#Somewhere Beneath the Wide Sky | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

megamindsecretlair · 15 days

Note

Can you please write an Aaron Pierre smut fic or love story? 🙏🏽

A/N: Ya'll don't get me started on this man. Just don't. I'm obsessed.

Wild

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. PWP, cursing, PIV, fingering (female receiving) teasing, size kink, dirty talk, degradation kink if you squint, rough sex, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some, I'm rushing, just let me know.

Summary: You went on a small camping trip with Terry, who graciously helped to introduce you to hiking. After a critter destroys your tent, you stupidly volunteer to share his. Shouldn’t be too bad, right?

Word Count: 5,859k

AO3 Link

A/N: THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A DRABBLE. Don't ask for him no more! (kidding, kinda) I will never be normal about him. It just kept going. My shoulder has been on fire for the past two weeks so I'm taking a much needed break. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

You stepped carefully along the ground. You made sure not a twig nor rock slipped beneath your shoes as you picked your way through the thicket of trees. Terry gave you a head start, closing his eyes and turning around with a smug look on his face.

You’ll show him though. There was no way he could track you this time. The ground was dry, you didn’t step on anything, and you worked with intention. The goal was to get to the river before he could catch up to you.

So far, it had to have been at least fifteen minutes since he started counting. That was a good enough lead, right?

You were distracted. But something had to keep your mind off of your pursuer. You and Terry had formed an easy friendship, seeing each other around the gym. When he mentioned hiking was a hobby of his, you mentioned that you wanted to get into it but wasn’t sure where to start.

You should have kept your mouth shut. Spending nearly every week up close and personal with him was a new level of personal hell. He was so damn pretty. You didn’t often call men pretty, because…well…but he was!

The most striking eyes ever rimmed in dark eyelashes as if he were wearing eyeliner. Wide nose and even wider lips. An adorable, incredible smile. You stepped behind a tree and paused for a moment, bending over to grab your knees.

Fuck you were out of shape. And trying to keep up with Terry’s tall ass was a struggle. Beyond a struggle. For every step he took, you had to scurry behind. And he didn’t believe in breaks. Fuckin’ ex military.

You breathed through your nose though that only made breathing difficult. Didn’t help that you were horny as hell either. You leaned up and pressed your back against the bark of the tree, hoping no critters tried to ride home with you.

You took off your hat and wiped your brow, looking at your surroundings. The woods itself had thick trees, fluffy leaves, and branches that stretched high in the sky. Dots of sunlight slanted, giving you a peek at the bright blue sky. Terry would call it quits soon. You pouted. This was the second mini camping trip you’d been on with him and you hadn’t been able to escape him.

You replaced your hat on your head and risked a glance behind you. No sign of Terry. Good. You grinned and took off again, picking carefully through the woods. The water was close. You could hear the current from where you were.

Almost there, oop around that rock, and ahhh, almost stepped on a rock. Ha. In his gorgeous face.

You almost laughed but it would give away your position. You pressed your hand to the nearest tree as you swung around it just as strong arms pushed you into the tree.

You screamed as Terry moved in behind you, pressing his chest against your back. “Found you,” he said. His voice was low and deep, emerging from somewhere deep in his wide chest.

You groaned and slapped the tree. “How the hell did you find me?” You asked.

Terry chuckled and stepped away from you. You missed the heat of his body already. You schooled your features and turned around with a smirk on your face. You folded your arms across your chest so he couldn’t see how hard you were gasping for air. For more than one reason.

“You’re loud as hell,” he said.

“Was not! I was being quiet! I made sure I was!”

Terry looped his fingers through his hiking backpack and tilted his head at you. “I’ve been following you for ten minutes,” he said.

You looked away, back the way you came. Shit. What did he hear? What did he see? You may or may not talk to yourself to get yourself through shit. You ran through the past ten minutes, trying to think of what you said or did or if you drew any attention to the horrible crush you had on him.

He had to know his appeal. But you didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable. You weren’t only friends with him because he was hot. That was loser shit. You genuinely valued his opinions, his outlook. You loved that he had a way of making everyone at ease with just a few quiet words or a playful look.

But that goddamn body. You looked back towards his face, because if you looked at his shirt, dripping with sweat, you’d combust on the spot. Terry smirked as if he could read your thoughts and pointed the way you came.

“You have to be aware of your surroundings if you do find yourself in a situation like this. It’s not about being quiet. It’s about moving fast, moving smart, and trust nothing,” he said.

You put your hands on your hips and pouted. “One of these days you’re not gonna be able to catch me,” you said.

He chuckled. “I’d still catch you,” he said. He smirked and turned around, heading into the woods, away from the water.

You’d just have to train when he wasn’t around being a distraction. You sighed, trying to not let the sting of failure drag you into the dumps. You walked behind him, your consolation prize being his nice, gorgeous ass.

He wore camo pants and a gray t-shirt, hiking boots, and tall thick socks. The pants really showed off his assets. You bit your lip imagining what it’d be like pressed up against all that piece of man.

“Keep up!” He barked out. You huffed and whined, jogging to catch up to him.

“You do know you’re like, eight feet tall right?” You asked.

He looked at you out of the corner of his eye, giving him an animalistic side eye. His eyes were lethal. Your breathing stuttered and you hoped he didn’t hear it because god. “And you must be part lion? Part tiger? Yo ass ain’t natural,” you said, hoping to diffuse whatever spell he managed to weave whenever he trained those eyes on you.

Terry chuckled. “You trynna say I’m not human?”

You didn’t answer right away, only because you were trying not to huff and puff as you talked. You needed your inhaler, but you also left it in your tent. Yes, yes, you knew it was a dumb move. But hell, there was nothing more embarrassing than having to stand there and use it.

“I mean…” you said, letting the sentence dangle.

Terry gave you that side eye again, his mouth twisted in a frown. You gave him an innocent smile back, batting your eyes all innocent-like. Terry only shook his head, the corners of his mouth drifting down as he tried to hide a smile.

You walked together in silence, grateful if only because your lungs were burning. When you decided to go on this journey of getting in shape and getting your mind right, you never thought you’d be in the woods. Let alone with someone like Terry.

He was competent, knowing so much about living off the grid and being prepared. He carried all kinds of tools with him. You had a thirst for knowledge, asking him a million questions. He answered every single one too. If you could clone him and pass him out like candy to your friends, you would. There needed to be more men like him.

A trail of ripped paper littered the ground like patches of snow in the middle of fall. “No,” you gasped.

You sped up as Terry’s hands shot out to stop you, but you pushed past him, running towards your campground. Your tent was on the far left, torn to pieces and ripped apart. Your journal had been shredded, ripped apart by some kind of animal. Your clothes were thrown about.

You were only out here for a day and night, getting a tiny taste of camping thanks to Terry. You’d never been. Growing up an inner city kid, Black parents didn’t play that shit. The school yard was your jungle. You were threatened with going to stay out in the woods if you didn’t like living under their roof. It wasn’t a regular occurrence for you or your friends growing up.

The small fire pit had been picked over as well. You made a wailing sound as you tried to gather up the ripped pieces of paper. All those memories gone. All those feelings torn up. Some pieces flew with the breeze and you took off your own backpack, trying hard not to cry.

“You can’t run ahead like that. What if it was dangerous?” Terry scolded you. His voice got deeper, eyes narrow. He bent down to help you pick up the pieces of paper.

“Please, don’t! I got it,” you said. Perhaps a bit harsher than necessary. You weren’t going to cry. It was a minor setback. Things happened. You play stupid games and you won stupid prizes.

Perhaps your parents were right. You should’ve kept your ass inside. Without all these damn bugs, and twigs, and fucking leaves tangling in your braids.

Terry busied himself with picking through your tent, analyzing what may have happened. Home. When you got home, you would be able to break down. Not here. Not with Terry right there. His ass didn’t skip a beat.

“Might’ve been a bear. Or something similar looking for food,” he shouted over his shoulder.

You nodded but weren’t sure if he saw you. You only wanted to clean up your mess. You had so many ideas you wanted to jot down when you got back. So many observations, thoughts that raced through your mind on your hike. Now those thoughts would be gone too. Terry’s one rule this morning was no cellphone.

You could do a day without it. Boy, were you wrong. You made a mental note to keep your journal with you from now on. Or start carrying a smaller notebook for bullet points and then journal at home, like a sane woman.

“You can take my tent. I’ll sleep out here and make sure nothing circles back,” he said.

You stopped from grabbing the last piece of torn paper from a bush nearby and turned to face him. “I won’t make you do that,” you said.

Terry stood up and dusted his hands, unstrapping his back from across his chest. “I didn’t ask,” he said.

You snagged the last piece and carried your pathetic pile to your ruined tent. You liked that tent. You just bought that tent. Did the fucking bear think money grew on trees? You kicked at the black and orange heap and faced Terry.

“I didn’t either,” you said.

Terry watched you with those deadly eyes as he dropped his bag to the ground. He used the bottom of his shirt to clean his sweaty face. Damn. His words drew your attention back to his face. “I’ve been trained to survive outdoors. You haven’t.”

You tucked the pile of paper into your ruined tent and then faced him once more. Terry was about to meet a hard rock. “Don’t start with the macho act, okay? We’re adults. I’m not making you stay outside while I’m tucked away all nice and toasty in your tent,” you said.

A smile curved his lips as he stepped closer, using his height to his advantage. You had to look up otherwise you’d just be staring at his chest. You stood your ground and tilted your head. He may have the advantage. He may be just as stubborn as you were. But you did not back down. Ever. Some called it a toxic trait but there were other ways to survive. Everybody had something.

Terry’s eyes were even more dangerous up close. Not quite blue. Not quite brown. Some mix of the two that was hypnotizing in the way he coldly assessed you. You didn’t know what he was thinking. His poker face was lethal. Not a hint or a clue.

“What do you suggest, then?” He asked.

A hotel, a shower, a bed, twenty four hours, and a bottle of lotion. But that was neither here nor there. You licked your lips and blinked at him. “We can share. Or do you not want my cooties in your tent?” You asked.

That surprised a laugh out of Terry. He shook his head. “Fine. But I snuggle in my sleep,” he said.

His jaw flexed. He looked expectantly at you, lifting an eyebrow like he expected you to back down. You only raised your chin. “Good, I get cold at night,” you said.

He blinked slowly and nodded, rocking back on his heels before stepping away. “I’ll help with your tent then, before we lose the light,” he said.

When he turned around, you sighed quietly. Shaking out your sweaty palms. Oh god. Ohgodohgodohgod. What the hell did you do that for?

You berated yourself as you and Terry worked as a team, removing your items from inside and rolling up your tent. He secured it with rope from inside his backpack and you had a wayward thought that made you laugh out loud.

Terry had knelt on the ground, one knee up, as he secured your tent. He looked up at your laugh and you waved him off.

“What is it?” He asked, a small smile on his lips.

“Nothing, it’s stupid,” you said.

“I want to know,” he said.

You pinched your lips, wondering if you should say. Aw hell, you had to get it out now otherwise you’d be giggling in your sleep all night. “You kind of remind me of Dora,” you said.

“The kid’s show?” He asked.

You nodded and tried to hold in the laugh, but your stomach cramped from trying. His expression only made it worse as he stared at you like you were crazy. Maybe you were. Maybe you didn’t need to be in a tent with him all night.

Terry chuckled and shook his head. “Magic backpack?” He asked.

You nodded and burst into laughter. His eyes narrowed but he smiled at you. “Come on, giggles, we’re not done,” he said.

“Work, work, work, is that all you think about?” You asked.

“No,” he said, his voice low and soft. You tilted your head at him and he gave you a funny look. Assessing you again. He didn’t elaborate further as he moved your sleeping bag inside of his tent.

“I’ll roll mine in a bit. Let’s clean this up some more before we hit the stream,” he said.

You thought about look on his face as you cleaned up around the campfire. There was no food to be found, so whatever creature or critter that did it, just made a whole lot of mess for nothing.

You threw away your journal pages into the small trash bag Terry had tied high in the tree above your campground. He secured it back in place after getting it down for you, gifting you with a side view of his abs. Good god, the man was built in all the right ways. God took his time with this one.

Nice and clean with only one tent now, Terry let you go to the stream to freshen up first. The woods lacked fresh amenities but it was one of those parks that did have strategically placed rest areas. You handled business and then went down to the small stream a ways down from the campsite.

It was within shouting distance and you used the fresh water to clean the sweat from your body. You returned, feeling much better now that your skin wasn’t so sticky. Terry went next, disappearing from view and already lifting his shirt.

You took a risky glance over your shoulder, admiring the cut of his back as he stalked through the woods. His narrow hips moved with ease, ass in full view. Your mouth watered as your canine caught on your lower lip. You’d eat that man alive if given half the chance.

Terry’s head was on a swivel, looking around just on GP. You hurriedly looked away, grabbing your inhaler from your pocket. You retrieved it during clean up but was too nervous to use it in front of him.

Lot of good it did you now, but you took two deep puffs to clean all this fresh air from your lungs. The one thing you did not have in common with your ancestors was a major love of the outdoors. Fuck the air and nature. Give you a hot bath and TV any day of the week.

Terry returned and you eased into conversation, talking about your families as the light disappeared. Terry started a fire, stoking it with a stick. You talked about life goals, hobbies, or anything really. Watched as he moved, talked, or the way he laughed. Listening to his voice was soothing. Welcoming. Terry caught fish in the river earlier and cooked it over that fire when it was good and ready.

You yawned one too many times and Terry chuckled. “Head inside, I’ll do one last check,” he said.

“We didn’t get to tell any scary stories,” you said.

Terry shook his head and smiled. He was already dimming the fire, carefully stamping out hot rocks in the pit he built. Watching that man build a fire shouldn’t have got you that hot and bothered but it did.

“Next time, if you’re up for it.”

“You never stop, huh?” You asked, sleepily.

Terry shrugged. “Not much to slow down for,” he said. He looked at you over the fire. The light from the flames danced across his skin, making him seem even more otherworldly. An understanding passed between you and you nodded, getting up without issue.

You patted his shoulder, understanding the note of loss in his voice. You’d been there. You didn’t understand his pain, but you understood loss all the same. You took a deep breath before heading inside his tent.

It smelled like him. Like all, pure male. You whimpered, climbing on top of your sleeping bag. He had a nice tent. Much nicer than yours, even though his was well used. It had been folded and unfolded so many times, the grooves were permanent at this point.

His sleeping bag was brown and looked more like a blanket compared to yours. Did his big ass even fit inside of a sleeping bag? How did he normally sleep? Did he have a bed big enough to hold him? Did he sleep sideways?

You were only half sure that he was playing when he said he snuggled in his sleep. He never mentioned a girlfriend or a wife. Did he have big pillows to snuggle? You stared at the domed ceiling of the tent, picturing what Terry looked like at rest.

It only made your pussy flutter picturing his smooth, dark skin. Eyes closed. Mouth slightly parted. Did he snore? You probably should have asked that before volunteering to share a tent with him.

The rustle of Terry entering the tent made you shriek and sit up, like you were caught with your hand in a cookie jar. Terry stopped at the entrance and looked at you. “Just me. Do you want me to stay outside?”

“No. Um. I was just thinking,” you said. Thinking about sucking that –

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you said, quietly.

You couldn’t see his face now that the fire was out. He was just a solid wall of black, crab-walking into the tent and then zipping it up behind him. You were acutely aware of every move he made. Every sigh. Every huff of breath.

“Go to sleep,” he said.

“How the hell do you know I’m still awake?” You asked.

“You’re too loud,” he said.

You could hear the smile in his voice and you rolled your eyes. “Heard that too,” he said.

“Oh, shut it!” You said, rolling over to your side. Terry chuckled as he climbed into his sleeping bag.

You shut your eyes and focused on your breathing, focused on falling asleep. Terry made it surprisingly easy. His gentle breathing was its own type of sound machine, lulling you to sleep along with the crickets outside. The soft hum of the water nearby. Before you knew it, you were out like a light.

Rustling jerked you awake. It was hard to truly knock out in the middle of nowhere, next to someone like Terry, and not still be keen to every single sound. You were feeling hot as hell, like you woke up in a sauna.

Terry’s arms were wrapped around you and you were snuggled up under his neck, inhaling his deep masculine scent. You cracked an eye open, though you still couldn’t see. Pitch black outside and inside the tent.

Terry hummed as more rustling turned your attention from the fact that he really did snuggle in his sleep. The noise made your heart speed up, clogged up your throat, made it hard to breathe.

Terry tightened his arms around you and drew his face down until his mouth was against your cheek. “Shh,” he said, too quiet. You didn’t think him capable.

He extracted himself from you, moving in a way that didn’t make noise at all. He even managed to unzip the tent without making a sound. He only unzipped it far enough to peek out.

You weren’t a damn damsel in distress. So you rolled over, not as quiet as him, and joined him at the entrance. There was enough light from the moon to cast a low glow over the campsite. There was nothing truly out there, but the rustling continued. The sound increased, and got closer and closer.

Your hand flew to Terry’s exposed knee, gripping on for dear life as an actual deer walked out of bushes and sniffed the air. You sighed, deflating against Terry’s side. Terry sighed as well, unzipping the tent more to get a good look.

The both of you watched the deer nose around the campsite, likely following the smell of Terry’s good cooking. It’s ears swayed back and forth, picking through nothing as Terry was meticulous about cleaning up after himself.

“You were scared,” he whispered, shaking his head.

“So were you!” You fired back.

“Nah, I was good,” he said.

“You liar,” you said, with a chuckle.

“It’s okay if you were scared, you know,” he said.

“Ain’t nobody scared of no damn deer. And ain’t nobody need your protection,” you said. You poked him in his chest. When did he find a chance to ditch his shirt? You had been snuggled next to that hunk of meat and he didn’t have a shirt on?!

“No?” Terry leaned over, his lips grazing your ear. “Go out there and say hi.” He tried to push you out of the tent and you fought him, trying not to spook the deer. One wrong move and the deer took off.

You giggled as you wrestled with Terry. He was so big, you didn’t stand a chance. It didn’t take much effort to subdue you, but you bucked and wrestled for control. No dice. Terry laughed as he pinned you beneath him, legs spread wide as he scooted in and leaned down close to your face.

“Give up?” He asked.

“Like hell,” you said. You had siblings. You knew how to scrap. Yet, all you did was rub your body against his growing bulge.

You stopped wrestling for control. Your breaths were harsh and loud in the stillness of the tent. Terry’s chest rose and fell but he wasn’t as loud as you. You stopped struggling against his hold, letting him pin your wrists to the ground above your head.

“Hmm,” he hummed, a rumbling sound low in his chest. “Ain’t that better?”

“Terry?” You asked.

“Mhm,” he said, leaning down to rub his stubble across your chin.

“Kiss me,” you said.

Terry leaned up and kissed you. You moaned into his mouth. His lips were just as juicy, just as lush. Soft to the touch. And he was an expert. Kissing, retreating, licking, retreating, biting, retreating. He drove you wild, not giving an inch. Not giving you any wiggle room.

He completely caged you beneath him. Beneath the heaviness of him. He still had your wrists pinned, so you weren’t able to touch him like you wanted. You weren’t the type to be agreeable for agreeable’s sake.

Terry growled at your attempts to shake his hold. Shake his control. He bit your lip, hard, and you cried out, ending on a moan. He licked the sting away, kissing down your jaw and to your neck.

“Fuck do you do to me?” He asked, more to himself as he kissed and explored your skin. He ground his bulge into your pussy and you whimpered, wrapping your legs around his waist.

Just as he showed you in training, you managed to buck your hips and flip him over. You wailed in triumph, not actually believing that would work. Your breaths were harsh, wild, as you finally got to touch him. Your hands roamed over his broad, warm chest. He took great care of his body.

In a lightning quick move, Terry grabbed your arm and flipped you over to your stomach. He grabbed both of your wrists and pinned them behind your back. You cried out from the force, but it was welcome. Inviting a rush of heat to flow through you, straight to your dripping pussy. You moaned as Terry dropped his weight on top of you.

His dick aligned with your ass and you tucked it higher. He grunted and slapped your ass. “Ow!” You yelled, more from surprise. Though the fucker did hurt. With hands as large as his, he managed to cover a wide area of your ass. Leaving behind a burning sting that only made you wiggle your ass against him.

“Fighting only turns me on, princess,” he said. He leaned down to your ear and growled. He sounded damn near like a lion. “Give up?” He nibbled on your ear.

“Fuck no,” you said and giggled.

Terry moved your wrists to one hand, then used his free hand to pull your joggers down over your ass. You whimpered as he caressed your booty, intentionally missing the heated core of you.

You moaned, trying to wiggle your ass where you needed him most. All these months of pining, of wanting, of yearning, were coming to a head. All those times training, working beside him, tangling with him were catching up to you, Making you feel like you were going to burn to a crisp.

“Use them big girl words and tell me what you want,” he said.

You arched your back. Begging, crying whimpers escaping you as his big fingers skirted the outer edge of your pussy. The smell of your arousal permeated the tent. There was no way to deny how turned on you were. If you could just, wiggle, and move a little to the left–

Terry slapped your ass. “What did I say?” He asked.

You groaned. “Fuck me!” Your horniness won this round.

Terry chuckled evilly, plunging his fingers into your dripping wet hole. You both moaned at the contact. He went knuckles deep with no resistance. He wiggled two fingers inside of you, making you moan loudly like a slut.

“Was that so hard?” He asked, whispering in your ear as he continued to finger fuck you. He fingered you with all the precision he was known for. Immediately making you grind on his fingers.

“You can do better than that. Get that shit you want so bad,” he said. He mocked you, he teased you. Every cry or whimper that came out of your mouth, he responded with an evil chuckle or a moan of his own in your ear.

It was always followed randomly by a growl in his chest. The intimacy of the dark and the wet sucking of your pussy drove you closer to that climax. Barreled into it. Crashed into it. You screamed, loud, calling his name as that climax slammed into you like a truck.

“There it is. Shit feel good, don’t it?” He asked.

You nodded your head, forgetting for a moment that it was dark and he couldn’t see you. He released your wrists and then grabbed a handful of your braids, yanking your head back. “Don’t it?” He asked.

“Yesss,” you moaned, biting your lip and rubbing your ass against him. “Oh, fuck me, baby. Now.”

Terry chuckled, smacking your ass. “As much as I want to, I don’t have a condom,” he said.

“I’m clean. On the pill,” you said. Thank god for that. There was no way you’d be able to sleep tonight without the feel of him inside of you.

“Are you sure?” He asked.

You nodded, feeling your braids pull as it was still trapped in his tight grip. Terry chuckled. There was the sound of sucking. He moaned. “Taste good. Can’t wait to get back home and spread you on my bed. Hmm, maybe my dining table. Eat you like the good fuckin’ meal you are,” he said.

He moved behind you, lowering his pants. He groaned, rubbing his dick against your folds. Oh shit. He was working with a third leg. “Oh shit, Terry,” you moaned. Your belly ached. Hollowed out. You were so empty.

“You’ve been driving me crazy wearing those leggings. And that skirt you wore last week?” Terry talked as he rubbed his dick between your legs. You shook. Terrified of taking all that but knew you had to try. Had to relax and let the master work.

“What took you so fuckin’ long?” You asked.

Terry chuckled and smacked your ass, pulling your braids back. You moaned, back arching even more. “That little attitude of yours,” he said.

“Fuck y–”

Terry pushed into your wet heat, cutting off all words. You reached back, trying to grab onto him. He smacked your hand away and pushed in further, gaining more and more inches inside of you.

Your legs shook. You whimpered as he retreated and then slammed back inside. He sunk further in, stretching you, molding you around his dick. “Oh god, oh fuck, oh god,” you moaned. The delicious burn was too much. Not enough.

Terry moaned, grabbing your hip and pulling you further onto his dick. You didn’t think he could fit inside any more. Surely, he bottomed out by now?

“Not so tough with some dick in you,” Terry mocked.

To prevent you from saying something smart, Terry moved with earnest. His stroke game was as intense as the man himself. His strokes were brutal. Punishing. He groaned with every slide inside of you, making your thighs tingle with pleasure.

“Slam that shit back,” he said.

You placed your hands on the ground and threw it back on him, rising up to meet each of his thrusts. Each of his long strokes. Accepting his dick. Accepting everything he gave you.

“Terry! Oh, you fuck me so well,” you said. You sniffled, screaming with every thrust.

Terry chuckled. “I know. Spread your legs wider,” he said.

He stopped stroking so that you could spread your legs more. You moved your feet to the outer edges of his legs. He pushed down on your back, releasing your braids so that you could fall forward. He raised your hips, moving you, manhandling you.

Fuck, it felt so right. So good. So natural to be on your knees, ass up in the air, while he went to work. Terry grabbed your hips and moved you one last time. Then, he slammed inside in one rough thrust. You leaned forward, but he snatched you right back.

“Naw, naw. Where you going?” He moaned.

You moaned back, throwing it back but quickly losing the fight. This wasn’t some little man you let fuck you. This was a grown ass man. Secure in his businesses.

“Fuck, you feel good. So wet. I can barely stay inside of you,” he said. He cursed as he slammed into you like he truly wanted.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck. Terry! Terry! Sh-shh–oh that’s my spot,” you said. He brushed up against a deep spot inside of you. You thought it was a myth. You thought that shit didn’t exist. Terry found it without even trying.

“That’s your spot?” He asked. His deep voice made everything sound more filthy. More lewd.

“That’s my spot!” You squealed.

“That’s my spot now,” he said. No more words were spoken as he hit that spot over and over.

Incoherent noises and sounds dribbled from your mouth. Perhaps some spit too. Your essence dripped out of you, flooding his dick as he didn’t let up. Didn’t stop. Kept hitting your spot like he was at target practice and he was showing out for the crowd.

“Oh I’m gonna-I’m-gonna–”

“Cum on this dick. Let me feel it. Let it go,” he cooed to you.

There was a storm gathering inside of you. It almost felt like you had to pee. “Wait-”

Terry moaned. Your cries turned to pleas. It both felt good and sort of hurt. “Uhngf-” You exploded, wailed to the high heavens as you came and squirted. “OH SHIT!”

Terry was saying something but you couldn’t hear over the sound of your yelling. Your pussy gripped onto him, locked him in, as you came and came. Terry smacked your ass and then thrust one last time before erupting with his own climax. He stuffed you completely.

Hot, thick pulses of cum throbbed inside of you. Your thighs shook. Your body twitched. Your eyes watered. You dissolved into a steaming pile of person as your eyes crossed with intense, whitehot pleasure.

Terry grunted and dropped forward, pushing you onto your sleeping bag. He kissed your damp pajama shirt. Both of you were huffing, out of breath. Thank god for your inhaler. Your lungs would be nonexistent right now.

Terry softened by degrees, enough for him to pull out. You moaned as his cum leaked out. Like his dick was a plug keeping it all inside.

“That’s never happened before,” you mumbled. Suddenly feeling shy and embarrassed. You ought to know what that felt like. Yet, it completely caught you off guard.

Terry maneuvered in the dark until he was able to pull you off of your sleeping bag and onto his where it was dry. He rubbed your arms and shoulders. Then, he grabbed your chin and pulled you into a searing kiss.

“I’m honored I drew it out of you,” he said. “Wait till I do it again.”

“Again! Not with that monster!” You yelled and tapped his chest. Terry’s rumbling laugh was everything you needed to hear.

He pulled you closer, growling playfully and nipping at your skin. You giggled, trying to wiggle out of his grasp. “Again and again and again,” he said, kissing and nibbling at you with every word while you shrieked into the night with laughter.

The end.

Who am I kidding? Of course there will be more! The Secret Terry Richmond Files

Taglist: @planetblaque @chaos-4baby @amethyst09 @ciaqui @we-outsiiiide

@browngirldominion @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @harmshake @00aijia00

@judymfmoody @multiversefanfics @tvchi @xo-goldengirl @superhoeva

@avoidthings @lovedlover

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connorsui · 8 days

Text

Rafayel x wife! Reader || Imagine

"Sunset Love and Baby Kisses"

"I carried you for nine whole months... nine whole months," you teased, holding your baby gently across your chest. Your tone was playfully dramatic as you admired them, their small, round face looking up at you with wide, curious eyes. “And you dare come out looking exactly like your daddy?”

Your baby girl responded with a laugh, her little hands reaching up in a wobbly attempt to grab your face. You couldn’t help but laugh too, your heart filling with a warmth so deep it nearly overwhelmed you.

“Not even a single ounce of me anywhere... no, you just had to come out with blue eyes and all,” you said, shaking your head in mock disappointment as she continued her giggly attempts to capture a strand of your hair. You let out a soft sigh, watching her with an expression somewhere between amusement and awe.

“Gods, you’re even bratty? Did you get anything from me at all? At least show me you got something out of me, will you?”

Your baby answered with an enthusiastic smile, her little hands gripping onto your shirt before leaning forward. Suddenly, she pressed her mouth against your cheek, showering you with slobbery "kisses." You burst into laughter, unable to contain the joy bubbling inside you.

“Okay, okay, maybe you got my love instead,” you said between giggles, wiping the drool from your cheek.

As the laughter faded, you took a moment to breathe in the world around you. The beach stretched out in all directions, the sand soft and warm beneath your feet. The sunset had turned the sky into a brilliant display of color—golden hues melting into pinks, purples, and deep oranges. The waves rolled in lazily, their gentle rhythm lapping against the shore, a soft hum against the peaceful evening. A light breeze carried the scent of saltwater, filling the air with freshness as it brushed against your skin.

You held your baby a little closer, feeling her heartbeat thrum softly against your chest. The sun, low on the horizon, cast a soft glow over everything, painting the scene with an almost dreamlike quality. It was a perfect evening, one of those rare moments where everything felt right—just you, your babygirl, and the endless beauty of the world around you.

Suddenly, a familiar voice broke through the tranquil sound of the waves.

“Well, speak of the man himself.”

You turned and saw Rafayel walking towards you, the sunset casting a golden light over his features. His messy hair caught the breeze, and his grin—the same grin you’d seen a million times—was filled with that playful, cocky confidence you loved and sometimes pretended to be annoyed by. His eyes, however, softened the moment they landed on you and the baby, a tenderness lingering there that he reserved just for you.

Rafayel knelt down beside you, brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face before placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. His thumb lingered on your cheek as he looked down at the baby with a smirk.

"What’s this I’m hearing about you being jealous of me?” he teased, his voice low and warm.

You raised an eyebrow, flashing him a mock glare as you adjusted your hold on the baby. “Please. I was just explaining how our child came out looking exactly like you. Nine months of carrying them, and what do I get? Nothing but your child like brattiness and your blue eyes in return."

Rafayel chuckled, a sound that blended into the soft crash of the waves. He leaned down to kiss the top of your baby’s head before glancing up at you with that same mischievous glint in his eyes.

“And? Is that really so bad?” he said, his tone playful but filled with affection.

You rolled your eyes but smiled as the baby reached for his hand, their tiny fingers gripping his with the same tenacity they had moments ago when grabbing your hair. Rafayel’s gaze softened even further as he admired them, the pride and love in his eyes unmistakable.

“I guess you’re right about that,” you said, your smile widening as you watched the two of them together. “But just know, if she grows up with your attitude, you can deal with it.”

Rafayel laughed, the sound rich and lighthearted as he leaned closer, his arm sliding around your shoulders. The three of you sat together as the sun continued its descent, bathing everything in the soft, fading light of the evening.

And in that perfect moment, with the breeze, the sunset, and the gentle rhythm of the waves, you realized there was nowhere else you’d rather be. Your little family, wrapped in warmth and love, was all you needed.

#suiwrites🍒#love and deepspace x reader #lads x reader #l&ds x reader #love and deepspace x you #lads x you #l&ds x you #love and deepspace rafayel #lads rafayel #l&ds rafayel #rafayel x reader #rafayel x you #lads rafayel x reader #l&ds rafayel x reader #love and deepspace #lads #l&ds

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hotpinkstars · 4 months

Note

I am not sure but have we seen how Boothill and his s/o actually got engaged?

How did the guy propose. Oh I can see him ugly crying out of happiness when the s/o said yes >:)

PROPOSAL - boothill x reader

- boothill proposes to you.

- @xonavia knows how much i LOVE this man ....... OMG. i dream about this when i go to bed i have the PERFECT scenario in mind!!!!!!!!!!!! thanks for this ily anon enjoy!

- this can either be pre cyborg or current boothill, pure fluff, little bit of angst if you squint (only in the beginning) wc 524

Honestly, Boothills proposal was probably a ton of planning and milestones on his part.

He went through like all five phases of grief, but with super different emotions. First was insecurity, (what if he’s not good enough to be your husband?) then fear, (what if you say no??) then more insecurity, then excitement, then fear again. He thinks about it so much that a few days before he’s going to, he’s almost afraid to even look your way.

He takes you somewhere really nice the day of. It was a bit away from your home, and he left you confused the whole way there, but nonetheless, the spot he took you to was absolutely gorgeous.

“We’re here!” he said, holding his arm out to show you what scenery to take in. You were already mesmerized by where you were, and getting to spend it with your (soon to be) fiance. You shared a meal and sat and talked, sitting on the cliffside, watching the waves of the ocean bounce over the rocks beneath and the way the sun set over the horizon.

It was then where he went a little bit more silent, slightly shaking. You questioned him, but he brushed you off a couple times and went back to talking about something else, or pointing out something in the sky or the sea below.

He gets up at one point, telling you to close your eyes. You can hear him moving around, the sound of pockets rustling and him breathing filled your ears as the scent of saltwater filled your nose. You heard a joint crack before he tapped you on the shoulder and told you to stand up.

You did, and turned around. He was on one knee, his eyes already watering, mirroring yours. You cover your mouth with your hands before your eyes welled up with happy tears, nodding for him to go along with his speech.

“Y/n, ever since we first met, I knew ya’ were the one f’me,” he said, taking a deep breath in. “I was ecstatic when y’ told me y’ wanted to be with me. I felt like a piece o’me was completed. And I want that piece to be completed forever. So, would you gimme’ the honor of bein’ the luckiest man in the whole wide world, n’ marry me?”

You shook your head while crying, tears continuously flowing out of your eyes. You were overwhelmed with happiness, and you made sure you let him know that as you tackled him to the ground in a hug, still crying in his shoulder. At this point, he was crying too, relieved that you said yes and happy that you’ll spend the rest of your lives together.

You both stayed like that for a while, giving each other occasional kisses as you both sat up. He grabbed the ring once more, taking it out of the box and carefully sliding it on your ring finger, where it fit perfectly. You held your hand out, admiring the jewel, crying once more before giving the man a passionate kiss on the lips, wrapping your arms around his neck.

#honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #boothill #boothill x reader #fluff #boothill fluff #honkai star rail fluff #x reader #x reader fluff

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ghoulphile · 5 months

Text

in the middle of the night | c.h./the ghoul

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 852 ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; mildly dubious consent, man-handling, drabble, masturbation (m), free use (ig??), handjob, somnophilia ➥ summary | "Cooper watching you sleep. Its a quiet night. nothing but bugs passing by. Cooper keeps watching, and his mind wanders. cut to him "borrowing" your soft and smooth hand, pulling it from under your makeshift blanket and wrapping it on his dick, jacking himself with your hand bc he's bored/trying to pass the time/stay awake" ➥ notes | forgive me this was written in a sleep deprived haze im gonna go die in bed now masterlist | feel free to send in thots, questions, requests! | feedback is always appreciated ❤️

"Hh-mm?"

A sleep soft murmur escapes, your mind a hazy flood of sensation as your senses struggle to adjust. Night stretches out before you, the sky a deep velvet - the fine stardust glitter of faraway celestial bodies peeking through wispy clouds. It’s midsummer in the desert; a balmy breeze shifting through the sands and tugging at the coyote hide wrapped tight around you.

Beside you, the low crackle and glow of a banked campfire warms your face, its shadows playing with your blurry eyes. Something feels… off. What, you’re not entirely sure as nothing seems to be out of place.

The threadbare padding of your sleeping mat shields you from the sand - albeit only slightly - and there’s a sharp twinge in your side from a piece of rubble lodging itself against your ribs. One of your feet’s gone numb and prickly from the awkward position you’ve curled up in.

Dogmeat’s snoozing a little ways away with her face tucked into her tail.

Same as usual.

And the Ghoul��s…

What.

Strong leather wrapped fingers shackle around your limp wrist, grip firm and unyielding. A buzzing electricity dances along your palm, bottled lightning, as you’re made to grip something long and hard.

The heavy weight of flesh; rugged edges and whorls of texture biting into the softness of your skin. Slick friction as it glides through the loose circle of your fingers.

Is that his -- ohmygod, what the fuck.

Shock sizzles, melts like dripping candle wax into a bloom of warmth that punches the air from your lungs. Oozes down to curl between your thighs in a sticky rush as static warmth ripples from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes.

The Ghoul grunts out a low curse, a quiet hiss of breath escaping through his teeth.

Your thighs clench, the plush fat compressing as you shift.

Oh, that’s… Mm.

Pre-cum trickles down your knuckles as his cock throbs once, twice, his hips bucking forward to sheath himself to the hilt in your tender grip.

“Ah, fuck,” he mutters from somewhere above your head, his shoulders bowing in. “Always feels s’good.”

Always --

Your head snaps back, wide eyes darting up.

Immediately, you meet his gaze.

Dark, foreboding; the hooded eyes of a predator staring back at you from beneath a heavy brow like a hand to the nape of the neck. Corralling, claiming. His lips crack open and he smirks - a gash of teeth that threaten to snap.

“Well, hello there, darlin’ - was wonderin’ when you’d wake up.”

“W-What the hell!”

He snorts, the flash of his tongue taunting as he flicks it out across his lower lip

“As if you don’t know. C’mon, now. I know you’re smarter than that.”

To punctuate his words, he inches forward in a grind, dragging your palm along the length of his cock nice and slow. A low groan punches itself out of his chest.

“Tch. Me doth think the lady protests too much. Acting like I can’t smell how wet you are.”

“I-I’m not…”

“Bullshit. You can’t lie ta me, darlin’. I know just how wet that pretty pussy of yours is getting. If you ask real nice like, I might be inclined ta show you what you’re missing.”

Your clit throbs, humiliation burning bright as you duck your head. Avert your eyes to the stray thread of your shirt fluttering in the breeze. It rankles how correct he is, how well he can read you with that vulture sharp gaze.

You wish you could prove him wrong if only for the principle of the matter.

As it is, there’s nothing you can do - especially when your fingers tighten up around his cock to hear him grunt and your cunt throbs in time with your heartbeat.

Slick wets the seat of your panties and clings to your inner thighs as everything in you cries out for some friction, some stimulation.

To get this man inside of you as quick as possible, stretch you wide and fuck you full.

He chuckles. “That’s more like it,” he says. “Now, are you gonna help me out or not? If so, grip a lil harder otherwise I ain’t gonna feel shit.”

So with a gulp, you do as he says: pop up onto your knees and tighten your fist.

Elongate the strokes so they work up the ragged shaft at a sedate pace, feel every pit and curve. Like you’ve got all the time in the world as you roll your wrist and use your thumb to gather the pre-cum from his weeping slit, smearing it around the thick crown of his cockhead.

All the while his head tips back, the long line of his throat catching your attention as he swallows.

“Phew, that’s just what the doctor ordered.” His eyes glitter cruelly when he looks down at you. “Should’a started doing this when you was awake a long time ago.”

How long he’s been using you like this, you don’t know.

And you’re not sure you care if the needy clench of your pussy is any indication.

“S’all right. Now you can make up for all that I’ve been missin’.”

#cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x you #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard smut #the ghoul smut

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lisired · 6 months

Text

die in your arms

pairing: jaehyun x (f) reader

genre/warnings: smut, angst, horror/thriller, explicit descriptions of violence and murder, unprotected sex, mentions of suicide, character death

summary: Every single night before bed, you play your royal husband, Jaehyun, a song on his grandfather's piano as a distraction from the ominous sounds you hear. To the public, you're all smiles, but discreetly, you're a slave to your suspicions. Though it seems the more you pry, the more secrets you start to unravel.

word count: 22.4k

a/n: spooky fic for the spooky season… or at least it was when i first posted it lol. as always, feedback is appreciated!

Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop, you chanted to yourself, running because your life depended on it.

Your feet hurt and you had lost track of how long you had been running for, but you pushed yourself forward even as your energy from the adrenaline started to dwindle.

Never had you needed to fight for your life before. Fight for anything. Your legs burned from ache, begging for a break while your bare feet slapped against wet dirt. Your face was damp with tears and rainwater. But you never stopped. Not even for a second.

Not as long as he was behind you. Even after hours of running, you knew he wouldn’t stop until he had at last caught you. He could run across acres of land and never break a sweat.

Lightning struck and you screamed, only to realize it was the shrouds of darkness looming over you. You were on edge.

“My love,” Jaehyun sang, calling out to you from a distance.

His voice made you shudder, but you bunched your dress into your fists, the white gown difficult to run in. You didn’t look back, though you knew that he wasn’t far.

Pushing Jaehyun’s voice to the back of your head, you tried to find an escape route. The garden had to stretch across at least a thousand acres. There was no end in sight. You were inclined to believe you were running in circles across perfectly manicured grass and stone trails.

Jaehyun had the upper hand. It was his palace, for heaven’s sake. He had grown up wandering around these paths and exploring halls that were carbon copies of each other. You had barely made it out of the palace, clearing corridor after corridor, though unsure if you were making any distance because of how they paralleled.

You found another stone footpath, feeling the ground harden beneath your feet where moonlight shone through the tiniest of puddles. For whatever reason, seeing your scared face in your reflection gave you chills. Your face that was once perfectly made was ruined with streaks of mascara, black.

What should have been the happiest day of your life had quickly turned upside-down.

When you glanced aside, what you saw nearly got another hair-raising scream out of you, but you bit your lip hard enough to make yourself bleed.

Horror was beginning not to explain your feelings as you fought for survival, wide eyes drifting around the pond in a perfect rectangle. There were tombstones surrounding the pond, watered by rain. You could see names etched on them; your parents, Jaehyun’s parents, and some of his servants. Dead fish floated in the water.

“No,” you cried out, kneeling aside your parents’ gravestones. You didn’t care that your dress dirtied. You lost all purpose for it the second you saw him for the monster he had been all along.

From the beginning this had only been a perfectly crafted game where you never had a chance. You were baited like an animal and Jaehyun was somewhere watching you like a hawk in the sky, because little did you know, you would never make it out.

He had made sure of that.

“This is your home now,” Jaehyun exclaimed, but it was all white noise to you. You didn’t even know where he was or how far he stood from you. Your mind was racing but empty all the while.

You knew there had to be a shed somewhere. If you were quick, maybe you could hit him over the head with a trowel or a really heavy pot. If you wanted to make it out alive, you had to escape on your own. You knew there was nobody else alive out here aside from you and Jaehyun.

Not to mention thinking about what Jaehyun would do to you if he caught you made your blood run cold, because you simply didn’t know. He was an enigma to you now. You went from living every little girl’s dreams of becoming a princess to living a never-ending nightmare.

“Darling. There you are,” Jaehyun said, as if he hadn’t already had you trapped.

You screamed, screamed a silent cry, unable to hear his wet footsteps over the sound of your mind racing a thousand thoughts per hour. It was over. You lost. He had caught you.

Jaehyun swept you into his arms and crooned, “Shh, it’s alright. Everything is okay, darling.”

Every exhale was a battle. You heaved, chest undulating, and tried to regain some semblance of composure. Your eyes studied the room and you realized you were no longer in Jaehyun’s boundless garden, but in his chamber. There was no rain pouring on you. Only sweat beading at your skin, cooling at your neck.

“It was just a nightmare,” Jaehyun whispered, voice sweet and tender as it had always been.

You still shuddered, but you were relieved that it was only a dream. You leaned into Jaehyun’s touch, breathing in the crisp air.

You flitted your gaze to the balcony attached to the giant chamber, blocked off by a glass door. The royal blue curtains were drawn, giving you a perfect view of the garden it overlooked. Rain fell brutally and little droplets gathered at the screen.

Nights like this were a recurring series of events ever since you started sharing a bed with Jaehyun. You would wake in the middle of the night, damp with sweat, screaming your lungs off. Jaehyun would hold you and whisper sweet nothings in your ears, trying to calm you down.

If you were being honest, it wasn’t Jaehyun that was giving you nightmares, in spite of the fact that the one key element they all shared was that he would be hunting you down in all of them. It was the dangerous lack of sleep you were getting. Interestingly, the monarchy had owls that kept you up at night, and when you finally fell asleep, bad dreams loomed over you.

For whatever reason, sleep deprivation made you prone to them. You tried to remind yourself Jaehyun was a great guy and your stupid brain playing tricks on you was not a reflection of his character, but the fact that you consistently had more or less the same dream solely about him made you antsy.

Grow up. Dreams don’t mean anything. You sound like a little girl afraid of the monsters under her bed, you hissed to yourself, chastising. The fact that it was so silly was enough to make you promptly dismiss your worries.

For the three months you had been engaged, Jaehyun took the extra time to get to know you. It was strange, because he didn’t need to. Your marriage was a business proposal rather than the kneeling before your lover kind, and both of your parents had influence throughout the country. You had never spoken until then.

In spite of that detail, Jaehyun treated you as if he could see himself truly loving you one day. Maybe because he wanted things to be as non-awkward as possible, given that you would be sharing the same bed at night.

By day, Jaehyun would flaunt you in front of the media and hold you flush against him at royal events as he did throughout your betrothal. The wedding had to have been the most remarkable occasion of them all. It lasted throughout the entire day, hundreds of thousands of people present to celebrate your nuptials.

When you married, you moved into the palace, which was precisely when the nightmares started. Because of those goddamn owls.

Some nights later, you shot up again, having yet another nightmare. Noticing the bedside lamp was switched on, you glanced to your side, observing Jaehyun with a book in hand and spectacles sitting squarely on the bridge of his nose. “Another bad dream?”

You nodded, biting your lip. You felt bad and slightly embarrassed. Never had you and Jaehyun shared a bed until your honeymoon, so his first impression of your sleeping habits were you being prone to crying out in the middle of the night.

Jaehyun, setting his book to the side after marking his place, opened his arms for you. You crawled into them without hesitation. Over time, they had started to feel like home. It took the edge off your homesickness.

This is your home now. You shivered. It’s just a dream. It’s just a dream. It’s just a very bad fucking dream, you comforted yourself.

Jaehyun whispered tenderly, “Tell me what you saw.”

You swallowed and damped your throat. Though you had told him about the owls, you kept to yourself the bit about him chasing you like a serial killer. “It’s a little dark,” you told him in fair warning.

Jaehyun didn’t seem to give a damn. “It’s only a dream. It can’t scare me. Unless a monster is going to hop out of your cute brain and yell, ‘Boo!’”

You giggled. Leave it to Jaehyun to make you laugh when you needed it most. He had come to learn your needs over those three months of bonding.

Jaehyun threw you an expectant look. “Well?”

You hesitated, but ultimately gave in. Jaehyun was your husband now, for fuck’s sake. What couldn’t you tell him? “Well, every night I have the same nightmare about… you. You’re always chasing me throughout the castle. Every time, I get close to escaping, but you catch me in the end. And then I wake up.”

“It’s not very realistic.”

You pulled back, giving him a look. “Hm?”

“I would never chase you,” Jaehyun said. “I will always have you right where I want you.”

Your eyes flickered. It was an unsettling comment, but you tried to let it go. Jaehyun doesn’t have an evil bone in his body, you reminded yourself. He’s harmless.

Jaehyun clambered out of bed, sitting his spectacles on top of his book, and stood on two feet. When you merely watched him with interest, he beckoned you to mirror him. “Come on. I have something to show you.”

Hesitantly you obeyed him, crawling from bed and sliding on your slippers. Following him into the halls, you walked hand in hand with Jaehyun the entire time who had laced his fingers through yours comfortably. The gesture made you smile, no matter how little.

Like in your dreams, the corridors were of length and resembled each other almost precisely. High stone walls stood tall, statues at its sides, and chandeliers glared at you from above your heads. Given it was after nightfall, the halls were dimly lit.

One of the statues you swore you saw move and give you a mean glower. You asked curiously, “Did you ever break anything when you were a child?”

“Not that I remember. No.”

“Huh,” you retorted. “You must have been a wonderful child.”

“I stayed in my room and looked out the window,” Jaehyun muttered under his breath.

Your eyes flickered.

Jaehyun brought you to a room at the very end of the passage but before he drew the doors open, he told you softly, “Close your eyes.”

You rolled your eyes, but did as told, giggling. Jaehyun got a hold of both of your hands and placed them over your face for safe measure. Then, he drew the doors open, pushing you inside.

Jaehyun guided you mysteriously throughout the room and you let him without question. You knew he had switched the lights on, the corners of your vision getting brighter in spite of the dark void, and he stopped you momentarily.

“Now, open.”

You slowly opened your eyes, squinting while you adjusted to the bright lights. Then they focused in front of you, and what you saw made you giddy with excitement.

“Whoa,” you gasped, running a hand over the grand piano. It was royal blue, monarchical patterns thoughtfully designed over the lid.

Jaehyun was sporting the biggest smile you had ever seen. “Do you like it?”

You bobbed your head. During your engagement, you remembered telling Jaehyun, en passant, that you had been enamored with playing pianos since you were little. “You remembered,” you said quietly, touched.

Jaehyun’s dimples showed and it was the cutest thing ever. He spoke softly, “This was my grandfather’s piano. He hated bad weather and played it when it stormed. I know that it’s not the same, but I thought that maybe if you played the piano before bed, it would help with your nightmares.”

“That’s really thoughtful of you, Jaehyun,” you replied, heat spreading through your chest like wildfire. “Do you want me to play you a song?”

“Yes,” Jaehyun said and pulled out a chair.

You sat on the piano bench, getting comfortable and warming up your fingers lest they cramped in the middle of your impromptu performance. For a multigenerational piano, it was still in perfect condition.

“My mother taught me this,” you told him in preparation.

You proceeded to play him a mind-blowing masterpiece, your eyes and hands trained to the keyboard. Jaehyun was dumbfounded that any human being could be so graceful while playing an instrument and kept himself fixed to your supple fingers. He was enamored, knowing then and there that he wanted to hear you play your sweet song forever.

Eyes closed, everything disappeared behind the sound of the keys, and you carried yourself to a world where there was nothing but you and your piano. Where no harm could reach you.

Me and my song. That's how you got through everything. As long as you had a piano, everything would be okay.

When you were done, you glanced up at Jaehyun, studying him for a reaction.

Jaehyun was all smiles. He was endlessly proud of you, clasping his hands together in applause when the performance ended. His heart was asking for an encore, and he knew you most likely wanted one yourself. He could see that you were truly at peace when you played, in a world of your own, at your happiest.

“You’re the most talented player I've ever heard,” Jaehyun whispered sweetly.

Heat filled your cheeks and you hid it with a roll of your eyes. “You’re only saying that because I’m your wife.”

Jaehyun took your hands in his palms again, kissing the back of your palm tenderly. “You are my talented wife, who I love very much.”

Your heart stopped. His wife. Who he loved. He loved you? You expected to be merely something he had to put up with, but Jaehyun had come to genuinely love you. To say nothing of yourself. This boy had swept you off of your feet in no time at all.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, smiling so hard your cheeks hurt. Now that he had done such a thoughtful gesture, you loved him even more.

Jaehyun saw the stars in your eyes and squeezed your hand. “Are you ready to go back to bed?”

“Yes,” you chirped with glee.

Jaehyun hoisted you into his arms bridal style and you squealed in surprise, wreathing your arms around his neck while he carried you back to the bedchamber.

You slept soundly after that. No screaming. No nightmares.

As it turned out, his grandfather’s piano was the perfect countermeasure for your night terrors. You were dumbfounded that you actually managed to sleep through the whole night, well rested for the formal dinners and publicity appearances that came with being royalty.

For each of them, you clung flush to Jaehyun’s side, radiant. You didn’t speak unless spoken to. It was no question why you of all the women from a handpicked list were selected to become his wife. You had been cautiously groomed for the role, the pretty and obedient little thing meant to stand by the prince's side and carry his children. Especially his son.

Maybe it seemed demeaning, though you had no intention of making waves in the monarchy. You kept in step, rather than marched to the beat of your own drum. You were more than content to silently bathe in their luxuries and confide in your husband.

But it did get lonely.

One lazy afternoon, just after lunch, the king approached you and Jaehyun as the two of you were shooting the breeze in The Great Chamber. You noticed his father first and greeted him respectfully, “Good afternoon, Your Majesty.”

Jaehyun opted for a polite bow.

The king motioned his head. “Good afternoon. I am only here to announce your mother-in-law and I’s departure. We will be traveling abroad on business for a couple of weeks. Your mother-in-law is already with an escort waiting outside the exit hall.”

That baffled Jaehyun. “Why the abrupt exit?”

“We have some affairs to attend to that couldn’t wait and we owe the prime minister a favor. We will return as briefly as possible.”

Jaehyun nodded. “Travel safely.”

“Of course. And son, the country is yours in our absence,” said the king. Then, he locked eyes with you. “Yours as well.”

You were stunned for a couple of seconds, but masked it well and replied demurely, “Yes, sir.”

The king bid each of you farewell individually then scurried to the exit hall with his wife to be chauffeured to their private charter.

Jaehyun met your eyes with a mischievous smile and said when his parents were out of earshot, “Appears it’s just the two of us.”

“Mm-hm,” you hummed, amused by the amount of sheer mischief in his stare. “Just me, you, and the hundred other people that live in this palace.”

Jaehyun chuckled, lifted your wrist, and pressed a sweet kiss to the back of your hand. “What if I sent everybody home? You heard my father. I’m in charge.”

“I also very clearly heard him mention that I’m in charge too. And I don’t think that’s a very good idea. Who’s going to make the spoiled prince’s every meal three times a day, everyday?”

“Fair point,” Jaehyun mumbled. “Do you really think that I’m spoiled?”

You replied without skipping a beat, “Rotten.”

“What a shame,” Jaehyun said. “Would it also be a shame if you came upstairs to spoil me some more?”

“Only if you didn’t spoil me back,” you replied tamely, but Jaehyun could see the unbridled lust in your eyes. It never lied to him.

You two scurried through the halls like a pair of hormonal teenagers, staggering towards the elevator with dwindling patience and giggling the entire ride upstairs.

When you came to bed that night after spending an undocumented amount of time playing Jaehyun the piano in what was once his grandfather’s bedchamber, he threw his big arms around your waist and drifted off to the view of your backside.

But when you abruptly woke, he was nowhere to be found.

You sat up in a panic. He’s just using the bathroom. Yeah, that sounds about right, you consoled yourself. The clock stared back at you on the wall, and noting the time, you decided you would wait for him to return.

Jaehyun never returned to his bedroom. You watched hours tick away at their own pace, but there was no sign of him. And in lieu of your husband’s soft snores, you only heard those familiar owls, feet dragging down the hall, and impatient ticking.

Which was completely unnerving.

You didn’t get any sleep that night. Not until Jaehyun at last came back and worriedly asked why you looked as if you had just finished a twelve-hour shift in the dungeon.

Choosing to ignore him, you snarled, “Where were you?”

Jaehyun’s eyes flickered. “Well, I was in the study. I had some late night affairs to attend to.”

“The king and queen are absent. Our royal activities have been suspended. There is nothing you could possibly need to take care of at four in the morning,” you pressed, arms folded.

“Most of our royal activities have been temporarily suspended,” Jaehyun corrected with a swiftness. “Why do you think my father left us in control? The country never sleeps.”

You sulked, especially grumpy from the lack of sleep.

Jaehyun watched you with surprise. Your grouchy, irritable attitude graveled him, because he couldn’t comprehend what he had done that was so wrong. “What’s gotten into you?”

You exhaled loudly. Maybe you were overreacting a little. Jaehyun did make a valid point, after all. Somebody still needed to nurse the country in the king and queen’s absence. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m being unreasonable,” you replied, unable to justify your cynicism.

Not to mention you couldn’t think of a single other thing that Jaehyun could have been doing so early in the morning. It was a completely plausible excuse, whether you believed it or not. And it wasn’t as if Jaehyun had ever given you a reason to doubt him.

But the feet dragging through the halls was the second most eerie sound you had ever heard, just after those evil owls that reminded you too much of gargoyles. You chalked it up to some staff members keeping guard on a late shift and gave it up.

Jaehyun pried your stubborn hand away from your crossed arms and you let him. His touch was exactly what you needed to soothe your unease. “You look tired,” he commented. “Have you been sleeping?”

“No, I was waiting for you to come back,” you grumbled gruffly and stifled a yawn out of habit. It was unladylike, they said.

Jaehyun chuckled in amusement, but scolded, “You shouldn’t wait up for me. I’m a busy man and a princess needs her beauty sleep.”

“Maybe I feel safe when you’re next to me,” you mumbled under your breath, eyes fixed to his thumb rubbing circles at your wrist.

“I’m never far from you, baby,” Jaehyun reassured you gently. “I’m always two steps behind you.”

“Behind me or ahead of me?”

“I’m omnipresent,” Jaehyun whispered and kissed your cheek sweetly. “You can play the piano. I can sing. Would you like for me to sing you a song?”

“Yes,” you replied without stopping to mull it over.

Jaehyun told you to lie back down and you obeyed without a second thought, slipping under the blankets. You felt even warmer when he snaked his arms back around you and started to croon softly in your ears, voice tickling your neck and ultimately lulling you back to slumber.

Whether or not he got back up after that was entirely unbeknownst to you.

You slept so peacefully in Jaehyun’s embrace that you didn’t even rouse until afternoon, well after Jaehyun had slipped from bed and told you good morning, whispering something in your ear about how he had duties to attend to.

You, on the other hand, were cleared of any scheduling. Which gave you ample time to explore the gardens.

Now sporting a pretty knee-length dress, you had some tea and toast as a makeshift breakfast and scuttled outside in quick, short strides. The grandiose garden was easily your favorite spot in the whole palace. You could get lost in its labyrinth of superbly pruned shrubs and terraces decked in flower petals.

For lack of a better word, it was a humbling experience. It made you feel small to be isolated in such a huge garden. You may have been a princess, next in succession to the queen’s throne, but you were also just some girl in a world larger than you would ever know.

You could prance around and gawk at pretty flowers day in and day out. It didn’t take much to keep you happy. But you rather liked company.

When you noticed one of the gardeners you recognized tending to some blossoms, you chirped, “Hi, Giselle.”

Giselle greeted you very respectfully, curtsying at your presence. “Greetings, Your Royal Highness.”

“Oh, please,” you said, almost rolling your eyes. “You can call me by my name.”

“The king and queen wouldn’t approve of the informalities, ma’am.”

You didn’t really give a damn and waved her off, replying nonchalantly, “While that is true, the king and queen are not here, and it’s only the two of us in this garden. When we are alone, you may call me by my name and I will call you by yours.”

“If you insist,” Giselle replied, followed by your name.

You smiled triumphantly.

From your previous encounters and run-ins, you had already gathered that Giselle unfortunately wasn’t very much of a talker, though you couldn’t fault her. She did what she was told and minded the business that paid her. Literally. It would do her no good to kindle conflict in the monarchy.

“These flowers are pretty,” you remarked absentmindedly.

Giselle hummed. “They’re azaleas.”

“Elegance, temperance, and death,” you said knowledgeably, staring from the terrace.

Which surprised Giselle. “Are you into flower symbolism?”

You shrugged. “I know a thing or two.”

“Hm.”

You pointed to some other flowers. They were very recognizable to you at this point. “Those are white roses. Purity, innocence, loyalty, and fresh beginnings. It’s no secret why they were scattered all over my wedding.”

“Secrecy and silence,” Giselle added offhandedly.

For a couple of seconds, that, metaphorically speaking, threw you off balance. “That too,” you said quietly.

Giselle said nothing.

You considered making peace with the silence, but with your thoughts at daggers drawn with one another, you quickly accepted that wouldn’t be possible. Secrecy and silence. There was no doubt it suited the monarchs aptly. Sometimes you even wondered what you knew about Jaehyun, because he was ghastly private.

Maybe you weren’t the closest of married couples, but you knew enough. Jaehyun liked music and singing. He was introverted and quite shy, which was laughable when considering that he was soon to become king. He was calm and sensitive. Sensual, but reticent.

Jaehyun already made clear he loved you. Maybe with time, he would show you his heart.

Then, you had another thought. Secret, but not so much silent. “Hey, Giselle,” you called out. “Do you ever hear strange noises in the palace?”

“I don’t know what you mean. Everything is normal in the royal palace.”

You frowned. It hit you that you never asked Jaehyun if they bothered him. It was possible that growing up in the castle had numbed him. “I hear owls at night.”

“That is because there are owls and they are nocturnal. We haven’t tried to get rid of them because they are helpful with the garden,” was all Giselle said.

“Well, sure,” you mumbled, because it was an entirely logical explanation. “But what about the noises I hear in the hallway?”

“Some employees take late shifts to keep guard of the palace. They are merely monitoring the halls.”

That was what you told yourself, because it was completely reasonable. But something about this place gave you a bad gut feeling and left a bitter taste in your mouth. You couldn’t explain it, because it was just a hunch.

“In all due respect, what you hear is elementary. Word of advice? Believe what I tell you now or get two hours of sleep at night later.”

You recoiled in surprise. “Excuse me?”

Giselle turned around, glanced around for any watchful eyes, and made eye contact with you. She stepped onto the terrace and whispered, “I hear scratches in the walls and cries in the floorboards. You can rationalize footsteps in the hallway, but whimpers in the chamber? Not so easy. Convince yourself that it’s nothing while you still can.”

“If I have to convince myself that it’s nothing then that means there’s something,” you shot back, looking her plain in the eye. Which also meant there was something she wasn’t telling you. “What are you hiding?”

Giselle wavered, hesitant. She wore it on her face. Her body language was screaming at you and you desperately wanted to know what it was saying. “You’re royalty,” she finally said after a moment. “You have lived lavishly your whole life without ever needing to worry about a thing. Maybe I envy what you have, but I’m not telling you this from a black heart when I say my woes are not yours.”

You didn’t bristle, but softened. She was opening up to you, and you knew there was more to this tangent of hers.

“I come from a poor background and work here to provide for my household,” she said tamely, harboring no resentment whatsoever. She wasn’t the least bit vindictive. “Because of that, I can’t afford to poke my nose where it doesn’t belong. Even if it keeps me up at night.”

“The noises,” you said. “They keep you up at night?”

“Because of that piano,” Giselle grumbled under her breath.

“What?”

Giselle pivoted and walked back to the plants, dismissing your concern. “I’ve already said too much. Please, mention this to nobody. But if you must, leave my name out.”

You nodded. “Off the record.”

Giselle smiled thinly.

Backpedaling, you pointed to another shrubbery of flowers. “What are those?”

“Hydrangeas. They might seem high maintenance, but they are fairly easy to take care of. The queen loves them, so I give them some extra attention,” Giselle told you while hoisting a watering pot.

You hummed. “Blue flowers.”

“Desire, love, and infinity,” Giselle sighed poignantly.

For half an hour, you volunteered to help Giselle with her gardening duties before she shooed you away, claiming you had done enough of her responsibilities. You wandered in the garden still, lingering, just outside of Jaehyun’s bedchamber window.

When you glanced up, you saw him watching you fondly through the balcony screen, and waved him down with a beaming smile.

Jaehyun was downstairs in a flash, sporting chinos and a casual blazer. He looked very handsome, which was nothing new for him. Plus with his pretty brown eyes and adorable dimples that were both impossible to not get lost in, you had to will yourself not to swoon.

“Hi,” you greeted.

“Hi,” Jaehyun replied, mirroring you. Except he leaned in to snake his arms just below your ribs and kissed the corner of your mouth.

You smiled at his affections, though they had disarmed you a long time ago. His ability to unsettle you when he was gone but soothe you when he touched you was to be studied. “How has your day been so far?”

Jaehyun groaned. “Next subject.”

That got a chuckle out of you. Being the ruler of a country was no easy feat, but if there was anybody fitted for the role, it was Jaehyun. “Hopefully your parents haven’t left you with too much trouble.”

Jaehyun shrugged his shoulders. “I want to relax. You look like you’re having fun.”

“Something like that.”

You decided against confiding in him about the reality of your day thus far. Not because you didn’t trust him, but because you weren’t sure of anything yourself. Giselle had mentioned something about the piano he had gifted you. Jaehyun might have been your best bet at knowing what she meant, but you needed to do a little more investigating before you got him involved.

Now that you had another person’s opinion, you could say with total confidence that you weren’t crazy. There was something spooky going on in the monarchy and you wanted to know what.

For now, you would shove the thought to a corner in the back of your mind. Days at the palace were full of whimsical fun. The nights were terrifying.

Speaking of whimsical fun, Jaehyun spoke up and asked, “Do you want to ride the ferry with me?”

That caught your attention. “Ferry?”

“Yeah. There’s a huge lake down this path and we have a mini ferry that travels from one end to the other. You interested?”

“Sign me up,” you exclaimed enthusiastically.

Getting a hold of your hand, Jaehyun walked you through the courtyard to the wooden dock at the top of the lake. Unsurprisingly, it had a decorated roofed patio with a lounging nook to wait for the vessel to return.

Fortunately for you, it was already waiting at the dock, unoccupied save for the captain Jaehyun had called up during your relaxed walk to the boating site.

Jaehyun helped you aboard, having done this more times than he cared to admit. When you were safely secured on the tiny ferry, you thanked him for being a gentleman and watched him climb aboard himself.

The captain exited the wheelhouse. “Once to and from, Your Royal Highness?”

“Make it twice. We have time to waste,” said Jaehyun, looking at you with all the affections a man could possess.

Shortly afterwards, you started moving. You stood beside Jaehyun and gripped the railing, watching the water splash beneath the boat. This place was beautiful, no doubt. Your choice to get married in the garden was unregretted.

Eerily beautiful, you thought. Though you loved the garden, there were a couple of places you avoided. Mainly the ones that made appearances in your nightmares, like the shed.

The silence was comfortable, both you and Jaehyun soaking in the view, but you broke it to say, “You’re an only child.”

“I guess you could say that.”

You gave him a look. “What do you mean?”

Jaehyun shook his head, dismissive. “Nothing. Keep talking.”

You were curious, wanting to know all there was on this boy, but let it go for his sake. “Doesn’t it get lonely - alone in this big palace? Your parents are busy nurturing the country like it’s their own child.”

Jaehyun didn’t show a single fucking emotion on his face, though that was far from shocking by now. When it was time to get personal, he became the iciest man you knew. His cold indifference somehow burned you.

You grimaced when you saw his face. “Sorry if I crossed a line.”

“No, it’s okay,” Jaehyun replied, giving you a reassuring kiss to the cheek. “I was lonely before I met you. No siblings. Few people I could trust. When I was young, I learned rather quickly that life is a game of survival. You can never be too sure who’s friend or foe.”

You listened attentively, nestling closer to his chest.

“I was taught to be my own guard, in a way. And there’s nobody to blame but myself for chasing away everybody who tries to get close. But then you came,” Jaehyun said, smiling at you adoringly. “And there was an instant connection. I think I saw pieces of myself inside of you.”

“You did?”

Jaehyun bobbed his head. “Yeah. Some people see this meek, demure princess, but I see the woman that almost cooked my ass when I wasn’t tucked into bed with her,” he joked, getting a laugh out of you.

You giggled.

Jaehyun was smiling like an idiot. It was cute and wholesome. “On a serious note, I see somebody strong and assertive. Somebody who’s not afraid to fight for what they want, even if it means going through hell and back. Somebody unbroken and undeterred.”

“Mm-hm. And you liked that,” you hummed, giving him a hooded stare.

“You have no idea,” Jaehyun purred before leaning in to smash his lips against yours.

You giggled into his mouth. Your heart skipped a beat or two when Jaehyun kissed you, tempted to leap into the palm of his hands where she belonged. The Jaehyun you had come to know was a romantic and there was nothing more romantic than making out with your lover on a beautiful ferry ride.

Except for making love with your lover below a beautiful ferry ride.

“Below deck,” Jaehyun murmured in your ear, delicately slipping his hands from your waist to lace his fingers through yours. You didn’t hesitate to follow him through the little hall, coming out in a bedroom at its very end.

You hardly even got to stand long enough to take note of your surroundings before Jaehyun hoisted you up and threw you against the silk sheets. You cried out in shock. Jaehyun had taken you more times than you bothered to count, but you were in awe at how rough the prince got when it came to sex.

When Jaehyun crept over you, staring at you with a blend of awe and unbridled lust in those pretty brown eyes of his, you combed your fingers through his dark hair and drew his mouth to yours again.

You could hear your heart thudding in your ears as you kissed him slowly. Your lips only knew each other and you could taste the ecstasy on the tip of your tongue. To say nothing of the touches. While you were fisting his hair, Jaehyun stripped you naked, tossing your dress and groping your perfect breasts.

Jaehyun was warm to the touch, but his fingers never failed to make you shiver. “I love the way your lips feel,” you confessed when he separated from your mouth.

Only to kiss his way down your stomach, lips gentle and tender. Jaehyun cocked you a glance and grinned. “And what about my dick?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions. I love your dick, duh, but that’s a different conversation deserving of its own speech. Particularly a long-winded one with a very heartfelt peroration at the climax.”

Jaehyun’s head bobbed as he snickered at the thought, before teasing, “Well, we have the Great Chamber for that when you’re ready. Feel free.”

Your laughter rang out in the little bedroom. Then, Jaehyun switched on a dime, dragging your legs towards the edge of the bed before spreading them apart like jelly and burying his face between your thighs.

Every time Jaehyun took you to bed, you remembered the first night of your honeymoon. When he took you to a cabin in the woods in April’s spring, flipped you over, and made you cry for all the forest to hear. By day, you watched nature and waltzed to his many vinyls, and by night, you made love for hours.

And to think that was only a month ago. You felt as if you’d loved Jaehyun for years.

Jaehyun ate you out until you came undone at the mercy of his brutal tongue, clamping his palms at your thighs while you convulsed and shuddered, and undulated. Fuck, he knew your body too well. You arched off the bed one final time then slumped down, defeated.

You gawked in disbelief while he watched you scramble for breath with a cocked brow. Your body’s capacity for pleasure knew no bounds when Jaehyun was the one pleasing you. “Ready to take my cock?” he asked, excitement nipping sharply in his chest at the thought of ruining you.

You nodded your head almost instantly. Your lack of patience was written all over you and you wanted him. Right now.

Jaehyun’s hands were quick to reach for his cock, steering himself skillfully to bury himself inside of your pussy. A wet sound filled the air when he sank inside and you instantly moaned his name as though it was an instinct.

You drove Jaehyun mad when you called out his name like that; with pining and desperation, and everything in between. Heaven had brought you to him and fate would keep you by his side until the very end.

“Jay,” came your airy voice. Just being filled with your husband’s cock made you feel like you were elevating, ascending into the air.

Your sounds were euphoric and drove Jaehyun to the very brink of madness, and with the last of his restraint gone, he was impelled to move at long last, thrusting into you at a leisurely yet hard pace. He lowered his face to meet yours, lips locked in a wet smack. You were skin to skin, your stiff nipples pressed against his bare chest.

Every moment was as special as the first. As a woman groomed to become a figure of importance, you were raised to remain chaste until marriage. And the day you exchanged vows with Jaehyun, he made your whole body shudder.

“God is a woman,” Jaehyun rasped, heart racing so quickly it might have burst. You were warm all over and his hands roamed every nook of your body, every curve.

Even though you wanted to laugh, all that came from your mouth was a breathless moan. Moments like these where you knew nothing but Jaehyun, scooped into his strong arms, you couldn’t help but realize how lucky you were. Not a second went by where you took him for granted.

Things could’ve been different. Jaehyun could have been an insufferable spoiled prick that acted entitled to his wife, but he was far from the visions of him you saw in your nightmares. You were grateful to be married to a man that both respected you and valued your happiness.

You locked your legs around him, pulling him into you deeper, and kissed him until the two of you were gasping for air. “You get me so wet, Jay,” you whispered, tangling your fingers through his head.

At those words, Jaehyun released an animalistic growl, so aroused you thought he might break. His thoughts revolved solely around you. How much like poison you were. How outrageously perfect you were. Head to toe.

You beamed with pride, pleased to have such a dangerous effect on your husband. The two of you meeting each other was mutually assured destruction. Nothing had been the same since Jaehyun laid eyes on you. When he saw you for the first time, he knew that he had to have you.

While your body rocked from the sheer force of Jaehyun’s thrusts, the boat gently thrashed in the water. Your breasts bounced and the sight had made Jaehyun lose what was left of his mind. One day, in the none too distant future, they would be swollen with milk and Jaehyun imagined you carrying his children.

That thought alone could have finished him. He thought of it every time he fucked you full of cum, pumping his load inside of you rough and deep, just the way you begged for him to. Watching your belly swell with your shared child would do unspeakable things to Jaehyun’s psyche.

Part of you drowned out the sounds of the water splattering against the boat in favor of listening to Jaehyun’s relentless groans. Your husband always had a flair for the romantic. Hopelessly, he used to think, until he met you.

Staring up at Jaehyun, you were bewitched by the gentle gracefulness of his features, especially as they tensed with unbridled pleasure. “Can I tell you something?” you asked.

Jaehyun nodded his head. “Anything,” he whispered.

“You smell so good.”

Jaehyun’s laughter rang out in your ears. The sight and sound brought a smile to your face. You didn’t know anyone with a more perfect laugh and you would give anything to see it again. “That’s so random.”

“But true,” you added, inhaling his scent the closer he got to your naked chest. There was hardly any space between you two at all.

Jaehyun was all smiling from ear to ear. “Can I tell you something?”

“Always.”

Jaehyun leaned into your ear, deepening his voice to a breathtaking whisper, “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

Your heart stopped. There was something about his voice tickling your earlobe that made you gush and tighten around his cock. After searching for the ability to speak, you replied, “Funny. I feel the same way about you.”

Jaehyun chuckled deeply and you swore you became lightheaded. “Yeah?”

“Can I tell you one more thing?”

“Go for it.”

“I’m about to cum,” you told him, climax threatening to rip you apart.

“I’m gonna make you cum,” Jaehyun said, voice dark with determination. You gasped when his fingers sank to your clit and his thumb teased your bundle of nerves.

Heat swallowed you whole. You couldn’t process all of the sensations that your body was experiencing all at once. A scream came out of your mouth and Jaehyun stifled them with his palm as you trembled with orgasm, cursing the stars.

Jaehyun didn’t stop fucking until he was certain that you couldn’t take anymore. You went round after round, fisting the sticky sheets, grateful that he chose to take two trips across the lake. You had time to kill.

Your body was worn and utterly spent when Jaehyun was finished with you. You fell slack against the sheets, unable to move your stiff limbs. Given that Jaehyun was left with more than a handful of responsibilities, it should’ve come to you as no shock that he took his stress out on you.

And you were more than eager to let him. When Jaehyun made love to you, the power he wielded over you was endless. Your body was seized by him and your heart was his on a platter.

“I love you,” Jaehyun whispered deeply in your ear. It was enough to drive any woman mad. You were too breathless to say anything back, chest undulating.

For a couple of moments neither of you could hardly move and you stayed nestled into each other’s side till you regained the strength to hunt for your tossed clothes. Flush against Jaehyun’s skin, the sexual tension still lingered, and he was overwhelmingly aware of how naked you were.

After quickly redressing yourselves, you just sat on the bed for a little longer, feeling the boat still sway and knowing you weren’t back home. Jaehyun’s hand was flat against your backside, never letting you forget that he was at your side.

You tried to fend off some wandering thoughts, but your curiosity got the better of you and you surrendered to your need to know. “Jaehyun, I have something to tell you.”

Your tone was not lost on him. “It sounds serious.”

“Yeah, kind of,” you replied, swallowing the taste in your throat that made you nauseous. “It’s about my dreams. It’s not just the owl noises. I think there’s something else going on.”

Jaehyun’s brows were furrowed. “Like what?”

There was a lump in your throat. After you confided in him about your doubts and suspicions, there was no going back. “Like the piano,” you said, unsure of yourself.

Jaehyun’s demeanor shifted suddenly, aggressively. He went from cool and collected to stern on a dime, chastising, “Stop looking.”

His tone affronted you. “Excuse me?”

“It’s for your own safety. You need not to worry your pretty little head.”

Narrowing your eyes, you pressed, “So there is something going on that you’re not telling me.”

Jaehyun exhaled a heavy breath, smoothing a hand through his hair. “Promise me you’ll stop prying. This is serious. I will tell you everything that you need to know when it’s time.”

“Jaehyun, you know I can’t promise that,” you whispered.

“Please,” Jaehyun said, eyes glistening.

God, he was begging you? It had to have been serious. You couldn’t fathom him pleading for you not to investigate otherwise. But rather than discourage you, it only intensified your will to get to the bottom of the matter.

Massaging your temple, you sighed, “Okay. Pinky promise.”

You giggled when Jaehyun interlocked his pinky finger with yours, but you weren’t certain how long you would be capable of keeping that promise.

Soon after your confession, the captain signaled that the boat had returned to the dock. Jaehyun led you back through the narrow hallway with your hand in his, as if nothing had happened.

The sex. The little divulgence that followed. He’s way too naturally gifted at slipping back into this royal character, you realized. In a way, you already knew that. Jaehyun could fuck the daylights out of you then smile and wave at the media as if he was their innocent successor to the throne.

Though this was different. Jaehyun obviously had no intention of letting you know exactly what he was hiding any time soon. And if he thought you would just sit around and wait for answers, he had severely underestimated you just like every other man in this country.

Something unforgivably dark and sinister was happening. That was undeniable. You just needed to find out what.

Hours came and went, as did people. Jaehyun was right, you supposed. The country never slept. The palace alone was bustling with life at all times.

Which made you think. If both you and Giselle were apprehensive of the obvious skeletons the monarchy had in its closet, there was no way you were alone. Somebody else had to know something. Somebody with just as much to lose.

You just had to play your cards right. Giselle didn’t lie when she said that she had a lot more at stake than you. Even if the royal family abandoned you for whatever reason, you had the safety net of your own wealthy family to fall back on. Not everybody was as fortunate.

When the sun set below the horizon, Jaehyun accompanied you to his grandfather’s bedchamber, though only because you didn’t want him to grow suspicious. The piano was the only way to bulldoze your ceaseless thoughts. You were lost in your own head.

“I love you, Jaehyun,” you told him out of nowhere.

Jaehyun looked pleasantly surprised. It wasn’t often you confessed your affections. “Where’s this coming from?”

Your mind wandered back to earlier. Though you weren’t happy about him brushing off your concerns, your heart couldn’t deny the way it thumped for him. “I never said it back. And you didn’t make me.”

“Because I already know.”

You blew out a breath. Your heart told you not to risk losing his trust, but your mind was screaming that he was keeping something from you. Days ago, you would’ve been more than content with submissively obeying your husband’s commands.

But peace had never been an option.

It wasn’t long before you crept into bed with each other. You slept peacefully and uninterrupted by any nightmares. Again.

Breakfast was spent together as always. Now that his parents had left the two of you in charge, it was often the only time you had available in the mornings to share.

Any other morning, you would complain, but you were waiting with bated breath for the opportunity to get away and sneak around like a thief in the night. You weren’t keen on lying to Jaehyun, but he would just have to understand the rationale. You couldn’t keep living antsily.

You spread some butter on your toast and asked, “Would you like to visit the markets with me this afternoon?”

Jaehyun frowned. Had he not been so busy, he would’ve done whatever you wanted. You wondered why your schedule was so clear, because when Jaehyun was preoccupied, half the time so were you. “I would love to, but the committee needs my opinion on some political stuff.”

Your tone was disappointed, “Political stuff?”

Jaehyun nodded. He seemed to have fallen for it somehow. “I won’t bore you with the details.”

“Well, I won’t keep you, then,” you said, taking a sip of steaming hot coffee. Jaehyun had made it for you just the way he knew that you liked it.

“Are you trying to get rid of me? I’m not expected to be present for another fifteen minutes.” Jaehyun’s tone was light, but the accusation made your heart beat faster.

Donning your most innocent voice, you assured him, “Of course not. I just know how much you like to be punctual.”

“That is true,” Jaehyun muttered.

Ironically, the hours seemed to drag on, because you couldn’t wait for Jaehyun to leave for once. The second he was finally far out of your vicinity you discarded your leftovers and prepared yourself for the grueling task ahead of you.

Only when you emerged from the dining hall and set out on your little exploit did it occur to you that you didn’t have even the slightest clue who to ask. A couple of servants had been around quite longer than others, yet they were dreadfully tight-lipped. But for good reason.

Bumping into a younger one, you exclaimed, “Oh, good heavens! Pardon me, Mr. Kim.”

Jungwoo bowed gracefully and replied, “No, I apologize, Your Highness. I’ll pay closer attention.”

“It’s fine. I’ve been out of it since I got out of bed with Jaehyun,” you confessed, flashing a courteous smile.

To your surprise, Jungwoo threw you a baffled glance. “You share a bed with the prince?”

“Yes, he is my husband. Is that odd?”

“I’m surprised. It goes against tradition. The king and queen have always had separate bedrooms,” Jungwoo told you, scratching the back of his neck.

That was news. Though given how secretive these people were, everything was news to you. “I didn’t know that.”

Jungwoo rifled through his pockets for a spare key, pressing it into a lock on a nearby door as he rambled, “I wouldn’t either, but my dad worked here. And my granddad. With their debts, they passed down useless knowledge.”

Your interest was quickly piqued. Maybe you didn’t need to take your chances with an older worker after all. Jungwoo, way more affable and approachable, bore the knowledge of generations. “No knowledge is useless.”

“Yeah, maybe, but it’s not exactly power,” Jungwoo said, grabbing some items out of a utility closet.

“What do you mean?”

You watched Jungwoo shut the door and promptly lock it behind himself. “There are some things it’s better you don’t know, ma’am.”

“I’m sick of other people telling me what’s best for me,” you grumbled irritably. “I already know about the piano. Well, kind of.”

Jungwoo’s entire attitude flipped on a dime. Glancing across the hallway twice as if he was preparing to cross a road, he dropped his items on a cart and spoke softly, “Follow me.”

Obviously, you were confused, but you didn’t dare disobey. This might’ve been your only chance at getting closer to the truth.

Jungwoo led you to a door hidden behind the stairway with a big sign warding off intruders, though it was locked, as to be expected. This family apparently couldn’t afford to take any chances. With what, you had no clue.

Strangely enough, Jungwoo had a key and wheeled his cart inside of the room after it clicked open. You curiously trailed behind him once he locked it behind you, wanting to know all there was to learn about this place.

There was a chain to your right and Jungwoo tugged on it, watching the lights barely flicker on. It was dim and empty, and though it was a test of your willpower, you fought off your nerves and remained unbroken.

Narrowing into a hallway, the entrance seemed to go on for a hundred miles and a half. Your footsteps bounced off every wall and the sound made you nervous. Of course, Jungwoo would never in his life knowingly lead you astray and you chose to have faith in the belief that he’d never bring you straight to danger.

But it made you wonder. If you recalled correctly, Giselle mentioned something about scratching in the walls. Your understanding of architecture was limited, but this place had to be built in between other parts of the castle.

Weird, you whispered to yourself, rubbing your arms. It seemed that the deeper you went down this hallway, the colder the air got.

“Watch your step. It’s creaky,” Jungwoo warned, leaving his cart in the hall. You glanced around him to see what he was talking about and that was when you noticed another set of stairs.

You shook your head and cursed, “Pardon my language, but Jesus Christ - how deep does this shit go?”

Jungwoo chuckled. “Too deep, ma’am.”

You had no strength to tell him to drop the titles. This was a few conversations far from your first encounter with Jungwoo and he respectfully declined each of your suggestions for him to call you by your name.

The floorboards did indeed creak as you stepped down them and the sound couldn’t have been any more unnerving. You appreciated Jungwoo dutifully walking in front of you as if he was defending you with his life. Not that there was anything down here to jump out and get you.

You hoped.

Whatever disaster of a room that you just walked inside of was far from what you expected this staircase to lead to, though you weren’t too sure. At the end of the seemingly never-ending hallway was nothing but a pile of junk. If you were being frank, it looked like a bunch of hungry wild animals had a field day. Things had been tossed. Almost as if a fight of some kind had unraveled here.

It was a hot mess. The place looked a solid minute away from crumbling in on itself, and that was you being generous. Your arm hairs were standing at attention now. You took one good look at the barrels just shy of you, noted the temperature, and pieced together why.

“It’s… a cellar,” you said, noticeably disappointed.

“It was a cellar,” Jungwoo told you, glancing around and wrinkling his nose. “This room hasn’t been used for at least a decade.”

Voice dripping with sarcasm, you deadpanned, “You don’t say.”

“Oh, I say.”

Your lips parted and the room echoed with your laughter. You were very grateful that Jungwoo made you laugh, because it helped you forget how anxious everything about your surroundings made you. “Why?”

Jungwoo outwardly processed every emotion and confusion was the most expressive of the plenty. “Pardon?”

“Why did you bring me here?”

Jungwoo stepped forward, inspecting the walls as if he was checking for damages. And there were many. “Because I have something to tell you that I can tell nobody,” Jungwoo said, his usually chipper tone borderline stern. “But first I need you to tell me what you know.”

Those weren’t exactly inviting words, but it was Jungwoo. You could trust him. Or maybe you wanted to, at least, but you couldn’t even trust Jaehyun. You confessed, “Assuming you mean the piano, it’s nothing much. But I know it’s connected. To the sounds I hear at night, I mean.”

“Oh, the walking. And the whispers,” Jungwoo said like it was the most normal thing in the world.

You shook your head in disappointment. You weren’t fucking crazy and Jaehyun’s family wasn’t going to trick you into thinking that you were. “I knew I wasn’t the only one.”

Jungwoo’s tone was only slightly accusatory, “Jaehyun doesn’t know that you’re investigating.”

You frowned. He was a little too good at this. “You didn’t phrase that like a question.”

“There’s no way that he would let you get this close.”

“It’s been justified,” you huffed, irritated. All this secrecy and suspense was killing you. You just wanted to get to the heart of… whatever.

Skeptical, Jungwoo’s head was tilted. His loyalty was in you, but also the heir. “Has it?”

You donned your most assertive voice and reasoned, “Jaehyun is obviously keeping something from me. Things that keep me up at night for hours. I refuse to continue my life in such a manner. It’s an eye for an eye.”

Jungwoo listened to your rant and agreed that your actions were justified. Thus he would be keeping this between the two of you. With a nod, Jungwoo replied, “Okay, I understand.”

You nodded. “Good.”

“But I also understand the prince.”

Your eyes darted to Jungwoo.

Before you could part your lips to speak, Jungwoo added, “Because once you know the truth, it spreads and festers like a wildfire. If you let it, it can consume you. That’s why I hate that you know this.”

“I don’t know anything,” you grumbled.

“Jaehyun’s grandfather used to own that piano in his bedchamber,” Jungwoo started, passing down what only moments ago he thought was useless info.

“Yes, I know. Jaehyun told me.”

“Yeah, well, his grandfather was extremely territorial with the piano,” Jungwoo said hesitantly. “If there was a problem, he cleaned it himself. Mended it himself.”

You were yet to understand what that had to do with anything. “Sounds like he just didn’t want anybody touching his stuff.”

“That’s what my dad thought, but apparently anybody who touched it either died mysteriously or disappeared without a trace soon after.”

Your expression shifted from confused to painfully perplexed. “That’s foolish.”

“I told you that my father worked here. He thought it was rubbish. Then, one day after leaving to clean that very bedchamber, he never came back home,” Jungwoo said, willing himself to keep it together. After so many years, grief was a nonfactor. Despair was channeled into anger.

“Jungwoo…,” you trailed, choosing your words carefully. You knew what it was like to lose somebody. “Are you sure?”

Jungwoo’s eyes were sharper than you had ever seen them. You never knew such an easy-going guy was harboring so much pain. “I’ve been told that because I’m grieving a loss, I’ll believe anything for closure. I don’t agree. There’s something fishy going on and unlike the others, I’m not afraid to admit it to myself.”

“This is a lot,” you told him.

Jungwoo nodded, wholly aware. “True, but it doesn’t stop there. Did you know that Jaehyun had an older brother?”

Your shoulders stiffened, because you recalled mentioning that Jaehyun was an only child yesterday, and he became deflective. “No, I didn’t.”

“Yeah, four years older. Apparently, he died after falling out of a window.”

You grimaced. “He commited suicide?”

“So the story goes,” Jungwoo answered, but his tone said loud and clear that he didn’t buy it for one goddamn minute. “And get this - he fell from the window of his grandfather’s bedchamber.”

Scratching the back of your head, you asked skeptically, “How come the public didn’t know about the first-born son?”

Jungwoo snorted. “I had a feeling that you would ask. The royal family waits five years before announcing the birth of their children. Isn’t that convenient?”

“Almost too convenient,” you mumbled under your breath. If Jaehyun’s older brother died just shy of five years old, that would’ve simplified the process of covering up his death.

Jungwoo glanced over at you, aching. And maybe a little desperate. “Do you believe me?”

A tiny sigh escaped your mouth and you planted your palm on your forehead, overwhelmed by the load of information that was just dumped on you and unsure what to do with its weight. “If what you’re saying is true, this is dangerous,” you replied levelly.

Jungwoo huffed, “You’re telling me.”

“But Jaehyun and I have touched the piano on several occasions. I play it every night just so that I don’t have to hear those godawful noises,” you added, hesitating. “Shouldn’t I be dying?”

Jungwoo fell silent for a sudden, mulling something over. Then, he said quietly, “There is another possibility...”

“What?”

“Perpetuity,” was Jungwoo’s response, voice quieting even though only you were there to hear him. “This one I’m not so sure of. The rumor is that if you touch the piano, you meet one of two fates. Death at your hand, or being condemned to your worst nightmare. It sounds like bullshit.”

His confidence seemed to waver, but you were interested. You were driven by a determination to discover all there was to know about this godforsaken place. “How exactly is one condemned to their own nightmare?”

“Your deepest fear will become your ultimate fate,” Jungwoo explained, wrapping his arms around his torso. “Your worst nightmare will come to life. And you’ll live it everyday until you die.”

You devolved into nipping cold shudders. And it had little to nothing to do with the basically subzero temperature of the room that you occupied. Of course, Jungwoo didn’t mean literal nightmares, but it didn’t help that not too long ago you were being haunted by bad dreams.

Your worst fear was living the same day for the rest of your life. Adventure was your natural instinct and curiosity was your vice. It’s what you stood for and a part of yourself that you refused to negotiate. You could’ve had every dollar that the world had to offer, but you would never gamble away your freedom.

Thankfully, this life gave you more than enough. So what you were expected to be beautiful and ladylike when people had their eyes fixed to you. Did it matter? That didn’t change that when there was nobody there to judge you, you were liberated.

Because it had always been that way, ever since you were a kid. You knew that to some people your existence served one purpose. And you didn’t care. You got to be yourself in the solace of this gigantic palace.

At least for now. Freedom came with a sacrifice; your own sanity and peace of mind. And truth be told, you weren’t sure if it was a fair trade.

“I’ve been having these dreams,” you started, swallowing.

“What kind of dreams?”

“Bad ones,” you confessed, wanting to curl into yourself. Those dreams put the fear of god into you. “When the noises weren’t keeping me awake, these nightmares would take their turn. Jaehyun hunted me down in all of them. And I would wake up after he catches me.”

Jungwoo noticed that your voice was a little shaky and offered you a compassionate hand squeeze, saying, “It’s okay. They’re not real. Jaehyun wouldn’t hurt you.”

“I know, but…,” you trailed. “I had them repeatedly. Same dream, different night. The only other difference was that they would happen in another place. But they stopped after Jaehyun started taking me to play the piano before bed.”

Jungwoo stiffened. “That’s… convenient.” Like a lot of things here.

“I know,” you agreed, shaking your head. Just the thought of Jaehyun was making you tremble with anger. You knew he was secretive, but it felt like he was borderline lying to you.

Then again, Jaehyun didn’t deny that there was something that he was keeping from you. Instead of telling you cheap excuses of consolations, he admitted that there was something grave enough he couldn’t even confide in you about it. And you didn’t know if that was worse.

Things were beginning to appear increasingly more eerie. “Do you want to know why I took you down here?” Jungwoo asked quietly.

Bobbing your head, you shifted to give Jungwoo your undivided attention. Something about the vibes of this room put you off. You didn’t like it. You could sense that something heinous had occurred maybe in the very spot that you stood.

“The prince’s grandfather spent a lot of time down here.”

“Really?”

Jungwoo nodded. “Apparently, he flipped out one day and trashed the whole place. It happened a few days before he passed, so the story goes. Then, they relocated the cellar and closed this room off.”

That explains the mess, you thought to yourself. But not much else. “Why would they do that?”

“Like hell I know,” Jungwoo replied with a shrug of his shoulders. “My bet is that they’re hiding something. Which we already knew, but I get lost every time I try to figure out what it is exactly.”

“You aren’t the only one,” you droned, releasing a pained breath.

Jungwoo mustered a smile, but it was thin. “Well, if it’s quite alright, I would like to return to my duties, Your Highness.”

“Yes, of course. Thank you for everything. You’ve been a great help,” you said, bowing respectfully in gratitude.

Jungwoo mirrored your movement. “It’s been a pleasure,” he told you sweetly. “I can’t skip out on my daily responsibilities, but if you ever need me, say the word and I’ll come.”

After thanking Jungwoo again and him assuring you that you weren’t in any way indebted to him, you trailed him up the creaky stairs and headed your own separate ways.

The brightness of the hallway compared to the lifeless cellar made you squint your eyes and wobble towards the edge of the stairs as you took a moment to readjust. Your brain also needed a second to process the newfound information. Now you had more answers, but twice as many questions.

Maybe Jungwoo was right. Maybe knowledge wasn’t power; it was a burden. But you were already in too deep to quit looking.

Jaehyun was too preoccupied to accompany you to his grandfather’s former bedchamber tonight and thus you opted out of the visit altogether. Of course, you knew what would inevitably happen if you didn’t press those keys, but you had an aggressive curiosity to sate.

The piano and your dreams were related. You knew that now. But if one of the piano’s unpredictable fates was to prolong its victims' agony, how come it abated yours instead?

For half a second, you wondered if Jungwoo was really telling the truth. You wanted to believe him, you really did, but something came to you and whispered not to trust anyone.

Not even Jaehyun. Hell, especially not Jaehyun.

Pulling the blankets over his thighs, Jaehyun glanced over to you as he crawled into bed and asked, “Did you have a good day without me?”

“It was long without you,” you replied, plopping a glass of water at your bedside in case you got thirsty.

“I’m sure. What did you do?”

“A little bit of everything. I had the most wonderful dinner. I only wish you could’ve stuck around for dessert. The chef said he misses cooking in front of you.” It was only partly a lie. Your weakened appetite wouldn’t allow you to eat in spite of the full-course meals prepped for you.

Jaehyun was smiling at some passing memories of him tagging along with you to aggravate the chef with curious banter. Though you mainly did all of the talking. “That’s good,” he said, chuckling quietly in amusement. “Tell him that I’m sorry I wasn’t there to hush you.”

Rolling your eyes, you grumbled, “Whatever.”

Jaehyun's infectious laughter filled your ears again. “Goodnight,” he whispered, leaning in to press a kiss to your brow.

“Goodnight,” you said back, releasing a shaky breath. For all of a second, you forgot that you were mad at him. His arms felt safe. Like home.

This is your home now. A cool shudder wrecked through you. How Jaehyun could feel so dangerous but so inviting all at once was beyond you.

You sank to your bloodied knees, unable to withstand the cramp shooting its way up your calves. Your tireless sprinting left you with just enough strength to crawl behind a door, thanking god that it was unlocked and quietly pushing it closed.

The space was completely silent, save for your labored breaths that you endeavored to suppress. Jaehyun couldn’t have been too far. It was a blessing that you even managed to escape him.

For now. Something told you that he wouldn’t give up so easily.

Pure darkness suffocated you with its chokehold. You glanced up and searched desperately for a light source. Your surroundings were virtually invisible. Propping your hands on the door, you pushed yourself off of the floor and groped the wall for a light, finding a chain and tugging it impatiently.

It took a couple of tries for the lights to flicker on. The space around you was hardly any less dim, but at the very least, you could make out where you were.

“Darling, come back,” called out Jaehyun’s featherlight voice just outside of the door. “Let’s just talk. All I want is to talk.”

He was closing in. You never realized your heart could thump at this quick of a rhythm. You never imagined the day where you would be terrified for your life. Your eyes winced in pain as you moved along the cracked wall, but you couldn’t stop.

Shivers tensed your entire body as you descended down the hallway. Bare feet hit the cold naked floor, because you opted out of running in heels minutes earlier.

Jaehyun’s footsteps came louder, closer. You swore quietly to yourself, realizing that the lights might’ve shone under the door and given you away. But the harder you tried to move, groping the wall for purchase, the more tempted you were to cry out in excruciating pain.

And then the worst happened. The door opened, a fraction of outdoor light stretching down the hallway to where you stood.

Your heart screamed in panic and alarm. Fear was merciless. None of this was fair. Jaehyun could give chase for hours, and he would if it came down to it, but you were running on empty.

“Baby, I know you’re in there,” Jaehyun called out gently, yet menacingly altogether.

It took everything in you not to mutter, “Fuck,” under your breath as you tried to get further and further away from him, hoping and wishing that he wouldn’t follow you if you were quiet enough.

Taking in one deep inhale, you tried to stabilize your breathing, but after running halfway across the palace, your work was cut out for you. You walked inch by inch, careful with your motions in case your injured legs misstepped and you came to the ground with a resounding thud, and moved as soundlessly as you could.

To your shock, you came across a stairway. In spite of how strangely familiar it seemed, you didn’t know where it would take you, but there was absolutely no way in hell that you were turning back.

It was only down from here.

Except there was a problem. The stairs had no railing and you didn’t trust yourself to feel your way through without tumbling down to your doom. You dropped to the floor again, putting your back to wherever the stairs led, and began to descend.

Jaehyun’s footsteps let you know he was still there, easing his way down the dark hallway. You didn’t understand why he walked so leisurely, taking his time to capture you. Almost like he knew you wouldn’t get far either way.

Your feet passed one stair at a time, cautious. You didn’t want to make any noise, but that ship sailed when one of the stairs creaked loudly. They reacted unfavorably to too much pressure, whining in response.

Panic made your blood thump in your ear and you hoped that Jaehyun didn’t hear, but you gave up on that when he said, “Darling, I can hear you.”

With all hope gone, you scurried down the stairs, ceasing to care about how safely you got there as long as you still made it alive in the end. You didn’t focus on breathing. Only on getting the fuck out of here.

You kept glancing up the stairs just to make sure Jaehyun wasn’t too near until your foot touched a different cool surface and you knew you were at the bottom. When you turned around though, your terror only intensified.

There was no place for you to go. Nowhere for you to run. There were no other paths for you to take because the room was a dead end.

“Give up, baby,” Jaehyun said, finally at the top of the stairs. He was coming down, slowly but surely, and he was going to take you. “I’ve got you. There’s nowhere else for you to run.”

With every step he took down the stairs, you took twice as many backwards, wobbling towards a wall. Like there was some kind of secret passage that would save your life.

There was no use anymore. Jaehyun set his feet on the floor and grabbed you just as you tried to turn away from him, pulling you into his open arms. You never stood a chance. He was stronger than you. Faster than you.

“It’s all okay,” Jaehyun whispered as you sobbed, your back burning wherever his fingers attempted to soothe you. “We’re together now.”

Your body veered to life, jerking awake. Your eyes instinctively snapped to your legs, searching them for injuries, but at worst they looked slightly stiff.

The rest of you trembled. You knew this was going to come, but it felt worse than you remembered. With a quick glance to your left, you noticed that Jaehyun wasn’t there.

You didn’t know if it was really something that you should’ve thought twice about or if the circumstances were just naturally making you suspicious. Either way, you wanted to know where he was. After a long day of handling his responsibilities, he should’ve been unable to leave bed, and yet, his side of the bed wasn’t even a little warm.

Too cold for him to be in the bathroom. Too cold for him to take a quick trip to the kitchen for a midnight snack.

You impulsively decided to investigate and rose to your feet, putting your toes in your slippers and stealthing down the corridor. You didn’t know where to look, but it helped that you saw a light coming from just down the hall, and you followed it discreetly.

All it would take was one wrong move for Jaehyun to overhear your footsteps. There didn't seem to be anyone patrolling down this corridor, which was typical, because Jaehyun’s family usually had their guards stand outside the entrance doors.

That only meant that you had to be quieter. The door to Jaehyun’s office was wide open, inviting anyone to see what he was up to, but you didn’t want to make yourself known yet. You wanted to see who he was when you weren’t there.

Ignoring the formidable stares of the statues, you crept closer to Jaehyun’s private office, breathing solely through your nose. The same hallways you loved to cruise seemed so much scarier when the lights were off.

Finally, you approached the light, hearing chatter the closer you grew to the door. You attached yourself to the wall, peaking your head inside ever so slightly. But when you saw what was happening inside, you stifled a gasp.

Jaehyun was at his document-laden desk, looking far from exhausted, and he was sitting face-to-face with Jungwoo.

“Accordingly, I will have to take charge of the country a little longer and my parents duties will fall into my palms,” Jaehyun said, folding his arms across the desk.

Given that you were at an awkward angle, you couldn’t see Jungwoo's face, but you could hear the confusion in his voice, “I understand, Your Highness, though respectfully, I don’t see why you asked me here.”

“I’m requesting a favor.”

“May I know what it is?”

You shuffled to get a better glimpse into Jaehyun’s office, but scraped the floor with your heel in the process. You swore under your breath, hoping they didn’t hear you, and sensed your heartbeat quicken.

Jaehyun stiffened in his chair. “Did you hear that noise?”

“Well, this palace is infamous for them, but I’m afraid that I can’t say that I’m a victim of sound,” Jungwoo replied, cocking his head to trail his gaze where Jaehyun’s had fallen.

Your face tensed with confusion. Jungwoo didn’t hear the noises?

“That’s not what I meant,” Jaehyun said, standing from his seat to investigate.

At the sound of footsteps, you quickly tiptoed towards a nearby door, pushing it open and squeezing yourself between hardware supplies. It was a tight fit, but you only focused on avoiding Jaehyun.

He glanced around both sides of the hallway, as if he was preparing to cross a bustling road. There was nothing. You were hiding in a closet merely a few feet away.

You exhaled a quiet breath of relief when you heard him retreating, but frowned when you heard the door close behind him. You were clueless. What did Jaehyun have to hide? And with Jungwoo of all people, you wondered.

Stumbling out of the closet and into the darkness, you crossed your arms. Jungwoo was one of the few people you found reliable here, but there was something he knew right now that you didn’t. You turned the corner to withdraw back to Jaehyun’s bedchamber, immediately jotting down a mental note to press him about it later.

When you came back to bed, you found yourself still nervous without Jaehyun beside you. And you rebuked yourself for it instantly after.

You didn’t realize it in your sleep, but the place where your dream occurred was the cellar Jungwoo had taken you to. Only darker. And with a soon-to-be king chasing you to the end.

You shook your head with a groan, deciding that you would catch some sleep. For whatever reason, you had a strange feeling that you’d be needing it soon.

To your shock, it was daylight when you rose again. Somehow, you actually slept through the entire night. The only sounds that jolted you awake were those of impatient knocks coming from the bedchamber door.

You exhaled grumpily and groaned, “Can I help you?”

“Good morning, Your Highness. Per your husband’s wishes, I’ve come to wake you for your schedule today,” came Jungwoo’s voice.

Your eyes snapped open. Glancing to your side, you noticed that Jaehyun wasn’t there, and wondered if he ever returned. “I wasn’t aware that I had anything scheduled for today.”

“It was arranged overnight.”

“May I ask what was arranged?”

Jungwoo answered, “There will be a dinner party this evening in the east wing in honor of His Highness’ grandfather. The staff will be coming to style you shortly.”

Huh, I didn’t know that his grandfather’s birthday was today. Then again, Jaehyun was very private. “Okay, thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.”

Before he could run off to take care of his other tasks, you called out, “Jungwoo?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

You considered asking Jungwoo about his encounter with Jaehyun the night before, but decided at the last minute that you didn’t need him to know that you had been there. “Nevermind. Thanks a ton.”

For a whole day, you were kept preoccupied in Jaehyun’s bedchamber with a number of women fixed to you. The hours were so busy that you barely had time to think about your ongoing crisis. And half of you wondered if it was deliberate.

At least for a minute, you did. With the corset throttling the life out of you, it was difficult to focus on anything else. You were grateful when they lessened the pressure on your organs. The dress was a sparkling royal blue, like you suspected the bulk of the guests attire would be. According to Jaehyun, it was his grandfather’s favorite color.

It took hours for the women to finish with your makeup and hair. When the final touches were added, it was rapidly nearing dusk. The sun would be retiring below the horizon and the moon would settle over you now, quietly watching.

Just after seven o’clock, an nth staff member came to escort you to the ballroom on the east wing. You were disappointed that Jaehyun hadn’t come, but sucked it up. Like you, he had most likely been preparing for the party. He must’ve had other roles to fulfill. After all, it was in honor of his late grandfather.

His parents were out of the country, too. You remembered overhearing him mention to Jungwoo that their visit had been extended for whatever reason.

In a nutshell, he was a busy man.

Most eyes fell on you when you entered the ballroom’s double doors. You greeted anyone nearby courteously and extended them a polite thanks for coming, as a princess should welcome her guests.

But your attention was quickly drawn to your husband. You were still mad at him, or at least part of you wanted to be, but he looked mighty fine in that royal blue suit and his dark hair slicked back to hell. Goddamnit.

“Jaehyun,” you said when you finally caught up to him, almost out of breath. He refused to stay in one place for longer than a minute, one-by-one mingling politely with the crowd.

“There you are,” Jaehyun said, appearing more than glad to see you. Then, he grabbed your wrist, pressing his thumb to your pulse with an arched brow. “Your heart’s beating fast. Did you run a marathon before you got here or something?”

“Or something,” you murmured, shaking your head. Your husband was light on his feet.

Jaehyun said to a server passing by, “Please get my wife something cool to drink.”

“Yes, immediately, Your Highness,” the servant replied, making a break for the kitchen.

In the meantime, you scanned your husband. Other than his sexy suit that had your mouth watering to hell and back, Jaehyun was sporting a beaming smile, grinning from ear to ear. He looked happier than usual, in a way.

“You’re giving me that look.”

You flinched. His voice broke your thoughts, but your eyes kept wandering; wondering. “What look?”

Jaehyun retorted teasingly, “The one that makes me feel like you’re going to eat me.”

You snickered. “It’s your grandfather’s birthday. He’d be turning in his grave.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind as long as we had fun. My grandfather was big on milking a celebration for all that it was worth. He partied until his last breath,” Jaehyun joked.

That was delightful news to you. “I didn’t know royals knew how to really party.”

“Please. You should see my mother after three shots of vodka when there’s no camera rolling. She’s full of crazy.”

Your heart simpered. There was a lot you didn’t know and hadn’t seen about this family. Remembering the thought itching at the back of your mind, you wanted to mention how he wasn’t in bed last night, but didn’t know if it was a good time. Instead, you opted for a quiet, “You didn’t tell me your grandfather’s birthday was close.”

You expected Jaehyun to respond with something deflective, but it caught you off-guard when he replied honestly, “There’s a lot of things I don’t tell you.”

Your eyes shone with shock, but you played it off. “Like what?”

Jaehyun kept his eyes fixed to your face without a word, as if he was studying you before making his move. “Darling, If I told you all there was to know about me, we’d be here for days,” he finally said. “Maybe weeks.”

“I want to know you,” you whispered, something poignant in your voice.

“You do know me.”

The gleam in your eye shifted from sad to vicious, to coy. “Do I?”

Jaehyun nodded his head, gently smoothing a hand down the small of your back. “Yes, you do. I may not always lay my heart on the line, but deep, deep down inside, you know me. The real me, baby.”

Your eyes were staring into Jaehyun’s, like they were trying to forcibly peel back his layers and bare his soul to you, but it was all in vain. All you could liken it to was looking at someone with drunk double vision, your eyes deflecting two different images of him and your mind unsure of which one to trust.

Sometimes I feel like you tell me just enough to keep me satisfied. And then you feed me more crumbs when I start to get cranky, like giving a bottle to a baby.

“That drink you wanted, sir,” came a manly voice from beside you.

“Thank you,” Jaehyun replied politely, handing you the glass of water.

You accepted it gratefully, although your thirst was no longer for anything tangible. Nothing that you could touch with your bare, naked hands. It was for something deeper.

Only a couple seconds later, Jaehyun said, “Well, I’d better get going.”

Your eyes went wide. “You aren’t staying with me?”

“I have some more guests to greet and then a speech to give, and then I should be all yours,” Jaehyun told you, shooting you a consoling grin. “You look beautiful in that dress, by the way.”

Your lips spread into a tired smile. “Thanks. I’ve been wearing it all day.”

Jaehyun snorted and gave you a final pat on the back of reassurance before stepping away.

The party seemed to drag on without Jaehyun near your side and you were irreparably bored. You chatted with some guests with a polite set of white teeth ready to flash, but only because it was the expectation. Sneaking a couple of peeks at Jaehyun, it looked like he was still making his rounds.

Usually, the king and queen would help, but they obviously weren’t here. Thus, it was Jaehyun’s problem. He couldn’t just leave his own grandfather’s party unattended. That wouldn’t be in good taste.

You took a curious glimpse around and wondered how long you could disappear without anybody noticing. Probably only a couple of minutes. The whole ballroom would definitely know if you made a break for the double entrance, but if you slipped away through the kitchen, you had better odds.

With your glass of water in hand, you casually sauntered towards the little back hallway, hopeful your guests wouldn’t question your getaway.

When you entered the kitchen, you were immediately asked, “Where are you going?”

“Ten,” you gasped, a hand on your chest. He hadn’t even glanced up from his phone. You nearly dropped the glass of water. It had exhausted its purpose. “Would you ask that to a server?”

Ten retorted, “Would a server enter the kitchen with clacking six inch heels?”

“Touché,” you said. That explained how he knew it was you without even looking.

Ten was the only son of the family chef and he had no regard for the royal life. Well, that was debatable. Your in-laws would’ve thought he was disrespectful, had they (god forbid) ever met. You took Ten as someone unafraid to challenge the status quo. Of course, the two of you vibed. It was refreshing to talk to someone who didn’t remind you of your title every now and then.

Ten never, ever called you Your Highness. Not because he thought it was beneath him, but because he recognized your need for a friend. Not a follower.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Just getting away for a second, if that’s okay with you,” you deadpanned, crossing your arms.

Ten gasped dramatically. “During the party in loving memory of your husband’s dead grandfather? That’s scandalous, babe.”

You scoffed. “Please. You’re not even at the party.”

Ten shot back, “I’m not married to the prince, either.”

Though you didn’t mean it at all, you snarled, “You make me sick.”

“You hate that I’m right,” Ten said boastfully, sporting a victorious grin.

“Yeah, whatever,” you grumbled. “Where’s your dad? I thought the stew was supposed to be out fifteen minutes ago.”

Ten shrugged. “Smoke break. I wouldn’t eat it if I were you. Gave me the business.”

You winced. “Jesus. Well, I’ll be back. I need some fresh air.”

“I’ll let the hubby know if he asks questions.”

“Thanks.”

Then, you were on your way.

The corridors were less dense than they typically were, though considering there was an event happening not too many feet away from you, you figured security was keeping a close eye on the hallway on the other side.

If you were being frank, you had no clue where you were going. You just knew that you couldn’t be in that room with all those people much longer. Maybe you were starting to realize that the royal scene wasn’t for you. Or maybe it was your heightened suspicion planting those thoughts in your head.

Whatever it was, you didn’t like it. You wondered if Ten would take you in. You had no idea what a day in the life of Ten Lee was like, but it wouldn’t hurt to find out. That was a nice backup plan.

But leaving Jaehyun would sicken you in ways more lethal than any deadly disease. And Jaehyun would never forsake this life in this castle.

It was a part of him.

You’re talking crazy, you hissed to your insane thoughts. Perhaps it wasn’t a great idea to leave you alone by yourself with nothing but your thoughts and the silence that fed them. You might’ve been better off finding a guest with ears prepared to be talked off.

The east wing was unfamiliar to you although much of it looked identical to the west one. When you somehow traveled back over to your side, it came to your attention that the gardens were nearby. Curious, you made a beeline for the doors, wondering if Giselle was out finishing up her obligations for the day.

Night had dulled the sky completely when you stepped onto the familiar stone paths. The moon was there in her full glory, round and curvy with a thin veil of mist overneath, and the stars were few.

The clacking thud that Ten spoke of was a telltale sign of your presence, but you didn’t see anyone there to warn. Instead, the sound grounded you in reality, keeping you as far away from your teetering thoughts as humanly possible.

Wind was the only other sound. Actually, that was a lie; you heard owls lurking somewhere in the distance and knew they were wide awake. A sign that the night had truly begun.

“Hello?” you called out. “Giselle?”

Silence. That was strange. These people usually worked from bright and early in the morning until unsettlingly dark and late at night, but of course, if Giselle had gotten off early, you couldn’t complain. Good for her.

You were prepared to turn away and disappointedly retreat back to the party when you barely noticed something out of place in the corner of your eye.

Blood.

You were a curious person by nature. But this wasn’t an inquisitive investigation. This was a precautionary measure to make sure that nobody was injured.

But what you saw made you physically nauseous, a stir settling in your belly instantaneously. Your first instinct was to scream at the top of your lungs. Giselle was sprawled out just shy of the ice cold stone, lying on her stomach in a thick pool of her own blood.

“Oh my heavens,” you exclaimed, paralyzed with shock. Or fear. Probably a little (or a lot) of both.

Given that there was a ladder pressed against a tall tree and pruners almost right near her body, you made the reasonable assumption that she’d fallen. The shock dimmed a little in order so that you could think, and you kneeled over to check her for a pulse, but came to the heart-stopping conclusion that she was dead.

You backed away from Giselle. Your heart ached for her, but you couldn’t touch a dead body. The smell of death was foreign and overwhelming and you didn’t know how to keep yourself composed. Finding your bearings, you did what any reasonable person would do after discovering a lifeless body.

You went to find help.

It looked like an accident, like she had taken a wrong step and made a fatal mistake, but that didn’t mean you could just leave her there to rot. Somebody still had to call the police. And an ambulance.

Tears blurred your vision as you ran back to the east wing. You couldn’t believe that Giselle was gone. You didn’t want to believe that. She never let you get too close, but you recognized Giselle for the hard-working woman she was that had her life all too suddenly ripped away from her.

Fuck, this shouldn’t have happened. Giselle divulged to you about how her family needed her. They survived off of her income, her grueling long hours of hot hard work.

Your mind couldn’t help but come to the worst possible conclusions. What if she knew too much? She was the first one to mention the piano to you and she seemed to be in denial about something.

No, that’s ridiculous. There’s no way the monarchy would kill a devoted worker for keeping their filthy secrets, especially from their newest addition. She’s been inadvertently doing them a favor.

Then again, someone was guaranteed to keep a secret if it died with them. Still, there was no evidence that her untimely death and the piano’s curse was even remotely linked together. You saw the scene yourself. It looked like an accident, not a crime.

That made you remember what Jungwoo told you in the cellar about the deaths and disappearances. About how anybody who touched the piano either died mysteriously or disappeared without a trace.

You had no way of knowing for sure if Giselle ever touched the piano, but if she was a victim of sound, as Jungwoo put it, that should’ve somehow placed a target on her back. And yours. You shuddered at the thought.

Spooky sounds meant contact with the piano. You had done more than touched it. You’d played it. Almost every night for weeks. Jungwoo mentioned to Jaehyun that he didn’t hear the sounds, but he never told you if he touched the piano, either.

But if his father had, then knowing what Jungwoo knew, you doubted that he would.

Whatever it was, nothing made it easier to cope. Pictures of blood kept flickering behind your eyelids whenever you blinked. Your sobs echoed off the hallway walls with your hurried footsteps, but noticing the double doors finally come into view, you tried to pull yourself back together.

You subconsciously sighed out in relief when you got there, but when you came to draw it open, the hands refused to budge. “Fuck!” you cursed out.

Not that anybody would hear you. There was music thumping beneath your feet even outside the door and it would’ve done you no good to knock. It was strange that the door was locked, though. Now that you thought about it, there also weren’t any guards in the hallways.

But there was another entrance through the back.

Ten, you thought, already running again. Your legs ached from sprinting in heels, but somebody needed urgent medical attention. And Ten had a cellphone.

The kitchen entrance luckily wasn’t too far from where you already were and you came prepared to charge through the doors, but those, like the others, were also locked. You started to bang tirelessly on the door, yelling with complete vigor, “Ten, open the door! Someone needs help!”

There was no answer. You tried to beat harder, to scream louder, but every effort seemed useless. With your voice turning hoarse, that glass of water you left inside the kitchen suddenly sounded tempting.

“What the fuck,” you grumbled under your breath, exhausted and confused and in shock. You needed to lie down, but you refused to rest until help was on the way.

Why would Ten suddenly leave? Dinner couldn’t have even been ready yet. You didn’t know why he tagged along with his dad sometimes, but you did know that they came and went in the same

vehicle.

There was a door just to your left, one that led outside where Ten’s father would’ve parked. You immediately made a beeline for it, curious if they were gone. It was the only way you could rationalize the locked door and Ten’s absence.

You hoped to see somebody out there, and you did, but they weren’t breathing.

The chef was on the ground where he usually took his smoke breaks, bleeding as if he was torn from every seam and had been ripped open from every angle. You gaped, fixing a hand to your mouth as you wobbled in surprise, gripping the nearest wall for purchase.

Turning away from him, you heaved for breath and tried to keep your stomach's contents inside where they were. But there was blood splattered everywhere you looked. And if you thought the stench was overpowering earlier, you were in for the wildest ride of your life.

This death said loud and clear everything that Giselle’s didn’t. This was no mistake. Matter of fact, this scene was so messy that it couldn’t have not been done deliberately.

“Oh my god,” you rasped, unsure of what to say. And what to do. Never had you seen a dead body outside of a funeral backdrop and having seen not one, but two very dead people was seriously wounding your ability to think.

All you knew was that something was fishy. You thought Giselle’s death was a self-inflicted mistake, but you weren’t so convinced anymore, all things considered. This was the second body to wash up, metaphorically speaking. And this one had been undeniably murdered.

There was a serial killer on the loose.

Your first thought was Jaehyun and you started to panic, but you consoled yourself with the reminder that he had an entourage of loyal servants to protect him with their lives and shield him with their bodies. He was okay. Giselle and Ten’s father, on the other hand, not so much.

Speaking of Ten, you still had no clue where he was or what he was doing. For all you knew, he could’ve been the killer.

No. There’s no way. Ten didn’t have a mean bone in his body, much less a murderous one. Plus, what would he have against Giselle?

And why would he kill his own father?

I don’t know. None of this makes sense. I don’t know why anyone would hurt Giselle or the chef, or anyone for that fucking matter, you huffed, angry. These people didn’t deserve to die. The person responsible would pay.

Unable to withstand the stench, you pinched your nose and turned for the door. Of course, it would be the only one unlocked. You had the misfortune of seeing what was behind lucky door number three.

Back in the halls, you only walked aimlessly. You had no idea where the fuck you were going and it was probably a terrible idea to be out and about with an anonymous blood-hungry murderer on the loose, but you weren’t thinking that far.

Images continued to flicker in your head. You wondered what were the last things these people saw before they died, if they knew what they had coming. And you realized what a shame it was that everything these people knew died the second they took their last breaths.

You couldn’t wrap your head around this happening. And you wanted to know why. With the chef’s murder, accidents were completely out of the window, and you thought about the piano again. But that made even less sense.

What business would the chef have with the piano? You doubted that man had ever strayed further than the dining hall.

Your thoughts traveled even further. Giselle was a gardener. The bulk of her work happened outside and there was hardly any need for her to come indoors when all the tools for her job could be found in the shed.

More than ever, you needed answers, and more than ever, they seemed impossibly difficult to come by.

The further you traveled down the hallway, the louder the sound of jagged breathing grew until it finally snapped you out of your biohazard of thoughts. You stiffened with alarm, body alert, and realized it might’ve been in your best interest to locate a useful weapon.

You ducked behind a corner, not wanting to be caught like a helpless damsel in distress if it was the killer (though only a lousy one would’ve been so noisy), but you heard a groan and knew in your heart that you recognized that voice.

Peeking around the corner ever so slightly, you noticed Ten clutching his stomach and clinging to a wall for dear life, sticky with hot sweat. And you discerned that he was no threat.

“Ten,” you called out, approaching him with concern. “What’s wrong? Did someone hurt you?”

Ten shook his head, only barely keeping himself standing. You came to grab him and noticed he was burning up a thousand degrees, helping him slowly sit on the floor. “I told you. That stew gave me the business.”

“This isn’t just a stomach ache, Ten. I think you were poisoned,” you said, crouched down to be eye level with him.

Ten forced a smile even though he was clearly uncomfortable and in a lot of pain. “Yeah, you’re telling me. But my father was the only one controlling the food. He wouldn’t do that to me.”

The mention of his father made your shoulders stiffen. You scanned Ten’s face, wondering if you should’ve told him what you knew. If he was still alive by the end of this, he would find out one way or another. “Ten, have you seen your dad?”

“I know he’s dead.”

You cocked him a glance. “You don’t sound disappointed.”

“Do I sound like I’m in a lot of pain?” Ten asked.

“You sound like you’re trying to keep yourself whole.”

“That’s because I’m kinda dying here. I’m sorry if I’m bad at multitasking,” Ten hissed, paling on the spot.

Your gaze turned apologetic. “Listen, I’m sorry,” you whispered quietly, glancing around the hallway for suspicious onlookers. “I’ve found two dead bodies and I’ve been running all over the palace looking for help. Please, don’t be the third.”

“Trust me, I don’t wanna be any more than you want me to be…,” Ten trailed, wincing. “Holy fuck. Holy fucking shit. I’m gonna die.”

“Don’t say that!” you screamed.

Ten threw his head back and groaned, “Babe, I feel like my guts are being ripped open, and not in a good way.”

You wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Ten was good at keeping the mood as light as it could be as he literally died right before your eyes. And there was nothing you could do to save him. You felt helpless.

“We’ve got to find help,” you told him, grabbing his hands in yours.

Ten shook his head. His skin was glistening with a thick layer of sweat and each of his breaths sounded labored. “I can’t move. The room feels so hot. I think I’m gonna pass out.”

He looked like it, too. Tears threatened to fall from your eyes, but you fought them back. At the very least, if Ten was going now, he wouldn’t go alone. “Ten, somebody did this to you. You already said your father wouldn’t. Somebody else had to be in the kitchen.”

Ten shrugged weakly. “So many people went in and out of the kitchen. I don’t even know their names. It could’ve been anyone.”

You released a shaky breath. That answer helped no one.

Ten’s eyes started to flutter and you shook him in your arms, begging, “No, please don’t close your eyes on me. You’re a fighter. Fight.”

“I’m fighting,” he whispered, voice on the verge of silence. “But sometimes we just lose.”

“I can’t lose you, too,” you cried, trembling as you held him. For as long as he was there, breathing and talking to you, you wouldn’t let him think that he was alone.

Ten shook his head. You knew he had given it his all, because Ten wasn’t the type to go down without a fight, even if he didn’t win in the end. He’d never let someone else claim a peaceful victory. “If I die right now, I want you to know it’s been a pleasure knowing you.”

“Ten…,” you said. Tears made your eyes burn now. You were clenching your fists so hard his hands were probably sore.

“They might come for you. Don’t surrender. Whoever this guy is, you give them hell until you can’t anymore.”

A lone tear finally slipped past your cheek. “What if I don’t make it?”

“Then you die knowing you did absolutely everything you could to stay alive,” Ten whispered with the last of his strength.

Your heart was bursting with sadness and unadulterated rage. To watch somebody in their final moments was different than imagining it unfold. This made it even more real. This was a picture you would never forget even in death.

Finally, Ten’s strength gave out, and you lingered there for a minute even after. Your thumb pressed to his wrist and you noted that he still had a weak pulse.

You nodded your head. That was enough for you. But you had to find help immediately.

And you absolutely had to find out who was responsible for this. They would have a brutal punishment.

You wiped the tears from your eyes and started to run again, but you didn’t get far before you collided into Jaehyun’s chest, and you released a breath of relief when you saw him. “Oh my goodness, Jaehyun. Thank god it’s you. I’ve been trying to get help for ages. Two people are dead and I think Ten’s on his way out.”

Jaehyun’s voice was unbothered. “Really?”

You realized then that the night was far from over.

You pulled back, suspicious. You just told him that two people had died in his castle. He should’ve been fuming. “Why do you sound so nonchalant?”

Jaehyun’s lips were in a line. “I warned you not to go looking too deep. You should’ve listened like a good girl.”

The realization was starting to settle in, but you didn’t want to know the truth. You didn’t even want to fathom it. For so many weeks, you’d been unknowingly wallowing in ignorance. “This is your fault. You did this, didn’t you?”

“Yes. All of it was me,” Jaehyun said, like he was proudly boasting about his murders.

You shook your head. You knew there was something going on, something that your husband was at the heart of, but not like this. “Ten’s dying.”

Jaehyun looked and sounded completely indifferent, “Okay, that’s dramatic. He shouldn’t be dead. He’s in for a solid nap, though. And a concussion if he hit the ground too hard.”

That didn’t happen. You had been the one to personally lower Ten to the ground. Either way, you were none too pleased. You weren’t sure if that was supposed to be reassuring, because Jaehyun’s tone was empty and his face was borderline inscrutable.

Your whole body felt weak. The room was spinning. Your own body was on the brink of collapse.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Jaehyun commented, studying your appearance. You probably looked like you had actually run a marathon.

“You’re a monster,” you snapped, brimming with loathing and hatred.

Jaehyun didn’t flinch. “It’s been said,” he told you, like it was only a regular insult to him.

You shook your head. This couldn’t be happening.

Jaehyun took a step closer to you, and you took twice as many back. You wanted to be nowhere near him. This wasn’t the Jaehyun you knew. He was cold. Alternatively, maybe this was the Jaehyun you’d known all along, the one you’d tried to suppress.

Your mind was showing you the warning signs. She was giving you all the right signals. And yet, you were blind to each of them.

Jaehyun tilted his head, looking at you with fucking nothing. There was nothing in his eyes. Nothing on his face. “Do you believe in happy endings?”

“Not with you in it,” you seethed, convulsing with a newfound anger you never thought you could possess, much less direct towards your husband.

Jaehyun snickered for the first time since you’d last seen him. “I’m giving you the chance to have yours.”

You glared at him, wary. “What does that mean?”

“It means that you have thirty minutes to leave this castle and have your happy ending without me, but if I catch you before then, you’re mine. It’s like hide and seek.”

You wanted to rage. This man had the audacity to play fucking games with you when so many lifes were gone and many more were probably at stake. There was no telling who else he’d hurt. “When do my thirty minutes start?”

“Right now.”

You left then and there. You couldn’t stand to be in proximity of Jaehyun for another fucking second. And he didn’t follow. He was letting you think that you had a chance.

When you turned the corner, safely out of his vision, you could finally acknowledge the beaten and battered condition of your heart. The look Jaehyun had given you only moments ago was unlike any other you’d ever seen. It was colder.

You should’ve seen it coming. Jaehyun was the missing piece. This was all happening because of his grandfather’s piano, for fuck’s sake. The same grandfather whose birthday happened to be today. Of course, it wasn’t a coincidence that bodies started dropping that same day.

You were angry. You were hurt. To be honest, you were just the right amount of everything. And yet, you were thinking about how madly you were still in love with Jaehyun.

Wincing your eyes closed, you wished that this was just a nightmare like everything else. That you would wake up in Jaehyun’s arms and he'd tell you that it was all a bad dream. Unfortunately, the longer the night went on, the more you accepted that that couldn’t be farther away from the truth.

The only real difference was that Jaehyun wasn’t right on your tail. He was giving you an opportunity to escape and free yourself from this hellhole once and for all. Your shoulders suddenly felt cold when you recalled something that he’d told you.

I would never chase you, Jaehyun had said. I will always have you right where I want you.

The statement made you feel uneasy then, but you overlooked it, because you wrongfully assumed that Jaehyun was harmless.

You shook the thoughts away. He wasn’t worth thinking about right now. Survival was your top priority and escaping was the only way you’d ever know peace.

The palace had a grand total of four entrances stretched across its acres - the main gate, the east entrance, the south entrance, and the west entrance. Only the east entrance was nearby. You knew Jaehyun wouldn’t have made this easy, but it wouldn’t hurt to try.

You hurried to the nearest exit leading outdoors and breathed only a little easier when you were met with the fresh, crisp night air. Given that you’d been running in heels for what felt like hours, you finally ditched them near a bush and started to run again.

Traveling to the gate would take forever without a car. The same could be said about the rest of the castle, far from tiny, and you only had thirty minutes on the clock.

You had to make every minute count.

You wanted to sob, but you focused solely on getting the fuck out of there. You hadn’t forgotten about Ten, but you couldn’t help him here. Jaehyun had apparently taken mercy upon him, sparing his life where he hadn’t hesitated to steal others.

Why? Was it some kind of reflection of control? Did he realize that Ten wasn’t the root of his need to kill?

Whatever that was.

“Too much is going on right now,” you whispered to yourself, heart thudding quicker.

For a second you wondered if the other staff you cared for was alright. These were people you saw everyday, working from dusk till dawn, and yet still treated you with respect and kindness. Their sweetness deserved to be spread, not eliminated and forgotten.

Giselle was gone and had no hope for revival, but as far as you were concerned, Jungwoo was still skipping around with a burden of secrets on his shoulder. Part of you couldn’t bring yourself to fully trust him, not after his disaster of a meeting of Jaehyun, but that didn’t mean he should’ve died.

Apparently, you and Jaehyun weren’t on the same page. The worst part was that you couldn’t even begin to fathom what he got out of slaughtering his employees like animals. You’d never been able to see inside his head.

The east gate came into view and you circled in on it, desperate to make an escape. You briefly considered the possibility of Jaehyun being nearby, potentially having taken a closer exit, prepared to hinder you by any means necessary.

But when the gate refused to budge like you feared, you came to the conclusion that he was definitely far away. Jaehyun was five steps ahead of you.

He had all of the advantages in this twisted game, you realized. Jaehyun grew up in this palace; he obviously had to know all of the ins and outs, every nook and cranny. It would take you, on the other hand, the entire thirty minutes to navigate from one end of the place to the other.

This game was never created to be fair. You remembered him showing you little shortcuts along the palace to make your trips shorter. If you wanted to survive, you’d have to fight for your life.

“Fuck,” you groaned under your breath. You had no way of telling for sure how much time had passed, but if you had to guess, at least ten minutes.

The sky was dark and mistier than it was earlier. At least it felt that way. The tears stinging your eyes made it even harder to see and you were inching closer to succumbing to the battle. If Jaehyun had rigged it from the start, you knew there was no way in hell you were getting out.

But Ten’s words rang out in your brain. He was alive for now, but as far as he knew, they could’ve been his final ones. And you knew you couldn’t give up yet.

Mustering the courage to continue fighting like Ten would’ve, you remembered something. There was an emergency exit near Jaehyun’s grandfather’s room. You didn’t care to know why. Bad things just seemed to happen when he was involved.

Without a second thought, you headed back inside. If you wanted out, you didn’t have a choice.

Your sanity fought for control against your pumping adrenaline and you came to accept that it wasn’t possible for both to coexist with each other. One or the other. And if you were up against a sicko like Jaehyun, you needed to fight fire with fire.

You had to degrade yourself to his level, meet him where he was at. You had to become you at your worst version. A hell-raising monster with a thirst for blood.

There was a familiar ground nearby when you approached the door. The part of the garden you never wandered into, because it was the same place that godawful dream happened. With the pond and stone galore.

You quickly swiped a pitchfork, throwing it over your shoulder, and when you were finally through the door, started sprinting back down the hallways. The emergency exit was all the way in the west wing and you had less time than you would’ve liked to make it the hell out of there.

Every bone in your body ached, but you had too much to fight for. You didn’t even know what all was at stake if Jaehyun won, but you didn’t want to know, and you couldn’t sleep beside him at night anymore knowing who he was and what he’d done.

Turning each corner, you looked around for signs of a lingering Jaehyun before you kept going. Every hallway looked exactly the same as the one that came before it and it made you feel like you were walking in circles, impossible to tell if you were even going anywhere. It was thrusting you far past the brink of madness.

Minutes passed, but courtesy of the painful yet handy adrenaline rush, it felt like seconds when you found the west wing stairs. Taking the elevator would’ve been a quicker option, but if Jaehyun was nearby, he would know if the elevator was preoccupied, and you had no interest in playing russian roulette with your life.

But there was a familiarly pungent smell in the air.

You wanted to be sick when you saw the source. The others were messy, but this death was brutal in ways you had never witnessed. Jungwoo’s remains were perched on the stairs within a pool of nauseating blood, sitting in his own overkill.

His insides were definitely on the outside. Matter of fact, they were everywhere, decorating a number of steps. Jungwoo was savagely mangled and mutilated, similar to how a wolf would ravage an elk, like his killer wanted there to be little to nothing of him left.

“Jungwoo,” you gasped in shock, crouching down as your legs started to tremble.

His dead body was on display. Like the person who killed him wanted you to see what they’d done. And you couldn’t bring yourself to accept that Jaehyun was the reason why.

All the skepticism you had towards him devolved into regret. Of course, Jungwoo wasn’t to blame for any of the wicked stuff happening in the shadows. Like his father, he was a victim. And at the end of the day, like you, all he wanted was answers.

There was a weight on your chest and an unbridled rage spiraling inside your heart. “I’ll find them for you,” you whispered vengefully.

Then, you heard it. Scratching in the walls stretching near the stairway. In spite of the several claims of their existence, you’d never heard them until now. Soon after, you could’ve swore you heard a familiar voice.

Jaehyun. He was in the fucking walls?

Stepping around Jungwoo’s bloody corpse, careful not to step your bare feet in any stray specks of blood, you headed upstairs with a sparkling revolve keeping your blood pumping. The emergency exit was close.

It was actually right down the hallway. When you were walking from the bedchamber with Jaehyun, the journey felt longer, but you ignored every glare from those evil statues and came right in front of the emergency door.

After yanking the knob, it begrudgingly opened and you stepped inside without a moment of consideration. There was no time. Do or die.

The door closed behind you on its own terms. You just kept pushing. This was your only ticket to escape and though you weren’t exactly sure where the path led, you had no intention to stop and fret about your whereabouts. It was worth nothing though, that the deeper you came, the more it felt like a secret passageway.

The hallway didn’t look the way you pictured an escape route. The walls were accessorized with portraits and lights. And you couldn’t believe your shock when you saw it diverge into different paths like a crossroad.

This fucking was a secret passageway.

There was something else you noticed. Those scratches sounded closer than they had when you were outside, like somebody dragging their nails onto the walls as they walked.

“What the fuck?” you wondered.

You stiffened when you heard your husband’s voice, “Darling, is that you? Your thirty minutes are over.”

Nope. Silent as ever, you made for the other path. You were picking your battles.

Jaehyun was probably closer to the way out of here after all. He would’ve never given you a free opportunity. He was probably guarding the escape just in case you were clever (or lucky) enough.

His footsteps were slow. You couldn’t see him, but you could hear him, and he was in no particular hurry to catch you. You worried that you were walking into a dead end, but when you came out on the other side, there was another set of doors.

Your eyes flickered between them. You had time to waste before Jaehyun even got anywhere close to you, but you wanted to get ahead. After a moment of carefully contemplating, you made the nerve-wracking decision to go for the right.

When you stepped out, you found yourself right back where it all began. You were outside, but not as far as you would’ve liked. It was the gardens. You glimpsed around and saw the tree you wed Jaehyun under.

Though it had been full of white flowers the day you exchanged vows, promising each other eternity, they had unfortunately succumbed to the drier air.

“That was a fun day, huh?”

Your startled body jolted with alarm and the usual ease that filled you when you realized it was only Jaehyun behind you was nowhere to be found. He was the evil you’d been searching for, hiding in plain sight.

He had you fooled. He made you think that he was somebody he wasn’t. Worst of all, you believed him. You trusted him, completely and utterly. You were willing to give him all of you at the drop of a dime.

“Stay back. I’ll hurt you,” you threatened, posing the pitchfork in your sweaty hands.

Emotion flickered over Jaehyun’s face; amusement. “A pitchfork? That’s really medieval, don’t you think?”

Your tone darkened, “I’m warning you.”

Jaehyun stepped closer, leaving himself open and vulnerable. “Then, do it. I’m right here. I have no weapon,” he said, holding his hands above him.

Panic settled in. It occurred to you that your feelings for Jaehyun would never let you hurt him unless your own life was threatened, and for some reason, you believed that Jaehyun would never hurt you. He had all of the opportunities. Yet he had never a finger on you.

Plus you still needed answers. For yourself, and for the people whose lives were taken because of them. Tears stinging your eyes again and a shattering echoing out in your heart, you tossed the pitchfork aside and roared, “I hate you!”

“That isn’t true,” Jaehyun said, gentle and tender. His voice was loving, but his eyes were soulless. “You love me. I make you happy.”

You shook your head vigorously. “I’ve spent the past couple of hours in distress, all because of you. Why? What’s really going on, Jaehyun?”

“At the end of the day, the piano calls, and I answer. The responsibility skipped my father, but it’s what my grandfather did. I didn’t have a choice,” Jaehyun said, wholly convinced that this was some god-given obligation.

And you were having none of it. It was just excuses. “That doesn’t make sense. You killed all of those people because of a fucking piano?”

“This is why I couldn’t tell you. I knew that you wouldn’t understand. You have to live it to know.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” you seethed, stepping away from him.

Jaehyun didn’t follow. He was comfortable standing there and watching you, because he knew you had nowhere to run. “This isn’t a regular piano. It hands out curses like candy. It’s an entity and to prevent itself from being destroyed, it chooses its protectors.”

The whole world was spinning. Was he trying to tell you that the piano was alive or something?

“He was the chosen protector - my grandfather, I mean. Like I said, it skipped my father and went to me. The piano gives anyone that touches it one of two curses to protect itself. I only enforce that fate.”

The world around you was starting to blur. Jaehyun didn’t see those corpses as people. Instead, he saw them as curses that needed to be removed.

Standing required too much extra strength that you didn’t have. You stumbled and staggered, weakening by the second, and when you started to head for the ground, Jaehyun caught you in his strong arms. “Careful. You might get hurt.”

He was perfectly composed while everything as you knew it was falling apart, piece by fucking piece. Glancing into his eyes, you hissed, “What are the curses?”

“Hm?”

“You said that when someone touches the piano, they get one of two curses. What are they?”

“Death,” Jaehyun said as normal as ever. “Or perpetuity. They have to live their worst fear until the day that they croak.”

You didn’t think that you could get any angrier, but that didn’t even begin to describe the sharp pain heating your whole body up to hell. “You let me touch that piano, you encouraged me to, knowing I would immediately be cursed.”

Jaehyun saw where you were going with this and replied coolly, “If I knew you were going to die, I would’ve kept you away from it.”

“So you knew I would’ve been cursed with perpetuity,” you said in an accusing tone. “Meaning you knew my biggest fear.”

“I might’ve exploited my power. Your every nightmare revolves around me. You’re so scared of me it keeps you awake at night. I had to use that to my advantage. I can’t lose you.”

And there it was. The ugly truth on a silver platter. Jaehyun gave you the creeps and instead of trying to prove his innocence to you, he took advantage of your fear, making sure to create a reality where you would never be able to get rid of him for as long as you both breathed.

This was the end. Glancing at the tree where you exchanged vows only earlier this spring, you realized that everything pointed back to Jaehyun. It always had.

Pulling back from Jaehyun, because you couldn’t stand to touch him, you snapped, “You didn’t chase me, because you knew that in the end, everything led back to you.”

Jaehyun didn’t deny it, chuckling. Like he thought that he was clever. “Why would I chase you when I’ve already bound you to me?”

You physically felt weak and sick. You didn’t want to believe that Jaehyun had somehow manipulated your fate so that you couldn’t leave him. Your only escape was through death. Every shaky exhale you took ached.

Jaehyun continued, “That’s why your little dreams don’t make sense. It doesn’t matter how far or quickly you run away from me. I will always catch you without trying. I always get what I want and you’ll never slip through my fingers. You’re mine.”

At those words, you wobbled away, but it was more like a vicious drawback. “You killed Giselle and Jungwoo and Ten’s father. Why?”

Like he was incapable, there wasn’t a lick of remorse in Jaehyun’s voice when he replied, “I put Giselle out of her misery. She had the perpetuity curse. No matter how hard she worked, she was going to be doomed to her worst nightmare for the rest of life - dying poor. I only made it happen sooner. It was quick.”

You felt like regurgitating yesterday’s lunch the longer this conversation happened, but you held it back.

“Jungwoo had it coming. He didn’t have the curse, unlike his father, but it was obvious that he had a thing for you and it was disgusting. I honestly did him a favor. He doesn’t have to live in pain anymore.”

Had a thing for you? You never got that vibe from Jungwoo. He was polite and respectful, and you treated him likewise. You never thought you would get a man killed for his manners.

“And the chef,” Jaehyun began, pleasure flickering onto his face for the briefest of seconds, but you swore it was there. “He was just practice and a victim of opportunity. It’s been a minute. I’m rusty.”

“You killed him for no reason,” you spat.

“It appears that way.”

Your body recoiled with every unpleasant feeling it had to offer. “You killed Jungwoo for no reason, too. He was just a nice guy,” you said through gritted teeth.

It was like the angrier you got, the calmer Jaehyun stood, taking every one of your metaphorical hits like they were a gentle nudge to the shoulder. “I killed him out of love for you. He wanted what was mine. I had to remind him of his place. He was a nobody.”

Turning away, you decided that you couldn’t look at Jaehyun any longer. You couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. You were upset and disappointed and everything in between.

Jaehyun’s eyes were fixed to that goddamn tree. “I had no feelings for you at first. Marrying you was just another duty I knew I had to fulfill for my country. It was business. But then we started to get to know each other, and I fell for you.”

“I had feelings for you too,” you croaked, voice shaking with pain.

Jaehyun was quick to add, “You still do. Don’t you see what I did for you? I turned you into royalty.”

“I never fucking asked you to,” you screamed off the top of your lungs. Letting the whole palace hear you for all you cared, if anybody was still alive in there. “I married you because it was what my parents wanted. I just happened to actually like you for a minute.”

“You’ll come around,” Jaehyun said nonchalantly, unfazed by your aggression. “You’ll realize that you were made for me. And you’ll accept that our love was written in the stars.”

There were no stars when you glanced into the night sky. Not even a sliver of the moon. Even she was too ashamed of what was happening under her nose right now and couldn’t bear to witness it unfold.

But it dawned on you then. The only time you would ever see the moon and her stars again was if you stepped onto the grounds of this very garden. Jaehyun had caught you. You waltzed straight into his trap and now you had to reap what you’d sowed.

You were his. Whether you liked it or not. You might’ve not ever given up on escaping him, even if it took a lifetime, but for right now, Jaehyun had won.

“Let’s go, baby,” Jaehyun said, wrapping an arm around your waist. You shuddered. His hands were cold to the touch. “It’s late. We should get ready for bed. We have to stop by the piano so that you don’t have bad dreams.”

The walk to Jaehyun’s grandfather’s bedchamber was quieter than it had ever been. You kept him at arm’s length, ashamed. And maybe a little fearful.

And there the piano stood in its glory when the door opened, untouched and unmoving. She was evil as ever, wallowing in her curse. Your fingers ran across the keys as the curse wrecked through your blood, present and constant.

“I’ll never forgive you for this,” you whispered, glancing up at Jaehyun.

For the first time in a minute, Jaehyun smiled. He replied sweetly, “Darling, it’s okay. You’ll understand soon. We only have each other now.”

You didn’t want to know what that meant. Instead, you pressed your fingers to the bitterly cold keys, squeezing your eyes closed as you played a melody by heart.

Finally, tears started to fall down, gathering on the keys. Then, you realized that you weren’t a victim of sound, but an indulger. Your body was there, but your mind was with nature. With the blowing wind and gentle breezes, the rippling water and swimming critters.

Your mind was with your friends. With Giselle in the garden, helping her trim branches and plot plants for the queen. With Jungwoo, exploring new places around the palace that you never knew existed. With Ten, rambling about anything and everything under the sun.

You escaped through every harmonious noise, fingers pacing ruthlessly, and keeping your eyes closed as you pretended that everything was okay.

Jaehyun came behind you, resting his head on your shoulder while his arms came around you again. His touch was familiar and though it used to keep you whole, when you sat there, defenseless and helpless, you could feel a piece of you break off and die in his arms.

#jaehyun smut #nct 127 smut #nct smut #jaehyun x reader #nct imagines #jaehyun imagines #jung jaehyun smut #jeong jaehyun smut #nct x reader #nct #nct scenarios

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moralesmilesanhour · 1 year

Text

teamwork (makes the dream work...?)

genre: enemies to lovers I guess? I'm bad at these 😭

summary: one week, your usual work partner is absent, so instead you are seated next to a genius with attitude problems. it happens.

wc: ~500

A/N: if i can manage to be consistent for once, this will probably be a series because I haven't done one in a while. pls feel free to leave your reactions in the tags or comments! happy reading 🫶🏾

next see all parts in my masterlist!

Sunlight filtered through the large classroom window. Usually, you'd be seated right by it, letting the rays warm your face in the air-conditioned room.

Not today. Your usual partner was out sick, so you were moved to the back of the classroom. Blocking out the sunshine was the silhouette of a boy you had only seen in the hallways once or twice.

He had deep brown skin, with two neat cornrows cascading down either side of his neck and brushing his shoulders. You also made out an undercut, faded cleanly beneath the braids. There was a case meant for holding glasses sitting at the front of his desk, but no spectacles sitting on his prominent nose.

The boy was bent over his worksheet already, arm covering the page.

"Hey," you said with a pleasant upturn in your voice. A full thirty seconds passed. He didn't answer, so you try again.

"Um, excuse me-"

"I heard you."

The boy kept his eyes on his desk, brows knitted together with focus. He was making broad, sharp strokes with his pencil. His elbow moved for a moment, revealing not a sheet of math problems, but a piece of printer paper filled with intricate geometric designs. Precise lines come together to create the form of a caped figure. It has large, mechanical claws and a mask with sharp, wide eyes.

"That's a cool drawing," you commented. The boy's shoulders jumped to his ears as if he'd been caught before dropping back down. He finally looked up from the page and paused. Wide, brown eyes flickered across your face, trying to determine what to make of you.

"Thanks," was all that the boy said before returning to his sketching. It wasn't long before you interrupted him again.

"You not gonna finish your work?"

"I'm already done, that's why Ms. Jones put me back here and let me rock."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Well, excuse the fuck outta me," you muttered to yourself.

You messed with the sleeve of your royal blue uniform blazer in silence, weighing your options. Ms. Jones wasn't going to let you turn in another incomplete assignment, and this kid couldn't even be assed to say 'hello'. A deep sigh escapes your lips.

"Can I get your name, at least?"

The boy set his pen down with a slam, and looked up at you as if he'd just been asked what color the sky was.

"Morales," he deadpanned, with a slight roll on the 'r'.

"Which Morales?"

"Miles."

You hummed in slight recognition, having heard the name somewhere before, murmured next to you in passing.

"You Dominican?"

"Puerto Rican."

"Oh, cool."

"M-hm."

He picked up his pen again and began to twirl it between his pointer and middle finger, but held your gaze. You looked like you were finally about to get to the actual question.

"Well, Morales," you began with a smile.

Here it comes.

"Since you're done, can you help me with-"

"No."

You scoffed, "What's the point of being partners, then?"

Miles had already returned to his original position, scribbling away. He didn't look at you, this time.

"We not partners, ma."

...And so began the longest school week of your life.

#miles morales #spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spider verse spoilers #earth 42 miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #moralesanhour

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peachesofteal · 1 year

Text

Dead Disco / Chapter 6

Dead Disco masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 5.2k words - AO3 18+ Minors DNI. Explicit sex. Top Simon Riley. Bottom Johnny MacTavish. Praise kink. Darling is her own tag/warning. Angst, anxiety, relationship issues, nightmares, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff. Lots of feelings. Established throuple. Pov switch. The guys propose a field trip.

The rain tonight is fitting.

It’s dreary, and sad, and if it was the middle of the day, the sky would be a soggy grey color, clouds full and punchy, waiting to burst open with their weight.

The drops against the window are the only sound outside of Simon’s voice in the flat, his affirms and negatives bouncing around the room wildly, looking for somewhere, anywhere to land.

He stares at his feet while he listens to his captain, counting the number of speckled flecks of dark wood in the floor. You won’t look at him, your eyes staring dully out the window, watching the rain drops. Holding your breath.

Johnny watches him like a hawk though, those sharp, too keen eyes honing in on every syllable, every variance of inflection. He keeps one arm around you, tethering you to his body, like a leash, a landline, a connection unbreakable.

“-not exactly sure yet, wanted to talk to ya first.” Simon nods. This may, quite possibly, be the absolute worst timing of their lives right now, but he’s unsure how to communicate that to the captain so he’ll understand. Price may not be entirely aware of their current predicament, but he does know about you, and he knows what it’s like to have someone at home, waiting. Wondering. Watching.

“We’re moving this comin’ week.” He grits out, teeth gnashed so tightly he thinks they might break. Johnny’s hand moves up and down your arm, his pace anxious, and quick, instead of something slow and soothing that may be more appropriate, or helpful, in this moment. He’s panicking. He’s panicking, and you’re staring out the window like you can see the future through the glass. Price says something, a remark about them getting a new place and Simon nods robotically. “Can I call you back, sir?”

“In the morning.” He answers, and Simon flexes his wrist before giving him another affirm and hanging up.

He folds himself next to you on the couch, one hand reaching for Johnny’s, the other pulling your focus by lightly tracing a line down your jaw.

“Darling.” He says and you face him fully, fresh tears in your eyes.

“So.” You rub your cheek, and inhale deeply. “When do you leave?”

“Yer thinkin’ about her.” Johnny grins, teeth split to reveal the flashes of pink and red inside his mouth. A delectable, delicious mouth that Simon wants nothing more to feel on him right now. On his own. On his skin. On his cock. “You been thinkin’ about ‘er?” He’s not wrong. Simon is thinking about you. He’s thinking about how he does wish you were here right now, in their bed, with them. He’s thinking about how you’re doing, if you’re feeling okay, if you’re thinking about them too. He’s thinking about how it would be, if he had both you and Johnny naked beneath him in this moment, your body wet and ready for them, your eyes wide with anticipation. But he’s not only thinking about you, too. He’s thinking about Johnny. He’s thinking about the way Johnny collapsed into bed this morning after they got home, but still couldn’t fall asleep until Simon was wrapped around him, pinning his body beneath his weight, safe. Secure. He’s thinking about Johnny earlier in the shower, his fingernails in Simon’s scalp, the warmth and shelter of his touch. He’s thinking about Johnny in the kitchen afterwards, naked save for a towel, water droplets streaking a course down his stomach that Simon followed with his tongue.

“I’m thinkin’ about you, MacTavish.” He paws at Johnny on the bed, rotating him by his hips so he lays belly down. “And I’m thinking about her.”

“We could call her.” He says dreamily, and Simon presses a thumb behind his knee, knocking his one leg out and to the side.

“We could.” He doesn’t say he wants to. He doesn’t know if he wants to. He doesn’t know how to handle this… thing, that has happened. To both of them. Doesn’t know what to do with you, the girl that suddenly appeared in their lives so easily, like you’ve always fit there.

It’s not like this would be easy. It’s not like it’s something they have experience with, either. Sure, they’ve brought additional partners to their bed in the past, but usually in passing, almost always to never be seen again.

Until you. Until you became a “second time thing” and then a third, and then a fourth. Until they were calling you last month, home from an op and wondering about you, thinking about you, talking about you, like they are now.

You… you would be, you are, different. Something new. Something fragile. Something theirs.

Simon shoves it all down, packs it away for another time.

They could get hurt. You could get hurt. Everything could go wrong.

Johnny wiggles in front of him, rising up on his knees, back arched while he watches over his shoulder. The curve of his spine, swell of his ass sitting just so, right and perfect, ready for the taking. Ready for Simon. He ghosts his touch across his skin, smirking when Johnny draws a hot, sharp breath. His cock swells, already heavy with desire, desperate for Johnny.

He presses a finger against his already slick rim, prepped with lube moments ago, and feels how Johnny twitches for him before pushing through, crooking it just so, just right that Johnny sputters, all logical thoughts emptying from his brain.

“There it is.” Simon’s voice is low, dangerous, and it drives Johnny farther into a different headspace, the one that he desperately needs every now and then, the one that only Simon can give him. He strokes along the spot, and Johnny pulses with electricity, fully trembling beneath him. It’s a lovely sight for Simon, truly one of the sweetest things he’s seen, and he runs a thumbnail down the center of Johnny’s cock, just to tease him that much more.

“Simon.” He whines, voice breathy and full of need, sitting on the cusp of shattering.

“Hush. Need you ta be a good boy for me.” He admonishes, but reassures him with his touch, rubbing a hand up and down his spine before tracing a finger back down to his arse, where the tight ring of muscle waits. His Johnny, smart, gorgeous, deadly, perfect Johnny. His sweet, good boy. He strokes his cock languidly, watching his Sergeant squirm before he presses the crown of his cock to where he waits, his body worked open in the last hour while Johnny drooled on his cock, and Simon stretched him around his fingers.

Johnny chokes when he pushes into him, his chest heaving for air and Simon smiles, taking his time, enjoying the thrum of Johnny’s muscles around his cock, grinding deep once he’s fully seated.

“Fuck!” he yelps, and Simon folds himself forward, hand knotting into the mohawk, mouth kissing along the skin of his shoulder.

“That’s it.” He croons, flexing his hips, thrusting in tiny, micro movements that makes Johnny’s skin slick with sweat. “That’s good, Johnny, so, so good. Openin’ up so nice for me.” His cock throbs, an involuntary shiver working its way up and down his spine while Johnny moans into the pillow. He’s beautiful, and Simon can’t not stare him, the flush of his skin, the color of his eyes, the way his tongue darts forward to lick his lips. So, so beautiful. And so, so utterly Simon’s. He thrusts harder, faster, skin slapping against skin until Johnny is crying so beautifully, groans falling from his lips while Simon splits him open on his cock. "My sweet, good boy. Takin' me like you were made for it." He grunts between thrusts, and Johnny keens.

Johnny’s hand flails wildly at his side, seeking purchase across the sheets, and Simon grabs it, snaking his own under his chest and pulling him upwards until his back is nearly pressed against his chest, spine curved and jaw slack.

“I love you.” Simon murmurs in his ear, holding both of them completely still. “I love you, MacTavish. You’re mine.” He finds Johnny’s cock and strokes, hand already slick, and Johnny practically purrs in response, clenching around Simon, his body trying to draw Simon’s orgasm from him while Simon pulls Johnny towards his.

“Yours.” He gasps in response. “All- shite- you, Si. You.”

“Come for me, Johnny. Come on.” The encouragement is all it takes before Johnny’s tensing and then spilling all over Simon’s fist, his voice pitching deeper when he shouts his name.

Simon pushes him back down onto the bed, arcing up over his body, fucking into him wildly, chasing his own end, his burning desire to fill him up with his come, mark him with everything he has, drowning him in his own orgasm. His Johnny. His, his, his- it’s all he thinks about when he pushes deep, the angle causing Johnny to cry out, and then he comes, sealing his hips to the swell of Johnny’s while he lets his cock leak every drop into his body.

He cuddles Johnny close, breath fawning over his ear, one hand intertwined with his while he strokes his hair from his face, palm smoothing over his forehead and back in a repeated motion. He’s sweet, and sated, and limp in Simon’s arms, mouth gapped open while he slips in and out of twilight sleep. Simon’s nearly there too, brain carefully shutting down piece by piece until Johnny tenses, the muscles in his arms and back going rigid, signaling that he’s awake, and he’s thinking. Or worrying.

“What is it?” He whispers, eyes still closed.

“What if she misses us too?” Johnny whispers. “What if she needs us?” Simon sighs.

“I don’t know, love.” He kisses his shoulder and holds him tight. “I don’t know.”

“Let’s not think about it until the morning.” You mumble, voice fatigued with exhaustion. “I don’t want to think about it… right now.” He can feel Johnny’s eyes on him, but he doesn’t return his gaze, instead keeping his own on you in this moment. You’re too aware, too observant, and you’d pick up on it. You always know when they’re exchanging glances, glances that communicate so much, and it never surprises, or frustrates him, when you grow exasperated with it, with them. They should be better about it, for you. He should be better.

“You sure?” Johnny hums, his fingertips lightly caressing your belly before stroking across your ribs and up to cradle your face. His eyes catalogue you, noticing and tallying the same things Simon has. Your exhaustion. Your anxiety. The toll the past few weeks have taken on you. Their fault, the toll that this relationship has taken on you is completely their fault. He suddenly feels like he’s swallowed a stone’s worth of hot rocks. “You’re so tired, darling girl.” Johnny fusses, and you nod sleepily, turning onto your side, waggling your fingers behind your back, the signal that you want your preferred sleeping position; Johnny curled behind you, his chest pressed to your back, and Simon partially underneath you, your ear pressed to his heart. You always hold Johnny’s hand, resting it across Simon’s abdomen, where he folds his own atop the two of yours. Your legs tangle together, and Johnny normally scratches Simon’s head before he falls asleep, something he’s carried home from ops, a self-soothing mechanism for both of them. It works differently, in the field, because they don’t normally sleep together and they’re always missing you, the lost puzzle piece in their mess of a life, but Johnny always somehow finds the time to sit or stand or lay near Simon at night, sneakily running his hands through his hair for a few moments before disappearing off to bed.

They always have each other, even when they’re across the world.

And you’re always the one left behind.

Every time. You’re left here alone. It’s not like they call, or text, or even email. It’s not like you even know when to expect them back half the time.

His chest feels tight. His body feels cold. You never asked for this. How is this fair to you?

A chilling thought creeps into his mind. Would you have been better off, if they had left you alone? Would you be happier?

“Simon?” you whisper, and he shifts, tilting his chin downwards to where you’re peering up at him. “You… okay? Your heart is beating really fast.” Johnny moves, just slightly so he can look over, and Simon swallows. It’s dry, but he does it anyway. Doesn’t know what else to do.

“I’m alright, knackered though.” You sigh, pressing a kiss to his chest, just above the jagged line of a scar, and he pulls you in tighter, shifting so that his body cages you in against Johnny’s.

“Goodnight… I love you.” You mumble sleepily, the words meant for both of them, and Johnny kisses you tenderly behind the ear, while Simon leans down to brush his lips across the top of your head.

“Love you.” Johnny whispers, eyes slipping shut.

“Love you.” Simon is the last, as always, selfishly collecting both admissions and holding them close to his heart, where he replays them over and over, hands flexing against both of your bodies until he’s falling asleep, the two of you safe in his arms.

“We’ll be fine.” “Ah know, but...” Johnny trails off, eyes tracking to the closed bathroom door where the shower is running. “You’re recovering, and she’s… something’s goin on, Si.” He shifts his weight onto the crutch and leans forward, wrapping Johnny up with his free arm as well as he can before pressing their foreheads together.

“I’m fine. Price needs ya.”

“Dinnae like leaving either of you.” He snaps, pulling away, while Simon rubs an exasperated hand over his face. “I’ll miss ya two, too bloody much.” He’s being reluctantly pulled away while Simon’s on medical leave, still healing from his last brutal bout of injuries that landed him on a med-evac and emergency surgery nearly a month ago, and he’s less than pleased.

But when the 141 calls, they answer. And since Simon can’t, Johnny must.

“We’ll miss you too.”

“And ah am worried, ‘bout her.”

“I know.” Simon doesn’t say it, because he doesn’t need too, but he’s worried too. You’ve been off kilter since he came home, quiet and more to yourself than usual. You spend a lot of time fussing over him, making sure he’s comfortable, asking if he needs pain meds, worrying about how he’s feeling, but he’s fairly sure you’re using it to cover up something else that’s going on with you, something murky that’s brewing in your mind.

Johnny frowns, like he’s had a thought, and then motions to the bathroom. Simon counts the minutes in his head.

It's been a bit too long.

They push the door open, expecting to find it full of steam, the room usually too warm and fogged over from your showers, the scalding temperature that you prefer your water to be enough to peel the skin from their bones if they stood beneath it too long.

Instead, the bathroom is cold. Clinical. Unwelcoming.

They can see you, beyond the blur of the glass shower door, sitting on the ground, knees to your chin. Your hair is wet, even though it’s not close to being a wash day, that fact alone sending unease prickling up his spine, and he rips the shower door open as soon as he crosses, hobbles, across the room on the crutch.

“Darling?” He calls, looking down at where you sit against the tile.

You sigh. Long, loud. Heavy.

“Yeah.” You whisper and Johnny reaches inside, hand under the water as he chokes on his breath, the temperature cold enough to startle him.

“Bleedin’ christ.” He hisses and reaches past Simon to twist the knobs to off. When you don’t move, don’t look up at them, Simon feels his heart crack. What is going on with you?

“Get a towel.” He instructs, while leaning over, still supporting his weight on the crutch, and grabbing you by your upper arm. “Come on darling, up you get.” You don’t fight, your body near lifeless as he pulls you to stand, and then drags you closer, nestling you against his chest.

“Your stitches.” You mumble a protest into his skin, while Johnny drapes a towel around your shoulders. “We’re not worried about my stitches right now, love.” He strokes your cheek, smoothing a thumb under your eye while you avoid looking at either of them. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” You mutter.

“You were sitting in an ice-cold shower.” Johnny counters, and you shrug.

Avoidance. Nerves tighten in Simon’s gut.

“And yer hair is wet.” He murmurs, rubbing behind your neck, soft little circles meant to relax you, while Johnny works another towel on your ends, before drying you off below the waist. When you don’t say anything, he feels his composure start to fall apart. “Darling, please, tell us what’s going on. You’ve been like this for over a week. We’re worried, we’re-“

“Married?” you cut him off and he jerks back in surprise.

“Who told you that?” He keeps his voice very even, very calm. No wonder you’ve been so shut down. He’s going to kill Price. He’s going to kill Gaz.

He’s momentarily distracted by his anger, it’s gnawing rage building in the back of his throat, that he almost doesn’t recognize Johnny’s voice when he croaks;

“I did.”

“Should ‘ave told me, darling.” They’ve finally convinced you to lay down with them, mid conversation, so they can hold you while they talk. It helps quiet some of the shrieking in Simon’s head, some of the panic and fear that’s running under the surface of the river that rips through him in this moment.

“It felt… wrong. To be so worried about it, when Simon was in the hospital.” You sniffle, and Johnny shushes you, trying to soothe the frazzled tears that leak from your eyes. Simon watches warily from the opposite side.

“We’re not married.” He tells you, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, where it certainly will not stay. “But the 141, and it’s bosses, thinks we are. We don’t correct them.” Your face twists up in confusion, and he sighs. “The base, that we fly in and out of… we have a room there. Sometimes we have to stay a day, or two, for after action reports. We don’t like to be separated so Price has worked it out so we can share.”

“The only way that can happen is if we’re married…” Johnny supplies, trying to be helpful, but Simon can see how your face clouds. How it darkens, and the anxiety, the confusion mars it.

“Which we’re not. But Price helps us, has made it so his boss, and others, think we’re married, so we can stay together.”

“We’re next of kin, on each other’s papers as well. It all allows us privileges, like at hospital.” Johnny tries to explain, bringing it back to the earlier admission, when he explained how he had told the surgeon they were married, and he was next of kin if any decisions needed to be made.

“So, pretty much you are married. Just without the certificate.” Simon winces.

“No, love. It’s not like that, it’s-“

“Everyone thinks you’re married. Their perception is reality when you’re at work. Or anywhere else... and you’re each other’s next of kin.”

“No.” Simon vows, but it doesn’t matter, you’re already pushing away, working yourself free from the tangle of them, shimmying off the bed. “Wait, listen-“

“No.” you repeat his denial back to him, and they both watch wordlessly as you yank a t shirt over your head, before sliding on a pair of leggings and slipping into sandals.

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t know. Out. For a walk… I can’t be here right now.”

“Stop.” Johnny pleads. “Stop, please. Just let us explain.”

“I think you have.” You quip over your shoulder. Simon’s out of bed now too, hot on your heels but you’re too fast for him on the crutch, and you’re already at the front door by the time he’s reaching for you.

“Darling.” He breathes, and when you turn, he sees the pain in your eyes, the fractured sense of security, the shattering of your heart, that one thing that they were supposed to keep whole. The thing they were supposed to protect.

Johnny calls your name from a few meters behind him, pleading. "Darling, please, don't run from us."

“I need some air.” You whisper it to your feet, and then before either of them can say anything else, the front door is slamming in his face.

“Fuck!” He shouts, at nothing. At the ceiling. At their own stupidity. “Fuck.”

It’s the twitching, that has Simon’s eyes opening wide in the middle of the night. He can feel your body, restless, rocking against him, your breathing sharp and hurried. He knows what it is within a second, knows what monster has crawled into their bed and invaded your dreams. A nightmare. A symbol of the true state of your mind slipping through the cracks of your subconscious. It’s a barometer, and his heart sinks a little while he shakes his sleepy eyes open. “Darling.” He whispers, smoothing a hand past your cheek to stroke some of your hair. Johnny sleeps soundly, still cradling you from behind, unmoved by your shuddering. He sleeps like a rock when home, safe and sound, comforted by the knowledge that all three of you are together. Simon usually gets close to that sense of safety, that feeling of security, but the vigilance, the undercurrent of fear, still simmers in his blood. It always will, if you and Johnny are around. It is the price of being in love, he supposes.

The price of having it all, comes with the fear of losing everything.

However, it comes in handy, in moments like these, when you’re trapped in your own dreams, trapped inside your own head.

You whimper, the noise twisted and scared, and he tightens his grip, not firm enough to hurt, but enough to hold you still while you lurch.

“Wake up, love. C’mon.” He speaks a little louder now, enough to wake Johnny, who flinches in his sleep before blinking his eyes wide. Simon watches how his free arm tenses, like he means to swing, before relaxing his muscles and meeting Simon’s gaze.

You cry, a dismayed sob reverberating through the two of them, and Johnny wraps his arm around Simon’s back, sandwiching you beneath them tightly. You pant against Simon’s skin, and he uses the hand that’s snug between your spine and Johnny’s chest to rub your back, easing you as gently as possible, while Johnny whispers above your ear.

“You’re alright, darling. You’re okay. You’re home, with us. Right here.” You’re still crying, still asleep, and Johnny frowns. Usually once you’re pressed between them, your nervous system soothes itself, and you wake easily. A little distressed at times, but not crying or thrashing like you are when the nightmares begin.

“Shhh.” Simon tries, and he squeezes the nape of your neck, not hard, but firmly, enough to apply pressure at the base of your skull. It’s worked in the past, when you’ve been lost in a night terror, or awake but too deep in your mind, entrenched in your own horrors, stuck in the dark cycles of your own brain. The pressure is effective, and he’s not sure why, but it settles you easily in most moments, grounding you, bringing you back to them. Where you belong.

It does the trick. You’re blinking awake in the next moment, face foggy with sleep, eyes heavy and confused.

“There she is.” Johnny hums, and you take a deep breath, trying to fill your lungs with as much air as possible. “That’s it. Just breathe.”

“S-sorry.” You weep, voice wet and syrupy, sticky with your pain, with whatever hell was filling your dreams.

“It’s alright.” Simon assures you Johnny shifts, moving to sit up, and your hand grasps for him wildly, seeking his touch. When he grabs it, you settle, and he rubs a thumb across your knuckles.

“Chamomile?” He asks you gently, and you nod into Simon. “Be right back.” He brushes a sweet kiss across your cheek, and then onto Simon’s before sliding out of the bed while you sigh forcefully.

“Want to tell me?” Simon tries to probe, without pushing you too hard. You’re still half asleep, so when you give him a wispy no, he doesn’t push. There’ll be plenty of time later. “Okay darling, that’s alright.” He assures, and your eyes slowly slip closed while he lays there, not moving a single muscle.

The kitchen light flicks on, and Simon blinks to adjust before the dimmer switch is lowered, the light echo of your tip toes sliding across the floor to where he sits at the counter, hunched over a lukewarm cup of tea.

“Can’t sleep?” you hoist yourself onto the stool next to him, Johnny’s t shirt just coving your hips, hair twirled up like you’ve been in a wind tunnel. “Or bad dream?”

“Can’t sleep.” He answers, and you make a sympathetic noise in your throat while you touch his mug.

“Want me to make you a fresh one?”

“No, that’s alright darling. You can go back to bed.” He knows you must be bone tired, between the last few days since they’ve been home and the two weeks before that, when they were gone, you haven’t been getting much sleep.

“Can’t sleep either.” You whisper in the dark, words glum. He glances at the clock. 0207.

“You need your rest.” He tries to encourage, and can make out the squint of glare on your face.

“So do you.”

“Aye, the two of ‘e need your rest.” Johnny quips from the hall, and you turn to see him padding towards the kitchen, pajama pants slung low on his hips. He settles between your bodies, pressing against each outward thigh, before sighing, and resting his head on Simon’s shoulder. “Just leaving me in bed all alone then?” He pulls your hand into his, brushing his lips across your skin and clucking his tongue with sympathy. “How about we all lay on the couch?” Simon perks up a bit at that, knowing that having something on the television will ultimately lull him back to sleep, and probably you as well.

“Okay.” You agree, hopping off the stool and practically into Johnny before dragging him towards the living room. “But, I pick.”

“You picked earlier.” Johnny huffs and Simon rolls his eyes.

“’s true love, you did pick earlier.” You grumble something under your breath while you get situated on the couch, flexing yourself between him and Johnny, bending and stretching until you’re comfortable, and sandwiched, against them as always. Your face nestles in Johnny’s neck while he flick through the options, and Simon strokes a hand lovingly over your hip.

“This is nice.” You whisper, and he’s not sure if you’re speaking to him, or Johnny, or just yourself. He’s not sure if you’re talking about being together on the couch, or being together after they’ve returned home, or just being together as the three of you are, in life. In everything.

He agrees anyway.

“Yes, darling. It is.”

It’s still raining, when the morning comes. It’s something you note, miserably, when your eyes blink open and you realize the bed is empty, nearly cold on both sides.

It’s still raining, and the bed is empty.

Your head feels heavy, tired, from your restless sleep, exasperated from the nightmare, a small headache beginning to bloom and spread behind your eyes. Great.

You roll, burrowing into a pillow, breathing the scent left on the sheets as deeply as possible before the smell of coffee hits your nose, it's caramel, roasted flavor wafting under the door from the kitchen, and your toes practically curl against the sheets.

When the door swings open, you prop yourself up on your elbows to see them both, standing hesitantly near the end of the bed.

“Good… morning?” You leave the end with a question, a wondering, while Johnny steps onto the mattress with his knees and snakes an arm around your waist. He pulls you backwards, into his chest, safe and secure, but still sitting up, and Simon perches on the edge, cup of coffee waiting in his outstretched hand. “Thanks.” He presses it into your grip, and you smile at them, a little anxious. “What uh. What’s up?”

“We wanted to ask you, if you’d be keen on a little field trip.” Johnny nuzzles your neck, mumbling the words into your skin. A field trip?

"We were hoping to bring you on base with us, during this next op.” Simon tries to explain when you frown. Your eyes widen, lips hovering above the coffee.

“To base?” You take a sip and immediately wince, drawing away from the steaming liquid. Simon takes it from you, depositing it on the bed side table before taking your hands in his.

“Yes. We’ve spoke to Price this morning, and he’s agreed to allow you to stay on base, in our room, if you'd like to come along.” On base. Go… on base. And stay in their room. A million emotions circle your heart in a quick pattern. But a few thoughts stand out the most.

They want to bring you with them. They don’t want to leave you behind.

“Okay.” You don’t need to think about it, your answer was already known by everyone in the bedroom. This is the first time they’ve ever offered to bring you to base, to include you in this way, and your heart trills in your chest. “Yeah.” You reaffirm, before a small, hopeful smile tugs at your lips. Simon cups a hand around your knee.

“Unfortunately, this won’t be like a vacation. You’ll have to stay close, and when we’re not with you, you won't be able to leave base.”

“That’s okay… I have my kindle. And I’m sure I’ll have work to do.” Your boss has been pushing you to take more time off anyway, right? You could totally swing this.

“And you can wait, for us to get back if you want.” Johnny follows up, gently. You know he doesn’t really want to talk about how they’re leaving again, and you still haven’t gotten the details.

“Yeah… how long-“

“It will be short.” Simon answers tersely. “Three, four days at the most, that’s why you can stay.” Four days? That’s like, more than short. That’s almost nothing. But Johnny nods against you, and you don’t question it. It’s not really your place, and you try not to pry regarding the ops.

“It’ll be nice, havin’ you in the hangar when we land.” Johnny murmurs and your skin heats, realizing you’ll get to be there to say goodbye and welcome back.

You’re silent, while you consider it, and the implications, something about this invitation soothing the wildness in your heart, like a balm to the wound that’s been bleeding out inside of you.

“Darling?” Simon finally rumbles, after you sat in silence for probably too long, and you nod.

“I’m here.”

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macfrog · 10 months

Text

wish you were here | one shot

thank you lovely anon for this gorgeous request which felt like a huge mug of hot chocolate and a pair of socks fresh from the dryer to write. i hope you enjoy.

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

summary: you and joel skip jackson’s annual holiday party in favor of some alone time. (not that kind you filthy animals it’s the HOLIDAYS)

warnings: fluff lmao, thirty-year age gap and u can stay mad, set around the holidays but no mention of christmas etc, nothing but love and two hints of sex. that's all. oh and no guitars were harmed in the making of this - joel canonically goes and gets the guitar after the fic ends. dw.

word count: 1.9k

main masterlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🤎

Jackson is alive with a thrumming heartbeat. Pulsing through the air, bumping gently against the quick-lying snow and filling the otherwise silent night. A steady, rhythmic heartbeat.

A heartbeat which sounds a lot like Blue Monday, but a heartbeat nonetheless.

The holiday party is in full swing down in the Tipsy Bison. Seven o’clock ‘til late! on flyers plastered all over the commune for the last month. Tommy had tried relentlessly to convince Joel this morning on patrol – It’ll be a good night; You oughta come along, show face at least. At the same time, Maria was on your back about it in the stables.

Y’all hardly come to anything fun, she’d argued.

We come to stuff.

When’s the last time you came to anythin’?

We were – we were at Mike’s birthday dinner.

What – five months ago?

We like alone time.

Alone time? You’re never apart from one another.

Alone time – together.

Neither attempt had been successful. Tommy and Maria had exchanged a disheartened glance as the two brothers passed their horses to you on their return. Joel clipped your cheek, took his gloves off and fixed them onto your frozen hands before making off for home, a proud grin on his face. You’d held your own as well as he had: you two had a clear evening ahead.

He had lit and nurtured a fire, had made himself a coffee and heaped half a damn bag of tiny marshmallows into a hot chocolate for you, but when he’d come through to take his place on the couch, you were already stood out front.

It’s bitter out – a soft breeze, but a thick chill on its wings. The sky a washed gray, heavy clouds overhead. He slips outside, setting the mugs down on the table, and slings a blanket over your shoulders. Kisses the curve of your neck, scruff of his beard tickling your skin.

‘s freezing, pretty bird.

Then keep me warm, you whisper, turning into his arms. He steps back, settling into his chair, flicking his fingers for you to fall down into his wide lap.

You curl up against his torso, your head hooked beneath his jaw. Wonder how drunk Tommy is by now. What is it – nine?

His wrist lifts, moonlight gleaming in the reflection of his broken watch face. Just gone ten. I bet he’s on his ass already.

You giggle into his shirt, breathing in the scent of the pine trees, the smoke from stoking the fire inside, the bite of hot coffee. The echo of voices swelling in merry song turns your attention down the street – two figures hooked onto one another, stumbling through the powdered snow. Some slurred rendition of September melting into All Night Long before the smaller of the two tugs their partner off into a darkened house.

Joel laughs to himself, the bristle of his beard catching on your hair as he shakes his head.

You ask him softly, Will you play me something?

His breath soars, a cloud hot and pale white, past your temple and up into the pastel sky. Gets swallowed somewhere overhead by the wash of warmth from the porch light. He turns his mug until the owl faces the street, the bottom gnawing against the wooden armrest of his chair.

I’m serious.

What do you wanna hear?

That one you’re always practicin’. The plucking one.

Another rumble between your shoulder blades. His chest jolts with a solid laugh. The pluckin’ one.

You know the one.

I know the one.

Will you play it, if I go get the guitar?

Baby, his lungs nudge on your back as they fill, it’s late. We’ll wake the neighbors.

Everyone’s at the dance. C’mon.

And he can’t argue with that. The entire street lies dark, vacant. Yours is the only house with soft-glowing eyes, the muted orange of the fire flickering behind closed blinds. Two figures, tangled in a chair on the dim front porch; a hunting jacket around his shoulders, and his body around yours.

You tug on the blanket, wrapping it around your elbows as you stand. Just once. Play me it once.

Joel’s looking up at you, setting his mug down on the table. Play you it as many times as you want, pretty bird. Just – quietly.

There’s a spring in your step that drags another chuckle from Joel’s lips: the kind that drips like honey down your throat and warms the pit of your stomach – a sweet, comforting thing, a sound you swear was made purposefully for you. Divine and deliberate.

Like – all of him. Like the shape of your name in his mouth, the curl of his tongue as the sound surfs over it. Like the curve of his hand and the way yours so neatly molds into it.

The way it did the day he found you, crouched in the gray backroom of some butchers deep in the city, and took you all the way back to Jackson. Let you cling to him on the back of his horse; your weak arms around his waist, anchored by the heavy jacket he’d thrown over your back. Your ear between his shoulder blades. And that was that.

Fifty-six. One brown-turned-silver hair away from thirty years your senior. He still remembers before. Talks about movies, talks about computers. Talks about Sarah, when the sun hits the wall at a certain angle and he reckons he could see her standing right there, the soft shadow of her hair dark against the golden wall. When you make a joke and he laughs a ghostly sort of laugh, like he’s hearing the echo of her voice make the same quip three decades ago. He always says she would’ve loved you; you like to think he’s right.

He found you: a lonely little broken heart, and he pulled you to your feet with a rough palm against your own. Hands calloused only from years spent carving wood and pressing the hard strings of his guitar into the fretboard, and nothing else. No violence and no bloodshed; no survival or threat. Music, and patience, and kindness.

And maybe you found him, too, in the same sort of way: roughened up, awkward and messy stitches holding him together. Maybe the two of you nursed one another back to life; each brush of your hands in the dining hall and each meaningful glance while out on patrol sewing those wounds up a little tighter, a little safer.

He sits forward when you hold the instrument out, sweeping a broad palm down the slope of the body. Pinches the pegs one by one, twisting them while his thumb taps on each string.

Come here, he says, beckoning you forward with a flick of his chin. He taps on the seam of his jeans, widens his legs for you to curl up between them at his feet – the way you always do.

Your elbows hook over his thigh, ear pressed against the inside of his knee. Staring up, blinking slowly, eyes glazed with the cold and with the light and with love.

He plucks gently, slow at first. Letting the strings snap with a twang, vibrating enough that you feel the small rattle in your jaw. Your eyes fall closed, head rocking with the light tap of his heel on the porch. When you peer at him through your lashes, he’s watching the skilled movements of his fingers intently; as if he’s as much a spectator as you are – his body doing all of the thinking and working for him.

So, he sings, and your stomach melts to a puddle, so you think you can tell –

Your eyes close again, the low rumble of his voice crisp in your ears. Like thunder, like the promise of something great and mighty. Something moving, something rolling and changing the landscape of your body, your mind and your soul. The lines between living and dying begin to blur, the seam tearing between this plain and the next.

Did they get you to trade – your lips parting to whisper the words with him – your heroes for ghosts?

His thumbnail dragging down the strings, his strong fingers flitting between chords. Like he was made to sit here, in the dead of night, and carve a space in the world for himself and his voice and for you – lain in the safe scope of his body, protected by his breadth and brawn and lulled by his sweet song.

His breadth and brawn – the parts of him which have kept him standing here. His skeleton, his muscle. But the thing that keeps you warm at night, buried side by side under a threadbare woolen sheet together, the thing that you link your arms around as he leads you home from the nights you dare to visit the Tipsy Bison: are his heart, his flesh, the gray-singed hair which falls in a featherlight wave over his forehead. The hair you sweep from his eyes when he’s on top of you, his hips cradled in yours, that all-encompassing feeling of every part of him filling every part of you.

It all feels that way. The warmth of him, the feeling of being wrapped around him. Hooked around his body, bones intertwined. Absorbing one another, his words breathing life into yours, slowly growing louder and braver with each pluck and strum of music.

We’re just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year.

Your makeups entangling, ribcages locking together, flesh meeting flesh and hair twisting until one day, Tommy will come looking for his brother and find the two of you here on your porch, your arms still draped over Joel’s thigh and his fingers still mid-song. Stuck, alone, together.

What have we found? Joel looks down to you as though asking the question – his eyebrows raised – and you reply, a dumb smile across your lips, The same old fears, and then, together –

Wish you were here.

He plays until his fingers must start to hurt, the way he clenches and loosens his fist. Setting the guitar against your chair, hands hooking under your arms to pull you back up to him.

That one your favorite? he asks, the cold tip of his nose circling yours.

You nod. Only when you sing it.

I like the way we sound together.

You smile, shrinking into his chest again, your fingers surfing back and forth on the worn shirt. I like the way we do a lot of things together.

His hands slip beneath the fabric of your shirt, massaging your waist. He dots a trail of light, damp kisses along your forehead, dipping to your temple, the angle of your cheek until your jaw lifts and his lips are against yours, his tongue parting to lick purposefully at yours.

I love you, pretty bird, he whispers, the words falling sweet and fair on your tongue.

You take a moment to let them seep into your skin. ‘s the first time you’ve ever said that, you tell him.

Joel smiles. He knows. But you knew it already, he counters.

You know, too. Mhm.

Alright, he groans, slipping his hands under your thighs and hoisting you up to his height, bedtime.

It’s only ten, you complain, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders as he carries you inside. It’s too early to sleep – Joel.

Didn’t say we were goin’ to sleep, he mumbles, kicking the door shut.

#happy max monday is this becoming a thing? can i claim mondays? boomtown rats move the fuck over #i just wanted to sit between joel miller's legs and look up at him all dumb and in love ok?#joel miller #joel miller fic #the last of us #tlou fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller one shot #jackson!joel #joel miller fluff

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akumakosuke · 5 months

Text

†Our cursed love†

★Chapter two- Your infinity.★

{soooo I finally wrote another damn chapter! Yay! Motivation is a very hard thing to come across but I have so many fucking ideas and a bit of motivation so I'll be updating hopefully every week or two}

No warnings just fluffy fluff

~Three years later ~

Somewhere…

The sky is dark. The seemingly endless void of inky blackness only outshined by the brilliance of the full moon and the countless twinkling stars accompanying her. The calm, serene silence of the night and low whispers of the gentle breeze, rustling of the unkept grass at the border of the Gojo property, rhythmic chirps and noises from the creatures that call the moonlight home, makes for a perfect night…

Two young, lonely souls meet atop a hill, both guided to each other by an unexplainable pull. Two young Gods under the night sky, unaware of how they’re slowly falling.

“Hurry up idiot! We don’t have all night!” A 13 year old Satoru spoke with annoyance as he runs ahead of his best friend.

“Geez, I’m coming! Why do have to run huh!?” Questions an equally annoyed M/n, having to speed up to keep up with the energetic Satoru.

The two boys soon start running at the same pace, the wind whipping against their faces, making their hair dance with the breeze. Wide, carefree grins adorn their faces as the run turns into a race.

The still night air is soon interrupted by joyous laughter, so pure, so happy.

M/n speeds up, overtaking Satoru, he turns back to look at his counterpart with a smug grin.

“Too slow Satoru~” he teases, sticking out his tongue.

Satoru scowls and speeds up, easily catching up.

“Slow? Who me? You’re the slow one M/n, try to keep up~”

Satoru ahead, leaving M/n in the dust as he heads to the tree on top of the hill. He runs and runs, the crisp air filling his lungs, his feet making no sound as he steps. He can’t hear M/n but he knows he’ll show up soon so he can’t slow down.

He finally gets to the tree, yelling victoriously. He turns around, expecting to see the defeated face of M/n but he sees nothing. No M/n. He frowns, crossing his arms over his chest. He couldn’t be that far behind right?

Satoru tries to sense his cursed energy but unfortunately M/n has been training to hide his presence completely and apparently he’s gotten really good at it. Not even his six eyes can find him, Satoru really needs to train more.

He sighs, brilliant blue eyes that shine as bright as the moon scanning the fields. He quickly spins around, hearing a faint sound in the tree. His eyes examine the treetop, a playful smirk etched on his face.

“Oh so you want to play games my dear, M/n? Alright I’ll play your little game.” He muttered playfully as he slowly approached the tree, his six eyes active, using this as an opportunity to hone his skills.

As expected he gets no reply. He chuckles softly, his heart beating faster, excitement buzzing in every bone. He hears another rustle making him snap his head in that direction. He hums softly.

“You’re bad at hiding, you should just give up now.” He jests, hoping to rile M/n up and make him make a mistake. He stands directly beneath the tree, looking directly up into the foliage, thin streams of soft moonlight poking through the leaves but no M/n.

“Boo…”

Satoru freezes, his heart leaping out of his chest when he hears that soft voice behind him. When he feels his warm breath fanning his ear, when he finally senses that familiar presence.

M/n’s voice is as soft as the breeze and Satoru becomes hyper aware of their proximity causing a blush to creep up on his face.

He spins around and striking blue orbs clash with bright crimson ones and like every time the world seems to come to a stand still, everything fades into background noise and he finds himself drowning, like the air was stolen from his lungs.

M/n smirks, relishing in that dumbfounded expression he’s come to like so much. He loves catching Satoru off guard, slipping past the infamous six eyes. He notices the blush, confused at first but then it dawns on him how close they are. His heart speeds up, his breathing coming to a stop and he finds himself drowning, like the air was stolen from his lungs.

~M/n POV~

‘What’s happening to me? I feel frozen, like time stopped entirely. Why is my heart beating so fast?’ My thoughts race as we have a staring contest, neither of us saying a word.

Normally I would be able to read Satoru like an open book but I can’t read him now. That’s not his normal annoyed or shocked look. What is he thinking? Why isn’t he saying anything?

~Satoru POV~

‘My heart feels like it’s going to explode. His gaze, why does his gaze make me feel like this… this warm fuzzy feeling in my chest. When I’m near him it’s like my senses are dulled, like everything else becomes a blur… what is this?’

I feel goosebumps forming on my skin and I don’t think it’s because of the breeze. My heart pounds in my chest like a drum and I finally snap out of my daze and quickly turn away with a very awkward laugh causing M/n to do the same.

This has been happening more often, both of us just getting lost in each other’s gaze but we never address it. We just laugh and move on. I sometimes wish he didn’t move on, I sometimes wish we would address it but it’s probably nothing really.

~3rd POV~

M/n shoves Satoru’s shoulder, the awkwardness quickly dissipating into the blissful calm of the night.

“Come on, we don’t have all night.” M/n says as he walks to their spot on the hill and sits down in the grass.

Satoru glares at him playfully, making a mental note to get back at him for the push, but also mentally scolding himself for getting distracted. He approaches M/n and settles down beside him,

They both lay down, nestled in the soft embrace of nature. The grass is cool, their backs supported by the earth beneath them. They both gaze up at the celestial canopy that seems to stretch infinitely, adorned with a myriad of twinkling stars that paint the night sky with their radiant glow.

They settle into a comfortable silence, simply enjoying each other’s presence. A calm retreat, a break from the busyness of their lives. In this moment they forget their destiny’s and simply exist. Their curious eyes trace the constellations that have adorned the sky for eons, they seem so small and insignificant compared to them but they known how significant they are, as significant as the stars themselves.

Like the stars they will both be shining beacons of hope, hope for humanity, hope for sorcerers.

“My father increased my training today, it was exhausting.” M/n’s whispers, his soft voice carrying a tiredness no 13 year old should have.

“Really? Again? Didn’t he increase it last week?” Satoru asks, his sympathetic voice providing a sense of comfort for M/n because Satoru understands.

“Yeah, he says I need to be stronger to face the evils of the world. He’s always going on about how special I am, how strong I can be. My potential. It’s annoying.” M/n’s tired voice has a bitter edge, the deep resentment he has for his father shining through.

M/n has never had the best relationship with his father and Satoru knows everything in great detail. He knows what a harsh man (f/n) Goto can be. He trains M/n to the point of collapse every day, claiming to be doing this for his own good.

“I’m sorry.” Satoru whispers, turning his head to gaze at M/n. He doesn’t need to say anything else, those two words spoken with such understanding and sincerity nothing else needs to be said. M/n knows he means it wholeheartedly.

M/n turns to gaze at Satoru, a grateful smile on his face. All the tension leaving his body when he gazes at those eyes. “It’s fine, I’ll get through it. How’s your training, I’ve noticed you using your infinity more often.”

Satoru smiles. “I’ve been learning how to keep his active for more than a few hours, I can manage it for around 3 hours without breaks. You should have seen my mother the first time I did it, she told everyone in the clan.”

M/n scoffs. “Of course she told everyone. You’re her little miracle after all.”

“Hey, I am a miracle and three hours is a long time, it still makes me exhausted.”

“Well mister miracle, I never said that it wasn’t impressive, it actually is.”

“Mister miracle? Really?” Satoru asks with a deadpan expression that soon breaks as he starts laughing at the ridiculous nickname.

Satoru’s laughter is contagious, making M/n burst into laughter as well. Both their laughs blending together in the purest of sounds, a symphony of joy.

Their fit of laughter slowly dies down, the echoes carried off by the breeze.

“You are terrible at nicknames M/n.”

“What? Would you prefer if I called you something else? Like Gogo, or jojo, maybe Jogo! Nah, Jogo sounds stupid.”

“Firstly no, secondly why are they all my last name?”

“Alright fine~ and they’re all your second name because I like your first name just the way it is, it’s perfect!”

Satoru looks at M/n like a deer caught in headlights, not expecting that. It’s stupid, those words don’t really mean anything yet they make his heart skip a beat. Perfect, his name is perfect…

M/n gets confused by the blank stare and silence, raising an eyebrow. He tries to tap Satoru on the shoulder but is stopped by a force. He frowns, looking down at his hand that’s mere inches away from Satoru but will never reach. Infinity.

“Oi, why is your infinity on? We aren’t supposed to use our techniques tonight. You’re gonna exhaust yourself and leave me to carry you all the way home… again.” M/n said in an annoyed tone, sitting up and crossing his arms over his chest.

Satoru also sits up, quickly pulled out of his fantasy. He smiles sheepishly, looking down to avoid M/n’s gaze. “Ah… well i just wanted to see if I can do it subconsciously… it is actually taking a lot out of me… even my six eyes is draining…” he mumbles nervously, knowing how M/n gets when he pushes himself too much.

M/n’s frown deepens, he scans Satoru from head to toe, noting how his infinity is still up, seeing the slight bags under his eyes, he was also running slower than usual. He didn’t even bring his glasses, he always forgets his glasses.

M/n doesn’t like Satoru’s infinity, when it’s on he feels like the gap between them suddenly grows and Satoru is out of reach, untouchable. M/n feels a spark deep within his soul, that same pull he felt when they first met. That voice in the back of his head, the one that told him to turn around, it’s telling him to reach out.

A part of him is telling him the gap between them isn’t as big as he thinks. All he has to do is reach out. M/n knows he can bypass Satoru’s infinity, it’s part of his inherited cursed technique. The Gojo and Goto clans are intertwined, and have been since the Golden age. They are extremely similar, both techniques bending reality in some way.

M/n knows of the technique to bypass Satoru’s infinity but he’s never been able to use it, he’s tried but alway failed because it’s too much of a strain on his eyes, his eyes like Satoru is an integral part of his clan. His eyes help control his inherited technique, without the Atomeye he could never hope to control his cursed technique. The cursed technique he’s been struggling with, Distortion.

M/n can distort the laws of physics, permitting the user to violate any physical law displaced in the universe. Everything that composes physics including space and time. Satoru’s infinity doesn’t actually stop things, it slows them infinitely, M/n can distort the space and time around himself, creating a barrier of complete nonexistent, nothing can pass this barrier because nothing can exist within it, not even Satoru’s infinity.

M/n takes a deep breath, concentrating his cursed energy into his hand, by focusing on one part of his body he could maybe sustain the technique for a while. He focuses on the feeling of non-existence, clearing his mind of all thoughts. He slowly reaches out, his movements slow and unsure.

Will he be stopped again? Is the gap between them only growing larger? Just a year ago they were on the same level. Now it feels like he can’t catch up. He can’t fall behind. He can’t be left behind. Not even infinity can stop him.

Satoru freezes when he feels a gentle hand on his shoulder. The touch feels like fire in his veins, it burns with an indescribable warmth, making his skin prickle with goosebumps. He is absolutely sure he had his infinity up, he was using it. Nothing can get past his infinity, only-

“Satoru…”

Satoru slowly turns his head towards M/n. That soft, gentle purr of his name compelling him, drawing him in. Like a damn sirens call and he’s helpless, unable to resist.

M/n forced himself to steady his voice, trying not to react when his technique finally works.

Their eyes meet and Satoru can feel his infinity slipping, exhaustion slowly creeping up on him and the way M/n looks at him isn’t helping. That soft look in his eyes that tells him he’s safe, that he can relax. It always manages to disarm him.

“Turn it off.”

Satoru finds himself nodding, offering no resistance as he turns his infinity off. His eyes slowly start to droop, a yawn escaping his lips without his consent. He doesn’t want M/n to know how exhausted he is and he doesn’t want to fall asleep when this is the only time they have together.

M/n sighs softly, turning his own technique off. He can tell how tired Satoru is so he won’t pester him with a lecture. Instead he slowly pushes Satoru back down on the grass, lying back down beside him. Satoru once again offers no resistance and quickly succumbs to his exhaustion.

He didn’t realise how tired he was until now. Satoru’s eyes flutter closed and he unconsciously scoots closer to M/n, craving his warmth. He lays his head on M/n’s shoulder, draping one arm over his chest, curling up to his side.

M/n’s breath hitches in his throat and he looks down at Satoru with wide eyes. His heart thumps wildly in his chest it feels like it’s going to explode. He tenses up slightly, his arms hovering awkwardly in the air because he doesn’t know what to do, this is the first time this happened.

The longer M/n stares at Satoru’s peaceful expression the more relaxed he becomes. His arms slowly lower, one wrapping around Satoru’s waist and the other under his head. His heart calms down and he sighs, feeling the gap between them disappear.

M/n knows they can’t stay out here for long, both of them having to be home before anyone figures out they’re gone in the first place but he can’t bring himself to disturb Satoru and he’s also a bit tired himself. His eyes slowly flutter closed and he allows sleep to overtake him.

Two God’s lay atop a hill, wrapped in each other’s comforting embrace. The infinity between them now non-existent. They slumber under the moons watchful gaze, separated from the complexities of their existence, shielded from reality even if just for a moment.

#malereader #male reader #dom male reader #top male reader #seme male reader #jjk x male reader #jujutsu kaisen #suguru geto x male reader #satoru gojo x male reader #gojo satoru #geto suguru #†ourcursedlove†

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luvtak · 6 months

Text

corona borealis, lfx

✧ genre/tw rambly soul-crushing fluff, one sweet kiss!!, lovely as a pet-name, felix being an undeniably sweet bf like always and hearing a bedtime story <3 , largely unedited.

✧ w/c 952 <3

✧ a/n definitely not brought on by asea felix are you kidding... he's so lovely i just had to dawdle on about it somewhere so here you go! also, the thought of telling lix a bedtime story makes me wanna cry i hope i'm not alone. mwah!!

His arm is hot around you, keeping you safe from the scary silhouettes the shadows bring, and the night is breathing. A group of you had come to this little campground for a night away from the city lights, and while the two of you are alone you can still hear the rest of the boy’s nighttime sounds mixing in with crickets and critters.

Your boyfriend stands beside you, listening intently as you tell him stories of the stars. Usually, these tales come from the comfort of your bed–rustling under covers and speaking into his mouth, sharing breath and love until you fall asleep, tracing false shapes in the plastic stars adorning your ceiling. But tonight, under the cover of a too cold darkness you tell him his bedtime stories beneath the sky.

His face is tilted up, looking to see where your fingers are pointing, and the soft glint in his midnight eyes makes you pause. You’ve never known someone who looked so alive, someone with a sun for a soul. Felix has the brightest smile you’ve ever seen, alight with joy and senseless mischief–eyes wide with wonder at the constellations rising above him.

Looking at him is dizzying; that feeling when you put your arms out and spin so fast you fall, a carousel going so round and round. You feel like flying, rising up like the moment Icarus’ wings took him up and away.

Sometimes you wonder if it’s normal to feel like this… if everyone in love feels as though they are the creator, the inventor of such depraved desire and compassion for another. Surely, you must be the first–no one else had felt Felix’s fingertips on their skin or his lips sweetly drinking them in. How could someone say they’ve encountered a deeper love than this when your sweetheart is the embodiment of love, Venus as a boy.

He turns to you in your moment of hesitation, smiling at you with all the care in the world. He loves you endlessly, burns for you and the soft caress of your affection. You can tell he doesn’t know why you stopped speaking, but he’s happy just the same–sharing your space and time, living in this moment with you. He remembers the first time you told him a story, speaking the words softly, he thinks he fell in love right there.

“What’s that one?” he asks, catching your still raised hand in his own.

“Oh, it's a crown, see?” you can see his eyes tracing the points, finding the shape that connects the points together. “It’s Ariadne’s wedding tiara, she was a princess of Crete who helped Theseus slay her brother the Minotaur Asterion. After they escaped the labyrinth, the prince left her on the Island of Naxos where she was found by Dionysus,”

“He left her there?!” he gasps, your sweet boy forever confused by ill intentions, even in a story.

“Yeah, he’s so lame, right? Anyway, after the God finds her on his island they fall in love and eventually marry… the crown was her wedding present, and after she died Dionysus flung it into the sky to honor her.”

Felix is quiet for a long time after this, inhaling the story with all the deference you deserve. After every narrative he takes his time to think about how he feels about it: the first time you finished a movie with him and he was quiet for fifteen minutes before he told you he liked it, he is like that now. Quietly staring at the sky, not ignoring you for his hand still made its path up and down your arm and you know if you called his name he’d answer, but you don’t want to interrupt his silent seeking.

His life is noisy, spirited, and wonderful in all the ways a beautiful boy like him creates, your infatuation came in chaos–in mindless chatter and kitchen counter dance parties, but you fell in love in silence. In the moments when the world was quiet and all you could hear was his heartbeat, the drawling intake of his lungs filling and releasing. You adore his voice, but just existing with him, sharing the same air would be lovely enough for a lifetime.

Finally, after minutes of staring ahead, he speaks–softly but with no less intensity,

“If something were to happen to you I would make you into a constellation.”

His eyes, bright with longing stare into yours, and you know he’s not being funny. He means it with all of him, means it with every atom of his being.

Shocked and in love with him you laugh, bursting with fondness never hidden. “I love you too,” you say, for you know that's what he means. A love that spills from his veins whenever he thinks of you, so massive and consuming that the words aren’t enough. “I’d make a constellation for you too, it’d be the prettiest one in the whole sky.”

When he moves closer to you, you can feel the smile radiating on his shadowed face–sweeping his grin over the plane of your cheekbones. Scorching your skin where his lips touch, a traveling forest fire of kisses. When his journey ends, sliding his mouth over yours the flames grow, getting taller and taller as his caress goes deeper.

The night is chilly, but there is no need for a coat when his arms are around you–sweeping you into his embrace with only the stars to watch.

“Lets go to bed, lovely” he muttered, breathing through open-mouthed kisses and shared smiles. Leading you to where your tent lies, to where stories and sleep await you–love and life and dreams filled with him, your constellation of a boy.

#felix fluff #felix x reader #felix scenarios #stray kids #skz #stray kids x reader #lee felix x reader #skz x reader #stray kids scenarios #skz imagines #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #lee felix #felix

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politemenacephd · 8 months

Text

A Winter Stroll

Miguel O'Hara x GN!Reader (ft. baby Gabriella)

Short AU where you and Miguel take your baby Gabi for a stroll in the park while its cold. Pure romantic fluff.

Word count: 1992

‘Hey, are you sure she’s covered?’

You glanced up and watched your breath turn to smoke in the air, its haze obscuring the face now glancing down at you from above. You watched it dissipate.

Miguel was staring down at you, his gloved hands manically rubbing against each other as he tried to warm them up.

‘Hmm? You mean Gabi?’

You turned from your beloved partner to what you'd been pushing; a clean, padded purple stroller that you’d only just bought, currently carrying the most precious cargo in the world to you both.

Little Gabi peeked out from beneath her coverings, her big brown eyes blinking against the cold. You instinctively bent down to check on her.

‘Hey, baby girl. You okay?’

You’d decided to take a small break and go on a walk in the local park, just something to get Miguel out and about. He was usually so restless but since Gabi was born he’d been nearly bed bound, utterly fixed to her side. His favourite thing was to spoon you beneath the sheets in your shared bed while facing Gabi’s crib, watching the mobile spin as she gurgled and cooed, holding you all in his grip and never letting go. If he had the chance he’d do that until the end of time.

But you insisted he at least get some movement into his day, and so he’d agreed to this short stroll, not realizing just how chilly it still was.

It was the kind of cold you could smell. When you breathed in through the nose it stung just a little, and all you could really scent was the ice on the grass.

Because of this the park was almost empty, spare for one woman and her dog in the distance, and the trees were bare and dark. The sky was empty and blue, like a still ocean in a timeless void. The world had been coated in a kind of dull, muted sheen, a dreamlike dullness.

Everything was still, quiet, sleeping. The grass crunched underfoot, and your shoes made little echoing clacks on the hard pavement when you walked across it. There was no sound but the single chirping of a robin somewhere nearby.

It was serene, to you, but to Miguel it was a little bit terrifying.

‘Gabi’s fine’ you insisted, gently reaching down to show her. She was utterly bundled in blankets and was wearing her oversized little parka onesie in his favourite shade of purple, and the only thing you could see was her little nose and her big eyes. She was blinking slowly, too young to really see but too curious to sleep.

Miguel curled his lip, his brows knotting against his will. ‘Mm- let me, just, check her again, please? Mi tesoro?’

‘Oh Miggy, you—okay, okay. You check her all you want.’

You graciously stepped aside for him to bend over, and he did, though not before giving your cold nose a quick kiss. You giggled at his insistence.

The moment he got close to Gabi his face lit up. Those old, worn, tired lines seemed to melt away in her presence. He looked so much younger.

With her father now in her line of sight Gabi’s eyes suddenly locked on. She focused in on his face and warbled softly.

‘Hola, mi amor’ he whispered. Gabi garbled a little louder in response.

When he smiled his breath condensed around his bared fangs, a soft white mist that highlighted the pearly sheen of his teeth. You saw the little wrinkles by his eyes when he smiled, the sign of a man who was gleefully exhausted.

‘Ah, mi bebita. ¿Tienes frío?’

Gabi gurgled beneath her pile of blankets. She managed to get one tiny fist free but Miguel immediately tucked it back in, though he did pause to admire how small it looked in his own enormous hand. Her little fist barely covered his thumb.

‘Sweetheart, she can’t talk yet’ you gently reminded him. You bent until you were at the same height, gently easing him away from the object of his obsession. His eyes were wide beneath the stray locks of his hair, big and soft and red.

‘I- I know, that, but—’

‘Mhm. You always say you know, and yet, you just keep doing it.’ You couldn’t help but chuckle at him, and despite his awkwardness he smiled back.

‘I just want to be sure she’s okay’ he whispered. With your smile still straining your cheeks you gently bumped your temple against his.

‘I know. But you know I want that too, right?’

‘Of course, mi tesoro! I wasn’t suggesting otherwise.’

‘Mhm. I know, but, consider, that constantly asking if she’s warm enough, it—’

You held out your hand to prompt him, and he begrudgingly shrugged. ‘It- sounds like I don’t trust you to do a good enough job.’

‘There you go. You know you’re very smart, you should be a scientist maybe. Have you thought about that?’

‘Aha, funny. Diablilla.’

You giggled as he gently clacked his fangs on your cheek.

‘You wanna keep going? We can turn back if you really want, in all honesty I don’t want to freak you out’ you said.

Miguel shook his head. ‘No, no, you’re right. She’s fine. You know best, as always.’

‘Oh my god- you big suck up’ you teasingly chided.

‘Mhm. Happily. The most beautiful creature in the world’ he said, his finger lightly brushing your cheek. You snorted in reply.

‘I don’t know about that. My- nose is running into my scarf, and my hair—’

Your list of complaints was stifled as Miguel put a single finger to your lips, smooshing them shut. With his gaze fixed on your's he then gently pulled up his sleeve and wiped your nose clean.

‘Beautiful’ he repeated, without a shadow of doubt or hesitation.

Despite the cold, you felt your body burning up.

‘Alright, you—come on, let’s go’ you said, trying to cover how coy you’d suddenly gotten. Miguel hid his smug smile at having very much already noticed it.

With his fears now quelled you both pulled back and continued walking, with your hands on the stroller and Miguel’s arm around your waist. He squeezed you tight to his side. Your head was squished against his pec beneath his jacket, and the woven material was soft against your cold skin. You relished the feeling.

‘Do you think it’s likely to snow soon?’ Miguel asked as you rounded the corner to the pond. You noticed that a light sheen of ice was covering the water.

‘Mm- if I had to give an educated guess… Probably?’ You hunched both shoulders as you weight the option with both hands.

‘Mm. I can’t wait till she’s older. It’ll be so nice to take her out when she can enjoy the snow’ Miguel said with a dreamy sigh.

‘Oh my god- I’m sorry, did you just said you can’t wait till she’s older?’

Your scoffing drew Miguel’s eyes back to you. He looked surprised. ‘Hm? Yes. Why, is that, strange?’ he asked.

‘For you? The man who almost cried when she didn’t fit into her very first onesie, the one she was put into when she was born? Yeah, it’s strange.’

‘Hey, don’t be mean. That’s different’ he insisted.

‘No, no it's not. You’re going to lament her getting older at every turn.’

‘Well- that's natural, isn't it? She’s just so- small’ he objected, trying his best to seem stoic while clearly whining. You felt his claws coming out as he squeezed you a little closer. ‘She’s my baby.'

‘And she’ll be your baby whether she’s one month old, or one year old, or thirty years old, or- god, eighty years old, you big soppy idiot’ you lightly teased, raising one hand to grab his thickset jaw. You squished his cheeks with your thumb and fingers and shook him until he chuckled.

‘Okay. Okay. Point taken. But I mean it, it’ll be nice to see if she enjoys the snow’ Miguel said.’

‘Oh it’ll be great. I bet she’ll be a real wild card, I think she’ll like snowball fights. She’ll beat our asses some day.’

‘You think so?’

‘Oh I KNOW so, she’s her father’s daughter. A menace.’

‘Menace? No, not my bebita, she’s itty bitty’ Miguel insisted. You just kept giggling.

‘Mm, no, nope, no, menace. Little menace.’

You bent and gently waved your fingers on Gabi’s cheeks as she cooed, a sound that never failed to melt your heart.

‘Menace’ you repeated affectionately. ‘Our little menace.’

For a little while longer you enjoyed the cold in peace and quiet. You were comfortable being quiet with Mig, or by letting your actions speak for you. Every little bump of your head into his bicep, every squeeze of his hand, each time he silently checked if your nose was close and subsequently kissed it. That was all enough.

But as you rounded towards the end of your walk, that silence ended.

‘Hey, I uh—’

Miguel coughed to catch your attention, drawing you to look at him again. He was avoiding your gaze now, which you found a little odd, with his free hand gently rubbing his jaw.

‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Of course, beautiful man. You go right ahead.’

You returned to watching the pathway ahead as you waited for Miguel to speak. He coughed a second time to pluck up his courage, a sight that was strange for such an imposing man.

‘Ah- can—can we have another one?’ he whispered.

You almost tripped over your own feet in shock.

‘Ah, shit— sweetheart, are you okay?!’ Miguel moved fast to stabilize you that his claws expanded. You shot him an incredulous look.

‘Mig- Miguel, she is three months old!’ you hissed. ‘What do you mean another one?!’

‘I just meant, you’re- you make such beautiful babies’ he whispered, his voice as low as possible while remaining just as intense as if he’d shouted. You felt your whole body tingle at the unexpected softness.

‘And Gabi looks so lonely, you know, she—’ Miguel was stumbling on his words as you put your hands to your hips. ‘You just- beautiful babies, really, just the most- beautiful. She's so perfect. And she looks lonely.’

‘My god, what a compelling argument’ you said drolly, though you could feel yourself already smiling. ‘I don’t know though, it’s been a while. You might be out of practise for making more.’

You savoured the little spark in his eyes, the gleam of red that brightened his gaze. It was an intrinsic curiosity, a deep-rooted hunger for one specific thing.

‘Mhm. Mhm. Well- I’d, have to prove you otherwise then, wouldn’t I?’ he whispered back. You hated how quickly you melted at his husky voice.

‘You would’ you said, leaning in closer. You held him there, with those narrowed eyes and that eager smile, before bringing him down with a gently clap to the chest. ‘You would, if we didn’t have a literal newborn.’

‘Oh, mi tesoro—’

‘Come on dummy, let’s get home’ you said, your voice firm even though you were still smiling. ‘If she falls asleep when we get in, I might be able to make time for a quick shower. You know, to get warm again.’

The way Miguel arched his neck the moment you said ‘shower’ never failed to amuse you. He certainly looked extra large beneath all that padded clothing.

‘Mm… Okay. Deal.’

To your surprise, Miguel then quickly swooped the stroller out of your hands and began pushing Gabi home, all while cooing at her over the rim.

‘Shh, you’re feeling sleepy, aren’t you bebita? ¿Estás cansada? ¿Si?’

As Miguel resorted to singing lullabies you were forced to jog slightly to catch up with him, your panted breath billowing clouds of smoke around your flustered face.

Sadly, while Miguel did get that shower, you were both too cold to indulge in anything but huddling together like sad penguins, and jealously hogging the water as much as you could.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x you #spider man 2099 #gabi o'hara #gabriella o’hara #dad miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara au #miggy fluff #miggy fic #gn reader #fluff fic

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heartbreakgrill · 2 years

Text

sleepy-head; pedro pascal.

a/n: fluffy falling asleep on set idk, not edited, no warnings. enjoy sweet friends

i stood lopsidedly- left knee bent, hand propped on my waist, and backpack slouched off my shoulder. my head hung low, eyes boring a deep hole into the dirty ground. i fluttered my lashes, in a lane attempt to keep them wide open. with a slight sway to the side, i worried i was going to completely pass out, right then and there.

then, the director yelled out a sharp, clear, "cut!"

i flinched, back straightening like the edge of a knife. i swear i heard something crack in my bones. i tugged the backpack up my shoulder and glanced around me. i met bella's eyes and they made a face, "you alright?"

i shook my head lightly, awakening my face, "tired." i reached an arm into the sky and stretched.

bella approached me, letting their own backpack slide down their shoulder and into their hand. "dude, me, too. i'm ready for today to be over."

"unfortunately," we fell into step off set, "we have a few more hours to go."

"fortunately," they added, mocking my tone, "we have exactly one hour until we have to be back right here. i am going to stuff my face with craft services."

bella's steps grew quicker as they started to bee-line for the food table. "wanna come?" bella offered.

i waved her off, "if i eat anything, i'm going to pass out."

they snorted, "go find a hole to take a nap in."

i managed a small chuckle at the response. maybe that was actually a really good idea. i set my book bag on the prop table; my trailer was a fifteen minute golf-cart ride from here. if i hopped on one right now, i have 30 minutes before i needed to get back on set. not to mention the fact that i needed to be back even earlier for hair and makeup touch ups, and notes from the director. that left maybe fifteen minutes for a nap.

but if i curled up in a corner somewhere, i'd have a good 40 minutes.

i shrugged off my jacket, peering around the set. i met eyes with people every now and again, offered sleep-ridden smiles in their direction. eventually, i settled on the couch in the corner of the room, parallel to a few chairs. it was a small resting place meant for guests, cast and crew members. i headed towards it with a heavy sigh. my feet hurt so bad.

as i approached, i opened my phone up and set a timer for thirty minutes. just in case. i plopped down onto the couch, slipped off my costume combat boots, and curled up in a ball. with my jacket lain across my body, my eyes shut as soon as my head hit the arm rest.

the noises slowly faded from my hearing, becoming muted murmurs in my distant, fuzzy memory. it was one of those weird naps, where i wasn't really asleep, but i definitely was not conscious. i felt my breathing even, a comfortable, monotonous rhythm circulating my system.

i don't know how long passed, but i jutted awake with a shocking pop of open eyes. my shoulders flinched a bit, and i sucked in a breath. i rubbed at my eyes gently, trying not to disturb the makeup there, and glanced around me.

bella had joined me on the couch, sitting at my feet with a bag of chips in their clutches. they were humming to themselves, watching tiktok's on their phone. after registering her presence, i looked ahead, where pedro was sitting, also eating a bag of chips and watching videos on his phone.

i shuffled a bit, lifting myself onto my seat, leg still curled up, beneath me. bella's snapped towards me, "good morning, sunshine. did you have a nice sleep?"

i rubbed my cheeks with either palms, then rested my head in my hands. "oh, god. that felt good, actually." lies.

bella gave me a thumbs up before going back to their phone. they were a human of few words. a silly, adorable human.

i glanced forward again and met pedro's eyes. his attention was lifted from his phone to me, now. he offered a sweet smile. "you doing okay?"

i shrugged, head pounding with exhaustion and restless napping. "just really tired."

my eyes flickered to my left as bella stood, engrossed in technology, and walked off to who knows where. i looked back to pedro.

he jutted his bottom lip slightly, a sympathetic expression. "i'm sorry," he glanced back at his phone, "you've still got thirty five minutes until we've gotta get back. why don't you lay down again?"

"it's okay," i shut the alarm off on my phone. "i'll be fine. this couch isn't comfortable, anyways."

pedro stood slowly, crossing the distance between us, and sat beside me. "no, you're right. this shit sucks," he laughed lamely.

i giggled at his words, "told you so."

pedro hesitated for a moment, glancing around at the furniture. then, he looked down at his lap. pedro set his chips and phone down beside him, shrugged off his jacket, and balled it up in his lap.

"here," he waved lazily, "lay your head down."

i eyed the make-shift pillow. was that going to be weird? i was so tired, i couldn't care less about nicety rules with my coworkers.

i smiled sleepily at him, lowering my head into his lap, "thank you," i murmured.

he rested his right arm across the back of the couch, and balanced his phone on the arm rest, going back to whatever he was doing. "no worries, sugar. i'll wake you when it's time."

i was beyond tired- but i didn't not notice the little butterfly wing that fluttered in my stomach when he called me that.

i passed out this time, though, completely snoozing away in dream-land, until i felt a strong hand clasp my shoulder and gently shake. his touch was warm, seeping through my costume and onto my skin like the gentle lick of a flame. pedro's voice spoke carefully close to my ear, "y/n? hermosa? they're calling us back to set."

i breathed deeply, eyes fluttering open. the first thing i saw were a pair of deep, dark chocolate eyes, shining golden under some of the set lights. my lips curled into a lazy smile, involuntarily. i sat up, feeling a hand softly on my back, supporting me.

"thanks for that," i stretched. "it helped a lot."

pedro's hands dropped into his lap, "i'm really glad." he went to say something else, but one of the makeup artists was approaching us, his large makeup bin in tow.

"y/n, i don't know what you did, but i need to fix that," sebastian waved a hand around my face with a disgusted look.

pedro and i shared a laugh. "i'm sorry, seb. thanks again, pedro."

he nodded, and waved as i got up and followed sebastian to a chair and vanity set up. i settled into the seat, eyes opened a little wider from the rest i'd gotten. as sebastian went to work on my face, my eyes followed pedro's reflection in the mirror. he stood from the couch, brushed his hands off on his pants, like they were sweaty or something. he mumbled something to himself, took a deep breath, and started his way towards set.

i scoffed out a short laugh. sebastian drew his hand back, brows furrowed, "what?"

i shook my head, "nothing."

pedro was kinda hot.

—

two weeks later.

i hugged my legs to my chest, apple of my cheek rested upon the crevice of my knee. a soft scratching noise emitted from the stick that i was dragging across the ground. i followed it in a loop with my eyes until i finished the little stick figure i was drawing.

bella's phone volume lifting snapped me out of my daze. i looked to them, watched them laugh at some video.

"y/n!" they stepped towards me, flipping their phone screen to face me, "we have to do this."

i watched the dance video she showed me, and groaned when it ended. "noooooo," i shoved my forehead against my knees. "i can't dance. you know this."

bella shrugged me off, "i don't care. we're doing it later."

"fine," i gave in. it didn't take much to sway my opinion. the videos bella always made me do with them were fun. i looked forward to the days she'd ask me to make them.

she was my little friend.

pedro interjected, "what is it?"

bella showed him, "dance video were gonna make. i'd invite you, peepaw, but i think you'd break a hip."

i snorted, covering my grinning mouth with my hand. pedro glared at me, playfully flipping both of us off. "whatever. i didn't wanna be a part of it anyways."

my eyes lingered as on his hand as it dropped to his side. his palms were ginormous, fingers long and slender. pedro wasn't excessively fit, but there were still veins snaking beneath his skin.

bella cleared their throat, kicking my shoe gently. "hello? earth to y/n?"

my glazed eyes shut, and i shook my head of the moment. "what? sorry?"

"nevermind. it doesn't matter. are you that tired?" bella plopped down onto the step beside me.

i rubbed my eye slightly, a clear sign that i was exhausted. maybe that's why my mind kept wandering... i nodded in confirmation to bella's question.

pedro sat criss-cross in front of us. he shrugged off his backpack and jacket. "it's been a long week. but we're almost done, honey. just hang in there."

i smiled kindly at his encouragement. "yeah, then two days off, right? i'm so looking forward to that."

pedro and bella nodded. my latter co-star unlocked their phone again, "me, too."they were over the conversation. person of few words, like i said.

pedro glanced at them as their phone volume rang through the beat of silence. he met my eyes and rolled his playfully. i giggled.

pedro leaned back on his palms, head dipping back as he admired the ceiling of the set room we were in. a comfortable silence succumbed us.

i shoved my head into my knees again, letting my eyes fall shut. my breathing became automatic as i entered a dismal state of being.

after a few moments, i felt a hand wrap it's fingers around my wrist. pedro squeezed, tugging my arm from the hold around my legs. i lifted my head, meeting his very closely countered gaze. he was on his knees before me. "yeah?"

pedro pointed beside me, where his jacket was wrapped around his book bag in a faux-pillowed manner. "lay your head down, sugar."

my chest inflated, a rush of heat kissing my cheeks. "o-okay. thanks."

pedro let go of my wrist as i turned, curling into a ball on my side. his backpack felt comfortable beneath my head. i passed out quickly. i woke up, probably fifteen minutes later, to a set of voices sharing a muted conversation, short whispers in the dim light.

"dude, you look so creepy," bella hissed.

pedro huffed out a reply, "shut up."

bella quickly countered with, "you're very openly staring a hole into her face! how can i not comment on that?"

i heard a scuffle as pedro probably adjusted his seating. "i can't help. she's very pretty."

bella awed, quite loudly. pedro shushed her quickly. "that's so cute. wait- do you have, like, a thing for her? wait, you do! oh, my god-"

"i'm walking away now," another shuffle as pedro stood. "forget this ever happened."

"pedro, no! come back!" bella stood, too, following after him.

my eyes slowly opened, a humiliatingly ginormous grin on my mouth. i covered my face with my hands. i was blushing.

okay, yeah there was something there.

–

two weeks later.

i groaned loudly, twisting my pillow around beneath my head for the thousandth time. i felt tears prickle at the back of my exhausted eyes, and a frustrated scream lodge itself in my throat. sniffling furiously, i took short, quick breaths.

for someone who was always falling asleep on set, i sure as hell had a difficult time doing so in my own damn bed.

i sat up, clutching the covers around my bare shoulders. i had shed my clothes a while ago, during some strange hot flash. but now i was shivering, skin lingered with warm goosebumps. i think i had a fever.

grabbing my phone, i checked the time. 3:45am. i had to be up at 6am to film something with bella. i held down the button and my flashlight lit up my room. my phone plopped onto the bed as i stood. i tugged a hoodie on and some pants before quickly hitting the light switch. my eyes screamed and head pounded from the brightness. i grabbed my phone again and turned off the flashlight.

i rummaged around in the medicine cabinet above my tiny sink. there was a thing of ibuprofen, and my hands shook as i tore it open, popping a few pills. i draw swallowed and they scratched my already sore throat. there was not thermometer, however.

i moved quietly, out of my trailer, the door squeaking on the hinges a little too loud. there were a few crew members littering the makeshift streets. there was probably a night shoot happening. i never paid attention to the schedule unless it pertained to me.

the medical tent was a good fifteen minute golf cart ride, but there were none stationed where they normally would. i would just have to walk.

my feet padded against the pavement, slippers scuffing harshly. i drug my fingers against other trailers for support, but when the row of buildings came to an end, i had to hold myself up. i felt like i was going to pass out- everything ached, including my stomach. i wanted to fall into the pavement, curl into a decrepit ball, and die there.

my arms latched around my body, holding me together tightly. i was certain my eyes were completely shut. maybe i was even going in the opposite direction. i didn't know how far i had walked when i ran into someone's solid chest.

hands clutched at my shoulders, rushed, worried words gently coaxing my eyes open. "y/n, cariño? are you okay? what's wrong? y/n, what's wrong? cmon, talk to me, sugar."

my eyes flitted, somehow peeling themselves open. pedro's furrowed brows were the first thing i noticed, and his rambling lips the next. i sighed, pushing my body into his clothes. he took hold of my weight as my knees gave out a bit more.

he wrapped one arm around my back, fingers wrapped around my bicep. his other came to my forehead. "jesus, you're burning up. here-"

my stomach turned as he lifted me up in his arms, temperature hand scooping up my legs. "where are we going?" i slurred, on the precipice of passing out.

"medical tent, sugar. need to get you checked out," pedro whispered, lips close to my ear.

"i feel tired."

"that's okay," he soothed, "go to sleep. it'll be okay. i've gotchu, hermosa."

my head lolled back, resting on his shoulder, as i gave in to the darkness.

when i woke up, i was laying in a hospital bed, papery sheets wrapped tightly around my lower body. my left arm flinched, and i felt wires tug at my skin. on my body was a hospital gown, an iv, and a knit blanket overtop of the issued ones. then, my eyes flittered around the room, narrowed in the bright, fluorescent lighting that covered me.

pedro.

he was in the chair beside my bed, slid down enough that his head could rest on the back of it. his legs were spread out, slumped from his state of sleep. pedro's lips were parted slightly as his even breaths pulled in and out, and his arms were crossed over his chest.

i settled for a second, admiring how peaceful he looked. but, then the beeping of the machines next to me broke me out of my trance. i glanced around again, finding the bed's remote, and raised the head of it so i could sit up properly. pedro shuffled in the chair, groaning as his eyes popped open.

he rubbed at his sockets, sliding back up in his seat. "oh, you're awake," pedro spoke, voice raspy from sleep. okay, that was hot.

i set down the remote, hands clasping each other in my lap. "i just woke up. so, was my fever that bad?"

"it was 104, y/n," pedro leaned forward and planted his elbows on his knees. "i took you to the medical tent, they took your temp, and then shoved you into the ambulance. i was barely able to hop in before they shut the doors and drove away."

i took a shaky breath. i felt a million times better than i had- but i was still sick. i could tell by the raspiness of my breathing, the ache in my bones. "is it covid? where's your mask? you shouldn't be here-"

"hermosa," he clasped a large hand around my own, "i'm not going anywhere. and it's not covid. just a bad case of the flu."

i twisted my fingers through his. "thank god. what time is it even? how long was i out?"

pedro laughed shortly, "it's actually sunday. you've been in an out of consciousness for a day and a half. but they think you can go home tomorrow."

"shit," i sat up a bit, "what about the show? shouldn't you be filming?"

pedro braced a hand on my shoulder, pushing me back against the bed. "don't even dare think about getting up. they've shut down set for the rest of the week to do some cleaning. just relax, cariño."

i huffed, but relaxed back into the bed. pedro squeezed my hand twice. my other hand balled up a fistful of the knit blanket. it was incredibly soft. pedro watched as i stuck my fingers through its holes, fiddling with it anxiously.

"who's blanket is this, anyways?" i asked.

the corner of his lips lifted into his cheeks, "mine. it was over my shoulder when you passed out in my arms. i accidentally brought it with us and just figured you could use it."

i smiled sweetly at him, "thanks. what were you doing with it on set? is it a prop?"

"hermosa, you ask an incredible amount of questions," he hung his head. "but, i thought that you were going to be shooting with us last night. got the schedule mixed up. i brought it for you."

the blood rushed to my cheeks. i wanted to ask why, but i already knew why. for when i fell asleep. i squeezed his hand twice and we shared an ardent gaze.

–

one week later.

"hey, cariño, you feeling better?"

it was my first day back on set since i had been sick. it was a 12 hour schedule, of course, and i was feeling exhausted. i was sitting up against a wall, one leg stretched out before me, and the other curved against my body. pedro squatted before me, leaning in close with a concerned expression.

i brushed my hair behind my ear, "yeah, i'm doing alright. sleepy, as per usual."

pedro chuckled, "figured as much."

"hey, you wouldn't happen to have that blanket, would ya?" i joked, nudging his foot with my own.

"actually..."

pedro pushed up off his knees, and i watched him round the corner, towards where our set chairs were. i couldn't see him anymore. i waited two minutes, before he came back around the corner, cradling that red knit blanket.

he squatted down again, and dropped onto his knees. pedro lay the blanket out over me lovingly. i blushed deeply, engulfed in warmth, and the sweet smell of his cologne.

"wow, uh...thanks," i grinned.

pedro settled against the wall, beside me. "no worries, hermosa."

a beat of silence passed. i wrestled with my thoughts. then, i made a decision and opened the blanket, setting it across his lap. "come on," i offered.

pedro pushed closer, shoulder pressing against mine, as the blanket covered both of us. "is this uncomfortable, though? it's kinda small-"

i bravely took his arm and wrapped it around my shoulder. he came closer, if at all possible. the blanket easily covered us both, now. "there. we made it work."

pedro looked down at me, a cheeky smile on his lips. his eyes were tired, fit with dark bags. i looked away, only to grab my phone and set an alarm. "twenty minutes okay?" i spoke softly.

pedro nodded, "okay."

i curled up into his side, placing my head in the crevice of his shoulder. i felt the weight of his own head as he rested it overtop my own.

my phone woke us twenty minutes later, shocking my system with a rapid heart rate and wide, alarmed eyes. pedro pulled away, sadly, arms stretching above his head. my body was colder in the spots he had touched, like a ghost linger there now.

"feel better?" i yawned into my palm.

pedro rubbed his sleepy eyes. "actually, yes, i do. i get why you do that so much. might have to go it more. although, i'm sure i won't look half as pretty as you do during it."

no words formed in my throat. my mind went blank, as my face heated up. i just stared at him, and i'm sure my eyes were wide, and my smile cheeky.

pedro tilted his head curiously, "you're beautiful, cariño."

i licked my bottom lip, as if lubrication would help the words come easier. "uh- than. thanks you. thank. you."

pedro just admired me for a moment before he reached forward and brushed hair behind my ear. his fingers lingered on my cheek, where he brushed his thumb over the apple of my face. he went to say something else, when a loud voice interrupted us.

"alright, people. let's get this wrapped up!" the director.

we dissipated, disappointed that the moment ended.

–

one month later.

"no, we have to match," i whined to bella, adjusting the santa hat on my head carefully.

they rolled their eyes at my reflection with the matching hat in their hands. "ugh, why?"

"because you always make me do these tiktok's and shit with you. you have to do something for me for once," i argued.

bella lazily tugged the hat on, hands falling flat at their sides. "happy?"

i squealed and clapped my hands together in excitement. "yes! oh, my gosh, so cute!"

bella wore a pair of flannel pj bottoms, red and green, with a green shirt that said, 'the humbug one.' i had on the same bottoms, but with a matching red shirt with the words, 'the jolly one.'

i had bella for secret santa, and i gifted them with the matching pjs. they complained when they unwrapped a large box and saw the pjs inside. little did they know, i had another, much nicer present. but, this was an added bonus just for my amusement.

the cast and crew christmas party was happening down at craft services. i had helped decorate yesterday, decking out the usually bland space with lights, strands of garland, and plenty of faux snow.

"cmon, we don't want to be late," i rushed bella with the wave of my hand.

they rolled their eyes again, but led us out of the trailer anyways. i knew bella secretly enjoyed this. they were like my little sibling.

as we approached craft services, christmas music tuned into our ears, along with the cherry murmur of cast and crew members mingling over cups of eggnog. my steps became a little lighter as i took it all in. everyone was dressed up in pjs or strange costumes, like the grinch or a christmas tree. i just knew my camera roll would be full after this.

bella spotted nico in the crowd and quickly ditched me for her. they looked back at me for a split second and stuck their tongue out, "see you later, loser."

i scoffed loudly, "what the hell!"

left in the dust, i crossed my arms and stepped over my own halted feet forward. i ran into sebastian first, who was nursing a very large sugar cookie cocktail.

"hello, gorgeous," he shook the bell on the end of my hat.

"hi, seb," i giggled. "that looks yummy."

"here, i'll get you one!" he offered enthusiastically, turning towards the table beside us.

my eyes rolled over his shoulder, where i noticed pedro was standing at the other end of the table with nick. pedro wore this ugly christmas sweater, mandelorian themed, with a pair of jeans. he had his glasses on, too, a small detail that made my stomach flutter. pedro had a whiskey glass in his left hand, and his right hung loosely in his front pocket. he was talking gently, grinning at whatever they were talking about. i wonder who his secret santa was.

my eyes lingered a second longer before sebastian popped back up in front of me. he held out a cocktail. i smiled, "thank you so much. hey, who'd you get for the secret santa thing?"

sebastian took a small sip of his drink, "murray bartlett. got him this blue scarf and glove set. looks gorgeous with his eyes."

i nodded, eyes flickering between him and pedro. a distant look, i'm sure, crossed my face. "oh, awesome. and who had you?"

sebastian tried to meet my eyes, but they focused in on pedro. he turned slightly, following my gaze. "0h, my god," he laughed. "knew it."

i wasn't paying attention. "who?"

sebastian's reply was laughed, "someone from the camera crew- girl, you're down so bad."

"uh-huh," i rolled my bottom lip between my teeth.

pedro's head fell back as he laughed, and when he straightened it, his eyes finally met mine. his smile widened, if at all possible, as he seemed to withdraw from the conversation and enter a space, encased with only me.

nick looked my way, brows furrowed with confusion. when he saw me, his brows then raised in understanding. he and sebastian shared an annoyed, humored look.

sebastian's hand touched my back, and he gently shoved me forward. my feet, which had been aching to make that journey forward, caught themselves and continued. nick patted pedro's shoulder lovingly, muttering some goodbye, and he walked away.

as i settled in front of pedro, a shiver rippled down my back. i let out a breathy, "hey."

pedro looked utterly taken, and he tilted his chin down, "hermosa."

"so," i swayed side to side slightly, grasping at some topic, "who had you for secret santa?"

pedro replied, "nick. got me some whiskey and this really nice jacket."

"oh, awesome," i finally took my eyes off his, nodding at my feet. but, like magnets, we met again.

"who'd you have?" pedro swung his elbow, lightly jabbing me.

i found bella in the crowd and pointed towards them. "bella. made them wear these stupid pajamas with me. i haven't given them the actual gift, which is a ginormous gift basket with all their favorite snacks and stuff like that."

pedro whistled, "damn, cariño. now i'm kinda wishing you were my secret santa."

"ha," i laughed, "yeah, well i haven't gotten anything yet, so i'm not going to be gifting anybody else...that's a lie, i'll make you a gift basket."

pedro said, "no, no, no," and braced his hand on my bicep. it was warm, like i remembered, "don't worry about that. your secret santa is just...waiting, hermosa. for the right moment."

i tilted my head, "waiting? what? how do you...oh."

pedro's smile was knowing. his hand stayed on my arm, sliding down my forearm, to my fingers. he intertwined them with his own. "i think this moment feels right. cmon."

he turned to stand beside me. with a gentle tug of my hand, we moved forward, away from the party, and to his trailer.

"are you going to kill me?" i joked.

pedro shook his head, laughing, "no, i promise. i just-" he held the door open, "wanted this to be for just us."

i had the smallest inclination, but i tried not to get my hopes up. my chest inflated anyways, full of thrill.

when we stepped inside, pedro grabbed a wrapped present from the counter. "this is the first present."

"the first? wow. you didn't-"

"don't start with that, hermosa,” he shushed me, and motioned to the couch. “just open it.”

i pressed my lips together, a grin growing on my face. “okay.”

i took a seat with him on the couch and set the present on my lap. my fingers shook slightly as i began to peel off the christmas wrapping paper. “oh, i like the little cats,” i laughed as i stopped to admire the various patterned animal on the paper.

pedro nodded, “i knew you would.”

my heart was melting.

i peeled more of the paper away, revealing a large, knit blanket. “you didn’t!” i gasped, shaking off the paper. “i hate you!”

pedro laughed as i quickly started tearing off the packaging. i unrolled the blanket, and wrapped it around my shoulders, basking in the softness.

“oh, i did,” he remarked.

i sighed in the embrace of the blanket, “it’s so warm, i could fall asleep right here.”

“why are you always so tired?” pedro shook my shoulders crazily, teasing me.

i laughed, and situated some of the blanket on his lap. “i don’t know! i just am, i guess.”

“worries me,” he rubbed a hand over the blanket that was on my thigh.

i shifted under his touch, nervous again. “well, thank you for this.”

“okay, next present,” pedro clapped his hands together.

he reached for a smaller square, wrapped in the same paper, on the coffee table. i tilted my head, exasperated by his kind favors. “thank you, pedro.”

“just open it already.”

i did as he asked. under the paper was a picture collage, with a few different pictures of us. the day i first fell asleep with my head in his lap; the day i overheard him and bella talking about me; him by side at the hospital, holding my hand; the time we fell asleep under the blanket together.

i sucked in a gasp of breath, “wow! who took all of these?”

pedro laughed, “bella.”

i rolled my eyes in response. “should’ve known. this is so sweet. i can’t wait to hang it up at home.”

pedro hesitated, before laying out some careful wording, “i wanted you to have these pictures because they’re sweet, yes. but, hermosa, i wanted you to be able to see me falling in love with you. i didn’t notice it at first, until bella sent me these pictures last week. but, i know now- it’s there.”

i met his eyes, my own vision watery from admiration. i set the frame down and took his hand in my own, “im so happy right now. i don’t think you’re ever going to top this gift.”

we shared a small laugh. i looked back to the picture frame and continued admiring it. then, he squeezed my hand twice, as a few beats of silence passed between us. “hermosa?”

“yeah?” i looked back to him. he raised his brows, waiting expectantly. i realized, and my eyes widened, “oh! i love you! yeah, i do, i’m sorry, i thought i said, but i guess i forgot to. i love you so fucking much, pedro.”

he rolled his eyes, but burst into singing laughter. “i can’t believe you!”

“i’m sorry, i’m tired!”

#pedro #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x y/n

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itsonlydana · 7 months

Text

THRANDUIL'S GUIDE TO: LOOSING A JOB / WINNING A HEART | hobbit

pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader 👑

You are late for work and sure that your boss will sack you. Instead, Thranduil takes you and his kids to the park, and somehow the day takes a turn for the better.

tags/warnings: modern!AU, nanny!AU, mutual pining; characters: Thranduil, young!Legolas, young!Tauriel; rating: sfw

wordcount: 8,4k

an: sorry sorry sorry for not updating "passenger princess"; please take this as a small apology. I'm posting this after watching 'anyone but you' so know i'm dancing and singing rn

+ general m.list +

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot - especially with longer projects <3

The subway doors shut close with a squeak, mere seconds after you stepped out. They gave you barely any time to think about whether you had everything important with you before the train hissed away again, disappearing into the dark tunnels that twisted like endless labyrinths beneath the city.

Not that you had the time for it; anything forgotten was lost, and you were already far too late to mourn a possibly left-behind lip balm.

Pressing your bag tightly against your side, you joined the stream of people, moving like an army of ants from the platform to the escalators.

It took a while before you could step onto the moving steps – of course, the third grade that had already been on the train when you had rushed in left at the same stop as you.

Screaming, uncontrollable children surrounded you, and you did your best not to make eye contact with any of them, impatiently staring at the approaching exit, the clear sky finding its way through high towering glass buildings.

As a very rude man in sportswear pushed ahead, mumbling swear words that the nanny in you wanted to scold him for, one of the kids stumbled against your legs.

Clammy hands grasped at the coat shielding you from the brisk autumn winds, its numerous inner pockets offering a secure haven for your valuables against the avaricious hands of pickpockets. Gazing downward, you found yourself locking eyes with a boy, his wide blue eyes reminding you that you were so so late...

You gave him an encouraging smile, causing the child to loosen his grip but he didn't let go until you reached the fresh air outside.

Out of habit, you quickly bent down, ignoring the complaints of an elderly lady behind you, and zipped up his bright orange jacket.

It was still early in the morning, the air cold, coloring the tips of noses and cheeks in blushes. Even if you didn't know this child, no parent would be happy to take a day off because of a sick child; especially not here.

Once the boy was properly bundled up, his big smile disappearing behind the fleece of the jacket, you straightened up and made your way through the crowd of people.

Somewhere in your pockets, your phone vibrated now that there was a reception and bombarded you with all the messages that didn't reach you in the last twenty minutes underground.

The sidewalk was bustling, shoulders pushing against shoulders, making it impractical to fish out the phone at the moment; it felt like a time-wasting endeavor, and the chance that you would start crying if anyone snapped at you for slowing down was far too high.

This whole morning left you on the brink of a meltdown, the stress bubbling under the surface, an itch under your skin that didn't want to leave you–

Opting for a brisk walk, you maneuvered through the lively streets of New York, a city of grand dreams that, at the moment, felt a bit out of reach.

Three years ago, following a string of peaceful years growing up in your quiet suburb, one of the Universities you had applied to offered you a full scholarship.

That led to packing up all your possessions, and you transitioned from the comfort of your familiar childhood room to a cramped studio, outweighed by more "cons" than "pros."

You initially went with the expectation of finally fulfilling the big dream, only to realize that living the dream in New York brought problems with them– like an expensive water and electricity bill, unfriendly neighbors that stole the washing machines and dropped your clothes onto the floor, and the inescapable feeling of loneliness amid millions.

After uni, one odd job followed another; "dishwasher in a food truck" and "Christmas-card door-to-door selling with Girl Scouts" were some of the tamer examples.

You did what you had to do, even if that sometimes involved horrendous pay for even more horrific work hours.

Sure, they were definitely experiences , but many of them were the kind that your parents used as a reason to convince you to come back home.

They were right on some level, there were nights you cried sitting alone on the floor of your apartment until the neighbors below you knocked on their ceiling, complaining about the noise, but these evenings were few and far between.

Ever since you got your current job it had reduced to once or twice a month!

It was by far the best on the now 40-line long list of abandoned "experiences." It was flexible, paid more than enough, and you actually looked forward to the days you had to work.

At first, you couldn't believe your eyes when Thranduil Oropherion (the Thranduil Oropherion, multimillionaire and head of the 'Greenleafs Children's Book Publishing' well before hitting thirty, face of the Times on many occasions) contacted you through an unknown babysitter matchmaking site.

Fortunately, the site wasn't so unknown that someone could pretend to be him; otherwise, you wouldn't have engaged in the subsequent chat, where you shared your babysitting experiences with him, and you certainly wouldn't have gone to the first meeting.

It had been in a small café near Central Park, and thankfully not at some fancy Italian place, as your remaining money for the month wouldn't have covered elegant evening wear.

Mr. Oropherion, Thranduil, as he insisted daily, was, unsurprisingly as attractive in person as the press had described.

You had seen pictures, heard of his name, maybe even looked him up once or twice ever since you started babysitting rich kids who had his books lining their shelves without reading them once. They were the kind of children who said "Please" nearly as often as "Thank you."

Close to never.

After being confronted with the beautifully bound books in most of their study rooms, you had googled the Green Leaf emblem, only to have the picture of the hottest man you have ever seen pop off.

The legs that went on for days, the long blonde hair, the warm voice sending chills down your spine as he explained his need for a new sitter- funny how you had no idea what the reason was, but knew exactly how his dark brows had furrowed and raised, how his voice had dropped lower on some words and higher on others.

Easy to say that you wasted no second after he asked you if you still wanted the job (still? To this day it was a mystery what he meant with that, lost in daydreams about his blue eyes and the firm handshake) for you to agree.

One contract signing later, and you were officially the babysitter of the sweetest kids you have ever met.

Legolas and Tauriel not only listened to you, but they even cooperated and never caused trouble when it came to bedtime or leaving the park. They naturally reached for your hand on the street, ate their vegetables obediently, and even when you had to be strict on rare occasions, it never took long for the sulking faces to light up again.

It wasn't just the children that you took a liking to.

The initiate awe of meeting Thranduil turned into a full-blown crush faster than you could have blinked; a sentiment you would only ever confide in your diary.

The prospect of explaining how sad it was to fall in love with your remarkably young boss was not inviting, and you would do your best to avoid those conversations.

Falling in love with someone in a position of authority, who paid you for your services monthly, particularly in a role where you cared for his children, was not an ideal situation.

Nevertheless, you found yourself deeply infatuated with – his looks, charm, smile, and the way he effortlessly made you forget all worries when he returned home, embraced by his children, eager to hear every intricate detail of their day.

And yours.

Falling for him had happened quickly, too quickly to really think about how it could affect your job in the case of an outburst of feelings, whether accidental or intentional.

You saw it as a kind of adventure, like diving into a novel where you could experience the feelings of love without ever wanting to address them.

And sometimes, when there was just the two of you left at the dinner table and he would offer you wine and a smile, you had the impression the conversations turned into teasing and flirting.

It was important for you to keep this job, which is why the fear of getting fired for being late today made your legs move, and you managed to cover the usual fifteen-minute relaxed walk despite the piercing cold air in your nose and lungs in seven minutes.

Eight minutes earlier, and still twenty-three minutes late, you arrived at one of the many towering skyscrapers, with glowing cheeks and sweat drops rolling down your temples.

The doorman in the lobby looked at you with an understandable and sympathetic look through his small glasses before letting you enter the elevator and pressing the button for the Oropherion residence.

The minute it took to reach the 53rd floor - 53, seriously, that's an absurd number of floors - you loosened the red scarf around your neck, finally being able to breathe without it feeling like you swallowed ice, and unbuttoned your coat to fish out your phone.

As soon as the screen lit up, all other messages faded away.

Except for one–

Thranduil O.: I write to inform you that...

Dizziness, not from the height you must be at, but from the thoughts of all the stressful evenings when you had called through stores and sent resumes one after another.

You knew how much your boss valued punctuality; he relied on you to arrive at the agreed-upon time so he could leave for work in peace, and today, you had disappointed him.

He was a nice man, friendly but strict in important matters.

You had witnessed more than once how icy he could become when his driver had picked him up late for reasons within his control, and so far, you were glad not to have experienced that side of him.

Was he late today? What if he had an important meeting or had to sign contracts? What if he could pack up the publishing house because of you? (That this was more than unlikely didn't cross your mind at the moment, but much later)

With trembling hands, you tried to unlock your phone before the elevator reached the penthouse, but you failed several times at entering your password, fingers hitting the wrong numbers, which didn't help your agitated mood.

At the same moment, you finally managed to enter your password correctly and access your messages from the lock screen, the loud ping of the elevator startled you.

Quickly, you slipped your phone into your pocket again and prepared for the worst, like bidding farewell to the sweetest children on earth and the best boss, who would easily hire a new sitter.

The doors opened the same moment a piercing scream echoed through the apartment, high in pitch and undoubtedly Tauriel.

"No no no no"

The worst scenario sprung into your mind, the children left alone and hurt, climbing on expensive furniture, and possibly injured, all because your alarm didn't ring.

As fast as your legs could carry you, you ran into the adjacent living area from where the crying had come. "Tauriel?" you called out; the children should know that you were there now and could help.

But the next words died on your tongue, didn't make it over your panicky opened lips.

The image of an injured Tauriel and an apartment thrown into chaos faded with the last bit of breath in your lungs.

Nowhere were traces of such chaos; nothing was out of place, except for the children's toys, like some dolls and Lego pieces scattered on the oakwood floor.

There were no injuries, no tears, and no abandoned children.

There, on the floor in front of the gray couch, was Thranduil, stretched out on the usually neatly arranged sofa cushions, a screaming Tauriel balanced on his raised hands and a laughing Legolas stretched across his stomach, trying to reach for his sister.

You didn't know what happened to your thoughts.

Why they strayed away from the fact that Thranduil was here, at home, while he should be at work, and that this was surely your last day, and instead clung to the happy family image that you had envied for several months now.

Then Thranduil's gaze fell on you, and your heart stumbled over the smile on his face. The children also looked up, joyfully calling your name, and you waved to them, a forced smile on your lips.

You only had one chance to explain, one chance to save this beloved job before it slipped through your fingers. "I'm so sorry for being late, Thranduil," you started, wrapping your arms around yourself for support. "You probably want a proper apology that can explain all this, but as inexcusable as it is, I overslept. The power went out at my place last night, and my phone couldn't charge, so my alarm didn't ring. I'm really really sorry, and I want to make it up."

You took a deep breath. Tears were swelling in the corners of your eyes, threatening to break out every second, and you struggled to blink them away; your apology was pathetic enough without tears.

Thranduil slowly got up, gently placing the confused-looking Tauriel on the small coffee table and took a few steps towards you, causing your concentration to waver for a moment.

Why wasn't he wearing a suit like usual? Normally, he was already dressed for work every morning. Today, however, he wore black straight-cut trousers and a dark blue knit sweater that was covered in gray couch pillow lint.

He spoke your name softly, much too soft for the conversation that would follow.

Now he would fire you; now you could say goodbye to everyone, and from tomorrow on, you would only be able to admire this beautiful face in newspapers.

"I'll make it up to you, but please don't fire me!"

With an expression of pure horror, Thranduil bridged the meters between you and pulled you into a surprising hug, stifling any sob. His hand lovingly patted your back, stroking in circular motions over your shoulder blades.

"Ada, what's wrong?"

"Legolas, Tauriel," he turned his head, one hand cupping your neck, and spoke in a soft voice, "could you please to go your rooms? Give us a minute, alright?"

Immediately, you wanted to pull away; he was your boss, and he shouldn't send his children away just because you were upset about your own mistakes.

Thranduil didn't let go though; he continued to hold you tightly in his strong arms as if the boundary between your roles in this relationship didn't exist.

"What nonsense led you to think I would fire you?" Thranduil asked after a while.

Slowly lowering his arms, he silently allowed your heart a moment to mourn the warmth of his body, a last moment before he stepped back, and you feared you might never be so close to him again.

Instead, he surprised you by reaching for your hand and leading you over to the couch, stepping around the thrown-around cushions on the carpet.

Waiting for you to sit, he joined you, surprisingly close.

"I did write to you that I have a day off today and would love to spend it with all of you," he said, patting your knee and seeking your downward gaze.

Your already reddened cheeks flushed even more. Perhaps you should have checked your messages right after leaving the subway. Then you wouldn't have embarrassed yourself so much in front of Thranduil, a man whose respect meant more to you than anything else, and especially you wouldn't have caused a scene in front of the children.

"Unfortunately, I didn't see that," you admitted, quietly and ashamed.

The man beside you nodded in understanding, his hand still on your leg.

With each touch, a tingling fire spread from that spot through your entire body, to your rapidly beating heart.

He had been doing this more often lately, guiding you with a hand on your back or brushing over your shoulders when helping you with your coat.

Sometimes, the occasional, slightly longer-than-necessary handshake left your knees weak, and even now, his touch burned through the fabric of your pants, as if a sitcom-worthy handprint might be etched there.

"It happens to the best of us," him excluded of this, the man was never late, never forgot, and worst of all, never broke down crying "-please don't fret over this any longer. Everything is alright."

You nodded, sniffling when he stretched to the coffee table and offered you a tissue, handed over with one of his infuriating smiles.

"Thanks," you dabbed the tissue against your cheeks, trying to wipe away the blush and surely ugly puffiness as well as the tears, "I'm still sorry for-" you pointed to your face, "-all this. This probably wasn't how you wanted your day off to start"

Thranduil tilted his head slightly, long blond hair cascading over his shoulder, which he now nudged against yours. "Hey, we have a rule in this house, y'know? No crying unless it's during a movie, book, or when I cooked"

The laugh you let out sounded more like a snort, which is embarrassing in itself though Thranduil only nudged you again in good humor, "So, if you don't want me to punish you for this utterly inexcusable rulebreaking, then you should quickly smile again"

"Oh no!" you exclaimed, wiping away some more tears, before biting down a smile, "I could not handle watching Frozen 2 again this week"

The Oropherion household was most prestigious with Thranduil representing the largest book publishing company in the country, and his two exemplary children, so of course, punishment for any rulebreaking of this kind was a movie night- movie chosen by the youngest (if she wasn't the one breaking the rules).

"Again?" Thranduil raised his eyebrows, then patted your leg condescendingly, "Have I ever told you how strong you are, my dear?"

Ignoring the stutter your heart makes at the nickname and carefully filing the moment away for later, you shook your head, "You have no idea. I had barely picked them up from school yesterday when Tauriel snitched on Legolas for tripping another boy- he did it as an act of self-defense.. well he defended Aragorn but we do not know that if anyone official calls, and then for that Legolas tripped her and so I spend the evening yet again in the company of Olaf and Anna."

As you recount the eventful first day of the week, you could hear and feel Thranduil snicker, his whole body shaking where it pressed against yours- legs, thighs, shoulders.

"Wow, just.. oh my," Thranduil exhaled, and there laid a fondness in his blue eyes, a softness in the corner of his mouth, that washed away the stern businessman, leaving no room for anyone else but a young father, who soaked up every moment of his kid's lives, scared they were growing up too fast.

"Anyway, I shouldn't just sit around and ramble," you crumpled up the tissue in one hand, using the other to brush away some hair.

Conjuring your best smile, the one reserved for him and only him, you linger for one second on the warmth of his body this close to you, before squaring your shoulders. "Soo, thanks for not firing me, I appreciate it and swear that I'll check my phone in the morning to not cause you this much trouble again"

Thranduil's eyebrows twitched, barely noticeable to anyone who wasn't staring at him constantly. "I wouldn't have fired you," he said, honest and completely serious; you shrink together, just like the paper tissue. He continues, voice grave and his eyes focused on you, "Not because of something like that, not because of a little thing you are not responsible for. And even if you were, I think we're long past the point where I'd want to fire you, no matter what"

You stare at him, mouth slightly agape, and you want to ask him what he meant by that or if he meant to say it like he did, but no words come out.

Thranduil takes your speechlessness in, his lashes fluttering softly as he closes his eyes, tipping his head to the side. Another barely noticeable change in his demeanor, this time the hint of a smile, that quickly disappears again.

A call from Tauriel shattered the atmosphere between you, and you pulled yourself together.

"Let's just let it go," Thranduil said, this time his mouth curved into a full smirk.

You glare at him, forcing yourself to stand up. "I hate you"

You didn't, but there was no need to add that since the smile and blush on your face gave that away as much as any words would.

Still smirking at you, Thranduil yelled "Yes, Tauriel, you can come back in" and as soon as he finished the two children you loved so dearly rushed into the living room.

While Legolas immediately spilled over the back of the couch like liquid and rolled face first into the small space between his father and the couch, Tauriel nearly toppled over her own feet racing toward you.

She collided with your legs without slowing down.

Unlike Legolas, who was a spitting image of his father with his bright blue eyes and blond hair, Tauriel had inherited her red hair and freckles from her mother, who was only mentioned by Thranduil, if at all, with a dismissive snort, as if it were part of her name.

However, he had every right to do so.

After all, he did rush into the hospital on Christmas-Eve nine years ago, thinking that from then on, Christmas would have the table decked for four, not two, and he left with two children barely a day old and already burdened with a mother who had lost all interest in them.

She had left the hospital when Thranduil had been asleep, his children close to his chest as he grew from boy to single father in one night.

"What are we going to do today?" Tauriel asked, her hands grabbing the coat you still hadn't shed.

"Well, we could go to the park?" you offered and brushed some of her hair out of her face, "Or do you want to let your Ada decide?"

She pulled a face, twisting her lips in an adorable pout. "Noo, then he will go to a museum and they are soo boooring"

Thranduil cleared his throat, looking thoroughly outraged- as well as one could with his other child climbing over his back and tugging his hair. "Tauriel, I thought you loved our trip to the History Museum!"

There was a pause where Tauriel contemplated what to say, before pulling her lips into a smile and swiping her hand at the air: "Oh, yes, Ada, I really love going to the History Museum with you."

Then, turning to you and rolling her eyes in a matter that was surely an imitation of all the adult chit-chat she had caught and not even close to the behavior of a nine-year-old, she faux-whispered: "Don't fall for my tricks, I just don't want to see him sad"

You weren't even close to fast enough to cover the laugh that bubbled out of your throat with a cough.

"She just goes there because there is a boy in our class that she wants to impress," Legolas piped up, his feet dangling over Thranduil's shoulders while his blonde hair was sticking to his father's back.

"Not true!" Tauriel snapped back.

"SO true, she looooves-"

"Do not!"

"Yes, you do!"

"NO, I do not!"

"You-"

"HEY!" you cut into the back and forth that surely would have ended in punches or more tears, "If anyone says anything there will be no trip to the park, the museum or to wherever you want to go today!"

You fixated the twins with a warning stare that left no room for discussion and it even seemed to shut up Thranduil, who had opened his mouth and now, slowly and looking at you, closed it again.

"Thank you," you crossed your arms in front of your chest, "Now, I don't see beaks or feathers on the both of you so I'll ask you to refrain from squawking and cackling, and Legolas if you want to tease your sister about a boy, should I tell her about-"

"NO!" the boy screamed and immediately, realizing his mistake of speaking out of turn, clapped both hands in front of his mouth, leaving his blue eyes to plead.

Not that you would have said anything; whether it was Aragorn or that boy, Kili, you would never dare to spill the secrets that they whispered to you when you tugged them in.

You nodded once.

It was enough for the boy to relax, slipping onto the couch bare of cushions, and curling his arms around his father's neck.

It was an endearing, yet very exhausting trait of the boy to be unable to stop moving, always climbing things, restlessly skipping around when he was supposed to do his homework.

"Go and put on your boots, coats, and yes- Legolas, even your scarf and hat, and no- Tauriel, you did not forget them in school, I picked them up yesterday and put them into your bag"

There was not much grumbling, well, Tauriel muttered something close to a curse under her breath but at your sharp gaze, she opened her mouth in such a wide smile, baring two rows of teeth, that it looked strained, and Legolas made his protest clear in changing in and out of at least five sweaters before settling on one the same ink-blue as his fathers.

Said father continued to stifle his laughter while you stood in the hallway, waiting until the coat rack was nearly empty and the children had their coats zipped up, their boots tied, their necks covered in scarfs and two pairs of hands had gloves dangling from them.

Said father also came up behind you, when the twins were busy forming plans on what this day would come to, maybe an adventure in the park, or a walk through the aquarium, and you felt his hands brush over your shoulders, as he leaned to whisper in your ear and cause shivers to prickle down your spine despite the warm clothes:

"What a shame that I miss you this assertive most of the time, it looks good on you"

He must have heard the gulp of your throat, must have felt the buckling of your knees, but alas, he said nothing more and the moment passed as quickly as it had come.

It was what he was good at, swiping you off your feet with comments like this and touches like that, leaving you dazed and wondering if you had imagined it all or if that twinkle in his eyes truly was as flirtatious as you thought it to be.

"Okay so, shall we go?"

You caught Thranduil's smirk as he grabbed his coat as well.

His hands were quick to fasten the shiny buttons, working their way up from the bottom in seconds, and as he pulled his long hair out to toss it over his shoulders, the elegant length of his fair neck flashed into view.

Frozen in place, your gaze lingered on the curve of his cheekbones, the pointed ears, and quickly you looked away before he turned his attention from Legolas back to you and might have caught you staring.

It was truly unfair how beautiful he was, wearing the fitted coat, snug at his small waist and highlighting the broad of his shoulders, the midnight blue color being the perfect color for his blonde hair to look like starlight and sunshine all at once.

He drew looks onto him wherever he went and not because of his wealth or business– those were things New Yorkers didn't care about if he passed them on the streets.

He was simply breathtaking, and that he had a daughter skipping over puddles reflecting the clear blue sky and a son babbling while he listened and laughed and answered was more of a magnet than he maybe realized.

In fact, he never seemed to notice the heads turning, the heart eyes that mothers and young women watched him with, and the appreciating nods of handsome men. The ogling and giggling, the sighs and gasps, murmurs and whispers.

Not from strangers but certainly he had the talent to catch the slighted exhale of breath from you whenever you lost yourself in his elegant figure, watching and dreaming as he played with his children or washed the dishes, his back turned to you to examine his muscles straining against the stretch of his shirt.

He teased you for it, lips curving into smiles, eyebrows raising in a wiggle, arms lifting to reveal a sliver of toned stomach.

Even now, as you crossed the street to enter Central Park, the constant pull of Legolas on your right arm left you to slightly tumble into Thranduil, shoulders knocking against shoulder and you glanced up at him to apologize only to find a smirk already tugging on the left corner of his mouth.

The air is still quite chilly, leaving you to lift your nose in the direction of the February sun, albeit a long way from warming you up, it was enough to ease on the frost nipping at your skin.

The children were tugging you into the direction of their favorite playground, hats bouncing at the excited steps that were nearly too fast to hold them back, boots stomping as they made a game of pulling you.

Their happiness was brighter than any sommer light, the teasing from the apartment long forgotten as the roads curved and dew-kissed gras made way for sand and rubber flooring.

They stormed off as soon as Thranduil and you let go of them, scrambling away to conquer the climbing towers and slides and most assuredly end up befriending some if not all of the other kids that are playing under the watchful eyes of parents sitting on the many benches scattered around the place.

Thranduil and you settled onto a weathered bench, positioned directly beneath a skeletal tree that, in a matter of weeks, would burst into bloom, but for now, stood adorned only with bare branches reaching towards the heavens.

Thranduil folded his hands in his lap, starting by delicately pinching at the fingertips of one glove.

With graceful precision, he slipped his slender hand out, exposing his milky skin to the chill, repeating the process with agonizing slowness on the other hand.

The ritual held your undivided attention, captivating you as you watched those slender hands gradually unfasten the first button of his coat.

As if that weren't bad enough, he proceeded to loosen the red scarf wrapped around his neck, a vibrant contrast against the wintry backdrop.

Your mouth felt almost devoid of moisture as you struggled to comprehend.

Huddled deeper into the folds of your own coat, you shot him a reproachful glance. "I don't get how you aren't cold," you muttered, your words punctuated by a shiver.

He made a show of popping another button of his coat. "Tze, how could anyone be cold in this weather?" Thranduil angled his face toward the sun, "I dare say that this is the perfect weather for a long walk"

You scoffed, "Oh, here we go again. I can't wait for you to open up the window later and tell me that the winds are just a slight breeze. It's unfair, you know? Some of us freeze just by looking at you carelessly throwing that scarf away"

Thranduils squinted his eyes, seemingly contemplating whatever was going on his beautiful head and before you could say anything else he had raised his arms and wrapped the scarf around the smaller one you already wore.

Your mouth fell open in surprise, the blood rushing into your cheeks as he busied himself tugging here and there and then had the gall to pull so that you had your mouth full of scarf.

It not only smelled like his perfume but tasted like it as well.

"There, now you are best equipped for this blizzard-like cold!" he chuckled and when you tried to pull the scarf away, he held one of the ends so that it slipped to cover your ears. "Oops, my fault-"

"Thranduil!" was what you wanted to say though the fabric made it sound more like "Franfuil" which made him only laugh louder. His eyes crinkled at the corners, the amusement showing itself in their baby blues.

Thinking that he maybe just did it for a joke, you wanted to free yourself from it.

His cold hands coming to rest upon yours with his long slender fingers covering yours, halted the movement.

"I can't wear your scarf," you said meekly and made another attempt though with not much force.

You wanted to wear his scarf, wanted to sit on this bench with all the other parents passing you and seeing his claim, his scarf wrapped around your neck, but this was another dream, not something that really happened.

He was just joking, wasn't he?

"Tze," Thranduil swatted at the air and clicked his tongue. "Why not? You said it yourself, you are freezing because of me. Let me offer you some warmth and don't tell me this scarf isn't wondrous. The wool is from irish sheeps-"

He continued talking, and you sunk back into the bench, nose buried into the fabric that carried his scent.

The scarf did help, although it wasn't just because of the added expensive layer but because of the hands that had wrapped it as well.

"and thus this scarf is the best way to keep your poor freezing body self. Imagine what the kids would say if they came back and you sat here like an iceberg. We would have to bring hammers to break you out of it," he finished with a satisfied nod to himself and folded on leg over the other, clasping his hands on top of the raised knee. "Now, no more complaining, do we understand each other?"

You nodded obediently.

Thranduil took it in, making sure that you didn't talked back to him, then he turned toward the playground.

You followed his gaze to Legolas and Tauriel hanging on the monkey bars and swinging back and forth.

"Mhm," he hummed and a smirk pulled on his lips, "I really want to say that the cold never bothered me anyway"

At your pained groan, he just laughed joyfully.

Inside your chest, your heart stuttered against your ribcage.

"I can say that this is far better than sitting in the office," Thranduil mused after a while, eyes wandering from his children to you.

He really did look much happier, the cold giving him a healthy blush that reached all the way down his slender throat.

Not that you stared at his Adam's apple and the soft rosé of his skin– your eyes were just drawn to the red lint his scarf had left on his collar.

You tried to lift an eyebrow like he always did but failed miserably. "What? And here I figured that playing all day was only half as much fun as making sure my suit didn't get wrinkled from all the sitting around."

Thranduil scoffed, not in anger but in humor. "I will let you know that I'm not bound to the desk and will walk to get some coffee now and again"

"Oh how adventurous," you teased, nudging your elbow into his side, "Do tell, whatever do they do with this wild man of a boss?"

He laughed at that, and you had to bury your teeth in your lip to stop yourself from smiling like a fool.

"Sometimes they take away my pen and force me to listen to whatever offer is going on instead of letting me play tic-tac-toe"

"That's so unfair," you shook your head, the smile now breaking out despite the best effort to retain it, "Maybe I should talk to them because last time I saw your notes you lost every time. Like you are so bad! They should let you practice more"

"You cheeky-" Thranduil stopped himself, the chortling laughter made it impossible to understand anything he would have said anyway.

After a while the laughter subsided, leaving a comfortable silence that you sunk into, letting the whole moment wash over you.

There was laughter all around you, children screaming and yelling, Tauriel and Legolas swinging on the monkey bars as the cold colored their faces nearly as red as the girl's hair.

Somewhere in the distance, the music of the carousel waved over, the melody familiar by now and you dared to tilt your head just enough to the side, to make it look like your gaze was trailing over to the wooden tent instead of trailing the curve of Thranduil's nose, the long lashes resting on his cheek as he bathes in the sun.

As if he felt your eyes on him, he hummed. "Maybe I should cut my hours short," Thranduil's voice was low, but there was a firmness behind the words, a determination that told you he had thought about this longer than his statement let on.

Your heart jumped in your chest.

Grateful that his eyes were still closed so that he couldn't see the shock that played your features, you inhaled deeply, needing the sting of the air in your lungs.

"Oh," you whispered, wanting to follow up with something encouraging but the words just wouldn't come to you.

"Oh," you simply repeated.

The chill of winter settled deep into your bones and you hunched your shoulders, the meaning of his words cutting sharp into the string of affection that you thought connected the two of you.

If he worked less than that meant he wouldn't come home late in the evening, maybe even early enough to pick up his children from school, giving him time to cook for them, go to the playground, and accompany them to Legolas archery lessons and Tauriels dance classes.

If he had all the time do to this, then it would be more than reasonable to let you go.

"Mhm–" Thranduil hummed again, eyes still shut. "The firm doesn't need my input, they can do their best without me hovering around as if I was not just there to listen in to negotiations. This is what I should have done ages ago, direct my attention to the kids instead of book deals that only need my signature."

You nodded, ignoring that he couldn't see it.

"We should get away, the kids haven't had a vacation in forever. I own a house near Greenwood, and the last time I was there there had been a village close enough for the children to make some friends. It would be good for them, don't you think?"

"Yeah– sure," you swallowed hard, trying to force down the stone lodged in your throat.

There, on the tip of your tongue, was a plea, the urge to beg him not to fire you but you would rather let him continue to talk than embarrass yourself again.

"There was a house close by, a family with another single dad and his three kids. If I remember correctly the youngest had been Tauriel and Legolas' age, they could show them around, and Legolas can finally have that damn treehouse he always asks for," Thranduil chuckled and stretched out his legs, the tips of his shoes pointing to the sky, "He asks for one every birthday and I think if he asks me one more time I will find a way to build him that treehouse, even if that means buying a damn tree here in Central Park."

You let out a humorless laugh, more an exhale of air than anything else.

The images Thranduil painted would have been lovely if not for the pain growing inside your chest at every word.

"And we could take a walk through the woods, just you and me."

"What?"

Thranduil's eyes snapped open, blue eyes piercing you like the brightness of the sun over your heads.

For the first time, you saw confusion in them, unsureness, and doubt, and you must have looked just as baffled.

"A walk, to talk, you know? Without the kids sleeping in the other room, without their nosy ears hearing things they shouldn't?" His eyes widened, suddenly he seemed very much uncomfortable with how slouched he sat for he straightened up, "Oh my," he lifted a hand to run it through his hair, tousling it even more, "Oh no, have I overstepped?"

Your gaze remained fixed on him. "You want me to accompany you on this vacation to the woods to 'talk'? Damn, Thranduil, I thought you were on the verge of letting me go!"

"Let you go?!" His cheeks flushed crimson within seconds, a vivid contrast against his fair complexion.

There was an unfamiliarity to the flush, something so new and alien about it that, despite the gravity of the situation, you found yourself momentarily speechless, captivated more by the sight than the words spoken.

"I thought that we could come to an agreement about the arrangements of your employment status"

"My status?"

Nothing that was said made sense, for either one of you, and the comfort grew into frustration that made it impossible to sit still.

"Yes! Were we not on the same page?" Thranduil's voice got louder and you both flinched as a mother with her stroller walked past and threw you an annoyed look. Thranduil leaned closer, dropping into something close to a whisper: "I wanted to ask you out for like a month now, but it felt awkward since it would have required giving you the evening off or compensating you. Neither option seemed like the ideal foundation for a date, in my opinion," he pressed out between his teeth, tipping his head to the side.

"A date?" you felt stupid for parroting his words- again, but how could you not? This conversation had dragged out for far too long to be your imagination, yet you wouldn't believe that this was happening.

"Yes," he was laughing now, kind of desperate if you were honest.

The touch of his knees against yours became a hand wrapping around your wrist, pulling your hand toward him so that he could lay it onto his open palm.

There were sparkles in your stomach, exploding like fireworks at the soft touch of his skin, warmed from the gloves he had worn on the walk.

"I am mad about you, haven't you realized? Have you any idea how I have to hold myself back whenever I come home and see you on the couch with my children, reading stories or singing movies, dancing around the living room in costumes?"

(You blushed deeply at the memory of that evening, Tauriel had convinced you that her fairy wings would fit you better than her, the pink glitter sticking to your clothes as you twirled around the room just when the elevator doors opened and Thranduil stood in the doorway; his tired and exhausted eyes lightening up at the sight of his daughter- or so you thought)

He continued, staring at your hands as he drew circles with the tip of his fingers. "Leaving for work is only easy because you are there to send me off, and working is only durable because I know that when the doors to the apartment open you will be there. It gets harder though, every time I see you cuddling with Legolas or drawing with Tauriel I have to refrain myself-" he stopped to look up, a coy smile on his lips that were suddenly much harder to ignore in their closeness and allure.

"Else, I'd find myself sinking to my knees before you on the couch, bestowing kisses for 'Hello', 'Goodbye', or simply surrendering to the emotions that have stirred within me since the day you entered my life."

"Well, I can tell you no other boss has greeted me like that," you murmured quietly, uncertain of how else to react.

His fingers continued their subtle dance, now entwined with yours. They melded together seamlessly, like a perfect puzzle, as if their natural state had always been intertwined.

Thranduil chuckled softly, his index finger tapping against his knuckle. "One of the reasons I never acted upon it," he admitted, "was the fear of you dialing the Department of Labor for harassment."

"A kiss wouldn't lead to that," you bit down on your lip again, "Fainting on my side, yes, absolutely, and I have never seen a fainted person make a phone call. And what would I say? Hello, my gorgeous boss, who I have a crush on kissed me? Oh, sad old me. could you maybe find a way to compensate me for something I have dreamed about?"

The moment you said what you said, the words slipped out your mouth faster than you could hold them back and loud enough that you could have pretended that you had mumbled something else.

The shock of Thranduil's admission had opened the pandora box of feelings that you had shoved under terms like 'work ethic' and 'inappropriate salivating over your superior' as if that would make it any easier.

"So we are on the same page," Thranduil smiled, his chest heaved in a relief exhale of air. "I'm glad.. oh, so glad. I would have perished if I had been wrong and all those times I asked you to eat with me you thought 'Great, now I have to spend time with him as well.' That would have been... well, rather disheartening."

You choked on another laugh, "No, no, I never thought something even close to that. Most of the time, I was occupied trying not to scream in excitement while figuring out how I could get rid of the glitter or marker on my arms."

He laughed, but his eyes were honest and he held your hand a little bit tighter, "You must know that you are beautiful in every way, especially covered in feathers and gemstones, couch lint, and flour." His head dropped then, his eyes falling to your lips as he took in your smile and the way you struggled to find words.

"I wish I could kiss you right now," he said instead and the regret was audible in his low voice, "But we should figure everything out before I do."

You understood his point, it would be irresponsible to make out - which a kiss would definitely lead to, after all, you were bursting at the seams just thinking about how his lips would taste.

There were the kids, for once, you couldn't know how they would react at seeing the nanny kiss their father without being spoken to first and then, there was the whole thing of him being your boss.

Instead of kissing him, you just nodded. "Of course. Mister Oropherion, I hereby tell you that I plan to resign. It was lovely working for you but this is not where I see myself in a few years."

His face had morphed into the professional that you had met all those months ago in that little restaurant, older yet not by much, less exhausted and happiness in those blue eyes of his that you would spend hours staring into.

Your last name still sounded unfamiliar on his tongue, you had instantly offered your first name for him to use- an order he gladly followed, the only exception being the nicknames you doted on.

"I'll make sure to have the papers ready in the afternoon," Thranduil said in a matter of business, "And there will be a bottle of wine, perhaps? To celebrate?"

You glanced around, making sure that no one was watching before lifting your hands and breathing a soft kiss onto his fingers, relishing the first taste of him.

"I would very much like that"

"Ada!" came the sudden yell of Legolas, and in the blink of an eye the boy ran toward you, coming out of nowhere and the rest of the sentence, whatever Thranduil had wanted to say, never crossed his lips that now spread into a wide smile at the sight of his son.

"Ada, you have to push us on the swings!"

Legolas jumped in front of you, fisting his gloves into your coat and pulling your attention onto him, cheeks all flushed red and blonde hair standing to all sides- he seemed to have lost his hat.

"You can push me and Ada can push Tauriel, and then can we go eat ice cream? There was a boy that said that his mom would buy him ice cream and let him ride the carousel, and–"

Thranduil laughed and raised a hand to smooth down the flyaway strands of hair. "Alright, alright, Las. Lead the way"

The boy immediately turned, tugging you with him at the seam of your coat into the direction of the pair of swings where his sister already waited, her hat lost in the sand as well.

That would be a problem for later, for now, you just followed Legolas and turned your head to see Thranduil catching up to you.

His hand brushed yours as he passed you, his legs much longer than yours and his coat free from the impatient drag of a child.

"Race you!"

There was more laughter echoing over the playground as you and Legolas chased after his father, their blonde hair flying in the wind, sand slipping into your boots, and the red scarf around your neck fluttering.

Later, when the children were asleep in their bed, tugged under their blankets, and exhausted from the day, Thranduil would bring out your contract, ready for your signature of resignation.

He would wait until you sign next to him, the pen just barely lifted from the paper before his lips would capture yours in a soft kiss; his hands resting on your waist as you fall on top of him on the couch.

There would be wine and kisses just as sweet, quiet laughter as to not wake the children, hushed giggles when you would follow him to his bedroom, his hand in yours.

Right now though, you swept up Legolas into your arms and dashed through the sand.

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