It Had To Be Done...

It had to be done...

A FRESH START [22]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: panic attack, trauma reaction, mentions of injuries, nonsexual nudity

Word Count: 5,935

Updates every Thursday

Summary: When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night, you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you fall more and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly head you find that perhaps peace wasn’t meant for everyone.

[a/n: i was forced to shorten the taglist for the sake of my sanity. tumblr won't let me post with more than certain number. I think that's why I've had the hardest time with this shit. I made it a first come, first served so if your username got dropped I am so so so sorry but that's why.]

#22: LIKE FATHER, LIKE SON

"i find my place in between your arms, in between your tender kisses and soft whispers of 'it will be alright', in between the warmth of your embrace, and the scent of your neck, and the fierceness of your touch, i find my place lost inside your soul." -Hearts and Empires

Din was immensely proud of your skills as a physician. However, if you didn’t get your ass out of the damn medic tent he was going to throw you over his shoulder and carry you home forcibly. More than anything, you needed rest. He wasn’t able to convince you to stop working and because the medical aid had yet to arrive no one else sided with him on these matters. Karga had the nerve to tell him to calm down. Din had nearly wrung the High Magistrate’s neck.

He watched as you flittered around the medical tent aiding those who were injured alongside Aayla. Grogu had refused to leave your side, and that didn’t seem to bother you at all. Right now, as if you weren’t exhausted and barely standing, you had a sling wrapped around your chest which held Grogu against your back. Din could see the little boy resting his head against your back while rubbing your shoulder with his small hand. The sight warmed his heart and Din would be tempted to snap a picture to save if it weren’t for the state of your being. Your scrubs were still stained with blood and you had yet to clean your own wounds. It was stressing Din out to watch you working so hard when you were still in the state you were in.

While turning to see someone else, Din noticed you wavering on your feet. That was enough. He pushed forward and pressed through the injured crowd straight to you. “Hey.” You turned to meet his gaze. “It’s time to go home. You’re barely able to stand.”

“I can’t⏤”

“Ner kar’ta.” Din said firmly.

You sighed. “Alright. Fine.” Your shoulders sagged. “I guess I am a little tired.” Din shook his head, a quiet chuckle slipping from his lips. Your small smile turned sheepish and Din dreaded whatever it was you were going to say next. “I need to make sure Nima has cleared the tarmac though so the medical team can park.”

“What?”

“We need to get⏤”

Din reached his gloved hands out to cup your face. At the contact, the rest of your words fell away. He leaned forward and spoke firmly. “We’re going home. You need to rest. Somebody⏤ Anybody else can do the rest of the work here.” He let his thumb trace your cheekbone. Din wished he could feel your skin against his. “Have you managed all the emergency cases?”

“I mean, yeah, but⏤”

“Then it’s time to take care of yourself.” Din finished.

Your lips pressed together and gave him a small nod. Din let out a breath of relief. Without wasting another moment, Din slipped his hand into yours and began to drag you away before someone could distract you with a new job. Just having your hand in his was a comfort he couldn’t even begin to describe. During his travels, he imagined what his reunion with you would look like often. Never did he imagine karking pirates would be involved, but this feeling in his chest he had anticipated. He knew being back by your side would feel like coming home. In fact, he may have underestimated how strongly the reunion would make him feel⏤ which was quite the feat considering how badly he craved it.

Din stepped into the shared home and he couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief.

“Frog. Frog.” Grogu chirped. He turned in time to see you untangling the boy from the sling to set on the ground. Grogu bounded further into the room probably to look for his stuffed toy.

Din focused back on you and his heart ached at the exhaustion painted on your face. Not wasting another moment, Din ripped off his gloves, tossing them aside, and reached out to cup your face. You let out a shuddering breath when his skin came in contact with his and Din felt that last tinge of stress leave his body. You were safe. It felt more real like this.

“Are you still allowed to take this off to kiss me?” You asked. Din couldn’t tell if your quiet voice came from a meekness or just the weariness of your last 24 hours.

“Yes.” Din chuckled. “We just need to be more careful.”

Technically speaking, it would be best if he didn’t take his helmet off anymore. Having you close your eyes was not the most ideal of plans. Accidents could happen, and more than anything it was just a loophole in his Creed. However, Din would give up vital organs before he gave up the gift and honor that was kissing you.

You closed your eyes and Din lifted one of his hands so he could lightly trace your bruised and dirty features. He hummed, “You’re injured and tired. We should take care of that first.”

“Literally nothing is more important to me right now than this.” You replied.

Din hardly needed further convincing. Removing his hands from your face had been painful⏤ even knowing that it was only for a moment so he could take his helmet off. Without the barrier between you and him, your injuries looked worse. The dark coloring of the bruising and the red of the blood was so much more prominent. Din could see bags under your eyes he hadn’t noticed before. With a quiet sigh, Din cupped your face once more.

“Ni ceta.” Din mumbled soft apologies. He leaned in to press his lips first against your left eyelid then your right. He continued to pepper soft kisses across your cheek until they found your lips. Din would be a liar if he said he hadn’t spent every single night while gone imagining what your lips would feel like on his return. And, just as with the reunion, his mental image did not do the moment justice. Din had pictured passion and heat, a battle between one another to devour the other first, but this kiss was not that.

This kiss was soft, tender, and patient.

Three things that Din never got to call his own, living a life of battle in armor of Beskar.

Your lower lip was slotted between both of his and as he gave it a gentle tug you released a shaky sigh. The sound struck him like a hot iron and Din couldn’t help but breathe you in. He pulled you closer so your body was flush with his, let the tip of his tongue trace the shape of your lip, as he deepened the kiss. Din allowed desperation to seep into his very touch. It couldn’t be helped. Din was desperate. He was desperate to feel your very alive heartbeat under his touch. He was desperate for the warmth you exuded. He was desperate to show you how thankful he was for your safety. He was desperate for you to know how proud he was of you. He was desperate for you to know how sorry he was for not being here.

Din was desperate, and it was all for you.

“Ni ceta, ner kar’ta.” Din spoke directly against your lips. Nothing short of the Maker would tear him away from you. Your own hands lifted and when he felt your fingers rake against his scalp, tug on his hair, Din’s repeated apology fell out in a groan. Din dragged his lips along your jawline, taking the time to leave a kiss on every inch. Eventually, his lips found your neck and he left kisses over the darkened bruise there. “I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault.” You replied in a hoarse whimper.

Din disagreed entirely. He should’ve been here. He never should have left your side. You flinched when his lips touched a spot more tender than the rest. It was barely noticeable. In fact, he wouldn’t have realized you flinched at all if it wasn’t for your body being pressed so tightly to his. It was enough to remind him that you still needed care and rest. Din pressed one last kiss against your lips⏤ innocent and loving. When he pulled back you let out a whine of complaints. Din reached down to grasp his helmet and pulled it back on.

He leaned forward to rest the beskar against your forehead and at the touch your eyes opened once more. More than anything, Din wanted to see the color of your eyes unhindered by his visor. Even with the helmet on he found your eyes mesmerizing but the visor always muted colors. It seemed fitting if he thought about it. Even with the loophole of taking his helmet off, with your eyes closed a part of you stayed hidden to him. Just as he was hidden to you.

“Let me take a look at your wounds.”

“No.” You said and Din furrowed his brow. As if reading his displeasure at the response, you shook your head and clarified. “I meant, not now. I want to take a shower first. I need to.”

Din found it hard to argue against that. You wouldn’t be able to fully relax until the day was washed from your skin. He nodded and walked you further into the house. He kept one hand on your lower back, and Din loved that you kept pace with him. It wasn’t as if you didn’t know where the bathroom was, but the action made it feel like you were just as desperate as he was to stay in the other’s presence.

Grogu waddled out of the hall, dragging his stuffed frog behind him, just as the two of them reached the mouth of the hallway. He held his hands up, chirping out a request to be held, and Din knelt down to scoop the boy up before you could. Grogu blew a raspberry at him. “No buir. Need Ma.”

“I know, ad’ika.” Din replied. “But Ma has to take a shower.”

Grogu grumbled in protest, but when you reached out to lovingly pet the boy’s head Grogu was marginally appeased. As you drifted to the bathroom, Din gathered a fresh towel for you and he also grabbed one of his shirts for you to change into. A decision made solely to relieve the itch in his brain that needed to see you safe in his bed wearing his clothes, but you accepted both items with a tired smile.

When the door shut and he heard the water kick on, Din blew out a breath of relief. He glanced down at Grogu who was still staring at the bathroom door. “It’s good to be home, isn’t it ad’ika?”

“Home with Ma.” Grogu nodded in agreement.

“Right.” Din chuckled. “We’re home with Ma.”

The hot water pelted your back and left your skin radiating heat. You had washed your hair, begun to wash your body, but midway through you dropped the bottle of soap. As you knelt down to pick it up, you suddenly had a flash of kneeling beside Wynn’s dead body. It sucked the air straight from your lungs and knocked you to your ass. Now you sat under the unrelenting stream of water with your legs curled up to your chest⏤ gasping in distress. Any air you did manage to fill your lungs with was uncomfortable and brought no relief. It felt like you were suffocating.

A choked sob left your lips as you buried your face in your arms as they rested atop your knees. No matter how much you tried to turn your tired mind off, it continued to ruminate on the decisions you made. If you hadn’t forced Wynn to leave, would she still be alive? She wanted to wait for help. You felt trapped in this memory. A loop of telling Wynn she needed to run followed by watching the life leave her eyes right in front of you. You could still feel the warmth of her hot blood while holding her wound⏤ still feel the snapping of her ribs during the course of your desperate CPR. All useless. You didn’t save her. You sent her to her death.

The sensation of having a towel thrown over your shoulders was startling. Your head snapped up to see Din knelt beside you. The shower head was off, Din’s gray pajama shirt plastered to his body on the side from water, and just behind him you could see the bathroom door hanging off it’s hinges.

“Ner kar’ta.” Din’s voice was rough. “Please talk to me.”

“Din?” You gasped. He had the large towel wrapped entirely around your body covering every inch of you. “What⏤ I don’t understand⏤”

“I heard something fall. I called out for you, over and over, but you didn’t respond.” Din replied. His voice took a sheepish tone. “I⏤I broke through the door.” He let his arms run over the towel covering your arms, giving them a squeeze. “Found you like this. Even when I turned the water off you still didn’t…”

It was the sight of your reflection in his visor and helmet that seemed to push you over your edge. Tears welled in your eyes and once the first ragged sob left your lips it was followed quickly by a string of others. Despite the fact that you were sitting on a tiled floor soaked with puddles, Din sat down right beside you and cautiously pulled you into his arms. You tucked yourself against his chest, and he fully enveloped you with his arms while resting his head on top of yours.

“It’s okay. You’re safe.” Din murmured. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head. Your sobs only interrupted by the sound of your lungs gasping for air. Din tightened his arms around you, a feat you didn’t know was possible, and you found comfort in his solid form. Din was here. Din made everything better. You weren’t sure how long the two of you sat there, but eventually Din mumbled softly, “We need to get you dressed. You’ll be cold soon.” You didn’t tell him that you’d never feel cold in his hold. “Need to treat your wounds too.”

Din helped you stand. He cautiously led you out of the shower, arm around your torso, and he stopped you in front of the bathroom counter. “I’m going to get the first aid kit from the kitchen. Are you going to be alright?”

You nodded. Din paused, as if hesitant, before returning the nod and moving toward the door. He mumbled a curse under his breath, you could hear it, and then he grabbed the large chunks of the door that had broken off when he rammed it to set aside where nobody would trip over them. While he was out, you grabbed his shirt and tugged it on⏤ using the damp towel to try and pat dry the dripping ends of your hair. Din returned, his visor scanning your body, before he settled beside you again.

With a focused intensity, Din applied a bit of bacta to the wound at your hairline and then rubbed some of it into the bruise around your neck as well. In the midst of his work, you whispered, “Wynn is dead.” Din’s fingers paused in their motion, surprise reading in his frame, but he was quick to return his movements and stance back to baseline. “She’s dead and I didn’t tell anybody. I forgot to tell someone.” Tears returned to your eyes. “I just left her in the street, Din. I left her like she meant nothing.”

“Hey.” Din said firmly. “This was during the firefight, was it not?” You nodded in confirmation. “You had no choice, ner kar’ta. That wasn’t your fault.”

“I think it was.” Your words fell out a pained whisper.

Din’s hands lifted to cradle your face and you leaned into his touch. It felt like he wanted to say something, but he paused. Instead, Din tangled his hand with yours and pulled you out of the bathroom. He didn’t ask, didn’t even hesitate, to pull you into his room. The moment you entered you heard Grogu’s familiar snores and it was such a comforting sound to hear after weeks sleeping in silence that you nearly cried. Din pulled back the covers and helped you slide in.

Rather than follow you into bed, he took a step back and the look on your face must have been obvious enough that he reached out to caress your face. “I’m coming back. I need to change clothes.”

Your eyes focused on the large wet stains from where you had been curled up into him. Din crossed the room and your eyes widened and bit when he began to pull his shirt off. His movements were confident and it warmed your heart that he was comfortable enough with you to reveal himself like this. Your eyes trailed over the expanse of his muscular back⏤ admiring the rugged lines of his broad shoulders and the various scars that littered his skin. Din pulled a new shirt on and you expected him to come back. Instead, Din began to pull off his sweatpants. Slowly, you sat up, pulling the sheets closer to you, and you couldn’t help but let your eyes trace the shape of his lower half. You were blatantly ogling this man in his boxer briefs as he tugged on a new pair of sweats. Before turning back around, you saw him pick up his vambrace, pressing a few buttons, before setting it down once more.

Din turned around, tying the strings at his waistband, and he chuckled. His voice came out as teasing and light hearted. Clearly trying to put you at ease. “Are you checking me out, ner kar’ta?”

“I missed you so much.” You replied. Too tired, physically and emotionally, to tease back the way that you wanted to. Instead, the truth tumbled out of your lips.

He came back around to the bed and slipped under the sheets. As Din’s arm wrapped around your waist, you let him pull you back into laying down. You shifted so your head rested on his chest and Din began to drag his knuckles up and down your spine. “I missed you too. Being away from you was unbearable for Grogu and I both.” Din hummed. “He tried to stay up for you, but passed out. Grogu didn’t sleep well last night. I think my anxiety kept him up.” Your hand was resting on his side⏤ fingers dragging up and down his ribs. You mumbled into his chest. Din’s hand, the one rubbing your back, trailed up to rake through your hair. “I want to talk.”

“About?” You mumbled.

“Ner kar’ta.”

You let out a soft chuckle. “Din…”

“You don’t have to talk to me, you don’t have to tell me anything, but…” Din sighed, “I’d like to know. I want to help.” He massaged the back of your neck right where it met your skull and all your tension sat. A soft sigh left your body as you relaxed in his arms. “I sent Karga a message about Wynn. They’re going to find her. Put her to rest.” You buried your face down into his chest knowing your tears would dampen his new shirt all over again. “I just want to help.”

After a few moments of peaceful silence where you listened to Grogu’s snores and Din’s heartbeat, you turned so your face wasn’t pressed into his chest and you could speak. Hesitantly, you began to tell him what happened⏤ starting with the bombs that fell on Nevarro and ending with Paz leading you out of the burning city as you carried Elodie. The entire time Din didn’t speak. He’d mumble an acknowledgement or hum here and there, but he made no comment.

When you finished, Din finally spoke up, “Tell me why you said what you did. You said what happened to Wynn was your fault.”

“She didn’t want to go. She wanted to stay hidden and wait for help.” You closed your eyes tightly as the memory of Wynn’s lifeless eyes assaulted you once more. “If I had listened to her she might be alive. Help did come. I⏤I should have been more patient.”

“Ner kar’ta, you made that decision based on the limited information you had. You didn’t know I was coming and bringing help. Where the three of you were hidden wasn’t safe. If one of the pirates did discover you, you’d be pinned down in a hole.” Din spoke with a firmness that left no room for argument. “In that moment, you made the best decision you could. You made the right decision.” He used the arm not around you to grasp your chin and tilt your head up so you were facing his visor. “Listen to me, ner kar’ta. That was not your fault. You did not take Wynn’s life, she gave it to save Elodie. Wynn is a hero. Don’t take that from her by shouldering needless blame.”

There was something about the way Din spoke that resonated with you. His words calmed the turmoil in your soul. Din could repeat the same sentiment that anyone else would speak, but when it came from his lips it soothed your wounds like a salve. He couldn’t heal everything, there was self reflection only you could puzzle through, but he was a hand to hold as you waded through the worst of it.

“Din…” You started. Before you finished your sentence, it occurred to you that the words you wanted to say were significant. You wanted to tell Din you loved him. That’s what you felt right now. It was overwhelming. It was all encompassing.

Din still had his hand at your chin and he let his large hand shift from your chin to your jaw. He held the side of your face and let his thumb trace patterns in your skin. “Yes, ner kar’ta?”

Saying those words felt like quite the leap. You were confident in the way you felt about him and how he felt about you, but there was a part of you that couldn’t quite push the words out. You were too mentally wiped out to process those thoughts right now. Not knowing how else to express how grateful you were for this man, you turned your face so you could press a kiss to the palm of his hand.

Din let out a content sigh and he shifted his body so you could rest more comfortably against him. He hummed and you heard the rumble of it in his chest. “Get some rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.” He went back to soothingly dragging his fingers up and down your spine. “I’ll always be here.”

You let your eyes close and took a slow breath as Din’s warmth and the comforting smell of him lulled you into the best sleep you’ve gotten since Din and Grogu left.

Nevarro was in pieces. Rubble decorated the streets and buildings were in shambles. Despite how terrible it looked, Din couldn’t help but be proud of the citizens of the city he looked after. They were strong. Nevarro was already healing only days after the attack. Din walked down the street with Grogu in his arms. The boy was squirming, wanting to get down, but with the rubble and debris Din didn’t want him wandering around. As he walked down the street, every once in a while a person would pause to thank him for bringing help⏤ bringing the Mandalorians. Din would nod in response, but it would shoot a pang of guilt through his chest. He didn’t deserve thanks. He had left them after all.

Din’s steps slowed as he began to pass the school house. Outside of the building, a memorial had been set up for Wynn. Candles, flowers, and cards covered the front steps and Din found himself letting out a sigh. The school teacher was a hero. Din meant that seriously when he spoke to you. It hadn’t been your fault, absolutely not, and both you and Wynn were the reason Elodie was alive and well. Her and her parents were currently off world. The little girl needed more intensive care than could be provided here, but last Din heard the child was doing very well.

“Miss?” Grogu mumbled. Din recognized the title Grogu would call his teacher.

“Yes, ad’ika.” Din confirmed. Grogu’s ears wilted as he stared at the memorial. Din rubbed Grogu’s back and began to walk again with the goal to reach the clinic. You had left home early to go to work. You’d be there for any emergencies, per the norm, but you were also using today to see many of the people who were injured the day of for follow up. To ensure everyone was healing as they should. Din was of the opinion that you needed more rest, if not physical then mental, but trying to convince you of that was a near impossibility.

When Din reached the corner, Bo Katan pushed off a wall to join his pace. Her helmet was tucked under her arm. The Armorer had announced that the Mandalorians needed to come together rather than fall apart. It was a sentiment he could understand. Mayfeld had asked him about the helmet situation. Mandalorians coming together was a good idea, Din agreed, but coming to coincide with one another didn’t change the Creed he had dedicated himself to.

“Once this place gets cleaned up, I can see it being a nice place to live. To settle.” Bo hummed. Din nodded once, and she glanced his way. “I’m glad your partner is safe.”

“Thank you.” Din replied sincerely.

“There is something I’d like to speak to you about.”

“I figured.” He said. “Does this have anything to do with retaking Mandalore?”

Bo chuckled, “Good guess.”

“What about it?”

“Well,” Bo kept by his side, “Is there anything I can say that will convince you to come with me to reclaim my fleet from Axe Woves?”

Din didn’t pause even a beat when he answered. “No. There isn’t.”

Bo sighed in annoyance and Din briefly felt guilt at the waves of frustration wafting off of Bo’s tense frame. Half of him felt like it was his duty to help in any way to restore Mandalore, but the other half could not even begin to fathom leaving you again. It occurred to Din that this might be selfish of him. His people needed him, right? He locked his jaw at the thought.

“Your help would make this all go smoother, I think. We make a good team.” Bo said.

Din chuckled, “Did that hurt you to admit?”

“It did.” Bo smirked. “Which is why you should take it seriously.”

Din paused when the clinic came into view. He turned to face Bo and shook his head. “It’s not that I don’t want to help. Retaking Mandalore is a noble endeavor. One I would be honored to help in.” He paused. “But my family is here. I got lucky during that attack. I... I almost lost her.”

“I understand that.” Bo replied. “I know the weight of what I’m asking you, Djarin. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think it was important.”

Din glanced back to the clinic and did a double take when he saw you coming out. A smile began to form on his features, but it fell when he watched Paz walk out behind her with Ragnar by his side. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You were wearing your white coat, a look Din truly loved on you, and Paz was chatting with you about something. Something that made you laugh in response. Since when was Paz funny?

“Didn’t know you were the jealous kind, Djarin.” Bo chuckled.

Din snapped a glare at her. “I’m not jealous.”

“It’s all over your face.”

“I’m wearing a helmet.”

“Yet somehow I still know it is.”

Din grunted in mild annoyance. He wasn’t jealous. Per say. It was just like with Vanth. Din was confident enough in his relationship with you, even as undefined as it currently was, that he wasn’t worried about someone sweeping you away. Din just had a bad habit of accidentally letting his possessive nature show and there was something about seeing his brother flirt with you that stirred him into wanting to fight.

Both you and Paz glanced down at Ragnar who must have been speaking and you set a hand on the boy’s shoulder with a smile.

“Hm. They’d make a cute family.” Bo teased.

“Stop.” Din snapped.

He was caught off guard when Grogu jumped out of his arms. Him and Bo quickly followed after the boy who was in a mad rush toward you. Din watched as his son shoved past Ragnar, making the boy stumble enough that Din had a feeling the Force was involved, before leaping into your arms.

“Oh, hey, baby.” You cooed.

“Ma. My Ma.” Grogu cuddled into your arms while shooting Ragnar a glare.

Bo glanced at Din. “Aw. Like father, like son.”

Din wished he could take his helmet off just so Bo could see the full weight of the glare he currently wore. He continued forward until your eyes shot to him and the bright smile that filled your features just from spotting him.

“What are you guys doing here?” You asked.

“Just checking in on you.” Din replied. Bo cleared her throat and Din sighed before nodding his head toward the woman standing beside him. “This is Bo Katan Kryze. Bo, this is Soran.”

You held your hand out to shake Bo’s hand and the red headed woman returned the greeting. Paz let one of his large hands settle on your shoulder and Din felt himself bristle at the motion. His older brother chuckled. “No need to worry. Wero’ika is doing more than fine.”

“Yeah, Paz brought me a late breakfast.” You chirped.

Yeah, okay, Din was going to murder him.

“Oh, hang on,” You glanced over your shoulder, “I see a problem patient walking in. I’m not gonna subject Aayla to that.”

Din nodded once and you shot Bo and Paz a smile, squeezing Ragnar’s shoulder as well despite Grogu’s complaints, and then you turned to leave. As soon as you were inside the clinic, Din turned to Paz with a grunt. “Wero’ika? What the kriff is that?”

“A nickname, Djarin.”

“Mir’sheb.” Din snarled and Paz laughed in response. Ragnar tugged on his father’s arm before pointing off to the side. Paz nodded, telling him to be cautious, before the boy ran off to play with a group of kids down the street.

Bo chuckled. “I didn’t realize this was the beginning of a love triangle. Interesting.”

“It isn’t.” Din said.

Paz tilted his head and crossed his arms. “I’m unaware of Soran being in possession of a token of intention.”

“I’m working on it.” Din said through clenched teeth.

“Perhaps, I’ll work on it faster.”

Din knew Paz was just trying to get under his skin. Part of his frustration was the fact that it was working. His hands drifted to rest on his hips as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. Paz was smug. Din had known him long enough to recognize the set of his shoulders.

“I’m⏤” Din began then cleared his throat. “I’m giving her time.”

“You’re wasting her time.” Paz argued with a chuckle. “Wero’ika⏤”

“Don’t call her that like you know her.” Din cut in. “A lot just happened. I’m not going to rush her into anything.”

He glanced from Paz to Bo then back to Paz. Din gave the man a gruff good-bye before pushing past the two of them to head into the clinic. He greeted Miriam at the front desk. Before he could cross the threshold into the main room, the young woman caught his attention and let him know that you were down the hall instead. Din furrowed his brow in confusion, but walked down to find you sitting in the break room snipping the sutures off a patient’s wound.

“Marshal.” The patient greeted with a nod that Din returned.

Grogu was playing with a latex glove on the counter while you worked. You shot him a smile before focusing back on your work. Din settled beside his son, leaning against the counter, and just admired you with a sense of calm. He wondered if Paz was right. Not a line he’d ever say out loud, but Din wondered if he was just finding another excuse to hide behind. He wasn’t sure what he was so afraid of. You’ve made your interest in him very clear, the two of you shared a bond like he’d never experienced before, but still he hesitated.

“Alright, it looks good. No need to restrict yourself, but if it starts bothering you again just let me know.” You smiled. The patient thanked you, gave him a final good-bye, then left. You wandered over to where he stood with Grogu and began to wash your hands in the sink. “Hey, so your brother seems cool.”

Din grunted. “Who Paz?”

“Yeah.” You turned the faucet off and grabbed a few paper towels. “I thought he might not like me because I yelled at him during the battle.” Din’s eyes widened. He’d have to ask about that. “But instead I think I accidentally earned his respect? Also, what does ‘wero’ika’ mean?”

Din chuckled. “Little Problem.”

Your jaw fell open. “He’s been calling me a little problem this entire time?” Din nodded. “Son of a bitch. I’m gonna need you to teach me something amusing and mildly rude to call him in return.”

“Oh, I can think of some names for him.” Din replied. He cleared his throat. “I, uh, wanted to talk to you about something, but don’t feel any pressure with this, alright?” You quirked an eyebrow at him. Your eyes briefly glanced at Grogu and you shot your hand out to snatch the latex glove from Grogu’s mouth and wagged a finger at him. “I left to redeem myself. To restore my Creed with the plans to…” Din shifted awkwardly. “To court you.” The corner of your lips curled up. “I know a lot has happened recently, so again there is no pressure here, but I wanted to…make my intentions known.”

You reached out and wrapped your hand above his elbow, between his armor plates, and gave it a small squeeze. “Din, I appreciate your patience and concern, but I⏤ I want this. I want you.” He sucked in a sharp breath. “So, just tell me how we do this. How does Mandalorian courting work? Do I sign on the dotted line or…?”

Din laughed, in part due to relief, “No. Nothing like that. I have…” He reached to the back of his belt to unhook the blade and sheath that was once his. Din brought it around to hold out to you and you stared at the blade curiously. “In Mandalorian custom, a token of intention is given to the person being courted and to accept it means accepting those advances.” Din cleared his throat again. Maker, his mouth was dry. “Tokens are usually a weapon with the person’s signet on it.”

He pulled the blade out of the sheath enough that you were able to see the mudhorn etched into the blade’s side. Din tucked the blade back into the sheath and gave you a small nod. With a bright smile, you took the blade from his hands and he felt like his heart was going to explode in his chest watching you run your finger against the mudhorn.

You held the blade against your chest and nodded. “I accept, Mandalorian.”

Grogu began to clap his hands together and you broke out into laughter that relaxed every single bone and muscle in his body. The only regret Din had was not doing this at home where he could pull his helmet off and kiss you.

mando'a translations:

ni ceta: sorry wero'ika: little problem ner kar'ta: my heart mir'sheb: smartass

taglist:

@aheadfullofsteverogers @yyiikes @kneelforloki @c-ms1ut @sgt-morgan @luthienaliceisilra @missbabyjay @coldlamaspersonspy @dilfsaremyfavourite @emily-roberts @djarinxore @impala1967666 @shelbyteller @faithrenner @dindjarindude @dankfarrick29 @garbo-lesbo @anythingforattention @tearfulsolace @onceinamando @catharinaroxastova @modiddys-blog @harriedandharassed @stagerightlauren @mini-bees @adoringanakin @sagegreensensei @spidey-3 @thepascalofus @hrtsforpascal @lil-dragon-draws @guccistardust @ideajpeg @leithatnight @elfamosotoga @damnzelsoul @the-anchored-sailor-girl @morks-watermelon @katelynmarieyt @taylorann2013 @chonkercatto @dheet @liadamerondjarin @fallinallinmendes @missdicaprio @jennaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa @alphaash99 @djarinsmixtape @pcrushinnerd @closedaddition

714 notes View Post

mirimim

1 year ago

He Is Everything To Me. Everyone Says: "thank You Amy"

He is everything to me. Everyone says: "thank you Amy"

amydorkingphotography

Steam III

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x f!reader

Genre: ATLA au, enemies(?) to lovers, forbidden romance, royalty au

General Warnings: violence (bending fights), injuries (mentions of broken bones, burns, blood, bruises), alcohol consumption, mentions of prostitutionSmut Warnings: multiple smut scenes, fingering, dry humping, slight exhibitionism, oral sex (f & m receiving), unprotected sex, handjob, hair pulling, marking, virgin!reader, wonwoo has a tiny bit of a corruption kink

Length: ~15.4k | Fic Length: ~64k

Credits: banner: @caelesjjk and @shadowkoo | betas: @tomodachiii @miniseokminnies @gyuswhore @haologram and @wqnwoos

Note: part 3 lets gooooo. crazy that this'll all be over soon. i hope yall enjoy the chaos and more shenanigans from two dumbies in love

summary: Wonwoo is the best fire bender in Capitol City. Or he is. But a water bender he's never seen before changes everything.

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

If you hadn’t respected your grandmother so much you would’ve killed her for throwing you to the wolves. It was the inevitable end to the week's festivities, finding a husband. But so far, none the men brought forth sparked any reaction other than disdain and disgust.

You hated it. You hated them. You hated the entire ordeal of selling yourself off like a prized calf at auction, batting your eyelashes and giggling at unfunny jokes.

But it was your duty. Whether you liked it or not, it had to be done.

That fact repeated in your mind like a mantra as another suitor fumbled through a story about his opinions on nothing.

However, no matter how hard you tried to focus on the men in front of you, all you could think about was the one standing off to the side behind you.

Wonwoo hadn’t mentioned the books you gifted him the previous night; one as an apology for Maoki’s childish behavior, the other as a thank you for taking you to the Lower Block. There wasn’t much time for conversation between the fiasco of the talent show and the early morning appointment with your seamstress he was forced to wait outside of. Maybe after lunch you would have the opportunity. Your copy of The Pearls of Drak was better off with someone who could appreciate it, but the Poems of Stars was a spontaneous choice to throw in.

That particular copy stayed by your side since childhood, filled with smudged annotations, tear stains and bleeding ink from spilled drinks. You knew the verses by heart yet returned back to it again and again. For some reason, you wanted Wonwoo to read it. More than just the poems, you wanted him to read your copy; see if he found the same meanings you did. If he shed tears at “The Moon’s Widow”, or laughed at the old man in “The Constable”, or if he found “The Belle Dame” as beautiful as you did.

“And Capital City is fine, but the country is where children should be raised. Where they can run and play and learn in the great outdoors. I love the outdoors. Earth beneath your feet…”

Your grandmother meant for it to be an informal tea party. Chatting with multiple men at a time; a convenient way to ease into the courting process considering there were so many suitors to consider, to call upon them individually would take weeks. But the men talked over one another or attempted to subtly block each other from your view so you were forced to receive them one at a time at a table in the corner, a long queue spiraling through the chamber.

You assured it moved rather swiftly.

Duke Zul continued to droll on about his disdain for the city and how the countryside was far superior in all merits. He was old. Too old. As if he was around to witness the mountains form and the oceans rise.

“My apologies, Your Grace.” You smiled; the perfect picture of a demure princess. “But we seem to be out of time.”

The duke blinked, shocked by the interruption. He probably forgot you were there considering you hadn’t spoken since he sat down. It was a nice break from repeating the same set of sentences over and over again like a parrot but it didn’t help the throbbing vein in your temple.

Unfortunately, the moment Zul abandoned his seat, someone else stepped forward to take it.

“Your Highness.” Jao bowed so deeply the hem of his coat swept against the marble floor. A ridiculous shade of green that would only look fashionable on him.

“My Lord,” you greeted in return. “Please sit.”

Flopping into the chair, Jao nibbled on the almond cookies spread on the table before scanning your figure boldly. “Forgive me for being so bold but, you look ravishing this morning.”

“How presumptuous,” you snickered. Jao sang like a dying bird but he always managed to make you laugh.

He picked a piece of lint off his shoulder. “I must say, I’m unimpressed by my competition. They all seem so…plain.”

Jao’s attendance was more for appearances than anything else. He was the spare and could do as he pleased, who he pleased; those who pleased him were decidedly male. Everyone knew it. But his family was powerful and no one made a peep when he demanded time with an old friend.

“Yes, it takes a man of character to wear orange trousers and a green shirt.” You hid your smile in a teacup.

“I’ll have you know this is the style in the Earth Kingdom.”

“I was unaware the Earth Kingdom was so fond of circus clowns.”

Jao’s brow furrowed. “My brother has been on the throne for ten years and you didn’t know?”

“My deepest apologies.” You dunked one of the cookies in your own tea and bit off the corner.

“I’ll forgive you,” Jao said. “Now, how about we go down to the sages and get this entire ordeal over with? This hard to get game is starting to lose its charm.”

“I—“ you started.

“Your Highness,” Wonwoo interrupted, eyes trained suspiciously on Jao. “You have a meeting.”

“I do?” you asked, eyes wide. There were plenty of meetings happening but none required your presence. Your grandmother made sure of it.

Wonwoo nodded slowly, dragging his eyes away from Jao and setting them on you. “Yes. Now. With Minister Vasa.”

There was no Minister Vasa at the palace this week. There was no Minister Vasa in the history of the kingdom. What was Wonwoo doing?

“Right…Minister Vasa. Sorry, Jao, I must go.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” Jao nodded before leaning close, “When you're done with your guard, send him my way.”

“You are horrible,” you whispered.

“Horribly in love,” Jao sighed, snagging another cookie before skittering off.

The line of men groaned in objection as you passed but you ignored every single one of them, cooing empty pleasing words to soothe them. There were more important things to take care of. Like whatever game Wonwoo was playing at.

Out in the hallway, you rounded on him. “Is there a reason I have a meeting with Minister Vasa all of a sudden?”

He had the sense to look embarrassed and a little guilty; ears red, throating bobbing as he swallowed. You tried to object when he grabbed your elbow and steered you further down the hallway away from the room filled with eavesdropping lordlings.

Around the next corner, he finally released you and spoke. “You looked uncomfortable. I was trying to help.”

You blinked in shock. You hadn’t thought about Wonwoo paying attention during your meetings even with him a few feet away. The thoughts you had about his opinions were limited to his amusement at seeing you paraded around, the comments from royals with barely enough brain cells to function. You hadn’t considered he was watching you during the entire ordeal.

You took a step closer, backing him towards the wall. “You think Jao made me uncomfortable?”

“He asked you to elope with him!” Wonwoo argued.

“Jao is a harmless flirt.” Another step forward, and Wonwoo’s back hit the wall. He didn’t seem to notice.

Wonwoo grumbled. “He didn’t seem harmless.”

You stepped closer, leaving barely an inch of space between you. “You don’t think I could handle Jao myself?”

Wonwoo seemed to finally realize the position he was in, eyes widening when your hands rested on his chest. “You’re right, he probably needed someone to protect him from you.”

“Oh, I’m just sooo terrifying, aren’t I?” Your eyes locked on his mouth.

He dipped his head, lips brushing your ear as he spoke. “I heard you have a nasty habit of freezing men to walls.”

“Baseless rumors,” you said breathlessly, barely an inch away from kissing him.

Down the corridor, shoes shuffled along the floor, knocking you from whatever trace possessed you to kiss Wonwoo in the hallway where anyone could see.

They were distant but gaining swiftly. Afraid it was someone coming to speak with you about how rude it was to leave your own party early, you searched for somewhere – anywhere – to hide. Luckily, you recognized the woodland tapestry on the far wall and pulled it aside, shoving Wonwoo behind it before joining him. He tried to speak but you silenced him with a finger against his mouth.

“Why are we in the dark?” Wonwoo whispered, lips dragging against your finger. The words tickled across your skin where you pressed together.

You shushed him, ears perked as the footsteps drew closer.

There wasn’t much space in the cubby to begin with and paired with his broad frame, you were close enough his chest brushed against yours with each inhale. Wonwoo eyes widening when you leaned a little closer; pressed a little firmer, crowded him against the wall with nowhere to retreat once more. He was so warm and solid, completely unlike your element. Intoxicating. Even with someone right outside, you couldn’t resist the urge to touch him. Your hand slid down to his chest and rested on the waistband of his pants.

No one expected you anywhere; you could easily raise on your toes to kiss him and nobody would have a clue; just like you wanted to before being interrupted by reality. You could drown in him, completely swept away while people shuffled right past the tapestry none the wiser. Only swollen lips and ruffled clothing to give you away.

He must have thought the same, eyes darting towards your mouth before he leaned closer…

Only to tuck his face in the crook of your neck and trace the curve with the tip of his nose.

Your fingers curled in his shirt as his breath puffed against your skin, a flare of goosebumps raising with a shiver. The click of footsteps passed and disappeared, but you remained tangled together in the dark.

“Thank you for the books, by the way,” Wonwoo whispered.

“Did you have a chance to read some of it?”

“A few pages,” he sighed, hands flexed on the dip of your waist.

“Sorry Maoki ruined your copy.” Your own arms snaked around his shoulders, fingers toying with the hairs at the nape of his neck until Wonwoo shuddered. This close, you could feel the blood rushing in his veins, the throb of his pulse beating heavily. Like that night in the forest. “What did you think?”

“The Belle Dame seemed familiar…”

“How so?”

Before Wonwoo could answer, a new pair of footsteps echoed down the corridor.

“I swear, I thought she went this way,” a squeaky male voice said.

You jolted back, the space between you and Wonwoo growing as you listened intently to the conversation clearly not meant for your ears. His leg still pressed between your legs and your hands bunched in his shirt but whatever haze filled the space evaporated.

Another deeper voice responded, “And what are you planning to do when you find her? Demand a private audience? I doubt she even knows your name.”

“I’ll have you know we spent yesterday afternoon in the gardens together. We would have had a lovely time if it wasn’t for her guard dog getting in the way.”

Maoki.

“She’s absolutely vile,” a new voice chimed. They all stopped right in front of the curtain where you were tangled with your guard dog in an incredibly compromising position. “If she wasn’t in line for the crown then no one would put up with it!”

“Even with the crown, she’s not worth the trouble,” said the deeper voice.

“I don’t know…” said Maoki. “There’s some satisfaction in taming a woman as head strong as her.”

“If she doesn’t bite your head off first.”

“Women like her just need the right man.”

You didn’t need to be tamed by anyone, let alone someone like Maoki. You moved to reveal yourself and remind him of that fact but Wonwoo stopped you with his hand on your elbow, the heat of his palm warming through the delicate fabric of your dress, his thumb rubbing small circles.

“I’ve never met such a beautiful woman with such an ugly disposition.”

When they moved on, you stayed rooted in place, flushed with embarrassment. It would have been one thing to hear their opinions of you alone but in the company of someone else the insults made you flush. Did Wonwoo agree? Were you the vile woman people only put up with because of the glittering crown atop your head? Because it was his job? Was his only motivation the fact you held his life in your hand?

“Are you okay?” Wonwoo asked.

The security of the dark, a safe place where dangerous thoughts existed in excess, vanished. He was too close. To you, to the truth, to melting the careful mask of regal indifference crafted from years in the court. You weren’t able to keep it in place as firmly with Wonwoo around and it was terrifying being so close without the armor of a crown. You were practically naked in front of him, only able to hide because he couldn’t see the pinch of your mouth.

You swallowed the embarrassment like thick medicine, healing the parts of you softened and hardening them back as they were. “I’m fine. I’ve heard worse.”

Not wanting to look at him, you left the alcove and strode down the corridor back towards your apartment. You’d make up some excuse about needing your seamstress before the ball tonight or taking a nap to fill the afternoon, find something to read. Or maybe hide away in the bath until your fingers pruned. Whatever it took to avoid the pity in his eyes.

You didn’t need any excuse. The dress you originally planned to wear needed finishing alterations. Your seamstress Maya pinned and unpinned the hem of your gown dozens of times, hiding her exhaustion with your indecision under her breath. It was beautiful. The red fabric poured down your figure, clinging to every curve and the open back revealed just enough skin. No jewels or embroidery, just simple silk. Something felt missing but after the fifteenth attempt, you and Maya called a truce.

“A little bird told me you left your party early this afternoon,” Han said as she pinned a comb in your hair.

Sami dabbed perfume around your neck. “With Won—”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You watched in the mirror as they exchanged a look over your head, thankful the other servants had dismissed themselves for the night already.

Han grabbed a delicate gold necklace from the stand on the counter and clasped it around your neck. “You like him.”

“Of course I do.”

It felt horrible and freeing to admit it. You spent the entire tea party imagining if it was him sitting across from you and not the others. Just you two. Alone. Talking about books, and his friends in the city. Exchanging stories from childhood. You wanted to know exactly how he got the silver scar at his brow. Share the time you and Mingyu tried to scale the garden walls and ended up with matching scars of your own on the center of your palm.

You liked Wonwoo so much, maybe even felt even more than that; but your feelings didn’t matter. He was who he was and you were what you were.

Han plucked another pin from the velvet tray and pressed it into your hair. “Then what’s stopping you? You’re the princess. If you can’t be with whoever you love, then what hope is there for the rest of us.”

“I—“ you began to argue, eyes closing. The vein in your temple throbbed.

“If you really wanted to be with him, you’d go to your grandmother and tell her,” Sami said.

“What if he doesn’t want me?”

Han looked to Sami with disbelief. “She’s joking.”

“The tournament is the day after tomorrow.”

“I know,” you said, focusing on your hands in your lap.

“Are you sure you don’t—”

“I want to get this over with. In silence. If you don’t mind.”

They wrapped up their work as you asked and left with a gentle squeeze on your shoulders. With no more reasonable delays, you exited your room and found Wonwoo sitting on one of the couches reading a book in a crisp black uniform.

He looked up as you approached, wide eyes skirting over your body. The book tumbled out of his hand and onto the cushion as he rose to his feet.

“You look—” he started softly.

Not wanting to hear whatever he had to say, you cut him off. “Let’s go. I don’t want to be late.”

The ballroom was packed. You smiled at the crowd even though your heart squeezed, mind replaying over what Wonwoo was going to say over and over again but the crowd inside the ballroom swallowed you whole; an easy distraction. Men and women introduced and reintroduced themselves; like packs of wolves in glittering gowns and fine suits, teeth gleaming in the light of the chandeliers. In the chaos, you forced yourself to concentrate on the years of court manners ingrained in your bones. You were an untouchable island and you would survive tonight and the day after. And when the week was done, you’d be married and whatever Wonwoo planned to say would be forgotten.

Music and laughter bounced off the walls, the dance floor a sea of jewels and colorful silks as couples twirled around. From the ceiling acrobats tangled themselves in silk ropes, flipping and twisting, unraveling just to climb back up and start again. Actors stood on pedestals, skin painted and wearing masks to resemble different spirits; they froze in place as partiers circled them. Through the massive windows of the far wall, you watched hundreds of lanterns float into the sky from the gardens.

One of your favorite festivals and the usual cheer felt impenetrable. If you couldn’t enjoy it, then you’d distract yourself from feeling anything at all.

You danced with every man who asked, successfully avoiding the edge of the dance floor where he waited next to your grandmother. The music swelled and faded over and over until their faces blurred together as you were led straight into the next song. You knew Wonwoo was watching. He was always watching, but you avoided his gaze even though it prickled across your skin.

When the current dance ended, you curtsied to Kabaar who walked away with a disillusioned frown; most of the men you danced with did. What they anticipated, you didn’t know. You tried to smile and nod and flatter but insincerity rang clear.

The orchestra took a break, leaving you to hover awkwardly on the floor without a partner. Your feet were sore and your head hurt but there were few options to hide without the cover of music and dancing. A walk in the garden? Perfect place to be alone in the dark with Wonwoo. Sneak out the servant's entrance? Your grandmother would kill you. You could douse yourself in wine again but that left you back in your room with Wonwoo. The only option was to take your place on the dias next and rest your feet until another song started.

“How many more are left?”

“Just two,” Lin said. “Gyan and Char.”

A servant walked passed with a tray of wine and your fingers itched to tip the entire thing over, give yourself a reason to leave early. You snagged a glass and downed it quickly before grabbing another. Your eyes rolled. “Wonderful.”

Lin opened her mouth, no doubt to chastise you for the vulgar display but Gyan materialized as if summoned, offering his hand.

You turned, a smile plastered back in place. The wine already flushed through your veins. You finished your second cup before taking his hand and spinning back out to the floor.

The rosy glow from alcohol served little relief. Gyan jerked you around the floor, narrowly missing your feet with each step. “You are a lovely dancer, Your Highness. Like a deer.”

“Thank you,” you nodded, teeth clashing together as he pulled you roughly; completely ridiculous. In your tipsy haze, your self control slipped from its tight leash; on instinct, you looked at Wonwoo for the first time tonight. His eyes widened in shock before he schooled his features back to neutral. Then, when you didn’t rush to look away, he offered an awkward smile.

The first time you looked directly at him all night and it was just as dangerous as you knew it would be.

Luckily, the music changed for the last dance and someone else appeared out of the crowd to distract you.

“Your Highness,” Char announced with a deep bow. “Please honor me with a dance.”

“Of course.”

Char danced far better than Gyan. He whirled you around the dance floor with graceful expertise, none of the stomping of Gyan or loud chatter the other suitors maintained. The orchestra swelled to fill the silence lingering between you and Char as your mind wandered thousands of miles away.

You stumbled when Char broke the delicate silence. “Have you ever been in love, Your Highness?”

Over Char’s shoulder, you looked straight into a pair of brown eyes again. He seemed prepared this time. The room faded under Wonwoo’s gaze full of unspoken things, full of all the moments someone or something interrupted. A jolt rocketed down your spine. Did he like to dance? Did he know any of the court dances? His bending was graceful enough, he’d probably pick them up quick enough if you showed him. Would he hold you like Char now? Hands proper, high on your bare back just below your shoulder blades. Or would he keep you closer than necessary? Hold you close while spinning across the dance floor. And if he did, when you looked up and met his eyes, would he kiss you in front of everyone without a care in the world?

Char spun you away, breaking your staring contest. With your back to Wonwoo, you looked up at the man guiding you across the floor as he spoke again. They weren’t the rich brown you’d grown fond of. They were green and full of pity.

“With your blessing, I intend to compete in the tournament tomorrow and if I win I hope we could grow fond of each other. I think we both understand what it's like to be torn between our duty and our desires.”

“I—” you stuttered. “I would be honored, my lord.”

“I believe we must do the best for our nation, even if our hearts lie elsewhere.” he said, his voice soft, as though the words were almost for himself as much as for you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, voice quivering. Was it that obvious?

Char looked unconvinced. “Then I apologize for misreading the situation.”

The waltz continued.

Wonwoo stood at attention next to the raised dais where your grandmother sat, her ladies floating around with their maddening laughter as you spun across the dance floor gracefully. Maoki had squeezed himself into the first dance, stumbling about the dance floor, struggling to keep up with your strides. It would have been comical if Wonwoo wasn’t focused on finding a way to kill him.

If she wasn’t in line for the crown then no one would put up with it!

The crown on your head was the least alluring thing about you. If anything, it was the most frustrating part and the entire reason Wonwoo warred inside his mind at all times about his feelings.

There was so much more, so much you didn’t show the others but Wonwoo witnessed behind closed doors. You were funny, charming, stubborn, infuriating…

He couldn’t figure it out. One moment you were dragging him into dark corners, pressing yourself against him, trying to kiss him. And he wanted to do it. He would have if Maoki didn’t interrupt, spewing nonsense. But then the next you scurried away and ignored his existence.

It was exasperating. The worst part is he didn’t know if he wanted you to stop. He wanted you. He wanted you in the garden when your lips curled into a frown as you read. He wanted you in the training pavilion when you launched a torrent of water at his head and laughed. He wanted you when you threatened a noble with a smile on your face. He wanted all of it; you in all your forms. He wanted you all the time. But he couldn’t have any of it.

By the end of the week you’d have a husband and Wonwoo would be back in the barracks with nothing but memories to haunt him.

As every man but him took a turn guiding you across the floor, Wonwoo grew more restless. There were no knowing looks or silent jokes. There was nothing. You were completely absorbed in whatever they said, smiling and nodding along. But he saw the strain at the corner of your eyes, the muscles in your neck taunt and not from perfect posture.

And then, during Gyan’s turn, when he marched you around like the man had frogs in his pants, you looked at him and Wonwoo barely managed to catch himself from racing across the room and whisking you away to demand an explanation. He stayed rooted in place, watching as the music dissolved and the Queen announced her departure. You didn’t wait before leaving as well, striding out the open doors with Wonwoo struggling to follow.

Servants trailed with him but Wonwoo ignored them. He spent enough nights listening to the prolonged routine of their fussing, this was no different. He fell into line next to them, eyes glued to the dip of your spine visible from the open back of your dress. His fingers flexed at his sides, itching to reach out and feel the heat of your skin against his palms.

Through the door from the sitting room to your bedchamber, he watched from the corner of his eye as they removed your outer robes and jewels before ushering you into the bathroom out of sight. The few servants left prepared your bed before funneling out until Wonwoo was left in stifling solitude with the weight of his feelings.

He had no business being jealous and yet it squeezed his lungs until he couldn’t breathe. Seeing you bite your tongue pained him. Wonwoo wanted to hear whatever scathing comment bubbled on your tongue, sharing it like a secret only between the two of you. To see that careful wrangled control slip, unravel a shred of your facade to confirm you were still beneath it all.

Most all, he wanted to wash away that lingering sadness clouding your eyes.

He couldn’t bear the thought of you upset, willing to do anything to fix it.

He knew one way; a completely selfish, ludacris way to make you feel better. He paced his room like a caged lion as he turned the idea over and over; weighing the benefits and drawbacks. No matter how foolish it would be, the same point reared its head: you’d like it. It was stupid but before he could think more about it he was standing outside your door, hand raised to knock. Just as his knuckles met the hard wood, it shot open.

“Oh!” you gasped, jumping back in surprise. “I was gonna call a servant for tea. Did you need something?”

Water from your bath clung to your hair, dampening the fabric of your nightgown and making the white fabric sheer around your collarbone.

“No, I—” His tongue felt too big for his mouth. Like a little boy again gathering the courage to speak to his schoolyard crush, Wonwoo shuffled on his feet as you stared at him confused.

“You what?”

“Do you still have those servant clothes?”

There was a long pause before you nodded.

“Have you ever been to the festival in the city?”

You shook your head no. More beads dropped from your hair with the motion, sparking in the low candlelight as they fell before blotting your top. Wonwoo did not look.

You weren’t wearing bindings beneath your nightgown. It made perfect sense but Wonwoo never thought about it before. He tried hard not to now.

“Do you want to?” he asked.

Whatever consequences conjured in his mind about sneaking you out of the palace dissolved as a beaming smile took over your face. He couldn’t help but smile too.

“Really?”

“Yeah, but we have to hurry or we’ll miss it.”

You whipped around, beeling for the gigantic bed in the center of your room. Wonwoo instinctively followed. You pulled a pile from beneath the mattress before looking back at him.

“Turn around,” you commanded.

Wonwoo did as asked but even though he couldn’t see you undress, he heard everything. The woosh of your nightgown hitting the floor, the sound of you shimmying the pants up your legs. Two times you’d been completely naked only a few feet from him and it drove him mad. He forced his body to remember why he was doing this; even if he wanted to crowd you down into the mattress and show you all the ways he was better. More giving, more devoted. Wonwoo was going to give you something those lordlings and princes never could: a real taste of the city.

It was easier to navigate the tunnels now that Wonwoo knew where they led. Emerald Park laid deserted and with the celebration at the palace still raging on, the Noble District was still. Wonwoo thanked the spirits for his months of mundane patrols, easily avoiding the footpath of guards as you followed close behind. This late at night most windows were dark and the ones that weren’t, framed people still partying and drinking, completely unaware of anyone sneaking past their door.

It didn’t take long to reach Merchant’s Row where the streets were packed with more people than usual, most wearing colorful spirit masks and costumes for the occasion; giant paper puppets of spirits floated through the air, lanterns of all colors burning brightly as fireworks exploded overhead, the moon a bright backdrop to dazzling displays.

You fell into step next to Wonwoo, fingers tangled together to keep close. He tried not to think too much about it.

“Why are they wearing masks?” you asked.

“Tradition.”

Wonwoo snagged two half masks from a merchant stall, a dragon for himself and a parrot for you. Your eyes crinkled as he pulled it over your head. This close he could count every single eyelash. He had the sudden urge to kiss you. Not the wanting kisses he’d come to expect with you. He wanted to kiss you, hold your hand, and just… be. Was he imagining you leaning closer or was he? Your eyes dropped to his mouth and then—

Someone barreled into him before he figured it out.

“Spirits, I’m so sorry!” the man slurred. “Wait, Wonwoo?”

Wonwoo turned to find Soonyoung staring at him with glazed eyes and ruddy cheeks stark against a green unagi mask pushed up on his head. Clearly, the man had started partying early like every year. Wonwoo smelled the reek of fire whisky and there was smudged lipstick hugging his collar.

“I thought you were working at the palace?”

“Yeah, they, uhhh” Wonwoo panicked. “They gave me the night off.”

But Soonyoung didn’t care for his explanation, he was staring past Wonwoo and staring directly at you with wide eyes.

“Wait, you’re that girl from the warehouse,” he shook a hand in your direction, the bottle of firewhisky clutched in it spilling over. “I’m a huge fan.”

You looked unsure, passing a weary glance to Wonwoo and stepping closer. “Um, thank you?”

“No, thank you. I haven’t seen Wonwoo get his ass handed to him like that since we were kids.”

“Well,” you smirked. “It wasn’t that hard.”

“Do you work at the palace too?”

Wonwoo felt you go rigid. “Something like that.”

Soonyoung leaned conspiratorially towards Wonwoo, whispering loud enough even people across the street could hear through the clamor,“I like her. Here, have this.”

He forced the half-drank bottle into your hand. Wonwoo watched as you took a confident swing and immediately regretted it.

“This is disgusting!” you sputtered.

“The more you drink the better it tastes! Nice to meet you!” Soonyoung called before the crowd swept him away.

With his friend gone, you turned back to Wonwoo, face twisted in disgust. “People drink this?”

Wonwoo snatched the bottle and took a long swing, eyes set on yours. Your face glowed, sweat from every pore thanks to the heat of packed bodies; your lips still wet from the whiskey as your eyes trained on his tongue licking away a rogue drop at the corner of his mouth.

It was you who broke first this time.

Wading further down the street, you staunchly ignored Wonwoo and combed through the wares of vendors. Talismans and scrolls of all kinds promising a safe winter crowded most tables, others presented jewelry and pottery, spices and cakes. The buzz of whiskey numbs his brain but not his skin. Your hand is still tangled with his as you tug him along. Wonwoo realized he doesn’t really mind shopping, at least with you. You don’t buy anything but you ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ over everything like you couldn’t have it all if you really wanted it.

The apothecary’s stall proved to be trouble.

Colorful vials and jars lined the table like neat rows of soldiers in different colors, all with various contents; some ingredients and some finished products. Most were unrecognizable to Wonwoo but he knew the one in your hand well enough.

“That’s not for you,” Wonwoo said as he plucked the vial from your hand and placed it back down, ears burning.

You immediately picked it back up and cradled it to your chest with a furious scowl. “How do you know?”

“It’s an aphrodisiac,” he said harshly. “Planning on seducing someone?”

You don’t need to, he thought. The bottle of fire whiskey in his hand became a dead weight instantly. He took about swig to distract himself as you scrambled to put the vial back.

“For a couple such as yourselves, I’d recommend this one.” The merchant, an old woman with deep wrinkles and silver eyes, lifted a similar vial filled with an inky blue liquid. “Just the thing to help the seed take.”

“The seed?”

Wonwoo pulled you away before she answered. He couldn’t do anything about the images in his head, they were there whether he liked it or not. You, him, back in your bed; so much naked skin; planted between your legs for hours until you both gasped for air. Where he could learn what every hitch of breath or tiny whimper meant, play with you until you're nothing but a soaked mess for him to clean up with his tongue. And only when you begged him for it would Wonwoo give you his cock. Again and again until the inferno inside him ceased.

You wouldn’t beg, though. He knows you wouldn’t because he wouldn’t be able to drag it out long enough that you’d have to. He’d give you everything, cave before you even thought to ask.

“You don’t need to be such a brute,” you huffed and shrugged his hold off your arm.

“She’s trying to sell you fertility potions!”

“So! It’s not like I was planning to buy it!”

In Wonwoo’s head, he imagined the night much differently. Loose flashes of you laughing, gleefully enjoying the chaos of the holiday while he stood back and soaked the sound in. This was anything but that. He didn’t want to argue with you. He especially didn’t want to endure a hard on because of an argument with you; a fact he would never admit even under torture but there was something about the way the air crackled around you when you got fired up. But that hadn’t been the point of sneaking you out of the ivory palace walls.

He wanted a night where you weren’t a princess, and he wasn’t your guard; a night where you were just you, and the insurmountable mountain of reasons his fondness was dangerous didn’t threaten to drown him like a tsunami. Apparently the spirits didn’t agree.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’ll forgive you,” you sniffed. “If you show me where to get one of those things.”

Wonwoo followed your gaze to a group of kids stuffing their face with fried dough covered in powdered sugar. Luckily, he knew exactly where to get one but the velvet purple tent of a fortune teller lured you in.

You tugged at his sleeve, dragging him closer. “Come on, it’ll be fun!”

“She’s a hack,” Wonwoo snorted.

“What’d you say?” an older voice called through the opening. A woman came out of the darkness, hunched over with knobby fingers and thick dark hair with bolts of gray.

Wonwoo began to corral you away. “Nothing, ma’am. Have a good night.”

“Wait!” she croaked. Her face might have been aged but her silver eyes crackled with energy. “Madam Via sees the unseen, hears the unheard. Step inside and I can find the answers you seek. Or, perhaps, a glimpse of the future?”

Wonwoo shot a glance at your hopeful face before scrubbing a hand down his own and asking, “How much?”

“Three gold coins for her, five for you. I don’t like smart mouths.”

He kept his next remarks under his breath while handing over the coins.

“Come this way dear, I can tell you’re the more pleasant one.” Madam Via returned back inside the tent, leaving you and Wonwoo alone.

“Well, at least she has one thing right,” you snarked.

“I doubt she knows what happened in that greenhouse.”

You stuck your tongue out at him before disappearing behind the curtain.

Wonwoo didn’t like the idea of you going in alone. What if the fortune teller recognized you? As unlikely as it was, the idea made him uncomfortable. But he remembered that you were you and if anyone could handle themselves it was you. Your bite was far worse than your bark and Wonwoo trusted you to handle yourself should need arise.

It hadn’t stopped him from trying to eavesdrop.

But the thick purple walls of the tent trapped any noise from the inside. He rocked back and forth on his toes, the chatter of passersby filling the silence alongside the chimes of glass beads strung up around the tent. Having grown comfortable standing at your side at all times, to have you suddenly disappear felt like half of him was absent.

He counted the number of beads in the curtain covering the entrance, traced the golden embroidery of the tent walls until his eyes returned to their starting point. He finished off the bottle of fire whiskey and the weight on his shoulders lightened as his thoughts turned hazy.

You barrelled out of the tent with an impatient tuff before masking your features. Whatever Madam Via told you, you hadn’t liked it. Your mask was gone and Wonwoo pulled his off too, suddenly feeling silly.

“What did she tell you?”

“Don’t make unnecessary journeys. Oh, and to avoid Komodo Shrimp for the next few days.”

Wonwoo scrunched his nose. “Why?”

“Probably because they aren’t in season. I don’t know!” Your eyes rolled. “She said to send you in.”

Wonwoo shook his head. “I’m not going in there.”

“Awww, big scary Wonwoo afraid of a little old lady,” you teased.

He sighed, knowing there was no way to get out of it. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll stay right here.” He ducked inside.

“Welcome,” Madam Via greeted from her seat at a round table covered with a dark cloth, its surface cluttered with cards and brilliantly colored crystals he’d never seen before; a clear crystal ball sat in the center.

The smell of incense strangled the air, smoke curling towards the ceiling. Inside the tent, low candles illuminated the space in a warm glow, the walls covered in tapestries of different colors and images. It made him feel claustrophobic.

“Sit down, you’re letting all the cold air in.”

Wonwoo mumbled an apology and sat on a cushion across from her.

Madam Via produced a ceramic teapot and pushed it into his hands. “Warm this.”

He didn’t think to ask how she knew he was a firebender. The teapot was cool in his hands but Wonwoo slowly pushed heat into it until steam started curling from the spout. The old woman used the time to spoon dried leaves out of different containers into matching cups and set them in front of him.

“Now, pour the tea.”

“I thought I was here to get my fortune read, not for a tea ceremony,” he quipped.

“I like your girlfriend so I’ll let that one slide but next stupid question and I’ll put a curse on you.” She shook a knobby finger at him. “Now drink your tea.”

Wonwoo wanted to argue but thought better of it. The tea tasted earthy, notes of jasmine and rose bloomed on his taste buds. He finished it quickly, barely allowing it to linger on his tongue before swallowing the last mouthful.

Madam Via snatched the cup from his hands and examined the contents. “Well, isn’t that interesting.”

“What?” Wonwoo tried looking into the cup.

“Reading the leaves is an art. Look at the sides of the cup, what do you see?”

The leaves stuck in odd patterns around the rim and walls of the porcelain. The top formed a clear ring but the sides seemed like nothing more than tangled threads. At the bottom the sediment from the leaves resembled a deformed blob. None of it meant much to him.

“I see…a dirty tea cup.”

“What that girl sees in you,” the fortune teller mumbled under her breath. “Look, there. The leaves form a heart at the bottom.”

“That's a blob,” he said.

This time she swatted him with a fan.

“Fine! It’s a heart. What's the big deal?”

Madan Via swatted him again before explaining. “Hearts mean love and relationships. With the knots on the sides it could be conflict. A crossroads…maybe. A path split in two, but you are caught at the intersection, unable to move in either direction. Any recent trouble with your girlfriend?”

Wonwoo’s ears burned red and he mumbled, “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“You love her, she clearly loves you. I’m not sure it’s as complicated as you think.”

“I didn’t say anything about lov—“

“It radiates off you both like the stench of the western harbor. A blind man could see it.” Madam Via rolled her eyes like the idea exhausted her. “I won’t pretend to understand whatever reasons you have for not being with her but what I do understand is you don’t meet a woman like her every century.”

Wonwoo knew she was right but he didn't feel like giving her the satisfaction of agreeing.

“Now, see how some of the leaves form a circle at the rim? It indicates a happy union is on the horizon. So maybe if you had any sense you’d find a way to make things work.”

Yeah, right. Anger burned in his chest. This lady clearly prayed on the hopeless, selling promises of futures with no possibility of coming true. A happy union? In what world would he be allowed to marry you? He’d have better luck airbending than changing the way the world worked. Maybe if you both ran away and started over, became the couple that existed here in the Middle District away from expectations. But how long would that last? You’d never agree anyway; and he didn’t want you to. If he had you, it’d be nothing less than all of you. Crown included.

Wonwoo didn’t say anything.

“Anyway, the future’s a mess. You’ll figure it out, or you won’t. Kiss the pretty girl you love or don’t.” She shrugged. “Doesn’t matter to me.”

Wonwoo shook his head, shifting on the cushion. “Are we done here?”

Madam Via’s eyes rolled for the umpteenth time and took a sip of her own suddenly steaming tea. “She asked about you.”

That kept Wonwoo in place. “She did?”

“Of course she did.”

“Whatd she ask?”

“I’m not a charity,” she sniffed. “For two more gold I’ll tell you.”

Crazy old snit. Wonwoo rolled to his feet and ducked out of the tent without looking back.

Of course, you were gone. It really shouldn’t surprise him.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he seethed. He shouldn’t have been that angry; not after spotting you barely a few steps away watching the other festival goers dance but Madam Via’s words wove a cord of frustration deep inside him and it boiled into hot vexation. A muscle jumped in his jaw as he clenched it shut.

You took one look at his face and laughed. “Who ruffled your feathers?”

“You were supposed to wait outside the tent.”

“I’m maybe ten feet away. Is it that big of a deal?”

“What if you got lost? Do you know how to get home?”

“I’d figure it out.”

“Before or after getting in trouble with the guards? Again.” Wonwoo burst out, unable to contain himself.

To your credit, you didn’t stomp your foot like he knew you’d like to. Instead, you iced him out completely and focused back on the people skipping around the plaza to the rapid drumbeat.

Happy union my ass.

He hadn’t enjoyed watching from the sidelines as other men led you around the room earlier. He hated it. Especially when Gyan stomped you around the room like an idiot. He hated that he took so much notice of the fact you pointedly refused to look at him until that point, and then again when Char spun you around the dance floor. As much as he didn’t want to dance now, Wonwoo knew this might be the only chance he’d get.

“Do you… do you want to dance?”

“Are you going to yell at me again?”

Wonwoo shook his head and proceeded to forget everything but relief as you took his hand. The bad mood woven into his veins by the fortune teller fell away, flooded with content to replace it. He spun you around and around to the beat of the drums, time fading until it was just you two and the world outside blurred. This was what he wanted; to be the only two people in the world. Together.

The next dance involved lots of spins and lifts. As with most peasant dances, partners passed around before coming back and each time you turned away from him, Wonwoo’s heart zapped with something as you came back, beaming from ear to ear.

He decided he’d dance until his legs stopped working if that smile was a reward.

The music swelled, drums and claps increasing in tempo. On the next pass, Wonwoo snagged you around the waist and pulled you into his chest. Whether it was the fire whiskey or all the spinning that made him dizzy, Wonwoo didn’t know; but it didn’t matter when he bent down and kissed your cheek – a fleeting touch of lips against your skin. It wasn’t anything grand, but as soon as he pulled back, you both froze and his face flushed.

“I—” he faltered. There was no explanation strong enough for why he did it.

Then you rolled up on your toes and kissed him with unmistakable certainty, right there on the outskirts of the makeshift dance floor, not a care who saw. Your mouths fit together like puzzle pieces, your hands wrapped around his neck keeping him close like he’d consider pushing you away. Wonwoo pulled you closer to banish the thought. He didn’t want the heat of pressing you into a wall where no one could see. He wanted the comfort of kissing you out in the open, like any other man in love was allowed to.

Love.

A deafen clap of thunder roared from the sky forced you two apart. Wonwoo jerked back and blinked wildly, pulling you closer in confusion. Something wet hit his face and then again and again as the clouds opened and released thick curtains of rain that soaked you both to the bone in seconds.

Wonwoo grabbed your hand and pulled you through the streets, back towards the palace. The roads cleared thanks to the storm sending everyone inside for cover. He dodged around corners but no one paid attention to a pair of young people running home from a typhoon.

The Noble’s Quarter was dark and Wonwoo knew the guards on patrol would be waiting out the storm at the watch station, waiting for the change in shifts given the late hour. He barreled through the streets with you in tow. Lightning illuminated the streets through the thick sheets of rain but it was muscle memory that guided him back to the statue in the park. He pried open the inconspicuous opening and descended inside, waiting at the bottom for you to join.

One second he was watching you descend the ladder, next he was on his back, cushioning your fall.

“Wonwoo! Are you okay?”

He coughed from your elbow plowed into his stomach.. “What the hell—“

You scrambled up right, sitting on his stomach as your hands caressed his skin, looking for damage. “I’m so sorry! I saw a guard and—“

The rain had matted your hair down to your skull, clung to your lips. He swallowed. Rain rushed outside, a dull hum to match the ring in his ears. You drew water from his hair and he felt the sore spot at the back of his head warmed as you healed the worst of the damage. Wonwoo tried very hard to keep his hands on your waist and not slide them up, pull you down, and kiss you breathless. Your hands traveled down his neck, ghosted over his jaw and made him shiver.

There was a shout from above and you sat up straight, eyes wide.

“We need to get back.”

You both took off down the tunnels, feet pounding against the ground and breath panting loudly. Finally, the familiar passage outside your office rushed up. But you took a last minute turn to a new door Wonwoo had never seen before.

It led to your bedroom.

You waltzed ahead, shrugging off your tunic and stripping to your bindings without a care. Wonwoo had seen you in far less but it didn’t make the roar in his ears any less demanding despite the pain in his back demanding attention. You tossed your clothes back under your bed and turned to him, guiding him to sit while he tried to stare at anything other than the press of your breasts against the silk.

“Does this hurt?” you asked, fingers prodding the tender flesh of his back.

He’d certainly bruise come morning, some lingering soreness if he was lucky. Wonwoo couldn’t find much reason to care about it. Fatigue already blurred the corners of his vision. It’d been such a long night already. If his options were staying awake to find a healer down in the infirmary or going to bed and dealing with the consequences later, he’d trudge down to his room and see to it first thing in the morning. He’d tally it along with all the other wounds he found himself collecting in your presence. “I’m fine.”

“Let me help.”

In the end it was the softness in your eyes that made him acquiesce. In the dark, with the candles and lamps extinguished, the worries that kept him grounded floated away. The rain pounding against the windows lulled his heart. He always slept best when it rained. You disappeared into the bathroom and came back with a pitcher of water.

“Take your shirt off.”

Wonwoo spurted, suddenly completely awake. That was out of the question.

“I can’t heal you through your clothes,” you huffed.

He swallowed again, remembering the last time you healed him in the field. But this time would be different. He’d let you heal him, maybe kiss you again, and then he’d go to his room down the hall – alone – and pretend it was your hands touching him until he came and fell asleep.

He tugged the soaked shirt over head and closed his eyes.

If he was of sound mind, then the severity of the situation would have him rushing to flee. Alone with the princess, in her bed, with his shirt off and your own clothes crumbled on the floor painted a damning picture. But only the cool relief of the healing water dragged across his spine registered; knotted muscles relaxed, the sting of raw skin dulled and then disappeared under the gentle passes. His eyes closed before leaning forward to give you as much room as possible to continue the hypnotizing pattern.

“Better?”

You snickered at Wonwoo’s grunt of approval before continuing.

“You’re so tense.” Your palms dug into his shoulders with more force. No longer were they hovering over the skin, now the water provided a wet glide as you massaged the knotted muscles into submission.

A groan of relief clawed its way out before Wonwoo could swallow it back down. “I’m in charge of a princess that refuses to stay out of trouble.”

“She sounds awful.”

Wonwoo peered over his shoulder to find you focused on healing a cut on his upper arm, a pleased smile spread across your face as the skin knit together in a faint pink line. “She’s not so bad.”

His early arousal stirred just out of reach, stoked into an ember from the fan of your breath against the short hairs at the base of his skull. If he leaned back he would feel your breasts pressed against him, your lips in reach. He wanted to, he really really wanted to. He almost did when you pressed your mouth to his shoulder.

But you pulled away and the cold that rushed into the empty space brought the tiredness he’d ignored all night forward. He could feel the sun just below the horizon; dawn wouldn’t be far off, promising another full day as minder to your meetings and tea parties, listening to entitled nobles fawn over themselves.

Exhausted, Wonwoo slumped forward.

He’d move to the sitting room. All he needed was a minute to find the energy…

You woke shivering. Stripped down to nothing but your under bindings, you tugged the covers tighter, soaking in the pleasant warmth radiating across your back; pushing back into it for more. The sun barely peeked over the horizon, the corners of your room stained dark.

A warm breeze tickled across your shoulder. Odd. Perhaps you forgot to shut the window last night before bed.

It's then you registered a weight across your waist and a rhythmic press against your back in time with that comforting gust of hot, humid air. Consciousness flooded in with each grating moment; until you were awake enough to slap behind you, making contact with something fuzzy and hard.

A masculine grunt responded, accompanied by a tight squeeze of the arm across your waist, dragging you closer.

Wonwoo.

He nuzzled further into your neck with a sleepy sigh, shifting his leg until his knee pressed between your own.

You considered slapping him again; however, the weariness of last night is too much to overcome for another swing. The consequences of him spending a night in your bed seemed so small next to the relief of his body heat against the cold. Wasn’t his job to protect you? Your greatest threat since he came to the palace was only the lingering cold you felt when he wasn’t around.

You remembered what the fortune teller said last night.

“Oh dear, Temperance in reverse,” the woman tsk’ed. Her tent was thick with smoky incense, candles burning low to cast the room in shadow.

You eyed the upside down illustration. “What does it mean?”

“Imbalance, struggle, strife. Being pulled in a hundred different directions. There’s conflict between what you want and what you think you can have.”

You can say that again, you thought.

“Maybe something to do with the young man outside?” she continued with an inquisitive brow.

You refused to respond and pulled another card from the spread, laying it next to the first one. A couple wrapped in a warm embrace stared back at you.

“Well, there you have it.”

“Have what exactly?”

“The Lovers. You might be used to making decisions from the head, but you must embrace what your heart wants. A powerful relationship can make the conflict Temperance warns of clearer. Or maybe the relationship itself is causing you confusion.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“And why not? He’s easy enough on the eyes despite the attitude.”

“It's not…there’s nothing going on between us. He wouldn’t—and I can’t—“ you stammered.

“What does your heart want? Think about that and pick the next card.”

Your fingers brushed over the deck, itching to pinch one of the gilded edges and pull it out. You picked the bottom card and laid it down on the table.

“Oh, this is just too easy. The Two of Cups. Embrace your heart. Even if it seems impossible, maybe you’re making things overly complicated.”

It is impossible! you wanted to scream.

As if Madam Via heard your thoughts, her face softened a fraction. “Listen, life is too short not to take advantage of good things. You say it’s complicated? Maybe it is.”

“So what do I do?”

“You do what every person who has ever been in love does: enjoy it while you have it and worry about the future later.”

Worry about the future later…

Maybe the crazy old woman was right. For once in your life, you wanted to enjoy things for what they were in the moment. Like in the warehouse, or against the wall at the market, in the field, in the bath, in the alcove yesterday. Like last night when you danced with Wonwoo and no one cared, not a single soul paid you two attention and he kissed you so infuriatingly close to your mouth before acting like he hadn’t. And when you kissed him after because if he was going to kiss you he needed to do it right. You wanted simple and what you had right now was as simple as it got. Wonwoo asleep in your bed. Wonwoo’s arm tight around your waist. Wonwoo’s cock heavy against the curve of your ass.

There wasn’t anything more simple than stretching against the length of his body, pleased that the tantalizing firmness greeted you with a stretch of his own. Your thighs squeezed on instinct.

You’d seen plenty of men shirtless, through training or tutoring sessions with healers. But seeing men half dressed and feeling the defined muscles so intimately against your back were very different.

You rolled over to face him, buried your nose against the soft divot of his collarbone and breathed. Sleep tried to claim you again with the gentle rise and fall of his chest but Wonwoo didn’t let you. He was too tempting. Smooth warm skin, soft stomach your nails trace over mindlessly, his own slow breath ghosting against your forehead. You wanted to wrap yourself in him like a blanket and spend the day tucked away. Simple.

The hand around your waist tightened again as you brushed a kiss against his throat. You wanted to kiss him again like last night, when no one was around to offer reminders of how bad an idea it was. Somehow, you knew if you spoke the entire illusion would shatter. All those expectations would rush in; the reasons you shouldn’t want Wonwoo the infuriating way you did – can’t want him. So you didn’t speak. Instead, you feathered more teasing kisses across his shoulder, up his neck, and then a final one on his lips.

Take advantage of the good things. Like how Wonwoo’s hand skated up your back, the pleased groan in response to your nails digging into the crease of his hip bone.

He kissed back, slowly at first, dry chaste passes of his mouth across yours. The kind of kisses you could wake up to every morning without complaint; the inferno of previous encounters completely dormant. You didn’t think about anything else, only the easy way he rolled on top of you for the sake of kissing; tangled your fingers between his own and pressed you further into the mattress. The morning stubble on his chin scratched teasingly along your skin. Your hands acted on their own, cascading down his sides and across his back. The band of his pants brushed the tips of your fingers and you pushed beneath to find more intoxicating heat his body provides.

It was like that for a long time, returning the lazy kisses on your cheeks and chin, nose following the curve of your jaw. But then your legs spread to better accommodate his weight and he was there. The contact stoked you out of sleepy bliss, igniting desperate want. Your hips couldn’t help but curl up slowly, rocking against the length of him pressed right against your bindings.

A million reasons not to do it clouded the air but there was one good reason: you wanted to. And Wonwoo obviously wanted to. What you two did away from prying eyes was a secret you could live with if it meant you got to have at least some part of him.

Wonwoo rolled agonizingly slow between your legs. Each thrust of his sheathed cock pushed tiny mewls from your lips as his trailed further down your neck. He kissed everything he could; the sensitive skin beneath your jaw, the hollow of your throat, down to the seam of your bindings. All while his hands warmed your skin.

He tugged at the knot of your bindings until the silk strips slackened; tracing every newly bare strip of skin with his tongue as you arched and pushed more of your chest into his mouth.

“Please,” you sighed. You free hand knotted in his hair to give a deliberate tug. “Please.”

Each kiss across your chest and stomach only pushed you closer to the edge of insanity. You coaxed a hand between your legs for the smallest bit of relief, but Wonwoo was already there. He tugged at the small knot keeping the fabric secure until they loosened and then there was nothing between your bodies; you sprawled beneath him completely naked and exposed in the cold sunlight. He mouthed across your thighs, stubble leaving you raw for his tongue to sooth away.

This must be exactly what the maids giggled about over your head. It didn’t seem so funny now that you had it for yourself; the need for him urging you to claw out of your own skin.

You whined and squirmed under the first tender push of his fingers, parting you for his tongue that followed soon after. The sensation was wholly new and unlike anything you’d felt before. Nothing, not the things you’ve done to yourself or the memorable way Wonwoo fingered you the first time compared to the sweltering glide of his tongue.

“Wonu,” you gasped.

It must be the validation he needed because timid licks became heavy laps across your clit and sucked with enough force you jolted from the bed. Your hips rolled into the intoxicating friction. If you were frustrated before by the incomparable satisfaction of his fingers then this is a whole new level you’d never find again; completely addicting.

He flicked his tongue, fingers curved deep along your inner walls. You were so wet. So embarrassingly wet you’d blush about it if you had the brain power to even consider caring. Wonwoo made sure you didn’t, heady grunts of his own muffled in your core as his hips flexed down into the mattress.

You writhed for it, sweat beading along your skin as instinct took over and every twist of his tongue was met with a grind of your hips along it. Another drag of his mouth and your jaw clenched, legs kicking in an attempt to scramble away but Wonwoo pulled you to him — further down the sheets — and smothered himself between your legs; rewarding your dry moan with the stretch of another finger. Your eyes went fuzzy but you keep them open because he’s not wearing a shirt and the muscles roping along his spine are too mouth watering to look away.

Fingers itching for something to ground onto, your nails raked through his hair, over his bare shoulders until faint pink lines criss-crossed over pale skin. He moaned again, humped the bed in search for his own pleasure and you sat up on your elbows to watch.

It's all too much. The first wave drowned you. A squeeze along his fingers, and your hips rocketed off the bed; chasing the rough suck of his lips on your clit. You chanted his name, or something like it, until branded your tongue.

And then it was over. The comedown fizzled through your veins, muscles pliant as they twitched with aftershocks. You didn't — couldn’t — think of anything other than the dull throb and the terrible emptiness inside you as he removed his hand.

Wonwoo peppered more kisses along your stomach and thighs, slow and lingering as you caught your breath.

You pulled at his hair until his face was level enough to kiss, your tongue snaking along his lower lip until he opened his mouth, the taste of yourself evident but not undeterred. He kissed back eagerly as if suddenly you both were more awake.

Your hand curled into his pants and swallowed a hiss of pleasure as you stroked his cock. You wondered how he would taste, if there was enough time before your maids arrived to kneel between his legs and make him shake and beg like you had; if he’d take the time to teach you exactly how to make him come and let you practice again and again until you were both satisfied.

A prod at his chest with your free hand had him rolling over, lap the perfect seat for you to command him however you saw fit. You kept him locked in a kiss, panting and whining into it as two sets of hands forced his pants down his thighs. He sucked a nipple between his teeth, rougher than before, like he couldn’t get enough of anything. You weren’t any better; jerking him off, grinding against the flexed muscles of his thigh. Wonwoo’s hand cupped yours around his cock, squeezing your grip until it tightened like a vice and fucked himself through it; his stomach collapsed from a sharp gasp.

He was so close, a vision of messy black hair and flushed cheeks beneath you, chest glowing with sweat. An arch of your hips was all it’d take for him to be inside you, filling you, driving away that aching need he’d left since that first night you kissed him. You dove down and lapped at the tender dip of his neck to distract from the foolish idea.

Your name cracked from his lips, voice low and almost pleading. You were back beneath him in a flash; hands fisted in the sheets as he parted your legs and hooked them around his waist. His cock dug into the softness of your stomach before he moved lower, until the tip nudged your entrance, just breaching as you shifted up to search for more and then…

A sharp rapt at the door shattered the silence, followed by Han’s voice. “Your Highness!”

Wonwoo popped up over you, eyes wide in shock like he hadn’t realized exactly what you both were doing. You shoved him off and rolled from the bed.

“Put your clothes on!” you whispered, words like acid on your tongue. Truly, the last thing you wanted him to do was redress and face the day. You’d much prefer stripping the rest of him and spending the entire day in bed with Wonwoo between your thighs.

However, want as you might, having him in your room was threat enough to both of your reputations, nevermind that you spent the night with him; let him touch without a single protest in ways no one ever had. Almost let him have everything.

Lunging for your robe, you managed to cover enough to avoid suspicion of having Wonwoo in your room. Alone.

You answered the door with too much enthusiasm.

“Your Highness! Wonwoo is—in here?” Han peered over your shoulder to where Wonwoo stood by the window – thankfully – fully dressed. Only the mess of his hair gave inkling to what happened only moments prior, your core still tingled with after effects.

“Yes! Yes, he was helping me with a, um…”

“A bird,” Wonwoo nodded.

“Yes, I slept with the windows open last night to watch the fireworks and woke up to a bird…”

“A big bird!”

“Huge!” you exclaim. “And Wonwoo helped me…get the bird out.”

“Hopefully the poor thing is alright,” Han tutted, approaching the window to look for the imaginary bird she’d never find.

“It flew right out, perfectly fine,” he rushed to explain.

Han’s shoulders sagged an inch in relief. Apparently, that was enough for her to drop the entire issue of Wonwoo being in your room. “Would Your Majesty like for me to draw a bath? Such stress so early will not serve you well for your meetings.”

“That would be wonderful, Han.”

Wonwoo stood cemented in place as Han disappeared into the bathroom.

“Shouldn’t you…”

“Right, yeah,” he nodded before striding out the door.

The door to your suite clicked shut with Wonwoo’s departure. Immediately you collapsed into the bed once again, batting away the comforting warmth still lingering from entangled bodies. The pillow you landed face first in still smells like Wonwoo. Like the rain from last night, the powdery smoke that always lingered around him, and the cling of soap. Without thought, you inhaled until your lungs stretched uncomfortably.

So preoccupied, you didn’t hear the pitter patter of Han’s slippers until she stopped at the foot of the bed with a wicked gleam in her eye..

“It was huge, huh?”

“Shut up.”

Out in the seating room, Wonwoo forces his thoughts to the most unpleasant ones he can think of. Hoshi’s sweaty socks, the burn of a thousand fire push ups, freezing showers in the barracks…

He knew it was a bad idea. You had to know it was a bad idea too.

Mingyu lent against the fair wall outside Wonwoo’s room, shaking his head.

“A bird? Really?”

“Shut up,” Wonwoo growled.

“I don’t even need earthbending to tell you're a shit liar. You’re lucky I sent Han in there and not the more chatty servants.”

Wonwoo’s face burned. “I’m not lying.”

“Your shirt is on backwards.”

Wonwoo whipped his head down. His shirt was buttoned and proper but the fact he looked is incriminating enough.

“Whatever you two are not doing, I recommend really not doing it because she’s going to marry one of those princes and next time it might not be someone as gullible as Han who catches you.”

“We weren—”

“Those councilmen are looking for any reason to challenge the line of succession. If it looks like YN can’t control herself – like she let a man below her station compromise her – then her marriage prospects go down. Way down. As in not getting married.”

Mingyu was right. Sneaking you out last night was a risk. A risk he’d been willing to take at the time but a risk nonetheless. But what happened this morning was dangerous, to you, to him. If Han hadn’t interrupted, what would be happening right now? Would you be welcoming Wonwoo between your legs? He’d gotten carried away, forgotten the expectations you carried and why feeling you around him was a horrible idea. And if Han hadn’t knocked? If she stumbled in like a servant was meant to, then what?

Would she simply have turned a blind eye to her sovereign welcoming her guard between her legs like an eager lover?

“The Queen invited you for an audience this morning. Wash up and get dressed. You stink.”

“Did she say why?”

“Yeah, I ask her to explain every decision she makes.” Mingyu rolled his eyes. “Be ready in an hour. One of the maids will get you.”

“What about—”

“I’m on babysitting duty today.”

Mingyu left his room and Wonwoo contemplated drowning himself in the bath.

If the Queen knew what he’d been up to then she had endless ways to ruin his life. His mind wandered wild through the possibilities as he washed up. It seemed no matter how hard he scrubbed his face, your scent and taste clung to his senses; the sweet sound of your voice gasping his name, the wet heat of you on his cock.

Even the degenerate acts of the morning hadn’t outweighed the comfort of waking up with you in his arms, the gentle kisses across his chest that nearly convinced him he was still dreaming. Anything after that was beyond the realm of reality as far as he was concerned.

Whatever the Queen knew, or suspected, Wonwoo decided what he had with you was worth the risk. He enjoyed the time he was privileged enough to be granted, the short opportunity to love you and be your friend. Now he’d have to pay up. And if the cost was his life, so be it.

Wonwoo liked rules. The palace was full of them, some more exasperating than others but they kept him from losing his mind trying to figure out how to act.

Rule one: under no circumstances was it okay to touch the princess.

Rule two: do not speak unless spoken to.

Wonwoo at least had a chance to abide by the second one. Maybe it would earn him clemency for breaking the first one so recklessly.

“Captain Jeon, sit please.”

The Queen perched on a cushion in the center of the Azure Chamber. Candles and lanterns kept the space warm from the storm raging against the windows, fighting to break in. Even the deafening thunder is nothing compared to the crash of his pulse flooding his ears. There were no servants along the walls or bustling back from the table to serve the queen. She was utterly alone and Wonwoo remembered how you cornered Galin the same way.

Spirits help him.

Wonwoo sunk to the cushion across from her, stomach sinking deeper into the floor. He folded his hands in his lap, head bowed. It was easier to maintain bravado in the privacy of his room. In front of her, he felt like a scolded child waiting for judgment.

“Tea?”

He nodded mutely.

She gave a dry laugh. Through his eyelashes, Wonwoo saw her knobby hands spoon tea leaves into the porcelain cups as she talked. “You can speak, I won’t take your head for it.”

Not detecting a trap yet, Wonwoo answered. “Yes, Your Majesty. Tea would be great.”

Steam curled above the cups, a thin curtain between the two sides of the table. The queen seemed to appraise him and without realizing, Wonwoo unfurled his hunched shoulders and sat up straighter.

“What do you think of my granddaughter?”

This is it. A clear trap so she could banish him.

Wonwoo kept his eyes on the tea cup in his hands. “She will be a great queen, Your Majesty.”

“I have no doubt about that but what do you think about her? Not as queen but as a person.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“I’ve had dozens of men sit in front of me and wax poetically about my granddaughter and her virtues. She’s beautiful, she’s intelligent, she’s patient—”

Wonwoo snorted and immediately flushed with panic.

“You disagree?”

“I think…” He risked looking up at her and found her lips quirked in amusement. It gave him the confidence to speak freely. “If that’s all they can compliment then they haven’t been paying good enough attention.”

“Now why do you say that?”

“She's beautiful but she’s as stubborn as a camel elephant. She is intelligent but she’s aggravating.” He shook his head. “She doesn’t listen. Her patience only lasts until the tip of her nose.”

The queen stared at him, surprised by his honesty.

“What else do you notice about my granddaughter?”

“She’s smart, caring. People respect her. Maybe not the nobles but the staff do. Even in the,” he trailed off. The queen already knew about the nights out of the palace but he felt like those moments - when his friends sung your praises after the fight in the warehouse, when the fortune teller grew fond of you immediately - those were private.

“Even where, Captain Jeon?” She leveled him with an expectant look. “When you snuck her out of the palace and into the city?”

He could have denied it; spun some story about how he had no idea the princess snuck out right under his nose, no knowledge of the maze of secret passageways beneath the palace. Wonwoo sat up straighter and decided if he was going to go down, he’d do it with dignity. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

She returned the porcelain tea cup in her hand to the lacquered tray, peering at Wonwoo with a smirk. “At least you have honor. Tell me, how did the citizens react to their princess in disguise.”

“The people in the Middle Districts didn’t know her but they liked her. She earned their respect without them knowing who she was.” He didn’t admit he liked you the moment he laid eyes on you, before he knew your name, or how fierce of a competitor you were; he liked you more after. It felt like a lifetime ago.

“I heard she did quite the number on you in the warehouse as well.”

“I—” Wonwoo silenced himself by taking a too large gulp of very hot tea.

“Captain Jeon, do you think anything happens in the palace that I don’t know about? I believe you witnessed her meeting with Galin.”

“You knew he was stealing and did nothing?”

“Who do you suppose whispered in his ear to approach my granddaughter about a new investment? You’ve met the man. He’s not bright enough to tie his own pants let alone run a scheme. It is better to keep the arrogant ones on a shorter leash than the rest.”

“So you set her up?”

“My granddaughter is stubborn and refuses to take the easiest path. Some lessons must be learned the hard way. She needed to learn not to take their word at face value.”

“But why?”

“The royal court is like a poisonous garden, some of the most unassuming plants are the deadliest. She needed to be tested and I believe she would have failed if not for you.”

He sat speechless.

“Finicky thing, water. It isn’t unyielding like earth, but it’s stubborn in its own way. You can’t keep it where it doesn’t want to be. No matter how you try to contain it, it will find a way around any obstacle. Water can be patient, slowly cutting the path it wants over years and years. But it can also be unwilling and destructive.” She looked to the dark windows, lightning reflecting off the panes. “My granddaughter needed to learn when to act and when to lay in wait for the right moment. At this very moment the nobles are in a frenzy because Galin’s meeting with her. They don’t know what was discussed but they know his grandson no longer resides in the temples his family has learned firebending at for generations. They know his daughters have returned to his estate in the countryside. Her actions have rippled across the court.”

“You don’t approve?”

“Oh, quite the contrary. I think she did a wonderful job taking advantage of that old idiot. There are a few nobles that respect her already. The ones that don’t are close friends of Galin’s and are afraid of her.”

“Good.”

“And you love her.”

“Yes, but—“ Wonwoo choked. There was honesty and there was stupidity and he feared he crossed the narrow line. “I didn’t mean…”

“When I was her age, I loved a man who was considered below my station. A guard who I became friends with as a young woman in the palace. There were hundreds of reasons not to pursue him and I was too afraid to pursue what I really wanted. I was afraid the nobles would not respect or fear me if I chose love over my duty. It’s one of the greatest regrets of my life.”

“But the king?” Wonwoo trailed off. The queens face grew fond, as if remembering the late king.

“I learned to love my husband and we grew very fond of each other,” she admitted. “But I don’t want my granddaughter to grow fond of a man when she has the opportunity to avoid the mistakes I made and marry a man she loves.”

She was talking about him. You loved him. Or, at least, the Queen thought so. And she was on his side. The queen, the one person with the power to make things work, wanted him to be with you. It didn’t feel real.

For a moment Wonwoo thought you wouldn’t appreciate being left out of such an important conversation. If he wanted to be with you, marry you, then the first person he should’ve spoken with about it was you. He imagined the anger, the hopefully empty threats to refuse given he didn’t ask you if you even wanted to marry him. But he also realized it was a good thing he didn’t because if he knew you wanted him completely – entirely – and there wasn’t a way to give you that, he’d never live with the disappointment.

“Tell me what to do.”

The queen pressed her hands to the table. There was a loose family resemblance but it was obvious in the raise of her chin and the stubborn tilt of her brow “The tournament for her hand starts tomorrow. In all honesty, I find it barbaric but the nobles respect tradition even if it’s a formality.”

Wonwoo knew about the tournament vaguely. Eligible royalty would declare themselves interested by competing, the winner married you. But Wonwoo wasn’t royal. “I can’t compete. I don’t have a title. I don’t have anything.”

“Nowhere in the rules does it require competitors to be titled. I believe, in my most recent reading this morning, it said competitors only need to be in good standing with the crown. Since I am the crown and I like you, I’d say that’ll do the trick. Besides, you don’t need to prove you are as good as those brats. You need to be better and based on Aiko’s appraisal of you, I’m confident you’ll succeed.”

“I… I don’t know what to say.”

“Do you love my granddaughter?”

Wonwoo answered without hesitation. “Yes.”

“Enough to marry her? To commit your life not just to her but to the kingdom?”

Then, Wonwoo hesitated. He knew he loved you, that he wanted to be with you. But did he want to rule a country? Live his life on display for the world to see? With a silver crown balanced precariously on his head?

“It’s a lot to ask. And it won’t be easy. Many of the nobles will object, even ones who I’d consider friends. But I’m quite fond of change. And you might be what this kingdom needs.”

Was he ready to help rule a country? He didn’t have the education or the money the others had; didn’t possess the connections from generations of high society. What could Wonwoo offer you that no other man could? What could he give you beyond himself?

But he remembered those times you sought him out in a crowd. When you drowned in the weight of responsibilities, he managed to pull you back above the surface. When you rushed ahead, he pulled you back. And when you didn't let anyone see the true you - you trusted Wonwoo to see and understand.

The only thing Wonwoo could give you was a sanctuary to ease your burdens.

Maybe that was enough.

“I’ll do it.”

You hid in the farthest edges of the garden, where the bristle grew in thick unkempt patches and the hedges nearly reached the sky. The worst of the rain had given way to a steady hammering, clouds thick enough the moon couldn’t shine through. Your shoes were ruined; caked with mud. The saturated ground refused to swallow more water, puddles the size of swimming pools spanning from one side of your escape to the other. Wind whipped cheeks burned from each stinging drop of rain and the warm tears you couldn’t stop. It was dull knowledge at the back of your consciousness.

Your heart laid heaving at your feet, half of it left in your room with Wonwoo. The other half still sitting in your chest ached for him too. Neither part belonged to you and you don’t know when it happened; when Wonwoo stole your heart and left you missing him even when he was within arms reach.

Or maybe you gave it to him that first night you snuck down to the warehouses and watched match after match for hours, only paying attention when Wonwoo was at the center of it. Or in the market when he saved you and didn’t have to. In the forest when he treated you like an equal. Maybe you chipped a small part away for him each time and now there was nothing left; nothing except for the lonely void for him to fill in ways he never could.

But it didn’t matter. What you felt wasn’t important, whatever it was couldn’t come true. There wasn’t a magic wand to wave and fix everything that was broken. What could you do? What could you do when there was no way to be with the only person you ever wanted?

You wanted to find Wonwoo and demand an answer; shake him until all the pieces fell into place.

However, your grandmother swept him into a meeting and kept him all day. None of the servants would tell you where they were and even when you discovered their location the guards wouldn’t budge. You found yourself pacing like a caged tiger, back and forth in front of the doors; hours dragged on and no one emerged so the gardens offered a respite from the anxiety.

Dread filled its place.

You felt the rain all around. Everything it touched dully tickled at your senses. That’s why you weren’t surprised when Wonwoo finally approached after spending fifteen minutes watching you from the archway.

“You’ll catch your death out here.”

“How horrible,” you said. You kept your eyes glued to the pond at your feet, how the surface rippled wildly from the rain. “What do you want?”

Wonwoo appeared in front of you, kneeling in the mud at your feet, only an arms reach away and yet so much further. “I’m seeking an audience with Your Highness.”

“Didn’t you spend all day with my grandmother?” You didn’t even attempt to hide the hurt in your tone. The last day of your freedom and he spent it locked away from you.

“Unfortunately, she couldn’t answer my question.” He’s soaked to the bone, the crisp lines of his uniforms limp from the weight of water. You’re at home in a storm like these. Wonwoo looked woefully out of place.

You swallowed thickly. “And what is your dilemma?”

“I'm in love with the queen-to-be. And I'm inquiring if she loves me too.”

The tears came hot and fast; you tried to blink them back but it was useless. Your head tilted back slightly, inviting more rain to sting on your face; they mixed with the tears washing down your face.

“I…” Your voice cracked. Wonwoo leveled his gaze with your own, searching for something. The mist of the rain blurred the space between you. “Of course I do and try as I might, I can’t figure a way out of it.”

An eternity passed in silence. Wonwoo watched you, the pathetic sight of red rimmed eyes and soaked clothes. He didn’t shy away from the ugliness you felt. He leaned closer, his hand trembling slightly as he grabbed yours, as if testing the waters. You let him.

“What if I had a way?”

“Wonwoo…” you sighed and looked away. You couldn’t bear to look at the desperate longing in his eyes; or how it mirrored your own heart.

“Don’t say my name like that.” He moved closer, hands resting on your thighs. You felt everything through your dress. His hands are almost unbearably hot even in the cold rain.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re saying goodbye.”

The rain fell harder. Deafening. You exploded with it, solemn tears turning into angry ones. “Isn’t that what we’re doing? After tomorrow this ends.” You motioned towards your hands. “I won’t have you standing next to me if I can’t have all of you. I won’t. I won’t do it.”

You’d been lulled into a false sense of security the past week. Dealing with reality in the daylight and having him in the shadows and the quiet dark of the night. You fooled yourself to believe it was enough, at least for the time. But you had to marry and your husband – no matter how forgiving – would never tolerate your closeness with Wonwoo; you wouldn’t be in their shoes.

Wonwoo didn’t let you hide from him. He cupped your face, forced you to look at him but you shut your eyes and refused; pressed his forehead to yours so his breath ghosted over your lips with his next words. “If you could marry me, would you?”

You wanted to scream It doesn’t matter! It didn’t matter that you loved him. It didn’t matter if you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him. You couldn’t have him. The world worked in absolutes and this was one of them.

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s impossible. Why even—”

“I didn’t ask what was impossible. I asked if you’d marry me.”

You didn’t hesitate to finally open your eyes and meet his brown ones. “Yes.”

“Then trust me,” he asked softly. Begging.

“What exactly did my grandmother say to you?”

Wonwoo blanched, blinking as if he hadn’t expected you to ask.

“I—We have a plan. You’re not going to like it…”

“But?”

“She told me not to tell you.”

You exploded from the bench, crowding down on Wonwoo. “Are you serious? You expect me to blindly follow whatever plan you made with her and I don’t even get to know what it is”

“It has to be done a certain way.” Wonwoo stood and swept you into his arms. There was no one out here to see, no one stupid enough to catch an early death. Besides you two. “Just trust me. Please?”

You sank into him, savoring the comforting warmth he brought with him everywhere. You traced the hem of his collar with soft fingers. You did trust him. It wasn’t natural for you to put your faith in many people but time and time again Wonwoo showed you he was a good man. “Fine. But if this doesn’t work I’m going to drown you.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” he whispered into your hair. “Now will you come inside? It’s disgusting out here.”

Back in the seclusion of your apartment, you pinned Wonwoo to the couch, commanded his lap and sucked the rain from his lips. You lingered, sunk into the warmth of his hands tenderly tracing your back; the same comfort of a warm summer breeze softly brushing your skin even in the chill of damp clothes. You both lingered there. Tucked away from the rest of the palace, an unspoken promise lingering in the air. You kissed him until the aching in your chest dulled.

You didn’t know what the morning would bring but you trusted Wonwoo.

And that was enough.

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Behind Closed Doors:

Bojan Cvjetićanin x fem!reader

Chapter Three:

Masterlist

No murderer was knocking on innocent women's doors, unfortunately. Only a guilty Bojan. So, at least you got one thing correct?

"I'm trying!" You grunted as Jere's boot slipped from your grip, hitting the ground with a thud.

And you certainly felt innocent - a target even - in all this as you had to help with this mess.

The mess in question is an unconscious Jere.

After the worrying yet annoying texts from him, you found a puffed-out Bojan and a passed-out Jere outside your hotel room. Bojan was equally as tipsy as you were but insisted that you helped carry - or more like drag - Jere to bed. You both had decided on taking him to Bojan's hotel room, which he shared with Kris and Nace, hoping that way if he woke up sick or just very hungover, Kris would be there for him, instead of leaving him alone in his own hotel room. (poor Kris) And also because Jere didn't have his key on him. You only hoped it was misplaced back at the bar so he could retrieve it tomorrow but for now, you were struggling to carry him, and regretting ever leaving him on his own with Joker Out. God knows what happened.

"Well, try more!" Bojan grunted as all of Jere's body weight shifted to his hands, his legs staggering to keep himself steady.

"No shit Sherlock, THAT'S WHAT I'M DOING!" Your voice raised out of frustration as you glared at him while bending down to pick up Jere's legs again, accidentally revealing your cleavage in the dress you still had on from earlier, and grabbing onto his ankles. "My eyes are up here." You spoke flatly as you felt Bojan's eyes on you.

"I mean, it's not like I haven't seen it before," Bojan admitted nonchalantly as he smirked, provoking another glare out of you. You had been doing that a lot today.

You kept a firm grip on Jere's legs as you carefully carried him again and asked, "So, you remembered what happened then?"

"Hmm, I think you need to clarify." Sarcasm oozed off his tongue as he smirked again, making you groan, either because you were using all your strength to carry Jere or because you were fed up with Bojan. Probably both.

All Bojan could do was laugh at your reaction, "I remember us having some fun. Much more fun than well...what this is," He gestured to the passed-out Jere who was flopping about as you both hauled him.

Your eyebrows knitted together, "You say 'having some fun' as if implying we did...something..." You knew the pictures were well, suggestive, to say the least, but you knew for sure you never had sex with him...or either of them!

Bojan laughed, his eyes crinkling as a grin formed on his face as well as his dimples which were faint but still showed themselves to you, only making you want to stare at him for longer than you should. "No, we didn't. Only a little kiss...unless we did and we can't remember," He joked yet this didn't really amuse you. "I know for sure this guy is not gonna remember anything in the morning." He glanced down at Jere and chuckled to himself again, reminiscing on the partying they just enjoyed. A little too much, it seems.

"Good. I mean, I would want to remember that..." You awkwardly cleared your throat. Oh God, you were really talking about this. Changing the subject you asked, "What did you do to him anyway?!"

"Don't blame me! You are Finnish. Aren't you known for this?"

"I guess," you sighed, faintly laughing at your blacked-out best friend and his predicament.

Bojan didn't say anything other than muttering expletives under his breath as you worked up a sweat lugging Jere to the lifts. As soon as you reached them, both of you dropped him to the floor as you stood in front of the lifts. "Oops," While you caught your breath, you chuckled and eyed Jere on the floor but Bojan stayed silent. For a second you thought he was catching his breath like you were, but there was no sound of that. So, you wondered if what you had said about wanting to remember if you did it caught him off guard and made him uncomfortable and/or because the whole sauna situation had made him uneasy - even though he seemed to be making jokes about it just a moment ago and the day before.

However, the moment you looked up from the still passed-out Jere and onto a shocked Bojan, you observed him staring unexpectedly at the lifts. Your confused self continued to watch him for a second before your eyes finally followed his gaze, immediately scanning an OUT OF ORDER sign that was stuck on the doors of the lift, almost mocking you. Not to mention additional caution tape that was stuck around for safety, as if you needed to be rubbed in the face more at the fact you'd have to carry Jere upstairs.

Your expression was just as equally shocked as Bojan's, but at this point it increasingly became irritated. "Of course." Your voice exuded sarcasm before scoffing, shaking your head as you turned back to face Bojan, expecting him to have disappeared, having given up on this whole journey.

But that was far from what would come out of his stupid mouth next.

"Well, we have a mission to complete. You know what they say, seize the day!" Trying not to act absolutely annoyed at the broken lift he cheered his signature line, almost making you automatically roll your eyes. Yet deep inside you wanted to laugh.

Well, this was one way to completely sober up.

____________________

Having almost tripped and fallen down the stairs while hauling Jere you were thankful when you saw Bojan's hotel room in sight. You thought carrying him was hard, until you tried carrying him while walking up stairs...

"Finally!" Exhausted, you flopped on the floor outside the hotel room next to where you rested Jere on the floor. Your head pounded. You and Bojan had successfully made it to the hotel room. Now you just hoped Bojan had the key.

"The key..." his voice sounded uncertain.

You hoped Bojan had the key-

"Uhh-" Looking up at him from the floor, you hoped to see the key in his hand but you couldn't.

"I don't have the key."

A long and tense pause lingered in the stuffy air. You stared at him with an almost blank stare, needing a moment to figure out how you were going to react.

"You what?" You laughed in disbelief.

"I, uh, may have lost the key..."

You were going to react angrily. "YOU WHAT?!" After all that hard work carrying Jere across the hallway along the hotel carpet - which you regret laying on now as the scratchy carpet digger into your skin - and up those steep stairs to the next floor, since the lifts conveniently happened to not be working so you could take Jere to bed, he hadn't thought to care more about keeping the room key safe... "What do we do now?!" Standing up before him, you half asked yourself and the guilty culprit in front of you.

Bojan shifted uncomfortably, "Umm...it must have fallen out of my pocket as we were carrying him!"

"Ugh. Well, you have Jere's key right? We can just go back and put him in his room, it's fine. Not what the plan was but-"

"Nu-uh! Do you know the leading cause of death from being hungover is puking while lying down!"

"Wh-"

"HE'LL CHOKE AND I'LL GET THE BLAME."

"Damn, okay, but you got us into this mess! One hundred percent I'll blame you. So what do you suggest?!" Your hungover headache is creeping its way back, harder this time, as this situation escalates. Although part of you thinks it's not just the hangover causing it.

He scratched his head and avoided your glaring eye contact. "We trace our steps and go back-"

"ARE YOU SERIOUS--"

A noise from beside you pulled your attention from Bojan. You looked over and saw it was Nace who had slammed the door open. "Shut up already! You woke me up and I'm very hungover. And what are all these texts about-" his eyes landed on the wiped-out Jere on the floor. "Oh."

"Thank god you're awake, I lost our room key-"

"Yeah, no thanks to you," Nace grumpily interrupted.

"Please just take him," You sighed and began handing Jere's legs for him to hold, Bojan following your lead. Nace sighed and accepted his fate. It's not like he had a choice anyway, and he just really wanted to go back to sleep, which you could relate to.

After putting Jere to bed, with a glass of water next to him for when he wakes and with the help of Bojan making sure to position him lying on his side to avoid any vomit-choking death, the two of you were ushered out by Nace, who now portrayed a snide smirk plastered across his face. "You're lucky Jan isn't here. He'd have a field day with this," he stifled a laugh, not wanting to make any more noise and wake Kris up, who was still sleeping blissfully unaware of the chaos that just occurred. Nace shut the door in both of your faces, not even bothering to ask where Bojan would sleep, which would be your room. He'd probably find that out from the Queen of Gossip, Jan, in the morning.

Together, you released a sigh of relief and Bojan high-fived you which you grudgingly reciprocated, nonetheless still annoyed at the whole situation.

When you made it back to your own hotel room with Bojan, you sank down on the bed with another sigh. Noticing your tiredness, Bojan handed you some water and stroked your stray hair away from your face, which you weren't expecting him to do though you didn't push his hand away. "Thanks for helping," he spoke lowly, but lightly.

Once his fingertips finished pulling the last strand, tucking it behind your ear gently, your skin burned, yearning for more. But you knew it was wrong, right? That sauna situation embarrassed you and those pictures, even worse. And you still hadn't talked to Bojan about it. Not properly anyway.

You were supposed to be colleagues. But it seems a lot can happen behind closed doors.

Realising you hadn't replied to him you uttered, "It's fine,"

God, of all the things you could say, that was all that came out?

You should shout at him for letting Jere get that drunk - even though everyone knows no one can stop him. You should tell him how embarrassed you are about whatever happened in the sauna. The kiss...The photos...

"I know what you're thinking about," Bojan whispered, almost sing-song-like. As if this was a game. Whatever this was.

"Go on then,"

His eyes squinted as if he was trying to mind-read, and you wondered if he did somehow get more drunk being near a blacked-out Jere for too long because he was staring at you longer than needed, with that piercing glare.

Tauntingly, his eyes quickly lowered to your cleavage again and back up to your eyes. Oh, how you wish you could roll your eyes right now but you were stuck. Frozen. Yet still burning from his touch. You kicked yourself over how fast you seemed to swoon over the singer from Slovenia. That was all he should be to you.

"The kiss." he finally declared.

You took a deep breath, drinking him in, as he seemed closer than he was before. The strands of his fluffy hair fell perfectly on his forehead. Your fingers instantly brushed them away, just as he did yours. entangling with the rest of his dark blond hair. His eyes never left you. They couldn't.

"Is that why you've been ignoring me?"

"I haven't-"

He quirked an eyebrow at you, not believing you for one second.

You sighed again, softly this time. "Okay, maybe I have. So you do also remember taking those photos? Don't you think I'm some kind of slut?"

"What? No way. We were joking around."

"Oh, good. I'm glad they didn't get accidentally posted online or something. That wouldn't be good. Especially for our managers."

He chuckled, "No, it wouldn't,"

"Was this some sort of plan you two came up with?"

He hummed in question, eyebrows furrowing.

"The whole passed-out-Jere-I-need-somewhere-to-sleep fiasco."

"You said we should take him to mine,"

"Yeah because you screamed about how if he dies you'll get blamed, which is still what's gonna happen if he does. For now, Kris and Nace can deal with...that." Your mind wanders to the texts and for a second you imagine it all unravelling. God knows you've seen it happen before, being friends with Jere for so long.

"Did you want it to be? Did you want it so I planned to get in your bed," Bojan's voice was hot, you could suddenly feel it. He was moving closer and closer to you by the minute. And you didn't move away or tell him to do so. You didn't want to. "Because it seems like it. Not to mention" - he leans down, fingertips caressing your leg down to your heels - "your naughty trick."

Naughty, he says.

You blushed intensely, feeling goosebumps rise across your skin at his touch, and at remembering your caressing his leg with your heel. You didn't know what possessed you then in that moment but, boy, you did not regret it. Especially if it meant Bojan would be this close to you right now, making you feel light-headed in an excited way.

His fingertips glide back up, tingling. He leans in and you do too. Tingling now on your lips, just as the photo of him kissing your cheek made you feel. Just as he made you feel in the sauna. Just as he made you feel whenever he looked at you. Kissing never felt this good. A wave of almost relief washed over you. If he thought you were 'weird' or 'a slut' then he wouldn't be kissing you now, would he?

Seeing you were more comfortable, he spoke softly, yet with a hint of something else. Desire.

"Let me make it up to you.

45 notes View Post

mirimim

2 years ago

Taking care of you - Steve Murphy x Reader, Prompt - “Did you put this blanket here?” , I gave connie a wife so she’s not lonely since we’re stealing steve from her, now you may ask why didn’t just write her out and the answer is because i love her 😭 IDC IF ANYTHING IS OOC BECAUSE I JUST WANT TO HOLD HIM AND TELL HIM ITLL BE OKAY AND HES GONNA LET ME.

It was a typical group hangout, your friends, alcohol, some terrible movie you, steve and connie didn’t understand but would still laugh at. You were way too many drinks in because you all had a day off tomorrow. “Okay, we’re turning in for the night” Connie said standing and pulling Maeve up with her. “Really? You have to leave?” You said looking up at her with a pleading look. “Yes, i have a shift tomorrow, are you ready to go? or do you want one of the boys to take you home” She said picking up your hands. “I’ll stay, get home safe okay?” You said leaning up to hug her and Maeve. “We will, love you” and then she was gone.

Now with just you, javi and steve, which with javi practically passed out it was really only you and steve. “Do you want me to change this?” He said pointing to the movie you guys haven’t been watching. “I don’t know, whatever you want” You said leaning against him. “Are you tired?” He said smiling at you. “No, no, you can change it if you want” Your words slurred together. “Alright” He stood to change the movie and once he’d finally found one he turned it on and then turned back to you. Only to find you sleeping peacefully where he was just sat. He reached over to the loveseat and pulled the blanket off the back.

After laying it over you to make sure you didn’t get cold he sat there for a moment just looking at you. He bent down to make sure the blanket was properly tucked in and then he kissed your forehead and turned to walk back to his room. You woke up after hearing someone walk around in the kitchen. As you sat up a blanket pooled around your waist. Looking towards the kitchen you recognized steve standing there. He didn’t see you till he turned back around. “Oh i’m sorry, did i wake you?” He said walking towards you. “No you didn’t,” You lied not needing to add more to whatever is keeping him up. “What time is it?” You asked looking for the clock.

“It’s 3am, you should go back to sleep, or i can walk you to yours” He said sitting next to you. “Oh no, i’m fine here” You said giving him a tired smile. “Did you put this blanket on me?” You said moving closer to him. “Yeah, i didn’t want you to get cold” He said shyly. “Thank you” You said wrapping your arms around him. “It’s no problem” He said leaning into you. “Why are you up?” You said pulling away slightly. “I had a nightmare” He said quietly. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” You said pulling him back into you. “I didn’t want to wake you” He mumbled into your neck. “Steve, you can always wake me up” You said burying your face in his neck.

“Do you want to go back to sleep? You can sleep in my bed, i’ll take the couch” He said pulling away. “Don’t be ridiculous steve, i’m not gonna make you sleep on the couch in your own home” You said laying back into the couch. “You’re not sleeping on the couch” Steve said pulling you up. “Well you’re not either. We can just share the bed, We’ve had to before” You smiled remembering the time you had to stay in a single at the hotel. “Are you sure?” He said following you down the hall. “Positive” You said pulling him down onto the bed with you.

Once you were both laying in the bed, you were both settled in very uncomfortable positions trying not to touch. After five minutes of not being able to sleep you gave up. “Steve?” You said turning towards him. “Yeah?” He said as he turned towards you. “Will you hold me” You asked moving toward him. He didn’t say anything just pulled you into his arms. A much more comfortable position. “Goodnight” You whispered against his chest. You assumed he was already asleep because he didn’t answer, but he was awake. He waited till you fell asleep to say it back. “Goodnight, I love you” He whispered against your head before drifting off.

82 notes View Post

mirimim

2 years ago