#you would not believe the amount of sketches I have of them in casual clothes

[transhulklings]

POV: you are a freaky nyc rodent

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[whore4abby]

heyyyy vannyyyyyy i love u sm i promise i'm not being a lurker

what abt model reader and abby at like a designers party (yk the devil wears prada 👀)

i'm too obsessed with everything u write is there like a support group or something for whore4abby addicts

ferny fern ur brain !! this idea is so yummy 😵‍💫 i love u MORE !! thank u for this hope u don’t mind me switching it up a lil mwah mwah !! NO ONE would join that damn support group bffr wrote this at 3am let’s not talk abt it

high fashion;

kinda a part two of this !!

warnings; smut - sex in a public bathroom, strap-on usage (r!receiving), choking (with abby’s tie), mdni

wc; 1.7k

“abs…c’mon, baby…we gotta leave in a few minutes.” you call out to your wife who’s spent the last 30 minutes making sure she looks absolutely perfect, not one hair out of place in her braid, making sure her new tux was absolutely spotless.

“i’m coming, doll…gimme a minute.” she calls out softly and you laugh and roll your eyes playfully at her antics. the ongoing joke that she spends way more time getting ready than you do slowly but surely starting to become a reality.

you smooth out the fabric of your almost sheer, black satin dress and slip on your jimmy choo heels, grabbing your purse from the dresser before looking up just as abby walks out from the bathroom. you swear you feel your eyes turn into little heart shapes as you see her.

she looks nothing short of absolutely perfect in her sleek, tailored black tux paired with her shiny black dress shoes, her muscular forearms filling out the sleeves of her suit jacket and her long hair slicked back from her face. you're absolutely smitten as you rush over to press your lips against hers repeatedly, “god, you’re so pretty…” you sigh, words coming out as a breathless whisper as you press your face against her chest, closing your eyes and breathing in her familiar scent.

before you know it you’re gathered in a spacious studio for a small, intimate gathering of some couture designers to showcase their new up-coming works. you’re surrounded by mannequins displaying gorgeous designer clothes, along with an assortment of clothes scattered around the room, from elegant ballgowns to sophisticated suit jackets.

the windows are covered in velvet drapes, allowing a small amount of natural moonlight to flood the room. everyone whispering discreetly amongst themselves, scanning the surroundings and taking in all the lavish clothing and glittering accessories.

you wander off away from abby for a little while, you’re quietly minding your own business checking out some artist sketches that are carefully hung up on the wall when you feel a presence beside you. “beautiful aren’t they?” a heavily accented voice causes you to look away from the framed pictures and you turn your head to see a familiar italian designer.

“yeah…they’re gorgeous! are they for the new spring-summer collection?” you query, you head tilting curiously in his direction. “yes, that’s correct…these pieces should be out within the next couple of months.” he smirks and leans in closer to you.

“i was actually just thinking about you.” he places a hand on your shoulder and you resist the urge to shudder in disgust. “oh, please…i’m not that special.” you force a stiff laugh and shake your head, after all this time you still find it hard to believe that you have become a well-known, household named model.

“im serious! i saw you at that runway show a couple weeks ago…and let me say, it’s been driving me crazy ever since. ive been dying to get in contact with you-“ he chuckles, his gaze drifting down towards you body. he takes your hand in his, a cunning smile spreading wide as he leans in to kiss your cheek. you shake his hand curtly before pulling your hand back and jerking your face away from him.

he continues to flirt with you, his eyes finding yours and locking onto them. “perhaps you’d be interesting in catching a drink tonight?” he looks down at your shoulder and casually caresses it with his hand. “my hotel is just a couple blocks away, and i know you’re staying in the city the whole weekend. so whatdya say?”

you start purposely clinking your perfectly polished wedding ring against your half empty champagne glass, hoping he gets the hint. “i’ll actually be busy with my wife….in our own hotel room, thank you very much.”

you catch a glimpse of abby across the room, she instantly feels a pang of jealousy as she watches him openly flirt with her girl practically right in front of her face.

her brow begins to furrow and she discreetly ends the conversation she’s having and makes her way over to you, she obviously saw the guy kiss you, and she’s clearly not happy about it.

you watch his smile falter a little at the mention of your wife, and he directs his gaze towards abby as she approaches, obviously intimidated by her height and stature. “everything okay, my love?” she asks, her eyes still watching the designer. you lean in to kiss her briefly before pulling away and nodding, wrapping your arm around her bicep.

he finally gets the hint and laughs, taking a step or two back. “hmm, well isn’t that a shame?” he says with a grin. he turns to walk away, before stopping and turning back to face you. “well if you ever want to get in touch, here’s my card.” he holds out a small business card with his details on it and smiles at you, abby quickly pushes his hand away and speaks in a passive-aggressive manner, “my wife and i won’t be needing that, thank you.”

he laughs cockily, obviously slightly amused before turning on his heel and walking off to probably shamelessly flirt with another married woman.

abby leans into you, resting her head against yours, taking the champagne flute out of your hand and placing it on a nearby silver side-table. her eyes still watching the designer as he saunters away. “i don’t like how he was looking at you, darling.”

you roll your eyes at her comment, giggling slightly. “babe, calm down,” you say, squeezing her hand. you look over at her and smirk at her. “but you’re really the only one who i’ve got my eyes on, okay?”

“you’re mine…all fuckin mine~” her voice is rough, and she still can’t shake her jealousy from that designer looking at you. abby leans in and kisses you on the neck, her lips gently sucking and nibbling at the sensitive skin.

abby smiles wickedly at you, before grabbing you by the hand and quickly dragging you to the back of the boutique. you find yourself in a fancy, private bathroom and abby quickly locks the door behind you. she pulls you in for a heated kiss and you can feel her firm body pressing against yours.

abby’s tongue gently plays against yours, her hands caressing your face and your body, slowly pulling you closer to her. she bites down on your bottom lip slightly, but not hard enough to hurt you.

she pulls away for a second before diving back in, kissing you passionately and with more force than before. “all mine~” she whispers in your ear, her breath hot on your neck, her fingers finding their way down to hike your dress up over you ass, bending you over in the sink counter.

you hear the zipper of her pants being yanked down and the rusting of her shirt being untucked before she pulls your panties off your body and discards them onto the floor before nudging your legs apart with her knee.

you whine as she swipes the tip of the strap-on through your sticky folds, gathering up your slick before pressing the head of the dildo against your slit. “say it…tell me who's the only one who gets you this wet~” she pushes in slowly, groaning at the sight of your pussy greedily taking her cock. “you, abs…fuucck- only you!”

she thrusts herself fully inside without warning, all seven inches of black silicone right up to the hilt making you cry out, feeling every vein and ridge flush against the walls of your cunt. the stinging stretch causing your face to contort in a mixture of pleasure and pain as she pulls out until just the tip remains inside, then slams back in. she roughly manhandles you, slamming you back on her cock. “nnhhggg…a-abby~”

you hear her fumbling with something before you suddenly feel pressure around your throat, the silky material of her tie digs into your neck as she wraps it around your throat and yanks you back to make eye contact with her in the mirror. “look at me while im fucking you, yeah?” she growls through gritted teeth, her eyes dark and filled with jealousy fueled lust.

you’re gripping onto the marble counter so hard that your knuckles are starting to lose their colour, strangled moans leaving your lips, the perfectly applied lipstick now smudged around your mouth in messy splotches.

she drops the tie onto the counter and you gasp for some much needed air. she snakes her free hand down to rub at your clit lazily as she snaps her hips into yours at an eye-rolling pace. “a-abby! oohhh…my god…fuck…” the fingers of her unoccupied hand dig into your hip, holding you in place as she starts to pound into you relentlessly, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoing in the small bathroom.

she groans, picking up the pace, the friction from the harness against her clit making her moans grow louder and more desperate, hips grinding into you in-between thrusts as she chases her own release.

you thighs start to clench and shake as her pace picks up even more, leaving you gasping and grabbing at any surface you can find to ground yourself. “you feel that? only i can make you cum like this, yeah?” you’re babbling incoherently as the the head of her cock keeps bumping into that sweet spot until it has you letting out a loud pleading cry as you cum on her cock.

she keeps thrusting, prolonging your release as she helps you ride out your own orgasm, her thick fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise.

“fuuccckk~” she pants heavily, leaning forward to rest her head against your back, the harness still grinding against her clit and making her cum hard whilst still buried inside you.

she lets out a loud groan as she pulls out with a pop, looking down at the mess between your legs and the cum dripping from your clenching cunt. you turn back to face her and she brings your mouths together in a brief, heated kiss before pulling away and carefully helping you clean yourself up.

she tucks her strap-on back into her pants and neatens her tux up before picking up your discarded panties and shoving them into her pocket before holding her arm out for you to take. “c’mon, baby~” her chivalrous action a stark contrast to the way she just fucked you into oblivion not even five minutes ago.

you smile coyly, adjusting your dress and grabbing onto her forearm as she leads you out of the bathroom and back out into the main studio space, not even caring about the skeptical looks and the un-approving stares of the people around you.

an; model!reader has me in an absolute chokehold right now😵‍💫if u have any ideas for more PLSSS leave me a request !!!!

[messinwitheddie]

Have any tutorials of how you draw your tallest? (Or irkens in general?)

If Cini could wear any human casual clothing, what would he wear that is comfortable?

If he had it his way, would Cini change the life of Irken society?( you know with the whole tall and short thing.) or change everything with the empire expansion. We know their people must have many enemies with other alien races but if there was an alternative to that and not concur or go to war with them, would Cini be that one Tallest to break that cycles? I mean he looked tired of being tallest.

I'm not the best teacher. My drawings are pretty inconsistent. The best I can explain my process is, make a mark, erase a mark, rinse, repeat until it looks like a figure.

These were drawn super quick. Not sure how much help they'll be, but I tried to leave in as many reference lines in as possible.

These are some sketches on how I approach drawing a tallest with the typical JV bone-skinny body frame

The torso is where I struggle the most. I probably draw them too tall, but that's how it comes out.

It's fun to experiment with different body types;

From left to right; Tallest Spittle, Greezee and Blitz

From left to right: Tallest Miyuki, Dava and Kii

I have a tendency to draw women tallests with big hips (because that's fun for me), but Irkens really don't have gender dimorphism, and their fashion/ clothing styles are all unisex, so there's no need to follow that rule when you design your own ocs.

I would have to look through my blog to find any posts about how I draw smaller Irkens. Mostly same advice.

As far as Cini's choice in comfortable human clothing; his robes are very uncomfortable, so anything would feel comfy by comparison.

But I imagine he would immediately gravitate towards those flimsy tie dye sun dresses you see in those little hippie boutiques at the mall. Tie dye is something he would never have seen in the empire plus so many swirls and colors!

He would have a field day dress shopping. Most human male clothes would be too lacking in flair.

And to address the third question; Irkens are brainwashed at birth into believing their height based hierarchy is the natural and correct way for their society to operate and have been brainwashed into believing this for MILLIONS and millions of years.

I'm not sure if it's within the limits of his imagination to conceive a reality where Irkens did not serve a tallest who carried out the will and executed the design of the control brains.

BUT Cini wished from the moment he was measured someone, ANYONE else had been measured taller than him. His favorite partabout being tallest was lounging and smoking record breaking amounts of pipe amber.

His passion was his trapeze act and watching performances at the civilian theater. No "important" occupation really appealed to him when he was a cadet; too boring, not enough fun music and visuals. He only served in the military because all Irkens are required to go through basic training. His stats were a joke as far as his height bracket went. He stayed the same rank for almost 200 years.

Cini tried as hard as he could to be a good tallest, as much as his imposter syndrome made it for him. MOST of his reign was actually spent improving infrastructure within the empire's existing territories. He was a generous patron of the arts and sciences (beyond military research). Service drones legally received more off time and better medical benefits. Cini avoided brute force unless absolutely necessary. He loved to play ambassador. The Vortians, the Space Bees, the Inquisitorians, ect all became official allies of the Irken Armada during Cini's rule. He genuinely took the time and effort to listen to their concerns and compromise.

Cini was wise enough to know it's better to make friends than enemies in the long game, especially unnecessarily. The empire wasn't perfect, but Irkens and alien citizens alike enjoyed a higher quality of living under Cini's leadership methods.

It wasn't until the very end of his reign did he declare a war. He did so because of pressure forced down on him by the control brains, who were intimidated by the corrupting freedoms the lesser drones seemed to be enjoying and deeply concerned by the lack of new conquests that have been made over the centuries.

The Irken/ Planet Jacker war was bloody from the very beginning.

Cini would not live down the shame of his decision. Too many casualties on his conscience.

Every drone is worthy of dignity; Cini believed that. He would change A LOT about Irken society if he could. He tried. He wish he had tried harder.

[dancingamongstdust]

I always love to read headcanons from others, so how about some about Kagekao and Bloody Painter? ^^

Of course! I've done some fairly general ones about the characters so I hope you enjoy.

(Also, I'm trying out banners - I wanna see how they look)

* Helen really doesn’t like animals. He considers them messy and doesn’t see the purpose in keeping them.

* Helen often uses his own blood in his art. It’s strongly due to his arrogance – he believes that few have blood of a high enough quality. If it was sustainable, he would use his own exclusively.

* Attics are Helen’s comfort spaces. There’s something about the dusty air and the general quietness that relaxes him.

* He doesn’t like areas that are too open, it makes him feel like something’s watching him or something bad is coming.

* Helen’s never minded discussing the past. He speaks about it as though it’s a scene from a movie with complete detachment. If he’s pushed about how he feels about the events, he tends to just shrug. They’re not something he considers important enough to waste thought or energy on.

* He destroys a surprising amount of his own art. While he’s working, he’ll just space out and badly damage the canvas. Or he’ll decide that he hates how it’s looking and just break it in half, throwing the remains in a corner.

* Surprisingly, his favourite colour is blue. He’s surrounded by bright and warm tones for the majority of the day so cooler hues are a nice break.

* He doesn’t sketch out his paintings before he works on them. Often, he doesn’t even plan out what he wants to paint.

* The idea of a muse annoys him. He deserves credit for his work, not some other entity.

* His favourite part of the human body is the jaw. He loves painting it and running his fingers along the bone that’s there.

* He does enjoy painting on skin. It’s not a sexual interest (although it could probably develop into something along those lines) but rather an appreciation of the human body as a medium.

* Though anti-social, he doesn’t hate people. He actually enjoys talking to them though he doesn’t develop attachments.

* He doesn’t sign his artwork but his style is distinct enough to identify his work.

* The more supernatural entities of the world aren’t of interest to him. He knows that they exist and has encountered them before but he prefers to just ignore them. They’re dangerous enough to meet casually and he finds minimal benefit in attempting to get involved with their world.

* Helen likes classical music. There’s not too much of a surprise there.

* If he could, he would live in a very modern home with large windows. He really loves the style and he often thinks that in another life, his main goal would be to get one.

* Helen is the kind of guy that can survive off like two hours of sleep a night. He goes several days without eating sometimes and it never seems to have a negative effect on his mood or health.

* He doesn’t sleep well when he does get around to it. This is mainly due to him almost never bothering to sleep on a bed or a mattress. He has a couch that’s covered in blood and paint stains and that’s good enough for getting some rest.

* Helen is comfortable in solitude but sometimes thoughts of his mind drifts to wistful daydreams of company.

* Despite a love for wine, Kagekao doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth. Desserts hold little appeal to him and too much sugar in his food can quickly bring about a pretty bad headache.

* Kagekao understands that without a mask on, he looks quite unnerving. He often considers using this disturbing appearance when he’s tormenting people but often can’t bring himself to do it. He brushes it off as being boring, even in his own head, and will boast that he has no problems with his own appearance.

* If he has time, he’ll often break into clothing stores to just try things on and leave a mess strewn about for whoever finds it next.

* His laughter is actually very unintimidating, being almost cute when heard by itself. He’s taken great efforts to ‘fix’ this problem and now only laughs like that when something genuinely catches him off guard.

* He laughs when he gets badly hurt. It’s his reflex reaction even if the injury is bad enough that he can see the bone sticking out.

* He’s always curious to see how far he can push normal people before they get hurt.

* He struggles to read in English. Like he can speak and understand the language just fine but for some reason, his brain hiccups when it comes to reading it.

* He’s very clumsy. It’s part of his act now but bumping into things and breaking them was originally accidental. He would bump his head on doors while he was crawling around and fall through windows. These incidents have permanently marked his body in scars.

* Despite being a demon, he doesn’t have rapid healing or anything like that.

* Kagekao doesn’t know much about his life-state. He understands that he’s a demon but exactly what that entails is beyond his knowledge. His suspicion is that he’s immortal, able to get damaged but not die, but he can’t bring himself to try this.

* He’s faster than most people, especially if running normally. The scurrying actually slows him down but it is creepier.

* Getting him properly annoyed is difficult. You would have to be trying very hard to accomplish it.

* He has many fond memories of his parents and can’t remember their deaths. He tries not to think about it – avoiding the knowledge that he was responsible.

* Being tied down to one location is his worst nightmare. He enjoys moving about and having his freedom too much.

* He really loves going to the cinema and watching movies. It's got an additional bonus of allowing him to freak out other patrons who spot him sitting on the ceiling.

* It took him a while to learn how to eat upside down.

* Once, Kagekao found himself wondering if his demonic nature would benefit from attempting to eat human flesh. This didn't go well at all and he was badly ill for weeks. He likes to pretend that the entire situation was a bad dream.

* He often wonders (occasionally, hopes) if his entire situation is a bad dream.

[arieswonjin]

open seams; full

pairings: ham wonjin x femme!reader

genre: fluff, angst, friends to lovers au 

word count: 8.6k

navigation: teaser 

warnings: alcohol and intoxication, use of sharp objects, minor injury

song inspo: all my love | playlist 

a/n: this is for a fic exchange with @cravitywriters' first batch of members :> apologies this came a bit late >

masterlist | request here! | how to request |

it took close to forever to find the perfect spot for the shop of your dreams. in this city and in these times, it took a lot of guts to even decide to run one. 

the rent uptown was crazy expensive and the high-fashion atmosphere dimmed the charm of your minimalist garments. the spots downtown were cheap, yes, but you had to deal with creaky and moldy floors, noisy air conditioning, and rude neighbors. it was a definite no-go. but after months and months, with pages of crossed-out vacancy lists and even deeper sighs, you found just the perfect home for your handmade pieces.

the small studio was a few minutes away from the main street and the subway station. the road it was on was lined with street art on both sides, there was decent foot-traffic, and a good number of cars passing by—a haven for independent brands. plus, the landlady who lived upstairs was a middle-aged woman who, as it seemed, made it a habit to bring you her homemade rice cakes almost daily. you liked to think that this, along with the reasonable rent, was a bonus from fate. 

you found the place on a random walk with a close friend. it was his idea—wonjin said you needed some fresh air after only having fruitless searches for weeks. at least that’s what you thought he meant by “go home and shower, at least,” and “c’mon, let’s go on a walk before you start to have nightmares about landlords.” who would’ve thought you’d find this place when you weren’t even looking? 

the meager amount you saved up from commissions and tips while you took up different part-time jobs and sold custom pieces was enough to pay for a few months as you got your new brand established. the place wasn’t much—just enough to hold five racks of clothes, a tiny storage room, a display area, a bit of walking space—and you had to rely on your old equipment for now, but you already loved the shop dearly because it was your own. 

it took a lot of heart, a lot of meals consisting of just ramyeon, a lot of needle pricks…

and a very willing model.

“ow!” a cry of pain followed by a trail of childish laughter from the same person echoed off of the walls of your empty shop. it was almost evening and the clear glass door let in a ray of orange sunlight, shining over rolls of fabric, spools of thread, and several sketches that littered your shop’s floor. it was the typical scene: you with your eyebrows furrowed in focus and your noisy yet undoubtedly helpful friend wonjin with unsewn fabric and pins over his own clothes as he stood on a small platform. even your bickering was part of the routine you’ve established the past few weeks as you prepared for opening day. seven days left!

“i’m sorry!” you withdrew the hand holding the tiny culprit, looking closely at the spot on wonjin’s shoulder which you pricked. “i promise i’ll be done in a quick minute. maybe if you put your phone down for a while…” you muttered the last part, meaning for him to hear it anyway. inside, you were thankful that he has been patient with you as you did your thing, but you just couldn’t resist an opportunity to jab at ham wonjin with your remarks. after such, he was nearly impossible to shut up.

but that’s just wonjin being wonjin and that’s what always made you want him around. 

“y/n, i came to be your volunteer model, not a pin cushion.” he jabbed back and teased you, waiting for the reaction he now memorized and repeatedly coaxed out of you just for kicks: a roll of the eyes followed by a swing of the hand aimed at him which you never followed through with. nonetheless, he fake-dodged on instinct and laughed, as you knew he would.   

“stay still or i’ll prick you intentionally, wonjin.” 

“‘young male found pricked to death by owner of up-and-coming clothing brand…’ imagine that headline.” he trailed off and now stayed still as he chatted you up. you appreciated this, the light and familiar company as you worked to enter the unfamiliar territory that is your new business. you shook your head at his nonsense and smiled to yourself. 

it was only when you locked the final stitch that evening that you leaned back and realized just how long your day has been—your eyes and back were sore, your hands were all tight and in need of a break, and your head refused to recall your designs anymore. your body was telling you to wrap the day up. 

“what do you want?” you sighed and opened one of your eyes after a satisfying stretch. wonjin was standing in front of you with his palms extended and an unreadable expression on his face. what did he want? 

“your hands. hurry.” a momentary pause with your mind almost going blank. my hands?  “i want to try that thing you do with your knuckles when you’re done with work.” he finally stepped forward and grabbed both of your hands, making you take a few seconds to comprehend what he meant. it must be the exhaustion that’s making your brain function slower than it usually does. or maybe it’s this proximity. 

“you mean cracking them?” you asked as you looked up at him from your seat. 

“mhmm.” wonjin started to crack your knuckles one by one, commenting on how loud the sound from each finger was. this was an absurd scene, really, but you couldn’t deny how amusing it was to watch him and how such a simple gesture relieved a good amount of your tiredness. 

“tsk.” it was all you could say after he cracked the last pinky, his hands lingering on yours a few seconds after. “okay, that’s enough, you’re going to injure me,” you grunted as you stood up and walked past him towards the storage room, hiding a now pink face. 

“opening day is in exactly a week.” wonjin thought aloud as he started to pick up the clutter on the floor. “that’s still a lot of time, you know. why don’t you take tomorrow off? go to a sauna or something.” he offered the idea even though he knew so, so well that you were going to be fast to turn it down. it was too bad that you had no plans of pausing until opening day. maybe then he would’ve found the time to show you a little something he was working on. it was worth a shot, he thought. i’ll give it a few more days. 

“no can do. i still have to work on jungmo’s piece. you’re bringing him over tomorrow, right?”

“if the free barbecue for us is still up… then, yes.” wonjin beamed, proud that he landed a good deal after convincing one of your friends to model for you. honestly, you believed the effort he’s been exerting for you and your shop was worth far more than a barbecue treat, but he insisted that he would accept nothing more than that. 

ham wonjin always had a knack for being thoughtful without being obvious about it and it has indeed grown on you although you were quite slow to admit it to yourself. 

“i’ll tell him to brace for the pin pricks.” 

“pft.” you rolled your eyes at him and started to help clear out the shop before both of you got ready to leave. “let’s get coffee before walking home? it’s on me.” with a casual ruffle of wonjin’s hair, a silent thanks from you to him, met with a subsequent shake of his head to rearrange it, you closed the shop up with an unexpectedly light heart.

it was just another one out of many nights you spent walking home to the same neighborhood and it went by as it always did—seeing the bold words and symbols spray-painted on the walls of the street you were in, hearing him tell you about how cool they looked at night to which you responded as enthusiastically, pointing out newer and smaller details every time you walked past them—yet it never got old or boring.

silently, you wished the next seven days would unfold perfectly, just like how things were then and there in that small city street. 

help, he’s been talking about you since we sat down. come quickly.

a text message from jungmo pulled you out of your sleepy train of thought as you stood on the crowded subway, three stops away from your destination: to a breakfast cafe where you planned to meet with wonjin and jungmo before working on the piece for your new model. 

from a face that was barely awake came a blush that’s been finding its way there quite often recently. you’ve been trying to send away your suspicions that you were growing fonder and fonder of wonjin and your attempts would usually be successful if not for text messages like this. a fraction of the blame for your confusion goes to your friends for their persistent hints and teases. they may as well be just that: meaningless hints and empty teases stemming from the constant bickering that your friends found cute and endearing. the fact that you and wonjin were almost joined at the hip for the past few months didn’t help. neither did his clinginess which you suddenly start to look for on days he was too busy with his own matters to drop by. 

the casual offers to walk you home, the few seconds he spends wordless and silent when you get too close as you worked on his pieces, or the smallest gestures to help you out with the shop were all subjected to your overthinking. but nevermind all that. you didn’t have plans of telling anyone about this anyway. a short reply would suffice for now.

bleh. i’m almost there.

your face glowed as you got closer and closer to the cafe. no one would have been able to tell that you were stressing over a million little things about the imminent opening day. for reasons you couldn’t put a finger on, you wanted to at least overhear a hint of what wonjin was saying about you before you sat down and kept a straight face in front of him again. anything; the smallest compliment, the most mundane story about how you spent time together, anything that could fuel you up for the next few days knowing that thoughts of you lived in his head too. all that after denying to acknowledge any feelings. way to be fickle, y/n, you thought to yourself. 

entering the packed and brightly-decorated cafe, you approached the two friends who’ve already ordered their meals. huh, thanks a lot. from behind the booth table they picked out, you slowed down, planning on intentionally not making your presence known until you were almost seated. 

your face dropped the very second their conversation reached earshot. 

“it’s beginning to become burdensome. i don’t think we even match. it’s never going to happen. just a few more days and i swear—i’m done,” you heard this in wonjin’s unmistakable voice, with a tone of annoyance that went straight through your chest. 

“i see.” jungmo nodded and the two continued digging into their breakfast, still unaware of your arrival. 

you took this as an opportunity to turn your heels and retrace your steps to the subway station, sending jungmo a quick text before you wallowed in your scattered thoughts. you felt the heat radiating from your face but now for a much different reason.

if there were two things you hated the most in the world, it was being lied to and unnecessarily troubling the people you cared about. it felt worse hearing both from wonjin’s mouth. this was the same person who’s been there for you for months while you built the shop from the ground up, the same person who’s seemingly been helping you unconditionally. you were at a loss about who to blame: yourself for not noticing how much your shop was demanding from him or wonjin for keeping all this pent-up annoyance behind your back.

last night, when you imagined how the rest of your week would pan out, you didn’t expect to see yourself inside a packed subway train, desperately keeping your tears from pouring. 

“that’s weird. y/n just said she went directly to the shop instead. urgent.” jungmo perked up at your sudden message, eyes on his phone as he ate the last slice of his pancake.

“what? y/n didn’t text me anything after she said she was a station away. she would’ve told me.” wonjin looked around the cafe, sure that jungmo was mistaken and half-expecting to see you meters away from their table. “i already ordered for her though…”

“she’s asking me to come by quickly so she can finish fitting the pieces. it won’t take until lunch, right?” jungmo’s question went unnoticed as a now preoccupied wonjin kept his eyes on the untouched plate in front of him. 

“so stubborn, tsk. really can’t get her hands off her work. one of these days she’s going to get sick. and you know she lives alone so—”

“dude. now that we’re back to y/n, you’re chattering again. just finish your food so i can go get fitted.” 

wonjin sighed and furrowed his eyebrows, inwardly worried about your sudden change of plans and ready to nag at you for not giving yourself even the slightest break. what is she doing not giving herself even half an hour for breakfast? this fool.

there was barely any room for the sound of the shop’s door chimes, which signaled the two’s arrival, with wonjin’s trail of nags starting before he was even entirely inside. hearing all this from the storage room where you were distracting yourself by reorganizing your fabrics, you let out a deep sigh and hoped your eyes did not look too red and swollen before you stepped out. this is stupid, you thought. you had no time for delays but your emotions were getting the best of you. if you were going to finish your work, it had to be without him.

“y/n, at this rate you’re going to tire yourself out and get sick on opening day. we agreed last night you’d be at the cafe to at least stuff yourself with this before the long day,” wonjin took no breaths in between, placing the paper bag containing your forgotten breakfast on top of your work counter. “then suddenly you say you aren’t going anymore. did the racks arrive early? why did you suddenly—“ 

“thanks for coming, jungmo.” you greeted the older male, cutting off wonjin's monologue without even looking at him. jungmo just nodded and shrugged, obviously used to the dynamic between his two friends who were in front of him. he simply sat down on one of the wooden stools and started keeping himself busy with his phone. you felt bad that he had to be caught in the middle of this, but between confronting your feelings and doing what had to be done for the shop, you were sure you were much more ready to do the latter. “this won’t take that long, don’t worry.”

“did you hear me just now…? sit down and eat first, y/n.” wonjin started to sense that something was up with the way you paced around busily as you got your materials ready and purposely avoided his eyes.    

“i thought i texted you not to come,” a muttered statement was finally sent his way—a weak acknowledgment of his presence—but you were still looking at anything but him. from your peripheral vision, you saw wonjin getting his phone out to check what you meant. 

“huh… i didn’t see that…” his usual speaking volume started to drop, a sign that you knew meant he was genuinely puzzled.

“now that you have…” you kept a straight face and mustered the heart to look at him, trying to act as nonchalant as you could even though you knew that the next words out of your mouth were not you. “go home. or somewhere else, at least… spare yourself the burden of being stuck here again.”

“what are you talking about?” he started to laugh to try and lighten up the rising tension, a habit of his. is this some kind of prank? he thought to himself and searched your expression for some giveaways. “is jungmo replacing me?” when he saw that you weren’t laughing along, he paused.  

“no time for questions, okay, wonjin? it’s time to go, i need to get to work and this isn’t helping. please go.” it took everything in you to keep yourself calm and collected and you didn’t know how many more questions you could dodge. why am i being so emotional, damn it.

“what do you mean ‘go?’” wonjin tried to laugh again, albeit a softer, less confident one. “this shop’s practically home... did something happen on the way here?” 

“go as in...you don’t need to drop by anymore. i’m almost done with everything.” a total lie.

“i know you’ll do well by yourself, y/n, but you know i don’t mind helping. it’s not a big deal.” wonjin reassured, stepping forward as if this would prove his point. to your annoyance, he went on to bring your takeout breakfast out of its bag and proceeded to prepare the food on your work counter, all the while nagging at you for being the stubborn person you were. “it must be the hunger, y/n. come here and eat.”

you, on the other hand, kept your distance and contained a painful laugh. it was almost funny comparing what you heard earlier to the words he was saying right now. what was he playing at?  “it must be tiring, huh? just go, okay? you don’t need to do all this. no one’s forcing you. i’ll be fine here.” 

he sighed. “just tell me what’s going on. pushing me away like this when i don’t know what i’ve done? you’re being a bit hurtful right now,” wonjin’s last strands of patience were barely keeping him together, matching your slowly rising temper.

“trust me, i’ve heard worse. go.” your gaze pierced through him for a good few seconds until jungmo, who’s been slowly realizing that things were getting serious, pulled wonjin away before he blurted things out in frustration. the way wonjin looked right now was as if his questions were visibly jumping out of him. there’s never been an exchange this intense between the two of you no matter how much you bickered and everyone in the room knew it. 

reaching his limit, wonjin shook free from jungmo and briskly walked out of the shop, leaving a strange silence after the chimes died down. 

the next couple of days consisted of wonjin keeping himself from going back to the shop and you trying to dodge jungmo’s probing questions as you worked. even after countless attempts to rethink what he did that day, he was still clueless about what prompted you to deny any help or to avoid him entirely. the years of friendship you had meant that he knew you were not the type of person to dismiss others without any good reason. 

but his pride went head to head with his worry and this led him to spend consecutive late nights with unsent messages, apologies written and deleted, calls not made, and questions not asked. after all, what was he going to apologize for? if anything, he believed he deserved an apology for being sent away without explanations. with this thought, wonjin would pull on his hair in frustration because of how childish he sounded in his head. 

just when i thought things were going well between us. just when he was ready to tell you how, with your passion and perseverance and, he admitted, maybe a bit of your friends’ little remarks on how you two looked good together, you’ve slowly made a friend fall for you in the span of the past few months. 

“okay, get this. there’ll be new collections every month and they’ll all be themed after the zodiacs. but i wonder if i can come up with pieces that fast? or how about i do quarterly collections? maybe that’ll be better, releasing three designs altogether…i just wonder if i can keep that up for the whole year. would anyone even show up to buy my stuff? what do you think? god, i don’t even have a name for my shop yet.” 

several months ago, when the shop still seemed out of reach and it felt impossible to settle on a place to start your business, you would cheer yourself up by picturing the ideal: your shop all decked and ready, packed with people shopping for your new collections, appreciating the hours of hard work that went into each handmade piece. with every spurt of excitement, wonjin would just be the constant cheerleader and voice of reason, both supporting you and bringing you back down to reality.

“why are you looking at me like that, ham wonjin?” you turned to get a view of the boy seated beside you on the bus stop, an uncharacteristically wordless wonjin, his head slightly tilted away with a downward gaze at you, an amused look on his face. the day was almost coming to an end, a full day spent walking around town, lists of units for rent on hand.  

“nothing. i think that’s a good idea.” he smiled and looked up to think. “but it sounds like you’ll be wearing yourself out. what about doing monthly collections when you find more help?” 

“you’ve got a point.” you considered this but you were nonetheless excited about the potential this little shop holds.  “anyway, let’s go. i still have a lot of open seams to sew.” 

“open seams.” wonjin repeated.

“yeah, the unfinished pieces. remember? the shop? me? sewing? clothes?” you teased, acting out every word like a mime. 

“no, dummy. open seams. the name of your shop. it sounds catchy doesn’t it?” it was wonjin’s turn to get excited and your turn to find amusement in his enthusiasm. “didn’t you say open seams look unfinished but that’s what gives them the edge?” 

“wow, i can’t believe you actually listen to me blabber about seams.” 

wonjin whined at this, defending himself and saying that he always listened. you said the new name, again and again, testing out how it felt to say and how it sounded. “open seams. it does sound great...” 

that hug out of nowhere and the strong tug at his hand pulling him towards the bus that just stopped in front of the both of you was all he could remember as he walked home that night. the very next morning after that encounter, he set off to a certain street art-lined street with your shop in mind after finding an online listing for a vacancy that was just the perfect price, the perfect size, and on the perfect street that would soon be housing your pieces of art. 

pulling his mind back to the present and attempting to keep it from wandering to you again, he made himself busy with the only other thing he had going on: the last few days of a low-paying multimedia job he impulsively committed to and is now regretting. he stretched in his chair, his phone kept in place with his cheek and shoulder.

“how’s that media job you were talking about the other day? still a burden?” jungmo’s calls have been the only thing keeping wonjin in touch with what’s going on in the shop. even if he didn’t ask, the reliable hyung kept him up to date with the last set of preps and your occasional breakdowns. 

“it’s a definite no-match. i’ve got three days left and i just want to make a run for it.” wonjin looked at all the uninteresting piles of manuals haphazardly stacked on his home desk, a reflection of how much he despised working this job from home. truth be told, he would much rather be working with you downtown. “how are things?”

“you mean, how’s y/n?” 

“you know what i mean.” 

“she’s out to eat with yuna right now after refusing a hundred times. we’re staying with her until tonight, though, so don’t worry.”

“alright.” wonjin sighed, feeling powerless that he was of no help to ease your load yet still refusing to do anything about it. 

“just talk to each other, for god’s sake! you both sound terrible-” jungmo shouted through the phone, pleading to his younger friend. “do you even know how many times i tried to ask y/n about what happened between you two? seventy-seven times, wonjin. seventy-seven times. yes, i counted-”

“i’m hanging up.” wonjin tossed the phone away making it land somewhere among the stack of items on his messy desk. a few seconds after he rudely ended the call, a text message from a persistent jungmo. dinner still on tonight. you have to come with us, dude. 

you didn’t know what came over you. there were only three days left until your shop’s opening day. there were still several patterns to cut up, clothing pieces that needed to be sewn together, and more people to invite for your brand to gain traction, yet you were here at a nearby barbecue place, giving in to your friends’ requests for you to let loose for a few hours with a couple of shots of alcohol, good food, and conversations that held until several hours after midnight. 

anyone would’ve noticed how tense you’ve become in a span of a few days—from the tired yet happy y/n who’s excited to get to work every morning despite the imminent deadline to an irritable, downcast y/n who wouldn’t keep their eyes and ears off of their work and nothing else. 

and yes, everyone knew the reason behind this sudden change in work attitude.  it was an open secret: the sudden and unexplainable drift between you and wonjin, previously an inseparable pair of friends, and both of your unwillingness to patch it up. your friends decided that mentioning it to either of you was just like nudging a rock on the side of a cliff, especially with an important occasion happening soon. 

for wonjin, there was a mix of pride and confusion. why were you suddenly pushing him away when he was closer to you than he ever was? he never left your side as you built your shop from the ground up only for you to passive-aggressively refuse any further help a week before opening day. he deserved a proper explanation, but he would almost worry himself into sleep deprivation thinking about how important opening day was to you. it was either he asked you directly and tip the delicate mind balance you had as you got things in order or he could wait it out and almost go crazy at the mere thought of not hearing a peep from you. 

for you, it was pure disappointment. in yourself or him, you were not sure. all you wanted was to stay sane for the time being and you told yourself that this was only possible if you didn’t see or hear him anywhere near you. you’ve heard how he truly felt, you heard it crystal clear, so there was nothing else to talk about. after all, if he saw you as a burden, why push any further? 

so alas, there you were, with a small group of friends and a whole night to spend without any of your handmade pieces or clothed mannequins.  

slow down? you repeated in your head once you heard jungmo and yuna’s invitation to tonight’s mini get-together. slowing down just made you remember how dull the days have been ever since you sent wonjin away that morning. stupid, talkative, playful wonjin who gave you the best, most comforting company. slowing down made you miss him, but you weren’t going to say that out loud. 

this was probably what the sober you would have thought, but your slurred speech and buffering mind, now clouded with the two bottles of alcohol you’ve consumed that night, begged to differ. you were now in a state of zero filter and total unawareness of the faces swimming around you.

“burdensome? tsk. so i was burdensome to him, huh?” you laughed bitterly and roughly downed another shot of soju, using the back of your hand to trap any spills from your lips. “idiot. wonjin is an idiot. if you didn’t want to stay close to me, just tell me, damn it!” you shouted, repeatedly stomping your feet on the floor like a child.

your incoherent sentences, flushed cheeks, and unfocused eyes were what welcomed wonjin when he arrived at your table, half-jogging. jungmo, who has been carefully watching you since you asked for your second bottle, gave him an apologetic look and shrugged, gesturing to the empty bottles in front of you. “look, i know you refused to come and eat dinner with us but i had to call you. you live the closest to y/n.” 

wonjin shook his head and laughed, half in disbelief and half in amusement. and here he thought he was going to spend his night cooped up with work to get you out of his head. “has she been calling me names all night?” 

“you have no idea. good luck.” he patted wonjin’s back and watched as he pulled you up from your seat, 

“let’s go, y/n. you can continue talking shit about me on the way home, okay?” wonjin’s tone was gentle as if he was testing the waters. the last thing he wanted was for you to lash out at him then and there. first, he needed to get you home. you two can talk some other time. hopefully.

“who’s this purple-haired clown? why is your hair purple like wonjin’s? are you his twin? is that idiot your twin?” it was a surprise you even managed to get those words out in between hiccups. 

“idiot? you’re the idiot, getting drunk like this.” wonjin muttered under his breath. he still struggled to pull you up and support your body weight but what he found was that the best way to keep you conscious was to indulge you in conversation.

 and that he did as he walked you to the usual bus stop where you two always sat and waited for the last trip.

“…if you see him around, tell him this for me.” you started, unknowingly leaning your head on his shoulder, giving into the heaviness you felt around your temples. in your drunken state, you genuinely thought you were talking to a pure stranger. 

“hmm?” wonjin looked down at you, softening as he saw you with your eyes tightly shut as you repressed nausea. “what should i tell him?  

“tell him—tell him i need to know how to forget him… he needs to tell me— how to do that…even for just a few days… okay? you’ll tell him?” there was no way you could have stopped your subconscious from pouring out. it was the truth told as it was: all you wanted was to get through the next few days without the hassle of whatever emptiness it was that you felt.  

“why don’t you tell him yourself?” wonjin let his head lean against yours, sighing the millionth sigh between the both of you since a few days ago. “and what if he doesn’t know how to do that either, with you?” 

“why do you have so many questions?!”  you grabbed his arm and shook it non-stop, making him laugh at how ridiculous you looked and sounded with your unfocused eyes and the non-sense you were spouting. “don’t ask me questions because i don’t know, okay?! i just miss ham wonjin!”

wonjin froze for a few seconds, simply blinking at you and at the words you were saying over and over again. when he finally recovered, he calmed you down and leaned your head on his shoulder again. “he says he feels the same way.”

a head-splitting ache woke you up at ten in the morning the next day, only two days before the most awaited opening day. the last thing you remembered from last night was being halfway through your second bottle of soju and your friends jungmo, yuna, and serim telling you to slow down. it didn’t really take a lot to guess that you didn’t listen to them. 

after a few slow minutes of debating whether or not you can get up and get on with your day in one piece, you eventually pulled your blankets off of you and figured that you'd live with the consequences of last night’s choices. besides, you couldn’t skip a crucial preparation day. after sending your three friends a quick thank-you message for getting you home safely, your phone lit up again with a message. you did a double-take at the new notification that just arrived; it was a text message from wonjin. are you up?

three days of silence and all he asks me is if i’m up? you grunted, refused to open the message in question, and, seeing no point in dwelling, went on with the rest of your routine. you didn’t know what else you wanted to read from that text, but you sure weren’t expecting to see such a casual question after literally not having heard a peep from each other for days. if you were being honest, you half-expected him to arrive at dinner last night. 

but whatever that text meant, you didn’t want to use your head, which at the moment felt like it weighs a ton, to think about it. 

your forehead in your hands as you navigate around your now-sunlit studio apartment, you hoped that the last-minute invitations, quality checks, and tidying up would keep you busy enough to forget the fact that, last night, you could’ve sworn you dreamt of wonjin and how he sat beside you on a bus ride home. 

“and there she is, fighting through the aftermath of alcohol.” yuna greeted loudly and met you halfway as you approached your shop on foot. last night, the three offered to be your manpower for the next few days which is why she, jungmo, and serim were all waiting for you out on the sidewalk, eyes squinted because of the sunlight and their mild hangovers. 

“do we get some kind of prize that we arrived earlier than you?” serim asked as the four of you entered. 

“coffee, as always.” this was met by a cheer from jungmo who wasted no time in attending to the shop decor which was still packed in boxes. “don’t worry, guys. if my shop does well, it’s meat for everyone.” 

“it’s settled then.” yuna clapped and got everyone’s attention. “okay, team. to your usual tasks. serim, light fixtures. jungmo, decor. me, storage. y/n, create.” 

“jungmo’s taller, why do i get the light fixtures?” 

you smiled sincerely for the first time in a few days, touched that they’re taking time off from their days to get the shop together, to get you together. “oh, and guys, sorry about last night. feel free to curse at me. i must’ve been so heavy.” you sat down in front of your work counter, fighting back a cringe. after numerous nights out, you just knew they had a treasure chest full of embarrassing stories to haunt you with. you were thankful no one else was there to see you wiped out. 

“hmm, you must’ve.” a knowing smile from a mischievous serim to jungmo and yuna. “but we wouldn’t know. right, guys?”

“yeah, y/n. i don’t know, i brought serim to his home.” yuna shared, trying to sound innocent but failing as she shouted from the storage room. 

“and i went home alone because i wasn’t drunk.” jungmo followed without missing a single beat. now you were utterly confused. did these three just call a cab on you or did you walk yourself home? you looked at the three of them one by one, their questionable smiling faces met with the most puzzled look on your face. 

“all i know is…” jungmo started, keeping himself from breaking out in laughter before he could get his words out.  “you called him a purple-haired idiot. that’s it.” 

“what?!” you stood up abruptly, making your chair tumble back with a thud. 

and just then, you started to recall bits and pieces of last night, starting from the vague bus ride that, until a few moments ago, you thought was just a dream. what in the world did i do now?

“y/n, i’ll help you up, okay? we’re almost at our stop.” wonjin pulled you up from your bus seat where you’ve been half-asleep on his shoulder. putting his arms around you as he guided you down the vehicle and onto the sidewalk, he repeatedly apologized to the bus driver for the delay. wonjin could only nod and laugh at the friendly reply from the middle-aged man who shouted ‘take your girlfriend home safely!’ he silently wondered how sober y/n would have reacted to such a remark. 

just as the two of you stepped down, a splattering against the ground made both of you stop in your tracks. 

“good heavens,” wonjin muttered as he rubbed your back and looked at the part of his shoes that was now covered in whatever it was you had for dinner a while ago. “you know, y/n, i wonder if you’d remember this once you pass by this mess tomorrow morning. looks like you enjoyed your barbecue too much.” wonjin joked, still not halting the backrubs as you were doubled over with your hands on your knees. 

when you looked up at him after that spiel, all you could do was smile apologetically and giggle, eyes half-open. “let’s go home. i’m tired.”

“are you all done? you’re not going to throw up on my shirt or anything?” wonjin pulled you away from the side of the road, leading you to the direction of your apartment. “you have to tell me your apartment password so you can go in, okay?”

“you have to guess it. you’re never going to guess it!” you pulled away from his hold and ran around him in circles, getting a thrill from how light you started to feel after letting some of the alcohol out. 

jogging to catch up with you, wonjin shouted, “y/n, slow down you’re gonna hurt yourself! aish. this child.” 

“i threw up on him.” you said out loud to no one in particular. the text from this morning, your friend’s teasing smiles, and the blurry, dream-like memories on the bus meant that wonjin did make it to dinner last night just when you were in no state of mind to remember when exactly he arrived. “i threw up on him outside my home... jungmo, it was you who called him, wasn’t it?! guys?!”

the laughter that filled the room after that and the whines of a terrified jungmo who wanted none of your punches were muffled by the sound of the door chimes tingling, signaling someone’s arrival. you almost snapped your neck as you hurried to see who it was. 

“hi, dear.” instead of a particular young male, you were met with the sight of the friendly landlady from upstairs, a plate of her usual handmade treats on hand, and a welcoming smile on her face. you mentally flicked yourself for involuntarily expecting someone else. “rice cakes?” 

“oh, auntie. it’s you.” the relief in your tone made your friends snicker. “thank you, you didn’t have to...” 

“why so surprised, dear? were you expecting someone?” she asked, waving at the set of friends bustling away inside the shop with the same annoying smiles on their faces. “oh that’s right. where’s that lovely boy, wonjin?”

“lovely boy,” serim whispered and bit back a laugh, earning him a glare from you. 

“he can’t make it today, auntie,” you explained shortly, politely getting the plate of rice cakes from her hands. 

“that’s too bad. it’s almost opening day.” she looked around the shop, satisfied by how it’s starting to look compared to the bare and boring unit she used to clean every day. “you worked your magic in this place. it feels just like yesterday when he was begging me to keep this small spot reserved for a day.”

“what do you mean?” 

“wonjin, that boy! remember? he was here the day before both of you passed by to finally rent it? ”

“i- i didn’t know that, auntie.” 

all this time, you thought you both found the place by chance and now here you were finding out that he was the one who made sure open seams happened. the walk you took that day wasn’t such a random one after all. what was up with the universe today and its not-so-subtle way of telling you to let wonjin back into your mind and your life? him taking you home last night and now this; whatever happened to the burdensome y/n he was talking about? 

“aaaand, another secret’s out.” yuna walked out of the storage room, a box of spools in hand. she beamed at the landlady who took a few seconds to figure out what she just revealed. 

“oh. oops.” the landlady sheepishly turned back and started to push the door open, ready to take her leave. “i think that’s my cue. see you around, dear.”

“see you around, auntie!” your three friends greeted her when she was out of the shop. they turned their heads back to you who had nothing but a blank stare and mouth agape, the gears almost visibly turning inside your head. 

“so now will you tell us what’s been going on between you two? it’s just weird knowing about all that and seeing you guys refuse to make up. both of you aren’t looking so good either, you know?” serim asked after giving you a few seconds to think. 

you sighed, leaning on the side of the table for support. “that day at the breakfast cafe, he said all this was getting kind of heavy and burdensome. that he couldn’t wait for it to end.” you decided to tell them once and for all about how you felt. “and that we were never going to happen.”

“y/n. you’re so stupid. ow!” jungmo concluded, earning him a smack to both shoulders by serim and yuna. “he was talking about that job he had! if you stayed longer and ate with us, you would’ve heard how smitten he was even if he wouldn’t admit it. i can see right through him.” jungmo explained in a high-pitched tone that reflected how frustrated he has been with the two of you. “now that i think about it, you’re both stupid.”

smitten? you took in everything jungmo just said and remembered every word you blurted out when you sent wonjin away that morning. finding out that he had another job all while helping you out with the shop for the past few months made you regret how you acted even more. it frustrated you that you’ve been too preoccupied to even ask about him. this is all on me. why did i act so rashly?  “i’m so stupid.”

“are we just now finally finding out that this was all a big misunderstanding?” yuna piped up, breaking the silence. 

“and are you telling me that it almost took a fallout for you to finally see the feelings you had for each other? these kids,” serim added, raising both hands in defeat.

different variations of ‘i knew it’ and ‘it’s about time’ as well as ‘idiots’ filled the shop as you were still frozen in place. you knew you had to apologize to wonjin, but where were you even going to start? with that encounter at the cafe? with how bad you felt for invalidating his heart to help you and rudely pushing him away? with everything you think you blurted out on that drunk night? or maybe how you actually felt for him?

can you meet me here in 30 minutes?

it took wonjin less than a heartbeat to reply to your message asking about where he was. even though you were the one who was out of it last night, he couldn’t help but worry over his own impulses. if you remembered everything he told you while he thought you were drunk and asleep, he had no choice but to explain it to you while you were fully-sober. and the thought of finally confronting you about everything made the usually-confident and talkative wonjin tongue-tied. 

“hey.” you turned the corner of the small side-street where wonjin asked to meet and found him leaning against one of the street art-ridden walls, waiting for you. it was a spot near your shop but one that you didn’t pass by as frequently. an odd choice of a meeting place, but you figured he wanted to talk to you without your friends overhearing. 

“here of all places?” you struck up a conversation albeit awkwardly, buying yourself time before the long apology.

he pointed to the wall behind him, looking at it up and down. “i was supposed to show you this sooner since they finished it early but…”

behind him was a small piece of street art. open seams, it said in the colors you usually used for your handmade pieces and in the style you designed for your simple logo. you softened not only at the thought that this shop was becoming a reality but also at how wonjin did this despite your missteps the past few days. at this point, you no longer knew if you were even worthy of him and his thoughtfulness.

“...you were supposed to show me this sooner but i was terrible to you, and i’m sorry. you didn’t deserve that. after everything... i don’t know if saying thank you would even be enough. that morning-” 

“you look like you just lost a million won, y/n.” his reply cut you off, earning him a roll of your eyes to which he merely responded with a playful laugh. “auntie told you, huh? i knew i couldn’t trust her and her rice cakes.” wonjin joked again, now more relaxed than he was moments ago now that things are starting to look up between the both of you. if there was anything that he needed for comfort the past few days, it was the presence that he’s gotten so used to. 

“i’ve had quite the morning, you know.” you told him as you eased into the conversation. “finding out you were the one who brought me home last night, finding out i wouldn’t have gotten the unit if not for you, and finding out i was mad at you over something i misunderstood. all this time.” 

what proceeded was a detailed apology you practiced in your head beforehand. wonjin just laughed at how fast you were talking and he didn’t forget to give the occasional side comments to reassure you that he was still the old, talkative, and witty ham wonjin that you didn’t have to act differently around. you knew in yourself that this was one of the things you missed badly. 

the weight you felt in your chest turned lighter as every bit of misunderstanding cleared out.  “...all that because i didn’t even stop to think that one morning. i’m sorry…” 

he delayed his response for a while, suddenly making you worry that he had more to be upset about. but he eventually nodded and waved away any remaining tension. “apology accepted.” wonjin ruffled your hair just like you always did with his. “we’re good. but do you remember anything else?” 

“except for the fact that i threw up on your shoes, no, i don’t remember doing anything else.”  

“the shoes were one thing.” he scratched his head and talked in such a low volume and such high speed  you couldn’t even comprehend what he was saying just to tease you. “but not even me telling you i liked you while you were all leaning on my shoulder at the bus and that whole speech i said about falling for you after i tucked you in?” 

“what? you said what when i was tucked in?!” you leaned in to hear him, only catching remnants of what you suspected was a confession. 

“ah, too bad. it was a one-time subscription, so you’d have to pay to hear it again.” he shrugged.

“you little- just tell me! it’s not like it’ll be any more embarrassing than me pouring out my stomach contents on the sidewalk for everyone to see.” you stepped forward wanting to hear more from him but he shook his head and refused to tell you anything further. the mischievous smile on his face as he paced around to avoid your probing weirdly made your heart beat faster. “fine. i was planning to tell you about something important but i guess you don’t want to hear it-”

“i don’t need to. i already know your apartment password is my birthday.” he stopped pacing and expectantly searched your face for confirmation despite not needing it. “right, y/n? 032201?” he repeated the numbers again and again just to coax a reaction out of you, his favorite thing to do. 

“wh- what are you talking about?” holy-.  if there were any more of this kind of surprises today, you didn’t know how much more of the shock you could take, but it seems like wonjin was enjoying just watching you all flustered. “i opened it myself-”

“y/n, you were too drunk to even see the keypad last night. when i tried my luck, we got in. 032201? who else could that be?” 

you were about to protest but as you were stuttering your poorly-made excuses, wonjin took your hand and slowly pulled you into a tight hug, all the while laughing at how ridiculous each of your statements was starting to sound. after the initial embarrassment passed, you realized there really was really nothing to hide anymore. 

“are you done?” wonjin asked, still not letting go of his hold on you which you returned willingly, hugging him tightly and hiding your face in his chest. “because to put it simply, i like you.”

you sighed in content, feeling all the exhaustion from the past few days  seep out of you with just those three words. “i like you, too, ham wonjin.”  

“and one more thing…” you added. “jungmo told me you were smitten.”

it was wonjin’s turn to get flustered and defensive, you pulled your face away and leaned back to watch as he cursed at jungmo for describing him in such a way. wonjin trailed off in his usual rants while you looked up at him with no plans of stopping his lovable nonsense. 

opening day

it was noontime on opening day: the ribbons have been cut, your mini-opening show went smoothly, friends have visited and selected their favorite pieces, and most of all, you have led the toast that officially marked the start of this journey. it felt utterly surreal. 

“all i can say is…” wonjin put his arm around you as you stood beside the racks of clothing you spent months perfecting. “it was certainly worth the hundreds of pinpricks.” 

“well, then. if you want more…” you pinched his side and laughed as he dodged you and made his way to your three other friends who were also admiring the work they did for the shop. 

a few nights ago, on a nighttime walk home in this same neighborhood, you wished for a perfect week to unfold in front of you. and maybe it did; just not in the way you anticipated, but exactly the way you wished it would end.

[me-and-your-husband]

Honey, I’m Home (Part 2)

Summary: After Steve went on the run from the government after the events of civil war, you await the day you can see him and your daughter again. When that day comes, a new hope s found.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader, Dad!Steve Rogers, Mom!Reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff, bearded steve

Word Count: 2.1k

Part 1

Sam opened the back door of the black Cadillac Escalade for me to take a seat inside. I did so as Bucky took his place in the passenger’s seat. When Sam got in, he started the car, put his seatbelt on, and put the car into drive. We sat in silence for a few moments, before I finally spoke up, the empty noise becoming too much to avoid.

“Where are we going?” I questioned as Sam’s eyes briefly met mine in the rearview mirror. Bucky drew a deep breath and huffed it out.

“After what happened at the airport, we brought Jane to a safehouse in Germany. After everything transpired and Steve broke the rest of the team out of custody, we all became fugitives. We’ve been on the run for the past year and a half,” Bucky clarified.

“Steve and Jane are in another safe house in the Canadian Rockies with the rest of the team that were on his side,” Sam added. I hummed in understanding and turned my face to look out the window.

Soon after, we were boarding a plane, using fake passports, of course. Once the plane successfully took off, Bucky put on a set of headphones and Sam nodded off. I noticed a small pad of paper and a pen in the seat pouch in front of me, and so I took it out and began sketching. My hand danced around the rough paper, crossing over lines and margins. I sketched from memory, and from what I remembered my daughter to look like.

I stared down at the completed sketch, coming out quite like the way I remembered three-year-old Jane. It was not as smooth and professional as Steve’s sketches, but you could still be impressed by it. My eyes started to fill with tears, the realization finally hitting me like a tsunami hits a small island.

I was finally going to see my family. After all this waiting, suffering, I was finally going to run my fingers through my daughter’s hair and tell her it was going to be alright. I was finally going to kiss my husband goodnight after a day of playing games at the beach and having a family picnic. I was finally going to have back the life that I missed so dearly.

I let a few tears make their way down my cheeks, before wiping them discreetly with the back of my hand. I looked to my right to see Bucky slipping his headphones off, a loft jazz tune revealing what he was listening to. Steve listened to the same type of music. It reminded him of a time when things were not so complicated.

“She looks almost identical to you, now,” Bucky said, staring down at the drawing on my lap. “She still has Steve’s blue eyes and blonde hair, but if not those then she would be your twin,” Bucky said as a smile crept onto my face, just imagining her. My five-year -old girl. My five-year-old girl. So much time has passed.

    I sit in silence and can’t help but wonder to myself the worst. What if she doesn’t remember me? She will. She has to, right? I’m her mother, there’s some type of bond there where you just, know, right?

My overthinking is interrupted by the flight attendant letting us know we’re landing over the intercom.

               When we land, I get out and am immediately glad I decided to wear a jacket. I never really believed people when they said that Canada was that cold, until now. I rubbed my hands up and down my arms, trying to create some friction induced heat, but that did little. Luckily, Sam packed accordingly.

“Here, put these on over your clothes,” he said as he handed me a fluffy parka, a pair of sweatpants, a weird beanie (which I would later find out they called “toques” in Canada), some mittens, and winter boots.

“People actually live in the cold like this?” I queried, to which both Sam and Bucky chortled.

“Yeah, I guess so. I mean, we’ve been doing it for the past couple of months,” Sam stated.

“You think this is cold? Try spending a winter in Saskatchewan, Jesus, it’s got nothin’ on Alberta,” Bucky added.

“Is that where we are?” I questioned, and Bucky confirmed it with a hum.

Sam led us to another car, this time it was a black Dodge Ram. I guess if we were going to the mountains, we would need a heavy-duty vehicle, one meant to trek mountains.

I stepped up onto the foot rail, and hoisted myself in. We fastened our seatbelts, and I managed to read the time over Sam’s shoulder; 4:39 PM. It was already getting dark, a behavior I assume was regular during Canadian winters.

Sooner than later, my head fell against my chest as I slept a bittersweet sleep, thankful for the rest, as it would pass the time and bring me closer to seeing my family, but also not wanting to miss a single second of the journey to my imagination.

 When I awoke, it was to Bucky shaking me lightly and whispering my name. I blinked back the sleep, and drowsily climbed out of the truck. I took in my surroundings. It was pitch black outside, but it only felt like nine or ten. I spun around, to see a huge, cozy looking hotel with trees and snow surrounding it. My mouth hung agape as Sam and Bucky ushered me into the hotel.

Sam checked us in for a one night’s stay, and as much as I wanted to see my family, the sooner the better, I knew that not Sam nor Bucky were accustomed to drive through the snow in the dark.

Bucky and Sam ended up sharing a bed, whilst they insisted upon me having the other one to myself. They made it out to be them just being courteous, but I really think they knew Steve would destroy them for sleeping in the same bed as his best girl.

               The morning consisted of a quick pot of coffee to wake us up, and then we were right back on the road, Bucky driving this time. Casual conversations were made, just them asking me what I have been up to for the past while. Nothing much had happened, but I didn’t want to seem like a bore, so I only told them the interesting bits.

               Soon, we were in the mountains, occasionally stopping for gas and snacks at random pitstops. I couldn’t help but feel like a little kid on a road trip, constantly wanting to ask, “are we there yet?” or “are we almost there? How much longer?”. Eventually, Sam announced that we would be there in about five minutes, which really grabbed my attention.

“By the way, he doesn’t know you’re coming,” Sam said, which barely fazed me, as I was too excited. My leg bounced up and down like a giddy teenager during an exam, and I could feel my heart beating in my throat.

          In a short amount of time, we pulled onto a gravel road, which had recently been neatly shoveled. It weaved through a thick forest, sometimes catching deer in the headlights. The path was shadowy and was barely lit, considering the trees looming over us blocking the sun. The rocky sound of driving across gravel and freshly packed snow filled our ears as we made our way down the trail.

         Soon enough, which felt too long even in itself, we came to a clearing. In the middle of that clearing, was a huge, three story log cabin, with multiple vehicles, varying size, type, model, year, color, and brand, scattered around the lot. Before my jaw could fall off its hinges, a familiar female giggle caught my attention. I turned my head to look through the window, to where I saw Wanda and Vision having a snowball fight. I guess Vision must have reconciled with Wanda, and realized that our side was the right to be on.

      The truck pulled up to the front of the house, and I slowly, as if mesmerized, took of my seatbelt. Wanda and Vision greeted Bucky and Sam, and they froze when they seen me. I gave them both a small wave and a smile as my feet hit the soft snow, and I may have come across as rude for not greeting them properly, but that could be saved for later. I turned my head to Sam, who quickly understood what I was getting at.

“Inside,” He stated, gesturing towards the big double doors of the manor. My heart skipped a beat as I clambered up the few steps leading to the porch and grasped the wood door handles. I took a breath in and swung the doors open. My eyes wandered the wood interior, before getting caught in a movement at the other end of the hall. I sprinted to where I saw that movement, and looked to my left, where some type of bedroom was located.

       Clint sat on the bed, holding a framed photo of his wife and kids. Before he could see me, I made my way back down the hall, and started frantically running around the maze of a place, trying to find my family. It was around noon, so it was very likely that they could be in the kitchen, eating.

      When I finally reached the huge kitchen, nobody was to be found. I let out a small sigh, but before I turned to walk out, I heard a voice coming from the next room over.

“Okay, Janie! Ready or not, here I come!” said that voice I knew all too well. Butterflies erupted in my stomach as I took fast steps to the entrance of that room, the living room.

        Standing beside the fireplace, was Steve Rogers, but he was different. His back faced me, but I could still see him in the mirror above the fireplace. He had a harder look to him, but those soft eyes I always adored were still there.  He had grown out his hair, and now had a nicely trimmed beard. I took a sharp breath in, which must have alerted him that someone was there. He always joked about me being the only one who could sneak up on him.

       His eyes met mine in the mirror, and his clenched jaw softened. He slowly lifted his head and spun around to face me. My breaths were shaky as he slowly took a step towards me.

“God, please tell me it’s you, Y/N, because I think if I have to convince myself that I’m seeing you one more time, I’ll go crazy,” He pleaded, his brows knit together.

“Yes,” I said, my voice cracking as my vision started to blur with tears. “It’s me, I promise you it’s me,” I said, as I ran towards him, immediately wrapping his arms around me and pressing his nose into the crook of my neck. I inhaled a long, sharp breath through my nose, missing the way he smelled, as well as the way he felt, the way his voice sounded in the morning, the way looked as his muscles flexed under his shirt when he was working out, and the way his lips tasted on mine. After I felt my tears had permanently stained his gray Henley, I pulled away. His blue eyes were so easy to get lost in, but the overwhelming need to kiss him, to feel him again, outweighed anything else in that moment. Our lips were together in an instant, in a passionate kiss. My hands rested at the back of his neck, and his on my cheeks, his body heat instantly warming me up from the chilly climate of Alberta. After we both pulled away for a breath, he rested his head against mine. I ran a hand down his beard clad cheek, and scratched it gently, to relay that I liked it, which elicited a smile from him.

“I missed you,” he whispered.

“I-“

“Daddy! What are you doing, are we still playing hide and seek?” said a little girl’s voice. My breath caught in my throat. Steve looked over my shoulder, and back to my eyes. He gave me a knowing look, and I slowly turned on my heels.

“Mommy?”

“Baby…”

“Mommy!” Jane screamed as she dropped her stuffed rabbit and sprinted towards me. I fell to my knees and held my arms open for her. I held her in my arms like that, like the day she was born, for what felt like forever. I don’t even remember exactly when Steve wrapped his arms around us. Silent cries and sniffles could be heard coming from either one of us.

Finally, I was where I should be, home.

Thank you guys so much for the support on the first part :)

Would you guys want an epilogue?

[wide-eyedscottishlass]

Scarlett and the Professor

[continued from]

moodboard by @strangelock221b​

author’s note : Reader may recall the many references to Scarlett’s preternatural connection to the Sea. This chapter reveals that her Professor has a true, supernatural connection of his own.

His study door was open, but Scarlett lightly knocked upon it anyway, as much from good manners as from believing that such behavior was still very much within the expected parameters of their relationship. “Come on in, m’dear,” was his distracted sounding reply.

Hennessy was seated in the same wingback chair as from the evening before, reading glasses perched on his nose, a red, felt tip pen in hand as he marked up the quiz sheet he held in the other. A stack of papers sat on the side table next to his chair. He glanced up at her over his glasses, then squinted and pursed his lips. “Darling, didn’t you bring a change of clothing? Or do you plan to swan about in my dressing gown all day?”

Yet again, Scarlett felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. “Well, yes, Sir, I…I did. But I thought you meant for me to see you first.”

“Oh, right,” he nodded, quirking a quick smile, “Not that you don’t look lovely in it, of course.” Scarlett was thinking how casually handsome he looked, his thick, dark hair still wet from his shower and meticulously slicked back, with him wearing a navy blue, athletic fit polo which accented his broad shoulders and firm pecs—reminding her of how thrilled she’d been to pamper them with moist, hungry kisses during their many hours of play the night before. A pair of grey Adidas track pants and well-worn leather boat shoes completed his relaxed look.

“Thank you.” Scarlett fidgeted with her sash, without a clue of what to say next—though Hennessy soon solved that for her, casting her an indulgent smirk. 

“I’ll be tied up here for a bit longer, so feel free to keep yourself occupied. You are welcome to explore any of the rooms on the first floor, and the grounds if you so wish.” His eyes seemed to drill into hers with his next instruction, “However, I must insist that you refrain from entering any room on the second floor other than my bedroom suite.” His gaze raked her from head to toes in a way that made her feel he was numbering her every physical attribute once again—numbering and weighing, as though calculating her worth, before he added quietly, “For there are some things you’re still too delightfully innocent to learn, m’dear.”

She nodded solemnly, her mouth gone dry at the implications. “I’ll leave you to this, then,” she offered, and then turned to leave, reaching the door before he called her back.

“Scarlett, there was a question you asked earlier which I never got to answer…wasn’t there?”

“Yes,” she blinked in surprise.

Hennessy nodded forbearingly, “In light of the…advance…in our relationship, I can offer you several options.” He whet his lips, then continued, “I don’t especially care for ‘Sir’, but if it’s a kink you enjoy, I’ll allow it. ‘Professor’ is fine as well, and you may also address me as ‘Hennessy’—many of my lovers do. But don’t even think of using my given name…” He chuckled. “It’s the single least sexy name in the world, and I only tolerate it from my mother.”

“Alright,” she replied softly, though he appeared to have something more to add.

“And as you are quite soft and…” he paused and inhaled deeply, as though he had caught a trace of her musk on the air, “…mmmmm…deliciously romantic, my sweet little lamb, a few terms of endearment are not uncalled for, as long as you don’t use them excessively…”

“Uh-huh,” she smiled, feeling exactly that sort of softness for him now.

“...and I do find I’m rather fond of that Scottish thing you’ve called me...”

“My...my jo,” she nearly whispered.

“Yes! My jo---I like that,” he exclaimed, “Quite more than I ever would have expected.” Hennessy flashed her wink and a toothy grin. “It’s back to work for me now, my jo---but I’ll come find you when I’m done.”

He turned his attention back to his task, so that Scarlett finally departed, certain that he would find her exactly as promised when the time came around.

          _________________________________________________

She decided to forgo the exploration for the time being, knowing that she needed a good washing up instead---and rather wishing that later Hennessy might give her a tour of the place himself. Back in his bedroom, she picked up her discarded items and fully opened the French doors, drinking in the warmth of the sunshine and the gorgeous view of the sea from his balcony. I should sketch this some time, she mused, though in truth she wasn’t sure if this might turn out to be her only opportunity.

Scarlett’s change of clothes was simple and modest when compared to how she’d outfitted herself for their evening tryst. Still, she laid what she had out on the bottom of the bed; a gauzy, white peasant blouse, stonewashed denim clam diggers, and a white lace bra with matching knickers. Casual and comfortable, for she had actually expected she would be wearing them as she headed home with the morning light, or even sooner. While never having imagined the several ways that Hennessy would have her through the night.

Mmmmm. Hennessy. And the things he had already taught her. Nothing in her sheltered world had prepared her for the brazen craving that she felt at just the thought of him and the divine sins he had tutored her in. She was craving him even now, like an addict for a fix.

But it wasn’t just the physical leading her to feel this way. There was his astonishing duality. He could be brutally honest, caustic, selfish, and even cruel---yet he had been so gentle with her at the moments she had needed it the most, and he was brilliant, funny, and surprisingly kind when the spirit moved him. As when he had finally gotten around to taking her maidenhead, and in the aftermath. No matter what might transpire between them going forward, at least part of her heart would be forever his, from that alone.

Oh, Hennessy was supremely confident and self-possessed, but beneath the facade he showed the world, Scarlett sensed bitter self-contempt and secrets that he had resolved to hide even from himself. Deep and painful secrets, surely related to the mysterious scars he bore. Her unerring intuition and gentle empathy---gifts come down through the ages to her, courtesy of her ancient Selkie blood---made her ache to know why. And to provide some consolation, were he ever to allow her into his heart.

She closed her eyes and with the freshness of recent memory she pictured the sight of him looking out his balcony doors to the sea, marveling again at sheer physical beauty of his form, and then shivering as she had last evening as she recalled seeing those brutish marks for the first time. Certain that would be imprinted on her heart forever as well. The urge to capture that moment had her moving to grab her sketchbook and pencils from her bag even before she even made the conscious decision. It might be foolhardy, she told herself, and surely he would not be pleased---if her were to know. But Scarlett felt the strong need to do so nevertheless.

She took a seat on the tufted ottoman, and as was the way when she was deeply inspired, she set to work with ease, lightly penciling in an outline of Hennessy and then sketching the details of the French doors, balcony, and the night sky with the round, fat moon framed by storm clouds, and its watery reflection on the distant waves. Next she lovingly attended to his details; his stillness as he stood enrapt, the restrained tension in the straightness of his posture, the sculpted beauty of his broad shoulders and long, lean back. Once she was satisfied that the image held true as it could to her vision, she filled in the ladder of scars---blinking back a tear or two as she wondered again how such a travesty had come to be.

Pleased with her work, Scarlett tucked her supplies away, then rose and headed to the loo, intent on treating herself to a hot, soothing bath. Muscle aches from the vigor of the night’s workout had begun to announce themselves, and Hennessy’s tub was the irresistible remedy.

                  __________________________________________

While the tub filled, Scarlett had taken the time to pin up her hair, and then had rolled up one of the plush towels as a cushion for the back of her head once she leaned back against the far end. Hennessy’s bathtub was longer and deeper than any she’d ever used before---no surprise as it was just another element of a lifestyle dedicated to hedonism.

A small, shelved wire rack hung off the lip of the tub, holding body wash, shampoo, a loofa and a sea sponge. And no surprise once more, as Scarlett noted that in addition to body wash that echoed Hennessy’s sea-themed cologne, there were  a couple of smaller bottles in decidedly feminine scents---reminding her that she wasn’t the first, nor would she be the last, houseguest to enjoy the benefits of his inner sanctum. After sliding into the water, she wet the sponge and squeezed  a generous amount of jasmine and orange blossom body wash onto it, creating a luxurious foam when she scrubbed her neck, shoulders, upper chest and arms. Next, she washed her legs all the way down to her insteps and toes, and then set the sponge aside and nestled back against the tub, closing her eyes and breathing slowly and deeply, letting the hot water work its magic.

Scarlett wasn’t  sure how much time had passed before she opened her eyes, although the water remained comfortably warm. She has sensed that she was no longer alone, yet still felt surprised when she discovered Hennessy casually watching her only a step or two from the tub. “Ohhhh,” she inhaled, then rushed to add, “I hope this is alright.” Although he had already seen her every detail, somehow she felt vulnerable with only the slowly dissolving suds between her bare skin and his avid gaze.

“Of course it is, my sweet,” he assured her gregariously, “In fact, it’s...hmmm...simply perfect.” 

The warmth of the water couldn’t keep her skin from from prickling with goosebumps of anticipation, for she knew from his look as well as his tone what he meant by ‘perfect’. “Done with those papers then, Professor?” she asked innocently.

He t’sk’d as he crouched beside the tub, shaking his head, “Not quite, no. But you see, I suddenly found myself rather distracted...” Hennessy reached to cup her jaw in his palm and ran his thumb along her bottom lip; instinctively she lowered her lashes and kissed it. “Now that’s my bonnie lass,” he drawled, slipping his thumb between her lips, “My wet and slippery water nymph...”

“Might...might you care to join me,” she asked after giving it a gentle suck, eager to move over to  give him room.

He wore an air of mystery, amusement, inevitability. “I probably will---eventually. But there’s something I’d like to show you first.” He withdrew his hand and added, “A special treat because you’ve been such a good, good girl.”

Scarlett’s heart had begun to race a bit, as she wondered what sort of act could make him sound and look almost diabolical---although whatever it was, she couldn’t deny her curiosity, or her need to please him by obeying.”

“I know you didn’t mean to interrupt me, Scarlett, for there are things you’ve yet to learn about my nature. Now seems the ideal opportunity for that.” His knowing smile was both beautiful and wicked. “The fact is, darlin’, I could feel the water running as you drew the bath. It called to me like a veritable invitation,” he growled, lust shamelessly stamped upon his patrician features.

Though mystified by his statement, her cheeks burned with unrepentant desire to learn what lesson her was offering now. Scarlett watched him hold up his forefinger and then dip it up to the second knuckle in the bathwater. Immediately, ripples of concentric circles moved outward from it, as they would for a stone cast into a body of water. Hennessy’s eyes then captured hers as he barely stirred the water, and he was grinning as he waited for her response to what came next.

Scarlett gasped at the sudden sensation as a current of water strikingly warmer than the bath washed across her submerged torso. He mouth dropped open, “Oh...oh myyyy...”

Hennessy simply nodded, though his pupils had grown large enough to leave visible only a thin crescent of his sea blue irises.

The warmer water seemed to coalesce around her breasts until it felt like it was cupping them while slowly pulsing around them. Like the flex of strong, warm hands. Like his hands. And when tendrils of heated water began to stroke her nipples, drawing them to hard peaks, Scarlett gasped at the divine sensation, then exhaled a long, molten moan. “How? How is this possible,” she whispered, laying her head back against the rolled towel. 

Hennessy laid his other forefinger across his lush lips, swift to command her, “Ssssssshhhhhh...don’t question it, love...just trust in me as you have all along.”

“I will...I do...” she nodded, gasping again when thick, heated tendrils kissed both of her insteps, then slowly began to twine up her legs. The water continued to caress her breasts, deliciously teasing her nipples so that it nearly felt she was being suckled. A small part of her brain warned that there was devilry in what her lover was doing---but need and desire overrode those cares, for Scarlett knew full well what was coming next.

Those tendrils had wrapped around her thighs, pulsing against her skin while their ends insinuated themselves between them. As much as she expected it, her eyes still flew open at the impossibility of them brushing up and down the length of her slit, while seeking her tender, secret flesh and then spreading her open and spoiling her with pleasure as strongly and as surely as though they were Hennessy’s talented fingers themselves. She groaned as she undulated beneath them, knowing what he intended for her.

Indeed, one of the columns of water thickened and became more dense as the other continued to stroke her clit, and then began to seek entry. Scarlett needed to see him, her lover and teacher, this mysterious creature who had captured her soul and now appeared to possess power over the element of water itself. The look of concentration on his face was mesmerizing, and when the thick, hot shaft of water finally slid inside her, he looked absolutely victorious.

The water was smooth and hot and driving so deeply into her that she keened again and again, and it wasn’t long until she was gripping white-knuckled onto the lip of the tub with both hands as she bucked her hips into his glorious onslaught. Hennessy had begun to moan quietly and when she managed to look at him again, a fine sheen of sweat stood upon his brow and above his lips. “Yessssss,” he hissed, “You’re my wicked little angel, aren’t you, love...made...made just for me...” He was panting hard, as though with effort to bring her to climax, “...a gift...a gift of the Sea...”

In that moment, that was exactly what Scarlett wanted to be; Hennessy’s in every way imaginable, belonging to him shamelessly. “Oh pleeeeeeeease...finish me, my jo,” she cried out, beyond all thought of sin, craving only what this spectacular devil willed for her, “Make...me...cum...cum for you...” Whatever spell he was working reached its peak, and Scarlett came hard in a glorious frenzy, until her body went limp and she nearly slid beneath the surface. As Hennessy grabbed her to keep her afloat, the heated tendrils dissolved, dispersing their warmth into the surrounding water and leaving behind only their effects upon her---waves and waves of diminishing after throes, eventually making her shake from the power of her release.

When her body finally relaxed, Scarlett opened her eyes to find him watching her closely again and looking incredibly pleased with himself. “I dare say you’re squeaky clean now, my sweet,” he observed, “And that was delicious, don’t you agree?”

She nodded slowly as words failed her for several breaths, while her rational mind insisted that she had to be dreaming everything that had happened since she’d initially laid her head back and closed her eyes. “No, you’re not dreaming, my jo,” he assured her. That expression coming from him was like a surprising, gentle caress. One that could only leave her covetous for more of the same. “I swear to you that what just happened is very, very real.”

Scarlett barely found her voice enough to ask, “But...how? How could that be?”

Hennessy pursed his fulsome lips and raised a single brow, “Explanations can wait for later.” A greedy expression now colored his dear, handsome face as he rose to stand---a look that echoed the way his loose track pants now tented across his erection. “But right now,” he told her while he pulled off his shirt and let drop his pants where he stood, “I’m going to claim what is rightfully mine.”

And though she had just been fully satisfied, Scarlett felt her nipples tighten in anticipation as he stepped into the water, while the gorgeous ache to have him fill her again...to have him take her mercilessly...had the muscles all throughout her pelvis reawaken with that sinfully luscious need.

tagging: @strangelock221b​ @ben-c-group-therapy​ @ben-locked​ @letterstosherlock​ @splunge4me2art​ @ravencatart​ @doctor-stephenstrange​ @aeterna-auroral-avenger​ @humanbornarchangel​ @frowerssx-world​ @tsukuyomi011​ @emilyinnj4real​ 

[afni-fics]

Elder Scrolls DC - A Reluctant Dragonborn: Chapter 34: Hot Springs

Elder Scrolls DC - A Reluctant Dragonborn: Chapter 34: Hot Springs by C_R_Scott Fandom: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Red Robin (Comics), DCU (Comics), Batman (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Characters: Tim Drake, Lucien Flavius, Kaidan (Elder Scrolls) Additional Tags: Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Skyrim/DCU crossover, Reluctant Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Not Beta Read, Alternate Universe - Skyrim Fusion, Modded Skyrim, Skyrim Spoilers, Tim Drake is Dragonborn | Dovahkiin, Tim Drake-centric, Trope: It sucks to be the chosen one, Trope: Trapped in another world, Trope: Kidnapped by the Call

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Summary:

Along the way to Ivarstead, the trio happen upon a set of hot springs...

Despite how rocky things started off that morning, as Tim and his companions continued along the road leading towards Ivarstead, things mellowed out somewhat. 

The most obvious quality of life improvement with Kaidan now travelling with them was that weaker threats like skeevers, small wolves, and the occasional small group of bandits that would've tried to take a chunk out of him or Lucien previously were content to keep their distance. Dressed in heavy steel armor with that giant sword longer than most men strapped to his back, Tim was honestly glad for the obvious visual threat deterrence Kaidan provided. After his argument with Lucien, and after spending half the night rescuing their new friend from the Thalmor, Tim was not in a mood to finish any fights started by the wildlife or wandering criminal population of Skyrim. 

While Lucien focused on conversing with Kaidan for most of the morning, Tim enjoyed the newfound peace and quiet of this leg of the journey and having a few hours to observe his surroundings alone with his own thoughts. The further they went, the more mountainous and wooded the terrain became, and the more enamored he became with his surroundings

The young man took note of the types of trees and plants that grew in abundance around him. Idly he wondered which were useful, potentially edible plants and which were toxic. He also made it a point to be mindful of movements of the animals that wandered amongst the trees. If he was going to have to survive out here, he needed to learn know how to identify, at a glance, the harmless creatures from the more dangerous ones that would immediately see him and his companions as a quick meal. 

"I should buy another journal, just for field notes, and pencils for sketching," Tim thought to himself. "I wish cameras were a thing here." There was so much... too much... to see and learn.

    "Word is, the waters here are good for you." 

The sun was starting to get affectionate with the horizon and Tim glanced backward to notice that Kaidan had paused to look at something just off the cobblestone path. He followed the swordsman's gaze to an interesting looking location on the other side of the river they'd been following towards their destination.

"What is that?" he asked

"Hot springs," Kaidan explained as he went to a better ledge overlooking the river and the pools beyond. "I've passed by every now and again over the years, but never indulged myself. The locals believe the water has healin' properties, and somehow they stay warm all year round."

"We have to camp here tonight!"

Kaidan and Lucien both looked at Tim curiously, who was staring at the hot springs with an expression of obvious longing.

"We 'have' to?" Lucien asked.

Tim whipped his head to his two travelling companions. "Yes! We 'have' to!" he insisted. Then, without even waiting for the other two to agree or disagree, Tim started making is way off the beaten path towards an obvious set of large stones that could easily serve as a makeshift bridge to across the river. After sharing a confused glance and a shrug of shoulders, Kaidan and Lucien both followed after him.

It didn't take Tim long to reach the outer edges of the hot springs ahead of his companions. The air was unfamiliarly warm and humid and there was a distinct medicinal aroma in the air. Tim took it all in with relish. As he got to the waters' edge, he tugged off one of his gloves and tested the temperature of both the sands on the shoreline as well as the water with his hand. He didn't even bother trying to mask the murmur of approval that escaped his lips.

"Are you seriously considering indulging in these springs, Timothy?"

Tim nodded at Lucien as he rose to his feet and tugged his glove back on. "I am not passing up this opportunity," he said as he glanced at the clearing just a dozen or so yards away from the water's edge. There was more than enough room to comfortably set up camp, and Tim was quick to set down his pack and pull out the things needed to set up their tent. 

"Opportunity?" Kaidan echoed with with confusion, which was rewarded with an exasperated grumble.

"It has been literal weeks since I've been able to take a decent bath since I woke up in Skyrim," Tim told Kaidan as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Not to mention it's cold all the damned time out here, especially at night! Every day the choice is either be clean and flirting with frostbite or stay decently warm but filthy." He glanced at Lucien, who was observing him with a fair amount of growing amusement.

"I think you're exaggerating a bit regarding how cold it is out here," the scholar chuckled.

"I probably am, but I don't care," Tim said matter-of-factly as he started setting up the tent as quickly and efficiently as he could. "You want me to not look for trouble tonight? Then this is your best chance for it, because short of a fucking dragon attack I am not squandering the chance for a hot bath and a decent night's sleep in a place that's actually radiating warmth instead of sucking it out of me."

While Kaidan regarded Tim with a fair amount of undisguised concern before borrowing an axe to collect firewood, Lucien just continued to snicker under his breath as he pulled out the cooking gear and ingredients from his own bag. It was his turn to cook, after all.

   "I am never taking hot baths for granted ever again," Tim thought to himself with a content sigh once he finally sank chest deep into the springs after finding a spot where there was a natural stone ledge next to the water's edge that allowed him to lounge comfortably while submerged. After camp had been set up, the sun had set, and Lucien had just started cooking, Tim was adamant about enjoying the springs as early and as long as he possibly could. After assuring Lucien and Kaidan he'd only be a few yards away, Tim made his way to the nearest deep pool he could find, stripped off his gear and clothing, and stepped into the deliciously hot waters.  After taking several minutes to actually clean his skin and hair, the young man finally settled into a mostly tranquil state as he stared up at the starry night sky with its twin moons. It was so warm and peaceful out there. One could almost forget that Skyrim was a wild mostly-untamed land full of a wide variety of things that wanted him dead.

Almost...

The subtle sound of something skulking in the shadows of some nearby trees behind him caught his ear. Without moving his head, Tim's eyes glanced towards the trees and recognized the outline of a man among the evergreens. Casually, Tim moved from where he was sitting and made his way back to the shore where his clothes were folded. He rummaged through his bag and pulled out a length of linen cloth he was planning on using as a towel. 

A feint. 

From beneath the cover of the linen cloth, Tim slipped several throwing stars into his hand. Then, as quickly as he could, he threw the stars at the evergreens right where the shadows looked most man-shaped. They whistled through the air and embedded themselves in the trunks of the trees with solid "THUNKS".

"What the fu--?!" the man in the darkness shouted as he quickly stumbled away from where the wickedly sharp metal stars had nearly clipped him. Unfortunately for that poor soul, the stars themselves had been another feint. 

While the stranger was distracted, Tim had wrapped the linen cloth around his waist and recovered his metal quarterstaff. On the silence of bare feet and without the weight of his own armor slowing him down, the vigilante rushed his distracted stalker and struck him with a headshot and a couple of body blows from his staff before finally taking him completely off his feet, where he crashed to the sandy shore with a clatter of metal.

Wait... Metal?

"What in the world is going on?" Lucien called out as he rushed to where Tim stood with a lantern in hand. As soon as the light was close enough to chase the shadows away, it was clear who Tim's unfortunate victim was.

"Kaidan?!"

Their new swordsman, flat on his back on the sand, groaned as he brought a hand up to his head. "What the Oblivion was that?"

Tim relaxed his defensive stance. "Were you... spying on me?!"

"Guardin'," Kaidan muttered as he gingerly eased himself up into a seated position. "Least, that was the plan. To keep watch your back while you were... vulnerable." He glanced at Lucien. "I thought you said he was bad at self-preservation?"

"I did, but I meant that in the way that he frequently throws himself into dangerous situations without any concern for his own health and wellbeing." Lucien shook his head, set down the lantern, and cast a quick healing spell over their swordsman. "When it comes to actual combat, Timothy's really quite skilled."

Tim leaned against his staff as he watched Lucien finish his healing. "Y'know Kaidan, you could've just told me you were worried about my safety before I went into the water."

"You wanted to bathe. I figured you'd tell me to sod off for privacy."

"I would've said, 'Do what you want. I don't give a fuck.' I can watch my own back just fine though." After taking a moment to retrieve his throwing stars from the nearby tree, Tim turned back to the pool. "Now if you guys don't mind, I'm going back to finish my bath."

Now that Kaidan was upright and he could see Tim more clearly in the lantern light, the swordsman took a moment to get a good look at the lines of the young man's body that had previously been hidden beneath layers of leather armor. Though he'd originally assumed he was a noble or scholar based on how Tim spoke and carried himself, as well as how he interacted with Lucien, Tim's body told a different story. His muscles were lean and well defined, looking like they'd been built over years of training for speed and finesse, rather than raw power and brute strength. His pale skin was also a map of scars scattered across both his torso and his limbs.

As Tim walked off, Kaidan noticed something that made his breath catch in his throat. It was the sight of Tim's burn scars consuming nearly the entirety of the young man's back and part of his left upper arm.

--- NOTE:

Indulging in little slices of life as Tim, Luci, and Kai travel towards Ivarstead. I'd forgotten initially during the playthrough that the hot springs were along one of the main paths to Ivarstead, so when Kaidan commented on it in-game I couldn't resist the pit stop.

It's been in the back of my mind that Tim has been missing a lot of modern conveniences since waking up in Skyrim. Motorized vehicles, computers, and cell phones/communication devices have been obvious ones. However, it occurred to me that things like regular access to hot baths would also be sorely missed too, especially in a region as cold as Skyrim, especially when you're spending days to weeks on end out on the road or in the wilderness.

#elder scrolls dc#fanfiction#tim drake#skyrim fanfiction#red robin#batfam#crossover#lucien flavius#wip#kaidan skyrim#afewnovelideas

[whindsor]

since you reached your word count, can we maybe get a sneak peak of your story?

aaaaaaah sure!!!! this is like, the inciting incident.

it’s also SUPER unedited so like. don’t just me please.

Ellex pulled on her best clothes, her best leathers, and did everything she could to make her seem like she was maybe supposed to be there.

There was still no sign of the King, though there was technically the possibility that he had arrived with out any pomp or circumstance, which seemed unlikely. She still couldn’t shake the vague sense of foreboding; she almost felt like someone was aiming a bow at the spot between her shoulder blades, her back tingling with anticipation of danger or pain. Things were coming to a head, and she had a feeling she was about to find out something terrible.

Axel knocked on her door, surprisingly respectful compared to that morning. She wrenched it open, her hand gripping the handle tightly. He gave her body a once over in a completely clinical way, assessing her dress for the supper.

“That’s the best you brought?” he asked.

“This is the best I own, and you know that,” she said, feeling extra prickly. What did he expect?

“I know you own a dress. Maybe even two,” he said, tilting his head to look into her rooms as if said dresses were going to magically appear there.

“I’ll be in a room full of the best warriors in the country, do you think I’m going to limit myself by wearing a dress?” she asked, pushing past him into the hallway.

“What about your ceremonial braids?” he countered, making her pause.

“There’s no need for those-“

“You’re meeting the King, now is the best time for them-“

“He wouldn’t get them anyway-“

“You’re not even wearing a dress, you should wear your braids-“

“I can’t do them!”

“…What?” Axel, for some reason, was surprised by this fact. “What do you mean you can’t do them?”

“My mother or Xera always did my braids for me,” she explained, trying and failing not to sound like a sad child. “I could never get my hands to work right, so they took pity on me and did them for me.”

“I can’t believe you can’t do your own braids,” he did sound genuinely impressed, but not in a good way.

“I’m sorry, can you do them?” she asked, hands on hips and anger hot in her tone. First he insulted her clothing, and now he was insulting her hair braiding skills. He was already making this trip infinitely more difficult than it needed to be, did he really have to be like this too?

“Well I-“

“That’s what I thought. C’mon, we’re gonna be late,” she said, turning on her heel and walking towards the front hall. They weren’t to eat in the normal dining room tonight, but instead in the Great Hall somewhere on the upper level of the castle. The servants waited for them in the front hall, leading them up the massive staircase to the upper levels and into a huge room.

If she thought the dining room or the library were big, she was not ready for the Great Hall. This Hall was used for anything from banquets to weddings to matters of the state, the decorations and lamps transformed with each meeting. Now eight rectangular tables were set up in a circle, a perfect octagon with the head table up on a dais at the front of the room. The King would not sit on his throne, but it was stationed right behind his table, in full view just in case anyone forgot who he was. Already Felda and Gable sat at their table, as well as Barta and Ilane and Ink and Kala. Ellex was glad they’d found the happy medium between being the first and last to arrive. She swiveled her head, looking for Mara the mysterious and bratty heir from the desert, but she was nowhere to be seen. In fact, Ellex hadn’t seen her at all that day, and wondered if her arrival hadn’t just been some weird fever dream.

“This way, Miss,” the servant said, leading her and Axel to their table. It was just adjacent to the door, which she didn’t like. Having her back to the only entrance in the room was less than favorable. So of course she moved so that Axel was closest to it, so that he could be the first to die - or, make an attack, if that was an option.

The heirs eyed each other from their seats, but no one felt confident enough to say anything. Ink was still sketching away in his sketchbook, his eyes flitting up to Ellex every so often. She wondered if he was making a new picture of her, or just perfecting the one from earlier. Either way, she had to stop herself from grabbing the book and tossing it into the nearest fire.

Fort and Lave entered with a loud, low whistle. Fort was apparently impressed by their new eating arrangements, and expressed as such loudly and with forced casualness. “I think this is the size of the whole house back home,” he said, nudging Lave in the ribs. “Maybe even my first ship.”

“Was more of a boat than a ship,” Lave murmured quietly, just loud enough that Ellex could hear it as they walked by. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from laughing, sending a conspiratorial look towards Lave. She wondered if, being Fort’s second, he ever got tired of dealing with the other man’s antics. She also wondered if Fort ever turned those antics down, or even off. It seemed unlikely.

“So, our host still has yet to arrive?” Fort asked loudly, and again Ellex had to keep herself from replying. Of course the King wasn’t there. What other comment did he need on it? Luckily, they were all saved from the discomfort of the moment by Murette and Alsatia making their entrance. Both of the women looked beautiful in traditional forest garb; most of the country was focused on warriors and their strength, but in the forest they were more about skills and assets - the very definition of work smart, not hard, which was important when there were a shit ton of trees that one could run into when making an advance - or an escape. So instead of leathers and armor, they had on tunics and skirts made of wide leather strips, the pointed ends covered in silver. In a battle they’d probably wear breeches underneath, but here they left their legs and arms bare, thin silver-green lines lacing over their limbs in elaborate fake tattoos.

In short, they looked like iridescent forest nymphs and Ellex was supremely jealous.

“Wow, this is amazing,” Murette said, gazing up at the ceiling a million feet above them. There were slats open to show the night sky, though the lamps from inside drowned out any starlight.

“Eyes on the road,” Alsatia reminded her, touching her elbow lightly. She easily sidestepped the table she was about to run into, going to her designated seat.

“I thought we were running late, but apparently we’re right on time,” she said. When they’d dined together before, Ellex assumed her dreamy voice was due to her taking of libations, but it seemed like that was just how she spoke all the time. She didn’t mind it.

“Early, even,” Alsatia agreed, adjusting her quiver ever so slightly as she sat. Ellex still thought it odd that they dined with their weapons donned, but she was not about to be the only one to remove them. She wondered if the other provinces had similar traditions, but they all just pretended they didn’t, just so they wouldn’t be the odd man out. She’d have to ask some of them later. Now the only ones they were waiting on were Mara - who no one else knew was present in the castle - and the King himself, who was still currently absent without official leave.

The clock tower outside, which had been previously dormant, sang out the hour, the peals of the bells cutting through the wide windows that were thrown open to let in the sweet night air. Seventh hour, the hour they were told to come. The door opened once more and they all turned expectantly, wondering if the King was finally gracing them with his presence. Instead, the hooded desert heir slipped inside, her head bowed as she crossed the threshold. Her dusty robes whispered behind her as she followed the servant to her table, and behind that her great sand-colored dog walked with casual grace. Mara removed her hood and sat, the dog claiming the space on the floor next to her.

“Well, seems the wildwitch decided to join us after all,” Fort said. Ellex thought Mara would bristle at the name, but her dark eyes showed no emotion.

“I was summoned, just as you were,” she replied. Her voice was quiet, but somehow carried easily through the space. Fort, not knowing how to respond to such directness, faltered just long enough for Ink to get a word in.

“I have heard amazing things about the libraries in the desert,” he said. He seemed glad that his table was right next to hers, even leaning over Kala so that he could speak to Mara better. “Would you be willing to tell me about it?”

“I will tell you anything you want to know,” Mara agreed, and Ellex wondered if everyone else heard the edge to her voice, or if she was the only one. Everyone else’s magic, which had previously been simmering just below the surface, spiked now that Mara was here. Ellex became even more uncomfortable, caught in the crossfire between Mara and the rest of the airs, all of their magic poking and trying.

“What’s a wildwitch?” she asked Axel, keeping her voice as low as possible. She did not need a glare from Mara, or condescension from everyone else.

“In the desert, they practice a different form of magic, more elemental in nature,” he explained. Now it made sense, why hers felt so incredibly different compared to everyone else’s. “But it’s also more difficult to control, and there has to be a certain amount of…feral energy to work it. Hench, wildwitch.”

“She doesn’t seem to like the name,” Ellex continued.

“For a long time, before magic was wider spread, the wildwitches were seen as troublemakers, dangerous,” he said. He glanced over at Mara, alone at her table with no second beside her. Despite all her apparent shortcomings, she had a regal poise about her that Ellex found impressive. “They still are.”

“She doesn’t seem that dangerous,” Ellex said. “She doesn’t have any weapons.”

“The wildwitches don’t need weapons,” Axel said darkly. “You’d do best to stay away from her. I mean it.”

“I’ve been trying to stay away from everyone,” she bit back, realizing halfway through that she was speaking a touch too loud and softening her voice. “You’re the one who keeps trying to make me socialize.”

“I’m trying to make you learn, not socialize,” he countered, once again his patience wearing thin. He used to be able to handle her shenanigans, but his fuse was getting shorter and shorter. Ellex probably shouldn’t feel proud of that fact, but she was. “You’d realize that, if you listened to a word I said.”

“Sounds boring,” she replied, turning to her cup. Another bell rang, this one deep in the kitchens, and the doors opened once again. Once again, no King was in sight, but there was something even better: food.

Like the night before, the food came out in courses, starting with greens and soup and working towards heavier portions. Ellex didn’t mean to eat as much as she did, but she also didn’t have any regrets about it. As supper continued on, the tension in the room seemed to dissipate; everyone figured that, like the nights before, the King would not come tonight.

They would be wrong.

The servants were handing out dessert whenever it happened. The door to the Great Hall slammed open, as if a boot hit it from the other side. The King’s second strolled in first, hands on his belt. He was dirty, as if they’d come straight from the road. He stepped to the side, looking at each of them in turn for a long, painful moment.

“All rise for King Antyus.” For a small man, his voice carried brilliantly, though the shape of the room probably helped that. The heirs and seconds - some of which had taken a little too much in their cups - stumbled to their feet, wondering if they were to bow or to step to meet him or to drop to their knees.

The King took his time making his entrance, his spurs jingling with each step he took and the massive room amplifying the sound. His thumbs were tucked into his belt, and he absolutely ambled across the room, welcoming the silence and the awe. He was not a man of great stature, but he carried himself so that he appeared more formidable. Everything from his boots to his leathers to the sword at his waist spoke of his station. He was also old - older than Axel, older than Ellex’s father. Hell, he might have been older than her grandfather, she couldn’t quite tell. But there was still a spring in his step and a glint in his eye as he met each and every one of theirs.

Ellex noticed he was not wearing the crown.

Wasn’t the King supposed to always wear the crown?

He was wearing it in his portrait.

Where was it now?

Find the crown. And claim it.

The words came to her, apparently the only thing she managed to retain from her late night reading. That was the significance of the crown - the King was not chosen, or assigned, or elected. The King had to beat all their rivals to find the crown. It was so simple, the first lesson they learned in school. How could she have forgotten?

And how in the hell was she going to get out of this?

“Now, now,” the King drawled, his accent smooth but his voice gravelly with age. He gestured to everyone as if he’d been there all along. “Don’t stop the celebrations on my account.”

“Your Majesty,” Fort was the first to bow, Lave following a breath later. Ink and Kala bowed as well, while Murette and Alsatia dipped into low curtseys. Barta and Ilane crossed a fist over their chest in their own salute, and Felda and Gable of the Plains held their hands to their foreheads in theirs. Only Mara stayed fully upright, hands clasped in front of her.

“Ellex,” Axel hissed from somewhere below her. She broke from her trance to find him down on one knee, their typical sign of respect. She quickly dropped next to him, hoping the King hadn’t noticed how long it took her. Her head was reeling; soon, there would be a race to find the crown. That had to be why the King invited them all here, why he made sure the heirs brought a second.

He was retiring. And one of them would take up the crown after him.

“Return to your seat,” he said, sinking down into his own chair. His joints cracked a few times as he did so, the sound amplified in the silence of the Hall. “I’ve been told it’s time for dessert.”

“Your Majesty?” Ink spoke up this time, and the King looked up with a serene face and raised eyebrows, curious as to what he wanted.

“Yes, Cornelius?” he prompted, using Ink’s given name. Ink’s magic pulsed at the sound of it, but whether it was due to excitement or fear Ellex wasn’t sure.

“I…” Ink had spoken up, but then was unsure what to say. “How was your journey?”

This was apparently the right thing to ask, as the King grinned broadly. “Quite adventurous, thank you for asking,” he said. Once again he gestured at the chairs, and they all sat as one, school kids afraid of the master.

“Where did you go?” Fort asked, trying to gain an upper hand in the conversation. The others seemed to notice this, sitting up a little straighter and preparing what they were to say. Ellex, for her part, wondered if she would remain unnoticed if she sat super still.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” the King answered, his grin turning cryptic as he reached out and grabbed his glass. He took a slow sip of the wine, his eyes never leaving Fort.

“I suppose I would, yes,” Fort said, his eyes glancing obviously towards the top of the King’s head, which was covered with thick, white hair but no sign of a crown. The King sighed, shaking his head.

“Very well, I guess we’ll address the elephant in the room. Though I really planned to get through dessert first,” he said, genuinely sad not to partake in the apple pie in front of him. Ellex hadn’t even noticed the servants bring the plates in, and while normally she would be ecstatic to try yet another new dessert, the thought of eating anything made her feel even more sick than she already did. “You’re probably all wondering why I gathered you here.”

“Always to your will, King,” Murette said, moving her arms as though she was curtsying again, though she stayed sitting in her chair. His smile was less genuine this time, and he gave her a placating nod.

“Right. As it were, I am currently only acting King,” he said, stressing the extra monicker. He ran a gnarled hand through his white hair, the gold of his rings glinting in the low light of the Hall. “As you can see, I’ve returned from my journey a day late and a crown short. As it were, the next ruler is sitting here in this room. Right now.”

Fort shot to his feet, Lave not far behind. They looked like they were going to make their way to the doors, but they closed heavily before they could take another step, the sound of the plank sliding home hitting each of them. They were now locked in the Great Hall.

“I still expect the same level of respect, young Fort,” the King said, his eyes icy as he settled them on the coastal boys again. “There will be plenty of time for you to go on your hunt. But for now, my journey was long, and I would like to get to know you.”

“Apologies, my King,” Fort said, for once looking embarrassed and bowing his head like a chastised child. He returned to his seat, his heel bouncing as he sat down again.

“Apology accepted. Now,” he looked at them each again, and Ellex felt her blood run cold as his sights set on her. “You, my dear, are not the original intended recipient of my invitation.”

“No, my King,” she said, her voice shaky even to her own ears. “My sister, Xera, fell in battle against raiders three months ago. I am here in her stead.”

“Interesting,” the King said, moving on immediately. Mara was his next target. “Ah, a priest from the desert. I’ll confess, I am surprised to see you here. We’ve not had visitors from the desert in quite some time.”

“Apologies, my King,” Mara said, though somehow she didn’t seem to hold the same reverence that the others did. She looked right at the King, as though she were addressing an equal rather than the ruler of the land. “I’m afraid my people are less than social.”

“That’s one way to put it,” he said, and if the comment offended Mara, she didn’t show it. Maybe she was actually a robot with a human face, and that’s why she didn’t have any emotions. But then, how would she have the insane amount of magic? “I noticed you have no second.”

“Oe is my second,” she said, and it took Ellex a moment to realize she was talking about the dog. At the sound of her name, Oe looked up at Mara, waiting for a command. When none was given, she laid her head back down on the tiles. The King cocked his head to the side, staring at the dog for a long moment before letting out a single laugh. A moment later he laughed again, then busted out into a full blown hysteric attack.

“The dog is your second. Right,” he said, still chuckling. A few of the other heirs started laughing with him, a few of those few even looking like they meant it. Axel even let out a low chuckle next to her, immediately stopping when she looked his way. She didn’t understand what was so funny; if she’d had her way, Andalus would’ve been her second instead of Axel. Every day she felt that more and more. She thought to speak up, to say something on her behalf, until she glanced at the woman in question.

Mara, for her part, kept her head high and her eyes clearly on the King. Ellex would have thrown at least a comment or two his direction, or towards the other heirs, but Mara kept her lips firmly sealed, apparently too good to give into such banal tendencies as sticking up for herself. Ellex rolled her eyes; the woman didn’t need her help. She was doing just fine on her own.

“Well what’s next?” King Antyus asked, taking another languid sip of his drink. He leaned into his chair, not touching the dessert in front of him. “Is someone hiding a litter of kittens in their scabbard?”

Another titter of laughter curdled through the Great Hall, but it felt even more forced than the first. Everyone’s magic flexed and curled in their discomfort, threatening to choke Ellex. She hated it here. She hated seeing these stuck up heirs with their attitudes, she hated how vaguely threatening the King seemed to be, and she hated being the only one that didn’t have a magical weapon. She wasn’t made for this, and therefore was constantly sitting at a disadvantage. It was not a feeling that sat well with her.

She picked at her fruit pie, though the sweet crust and tender fruit did nothing to improve her mood. She didn’t bother paying attention to Barta and Ilane telling tales of the beasts they’d hunted in the mountains, or listen to Murette and Alsatia as they made thinly veiled flirts towards the King. Fort interjected any chance he got, trying to pull the attention back to him. They were all trying to make a good impression, to show that they should be the next King.

As if he was going to offer them some hint to where the crown was.

As if he had any say on who was next.

Part of Ellex was so mad at the situation, so frustrated by all these people who thought they would be the next best ruler, that for a moment she was inspired to go out and find the crown herself. After all, why shouldn’t she? She was an heir, just like them. And perhaps, being different than everyone else would make her a better ruler. Sure, she’d never ruled over anything, and she’d been groomed her whole life to be a second. But maybe that’s what the country needed: something different.

“I’m sure you’re all wondering exactly where this is going,” the King said. He’d been through a few glasses now, as had most of the people around him. Everyone sobered up instantly, sitting forward as if that would help them hear better. Ellex wanted to cover her ears, but this was the King speaking, and if he was giving any sort of clue…well, even if she wasn’t sure on her plan yet, she still needed all the information he could spare. “As you can see, I’m missing a certain accessory that I tend to wear…most of the time.

“I am, unfortunately, getting a little on in years. And while my mind is sharp, I won’t make the same mistake that my predecessor did, waiting until his second had to hide the crown for him. And his second wasn’t half the man mine is, so,” he waved his hand lazily, as if this meant something to them. Did he mean to imply that the man wasn’t good at hiding, or that he was easy to get the location from. “One of you - whomever finds my crown - will be the next ruler. The search begins tomorrow morning.”

“Must we wait, Your Grace?” Fort asked. His words, usually laced with confidence, were slow and measured, as if he were making sure he was saying them correctly. Was he drunk? Ellex flicked her eyes over to him, and it took a moment for her vision to catch up with the motion. Wait, was she drunk? She’d only had the one glass. The King smiled, and in the haze of the night, it looked menacing.

“You must,” he said, holding up his glass. “A toast. To the next King.”

“To the next King.” The words were a hum as they all tried to match his pitch. Ellex felt like her own tongue was sluggish and thick. She took a sip from her cup and ended up drinking deeply, the wine sweet and light. She didn’t even like wine. When she put the cup down, time seemed to slow down. Next to her, Axel groaned, putting his head into his hands. Across the room, Murette slumped into Alsatia, who didn’t look any steadier as she leaned heavily onto the table. Fort tried to stand and ended up crashing to the floor, Mara’s dog pushing quickly to her feet at the sudden noise. Mara was gripping the edge of the table, gritting her teeth as if she was holding back a cry of pain. Was she in pain? No one else seemed to be. Ellex certainly wasn’t. She was just tired. So very tired.

The other heirs were laying their heads down. Axel was snoring softly, his head tucked into his arms like a child. The King stood, his steps sounding far away as he strolled back to the door. The sound of his spurs clinking was soothing to her, lulling her further. He stopped between her and Mara, meeting each of their eyes in turn.

“Good luck. Don’t miss the forest for the trees,” he teased, continuing on past them. Ellex met Mara’s eyes, both of them struggling to keep them open. What did the King mean by that?

She could still hear his spurs as he walked away, the sound steadily retreating. Whatever he meant, she could figure it out in the morning. For now, she needed to sleep.

[seoulnotes]

Luce in altis   |   ix. A Familiar Face

S Y N O P S I S | Passed down from centuries worth of history, the remnants of a hatred between two kings reside in a small village that serves as a border between their two feuding kingdoms. y/n lives in that village and must seek aid from one of the kings. Her trust is tested when she learns of the king that is truly wicked.

C H A R A C T E R S | Kim Taehyung, Park Jimin, reader (y/n) ; (mentions of other members)

G E N R E | fantasy, romance, drama — royalty au ; PG-15

W A R N I N G S (chapter specific) | none

W O R D C O U N T | 4.8k

All parts here

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The following afternoon as Isobel had said, a seamstress arrived at the palace. She had brought many samples of fabrics with many colors and patterns.

I spent hours with the seamstress, instructed to stand still for some time while my measurements were taken and then picked different fabrics for tunics, trousers, dresses, and on and on.

My eyes landed onto a certain sheet of fabric that was brought by the seamstress. Flowers were embroidered onto the gray tulle but only along the bottom as if fading away towards the top. Unconsciously, my fingers rose to graze the fabric, taking in the texture of the flowers with their beadings that stood out amongst the tulle.

“My lady, do you like the fabric? It is more elaborate; we don’t usually use it for day dresses,” she explained.

“No, it’s fine, I was just looking.” It would be ridiculous to have any plain day dresses made from that fabric and it looked too expensive to just simply waste for that.

“I’m finished for today. Since we spent enough time gathering your measurements, the styles you prefer, and the fabrics, as the pieces finish, they will be sent to the palace.” She bowed and began to pack her sketches and fabrics.

“Thank you,” I said quietly.

“It was my pleasure.”

I felt like all I had to offer lately and especially at Hemera were thank you’s. I didn’t have anything besides what Jimin had provided me with as his guest.

That night Jimin had asked if I would dine with him alone or choose to dine in my chambers by myself as it was not usual for his entire court to dine together each evening. I agreed to dine with him since I was not fond of being alone during a meal. It would only remind me of my missing family and of the meals I had at Erebus.

I was surprised that he didn’t choose to dine at a grand table for dinner, but a private dining room.

“Do you dine by yourself here?”

He nodded with a half-smile. “It’s more comforting than a grand table by myself since I do not have family or others to dine with.”

The dinner was in fact as simple as the act of a king dining alone privately. It was not the large display Taehyung had at his dinner with guests rather something like sliced honey bread served on a plate along with vegetables and veal.

I was given a goblet of wine along with the meal.

“Do you have any intentions of courting anyone?” I was unsure of the appropriateness of my question, but I had already asked before I could rethink myself.

Jimin didn’t seem bothered thankfully and answered with genuineness. “When you are a ruler of a kingdom, it is hard to seek the true intentions of those who are around you. When you are busy reading their intentions, it becomes hard to make space in your heart for love.”

I nodded, half understanding what he had said. I can feel sympathy, but I was not a ruler and could not empathize with him. I did feel bad for the lonely position he had been dealt with.

“If I intend on finding a queen, I will want my marriage to be out of love, not out of an alliance.” The corners of his lips turned as he gave a self-deprecating chuckle, “Although, that is quite hard.”

We had such genuine conversations when we spoke and I much favored them to the conversations I had with Taehyung. He knew how to carry them well and most importantly, in these conversations, I felt like I was speaking to a friend who knew me well rather than a king who had the power to have me gone within seconds.

Soon, I felt a wave of fatigue cross me. We had long finished dinner but had spent a while talking about anything and everything that stemmed from our conversation. Jimin was speaking of a time when he was a young boy, centuries ago, when the kingdom was still one.

I did not know how our conversation had drifted there, but I was glad to hear of stories of a happy childhood.

Unfortunately, my fatigue was strong and I was not able to hear all the words; they were muddling together and my eyelids threatened to shut from heavyweights.

“Are you alright, y/n?” From my tired eyes, I could see the concern in his eyes.

“I just feel a bit tired, maybe since it is late. Perhaps, our conversation may continue another time?” My voice was dragged on, tongue barely curling enough to form proper words.

“Yes, you should return to your chambers and rest.”

I don’t know how, but it was black the moment I had hit my bed. Was I that tired?

I woke up to the beautiful daylight of Hemera, but a sour feeling on my tongue. My tongue felt like I had spoken words of betrayal; it tasted bitter, yet I had not eaten anything yet.

My mind fluttered back to last night’s conversation. I had spoken on Taehyung briefly, but it was nothing incriminating. I still felt like I had said something I was not supposed to.

Was I too drunk from a single glass of wine and let my mouth run?

I shook my head at the thought. I didn’t own a single detail in which I could betray him in any way. He had his own secrets that he had made sure to keep from me.

When a knock came to my door, I realized it was probably Isobel and my suspicions were confirmed when she peeped her head in.

“Good morning, your highness,” she bowed briefly at the door. “I hope you are well-rested. His Majesty had asked if you are rested enough to see more of the capital.”

It seemed that he had noted my fatigue last night but this morning, I was more than well-rested. I was hungry to explore more of the city.

“Of course.”

Although the seasons were still winter, it was like a completely different scene at Hemera. It was one thing I had failed to really take in until my second day at Hemera. With winter bleeding into the spring that was soon to arrive, the bitter cold was not there to bite, but rather a slightly chilly breeze one might experience during autumn. At the same time, I knew Erebus was much colder than here.

Interestingly, Jimin has dressed in extremely casual clothing, far from the embroidered tunic and jackets he wore. Instead, he adorned a simple white shirt and black trousers, neither with any decoration. The shirt wore loose on him and was tucked into the trousers.

My dress was along the lines of his clothing as well. The long dress was a plain off white with bell sleeve; the only decoration being the belt that tied at my waist. I wasn’t sure where this dress appeared from because it was not from my own clothes.

“How is it so warm? In Erebus, the weather was freezing the day we left.” We walked along a street which Jimin had claimed to be their famous street of crafts and many visitors of the kingdom came seeking a craft from this street whether it be clothing, art, or pottery.

“We’re much farther south. Our winter seasons are not as extreme. It’s great for the most part, but I miss the snow sometimes.”

Just as he finished speaking, we were steered around a corner. I spotted the bookstore and Jimin must have noticed my line of sight changing because his hand grasped mine as he pulled me towards it.

“I used to hate reading, but came to love it once I came to Erebus.”

“There’s a library at the palace since you like to read,” Jimin noted.

With a failed attempt at refusing, we were walking out of the bookstore, me an edition of “Through the Looking-Glass” in hand.

“If you had it in your library, I could just read it from there.” I couldn’t help the pout in my voice.

“I don’t, I swear! That’s why I bought it, I want it in my library,” He raised his hands in surrender.

“Thank you anyway,” my lips returned to a grateful smile.

“Anyway,” he drew out and I steered my focus to him, “what do you think about another ball?”

“Are you asking for my opinion for an event for your kingdom, Your Majesty?”

“Well, I’d like to know since it would be a ball in your honor,” he responded, hands tucking into his pockets.

“Why for my honor?” My brows furrowed in confusion.

“For one, you weren’t enjoying the ball at Erebus so I’d like for you to experience a different one. One here. Also, you’re my guest. My brother hosted a ball in my honor so I want to return the favor while you’re here,” he explained.

“You don’t need to,” I waved my hand. “It would be a lot of work and you’re already doing more than enough just showing me the capitol.”

“How about it would be my honor to host a ball?” He suggested, an eyebrow-raising to jokingly challenge me.

“Well, I don’t have a dress,” I responded.

“I’ll handle that,” a smirk curving on his lips because he knew he got me wrapped in his plans. “I guess it’s settled,” he clapped once in satisfaction, “a week from today, we’ll have a ball!”

I could only shake my head with a smile rising to my lips.

“Do you have anything, in particular, you’d like to see? To be honest, I ran out of ideas,” Jimin asked the next day over breakfast.

The spoon in my hand swirled the tea and then I remembered, “I believe I was owed a tour of the palace library.”

“Said who?” He brought a cup of coffee to his mouth with a teasing smile.

“Says you, Your Majesty.” No amount of holdings I had was able to stop the tease in my tone when I mentioned his title just to get a laugh.

So, I was left in awe as Jimin led me through the double doors revealing behind it the library. The walls were lined with shelves of books nearly two stories high which were only accessible with a ladder than ran along the walls.

“Wow,” my mouth left hanging agape.

After a few moments, Jimin was beside me and in his hand was the copy of “Through the Looking Glass” that he had bought yesterday.

“So, what made you like reading when you went to Erebus?”

I shrugged. “I didn’t realize that reading could take you away from reality.”

“Reality?”

“I guess the marriage wasn’t really what I had planned,” I revealed. In my mind, I was weighing whether or not to reveal more, to reveal why I was really at Erebus and what had taken place at my village.

“And reading took you away from that?”

I nodded. “Jimin, what do you think about the village between your two kingdoms?”

Why did I just ask that?

Taehyung’s voice rang in my head. A task that required me to look for mere humans of a defenseless village…

It would be better to see Jimin’s view beforehand right?

“It’s a shame that they have to be caught between all of this,” he said. “Why do you ask all of a sudden?”

I paused for a moment, attempting to wind up an excuse because clearly, his answer was not enough to compel me to give my true reason. “The festival happened recently; I was just wondering since it was on my mind,” my voice trailed off and I prayed that it was a good enough excuse.

Jimin seemed to have bought it as he nodded his head in response. “Yeah, a few months ago. I wish I was able to help the village with poverty, but the village is neutral land between our kingdoms. I can’t do anything.”

His hands secured behind his back as his gaze grazed passed shelves as if in deep thought with himself as he spoke.

I felt myself believing what he was saying. He had no reason to be telling me this if he hadn’t meant it.

Changing the subject, he asked, “Dinner tonight?” A faint smile on his lips.

“Of course.”

I found myself growing increasingly tired as nightfall came for days to come. Whenever I was at dinner right past nightfall, I would feel the heaviness on my eyelids and my mind beginning to grow lazy and losing attention easily.

Jimin noticed himself.

“Are you okay? You seem to easily tire recently. I’m going to send for a palace healer tomorrow.” Concern laced his voice and was present in his eyes. A frown took hold of his lips as he reached out a hand to grasp my arm gently.

“I’m not sure. I just feel like I have no energy to stay awake past certain times.” It was hard to muster the energy to even speak my words.

Jimin stood from his chair and wrapped an arm around my waist, helping me from my chair. “Here, I’ll walk you back to your bedroom.”

I only mustered the strength to nod. “Thank you,” my words came out in breaths.

Just like the past few nights, I entered the arms of sleep the moment I was in my bed. The last thing in my sight before my eyes shut was the worried frown on Jimin’s face.

As Jimin had stated the night before, a palace healer arrived in the morning following a concerned Jimin. The anxious king seemingly couldn’t stay still as the healer took my pulse. I felt perfectly fine when I woke up, but when night fell, especially after dinner, my energy disappeared into thin air.

I was sitting in bed having a healer examine me as if I was truly unwell with something.

“Her pulse is not weak, Your Majesty. There is no sign of illness.”

“Then why does she have such a lack of energy?” Jimin sounded annoyed at the lack of a diagnosis.

“I’m sorry, I am not able to tell if it is a condition I have not heard of before,” the healer bowed apologetically. Honestly, Jimin looked like he was ready to bring about punishment and I understood why the healer was frightened by his demeanor.

“It’s fine. I may not be resting enough,” I added to try and smooth over the healer’s lack of diagnosis and calm the irritated king.

“You’re dismissed,” Jimin waved a dismissive hand towards the healer.

The healer took another bow before leaving.

“It might be my fault,” I mustered a smile towards the displeased king.

“I’m going to send for herbal teas or something. It isn’t right my guest is feeling unwell in my palace,” he took my hand, letting his thumb gently sweep across the back of it.

“Thank you.” I was grateful he was placing so much care in a subject that was not as important. “Needn’t worry yourself over such an insignificant thing. It could be anything really, like getting used to the change in seasons so suddenly,” I suggested.

It really didn’t concern me as much as it seemed to concern Jimin.

“It’s just not settling that this is while you’re in my care. I couldn’t possibly return you in this state back to your home.”

Right, home. It was a reminder that I was technically still visiting this kingdom.

Taehyung wouldn’t care if I was on my death bed anyway.

“I assure you, the fatigue is gone by morning when I awake.” I offered a gentle smile.

Jimin sighed. “It could be the beginning of something more serious. At least drink the tea I send for later.”

I had no choice but to oblige to his request because God knew that he would just continue down the path of concern.

I had not seen much of Jimin for the next few days except when we met for dinner in which he would appear in the library where I was nose deep in another book or in my room, hands tucked behind his back and a smile on his face as he invited me to dinner.

Isobel didn’t ask in his place anymore.

The fatigue was not as frequent, only occurring sometimes and not every night as before. It settled Jimin’s worries.

Tonight was the night of the ball. Just as I had experienced at Erebus, the palace was in complete chaos. Even though I was the only guest from outside of the kingdom here, it seemed the decoration was just as elaborate.

“Your highness, I have your dress for the ball,” Isobel arrived in my bedroom with a white box in hand. She placed it down onto the coffee table and I rose from the bed to open it.

When I lifted the lid from the box, it revealed the familiar fabric with gray tulle and embroidered pale pink flowers.

My mouth went agape as my fingers glided across the fabric, through different flowers. Awe ran through me for a few seconds, how was this possible? How could Jimin possibly have the dress made?

“How could he have…,” I whispered to myself.

“His Majesty had ordered it from the seamstress that had come earlier this week,” Isobel responded.

I grasped the dress and pulled it from the box. It revealed a ballgown, full in the skirt as the flowers gathered at the bottom and dispersed as it reached the waistline. The dress had straps falling from the shoulder and the top focused on the flowers as well.

“It’s beautiful.” My eyes struggled to remove themselves from tracing through the dress over and over again.

“The ball will be in a few hours, do you want to begin preparing?”

I nodded, feeling eager to try on the beautiful gown.

Just like that, I was thrown into a flurry of activities beginning with bathing and ending with the dress being laced by Isobel and jewels being placed on me. Half of my hair was braided and wrapped around the crown of my head while the rest flowed down my back.

A knock came from the door.

“Come in.” I folded my hands together in front of me and waited. I knew it was Jimin who was behind the door.

The door opened to reveal a royal king, dressed like a true king, and standing like a true king. Jimin strode in, a smile gracing his lips. He wore an ivory suit jacket, the collar, and cuffs laced with gold trimming. Just beneath peeped a white dress shirt. Above his brow was a grand crown I had not seen much of.

I had not realized the gold crown had a jeweled sun in the center, but it only stood to represent the power he embodied.

Even a humble king didn’t miss the chance to dress for the occasion as rings adorned his fingers and a single earring hung from his ear.

“Beautiful,” Jimin spoke as he approached me.

The single word drew me from my thoughts and warmth to make its way to my cheeks as I bowed. “Thank you.”

“Shall we?”

He extended an arm for me as I took hold of it.

I didn’t know if I met Jimin’s standard of regalness, but he didn’t stop when we entered the ballroom allowing all eyes to fall upon us.

The similar feeling of self-consciousness fell onto me. I was definitely not the same flawlessness as them, but walking in with Jimin gave me a feeling of comfort.

People bowed and addressed their king as we walked by.

I wasn’t aware I gave away my thoughts until Jimin tipped his head over and whispered, “you look magnificent, don’t let any looks take that from you.”

Again, my cheeks felt warm and I ducked my head out of habit. I didn’t want to reveal the blush on my face. “Thank you, Jimin,” I replied, grateful.

His words kept some of the insecurity at bay.

“I think you’ll find our balls enjoyable,” he commented as he reached for two flutes of bubbling wine and handed me one.

“I’m already enjoying this much more,” I revealed.

“Then I’ve partially completed my mission tonight.” He took a sip from the flute, a satisfied smile on his lips.

My brows furrowed. “What mission?”

“Well, first, make sure you attend a ball and actually have fun,” he began. “Then, a waltz in much better music.”

He had remembered my note about the music from Erebus’s ball.

I felt a strike of courage as I asked, “then the waltz?”

“Would you do me the honor then?” Jimin picked up on my question as he plucked the flute from my hand and placed both glasses down before extending a hand to me with a curt bow.

“Of course, we’ve got to complete your mission right?” I took his hand as he led me towards the center of the ballroom.

As though the orchestra had known, another song had begun to play. Jimin was right, the music was better.

I realized I was not as terrible as when I had first danced in Erebus. Even though it was only the second or third time, my footing had gotten better.

We took a few steps before I remembered.

“How did you have this dress prepared?” He couldn’t have known about the fabric.

“The seamstress mentioned the fabric from when she came to take your measurements and I thought you’d like it for the dress,” he said, a clear smile due to how well received his choice was.

“I love it.”

With that, Jimin released a hand to spin me from him and pulled me back to him which caused me to release a laugh.

“I’m glad you did,” and this time, we were closer than before, his voice next to my ear. “Who knows how upset I would be if you didn’t,” he joked.

It felt more intimate, more intimate than we had ever been. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy this closeness and feared my heart was starting to fall for Jimin. Yet, I had to remind myself that publicly I was betrothed to Taehyung and had yet to dispel that.

Before I had a chance to distance myself to stand as an upcoming monarch of a different kingdom, Jimin moved first. It was clear there was displeasure on his features, a slight frown was on his lips and his eyes flitted around the room.

“I want to show you something.”

I allowed his hand to slip into mine and tug me from the ball. He led me down a hallway and into a room.

“Where are we?”

“Somewhere that isn’t the ballroom.”

“Why?”

“To be honest, I apologize for the way my people may have been treating you.”

I knew what he was talking about yet my brows furrowed in confusion. “What made you say that?”

“In the ballroom—,” he started. He didn’t have to finish.

“They were watching us dance,” I finished for him. “It’s alright, I understand I’m the outsider here.” I kept my tone casual because I had faced more discrimination at Erebus than simply people giving me strange looks.

“It was still discourteous,” he interjected.

“No, it’s fine. I mean it.” I gave a small smile. “I promise.”

“I’ll try to keep the impoliteness at bay.”

“So I assume that there wasn’t really something for you to show me,” I gestured to the room we were in. It was another empty bedroom in the palace.

“Actually,” he drew out.

I realized our hands were still intertwined as his thumb gently ran across the back of mine. He pulled me towards a pair of glass doors. This was something new that I had not noticed before.

“I intended to apologize, but this room also has a balcony with an amazing view,” he said cheekily.

“I’m jealous Jimin, I was not given a balcony in my room,” I teased him.

Leaning against the rails of the balcony, silence settled. We could only hear the gentle howling of the wind and the rest of the capital with all its lights in the distance.

“How about dancing here without prying eyes and impolite frowns?” Jimin suggested.

“In the silence?” I gave him a strange look although there was no refusal in my tone.

“The better.” He extended a hand which in a split second, I placed my hand into. His other hand fell below my shoulder which allowed my arm to rest upon as my hand landed on his shoulder.

In the silence, we waltzed. The only sound came from our shoes shuffling as we moved.

“You were right,” I said with an amused smile.

“I’m full of good ideas.” His mouth curved.

We paused in the dance and my heart began to race. With the moonlight cascading over the side of his face, I was able to finally see the king before me. It was different from whenever I had seen it before.

I noticed the way his eyes were twinkling in the moonlight and how they shaped with the smile he wore. I liked that smile a lot.

His eyes found purchase on my lips and I couldn’t help but mirror his actions, allowing my eyes to fall to his. The intention was there.

He leaned in then his soft lips were on mine. It was not a long kiss, rather a short one filled with enough emotion. It was clear where the intention of the kiss had come from. I kissed back to my own surprise and allowed myself to lean into his body with my hands finding their way to behind his neck.

He returned by circling his arms on my waist, pulling me flush against him. For the first time, I felt my flutters inside my chest and that warm feeling that made me want to seek more. For the first time in a while, I had felt safe and I felt safe in Jimin’s arms.

We were both surprised when we separated. I assumed my pupils matched his, dilated. I don’t know if the sudden kiss opened a door of trust for me, but I was compelled to tell him. “Jimin, I have something to tell you.”

His eyes encouraged me to continue and I was about to, mouth opening to tell him about my family and village who was taken away until there was a knock on the door that pulled the opportunity right from beneath my feet.

We escaped from each other’s arms and distanced ourselves. “Come in.” Jimin brought his authoritative tone back.

I’m sure my eyes grew wide and my heart plunged into my stomach when a familiar face appeared in a whirlwind of white.

It was a man that resembled the guard in my dreams of my village in the dungeon. The same nasty scar was beside his right eye.

I shook my head slightly. No, it was just someone who looked like him. He was a soldier, of course, he had battle scars.

My dreams were definitely not real.

A more unsettling feeling came when my curiosity surfaced. Was it possible?

I was nauseous immediately at the consideration. I had to be mistaken. My dreams are not real. They cannot be.

Why did this person resemble someone from my dream? I swallowed and began to reason my thoughts. This was a possibility, someone in my dream could look similar to others in reality.

My eyes were on the upper arm of the man’s armor searching for his crest. The fear settled. It was not the same crest from my dream. No bleeding moon. It was rather a sun with crossed swords below it. It certainly had to be the royal guard’s crest.

The guard eyed me strangely before clearing his throat.

“Pardon me, Your Majesty, it is time to discuss the guests from the continent and their stay.”

“Yes, I will meet you in the cabinet room in a moment. You’re dismissed.”

After the guard left, Jimin turned his attention from the door. “I’ll see you later?”

I had been too distracted by the thoughts of the guard to fully regard the nervousness in his tone and nodded.

I barely noticed him leaving the room.

Even though the chances were small, I couldn’t settle the thoughts that urged me to consider the possibility that this was someone from my dreams. And if he had been real, were my dreams real?

I shook my head at the thought.

Foolish, they were foolish. There was nothing besides a simple resemblance to someone from my dreams to point me towards the insane idea that my dreams were entirely real.

a/n

lowkey a little bit of filler and i hate some parts i wrote, but i really wanted more development with jimin’s character and y/n & his relationship which is how this chapter came to be, hope you enjoy reading it though! :)

[also really sorry to say this but i kinda dug myself into a whole of writer’s block for this series and might (potentially but not sure yet depending on the outlook of the next two weeks) put this series on hiatus or have the next chapter be posted in longer than the two weeks marks between chapters :( it’s just been tough to write the next chapter because i’m not really sure how i want to write it and i love this series too much (and it needs the justice) to just force myself to write it and have it written terribly. i really hope it doesn’t happen though]

yours truly, Selene ♡

[soartfullydone]

Ah, Miss Boggess, there you are. Timofey's been driving me mad. He said he's found you the most luxurious gown—I do hope you plan to contribute funds, this isn't Cresce after all—and he wanted to know what your preference in masks might be. I beg you not to be too gaudy, I refuse to be upstaged. And you know how Alderode can be when its women are too bold.

I don’t know if this is anything but oh well!

Melody squinted up at the wright who’d waltzed into her space, disturbing her work with his near-incessant chatter. Bastion was in a good mood, then, complaints about Timofey aside, which suited her because technically her space belonged to him. The entire safe house did. She had done her best to clear out the papers, books, empty wine bottles, and other assorted debris from a corner of the room and remain undisturbed while disturbing no one. That plan had mostly worked until now.

Mercifully, when she met Bastion’s black gaze, he was clothed this time. As ever, he wore that same silver torc she never saw him without and was swathed in black. The v-neck cut of his shirt extended all the way down to his naval, which was downright modest of him even if she did get an eyeful, sitting on the floor as she was. He towered over her as he braced a forearm against the wall in a casual lean, intent on having her answer. 

With a sigh, she lowered her writing instrument and, bypassing his comments entirely, extended the papers she was working on toward him, all business. “Here.” 

On each page’s surface was a series of facial composite sketches. She’d drawn every Ald and Sharte who’d been on that beach when the cache of First Silver was stolen to the best of her memory. Had done similarly for nearly every job she’d ever taken as an assassin. Killing the wrong mark was embarrassing—and clean-up was messier. Experience was the harshest and best teacher.

Which is why she knew she was missing something about that night. It eluded her as much as the identity of their mysterious thief.

“Well, I wouldn’t submit these to any museums if I were you, darling,” Bastion commented, straightening up and listlessly flipping through the pages. “I trust you won’t be offended by my firm refusal to display these. We’re both adults here.” 

Melody fought back the urge to roll her eyes. “Is there anyone there you don’t recognize?”

His black brow lifted minutely, and he studied the pages more thoroughly, eyes passing over every face and noting the ones marked dead with an x beside them. “Only this ugly fellow. Such an unfortunate nose. I hope he at least gets his use out of it between a woman’s thighs.”

As he showed her the sketch, Melody did not check her smile. It was all teeth. “That’s you. Before the glamour dropped.”

“Such a generous perception you have towards us merry Alds. You even took me for a soud! Some don’t believe the Golds are true Aldishmen at all, you know.”

“Is that what you think?”

“My dear murderess, I have grown quite immune to the opinions of my countrymen.”

“But there’s no one else?” she pressed, nodding towards the papers in his hands. “No one who looks different to you because they might’ve also been glamoured?”

“Afraid I was the only wright who came prepared and armed with intelligence.” Bastion handed the stack back to her, a dry smile appearing on his lips. “Which is a glowing commendation to the clever bastard who managed to escape unseen with my Silver.”

“Our Silver,” corrected Melody, tossing the papers aside. So that had been for nothing. If she hadn’t been keen on killing their saboteur when they found him, she sure was now. Irritated, she rubbed the bridge of her nose. “So sorry I missed the lad. I was preoccupied ensuring that a certain prepared and intelligent wright didn’t succeed in cutting open one of my major arteries.”

“You should’ve shown your face sooner, little Sharte. It might have given me pause.”

Melody climbed to her feet, extended her arms over her head, and stretched. A few vertebrae popped, and her tense muscles loosened the slightest bit. She felt more than saw Bastion’s gaze travel along the arch of her back, but she paid it no mind. Behind his charismatic mien, she heard the dripping disdain he had for her. His client—Beadman’s buyer—might have botched the whole deal with the First Silver, but Bastion still pinned plenty of blame on her, the unexpected Sharteshanian wright who’d gotten in the way. For now, he tolerated her presence. He did not like her.

She felt the same way toward him, but reclaiming the Silver took priority over personal feelings. They would succeed and be out of each other’s hair much faster by working together than going it alone. Or so attending this Jet-only fête was supposed to prove. 

“Timofey found me a dress, you said?”

“A gown,” stressed Bastion. “Regrettably, the event we’re attending is a respectable affair. On its surface, at any rate. No simple frock will do.”

“But let me guess. Full masks are too elaborate? Then, an eye mask is fine. I don’t care what’s on it, so long as it’s discreet.” If she was unable to completely hide her face as she skulked around, announcing her presence with a gaudy accessory wouldn’t help. In that regard, she and Bastion were in agreement. “I know my business, my lord. There’s no reason for you to be afraid I’ll top you—that’s not what I meant!”

Eventually, Bastion stopped laughing.

Eventually.

Melody didn’t know how Timofey lived with this man. In a figurative sense since Timofey wasn’t technically alive. At least the spirit seemed to like her or at least took some form of pity on her. If it truly was a gown he’d spied for her, that meant a long skirt. Which meant she could still wear her knives, including her dagger of First Iron. Thank the Twins. “If you do see Timofey before me, thank him, won’t you?”

“And when should I expect to hear praise fall from those acerbic lips, hm?” He shadowed her steps as she navigated through the cluttered safe house, past overturned chairs and tables overflowing with more papers, sheet music, cigarette buds, and half-full whisky tumblers. Without a hint of shame at the state of it all, he twirled a hand to indicate the room. “For providing you with all this?”

“Of course I’m grateful,” Melody allowed, her tone laced with irony. “My one regret—besides this whole thing—is that I can’t burden you less, but unfortunately, my benefactor has chosen Fachlyne for his roost. Only the most dangerous place in Kasslyne, but no matter.”

“You say that yet you haven’t even seen our shining capital! Although, that sarcasm of yours is almost charming. You must be a real brat in bed, aren’t you?” 

She spun, fixing him with an annoyed glare.  “Look, Winalils, about the gown. Don’t take this the wrong way—”

“Ach, an oft-used phrase that always achieves what it intends, but do continue.”

“The reason Timofey has my thanks is because I’m more confident that he has taste. I was terrified you’d be picking something out, and it would equate to dental floss.”

“So taking care of one’s teeth isn’t a total myth in Sharteshane.” Bastion’s mouth quirked, and he regarded her with half-lidded eyes, taking a single step closer. “For a worshipper of supposed divine beings, you have little faith. If I dressed you, darling, it would be to flatter. Death and danger each have their forbidden appeal, and a master assassin should know how to use both to seduce her prey. If you’ve never heightened your assets to such titillating ends—when you certainly have the ass and tits to do so—then perhaps we should change that sometime. Besides…” He was close enough for his cool breath to caress her neck. “Are you quite sure you’d mind overmuch playing the doll for me?” 

Her face hot, Melody shoved him back into the edge of a table to his audible amusement. “If you’re going to be a fucking prick, I’d rather hash out the rest of this with Timofey.”

“He can’t take your coin. And as adorable as you look all riled up like a bitch in heat, that’s why I’m here.”

Jaw clenching, Melody thought about biting his extended hand. Y’know, if she was going to be such a riled-up bitch. Instead, she retrieved her coin pouch, which was nowhere close to full, and concentrated on counting out a suitable amount of sems rather than test Bastion’s knowledge of using pymary through touch. The coins clinked as they fell into his open palm, the grim sight of her dwindling funds cooling her anger.  

“About that,” said Melody in a flinty tone, returning to business. “I didn’t exactly plan on an extended stay in Alderode, and the First Royal Bank of Sharteshane isn’t within walking distance. I was thinking we might amend our… arrangement.”

Bastion was already turning from her, waving a dismissive hand. “If you’re looking for charity—”

“We’re not going to find our man at this thing. Reconnaissance never goes that smoothly. We might find a lead at best,” Melody said, stepping in front of him. If he didn’t want to listen to her, he could offset away and leave her coin behind. “But that doesn’t mean it has to be a huge waste of time. Nobles are the same everywhere. They have secrets to hide. You want me to find those secrets for you, I will. Want to blackmail someone? Done. Need someone tailed after the party? Done. This might even be easier for me to do here than in Sharteshane. Women are just supposed to be part of the decor, aye?”

“Aye, except for here, it seems.” His words were clipped, but he gave her an appraising look, almost challenging. “They are also to stay where they can be seen, not wandering into forbidden places without an escort.”

“What’s that matter to me? My reputation here is a fabrication. I’m not an Aldish lady. I’m the Shade. I don’t exist.” Melody took a short, bracing breath, but what was the point in holding back now? “Listen, Winalils, this is the closest I get to selling myself, and I do take my business as seriously as a heart attack. At least tell me you’ll consider it.” 

“I already am. What I’m curious about is what you want in return.”

“A guarantee of shelter. Food, clothes, just the basics. To know that when I sleep I’ll be safe.”

His eyes narrowed. “That’s all?”

“Aye. When I say basics, I mean basics. And I don’t want to pay for another fucking dress. Sell them after or give them to one of your lays, I don’t care. But if I drop coin in this country, it’s going to be because I—we—had no other choice. I’m not going back to—” Melody stopped talking, memories carding through her mind too quickly to land on any one. Her Sharte accent was thick as she ended with, “Anywho, those’re me terms.”

For the first time since their conversation started, Melody thought Bastion looked tired. His frown somehow deepened the perpetual shadows under his eyes, which had taken on an unreachable distance. As quickly as the sight appeared, it was gone. His chin-length black hair moved just so as he tilted his head back to look down his straight nose at her, his shrug as equally careless. “I accept them, provided that my end of the bargain will only be honored on the delivery of yours.”

“That’s how it’s done.” Melody jutted out her hand, ready to seal the deal the Sharteshanian way. A bone-breaking handshake—sans the spit. They were in plague territory after all, and assassin though she was, she merely flirted with death; she didn’t court it. Bastion’s hand enfolded hers, his long fingers encasing her own. Bloody pianist hands. It didn’t bother her at all to turn their handshake into a biting vise, didn’t surprise her that Bastion winced as his bones creaked ever so slightly.

What did surprise her and cause her whole body to freeze was when, on the third pump, he bowed low and brought her hand to his lips, his mouth landing hot on her knuckles. His wet tongue slid between the skin of her middle and ring finger, his eyes flicking up to hers when she hissed. His mouth stretched into an unforgiving, unrepentant smile. 

The Aldish way to seal the deal, with a healthy side of Black Tongue.

Of course, she didn’t know that at the time.

[userdokja]

A month up to you. | Steve Rogers x Reader {Two.}

Summary: After the Supersoldier saves your life, You'll do anything to thank him back.

part two to: Twenty five years and Fifty eight more.

Warnings: Just fluff and two really shy people who has a crush on each other. My Writing and Grammar

A/N: Thank you so much for the feedback on the first one! I hope you enjoy this!!

----

You and Steve went for that drink and  took a long walk, you still couldn't believe that you were going to live longer and Steve must've noticed how excited you were about it because you kept on rubbing your index finger.

"Thank you, again." You said to him.

"and again, you're welcome." He gave you a smile that made you heart leap out of your ribcage.

"It's just.. I've been prepared for this day my whole life. Invented a hundred scenarios in my head thought of ways to survive, and then you came." He chucked and sipped the remaining amount of his drink before throwing it away to the nearest trash can.

"Have you ever thought of yours?" He raised his eyebrows at your question.

"Well- yes, I believe everyone has but I chose not to think of it often, not to stress about it or fear it, and I didn't try to figure out how It'll happen because If I do, I'm basically putting myself through it a hundred times before it even happens."

He was right.

"Huh." you sighed, "That was... deep. how long is your timer anyways?"

"Er.. a month?" Your eyebrows curled at his answer.

"It can't be just- hold on, You're the Captain America! You're injected with the super serum.. You can't just have a month!" You exclaimed, you see his smile falter slightly.

"I didn't just have months, I used to have almost a decade." He said as if that was going to make you feel better.

"Well, you didn't get to live it." You frowned, then an Idea came to your mind. "How about we.. try to prevent it."

"Y/n, no."

"F-fine!" It was obviously not fine, like really not fine. "How about I help you enjoy the most of it? We've got a month, Well... you have a month." Steve looked at you in the eyes, with the determination in your y/e/c ones he knew there was no way of talking you of of this.

"Alright then, My one last month is In your hands Ms. L/n."

Let's just say It's the best idea you've ever thought of.

----

Your parents were surprised when you told them about your timer, and you were sure your dad was about to pass out when you told him that it was Captain America that made it happen.

You're dad was one of those Captain America fans who had the posters and the cards that was around his office, while your mom just supported him through his obsession.

"And, I also want him to enjoy his last month alive. So, If you did it for me can I atleast do it for him too?" You waited for your parent's answer patiently, knowing that your dad would immediately agree.

"Of course, If that's a way to thank him." You smiled at your mom's answer gratefully.

"Well, Day one starts tomorrow! where do you think we should go?"

----

Day one.

You met Steve at the spot where you almost died, you told him to meet you there because it was easier to find him there.

"Well Captain, ready for the first day?" He was dressed in casual clothes, a white shirt, jeans and leather a leather jacket. Since you were the daughter of the owners of a big company you had a lot of suitors.

They all wore these fancy suits, had expensive cars. But you all turned them down anyways, Well except for this poor dude who you spilled your drink on so you didn't have time to say no to him.

But Steve Rogers? Gosh, what an angel.

"Yeah, Let's go." You walked tot he parked car on the side of the street and the door was opened for you by your driver, Harry.

The ride was silent and Steve was looking around as the car moved, You had time to think about your stupid crush on the man beside you. It was probably he saved your life or because of those pretty eyes and him being a gentleman all the time, or you're just crushing on him really bad.

"We're here." You didn't even realize you were thinking that long before Harry announced that you arrived.

"Thanks Harry, you can get yourself something while we go in." You said before slipping out of the car with Steve.

"Where are we exactly?" He asked.

"We're in an art store, My dad told me you liked drawing."

"Your dad?" your answer just lead to more questions.

"A story for another time, Let's just go in." You were actually excited to go in, yourself. While Steve was still curiously looking around.

"do you want anything?" Steve took a deep breath.

He ended up buying a sketch book 3 pencils, and a set of colour pencils. He went to pay for it but you told him you got it covered already. You walked around to look for a place for him to draw which ended up being the park, You left him to draw and wandered around for a bit.

"Hey, miss." A small boy tapped your hand. "You're really pretty."

"Awww, thank you. And you don't look bad yourself, What's your name little man?"

"I'm Troy." You kneeled down to his height and shook his tiny hands.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Y/n." not long enough, a woman walked towards the both of you.

"You really need to stop walking around by yourself." She picked Troy up. "I'm sorry if he was bothering you.. I'm his mom."

"He wasn't bothering me at all, He's really sweet." The mother thanked you for the compliment.

"We better get going, Still have some groceries to do." Troy waved goodbye at you before walking away with her mom. You walked back to see Steve still working on his drawing, you sat beside him and asked.

"What are you drawing?"

----

Steve's Point of View.

Steve saw you with that little boy and knew he had to draw it, the way you smiled was Perfect.

"What are you drawing?" Your voice startled him, he was too focused on drawing your dress.

"I'm showing you when I finish it." But he was already finished, he was just too shy to show it.

"I know this small diner near here, my dad's friends with the owner since childhood and basically obsessed over you too back then. But other than that they have really good food." Steve could never say no.

"Sounds fun."

A/N: there's more to come!! I hope you enjoyed this one! Love you all!

Permanent tags: @aintnouseofpretending @heartbeats-wildly @vibhati123 @just4muggles

Series tags: @star-spangled-steve @songforhema @animegirlgeeky

Marvel tags: @hollymac79

I thought you wanted to see a part two so I'm ragging you tell me if you don't want to be tagged: @mycupoffanfiction @everything-is-awesomesauce

[arianaofimladris]

A place called home

An escaped prisoner faces the mistrust of his kin and seeks a place that would accept him.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20375554/chapters/64439761

Part III

 "You should be more careful with that stranger."

Alcarino turned and saw a guard still watching the door suspiciously, his hand on the sword grip. Oelon was one of the Sindar who had decided to join Maedhros. Never had Alcarino seen him so wary and displeased, though their acquaintance was rather brief.

"Mistoron?" Alcarino feigned mild surprise, even as he already suspected where this was going to lead. "I don't think he would have the strength to actually do something, least of all intentionally. He's famished and worn out."

"He may be a spy." Oelon puffed and folded his arms on his chest. "You know of his lot. It would be regretful to see you harmed. We all value your skill."

"Yet you don't seem to trust my abilities," Alcarino observed coldly. "Lord Maedhros hasn't deemed any company necessary, nor does he see Mistoron as a danger."

"The lord's judgement in that matter is biased and you know it."

"Is it?" the voice behind Oelon was so cool it could freeze the air. "Why didn't you come to me to voice your concerns instead of bothering Alcarino?"

The Sinda turned on his heel and faced Maedhros, for it was he who had approached them so quietly. "I only mean...” Whatever he intended to add, the words seemed to stuck in his throat.

"Speak no more." Maedhros's eyes blazed brightly. "I have heard about these concerns. And I know Mistoron has already experienced the hospitality you speak of." He spat out the last words with disgust. "I will not have anyone call Himring uninviting. Everyone who wishes to dwell here is welcome to do so and to be a part of this fortress. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, my lord," Oelon bowed his head, but mistrust did not leave his features. Alcarino hoped he would wise enough not to voice his unfounded doubts again.

***

But the matter returned and sooner than Alcarino anticipated. The evening had not yet come when Oelon reported that Mistoron was missing from his room. He dared not vocalize his doubts in front of Maedhros again, but he had no such trouble talking to the healer.

"I told you! It wasn't wise or safe to let him move freely around the fortress and now he's gone somewhere!"

Alcarino sighed inwardly. He believed when Oelon claimed that their new companion was not in the room he had been offered. He also doubted Maedhros would act rashly towards a former prisoner of Morgoth, more likely towards Oelon, yet he wished to be present nonetheless, so he followed the guard to the great hall, where Maedhros was likely to be found among his people at this time of day.

As they entered, Alcarino looked around. There were fewer elves than he expected, and the lord was absent as well, so perhaps there was some additional training or meeting he wasn't aware of. Yet there was no need to disturb Maedhros, whatever he was doing.

"Do you really regard Mistoron as a threat?" Alcarino asked Oelon and pointed to the right.

There, curled on one of the benches standing alongside the wall opposite to the windows facing the inner yard, slept their missing guest. Whatever had chased him from his room, clearly had not got him here, as he seemed to be at peace. He was wearing the fresh clothes he had been given, but as he slept, he kept what little he possessed pressed against his chest.

“I wouldn’t disturb the lord if I were you,” said Alcarino. “And let Mistoron stay wherever he pleases, since he is not our prisoner.”

***

Alcarino settled for making sure their guest was well fed and his wounds and sores tended to, but otherwise kept his distance and watched him from afar. Mistoron rarely hid within the walls of the room he was given. Most often he could be found in the hall. He mentioned briefly that the bustle of normal life around him made him feel safe and most of the Noldor didn’t mind him joining them if he wished. Alcarino asked no questions and did not return to the matter of resetting his hand.

On the third day it was Mistoron who sought him out. He came to have his wounds checked, then hovered as the healer cleaned his tools.

"My hands yearn to pick the tools and for once make something of my choosing," he blurted finally and stopped as abruptly as he began, looking at Alcarino with sudden fear what his outburst would bring.

But the healer nodded in acknowledgement. "For that you will have to wait till you are healed.”

Bracing himself, Mistoron looked up. “Do it. If it is as you say, please fix my hand.”

“Thank you,” Alcarino offered him a gentle smile. “Is there anything you would like to know beforehand?”

Mistoron opened his mouth, but the words seemed to have left him. “You... You said you would put me to sleep?” He asked finally. “That I will not...”

“You will not be awake. You will sleep for several hours afterwards,” explained Alcarino and motioned Mistoron to sit back again. “Your hand will probably bother you for the next few days, until the swelling goes down, but I have means to help. You will not be left alone in this.”

Sinking in the offered chair, Mistoron heard little of what the healer said later as he explained the details of the surgery. There. He did it. He would let this strange Noldo touch... hurt him. The idea paralysed him, though he tried to convince himself that the healer was right. He could probably still refuse and run away, but he had no one else to go and talk to. Nobody here was close to him, though the few he had made acquaintance with seemed to care about his wellbeing. And the only person who knew what he had experienced...

“If you ask him, he will come to assist me and stay,” the healer offered him a kind smile. “Lord Maedhros. If you want. He will understand.”

"No, no," Mistoron shook his head fervently. He wished not to bother the lord. "If only..." he stopped, a wave of shame forcing the words back down his throat.

"I cannot offer you what I don't know you need," Alcarino reminded him gently.

"I... CanIhavemorefoodfirst?" Eyes shut, he didn't dare as much as draw a breath, feeling his bluntness was too much.

But the healer was nothing but kind, though he shook his head in denial. "For what I am about to give you, it's best to have an empty stomach, lest you feel ill. But if you wish so, there will be food for you waiting when you wake.”

"I-I'm sorry.”

"There is no need. Please wait here for me.”

***

It went better than Mistoron expected. Just like the healer had promised, he remembered nothing from the surgery and woke in his own bed as the sun was already setting. Alcarino had given him medicines and left more food than necessary, but Mistoron didn’t feel like eating. He laid and rested, so a sudden knocking startled him.

"Enter," he called, wondering who wished to see him, since the healer had promised to come again in the morning.

The door opened.

"My lord-" Mistoron sat at once, ready to rise, but Maedhros motioned him to stay seated.

"I just wanted to see how you fare," he said, his flamed eyes examining the new member of his household. He had a scroll tucked under his right arm, which made Mistoron wonder whether he had come straight from some meeting.

"Oh, please," Mistoron awkwardly pointed at the only chair in the room and, despite earlier dismissal, he sat straight in bed.

The lord must have realised how imposing he was standing there, towering over Mistoron, for he sat casually, as if it was common of him to step into his people's quarters for a chat. "How do you feel?"

Mistoron blinked in surprise. "Umm... Confused," he admitted. He wasn't unwell and the freshly re‑broken hand didn't bother him, but his mind seemed foggy and some thoughts seemed to escape him before he managed to grasp them. He felt weak and Alcarino had warned him to be careful, since the procedure of re‑setting his hand had been taxing to his malnourished body, but otherwise he was doing far better than he had expected.

Maedhros glanced at the concoctions left by the healer and nodded in understanding. "Oh yes, these things tend to do that with your mind. It will pass. Meanwhile, if you feel up to it, I would like you to have a look at this." Maedhros unrolled the paper, which turned out to be a plan of a chamber. Mistoron moved closer to have a better view. "You said you were a carpenter and I have a commission for you. We need a set of chairs and matching shelves for my council room."

"Oh." What the lord spoke of was a representative place then, one where he probably met the King's emissaries and other important guests.

Seeing that he had Mistoron's attention now, Maedhros continued, his own interest visible. "I rarely have the pleasure of designing anything these days, but at least I sketched the room for you with vague ideas where I would like to have the new furniture placed. It desperately needs refreshing. I know you are not up to work yet, but I am curious to see your ideas."

"Of course, my lord," Mistoron uttered, overwhelmed by the amount of trust he was being given. The Lord did not even consider that Mistoron's work might not be to his taste. He seemed genuinely interested in possible new ideas and designs and Mistoron remembered what he had heard of Feanor his father and of the Noldor, as well as their love for crafts. The few times he had seen Maedhros so far, he had first and foremost been the Lord of Himring. Now it seemed their meeting was private and the lord allowed himself to enjoy the idea of designing and planning, even if he himself would not participate in the process of crafting.

"I believe you have met Istime," Maedhros continued. "She agreed to work with you, but also to show you our ways around here. She will join you when you are ready. Just don't overdo yourself. Alcarino is a good friend, but he is a better healer and can be stern for your best interest. It is wise to heed his advice." Maedhros left the sketches on the desk and stood up. "You are welcome to join us whenever you wish, if you feel up to it," he reminded Mistoron again.

“Thank you, my lord.”

[undertaleartistshit]

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23186284/chapters/60573760#workskin

Aaand the next chapter of my fanfic is out! Btw, does anyone know how to put it under a cut? Cuz idk how 👀

____________

Chapter 2: Morning Meeting

The loud, repetitive beeping of the alarm shook Ink out of his slumber. He didn't dare open his eyes, his head felt too groggy and hazy to even think about properly waking up, however his alarm didn't fail its job of annoying him awake. Despite having no true emotions and having to rely on bottles of paint to feel, Ink made it day to day acting - almost - like a normal monster. He was happy, sassy, bright, he got annoyed *very* easily, and... he was forgetful. Was that an emotion? Ink didn't know, no one ever told him. No one explained exactly what feelings were to him. Since he FELT forgetful, he just assumed it was a feeling everyone got, just like happiness or sadness or whatever else.

Ink opened his eyes to a ceiling marbled silver and gold and walls filled with papers and ideas, sketches mostly. Color peeked through every few inches, giving the room an incomplete feeling and giving Ink the adequate motivation to get up. He hated incomplete things, hated the way it made his head ache and his spine tingle and his chest tighten. He switched the alarm off, wincing at the bright red colored numbers. 6:30. He slid his legs off the bed onto the hardwood floor, not bothering to make the bed. By his logic he was going to sleep in it again in a few hours and felt no reason to waste time on tidying it. Although it was quite contradictory to his hate of incompletion, Ink just didn't have the energy to care about the bed. It wasn't like magic or a drawing; sometimes it doesn't do what you want it to. Some days the fabric is just wrinkly, for example.

He stood up slowly, careful to not jostle his skull too much, and wove his way through the stacks of notebooks and papers and whatnot, careful not to knock anything over as he made his way to the door, the only think uncovered by paper. He took his sash off of the hanger set off to the side and made his way through the house to the living room. It was empty.

Ink was then hit with the memory of the previous night, realizing his mistake far to late.

Meanwhile, Blue was already awake in his tidy room, silently scribbling away ideas and plans at his large desk. He rarely needed sleep and he considered himself lucky, for the most part. He had only slept 3 hours the night before, but he didn't dare go to the kitchen or turn on any significant light source, in case Dream was awake. Dream was like an older and overprotective sibling, however Blue refrained from considering Dream a brother.

He wrote down idea after idea, answer after question, in beautiful cursive handwriting. He was almost done when a soft alarm went off in his pocket. He took out his rather modern phone, shutting off the buzzing immediately. He sighed softly, looking at the time. 6:30 already. Unlike the other Star Sanses and despite what people thought about Blue, he preferred to keep his phone on a dark setting and color scheme. In fact, most objects in his room where either a soft neutral color or a darker color. His eyes didn't burn that way.

He stood up, putting his pen down and pulling out a sweatshirt to wear instead of a tang top. It reminded him of his battle body. He never put it on anymore. He was pretty sure he burned it or at least tossed it. In the past. He shook his head, pulling the grey article of clothing over his skull and left the room soundlessly. He wasn't in the mood to get snapped at by either of his teammates, and no amount of them saving him could put him in the mood for that.

He stopped before going into the living room, taking a second to stop and self reflect. He was still riled up from being kidnapped just two days ago, plus last night's argument between Dream and Ink, and he needed some time to calm himself. He couldn't go into battle like this or even simply have a civilized discussion without his survival instincts kicking in. He had to tell Ink and Dream about it but he had no idea how the two would react. He wanted to put it off but if something happened than he would have no choice. Despite this, he decided to wait.

Blue casually strolled into the room, sitting down besides Ink on the couch, who seemed to be just... blah. "Mornin' Blue," Ink mumbled with a sour biting tone. "Good morning, Ink. Did you sleep well?" Blue inquired softly, keeping his naturally attention seeking voice low. Ink let out a 'hmpf', and let his head flop backwards. "I got sleep but there was no quality to it, if you understand what I mean." Blue didn't quite know what he meant, but he nodded believably anyways.

Dream suddenly walked into the room with a bright and happy pace. "Up and at 'em you two! We have things to do today." Ink groaned rather dramatically, and Blue sighed in frustration. Blue was generally a bright and happy person, but... today he was just so out of it. He was recovering, for Christ's sake. He wasn't happy about being kidnapped at all, and he had a lot on his mind lately.

But, being him, Blue reflected a bit on what the other two are dealing with. First off, they were immortal GODS who needed to protect and help the millions of AUs out in their Multiverse at any cost. That was already almost a good enough reason to spare them a lecture. And Blue could see why having an active mortal ally would be stressful to deal with, especially when going up against the Dark Sanses, who are by far the most dangerous beings out there. The two Gods had to watch their FRIEND get manhandled and get beaten within an inch of his life every single time they went out to fight. It must be hard on them. But Blue had to really wonder for a second. If they cared so much about him, why would they leave him to get kidnapped? The way it happened was quite stereotypical.

Before Blue could start becoming self conflicted, and start another argument within himself, a screeching ringing startled the three skeletons out of any security and peace they'd found in the last few minutes. Dream flinched harshly and wiped his head to the side and glared at the telephone with an intensity that could slice diamond. Blue had a deep blue bone club materialized in his hand in an instant, his stance tense and ready to strike at a moment's notice. Ink had his paintbrush in hand, his eyes already red, pointed and alert, his body language radiating an aura that could startle the most conditioned soldier.

But it was just a telephone call. After a few moments of just sitting there staring daggers and curses into the poor phone, Blue huffed and flopped back down on the couch with a soft thud and dissipated his club. Ink relaxed soon after, not dismissing his brush yet, and Dream grabbed the phone swiftly, not wasting another second. "Hello?... Uh, yes, we have plenty of time... Yes, we're all here toge..." Dream trailed off and his eyesockets widened, a glimmer of happiness dancing across his face. Blue and Ink looked curiously at their teammate, the two sensing either mischief or pure and utter relief and joy coming their way. Or maybe both.

"OHMYGOSHYESI'LLTELLTHEMASAP" Dream blurted, looking at Blue and Ink with a stupid wide grin. "Core found a lot of useful information about the concert thing. They said that they are actually pretty proud of their work!!" Ink cocked a bone brow in confusion and spoke with a cautious tone. "It's great they found that but... what do you mean that they're 'actually proud'? Core loves all the things that they help with."

Blue looked at the two skeletons with a tired glance. "Nevermind that Ink, make a portal already," Dream snapped and quivered with excitement. Ink rolled his eyes and and stood up with his brush, making a portal to Core. Core took a step into the room with a stack of notebooks, binders, and papers and smiled politely. "Nice to see you all again. I have some useful info."

The Star Sanses all smiled softly, except Dream, who was practically vibrating with pure euphoria. "Please sit down on the couch, Core!" Dream grinned as he ushered the monochrome seer to the couch. Dream wedged his way between Ink and Blue, hissing at the latter quietly to scoot. He patted the remaining space besides him for Core, who smiled brightly and laid their stuff out on the empty coffee table in front of them.

Blue blinked a bit, listening as Core started to explain and habitually ignoring Dream's rude gesture. It wasn't a full on conversation, so it was somewhat easier for Blue to follow. Everyone settled in, patiently listening. "So," Core began.

"I have gathered some information about the concert, and although it isn't much to go off of, it's enough to give an idea about how... well, in honesty how thought out this entire event is. First off, general stuff. The place is set in an empty AU, titled "\\\\\tale" and has 3 fixated portal ports, presumably for crowd control. It is accessible by every AU, which may be a problem with culture clash and whatnot. And the date and time is pretty straightforward, maybe they rely on people to translate timezones? We may need to do our part in sending out important points to others if that's the case. The music selection will mostly consist of EDM, house, alternative rock, electro, and remixes of all sorts of other things. Any more info is in these files here."

Ink interrupted quickly. "Uh, I've never heard of \\\\\tale. What is it?" Core hummed for a second, than reached towards a binder, flipping through organized pages filled with notes and a greyscale color spectrum. After a while, Core ran their finger across a line or two, their lips moving ever so slightly in sync. "Oh, it's just an empty copy. Nothing dangero-"

Ink coughed, and pushed away from the three on the couch, and puked putred black ink all over the light colored carpet. Blue made a somewhat frustrated, somewhat skeptical grunting sound, and raced to the closest closet to grab cleaning supplies before the ink stained the carpet. Well, badly, anyways. Dream rushed over to Ink, holding him up a bit while Core sped off to the kitchen with a pitiful "oh dear".

Core scurried back to the living room with a rag and a glass of water in tow. Blue waited until Ink was safely seated on the couch before he began cleaning the carpet vigorously, spraying anti-stain detergent onto the pale flooring, and not holding back with scrubbing. This almost reminded him of the honey-stained floors of his bro's... Blue resisted the urge to knock on his head to erase those past-thoughts out.

Ink rubbed his head, mumbling a soft apology. "Uh..." Ink started slowly. "What were we talking about again..?" Blue sighed, and muttered quiet annoyed curses to himself. Before anyone else could react, Ink glared at Blue, albeit hazily, and he growled defensively. "What's *your* problem..?" Blue glanced up at Ink with a blank expression. "Ink, I'm sorry, but the last few days have been a bit hard on me, and you and Dream as well. I didn't want to deal with your... uh... condition, so to speak on top of everything else."

Ink paused, his facial expression unreadable. Then, slowly but surely, it twisted into confusion. "What the heck happened? And you mean the puking thing right?" Blue sighed and inquired with a gentle but firm tone, balancing between patient and angry, "Do you remember ANYTHING about the concert?" Ink's eyes narrowed in suspicious perplexity, and he shook his head. Blue huffed, picking the cleaning supplies back up and placing them back where they belonged.

Dream sighed softly, putting his hand on the back of his fellow immortal. "Ink, I'll fill you in on what happened." Blue sat down in his spot, Core sitting down next to the former. Ink stared at Blue for a second, as Blue stared at nothingness with an exhausted expression. "Blue...?" Dream asked after noticing his teammates vacant air. Blue looked at the people on the couch with him, and slowly voiced his concern. "We need to work on Ink's memory." Ink looked somewhat offended, but before Blue could elaborate his reasoning, Ink blurted out in outrage.

"Yeah, you think I haven't tried?! I've tried taking notes, sending it on my phone, using connections to things or whatever!" Blue blinked at the outburst, surprised Ink got furious about such a thing. He wasn't exactly a self conscious person... maybe feelings from the fight with Dream last night were putting pressure on his already poor self control. "Well, uh... maybe there's something we haven't tried yet..?" Blue suggested. Blue felt rather helpless. Maybe he should have waited until Ink was filled in on the situation before pointing out the age-old nuisance that plagued his mind.

Ink scoffed, averting his eyes from Blue, with a shaky hiss. "Even if there were alternatives... I don't want to hear them right now. I. Don't. Care." Blue stiffened at the tone, that phrase always seemed to bring back memories after all. He took a deep breath, and-

"Ink, please calm yourself!" Dream begged. Blue blinked and nodded in agreement. "Please?" Ink glared at Blue and Dream. An eternity of silence and harsh tension passed. There was only hostility and anger in Ink's gaze. He was truly offended that Blue thought that it was an easy thing to fix.

Blue was... not in a good mindset. He wanted to smack Ink for not using his brain, he felt like crying or screaming. He wanted to snap at the others for not prioritizing such a huge problem that really needed to be fixed. He was so frustrated and stressed, and he was just so overwhelmed. He was sad and hurt that Ink turned on him so fast as well.

Dream and Core sat helplessly as Ink continued with his rant. "You know what? NO!" he screamed at Blue, grabbing his upper arm with a steely death grip. Dream gasped, reaching out to Ink to make him stop, but Ink pushed him back down. "Dude what the-" Blue panicked. It was too familiar. Too close. Too parental.

Core sat uselessly on the couch. They were worried out of their mind, as well as Dream, but they simply didn't know any of the skeletons, besides Ink, to do anything for them in the situation. If they said something, they were truly worried about the repercussions that would stem from Ink later on.

Blue struggled to get away from the Protector's angry grasp, his mind tittering between pure panic and a sense of normalcy. Ink dragged Blue to a back room. Dream sprinted after the two other skeletons before jumping and holding Ink in place. He could sense that all Ink wanted to do was to hurt Blue, and it made Dream *sick*. Blue released himself from Ink, running to his room before he had the chance to get caught again.

"ALL I WANTED TO TO WAS TALK TO HIM IN A SEPARATE ROOM!" Ink screamed at Dream and he tried to struggle out of his companion's grip. Dream held on tighter and said in a calming voice. "No, you didn't. You wanted to hurt him all because he wanted to get rid of your memory problem. He didn't know it would offend you." Ink still struggled, although too a much lesser degree. "C-c'mon Dream! That was a horrible time to bring it up though! Give me some credit here!" Dream squeezed tighter. "You don't deserve credit here, Inky. Calm down, please." Ink stopped struggling, and began to melt into the tight grip. "I... I'm so sorry..." he whispered. "You need to apologize to Blue, not me. But I forgive you anyways! And, uh, give Blue a minute to cool off before talking. He's probably really mad." Dream released his hug, and looked at Ink as Ink smiled. "Ok.."

The two walked back to the living room where Core was sitting. Dream was beginning to shake as he sat down on the couch, and Core noticed. "Dream..?" Core asked fearfully. "I'm fi... fine..." The sentence started out confident, but then Dream shivered and collapsed on Ink, who was beside him. Ink flinched, as he started to panic as well. "Uh??" Ink's confused voice rasped. "Oh. Uh. Dream probably passed out because of the abundance of negative emotions," Core commented calmly. "It would make sense after all."

Ink nodded, getting up after shrugging Dream off of his side onto the couch so that he was laying where Ink was formerly sitting. Core got off of the couch, lifting Dream's legs up and helped Ink shift Dream's unconscious form into a seemingly comfortable position. A blanket was draped over Dream, and the Guardian of Positivity's golden crown was removed and placed on the table.

Meanwhile, Blue laid on his bed, experiencing one of the worst panic attacks he's ever had. He was in the past, and the present and future paid him no mind.

~~~[]~~~

Hate, worry, apprehension, fear, anxiety, panic, frustration, anger, nervousness, sadness, and betrayal.

Nightmare's single resting eye opened from his slumber. He took a deep breath, relieved at the singular negative emotions coming from an unknown source. He stood from his simple bed, leaving and walking towards the kitchen, where his fa-... minions were eating breakfast.

"Mornin' Boss!" Cross grinned. "Good morning everyone," Nightmare greeted, walking to the coffee machine, by which Horror was leaning on the counter, his singular eyesight fixated on the filling pot. "What's gotten you up so early?" Horror inquired, slowly. He was never a quick speaker, and the gang respected that. "You're one to talk," Killer snickered. Everyone responded with various levels of laughter and chuckles. "Well," Nightmare began. "I woke up because there was a huge influx of negative emotions from some random unknown place. And I have a feeling that if we go there, we can really fuck up whoever has those feeling, y'know?"

Dust grinned creepily. "Soo you're saying this isn't a slaughter, but a torture?" Nightmare chuckled, "That's one way of putting it. I have the coordinates so we can go right after breakfast. I've never seen code like it before though, we should be careful." All the Sanses agreed, as they began to cook and sip on their preferred drinks.

Little do they know...

[patrick-donovan]

LONG TIME NO SEE | THATTIEMELT

WHEN: May 31st, 2020.

WHERE: Thea Hudson’s house.

WHO: Thea Hudson & Patrick Donovan

EVENT: Patrick comes over to distract Thea for a bit, while her sister is in the hospital.

THEA: Thea had been home for a while now. And every moment she was away from Skylar she worried even more about her. She knew she needed to let others visit her, others show how they cared for her, allow others to help her, but Thea knew Skye better than anyone in the world. And leaving her because she knew right now she was not in the correct frame of mind to be a good Domme was one of the hardest things to face right now. 

Patrick had been right, even if the Domme didn't want to admit that. He had been right about her rushing over there, but she also knew that she couldn't stand a moment without seeing her. Thea was thankful for Patrick. Especially after all the fighting that had occurred last night between her and Kurt. She just felt like they thought that she was making this about herself when that was the furthest thing from the truth. This was about Skylar, not her. Distance might help. 

Thea had cried in the shower, let herself have her breakdown that she was needing to overcome before she texted Patrick that she was at home. Patrick had been a close friend since they became part of their friend group in New York. She had heard a little about him before actually meeting him. Mostly about how he was sleeping around with most of her friends and somehow they were all okay with that and still adored him. It was insane. But, as they grew closer as friends, Thea could understand that the man was a genuine person and a talented artist as well. She had not expected his arrival. She slid on a T-shirt and jeans, at this moment she didn't feel like being her fashionable self. Thea ignored the idea of blow-drying her hair and just let herself calm down, waiting for him to arrive. 

PATRICK: It was truly a blessing in disguise when Thea had invited Patrick to come over. As selfish as it was, he didn't want to be by himself in his room, not even after the extremely hectic and weird 36 hours. So much had happened in that short space of time; being under Matthias' orders, the attack, finding Thea, putting Diana under orders. It was all a lot, but it kept his mind occupied with things that he could worry about in the moment, and not having to think about what his parents were doing, if his mom was crying herself to sleep at night like she'd done those two days that he had run away from home at the age of 15 - but he had actually just gone into New York for a concert and had crashed at a friend's place. 

He had been truly shocked to find Thea here. Back in New York, he'd gone through all of the feelings of thinking he had lost her, and he'd been expecting the worst when she'd suddenly disappeared. But here she was. Apparently being on the island had made everything better for her. But then the attack on Skylar had happened, and everything seemed to shift. Patrick felt so sorry for both Skylar and Thea, for having to go through this, and he had tried his best to calm Thea down. She was still talking to him, which was a good sign in his eyes, and the invitation to come over and see her made him happy. 

Her house was massive; he hadn't expected it to be so...prestigious. His jaw had dropped when he first saw it, but after a moment, he closed his mouth again, sighing. It was a completely different world, and yet it wasn't. Knocking on her door, Patrick took a step back, admiring the features around him, as he waited for Thea to open up the door. When it did, his head shut back and he instantly smiled at the sight before him. God, he'd missed that girl. "Thea..." He started, hearing his voice come out scratched. He hadn't even realized that his throat had gone dry. "Hi."

THEA: Hearing the door, she wasn't in her Domme space to ask him to kneel, and that wasn't the reason he was over anyway. This wasn't a scene. This was getting the chance to see her friend again. Other than Skye and Kurt, her friends were the people she had put a lot of her love and trust into. And she had thought about them for the last two weeks, hoping they weren't taking all of this too poorly. Thea opened the door to see the familiar face and found herself smiling as he she saw his dopey face. She couldn't help but raise her brows a bit at his voice, "Hey Pattie, aren't you going to come in and say hello?" She asked, trying to keep the mood light.

PATRICK: Thea had been one of Patrick's best friends in New York; he had a large circle of friends and acquaintances, which came from having to go to lots of art events and doing some networking. But Thea was different. They were on the same wavelength and had that specific type of banter that was all fun and games. She was absolutely stunning; he'd seen her in formal clothes before, but as she stood there in front of him, hair wet and casual clothes, Patrick knew that that was it. That was the Thea who could be stubborn and hot-tempered, but also so incredibly passionate and loyal. His lips curled into a grin at her question. "Nah, I'll stay out here," He joked back, before chuckling and walking up to her. "I've missed you," He let his arms wrap around her petite body to envelop her in a tight embrace. He could smell the shampoo that she'd just used. "How're you doing?"

THEA: She shook her head, trying to keep a straight face, "Oh, alright fine by me," Thea moving towards the door to close it on him, but then he came inside and felt his arms swallow her into a hug and she melted a little. She had missed his hugs, he always gave the best hugs. She shut the door before wrapping her arms around his neck, she felt good. Against Patrick's popular belief, her distance between the two of them was not because she found him unattractive or disliked him. At first it had been that she believed there would be nothing special to him about her if she said yes to having sex with him, but it made her special because she said no. But then it started to become the fact that she had never known what it was like to be in love or to have feelings for someone and so she tried to shut that off before that could happen. But right now, she selfishly needed him, and found herself annoyed with that. "I missed you too," she said as she placed a hand on the back of his head. "I've been better, but I've been worse," Thea said honestly.

PATRICK: This felt right. It felt safe. Like home. And it made Patrick's stomach turn. Closing his eyes, he took in the feeling of her small body against his, wrapped in his arms. The fabric of her t-shirt was soft under his fingertips and he could feel how her back arched slightly. Her hand on the back of his head caused a shiver to run down his spine. Patrick let out a shaky sigh. The days after her disappearance had been hard, and he'd wished that he'd spent more time with her. Seeing her then and there was making him immensely happy. He didn't really want to, but he pulled away from the hug, knowing that they couldn't just stand there and hug each other. A small smile grew on his lips as he looked at her, really took her in. It was those fucking eyes of hers that got to him. "I'm so impressed by you, you know?" He said, not thinking through what he was about to say. "I don't know anyone who's as strong as you," Nodding to himself to affirm it, he moved a hand up to push a strand of hair behind her ear. "I mean, that probably doesn't come as a surprise to you. What, with these guns of yours." He referenced to a previous comment he'd made with a cheeky smile, and gently squeezed her arm.

THEA: Thea sighed as she let him go, Her eyes on him, she was surprised by his words. A small smile tug at the corner of her lips as she listened to him. It wasn't as if Thea didn't think highly of herself, she had confidence and was happy with who she was the majority of the time. But Patrick's compliments hit a bit different. She joked back, "I can't blame you for that," she said before becoming serious again as she looked in his eyes. Not hating the way he touched her hair. A small laugh left her lips as he squeezed her arms, the only thing she ever really did was yoga and pilates. "Yeah, well one of us has got to be, and definitely isn't you," she teases before squeezing his muscular toned arm.

PATRICK: A chuckle escaped his lips and he grinned at the Domme in front of him. He liked how they could joke around; it was almost a form of therapy to Patrick. Not that he needed it, he'd lived an extremely privileged life so far, but it was nice to have that kind of relationship with someone. The feeling of her small hand wrapping around his arm made him realize just how delicate she was. He had no doubt that she could be rough if she wanted to be; her need to fight anyone who was in the wrong proved that to him, and that was one of the reasons why it hadn't been a surprise to him that she was a Domme. "I know, right? What even are dumbbells?" Patrick huffed sarcastically, and grinned. "Alright, show me around this place of yours. It sure as hell ain't that small 1-bedroom New York apartment that we're used to."

THEA: She let out a small laugh at his comment, shaking her head a bit. Feeling the weight on her shoulders diminish in a small amount as she let go of his arm and gave him a small kiss on the cheek as a thank you for being here. Thea lifted a finger up, "I'll have you know that Skye and I had a very chic 1-bedroom loft," she corrected him, but she definitely felt like this was a lot nicer. First showing off her living room, her kitchen, the pool and outdoors expansive area, showing where she had started a garden, bringing back inside showing off the guest room downstairs before bringing him upstairs to show off the other guest rooms, her design room that she had started to place a few sketches up before finally taking him towards her bedroom, "And now the master bed and bathroom," she opens the doors to show off the room.

PATRICK: The kiss on his cheek took him by surprise, it made his stomach drop for a beat. He knew that it was a small token of appreciation, but it was a big deal, at least to him. It almost felt like her lips still lingered there, even though she had clearly pulled away and was stood in front of him. It hadn't even lasted a second, but he could still feel her soft lips on his skin. He snapped out of it. This was not the right time, there were bigger things to deal with. Holding up his hands defensively, Patrick raised his eyebrows. "My apologies, I guess we can't all live as lavishly as the Hudson sisters," He joked. He was given the grand tour of the house, completely mesmerized with everything. It was completely different to what Patrick was currently living in; he wasn't complaining, anything was pretty much better than the small apartment he had in New York. But Thea's house compared to the place that he was currently living in...well, there was a clear divide between the two marks, that was for sure. Walking into her bedroom, Patrick's jaw dropped slightly. "Wow..." He mumbled to himself, impressed with it all. She was really living it up. "And you've got all of this to yourself, huh?" Patrick kept looking around, taking it all in. His gaze fell back to Thea's face after a while, giving her a teasing look before he walked towards her. "I bet no one's ever done this to a Domme..." He picked her up and threw her over his shoulder gently, before walking towards the bed and placing her down on it, grinning down at her.

THEA: She was trying to make this place her home and definitely was starting to enjoy all the benefits of the space. Thea had already set up one of the guest bedrooms for Skylar when she got out of the hospital. She smiled over at Patrick seeing his expression, "Yeah, it's pretty great, huh?" She admired the space, not looking to see her friend, confused for a moment but didn't react fast enough as he swooped her body off the ground, "Patrick!" She exclaimed as she slapped at his ass hard as he brought her over to her bed. "You really just wanted an excuse to come over towards the bed, all you had to do was ask nicely if you could see how comfortable my bed was," she said as she sat back up, taking his wrist and tugging him onto the bed. "And you will never do that again," she adds.

PATRICK: "Ow!" Patrick laughed as Thea slapped his ass. This was one of the things he'd missed about the girl; she played along with whatever was going on. It made doing something spontaneous like that much more fun. He couldn't help but smirk and shrug his shoulder at her comment. Maybe he'd wanted to get onto the bed, or maybe he'd just wanted to cheer her up and take her mind off of things for a bit. "But-" He was cut off when he felt her pull at his wrist. He landed next to her, and he instantly got himself comfortable on his side as he chuckled. Supporting his head with his arm, he looked at her. "But where's the fun in just asking?" That pretty much summed up Patrick; he liked doing something out-of-the-blue, and it resulted in him making some rash decisions sometimes. Smirking, Patrick moved onto his back, arms spread out above him as he took in how comfortable it was. Better than his own bed. "We'll see about that."

THEA: "I'm in charge, that's why," Thea said as she sat up looking down at him as he got more comfortable. She shook her head at his want to defy and she knew if she was in the mood to Domme she would absolutely prove him wrong on that front, but right now she was trying to relax and hope that he didn't think she would always be this way with him, even though they were friends. She shook her head as she pinched at his side. "No, only if I allow you to pick me up will I allow it," she said trying to be serious but she also was tired of being in charge. She definitely had not been responsive in a Domme manner to Kurt last night as he berated her, she should have punished him, but she was too caught up to do that at the moment. She relaxed back into her bed next to him and felt like sinking into the pillows.

PATRICK: Patrick had always had a problem with following orders. There was something about them that he just didn't like; he wanted to be his own person, make his own decisions and not have someone else control everything he did. It probably came down to his perfect childhood and how everything seemed to fine on the surface that made Patrick want to rebel against authorities. Looking up at Thea, the smirk remained on his face as he watched her. He wanted to see more of this dominating side of her, but now wasn't the right time. "Okay, okay, you're in charge. You win this one," He gave in, and chuckled. Feeling her body settle down next to his, Patrick licked his lips and looked over at her. She was so beautiful. She had been Patrick's favorite person to draw, and every facial feature of hers was embedded in his brain. He knew how sharp her jawline was, the way her eyebrows arched slightly, how full and red her lips were. He bit down on his lip for a brief second before sitting up again, his hand supporting his head and hovering slightly over the girl. "Am I stepping over any lines if I do this?" He asked her quietly and leaned in to give her cheek a soft peck.

THEA: She was lost in though, her fingers going to her necklace, one she had been given a long time ago with just a 'T' she used the point to press into her thumb as she moved the charm back and forth as she just stayed silent. It was hard not to think about if her sister was alone right now or if siblings were there. She tried not to think about all the times she had to soothe Skye from pure panic or she started mumbling, but the worst was when she was completely silent. Thea tried not to think about those things, brought back to reality by Patrick looking down at her. She hated not being "top", it was even worse because she hated not having the power. But she looked up at him as he spoke, confused for a second before he kissed her cheek. A small laugh left her lips as she shook her head. "I think that's quite alright," his lips were soft and a heat rushed through her body for a moment before she sat back up as well.

PATRICK: The sound of Thea's laughter was like a sweet symphony that Patrick could listen to, day in and day out. It was heartwarming and it made him grin. It was exactly the reaction that he was hoping to get out of her. "Phew..." He started, pretending to wipe the nervous sweat off of his forehead. "Good, because I don't think I would've been able to not do that," He told her. He watched as she sat up next to him, and he smiled, reaching over to take her hand into his. "Now, the question in..." He let out a deep breath, his eyes moving down to look at his fingers playing with hers. He kept his eyes there for a bit and drew the silence out, until he looked back up at her again. "Have you eaten anything yet?"

THEA: Thea looked over at Patrick, smiling as he tried to cheer her up with his antics. "I know, I know, I'm just so very irresistible to you," she said trying to keep the teasing going as she hoped that would help lift spirits a bit. She felt his hand and didn't make an attempt to move it away as he looked so serious playing with her fingers, studying them as if he was sketching them in his mind. The question made her tense a bit, "Yeah, I had a banana earlier when they brought in some food for Skylar," she assured him. "You don't have to worry about me, Patrick," she said before leaning over towards him their faces closer together, "Was that the real question you wanted to ask? Or did you chicken out?"

PATRICK: "Alright, don't get cocky about it now," Patrick teased gently, giving her shoulder a light nudge. "I think it's pretty obvious that you are, but let's not brag about it." He tried to pull a serious expression, but he failed and had to succumb to his small signature smile. He wasn't one to really hide how he was feeling, and so he tended to agree with the girl when she gave herself a compliment. His thumb ran over her knuckles gently as he felt her tense up, his eyebrows immediately shooting upwards. He hadn't meant to make her feel uncomfortable with his question. "You know I can't just turn it off," He told her softly. It was like a built-in thing for Patrick. He wanted nothing but the best for his friends and family; and that usually came with a lot of worrying to do. Fuck. She moved closer to him. Why was she all of a sudden so close to him? Fuck. What was he supposed to do? Was he supposed to be listening to her? Surely he was supposed to be falling into a deep trance as he stared at those hazel eyes that he was so familiar with, after having studied them and printed them onto his brain? Right? No? Fuck, wake up, Patrick, he told himself and had to snap out of it. He only just noticed that his jaw had dropped slightly. "Um..." He mumbled for a bit. Had he even been listening? "Do you want chicken? I can make you some chicken."

THEA: Giving a small shrug, "I'm not cocky, just confident," she said as she looked back towards him. And in just the words that he said encapsulated why the two of them were friends. Thea felt his thumb over her knuckle, her fingers moving gingerly over his palm. She was watching his expression up close and couldn't tell what he was thinking, if there was indeed something else he wanted to say. But brows only furrowed in confusion as he offered to make her chicken. A laugh leaving her lips before saying, "No, no I'm good, I don't want any chicken, I said was that all you wanted to ask me?" She said as she placed a hand on his cheek, her thumb brushing over it. This wasn't the first time she had ever been tempted to kiss Patrick, but it was certainly the first time she would be acting on it as she moved forward to close in the space, her lips brush up against his before kissing him slowly.

PATRICK: Patrick hummed lightly, smirking to himself. He enjoyed that Thea knew that she was hot and that Patrick didn't have to constantly reassure her about it. It just made it that much easier to talk about it with her. And boy, had he talked about it with her. Every time Patrick had tried to properly describe how beautiful he thought she was, he'd lose his words, and would eventually have to give up, and a few hours later just hand her a sketch of herself. That was his way of showing her how much attention he paid to her and the little quirks that she had, because if he tried to describe it, he'd fail. "I've got a million questions," He confessed quietly, before he felt her hand on his cheek. "But they can wait," His eyes unlocked themselves from getting lost in hers and moved down to her lips, watching as they came closer and closer. Those perfectly full lips. Then he felt them. Finally. He closed his eyes, taking in the sensation. God, they were so soft. How the hell could lips be so soft?! It was slow and gentle, and, and, and- wait, Thea was kissing him. Thea Hudson was actually kissing him! How the hell did that happen?! The realization made Patrick respond to the kiss, moving his lips against hers as he finally laced his fingers with hers.

THEA: Thea felt all her worries about her sister still looming in the back of her mind, but right now she felt the need to thank Patrick for being there for her. He had for years been politely persistent and yet still grown into a good friend as well and as much as she wanted to pretend she hadn't enjoyed him pining over her, the mystery could be over and she could let him in. Now they were on an island where she was a Domme and he was a Switch and although he could absolutely have sex with plenty of people here, she knew that they meant a lot to one another. She hoped that her step-sister wasn't catching feelings, because that might be a problem, but her impulses didn't think about that now as she kissed him again, and kept her lips on top of his, her tongue sliding into one more kiss before she pulled away, searching over his facial expression.

PATRICK: Patrick thanked his lucky stars for whatever was happening right now. This moment was something he'd thought of many times back in New York, after having hung out with the girl and making it very obvious that he wanted her. Sure, he'd gotten a reputation for being a manwhore, but he wasn't the type of person to sleep with someone and then just abandon them. He wanted the connection with them, he needed that in his life, because it made it so much more interesting than what he'd grown up with. Thea was one of the most interesting and intricate people that Patrick had met and he felt drawn to her. She was a complicated girl, and he found that fascinating about her. A quiet but pained moan managed to escape his lips when she pulled away from the kiss. Instinctively, he leaned back in again, searching for her, begging her to come back, before he realized that she wasn't there. He opened his eyes instead and saw her scanning his face, and he pinched his nose, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious. "That was...um..." He cleared his throat softly before making a decision. "Yeah, I'm gonna need a second round if you want a thorough review." And with that, he leaned back in again, his hand moving to her waist, squeezing it softly.

THEA: A small laugh left her lips as he groaned at her pulling away. She wasn't laughing at him, more like at his reaction of wanting more. She smiled back at his as she pressed her lips together for a moment, feeling a bit of the pressure of his lips on hers still. Thea tried to figure out what he was going to say, laughing a bit more as he tried to feed her one of his smooth lines. "Who said that's what I was asking for," she said before leaning back in again as she felt his hand at her waist. Her lips greeted his again for a moment before murmuring against his lips, "We're just kissing for today, okay?" Before kissing him with a bit more passion, a hand moving to the back of his head once more as she kissed his lips, seeing why he ended up luring all those people in.

PATRICK: Smiling into the kiss, Patrick moved closer to Thea. He hummed lightly into the kiss, "You're gonna get one anyway," He swiped his tongue over her upper lip. "Because they're just that good," Patrick whispered and continued to kiss her. It felt amazing to finally be kissing the girl. Her bubblegum tongue against his made him feel like he was floating on air, and her hand in his hair gave him that familiar feeling, like earlier when they'd hugged - it was sensual and real. Nodding as he heard her, Patrick agreed. He didn't want her to feel uncomfortable, and he was scared that maybe she would assume that he was taking advantage of her vulnerability at the moment. That was the last thing he wanted. "Kissing you is awesome," He mumbled against her lips. He wanted to do it until they couldn't breathe, and then, once they were ready again, he wanted to keep going.

THEA: She smiled as he told her that her kisses were just that good for a review. Thea was going to say something cocky again, but instead just focused on kissing him instead as she was all too glad to do now that they had started. She moves to straddle his lap as she continues kissing him. It was clear they were making up for the years of knowing each other and not spending time kissing each other. But it also felt good to have waited so long and hoping that for Patrick it was well worth the wait. She laughs a bit at his simple phrase as both her hands move to cup his cheeks as she kissed him one last passionate time before pulling away once more.

PATRICK: Was it getting hot in here? It sure was starting to feel hot, Patrick was sure of it. Thea didn't need her heating to be on, if that was what was happening. His lips moved passionately with hers as he deepened the kiss. This was something else - Thea was something else. For years, he had wondered what it would be like to be in this exact situation and here he was, finally doing it. She had teased him for what had felt like an eternity, but Patrick was so happy to finally be kissing her. Feeling her move on top of him, Patrick sucked in a deep breath through his nose. She needed to be careful if kissing was all they were going to do. A muffled groan left his mouth, and his arms moved to be flat against the small of her back. Fingers grabbing onto her t-shirt, he was getting really into the kiss, when the Domme on top of him decided to pull away. He hated that already. It took him a moment before he opened his eyes to look at her and then he smirked softly. "12 out of 10, I can definitely recommend kissing you."

THEA: She had a feeling she might be riling Patrick up a bit, especially after making it clear that they would only be kissing. And his hands went to her back and her shirt. She felt her body just giving in to the things she had been holding back for years in the kiss. She wondered what her friends back home would have said. Probably something along the lines of ‘Finally!’ They had been making bets for years now, some about whether or not they would kiss some about whether they would have sex at one point there was even one about marriage. Thea opened her eyes to see his still closed for a moment. She gave one small peck to appease him before smiling at his words. “Damn, I give you a full on make out session and that’s all I get?” She teased as she felt the tingling on her lips. “I figure now you know it was worth the wait,” she also added as her eyes stayed on his. Her hands moving to cup his face as she looked down at him.

PATRICK: A soft laugh filled the room when he heard Thea's joke. "Hey, that's a sold 12, people don't get a lot of those from me," He told her, beaming up at her. If there really wasn't a way to get home and he would have to stay here, then he figured it wouldn't be so bad - he had Thea there. And no matter what would happen, he'd be sure to not mess up their friendship, that was way too valuable to him. Frowning, Patrick suddenly got scared. "You're not gonna make me wait another 5-6 years for the next kiss, are you?" He would probably be able to do it, but that didn't mean that he wanted to. "You've just gotten me hooked, you can't take them away from me again, that's not fair." He justified, moving his face slightly so he could leave a soft kiss on her palm. He moved his hands around her back soothingly, wanting to discover every inch of her body and feeling every curve - even with her clothes on. "What if I push it up to 15 out 10, would that convince you to kiss me sooner than in 5 to 6 years time?"

THEA: Thea let out a laugh as she shook her head, “Oh, so I’m not the only 12 out of 10?” She raises a brow. She obviously was just messing with him considering he had made himself abundantly clear even before the kiss. But she looked at his face again as she saw him almost look worried. “What?” She started to laugh at his words, her eyes widening. “Patrick, you realize you sound like an addict who is negotiating to get more drugs!” She felt his lips press again her hand and lightly laughed. “Oh so you think you can up the ante to 15? I just figured you would paint a picture of how it felt,” she teased a bit before giving his lips a slow kiss. “I was thinking maybe 10 or 15 more years for another kiss.” She grinned mischievously before giving him another kiss before getting off his lap. “I’m not going to make you wait, Pattie Melt.”

PATRICK: "Hey, no one beats Madeline from 3rd grade. She was, after-all, my first crush," Patrick explained, moving in to rub his nose against Thea's. He liked this, how close they were being, and how she seemed to be happier. Patrick wasn't going to be completely arrogant and say that it was all because of him, but he liked to think that maybe he'd somewhat cheered her up for now. "Well, that's what your kisses do to me, okay?" He said defensively. "I've been waiting this long for them, I'm gonna damn well make sure to get as many as I possibly can." Patrick smiled, loving the sound of Thea's laugh. It was pure affirmation to him that he was doing the right thing. "If I had some art supplies, I totally would. You know me," He started, letting out a dramatic sigh. "I can only express my feelings through a paintbrush," Patrick instantly melted into the kiss that she gave, taking in the taste of her lips. It was sweet. "What?!" Shocked, that's what he was. He couldn't possibly go 10-15 years! That would just be pure torture! Surely he would be settled down by then, with a wife and three kids and a 401k! His heartbeat was racing as he watched her get off of him, and then he heard her. His hand immediately flew to his chest, to rest above his heart. "You can't say something like that. You scared the shit out of me, Thea."

THEA: She gave a small shrug, "She sounds like a cunt," she says deadpan, obviously just joking once more before being surprised as he brought his nose for a eskimo kiss. It felt weird and foreign, something her mother would have done when she and her siblings were little. Affection felt hard for her, but she accepted it for now. Letting out another laugh, Thea shook her head, "Again, you sound like my kisses are crack." She gave a nod, "That's fair, maybe if you get a job, you can get some art supplies and do that," she offered before they went on to a whole other teasing. The way he panicked was so genuine and hilarious she couldn't help but start laughing. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just was having a little fun." Thea said as she kissed him one more time before finally moving to get off the bed. "I think it's about time I go back to the hospital," she shared.

PATRICK: "Oh, she ended up becoming one. She used to tell people that I couldn't read, because I'd get nervous when we had to read out loud," Patrick humored her, shaking his head to himself as he remembered the betrayal he felt. "Reading was one of the things I did the best, she should've come for my math skills instead, they're terrible." His hands moved to her hips, squeezing them gently as he laughed at her comment. "Maybe they are," He shrugged his shoulders, not really caring if he sounded dumb for not wanting to go without her kisses for that long again. Sighing to himself, Patrick nodded. He didn't want to get a job, because that meant he would be settling down, but he was also starting to feel like he could really use the money. "Yeah, maybe I'll look into the job thing." He been drawing little things on the steamed up windows in the shower, because he was missing being creative so much. His shock had been quite similar to the one that he'd gotten, when he'd woken up to a text saying that Thea was gone. He'd completely freaked out, starting calling her endlessly, emailing her, showing up at her place, with no indication of where she was. Those moments scared him; maybe this one not as much, but the fear that she might be taken away from him again still lingered. "You think that's fun? You're gonna be the death of me, I swear..." Patrick mumbled. He got from his seat on the bed and nodded. "Are you going to be okay?"

THEA: She gave a nod, "With a name like Madeline, it's just destined to happen, unless you go by Maddie." Thea couldn't help but laugh a little before giving him a sympathetic pout. "What a bitch, I'm sorry she did that to you, P." Giving him a stroke to the cheek as she looked over his features as he told her that they were like crack. She raised a brow at his words, "No, you should definitely look into the job thing. I'm the manager at The Bikini Bottom, but once I raise enough money, I'm going to open up my own fashion boutique," she said to him as she felt excited to finally put that plan in action. "I've already started making a specific male's booty short line," she mused before going back to the topic. "Wasn't I already before I kissed you?" She teased before giving him space to stand when he got up. Giving a small shrug, "I'll be fine because I'll know I'm with my sister."

PATRICK: Chuckling, Patrick nodded, agreeing with her. He shrugged his shoulders casually and smiled. "It's okay. It's taken me years to get over, but I'm not mad about it anymore." He leaned into her hand as he felt her stroking his cheek, loving the attention that she was giving him in that moment. It was so soft, and gentle, and the exact opposite of who she'd shown she was in the chat, a couple of days prior. This was the Thea that he knew and adored. Impressed, his smile widened. "You're the manager? Damn, girl, look at you...Out here making something of yourself," He beamed proudly. He knew how talented she was in terms of the fashion stuff, but thinking about it, he could definitely see her fitting into some high-end role like that. "What's "The Bikini Bottom" though? It's not like some tacky Spongebob-themed place, right? Like, they don't worship him as a god around here?" Patrick rambled on, confused. There were still so many things that he needed to find out about the island. A chuckle escaped his lips. "Of course you have," He started, letting his head fall as he kept laughing softly to himself. "Were you thinking of me when you designed them?" Patrick raised his head again, revealing the soft smirk on his face. "Oh, big time, Thee," Taking her hand into his, he ran his thumb over her knuckles and started walking out of the bedroom and towards the front door again - desperately hoping that he could remember the way. "I want "I Will Survive" played at my funeral, okay? You're responsible for making sure that happens, especially since you're responsible for my death." He grinned, looking over at her. Reaching the door, Patrick stopped in his tracks to look at his best friend and nodded. "If you need anything, you know where I am. And give her a high-five and, tell her 'good job' for pulling through, from me."

THEA: "I hear you and I see you," she said in a bit of a teasing manner as she placed a supportive hand on his shoulder. She nodded at his question. "I mean it's a retail shop," she gave a shrug not thinking it a big deal really. It gave her money to do things and that's really what mattered to her. She laughed a bit shaking her head, "What? No! It's the sex shop." She smirked wondering how he would react to that tidbit of news. Thea smirked a bit at Patrick's question. "Well, they are embroidered booty shorts that say Thea's Bitch on them, you're free to model them for me any time." She teases before a softer smile rose on her lips. She let him take her hand as they walk back down the stairs. Raising her brows at his requests, "You joke, but my step-brother is a mortician." She says before adding, "But don't talk like that, even if it is a joke." Thea stopped back to where they had been before. She nodded in return at his comment, "Yeah, I'm not high-fiving Skylar and telling her good job for getting surviving being stabbed, you weirdo." Thea said before leaning towards him an giving him a kiss at the corner of his lips. "I'll text you later, okay?"

PATRICK: It had been amazing, seeing Thea again. Even if the kissing hadn't been involved, just being around her, knowing that she was okay and not hurt in any way was so important to Patrick. She seemed to be doing okay, everything considered, but the guy still worried - nothing was going to stop that. A sly smirk appeared, and he took a step closer, his hands moving to her hips. "Does that mean you get a discount?" He asked, more jokingly than anything else. It was just kissing for now. But even if she was still making him chase after her, he would still have made that comment. His laughter came out soft as he heard the next bit. "Thea's Bitch? That sounds about right," He laughed and shook his head. It was right up her street to go and make something like that - again, it was one of the reasons why it hadn't surprised him when he found out that she was a Domme. Giving her hand a squeeze, he smiled softly at her. "Don't worry, I'm immortal, nothing could ever happen to me," He promised her with a slight shrug to his shoulders. "Aw, fine," Patrick pouted for a second. "But do give her a hug from me, please?" He asked her. Feeling her lips back on his, Patrick smiled brightly. "You better, I want updates on how she's doing." Turning to open the door, he was about to walk out before he turned around and gave her another quick peck on her lips. "Bye!"

[lucidpantone]

Chapter 3: Visitations

Someone recently asked the tag if Sander and Robbe stayed together forever. 

Here’s a fic exploring the journey to get to that answer.

This fic takes place in two simultaneously timelines: the past and the present.

Italics is the Past. If not, it's August 15th at any point in the day I chose to drop you into.

Large line breaks are a new memory.

Read the rest on Ao3.

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The concrete stairs are overwhelming.

Sander thought to himself as he ascended them coming to a full stop outside Robbe’s apartment  door. His reflection looking back at him. The residue of sundown’s volcanic incandescence was high in the sky creating a mirrored effect on the building. It was one of those ghastly mid century modern blocks that was lathered in a matte high shine finish. Giving the entire building a sensation of reflectivity. Sander disliked these types of buildings. They felt cold and soulless. These were the kind of buildings that Robbe would defend as being functional but completely lacking in any of Belgium’s highly regarded Art Nouveau/Art Deco qualities. Of course it would be Sander’s luck that this building’s heinous exterior would be the thing that would make him recognize that he was on the right street about to knock on the right door.

Sander had only been to Robbe’s Brussels apartment once before when Robbe moved into it almost a year and a half ago. He hadn’t seen Robbe since he had checked himself out of the hospital and Robbe had driven him home. Sander was somewhat aware of Robbe’s schedule due to the frequency of his texts over the last couple months but he hadn’t told Robbe he was coming. He wanted to catch Robbe off guard. Lessen the possibility of allowing him to gather any of his usual armor to barricade himself from Sander’s charm. After Sander’s hospital stint he knew he had made a mistake. He had allowed himself to believe a false narrative that he and Robbe weren’t perfectly crafted for each other. That they both hadn’t found a way to defy the gods and find one another. During his darkest days Robbe would show up ardently. Journeying between south and north to come spend his time by Sander’s side.  During their time apart Sander was certain that a fracture would have formed. A crevasse so large that it would have cordon off each of them to their respective lives never allowing them to leap across the barrier but Sander was wrong.

During Sander’s hospital stay he caught a virus that germinated from within an undeniable appetite for Robbe. This sickness was a contagion, a gnome sequenced strait into Sander’s DNA. An ailment that percolated beyond marrow-deep, an essential function of the body. It caused a mutation in Sander’s mental state; he’d sit and sketch just Robbe all day long something he had long stopped doing. He would anticipate Robbe bursting through the door in his work clothes, kicking off his loafer, tearing off his shirt and tie.Unapologetically changing into whichever one of Sander’s t-shirt he could find rambling on about the days occurrences making himself completely comfortable in Sander’s orbit. Sander would just watch him take notes of all of Robbe’s beautiful idiosyncrasies, the way he would tilt his head from side to side whenever he lost his train of thought, the way his eyes followed Sander’s hand when he scooped his hair onto to one side, the high pitched giggle that would generate from the back of his throat whenever Sander teased him or he was slightly embarrassed, but also the other side.

You see Robbe had an innate ability. Anytime any medical staff entered their bubble he could morph from his typical bambi-eyed self into a calculated tactician operating under a didactic agenda of inquisition readily observant of negative evaluations concerning Sander’s mental health or the need to further medicate him. It always took Sander aback when he saw this side of Robbe he could be so detached, frigid, coupled with a spikey disposition. This side of Robbe’s was one of the few things he never made public something he reserved only for Sander, only for the things he was most passionate about, the things he wanted to keep safe. Over the years Robbe had surmounted a vast amount of experience when it came to how medical professionals treated the people he loved. Between his mother and Sander’s treatments Robbe had become a battle hardened mutt who’d survived dogfight after dogfight. If he ever sensed your judgement or mistreatment of Sander he could be vicious, react like a rabid animal ready to evasicarate you. Sander’s touch being one of the only things that could stabilize him. Bring him back to himself.

On the last night of Sander’s hospital stay. Robbe delivered one of his high octane good boy next door performances that managed to convince the nursing staff to let him stay pass visitation. He knew their time together was coming to an end. He would go back to his daily life in Brussels and Sander to his normal routine. So, Robbe surprised him. Sander’s episode had kept him from attending the annual contemporary art retrospect at Belgium’s Museum of fine art. Sander loved that retrospect he attended it religiously usually with Robbe by his side. So Robbe found a way to bring it to him. He snuck into Sander’s room during his final therapy session and set up a projector and his laptop up to walk through the exhibition virtually. He accompanied their private art show with one of Sander’s Bowie playlist.  

“Art, can be really feeble” Robbe sighed out as Sander and him laid on their backs looking up at the ceiling walking through the exhibition.  

“What don't you like about it?” Sander pointed his arms towards the work.

“Its a 6 foot gold toothbrush, what is artistic about that?” They both snorted at Robbe’s criticism.  

They both hadn’t anticipated the potency of the next work. It crash-landed into them like a ball of fire. It was an image of a fireworks display, but it paused at the exact moment at the end of one of those big celebratory new year’s eve fireworks’ display when they turn the sky into a pantone of colors and lingering stardust creates a mirage-like effect as the fireworks dissolve into themselves. In-turn making the ground underneath you vibrate like some sort of epicenter to a natural disaster. The artist had probably never intended for the viewer of this piece to take it in on their backs, from a ceiling, in a sterile hospital room, but this setting worked. It magnified the piece allowing its luminescence to turn the hospital room’s white walls into a colorful kaleidoscope of radiance. As they lay there staring at the work Sander turned to Robbe who was in a state of hypnosis, completely captivated, and echoed “I love you”. Robbe snapped his cheek towards Sander his beautiful doh eyes gleaming from the stained glass effect the image was transmitting around the room. Without much thought Sander took Robbe’s hand, the one that when clasped together completed the phrase they both had scribbled on their wrist.  

Sander had been longing to reach out and kiss Robbe for the past couple of weeks but he was so afraid. Afraid that Robbe wouldn’t kiss him back, that he had truly kicked the habit of their love but he scooted towards him anyway, leaped across the crevasse and closed the gap between them and placed an ever so soft kiss on Robbe’s lips. Robbe stilled for a few seconds, unsure, tentative, questioning the gesture but after a few seconds he didn’t object he accepted Sander’s invitation letting Sander slip his tongue onto his. Amping Sander up as he climbed on top of him and slid his hands under his shirt. Robbe let go of his sobriety that night, let the inertia that surrounded them collapse in on itself and create a vortex. That was the first time Robbe and Sander would sleep together since their separation. The first of the many times that would follow and taint them little by little but in that moment neither of them cared. Robbe and Sander just allowed the rain drops of the fireworks above them melt them into symbiosis.

“Sander what are you doing here?” Robbe inquired as he came hurdling out of the apartment building’s door. Just as Sander was about to buzz in. Before Sander could even respond he noticed a dirty blonde with disheveled hair standing behind Robbe. He felt a flicker of anger for a moment but he managed to divert it and turn on.

“Who’s your little friend Robbe?” Sander struck back with a self assured confidence ignoring Robbe’s initial question. Sander didn’t really care who this transient guy was he just didn’t want to miss the opportunity to make Robbe pay.

“This is David”,  Robbe said sounding a bit apprehensive.

Sander waited for Robbe to introduce him but when he didn’t so he took it upon himself to do the honors.  

“Sander”

He extended his hand out to David. Taking notice of the guy’s icy blue eyes the only thing memorable about him.  

Robbe interjected himself into their salutations.

“This is my fri--” Robbe wasn’t fast.

“Am his ex, ya know the love of his life, center of his universe, the one.” Sander really emphasized the last part as he delivered his schtick in his most casual fuck boy tone.

Robbe’s jaw dropped.

Sander had Robbe exactly where we wanted him with a cocksure grin painted across his face. Daring Robbe to say something to him.

Robbe didn’t react fast enough.

“So where’s that accent from David? Doesn’t sound local?”

The poor guy clearly confused and a bit flabbergasted by these odd exchanges between exes. Fumbled out an answer.

“Berlin”

“Oh I loooove Berlin. Robbe and I went to this sex show out there once where this girl was sho…….”

“That’s enough” Robbe cut him off in a matter of fact tone.

Sander was clearly posturing now. Enjoying every minute of this transaction.

“Robbe aren’t you gonna let me finish my story?” Sander pouted back at him.  

“Come now” Robbe grabbed his date by the arm and dragged him away.

Sander was just hotshotting now and yelled out to Robbe, “That’s what you said. Bye David”.

Robbe looked back at Sander and threw him an are you kidding me look.

Sander started counting out loud. He gave Robbe 90 seconds, tops.  

“69, 70, 71, 72……. Ah there you are?”  

“What The Fock Sander” Robbe let out in frustration but also with a tinge of glee behind his voice.

Sander was resting with his back against the doorway with one knee up and his foot up against the wall.

“What?” Sander shrugged his shoulders with a deadpan expression acting like he was utterly confused as to what he had done wrong.

“Your unbelievable, you know that?” Robbe shook his head from side to side as he walked towards him with his head down trying to hide the smile on his face.

“I wonder if he’ll call you?” Sander was clearly gloating now with a wicked grin across his face as Robbe opened the door.  

Whatever game he had initiated he had most certainly won.

“Didn’t realize you were into that whole mopey plant lover vibe though.”

Robbe gave him a smart ass remark, “I dated you for 5 years didn’t I?”.

“Touche, touche” Sander wagged his finger in Robbe’s face.

“But it was actually almost 6 Robin” Sander corrected him as he booped Robbe’s nose while he walked past him and entered the apartment building.

As they walked into Robbe’s apartment. Robbe put his fingers in his ears in anticipation.

Sander took his right hand to his mouth placing his thumb and index finger between his lips and pursed out a deafening high pitch whistle.  

All of sudden the clank of a bell began to approach them. Bowie had come to Sander on command.

“My boy!” Sander picked up that damn cat and smothered him all over his face. Worshipping him. The cat evidently loving every minute of it. Purring to no end.

Robbe walked over to the fridge and grabbed them a couple of beers. He was about to hand one over to Sander who was holding Bowie up high above his shoulders like a baby when he paused. One of his eyebrows rising towards Robbe’s direction.

“Have you..”

Robbe finished Sander’s sentence as he took a sip of his beer. “Been feeding him the grain-free stuff?”  

Robbe nodded.

“He feels heavier”

“Are you sure it’s…?” Sander probed.

“One third of a cup? Yeah. Also, can you not say that out loud? Not in front of the kid, he’s sensitive.” Robbe jokingly reprimanded Sander for commenting on their bowie’s weight.

Sander gave the cat one final smooch and then put him down on the ground. Finally taking that beer off Robbe’s hand.

The inside of Robbe’s apartment had one of those open plan layouts that was situated from right to left. Kitchen, open plan middle space which housed a dining table and living room. It had the icky new build vibe that Sander hated.  

Sander examined the apartment with his eyes and looked back at Robbe who was leaning against his dining table staring at him trying to decipher what Sander would say next.

Sander had almost forgotten why he had even come here and now that his whole plan went awry. He felt a little exposed as he had no real reason to be there.  

“So….” Robbe egged on the conversation. His eyes shifting back and forth.  

Trying to get Sander to participate but Robbe was so good at sensing Sander’s feelings. You’d swear that Sander had little thought bubbles protruding above his head storytelling his internal narrative for Robbe’s personal consumption.

“I know why you’re here?” Robbe finally said. Sounding a bit illusive.

“Oh yeah” Sander asked inquisitively.

“Why am I here?”

“You came here to do that thing we always do” Robbe said as he made a come here gesture with his hands.

Sander broke out a warm smile. Typical Robbe always saving him. Protecting him.

Sander walk towards Robbe. Placing his beer on the table behind him. He then placed both of his hands on each of Robbe 's shoulders and pressed their foreheads together as a sign of thanks for what Robbe had just done.

Pulling back and finally saying to Robbe.

“Okay, but no subtitles this time. Promise?” Sander demanded.

“Sanderrrrr” Robbe whined.

“What is it with you and all that foreign shit.We end up watching tv shows in 7 different languages” Sander jokingly scoffed at Robbe.

“What’s wrong with that?” Robbe asked offended. Thinking doesn’t everyone do that.

“Come” Sander said turning his body to face away from Robbe. Signaling Robbe to get on his back he was going to carry him to the couch.  

Robbe jumped on recalling in his mind how many times they had done this exact thing. In the years that Robbe and Sander had been together they had formed their own traditions. When Sander was hospitalized or at home not feeling very well he would lay in Robbe’s arms in bed or on the couch and just marathon shows for hours. It was strange because any other time Sander wasn’t much of a TV watcher but in Robbe’s mind those moments were some of the best of their relationship. They would just lay together for hours. Robbe would just grip Sander so hard he practically left bruises on Sander’s arms but Sander would still have to remind him to hold him tighter and nuzzle himself even deeper into Robbe’s embrace.

“Where’s your watch?” Robbe picked up his head off Sander’s shoulder to respond.

“Oh my watch broke. I think it’s the battery or something. I needed a new one anyways.”

“Do you still have it? Sander asked as they sat down on the couch together.

“I can fix it for you” Sander was always the handy one in their relationship.

“You don’t have to do that. It’s old. Just let it go.”

“No come on. I want to. I can bring it back to life for you” Sander said as he gestured spooky fingers.  

“What's going on up here?” Robbe twirled his fingers towards Sander’s hair.

“What you don’t like my platinum tips with two inch roots?” Robbe leaned over towards Sander and sweetly rustled his overgrown hair.

This touch of intimacy spurred Sander onto his next thought. He grabbed onto Robbe’s wrist as he began drawing it back from his head and asked.

“Maybe you could dye it for me tomorrow?” His focus shifted downward. As to not draw too much attention as to what he was implying.

There was a pause from Robbe. An acknowledgement of the invisible contract Sander was handing over to him requesting some sort of temporal permanence.

“Only if you cook dinner the night after?” Robbe responded back.

Sander looked up at him with an adolescent grin and leaned in and gave Robbe the most innocent peck on the lips. There was no intent behind it aside from a simple thank you.

“Are you hungry?” Robbe asked.

“I could eat”

“Are you in the mood for anything specific? Italian, French, Greek?”

“Doesn’t matter” Sander titled his head towards Robbe direction. Tacking on.

“I eat everything”

“Everything” Robbe repeated in a sultry voice.

“Yeah everything” Sander spoke onto Robbe’s lips. This kiss, not so innocent.

“Seriously stop…order please. I am starving” Robbe pushed Sander off him in a playful manner.

Sander took out his phone to start ordering but before he did Robbe grabbed him and twirled him around on the couch and brought Sander’s back up against his chest. positioning his arm around Sander's chest. Sander placed a small kiss on the base of Robbe’s thumb and continued on ordering.

“Anything but french” Robbe said as he placed his chin atop Sander’s head.

“You know how I feel about french” Robbe added as he placed another kiss on Sander’s temple.

Finally closing out the dinner conversation with “Don’t forget something sweet for dessert”.

“Something yummy,” Sander said playfully.

“Yeah, something yummy” Robbe toyed back as he pulled Sander tighter into his arms.

****************************************************************************************** Salivating... 

The silkiest organ

Swirls of sulfates

Mixing… 

As the roof of his mouth pressed onto the demerara. Brandishing it’s sugary topcoating onto his enamel. 

Relishing it. 

“Tasty?” Luc whispered into his ears as he swallowed it down. 

“It’s so good” Robbe moaned with a full mouth. 

“Don’t forget to go slow.” Luc egged him on. 

“I want you to really taste it.”   

Luc told his boyfriend. “Is it sweet enough?” Robbe took a big gulp down as confirmation.

“Good, because I wasn’t sure if you would like the raspberry sea salt flavor” Luc quibbed.

Robbe and Lucas(he preferred Luc) had now been dating roughly around 9 months and in that time Robbe was sure Luc had fed him every cake in Belgium and the Netherlands combined.

Luc had one rule, you were only allowed sugar if you burned it off and well Robbe and Luc had found creative ways to work off their glucose consumption.

They hadn’t been together long but they had already established their after sex program. Luc would always bring some decadent treat along for them to share in their post fucked out haze.

Luc was so different from what Robbe had previously experienced. A total skate head with a beach bum swagger composed of a wardrobe of cuffed up light denim, extravagantly printed socks pulled up to his shins, paisley short sleeves shirts which he hardly ever button pass one notch and an array of different colored bucket hats, caps, fedoras and worn down chucks coupled with his signature fur collar denim jacket.

Luc wasn’t an easy breezy type. That wasn’t his style, he was always a little pumped up, boombastic when at his best. Years of living his life on ledges about to drop in into bowls, half pipes or slopes had made him permanently frenetic. He’d learned to meet Robbe in the middle though and give him one slice of cake before he would eventually hijack Robbe’s tranquility and kick him out of bed to hold an impromptu jam session, go skate or find some new concrete hideaway to go vandalize.

Oh and his music taste. There was only one god in Luc’s world, and his name was Marley. BOB MARLEY. Fuck Bowie.

Just kidding, Luc loved Bowie too. He was Robbe’s favourite so he loved anything his boyfriend loved.

If Luc hadn’t impressed Robbe enough during their first meeting well Robbe was not prepared. Luc was a real life wheeler dealer, a bird of prey. He could gnar with the best of them. Play it fast and loose. Go full vertigo. Nothing got Robbe more jacked up then seeing Luc shredding up a storm on his board completely shirtless with his jeans barely hugging his hips and a quarter inch of his boxer’s on display; his washboard abs glistening with sweat. Luc tailspinning through the sky like a stick of dynamite on the path to self destruction.

Luc lived his life like he rode his board. Bitchin fast, at full voltage, bursting with kerosene, no concept of consequences. When his sponsors asked him to ease up on his on the spot celebratory make out sessions with Robbe after his winning runs. He laughed in their face and told them next time he get Robbe to blow him so the kids could get a real show. I mean that was just typical snarky Luc. A real life renegade. Take it or leave it. There was no real way to describe him, a jack of all trades, a real mad hatter, some even called him an artist.

Robbe loved it. Loved him.  

Robbe hadn’t realized how much he had missed the familiarity of a known lover. He had gotten so used to the dribs and drabs of affection that Sander schlepped out that he had just sold himself short but Luc was some unexpected pixie prince who blitz in ready to declare Robbe his. No questions asked, stick a fucking fork in it, done, over, schluss.

Luc was uninhibited too. What he felt is what he said. Luc was loyal to the soil and Robbe was his budding flower. The first time he said “I love you”  he asked for nothing from Robbe in return. Love wasn’t some sort of payment system for him. Luc told Robbe when you know, you just know. None of that mask your feelings in mystery bullshit. For Robbe it took time but Luc was the catalyst he needed to finally wash away the remnants of his past. He did eventually tell Luc he loved him and he meant it but the experience in itself was surreal. See Robbe had never even considered the possibility that he would fall in love with someone else. Sander basically took Robbe’s heart hostage from a young age and Robbe never looked back but somehow this magpie dutchman with his steely azure eyes, a bucket hat and guitar finally broke through and broke Robbe.

“Baby, you want the last bite?” Luc brought the spoon to Robbe’s mouth.

Robbe shook his head back and forth on Luc’s chest. He was too comfortable, lazily placed atop Luc, straddling him. Luc sitting up against Robbe’s headboard with one hand through Robbe’s hair and the other carefully balancing a porcelain plate and fork. As Luc went to put the plate down on the bedside table he grabbed the little bit of whipped cream left on the plate and rubbed it straight down Robbe’s nose.

“Luc” Robbe whined.

Luc immediately cupped his hands on Robbe’s face and gave Robbe a wet sloppy lick. Clearing the cream off. Stopping at Robbe’s mouth to push the remnants of the cream onto Robbe’s tongue and into him. Robbe took that as signal, intensifying the kiss and started gently thrusting onto Luc’s hips. Luc smiled against Robbe’s mouth but before Robbe could really get lost into his heat. Luc broke the soppy kiss. He was such a tease.

“Have you been thinking about what we talked about?”

Luc flashed those pretty eyes at Robbe. Robbe instantly thinking he needs to stop doing this himself. Stop peering into eyes that have the ability to dissolve him.

“Mmmmmhmmmm”

“And….” Luc coaxed him.

“Don’t you think it's a bit too soon?” Luc placed his hands on Robbe’s hips slightly squeezing them. Assuring him he was listening closely.

“I mean it's only been 9 months” Robbe said in a barely audible whisper.

“No pressure” Luc ran the back of his hands on Robbe’s cheek to ease his visible tension.

“We’ll do whatever you want. I just want to be able to wake up next to you every morning”  

“And Bowie?” Robbe added on. Pointing at the black hair cat watching them at the edge of the bed.

“Oh shit” Luc let out.

“I forgot my apartment doesn’t allow pets.”

Robbe’s hands started to feel clammy all of sudden.  

“His coming with me or I am not coming.” Robbe stated harshly in deviance.

Luc laughed at Robbe’s reply finding it a bit dramatic but then he realized Robbe was dead serious. If the cat wasn’t welcomed, he wasn’t coming.

“Ok hear me out. You move to Amsterdam and we look for a new place and come get Bowie. Do you know anyone that could watch him for a month or two?”

Yeah, Robbe knew someone….

“Is he doing better with you?” Robbe enquired tentatively. Knowing this was a sore subject.

“Oh you mean has Bowie tried to scratch my eyes out, bite my fingers off or even let me remotely close to him lately” He let out sarcastically. Knowing damn well that fur ball hated the living shit out of him. He honestly didn’t know why, pets usually loved him but this one seemed to be planning his demise.

“Anyways” Luc said in an attempt to break up the awkwardness. “Sesh time” He picked Robbe off him and headed towards their acoustic guitars resting in the corner of Robbe’s bedroom.

“I finally learned the cords” Luc let out with excitement.

“Took you long enough. I've been waiting.”

Luc hands Robbe his classic mahogany finish Martin. While Luc sports a zestier walnut burl Yamaha.

“Calling rhythm” Robbe declared as he tuned his guitar.

Luc raises his eyebrows in acceptance. Handing Robbe a black pick.

Robbe moves towards the middle of the bed to give Luc room to hop on. They sat across from one another looking at each other.

“Tempo is 1 and a 2 and a 3……” Robbe tells Luc.

Robbe presses his left fingers on the frets. His right fingers holding the pick and he mouths to Luc E add 9 and begins to strum down, up down down, up down up, down, up down down.

Luc picks up Robbe’s tune and Robbe switches out to the rhythm.

Luc continous to play the intro.

Robbe starts to move through some bar chords switching from E to G causing the steel cords to whine out gently as Robbe tabs on them through his cord changes.

Robbe and Luc sit there bobbing their heads up and down as they get lost in the music.

Luc starts to sing the intro “Here comes the story of a hurricane”

Cord change [Robbe]  

The music begins to ascend, “Cyclone…...You’re on your own”.

The strumming is starting to get heavier now.  

Robbe slides his hand down the neck of his guitar to hit some high G’s.  

His eyes are closed now. He knows this part by heart. His working the pocket.

Both men are fully swaying now. In the groove.

Luc sings the chorus. The part everyone knows.

“It was bad and I was unable to pull him inside”

Cord change [Robbe]

They’re at the bridge now.

The strumming intensifies as they hit the crescendo.

Robbe is slumped over his guitar shredding it out. Aggressively bobbing with eyes closed.

This next lyric is Luc’s favourite. He sings it directly to Robbe. Robbe opens his eyes to watch him deliver it to him.

“I could never hate you. Even If I tried”

This part is all Robbe, the pick solo.  

The music is just flowing out of them now. The pace starts descending.

Luc starts playing a little slap stick to wrap it up.

Robbe is taking the melody home.  

Both men are leaning so far back their feet are off the bed as they strum it out.  

There shoulders moving in syncopation with one another.

Robbe winds it down slowly. Not wanting to let go of the moment.

But eventually he stops and lets the music go out.

Both men look up and giggle at each other in perfect harmony and share a kiss.

“I love you” Luc says as he takes hold of Robbe’s chin and kisses him again.

“Love you too” Robbe tells him back.

As they pull away from each other. Luc whisper’s in Robbe ear.  

“I am so happy that I found you”

Robbe shudders. Lightning strikes him. An overwhelming nausea overcoming him. His body stiffens.

“Are you okay?” Luc asks him.

Robbe hops out of bed muttering something about feeding Bowie knowing that he needs to get out of room.

He runs to his kitchen sink. His body violently letting out a dry heave over the sink but nothing comes up. It's just a reaction.

He hovers over the sink for a few seconds splashing water on his face. Trying to gather himself.

He feels something massage his arm. He jumps back and realizes it's just Bowie nuzzling him. His aqueducts begin to moisten so he squeezes his eyes shut and looks up at the ceiling. Attempting to will everything away but he sees it, the white studio with the pictures on the walls. His breathing starts to even out after a minute or two.

He opens his eyes, feeling somewhat composed. Thinking he managed to keep it all at bay but little did he know the rot within had begun to permeate, a contagion that was seeping into every orifice of his soul.

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

Is this where the living come to meet their death?

In the gullies of the earth.  

Where tranches of unclaimed dukedoms exist awaiting reanimation.

Oxygenless.

Still.

The soulful, arms up, reacting to the vastness in complete surrender.

Robbe feels the pressure, he moves slowly.

Unable to make out anything. In dire need to escape his holdings.

The laws of thermodynamics pushing him towards the surface.

He finally gives in. Contracting his body and propelling himself vertically upwards. Like a jellyfish moving through the ocean currents. His lungs thanking him as he reappears from his watery submersion.

Robbe’s vision takes a moment to adjust. Still in disbelief that he let Sander talk him into one of his usual clandestine expeditions of break-ins, yacht clubs and late night canal swims.

Robbe wipes the back of his hands against his eyes in attempts to wipe off the condensation clinging onto him. He can’t see anything. Its pitch black, and the canal provides no lighting. All he can see is the deck lights in the distance. Where he abandoned his clothing and all of his usual utilities.

“Sander!” He screams out in panic.

Nothing.

Silence.

Robbe starts to paddle towards the deck. He's been in the water for what feels like eternity. He’s exhausted so he twists his body towards the sky and begins to backstroke.

The moonlight is shining down on him.

He paddles lightly. Tiny waves billowing around his body. The stars surveillance comforting him.

Robbe absorbs the cosmos above him. His mind blank, calm, reassured. A baptism of the mind via compound elements.

Suddenly a creature from the bowels of the riverbed pulls him under.

He turns to face it.

Robbe and Sander are swimming across from one another. Face to face, the water encasing them. Sander swims over to Robbe. He goes to kiss him but before he can lean in, Robbe pulls up.

Ripples crack through to the surface as both men reemerge.

“Still don’t know how to swim?” Sander yells out breathlessly. Struggling to grab enough air to even out his slight panting.

“Still cheating?” Robbe taunts.

Sander paddles over to Robbe. He is so close to Robbe's face he can feel his breath on his cheek.

“Something’s never change”, Sander whispers to Robbe. His eyes glistening in the moonlight.

Like shiny emeralds looking back at him.

But Robbe isn’t swayed so easily by Sander’s charm anymore and responds.

“You know I was foolish once. The kind of kid that was impressed by breaking the law and making out in large bodies of water”

“And what about now?” Sander starts leaning in towards Robbe.

Robbe puts his index finger under Sander’s chin and moves his cheek to the side. Dodging Sander’s advances and says.

“Still foolish, but maybe not so young” Unable to contain a cheeky grin.

Robbe starts to paddle away from Sander. Then he stops, looks back at Sander and tilts his head towards one side and says.

“Come, race you.”

Sander gives him a soft laugh and paddles towards him up for the challenge.

“On the count of 3”

“1, 2 ….”

Before Sander could even get to 3. Robbe starts sprinting towards the deck.

Sander yells out to him.

“Cheater”

It seems so juvenile Robbe thinks but he feels so exposed as he stands on the deck putting his clothes back on in front of Sander. Sander has literally seen Robbe naked hundreds if not thousands of times at this point.

“Stop looking” Robbe slips out coyly. Pulling his jeans up onto his hips.

“Am admiring the view” Sander says with a mischievous smile across his face.

“Come on, hurry up.  We need to get home, Bowie needs his dinner.” Robbe checks the time on his watch. It clocks 21:21.

Sander turns around to face the Scheldt canal. His back to Robbe now.

“You know I once heard this story” Sander says. Still facing away from Robbe.

“About two boys and a beach house with a moon just like this one” Sander points up to the sky.

Robbe knows where he is going with this but he doesn’t want to hear it. Not now. Not this story. Not after everything that has happened. This story is off limits.

“Please don’t” Robbe says in a stern voice. Sander turns around to look directly at him. Knowing by the tremor in Robbe’s voice that he has hit a pain point.

“Why?” Sander challenges Robbe, annoyed at his lack of engagement.

“You used to love that story?” Sander adds on.

“I used to love a lot of things” Robbe threw back with venom.

Sander wasn’t amused by Robbe’s comment but he was prepared. He knew this moment was inevitable. So he continued.

“These two boys fell in love at the house by the beach”

“The brown haired skater boy……”

Robbe rushed him, pissed and asked again.

“Stop it, Sander. Just stop it”

Robbe pushed him hard now. Almost making Sander fall off the deck.

“I don’t want to hear your stupid fucking story” Robbe pleaded.

But Sander was relentless. Taking the opportunity to incite Robbe even more.

“Then we had the artist who fell in love with his skater boy.”

Robbe was seething now. An indescribable rage bubbling within him. Sander knew this story was hazardous. It wasn’t meant for retelling unless needed.

But Sander knew how far he could take Robbe until he broke him and he was determined to shatter him into pieces. So he went on with an almost growl in his voice.

“The artist would say that the moonlight was shining down on the skater boy and he knew.….” Sander suddenly charged at Robbe. Cupping his cheeks in his hands but with distinct force. His eyes pierced through Robbe as he slowly queued Robbe into the story while holding his face in his hands, peering down at him and asked.

“What did he know Robbe?”

Sander squeezed his cheeks even harder. It hurt Robbe a little, Sander noticed and lightened his grip up.

“Say it”

Sander’s pupils were fully dilated now. Almost black. It made him look so harsh under the moonlight.

Robbe stayed silent. He didn’t recant the story. He didn’t want to.

Sander was nose to nose with Robbe now. Still holding Robbe’s cheeks in place. Robbe was sure his heart was going tachycardic as Sander said.

“What are you afraid of skater boy? That maybe you’ll speak the story into existence.”

Sander almost violently let go of Robbe making him fall back on himself. Switching up his charm instantly into one of his nonchalant demeanours.

Then he said, “I think it's time to get you home Robbe. You need to feed my cat.”

And now….Now Robbe had had enough and he unleashed.

“He’s not your cat. So don’t come in here thinking you know what's best for him because you don’t. Oh, and just so you know. He hates that fucking diet food you buy him. He likes to be petted upwards not downwards. He sleeps on the right side of the bed because I sleep on the left and I give him half a cup of regular food because one third doesn't cut it anymore. His changed. You don’t know shit about him. You gave him away, you left him, you abandoned him and you have no right to him now.”

Robbe hadn’t realized he was so enraged until a tear rolled down his cheek.

Sander just glared at him, grinding his jaw down. His eyes squinting in a fiery veil Robbe hadn’t seen before. He said nothing as he walked towards Robbe but when they got shoulder to shoulder as he passed him. Sander stopped, looking straight ahead and said.

“I didn’t abandon him. I took him to the only person I knew would protect him.”

Sander walked off into the night. The moonlight shining above them.

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

“Do we need to protect your scalp?” Genade asked.

“Nah, It's not bleach, it's just hair dye” Sander said.

“I still can’t believe you won’t be a blonde anymore.”

Sander shrugged his shoulders as he checked out his dye job in the mirror.

“Sometimes you just need a change” he said.

“I am thinking of dying my locs too. Maybe purple”

Sander scowled at that statement and shook his head.

“No don’t do purple. I hate purple”

“I love your pink locs. They stand out against your skin. Make you look even more beautiful in the sunshine”.

“Awwwww, thanks baby” Genade pressed a kiss on Sander’s lips.

Genade de Heem was a half dutch/half nigerian hippie fairy with an edge. Sander met her at his tattoo shop's grand opening. Noor had brought her along as her plus one. Sander was instantly infatuated with her. I mean it was hard not to be she was a stunner. She looked like a young Zendaya. A real life ten.

They hadn’t been dating long. It was all still very new but so far she was close to perfect for Sander. She was a wild child like him. A Bowie fan too she even knew all the b-sides. An ink queen with a huge lettering piece on the back of her arms that read Love Is Love. She meant it too. She had no reservations or premeditations about people, life or love. She didn’t push Sander for a label either. She would say, why need a label? When lost souls are meant to be they will find one another across the dunes of life. So they just existed, and they were cool with that.  

“Babe you want to go out tonight? Show off my new look” Sander asked.

Genade agreed but added on.  

“Let’s make it an early one though. Remember we gotta bake those croissants tomorrow”.

Yeah, she was an amazing cook too.

“Ok ready?” Sander asked as Genade sat in the bedroom waiting.

“Yes, show me” She said.

Sander walked out of his bathroom into the bedroom as a full blown brunette.

Genade squealed.

“You look smoking hot”

Sander rustled his wet brown hair. It was certainly different for him but like he said he needed a change. Needed to “look” more grown up.

“You know what, lets just go out now. I am in the mood” Sander said, hyped up.

The pair got moving and started collecting their shoes and jackets but as Sander put on his signature Black Doc Martens, he thought nah. In tribute to his old hair he was going to pull out the white Doc Martens. He walked over to his bed and got on his hands and knees to peer under it. Those shoes had to be somewhere in this general area.

Finally he found them but as he pulled them out a litter of other shoes came along for the ride. All tangled up via their prospective shoelaces. Sander picked apart his white Doc shoelaces and dropped the rest of the shoes on the ground as he started the usual wiggle and jiggle to get his boots on. He hadn’t even noticed Genude staring at him from the doorway.  

“Your so pretty baby” Genude said in the warmest voice.

“Oh yeah come over here and I’ll show you how pretty I can be”

There was the squeal again.

Genude dropped her bag and jacket on the spots and ran towards Sander who was sitting on the edge of the bed but as she sprinted towards him she tripped and dove past the bed. Sander tried to grab her but her hands slipped off his and she crash landed on the other side of the bed alone.

“Ca’va?”

She pushed herself off the floor and signaled to Sander that she was fine just a little embarrassed.  

She went to look at what she had slipped on.  

On the floor were some old grey vans.  

“Stupid shoes!”

“I've never seen you wear these”, Genude stated in a prying fashion. Realizing quickly those didn’t look like Sander’s size.

“I don’t wear them anymore actually. Honestly I should just throw them away.”

As Sander grab the pair of shoes to toss them in the garbage.

Genude stopped him and said, “No keep them, you know how these things go full circle and come back into fashion.”

“They’ll probably be al la mode within the next year or two”. If she only knew.

“If you say so” Sander encouraged her.  

“Anyways, lets go, I need a drink”

Genude nodded in consensus.

As Sander headed out the door, he turned back around and kicked the shoes back under the bed.  

Forgetting about them for now.  

Sending them back into the darkness.  

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

The clock dials filled up the silence.

Tick …

tock….

Tick…

tock….

It sat above Dr Meyer’s office door.

He would just sit there and passively observe it. The time, passing forward.

He was usually disengaged and uninterested but something felt different today.

His voice pierced through the silence.

“There’s been something lingering” he said with little regard to the allowance of truth he was exposing.

His hands were clammy. So he gripped his fist. Hoping it would provide some sort of comfort.

“When I was younger, I use to let people control me. Influence my thoughts and feelings. Try to tell me what I felt without really listening to me. Or noticing how I was hurting, how I was changing. It made me angry, made me say things I didn’t mean. Hurt the people I cared about."

"It made me think I am never going to find anyone, at least no one who’ll really love me.”

He exhaled.

“But I did find someone and he was great. Perfect even, but I ruined it and now I keep asking myself why?” This was an unusual admittance for him. Sparking a recollection of last night’s happenings and the nights before that.

Laying in the dark.

A bareless ceiling.

Questions left unanswered.

“Are the sleeping pills not working?” Dr Meyer asked.

“Are they having any negative side effects?”

He hated questions like these, probing ones that were an attempt to calculate the durability of your mind. He also really hated the layout of Dr Meyer’s office. It felt like it was intentionally laid out to make you feel like some sort of dance monkey being poked at to divulge some existential secret about your own reality. He was over this session, he wanted it to end. Thank god he told the doctor he would need to leave early today.

“I haven’t been taking them. I mean I have them. It’s just ...I don’t know. There is so many thoughts going on and on...”

He twirled his index fingers around his temples. A depiction of his minds’ instability.

Dr Meyer took note of that comment and wrote it down.

“Could you maybe benefit from some mood stabilizers?”

That question made him anxious. Made him press his palms together and scratch his nails on the surface of his left hand. An adolescent twitch that became an established habit after so many years of over exposure to medical professionals.

“Yeah maybe that could help, but I think before I do that, I should try to find some answers. Take care of something that has been gnawing at me.”

“I could refer you to a more senior colleague if needed. Someone that specializes in sleep disorders.” The doc suggested with a sense of empathy.

“Could you maybe come back at 4pm today?”

He shook his head back and forth and started to get off the couch.

“Sorry doc. I have to go now. I did mention I needed to leave early today. I have to be somewhere at 10am.”

He put his jacket on and looked at his watch.

“And looks like I have 19 minutes to get there now.”

He gave the doc a one hand palm up salute to thank him for his time.

He walked towards the exit and as he turned the door handle Dr Meyer tacked on.

“Oh and Robbe”

“Try to come back at 4. So we can try to help you with the sleeping.”

Robbe gave the doc a lackluster sign of acknowledgement.

He left quickly.

Ran out the office, and into the daylight.

The autumn leaves scattered all across the pavement on his route to work.