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multiplefandomsblog · 3 years

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Byakuya trying out vibrating panties in public(NSFW)

request; When requests open - how would you feel about a fem reader x byakuya who makes her wear vibrating underwear during an important event (a ball, meeting, etc), have a good day （╹◡╹）♡

warnings; reader uses female names pronouns and has female parts, remote control vibrating panties, overstimulation, unedited and very rushed, kinda short, they’re either friends with benefits or a couple, they’re both wearing formal wear(reader is wearing a dress), major humiliation kink, byakuya is the dom, no fluff, cussing

note; k but, what if Byakuya was a prince? He isn’t in this fic but like,,

word count; 1k

“I ha—hah..! Byakuya, you little- No- Lower the fucking power! shit, I’m going to-!” Your voice was barely audible over the loud music, along with the almost ringing noise of champagne glasses clinking and people laughing. You tightened your grip on his suit jacket, your hands were creasing his expensive clothing, but if he continued putting the vibe in your panties at such a strength, soon your cum would ruin your extremely expensive dress. An eye for an eye, you thought as you stared at him dead-on.

This was stupid, risky and exhilarating all at the same time, something you wouldn’t think you’d ever describe an experience with Byakuya of. That’s not even the surprising part, moments before the event, Byakuya had been the one to ask you if you’d want to try it. The kinky little fuck never ceased to amaze you- let me tell you, a sexual relationship with Byakuya would never be boring when he surprises you with risks like this.

Despite your wavering irritated glare, he only stared back at you in amusement, a small sinister smirk tugging at his lips. “What are you going to do, hm? Humiliate yourself in front of all these people? Moan out my name while the entire crowd watches?” You could see sadistic darkness possess his gaze on you, one only you could see; at the cause of the close proximity, you shared with him.

You opened your mouth to speak, eyebrows furrowing in defiance, but he quickly shut you up, as he dipped you suddenly, your exposed neck perfect for him to dig his nose into— “I invited precisely 128 guests today- say, does it get you off to cum in your pretty little panties in front of all one-hundred and twenty-eight guests?” His breath fanned on the sensitive skin of your collarbone, and as his lips grazed the skin you couldn’t help but let out a shaky breath of your own. He could see the skin flush from his touch, and that only made him more aroused.

You couldn’t help but let out a squeaky mewl at his words, feeling your panties get even more sticky and wet. Even though you felt your body melting, submitting to the tall man on instinct, you still refused to submit your mind to him yet. “N-no, you’re the one who bought this, I only agreed because-!” You hesitated, voice caught in your throat as you darted your eyes at him in sudden desperation. For a split second, you had fazed into your subspace, the domineering look he had on you triggered your instinct to kneel. “Because?” A knowing smirk twitched at his lips, you wondered if he’s ever smiled a smile that wasn’t that same shit-eating smirk.

Despite your bratty thought, you bit your tongue, if you said anymore, who knows what he’d do? The man had close to zero limits.

“Because …I wanted to please you.” You uttered the last part out, quietly shrinking underneath him as you felt your head get fuzzier. He noticed your words becoming more and more dazed, and he couldn’t help but grin at the effect he had on you. “Good girl, but come back now, we’re still in public, princess.” Judging by the look on his face, you had fortunately pleased him with your words, but you noticed the slight seriousness in his tone and so you straightened your back to pretend to be presentable as if there wasn’t a violent vibration in between your legs. You always had to listen to your dom after all. As you stepped forward to dance, you felt the object shift closer to your clit.

As pleading gasps escaped your lips, you felt shock-waves of pleasure shoot up your body without warning. Your eyes clenched tightly as you felt something strong build up in your stomach. Your legs were trembling from underneath you as you pawed at Byakuya desperately. In an attempt to prevent yourself from completely embarrassing yourself in front of everyone, you reached one hand in between your two legs to try and turn it off.

Byakuya caught what you were trying to do as soon as he saw your hand move down, but he caught you quicker and slid the remote out from underneath his sleeve, increasing the power with his middle finger.

Your eyes widened and you felt your legs give out from underneath you, a loud wail almost escaping you but you ripped your hand away from his to muffle the noise about to escape your mouth. As you tumbled onto his chest, Byakuya caught your weak figure and smoothly guided you to a chair, feigning small worry as to fool the others; as if he was worried.

The moment he felt your body collapse, images of fucking into your limp but still squirming body filled his head, he had to resist the urge to just rip off that dress of yours and take you in front of everyone. Still, he had a reputation to keep, one he has genuinely considered bombing just for the sake of fucking you.

The humiliation of unravelling in front of the eyes of more than a hundred people filled your entire being, and you couldn’t find the courage to look at anyone around you with your tear-filled eyes as you felt your orgasm wash over you. This was so dirty, this was so wrong, so wrong but the feeling in between your legs told you this was anything but right.

The sitting position certainly didn’t help, the chair only pushed the gadget further up you, pressing against your twitching entrance. “Hht! B-Byakuya-” You felt yourself getting overstimulated as soon as your orgasm wore off, and you had to resist the severe urge to spread your legs because a lady wouldn’t do that and you were still in the middle of a very populated ball.

You were near sobbing hysterically, the feeling of your clit being heavily overstimulated along with the embarrassing stares of your classmates was going to be the death of you.

He knew that; he was just waiting for you to break, the ‘comforting’ hand he had sliding up and down your back to fool others wasn’t so comforting when you knew the true intent of it. It was teasing, mocking you as your legs shook, you were sure your entire dress had been covered with your juices.

Byakuya had been the one to buy you this dress, he knew how expensive it was, yet he still wanted to something as filthy as this. He figured it’d look better once your slick had drenched the entire thing, so he wasn’t going to show you mercy until it did. You wonder if he had bought such a garment for that sole, sadistic urge.

#mod chia #notsfw #byakuya togami #byakuya togami x reader #byakuya x reader #byakuya smut #trigger happy havoc #byakuya #danganronpa trigger happy havoc #danganronpa imagines #danganronpa #danganronpa oneshot #danganronpa fluff #danganronpa 1 #danganronpa byakuya #byakuya imagines #byakuya togami smut #byakuya togami oneshots

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yulje-fam · 3 years

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Of Fears and Heartbeats.

Summary: In a quiet living room - under the light of the moon - Jun-wan comforts U-ju and tries to put his fears to rest.

Relationships: Kim Jun-wan & Lee U-ju [Uncle & Nephew Familial Relationship]

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Mentions of death (fear of death, death of a pet, etc.)

Disclaimer: I don’t own “Hospital Playlist”!

Ao3 Cross-Post: “Of Fears and Heartbeats.” by RandmWriter

It was a little past two in the morning when Jun-wan woke to the sound of crying.

It took him a second to shake off the last vestiges of sleep, and another to register where he was and what he was hearing.

Ah, right.

He was on Ik-jun’s couch. It wasn't the first time he’d been in this particular situation. After all, Ik-jun’s emergency surgeries didn't care about the time of day - and just like tonight, there were times when no one else was available to watch U-ju.

Wait, U-ju-

Jun-wan bolted upright so quickly his vision faltered for a moment, but that was hardly his primary concern. After all, he had finally realized just who it was the quiet sobs were coming from - and he practically willed his eyes to adjust to the darkness faster. His head swiveled quickly as he swung his legs over the side of the couch, but he didn't have to look very far to find who he was searching for.

Even in the sparse light of the moon filtering in through the window, Jun-wan could see U-ju's figure in his bedroom doorway - one hand clinging to the doorframe while the other rubbed futilely at the tears streaming from his eyes.

Something in Jun-wan both softened and ached at the sight.

"Uju-ah," he called out gently. It wasn't a tone he often used, but for his nephew, he'd gladly make an exception.

Jun-wan could hear U-ju's sharp intake of breath at the call of his name, but the young boy made no move to pry himself from the doorframe. Jun-wan tried again.

"Uri U-ju," he began, gesturing with one arm to beckon U-ju towards the couch. "It's alright. Come here."

And apparently that was all the convincing he needed.

U-ju relinquished his hold on his bedroom's doorframe and padded softly towards Jun-wan, who - for his part - tried to keep his expression as gentle and encouraging as possible. When his nephew was finally close enough, Jun-wan kneeled in front of the young boy - trying to be level with him as much as possible.

From his new vantage point, the older man could finally see the child's face. Immediately, Jun-wan felt sympathy lance through him at the sight.

U-ju, he knew, had never been a handful. The young boy was never one to throw tantrums or demand attention - and it appeared that even when scared to tears in the middle of the night, it still wasn't in his nature to make a fuss. U-ju cried quietly - sniffling and hiccuping every now and again, but not wailing or anything even remotely close to it. The tears on his cheeks shone silver in the moonlight, but before U-ju could move to wipe them away, his uncle beat him to it.

As gently as he could, Jun-wan reached out to wipe away his nephew's tears - smiling at the young boy with the same warmth that was reflected in his eyes. He knew he wasn’t the most comforting person in the world, but for U-ju, he would certainly try.

"Something scary must have woken you up," the surgeon whispered, his thumb brushing away what little moisture remained on his nephew's cheeks. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

U-ju debated the question for a moment, before nodding slowly.

"Daege samchon," the young boy began, and Jun-wan couldn't keep the small smile from his face at the nickname. It seemed his "Uncle Snow Crab" title was here to stay.

U-ju took a deep breath before finally asking,

"Will my heart always keep beating?"

To say that Jun-wan was startled would have a been a massive, massive understatement. Why in the world was U-ju worried about that? He knew his nephew was smart and perceptive, but an existential crisis was the last thing he expected from a boy of his age. He definitely had to clarify.

"What makes you ask that, U-ju?" Jun-wan queried - concern coloring his words and his expression.

U-ju worried his bottom lip for a few moments before taking a deep breath.

"Mo-ne's dog just died," the young boy whispered, gaze trained on the floor. "She asked her appa about what it means when something dies, and he told her that sometimes when dogs are really old, their heart stops beating and they die."

U-ju raised his gaze to meet his uncle's, and Jun-wan could have sworn that something inside him shattered when he saw the tears gathering in his nephew's eyes.

"Daege samchon-" U-ju choked out through the lump in this throat, his voice small and terrified. "What if my heart stops beating? I don't want that to happen, b-but I don't know how to c-control it!"

It seemed that voicing his fears was the final crack that broke the dam of his composure, because as soon as he finished, U-ju burst out into tears. The silent sobs of before were long gone - replaced by cries born of bone-rattling fear and confusion.

Jun-wan wasted no time in gathering U-ju in his arms, picking up the small boy and hushing his cries. He sat down on the sofa with his nephew in his lap - rubbing his back in an effort to offer as much comfort as he could. U-ju buried his face in his uncle's neck - sobbing and hiccuping and so, so vulnerable that Jun-wan hugged him all the closer.

Neither of them knew how long they stayed that way; but after quite some time - with Jun-wan never faltering in his efforts to soothe his young charge - the young boy's wailing cries quieted until all that was left was an occasional hitch in his breath.

Once he was certain that the child was calm enough to listen, Jun-wan began to speak.

"Uju-ah," he whispered. "Let's go get you a glass of water, alright?"

Minutely, the little boy nodded his assent from where his head was nestled in the crook of his uncle's neck.

With movements that spoke of practiced ease, Jun-wan hefted U-ju into one of his arms and stood - settling the child on his hip. U-ju didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around his guardian's neck, before settling his head on the older man's shoulder.

A trip to the kitchen and a glass of water later, Jun-wan returned to the sofa and settled his nephew back in his lap - but not before quickly grabbing something from his medical bag at the foot of the couch. The water, thankfully, helped get rid of the unpleasant hiccups, and helped settle U-ju's breathing.

A beat passed before the elder of the two spoke.

"Uju-ah," Jun-wan said, tone soft and gentle. He let the cadence of his voice settle lightly - letting his words flow, as if he were telling his nephew a story. "Did you know that I've spent so many years studying the heart?"

At his words, U-ju lifted his eyes to meet his uncle's, who quietly wiped away the tears on his cheeks. The sight of one of his favorite adults - bedraggled and rumpled as he was, haloed by the silver light of the moon with the kindest smile on his face - was enough to quiet the worst of U-ju's fears. Enough for him to be able to focus on his uncle's words, at least.

The young boy nodded minutely, so Jun-wan continued.

"It's my job to help people when their heart is having trouble - and one of the things I've learned and I've seen again and again, is that the heart-" he gently settled the tips of his fingers on U-ju's chest, and the little boy followed it with his gaze. Jun-wan smiled. "-the heart is stronger than you think, U-ju."

U-ju lifted his gaze to meet his uncle's, and Jun-wan could see the hope shining in his nephew's eyes. His own eyes softened, and he continued.

"You're young, U-ju - and I know your heart is in wonderful condition. As long as you take care of your heart - as long as you eat properly and exercise and avoid all of the bad things - then you can rely on your heart to be strong."

Ever so gently, Jun-wan took one of his nephew's hands and settled it on his chest, just over his own heart. U-ju was silent - enraptured - as he stared at his hand that was resting on the older man's chest. Not a second later, he felt his guardian's hand settle warmly over his own - pressing his fingers firmly into the fabric of his uncle's shirt.

It only took a moment before he felt it.

A heartbeat.

U-ju could feel it reverberate though his fingers - the steady thumping, strong and sure. It was here; it was real. Tangible, concrete, and indisputable proof of the heart's quiet strength.

U-ju couldn't help but sigh quietly in awe. Jun-wan's eyes softened.

"I'm much older than you are, U-ju," Jun-wan whispered, kind and gentle. "But my heart is still strong, isn't it? Can you feel it?"

U-ju nodded quietly.

Jun-wan smiled, before using his free hand to grab at what he had pulled from his medical bag when they had gotten U-ju his water. With practiced ease, Jun-wan settled his stethoscope into place - releasing his nephew's hand. U-ju's fingers found the stethoscope's diaphragm, and he inspected it with a quiet awe and curiosity. His uncle had shown him his stethoscope before - but it was only now that he began to realize the significance of the apparatus.

Jun-wan let his nephew examine the instrument for a few more moments before he spoke.

"U-ju-ah," he began. "If you're still worried and afraid about your heart, would you like me to check it for you?"

His offer was met by a ready nod from U-ju, who was more than glad to have another layer of reassurance.

U-ju watched as his guardian pressed the end of the stethoscope to his chest - listening intently. He couldn't help but smile at the sight of his uncle's visible focus; his appa had a similar 'doctor face' too.

He waited a few more moments as his guardian moved the stethoscope to different points on his body, before Jun-wan finally lowered the diaphragm and fixed U-ju with a smile.

"It sounds perfect, U-ju," he said - and before the little boy could blink, his uncle removed the stethoscope from his neck, and offered it to him.

His guardian's smile was as kind as his voice.

"Would you like to hear your heart for yourself, U-ju?"

It would not have been a stretch to say that U-ju was awed at the opportunity before him. Taking the stethoscope reverently in his hands, the young boy carefully positioned the tips of the instrument into his ears, and watched as Jun-wan pressed the diaphragm just above his heart.

In all his years on earth, U-ju had never heard something so extraordinary.

He hadn't expected the sound to be so strong. And oh, he could hear it; the lub-dub all of his children's books had talked about - now echoing in his own ears. He was wonderstruck; his fears fading in the face of his awe, leaving him infinitely lighter and calmer.

His uncle really did know just what to do to make everything less scary.

Gratitude filling him to the brim, U-ju moved his gaze from his chest to look at his guardian - and he was met with the softest expression he had ever seen on his uncle's face. There was so much affection - so much love that shone clearly in his eyes that U-ju suddenly found himself speechless at the enormity of it.

Jun-wan grinned at the wonder in the young boy's eyes, before raising an amused eyebrow in question.

"So what do you think, U-ju? Your heart sounds very strong, doesn't it?" he asked, to which his young charge nodded - the awe never fading from his eyes.

Jun-wan silently held his palm out, and U-ju - ever smart and perceptive - carefully removed the stethoscope from his ears and placed it in the doctor's waiting hand. The older man set the instrument aside, before fixing his gaze on his nephew - meeting the young boy's eyes.

He still had one last thing he wanted to say.

"Listen to me, alright, U-ju?" he began - his voice kind and warm, as it always was for his nephew. "There's no need to be scared. You can rely on your heart. As long as you take care of it, you can trust it to be strong. And no matter what happens, I will always be here to help."

With a quiet solemnity, he let the pads of his fingers rest on U-ju's chest.

"You can trust your heart, U-ju-"

He pressed his hand to his own chest; a promise.

"-And you can trust your daege samchon to protect it too."

For the third time that night, U-ju couldn't help the tears that rolled down his cheeks. But they were different tears now; the kind that felt like healing rather than hurt, and that washed the pain away with it.

And as he'd done countless times before, Jun-wan wiped the glittering tears from his nephew's face, with as much gentleness and affection as he could offer.

Once his uncle finished wiping the moisture from his cheeks, U-ju rushed forward to envelope the taller man in a hug - nestling his face in the crook of his neck. Jun-wan froze in surprise for a fraction of a second, before he heard a small voice whisper.

"Saranghaeyo daege samchon," U-ju said quietly, as he closed his eyes and hugged his uncle tighter.

Not a moment later, U-ju felt strong arms wrap gently around him - sheltering him in a warm embrace.

"Saranghaeyo uri U-ju."

And as a tranquil peace washed over the pair - each of their breaths coming easier than the last - U-ju allowed his uncle's steady heartbeat to lull him to sleep - quiet, safe, and secure.

—

If Ik-jun found the two of them asleep on the couch the next morning - Jun-wan hugging U-ju to his chest protectively as his son's tears finally dried on his cheeks - he certainly made no mention of it to his friend.

And if he refilled the snack drawer in Jun-wan's office after leaving him a bottle of his favorite coffee - well...

He certainly didn't mention that to him either.

—————

Author’s Note:

Hi everyone!! 😄

So this is my first contribution to the Hospital Playlist Fandom! 😄 This story was inspired by this tweet (https://bit.ly/3jHCJD2), and because U-ju and his Uncle Snow Crab deserve more moments together! ✨

This is my first time writing for any KDrama or KPop fandom, so I sincerely apologize if I got any of the terminologies wrong! Please feel free to point out any errors, and I’ll do my best to fix them! 😄 Also, I really apologize if any of the characters came off as OOC! I’m more than happy to hear any constructive criticism you might have (and I’d really appreciate it if you could phrase it as nicely as you can, if possible!) 😄

Lastly, all feedback is loved and appreciated! Please feel free to tell me which parts you liked, or how the writing can be improved!

That’s all! I hope you all have a wonderful day, and stay safe everyone! 😄✨

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wingsofkpop · 4 years

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Hiraeth - I.I: Stay

pairing(s): Hybrid!Im Jaebeom x Reader, Witch!Mark Tuan x Reader, Werewolf!Jackson Wang x Reader, Vampire!Park Jinyoung x Reader, Supernatural!Got7 x Reader

genre: Supernatual!AU, Dark Magic!AU, Angst, eventual Smut

warning(s): Mature languages, descriptions of death and murder, violence, graphic depictions of fighting, blood and gore, mentions of traumatic experiences, etc.

word count: 6k

synopsis: How far are you willing to go to find out the truth about Moon Dye Bay?...

chapter directory

Once upon a time there was a lone seamstress who lived inside a little house in the woods. Few knew of her existence, and even fewer knew of her name, for outside the safety of the forest, the world and its inhabitants were cruel and corrupt. To relieve the weight of her loneliness, the seamstress sat on her roof every night to speak to the moon as it traveled across the black sky. She spoke to the moon about everything, from the rushing of the river current after a spell of rain to the plumpness of the round, ripe peaches that arrived in the summer, and when she ran out of elements of reality, she turned to ones of fantasy instead. She told the moon stories of massive dragons who breathed butterflies with wings of jewels instead of fire and planets where the seas were composed of golden honey and tall mountains of glass.

The moon fell in love with the seamstress and her fairy tales, for she was just as keen for a companion. She loved the seamstress so much that one night per cycle, when the ocean tides were at their lowest, she would leave her nightly perch and join the seamstress on her roof. No one knew of the true nature of their relationship, whether they were friends, lovers, soulmates, but that did not matter, for the moon loved the seamstress, and the seamstress loved the moon in return.

In order to show her love, the moon gifted the seamstress one of her brightest stars from the night sky. Upon consuming the star, the seamstress was blessed with abilities beyond imaginable: Gifts to heal creatures long past the point of decay. Talents in skill, wit and knowledge that surpassed the most brilliant scholars. And most notably, the miracle of eternal life.

Outsiders soon caught word of the immortal seamstress who lived in the little house in the wood, and some sought to steal her and the moon’s power for their own gain. On a night when the moon was at its fullest, a band of malicious villagers stormed the seamstress’s home right on the very roof where she sat. The moon, unable to intervene, watched the villagers kill the one she loved. In a final attempt to best the attackers, the moon shattered the seamstress’s soul into pieces, which had become one with the star, and scattered them across the world. To this day, the ruins of the seamstress’s house still stands deep within the forests of time. On nights when the moon disappears from the night sky, some say that if one listens close enough, sobs and wails can be heard from the roof of the little home where the moon mourns her lost companion.

Many have tried, but it is impossible to gather enough shards of the seamstress’s spirit to recreate the full power of the gifted star. It is said a piece of her soul resides inside all of us. Though in some, the magic is more prominent than others…

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“—and then she started getting all defensive over it.” You hold back a sigh at Jihyo’s huff, not desiring to make your roommate and close friend aware that her over-the-phone rant is draining what little sanity remains within your mind. To be honest, you actually lost track of the conversation a couple blocks back, and have little clue over who she’s complaining about. Probably yet another one of Sana’s douchebag crushes “Like, I get you like him and all, but the dude’s literally an asshole. I mean, he’s stood her up how many goddamn times, and not to mention, the whole thing with Chaeyoung—

“(Y/N)? Are you even listening?” You immediately snap from whatever headspace your consciousness slipped into at the change in Jihyo’s tone. Your hand raises to wipe the drowsiness of a twelve-plus-hour day from your eyes as you speak for the first time since you left the university:

“Not really, honestly.” You finally release the breath in your lungs, “It’s… It’s been a long day.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Jihyo scolds, “You know you’re free to hang up on me anytime I get too fired up. Or at least snap me out of it.”

“I know,” You peer at both sides of the street before making your way across, pulling your jacket tighter around your body to fight the chilly, night air. “Like I said, it’s just been a long day.”

“You can tell me all about it over some take-out, sound good?”

“Sounds great. I haven’t eaten much today.”

Jihyo’s grumble emerges over the line, earning an amused chuckle from your own chest. You can hear her yell something to most likely Sana, your other roommate, in the background before returning with yet another scold, “You’re in serious trouble now, (Y/N) (L/N). What have we said about skipping meals?”

“I was busy today!” You protest, unable to hold back the smile that spreads along your lips at your friend’s mother-like nagging.

“That is no excuse!” A couple muffled sounds carry over the line, along with a hushed, inaudible conversation between Jihyo and another person. You cross another street and round the corner, preparing to cut through your usual shortcut to your apartment building, when Jihyo finally returns, “I hope you’re okay with Thai because apparently Sana’s going to die if she doesn’t get her Mango Sticky Rice...”

“I’m okay with that. You know my usual?”

“Do you know who you’re talking to?”

You chuckle, “Fair enough. I’ve got maybe another ten minutes until I’m home. Try not to let Sana eat all the food before I get there.”

“No promises. See you soon, babe.”

You hum a wordless farewell in response before lowering your phone from your ear to end the call. Without the buzz of the line and your friend’s voice to fill the silence, you finally notice how quiet and empty the streets seem. During the hours of the day, the town is usually packed with people meandering out and about in the bay’s usual nice weather. Without the sunshine, however, the nights can get rather cold, and by missing your bus, you’re experiencing that fact firsthand.

You can feel goosebumps emerging across your skin underneath your clothing as you traverse further down the path, a flickering, lone streetlamp your only guide through the darkness. The alleyway in which you usually cut through gapes on your left, but before you enter the narrow passage, you pause to peer over your shoulder. While it wouldn’t be the first time your paranoia has emerged for little reason, considering your track record of life experiences, the sight of shadows and stillness does nothing to ease the eerie sensations creeping along the back of your neck.

Passing the strange feeling off to the cold, you finally step into the pitch black of the alleyway, taking quicker and longer steps out of pure instinct. You pilfer through your bag, wanting to find your phone again to light your path, but as per usual, it seems to have dropped to the very bottom of the bag’s contents. A silent groan rumbles from your chest at the discovery that you’ll have to continue through the dark, or at least until you reach the opposite end of the alley. Hopefully there’s no rats or bats or—

Your entire body jumps at a loud clatter that sounds from behind. You quickly pivot on your heel to investigate the sudden noise, finding nothing but darkness, darkness and more darkness.

“H-Hello?” Your call bounces between the brick walls of the alleyway, echoing back inside your ears. You swallow, with your throat as tight as your chest, and call again. The only sound that answers is the violent racing of your pulse and your shaky breaths. Clutching your bag closer to your chest, you begin to walk backwards while keeping your eyes trained toward the entrance you only moments before came through. The idea seems ideal, that is, until your foot catches a divot and your form collapses onto the pavement.

It takes you a moment to recover from the fall, but you’re quick to grab one of the stiletto heels from your foot and arm yourself with as best a means of defense as you can manage. You carefully rise, shuddering as another clatter sounds from somewhere in the alley. Your eyes dart through the darkness, searching for a shadow that moves more than the rest. After maybe another minute of silence, with your makeshift weapon still in hand, you rush toward the exit of the passageway.

A breath of relief leaves your lips as you enter a level of light where your hand is no longer a silhouette in front of your face. Using the lamp post as support, you reach down to grab the second heel from your other foot and toss it inside your bag while its twin remains prepped just in case. You can survive walking the last three minutes to your building barefoot. All else be damned.

Just as you’re about to resume your walk home, something grabs the back of your scalp, and using the roots of your hair as assistance, yanks you back into the dark alleyway. You immediately fight back, swinging your arm as hard as you can to stab the assailant with your heel. Obviously taken off guard, the figure surrenders its hold on your hair and provides the opportunity for you to stab him again. It releases a blend of something between a groan and a growl, grabs your wrist and quite literally, launches you deeper into the darkness.

Your body connects with a brick wall with a violent thud, stealing every ounce of breath from your lungs. You try to clamber to your hands and knees, but your right arm throbs and goes completely limp at the movement. You curse at the broken bone, but still manage to bring yourself to stand. No sooner are you on your feet, the figure, who you briefly forgot about, shoves and pins your back against the wall with a hand around your throat.

“G-get off…!” You sputter, using your good arm to claw at its face. With speed and strength that’s mostly definitely not human, it keeps your flailing body pressed against the brick surface, yanks your arm out of the way and harshly tilts your head to the side. A loud scream sounds from your lips as binding pain erupts from your neck. Warm blood slips down your flesh like raindrops, staining the collar of your shirt crimson red. The pain is so fierce, it disorients your mind and numbs the remainder of your physical strength, leaving no room for you to fight back any longer.

Your vision begins to grow blurry, partly from tears and partly from the painful fogginess exhausting your brain. For a moment, you wonder what will kill you first: The blood loss, the excruciating pain, or the knowledge that your life in itself is slowly slipping from your fingertips.

You are going to die. The thought repeats itself like a broken record on repeat. You are going to die without seeing your students again. You are going to die without seeing Jihyo and Sana and all your friends again. You are going to die right here, in this dark alley, from a brutal monster that came straight out of hell.

Just when you’re on the cusp between consciousness and unconsciousness, the figure is torn away, leaving your body to collapse to the ground. Muffled sounds of what seem to be barbaric snarls and roars spill into your ears, followed by the obvious snaps of breaking bones. Through the pitch black, you can almost make out a human-like silhouette approaching your grounded figure.

The last thing you remember before you slip underneath the waves of exhaustion is the gentle touch of bloody hands and a soft murmur of your name.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Familiar faces mill about the confines of the graveyard, some as bystanders, whispering rumors behind yellow-taped borders, and some as pursuers, tiptoeing around the grounds as if one wrong step will shatter the tense atmosphere like glass. From his perch leaning against a nearby tree, Mark watches the coroner zip up the black body bag with a blank expression set across his features, contradicting the cloud of sorrow suffocating the means of his soul. Even with the corpse out of sight, he can remember her face—the still-rosy cheeks, the icy touch of fingertips, the unseeing eyes…

The coroner rises to his feet, shaking his head before turning to speak to the town sheriff beside him. Mark continues to observe as both investigators engage in a brief conversation. As if sensing his gaze, they simultaneously turn to peer his way. Mark quickly turns his eyes elsewhere and abandons his post. He heads in the direction of the crypt, attempting to push the persistent, vulgar images out of mind.

“Mark! Hang on!” His steps halt at the frenzied call of the sheriff, providing the opportunity for the older woman to approach. She offers him an apologetic smile and an affectionate pat on his forearm. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask you anymore questions.”

“Good. Don’t think I have anything much else to say.” The sheriff doesn’t reply to his weak attempt at humor, instead mapping out the very extent of his face. Trying his hardest to keep his features neutral, Mark stares right back at the female officer—the last thing he needs is to break down right then and there.

After another moment of silence passes, the sheriff finally speaks, “How are you doing, Mark? Really?”

“How do you think I’m doing, sheriff?” Mark releases a sigh, “One of my friends is dead.”

“I know.” She also expels a deep breath, running a hand through her long, brunette tresses. Her grip stiffens just slightly, enough to be able to feel her skin trembling against his. “I wish I could say something to make it better, but I can’t believe it myself—” She chuckles scornfully, “Do you have any idea who—or what, would do this?”

“We’re trying to figure that out.” Mark replies, “Some of us are… taking it pretty hard.”

“Until then, you and everyone else have to be careful.”

Mark shakes his head, “Sheriff—”

“I mean it, Mark,” The sheriff squeezes his arm so tight that Mark wonders if it will bruise. “Whoever did this knew what they were doing, and they knew what she was. Promise me that you’ll keep on your toes?” Flashes of her lifeless body overtake the forefronts of his brain even before he can help it. He hates how his stomach twists at the memory of that foreboding symbol carved into his chest—right next to the confines from where her heart was torn.

“I promise.”

“Good.” A breath that Mark didn’t even know he was holding escapes his lungs as the sheriff removes her hand. “Let me know if you find anything. I’ll keep in touch.”

“Thanks, sheriff.” The sheriff doesn’t say another word, only lays one final pat on Mark’s shoulder before taking off after a group of officers hauling the body bag into the back of a large van. Mark watches as she goes, unable to shake off the feeling of her quivering fingers until she’s out of sight.

Ignoring the staff mopping the blood-stained gravel pathways, Mark resumes his journey up the steps and inside the tall, white-marbled mausoleum. To anyone on the outside, the structure just seems like a normal place to house a passed loved one, but to the specific few, it’s so much more. The coziness of the inside somewhat eases the anxiety flowing through his veins, welcoming the warmth the flames in the fireplace provide. He gazes around the one-room building, past towering bookshelves stuffed with ancient grimoires and cabinets lined with jared materials of all kinds, until his eyes settle on a second figure standing at the lectern placed in the center of the room, flipping through the yellowed pages of a ragged book.

“Any luck?” Mark asks, making his way through the cluttered space beside his busy companion. Youngjae glances up from the tome that’s pretty much falling apart, and sullenly shakes his head.

“Nothing. I tried to track her blood—” Youngjae gestures to a map on a nearby table, its surface decorated with spreading crimson lines and swirls, “—but it’s weird. The trail doesn’t go anywhere. It just…doesn’t stop.”

“What about that mark? Anything on that?”

“I’ve gone through everything we have on runes, symbolism, hieroglyphics, but there’s nothing that even remotely resembles what was on her chest.” Youngjae pauses, hesitant to speak the words on the tip of his tongue, but with a glance at Mark, he continues, “...It’s like whoever, or whatever killed her doesn’t exist, hyung. There’s literally nothing.”

“Shit—” Mark curses, pinching the bridge of his nose with a huff, “There can’t just be nothing! There has to be something—!”

Youngjae shakes his head, “I don’t know what to tell you…” The younger watches as Mark picks up his book. He flips through a few pages before slamming the cover shut with more force than necessary. A moment of silence aside from the sounds of their breathing passes until it is broken by Mark’s yell as he launches the text across the room, knocking over a collection of stacked artifacts.

“Hyung—”

“One of our people is dead, Youngjae!” Youngjae flinches at the elder’s harsh tone, watching helplessly as he shoves a pile of grimoires across the mausoleum floor. “And we have no fucking clue who killed her and why they did it! What if they come back, huh!? What if they come for you next!? Or Lia!? Or Jisung or—” Mark’s angered tangent falls quiet at the shrill call of a cell ringtone. Mark retracts his phone from his pocket, and with a composed sigh, answers the device and lifts it to his ear.

Youngjae watches Mark’s face carefully as it shifts from annoyance to confusion to absolute anguish. He tries to inquire about the subject of the phone call, but Mark only lifts his finger in warning. After a couple cool replies, Mark mumbles a less-than-pleasant farewell and disconnects the line. One of his hands lift to push back the strands of his dark hair while the other frantically reaches for his jacket:

“(Y/N)’s in the hospital. Fuck, I have to—”

“Go, hyung.” Youngjae hums, “I’ll see if I can find anything else.”

Mark’s composure softens. Guilt begins to flow through his veins as he recalls the harsh tone he previously directed at his younger companion. Guided by his emotions, Mark reaches forward to squeeze at Youngjae’s bicep, similar to the sheriff’s actions minutes before. He murmurs, “Thank you, Youngjae.” Youngjae only nods, bending down to begin clearing the remnants of Mark’s wrath as said figure heads out the door.

The forensic team is still cleaning the blood as Mark makes his way toward the exit of the graveyard.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

The first color you see when you open your eyes is white, playing more into your assumptions that you’re currently in the beginning stage of the afterlife. As more and more of your consciousness and common sense return to your brain, the puzzle pieces of the strange situation slowly begin to slide into place. You’re not floating in a cloud at all—but in fact, laying on the most uncomfortable bed known to man. You groan, forcing yourself to sit up as to collect more clues to your surroundings.

A soft murmur of your name and set of hands on your shoulders takes you completely off guard. Immediately, memories of your encounter with the violent creature invade your brain like water to dry soil. You flail your limbs wildly, attempting to defend yourself against the unknown figure with each kick and punch.

“(Y/N), hey! Calm down!” The stranger seizes your wrists before you can knock his eye out, tugging your arms to rest on your lap. It’s painfully aware that his strength outmatches your own, so you make no other attempts to use force—also partly due to the gentle tone of his voice. You allow the stranger to guide your upper body back to lay down on the bed, using the opportunity to peek at his face:

The man is despicably handsome to the point his features seem to be sculpted by the gods themselves. His face is long, with a jawline that is sharp enough to slice your finger if you were to reach up and touch the structure. You can’t tell which is more alluring, between his dark, almond-shaped eyes, or his full, rose lips. Then again, the jet black, fluffy hair atop his head is also a close third…or the milky canvas of his strong neck—

“...(Y/N)?” When the stranger speaks again, you notice a strange lilt to his voice, almost like an accent of some sorts. But like the figure himself, you can’t place where you’ve heard such a figment of speech. “...Can you understand me?”

“I’d hope so.” You murmur blankly, “What am I? A fucking alien?”

The stranger’s lips curl in amusement at your retort. He pulls a lone chair closer to your bedside, not once breaking his gaze from your own. You ignore the strange shivers that crawl down your spine as he takes a seat, leaning forward to rest his forearms atop the edge of your mattress. Through the corner of your eye, you notice the multitude of wires connecting your arm to the machines stationed on the opposite end of the bed—so you’re not dead. What a relief.

“You’re in the hospital—”

“Figured that out already, pal.” You sigh, rolling your head back into the pillows and allowing your eyes to slip shut. The act does little to calm the storm occurring inside your mind, so frustratedly, you open them again and instead, peer at your unfamiliar companion with a raised eyebrow, “Pardon my French, but who the fuck are you and why are you here?”

Before the stranger can settle the confusion bubbling through your entire body, a knock sounds from the door a few feet away. It slides open to reveal a woman in a white coat with a clipboard and pen in hand. With a sweet smile across her face, the doctor enters the room to approach your position on the bed.

She outstretches a hand, “Hi, (Y/N). I’m Dr. Yoo Jeongyeon. I heard you had a pretty rough night.” Too lost inside bewilderment, you accept her formal greeting without saying a word. Dr. Yoo pays no mind to your silence, instead checking the machines at your bedside. “You should be glad Jinyoung found and brought you here.” She finishes recording the results of the pacemaker before requesting you to sit up for a moment. You do so, looking straight ahead as she checks your eyes. “You suffered a nasty concussion—” She switches off the light, “—so how do you feel?”

“I feel…” Your voice fades before you can give a complete answer. It’s not that it wasn’t an easy question—it’s the fact that right now, you feel great… The best you’ve felt in the past couple years as a matter of fact! But that doesn’t make any sense, especially with what you remember from the alleyway. There was blood… and you’re pretty sure your arm was broken too…

“It’s okay to be a little out of sorts. Especially after hitting your head and knocking yourself out.” Dr. Yoo assures, marking something down on her clipboard before nodding, “Everything looks great, but we’re going to keep you here for the rest of the night just as a precaution. You’re free to go home first thing in the morning.”

“Wait, I swear I—”

“Please let one of the nurses know if you need anything else. I’ll see you in the morning.” You watch as Dr. Yoo bids both you, and the man called Jinyoung, a brief goodnight and exits out the same door she came through only minutes ago, leaving your thoughts swirling with even more questions than before.

You shake your head, “I didn’t fall though. I was attacked.”

“Like she said, you hit your head pretty hard.” Jinyoung shrugs, “Your memory is probably a bit off.”

“That’s not—no.” His face grows visibly surprised at the drop in your tone, but still retains his usual neutral aura. “I know what I saw.”

Jinyoung releases a heavy, almost annoyed breath before climbing to his feet. More shivers attack your helpless body as he leans forward, diminishing the distance between the two of you until his nose is only centimeters from brushing your own. You can taste the mint of his breath as he speaks. Calm, collected, and slow:

“You fell and hit your head. Nothing else happened.” Amongst his strange words, you can’t help but notice the rather unusual behavior of his eyes. The ring of his chocolate, brown irises disappears as his pupil grows three times its normal size before shrinking down to a nonexistent dot—you don’t like the familiar ghost of paranoia breathing down the back of your neck.

“What the hell is wrong with your eyes?”

For the first time, actual emotion lifts to Jinyoung’s face in the form of pure disorientation. He lurches backward, as if finally realizing how uncomfortably narrow the distance was between the two of you, and clears his throat. Although it’s probably a trick against the bright, alabaster background, you swear you saw his eyes once again flash to black.

“Nothing. It’s the lighting.” He manages to get over his confused state, or mask it beneath another layer of vacancy, before awkwardly gesturing to your cell phone on the bedside table. “I called your friend, Mark. He was the first contact on your list, so I just thought…”

“That’s… really nice of you.”

“He should be arriving soon…” Jinyoung, once again, stiffly points in the direction of the closed door. “I should wait outside to make sure he finds your room…” He hurries to the doorway, eager to be rid of the tension lingering between the two of your forms, and peers over his shoulder to nod, “I hope you have a goodnight, (Y/N).”

“Jinyoung, wait—” You hurry to sit up, hoping to catch your mysterious savior before he disappears from the room. Thankfully, Jinyoung, with one foot out the door, pauses at your command. This time, he does not turn to meet your gaze—and you curse the longing that sparks in your gut because of it.

“Thanks for… bringing me here, I guess.” Your cheeks burn as you say the words out loud, wondering if Jinyoung can hear the slight waver to your tone. You expect the stranger to nod his head, like before, and high tail out of your sight, but as always, Jinyoung does what you least expect: He turns around and delivers a tight-lipped, but surprisingly sweet smile.

“You’re welcome.” His response makes your insides flutter, “I… I hope to see you again soon.” Jinyoung doesn’t give you the chance to return the conversation, and with one final glance, vanishes through the hospital doorway. Even with his presence gone, your body thrums with the remnants of his aura. Partly because of the lingering aftertaste of his charming presence:

—And partly because of the apprehensive feeling in your gut that grows the more you dwell on the abnormality of his gaze.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Jinyoung never meant for the night to turn out like this. He only wanted to get out of the manor—well, get away from his brother before he broke his neck. Literally. Jinyoung never meant to catch your scent during his midnight stroll, nor eventually find you in that alleyway, where he watched as you bravely attempted to fight off that crazed, bloodthirsty fledgling with nothing but a single shoe. The logical part of his brain initially forbode his intervention, but watching how you fought that vampire awoke the remaining human component inside his soul.

—He realized that he couldn’t let you die.

So against his better judgement, Jinyoung saved your life… and now he’s paying the price.

“You better have a damn good explanation or I’ll hex you into the next fucking century.” Jinyoung waits patiently as Mark exits the hospital elevator, barely flinching as he shoves his body against the nearest wall. Ignoring the pure rage wafting off of the witch’s body like a Spring scent, Jinyoung raises his arms and replies coolly:

“Please take your hands off of me.”

“Not until you explain to how (Y/N) was almost killed by a fucking bloodsucker.” Mark tightens his hold on Jinyoung’s collar, pressing him further into the surface of the wall. “If this is because of your douchebag brother, then I swear—”

“I already told you that Jaebeom cannot turn other vampires.” He pushes Mark’s body with just enough force to free himself from his hold. “And so help me, if you try to go after my family again, I’ll kill you and your pathetic minions.”

Mark scoffs, “Just because you can’t be killed doesn’t mean you’re invincible.” Jinyoung quickly bites his tongue to hold back his retort and inhales a deep breath to calm the frustration brewing through his veins. His mind, against his own will, conjures up the memory of you sitting and staring at him from the hospital bed. Just the image of your bright, fire-lit eyes eases the tension from his shoulders, washing away whatever anger remained inside his gut.

Jinyoung sighs and changes the topic, “(Y/N) is fine. After I killed him, I fed her my blood—”

“Oh, fucking hell—” Mark curses, burying his face in his palms. “Yeah, everything is just peachy.”

“It was either that, or she die from blood loss. Take your pick.”

“We had a deal,” The witch begins, “The coven, the pack and the league would allow you and your brother to stay in town as long as no other bloodsuckers make an appearance—“

“I can’t keep count of every vampire that comes into town,” Jinyoung replies truthfully. “Last I checked, that’s your seer’s job.” He takes note of the painful expression that overtakes Mark’s face, replacing his frustrated tone with one of concern, “What happened?”

“Nayeon is dead.” He feels an imaginary punch sink into his gut at Mark’s sullen answer. “She was killed a couple hours ago.”

“Killed? By what?”

“That’s what we were trying to figure out when I got your goddamn call.”

Jinyoung shakes his head, “I’m sor—”

“Save it.” Mark finishes just as a couple of chatting nurses clad in sky blue scrubs turn the corner and stop in front of the elevator. Both him and Jinyoung offer the hospital staff polite smiles, waiting a couple breaths for the metal doors to slide open and the passersby to enter. Only when the doors shut and the elevator dings, is when Mark continues: “Where is she?”

“Room 116. I told her I called you.” Jinyoung quickly moves forward as Mark tries to push past him, blocking the doorway so he can’t pass. “Hang on—”

“We’re done talking—”

“She can’t be compelled.” Jinyoung ignores how Mark tries to shove him aside, keeping his body rigid and exactly in place.

Mark rolls his eyes, “Well, no shit. I gave her a ring infused with vervain—”

“She wasn’t wearing it,” Jinyoung insists, “And her blood is clean. You know what that means.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind!?” A couple surrounding bystanders curiously glance their way at Mark’s hiss. The witch releases a heavy breath before dragging Jinyoung to a more inconspicuous corner of the hallway. His voice is quieter when he speaks, “Look, I know this girl. There’s no way in hell she's anything remotely supernatural.”

“Then explain how she can’t be compelled by a Prime Vampire.” Jinyoung argues, narrowing his eyes as Mark scoffs and turns to begin the journey to your room. He purses his lips before calling out, “I know you feel it too.” Mark freezes, but doesn’t say a word. Jinyoung takes his silence as a means to continue, “—that rush you feel whenever she’s around… like you’re the most powerful being in the world.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Mark replies before peering over his shoulder to shoot Jinyoung a stern glare, “Stay the hell away from her. Or else.” And with that, Jinyoung watches as Mark scurries down the white hallway and disappears around a corner.

Jinyoung releases a sigh, lifting a hand to run his fingers through his hair. His thoughts are scattered: Stressing about a witch killer lurking around the town… Dreading his future encounter with his ignorant, dastardly counterpart back at the manor… Pondering over the reasons why Mark lied just seconds before…

But most importantly, Jinyoung wonders when he will be able to see you again.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Mark doesn’t understand why he’s so nervous to see you. Maybe it was the look in Jinyoung’s eyes that has him spooked, or the fact that you can’t be compelled by one of the most powerful vampires in existence. Since you came to Moon Dye Bay, Mark has been able to shield the truth of the monsters that go bump in the night from your innocent eyes—the knowledge of your resistance toward mind compulsion proves that he has to be even more careful… especially with a supernatural murderer in the picture.

He inhales a deep breath before rapping his knuckles against the wood of the door. Your gentle call for his entry immediately lifts the heaviness from his chest. With less hesitation than before, Mark opens the obstacle and slips past the doorway into the room, his eyes softening at the sight of your body tucked beneath the sheets of the medical bed.

“Hi.”

“Hey, Mark.” Just the way you say his name spills warmth through his limbs, settling like a warm blanket over his heart. He makes his way to your bed to gather your figure in his arms, appreciating how yours and his bodies fit like puzzle pieces.

He murmurs against the crown of your head, “How are you feeling?”

“Honestly… confused as hell.” Mark pulls back at your weak attempt at a laugh to watch your face instead. His desire to caress the swell of your cheek comes at him so strong that he has to station his hands on your knees as a distraction. “I swear I was attacked by—I don’t even know what—but I don’t even know…”

“It’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”

“I know, I just—don’t understand how things just got so screwed up, you know? I don’t even—Mark, what’s wrong?”

Your question seizes his attention, causing his eyebrows to furrow from confusion. He opens his mouth to inquire about your out-of-the-blue concern, but his words die at the hand that appears on his cheek. He watches in disbelief as you wipe a tear from the edge of his eye, wondering where during the conversation he had begun to cry. Whether it’s the pure compassion in your eyes, or the traumatic encounters throughout the night, Mark doesn’t know… but he allows himself to break down in your hold.

He allows himself to melt into your embrace as you pull him down against your body. He allows the sobs to freely flow from his lips and catch into the crook of your neck. He allows himself to be vulnerable for that one moment… because he can’t show weakness anywhere but with you.

“I… I thought I lost you…” Mark feels your hold tighten at his whisper, “I can’t lose you… Not you…”

“You won’t, Mark…” For a moment, he allows his heart to trick his mind into believing your words meant more than what they’re intended for. Just for a moment, Mark actually convinces himself that here, in your arms, is where he belongs…but he knows it’s far from the truth.

Because even though you may feel like home—Mark can never, truly satisfy his homesickness for you.

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ratkingdnd · 5 years

Text

Chapter Fourty One - Dumb Cunt Bag

"Raissh Le Vieux" says Raissh. The heroes look at each other, raising their eyebrows a little realising that they hadn't even know Raissh's surname and they had been with her for so long now. Scriba finishes up the last pass and taps his quill on to the table a couple of times. "All done" he says, blowing on Raissh's pass. Scriba hands out the passes to everybody, the penmanship was exquisite, clearly this gnome knew how to do his job. "Thank you for this" says Ned as the heroes get up to leave, "Thank you for fighting for us" says Scriba. He runs towards the front of the store and unlocks the padlock, opening the door for them to leave. "Have a good day!" he says, waving at the heroes as they look at each other "Where to next?" says Dolgan, "We now can walk around with no worries". "I want to go and see Mr and Mrs Wong if they're still there, I need some arrows" says Buffalo, "Plus we can check with them if they've seen Ryland". "Lets do it" says Dolgan and the heroes walk to Mr and Mrs Wong's.

The presence of guards in Wolfspine was intense compared to when they left. They walked past them almost every few minutes or so, the majority of the guards seemed nice enough but some obviously had been empowered by their new ruling. "Pass" says one of them holding his hand out to Buffalo, "And the rest of you" says another guard next to him. The heroes hand over their passes and get them handed back within a few seconds. The original guard continues to hold onto Buffalo's pass, looking up and saying "Name?", "Bison Bison" says Buffalo, thankful that he remembered he had given a fake name to Scriba. "Address?", "7 Elmdew St, Wolfspine", the guard hands back the pass without even looking at Buffalo and they walk off. Buffalo lets out a small sigh of relief and they continue to walk to the Wong's.

Arriving shortly after, they open the door to the Hammer and Anvil, the little bell on the door ringing out signalling the arrival of customers. "Just a minute" they hear the familiar voice and accent of Mrs Wong from behind the counter. "Oh my god Con Cravi!" yells out Mrs Wong, her head appearing from the door at the back. "Lái dào zhèlǐ zhang,con clavi jiù zài zhèlǐ!" Mrs Wong yells out, turning back out the back door. The heroes hear a bunch of short footsteps, followed by Mr Wong's face appearing out of the door. "Con Cravi!" he yells out and runs towards the group with his arms out, both Mr and Mrs Wong hug them all, happy to see the group of heroes. "Where have you been?" says Mrs Wong, and Ned recounts the tale of their time away in the Shadowfell and the reasons behind their disappearance. "Is very hard these days" says Mrs Wong, taking off her glasses in the process, "Pale Hand in charge of everything now. We must make weapons for them, but we receive no payment". "Yeah we're looking to fix that" says Ned. Mrs Wong takes a glance at Ned seeing his old axe on his back. "How long now, you had this one?" asks Mrs Wong, "Too long" says Ned "I've been using this axe we found at the mausoleum. "Give here, I fix for you" says Mrs Wong, taking it from Ned's back and handing it to Mr Wong. Mr Wong walks out the back and says "Give me a minute!" in a sing song voice before the heroes start to hear the sound of metal hitting metal along with the humming of some old songs by Mr Wong. "Actually, while we have you here Mrs Wong, do you have any arrows for me? Even one's I could potentially get made? asks Buffalo. "I cannot get a lot of things to make anything as we don't have much anymore, we have these grappling arrows?", "Yep I'll take them" says Buffalo, "Yup okay" says Mrs Wong. "I also have some flint, is there a way you could put it at the tip of an arrow so that it sparked when landing?" asks Buffalo, "Yup, I can make" she says, motioning with the come here signal. "Also bolas arrows, any chance of them?" asks Buffalo, "Yes can make that one too" says Mrs Wong, collecting more rope from the heroes. "Give me a couple of hour" she says, walking to the back of the shop to meet with Mr Wong. The heroes take a seat in the back room and wait, Mrs Wong brings over some tea and a bunch of biscuits they had not seen before. They eat and share more stories with the Wong's as they work, the Wong's explain the dominance of the Pale Hand whilst the heroes tell stories of the Shadowfell and what they had been through. The heroes ask about Ryland and the Wong's mention that he came in often to buy things such as horse shoes, pots and pans etc. "He still works for Hamelyn, one of the few staff he has left" says Mrs Wong as she works on Buffs arrows.

A few hours pass and the heroes are laughing with the Wong's like old, before Mr Wong turns around and says "Power of the tiger or power of the stag?" using his hands to indicate a pouncing tiger and the horns of a stag both in one motion. "I think I'll go with the stag" says Ned. "Okay!" he says returning back to work. Mrs Wong walks over to Buffalo with a leather looking bag, opening it up she reveals five bolas arrows, five flint arrows and five grappling arrows. "Thank you!" says Buffalo taking them out and inspecting the expert craftsmanship. "These are amazing, you did them so quickly!" says Buffalo. "Of course, I'm very good" Mrs Wong said with a confidence only she had. "Annnnd here" says Mr Wong, walking over to Ned with his axe. The handle looked different and had the symbol of a stag burnt in to the bottom of the hilt. Along the beard of the axe was also an imprint of a stag's head. "Woah! This is fancy!" says Ned, turning it over and looking at it from all angles. "Yes, very good this one" says Mr Wong, "Power of the stag will make you easy to charge and push people around", Ned looks on in awe, very happy with his upgrade. "Lastly" says Mrs Wong as she drags over what looked like a very heavy bag of something, she dumps it on the floor next to them and a few of the items fall out. "Here you go!" she says waving her hand at the heroes, seemingly a little annoyed. Dolgan leans down and picks one up, it was the pitons they had ordered with the Wong's before they left the Shadowfell. "Holy shit!" we forgot about these said Dolgan, "I know, you leave with us for so long, we think maybe to throw out but keep here in case you come back. You back now, you have now". "Thank you" Dolgan says with a smile handing them back to the rest of the group as they all have a look at them. "How much do we owe you?" says Scaly leaning in, "Nothing, we have deal from before remember" says Mrs Wong, "Oh yeah, that's right" Scaly says with a smile looking back at the heroes. "Let us give you some money anyway" says Ned, for both your troubles and to help out with everything going on at the moment. The heroes hand over 200 gold and thank the Wong's for everything. As they leave the shop Mr and Mrs Wong give the heroes a hug, Mrs Wong hugs Ned a little closer and whispers into his ear "Be careful, bad things are happening in Wolfspine" before giving him a kiss on the cheek and waving him off.

The heroes walk out of the Wong's onto the rainy streets of Wolfspine, the smell of burning wood rising up from chimneys hitting their lungs. "I know Ryland's parent's, they don't live too far from here, perhaps we could go there?" says Buffalo , "Sounds good to me" says Ned, "This way then" responds Buff as he starts walking down an old street towards the Aldridge's. The house wasn't too far away, nothing really ever was in Wolfspine, and they arrive at the front door not 15 minutes after leaving the Wongs, taking a minute or two to stop at a bakery for some bread. Buffalo knocks on the door of Ryland's parents, a small old lady opens the door and her eyes light up as soon as she see's Buffalo. "Buffalonio! Whatta surprise! Frrraaaank!" Cecilia yells over her shoulder as an equally as small old man appears behind her. "Oh my god, is that Buffalo!" he yells as he walks over to hug Buffalo, but Cecilia gets to Buff first, wrapping her arms around Buffalo's waist. "Whattaya doing here?" asks Cecilia "Pleasa come inside, it's so cold outside", "These are my friends Dolgan, Ned, Scaly and Buggy" says Buffalo, "Oh yes of course, please come in, come in". The heroes leave their wet jackets and robes at the front door and enter the warm house. Cecilia guides them into the living room, "Sit, sit" as she runs into another room, the heroes take a seat as they hear "Fraaank come helpa me", "Okay okay!" yells back Frank as he follows Cecilia into the kitchen. Buffalo raises his eyebrows at the heroes as they look somewhat confused at him. "Okay!" says Cecilia as she burst back into the room with a platter of cheeses, cold meats and olives, "Normally it's very hard to getta these ingredients so we have celebration today!". The heroes thank the Aldridge's and tuck in, gorging themselves on the wide array of Italian goods. "So Buffalonio, why you here?" says Frank, "Well we were in the area and I hadn't seen you in ages and wanted to catch up, how have things been?", "Very bad" says Cecilia, "Ever since the Pale Hand have moved in, it has been hard to live in Wolfspine". "Yeah so we've heard, have you seen Ryland recently?" Buffalo asks, immediately Cecilia's eyes start to water. Frank grabs Cecilia as she starts to weep into his shoulder. "Why woulda go ahead and say something like that?" says Frank consoling Cecilia whilst glaring at Buff, "I'm...I'm so sorry" says Buffalo as he looks around the room for some support from his friends. "He's dead!" wails Cecilia, into Frank's chest now, sobbing profusely. "He's dead?" asks Ned, "No he's not, we saw him a couple of weeks ago", "No it was months and months ago, remember the time difference Ned" says Dolgan in a whisper. "Well, not technically, I mean we saw him in the Shadowfell and the Wong's said he has been going to their store for a couple of months now", "Oh yeah....what the hell?" says Dolgan. Cecilia looks up from Franks chest at the group, "You seen him? He's dead!". "He most definitely is not" responds Ned, "NED!" Dolgan whispers under his breath. "Well he isn't!", "When did you last see him? asks Buffalo to Frank, "2 years ago, he went into the Underdark and we never see him again", "So you never saw his body or had a funeral?", "We had a funeral" Frank says. "Hmmm, well Frank, Cecilia, he definitely is not dead, we have a few eye witnesses saying they saw him. On top of that, we saw him in both about 8 months ago and in the Shadowfell. He works for Hamelyn". "Hamelyn? Hamelyn Falstaff?", that's the one. Cecilia gets up, muttering to herself, "I think you should leave" says Frank, "Buffalo, you are always welcome here, but today is not a good day". "I'm sorry for the inconvenience" says Buffalo, "I'll pop round another time", "No worries" says Frank guiding them to the door.

"Let's go see Hamelyn then" says Buffalo wiping away some of the rain from his face, it wasn't enough rain to hide from but enough that after a while it got annoying. "Yeah, at least he might be able to tell us where Ryland is right now" says Dolgan as the heroes start walking over to the west side of Wolfspine. They trek it down the wet streets for about 10 minutes before arriving at Hamelyn's tavern and main base of operations, or rather, where it use to be. The King's Coin Tavern used to be a place of elegance, perfectly trimmed hedges lined the front entrance, the walls were kept in perfect condition, meticulous awnings with filigree filling each corner and lines of yellow roses in under each window. It no longer looked like that. The hedges were gnarled sticks, with all their leaves gone. The walls covered with water damage, mould growing all over. The rectangular pots for the roses were still under each window, but more of them cracked with dry soil spilling out onto the ground, the roses long gone. Even the sign for the King's Coin, a symbol so well known in Wolfspine was broken and decrepit. "What has happened here?" says Scaly, looking over the front of the tavern. "No idea" Buffalo says stepping past him and pushing open the front door. It wasn't locked, it was hardly hinged. Buffalo peeks his head and looks left and right, to the left shows the old cloak room filled with spider webs and a bunch of old coats thrown onto the bench. To the right was the old weapons collection area. The King's Coin had a strict no weapon policy and offered a collection service as you walked in. They would give you a ticket and you could store it there until you left.

"It's safe" says Buffalo, taking a step inside the building. The once ornate looking reception's tables were all but charred, some of them remained un-burnt and covered with cobwebs. The long running bar with it's brass banisters was covered with dust. "Holy shit!" says Ned, looking around the place "I never really like this place, but it's really sad to see it like this". Suddenly a light sparks in Ned's eye, "The rug! The rug is still here!" says Ned running over the bear skin rug he had been after since their last visit 9 or so months ago. Ned bends over to pick it up as a voice from the darkness says "Put down the rug" in an assertive tone. "FUCK!" yells Dolgan, almost jumping out of his skin. The heroes turn around to where the voice came from and see a long haired man sitting in the corner, head against his hand with his other hand occupied by a glass of some type of brown liquor. "Hamelyn?" asks Buffalo, squinting to see better, "Aye" says Hamelyn, raising his glass just a little, but never moving his head. "What...what are you doing here?", "It's my pub isn't it" he says in a gruff voice. The heroes don't respond. "Sorry" says Hamelyn, "I...come, have a drink", he raises the bottle next to him shaking it a little before placing it back down, "Glasses behind the bar, help yourself". The heroes walk over and grab a glass each, Ned hands one down to Buggy. Sitting around Hamelyn's table, Buffalo starts the conversation "How're you doing Hamelyn, it's been a while", "Aye it has, could've used you during the takeover of the Pale Hand", "We were in the sh...", "Shadowfell, I know. Ryland said he saw you there". "Ryland is actually who we're looking for right now!" says Buffalo, "Why? ah..whatever it doesn't really matter I guess. He's off on a job for me at the moment. At Sal's he is, picking up some parchment for me". The heroes look and nod at each other, silently agreeing on their next place to visit. "What happened here Hamelyn?" asks Dolgan, "The pale hand happened" he says, "The pale hand would've been just starting to pop up more regularly when you guys left for the Shadowfell. From there, they took over everything". "How?" asks Ned, "Well, at first it was just their priest and a few followers, but he has that hand thing that he can do so many tricks with. Wolfspine is mainly made up of simple folk, simple parlour tricks can bewilder and fascinate most people. That alongside a charismatic leader with a penchant for militant dominance and you get a city under the thumb. That's it really, nothing terribly special, the story is as old as civilization". "It's so weird, coming back from what seems like a couple of weeks only to find your city in ruins" says Ned, "Yeah" Hamelyn responds under his breath, clearly done with talking. "Salvador's you say?" says Buffalo, "That's where Ryland is?", "Yep. Well that's at least where he should be". The heroes slowly get themselves up from the table, "Hamelyn" says Ned, placing his hand on Hamelyn's shoulder, "Don't give up. Con Clavi will make things right", "Okay" Hamelyn says with a chuckle. The heroes make their way out of the old tavern, the floorboards creaking under them as they walk. "Shut the door on your way out" yells Hamelyn as they exit the building.

Once back on the street, Buffalo turns around to look at the rest of the group, the rain beating down quite heavily now. "So I guess we go to Salvador's now. Even if Ryland's not there, it will be good to catch up with him, get his story and potentially see what he's got for sale". They walk back over to the east side once more, being careful to dodge the larger puddles constantly being filled by the rain. It's a quick walk to Sal's, no more than 10 minutes. "Ringaling" the bell above the door dings as the heroes enter. Salvador looks up from the his bench and yells "Con Clavi!" ecstatically, "What a sight for sore eyes!". Salvador runs over to the only other customer in the shop at the time and ushers him out, "Come back later sorry!" he says almost pushing the person out of the door before locking it behind him. Sal turns around, "Boys! Welcome to Salvador's Special soft-covers I know it's a little different from before" he put's the back of his hand against his face and says quietly "Things are a little different if you hadn't of noticed", "Yeah we have" Ned laughs nervously. "Where have you been?" asks Sal, "It's a long story that involves the Shadowfell, time dilation and a giant centipede" responds Dolgan. "Fair enough" says Sal, looking a little worried. He runs up to the door and pulls the blinds down. "Come out the back" he says with a little delight in his eyes, the heroes follow. Stepping through the next door, the heroes find themselves in a circular room, shelves packed to the brim with different books of all sorts, what looks like a small chemistry set bubbling over on the right with a table in the middle full of books stacked to the brim. "I have SO many books guys, what do you need? I have multiple copies of Cooking With Bargo, Wolfspine : A History and Agriculture, Who Needs It?" his little hands rub together as he walks past copies of each book. "2 gold pieces per book, that's all! Real cheap and a great help with a lot of daily duties around Wolfspine!" says Sal, "I'll take cooking with Bargo" says Scaly, "Excellent!" Scaly barely finishes his sentence before Sal chimes in, "Buuut you guys are heroes, you probably need something different don't you, what about theeeese ones?" Sal moves out of the way of the bookshelf behind him, pulling one book down as a small hatch opens revealing another smaller bookshelf behind. "These are superb books, guaranteed to make you stronger, fight harder and dodge better" he says as the heroes lean in and have a look at the small hidden shelf of books. "We have here; Misdeeds and other misfortunes, Blasphemy or Chastity?, Charmed I'm Sure, Wise Guy Eyyyyy?, Strong Boy Do Strong Things and Hey Poindexter!", Buffalo reaches a hand out and closes his eyes, slowly waving his hand over the books. "How much?" Buffalo says, opening his eyes and looking at Sal, "100 gold pieces for the first two, 150 gold pieces for every other book" Sal says. "We'll take them all for 600 gold pieces" Buffalo says, "Woah woah woah" Scaly interjects, "They're just books Buffalo, why would we pay 600 gold for them", "They're more than that, trust me" says Buffalo, "Ahhh I see you know you're literature" says Sal "600 for the lot is fine". Scaly reluctantly hands it over "This better be worth it" he says to Buffalo under his breath.

"Thank you" says Sal, "Business has been exceptionally difficult these days, this money will help me out for another few months. Ever since the Pale Hand took over, I have been struggling to make ends meet. No one buys anything, no one can afford it. Other than a few people still daring to buy magical items, I have to rely on books that don't sell because no one wants them". "Well, glad we can help" says Scaly a little disgruntled in his speech, "By the by, what other customers are still willing to risk it all for magical items?" asks Ned, "A few of them, I'm sure you can understand that their names need to be kept quiet. In fact one of them is here now, I assume you would know each other, his name is Ryland".

"Oh yes!" says Buff, an old sailor friend of mine, "I thought you guys would know each other, he's just through here looking through some of my parchment" says Sal pulling across on a bookcase close to him. The bookcase starts to move and pushes the other bookcases as the entire room moves in a circle, spinning until another door is revealed. Sal opens the door and through it the heroes see Ryland standing looking at some books inside a rectangular room, Ryland looks up seeing the group as a smile forms across his face "Guys! You made it back from the Shadowfell!"

The heroes walk inside the room with Sal standing in the middle, "What a meeting of rebels!" says Sal excitedly. "How have you been?" asks Ryland looking at Con Clavi. "It's been rough man, we had a hell of time in the Shadowfell, came out and got lost in the living forest and now come back to Wolfspine only to find our town is in ruins from the Pale Hand" says Buffalo, "How have you been?" about the same old friend says Ryland, "I'm doing jobs for Hamelyn still, but obviously I don't have access to the lavish lifestyle I led before anymore. It seems all of us going to the Shadowfell was perhaps a bad idea". Ned slowly moves in front of the door blocking exit for Ryland with an intense stare on his face, Ryland notices watching with a confused look on his face. "What are you buying for Hamelyn?" asks Dolgan, "Some parchment, I'm not sure what he needs it for, but he is often planning against Pale Hand these days", Ned continues to concentrate on Ryland noticing sweat beads start to form on his brow. "Why're you nervous Ryland?" asks Ned, "I'm...I'm not nervous" says Ryland in a shaky voice, "You're starting to sweat" says Ned, "Well, I feel like I'm being interrogated a little, plus for some reason you've decided to block the door....Buff...what's...what's going on?". Buff sighs with his head down as Ryland looks on scared at the rest of the group, "When we came back from the Shadowfell, we exited out in the living forest, whilst we were there, we were brought to court by an archfey and a bunch of forest creatures who accused me of stealing the light of the forest" says Buffalo, "Not only that, but just before all this started I was accused and placed in jail for stealing something from the Roan Manor. Both times it wasn't me and both times someone that looked like me or dressed like me or something was seen". "And you think I what...pretended to be you and did these crimes?" asks Ryland. "Well, we've been told on good authority that you currently have the light of the forest in your possession" says Buffalo, "I don't" responds Ryland.

"Hamelyn did ask me to go and get the light of the forest" says Ryland "But by the time I got there, it had already been stolen by the Pale Hand, I never even got to see it" said Ryland looking a little more relaxed that Buff and explained their motives. Sal looks up and says "Well, I'll leave you guys to it", looking a little worried as he scoots past Ned, "Door please" he says looking up at Ned. Ned opens the door without looking back at Sal, never losing contact with Ryland the entire time. He closes the door with a click behind Sal, "Guy's I don't have the light" says Ryland looking even more worried now that Sal was gone. "Give it to us" says Ned, "Give you what?! I don't have anything!" says Ryland, Ned notices Ryland's hand move into his rucksack. "What are you reaching for?" asks Dolgan, "Something to protect myself with, I feel like I'm seconds away from being attacked", Ned nods. Buffalo places his hand across Ned blocking him, "If you don't have it, then bring us to where it is" Buffalo says staring Ryland in the eye. "I told you where it is and you know this town Buff, it's with the Pale Hand, at their church. If your memory is that bad, I can bring you to the church itself but I'm not going in there". "Why not?" says Buffalo never moving his gaze off of Ryland, "Because they'll kill me! I still work for Hamelyn and they know that!", "Why do they even have or want the light of the forest?", "I HAVE NO IDEA. I'M NOT IN THE PALE HAND" yells Ryland. Ryland was sweating buckets at this point and a little out of breath, "I assume they're doing the same thing as you, they already have the other Aldrich relic and they're going around collecting them". "What?! What other relic?" asks Ned moving off of the door and towards Ryland more inquisitive than defensive now, "The Pale Hand", "Yes I know it's the Pale Hand Church but...", "No, the relic is THE PALE HAND" Ryland's voice rises as he gets more annoyed. "They have the relic, the Pale Hand, it's what the church is founded on". Buffalo turns around to everyone else "If one of the relics is enough to form a cult and take over a town, imagine the power they could have with two. I don't think Ryland did it guys", "So I can go then?" asks Ryland, listening to the heroes from behind. "Yeah, I'm sorry man...Ned give him some space" Buffalo says, Ryland picks up his parchment and walks through the door, as it opens Sal runs back from the door, apparently he was listening in on everything. "So uhhhh...everything's all okay orrr?" says Sal with a shaky voice, "Yeah" says Buffalo, "Just a misunderstanding". Ryland looks back at Buffalo as he says this, shaking his head, "Just these today please Sal", "That'll be 20 gold pieces". Ryland hands over the gold and looks back at the group about to say something, but turns around and leaves, opening the lock to Sal's himself as the door swings open. The sound of a wintery storm rushes in from outside before the door closes behind Ryland.

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itisnteasyforeveryonestuff-blog · 6 years

Text

The back story continued...

After 1 year and 4 months of trying, on May 1st 2018 we found out we were pregnant! I can not begin to describe to you how elated I felt. For the first time in my life I felt utterly and completely content. Everything felt just right. I was growing a human being, my human being, my child, half of me and half of the man I adore, what more could I want?

We decided to tell our close family about the pregnancy at 7 weeks because we were about to fly to Paris to stay visit A’s family and we knew they would offer copious amount of good wine, which I would obviously have to decline for some reason. We decided the headache of lying during the trip was too much. As well as this I think the main reason some people choose not to tell anyone until later on is the fear of miscarriage. We knew if this were to happen we would tell them anyway. So we bought our parents mugs with ‘FREAK OUT YOU’RE GOING TO BE A GRANDMA’ and ‘FREAK OUR YOU’RE GOING TO BE A GRANDPA’ written on them. We casually gave them the mugs and I will never ever forget the pure joy and emotion spread across their faces as they unwrapped them. I will treasure that memory. It goes without saying they were overjoyed! The forward planning: gender, names, decorating the nursery etc naturally followed. Our due date was New Years Eve - even better as the christmas and new year period is our family’s favourite. We were all so ready for this baby’s arrival, already.

On May 14th A took me to Paris to meet some of his family who live there. They have a beautiful house with a lake at the bottom of the garden. On May 16th it was our 8 year anniversary. That day he took me out in the rowing boat on the lake, with a hamper of food and champagne (1 glass for him). As we put the oars down and stopped in the middle of the lake to eat he got down on one knee and asked me to marry him!!! The two happiest days of my life so far had happened in the same month. I was going to be a mother and a wife! It was so special, I will never forget that intimate moment between us and the words we exchanged.

So there it was, every woman’s dream proposal. My dream man and my dream baby. But that dream soon turned into my worst nightmare. The previous night, May 15th, I experienced some cramping. We had walked around Paris that day so assumed I had overdone it and just needed to rest. We were obviously concerned and had a little cry together in each other’s arms, before we fell asleep. Please higher power, let this be a happy ending was my final thought.

The next morning, we awoke, on our 8 year anniversary, in Paris, totally in love and the cramping had stopped. I got up and went to the toilet as usual, wiped and there was blood. A fair amount of fresh red blood. The colour drained from my face. It’s our anniversary...do I tell A? Was my first thought. Of course I did I could not have kept it to myself. I clearly looked like I had seen a ghost as I walked into the bedroom. He asked me what was wrong and I told him in a shakey voice ‘I’m bleeding’. His face dropped. Little did I know he was going to ask me to marry him that day. And this was happening. Later on he told me he considered not asking me, I am so glad he did. We rationalised it as ‘some cramping and bleeding can be normal in early pregnancy - lets not jump to conclusions yet and enjoy our day’. For the rest of the day, even whilst on the rowing boat I had a dull ache in my womb and in my heart. I knew. I think he knew.

The proposal happened and it was utterly wonderful, albeit tainted by worry and sadness. The following day we were flying home. In the morning the cramping and bleeding had stopped - some hope! We arrived in the airport, 4 hours early and watched the end of a series we had been addicted to. It ended and the pain began. Excruciating pain in my womb. I went to the toilet, I was bleeding alot. I had no sanitary wear with me and nowhere to buy any. I rolled up lots of toilet tissue and shoved it in my knickers. I took some deep breathes on the toilet, gathered myself together and walked back to A. Walked back feeling dizzy and heartbroken. There was nowhere to buy painkillers - A searched high and low. A and I stood queuing to board the plane in shock and in silence. A knew I was unable to talk and needed to focus on coping with this pain and my emotions in this very public place.I felt like I might pass out with the pain but all I could think was ‘you’re nearly home, you’re nearly home, just get me home, just get me home’. Our seats were separate and we had to fight with business men to move so we could be together. I told them I was scared of flying, they were very unreasonable but eventually moved. It was an issue we did not need in that moment - I wanted to scream at them. We sat down and I put my headphones in and completely and utterly surrendered to the pain. There was nothing I could do but surrender. After 45 minutes the plane began it’s decent. The closer we got to the ground the more emotional I felt, sadness, worry about how A was feeling and coping, utter relief to be landing home. As I stood up to exist the plan I felt a gush in my knickers. I explained to A that we needed to find a toilet asap as I only had toilet tissue as protection. I found the toilet and had passed a huge clot. I looked through it and found it was only clotted blood - thank goodness. We queued for the passport check and queued for the bag collection. I wasn’t sure how long I could hold my emotion in for. We got our bags and A ran through the airport to buy sanitary pads and paracetamol. We started walking to the car, I was in so much pain. We couldn’t find the car. A left me with the bags to search for it - eventually he found it but the gate was shut and he couldn’t drive it towards me. He walked back to me to get the bags and we walked together to the car. Each tear began to roll down my cheeks with each step towards the car - I was nearly in a safe space. I got in and wailed and wailed and wailed, the loudest release of raw emotion possible for a human being to make.

We were supposed to be happy. We were home from Paris, engaged!!! We walked into our flat and A’s parents had left big ‘congratulations on your engagement balloons’ outside the front door. We took them inside whilst sobbing. My mum came over to comfort me. A was struggling to look us both in the eye - he was clearly very emotional. I was heartbroken for him. Whilst in the airport and on the plane and at that point he was my biggest concern. That might sound odd but I so wanted him to be ok and he clearly wasn’t. He had gone to so much effort to propose in the most special way - and he had pulled it out of bag that is for sure. This was so not fair on him. Obviously when I shared this concern with him he explained I was his main concerns and that he felt so helpless as I was clearly in so much pain. I guess that is love.

The next day I was scanned and the worst was confirmed. ‘I am so sorry, it isn’t good news. But it’s nearly over now, the bleeding should settle’. The next morning I went to the toilet...’plop’. I instinctively scooped ‘it’ straight out of the toilet. There is was a 7 week embryo?foetus?baby?ourbaby?. I asked A if he wanted to see it - he declined. I flushed it down the toilet..I flushed it down the toilet. I flushed the embryo?foetus?baby?ourbaby? down the toilet. It felt so cold and final. But what else was I supposed to do with it.

We were broken, are broken. A hole has been permanently burnt into my heart and will be there forever. Some days I can’t feel it, some days it hurts so so much.

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