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frostsinth · 4 years ago

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Royal Flush - Pt. 7

Part 1|2|3|4|5|6 - MasterList - Art - Art - Art - Art - Art

I am both sorry and not sorry. I really wanted to post this part because I think everyone will like it a lot. I hope you guys enjoy it. Of course... I will assure you that the next part is well underway, so you don’t perhaps try to murder me in my sleep when you reach the end.

Like what you see? Check out my MasterList above for more stories! Feel free to BuyMeACoffee for a starving artist, and if you’re interested, DM me for commission prices/details. As always, much love and appreciation for each and every one of you!

Enjoy!

The next few days passed by in such a blur, I hardly even registered them. My mornings would start with a training spar session with Damjan, who peppered in goblinese vulgarities and unsolicited relationship advice, much to my chagrin. Usually this was followed by an hour or two where I was left to my own devices. I had utilized my new charmed eyes and Seoc’s willing company to explore the top levels of the castle, but had promptly decided this was not the best use of my freedom the third time Seoc had to take the lead to bring me back to my quarters. It was during one of these excursions that we brooched the subject of my need for more clothes (Seoc politely alluded to it, for which I was extremely grateful) and it was arranged for a tailor to be commissioned for a few new outfits similar to the ones I had brought. The first was ready within a day, and I found it lovely despite the slight over embellishments of gold thread at the sleeves and collars on even the tunic and trousers as well as the vest and (thankfully) matching jacket. It seemed the tailor couldn’t completely resist their decadent nature (it probably seemed a horribly dull project to them considering their usual customers).

Before noon each day the King would appear, usually still in a sour mood, and we would share a quick meal before he took me along with him to complete his daily tasks. Most of his day to day responsibilities were things like managing disputes, discussing the use of Royal funds, monitoring progress on plans, and receiving reports from various ends of the kingdom. This was accomplished by meeting with various diplomats and members of court. I attended, but did not participate for the most part. They were kind enough to conduct most of the meetings in Common, but occasionally would slip back into goblinese. It turned out the kingdom was much larger than I had ever been led to believe; the portion of the goblin realm that rested under the same mountain as the castle was only its capital city. There were many other smaller cities and hamlets spread out far and wide beneath the mountain range.

By mid to late afternoon, everyone had been seen, and Grier would retire us to his study if he had paperwork to complete with Hibik. It was there that I began my lessons with a stout little old goblin named Sir Ludde. He spoke softly, and I often had to struggle to hear him. But he was very patient and seemed to have a solid grasp of the relationship between Common and goblinese. Our dinner would be brought to us there, and we would eat while we worked. Occasionally, Grier was needed elsewhere in the castle, and would leave me alone to my lessons. Usually he would return just as I finished and escort me back to my rooms for the evening.

I found I enjoyed our time alone. It was not often; the demands of the court kept the King quite busy (more so than usual, I was assured, due to the new Treaty happening to correspond with the harvest). Sometimes even when we found time to ourselves, we still had more work to do. I with my assignments from Ludde, which were difficult and required almost all of my concentration, and him with his paperwork. On these occasions, I would often look up to find him near me; spread out on the sofa next to me, sitting on the ground by the marble table at my feet. And, as if he could sense my eyes, he would look up and smile. And I would blush profusely and pretend to go back to whatever I had been working on. When we weren’t distracted by something else, he would sit close to me. And talk endlessly about this, that, or the other thing. The subject of our wedding came up more than once, and I tried hard not to squirm too much during the discussions. Although I didn’t share much during these moments, I was surprised to find myself growing accustomed to his presence... which of course, had been the intent.

The next time his responsibilities took him away from the study, I finished up with Ludde alone. I worked on the assignments he left me and penned a new letter to Morgana for Seoc to send out the next day, glancing at the door every few minutes. Those minutes ticked by into hours, and I began to grow restless with an ache forming in my neck.

I sighed, leaning back and blinking a few times. The words on the page had started to blur together; I just wasn’t understanding any of it anymore. I glanced at the door for the millionth time that hour, but same as all the previous, it remained closed. I shifted in the arm chair, glancing over to the dying fire. Wondering just how late it really was. Judging by my pounding head, I was guessing it was pretty late into the night by now.

Even if the hour hadn’t been so deep into the evening, between the clutter of Grier’s study and the strenuous labor of my latest assignment I was surprised I was still awake at all. I looked about quietly, considering the odds and ends and trinkets spread across the room. It wasn’t the first time the thought came to my mind asking if perhaps he had forgotten he had told me to wait here for him… It was seeming more likely with each passing hour.

Perhaps I should leave, and try to navigate back to my rooms. It wasn’t a super appealing thought considering my skill at getting lost. I sighed again, rubbing at my face with one hand. It was no use, I told myself. I wasn’t about to fall asleep on the couch here. I couldn’t stand the idea of being woken like a child to be led back to my chambers. Better that I at least make an attempt. Perhaps I could find a goblin to assist me. Seoc had already retired for the evening as both of us had been under the assumption the King would be returning to escort me back himself. I shifted and looked around one more time. But there would surely be others, despite the hour.

I shuffled my papers and left them in a neat pile on the marble table and blew out the candles I had been reading by. I had done what I could for the rest of the room; organizing and piling and stacking. My goblinese was still limited to the alphabet and a few simple words, so I didn’t dare sort papers too much. But at least there weren’t scarves strewn about haphazardly, nor inkwells and quills all over the place. I had returned books to shelves or otherwise neatly stacked them, had straightened trinkets and moved the candlesticks into a pattern. Tall silver, short gold, short silver, tall gold, and so on. More intentional. It looked better, if I was being honest, despite the explosion of colors and the amount of clutter that remained… I only hoped Grier would agree. I wrung my hands anxiously at the thought he would be irritated that I had changed his private study to meet my own standards… but then, argued an angry little voice, if he hadn’t wanted you to touch anything, he shouldn’t have forgotten you here. He only had himself to blame, I agreed with the voice.

I made my way over to the door, hesitantly tugging it open and peering out into the hallway beyond. Unfortunately, there was not a soul in sight. I would have to venture further to find assistance. I pulled the door closed behind me as quietly as possible. But which way? I glanced both directions, wracking my brain and trying to at least recall the general direction we took whenever we had left his study previously. Right, I supposed, though I wasn’t certain. I sighed tiredly, glancing around one last time before making my way down the hallway in that direction.

I wandered for far too long, until I had a hard time picking up my tired legs. Originally I followed the hall, listening for sounds and hoping to come upon a friendly goblin face. But the castle was quiet, almost eerily so. I grumbled to myself after the fifth empty passage. There should really be guards posted more frequently; I would bring it up later. I decided it was a mistake to leave the study, and turned to try and make my way back. And ended up in an entirely different part of the castle. Or at least, I was pretty sure I had. The statues and decorations were just as eclectic and scattered down these halls, but nothing looked familiar. Had I taken a wrong turn somewhere? I was pretty sure I had only retraced my footsteps… Maybe it was supposed to be a right at the fork behind me. I must have turned left initially.

I suddenly heard footsteps that weren’t mine, and eagerly tilted my head. Relief washing through me. Around the next corner I came upon their source; a narrow shouldered goblin who seemed to be carrying a crate of supplies. They seemed to be struggling actually, balancing two boxes on top of each other.

“Excuse me!” I called lightly, forcing myself to walk over calmly so as not to startle them.

They turned, and scarlet eyes widened in surprise. She (as I could see now that she turned around) quickly put the crates down and dipped her head respectfully. Her dark brown hair was cropped short on one side and braided on the other, and it fell neatly about long flat ears. She had a small nose with a wide base, and when she chanced a peek up at me, I saw dark green speckles on her round cheeks.

“Apologies, forgive me!” I told her. “I… I seem to be a bit lost. Can you direct me to my quarters? Or perhaps back to the King’s study?”

She straightened a little at my words, and her head tilted to the side. “Eto ochen, mo Onsa.” She replied, and her tone sounded apologetic. I felt my cheeks flush a little as she shook her head. “Non tuig shibalon…”

“Ah.. yes, I see.” I tried not to mumble, and carefully kept my disappointment out of my voice. I recognized ‘eto ochen’. ‘I’m sorry’. And I was certain she had said ‘shiba’, though perhaps I was pulling sounds where there were none. I dug through the rest of my limited reserves of goblinese. “Ah… Korol Grier, ah…” I gestured around, then swallowed hard and dropped my hand. “Eto ochen, cara…”

She giggled, then quickly clapped her hand over her mouth. Bowing low and stammering something quickly. I held up my hands, patting the air before me.

“It’s alright, my fault entirely,” I assured her, and she looked up at me shyly. I tried to soften my look, but wasn’t sure if I succeeded, “I wish I knew a little more… I don’t suppose you can help me?”

The woman tapped her fingers to her lips, a gesture I had come to recognize as the universal sign of a goblin thinking. I waited patiently, hands tucked neatly behind me.

“Tha thu nomerak so’un Korol?” She offered, patting her chest and pointing to me then around the hall. I got the impression she was signing a guiding motion.

I nodded. “Erm, yes… I think. Korol… Grier.” Maybe she knew where he was and could bring me straight to him? Either way, she had said something about the King. And that was better than wandering the halls lost.

She smiled widely, nodding and bounding eagerly on her toes. She glanced over at the crates, patting them and tilting her head to the side. She asked something, gesturing to the crates again, then down the hall.

“Ah, you are… bringing these somewhere? I don’t mind, of course.” I nodded to the crates. “Thank you.”

She glanced at me, then moved to pick up the crates again. I quickly stepped over to help as she staggered under their weight, and took the top one for her. Her eyes went a little wide, and she looked me up and down. Then she smiled, seeming genuinely grateful and wholly awed. I decided that it was a good thing goblins didn’t hide their emotions so well; even if I couldn’t speak with her, I could easily tell what she was thinking.

“Ni pasi, mo Onsa.”

I returned her nod, recognizing her thanks. “Ussta bez.” I replied, and her smile widened. It brought a twinkle to her scarlet eyes.

She jerked her head and led the way down the hall. I followed behind, and our pace was much quicker now that she wasn’t struggling to carry something nearly her own weight. Not far away we came to a short, narrow door, half tucked behind a thick curtain. She waved me to stop, speaking softly, and shouldered it open. It seemed to be a small storage closet, and she walked in, dropping her crate amid some others at the back. She came over and I bent low, passing her mine, which she promptly brought to place with the rest.

She ushered me out, smiling and bobbing excitedly. As the door clicked closed behind her, she nodded and jerked her head. Speaking quickly and happily. She pointed to me, spoke something where the only words I made out again was ‘King’, then led the way down the hall. I followed her, hoping she was actually leading me to Grier, or perhaps his study. I also hoped I had remembered the word for ‘King’ correctly… I wondered if there were any similar words. But she seemed confident, and I was simply grateful not to be wandering alone anymore. The cluttered hallways were a bit ominous by oneself.

“I didn’t get your name,” I told her, keeping my stride short to avoid stepping on her ankles, “Ah...nazain, cara?”

She grinned over her shoulder at me, and spat out a long goblinese sentence. I blinked at her. She chewed her lip, her eyes dancing. “Hausa, mo Onsa.” She amended.

“Hausa?” I echoed, and she nodded excitedly. “That’s a very pretty name… Ni pasi, Hausa… Nazai Nikostratus.”

“Feos, ta non ussta, ussta bez, mo Onsa.” She replied. She stopped, apparently having reached our intended destination, and pointed to a grand doorway beside us. I glanced at it, but it was completely foreign to me. She smiled and nodded. “Nomerak so’un Korol.”

Crap… This was not Grier’s study. Nor, certainly, was it my own rooms. I was positive I had never been to this place before. I looked around, but there was no one else about. No other guards, no servants. Certainly not Hibik or Seoc.

“... Korol Grier?” I asked her tentatively, pointing to the door.

She nodded, grinning. I resisted the urge to chew at the inside of my cheek. Debating what to do. But she seemed so happy, I couldn’t quite bring myself to try and communicate the fact that… I still had no idea where I was. I tried to keep the embarrassment out of my face.

“Ah, Ni pasi, Hausa.” I told her again, careful to keep my tone polite. Dipping my head to her.

She bounced again, her dark hair bobbing on one side. “Non ussta bez, Onsa… Nee-koh-straw-tus.” She sounded out my name carefully, then giggled, bowing so low the ends of her hair brushed the carpeted floor. She gave me a little friendly wave, then darted off.

I waited for her to disappear around the corner before I released a heavy sigh. Well… Hausa had insisted that this door had something to do with Grier… so I supposed it would be alright to attempt to check beyond. Maybe she had meant he was in a meeting here? I strained my ears, trying to see if I could hear anything beyond the intricately carved oak doors. I reached out one hand and touched the pattern, scoffing slightly at the inlaid gold and silver. This door certainly seemed like the door that might lead to Grier; it screamed of his overly flamboyant style. I almost laughed at that thought.

I built up my courage and balled my hand into a fist, knocking lightly. There was no answer, and after a few moments, I tried again. Still no answer. Curiously, I tried the handle, and found it gave readily under my touch, unlocked. The door popped open easily despite its size, and I jumped. Before I could catch it, it slowly swung out of my reach. Revealing the room beyond.

It was large, and lavishly decorated. At first I thought it might be a library, or perhaps a visiting sitting room. The walls were almost entirely shelves, filled with books and scrolls and tomes. They seemed to be spilling off the shelves, along scarves, necklaces, and other long string like things that had been stuffed in the crevices between books. A large couch took up the majority of one side of the room, facing a stone fireplace that filled one wall. The couch was short and deep set, and ridiculously plush. There was also a set of armchairs around a small card table, a long narrow table along the back of the couch, and little round pedestals and tables lining the arms. Of course, nothing matched anything else, and again I was grateful that my charmed eyes did not see the color as lavishly in the dark as in candle light. The floor had at least three different carpets piled on it, and everything everywhere was absolutely covered or filled to bursting with stuff. Globes, bowls, vases, chests, jewelry boxes, glass jars, models, maps, parchment, quills, inkwells, jewels, rings, what I was pretty sure was a crown, sextants, astrolabes, and a whole manner of other things I didn’t have a name for nor the time to properly sort from the rest of the clutter. It spilled over the tables and dripped to the floor into piles at their bases, not dirty or filthy but certainly not organized. There was even an armchair filled with discarded clothing, or at least that was what I assumed it was based upon the errant sleeve, pant leg, or collar I could make out amid the jumble.

Despite this, it was not the overwhelming amount of clutter in the room that had me suddenly frozen in place. It was the smell. As soon as the door swung open, it hit me in a wave and made my heart spin in my chest. The soft scent of parchment and candlewax. The lingering tint of woodsmoke. But overlaying everything else, stronger than I had ever smelled it before (save for perhaps one other source) was the scent of sage and Myrrh. And whatever the indiscernible natural scent of his body that I had come to associate with Grier.

“H-Hello?” I called timidly, then quickly cleared my throat and straightened. Walking a more affirmative step forward. “Hello?” I tried again, more formally. “Is anyone here?”

I half expected the King to burst from behind one of the other doors that lead away from the room. I took a few more steps in, looking around slowly. The door swung on its hinges, rolling towards its frame as soon as I had cleared its arch. It moved on its own, and before I could react, it clunked closed. I wondered if it was enchanted. Based upon the other charms and such I had seen so far in the castle, as well as having seen more of Grier’s forgetful nature over the last few days, it didn’t seem far-fetched. I turned, looking around the room again and giving another quiet call. It seemed this was his foyer, though it was larger than mine, the layout was much the same. Just like the door, I could see his personality abound in each collected bobble and scrap of clutter. The realization that Hausa had assumed when I was looking for the King this was what I meant had me blushing at the edges of my collar. I pulled at my tunic, clearing my throat and looking around carefully. Brushing the thought aside.

I felt strange, standing there, surrounded by not only his things, but the overbearing scent of him. It made my tired head dizzy, as well as other things I briskly ignored, and I shook it quickly. I couldn’t stay here, now that I was certain the rooms were empty. And besides, what if Grier did go back to the study to look for me? If I wasn’t there, would he go to check that I had made it back to my rooms? And when he found those empty as well? I broke into a cold sweat at the thought of alarm bells sounding and a full sweep of the palace and city being conducted for me. I was certain his personal chambers would be one of the last places they checked. And I would be mortified to have caused such a fuss in the first place.

I had made up my mind to leave, and if not wait in the hallway, then to try and find another goblin (perhaps one that spoke Common) when the clunk of the door’s latch dropping had me jumping out of my skin. I spun, eyes shooting wide, flush filling my face.

Relief flooded over top my surprise as I recognized the goblin who stumbled in noisily, and I almost breathed his name out loud. Grier. I started to take a step forward, then stopped. The King hadn’t noticed me, and was staggering about. He knocked over the small side table by the door in his effort to walk over to the assorted pile of clothes on the armchair, and I didn’t need to speak goblinese to know he was heavily cursing in response. My eyebrows shot up as he quickly undid the buttons on his tunic, then loosened the ties and pulled it up over his head. Chucking it to the side.

I took a step back in shock at the sudden sight of his bare torso. His soft, grey-green skin was pulled taut with a healthy vigor over his muscular shoulders and back. I watched it ripple as he moved, digging around the pile of discarded clothes, and my mouth suddenly went quite dry and my pulse ricocheted. My retreat had me bumping into the card table, and I scrambled clumsily to try and catch the candlestick before it toppled over, without success. It crashed to the floor, and Grier spun at the sound.

I thought his eyes might just pop out of his sockets, and he nearly lost his balance entirely at the sight of me. I was certain there would be steam rising from my face, my blood was rushing through it so fast. I straightened so fast my spine protested, squaring my shoulders and trying to look more intentional and confident. And less guilty.

“H-how...H-how??” He finally managed after his mouth flapped uselessly a few times. The goblin tried to cross over to me, but his feet got tangled amid themselves and he barely caught himself on the couch.

I moved without thinking when I saw him stumble. With two quick strides, I was at his side, reaching out as if to catch him. I stopped short, straightening again and rubbing the back of my neck. I realized I was staring a moment later and quickly cleared my throat. Darting my eyes first to the left. Then to the right. Then circumventive around the room. Anywhere but on the shirtless goblin staring up at me with eyes falling out of his head.

“I-I apologize, Your Majesty, I didn’t-”

“Alright, I must have hit my head somewhere.” He mumbled, then slowly straightened himself, swaying slightly. “I lost my balance and passed out. And now I’m dreaming.”

I watched his eyes appraise me unabashed from head to toe. “A-ah, I… I didn’t mean t-to-”

“Or I’m hallucinating.” He amended at my stuttering response. “I felt guilty not going back to get you sooner, and now my conscience has conjured you up in the flesh.”

I didn’t think I could run any hotter. The heat of my cheeks would put a dragon to shame and my ears burned painfully. “N-no, Your Majesty, I’m-”

His hand came out, reaching for mine as if to ascertain the truth of the matter. I jerked away, startled by his movement and nearly squeaked as Grier suddenly toppled forward from over extending himself. I barely had time to react, jumping back towards him as suddenly as I had pulled away and putting my arms out to catch him before he hit the floor. He fell into my chest, and I just barely kept us both upright in my surprise.

We froze like that, and scarlet eyes met mine as Grier slowly craned his neck to look up at me. His fall had him leaning heavily against me, one hand on each arm, his upper torso against my abdomen, his legs haphazardly skewed beneath him. My heart raced a mile a minute in my breast, and I held my breath captive in my throat. Trying not to think too much about the warmth of the skin on the small of his back beneath my palm.

“So…” He breathed. “You really are here…” I watched him blink slowly a few times, confounded. He glanced around, as if not entirely certain where he was, then turned his attention back to me. “What… how did you get here?”

I swallowed hard. “I-I… I was trying to find my way back to my rooms-”

“These are my rooms.” He interrupted, tilting his head to the side. Then he looked around again. “Aren’t they?”

“Y-yes! But, you see, I got lost…” I stammered, then suddenly realized I was still holding him against me. I carefully tried to right him, seeking to put space between us once more to allow my thoughts to have a remote chance of functioning more normally.

“In my rooms?”

“Yes! I-I mean, I mean n-no, I was… I, there was a… a servant. She didn’t speak Common-” He swayed again, but steadied himself with a hand on the back of the couch. I stared at the ground at our feet, trying to completely disregard the wave of intense heat washing through not only my face but the rest of my body as well. “She- ah… there was some… miscommunication I think-”

He laughed, then hiccuped, and I lifted my gaze to look at him in surprise. “Ah well, serendipit-dious then… I was on my way back to you, but I spilled something on my shirt, you see-” He moved to gesture to his torso, then seemed to realize he was in fact shirtless. He blinked stupidly, then looked around. “Ah… I… I meant to change-”

“A-are you alright?” I asked dubiously, somehow managing to get my tongue to work properly in my mouth. I had been so caught up in my own embarrassment I hadn’t realized how much his words were slurred. Not to mention his strange lack of balance.

“Mm?” He was rubbing at the back of his neck, which made his chest muscles flex in a way that had a shiver running down my spine. “Mmm. Oh, ah. Yes, that. This, rather.” He shuffled his feet, then barely caught himself again. “I was… I am afraid I partook in a fair share of liquor with our dear General Damjan…” He laughed lightly again. “The man can drink like a horse, I tell you!”

I stiffened, suddenly praying that perhaps this whole misadventure might be forgotten tomorrow. If only I could make my escape now. “I-I apologize, I would have-”

“Non, halshen Osna mo!” He cried, then stopped, blinking a few times. I stared at him, wide eyed. He gave me a sheepish grin. “Ah… The fault is mine, Nisostraw… Nickosta… My young Prince.” He started to spin quickly on his heel, extending one hand out. “But come! I shall rectify it and escort you to your rooms-”

I had to leap forward to catch him again, hooking my arm under his. I gritted my teeth even as my cheeks throbbed from the blood rushing beneath them. “You are certainly in no state to be going anywhere, Your Majesty.”

He scoffed at me, letting me settle him back on his feet. “Stop calling me that, you handsome fool,” He demanded, trying to push my hands away and nearly losing his balance again in the process, “I am perfectly capable of escorting you to your rooms.”

He began to stride towards the door, purposefully and carefully placing each step before him. “Ah.. Your Majesty-”

“I’m not answering to that!” He called over his shoulder, halfway to the door now.

“Y-your Majesty…” He continued to ignore me. “Grier!” I cried exasperatedly.

Finally he stopped, turning and swaying slightly. A cocky grin on his lips. “Yes, my young Prince?”

I pursed my lips, straightening slowly and fixing my composure as I tucked my hands behind my back. “... You’re still not wearing a shirt.”

“Eh?” He looked down, and his complexion became a little darker. The goblin cleared his throat, reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck. “... Perhaps you have a point.”

“... It’s alright, I-I’ll figure out the way back.” I reassured him.

He nodded, looking a little disappointed. I moved to walk towards the door, trying to decide exactly what I could do, and not fancying a night wandering the halls. Grier turned to address me as I drew closer, and started to topple to the side once more. I just managed to catch him again, my arm scooping out. Our eyes met, and his mischievous grin returned.

“I seem to keep falling for you, my young Prince.” He murmured teasingly.

My breath caught in my throat and my face burned, but I shook my head to hide it. “...I can’t believe you just said that.”

He laughed, his hand lingering on my arm as I got his feet beneath him once again. “I couldn’t resist, it was too perfect.”

I sighed, glancing at the door, then back to him. “I suppose I-I should get you... settled first. Elsewise you might end up spending the night on the floor.”

His grin turned to a small scowl. “I most certainly would not! I am quite capable of taking care of myself!”

I raised one brow at him. “Say my name, then.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Nikostrawn… Nack-we.. Neekohstran…”

I took up his elbow, steering him towards the rear chambers. “Nope. Let’s go.”

I ignored his continued protests as well as his still very distracting bare top half as I led him through the sitting room, then towards the door which corresponded to my own bedroom in my quarters. I opened it experimentally, and was pleased to find it was in fact the sleeping chambers. A large bed overflowing with numerous thick, colorful blankets sat in the middle of the back wall. It had a tall canopy overhead, and long draping curtains sloppily tied to the posts. The rest of the room was equally disheveled and I resisted the urge to sigh as we picked our way across the scattered items spilling from pedestals, tables, and shelves onto the floor.

I let him fall face first onto the bed when we reached it, and heard a muffled groan as he did. I placed my hands on my hips, looking around before noticing a pitcher set nearby with a copper chalice beside it. I picked my way over and raised it to my nose. Sloshing it about and sniffing at it experimentally. I poured a bit into the chalice, turning and making my way back over to him. Confident that while I had no idea how long it had been sitting out, this was at least water of some form or another that had at one point been intended for drinking.

I dodged as a boot whizzed past me, and turned with a small scowl forming on my lips. Grier smirked, shrugging, and seeming pleased to have managed to sit right-side up amid the voluminous sheets and wiggling his now bare toes. He took the offered glass, drinking deeply and peering up at me through pale lashes.

“... If you’re settled now?” I pressed, refilling his cup then setting the pitcher on his nightstand. I briskly turned to make my escape.

“Wait!” He caught my arm, kneeling on the mattress precariously to be nearly at my eye level. I stared at his hand, then studied his face. “My head is still spinning… keep me company a while longer?”

His hand was surprisingly strong despite the amount of alcohol I amassed was swirling through his veins, and he tugged on me insistently. I sighed, shaking my head but too tired to resist and allowed him to pull me a little closer. My flush returned, and my heart thundered in my ears as he settled onto his bottom again and patted the edge of the bed beside him. I considered him one last time, then slowly lowered myself to sit in the indicated space. He pulled one knee up, leaning over it and sipping at his water again.

“You are very kind, my young Prince,” He said, smiling at me coyly, “Especially since I left you waiting… it wasn’t my intent.”

I nodded, looking down at my hands on my lap. “What kept you?”

Grier sighed deeply. “Well, first it was a meeting with Lord Notah, who always wants me to try his latest imports. Then I ran into Damjan, who insisted on playing a card game with me and plying me with copious amounts of alcohol.” He chuckled sheepishly. “I lost track of time.”

I frowned slightly, thinking it over. “Understandable, I’m sure. If I had a better head for the castle, it wouldn’t have been an issue… I wouldn’t need to be led about like a child.” I tried not to sound too bitter about it, but wasn’t sure if I succeeded.

He shook his head. “I think it worked out for the better though, no?” He cleared his throat, thumbing his chalice. “Certainly makes for a story.”

Noticing it was nearly empty, I reached for the pitcher, refilling his cup. I belatedly realized as I returned it that the motion had me reaching across his lap, bringing our bodies perilously close together. I blushed, leaning back and rubbing the back of my neck. Grier took a slow sip of the newly refilled water, eyeing me with a look I couldn’t quite place but that had my stomach flipping.

“... Perhaps we can use this time to speak some more?”

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. “How do you mean?” I asked dryly, stiffening my jaw warily.

He shifted, chuckling into his cup. “I always have questions about you… how are you finding goblins?” He peered up at me. “Are we very strange to you?”

I thought about that for a moment, rubbing the palm of my hand. “In some ways...”

“What ways are those?” He pressed.

“Ah…” I swallowed hard, hesitant. “... You are very… friendly.”

He laughed. “Friendly? Are humans so cold?”

I shook my head. “Not ‘cold’ per say just… more reserved. More.. subdued.”

“I see. We certainly don’t abide by reserved-ness.” He mused, nodding.

“I-I apologize-”

He waved away my words. “I completely agree. And I find humans equally strange.”

I glanced at him curiously despite myself. “We are?”

He nodded. “Yes! You are an absolute enigma, everything you do is a mystery to me.” He cocked his head to the side. “You also always stand like there is a lance strapped to your spine. Is it so wrong to see that you are actually feeling something?”

I almost laughed, but settled for an embarrassingly casual shrug of my shoulders. “It… I’m not sure…” I looked off to the side. “It was always… frowned upon. Showing emotion… Especially as a Prince…” I stopped, hesitating.

“Why? What’s wrong with having emotions?” I opened my mouth, then closed it. “Just your thoughts.” He reminded me. “No filter. Just speak. Even if you don’t think it makes sense.”

I chewed that over for a minute, frowning slightly. “It’s… it’s seen as a weakness… A lack of control…” I paused again, struggling to understand my life through the eyes of an outsider. I glanced at him, then back down at my hands. “It’s just how it’s always been. You don’t question it…” I rubbed at my palm again. “H-how do goblins see it?”

“Emotions are a part of life,” He replied, leaning over his knee and taking a long sip of his water. “Trying to fight one's emotions would be like trying to control the sea. Sure, during fair weather you might appear be able to, but come the first storm?” He sighed. “Why would humans try to deny such a large part of themselves?”

“It’s... it’s just how it’s always been... We’re not so good at accepting changes…” I mumbled honestly, “Especially things deemed unusual or … different...”

There was silence for a long moment. My neck itched to look up at him, but I couldn’t quite manage. I sighed deeply after a while, straightening and shaking my head.

“It is late. I should be going-”

I stopped short as his hand caught my arm again. “You can hardly be expected to find your rooms on your own. And it’s clear I can’t bring you...” He pointed out, and I stared down at the way his green skin seemed all the more vibrant against my pale sleeve. “Why not just… stay? Besides, I feel like I never get to see you anymore.” He quickly changed the subject as I started to stiffen at his suggestion.

“See me?” I echoed, surprised. “We’ve hardly been apart.”

“Well, yes, but… not alone like this.” He fumbled with his drink, then gave me a lopsided smile. “I had hoped to charm another kiss out of you tonight.”

I swallowed hard, and my eyes dropped back to my lap. “O-Oh….”

My common sense told me to leave. To say good evening and make my way out. What did it matter how late it was, or how unlikely it was that I would ever find my rooms on my own? I couldn’t help the old voice at the back of my mind screaming about how improper it was to be sitting alone with him in his bed… Another part of me… a quieter part, becoming louder by the minute… wanted to see what would happen if I did stay. Perhaps if I hadn’t already been so tired, my will to resist that second voice would have been stronger. Perhaps if I hadn’t felt myself in a heavy fog made of exhaustion and embarrassment, my lifetime of proper etiquette might have won out… As it was...

“... Perhaps I might tell you how handsome you are again,” Grier continued tentatively, when I made no further move to leave, “... And how I can’t stop thinking about the way you kissed me outside your rooms…” I blushed profusely and shifted restlessly. “.... Or maybe I could… perhaps recite you some goblinese poetry? If that’s something you’d like.” He offered, and I felt him roll his thumb up and down my arm. “... And talk about how I dream of the day I won’t have to ask... I will just know exactly what I need to do or say to make you smile.”

I looked at his hand again. As my eyes fell on it, he gently squeezed my arm, then ran it down the length to my own hand. I didn’t even think; my wrist rotated, and he slid his palm over mine. I swallowed hard, trying to force my heart out of my throat and back into my chest where it belonged.

“... Is it working yet?”

“A-ah...I… I-I should…” I stammered uselessly.

I could hear his grin lacing his next words. “Well, I’ve gotten you flustered… That’s a start.” He traced his thin fingers up and down the lines of my palm. “... Can I ask you something?” I nodded numbly. “... Are you scared of me?”

I started slightly, my eyes jumping to his face in confusion. I met his ruby reds, watching me hesitantly. But his question seemed sincere, not teasing. I thought about it for a moment, then looked back at our hands.

“... No. Not… Well… Not of you...” I stopped, swallowing hard again. “I suppose… I am a little afraid of… umm…” He slowly continued to stroke up and down my palm soothingly. “I-I… I am… I am scared of… of… “ I sucked in a tight breath, and found that my hands shook. Grier’s fingers quickly wrapped themselves between mine, squeezing gently. “... Of getting hurt again…”

“... Again?” He breathed. But I pursed my lips, shaking my head. I couldn’t… I couldn’t talk about it. I couldn’t even think about it. He brought our hands to his chest, pressing the back of mine against his heart. “... I won’t hurt you… I can’t hurt you…” I managed to bring my eyes back to his. “Gods above, I-I can’t even begin to express…” His other hand came up, trailing along the collar of my tunic, skimming along the soft underside of my neck. “You are… so wonderfully... wonderful…” He laughed. “I think I got the better end of our bargain.” I shook my head, trying to look away, but he caught my cheek against his palm. “... Stay with me?”

My breath hitched. “... You’re drunk…”

He shrugged. “And if you try to leave now who knows where you’ll end up…. So just stay… stay here safe with me.”

I glanced over. “Perhaps the couch-”

“Here with me.” He said firmly, then quickly added; “Just to sleep.” After his promise his mischievous grin returned. “I’m far too besotted to try anything untoward… your virtue is safe, my young Prince.”

I choked on a laugh in my throat and shook my head. “I-it’s not exactly appropriate-”

He scoffed, squeezing my hand gently, still clasped to his bare chest. “I am King! I decide what’s ‘appropriate’.” His grin grew. “Besides, it’s not like we’d be crowded.”

I glanced over our shoulders at it, my heart thrumming in my ears, my breath quivering in my throat. “... I’m not sure why you have such a large bed… when you are so small.” I replied dryly.

Grier laughed loudly, rolling to his knees. The motion brought him precariously close, and my eyes widened as he kneeled on the bed next to me. I even had to tilt my head back slightly to look up at him. He skimmed the fingertips of his free hand along the edge of my jaw, the other still trapped against his breast, and I saw his scarlet eyes grow dangerously hot. I felt my blood rush, and tried to reconcile with the face that my tongue was suddenly far too large for my mouth.

“I can assure you... I am anything but small.”

I nearly knocked him off the bed as I jumped out of it, yanking my hand back from him and stumbling over my own feet as I scrambled to get them beneath me. I spun, facing him as if he might lunge after me, my hands raised defensively. I scrambled back a few steps and nearly fell over one of his boots. The goblin himself barely managed to catch himself at the edge of the bed, and stared at me in surprise as my face lit on fire and my eyes nearly popped out of my skull.

“Y-you...I-I-I don’t, We-ah, y-you, I-I mean uh, I mean-th-that’s not-” I tried unsuccessfully half a dozen times to form a sentence, and found my lips wholly inept for the task. Not to mention my mouth felt drier than a desert, and there was a frustrating large lump in my throat in the shape of my heart. My stomach flipped and twisted and a cold sweat broke out at the back of my neck.

Grier swung his legs out, staggering from the bed himself. Hands up, apologetic crooked smile in place. “I am sorry, I didn’t mean to ah… startle you so…” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “I’m afraid I got a bit carried away with the banter.”

I clamped my mouth shut, cringing and clasping my hands behind my back. Berating myself for my lost composure over a few simple words, but my head spun. I shook it, trying to level myself, yet felt my mind absolutely rioting with the notion. I felt my lips move, felt my tongue form shapes. But as my jaw refused to open, the sounds were chopped off at the source and I merely stood with my eyes darting wildly about. Looking for anything else to focus on other than the goblin standing in front of me.

“Well, while we are on the subject...” He began, putting his hands on his hips and looking me up and down. “What is it with humans and sex?” I nearly squeaked at the word. “Why are you so skittish about even hinting at it?”

I stammered and sputtered, then clamped my mouth shut again. It was no use. My lips and tongue just could not seem to coordinate with each other. I shook my head vehemently, opening my mouth then promptly closing it. Grier looked more amused than annoyed, and his fingers drummed on his hips. It seemed he wasn’t meaning to tease though, and was genuinely asking. I tried to take comfort in that, but found it not particularly possible.

“... Is it because you consider it… unclean perhaps?” He offered, and I swallowed hard. “Or do humans not find the same pleasure in it?” He frowned thoughtfully at that. “I would hope that is not the case.”

I shook my head, felt my mouth drop back open. A few sounds came out, and I cleared my throat. “I-it… it’s just… umm” I shifted and dropped my gaze to the floor. “I-it’s just… n-not… not talked about.”

“But why?” He pressed, taking a few steps closer.

I swallowed hard again, then cleared my throat. Stiffening as he swayed another pace. “We… I … Umm…” I shuffled again, eyes darting about, “It’s … I suppose we… ah… it’s… shameful… I guess…”

“Shameful?” He echoed, sounding confused. “Why?”

“Ah… um… Well, because… ah…” I was almost shaking, but somehow managed to remain on my feet. “It’s… vulgar and… personal… and… because it…. Umm… Feels good…” I dropped into barely above a whisper at the end.

One slender brow raised. “You don’t talk about sex… because it’s shameful to do so… and it’s shameful… because it feels good?” His smile returned. “That makes no sense! What’s wrong with feeling good?”

It was a valid point, and I tried to focus on the philosophy of his question rather than the subject. Even as my mind provided copious amounts of related but very distracting thoughts on the matter. My eyes still darted about, and seeing this he had stopped his approach with a safe few strides still between us. Letting me calm myself once more.

“I-I’m… I’m not sure… Maybe… Maybe because… ah…” I dropped off and reached a shaking hand to rub at the back of my neck. “Well… we make ourselves feel guilty for… for enjoying ourselves… For indulging in… ”

He gave a deep ‘hmmm’ as I dropped off, rubbing at his face. His head tilted to the side, his hair falling wildly about him. “I suppose it would go along with how you never seem willing to be even remotely self-indulgent, and constantly feel the need to apologize for yourself.” I must have flinched because he quickly raised his hands. “It’s ok! I don’t mind… I just hope you realize you don’t have anything to apologize for… Especially if it makes you happy...”

I gave a small nod, settling my eyes off to the side again. We stood quietly for a moment, the tension trailing heavy fingers between us. I didn’t dare check to see if he was staring at me, in case our eyes accidentally met. My face was still flushed hot, and my collar itched from sweat.

“It’s late. I can barely stand anymore…” He said finally, his voice gentle, “If you want to sleep on the couch… I don’t mind… I want you to be comfortable... But…” He hesitated, “I would be happier if you felt safe enough to join me in my bed.” When I glanced at him out the corner of my eye, he gave me a small, wry grin. “I promise I’ll behave myself.”

I sighed, rubbing at the back of my neck again, still twitchy. It was late, and I was teetering on the edge of collapse myself. Not to mention the spasms in my chest from our conversation.

“... I’m not sure you’re capable of behaving yourself…” I muttered, perhaps a little grumpier than I intended, shuffling yet again.

His laugh was warming, and I felt a little tension ease with the sound of it. I peeked at him again, and his sharp toothed grin had my heart rate spiking. “Well, if you’d rather, perhaps I should sleep on the couch,” His lips twitched, “... Since I’m smaller.”

A soft, nervous laugh petered from my own lips, shaking and brief. But it made his grin grow even wider. I stiffened, glancing around again. Trying to sort through my own thoughts.

“...That wouldn’t be fair to kick you out of your own bed…” I mumbled.

“So does this mean I’ve convinced you?” He asked, playing for innocence. I lifted my eyes, watching him take a few ungraceful steps back and sit on the edge of the bed again.

“... I should probably just go back to my own rooms…” I replied, though my resolve sounded weak even to my own ears.

His chin bobbed lightly. “Should. Maybe. .. But will you?”

I hesitated again, and he slid back further into the bed, gesturing gently with one hand. I studied it, shifting from foot to foot. He waited patiently. I looked over his shoulder at the bed, and suddenly felt so very heavy and tired. My back ached, and my legs quivered beneath my weight. I blinked, remembering how good it felt to sleep.

My feet moved of their own accord, slowly, haltingly. Carrying me over to the side of the bed. Grier watched quietly as I slipped off my boots and slowly sat on the edge of the mattress. The hair on the back of my neck tingled, feeling his eyes. My fingers felt numb as I clumsily undid the buttons of my vest, then let it slide off.

When I turned, he was sliding back to the head of the far side of the bed. Pushing aside the blankets and shuffling down into them. I swallowed my nerves, scooching back myself and slowly pulling my legs up. I hesitated, my hand pulling at the starch collar of my tunic. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen me without my shirt before, a small part of me reasoned. And while my trousers were comfortable enough to sleep in, I would be hard pressed to find a comfortable position with the tunic... My hands came up while my boldness lingered, reaching over my shoulders and tugging the fabric over my head. Goosebumps trailed over my skin as I gently folded the tunic and placed it on the bedside stand. I quietly lay down with my back to him, stiff as a board.

I felt the mattress shift, and turned my head slightly to see him sliding closer out of the corner of my eye just before his hands slowly rolled over the bare skin of my shoulders. I froze, my breath faltering as his warm palms traced lightly down my back, then up. Gently, his hands came up, cupping into the curve of my shoulder and giving a light tug. I obediently rolled to my back, letting out a shuddering sigh as my shoulders hit the soft blankets. Grier’s head was on the pillow next to mine, and I watched him quietly. His hand came to my chin, skimming his fingertips with a feather soft touch along my jaw. Lightly turning it to face him properly as he trailed them over its length, then following the curve of my neck. His fingers rose and fell with the lump in my throat as I swallowed nervously.

I watched his face, even as his scarlet eyes seemed to be tracing over the rest of mine. I watched his attention move down the length of my neck, his fingers mirroring his gaze, then across my collarbone. Coming to a rest on my sternum. His eyes flicked up to meet mine then, and I searched them hesitantly. They were filled with warmth, and a tenderness that made my heart skip. I wondered if he could feel the missed beat beneath his fingertips. He shifted a little closer, and sighed deeply. I could see him slowly relaxing, and somehow… the sight had me relaxing too.

Grier traced his index finger up and down first my sternum, then my collarbone. It was entrancing, and I felt myself relax incrementally more with his soothing touch. His lids drooped lazily, but his eyes remained stubbornly open. Moving from my face to watch my chest rise and fall with whisperingly shy little breaths. I was stuck watching those scarlet eyes, the way he blinked languidly every few minutes, each one a little heavier than the last. I memorized the way his wild strands of wheat hued locks fell haphazardly across his forehead and heavy brow, with a few long strands trickling past his ear and down his neck. I considered the shape of the edge of his jaw, and the relaxed curl of his lips.

I didn’t realize I was staring with my mouth slightly parted until his hand came back up, cupping my chin. I closed my lips, but couldn’t keep my gaze from flicking to his. I turned, rolling onto my side to better face him. He closed the gap left by my movement, leaving only a ghost of space between us. Whenever he breathed his skin brushed against mine, and I shivered at the sensation. His hand trailed back down, over my shoulder, and I moved my arm beneath his touch. Flexing the muscles so that as his hand skimmed its length to mine, I could turn it and feel the pads of his fingers whisper against my own. He glanced down at our hands, then rebounded and traced his way back up my arm to my shoulder. My own hand lingered where he had left it between us, then slowly reached out. Flattening against his own shoulder.

He was so warm… And his skin was firm, with a texture as if almost beveled, but barely discernible. I brushed my palm over the crook of his neck, lingering for a moment with my thumb on the apple of his throat. His eyes closed fully as I continued up, cupping the sharp edge of his jaw against my palm. I stared for a moment, the way his grey-green skin seemed more vibrant against mine, the way my own color seemed warmer… I slid closer, leaning over and running my hand back to bury my fingers in the thick mess of hair at the base of his skull.

He parted his lips slightly as I pressed mine to them, and I relished the faint hint of liquor lingering there. I felt his breath flutter against me, and felt my own eyes droop shut. His hand lingered on my chest, his thumb tracing thoughtfully small circles. I felt his mouth open against mine, and responded in turn, reaching out tentatively with my tongue to dance around the tip of his. I could almost hear the click in his jaw as he opened it more, straining closer, and deeper. I welcomed his tongue, feeling it trace around the inside of my mouth. It was longer than mine, which could barely reach the edge of his front teeth. I lightly flicked it at the points of his incisors, curious, but felt heat growing in my core as his tongue skimmed my molars and the side of my cheeks.

Grier pulled away a little then, his tongue slipping back. I was surprised to find myself following him, unwilling to part yet. Wanting to keep the taste of him longer. His sharp teeth pricked my bottom lip as he bit it gently to still my pursuit and a breathy gasp escaped me before I could catch it. He sprung forward at the sound, like a predator unable to resist the fleeing prey, locking our mouths back together. His hand slid up my chest, scooping the back of my neck and pressing me fervently against him. Suddenly tasting less of liquor and more of hunger, hot and burning in my mouth. And I drank deep of his craving, feeding my own as I slid closer, pressing our bodies together. His arm pinned against the bed came up to catch my neck and hold me against him, freeing his other to roam down to my waist. I could feel the muscles of his arm flex against me as his fingers gripped at my side, then grabbed at the small of my back. His own smaller body writhing against mine.

All too suddenly, he pulled us apart again, shaking himself. I found myself winded and breathy, my eyes reluctantly opening and releasing me from whatever spell I had fallen under.

“I promised I would behave myself.” He breathed, and I nearly leaned in to catch those words directly from his lips with my own.

A shiver ran down my spine as his scarlet eyes flicked up to meet mine. “.... I don’t think you’re doing a good job proving that...”

He laughed lightly, pressing his hand firmly into the small of my back. I barely managed to keep my breath from shuddering with that, and was glad when he rolled it back to the relative safety of my shoulder.

“You can hardly plead innocence.” He murmured, his thumb coming across my lips. “I swear… your lips are like a drug…”

I would have turned away to hide from the implication of his words, but held still beneath his touch for a moment. Letting him trace back and forth over the features of my face. I let my hand trail from the thicket of his hair to his ear, thumbing the gems piercing the cartilage there.

“... Since I’m misbehaving already…” He mused, then straightened, propping himself on one elbow to look down at me. I eyed him warily. “...I’m dying to know. Then I swear I’ll leave you alone for the night.... Have you ever…?”

He let the question hang, and I felt the blood quickly rush to my face as I realized his intent. I shifted, letting my hand slide down to rest on his collarbone. Swallowing hard.

“.... Once.” I mumbled uncomfortably.

He squeezed my shoulder reassuringly. “...With another man?” I nodded, not meeting his gaze. “... I thought humans…?”

I shook my head. “No… not… not openly.” A shaky sigh evaded my defenses, and I felt him lean a little closer, rubbing his thumb against me gently. “It was… I had thought…”

I dropped off, my voice broken, and he didn’t pry. I felt his lips against my temple, and my eyelids drooped. Feeling strangely comforted by the touch, especially as his hand came up to caress my cheek. I turned into his palm, and breathed in the scent of him. Not that I had lost it once since I had come to his chambers… the place was heavy with his presence. I let myself be completely enveloped in it, closing my eyes again.

“... I’ve had many lovers,” He confessed softly against my ear, “Men and women.”

I nodded slowly. “I know.”

Grier pulled away and I felt him settle back onto the pillow beside me. “... Does it bother you?”

“No.” I didn’t even have to pause to think about that, opening my eyes to meet his.

He studied me for a moment, and saw his lips twitch. “I’m… a little surprised. I thought you might be … off put. Being that I have lain with both...”

“... Would you want to take a... a lover?”

I felt his hand at my cheek tighten, and he vehemently shook his head. “No. Not anymore…” His touch gentled, and his eyes grew softer. “Just you…”

“Then it doesn’t bother me.”

He smiled, running his hand down to trace his thumb along my lips. I watched his scarlet eyes study them for a moment. “... Would you?”

I shook my head, feeling his hand move with it. “... Just you.”

He nodded, his smile growing. “That… makes me very happy…” He shifted, glancing away. “I’ve never… well… I’ve always been a sucker for a pretty face… And I’m not the type to just…” He glanced back at me sheepishly, “Suffice it to say, I had those who were willing stay and keep me company for some time. And I enjoyed each relationship… But…” He shifted again, hiding beneath his wild hair. “They’ve never… I have never…” The goblin hesitated, and I waited patiently, curious despite myself. “... This feels different.” He stared at my chest, running his fingertips slowly over the edges of my muscles. “This feels… better.”

I tucked my fingers back into the deep locks of his hair. My head swirled and felt thick with exhaustion. But I nodded back sleepily. “...It does.”

Grier shifted closer, tucking his face against my neck. I would have stiffened in surprise, but could already feel sleep tugging insistently at my senses. And gods, he was just so wonderfully warm…

…..

The knocking roused me. I would have sat bolt upright, but was weighed down by the goblin who had apparently entangled himself with me. His arms wrapped as far around me as they could reach, his legs folded and half tucked between mine. Curled to bury his head deep into my torso. I stared at him in shock, trying to get my bearings, then jumped as the knocking sounded again.

“Your- ah…. G-Grier,” I hissed softly, not quite sure what to do with my hands now that I was awake and letting them extend awkwardly out in front of me. The knock came again, and I craned my neck as if I would be able to see who was at the door. “Grier!” I said, more insistently.

A grumble answered me, and to my horror the King merely burrowed deeper against my bare chest. I almost sighed exasperatedly, but jumped in a near panic as the knock came again. Sounding much more urgent this time. My face burned at the thought of being discovered like this; entangled in the bedsheets with … well, he was my betrothed. By human standards, it would be outright scandalous. But… I wasn’t sure if the goblins would care… or if I did anymore, for that matter...

At the fifth knock, louder than the previous, I could stand it no more. I untangled myself from Grier, pushing his hands away as he tried to wrap himself back around me. Like prickle vines, where you free yourself from one and find another attached. As soon as I managed to mostly free myself though, he gave another grumbling sound and rolled back over. Embedding his face into the pillows. I shook my head, scrambling to my feet and over to the foyer. Nearly tripping over his clutter as I did. I scowled at it, glancing back over my shoulder. But the King seemed unperturbed by the final knock, nor by my escape from his clutches. Blissfully unaware and happily burrowed into his bed.

I hesitated momentarily with my hand on the door. Debated simply hiding somewhere and hoping whomever was on the other side knew the King well enough to either give up or just enter. And then hopefully I would remain unnoticed and be able to sneak back to my chambers… I sighed, shaking my head. Yanking the door open before I could lose my nerve.

If Hibik was surprised that I was the one who answered the door, he did a good job of hiding it. He gave me a quick polite bow, and I carefully kept my torso screened by the door.

“Your Highness, there are visitors waiting on the main floor.”

I blinked, a bit confused. “For Gri-Ah, I mean, the King?”

He shook his head, glancing nervously about. “For both of you… They are emissaries of the human court.”

I stiffened, my mind suddenly racing. Emissaries? Here? I had received no word… It was highly unorthodox for us to send people unannounced. Unless.. unless there was some sort of emergency, where there was no time to send word ahead...

“Did they say why?”

He shook his head. “No, Your Highness. They would speak only with you and the King.”

Dread filled my chest, and I nodded to him in a daze. My head spun like a top and numbness was tingling at the ends of my extremities. I glanced over my shoulder. Debating if I had time to go back to my chambers. It pained me that the first thought was not to run to speak with them, but to compose myself. Lest my people think less of me. I was forced to make myself presentable before I could deal with whatever urgent business they had. I gritted my teeth at the ridiculousness of it, my stomach somersaulting as the possibilities raced through my head.

“Send Seoc with some fresh clothes for me, if you please, then see to our guests,” I told him, my voice tight, “I’ll… try to wake the King.”

Hibik gave me a sympathetic look. “Yes, Your Highness. Of course.” He bowed his head, then darted off.

I closed the door behind him, a cloud settling around my head and nerves wrapping tighter around my stomach. After a delayed moment, I turned and picked my way back to the bedroom.

“...Your Majesty?” I called, lingering in the doorway. Suddenly almost afraid to pass the threshold. But he didn’t answer. “... Grier.” I tried, a little louder.

A grunt this time. I waited, thinking there would be more. When nothing followed, I gritted my teeth, and forced myself across the room. Still in a haze. I stopped at the edge of the bed, looking down at his bare back, half buried in the blankets.

“Y-....G-Grier.” I said again. When he didn’t answer, I even went so far as to reach out and touch his shoulder lightly. “Grier… There are emissaries here to see us.”

He shifted, and I stepped back, thinking he was about to sit up. But he just rolled a little, then heaved a sigh and settled into the mattress again. I pushed his shoulder more forcefully, starting to get a little frustrated. And more than a little apprehensive. My thoughts still racing, my heart thundering in my ears. He grunted, and even swatted my hand away.

“Gr-”

“I don’t care. Tell them to come back later.” His grumpy voice was thick with sleep and muffled beneath the pillows.

My hands were shaking now, and I shoved him again. “Grier!” I demanded, and cut myself short when I choked over the end of his name.

Red eyes emerged sharply from somewhere amid the blankets at the break in my voice, eyebrows arched above. I must have forgotten to clear the emotion threatening to swallow me from my face, because whatever he saw there had him quickly sitting up. My mouth opened to speak, but even before I could he was before me. Kneeling at the edge of the bed and cupping my face in his palms.

“What’s the matter??”

The surprise and alarm in his voice hurt, breaking my composure even more, and I brought shaking hands up to catch his wrists. If I had thought to pull his hands away, I would have struggled; he kept his grip like iron, though somehow still gentle. I found I didn’t have the strength to remove them anyways; emotionally or physically. I would have shook my head, but he held me still. My lips flapped uselessly for a second and I looked everywhere but his face.

“... The emissaries are from the human court.” I told him, and knew more than a little of my distress leaked into my tone. I swallowed hard and clenched my jaw. I looked down, trying to shake my head again but captured by his strong hands. “... They didn’t send word… Something… Something must be wrong-”

“Ok. It’s ok.” He ran his thumbs under my eyes, and I finally dared to look up at him. The sight of his scarlet eyes, warm and comforting, soothed me, and I managed to take a shuddering breath. “Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it. Ok? We’ll be alright.”

I was beginning to shake in my rising panic. “... Do you think... What if something… “ My voice broke again. My lips moved, trying to find the words I didn’t have the strength to speak.

Grier rested his forehead against mine, and I felt his breath splash against my cheeks. “Morgana is fine.” I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to swallow my heart before it choked me. “I’m sure of it. Everything will be fine.”

“I should have kept her with me.” I snapped, anger mixing with my fear. “I should have brought her here, damn that bloody…” I stopped, letting out a sharp breath. “I swear… if anything happened to her…”

He shook his head. “We’ll bring her here.” He promised. “We’ll keep her safe. But this may not be about her.” He rubbed his palm gently against my jaw. “Let’s see why they are here. Then we’ll go from there, ok?”

I hesitated, then nodded slowly. Feeling my panic begin to subside. “Y-you’re right… I’m sorry I-I-”

“Don’t apologize.” He ordered, sitting back on his ankles. “I’m here for you. In whatever capacity you need me.” A teasing smile split his lips. “Even if it is too damn early.”

I was too anxious to laugh, but felt a little better for his words. I jumped at the light knock at the door. “That’ll be Seoc; I sent for some fresh clothes.”

Grier nodded. “Let me get dressed too. Then we’ll go see what they want.”

I returned his nod, composing myself and striding quickly over to the door. Within the half hour, we were both dressed and following Seoc down to the lower levels. I fretted with the hem of my vest, tugging it straight more than once as we moved. Impatient and anxious but carefully building up the steel mask and stiff shoulders. I noticed Grier shooting me looks out the corners of his eyes, but couldn’t bear to return one. One emotional upheaval at a time, I reasoned. I felt numb, as if I was walking through a dizzying fog, and none of this was real. Dread dug cold fingers into my spine, dragging me down.

Hibik was waiting, and opened the door ahead of us, bowing low as we passed then pulling it closed. I stiffened as the latch clunked, resisting the urge to scowl at the sight that greeted me in the small private side room off the main hall. It certainly didn’t lessen the tension in my spine.

“Sir Gareth.” I greeted him flatly as he turned to face me, a small scowl on his own face. And was for once pleased that formalities required a cold edge. “And by whose authority do you dare come unannounced-”

“By mine.” Came another voice, deep and powerful, from the second occupant of the room who had his cowl pulled low to obscure his face where he sat by the fire.

I almost took a step back, barely managing to keep my eyes from widening in surprise at the familiar voice as the man stood. He swept his hood back, revealing fair skin and neatly short-cropped gold-blonde hair set atop a squared face. His gaze flicked to Grier briefly before meeting mine. And it was my own eyes that stared back at me, or more… our father’s eyes.

“Crown Prince Valerianus...” I breathed, forgetting myself for a moment in my shock.

My older brother nodded to me tightly. “Prince Nikostratus.” His brow became dark, and he squared his shoulders, tucking his hands behind his back. “... We need to talk.”

....

UPDATE: Part eight is HERE

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socialwriter · 4 years ago

Text

Ch.3-Your Song

Listen alongside: this and this

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Female Reader

1.8k+ words

tw: Health issues, blood, cursing, prostitution, financial issues, implications of sexual activity

A/n: So this is when stuff slowly but surely starts picking up steam so..👀👀👀

JJ nods, sending the two a half hearted smile before sneaking another glance at you. You approach Topper, a smile forming on your lips before you remember that you have to do this for professional reasons. “I’ve invited him back to my dressing room.” You inform Topper, causing him to grab you by the shoulder and kiss you on the cheek, grinning. “That’s my girl, I knew you could do it.” You can’t help but look back at the blond haired, blue eyed man, and resent the fact that you can’t help but blush when you see that he’s already looking at you.

As soon as you are behind closed doors, away from the eyes of paying customers, you let yourself breathe and think about everything that had just happened. This mysterious Duke, how he was somehow the man of your dreams, someone you were falling for. You had to stop it.In your line of work, feelings weren’t allowed. They got in the way of allowing you to work your magic, weighing heavy on your mind and distracting you from the task at hand. Then your mind wanders back to your performance, when it had felt like you couldn’t breathe

You had experienced stage fright before and panic, nerves and fright, but nothing like that. There was nothing emotionally that caused you to feel panicked and be unable to breathe. So if it wasn’t your nerves constricting your airways, had the problem been physical. Before you know it, a tickle is in your throat and you find yourself coughing uncontrollably into the silk handkerchief that you usually used to pat away at any sweat after a performance. But when you finished and pulled back the handkerchief, you were surprised to see it speckled with blood. Before you could worry any further about it, a knock sounded at your door, presumably, the duke, so you quickly stash away the bloodied fabric in the drawer of your vanity before letting out a breathy “Come in.”

However, it was just Sarah, Kiara, and some of the other girls, so you relaxed your stance and sat down on the love seat in your dressing room. “What is it ladies? I have someone who should be stopping by shortly, and I’m assuming that most of you do too.” You assert, glancing at all of their faces. When Topper wasn’t around, you often took over telling the girls what to do, making sure they were on the right path.

“Is it true that this place is going under?” Kiara blurted out before anyone could say anything, earning a light thwack on the arm from Sarah. “It’s just..some of us overheard your conversation with Top..and we want to know if we need to be looking around for work already.” Sarah explained, a distressed look on her face. Now that you were looking at all of them, though, you saw a certain amount of panic evident in all of their eyes. Everyone who worked at the Moulin Rouge depended on it for survival, and without it, most of them would be left in ruins. More than ever, you felt the pressures associated with having Rafe Cameron as your customer tonight, needing to reel him in not for yourself, but for all the girls standing before you.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m handling it.”

“Y/n, if you had enough money to keep this place a float I don’t think you’d be working here in the first place.”

“I SAID I’M HANDLING IT.” You exclaimed to all the girls, some of them clearly uncomfortable at your outburst, others a little frightened. “My customer tonight is a duke by the name of Rafe Cameron. By his standards, our usual high paying customers are poor. By the end of the night, I’ll have worked my magic on him, he’ll see how great this place is, and he’ll be investing enough money to keep this place in business for years.”

“Are you sure?” Sarah questioned, placing a hand on your shoulder. You place your right hand over hers, looking her in the eyes and nodding. “Of course I’m sure. There’s no other option but to be sure. I’m doing this for all of you, and I refuse to let you down.”

---

JJ was standing in the hallway outside your dressing room, pacing up and down the hallway. He had heard voices from inside, so he figured it best to wait outside until the conversation was over. Suddenly, the door to the room opened and a group of girls who looked like they worked here all exited. Some eyed him up and down, others giggled and whispered things to each other. Swallowing hardly, he gave the group of girls a parting glance before approaching the open door, knocking on the door to let you know that he was here. You turn around, a smirk forming on your lips when you meet eyes with the blond. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show.”

“And leave you hanging? I could never.”

You giggle at his antics, gesturing for him to take a seat while you walk over to your vanity. “Would you like some champagne or wine?”

JJ shook his head, fiddling with a loose string on the end of his string. This time, he had to talk to you about the musical. He couldn’t let Pope and John B down. “There’s actually something I need to discuss with you.”

You walk over to him, champagne in hand, and take a seat next to him. “Me first. I realized that we never got formalities out of the way when we first talked. You clearly know that I’m y/n, but I don’t know what I should be calling you.”

JJ furrowed his eyebrows, confused by what you were saying. “Um, you can call me by my name? JJ Maybank.”

Your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach and you pull away from the man who is apparently named JJ, not Rafe, suddenly feeling foolish. How could you not have asked him for his name in the first place? How had you not asked Topper what Rafe Cameron had actually looked like? How did you let yourself fall for the wrong man? “You’re..you’re not Rafe Cameron?” You ask lowly, unable to tear your eyes away from the floor.

JJ’s face falls, and he shakes his head before realizing that you aren’t looking at him. “No..”

Suddenly, the realization hits you that Topper could be coming by with the real Rafe Cameron at any moment, and that they both would be very angry if they saw you in here with another man that was not the duke. “You need to get out,” you nervously tell the blond, standing up to walk towards the door. Before you can make it very far, though, JJ grabs your wrist, keeping you where you are. “I won’t leave you.”

Letting out a shaky breath, you shake your head, tears welling in your eyes. “You don’t understand, you can’t be here. We need the duke and his money, or this place..everyone is relying on me and I won’t let some silly feelings get in the way of doing what I need to do.”

Standing up, JJ takes your face gently in his hands, finally forcing you to look him in the eyes since his identity was revealed to you. “How can you let money get in the way of your feelings. I know what we have is real. I felt it. And I won’t let you deny that just because you need some money.”

You scoff, tearing yourself away from his grip. “You do realize what I do for work, right? I’m not allowed to have feelings for other people. I’m not allowed to feel what I’m feeling for you.”

JJ huffed, unable to express the way he was feeling with words. He had never been very good with them, and that sometimes got him in trouble. But then the realization dawned on him, that while he wasn’t the most eloquent when it came to speaking, there was one way that he could always express himself: music. So he started to sing.

“I don’t have much money but boy, if I did, I’d buy a big house where we both could live.”

You glance over at him incredulously, wondering if this man was really singing before you. “What are you doing?”

“My gift is my song, and this one’s for you.” JJ sang out, slowly approaching you. In an effort to make it seem like whatever he was doing had no effect on you, you cross your arms, scoffing at his antics. “Have you lost your mind.” Yet, you found your feet planted to the ground, unable to move away from JJ.

“I hope you don’t mind, that I put down in words.” JJ finally reaches you, grabbing your waist and pulling you closer to him. You gasp, but make no move to separate yourself from him, relishing the feeling of being in his arms one more. Placing your hands on his chest, you fiddle with his collar, finding it much easier to look at that then into his eyes. If you do look into his eyes, you’d see the emotion in them. You’d see the love in them. And you didn’t know if you’d be able to say no to him if you saw that he actually meant the words he was saying, or rather singing. “How wonderful life is, while you’re in the world.”

You close your eyes unable to stop the tears from flowing down your face. How had you fallen for this man so quickly? JJ gingerly placing one of his hands on your cheek, wiping way your tears with the pad of his thumb. “Look at me.” He whispers softly, coaxing you to open your eyes.

“JJ, I can’t do this…”

The blond places his forehead against yours, your noses barely touching for a split second. “I would never force you to do anything that you wouldn’t want to. I just have a feeling that you want this just as much as I do.” His words, unbeknownst to him, strike a chord within you. By nature of your job, you were forced to do things with men. While you technically consented, it was all for money, and not because you wanted. And here you were, with a man that you wanted to be with for you, and he was giving you all the power. He was giving you a choice. Your heart swells at the thought, and before you can stop yourself or think twice, you softly press your lips against his. He responds immediately, pulling you closer and kissing back with a gentle passion. It feels like the two of you mesh perfectly together, fireworks exploding all around you. Before the two of you get much further though, the door to your dressing room swings open, revealing Topper. “Y/n, what the hell is going on here? Who is this?”

You pull back from the kiss, pushing JJ away and look at your enraged boss, gulping. This could not be good.

Tags:

@normatural @sarahcxmeron @bricksatanakinswindow @ssjiara @tomfreakinghollandneedsaoscar @girlsru1eboysdroo1 @the-crackhead-next-door @perfektionsmakel @teamnick @danicarosaline @gracie-jo15 @jjmbanks @meandmymessyminds @keepingupwiththepogues @jjaybank @x-lulu @holypicklelightnickel

@lefthandwritings @rudths

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alfred-braginsky · 5 years ago

Note

WRITE THE 1930’S GANSTER FIC YES YES YES IM HERE FOR IT

You got it !

Warning: Some graphic depictions of violence, dead body, organized crime, smoking. Gangster boyfriends inspired by this piece of art.

Thank you @capncronchnberries and your followers for the consistent inspiration lately! @ the people who sent me prompts a whilllleee ago I’m working on them I swear! | AO3 |

1931 Chicago, Illinois

A wet crack resounded against the brick walls of the isolated alley. The occasional footsteps could be heard from late night dock workers making their way to speakeasies. Nothing like a visit to the ol’ gin mill to put a few bucks into the pockets of the gangsters that ran them.

Alfred tightly gripped the bloodied baseball bat as he examined his work. A man dressed in a cheap suit eyes wide open; head split open blood spilling from the blunt force that was used to kill him, laid in horror in the forgotten alley.

“It makes it harder to clean up this way.”

“Yeah, but you know he had it comin’ and I’ve been real stressed lately, it was good to let it out.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t use your beloved gun.” Ivan took a handkerchief and handed it to Alfred, who graciously took it to wipe the speckled blood on his face.

“She’s a beaut! Dame of my life. Like I said, been kind stressed lately. You know the boss’ been down our necks for collecting our green before it’s due.”

Ivan nodded. It’s true. Romulus had been getting up in the years, still young, but not as young as he used to be. There was talk about him starting to lose control of the empire of crime he built. Rumors that didn’t sit well with him. He sent his best blonde with a baseball bat to squash the talk of the town.

“You talk about this gun as if she as feelings.”

“Pfft, she’s got about as much feelings as your rusty pipe.”

“Leave Anya out of this.”

“Aw, are you jealous, big guy? C'mon you know I’ve put my finger on your trigger in a way Amelia doesn’t know.”

Ivan’s eyes rolled so far back he was afraid they would be stuck there forever. Alfred could be so crude and unprofessional, but the way he smirked at him so smugly he could only let out a sigh of annoyance.

“There is a man lying dead in the alley and all you can do is make lewd comments.”

“Want me to cover his ears?”

“We need to cover him up.”

Alfred nodded, his demeanor changing into something more serious. The blood would eventually darken and blend into every other ominous stain on the brown brick wall.

“Right, before any coppers show up.”

“Precisely.”

Romulus had paid off a considerable amount of the police department, however, they still needed to be careful and dispose of the bodies as discreetly as possible. The corpse was wrapped into burlap cloth bleeding through the thick fabric. Alfred had the body on his shoulder as Ivan backed the car into the narrow alley. The trunk was popped open and Alfred dumped the body there along with his bat and shut the door. He sat up front in the passenger seat next to Ivan.

They drove in silence; which Ivan thought was out of character for Alfred. Even after killing a man in cold blood, the man was usually bubbly and had a motor on his mouth going faster than any car he’s seen. But today, he’s quiet. Was Romulus really giving him a hard time? Or maybe it was Arthur? He’ll give him his space for now.

They drove to Bubbly Creek. The place always reeked of sulfur and death, but it was the perfect spot to get rid of any garbage. They stopped the car and got as close to the river as possible. It was hard to see where they were stepping, the moon not helping much in illuminating their way.

Alfred and Ivan got out of the car. Alfred lingered for a moment and immediately lit a cigarette while Ivan went to open the trunk and get the cinder blocks out, placing them on the ground. The smaller of the two took a long drag of the nicotine stick before making his way to the other man.

He slipped the smoke from his lips as he approached the trunk and passed it over to Ivan. Ivan had already begun reaching for it just as Alfred offered it and took in between his fingers in one smooth motion. Sharing a smoke while getting rid of a body had become a familiar ritual between them.

The body was flung over Alfred’s shoulders, and Ivan picked up both cinder blocks and rope while the cigarette was safely placed between his lips. Mud squelched as they made their way closer to the bridge.

Alfred set the body onto the ground and Ivan got work with the heavy bricks and secured them around where the man’s neck was and his legs. They hoisted him back up onto the ledge of the bridge.

“1. 2. 3.” and pushed him into the river and the man fell with a splash. They didn’t need to look to see that the man sunk fast.

“Let’s go back, solnyshko.” Ivan typically wouldn’t use the nickname he had for Alfred outside their apartment, but he could see the stress of the day weighing on him. It was all worth it seeing the way his lips curled into an amused smile.

“Aren’t you full of surprises?”

Ivan turned his head left and right as he searched the area. He knew no one was here. It was the dead of night at one of the foulest smelling areas since the Union Stock Yards. Alfred watched him curiously then eyes opening wide as Ivan kissed him.

Their cautious kiss ended as quickly as it had started. Alfred’s worried creases were replaced by crinkles of elation.

“Buy your best fella a drink?” Alfred’s eyes sparkled in the moonlight. Ivan’s heart skipped a beat.

“I suppose you deserve it.”

#rusame #aph russia #aph america #amerus #ficlet #my shit #ask

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curly-hair-kid · 5 years ago

Text

coming of age - steve harrington

requested off of #66 on this prompt list!! i’m tagging @joemhazzello cuz i think you’ll like this.

song i listened to: ‘coming of age’ by foster the people

guys i actuallly really really like how this turned out! this takes place after season three, it’s pretty emotional with a good amount of fluff

“So, why are we out here?” Steve questioned, sitting on the hood of his car from where you had parked it on a hill at the edge of town.

You raised your eyebrows, sitting next to him. “Why do you think?”

Steve shrugged, looking out at the burnt orange sunset over Hawkins, picking at the zipper on his sea green jacket. “I dunno,” he looked over at you and pouted, “but it’s kind of sketchy considering you dragged me out here and won’t tell me what’s going on.”

“Shut up,” you teased, nudging him. “The reason I brought you out here is to celebrate.”

“Celebrate?”

You nodded, hopping off of the car, and going to open the door to the backseat, bringing out a six pack of beer.

“Where the hell did you get that?” Steve asked, looking back at you and laughing a little bit.

“Stole it from Dad,” you conceded, getting back on the roof of the car, handing a beer to Steve.

“So what are we celebrating, you criminal?” Steve asked, cracking the beer open.

“We are celebrating our 3 month anniversary of surviving the “fire” at the mall,” you answered, taking a gulp.

You could feel Steve’s eyes on you. “What?” you inquired, glancing over at him.

“Woah... I can’t believe it’s been that long,” he breathed, sitting back.

“I can’t believe we haven’t gone crazy yet,” you muttered.

Steve took another drink of the beer, tossing his head back and taking a gulp, the slight wind of the evening gently tossing his hair, bringing some color to his cheeks. He looked good.

“Well,” he hummed, lifting up his drink to the ever-fading harvest orange sky, and turning a small smile to you, “here’s to not going crazy.”

You looked over at him, giving him a side smile, raising your beer. “Cheers.”

There was a silence, it was comfortable. All that could be heard was the echo of The Eagles from the radio, drifting through the rolled down windows of the car. You relished in the beer and Steve’s company.

Absentmindedly, you noticing how his outstretched jean-clad leg, rested against your crossed leg. That too was comfortable and settling in a way that made you tingle and feel warm, something that had been hard to come by in the past few months. A moment of solace.

You turned your head to Steve, who was staring down at the town. “Thank you.”

He glanced over to you, and you made note that his deep brown eyes had a speckle of orange from the sunset. Matter of fact, everything around you seemed to be tinted in that bonfire orange, even the traces of Steve’s face.

“For what?” he asked quietly, his eyes flicking around your face.

“For not going crazy,” you said bluntly, shooting Steve a small smile, hoping it conveyed the emotions and the gratefulness that you didn’t know how to put into words.

Steve’s eyes softened, the corners of his mouth turning up. “Anytime.”

As close as you were, your eyes effortlessly flitted down to his lips, partly gaped and a plump pink. You immediately looked up, your heart racing so fast. He definitely noticed, you thought to yourself.

You couldn’t kiss him. But there was something drawing you closer to him, it was something about him. In a matter of seconds, you furrowed your brows and took a breath in, leaning in and pressing your lips on his.

Steve made a surprised noise against your lips, his hand automatically flying to your cheek, kissing you back slightly.

You pulled away fast, Steve’s hand dropping from your face. His eyes were wide, and you stared at him, waiting for him to do something, frightened.

Steve’s eyes trailed over your face, a slight frown on his face.

“Was that stupid?” you prodded breathlessly, still tasting the beer from his lips.

Steve shook his head. “No,” he answers, running a hand through his hair and leaning back against the windshield, looking out into the sky.

He put his hands under his head and chuckled. “You wanna know something? I really liked it.”

You felt your heart impossibly speed up as he looked over at you, lips slightly apart, a grin on his face.

You smiled back at him, for once, speechless.

Steve looked back up, and took a swig of the beer, a smile still on his lips, and hummed. “I liked it a lot.”

The orange that melted into his scent, the orange that tinted the car and his hair and the beer, from the sinking sun; that was your favorite color.

#maddy writes #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve x reader #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things 3

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whumpywhumper · 5 years ago

Text

Christine and Markus Part-3

Thank you @0idril0 as usual for cheering me on and putting up with the fact that I took a break from our collab project to work on this 😅

Catch Part One and Two at the respective links--TW for those since non-con touching occurs

Edit for Masterpost

***

Christine’s hand moved from his shoulder in a soft sweep of dainty fingers against hot flesh as she walked behind him. Her cold skin was a dramatic contrast to the fevered feeling he experienced throughout his body, and Markus shivered, unsuccessfully swallowing a whimper when he felt the energies being collected in the air. A hand settled on the back of his neck, the vampire’s thumb rubbing small circles into his hyperaware skin, just under his ear.

“Duh..Nnn. . .mmn…” Don’t! Nonono! The half-worded pleas unconsciously fell from Markus’s lips before he got himself back under control, shaking his head, trying to pull away from Christine’s hand.

His breathing hitched in his throat when she chuckled, leaning forward so that her breath tickled his ear, “Were you going to beg, darling?”

Tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes as they fluttered open, trying to catch onto something to take his attention away from the impending pain, clenching his teeth together. F-fuck you. He shook his head, again, and shuddered in a sob before her hand clenched on his neck. His entire body ignited like a lightning strike.

Markus screamed.

He couldn’t help the raw, blood-curdling note of devastation that thundered from him, echoing out of his mouth and around the concrete walls of the warehouse. Every muscle screwed up tight, taught as a bowstring on the precipice of snapping, his chest contracting with the air that was driven out of him. Something fractured in him, his vision sparking and fading as black spots swam in front of his vision, the last of his air wisping into the room. Oxygen deprivation sank into his brain, his body slumping and jittering at the assault, unable to draw another breath in past the screeching jangle of nerves being shredded up and down his spine.

The pain was gone a moment later, Markus slumping as Christine removed her hand from the back of his neck, pushing his head forward so that his chin rested on his chest. Echoes of that shattering, rendering torture traveled up and down his spine as he swung there by his manacles. His wrists squalled at him with the amount of pressure on the delicate bones, and his chest spasmed as he tried to draw in a breath. He coughed, the copper taste of blood from the busted blood vessels in his throat coating his tongue as a broken cry poured out of his mouth when something popped and gave way in his wrist. Spittle coated his lips, and he drew another gasp in over the cool liquid, his lips stinging from the dry cracking.

“Markus,” a low voice murmured to him, “Markus, look at me, darling.” He whined, high and brittle, drawing in reedy gasps of air as his eyelids flickered, half-open, eyes dazed and barely tracking. Entire body shuddering, Markus moaned when a hand carded into his hair, drawing his face up with a tightening fist on the sweat-damp locks. “Markus, look at me.”

He tried, he really did, his eyes rolling in his head to find the source of the voice. Everything was blurry, dark and too bright at the same time, his eyes not listening to his frantic begging to focus. I’m trying, I’m trying, please . . . He sucked in another breath into his dry throat, tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth, throat clicking. A hand came up under his chin, around his jaw, and he fought for a sip of air past his panic.

The hand carded through his hair in gentle, sweeping strokes. “Shhh, I can see you trying, darling,” a choked sob stuck in his throat when her fingers dug back into those same places in the sides of his jaw, “you’re scared I’ll hurt you again. You should be scared, little witch. This nerve here that I accessed—“ she tapped the side of his face ”— it’s called the trigeminal nerve. It is the most pain receptive nerve in your entire body.” The dark shape that was lingering over his face came closer, and Markus’s eyelashes dusted his cheeks when he blinked, unsteadily focusing on Christine’s face. “There you are.”

Her face came ever closer, and Markus shook in his chains, a strangled note of surprise and fear pushing out of his throat when Christine’s lips met his. What-? The kiss didn’t last long, no more than a pressing of soft lips against his own, but when the vampire leaned back she smiled, lips speckled red from Markus’s coughed up blood. She licked them clean, a wanton noise coming from her throat, “You’re right, Lucien, he’s like ambrosia.” She tightened her hand in the top of his hair, and forced his head back, other hand leaving his jaw to trace the column of his throat.

Oh god, no, please. Markus tried to struggle, an exposed and vulnerable feeling echoing in his chest at the revealing of the arteries in his neck making the animal part of his brain want to fight and get away from her hold, but it was useless.

“Do you want to beg for Lucien yet, Markus? Do you want to go back to him?”

Yes, yes he wanted to beg but he bit his lip, hard enough to pierce the skin, not allowing the pathetic mewling to fall any farther than his throat, the words exploding in his chest with the dull pounding of his heart against his ribcage. He shut his eyes tight, decidedly not looking for the other vampire. He wasn’t a rescuer, he wasn’t!

Christine laughed, full and throaty, “He really is stubborn, Lucien.”

“Yes, he is, beloved.” Markus jumped when another hand brushed against his arm, the slipping slide of a thicker, rougher palm eased by the still dripping blood from his wrists. The hand came to settle on the back of Markus’s head, cradling it, taking over for Christine as her hand moved to rest over the curve of his ribs. Markus’s eyes fluttered open when Lucien’s hand moved his head to the side by the grip on his hair, facilitating the exposure of the side of his neck.

His eyes were huge, he knew they were, as they looked up at Lucien. The angle was awkward and, even though he was able to keep the begging from leaving his lips, he knew his desperation and terror was etched into his face, screaming from his eyes. Lucien only smiled, black eyes watching Christine lower her head to Markus’s neck.

Markus thought he knew what to expect from Christine’s bite. The sharp sting of fangs piercing his skin, the cool drag of lips and tongue over ripped and sensitive flesh, the anxiety-inducing feeling of being drained and fed upon by something much stronger than him, until the pulse of venom took everything away in a wash of overwhelming pain and drugged stupefaction.

This was nothing like that.

Her teeth felt like daggers through his neck, spearing through and tearing the skin and muscle away. Markus jerked, a ragged sound popping out of his mouth as her teeth punctured through his skin. The witch tried to draw back, chest heaving, legs tensing and threatening to try to find purchase underneath him, but Lucien and Christine didn’t let him move. They held him in place easily, like one would a kitten or babe who squirmed in their arms. Lucien was a wall behind him, holding his head steady, not letting his jerk backward take him more than a few centimeters. Christine’s hand brushed up and down his rib cage, the other working its way around to hold his neck closer to her mouth, ensuring he couldn’t get away.

Christine’s jaw clenched on his throat, and she growled as he arched up into her involuntarily, an agonized scream building up in his chest, unable to force its way through this throat. Black swam in front of his eyes, but, disconcertingly, he felt Lucien gently caress his cheek as Christine fed. Markus was allowed a gasp of air into his panting mouth when the female vampire swallowed, tongue and jaw moving with a shuddering moan.

Markus moaned himself when she kept feeding, already weak from blood loss, he felt a shuddering chill run down his spine as he trembled against Lucien before going limp. Tears streaked down his temples. He couldn’t see Lucien for the blurriness to his sight. I can’t, can’t, please. . .

“Christine... “ Lucien said, warning clear in his tone.

Markus cried out when a second piercing pain lanced through his throat, his chains rattling overhead as he attempted to yank away from Christine, but then his blood was replaced by lava, and he couldn’t struggle anymore. He seized when her venom entered his bloodstream in a pulsing spurt, entire body clenching and quaking as his muscles jerked and snatched against his bones. He screamed, mindlessly, the sound tumbling into a begging wail as her teeth left his throat and the pain didn’t stop. He could feel her sealing the puncture marks with her tongue, the cold sensation not alleviating the fire that roared under his skin. He was burning alive.

Christine stepped away from him as his wail turned into keening open-mouthed sobs, tears pouring endlessly down his face as his body shuddered and jerked as the fire rendered his bones to ash. Lucien’s lips brushed against his ear as Markus cried, his voice barely clear through the encompassing agony, “Is there something you want to say to me, Markus?”

“Ple-ple-ase!” he begged. Pleasepleasepleaseplease, oh god, please, make it stop!

“Please what, darling?” The witch continued to cry, shaking and bawling with the pain that overwhelmed his exhausted mind. “Shhh, Markus, I know you can do it.” Lucien brushed a hand through his hair in a facsimile of comfort, “It’s just two words, you can do it.”

He swallowed, breath hitching and sticking in his throat “P-p-lease, Luc-Lucien,” he hiccuped, sniveling and limp in his chains. I can’t, I can’t, pleaseplease.

“There you go, darling,” Lucien cooed, arm coming to wrap around Markus’s heaving chest, taking the weight off of his wrists. The manacles snicked against Markus’s wrists as they were unlocked, his arms gently lowered to his sides as Lucien laid him out on the cold concrete.

Markus groaned, deep in his throat, as the pain continued to roll through him. His heart was pounding fitfully in his chest, breaths starting to come quick and shallow as darkness encroached on his tear blurred vision. “Please, Lucien, please,” he begged, silently, “Make it stop. I can’t.”

He felt the vampires moving around him but the thundering of blood rushing through his ears drowned them out until Lucien knelt in front of him, fingers at his throat. He whined, shaking his head, shuddering. “Easy, Markus,” Lucien murmured, “this will make it stop.”

A soft prick against his neck, so much gentler than Christine’s bite, and a cold sensation had him twitching. The knobs of his spine digging into the concrete. But Lucien’s hand rested against his hair, thumb brushing soothingly on his forehead, and his eyelids fluttered. He didn’t struggle when blackness took everything away.

#begging #vampire whump #vampire #Lucien #Markus #Christine #Markus/Lucien series #pain

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immortalghostkami · 5 years ago

Text

The Simple Things (Tamaki/OC - Oneshot)

Combining her long, pale green hair, Tsukiko couldn't help but hum a little tune. After all, today was the day! The day she had been looking forward to it for so long. There was nothing that could put her down, after all, all her dreams of romance and love were about to come true!

"You seem to be in a good mood."

Spinning around, Tsukiko gave a toothy grin to her friend.

"Bibi, I am! How has your morning been?" Tsukiko chirped.

"It's been going well," Bibimi laughs, taking out her lipstick.

"How have you bee-"

"Ecstatic!" Tsukiko exclaimed, not even letting her finish her sentence.

"You know, today's Valentine's Day," Tsukiko said, leaning on the counter.

"Is that so?" Bibimi asked, amused.

Opening her lipstick, Bibimi stopped halfway through putting it on, unable to help herself from laughing at Tsukiko's eager face. Bouncing on her heels, the green-haired girl was practically screaming "ask me what I'm planning".

Rolling her eyes, she bit the bait.

"Are you planning any-"

"I'm going to do it!" Tsukiko interrupted, unable to contain her excitement.

"I think it's time, it's going to be grand and romantic. I'm going to tell him at lunch after I give him the gift I got. I spent days-no, weeks picking it out; months maybe? Either way, I'm pretty sure he'll love it! Roses will be blooming, the sun shining, birds singing! It's going to be perfect, so romantic and adorable that it'll make you want to vomit," she explained, hooking her arm around the other's neck as she laid out her imaginary scene.

"If all goes according to plan, that is," Bibimi chuckled at the girl.

"What?"

"Love, I do enjoy all your antics, and you're always so precise but... do you have a plan B to this little mission of yours?" Bibimi asked, amused but concerned.

"Of course I do, if he's not at lunch, I'll leave a letter in his shoe locker," Tsukiko proudly declared, puffing out her chest.

Rolling her eyes, Bibimi laughed as she rolled with Tsukiko's antics.

The day seemed to pass by ever so slowly after that. Classes seemed to drag on as Tsukiko found herself staring out the window.

The sky was beautiful that day. A bright, clear blue with speckles of white, fluffy clouds that dotted it.

"Shimizu," Power Loader's voice echoed from under his helmet.

"Where would you put the PTU in this mechanism?" he asked from the front of the class, snapping the girl from her thoughts.

"The PTU?" she repeated, her mind searching for the answer.

"To the side of the transmission of course," she nodded to herself.

"Although you're correct, if you were paying attention, you'd have noticed that we don't need a PTU. Please pay attention, this will be on the test next week," he sighed, turning back to the board as her classmates giggled.

"Uh-Yes sir...!" Tsukiko flushed embarrassed.

By the time the lunch bell rang, Tsukiko was able to let go of a breath she didn't even know she was holding. Quickly packing up her things, Tsukiko was out the door... almost. As she approached the classroom doors, an overwhelming amount of fear suddenly took over her, forcing her steps to falter and her fingers to tremble.

She was nervous.

What if he didn't feel the same way? What if she'd just make a fool of herself and lose someone she considered a good friend? What if-

Slapping her cheeks, Tsukiko took a deep breath before forcing her legs to move forwards. She had made up her mind and she wasn't going to back out now.

Entering the cafeteria, Tsukiko was greeted by her friends. Giving them a large smile, they exchanged small gifts.

"Shimizu Senpai, you changed your hairstyle, is something going on today?" Miyo Mikami, a tall, pink cuttlefish asked.

"There is Mikami," Tsukiko laughs, her cheeks heating up.

Eyes darting around the room, Tsukiko spotted him in a far corner of the cafeteria, sitting next to Mirio. Tamaki sat quietly eating his lunch while the two next to him chatted away, in the same place they always were.

"Have you given anything to Amajiki Senpai yet?" Miyo asked, following Tsukiko's gaze.

"Ah-No, not yet," Tsukiko sheepishly laughed, causing the other to roll her eyes.

"It's as if I'm watching a rom-com or something half the time. If it's not you, it's Hoshiko," Miyo sighs, her gaze drifting to a scruffy, white, holographic haired girl not too far away. She was dragging a tiny, delinquent looking brunette to join her next to Class 1-C's Hitoshi Shinsou.

Laughing slightly at them, Tsukiko smiles, "Speaking of those two..."

Handing Mikami a few candy bags, she blushes while tilting her head towards the Big 3, "I've made up my mind. I'm going to finally do it, today, right now. Mind giving these to them for me?"

Taking them with wide eyes, Miyo gave the green-haired girl a reassuring grin.

Excusing herself, Tsukiko made her way over to the three, politely waving whenever people spotted her but never staying to chat. As she drew closer to the table, she could feel her heart pounding faster.

Sitting down next to Nejire, Tsukiko spotted a group of girls that seemed to hover nearby. They seemed to be trying to cheer up a member of their party. The girl they were talking to seemed nervous. Pushing it to the back of her mind, Tsukiko turned to her friends.

"Hey guys, how have you all been?" Tsukiko smiled.

"I'm great!" Nejire excitedly exclaimed before her eyes darted to Tsukiko's hair.

"You did your hair? It looks good! Hey-hey, what do you guys think? Doesn't Tsukiko look good? Are you going on a date?" Nejire questions, her greeting turning into a small interrogation.

At the mention of a "date," Tsukiko became flustered while Tamaki visibly stiffened.

"H-Hando, i-it's rude to pr-pry...!" Tamaki stuttered, only for Nejire to divert her questions to him.

Laughing softly, Tsukiko explains, rubbing the back of her neck, "No, I don't have a date, just... trying to get a certain hero student to notice me."

At this, Mirio and Negire laugh slightly, while Tamaki shifts uncomfortably next to Mirio, face sullen when Nejire asks, "By the way, Tsukiko, have you gotten any chocolates yet?"

"Yeah, how about you guys?" she asks, holding up a small bag from Mikami.

"Same here," Mirio laughs before hooking his arm around Tamaki's shoulder.

"Tamaki here's been busy all day though," he grins, "Quite the lady's man we got."

"Mirio... T-There just obligatory chocolates..." the shy boy mumbles, shooting a soft glare at his friend.

"Aw come on Amajiki! You-" but Nejire's giggling was interrupted by the group of students Tsukiko had noticed earlier.

Shuffling up to their table, the nervous girl from earlier was pushed by her friends towards them.

Eyes darting everywhere, she clutched something close to her chest as a crimson blush stained her cheeks.

She was short and busty, and hand the wings of a Luna Moth. The fluff on her chest only seemed to accentuate her features more. Her white hair reminded Tsukiko of dandelion puff, soft and free.

"U-Um... Um... Uh... E-Excuse me, A-A-Amaj-jiki Senpai..." she stuttered, voice soft and squeaky, batting her lashes.

"Uh, y-yes...?" he answered, surprised by her wanting to talk to him.

Nejire and Mirio gave each other curious glances, while Tsukiko finally recognized the girl. They met once when she needed a pair of goggles repaired.

Squeezing her eyes shut, the girl held out a pale pink letter with shaky hands.

Her blush only deepened as she sputtered, "P-Please give me your answer after school behind the main gym...!"

Tsukiko could feel her eyes widen as she watched Tamaki hesitantly take the letter, sheepishly agreeing to the request. She swears she saw sparks fly as the petite girl's eyes sparkled under the light.

Bowing her head towards the table, the girl quickly made her way back to her friends, unable to hide her large, giddy grin.

Tsukiko could hear her friends teasing and congratulating her as they left the cafeteria, leaving the room just a little quieter.

Tamaki simply stared at the letter, baffled at what just happened. His mind, still trying to process everything.

"Wasn't that Oomizuao Mushi? From 2-B, right?" Nejire asked, a hand to her lips, breaking the silence that fell over the table.

"Yeah... I heard somewhere she liked an upperclassman, but I wasn't expecting this," Mirio chimed in.

"Hey-hey, Amajiki, what do you think?" Nejire asked, snapping the boy from his thoughts.

"U-Um... well... I-I'm not really sure..." he mumbled.

"You know, you're such a lucky guy Amajiki," Tsukiko cuts in, a wistful look crossing her face.

"Getting a love letter like that? It's so romantic," Tsukiko sighed, snaking a hand into her bag, pushing a decorative box deeper inside.

"What?" the other three asked in unison, not believing their ears.

"Yeah! You're so cool! You don't get a love letter every day you know?" she grinned, the grip of her hand inside her bag tightening.

"What are you saying Tsukiko? I thought you-" but Tsukiko cut Negire off.

"I think Mushi's a sweet girl. Passionate, hardworking, not to mention super cute and girly. The perfect "girl next door" type, you know?" she laughs.

"Dating someone like her would be a dream come true," she says, finding it harder and harder to smile, but refusing to let her facade crack.

Not wanting to be there any longer, Tsukiko jumped at the "buzz" of her phone. Glancing at it, she stands up, holding it tighter than necessary to her chest.

"Sorry, I got to go," she chuckles, glancing at the letter in Tamaki's hands before saying, "You two would make a cute couple."

Quickly making her way out of the cafeteria, Tsukiko missed the worried glances Mirio and Nejire gave each other, as Tamaki silently looked down at the letter.

Only once she was sure she was alone did Tsukiko drop the act. Leaning back against a wall, Tsukiko could feel her eyes starting to sting. She was so frustrated at herself, but she wouldn't cry. Taking a deep breath and slapping her cheeks, Tsukiko recollected herself.

It didn't matter. High school romances never lasted anyway. Even if she was able to end up dating Tamaki, the two would have never made it past high school. Both their careers were demanding, neither of them would have been able to make it last. With Oomizuao by his side, however, the two could become Pro Heroes together.

At least, that's what Tsukiko continued to tell herself back to class.

Tinkering with the mask in her hands, Tsukiko zoned in on her work in an attempt to forget everything at lunch. Who needed romance when you could create hero gear anyway right?

So lost in her work, Tsukiko jumped when Bibimi suddenly tapped her shoulder.

"Did you even hear what I said?" she asked, a little frustrated.

"Uh, no sorry. Could you repeat it?" Tsukiko sheepishly smiled.

Heaving out a heavy sigh, Bibimi repeated, "How did it go? Did he give you an answer?"

"Ah, no, I haven't told him yet," Tsukiko simply responds, tone light and airy.

"What, why not?" Bibimi demands, putting her gadgets down.

"It just... wasn't the right time," Tuskiko shrugs.

"Tsukiko..." Bibimi pouted, "I know you love large romantic gestures, but you shouldn't let that get in your way!"

"I'm not," she laughed.

"Besides, he was busy. I can't help that he's so popular," she says, ignoring the weird look Bibimi was giving her when a loud snap suddenly caught both of the girls' attention.

Looking down, Tsukiko felt her heart drop at the sight in front of her.

"Shinsou's mask! My voice plates!" Tsukiko practically screeched, frantically examining the damage.

"How did that even happen?" Bibimi whispered.

Merely grumbling in response, Tsukiko was teary-eyed and horrified.

Cleaning up her things as the final bell rang, Bibimi turned to face her friend before leaving.

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay, I don't mind," she asks Tsukiko once more.

"Yeah, it's going to take a while and I don't want to hold you back," Tsukiko smiled wearily, glad that she had such good friends.

"Mh... Alright... You know where I'll be if you need me," Bibimi mumbles before walking out of the studio doors.

Turning back to the broken mask that lay on the table, Tsukiko inwardly sighed as she worked far past the last stragglers.

Before she even knew it, warm, orange rays of light had enveloped her lone figure. Stretching out her back, Tsukiko's gaze mindlessly wandered to the large windows above her.

It was beautiful, the warm dusk sky. It reminded her of a painting, the perfect backdrop to a romantic scene.

A frown pulled at the corner of her lips as her eyes moved to the bag next to her. Pulling out the box, she mindlessly rubbed small shapes with her thumb as she leaned her head on her hand.

"What a romantic sky," she mumbled, her voice soft in the large empty room.

"It must have been beautiful," she sighed, conflicting feelings swarming inside her mind.

Oomizuao was a good girl. Being kind, graceful, brave, Tsukiko was sure that Tamaki would be happy with her, and yet, she couldn't help the ugly feeling that clung to her heart. It made her mad, disgusted even that Oomizuao got him before she did.

But these feelings only grew uglier as they continued to stir. She didn't want to feel that way, Tamaki wasn't an object! Yet the thought of him with someone else caused her to feel so many things; she wasn't sure what to do.

Lost in her melancholy, the sound of the studio doors opening caused an anxiety-inducing panic to race though Tsukiko's veins.

Entering the dimly lit room, Power Loader couldn't help but quirk a brow at the girl who was still working.

"Shimizu, what are you still doing here?" he asked, approaching her.

"Oh, Power Loader sir...! I... accidentally broke my mask, so I stayed back to fix it," she laughed, her chipper facade becoming more difficult to keep up.

"Is that so..." he murmured, examining her work.

"I'm closing up the studios now, so you should get going. I'm sure there are other things you can be doing, you can finish up tomorrow," Power Loader simply states, beginning to lock up.

"Wait! I can close everything up after I'm done, can I just stay a little longer?" Tsukiko begged, shocking both herself and the man in front of her.

There was a moment of silence before he turned to her, concern laced in his voice, "Shimizu, is everything alright?"

"Of course!" she lied, only to then realize just how fake it sounded.

"Are you sure? ... You've been spacing out all day," he hesitantly says.

"Mhm!" she nodded, her gaze unable to look at him directly.

A handkerchief was then suddenly held out in front of her face. Taking it with wide eyes, Tsukiko looked up only to find Power Loader taking a seat next to her.

"You're crying," he simply says.

Bringing a hand up to her cheeks, Tsukiko didn't even realize the tears that were beginning to slip down her face.

"I'm sorry, I don't know why I started crying," Tsukiko laughed, wiping her tears away.

"Don't apologize, it's alright."

Despite this, Tsukiko wasn't convinced.

"If you don't mind this old man praying, what's been on your mind?" he asked, voice soft and comforting.

"It's... childish..." Tsukiko softly mumbles.

"Even so, last I checked, you are a child," he smiles, chuckling at her offended face.

"Sir, you know I'm 18 right?" she pouted, only making him laugh.

"18, 30, what difference does it make to me? You all are still children in my eyes," he smiles.

"You make it sound like you're so old," Tsukiko chuckled. It felt good like it was the first time she had smiled in a long time.

"That might be so, but I think my old age might be able to help you with whatever seems to have racked your mind,"

Chewing at the corner of her lips, Tsukiko debated with herself before pushing the words out, "It's... about someone I like. I like them a lot but..."

"I see, so this is what it's about," Power Loader hums, a hand to his chin.

"See, it's dumb-"

"No, it's not," he cuts her off.

"Whether others understand them or not, feelings of love or admiration are important. They're what shape who we become," he explains, a stern air surrounding him.

Nodding at her to continue, Tsukiko swallows the lump in her throat.

"I guess... I-I'm just upset that... that someone got to him before I did-god that sounds so selfish..." she trails off.

"I just... I dunno..." sighing, Tsukiko unconsciously wraps an arm around herself.

"I feel bad. I'm angry at Mushi for confessing to Amajiki first, but when I saw her give him that letter at lunch today I-...! I knew I didn't stand a chance..." she says in defeat.

"So I pushed him towards her and left without saying anything. I didn't even give him the gift I got..."

There was a moment of silence before Power Loader piped up.

"Do you hate her?"

"What?!"

"Do you hate her for confessing first?" he repeated.

"No-never!" Tsukiko blurted.

"Mushi's never been anything but kind to everyone she meets, I could never hate her for something like this...! I feel horrible for feeling like this, and being mad at her when she did nothing wrong!" she confessed.

"I mean, she's strong, cute, and brave. She made it into the Hero Course unlike me... and here I am, feeling sorry for myself while she's doing something..." she trailed off.

Tsukiko was quiet again. Lost in the maze that was her mind.

"You know... I first saw him at the Sports festival during my first year here. He was such a nervous wreck that I thought he might have passed out," she laughed, the melancholy dripping from her words, "But he didn't..."

"He didn't win first place-he didn't even get top five but... that's not what drew me to him. When I saw him, I couldn't help but admire how despite his obvious fears, he didn't turn back. Instead, he faced his fears and fought threw it. It was inspiring," Tsukiko smiled softly at the memory.

"I was so nervous and excited when Negire introduced us last year. It was like when I'm on stage, but I'm not just performing a show, I'm the lead and my mother was able to make it. She was in the crowd and I wanted so badly to impress her."

"But... despite all of this time, I haven't done anything. I keep dropping hints and-maybe I'm the one who wasn't picking them up...?" she asked herself.

Power Loader was quiet, taking in everything she had said. His silence made Tsukiko feel unnerved. As if she had just asked an obvious question and was now waiting for the sarcastic response.

"There's something I want to share with you Shimizu," Power Loader finally says.

"Not many people know this about me, but I'm what some would call a romantic," he declares, earning a confused look before continuing.

"There was this man I met back in my late 20s. He was bold and beautiful, strong-willed but a little hot-headed at times. Very adamant about showing up on time. The exact opposite of who I was."

Rubbing his thumb, Power Loader softly says, "He was my best friend, and I was madly in love with him. Thinking back, I'd even say that I idolized him."

"I thought my feelings were pretty obvious. I went out of my way for him, even leaving my comfort zone just to try and impress him. No matter what I did, however, he just seemed out of reach."

"Shimizu, do you know why I'm telling you this story?" Power Loader suddenly asked.

"... Because... some things just aren't meant to be?" she mumbles, holding herself closer.

Looking up at the sound of his laughter, Tsukiko couldn't help but feel her eyes narrow at him.

"No, it's because he was a stupidly dense idiot," he confessed, catching Tsukiko off guard.

"Even after I told him that he was the most important person in the world to me, he still didn't understand what I meant. It wasn't until I straight up told him that I was in love with him that everything clicked in his head," he laughed at the memory, a tired smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

"Sometimes, playing this whole chasing game can work just fine; flirting with each other, romantic outings, and poetic words do it for some people. But... he taught me something that day; sometimes, the simplest approach is the most effective. Sometimes, just holding someone's hand means more than any grand gesture."

With wide eyes, Tsukiko stared at Power Loader in astonishment as the gears in her head turned. His words sinking into every crevice of her mind.

Their conversation was suddenly interrupted when the sound of the studio doors opened, however. A very nervous Tamaki walked in with a purple bag close to his chest. The streams of light that slipped in past him, created a halo that surrounded his form.

"U-Um... I-I wasn't sure i-if anyone would be h-here, b-but I saw the lights and..." he trailed off, eyes daring to Tsukiko before moving back to the ground.

"Well, we're technically closed for the night, but Tsukiko's closing up for me, so she can help you with whatever you need," Power Loader says standing up.

"W-Wait, what!?" Tsukiko stammers, head snapping back to the older man.

Chuckling, he gives her a knowing smile, "My husband and I have plans tonight. It's nothing special, just dinner, but he'd be upset if I'm late."

Tossing her the keys, he shouts on his way out, "After you lock up, just give them to Snipe. I'll pick them up later."

Giving Tamaki a curt nod at the doors, Power Loader was gone, leaving the two teens alone in the quiet studio.

Shifting in her seat, Tsukiko gives Tamaki a small smile before beckoning him over. Taking a deep breath, she steals her nerves as he approaches, knowing what Power Loader was trying to do.

"So," she starts, "what do you need me to fix?"

"Uh, well. My bag for my hero costume... broke..." he mumbles, handing her it to her.

"Ah, okay, this is an easy fix. If you want, I can deliver it to you after I'm done. I'm sure you're busy," Tsukiko says while turning around, more of a statement than anything else.

"A-Actually-!" Tamaki blurted, surprising himself more than Tsukiko.

"U-Um...!" he stuttered under her gaze.

"I-If it won't take long... C-Could I wait here-I-I-I mean if you're okay with that, i-it might be we-weird with me watching over your shoulder a-a-a-and I wouldn't-"

"I don't mind," Tsukiko smiles, interrupting Tamaki's ramble.

"O-Okay, thanks..." he murmurs in embarrassment, plopping down next to her.

Despite the events earlier that day, Tsukiko couldn't help the fluttering in her stomach as she worked, trying hard not to blush at the boy's close proximity. From the corner of her eye, she could see his stare engrossed with her fingers, watching them mend the purple fabric. The soft light from above shone above them, leaving soft shadows in its wake.

"So... How was your day?" Tsukiko asked, trying to distract herself from her pounding heart.

"I-It was... alright," he mumbled, eyes darting away.

Silence fell over them again, leaving an awkward tension in the air.

"So... how did it go?" Tsukiko asked, unable to help but wonder.

"H-How did what go?" Tamaki blinked confused.

"You know, the confession... with Mushi..." she trailed off.

"Oh... th-that..." Tamaki paused, rubbing the back of his neck, "She... took it well..."

Quirking a brow, Tamaki only grew more nervous under Tsukiko's stare, ushering him to elaborate.

"I-I-I-It's ju-just, you know...! I-I do-do-don't really kn-know her a-a-and-"

"You turned her down?" she interrupted with wide eyes.

Sinking his head low, Tamaki sheepishly nodded, hiding behind his bangs.

"I-I know you s-said that we'd be good together but..." he paused for a second, taking a deep breath before looking her in the eyes, "There's someone else who already has my heart."

Stunned by his words, Tsukiko was left speechless. Whoever this person might be, Tsukiko couldn't help but want to be them. Behind the fear, Tamaki's eyes were honest and sincere, determined even; just like when he's SunEater saving lives, or when she first saw him. The admiration behind them was evident, passionate even.

Turning away and coughing lightly, Tsukiko can't help the heat from creeping up her face. She wasn't used to Tamaki staring at her like that. It was strange, for a moment, Tsukiko thought it looked as if he meant her. Surely if that were true, he would have confessed right?

Power Loader's conversation with her suddenly came flooding back to her mind at the thought. Shooting Tamaki a glance, he had turned his attention back to watching her work. Unsure if it was from her stress or maybe the lights were playing tricks on her eyes, but Tsukiko could have sworn that his cheeks were flushed a pale shade of pink.

Looking up, Tamaki gave her a shy smile, only causing her to blush more. Turning her eyes to her work, Tuskiko's heart pounded loudly in her ears at the sound of his soft laugh.

Tying up the last stitch, Tsukiko smoothed out the fabric before roughly tugging it, ensuring it was secure. Holding it up, she couldn't help the pride that always overfilled her whenever she finished something. Handing the bag back to the man next to her, Tsukiko couldn't help the bright smile that bloomed on her lips.

"It should hold up now. If you need something patched up again, don't be afraid to ask me."

Nodding, Tamaki smiled at her, thanking her for the help.

At the sight of his smile, Tsukiko was left enamored by it again. Scratching the back of her head, she laughed off the flutters in her stomach, doing her best to ignore Power Loader's voice echoing in her head.

Standing up, Tamaki seemed to linger for a second before bidding Tsukiko a good night. At the sight of his back getting farther and farther away, an overwhelming feeling suddenly washed over the girl.

Jumping to her feet, Tsukiko reached for Tamaki's wrist while shouting," Wait!"

Wide eyes stared back at each other in surprise. It felt like time had stopped before Tsukiko let go of him, rubbing the side of her arm.

"S-Sorry... I-I just..." she stammered, mind racing to think up some excuse.

Shoulders relaxing, Tamaki shook his head, "I-It's alright. Y-You just startled me a little."

Glancing up at him under batted lashes, Tsukiko could feel herself stop breathing. He was looking at her with that stare again. Her knees suddenly felt weak and she felt almost queasy. It was like staring at the sun, her face was so warm. Turning around to hide her red face, Tsukiko grabbed her bag and pulled out her gift.

Clearing her parched throat Tsukiko said, "I-uh... I wasn't able to give this to you at lunch..."

Turning to face him, a big, embarrassed smile pulled at her lips as she laughed, "Sorry about that Amajiki. I hope you enjoy it, it's a book on different butterfly species. Happy Valentine's Day!"

It was now Tamaki's turn to blush as he took the box with gentle hands. Holding it close, a sudden rush of confidence washed over him. Taking a step forward, a hand reached out to grab Tsukiko's hand.

Blushing furiously, he softly brought her knuckles up to his lips.

"Thank you..." he breathlessly whispered against her skin.

"O-Oh! Um... I-It was nothing...!" she stammered, her heart skipping a beat.

"Um... A-Amajiki... There's something I need to tell you..." Shimizu flushed.

"Me too," he confessed, taking a step closer.

Tamaki had no idea where this confidence came from, but he wasn't going to wast it.

"Shimizu, w-will you be my Valen-"

BAM!

Slamming the Studio doors open, a curvy, pale blue jellyfish girl announced, "Fuwa~ I made it~"

Taking a second to absorb what she was looking at, she found Tsukiko and Tamaki awkwardly fidgeting a few feet away from each other.

"Fuwaaa? Why are you two so red?" she asked, innocently tilting her head to the side as Mirio and Negire came running after her.

"Ugh! She made it before we could stop her!" Negire groaned, collapsing by the door next to Mirio.

Clearing her throat, Tsukiko fails to push the red in her face down as she tries not to glare at the three in front of her.

"Natsuki, I'm happy you decided to visit me, but what are you doing here?" she asked, unconsciously baring her sharp teeth.

Snapping out of her daze, Natsuki happily drifted over to the upset girl, engulfing her in a hug.

"Fuwa~ Your big sis came to visit! I got you a present too," she chimes, pulling out a freshly caught fish.

"Fuwa~ I caught it today in the cove!" she chipped, proud of herself.

Taking a deep breath, Tsukiko couldn't stay mad at the airheaded girl as she sighed. Thanking her for the gift, she listened to Natsuki ramble about her adventure catching the fish when out of the corner of her eye, she watched Mirio and Negire approach Tamaki.

"Fuwa~ Tsuki-Tsuki! Do you wanna know what happened next?" Natsuki eagerly asked, holding the fish close and snapping Tsukiko's attention back to the story.

"Mhm, what happened?" she asked, eyes slowly drifting back to the trio as her sister continued to ramble.

"Did you at least tell her?" Mirio softly asked a flustered Tamaki, only for the boy to grimly shake his head.

As the two other heroes tried their best to reassure him, his eyes locked with Tsukiko's, causing an awkward smile to tug at the corner of his lips.

After closing up the studio, the group made their way to Snipes office to return the keys. Hanging back behind the rest of the group, Tsukiko and Tamaki watched as Natsuki told grand tales of her adventures in the ocean. Getting distracted every so often by random things and floating off, causing Mirio and Negire to chase her down and drag her back.

Softly laughing as Natsuki chased circles around the other two, somehow getting herself stuck in a tree, Tamaki jumped at the sudden hand that grabbed his. Turning to his left, Tsukiko gave him a large, toothy grin, her cheeks flushed. Softly smiling back, his fingers intertwined with hers.

"Hey, Amajiki?"

"Yes, Shimizu?"

"I like you, like, a lot."

"I-I... like you too."

#fanfic #fanfiction #bnha #bnha oc #tamaki amakiji #Tamaki amajiki/oc #self indulgent fic #happy belated valentine's day #fluff

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tywriteskpop · 7 years ago

Text

Awakening (SB Sequel Mark Tuan)-Chapter 3

Genre: Fluff, Angst Warnings: Some language, this one’s a doozy

Mark was at a loss for words as he stared blankly at his brother. He didn’t understand what was going on. Did Jinyoung remember him, or was his memory really gone? Thoughts were circling around Mark’s head, and he couldn’t land on a single one to focus on. He couldn’t voice what he wanted to say at that point. He wasn’t sure what to say to Jinyoung.

“I waited for this day,” Jinyoung said, breaking the tense silence. “For a long time, I wanted us to come face to face and speak to one another. Like we used to.”

Mark swallowed and stepped forward a bit, just until he was standing in front of you. His stance was almost protective, as if he was wary of Jinyoung’s true intentions. With shaking eyes, he lifted his gaze to fully meet Jinyoung’s. “You were being controlled before, right?” he asked nervously.

Jinyoung’s expression became troubled, and he forced himself to keep eye contact with Mark. He gave a small nod. “Yes.”

“And now?” Mark rushed to ask. “Are you…back to normal?”

“You mean, am I myself?”

You looked between the brothers, unsure about your presence there. You felt as if you were intruding on them. But just as you made the decision to leave them to themselves, Mark reached behind to grab your hand. You were startled for a split second, but you grasped his hand in return.

Mark sighed inwardly when he felt your hand squeeze his in comfort. He needed you with him, or he was afraid he wouldn’t have the courage to stand in front of Jinyoung like this.

“Your…friend,” you said unsurely. When you drew Jinyoung’s attention, you saw no malice in his eyes like you thought you would. So you continued. “He said we purified you, stay of killing you.”

You mentally winced, bracing yourself for the worse when you realized how harsh your comment sounded out loud. Though unintentional, you feared your choice of words may have angered the boy.

But you only found a gentle, solemn look as he gestured you both to the empty benches under the gazebo’s roof. “Perhaps you’ll be more comfortable sitting down.”

You looked at Mark, waiting for his decision. After a short moment of hesitation, Mark pulled you with him to go sit on one of the benches. Jinyoung sat on a separate bench, putting distance between you. You felt more at ease and found yourself thankful at his consideration. You fully believed there was no more evil inside Jinyoung’s soul, and you could only assume it was your pure magic’s doing that allowed you to have that much faith in him already. But you were still on edge, bracing yourself for any moment of an attack, whether it be from Jinyoung or someone else.

Mark looked around the area as a sense of familiarity took over him. “This place,” he said, his eyes settling on the bush wall of roses.

“You recognize it?” Jinyoung asked, almost hopefully. “This is my first time being here. I’ve found a sense of comfort from being here. You yourself have been here before, brother, yet still unborn.”

“What is this place?” you asked. “Is it of importance?”

“To us, it’s a safe haven. We are standing on the old land of our mother’s former kingdom. This was her garden, preserved by generations of a family line that swore loyalty to Her Highness.”

Mark stood up and looked around at the flower beds. Roses of many color contrasted against the green leaves of the bushes. He wandered over to the nearest rose wall and spotted a plaque with an engraving on it.

Dedicated to Her Highness, Queen Briar Rose

“She was a fair ruler, and loving woman,” Jinyoung continued. You noticed his eyes had glazed over, as if he was lost in a forlorn memory. “Her people had the upmost respect for her.” He cleared his throat and nodded towards the direction you came from. “Years ago this facility was built to help care for the weak minded. Mother had always believed in helping those less fortunate. I suppose this was their way of preserving her memory.”

“Be strong for those who lack the strength they need,” Mark said. He turned back around and met Jinyoung’s gaze.

His brother nodded. “That is what she taught us as we were growing. Unfortunately for us, that all changed once the dagger came into my possession.”

“The dagger,” Mark repeated. “They said it was the only way to defeat the person behind everything. This shadow or whatever.”

Jinyoung nodded. “Before it was used as a tool to…” He swallowed uncomfortably. “To kill you. It fed my soul with darkness with each second I held onto it. But now that you poured your pure magic into it, it is a weapon that can kill him. He is too powerful otherwise. The only way is to kill the shadows from the inside out. And that is why he is looking to end my life, because I hold the only way to end his.”

“And how exactly did you come into possession of this dagger?” you asked.

“It was no more than a day after Mark had left home when I found the blade sitting nicely on my bed. When I had asked, I was told that he had left it as a goodbye gift.”

Mark’s eyes widened in shock. “That’s a lie!” he almost shouted. His response was so immediate after Jinyoung’s confession that it made you jump and swing your gaze to him.

“You remember it?” Jinyoung asked.

Mark closed his eyes and thought back to his fight with Jinyoung at the old castle.

“Now you see. You see what you did to me. Betraying me. Leaving me alone, pretending I didn’t exist. Ignoring me in favor of your precious beloved and those imbeciles.”

“I…I was sent away.”

Mark opened his eyes again and sent his brother a wary glance.

Jinyoung’s sharp gaze caught the hidden message behind Mark’s eyes. “You remembered something.”

Mark sighed and went back to sit next to you. He folded his hands in front of his face and his leg bounced nervously in place. “When you showed me those memories before,” he began. “I remembered something else. Something you didn’t know about.”

“My love, what is it?” you asked, grabbing his arm gently. “What did you remember?”

“After she died,” he continued, swallowing guiltily, “I was sent away. I had no choice but to travel to Y/N’s kingdom in order to marry her. It was our mother’s wish. But it was forced on me earlier than planned.”

“Earlier than planned?” Jinyoung repeated.

“You didn’t know?” You gave Jinyoung a questioning stare.

“No. But I knew you were always meant to marry each other,” Jinyoung said. “Though rare, pure magic is most common in those with royal bloodline. Only those with such magic are allowed to rule. I was meant to rule my kingdom, and Y/N was meant to rule hers with you by her side.” He looked at you. “That is why your brothers had no claim to the throne, for they did not possess pure magic. It was the best way to keep a fair rule over all lands.”

You furrowed your brows in confusion. “But I did not even know of my magic until…that night. How did they know I would take rule?”

“Your father was born with pure magic. With your brothers having shown no sign of it, and you seemingly having no magic, it’s possible they assumed you were what they call a late bloomer. As it were.”

“Is that why you and Y/N were targeted by this guy?” Mark asked.

“He wanted my pure magic, so he tried to use me. But the shadows consumed me and his plan backfired. So he had me set my sights on Y/N, this time trying to take it by force. And now he’s done playing games and simply wants to kill us.”

“It’s been nearly a full year since our last meeting,” you pointed out. “How has he not found you if you are so bold as to be here, out in the open?”

“Forgive me if I come off as rude, my lady, but you severely underestimate this mastermind. For he has known all along where I hide.”

You and Mark both jumped at the sudden news. “Are you serious?” Mark asked. “Then that means he can come kill all of us whenever he wants to!”

Jinyoung held his hands out, trying to coax the both of you back to a calm state. “You have nothing to fear here, for this land is protected.” He stood up and went to stand beside his brother, who to your surprise made no move to avoid him. Reaching out his hand, Jinyoung brushed the soft petals of a rose between his fingers.

You watched in awe as small speckles of aura flitted up from the flower, as if like pollen. “Pure magic.”

“Queen Briar was pure of heart. Only those with a pure soul can obtain pure magic from birth.” Jinyoung sent you a knowing glance. “A rarity as it was, we were born with an immense amount of power if nurtured and used right. Our mother was one of the most renowned pure magic users across three kingdoms. She was strong enough to place a protective magic on this land before she left. Evil cannot pass through the invisible barrier surrounding the facility and the garden. We are safe here, for even the shadow cannot reach us.”

“And you?” Mark examined Jinyoung from head to toe. “What happened to your shadow magic?”

Jinyoung held out his hand and concentrated on his palm, feeling a warm sensation run through his arm. A small ball of white light formed, levitating over his hand for a moment before diminishing with a soft whisper. “When I fell to the darkness, my pure self was locked away deep inside my soul. When you purified me, I needed time to recover myself. The moment I had awoken after you defeated me, you had already gone. I felt myself released from the clutches of the shadow, but I could not risk Jaebum and Yugyeom finding me. So I came here in order to safely build up my lost pure magic. Once I again had the power I had lost, I knew it was time I reached out to you.”

“And your friends cannot reach you here,” you concluded. “They are still controlled by the shadows.”

Jinyoung’s expression turned grim with guilt. “Yes. I fear for them. Should they fall completely under the shadows like I once did, it won’t matter where their loyalties lie. Their will is lost and in the hands of the mastermind.”

“And you know who he is,” Mark said. He stood up and face Jinyoung eye to eye. “You’ve seen his face.”

“Yes,” his brother confirmed. His gaze back at Mark was just as steady. “But you’ve had your suspicions, haven’t you, brother? You know who he is.”

Mark hesitated before nodding a little, and your head tilted in confusion and curiosity. “I have a hunch,” he said. He turned to you and gestured for you to follow him. “We need to get back to the others.”

Mark was already down the steps and on the lawn, heading back to the entrance, by the time you stood up. You were about to run to catch up to him, but he stopped in his tracks when he heard Jinyoung call for him.

“Mark, wait!”

Your prince didn’t turn around yet, and you remained silent. You felt more intrusive than before now, but there wasn’t any way for you to get past the boys unnoticed. So you remained where you were, waiting.

Jinyoung walked closer to Mark, stopping at the steps of the gazebo. He cleared his throat nervously before he started speaking again. “I know there’s nothing I can do to remedy what has happened. There’s no way to turn back time and take every evil I’ve committed. I’ve put you through hell. I’ve destroyed the lives of so many people.” You could hear Jinyoung’s voice become laced with tears as it cracked midway through his speech. “But I need you to know that I never wanted any of this happen. I wasn’t strong enough, I know that. I let it happen, I let myself be manipulated. I can feel the guilt and sorrow eating away at me. I just ask that you let me help you. Even if this may be the last time you associate yourself with me.”

As Jinyoung finished, you felt your heart break for him. Mark’s shoulders sagged and he exhaled sharply. You heard his voice break as he whispered, “None of this is your fault.” Mark finally turned around and you saw his eyes had watered up just like his brother’s. He marched up to his younger brother and grabbed his shoulders firmly. “Don’t blame yourself. If you do, he wins. The fault is his.”

Jinyoung inhaled deeply and tried to prevent the tears from falling down his cheeks. One slipped past and fell down his face until it dripped onto the floor. Mark pulled him into a hug, wrapping his arms securely around his brother’s shoulders. You held back your own tears as you smiled softly at the brothers. Having been separated by cruel circumstances, they were now finally reunited.

After a moment of comforting each other, Mark pulled away from Jinyoung and wiped his eyes. He coughed and waited while Jinyoung wiped his face off as well.

“Now,” he said, his set tone of voice startling you and Jinyoung both. “Let’s go find the son of a bitch who separated us.”

Mark threw open the door to the apartment and rushed in. You and Jinyoung followed in behind him.

“Guys!” Mark called, rushing into the living room. “We have-”

Mark paused, and you came up behind him to see what stopped him. BamBam was leaning against the far wall with his arms folded. He glanced up and nodded a short greeting to you. He didn’t even react to seeing Jinyoung behind you. Yugyeom was pacing back and forth, seemingly not noticing your presences. And Youngjae sat on a chair, his head dropped into his hands in exhaustion. Jackson and Jaebum were nowhere to be found.

“What happened?” you asked. You rushed over to Youngjae and stood behind him, placing your hands on his shoulders gently.

“We lost Jaebum,” BamBam answered.

Youngjae reached up with one hand and grabbed yours, holding onto it tightly. “He sacrificed himself to save me. I’m not sure why, but now we don’t know if he’s dead or alive.”

“He’s alive!” Yugyeom shouted. He punched at the wall closest to him in a rage. Being the closest to him, BamBam did nothing to stop him.

Jinyoung brushed past his brother and went to Yugyeom. He grabbed his shoulder and turned him around, letting the younger boy see him. Having realized Jinyoung was there with him, Yugyeom relaxed his posture and tried to calm himself down.

“JB’s alive,” Jinyoung confirmed, glancing around at the others. “It’s hard to believe, I know. But I can still feel his life intact. He hasn’t been harmed.”

“How can you tell?” BamBam asked.

“I gave him his new life, merging him with a shadow. That’s the only way I know.”

BamBam looked at Mark. “So now that we found him, do we have a plan?”

“Working on it,” Mark replied. He looked around. “Where’s Jackson?”

“He was gone by the time we got back,” Youngjae said. “We haven’t seen him. And he’s not answering his phone.”

Mark cursed under his breath and ran a hand through his hair.

You sent him a worried look. “What do we do?”

Mark remained silent for a moment. He knew he needed to find Jackson. If he didn’t, things could go worse than they already were. “I’m going out to look for Jackson. The rest of you stay here.”

You ran up to him. “I’m coming with you.”

“No. No way. You’re staying here with the others. They can keep you safe.”

“And who’ll help keep you safe?” you shot back.

“Might I make a suggestion?” Jinyoung asked.

Jinyoung strolled through the ruin, casually observing the black smoke and reduced flames. Homes were in shambles, the earth singed by the fire that raged through the small village. So much damage from a natural fire caused by a mere storm. The young man felt conflicted in his feelings at the tragedy that struck the people here.

As he continued to make his way leisurely through the crinkling village, he was greeted with silence. After spending so many years alone, he was used to it. Until he was met with the labored sound of breathing.

“Don’t you dare give up.”

Jinyoung followed the roughened voice to its owner. He turned a corner and found two boys covered in ash and blood. One was hovering over the younger of the two, pressing on his chest desperately. The boy looked like he was near death.

“Would you like my help?” Jinyoung asked.

The eldest of the boys turned to him quickly. His face was dirty and wet with sweat, his eyes wide with panic and despair. “Who are you?” he demanded.

“I can save him,” Jinyoung continued. “I can save you both.” He thought back to his brother’s friend, the one who merged with Jinyoung’s shadow. It had healed him, and Jinyoung saw this as an opportunity to acquire his help. “All I ask in return is your loyalty.”

The boy hesitated, wary of Jinyoung’s request. But his friend released a pained gasp as he took in another breath.

“Your wounds will heal. Your life will be extended beyond normal years. And you will obtain power, magic that’ll be yours to control.” Jinyoung inwardly smirked when he saw the boy’s resolve diminishing. “Do you agree?”

The boy snapped his eyes shut and nodded silently. His only wish at that moment was for his friend to live.

You looked out at the semi-busy street while waiting for Mark to unlock the garage door. You heard a click and the loud sound of the shutter being lifted up. When you turned around, Mark was beckoning you to quickly get inside.

“Come on,” he said. “Before somebody notices.”

You sprinted into the garage, and Mark pulled down the shutter behind you. It was dark aside from the light coming from the far back of the garage. “Are you sure about this?” you asked warily.

“We’ll find out soon,” he sighed. “Jackson! You here?”

You both were met with silence. There was no sound or movement that indicated you in another’s company. “No one’s here.”

“Let’s not waste this chance then.”

Mark led you to the back of the room and into the main office. When you looked around, you noticed it was fairly messy. It looked as if someone had come through like a whirlwind and tried to wreck everything.

“What happened here?” you asked.

“Looks like someone is angry.” Mark went straight to the desk and started sifting through papers.

You knelt on the floor and looked through the documents that were strewn about. Nothing immediately stood out to you, nothing important. Until you found an envelope.

Following your gut feeling, you opened the envelope and took out its contents. They were photos. There were photos of your and Mark, your brothers, and Jinyoung. They were recent pictures, that you were sure of.

“Mark!” You stood up with the photos in your hand to show him.

But before you had the chance to, the door slammed shut behind you. You gasped and whirled around. But your sight was suddenly blinded by darkness when the lights shut off completely, leaving you both in a black void.

“Y/N!” Mark shouted for you, and you heard him shuffling around for you. “Screw this!”

A ball of light manifested in Mark’s palm and shot up to the ceiling, creating a dim light that illuminated the room. He froze when his eyes met your terrified ones. He swallowed nervously as his gaze moved to the shadow behind you. It had its arm wrapped tightly around your stomach, trapping your arms at your sides. Its other hand covered your mouth, its claw-like fingers pressing into your cheeks. The photos you had found had fallen to the floor beside you.

Mark made no move to rescue you, afraid that the shadow would hurt you if he did. Instead, he looked around the room for any sight of the mastermind. “Alright,” he said, keeping his voice strong. “You have us. What next?”

A sinister laugh echoed through your ears, but you could not find the source.

“That depends on you, Your Highness.”

“Y/N, look at me.” You drew your frantic gaze back to Mark. “Go back. Get back to Jinyoung and your brothers.”

You would have argued with him. But not only did the shadowy hand preventing you from speaking stop you, the look on your prince’s face told you that this was what he wanted. So, with a tear rolling down your face, you closed your eyes and released the magic you casted.

Mark watched as your form faded away, leaving the shadow to hold nothing. With you out of harm’s way, he felt his fear dissipate slightly. “Did you really think I’d let her come here?”

“An astral projection. Clever.”

Shadows began forming all around the boy, surrounding him. He formed a sword from his pure magic, bracing himself to fight.

“But you are real.”

As Mark got ready to swing his blade, he paused. He heard footsteps, calmly walking towards him. Shadows didn’t make materialized noise. Whoever this was, the person was here in the flesh. He held his sword in front of him, waiting for the mysterious person to show his face.

The shadows parted to make way for the newcomer, and Mark was shocked by who he saw. The shadows closest to Mark closed in on him, swallowing him in a mesh of blackness. Shaken by his earlier surprise, he was unprepared, and his blade vanished.

Before Mark completely succumbed to the darkness, he couldn’t help but wonder why Jackson’s eyes were so dark.

Jinyoung sat at your side as your body continued to sleep comfortably on the couch. He was to make sure nothing happened to your while your mind was with your astral body. The boy looked up and found that Yugyeom was gazing out of the large window on the far wall. He felt his heart ache for his friends, guilt washing over him for not being there for them.

“I still don’t know how I feel about trusting you,” Youngjae said, drawing Jinyoung’s attention to him. “But whatever talk you had with Mark and Y/N convinced them to trust you. And I trust them. I hope this plan of yours doesn’t put my sister in danger.”

Jinyoung nodded. “She’ll be able to release her magic should anything go wrong, and her mind will return to her body. If anything, Mark is the one I worry for the most.”

“Why didn’t he use his astral?” BamBam asked. “He used to do it all the time.”

Youngjae shook his head in disagreement. “He still hasn’t regained his memories. He can only do so much with what he has learned in the last year. Until he recovers his former life, he’s no better at using his magic than Y/N is.”

“Which could cause a handicap for us,” Jinyoung added. “And with Jaebum in the hands of the shadows, we’re already at a disadvantage. Not to mention your brother is missing.”

“Do you think he went looking for this guy?” BamBam suggested.

“Who knows?” Youngjae said solemnly. “I wish he would’ve told us where he was going. He’s been acting strange lately.”

Jinyoung listened to the brothers talk, trying to forget about the worrying pull at his stomach. He became alert suddenly when your breath hitched. He looked over you, searching for any sign of sustained injury from your astral. But despite him not finding a single scratch on you, your breathing hastened.

“What’s wrong with her?” BamBam demanded.

Youngjae moved closer to you, grasping your shoulders gently as if trying to provide you comfort.

“Something’s not right,” Jinyoung said. He stood up and looked at Yugyeom, who had turned around and was watching the scene silently. Jinyoung’s uneasy feeling increased, sending his stomach into turmoil. It was merely a tiny speck at first, but the black speck that Jinyoung spotted outside the window grew bigger. It was coming closer…

And closer…

Until it was suddenly right outside the window.

“Yugyeom!”

Jinyoung’s frantic call caused the younger boy to turn around swiftly. Only he was too late to avoid the mass of shadows that broke through the window. They boys covered themselves, Youngjae throwing his body over yours to protect you from the flying glass shards of the shattered pane.

The shadows enclosed around the raven, trapping him as he fought uselessly against them. Yugyeom struggled to pull away from the mass, but they kept drawing him in.

“Shit!” BamBam ran around Jinyoung and tried to get to the raven. He shot a ball of fire at the shadow, creating an opening for Yugyeom to reach his arm out. BamBam stretched his arm out to grab the younger’s.

But the shadow mass was quick, and it fled with Yugyeom in its grasp. As it escaped through the opening in the broken window, it swallowed the raven entirely, allowing no escape for him. Jinyoung and BamBam ran to the window, watching helplessly as the mass disappeared in the distance.

You gasped as you sat up, panting heavily. You felt a soreness in your forehead, but you were too panicked to pay attention to it.

“Y/N!” Youngjae sat beside you, holding you up. “What happened?”

“What happened to Mark?” Jinyoung asked.

You felt your eyes water, but held back your tears. “He has him,” you breathed out. “He was taken by the Shadow.”

Jinyoung felt a heavy sense of dread fall into the pit of his stomach as he swallowed nervously. It was then he knew for sure what the mastermind was going to do. “We have to assume that your brother has been taken as well,” he voiced softly.

You all directed your gazes to him. “What are you talking about?” you asked wearily. You felt exhausted, and you weren’t sure if it was because of the day’s events or your use of magic. But you too tired to stop your brother when he grabbed the collar of Jinyoung’s shirt.

“What the hell are you saying?” BamBam demanded. “You knew this was going to happen? Your friends are missing!”

Jinyoung looked BamBam in the eye. “I know. And if I’m right to assume they were specifically targeted, then we must take in the possibility that Jackson was also taken.”

“He’s targeting the ravens,” Youngjae realized. “But for what?”

A sick feeling washed over you. “He wants to control them.”

Jinyoung nodded, and BamBam let go of him. “And now the Shadow has my brother as well,” he continued. “I’m afraid…that Mark’s time in the mastermind’s captivity will not be pleasant.”

He felt cold and stiff. His arms were sore, his legs ached, and he found it hard to breathe.

Mark blearily opened his eyes, his sight blurry for a moment. He saw a figure in front of him, standing there motionlessly. Mark blinked a few times to rid himself of the blurriness.

“Jackson,” he exhaled, finally recognizing the man in front of him.

Jackson looked down at Mark with a blank stare, his eyes filled with pitch black. The raven didn’t move, didn’t react. Mark couldn’t understand.

The soreness he felt before increased, and Mark winced. He looked up and found that his wrists were locked in shackles that hung from the ceiling. He sighed tiredly, realizing why he felt stiff. Kneeling on the hard ground with his arms raised by old chains; he must have been in this position for hours.

“Jackson,” he groaned, his voice scratched. “What are you doing?”

“He can’t hear you, Your Highness.”

A hand came to pat Jackson’s shoulder lightly. The mysterious person walked into the dim light that the wall torches provided. Mark recognized him.

“It’s been a long time, Your Highness,” the man said.

“The queen’s advisor,” Mark spat.

The man chuckled. “So you knew it was me all along.”

“I had a hunch,” Mark admitted. “But don’t you think you show your real face now?”

A frown appeared on the man’s face before he chuckled once more. “You’re a clever one, Prince Mark.” His face blurred with black particles for a moment before his new appearance was revealed.

Mark glared at the man with disdain. “Maybe you should stop underestimating me then, Park.”

#got7 #got7 scenarios #mark tuan #got7 mark #park jinyoung #got7 jinyoung #kpop fanfiction #kpop fluff #kpop angst #awakening #mark tuan scenarios

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volumes2lo-gan · 7 years ago

Note

Hey so, I've been having a bad time this month because people keep pointing out how bad I am with emotions. So, could you possibly do the side's teasing but then comforting Logan because he doesn't understand emotions, like a hurt/comfort thingy?

I’m sorry to hear about that, I hope that this story helps! I’m not sure where I got the idea for this, but I just kind of rolled with it. If you need any more feel-good fics, don’t be afraid to drop by again! Sending love and good vibes your way~

Puppy Love

Fandom: Sanders SidesPairings: platonic Analogical near the endWarnings: negative self-talk, panic attack

Summary: Logan has emotions, he’s just not very good at expressing them. It doesn’t help that the others often see him as some kind of robot, but he can’t always afford to indulge in emotions when it’s his job to be the logical one. And maybe throwing a dog into the mix wasn’t the best idea.

Tagged: @existental-crises @jordisama @here-to-vent @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @novagalaxy4real @thomas-must-get-to-sleep @emo-space-trash @evanisonfire @lollingtothemax @all-the-fand0mz

“I love him so much!” Patton squealed, ruffling the speckled dog’s ears around in delight. The dog gave a happy bark before licking Patton’s nose. “Awww!! Kisses!” Roman bent down to meet the dog at eye-level.

“Who’s a good prince?” He cooed.

“Well it sure ain’t you,” Virgil quipped, crouching down to pet their new furry friend. Roman scoffed, offended.

“I beg your pardon?”

Virgil shrugged. “He’s obviously an edgelord, check out these spots around his eyes. He’s already trying out my style.” He laughed softly as the dog turned to face him, butting his head into Virgil’s arm until he got a satisfactory amount of pets.

Logan was still standing by the stairs, taking in the situation. Thomas had brought home a dog. Or rather Joan had found a dog and Thomas had convinced them that he could take care of it until it was able to get a proper home. Logan had been running numbers for the last two hours and he wasn’t sure how Thomas would be able to accommodate such a pet on such short notice. However, the others didn’t seem bothered by this, since they’d been preoccupied with cooing over the animal since it had arrived. Thomas had headed upstairs to work on a project, but had entrusted the Sides to watch over his new pet until he was finished.

How could they be so calm in a situation like this? There was a huge variable being thrown into their regular routine and Logan seemed to be the only one worried about the predicament. He stepped forward and cleared his throat, causing the others to look up at him. The dog barked softly in anticipation.

“I know that this is all… exciting,” he said carefully, “but we can’t afford to let Thomas be so reckless. We can’t possibly keep this dog with the current available resources we have.”

Patton jumped to his feet with a gasp. “Logan! I’m surprised at you. Can’t you see how happy he is here? He needs a good home and who’s better with animals than us?” Logan rolled his eyes and fixed his glasses.

“A shelter perhaps? We are not properly equipped to care for this pet. Surely you understand that, Patton?” He could tell he was losing this battle when Roman stood up, protectively putting himself between Logan and the dog.

“After all this poor dog has been through!? Nay, we’re not going to throw him out of another home, so long as I live and breathe!” He held his arms out dramatically as though the dog didn’t just barely reach the back of his knees.

“That isn’t the logical option here, Roman,” he chided, looking to Virgil for help. Virgil just turned his attention back to the dog, suddenly more interested in connecting the dots on the animal’s fur than listening to the conversation. Patton put his hands on his hips and joined Roman in front of the dog.

“We can’t! I love him!” He said, glancing down at the speckled dog adoringly.

“I, too, love and appreciate him. I will lay down my life for him.” Roman added, not lacking in any of his usual drama.

Logan was losing patience. Of course there were studies showing the benefits of having a pet for emotional support, but they were fine as they were. Patton was more than capable of handling Thomas’ emotional support systems and they were all there in case he ever needed an extra hand with things. How could they feel so attached to this animal after only knowing it for a few hours? It didn’t make any sense. But right now it was two against one. If he could get Virgil to side with him, then they’d at least have a decent grounds for debate on the matter.

“Virgil?” Logan asked hopefully. The Anxious Side stopped tracing on the dog’s fur to stare Logan dead in the eye.

“If anything were to happen to this dog, I’d kill everyone in this room and then myself.”

That was it. That’s the last straw. How could anyone feel such deep attachments to something they hadn’t known existed until two hours ago? These… these damned emotions. They were just so infuriating.

“Why do you have to make it such a big deal? It’s just an animal, we can always adopt a new one when Thomas is financially prepared.” Apparently that was the wrong thing to say because suddenly Roman was up in arms.

“How dare you. This dog has been a part of our lives for two hours and these have been the best two hours of my life. I wouldn’t expect you to understand though, seeing as how there’s too many ooey gooey emotions for you to block out.”

Logan froze, unable to process what to say. Before he could even register what was happening, Patton had picked up the dog and was cuddling it close to his chest, making sure Logan could see the dog’s large blue eyes.

“It’s okay, puppy, Logan’s just a big ole Grumpy Gus who doesn’t love you yet. He’ll come around though, he’s not entirely a robot… I don’t think?” He added as he handed the dog off to Virgil.

“They’re right, Lo. It’s not that big a deal, not when you get to know him.” Get to know him? They’d literally just found this creature. What was there to know? It’s a dog. Dogs need food and bedding and proper hygiene schedules and… and…

“Maybe he can’t love him, but that won’t stop us,” Roman said, ruffling the dog’s ears gently as it perched in Virgil’s arms. Logan’s throat felt cold and his chest was aching. This– this wasn’t good. He could feel his nerves vibrating as his anger and despair fell out of check. It was too much. They were too much. The last thing he saw before sinking out was four sets of eyes staring at him. Every one of them held some kind of emotion, but he didn’t have time to sort them out as he was encompassed by the dim light of his own room.

He’s not entirely a robot… I don’t think.

I wouldn’t expect you to understand. There’s too many ooey gooey emotions for you to block out.

Maybe he can’t love him.

Logan’s head was spinning and he was now visibly shaking. He tried to steady himself on his armchair, but ended up slipping and falling to the floor instead. It was too much… it was all too much. He tried to keep his emotions in check, but they were seeping out one by one, each more powerful than the last. Anger, Embarrassment, Despair, Confusion. Panic. He was panicking, but it was too late. He’d already lost control and felt his fingertips vibrating as the emotions seeped further into his veins.

You’re an emotionless robot.

How could you understand?

You can’t love or be loved.

The words were being distorted by fear.

COGNITIVE DISTORTION, his mind supplied helpfully. But the panic was setting in, it was too late. Too late. Too late.

COGNITIVEDISTORTIONCOGNITIVEDISTORTIONCOGNITIVEDISTORTION his mind yelled as his thoughts continued to spiral. There was no way out of this, his body continued to shake as he pulled himself into a ball on the floor, searching for some form of comfort on the cold, barren floor.

There was a knock at the door and Logan’s mind began processing the pattern.

Virgil.

Logan didn’t want him to come in. He didn’t want him to see him like this, but his thoughts continued to spiral and his mind continued calling out the fallacies in his logic. He reached out a shaky hand and managed the slightest of snaps to unlock his door. Virgil immediately stumbled in and met Logan’s eyes with an equally matched amount of panic. Patton and Roman were standing in the doorway; Roman looked aghast while Patton held his hand over his mouth, tears welling in his eyes.

“Oh Logan,” he whispered.

Logan felt like he was on fire and freezing at the same time. His skin felt too tight and every new breath of air choked him a little more than the last. He was numbly aware of Virgil kneeling beside him and was barely able to make out what he was saying through his own ragged breathing.

“In for four- 1, 2, 3, 4… Hold for seven- 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7… Out for eight- 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8…” Virgil seemed to be choking on his own words, but continued counting nonetheless, beginning to calm himself down in the process.

They continued on like this for a couple of minutes, taking breaks occasionally to simply count what was nearby to help ground themselves. Finally when Logan’s breathing calmed and Virgil was no longer hunched over beside him, the other Sides entered the room cautiously.

“Logan… I’m sorry, I–” Roman started.

“We didn’t mean for–” Patton tried, reaching out for the other Side before thinking better of it and retracting his hand. Logan hunched his shoulders, still willing his emotions back into those little boxes he was able to organize and maintain. He didn’t need them right now, he didn’t need them often. He could store them until the day Thomas decided Logic didn’t need empathy and he could toss them once and for all. He didn’t seem to have them anyways, as the other Sides had so blatantly pointed out.

“No, I’m sure you didn’t.” Damn, there goes Bitterness, Logan thought, mentally boxing that emotion once more.

“It wasn’t right… for us to say those things,” Virgil said, suddenly very interested in the floorboards. “I know you have emotions… It’s just that, well, sometimes we forget to… I don’t know, I’m just trying to say… We shouldn’t have said those things and even if you box up your emotions, it doesn’t mean that they can’t still be hurt.” Logan looked at him, surprised to hear Virgil weighing in so heavily on the matter. Of all of them, he’d expected Patton, but Virgil…

“I can feel them too, you know?” Virgil continued, finally looking at Logan again, a certain sadness in his eye that Logan wasn’t used to seeing. “The bad emotions, the panic, guilt, anxiety. That’s sort of right up my alley.” Logan mentally chided himself. Of course. Virgil could feel whenever any one of them was distressed the same way Roman could sense the start of a good idea or Patton could sense an influx of emotions. Patton had given up the reigns on negativity long ago, so though he was able to feel a shift in emotion if he thought for long enough, for Virgil it was like a punch to the gut.

Roman stepped forward, standing by the armchair beside Logan. “I’m sorry, I got carried away in the heat of the moment and… I know that passion is no excuse, but I hope you’ll forgive me. I promise to be more mindful in the future, that… that wasn’t very noble of me at all,” he finished solemnly. Logan smiled in appreciation.

“I’ll consider it… “ he said. Roman looked crestfallen for a moment before Logan put his hand on his shoulder, “I’ll forgive you this once, but don’t you ever try something like this again.” I’m not sure I could take it.

Roman nodded his head vigorously. “Indeed I shan’t. In fact, we could return the dog tonight if you want, I’m sure that some foster family would love to take care of him.” Logan thought for a moment before shaking his head.

“No, I think, given the right schedule and preparation, Thomas should be able to care for him.” Patton came up beside Virgil and smiled softly at Logan.

“I’m sorry too, I shouldn’t have said those things, especially when I knew they weren’t true. Emotions really can be messy and I don’t blame you for keeping them in check like you do. It’s really impressive, actually, how you manage to keep them so organized.”

Logan laughed dryly, “Yeah, you saw how well that helped me.” Patton reached forward and this time did put his hand on his shoulder reassuringly.

“Logan, you’re allowed to use whatever system works for you. So long as it isn’t harmful, if keeping your emotions in check like that is the best way to think logically, then I support you one hundred percent.” Logan smiled, genuinely feeling accepted for the first time in a long time. “Also,” Patton added, “we came up with a name for him if you wanted to weigh in.” Logan raised an eyebrow curiously.

“Okay, so we were thinking… Reese. Short for Reason… you know, like the pieces that come together to make logical decisions?” Patton finished hurriedly, hoping it wasn’t too forward of them to name their new pet after one of Logan’s aspects.

He laughed and the others’ shoulders relaxed as the tense atmosphere melted away.

“Reese… I like it.” There was a soft bark in the distance.

“Well I’m glad,” Roman said, leaning out the door, “because it looks like Reese does too.” The dog came barreling into the room, a little ball of energy. Logan knelt down and scratched Reese’s back as he happily nuzzled his head into Logan’s tie. There was only one logical thing left to do. Logan opened a box and basked in its emotion. Love.

#logan writes #sanders sides #lamp fic #fics #my fic #logan sanders #angst #hurt/comfort #panic attack #patton sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #analogical #I have a headcanon for the Sides that I might go into later #it's been referenced in at least two of my fics now

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soldierstark · 7 years ago

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She's Not You | TOM HOLLAND X READER

Description: In which the reader, in an effort to get over her crush on Tom, decides to set him up but for some reason none of the girls ever get a second date. Tom's problem is that the one girl he wants to go out with seems to be hell bent on setting him up with someone else.

Author's Note: I'm back hoes what's good? I'm pretty proud of how this turned out and I hope you liked reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Inspiration for this fic came from something I read a while ago and last night it popped into my mind for some reason so yea now there's this. Anyway, let me know what you think!

Word Count: 2219

FANFICTION MASTERLIST

“So?” I prodded Tom, dragging out the o’s as long as possible. We were in his dressing closet after a long day of filming as he took out his regular clothes at a snail’s pace. You’d think since he’s somewhat of an athlete he’s be a quick changer but unfortunately that wasn’t the case.

Tom took out a pair of jeans and threw them on a nearby chair. “So what?” he asked not looking at me.

I threw my head back with a groan, he knew exactly what I was going to ask him. It was the same question I always asked him every time I set him up with a new girl. Each week I’d find a girl who would go on a date with Tom, which wasn’t that much of a challenge, and each week he’d take the girl to dinner.

The only problem was that none of these girls ever got a second date. Not a single one and for the life of me I couldn’t figure out why. I like to think I know Tom pretty well so I’m always surprised when the girls I think he’ll really like never get a second date.

“How was your date with Quinn?” I asked, eager to hear what he thought of her. This is the same question I’d ask every week with another girl’s name. I was hoping that Tom would say he liked her and that he would be taking her out again but-

“It was fine,” Tom answered pulling out a t shirt and shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

I another groan of frustration escaped from my lips as I slammed my head against the wall repeatedly. Every week I got the same answer. The date was always fine, not good or bad, just fine. I ran my fingers through my (Y/H/C) hair exasperated. I didn’t think getting over Tom would be so difficult.

For the first few weeks I was in deep denial, I keep telling myself that these feeling were purely in the moment and would pass eventually. When that didn’t work, I told myself that it was just a crush that would go away once he got a girlfriend because then I’d be forced to get over him.

That’s why I started trying to set Tom up on dates. I was hoping since I knew him so well that I’d be able to find a good girl for him, that they’d hit it off, start dating, and that my idiotic crush that I had on my devilishly handsome co-star would just go away.

But bad luck always seemed to follow me around so of course nothing would go as planned.

“Just fine?” I asked Tom with a raised eyebrow, to tired and frustrated to hide the annoyance laced in my voice.

He turned away from the closet and walked over to his dresser, taking off the sweater he had on over the flannel he was wearing. The classic Peter Parker look. “It was fine (Y/N),” he repeated in the same monotonous tone he’d been using the entire conversation.

I threw my hand up in the air trying to release the irritation that was building up inside of me. “It can’t be just fine Tom I swear Quinn is like the perfect girl for you!” I argued with my voice steadily rising.

Tom scoffed and reached his hands up to start unbuttoning the flannel he had on. “Clearly you don’t know me as well as you think you do,” he retorted starting to sound irritated as well.

At this point I had reached my maximum level of frustration. For weeks I had been trying to set him up and my tolerance has dissipated. I grabbed both of Tom’s shoulders with as much force as I could and turned him around to face me.

As soon as his deep brown eyes met mine, I could feel my expression immediately soften and I suddenly forgot how to put coherent sentences together. Tom’s eyes were wide because I’d never been forceful with him before. It must’ve been a spur of the moment thing because once I got a look at his face I calmed down significantly.

That’s when I realized how close we were. I could see every speckle of different colored browns in his eyes and the eyelashes that framed them. His curly brown hair was extremely disheveled and a lone piece fell into his face. Tom’s pink lips parted slightly as he stared straight at me in surprise.

Once I gathered my thoughts I released him and took a large step backwards, clearing my throat to try and regain the composure I had before his face was so close to mine. Tom still stood facing me but his eyes went back to their normal size along with the stone-cold expression he wore earlier.

I crossed my arms and returned his glare before speaking. “You and I both know that’s not true. We’ve seen each other basically every day of the week for over a year now Tom. I do know you well, people can’t spend as much time together as we do without becoming close.”

Tom’s expression softened temporarily because he knew I was right. The process of filming and promoting a movie is very extensive and takes a long time which is the reason co-stars tend to become really good friends or even date in some instances.

I’ve seen every side of him. The goofy side that likes to play pranks on set and often laughs while filming a serious scene. The side that struggles to keep a straight face during emotional scenes and the side that’s serious and stays up till 3 am memorizing his lines for the next day. There’s the side that has mini-freak-outs over his newfound stardom and the side that handles the fame with ease.

I’ve always understood Tom, the way his mind works and the way he processes thoughts and makes decisions. I could predict his next move and read his mind with a single look, which is why I find it so strange that I can’t figure out why Tom kept turning down these really great girls.

This was the side of Tom that he never showed me, or anyone for that matter because he’s a genuinely sweet and happy guy. This side was cold, distant, and expressionless. It was the one side I couldn’t stand.

“Quinn is perfect for you! She’s hilarious and beautiful. She wants to be a professional ballet dancer and she’s slightly awkward like you are but not afraid to try new things. Quinn is really nice, Jacob and Zendaya both really like her. Hell Tom, I do too, that’s why I set her up with you in the first place because I want you to be happy and I think she’ll do that for you!” I cried while stuffing my jealousy back down my throat.

Quinn was all of these things and any guy would be lucky to have her. I have many reasons to hate her but I just can’t because she’s such a kind person. It made me sick to my stomach thinking about it.

“Alright fine!” Tom shouted back. “Quinn is amazing and wonderful and she might literally be the nicest person I’ve ever met. She’s pretty, down to earth, and not afraid of mice or roller coasters. She’s literally the perfect girl!”

I blinked away tears that had begun to form during his little rant. I could feel my anger quickly dissolve into jealousy and heartbreak as I listened to him talk about Quinn like she was goddess. If you took one look at me, you could practically see envy leaking through every crack and flaw I had.

Because unlike Quinn, I wasn’t the perfect girl. Even though I knew the chances of Tom talking about me the way he talked about Quinn were very slim, I still pretended that I was as important to him as he is to me.

“Then why won’t you go out with her?” I sighed, not having the energy or the heart to yell anymore.

Tom ran his fingers through his already disheveled hair and turned back around towards his closet with a heavy sigh. “God (Y/N)… what are you doing to me?” he mumbled to the air in front of him. I pretended like I hadn’t heard him, but I did, every word and it only gave me more questions that I wanted answers too.

After a few silent beats passed, he broke the silence. “(Y/N) I- I just… it’s...just…you… why do you have to make this so dam difficult?” Tom moaned, his accent becoming very prominent.

I stepped forward, gaining some newfound courage. “I’m not the one making this difficult Tom, you are. So please just make this easier for the both of us and give me a straight answer this time,” I demanded, surprised at the steadiness of my voice.

I was done feeling do hopeless and vulnerable around him. He made me feel strong and self-assured but he was also the one person who could tear me down with a single word. It was kind of ironic how the person in my life that made me stronger could also be my biggest weakness.

“Because!” he paused to run a hand through his hair yet again, an unfortunate habit he possessed that came out when he was nervous.

“Because…” I urged slowly, wanting an answer.

Tom let out a defeated huff and gripped his closet door tightly. His knuckles began to turn ghostly white from the amount of pressure he had on his grip. “Because she’s not you,” he whispered, looking up at me for a split second before he slammed the door shut and walked out the room.

I stood there frozen for moment, trying to register what he said. A part of me wanted to run up to Tom and kiss him senseless, but the bigger part of me wanted to go up to him and yell because he walked off. I chose to do the latter.

“Thomas Holland!” I yelled stalking towards him. He stopped with one foot in front of the other as I grabbed his shoulder and turned him around for the second time that day. His face was really close to mine but this time I was unfazed. “Y-You can’t… You can’t just do that!”

“Do what?” he asked causally shrugging his shoulders

“Y-You can’t just say something like that and walk away. This isn’t some movie where everything just magically falls into place,” I ranted with the excessive use of hand gestures. “You’re supposed to like Quinn! She’s perfect you even said so yourself. I ju-“

“What made you think that I want perfect,” Tom interrupted me. “Did you ever think that I don’t want perfect? That I want something real? (Y/N), did you ever wonder why I turned down every single girl you set me up with?”

“Why,” I whispered trying to keep a steady voice.

“Because of you… (Y/N). On every single date the only person on my mind was you. Trust me when I say that I’ve tried to get over you but I just can’t seem to do it. I’ve found myself comparing every girl I was with to you, and everything they I do I think about how you could do it ten times better. And to be honest, none of them hold a candle to you. Not even Quinn,” he whispered, although I didn’t have to listen closely to hear him because we were so close.

I felt his hot, jagged breath on my skin as he spoke. I shivered involuntarily from where his breathe tickled my neck. “I don’t want perfect (Y/N),” Tom continued. “I want someone who’s afraid to try new things because she over thinks everything and is the complete opposite of a ballet dancer. I want someone who’s a little bossy sometimes and is insecure so I can remind her everyday how breath-taking she is. I want you.”

“I-“I stopped myself knowing that anything I’d say from this point would be babbling nonsense. Normally this would be the point of the movie were I would grab Tom and kiss him as if my life depended on it but like I said before, this isn’t a movie. “Are you sure?” I asked quirking an eyebrow.

His chest rumbled from laughter and a smile broke out on his face. Tom pulled me closer by the waist and in one quick motion he was kissing me. It only took a moment for me to melt into the kiss and return it with just as much intensity.

One of my arms slid around his neck while the other weaved itself into his hair, pulling his face closer to mine. What I was feeling at that moment was indescribable. It felt like the big drop of a roller coaster or the adrenaline rush you get when you do something you’re not supposed to.

Tom pulled away all too soon and grinned at me cheekily. “If I wasn’t sure before I sure am now,” he said playfully, wiggling his eyebrows.

All I did was laugh and pull him down for another kiss. And for the first time, ever in my life, I was fine with not being perfect.

Tagged

@tomquaksonsholland

@jvghead-jones-iii

@devilsdaughter1225

@avengersgirllorianna

@thelifeofanengineeringstudent

@jesterrose1213 @lamia-maizat @lostqueen1613

@eliza-hamilton-helpless

@darlingimafangirl

@riverdalemami

@philipshaaayyyy

@xbobaaa

@marvelavengers8

#peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fic #peter parker imagine #tom Holland x reader #tom holland #tom Holland fanfiction #tom Holland fic #spiderman: homecoming #spiderman #spider-man: homecoming #spiderman fanfiction #off #fanfiction

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thewrittenpost · 7 years ago

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10 Questions Tag

So, I was tagged by @rychillacases; thanks so much!! Putting under a Read More for length.

1. What kind of genre do you like to write? Why?

I like fantasy I guess. I like the magic and mayhem and, while this is true for pretty much any genre, the sheer possibility of it all. Like, if I wanted elephants to be purple in my world, well, they could be purple. It’s a fantasy world, not everything is going to be the same (not that I would make purple elephants, but still). Also, I grew up loving fantasy, so I’ll admit I have a slight bias towards that genre when I write.

2. Which do you like writing better, heroes or villains?

I suppose it depends; in general, I’d probably have to say a villain is more fun to write, and the “evil” nature is always interesting to explore (I’m also interested by serial killers and all, so real life inspires I guess) but heroes that grow and change and character development is so much fun too. It really depends on the story I’m working on really.

3. Do your characters have a favourite type of weather?

It depends on the character, but in everything I’ve ever written, there has always been a character who loves the weather right before a storm, as well as storms in general. Always. I never have a story where no one likes stormy weather.

4. Romantic or platonic relationships?

Oh, this is definitely a character thing. I mean, I love both. I love having both around; a platonic relationship can be just as, if not more, important to some characters, and why not write about a relationship that’s purely platonic, and they absolutely love each other and would do anything for each other?

Also, I kinda hated the whole, "romance is the most important thing to this character” stuff I’ve seen before while I was growing up. Like, this person had friends before a romantic interest ever showed up; why would they just start ditching them because someone told them they were cute?

5. Which OC of yours would you get along with best?

If I was in my OC’s world... I’d probably get along best with Gwen; she’s chill. But in our world, Theo and I could have major nerd-fests in which we’d argue about Tolkien’s writing and book-to-movie adaptations.

6. Would you survive in your OCs’ world? Why or why not?

I don’t think I would; I’d say the wrong thing to the wrong person and end up losing my head for it. Unless I was born on Wispa. I could probably survive on Wispa.

7. What would you say is one of your “quirks” as a writer?

A quirk? Uh... my first draft is always handwritten. Always. I hand-write my first draft, my “second draft” (I use that lightly) is as I edit my handwritten while I type it, and then my third draft (or second depending on how you consider it) is my deep edits where I’m moving, rewriting, or scrapping scenes. It’s been what I do for all my creative writing assignments since like... middle school. I don’t like when I can’t do it that way; it’s my routine now.

8. Are there any writing “rules” that you break consistently? I.e. commonly said rules that you just don’t follow?

Uh... the “said is dead” rule. I mean, I use a lot of other things, but I need my said. Sometimes said is just a good, noncommittal word that fits any situation and I need it.

9. What does “show don’t tell” mean to you?

I never really thought about it? I mean, maybe describing something about someone instead of just saying it. So instead of, She was tired., use something like She suppressed a yawn, rubbing at eyes that felt as if they would close any moment and not open for hours. I don’t know. That was just random writing (I’m a little tired myself, so maybe that’s why that example happened).

That, or the immense amount of detail describing stuff (I’m looking at you, Lord of the Rings... anything Tolkien really)

10. Post a recent snippet of your writing. Do you like it?

Oh gosh... eh, here goes.

The first sign that something was wrong was the cat. It might have been handsome once, before the years outdoors had dulled the shine of it’s speckled coat, and fights had left scars and tears all over his body.

The cat cared for one human only, and she certainly wasn’t in this forest cottage. The cat itself rarely entered the forest, scavenging and stealing from villager’s tables instead.

When it hopped through Granny’s window, it took all of them by surprise.

So, I mean... its first draft work. Like... just popped in my head, get the idea down, first draft work. And the cat doesn’t have a name, because literally no one likes it enough to give it a name. It’s not horrible (chapter two makes me hurt inside, so this is an improvement) but it’s not the work that makes me happiest (also, it’s not edited, so that makes me less happy)

Okay, so I’m just going to tag @rusty-sky-cat @theguildedtypewriter and @futureauthor-mabye if you guys want to do this!

#stuff about me #the writer speaks #read more for length

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jonghyundroppedthesoap · 7 years ago

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My Number One Fan

Chapter 28 Pairing: JongKey Word Count: 4,370 Summary: Kibum goes to the same, run-down bar every week to watch the man of his affections sing his heart out with a mere guitar for company. He wasn’t expecting the coffee, nor the beautiful personality within the singer. And he definitely wasn’t expecting to fall in love.

A/N: first of all - i have never been more sorry in my life. i know this took months, and i don’t really have any excuse. i’ve just been really stressed with school and unmotivated, but don’t worry! i’ve got another chapter after this to upload and i’ve started the last two. please enjoy, and don’t hate me <3

“Where are we going, Minho?” laughed Taemin happily, perfectly content to be dragged from place to place by his boyfriend.

Minho beamed, practically skipping across to his car on the other side. “On our first date!” he sang. “I wanna take you someplace nice.”

Usually the type to act tough when presented with anything sentimental, Taemin had seemingly morphed into a completely new person, blushing brightly at even Minho’s smallest displays of affection. School had finished for the day and everyone, in their pursuit to hurry home, had already cleared out. “It’s a school night…” he hummed, though no signs of disappointment were evident. Taemin shrugged at his own comment. “Oh well!”

Pausing, Minho regarded Taemin worriedly. “You sure your parents won’t care?”

“No, no, no,” waved Taemin assuredly, snatching Minho’s keys and unlocking the car with glee. “They won’t mind at all.”

Minho rolled his eyes fondly and slipped into the driver’s seat. “If you say so, Taem.”

The car started up and Minho pulled out onto the road smoothly, making sure that Taemin had clipped his seatbelt in before speeding off.

“But seriously, where are we going?” spoke Taemin again after a few moments of silence, watching out the window as they headed away from the city centre.

Reaching one arm over, Minho clasped his hand together with Taemin’s. “It’s a surprise.” he teased playfully, shooting the younger a quick, adoring glance.

An hour into the drive, Taemin had already managed to fall asleep, head lolling to the side as his quiet breaths filled the air. Minho smiled serenely, hoping that he would remain asleep until they reached their destination. He had thought long and hard about where to take the younger, and eventually decided that for a first date, this would be the best option.

Only fifteen minutes remained, and when the two finally came to the top of the hill Minho had driven them too, the taller boy let out a whistle of appreciation. He was careful as to not wake Taemin while he worked, reaching into the trunk of the car for his blanket and picnic basket. Due to the time of the day, the sun was already beginning to set, the vague outline of the moon making itself known through the speckle of white clouds.

Taemin was beginning to stir just as Minho finished setting up, patting the blanket down one last time in reassurance that everything would be perfect. A slight wind ruffled his hair, and Minho barely contained the shiver which ran down his spine. Rubbing his eyes, Taemin looked up at Minho through the windscreen and smiled widely, jumping out of the car in tired excitement.

“How did you…What is—,”

“It’s pretty, right?”

Taemin snorted. “Never thought I’d hear the word ‘pretty’ falling from your mouth.”

Minho gave Taemin a gentle nudge. “Shut up, I’m trying to be sentimental. But yeah…Do you like it?”

“Of course I like it,” Taemin rolled his eyes before taking a seat on the picnic rug. “Come and sit down.”

Joining the younger, Minho spread the food around the blanket and took a sandwich off the platter. Taemin followed suit, and for around ten minutes or so the two teenage boys spent the time stuffing their faces with fruit, sandwiches, cake and beverages. Looking at Minho mischievously, Taemin grabbed a grape from a plate and gestured to Minho’s mouth. “Try and catch it,” he smirked.

Although he rolled his eyes, Minho obliged without complaint and shuffled back a bit. The first grape bounced off his teeth and onto the grass, but before he could complain about it Taemin was at the ready with a second. This one too, bounced off his face and rolled pathetically along the blanket.

“C’mon Taemin, we’re wasting them.”

Taemin tutted indignantly, before offering with a wide grin. “If you catch one, I’ll give you a kiss.”

Immediately, Minho’s facial expression changed and he gestured for Taemin to hurry up and throw one. “Well then, what are you waiting for?”

An unattractive snort emitted from Taemin, and without hesitation he threw the third grape. Minho dove desperately, yet nonetheless ended up groaning in annoyance as it wacked him on his chin. “How am I meant to catch one if you’re throwing them that hard?”

Taemin offered no response. Instead, when Minho looked up, he rolled around hysterically with phone in hand. “W-Why…You look so desperate,” he cackled loudly.

“No...” whinged Minho, reaching forward to pluck Taemin’s phone from him. “That’s so embarrassing!”

Rolling out of the way, Taemin couldn’t contain the squeal which escaped his mouth as Minho lunged at him and trapped him against the grass below. Taemin beamed up at Minho’s red face, popping a grape in the older boy’s mouth as he moved to say something.

“Oh! You caught it!” exclaimed Taemin excitedly, and Minho didn’t even have time to process what had happened before a pair of arms wrapped themselves around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. Minho squeaked in shock before sinking into the embrace, and reciprocated almost immediately. The two spent a while simply laughing and mucking around on the grass, before soon, it became too difficult to see where they even were under the sunless sky.

Relaxing on the rug side by side, Minho and Taemin looked up at the vast array of stars beyond them. They had opted to lay down, and suddenly affected by the cold, strong winds that blew from every direction, Taemin snaked his hand down to entwine it with Minho’s.

Minho grinned giddily, and gave Taemin’s hand a tight squeeze.

“Hey, Minho?” Taemin spoke gently, as though he was afraid to break the calm silence surrounding them.

“Mm?”

Taemin hesitated for a few seconds. “Have you told anyone yet?”

He was met with silence, and Taemin briefly considered that Minho hadn’t heard him. But as he went to repeat the question, Minho finally spoke.

“Not yet.” he replied. “But I will.”

“Me too.” spoke the dancer, reassured. “I’m not scared or anything…But I am, at the same time. If that makes any sense.”

Minho laughed breathily. “Not really.”

Sighing, Taemin went on to elaborate. “I’m not scared that they’ll judge me, or the fact that it’s you I’m dating rather than a girl, but…To say it aloud and make a deal out of it makes it seem a lot more daunting. Because then it becomes awkward and…yeah, I don’t know.”

“I getcha, don’t worry.” Minho spoke, turning his head to kiss Taemin softly on the cheek. “Then we just won’t ‘tell’ them. Maybe next time I come over, we’ll casually just hold hands or something like that. Or maybe drop some hints so they’ll ask you instead.”

Taemin grinned widely, a light blush tingeing his cheeks. “You always have the best ideas.”

“Don’t I?”

Minho yelped as Taemin slapped his leg not-so-lightly, and turned his head to see an evil smirk upon his boyfriend’s face.

“Don’t be cocky,” Taemin tutted, and rolled his eyes at the faux look of hurt imprinted on Minho’s face. He leant forward for a kiss, and all of a sudden, the brief animosity between them was gone.

Jonghyun was fairly certain he hadn’t left his room in four whole days other than to go to the toilet, and even then, it was for a mere minute at a time. His bed had become his safe haven – hiding from nothing but his own fears and guilt. Cursing his fragility, Jonghyun cocooned himself within his blankets and stared at the door with forlorn.

His stomach growled in anger, but with the air conditioner on and his blankets draped over him leisurely, he would’ve much rather continued to indulge in luxury than leave his room for some mere food. The guilt that he felt after the whole ordeal with Kibum was stifling, even more so because he knew that he couldn’t even do anything about it. Kibum was trapped in a house with an abusive father, and deep down, Jonghyun knew that it was partially his fault.

If he had only controlled his emotions for once in his life and stayed out of Kibum’s business when he was asked, then would Kibum’s father still treat him so terribly? Sure, he wasn’t the reason Kibum was gay – the younger had stated that he had always known he was, after all. But if Jonghyun hadn’t appeared in Kibum’s life, flirted with him, and taken their relationship to the next level, then perhaps Kibum’s father wouldn’t have had an excuse to take action.

Kibum’s words rang loudly in his head.

“It’s your fault.”

“Everything was fine before you got here. My dad was fine before you got here!”

“Being with you is so hard.”

Jonghyun felt he was the cause, yet nonetheless, was too selfish to ever think of leaving Kibum. Because Kibum’s life wasn’t the only one who had changed upon the beginning of their relationship. Jonghyun’s had too. Before, he was writing songs pointlessly day on end, flittering in and out of a depression which left him consistently powerless and without motivation. Kibum had ended that. Now, Jonghyun had a reason to get out of bed every day. He had a reason to write songs, and he had something to strive towards.

So despite his fear of Kibum’s father, and the utter guilt which infected every bone in his body, Jonghyun could never give him up. It was that thought that left him stuck in his room for days on end, staring at the roof with a blank gaze and sleeping for an amount unnatural to most humans.

Jonghyun was, to put it simply, afraid of rejection. He wanted to apologize to Kibum, yet at the same time, didn’t want Kibum to see his faults. Like his own father had done to his mother, Jonghyun was afraid that Kibum would eventually realise that he wasn’t all that great, and leave him for someone else who didn’t cause him this much trouble.

It was an endless game of cat and mouse, one that Jonghyun was only knocked out of by a loud knock on his bedroom door.

“Jonghyun, honey?” came the concerned voice of his mother.

Jonghyun grumbled in response.

“Honey…do you need to talk to me about something? Did something happen with Kibum? Or maybe Jinki?”

“I’m okay, mum. J-Just…what day is it? My phone went flat.”

He could hear his mother sigh from the other side of the door, and flushed rouge. He hated his mother seeing him like this, but despite the shame, he simply couldn’t will himself out of it. “It’s Tuesday, Jonghyun. It’s been a week. Roo wants to see you.”

Abruptly, Jonghyun sat up straight and stared at the door in astonishment. A week had already passed? A week of him snacking on packets of chips and chocolate which he kept under his bed and drinking water from the bathroom sink.

He briefly considered what he had planned for the week and cursed aloud when he remembered that tomorrow was Wednesday. The day that Kibum’s mother had told him was parent teacher interviews. The day he could finally see Kibum again and apologize. The fear and guilt lingered, but Kibum’s wellbeing resonated at the forefront of his mind in spite of his other foreboding thoughts. Pushing his blankets down to his ankles, Jonghyun called through the door. “I’ll be out in half an hour.”

Jumping a few times to assure that his precariously balanced camera wouldn’t fall when dancing, Kibum grinned when it remained steady and moved to turn on the speakers. The past few weeks had got him thinking about his future, and while pursuing law or something similar was probably more practical and expectant of him, what Jonghyun and he had talked about so many months ago still resonated in his mind. University would provide him with a degree – that was certain. But it would do the same for so many others. Why pursue something that he has no interest in whatsoever to please those around him, when he could finally do what he wants for once and achieve his dream?

That’s why Kibum had decided he was going to apply for Korea National University of Arts. Many people already knew how much he enjoyed dance, so it wouldn’t be that much of a surprise. Yes, it was university. And he could still obtain a degree. But he could focus solely on his dancing while he was doing it, killing two birds with one stone. To Kibum, it was the perfect compromise, not that he was going to tell anyone bar his small group of friends and Jonghyun.

With the prospect of freedom in mind, Kibum pressed play on his chosen song and hurriedly ran back to the centre of the room, proceeding to dance like he had never danced before.

Wiping away the sweat upon his forehead, Kibum dropped onto the dance studio floor and breathed heavily. After dancing a few times over and looking over the recording, the video was finally done, and all that was left was for Kibum to send it, along with his application, to the university of his choice.

Dread remained at the pit of his stomach at what tomorrow would bring – his parent teacher interviews. All the lies he had told up until now weighed on his shoulders, but all Kibum could do was pray that his parents would only ask about his grades and that the teacher would just go along with everything they said. Despite his optimism, a bad feeling remained in the back of his mind. A bad feeling that Kibum just couldn’t shake off.

Before he could contemplate it for much longer however, the door to the dance room opened, and in walked Taemin and Minho. Kibum smiled at them brightly and went to look back down at his phone before –

His head shot up quickly, studying the two boys before him. Kibum’s eyes had not been fooling him, because right there, clear as daylight, were Minho and Taemin holding hands as though they had been doing so their whole lives. Kibum coughed loudly, gesturing down at their entwined hands with a raised eyebrow as the two looked his way. Minho flushed brightly in embarrassment whilst Taemin beamed and lifted their hands higher for display. “We’re dating now,” he spoke bluntly, glancing up at Minho with admiration in his eyes.

Astonished at Taemin’s sudden bravery and confidence, Kibum could only thank you Minho inwardly at returning the younger boy’s feelings. He didn’t deserve to be rejected twice, and Kibum hoped that Kai was somewhere regretting the loss of a great friendship.

He cheered aloud at the revelation and congratulated the two, but both Minho and Taemin could see that there was a light missing in his eyes. “Is everything alright, Kibum?” asked Minho concernedly, thinking back to the suspicions he’d had about Kibum’s life outside of school.

Kibum blinked. “Of course it is.”

Sighing inwardly, Minho could only nod at Kibum’s response before he and Taemin took a seat on the floor beside him. “How about Jonghyun? I haven’t seen him in a while…”

Kibum visibly stiffened, attempting a casual shrug. “I don’t know, he’s probably fine.”

“Haven’t you been talking to him?” spoke up Taemin, discretely sharing a worried look with Minho.

“Not recently, no. And can you stop fucking looking at each other like that? Jonghyun and I don’t need to spend every goddamn second of the day together to be happy.”

Overcome with guilt, Minho and Taemin softly apologized, though Kibum’s ears picked up on the low, “Sure seems like that from the way you’ve been acting recently,” which Minho muttered beneath his breath.

Choosing to ignore him, Kibum directed his attention to Taemin. “So how did you two get together, anyway?”

Taemin blushed. “I kinda just yelled at Minho for ignoring what had happened a few weeks ago, and then he confessed he didn’t dislike the kiss, and then um…yeah, you know how it is.”

Bouncing on his legs excitedly, Kibum sighed contentedly. “Who knew that so much would happen this year?”

Minho agreed wholeheartedly, but Taemin remained silent. Kibum regarded the youngest of the three with curiosity, before he finally spoke up.

“This year’s been great and all, but…I just don’t know what’s gonna happen next year when you both leave. I don’t have many friends here, if it wasn’t already obvious.”

The mood was all of a sudden dampened considerably, and Kibum looked at Taemin with empathy in his gaze. He knew all too well what it was like to go to school each day with no friends to sit with. Quite frankly, it was horrible. There was no will to get out of bed in the morning, no will to study hard. But Kibum said to Taemin the only thing that he felt was right. “Just keep coming to school, Taem. Things get better. It might take a while but… they do get better.”

Taemin nodded, albeit reluctantly, however was hurriedly comforted by Minho who wrapped an arm around Taemin’s shoulder and planted a kiss on his cheek. “I’ll come visit you here every day,” he laughed warmly, rolling his eyes at the sly expression Kibum sent his way.

“Aren’t you two the cutest thing to ever bless this universe?”

Cheeks reddening, Taemin shied away from Minho’s embrace, though still remained comfortably situated within his arms. Minho simply laughed off Kibum’s comment, and instead moved to change the topic. “Are you going to parent teacher interviews tomorrow?”

With a loud grumble of annoyance, Kibum nodded. “Yeah, I have to. Are you?”

“Yep – Jinki and Luna wanna hear all about my grades and potential scholarships and whatnot… I’m not too pumped about it but hey, at least they don’t go for too long.”

Kibum mentally applauded Minho’s optimism, though it was safe to say that he did not harbour the same hope as his fellow third year.

Out of curiosity, Taemin reached forward to snatch Kibum’s camera from his grasp, however it was already too late. The school bell signalling the end of lunch time sounded loudly throughout the room, and Kibum jumped up hurriedly with a small poke of the tongue at Taemin. “As if I’m letting you see this, you little shit.”

Taemin stood up and smirked devilishly. “I knew it, it’s a fucking porno of you and Jonghyun.”

Minho burst into laughter at that, ruffling Taemin’s hair fondly upon gauging the expression on Kibum’s face.

“In your dreams, Taem. For your information, it’s just a dance I choreographed.”

Shoving Kibum playfully out of the dance room door and into the corridor, Taemin commented offhandedly. “Yeah, yeah, that’s what they all say. Don’t worry, little Kibum, your secret’s safe with me.”

At that, Kibum could only roll his eyes, giving Taemin one last wave before Minho and he made their way back down to the third year classrooms.

The following evening brought Kibum and his parents back to his school for day that Kibum had been dreading for so long. He regarded the other students with slight jealousy clouding his eyes, watching as their parents patted their shoulder proudly and congratulated them on a year well done. His mother made polite conversation and commented on the school every now and then, however his father remained utterly silent and stoic, trailing behind with a harsh expression permanently printed onto his face.

Unsurprisingly, his family had shown up earlier than their designated time, and were left to merely wander around the third year building until they were called into Kibum’s classroom. Kibum expected to run into a few people he was acquainted with, but what he wasn’t expecting was to see Minho, Jinki and Luna making their way up to his family, all with equally wide and carefree grins on their faces.

“Hey, Kibum!” Minho called across the hall upon spotting the other boy.

Kibum beamed and gestured Minho over, though it was obvious to see that the family’s joyous demeanour wavered upon meeting Kibum’s father’s dark stare.

Jinki stiffened as he regarded the burly man – this was surely Kibum’s father. Though some of their features appeared very similar, Kibum’s youthful and caring nature juxtaposed with his father’s unforgiving one made it obvious that the two males were complete opposites. Jinki recalled Minho’s concerns about possible abuse, and felt his own eyes narrow to a glare in caution.

Pushing his prejudice and doubts aside, Jinki stepped forward with a kind smile and offered his hand for a shake. “Hi, I’m Jinki! Nice to mee—“

“Aren’t you a little bit young to be a father?”

Jinki paused, shocked, and slowly retracted his hands. Never before in his life had he been greeted with something so blunt, and all of a sudden a piece of the puzzle concerning Kim Kibum found its way into the picture. Kibum’s chatter with Minho came to an abrupt halt and he looked at his father with disbelief, ears flushing red in utmost humiliation. “I’m sorry, Jinki…” spoke Kibum softly, eyes apologetic.

“No, no. It’s fine.” Jinki reassured brightly, before redirecting his attention back to Kibum’s father. “Minho’s actually my brother. And this is my wife – Luna.”

Kibum’s mother smiled politely and offered a quiet, “Nice to meet you”, however his father remained silent, assessing the family for a few long seconds before finally harrumphing in acceptance. He offered no more words, nor any handshakes, leaving Jinki to stand there awkwardly on edge.

Giving one last wave to Kibum, Jinki took Luna’s hand and gestured for Minho to follow, pointing at an open classroom door to the right. “That’s us guys, c’mon.”

Kibum waved, yet his cheerful conduct immediately changed upon their departure. Words couldn’t describe how much Kibum loathed the man beside him. He was disgusted at his rudeness and treatment towards others, and never before had Kibum been so embarrassed to call that man his father.

Yet before he could think about it for too long, a door slightly up the hall opened and Kibum’s mother took another glance at the paper in her hands. “This is us,” she spoke, before the family of three promptly made their way towards the designated classroom.

Kibum wiped his sweaty hands against his jeans before greeting his teacher politely. “Hi, Miss. This is my mother and father.” Kibum gestured to his parents, swallowing thickly at the sudden icy atmosphere which shrouded the room.

“Hey, Kibum. Hi, Mr and Mrs Kim. Take a seat.”

Upon sitting across from the teacher, she took a pile of papers from her bag next to her and spread them over the table. “So, as you can see from this report card,” she pushed it closer to the family, “Kibum has been doing excellent in class. He’s averaging A’s and A pluses, though he’s got the occasional B plus in maths. His English is phenomenal, though, so I don’t think you’ve got anything to worry about.”

Kibum’s father snatched the report card from the desk and studied it himself with a scrutinising stare. He grumbled something incoherent about the math grade, but Kibum ignored that to instead beam at the proud look upon his mother’s face.

“Now,” spoke his teacher again. “Final exams begin next week, so make sure Kibum continues to study hard – maybe boost that math mark a little bit. Kibum has written down that he is interested in studying law, but I also understand that Kibum wants to pursue dance or fashion design in the future so he doesn’t need to worry too much about it. Math isn’t the top priority.”

Yes, Kibum thought. Coming here was most definitely a mistake. His fists clenched the fabric of his pants and his blood ran cold at the teacher’s words, cursing the day he ever told her or anybody else about his interests and dreams for the future.

“He wants to pursue what?” questioned Kibum’s father slowly, though it was clear that he had heard the woman’s words perfectly.

“Um… dance?” she repeated unsurely, eyes flickering to gauge Kibum’s reaction.

Kibum ignored her gaze and instead chose to stare a hole in his lap, fearing the words which were definitely to come.

“Dance?” the man gritted out, teeth clenched in anger. “Boy, I thought you told me that was for the third year prom.”

The teacher sat dumbfounded, looking on confusedly. “Prom? What prom?”

Kibum wanted to cry. His father’s face was reddening in anger by the second, and Kibum could tell that it wouldn’t take much more for him to explode. He thought back to when he had told his father about the ‘prom’, and wanted to beat himself up for not thinking about it more carefully. The interview had only just begun, but already, Kibum’s intricate spiral of lies was being gradually unravelled and leaving all of his secrets in the bare open.

“We’re gonna have a little talk about this dancing later.” his father growled lowly, and Kibum’s mind shot back to the feeling of a large hand striking his face painfully. He visibly flinched.

“Um…Well…On another, more positive note, I suppose… Kibum’s made a lot of friends this year, which is great. I’ve seen him around school with Choi Minho and Lee Taemin, so I’m glad he’s found a nice group of friends.”

Kibum’s mother nodded, content, recalling that Jonghyun didn’t go to high school and praying that her husband wouldn’t pick up on the absence of his name. But the man was sharper than she took credit for, and the woman could only glance at Kibum with worry clouding her vision.

“And what about this Jonghyun I keep hearing of?” Kibum’s father practically spat Jonghyun’s name out. “In Kibum’s history class. Hasn’t been trying any funny business on my son, I hope.”

The teacher sat anxiously, scouring her mind for any student in Kibum’s history class who was possible named ‘Jonghyun’. It came back blank, and although she wanted to protect her student from the terrifying man before her, she could help but speak honestly beneath the man’s ruthless glower.

“I… I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know who you’re talking about. That Jonghyun mustn’t go to this school.”

#jongkey #chaptered #fanfic #drama #romance #high school au #2min #mnof #28 #ourshineeshrine

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hillnerd · 7 years ago

Text

Taking a Shallow Breath- Ch 2

Ships: Rose/Scorpius, canon and others | Fanfiction.net link

Romance friendship comedy family & drama

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Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4

"The big day is just around the corner."

"Your parents must be so proud, Rose."

"Aren't you excited?"

No. Rose was decidedly not excited. The giddy anticipation she had once experienced had recently been invaded by an intermingling of doubts and insomnia, making excitement a far distant feeling. Every time she had slowed her thoughts enough to perhaps sleep, another worry would arrive to distract her. This was the day she should be looking forward to more than any other, but all she could feel was uncertainty. Her family, excluding Al, all seemed beyond jubilant about it. As each day passed, one more enthusiastic thought would somehow be turned into a panic inducing horror. The night before was the very worst she had experienced.

Around midnight Rose had fussed over whether she should wear her robes or not. She got out of bed to look them over, and decided that she'd not be out of place wearing them once on the train. At two thirty-five she decided to read up on the four houses and make sure she would definitely be a Gryffindor. At four forty-seven she checked to see if all her pertinent books were packed: this compelled her to organize them alphabetically by topic, which took over an hour.

By the time the sun was rising, Rose found herself absolutely compelled to reorganize her school supplies, minus the already alphabetized books. Remembering how James had managed to make all his new robes speckled with a sickly purple colour thanks to his haphazard packing of ingredients, she vigilantly made sure her potions ingredients were stowed so they wouldn't leak into her belongings.

Only around seven was she finally able to doze off. She was having a strange dream where Mum and Dad had decided to disown her for becoming a Ravenclaw when she heard a piercing squeal of "ROSIE!" A heavy weight landed on her stomach, both waking her up and forcing all the air out of her lungs.

"Hugo!" she grunted with half-closed eyes.

He sat on her stomach and a look of innocent merriment played across his face. He seemed completely unaware of her discomfort. Rose tried to recover with the dignity and decorum her mother would have liked. She took a deep breath to calm herself, and abandoned the course of decorum for repeatedly hitting her little brother as hard as she could with her pillow.

"You're going to HOGWARTS!" he giggled gleefully, unfazed by the pillow repeatedly beating his mop of unruly red hair. "It's the best place ever and you're getting to go there today, and be sorted, and learn stuff, and meet people, and do things!"

"Don't ever jump on me while I'm sleeping," she said, putting him in a loose choke-hold and leading him to the door.

"But, Hogwarts, Rosie, Hogwarts! You'll get to use your wand, and be sorted, and meet people!" Hugo said breathlessly as she tried to wrestle him out the door.

"You said that already. Now get out of my room, Hugo."

"But––"

"Out, out, out!" she declared, slamming the door behind him.

"No slamming doors!" she heard Mum call from below.

"Yes Mum," she called back.

Seeing the time, Rose hurriedly put on her muggle clothes, her robes, tied her large amount of red hair back with her favourite blue ribbon, and then ran down the wooden stairs for breakfast.

Dad read the paper while munching on what looked like his fifth helping of toast, gauging by the heaping pile of crusts seated at his elbow. Mum was scratching a purring Crookshanks who was sitting in Hugo's long abandoned chair. The sound of him running back and forth upstairs and the occasional cry of 'Hogwarts!' abrasively fell down to their ears. Mum and Dad both ignored him with the ease only veteran parents could.

"I wish you wouldn't let the cat sit at the table. I always manage to get some of his fur in my eggs," said Dad from behind the Quidditch section of the paper.

"How do you know it's not your own hair? You're both ginger haired after all," Said Mum with a smile.

"Half of it is grey, Hermione."

"Like I said, how do you know it's not your own hair?"

Dad gave her a scowl he immediately belied with a fond smile.

"Last I checked there are no grey hairs on my head, thank you very much."

"Ron is just jealous. He's not as distinguished as you are, Crookshanks."

Dad gave a huff. Mum laughed and continued to scratch the ancient cat's chin, making no attempt to stop the cat from putting his paws on the table.

"With the way you let him get away with things, he'll take Rosie's place at the table within a day, and by the time she's back for the holidays, he'll have taken MY place."

Crookshanks took this as a cue to walk across the table to sit in Mum's lap, all the while throwing haughty glances towards Dad.

"Oh you nasty old beast," Dad muttered.

Rose sat at her place and started to dole some eggs onto her plate. They were still warm, as Mum always remembered to put a warming charm on their food in the mornings. Rose never seemed to be able to wake up as early as the rest of the family. The thought of her penchant for sleeping in leading to her expulsion flitted about in the transom of her mind, making her stomach lurch. She opted to force her way through the nausea, and started to shovel the eggs into her mouth with gusto.

"'Good morning' to you too, Rose," said Mum with a roll of her eyes. Rose swallowed the mouthful of eggs with a guilty look.

"Er, sorry. Thanks for keeping breakfast warm. Good morning. Nice weather," Rose rattled off as she buttered her toast.

"Looking forward to today, eh?" said Dad, giving Rose a warm smile.

"Yeah," she shakily said with as much energy as she could muster.

"You're looking a bit pale," said Mum.

"Didn't sleep much," she said, giving a shrug. Mum looked like she was about to placate her about worrying, so Rose quickly added, "I was too excited."

"Of course you're excited, you get to… oh how did Hugo say it?"

"'Be sorted, and learn stuff, and meet people, and do things,'" her Mum recited.

Dad laughed.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say Hugo is more excited than either you or Al about going. He's been talking about it non-stop for a week. Hermione, if he goes on for two, we're turning him over to Mum."

Rose silently hoped her parents wouldn't notice how worried she was about school. She also wished they wouldn't talk about it. Every time she was feeling remotely calm, someone would bring it up and get her mind in a tizzy again.

"What are you most excited about?" Mum inquired.

"Quidditch," Rose supplied, stuffing a large piece of toast into her mouth. "Spiphing off whish. Whatch da Kidditch scorsh ferda Cannonsh?"

"Don't speak with your mouth full," Mum admonished as Dad perked up.

She had a long talk with Dad about how the Cannons were the superior team, despite their lack of wins over the past century. All the while her Mum put Rose's unruly hair into a lovely plait and Hugo would occasionally interject nonsense moves he'd like to practice on the field. When Mum had finished braiding, Dad tied Rose's blue ribbon at the end of the plait.

"Blue for your eyes. Not any rival team or House," he said, putting a finger to her nose.

"Ron!" Mum called out. "You know that any House or team is fine!"

"Hmm…" said Dad, waggling his eyebrows at Hugo.

"Gryffindor and Cannons forever!" Hugo cried on cue.

Mum rolled her eyes and went up the stairs to levitate Rose's trunk to the car. Rose followed her up the stairs, but lingered behind to give her room one last look over.

As much as Rose was looking forward to learning magic, staring about her cheerfully painted room, she wasn't all that keen to leave just yet. She enjoyed waking up to Hugo's laughter every morning, listening to Mum and Dad playfully arguing as they made breakfast, and Crookshanks padding into her room to escape Hugo's wild antics.

She felt a pang as she saw the blank eyes of her stuffed toys looking back at her. After much internal debate, she decided to not to take them, and felt heartily guilty for it. Mr Snuggles, her favourite toy bear whose nose had faded from black to brown, was the one she would miss the most. No one else would have a stuffed toy, though, so she'd have to make do. She fiercely cuddled Mr Snuggles and whispered a small apology before going down the stairs.

"Do you suppose everyone else will be wearing their robes at the station?"

"I don't see why not," Mum answered distractedly. Rose looked to see the surprising sight of Dad getting in the driver's seat.

"Why is Dad driving? He doesn't have a license."

"Oh, he passed the test the other day. I don't know how, but they gave your father a license… Ron, are you sure you want to drive?" Mum asked as they buckled their seatbelts.

"Quite," Dad grinned, tossing his wallet into the backseat. "Look in there, you two."

Inside was an ID with a very unflattering picture of Dad on it.

"Ooo! It's plastic, Mum!" Hugo held it up into the sun to inspect it, making it glare into Rose's eyes.

"Got it only yesterday. Was certified a few weeks back," said Dad jauntily.

"I still don't know why you wouldn't let me go along with you for the test." Mum was looking the card over as if it were somehow deranged. "Buckle those belts tight, you two!"

"Oh come on, Hermione. I'm a good driver," said Dad pulling out of the driveway, and hitting a garden gnome that let out a string of curses for him.

By the end of their ride Rose was fairly convinced the card was a forgery and that Dad had never taken a driving test of any sort. They had nearly collided with no less than three cars, two busses, and five pedestrians by the time they arrived at the station. Somehow he always avoided them, though, which made Rose suspect he had mercifully charmed the car. When they parked Hugo asserted how Dad should always drive ("That was wicked!") while Rose and Mum clamoured to get out of the death trap.

"I'm driving back," Mum stated very firmly. "Who in the world gave you the license?"

"A Mr Applefinch."

"Did you Confund him?"

"Hermione, how could you ask that?" said Dad in a low voice, leaning in and giving her a kiss.

"Well, you did park well."

Mum flushed and gave him a smile that made Rose want to already be on the train and miles away. Luckily Hugo was too busy trying to stand on the back of the cart he'd just pushed to notice the soppy looks passing between her parents.

They reached the pillar for Platform Nine and Three-Quarters rather quickly, and Hugo pushed her cart through the barrier without prompting, which earned him a quick scolding from Mum for not looking for Muggles first.

The steam obscured most of the people bustling about the platform, making the gleaming red locomotive an even more majestic sight. The way the sun glistened and made the steam become shining white ribbons was perfectly entrancing.

Rose was pulled out of her stupor by the sound of Dad saying, "How about that last carriage?"

Mum and Hugo stayed next to the train and Rose and Dad boarded the train. He found her a compartment and put her trunk in the rack with a quick wave of his wand.

"Lots of memories on this train. It's where I met your Mum, Harry, and Neville."

"Yeah," said Rose, looking to her feet. She felt nerves tingling up her spine.

"You OK?" asked Dad.

Rose had so much she could say, but didn't know how she could possibly put it into words.

"Rosie?" said Dad rather quietly, sitting in one of the seats so he could look her directly in the eye.

She shook her head and suddenly felt her eyes begin to sting.

"I was nervous before I went to Hogwarts too, you know."

She gave him a skeptical look.

"Really, I was. I had five older brothers who had all done everything a person can do. They'd already been prefects, Head Boy, Quidditch Captain, and then the twins were about the funniest most popular people at the school. All I had was a nasty old rat for a pet, hand me down clothes, and the ability to play a mean game of chess."

"But you're a hero, Daddy," Rose let out. "You were fighting Voldemort in your first year!"

Dad looked surprised at her outburst, then gave her a smile.

"Is that what's worrying you?"

Rose stared at him with wide, pleading eyes.

"Rosie, you're my wild girl. You know how good you are at Quidditch, and how smart and pretty you are." Rose rolled her eyes at that last bit.

"How could you possibly be nervous when you have everything going for you?"

"I'll never be able to do what all you and Mum did."

"What? All I did was skate by with my grades, and all your Mum did was annoy everyone by being a know-it-all," he said with a laugh.

"Dad…" Rose said.

Dad adopted a very somber expression.

"No. You'll never be able to fight Voldemort, and thank God for that. I couldn't stand for my little girl to be off fighting trolls, camping with two teenage boys in the middle of a war, getting cursed at and tortured by Deatheaters…"

Dad looked out the window with a strange, slightly haunting look in his eyes.

"We did all that so you wouldn't have to, Rosie. Don't wish for anything like that."

Rose put her hand in his much larger one, which seemed to jolt him out of his reverie.

"I'll miss you, Daddy," Rose said.

"No you won't. You'll get so distracted by everything we'll have to remind you to write. But we'll surely miss you, Rosie."

He gave her braid a good-humoured tug.

They left the cabin together and went down the hallway.

"There you are!" Hugo popped out of nowhere; startling Dad and nearly making him slip down the steps of the train.

"You know you have to write to me and tell me about the people, and the ghosts, and the elves, and the portraits, and the stairs, and the spells! You'll have to tell us everything!"

"Well, not everything. A girl can afford a secret or two," said Mum with a smile, straightening Rose's robes. "I hope they get here soon, it's nearly time for the train to leave."

"I think that's them, Al," they heard Aunt Ginny's disembodied voice say in the mist.

They walked up to find Uncle Harry, Aunt Ginny, Al and Lily. James, who had a penchant for running off, was nowhere to be found.

"Hi," said Al, his thin face looking quite relieved to see Rose. She gave him a large smile. Knowing she already had a best friend with her at school, even if he was family, made her feel even more at ease.

She heard Dad say something about disowning her if she wasn't a Gryffindor, and though it was meant in a teasing fashion, she couldn't bring herself to laugh. Al looked every bit as dubious as she about the sorting.

"Look who it is," said Dad to Uncle Harry. "So that's little Scorpius."

Rose stood on her toes to try and finally see the name she had heard Uncle Harry and Dad laughing about a few times before, but all she could see was the tall figure Mr Malfoy and his pretty wife's dark hair. She had occasionally seen the Malfoys in Diagon Alley, but had never met their son.

She couldn't imagine anyone wanting to marry Mr Malfoy after all he did in The War, despite what Mum had said about forgiving him for the mistakes he made as a 'child.' The thought that such a man could have children made her shudder. He had even named his son something that sounded like a fatal disease, or terrible monster that would eat off children's toes.

"Make sure you beat him in every test, Rosie. Thank God you inherited your mothers brains," said Dad.

"Ron, for heaven's sake. Don't try to turn them against each other before they've even started school," Mum admonished.

"You're right, sorry," said Dad, before quickly adding, "Don't get too close too friendly with him, though, Rosie. Grandpa Weasley would never forgive you if you married a pureblood."

Rose intended on never speaking to the son of the Malfoys; that much she was very certain of. He'd probably be mentally subnormal too, so beating him at tests should prove to be very easy. As for marriage- the idea of ever marrying anyone was appalling. No one would ever be able to measure up to Dad, Granpa Weasley, and her assortment of Uncles. She never wanted to be married, unlike Lily and the other girls who had sets of dolls in wedding dresses and played house. She preferred playing with the boys, digging in the dirt, and playing Quidditch.

Now that she was standing in front of the train Rose was getting fairly desperate to board it. The curiosity was getting the better of her, and she also wanted to escape all the family talking about Hogwarts. Even though Dad had comforted her quite a lot, she could only think of how with every test they'd be expecting her to demonstrate her mother's intelligence and her father's ingenuity. Of course, her expectations were nothing compared to Al's, who looked so much like his father that strangers would occasionally look to his brow for the scar. Al was looking paler than usual today, and Rose assumed he was thinking about the Quidditch expectations. James hadn't ever seemed bothered by the same worries, which was an annoying habit of his.

"Hey!"

Interrupting conversations loudly was another slightly annoying habit of his.

"Teddy's back there. Just seen him! And guess what he's doing? Snogging Victoire!"

No one was particularly surprised besides James. Rose had already had a notion that the two of them were involved, considering how they'd been doing uncomfortably romantic things. Lily was the only one who actually had a reaction to the news. She had been planning Teddy-nuptials for years, and Victoire conveniently fit into her intricate plan for him to be officially adopted into the family.

"Time to get on board, Rosie," she heard her Mum say, as Uncle Harry and his boisterous family animatedly chatted off to the side.

"Bye Mum," Rose said, giving her a tight hug. "Any advice?"

"Just be yourself, no matter what," said Mum, placing a kiss on her cheek.

Hugo gave her an arm-numbing hug, before biting his lip so as not to be emotional. Dad was the last to step in and give her a hug.

"Just promise you'll blow all my grades clear out of the water, eh Rosie?" said Dad.

"I promise," Rose laughed, remembering how Mum had always said he would have made a great scholar if he weren't thoroughly uninterested in studying. Dad kissed Rose on the head, the turned her to the train carriage.

As she stepped onto the train, it gave a low whistle, and for a moment the steam coming from the locomotive blocked the sight of her many relatives, but out of the mist barreled James, and then Al.

"Why are they all staring?"

Rose looked about to that many people, both on and off the train were, unsurprisingly, staring at Uncle Harry. She had been used to this phenomenon for years now and had learned to ignore it, but for some reason it always made Al get agitated and take notice.

"Don't let it worry you. It's me. I'm extremely famous," Dad said with a quirked eyebrow, making them all laugh a bit. He always knew how to diffuse a situation with humour.

The train let out one last whistle before the train gave a small shudder and began to move.

Lily was starting to look red faced and upset as she waved; she'd be all alone this year, after all. Dad was holding up Hugo whose curly red hair merrily bounced with every wave of his hand. Not too far away from the crowd of her family, she spotted Teddy, his blue hair making him anything but inconspicuous. He seemed to be waving at another part of the train, though. He had a besotted look on his face, which meant he was waving at Victoire. Rose looked away, feeling embarrassed to intrude on this private moment between the couple.

James, who had gone off to see his friends, once again returned to the door. He gave furtive looks to make sure none of his friends were about, before wedging himself between Rose and Al, spastically waving and nearly hitting Rose in the face with his elbow. Al's spirit, which had been very uncertain earlier, seemed to have perked up.

Rose and Al were all smiles as they shouted their goodbyes.

"Bye Mum! Bye Dad! Bye Lily! Bye Uncle Ron! Bye Aunt Hermione! Bye Hugo! Bye Teddy! See you at Christmas!"

Mum threw a kiss to them and Dad gave a somewhat bittersweet grin he saved for 'His Rosie' every time she did anything that gave any indication she was growing up. The train began to pick up speed and the waving mass of redheads was lost amongst the crowd of other parents and siblings.

When the train rounded the corner, James gave a great stretch and patted them both on the back.

"Well, I'm off. Places to go. Funerals to arrange. See you at the execution— I mean the sorting ceremony!"

James was gone so fast neither Rose nor Al had time to utter a syllable back. The duo stood there, a bit like lost goslings, before returning to their compartment and taking a seat on either bench seat. Neither pair of feet quite reached the ground, though Rose's was considerably closer than Al's. Rose couldn't help thinking of the sorting ceremony thanks to James, and now the only thought occupying her mind was how she didn't want to disappoint her parents, especially Dad.

"Want to play some Exploding Snap?"

"No."

When Rose was younger she quite enjoyed the game. It's loud explosions were always fun to watch, but due to her large amount of wild hair, she hadn't been able to escape any explosion without at least one lock of hair on fire, which made her have very little affinity for the hazardous game. The fact that she was a fierce competitor and had never managed to win the game against anyone remotely good at it had no bearing on her loathing of the game.

"You just don't want to play because you can't win at it," Al teased, making Rose's cheeks turn a deep shade of red.

"That's not it at all," she said primly.

"It is!"

"Fine! Try and keep your eyebrows if you can!" she said with more bravado than she felt.

And so they played, she received yet another bad hand, and the smell of burning hair wafted around the cabin.

Rose was swatting at a particularly large flare when she noticed a small blonde figure, all in black, struggling to pull his trunk past their compartment door. His robes resembled the stuffy attires she'd seen some of the Grimmauld Place portraits wearing.

"Hah! That means I win again! It's a good thing we weren't playing for money, or you'd be completely bust, Rose!" Al laughed, rearranging the smoking deck.

They played another round or two. Rose had lost count of how many times he'd trumped her total, and was thinking of trying out her wand for the first time on his face. She was about to tell Al as much when the small blonde's head bobbed incredibly slowly past their compartment again. He was giving grunts of excursion as he dragged his large trunk behind him a second time. A frustrated look was plastered on his now pink-cheeked face.

Rose caught his eye for a moment. He quickly shifted his large grey eyes back to his trunk and dragged it away from their door as expeditiously as he could. Why didn't he have a compartment? The train had left the station over half an hour ago.

"It's your turn," Al prodded. How he hadn't noticed the boy outside their compartment, she wasn't quite sure.

"If you don't go soon, your cards are going to explode."

It couldn't have been easy for that blonde boy to lug his trunk up and down the passage, especially on his own. Perhaps she should go talk to him.

"Rose! Your deck!"

"What?"

With a loud bang her entire deck detonated, and purple tendrils of smoke blew into her face.

"Blast!" she coughed.

Rose exclaimed a few choice insults she'd heard from Dad, before sucking at her fingers that were burning something fierce.

"Whoever invented this game was completely mental!"

"Probably," Al agreed somberly.

"Want to play again?" Al asked, a wide satisfied grin on his face. He had somehow managed not to singe himself at all, while Rose looked like she had just escaped a burning building.

"No! I'd like to not be bald when we get sorted," Rose bit out, trying to separate the tips of her burnt locks that had fallen out of her braid.

"At the rate you were losing, you'd probably be bald in the next five minutes or so, yeah," he laughed, gathering up the scattered cards.

"I'm going to see where the food cart is!" Rose bit out, mostly as an afterthought, grasping for an excuse for a brief reprieve from the explosions and teasing.

She slid open the compartment door and saw the same blonde boy sitting on his trunk at the end of the train car's small corridor. He looked quite lonely reading the book in his lap, his old fashioned black cloak up to his chin.

Rose cleared her throat and he glanced up from his book in surprise, but then looked to some point on the floor behind her.

"Your robe is smoking," he said, pointing to the corner of her new robe that was indeed still slightly on fire.

Rose let out a yelp and beat at it with her hands before taking it off and stomping on it with her feet until the flames died out.

"I knew I shouldn't have played that stupid game," she said, giving the robe a small kick.

"Exploding Snap?" the boy queried.

"Yes."

"I'm not all that good at it either."

Rose felt a smile tug at the corner of her mouth.

"Though I don't think I've ever managed to lose quite that badly," he said with a smirk.

"Oh really?" Rose answered snippily.

"Not really. The last time I played Exploding Snap I burnt off my eyebrows and caught my father's owl on fire."

"You caught an owl on fire?"

"Yes," he nodded, giving her a small grin. "Only a few tail feathers, though."

She gave a hearty laugh in turn.

"That poor owl! Your parents must have been furious."

"Not as furious as Angeus."

"Angeus?"

"Our owl. He wouldn't deliver anything for a week." The boy gave her a playful beam she couldn't help but return.

"Why don't you come and sit with me and my cousin? We have plenty of room in there. He might try and pull you into a game of Exploding Snap, but besides that he's fine."

"Er… No," he said, turning back to his book, looking suddenly somber again. "That's ok. I'm fine here, really."

"What, in the corridor? You want to ride here the whole time? That's bloody daft," Rose giggled.

"I don't have much of a choice," he said with a furtive look to another compartment down the hall.

"Why? Do you have bad breath or something?"

"What? No!" He gave her an affronted look, before laughing.

Rose's mouth twitched in amusement, but she put a stop to it almost as suddenly as the impulse came upon her. Her eyes had fallen to his trunk, and she now knew full well why he couldn't find a compartment. His name was emblazoned with gleaming silver letters.

Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy

Scorpius saw her fixated gaze, and flicked his cloak over the incriminating text. His pale cheeks started to flush as Rose stared at him. This was the boy her father had warned her against. She had seen the looks pass between their parents whenever a Malfoy was mentioned. She knew the notorious reputation the Malfoys held and how no one in 'good society' would have a thing to do with them.

"Er… I said I'd check when the food cart is coming. Enjoy the rest of your book," Rose said with a perfunctory smile. She picked up her singed robe and turned on her heel. She was ready to sprint away when she heard a small sigh from behind her as he opened his book again.

She thought back to the unimposing figure of Scorpius struggling to find a cabin, his large trunk in tow, and embarrassingly stuffy robes. Rose had never been met with anything but well wishes and fond compliments about her parents. The idea of getting rejected just because of her heritage was a foreign and uncomfortable thought.

"I thought you were going to check on the food cart," he said quietly.

She had no idea how long she had been standing there, thinking, but she now felt thoroughly ashamed of herself.

"I'm not all that hungry… I just wanted an excuse to get away from my cousin."

"And me," Scorpius added in a very matter-of-fact tone.

"Yes, 'and you,'" she said shrugging. She looked down at her feet, embarrassed. He stared at her with an inscrutable expression that made her quite nervous.

"I've been told it's daft to sit in a hallway for the whole ride. I suppose standing there would count too," he said, before smiling at her in a sly sort of way.

"What's really daft is wearing those robes," Rose teased.

"What's wrong with them?"

"Nothing, if you're a vicar."

"Well, at least I managed to comb my hair today," he teased back.

"Ouch. That was ruthless."

"Yes, I thought so."

"It looked nice at one point."

"Of course."

"Rose Weasley," she said offering him a hand he took quite lightly before shaking.

"Scorpius Malfoy."

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#Taking a Shallow breath #fanfic #fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter fanfic #scorpius malfoy #rose weasley #romance #family #drama

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