently roaming over the muscles until I feel his pulse radiating from his carotid artery. It feels good against my lips, and I open them slightly to taste his skin.

The reaction is immediate, Nemo wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me in deeper. When I begin to suck on his skin, he lets out a high-pitched sigh that could only be described as ‘wanton’. Encouraged, I bury my face in his neck, trying to the motions that caused my neck to bruise so beautifully.

But he can clearly still feel the hesitation in my movement, because he wraps one of his hands around the back of my head and whispers, “Deeper… please……”

I nod before biting down, and the needy moan that reaches my ears is all the reward I need.

Though, when I pull away and look at the rosy marks I’ve left on his neck, I can’t help but feel a little proud. It’s much lighter than the bruise he left on me, that goes without saying, but…

“Now everyone in the world can see,” I whisper. “Just how badly I want this genius scientist.”

I can feel how hard Nemo is breathing. When he pushes himself against me again, I can feel another source of hardness, too. It makes my body ache.

“Just from kissing…” he groans. “You’ve already made me like this…”

I take him by the shoulders and lead him back to the bed, laying him down. Before I think about what I’m doing, I swing one of my legs over him and sit on his stomach.

He smirks and lifts his knees up, raising an eyebrow. “Are you sure -that‘s- where you want to sit, my cuuuute Professor~?”

I grin as I begin to fiddle with the leather strap on his chest. “If I sat any lower, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself… and I want to savor every moment of this.”

“How cute…” Nemo grins as he begins to unwrap the bandages from his arms. “But don’t woooorry, I won’t let you run away after this first time. Oh, no, there’s too much we have to discover… we’ll have to examine each other thousands of times before we’re satisfied~!”

He sits up to pull the leather off of his shoulder, pausing long enough to give me a kiss on the cheek.

“How did you end up on top, anyway~?”

I yelp as he rolls us over, pinning me beneath him. His hair tickles my neck as he leans down and begins to undo my robe.

“H-Hey!” I exclaim. “That’s not fair!”

I reach over him and begin to pull his sweater over his head, but he won’t cooperate so all I can do is reach under the fabric to feel his thin shoulders and back.

He kisses down my collarbone, and I feel my entire body flush when he kisses the hollow between my breasts.

Then, he pushes the edges of my robe aside, leaving my body entirely visible in the electric light.

I quickly pull him to my chest out of both love and embarrassment. The closer I hold him to me, the less he can see.

It’s not that I’m ashamed of my body, and it’s not like I haven’t had lovers, either. But because it’s him… I feel like he can look right through me. My skin feels so red under his body, blood pumping to my extremities in preparation.

I shiver when I feel the metal of his goggles against me, and he laughs as he reaches around to undo them.

When he looks up at me with those beautiful eyes of his, I look away.

“Don’t tell me now that you’re getting shy!” the volume of his guffaw makes me jump. “Don’t you think it’s a liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiittle late for that?!”

Nemo sits back with a wide smile, looking over my body with excitement usually reserved for some great scientific discovery.

I can see his eyes darting over me, taking it all in. When I begin to cover myself, he quickly pushes my arms down back against the bed.

“Your breasts move quite beautifully when you shiver, did you know that~?” his voice is almost at a normal volume for once, and the quietness surprises me almost as much as the sensation of his fingers trailing up my stomach.  

“A woman’s breasts… biologically they have very little to do with copulation, and yet…”

I clench my fists in the bedsheets when he leans down and takes one of my nipples in his mouth, teasing it with his teeth.

“And yet even I, a man of science, can’t help but be entraaaaanced!” he locks his mouth over my breast and begins to suck, and I can only squirm under his weight. He’s pulling at my skin, enough to make me squirm, but the rough sensation is more pleasurable than anything!

He pulls back to take a shuddering breath, threads of saliva still connecting my nipple to his mouth.

“You’re responding excellently to stimulation,” he pauses to wipe his mouth, admiring how his kiss made my skin shine with wetness. “But you’re still so nervous, aren’t you? You poor thiiiing… the chemicals in your brain are sending so many signals to your body. I can’t take advantage of your lust-riddled mind like this! Please, allow me to treat you with a scientist-assisted hysterical paroxysm before we continue~.”

Hysterical paroxysm. An orgasm. Though “female hysteria” was losing credibility in the medical field, I could tell from Nemo’s expression that he wasn’t above playing with the term.

“But, Nemo, if I finish…”

“Shhh~” he winks as he puts a finger to my mouth. “One of the greatest blessings that the vagina has over the penis is its ability to withstand multiple assaults without rest~! Please, allow me to take advantage of your body’s natural abilities. Your flesh will swell with release, and your nervous brain will be soothed… making it easier for both your body and mind to…”

He pauses to grin, his teeth shining. “… Accept me.”

He takes one of my hands and brings it to the front of his pants. I look down with a curious smile as my hand seeks out the heat of his crotch. I narrow my eyes blissfully when I wrap my hand around his shaft, feeling it harden further in my grasp. But… something feels different from past lovers. I feel a different sort of hardness there, too.

I quickly pull my hand back when my mind makes the connection—metal! Likely the same kind of metal that decorates his face!

I look up at him, dumbfounded, and he bursts into laughter, rolling onto his back with delighted tears in his eyes.

“N-Nemo… are you…”

He stares at me, waiting for me to finish the question.

“Pierced….?”

“Yes.”

His answer was so simple, I can feel myself staring at him quite stupidly.

He rolls onto his side and props himself up, motioning me to come closer. When I do, he wraps his arms around me and kisses me sweetly.

“So how abooooout it?” he whispers. “Let me satisfy you, Professor. So that it will feel even better when we’re finally united~!”

He lowers his head and kisses my shoulder. “Besides, there’s so much more of you I want to discover… so let me have a taste…”

His eyes dart down to my crotch, and I instinctively squeeze my legs shut out of nervousness.

But… that nervousness is what he wanted to remove, right?

I nod.

“All right… but… I want to see you, first.” I pout. “Nemo, it’s… not fair that you’ve been able to examine me so closely…”

Nemo’s smile is lopsided as he sits up. “That’s true.” He begins to pull his sweater over his head, and I quickly climb into his lap, leaning down to kiss his abdomen as it’s exposed.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long…” I whisper as I continue to kiss up his torso, pausing to feel his stomach move with each deep breath. Then, as he finally pulls the sweater over his head and tosses it aside, I run my tongue from one nipple to the other before mimicking his cruel sucking.

He laughs and tilts his head, brushing my hair away from my face so he can watch me.

His skin feels so soft and fragrant, you would never guess it from the busy schedule he keeps but he clearly puts a lot of effort into beauty. The lavender oil on his skin intoxicates me in ways I never thought it would.

I curse into his skin as I fumble with his belt buckle. When he laughs I look up at him and mutter, “Are you going to help me, or are you getting off on watching me?!”

He gives me a wink. “Aren’t the best discoveries made after a bit of struuuuuggle~?” But he finally helps me in undoing his belt. Without warning, he quickly shoves down his pants, kicking them and his boots off the side of the bed in one fluid motion.

When he leans back, I dare to look down.

“O-Oh…”

I’m not sure whether it’s the penis itself or the glinting metal that catches my attention first.

Even though it’s not fully erect, his foreskin has pulled back to show its head, dark and red from engorgement. I look up at him to get permission, and he just looks at me with a proud smile.

I reach out and gently put my fingertips to it, lifting it up so I can get a better look at his piercings.

There are three golden barbells on the underside of his shaft, styled in such a way that they look like the rungs of a ladder. Then, his foreskin is pierced with a lovely ring, and the thought of it rubbing against my insides makes my labia throb.

I begin to pet it without really realizing what I’m doing and soon it begins throbbing against my palm.

“I want a taste, too,” I say as I lean down to get a closer look.

“Not faaaaair…” Nemo whines. “I wanted to do it first~!”

But he doesn’t stop me as I gingerly cup his scrotum, relishing its weight against my palm. With my free hand I begin to stroke the upper side of his shaft, the one free of piercings. Honestly, I’m a little too nervous about hurting him to give him a proper handjob, but I make up for it by bringing my lips to his frenulum and giving him a soft kiss.

It’s so hot, I can’t stop myself from continuing my curious kisses, smiling as I feel his foreskin retract more and his penis stiffen to full attention.

“Sensitive, aren’t you?” I coo as I begin to drag my mouth down the underside, kissing him down his ‘ladder’ and gently beginning to suck on the base.

His only response is a needy moan.

I slowly run my tongue from base to tip, stopping only to flick my tongue against his ring. I carefully take the piercing in my mouth and hum, and the vibrations make Nemo arch his back.

“G-Gently…” he stammers, and I pull back. A bead of clear pre-seminal fluid has begun to dribble from his urethra, and I quickly begin to kiss it away. I lick the saltiness from my lips before kissing the tip. “May I?” I dart my tongue out against his urethra, finally brave enough to lock eyes with him.

This time, he’s the one who looks away.

“I’d love nothing more than that…” he pauses to suck in a breath. “B-But… I don’t know how long I’d last… the thought of filling your warm mouth would be a temptation I just couldn’t ignore….”

I feel like I’m in a daze as I slowly slide the head of his penis into my mouth. The heat is incredible, and I let out a disappointed moan as Nemo pulls my head back.

My brain is so foggy, all I can do is hungrily watch him throb.

“You… don’t get… to finish me… thaaaaaaaaaaat easily….!!” His smile is crazed, and I shiver as he leans in and licks my lips, tasting himself on me. Then he kisses me, laying me down on the pillow in a gentle motion that doesn’t match the expression on his face.

He kisses my knuckles, my fingertips, my palms, and then makes sure that I’m watching him as he lowers himself to nibble on my stomach, making me twitch with each light pinch of his metal teeth. Then, with a final bite he spreads my legs and hoists them up so my knees are in the air.

I cover my eyes with my arm, not wanting to look.

“What’s wroooong?” Nemo quickly jumps back up and pushes my arm away, looking at me with a worried expression. He’s so cute that I have to reach up and touch his cheek to reassure him. He leans into it adoringly, still looking at me for my answer.

“N-Nothing, I just…” I laugh. “It … it feels like I’m being examined…”

His worried expression disappears, and he joins me in my laughter.

“You are, darling, you are! But don’t worry… I won’t experiment on you without telling you ex-act-ly what I plan to do first,” his lecherous grin returns as he speaks. He lowers himself back down between my legs, and my body spasms when he runs his knuckles against my vulva.

“You’re already so engorged…” he giggles, but then his voice lowers. “Did touching me turn you on that much~?”

I decide to throw the embarrassment right back at him: “Yes, it did.”

His eyes widen and his cheeks redden, but he clears his throat before leaning back down between my legs. He spreads my labia with his thumbs, playing with the puffy skin and lightly blowing on it.

“What—what do you even plan on doing?” I ask, shivering at the sensation of his hot breath.

He looks up at me, though all I can see are his arched eyebrows.

“I toooold you, I want a taste… and don’t you dare try to stop me! You need assistance with a hysterical paroxysm.”

He lifts himself back up to kiss my pelvis before sticking his tongue out playfully.

“You’re beautiful.”

Two simple words. Words that I hadn’t heard anyone say to me in years.

They affect me so much, and the only thing I can think of in response is: “So are you.”

He just smiles happily at me before kissing down the outside of my labia, soft and chaste compared to what I expected. Somehow, these teasing touches drive me crazy, and I arch my hips in hopes that he’ll get the message.

He does get the message, but instead of doing what I ask, he moves his head to the side and begins sucking on my inner thigh.

“Maybe I should leave my marks down here, too… where no one else can see…”

I suck in my breath when takes one of my outer lips into his mouth and tugs on it, lightly grinding on the skin until I wince. He lets the flesh go with a ‘pop’ before licking over the bruise that’s surely begun forming.

Then he pulls my labia apart again and finally begins to roam over the flesh it protects with the tip of his tongue.

“Slightly bitter…” he muses, almost to himself. “But so warm and soft…”

“You don’t have to say things like that!” I sit up to glare at him, but he just buries his face in-between my legs and laughs. When I feel him begin to lick along my inner labia, I slowly sink back into the pillow.

He’s clearly done this before. He’s hitting so many amazing spots, licking from my perineum up to just below my clitoris. He always hesitates, teasing me, breathing on that most sensitive part on my body before ducking back down.

“Ne… Nemo, please…”

“Hmmm~?” his voice is lilting. “Getting a little impatient, are you? Don’t you knoooooow how much better something feels if you have to wait for it…?”

I lean my head back and groan when I feel him rub the pads of his index and middle finger on either side of my clitoris, not close enough to touch it, but close enough to stimulate the surrounding nerves.

“Hmm, this has potential, though…”

“Nemo, what are you--?”

He shushes me before gently running his fingers over my clitoral hood.

“Oohhhhhh--! Yes, the skin here is perfect~!”

I’m not quite sure I understand why he has a sudden fascination with my clitoral hood (especially since my clitoris is throbbing for his attention). Still, it isn’t an unpleasant sensation when he tugs at the skin.

“Hmmm~ yes, yeeeees indeed! Perhaaaaaaps after this voyage, I’ll be able to give you a permanent mark here…! Yes, a pretty piece of jewelry, for my eyes ooooonly…”

My eyes snap open in realization.

“I really… I really don’t think I’ll be ready for anything like that…” I stammer.

Nemo pouts. “Hmm~ a shame, really… but I suppose such a reaction is expected from my Polly-chan… oh, well…”

He licks his thumb and finally runs it over the tip of my clitoris. I push my hips up, letting out a pleased sigh as he begins to teasingly rub it between his wet fingers.

I’m not sure how much longer I can stop myself, especially when he pushes his thumb against my perineum. The nerves there are connected to the clitoris, and I can practically feel it swell as he finally, finally begins to slowly lick it.

“Don’t stop, Nemo…” I begin to slowly move my hips in time with his licks, and he responds by taking my clitoris in his mouth and sucking on it.

I prop myself up on my elbows, lust clouding my mind enough to allow myself to burst through my shame in order to watch him pleasure me.

He notices this and looks up at me, inhaling my scent deeply with a wide smile. Then, he props himself up and comes closer to me.

“Wait, I haven’t finished…”

“Oh, I know~” Nemo grins and tilts my chin back before bringing his fingers to my lips. I lock eyes with him before taking his index finger in my mouth, wrapping my lips tight around it and taking it all the way down to the base.

“That’s it…” he says. “Make sure you get it nice and wet for me, hmm~?”

I get an idea about what he’s trying to do, so I do the same thing to his middle finger, taking it in deep. He smiles and ruffles my hair with his free hand before moving back down between my legs.

“It’s fun to sometimes get the specimen to help, you seeeeee?” he giggles before rubbing those wet fingers against my vaginal entrance.

“Now, let’s see how this feels…” he puts his lips over my clitoris again before sliding his two fingers inside me.

“Oh my god…” I groan.

“Fwee hee hee… you can call me that if you waaaaaaaant, but it won’t make me go any easier on you~!” He gives me a quick lick before going back to sucking on the most sensitive part of my body.

Nemo’s inside of me. That same hand that built the Nautilus, that brought London to its knees is now flexing its fingers, curling them and rubbing at sensitive nerves, spreading them apart to see just how wide I can open for him.

It’s a little embarrassing how quickly I’m reaching the edge, but I keep on watching. I can see how slick his fingers and face are from the lubricants my body is producing, eager to welcome him inside.

He pulls his fingers out to admire how wet they are, and I cry out in agitation.

He looks a little surprised at how forceful I sound, but he laughs at how pitiful he’s made me before giving me the attention I’m craving.

My breathing is becoming more labored, and my body begins to spasm in anticipation. Finally, he slides a third finger inside of me and uses his other hand to apply pressure to my perineum and anus. The full coverage of his affections, from my clitoris all the way down, is what makes my orgasm so powerful that the edges of my vision go white.

I grit my teeth and seize, my body going through wave after wave of amazing delirium. I can hear how sloppy I’ve become, his fingers still sliding in and out with ease as I finish.

I don’t know how long it is before I finally collapse back on the pillow, my heartbeat pounding in my ears.

Nemo sits up and rubs his jaw, murmuring, “That was… faster than I expected…”

“It’s been awhile since I’ve been with a man,” I admit. “Maybe I was just more sensitive… but, the more likely answer is that it’s because it was you, Nemo.”

“If you keep on saying cute things like that, you’ll make me bluuuuuuuuush~!”

I didn’t have the heart to tell him that he had been blushing all night.

“But, Polly-chaaaaaan… do you think you’re ready?”

I look down at his erection, still standing tall and twitching in anticipation. Even though I already orgasmed, I can feel myself beginning to salivate at the sight of it.

I spread my legs again and hold my arms out for him as an invitation.

He leans down and kisses one of my offered hands before pulling my hips towards him and positioning himself. With a wicked smirk he rubs the tip of his penis against my sensitive clitoris, and my legs begin to spasm again.

“Couldn’t resiiiiist!” he lilts. “You’ll forgive me, won’t you~?” He nudges his head against my vaginal entrance and sucks in his breath.

We’re holding each other’s gazes as he enters me.

Every nerve lining the walls of my insides scream in delight as his penis slides inside with ease. So this incredible sensation is why he wanted me to orgasm first--!

I can feel his piercings, too, it’s fantastic. I can only imagine how wonderful it would feel if he were taking me from behind, the metal rubbing against the more sensitive of my vaginal walls.

But as he lays down on top of me, all I can think about is how perfect it is for his body to be on mine. I wrap my legs around him as he settles into position.

“Stay… stay still for just a moment…” I breathe.

He tilts his head. “Does it hurt?”

I shake my head. “I want… I just want to focus on the feeling of us together like this, connected.”

He leans down and licks away a tear I didn’t even realize I had shed.

It’s so hot inside of me. I can feel my vagina squeezing down on him, eager to accept his lovemaking. But for just a moment longer, I want to savor of him deep inside of me.

He brings his lips back to mine and kisses me gently, our mouths barely touching.

Finally, I bury my head in his neck and nod. “N-Now…”

I can practically see stars when he gives me his first thrust.

It’s not just our genitals, our entire bodies are grinding against each other as we begin this ritual that is the basis of my entire line of study.

Nemo props himself up on his elbows so he can thrust in deeper, and I lift my hips so my entire vulva can be stimulated by his skin and scrotum. My body is shaking, already exhausted and overloaded from my first orgasm of the night.

But he’s relentless, just like I want him to be. I can feel his tip nudging my cervix with each thrust—it’s a strange sensation, but both the pressure and the knowledge that it’s because he’s so deep inside of me is an incredible turn-on.

“P-Pauline…!”

He’s begun panting, his voice hitching in his throat and escaping in needy moans and gasps.

He pulls my hips up so he’s in as deep as he can be, grinding exquisitely against me. When he gives another thrust, my second orgasm makes me convulse with such ferocity that I’m clinging to Nemo with all of my strength.

“Alreaaaaady?” he smiles down at me. “Poor little professor, I’ve just begun…!”

He slides out and turns me over before hugging me, both of us on our sides. He clamps his mouth down over my throat before lifting my leg up and penetrating me from behind.

I knew the pressure of his piercings rubbing against me would be amazing, but this is too much! I moan so loudly that I clap my hand over my mouth to stop the sound from escaping.

Nemo, as expected, won’t have any of that. He yanks my hand away from my mouth and kisses my wrist, still thrusting deep inside.

“Let—them—heaaaar!!”

I cry out his name, but the sound is drowned out by his mad cackling.

He’s thrusting with such force that his scrotum is slapping my vulva, sending shockwaves of my own madness through me.

I try to grip at the bedsheets, but in this position it’s easier for me to grip his arm, and I dig my nails into his skin in an attempt to hold on to my mind. I can feel his penis harden even more, signaling to me just how close he is.

He buries his head in my shoulder and moans deeply as the first wave of his orgasm hits him. His penis pulses inside of me, and this sensation coupled with the intimate warmth of his semen is what gives me my third orgasm of the night.

Nemo is clinging tightly to me, his body trembling from the force of his orgasm.

My heart is pounding as the waves finally die down, and both of us lay there in blissful silence.

My body is heavy, I can hardly move.

“Was that…” Nemo finally groans. “Was thaaaaaaat a third time…?”

I’m too weak to even answer, so I just nod despite my embarrassment.

He laughs, his voice finally beginning to grow hoarse from exhaustion.

We lay there in silence before I finally mutter: “I can’t move… I think I would fall if I tried to stand up…”

Nemo kisses me on the shoulder before slowly pulling out and swinging his legs over the side of the bed, standing up to turn out the light.

“You’re not leaving, are you?” I sleepily roll over to look at him, and yelp when he uses what little energy he has remaining to drape himself on top of me.

“No…” he smiles. “I’m staying here for as long as I can… my cute… cute professor… all mine… just… mine…”

His voice begins to slow, and it isn’t long before he begins to snore deeply.

I whisper an apology to Cardia in the room next door before I close my eyes and let sleep take over my exhausted body.

[imaginekpoplikethis]

Summer Beginnings - Kim Taehyung oneshot

A Summer oneshot for you guys. Hope you enjoy!

The heatwave that had hit your city was, according to the news, the hottest it had ever been. That's why you opted to a day at the beach with your sister and friend. Arriving at the beach, you slipped on your sunglasses and made your way to the brightly coloured changing rooms. After stepping out of your denim shorts and pulling your off shoulder top over your head, you left the changing room in your black and white striped bikini. Stretching your arms out, you grinned at the thought of the crisp cool waves against your body.

"Y/N! That bikini is so cute!" Your best friend Ji Hee complimented you whilst your sister exited the changing room. "Hey! It's because I picked it out for her. Otherwise she would have came in her school swimsuit." She playfully pushed you and you shot her a close eyed grin.

"Ah, thanks sis." You began walking, in search of a suitable place to lay your towels whilst Ji Hee carried your parasols. When you found a relatively empty space, you placed down all your things and slapped some sun screen on your bodies. It was then you noticed you forgot to bring drinks, a basic necessity.

"Crap. We forgot the drinks. You guys relax while I run down to the stall and buy some." Your sister lowered her glasses to look up at you. "Okay, if you need anymore money just go into my purse." You nodded, picking out her purse.

Making your way down the cobblestone path, you arrived at the stall. When you had  finished buying a few bottles of water and cans of drinks, you felt a tap on your shoulder. Turning around, you came face to face with a man you had never seen before. He smirked at you as he eyed you up and down whilst licking his lips. Despite knowing you would be stared at in the bikini you were wearing, it still utterly disgusted you that he was practically drooling at the sight of so much skin.

"Hey, I couldn't help but notice how gorgeous you are." He brushed a hand through his hair and shot you half a grin, obviously full of himself. You tried your hardest to remain polite despite the disgusting behaviour you were witnessing.

"Thank you. That's kind of you to say." He didn't seem to notice your uncomfortable smile and tense shoulders as he casually slipped an arm around your shoulders, as if you had known each other for years. "So I was thinking you could join me and my friends ove-" You ducked underneath his arm and shot him a scowl, although he didn't seem all that fazed.

"I don't know you and I'm kind of busy. Please refrain from touching me, thank you." You spun on your heel and you began walking back in the direction you came from but a tight grip on your forearm restricted you from moving any further than a few steps. "You don't have to be so bitchy, just come and have fun with me." Shaking off his grip was futile as he just pulled you closer towards him. You were extremely startled to find that he had the confidence to wrap both of his arms around you, resting both hands on your hips and you dropped the bag of drinks in shock. You pushed him away with new found strength and sent him a deathly glare. He had messed with the wrong girl but clearly he hadn't realised that yet.

"What the fuck! I told you I don't know you so don't fucking hug me like we're a couple or something, It's creepy. Do I have to get a restraining order for you to know to back off?" The glare he returned was one that sent chills down your back and he took a step towards you, once again reaching out. Before he could do anything another arm shot out from seemingly nowhere and twisted the strangers arm behind his back. He screamed in agony and you stood there, half relieved and half confused.

"The pretty lady told you to leave her alone. Why can't you get the message?" A cheery voice had come from your saviour, a man with light brown hair and a face so handsome you were almost certain he was model. "Alright! Alright! I'll fucking leave." The handsome stranger let a 'boxy' smile spread on his face and let go of your harassers arm. The man gave you one last look before running in the opposite direction.

"Well, that's one way to spend a day at the beach. My name's Kim Taehyung." He outstretched his hand at the end of his introduction and you gratefully took it, returning his smile with a softer one.

"My name is Y/N. Thank you so much for helping me. I honestly thought he wouldn't leave me alone and god knows what would have happened if you hadn't turned up. I could've b-" He placed a slender finger upon your mouth.

"Hey, don't think about stuff like that. It's not good for the mind you know." You simply nodded at him, trying to calm your racing heart. Your cheeks flushed at the skin contact as you watched him retract his finger and stuff his hands into his pockets.

"Come on. I'll walk you to your friends." He slipped ahead of you and you followed closely behind, picking up the bag of drinks you had dropped previously. How did he know you were not alone?

"Because I saw you earlier on, setting up with your friends." His answer dragged you out of your thoughts and it was then your realised you had voiced your thoughts aloud.

"You should hang with me and my friends. Not by yourself obviously, bring your friends along. That way you won't have to worry about touchy bastards who don't know when to stop." His suggestion was bold but you couldn't deny that it would make you feel a lot more comfortable so when you reached your sister and Ji Hee, you explained what had happened and Taehyung's suggestion, to which they agreed to. After moving all of your things, you found yourself being introduced to a group of 6 boys.

"Guys, this is Y/N, her sister and friend. Please make them feel comfortable." At first, an awkward silence had settled in but after Taehyung had introduced each of his friends, you soon found yourself laughing along with everyone else at jokes and stories. Suddenly, the awkwardness had disappeared and your day at the beach had become more than a way to escape the uncomfortable heat. The sneaking glances you had shared with Taehyung was enough to hint to the start of a unique relationship. You spent hours in the sea having a splash war and then playing shoulder wars, with you and Taehyung emerging as the victors.

When the time came for you to part ways, Taehyung had pulled you away from your group and grinned at your confused face.

"Can you give me your phone real quick?"  You obliged, unlocking and handing him your phone and you watched him with even more confusion. He suddenly made a 'V' sign with two fingers, placing them at his forehead whilst closing his eyes and smiling his adorably boxy smile. The sound of a picture being taken piqued your interest and he began typing something into your phone. He then pulled his own phone out and snapped a picture of you and you gasped at the sudden action.

"Hey! I wasn't ready for that!" He only snickered in return.

When he handed you back your phone, you found that you had a new contact listed under the name 'V'.

"It's my number. I messaged myself through your phone so now I have yours." He stuffed his phone back into his pocket and brushed his damp hair out of his face.

"What's 'V'?" Taehyung lightly pinched your cheek, giving you a bright grin.

"That's a story for another day."

"Hey, Taehyung! Say your goodbyes, it's time to go!" Hoseok's voice had made Taehyung jump and you giggled at the look of surprise that flashed across his face.

"I'm glad I met you, Y/N. You're fun and cheerful so it makes me happy to be around you." His words made your heart speed up and you felt your cheeks grow hot. He stepped forward and gave you a brief hug, before turning and running to his friends.

"Y/N let's go! It's getting late." Ji Hee's voice broke you out of your trance and you all but ran to the car, hopping inside. When you arrived home and had prepared yourself for bed, you were reminded of when Taehyung had your phone.

Entering your messaging app, you were greeted with the message Taehyung had sent himself a few hours prior.

'You're reaaaally pretty when you're angry. Oh! And don't let other guys touch you, I got really jealous earlier on because guys like that shouldn't be around you. Only guys like me.'

You buried your face into your pillow, mentally screaming at yourself to stop acting like a love sick teenager, but to no avail.

If only Taehyung knew that you had no sleep that night all thanks to his message.

[jknerd]

Everybody Loves Soo 10: Hello Baby Pt. I

[Summary: Magic!AU, requested by Iujunki261! For some reason, Hae Soo turned into a five years old girl it will take a week for wash off the spell. How would the prince handle this cute, little court lady? How would her friends react? How will Soo handle this embarrassing situation and will she revert back to her older self?]

“KYAAAAAAA—!!!!”

All prince stopped what they were doing and their head instinctively went to Damiwon. Even princess, Woo-Hee, Chae-Ryung, and Soon-Duk stormed towards it. They all burst though the door to see if something happened to Hae Soo. But there was no one…or was it?

“Down here…”

They all look down to see a little girl in age of five, large eyes watery, and was wearing too big robes that only fits for grown lady. Their eyes were widened as they realized who was this little girl.

“SOO?!”

The little girl, Hae Soo, nodded her head. She told them she had suddenly become a little girl when she woke up. Possibly it was because the certain Jinn who resembled Ji-Mong, causing the whole thing. Then all of sudden, they saw a mist from a lamp, revealing the Jinn.

“Yes, my dear!!! You will have a week to stay as a five years old, don’t worry!”

And that’s where So threw his dagger at the lamp out of anger, but unfortunately he missed it. He tried to do it again, but Baek-Ah stopped him.

“Brother! Soo’s watching!”

The fourth brother exhaled heavily, calming himself for a five years old girl were not allowed to see a violence. Eun and Jung approached along with the girls. Chae-Ryung was the first on the hold her lady up.

“Oh my god, Lady Soo! What do we do now?” Chae-Ryung looked as if she was about to cry at any moment.

“You know,” Soon-Duk held the five years old, “she’s quite adorable if you keep look at her.”

“We could take care of her until she reverts back. I could see her mental status are also around the age of five.” Woo-Hee suggested.

“Good plan,” then Baek-Ah hold Soo, “d’awww, she looks so cute when with those big eyes~!”

Soo pouted, earning more “awws” from younger princes. As much as other princes wanted to hold her, they only stood silent. Yeon-Hwa came and snatched the child away from younger princes, glaring at them sternly.

“I doubt you all can raise a little child. Leave this to us ladies.”

The younger princes groaned.

“I don’t know if I’m going to like this but,” Soo bowed slightly, her lips pouty, “pardon me for a week.”

And Yeon-Hwa took little Soo to her chamber searching for any small hanbok for her. Woo-Hee, Soon-Duk and Chae-Ryung followed behind. Luckily, she found one for a little girl suiting with light pink, baby blue, and dark wine red ribbon around her waist. And Soo seemed taken a liking to a new hanbok as she giggled delightfully, earning from cooing from people.

When the night comes, Soo was supposed to sleep in her chamber but due to her small height and somewhat a little fear of darkness, she needed to sleep with adult who can calm her fear. So that’s where she came at night, met princes and the girls. Noticing little Hae Soo, they all smiled.

“Good evening Soo,” Wook greeted with smile, “what can we do for you?”

Soo seemed hesitant at first, but she managed to spoke.

“I couldn’t sleep…I’m a bit scared…”

Watching her large watery eyes, they all gave in.

“D’awww, we could play until you’re tired!” Eun said with wide smile.

“No, Eun. Children must sleep earlier.” Yo chimed in, giving his tenth brother a strict, scolding look.

But when Yo saw Soo’s puppy eyes, his eyes twitched, pupils shaking with unfamiliar emotion. Even Wook and So found her eyes irresistible for they couldn’t say no to her.

“Maybe next time you can sleep earlier…” Yo muttered, averting her gaze.

“Yay~!” Then Soo came and hugged Yo’s legs, due to her small height, surprising the third prince and others.

Crown Prince Mu smiled amusingly at Yo’s blush. Eun held Soo up, with Jung and Baek-Ah escorting her to Eun’s room to play with toys until they felt tired.

Soo slept between three younger Wang brothers. Jung was protectively embracing Soo while Eun and Baek-Ah laid on the opposite, quietly sleeping.

D-7 Another day came, and Soo dragged Jung outside to play sports. Fourteenth prince gave her a small wooden sword, teaching her how to play with it. Even though So clumsily used them, her behavior was far too adorable for him to teach again.

Soo ran around while Jung follow behind, until Soo ended up bump into So, who was walking by. She looked up and feigned injury. Fourth prince smiled at her antics.

“You’re the one who bumped in.”

Five years old look up, felt flustered. Fourteenth prince came and hid her behind as if his older brother would bring harm to her. Hiding his disappointment, So only walked away. Little Soo wanted to follow the wolf prince, but Jung gently dragged her small hand and lead the way to Eun’s chamber where the tenth prince and Soon-Duk was making toys for her.

“Soo~! Look! We made this dolls.”

Eun held up his masterpiece. He made it out of Soo’s image, in which impressed her.

“Thank you.” Soo said with her childish accent.

“Your welcome~. What do you want to do?”

Soo looked around and saw pile of papers and brushes. She pointed at it and Baek-Ah noticed.

“You want to paint?” Thirteenth prince asked.

Little girl nodded her head. Baek-Ah gave papers and paintings as Soo sat on the chair. But the problem is that the chair was too low, her hands couldn’t reach to the table. Princes and the girls stifled their giggle as Soo stood on the chair. She picked a brush and began to draw princes and colored them.

Several hours later, Soo and other young princes went to Wook’s study room where everyone else were located. Their expression changed from their blank expression to a lively smile when Soo entered the room.

“Look what she draw today! She drew about us.”

Baek-Ah put down her drawings on the table. They all looked at the drawings with impressed eyes. She was making a cartoon out of them and everyone could recognize who they were.

“Hey, that’s me!” Eun exclaimed as he pointed at one.

“And there’s me also.” Jung said, looking at his portrait(?).

Yo tilted his head at a rather thick eyeliners of a drawing of himself made by five years old. Wook smiled at the one Soo drew of him. She had drawn Wook smiling and reading. Yeon-Hwa saw a picture of her in refined robes and seemed proud with it. Woo-Hee and other girls cooed at Soo’s drawings.

Baek-Ah noticed one particular picture.

“Who’s this?”

Soo looked at smiled. She drew a handsome man holding a mask, but has no trace of scars and was smiling brightly.

“Fourth prince.” She answered.

Everyone blinked their eyes. Mu smiled appreciatively at the girl’s sweetness. And in such impeccable time So came in.

“Brother, look at this.” Baek-Ah held up the drawing of his fourth brother, “Soo drew you!”

So blinked his eyes and looked over at Soo, who seemed hopeful. So’s hand grabbed the paper and inspected. Then, he formed the most brightest smile, approached to the girl and patted her head affectionately.

“Thank you, Soo.”

She giggled, but the others glanced at one another in disbelief.

D-6 Chae-Ryung, Soon-Duk, and Woo-Hee took Soo to the market outside Song-Ak. Five year old court lady’s eyes were sparkling in awe as other princes giggled. She glanced the stock where the merchant was selling pastries. With pouty lips and large eyes, she pointed at it. But before she could say anything, Yo and Won IMMEDIATELY told Chae-Ryung to buy them with satchel of silvers. She came back and handed the pastries to her little lady. Soo take a bit and made a happy squealing sound shaking her upper body enthusiastically. And it made everyone’s heart throbbed.

“Eeee, tasty~!” Soo said with cute smile.

Then she noticed another stock where she saw a small shop with flowers. She tugged Chae-Ryung, quietly asked her to buy a seeds of flowers. Her tall servant happily obliged.

“What are the flower seeds for?” Wook questioned.

Soo smiled.

“You will see later~.”

She received the seeds and thanked Chae-Ryung. Yeon-Hwa took her to the shop filled with accessories, told her she could choose what she likes. Soo glanced around and saw a pair of simple designed rings with foreign gemstone. Soo recalled from her life in 21st century and she was sure the stone was called as diamonds. Noticing her gaze, the princess purchased them.

“Thank you, princess.” Soo curtsied.

The princes and the girls were tilting their head in confusion.

“Why buying two instead of one?” Woo-Hee asked.

Then, Soo blushed as she nervously had her one feet dancing around, her two hands behind her back and shook her shoulders side to side

“Another one’s for person I want to marry when I grow up…” Soo confessed, then she giggled bashfully.

Oh god. Everyone thought they had a heart attack. So and Wook coughed, blushing as they looked away try to ignore the throb inside their chest.

“Oooh, who’s the lucky man?” Soon-Duk asked, “you told us back when we had a ladies night, please tell us again!”

Soo shook her head no. But when she saw fourth prince, she looked back at everyone, using her index finger on her mouth making a “shh” sound.

“Secret.”

Everyone came back from the market and Soo immediately asked Chae-Ryung where she could plant the flowers. Her maid lead the way to the secluded place in the palace garden. They all watch Hae Soo planting seeds with smile and couldn’t help but wonder what was the girl’s childhood looked like.

D-5 The court ladies were worried for their little head court lady. Some of them already leaned in case Soo might fall. Luckily, she had done a great job. When court lady Oh called out, she quickly but silently walked forward and bowed. Smiling at her, Court Lady Oh told her she may rest since some tasks were too challenging for a girl in such young age. Soo hugged her mentor, thanking her and left. Lady Oh gave other court ladies a stern look when they tried not to smile at the heartwarming scene, but the senior court lady smiled at where the little girl left.

‘So this is what is like to have a daughter…’ She mused.

Hae Soo came out to Damiwon and went to pavilion where everyone else was waiting. Even though Soo was small, she still get to tell everyone stories. She had told many tales that entertained the princes.

“So…this girl was somehow wearing the witch’s shoes that has a color of red jewel? Interesting…” Won nodded his head, interested.

“And all she and her friends needed to grant their wish is to find this wizard.” Baek-Ah concluded.

“Yep. And but the scarecrow already proved his intelligence, tin solder got his heart, and the large lion earned courage. All the girl needed was chanting the spell and clanked her shoes twice.” Soo said with smile.

“Soo, tell us another story. Something exciting!” Eun asked.

“There’s a three sibling who went to this imaginary island with mysterious boy. The boy cannot grow up because he lives there and he fights with pirates.”

And everyone laughed at Soo telling how the pirate captain was humiliated while trying to get away from the crocodile who attempted to eat him. Even Yo, Won, and So stifled their laughter. The older sons from Chungju clan never get to listen to such many stories when they were young boys.

“Hey Soo, can I ask you something?” Woo-Hee asked.

“Yes?”

“When you were young, what kind of dream you had?”

Soo made a thought. When she was at 21st century, she used to tell her mother she used to dream of mysterious prince charming and get married. One time, dreamt of adventures with her imaginary friends.

“I used to dream of marrying a prince.” Soo replied.

And every prince spat their tea, coughing. Woo-Hee patted Baek-Ah’s back as Soon-Duk did the same to Eun.

“What did this prince..looked like?” Woo-Hee asked.

“Umm…he is tall, strong, about some of Wang princes’ age…and…” little Soo blushed then, “and…really handsome.”

“Did you see his face?” Yeon-Hwa asked, amused with the princes’ expressions.

“I don’t remember all…but he was wearing light-colored hanbok.” Soo answered.

“And this prince…is he one of Wang brothers?”

Soo shyly nodded her head.

D-4 Every prince couldn’t sleep, still curious of this man of Soo’s dream. Yeon-Hwa stifled her laugh when she saw the heavy bags under Yo’s eyes, worsening his face condition when he as a eyeliner. He looked ridiculous. Even younger princes were highly curious. But when they tried to ask Soo, she avoided them.

While she ran, her feet stuck on the rock, causing her to trip forward. The princes paled, worried for her. Soo slowly sat on, feeling the stinging pain on her knee as she bit her lips and blinking back her tears. She hiccuped and stifled her sob, her small fists clenching.

“Oh my god, SOO!” Younger princes tried to approach but stopped as So came first.

Fourth prince looked down, seeing little Soo quietly crying but attempting to calm down in vain. The pained expression reminded So of his childhood, beaten by half-crazed Lady Concubine while he tried his best not to cry. Out of compassion, the fourth prince held Soo up and awkwardly patted her head. Fortunately, Soo’s quiet sob was died down.

When he tried to release her, her small hands were clutching on his hanbok refuse to stay away. Soo pouted as if threatening him she would cry if he release her. Sighed in defeat, he remained to hold her and walk. When Jung tried to stop, Baek-Ah prevented him to do so, looking at a peaceful smile the girl made.

Thank goodness, she didn’t have a scratch on her legs since it only have a small bruise. Court Lady Oh warned her to be careful in which Soo wordlessly nodded her head.

D-3 Wook was writing in his study room, heard a knock from the door. Soo came in, Wook smile warmly at her.

“Oh, hello. How are you?”

“I’m fine, your highness,” Soo looked up, “may I ask something?”

Eighth prince nodded his head.

“How old I was when I went to your highness’ residence when Myung-Hee married?”

Wook’s smile faded slightly as he remembered Myung-Hee.

“You were fifteen back then. Myung-Hee wanted to bring you along when your…parents passed away. Although other cousins from Hae didn’t seem to like the idea…”

“Did I brought any burden to you and princess?” Soo asked.

“No…, of course not.” Wook shook his head, “what concerned me and Myung-Hee was…that if you were happy here…”

Soo noticed a saddened expression from eighth prince.

“Like I said previously, I never get a chance to interact with you before…because you have always stayed in your room and didn’t left. You didn’t seemed pleased to stay…”

Soo then wondered how the real Soo was like. Was real Hae Soo kind? Or cold-hearted? Or it was just because her parents passed away? Little Soo walked over and tugged his long blue chŏgori.

“I’m sorry if I had upsetter you…, but I really am thankful for watching over me.”

Wook smiled.

‘And so am I…thank you for staying with us…’ he wanted to speak.

Soo looked around and saw Chae-Ryung who told her she needed a time to sleep. She nodded her head and dismissed herself, leaving eighth prince made a small wave with his hand to her.

D-2 Next morning, Soo came out and was enthusiastically went to the garden until she felt two arms holding her. She looked up and saw Wang So smiling as he held up.

“Now where do you think you’re going, little lady?”

“To the garden,” Soo replied, “would you…like to go along?”

So blinked his eyes, but nodded his head accepting her offer. Thanks to her caring for the flowers, they were beginning to bloom. Soo brought a small basket filled with water and more soil for the flowers. So also helped her along and it took them several hours to finish. Seeing their dirty hands, they decided to go to the pond to wash their hand. Glancing at her with mischievous glint in his eyes, he used his hand to sprinkle the water on her. Surprised, Soo looked at her left side, pouting and she also did the same.

Little did they knew, their little play was watched by two pair of eyes that belonged to Baek-Ah and Wang Mu, smiling at them.

“Aww, ain’t that sweet?” Baek-Ah asked.

“I’m glad our brother regained his usual smile he used to make when he was a child.” Mu said, making a mental note to thank the girl.

D-1 It took a long time to realize that it was possible Soo might not remember what happened for a week after she reverted back to her adult form. Jinn explained that it is possible, but not confirmed. However, thinking of innocent little girl gone away was quite depressing for everyone, hoping Soo will retain the innocence even when she become an adult again.

But during the night, Soo brought a large amount of different flowers in her arms and went to pavilion where everyone was there. Jung noticed her then asked.

“Sister? What are those for?”

Soo put them down and answered with small smile.

“I planned the flower seeds and these were the results.”

Then she contributed different type of flowers that were each person’s respective favorite. Wook looked at Soo with wide eyes.

“Did you bought them just to gave them to us?”

Soo nodded her head.

“Aww, you don’t have to…but how come?” Baek-Ah asked.

“Well…,” then she formed the most innocent, wide smile, “because I love everyone that’s why!”

She made an elated giggle. Everyone stood silent, but some of them were in verge of tears. So and Wook smiled at their favorite flower. Even Soo’s innocence melted Yeon-Hwa’s stone cold heart as she formed a grin. Eun cried in ocean as Soon-Duk tried to calm him. Soo also stimulated the third prince’s emotional persona as he covered his mouth with his hand hiding his sensitive, overly-emotional expression.

‘Oh Buddha…I can’t take it anymore…!’

And Soo was attacked by hugs everywhere. It was one of their BEST week they have ever had.

Epilogue: Soo has reverted back to her young adult form, seemingly unable to remember what happened throughout a week. She got a letter from her five cousins they are visiting her soon, and heard that other princes and princess—including Wang Tae—coming over.

She prepared the teas until she heard the scream from the room where all prince fell asleep. Hurriedly, she stormed towards the chamber and opened the door only to find seven young little boys around the age of five. Her eyes were widened in panic as other girls, including princess Yeon-Hwa came over. Even Wang Mu was shocked at the scene.

The princes have become a children. They all looked at Soo, asking for help. She felt her legs getting numb, inwardly cursing the genie as the real babysitting began.

To be continued…?

Note: Done~! I hope it’s good~! Enjoy reading and don’t forget to comment~!

Previous: http://jknerd.tumblr.com/post/155993115106/everybody-loves-soo-chapter-9-run-princes-run

[supaliaxpress]

A Gift for You

I want to take this time to thank each and every one of my followers, to everyone who has sent me a message (including Anon), to even people who sent me hate messages, to everyone who has liked/reblogged my reviews and posts, and to everyone else who does’t follow me but follow my review tag. You guys are the MVPs for your faith in my reviews and support, for reading my fuckin long reviews! I don’t know how you guys do it, but I applaud you wholeheartedly. I joined the Goblin fandom 4 episodes late and started this blog on December 14th with one post about Our Homegirl Eun-Tak because she deserved so much more recognition compared to the hate she was receiving. However, my side blog became official on December 16th when it became public (I was having some technical issues lol) and I got my first 5 followers! It made me so happy >.< But then I got more and more messages, likes, and reblogs, with each review I wrote. My inbox slowly became more filled with your amazing messages. Some of you even call me sunbae/senpai and that still makes me blush. I received so many notifications of people who messaged me using the IM. I began to learn more about each and every one of you who approached me and before I knew it... we became fangirling buddies and Goblin Trash! And most of all, one month later... I woke up to the notification that I have over 800 followers! WHERE DID YOU ALL COME FROM?! :O You have no idea how shocked I am. 

Gif credit 

So this is my post to show my appreciation for you. For everything. I’ve written my very first fan fiction and what better honor than for it be on Goblin! Honestly, it’s not the best but I truly hope you enjoy it and that you get something out of it whether it be a smile or a laugh. ^^ Gamsahamnida!

A Wet Surprise

Synopsis: Shin accompanies Eun-Tak to Tae-Hee’s last game of the season, but Shin’s jealousy gets a little out of hand. (I’m so sorry... I just live for Shin’s jealousy over Tae-Hee lmao... and GR is KS x ET #1 shipper!) 

This story was inspired by these posts about Gong Yoo in a towel, lol (post 1 and 2)

Pairing: Kim Shin x Ji Eun-Tak

Word Count: 3,018

Genre: A little Angst, Fluff, Romance, Slight NSFW?, Basically to fulfill my needs for my OTP lol

“Ji Eun-Tak, what do you think you’re looking at, hah?!”

Eun-Tak rolled her eyes in amusement at the obviously aggravated goblin. Tae-Hee oppa had messaged Eun-tak a few days ago if she could come see their last game of the season. Of course she said yes… it was the least she could do for her oppa who had done so much for her when they were kids. But the trouble was actually getting to the game in one piece because a certain goblin wouldn’t let her go on her own. Eun-tak stole a glance towards Shin. A small giggle slipped from between her rosy lips while looking at a very aggravated goblin whose arms were crossed in front of his chest, as he looked in the opposite direction as if to ignore her.

“Ahjussi, let me enjoy the game at least… after all… Tae-Hee oppa invited me to this game. It would only be fair if I actually watched him play, right?” Eun-tak tugged at Shin’s right sleeve trying to get his attention.

Shin exhaled a heavy sigh in defeat, faced her, and pointed towards Tae-Hee at home plate: “Araso… Araso… you can watch the game but you can’t look at Tae-Hee.”

“Haaa?! Ahjussi! Why can’t I watch Tae-Hee oppa?” Eun-tak exclaimed while shaking Shin’s left arm. Eun-tak was confused as to why she couldn’t watch oppa play… not like he was naked. She just wanted to see him hit the ball, just like he did when he was a child, once more before he went overseas. And best of all, she was enjoying the game with the best company she could ever imagine to experience it with.

After a few seconds of Eun-tak’s pleading, something snapped. “Aigo… It’s because he’s handsome, right?” Shin could feel his whole face burn... but he couldn’t tell if it was due to anger, embarrassment, or a mixture of both. “Of course young girls like you, come to games like these, to fawn over boys like him! Boys who are good at sports and have a nice body to look at! Fine! If you want to look at him… just look at him! There’s nothing for me to envy anyways. I was the one who granted him the miracle just like any other!”

Tae-Hee hit a homerun, but unfortunately both Shin and Eun-Tak missed the big hit. The drive home was silent. Tae-Hee’s team won the game.

“So, Eun-Tak… how’d you like the game? Uhhh… Eun-tak? Yeoboseyo?”

“Ahhh, I’m so sorry oppa!” Eun-Tak mentally cursed at herself for being in a daze while Tae-Hee was speaking with her. She firmly grasped her phone, “Oh, the game… it was so much fun! You were so cool!”

“You don’t have to say that just to cheer me… up even though we lost the game.”  

Ah. Ji Eun-Tak, you are so stupid! “I’m sorry oppa, you’re right, but you were still really cool. Really! Oh, look at the time; you must be tired from your game so I’ll let you rest. Good night.”

“Good night, Eun-Tak.” Tae-Hee looked at his phone… “But we actually won.”

Eun-tak fell onto her bed and hugged her only friend who listened to her. “You know, Mr. Buckwheat, I think I hurt Tae-Hee oppa’s feelings. But even more, I think Ahjussi was hurt.” She closed her eyes and pulled Mr. Buckwheat closer to her chest, “Because of him, I couldn’t even focus on the game.”  

Foolish goblin. Shin paced back and forth in front of his bed. All he could think about was how Eun-tak’s face fell when he shouted those harsh words at her. Her tears. “Kim Shin, maybe you should have asked her to pull the sword. Death would have been a wise choice in that situation.” He stopped in his tracks as he heard Eun-tak fall onto her bed. “She must be asleep now… because of you, I can’t sleep.”

Stretching her arms in the air, “What a good night’s res–” Pit-pat… pit-pat… The sound of raindrops softly knocked on her window as Eun-Tak slowly opened her eyes to confirm her unwelcomed visitor. Rain. At the end of Autumn.  

“Anyo… haseyo… Mr. Reaper.” It didn’t feel like a good morning at all with the gloomy weather… with a certain gloomy god.

“Good morning…” Reaper paused for moment – deciding whether if she would know the answer or not. Well, if it concerned that person… who else would it be? “Missing Soul, there’s something I must ask of you. It’s about that –”

“Goblin… is who you’re going to say, right?”

“Ah, well… yes, you’re correct about that. But…” He stuttered to think about what to say next, “I was ACTUALLY going to first ask about Ms. Sun-Hee. Yes.” Feeling embarrassed that he was even slightly worried about that goblin confused Reaper beyond reason, but that goblin had been acting oddly all morning. No… to be more precise… all night, and especially with the unannounced weather. It certainly ruined his plans to walk around with Sunny after work. “Because of him, he ruined my plans with her, so I was going to ask for your help.”

“Oh, my help… I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’ll be able to help you with this one.” Eun-tak casted her eyes towards the floor in guilt as the memories of yesterday’s event flooded her mind. It wasn’t his fault. She should never have said those words in the first place. It was selfish of her. For a moment, she almost forgot that it had happened yesterday, but perhaps she was only fooling herself because she hasn’t spoken with Shin ever since. “I think it would be best if you just visit Ms. Boss at her restaurant.”

“If you got into an argument. Just apologize. That goblin always listens to you.”

Reaper watched her shoulders slump forwards as she shuffled to the kitchen. Something definitely happened between those two and he wasn’t about to get into the middle of it. However, he couldn’t let this situation slide either… knowing that the rain would continue to fall for as long as that goblin was sad. “Aish, those two better repay me back for all that I do for them.”

At the seaside shore where they first met, Shin gazed out into the endless ocean. The smell of salt stung the air… as well as his eyes.

“There’s nothing for me to envy anyways. I was the one who granted him the miracle just like any other! ... Without me, you wouldn’t be able to see your Tae-Hee!” Once the words left his mouth, he immediately wished he could take them back.

“So… Ahjussi… I see…” Shin’s words choked Eun-tak as she struggled to string her own words together in a barely faint whisper… trying to understand what he meant, “I’m just like any other… to you, then? I’m sorry… I forgot that I’m only just a small passing moment… in your long life. I never asked to be one of your miracles.”

“Eun-Tak… I didn’t mean that….” Shin reached for her shoulders to comfort her, but he dropped his hand. The words that he wanted to really say, the actions that he wanted to really show… he couldn’t do them at the sight of the slight movement of her shoulders because he was the reason for it.

Stupid rain. Stop falling. Well, if it wasn’t for his insensible jealousy that snapped, perhaps they could have at least enjoyed the game… perhaps he could have at least enjoyed seeing Eun-Tak have fun at the game. That was most important and yet he ruined it for her. He glanced at his watch and noticed the time… how long has he been standing here for? “I should return now… it’s almost time for lunch.”

The front door swung open and a gust of cold wind blew out a few candles. Shin walked in with a bag of groceries and a drenched coat. “Reaper, you are doing laundry?” He quickly disposed his coat in front of Reaper and placed the groceries on the counter all in a matter of seconds. “Dry this for me then.”

“These are already dry!”

But it was a second too late to lecture the goblin as he quickly entered his bedroom and shut the door. However, Reaper had already anticipated this much, such as the saying, “Sometimes you have to give people a taste of their own medicine.” Besides, that person never does the laundry.

It seemed like hours had already passed and yet it was only noon. The notes in front of her seemed to float off the page… just like her mind. Is it still raining? Is he still sad? Is it still thundering? Is he still mad? Ah… even in times like this, all she could think about was him. “I want to talk with you…”

“Missing Soul.” A sudden knock at her bedroom door awoke her from her thoughts.

She clucked her tongue at the sudden abruption, while walking towards the door, “Aiyaa, Mr. Reaper… can’t you read the sign, it says—”

“Please don’t disturb.” Reaper quoted through the door. “Now would you please open this door? I have a request for you.”

Letting out a deep sigh, Eun-Tak opened the door while giving the Reaper her best-displeased face she could muster… slightly twitching the corner of her mouth and scrunching her nose. Though she was relieved for the distraction because she couldn’t focus on her notes anyways.

She cleared her throat, “Ehem, this better be good for wasting my precious studying time.”

Reaper handed freshly cleaned and neatly folded towels to Eun-Tak. She gave the towels a look of confusion. “Um, Mr. Reaper… I already have enough towels.”

“No, these are for the goblin. He doesn’t have any more towels because he never does his laundry. So can you go place these in his bathroom?” Reaper slightly bowed his head, “Sorry and thank you. I figured it would be best for his bride to enter his room… when he’s not around… instead of me.”

She stared at Shin’s bedroom wooden door… more like a tall door that stood in between her and Shin. She shook her head to clear her mind and took a deep gulp as she placed her hand on the doorknob. The doorknob was cold to the touch as she softly turned it with her hand. Eun-Tak murmured politely as she stepped into Shin’s room, “Excuse me.” With a quick glance to ensure Shin was indeed not present, she let out a sigh of relief. “It’s so lonely in here. Ah, there’s the bathroom… did he forget to turn off the lights?”

It didn’t really help to take a shower right after standing in the rain for so long –specifically if he just stood there in cold silence, again... like he did at the ocean. Even after attempting to wash away the deep sadness that enveloped his entire being with a shower, it was no match to cleanse him of Eun-Tak’s tears. He punched his fist against the wet shower wall as he tried to think of a way to invite her to lunch, in an approachable way, in a few minutes.

Maybe he could pretend like it never happened?

No. He immediately shook his head at the atrocious idea.

Maybe he could apologize by taking her on a trip to Canada?

Yes. He grinned widely at the pleasant idea. She would like that.

He turned and opened the shower door, while happily humming with the widest grin at the thought of them enjoying some delicious steak together.

She turned the knob and opened the bathroom door, while thinking to herself she would quickly place the towels on the rack and get out.

Perhaps time froze because the water dripping from the showerhead stopped midway. Perhaps Eun-Tak was dreaming because she saw the godliest creature in her life stand before her in the bathroom. Perhaps Shin was too excited for his date with Eun-Tak as he saw her before him with the most gorgeous red lips and blushed cheeks – that he could almost kiss her. But one thing was for sure; they could sense the beating of each other’s pounding hearts, hear the sound of each other’s hiked breaths, and feel each other’s burning gazes. This was real.

“Ah… AHHH… AHHHH! Why?! Why?! Why are you standing there Ji Eun-Tak?!” Aghast and back to reality, Shin hurriedly motioned for Eun-Tak to close the door while reaching for a tow— Why the hell was there no towel?!

“Ah… Ahjussi! You’re here! Well… I mean there! Well… In the bathroom!”

Oh dear god, since she was born and was given this miraculous life… she always tried to live a pure and good one that her mother would see fit. But bless her soul today, as her mind tried to refuse the thought… but her eyes could not help but travel on their on accord. The glow from the glistening beads of water on his body was not making it any easier. His broad shoulders that can protect you from any danger. His slender abs that can crush you with one glance at them. His… Daebak… my mister’s asset is well gifted. Eun-Tak slapped herself. What the hell are you thinking about at a time like this?!

In desperation… Shin did the one thing he could only do in that moment since his powers did not work on Eun-Tak, he teleported himself from the shower door to the front of his bedroom door. The story of the lonely and great goblin.

Reaper heard screams coming from Shin’s room and smiled contently at this masterpiece. It was fun to mess with that goblin. 

“Oi! Let me borrow that towel!”

Perhaps God was not only on Reaper’s side today either, for he witnessed the most disturbing thing, other than missing souls, in his 300 years as a grim reaper… a naked goblin.

“I’ll have to meet Ms. Sun-Hee, whether rain or shine today, to purify my eyes.” Reaper looked out the window, “Oh, it seems the rain has stopped.”

Shin wrapped the towel around his waist as he entered his bathroom. “You! Why did you enter without knocking?”

“Ahjussi… I know! Mr. Reaper… he was the one who told me to come in here and place your towels!” Eun-Tak squinted her eyes to avoid Shin’s piercing gaze. It was stupid of her to believe that grim reaper. Why would he purposely lie to her unless… ‘If you got into an argument. Just apologize. That goblin always listens to you.’

“Tsk. That Reaper… I’m going to—”

“Mianhe.” Eun-Tak whispered. Words fumbled out of her mouth, “Really… I’m sorry for what I said yesterday… it wasn’t your fault at all. I shouldn’t feel entitled just because I’m the Goblin’s bride. It’s because of you; I’m still alive and breathing well. I’m also sorry for walking in on you. I didn’t mean to stare so much… it’s just I—”

Before Eun-Tak could finish her sentence, her lips met with Shin’s wet lips and the scent of his freshly washed hair. She wasn’t sure whether it was because they had an argument yesterday or that she was missing Shin’s presence, but her mind completely went blank as the white towels she was supposed to deliver fell to the floor.

She wrapped her slender arms around his muscular shoulders as he gently lifted her onto the bathroom counter so that he could see her entire visage. He planted short kisses along her jaw line and caressed her face – the feel of her skin drove him crazy. Eun-Tak let out a soft moan at Shin’s touch and a feeling he’d never experienced before in all of his 939 years enveloped him. But what drove him crazier was when she nibbled on his bottom lip asking for more attention and he happily replied. Her lips were so soft… so plump… so sweet. He tasted her lips tentatively with his tongue, asking for permission. Eun-Tak – with a gasp of surprise – parted her shaking lips as his tongue slipped in between, while evoking feelings from within her that she’d never imagine. Their tongues tangled in a dance while they explored each other’s mouths... going deeper and growing hotter with every second. Their foreheads pressed, they parted for air while heavily panting against each other… unable to make sense of what just happened.

“You…. Eun-Tak…. You don’t need to apologize.” Shin panted in between, trying to recollect his thoughts. “I want you to feel entitled… because… because… you have been special to me long before—” Shin cupped her face so that he could gaze directly into her bright endless-brown eyes, “Long before I’ve met you as my bride. I did not make you. You are the miracle. Remember that.”

Before she knew it, tears welled up in her eyes and she couldn’t make out the medley of emotions she was feeling. With just a single phrase from him, all of her worries were swept away. She realized… that was all that she wanted to know… the feeling of being wanted and accepted for who she was. Not just because he was the goblin. Not just because she was his bride. Because they made each other happy.

“Also, I’m sorry too.” Shin whispered into her ear. “I was… jealous because you kept looking at Tae-Hee that it made me almost regret helping him.”

Eun-Tak giggled. “Ahjussi, Tae-Hee oppa is indeed handsome and talented…”

“You don’t need to remind m—”

Eun-Tak grabbed Shin’s face towards her so that this time, it was her gazing into his deep mysterious dark-brown eyes: “My mister is the most handsome and talented of all!” She scrunched her nose as she pecked his lips. “Remember that! Oh, and has the best body too! Hehe… you should start showing off more. You’d be even cooler.”

Grinning from ear to ear, Shin embraced her tightly and cooed in her silky hair: “Araso… Araso… I’ll start showing off more so you won’t stare at other boys. By the way, Eun-Tak, what do you want for desert after lunch?”

“Hmm… Seconds please.”  

[voyages-extraordinaires]

CR: ~VE~ Chapter 19

Another month passes in a whirlwind of metal and steam.

I spend as much time as I can observing Barbicane, Smith, Nemo, and Cardia’s work. They’re like a machine creating a machine, perfect synchronicity.

But soon the work becomes too big to hide, and I’m inelegantly tossed out of the warehouse.

I stand at the closed door, my hands on my hips.

“What, exactly, is the point of this?” I doubt I’m loud enough for any of them to hear me, but it feels empowering to raise my voice. “I’ve seen the blueprints! It’s not a secret!”

I feel like a child being kept out of the drawing room on Christmas Eve, but I know that I would be wasting time trying to sneak glimpses in.

I can practically hear Fogg chiding me from across the ocean, so I decide to occupy myself by going on miniature ‘expeditions’ across the island.

When I make the suggestion to Smith over dinner, she’s all too eager to be my guide.

“Not that I’m ungrateful for the opportunity Professor Barbicane and Professor Nemo gave me, but it’s like the two of them are speaking an entirely different language. Even I, the greatest American engineer, can’t keep up... maybe I should call them ‘sensei’ after all.”

She sighs dejectedly, and I pat her arm.

“And poor Cardia! She’s been busy trying to get the professors to eat and sleep! They always encourage me to take care of myself, but if I suggest that they take a night off...”

The both of us begrudgingly decide to leave the boys to their fate and proceed with our exploration of the island.

After that, my weeks are filled with discovery, contemplation, and study. I should be thrilled, but...

I cannot stop myself from worrying about Nemo.

I even leave the door to my room unlocked in the hopes that maybe...

But my bed is always empty.

There’s not even a hint of lavender oil on the pillows.

I feel pathetic acting like this. When did I become so needy?

I’ve always had friends, even when I was at the university. Conseil was my constant companion, but I never longed for him like this. Even my romantic partners, the men and women who filled my life and my body-- I never craved them the way I crave him.

I’d be happy just to see Nemo again, even if we didn’t touch. Just to see his smile, hear his loud laugh.

.....

But, despite how badly I want it, I’m still surprised to return one evening to see him asleep on my bed.

As much as I would love to comment on his beauty, he looks rather... ‘exhausted’ would be an apt word. There are rings around his eyes from his goggles, and he didn’t even bother to take off his boots before collapsing on my bed.

I want to wake him, to hold him tightly and tell him how much I missed him. But he looks so peaceful, he’s not even snoring.

I smile a little to myself as I walk over and sit down on the bed, unsure of what to do.

His eyebrows furrow at the movement and he slowly opens his eyes, blinking up at me.

“Polly-chan...” his voice is raspy with exhaustion, and his smile is weak. “It’s doooooone...”

I look down at him, unsure if I understand what he’s saying.

“It’s done?” I repeat. “You mean, you mean the submarine?!”

He nods weakly, and in my excitement I fling myself on him and throw my arms around his neck, sending the pillows flying.

“Nemo!!” I cry, burying my head in his shoulder. “You wonderful, wonderful genius--!!”

That warmth... it’s so good to feel him again. Sparks are flying throughout my body as I pepper his neck with affectionate kisses.

He yelps, but eventually settles down and wraps an arm around my shoulders with a sigh. “We’re doing an underwater test for it tomorrow. If it’s succeeeessful, there won’t... beeee aaaaanything... stoooopping....”

But he closes his eyes before he can finish his thought, and soon he begins snoring loudly.

I watch him for a while-- for someone who’s so amazingly loud, even in his sleep, he still looks peaceful.

I try to slide myself out so that I can turn out the electric light, but Nemo’s grip on me is firm. I try again, and he mumbles something incoherently before nuzzling his cheek into my hair.

I laugh quietly and settle down in his arms, my bed for the night seemingly dictated.

“Goodnight, my mad scientist,” I whisper before closing my own eyes.

-----

“It’s bigger than I thought it would be...” I breathe, unable to contain my excitement.

“Mm~hmm, it really is something I can be proud of,” Nemo replies as he puffs his chest out..

“How... wide is it, exactly? Do you think it’ll be comfortable?”

Nemo smirks, “Well, I’m used to tiiiiiiight spaces.”

I swallow, then look up at him. “If... if you’re experienced with it, then, I guess...” I reach out towards it before hesitating.

Nemo takes my hand and kisses my knuckles before guiding my fingers to it.

My hand is trembling, but I finally touch it. “It’s beautiful...”

This makes Nemo giggle. “It is~! I can’t wait until that moment when I’m finally insiiiide...”

“M-Me too... I’ve waited so long...”

“Uh-huh! 30 meters from stem to stern, cylindrical, a cool and sleek beauty to tame the wilds of the blue!” Barbicane chimes in, happily slapping the side of the submarine.

I pull my hand away from the metal, smiling. “She really is gorgeous. Oh, Nemo, I know I’ve said it before, but you are a genius!”

“Yeeeeeees--! Say it again, say it louder! I! AM! A! GEEEEEENIIUUUUSSSS!”

“Oy, Polly-chan! Don’t make that guy’s head bigger than it is already!” Barbicane sighs loudly. “Geez, what can a guy do to get a little credit around here...”

“Impey Barbicaaaane... do you need a hug of recognition?” Nemo leers over at him.

Barbicane jumps back, shaking his head. “Unless your name is Cardia, that’s an easy ‘NO’!”

But it’s obvious that Nemo is relishing the attention. He’s swaying gleefully, like a child who just got praised.

It’s darling.

Thanks to Smith’s devoted workers, we’re able to safely get the submarine in the sea, in the harbor built just for this grand event.

Even though the metal is a brassy color, I can’t help but compare it to a jewel floating in the sea. It’s breathtaking. It almost looks like a living thing, a mysterious cryptid of the sea calling for me to follow it.

“By the waaaay, Polly-chan...” Nemo looks over at me. “I was hoping to get some input on the crew.”

Crew?

Yes, I suppose with something this big, it’s not a two-person job. I swallow my disappointment.

“How many people do you think we’ll need?” I ask.

Nemo idly runs a hand through his hair. “I thiiiiiiiiink.... two more people should just about cover it!” He’s trying to look cool, but the way he’s shifting his weight from one foot to the next betrays his anxiety.

And he’s clearly glancing in Barbicane’s direction.

“Impey Barbicaaaaaane...” he starts, but then he wrinkles his nose and looks away, muttering loudly to himself: “No... not yeeeet. The experiment hasn’t been fiiiinished yet....”

He looks back at me and I see his eyes narrow behind his goggles.

“The results aren’t concluuuuuusive yeeeeeeet....”

Results... my results?

That’s right, the submarine isn’t the only ‘project’ he’s working on. He also considers me a project.

My heart pounds when I remember that. It’s a twisted form of conditioning, but isn’t all love, in a way? It’s all so selfish, so hungry...

I try not to think about it too much. It’s true that I’ve been completely entangled in this scientist’s web, but did I not put myself there willingly? I handed him the rope with which he could tie me, so to speak.

And here are the results of one experiment: this beautiful chariot that will carry us across the Atlantic.

What will be the results of the other one...? What will we create...?

“Hee hee hee...” Nemo’s laugh sounds dangerous, and Barbicane instinctively takes a step away. “Weeelllll then, what are we waaaaiiting for?! Let’s climb abooooooard!”

It really is a spectacular ship. As Nemo helps me down the ladder, I slowly look around to take it all in.

I bring my hands to my face, covering my mouth to hide the cry of joy that threatens to escape my mouth. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted! It’s a beautiful palace of science, a majestic place where I can finally penetrate places no one else has discovered--! Finally...

The submarine is broken down into four main rooms, each sealable and watertight in case the unthinkable happens (this was Cardia’s design idea, a fact that Barbicane was very proud to point out).

The room we entered is, unsurprisingly, the bridge. This is the biggest of the rooms, and all four of us can fit comfortably in it. Though there are two large portholes, there is also a periscope for viewing things at a distance.

I stand on my tiptoes to peer through, and Nemo pulls it down to my height.

“How high can it go?” I’m chattering like a child as I look around.

“10 meters,” says Nemo, putting a hand on my shoulder to steady me.

I turn around and look up at him. Apparently my expression alone asks my question, because he giggles and nods before showing me how to make the periscope ascend.

I eagerly make it go as high as it can before I begin to look around.

“This island is beautiful...” I whisper. “I’ve seen it so many different ways, but this is the most magnificent... framed in metal and blue...”

I lower the periscope again to peer at the scientists on the dock, and smile when I see Smith point at the submarine. She energetically waves towards the periscope, and I wave back until I realize that she can’t see me. I pull away and laugh at myself, wiping tears from my eyes.

The second room is the living quarters. Four bunks are lined up against the walls, betraying Nemo’s innocent ‘hypothesis’ that the submarine was meant for four people. He had planned on this from the beginning. It’s rather precious, in a strange way.

I nudge him with my elbow and gesture to the beds. “Four bunks?”

“Mm... I doubt we’ll have the same sleep schedule, Polly-chan, but I suppose we could crash in the salon if you need some snuuuuuuggle time~”

I feel hot blood rush to my cheeks. “T-That’s not what I was talking about!”

He just grins, and I swear I see a wink behind his goggles. He knew exactly what I was referring to, and dodged my line of questioning effortlessly!

This room itself is spartan, and I’m surprised that not only a bathing area but a small galley has somehow been crammed inside. Nemo is very proud of the desalination device he created, and he orders us all to sample the water.

Barbicane lifts his glass. “A toast, then! A toast to water that doesn’t taste like it came straight from the ocean!”

“Nnghh.. that’s a pretty lousy toast, Impeeeey Barbicaaane...” says Nemo. 

“Fine, fine...” Barbicane sighs. “Then what about a toast to our beautiful assistant, the radiant Cardia-chan!”

I begin to raise my glass to that, but Cardia shakes her head. “Why not to the submarine itself?”

I shrug, putting my glass back down. “Come to think of it, I haven’t learned the name of this beauty yet.”

“Ahahaha... weeeeeell, I was hoping to save the official christening for our voyage, but now is a good time as any!” Nemo raises his glass. “Maaaaaaaaaay IIIIIII present! To! You! The Harper!”

It's like hearing her name gives even more life to the submarine as four friends clink their glasses.

“Aaah, but this place is a little too cramped to enjoy a driiink, isn’t it? Come, come, follow meeee~!”

The next room is the crown jewel of the submarine: the salon.

It’s a shocking contrast to the starkness of the rest of the submarine, perhaps alluding to the passions of its creator hiding behind layer after layer of anguish.

Or, perhaps he just wanted a nice room for his pipe organ.

And what a pipe organ it is, so large it takes up almost the entirety of one of the walls. Across from it is the porthole that dwarfs me, towering so high and wide that we would have to dive quite far for the ocean surface to be hidden from my view.

Unable to stop myself, I run up to it with a giddiness that betrays my childish excitement. I’m not alone, though, as Cardia is soon next to me, looking out at the waves gently sloshing against the rounded pane.

“I could stay here forever...” I breathe.

I don’t know why, but I suddenly feel swallowed by my emotions. I look away and wipe my eyes, hoping that nobody else notices. I’ve wanted to be here for so long, and here we are, floating on that endless sea. That sea where my freedom dwells.

“Then stay,” I hear Nemo behind me. I turn around to look at him, and Cardia hurriedly takes Barbicane by the arm.

“You want to show me the engine room, right?” she says, practically shoving him through the door.

The door shutting behind them is the signal, and Nemo and I quickly find ourselves in each others arms again. Our hands grip at the fabric separating us, savoring the barriers between us, torturing ourselves by feeling our bodies shift beneath as our hands roam over backs, chests, hips, thighs, necks, hair...

I move to finally kiss Nemo, but he turns his head so that my lips fall on the corner of his mouth. I let out a longing sigh, but show my respect for his choice by trailing my kisses up his cheek instead. I finish with a kiss on his nose, and then both of us burst out laughing.

“Just a liiiiiiiiiiiiiiittle longer!” Nemo rubs my back. “You made meeeee wait, and now I’m doing the same for yooooou! Fwee hee hee~ just until this beaaauuuty can sink beneath the waves and our success is assuuuuured!”

He cups my cheek in his hand, smiling gleefully at me.

“Yes, that look of adoration on your face, surely- surely diving beneath the sea will complete my experiment!” He leans in rubs his cheek against mine. “And when it’s finally done, when you’re finally mine completely, then...”

He pulls me close to him and hugs me tight, leaning his chin on my shoulder. “I will give you freeeeedom! I will give you happiness.... the only way I caaaan!”

-----

Barbicane, Cardia, and Nemo are on the bridge-- with Nemo at the helm, of course.

We’re sailing out to an acceptable depth for a submerged tour circling the island. This will be our test, and if we’re successful the next step will be our voyage!

As much as I wanted to be near Nemo, he told me that I would have a better view of the wildlife from the salon.

We’re sailing along the insular shelf, which can reach up to about 100 fathoms deep, so we won’t have to go out too far to dive.

I hear static over the intercom.

“Laaaaadies and geeeentle-men!”

Nemo’s voice is so ridiculous, I’m a little embarrassed at how it affects me.

“Engiiiiine... STANDBYYYYYYYYYY!!”

I hear Barbicane in the background: “You don’t have to yell that over the intercom, I’m right here!”

I hear footsteps, and soon Barbicane walks through, giving me a smile and a wave as he heads into the back.

A moment passes, and the submarine begins to hum.

“Prepare to DIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE!!”

I have to cover my ears from the loudness of Nemo’s voice, but the spectacle in front of me makes the ringing in my ears worth it.

We’re diving.

Bubbles begin flying up past the porthole as the surface world disappears into liquid space.

It feels like we’ve entered into a more forgiving sky, plains of coral and rock stretching out beneath us like tiny buildings.

It takes all of my willpower not to press my face against the porthole.

It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

“Noooow, my most precious guests, sit down and relax while I take you on a tour of this Mysteeeeeerious Islaaaaaaaaand!”

I can’t sit and relax, though. All I can do is stare at the life slowly flitting by like birds.

I’m glad I have a sketchbook nearby, because soon Cardia bursts into the room and excitedly points out the porthole.

“There’s a pod of dolphins ahead,” she says, an excited smile on her face. “I’ve never seen one in person before!”

Cardia and I are standing side-by-side when the dolphins come into view. My hands are trembling as I hold my charcoal.

They’re so close to the Harper that I can see every detail up close.

I sink into the chaise lounge and begin sketching furiously.

We pass various schools of fish like tuna and swordfish, and I’m busy sketching a particularly lovely tuna when Nemo opens the door to the salon.

“Enjoying the tooooour?” he looks over my shoulder at my sketches.

“There’s so much, I don’t know where to begin. I’m drawing as fast as I can...”

“And what about you, Cardia-chan?”

Cardia looks back at us from the porthole and smiles. “It’s exciting. It really feels like the limits of science have been pushed. If we continue like this, I know that Impey will have no trouble reaching the moon!”

“How cuuuuute....” but Nemo’s voice trails off as he looks through the porthole. “Oh-- ohohoho!” He suddenly grins and runs up to the porthole. “Looks like I get to test this out sooner than I thought!” He slides over to the wall next to the porthole and pulls a switch.

A small panel in the floor opens and something that looks like a small phonograph slowly rises.

“What is that?” I ask as Cardia and I walk over to it.

“It’s a hydrophone~” he says. “We’ll be able to hear them! Listen, listen!”

Though we aren’t sure what we’re listening for, we lean in close and listen.

Soon, we hear something. It’s an eerie, echoing noise.

“It sounds... sad...” I whisper.

Nemo tilts his head and gestures to the porthole. I hear Cardia gasp, and I follow her gaze.

In the distance, I see a shadow sailing through the tides like a dirigible.

This time, I can’t stop myself from putting my hands on the porthole and getting as close to the glass as I can.

“It’s a humpback whale,” I murmur. “The males will sing to each other as a form of socialization... I wonder if this one is looking for its companions.”

I can’t begin to describe the beauty of that solitary giant, its lonely call reverberating through the salon.

“It looks just like an angel...” my sentimentality is making my words sound poetic than scientific, but the spectacle in front of me is shaking me down to my very soul.

Soon, the whale drifts out of view, its song fading into the nothingness of the blue. Nemo hits the switch again, and the hydrophone disappears back into the floor. He nods to both of us before leaving with a flourish, sweeping his coat behind him.

“He’s really in his element like this, isn’t he?” Cardia shakes her head. “I wonder if Impey will be like this once he gets into space. .... Pauline?”

I look away from the porthole, wiping my eyes.

“I’m sorry, I just...” I dab my cheeks with a handkerchief. “It’s funny, I didn’t bring this kerchief for myself!”

-----

We spend most of the day sailing around the island. My hands are aching from trying to draw so much, I just can’t keep up with all the life I’m seeing!

But all too soon we’re pulling back into the harbor, to the cheers of Cyrene Smith and her followers.

We’re quickly ushered inside to write our report over a grand dinner. It holds no candle to Barbicane’s cooking, but I’m grateful all the same.

Everybody is so happy... I will truly remember this day. I never thought I would be able to explore this other world, so close to us and yet inaccessible to man.

But I’m not ready for it to end yet, so instead of retiring to the barracks I walk back out to the harbor.

The Harper is still there, of course, glorious in the golden hues of the setting sun. I walk up to her and whisper, “You are so beautiful... it’s all I can do to stand before you.”

“Hmmm~ you miiiiight have missed your calling as a poet!”

I look over to see Nemo approaching the harbor. When he’s in front of me, he grins. “Buuuuut I’m grateful that you ignored that and pursued the gloooorious path of science!”

I laugh and nervously push a strand of loose hair behind my ear. “If I’m gifted at poetry, then how come I can’t think of anything to say right now?”

“Ahhh~ maybe because it’s the researcher who should be doing the talking instead of the test subject, yeeeees~?”

I swallow nervously when he puts his hands on my shoulders.

“Ufufu... you still have that look in your eyes that you did when we first met at the prison. That wonder, that bewilderment, that hungry curiosity...” he lifts my chin up so he can look at me better. “But there’s something deeper to it now, isn’t there? Yes, you said as much that night when we saw my cousin off. But even more, now, tell me--”

He sucks in his breath.

“Do you adore my genius? Will you follow my pursuits to your most extreeeeeme limits?” He trails his gloved fingertips over my mouth. “You already love my creation, the beautiful achievement floating in the water there, but... Professor... my cute, cute professooor... will you take everything I have to give~?”

I can barely say ‘yes’ before our mouths meet. I’m not even sure who leaned in more, who instigated, which one of us gripped the other first and smashed our bodies against each other.

It’s hot, both the humidity and the force of our first kiss. It wasn’t beautiful, not in the least. It was desperate and needy, like our kisses were the only things that could save us from our gnawing loneliness.

Not just our lips, but our teeth and tongues meet, biting and licking and expressing all the shameful and disgusting thoughts we’ve been harboring ever since we met!

When he pulls away to wipe his mouth, I grab him by his long hair and pull him back down to my height.

“You made me--” I lick his lips. “-- Wait for--” a kiss on his chin. “--Half of a--” I put my mouth over his and slide my tongue in as deep as it can go before pulling back for air. “--A damn year!”

Nemo pushes me back, and before I realize what’s happening he has me shoved against the side of the Harper.

“Then teeeeell me!” he grins, his expression muddled with lust and deranged by genius. “Tell me it wasn’t worth every bit of that aaaaagony!”

I pull him back in by the collar. He braces himself against the submarine with both hands, pinning me in-between him and his creation. It’s like his kisses are infecting me with his madness, from my mouth to my jawline and even lower. His breath is hot in my ear, and I shriek in delight when I finally feel him close his mouth over my throat, pressing his teeth into my skin like I wanted him to all those months ago.

I suppose it’s this fairy-tale vampire kiss that finally makes us both slow down. I can feel our pulses throbbing against each other, my blood pounding in my ears as the ache of my neck begins to match the ache coming from inside my body.

Nemo finally pulls back and licks his lips, even though he wasn’t close to drawing blood. Then he leans his forehead against mine and we concentrate on our breathing, slowly realizing that we won’t disappear from each other’s arms.

I slowly, raggedly wrap my arms around his neck and hug him tight, whispering my confession so only he can hear: “I love you.”

He pulls me back away from the submarine and onto the harbor, returning my hug.

“Saying ‘thank you’... isn’t enough, is it?” he whispers, and I feel his lips curve into a smile. “Theeeen... I’ll say the same thing. ‘I love you’, my cute... cute professor. My Polly-chan. I really... reeeeeaaaaaalllly.... love you.”

We let go of one another and he looks down at me, the rising moon casting him in shades as blue as the sea nearby.

It’s strange, but for a moment he looks... torn. Torn and very, very sad.

But in the next moment, he draws me back in to him. “And now, I’ll make you happy the only way I can~”

This time, the kiss is gentle. We’re able to feel the softness of our lips instead of trying to devour each other.

He runs his fingers through my hair and tilts my head back before kissing me again.

I feel a pinch at the base of my neck, and I wince, but Nemo’s kiss distracts me from any other thoughts.

But, I feel my grip on him beginning to slip. My mouth grows heavy, and soon falls slack against Nemo’s skin.

I’m... exhausted.

He cradles me in his arms, my body heavy and my mind groggy.

As I slip away, he pulls back one of his hands, and I see a needle glint in the moonlight. An empty syringe.

I look up at him, at the smile still on his face despite what he’s done.

“Ne..... mo...”

He quietly shushes me and kisses my forehead, petting my hair until I fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.