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frostsinth · 4 years

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Royal Flush - Pt 12

Part 1|2|3|4|5|6|7|8|9|10|11 - MasterList - Art - Art - Art - Art - Art - Art - Art - Art - ... Art - Art - Art ( #obsessed)

... I cried writing this part. I’m not going to lie. I felt like there was so much I wanted to put into words, and I couldn’t quite seem to get it all out. But this is the second to last part.

I hope you guys enjoyed all this... let’s call it ‘seriousness’, shall we? Part 13 will conclude the story. I’ve already got it mostly underway. I appreciate you all so much for sticking with me through this and indulging my obsession. These are my boys, and I’m right along with you guys on the roller coaster they brought us on.... I hope you can hang on for the final plunge...

If you want a happier chapter, I wrote an alternative Part 11 that spins off in a better, NSFW direction. Fully in character, but it was a “what could have happened” alternative timeline. That is available on my BuyMeACoffee which you can access through my MasterList page above. Only a few copies available, so be sure to get them while you can!

Anyways... I won’t say enjoy... Because I think that’s the wrong word for this chapter...

I stood before the small gathering of goblins, turning over the information just relayed to me in my head a few times. They waited in silence with bated breath. I could tell they were not used to that; I was sure “silence” was not a thing they experienced often with Grier as their King. The thought set a bitter soreness in my chest, and I tried to brush the memory aside before it could overwhelm me. I noticed them exchange a few looks as well, as if trying to ascertain what to do. Hibik’s eyes flicked to Damjan at the corners, and then he even turned slightly to look at the Master Healer and his apprentice. Damjan shifted, clasping his hands behind his back, and I saw Seoc’s hands wringing in front of him.

They appeared very unnerved by me. I could read it in their faces plainly. All their anxiousness, their fear; I could see their thoughts etched into each flick of their eyes and twitch of their expression. But I knew they would not be able to pull a thing from the mask I had constructed. I had carefully stacked every last grain of mortar and chip of stone back into place. A masterpiece perfected over a long lifetime of necessity. A face sculpted from marble and polished as smooth as glass. I considered them each one more time, and they became somehow even more restless beneath my scrutiny.

“You are certain?” I said finally, and they all seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief. I was happy my voice was flat and emotionless... considering the fear that pulsed through me at that moment. I felt faint, and my heart raced to try to provide the same blood currently rushing as fast as it could away from my head.

“Yes, Your Highness.” Hibik replied, bowing slightly. “We have confirmed it... The King has contracted the Rotting Sickness.”

“How is that possible?” I asked, my voice still flat but still firm. “I was told this sickness could not affect goblins. You have no record of it in your cities.”

Hibik hesitated, then glanced at the Master Healer, who bowed low until his long white beard scraped the floor by his toes. I tried to remember if I had been given his name, but felt as though I was swatting at drifting ash in a pitch black night.

“In its natural form, we cannot, Your Highness,” He explained, “However, it seems to have… mutated.”

“And your magic?” I demanded quietly, and I saw him wince.

“This mutation… it seems to have targeted His Majesty's own innate magic. Turning it against him.” He glanced back towards the bedroom door, where the King in question lay in a potion induced slumber. “Therefore our healing magic is ineffective against it, save to help temporarily alleviate his symptoms.”

My heart thundered in my chest, pounding relentlessly against my ribcage. I became distinctly aware of each crescendo of my breath, crashing in my ears like the waves of the ocean upon the shore. For a moment, I couldn’t do anything else. I stood, trying to bury the sinking dread that threatened to drag me beneath the cold waters. Trying not to linger on thoughts that grabbed at the corners of my consciousness and shook me for attention. I stubbornly pushed it all down, and stood like a statue for another long moment as I did.

I realized belatedly the tension rising in the room again at my silence. They were at a loss, I realized. None of them knew what to do... They were all waiting for me to decide. To command them. I flicked my hollow gaze to Hibik briefly, then returned my attention to the Healer. Trying to fight my way through the numbness to force sound from my lips.

“Then what is the King’s prognosis?” I barely recognized that the words came from my own mouth. They sounded distant and hollow, even to me.

“... The next few days will be critical to His Majesty’s recovery.”

My whole body stiffened at his words. I adjusted my tongue in my mouth momentarily before continuing. “And what are his chances?”

I saw the Healer hesitate, and glance to his second. I didn’t need to hear his words to know his response. It was written plainly across his face. My blood ran cold. “I am afraid… they are not good.”

It took every last ounce of my strength not to collapse. I had imagined myself into stone, and embodied a statue of a man instead of one made of flesh and blood. Withdrawing deep into the walls of my own design. Ones I had begun to turn a critical eye on. Ones I had dared to start to disassemble. Now ones that I needed almost as much as the air I drew in; elsewise I would melt into a helpless pool of gelatinous goo.

“What can we do to improve them?” I inquired stiffly. “What treatment are you attempting?”

“Rest.” The Healer spoke through his teeth, and I could see the sorrow lingering in the corners of his eyes. “Broth, when he can manage it. Keeping his temperature down… The majority of the battle will be up to the King alone now.”

I nearly bit my tongue to keep from snapping it at him. That was it? That was the best they could do? No teas, no potions. No magical charms or amulets or anything else? He was a King! Surely no expense would be spared for his treatment. There must be something more they could do. Honestly, I would settle for spiritual circles and prayers to dead ancient gods… The realization that it was because it didn’t matter who he was did not settle well on my shoulders. I quickly sought to think of something else and shifted my gaze to Hibik.

“The other goblins who came with us to the human Capital. Have they shown any signs of the sickness?”

He shook his head so hard his big ears flopped audibly. “No, Your Highness.”

I nodded curtly. “They shall be quarantined as a precaution. And warded, if possible. Any and all preventative measures put into place.” I looked back at the Healer and considered him with a harsh eye. “I do not want this to spread. Any spare resources will be utilized for researching a method to combat it. And I want a Healer to certify the Princess’ warding is still in place.”

Both Hibik and the Master Healer bowed. “Yes, Your Highness. Right away.”

“Consider all non-essential duties on hold for now.” I continued. “Everything that can proceed without approval or review may do so, but everything else must wait.” I looked at Hibik sternly. “If it is an urgent matter that cannot be suspended, bring it to me. I will trust these matters to you. Seoc shall take over your duties in the capacity of serving the King’s personal needs as well as my own while you handle those affairs. In the meantime,” Now I turned to Damjan. “Word of the King’s condition should remain within these walls. Only individuals who absolutely need to know will be informed. I want the guard doubled, I want reconnaissance and intel efforts increased, in case this was somehow intentional. I will not have us caught unawares.”

“As you wish, Your Highness.” Damjan bowed his head as well, seemingly pleased with my orders.

“Then go. Bring a report as soon as you have it.” I dismissed them, and watched as the Healer and his apprentice left. The former assuring they would be back soon to check on the King. The other three lingered. I steeled myself, reaching out one hand to the back of the couch as casually as I could. Pretending I didn’t need it to keep myself standing. “Is there more?”

The King’s Secretary hesitated, and he glanced over to Damjan for reassurance. The General stepped forward, jerking his chin at me.

“There is a matter of state that requires your attention, Your Highness.” He told me.

I clenched the back of the couch to prevent my hand from shaking. Looking off towards the King’s bed chambers again. I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to be here. I wanted to be gone. To run, perhaps. To run until I couldn’t breathe. To find some dark hollow place and crawl into it. I wanted to be alone, but feared that as much as I feared letting anyone see the crash of emotions inside me. I couldn’t access my head through the cloud engulfing me. I couldn’t handle the pulse beneath my skin. I couldn’t handle the throb in my chest or the aching numbness there. It was only a lifetime of practice that kept my feet beneath me and my mouth returning formal and practiced answers.

“Go on then, General.”

“The King has no heir.” He told me curtly, and my eyes jerked to him. “We need to be sure we are prepared-”

“The King lies ill-” I interrupted him sharply, my voice flat but heavy with denial “-No more than a few feet from where you stand. And you would speak of successors as if he already rests on his deathbed.”

I nearly choked on the word. But Damjan’s heavy brow furrowed, and I heard Hibik sniffle sadly, shaking his head. My lips pursed as the apprehension settled like an iron shroud. Dragging us all down towards the ground. Seoc shifted, his own face bleak and morose. I couldn’t settle my gaze on any of them for the pain of their expressions, plainly evident on their features, and so stared at some distant point beyond them.

“... The King requested this himself.” Damjan finally said, his voice thin, his face hard. He seemed to be trying as hard as me not to let his emotions overwhelm him. But he didn’t have my practice.

“Requested what, exactly?” I demanded, pleased that my voice didn’t reflect any of the storm inside me.

The General didn’t answer. Instead, Hibik tentatively stepped forward. Pulling a rolled parchment from under his arm. Holding it out to me gingerly. I took it as carefully as if it might explode at any second. I glanced around at them warily, then slowly unrolled the parchment. My eyes skimmed across it, hardly reading at all. Certainly not comprehending the majority.

Ice cracked through my veins as I realized what I held in my hands, and my whole body finally went completely numb. I blinked at it stupidly a few times, staring at the King’s signature at the bottom. Re-reading the final line several times over...

“...With their mutual consent, and in the presence of Witnesses, are entered and joined into lawful and holy wedlock...”

“... A-a marriage license?” I stammered before I could catch myself. Unable to hide the disbelief.

Hibik nodded slowly. “His Majesty had me compose it this morning after he spoke with the Healer, and signed immediately thereafter before he…” He swallowed loudly. “I-it was his wish that you sign it as well. That you might be named his-”

“That is preposterous.” I raised a hand, silencing him before he could finish his thought. “Dowager Queen Morag still lives. Certainly she-”

“The Dowager Queen was forced to step down from the throne when the King was 19 due to her waning health.” Now it was Damjan’s turn to interrupt me. He took a long step forward, standing beside Hibik and pulling my attention to him. “I can assure you, Your Highness, it has not improved in the last decade to warrant her a viable heir.”

I stared at him, then shook my head slightly. “I am human, I cannot-”

“You are the only one who can lead us.” The General snapped, his voice raising with each word. “If you do not sign this contract, and the King dies-” A shudder went down my spine at the word “-the Kingdom will be thrown into a bloody civil war while various factions fight for the throne.” He took another step forward, looking more and more desperate. I craned my head back to look up at him. “The noble houses will tear each other to shreds, and the economy will fall into ruin. And your Peace Treaty will become null and void. Leaving the human Kingdom vulnerable to attack.” He reached out as if to grab my wrist, his face contorting into a pained snarl. “If you refuse to sign, you will be condemning both Kingdoms to chaos and-”

I smacked his hand away soundly, my stance instantly becoming guarded. I held the parchment out to the side, as if to keep him from reaching it. My eyes flashed hot and angry.

“Grier is NOT dying.” I told him, and couldn’t help the sharp edge to my voice. He searched back and forth across my face, and I pursed my lips. “... I will not sign.”

With that, I turned, dropping the contract on the nearest end table. As if it were a hot coal searing into the tender flesh of my fingertips. I heard a bustle of activity behind me, as the goblins all began to speak at the same time.

“You are dismissed.” I said coldly, ignoring their sputtering, pausing briefly at the door to the bedchambers. “All of you.”

I didn’t wait for a response. Didn’t leave room for one in my command. I simply shouldered open the door and pushed it closed quietly behind me. For a moment, I leaned against it, working hard to compose myself. From across the room, I could hear Grier’s labored breathing, and each breath stabbed like a knife into my chest. I took my own shuddering attempt at it, felt my knees wobble beneath me. I choked on the air I tried to force into my lungs, and shook my head stubbornly. By the time my skull did clear a little, there were no sounds beyond the door behind me. I let a heavy hiss of air pass through me, but it crackled audibly as it fell from my mouth.

As quietly as possible, I made my way over to the bed. Stumbling as the numbness in my chest reached my legs. An armchair had been pulled to his bedside, and I slowly lowered myself into it. Then dropped my face into my hands.

Why was this happening? What had I done wrong? I raked my brain over and over again. Going over every minute detail of the previous two days. Had it been our time in the village? Or had the sickness already spread to the castle by the time we had arrived? Perhaps Lord Tipp had been a carrier. Grier had never told me how he got rid of the irritating noble. A great hook jabbed into my heart as a flash of memory reminded me of the little girl in the lower city who had hugged me. Then later that same day, Grier had also…

I rubbed at my face, then ran my hands over the back of my neck. It didn’t matter how anymore, I told myself. And there was no way to know for sure. I tried to push it aside, sneaking a glance at the goblin out the corner of my eye. He shifted slightly, as if sensing my gaze. Though I knew the draught the Healer had given him would keep him in a deep sleep for some time yet. I swallowed my anxiousness, sitting up and reaching over to pluck a washcloth from beside the basin set on the bedside table. Needing to do something to stave off the helplessness that threatened to overwhelm me. As soon as I leaned over him, I could feel the heat pouring from his body. It set the ache back into my chest, but I gritted my teeth and pushed his hair back out of his face. Gently, I dabbed at the sweat lining his brow. He sighed in his sleep, turning slightly, but otherwise laying still. I watched the shape of his eyes move beneath his lids, and wondered what he was dreaming about. If he was dreaming at all.

I stroked the cloth down the side of his face, tracing the edge of his jaw distractedly then down his damp neck. They had dressed him sparingly, with only linen trousers, and had laid him on top of his heavy blankets. A thin sheet covered him to keep off any drafts, but the soft fire that snapped in the small fireplace at the edge of the room kept his chambers warm. Bathing them in a dim orange glow. The enchantment on my eyes struggled with the shifting lights, playing games with the shadows at the edges of my vision. I paused, lingering with the cloth poised by his cheek again. My thumb came out, and I brushed the pad gently across his hot skin. My heart lurched in my chest, and I swallowed a painful lump.

I stood suddenly, dropping the cloth onto the edge of the basin. Unable to sit and watch him struggle to breathe. I blinked rapidly, then strode off. Only to halt a few paces away. Unwilling to leave him there alone. I hesitated, looking back over my shoulder. Torn in half by the two pains; one of seeing him in this state, the other of not being able to see him at all.

I stared at the ground blankly for a few minutes before my eyes actually saw the crumpled shirt there. Slowly, without thinking, I bent down and picked it up. The spicy sweet scent of him wafted off the cloth, and I had to resist the urge to bring it to my nose. Instead, I folded it, carefully and delicately. Then looked around. A small basket of washing seemed to be by the door… I paced over to it slowly and placed the shirt inside. Another glance found a pair of trousers just shy of the basket. I took those up and folded them as well. Then another shirt. Then… a jacket, I supposed, though it was hard to distinguish based upon what seemed to be an extra sleeve.

Soon I found myself organizing and sorting the other various items in the room once the clothes had all been piled in the basket. I ran my hands over each, imagining what Grier might have to say about it. Wondering how he had come upon it, or what significance it had to him. I fabricated a few stories to entertain myself as I worked my way around the room. There was certainly no small supply of things to resituate and reorganize. I found some semblance of order amid not only the chaos of his personal belongings, but also the chaos swirling in my head. I let my mind wander, thinking hard and deeply for a long, long time as I worked. Returning to the bed every little while to reach out and reassure myself I was not imagining the strangled breathing, and that Grier was still there…

...

“Did I ever tell you about the first time I saw you?” Came the weak voice from the bed.

I spun, nearly dropping the small chest I was holding. Beady red eyes peered at me from amid the billowous blankets. My breath skittered from my throat, and I was hard pressed to draw in a new one with how tightly it constricted behind the first.

“You should be resting…” I told him, placing the chest quietly back on the table. It was the first time he had opened those scarlet eyes of his all day, and I couldn’t help but move to the bedside despite my words. “I-I’m sorry if I woke you.”

He gave me a small, feeble smile. “Did I?”

Slowly, I sat in the chair beside him, leaning over my knees to better make out his quiet voice. “... Did you what?”

“Ever tell you?” He pressed.

His voice was thin and breathy, as if each word took the entirety of his lung capacity to speak. I shook my head carefully, glancing down at my hands in my lap.

“... You mean in the throne room? When I came-”

Now it was his turn to shake his head, and he did so sluggishly. “No. That was the second time.” My eyebrows raised, and he grinned a little more, still half the strength of even his smallest usual smile. “The first time… must have been almost three years ago.”

“... Wh-what do you mean?” I stammered. “W-we… It’s only been maybe a month-”

He hummed softly, and his eyes drifted closed. But his hand moved, reaching out from beneath the covers until the fingertips brushed my knee near the side of the mattress. I glanced down at them, and my heart skipped. At first, I thought perhaps he had fallen back asleep. Then his soft voice petered from between his thin lips again.

“I had been told there was a Prince at the frontlines. Though the messenger couldn’t say for sure which Prince… I assumed not the Crown Prince. He rarely left the castle…” The corners of his mouth twitched into a tiny smirk, and he mumbled around its shape. “We didn’t know much about the human Royals then. Only that the King had three children. Two of them Princes… it had never been anything we cared to know more about.” His eyes cracked back open, and he rolled them to look up at me. “I insisted on going to see. No one could talk me out of it.” His teeth flashed beneath his lips briefly. “... I can be very stubborn.”

The goblin moved his fingers again, grazing against the folds of fabric on my pant leg. I noticed beads of sweat beginning to drip down his brow again. Noticed his wild hair was nearly plastered flat to his scalp. I turned, plucking the cloth from the water basin on the end table. I squeezed it out, then gently dabbed at his forehead. He sighed tiredly as the cool cloth touched his skin, and his eyes drooped closed again. I rolled the cloth over the back of his neck, and pushed his hair out of his face. I could feel the heat still pouring off him, and it set the ache in my chest throbbing once more. Though that hadn’t let up since that first morning a few days prior.

“Damjan and his lieutenant escorted me,” He continued, and I almost started at the sound of his voice, I had been so lost in my thoughts, “To the crest of a hill, right at the disputed boundary. They cast so many defensive spells and charms on me, the air felt electric… Still, they had me keep low, out of sight, and we were… a few hundred yards away?”

“Shhhh.” I told him, refreshing the water on the cloth and wringing out the excess again. “...Save your strength.”

He ‘hurmphed’ softly, his only acknowledgement of my words before he promptly ignored them. “There was… a thin line of trees lining a trail that ran parallel to us… They looked like... like twigs… it was autumn, so there were no leaves, and everything was grey and bland and…” His voice faded weakly. I could hear the dryness, and returned the cloth to the basin.

“Here.” I told him, scooping my arm gently beneath his shoulders and propping him up as I brought a goblet of warm, watered-down broth to his lips. He sucked at it greedily, but only managed half before he fell back against my arm. I slowly lowered him to the pillows as he licked at his lips.

“... I had never seen so many humans in one place before. They all looked… broken. Worn and battered. Covered in mud.” He continued, and his eyes sought mine as I settled back into my seat. “Most were limping… I could almost smell the blood on the air.” He blinked slowly, and his gaze became distant as he fell into the memory. “I remember thinking… that they looked like they were behind bars… because of the trees and shadows… And they trudged single file down this muddy stretch. Those that could, anyway. All but indistinguishable from one another.”

I was surprised by the vibrancy of the scene he described, and more surprised to find it a familiar one. I had a pretty good idea of the time he was talking about; and my heart dropped at the memory. It had been a long trek back from the front. Defeated, discouraged. Injured and weak. I wracked my brain to try and think of the particular day, as they all blended together. I had been so lost in my sorrow then... Goosebumps shot across my skin to think there had been an audience during that solemn trudge. My brow furrowed as I recalled it, and I glanced at him sidelong. Wondering where this was going.

“...I was told we had missed the Prince. We’d have to move further up the line if I wanted to see him… because there was no way he would be with the injured men below. Damjan was positive we wouldn’t see him at all.” He sighed weakly, his head lightly tossing to and fro. “There was no glory. No fanfare or bright banners. Just blood, and filth, and mud, and…. Nothing for a Prince, he had said.” He sighed again, his breath even thinner. “Damjan sent his lieutenant to scout ahead. To try and find out if the Prince was further up. But I stayed to watch… I was… horrified by what I saw. I don’t think…” His eyes closed briefly. “I don’t think I had ever really… understood what the war meant. Until that moment.”

“...Grier…” I started to protest, readying an argument for him to save his strength again.

“Then, one of them fell.” He persisted, still ignoring me, his face scrunched. “There was a lot of shouting… we couldn’t make it out from where we were… chaos and noise and...” Suddenly his eyes came back, and he looked over at me, a small light in their scarlet depths. “And then… then you were there… You came up from somewhere near the back of the line. I didn’t realize who you were at first. Damjan had to point you out… I saw the men fall silent and part like water to let you through. No bowing, no fanfare. Just… quiet respect.” I flushed, starting to shake my head. His hand came out, and I glanced at it as it lingered next to my knee again. When I checked his face, his eyes were closed. As if to see the moment more clearly. “You were nearly as muddy as they were, but I think you were wearing a different color than them. I couldn’t see your face though. You had your back to us…” His voice petered out again, and he gave a breathy sigh.

As the silence stretched for a breath too long, I reached out. Tentatively brushing my fingers against his wrist. As if to assure myself he was still there. His breathing was shallow and ragged, and I struggled to keep myself from being overwhelmed by the pang of sadness that sight brought. His hand slowly closed around my fingers, and I ached at the weakness of them.

“Within moments, you had organized the chaos… You sent someone for… a healer, I’m guessing. But you crouched down next to the fallen man. Called for water… wiped the mud from his face with your sleeve…” I slowly turned my hand in his, listening quietly to his words. I couldn’t remember the day he was talking about. Not specifically… there had been many such moments. I tried to remember the trees, and the hills. I started to shake my head again. He gave my fingers a feeble squeeze, stilling me. “And then…” He drew in a sharp breath, and a smile split his lips slowly, his eyes opening. “And then you turned… and… And I swear it was like the sun coming out from behind the clouds…”

“Grier…” I mumbled again, uncertain what else to say, my ears hot.

“I decided it.” He declared softly. “Right then and there… I decided to end the war… I saw your face and…”

“Y-you should get some rest.” I stammered, and carefully began to untangle his fingers from mine. “... You’re not making any sense.” I shook my head a final time. “You act as though you were looking for me.”

“I was.” He breathed, nodding groggily. “I wanted to see you.”

I frowned down at him, but his eyes were struggling to stay open. I pushed his hair back out of his face one more time and tucked his hand against his body. My lips burned with questions. Instead, I sat back in my chair, watching him quietly for a moment as he fought with the fever that dragged at his consciousness.

“Sleep.” I told him. “... W-We can… we can talk more when you’re better.”

He scoffed groggily at that. Then his eyes fluttered shut. And I was left alone with just my thoughts and his ragged breaths to fill the silence.

....

“Your Highness,” Came Hibik’s soft voice, “The Princess is here to see you.”

I nodded dumbly, rubbing a hand across my face and moving to stand with as much care as if each of my joints were made of glass. I glanced back over at Grier as the smaller goblin came deeper into the room.

“I will stay with him, Your Highness,” Hibik assured me gently, “You can see your sister. And get a real night’s sleep.”

I said nothing for a moment, simply watching Grier without moving. But the King was still sleeping, despite the voices around him. It had almost been two days since the last time he had woken… Finally assured that was still the case, I turned back to Hibik.

“... I’ll be back after I speak with Morgana.” I told him.

“Your Highness, you need to rest too-”

I shook my head. “You need not concern yourself, Lord Hibik.” I assured him. “I am fine.”

Hibik looked me up and down. “... Your Highness, you have been at his side since he first… I-it’s been days. You have barely eaten-”

I waved him into silence. “Keep an eye on him. I will return shortly.”

Morgana bounced excitedly to see me again, but quickly remembered where she was and became more solemn. Hibik had lit the candles and fireplace of the King’s foyer, and there was plenty of space to sit now that I had begun to properly clear it all. I had even sorted through the huge armchair of discarded clothes and sent everything off to be carefully washed. Apparently he had a large closet off his bedroom, though one would’ve been hard pressed to tell based upon the state of his wardrobe scattered across the rest of his rooms. My sister skipped over and gave me a hug, which I returned distractedly. My eyes lingering on a familiar piece of parchment, still where I had left it on the end table after Hibik had given it to me to read...

“I brought you some uyapik,” she told me, pulling a wadded up handkerchief from her pocket, spotted with grease, “And a story to read.”

I turned back to her and ran a hand over the top of her head. “Thank you, chickadee. You are very sweet.”

She led us over to the armchair facing away from the bedroom door and sat me down. Then stood with her hands on his hips until I had eaten both uyapik to her satisfaction, before carefully climbing onto my lap. I wrapped my arms gently around her, and she pulled out the book as she rested her head in the crook of my neck.

“Is Grier getting better?” She asked me softly as I flipped through the pages to the spot she had bookmarked for us.

I stiffened slightly at her words, then swallowed a lump in my throat. “... He hasn’t gotten worse, at least, chickadee.” I replied honestly, my voice thin. I pushed her hair back out of her face. “... How is Safa? Is she taking good care of you?”

I heard the smile in her voice as she responded. “She’s very silly. She tells me all kinds of fun stories, and we’ve been all over the castle.” She said. “But she insists on wearing these big poofy dresses, and she can’t move very quickly. And she always wants to play with my hair. She says it’s very thick and soft and pretty. I told her only you can do my hair. I don’t like when anyone else does it.”

“She sounds nice though.”

“... Can you come out with us, Niko?” She asked softly. “... Maybe Grier can come too. Safa says fresh air can be good for sick people. Maybe it’ll help.”

I gave her a weak squeeze. “I-I… I don’t so, chickadee… He’s needs his rest...”

“Oh…” She sounded so sad, I felt my eyes grow damp. It was too close an echo of my own sorrow.

“Perhaps you can bring him some flowers instead,” I suggested, trying to distract myself as well as her, “That would help, I am certain. Bringing a bit of the outside in.”

Morgana bounced a little, reaching up to ring her arms around my neck. “I can do that. I’ll get him the biggest, smelliest, most colorful flowers I can find.”

I buried my nose in her hair. “That sounds wonderful, chickadee.”

“And I’ll bring you lilies, Niko,” She told me, “If goblins have lilies. That way you can feel better too.”

I choked back the tears again, and nodded. Letting her take the book from my hand in her usual impatience and flip through the last few pages to reach her bookmark. I listened quietly to her while she babbled, alternating between reading the passage and adding in her own flourishes. I even managed to close my eyes, leaning my cheek against the top of her head. I could almost forget when I was with her. Could almost pretend everything was still right in the world. Could pretend I didn’t constantly worry about what the future might have in store. For both of us now, I remembered with a stab of guilt, since I had brought her here with me. And I could almost remember that strange but lovely warm feeling I had been starting to enjoy before…

I almost missed the soft click click click on the stone floor marking someone’s approach.

“Well now, is this the Onsakin I have been hearing so much about? Pah!” Came the thin, wiry voice. “She looks just like you, mo shiba.”

I turned in surprise to see the Dowager Queen standing a few feet away, cane in hand. Quickly, I moved to stand, gathering up Morgana in my arms as I went. For her part, my sister looked curious, tilting her head to the side. I saw her taking in Morag’s voluminous skirts and dozens of jewelry bits and bobbles. She clutched the book to her chest as I slowly lowered her to the ground.

“Welcome back, Your Grace-” I greeted her respectfully, bowing as I placed Morgana back on her feet.

“Ina Morag, mo shibaba. I have told you this many times.” She tapped her cane on the floor to emphasize her point.

Morgana tugged on my tunic, glancing up at me and then back at Morag. The question lingering in her curious eyes.

“Ina Morag, may I present my sister, Princess Morgana Delarosa Marie of Geriveria.” I intoned, hoping my voice didn’t sound too heavy with my exhaustion. I rested a gentle hand on the top of Morgana’s soft hair. “Chickadee, this is Dowager Queen Morag.”

“Pah!” Scoffed Morag. “You shiba have such long names. I do not have the breath for all this!”

Morgana tugged on my tunic again. Shyly waving me down so she could whisper in my ear. “What does ‘dowager’ mean?”

I slowly straightened. “‘Dowager’ means she was married to the old King,” I explained, “This is Grier’s mother.” I pretended like I didn’t almost choke on his name.

“You’re Grier’s mother?” Morgana said a little louder, sounding fascinated, her eyes going wide.

Morag nodded. “Yes, Onsakin, I am his ina.” She cocked her head to the side, her jewelry jangling as she did. “I have been wanting to meet you since you arrived.” She tapped her cane on the floor angrily. “But this abhama has not brought you to me yet!”

“What does Onsakin mean?” My sister asked, swaying from foot to foot as her excitement began to build. Her little mouth moved over the strange word tentatively, forming each syllable with great care.

“Ah, it means, ‘Little Princess’, I believe.” I told her.

Morgana put her hands on her hips. “I am not little!” She scoffed, then stood a little straighter. “I’m taller than you!”

“Morgana!” I scolded, but it lacked any strength behind it.

“PAH!” Laughed Morag, tapping her cane again. “I like this one! She is like you, she has spirit! Mian’we boshta!“ I felt the corners of my lips twitch, longing to smile, but feeling far too heavy to manage. The Dowager Queen considered this, and her scarlet eyes flickered to the bedroom door. “... How is mo apawi?”

“... No better, Your Grace.” I murmured softly, dropping my eyes.

She let my slip go by unaddressed, giving a soft ‘hmm’ instead. It sounded so much like Grier’s, I had to ball my fists to keep the quiver from my hands. I still could not bear to meet her eyes. I felt Morgana’s hand wiggle between my clenched fingers, and she gave my hand a gentle squeeze. I returned it gratefully, but had not the strength for more than that. I felt the tickling edges of shame that my emotions and thoughts were apparently so plain to read, and swallowed nervously.

“He is strong, mo shibaba,” She assured me gently, then nodded herself, “He is young. He will pull through.” Her confidence seemed to wave momentarily, but then I felt her cane come out to tap the tip of my boot. “... He has a good reason to.”

“If you are Grier’s mother,” Morgana chimed in, “How come you are so small? Why is Grier so much taller than all the other goblins? Did you use magic to make him bigger?”

“PAH!” Morag laughed again. “Perhaps someone did put a charm on the boy. You should have seen that abhama when he was born, Onsakin. He was so tiny, you could fit him in your pocket.”

Her eyes lit up. “Really? Are all goblins that small?” She glanced up at me. “I thought maybe Grier’s mother might be an orc, like Damjan’s.” Her attention turned back to the Queen. “Was his father tall? Or did you really use magic?” I noticed her eyes narrow. “... You’re not an orc, right?”

Again, another melodic laugh. But in spite of its jovial ring, its familiarity stung. “PAH! No, Onsakin. I would be a very small orc indeed. They would have left me out in the cold as a child.” She rubbed her hands over her top of her cane. “His father was tall. Not so tall as your brother. But tall for a goblin.” She gave a toothy smile, sounding distant in memories for a moment. “And very handsome.”

“Apologies, Your Grace,” I interrupted before my sister could launch any more questions, “I am certain you came to see your son again. We will not keep you longer; I know you get tired easily-.”

“PAH!” She smacked my leg with her cane, just hard enough for me to jerk in surprise. Morgana giggled. “Do not tell me what I am to do, mo shibaba. I came to see you.”

“You came to see Niko?” My sister asked, bouncing on her toes a little.

One slender eyebrow raised at her nickname for me. But then she gave a small nod. “Yes.” She tilted her head back to the side. “He does not sleep. He does not eat. That blasted fool Damjan is worried, as is Hibik. As is Seoc, and Paye. And all the other lives you have touched since you first came here. They whisper of you in the halls.” She nodded again. “It has reached my ears.”

I stiffened again, feeling a slight flush at my collar at her implications. “I can assure you, Your Grace, I-”

I jumped onto one leg with a soft shout as her cane came out to whack me again. “Ina Morag, abhama! PAH! I have told you this.” Her scarlet eyes became hard. “You need to sleep, apawi shiba mo. To eat. You cannot wither here.”

“You can come with me, Niko,” Morgana put in, tugging on my hand lightly, “We can go to the gardens, then you can take a nap in the sun, and Safa and I can make you a picnic. It will make you feel much better!”

I glanced at both of them. Then over their heads at the door to Grier’s bedchambers. It felt like it loomed. A hollow shadow, and staring at it made the edges of my eyes tingle. I swore it shifted and warped as I watched, and I adjusted my tongue in my mouth. I realized belatedly that the two were talking still, and blinked stupidly at them. Trying to sort through what they were saying. It seemed to be some sort of plan for me; getting a bath, some fresh clothes. A shave. Morgana insisted I would sleep better out in the gardens, but was persuaded by Morag that could be saved for another day. Their banter was light hearted and quick; a stark contrast to the slow thrum of my own mind. I heard their words distantly, my mind wandering back to the dark room beyond the door...

“... I’m fine where I am, though I thank you both for your concern.”

The pair fell silent at my flat and formal words, spoken in the middle of some exchange I hadn’t fully comprehended nor bothered to register. I felt Morgana tug at my hand again, and looked down at her belatedly. Realizing she had done so more than once already. Her hazel eyes were wide, and her little bottom lip quivered. She stomped her foot softly.

“You’re my brother, Niko! I’m tired of sharing you!”

Had I been able to feel any part of my body at that moment, rather than feeling like a head detached and floating around, I might have winced at her words. Instead, I managed to find some command of my palm, bringing it up to cup her cheek gently. I tried a dozen words in my mind, tossing each aside almost as soon as they occurred to me. I thought to tell her that I wanted nothing more than to go to the gardens with her. Or have her tell me another story. To do anything and everything to make her happy... I thought to try to explain that the thought of leaving his room for more than a few minutes made me feel like I was falling apart. And had I been given the choice, I would’ve traded places with Grier in an instant. He would have managed all this much better than I…

“Pah!” Exclaimed the Dowager Queen, tapping her cane against the floor. “We’d best leave this one be, mo Onsakin.” She told her, and my sister glanced over her shoulder at the Queen, her pout still in place. “Sometimes it is better to wear away at stone slowly when you want to polish it...” Her scarlet eyes darted to my face. “Elsewise it might just shatter instead.”

I didn’t want to meet Morag’s eyes, as grateful as I was for her understanding. I was too afraid of the soft familiarity of them sending my heart into a deep ache again. Instead, I pushed Morgana’s hair out of her face, pulling her attention back to me.

“Why don’t you go with ina Morag for a little while?” I told her, then felt my gaze drop to the side sadly. “I-I think she’d be much better company than me right now.”

Morgana tugged on my hand again, her face starting to scrunch up. “No! I want to play with you, Niko!”

Again, when I found myself at a loss for words, uncertain how to calm my sister’s growing agitation, it was Queen Morag who came to my rescue.

“Tch, child!” She scoffed, and Morgana looked over her shoulder at her again, her nose all pinched. “The boy is sick too, can’t you tell?” She tilted her head to the side, making her many glittering bobbles jingle and clink. “Don’t you think if he could, your brother would like nothing more than to be with you?”

That gave Morgana pause, and she looked me over almost curiously. “You’re sick too, Niko??”

I started to shake my head, but made a soft exclamation of surprise instead as Morag’s cane smacked my calf. My sister’s face twitched out of her irritation slightly at the sound.

“Of course, Onsakin!” She declared. “Your ibu is sante’fet. He cannot be anything else while his manwe is unwell.”

Morgana considered her, taking in the strange words she spoke with a thoughtful ear. “... He can’t?” She hesitated, then looked sidelong up at me. “... What does all that mean? Is that some weird grownup thing?”

“Your Grace, I-”

“INA MORAG, suit abhama!” She snapped at me, as did her cane, and I yelped again. This made Morgana giggle once more. The former Queen turned to my sister, nodding her head conspiratorially. “Come, Onsakin. I will tell you more. I know a great many secrets, you know.” She gave me a very similar sidelong look as my sister’s, and my brows shot up slightly at the sight. “More than this abhama, I am certain.”

I saw the curiosity in my sister’s matching hazel eyes and she squeezed my hand indecisively as the Queen started to make her way out of the foyer. At the main door, the old goblin paused, looking back before giving a jerk of her head to further entice Morgana.

“... Ok Niko… Maybe we can play later…” She told me after a moment. She tugged my hand, and I obediently dropped down to her so she could give me a hug. “... Feel better soon. I’ll come back to check on you and I’ll bring you those flowers.”

“Thank you, Chickadee.” I replied softly, returning her hug gently.

It was all I could manage. Not even a proper goodbye, or gratitude to the Dowager Queen for soothing my sister and entertaining her when I couldn’t even manage any semblance of a smile. I lingered where they had left me, having accidentally gotten trapped in the red glimmer of Morag’s eyes as she left. And feeling as if my heart was ripped from my chest at the almost familiar sight.

Slowly, I straightened, making my way sluggishly back to the King’s bedchambers. I dismissed Hibik distractedly. He said something to me, but I didn’t hear it. Didn’t hear anything but the sound of something in my chest cracking as I settled back into the armchair beside the bed.

I stared at the ground between my feet for a long time. When I had finally built enough courage to look over at the sleeping goblin in the bed beside me, I instantly found it shattered back to pieces as soon as I laid eyes on his quivering, sweaty form. Half buried amid oversized and overstuffed blankets and pillows. Shuddering and shivering with each breath. My eyes burned, but I stubbornly pushed that aside. Desperate to return to a statue, and feeling like I was trying to stick each piece of my walls together with sand.

The memory of his mouth came unbidden to my mind as I stared, my eyes drifting around his face. I remember the last time I had felt his against mine… A sloppy morning kiss, almost three days ago now… I felt a heavy weight inside me as I suddenly feared that was the last kiss we would ever share… Not even a proper kiss. One I had been too shy to return...

That anguish heavy on my heart, I stood, stubbornly, then bent over the bed. Reaching out with faltering fingers to skim along his jaw. I pushed back his damp hair, saw his eyes flicker beneath his lids as I leaned down...

It was like kissing stone, and as soon as I lightly pressed our lips together I regretted it. Regretted that this was now the memory etched into me. Not his warmth. Not the taste of his smile. Just something clammy and still... I fell into the armchair, dropping my face into my palms. It was too much… I couldn’t… I shivered, then swallowed hard. Trying to steady myself. Trying to push away the fear that maybe… maybe he wouldn’t get better after all… and the fear of realizing exactly why that thought hurt me quite as much as it did...

....

I stirred at some point, dragging from the listlessness of sleep. Pulling my head out of the realm of dreams and floating back down to my corporeal form sitting in the armchair like a feather falling onto the still surface of a pond. For a long moment, I forgot where I was. I didn’t remember falling asleep. Perhaps at some point the numbness had simply dragged me from my consciousness, but I didn’t know when that had been. My eyes blinked, adjusting magically to the dark of the room. I wasn’t sure how I could tell; perhaps it was the strange heaviness of the air. Or some quality of its stillness. But I knew it was late.

The ragged breath of the King sent a shiver down my spine, and I looked over at him in the bed beside my chair. I sighed quietly, rubbing a hand at my face. My limbs were weighed down by unseen lead chains, and struggled to pull air into my lungs. When my hand finally dropped, I started slightly as I found a pair of bright red eyes now watching me. I recovered, straightening myself.

Y-you’re awake...” My voice barely above a whisper as if to preserve the stillness blanketing us. Depending on what day it was now, it had nearly three days now since he had last opened his eyes. “... How are you feeling?”

“Sore.” He mumbled, then blinked a few times sluggishly. “Heavy… Waterlogged.” A soft, petering sigh, then his eyes flicked back to me. “... Have you been there this whole time? How long has it been?”

I cleared my throat quietly, shifting. Casting my gaze away from him. “I-I just… I wanted... ” I swallowed hard, thumbing my palm. “I-I couldn’t sleep anyway.”

“... Nikostratus,” He breathed my name like the first lungful of cold air after a warm cabin, and I jerked at the sound, “... I need you to promise me something.”

I was already shaking my head before he finished. “No.”

“Nikost-”

“Don’t.” I snapped, a little harsher perhaps then I intended. My eyes jumped to his, and I shook my head again before dropping them away once more. “I-if you start trying to… t-to…” I pressed my thumb into my palm until it stung. “... Don’t start talking like… like you’re not going to get better.”

He drew in a deep, wheezing breath. “...I might not-”

“Don’t.” I said, a little louder now.

“I don’t want to ask this of you.” His voice sounded pained, and not just from the effort it took for him to draw in each breath. “Gods know… you’ve had enough weight dropped on your shoulders… but I need to… I need to think of my Kingdom too…”

I shook my head once more. “I-I’m not a goblin… I’m not a King-”

“You are the most honorable and trustworthy man I know.” He wheezed, and his hand came out towards me. “...But in the end it’s your decision. I won’t demand it of you…I won’t even ask it of you... just promise me you’ll make sure my people… our people, are taken care of.”

“I’ll promise you nothing.” I almost growled, my voice harsh. “Because then everything would be settled and taken care of and-” I stopped short, my words choking me. “And you…. Y-you…”

“My young Prince,” He murmured weakly, both hands reaching for me now, “My sweet Prince… come here… please… I don’t have the strength to charm you into my arms,” a small, wry grin flicked at the corners of his lips, “So I suppose I’ll just have to swallow my pride and beg.”

I didn’t have the will to deny his request, nor did any small part of me even want to try. I crumpled forward, dropping heavily out of the chair to my knees beside the bed. His hands cupped my face, tracing along it weakly. I shivered beneath his touch, squeezing my eyes shut. With the feeblest of tugs, he pulled at me and I obediently sank down to him, letting him wrap his arms around my neck. Letting him bury me in his chest as I bent over him. Drawing in the scent of his sweat slicked body and feeling his ragged breath on the top of my head. I brought one hand up, hooking on his arm as if to free myself. But it fluttered and lingered there instead.

“Y-you can’t do this to me…” I gasped against him suddenly, feeling my eyes start to burn as a sharp heat bubbled in my chest, “You can’t… you can’t leave me now… I can’t…”

“... You’ll be alright.” He told me softly. “You’re clever, and strong-”

“I don’t want to be strong!” I snapped. “I’m tired of being strong!” My hands grabbed at his shoulders roughly, tugging him a little closer. My grip faltered and fluttered as I remembered the state of him, and I gave a shuddering breath. Burying myself deeper into his embrace. “I-I… I can’t… I can’t do this again…”

His arms tightened around me, and I heard his breath shudder against my ear. His hand came to the back of my head, and I felt him stroking it weakly. So softly I thought I might shatter. My heart threatened to do the same.

“I… I have so much left I want to tell you… but … there’s one thing I need to tell you… one you deserve to know.” He murmured softly. “... I need to tell you how… how I found you…”

I would have drawn back to look at him, but suddenly felt as weak as he was. So I laid limply in his arms. Listening to the ragged air pass through his lungs.

“A few years back... There was a young man… barely in his twenties if even that…” He explained in his thin and wheezing voice, “... He was badly wounded when we found him at the border… delirious… Half-dead already… The soldiers there did what they could for him, but he was… he was saying something they thought might be of import.” He took a deep, steadying breath. “They sent him to me.”

“... What was he saying?”

“He told us…” I felt his hesitation, and a strange weightless dread spreading through me at his reluctance. “He told us… he had loved a Prince…” I stiffened sharply, every muscle in my body becoming steel. “...And that for that crime… he had paid with his life.”

I jerked away from him, sitting up on my knees. My heart racing, my head pounding. I stared down at Grier, slack jawed and dumbstruck.

“... I should have told you sooner. But I… I don’t know who he was to you. I-if he was anyone...” He stammered feebly. “And for the longest time, we thought he was just… just delirious. He never said his name, or anything else for that matter. Nor did we know what Prince he was talking about… We didn’t know where he was from… or how he had gotten there…”

I was lost in my memories for a long moment. Lost in dark hair and bright eyes. Soft skin and a wiry frame. And pain. So much pain I thought I might shatter from it. My walls started to raise, my shoulders stiffened. Seeking to defend my heart from that fate. I fought through the numbness that nearly overwhelmed me. Something about what he said was nagging me though. Snapping at the edges of my mind. Poking holes in the walls I tried to build. I blinked a few times, trying to steady myself. Trying to sort through my emotions and come back to just the words. I wondered if the click was as audible as it felt when the pieces fell into place.

“... Half-dead?” I breathed. “Y-you said he was wounded? Half-dead?” I shook my head. “N-no, that can’t be right… It couldn’t have been him… It wasn’t him… You found someone else.”

“Nikostratus… I-I’m so sorry-”

“He died?” I cut him off abruptly, my voice thin as it pressed through the tiny opening that was left of my throat. “... Did… Did he suffer?”

Grier’s hand came to mine on the bed, and he shook his head weakly. “We couldn’t save him… but he didn’t suffer. We made sure of that.”

Just like that, the walls I had been trying to build imploded. Crumbling into hundreds of pieces around my heart. Without their protection, the emotions slammed into me. I stared down at our hands numbly for a long time. My heart ached, my head throbbed. There was an extended silence, while I tried to process everything suddenly hitting me full force. While I tried to pull the knife from my chest just enough to pull in a breath. It was too heavy. All of it. I couldn’t hold it... I felt my lips working to release the pressure; tasted the sound of my words even though I had not willed them forth.

“... I thought I was...” I told him, my voice whisperingly soft, “I-I thought… H-he was… He was my second… on the frontline…” I shifted, still kneeling beside the bed and staring at his hand on mine. “H-he… he was k-kind… and sweet… and s-soft…” My voice broke and I started to shake. “He… W-we drank too much… we forgot where… w-where we were… just for one night... it was just one night… and… and I… I-I forgot… I forgot who I was…”

“... Nikostratus…”

I squeezed his hand, then clamped my eyes so tightly shut I was seeing sparks behind my lids. “I-I thought I had… I th-thought he would… but… b-but he came back again…” I choked on a sad laugh. “He tried to come back w-when he knew we could… wh-when he thought we could be alone again… b-but… but…” I took a shuddering breath, unable to stop my confession. “They... th-they thought he was trying to… to leave... T-to desert… they-they caught him in the larder… they brought him to me ‘red handed’... t-to pass judgement...” I pulled my hand back, despite his attempt to catch it as I fled. He was too weak to pin me there, and his touch burned my shame deeper into me. But I met his eyes, my own rimmed with a redness to match his irises. “Th-the punishment for desertion i-is… is death-” I choked again, and shook my head fervently.

“... What happened?”

“I-I… I couldn’t... “ My lips were shaking so hard, the words refused to form properly on them. “I-I couldn’t tell… I couldn’t t-tell them… I let… so I let them…” I shook my head again. “Bread, Grier! H-he was just getting extra bread for us… f-for me… He was sweet… He was … so naïve… so hopeful… he… h-he was… and… a-and they wanted me to… t-to… to… they expected me to...” I closed my eyes again, and felt the tears drip down the corners. “I-I was t-too… too ashamed… I was t-too weak to… to tell them… to explain…”

“It’s alright,” He murmured, and reached to pull me down again, “It’s not your fault.”

I jerked away from his touch. “I-I couldn’t… I had to… I should have… I know I… b-but… I couldn’t… I-I… I was... afraid… I was… I was s-so… I was so afraid...” I looked away from him, resting my elbows on the mattress and burying my face in my palms. “B-but… but I couldn’t let them… let them...“

“What happened next?” He pressed softly.

“I-I… I made a Royal Decree…” I gushed, “R-right then and there… I-I looked at him… I met his eyes… and… a-and I pretended I didn’t… I-I didn’t…” Again I choked, but shook my head, forcing the words out. “... I-I changed the law… and I banished him… o-on penalty of death, should he ever return… The fate for all deserters… f-from that day on…”

“... You saved him.”

“I betrayed him!” I gasped. “I-I looked him right in the eye, and… and when he needed me most… I pretended h-he was… he was n-nothing to me…” I dropped my head to the mattress, squeezing the back of my head with my hands. “The King was fur-furious that I had changed the law… and Gareth…” The name hitched in my throat. “... He knew… I could see it… in-in his eyes… He knew the truth…” I turned my head, so that I could look at him, even though my eyes were still damp and my throat still burned. “A-and now... And now you want me to… t-to…”

Grier’s hand came out, and he cupped it weakly against my jaw. “It’s not your fault-”

“H-how is it not?” I cut him off again, my words slurred and broken. “He had a family, He… He cared about me… he trusted me and I… and I-I…” I dropped a hand on top of his at my cheek. “And now you… y-you’re sick because of me… you’re sick because you tried to do something nice for me… A-and because… Because I let myself be... B-because I started to believe…”

“It’s not your fault.” He wheezed, and his fingers curled feebly around my jaw. Catching behind my ear. “Whatever happens, it’s not your fault. You deserve to be happy, Nikostratus.”

His hand tugged at me gently. I quivered, but let him pull me into his arms again. His palm slowly stroked at the back of my head. I slipped my own hands up, gripping his shoulders. I trembled beneath his touch, the feel of his hot fingers weakly tracing along the curve of my skull. The irony was not lost on me; that a man who may very well be on his deathbed was comforting me. It should be the other way around. I should not be pitching him my sorrow. I should be making this easier for him. I should be caring for him; I had spent my life putting others before myself, why couldn’t I now? Why was this time so different? So hard? I laid my cheek against his bare chest, feeling his damp skin against my face. My eyes pinched shut as they filled, burning as my throat closed up. A dark shadow loomed over me, enveloping my body in a hollow, unrequited misery. I felt his arms slowly wind further around me as the first tears dribbled down my cheeks and pooled on his chest. I tried to hold still, tried not to let my shoulders quake with the weight of my grief and guilt… I failed. And sobbed quietly against him.

“It’s alright… You’re safe here… It’ll be ok…” He murmured, and I buried my face deeper into his chest. Shaking my head. He stilled me with a soft ‘shhhh’. “I love you, Nikostratus. Nothing else matters but that.”

“Loving me is a curse.” I tried to pull back, but relented as his arms tightened, even weak as they were. “I should never have… I-I can’t…”

“If loving you is a curse, then it is one I will happily bear.” He breathed against the top of my head. “If loving you is a poison, I will drink every last drop, and writhe in agony for weeks. For years. Just to know this feeling for an hour.” He ran his thumb against my ear, and a shiver ran down my spine. “If your love is a dagger, I will plunge it deep into my chest until I can feel it in my heart. I don’t care what loving you is. Because it is mine. You are mine.”

“I-I’m not… Y-you can’t…”

“It’s worth it, Nikostratus. It’s worth every second. Having you here, with me…” His hot palm cupped my jaw. Running his thumb across the damp trail on my cheek. “Loving you… it is the best part of my life.”

I let him run his hands over my face and shoulders for a time. Feeling myself beginning to still once more. I felt empty, and hollow. A shell of my former self. I ran my own hand slowly over his shoulder. Numbly feeling the heat wafting off him and trying to push away what that meant.

“Y-you… I c-can’t… I can’t say… I won’t...” I tried to steady myself, breathing quietly for a time. “… I never got to say goodbye to him…” I murmured after a long while. “I-I always hoped he was… alive somewhere… happy, maybe…”

“... What was his name?”

I choked on my tears, shuddering slightly. “... Josep. His name was Josep Wolod… He was… he was 19…”

“And you?”

“... Maybe 22? I-I… I don’t remember.”

“You were both young.” His arms flexed weakly around me. “... You’re still young. They should never have…” I felt his swallow move through his throat and chest beneath my ear. “That you should be asked to condemn a boy to death...”

“I couldn’t do it… I never could…” I shivered again. “I-I banished him, b-but he was unharmed when… when…” My eyes widened even more, and the blood rushed from my face. I didn’t answer for several long, uneasy breaths.

“When what?” He coaxed.

“When… when I had Gareth escort him to the border…”

I felt him draw in as deep a breath as he was able, and his arms wrapped as far around me as they would go. “If I ever see that man again, I will kill him.”

The hate in his voice was unfamiliar to me, and felt as foreign as the raspiness in his chest. I stayed still for a long moment, letting the tears trickle down my cheeks. Forgotten trails of my sorrow for memories I had tried to bury. For a grief I had never let myself feel. I blinked slowly, giving a soft sniffle. Then gently pulled myself free.

“I’m sorry-”

“Don’t.” He rasped, fumbling for my hand. “Don’t apologize. Please, my young Prince... It’s not your fault.”

I wondered how much he would have to say that for me to ever have a hope of believing it. My chest ached dully at his words, and I closed my eyes for a moment to steady myself. Feeling raw and unnerved.

“I-I... I’ve kept you up too long… you need your rest.”

“I need only you.”

“Grier…”

“...Lay with me awhile?” He murmured, his eyes starting to blink languidly.

I was already shaking my head. “I-I shouldn’t… you need to sleep.”

“I sleep better… when you’re with me…” He replied, but let me gently lift his hand to place on his chest once more. I watched his scarlet eyes slowly work their way sluggishly up my body as I stood, until they met my gaze. “... You see it right? You understand it now?”

“... Get some rest.”

“No.” He grumbled, then slowly started to slide up onto his elbows. Weakly trying to prop himself up.

“Wh-what are you-”

“Lay with me.” He gasped, even as his arms shook beneath him. “I… I want to…” A pained look filled his eyes. “... I need to be near you...” I lurched forward, catching him before he collapsed from exhaustion. “I… I want to know you’re safe… I can’t sleep if...”

Slowly, I lowered him back into the pillows, my arms gently tucked around him. His long fingered hand came up, and he weakly skimmed it along my jaw. Wiping away the tear stains lingering there. My brow was tight, and I felt a powerful, painful throb in my chest at his touch. I caught his hand in mine, hesitating briefly. Then I pressed it against my cheek with the strength he lacked. I saw him smile, one so fragile I thought my breath might shatter it. I squeezed my eyes shut to dam the fresh pain that welled in them. I turned into his palm, even daring to place a gentle kiss in its center.

“Please?” He begged, his voice weak. “Lay with me?”

I couldn’t hide my wince at the fear in his voice. I kissed his palm again, then gently brushed his knuckles against my lips. Slowly, I opened my eyes, looking down at him. After another moment, I nodded, and his face flushed with relief.

“Only if you promise to sleep if I do.” I warned.

He agreed sluggishly, and I removed my boots and vest, then carefully crawled in behind him. The goblin quickly turned, tucking himself into my chest. It was like holding a small fire to myself, and I struggled not to flinch against him. I felt him sigh, felt him relax deeper into my chest. I hesitated before I dared wrap my arms around him. As carefully as if he might break into a thousand pieces. My heart thudded so loudly I worried it would keep him awake.

“... Do you see now?” He asked me groggily, his breath hot on the nape of my neck.

“Shhh.” I told him gently, bringing my hand to the back of his head. “You promised you’d sleep.”

A soft mumble of something incoherent escaped his thin lips. “... But-”

“Shhhhhh.” I hesitated, then carefully stroked my hand along his damp hair. “... I’m not going anywhere… Sleep now.”

.....

I woke to a quiet knock at the door, somehow having managed to fall into a sleep plagued with nightmares. I shifted, then looked down to find the goblin still tucked in my arms. His breathing was shallow and raspy, but rhythmic, and his eyes were closed. Another soft knock had me carefully slipping from his grip. Sliding to the edge of the bed to clamber quietly to my feet. His fever had retaken him, and he did not stir at my movement. I blinked away the last of my pain, wiping my face down with one heavy hand in case any lingered there. Gods, I felt so drained and tired...

I didn’t bother to don my boots or vest, adjusting my tunic and heading to the main door. Hibik and Seoc stood there, quiet sorrow listing in the corners of their eyes. I nodded to them, briefly wondering at what sight had greeted them in my own eyes, but feeling far too hollow to care.

“Your Highness,” Hibik dipped his head, “Apologies, but there is… a visitor. From the human court.”

I blinked at him stupidly, forgetting myself for a moment. “Who?”

They exchanged a glance. “... Sir Gareth, I believe is his name. He has asked to see you and the King.”

I must have looked… strange to them, based upon their reaction. It was as though he had heard us speaking of him… had heard my confession… Though I realized now I couldn’t even be sure how long it had been. Hours? Days? Logically, I knew the timing made sense. I could suspect his reasons for being here, nearly a week since we had left the castle I had grown up in. Yet I couldn’t help the anger that bit at me at the sound of his name. The goblins exchanged another look as I stiffened. Straightening my back. A small scowl formed on my lips, and I saw them latch onto that emotion amid the stone of the rest of my face.

“...Send him away.” I told them coldly. “I do not wish to speak to him.”

Another bow. “I would, of course, Your Highness,” Hibik murmured reverently, “But he insists he is here on official business.” He shifted nervously. “I can still have the guard escort him out, if that is your wish.”

I stared at him for a long moment. Trying to think amid the swirl of emotions that threatened to rip my chest open. After a long moment, I stepped back, pulling the door open and heading back to the bed chamber for my boots and vest.

“Your Highness,” Seoc bounded after me, and when I turned to face him, I found a fresh tunic, vest, and coat in his arms.

“Thank you, Seoc.” I told him appreciatively, though my voice tasted numb in my mouth.

I didn’t bother for modesty, hardly caring anymore, and stripped my old tunic before them to pull on the new. Seoc scurried for my brush as I did up the buttons on the vest and pulled on the coat. He quickly polished the toes of my boots as I scrubbed at my hair for a moment. I moved without thought, my actions those of someone else. As I passed the brush back to Seoc, my eyes lingered on the distant shape of the bed in the bedchambers beyond. My heart ached, and I felt the corners of my mask slip momentarily.

“... Stay with him.” I ordered Hibik. “Fetch me immediately if…” If anything changes. I finished silently, but didn’t dare to voice. If he wakes... Or makes a turn for the worse.

Hibik nodded solemnly, straightening slowly under the responsibility and trust I laid upon him. I turned and followed Seoc out into the hall. Down through the castle. To the main throne room.

I recognized it as soon as I entered, and looked about in a dreamlike daze. Had it really only been a month since the first time I had walked through those doors? I moved slowly over to the dais, standing at the foot of it. I stared at the pillows. The piles of gems and coins still strewn about. At the towering carved stone pillars. I remembered the first time I had stood there. Looking up at Grier, his face full of mischievous smiles and composed of a powerful air of command. I had been scared then, I knew now. He had terrified me. He had looked properly monstrous, the creature of nightmares we warned our children about. I remembered the room darker, more sinister. But now I saw the same braziers were lit as they had been then, and the entire hall was bathed in a warm glow. It was mostly stone, yes, but with the splashes of color the goblins were notorious for. And empty. There were no guards lining the chamber, though I knew they were likely just beyond the door. There were no attendants, no members of Court. I stood alone, returning to that seemingly ancient memory. I half expected to find cobwebs, the place felt so old to me. But it felt... familiar too. More comfortable than any room of my old castle...

There was a great creak as the main door opened, and I glanced over to watch Gareth be let into the chamber. A hot poker stabbed at the base of my spine, spewing its heat through my core. I squared my shoulders, waiting quietly as he approached. My mask already perfectly in place. Knowing the man I had once called ‘friend’ would not see more than a stone Prince before him.

He dipped into a bow, one tight with constraint. He looked older than I remembered. His face gaunt, his hair greying at the tips. There was an unkept scruff on his neck, and his shirt was ever so slightly askew. I eyed it disdainfully as he slowly raised.

“Your Highness,” He intoned, “Thank you for seeing me.” I watched his eyes dart about quickly before returning to me. “Shall we wait for His Majesty here, or are you to escort me to him?”

“Speak your business and be gone, Sir Gareth.” I told him coldly, ignoring his question.

Eyes flicked at that, and I saw his scowl at the edges of his lips. But he dipped his head respectfully none-the-less. “... I have come to fetch the Princess, Your Highness.”

Ice would have been warmer than the blood pulsing through me at that moment. “On whose authority?”

Another dip of his head. “By request of Crown Prince Valerianus.” He informed me. “He sends word. It is safe for her to return now. I am to bring her home.”

My jaw tightened, and I looked him over. My glare was biting, and I stared at him for so long in silence that he shifted. Moved weight from one wide foot to the other. I saw his hand rest instinctively on the hilt of his sword. My eyes narrowed. I knew this man. I knew this man better than he knew himself. I knew every twitch of his face, every short coming of his mask. I knew his mannerisms, his ticks. And now, I knew his thoughts, even as he sought to hide them from me.

“Do you think me a fool?” I asked him tonelessly.

His eyes flicked a little wider. “Y-Your Highness-”

“You are lying, Sir Gareth.” I neatly tucked my hands behind my back, squaring off with him. “Prince Valerianus would have sent word ahead. He would have sent a full royal escort for her. Not a single disheveled guard.”

“I can assure you,” He quickly returned, deciding to stick to his lie, “I am here on his Royal Highness’ authority.” I saw him work his jaw briefly before adding. “Would you incite a war? Keeping our Princess from us?”

“Take heed how you use your tongue, Sir Gareth,” I replied coldly, not taking his feeble attempt at bait, “Or I shall have it removed from your mouth.”

His eyes widened slightly at that, and he even fell back a step. But then he shook his head stubbornly. “I am here for-”

“You are here for yourself.” I interrupted, snapping back at him so sharply he recoiled from my words. “You were not sent by my brother. And if you were sent by the King I care naught.” I did not break my glare. “The Princess Morgana is staying with me.”

The color of his face began to shift as his anger boiled up in him. “You would deny a direct order from the King?? Your true King?”

“He has no authority here.” I replied. “And as he has disowned me as his son, he certainly has none over me.” I looked the old guard up and down. “If this was your feeble attempt to regain your favor with him, then you may return a continued failure and disappointment. Be gone from my sight, before I have you forcibly removed from it.”

Gareth changed tactics. “... Let me see her,” He said softly, “Let me see her, and tell her I miss her. Let me-”

“No.”

“Nikostratus, please-”

“You will not refer to me in such familiar terms,” My voice did not raise much in volume, but the authority in it made it sound as though it had, “I am Prince Nikostratus to you. And soon I will be King. You will afford me the respect due to my position and title. I will not warn you again.”

His eyes flashed red, and his scowl broke over his lips. “A King who lays beneath a King.” He spat disgustedly. “A lecherous pet for a foul beast.”

I barely kept my own anger from bubbling over, though my jaw clenched. “Get. Out.” I ordered through clenched teeth. “Now.”

“You were a good Prince!” He cried, his face still contorted in a mixture of rage and repulsion. “You were obedient, and respectable, you were-” He stopped himself, shaking his head. He returned the step he had lost, and took another closer. “These creatures have corrupted you,” He explained, his eyes bitter, “Please, Prince Nikostratus, if you ever cared for your Kingdom, if you ever once thought me a friend… we served together. We fought side by side-”

“Like Josep?” I snapped. His name felt like fire on my tongue.

Gareth froze, his eyes going wide before he could catch himself. I was nearly trembling with rage. My hands came to my sides, balled into fists so tight the knuckles were nearly white. I could see him thinking. Trying to ascertain what I knew. How I knew. I saw him glance about suspiciously, as if the answer lay in the shadows around us. The old guard slowly straightened, his features cold.

“... I did what I had to. To protect you.”

“To protect me from what, exactly??” I snarled, rage crackling through me. “Being myself? Being happy? Having any emotions at all??!” My voice was raising octave by octave now, and my brow furrowed heavily as heat coursed through my veins.

“Prince Nikostratus, you forget yourself,” He dared scold, “Remember your temper-”

“MY ANGER IS JUSTIFIED WHEN YOU MURDER A BOY IN COLD BLOOD JUST FOR BEING IN LOVE!” I roared, my voice thundering through the vast stone chamber. “And if you think that is a crime worthy of death, then you should have killed me too!”

I saw his hand move. I heard the snarl of his anger, saw the hate in his eyes. He stepped forward, and there was a SHIIIINK that echoed loudly around the chamber as he drew his sword. At the same time, I heard the slam of the wooden door as it was flung open and the guards charged in at the sound of my voice. But the rest was a blur. It was a blur as I stepped to the side. It was a blur as I dropped down, and drove my shoulder up. It was a blur as my hand swept out at the same time as my foot swept in. It was a blur as I twisted the lunging sword from his grasp and deftly spun it in my hand.

The next thing I knew, I was standing over him, the tip of his blade levied at his throat. His eyes were wide with fear and shock as he looked up at me from the ground where I had laid him low. The clanking of armor filled the room as the guard surrounded us, their own weapons drawn. Damjan was at my shoulder, his eyes dark with malice. Gareth’s own eyes darted about in a panic, a cold sweat breaking across his brow. His mouth fell open, and I saw him shake in fear.

“Y-Your Highness, please, I beg of you-”

“Gareth of Geriveria, for your crimes against King and Crown,” I saw him wince as I began, and pressed the blade in a little tighter, “... I banish you. On penalty of death, should you ever dare set foot in my Kingdom again... And should I ever have the misfortune of seeing you again,” I met his gaze with a steadfast rage and confidence, “I shall take your head myself.”

I tossed the sword to the side, and the guards swarmed in. Grabbing the old guard and hauling him to his feet. Beginning to drag him off at spear and sword point.

“Your Highness, please!” He cried over their shoulders, “Your father lies on his deathbed! He only wishes to see his child; the sickness has-”

“If that is true, then he has only his own stubborn pride to blame.” I shot back, unfazed, and did not budge from my spot until the man was dragged away.

Damjan shook his head at my shoulder, his face contorted in outrage. “Your Highness, if-”

“Make sure he is brought to the border unharmed, General,” I interrupted, and glanced over at him stiffly, “Escort him all the way to the capital if necessary. I would not have him made a martyr, or start another war for his sorry hide.”

That stopped whatever he had been about to say, and his brows shot up. Then he grinned eagerly, and bowed. “Once again, Your Highness, you prove wise beyond your years.” He replied reverently. “I shall be sure it is done.” He tilted his head to the side slightly as he rose. “Though I do hope the bastard is stupid enough to attempt to return.” He mused as he turned to march out after his guard. “I would like to put his ugly head on a pike myself.”

“...General,” I called after him, and the taller man paused, glancing back at me, “If what he said is true, about King Tibertius... I want to know.”

Damjan’s face grew stern, and he nodded. “As you wish, Your Highness.”

I felt my stamina quickly fading as Seoc bounded over, looking me over worriedly. I waved away his concern. “Bring me back to the King.” I told him. “And send word to my brother.” I continued as I followed him out the side door. “Let him know of the banishment. I have a feeling he shall issue one of his own in turn when he hears of the circumstances.”

A few moments later, my attendant bobbed and bowed. Wishing me a grateful farewell before darting off to do my bidding. I opened the main door, and at the sound, I heard Hibik raise from the seat in the chamber beyond. I met him in the foyer, already unbuttoning my jacket to slip it from my shoulders along with whatever of my strength remained.

“... How is he?” I asked softly, my previous rage draining from me so suddenly I felt light headed.

Hibik shook his head sadly. “I-I am afraid his fever seems to have returned in full force…” He glanced over his shoulder. “I can send for the Master Healer, but I am not sure-”

“There is no need.” I interrupted, slowly undoing the buttons on my sleeves to roll them up. “... I’ll take care of him.”

The goblin shifted from foot to foot, glancing over his shoulder again. “Your Highness, please, I beg of you to consider your own health and get some proper rest…”

I shook my head, then hesitated, looking off at some distant, unseen point beyond the floor at my feet. “... I thank you for your concern, Lord Hibik. But I will be fine. Though, I am most grateful to you for watching over him while I dealt with other matters.”

Hibik bowed deeply, murmuring his own soft platitudes, if hesitantly. Then turned to slowly take his leave. My eyes drifted to the end table, where the parchment still sat, a quill at its side. I sucked in a tight breath, and found myself moving as if through molasses, my feet carrying me over to it of their own accord.

“... Lord Hibik…”

I heard him pause at the door, saw him turn out the corner of my eye. But I was in a cloud of my own making as I slowly made my way over to the table. I couldn’t even feel the quill between my fingers. Couldn’t see the page even as I dipped the tip in ink and hovered it over the parchment. I hesitated, staring for a long, quiet moment. Then slowly… carefully… I signed my name beside Grier’s.

The goblin quietly came up beside me as I straightened. Gently taking the quill from my frozen hand, and easing the license delicately from the table. I watched numbly, then turned my gaze away. Unable to reconcile myself with what I had just done, and feeling a heavy weight on my heart for having done so.

“... It seems in poor taste to offer you congratulations, My Prince,” Hibik breathed softly, somberly, “But I will offer you my thanks… and my sincere hope that this remains only as an unneeded precaution…”

I nodded, still not looking at anything on this plane of existence in particular. I was already moving before he turned to make his way to the door, but heard it click closed behind him before I had made it into the bedchambers. I closed that door as well, slipping off my boots and lining them up neatly with the numerous other pairs of his where I had set them. I eased off my vest, folding that and tucking it neatly on the bureau, alongside his own vibrantly colored tops. I trailed my fingers over them as I untucked my tunic from my trousers, letting it flow long and loose. I made my way over to the bed, my feet heavy, my heart dragging behind me. Quietly, I climbed in, crawling up to his side and resting my back against the headboard. As if sensing me there, the King shifted, rolling sluggishly. I carefully lifted him, laying him across my stomach. His skin was so hot it was still uncomfortable to touch, but I let him slide his arms slowly around me anyways.

I reached for the cool cloth, dipping it in water and brushing it across his bare, sweaty back. He shivered against me, and a lung quaking cough erupted from him. I pulled his hair into a soft plait, carefully laying it over the pillows instead of his shoulders, pushing it out of his face. He sighed, settling against my torso. Still in the fits of his fever induced sleep. Slowly I stroked the cloth back and forth over his skin, my eyes burning.

I sniffled softly, then cleared my throat. “... W-we’re married now, Grier…” I told him, my breaking voice barely above a whisper. “... I guess that makes this our wedding night…”

He didn’t answer. Didn’t even flinch at my voice. I closed my eyes, but was unable to dam the flow completely before one large fat tear rolled down my cheek.

...

UPDATE: Part Thirteen HERE

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peakascum · 4 years

Text

When in France pt 2

Part 2:

The Germans got closer. Tommy held her tighter, fingers digging into her flesh as if by some sort of miracle it could transport him to a safer place. “Do not make a sound,” he said, voice trembling with fear. The shovels kept forcing their way into your division. Everyone’s eyes darted to every inch of the tunnel dug with your hands, fearing the noise could be coming from anywhere.

“Soldiers, prepare your weapons,” she whispered, fully aware of their fate.

Tommy did not take this well, looking at her with wild eyes, begging her to stay calm. “I trained for this my whole life, if I have to die to protect each and everyone of you I will,” she reassured him.

“You fucking won’t.”

The shovels dug deeper, the sounds getting louder. Tommy’s breath tickled her ear. Each breath filled with a prayer that would be heard by no one but her.

Y/N twisted her head, eyes falling directly onto Tom’s, mouths inches apart. Time stood still for a moment. No shovels, no dirt, not darkness. They stared into each others eyes. An unexplainable love adoring their faces, painting their pale cheeks a rosy color, one they wish they could see in the sunlight, away from the dirt and the sound of cocking guns. As Y/N scanned his face, their partner, Jeremiah, whispered a song that would soon become a prayer to them all.

“In the Bleak Midwinter,”

“I promise to defend you until my dying breath,” Tommy whispered back, eyes piercing Y/N’s.

“Frosty wind made moan,”

“Do not talk like that Thomas Shelby. You will grow old and happy,” she whispered back.

“Earth stood hard as iron, water like stone;”

“Listen to me,” he took her face in his firm hands, “just stay alive, stay alive and continue fighting. One day, when all of this is over, I’ll buy you a nice house, with a garden and everything, what do you say?”

“Snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow o snow,”

“That can’t happen if you’re stupid enough to die for me Tom,” she chuckled tearily. Tears racing each other for the first time since the beginning of the war.

Just as he was about to answer the Germans busted in. Y/N whipped her head around and immediately punctured a soldier with her knife. The men spread into action. Strangling each other, stabbing each other, painting their faces crimson red. As they battled each other out, one of the men took Y/N by her long braid and dragged her into another compound. Her screams drowned by his callous hand, digging into her cheeks. As he screamed in language far too different than hers, his intents were obvious. She would serve as a trophy, a treat for the enemy to rape and ridicule. His grimy hands dug into her pants looking for anything to grasp as he held her onto the floor, when all of a sudden a voice was heard from the far corner of the tunnels.

“Stop!” Jeremiah’s words roared through the dirt filled throat that engulfed you all. The soldiers ceased their movement. Tommy’s wild eyes searched hers, immediately putting the already dead man’s body on the floor.

“Give me the girl and you can take me.”

“Jeremiah no. Soldier, stand your ground and get the fuck out!” You screamed in a desperate attempt to save them.

“Give us the girl, eh? You don’t want her. Been rotting away in these tunnels for quite some time, yeah? Damaged goods.” Tommy played along, making exaggerated gestures with his hands so the Germans could understand. They let their guard down just a tad bit so the soldier holding her lessen his grip, enough for her to fight back. In a split second she pierced his neck with her knife, blood gushing and covering her body as she cried out in disgust. The distraction enough for Tommy, Jeremiah, and Freddie to kill the remaining Germans left.

The stench of blood made Y/N’s stomach queasy and her eyes lose a shimmer of the light they always held.

“Love, come on it’s okay. Stay with me, don’t look at them.” Tommy held her face in his hands as she held onto his shoulders. Both eyes wild searching for the other, settling into what could have been. Death’s hands missed her today, as they had any other day.

“Let’s get the house. The house with the garden.” Y/N said as her grip on him tightened.

“A garden where you can grow anything you like. I’ll even buy you a gramophone, yeah?” He said in a desperate attempt to anchor her back to reality and away from the death-covered walls that enclosed around them.

After a while you started making your way out of the tunnels, your mission accomplished. Y/N’s body close to Tom’s, leaving astray a piece of her soul, but leaving with the hope of a new life.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #john shelby imagine #tommy shelby imagine #Tommy x reader #thomas shelby imagine #arthur shelby imagine #finn shelby imagine #isiah jesus imagine

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moskaisley · 4 years

Text

migraine pt. 5 | relief

gif cred: @coredrive

rating: mature

word count: 4k platinum hi def TV

warnings: angst but also some comfort bc everyone is in their feelings, violence, descriptions of fighting and blood, mentions of death

a/n:

me: yea i’ll post by 8pm!!! also me @ midnight:

i got slammed with some work from my job last minute so thats why she’s a couple hours late!! such is the life of a freelancer but thank u all for being patient anyway hehe. anyways!! i’ve had a LOT of ideas for side stories lately and i’m thinking of posting them in between the main parts of migraine so maybe look out for that???

and thank u all for your kind words on part 4!!! ily all and i hope u enjoy this one. alexa play in my feelings by drake 🥺🥺🥺

summary:

“Did you love him?”

You freeze, heart pounding loudly in your chest at the thought. You know the answer, but you’re terrified to speak it aloud, as if Mando could hear you utter it into the universe.

Where you find the strength to feel it all at once.

parts 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

ao3 link / masterlist

“I’m going on ahead.”

“Well, I’m not coming with you.”

He scrunches his nose, nostrils flaring. You refuse to look him in the eye.

“Seriously?”

You pick at the threads in the thin blanket on your legs with your nails. He’s fully dressed, standing in the doorway of your tiny dwelling. You’re still in your cot, your last chance to flee with him slipping away with every string you pull. But fear claws at your insides, paralyzing you in your spot. You hear him shuffle, kneeling beside the bed and forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Please, help me stop them,” he pleads.

Your lip quivers, tears threatening to spill over. He’s such a beautiful boy. You loved and loathed his courage; Luca was always braver than you were, fighting off bullies in the schoolyard and sneaking out after dark. He was the first one to defy the Moff when he showed up at your doorstep, and he was the quickest to arm when they came blasters ablazing. But while Luca had moved forward ready to enact his revenge, you were still stuck in front of your burning home, heat blistering against your skin and pathetic tears streaming down your face. You’re still frozen at the other end of a blaster, cowering on your knees before a man clad in black. You’re still being ushered away down the country road with your brother, two very distinct shots ringing through your ears.

But Luca doesn’t understand.

“We’ll die, just like them.”

“Don’t you want to die fighting?”

You tear a hole in your blanket.

“I don’t want to die at all, Luca.”

You haven’t spoken to him in days.

It was quite impressive, really.

Ever since your breakdown, you denied yourself any sort of contact with the Mandalorian, bitterness and hurt still raw every time you looked at him. At first, he tried to get you to respond to him, prodding with simple questions and painfully awkward small talk. But when his one-sided conversations were only met with more eerie silence, Mando took the hint and stopped trying altogether. You didn’t spend too long in the same space with him either; you made sure to work on opposite sides of the ship. Shifts were still maintained at night to watch over your camp while the other slept; but when it was his turn to take over, you only woke him with a wordless shove and quickly slipped into your bunk to get your share of rest.

Sleep never came.

Instead, you aimlessly tossed on the mattress for hours and hours on end, mind torn over the man standing outside your door. You loathed him, you were sure of it. He hurt you, more than anyone ever had. Took everything and crushed it beneath his boots. Then had the audacity to come back and ask for a favor. It was time to just let it all go; to push it far behind you and go on forward with your heart guarded and barred from the rest of the universe. To live and die alone.

So why was the thought of never seeing him again making your chest tighten with agony?

You dug your face into your pillow a few times, letting out guttural, violent screams of frustration until your voice nearly gave out.

You should be angry with him. He left, he left, he left.

Just like Luca.

In those solitary hours, you thought a lot about your brother, and how painfully similar this all felt: The resentment that festered in your bones clashing with the deep love and care that resided in your heart. You didn’t want to forgive, but living with these thorns in your side was so fucking exhausting. You wondered if the universe doomed you from birth, never destined for a moment of peace. The warring feelings within you made it impossible to sleep easy, and soon enough, the sun would come up. Mando would be outside rapping on your door and you’d start the day over again. Rinse and repeat.

By the fourth day, the lack of sleep had caught up to you.

Precariously perched on top of a ladder, you took the day to work on the repulsor grilles. Your mind was in a daze. You struggled to figure out which parts go where, and your hands were so clumsy you kept losing your tools to the small slot you’d been tinkering with. After dropping your screwdriver for what seemed to be the seventh time today, you were so fed up that any caution was thrown into the wind. Hot metal and active wires were the least of your worries as you carelessly shoved your hand down the slot for your lost tool. Your fingers grazed the handle, but as you shifted to get a better angle, you felt a burning shock shoot through your arm. You all but ripped your hand from the slot, wincing as you feel something tear at your palm. Your sudden movement was enough to drive the ladder toppling over. Squeezing your eyes shut, you braced for impact. You hear a low grunt as your body collides into Mando’s, strong arms quickly wrapping around your waist to steady you. Your cheeks grow hot at the feeling of him, and for a moment, your body pleads to stay in his arms just a little longer.

“Are you okay?” the low timbre of his voice brings you back from your panic.

You quickly push off of him but hiss at the searing pain radiating from your hand. Turning over your palm, you grimace at the big nasty gash that gushes down your forearm with blood. Mando grips your shoulder and spins you around, trying to take your injured hand.

“Let me see.”

“I’m fine.”

You recoil, holding your palm close to your chest and bleeding all over your shirt. Impatient, he goes in to grasp your wrist and wrestles with you again.

“Will you quit being difficult and hold still?” he growls, voice devoid of any softness. The edge in his voice makes you freeze. It’s the first time on this journey that he spoke so firmly with you. Too tired to fight, you let him take your hand into his and study your injury.

“Sit,” He lets go of your hand and gestures to the ground. “You’re going to need stitches. And then you’re going to rest. I know you haven’t been sleeping.”

“I’m fine,” you grit.

“It wasn’t a suggestion,” he chided harshly, as if lecturing a child, “I don’t need someone wrecking my ship more than it already has. You can work when you’re capable.”

He briskly storms back into the ship to grab the medpack, effectively ending your spat. Collapsing to the ground, you curse under your breath in irritation as you stare at your stinging cut. A piercing ache begins to radiate in your temples and weariness starts to settle into your bones. You’re so tired. The emotional turmoil of the past week had sucked every drop of energy you had left, and you were left feeling like you’d been hit with a landspeeder.

A worried coo draws you from your thoughts, and the child looks up at you expectantly.

“Hey, little guy,” you said, patting his head lightly with your free hand. He gingerly toddles to your thigh and tilts his head at your bloody palm. The kid begins to fuss, gurgling as he claws at the side of your leg. You scoop him up into your lap, and he settles down, satisfied.

“What’s going on, kiddo?”

Then, he closes his eyes and holds his hand out, hovering over yours. You feel the flesh on your wound begin to move. Your gash is closing before your eyes and the skin is completely healed, as if it was never there at all. You pressed your fingers into your palm; the burning pain had subsided and the skin beneath it was completely smooth. Brows furrowed, your eyes dart from your hand to the child, his eyes slowly drooping closed. Your mind is racing. You hear Mando shuffle back out from the Crest, quickly dropping beside you and checking your hand.

You’re both stunned to silence as the child in your lap falls fast asleep.

Early mornings in the forest were cold.

You’d been shivering in front of the fire for a few hours now, wrapped in a threadbare blanket you’d taken from your bed. You stared pensively at your palm, gently tracing your fingers over where a cut should’ve been. With a sigh, you hug your legs to your chest, and rest your forehead on your knees. After the child healed your injury, you thought your shock would’ve kept you from getting rest, but you slipped into sleep the second your head hit your pillow. You woke up later in the middle of the night, insisting to trade shifts with Mando.

“I doubt you want a repeat of yesterday,” you told him, “Go to bed.”

In all honesty, you needed the early hours of dawn to collect yourself as your mind was all over the place. Between the mysterious child, your clashing feelings for your partner and your impulsive career change, your life had seemed to unravel in the span of a week. You thought of the way he spoke to you the day before; he was quick to care for you, but his voice was emotionless and cold. It sounded very similar when he left all those years ago. You know he only means to keep distance between you and respect your wishes. After all, you were the one who wanted to separate for good after this mission, but the ache in your heart told you otherwise.

Pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes, you could only come to a single conclusion: the Mandalorian had successfully derailed your life yet again.

The cry of an animal pulls you from your brooding and you’re swift on your feet with a vibroblade in hand. Stalking around the trees, you keep low in the foliage and slowly move towards the source of the noise. You see a fathier standing on the main trail hooked to a lopsided wooden wagon. Fruit and vegetables were spread all around the road along with a broken wheel. An old man rounded the corner, looking tiredly around him and began picking up the mess. The grip on your blade relaxes. Standing to your full height, you walk forward to meet him on the main path.

“Excuse me, sir,” you call to him, “Do you need help?”

He gawks at you, obviously not expecting anyone to be in the forest. He gives you a smile.

“That is very kind of you. Thank you, child.”

You learn that his name is Amir. He’s a farmer with fields down the road, and for the past 50 years, he’d make the trip every weekend into town to sell his harvest on the same wagon. He tells you how the fathier lost control, pulling the old carriage and damaging the wheel.

“I suppose I must invest in those blasted speeder-whatevers,” he sighs.

You chuckle lightly. He sounds like your father.

“Please, let me fix it for you.”

Amir sits on a rock to the side of the trail, and you try your best to repair the wagon. Making light conversation with him as you work, you spoke of your own family’s orchard and recounted the times you spent on the farm. His company relaxes you and for a moment, you’re able to forget the chaos that consumed your thoughts earlier.

“It’s hard work, this life,” he says, “but it is fruitful all the same.”

You laugh earnestly at his joke. He smiles at you warmly, patting his hands on his knees.

“Where is your family now?”

“They were lost to the Empire. Our farm was burned down.”

He sighs sadly, “War seems to take from us both. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Please, don’t be. It happened a long time ago,” you say quickly.

A beat of awkward silence passes. Amir changes the subject.

“So what are you doing here? In these woods. You look less like a farm girl and more like a mercenary.”

“Close. I’m a bounty hunter. Our ship crashed just past those trees.”

“You’re with someone else?”

“Yes. A Mandalorian. He’s–” you pause, thinking carefully over your words, “He’s just an old colleague of mine.”

But Amir is a very observant man, and he notices your hesitation.

“Tell me more about this Mandalorian of yours. I’ve never met one before.”

“It’s kind of a long story,” you say sheepishly, “I wouldn’t want to keep you.”

“A long story?” He questions, mischief flashing in his eyes, “I thought he was just a colleague.”

Warmth travels to your cheeks as he looks at you expectantly.

Cheeky old bastard.

But you indulge him, giving him a watered-down version of your history with Mando; how you met, how you worked together for many years before you parted ways, and how he came back asking you to help with his weird magical son. Amir listened intently, and when you finished, his face was pulled in thought.

“It’s a bit odd for a bounty hunter to have a child, isn’t it?” He wonders aloud, “I take it isn’t the safest profession in the world. I could see how he could need the help.”

You chew on your bottom lip, attention focused on twisting a screw.

“We... didn’t split on the best terms. It wouldn’t be good for the baby.”

“I see.”

Amir notes your sudden change in demeanour, observing the way you tensed at the subject.

“Did you love him?”

You freeze, heart pounding loudly in your chest at the thought. You know the answer, but you’re terrified to speak it aloud, as if Mando could hear you utter it into the universe.

So you answered him honestly.

“I’m angry with him.”

He lets out a hearty laugh.

“My dear, you can be angry with someone and still love them.”

What a nosy man.

You shrug laughing lightly with him as you go back to work. As you mull over his words, you find them resonating deep within you. Had it been anyone else, you probably would’ve ignored or straight-up denied the question, but connecting with Amir had made you feel comfortable to speak freely. It felt cathartic to put your feelings into words.

“You know, Imperial soldiers occupied the town for many, many years. My daughter decided to join the rebellion after she joined the local militia. We got into a terrible argument, begged her not to fight, to stay home but–” Amir struggles to finish. You’d stopped your tinkering with the wheel, instead listening carefully to his story. Your heart twisted, as the grief he felt was very familiar. You reached out to hold his wrinkled hand, giving him a sad smile.

Amir takes a breath, looking wistfully towards the treetops as he continues,

“Sometimes, when people hurt us, we think we want nothing more to do with them. But when they’re gone, we only regret the love we never spoke out loud.”

Din thought he was dreaming when he woke up to the smell of cooking food.

When he left the Razor Crest, you were feeding the child a small bowl of sautéed vegetables and rice. To the side of the camp, he spotted bags of fresh produce and grain. You greet him with a relaxed grin.

“You know, some of the things you’ve kept in there haven’t been touched since we split. It was kind of disgusting.”

He’s so confused.

“Where did you get all of this?” He asks.

“There was a man who broke down on the side of the road. I helped fix his wagon and he gave us food in return.”

You pat the child’s head as he finishes up his meal and take him into one arm. Din only stares, bewildered, as you pick up a dish that was sitting by the fire pit and hold it out to him.

“Eat. And when you’re done, come find me,” you say, “We need to talk.”

“We need to talk.”

Words stronger than any weapon.

Anxiety churned in his stomach, nearly rendering him incapable of keeping any food down. But your cooking was leagues better than any ration pack that he’d had in weeks; Din wasn’t about to (literally) throw the opportunity away, especially if this was some of the last moments he’d ever have with you. He ate slowly, savoring every bite, heart warming at the way you made it especially spicy for him. From the window of the cockpit, Din watched you leisurely skip rocks across the water while the child excitedly wandered along the shore. It was almost unsettling how quickly your energy had changed within a day; it reminded him of the days before he left. The days where there wasn’t a giant rift between you.

When he finished his meal, Din rounded the corner of the ship expecting to see you at the shore, but you were nowhere to be found. He approached the edge of the water and stared at the abandoned pile of smooth stones. The next thing he knew, he was being roughly tugged by his arm and thrown flat on his back, knocking the wind out of him. He gasped, chest heaving for air and adrenaline coursing through his veins. As he struggled to prop himself up on his elbows, you meandered into his view. He expected to see your face contorted with rage once again, but to his surprise, your expression was cool and collected as you pulled at the wraps around your hands.

“We’re gonna spar,” you say, tone suspiciously even, “And you’re gonna tell me everything about the kid.”

Din stares, bewildered as you tower over him.

“Why?”

You still don’t look at him directly, instead tugging tightly at the cloth against your wrist and checking if you’re satisfied with your work.

“If memory serves me correctly, we’re still evenly matched. 350 to 350,” you say, not even bothering to address the second part of your demands.

But Din will take whatever you give him at this point, so he complies and swipes at your ankles with his legs, knocking you down. Taking the opportunity to get back onto his feet, he squares himself into position. You propel yourself back to your feet with much more grace, brushing yourself off and bringing up your fists. Din swears he can see faint lines of a smile on your lips and a glint of excitement in your eyes.

“Don’t hold back. Even if I’m mad at you.”

He smirks.

“Never.”

You were always better at close combat than he was; the nature of your preferred weapon required so. But what Din lacked in skill, he made up for in stamina, and that’s why he was able to keep your little competition even for such a long time. Your fight had been going for nearly an hour, and at this point, you’d normally tire out and start getting sloppy from exhaustion. But your residual feelings of frustration and dream of kicking his ass for the past three years kept you fierce on your toes. It also helped that he had a story to tell.

You listened attentively as Mando told you of the Mudhorn in between your relentless assault of jabs and kicks, how the child used his strange powers to lift a giant beast and how it was unlike anything he’d ever seen before. He also told you how he actually delivered the kid to the client, but turned back to rescue him before the Imperials had a chance to do any harm. (You noted how his voice dipped slightly in shame admitting this to you.) He told you of Sorgan, Tatooine and his reunion with Ran, and how no matter what system he seemed to end up in, the child was always in danger. As you processed this information, your attention seemed to slip, and Mando was able to throw a punch straight into your nose.

You stumble backwards, cursing at the pain and feeling warm liquid pooling on your upper lip. He relents for a moment, pacing towards you in worry.

“Shit, I’m sorry–”

You cut him off by gripping his arm, using his momentum to drive him over your shoulder and throw him on his stomach. Pressing your boot into his back and pinning him firmly against the ground, you tease.

“Not the first time I had you like this, Mando.”

You keep your foot firm against him as he struggles to push himself up against you, heavy breaths crackling through the vocoder of his helmet. Eventually, he relents and holds up his hands in surrender.

Pride blooms warmly in your chest, and you collapse on the ground next to him.

I nearly broke one of his ribs this time. You’re dizzy as you come down from the high of adrenaline coursing through you, exhaustion settling into your sore body.

“If I sustain another injury on this stupid mission, I’m taking all the credits for myself,” you say, wiping the blood gushing from your nose.

You hear him chuckle lightly beside you.

“You deserve it. I’ve been a total ass.”

“That, you have.”

Catching your breath, you focus on the sounds of birds in the trees, and the feeling of wind cooling and relaxing your body. It was so tempting to just give into him, but you remembered what you called him here for– why you initiated a duel in the first place. The talk with Amir this morning helped clear your head, but it still terrified you to address it all.

You take a deep breath, basking a little longer in this moment of peace.

“Thanks for not holding back,” you said earnestly, pointing to your nose.

Standing up and brushing the dirt from your clothes, you turn to him and hold out a hand.

“Are we good?” he asks, hope slipping through his voice.

“No. Not even close,” your lips curl into a sad smile, “But it’s a start.”

You pull him up to his feet, and your grasp on one another lingers for a fleeting moment. You’re the first to let go, brushing your sweaty palms against your pants. Walking to the shore of the lake, you take a few rocks in your hands and continue skipping them across the still surface of the water. Your heart is racing; you feel his gaze on you, expectant for … something, anything.

“When my brother left to become a rebel,” you began, voice taught with anxiety, “I was only 18 years old. For a long time, I was so angry with him. Who leaves their only family behind? Alone? To fend for themselves? I was–I was convinced I didn’t care what happened to him after that. That I hated him. ”

Something painful catches in your throat. You skip another rock.

“We were so young. He wanted to take me with him, y’know? Find the Moff that killed our family and get revenge. Destroy the Empire and end their reign of terror. I was too afraid; all I could think about living to see another day. But after a while, I missed him so much–I just wanted my family again. I started to regret not going with him, but then I met you.”

Mando didn’t respond, listening carefully and hanging on your every word.

“And when you came along, it felt... nice to let someone in again. Not just as a coworker but as a friend. To not be alone. To have someone in my life. To– ”

To fall deeply, wholly, and beautifully in love.

Frustrated, you grip the smooth stone in your hand tightly. You feel like you’re rambling; there’s just so much.

Mando finally speaks, “Y/N, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I’m still hurt and angry,” your voice was beginning to tremble, “That being abandoned for a second time was the worst feeling in the galaxy. I need you to know that.”

You hear him walk towards you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Mesh’la, please look at me,” he pleads.

“But I also need you to know that and I left things like this, I’d never find peace.”

You turn around to face him, tears in your eyes and heart leaping in your throat.

“Because there was a time where I thought I’d know you forever. And I don’t want to let it go.”

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@bella-ciaao @tiffdawg @peggers-n-beggers @sinnamon-bunn @adlerorzel-blog @theocatkov @paryl @fruitsaladtree @allisondavis236

thx loves 💘

#migraine #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian/reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin/reader #baby yoda #IVE BEEN WORKING ON THIS SINCE LIKE 7AM DJSKLA;FDSFJK #LEO POST ON TIME CHALLENGE

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berrynarrybanana · 4 years

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say that you love me - pt. 1

A/N: So I was going to post a prologue and then I decided...nah. This was too good for me to sit on and for once, I kind of like the angst that I created. I really, really hope you all like it! Please let me know what you think! Also shout out to everyone in my writing group for being awesome and inspiring. There are so many great minds there and I wish I could list you all here. Thank you so much!

P.S: I love feedback and interacting! Don’t hesitate to leave some comments, tags, or asks with your thoughts!

Word Count: 4K

July 2018

I couldn’t stop myself.

Harry was far too charming and familiar for me to avoid giving into. The same boyish grin that I loved when I was a teenager was now a cheeky smirk backed up by an electric performance that had my body buzzing seconds into the show. Any self-control that I thought I had going into tonight was gone. I should have known that I didn’t have any self-control when it came to Harry. It wasn’t the first time that I had seen him perform on a stage, but the last time I saw him on stage was in the band after I graduated from Uni. It was different with the other guys around. We still saw each other every Christmas and occasionally we would go for dinner to catch up, but things were different now. He was Harry Styles and I was just Bristol. If I could pinpoint one thing about Harry that drastically changed, it was how he kissed.

The passion that he put behind kissing me made a fire ignite in my belly that not even six tequila shots could kill. He moved with confidence and purpose, his large palms gripping my sides as he backed me into his bedroom door. I wasn’t sure if this was his actual bedroom, or just a guest room that he used for hookups. I didn’t care either way. I was in too deep and I was going to see this through no matter what happened or where we were. I moaned into his lips as he slipped his tongue over mine, digging his nails into the soft flesh of my hips to pull me closer. He rolled his hip against my thigh as he pulled back from my lips, pressing a few sloppy kisses down my neck.

“That’s my shirt.” Harry tugged at the hem of my t-shirt, lifting his head so that he could look into my eyes. I let out a confused whine, reaching for his face. “The shirt you have one, it’s mine.”

“Harry, I’ve had this shirt for ages.” I glanced between us, the faded Pink Floyd logo almost gone after one too many spins in the wash. “It’s mine.”

“No, it’s not.” He stepped back, holding me at arm's length as he looked at it closely at the fabric. “Bristol, that is definitely my shirt.”

“Harry, are you kidding me right now?” I rolled my eyes, dropping my head back against his bedroom door with a groan. “Can we argue about the shirt tomorrow morning?”

“No.” He tugged at the hem again, a smirk gracing his lips as he let his eyes slowly drift back up my body. He licked over his bottom lip, shaking his head. “Summer of 2009. We went on one last camping trip with Georgia, Matt, Benji, and the rest of the gang. Remember that?”

My head was foggy from the alcohol and the high that Harry had me on.

“Not really…” I lifted my head up, pouting at him. “Harry-”

“I fucked you in the field behind Georgia’s house, under the stars, for hours while everyone else was passed out.” He giggled and I was sure it was because of the way my breath hitched in my throat. “You remember now?”

“Vaguely?” I squeaked out.

“Stole my bloody shirt and left me in a tent with Benji after.” He let his hands slip under the shirt again, grabbing at my sides as he moved back in, kissing my lips softly. “Not the only thing you stole from me back then if I remember correctly.”

“Yeah?” I asked, my eyes fluttering shut as he let his finger drift to the button of my pants, popping it open with ease before tugging the zipper down. “What else did I steal from you?”

“My heart.”

My eyes flew open and connected with Harry’s right before he smashed his lips into mine fully again. Just like that, we were back to clawing at each other like animals. He could always do that to me. He could cool me down and then fire me right back up. It was a talent that no other man had ever been able to replicate. Harry not only had an affect on my body, but he had one on my emotions as well. I slipped my fingers back into his hair as he slipped his fingers into my panties, teasing my clit with short, barely there circles. It had me whining into his mouth, my hips following his hand as he moved his fingers back out. He pulled away, glancing down between us as he tugged my jeans down over my hips and thighs. I stepped out of them, carefully kicking them to the side as Harry dropped to his knees in front of me. I watched him with bated breath, licking over my swollen bottom lip in anticipation.

He unzipped my boots, helping me step out of them before kissing up my calf to my thigh. He stopped at my hips, pressing soft kisses to the tattoo inked into my skin there. Years ago, we went to a tattoo shop together. It was after the x-factor days, that much I remembered, but I wasn’t sure just how old we were. We were both so nervous, but we both desperately wanted to get inked up. After careful planning, we both decided to get laurel’s tattooed in the same spot on our hips. It was nice to have a reminder that Harry would always be in my life, inked into my skin. Even if we weren’t together, we were still best friends.

We were still soulmates.

“Fuck, Harry.” I gasped as he sucked into the skin where my tattoo rested, a smirk gracing his lips as I slipped my fingers into his silky hair, tugging gently at the roots. “I need you to do something, Harry. Just please...fuck me.”

“Don’t remember you being so brash, love.” He snorted, kissing over the skin that rested just above my panty line. I tossed my head back when he started to trail his fingers up my inner thigh, a shiver ripping down my spine. “I remember you being so shy and quiet…”

“I was not.” I whined again, bucking my hips up again. “Remember telling you exactly how you felt between my thighs. Remember telling you how to fuck me right.”

“My sweet-” A soft kiss placed just over my clit through my soaking panties. “Opinionated-” another kiss placed below my belly button as he pulled my panties down. “Girl.”

Seconds later, Harry was licking into me like I was his last meal. A moan tore from my throat as the tip of his tongue brushed over my clit. He made the same motion a few times before finally sucking at the small bundle of nerves that was craving his touch. He had definitely gotten better at this. The first time he did it was awkward and there were a few flaws. Now, there were none and I was genuinely worried that I was going to pull his hair out with how hard I was tugging at the roots. He started to moan into me as his fingers trailed up my right thigh. Seconds later, those same fingers were slipping into my entrance with ease.

“Harry.” His name tumbled off my tongue before I could catch it and I dropped my head back to the bedroom door, raising my hand up to cover my mouth. “Fuck, fuck.”

“Pull your hand away,” Harry pulled his mouth from where I needed it most, curling his fingers up into my slick walls. “I need to hear you, Bristol. Need to hear you say my name.”

“Arrogant son of bitch,” I rolled my head forward, dropping my hand from my mouth. “You’ve gotten much better at this, you know?”

“Had some practice.” He smirked before slipping the flat of his tongue back over my clit.

I bit my lip, my eyes fluttering shut as my hand slipped back into his hair. I was bucking my hips up into his mouth and I knew that it was over then. He kept his fingers steady, curling up every so often to brush against that spongy spot inside me until my walls were clenching around him. He popped off of my clit with a gasp, his eyes watching as I contracted around his fingers. He milked me through my orgasm, my legs shaking and my lips parted. When I finally came back down, my body was aching to be filled with his cock, he slipped his fingers out slowly before putting them into his mouth. He stood up, suckling softly at his own fingers as I looked up at him. I watched him in awe as he pulled them out, giving me a soft hum before kissing my lips.

“Still taste good,” He pressed his lips to mine a few times more, his hands dropping down to my hips. “Wanna fuck you now.”

“Please.” I whispered, tossing my arms around his neck.

“Jump.” He nodded, tapping my hip. I did as he asked, swinging my legs around his hips with a loud laugh. He let me get situated, laughing along with me before he walked us back over to his bed. “Bristol, you have gotten so beautiful. Can’t fucking believe it.”

“Me?” I snorted, rolling my eyes as I looked between us. “Your tits are bigger than mine, H. I actually can’t believe it.”

“I don’t have tits,” He ducked his head down, a soft double chin creasing his neck. “What are you on about?”

He dropped me onto the bed, his eyes still trained on his pecs. I rolled my eyes, lifting my foot to push my toes into the muscle on his pecs. He grabbed my ankle, glancing back at me with a mischievous grin. I narrowed my eyes as he leaned down, pressing a kiss to my ankle. I giggled as he made his way up to my kneecap. He sucked into the skin of my thigh next before biting down playfully. I let out a squeal, pushing my foot against his chest gently to push him off of me. He laughed, stumbling back as I slid up towards the middle of the bed. His eyes stayed on mine as he reached behind himself to strip off his own shirt. He tossed it aside before he started working at the button of his pants. I let my hand slip down between my legs, toying with my clit as I watched him move slowly. He licked over his bottom lip, shaking his head as I let out a moan.

“Fucking unbelievable.” He muttered. “Can’t believe I ever let you go, Bristol.”

“Me either.” I giggled as he kneeled on the bed, crawling between my legs. It didn’t take him long to reattach his lips to mine, his fingers curling around my wrist to tear it away from my clit.

“Tonight, I’m the only one that’s gonna make you cum.” He whispered, the lust burning in his eyes sparking a fire deep in my belly. “I’m gonna fuck you so good that you’ll forget every other man that tried to take my place.”

I gasped as he slipped into me, the stretch of his cock one that left a warm burning feeling in my walls. I missed this. I missed him. He was nothing like the Harry I used to know. I didn’t mind the difference as he pulled out of me before fucking back in with a whimper falling off his lips. He closed his eyes, ducking his head down as he started to really give it to me. His hips were moving so fast that our skin was slapping together, mixing in with the slick sounds of my wetness. It felt like heaven and I was almost positive that I could feel him in my tummy. My hands flew up to his back, clawing at his skin as I closed my eyes. He sat up, his hands lifting my thighs up before leaning back over me. He pressed his hands into the pit of my knees as he looked down, watching his cock fuck into me with no mercy. My hands flew out, searching for something to hold onto as he pushed me closer and closer to my release. I settled on the sheets, my fingers gripping tight to the linen as I tossed my head back with a loud moan of Harry’s name.

He dropped one hand from my leg, letting it fall past his body as he reached down to play with my clit. He knew just how I liked it, gentle circles with pressure applied. Without fail, my walls started to clench around him as his cock nudged at that spongy spot in my walls. I let out a noise I didn’t even know I could make as he grunted, lifting his hips up to fuck into my harder. When it finally hit me, it was like a blinding white light flashed behind my eyelids, my brain going completely blank as I clenched around him. He dropped my second leg, lowering his torso over mine as he gave me a few more hard thrusts before cumming in me. I was glad I was on the pill because we were far too caught up in each other to even think about a condom. He whined into my neck, slipping his arms around my body to hold me close to his chest as we tried to come down.

“That was...so fucking good.” He panted, his hot breath hitting the clammy skin of my neck. I let out a giggle, finally letting go of the duvet before tossing my arms around him lazily. “Did you get tighter?”

“No,” I rolled my eyes. “I do kegels now! Trying to strengthen my pelvic floor.”

“Oh my god.” Harry pulled back, pressing his lips against mine in a sloppy kiss. “Are you going to stay with me tonight, Bristol?”

“Of course.” I pressed my palm to his cheek, sure that I had my own double chin now. “You’re crazy if you think I would skip out on cuddles with my favorite man.”

He looked relieved at my words, turning his head to kiss my palm.

“Wanna take a shower?” He whispered. “Maybe go for a second round.”

“As long as you do all the work,” I teased with an eye roll. “I’m knackered.”

Harry tossed his head back, barking out a laugh.

It was going to be so hard to leave him tomorrow.

-----------------------------------------------

When I woke up the next morning, Harry wasn’t in bed.

I would have been sad if it was any other guy, but I knew that Harry didn’t go too far. He wouldn’t leave me all alone in bed without good reason. I reached over for my -his- Pink Floyd shirt, slipping it over my head before I walked towards his walk in closet. After searching for a few minutes, trying to avoid thinking about the amount of money in his closet, I found a drawer with his boxers. I found a black pair, slipping them over my thighs and settling the band over my tummy.

They were tight, but comfortable.

I pranced down the hall towards the stairs, trying to remember where his kitchen was exactly. Never in my wildest dreams did I think he would be in a house this huge and this fancy. He had really done well for himself and I was proud. When I finally made my way through the living area, I heard him talking in the kitchen. I didn’t hesitate to walk in anyways. We weren’t big on secrets, so he wouldn’t mind if I heard bits of his conversation. He would just tell me later.

“Listen, Rachel-” Harry stopped speaking, his eyes meeting mine as I walked in. “Good morning, Bristol.”

“Morning, H.” I said softly, stopping by the kitchen island. I looked over to the girl who I assumed was Rachel. I shifted, hoping that my bottom half was covered by the island. “Hello.”

“Who is she?” Rachel looked at Harry, snapping out her question.

My eyes grew wide, looking down at my hands pressed against the countertop. Harry let out a frustrated sigh and that’s when I realized exactly who Rachel was. It was his ex-girlfriend. The ex that broke up with him when he admitted his love for her. I looked back up, my eyes catching his before I gave Rachel a sickeningly sweet smile. I moved around the island, stepping closer to her. She was taller than me by...well, a lot. Her legs were extremely long and I was a little jealous, but I didn’t give a flying fuck about her long legs when she was standing in my Harry’s kitchen after I spent the night in his bed.

He clearly didn’t want her there and neither did I.

“Silly, he just said my name is Bristol.” I stuck my hand out for a handshake, but I knew she wouldn’t shake it. “I’m his first girlfriend from back at home. I stopped by to see his show last night and well, you know how it can be with Harry. Couldn’t resist his charm and now here we are, standing in his kitchen... waiting for you to go so we can enjoy a very late breakfast after a very long night.”

“I’ll call you later, Harry.” Rachel looked down at my hand in disgust before glancing behind me to look at Harry. “Call me when she’s gone.”

“I’ll never be gone, Rachel.” I hummed out, waving at her as she walked away. “I’m here for life, babe!”

“Oh dear god.” I heard Harry snort out a laugh behind me and I turned around with my arms crossed over my chest to see him leaning down, his elbows pressing into the countertop and his chin in his palm. “What was that?”

“I’m hungry, I wanted her gone.” I shrugged. “This is my Harry time, not hers. You know I hate sharing...especially you.”

“Oh, I remember.” He smirked. “Come over here and give me a kiss?”

“Have you brushed your teeth?” I scrunched up my nose playfully, dragging my feet along the floor of his kitchen.

“Have you?” He stood up straight, his hands curling around my arms before pulling me into him. He ducked his head down, kissing me a few times before pulling back with a smile. “Good morning, Bristol.”

“Good morning, Harry.” I sighed. “What’re we having?”

“French toast.” I slipped my arms around his body with a satisfied hum, kissing over his collarbones. “Can we talk about last night, Bristol?”

I pulled away, looking up at him with furrowed brows. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that we had amazing sex last night and...it meant something to me.” He said softly. “It’s been so long since we’ve been together, but last night felt so fucking right. I… I don’t want to let you go again.”

“Harry,” I pulled my arms from around him and I could see the hurt in his eyes. “We live such different lives right now. Hell, we live on different continents.”

“I’ll move back to London.” He said. “If that’s what it takes, I’ll do it.”

“Your life is here, H.” I said softly. “What happens when you go back on tour again? Will we break up again so you can focus on your music?”

“No, Bristol.” He shook his head. “We’re not kids anymore, I know how to juggle my career and my personal life now.”

“We’re not, you’re right.” I agreed, my throat growing thick as I looked down at my feet, crossing my arms over my chest to shield myself. “I have to tell you something.”

“Anything, Bristol.” He said softly. “You know you can always talk to me.”

“I’m trying to have a baby, Harry.” I looked back up at him, my eyes watering. I knew that would be a deal breaker. He wasn’t in a spot in his life where he was ready to have kids. “I’ve been talking with my doctor and I’ve been looking into options for a while now. We’re going to start treatment and testing around Christmas time.”

Harry didn’t say anything, his face falling as a few tears fell down my cheek.

It was uncomfortably quiet and with every second that passed, my heart was breaking. I needed him to say something to me. I shifted on my feet as he cleared his throat. I couldn’t look at him anymore. I knew I shouldn’t have said anything to him about it. It was something extremely important to me and I had spent a year going over it with myself. I wanted a baby and now was the time. I was going to have one even if I didn’t have a boyfriend or a husband to do it with me.

“I don’t know what to say.” His voice cracked and I looked up quickly to see his green eyes glassy with red rims. “You can’t wait…I mean I could-”

“No.” I shook my head. “I...I’ve put a lot into this Harry. I’ve done my traveling, I have a nice flat and a good job, I’m ready to be a mom.”

“Oh god.” He reached up to wipe under his eyes. “Bristol I always thought it would be us doing this together. I thought that-”

“I would wait for you until you were done living your life?” I let out a scoff. “Harry, we were supposed to get back together after X-Factor, remember? We had a long talk about it and we both decided that it was a good idea and then you started seeing someone else and that hurt but I understood. And so I did my waiting. I waited for eight years Harry! The only reason last night even happened is because I came to you!”

“Why did you?” He sniffled, shaking his head as his lower lip quivered. “Why did you come here and have sex with me if you weren’t going to be with me.”

“I don’t know, Harry!” I cried out. “I love you more than anyone else in the world. I’ve never truly gotten over you and I just...I needed to see you. I needed to see where you are in your life because I wanted to know if it would be possible for us to get back together.”

“And?” He asked. “What do you think? Am I good enough for you, Bristol?”

“It has nothing to do with that.” I snapped, spinning on my heel before walking out of his kitchen at a quick pace. “Fuck you for thinking that low of me.”

“Fuck you for coming here just to get fucked by Harry Styles!” He snapped back. “Was it everything you wanted, Bristol?”

“I hate you!” I shouted, stomping up the stairs to his bedroom.

Tears fell down my cheeks as I searched for my pants on his bedroom floor. It didn’t take me long to find them and slip them back over my legs. This was not how I wanted the conversation to go. As I was buttoning my jeans, I heard Harry walk in behind me with a heavy sigh.

“I didn’t mean that, Bristol.” He said quickly. “Don’t go.”

“What did it mean, then?” I turned around, my eyes wide. “Are you telling me you didn’t just call me a groupie? Because that’s what it fucking sounded like.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, I just…” He brushed his palms over his face. “I’m used to girls fucking me and disappearing because they wanted a story to tell their friends. It sucks that I even brought it up, but it’s what I know now. I haven’t had a proper girlfriend since you, Bristol and I’m a little rusty.”

“Well next time, set your fucking ego aside and use your words.” I sighed. “I didn’t come here just to fuck you. I actually didn’t plan on doing it all. I planned on going to your show and maybe having brunch with you to catch up because the last time I saw you was Christmas and I missed my friend.”

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. “Just...don’t go, okay? Let’s go eat breakfast and talk some more. Maybe we can figure something out?”

“What is there to figure out?” I sniffled. “I want a baby, you’re not ready. It’s never going to be the right time for us, Harry. Can’t you see that?”

“Yes, it will.” He moved forward, slipping his palms over my face. “Bristol, please-”

“I can’t, Harry. I can’t do this to you and I can’t do this to me.” I whispered, tears spilling over my cheeks as he shook his head. “Goodbye, Harry.”

#harry styles one shot #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry one shot #harry styles imagine #harry angsy #harry smut #harry fluff #multipart fic #say that you love me

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the-silentium · 4 years

Text

Jinx Pt.2

Masterlist

Pairing: The Swedes x Reader

Words: 2260 words

Warnings: Angst, torture, blood, swears... I think that’s about it.

Tags: @jossambird

//General//

//Reset//

//Reset all//

//Enter password//

**************

//Resetting//

As the cog turned onto the screen of your iPad, you felt lighter, free of the anxiety that someone could find a way into your tablet or simply see a drawing by accident. Your fear of hurting your new family was too great, even though they had promised to never touch your device again.

Your relationship with them only got better in the weeks following the revelation of your ability, their acceptance of who you were only increasing the confidence you had in them, leading you to open more about yourself.

You were throwing the tablet into your bag, put on your red squared flannel coat when Oscar's impatient shout came from the entrance of the apartment. You rolled your eyes at his eagerness, clearly, you'd never understand why he loved hunting people down so much. I wasn't your favorite part of a job, your favorite being when the mission was done and you could go relax somewhere or, as of late, pass time with your new family.

"Took you long enough." You rolled your eyes, to what Oscar fake gasped.

"We have all the time we want, relax." Pushing your luck, you ruffled his too perfectly arranged hair, dashing to run for the car where the older brothers were waiting as he went to grab your arm.

Hurriedly you pulled on the 1968 Ford Mustang door handle multiple times, ultimately finding it locked.

"Shit." You muttered, the dead leaves cracking under Oscar's boots alerting you of his presence right behind you.

"You'll regret that." He whispered into your ear, an enormous handful of leaves falling in the back of your shirt making you yelp.

Your back curved at the rough contact, hands flying to the hems of your coat and shirt to make them fall, some of them getting stuck in the fabric despite how hard you shook it.

Otto knocked on the window, signaling that it was time to go, your childish behavior would have to wait for later. You sigh, letting the victory to Oscar -this time-, taking place on the back seats.

The half-hour road would have been pleasant if it wasn't of the leaves crumbles scrapping your back. You tried to ignore it the best you could by humming to the songs on the radio and ignoring Axel's glances in the rearview mirror.

"This place would be scary at nightfall." Oscar said, whistling in admiration when you all gathered at the door of the building.

"Good thing we are not staying here for nightfall then." A shiver ran up your spine at the idea of walking in the abandoned factory in the dark. Who knows what could be hiding in the thrashed rooms.

Axel's hand fell on your shoulder, his gaze searching yours to reassure you that it'll be alright. He'll protect you. His lips did the tiniest of twitch when you smiled wholeheartedly at him, grateful you at least have one brother who you could trust fully to not scare the shit out of you when you'd least expect it.

Otto snatched the keep out sign, throwing it in the bushes. Immediately, you had to suppress your instincts that were screaming at you to get out of there as fast as possible, passing your nerves as a result of Oscar's night plan.

The silence in the building was strange, although not uncommon. You checked a room on the right for your target as Oscar checked a room on the left, regrouping with the others when you found no one.

"Why would a guy hide in here?" You whispered to Oscar, who shrugged. Needles were lying everywhere along with broken glass, old tools, torn pieces of fabric and broken furniture. You couldn't progress as silently as you'd like, glass crunching under the sole of all your boots, rising your anxiety slightly.

You repeated the process a couple more times, checking a room, regrouping, until a metallic door fell from the top of the door frame you just passed, right behind your back trapping you inside a windowless empty room. After recovering from the initial shock, the loud bang of the door landing on the ground almost giving you a heart attack, you tried lifting and pushing the door, not to avail. Bangings came from the other side, Oscar's muffled calls of your name barely reached your ears.

"Oscar! Axel!" You hit the door, your worst fear coming true. "Ott-"

A metallic noise behind you killed your brother's name in your throat, your body reacting as quickly as it could, gun at the ready. The absence of light made you press your back firmly to the door, wishing that maybe you would pass through it by some mysterious phenomenon, the incessant hits on the metal stressing you more and more.

A soft whooshing sound caught your attention on your right, along with a pungent smell. Panicked, you slide on the door, landing on your ass to hide your face into your clothing, praying that your family would get you out of there before the gas had reason of you. You dropped your gun without wanting to, your only source of security disappearing in the dark. You sit there, hearing the banging, feeling your heart rate decreasing, your respiration slowing and you knew. You were screwed.

"Y/N, are you alright? Kärlek!" Axel… He sounded distressed. It… made you feel… worried?

A weird sound registered in your brain, your fingers twitching in response. You jerked as a hand grabbed your wrist, a weak scream leaving your mouth as something poked into your forearm.

The hits on the door became louder, worried voices morphing into menacing ones.

"Sweet dreams, agentin." The distorded voice whispered, a hand softly closing your eyelids for you since you couldn't do it yourself.

*********

You were shivering uncontrollably, the cold air mixed with your wet clothes made it impossible for you to gain some sort of warmth. You were tired, oh so tired, but you fought. You fought as hard as you could. Against the nausea, against the cold, against the exhaustion.

It took a while for you to get seated in the wet tiny cell, the remaining effects of the gas slowly disappearing from your system.

"We can finally get started."

Your head was still turning, your mind was still foggy but your instincts were still sharp. Your body moved by itself, retreating as far as it could from the voice, until binds on your wrists stopped your escape.

"Wh-who are you?" You finally managed to open your eyes, taking in the dark humid cell you were in. Droplet of water ran onto the stone walls, gathering into small puddles where some courageous rats were drinking unbothered. The two oil lamps weren't enlightening much of the room, just enough to show you your dirty cell and all the sharp tools exposed onto the table.

"Did you seriously think the Commission didn't have enemies?" A vicious smile stretched his lips, your blood running cold. He took out a set of keys, unlocking your cell before stepping in.

Honestly, no. It never crossed your mind that a time-traveling company full of mercenaries could have enemies. How the hell did the guys in the Infinite Switchboard missed that?

The binds bit your skin the more you pulled on them, trying to evade his sickening form.

"We knew you'd come for us sooner or later. We just had to set up the perfect time for agents to come do their handy work." He pulled your hair back, a disgusting smell of cigarettes assaulting your nose. "I'm glad to see that our plan worked. So einfach zu betrügen. Ein Haufen Idioten."

You glared at him, your fear overpowered for a moment by your training, your heartbeat slowing to a steady beat, your muscles relaxing, testing the strength of your legs in an urge to hit him where it hurts. And hit him you did.

Satisfaction flowed through you in waves at his cries of pain, the way he fell to his knees almost made you laugh. That was before the knuckles connected to your cheekbone, sending your head right into the wall. You didn't have the time to recover that hands wrapped tightly around your neck, his body straddling yours, restraining your movements.

"No more playing around. Where is your briefcase?"

The pressure alleviated for a second, allowing you time to spit on his face instead of talking like he wanted. He cursed in what you thought to be german before his hands tightened around your throat once more, lifting your neck to pull you back on the ground.

Your cries were muffled by his hands, white lights dancing before your eyes.

"How do you use them?" He yelled into your face.

As his patience reached its limit, your lack of answer pissing him off, the shine of a knife caught your attention just before it cut slowly, steadily into the skin of your abdomen, superficially enough so you wouldn't die on him, but enough to make you think about a new way to approach the situation.

"Maybe this will help untie your tongue."

But it didn't, your mind deeply buried in one of your best memories to resist the pain your body was enduring.

After a while, the pain stopped, letting in its wake an uncomfortable throbbing. You allowed yourself to return to reality, leaving the comfort of your mom's arms, your brother's teasing, your sister's giggles and your father's laugh.

Tears flowed from your eyes as soon as your brain registered the white-hot pain, the new many cuts tainting your belly made you feel like you were burning.

As you dug into your flesh to execute your plan, tears flowed from your eyes, and pleas from your mouth. Pleas for your beloved Swedes to find you in time, because for the first time in 16 years, you wanted to live.

*************

"Ready to talk today?"

The man came back, lamp in hand, chasing the rats as soon as the light revealed them to the world. You'd had to hit them so they'd leave you alone, the blood under you enough to attract their hungry stomachs.

"Ready to die?" You answered with a smirk.

He took the bait, letting his annoyance guiding his actions. Unlocking your cell, he approached, the light of the lamp lightening the drawing on the wall, made of your very own blood. Giggles bounced around the cell as you saw his eyes taking in the monochromic illustration of himself, lying on the floor with a hole in his chest.

"Think you're funny?" Quickly, he put the lamp on the floor, something metallic hidden in his hand. He jumped on you again, the exhaustion of your sleepless night fending off the rats making you powerless against the needle entering the vulnerable skin of your arm.

"I guarantee you that you'll talk. I have all the time I want." He got up, grabbed the lamp and disappeared down a hallway.

"Continue telling you that, asshole." You muttered, analyzing the hole in the crook of your elbow. "Son of a bitch."

Without losing any precious second, you removed your coat, dipping it in the puddle on the floor and pressing it to the wall to erase your artwork, smudging the dried blood to protect any other eyes that would venture your way.

You reduced it to a massive stain, or so you thought in the absolute darkness.

Or was it dark? The hallway was bright again, his footsteps coming your way.

"Not dead yet? Shame." You shot, uncaring of what you would get in return.

"Y/N!" Oscar's voice boomed, hurting your beaten head.

"Turn it down, dude." You whined, massaging your temple. Boots appeared in your peripheral, attracting your eyes.

"He-"

Arms engulfed your form, tight but cautious of your bruises and wounds.

"Jag var så orolig. Snälla säg mig att du är okej." He pulled away, eyes frantically running over your face and front.

"Sorry, I don't speak handsome." You giggled, turning into a full-on laugh when he frowned, checking your head for bleeding. "It's so unfair." You pout. "The perfect Scandinavian stereotype. Handsome, gorgeous and cute all in the same family. Do you guys know how many women's love lives you've ruined just because they've looked at you?"

Shit, talking so much is exhausting. Your head became very heavy, falling forward on a hard chest.

"Vad är fel med henne?" Otto asked, bringing the lamp closer to better assess your injuries.

"The not-so-handsomes can't understand. Not everyone speaks Ikea." Your words were muffled by Axel's shirt, which by the way, was very very soft.

"I'm fairly sure she's drugged. Or hit her head too hard. One of the two." Oscar snickered, unlocking the chains around your wrists.

A hum vibrated in Axel's chest, snuggling more into his body at the feeling. Arms moved under your knees and back, lifting your battered body with care, stopping when a hiss escaped you.

"Sorry." He whispered, waiting for you to smile at him to position you better in his arms and follow his brothers out of the underground complex.

"You can kiss it better." Your eyes found his captivating ones, his usual stern gaze now replaced by a soft one.

"It's not you talking, Kärlek." He averts his eyes.

"No? I wanted it for a year though, not just now." You snuggled in his neck, the tiredness finally catching up to you. You fell asleep to the sound of a frenetic heartbeat, safe in the arms of your beloved Swede.

#the swedes #axel x reader #otto x reader #oscar x reader #ikea mafia #tua swedes

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lockefanfic · 4 years

Text

Business Trip: Pt 18 - Eye for an Eye

Jihyo’s arms wrap themselves around Momo’s neck, and the Korean girl, fully happy now to indulge in what was happening, presses forward and pushes the Japanese girl against the wall of the foyer, bringing her hands against the wall and trapping her against it. All the while their makeout session continues, their eyes shut as their full attention is focused entirely on exploring each others’ mouths.

You watch as Momo opens her mouth and slowly slides her tongue against Jihyo’s lips; the Korean girl responds by offering up her own, and soon their tongues are duelling as their arms explore each others’ torsos, Momo’s hands caressing Jihyo’s back over the skintight black shirt dress she is wearing, Jihyo’s still entangled in Momo’s long, dark hair.

Eventually Momo tears her mouth away from Jihyo’s long enough to turn and say something to you. Jihyo takes the opportunity to dive into Momo’s neck, placing hard, insistent kisses on the older girl’s soft skin.

“Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to join us?”

Drunk Momo was a real flirt.

“You’re pretty fucking hot, Detective,” she says, her words slurred somewhat by the alcohol coursing through her system, “I see why my dear boyfriend here decided to indulge himself this afternoon.”

Momo leans forward on the table of the small Seoul bar where the three of you are the only ones that remain of your party. Jihyo, to her credit, is a little less intoxicated than Momo, and still has the wherewithal to be embarrassed, believing for a moment that Momo was making an accusation.

“Oh my god, Momo, I… I didn’t mean to-”

“Oh no, no, please,” Momo quickly replies, “don’t worry about it. While you were grabbing the last round he told me all about your little liaison at the police station. It was pretty hot. And don’t worry, I’m not the jealous type. Quite the opposite, in fact, when it comes to sharing him with other women.”

“Is that so,” Jihyo says, her tone suddenly dropping to a more seductive tone, “so what type are you then, Miss Hirai?”

“I’m whatever type my boyfriend needs me to be. And… maybe… whatever type you need me to be too.”

Jihyo and Momo hold their eye contact for a few long seconds, and you had to admit you liked the sparks of mutual attraction you saw there.

“I’m going to hold you to that, Miss Hirai.”

Jihyo raises her hand and flags down a passing waitress, asking her for the bill.

---

It was plenty late in the evening - or early in the morning, depending on how you looked at it, when you finally found yourself back in your hotel room with Momo in tow… and behind her, her hands clasped in Momo’s, is Park Jihyo, her bright smile still written all over her cute features, her round cheeks still pink with an alcohol blush.

How did this happen? At some point Choa, Seolhyun, and Jeongyeon had called it a night, and it was just the three of you left in the bar… and then Momo turned on her flirting game, and now here you were.

Fuck it, you thought to yourself - it had been a long week, with one traumatic experience after another. You deserved this.

You drop your hotel key card on the room’s desk and start to take your jacket off, turning to find that Momo and Jihyo had already started the party without you, swaying slowly in each others’ arms, their noses barely touching, a sly, alluring smile on both of their faces, dancing to a tune only they can hear, where the band’s instruments consisted of alcohol, youth, and a disregard for consequences.

It’s Momo that makes the first move, of course, pressing her lips forward slightly until they meet those of the younger detective, who kisses her back with a slightest bit of hesitancy that might have been the last of her desire to not seem so easy. Momo deepens her kiss in response, and Jihyo doesn’t resist this time, fully giving in, it seemed, to the older Japanese girl’s advances.

You think about joining them, but you are happy to watch them make out in the small foyer of your hotel room, and so you lean against the desk and cross your arms, happy to play voyeur to the delicious looking act playing out in front of you.

“Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to join us?”

You weren’t entirely against just watching the two go at it, but you weren’t one to turn down an invitation like that. You step off the desk and approach Jihyo from behind, who lifts her head from Momo’s neck at your presence, turning her head somewhat to welcome you with a kiss that quickly deepens, her tongue inviting and exploring your own just as it did your girlfriend’s.

Momo takes a few seconds to enjoy the sight of the Korean girl making out with you, before she returns Jihyo’s earlier attention, diving into the detective’s neck and showering it with kisses of her own. Momo’s kisses cause the detective to moan into your mouth, and she breaks your kiss to let out a sigh of pleasure as the two of you begin to explore her.

“I think it’s Momo’s turn to enjoy this body of yours, detective,” you say, and you bring your hands around Jihyo’s torso to the front of her flat stomach before reaching them even lower, to the hem of the black, skintight dress she is wearing. Hooking your fingers into the hem, you drag the tight garment up, revealing inch after inch of soft, creamy skin until Jihyo raises her arms and lets you take it off completely.

Momo looked a little bit like a starving woman who had just been presented with a juicy steak; she is unable to contain herself at the sight of Jihyo in her underwear, her eyes glued to the younger girl’s full, round breasts, still encased a strapless black bra.

Momo looks ready to devour her, but with an alluring, seductive look written all over her beautifully sculpted features, Jihyo takes you and Momo by the hand and leads you both towards the bed.

Leaving you at the bedside, she lies down on the bed, dragging Momo with her. Before her back reaches the bed, she reaches behind her and undoes her bra, throwing it away. Topless now, she lies down on the soft bed while Momo takes the opportunity to rid herself of her blue turtleneck, her hands quickly running behind her to rid herself of her own bra.

The Japanese girl is practically drooling at this point, and she is unwilling or unable to wait any longer, dipping her head and placing soft but impatient kisses on Jihyo’s upper chest before trailing her mouth downward and finally capturing the younger girl’s left nipple in her mouth, sucking on the hard bud as she brings one of her hands up and cups the breast towards her lips. Jihyo’s right breast is not left wanting, as Momo quickly cups and squeezes the supple flesh with her free hand.

It’s hot as hell, watching your girlfriend enjoy Jihyo just as you did earlier in the day, and you are frozen for a minute, the same way you were minutes ago when they were making out in the foyer. The two topless girls entwine themselves in each other, Momo happily sucking and licking and kissing every inch of Jihyo’s chest, the detective happy to let her do so, her fingers swirling around the Japanese girl’s long hair as she lets a soft, raw sound of pleasure escape her open lips.

Jihyo presses Momo’s head against her breasts and arches her back in offering to the older girl, her eyes half lidded in pleasure until finally, it’s her turn to invite you as she says, “Are you going to just stand there, or are you going to join us?”

You smile at her echoing of Momo’s earlier words, and you shake the heavy stupor inspired in your senses at the sight of two beautiful, topless young women making out with each other - a menagerie of gentle curves and soft, perfect skin against the background music of gentle sighs and moans of pleasure elicited from willing, lustful bodies.

Giving your head a shake, you quickly rid yourself of your shirt before stepping forward and, deciding there were too many clothes on this bed for your liking, you grasp Momo’s upraised waist with your hands and hook your fingers around the waistband of her leopard patterned sweatpants.

You slip the garment down Momo’s round, raised ass, delighting in the fact that she wasn’t wearing any underwear beneath. Your girlfriend lifts her knees from the bed to let the sweatpants leave her completely, and you smile as you notice she does so without tearing her lips from Jihyo’s chest, so absorbed is she in the Korean girl’s body.

You took it as a personal challenge to wrest Momo’s attention away from the well-endowed detective beneath her, and to that end you drop to your knees, bringing your head in perfect alignment with Momo’s upraised butt. Taking a moment to enjoy the sight of Jihyo’s spread legs pinned beneath Momo, you grasp your girlfriend’s hips with both hands before diving in to her pussy and giving her slit a long, slow lick from bottom to top.

There were times when slow, considerate foreplay was called for; this was not one of those times, not after one of the most stressful weeks of your life. This was a time for drunken, sloppy, careless fucking. Pleasure, not affection, was the goal here.

And so you don’t feel so bad about jumping straight to the point, as it were, eating Momo’s pussy with long, deep licks, her juices already flowing freely thanks to the make out session she had with Jihyo. You are rewarded to hear her let out a long, breathy moan, finally leaving Jihyo’s saliva streaked breasts to arch her back and lean her head back as the first spikes of pleasure begin to radiate from her crotch.

Jihyo lets out a soft, disappointed moan of her own as Momo leaves her chest unattended, and you are fully aware of the younger girl squirming beneath your girlfriend, needing some sort of attention. You bring your right hand from Momo’s hips down to Jihyo’s full thighs, enjoying the feel of her soft, creamy skin of her legs for the first time. Earlier in the afternoon your session in the interrogation room had proceeded to a blowjob and then ended with her titjob; this was your first time pleasuring her directly, and your fingers tingled with anticipation as they approached her squirming, writhing crotch.

Eventually your fingertips brush up against the black cotton of her panties, and you take a little more care than you did with Momo to slowly press against her mound, your middle finger pressing against her already drenched slit through the thin fabric, running your finger tip up and down, enjoying the feel of the garment being saturated with Jihyo’s juices.

All the while you are continuing to tongue Momo’s pussy, and the Japanese girl has calmed down enough from the original rush of pleasure to bend and resume her makeout session with Jihyo, quickly capturing the detective’s lips with her own, pressing her tongue into her welcoming mouth. Her chest presses against the probe Korean girl, and they both enjoy the feel of their breasts mashing against each other.

Simultaneously, you slip your middle and index fingers beneath the drenched cloth of Jihyo’s panties to touch her pussy for the first time, delighting in the feel of her plentiful juices on your fingers before slowly, carefully slipping them further and penetrating her outer lips until you have impaled her with your fingers, first one, then the second, until you are two knuckles deep in the young, writhing detective.

“Fuuuuck,” she moans softly, the single word the most erotic thing in the world. Momo matches it with a moan of her own as your tongue begins to brush against her clit. You take a moment to relish the thought that you were pleasuring two ridiculously beautiful young women at the same time with your mouth and fingers, both of them reduced to mewling, writhing messes by your attentions.

It was time to raise the ante, and you raise your mouth slightly to the tight ring of Momo’s ass, and with the very tip of your tongue you tease the tight ring, eliciting a loud gasp from the Japanese girl that turns into a long, drawn out moan as you start to lick the ring of her ass.

Your fingers have begin to slowly piston in and out of Jihyo’s drenched slit, and it quickly becomes too much for the younger girl to handle.

“Fuck, I… I need him in me now, Momo… can he… can he fuck me?”

“Of course!” Momo gasps, her head thrown back as your tongue finally dives into her ass, “yes… fuck that feels so good… just a little more… yes… then you can fuck her, baby…”

You spend a minute or so pleasuring Momo’s ass with your tongue, not forgetting her needs and unwilling to leave her without the pleasure she deserved. When she lets her head fall back and lets out a long, breathy moan, you take that as a sign that you can move on. And it was well that she let you, because you couldn’t hold yourself back, couldn’t wait a moment longer. You had to have Jihyo, had to indulge in this new, beautiful young woman’s body.

You raise yourself from your knees, quickly divesting yourself of your belt and jeans, your rock hard shaft finally springing free. Momo lifts herself from Jihyo’s body, finally giving you a perfect view of the younger Korean girl lying on the bed, her legs spread wide in a wanton display.

She was more voluptuous and curvy than Momo, with more meat on her full thighs, round butt, and those wonderful breasts that currently sat proudly on a chest that was heaving with the promise of impending pleasure. Despite this she was still very fit, with strong, toned limbs and a tight stomach that was only slightly less defined than Momo’s.

Momo takes it upon herself to divest the wanton detective of her last article of clothing, pulling the drenched panties from Jihyo’s hips and down her legs, leaving the three of you finally naked.

“Fuck me, please… fuck me.”

You don’t want to leave the naked, utterly gorgeous young woman waiting, and so you take your shaft in your right hand and line it up with Jihyo’s absolutely drenched pussy lips before pressing forward slightly, leaving the head of your cock embedded between her splayed lips. Jihyo’s left hand reaches forward to your forearm, seeking some sort of further contact with you, her fingers gripping your wrist tightly. Momo is lying on her side on the bed beside the Korean girl, caressing her right arm and watching intently as you press your hips forward.

All three of you let a gasp out as you finally enter Jihyo’s body, your thick, hard shaft spearing into the young detective, her pussy squeezing every single inch of your body as you begin to fuck her for the first time.

Jihyo is tight, but like Choa she was extremely wet, her thick, slick juices quickly covering your shaft with her honey, making each successive thrust into her young body easier and easier.

“Oh… oh god… oh god, that feels so good!”

You bring your arms to Jihyo’s soft, thick thighs, enjoying the feel of her soft skin beneath your palms; but nothing compares to the feel of her wetness around your shaft as you fuck her with increasing pace, your hips settling into a soft and easy rhythm.

Momo is not idle, taking only a second to enjoy the sight of you making your first thrusts into the wanton young woman before she returns to Jihyo’s lips, kissing her deeply before bringing her mouth to the detective’s ear.

“Do you like… how he’s fucking you? Do you like having him inside you? Do you like having his thick, hard cock fucking that wet little pussy of yours?”

“Yes! Yes! oh god, yes!” is the breathy reply.

Jihyo’s gasps only inspire you to fuck her harder. You lose yourself in her body, spreading her thighs apart further, seeking to drive yourself as deep as you possibly could inside the young detective.

“Yes… oh god… you feel so good inside me,” she says, locking eyes with you as you continue to piston in and out of her body, “fuck me… yes… fuck me!”

“You like that, detective? You like being fucked?”

“Yes… fuck.. I… I wish you could both fuck me… at the same time… oh, god!”

A devilish smile crosses Momo’s face, and you tense at the sight of it, knowing that she only ever got that look when she had a truly dirty thought in mind.

“Maybe there’s a way we can do that,” she says, before hopping off the bed, “Go lie down against the headboard, baby. And Jihyo, go ride him,” she adds, as though she were speaking about something as mundane as the weather.

You are happy to let Momo dictate what was about to happen next. You give Jihyo one last, deep thrust, eliciting a sharp gasp from the young Korean, before withdrawing your absolutely dripping cock from her body. The hotel room light glistens all over the shiny juices lathered all over your shaft as you climb onto the bed and lean against the headboard. Jihyo wastes no time, her eyes completely lost in lust as she straddles you as soon as she is able, reaching between your bodies to line up your cock with her dripping pussy before she impales herself on it, gasping loudly at the feel of your shaft inside her once again.

Jihyo is riding you fiercely when you notice that Momo has come back onto the bed, and you are momentarily distracted by the Korean girl’s large, bouncing breasts in front of your face before you realize that Momo is holding something in her hands. You smile, almost as devilishly as Momo did moments earlier, when you realize what it is. You lean forward and capture one of Jihyo’s bouncing breasts in with your mouth, capturing the hard nipple between your lips as Jihyo continues to ride you.

Momo straddles your legs just behind Jihyo, before bringing her mouth to the Korean girl’s ear.

“Have you ever… taken it in the ass, detective?”

“I… I... “ Jihyo struggles to get a sentence together as she bounces up and down on your shaft, finally slowing down and satisfying herself by grinding against your shaft long enough to fully compose a response, “I have… but never… at the same time… as in my pussy.”

“First time for everything,” Momo says, and the surprised look that widens Jihyo’s eyes and mouth is all the confirmation you need to know what was happening between Momo and Jihyo’s bodies.

The object in Momo’s hands is a long, rubber dildo, and she has begun to press the lubricated head against Jihyo’s ass - it proves difficult at first, given that Jihyo was so absorbed in riding you, but the detective finally slows down as she catches on to what was happening and what Momo wanted to do.

“You want this?” Momo asks, her tone all sultry sexiness.

“Yes.. fuck yes… fuck my ass while he fucks my pussy… give it to me!”

Momo pushes the dildo forward, and both you and Jihyo almost shout in pleasure at the new sensation; Jihyo at the feeling of being penetrated in both of her lower holes at once, and you at the feel of the hard dildo pressing against your own shaft between the thin inner walls dividing Jihyo’s pussy from her ass.

Jihyo is soon a shuddering, writhing mess, unable to ride you with the same intensity she was moments earlier given the sheer pleasure coursing through her body at the two hard shafts invading her body simultaneously as you and Momo slowly push in and out of her body, you with your cock and Momo with the hard rubber dildo she is thrusting by hand in and out of Jihyo’s tight ass.

Minutes pass, you and Jihyo struggling to maintain some semblance of coherency amidst the storm of pleasure overtaking both of your bodies. Momo, for her part, seemed to enjoy the act almost as much as the both of you, perhaps due to the sinfulness of it, the lewdness of double penetrating a young woman and turning her into a trembling, quivering, near incoherent mess of pleasure.

Jihyo was indeed just that - a mess.

The detective is long past caring what she looked like, so lost is she in the feel of being filled in both her holes - her mouth stays open as she lets out a long, wordless stream of pleasure leave her throat, a thin stream of drool escaping from the corner of her lips. She didn’t even care to swallow, didn’t care how she looked as you and Momo had your way with her; all she cared about was the long, hard shafts penetrating her body, and the pleasure coursing through every nerve in her body.

Jihyo tight, absolutely drenched pussy alone was enough to make you cum, but with the feel of Momo’s dildo pressing against the underside of your shaft even as it pistoned in and out of Jihyo’s warm, slick pussy - it was so new, so different to anything you had ever experienced, that it drove you quickly to orgasm. You would be embarrassed by how quickly you were going to cum, if you weren’t so utterly lost in the pleasure of overcoming your senses.

“I’m gonna fucking cum,” you almost shout, unable to maintain any sort of composure.

“Fuck! Fuck! Oh, fuck… fuck! Oh god, I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna cum so hard!” Jihyo yells, unable to contain any sort of decorum amidst the assault of the two shafts in her body, each one sending unbearable shocks of pleasure coursing throughout her body until she finally reaches that wonderful, incomparable plateau of orgasm.

In under a minute Jihyo is orgasming, and you are almost afraid with the way her entire body shakes so violently as she cums. Her pussy tightens exponentially around you, and you join her in orgasmic bliss as your shaft pulsates and sends thick, hot semen into her already drenched body.

Jihyo yelps with each spurt of cum you send into her pussy, and the three of you freeze in momentary bliss, happily enjoying the pleasure coursing throughout your bodies. You aren’t sure when, but eventually, Jihyo gasps as Momo removes the thick dildo from her ass; slowly, she slumps to the side to lie next to you, her absolutely exhausted body completely drained of energy by the strength of her orgasm.

“Damn,” Momo says as she tosses the purple dildo over the side of the bed, “I wanted his load.”

Jihyo is a quivering mess lying on the bed next to you, your thick seed leaking out from between her legs onto the bed sheets. Somehow, she finds the strength to lie on her back and spread her legs, reaching down with the index and middle fingers of her left hand to splay apart the drenched lips of her cum filled pussy, revealing a thick stream of semen leaking from her freshly fucked opening.

“You can still have it.”

You once again find yourself watching with rapt fascination as Momo wastes no time in diving between Jihyo’s spread legs, her ass raised temptingly in the air as her head descends to Jihyo’s crotch. A few seconds later, the loud, breathy gasp that escapes Jihyo’s throat tells you exactly what your girlfriend is doing between the young detective’s legs.

It’s not the first time you are content to watch Momo devour some part of Jihyo’s body, and you are happy to lie there in your blissful, post orgasm haze, enjoying the chorus of soft moans emanating from Jihyo’s lips combined with the wonderful sight of Momo’s face working between her thick, full thighs. The sight of Momo’s upraised butt and the graceful curve of her bent spine, however, quickly rekindle the embers of arousal in your loins.

Next to you, Jihyo is mostly a quivering, mewling mess as Momo continues to quite literally suck your semen from her pussy - but she seems cogent enough to reach over with a slim hand and wrap her palm around your rapidly re-hardening shaft, still slick and wet with your juices and hers.

“Go fuck your girlfriend,” she says softly, pausing only shortly as Momo gives her a particularly deep lick, “I think she deserves cum inside her too.”

Jihyo’s words, and the wonderful sight of her naked, flushed body next to you, bring you to back to full hardness. Raising yourself from the bed, you quickly maneuver behind Momo’s raised ass, and line up your shaft with her wet, pink pussy.

You take a moment to lock eyes with Jihyo, her face awash with pleasure, her naked breasts heaving heavily, her full thighs pink and quivering around Momo’s head. Your eyes drink in the sight of her voluptuous, full figure; perfectly proportioned, curves where she needed them, thin and fit where she needed to be. But Momo rarely left your thoughts for long, and grasping your slick shaft, you press it against the Japanese girl’s entrance and begin to fuck her.

As you already established, this wasn’t a time for slow, considerate lovemaking, and after just a half dozen moderate thrusts you quickly find a stable, solid rhythm, pistoning in and out of Momo’s familiar but no less arousing body. With each thrust into her body her torso is rocked forward, and Momo flows with the rhythm, letting your thrusts move her tongue as she places it flat against Jihyo’s pussy, rubbing wetly against the Korean girl’s exposed clit.

Both girls gasp and moan with each of your thrusts into Momo’s body; the low, breathy moan that escapes Momo’s throat sends delicious vibrations through her tongue and straight to Jihyo’s exposed clit, and soon she is joining Momo’s chorus of gasps and moans as you continue to fuck her.

It doesn’t take Momo very long to near orgasm, her body already having been wound up with tense anticipation from your oral work and the unique experience of fucking Jihyo’s ass with the dildo.

In the back of your pleasure-addled mind you realize that this is the first time you’d had sex with Momo since the episode with Sana, and you’d yet to really talk to her about it. But you also remembered her demand earlier in the day for a hard fucking, and that’s what you were going to give her.

You abandon all pretense of gentleness, grasping Momo’s full hips with both hands and hammering in and out of her body as quickly as you are able, the loud slap of wet skin hitting wet skin vying against breathy moans and gasps for the loudest sounds in the room. Eventually Momo buries her head in Jihyo’s neck, welcoming the loving embrace of the Korean girl as her bodies continues to be rocked by your thrusts.

She didn’t have time, or energy, to announce her orgasm like she usually did; the only sound that escapes her throat is a long, pleasureable moan that is muffled by Jihyo’s neck as her pussy tightens around you and begins to pulsate, and a single, short phrase, just two simple words.

“Fill me.”

You follow her into orgasm as you cum, not as strongly as with Jihyo - but more than making up for it was the emotional attachment you had to Momo, and your desire to pleasure her, and your relief that she was back in your life, and it leant your orgasm extra strength.

As your shaft pulsates and fires thick streams of semen into her body, Momo quivers and trembles, finally receiving what she had desired for so long. When you are done she slumps forward into Jihyo’s waiting arms, completely overcome with exhaustion.

You take a moment to watch them there, both breathing heavily with exhaustion, both perfect pictures of the female form, all full curves and perfect, flawless skin over perfectly sculpted bodies and beautiful, alluring faces. Your more lewd side admires the naked breasts, and the flushed crotches and the thick trickles of your semen flowing from both of their freshly fucked pussies. You cannot help but be truly thankful for this moment in your life.

Eventually you join the two women in bed, Momo snuggled up against your chest, Jihyo’s back pressed against your side as she makes your biceps a pillow.

All your troubles, the worries about Momo and Sana, the fact that Irene was still on the loose, the identity of whoever sent her that warning about her data - it all fled your mind as you relished the feel of two warm, beautiful women sleeping next to you. Sleep came quickly and easily soon after.

—-

On a dark alleyway in Seoul, Park Choa and Yoo Jeongyeon are walking with arms linked as they leave a central street and take a shortcut through a residential neighbourhood to their hotel. Seolhyun had parted ways with them a few minutes ago, and while she had offered the two of them the use of her spare guest room, Choa and Jeongyeon were happy to head back to the hotel on their own.

“He really is that good,” Choa is saying, her words made slow and drawn out by one too many drinks, “sometimes it’s hard to walk straight afterwards.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Once we did it right before a team meeting. Like, five minutes before. And JYP sat right where he was sitting while we were fucking. The whole time I could barely keep a straight face. Not to mention I was a bit of a mess down there…”

“Geez, unnie!”

“Yeah… we have a pretty pleasurable... arrangement. But beyond that, he’s a good friend. He will fight for us, no matter what happens. And that’s good to know, considering the shady people we’re fighting these days.”

“I know,” Jeongyeon agrees, “When I took this job I figured I’d be formatting servers and installing Windows upgrades all day. I never thought I’d be working with the police in Seoul to capture corporate criminals!”

Choa nods to herself, a soft smile on her face as she agrees.

“We’re doing the right thing,” she says, “Those Red Velvet chicks are real pieces of work. They hurt him. They’re lucky we were offsite when the arrest went down, otherwise I’d be tearing Wendy a new one.”

“I don’t doubt it, unnie. I bet he had to hold Momo back from ripping her head off.”

Choa chuckles, knowing it was probably true.

“Speaking of which…” Jeongyeon begins, “what does Momo have to say about your… work arrangement?”

“She doesn’t mind. She knows all about it, in fact, and she thinks it’s hot.”

“Lucky guy,” Jeongyeon says, “I kind of assumed he was sleeping with the other girls on the team, but I didn’t think it was with Momo’s permission.”

“It totally is. I think Momo gets off on it.”

“Dammit,” Jeongyeon answers, “I’m jealous. I wish he looked at me the way he looks at you guys.”

“What are you waiting for? If you’re worried about Momo, believe me, she won’t be an issue. And you’re kind of a cutie. Some guys like guys’ girls.”

“Hmm,” the young girl says with a blush, “but I don’t think I’m his type. You’re all gorgeous. Sana and Momo belong on fashion runways. Tzuyu is a fucking walking work of art.”

“And what about your unnie!?” Choa gasps in feigned anger.

“You belong in K-pop MVs and movies, unnie!” Jeongyeon answers, and the two giggle to themselves as they continue to walk.

Their conversation soon turns to happy, lighthearted things, the alcohol in their bloodstream making them less aware of their surroundings. And so when two shadowy figures emerge from a nearby alley and press poisoned cloths to their mouths that quickly render them unconscious, they are powerless to resist.

The two figures, women in black clothing, carry their unconscious bodies into a waiting van and pile in after. The driver, a man, closes the door and jumps into the driver’s seat before driving off with the loud squeal of rubber on asphalt.

—-

Your vibrating phone, in the pocket of your long discarded jeans, wakes you up.

It takes you awhile to untangle yourself from the web of female limbs encircling your body, but eventually you manage to extricate yourself from Momo and Jihyo’s naked, warm bodies without walking them up. You finally reach your buzzing phone and answer.

“...Hello?”

“Hey,” says the soft female voice on the other line, “it’s Mina.”

“Oh, hey, Mina. What’s up?”

“Sorry for calling you at this hour, I’m sure it’s stupid o’clock over there right now. But I thought you needed to know as soon as possible.”

“What’s going on?” you answer, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you try to mentally prepare yourself for whatever she was about to say.

“You asked me to bring in Sana and Tzuyu for questioning,” Mina begins, her tone heavy, “and I called and messaged them both… but they’re gone.”

It takes you a moment to comprehend what she’s saying.

“What do you mean, they’re gone?”

“They didn’t answer my calls, texts, or DMs. I dropped by your apartment to check on Tzuyu, and no one’s there. Same with Sana’s place.”

You stand there in stunned silence, rubbing your forehead, trying to make sense of the news.

“And that’s not all,” Mina continues, “There’s been activity on their company credit cards. They bought two plane tickets… to Seoul.”

“What…?”

“They’re on their way to you,” Mina finishes.

You are still composing a response, some sort of answer to this latest news, when your phone buzzes. You excuse yourself from Mina to look at it. It’s from an unknown number, and even after reading it several times, you are still stunned into silence at what it could mean.

You take two of mine, I’ll take two of yours.

#kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #Smut #pov smut #male reader #twice #twice momo #twice jihyo #hirai momo #park jihyo

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divinewhimsy · 4 years

Text

Ichor (DabixReader) Pt.2

Aaaah. Not that it was mega popular before but I’m having fun writing it. Dabi is more of my view of him rather than what I’ve seen him written like but I’m sure as I write for him more I’ll improve. Nevertheless, enjoy!

As always, Trigger warning for blood!

Part 1: X

Part 3: X

Enjoy~!

You thought he would attack upon first waking up. That he would spring into action and immediately burn you to a crisp. All that would be left of you would be ashes or crispy pieces of flesh flaking away in the wind for him to season his dinner with. Death should have been imminent.

What you didn’t expect was him to groan and puke all over your floor. The hot vomit staining your carpet, bile leaking into your hardwood floors as he rolls off the couch and onto the ground. He’s gritting his teeth and panting, squeezing as much air as he can into his lungs before more acid spills from his mouth.

And you’re just standing there. Wide eyed and unsure. What were you supposed to do? What are you supposed to do? The man you had healed and then subsequently taken hostage is now puking on your floor and you’re just staring at him.

What did you do to him? Could this be the overloading of your quirk? Is he allergic to blood? Can he not stand the taste?

Wait- if he couldn’t stand the taste then it would have been evident back when he was still bleeding to death. To have a reaction now is a secondary side effect. You tense as he tugs at the bandages around his head and tears them off. His lips part as he huffs and gulps down unrestricted access to oxygen. He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, the clink of the catching staples the only noise beyond his heaving.

“Are you just going to stare?” he growls quietly and you meet his gaze.

Those cerulean eyes are staring into your soul again. The lively energy ripping away at your insides as he fixes you with a steady glare. He must still be mad. You did do this to him, after all.

You don’t say anything and instead turn down the small hallway toward the bathroom. You grab the first few towels in the cabinet beneath the sink and rush back to the living room. You mop up the acidic liquid with the fluffy towels, grimacing at the smell and touch as some of it coats the back of your knuckles. The stranger moves out of your way eventually, his knees and the bottom hem of his shirt coated with the bile. He rests his head against the seat of the sofa and closes his eyes.

Steadying his breath, he sits still as you pick up the dirtied towels and toss them into the dirty clothes pile near the small washer and dryer you have in the far corner of your small kitchen area. You grab a small washcloth on your way back and wet it with cool water. Ringing it out slightly but keeping it damp you make your way toward the stranger and cautiously dab his mouth.

His reflexes are quick to catch you, his hand on your wrist with the same blazing warmth as before. His eyes snap open and the rage within them freezes over the heat he emits. A snarl starts to crawl up his lips as he flicks his gaze to the cloth and back to your face. But just as quickly as he snatched your wrist he lets go with a huff and glances away.

You’re not sure if it's a sign to continue or to back away but you’re not about to back down now. You did do this to him, after all. The guilt is writhing in your stomach as you watch him. Even if you’re on your knees beside him and trying to help- the hateful gleam in his eyes makes you feel smaller than even a speck of dust.

Despite the fact you kidnapped him. Which he hasn’t seemed to fully process just yet.

“You’re starting to stare holes into my face.” he seethes and his gaze glues back to yours. “Out with it.”

“Oh.” you swallow and back away a bit from him. “I wasn’t sure if you were okay with me still helping or not.”

He takes a deep breath and runs a hand down his face slowly. After it falls from his chin and to his lap he shoves it toward you, palm up to the ceiling.

“Give me the damn rag.” he growls quietly and you oblige happily.

He runs the damp cloth down his face carefully and you watch as he tenderly dabs at the spots near his staples keeping his burnt skin connected.

‘It must be difficult..’ you think to yourself as you watch him curiously. With all those...Piercings? Staples? Did they really hold his skin up like that? Are they just for show or do they actually have a purpose? Do they hurt as much as it looks like they do? Questions filter through your mind rapidly and you find his gaze torn back to yours begrudgingly.

“What?” he sighs.

“Do they hurt?” you mumble and motion toward his cheekbones and the staples that sit there. “The staples?”

“Is it any of your damn business?”

“It was just a question.” you sigh and accept the rag he shoves back to you.

He watches as you stand and drop the cloth back with the other towels. You pause near the kitchen and grab a bottle of water from your fridge. You hand it to him as you sit awkwardly to his left on the couch.

What are you doing, treating him like a guest and not some hostage? Your damn impulses are going to get you into some serious trouble one day. Maybe that day is actually today.

He just grunts as he takes the bottle and tears off the cap. He gulps down the water greedily, streams of the liquid spilling from the corners of his mouth as he doesn’t stop to breathe.

He must have been really thirsty. Could it be another side effect?

He tosses the empty bottle to the ground and huffs again. You watch as he stretches his legs out underneath the coffee table and rests his head completely against the cushion beside you. His eyes search your face with a bored expression, the dull look in his eyes nothing like the fire that had been burning before.

“What did you do to me.” he demands quietly. “Why can’t I use my quirk? Did you erase it?”

“Erase it?” you quirk a brow. “I can’t do that.”

“Then what the hell did you do?”

“I told you before. I healed your dying ass.” you grumble. “I’m not sure why any of...this is happening now.” you motion toward the wooden floor damp with his bile.

He falls quiet and rolls his eyes.

“You better find a new line, doll. I’m getting tired of the same shit answer.”

“If I had a better one I might consider giving it to you.” you sneer and cross your arms over your chest. “But here’s the deal. No one can know about my quirk.”

“Are you really in any position to make demands?”

“Are you?” you push back.

He doesn’t answer.

“Exactly.” you mumble. “I’ve been hidden too long with this power doing what little I can to help those I get to. If word gets out about it there’s no way I’d be able to continue living my peaceful, dull life. I don’t know what your name or your mission is but I want no part in it. I don’t care if you’re a villain or a hero or a vigilante. All I care about is you keep quiet.”

“So you kidnap me?” he scuffs. “Not a very heroic thing to do. Sounds a little villainous, doll face.”

“I never said I was a hero or a villain.” you spit back. “I just want to live my life in peace. If that means I have to keep you here until you agree then so be it.”

“So my quirk being gone isn’t an accident. You’re keeping me powerless on purpose.”

“No. I was telling the truth when I told you this has never happened before. I’ve never had someone’s quirk disappear and I’ve never kidnapped someone.” you mumble the last part and avoid looking at his face.

“Well this blows.” he sighs. “Not that I’m buying into your bullshit but let’s pretend I do. What now? You want my silence, I want my quirk back. What are you going to do about it?”

“I don’t know-”

“Errrrrrrrrr.�� he makes a loud buzzing noise. “Try again.”

“I already told you that I have no idea why it-”

Another loud buzzing noise, the error sound pouring from his lips as he jabs a thumb down. You steel your nerves and collect yourself. You can’t let this bastard get to you. Not if you want his silence.

If he wants his quirk back he’ll have to remain here until it returns. It’s the only way to monitor the differences between him and the others you’ve used your own abilities on. As much as you despise the idea you can’t think of a better one where you’re both satisfied.

Compromise. That’s all this is.

“Fine. As much as I detest the idea,” you hiss, “the only way I can think to solve both of our issues is for you to stay here so I can monitor the effects. If I keep an eye on your vitals and compare the differences to past recipients I might be able to figure out how to reverse the change. The only way to do that and not attract attention is for you to stay here until I can reverse the...incident.”

The man falls back to silence and you wonder if he ever even heard you in the first place. Is he ignoring you? Is he doing this just to get under your skin? If he thinks for one second that being a child and acting so impishly is the way to solve this issue then he’ll have to regain more than just his quirk when you knock him senseless!

“Fine.” he groans after several moments. “If you get me my quirk back then I’ll think about not letting your stupid secret slip. Not that I give two shits about it to begin with.”

You release a breath you never realized you were holding. Good. So at least he’s intelligent to recognize a good compromise when it falls in his lap. As much as you don’t like the idea of the stranger staying here..

“I don’t know your name.” you say quietly. “What should I call you?”

“I never got your name either, sweetheart.” he yawns and casts a lazy glance your way. “You first.”

UGH.

“You can call me Ichor. It’s what I tell other people I’ve helped to call me.”

“Ichor? That’s what you’re going with?” he sneers.

“Oh? And I suppose you have something better you go by?”

“Dabi.” he breathes and rests his elbows against the cushion.

Well at least he has no trouble making himself at home. Ignoring the admittedly interesting name he gave you to call him you uncross your legs impatiently.

“Considering you just emptied your stomach I’m going to bank on the fact you don’t want something to eat?” you sigh and stand from the couch.

“Nah.” he shrugs and you take a deep breath.

You can do this. Your quirk will probably fade from him in a couple of hours and then everything will go back to normal. No stranger living in your house, no worries about any of your business getting out into the world.

“Tell me about your quirk.” he pipes up and gets to his feet, following behind you.

“Take your boots off.” you scuff and look down at his dirty leather boots.

What sounds like a frustrated breath releases from him before he balances on one foot and tugs his boot off, tossing it toward the door and missing completely. It lands halfway between the kitchen and the living room, dropped on its side.

You raise a brow and glance back at him as he tugs his other one off and tosses it just as carelessly. You pray his feet won’t stink judging but the amount of dirt in the boots.

“Your quirk?” he presses and hops onto one of the barstools by the island.

“I can heal others by them consuming some part of me. It enhances their bodies to repair damage done physically- even mortal wounds that can kill. Beyond that it boosts their bodies. Quirks, senses, it’s like a shot of fast acting steroids. But I have to willingly give them the part they consume. Blood works the best.”

“So kinda like a reverse vampire?” he mocks and you pointedly ignore the quiet chuckle he gives.

“If that’s how you wish to see it.” you seethe. “I can over produce blood, as well. My body makes it rapidly so there are times I must take it upon myself to drain the excess.”

You open your fridge and motion toward the bags of blood waiting to be used.

“If I were to drink one now would you still have control of it’s boosts?” he nods toward them as you grab a handful of ingredients to start cooking.

“Yes. They hold my essence. Although they’re not in my body currently they’re still pieces of myself.”

“What about the effects it has on you?”

“I can’t give myself a boost, if that’s what you mean.” you furrow your brows as you start filling a pot full of water and bring it over to the stove.

You set the burner on medium and move to wash the vegetables you grabbed before. You scrub each one diligently as he tosses questions at you.

“Can you bring someone back to life?”

“I don’t know.” you sigh. “I’ve never tried. The people I reach are still alive by some standard.”

You hate giving up this much info about your quirk but you need to. In order to get him out of your hair.

Although you’re not sure if you can trust him to keep the secret.

“What if I was dead?” he ponders and you glance over your shoulder at him.

“No. I would have known.”

“Oh, so you’re an expert in all things life and death?” he rolls his eyes. “Look sweet cheeks, you’re not a professional. You’re going off of experience. You can’t honestly tell me I wasn’t dead.”

“Expert or no,” you hiss. “I know death when I see. I know death like the back of my hand. I’ve fought it off with my quirk. I know the fringes of fleeting life well enough to know if someone is capable of being saved or not. I haven’t tried with someone where I didn’t feel those frayed ends. And when I got to you I still could feel the threads there.”

“Alright so what is different? Did you do something you normally don’t when saving some other poor bastard?”

“No.” you shake your head and pause. “Well, maybe. Normally I bring the bags of extra blood with me. I don’t normally give directly from the source. Maybe it’s too potent? Or maybe it’s the oxidation process that changes it? If the blood in the bags is exposed longer than perhaps without that long of an exposure it’ll change the properties.”

“Well it’s good to know you don’t normally go around bleeding on people.” Dabi scuffs and you sigh.

“What about you, hm? What's different now compared to when you normally summon your quirk?”

“Besides the fact it doesn’t appear?” he sneers. “When I first woke up my senses were in overdrive. I thought it could have been because of the adrenaline of fighting and waking up after being knocked out. But when my quirk started...acting on it’s own, it flickered outside of my control. I could feel my body temperature rise higher than it normally does but the flames wouldn’t follow. It was suffocating.”

Overdrive.. That was definitely your quirk in action. It’s like steroids on steroids to any quirk user- when it’s not from the source directly. If it was less contained and more chaotic, it’s possible his quirk is too powerful to be contained in the state it put him in.

You turn over your arm to look at the wrist you had sliced open to feed him. The skin is puffy and red with use- and to your surprise- there’s a scar. A large, thin line that pulls from the bottom of your palm to two inches into your forearm. You can see your veins wrap around it unpleasantly, the blood running through you throbbing in your heart. But it’s interesting as you look at it further, noticing branches emitting from the scar. Has it always been so treelike?

“You can control it, right?” Dabi interrupts your thoughts and you blink back to reality, turning to face him across the island.

“Yes.” you nod.

“Take it away from me.” he orders and you furrow your brows.

“If I do that you could end up right back where you were before-”

“You’ve already done that. You put me out, girlie. But you didn’t take it all away, did you?”

You swallow nervously and hold your breath.

“I won’t take it all.” you shake your head. “I don’t want to be the reason you die if I do.”

“How sweet. But I’m not asking.” he snaps. “Do it.”

You turn your gaze to him but your anger doesn’t rise up. It doesn’t flood your system as it should. You summon your quirk, pulling at the threads that connect Dabi to you. They’re still there. You give one a tug and watch as nothing happens. He doesn’t even blink. Did it drain his energy? Or does he not feel it?

You tug another back into your wrist and watch in silence as he blinks at you.

“You’re doing it, aren’t you?” he grumbles. “Your eyes...they go red.”

You snag three more threads and his body slumps lower, his chest heaving in air as your mind grows dizzy. To pull it back so quickly and twice in one day is beyond what you normally do. Taking it away isn’t something you normally do- it’s requiring much more energy than it does to give it.

But you push through.

Three more strings curl back into your arm and your body threatens to give out from under you. You can feel your lungs ache for air but you can’t summon them to pull it in. You can barely focus on the scene before you as your eyelids dip dangerously close to shutting.

“I can’t-” you gasp and release the threads you took from his body, the snap of them between you two causing both of you to tremble in the aftershocks.

“Lack of experience or consciousness?” Dabi sucks in a breath.

“Both?” you murmur and stumble to turn the stove off before you let your body slink to the ground. “I’ve never had to take it back.”

“I think I’m gonna nap.” Dabi grumbles and sluggishly wobbles over to the couch before he drops down on it face first.

You’re inclined to agree but your legs won’t move. Your body is demanding rest as you coil back down into yourself, the taught threads between you and Dabi tangling together into one as you lose yourself to slumber.

#dabi #dabixreader #dabi x y/n #dabi x reader #bhna #mha #dabi boku no hero academia #dabi my hero academia #my hero academia #boko no hero academia #ichor

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robbyrobinson · 3 years

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OWL HOUSE x CTHULHU MYTHOS CROSSOVER: GODS AWAKEN

(Pt. I)

“Come on, class,” the teacher announced in a stern voice.

On that day, a class from Hexside School of Magic and Demonics was on a field trip sponsored by the potion's coven. It was to a museum that purported to be a documentation of the history of the Boiling Isles. The students walked in an orderly line behind their teacher who himself followed the tour guide, a small rabbit like creature with a bow tie.

“If you look all around you, you can see that several of these creatures had managed to bleed out of our world and into others.”

The tour guide pointed to different anomalies some stuffed, others mounted on the walls. Griffins were suspended from the ceiling mimicking their movements in life; vampires were placed in tanks fashioned as coffins. Within those tanks were a green-yellow liquid supposedly to preserve their corpses and to keep them from getting exposed to light. Large tarantulas were placed in an array aligning the floors which led to artificial plants and trees.

The tour guide turned his attention to the class. “Are there any questions on your mind?”

One student raised their hand.

“Yes?” the tour guide asked.

The student was a cyclops whose eye nearly engulfed his face. “What is that one over there?”

“Where are you looking at, kid?” the tour guide inquired.

The student pointed his finger towards the far end of the room. The tour guide squinted his eyes to process what he was being directed to and slowly recognized the sight before him.

“Oh, that,” he said, “it was initially meant to have been relocated because of some being fearful that it would be too...troublesome.”

“Well, is it possible that we at least catch a small glimpse of what it is?” the teacher asked, “now that he had raised awareness of it, we cannot simply ignore it.”

The tour guide scratched his chin deep in thought. After pondering it for a few seconds, he sighed. “You have really twisted my arm, but I suppose I can at least tell you the history of it.”

They followed the tour guide towards the site of inquiry. Their eyes widened in amazement: before them towered, a colossal figure wearing attire alien to the witches of the Boiling Isles. It had a massive kilt splayed across its pelvis and reached down to its feet. Upon further inspection, the figure’s eyes were obscured with only its wide maw being visible. Rows of pointed, jagged teeth were littered in its mouth. One could even say that there were actually two rows of teeth, some teeth being so wide and mammoth, the figure’s mouth could not fully close. On the head of the creature, it wore pieces of cloth that came together to form a headpiece. The strands of fabric also rolled down its back.

Another student stepped closer to the figure now realizing that it was a statue. “Who is this?”

The tour guide hopped over. Before he said anything else, he took his finger and drew a circle in the air. A small ball of light formed in his hand. “This being,” he started, “preexisted the Boiling Isles.”

He walked towards the student and illuminated the area with his ball of light. “Thousands of years ago before the Boiling Isles’ recorded history, this being appeared one day seemingly with little rhyme nor reason. He went by many names, but the one he preferred the most was Nyarlathotep.”

Around the statue of Nyarlathotep were murals depicting the Boiling Isles at different points in its development. He was prominently on display one mural in particular being the most disconcerting. A red ball of fire appeared before a small group of witches. Behind the ball was a long, spindling tail. From the look of horror on the witches’ faces, the event was not met with warm reception.

“Where he came from no one knows,” the tour guide emphasized, “but what he did do next proved to be for our good.”

He flashed the light ball in another mural illustrating Nyarlathotep forming a circle and rays of that shape went to the witches. “Long before Emperor Belos and the coven system, Nyarlathotep bestowed the early inhabitants magic.”

The students looked at themselves. They were never once told by their parents or their teachers that a being likely from another dimension granted them magic. And certainly not the notion that it preexisted the Isles itself.

The guide seemed to know what they were thinking. “This information was initially removed from the historical records and was only accessible to the most secretive of archives.”

“What is happening there?” the teacher asked.

They saw murals depicting the children of the early natives being tied to stakes and set ablaze before Nyarlathotep. The smoke of the mass fires danced around him. Inscriptions of ancient rituals detailing the sacrifices accompanied the grizzly imagery. But in return for the sacrifices, Nyarlathotep conjured rainclouds that poured down on the witches.

“It was best understood that the people of the Isles were indebted to their god,” the tour guide clarified, “so they offered him their own flesh and blood in order for Nyarlathotep to continue providing them with blessings.”

The teacher scanned the inscriptions but could not process what they were alluding to. “What happened to those that refused?” He shrugged. “I mean, surely some would be opposed to that.”

The tour guide frowned. “Oh, yes; there were some who obviously had misgivings with his demands. But that is what happened to them.”

He lifted the light ball higher revealing the bigger picture. Villages that Nyarlathotep visited were razed to the ground with their dark god being the perpetrator behind the senseless assaults. Each mural depicted the same thing: witches standing up to oppose him only to be immediately quashed. In each mural, Nyarlathotep was in a different form some resembling winged beasts and satyrs. Sometimes Nyarlathotep would merely send gusts of wind to topple houses and buildings.

“Everywhere Nyarlathotep went, death was almost always a guarantee,” the tour guide said, “people were not even safe in their dreams for he would send madness-inducing nightmares into their subconscious safe haven. It would remain that way until one day, someone stood up for the children of the Isles.”

A hooded figure stood before the dark figure without any weapon or army to assist them. Nyarlathotep shot his dark power towards the figure only for it to be reflected onto him. After a lengthy battle, Nyarlathotep’s imboding figure was licked away until he was cornered by the hooded figure and a few of the witches. With his power stripped away, Nyarlathotep was fired on with his own magic and was encased in a glass prison.

“And so, thanks to this mysterious stranger, the Boiling Isles was freed from Nyaralthotep’s tyranny and he was encased in this glass prison that you see here.”

The light danced on Nyaralathep’s glass case. “But before he was made to slumber, Nyarlathotep threatened that he would return once the thousand-year imprisonment reached its end and that he would send someone to act as his representative until he returned to full power.”

The cyclops noticed a book.

“Oh, that book?” the tour guide observed, “the hooded figure wrote the book and told for one of his countrymen to hide it far out of the reach of any of Nyarlathotep’s followers; inside that book, he had the magical incantation that could return Nyarlathotep to his full power.” The tour guide closed his hands over the light ball. “It was said that more copies of this book exist, but I suppose one should take the entire story with a grain of salt.”

He clapped his hands together to get the class’s attention. “Now, who wants to learn about different types of poison?”

They cheerfully applauded and followed after the tour guide. The teacher dragged his feet trying to follow suit. “Wait, guys, what did I say about an orderly line?”

The history exhibit became deathly silent not too long after they left. But in their excitement, no one noticed that a crack on the statue’s torso was forming.

(More to come)

#cthulhu mythos #nyarlathotep #the owl house #'owl house #owl house #fanfiction #luz noceda #fanfic #lovecraft

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thekidultlife · 4 years

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“Only Us” | TROS Spinoff Pt. 2 | Yoon Jeonghan

Author’s Note: You can read this immediately, but for better reading experience, I highly recommend starting at the links below so the characters will grow on you! :) I had to work a little bit harder to focus the story on Jeonghan and the fem!reader who were once passionate, reckless lovers but are now older, more matured parents.

Genre: Angst and smut and a little bit of fluff at the end (not-so-family-friendly, but definitely still about family)

Title Inspiration: I decided to name this story ‘Only Us’ as I was listening to this song from my favorite musical, ‘Dear Evan Hansen’. It strongly described how my characters felt and made decisions in this story, so if you want music to go along with reading this part, I’m leaving the link of the song here: https://youtu.be/s1Evnzkez7o

Word Count: 7,457

TROS Masterlist | before the after-party | the after-party | Ep. 3 | only us

The lights came on in your bedroom, and you heard the door slam shut. Your eyes flew open and you leapt up from the bed, your feet touching the wooden floor so swiftly that you felt the chill of that winter night creeping up your skin. You were wearing nothing but his shirt. Reaching for the robe you had carelessly tossed on the floor earlier, you slowly looked up to see the figure standing by the door.

Your heart hammered within your chest, and the slow ache that had burned inside you, the yearning that had kept you awake for so many nights, was now becoming unbearable by the minute.

You clutched at the silken clothing, and you felt your voice catch as you addressed this intruder before you. “I—I thought you won’t be back until summer—”

“—I got back early.”

The man dropped his suitcase, removed his coat, and fluidly strode toward you, immediately closing the space between you within seconds. His eyes, darkened by a deep longing, could not stop holding your gaze as his hands cupped your face close to his. You wrapped your arms around his neck.

There was a brief silence when time seemed to stop, when everything hushed as the whole world fell away beneath your feet. You could only see Yoon Jeonghan, and he could only see you. There were no words to be said, because your unrelenting eyes said it all.

I missed you, your eyes both said.

The wondrous spell of silence was broken by a groan that escaped Jeonghan’s throat as he bent his head and claimed your lips with an urgency that expressed exactly what his eyes conveyed. Your arms tightened around his waist; you pressed him closer, kneading his rock-hard body into yours as he grabbed fistfuls of your hair to tilt your head up to him. Your knees threatened to buckle as his tongue entered your mouth to deepen the kiss.

You moaned, sudden warmth washing up and down your body, as Jeonghan’s tongue urgently explored and tasted your mouth, before leaving a hot, wet trail from there to that sensitive part of your neck where he loved to make his mark, nipping and biting your soft flesh. You felt yourself melting, desire pooling between your legs.

I missed you, your bodies whispered against each other, moaning and sighing in the pleasure of being pressed into each other.

You closed your eyes in satisfaction as your skin tingled underneath the traces of heat where his tongue had gone over and you let your lips murmur his name as you felt his hands caress your body, barely hidden by the shirt you were wearing. His mouth only stopped working on your throat when you had to take off his sweater. And then he kissed you over and over to make up for that moment when he stopped as you unzipped his jeans. Your hands splayed around the small of his back before reaching for the elastic of his boxers and pulling it down; your hands encircled his hard, pulsing erection, your thumb stroking that part of the tip where he loved being touched. You felt him tremble as your hands enclosed him.

You missed this. You missed him. You missed all of him that you ached for him even as you touched him.

“Love—” he began, but you silenced him with your mouth, leaving your own hot trails in his body until you reached his groin. You knelt and you took him in your mouth, enjoying the fullness of him inside, the exquisite taste of him in your tongue. But before you could pleasure him more, he pulled you up and then gently pushed you onto the bed. His glorious, naked form hovered above you, his hands hanging on his sides for a moment, his eyes beseeching, desperate—and wanting.

“I…I want you now,” he whispered hoarsely, as if his passion could not be contained by his voice.

You slowly lifted your shirt with both hands, letting the material graze your stomach, your breasts and their hardened nipples. Then you got up on your elbows, your lips swollen from his kisses, your gaze unwavering. You tilted your head back and you slowly opened your legs, wet, aching and wanting.

So many nights spent without this man. So many nights spent pining, now culminating to this moment.

“Yoon Jeonghan,” you said softly, “Come to me.”

And he did.

He made love to you all night.

The cold of that winter night did little to quench the fire your lovemaking.

He made love to you like he never had before. He made love to you until every part of him that missed you finally believed that you were now here, truly with him, real, your skin hot against his, writhing and moaning with each thrust and caress and kiss.

When he found his final release, he gave a loud cry and slumped against you, his head resting between your breasts. His panting breaths matched your own.

You heard him whisper your name reverently, over and over, until he fell asleep.

A few hours later, you watched as faint streams of early morning light filled the room. You lay beside him, still awake but fully spent and sated, with his arms and legs wrapped around you, sheets barely covering your naked bodies. Then you turned your head to look at his beautiful, sleeping form, and you thought about how he melded perfectly into you, his flesh pressed upon yours as if you were not two people, but one.

It was then that you tried to say it.

“Yoon Jeonghan,” you began, “I love y—"

You stopped before you could finish it. And you hated yourself for being so afraid of saying it.

But your fears weren’t unfounded. They were real, and they existed because of reasons that caused you to still pull away from this man who you loved so much—

—there. You have said it in your mind.

You loved him.

And you knew you had to tell him on that day.

When he had whispered those words in your ear a year ago, you could not respond to him in kind. But he said he would wait. He would wait and wait and wait, until you were ready to say it back to him.

Because he loved you that much.

Today. You made up your mind to tell him today, as you looked at his peaceful face. But how?

Later that morning, still in bed, as you gasped for breath after his mouth and fingers licked and sucked, stroked and entered you between your legs and sent your body reeling from waves of orgasms, you pulled him up to you and kissed him as gently as you could, tears streaming down your face.

“Yoon Jeonghan,” you said his name between gasps, as sobs wracked your spasming body over and over, “I love you. I love you and I am scared because I love you so much that I am in pain all over when I can’t be with you and when I am with you like this. I am so afraid, very much afraid of what comes after I tell you so, but what I’m saying right now…” you paused after your rush of words, “…is true. I love you. I love you.”

The man on top of you went completely still, his hands on your sides supporting him as he took in your sudden, spontaneous confession. His expression was a mixture of surprise and joy and raw pain at the gravity of your words.

He was no fool. He knew what you meant by being afraid. His face mirrored raw pain at your fear of being with him.

But he was also your lover, and he could feel his heart burning, burning and burning with flames of happiness.

He could not find the words to tell you the explosion of emotions he was experiencing as he processed what you just said, so he bent his head down again and kissed you.

“We will work this out together,” he finally said after you stopped crying, and he lay beside you. “What matters to me more is that we love each other. That is the truth where we will base our next steps upon. Love,” he reached out to stroke your face, “we can happen. It’s not impossible.” He pulled you in, arms protecting you from your thoughts and your fears and what lay ahead. “What matters is us. Only us.”

“Don’t say that so carelessly. Your career could do down the drain if—”

“—I love you,” he whispered in your ear.

Despite the tears that blurred your vision, you saw the deadpan certainty in Yoon Jeonghan’s eyes: the hope, fears, and sheer determination that painted them strongly. And it was then that you knew.

He would do everything to quell your fears.

You let yourself be protected in his embrace.

However, it was unmistakable, that dreadful certainty that swallowed you on the day you said you loved Yoon Jeonghan. The fear that never left your heart as you lay there confirmed it over and over.

You once watched a movie, where the protagonist said that “love changes life”. You loved that line. But what struck you then was the gnawing truth of the words that came next.

“…but life changes love.”

You opened your eyes.

You stopped remembering the past.

You felt a hand holding yours on the side of the bed.

You looked over and saw him.

Yoon Jeonghan. His head resting on an arm, eyes closed. Sleeping.

You studied his face. He had gotten older, as had you. The soft angles on his face have sharpened, but the gentleness for which his features were famous for remained. His hands looked firmer, with a few veins giving color to his otherwise marble-white skin, but they still retained tenderness in their touch. You noted indentations on his left ring finger, and you wondered about the gold band you had slipped into it five autumns ago.

Jeonghan must have sensed that you were awake, because he stirred from his sleep and looked up at you, squinting his eyes.

“Hey,” he greeted sleepily.

You just looked at him.

He then noticed that he was holding your hand. He stared at both your hands for a long time, before gently releasing yours and putting his hands on his lap.

“The doctors said that you’re well enough to recuperate at home, so you have the choice to either stay here or leave at home. Jae Eun is with my sister,” he began. “I’ll pick her up around lunchtime so she could see you here.”

You looked around at the hospital room where you were resting, your scrutiny finally ending at the table where a tray carrying an assortment of food and pills rested.

“Do you need anything?” Jeonghan began again, trying to strike up a conversation. “I could run down to get you—”

“—Can I see Jae Eun now?” you broke in, turning back to Jeonghan. “I want to talk to her about what happened last night.”

“You will be able to talk to her later, like I said,” Jeonghan replied, “but you have to rest first. She will be here later.”

You shook your head. “It was a mistake. Angelo…I told him that he can’t just bend on one knee and pull out a ring like that.” You felt yourself redden the moment you realized that you had just spoken Angelo’s name in Jeonghan’s presence. “Sorry.”

Jeonghan simply shrugged. His expression revealed nothing other than understanding of your situation. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. He’s your boyfriend.”

At that, you didn’t know what to say anymore. You just stared at Jeonghan until he took the cue and saved you both from the awkward silence.

“What happened last night?” he asked, in a gentle but cautious tone. He didn’t want to sound intrusive, just in case you did not feel comfortable talking about what happened.

Which was true. You did not feel comfortable, but this was Jeonghan. He had the right to know.

“I—I fainted,” you lied poorly, knowing full well that Jeonghan knew everything about your panic attacks at this point. “Someone was taking pictures of me again. At night.”

He acknowledged your lie about your condition, but he did not let you go on the other thing you had blurted out. “Again? So what they told me earlier was true,” he said, his voice icy. “Did this… ‘picture-taking’ also happen when Jae Eun was at home with you? Nights?”

You sat up, crossing your arms. You knew where this was going to head, and you steeled yourself for a barrage of questions. “Yes.”

Jeonghan’s eyes were like daggers, sharp and steely. “And you never told me this? That my daughter could have been photographed by gossip rags or stalkers?”

“She’s not the one they’re taking pictures of, Yoon Jeonghan,” you hissed, your eyes also ablaze with anger. “I was the one they always targeted. Not her. And besides, she was always in bed by that time, or at daycare when they follow me around at work, or with you, safe, while they hang out in front of my house and snap away.”

“And how do you know that?” he countered, his tone unrelenting and unforgiving in that moment. “Have you ever gotten hold of one and confirmed it from his very own lips that he did not take pictures of my daughter?”

“Please don’t argue with me about this, Jeonghan,” you sighed, immediately tired after such a short (but rather heated) dialogue. “I know how to protect her when she’s with me.”

Jeonghan looked like he wanted to say far harsher words in reply, but he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “That’s not the point,” he replied crossly. “These matters—they don’t just concern you, even if, like you said, they only targeted you. They also concern Jae Eun, my daughter.” He fixed his gaze on you meaningfully. “Our daughter. All I ask now is that if ever another dangerous situation like this comes up, you call me so I can make sure that I can keep you and Jae Eun safe.” He leaned back on his chair and sighed. “That’s all.”

You felt corrected by his words, but you knew he was right.

“Okay.”

Another silence reigned, but this time, no one broke it.

You took this time to study him.

A few moments ago, you had recalled how passion fueled everything between you and this man. Nights that weren’t spent for sleeping, lazy afternoons where you simply lounged around in your apartment or made love again, and the seemingly endless days that stretched on and on as your work and Jeonghan’s career took over your lives.

You recalled just how you were unable to be away from him for long. You recalled your mutual decision to live together so you could see each other easier, after mere five months of dating. You recalled the sleepless nights you spent waiting for him that spurred you to agree when he asked you to move in with him.

You looked at the man in front of you now, and you realized how much you have changed from the passionate lovers you were once before.

Everything’s different now.

You lay back on your bed and was about to go back to sleep again when Jeonghan spoke again.

“When we agreed to divorce,” Jeonghan said softly, “it wasn’t because you didn’t love me anymore, right?”

You closed your eyes. “No.”

“It was because...” Jeonghan sighed. “...we wanted to keep our daughter away from the limelight.”

“Not the limelight,” you corrected. “But she could not live in a home where dead rats wrapped in gift boxes are a normal occurrence. And just imagine Jae Eun answering angry women’s calls, telling her mom to just die. Or that she shouldn’t be alive.”

Jeonghan was silent for a time.

“That’s the only reason, right, Y/N? And I agreed with you. I agreed with you because the last straw for me came when someone attacked you in the restroom for carrying my child...”

“You did not agree.” A tear fell from your face. “You let me go because I left you. The divorce papers came after. I was the coward who wanted out. I just didn’t want my daughter to be harmed as she grew up.”

“You weren’t a coward.” Even now, Jeonghan was still defending you from yourself. “But no other reason, Y/N?”

You turned to look at him then, your face showing a frustrated expression. “No other than our daughter’s safety. We both agreed about this because the public didn’t really like me, remember? But aside from that...we were happy...” Your head started to hurt. “Why do you keep asking me this?”

“Because I can’t understand why you had to date someone else while raising my daughter away from me,” he said bitterly, his voice breaking. “Is that Angelo less of a risk than I am? Or maybe you just wanted to be free of me entirely this time. Maybe you’ve stopped loving me after all this time apart.”

The sharp edges of his words did you in. “You don’t understand what you’re saying at all.”

“You’re right. I don’t understand. And I don’t think I want to.” You know he didn’t want to cry in front of you, but tears poured out of Jeonghan’s eyes and his body trembled with the effort not to break down in front of you. His voice was full of agony masked with indifference, and you felt it stab through you despite the crueler emotions you know he was trying to curb so as not to hurt you.

“Listen to me.” You reached out automatically to console him, but he looked away.

“I agreed to this arrangement no matter how hard it was for me because you’re right. We have to raise our daughter away from such negativity, without losing both our careers, you said. But this...thing with that Angelo...I can’t.”

“Jeonghan,” you said, your eyes also in tears now, “I love you.”

“Then why...” Jeonghan squeezed his eyes tightly as he tried to control himself, “why are you seeing somebody else?”

Jeonghan paced about the room. You did not answer him this time.

Finally, he sat back down.

“You heard me earlier before, right?” he said in a low voice, his hand once again reaching for yours. You let him take it and you felt shivers run up and down your spine as he stroked it with his other hand, unlocking more memories as he touched you. His index finger and thumb idly traced a circle around your left ring finger. “You heard what I was saying to you.”

His words. This time, along with the surge of emotions and memories, you felt yourself stiffen.

“Please come back to me.”

You closed your eyes. “Yoon Jeonghan.”

He ignored you. “I asked you to come back to me. And you reached out and held my hand as I said it.” He kept tracing circles at your left ring finger. “So…I figured you heard. Or was that just a reflex? Do you unconsciously reach out to Angelo in bed, too?” The jealousy in his tone was barely contained at this point.

“I do not sleep with Angelo,” you spat out, snatching your hand away from him. “And I did not reach out to hold your hand on purpose.”

“But you do not deny that you heard me.”

“And what do you expect me to answer to that, Yoon Jeonghan?” you hissed. You have experienced all sorts of emotions this morning. All because of Yoon Jeonghan. “Are we going to be blind about the fact that our love can’t be the answer to our problems? What do you want me to say?”

Again.

Jeonghan lifted his eyes to meet yours. The torment there was unmistakable, and you felt your breath catch. He looked just like the Yoon Jeonghan from before: young, vulnerable and in pain.

In pain because he had been away from you for so long.

At least, that was the reason for his torment before. But was it still the reason now?

“That you’re as fed up with this insane arrangement as I am. That it drives you crazy that we have to live in separate houses as we raise our daughter, and that our loneliness is driving us apart and is making us seek other people. That we’re not young and reckless anymore. That we can find a way to fight for our love this time.

“That you want me back, too. And it doesn’t even have to be because you still have feelings for me.” He eyes stabbed painful holes in your heart. “Tell me that you want me back for Jae Eun’s sake. That is more than enough reason for me. Think carefully about it.” He stood up from his chair, his eyes now hooded and his face taut, jaw clenched. “For our daughter.”

He strode off and left the room.

Lying beside Jeonghan, a thousand thoughts plagued you, driving sleep away. Your eyes trailed off to the dresser, where you had placed your phone.

“Go to sleep,” Jeonghan murmured sleepily, burrowing his face in your neck, pulling you closer to him. “You’ve had a long day.”

It was true. You had.

It was the first of many days where you would make the headlines.

About two weeks ago, a reporter had spotted you and Jeonghan getting out of his car and entering the supposedly private townhouse that you had moved into with Jeonghan. Speculation and a few leads confirmed what had been going on for months: your romantic relationship with Yoon Jeonghan.

It wasn’t just you who had a long day. Jeonghan, too, had a lot to eat on his plate today. After receiving a reprimand from his agency for “putting SEVENTEEN’s reputation at stake” with the sudden news that he wasn’t just dating someone—he was living with that someone, he had stood up for you and for what he had with you. He wasn’t going to go deny what you had or just keep silent about it. If he will be asked by reporters, he had stubbornly insisted to the management, he will answer truthfully.

You had anticipated the explosion of opinions, rumors and reactions that lay ahead.

Your fears—once just a fragment of your imagination—were now becoming your reality.

At work this morning, you had watched warily as Yoon Jeonghan was interviewed along with the other members at a talk show, from the huge plasma screen that dominated one part of the huge editing office of The Seoul Daily. Your co-workers in their respective cubicles were all multitasking, phones on their ears and eyes on the TV. Their actions were manic, all of them racing against each other to get the freshest scoop on this issue. Little did they know that the dynamite to all this—you—was just among them. You prayed that you wouldn’t be caught today. But you knew the odds were against you at this point. You know how good your company was at gathering information about any occurrence within and outside Seoul. You knew too well that they have sources everywhere. It was only a matter of time.

You had nothing to hide. You weren’t ashamed of Yoon Jeonghan or anything about your relationship. But you valued the peace and quiet. You valued privacy.

You prayed.

“Yoon Jeonghan-ssi, please forgive me for asking this question, but is it true, what Dispatch just released? The photos of you and a young woman entering a townhouse? Is she…” the host paused dramatically, “…who they say she is to you?”

Seungcheol had opened his mouth then to respond for Jeonghan, but Jeonghan didn’t need the help. He smiled and answered rather naturally, “Yes.”

“Is she your girlfriend?”

Another smile, this time, wider. “Yes.”

You had dropped the pencil you were holding and had looked away from the TV screen that everyone in the office was glued to. But your eye had caught that picture of you, your face blurred mercifully. You prayed then that the nosy interviewer would stop harassing Jeonghan with these questions. And where were SEVENTEEN’s managers? Surely, they would stop this brazen invasion of an idol’s privacy!

“You seem very, very open about her.”

“I am, because I find no reason not to be open to the public about her. She’s my girlfriend, and I love her.”

“Have you told your fans about her?”

“Last night, I told them all about my girlfriend. I told them that I wanted to keep it as private as possible, but since I was asked, I just answered. I want to be as real as possible on- and off-camera. I don’t live two lives. I live only one—the facts have to align.”

“You both seem to be serious.”

“Yes. We live together.”

Startled gasps and shocked reactions circulated around the room. She was sure that the writers for The Seoul Daily would be taking all of this down on their assortment of pads, tablets, computers—phones. Already she had heard a co-worker phoning Pledis Entertainment. It won’t be long before unnamed source—people who have seen her with Yoon Jeonghan—would divulge her name.

‘Wow. We didn’t even need to ask that.”

“You know anyway. I don’t think I’m telling you anything new at this point.”

Several members quickly rescued the conversation, and the host mercifully took the cue to stop asking. And while Jeonghan looked as composed as ever, you knew from the minute expressions that sometimes showed on his face that he was tired and angry about the interview.

But he answered honestly anyway, even though he had every right not to tell anyone anything that doesn’t concern his career.

Jeonghan, you had pleaded, your eyes squeezed shut, what are you doing?

The verdict about your privacy’s demise had come when your boss, the chief editor of the Seoul Daily, called you into her office.

You had stood before her, your hands behind your back, one thumb pinching the flesh on your other palm over and over. Squinting underneath her glasses, Kang Subin eyed you like a catch prize, something very valuable compared to the commonplace employee you once were.

“Ms. Y/N, is it true?” she had asked, even though she knew the answer already as far as you could see from her iPad, Wwhich showed the same picture you had seen on the interview, only this time, your face was crystal clear. Unblurred. “Are you Yoon Jeonghan’s lover?”

You looked at her squarely in the eye. “I think you already know the answer to that, Ma’am.”

“How did you two meet?”

“Respectfully speaking, Ma’am, I don’t think I have to divulge any more of my personal life other than what is being revealed by the press already.” The tone on your voice, you knew, had gone hard. But you struggled to keep a natural composure before this predator. Your very own boss.

“Your boyfriend seems to have no problems with confirming things, and telling the press details,” she said rather pointedly, and a bit icily. “And he’s the celebrity. I think it would be of no problem to him as well if you could personally give us a little bit of your story.”

“My personal life is not up for grabs,” you remember calmly saying, before retreating. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t act like you’re so protective of your privacy, Y/N,” Subin called out. “I know everything about you now.”

You opened the door and walked out.

Let them wonder how about you met Yoon Jeonghan.

You thought you would be able to stomach everything. After all, you had never been one to get bothered by rumors about you. But when you walked back to your cubicle, you noticed the stares and the shock in their faces.

Everyone now knows.

For the whole day, as you followed leads of your own and ignored snide remarks by co-workers whom you denied inside scoops, your mind was full of dread at this press fiasco. Already your phone was buzzing with messages and calls. You immediately took control of all your social media feeds and turned them into private accounts.

What was once a normal life was suddenly turned upside down.

Now, late at night, in Jeonghan’s arms, you prayed that tomorrow would be different. You hadn’t wanted all this publicity. But you knew that it was not something you could avoid. You are dating a celebrity, after all. A very famous celebrity at that.

You have now been baptized by the press and the public into Yoon Jeonghan’s world. You wondered if you would be able to take it.

“Sleep,” he murmured again, and you closed your eyes, safe in Jeonghan’s embrace. No matter the cost, being with him was worth it.

“Yoon Jae Eun.”

Jeonghan knelt, so that their eyes could meet levelly.

“I want you to be nice to your mom. She has been through a lot today. Am I clear? No crying, no angry words.” Jeonghan put his hands on her shoulders and gazed at his young, wide-eyed daughter, who was now pouting again. “Your Eomma loves you very much. You remember that and keep it here—” he touched her head gently, and then pointed at her heart, “—and here.”

Jae Eun nodded silently, but the defiance in her eyes remained.

Jeonghan sighed. She did not inherit that look from me, he said to himself wryly one corner of his mouth turning up at the thought. Then he stood up, held Jae Eun’s hand and pushed the door open.

You have already dressed and gotten your things ready. You still looked pale, and Jeonghan worried a little about that. But the strength with which you carried yourself in front of your daughter made him stop from rushing to you to see if you are well enough to go home. He knew you wanted to look better for Jae Eun.

If he were in your shoes, he would want to look okay, too.

“Jae Eun-ah, come here.” You opened your arms wide. But Jae Eun did not move and did not let go of Yoon Jeonghan’s hand.

You looked at Jeonghan, your eyes communicating with him tensely.

Jeonghan released Jae Eun’s hand and bent down to kiss the top of Jae Eun’s head. “Appa is just going outside for a moment. You be good here with Eomma, okay? I’ll be back at five to take you home.”

“You promise?” Jae Eun’s expectant eyes brightened up at your words. She had never had car rides with both of her parents with her. Jeonghan knew she would be happy if they all went home in one car.

“I promise.” Then he looked over at you once again before walking away and closing the door softly.

Jeonghan leaned against the door, sighing loudly. He had not slept well enough to function, and the emotional weight of everything that had happened—the show, the after-party, the accident—all of it took their toll on him. But he knew that he could not rest now. Not yet.

The thought of his most strenuous task for the day made him steel his resolve. He would go home first, shower and change clothes. Then he would proceed to where he must go for the day. He dutifully acknowledged the reporters who were waiting all around the hospital building with nods and small smiles and ignored the questions they shouted at him. It was a good thing that the hospital provided extra security for the floor where you were interred when he asked them for it.

He whipped up his phone and dialed a number.

“Hello. Yes, it’s me, Jeonghan. 1402. I’m heading out and I need you to be here to help with security. Yes. My wife and my daughter…Thank you very much.” My wife. He hung up immediately to answer another call. He was now at the parking lot.

“I’m waiting by your car,” came Seungcheol’s reassuring voice. “I’ll take you home.”

Jeonghan sighed in relief and waved at his friend just across the lot. “You are a lifesaver.”

“Hey, with all of us being such good boys, this is the only time I could get to fully exercise my role as a leader, taking care of my members.” Seungcheol hung up as he gave Jeonghan a brief hug before taking the keys from him. “Sleep. You’re gonna need it.”

“Yes, team leader,” Jeonghan said dryly, the sore muscles on his back relaxing as he seated himself on the plush car seat. He closed his eyes as Seungcheol started the car.

Minutes later, after stopping at a red light, Seungcheol spoke. “It’s only half past one. Plenty of time. Are you sure about what you’re going to do?”

“Yes.” Jeonghan was drifting off to sleep.

“Then I’ll come along, too. Maybe I can help persuade—”

“—I appreciate the gesture, but, no thanks. I need to do this by myself.” Jeonghan opened his eyes and glanced at his friend. “I’m the one who lost her. I’m the one who has to bring her back.”

Seungcheol nodded in understanding. “But I’ll come anyway. I’ll wait by your car and distract the reporters that might be crowding around.”

Jeonghan regarded his friend for a moment, before nodding. Seungcheol wasn’t asking. He was telling Jeonghan what he was going to do. “Okay.” Jeonghan turned away from Seungcheol then to sleep, but his mind was transported back to another time when Seungcheol simply did not sit by the sidelines and watch Jeonghan’s life come into a head.

The doorbell rang and rang.

“Cheol.”

The door opened a crack, and finally, Jeonghan could see Seungcheol’s visage through the darkness.

“Hannie?” The door opened wider, revealing Seungcheol in his pajamas. He felt like cursing from being roused from his sleep, but now that he saw Jeonghan, he was wide-awake.

Jeonghan’s sleep-deprived face looked gaunt, and his eyes looked red and empty. There was no light in it anymore, as if a fire inside him had just gone out. He looked like he was drunk, swaying and staggering, but he wasn’t.

He wished he were.

“Come with me.” Jeonghan looked very tired. “Don’t ask any questions. Just come with me.”

Seungcheol could not refuse his friend despite the odd hours. He disappeared inside the house again. Lights came on and off across the apartment’s floors. Jeonghan prayed he did not disturb the newlyweds.

But he needed Seungcheol now.

“Where are we going? And where’s your car? Did you walk from your place all the way here?”

Jeonghan got inside the car and said nothing, other than, “Let’s go to Seoul Hospital.” Jeonghan leaned back and closed his eyes. “She’s in the hospital?”

“Who?” Seungcheol asked, but he caught himself when he suddenly realized the answer. He regretted asking.

“She’s going into labor. I don’t know where I left my car. But I need to get there now.”

“Does she know you’ll be there?”

“No. But I’ll be there just the same. And Seungcheol...”

Seungcheol did not turn to look at his friend as he concentrated on driving as fast and as carefully as he could, but he replied, “Yes?”

“I’m sorry for being so reckless with everything. I know I’ve been giving everyone headaches.”

Seungcheol grinned. “Sometimes we act crazy because our hearts could not contain the rational ways we try to tame it. But I understand.” He paused briefly. “I would do the same for my wife, too, if I were in your position. But as your team leader, I still think you should have told us about your delicate situation. We could have helped the public accept the news more...”

Jeonghan sighed. “...I thought there could be a way to do things normally. To date and love and raise a family without having to inform everyone about everything that’s happening. I thought...”

“...well, Yoon Jeonghan, you’re forgetting something.” Seungcheol’s tone sounded musing but firm. “We don’t lead normal lives. But we have to take things in stride because our blessings are often greater than our hardships.”

“Tell me that when you have to raise a child as a divorced man, Cheol,” Jeonghan said, drifting off to sleep. “Tell me that when you experience my pain now. But please...just don’t. Not right now.”

Seungcheol nodded. “Okay. But for now...” He slowed the car as they neared a secured gate at the back of Seoul Hospital. “...let’s not think about the hardships. Let’s enjoy the moment you hold your baby in your arms. I would be excited if I were in your place when I get to have my own kids someday.” Seungcheol looked at Jeonghan. “I'll call the boys and tell them the news. Preparation for the fanmeet can wait. Let’s find joy knowing that you’re now going to raise the most amazing person in your entire life.”

“Eomma.”

By the soft glow of the lamplight, you stroked the silken strands of your daughter’s hair. “What is it, sweetheart?”

Tiny hands grasped yours. Their fingers, much like her father’s, squeezed on yours. “Please don’t marry anyone else.”

Yoon Jeonghan’s eyes stared back at you from your daughter’s face. The same, tormented expression, but too young for this face. Your heart broke seeing it in Jae Eun.

“I won’t.” You kissed her forehead.

“You promise?”

“Yes.” You smiled for her. “I promise.”

"I love you."

"I love you more."

The cloud in Jae Eun’s face seemed to dissipate. She smiled at you, murmured her more of her 'I love you’s, and fell into sleep. You tucked her in, kissed her again and walked out of the small bedroom into the parlor, where Jeonghan was dozing off on a couch.

Your footsteps woke him. His eyes opened and looked at you.

“Is she asleep?” he asked softly.

You sat at the other end of the couch and nodded. “Yes.” You looked at the time. It was almost midnight. Jeonghan had gotten back a little later than eight p.m. from somewhere and had played with Jae Eun while you talked with the huge, towering men he had brought with him to provide protection.

Now, you sensed how tired he was when Jeonghan stood up from the couch and groggily took his coat.

“Where are you going?” you asked, your heart suddenly pounding in fear.

He looked at you over his shoulder. “Why do you ask?”

You felt yourself flush. “I—I didn’t mean it that way.”

Jeonghan stood motionless for a time before striding off towards the front door. There, he stopped, hand on the doorknob. His voice was low, tired but clear.

“Call me immediately if you feel something is off. The bodyguards I hired for you are here when you need them. But call me.” He opened the door and was about to step outside when—

“—Wait.”

You had bounded across the room within seconds. You snatched at his coat, and you gasped at the effort it took. The cold night air blew across the room through the open door.

Jeonghan went very still.

Your trembling hand gripped at his coat tighter. “Yoon Jeonghan—”

This was what you wanted to say to him when he walked out of your hospital room earlier. This was what you wanted to say when you intentionally reached out with your hands as he repeated, over and over, “Please come back to me.”

This was what you wanted to say when Angelo was kneeling and your eyes had watched in horror as Jeonghan strode out of the room carrying your daughter.

“—Stay.”

Candles lit the reflections on the ceiling-to-floor windows with golden colors. White, lace curtains that billowed softly. The huge bedroom was filled with an aroma of honeysuckle and roses. Clothes were scattered on the floor. In the center of the massive room, a huge canopy bed rested, its drapings also of the same, white lace on the windows.

Moans and sighs pierced the quietness.

“Y-Yoon Jeonghan—”

The bed rocked as each powerful thrust pummeled and pummeled into your wet, wet core, the slick, animalistic sounds of your lovemaking filling the room, its white, marble emptiness making every small sound echo. Your moans, amplified by the stillness, and Jeonghan’s groans as he thrusted faster and faster, your highly-aroused breasts, their nipples puckering with hardness, and love bites on their soft flesh swaying with the speed, your hands clutching tightly at the sheets as the sensation of him being inside you made you go heady with pleasure.

“A-ahh. Please,” you begged. “N-now, please—”

Your body convulsed as you felt yourself coming for the third time tonight. Your hands gripped at the headboard, steeling yourself for the violent release as pain and pleasure mixed like finely mingled wine.

Jeonghan gave out a loud, guttural cry as he thrusted for the last time—deep, deep inside you, abusing that spot deep inside you which triggered the sweetest, most intoxicating pleasure that became your undoing. You felt tears stream down your face as you came, your body pulsating and throbbing as you felt his seed spill into you.

Jeonghan slumped into you, fully spent—for now, just between your breasts, where he loved to lie. He hadn’t pulled out of you. And he stayed inside you for a long time, resting, until you pushed him to lie flat on the bed, the sudden emptiness inside you becoming your arousal again.

The white, marble emptiness of the room made every small sound echo. And, through the darkness, the rustle of the swaying drapings on the canopy could be heard, along with your cries of pleasure as you and Jeonghan made love.

And as morning broke, strands of sun let in by the huge windows glinted on the golden band that you wore on your left ring finger. You lay with Jeonghan, no sheets covering your bodies, spooned into each other.

Unbeknownst to you, a life was starting to form inside you.

You awoke.

It was morning.

You suddenly became aware of a familiar body lying on top of you, his head just between your breasts, where he loved to rest. You smelled the scent of his hair and his perfume and his arms on your sides and the sweet, familiar pain and soreness down below. You knew then that you would have trouble walking today.

You gently stroked Yoon Jeonghan’s hair. He stirred, but he did not awake from your touch.

A knock on the door did.

”Eomma? Wake up! Appa is gone!”

You and Yoon Jeonghan immediately sat up from the bed after hearing Yoon Jae Eun’s voice. You frantically gathered up the sheets to cover your naked body and you planted your feet to the floor. Immediately, you grimaced at the soreness. You looked up and saw Yoon Jeonghan’s lips curled into a smile that made you blush.

“Eomma?” Jae Eun was crying now. “Where is Appa? I promised to make him breakfast today.” The sobs from the other side of the door softened your heart.

Yoon Jeonghan put on his pants and a shirt he’s gotten from somewhere on the floor and walked to the door, which he opened a crack. “I’m here. Appa is here,” he said in a soothing voice. “You can make me breakfast.”

“Appa!!!” Jae Eun’s happy squeal of delight made your stomach flutter. You smiled, and you drew the covers up your chin as you watched father and daughter talk about breakfast. Finally, with promises to come out in five minutes, Jeonghan closed the door again and faced you.

He just stood there for a long time, hand on the door, his eyes full of tenderness.

Looking at him standing right there made a thought cross your mind. It looks insanely right, seeing him stand at my bedroom door in the morning. It looks so right.

Yoon Jeonghan walked towards you slowly, sat down on the bed and then wrapped his arms around you.

You and Jeonghan were silent for a long time.

Whatever words had to be said could be spoken at a later time. What mattered now to you was that he was here. With you. Something inside you knew that whatever had torn you apart could not do so again.

Passion mixed with maturity...maybe we could last despite the challenges this time.

Finally, Jae Eun’s breakfast call came. Jeonghan released you from his arms, kissed you over and over again and whispered that he would be back. You watched him pad across the room to meet your four-year-old. The smell of jelly and hot chocolate wafted into the room before the bedroom door closed.

The moment the knob clicked in place, your phone vibrated on your bedside table.

The caller ID sent shivers up and down your spine. You did not answer the call, but you did listen to the voice messages. Twenty of them.

You dropped the phone on the bed and thought about what to do next.

Angelo.

- Admin Leanne

#seventeen #svtcreations #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen smut #seventeen angst #seventeen jeonghan #yoon jeonghan

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