Forbidden

By the time he quietly lets himself through the front door, he exhales , exhausted from the trip. The house is dark, peaceful and he leaves his bags downstairs, straightens a few things absentmindedly as he moves through the house, smiling when he notices little reminders of you everywhere.

Your favourite blanket folded over the couch, a half finished book sitting on the coffee table, a cardigan draped over the back of a chair that he knows you’ll eventually come looking for tomorrow morning. The sight of those ordinary things gave a wave of comfort and warmth in him , they always do remind him that despite any harsh attention words him in life, he’s got a little flower waiting to take him in her arms at home.

After making his way upstairs, he showered and changing into something comfortable, he pushes open the bedroom door carefully, not wanting to wake you, and spots your sleeping form beneath the blankets. Micheal just stands there, watching you sleeping peacefully, chest moving up and down slowly , seeing you asleep in your shared bed after weeks apart pulls a tired smile onto his face almost instantly. GOD you look so beautiful…

He crosses the room, leans down & presses a kiss against your cheek and another against your forehead before moving around to his side of the bed. He slips beneath the blankets and carefully settles behind you, automatically seeking out your warmth the same way he always does after being away. His arm slides around your waist, his face disappearing briefly into your hair as he breathes in the scent he’s missed more than he’ll ever admit out loud. After weeks of concerts, rehearsals & interviews , he feels himself properly relax.

It’s only when his hand settles against your stomach that something catches his attention.

At first he doesn’t think much of it, the thought barely registers because he’s tired, half asleep already, and his mind is still somewhere between airports and time zones, But a few seconds later his eyes slowly open again. His hand remains where it is while his brain quietly tries to make sense of the feeling, after a moment he shifts slightly, brushing his hand across the same spot again, more consciously this time, he makes sure to keep the movement subtle & careful not to wake you.

His brow furrows immediately.

No way……..

For several seconds he simply lies there staring into the darkness, trying to understand why a strange feeling of familiarity has suddenly settled over him. Then, memories from the past several weeks begin resurfacing. Little things and details that seemed small. You becoming tired more easily, the sickness you’d brushed off repeatedly, the way you’d seemed distracted during some of your phone calls and that doctor’s appointment you’d mentioned briefly before changing the subject. He remembered the oversized clothes that had slowly become your preferred choice lately. Separately, none of those things had meant much but together, however, they begin forming a picture so obvious that Michael actually feels his breath catch in his throat.

He slowly pushes himself up onto one elbow and looks down at you.

You remain completely asleep still peaceful, his gaze lingers there for a moment before drifting downward again Micheal gently removes the covers untill your stomach was visible.

ROUND…….a small bump…..

He looked back to your face, then downward once more.

Your pregnant

Your PREGNANT

A few minutes pass and he doesn’t move, he just keeps staring , his mind racing while the rest of him remains perfectly still. Because the very wish he has ever wanted with you when you promised him you’d love to bare his children, to be the mother of his children and to give him as many as he wants is right infront of him.

A baby

His hand remains resting lightly against your stomach while he sits there staring in complete disbelief. Michael has spent his entire life standing in front of thousands of people. He’s accepted awards, performed for stadiums and lived through moments most people could never imagine, yet somehow none of those experiences prepared him for this. None of them prepared him for sitting in a dark bedroom in the middle of the night while you the women he loves deeply sleeps peacefully beside him while carrying his child and realizing that the future he’s been imagining for years may has quietly arrived while he was away.

A smile appears before he even realizes it, small at first, then larger. Until he finds himself covering part of his face with one hand because the emotion building inside him feels ridiculous and so intense. He thinks about all those phone calls, all those times he’d asked whether you were alright, all those moments where he’d felt like something was different but couldn’t understand why and it all makes sense. The more he thinks about it, the more emotional he becomes. Then frustration slides in because you’ve been carrying this secret alone for weeks.

Attending appointments, hearing news, experiencing all of these changes and he wasn’t there. The realization softens some of his excitement with guilt. Guilt from leaving you all by your self, and not standing beside you, his wife that’s carrying a life he’s always dreamed of. He wished he’d been sitting beside you in those waiting rooms. Whishes he’d been there to experience every part of it with you instead of finding out accidentally in the middle of the night. If only he’d come sooner, though he understood why you haven’t told him over the phone. He had a feeling that you didn’t inform him because of his work, you didn’t want him overwhelmed and panicking and you were right he would have been so overwhelmed with joy and panic over this news.

Still, none of that changes the overwhelming happiness slowly taking hold of him. His gaze keeps drifting back toward your sleeping face then towards your stomach on that beautiful bump that has that bundle of life growing inside you. With all the harsh and negative part of attention he gets , he can already feel himself becoming protective and possessive . Already imagining things and planning for you and his baby.

Wondering what the baby might look like, whether they’ll have your smile or inherit his curls. Whether they’ll be loud or quiet or maybe they’ll love music and laugh like you. His thoughts run so far ahead of him that he eventually has to stop himself. Yet every time he does, another smile threatens to appear and silent tears start to run down his face while he gazes longingly at you and your stomach his large warm hand still covering the bump with his thump caressing it gently. A small laugh escaping his mouth, still in disbelief.

Eventually the excitement settles into something quieter and the questions stop coming, the nervous laughter eases, even the tears begin drying, though every now and then a few tears shill shed. Carefully, he leans forward and presses a lingering kiss against your forehead & another against your cheek & another against your cheek. His hand comes up to brush a few loose strands of hair away from your face.

“Oh, baby…” he whispers softly. A quiet laugh escapes him before he can stop it.

Shaking his head to himself, Michael slips back beneath the blankets and gently gathers you closer without disturbing you. One arm slides beneath your pillow and settles comfortably beneath your head while the other wraps around your waist, his hand instinctively finding its way back to your stomach. His thumb brushes slowly across the fabric of your nightgown. Tender and Protective.

He buries his face into your hair, breathing in the familiar scent that had felt so far away only hours ago. A few soft kisses find your shoulder. Another against the back of your neck. Michael closes his eyes, his hand remains over your stomach breathing in and out slowly. After a long moment, he leans forward slightly and murmurs against your ear.

“God…”

A small breath of a laugh follows.

“Thank you, baby doll.”, His voice wavers slightly,

“Thank you so much.”

His arm tightens around you just a little.

…………Except YOU never did.

That’s probably why he’s held onto you so tightly all these years without even realizing it himself, because you knew him before the world did, before magazines started printing his face everywhere, before interviews became rehearsed and exhausting, before every move he made became something people analyzed and picked apart like they owned pieces of him. You knew him when he still had grass stains on his jeans from running around outside with his brothers in gary. When his voice still cracked sometimes while laughing too hard, when he used to sit beside you on stoops late at night humming melodies under his breath because there was always music trapped inside him somewhere trying to escape.

You were there before the loneliness settled into him. That’s why Michael feels safest around you now.

You, never treated Michael differently after fame starts swallowing up his life. Even when the rest of the world starts becoming careful and overly polite around him, you stay exactly the same. Still rolling your eyes when he gets dramatic over small things, still stealing sips from his drinks without asking first, still laughing whenever he starts rambling too passionately about movies or music because once michael starts talking about things he loves, he genuinely forgets to stop.

It grounds him in ways you probably don’t even realise.

Sometimes Michael feels like everybody around him is responding to who they think Michael Jackson is supposed to be instead of who he actually is underneath all of it, but with you, there’s never any performance involved. You still look at him the exact same way you did when you were kids, which made him want to cherish you more; he’d probably destroy himself trying to keep that softness in your eyes forever. You’re his first ever friend….his best friend & someone who really loves HIM, just him no way will he ever lose you.

Your singing always completely catches Michael off guard the older the two of you get. When you were younger, he already loved hearing you sing around him, usually while music played through somebody’s radio during long summer evenings, but hearing your grown voice for the first time genuinely stuns him quiet. Because your voice doesn’t sound manufactured or overly polished like so many singers becoming popular around that time. It’s smooth, warm, emotional in this effortless way that crawls under people’s skin and stays there.

He still remembers the first time he saw you recording professionally in a studio. You were nervous that day too. He could tell from the way your fingers kept fidgeting with the sleeves of your sweater while producers adjusted equipment around you, but then the music started and suddenly your entire demeanor shifted. Your eyes closed softly, your shoulders relaxed, and your voice filled the room so beautifully that michael genuinely forgot to breathe for a second.

While everybody else in the studio started complimenting you and redirecting you on which notes & tones to change, Michael just sat there staring at you in complete silence, completely gone already and he didn’t even realize it yet. Face warm, heart beating and an unfamiliar feeling creeping up.

Despite the elegance and dominance of your voice your demeanour remains painfully shy despite becoming successful yourself. Interviews make you nervous no matter how many you do, cameras overwhelm you after too long, and industry parties become the kind of thing you tolerate rather than enjoy. Michael notices all of it instinctively because he’s spent his whole life exactly in the same situations. He notices the way you start shrinking into yourself whenever too many strangers approach you at once, the way your smile gets smaller when reporters become invasive, the way you unconsciously search crowded rooms for familiar faces whenever anxiety starts creeping up your spine. The way you search for him….

And every single time, his attention immediately shifts toward you without thinking. Sometimes he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it until one of his brothers points it out afterward.

“Hey Michael……Michael hey can you hear me?jesus dude you stare at her like she hung the moon or somethin’,” Jermaine muttered once during a party after catching Michael watching you from across the room for nearly ten straight minutes. Michael got so embarrassed he nearly knocked over his own drink trying to deny it.

Which only made his brothers laugh harder.

It’s no secret the way his brothers have seen him look at you, or when he’s deep in thought whenever someone mentions your name everybody notices it, his brothers don’t blame him though, you are a pretty little thing but also one who shared a lot in common with Michael. They weren’t surprised their little brother has fallen over heels for you.

The way Michael changes around you.

How much softer he becomes whenever you’re nearby. How his entire posture relaxes the second your voice reaches him in crowded spaces. How he listens to you with this intense focus like every word leaving your mouth matters more than whatever conversation he was having beforehand.

He becomes slightly clingy, more touchy, always wanting to be near you. Always needing to have his hand on you at least to feel your skin or have an arm around you.

Even his mother notices.

katherine absolutely adores you, partly because you’ve been around so long that she already sees you as family, but mostly because she hasn’t seen Michael this emotionally open around anybody else in years. There’s a certain lightness in him whenever you’re around that disappears almost everywhere else now, and she never been more happy to see the light in her son’s eyes return slowly.

You never really thought you’d becomes Michael’s emotional safe place, there are nights during the piles of work where the pressure surrounding him becomes almost unbearable. The expectations, the rehearsals, the interviews, the desperate need to prove himself outside the jacksons. It exhausts him so badly that he ends up showing up at your place late at night just to escape the noise for a little while.

You let him in without question. Every single time , no hesitation. There are times the two of you barely even talk; there’s others where he just stretches out across your couch while you quietly flip through records nearby, the room dim except for warm lamplight spilling softly across the walls. other nights he talks himself into exhaustion, voice low and tired while admitting things he’d never say publicly. How scared he is of failing how frustrating it feels constantly being compared to his brothers, how lonely fame actually becomes once the excitement fades away.

And you always listen.

That’s the thing michael loves most about you, you listen to him like he’s still just Mikey. Not Michael Jackson, not a celebrity, not a phenomenon,just him your mikey.

His favourite moments is when you never question his affection towards you and instead you return them, a hug here and there, a hand cubbing his face, a small kiss on his cheek or jaw, your hand running through his curls. And he LOVES it.

The more you both grow the more it makes michael quietly possessive in ways he doesn’t fully understand himself. He’s not loud about jealousy no no he’s not the type to cause a scene. But god, he notices whenever other men look at you too long, especially once your own career starts growing and people in the industry become more interested in you publicly.

It bothers him in this awful silent way.

His jaw tightens slightly whenever producers flirt with you too openly during conversations. He suddenly starts hovering closer beside you during parties whenever somebody’s attention lingers too heavily on your body instead of your words. If it gets too much he interrupts conversations, appearing beside you with a soft “c’mere for a second”

Just because he couldn’t stand watching another man lean too close to you any longer. His hand on your waist, his breath brushes slightly against your ear, him pulling you closer to his chest a protective grip and a warning that’s as clear as day….BACK OFF

As oblivious as you were would tilt your head in confusion for a second but let him take you with him anyways. Which secretly feeds his ego more than it should. For the rest of the night he would not let you go, nor remove his hand from your waist, occasionally nuzzle his nose in your hair and inhale softly, or clean his cheek closer to you asking for a kiss.

You slowly starts realizing Michael’s feelings through tiny details. The way he remembers every small thing you mention in passing, when he instinctively reaches for your hand in crowded places, the way his entire mood changes depending on whether you’re near him or not. There are moments where you catch him looking at you with this unbearably soft expression that makes your stomach tighten unexpectedly because suddenly you start wondering if maybe this thing between you stopped being simple friendship a long time ago.

It was clear the moment Michael dragged you backstage after one of your concerts, just to have his big hands on your waist pulled up against him and his lips pressed onto yours. Startled from his sudden reaction you melted into his arms as you wrapped your arms around his neck , your hand running through his hair.

Today, unfortunately for Michael, that happened to be you.

You had barely stepped outside before it started, denim shorts sitting low on your hips over your swimsuit bottoms, one of michael’s thin button-ups hanging loose over your bikini top because he insisted earlier that morning you’d “burn alive” if you stayed in direct sun too long. Meanwhile he’d spent half the afternoon hidden under shade in sunglasses and a little visor, (he just wanted to see you in one of his shirts in your swimwear…it was a nice view though he’s never going to admit that out loud)

Jackie whistled the second you came outside while Marlon nearly splashed you into the pool before you even made it to the chairs.

And Jermaine?…….lord, Jermaine would NOT leave you alone.

Not in an annoying way exactly, more in that overly smooth older-brother way where he kept leaning too close while talking, grinning every time he made you laugh like he’d personally accomplished something important. Though he never meant any bad intentions behind them, he was just a playful man messing around whenever the chance he got being a Jackson and all.

At first Michael tried pretending it didn’t bother him.

He really did.

He stayed leaned back in his chair sipping orange juice, chiming into conversations every now and then, smiling when you looked over at him. But slowly, little by little, he started retreating into himself every time one of his brothers kept your attention too long.

Especially Jermaine….Michael had a feeling he was doing it on purpose, to provoke him. All his brothers knew his feelings twords you, of course they HAD to tease their youngest brother.

You noticed it after Jermaine sat beside you near the pool with his arm stretched across the back of your chair, teasing you about how Michael always hogged your attention whenever you visited. Sighing you laughed; shook your head at his antics.

Across the yard Michael immediately looked down at his drink, just a tiny shift. His shoulders pulled inward slightly, his smile disappeared for a second too long before he forced it back.

That was always the thing about Michael when something was bothering him, he didn’t get loud he just got quieter, he wasn’t one to lash out like that.

He stopped jumping into conversations as much after that. Started wandering off under the excuse of fixing music or grabbing drinks that nobody asked for. Every now and then you’d catch him watching you from across the yard only for him to look away the second you noticed.

It almost made you laugh because he was being so obvious without realizing it. But you never liked it whenever something bothered him, Especially once Marlon started teasing him directly.

“Better come get your girl before Jermaine does,” he shouted from near the grill at one point.

Michael nearly choked.

Everyone burst out laughing while Michael turned bright red beneath the sunglasses, muttering something under his breath while waving Marlon off. Even afterward, when the moment passed and everyone went back to talking, you noticed Michael drift closer beside you again.

Subtle.

His knee touching yours when he sat down, his fingers brushing your arm absentmindedly when he walked past. Finding reasons to pull you into conversations with him instead of leaving you alone with his brothers too long. Clingy in the softest ways possible that made you melt inside. And every single time you looked at him afterward, his expression melted a little.

Like he couldn’t help it.

By the time evening rolled around and the sky started turning orange and pink above the backyard, most of the party had drifted back inside. Music still floated faintly through the open patio doors along with bursts of laughter from deeper inside the house, but outside things had finally settled.

That’s when you found michael sitting alone at the edge of the pool. His shoes had been kicked off somewhere behind him, curls slightly damp around his forehead from the heat while his feet moved lazily through the water. He looked calmer away from everybody else, quieter in a way that suited him more.

You sat beside him carefully, your shoulder brushing his.

“You’ve been weird all day,” you murmured softly, Michael glanced over immediately, “no I haven’t, it was just too hot today & my brothers were louder than usual,”

The answer came so fast you almost laughed, you turned toward him more fully, smiling a little when he looked away first.

“Mhm.”

He shook his head, trying to hide the embarrassed grin pulling at his mouth now. “They were botherin’ you,” he muttered after a second.

“Your brothers?”

“Yeah.”

You smiled wider at that ; watched him for another moment before slowly slipping down into the pool beside him, cool water wrapping around your waist as you moved between his knees carefully. Michael startled a little at the sudden movement, hands instinctively reaching toward your arms to steady you.

“What are you doin’?” he laughed quietly.

You didn’t answer right away.

Instead your hands came up gently to cup his face, fingers sliding into the soft curls near his temple while you leaned forward and pressed a kiss against his cheek.

Then another…….and another. One near the corner of his mouth that made him suck in a quiet breath, another against his jaw, his forehead,his chin and finally his nose. You spent a little more time peppering kisses on his nose, the place he hated on himself the most while you adored it.

That one made him break completely.

A soft embarrassed laugh slipped out of him while his shoulders curled inward shyly beneath your hands, eyes squeezing shut for a second like he physically didn’t know what to do with that much affection all at once.

“Stop,” he mumbled weakly, smiling so hard he could barely get the words out. You only grinned, thumbs brushing softly along his cheeks while you looked at him like something precious.

Because he was.

And Michael, sweet, jealous, attention starved Michael looked at you then with this completely melted expression that always appeared whenever he realized your attention was fully his again. You ran your fingers slowly through the curls at the back of his neck and felt him relax under your touch almost instantly.

“Better now?” you teased softly, he tried fighting the smile. Failed horribly.

“Maybe.”

You laughed quietly before stepping back and climbing out of the pool carefully, water dripping from your legs onto the concrete, then you turned back toward him, holding your hand out with a small smile.

Michael looked up at you for maybe half a second before taking it immediately.

You pulled him gently to his feet and intertwined your fingers with his while leading him back toward the house, his thumb absentmindedly brushing over your knuckles the entire walk. Just before you reached the patio doors, you leaned closer enough for only him to hear.

“C’mon, mike,” you giggled softly. “i’m all yours tonight.”

And you hated that immediately.

Because you could tell right away this was a man who had already grown used to minimizing his own pain for the comfort of everybody around him.

You remember asking him quietly if he could remove the sunglasses so you could properly examine him and the hesitation that crossed his face for a split second before he obeyed. Almost shy about it. Like he was embarrassed.

And when you finally examined the damage to his scalp up close, your chest tightened.

Because the injury itself was serious enough, but what angered you more was how exhausted he looked overall. dark circles beneath his eyes barely concealed beneath makeup. How sluggish some of his reactions were. How he kept rubbing at his temples whenever he thought you weren’t looking. Even the way he sat told you enough , stiff posture, subtle tension in his shoulders, somebody constantly bracing for discomfort.

And the moment you asked to see his medical records and the list of medications his doctors currently had him taking, everything only got worse.

You still remember sitting there in your office flipping slowly through paperwork while michael watched you carefully from across the room. And the quieter you became, the more nervous he started looking.

Because your expression kept changing the further you read.

Sedatives stacked on top of pain medication, sleeping aids, medications to counteract side effects from other medications. Temporary solutions instead of long term healing, almost no focus on actual recovery beyond making sure he remained functional enough to continue obligations.

You could physically feel your irritation growing.

“ Mr Jackson…..they have you rehearsing already?” you asked finally without looking up from the file. Michael shifted slightly in his seat before nodding.

“Some rehearsals,” he answered softly. “not too much.”

You looked up at him then, one glance at the exhaustion written all over his face and you already knew that was a lie told out of habit rather than malice, because somewhere along the line people had taught Michael that overworking himself was normal.

You think what bothered you most was how unsurprised he seemed by your reaction. Almost like he was already preparing himself for another doctor to throw more medication at him and send him back out to work. Instead you closed the folder slowly and leaned back in your chair with the kind of controlled anger that made michael straighten slightly without realizing it.

“This won’t do, you need proper recovery,” you told him plainly, “not just enough treatment to keep you standing. With all due respect Mr Jackson , these doctors your seeing do not seem to care about healing you, all I’m seeing is them throwing anything at you to keep your mouth shut from complaining about the pain.”

You took a deep breath and softened your gaze, “leave this to me Mr Jackson, I’ll get you sorted out straight away, properly……I’ll make sure those scars and pain heal”

The way he looked at you after that…quiet. confused. almost cautious. like nobody had phrased it that way to him before. After that first appointment you completely took over his treatment plan. The deeper you got into it the angrier you became.

Because once you started paying attention to him properly it became painfully obvious how neglected his overall wellbeing actually was beneath the image management. Yes, people cared that Thriller was successful. Yes, people cared that michael could perform. But very few people seemed concerned with whether michael himself was actually healthy.

So you started changing everything slowly.

Cutting back medications carefully after realizing half of them were worsening his exhaustion. Introducing herbal teas and natural sleep remedies because michael admitted one afternoon in an almost embarrassed voice that he hated how groggy the pills made him feel. Focusing on healing the damaged scalp tissue itself instead of just numbing the pain surrounding it.

And michael noticed every single thing you did.

He noticed that you actually listened when he described symptoms instead of interrupting him halfway through. Noticed how detailed your notes were during appointments. Noticed how you explained every medication change thoroughly so he understood exactly what was happening to his body, how serious you became anytime he casually admitted to skipping meals or sleeping only a few hours.

And slowly, without either of you realizing it at first, your office became one of the only places where michael actually relaxed. There would be afternoons where he arrived visibly exhausted from interviews or rehearsals and the second you looked at him you already knew. “ Micheal you didn’t sleep, did you?,” you’d say before he even sat down. His name rolling naturally from your voice, he told you to call him by his name once he started getting comfortable with you.

Once you said that your eyes gazing at him disapproving but concerned and tender michael would immediately glance away because somehow it still surprised him that somebody noticed things like that. And he still not used to someone this caring for him ,even though you’re a doctor and it’s your job, he still sometimes finds himself drawn towards your care. Sometimes you’d catch him quietly watching you while you worked too. Sitting patiently on the examination table while you checked over notes or prepared treatments, his tired eyes following your movements around the room with this strange softness to them.

Or when he subconsciously leans into your soft hands, and completely relaxes whenever you touch his skin

Because you weren’t looking at him like the rest of the world did. You weren’t staring at Michael Jackson the global phenomenon. You were looking at Michael……just Michael…..who is somebody clearly in pain. Michael didn’t know how to handle that at first.

He was so accustomed to people pushing him past his limits that your strictness almost caught him off guard. the first time you firmly postponed an appointment because he looked too exhausted to continue working afterward, michael genuinely stared at you in disbelief.

“but Frank already scheduled—”

“Micheal, sweetheart” the pet name just spilling out like it was normal. “ I don’t care what Frank DiLeo scheduled,” you interrupted flatly while continuing to write in his chart. “you can barely keep your eyes open.”

The silence afterward was almost funny because michael looked completely stunned someone had spoken over management on his behalf instead of the other way around including how you also called him sweatheart though he won’t admit it comforted him deeply & made him slightly flustered coming from a pretty doctor.

but after that?

He started trusting you frighteningly fast. Because you became one of the only people around him willing to say no. The only one willing to argue with staff when schedules became ridiculous. The only one willing to tell him directly when his body was reaching its limits. The only one who seemed more concerned with him surviving all of this than maintaining the machine surrounding him.

And sometimes, during late appointments after long rehearsal days, you’d catch him looking at you with this quiet unreadable expression while you adjusted bandages near his scalp or handed him another cup of herbal tea. soft. exhausted. almost vulnerable. Like he still couldn’t fully comprehend why somebody was finally taking care of him without wanting something in return.

Once you’re nestled against him, he often lets his hand slide to your thigh, the weight of it grounding him. His fingers linger, tracing soft, deliberate patterns that send shivers up your spine. Sometimes, he’ll slip his hand under the hem of your shirt, his touch warm against your skin, igniting a gentle spark of intimacy. It’s a silent exchange, a way for him to connect with you deeply, feeling your warmth and letting go of the chaos outside.

As he buries his face into your hair, inhaling your scent, you can feel the tension in his body fade. He finds solace in your closeness, his breath warm against your neck, and you sense how much he craves this connection. Occasionally, he’ll shift slightly, urging you to lean deeper into him, his arm wrapping securely around your waist, pulling you even closer. It’s possessive yet tender, a protective embrace that makes you feel cherished.

When nightmares stir him from sleep, his body tenses again, but your presence acts as an anchor. He instinctively pulls you closer, his hand tightening on your thigh, fingers digging in just enough to convey his need for comfort. In those moments, you whisper soothing words, and he leans into your voice, drawing strength from your closeness. Your heartbeat becomes a steady rhythm that calms the storm inside him.

In the dimly lit room, the male reached out a calloused hand to gently rest on your shoulder, his touch surprisingly gentle for someone accustomed to the rough terrain of the manor. In that simple gesture, you felt a rush of emotions - relief, vulnerability, and a flicker of hope that you weren't alone in your pain.

With a silent nod, he settled beside you, his presence a comforting weight at your side. There was no need for words between you, for in the shared silence lay a deep understanding that transcended the horrors you had faced in the match. It was a connection forged in the depths of the manor, where words often failed to convey the magnitude of the trials you endured.

As you struggled to steady your racing heart and quell the rising tide of emotions, Norton's steady presence was a lifeline in the darkness. His hand found yours, fingers intertwining in a silent pact of solidarity and support, a promise that you didn't have to face the aftermath alone.

You found solace in Norton's quiet strength, a beacon of light in the shadows of the manor. His unwavering presence spoke volumes, offering a sense of comfort and understanding that cut through the chaos and fear that lingered in the air.

Norton remained by your side, a steadfast companion in the aftermath of the match. His role as a miner shone through in the way he navigated the complexities of your emotions, much like he would navigate through the treacherous passages of the manor, with caution and determination.

As you sat there, enveloped in the quiet comfort of Norton's presence, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for his unwavering support in the aftermath of the match. Though the black haired man hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to navigate the unfamiliar territory of offering comfort and solace to someone in need.

Despite his lack of experience with overt displays of affection, Norton's actions spoke volumes. Sensing your need for reassurance, he leaned in slightly, his presence a steady anchor in the storm of emotions that swirled around you. In a rare moment of vulnerability, Norton's usual guarded expression softened, revealing a glimpse of the caring soul that lay beneath the surface.

Taking a deep breath, Norton tentatively wrapped an arm around your shoulders, a gesture both tentative and sincere. The warmth of his touch seeped through you, a silent reassurance that you were not alone in your struggles. It was a small yet profound act of comfort, one that transcended the barriers Norton had built around himself.

Feeling the weight of his arm around you, you couldn't help but lean into his touch, seeking solace in the simple act of human connection. Norton's presence, though unfamiliar in its tenderness, offered a sense of security and understanding that you desperately needed in that moment of vulnerability.

As the night deepened, Norton's instinctive need to provide comfort and solace to you grew stronger, overcoming his usual reservations about physical touch. With a subtle yet determined resolve, he gently lifted you from your seat, cradling you in his arms with a surprising ease that belied his strength as a miner.

Moving you to his lap, he settled you against his firm chest, his arms encircling your waist in a protective embrace. The contrast between his rugged exterior and the tenderness of his actions created a sense of safety and warmth that enveloped you in a cocoon of comfort.

Feeling his breath against your neck as he nuzzled his nose and face into your hair, a wave of shyness and flustered warmth washed over you. The unexpected intimacy of his touch, though not overtly sexual, stirred a gentle flutter in your chest, a mix of vulnerability and gratitude for his unspoken support.

In response to his touch, you placed a hand on his thigh, a soft and subtle gesture of reciprocity. The contact was a silent acknowledgment of the connection that had formed between you, a wordless reassurance that his touch was welcomed and reciprocated in kind.

With your hand resting on his thigh, you felt the tension in Norton's frame ease slightly, a subtle sign of his own need for comfort and closeness. In that quiet moment of shared intimacy, surrounded by the hushed stillness of the room, you found solace in the unspoken bond that had formed between you.

As the ex-miner held you close, his touch a balm to your weary soul, you closed your eyes and allowed yourself to lean into his embrace, finding a sense of peace and security in the strength of his arms. The gentle rhythm of his breathing against your neck, the warmth of his body enveloping you, created a sanctuary of comfort in the midst of the chaos that had unfolded in the manor.

“Norton…” you would whisper softly, loving how his lean yet strong arms wrapped around your small form in a sort of protective yet intimate manner.

However, as he observes your interacting with Orpheus, he begins to notice a sense of discomfort and irritation bubbling within him, which he can't quite understand or ignore. That man seems to be lingering around you more often, either greeting you whenever you both cross paths or simply inviting you for a stroll.

Whenever Orpheus is around, Norton finds himself unconsciously keeping a keen eye on him, almost as if he's trying to gauge the nature of his interactions with you. Why was that bastard near you?

Norton's typically stoic expression shifts into a subtle scowl whenever he sees you and Orpheus conversing, and he can't help but feel a pang of jealousy deep within him, a feeling that he's entirely unfamiliar with.

As the days pass, Norton becomes increasingly snappish and irritable, often finding excuses to interrupt any conversations or interactions between you and Orpheus.

coming to terms with his unexpected feelings for you, his jealousy becomes more evident in his actions and demeanor.

He finds himself becoming increasingly possessive, often hovering nearby whenever you and Orpheus are in the same vicinity, his eyes subtly narrowing as he watches your interactions with a mix of apprehension and frustration.

Norton's usual gruffness is amplified, and he becomes prone to making biting remarks or exhibiting a short temper whenever Orpheus is around, unable to fully contain the jealousy that simmers beneath his exterior.

When Orpheus unexpectedly kisses your hand in greeting, Norton's reaction is immediate and visceral. His jaw clenches, and a flicker of anger flashes across his usually stoic features as he struggles to maintain his composure.

It doesn’t get better when you smile sweetly or giggle at Orpheus’s gentlemanly actions.

Despite his best efforts to conceal his reaction, a palpable tension radiates from Norton as he observes the interaction, his fists clenching at his sides and his gaze hardening with a mixture of protectiveness and insecurity. After the encounter, Norton's demeanor remains noticeably strained, and he withdraws into himself, grappling with the conflicting emotions that the incident has stirred within him.

He finds himself unable to shake off the lingering unease that stirred within him. He becomes more preoccupied with thoughts of you, especially when you're alone in your room.

Norton finds himself instinctively drawn to your door, his usual determination and stoicism giving way to a sense of vulnerability and uncertainty. He hesitates outside your room, grappling with his internal turmoil as he debates whether to approach you.

Ultimately, Norton's concern for your well-being and his growing feelings for you override his usual reticence. He tentatively knocks on your door, his typically gruff voice softened as he inquires about you. Finding himself surprisingly eager for your company.

Upon entering your room, Norton's demeanor softens, and he finds himself opening up in a way that he rarely does with others, revealing a more vulnerable and genuine side of himself. It made you melt at his trust in you. He is after all a broken man who lost too much & only needed a tender touch to heal him.

The atmosphere would be quiet and calm, with Norton pulling you on his lap once he sat on your bed. He would hold you still by your waist and hold you closer to him, dragging his nose across your neck. Which looked very tempting and soft…..but he held back , taking in your sent.

And as usual you would let him do as he pleased, gently running your hand through his hair and slightly massaging his ears and the back of his neck. He always loved when you do that whenever he was stressed or anxious. It calms him down.

He never shows it though…

It couldn’t be right?

Caught off guard, a rush of emotions floods through you, Your heart aches at the sight of the creature who resembles the stubborn man under your care…Norton's plight, the anguish in his eyes mirroring the turmoil within your own soul. Despite the fear and unease that threaten to overtake you, the depth of your feelings for Norton refuses to waver.

Gathering your resolve, you step forward, your every movement fueled by a potent mix of angst and unwavering affection. As you draw near, you reach out to him, offering a reassuring touch, though he did not move…he seemed to be confused and….angry…

As you reach out to Norton, your heart racing with a mix of trepidation, you are met with a moment of hesitation in his haunted eyes. A flicker of surprise dances across his distorted features, and for a fleeting instant, the anguish etched into his countenance softens as he registers your unwavering presence.

Slowly, almost tentatively, Norton's monstrous form begins to relax, his towering figure slumping almost imperceptibly as the weight of your touch and the depth of your emotions wash over him. In that fragile moment, a hint of vulnerability pierces through him, and you sense the fear; confusion in his eye

“ Norton…”

He doesn’t reply but only continues to watch you.

As your hand makes contact with his, a tremor passes through Norton, his monstrous facade flickering in response to the warmth of your touch. The anguish in his eyes softens, and a fragile sense of calm settles over the clearing. It’s much bigger than yours and very hard but soft at the same time.

With each passing moment, you offer quiet words of solace, your whispers carrying the weight of your emotions, weaving a fragile tapestry of comfort and understanding. Your steadfast presence becomes a tether for Norton, grounding him amidst the tempest of his affliction.

Norton slowly lowers down and Sits on the ground, grabbing you by the waist causing you to gasp slightly at the sudden touch, and held you in place infront of him, probably trying to process the situation. You seem familiar…and your smell is quite soft and comforting.

…too comforting

You let him do as he pleased. No wonder what might happen if you anger him.

you find a wellspring of courage and continue your fingertips along Norton's stiff form, your touch soft and deliberate, Starting from his arms, you run your hands along the rocky skin, your touch a gentle caress that seeks to soothe the rages within him. As your hands trail upward, you feel the weight of his affliction, yet your resolve remains unshaken,

Slowly, your touch finds its way to his shoulders where his flesh was slightly warm, rubbing and massaging the tension in his body. Norton would slip out a quiet sigh here and there. Seems like he’s enjoying it.

Gently, your hands find their way to his chest, which made him grunt slightly, yet never made a move to stop you from caressing his dull skin.

Finally, your touch finds its way to his neck running your fingers along his pulse; reaching his ears giving them a little attending before going to his face, your fingers tracing the haunting contours with a delicate reverence. Cubbing his cheek, grazing your thumb in small shapes. You couldn’t help but pinch them. Giggling slightly as you do so.

Norton however tugged your waist, which made you yelp, cutting off your cooing. His grip tightening a little too hard for your liking. A growl warning you to not get too carried away.

You shiver slightly taking in his form again, your gaze meets his; he remains still, eyes locked with yours. Trying to lighten up the mood you reach up to play with his hair, running your fingers through his soft locks. As your fingers weave through his hair, a subtle shift in the air catches your attention, and you feel Norton draw closer, his presence a tangible weight against your skin. A nervous flutter stirs within you as he leans in, his breath warm against your neck as he takes in the unfamiliar scent that surrounds you.

Dragging his cold nose across the skin of your neck…Norton growls.

There’s a sent of another man.

A familiar one

Upon learning through life the harsh way he developed a deep resentment towards the wealthy and privileged, feeling like they had everything handed to them while he struggled to make ends meet. Despite his hardships, Norton possessed a sharp intellect and a strong work ethic, often taking in much longer times in the mines & pressing more pressure on himself.

It should be obvious that this man would develop a wall around him, due to how he would be treated by others. Trust is something Norton gave up on a long time ago. Ever since death took his father, the only man who held his trust and protection, away from him he learned the hard way to never rely on others other than himself.

You took notice of this of course, being the nurse that is. It was your job to note down each and every one of the men’s healths down. Though Norton was the most to stand out, given how he would always be the one to be brought to your office all beaten up and bruised. Thus how you’ve found yourself paying more attention to the scruffy man.

He was a stubborn one alright, either a miner or a guard had to drag him all the way to you simply cause he saw it as a sigh of weakness and refused to take acknowledge of his injuries just to get back to work.

You never thought about why he was this eager to get back to working in the mines, it was a hellish work alright yet he had always wanted to keep working more and longer than the others. No one really understood why he would go this far or what his goal was but, either way they simply shrugged it off.

Here you are again as you find yourself sitting in front of Norton, quiet and intimidating as he can be, as he sits on the bed, his cold eyes fixed on you without a word. Making you slightly nervous; His taller frame doesn’t help either, he may be slender but his body almost towering over you says otherwise.

The room is filled with the sound of your gentle movements as you tend to his injuries. You clean his face, hands, and arms tenderly, holding back from running your fingers on the scar surrounding his eye. Your touch a stark contrast to his tough exterior.

Norton's silence is heavy in the air, but you've grown accustomed to it. You know that beneath his gruff exterior lies a man who has seen too much hardship in the mines. His injuries, a result of the harsh conditions he faces daily, speak volumes about the dangers of his profession.

As you carefully tend to his wounds, you can't help but wonder about the story behind each scar and bruise. You've heard whispers from the other miners about Norton's solitary nature and the frequent injuries he sustains. Despite his reluctance to seek help, you can see a glimmer of gratitude in his eyes as you work to ease his pain.

He may seem rough yet….you know he isn’t one of the nasty men that would eye you up knowing the unpleasant thoughts that lie within their corrupted minds. He’s got a certain….charm to him, and denying the fact that he himself is quite a handsome man would be a lie.

All he does really is play with a strand of your hair or fiddle with your skirt, to pass the time whenever you’re taking care of him. It surprised you at first yet it was a small sigh of him putting his guard down whenever your around.

It’s really cute actually….and it made you warm inside…

Despite the distrust that lie in his eyes, Norton never really mistreated you nor physically or verbally. All there was, silence and a small nod he’d give you whenever you’d finish healing him up.

Which led you to always secretly make him a warm healthy meal, that would fill him up. It did bring up suspicion on his side but he never refused the offer and found himself digging in realising the desperate hunger that he lived throughout his life, melting at each bite he would take.

In this quiet moment, you find yourself wishing to break through his tough exterior, to offer him the comfort and solace he so clearly needs. You continue your ministrations with care, hoping that your presence brings him some measure of relief, if only for a brief moment in the harsh world of the mines.

As you finish cleaning Norton's wounds, you carefully wrap them up, ensuring that they are protected and will heal properly. You then prepare his medication for the day, knowing that he needs it to manage the pain from his lungs. Thankfully reducing the constant coughing he suffers from. As you hand him the medication, he meets your gaze for a moment, and you catch a hint of something softer in his eyes, a fleeting expression that speaks volumes.

In that brief exchange, you sense a silent gratitude from Norton, a recognition of the care and attention you've devoted to his well-being. Despite his stoic demeanor, you can tell that he appreciates your efforts, even if he struggles to express it in words. You understand that for a man like Norton, actions speak louder than any conversation could.

You watch him take the medication, his movements are measured and deliberate, a reflection of the resilience he carries within him. Giving him a sweet smile you can't help but admire his strength, both physical and emotional, as he endures the harshness of his work with a quiet determination.

Your presence and care have made a difference, however small, in Norton's life. You may not be able to erase the pain and challenges he faces in the mines, but you can offer him a moment of respite, a touch of compassion in a harsh world.

….the next working days you started finding different colours of small gems laying on your office table