Work Text:
He is following you, per usual. Watching you carefully as you pick your way through the flower field.
He'd presumed you'd left the house for a little stroll, but instead of taking your normal route around your village, you forged a new path away from the arid mesa biome and toward the more temperate fields north of your base.
The Knocker is excited. He loves knowing your patterns, but he loves seeing you break them even more. Where would the light of its life lead him today? The question thrilled him as it chased the answer.
He enjoys your company, no doubt. But there is something just a little more intimate in knowing that it is seeing you, unfiltered, unabashed, unbothered. He is the only one who has seen you this way, he's sure. No one else could know how you act when you're alone because they're with you.
That's what makes this special.
You're getting a bit far for its comfort, so he picks up the pace, skirting the field from within the nearby oak forest.
From where he is, it can see you stop and look at the colorful wildflowers. He admires the way your hair color shifts in the sunlight and the way you gently bring one of the blooms closer to yourself to sniff.
God, you're perfect, he thinks. From the arch of your back to the bridge of your nose to the curves of your arms to the joints of your shoulders. Everything it knows or learns about you makes him fall even deeper in love with you. And there's always something new to learn.
But it's getting itself riled up. If he gets absorbed in you he might get too… distracted… to actually follow you. Which is fine, sometimes. But not when you're doing something so unusual to your patterns.
He decides to focus on what you're doing instead. And what that is is you still admiring the wildflowers. There are roses, dandelions, oxeye daisies, and a few cornflowers in that patch of grass.
The Knocker suddenly gets an idea. Maybe all this watching could actually be put to use.
You sit down on the grass next to the daisies, and you tip one up to look at the pretty yellow eye on the center. You pick one then, and you pull each petal out one by one.
The Knocker keeps track of every motion of your hand as what you must be thinking runs through his head like a heartbeat. He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me. He loves me not.
The final petal falls. He loves me. The Knocker laughs softly to itself. It knows you didn't need a flower to tell you that. He would have told you it himself.
You gather the daisy petals in your hand and sprinkle them so they gently blow away on the breeze. Your smile is soft as you watch them float, but to the Knocker, he may as well be staring at the sun as the image of your lips burns itself into his mind.
He mentally shakes himself again. Stay focused. A much greater reward awaits him if he plays his cards right.
You fall onto your back and roll, now facing the opposite direction and at eye level with a small patch of dandelions. You're now facing the Knocker as well, who quickly ducks behind a nearby oak to say out of sight. Eager to not miss a second of your play, though, it gingerly begins to climb the tree and settles on a well-shaded branch.
You are still lying on your belly as the dandelions dance in the light wind. Perhaps there's an ant or ladybug you're watching mosey along one of the stems, he imagines.
You pick one of the dandelions, too, and then two more. With deft motions, you begin to weave them together into a flower crown, adding new dandelions as you go along.
A spider crawls on the Knocker's shoulder from how still he's being, from how intently he's watching you. He doesn't brush it off.
You finish your crown, and you hold it up into the sunlight to admire your work. The braided ring of golden flowers seems to glow warmly in the afternoon sun, like an angel's halo in a Renaissance painting. The Knocker forgets to breathe for a minute.
You stand then, flowercrown in hand, snapping the Knocker out of its awestruck trance. Time to move.
He expects you to begin your trip home, but to his delighted surprise, you continue walking north. As always, and forever, he follows.
Just as the sun starts to bleed out and accept Death's nightly embrace, you reach the north shore of your little peninsula. The cool ocean air blows back your hair and clothes.
If the Knocker inhales deeply, he can taste your scent on the breeze. He forces every breath to be deep as possible, drinking in as much of you as he can. He is a glutton for you, and he knows it. He should be restraining himself still… but he's been so patient this afternoon. He deserves a break, doesn't he?
He is so drunk on the thought of you that he almost doesn't notice you bend over and gently place the dandelion crown on a tongue of the lapping waves. Almost.
The ocean draws the golden ring in, bouncing it and twirling it on its surface.
You smile again, this time at the ocean waves that play with the crown you fashioned. The sight of you is almost too irresistible for the Knocker to handle this time. It digs its claws into the bark of the tree it hides behind and controls his urges. Just a little longer, he tells himself.
You watch the crown float for a bit longer, before shivering as the ocean breeze begins to nip at your exposed skin. That seems to be your cue to turn back, so you do just that.
The Knocker begins to retrace his steps, too, but pauses. He glances back at the ring of dandelions, out at sea.
After a moment of hesitation, it sighs and vanishes, only to reappear about a foot above the flower crown and the tossing waves. He is drenched with a splash, but after floundering for a moment he resurfaces and begins to tread water.
Scooping up the wet ring of flowers, he teleports back to shore, dripping wet. He wrings out the hem and hood of his cloak as best he can.
He then admires his prize. The love and care your soft hands used to weave such a delicate thing… it makes him feel warm and restless to think about.
He pulls himself off of that train of thought with great mental effort. He's not going to be able to contain himself for much longer, he knows. But he still has something to attend to before he can go back to you. His idea.
He starts walking back toward the flower patch as the sun drowns in the ocean behind him.
-
You are laying on the floor next to the furnace as it cooks your dinner. You've already prepared a few loaves of bread for your beloved, and they're currently cooling on the windowsill. The Knocker has a good nose, so you're sure the scent of fresh bread will draw your lover home.
Sure enough, you hear a sound that makes your heart race and your palms sweat. A brisk knock-knock-knock on your front door - it's the Knocker. Pavlov would be proud.
You sit up and wait for your partner to let himself in, like it always does after it knocks. But he remained outside.
“Knocker?” you call.
No answer.
You stand up and, confused, go to the door to look through its window. Sure enough, there he is, the Knocker. He is, oddly, sopping wet. He does like swimming once in a while. Is it just you, or is his grin a little wider than usual?
You open the door for it. “Welcome home, Knocker,” you greet him. His pupils dilate like they always do when he hears your voice.
“[__], my light. I've missed you,” it says, in a tone you've come to realize means he is extremely pent up and is trying to hide it for your sake.
You notice the Knocker has his hands behind his back. He seems to be fidgeting with something hidden.
“I have something for you,” it blurts out before you can ask about it.
“You do?” This is somewhat strange. The Knocker has given you gifts before, but they were always slipped into your inventory or on the table with a note saying “Don't say I never gave you anything.” He'd never been so upfront about it like this before.
He nods shyly. You also don't think you've seen him be shy before. It's kind of cute on him.
It finally reveals the surprise he had hidden behind his back.
You gasp delightedly. “Oh, honey!”
The Knocker had bashfully presented you with a fluffy and full bouquet of lillies and dandelions. Those were the flowers you'd picked in the field!
“You followed me all the way to the plains biome?” You say with awe, touched by the gesture.
Seeing that you like the gift, the Knocker seems to relax. “I would follow you to the Farlands and back, [___],” it says. “You know that.”
You smile at him widely, and he trembles happily, like he always does when he knows he's pleased you.
The two of you stare at each other in fizzy charged silence for a moment, until you shift the bouquet into one arm and pull your lover inside by the hand.
_
Peppering kisses along his neck and shoulders, you hold the Knocker close as it and its robes dry by the fire. He sits in between your legs, leaning back against you and tracing infinite lines along your arm with its finger. You were both comfortable and well fed after the dinner you'd prepared. The furnace now smelts some spare iron ore, just to keep the fire going.
Sojourning in the slope of his deltoid, you rest your cheek against him as you ask quietly, “How'd you get this wet, anyway? It's too cold for you to be swimming, you know. You'll catch a cold.”
The Knocker hums. “I, ah. Was retrieving something of yours.”
You laugh, remebering your crown, and you place another kiss on its neck. “Good. So you got my present, too?”
He turns his head at an unnatural angle, looking up at you incredulously. “A present? For me?”
You giggle. “Well, okay. I didn't exactly intend for you to find it…” You hug him closer. “But I'm very glad you did. I know how happy it must have made you.”
The Knocker's eyes widen, and you barely have a second to prepare before it’s pounced on you and begun passionately kissing you, hands already snaking into your hair and latching onto your jaw. He must really like your present.
You immediately melt into the kiss and return the fervor. God, he needs you, doesn't he? You remember the strained tone of his voice at the door, and how long he must have gone without reaching out to you as he followed you to the ocean. Poor Knocker, so desperate and easily starved of touch.
Slowly you realize he's muttering something against your lips in between each breath. “I love you… I love you… God… I love you… so much… mine… all mine… my love…” It's enough to drive you crazy.
Gradually, gradually, as the Knocker finally takes in his fill of you, the pace becomes less hungry, more tender. His hands ghost over the reddened lines he'd clawed on the back of your neck in his frenzy for your touch.
As much as you've enjoyed making out with your partner, you've begun to tire as Death's sickle-moon rises and nears its apex.
“Knocker…” you whisper to it.
It pauses against your lips, listening, not yet willing to let you go entirely.
You press one last kiss against your lover before pulling back. “I think I'd like to go to bed, darling. It's getting late.”
The Knocker looks crestfallen. “So soon?”
“Sorry, love,” you reply, gently tipping up his chin to look at you. “You know, you could always join me while I sleep, if you like.”
It blinks at you. “Would it disturb you?”
You smile back at it. “Not at all, darling.”
The Knocker trembles happily again. “Alright, then. I'd love to.”
You stand up, still hand in hand with your lover, as he stands with you. You put out the furnace, close the curtains, and finally lead your partner to your room.
“Now, don't you get frisky with me, Knocker. I'm not that easy,” you tell it sternly.
“I wouldn't dream of it, my love.”
You close the door behind you.